#it fanfiction

[girlystories]

Being the Bowers gang girl

Both platonic & romantic headcanons. includes all members.

addition warnings: swearing, bullying, very few depictions of sexism, few derogatory names, toxicity, abusive parenting.

words: 2.6k

this was entirely inspired by z0mbiekittyy, so please check them out!

Meeting/joining the gang

you were at first the quiet, loner girl who kept to herself, only having a few acquaintances, with very few friends.

it wasn't because you were a loser. only the opposite. everyone wanted to become friends with you or get to know you in some way but you never let anyone get close.

everyone had heard of you of course. when they realized you were different they stopped trying to read you or make their mind about you.

that was until greta keene couldn't get enough. she hated the attention you got. so one day she started spreading rumors about you.

it was relatively easy, since no one knew you enough to disprove them in any way. one word went to another and everyone in town now started talking shit about you.

despite that, you didn't care. you had your mind somewhere else. popularity and school drama weren't your thing.

you didn't mind hearing the remarks spat at you when you wandered the halls or when you were in class. you were completely and utterly unbothered.

word got fast that it even reached the all too feared bowers gang.

you were making your way to biology class when you were shoved against a locker, all your books falling one by one on the floor.

"well well well, if it isn't derry's most favored whore", henry was the first to indulge in the act.

he was followed by vic, or – as he liked to refer to him as his 'right-man', "hey, hank. why haven't we ever tried to mess with her before?"

you tried to back up slowly, but your back hit against another frame. when you looked up your eyes met with a pair of green ones, followed by an unsettling smile.

it seemed like no one noticed what was happening – or in better words, no one gave a shit about what was happening.

"dont worry, [name], we're not gonna kill you, jeez," belch revealed.

that made henry groan and turn his head towards his friend. "shut up."

patrick, still behind you, held onto your shoulders, which was very easy due to his height. "or we will, you will find out soon."

"both of you shut up," henry silenced them before it could escalate to something else. "so, how about you come with us for a ride? ya'know, get some air n' stuff."

"you mean like skipping school?", you asked.

"why? are you scared? I'm sure your reputation is as shitty as it can get. can't get any worse than that. even ours is better."

you shrugged, and just decided to follow them. just as you sat at your seat – between vic and patrick, you couldn't make out the read ahead of you, as they were driving recklessly. where you were, you hadn't the slightest clue.

they were laughing and howling, sometimes shouting at the drives passing by.

you? well, you were scared shitless. you clung onto your seat belt, and holding back the urge to start shrieking.

after a while you got used to it and had to admit deep down it was kinda fun.

when you stopped, you realized you were at a junkyard. they prepared a fire when the sun began to set down and opened some bottles of beer.

as you all circled around the fire you began to talk about whatever. you also found yourself to... tolerate them. or, better yet, even enjoy their company.

before you knew it, little by little you hang more and more with them, slowly becoming one of them. it was the first time you were a part of something. they felt like home and you could trust them, despite the hardships and more extreme emotional outbursts.

your reputation got even worse but you didn't care. you had found your people.

Activities

other than hanging out in the junkyard, you guys do other stuff (of course).

it's like you all live together, while you also don't. frequent sleepovers, meet-ups on each other houses take place, ect.

vic once convinced you all to go camping a few towns away. despite being the one who recommended the idea, he ended up despicing it. on the other hand, patrick who hated the idea ended up having the most fun. scaring vic by hiding bugs in his tent and pretending he was hearing bears or wolves. belch had enough and kept demanding they'd stop fighting, while you kept laughing at vic's reactions everytime. you never went camping again.

every morning belch picks everyone in order, first henry, then patrick, then you, and lastly – the sleeping queen himself: vic.

then, you make a stop at the local diner, everyone choosing their own specific order that the waitress had already memorized.

unless vic had a hangover from the party the day before, he wouldn't stop complaining about who-knows-what.

sometimes, when you were really bored, you'd go out of town in search of abandoned places, owning them for a while until someone else found them and ruined them almost immediately.

it was expected and common sense you'd show up at ever party. then you all would split for a while but meet up in order to leave. belch was in priority not to drink or get high until anyone else got a license. that's what you all agreed on but that possiblility seemed unlikely.

at school you avoided bullying anyone, but giving up on trying to stop them from terrosizing another kid since it was the only thing they ignored you on. the only time you fought back was to defend yourself. not that you needed to, but because you wanted them to know that you weren't as incompetent as you seemed.

when you had the change you'd shoot empty beer bottles with henry's dad's gun.

Henry Bowers

you and henry would share your deep wounds together. him about his alcoholic and insane old man, and you about your hard time fitting in, both in family and friends.

you would joke around, but to an extent. if you said the wrong thing he'd refuse to speak to you for days, weeks or maybe even months – depending how much it affected him. if he was too stubborn, vic would have to somehow find a way to talk him out of his bitchy attitude.

despite him trying to seem hard-shelled, deep down he was very sensitive. he knew you knew that, and he hated it. it was the only thing he hated about you except the fact that tend to be pushy sometimes.

he had never cried in front the guys, but one day he couldn't hold back when he was only with you. it happened only once, but he still feels humiliated about it and hopes you'd never bring it up. he made you swore to never tell anyone.

butch seemed to like you for a reason, only approving of you from the gang. he hated the rest. when you find yourself at their house, he'd warmly greet you.

at first he and patrick made a lot of sexist joke about you. later when he noticed you went silent you, he started using them less, only saying them once or twice.

always offers you cigarettes, and makes sure to buy your favorites.

sometimes (when he's not in a shitty mood) he pays for your food when you go at the diner without saying a word or giving you the chance to convince him otherwise.

all good things considered, let's be honest here cuz we all know he has more negative that good qualities.

for example; gets jealous super easily and gets mad at you for it, making you apologize for something that isn't your fault.

NEVER admits he's wrong. ever.

when you have a different opinion he tells you to shut up or straight up threatens you.

needs a lot of attention, while also can't have on his tail all the time, making him indecisive and confusing.

sometimes doesn't realize you need help and leaves you deal with your problems alone while you clearly do need some sort of hand.

still, you always have a way to be together again, unable to keep any distance between you both. on weekends you usually take the bus to his house, helping him with the choses around the farm.

Vic Criss

you and vic already knew each other from middle school. you were in the same class and he used to help you with homework.

then, when kids started growing up through that phase everybody did about that sort of rivalry against girls and boys. because of that, your 'friendship' fell apart.

you weren't really friends back then but you could've been.

he never admitted it but he always stared at you from away, wishing you would somehow start talking to each other again.

he was the one who convinced henry to approach you that day. the idea popped into his mind just as those rumors started going around.

he was glad henry agreed. even though he always did, he was anxious of saying no. later, he lied to you, saying it was henry's idea instead and that first interaction you had with him was henry's way of being kind (despite calling you a 'whore').

you and vic were close, in a different way you were with the others. he understood you better and he was very good at telling advice. he was also fun gossiping with. definitely the best when having a sleepover. the others found him annoying or bitchy about it, but with you he was himself.

he also was kinda subtle about his true personality, not showing his true small but intresting quirks only you knew.

speaking of gossiping, almost every weekend he crashed at your place, the excuse being his siblings giving him a headache, while his mom being 'a pain in the ass'.

everytime he had a problem with the others you would be the first to know. he was still henry's 'right-man', but sometimes henry was, well... henry.

at parties he'd get wasted and you'd be 100% sure he'd be found in the bathroom pucking his guts out.

you guys are so close he would be showering while you were doing your business at the toilet, gossiping about everything single detail.

still sometimes helps you with school after some persuation, but keeps reminding you that 'he is not your tutor'.

loves braiding your hair when you're hanging out, especially during class when it's something super boring (even for him).

Patrick Hockstetter

you were honestly pretty scared of patrick at first, and most definitely the only one from the gang who gave you the creepes.

the alligations weren't few, to say the least, and at first you kept your distance from him.

he also didn't try to make a move on you, which you found stange, yet grateful. maybe henry threatened him or something. either way you were considerably on good terms with patrick.

one day at school, while you were waiting for the other three to come at your usual spot during break, he offered you a cigarette. you received it with gratitude, since it was rare for an offer coming from patrick. he even stricked up a conversation, which was... maybe a bit thought provoking.

then he smirked – that one charismatic he wore when you would stop being able to read his mind. he was like a puzzle, but most pieces were missing or switched with incorrect ones. "are the rumors true?", he asked, closing his zippo with a 'click' after he light your cigarette.

"i dont think that you care if they're true or not," you answered back, the tobacco filling your lungs with nicotine.

clouds of smoke escaped his nostrils with each chuckle. "maybe."

on your ride home Black Sun Morning by Screaming Trees was playing from the radio and you found yourself singing alongside patrick. he rose his brows, "you know 'em?"

"duh, of course."

the next day on the ride to school, instead of gossiping with vic you ended up having a deep conversation with patrick about music. you never imagined that you'd be having a conversation about art with him of all people.

since then, you hit it off well. he stopped using sexist comments as well, and even attempted physical contact at the diner, brushing his fingers against your hair. when he realized you let him or try to stop him, he smiled to himself.

in the end you were usually seen together, you sitting on his lap during breaks or at the gym stands, in the car or diner. he would wrap his arms around your waist and rest his head on your shoulder. it was making the others sick.

sometimes you attempted to help him with homework, but he only agreed so you could just hangout. he wasn't really interested in attending college. the thing he was good at was certainly playing the guitar. both bass and lead guitar. vic jokes about him making a band but it something told you he didn't view it as a light joke.

one day he invited you to his house to show you his vinyls and discs. that's when you met his mother and was pretty surprised to find out she was vietnamese. he made sure to never speak vietnamese around you or the others.

when meeting you he became less... interested at the fridge at the junkyard, viewing it less and less. maybe therapy was starting to work out? even for a tiny bit.

extremely protective of you, especially at parties. makes sure to keep an eye out even though you wouldn't know it.

Belch Huggins

belch was the most chill and the most independent one of the gang. aways making sure everything was in check and going smoothly. it was no surprise he was super welcome to you and tried to make you at ease the first few weeks, asking you if you were okay or needed a ride home.

is a gentleman, of course. doesn't tolerance any disrespect towards you, no matter how small it may seem to you.

offeres to pay for you when going out, no matter how many times you don't let him.

one time you both got so drunk you couldn't stop laughing; your bellys hurting and your eyes filled with tears while your faces were bright red. it made henry mad (as usual) but it's a memory you'd never forget. you had no way to get back home, though.

on fridays you watch him play basketball, sitting at the stands, and smoking and encouraging him. sometimes vic or patrick came too, but it was very rarely.

he offers you the ball but you immediately decline, being reminded of the day the ball hit you in the face after you missed your shot.

you requested him to teach you how to drive, which was a bad idea honestly. at first you didn't understand his instructions at all, but when he asked you if you had any questions you lied saying 'no'. after that instead of stepping on going forward you accidentally went backwards, almost crashing his beloved trams-am that he named 'daisy'. then you turned the wheel too far, almost falling at a ditch before he saved you two.

swore that you'd never get a license in your life and forbid you anywhere near the wheel, not even the passengers seat.

his dad owes a workshop, fixing cars. he helped too, supporting him in any way he could. you also helped him here and there while he taught you the basics and answered any questions you had.

he promised that he'd let you fix a car entirely on your own without his help. he said he'd also let you keep it for free.

you have a drawer contained only of belch's clothes. at first you'd ask him to try his sweatshirts on. then you'd complain you were cold and he'd sigh, saying you could give it back another day. but you never did.

you loved it when he gave you biggyback rides. his, especially. he could never refuse, despise how tired he was.

#:ssnowville #:snowville #[🦢] #it headcanons #it x reader #bowers gang x reader #bowers gang #henry bowers x reader #henry bowers #patrick hocksetter x reader #patrick hockstetter #victor criss x reader #victor criss #belch huggins x reader #belch huggings #it fanfiction #it 2017 #it chapter one #headcanons #:girlystories

[dollfxcx]

penny p... pussy eating 🙌🏻 (love your blog btw!!)

Context: after spending the night with a man named Robert Gray, reader wakes up from a nap with someone between her legs. but he's not who she expected to be.

TW: nsfw, mentioned tentacles??

Word count: (1.2k+)

***

You don't see him until late at night. When you woke up, after crawling, the night before, into your undone bed, the blankets fern green, you didn't find him by your side, neither in the kitchen, nor in the living room, as if he had dematerialized. But it's just as you're waking up from a nap, which surprised you in the middle of a movie you've put on to pass the time, that you feel his presence between your legs.

You try to move, idly, eyelids half closed and numb with sleep, but your wrists are locked firmly, as if bound by an invisible rope, above your head, resting gently against the back of the sofa. When you finally manage to open your eyes, a head of red hair happily emerges between your legs, a sight that makes you crane your neck to take stock of the situation. The slight expectant smile that had made its way across your face abruptly disappears when, to your horror, it's not him. Not anymore, at least, better way to say it. Pennywise smiles, bunny teeth peeking out of his cherry red lips, head tilted slightly to the right in a mocking way.

"Aw, is my Y/n disappointed? She doesn't like the way I look anymore?" he questions, his hands slide on your knees to spread your legs and make more space between them. You frown, slightly concerned as the grip on your wrists is getting tighter with every passing second, reducing your chances of escape.

"Oh, but yesterday she looked so happy, sucking on ol' Robert Gray's cock like it was candy, huh?" One of his gloved hands reaches for your cheek, gently grasping it, while the other, fingers light and teasing, caresses your inner thigh. He must notice your confused look as you feel him huffing against your crotch in exasperation, shaking his head slightly with an expression of disgust on his powder white face.

"Silly, silly humans. Always stop at what they see, never go beyond that." One of his fingers flies dangerously close to the zipper of your pants, a gloved touch so faint it almost tickles you. You lean your head back on the couch, lips slightly parted, as you wait for him to speak again.

