#mike is like “ a year and a half ago you lied to me ”

[gayofthefae]

We don't envision season 5 right when we talk because what is that actually gonna be like? This isn't a romcom. Mike finds out about the painting but Will is like throwing up blood and slugs in the corner.

edit: to clarify I wasn't saying "no time for romance" I was saying "it's horror show with raises stakes and angst. Mike will have to figure out how to bring up this truth bomb he discovered when more important things are clearly going on and there aren't the most conversational opportunities". I mean MORE juice, not less.

#stranger things #byler predictions #byler #stranger things speculations #like genuinely he will find out and be STALLED #because there are more important matters #like how do you be mad at your friend who's actively dying #(and also you're in love with) #we know there's a lot of complicated feelings about the painting but imagine getting hit with all those WITHIN the circumstance of whatever #horror shit #i think they will tie the two together like how season 2 created space for the emotions of the shed scene by intertwining them but #it IS more complicated to find out a big truth bomb about someone who is PREOCCUPIED to say the least #mike is like “ a year and a half ago you lied to me ” #and will is like “and 30 seconds ago i was crawling around on the ceiling catch up wheeler” #like you can't just interrupt with that personal life stuff #the writers can fit it i know that

[freetobeeyouandme]

Like Real People Do

Tags: Rated T, No Archive Warnings Apply, Bylerween 2023, Will Byers/Mike Wheeler, Came Back Wrong, Self-Harm, Body Horror

Words: 4.1k

Summary:

“There, all done,” Mike says as he secures the dressing. He gives it a quick tug to make sure he’s done his job right, then places the rest of the first aid kit back into the box. “Thanks,” Will says. It sounds warm enough. “Always,” Mike replies. Will tries to give him a smile and almost succeeds. Mike tries to reply in kind. He thinks he almost succeeds, too. - Or, Bylerween Day 5: Came Back Wrong

read on Ao3 or below; see whole collection

A/N:

I didn't think I would get this one done in time, but look at me. All Bylerween one shots being posted on their respective dates, hell yeah! Hope you enjoy! CW: Self-Harm, Body Horror

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Mike carefully closes the door behind him, not wanting to startle the figure sitting in the half dark. Mrs. Byers hadn’t wanted to let him in at first, had lied about Will not feeling well, but Mike knows better. He’s not sure how, it’s just the same gut feeling that had told him Will was still alive in the Upside Down. Premonition is probably not a bad word for it. And his premonition told him that there was something else wrong with Will that had little to do with him not feeling well and needing rest, still.

If Will needed rest, Mike could have brought over some books to read to him. Or they could have put on a movie. They’d been trying to plan a Star Wars re-watch for a while now, and this would have been the perfect opportunity.

But that’s not what Mrs. Byers tried to keep him from. It’s the small rigid figure sitting on Will’s bed, so still he might as well be a statue. The only sign of life is the way his head ducks down between his shoulders as he hears the door close, as if the soft click of the door will be followed by blows. Mike hadn’t seen Will that afraid of his own four walls since his father finally left four years ago.

The head continues to duck, eyes fixating on the floor, refusing to acknowledge the visitor, as Mike rounds the bed on soft feet. He stops before Will, gesturing even though Will won’t see. “Can I sit?”

Will’s eyes flit up to meet his, just briefly, just long enough for Mike to see the dark flecking the green pupils. Just long enough for the feeling of wrong to punch Mike in the stomach.

Will doesn’t give him an answer. He only shrugs.

Normally Mike would insists on Will deciding, but today he knows he won’t get that. So he sits, not too close, making sure he won’t accidentally jostle his best friend. He says nothing else, waiting for Will to relax again. Because Mike is not his enemy.

But Will’s shoulders do not leave their guard by his head and his eyes never turn to meet Mike’s.

So Mike clears his throat. “Your mom didn’t want to let me in at first. She said you weren’t feeling well, but I- You were okay yesterday, and I just knew that it was because of something else, wasn’t it? Your mom looked like she wasn’t feeling well.”

Will, impossibly, only shrinks further.

There is no way to really talk about this. Will has always been quiet about the things that make him different from their classmates, shying away where Dustin would yell about his cleidocranial dysplasia, so he’s not going to go about telling Mike what is going on. This is that time Mike had to go looking for Will at recess because he’d hidden in the darkest corner he could find so no one would see him cry because Troy had told him his father had told him that Will’s father had told him that his son would grow up to be nothing more than a hippy faggot, just the way his mother was raising him. Back then Mike hadn’t known how to deal with any of it, just a little mad that for some reason it meant Will would refuse to hold hands with him for the rest of the day.

But Mike’s not a little kid anymore. Mike knows about the existence of the Upside Down and had heard Mrs. Byers and Chief Hopper talk about how Will’s heart hadn’t been beating when they first found him. Resuscitation, that is another big adult word that Mike not only knows about now but that shapes his reality. Will had to be resuscitated, and his premonition tells him that this has something to do with Will’s current, empty state.

“Show me?” Mike asks, not sure what he is asking for but needing to know nonetheless.

For a second Will is still, and Mike grows scared that he didn’t hear him. But then, carefully, Will shifts, turning his arm so Mike can see the inner side of it.

His forearm is as pale and thin as it has always been, maybe a little whiter than Mike remembers, but it’s November and Will just almost died. Pale is not the issue. The t-shirt might be, the room feels cold to him despite the heat running audibly, but Will doesn’t seem bothered by the temperature. It’s not goosebumps he slowly reveals to Mike, but a deep gash, running the length of his forearm. This must be Mike’s mother’s worst nightmare, the horrible vision that she conjures in her head whenever she cautions Mike to move carefully when handling anything sharp – knives, scissors, broken glass.

What his mother pictures, Mike thinks, is a wound so deep she cannot stop the bleeding, is her son with his arm covered in blood, dripping on the floor, the life of him slowly sinking into the carpet. But that does not hold true for Will’s arm. There is no blood, dried or seeping wetly, even though the gash must be deep enough to draw it. The cut looks wide enough, the loose, already darkening, already blackening, flaps of skin hanging off it like the sloughing dead skin of a corpse are big enough that they should be revealing veins. It’s an ER type of injury, he thinks. It’s the type of thing you expect to see in a Cronenberg movie, not real life.

Except Cronenberg would not cheapen on the blood like this.

And Mike suddenly understands why Mrs. Byers had looked so pale and so shifty when she opened the door. He understands why she hadn’t wanted to let him see Will.

Will, who despite the cut on his arm just sits on his bed, breathing calmly and not bleeding out.

Mike carefully takes the arm, needing to take a closer look and scared that Will is going to withdraw it any second so that Mike will remember this only as a fancy of his imagination: There is a dark, alternate plane out there, so of course he now imagines his friend might cut himself without the injury bleeding. That’s the kind of stuff he’d expect from that other world.

Will is cold to the touch, but doesn’t pull away. He barely reacts, almost as if he doesn’t even really feel Mike’s touch.

“Is that-” Mike starts. “Are you-?”

And finally Will speaks. “I’ve been so cold and I didn’t know- I felt like I didn’t feel things. Not the way I’m supposed to, so I- I just wanted to check. It wasn’t supposed to be this deep.”

Mike swallows and carefully puts his thumb into the dark skin on Will’s arm. It moves, not yet dry and dead, not even drying, just loose. His own skin itches as he tries to wrap his mind around it. But Will doesn’t react. Will barely looks at what Mike is doing.

“And you don’t?” Mike asks, understanding the implication but needing to hear Will say it anyway.

“No,” Will whispers in the same scared, weak voice he had used to confide in Mike about his father.

Mike stares at the gash for a moment, unsure how to proceed. He wants to comfort Will, to reassure him that the feeling will come back, that maybe this is just a side effect of the Upside Down. There had been spores there, he’d seen the gate that the demogorgon came through. And they’d learned from Mr. Clarke that different fungi had different properties. A lot of them could poison you, even though a lot of them also weren’t deadly poisons. Maybe Will just inhaled enough to numb his nerves and that was why he didn’t feel anything. He’d just need time, his body needed rest to purge the last of the poison.

Except he knows that’s not true and he doesn’t want to lie to Will.

Will had died, in the Upisde Down. And now there was no blood welling from the cut, maybe no blood in his entire system.

Mike’s not sure that there is a way to fix any of this.

“Mom freaked out,” Will continues. “She refuses to look at me.”

“She just doesn’t know what to do,” Mike says. This, at least, comes easy. “She thought she’d lost you, but now you’re back but it’s not the same and she’s…overwhelmed.”

“She’s scared of me.”

And Mike won’t deny that. He’s not sure it’s not untrue. “I think it’s hard not to be scared about this entire situation.”

“I’m not,” Will says. “I should be, but I also don’t- It doesn’t feel right. I don’t feel right.”

He withdraws his arm, and Mike lets him go. He’s unable to stop him and unable to stop this whole thing. Will’s condition, the Upside Down, everything. Truth be told, he’s scared too. Not as much as he had been when the Demogorgon stepped out of the wall, but the twisting in his stomach and the goosebumps forming on his skin at just the slightest peek at Will’s mangled arm are definitely fear.

“That’s okay,” Mike says to reassure them both. “Is it just fear, or-”

“I’m not hungry anymore. Mom said it was because I didn’t eat anything for a week, that my stomach just has to get used to the idea of food again. I don’t taste it though. I eat to make her happy but-” Will shrugs. “I’m not really tired either. I haven’t slept since I came back. I pretend and the doctors didn’t find anything wrong, but I just don’t anymore. I don’t need it. And there are other things: I don’t feel angry, or sad, really. I know I upset mom, and I should feel bad about that, but I just- I don’t know how to.”

Mike nods along, but his head gets stuck on since I came back. Because Will means from the Upside Down, but really it also meant from the dead. Will had died and death had seemingly not let him go right. It should be impossible, but so was the Upside Down. Perhaps that was how things worked there.

“Has she told the doctors about this?” Mike asks.

Will shakes his head. He looks at Mike with hope – except he wouldn’t be really feeling that, either. It’s just a reflex, Will looking at him with hope because Mike usually was the one who had an answer or at least tried to find one. The taut feeling in his stomach turns into something infinitely sadder.

Mike looks back down at Will’s mangled arm, then at his face. “They probably won’t know what to do about that either. I mean they fired everyone from the lab and now it’s what-?”

“Mom said they’re getting someone else to come in to keep an eye on the gate and for us to turn to if there is anything but- they’re having trouble finding someone, I think. She said it would be a while yet but that they were trying their best.”

Mike nods. “Well screw the lab. It’s their fault in the first place.”

Will laughs, or at least lets out a shocked gasp that sounds like one. Perhaps more out of surprise than genuine amusement. But Mike will take it.

He takes Will’s hand in his and gets to his feet, pulling Will off the bed with him. “I have an idea, come on.”

Will follows, looking a little less forlorn and lost. Although Mike doesn’t think he’ll quite lose that look for a long time, yet.

They’re barely out the door that Mike realizes he’s not quite sure where he needs to go, so he pulls Will along the hallway, trying to find his mother. Will, realizing that’s the direction they’re going in, digs his heels in.

Mike squeezes his hand. Let’s him go. “Wait here.”

After letting Mike in, Mrs. Byers had been milling about the front of the house, and he thinks he would have heard her if she’d gone into her room, but both the living room and the kitchen are deserted. He briefly heads to the back door, checking the also empty yard, and then heads to the porch.

Mike had always liked Will’s mother the most out of all their parents, mostly because she let them watch whatever they wanted to under her supervision and she would really watch whatever with them, as long as they didn’t act too scared. She also made the best chocolate chip cookies and made the coolest costumes for their Dn campaigns, and whenever she asked them about what they were doing she seemed genuinely interested. In many regards she was the total opposite of Mike’s parents, and even while Will’s asshole of a father was still in the picture, Mike had begun to find himself envying Will his parents.

So it makes him sad to see Mrs. Byers as shaky and tired as she is. She had looked like that already while Will was gone, although then, at least, her tiredness had stemmed from her inability to rest while her son was still out there. Now Will was back, but she still made herself sick with worry. Worse, her anxiety seemed to have been wholly correct.

Mike hates that for her, and for the rest of them.

He watches her take a drag from the cigarette she’s holding in her hand, keep the smoke in for a moment and then exhale in a long sigh. She tips cigarette into the ashtray sitting on the railing next to where she’s standing. And still she doesn’t turn, having apparently not heard the door open.

Mike clears his throat. “Excuse me, Mrs. Byers?”

Will’s mother jumps, then turns, giving him a sad, apologetic smile. “Oh. Mike.”

“I was just wondering where the first aid kit is?”

“It’s, uh,” she scratches at her eyebrow. “Kitchen. By the sink. Hold on, I can-”

He shakes his head, stopping her before she can stub out her cigarette. “I can find it. Under the sink?”

“No, the drawer next to it. To the right.” She sighs.

Mike gives her what he hopes is an encouraging smile and a thumbs up. As he closes the door again, he hears her laugh softly.

At least something.

Will has stepped out of the hallway, keeping to the wall, ready to disappear should his mother come in, but also curious to see where Mike had gone. Mike waves him over when he spots him. “Your mom’s outside, smoking.”

Will nods and hurries to Mike’s side. He takes a seat at the dining table while Mike goes to find the first aid kit. It’s buried under take out menus in the drawer left of the sink, not right like Mrs. Byers had said, but it’s at least well stocked with everything Mike needs.

He takes the seat next to Will, putting the kit between them. Will stops briefly fidgeting with the sleeve of his t-shirt to look at it.

“I don’t think it really needs…” he says, trailing off.

Mike sighs. “No, me neither. I’m not sure- I mean there’s a possibility it won’t heal. Since it didn’t bleed, either.”

Will nods as if he’s had a similar thought.

“But we can still treat it like a regular wound, and a bandage would at least cover it up. That’s good, right?”

Will eyes the clean, empty gash on his arm, bites his lip, and then hands his arm over to Mike.

The last time Mike had to bandage a wound had been when Holly scraped her knee because she somehow had taken a tumble in the driveway under Mike and Nancy’s watch. Nancy had instructed him then, holding their squirming, crying sister while Mike patched her up. He tries to recall the steps now: First antiseptic, even though he’s not sure there’s anything in the wound that can get infected. Better safe than sorry. Then staunch the bleeding and bandage it. There is no bleeding, so he really just presses the dressing to the wound and wraps it tight.

Will doesn’t even flinch as the antiseptic fills the cut, nor does he look away from the wound. Mike supposes he doesn’t feel the same disquieting at it that Mike does. Will had always been the bravest of them when it came to injuries, although Mike thinks that’s mostly just pretending to be less fazed than he actually is. He’d cried a lot when he’d broken his arm a few years back, the pain much stronger than his iron will.

Now he doesn’t pretend, though. It’s apathetic interest that keeps him watching Mike’s fingers as they wrap the bandage around his mangled skin.

“There, all done,” Mike says as he secures the dressing. He gives it a quick tug to make sure he’s done his job right, then places the rest of the first aid kit back into the box.

“Thanks,” Will says. It sounds warm enough.

“Always,” Mike replies.

Will tries to give him a smile and almost succeeds. Mike tries to reply in kind. He thinks he almost succeeds, too. Then he tears his gaze away from Will, not quite sure what to do next. He’s bandaged up Will’s injury, but how will they make sure it heals? How can they even figure out what’s wrong with Will in the first place?

“It’s so stupid,” Will says conversationally. Almost as if he’s thinking out loud. “For the first time I’m not scared of anything anymore and it’s not even useful because I just- I don’t feel anything else either. Like I just-”

He breaks off and shakes his head, all the while looking at Mike.

And Mike can’t help himself: “Scared of what?”

Will gives him a sad smile but says nothing.

“Maybe we could try that?” Mike says. “Find something that really scares you and then see if we can’t make you feel something? I mean, maybe it’s not gone completely, maybe it’s just…numbed. Or something. Like with shock.”

“That’s not going to work. I know, because I should feel-” Will shakes his head again. “Not being scared should terrify me but it doesn’t. I know it’s wrong but that just registers as a fact, not- not as anything.”

Mike purses his lips. “Maybe that’s just because that’s abstract. I still think we should try. We could take you to the pool, get you to jump off the high tower. Or swing you really high on a swing set, or-”

“Can it be whatever?” Will asks. There is a sad kind of hope in his eyes that tells Mike he doesn’t really believe in what he’s saying but it’s not like he can do anything else about it either. “I don’t want to go out.”

“Sure. What were you thinking? Renting a scary movie? Turning the lights down and being-”

Will moves quietly and without warning and Mike is suddenly back in the cafeteria a few weeks ago, left alone by his sister to go hunt a monster and knowing that if the monster decides to come get them there would be no way for them to protect themselves. Except that that night feels like a fever dream now. Mike’s still not sure it really happened. All evidence – El, the holes in the wall of the high school, the monster itself – has vanished.

But this is real. Will’s lips are firm on his, cold but not hard. Will’s breath as he pulls away again is hot, even as it smells dirty, somehow, reminding Mike of freshly overturned earth. The cemetery had smelled like this on the day of Will’s funeral.

Will’s hands find Mike’s shoulders, holding onto him both as if to steady himself and to keep Mike from running away. But Mike doesn’t want to run away. Rather-

He leans in, putting his lips to Will’s again. His hands find their way to Will’s face, holding him in turn. He keeps his mouth pressed to Will’s, as if somehow this way he can transfer his own heart, jackrabbiting in his chest, to Will. As if he can let Will feel just a fraction of the fear he feels at doing this thing he knows is forbidden and the joy at doing it anyway, because he finds he enjoys it. Let Will feel just how much he means to Mike.

Will kisses him back softly, and for a second Mike can pretend that it works. That this is what they both want, and even though he’s not sure what this is exactly. Love, perhaps. The big, adult one with the capital L.

But it can’t last.

His hand, moving to find some place else to hold Will, finds his bandaged arm, and the memory of what lays below has Mike pulling back. And Will doesn’t chase after him.

Will doesn’t look sad at the end of this, either. He doesn’t look scared, or excited or like anything. His face is just blank.

His hand lifts to trace Mike’s cheek, thumb brushing against the corner of his mouth. But even as he says it, his face is empty: “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Mike tells him reflexively. This, at least is still the same: Will so used to apologizing still says sorry even though he doesn’t feel the regret that would prompt the words. Every movement, perhaps the mere act of breathing, is just instinctual, a routine formed in long years of feeling something.

So what does that say about his kissing Mike?

If all of Will’s wants and needs are simply leftovers from the before time-

No, Mike doesn’t want to think that. He doesn’t want to think that they could have done this before. That they could have done this while they both felt the same, both felt something.

And now all they have is this.

“I should have warned you, at least. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” Will insists. “I know it’s a bad thing.”

And that it might be – according to their bullies and Mike’s parents. But there are enough people who disagree, Mike knows that. “I kissed you back. There is nothing you have to apologize for.”

Will catches the implication, but he only averts his gaze, shrinking in on himself again. Not out of shame but only instinct.

Mike reaches out to the arm that’s still laying on the table, holding it in place before Will can withdraw fully. Even though Will doesn’t feel the same way anymore, even though Will likely barely feels his touch at all, he can’t help but crave the comfort, the contact.

Will still doesn’t meet Mike’s eyes, staring only at the hand on his arm. “Then I do actually have one thing to apologize for,” he says.

Before Mike can reply to that, diminishing the pain of his heart breaking in his chest before Will can apologize for that, the front door opens. Will stiffens but doesn’t pull his arm away from Mike’s hand. He doesn’t jump up, running to hide before his mother makes her way into the kitchen.

Mrs. Byers stops halfway across the room when she spots the two of them at the table. Her expression is apprehensive, but when Mike meets her eyes she is quick to cover it up with a smile. Carefully she approaches the table, putting down the ashtray and inspecting the first aid kit.

“I bandaged Will’s arm,” Mike informs her. “Maybe it will heal, but even if it doesn’t, it looks better like that. For now.”

Mrs. Byers nods absently, fingers playing with the remaining bandages. Then she shakes herself out of whatever reverie she was in. Hugging her son from behind, she kisses the top of his head.

Will closes his eyes at the gesture, relaxing into her arms.

“We’ll figure this out,” his mother promises him, so quietly Mike barely even hears.

Mike slips his hand into Will’s, squeezing. “Exactly. We got this.”

Mrs. Byers, gently running her hand through her son’s hair, mouths Thank you at him. Mike smiles encouragingly at them both.

Will smiles back, perhaps not happy because he cannot feel that, but at least not as glum as he had been earlier. And Mike’s not sure they’ll actually manage to heal him – he’s not sure there is a way to fix this at all with how unfamiliar and strange the Upside Down is – but at least for now it’s better. At least for now Will is with them again.

They can figure everything else out later.

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written for @bylerween2023

#bylerween2023 #day 5 #Came Back Wrong #byler #mike wheeler #will byers #cw Self Harm #cw body horror #my fic

[peeta-is-useless]

Always the Winner

“maybe maybe maybe it's an overdone idea but idc it's my favorite. reader not knowing anything abt dungeons and dragons but wanting to learn to get closer to eddie and his friends except they just kinda treat it like monopoly and just absolutely think they are winning and doing so well (they're not) but eddie lies straight through his teeth and makes up rules just to make sure reader wins. (idk how dnd works can u even win 😭😭)” - from Anon

Eddie Munson x Gender Neutral reader

Synopsis: You’re playing dnd with the boys and Eddie always lets you “win”. Warnings: lack of dnd knowledge(by me. I did some research but I’m sorry if it doesn’t make sense🥲), Eddie breaking dnd rules, I think that’s all?

“Alright, you’re up.” Eddie said to you, ignoring Mike’s eye roll.

You smiled and stood up, ready to roll the dice. You really were having fun and somehow always ended up with the killing blows. All the boys always shot slightly annoyed glances in your direction but of course the other questers would because you always won. Or that’s the theory that you believed anyways.

You tossed the dice across the table and Eddie leaned over to see the number it landed on before you had a chance to check.

“Too bad for the hill giant-“ he grinned and there were groans around the table. No one ever protested though. They knew what Eddie was doing. He was completely crushing on you and even if you didn’t exactly understand the rules of DND or how it worked, he would always let your character come out alright or as the hero. Sure, on the campaigns that you weren’t there for, all bets were off. However, when you were participating, he wasn’t afraid to tweak a few of the rules or just completely lie for you. It was a ploy for him to spend more time with you really.

“Yes!” You pumped your fist and finished out your turn. Little to your knowledge, the number you had gotten was not even close to 4, the required roll to actually defeat the monster.

There were half hearted “good jobs” echoed around the table until Eddie raised an eyebrow. Then more legitimate congratulations came at you.

Eddie continued with the campaign story. “Your little group has not taken damage because the valiant,” he said your character’s name with a flourish, “bravely defeated the hill giant, Nefel. Will you advance through his cave or go in search of another way to cross the mountain?”

The game went on for some time, your character still being the only one still at the height of health. “Alright, we’ll stop here for today, little hellfires.” Eddie proclaimed, scooping up his binder. “We resume tomorrow at 3:20. Don’t be late.” He glanced at you as the others started picking up their own items. “Sooo, what do ya think?” He asked.

You lifted you head from the character sheet Eddie had helped you start a week ago. “About the game or the campaign?”

“Either. Both I guess.”

“We’ll, okay. I really like them both. I didn’t think I’d catch on this quick but DND is so much easier than everyone says!”

Eddie tried to hide his automatic smirk behind his binder by putting it in front of the lower half of his face. “Yes, right. I suppose you’re just a natural, kiddo.” The use of kiddo really wasn’t valid because you were in the same grade as him and only a year or two younger.

“Maybe I just have a good teacher.” And with that comment, your cheeks start to burn. It was only a little but you could feel it.

Actually you didn’t have a good teacher at all. In fact, he was quite terrible in terms of actually letting you play out the game correctly and quite frankly, falling into traps, loosing health, etc, just like the rest of the party. That didn’t stop him from basking in your compliment. “I have been known to-“

“Oh my god.” Dustin cut him off, completely over Eddie’s beginning attempt at flirting for the night. “We get it. You’re both amazing. Now will you shut up? They’re driving us home!”

You laughed at Dustin’s outburst. “Sorry, Ed, he’s right. See you tomorrow. 3:20 sharp.”

“Yeah, okay.” He was glaring at Dustin as you turned to zip your backpack but the kid only shrugged.

Tomorrow.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #stranger things #dnd #I’m so sorry I tried:’) #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x gender neutral reader

[maddy-ferguson]

controversial take apparently for the byler tag, but it sounds like people dont want mike and will to have another fight because they subconsciously know it will once again portray mike as an asshole so they're vouching for a 'tame' byler narrative as if the whole painting lie doesn't depend on it being revealed and it contributing to a fight between them both as it's been foreshadowed. like idk but this is our narrative since s3.

and it's crazy because mike would literally have a right to be upset like he was made to confess to a girl he didn't want to confess to!!! will always has reasons to get mad at mike (no shade) but this time he's actually given mike a very good reason to be mad and it's like you said do i think the painting is gonna be the catalyst for them getting together yes do i think it's gonna be the catalyst for them fighting again yes! when has their relationship ever evolved with no fighting. they'll fight they'll make up it's fine.

about the mike needs to be seen as nice thing: yes i agree and i think it also applies to el not reacting negatively or just having no reaction at all to her own breakup with mike and to finding out that he's gay because people often envision it as a breakup/coming out scene. i understand that people don't want el feeling bad and resenting mike and will forever because then everyone in the audience would hate byler and it would also be nonsensical for them to not be on good terms by the end of the show but the exact opposite is maybe just as unsatisfactory to me. they want el to be mike's ex-girlfriend best friend mother sister and therapist and to tell him it's okay to be gay when she's...his 14-year-old ex-girlfriend whose perception of the world was built around their relationship. why would you expect her to be coach him through their breakup when she's the character who's the worst at regulating her own emotions? how is she gonna help him? how is it fair to expect that of her? as much as people like to go on and on about mike abhorring lies, he's not the one whose whole thing is friends don't lie, that's el. now obviously she lied to him in s4 the season of all lies but i just don't see her being the bigger person and not having feelings about her own boyfriend having lied to her about loving her no matter how checked out of the relationship you think she might be. she's 14! she's half of the relationship! expecting her to tell him it's okay to be gay is so strange when she doesn't even know why he would've had to hide it. she was crying about him not loving her less than a week ago!

#there's an unlikely reference in this because i can't help it #ask

[darrylfromdotgonwattpad]

Ghost x Fem!reader pt 1

reader is female and will be using she/her pronouns.

Reader has two huskies named Bolt and Sky that are trained to do as reader says and be her bodyguards.

Reader hides her face behind a gas mask that covers the bottom half of her face.

hc: ghost really loves dogs.

Warnings: none

Walking into the meeting room with Bolt and Sky in tow, Y/n sat down in her assigned seat.

sighing, Price spoke up, “How many times have I told you to keep the dogs outside. I don’t want them to shit in my meeting room.”

“And how many times do I have to remind you, these dogs won’t shit under a roof.”

“Lies, I swear I stepped in dog shite this morning in the halls.”, Soap butted in after hearing their conversation, only just walking into the room.

“Shut up, Johnny, don’t make me have Sky bite off your testicles. He will.”, Y/n threatened, petting Sky’s soft ears while glaring at Soap.

Terrified of the two giant dogs, Soap moved further away from Y/n.

Just then, the doors opened and in came Ghost and everyone else.

Taking his seat next to Y/n Ghost put his hand on Bolts head and rubbed him, Sky getting jealous and nudging Ghost’s forearm with his snout, making a whining noise.

petting both dogs silently, Y/n watched as the big man treated the dogs with such care and delicacy.

Ghost was about to pull his attention away from the dogs, but was pulled back when both the dogs rested their heads on his thigh, staring up at the man with puppy eyes.

A silent sound of adoration left Simon as he kept petting the two dogs, only angering Price.

After listening to the plan for their next mission, everyone was excused.

Standing up, Ghost was immediately attacked by Bolt and Sky, the two dogs wanting him to pet them more.

Hearing your whistle, both dogs got of the 6’3 man and was at your side in a matter of seconds.

“Seems like you’re their new favourite person.”, Y/n said, walking up to the man.

Y/n’s 5’10 frame was small compared to the man in front of her, both her dogs at each leg, ready for any command.

“You have nice dogs, very well trained it seems as well.”, he muttered halfheartedly while still petting the two dogs.

Seeing the split in Bolts right ear, Ghost questioned Y/n about it.

“What happened here?”

“Oh? That was from a few years ago, another dog had gotten into a scrap with Bolt and had bit his ear, splitting it in half - he basically hit Mike Tyson-d.”

“Oh..”

“He’s fine now though, it doesn’t hurt him to touch it anymore.”, Y/n said, directing Ghost’s hand to run through Bolt’a fur.

“He love’s attention, and so does Sky.”, Y/n said, petting the blue-eyed dog that sat patiently next to her.

“They’re beautiful..”

“You like dogs?”, Y/n asked, petting Bolt as Ghost patted Sky’s head in a soothing manner.

“I love ‘em.”

“Good.”, Y/n said smiling, going back to a comfortable silence, just petting the dogs.

dogs in question, these are my aunts dogs. The one with the brown eyes is Bolt and the one with the blue eyes is Sky!❤️

#ghost fanfiction #dogs are the best #dogs #huskies

[jellyfishloveletterghosts]

Puzzle Pieces

Puzzle Pieces

Will and Billy are sitting in a booth at the diner sharing a plate of sticky cinnamon buns and each with their own cup of coco warming their hands. Everyone else is outside, the party having a snowball fight but Billy and Will had gone inside immediately, neither one of them liking the cold anymore.

 “Boys.” Will says with a fond expression, eyes on Mike and Dustin wrestling in the snow, Lucas and Max watching and laughing at them. El is off to the side already bored with their snowball fight instead making snow angels, something Will showed her how to do during the first winter snow this year.

 "Yes." Billy agrees smiling just as fond eyes trained on the front door as Steve comes running in, shaking snow from himself as he strips his coat. He is wearing a dark green sweater and Billy can see the dark edge of a tee shirt peeking out, there is a small bleach spot on the collar and Billy knows it is the Metallica shirt he left on Steve’s floor a few days ago.

 Steve spots them, giving a wide smile as he waves. He shares a few short words with a nearby waitress before heading toward them. Steve is almost at their booth when Billy slides deeper into it, the vinyl seat creaking as Will shoots him a questioning look, they had both initially sat at the furthest edge to escape the cold of the window their booth rests up against. 

Steve stops at the end of the table and smiles before asking "Want me to sit on the inside?" Billy flushes and nods, the cold of the corner already too much for him, Will can see his hand tremble where it slides across the table. Billy gives a sigh of relief as he moves back out shoulder brushing Steve’s as he slides into the booth stuffing his coat against the window before he settles.

 "So what are you two in here talking about?" Steve asks shooting Will a smile and it is kind and normal but Will still flushes a prickle of worried embarrassment because they had been talking about something Will does not talk about with anyone other than Billy. Not that they really delve into the topic. Will just knows Billy likes them too, that it is okay to mention it to him that he thinks it is swell that Will likes them too.

 Will opens his mouth to spit out a lie, whatever wants to come spilling out no predetermined fib at the ready but Billy beats him to it with the truth. "Boys." Will gapes caught off guard and that worry panic rises at Billy admitting that to someone else.

 Steve turns and smiles at Billy, they are so close they are nearly touching and he leans in that little bit closer and bumps their shoulders together. "Yeah? I'm your favorite right?" Steve asks, looking at Billy all soft and gooey like Will catches Hopper and his mom looking at each other when they think people are not looking. The worry panic fades leaving behind burning curiosity.

 Billy turns his head grinning at Steve keeping their shoulders touching as he leans an elbow on the table like Steve is the center of his universe producing gravity only Billy can feel. His tongue flicks over his lips and teeth before he says "Course ain't I yours." More a statement than a question.

 Steve tilts his head down, eyes on Billy’s hand where he has got it circled around his mug of coco twisting it back and forth about half a centimeter. If possible his smile softens even more as he reaches a hand forward almost touching Billy’s before he pulls it back to the edge and looks up at Billy through his lashes. "You're my only."

 Billy’s cheeks go pink and he shakes his head with a little high laugh as he brushes it off. "I mean in general."

 They are quiet for a long few minutes, Steve staring at Billy waiting for his eyes to come back. Will is hyper focused on them, everyone else in the diner even the rowdy family behind them fades crackling into nothing as he waits to see what happens next.

 Steve flicks his tongue out wetting his lips when Billy’s eyes finally come back to him. "I mean for the rest of my days."

 Billy tenses, breath coming a little faster, eyes narrowing just a touch as he asks. "Girls?"

 "Are always going to be lovely but you Billy Hargrove are always going to be my favorite and if I have any say my only." Steve declares and Will squirms at the quietness of his voice, the soft intimacy in the loud diner.

 "Shut up." Billy says just as softly with a sniffle and a deepening blush, his eyes shining just a touch. Steve bumps their shoulders, hand dropping under the table.  A few seconds later Billy drops his own hand down and Will is pretty sure they are holding hands as he whispers. "I suppose being each other's onlies wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

 It is not worded like some fancy proposal or grand admittence of love like in the romantic comedies his mom sometimes enjoys but Will understands the declaration in his bones, knows it for what it is. "Oh" he says, staring at them like he is only just now really seeing them for the first time, mind going over all the little signs he missed before that point to this, to them. How could he have missed any of them, they are so obvious now that he knows what he is seeing.

 Billy tears his eyes away from Steve to shoot Will a smile and wink "Yeah kid."

 Steve frowns looking between them, head cocking as he asks "Did I miss something?"

 "Baby B is just putting the puzzle pieces together."

 "Oh are we doing a puzzle?" Steve looks down at the table honestly looking for one and Will chews his lip in an effort not to laugh when Steve finds nothing looking crestfallen.

 "Metaphorical, I'll explain it to you later." Billy reassures and Steve’s face whips back to smiling fondly.

 "Over pizza?" Steve asks, hopeful and happy.

 "And a puzzle." Billy says with a small snorting laugh.

 "Yes I love puzzles." Steve says excitedly with a little fist pump and Billy’s eyes are warm and happy, something achingly sweet in them, something Will has never seen in him before.

 "Yeah I love puzzles too." Even without the way Billy drops his voice giving inflection and the soft look he is giving Steve again, Will still know Billy is not talking about puzzles. 

#harringrove #jellyghostfic #Billy Hargrove x Steve Harrington #fanfiction #st fic #Will Byers

[superhero--imagines]

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here!

A/N: If I had to give this part a title, I would title it “(Y/N) and their human friends” Also I lied. This part was too long so it might be another part (or two) before we get to the Bella Arc.

* “You know you would be pretty good looking without the glasses.” Lauren says twirling a strand of hair and ignoring the algebra worksheet in front of her.

* Yeah that’s kind of the whole point

* “Contacts kind of freak me out.”

* You’re expecting a snarky response but instead she nods.

* “It’s the whole sticking your finger in your eye thing right, I totally get that.” She’s watching you with such inquisitive eyes, it almost you uncomfortable.