"The man you so desperately crave is gone. I am him and he is me." Deep down, you knew it very well already and when he takes off your pants with hatefully studied slowness, you stop thinking about it completely .The man from last night must be in there somewhere, anyway, right?

"I gave him one of my favorite forms, the most human of all, for you." You open your eyes again, jerking your head up to meet his golden gaze. He grins at you, but it's not a sweet smile, it's hungry. Craving.

"Mh!! You get it, yes?" he asks, the pad of his index finger traces an invisible line from the elastic of your underpants to your throbbing cunt, slowly poking it with unexpected curiosity. You inhale sharply through your nose and try to wriggle out, lazily, you hear him chuckling in amusement.

"Get what?" you hiss as he pushes your panties to one side, fully exposing you to his critical gaze.

"That you've always been mine, doll." he murmurs, too engrossed in what he has in front of his eyes to pay any attention to you. You moan as he runs the tip of his nose over the skin of your thigh, gingerly sniffing your scent, you notice how his eyes have turned blue again and the sight seems almost enough to make you dizzy.

"Yet, as I am to adapt to the form I take, he gave me a part of his humanity." he explains as his now ungloved middle finger presses against your opening, spreading and stretching your walls with little to no respect, eliciting a whimper from your throat, your hips jerking in a vain attempt to meet and follow his movements, which are excruciatingly slow.

"And his physical needs. And his innermost desires. Oh, you'd never guess what he wanted to do to you, what I want to do to you." His finger curves into you, bumping into a spot you didn't even know you had and making your eyes burn with evil tears you try, in vain, to hold back. He grabs your thighs and yanks you violently off the couch, then pushes his finger back inside you now that the position allows it better, your back arches when his index finger is carelessly inserted too. He starts pumping them slowly, then faster and faster, thumb tracing light, devious circles against and around your clit, until you can't mutter anything but his name, over and over and over. Pennywise leans towards your chest, his free hand, previously gripped around the flesh of your thigh, thick claws now exposed, rips through your shirt, allowing him to dip his cherry-colored nose into the skin between your breasts. Since your wrists are now free, your fingers fly into his hair, tugging at it to pull him closer to you. Pennywise, however, doesn't allow it and stops thrusting his fingers inside you, he blinks quickly as if he has just discovered something new. Something very interesting. He brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks on them and if you weren't totally about to pass out, just the sight of it would make you cum.

"Oh yes, now I understand why he liked you so much." he licks his lips, golden gleam back in his eyes, and, without giving you time to say anything, he grabs you by your legs again, this time making the backs of your knees rest on each of his shoulders, cunt dripping right in front of his mouth. And it's a very uncomfortable position, you're already shivering, but you don't care anymore when his tongue, rough as a cat's and disturbingly long, begins to push inside. Your fingers try in vain to find something to grip, but there's nothing, there's just you and him and your whimpers, and they get louder and more shameless with every inch his tongue manages to reach, which is a lot, it seems to be endless, it wiggles and flicks and savors. His claws dig lightly into the flesh of your thighs, which he's still squeezing as if he's afraid you might escape, fine streaks of blood drip from the lacerated skin. When you cum on his tongue, however, after making sure he's sucked, tasted and swallowed every drop, he moves it to your new wounds, lapping away the blood, the color of which blends in with that of his lips, which, for some strange reason, leave a few lazy kisses on your skin, as if to comfort you.

"You taste good." he notes to himself, clicking his tongue. It's horribly enrapturing to see him like this, completely fascinated by the sensations he's felt just now, his gaze darts between your legs, hoping to find some… leftovers. You start to get up, your knees shaking, but you don't even have time to try that he jumps on you, his hands, miraculously and magically gloved again, wrapping tightly around your exposed throat, a treacherous little smile on his lips.

"You know I want more, don't you?"

***

REQUESTS ARE OPEN YIPPIEEE

#it 2017 #pennywise #pennywise the clown #pennywise x reader #it (stephen king) #pennywise headcanon #fanfic #fanfiction #pennywise the dancing clown #pennywise x you #it fandom #it fanfiction #ao3feed #clownlove

[sinningforrory]

stupid // stan uris smut

a/n: hey everyone! it's been so long since i've posted and a lot of people have been sending me requests but since my first and only fic i've uploaded on here has gained 1,000 notes i thought i'd gift you guys this fic as a thank you. i'm gonna try and upload a lot more now because i appreciate so much the love my writing gets fr thank you guys so much. hope you enjoy and as always, reblogging really helps me out so if u enjoy, pls don't hesitate!

WARNINGS: dom!stan, submissive!bratty!reader, slight choking, mention of drugs (if you squint) SMUT, majorly NSFW minors please dni, thank you!

WORD COUNT: OVER 6K

SUMMARY: Your parents best friends' son. The picture perfect grade A student of the perfect suburban family. And a cocky douchebag. You hated him. But, since you both got into the same college, Stan has been making it clear that he definitely does not hate you...

Stanley. Even his name irked you. I mean, who in their right mind births a beautiful baby boy and names him Stanley. What a stupid name. It fits him though, that’s for sure. Stupid Stan with his stupid family and his stupid friends and his stupid studying. He was just so stupid that you wanted to bash his brains in any time he so much as breathed around your presence. 

Of course, he hadn’t necessarily done anything to warrant your intense hatred towards him. He just irritated you. You were Jewish too so you’d always see each other at the Synagogue and your parents were enamoured by Stan’s stupidness. They saw it as ‘perfection’ instead though. They were always bothering you about how you should ‘aim to be more like Stan’ or ‘Stan’s parents told me he got an A in this class. So why are you getting a D?’ He drove you insane. You weren’t Stan, you weren’t stupid like Stan so why couldn’t your parents just love you for you instead of comparing you to that stupid, stupid boy.

Due to your parents being very good friends with Stan’s family, you saw each other a lot more than you’d like. And every time you were there you took every opportunity to be nasty to Stan just to wear off some steam. But that made it even worse. It wouldn’t matter if he was a dick to you too. But no. He’s NICE to you. And you know he’s doing it on purpose to get on your nerves because every time he compliments your hair and sees you glaring knives into his eyes, he does a subtle smirk to himself as if he’s fucking won this silly little game you play. He knows he’s driving you insane and he’s proud of himself for it. What a fucking douche.  

It had always been this way. Stan irritates you, you’re a bitch to Stan, Stan eats it up, Stan irritates you, blah, blah, blah. It was an endless cycle of hate. 

However, something had flipped in Stan the summer before you both left for college. Luckily enough, you’d both managed to get into the exact same ivy league as each other so you would be stuck with Stan for the next four years. When you found out you immediately wanted to bash your head into a wall repeatedly until you woke up from this absolute nightmare that was Stanley Uris. 

The news that you had both gotten into an ivy league warranted a celebratory party for the both of you. The idea from your lovely mother, of course, and at said party, Stan was acting a lot stranger than normal. So strange to the point where you were currently hiding in the bathroom with your back against the door breathing heavily as if he was chasing after you and about to knock the door down with an axe.  

It started in the garden. You wore a white summer dress with tiny yellow flowers scattered among it. Stan was looking very punchable in cream khakis and a navy polo. Unbuttoned, of course, because he could never look TOO tidy. You stood by the refreshments, sipping a virgin pina colada when Stan strutted his way over with a teasing grin on his face, ready to ruin your relaxed mood. 

‘So, I guess we’re going to college together. It seems you really can’t escape me, can you, y/n?’ He leaned against the table next to you, taking a sip from his beer. You glared up at him, already infuriated by the fact that he was leaning down with you stood up straight next to him and he was still taller than you. 

‘Oh please, Stanley, don’t pretend to be so happy about this when we both know you are just as excited about this as me.’ 

He gasped in mock surprise before laughing softly at the frown on your face, ‘Oh, come on, princess, you know you love me. I guarantee that you would miss this adorable face as soon as you knew you couldn’t see me anymore.’ 

He smiled at you gently before moving his sunglasses up to rest on his curls and taking a sip of beer. 

You moved to stand in front of him, making a move to leave the refreshments and flee to your room (or anywhere away from Stan). ‘Bite me, Uris.’ 

‘If you insist, princess.’ He smirked at you and folded his arms over his chest, his muscles straining under his polo. 

Your eyes widened slightly, shock evident on your face at his words. He had always been overly saccharine with you but he had never flirted with you so boldly. Shaking yourself out of your daze, you scoffed before walking off with your pina colada into your kitchen for some snacks. 

5 minutes later, you were still stood in front of your fridge, supposedly searching for food but instead, you found yourself staring off into space. You could not scratch that smug image of Stan out of your brain, his words engraving themselves into your memory, messing with your mind. 

Worst of all, you found yourself repeatedly wondering why you liked what he had said to you. Pulling yourself together, you closed the fridge door but immediately jumped as you saw Stan standing right where the fridge door had been resting. 

‘You look a little lost, princess, is everything okay?’ He was stood so close to you that your chests were half an inch away from touching. You gazed into his eyes for half a second before realising what you were doing and coughed before putting some distance between the two of you. 

‘Uh-uhm, I’m fine thank you, Stanley. Just couldn’t find what I was craving.’ 

He nodded his head understandingly before taking a step forward so you were nearly chest to chest once again. ‘What exactly are you craving, y/n?’ 

He hadn’t meant to sound so enticing, or maybe he had, but the way he said that with his gravelly voice and his tiny smirk made your thighs involuntarily clench together. 

‘E-erm, just some guacamole dip. My mom always hides it from me though because she knows I’ll eat it all before the other guests can have any.’ You fiddled with the hem of your dress, avoiding eye contact with the boy in front of you. What had gotten into you, why was he making your confidence dissipate so easily and why were you suddenly acting like a nervous school-girl?

Stan’s eyebrows furrowed before an evil look took over his features. He was planning something, you could tell. And you didn’t like it. 

‘Oh, you mean.. this guacamole? The one on top of the fridge? That I can reach? But you can’t?’ 

Your eyes trailed along his veiny, muscular forearm before they met his slender, mocking hand where you found it gesturing towards... of course: the dip. 

Frustration filled you head to toe as you realised that Stan, once again, had the upper hand. Your jaw ticked as your eyes finally met Stan’s cocky, patronising eyes and you had to resist the urge to make those smug, brown orbs black and blue. 

‘It seems that you have something you need to ask me, darling. Because, let’s face it, we’re not gonna have a stare-off all day in front of this fridge. So, let’s hear it: “Oh, please, Stanley. I need you to get me that dip off the top of the fridge because I was born with incompetent height and I can’t do it without you, Stanley.”’ 

You crossed your arms over your chest as you listened, painfully, to Stan mock you with such arrogance you found it hard to resist whacking him with a frying pan. However, to Stan’s surprise, before he had the chance to continue making fun of you, there was no one standing in front of him anymore. 

Where had you gone? he thought. That’s unlike you, to admit defeat so easily. Where was your usual snarky bite back, attacking him on his ‘unusually long legs’? 

But before he could get too worried, there you were. Returning into the kitchen to fight back to Stan.... with a chair. 

Wordless and emotionless, you put the chair down in front of the fridge, stood on its seat and grabbed the dip, finally retreating from the kitchen, not before throwing Stan a victorious wink before you disappeared around the corner. 

Truth be told, you had no idea how to respond to Stan’s unusual behaviour so instead of arguing back like you would normally do, your mind blanked of insults completely and you did the next best thing that you could think of: beat him at his own game. 

It was obvious that something about Stan had changed since the last time you had spoken and Stan seemed to think he was one step ahead of you. What stupid Stan didn’t know was that you were nowhere near as Stupid as him and knew that the only way to irritate him like you used to was to give him a taste of his own medicine. 

Sure, you weren’t exactly completely against the idea of flirting with Stan for fun. He was obviously a good-looking guy; you knew because he would never let you forget it. And you would never pass up the opportunity to get a hot guy flustered. 

This was how Stan wanted to play? Fine. He’d better prepare to lose. 

It had been two weeks since this little game you and Stan were playing had begun and you couldn’t hold out much longer. The tension between the two of you had sky-rocketed and even the slightest twitch of a smirk in the corner of Stan’s mouth had your panties pooling with desire. 

You had an inkling that Stan was in the same boat as you were as your lingering caresses on his arm or leg when laughing with him and his family seemed to make him blush much easier than before. 

The point of why you were doing all of this was still vaguely swimming around in the back of your mind: do not be the first to give into your temptations. Don’t sleep with Stan. 

However, with Stan so perfectly positioned behind you so your butt met his bulge as he leaned over your petite frame to reach for a glass, you had to take deep breaths to remind yourself once again: don’t sleep with Stan. 

You gulped and took a deep breath of relief once he removed himself from his position behind you to lean on the counter next to you. His gaze burned into the side of your face and you met his eyes briefly just to find him with a cocky smirk plastered on him. 

Your blood boiled (with rage or desire, you didn’t know) but you looked away without giving even the slightest of a reaction. You could never let him know how much his actions affected you. 

It was that dreaded time of the week when you go over to the Uris family’s house for dinner and after eating a delicious meal cooked by Mrs Uris you did the routine of standing in the kitchen and drinking an iced tea with Stan whilst the adults got drunk in the living room. 

Usually, you and Stan would bicker pointlessly during this time of the evening, but tonight it was completely silent between the two of you with only lingering gazes and glares thrown from one to the other. The tension could be cut with a butter knife. 

However, your torment was put on pause as, suddenly, Mrs Uris appeared at the kitchen door. ‘Hello sweeties,’ she hiccoughed slightly, clearly tipsy. ‘I know that the kitchen is very beautiful but you are welcome to go up to Stan’s room if you want. Stan certainly won’t mind a beautiful girl like you to be up in his room, y/n.’ She winked as you blushed and Stan coughed out an embarrassed ‘Mom!’. 

She then made her departure, giggling to herself softly as she went. Stan then coughed to get your attention and gestured with a jerk of his head to the direction of his room, indirectly asking if you wanted to take up his mother on her offer. You shrugged before making your way up the stairs to Stan’s room. 