* It’s been a few months since you started school, you’re almost at thanksgiving break. So far you feel like you’ve assimilated well, and you have a good balance between school and caring for your animals, but it’s situations like this that totally throw you off.

* “Hey (Y/N/N), what did you get for number 5?” Jessica asks, you’re thankful for the distraction.

* “I got X = 8” Jessica confirms she got that too, and moves onto the next one

* You three are in the worlds most unlikely group. You didn’t even know Lauren was in this class you usually just pair up with Jessica.

* “Hey, me and a some people from the volleyball team are going to Port Angeles, you should come with, we could give you a makeover.”

*You wonder what the other angle here is

* It didn’t take long for you to realise that somehow, even with the ugly-duckling routine, the Cullen’s were at the top of the social hierarchy.

* Part of their popularity was probably because they didn’t really seem to interact with anyone outside of their own social circle. Which just made them all the more desirable.

* “I don’t know Lauren, I would have to ask Esme if it’s okay.” Though you can already bet Rosalie isn’t going to like this.

* “Oh cool, just let me know!” Lauren smiles, it turns out the act of considering her invitation was enough to placate her.

* For once you’re actually glad Edward’s waiting for you outside of your class when the bell rings.

* “Edward read that girls mind.”

* “It’s always straight to business isn’t it. No, ‘hi Edward how’s it going?’ Or ‘How was your class, how has your morning been treating you?’ It wouldn’t hurt you to make some small talk” You give him a look, and he returns it with an expectant expression. You sigh.

* “Hi, Edward how was your class?” You plaster on a smile, and he returns with a smile of his own.

* “It was fine. A little repetitive, we’re reading “to kill a mocking bird” in English.” You nod, offering a consoling pat on the shoulder

* “That sounds super boring,” the books great and all, but you’re guessing he’s already read it like 30 times by now. “Hey Edward,”

* “Yes (Y/N),” He nods, hiding his grin behind his hand.

* “Would you mind doing me a favor?”

* “Of course, anything for you.” He grins openly now.

* “Would you mind telling me what that girl Lauren Mallory is thinking so I can know why she invited me,” and not Jessica her good friend. “to hang out?”

* Edward loses his smile.

* “The varsity members on the volleyball team suggested it, they think it’s a shame they couldn’t have got you on the team since you just moved here.”

* Unexpected but not the worst. You’ve really been half assing it in PE so you’re surprised they even want you.

* “Lauren-she thinks you could be-“ a lopsided smirk twitches onto his face. “in her words- ‘two super good looking best friends’ “

*oh. So she just wants a pretty b*tch squad?

* “Maybe I’ll go with them then” you were scared they were going to force you to show them the Cullen’s house and introduce you to everyone, or leave you stranded in port A as some kind of prank or something.

* Edward stops you

*“you can’t be serious” he has his eyebrows scrunched together

* “Why not?” Nothing more natural to fitting in then hanging out with your classmates. Unless- “if you’re worried about any accidents don’t, I know they all look healthy but they eat a lot of carbs. Way too starchy for my palette.”

* “It’s not that-“ he gets that brooding-existence is suffering look. “You shouldn’t trust humans too much, they’ll let you down.”

* Well what’s that supposed to mean, but before you can ask he’s already walking to his class.

* Well whatever, at least Emmett will tell you a good joke to take your mind off of Mr. Eternal Damnations ominous words.

* Too bad when you get inside he’s not here, instead Mike Newton perks up when you walk into the room.

* “Hey Eleazar, how’s it going?” You still have a hard time adjusting to use Eleazar’s name as your own. Apparently they came from a time when last names were only for nobles, so he offered you his first name instead.

* “Hey Newton, any plans for this weekend?” You take Edward’s advice and start with small talk. Mike Newton smiles, you guess he’s kinda cute, all soft cheeks and baby blue eyes

* “No I’m completely free!” Weird how he’s so enthusiastic about being alone, he must be one of those “relish time alone” types. Good for him.

* “Everyone needs some time alone sometimes.” He deflates, oh man you guess that’s the wrong thing to say.

* He looks like he wants to say something to you, but then Emmett sits beside you.

* “Can I have a swig from your water bottle?” You hand it over

* “Making out with Rosalie make you thirsty?” Emmett cracks a grin

* “It’s that whole bookworm-soccer mom get up, it gets to me yknow?” That’s actually pretty funny

* “So what she’s the Velma to your Freddy?” When the reference doesn’t sink in you rephrase “the nerd to your jock.” He grins again.

* “I think I might join the swim team just so I can see her wear my letterman” that’s actually pretty cute

* “You should do that, I’ll cheer you on at your swim meets” Emmett grins.

*”I’ll hold you to that”

* School life goes on like it always has.

* Weeks pass, marked by tests, homework assignments and projects.

* You actually kind of become friends with Angela, Lauren, Jessica, Connor and Mike.

* “So like, are you and Cullen close?” Mike asks. You and the group are over at Tyler’s house using his fire pit to roast marshmallows. The others are invested in another conversation but you can tell by Lauren’s subtle head tilt that she’s eavesdropping.

* “Which one?” Mike gets flustered at that

* “The one in our grade.”

* “Hmm, well I’d say Alice and I are kinda close, but-“

* “N-no not her,” he clears his throat. “The other one-Edward”

* “Oh, Edward’s my best friend.” The answer slips out automatically.

* “I-Is that why you’re staying with the Cullen’s?” Jessica asks. Everyone’s blatantly listening now, the only one who seems uncomfortable is Angela.

* You sigh. You know everyone at school is probably wondering about the weird relationship. Jessica’s just the only one brave enough to ask you.

* “I mean, it might be.” You’re sure, Edward’s friendship with you is the reason everyone was so quick to accept the living arrangement. “But I actually met Car-I mean Dr. Cullen before I met the others.”

* “How does that work?” It’s Connor who pipes in this time.

* “Well-“ you sigh you really don’t want to do this but at least your sob story will make you seem less suspicious. “So Eleazer and Carmen, they’re my parents, but they’re not my birth parents.”

* You tell them how your parents passed away in an accident many years ago, and how Carlisle had been your Doctor at the time while you recovered. He worked with you for a long time, and you’re pretty sure he wanted to adopt you, but the agency liked Carmen and Eleazer better, probably because Carlisle already had so many adopted kids.

* “Still, Carlisle stayed in my life as my doctor and a family friend. Then I met Edward and the rest of the Cullen’s and... the rest is history...I guess.” You’ve found it’s best to mix a little bit of truth into the lie, though really all of that was mostly what happened.

* Everyone looks testy eyed, Angela is holding back tears, and Lauren hastily wipes her away so no one can see. You wonder if maybe your powers leaked out a bit while you were telling your story.

* “Dude... you’re so strong.” Tyler claps a hand on your shoulder and pulls you into a hug.

* “Ah, it all happened a long time ago, I’m mostly over it now” You tell them all about your Coven in Denali, and how you have two families now, how you don’t regret anything. Well, the only thing you regret, is not staying human, but you can’t mention that so you fake a smile instead.

* Connor breaks out a bottle of vodka he stole from his mom, and pours a shot for everyone

* “To (Y/N)” everyone raises their glass, and not for the first time you feel the urge to cry but no tears escape you.

* You’re a lot closer to everyone after that. You even start sitting at their lunch table every so often.

* In fact the others follow your lead and assimilate with their classmates with ease. Rosalie joins the school book club, and very loudly debates Jane Austen’s to whoever will listen.

* Emmett follows through and joins the swim team. Jasper starts hanging out with some wood shop kids, you’ve caught him arguing about the superior wood in between classes with his new friends. Even Alice joins the art club.

* You try out for the dance/cheer team, it’s the only thing you don’t have to hold back in. Also you’re a great base, you could hold everyone on the team up single handedly during stunts. But you won’t know if you made it until summer vacation

* Everyone seems to be assimilating well, everyone except for Edward

* “You can’t expect me to trust these people (Y/N), not when I know everything they’re really thinking.” You roll your eyes

* “I’m not saying you have to be their best friend Eddie, I’m just saying it looks super suspicious that all the Cullen’s only hang out with each other and refuse to get to know anyone else.” You shove a text book into his chest, and he scoffs

* “It wouldn’t hurt to make some small talk.”

* And so Edward joins your group of human friends, much to the joy of your female companions and dismay of your male ones.

* Life is still strange. But it’s good.

* When you’re surrounded by your new friends, it makes you feel - almost like you’re human again

* And then everything falls apart.

* It’s almost summer vacation. You’re excited, maybe you can go to the beach again soon, and you wonder if it will be alright to take a trip to Denali to see your Coven. You’re pretty confident you made the spirit squad so you’ll have to pencil in camp somewhere. You held back, but just enough by your own parameters to make the bottom end of Varsity.

* You’re at your locker, when Rosalie, and Edward show up. Quickly followed by Emmett, Jasper and Alice.

* “Oh hey guys, you wanna go on a hike tomorrow it’s supposed-“

* “You have to leave.” You’re surprised when it’s Emmett that says this. Kind, jovial Emmett holds a grave expression.

* “What, why-“ for a second you wonder if the Volturi has finally come to get you. It’s been at least seven years since your transformation, it’s about time they started thinking about you.

* But then you notice everyone staring, the quiet buzz of phones vibrating only detected by your super hearing. People are always staring, especially when you’re all together. but this time you notice they’re not staring at the six super models gathered in front of the lockers.

* They’re staring at you.

* “There’s a video of you going around,” Jasper says, and Rosalie placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I think it’s better if you see for yourself.”

* He hands you his blackberry, and the grainy image of you come into focus.

* It’s a YouTube video

* You’re in the locker room, your (Your Color Skin) in full view under the fluorescent lights. You’re wearing your underwear, and your abs are on full display. You’re Grey PE uniform shirt is limp in your hands, you remember this, you got extra laps as a penalty and as a result, you were running late for class, you were alone in the locker room

*well you thought you were alone.

* Your body is literally perfect, the way you’ve always dreamed, but you feel white hot shame rise in your throat like acid.

* Your hands shake as you scroll down to see the comments

* ‘Damn who knew they had a body like that under those dorky sweaters’

* ‘(Y/N) Eleazar: Best body Forks HS 10/10 would f*ck’

* ‘Hot body, if only they ditched the glasses, and started wearing some tighter shirts’

* And the comments go on, there’s at least a hundred. You hold your cardigan a little closer to your body. You don’t have the courage to turn around. You can already imagine them staring at you, picturing what they saw in the video transposed onto your body

* “I’m sorry, I didn’t see this coming until it was already happening-“ Alice touches your shoulder and continues her apology but you don’t hear anything.

* You want to cry, you want to be angry. But all you feel is shame. And the worst part is, you didn’t even do anything wrong. So why do you feel so ashamed?

* “Hey, look at me.” Edward grabs your face in his hands, your amber eyes meet his.

*”Snap out of it.”

* Oh, your powers are leaking through.

*Your gaze turns to your foster family, all of whom sport equally uncomfortable expressions.

* You take a deep breath, and imagine reeling in your emotions, imagining them receding back into a locked box, just like Eleazer taught you.

* You need a calm mind right now.

* “Are you fine now?” Edward asks, his hands still on your face. You nod, resting your hand on top of his

* “I’m good.”

* “Good, because we have to get you out of here.” He’s moved his hand to your arm, about to tug you back home when you pull back and shake your head.

* “We can’t do that.”

* “What do you mean?” Rosalie hisses, her hand curls around your wrist “we have to leave NOW.”

* “No think about it, they’re right.” Jasper says, his eyes meeting yours. At least someone’s on the same oage

* “Think about it Rose, if I leave now with all of you it’s going to look weird.” Normal 15-17 year olds wouldn’t think to handle the situation on their own, especially not entitled rich kids like the Cullen’s.

*She seems to have gotten it because her hand retreats to her side.

* “Well what should we do then, I’m not letting you walk around here with everyone-“ she cuts herself off, a deep frown creasing onto her face as her teeth dig into her bottoms lip.

* “We need to call Carlisle or Esme, they’ll pretend they saw the video from someone else and file a complaint with the school.” You take a deep breath, and imagine the locked box in your mind. Your emotions held carefully within.

* “Until then we all need to pretend like it’s not a big deal.”

* “No way in hell am I doing that!” Emmett growls. “I’m going to rip that fucking peeping Tom piece by piece.”

* “Not all of us need to pretend,” Alice says, her gaze somewhere far away, flicking between futures. “Only Edward, Rosalie and I do.” Her gaze lands on you.

* “You need to go to your class like normal,” a hint of a smile curls onto her mouth. “Everything’s going to work out fine.” Edward’s focusing on Alice, reliving her vision.

* “Do you think you can manage being alone?” Edward asks, you don’t have the next class with any of the Cullen’s. You’ll be on your own.

* You catch Jasper and Alice whispering to each other, but pay it no mind. Flirting even in the middle of your entire world crumbling down.

* You take a deep breath, picturing the locked box over and over, making it a visual mantra.

* “I can get through a period.” Everyone disperses, and Jasper walks you to your next class. Edward wanted to, but Jasper insisted.

*”You’re always hogging them, give someone else a few minutes Edward.”

* You’re almost near your class when Jasper talks to you.

* “Hey, I don’t know if I should tell you this”

*You wonder if he’s going to offer to beat up the person who took the video, or if he’s going to offer you a comforting word.

* “Alice told me you’re going to raise some hell on a misogynist in there” he gives you a wicked grin, his incisors sparkling.

* How is it that every vampire seems to say what you least expect to hear and yet, it’s exactly what you need in the moment.

* He holds out his fist, and you bump it with your own. A grin curling onto your face.

* “Hell yeah I am.”

* You take your usual seat in Spanish like normal. You sit in the front row in this class, diagonally from Jessica. Mike and Angela sit somewhere in the back.

* You just need to focus and keep your emotions in check for 45 minutes. You visualize the box, calming yourself separating the mind and body.

* How did the saying go... a calm soul resides in a calm body?

* “-Zar, Miss. Eleazar!” Your eyes pop up to the teacher, the locked box falling out of grasp.

* “Yes, sorry?” The teacher sighs, you look to the white board to see you’re going over the answers to the worksheet. You’re about to provide the answer for the number you’re on when the teacher cuts you off.

* “I know you might be focused on body building, but in my class you need to focus on the material.” There’s a scattered laugh that fills the room, but your blood runs cold

* “Excuse me?”

* And that’s when your teacher knew he fucked up. He stutters over himself, the sentences overlapping

* “-really you should take it as a compliment-“

* “Oh you think I should take it as a compliment that someone recorded me without my consent while I was changing?”

* The rooms pin drop silent. Your teacher is sweating.

* “Hold on now- I think you’re being a little dramatic don’t you think” A smirk curls onto his lips. “You were in your underwear, it was really no different than wearing a swimsuit” he’s got this smug smile, like he’s right.

*Honestly you were ready to put everything behind you and move on if he just apologized. It’s gross that a teacher is watching videos of a student changing, but what would you have done in his situation if a co-worker showed you.

* “It’s all about perspective, a positive per-“

* But not anymore, you’re not in a forgiving mood, especially not for an idiot like this.

* “No it’s all about consent.” All the anger and despair you’ve been holding back comes flooding out. “When someone wears a swimsuit they’re consenting to show skin and be seen, but I wasn’t contesting to being seen when I was changing in the privacy of the locker room.” You don’t stop for air, your voice trembling

* “And another thing, I wonder how the school administration will feel knowing the same faculty that’s supposed to make students feel safe and enrich their lives is watching creepy videos-“ you stop when you meet your teachers eyes, tears streaming down his face.

* Oh f*ck

* You look to your right, finding your classmates in a similar state, holding back tears.

*So this is what happens to humans when they come in contact with your power.

* You try to visualize the box, but it’s too far now. And all the crying people around you don’t help.

*You need to get out of here.

* “Pathetic, not even an apology for your gas lighting.” She shake your head as confidently as you can, grabbing your bag with trembling hands.

* You walk quickly, maybe there’s a mountain you can climb and wait it out on. You’ll text Carlisle and let him now what happened. It shouldn’t be too-

*” Hey wait!”

* You’re already in the hallway when someone call out to you. You turn, expecting it to be Angela or Mike. Never in a million years would you expect her to be standing there in the middle of the hall, her hand hastily wiping away a stray tear.

* “Mr. Peterson’s a f*cking jerk.” Jessica sniffles, walking quickly to catch up with you. You don’t miss the fact that her bags not slung across her back.

* She must have left a minute after you did. You haven’t thought about her as a friend. Not a real one at least. She’s kind of like hot sauce, it’s fun when it’s around, but if it’s not then that’s not a big deal.

* So to see her here, the first to follow you out, rambling about wether you want to get frozen yogurt or pizza, it warms your unbeating heart.

* “Hey Jessica?” She stops mid-sentence, her eyes swinging up to you.

* You haven’t been fair to her. But you’re going to change that.

* “Thanks for being my friend.” And she smiles at you, her arms wrapped around her tight. It’s not the fake ones you see often the ones she throws to Lauren when she’s asking for Jessica’s opinion on an outfit, or when Connor tries to copy her homework’s. it’s a genuine smile.

* Before she can open her mouth, you hear two more shouts from the hallway.

*Angela and Mike are jogging down the hallway to catch up with you. The latter carrying a bright pink backpack in his hand.

* “Geez Jess, the least you could do is take your bag before you go bolting out of there” Mike’s panting as he holds out her bag. You don’t miss the blush ghosting her face.

*Looks like she still has a crush on him.

* “Hey, are you okay?” Angela asks, and you wish you could cry as you nod.

* “Is it weird that I’m kind of happy right now?” And the three of them smile, before wrapping you into a group hug.

*They all smell terrible. Jessica smells like boiled broccoli, Mike is like the overwhelming stench of fat mixed with sugar, and Angela.. Angela’s probably the worst. She’s sickeningly sweet mixed with a healthy dose of starch.

*it’s disgusting. You have a hard time believing any of the Cullen’s would lose their minds when they’re this close to any of them.

*still, even with the repulsive stench, it’s nice. You haven’t felt the body gets of another human in a long time, or heard the quiet thump of their beating heart. Even the odor is nice, it reminds you that they’re human.

*And for a second it’s easier to pretend you’re human too, just like them.

* “Dude why are you so cold?” Jessica groans, breaking the moment. She taps your arm but doesn’t pull away.

* “While we’re asking questions, Mike how much axe do you use?” Angela’s eyes are watering as you both laugh.

* “Like you’re one to talk, I can smell your strawberry shampoo two hallways over!”

* You watch the three of them untangle and start walking to the back exit from the gym.

* “So where do we go now? We can’t stay here.” Angela says

* “I was thinking maybe a coffee shop, if we take out books we might pass for having a free period” Jessica pipes in

* “Oh, how about the Arcade? A buddy of mine works there since he’s already on break from college, I don’t think he’ll minds us hanging out there.”

* So this is what Alice meant when she said everything was going to be okay.

*Your Human Friends were going to save you

*You haven’t forgotten Edward’s warning, someone did break your trust and let you down.

* But that’s what it means to build friendships, you open yourself to being hurt, and so do they.

* “Hey (Y/N/N), what do you think?” Mike asks, and they all turn around to notice you’re not walking with them.

*You try not to smile to wide. You don’t want to scare them off now.

* “I think there’s something fun about an arcade during the day, no lines.” You say, walking a little bit faster to catch up with your friends.

Tag list: @moonlights27 @thebluetint @the100thtwilight @awesomebooklover17 @oneofthepotterheads @smileygirl08 @imdoingathingmom @iconicgguk @yrawn @alyciaswhore @little-horror-show

#twilight imagines #twilight reader insert #twilight headcanon #twilight imagine #twilight saga #twilight #Edward Cullen #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen imagine #Emmett cullen #Emmett cullen x Rosalie hale #rosalie hale #Jasper hale x Alice cullen #Edward Cullen x y/n #Edward Cullen x you #midnight sun #superhero—imagines

[axoxtxhxh]

Not Without Trying - Chapter 2

ReinerxFem! Reader

Warnings: Sex, taking virginity, oral (F receiving)

Word Count: ~4,000

Summary: This comes after the chapter Rain which was the first one of this story. I sort of skipped around a lot. You have to imagine this is about a month after Rain happened where Reiner and the reader had a little time to get closer.

A/N: I wrote this a while ago and am going back over it now to edit and post and I basically cringed the whole time. I don’t think I’m that much better now, but I’m definitely better and I did my best not to edit too much because I honestly want to be reminded of my progress. Anyway, that’s all.

There were good days being a part of the survey corps and then there were really good days. Today was one of the really good days. A mission completed perfectly, no casualties and no missions lined up meant they actually had a weekend. Y/N’s favorite way to celebrate was with drinking and dancing. She loved letting loose and spending time with friends and it feels like the last few months were mission after mission. Finally, a day off to have fun.

The band started playing just after dinner. Nearly everyone started dancing around the mess hall. Everyone was drinking and having fun. Most of the younger cadets were making fools of themselves, but some of the upper ranks were dancing and having fun as well. Y/N was one of the few captains who was dancing. Mike had grabbed her hand at the beginning of the night and she spent most of the time dancing around the room with him causing a number of the other men in the room to grumble wondering when their turn was. One of those men being Reiner. He continued sipping his beer watching Mike laughing and holding Y/N’s waist as he twirled her around the room.

“She dances better without you suffocating her,” he grumbled to himself.

“What’s that?” Connie asked him, laughing while he watched Jean and Eren fight over who was dancing better. Reiner just hugged his beer a little closer, continuing to watch Y/N.

After the eighth song of dancing with Mike, Y/N finally got away and sat down with Reiner. She convinced Mike to go get her a drink and he ran off.

“How’s your night? You look grumpy.” She sat down next to Reiner.

“I’m not grumpy.” He lied.

“Okay.” She mocked his grumpy tone. “You should be having fun! We never get to do this. They even hired a band!” They both looked at the front of the mess hall where they were playing. She watched Reiner take another sip of his beer, his eyebrows lowered. “You’re so annoying!” She stood up, grabbing his arm.

“What are you—” He was yanked out of his seat.

“Let’s dance!” Y/N dragged him over to an open spot and started twirling around him. He spun around trying to follow her, a smiling growing on his face. He caught her mid twirl and dipped her backwards, Y/N laughed at the surprise. They were able to dance for another minute before Mike returned with her drink and took her away. Reiner stood there sulking.

“I have to piss.” He needed to get away and started towards the door.

“Hey dumbass,” Levi called after him, “the bathrooms are upstairs.”

“I need some fresh air, I’ll just use a bush out here.”

“Take someone with you, you’re drunk.” Erwin said.

“I’ll go!” Y/N hopped off her spot on the table, leaving Mike behind, pouting. Stepping outside, the cold air felt so good on her hot skin. She searched for Reiner, but he wasn’t anywhere she could see.

“Reiner?” She called out, peeking around the side of the building. Vacant. She made her way behind the empty carriage. “You better not have gotten lost,” she mumbled. She slowly approached the bushes behind the carriage.

That’s when Reiner seized the opportunity and popped up from behind the bush and shouted, “Boo!” Y/N’s hands flew up and she hit him in the nose. “Fuck!” He groaned, holding his nose.

“Reiner!” She put her hand on his hand covering his nose trying to alleviate the pain this way somehow, moving him over so they could sit on the back of the carriage they were near.

“I thought you were drinking,” he complained, checking his nose for blood. “How do you even have the speed to move so fast?”

“Years of practice.” She smiled. “I’m sorry, does it hurt?”

He moved his mouth around trying to bend and turn his nose. Y/N started laughing at the faces he was making.

“What?” Reiner asked confused. She laughed even harder.

“Your…face…” she was leaning back holding her stomach cackling and Reiner started smiling at her. Unable to resist touching her, he bent forward towards her and started tickling her side inciting an even bigger laugh from her. “I’m going to pee!” She was squirming around on her back, Reiner following her with his hands, still tickling her waist. She caught her breath enough to use her knee to push him forward, launching him forward on top of her. They both continued laughing, slowly letting it die down, loving each other’s company.

Y/N let out one final sigh, smiling over the whole thing and looked up at Reiner, still on top of her. He was also smiling. He looked into Y/N’s eyes. They were half-closed from drinking, but that glimmer in her eyes was always there. A loose hair was pulled from her bun, falling over her face. Reiner reached his hand up and tucked it behind her ear, then smoothed out her hair. She smiled at him.

Maybe on a different day or a different time. Maybe if Reiner hadn’t been drinking. Maybe if they never spent that time in cabin together. Maybe if her body wasn’t radiating warmth that he could feel through his jacket. Maybe if her breath didn’t smell so sweet and her smile wasn’t so inviting. There were so many maybes. So many maybes that maybe could have stopped him from doing it, but all he knew is he wanted her. Using the same hand he used to smooth her hair, he rested it on her cheek. Not really sure exactly how this was supposed to go, he leaned forward and kissed her.

The kiss was unlike anything he had ever felt before. So warm, so soft, he tried moving his lips around a little bit. Y/N did the same. He moved his hands from her face down to her waist and Y/N brought her arms around his neck. She let out a moan into his mouth and Reiner got chills. The kiss became more passionate, deeper. Everything about it felt so good. Their lips were connected, but he could feel it all over his body. Y/N started to wrap her leg around Reiner and quickly woke up to what was happening.

“Oh my gosh…” She breathed out, pushing Reiner off of her. “We…”

“I’m sorry,” Reiner also breathing heavily, cheeks flushing a deep pink. “I’m sorry. I—I couldn’t stop myself.”

“It’s fine. It’s not like I was stopping you.” She sat up looking at him. He was on his knees, still looking at her, an innocent but pleading look in his eyes.

“Y/N?... Can we—” He cleared his throat. “Can we do it again?”

Her eyes widened. She was about to ask him why he would want a second drunken kiss when she realized. Her hand flew to her mouth, gasping. “Your first kiss.” Her eyes widened even more. “I was just…”

He smiled and shuffled closer to her.

“Why did you do that?” She was still so confused. “Why did you kiss me? You… Your first kiss.” She couldn’t understand. She sat up starting to move to get off the carriage. “Ughh, I feel like I ruined it. I’m sorry.”

“What?!—No!” Reiner followed her, hopping off and grabbing her hand, “I liked it!”

“Ugh, I drunk-kissed you and I’m not even that drunk.” Y/N brushed leaves off her jacket, unsure of where they even came from. “I need to lie down.” She started walking back inside, Reiner right behind her.

They opened the doors to the building and the band was still playing music, filling the mess hall. Everyone was still dancing and drinking. They were all caught up in watching Jean try to chug a full beer that no one noticed them walk through the room and up the stairs. The upstairs hallway was much quieter. Y/N opened the door to her office and continued through to her bedroom and Reiner froze, not going in.

“Can we just talk a bit?” He held her hand.

“Yeah. So, come in,” She said gesturing to the room. Reiner hesitantly walked in behind her. He stood against the wall as she sat on her bed. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I love you.” Both Reiner and Y/N gasped and stared at each other with wide eyes.

“You love me?”

“No, I didn’t mean that.” He looked around the room unsure of what he was trying to say. “I don’t know. Maybe I do.” He sat on the bed. “I guess I don’t know what it would feel like to be in love.”

“You’re confusing me.” She narrowed her eyes. “Are you telling me you have feelings for me or asking me what it feels like to be in love?”

“I guess I’m saying I don’t know, but if I do have feelings for you,” he started, “Is it bad?” She was thinking about it when he continued speaking. “Does it really bother you that you were my first kiss?”

She was about to answer when she realized she didn’t really know. Why was she so bothered by it? It’s not like she worried about it ruining their friendship because Reiner was already ready to do that. The part that bothered her the most was worrying it was bad. She barely knew what was happening when he kissed her. What if it was a really bad kiss? But why does that even bother her? She looked over at him, he was waiting for her response patiently. He was always so patient with her. She could be so annoying, but he always stuck around her. Her jokes weren’t even that funny, but he always laughed. She was often judgmental and came across as mean, but he was never offended.

She looked down at her hands. She cared about him, slowly coming to the realization that maybe it was more than she originally thought. She looked back up at him, still waiting patiently for her.

“Give me a second chance.” She finally spoke.

“You want me to forgive you?” He was confused. “But you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“No.” She smiled. “Give me a second chance at that kiss.”

Reiner’s face flushed a bright pink and he smiled shyly. Y/N moved a little closer to him.

“Right now?” He looked at her.

“Well, yeah. Do you want to wait?” She asked.

“No, no!” Reiner insisted. “Now is good.”

Y/N lifted her hand to his cheek to guide his face to hers. They both leaned in until their lips met. Again, those sparks that ran through his body the first time were there too. Was he supposed to want more of her? Was there ever a point where he would feel satisfied? Reiner’s hand quickly moved to her waist and he opened his mouth to allow their kiss to deepen. Y/N’s hand went around his neck and in his hair. His stomach did flips and he let out a sigh, his second hand going to her lower back. He slowly turned her body, lowering her back to the bed, him hovering over her.

Was this love? He felt like he could stay like this forever, his lips on hers, breathing each other in. Everything was perfect.

Y/N was the one to stop the kiss, breathless. She was about to speak, but realized there was nothing to say. Nothing to add to the moment which felt perfect to her. She ruffled Reiner’s hair and he smiled. He backed up and helped her sit up. Both of them still unsure of what to say.

Reiner couldn’t look away. He’d never experienced anything like this. He wanted to touch her, to always keep his hands on her. His eyes never getting tired of seeing her. Her smile, the glimmer in her eyes, her hands. He looked down at her hand in his, playing with her fingers. He looked back up at her noticing her hair tousled instead of its normally tight style.

“Why do you always tie your hair up?” He asked curiously.

“My hair?” She reached her hands up to touch it. “I don’t know. It’s just easier.”

“Can I see it loose?” He reached up to take out the tie, but she pushed his hand away.

“It takes a lot to keep it like this.” She laughed, “It’s easier if I do it.” She slowly removed the pins and ties. As soon as she removed the final pin, her hair fell down in waves. Full, [your hair color] tresses all the way down to her waist.

Oh yes, Reiner was in love. He stared at her, awe-struck and entirely enchanted by how beautiful she looked. He tried to speak, but only managed to say, “I…” He reached up and took a handful into his hands, brushing through it, enjoying the feeling of silk running between his fingers. He smiled at her, then brought his hand to her cheek and leaned in, kissing her. This kiss started out passionately and swiftly made its way to burning fire. Reiner was all over her, hands holding any part he thought she was okay with, his heart racing.

“Have sex with me.” He breathed, pulling away from the kiss and moving his lips to her jaw and neck.

“What?” Y/N tried separating from him, but his grip was too strong. “You just had your first kiss.” He loosened his grip and she stood up. “Don’t you want to… I don’t know, wait a little?”

His eyes were full of lust, pupils blown. “What for?” He held her hands in his, still sitting on the bed. He started kissing her wrists and arms.

“You just… because you’re so… but…” She couldn’t think of anything to say, watching his lips move over her skin.

He stood up, took off his jacket and pulled her in, kissing her cheek and jaw. “If you want me to stop, I will.” He moved to her neck now. “But don’t worry about me, I’m not a kid.”

She put her hand on the back of his neck, letting her eyes flutter closed with pleasure. That was enough for him to pick her up and move her back to the bed.

Reiner continued focusing on her neck and jawline while Y/N unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off. She had been wondering what this would feel like, ever since the cabin. She pushed Reiner up and he looked at her.

“Lay on your back,” she directed and he followed. She unbuttoned her jacket and threw it to the side then lifted the bottom of her shirt and pulled it over her head. She went to reach for the tank top, but Reiner put his hand to stop her.

“I’ll do this one.” He sat her down on the edge of the bed and lifted her tank top up, dropping it to the side. He then pulled off his shoes and kneeled down in front of Y/N to do the same for her. He lingered where he was, looking up at her, eyes half-lidded.

“What do you like?” She asked him, running her hands through his hair.

“What do you mean?” He mumbled, enjoying her touch.

“Like, what can I do for you?” She didn’t know how else to say it, but he wasn’t getting it. “Do you know what turns you on? Like what makes you feel good?”

“Hmm… watching you enjoy yourself,” He said with a smile. She rolled her eyes.

“I’ll just figure it out myself.” She pulled him up and leaned backwards. He was back at her neck. She rolled over so she was on top of him, straddling his hips. He lifted his upper body to meet hers and kissed her.

“Show me how to take that off of you.” He pointed at her bra. She took his hands and moved them to her back. He followed her hand motions until her bra came undone and he pulled it off of her. He buried his face in her chest and just held it there for a while before he started using his mouth on every inch of skin within his grasp. He reached her nipple and covered it with his mouth, licking and sucking. Y/N shuddered and her head fell back.

Reiner noticed and watched her. He moved on to the other nipple, hoping to get another response. Instead she pulled his head back and brought her lips to his. She sucked on his bottom lip and bit down lightly, running her tongue over it then moving to his upper lip. Reiner kept his hands on her back, pulling her close, loving the soft warm feeling her breasts left on his chest.

She pushed him back and leaned over, kissing his neck. Reiner let out a jagged breath. She pushed her butt down and rubbed against his groin. He grabbed her back and thigh, groaning. She continued grinding her hips against his, causing the occasional moan to escape him. He moved his hand from her back and held onto one of her breasts, squeezing and moving it around his hand causing her hips to start bucking.

She quickly got off of him, breathing heavily. Reiner watched as she sat next to him.

“I’m sorry,” she spoke quietly. “I’m trying to go slow, but this feels so good.” She laid back on the bed, unbuckling her pants. Reiner helped her slide them off. She reached up and grabbed the edge of the bed from above her. “Please don’t stop touching me.” She begged and Reiner was all over her. He made his way up to her lips again.

“Where do you want me to touch you?” He asked, looking for guidance. She pulled off her underwear and opened her legs, steering Reiner’s hand to where she needed him the most. He wasn’t sure exactly what she wanted, but the moment his hand was near her warmth, she was moaning. He used his first two fingers to move around and immediately felt how wet and slippery she was. He wished he could just bury his face into her. For now, he continued moving around, sliding his hand forward. Her hips twitched. He slid his fingers around that area again and she pulled him closer, breath shaking. Continuing on, he moved his fingers lower. Y/N grabbed his hand, stopping him.

“Go back.” She laid her head back as Reiner did what she said. Gripping the sheets, Y/N was a moaning mess, so close to her release. How long had it been that she was this desperate, bucking her hips at his slightest touch? For not knowing what he was doing, he was doing a really good job. He sped up and leaned into the crook of her neck, finding any patch of skin he could find, leaving a mark. This sent Y/N over the edge, arching her back and breathing out his name until she could catch her breath.

As soon as her high died down, she reached her arms around his neck, pulling him in to kiss him. The kiss was a lot shorter than she expected as he sat up and made his way to the edge of the bed. He looked down at her legs, gently tracing his finger from her knee to her hip, then up around her waist. In one swift movement, he pulled her down to the edge of the bed where he kneeled in front of her, propping one of her legs over his shoulder, he began using his mouth to explore her warmth.

“Reiner! Wait!” Y/N attempted to stop him, but just as she did, his tongue made its way through her dewy folds and she was thrown back, moaning louder than before. Her grip on the sheets so tight she was worried she would rip them while her thighs closed around Reiner’s head.