Stan’s room. What a place to behold. You hadn’t been up there since you were about 12 and had to work with Stan on a class project. It had changed a lot since then. Posters of bands that Stan listened to were plastered all over the walls and clothes were scattered all over the floor, and let’s not forget to mention the faint aroma of marijuana. 

Stan manoeuvred you out of the doorway, his fingers gracing your waist ever so slightly with his bulge pressed against your lower back as he shimmied past you. 

He jumped on his bed, his arms and legs in a starfish position on either side of him, and closed his eyes with a big sigh. 

You carefully sat yourself down next to him on the bed, feeling too hesitant to lie yourself down next to him. He leaned up against the bed frame with his hands behind his head as he studied your appearance precariously as ever. 

‘Why do you hate me?’.

The question took you by surprise. It was so out of the blue and even more so out of character for Stan to be so straight-forward. You blinked delicately before shrugging your shoulders at him. 

‘Do you want the honest answer or the answer that you want to hear from me?’ You pressed, speaking so quiet that it was almost a whisper. 

He glanced swiftly over you for a second before responding, ‘Honest.’ 

It wasn’t like you weren’t expecting Stan to want that answer but the fact that you had to admit it to yourself now, let alone to Stan, was enough to make you faint from nerves. 

You looked away from Stan and fiddled with your fingers as you spoke in hushed tones. ‘I envy you. You have better grades, better looks, better charisma, better music taste, better style... a better life. You are better than me in every way. And I despise you for it.’ 

A masked look of shock ghosted over Stan’s face before it was replaced once again with a stony expression. He sat up straight so that your knees were touching and he placed a hand on the centre of your thigh. 

You looked up at him and connected with his gorgeous hazel eyes. He ran his tongue quickly over his lips before his eyes locked onto yours. ‘Now, we both know that’s not true.’

It was as if your body was moving with a mind of its own. Slowly, you were leaning in towards Stan as if you were magnetised to him and to be too far would hurt you in unimaginable ways. ‘How do you mean?’ You breathily responded, your heart pulsing rapidly.

He was so close to you now that you felt his breath against your lips. ‘Because I envy you ten times more.’ And with that closing sentence you felt his lips crash immediately into yours. 

All the tension from the last few days swarmed around you both like a storm of arousal and need. His kiss was passionate and rough as he pressed his lips into yours with so much want but his hand on your leg was gentle and sweet as he caressed your inner thigh gently with his thumb. 

The constant nagging of your brain screaming at you ‘Don’t sleep with Stan’ was shoved into the back of your mind falling to deaf ears as Stan moved his hand ever so slightly higher up your leg, falling to play with the hem of your dress as he detached his lips from yours to suck on your collarbone with the obvious attempt of planting a hickey. 

Stan skillfully moved you both up to the headboard so that he could deepen the passion of your kiss and you quickly maneuvered yourself so that you were now straddling his lap. 

His growing erection pressed into your centre as he trailed his smooth hands down to the flesh of your hips, his lips dragging down your jaw to find solace in the crook of your neck.

You felt like you were on fire, Stan’s touch was magnetic and no matter how you’d been trying to resist him, it was impossible. You were addicted to how he made you feel. 

Neediness began to bubble through your tummy and you could tell Stan was feeling the same way as his hands were digging into your hips harder than before. Then, his hands began to carefully drag your hips across his hardness, slowly at first. 

You could feel every bump of his length through his thin sweatpants and your hands moved down his toned body to fiddle with the hem of his t-shirt. 

His hands began to move faster, dragging your thin panties over his hard, clothed dick. He detatched his lips from your neck when you began to let out tiny, little moans of pleasure, thankful for the little bits of stimulation Stan was feeding you. 

His eyes trailed down your body, admiring every single bump and curve: the strap of your dress falling off your shoulder, your soaking panties rubbing against him as his hands moulded perfectly with the fat of your hips. They then fell on your face, growing darker at the sight of your furrowed eyebrows, messy hair and plump, red lips from you biting down too hard on them. 

Likewise, you were admiring Stan, his sharp jawline clenching and unclenching every time you dragged yourself over his most sensitive spots, his hair uncharacteristically messy from your hands tugging on his curls. He noticed your movements speeding up and he flashed you a dangerous grin; a grin that would make even the biggest prude on the planet drop her panties to her knees. 

Acknowledging your shaky hands still fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt, he slowed the movement of your hips with his strong hands and dragged you painfully slow now, refusing to let you continue with the rapid pace you’d set before. 

“You want this off, baby?” referring to his t-shirt. You nodded shyly, hands still fiddling with the hem. 

“Want me to take it off for you? Are you too dumb to do it yourself?” He stared up at you with a patronising look on his face. You groaned annoyedly, but deep down your cunt throbbed with anticipation.

“Just take it off Stan, don’t be a dick.” You glared down at him but your glare immediately switched to a look of shock as Stan’s hands had stopped your hips moving completely now, denying you any release that you were desperately craving. 

Narrowing his eyes playfully, he tutted at your lack of control. “Now, that’s no way to ask for what we want is it, sweetheart?” The corner of his lips tugged up satisfactorily as he took in your menacing glare, but also your glossed over eyes indicating your desperation for his cock. 

‘Oh, how cute,’ Stan thought pityingly. ‘The poor, little slut’s already gone dumb and I haven’t even fucked her yet.’

You breathed through your nostrils fiercely before succumbing to the begging of your aching clit and gave Stan your best doe eyes before tugging pathetically at the hem of Stan’s crumpled shirt. ‘Please take it off Stan, I’ll do anything, please..’ You pressed down on his length for extra measure just to make sure he would give you what you needed. 

A low hum of appreciation mixed with a strangled groan of pleasure escaped Stan’s throat and he mulled it over for a few seconds with that irritating smirk plastered on his face before nodding, clearly satisfied with your begging before he lifted his slender fingers to his collar and removed his shirt - finally. 

You took a moment to appreciate the art that was Stanley Uris' abs and sighed contentedly. It seemed your hands had a mind of their own as you wasted no time in rubbing your hands up and down his beautiful torso, gliding over the valleys and hills of his defined muscles.

"Enjoying yourself there, princess?" Stan chimed, clearly cocky that you'd spent about 30 seconds just groping him absentmindedly.

Tearing your eyes away, you glanced up at Stanley's face, adorned with a shit-eating smirk, one of his hands resting behind his head, the other still gripping the fat of your hip, rubbing gentle circles into your flesh.

Slightly embarrassed but, nevertheless, growing quite needy now, you rolled your eyes.

Eyes narrowing at the evil spawn, you thought 'The ego of this man is absolutely atrocious. How dare he try and make fun of me for admiring his physique when if I decided to strip naked right now, his reaction would probably beat mine.'

And then it clicked.

Focusing back on Stanley's disgustingly smug face, you did something you'd never done for Stanley Uris in your entire life.

You gave him a real genuine smile.

The apples of your cheeks beamed down at him and your eyes sparkled lovingly at the boy who was now slightly confused and, albeit, a little bit scared.

Slowly, you leaned down over Stan so your breath tickled his nose and your lips brushed gently against his, just in time to see his cheeks tinge red and his eyes flutter closed, like a naïve teenage girl who was experiencing her first kiss.

Aw, how cute.

Finally, you pressed your lips to Stanley's, so softly Stan thought he might've been kissing a cloud, and just left them there, in a gentle peck, before sitting up again to admire the look of bliss on Stan's face.

His eyes were fluttering open again and his breathing was shallow but fast.

This was the real face of Stan; he had finally taken off his mask for you.

He was so pretty, obviously you knew that already, but you couldn't get lost in his beauty again or your plan wouldn't work.

Then, when he dazedly smiled up at you and made to pull your head down so he could kiss you again, you teasingly began to lift up the hem of your dress until it had been lifted over your head and discarded somewhere on Stan's bedroom floor.

There you sat, on Stanley's clothed, throbbing cock, in just your white silk panties, the little bow just oh so enticing, and your bare, perky breasts on display for Stanley's greedy eyes.

His lips parted ever so slightly as he not-so-discreetly took in a sharp intake of breath. His eyes roamed hungrily over your exposed chest, and you knew you had him when his needy little hands reached up to thumb your erect nipples.

Arrogantly, you smirked down at him, your sweet, loving smile erased. However, Stan failed to notice, too enamoured by your naked body, like a toddler in a candy store.

"Aw, you're like a needy, little puppy, aren't you Stanny?" Your heart beat fast as you finally dropped the sentence you'd been waiting to release since Stan's cocky demeanour had surfaced.

Stan froze as he realised what you had done and his jaw clenched automatically, clearly embarrassed that he had let you entice him just how he had you not even a few minutes ago.

Narrowed eyes were glaring into yours and your confident façade faltered slightly as you realised how deep in shit you were now.

He was gonna ruin you.

However, Stan didn't flip you over dominantly so he was on top of you, or rip your panties off in anger like you had expected him to.

Gradually, he eased himself up his headboard so his back was resting comfortably against it and so the two of you were eye-level, 'innocent' doe-eyes levelled with furious, narrowed eyes.

His hands gently gripped you hips and moved you a little further up his chest, so he could remove his sweatpants, so slow and so patient you were so confused.

He looked deadly, that's for sure. But you'd expected him to be rough with you, teach you a lesson for being so naughty. All in all, other than being clearly vexed, he was treating you like you were a china doll.

As soon as his sweatpants and boxers were discarded, he moved you back to your old spot on his lap and carefully caressed your hips, his thumbs hooking under the straps of your thong and pulling at the sides, fiddling with them gently while intently drilling into your eyes with his own.

"You wanna be in control, huh, sweetheart?" He muttered so quiet you could barely hear but so full of malice your heart immediately sped up.

You had no idea what to say. No, you didn't wanna be in control. You wanted Stan to bend and contort you into any position he wanted, you wanted him to fuck your cunt until you couldn't even form a coherent word, you wanted him to paint the canvas of your body purple, pink and black, in the form of hickeys, bruises and mascara stains.

And you knew he knew that.

You knew by the look on his face, the restraint in his jaw, the rage in his eyes that he definitely did not want that either.

So why was he doing this?

Just as your brows started to furrow in confusion, Stan's thumb had started to rub harsh but deliberate circles over your clothed clit and you let out a gasp.

He tilted his head to the side slightly, furrowing his brows in faux confusion. "Is that... not what you want, baby? You see, I'm just a needy little puppy, right?" He spat at you, evidently fuming but clearly enjoying seeing you in such a state.

You shook your head and dropped your it onto Stan's shoulder, moaning softly as he used one hand to hook your panties to the side while the other found your soaking wet hole and gently inserted two very long fingers.

But, immediately he removed them.

Your head shot up in irritation but you relaxed and hummed contentedly as you realised that Stan was finally lining himself up with your entrance.

You lifted yourself up slightly to make room for his 'oh my god that's scarily big why am i only just noticing this' cock, fluttered your eyelashes closed, and waited for the stretch of him pushing up into you... but it never came.

The first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was Stan's eyes, still level with yours, looking bored and his hands, once again, behind his head, biceps flexed and causing a big distraction for you.

He looked at you pointedly, but, realising you still didn't get it, rolled his eyes and motioned for you to sit on his cock.

At this point, you would've jumped off a cliff if Stan asked you to if it meant he would grant you some form of release, so you carefully began to lower yourself down onto his tree-trunk of a dick, the stretch of it stinging slightly but the depth of it stimulating you in all the right ways.

You let out a guttural moan as you sat on the base, his cock bottomed out inside of you. You gripped Stan's toned shoulders with force and wiggled about slightly, trying to adjust to this new, amazing feeling and, as you wiggled, you noticed a slight tremor in his mask as his jaw clenched and his eyebrows briefly furrowed in pleasure.

But, as quickly as it faltered, it reappeared and Stan's stoic, unimpressed gaze fell on you once again.

"Well?" He rasped, as if what he wanted was the most obvious thing in the world. "You're in control, right, babe? I'm not moving a muscle."

You knew immediately that he was not kidding, so you bottled up the impatience you had for this stupid, stubborn man and put your game face on.

You could get off without help from Stan, of course you could. You didn't need his touch when you could do a perfectly good job with your hips and your hands.

'Fine.' You thought, glaring at Stan with pure hatred in your eyes. 'Suit yourself.'

So you began to move up and down on Stanley's cock, feeling every vein and twitch as you dragged your walls all over his length, coating it in your slick.

You gripped Stan's flexed biceps, his arms unmoving from behind his head as his eyes flickered between watching your face slowly morph into a dreamy, fucked-out expression, soft, pretty moans escaping from your parted lips every time the tip of his cock would prod at your g-spot, and watching your glistening, stretched out cunt swallow up his length, each time producing more and more slick so every time you slammed back down on his base, you could hear a squelching noise.

The only sign Stan was giving away of him holding any emotion was the twitch of his jaw and brow growing more frequent as the speed of your bounces grew quicker and harsher.

Soon, your bounces grew erratic as you craved your release, the only noises in his room being your desperate whimpers of pleasure, the sound of your wetness, and skin slapping on skin, along with the occasional grunt of approval from Stan.

However, you started to grow tired and out of breath as it had been nearly 5 minutes of you bouncing up and down on Stan's length, with no help from him and your determination to beat Stan at his own game was overwhelmed by your desperation to cum, and you knew you had to admit defeat because you were never gonna cum if you carried on like this.

Reluctantly, you sank down onto Stan and stilled with him deep inside you as you breathed heavily and whimpered with the desperation to cum deep in your tummy, your clit throbbing, begging for release.

Stan's furrowed face quickly changed to that of faux sympathy as he moved his hands to rest on your waist, rubbing gentle circles into the skin. "Oh baby, are you tired? Do you need my help?" He asked, patronising you just a little bit further by stretching out 'need' just to annoy you.