Reiner couldn’t get enough, sucking at anything he could get his lips around. He wrapped his arms around her thigh, holding her hips to minimize the jerking. He hummed into her, she released one hand from the sheets to grab his hair, pushing him deeper. His nose rubbed her clit and she let out a strangled groan, unable to maintain the grip on his hair. At this point it didn’t matter. Reiner was rock hard, erection throbbing at every movement and noise that came from Y/N. He used his tongue to search and found the over-sensitive nub and focused all his attention on that, sucking, licking and moaning into her. Watching her move above him, his eyes rolled back as he drank her in. Hands squeezing her hips, he was barely able to control himself. His aching member was crying to be inside of her.

Y/N’s body was trembling. Muscles spasming out of her control as Reiner filled her body with euphoric pleasure. She called out his name as her orgasm rolled over her in hot waves, then stealing her breath, leaving every inch of her body juddering wildly. She lay there, unable to move as Reiner continued his work, slowing down. As her breathing slowed with him, he pulled away, holding onto her clit with his lips until finally he released it with a slick pop. Y/N mewled with one last hip twitch.

Reiner stood up, face flushed and breathing heavily, he looked down at Y/N.

“We need to get you out of those pants.” She breathed and sat up, kneeling on the bed in front of him. She started working at the buckles and he rested his hands on her shoulders. She slid his pants and underwear down and his member sprang free, red-hot and pulsating, precum rolling down the shaft. Y/N placed her hands at the tip and Reiner gasped, squeezing her shoulders.

“Y/N,” he begged, “I really just need to be inside you.” She moved him to sit on the bed and she straddled his hips, hovering. He kept his hands on her back and his forehead resting on her chest. She quickly lowered herself onto him, moaning as she felt him squeezed in so tightly. He groaned and held her closer to him. She worked her hips, getting into a motion as Reiner’s head lifted back, then leaned forward and left kisses on her neck and collarbone.

Reiner’s groans were turning into grunts and coming more frequently so Y/N picked up her pace, building her orgasm with him. His face was buried in her chest again, mouth and hand caressing her breasts. He took a nipple in his mouth and began rolling it around his tongue and teeth. Y/N’s head shot back, increasing the speed of her grinding while also increasing the strength and depth of her thrust.

“Fu—uck!” Reiner’s breath caught. He leaned back on his arm and lifted his hips up slightly, helping deepen the thrust even more. He could tell Y/N was mid orgasm at this point and he was also… just… about… there… His head flew back and his eyes opened wide, pupils dilated, fireworks going off in his brain while his body quivered, fueling the ecstasy. He wanted to moan, but nothing came out. He stayed frozen, mouth open, unable to move until he came back down from his high huffing and panting for air. Y/N crumpled onto him, completely spent, and he held onto her with his hand, mind still hazy.

Y/N sat up enough to lay back down on the bed, pulling Reiner to lay next to her. She nuzzled into his chest and wrapped her arm around his waist, then fell asleep.

He looked down at her, smiling. How was this captain of the survey corps able to steal his heart so easily? He covered them up with the blanket, kissed the top of her head, then fell asleep.

Taglist: @lainessia

#attack on titan smut #AOT smit #aot x reader #aot reiner imagines #snk x reader #snk reiner #snk reiner imagines #reiner braun #Attack on titan imagines #attack on titan reiner #reiner smut #reiner braun x reader #reiner braun smut #tw:sex #tw: virginity #tw:oral #snk reiner imagine #aot reiner imagine #reiner x reader #reiner braun imagine #reiner braunxreader #tw: drinking #Not Without Trying

[bottomlouisficfest]

We hope you’ve enjoyed the second week of fics from the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Every weekend, we’re compiling all of the fics from that week into one roundup post so they’re easy to find for anyone looking to catch up on fics they missed. Enjoy these amazing fics and give them the love they deserve!

blinded by the sparks

 A fic by wallstracktwo on AO3 | @wallstracktwo on Tumblr

22k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

"You can’t even keep your lies straight. Mike has the memory of an elephant and can remember every single detail about every single person he’s ever met, so don’t stand there and tell me that he mixed you up with someone else.” He took back Harry’s cigarette. “I saw you exchanging lower chips for higher ones. I saw you counting the cards. There is no fucking way you won seven thousand dollars tonight honestly. And so I will repeat myself — I want in. Fifty-fifty.”

Harry was completely taken aback by the stunningly attractive man standing in front of him. He made several attempts to say something — opening and closing his mouth at least twice before he was finally able to string a few words together. “What? No. No way. No. Sorry, but I work alone.”

That was the truth too — he had never trusted anyone enough to let them get close, especially when it came to his scamming, so having a partner was completely, utterly out of the question.

“Don’t you think you need someone on the…” Louis’ tongue darted out, licking his lips as his eyes flickered to Harry’s mouth, one eyebrow cocking up. “...inside.”

Or - Harry is a scammer who drifts from casino to casino. Louis is the new waiter who wants in on the scam.

somewhere in between

A fic by soldouthaz on AO3 | @soldouthaz on Tumblr | soldouthaz on Twitter

42k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Louis wakes up early. He brushes his teeth and can only stomach a piece of toast for breakfast, dressing quickly and heading for the car. He pulls into the parking lot of the Department of Dominance and Submission just as they’re unlocking the doors. It takes him all of an hour in the uncomfortable chairs to fill out the paperwork to the best and most accurate of his ability, handing it over to the receptionist as soon as he’s finished and wiping his sweaty palms on his business trousers.

There’s a high chance that within ten to fifteen business days, Louis will be matched with a dominant.

Shit.

On My Mind All The Time, Say You're Mine 

A fic by Safetypinprince on AO3 | @roselouis on Tumblr | femboyIouis on Twitter

9k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“Dude, we’re inside, and it’s night time. Those don’t look as cool as you think they do.” Louis could kick himself, he sounded so stupid, but it certainly got the guy’s attention.

It was at that unfortunate moment that he noticed several other things about this hot asshole, that he hadn’t noticed just staring from afar. First, when Louis spoke to him, his gaze was kind of unfocused behind his sunglasses, and secondly, that he had a red and white cane folded up under his arm.

“I’m… Blind,” the man chuckled, awkwardly.  

Louis wanted to melt into a puddle out of pure embarrassment.

“I— am so sorry. I have to go.”

“Hey, wait, wait,” the man soothed, grabbing at Louis’ shoulders before he could get away.

“I’m sorry,” Louis repeated, looking down at his shoes.

“It’s alright,” He cackled. “I get it a lot. More than you know.”

Alternatively titled: and they were roommates.

A Silent Whisper (That's Left Unsaid)

A fic by MyEnglishRose on AO3 | @lwtisloved on Tumblr | darlinlou on Twitter

50k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“So… we’re doing this?”

Louis shrugs, suddenly acting disinterested.

“Your call, Curly.”

Instead of a verbal response, Harry suddenly takes Louis’ left hand in his. The black ring seems to nag him as the fire’s light reflects its polished edges. He ignores Louis’ curious gaze as he quickly takes off one of his own rings — the rose one —, sliding it on Louis’ middle finger. It is a little large and when he lets go of his hand, Louis has to curl it into a fist so the ring doesn’t immediately fall off.

“We’ll tell them it’s a promise ring, not an actual engagement,” Harry declares, trying to ignore how warm his cheeks feel. Hopefully, it can’t be seen as he is facing away from the fireplace.

“Right… could have gotten me a fitted ring though, my Harry ten years ago was more thoughtful.”

Louis’ tone is light and teasing again. It creates a small smile on Harry’s lips.

“Someday,” he whispers before he even registers it himself.

They both ignore it.

Or. A Fake Relationship & Exes to Lovers AU ft a failed proposal ten years ago, an oblivious Harry, an overworked Louis, Zayn as the protective best friend, a meddling aunt and a lot of talks about weddings and rings.

sweet like honey

A fic by falsegoodnight on AO3 | @falsegoodnight on Tumblr | falsegoodnight on Twitter

33k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Weeks of flat shopping with their limited budget with Louis as a librarian aid and Harry as a barista and arguments about whether a balcony or extended bathroom suite were more important (Harry wanted to be able to feel the crisp night’s air and watch the sun set and Louis just wanted to take long bubble baths) led to them stumbling across the perfect fit. A small flat only ten minutes from campus with a cramped but lovely balcony and an included bath.

It’s affordable too… well, sort of. But they always manage. Louis picks up more shifts as an aid, adapting a habit of bringing his Psych textbooks and homework with him to finish in between duties, and later his script so he can quietly practice lines with little distraction.

Harry also increases his number of shifts at the cafe and valiantly endures the nasty customers who for some reason flock to their establishment like moths to a flame.

For a while, it’s enough.

-

Or, Harry and Louis need money and they find an unconventional solution in the form of PornHub. It’s not supposed to be a big deal.

Spoonful of Sugar

A fic by zanni_scaramouche on AO3 | @zanniscaramouche on Tumblr

42k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Harry Styles.  

A name better suited for a myth than a man. Like the name of the devil, people either whisper it in fear or laugh it off as fable. Cut it open and this city’s heart doesn’t bleed red. It’s snowy white, and it pulses in the tight grip of Lucifer himself.

Louis Tomlinson cares for his family above all else, a fact that’s led him on a twisted path peddling drugs to support them. Just as he’s made the decision to jump ship, Louis gets snared between the two largest crime syndicates in the city. To keep his family safe he’s forced to trust the man that failed to keep his promise two years ago, the resident drug lord he’s unknowingly been working for, Harry Styles.

Let's Break the Internet

A fic by louizsv on AO3 | @ashleyjohnsonfanaccount on Tumblr | piccadillyplum on Twitter

9k | Explicit | Louis/OMC | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“I’ll tell you what,” Sam leans forward in his chair and steeples his fingers in front of his face, “If you actually make an account and sell nudie pics and porn for more than three months, I’ll believe you.”

Louis purses his lips, ignoring the returning blush on his cheeks at the thought of having to film himself in compromising positions or taking photos of himself without any clothes on. Raising his chin defiantly, Louis accepts the challenge.

“Fine,” he agrees, “But when I win, you have to make one too.”

Lips quirked, Sam nods and holds out a hand, “Deal.” -- Or, the one where Louis is an Only Fans baby.

in a sea of mist

A fic by tomlinvelvet on AO3 | @tomlinvelvetfics on Tumblr

126k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

A Greek Mythology/Camp Half-Blood AU where Harry is lost, the road to peace is a wretched one, and somehow, through a mist of confusion and regrets, Louis seems to be the only thing that makes sense and everything Harry needs.

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Week #1 Fic Roundup

#fics 2020

[pluviophile-bookworm]

High School Musical: The Musical: The Series: The Rewatch pt. 4

I really need a pick-me-up after 2x11, and I feel like 1x7 might be what I'm looking for, so here I am again with another HSMTMTS rewatch. I'm genuinely so excited for both of these episodes, so without further ado, let's jump right into

1x6: She stands for... lies, pressure and very inappropriate suggestions (coming here after 2x11 might have been a mistake, actually)

I honestly don't get why Nini's reaction to seeing Ricky in full Troy costume was so big — he actually looked pretty ok to me. Sure, the wig is a bit too much, but so what, it's cute.

Ahhh my boy Reddy is so adorable in that talking head... 'click!' Gosh, I love seeing him so cheerful! Guess he's embracing his role as part of the crew. As he should.

'I'm home'. Yes, Sebby, and you look so good, too! Gosh, I love this scene so much. I can't believe I'd forgotten about it.

Gina looks beautiful, though — I mean, she looks beautiful in anything, but I really like the Taylor look on her.

Ok, I fully understand everyone's frustration about this picture — it's genuinely so hard to get a good picture of someone jumping up in the air, and I can only imagine what it would be like with six people. A bunch of my classmates tried to do something like that ages ago and, needless to say, it didn't go very well. No good pictures were taken that day.

Ah, Portwell: the early days. Ok, but wanting something and feeling like you have to get it is far from the same thing, EJ. Honestly, these two in their early days as accomplices... this is not the first time they've been like 'X is the same thing as Y' when it's obviously not. I mean, of course, that time they became accomplices because 'we want the same thing' — which, at that point, they didn't.

Ok, but they were in such unison with that 'Not now!'... couple goals! You know, even before either of them had considered the possibility of them being a couple for real.

That's a lot of pressure that Miss Jenn is putting on dear Carlito over there. I mean, he's one of the youngest at the drama club and he has to essentially do her job for her, all while she's not even sure if she'll be able to return to her job. I just... keep reminding myself that these kids are closer in age to my little brother than they are to me (except for EJ, who is precisely in the middle), and then the pressure they're under takes on completely new proportions in my mind. None of them should have to deal with all of this. And no amount of 'trust the process' is making it better.

'Should I just live vicariously through someone else?' Oh Reddy, you should just live for yourself. I mean, the truth is I don't practice what I preach most of the time, but I really do mean this. Just go out there and live your best life. You're not Ricky's therapy dog or anything (that being said, Ricky's getting a therapy dog when?).

What part of 'a forest of boys' does Nini not get? It's simple enough. Just help Carlos do his job, how about that? I mean, he shouldn't have to do everything himself anyway.

See? He cracked. That's what happens when you put all this responsibility on a teen's shoulders and be like 'deal with it'. He was just trying his best, you guys. He did not deserve all the clapback.

Ricky's forced optimism about Miss Jenn and the show is too much even for me. Sure, I know everything turns out mostly alright at the end, but this just sounds like Ricky's on the verge of a breakdown. You know, every time someone's been too unrealistically positive on this show, it has ended in a breakdown. And that's the last thing I want.

I do agree about the simple acoustic version of the song, though. Sometimes simple is the best option.

Major props to Carlos for going up to Mr. Mazzara like that. If someone had bullied me, and especially if that someone was a teacher, I'd never have dared to call them 'Benjamin Mazarra!' to their face. Even when he's on the verge of despair, this boy is still the boldest. And we love him for that.

Is this where the 'Carlos Surname' joke started, though? I had forgotten. It was funny while it lasted.

Ricky doesn't know it yet, but he's seriously playing with Gina's feelings there. And I don't blame him because, again, he doesn't know yet, but I still feel bad for her.

'Despite the 4.3 GPA, I'm actually an idiot.' — EJ is high intelligence, low wisdom, confirmed. Not that this is news, but I really don't remember much about this season, so I'm pointing this out now.

Now forgive me if I'm not feeling for Miss Jenn after 2x11... she did some really unforgivable things there. Still, as much as I want to say a real qualified teacher would not do any of that, my personal experience suggests otherwise, quite unfortunately. Miss Jenn might not be very emotionally mature, but not having legal teaching credentials is not her biggest issue, really. It is precisely her lack of emotional maturity.

OMG, Big Red accidentally invited the entire drama club over! And that, I guess, is half of how Redlyn established themselves as the hosts of every out-of-school drama club gathering. Thanksgiving is, of course, the other half. Gosh, those two were the parents of the drama club even before they were a couple. Guess they're soulmates in that way, too.

Ok, so I didn't comment on this after 2x8 when Big Red did it to Ricky, but now that I finally notice that Seb did it to Carlos, too (I took my time, thanks), I need to talk about the knee touch thing. See, this is exactly the amount of touch I used to be comfortable with (since I'm very touch-averse) — both on the giving and on the receiving end — and it can mean so much when you feel bad. It's a subtle 'hey, I'm here, it's going to be fine', a sort of hug-without-the-hugging... I feel like this is a gesture we don't see enough of in media and it can feel just as intimate as, say, holding hands or cuddling. I don't want to talk about kissing because I don't know anything about it. But I just love how we've got the knee touch depicted by both a romantic pairing and a platonic pairing in the show. Ok, rant over. But I just really wanted to talk about this because, well, I saw myself in it.

'Her past is a little bit sketchy'... I see, Ash has already started writing Truth, Justice and Songs in Our Key, even if she doesn't know it quite yet.

Miss Jenn finding out Mike is Ricky's dad is just as awkward as it should be. Whatever they had going on should have ended right then and there.

'... people in the dramatic arts are insane' — 'Thank you.' — Umm, Miss Jenn, you are not really helping your case there. Quite frankly, you're lucky you've got the allegiance of the entire drama club. I don't think they'd have your back as much after 2x11, though.

Ok, but... Big Red wearing a longcoat just to take it off for the dramatic flair of it all? An icon if I've ever seen one. Also, mad props to Larry for apparently learning this number in record time after Dara got injured.

Oh, and... mad props to all the kids in-universe for writing, rehearsing, and learning this entire number in one night.

So both Seb and Natalie have solo lines in the song... and Seb was promoted to main in s2. So does this mean Natalie will get the same treatment in s3? I mean, that will probably mean they'll try to stick her in some sort of romantic plot, and I really don't need that, but I really, really want her to be a main character.

Also, let's not forget we had our first Redlyn moment in this number... seeing them dance together makes my heart jump with joy!

I won't lie, though, the entire dance number and everything was just a little bit uncomfortable to watch after 2x11... these kids do so much for Miss Jenn, and what does she do? Put insane amounts of pressure on some of them, shuts others down at every attempt to put in a word, favours yet others despite their abysmal performance at the audition, and then has the audacity to tell that same person to jump off of something high, with all the implications attached? Not that I'm naming any names, of course. Ok, this has taken a sudden and uncalled for turn for the dark, so I guess I'll just move right along to the next episode now.

1x7: A world where 'That was terrible!' and 'I'm so happy!' can both be true at the same time

My girl Ash is doing the recap! And she's a pun queen, too. 'Miss Jenn was in hot water, Carlos was a hot mess...' — not pleasant, but so true. But wbk. Ashlyn is the best.

And... Ricky and Nini's on and off chemistry is back on. Good for them, because after season 2, I really needed to see a good rehearsal. But I'm thinking EJ's joy at the end-of-school bell had little to do with Thanksgiving...

That look Reddy gave Ashlyn as she was walking out... might be me digging for breadcrumbs, but I think I just saw the exact moment my boy fell, and he fell hard. Ok, I realise now after I've said this that 'fall' probably isn't the best choice of words, but you know what I mean. Fell for Ashlyn. Not like... oh, never mind.

'So meek, so mild, sword!' I can't really explain it, but I love this line. And I feel like it describes Ash so perfectly: like, she might be meek and mild, but if you cross her, she's armed. Gosh, I love her!

Not the Caswell parents leaving their children alone over two holiday breaks! No wonder these two are the way they are. But they're about to get a beautiful Thanksgiving celebration. [Fun personal fact: the year I was born, my birthday fell on Thanksgiving day. That doesn't mean much in Bulgaria, but my dad works with a lot of Americans so my parents knew about it and I've known this and that about this holiday I've never celebrated since I was very young. I have no idea why I'm telling you this, but Thanksgiving has always reminded me of my birthday for this reason, so... ok, moving on.]

So I know she kind of suggested it, but... why does Carlos think it's his place to invite people over to Ashlyn's? I mean, this was part 2 of Redlyn establishing themselves as the hosts for any out-of-school gathering, but... oh well, it led to a beautiful party with everyone, so... I'll allow it.

I really liked Nini's talk with her grandma. It was really nice, and a very fitting way to remind everyone what Thanksgiving is originally about. I feel like people often forget that when it comes to... literally every major commercialised holiday.

Wow, EJ really is that person where once the tap is open, it can't stop spilling. And I kind of like that look on him. It's a transitional stage between EJ 1.0 and EJ 2.0, and I appreciate it for what it is.

Ahhhh it's Redlyn's first proper 1-on-1 conversation! I mean, it got kind of really awkward really quickly because of — surprise, surprise — Nini and Ricky (and EJ), but those two are so adorable! No more breadcrumbs — we're about to get an entire five-course meal here! Which goes really well with the Thanksgiving setting, now that I think of it.

Gosh, they've never really talked and my boy whips out the 'the only thing I'd ever throw at your face is a brighter spotlight' line right off the bat? Boy is whipped! But like, he is the master of grand gestures where Ashlyn is concerned. Still, in this first moment they shared, he really was like, go big or go home, and home isn't really an option here. But I should have known, it's in his name after all. Gosh, I love both of those two so much! Especially when they're together.

Ok, so... this is a really bad way to meet your mother's new boyfriend. Poor Ricky. As if ringing his mum wasn't hard enough already.

See, when I rewatch season 1, I get where the Rina stans are coming from, but then again, remember when I used to say I wanted Gina and EJ to just be friends? Yeah, that's changed too. Not that I ever shipped Rina romantically — I rarely ever ship a pairing unless they're explicitly stated to have something going on, just because I can't see that sort of stuff very clearly — but I really, really want them (Ricky and Gina, I mean) to be really good friends. Once they get past the awkwardness of their sort of history, I mean.

I miss the good old days when Nini was a nice person... I mean, we kind of (really) had a glimpse of that in 2x11 (I'm guessing she was making up for Miss Jenn's very inappropriate slip-up), but I miss the days before she was this big internet-famous songwriter and actually had to be convinced by Ashlyn that she should write songs for herself... wait, now that I think of it... Ashlyn might have helped create a monster there. Oh well. Still love her so much!

You know, I love the Choosical, but it's all a bit sad, if you stop to think about it for a sec. Just picture little single-digit-aged Carlito making this whole thing up in an attempt to participate in his favourite thing... only to not have anyone to play with for the next ten years. Great, I just made myself cry. The thing is, I relate to that story a bit too much. I remember in preschool, when the rest of the children would play together, I'd sit in a corner by myself and read the only book that was there... over and over, day after day. I don't even remember a single thing about that little book right now, but back then I clung to it like it was everything. And I couldn't very much share the experience with any of my peers, seeing as I was the only kid there who could actually read (my grandma used to be a preschool teacher and she taught me to read when I was 4). So yeah. I went off on a rather personal tangent there. Thing is, I know how little Carlos felt and I'm so happy that he finally gets to share this thing he made with a loving and supportive group of friends. Everything has its time and place, I guess.

'Look, I'm not following Big Red just because he paid me a compliment' — of course not, dear, you know your own worth and we love that for you — but see, when he said that thing that you're referring to as a compliment, he did not lie! You really are the brightest star and deserve the brightest spotlight. See, the thing I love most about Redlyn's compliments to each other is that they're so sincere and state nothing but the absolute truth. Those two just see each other for what they are, and love each other as they are. And I think that is beautiful.

It's so funny to me every time someone gets something wrong and Carlos just walks past them out of nowhere and corrects them without missing a beat. I kind of relate to that side of him, too. Except it's usually about grammar and language in my case, not HSM trivia.

If I were Nini in this scene, and was suddenly put face to face with Emily on the spot like that, I would not have been able to handle it. So props to Nini for handling it.

Yeah, sorry to break it to you, Emily dear, but whatever you're doing is not a Cockney accent. I don't claim to be an accent expert, but I know first-hand what Cockney sounds like and... that's just not it. Even Dick Van Dyke was closer to a Cockney accent in Mary Poppins, and that's saying something. (See, I feel bad criticising any aspect of Emily because her actress is no longer with us, but... I have no idea who let them get away with passing this off as Cockney).

Is this the beginning of Jennzara there? I am loving this.

Of course Carlos was obsessed with Glee as a kid... but wasn't he a bit too young for it when it aired? I know I was, and I'm older than those kids. I mean, I waited until I was emotionally mature enough to watch Glee, and that wasn't until 3 years ago, when I was 18 going on 19. Ok, I'm thinking too much into this. Moving on.

Ahhhhh, Redlyn! Just... all of their moments. But screaming the lyrics of What I've Been Looking For on top of their lungs while looking right at each other... was so beautiful to watch. Give me more of that!

EJ: 'That was terrible.' Seb: 'I'm so happy!' — Moods, both of them. Those two are real-life emojis, aren't they? And we love them for that.

'... without laughing... or killing each other.' — I feel like that last specification was needed given that it's Ricky and EJ we're talking about, and especially what happened last time they had to do a one-on-one exercise during rehearsal. The ensuing scene, however, is the most hilarious thing!

Root beer, huh? Is that the HSMTMTS code for 'awkward' now? I mean, Nini and Gina had a nice talk there, all things considered. I really want the two of them to put the Ricky thing past them and be friends... but we'll see.

Gina is trying to make the sleepover thing look like 'it's not a big deal' despite how big of a deal it obviously is to her... to which I say, good for you, girl, but I wouldn't know. The only sleepovers I've ever had have been with my little cousin who is 9 years younger than me and also insists on sleeping with a very bright nightlight on, which means I can't sleep at all. So yeah, I wouldn't know. But I'm happy that Gina is feeling included.

So this is the exact moment when it becomes clear that Big Red is not telling us the complete truth when it comes to his HSM knowledge... '14 and 10'? Even I didn't know that. I knew 14, but... for someone who allegedly 'hates musicals', my boy has very detailed knowledge of one certain musical movie... I love how it got him a certain girl's attention, though. Not that she wasn't already paying attention to him, if you catch my drift.

Ok, but this hits even harder now than it did the first time — just when Gina has finally managed to make friends, to feel included in their group, her mum has to move her away again. This is straight-up tragic. I'll say it now, and I'll probably say it again when it comes up in the rewatch — Ashlyn is an absolute queen for taking Gina in for the next semester.

'That's sort of what you always do, huh? Take care of everyone else' — yeah, Ash, and you do the same. You two just need someone to do for you what you do for other people. See, guys, this is what I mean. This is why they're soulmates. Because in a world that has more or less forced both of them to put others first, they put each other first. They each get to be the most important person to each other after they've been stepping back for others all the time. And if that isn't beautiful, I don't know what is. I know I'm repeating myself over and over saying this, but... they own my heart and soul and I'm not for sale.

Ok, but Ashlyn's little run after Big Red left was so cute! Girl is... I don't know why I keep using that word, but... falling.

Unpopular opinion: Out of the Old is the best Nini solo to come out of this series to date. Maybe I feel that way just because I relate to it most, but hey, that is a valid reason to like something.

Oof, EJ's losing followers. Oh well, if they're unfollowing him for being too honest, they didn't like the real him to begin with. So good riddance to them.

Yikes... Jennzara fell asleep with flammable stuff left unattended... we all know how that ended, but just the fact that they felt comfortable enough to fall asleep in each other's presence... speaks volumes. So I guess... well, I don't know what exactly I'm saying regarding the fire they caused, but I loved this big little moment they had.

So this is it. That was 1x6 and 7 and, well, they were beautiful, but there are some parts I can't look at in the same way anymore after 2x11. Guess that's the risk of a rewatch. The Redlyn scenes, though — still the best part of both of these episodes. That and a couple of other things for which I don't need to pretend like I haven't seen season 2.

#hsmtmts #hsmtmts: the rewatch #ricky bowen #nini salazar-roberts #gina porter #ej caswell #ashlyn moon caswell #big red redonovich #carlos rodriguez #seb matthew-smith #kourtney greene #hsmtmts miss jenn #hsmtmts mr mazzara #redlyn #jnk

[luviedovey]

the you i fell in love with

connor murphy x female!reader

a/n: not me writing a fic about mike faist’s connor murphy 2 years after he left the show...... also Connor is probably ooc 

summary: you were Connor’s girlfriend who lived in the next town over, a little over a half hour away. his family didn’t know about you, no one did. he didn’t want his family or anyone he knew to scare you away. in the end, it didn’t really matter. he was gone. when the Connor Project came to be and Evan resigned from being co-president, you ran into him. you questioned him about his “friendship” with Connor and he told you everything.

set after the Murphy’s find out the truth and before the Evan/Zoe reunion at the orchard.

second person pov

warning: a few swear words, also very brief mention of depression and taking your own life, and Larry Murphy kind of being a dick

word count: 5,573

______

“Who are you exactly?” Evan questioned the girl who pulled him off to the side of the supermarket where no one else was around. To say he was a little nervous would be an understatement, he was freaking out on the inside.

“I’m so sorry! I probably scared you half to death dragging you along like that.. I just have some questions for you, if you don’t mind answering..?” You smiled at him sheepishly. Something about your awkward smile eased his mind a bit, but not enough. “No, sorry my mom actually is waiting for me by the-” “It’s about Connor!” You interrupted, looking at him through sad, heartbroken eyes. “..Please. Evan Hansen. I know you weren’t really friends with him. I know you weren’t even secret friends with him.. Because if you were, I would’ve known.”

Evan looked around before looking back at you, confused. “Who are you?” He asked for the second time. “I’m- I was Connor’s girlfriend. Y/N L/N. I met him 2 years ago at the apple orchard you guys rebuilt?  We both went there because we thought that no one else would be there and that it would be the perfect place to escape. His family and classmates never knew about me because he-” you laugh slightly,” he was afraid they would take me away from him. Or that his family would fight in front of me and he’d lose his cool or that his sister would say nasty things about him to ‘spare me from being in a relationship with him’ or even that the bullies at his school would turn me against him even though he knew damn well I could never.” You stopped rambling and passed him a Polaroid picture of the two of you, sitting against the chain link fence that surrounded the old abandoned apple orchard. You were looking up at Connor with heart eyes as he smiled back down at you. A real smile. This was the real Connor Murphy.

Evan looked up from the picture at you, shocked before quickly returning it to you. “Oh my god... You must think I’m such a h- horrible person for doing all this and pretending to be best friends with your- your dead boyfriend- I’m so sorry for your loss by the way- and making up all these stories about things we never really did and starting a whole online campaign about-” “Evan!” He stopped ranting, breathing heavily. “Breathe, okay? In through your nose, out through your mouth. Relax.”

It was silent for a moment before Evan mumbled a quiet, “Thank you.”

You smiled knowingly. “Now. Mind telling me everything?”

The two of you sat in your old beat up truck, as Evan told you everything. And by everything i mean everything. He started from the very beginning, “My dad left when I was 7 so now it’s just me and my mom. She works all the time at the hospital to support us and to pay for her education- she’s studying to be a paralegal- and so I’m usually home alone. I have anxiety so I take medication and go to therapy where I have to write a letter to myself hyping myself up for the day and trying to be positive and stuff-” “’Dear Evan Hansen’...”

He looked up from his hands at you, “Yeah.. Connor had one of my letters when he- um.. he took it from me earlier that day..” “It was your therapy letter? Why did he take it from you?” “Oh! You see he didn’t actually know it was a letter to myself for therapy he just thought I was being creepy and writing about his sister in a letter to print it out where he would find it and freak out and explode or something- That wasn’t why though, I didn’t even know he was in the room with me, I thought I was alone. He signed my cast before he read my letter, though. He said, ‘Now we both can pretend we have friends.’ Which is why I thought doing what I did would be okay but it wasn’t and it never will be and I really shouldn’t justify my actions because it was-” “Evan breathe.” “Right, sorry.” “Don’t apologize, it’s okay.” “Okay sor-” You gave him a pointed look.

“O-okay...” You giggled slightly, looking out of the window at the supermarket parking lot, “So.. he ran out with your letter, pissed because he thought you were fucking with him... And then he killed himself.” “Yeah.”

“So what happened after that?” “The Murphy’s showed up in the principal’s office three days later. I knew something was wrong because Connor and Zoe both weren’t in school and I know Connor skips but it’s not likely that they would both be out on the same days. Zoe doesn’t really skip school- she’s not that kind of person.” You nodded, gesturing to get to the point. “Right, they called me into the office because Connor had my letter and my name was on it so they thought the letter was for me. I tried to tell them it wasn’t- that I was the one who wrote it, but they were in denial. They kept reading parts of my letter back to me from memory, trying to make sense of it but I couldn’t tell them- I couldn’t get through to them....” He sighed.

“They invited me over to dinner and I went because I wanted to set the record straight but when I got there, they wanted to hear everything I knew about Connor. But I didn’t know anything, so whenever they brought something up I just nodded and agreed. Zoe was getting suspicious so I started to make things up. ‘Connor loved to talk about how much he hated skiing.’ ‘Connor took us to A La Mode and we ate our ice cream in the apple orchard where we climbed trees and raced across the open fields.’ ‘We would quote songs by our favorite bands.’ ‘We’d tell jokes no one else would understand.’ All lies. And they believed them. They wanted me to keep talking, they needed me to. They were broken and I just wanted to help them. I told them that we were friends on the internet where we’d email each other to talk about our day and stuff. And Connor would use a secret email account because he knew his dad was checking his regular email, and he didn’t want anyone to know we were friends.... Now that I think about it, this kind of sounds like your story.” You laughed, lightening the mood, and nodded.

“You know, you really aren’t that far off from who Connor was, despite the fact that you were making it up as you went. He wasn’t the monster that everyone thought he was. I mean sure in 2nd grade he pushed over a printer because he had a little tantrum about being skipped for line leader, but what kid doesn’t have a tantrum at least once in their life? It definitely didn’t help that all those kids grew up, making the story sound worse than it really was. He was always angry and stand-offish because everyone in his life would say shit about him that wasn’t true or be nice to him to get close enough to learn something new about him and then turn around and make fun of him for it. He was battling depression and needed help but his family didn’t want to believe there was anything actually wrong with him. I was the only one to believe him. To believe in him. But I’m just one person, and I guess that wasn’t enough..” You trailed off. Evan awkwardly put a hand on your shoulder, rubbing it with his thumb as a way to console you.

It was silent for a moment. “I think he would’ve liked you. It would’ve taken him a while to warm up to you, but I really do think the two of you could’ve been friends.” Evan smiled slightly, before frowning. “I pretended to be his friend for so long, but Alana- she’s the co-president of the Connor Project- started getting suspicious about our friendship, saying that the letters didn’t make sense because it sounded like Connor was getting better so I showed her Connor’s ‘suicide note’-” “Dear Evan Hansen, It turns out this wasn’t an amazing day after all. This isn’t going to be an amazing week or an amazing year. Because, why would it be?”

“...Yeah. She believed me too. I told her not to show anyone because it was a really private thing, but she just said that was exactly what people needed to see. She posted it and people on the internet started to attack the Murphy’s, saying things like ‘They’re a rich family who couldn’t bother to pay for their son to get help?’ and ‘I’m not saying to do anything illegal but their house is the pale yellow house at the end of the cul de sac with a red door.’” Your hand flew to your mouth in shock. “They even leaked Zoe’s phone number and their house phone! Everything was just spiraling out of control and I didn’t know what to do. I panicked and the only thing I could think of to do was just.. them the truth. So I did and I told them everything. I wrote the letter, Connor took it from me, we weren’t really friends, and it was all a lie. I haven’t spoken to the Murphy’s since.” He fiddled with his hands in his lap and sighed. “And.. I’m scared. Scared that one day I’ll go to school and everyone will hate me or that the Murphy’s will ruin my life.. Not that I don’t deserve it, after what I did? I deserve worse.”

“Evan.. No one deserves that, especially not you. What you did wasn’t exactly the right thing to do but you had the best intentions.” He nodded silently, “What did you want to ask me earlier anyways?”

You turned, facing down at the wheel in front of you. “I wanted to ask you if you knew where he was buried.”, a tear slipped from your eye as you sighed, smiling sadly, “I didn’t exactly get to say goodbye..” “I could go with you if you’d like. To show you the way?”

“Thank you, Evan.”

___

During the ride to the cemetery, You and Evan talked, trying to lighten the mood, and quickly became best friends. The two of you didn't have so much in common but you were both very comfortable and supportive of each other. You were like the siblings neither of you had.