You had no time to be annoyed, however, because you could feel your release creeping just that little bit further away from the loss of stimulation, so you nodded your head frantically, practically begging Stanley to help you with your pathetic little doe eyes, glossy and desperate.

"Please, Stanny, please I need it, I need you, just please make me cum." You whined, your lips ghosting his ear, and gently kissing his cheek just for good measure.

That was all Stan needed to hear as he grabbed your neck, squeezing gently as he brought your face back to his and kissed you harshly, bruising your lips with his teeth as he dragged your lip with him, pulling away, and then releasing it.

"See, that wasn't so hard was it!" He smiled gently at you, pecking your plump, red lips and squeezing your neck in approval, before he moved his hands back to your waist, his grip turning nasty and he lifted you up right to his tip, then plunging his hips upwards into yours.

You choked on your moan from the sheer force of his thrust but soon gained your voice back as he continued his rough, rapid thrusting up into your eager pussy, practically dripping, begging for a long overdue orgasm.

You collapsed your tired aching body on top of Stan, your head buried in his neck, muffling your high-pitched moans from the ears of your drunk parents downstairs.

Stan moved his hands down to your ass and gripped the flesh harshly and his thrusts were slamming repeatedly into a spot that made you clench fiercely down on him and shriek with overwhelming pleasure.

Stan groaned into your ear as you continually clenched around him, whispering filthy praises into your ear making your legs tremble and your stomach flip as your impending orgasm was getting closer and closer.

"Can you hear yourself, princess? Can you hear the noises your pretty pussy is making?" The squelching of your wetness was embarrassing to say the least and you could feel Stan smirking without even having to look at him.

As he kept hitting that same spot, you could feel yourself so close to the edge as your legs trembled and your moans grew louder and higher.

"I'm gonna- I'm gonna come, Stanny." You managed to babble out through your whimpers as you felt that overwhelming rush of pleasure build up deep inside you.

Stan lifted your head up and grabbed it with both of his hands whilst still thrusting repeatedly in and out of your sopping cunt, forcing you to look into his eyes.

He had a look of pure concentration adorning his face, brows furrowed, jaw clenched and hair messy, letting out little breathy moans of his own every now and then.

"That's it princess, I wanna see that pretty face when you come all over my cock." And the coil snapped.

You let out a scream of pleasure as your entire body jolted, your orgasm washing over you, your toes clenching and your pussy spasming around Stan's length.

You collapsed onto Stan once again, letting out tiny moans, clearly exhausted from the intensity of the orgasm Stanley had given you, and the spasming of your cunt had clearly not been lost on him as his relentless thrusting had begun to grow sloppy.

Stan was moaning quite loudly in your ear now, a death-grip on your ass cheeks as he fucked up into you, chasing his own high.

You knew he needed a little push so you sat up slightly so you could whisper in his ear breathy and raspy like someone who was recovering from one of the best orgasms they'd ever had in their life, "I want you to come inside me."

The words that make every man orgasm on the spot did not lose their effect on Stan as he let out a loud groan of ecstasy and his thrusts slowed until they came to a stop, clearly having done what you asked.

He dropped his forehead to yours and grabbed your hands, fiddling with them as you both caught your breath.

Holy shit.

You didn't know what to do as you both just lay there gathering your thoughts, attempting to comprehend what just happened.

However, you knew you couldn't stay in this post-orgasmic bubble forever so you gently lifted yourself off of Stan's softening dick and got up to look for your dress.

You were halted, however by a hand closing around your wrist.

Turning around, Stan was lazily grinning up at you with a look of victory on his face as he was dragging you to lie back down on the bed with him and you couldn't help but smile back at him, full of a mysterious feeling for the boy who was just so beautiful.

How could you say no?

Climbing back into bed with him, you both turned to face each other, him still grinning at you, and you studying each and every freckle and blemish on his skin, realising that you loved each and every one of them.

You loved them.

Oh my god.

You loved Stan.

Suddenly, you burst out laughing and Stan jumped slightly before a grin erupted back onto his face as he asked what was so funny.

You managed to get through your laughter, barely, the words that you never thought you'd say in your life. "I- I'm in love - with - with you." Before you immediately started giggling again uncontrollably.

Stan joined in on your laughter, his shoulders moving up and down from the force of his laughs as he breathed out "I'm in love with you too."

You both laid there giggling uncontrollably like a pair of middle schoolers, laughing at your own stupidity.

Once the laughter died down you smiled up at Stan and nuzzled yourself into his chest, planting a few soft kisses there as he pulled you in closer and buried his nose into your hair.

You were drawing shapes on his arms, daydreaming in the comfortable silence when you heard Stan mutter into your hair something inaudible.

You sat up gently looking at him quizzically for a second until you noticed the look of pure adoration on his face that was directed to you before he said gravelly and clearly exhausted, "I hate you so much." before he buries his face into your neck and peppered you with kisses.

You giggled and whispered, "I love you too, stupid."

#it fandom #it fanfiction #stanley uris #stanley uris smut #stanley uris x reader #stan uris #stan uris smut #stan uris x reader #it smut #stan it #stan uris it #stanley uris it

[bitches-who-write]

may I request how the gang would react to you checking on them from time to time?? I imagine bowers would just give a wtf look but like he learns to grow on it and b would just find it sweet, but he would never say it out loud

Henry:

Henry is really confused by your act of kindness of checking in on him.

When you first started checking in on him asking how he’s doing, how he’s been feeling, if he needs anything, etc., he doesn’t know how to respond. 

He’s not used to anyone really caring about him, especially in his personal life/home life.

In the beginning, Henry would get angry with your constant checking in.

In a weird way, it made him feel emasculated.

Henry takes anything associated with showing your feelings as a huge sign of weakness. And that’s the last thing he wants to be is weak.

Don’t take it personally but he’ll most likely yell at you to stop asking him questions especially if you’re doing it in front of the other guys.

One on one is a different story, however . 

If you guys are sitting in the open field outside of his house, he’ll open up to you a little more.

Usually he catches himself opening up too much and begins to backpedal.

”Why the fuck do you care anyways?! Doesn’t even matter!”

After he explodes at you and you’re both sitting in silence, he’ll put his arm around your shoulder.

He’ll never say thank you, but take this small act of kindness as his appreciation. 

Belch:

He’s very confused why you’re suddenly asking him questions.

Luckily for Belch, his family is pretty close. As much as he complains about it, his mom makes them all eat dinner together so they can all ‘talk as a family’.

So because he has a good home life, these types of questions aren’t too uncommon.

However, it confuses and weirds him out when it comes from somebody outside of his family.

When you keep asking how he’s doing and how he’s been feeling, he starts to get concerned.

“Why do you keep asking me this, Y/N? Do you know something that I don’t? Am I dying???

“Holy shit, Vic! I might be dying!”

This dude can be pretty dramatic.

Once you  reassure him that he’s not dying, he calms down and casually answers your questions.

He always asks you the same in return, genuinely smiling when you tell him about your day.

Belch grows fond of these daily conversations with you.

Patrick

Listen, Patrick isn’t a normal guy and we can’t stress this enough.

He has a pretty dissociative personality and doesn’t express a lot of personal feelings  unless it’s on his terms.

Usually when you check in on him he’s weary.

Always thinking there’s an alternative motive behind your questions.

You can tell that he’s trying to process and think ahead.

If he’s feeling extra cheeky, he’ll usually give you a smart ass answer.

You just can’t do anything nice for the guy because he doesn’t appreciate it.

Again.. boyfriend material? Absolutely not. But do we all simp for him? Absolutely.

Vic:

Similar to Belch, he finds it enduring.

He’s another one who’s not used to getting attention.

Vic is a quiet guy who keeps to himself so he can easily be overlooked.

He tries not to smile when you acknowledge him and ask him how he’s feeling or check in on him in general.

Honestly, the more you check in on him,the more comfortable he gets around you.

Vic doesn’t catch feelings super easily but this is one way to win him over.

Unlike Henry, he’s not afraid to share his soft side with you.

And because he’s usually so quiet in groups, when you get him one on one, he won’t shut the hell up.   

Getting back to the whole catching feelings thing … don’t be surprised if he ends up falling for you because of your sweet personality.

Thanks for the request @impossibleheartflower

We hope you enjoyed!🖤

#headcanons #henry bowers #henry bowers x reader #patrick hocksetter x reader #imagines #victor criss x reader #bowers gang #it 2017 #itmovie #belch huggins x reader #it fanfiction #horror fanfiction

[kalsiferdraws]

Eddie is definitely not thinking about his best friend while he's on tour. And he definitely isn't pining for that friend. That's just crazy.

#art #digital art #artists on tumblr #my doodles #illustration #it #reddie #eddie kaspbrak #band au #the deadlights #alternative universe #au #it fanart #it fandom #it fanfiction

[house-on-neibolt-st]

REDDIE SHIPPERS IF UR STILL OUT THERE I HAVE RECS FOR U!!!

i present to u: my favorite reddie fics that i've accumulated over the years

hey there demons (its me, ya boy) - dharmainitiative its a buzzfeed unsolved au and its so silly

any fic by dumpsterbeagle but specifically "im talking head first heavy baby, cellar dive" bcs its sooooo good it makes me twirl my hair and kick my legs

hello, stranger - trashmouthrobin as it was the first reddie fic i ever read and it holds a special place in my heart <3

richie tozier versus the flu - loserchildhotpants bcs sick fics r cute

we don't talk about it (we don't have the time) - theletter_a its quite possibly my all time favorite reddie fic (enemies to lovers waterpolo au??? so random but SO GOOD)

i was born a believer, i believe in the way you call me - stormysirens my other fav reddie fic its just so cute and so well written

literally ANY FIC by Car on ao3 every ove ive read so far slaps 🙏😭 two i read recently were Pants On Fire and Cooking Up Trouble but there are so many more

these r all the SFW ones but if u guys want NSFW recs i can do those too :P

#fun fact dumpsterbeagle's name autosuggets in my phone #bcs of how many of their fics i read last summer (every single ine multiple times) #dumspterbeagle if u have tumblr IM YOUR BIGGEST FAN #i have problems #reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction recommendation #fanfiction rec list #reddie fanfic #it #it 2017 #it fanfiction #the losers club

[sunshinereddie]

Richie's plan was simple. Step 1: Find a man. Step 2: Convince that man to pretend to be his husband. Step 3: Prove to his high school bullies that he's not a complete failure. It should have been as easy as that... but things get a little more complicated when Richie finds out who exactly is going to be playing his husband for the night.

the secret reddie fic is finally done and posted- you can now read let’s fall in love for the night on ao3! 

(and in case anyone has a good enough memory, this fic was actually inspired by this hc i posted quite a while ago! so many people asked for it to be written as a fic, so your wish is my command! sorry it took so long to finish!!)

i worked so hard on this fic and i’m very happy with the turnout, so i hope that you all love it as well!! happy reading everyone <3

#reddie #reddie fanfiction #reddie fic #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #reddie hc #reddie headcanon #it #it fanfiction #it 2017 #it 2019

[ambrossart]

Paper Men Faceclaims

@domilino This is super low-effort, but here ya go!

Turns out I don’t have the list anymore, but I do still have access to the story on Wattpad (I had downloaded it a while ago), so I took some screenshots.

Hope this helps! ❤️

#faceclaims #it fanfiction #it stephen king #it 2017 #bowers gang #paper men #paper men faceclaims #ambrossart

[marvelslut16]

Oh baby

Prompt number: 18 "I don't think this is your problem."

Fandom: IT

Pairing: Richie Tozier x reader (aged up to 17 or 18)

Rating: 18+

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Swearing. Teen pregnancy. Mentions of attempted forced abortions. Some angst. Abusive parents. Fluffy in the end.

A/N: This has literally been in my drafts since 2020, and I finally finished it for fictober this year. It is my baby, please be kind to it, I love it so much. The main reason I haven't finished it till now was I was scared people would hate it. The only adulty looking gifs I could find of Finn were from season 4 of ST, whoops. Also, Richie would totally have that hair.

Richie Tozier was undoubtedly the love of your life, the problem being that you two are only in a friends with benefits relationship. It all started one night when the losers were getting drunk in the barrens in celebration of all of you passing your junior year finals, Richie and you snuck out to see the stars and one thing led to another. And the next thing you knew you were pressed up against a tree, denim shorts and cotton undies discarded a foot away, and Richie was thrusting into you. Your drunk inhibitions had been so addicting that you’ve fucked multiple times a week almost every week for the past year. You’ve kept it a secret from you friends, but the looks Bev gives you two makes it fairly obvious that she’s caught on. 

Your friends with benefits relationship had been going great up until recently, when you made the worst mistake of your life. In the heat of the moment you told him those three words you had kept bottled up since that summer with Pennywise, I love you. If Richie understood what you said right away, he didn’t show it. It took him until after he was done for your words to register in his brain, and he immediately got dressed and left in an awkward huff. There was the occasional cuddle afterwards, but usually you’d just go to the living room and play your Atari, or go play street fighters at the arcade. But this time he left with a non comitial ‘see you later,’ and you immediately knew you fucked up. 

The next day at school Richie pretty much ignored you, unless he had to make conversation with you to hide that anything was out of the ordinary to the losers; gone were the flirty comments he would send your way during lunch, and the arm wrapped around your shoulder as you walked from class to class. When Richie went as far as to flirt with a girl in history class you felt a sickness wash over you, it was so intense that you had to rush out of the class and through the halls to make it to the girls bathroom before your lunch came rushing out of you. Your teacher had sent Bev to come collect you, since you had left without a pass, but instead she took you to the nurse and you had to go home early. 

You and your parents had brushed it off as some bad cafeteria food, nothing to worry about. But when you woke up the next morning to the smell of bacon and your stomach started to churn, you knew something more serious was wrong. You spent that day and the rest of the weekend barely leaving your bed, and getting fairly used to the churning in your gut from certain smells. All of a sudden your favorite foods smelled down right nauseating, but you chalked it up to a change in your tastes. Or at least that’s what you told yourself. And when you missed your period two weeks later you told yourself it was just stress from your upcoming graduation and the fall out with Richie.