The two of you stepped out of the truck, and begun walking to Connor’s grave. “Oh! Hold on..” You turn back, grabbing a beautiful bouquet of red roses and pink tulips, with a small white card that said, “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you enough when you needed it, Connor. I will never forget you, mon amour. I love you, always.” Connor didn’t have a specific favorite flower but he did appreciate their meanings. Roses represent love, and tulips represent a declaration of love. You hoped that even though he was gone he would still appreciate the thought you put into it.

The two of you walked up to his grave. It was at this moment when it hit you that he was really gone forever. You dropped to your knees, carefully placing down the flowers. Tears streaming as you silently sobbed, Evan’s hand on your left shoulder and the ghost of Connor’s hand on your right.

“I’m sorry, Connor. I love you more than you’ll ever know..”

The two of you sat there in silence for a while, before agreeing to leave in case the Murphy’s decided to visit. Neither of you really wanted to run into them and have to explain who you were and why you were there. “Do you want to come over to my house? You look emotionally exhausted.” You laughed and nodded, starting up the car.

___

“Why didn’t you come to town sooner?” You sighed, “I just.. I didn’t want to believe that he was really gone, you know? And coming here, seeing his grave, and his grieving family just confirmed what I prayed wasn’t true.” You sipped on the hot chocolate in your hands, staring out of the window at the pouring rain and cloudy night sky. “Have you met them yet?” Evan mumbled, typing on his laptop on the couch beside you. He pulled up the Connor Project and read about all the many different things Alana was doing. “No.. But I feel like I should? Like I know things about Connor that would give them closure but I can’t bring myself to go over and talk to them.”

“If only there was a way for you to show them what Connor was really like so you wouldn’t have to talk to them...” It was silent for a moment, “Actually... Connor and I used to write each other handwritten letters and take a lot of pictures together..” “Well what are the odds..” he giggled, “Maybe you could give those to them? The ones that aren’t super personal?” You sat together deeply in thought.

“But I can’t exactly bring myself to just give them away... Maybe I could copy them and white out all the personal stuff? Like the things between me and Connor only, and my face and name?” Evan nodded, agreeing that that would be the best option. You’d create a box filled with things Connor wrote and pictures of when he was truly happy, then leave it on the Murphy’s doorstep. It was a safe, no-contact interaction.

___

The next night, you went over to Evan’s house with the box labeled “The Real Connor Murphy. (i’m so sorry for your loss.. i thought maybe you would like to have these to know who he really was.)” Evan gave you directions to the Murphy household. Eventually, you parked in front of the pale yellow house, all three cars were in the driveway. “You better be quick if you don’t want anyone to see you.. Just.. keep the car running, drop off the box, ring the doorbell, and book it back here and drive off. Don’t turn back.” “Okay super spy.” You laughed nervously.

You walked up to the door, placing the box neatly on the ground with a single rose and tulip tapped on the top, rang the doorbell, and ran off. You jumped into the car and drove off just as Evan, who was previously hiding away from the car window, saw the red front door begin to open.

___

“Larry!” Cynthia Murphy exclaimed, picking up the box from the front porch to the dinner table, placing it beside the small card they had found on a mysterious bouquet of flowers they found the day before against Connor’s gravestone. “What is that?” He asked, looking at it with disinterest. “I found it on the porch, it says ‘The Real Connor Murphy. I’m so sorry for your loss.. I thought maybe you would like to have these to know who he really was.’ It’s in the same handwriting as the note we found on that bouquet of flowers. It even has the same two flowers! It has to be the same person. Someone who really loved him...” “What’s inside?” Zoe asked while reading and rereading the small card.

Cynthia opened the box to find handwritten letters from Connor and a mystery girl, photos of Connor laughing, smiling, pouting, hugging and kissing someone with a scratched out face. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes. This was the real Connor, a whole different version of him that the three were completely unaware of. Seeing him like this was just so unfamiliar to them, they couldn’t believe their eyes for a moment. Zoe picked up a letter, reading it aloud,

“Dear Y/N

Things haven’t been going so well lately, my parents are always fighting, my mom pretends like there’s nothing wrong, my dad doesn’t pay attention to anyone but himself anymore, and Zoe hates me.

Not that I blame her, I hate myself too. But I don’t hate myself when I’m around you. I’m so glad to have you around. You make life just a little easier every day.

It’s harder when you’re not around, I get angry easier when I get bullied at school or when Zoe says something awful about me. I just feel like I’m an airplane about to crash, but with you around I feel like I’m flying. Smooth sailing. Floating even. You are the most perfect girl I’ve ever met.

Thank you. I love you.

Sincerely, Con”

“He.. he had a girlfriend..?” She said, in shock. The three began to shuffle through the letters, photos, and little post-it notes, putting them in piles. “These are all copied..” “Maybe whoever left them didn’t want to give the originals away..?” “Maybe because she still cares about and loves him and didn’t want to give these away. They seem so.. personal.” Cynthia picked up a post-it note,

“Tu es belle Y/N, je t'adore.”

“What does that even mean?” Zoe pulled out her phone going straight to google translate, “It’s says ‘you are beautiful, i adore you.’.. I didn’t know Connor knew french.” “He never took a class for it. Maybe he learned it on his own?” Larry picked up a photo this time, Connor was standing in front of the apple orchard’s rotting old sign in the middle of the field, fake pouting and wearing a thin little flower crown you had made him. “I didn’t know Connor had any feelings other than anger.” Cynthia hit his arm. “Wait,” Zoe said, grabbing the attention of her bickering parents, “This letter has a picture and a post-it note attached to it.”

“Dear Con,

Thank you for the painting, it’s absolutely beautiful. You are so so talented. The way you put so much thought into every detail is truly admirable. You make everything you paint so exciting and captivating, even if the thing you’re painting isn’t very exciting at all. You see the beauty in the things that most people never give a second glance.

It kind of reminds me of the way I look at you.

To most people that don’t know you, you are a “freak” or “school shooter chic”. But, when I look at you, you are none of those things. You are beautiful, you are captivating, you are perfectly imperfect. You are worth it. Don’t give up on me darlin’.

I love you.

Sincerely, Y/N/N”

Attached to the letter was a photo of the painting mentioned. It was a painting of your beaten old navy blue truck parked beside a chain link fence that blocked it off from the open field. In the background, the sun was setting in a perfect blend of yellows, oranges, and reds. It was so detailed that if you weren’t already aware that it was a painting, you would’ve probably thought it was a photo taken from a fancy camera. “It really is beautiful..” Cynthia trailed off, wiping a stray tear that fell from her eye, “He was so talented. I didn’t even know he liked to paint! I mean I knew he took an art class but because he skipped school so much, I never even thought he went..”

“I guess we really didn’t know Connor at all..” Zoe begun to get angry, “What kind of family does that?! I mean we lived with him, I grew up with him, you two raised him, and we still didn’t even know who he was?! This.. this stranger even knew more about him than we did! Do you realize how sad this is? We have to learn about our dead family member from a complete stranger because when he was alive, we were too busy pretending like he was just acting out for attention instead of actually needing help! He needed help and we didn’t give it to him! It’s not like we couldn’t afford to take him to therapy! We just pretended like he was a monster and if we ignored him, he would stop..” She took a deep breath, “Maybe we were the monsters and his anger and tantrums were his cries for help...” “Zoe..” Cynthia reached for her arm but she pulled away, running up to her room while choking back tears. “..She’s right.”

The two were quiet for a long period of time, reading and rereading every letter and every note, memorizing every photo.

Cynthia held up a photo of Connor and a girl, whose face was completely scratched out, “Who are you..”

___

The next day was a particularly warm day so you and Evan drove over to A La Mode as a victory ice cream run of sorts. You really believed in treating yourself after small, seemingly insignificant, victories such as dropping off a box of precious letters to a grieving family. They needed closure, and you were willing to give it them. Evan, despite talking about A La Mode with the Murphy’s before, had never actually been. You two talked and ate your ice cream sitting in the back of your truck, looking out at the orchard across the street. The orchard was renamed the “Connor Murphy Memorial Orchard”, which made your heart a little heavy. Another reminder that he was really gone.

In the distance, on the other side of the fence sat the Murphy’s who were packing up from their weekly picnic. As they got up to walk out of the orchard, Zoe looked across the street. “Wait a minute..” Her parents stopped walking. “What is it Zoe?” Larry asked. She pointed at the car parked across the street, “Isn’t that the car that Connor painted his girlfriend in that letter? And Evan?” They looked across the street to find the same navy blue truck and a familiar face.

Evan paled, “The Murphy’s are looking at us!” he whisper-shouted. You began to turn around, but Evan stopped you. “No don’t look!” Your head whipped back to him as your face paled, “They recognized my car..” “How could they? It was night time when you dropped off the box and the door barely begun to open as you drove away..”

You smiled sheepishly, “I may or may not have given them a picture of a painting Connor made me of my truck parked beside that exact fence...” Evan facepalmed and gave you a deadpanned look. “Well they’re starting to walk across the street now.”

You shot up, “Let’s go.” “I mean would it be so bad to meet his parents?” Evan asked as the two of you scrambled into the front seats. “I’m just.. I’m not ready to have that conversation just yet.” You reversed out of the parking spot and drove back onto the road.

“Wait!” The Murphy’s shouted to the car as it begun to drive off. “There was a girl driving. Maybe that was her?” Cynthia asked, hopefulness clear in her voice. “She was with Evan, do you think the box of letters were fake?” Larry, always the optimist. “They couldn’t be, they were handwritten in Connor’s handwriting. Even the french notes.”

Zoe thought for a moment, “Well if we’re going to find her, we should probably start with Evan’s place first.” “Who said we were going to look for her?” Larry asked, “I’m not wasting my time on a wild goose chase. She’s already shown us enough about Connor.”

Cynthia turned to her husband, “How could you say that? She could be the one thing to bring us closer to our son. Our son who took his own life because he felt that that was the only path left for him. And you don’t want to try to find her? Find closure? Honestly Larry, what is wrong with you lately!” “I’m sorry. We’ll find her.”

___

The Murphy’s found themselves at the Hansen household. They knew you were there. After all, your truck was parked in the driveway. Inside were you, Heidi, and Evan. You had just met Heidi, but she loved you. She was thrilled to find that Evan had made a friend like you. You hung out with Evan even after learning he lied about being friends with your recently deceased boyfriend, and helped him when he started to rant and breathe heavy about it. You were so kind-hearted, forgiving, and calm by nature, that he was finally comfortable around someone. You were quickly best friends.

A knock at the door startled the three of you. “Are you guys expecting anyone?”, Heidi stood up to get the door as you and Evan turned to each other. He placed a hand on your shoulder to comfort you. “I suppose now’s a good time as ever, even though I really only had 24 hours to prepare myself..” You muttered, the two of you walking towards the front door.

The Murphy’s stopped and stared at you. “Are you.. Were you Connor’s girlfriend?” Cynthia asked. You nodded slightly, rubbing your arm as a nervous habit. “I’m Cynthia, this is Larry and Zoe.. We’re Connor’s family.” “I know.”

Heidi invited them in, everyone heading to the living room. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.. We just wanted to thank you for all the letters and photos of Connor. It feels like we’re finally getting to know who he really was on the inside.” You looked up from your lap, “No offense ma’am, but shouldn’t you have gotten to know your own son when he was still around?”

Zoe laughed, awkward and uncomfortable. “I really don’t think that’s funny.. especially considering you didn’t bother to get to know him either.” You said getting defensive, sticking up for Connor. Even if he was gone, you would never stop fighting for him. You did truly love him after all. “And before you say ‘Connor wasn’t easy to talk to. He would always yell and storm off.’, just think about the fact that having a relationship with someone is a two way street. You can’t expect someone to make an effort if you don’t try to do the same.”

The three looked at her in shock. Heidi and Evan smiling sheepishly in the background. “I..”, Larry started, but trailed off, not being able to come up with a proper response. Cynthia and Zoe looked deep in thought, unable to do the same.

It was quiet for a long amount of time.

“You’re right. You’re right and I wish it wasn’t true, but it is. And the only thing we could do now is learn from our mistakes. We don’t exactly know how we’re going to do that but we’re willing to try. And we’re hoping that you could help us? Help us figure out what to do and help us learn about who Connor was?” Zoe finally spoke up, her parents nodding along in agreement.

You were trying to heal from everything that happened and them putting all their hope on you wasn’t really helping. But maybe grieving together would allow everyone to heal and remember him in a more positive way? At least you hoped.

There’s a lot of hope pinned on others here.

“I suppose helping you all would let us heal.. together?” You said, slightly questioning your own words, turning toward Evan. He shrugged, giving you a thumbs-up. “But I don’t feel comfortable talking about Connor unless Evan is around.” You paused, “It’d be nice to have a familiar face around and we’re practically best friends now.. so..” “Yes of course.” The three stood up, walking to the front door, “We’ll come back here at 11AM tomorrow and drive to the orchard for a picnic if that’s alright with the two of you?” You and Evan nodded simultaneously. “Are you allergic to anything dear?”

With the shake of your head and a quick goodbye from Evan and Heidi, the Murphy’s were off.

“Am I doing the right thing here? Connor didn’t even want his family to known I existed! And now we’re going on a picnic with them? Where I have to talk about him?” You sat down, head in your hands as a headache begun to grow. Heidi placed her hand on your shoulder gently, “It’s going to be tough right now, and it’s going to be emotionally draining, I’m sure. But, if you really think that they deserve to know who he really was, that how they perceive him is wrong, then I think you are doing the right thing. You’re helping them, you’re helping yourself, and you’re helping Connor. You did say that he wanted to change the way people saw him. And you’d be doing that for him, even if he’s not physically around to see it happen.”

“Thank you, Heidi.”

___

“It’s really nice of you to agree to meet us here, Y/N. And Evan, it’s nice to have you here too.” Cynthia smiled, putting down a blanket for the picnic. Everyone sat down in an awkward silence.

“So... is.. is there anything you wanted to know that wasn’t already in the letters?” You asked, picking at the blades of grass beside you. Evan slapped your hand away from the grass, silently scolding you in true forest ranger fashion for messing with nature. The Murphy’s turned to each other, silently debating what to say and who would say it. No surprise to you and Evan that the one to speak up was Cynthia. The past couple of hours really showed that she was the only one who seemed to care, at least a little bit, about Connor when he was around, though Zoe and Larry were trying their best now.

“Why didn’t Connor bring you around to meet the family? It really seemed like you brought so much light to his life. I mean, you brought out parts of him that we didn’t even know existed!” “We thought he was a monster...” Zoe muttered sadly.

Your heart ached for this family, they really knew nothing about him.. “Connor didn’t bring me around because he was afraid you’d all ‘scare me off’,” you laughed slightly, “And Connor may have been a monster to you, but the real Connor was never a monster, to me or to anyone in my small town. In the next town over, no one knew who Connor was or what he’d done in the past. It was like a fresh start. Which I knew he desperately needed. I mean, with all the people bullying him, hurting him physically or emotionally or both, and spreading fake rumors about him since he was in the second grade? He was angry and hurting and he didn’t know how to deal with it, so he would lash out. But wouldn’t you react the same way? Build up walls so people wouldn’t hurt you? Isolate yourself so people couldn’t get close enough to?”

It went silent again, the only sound was the wind blowing in the summer breeze and the trees rustling in the background.

“She’s right.”

Everyone looked up, faces showing some form of shock. Larry continued, “All that stuff was going on in school and we made it worse for him at home. He asked us for help and we always assumed he was doing for attention. No matter how hard we tried to be a perfect family, we never were and we probably never will be.”

Zoe wiped away a stray tear. “Even though you couldn’t save your kid, maybe there’s a way you could save someone else’s?” He turned to you with a questioning glance. “I mean you have to admit, you’re a pretty wealthy family, maybe you can spend some time donating to suicide prevention hotlines and foundations that were created specifically to help those who are suffering from depression and suicidal thoughts like Connor was? I know for a fact that Connor hated the way that he felt, and would never want anyone to go through what he’d been going through, no matter how much of an asshole they were.”

Cynthia reached over to you, placing a hand on your knee, smiling as tears fell freely from her face, from all of their faces. “That’s a brilliant idea, Y/N.”

___

The picnic went on as you told them stories of your’s and Connor’s adventures together. Jumping over the fence to lay around in the yellow fields of the old orchard, helping your mom arrange flowers in her flower shop (he would always make sure his bouquets were well thought out in their meaning), buying junk food and snacks when having movie marathons on a Saturday night, sketching and painting moments together so you two would never forget them.

With each little story, his family knew more about him and you felt as close to him as you had been before that heart-wrenching summer day. 

You fell behind from the group as you all walked out of the orchard. Turning back and taking one last look at the entrance, the fields, and the growing trees of the Connor Murphy Memorial Orchard, you notice a figure dressed in black standing with his back against the fence. He gave you a smile, a genuine yet sad smile, mouthing the words “thank you” and “i love you”, before disappearing in the wind.

#connor murphy #connor murphy x reader #deh #dear evan hansen #mike faist #broadway #dear evan hansen x reader

[fandomsalive]

Guide Me Home

Guide Me Home | Reddie | Teen and Up | 21,365 words

Summary: “I am here to offer you a choice,” Maturin explains patiently, finally seeming to answer Eddie’s questions. “You can move on from this world,” he says, and a plain wooden door appears, suddenly, out of nowhere, to the left of Eddie. It’s not close to him. It’s close enough that Eddie can see clearly what it is, but far enough that Eddie know’s he’d have to make the conscious decision to walk all the way to it. “Or I can take you back,” Maturin says, and another door appears to the right of Eddie, just as far as the first, but in a bright, gleaming gold this time.

For a second, Eddie doesn’t breathe. The choice seems so simple, so obvious. Of course he wants to go back! He’s only forty years old, he has a whole life ahead of him! He’s only just got the Losers back, and they killed that fucking clown! There’s nothing left to hold him back! He has a life in New York to get back to, a wife and —

A wife and…

A wife and nothing else but lies lies lies.

**

This has been such a journey to write! I don't remember how long I've been working on it, but it's been at least a few months because I just wanted to get it right. My first rough draft was only 11,500 words, and it quite literally doubled in size and I can't believe it! Here it is, finally, and I am so excited to share it! I hope that you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Thanks as always to my best friend and beta @imnotinclinedtomaturity.

Ao3 Link

**

After the world goes dark, Eddie doesn’t expect to open his eyes ever again — it’s therefore a surprise to him when he does.

As his eyes flutter open, he notices immediately that the heavy feeling pressing on his chest, the one that had been making it difficult for him to breathe, is gone. The realization is enough to cause him to inhale deeply, if for no other reason than he can. The feeling of his lungs inflating without any discomfort or pain is a relief, and Eddie lets the breath back out again slowly.

He realizes as he does so that he allowed his eyes to drift shut again, and he opens them slowly.

The world around him is white, nothing but white in every direction. He’s laying down on something, and as Eddie looks down, he realizes it’s a bed — well, a cot, more specifically. The kind you find in a hospital. For a moment, Eddie actually believes that he is in a hospital, but then he looks up again and realizes that he can’t be, because there’s nothing else here.

His brow furrows in confusion as he sits up slowly, wincing reflexively as he does, only — there is no pain. He looks down cautiously and moves his hands to his abdomen where, what felt like moments ago, there had been a huge gaping hole ripped straight through him.

There’s nothing there, now. He’s completely whole, as if the fight with It never happened.

A sense of foreboding starts to clog Eddie’s throat, and he stares wide-eyed at the sheer whiteness around him as he pushes himself free from the bed. At his sides, his fingers curl into fists, and he turns in quick, anxious circles as he searches for something, anything, in the vast nothingness that surrounds him.

Eddie can feel his heart starting to cramp with terror, a stutter caught in his chest, and aches for the inhaler he’d thrown into the fire what must have been at least an hour ago.

What the fuck is happening? he wonders anxiously. Where am I? Where the fuck is this place?

Wherever he is, it strikes fear into Eddie’s heart, and he wants nothing more than to get out. He’d never known what true silence was until now, and he can feel his skin prickling uncomfortably. The more he checks out his surroundings, moving swift on shaky legs, the more it becomes clear that there is nothing else here, and the sheer force of the vast emptiness nearly knocks Eddie flat on his ass with terror.

It’s just as the panic is truly beginning to set in that Eddie hears a voice.

“You’ve been asleep a long time,” it says, echoing all around him. Startled, Eddie jumps in place, and immediately raises his hands defensively.

“Who’s there?” he demands, glaring into the vast nothingness. He cranes his neck to look above him, the only place he hasn’t looked, but finds nothing.

Oh god, oh fuck, oh shit, he thinks, twisting his body around again to check behind him, and then again to make sure nothing has appeared in the short moment he wasn’t looking.

As tends to happen when Eddie doesn’t know what to do, he gets angry. “Hey!” he shouts, when the person still hasn’t answered him. “Answer me you fucking asshole!” he adds rashly, shuffling backwards, towards the hospital bed.

His hands are shaking.

“Eddie Kaspbrak,” the voice replies, a calm, deep tenor. Eddie’s back locks up with rigid terror.

“How do you know my name?” he shouts defensively, eyes still darting around the bright nothingness he’s found himself in, even though he knows that it’s useless.

There’s nothing here.

“Who the fuck are you? Where are my friends?” he asks, voice quavering in the quiet, but there is no immediate response. Eddie is left, again, to his own thoughts and fears, and he scrambles at the back of his mind for some kind of memory that’ll tell him what the hell is going on. The last thing he remembers is Richie telling him he’ll be right back for him, and then —

Well… dying.

Oh god, he moans inside his own head, and lets out a whimper into the quiet air. What happened to Richie? What happened to Bill? And Ben, and Bev, and Mike… Are they dead? Is he dead? What the hell is going on? he asks himself.

“I know all of you,” the voice says, calm, and Eddie jumps, pulled abruptly out of his panicked spiral of thoughts, only to be launched into a brand new one.

Pennywise, he thinks, and trips backwards, until his back hits the hospital bed. True fear grips him hard, as he imagines what’s going to happen to him now. Pennywise has him trapped somewhere, maybe inside of his own goddamn mind, like he had Beverly twenty-seven years ago. Did he get caught in the deadlights? No, that was Richie, not him, and he’d thrown the spear straight into Pennywise’s throat, hadn’t he?

Fuck! Pennywise should have died, then! Eddie killed him, he killed that motherfucking clown, and now he’s back and he’s going to torture Eddie and —

Running on sheer adrenaline, Eddie shouts “I’ll fucking kill you, asshole, I swear to god! Don’t come near me or I swear I’m going to—” Eddie’s voice cracks as he fails to come up with a proper threat. He can feel his throat closing up as he waits for some kind of response, but it doesn’t come.

Eddie’s mind scrambles for answers, for any indication of what the hell might be going on. He doesn’t really remember what happened, his memories a tangled blur. He’d told Richie to go, hadn’t he? Before he… before he died, maybe. He told Richie to go, but why? Where had the others been, while Eddie was laying there bleeding to death on the cistern floor? Fuck, where had they been?

And then Eddie remembers — he remembers telling the others how to kill Pennywise. Make him small, he’d said, and all the others had run off into the main cavern to do just that. Eddie remembers hearing them shout insults at him, remembers telling Richie that the others needed him, that he needed to go, now.

They’d killed Pennywise. Surely they’d killed him?

“You’re dead!” Eddie screams when he finally manages to get his breath back again. “We fucking killed you!” he adds, desperate now. He can feel his legs give out on him at the same time as his ass hits the side of the bed, misses the landing, and hits the ground hard. Tears fill his eyes, half from pain, half from fear, and he glares up into the blank sky and screams, “We killed you!” around a sob stuck in his throat.

Oh god, he thinks, Oh god, we came back here and for what? he wonders, allowing the tears to overwhelm him. He shoves his face into his hands and just lets himself cry, shoulders shaking as he thinks of his friends. If he’s here, in whatever the fuck this place is, all alone, what happened to the rest of them? Are they somewhere here too, or maybe in their own nightmare of Pennywise’s devising? Eddie thinks of Richie, of one of the last things he’d said to him (“I fucked your mom.”) and wishes more than anything that he could change it.

Suddenly, just as Eddie’s tears are reaching a crescendo, a sense of calm settles down on his shoulders and floods through his veins. Eddie shudders at the touch, hiccuping over another broken sob, and raises his head to stare up into the sky.

“What—” he tries, voice cracking. “What are you doing to me?” he tries again, this time managing to shape the words with his tongue. The calmness settles deeper inside of him, and then an all-consuming knowing settles into his soul.

“He is dead,” the voice promises, obviously referring to Pennywise. The tone is soothing this time, grandfatherly, deep, and even before the voice speaks, Eddie knows what it's going to say.

Pennywise is dead. He’s really dead. He can’t hurt Eddie anymore.

The knowledge sits there in Eddie’s mind for a long moment, seeping into him. He feels his limbs relax as he lets it in, and closes his eyes. His lips are still parted on half-spoken words, but after a moment, they drift shut too.

Pennywise is dead. He’s dead.

Eddie shudders at the thought, and finally opens his eyes. He stares dumbly at nothing. “Okay,” he mutters to himself, “Okay.” He just needs to sit with that for a minute. He knows somehow that it’s true, and sure this could all be some crazy, made-up mind game that Pennywise is playing on him, but it doesn’t feel like it is. Pennywise had always felt like madness, but this voice? It feels like benevolence.

Inhaling deeply, Eddie lets out a slow breath before managing to compose himself.

“Who are you?” Eddie asks again, quieter this time. His voice is shaking, and his ass hurts from falling so hard, but the fear feels farther away, now, just out of reach, like the voice is blocking him from feeling anything but calm.

“Maturin,” answers the voice finally.

Eddie nods his head. Maturin. Okay. Sure. Maturin. Whatever that means.

Before Eddie can ask another question, however, an image floats through his mind of a large turtle swimming through the stars in the sky, galaxies and nebula rushing by. On its back sits world, after world, after world — and then it's gone.

Eddie blinks, shocked. He doesn’t know how Maturin did that, put that image in his head, and while it’s a more thorough answer than Eddie could have asked for, it’s still vaguely horrifying to have something shoved into his mind like that. He shakes it off as best he can, and considers it.

“Uhm, so are you like… a god?” he asks disbelievingly. Eddie’s never really believed in god, but if he’s being honest with himself, after what he’d seen down there in the cistern, after what he’d seen when he was thirteen, it wouldn’t much surprise him.

“I am a guardian,” Maturin explains simply but dismissively, to the point where Eddie feels like he shouldn’t pry further. It sounds almost like Maturin wouldn’t tell him even if he asked, like a disgruntled adult who doesn’t feel the information is relevant.

Without missing a beat, Maturin repeats, “It is dead,” and another wave of knowing overwhelms Eddie.

It is dead. Pennywise is dead.

Right. Eddie understands. Pennywise is dead, but… “What happened to the others?” he asks. Some of the forced calm that had been holding his emotions hostage seems to drain out of him, a little at a time, and Eddie finds himself able to worry again.

It’s a question Eddie needs an answer to, and yet an answer that Eddie dreads.

“They are safe,” Maturin assures him.

Eddie’s shoulders sag in relief, and he nods mindlessly at the news, his head spinning. Fuck, they’re safe. Thank god they’re safe. Eddie doesn’t know what he would have done if anything had happened to them. Not after everything they’d done.

And Richie. Eddie doesn’t know what he would have done if something had happened to Richie, especially not after Eddie had done everything he could to save Richie from the deadlights.

But what about Eddie? Is he dead? Where is he? Why is he here?

“And…” Eddie hesitates, after a moment. “And me?” he asks a little breathlessly, nervous for the answer.

He expects a sense of sadness to imbue him the same way Maturin had made him feel calm, like Maturin’s feelings had been covering Eddie’s, but it doesn’t happen. Instead, Maturin simply repeats, “You have been asleep for a long time.”

Eddie immediately feels frustrated by the answer, and he glares up at the nothing above him furiously.

“You already said that!” he snaps, annoyed again. His anxiety over his own death is bad enough without Maturin acting all fucking mysterious about it. He just wants a straight fucking answer, is that too much to ask? “What the fuck does that even mean? And where am I? What am I doing here?” he demands, questions quickfire in the still air. His chest heaves with the ache of asking them, and he has to force his mouth shut before he can ask anything else, afraid, already, to know the answer to these.

“Eddie Kaspbrak,” Maturin replies, voice gentle but stern, “I try to help where I can,” he explains ambiguously. Eddie feels his hands curl into fists at his sides again, ready to angrily snap what the fuck does that mean, but Maturin doesn’t give him the chance, instead continuing, “You are between life and death. Your life hangs in the balance…”

Through the white nothingness comes an image, pressed to the center of Eddie’s eye. He can see himself, clothed in a blue hospital gown, face paler than the sheets and so fucking bloodless Eddie is shocked to witness his chest move with each breath. He can hear the beep of machines, and a soft, blurred sound in the background, as if someone is speaking. It’s a voice that Eddie thinks he recognizes, and then it’s gone.

Eddie blinks the image out of his eye, and stares, shocked.

“I am here to offer you a choice,” Maturin explains patiently, finally seeming to answer Eddie’s questions. “You can move on from this world,” he says, and a plain wooden door appears, suddenly, out of nowhere, to the left of Eddie. It’s not close to him. It’s close enough that Eddie can see clearly what it is, but far enough that Eddie know’s he’d have to make the conscious decision to walk all the way to it. “Or I can take you back,” Maturin says, and another door appears to the right of Eddie, just as far as the first, but in a bright, gleaming gold this time.

For a second, Eddie doesn’t breathe. The choice seems so simple, so obvious. Of course he wants to go back! He’s only forty years old, he has a whole life ahead of him! He’s only just got the Losers back, and they killed that fucking clown! There’s nothing left to hold him back! He has a life in New York to get back to, a wife and —

A wife and…

A wife and nothing else but lies lies lies. Slowly, the same thoughts that had been going through Eddie’s mind since before they’d descended into Its lair drift back through his mind. He hadn’t wanted to die, but… he’d been so sure that he would. He’d wanted nothing more than to go home, but to what? The same thing he’d left twenty-two years ago, when he’d stepped foot out of his mother’s house for what he thought would be the last time, and walked right back into two months later?

Everything that he’d learned with the Loser’s that summer — the manipulation, the placebos, the realization that he was brave — had disappeared within two months of leaving Derry, and Eddie had found himself right back on his mother’s doorstep.

He never really left it again. Myra was everything his mother had been, and he’d gone right ahead and married her anyway. His life was a constant refrain of fear and illness and you’re too weak, Eddie bear, you need me, let me take care of you. When he’d packed his bag to come out here to Derry, he’d filled almost an entire suitcase with medications that Eddie didn’t even need, and it had only taken a few hours for Eddie to remember that he wasn’t sick, that he’d never been sick, and yet back in the cistern, he’d still used his inhaler as if it weren’t filled with camphor water and… and… what did Eddie really have to go back to?

He was stuck in a dead-end, boring job that he’d held for fifteen years, even though he hated it. He was a senior risk analyst with no hope of going anywhere else, making more money than he needed for a man who never spent a dime on himself outside of doctor's visits he didn’t need and medication that did nothing for him. His marriage had been dead in the water from the moment he’d said I do — probably even before that, if he’s being honest — and he and Myra both knew it.

He didn’t really have anything to go back to. He didn’t have a life, not really. He’d been living a goddamn nightmare for twenty-two years, and he couldn’t even begin to fathom how to make a change big enough to make a difference.

He did have the Loser’s now, though. Surely they would be there to help him? But they also had lives of their own to get back, and Eddie couldn’t imagine any of them could have also fucked their lives up so bad that they wouldn’t want to go back to them. Maybe Bev, because she had always been in the same boat as Eddie in some way, with a parent who hurt them in different but fundamentally similar ways. But Bev would have Ben, and would Eddie have anybody, really? Would any of them really want to put up with all of the bullshit that had eroded Eddie away into a nervous wreck? He’d always been a hypochondriac, he knew that, but this was somehow different.

Would they even stay friends, after all of this? It had been twenty-two years for some of them, twenty-seven for even more of them. They didn’t know each other anymore. They might have acted like best friends back in the Jade of the Orient, but that was akin to a high school fucking reunion. You might stay in touch for a few weeks, maybe a few months, after seeing each other again, but eventually, it all faded away...

What if they forgot each other again? The very idea of it makes Eddie’s soul ache, and he gasps back a sob stuck in his throat. He squeezes his eyes shut in pain just remembering them. Remembering that summer, and the summers that came after as they each slowly started to drift away until there was no one but him, and Richie, and Mike… and then they were all gone. For twenty-two years, Eddie had forgotten the people who had meant the most to him, and the idea of getting them back, only to lose them again, is more than Eddie can take.

It takes a long moment, but eventually Eddie opens his eyes to stare up into the nothingness and blurts out, “I saved their lives, didn’t I?” He asks it like a question, but it’s not really a question at all. He says, “I saved Richie from the deadlights, and I told the others how to kill Pennywise, and I…” Eddie trails off, chest aching with the bone-deep knowledge that he has done so much more with his life in the past forty-eight hours than he has in twenty-two years.

Maturin says, “Yes.”

Eddie nods. He doesn’t have a reply for that. All he can think is, isn’t that enough?

Before he knows it, hot tears are streaming down his cheeks again, and Eddie reaches up in astonishment to wipe them away. He hadn’t even realized he’d begin to cry. His chest hurts so bad. Slowly, Eddie wraps his arms tight around himself and squeezes hard.

“Fuck,” he gasps and shakes his head. He can feel himself shaking, but it isn’t from the cold. Something like a burning pain rips through his heart when he thinks about dying, but more than anything he just wants to know — “Will they be okay?” he asks through shaking lips.

Maturin makes a deep noise that Eddie can’t begin to articulate, and then he says “Let me show you.”

For the third time, images ripple forward against Eddie’s eyes, until it’s all that he can see. He gasps, and he’s back in the blackness that was Its lair, a stark contrast to the white place he’d been in before. It’s too dark for him to see anything here. There are strong, warm arms wrapped around him, a desperate grip against his skin, and hot, warm tears soaking into his neck. He can hear screaming around him and the roar of a collapsing building.

“Come on Richie, we have to go!” someone is saying, but all Eddie can really hear is the desperate, wet gasping pressed into the column of his neck. “Let’s go man, let’s go!” another someone is saying — Ben, or Bill maybe…

“No,” Eddie hears Richie whimper against his ear, and, with a shock, Eddie realizes who it is that’s holding him. “No, no, no!” Richie screams, and there’s a grappling sensation, like Eddie’s body is being shoved around. Richie doesn’t let go of him, and then Eddie hears “We can still help him guys, we can still help him!” screamed in a desperate plea so heart-wrenching that Eddie can’t bear to hear it.

He gasps out a choked sob of his own, but it goes unnoticed in the flurry.

Someone pries Richie’s arms from him.

“No, please, let go of me!” Richie screams, scrabbling for Eddie, his fingertips grasping at the edges of Eddie’s jacket, and then slipping on through. “Please, no, we can still help him, we can help him!” Richie begs, and Eddie feels another sob wrench free of him. The sound turns into a gasp, and despite the fact that it’s a memory Maturin is showing him, the reaction seems to have happened in real time because Richie screams “He’s breathing! Guy’s he’s breathing, please, help me!”

There’s another desperate scramble, another scream, this time of pain, and then Richie’s holding him in his arms again. Eddie knows it’s Richie because of the shudder in his breathing, the tears dripping down onto Eddie’s face now, the way Richie’s hands are cupping his cheeks, searing in their warmth.

“Stay with me Eds,” he begs, gasping the words around broken sobs, “We’re going to get you out of here…”

“Richie, come on!” Someone yells — Mike?

“We have to get out of here!”

Eddie can hear it, the sounds of the cave falling apart around them. His heart drops to the pit of his stomach, and for a moment he wonders did we make it out alive until he remembers that Maturin had promised him yes, that Maturin had shown Eddie himself in a hospital bed.

“He’s alive, guys, help me!” Richie screams again, and finally, finally, more arms grab at his body. Eddie can feel it as someone grabs his legs, as Richie releases his face, and scrambles around to grip him under the arms, and lift him up. Eddie feels himself be cradled against Richie’s chest even as he grunts, even as he runs, and feels warm.

“Why did you show me that,” Eddie gasps as the images leave his mind. He can feel the tears dripping freely down his face now, and his heart hurts. He doesn’t understand. “I asked if they’d be okay, why did you show me that!?” he demands, letting out a harsh sob. His hands are trembling as he reaches up to dash the tears away, and he swallows thickly, glaring into the white nothing. “Why!?” he shouts, when he still hasn’t received an answer.

“To show you what you missed,” Maturin answers. Eddie expects him to sound remorseful, but he doesn’t.

“Well, I didn’t want to see them when it happened!” Eddie screams, clawing at his face in frustration. “I — I — I knew they’d — They’d be upset and they’d — They’d mourn me but —”

“Did you?” Maturin accuses, piercing Eddie straight through the heart in a place of deep, deep self-hatred that told Eddie that they might cry, but that they hadn’t known him long enough as an adult to really mourn him.

At that moment, he hates Maturin for understanding him so well.

“Show me something else,” he demands, shaking his head roughly, glaring into the nothingness. “Show me — you said I’ve been asleep for a long time. Show me how they are now. Show me how they’re doing now,” he begs, his breathing harsh and heavy as he attempts to pull himself together and stop crying.

He just wants to know that they’ll be okay. He just wants to know if he can move on without leaving something important behind.

Maturin says, “As you wish.”

Eddie feels his eye open to the images again, and shudders at the sensation. He feels rubbed raw, as an image solidifies around him. He’s in the hospital room again — he can tell from the mint walls and the beeping of a heart monitor. He isn’t looking down on his own face this time, but at the ceiling. As Eddie settles into the moment he realizes that this time, he can move his own gaze, as if he’s inhabiting his living body and borrowing it to take a peek into the real world. He’s certain that he’s not actually moving even as he turns his head and gazes at the man sitting beside him.

It’s Richie.

Maturin hadn’t told him how long he’d been sleeping — all he’d (rather unhelpfully) said was “a long time”. Eddie isn’t sure how long “a long time” is, but from the sound of it, it had been at least more than a few days. So why is Richie still at his bedside?

Richie… does not look good. He looks like he hasn’t shaved in a few days, a dark scruff dotted around his jawline, and his eyes have dark bags underneath them. He’s dressed in a clean t-shirt with a zip-up hoodie tight around his biceps and Eddie realizes — that’s one of his hoodies. One of the blue ones he’d packed into his bag before he’d come to Derry.

It doesn’t fit Richie very well, and Eddie can’t imagine how he’d gotten it other than Richie going through his luggage to find it. He’s not sure he can bear to consider why.

It looks good on him, despite the small size.

The heavy sensation of crying is still crowding against Eddie’s chest, and the sight of Richie in Eddie’s jacket makes it strangle him tighter. He has to swallow thickly to kick it back down, and even then only because he worries what’ll happen if he cries just then.

He can’t be certain, but when he’d sobbed during that memory of Eddie’s near-death, it had felt like Richie had heard it. He doesn’t want Richie to hear him cry again.

Instead, Eddie takes in the deep lines on Richie’s face, the obvious signs of pain and fatigue, and wishes that he could wipe them away.

“What are you still doing here?” a voice Eddie had almost forgotten about over these last couple of days says, cutting through the thick silence of the hospital room. Eddie only realizes that Richie is staring at Eddie’s face when Richie doesn’t look away to answer her.

“The same thing I do every day, Pinkie,” Richie says in a hollow tone. “Taking over the world.”

Myra doesn’t laugh, but Eddie wouldn’t have expected her to. She scoffs instead, clearly unimpressed with Richie’s sense of humor — not that Richie seems all that jazzed about it right now, either. Eddie doesn’t remember a time he’d heard Richie sound like this.

Eddie hears the sound of a chair being dragged closer to his bed, and turns his head to finally take in Myra. She looks as put together as she always does as she slips into a chair on the opposite side of Eddie from Richie. She’s done her hair and makeup, and in contrast to Richie, doesn’t look as if she’s lost a day of sleep.

“Well I don’t know why you keep coming back here,” Myra sneers, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder, and reaching out to take Eddie’s hand in hers. It dwarfs Eddie’s, and Eddie can feel the soft clamminess of it. He tries not to recoil in disgust, but now with his memories returned to him, with the knowledge that Eddie never loved Myra and she was just a replacement for his mom when she died, he can’t stand the thought of Myra touching him.

He knows it’s unfair. She’s his wife, and he’s lying in a hospital bed in what appears to be a coma. She’s allowed to be worried.

The problem is, Eddie can’t help thinking that she doesn’t look worried at all.

“There’s been no change in the last few weeks,” Myra mutters in a volume that is much too loud to really be a mutter, but sounds just as begrudging. “All the rest of your little friends are long gone, so why are you still here?” Myra asks shrewdly, and something about her tone reminds Eddie so distinctly of his mother that he doesn’t know how he never noticed it before now.

Richie doesn’t answer her.

Myra makes a “harumph” noise. “Don’t know why I even let you in here,” Myra snarls to herself, squeezing her fingers tightly around Eddie’s.

“You couldn’t make me leave if you tried,” Richie snaps, and his tone is so hostile that Eddie’s head snaps to look at him. There’s a look of deep resentment in his gaze, a flash of anger that burns hot there.

Even before Myra responds, Eddie knows it was the wrong thing to say.

“I’m his wife!” she challenges him harshly. “And I could have you kicked out of here in a heartbeat,” she hisses, glaring at Richie. Eddie can see the way that Richie clenches his jaw in reaction to this, how his teeth grind together for a moment, before he inhales deeply, and lets his shoulders sag in defeat.

“I know,” he mumbles back, avoiding Myra’s gaze now. “Thank you for letting me stay,” he adds, and at best it's begrudging, but it seems to pacify Myra. Her grip loosens on Eddie’s hand.

“You’re welcome,” she replies pompously, and they both shut up.

In the silence, Eddie finds himself wondering why Myra is letting Richie stay. If he’d had a moment to think about what would have happened after Myra showed up, it would have been the Losers being banned from Eddie’s hospital room. At best, he’s shocked at Myra’s kindness, and at worst, he’s wondering what it is she’s angling for here.

It only takes a moment for Eddie to make the connection. It had been the same, with his mom. Once Eddie had gotten old enough to realize that he didn’t have to do every single thing she said, she’d started using Eddie’s friends as bargaining chips. She’d allow him to stay at their houses for longer and longer periods of time, knowing that if she did, Eddie would turn around and take his medicine just the way she’d asked, or stay home watching movies with her on her birthday, or allowing her to coddle him when he got sick.

Myra had always been much the same way, giving Eddie what she thought he might want because she knew if she did, then Eddie would owe her.

She was allowing Richie to stay because she thought it might get her something from Eddie when he woke up.

Eddie clenches his teeth at the very thought. He hates that he’s allowed both his mother and Myra to use him like that. He hates that he ever thought it was okay. How much of a tyrant has Myra been to Richie, to the rest of his friends, just for the satisfaction of knowing that she’s doing Eddie a favor by letting them stay here?

Eddie wonders if Myra ever blamed them for Eddie’s… accident. The thought of it makes him ache for his friends. He knows his wife well, can only just imagine the venom she’s spit at them, and he wonders how Richie can still be around to take it.

Eddie blinks away a new set of tears, and suddenly the vision fades from his mind. His brow furrows immediately, and he blinks a few more times in confusion before he finally asks. “Wait, that’s it? What about the others?” He can’t help the frustration in his tone as he waits for a response.

“You asked to see them as they are now,” Maturin responds gravely. Eddie feels himself inflating with frustration, ready to scream, but Maturin continues, “I can only show you what your body has been there to witness.” His voice is calm, not unkind, but very serious.

Eddie deflates almost immediately.

“Right,” he mutters dully, and crosses his legs on the floor. He swipes a hand through his hair roughly, shoving it back against the top of his head for no other reason than to avoid yanking on it the way he’s so sorely tempted to do.

Of course, it’s not as simple as — as — whatever the fuck Eddie had been imagining. Maturin has done nothing so far to suggest that he can show Eddie just anything. Eddie himself has been in all three visions, so it makes sense that the only things Eddie can see are things he was there for or whatever. It’s just that… Eddie had really been hoping to see more than that.

He just wants to know if his friends are going to be okay without him. Would it be so bad, if he died? The idea of going back is terrifying to Eddie. He doesn’t know if there's anything worth going back for — that was the whole reason he’d asked — and so far all Maturin has shown him is Richie falling to pieces over Eddie’s nearly dead body and Myra treating Richie like shit, neither of which has done anything other than make Eddie feel sad.

He wants to know how long it’s been.

A long time, Maturin had said, and Myra had commented that there’s been no change in Eddie for weeks. Richie’s still there, though, sitting at his bedside, refusing to leave, and it just doesn’t make sense. Why is Richie still there? When did everybody else leave? Had they forgotten Eddie already, now that they were gone? Was that why Richie hadn’t left his bedside?

There are so many questions that Eddie wants the answers to so bad, but more than anything else, he just wants to see his friends.

He rubs his hands over his face and begs Maturin, “Please just… let me see them. All of them, or as many of them as you can get into one room. Before they left.”

Maturin doesn’t answer this time, but he does drag Eddie along into another memory.

“The doctors say he’s recovering well,” Bev announces as she walks into Eddie’s hospital room. Eddie’s already looking in her direction, so he doesn’t have to turn to see her.

She looks much the same as the last time he’d seen her except cleaner, more put together. She’s still in kids’ clothes, faded blue jeans that hit her mid-calf, and a long-sleeved white shirt. The only thing she’s missing is the key around her neck that she’d worn the summer of ‘89 and the thought makes Eddie smile.

She looks healthy, too. There’s a glow in her cheeks that hadn’t been there at the restaurant, and her eyes are bright. Eddie almost wants to say she looks happy, except she isn’t smiling as her eyes land on Eddie’s body. In fact, she frowns the moment she looks at Eddie, and the crease in her brow becomes obvious. There are worry lines all along her face that hadn’t been there before, and Eddie wonders, how long had I been asleep when this happened?

Unaware of who else is in the room just then, Eddieisn’t sure what kind of response to expect, but when Richie asks, “Then why hasn’t he woken up yet?” in a shockingly loud, harsh tone, Eddie immediately flinches. He turns to his right to find that Richie is sitting at his bedside again, only this time he looks a hell of a lot worse.

The dark circles under his eyes are even more prominent than in the last memory, set into this sallow skin. His face looks gaunt, like he hasn’t been eating very much, and the messy, greasy look to his hair suggests he hasn’t showered in a few days either. His beard is even more grown in than when he’d been with Myra, making it rather prominent on his face, and it isn’t exactly a good look for him, either. The bottom is a lot more grey than the rest, betraying Richie’s age.

Looking at him, Eddie can see the grief pure on his face, and it makes his heart ache. God, is this what he’s doing to his friends? To Richie? Making them suffer, because he hasn’t decided whether or not he’s going to wake up?

Unable to face that thought just now, Eddie forces himself to look away. He almost regrets it, when he takes in the look of deep sympathy playing out on Bev’s face. There’s a gentle understanding to her gaze as she steps forward, moving into the space on the other side of Eddie’s bed.

“His body has been put through a lot, Richie,” she explains sadly, taking Eddie’s hand gently in hers. Unlike Myra’s touch, it doesn’t make Eddie want to recoil. In fact, it’s soothing, her skin soft and warm against the cold of his own.

Growling in frustration, Richie snaps back, “don’t you think I know that?”

Bev flinches back, eyes a little wide and wary. Richie glares at her for a long moment, his chest heaving with anger, and then, suddenly, it’s like he deflates. His face absolutely crumples and Eddie wants to cry. He’s never seen Richie look like that, ever.

“Sorry,” Richie mutters, sniffling. It doesn’t occur to Eddie that Richie is holding his hand until he lets go, and he misses the warmth immediately. Richie shoves his face into his hands roughly, miserably, and his shoulders start to shake.

“Oh, Richie,” Bev whispers, biting her lip and staring at him sadly. She doesn’t reach out to touch him, to comfort him, something that confuses Eddie. He wants to beg her to go to him, but she doesn’t. She looks tempted, almost desperate to do just that, but she doesn’t, and Eddie doesn’t understand why.

If he were awake, he’d already have Richie in his arms, hugging him tight and allowing him to cry into Eddie’s shoulder instead. Eddie’s done it before when they were kids, on nights when Richie couldn’t sleep because of the nightmares and cried softly in Eddie’s bed, unwilling to tell Eddie what was actually wrong.

Eddie still doesn’t know what used to make Richie cry like that, but it hadn’t been near as bad as the look on Richie’s face just a moment ago, before he’d hid it in his hands.

He aches to hold Richie, to make all of his sadness go away.

“It’s going to be okay,” Bev finally says after a long moment of allowing Richie to cry. She bites her lip, tears welling in her own eyes, and squeezes Eddie’s hand. “It’s going to be okay, Richie, I promise.”

“How do you know that?” Richie asks hoarsely, voice thick with tears. When he looks up at Bev, his face is shiny and wet, eyes and nose a deep, painful-looking red. It offsets the darkness under his eyes, makes them look even more hollow.

Bev offers him a watery smile. “Because he’s still alive, Rich. Against all the odds,” she explains soothingly, the tears thick in her throat as well. Eddie watches as she swallows heavily past them, and keeps talking. “He’s been in and out of surgery for weeks, and the doctors say he’s getting stronger. He’ll wake up, Richie, I promise.”

Her eyes are gentle as she nods at Richie, her voice as encouraging as possible for someone holding back tears. Richie stares back at her brokenly, before nodding as well.

Richie goes back to crying softly into his hands, and Bev closes her eyes to visibly compose herself. After a moment, she takes the seat to the right of Eddie, and stares up into his face instead.

“Hey baby,” she murmurs softly to him, petting her fingers over the back of Eddie’s hand. Eddie wants to close his eyes at how gentle and tender it feels. When was the last time someone touched him like that? Not Myra, certainly — she could play gentle with him, but it didn’t feel tender, and more often than not she was likely to grip onto Eddie firmly and direct him to where she wanted him to be.

Bev touching him like this is everything that Eddie hadn’t known he’d been missing, and he finds himself crying again.

“We’re all waiting here for you when you’re ready to wake up, okay?” Bev offers sweetly after another moment. “And we’re not going to forget each other again, I promise,” she adds with a little laugh. “We’ve already checked. Ben had to head out a few days ago, and I was just talking to him this morning. He still knows who we all are,” she explains, sounding a little happier now. “He misses you,” she continues thoughtfully, as if she can feel that Eddie needs to hear it. “He’s sad that he couldn’t stay — work, you know — but I told him that you would understand,” she reassures him and pats the top of his hand.

Eddie wishes that he could tell her that he does understand. He does. He’d known his friends had lives outside of Derry now, lives that they would need to get back to, and just hearing that Ben hadn’t wanted to leave is more than enough.

And he remembers! He still remembers them! Maybe the magic died with Pennywise. Maybe Eddie doesn’t really have to be so scared.

Having said her piece to Eddie, Bev turns back to Richie again. He’s still sitting quietly on Eddie’s other side, sniffling now, but not crying. When Eddie looks at him, he can’t help feeling like Richie looks a little dead-eyed.

“Rich,” Bev says, drawing Eddie’s attention to her. “We’re all here for you, you know,” she tells him confidently, nodding her head fiercely when Richie doesn’t immediately respond. “We’re not going to leave you, either.”

Eddie doesn’t fully understand what she means by that, but Richie seems to. His lips twitch in a smidge of a smile, and he nods in return. “Yeah. I know,” he agrees.

Seeming appeased by this, Bev releases Eddie’s hand and gets up. “Well, I better step out and let Bill come say goodbye. He’s leaving this afternoon,” Bev explains as she turns around to leave. “I’ll be by tomorrow, give Mike a chance to visit with Eddie before Myra comes in,” she explains quietly.

She’s quiet as she leaves. For a moment, Eddie wonders why Bev had to step out for Bill to come in, and then it occurs to him that he might still be in the ICU. They mentioned he’d been in and out of surgeries, and if he’s in the ICU, he’s probably limited to two visitors at a time.

Bev had stepped out so that Richie wouldn’t have to.

Eddie’s chest tightens. He watches Richie closely then, realizing a little belatedly that Richie had mentioned being on tour at dinner the other night. Something melts inside of Eddie as he realizes that Richie clearly hasn’t left his side in weeks. He’s dropped everything for Eddie. For Eddie. Eddie doesn’t know whether to laugh or to cry, so he does both.

It hurts, seeing this whole thing tear his friends up. A part of him is shocked that any of them are still here, and yet deep down inside of him, he isn’t surprised at all. Of course they’re still here for him. Did he really expect them to just up and leave? Did he really think that after twenty plus years of being without each other, they’d be willing to let each other go again?

Eddie knows that he isn’t willing to. Eddie knows that if it were any of his friends in this situation, he would do the same thing. Hell, he’d risked his own life to save Richie’s because Eddie doesn’t know what he would have done if Richie had died.

If Richie had been the one to get hurt down in the cistern, Eddie probably would have reacted just as passionately. And he knows that if it were Richie in this bed, Eddie wouldn’t leave his side either.

“Hey,” Bill says, drawing Eddie out of his thoughts, and sitting down in the seat Bev had vacated some time ago. Eager to see his friend, Eddie turns to look at him, and feels relief fill his veins. There’s just something so comforting about seeing the other Losers alive and well.

Bill looks healthy, and like Bev before him, there’s a lightness to him that hadn’t been there at the Jade of the Orient. It looks like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders, a weight Bill had forgotten he was shouldering. He looks good, dressed up for travel and well put together.

“Hey,” Richie replies hoarsely. He clears his throat awkwardly, and tries to hide the fact that he’s been crying.

Bill doesn’t buy it. “How are you doing?” he asks gently in a voice similar to Bev’s, like he’s treading lightly. His gaze is sympathetic.

Richie shrugs, rather than answer, and turns to look out the window. Bill stares at the side of Richie’s face for a long time, before sighing audibly and turning his attention on to Eddie instead.

“Hey buddy,” Bill greets him, smiling. “I heard you’re healing pretty well,” he adds, eyes flickering to where Eddie is sure the bandage is wrapped around his body underneath the hospital gown. Bill’s lips twitch, like it’s hard, even now, to imagine Eddie’s injuries. He looks away quickly, back to Eddie’s face, which seems to be a much safer area to look at.

“We really miss you, you know,” Bill tries to say jokingly, in an obvious attempt to relieve some of the tension filling up the room. He glances over at Richie, and then back to Eddie when Richie doesn’t so much as twitch in response. “Especially Trashmouth over there,” Bill stage whispers, like it’s a secret, and obviously trying to drag something out of Richie, though what, Eddie doesn’t know. “I’ve never known him to be so quiet,” Bill teases, winking at Eddie’s prone body.

For the first time, Eddie realizes that Bill’s stutter is gone, and he marvels at that. Ben hadn’t forgotten them after leaving Derry, and Bill’s stutter is gone. Maybe the magic really is dead.

Bill’s humor is quick to disappear when Richie doesn’t immediately jump in to tease him back, or otherwise defend himself. It seems to bring Bill back to himself, because he sighs and says, “But you know, I really can’t stay much longer. I wish I could, I really do, but… I have to get home,” he explains regretfully, and he truly does look like the last thing he wants to do is leave.

Eddie aches with the knowledge, his heart swelling with a mix of happiness and sadness. His friends love him, there could be no clearer truth in the world, and he was hurting them.

Eddie doesn’t want to hurt them. He realizes then, with sudden clarity, that he wants to go back.

Seeming to pull himself back together, Bill smiles at Eddie and says, “So it would be really nice if you could maybe wake up now,” he teases, but there's a sadness to his voice this time that hadn’t quite been there before, like he knows that Eddie isn’t going to wake up for him, but he wants it so so bad.

There’s a beat where no one says anything. The beep of Eddie’s heart monitor is the only sound in the room.

Bill sighs.

“Tried that already,” Richie finally interrupts, turning to offer Bill a half-smile. Bill’s eyes are a little wet when he meets Richie’s gaze, but he huffs a quiet laugh regardless. “Asshole intends to keep us waiting,” Richie adds with a soft huff of his own, and glares playfully at Eddie. “I told him if he wakes up I’ll…” But Richie doesn’t continue. Instead, he turns to stare back outside the window, his lips trembling slightly.

Richie tangles his fingers together in his lap, and holds on tight.

Eddie feels his brow furrow. Richie’ll what?

Bill doesn’t say anything for a long time. He just stares at the side of Richie’s face cautiously, thoughtfully, like he’s trying to decide if he should say something or not. Finally, Bill leans in closer to Richie and asks, “Are you going to tell him?”

Richie doesn’t move. He doesn’t so much as twitch. He looks frozen in place, like the smallest move could break him. Bill bites his lip, but presses on, “You should tell him.”

Eddie blinks in confusion, and the memory dissolves.

Tell him what? What should Richie tell him?

“Have you decided?” asks Maturin, breaking through Eddie’s thoughts before he can even truly begin to consider what Bill had been talking about. Eddie’s eyes snap upwards, in the space where he’s decided Maturin must be, regardless of whether or not Eddie can see him, and nods his head slowly.

“Yeah… I mean,” Eddie mumbles, shaking his head to clear away the haze of confusion. He frowns, thinking about Richie and the way that he’d looked, sitting at Eddie’s bedside for so long. Sure, Bev and Bill had looked sad when they’d come to visit Eddie, but they hadn’t looked like Richie. Richie had looked absolutely destroyed. He’d been the only one there, too, in that first vision, and hadn’t Myra said that the rest of his friends were gone?

Eddie doesn’t understand.

He looks up again, and asks, “Why is Richie still there?”

There’s silence, for a long time, and then Maturin says, “He’s waiting for you.”

There’s no warning this time. Eddie doesn’t even get the chance to blink before he realizes that he’s back in the hospital room — only this time it’s dark. The lights are on, but the window is open and it’s clear that it’s nighttime.

For a moment, Eddie doesn’t understand what’s going on. He thinks, briefly, that he must have woken up without an answer to his question, and it makes him irrationally angry. He starts to rail against Maturin in his mind, thinking what the fuck does that even mean!? before he hears a quiet sob.

Eddie turns his head. Richie’s face is pressed against Eddie’s palm, and Eddie can feel tears dripping down Richie’s cheeks. He’s crying quietly, hiccuping over sobs the same way he had been down in the cistern, only softer this time, a little less frantic. He’s bent in half over Eddie’s bedside, so much so that Eddie can’t really see his face, but he can feel the heat of him from where Richie has pressed Eddie’s hand to his cheek.

“Wake up, Eddie,” Richie whispers, begging. His voice is hoarse, like he’s been crying for a very long time. “Please, just wake up,” he says again, “I’ll do anything just to hear your voice again.”

Eddie feels his heart launch into his throat, and suddenly he’s crying too. It hurts so fucking bad to see Richie falling apart like this.

Eddie wishes he could talk to Richie, that he could hold Richie back. But despite looking through his own eyes, Eddie knows that he can’t actually move his body. He knows, in fact, from Richie’s perspective, Eddie’s eyes aren’t even open. And he knows, above that, that this is just a memory.

Eddie couldn’t comfort Richie in this moment no matter how much he wants to, because it’s already happened.

“I just got you back,” Richie gasps after another moment, his voice sounding almost loud in the quiet room. Eddie’s lips tremble with anguish, because Richie looks so alone. “I’m not leaving you until you wake up,” Richie adds roughly, squeezing tight to Eddie’s hand.

Eddie closes his eyes, because looking at Richie like this hurts too much.

“Fuck,” Richie mumbles after a long moment of silence, and turns his head against Eddie’s palm. Eddie feels the soft, warm pressure of lips against his skin, and realizes that Richie is kissing the center of his palm.

It sends a jolt of shock through Eddie’s body, and he feels warm all over. His breath catches, surprised at the unexpected touch. Something like excitement sparks deep inside of him, and Eddie scrambles to understand.

“I never even got a chance to hold you,” Richie whispers against his palm, turning his head again so that Eddie is cupping his cheek. Eddie holds his breath, straining his ears to catch every last word of what Richie has to say. “You can’t die, Eddie,” Richie whimpers, shoulders shaking with his sobs. “Not yet. Fuck, Eddie, please… I never got to tell you…”

Tell me what!? Eddie wants to scream, but he knows that Richie can’t hear him. A thought claws at the back of Eddie’s mind, a memory, something that he’d felt back when he’d first seen Richie in the Jade of the Orient. Something that he’s felt for a very long time, but that he’d buried long before he’d even left Derry.

He hears something of that in Richie’s voice, and begs him tell me, Richie, just tell me.

Richie doesn’t. He just continues to cry.

“Please wake up, Eddie,” Richie whispers, “Wake up and I swear to god, I’ll tell you. But you have to wake up first. Please.”

Richie doesn’t raise his head, but he does turn his face and kiss the center of Eddie’s palm again. His lips are so warm and chapped against Eddie’s skin. It doesn’t feel like anything Eddie has ever felt before in his entire life — not when his mom used to kiss him on the forehead, not when Myra used to kiss him before bed. It’s not quick and perfunctory, it’s long and leisurely and so fucking fierce that Eddie burns with it.

It’s something that Eddie has wanted for a long time, and as he stares at Richie he sees something in his eyes that tells him that maybe Richie has wanted it just as long.

Eddie’s heart bursts, and he remembers.

When Eddie was sixteen, the summer just before his senior year, his mom decided that they were going to move to New York to live with Eddie’s aunt. Her health had been declining for years, and Eddie’s mom had volunteered to come and care for her.

Eddie hadn’t had a choice. He was too young to live on his own, let alone fight his mother to stay behind in Derry, and he wasn’t naive enough to think that he could get away with running away, so he’d been forced to accept his fate.

He, Richie, and Mike were the last of the Losers left in Derry at the time, and even before he left, Eddie knew that everything was about to change. They’d watched Bev, Bill, Ben, and then Stan leave, and while all four of them had promised to call, to come back and visit, they never did. It was like something happened to you when you left Derry, because none of them could really believe that their friends would have just forgotten them like that.

The first time, sure. Maybe Bev just didn’t want to think about what had happened in Derry anymore, maybe she didn’t feel as close to the rest of the Losers as they had to her. But then Bill had gone, Big Bill who Eddie had been friends with since first grade, and it just didn’t make sense.

So, by now, they knew. They knew that the moment one of them left Derry, they’d never hear from each other again. The realization that this was Eddie’s last chance to tell Richie how he felt had been a difficult pill to swallow, but in the end, he’d decided he had nothing left to lose.

This time, when Eddie remembers, it's not an image pressed to his eye by Maturin, it’s just a memory.

Eddie’s lying in the middle of his bare mattress, sheets stripped away and shoved into a bag at Eddie’s feet. He can hear the movers downstairs, dragging furniture out into the front lawn. He knows it’s going to take them a while to pack everything downstairs into the moving van, so he has time to laze about and wait for Richie to come say goodbye to him.

He’d reading a comic book Richie had given him for his birthday last year — X-Men #4, The Brotherhood of Evil Mutants!

(Eddie had kept that comic for sixteen years, until his wife found it buried in a box full of Eddie’s old college things and threw it out. He hadn’t remembered what it was, then.)

He remembers now, and though the comic hadn’t really been anything special, it had been one of the few items not already packed up before the move. He and Richie had always read comics together, from their days in the hammock all the way through high school. It felt like home, holding that comic, flipping through the pages and scanning over the art, and Eddie was comforted by it.

He’s anxious. He hasn’t decided yet what he’s going to say to Richie when he arrives, but he’s promised himself that he won’t let Richie say goodbye without telling him how he feels. He keeps tapping his foot against the edge of his bed, his eyes darting from his comic to the door and back, over and over again. He’s not looking at his door when Richie comes in.

“Hey loser,” Richie announces himself, pushing Eddie’s door open without knocking. Eddie jumps at the sudden arrival, and frowns at his best friend, but doesn’t comment on the nickname.

“Hey,” he greets back instead, his voice a little subdued, and watches as Richie approaches the bed and flops down on it next to Eddie, uninvited, laying down too. Eddie rolls his eyes but knocks shoulders with Richie companionably anyway. He feels warm all the way down his arm where they touch, and only pulls away reluctantly.

“What’cha reading?” Richie asks, plucking the comic book from Eddie’s hands. Instinctively, Eddie snatches the comic back quickly and shoves it to the other side of his bed, next to his open backpack. Richie stares at him in shock, and Eddie grimaces.

“Woah, Eds, calm down,” Richie teases him, though he looks concerned. “You hiding a playboy or something?” he asks with a nervous grin.

Eddie huffs angrily and glares at the ceiling. “No fucknut, don’t be disgusting,” he spits at him, thinking I just don’t want anything to happen to the comic if we screw around with it. He doesn’t say the words aloud, though, because he knows he sounds ridiculous. It’s just that… Richie had given that to him, and Eddie doesn’t want anything bad to happen to it, not when… when soon it’ll be all Eddie has left of Richie.

“Right,” Richie replies dubiously, arching a brow at Eddie. Eddie groans, and shoves his face into his hands.

“Stop being an asshole, Richie,” Eddie hisses defensively. “I’m leaving today, remember?” he snaps at him, more harshly than he’d intended. He winces at his own words, but avoids Richie’s gaze, staring up at the ceiling instead.

“I know that, Eds,” Richie replies softly, his voice quiet and a little sad, and all it does is remind Eddie of why Richie is here right now. He’s been trying so hard not to think about it, not really. For the past week, he’s acted like nothing has changed, but now he has to face the fact that he’s leaving in the next few hours and… it’s just, this is all so fucking unfair.

He doesn’t want to go to New York. He doesn’t want to leave Derry. Or, well, fuck, he doesn’t want to leave Derry like this. He and Richie had promised each other months ago that they’d leave Derry together, that they’d apply to the same schools and leave at the same time and force themselves to remember each other if it was the last thing they ever did, and Eddie wanted that so bad, but then his mom had to go and screw it all up.

The anxiety and pain bubble up and over until Eddie’s blinking back tears, avoiding Richie’s gaze. He’s been pushing it all down for so long that it’s almost not a surprise that he’s falling apart right now, even if he doesn’t want to be.

He shouldn’t have waited until the last minute to talk to Richie, because now Eddie can’t even think of confessing to Richie when all he wants is to stay here.

Holding back his tears, Eddie reaches down between his and Richie’s body and scrabbles for Richie’s fingers. He takes Richie’s hand into his the moment their palms touch and hangs on tight. Richie jumps at the contact, but it’s only a moment before Richie locks their fingers together like they used to do as kids.

Eddie’s heart squeezes tight, and he bites his bottom lip.

Fuck, fuck, he’s going to lose this. In just a few short hours, he’s going to lose this forever, and he doesn’t know how to come to terms with it.

“Eddie?” Richie murmurs when Eddie doesn’t say anything else. He squeezes Eddie’s hand comfortingly in his, and waits him out. Richie is so rarely patient, but even for how much of a loudmouth he is, Richie has always known when to simmer down and take care of his friends.

And Eddie’s going to lose all of it.

“We can still try, right?” Eddie finally bursts out, his voice thick with tears. “We can still try to like… see each other again?” Eddie begs Richie, finally opening his eyes and turning his head on the bed to stare at Richie. Richie mimics his movements until they’re both staring at each other. Eddie has tears in his eyes that he’s trying to blink back, and Richie looks so, so fucking lost that Eddie wants to throw up.

“Of course, Eds,” Richie murmurs back, offering him an unconvincing smile. “You’ve got that list of schools we agreed upon, right? We’ll just pick one and…” But even as Richie suggests it, Eddie knows that it won’t work. There’s no guarantee that they’ll both get in, and even if they do, there’s no way to be certain that Eddie will remember which school they’d agreed upon.

Eddie suddenly lets out a broken sob, and rolls over to shove his face into his mattress. His arm hurts from the way he’s laying on it, but he refuses to release Richie’s hand.

“Eddie,” Richie whines, rolling into Eddie’s side and pulling him into a one-armed hug. “Hey, Eddie, don’t cry,” Richie begs him, shoving his face against Eddie’s cheek so that his cold nose is pressed against Eddie’s skin. Eddie can feel his breathing hot on his face, and wishes more than anything that he had the courage to turn and kiss him.

He doesn’t. He can’t. He’s crying too hard, and he can’t think of confessing to Richie right now when all Eddie wants to do is crawl into his arms and never let go.

He doesn’t want to go. He so desperately doesn’t want to go.

“Shh,” Richie whispers into his ear, rubbing his arm up and down Eddie’s side and squeezing the fingers of his other hand. “Hey, shh, it’s going to be alright,” Richie promises him.

“No, it’s not!” Eddie wails into his mattress, sniffling hard. Richie holds him tighter.

“Hey, you don’t know that,” Richie soothes him, “We don’t know what happens when you leave Derry, Eds, it’s all just —”

“You forget everything!” Eddie interrupts him, hiccuping over another sob. “You forget all of your friends and you promise to call and then you never do and — and — and —”

Eddie isn’t capable of completing that thought, merely continuing to cry into his stripped bare mattress. He’s getting tears and snot all over it and it’s gross, okay, it’s so fucking gross, but Eddie can’t bring himself to care.

“But we don’t know that for sure, Eds,” Richie reasons with him, voice so quiet and soft against Eddie’s ear. Eddie shakes in his arms but doesn’t answer. “What if… what if it’s not like that?” Richie suggests. Eddie goes to interrupt him, but Richie cuts him off and says, “No, listen. What if once you're on the other side, you just can’t communicate with those in Derry?” he asks, voice filled with hope.

Eddie wants to scream that doesn’t make it any better, but he doesn’t. He hangs onto Richie’s words, and begs the universe to let them be true.

“What if, once I get out of Derry too, I remember you and I come and find you, hmm?” Richie suggests, petting Eddie’s side. “What if we pick somewhere to meet in a year, and promise we’ll both show up? You can write it on one of your planners, and I’ll write it down in my old yearbook, and we’ll see each other again,” Richie promises him, jostling Eddie in his arms a little, and asking, “hmm? Hmm?”