Your mother figured out your missing periods after your second month. She had come into your bathroom to check your pad supply while making a list of things the maid needed to pick up at the store, at first she was confused that the package of pads was still unopened; but your peckish eating, on and off nausea, and being in a constant state of irritation started to click into place as she realized you were pregnant. You weren’t expecting her to be understanding when she learned the news, but you didn’t expect her to rip you a new asshole. 

“What were you thinking?” your mom storms into your room, unopened box of pads in hand. 

“What are you talking about?” you feign ignorance, subconsciously moving a pillow to rest on your lap to hide your still unshowing belly. 

“You’re irritated, you don’t want to eat what’s for dinner, instead wanting weird concoctions of food, and your pads from two months ago are still unopened!” she throws the box to her right, it smashes into your wall, box opening and pads come tumbling out. “You got yourself knocked up! God, (Y/N), I didn’t think you were this fucking stupid!” 

“I’m just stressed!” you feel anxious tears start to pool in your eyes, you just need to get through the next month and you can leave Derry. Then you can have the kid in New York and your parents would be none the wiser. 

“Bullshit! You stopped drinking coffee,” your mom laughs humorlessly. “I should have known then. What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t!” you cry out, letting the tears you had been holding in for the past two months finally spill. 

“You’re right, you weren’t thinking! Just wait till your father hears about this-” your heart rate spikes at the mention of your father. 

“We don’t have to tell him,” you scramble off the bed and rush to your mother's side, grabbing her hand to try and get her to empathize with you. 

“Don’t tell him?” she lets out a manic laugh, ripping her hand from yours like you’ll taint her somehow. “He’s the goddamn mayor, this will kill his reelection campaign. You’re so fucking niave and self centered (Y/N).”

“I’ll be in New York soon, no one has to know!” your voice goes up an octave, voice rising higher as your desperation grows. 

“You really think I trust you enough to go to New York? Now?” she cocks her head to the side, giving you a calculating look. “You’re not leaving this house until we get this taken care of, and after graduation you’ll be staying in Derry so I can keep my eye on my perfect, innocent, daughter.”

“You can’t do that!” you cry out, taking steps away from your mother. “I’m an adult, I can decide what I do!”

“And look where that got you, knocked up by some deadbeat at eighteen,” your mom gestures to the empty space beside you. “He’s not here right now, he won’t help you take care of a baby. You’ll thank me one day.”

She slams the door to your room behind her as she leaves, you can hear the lock sliding into place. Your parents hadn’t used the lock since you were a child. They used to lock you in your room if the Governor was visiting, or if you got in trouble and your mother had to keep you contained until your father returned home. Walking to the window you assess the distance between your second floor window and the ground below. Coming to the conclusion that it is, in fact, not worth possibly hurting your baby in order to get away from your parents. 

The polaroids of you and Richie tacked to the wall above your desk seem to mock you. Your mom's right, no matter how many plans you made of leaving Derry together, he doesn’t want you. And he sure as hell won’t want the responsibility of the baby growing inside of you. Your eyes land on a picture you took of Richie right after you had made some joke about Eddie’s mom; Richie’s head is thrown back, mouth wide open in laughter, and curls blowing in the wind. Richie may not want you nor your baby, but you aren’t going to deprive the world of another Tozier, a tiny little Richie.

You're so engrossed in studying the picture of Richie that you don’t hear your door being thrown open until it’s too late to block it. There in your doorway is your father; panting, red faced, and steam practically coming out of his ears. If only the people of Derry could see their precious Mayor now, ready to attack his pregnant daughter because it’s bad for his image. He storms up to you, grabbing your arm gruffly, and pushing you into the wall behind you.

“Who’s the fucker that got my idiot daughter knocked up?” he screams, his face so close to yours that his spit is landing on yours. When you don’t respond to his question, he moves his hand from your wrist and grabs both of your shoulders, pulling you forward just to slam you back into the wall. “Answer me you ungrateful bitch!”

“No!” you scream back, kicking your father in the shin as hard as you can. 

“You’re going to fucking regret that,” he shoves you one last time before slightly limping out of the room. 

As soon as he’s gone, you slide down the wall and curl into a fetal position on the ground. Laying in front of you is a polaroid that Bev took of you and Richie one day at the quarry last summer; it was shortly after the two of you had stared hooking up, Richie’s standing behind you, arms wrapped around you, he’s sopping wet from just getting out of the water and you’re almost completely dry, having arrived late from some political lunchin, your white sundress turning transparent from his wet body. Life was a hell of a lot simpler then, and then you had Richie to talk to when your parents were being grade A assholes. 

You spent hours curled up on the floor, or at least that’s what you think because the sun had gone from shining into your room to below the horizon. Your parents never came and got you for dinner, leaving you locked up in your room as they ate the food the chef had prepared. You wait until you hear your father leave his study and head to your parents room before you move from your spot. Immediately moving to your red landline sitting atop your desk, sighing in relief when you hear the dial tone. You start to dial Richie’s number out of habit, before catching yourself and switching to Bev’s. You mutter pleas for her to answer the phone as you type in the extension to the phone in her room. 

“Hello?” Bev sounds half asleep, you probably woke her after she fell asleep doing her homework again. 

“Bev,” your voice cracks as a sob starts to bubble in your chest. 

“(Y/N),” you can hear her shuffling to a seated position, adjusting upon hearing the desperation and fear in your voice. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

“I'm pregnant, Bev” you rush out, glad that you’re finally getting it off your chest to someone you trust. 

“Oh my God,” she murmurs. “Is the father who I think it is?”

“Yes,” you sigh, knowing she means Richie. “My parents found out today, they’re trying to force me to get rid of the baby as soon as possible.” 

“I won’t let anything happen to either of you,” she promises, and you wish you could believe her. 

“I have to go,” you whisper, footsteps getting close to your door. You quickly and quietly hang up the phone, hiding it beneath your desk, hopefully your parents forgot you have your own line. You quickly hop in bed, covering your body to your chin and pretending to be asleep. Light from the hall floods in as your father opens the door, but you make an effort to keep up your sleeping ruse. 

“Don’t worry, everything will be fixed tomorrow morning,” he quietly shuts the door behind him. Tears start to fall as soon as he shuts the door, how can he force you to do this when it isn’t what you want?  

You don’t remember falling asleep, you must have cried yourself to the brink of exhaustion. So you’re more than startled to wake up to yelling downstairs, the voices are muffled but you can clearly make out your father’s voice yelling at someone to get out of his house. You jump out of bed and immediately run to the window to see if there’s a car on the driveway, and there is. You know it’s Richie’s with one glance, the 1975 Mustang Cobra that you helped him rebuild a few summers ago, and leaning against his car is Bev who is looking straight up at your window. 

You run for the door the moment you hear a crash downstairs, hoping that your father forgot to lock the door the last time he checked on you. Luckily he didn’t, so you pull the door open and run down the stairs two at a time. At the bottom of the stairs are shards of what used to be the priceless glass vase that was atop the hutch next to where your father is standing.

“Let me see (Y/N),” Richie’s voice is far more demanding and forceful than he’s ever used with your father, knowing he was the one adult that could really get him in trouble. 

“She’s not here, she was throwing up all yesterday so we took her to the hospital last night,” your father lies effortlessly, using the same inflection that he does when he promises the people of Derry changes he can never provide. “She was dehydrated so they kept her overnight, she should be back in a day or two.” 

“I don’t believe a god damn word that comes out of your mouth,” Richie seethes, his anger only continuing to grow when he catches sight of you on the stairs. “(Y/N), go pack a bag, we’re getting out of here.” 

“I don’t think this is your problem, kid,” your fathers voice is cold and calculating, and you're frozen on the bottom step. you want to listen to Richie and follow him like you’ve always dreamed of, the future could be your oyster, but you also know that your dad has the sheriff in his pocket and could make sure Richie is arrested and sent away for a long time. “Leave while you still can.”

“Like hell it isn’t my problem!” Richie shouts, his Chuck’s crushing the glass into a fine powder as he walks over to you.  “She’s pregnant with my child!”

“You fucker!” spit flies out of your fathers mouth as he screams at Richie, he’s taking large menacing steps towards your lover, so you do the only logical thing, grab Richie’s arm and yank him up onto the stairs, standing in front of him so he doesn’t get punched. “You did this to her?”

“Stop it!” you scream, as your father tries to reach around you to grab Richie. 

Egged on by your father, Richie tries to step around you to throw a punch, turning him around, you push him up the stairs and towards your room. You slam the door behind you, pulling your gaudy pink suitcase- which is covered in stickers from all the places you’ve visited with your parents- out of your closet and start stuffing it with clothes, knick knacks from your dead grandmother, and the polaroids of your friends that adorn your wall. You're closing the suitcase and Richie is shoving more shit in your backpack when your father throws your bedroom door open, his face scrunched up in anger and you can practically see steam billowing out of his ears. 

“You aren’t going anywhere,” he grabs your wrist, nails digging sharply into your skin and creating crescent shaped indents. 

“I’ll tell everyone,” you level with him, it’s a low blow but you know it’ll work. “My indiscretion will hinder your chances of winning reelection, why would people vote for a Mayor who can’t even control his own kid? It’s blasphemous.”

“What do you want?” he asks through gritted teeth, it’s his way of giving into your demands without openly admitting it. 

“Let us go. I’ll stay with Bev or Richie until we graduate, you’ll show up to graduation like the good father you pretend to be. And then I’ll be out of Derry, out of Maine, by the end of summer, long before anyone could notice my pregnancy.”   

He doesn’t respond, not with words at least, instead he steps out of my doorway and lets Richie and I walk past and down the stairs. Neither he nor your mother say anything as you open the front door, not that you’re all that surprised because you're a disgrace in their eyes. They just let the door shut behind you and Richie, and you damn well that you’ll never see them again after graduation. Your heart hurts that they’ll never meet their grandchild, but you're also thankful that your child will never know the conniving abusive ways of your parents.  

Bev runs up to you as you walk down the stone steps of the Mayor’s house, the only home you’ve ever known, and immediately pulls you into a gentle hug. The moment her arms wrap around you you break down, your parents really let you leave, they really don’t care about you, and you have nowhere to go. She keeps her arms wrapped around you as she directs you towards Richie’s stang, she notices your parents matching glares from the living room window. Richie takes your bags and shoves them into the trunk, while Bev climbs into the back of the car, and you begrudgingly take the seat next to Richie. 

The drive to Bev’s is awkwardly silent, except for your occasional sniffles. None of you knows what to say, the last thing any of you ever thought would happen just did; the Mayor’s perfect little Angel got knocked up by the town’s trashmouth, and consequently kicked out. Or as close to being kicked out as one can get. Upon arriving at Bev’s apartment, Richie gets out and lets her climb out that way, with one last encouraging smile she leaves you alone with the father to your child- you’re former friend and fuck buddy. 

“Where am I supposed to go?” you finally ask after fifteen minutes of him driving around in circles. 

“Back home with me,” you can practically hear the duh he added in his head. 

“You don’t have to do that,” you sigh, imagining what his parents' reaction would be to your current situation. “Could you just drive me to Augusta? I’ll find a woman’s shelter there or something.” 

“No!” Richie slams on the breaks, pulling onto the shoulder. Dirt flying everywhere at the force of his abrupt break. “Like I’m gonna fuking let you go anywhere without me toots.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” you bite back, months of anger finally being able to be taken out on the one who’s been causing you all of your hurt. “You don’t give a shit about me, you made that very clear.”

“OH for fuck’s sak, of course I give a shit about you,” he grabs your face with both of his hands, turning it to look at him. “I got scared, so damn scared. I didn’t want to fuck it up with you and lose you. Then you told me you loved me and I got scared, cause I’m a fuck up and I didn’t want to drag you down with me.”

“You aren’t a fuck up, Richie,” you sigh, your anger dissapating at the genuine emotion swimming in his eyes. “But what you did hurt me. You left me high and dry, and pregnant. I didn’t know what to do, I was so scared and the only person I wanted to talk to was ignoring me.”

“I’m so sorry,” he leans forward, resting his forehead on yours. “I wish I had worked up the nerve to tell you I love you that day, instead of running away like some damn pansy. ‘Cause I fuckin’ love you toots.”

“You do?” your hormones forcing a sob out of you at his confession.  

“I do, and I can’t wait to have this baby with you,” his right hand lets go of your face, moving to gently touch your belly. “I just hope they have your eyesight.” 

“I hope they have your gorgeous brown eyes and your big ol’ lips,” you giggle, and Richie can’t help but bark out a laugh. “I love you Richie, with all my heart.”

“Not half as much as I love you,” his left hand moves from your cheek to the back of your head, pulling you in for a long awaited kiss. When his lips slot perfectly with yours, you really feel like the two of you can make this work.

#Fictober #day 3 #fictober22 #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier #richie tozier x you #richie tozier fic #IT #it imagine #it fanfiction #richie tozier imagine

[girlystories]

L'appel du vide (The call of the void)

— pairings: Henry Bowers + Patrick Hockstetter x female/daughter of a cop/new student reader

Summary: after your parents divorce (because your mom is kinda crazy) you move to your dads hometown, back to Derry, and your cousin richie. Additional warnings: refrences of past child abuse Words: 4.1k

next chapter here

Chapter 1: Back to Derry

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑 slowed down as it stopped at a gas station. The driver's door opened, which caused [Name] to wake up. She raised her head, which was earlier rested on her palm. She blinked her eyes, trying to make out what her father was saying to her. 

"I said, do you want me to get you anything?", he repeated, his hand on the door as he slouched and his head under the car, waiting for her answer. 

"Uh," she slurred her words, yawning as she stretched her arms, a satisfying feeling passing through her body to wake her up while the sun was making it difficult for her to think of what to say. "Just some water please."

Her father gave her a thumbsup before turning around. 

"On second thought, I'm kinda hungry. Can I have a sandwich?", she called out from the rolled down window. 

Her father made his way inside, as [Name] shifted in her seat, her arms laying comfortable under her head. She sighed as she stared out the window, not focusing on anything in particular, yet caughting a glimpse of a man filling his car. 

She and her father we're making their way to Derry, Maine, back to their relatives. Despite feeling excited to see her cousin again, she didn't really approve on moving so suddenly. She would miss her friends, her school – heck, even the grumpy teachers and lousy neighbours. 

There was no way of changing her dad's mind, however, since he was so eager to start a new life. She couldn't blame him, though. She and the poor guy couldn't handle the decrease in her mother's sanity any longer. She only grew worse day by day, and it was final once she laid hands on her. Her eyes were unrecognizable, wide and furiously red, as she had her fingers wrapped around [Name]'s throat, squeezing it tight with demise. 

Luckily, she was shoved back and restrained by her father, who later called the police on her and she was taken into court when found out she was abusing drugs, finally filling a divorce and in the end she was send to an asylum. 

This made [Name] wonder if that woman even loved her in the first place. As she thought about it more overtime, she recalled the times her mother gave her the cold shoulder, or the nasty remarks she hissed – tasting like venom on her tensed dry lips. The glaring looks she gave her, feeling like piercing needles ready to strike. 

[Name] instantly wiped some tears that were forming on her eyes, placing a smile on her face as her dad made his way back, bringing with him the stuff he bought. 

He closed the door as he sat on the driver's seat, holding the bag for [Name] to take. "As you ordered, madam. Sandwich and a bottle of water," he teased. 

She chuckled. "Oh, why thank you, kind sir," she said before taking a big bite of the chicken sandwich. "Man, I'm so hungry."

"Well, you should've prepared some food from home for the ride," he said, taking a cigarette out of his new pack, placing it on his lips, and turning the engine back on – which roared back alive, going backwards and on the road back to Derry. "I told you in the morning but you ignored me." 

She rolled her eyes, not in the mood for bickering at the moment, instead changing the question. "So like, you gonna be working as a cop at Derry now?" 

"Policeman, not a cop, [Name]. And yes, I've taken care of it on the phone," his eyes were focused on the road, taking a turn. "A guy of mine was kind enough to brag about my services back home."

[Name] hummed, not particularly interested in listening to the conversation, instead taking a moment to appreciate her hunger decreasing, savoring the chicken in contrast with the sauce and the variety of spices. 

She looked out the window, trees passing as they were now driving through the dirt road. The wind blew through her hair, a breeze filling the car. 

Her father remained silent for a moment and he sighed. "Listen, sweetheart, I know it's hard for you moving away and all but I'm sure you'll have a great time there and settle down nicely," he smiled as he recalled memories of his hometown. "Besides, you'll catch up with little Richie again." 

"Well, I'm sure he's not little anymore. How many years has it been? Like five, six?", she tried to count, licking her fingers in doing so. "How old is that little prick now anyway?"

"[Name], watch your language please," her father said and she giggled in response. "I think he's about thirteen or twelve. Three years younger than you." 

"I'm sixteen, dad." 

"Thirteen then." 

"Oh my god, dad. Did you really not remember the age of your own daughter?" 

He lifted his fingers holding the lighted cigarette off the wheel in defense. "No, I didn't forget your age, honey. I'm just, really tired at the moment." 

She shook her head in disbelief. "Yeah, right."

"I mean it." 

"Whatever you say can't save you now, dad." 

He chuckled. "Really now?"

"Yes," she replied blankly, now finishing her sandwich. 

   Finally arriving, she took out one of her earplugs and pausing her music, raised her head to look around her new "home". Crippled narrow roads filled with puddles, with short trees that looked hardly standing by the constant floods and hurricanes. She almost cringed at the almost rundown looking buildings. 

What eased her nerves were the stores here and there, them being: Brew & Chew Café, Doughy Delights Pizzeria, and Smile N’ Delight. Her eyes also caught a glimpse of the arcade, and she was sure Richie would probably spend his time there, playing aimlessly like his life depended on it. Not like she planned on going there, but still. It proved the existence that people lived there and it wasn't as deserted as it seemed. 

"Are we there?" 

"Sure are," he answered, searching for his sisters house. He smiled, "nothing has changed a bit."

"We haven't been gone that much for anything to change. I mean who even comes here anymore?"

Her father ignored her remark, taking a turn and slowing down as they reached that all familiar house [Name] hang out to when she was younger. They came to a stop and he got out of the car, while [Name] did the same, yet not so eager. 

"Wentworth! How long has it been?", her father said as the front door opened, her uncle grabbing his palm and patting him on the back. 

"You tell me," her uncle replied. "You were the one who decided to move out." 

He chuckled. "Well, [Mother Name] wouldn't stop pressuring me and all. You know how she was." 

This made [Name]'s aunt's smile fade, feeling somehow remorseful. "Ah, I'm so sorry about that, [Father Name]... We couldn't believe it when you told us all about it on the phone," her eyes looked at [Name], making her smile widely, her eyes wrinkling at the sides as they widened. She exclaimed and she walked over to her with raised arms, squeezing her cheeks which made [Name] groan slightly. Yet she didn't mind it much, always appreciating her aunt's weird ways of affection. 

"Little [Name]! Ah, I can't believe how much you've grown. You're basically a lady now!", she noted, placing her palms on her shoulders and taking a better look at her, taking her time to "fix" her shirt and hair. 

[Name] chuckled awkwardly, not knowing how to respond. "Hey, missed you too, Aunt Maggie. Uh, is Richie home?" 

"Oh, yes," she turned around, "Richie, get your ass here!"

After a few annoyed grumbles, a boy with dark hair came down the stairs. [Name] noted his increase in height and glasses who seemed to be thicker than how she remembered, making his eyes appear way bigger. He still had a couple of freckles drawn on his slighty chubby cheeks – even though he had a relatively slim figure. She threw an arm over his shoulder, snickering at his annoyance and trying to get off her hold.

"How's my little blabbermouth been?", she remarked and forced him into a hug. He groaned in response, mostly by the nickname but returning the hug happily. 

"You haven't changed a bit, asswipe," he replied with the same tone. Still, his grip tightened around her. "You were still missed, though. As much as I hate to admit it." 

That made her smile, and she let go of him, "Aw," she cooed. "I'm flattered, but it's very much expected," she replied proudly. 

"Ha ha," Richie stated, his tone linked full of sarcasm. "Just make sure you stay this time," he scoffed, "I remember when you had to leave last time you were crying your eyes out. Your nose was full of snot and stuff. Gross." 

[Name] narrowed her eyes, raising her brow. "That's not true. I don't ever recall that happening."

"Well, I do," he rolled his wide eyes behind his thick square glasses, smirking. "Right, mom?" 

"Huh? What did you say, sweetie?", she asked, not listening to him in the slightest, too absorbed in the conversation with her husband and brother. 

"Nevermind," Richie rumbled. "Say, you wanna join me and my friends? Oh – I forgot to mention – remember Bill? Well, we are now in a group with two other guys and we call ourselves The Losers Club, and it's freaking awesome!" 

[Name] couldn't help but laugh. "The Losers Club? That sounds... pretty lame." 

"That's the point, genius," he rolled his eyes again. "The thing is, you gotta join us, we always have so much fun and stuff." 

"Maybe another time, kiddo. I'm pretty tired and I gotta start unpacking and I need get ready for school tomorrow. I've missed enough as it is."

Richie groaned. "Fineee. But you will come with us one day, I'm telling you." 

[Name] ruffled his hair. "Okay okay, I get it!" 

"Augh! Not the hair, man! Not cool", he tried to push her hand away, but to no avail as she wrapped an arm around his neck and continued in forcefully ruining his curly locks. 

 

   The next day [Name] was woken up but her father, completely ignoring her alarm clock at 6:30 am. She groaned and placed a pillow over her head, trying to block out her father's cheery but annoying voice through the kitchen. 

She had to get up, though, when her father made his way into her bedroom and forcefully throwing the covers off her – much to her dismay. She raised her upper body, holding her weight with her elbows. Her eyes were puffy and red, a trail of drool beginning from her bottom lip and ending at her chin. A sight Richie would definitely make fun of, but he was in the same spot, as her dad did the same, but instead chose to grab Richie and spin him around, just like the way parents played with their month-old babies. 

Richie – fully confused, and instead of cheering like a baby would – almost shrieked, his legs swaying back and forth, looking for a sturdy ground to balance himself and his arms trying to get a tight grip on his uncle. Without wearing his glasses, he wasn't able to see clearly, screaming: "What the hell is going on?!" 

[Name]'s dad, not reducing his speed in the slightest, continued, "Wake up, big guy! You're gonna miss school!" 

Richie, steadying his breath, replied, "Okay okay, I get it! Just get me down! For the love of—" 

Just as he requested, his uncle complied, a satisfied smile on his features. He slapped his nephew's back lightly. "Come to the kitchen quick. I've prepared breakfast." 

[Name] still in her bed – but not daring to lay back down, (in fear of her dad shaking her awake again) stared blankly at the wall, ignoring the commotion from Richie's room completely. She rubbed her half closed eyes, and dragged herself out of bed, choosing a simple and convenient outfit for the day, since her stuff and wardrobe hadn't been delivered in their new home fully yet. She grabbed her almost empty backpack, which contained only her pencil case and a couple of notebooks, and she slowly made her way to the kitchen, dropping on her seat feeling like a zombie. She tried to rest her heavy head on her palm, yet it fell on the table sharply. 

"Ah ah," her father scolded. "Wake up, sweetie. It's your first day today." 

She groaned in response. 

"I'll give you a ride to school, so eat quick. I have work to get to," he explained further, flipping an egg from the pan. 

"I'm sorry but how can you be so excited so early in the morning, uncle? I mean, no offense," Richie asked from the table, rubbing his glasses with his shirt. He turned to [Name], "is he always like this?" 

She grabbed a toast from the table, which was applied with butter smoothly, and took a bite, her eyes still half closed. "Yes."

"Damn."

   After a quick – and not so satisfying breakfast, Mr. [Last Name] gave the both a ride and went to work. For the first time Richie wasn't late. A rare occurance, mainly because he took ages to get ready but also because both his parents weren't able to drive him to school because of work. 

"Well, I guess I'll see you later, asswipe," Richie held up his palm for a high-five. [Name] looked at him unfazed, almost rolling her eyes, clearly not in the mood so early in the morning. Still, she didn't leave him hanging and groaned under her breath. 

"Remember, don't steal food from the cafeteria."

"Don't you mean, don't do drugs – or something?" 

[Name] walked pass him, pushing her body on the school's front entrance. "Whate—", before she could finish, she felt a heavy force colliding against her. She yelped in response, being shoved backwards.

The person groaned in annoyance, also surprised by the sudden force. "What the fu—", the voice suddenly paused. [Name] took a moment to study the person. He was tall, his blonde hair messily styled in a mullet. His blue eyes were staring back at her, also studying her. His seemengly muscular built wasn't as apparent under his t-shirt which was being covered under his denim jacket, his sleeves being pushed high above his elbows. It was more of a fashion choice than an affect to keep warm in the cold weather of October. 

She didn't know how long they kept eye contact, but it came to a stop as his features furrowed, pursing his lips. He shoved pass her, his shoulder bumping into hers while he mumbled under his breath: "Get outta my way." 

She scoffed in response, raising a brow and walking into the halls, Richie following quickly behind her. "Oh my god," he gasped. 

"What?", she questioned, looking around for the principal's office. 

"You just ran into Henry Bowers!", he explained. 

"I didn't ran into him. More like he bumped into me." 

He quickly shook his head. "That's not the point, dumbass," he walked in front of her, making her stop in her tracks to get her attention. "The point is that he and his lovely little friends have been making our lives hell for how many years now. I'm honestly surprised he didn't murder you just now."

"He what?", [Name] asked, her eyes finally widening since this morning. 

"Yeah," Richie said, beginning to walk again with her by his side, passing the other students in the halls as they chatted among themselves. "They're all complete psychos."

"How did you say his name was? Henry Bowers, was it?", she asked and slowed down when she noticed the principal's office in the corner. "Where have I heard of it before?" 

"Man, I don't know. But I'm telling you. Just don't make him mad. Ever." 

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it, big guy," she said, shifting her backpack as the school bell rang. She made herself a new goal for the year. 

Richie raised a brow. "What do you mean? I don't like that look," he noted. 

"Just, go to class, okay? I'll see you guys later," she shoved him softly, and he stumbled a bit, glancing back at her with a bit of worry, but made his way to class. 

She didn't know how and why that guy seemed so familiar to her, but she didn't care either. No one is allowed to make fun of her cousin. No one. Except maybe her, but they were family. It's understandable. But him? Who did he think he is? 

She decided to keep an eye on him and his stupid mullet. 

[Name] was about to knock the open door but stopped when she saw a lanky guy staring at the principal blankly, his mind wandering off and not paying the slightest attention to him. The principal sighed, his hand waved towards the door, dismissing him as he finished, "that's about it. If you and Bowers get send here one more time, I'll have to take drasting measures. You'll get a pass this time. Mainly because it's your first time, Hockstetter. Now get your ass to class." 

The guy in question – Hockstetter, as he was mentioned – fixed his posture at the statement, the corners of his mouth forming into a smile. He left without question, his grey-green eyes meeting [Name]'s as he walked pass the door, twinkling with curiosity. She swore she saw him lick his bottom lip just as he left. 

"And make sure Bowers actually goes to class this time!", the principal shouted and [Name] wondered if his orders even reached the guy's ears. 

So this guy is one Richie's bullies, [Name] noted. 

She decided to keep that in mind later as she walked inside. The principal held the bridge of his nose, sighing. When he noticed her, he grasped his hands together as he tried to recall her name. He remained with only parted lips as he failed in figuring out who she was. 