Still crying, Eddie nods his head and says, “Okay,” even as he knows that it’s possible they’ll never see each other again. He wants nothing more than to hope Richie is right, that somehow this will all work out in the end. Maybe he’ll cross the Derry border and he’ll still remember Bill, and Ben, and Bev, and Stan, and maybe he’ll hunt down their numbers and they’ll remember him too, and they’ll all sit and wait for Richie to graduate so that he can come join them at last.

Maybe they haven’t forgotten, Eddie thinks, hopes… Maybe Richie’s right, and they just can’t reach us here in Derry.

Eddie sobs harder, the fear bone-deep that it isn’t true.

Richie continues to hold him, rocking Eddie gently in his arms as he continues to cry. He murmurs, “it’s going to be okay,” over and over again, like a mantra they’re both holding on to. Eddie imagines turning to Richie and pressing his face into his chest, imagines digging his fingers into Richie’s shirt and never letting go.

He imagines kissing him, and Richie kissing him back, and Eddie still having to get up and go downstairs and leave for New York.

He can’t do it. He can’t put himself or Richie through that. He can’t imagine how much it would hurt to find out Richie likes him too, only to lose him almost immediately afterwards. What kind of a goodbye present would that be for Richie, anyway, to leave him behind with all of his memories of Eddie still intact, knowing that Eddie has forgotten him? Or if Eddie hasn’t forgotten, knowing that he won’t be able to see him again for over a year?

Eddie can’t do it.

He cries himself hoarse, and then cries for a little bit longer, and then finally sits up and wiggles out of Richie’s arms. He rubs his face raw against the palms of his hands, and then rubs his hands against his jeans, scrubbing the tears away.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles regretfully, avoiding Richie’s gaze.

“It’s okay,” Richie murmurs back, and knocks his shoulder into Eddie’s.

They sit in another long silence, in which Richie drops his head onto Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie sits there and lets him. They don’t speak again until Eddie’s mom calls him downstairs, and then Richie grabs a pen and a piece of paper from off of Eddie’s desk, and sits down to write.

“Times Square, August 18th, 1993. One year from now,” Richie declares heartily, and nudges it into Eddie’s hands. Eddie takes it carefully, tears blurring at his eyes again. “I promise to meet you there.”

Richie’s grin is so young and boyish, filled with a fragile hope that Eddie is sure is reflected on his own face. Eddie forces a grin, and says, “I promise.”

When Eddie opens his eyes again, he’s back in that empty, white space, aching for what he’d lost. He doesn’t regret not telling Richie he loved him back then, especially not knowing what he does now. It wouldn’t have changed anything — Eddie still would have gone to New York, and by the time he was halfway there, he would have already forgotten Richie. He still would have gone twenty-two years without his best friends, and he still would have married Myra.

The only difference might have been that Eddie would have had one, last, shining moment with Richie before he walked out of his life for so long, but even then, Eddie doesn’t regret not doing it. If Richie means what Eddie thinks he means, if he wants to tell Eddie what Eddie thinks he wants to tell him, then Eddie is glad he didn’t leave Richie behind to suffer without him.

But that means that Eddie can’t leave him now.

He wants to go home. He wants a second chance. He wants to see his friends again, and have the life that had been stolen from him twenty-two years ago. He wants to see Richie and find out what it is that Richie wants to tell him, and even if it isn’t what he's hoping, he wants a chance to tell Richie that he loves him.

Richie stayed at his bedside for weeks, endured Myra and what Eddie can only assume was her hatred for a group of friends she’d never met. His friends had carried him out of the cistern and stayed with him in the hospital for as long as they could, and Eddie… well Eddie survived.

He wants to keep on surviving.

“I’ve made my decision,” he tells Maturin.

That same, grandfatherly air is in his voice when Maturin replies, “I am glad when I can help.”

Eddie asks, “How long has it been?”

“Fifty-eight days, Eddie Kaspbrak,” Maturin explains, and says, “Your family is waiting for you.”

Eddie smiles, because he knows that it’s true. He turns and faces the golden door, and without looking backwards, he moves towards it. It takes him fifteen steps exactly to reach it, and when he takes the doorknob in hand and opens it, the world goes black.

**

Eddie opens his eyes slowly. There’s a dull throbbing sensation in his head and in his torso and in his back that hadn’t been there when Maturin had shown him the Losers, and Richie, and Myra. It’s a new, annoying sensation that reminds Eddie he’s recovering. He can hear the heart monitor beeping behind him, the sound a little less steady now that Eddie is stirring, and there's light streaming in through the open window.

He’s groggy, unlike when he was in that strange, white, nothingness, and it takes Eddie a moment to realize that it’s because there are drugs in his system. It takes another minute for him to become aware enough to actually look around, and when he does, he’s disappointed to find that Richie isn’t in the exact same spot he’s been in every other time that Eddie has seen him.

Myra’s there, though, and she’s reading a book, her back turned towards Eddie. She hasn’t noticed that he’s awake yet, which Eddie has to admit is a relief. He needs another moment before he can even think of handling the incoming freak out he’s sure is coming

Eddie takes his first real, deep breath in a long while, and groans when it causes a searing pain to rip through his body.

Myra jumps, and turns to him.

“Eddie!” she shouts in shock, immediately dropping her book to the ground and reaching out with clammy hands to take Eddie’s in hers. Eddie recoils automatically, thrown off by her soft touch, and missing Richie’s calloused hands. He struggles against her, but her grip only seems to grow tighter, so Eddie gives up before he hurts himself.

“Eddie bear, how are you feeling? Are you alright? Are you in any pain, discomfort? Should I ask the nurses for more painkillers?” she asks him, leaving no room for an answer. A concern that Eddie hadn’t seen previously suddenly seems to reside in the soft, puffy grimace of her face.

Eddie hates it, recognizing for the first time in his life just how false it really is. He can see his mother in that look, the faux concern that had controlled Eddie’s life for so long…

Without waiting for any answer from Eddie, Myra immediately launches into a rant. “Oh, Eddie I told you not to come here! I told you that you couldn’t look out for yourself! I told you, didn’t I?” she demands of him, brow folding into a worried line, her lips trembling. “And now you’re here, in the hospital, and the doctors aren’t even sure if you’ll ever walk again! They said there could be brain damage, Eddie! Bain damage!” she presses, squeezing his hand between hers, and practically dry sobbing around the words.

Eddie doesn’t miss the fact that there aren’t any real tears, and he squirms under her touch. This all reminds him too much of his mother, and he doesn’t know how he’s never seen it before. Crocodile tears, they were called. Myra had been using them on Eddie their entire marriage, but this time he isn’t buying it.

“Where’s Richie?” Eddie croaks, finally finding his voice.

Myra immediately stops wailing, and stares at Eddie with wide eyes, as if she’s never seen him before in her life. Her mouth opens and closes like a fish, astonished. Then her face hardens, and she straightens up in her chair. The worry and concern are gone.

Eddie hadn’t answered any of her questions. Eddie hadn’t told her it was going to be okay, the way he used to when Myra made a fuss about something. Eddie wasn’t playing the docile husband Myra was so used to, and it was clear she didn’t know how to handle it.

“You mean that awful comedian?” Myra spits after a long moment, scoffing at Eddie. She finally releases his hand and tosses her hair over her shoulder, glaring hard at nothing. Eddie watches her bend to pick up her fallen book and place it on the table next to Eddie’s bed, all without looking directly at him. “He’s gone home, and it’s about time, too,” Myra says, her nose in the air. “He and the rest of your little friends are who put you in this position in the first place, and look what they’ve done! They’ve left you here all alone to fend for yourself! This is why you need me, Eddie bear. I’m the only one who can take care of you,” Myra continues in a haughty tone, talking too fast for Eddie to keep up with. His brain is still slow and sluggish from the drugs, but eventually Myra’s words seem to register with him, and Eddie goes still.

Richie went home? No… he couldn’t have. That doesn’t sound right. Eddie had just seen him, hadn’t he? When Maturin first showed him what was going on in real-time. Surely it hasn’t been that long since the first vision?

Besides, why would Richie have left? It’s been almost two months, and if Richie hadn’t gone home already, why would he go now?

Because it’s been nearly two months, and you still hadn’t woken up, some part of Eddie tells himself, and he goes cold inside. Fuck, had he been too late? Had Richie really given up on him and left, after all this time? Before he could tell Eddie — whatever it was he was going to tell Eddie?

A slow trickle of panic seems to make its way into Eddie’s brain despite the drugs, and he turns his head away from Myra to check the other side of his bed again. There’s no sign of Richie there, not that Eddie even knows what to look for, but… had Richie really gone?

Eddie’s heart plummets, and he frowns hard at Richie’s empty chair. He knows, logically, that it’s not Richie’s fault if he finally went home. There were no signs that Eddie was going to wake up any time soon, and it doesn’t reflect badly on Richie if he needed to get back to his own life now. Eddie also knows that this isn’t his only chance to ever see Richie again, he knows all he’d have to do is call him and Richie would come running right back but… Eddie wants Richie to be here now. He doesn’t want Myra, and he sure as fuck doesn’t want to go home with her.

Before he can really think about it, Eddie croaks, “You’re lying.” He’s surprised at himself for all of a moment, and then the thought rings true. It would not surprise Eddie at all if she was lying.

Myra stops dead again. Her eyes are wide as she stares at Eddie, clearly shocked at his words, and then they narrow.

“What did you say, dear?” she asks, sickeningly sweet, daring him to repeat himself.

Eddie grits his teeth and manages, “Where’s Richie?”

Myra glares at him. “I told you, he’s gone home, where he belongs,” Myra dismisses him easily, but she’s avoiding Eddie’s eyes. She’s looking somewhere around Eddie’s chin, and her chest is heaving like she’s holding back from screaming at him. Eddie’s eyes narrow, and he shifts on the bed, looking for the call button on the side of his bed. The moment he finds it, he jams his fingers against it over and over again.

He needs someone else in here to tell him what’s going on and where Richie is. Surely someone knows where Richie is, and maybe one of the nurses can go and get Richie for him. Anything would be better than being stuck here with Myra all alone, with her lies and deceit and crocodile tears.

Suddenly, Eddie wants nothing more than to be free of her right fucking now.

“Eddie?” Myra asks him, half-hysterical, “Eddie, what are you doing? Who are you calling?” she demands, grappling for Eddie’s hand and finally forcing it away from the call button. Eddie struggles against her for just a moment, until his chest starts to hurt too badly and he’s forced to stop, gasping roughly through the pain. Myra opens her mouth as if she’s going to say something else, but then someone knocks lightly on his room door and strides right on in.

It’s a dark-skinned nurse in green scrubs, her hair a little wild around her face, and the minute Eddie sees her he just knows that she hates Myra near as much as Eddie does. She looks like she’s barely hiding her annoyance at whatever racket Myra is making now, and she’s side-eyeing Myra in a way Eddie recognizes all too well.

Her eyes go almost instinctively to Eddie, however, and the moment she realizes that Eddie’s awake, she gasps “Oh!” entirely cutting off whatever she’d been about to say to Myra, and hurries over to Eddie’s side instead. “You’re awake,” she says, smiling down at him as she bustles over in front of Myra and starts taking his vitals. Her index and middle finger press against his pulse point, and she stares at his chest as she counts his respiration rate.

Eddie smiles wanly at her and nods. He means to ask her where’s Richie? but before he can, she launches into a series of questions of her own: do you remember your name, do you know where you are, are you feeling any pain?

Myra keeps trying to interrupt her, making a huge fuss about the poor lady “harassing” her husband, and demanding that she move out of the way so that Myra can hold Eddie’s hand, but the nurse merely speaks over her, clearly quite adept at dealing with Myra after nearly two months.

Eddie dutifully answers her questions, hoping the faster they get through this, the faster he can ask about Richie: my name's Eddie Kaspbrak, I’m in the hospital, I’m not in too much pain.

The first two answers are true. The third one, perhaps, is a bit of a lie. But Eddie doesn’t want the nurse to pump more drugs into his system, to make his head any cloudier than it is.

The nurse grabs Eddie’s chart from the end of his bed and begins noting things down as she talks to him. She reassures him that everything is going to be okay and that the doctor will be with him after he’s recovered a little more to discuss what’s happened. She asks Eddie to just stay calm and let her know if the pain gets any worse, and then reminds him that he’s doing very well considering his condition. She admits that he’s been in a coma for a couple of weeks, and pats his hand reassuringly as she says, “But you’re healing very well, Mr. Kaspbrak. The doctor will be glad to hear that you’re awake.”

Eddie endures all of this, and when the nurse finally seems to be done talking, he asks her a little impatiently, “Richie, where’s Richie?”

The nurse looks at him oddly for a moment, equal parts concerned with Eddie’s lack of concern with his welfare, and understanding of Eddie’s desire to locate his friend but eventually she smiles. “Your friend went down to the cafeteria about twenty minutes ago. He said that if you woke up, I should tell you ‘I’ll be back before you know it,’” she explains cheerily, a pleased smile on her face.

Eddie feels his chest fill up with warmth, and he finally relaxes, closing his eyes.

After checking over the monitors keeping track of his vitals, the nurse pats at his foot and takes her leave. Myra had shut up around the time the nurse was telling Eddie about his prognosis, and she’s still silent now. The silence feels heavy in the still room, both of them aware that Myra has just been caught in a lie.

Eddie knows, even before he opens his mouth, what’s coming next.

“Myra,” he starts, doing his level best to keep his voice steady.

“Oh Eddie bear, I’m so sorry!” Myra immediately wails, bursting into more fake tears. She shoves her face into her hands, and blubbers there. “I just — I just — he’s such a horrid man. He’s been horrible to me, Eddie bear!” she cries, her shoulders shaking, hiccuping around the words, and Eddie hates her. He hates her with every fiber of his being, because he knows that she’s lying, and he knows that she isn’t really crying, and he just wants her to leave so fucking bad.

“Myra,” he says again, interrupting her. Myra wails harder, as if she can drown out the sound of Eddie’s voice if she’s just loud enough. “Myra, listen to me,” he urges, his voice raspy and hoarse from the weeks of disuse. He can feel himself growing angrier and angrier with her until finally, he shouts as loud as he can “Goddamn it Myra! Shut up!”

Immediately Myra goes silent. She draws her face away from her hands and stares at Eddie in such stunned disbelief that he remembers the same moment he’d stood up to his mom a million years ago. She’d looked just as shocked as Myra does now.

Her eyes are red, and there are actual tears on her face, but Eddie isn’t falling for it this time. He can see right through it now, and he’s sick of it. He’s sick of being told that he’s weak, and that he can’t take care of himself, and that there’s something wrong with him, because there isn’t.

There isn’t.

He and his friends killed a supernatural space clown recently. Eddie is far from weak.

“Myra, go home,” Eddie says, and rolls his head away from her so that he doesn’t have to look at her anymore.

Myra makes a squawking noise. “What? Eddie bear, what are you saying?” she asks, her voice high pitched and strained.

“I want you to go home, Myra,” Eddie repeats, clearing his throat in an attempt to get rid of some of the raspiness there. It doesn’t help. “I don’t want you here,” he insists, glaring at the ceiling.

From his peripheral, Eddie sees Myra shaking her head. There’s a little disbelieving smile on her face as she reaches out to take Eddie’s hand again. Eddie snatches it away from her.

“Eddie, what are you talking about? You’re sick, and I need to take care of you, now,” she explains patiently, as if Eddie really does have brain damage. “I can’t leave you. I’m your wife.”

The very concept burns deep in the pit of Eddie’s stomach, and he spits “I want a divorce,” at her with as much vitriol as he can manage.

Myra gasps. “Eddie!” she shouts, appalled. “You don’t know what you’re talking about! You hit your head when that house collapsed, and now you’ve lost your mind!” she contends, beginning to cry again, big heaving sounds in the small hospital room. “I cuh-cuh-can’t leave you like this!” she wails, begging, “Please don’t make me go, Eddie bear!”

Myra throws herself at Eddie, as dramatic as possible even now, and clings to his arm. Disturbed, Eddie fights against her, straining his body and crying out in pain with each jerky movement. “Myra, get off me!” Eddie yells at her, “You’re hurting me!” he objects, gasping when he pulls too hard to the right and feels his body scream in protest at him.

Immediately, Myra releases him, looking miffed.

“Eddie bear, you’re hurting me,” she whines, and takes his hand roughly in hers again. Eddie doesn’t manage to dodge the touch this time, but he does reach over the side of his bed and slam his fingers into the call button again, still wrestling against his wife.

Myra gasps. “Eddie!” she cries, “What in the world are you doing? Why are you acting like this?” she whines, finally releasing Eddie as the same nurse from before turns the corner into Eddie’s room.

Before Eddie can so much as open his mouth, Myra demands, “Nurse —” and then cuts herself off without completing the title, as if she’d never gotten around to remembering the nurse’s name. She seems to shake it off quickly enough, as flippant as she’s always been with people whose jobs she thinks are beneath her notice. “My husband has clearly lost his mind,” she alleges angrily. “I think he needs to be put back to sleep until he calms down. He’s speaking absolute gibberish, and I implore you not to listen to a thing he says!” she demands very seriously, crossing her arms over her chest with her left hand facing outward, her wedding ring glistening under the fluorescent lights — some kind of poignant gesture meant to intimidate.

The nurse stares at her for a long moment, her mouth turned down into a deep frown. Something about her expression suggests that Myra has been making impossible demands of her for weeks, and she looks just about fed up with it. She turns her gaze onto Eddie and asks him, “What’s going on here, Mr. Kaspbrak? Are you alright?” she asks seriously.

“No, I am not alright,” Eddie explains hoarsely, clearing his throat ineffectually again. He can feel his head spinning now with the impossible flurry of activity he’s been putting his poor body through in the last few minutes. “My wife refuses to leave. I don’t want her here,” Eddie says clearly, staring the nurse down and begging her to listen to him.

The nurse considers him carefully for a long moment, before turning to Myra. “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” she starts, only for Myra to start screaming over her.

“You can’t make me go, I am his wife!” she screeches. “I am his primary caregiver, and you have to listen to me!” Myra insists, standing and stomping her foot against the ground.

The nurse glares at her, arms crossed over her chest. “Ma’am, you are disturbing my patient,” she starts, only for Myra to scream, “He’s my husband, and he is in a very fragile state of mind right now!”

The nurse argues back, “Your husband seems to be in complete control of his faculties, and until the doctor has assessed him fully and decided whether or not he needs someone else to make his decisions for him, it is my job to comply with any reasonable requests he may have!”

Myra stomps her foot again, and goes red in the face.

“He’s just woken up from a coma!” she bellows, “He needs me!”

“He needs medical treatment, ma’am,” the nurse shoots back, and points to the door. “And you are impeding his healing. I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Do not make me call hospital security,” she declares darkly, and stares Myra down.

Myra’s lip wobbles. Her hands clench into fists at her side, over and over and over again, until she finally slumps, defeated. Her eyes are a storm of anger when she turns to grab her things, her movements hostile. She doesn’t touch Eddie again, but her gaze says we’ll talk about this later.

Eddie doesn’t care, as long as she’s out of his room. His hands are shaking, and it takes him a long moment to realize that his heart rate has spiked as well. His breathing is a little uneven, something that seems to concern his nurse, because the moment that Myra has left the room, she’s at his side and coaxing him through a few breathing exercises.

Eddie’s just stood up to his wife for the first time in eight years, and through the foggy haze of pain, he feels nothing but relief.

The nurse fiddles with Eddie’s IV for a moment, and then pats at his hand soothingly. “We won’t let her back into your room until you give the say so, okay Mr. Kaspbrak? It’s going to be okay,” she says with a soft smile.

Eddie stares at her a little foggily. His limbs are beginning to feel lighter, his heart rate returning to normal, and some of the pain begins to seep out of him.

The nurse must have given him more pain medication.

Unable to process words at the moment, Eddie just nods his head gratefully at her.

She leaves after another moment of fussing, and Eddie feels his eyes start to slip closed. He doesn’t know how long he’s actually been awake, or how long he’d fought with Myra, but he does know that he feels suddenly exhausted. He doesn’t want to go to sleep, not before he sees Richie, but he’s not so sure he has much of a choice anymore...

There’s a knock on his door. Eddie snuffles at the sound, and opens bleary eyes, realizing after a moment that he had, indeed, drifted off. He shakes his head in an attempt to clear it of the fog there, and blinks at his doorway a few times, willing it to come into focus.

When it finally does, Eddie feels his heart jump in his chest.

Richie.

He smiles automatically, soft and bleary-eyed, as he takes in Richie’s face.

He looks the same as he had earlier, when Eddie had asked to see how the Losers were right now — scruffy, tired, and all bundled up in Eddie’s jacket. He looks warm and soft, and Eddie wishes he could hug him.

Richie, on the other hand, looks a little bit like he’s in shock, his lips twitching uncertainty, and his eyes wet with tears. He isn’t crying yet, but it seems like he might start any second. Eddie wishes he could stop making Richie cry.

“Rich,” he whispers, his voice somehow even more hoarse than when he’d first woken up.

“Hey, Eds,” Richie replies, his voice cracking a little. His lips are trembling even as he breaks out into a smile, and his eyes crinkle at the corners. Richie lets out a soft huff of a laugh, and then sniffles quietly. “Heard you were asking for me,” he says, his voice teasing, eyes twinkling.

“Yeah, asshole,” Eddie croaks with a fond laugh, and tilts his head in Richie’s direction so it’s easier to see him. “I missed looking at your stupid face,” he teases back, grinning softly.

Richie laughs too, his grin growing bigger as he steps into the room. He’s staring a little dopily at Eddie as he says, “Missed seeing yours too.” His lips wobble a little, and he swallows thickly, staring a little stupidly at Eddie. Then he breaks out in another laugh and says, “Glad to see you're awake.”

His eyes are blazing with something Eddie’s fuzzy brain struggles to pick out, but it makes him feel warm all over and reminds him of why he wanted to see Richie in the first place. He opens his mouth to bring it up, but Richie starts talking before he can.

“Where’s the missus?” he asks, dragging his gaze away from Eddie and frowning at the other side of the bed. His voice is more stilted than before as he makes his way to what Eddie now considers Richie’s side of the bed.

Right. Myra. Eddie sighs, and feels his shoulders relax a little with the knowledge that she’s not here. “Myra’s gone. I sent her home,” he explains, his voice coming out sort of raw and a little bit dazed, because there’s a part of him that still can’t believe what he’s done. Richie seems just as surprised, because the moment the words leave Eddie’s mouth, Richie is reeling back from him in shock.

“You what?” he asks, a disbelieving laugh bubbling up in his throat. “Eddie, you just woke up and you’ve already kicked your wife out?” he jokes, though his tone is more unsure than anything else, like he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. He still manages to laugh, clearly unable to help himself as he stares at Eddie.

Eddie nods his head, not quite able to muster up any laughter of his own. “I also asked for a divorce,” he adds, sounding almost astounded at himself. He’d done that, hadn’t he? He’d really done that. Eddie goes to smile at Richie, ultimately proud of himself for standing up to his wife, but Richie isn’t smiling back. In fact, he’s stopped laughing entirely, and he’s looking at Eddie with a half concerned, half assessing glance. Eddie doesn’t know what to do with that, so he frowns. “Is that really such a surprise?” he asks warily.

Slowly, Richie nods his head. “Yeah, it kinda is Eds,” Richie admits, his voice a low murmur. His face is doing something weird that Eddie can’t figure out, but he doesn’t look like he’s going to cry anymore. Instead he looks… something. It’s difficult to tell with his mind so addled with the drugs, but he forgets to be confused about it when Richie settles down in his usual chair and reaches for Eddie’s hand automatically, holding it gently.

Oh, Eddie thinks to himself, and smiles. He grips Richie’s hand back and squeezes tightly, feeling reassured that Richie is here.

Surprised, Richie startles a little and looks down at their hands. When he meets Eddie’s gaze again, all of the tension seems to have drained out of Richie’s face, and his cheeks seem slightly flushed, like he’s been caught out. Eddie can’t stop looking at him and the way his entire demeanor seems to have softened. He’s staring at Eddie with this look in his eyes that feels so fucking familiar, and his lips are twisted up like he’s trying not to smile but he’s smiling anyway, and —

Eddie knows that look. He’s seen it a thousand times since they were kids.

For the first time, he understands what it means.

Eddie thinks he’s always understood, on some level, but after watching Richie sit as his beside for two months, after hearing him cry over Eddie’s broken body, there’s really no room to ignore it anymore.

Eddie takes a deep breath to settle himself, and squeezes Richie’s hand again.

“Richie,” Eddie murmurs, peering up at him ardently.

“Yeah, Eds?” Richie hums, still looking at him like Eddie is his whole world. Eddie shivers and doesn’t hesitate.

“You told me if I wake up,” he rasps, watching as Richie’s eyes slowly widen in shock, “You’d tell me something,” he continues, and squeezes Richie’s fingers hard.

“You —” Richie starts, shaking his head in disbelief. “I —” he tries again, and stops. “Eds?” he asks finally, voice having gone a little breathless. Eddie can’t tell if Richie is terrified, or just confused, but he definitely looks stunned.

“What did you want to tell me, Rich?” Eddie urges, heart beating harder with every second that passes. Richie seems to notice it too, because he glances behind him to the heart monitor and then back at Eddie with wide eyes.

He’s trying to figure out how Eddie knows what he said, Eddie’s certain of it, but there’s no way Richie will be able to put it together, not without Eddie explaining it to him.

He will. He’ll tell Richie all about it later, but for right now, he just wants to hear Richie say it.

“Richie?” Eddie asks, prompting him gently.

“Fuck, Eds,” Richie whispers, shaking his head. When he meets Eddie’s gaze again, he looks nervous. He starts to rub his thumb along the back of Eddie’s hand, before clearing his throat. “I, uhm,” he starts, tripping over the words already. He huffs out a laugh, and shakes his head. “Of all the dumb things I said to you while you were —” Richie stutters to a stop, avoids the words in a coma entirely, and continues, “that’s the thing you heard?” His grin is shaky as he stares at Eddie.

Eddie grins a little stupidly, and nods his head.

“Well I did promise,” Richie mutters to himself, and stares down at Eddie’s hand. His fingers squeeze reflexively around Eddie’s and then relax again, but Richie doesn’t say anything else. He just stares at Eddie’s hand in his until Eddie can’t take it anymore.

“I love you,” Eddie blurts out around the lump in his throat, and stares up at Richie breathlessly.

Richie’s gaze snaps back up to his, his eyes wide and a little disbelieving. “God, Eds,” he gasps, sounding absolutely stunned, and suddenly his eyes are wet again. “I love you, too,” he manages in a strained voice, and brings the back of Eddie’s hand up to his mouth to press a kiss there. His lips are trembling as he drags Eddie’s hand up even further to hide his face, and he sniffles quietly, exhaling shakily, like he really can’t believe this is happening right now.

Eddie can’t believe it either, and he lets out a giddy little laugh as he says, “That’s good,” a little fuzzily. “Because I’m not sure what I would have done if you hadn’t said it back,” he teases quietly, laughing again. Richie laughs too, the sound a little sniffly as he starts to cry for real, the feeling of warm tears starting to drip against Eddie’s hand.

Normally, he’d be grossed out about it, but this is Richie he’s talking about, and he’d put up with anything just for Richie not to let go of him again.

“Yeah, it’s not like you can run away right now,” Richie attempts to tease back, but his voice is hoarse and he has to clear his throat three times to get the words out around what seems to be a lump in his throat.

If he could, Eddie would shuffle closer to Richie, but whatever medication they’re pumping through him, Eddie can hardly feel his own body anymore.

“Eds?” Richie asks abruptly, finally lowering Eddie’s hand from his face. He places both their hands down gently on the bed, still holding on tight, and leans in close like there’s something he wants to say. Eddie smiles dopily up at him, waiting, and Richie laughs. “Oh my god, look at you,” he mutters to himself, and reaches up to cup Eddie’s face tenderly in the palm of his hand. Eddie nuzzles against it a little.

“Nevermind,” Richie finally says, shaking his head indulgently at Eddie, “You should sleep,” he suggests sweetly, rubbing the pad of his thumb against Eddie’s cheek. “I’ll be here when you wake up,” Richie adds in a reassuring tone.

“Promise?” Eddie croaks out, trying not to whine.

“I promise, Eds,” Richie whispers lovingly, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Eddie nods his head approvingly, still staring up a little dreamily at Richie. He knows Richie is right, he probably should sleep, but he doesn’t want to stop looking at Richie yet. He never wants to stop looking at Richie, has never wanted to stop looking at Richie — not from the moment Eddie met him. And now he doesn’t have to.

Which reminds him.

“Rich?” Eddie asks, blinking in an attempt to focus. His brain feels all foggy, and it’s beginning to grow really difficult to concentrate.

“Hmm?” Richie replies when Eddie doesn’t immediately continue, reminding Eddie that he’s trying to tell Richie something.

“L.A.,” Eddie breathes, shaking his head to clear some of the fog, “Need an apartment in L.A.,” he elaborates as best he can, trying to articulate the I’m never leaving you again that he’s too tired to verbalize.

Richie is silent for a long time, and then he says, “You’re coming to L.A.?”

Eddie smiles, and lets out a huff of a breath. “Yeah, asshole,” he mumbles, trying and failing to concentrate long enough to have this conversation. He blinks his eyes at Richie in an attempt to look at him, and watches as Richie’s face splits open into a grin. His eyes are fond as he cards back some of Eddie’s hair from his face.

“Yeah?” Richie teases him, eyes glittering, “What for?”

Eddie wants to roll his eyes so badly, but he doesn’t know if he manages it. “For you, fucknuts,” he says, aiming for patronizing and landing more on affectionate. Richie laughs at him, but it’s fond.

“So you wanna go apartment hunting, then?” Richie asks him in a tone that Eddie would normally consider teasing, except he can’t figure out what he’s being teased about. Frowning, Eddie nods his head. “I know a place,” Richie assures him with a laugh, “But there’s just one catch,” he explains.

Even more confused now, Eddie asks, “What?”

“It’s actually a house, and I’m already living in it,” Richie replies proudly.

Eddie blinks a couple of times in confusion, trying to piece together what Richie’s getting at, and then snorts inelegantly. “Shut the fuck up, Richie,” Eddie gripes at him, but he’s grinning as he lets his eyes slip closed, finally feeling like he can sleep peacefully now that everything important is settled.

Richie is still laughing at him when Eddie feels the medication starting to pull him under. He’s just giving in to it when Richie boops his nose and asks him, “You good with that, Eds?” in a tone so full of confidence that Eddie wants to smack him.

Instead, Eddie fights to open his eyes and fixes Richie with a look that he hopes is at least a little bit alluring. “‘Course, Rich,” he mumbles sleepily, the words almost a slur as he offers Richie a smile. “It’s got you,” he breathes affectionately, and laughs when Richie immediately turns bright red.

Instead he says, “‘Course, Rich,” as sweetly as he can manage, peering up at Richie enticingly. “It’s got you,” he murmurs coyly, and laughs when Richie immediately turns bright red.

**

6 months later

It takes a month after Eddie moves into Richie’s house in L.A. for the Losers to make arrangements for them all to come out and visit them on a Friday and stay for the weekend. Eddie knows they would have come sooner, but between Eddie getting settled in, Mike’s tour of the United States, and Bev’s divorce and subsequent re-settling of her company, it’s been a bit difficult planning a time that works for all six of them.

Unfortunately for Eddie, the Losers are set to arrive within an hour of his last physical therapy appointment for the week, and while Eddie had wanted to reschedule it, Richie had been quick to put his foot down. He’d made the point that Eddie’s physical therapy appointments were more important than looking nice for their friends, and while Eddie knew Richie was right, that didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.

He’s been in physical therapy for nearly six months now, something the doctors had started about a week after Eddie had woken up. As it turns out, Myra hadn’t been lying when she’d told Eddie the doctors weren’t sure he’d ever walk again, but he’s been making some pretty significant progress. In fact, he’s able to rely on his cane rather than his wheelchair for longer and longer periods of time now, and while the doctors say he’ll probably need some level of support from his cane for the rest of his life, Eddie is at the very least excited to have a sense of independence again.

Eddie knows it’s his hard work that’s gotten him this far, but he’s thankful for Richie’s voice of reason on days when Eddie can’t work up the energy to fight against his own limitations, and he’s glad to have Richie around to remind him just how important his physical therapy is, even if it does suck.

So now, he's in their bedroom attempting to quickly get changed out of his physical therapy clothes and into a nice pair of jeans and a collared shirt that Richie had laid out for him.

“Bill just texted me!” Richie shouts down the hall, his voice muffled through the walls but steadily moving closer as he continues, “He just caught a cab. He said he’ll be here in about twenty minutes!”

“Sounds good!” Eddie huffs back, finally managing to kick himself out of his sweatpants. His legs are still sort of shaking from the last hour of his workout routine, because his therapist has really started pushing him thanks to all the progress Eddie has made. Unfortunately, it also means that Eddie tends to come home extremely exhausted.

He’s just managed to grab his jeans when Richie turns the corner into their room with a huge smile on his face. He doesn’t offer to help Eddie get dressed, which Eddie is grateful for — sometimes he just wants to do things on his own, even though he knows Richie would jump at the chance to help him if Eddie so much as asked.

“What’s up?” Eddie asks, arching a brow at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be cleaning the living room?” Eddie grunts at him as he shoves his trembling legs into his jeans and begins to pull them up.

“All done,” Richie says with a shrug, nodding his head back towards the front living room. “I’ve vacuumed, taken out the trash, and cleaned up all the shit that should have been in the office,” he explains proudly.

“Thanks, Rich,” Eddie grunts, exhaling sharply as his legs spasm painfully and he’s forced to relax his body onto the bed. He’s got the jeans up to his thighs now, bunched just under his ass, and he’s temporarily given up. He knows he’s going to have to use his aching abs to lift his ass off the bed to get the jeans the rest of the way on, and he just isn’t ready to put in that energy right now. “What about the guest room?” he asks, turning his full attention onto Richie.

Richie nods his head immediately. “It’s all set for Ben and Bev. Brand new sheets and everything,” he reassures Eddie, leaning in the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest, a challenging look on his face. Eddie narrows his eyes at him.

“And the air mattress?” he asks.

“Sitting in the office ready to be blown up before bedtime. And,” he exclaims brightly, waggling his eyebrows, “I’ve even set out pillows and blankets for both the air mattress and the pull-out. Sexy, right?” Richie teases.

Eddie laughs and rolls his eyes fondly, but it really is kind of sexy that Richie had thought ahead about all of this before Eddie could even ask him to do it. It’s just that they don’t have a lot of room to host their friends and they’re working with what they have. Richie’s place isn’t the largest of their friends’ houses by a long shot, and definitely isn’t the first place any of them would have picked to have a group sleepover, but Eddie’s still recovering and not really up for traveling, so all of their friends have graciously agreed to come to L.A. for the weekend.

“What about the others?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder at the clock on their bedside table. “When are they expecting to arrive?”