"Hello, Mr – uh," she trailed off, trying to remember his name that her dad mentioned on the ride. "Mr. Corbin, I'm the new student. I think my father spoke to you on the phone." 

His features softened, bringing a hand on his grey and combed hair. "Ah, yes! Mr. [Last Name], I believe. Yes, I've got your schedule prepared right here," he said, rolling back with his chair and opening his drawer, taking out a paper and handing it to [Name]. "It was pretty much a hassle trying to sort your lessons, since you arrived a bit later, but eventually we managed."

She whispered a soft "Sorry" in response. 

"How very nice for us to welcome a new student. I hope you like it here. Ah, did you move here recently, miss [Last Name]?" 

She quickly skimmed over her schedule, and looked back at Mr. Corbin. "Yes. Yesterday actually."

"I see," he replied, fixing his mustache. "Well, I hope you settle down nicely. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some work to finish," he rolled on his chair forward, placing his hands together once again. "If you need any help, don't be afraid to come to my office."

[Name] smiled at him. "Thank you so much, Mr. Corbin," she said and walked out, looking over her schedule. She hummed, feeling not so glum about it, only groaning when she saw she had to chose an extracurricular, but also hoping there were good options to chose from at the very least. She noticed a note, written roughly with a pen; locker: 74. 

She made her own inner note to check it out later. 

Now, she hurried herself to her first period, being World History. It took her while to find the class, and she was sure she'd get some nagging from the teacher. She hesitantly knocked on the door and slowly opened it. Peeking over the gap, she noticed all the students attention being on her. She stepped inside, clearing her throat. 

"Sorry I'm late, Mr –", she looked at her schedule, "Mr. Okley." 

Mr. Okley stopped writing on the board, turning his focus on her. "It's okay, I suppose," his voice indicated his boredom which were proved by his uninterested expression. "You're the new student, yes?"

She nodded. "Yes, my name is [Name] [Last Name]."

His face brightened, his blank expression being replaced by a small smile. "Ah, [Last Name]? I know your father. We used to be classmates together. Really funny fellow, I tell you," he chuckled. "Make sure to tell him I say hi, alright?" 

[Name] smiled, trying to ignore people's stares. "I will."

"We're on page forty-three. You can take a seat over there," he pointed at an empty seat next to the window. 

"I don't have a book."

"Right," he hummed, looking around his desk for a spare book. "I can't seem to find one right now. Just sit next to Victor for now and come by my office later."

The guy in question raised his head from his palm, being shaken out of his thoughts. [Name] dragged a chair and sat next to him, who scooted to the side to make some some space for the both. 

She held her hands close, feeling awkward by the closeness between them. But she tried her best to ignore it, taking notes when she thought was necessary. 

As she wrote, her pall pen started leaving less and less ink. She pressed harder, but the pen refused to work, as if it suddenly decided to go against her. 

"Shit," she cursed under her breath. She turned to Victor, who had his undoubted attention on Mr. Okley who explained about the Rise of Rome. 

"Do you have an extra pen?"

His attention was disturbed again. He shifted in his seat, blinking like he was just woken up. "Oh, yeah," he searched his bag and held one for her. 

"Thanks," she took it, smiling warmly at him. 

"So, why the sudden change or schools?", he asked. 

"Oh, you know. The usual reasons," she wrote on her notebook, testing if it worked. It was an obvious attempt of her deflecting the question. 

Victor didn't attemt to pressure her in saying anymore, turning his attention back at the lesson. 

The bell rang indicating the end of the lesson. All the students gathered their things, chatting among themselves as they made their way outside. 

Just as [Name] was about to do the same Mr. Okley called her. 

"Wait here for a moment, I'll go and fetch your book, alright?"

With that she waited, watching the classroom becoming less and less crowded. Her mind started wondering along, when she was being shoved forward. Her shoulder bumping with an all too familiar muscular one, snickering as he made his way towards Victor. Two others followed, passing her like she was nonexistent. 

Her face soured. 

Henry and Hockstetter loud vocals filled the room, shooting at Victor about who knows what. [Name] was unable to identify the other figure. He was the most noticeable large one of the group. 

With the realization that Victor was in their little group, it made the girl's disappointment more visible. 

Mr. Okley came back, holding a thick book. "This is it," he opened it, flipping through the pages. "We've covered all of these. Make sure to study them until next week. We'll be having an exam on Monday."

She scrunched her nose, which didn't go unnoticed. 

"Now now, it's not too much," he chuckled at her reaction. "It has very vague information and it's pretty easy to grasp. I'm sure you can do it."

She wasn't convinced and he continued. "If it's too much for you, then I'll guess I could give you an extra week."

"Really?"

He winked. "Just don't tell anyone," he waved his hands. "Now, run along!"

She chuckled and scooted over the door, but stopped when she remembered something. She glanced over at her classmate by the window, being surrounded by the mullet asshole and the creepy lanky guy – and the guy she couldn't recognize. He was frowning at his friends, telling them to "shut up" while they joked around. 

She sighed under her breath and turned her heel, walking over to him. She looked to the ground, avoiding their gazes as she came closer. 

"You, uh, forgot your pen," she held it out for him, only locking eyes with his as he stopped his bickering. Their laughs also came to a stop, observing her from head to toe. 

He took it, and before he could answer she swung around, storming out of the classroom. Her chest was bounding and her breath was shaky. 

She meet the Bower Gang on her first day and managed to survive.

#:ssnowville #:snowville #[🌸] #it x reader #it fanfiction #bowers gang x reader #bowers gang #henry bowers x reader #patrick hocksetter x reader

[dollfxcx]

can you write something about jealous!Pennywise? maybe some marking like bites and shit like that??

I'm finally back!! sorry it took long I was busy!!

TW: nsfw, blood, body gore

Word count: (1.7k+)

"How come they never let you go out alone? Do I look like a murderer that much?" Dave asks, wrapping an arm around your waist, and you shrug.

"Both my parents and…my best friend are missing. Richie's just worried about my safety, I guess." Dave hums, nodding his head slightly.

"Got it. Well, if anything happens, I'm here." You chuckle at the offer and nod, watching the sun dip below the horizon, Dave stops abruptly, grabbing your wrist and tilting his head down to look you in the eye.

"What--" you don't have time to finish the sentence as his lips crash on yours, his hands tighten around your hips as you both back away into the dark alley, Dave pins you against the wall, he pushes one of his thighs between your legs, and it's just as his mouth moves down your neck that you hear a voice.

"Your mother never taught you not to take other people's belongings, Davey?" Dave whirls around, eyes narrowed suspiciously, his fingers tightening protectively around your hips.

"Can I help you?" he asks the man who appears in front of him, his hands are buried in his pockets and his back is bent in a springy position. Pennywise approaches you and grabs your arm, pulling you towards him under the astonished gaze of Dave, who immediately addresses him.

"What the fuck, man? Who do you think you are?" Out of the corner of your eye you can see Pennywise grinning almost gleefully, he extends a hand to him with feigned kindness.

"Robert Gray, at your service. Now if you'll excuse us." In his human form, Pennywise turns around, still squeezing your arm, and starts to walk away, under the shocked gaze of Dave, who looks like a fish out of water.

"Y/n, what the fuck is going on?" he finally inquires, craving answers, his mouth slightly parted in a stunned expression.

"I don't... Look, I'll explain everything to you, I promise." you assure him, letting Pennywise drag you away, a low growl bubbling in his throat as he does. As you turn around the corner, you plant your feet and blurt out.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Pennywise covers your mouth with his hand, his blue eyes gleaming gold as his lips come close to your ear.

"You better watch your tongue, pet. I'm seething already." And with a snap of his fingers, you're both in your room, Pennywise grabs you by the hips and viciously throws you onto the bed.

"What the hell are you doing? Richie was behind us, he must have seen us, he might come in and--" your sentence is cut short as Pennywise, back in his clown form, abruptly lands on top of your body, taking your breath away.

"They only see what I want them to see." he snarls, one hand yanks your shirt off, some buttons fall clacking to the floor. He buries his nose against the skin of your shoulder, you hear him grumble angrily.

"I ordered you not to go out with filthy humans anymore." his lips brutally drag against your skin as he begins to slam his crotch against yours in slow strokes.

"And I told you I don't really like following orders." you stammer as you feel his rough tongue begin to lick your skin, the bite mark he left on you that was covered by concealer now visible again.

"Oh, what a naughty pet you've been. Covering my mark like that… thought you could get away with Little Davey? Did you think I'd let you?" The question is rhetorical and you can't even answer because Pennywise crawls down from your body, taking off your pants with a jerk and, noticing that you're not wearing underwear, he glares at you.

"Oh yes, you certainly did." he clicks his tongue in disgust and disappointment, writhing in on himself until you can only see his eyes and a shock of red hair peek out between your spread legs. Even though his clown form is remotely humanoid, the golden glow of his gaze is far from human, he's hungry and furious.

"Scream and I'll rip your arm off." he warns you, no hint of playfulness or teasing in his tone, you blink quickly as if that might be enough to prepare you for the worst. You watch tensely as one of his hands lets his claws out, they trace a trail from the skin of your neck to the one just below your navel, a touch so light it makes you shiver. Time seems to stop when one of his claws begins to dig lightly into your flesh, you let out a startled yelp, he glares at you to remind you of his warning. His finger moves slowly across your skin, carving small rune-like letters you can't translate, your head falls back on the pillow as you let the warm sensation that is rising from the painful experience spread through your entire body. When he finishes carving, he sighs with satisfaction, his tongue sweeping over each rune to lick off the blood that drips from them.

"Look at you, just letting me do this to you without objection, so obedient. So pretty for me." he whines, a sinister smile on his face, as he pulls himself up from the mattress to admire his work, he runs one of his fingers, almost fondly, over the writing on your skin. You moan as, eyes narrowed in expectation, you feel him crawl up onto your body again, so close he could sit on your chest, your face practically against his crotch. You look up at him, your hands tighten around his calves, and he stares back, lids almost completely closed as he peers down at you. One of his hands reaches for your cheek, caressing it almost affectionately at first, then grabbing it with more force, he lowers his face towards yours.

"I also told you I don't like when you misbehave, didn't I?" he asks when you complain at his hard grip on your cheeks.

"Do you think you deserve kindness, pet?" he continues, pushing the tip of his thumb between your lips, you give it a swift suck, blinking quickly with feigned innocence. Pennywise can't hold back a grin, his free hand moves to the zipper of his trousers, which then disappear with a snap of his fingers, as you've seen him do so many times, his monstrous body seen from your perspective always has something divine which he can never completely free himself from.

"Oh, I know exactly what you deserve..." he murmurs, arching his back and starting to stroke his tentacle-like cock slowly, his hips having sudden spasms that bring him dangerously close to your mouth from time to time. Your legs start to tremble since you don't know if you'll be able to do much in this position, utterly uncomfortable for you, he's the only one able to move being on top of you, and since you're stuck between his body and the mattress. Pennywise grunts under his breath, his thumb caressing the tip from which a little precum is already oozing out.

"Open." he orders you, narrowing his eyes and digging a hand into your hair, grabbing it tightly and pulling your face slightly upwards. You can't and won't do anything but obey, letting his cock slide between your lips with ease, the sound of your squelchy saliva ringing in your ears.

"That's it, good. Take me, alllll the way. Tastes good?" he asks, you can see how his eyes roll back in pleasure, so you nod frantically, so much so that your teeth involuntarily rub against his oversensitive skin, which makes him groan and thrust into your mouth.

"Don't bite, or I will bite you." you know he's not kidding so you suck on his cock harder in search of magnanimity and he seems to like it as his grip on your hair tightens, his fingers pressing against the back of your head to propel you further forward. After a few minutes you hear him panting, and you can't help but moan when you see his body on top of yours covered in a light layer of glistening sweat, which makes him shine even in the dark of night. Pennywise frowns, his hips shaking, and you feel his knees give out for a split second, your palms clasped around his calves feel the tendons tense.

"So good for me." you hear him mumble, he then grabs your shoulders and pushes you further down, throwing the pillow away so that your head now lays solely on the mattress, depriving you of the only advantage you had over him, now completely blocked and at his mercy.

"Now stay still and let Pennywise fuck your pretty mouth, mh?" Without waiting for an answer, he arches his back and leans on his arms to sink into you, thrusting in and out, up and down as if he were doing push-ups. You choke around his cock more than once, unable to move or slow his pace, and that seems to turn him on even more, he thrusts into your mouth until the tip caresses your throat, stimulating your gag reflex, and sits still in that position for a few seconds, as if it were a plug, if your eyes weren't veiled with tears you would be able to see his teeth becoming sharper as his pleasure increases. With a broken moan, he cums

into your mouth, but he doesn't stop moving his hips, making sure to pump every single drop down your throat. When he collapses on you, after almost affectionately wiping the corners of your mouth, you hear him purr, his nose nuzzles up against your neck, and you can't help but run a hand through his ginger hair, which makes him mumble in a language you don't know.

"What do those runes mean, by the way?" you ask, referring to the writing he engraved on your belly, Pennywise shakes his head slightly and purrs even louder, his teeth gliding over your skin delicately, without malicious intentions.

"It means everything and it means

nothing." he then mumbles, his arms wrap around your waist possessively, you can't help but roll his eyes.

"Now sleep."

#it 2017 #pennywise #pennywise the clown #pennywise x reader #it (stephen king) #pennywise headcanon #fanfic #fanfiction #pennywise the dancing clown #pennywise x you #ao3feed #it fanfiction #it fandom #pennywise fanfiction #clownlove #clownfucker

[bitches-who-write]

I have an idea/request. Being Victor's best friend, like they met in 5th grade or some shit, and (y/n) has a fat crush on Patrick and tells vic, and (y/n) starts going out with pat. I know it is odd but I think it would be funny to see vic's reaction.

Thank You! 💛

Hello there lovely Anon! This one is for you! Hope it's what you were looking for. Enjoy!

When you first told Vic his eyes practically bugs out of his head.

He leans forward as if he just heard the most obscene shit in the world. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a minute.  What the hell did you just say, Y/N?”

He’s half laughing but still in disbelief.

See, you grew up with Vic so he knows you like the back of his hand -or so he thought.

But it’s safe to say, Vic never saw this news coming.

You and Vic met back in 5 grade but now you’re both 19 yrs old.

Somehow, despite the crowd Vic hangs with, you’ve managed to remain best friends. 

You smack Vic  playfully and tell him to shut up.  “Seriously, I don’t get why you’re making this a big deal.  Plus, Patrick is totally into me”. You say to Vic.

There’s no doubt this was true.  Patrick has been eyeing you since the day Vic introduced you to the gang last year.

It was definitely weird for Vic to see his very different friendship groups overlap like this. This wasn't suppose to happen

Not gonna lie, Patrick's personality is begining to wear off on you so you’re becoming more reckless the more you’re with Patty-cakes here.

Vic is getting irritated by this. Blaming you for "changing"

But in reality, that’s not what’s truly bothering Vic.

The truth of the matter is, Vic likes you and always had a crush on you.

Seeing you with Patrick gets to him but he’ll never admit it.

Although you’re oblivious to this (too love drunk to notice), Patrick sees what’s going on here.

Think he’ll be a good friend though?  NOPE.

He rubs it in Vic’s face every chance he gets

As you were leaving the house one day, Patrick lets you go into the car first. 

As he’s passing by Vic, (without you noticing) he leans close to say, “Better luck next time, bud.”

With that he smacks the top of the car, slides in and it's hands all over you from here on out.

Vic stands there gritting his teeth but doesn’t say shit. No offense but Vic is hoping this relationship ends real soon…

Maybe he’ll have a shot with you then… just maybe.

#headcanons #patrick hocksetter x reader #imagines #bowers gang #bowers gang x reader #it fanfiction #it fandom #patrick hockstetter. #henry bowers x reader #henry bowers #belch huggins x reader #it 2017

[red-balloons-and-flashing-lights]

I'm writing an IT fanfic - what should I do?

In this fanfic they're 15-16, it's set up in the 90's, and Pennywise is around - now I'm thinking about whether to get any of the kids to die, or should I rather keep it canon-ish and have them all stay alive to fight It again (aka what happens in IT Chapter 2)?

#🎈📊} fanfic #losers club #it 2017 fanfic #it fanfiction #it 2017 #it movie #it stephen king #ben hanscom #beverly marsh #eddie kaspbrak #bill denbrough #richie tozier #stanley uris #pennywise #it fandom #it chapter one #poll #tumblr polls #my polls #fanfic poll #ao3 writer #writeblr #fanfiction

[fuqsketti]

ugh i wanna make a super smutty multi-part fic ab richie and mike- the rowdy tozier twins who both have a massive crush on y/n.

richie is so loud and outgoing with affection and mike is super quiet and reserved with his <3

AND Y/N IS LIKE OBLIVIOUS???

idk i love the idea of two brothers fighting for one girl haisjwisi

would anyone even want to read this?

#richie tozier #richie tozier fanfiction #richie tozier imagine #richie tozier x reader #finn wolfhard #finn wolfhard imagine #finn wolfhard x reader #mike wheeler #mike wheeler imagine #mike wheeler x reader #it 2017 #it 2019 #it chapter one #it chapter two #it fanfiction #it imagine #stranger things x you #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things #stranger things 1 #stranger things 2 #stranger things 3 #stranger things 4

[tatortotqueen]

𝐁𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬

𝐟𝐭. 𝐇𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐲 𝐁𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐇𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬, 𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐝 "𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐡" 𝐇𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐬

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐇𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐲 𝐁𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬:

ʜᴇɴʀʏ'ꜱ ᴍᴀɪɴ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀɪꜱᴛɪᴄꜱ ᴀʀᴇ; ᴄʟɪɴɢʏ, ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ

ᴀꜱ ᴀ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ʜᴇɴʀʏ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴄʟɪɴɢʏ. ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇʟʏ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ʀᴇꜱᴏʀᴛ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴛᴀʟᴋɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴛᴀʙꜱ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ. ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴏ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴜɴᴇᴀꜱʏ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴇɴꜱᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ'ꜱ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ. ʜᴇɴʀʏ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʜᴇꜱɪᴛᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴏᴀᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏ ʜᴇ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡꜱ. ʜᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡꜱ ᴇxᴀᴄᴛʟʏ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘ, ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀᴋᴇ ᴜᴘ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴏʀ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀᴡᴇᴀʀ, ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅᴏɢ'ꜱ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ᴇᴄᴛ.... ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴄᴀᴍᴘ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴜɢᴇ ᴛʀᴇᴇ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴀᴄᴋʏᴀʀᴅ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ɢɪᴠᴇꜱ ʜɪᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ ᴠɪᴇᴡ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴏᴏᴍ. ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ ʜɪᴍ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʟʟ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴛꜱ ɪꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ ʜɪᴍ. ᴛʜᴇ ꜱʜʀɪɴᴇ ʜᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ɪɴ ʜɪꜱ ꜱʜᴇᴅ ɢʀᴏᴡꜱ ʟᴀʀɢᴇʀ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʏ. ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ'ꜱ ᴘɪᴄᴛᴜʀᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱʜᴏᴡᴇʀ, ᴄʟɪᴘᴘɪɴɢꜱ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴀɪʀ ᴇᴄᴛ... ʜᴇ'ʟʟ, ʜᴇ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ʜᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄʜᴀᴘꜱᴛɪᴄᴋ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ꜰɪɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ꜰᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴍᴀᴋᴇꜱ ꜱᴜʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏᴜꜱᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱʜʀɪɴᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀꜰᴜᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴡᴇᴀʀ. ꜱᴜʀᴇ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴄᴀʟʟ ʜɪᴍ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴄᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜ ʙʟᴀᴍᴇ ʜɪᴍ.

𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐇𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫:

ᴘᴀᴛʀɪᴄᴋ'ꜱ ᴍᴀɪɴ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀɪꜱᴛɪᴄꜱ ᴀʀᴇ; ꜱᴀᴅɪꜱᴛɪᴄ, ɪᴍᴘᴜʟꜱɪᴠᴇ

ᴘᴀᴛʀɪᴄᴋ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʏᴘᴇ ᴏꜰ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀꜰᴀʀ. ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʏᴘᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴇɴɢᴀɢᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ. ɪꜰ ʜᴇ ꜱᴇᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴛʀᴜɢɢʟɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ʀᴜɴ ᴜᴘ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏꜰꜰᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʟᴘ ʏᴏᴜ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴀᴛ ɢᴇᴛꜱ ʟᴏꜱᴛ ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ʙʀɪɴɢ ɪᴛ ʙᴀᴄᴋ. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴏʀʀʏ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ᴍɪᴛᴛᴇɴꜱ ᴡᴀꜱ ꜱᴀꜰᴇ ɪɴ ʜɪꜱ ᴄᴀʀᴇ, ʜᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴘʟᴀɴɴɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ɢɪᴠɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀʀ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴀᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ. ᴘᴀᴛʀɪᴄᴋ ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ꜱᴏ ʜɪꜱ ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴜɴᴘʀᴇᴅɪᴄᴛᴀʙʟᴇ. ᴡʜᴇɴ ʜᴇ ꜰɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴ ʜɪꜱ ɢʀᴀꜱᴘ ʜᴇ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋɪɴᴅᴇꜱᴛ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀ ꜱʜᴏᴄᴋᴇʀ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ꜱᴏ ɴɪᴄᴇ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ꜱɪɴᴄᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ʜɪꜱ ɴᴏᴡ ʜᴇ ꜱᴇᴇꜱ ɴᴏ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ɪɴ ᴋᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴀᴄᴀᴅᴇ. ᴘᴀᴛʀɪᴄᴋ ʜᴀꜱ ᴠᴇʀʏ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴘᴀᴛɪᴇɴᴄᴇ ꜱᴏ ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴇꜱᴄᴀᴘᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴀɴɢᴇʀ ʜɪᴍ. ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴɢᴇʀ ʜɪᴍ ʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ʜᴜʀᴛꜱ ʏᴏᴜ. ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟɪᴀɴᴛ ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʏᴘᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ʜᴜʀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏᴄᴄᴀꜱɪᴏɴᴀʟʟʏ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ʜᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇꜱ ꜱᴇᴇɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴ ᴘᴀɪɴ.

𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬:

ᴠɪᴄᴛᴏʀ'ꜱ ᴍᴀɪɴ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀɪꜱᴛɪᴄꜱ ᴀʀᴇ; ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ, ꜱᴜʙᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ

ᴀʟᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ᴠɪᴄᴛᴏʀ ɪꜱ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴏꜰ ʜᴇᴇʟꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ, ʜᴇ'ꜱ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ᴛɪᴍɪᴅ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴏᴀᴄʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ. ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʏᴘᴇ ᴏꜰ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ'ʟʟ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰʟᴏᴡᴇʀꜱ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅᴏᴏʀꜱᴛᴇᴘ ᴛʜᴇɴ ʀɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴏʀʙᴇʟʟ ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪᴅᴇ. ᴡʜᴇɴ ʜᴇ ꜱᴇᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘɪᴄᴋ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴜᴘ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʙʟᴜꜱʜ ᴄᴏᴀᴛꜱ ʜɪꜱ ꜰᴀᴄᴇ. ꜱᴇᴇɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ɪꜱ ᴀʟʟ ʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴡᴀɴᴛꜱ. ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴍɪꜱꜱ ʜᴀɴɢɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏʏꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴜꜱʜᴇꜱ. ʜᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴛꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴏᴀᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇ ꜰɪɴᴅꜱ ɪᴛ ᴅɪꜰꜰɪᴄᴜʟᴛ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʜᴏᴡ. ʜᴇ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀʀᴍ ʏᴏᴜ. ʜᴇ ᴋɴᴇᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜱᴀʏ ɴᴏ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ, ꜱᴏ ᴡʜᴀᴛᴇᴠᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ, ʏᴏᴜ'ᴅ ɢᴇᴛ. ᴀʟᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ɪᴛ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋꜱ ʜɪꜱ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ'ᴅ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ʀᴇꜰᴜꜱᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɪꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰʀᴇᴇᴅᴏᴍ. ʜᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡꜱ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴍᴇᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏɴᴇ ᴅᴀʏ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ꜱᴇᴇ ɪᴛ ᴛᴏᴏ.

𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐡:

ʙᴇʟᴄʜ'ꜱ ᴍᴀɪɴ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀɪꜱᴛɪᴄꜱ ᴀʀᴇ; ᴏᴠᴇʀᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ, ᴅᴇʟᴜꜱɪᴏɴᴀʟ

ᴀʟʟ ʙᴇʟᴄʜ ᴡᴀɴᴛꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ɪꜱ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ ʏᴏᴜ. ʜᴇ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛꜱ ʜɪꜱ ᴅᴀʀʟɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ꜱᴀꜰᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅ. ʙᴇʟᴄʜ ɪꜱ ᴏᴠᴇʀᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ꜱᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱᴀꜰᴇᴛʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴇʟʟ-ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏꜰ ʜɪꜱ ᴜᴛᴍᴏꜱᴛ ᴘʀɪᴏʀɪᴛɪᴇꜱ. ʜᴇ ɢᴇɴᴜɪɴᴇʟʏ ᴅᴏᴇꜱɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢᴇ ᴛʜᴀ�� ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴛᴇɴꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱᴀꜰᴇᴛʏ. ɪᴛ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʙᴇʟᴄʜ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴛ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴘᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ʜɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ʜᴜʀᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ᴇʟꜱᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʜɪꜱ ᴅᴀʀʟɪɴɢ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰᴀᴄᴛ ɪꜱ ᴇꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟʟʏ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ᴅᴜᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴍ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴅᴇʟᴜꜱɪᴏɴᴀʟ. ʙᴇʟᴄʜ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪᴍ. ɪᴛ ᴅᴏᴇꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛᴀʟᴋᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴍ ᴏʀ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʜɪꜱ ɴᴀᴍᴇ. ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ꜱᴜᴄʜ ᴀꜱ ᴇʏᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀᴄᴛ ᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀʟᴋɪɴɢ ʙʏ ʜɪᴍ ɪꜱ ʀᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ꜰᴏʀ ʜɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʜɪᴍ. ꜱᴏ ʜɪᴍ ꜱᴇᴇɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪᴛʜ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ᴇʟꜱᴇ ᴍᴀᴋᴇꜱ ʜɪᴍ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ᴀꜱ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴍɪᴛᴛᴇᴅ ᴀɴ ᴀᴄᴛ ᴏꜰ ɪɴꜰɪᴅᴇʟɪᴛʏ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʀʏ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴇxᴘʟᴀɪɴ ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴍ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴏ ɪᴅᴇᴀ ᴡʜᴏ ʜᴇ ɪꜱ, ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴄᴏɴꜰᴜꜱᴇᴅ. ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ʜɪꜱ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴇᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴏ ʜᴇ ɪꜱ. ᴀɴʏ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪᴍ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴅʀɪᴠᴇ ʜɪꜱ ᴅᴇʟᴜꜱɪᴏɴꜱ ꜰᴜʀᴛʜᴇʀ. ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɪꜰ ʙᴇʟᴄʜ ɪꜱɴ'ᴛ ɪɴʜᴇʀᴇɴᴛʟʏ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴛ ɪᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴅᴏ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴛᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀɪʟᴇ ʜɪᴍ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ. ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴄᴀɴ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴄᴀʀᴇ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʀᴏᴘᴇʀʟʏ ꜱᴏ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴀꜱ ʜᴇ ꜱᴀʏꜱ.

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