Richie hums and pulls out his phone to check his messages. His hair hangs cutely in his face, and if he were closer, Eddie would push it back with his fingers and comb through it. “Mike said he just got off the 90 freeway, so he’ll probably arrive about the same time as Bill, and Bev said she and Ben will be here in five minutes about… three minutes ago!” Richie replies cheerfully, grinning like a cheshire cat when he meets Eddie’s gaze.

“What the fuck, Richie?” Eddie chastises him, suddenly finding the burst of adrenaline needed to yank his pants up over his ass. He manages to balance himself on the balls of his feet in an attempt not to strain his abs too much, and gets his jeans all the way on, all while Richie laughs at him. “Why didn’t you warn me!?” Eddie yells at him breathlessly, sitting back down on the bed, red in the face. He thinks he can feel a cramp forming in his right calf, and decides that tonight is definitely a wheelchair kind of a night.

“Relax, Spagheads,” Richie shushes him, still chuckling lightly. His eyes are shining brightly as he pushes off the doorway to meet Eddie on the bed. He settles in close until he’s standing between Eddie’s legs, and wraps his arms around Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie cranes his neck back to stare at him. “You know they wouldn’t care if you’d stayed in your sweatpants and workout shirt, right?” Richie asks him softly, head tilted in a way that Eddie refuses to think of as cute.

Grumbling, Eddie shrugs his shoulders and says, “Yeah, but the last time any of them saw me, I was still in the hospital wearing that stupid plastic gown.”

The rest of the Losers had been quick to come back and visit Eddie after he’d woken up, and they’d kept up the visits the entire five months he’d been stuck in Derry, though he wasn’t great company and they couldn’t stay long. It had still been nice.

“I’m sure they’re going to miss that sexy sight,” Richie quips back, winking playfully at Eddie and reminding him rather abruptly about the way Richie used to stare at his ass through the stupid open back of the gown.

“Shut up, Richie,” Eddie complains, reaching out to swat ineffectually at his chest. Richie might have enjoyed the view, but Eddie’s pretty certain nobody else had.

Richie laughs, and before Eddie can land a strike, Richie catches Eddie’s wrist and leans in to kiss him.

It’s a quick kiss, more of a peck than anything else, and it leaves Eddie dissatisfied. He immediately pouts at Richie and tugs on his wrist in an attempt to pull Richie back in.

“So needy,” Richie teases, though he goes willingly. Eddie growls at him but chooses not to reply, instead drawing Richie in to press their lips back together again. He nips playfully at Richie’s bottom lip and sighs, tilting his head just so to deepen the kiss.

Eddie hasn’t let Richie get away with a peck like that since the first few weeks of their relationship when Richie seemed too terrified to do anymore, and now Eddie takes every chance he can get to deepen their kisses.

Richie pretends to hate it, but the secretive smile he walks away with every time isn’t nearly as secretive as he thinks it is.

“Come on, grumpy pants,” Richie says as he pulls away, the soft suction of their lips parting making Eddie shiver. “I think I just heard Ben and Bev pull up.”

Eddie frowns, but lets go of Richie. “I’ll never understand how you can hear shit all the way outside from here,” Eddie mutters and pushes himself to his feet.

“It’s because I’m blind, Eds,” Richie replies cheerfully, offering Eddie his hand wordlessly. Eddie takes it, but only because his legs are still shaking. “The rest of my senses have to work double time to make up for it.”

“You’re not blind, Rich, what the fuck,” Eddie mutters back, taking three shaky steps over to where he’d left his wheelchair next to the bed. He collapses into it gratefully and releases Richie’s hand. “And that’s not how it works,” he adds matter-of-factly.

“I might as well be,” Richie shoots back just as the doorbell rings. He drops one last kiss onto Eddie’s lips as Eddie gets himself settled in his wheelchair, and then turns to answer the door. Eddie watches him go with a small smile on his face, so fucking thankful that he gets to have this.

After everything he’s been through, he feels like he deserves at least this much.

It seems to take no time at all for the rest of their friends to arrive once Richie has let Ben and Bev in, and then they’re all squeezing in around Richie’s dining table. Richie ordered take-out — not Chinese — and filled up everyone’s glasses with the fancy wine from his wine cabinet. Eddie isn’t partaking because he’s still on a couple of medications and despite Richie reassuring him one glass of wine isn’t going to hurt him, Eddie isn’t willing to risk it.

Conversation starts out light that night, the focus more on how Eddie is settling in than his actual recovery, and Bev takes it upon herself to tease Richie mercilessly.

“Married life really suits you, Trashmouth,” she jokes, nudging him in the shoulder with her own, and subsequently knocking Richie’s body into Eddie’s. Eddie turns to glare at her balefully for it, but his lips are twitching uncontrollably at her tone of voice. “I didn’t know you could be so domestic. You’re quite the little housewife,” she teases him, gesturing broadly around the kitchen, and then nudging her chin out towards the living room. “I honestly assumed you must live in a pigsty, but Eddie has done a great job whipping you into shape.”

Richie gasps mock-offendedly, and says, “Why I never!” in a southern drawl, pitching his voice up high. “I don’t know what you are trying to insinuate,” he says primly, “But I assure you that I am a proper lady, and I don’t need no man to tell me how to behave!”

Eddie dissolves into giggles at the voice, leaning into Richie’s side and soaking in his warmth as the rest of them start to laugh too. Bill sounds as if he’s dying he’s laughing so hard, and Bev is giggling into Ben’s shoulder, her eyes wet with tears. Richie throws his arm over Eddie’s shoulders, and drags him in even closer, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head.

Eddie tries to roll his eyes at the casual affection, aware that Mike is staring straight at him, but he can’t muster up any real annoyance and recognizes that the expression falls flat. With the way that Mike smiles at him, Eddie knows that he isn’t fooling anyone.

“Oh my god, you two are so cute,” Bev coos once she’s gotten herself back under control, and she props her chin in her hand to stare happily at them. Eddie immediately turns bright red and frowns at her.

“Not cute,” he mutters at the same time as Richie says, “Cute, cute, cute!” and pinches Eddie’s cheeks. Eddie turns and knocks Richie’s hand away from his face, and then shoves his wrist down onto the table. Richie is laughing even as he moans “ow, ow, ow, ow, Eddie!” but Eddie doesn’t let him go.

“You know I hate it when you do that!” Eddie whines, carefully avoiding looking at their friends. He can already imagine the looks on their faces, and Eddie is embarrassed, dammit! It’s bad enough when Richie calls him cute when they’re by themselves and Eddie can’t hide the way it makes him feel — it’s even worse to have their friends witness the way it makes Eddie absolutely melt for Richie.

“I’m surprised you haven’t killed him yet,” Ben jokes, staring meaningfully at the way Eddie is still holding down Richie’s hand.

“Believe me, it’s a close call at least three times a day,” Eddie replies dryly, finally releasing him. Richie draws his hand up to his chest to cradle it gently, making exaggerated wounded eyes at Eddie that Eddie ignores.

“Eddie,” Richie whines, pouting at him, “You’re so mean to me,” he complains, knocking their shoulders together again. Rolling his eyes, Eddie leans in and smacks a quick kiss against Richie’s cheek until Richie wilts into him, smiling like an idiot.

Bev coos again, and Bill makes a retching sound. Eddie does his best to ignore them and grabs his water to sip at it, hiding his blush against the glass.

“Stan would hate you guys so much,” Mike laughs, shaking his head at the two of them, his voice only a little bit forced. He swallows thickly as he meets everyone else’s gazes, and says, “He’d say you’re disgusting, but we all know he’d really mean ‘I love you,’” Mike adds affectionately.

It takes a beat, but the rest of them laugh quietly as well, if a little solemnly, and glance at the empty table setting Richie had put out. He’d said they couldn’t have a proper Losers club meeting without Stan, and despite the way it had made Eddie feel at the time to see Richie preparing a seat that wouldn’t be filled, he’s grateful for it now. Eddie reaches over and squeezes Richie’s thigh, resting his hand there gently.

“I miss him,” Ben whispers softly, offering everyone a small smile.

“We all do,” Bill agrees quietly. They all quiet down for a moment, just soaking in the moment, thinking of Stan, before Bill finally clears his throat. Slowly, he raises his glass of wine into the air and says, “To Stan!”

“To Stan!” the rest of them say in unison, lifting their glasses in his honor.

After a long swallow, they each place their glasses back down onto the table, and smile at each other. Richie reaches down to squeeze Eddie’s thigh, and Eddie smiles up at him.

“So,” Ben starts, the first to interrupt the silence, “How are you doing, Eddie? Are you settling in okay?” he asks, waving his fork around in the air at them. The others nod their head in unison, repeating Ben’s question in one form or another:

“Richie better be treating you well,” says Bill.

“Are you sleeping alright?” asks Bev.

“How’s California treating you?” asks Mike.

Eddie smiles up at his friends and nods his head. “I’m good,” he replies, “I’m really good. California is… exactly what I needed,” he hedges, and, avoiding Richie’s eye, adds, “So is Richie.”

Eddie can feel it when Richie turns to look at him, and he doesn’t have to see Richie’s face to know what it’s doing — Richie has this way of looking at Eddie like he’s still in awe that he gets to have this, and Eddie doesn’t know what do with himself everytime he sees it. It’s an overwhelming feeling for both of them.

“Aww baby,” Richie murmurs, leaning in close to press a kiss to his cheek. He’s smiling, and it makes him smile too. “I knew you loved me,” Richie continues, and it’s obvious he’s attempting to sound teasing for their friends, but the words come out too sincere for anyone to fall for it.

Eddie’s heart flutters, and he feels his insides go all gooey, but the moment he catches sight of the looks on his friends faces — amused but affectionate — he squirms under the attention.

“Get off me,” Eddie grumbles, shoving at Richie’s chest lightly, his cheeks on fire. Richie doesn’t fight him, just laughs affectionately and pulls away without saying another word.

“I’m so happy for both of you,” Bev says warmly, her eyes shining. “You deserve to be happy,” she continues sincerely, reaching across the table to grasp Eddie’s hand in hers.

“Thanks, Bev,” Eddie manages to croak out in response, a lump in his throat, because while he knows what Bev is saying is true, it’s still difficult for him to internalize sometimes.

It’s Richie who eventually changes the subject, turning to the others and asking them what’s going on with them.

“Well, I’ve got a new contract in Dubai,” Ben tells them, shrugging modestly when the others cheer. “I’ve gotta head out there for a couple of weeks next Friday, so I won’t be around much, but…” he trails off, looks at Beverly softly, and reaches out to grasp tightly to her hand, like he doesn't want to leave her.

“But he’ll have cell reception, so don’t be afraid to harass him,” Beverly teases, gripping Ben back just as tightly.

Mike tells them about his tour of the United States, and how he’s been interviewing the locals everywhere he goes. He admits that he’s heard all kinds of amazing stories, and explains that he’s been thinking about starting a podcast.

“I just think that more people deserve to hear these stories,” Mike pitches hopefully, peering around at their friends like he wants their approval. “There’s so much culture out there that we’re missing out on, and I feel like if we just shared more of this stuff, there might not be so much violence in the world,” he continues passionately.

“I think you could really make a difference, man,” Richie says solemnly, and he shares a look with Mike like he understands exactly what it is that Mike is trying to do.

Mike meets his eyes, and nods at him, a silent conversation moving between them that Eddie isn’t privy to.

“And I’m about to launch my new summer line,” Bev announces excitedly, deftly avoiding the topic of the current legal minefield she’d been navigating for months surrounding both her divorce and her company. “All the designs are based on that summer,” she explains simply, obviously referring to the summer of ‘89 when all of this had started, “Because, despite everything, that was the best summer of my life.”

Eddie feels warm all the way down to his toes, because it was the best summer of his life too.

“Each look was inspired by one of you,” Bev admits brightly, and her eyes are sparkling as she looks at all of them, “and I fully plan on sending each of you your own special outfit.”

Eddie doesn’t even get the chance to consider what his might be before Bev meets Richie’s eye and winks at him. Eddie immediately lights up bright red, and turns a murderous glare onto Richie.

“I’ve got this really cute pair of little red shorts that I think will look amazing on you, Eds,” Bev teases all too knowingly.

“Richie,” Eddie hisses, but Richie isn’t looking at him. He’s an entirely darker shade of red than Eddie is — even brighter than those damn shorts were — and he doesn’t seem capable of meeting anyone’s gazes.

Eddie knows what Richie thought about those shorts — he’d admitted to Eddie that they’d kind of been Richie’s sexual awakening, and Eddie can’t even begin to imagine why he might have shared that information with Beverley, but he kind of wants to kill him for it.

It seems like all the rest of their friends seem to know as well, because as Eddie goes to kick Richie under the chair, the rest of their friends burst into amused laughter. Eddie doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry, and before he can launch into an argument with Richie over it, Richie cuts him off to pointedly, and very loudly, ask Bill, “So I heard you were offered another movie deal?”

Eddie slumps back in his seat, defeated. He’ll let Richie get away with it, for now at least. He makes no promises to himself about not bringing it up again when they go to bed.

“Oh, yeah!” Bill exclaims, as if he’d forgotten all about it. He composes himself quickly, red in the face from all of his laughing, and says, “That reminds me. The casting director asked me to let him know if I had any names in mind for any of the characters, and, well, if you’d be interested Rich…” Bill offers, trailing off and staring at Richie in question.

Completely distracted from his previous anger, Eddie looks at Richie with wide eyes, waiting for his answer, but Richie seems appropriately stunned. He stares at Bill blankly for a long moment, before bursting into a bright grin. “What, you want this ol’ mug to star in one of your movies, Bill?” Richie teases loudly, putting on a show. “You must really be desperate if you’re asking me,” he jokes, avoiding the question entirely with a self-deprecating joke. It’s obvious enough to all of them that Richie is deflecting, and the slight hysteria to Richie’s voice is answer enough for Bill, who merely grins at him.

“You can come down to the office with me on Monday, we can talk about it then,” he replies easily, turning away from Richie and changing the subject to the actual script for The Glowing and how he’s already thinking about a new ending for the movie.

Eddie reaches over to squeeze Richie’s fingers between his, but doesn’t say a word. He’s just thankful to Bill for the offer, because in the last few months, Richie’s been doing a lot of voice acting gigs, and has admitted to wanting to try his hand at acting. Eddie doesn’t know if Bill knows that, but even if he didn’t, the offer means a lot to both of them.

The conversation continues jovially, with Richie mocking Bill for his terrible endings, and Ben piping in with suggestions for the set. Eddie sits back quietly and watches, sipping at his glass of water. He takes a moment, when the others are distracted, to check in with himself the way his new therapist has been pushing him to do over the past few weeks.

He feels good, content to have all of his friends here surrounding him. It’s something he’d nearly given up in that weird, liminal space he’d inhabited while he was in a coma, and he’s so fucking glad that he chose to live, because he’s never been happier.

#reddie #reddie fanfic #Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak #it fanfiction

[skullrock]

the lie

gif by @harringtown​

pairing: Steve x Reader

summary: Steve lets out a big lie to prove Mike Wheeler wrong, but it ends in his favor. (aka, the one time Steve Harrington thanked Mike Wheeler for anything.)

warnings: swears!

word count: 1.4k

a/n: this one is for @sourapplebaby luv u Syl

===

Steve knew he fucked up as soon as the words fell out of his mouth.

“Why isn’t Y/N here?”

“She has work,” Steve says. “She has a life outside of your basement, Mike.”

“Unlike you,” Mike retorts.

“Can everybody just calm down?” Will says quietly.

“When are you guys getting married?” Dustin asks, propping his head up on his hands.

A cacophony of voices ring out, Max and El’s the loudest.

“Yeah!”

“When is it gonna happen?”

“You guys are so cute!”

“Steve couldn’t get married if his life depended on it.”

“Shut up,” Steve hisses at Mike. “I am getting married, so there.”

Steve nearly slapped his hand over his mouth, guilt creeping over him. It’s the biggest lie of the century, but Mike is not allowed to win this one.

The room is deathly quiet until everyone erupts in cheers. Dustin tackles Steve, beating on him, shouting, “I knew you could do it!”

“She said yes? You’re really engaged?” Max asks, holding El’s hand as she bounces in her seat. “When did this happen?”

“Week ago,” Steve says quickly.

Mike’s eyes narrow. “So you’re really engaged.”

Steve doubles down, digging himself deeper into the absolute shitfest that was sure to spike from this. “I am.”

“So if I asked your girlfriend - excuse me, fiancée- she would be able to affirm?”

Steve nods. “That’s right.”

But, of course, Steve runs home and calls Robin immediately, unsure of how to go forward.

“I fucked up,” he admits.

“Typical. What happened?”

He explains the situation, and Robin scoffs. “Steve, you lied about something this big to - piss off a sixteen year old?”

Steve sighs heavily. “That’s correct.”

“You’re such a moron -“

“What am I supposed to do, Robin?”

Robin is dumbfounded. “Tell them that you lied? Tell her that you lied? Tell everyone that you lied?”

“No,” Steve says sadly. “Can’t do any of that.”

“Then what, Steve? What are you going to do when Mike confronts her?”

“You’re no help,” he groans. “You’re supposed to fix it for me.”

“Got yourself into this one, get yourself out of it.”

Robin hangs up, leaving Steve in silence.

There’s another reason why Steve is freaking out - the idea of being engaged made him excited.

It wasn’t something he really thought about. He wanted to marry you, of course, he just never anticipated when he’d do it. But it seems as good a time as any. You’d been together for three years. He knew that he was desperately, madly, completely in love with you. He knows he can envision having a family with you, in a little house in the suburbs of the city, with a cat and a dog and a big yard.

It all hits him at once, making his head spin. It was simply too much for him - he decides to push it down and stay silent about it all. You won’t find out, right?

===

You open your door to find Max and El on the porch. They grin widely as they see you.

“Ooh, look who it is,” Max croons.

You nod, confused. “It’s me.”

“Yeah, future Mrs. Steve,” El says.

“No, El - it would be future Mrs. Harringtown, or whatever his last name is.”

“Oh -“

You furrow your brows. “What are you two talking about?”

“How you’re engaged!” Max shakes her head. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

You stare at her with wide eyes. Steve had never proposed - holy shit, did he propose? Were you half awake when he did and you said yes? Were you tuning out his basketball talk when he asked and you just nodded absentmindedly?

No way, you think, looking down at your left hand. No ring, no proposal!

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know I was engaged,” you say slowly. “Who told you I was?”

El and Max look at each other, their eyes as wide as yours. “Steve did.”

“Steve told you that we were engaged?” Your voice is hoarse. “Steve told you? My boyfriend Steve? Harrington?”

“Just last night,” El says. “He told us at Mike’s.”

“Are you saying you’re not engaged?” Max asks.

You shake your head in disbelief. “I gotta go. I’ll see you both later.”

When you shut the door, Max looks at El. “Don’t tell Mike, he’ll have a power trip.”

===

Steve comes over later to see you, and you confront him right off the bat. His foot is hardly over the threshold when you ask, “Can you explain something to me?”

Steve shuts the door quietly, pupils widening. “Perhaps.”

“Can you tell me why Max and El came over today to ask why I didn’t tell them we were engaged?”

Steve blinks, then forces out a pitifully fake laugh. “What? Who would ever say that? I have no idea who told them something so silly.”

“Really? Because they told me they had heard it from you.”

Steve falters, then sighs. “I can explain.”

“You can’t just tell people that we’re engaged, Steve! You can’t just - just make that up!” You start to pace. “I mean - shit, Steve. I wanna marry you - of course I do - but you can’t just decide we’re getting married.”

He tries to interrupt. “Y/N -“

“I’d at least like a proposal, Steve, or a real talk about our futures before you start saying that -“

“Y/N -“

You turn your back to him, pacing again. “And you shouldn’t have children coming to tell me the good news. I think I should know about my engagement before them, don’t you think?”

He’s suddenly quiet, so you ask, “What are you doing?”

Nothing. You turn to face him, and he’s suddenly kneeling in front of you, a box in his hand.

Your mouth drops and your brows furrow. Your eyes well up with tears before you can even process what’s happening. “Steve, what are you doing?”

“Having a real talk about our future.”

Steve’s never been so nervous in his entire life. His body and his hands shake, but he starts talking. “My parents were never in love. I never had any kind of healthy perception of what love is. I only got some ideas from movies and my shitty friends.” He swallows. “So for a long time, I thought love wasn’t real, or it was this unattainable thing.

“But then I met you. And suddenly, the movies made sense. My mom used to play me these vintage romance movies, and she’d always tell me that a love like that never existed. But she’s wrong.” He shrugs. “About a lot of things, but especially this.” He sighs. “Okay, shit, my knee is hurting -“

“Steve -“

“I’m not done!” He smiles. “I never thought I had a future, either. I thought I was destined for the worst. My first job burned to the ground, I got roped into fucked up stuff, I have nightmares ... I thought my life was hopeless. But now, I can see a future. I can see us with a little girl and a picket fence, and a dog named Romeo. I can see so many pictures of us - of our family on the walls.” Steve licks his lips. “I can reach out and touch it, Y/N. Because it’s right there. And it’s real.”

You kneel down with him, watching him pop open the box. It’s a beautiful ring, one that’s old and storied and ready to be used again.

“I did get this from my mom,” he admits. “It was my great grandmother’s, or something. She said it was art decal.”

You laugh tearfully. “Deco.”

“Whatever,” he smiles. He takes a deep breath. “Will you have a future with me?”

You throw yourself onto him and he falls back, slamming against the carpet. Neither of you care, though - you kiss him passionately, nodding the entire time. Against his lips, you whisper, “yes, yes, yes!”

Steve feels like he just won the lottery. Like he’s the luckiest man on earth. He’s light as air, happier than he’s ever felt. It’s like he’s invincible, radiant, unstoppable. Like he’s home, like he belongs, like things are finally going to work out.

“This isn’t how it was supposed to go, by the way,” he jokes, sitting up. “But I needed to get you to shut up somehow.”

Steve slides the ring on, and it fits nicely. You laugh in shock and happiness. “I’m getting married!”

“Me too!” he laughs, tearing up. “We’re gonna do it!”

You reach out and wipe some of his tears away, caressing his cheek. “Steve, I love you so much.”

He takes your hand, pressing a kiss into your palm. “I love you more.”

“Not possible.”

“Wanna bet?”

And, as much as Steve hates it, he gives a silent thank you to Mike Wheeler.

===

taglist: @harrington-ofhawkins @comedy-witch @gothackedalready @wolfish-willow @sassisaluxury @willowrose99 @harringtown @write-from-the-heart​ @m-blasterrr​ @whimsicalwoodlands @anerroroccurrrrred​ @marvels-gurl​ @the-almond-dinger @ssanjuniperoo​ @darth-el​ @sourapplebaby @yall-wildin-like-siriusly @andyl394 @astil-be @troop-scoop @ilovebucketbarnes @mybestfriendthedingus @unknownherelm @metuel18 @magnitude101999 @simplesammyx @lukeskisses @stevenismyboy

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic

[soulwillower]

heart eyes • bill denbrough

(bill denbrough x reader smut)

requested: no ;)

warnings: swearing, smut, oral (fem receiving), body worship!!, fluff, road trip w the losers, underage drinking, body shots, praise kink bc its me, a lil dirty talk, this one is kinda tame, its fluffy :) ALSO THIS IS SO UNEDITED SORRY

i was going through all my writing and i found this smut i wrote a while ago!! im p sure its the first smut i ever wrote n i never posted it, i figured i would rn :)

[losers + reader are aged up 18+ in this.]

6.2k words lol

♡

“i mean this trip would’ve been fun, no matter what. listen! guys, i love you! and... and i fucking love that we don’t always have to be inebriated to have fun.” stan exclaims, gangly limbs sprawled on the floor as ben starts giggling. stan pays no mind, “but listen, listen. i am soooo happy that we brought this stuff though, you know?” stan continues to babble on drunkenly, eliciting giggles from all the kids in the room. he’s waving an almost empty bottle of smirnoff. you giggle softly.

thankfully, ben had actually managed to sweet talk a coworker from the diner in order to score the losers a few handles of alcohol, and you’d nearly finished off the smirnoff and all are a few hearty swigs into the bottle of strawberry burnett’s and fireball.

your cheeks are very red.

you know your cheeks are burning.

but bill’s loose arm around your waist has your skin burning even hotter. you don’t want to think of it as anything more than platonic, because with a quick glance to your right, you see his other arm holding eddie in the same fashion. you're just friends, and always have been.

bill is just a very outgoing and flirty person when drunk.  

and if you had voiced this aloud, bill denbrough would probably have had to agree. he barely felt his arm where it lay across eddie, but his arm that was cradling you feels like it is dead weight.

god, he’s got it so fucking bad for you. the conversation lulls as a familiar tune plays through the speaker, making most losers scrunch their nose and laugh. y/n and richie, as always, have other plans.

not even a measure into the song, richie screeches and pulls you into his chest, already swaying you as your alluring voices blend together as perfectly as they always do.

the two drunkenly sing together for the entire duration of the song, serenading each other in a sweet, albeit weird (in a way, bill decides, that only richie and you can achieve) fashion. the lanky boy twirls you around, and you're giggling and laughing and smiling so brightly, and the others are all smiling happily.

and bill just knows, looking from richie’s face, to stan, then mike, bev, ben, and then to eddie right next to him, that everybody in the room has just fallen a little more in love with you.

you're a fucking angel. just like heaven…

and, knowing deep down that it was highly unlikely, bill still hoped he could some day call that angel his own.

-

bill takes a moment to breathe as the seven of his best friends huddle in the weak circle they’ve formed after quite a few drinks.

the speaker plays soft music. the kind of music - you recall loudly to everyone with a smile - that ‘stanny’ plays in his own car on days in the summer when he lets you roll down the passenger side window and stick your feet out as they speed down the town roads.

“you know why-“ mike starts, interrupting himself with a hiccup. he giggles, and bill smiles. “-you know why i love you?” he says, question directed at ben. ben chuckles, face red from the contents of his near empty cup, and shrugs.

“no, wait, i’m not drunk enough for the sappy stuff.” you whine, biting your lip as you glances over to bill.

he averts his eyes, chastising himself in his head immediately after for being a little schoolboy.

“fine, y/l/n. truth or dare?” mike says with a cheeky smile. richie hollers and you scoff, shaking your head. across the room, eddie does the same.

“c’mon, mikey… i haven’t played that since sophomore year.” you say, face revealing a teasing smile which betrays your tone. bev shrugs, leaning back into ben’s chest. “dunno, could be fun.” she says.

bill watches closely as y/n sends a long look to bev, who shoots her best friend a suggestive glance.

bill wishes sometimes that he could hear beverly and y/n’s thoughts and secret conversations, but after a flash memory of the time when he walked in (after listening to silence for nearly three minutes before entering) on the two girls staring at the other in complete silence, he shivers and retracts that wish.

those girls were creepily telekinetic.

y/n’s sigh pulls bill back to earth. “fine.” you say, rolling your eyes and sounding bored. bill knew better than to believe y/n could really be bored. he stares at your body as you take a hefty swig from your cup, wiping your mouth and slurring, “truth.”

“out of all the people in this room, whose clothing style would you choose to swap with?” mike asks after some moments of silence. you look like you're thinking very, very hard and this makes bill laugh in drunken stupor. his friends shoot him a confused look, but attention quickly lies back on y/n.

“stan, maybe. or eddie bear.” y/n says, flopping into eddie’s lap, making him blush and card his fingers through your hair. “I love all those cute shorts.” you say, throwing a wink in richie’s direction.

bill has to laugh at the expression on the curly haired boy’s face. he has to admit, though, that eddie looks fucking great in those shorts. the two boys both respond idly, though, and the game continues, getting dumber and more risqué the more drinks they share.

mike admits to wearing briefs over boxers, bev admits that the first girl she kissed was y/n. ben has to jump into the broken hot tub, and eddie takes a body shot off of richie.

"bill, who do you think is the best kisser?" bev smirks, shooting a look that he doesn't understand but, on a much more transcendental level, understands too well.

"if you don't say me, i'll be mad." richie says, making kissy faces that make ben push the side of his face away with a chuckle. bill laughs lightly, but his lips move quicker than his brain. "y/n, probably."

seven pairs of eyes land on him and he blinks, face heating until he's surely a tomato. "wh-what? you a-asked." he says awkwardly, and to change the subject, stan clears his throat, "y/n's turn!"

bill shoots him a grateful look, but stan gives him a stare that screams make a move, dumbass.

"okay, dare." you mumble, cheeks slightly dark and a sweet grin on your lips.

“'kay. i dare you...” richie trails off as something catches his drunken eyesight away in the kitchen. he starts to giggle to himself, then. “take a body shot off of bill.” he says, pointing a bony finger at the innocent girl to bill’s left.

bill’s face pales at this, but the liquid courage has him pulling off his shirt at the encouragement of the others merely moments later.

“i’ve yet to take an actual body shot before.” y/n mumbles, explaining how you've always done them off shoulders or necks.

“lick, shoot, suck.” bill mumbles, staring at the ceiling. bill hears bev giggle quietly.

“don’t forget that last part, y/n.” richie piped up from across the room, the words being followed by a thud and a soft grunt.

“i couldn’t if i tried, rich.” you mumbles as your face comes into view. bill can only smirk up at you when he feels liquid pour into his navel.

“he’s gotta be flexing right now. there’s no way he’s that naturally ripped!” richie complains, his voice looted in a joke. ben laughs as bev slaps richie’s arm.

"sh-shut up, richie." bill mutters with an easy grin.

bill slips a lime wedge into his mouth and his tongue falls upon the rind, tasting the muted citrus flavor as salt is sprinkled in the stretched of his skin between his belly button and his waistband.

 if he wasn't drunk, he'd be a blushing mess.

and he has to try harder than he's ever tried for anything in his entire life to not get hard as you suddenly lean over him, your hot tongue poking out to lick a stripe up the salt.

 he suppresses a groan and then you shoot the shot from his stomach, everyone screaming and cheering and laughing. you're laughing too, and bill's shocked into a stupor by how casually and effortlessly beautiful you are.

you're leaning towards his face now, a soft smile on your face as your lips fall to pluck the lime from his mouth. but before you pull all the way back, he feels your soft lips touch his around the wedge and his whole body ignites, cheeks turning red.

but just as quickly as you were there, you're gone and he's left with the faint taste of lime and a heaving chest, the feeling of your tongue on his body ingrained into his mind.

-

it was about thirty minutes later that all the losers retreated to their rooms to pass out, bill following you a few steps behind. of course, when eddie and bev had planned the sleeping arrangements, they'd insisted that you two share a room. not that he's complaining, not at all.

bill barely gets a minute into the door before you're turning and stepping closer to him. his hands fall to your arms, in his mind as an excuse to steady you, but he knows its because he really just wants to feel you in his arms.

“do you really want to kiss me?” you purr, voice uncharacteristically quiet. and wow, that was out of left field. bill almost laughs, but refrains in case the inebriated girl in his arms took it the wrong way.  “yes, y/n. a-always.”

you beam, a slight hiccup escaping your cherry lips as you get on your tippy toes. you're still half a head shorter than him even on your tips.

his heart thumps as he takes in your beautiful features up close, and he longs to feel your lips against his.

but, instead he shakes his head gently through his drunken state. your face falls and you step back. bill swears the angel’s wings start to droop and wilt as you seem to sober up slightly. you look sad and embarrassed and bill’s heart shatters a fragment.

“y-you’re drunk.” he says lamely, wishing that own his drunk eyes would get on board with his brain and quit running over this girl’s beautiful face and enticing curves. “w-we both a-are.” he adds, biting his lip.

you huff, turning around and bending over to pull sweats out of a drawer. “okay,” you mumble and he can’t read your voice much but he can tell you're upset.

in a drunk thought, he realizes he may never fully understand you.

bill bites his lip at the sight of your perky ass displayed like that in front of him and he wants to smack himself as he feels the familiar heat in his abdomen, turning around to give you privacy as you change.

he doesn’t turn around, as much as you both want him to.

richie once claimed that bill was hornier than he was, and while then he’d laughed especially hard at that claim, bill currently cursed richie a million times for being correct.

“would you reconsider if we were sober?” when a hand lands on bill’s shoulder, he turns to see you staring up at him, wearing a plain blue and white baseball tee and sweats.

it’s quiet for a moment. y/n holds your breath. bill himself lets out a breath after a moment. “you’re fucking beautiful.”

it’s not an answer to your question, even, but he says it before he even realizes it and the look on your face suddenly makes bill wish he could say things like that without stuttering forever if it meant it made you feel like that.

you turn bright red, head dropping down bashfully. you fail to hide your smile drop, though, and it makes bill feel slightly sick. “you don’t have to say that bill.” you whisper, sounding insecure. and then you slip under the dark green duvet of the bed.

bill tells himself that if he were sober, he’d speak up; have the courage to say all the things to you that his mind is constantly screaming.

you are fucking beautiful, everybody knows it..

all our friends see it...

mike once told me you were the hottest person in the school and that was before we even met you, now he also claims you’re the most thoughtful person in existence...

ben thinks you might be the smartest person in our generation...

bev is confident that you are going to change the world some day...

richie calls you his platonic soulmate...and says that you have second most  rockin’ bod (second only because he’s trying to mack on eddie)...

eddie tells me every day how much he looks up to you and how much he admires your strength...

stan once told me that he’d marry you in a heartbeat...

(i think i’m falling for you...)

(and i hope you feel the same...)

your eyes look so innocent...but i know you’re not...

your lips look like they taste like candy...

you are so fucking pretty...

i want to put my dick in your mouth-

his last thought snaps him out of his drunken stupor and he quickly pulls on flannel pants and tugs off his shirt, not missing y/n’s eyes on his bare torso as he pulls on a shirt.

bill. you’re drunk, go to sleep, asshole.

he lays on the edge of the bed, turning off the lamp light and rubs his eyes. your eyes are closed, and you lay on your side, back facing him.

“i’m lucky t’have you, billy. we all are.” you mumble, and bill doesn’t even fight the bashful smile that climbs onto his face. you can’t seem him, anyways.

“g’night, billy.” you finish dreamily, snuggling the comforter and making bill swoon in the dark.

“g-goodnight, y/n.” he says quietly.

-

the next night was much more tame; the losers were worn out after a day of exploring and decided to go to the outdoor pool in the backyard of the b&b you'd rented. 

you sit on the couch by yourself, knowing bill was in your room because he didn't feel like swimming.  

but you were nervous to go in there, because you and bill hadn't been alone since last night when you'd basically confessed to him. and yeah, he'd sort of confessed back, but you could tell he was just trying to be considerate and not make it awkward for you or the rest of the losers.

with a sigh, you rising to your feet and padding to the closed door. soft music plays from the other end of the door and you smile as you hear bill hum quietly to bowie.

when you push the door open, bill’s figure is silhouetted by the faint orange glow that soaks the bedroom in gold and yellow light. crossing through the doorway softly, bill lifts his head and smiles softly.

you bite your lip at bill, who is sat dumbly on the edge of the bed, and it's quiet for a few moments but you know you're both thinking the same thing.

he stands to meet you only a few paces from his doorway, and he's so close to you that you have to tilt your head and stare up at him through dark lashes. his breath comes out like a whisper, and you feel desperate to know his lips again. but not like last night. you want all of him now - always. sober, drunk, sick, healthy, forever.

“bill..” you start, doe eyes searching his, as if trying to read him. he looks like he doesn’t know what to say because you both know the reason that your friends made you sleep together on this trip in this dim room and why he’s looking at you the way he is.

“please...” he whispers, a half smile on his face. his own voice cuts through the faint music playing through the silence. your lips lift in a smile at this. bill thinks you look the most beautiful he’s ever seen you.

he didn’t say anything but a plea, and yet you both know exactly what he’s saying. 

your heart soars, and you grab his neck and he crashes his lips to yours desperately, letting out a quiet moan of relief.

you’ve never had somebody like him. of the few relationships you’d managed to keep up for a decent amount of time, you've never known someone like you know him - he's your best friend, the most important person in your life, and your first real love.

that used to scare you, but as you reach your hand to grasp his neck and pull him closer, you realize that this feeling in your stomach may not be as dangerous and innapropriate as previously thought.

because bill denbrough kisses like he’s taking his dying breath, like he’s drowning and you're the last bit of air left in the entire world. he kisses you like a starved writer desperate for a muse. his adamant tongue parted your shaking lips and sent tremors along your skin, as you clutch his chest.

his hands start on your cheeks, his thumbs rubbing your cheekbones as he tilts your head gently to deepen the kiss.

slowly, just as slowly as you fell for him, he slides his hands down your sides and grips your lower back with one large hand, the other squeezing your hip as he pulls your hips to him.

when you pull away for a second, he’s got an earth shattering, face-blinding smile on his lips that almost makes you want to cry.

you've never felt this breathless in your life, especially just by one boy, and all you can do is allow him to press you against dresser and catch your lips with his. his lips slot against yours hotly, moving with a kind of boyish expertise that makes your fingers tingle from all the way up to where they're nestled into his hair.

his plump red lips, slick and glossy, pull away from you and you watch with your hands carded through his auburn hair as he ducks slightly lower and kisses your jawline and your legs feel like jelly because you cannot believe it's happening. a song still plays through bill’s speakers.

one of your hands runs down his clothed chest and you gasp, having to bite back a squeal of pleasant surprise when one of his hands squeezes your ass. at your yelp of pleasure, bill chuckles and then his teeth bite down on the hollow of your throat.

he lifts his head to meet your eyes but doesn’t apologize, instead opting to shoot you a cocky lift of a brow at your reaction.

but before you can even roll your eyes, his lips are back to working magic and you're breathless, the heat in your stomach coiling and making you desperate.

you quietly moan his name as his tongue follows in his teeth’s wake; your neck slowly becoming the most beautiful piece of art bill has ever created.

eventually he raises his head again, his green eyes stuck on your neck, admiring the thunderstorm he’s started, and its everything you can do to not collapse when you get the courage to push bill softly and walk him towards his bed, your lips pressing needily to his.

bill gently spins on his heels around you and pushes you instead onto the mattress, and you're suddenly laying below him with wide eyes.

and you're grabbing his flannel and tugging him on top of you.

for a while, as bill holds himself up above you with his forearms, all that either of you can hear is the melodic tune of heart eyes by coin flowing from bill’s speakers and the sweet noise of their hands exploring each other.

honestly, the first time was unintentional.

while trying to move up, bill slowly rocks his hips against you. you gasp at the feeling of his semi-hard on pressing against your core, and bill almost moans at the noise of you alone.

a small moan escapes your throat again when he does it once more and he pulls away, clearly trying to hide his smug expression.

his eyes trail to your button up, admiring the trail of blossoming hickies reaching from below your jaw to the hem of your sweater, near the top skin of your breasts.

“c-can i?” he asks softly, and your face flushes pink as you nod shyly.

his hands reach out and slowly he undoes the buttons of the sweater, lips pressing sweetly on each bit of skin exposed as he slips the sweater off your frame. his lips against your skin leaves goosebumps in their wake.

you swoon at this action, but as the garment falls from your shoulders, you cross your arms and looks away softly.

“you don’t have t-to huh-hide from me, sweetheart.”

a piano melody plays softly in the background as bill coos quietly, turning your jaw with his forefinger so you're forced make eye contact. “hey. you’re s-so perfect. a-and i’m so fucking l-lucky.” he whispers sincerely.

and even through the expiring sunlight, the golden streams illuminating your face reveal a smile- a genuine, toothy, blushy, bashful smile that makes bill beam in return.

“please. luh-let me show you how m-much you mean.” he whispers.

you're glad you have enough self control to not burst out crying at bill’s words. if you were unsure if he wanted you before, this was the confirmation you knew you didn’t even need. and you love it all the same.

“please,” you whine softly, blushing harder at the pure look of love and lust on bill’s handsome face.

as his lips and hands flutter around your torso, you take in his figure and the god-like aura created by the music and the atmosphere of the world around you.

one word keeps circulating through your head, and as his fingers softly pinch your left nipple, you mewl and pull him up for a passionate kiss, deciding to let the word sit pretty in your mind.

you trails your fingers along the hem of his shirt and he leans back to let you unbutton it slowly. your lips find themselves against his hot skin, trailing in small kisses and bites down his chest as they follow your nimble hands. you cherish his smooth skin and taught muscles.

he soon turns to catch your lips with his, this time feverishly and deeply. he feels hungry against your lips, his tongue winning dominance instantly and smoothing around your mouth as he sighs against you, his hips rocking against you as your hands roam from his hair to his back and chest.

he pulls away, hands trailing down to your jeans, lips following his hands yet again, slower this time.

you whimper quietly at the feeling of white hot pleasure coursing through you and bill shoots you a smirk. “e-everybody is o-outside, y/n/n. we can be as loud as w-we want.” he says in a low tone, and you bite your lip in bliss. you feel yourself get wetter at his words, his voice sounding like royal velvet.

he stops his lips right at the button of your pants. “do yo-you want this?” he asks, his eyes welcoming, and you knows that if, for some absurd reason, you didn’t want him right now (or ever, honestly) you could be honest and he would be forever respectful of that.

“yes, bill. please.” you plead, hands carding into his hair as you watche him smile from in between your legs.

you watch as he unbuttons your jeans, sliding them off and tossing them somewhere across the room. you have to bite back a giggle at the boy's eagerness and he bites his lip as he stares up at you, green eyes sparkling and true as his head sinks lower.

he kisses the inside of your knees slowly, trailing his lips closer and closer to the apex of your thighs where you need him the most before switching to the other side. you groan at his teasing and his quiet huff of a laugh leaves his lips and fans over your thigh.

he’s done this before, it’s obvious.

and it’s probably also very obvious to bill that you are not used to this kind of praise, this kind of approval, and this much intimate attention on your own body. he loves it - loves that he can finally show you how you deserve to feel after years of watching you, his best friend, and waiting for the day that he could put his lips on yours.

his lips finally press a soft kiss over your red lace-clothed clit, and you let out a strangled moan, hips jilting involuntarily at the tease.

his eyes meet yours and all he does is wink.

cocky bastard, you think as bill slides your lace undies off your legs.

it suddenly dawns on you that you're completely naked and vulnerable in front of this boy, and yet somehow you feel more comfortable and at home than you've ever felt in a situation like this.

and you're not totally sure when exactly that fucking word starts to circulate in your mind again- perhaps it is when he licks the first, bold stripe from your entrance up to your clit, or maybe it’s when he uses one hand to gently pin your hips down while his tongue does wicked tricks. or perhaps it’s when he first slips a single finger in.

or maybe that word has been there, hiding in your mind, on the tip of your tongue, the whole time.

but you suddenly can’t think of anything besides bill, because he’s building a rhythm with his tongue and fingers and you know that if anyone is awake in the house besides you, they’d know exactly what was happening in your room currently. and you can't find it to care as you look down at bill, eyes staring back at you with a cocky look on his face as his face is buried in your heat.

your wild moans pick up in pitch and you clench around his fingers tightly, the feeling of bliss having never felt this strong before. your toes curl and you let out whimpers, one hand tangling in his lush hair and the other twirling in the sheets.  

his fingers pick up pace, curling and pumping in and out of you as he sucks your clit.

“bill, fuck, i’m close-“ you start, groaning in pleasure as he smirks slightly. you whimper when he pulls back, a devious smirk playing on his shiny, slick lips, his fingers sliding out of your heat. you groan at the sight of him, shirtless and hair missed up from your fingers, his mouth sinfully shiny from your juices.

he reaches his hand up to you and obediently you take his fingers into your mouth, sucking and licking up yourself from him. he watches with his mouth slightly open and eyes dark. "g-good girl, y/n."

the sharp warmth in your chest and the heat straight down to your center show you how much you like his words, and you preen when he tucks your hair behind your ear. "you taste p-perfect, baby." he whispers into your ear, your jaw going slack in shock that words like that would dare fall from his lips, your thighs clenching together. you bite back a moan at the feeling, wanting nothing more than for bill to fill you up and make you scream his name.

it doesn’t get long before you pull him out of his boxers, and soon you're rolling a condom onto his hard cock.

you almost, almost blush when your mouth waters at the sight of bill’s cock, hard, leaking with precum, and much larger than you'd anticipated.

rich was fucking right, you think, they do call him big bill for a reason.

he’s looking at you like you're the only thing that matters as you pull him onto you. he's letting out breathy moans that you realize you could listen to on repeat forever.

but suddenly he’s pushing you hard against the mattress, kissing you like a sailor returning to see his first love, and he’s lining himself up at your entrance, slowly teasing your entrance with his tip. you whimper at the feeling, your over-sensitive clit throbbing as you tug at his shoulders. he grins into your mouth. "u-se your words, baby." he mutters, and you go red.

“god, bill, please fuck me. need it so bad." you whimper breathlessly. he smiles at you, kissing your nose.

"i kn-know you do." he mutters and you want to smack the back of his head but then he pushes in agonizingly slow and you're gasping.  simultaneously, you suck in breaths at the sensation, eyes staring deep into each other. his are lidded and yours are blown wide, taking him and whimpering at the feeling of him stretching you out.  

you can feel the blush on your cheeks when you realize this is one of the most intimate experiences you've ever had in your life. and when bill's finally buried to the hilt inside you, you let out a low moan at the feeling.

thank god he warmed you up so well, because he was big and felt perfect buried inside you like this, his lips ghosting over your face as you clench your legs around his hips. his fingers rise to roll on your nipple and you let out a gasp of pleasure followed by a small moan of his name. he lets out a shuttering breath into your collarbone as your nails dig into his shoulders.

“please, bill, move. please, fuck, i need it-“ you beg, eyes closed in need and lust.

you feel a strong hand grab your jaw suddenly, and your voice stops as you open your eyes to be met with deep green ones shining fiercely.

“look at me wh-while i fuck you.” he says, more a command, and you involuntarily moan at his words. 

 the power he has over you feeling foreign and incredibly enticing. never did you expect for bill denbrough to be anything more than vanilla in bed - but you're all here for it as you look back at him submissively, trying to hide your smile.

you keep your eyes on him as he pulls out just as slowly as he eased in, before pushing soundly back into you and coaxing a long, low moan from your lips. your head dips back, your spine curving and eyes fluttering before snapping back to his. he starts to thrust as you've adjusted to his size and you can feel him filling you up perfectly, the feeling euphoric. your toes curl in pleasure and you determine that his melodic moan itself could push you over the edge right now.

he builds a rhythm, your legs tightening around his waist as his lips catch yours in a searing kiss. "y-you're so fucking g-good for me, huh?" he asks, but the feeling of him fucking you into the mattress renders you almost speechless, your lips in an 'o' shape as you watch him. you nod, whining as your hands roam his chest and slide to his back.

"god, yes, bill. don't stop," you say breathlessly, whimpering as you pull him down to you by the neck. he kisses you soundly as he pounds into you, his hands roaming your body and making you blush.

you feel a familiar warm feeling in your abdomen after a couple deep thrusts and you moan out as he lifts your legs slightly to hit another angle. “f-fuck...” he mutters, eyes trailing over your whole body yet never shying from your face for more than a few moments.

and now the word lingers in your mouth, on the tip of your tongue, but you're in so much pleasure that you can’t form words that aren’t his own name as they leave your mouth like a prayer.

his thrusts are deep, rough, and yet somehow sensual as if he’s trying to convey thoughts or feelings through his actions, and the combination has you slamming your hand over your mouth to conceal your loud moans, eyes finding his as you remember his previous words.

his eyes make you feel more special than any other human on this earth ever has. you've had a fair share of sexual encounters, but never have you ever experienced something like this with someone like your bill denbrough.

and as one hand grasps your breast and the other holds himself above you, his lips pressing against yours like he’d die if he wasn’t touching you, bill can tell that you're close. “y-you close, baby?” he purrs in your ear, and through his thrusts you can only nod your head and mewl.

his hand suddenly grabs your hands and lift them up above your head, pinning them there and rendering you unable to move our touch him; the feeling of being restrained makes you moan wantonly, moving your hips with his. he hums deeply, a delicious sound, "oh, you l-like that, y/n/n? g-good, so g-good." and then he moans into your collarbone. his words and the feeling of him hitting the perfect spot inside you, fucking you deeper than you could imagine, has you nearing the edge.

his large thumb snakes it’s way into your mouth then, and you look up in his eyes as your lips wrap around his digit. he groans, hips stuttering inside you. "good g-girl." he mutters, eyes glued to your lips as they suck on his thumb.

he drags his thumb out of your mouth and you release with a small pop. he lowers his hand, moving it down to rub sensual figure-8’s on your clit, a stark and delicious contrast to his hip’s motions. you yelp in pleasure, your sensitive clit throbbing.

“c-cum for me.” he whispers, and you're wrecked. your climax, after a slow, burning build, hits you hard and you clench around him, moaning out his name as your eyes barely stay locked on his. your voice cracks in pleasure as your body pulses in pleasure.

bill cums not even three thrusts after, a mess of groans and your name falling from his lips. he pulls out and you quietly hiss at the sudden absence of him, watching with exhausted eyes as bill tosses his condom and turns back to you.

you're fucked out and so out of breath that all you can do is grasp bill’s hand. he smiles softly at your naked, glowing form as the last of the afternoon light seeps through the windows.

he pulls on boxers quickly, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before disappearing out of the room, leaving an empty feeling in the hollow of your stomach.

you're pretty was used to the people you sleep with not wanting to stick around much, and yet you can’t help the deflation in your chest as bill leaves the room. is he going to sleep on the couch? was it that bad for him?

you pull on underwear just as he comes back in, a cup of water in his hands.

when he softly offers it to you, you tear up slightly but cover it up with a yawn. you know you've never had someone care this much about you. that word lingers on the tip of your tongue, begging to drip from your mouth like honey.

“y-you tired?” bill asks shyly, his body dipping down as he sits next to you. you wonder why bill all of the sudden is acting so shy- as if he didn’t just provide the most incredible sex of your life.

“you wore me out.” you says with a little smile as you lean slightly against him and kiss his cheek.

his cheeks blossom at the simple affection. "i love you." he says suddenly, no stutter. his eyes widen in shock as he realizes what he'd just slipped.

you turn to look at him and he's bright red, looking more scared than you've ever seen him. you can't help your smile, though. "bill... i love you too." you admit, stomach fluttering in excitement. he smiles softly, exhaling, "h-holy shit, thank god. that would have m-made the rest of this t-trip so a-awful."

you giggle, hand falling to his jaw. "i love you so much." you mutter, pulling him down with you so your heads hip the pillow, his hands falling on your bare hips as you kiss sweetly. you can't stop smiling into the kiss, and neither can he, so it's full of quiet laughs and teeth knocking, noses brushing together.

"i love y-you so much, y/n." he whispers into your lips, his mouth wide with a dopey smile. you smooth the hair from his eyes and kiss him again. "be mine, p-please."

"i already am, denbrough." you whisper softly.

#bill denbrough x reader #bill denbrough smut #bill is 🤤🤤 #losers x reader #losers club x reader

[windywooshes]

Norton x Reader

Something was off. Something FELT off. He couldn't pin point it though. But he knew the source.

It was you.

You alone, managed the man to lose sight of his desired prize. The thing which he longed the most for since his young childhood years. The thing he fought for the most, the thing he...killed for. The desire to get out of the poor life style he held, exchanging it for one full of chances and potential, it crumbled away whenever he spotted a glimpse of your smile.

The melodic laughter which left your lips, stopped him dead in his tracks each time. If you are in need of a helping hand, he'd throw all of his plans for the day as secretly as possible and offer his aid without raising suspicion. Seeing you interact with other survivors more often than with him made him tense.

How could one single person, disrupt his ideals, his life so heavily ?

Breaking his head day in and day out, he couldn't come to a conclusion. It was frustrating. Norton was a very educated man with an amazing intellect. Yet he couldn't find any solution to his dilemma which was sitting some feet away from him in the garden, feeding the recently added fish in the pond.

In fact. It was added thanks to you and your strong will to clean up the once messy and withered yard which was held enclosed by the big metallic borders around it. Norton was helping you, heaving up the heavy tree trunks along with Bane and Robbie who you managed to talk into your rather big project. After afternoons of sweating, splints in arms and your sweet and sincere apologies to any type of bruise he'd get from the cleaning up mission, the work has been done. Almost shining in light at the grande opening. Even after his flustered yet cocky speech, the slight change of color on his face was not because of him sitting in the center of attention but by the person next to him, who gave his body a quick squeeze of gratitude for the pain he endured through the process.

Recalling the memory just brought back the slight tint of pink on his cheeks. Before he knew it, you were waving a hand in front of his face, trying to get his attention to you. Eyes shifting over to look into yours he remembered why he came outside in the first place.

„If you keep on feeding them like this, they'll end up becoming new juggle balls for Mike.“

The prospector had a small smirk on his lips which let a chuckle escape at your facial expression.

„They just look so hungry and lonely !“ a pout making it's way onto your face „I'm just trying to be a good parent for my little goldlings~“

Huffing with pride and happiness, you once again gazed at your adoptive children swimming around.

„Alright moma goldfish, I'm just here to tell you that dinner is served.“

He turned his back to you and was about to make his way back inside the dinning hall when you suddenly ran up to him and jumped on his back. Thank goodness his reflexes were still working as he managed to regain his balance once again after your impact on him.

„You could at least wait for me, popa goldfish !“

You huffed and let go of his shoulders, rushing past him inside once your nose was his with the aroma of today's cooking, leaving a mess of a man behind.

Once Norton regained his senses, he made his way to his regular seat, accidentally knocking over a chair on his way and hitting his knee against the table. Maybe not all senses were back but that didn't stop him from falling into his regular deep thought process which you triggered inside of him once again.

Thorough dinner, he kept stealing glances of you while chatting with his usual buddies. Trying his best to ignore this squirming feeling inside of his chest and stomache . But whenever he heard a tiny bit of your voice, his whole attention shifted to the source, ending up in half hearted conversations between him and his team mates.

Honestly, it was getting frustrating and tiring to him. After dinner, he decided to call it a day and went into the shared workshop in one of the basements of the mansion. There were various rooms for some of the survivors and hunters, depending on their handicraft. Norton was usually in the laboratory along with Luchino where they'd examine and study their discoveries.

Plopping down on the usual chair, he turned on the lamp on the desk and put his helmet off. His latest treasure was a rose quartz which you stumbled upon in the Mines of the Golden Cave. He remembered how you insisted of taking his place for the match, masking off your true reasoning behind the excuse of 'a training session, since the map is very rare to get'. He was aware that you knew what happened to him. In fact, it was no secret to the whole manor. Yet he was slightly grateful that no one mentioned it to him or asked about it. What didn't amuse him was not that you clearly lied to his face but knowing that you would go into that labyrinth of dread and hell. Norton declined your offer, trying his best to sound as calm and kind as possible, yet you still managed to sneak into the lobby before he had the chance to.

As a result you came back with the beautiful light pinkish quartz and a lot of scratches and blue spots all over your knees and arms. The smile you gifted him though, along with the stone, relaxed some of the tension which built up inside of him and instead of scolding, you received a flustered thank you and some bandages in exchange.

Sighing, Norton leaned his head back on the stool. Even if you weren't around him physically, it still felt like you were. Haunting his mind and heart.

Just as he was rephrasing the words inside his head, combining it with the stone of unconditional love, it finally clicked to him.

Almost instantly he launched himself off from the chair. Your present in one hand, his magnet in the other. It could wait until tomorrow but he didn't want to wait another sleepless night. He was tired of waiting and being patient with what he wanted. He was tired of forcing up a facette of an understanding hardworking fool. It was his ambition which brought him here and his ambition which finally made him realise his feelings for the first person, he managed to fully trust with his emotions and mood swings.

And when he spotted you in the garden, at the same pond you both dug up some weeks ago, he became sweaty and nervous. Yet his dark grey eyes were focused on only you and without noticing, he flung that magnet over to you, switching his own pole. Catching you in his arms and burying his face into your shoulder.

How long has it been since he felt some type of emotional impact inside of him ? When was the last time, he felt warmth swirling up inside of his tummy ? Since his first days in the manor, it was always you who brought up those confusing yet somewhat relaxing feelings inside of him.

Taking in your sweet chuckle and voice with his ears, Norton heard a muffled 'finally' from you as you wrapped your own arms around his upper body. Giving it a loving squeeze.

And indeed. He finally discovered that his problem for the past time, was the solution which danced around his nose this whole time. It has always been you.

And you were far more beautiful than any piece of gold or gem he could ever receive.

#identity v x reader #idv x reader #norton campbell x reader #reader insert #identity v #x reader #idv #idv norton #norton campbell #idv prospector #identity v prospector

[violetwolfraven]

Marked For You

((Am I writing a post-strike javid soulmates AU with several background ships? Possibly! No one asked for this but y’all can’t stop me.))

...

Davey liked to think that being among the Newsies, he was bolder than before. He didn’t scare as easily and he wasn’t afraid to stand up for what he believed in or be himself unapologetically.

After all, that was what all the Newsies were; themselves. They didn’t care what each other thought, not that any of them ever seemed to seriously judge the others. Each Newsie was openly himself or herself, plain and simple.

This kind of unjudging openness that Davey knew and loved didn’t mean he wasn’t shocked as hell when he and some of the fellas were talking, like they did practically every day, and the conversation turned to soulmates and soulmarks.

Soulmarks were a stripe of color on the inside of your wrist, said to be the color that represented who your soulmate was on a fundamental level. Their soul-color.

Davey’s soulmark was a bright, clear blue, like the sky on a clear summer day.

To be fair, the person Davey had been before meeting the Newsies probably would have completely freaked out at what the fellas were talking about. Davey managed to only be moderately surprised and kind of confused.

Because Race was talking about how his soulmark was dark red, the same color as Spot’s favorite shirt, and it just represented him so well and—

“Hold up,” Davey interrupted, “Your soulmate is Spot Conlon?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Are... are you sure?”

“Of course. Um... it’s not a new thing. We’s both known for months.”

All the fellas had guarded looks on their faces. Like they didn’t known how Davey was going to react and it scared them.

Davey had, of course, heard of people having same-sex soulmates. Most people seemed to regard it as wrong for some reason, but...

No one chose their soulmates. All scientists seemed to agree on that.

So why should something you had no control over be regarded as wrong, especially when soulmates were the kind of love that made each other happy?

Now that Davey was thinking about it, blue wasn’t a common color documented to represent a girl.

The idea of his soulmate being a boy didn’t freak him out as much as it probably should.

“I didn’t think the King of Brooklyn was the lovin’ type.”

Everyone visibly relaxed.

“You’d be surprised,” Race said with an uncharacteristically soft smile, “He kinda freaked out on me at first, but we talked it over after he got some time to process, we’s been together nearly a year now, and... he’s good to me.”

“He better be,” Romeo said, “Or Manhattan’d go to war.”

Albert snorted, “Half the Newsies of New York would. Racer, ya got a shit ton of friends.”

“Heh. True. There might actually be enough of ya to stand a chance against Brooklyn.”

“Bold of ya to assume half the Brooklyn boys wouldn’t be on your side,” Jojo pointed out.

Davey had to admit, he couldn’t think of a single Newsie who wouldn’t beat up someone stupid enough to break Race’s heart.

Ike shrugged, “Hotshot’d probably side with Spot. Sorry, Race. Oh! Davey, Hotshot’s mine, by the way.”

Ike showed his red soulmark, a brighter scarlet than Race’s. Hell, the thing was so bright, it practically glowed in the late afternoon sun.

Seeing Mike’s, which was electric blue, Davey wondered how he’d ever had trouble telling the twins apart.

Mike noticed him looking and grinned, throwing an arm around Jojo, who blushed a little. His soulmark was an almost-golden shade of yellow that Davey had to admit suited Mike well.

Of course, it did make him curious, how he’d always heard of people with same-sex soulmates as a rarity, an anomaly that barely ever happened.

And here was 6 that he knew personally. Probably more, now that he was thinking about it, looking back on the way certain pairs of his friends acted.

“How common is it?” he asked finally, “I always heard of same-sex soulmates as rare, but—“

Blink snorted, “It ain’t. Not as much as they’d have ya believe, anyhow.”

His fingers brushed over a mint green soulmark gently.

“Yeah, mine’s Finch,” Albert said, displaying a mark the color of sage.

Romeo grinned, showing his, which was an indigo halfway between blue and purple, “Take a guess.”

Looking back on casual touches that weren’t as hidden as they probably should be, for safety reasons, Davey realized that he was an idiot for not having realized it sooner.

“Specs?”

“Bingo! Ya got in in one!”

“And Blink... I’m guessin’... Mush?”

Blink shrugged sheepishly.

Davey really felt like an idiot for not fully registering until right now how defensive, tough Kid Blink was soft and gentle with Mush in a way he wasn’t with anyone—not even the littles.

“What about you?” Romeo asked, “Ya know who yours is, yet?”

Davey shrugged helplessly, “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Well, show us the mark!” Ike urged, “We can’t guess if we don’t see the color!”

The others voiced their agreement until Davey extended his forearm towards them.

Honestly, his was probably the brightest and most defined of any of them, besides Ike’s.

Everyone went silent, and Davey knew his friends well enough to know that they weren’t quiet simply because they were thinking.

They knew something he didn’t.

“What?” he finally asked after a good 20 seconds.

“Ya really don’t see it?” Mike asked.

“I don’t think he does,” Albert admitted, stealing Race’s cigar.

Race stole the cigar back, “Tragic.”

“What do you all see that I don’t?”

“Ya know, it took me a while to figure out mine,” Jojo admitted, “I was raised to think lovin’ a boy would land ya in hell. But I still knew within a couple weeks, if ya don’t count how long it took me to accept it. Honestly, Davey, you’s known him for months. How haven’t ya realized yet?”

“You mean it’s one of the Newsies?”

Everyone groaned.

“Davey, who’s the one person who pops into your head when you think ‘bout love?” Romeo asked, “Just off the top of your head?”

Davey didn’t want to admit who his first thought was.

“I don’t know,” he lied, “In my defense, I didn’t even consider it bein’ a boy before today.”

“When ya find your soulmate, you know,” Blink said firmly, “It’s undeniable. Ya don’t know how ya know, but ya do. If you’s felt that and seen that color and still don’t know who it is, you’s the biggest dumbass in New York.”

Romeo swatted in Blink’s direction, “Lighten up, Blink. It’s cute in a frustratin’ kind of way.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t tell him,” Ike said mischeviously, “This is better’n watchin’ Race pine over Spot and yet not tell him that the light blue on his wrist is him.”

Race rolled his eyes, “Like you tellin’ Hotshot right outta the gate worked. He avoided ya for 6 months after findin’ out that stupid purple mark was you.”

“It ain’t that purple, Racer. It’s mostly blue.”

“Still don’t go with Brooklyn’s red shirts all that well.”

Davey ignored the others breaking up the budding argument in favor of trying to think. One face did pop into his mind whenever he thought about love, but there was no way he was that lucky.

“Think, Davey,” Jojo urged as soon as the group got back on track.

“Yeah,” Race agreed, “Who’s the one person with a soul like the sky?”

Davey really didn’t want to admit it, but he knew.

The sky was always there when you looked up to see it as Jack Kelly was always there for his friends when they needed him.

“Jack,” he whispered, and the others grinned.

“So, what are ya waitin’ for?” Mike asked, “Go get the boy!”

“I can’t,” Davey protested, “He might be my soulmate, but there’s no way I’m his! He’s courted Sarah and Katherine!”

“That ain’t how it works, Davey,” Blink said, “Yeah, Jack courted Katherine and Sarah, but do ya really think that periwinkle stripe on Kath’s wrist is for him? Or the pinkish-red on Sarah’s, huh? That’s real Jack-like, is it?”

“Just cause Sarah or Kath ain’t Jack’s soulmate doesn’t mean his is a boy,” Davey pointed out, “Jack doesn’t even like boys!”

Albert rolled his eyes, “Ya really think that?”

“I know he don’t.”

“Davey, let me tell ya somethin’,” Ike said, “Just cause Jack likes girls don’t mean he doesn’t like boys. It ain’t gotta be one or the other.”

“Ya think I only flirt with one?” Romeo asked.

Now that Davey was thinking about it, Romeo and Race pretty much flirted with everyone.

Race laughed, “I don’t think we’s ever told him that Jack and Spot was a thing, did we?”

“They what now?”

“It didn’t last long,” Romeo laughed, “Barely a week, and I thinks it was just angrily makin’ out, but it happened.”

“That was a weird week,” Jojo agreed.

“He had a crush on Specs a few years ago,” Ike added, “That was ‘fore Romeo came along, of course.”

Mike started laughing even harder than he already was, making Jojo smile all sappy at him, “I remember that!”

Davey tried to process this new information.

“Point is,” Blink said, “Jack likes girls and boys. And we’s known him a lot longer than you.”

“The color on his wrist definitely ain’t for Kath or Sarah,” Race summed up.

“What... what is it?”

Race patted his knee, “For that answer, you’ll have to ask Jackie Boy, himself.”

“Ask me what?”

The other boys exchanged delighted glances as Jack walked in, a bit of paint on his cheek from spending some time at Medda’s theatre.

“Look at the time,” Jojo said, ignoring the fact that he did not have a watch, “I think we’d best be gettin’ to bed.”

Mike raised an eyebrow suggestively, making Jojo swat his arm in exasperation, but the two of them left in the same direction, hand in hand.

“Just remembered,” Race said, popping to his feet, “I told Spot I’d spend the night in Brooklyn. Gotta go if I wanna not be walkin’ in the dark.”

“Mind if I come with?” Ike asked.

“The more the merrier! I’m sure Hotshot’ll be happy to see ya.”

“Make good choices,” Jack said pointedly, but he didn’t stop them, indicating that those pairings really had been going on for a while.

God, how many times had Ike or Race or both blatantly said they were going to Brooklyn when they left a card game or hangout? How was Davey just noticing this now?

Blink, Albert, and Romeo quickly made up bullshit excuses to leave.

Davey didn’t miss how Romeo mouthed a quick ‘good luck’ to him as he went out the door.

Unfortunately, neither did Jack.

“So, what’s that about?” he asked, seeming more amused than suspicious or anything.

“We was just talkin’ about something,” Davey said, feeling strangely awkward.

“What kind of somethin’?”

“Um... soulmates. That kind of thing.”

“Oh.”

The air between them was charged suddenly.

“What about ‘em?” Jack asked, sitting down next to Davey.

“Um...” Davey took a deep breath, “About how they think they know who mine is.”

Jack didn’t look him in the eye, and his response was almost too quiet to hear.

“Who?”

For some reason, Davey couldn’t outright just say it.

He turned his wrist so that Jack could see his mark, bright, vibrant blue.

He thought maybe something like recognition flashed through the other boy’s eyes.

“It’s someone who’s always there when the people he loves need him,” Davey said softly, “You know how you can always look up and see the sky if ya need to? He’s like that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s one of the things I like most about him.”

“What if he wasn’t?” Jack muttered, “What if there was a day the people he loved needed to see the sky more than ever and it wasn’t there?”

Davey remembered the terror after the first day of the strike. Crutchie was arrested, everyone was hurt, and few of the fellas were still MIA. Davey only had a few bruises, so he and a couple others had had to go find them.

Davey remembered finding Elmer unconscious in an alley. He remembered Buttons’s worry when he managed to wake him up and drag him back to the Lodging House, how panicked he’d obviously been, and now was wondering if those two had something going on.

That day, everyone had needed Jack, and he wasn’t there. That was true. They’d had to rely on Davey and Race and whoever else was unhurt enough to help them, then later, Katherine, when she showed up and nobody asked how she got that much medical supplies.

But every other day since then that Davey had been with the Newsies, Jack had been there, tirelessly comforting his friends after bad dreams, patching up scraped knees, making sure everybody had food in their stomachs and a roof over their heads. And he didn’t always have enough time to take care of everyone, but he sure did his damn best.

Davey reached over and intertwined Jack’s fingers with his own.

To his relief, the other boy squeezed back, just a little.

“Maybe he needs to take care of himself, too, once in a while,” he said, “Maybe everyone survived without the sky for a little bit, so there was no harm done. And Jackie... that was months ago. It doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been there every day since long before the strike and every day since then.”

Jack was silent for a second before he exhaled sharply and shoved his arm in Davey’s direction.

The strip of color on his wrist was clear blue. It was the sky on ice cold clear winter days. It was the cover of a book with characters you could relate to. It was a shade of paint Davey had seen in Jack’s backdrops many times.

Davey didn’t really know why, but the color was undeniably him.

“Jack...”

Jack looked at him, his eyes as soft as the tone in Davey’s voice.

“I knew since day one.”

“Why didn’t ya say anything?”

“I didn’t wanna scare you.”

Davey laughed, “Jack Kelly, if there is one thing you’ve never been to me, it’s scary.”

It was true. Jack had always felt safe, even when Davey was trying to avoid him out of pride.

Unfortunately, safe was the last thing whatever this thing between them was.

“How does it work?”

“What?”

“How does it work?” Davey repeated, “How do they do it? Race and Spot. Mike and Jojo. Blink and Mush. All the other pairs.”

“They be careful,” Jack answered, “If needed, the rest of us try and help cover for ‘em.”

“Can you be careful?”

A smile formed on Jack’s lips, “I know you can... how do ya think I stayed out of the Refuge so long after escapin’?”

Davey rolled his eyes. Jack still liked to bring up his grand escape.

“Hey, Davey... can I try something?”

Davey’s heart was in his throat. His chest was so tight he could barely breathe.

Still, he nodded.

Blink had said that when you met your soulmate, you knew.

Davey didn’t think he’d known before now. At least, not consciously.

But he definitely knew now, because it felt right. He knew because Jack’s lips against his own was the most natural thing in the world.

He didn’t think he’d ever want to kiss anyone else.

He didn’t know how he hadn’t always known that Jack was his soulmate.

Because the color on his wrist was Jack, and the color in Jack’s was him. They were quite literally made for each other.

#newsies #livesies #newsies the broadway musical #javid #javey #jack kelly #davey jacobs #soulmates au #soulmate identifying marks #background ships #sprace #ikeshot #jomike #blush newsies #redfinch #spromeo #implied newsbians #implied belmerttons #violet’s writing