#okay like. i’m such a sucker for a little jealous!henry

[sunsetcurve]

Waves of Thunder * Family Danger Chapter 3

Sorry, at work right now but I know a big chunk of this chapter was Thunderbolt related, so I just inserted the whole thing. 😬

The Man Cave was in shambles ever since Charlotte left. At least that was exactly how Henry made it out every time he called her for an emergency. She went with it a while. Henry was pretty dependent in some aspects and she had only given him a couple of weeks to wrap his head around the changes. Eventually, though, she simply had to tell him very firmly that she couldn't continue to do this. 

She had a job search. She had weekly labs. She was going out for an internship. She just… couldn't coddle him. “Henry, Schwoz is standing right next to you. I can hear him breathing. The man taught me practically everything I know about the place. Turn to him for this help…”

“LAAAAAME!!!” Henry practically shouted. She just held the phone and blinked her eyes, with a sigh, staring ahead. He was about to say something when she started speaking to someone in her background.

“Hey. What're you doing here? I thought our thing was tomorrow?”

“I got here early for some meetings. Want me to go?” A guy said. 

Henry suddenly and oddly felt bothered by this call intrusion. “Who dat?” 

“No. I was just saying goodbye.”

“No you weren't,” Henry claimed.

But, she didn't hear him. Instead, she said into the phone, “Bye, Hen. Good luck on your mission.”

“Oh, that's Henry? Heyyy, Henry!” He said into the mouthpiece. 

She giggled the way that she had when she met Captain Man at Jasper's birthday party. Henry noted this because he didn't hear that type of behavior much from her. She wasn't very giggly. “Get outta my personal space, Max!” She said. Henry doubted she meant it from her giggling, and WHO was Max? “Max says 'Hi,’ but also 'Bye’ because you've got an emergency and we've got science things.”

“What kinda science things?” Henry asked, but Ray shouted,

“Like, right now, Kid!” He punched the enemy, but held onto his phone.

Before Charlotte hung up he heard her say to this Max, “From the sound of it, he's the fight. Probably wouldn't remember you anyway.” Her voice was fading as the phone headed for her bag. “He'll remember your sister.”

“He still crushing on her?”

“Who knows?” And she hung up. 

Henry was fighting as he put his phone away. He'd definitely look into this later! Who the jack was Max? And who was this sister of his that he had allegedly crushed on? And was she still hot? But more importantly, whether or not she was, who was that Max guy to Charlotte? 

Science things were usually not discussed between them. To be frank, they bored him and she didn't need to waste her breath, for both their sakes. But this sounded suspiciously like science things, but being enjoyed with a guy. A guy that made her giggle. A giggle with zero effort. It's not like he was jealous, but he probably should at least size this dude up. Charlotte never dated in school. Her parents didn't allow it. She could hang out with friends all day every day if she wanted, but no boyfriends and no dates. Only high school graduates could date in her house, an unfair stipulation, considering that she was an only child.

But, Henry was distracting himself. He and Ray bagged their bad guy and he headed home shortly after that.

…

He and Charlotte spoke a few more times, while playing on their live video games, and he called her a few times, but she apparently had gotten the internship she was shooting for. All she'd texted was, “Got my internship. Yay!” 

But, her social media post had, “So grateful for this opportunity. The youngest intern for this program in a decade. The only freshman this year. Big ups to my parents, teachers, mentors, and special thanks to Max for so many nights of helping me with my entry project. #TheScienceBroIBeenWaitnFo” Then she included hearts, hugs and kisses emojis. Why hadn't his text been so impassioned?

Henry stared at it for a while before going to the comments and reading an entire 46 comments thread of exchange between her and this guy. 

To sum it up, Dude was super excited for her, and said so, and included a bunch of emojis of his own, and they spoke science here and there, some simple, some went over Henry's head, but the thing that didn't was Max's use of parentheses when he repeated Science “Bros.” 

Now… it was very much so possible that in the short span of time that Henry guessed she knew this dude, he'd quickly caught on to her penchant for not being a “bro,” but since in this rare instance SHE used it, he figured that Max was hinting at something else and honestly, it was on his nerves. 

He checked out the guy's page. “Maxy-T. Corny,” he muttered. But, he looked familiar… Then, Henry saw photos of he and the sister. “Phoebe? This is Phoebe's brother, Max???” That dude was a villain, last time he knew of. Oh, but in his profile, it clearly stated that he'd left villainy behind to be the best hero he could be. Henry groaned, but couldn't force himself to leave the page. Mainly because there were a lot of photos of Char there. She wasn't tagged, so he hadn't seen them before, but they were like… uncomfortably cozy.

One was of her in a lab of some sort, in her pajamas and protective gear, side-by-side with one of her at a science gala, all dressed up and… surprisingly hot, Henry had to admit. The caption said: Get you a girl that can do both. And Charlotte had liked the post and commented with a smile and a wink. “Oh! Okay.” Henry said, nodding as he continued stalking the page. 

One was a video of Charlotte in this field of sunflowers, wearing sunflowers and doing one of those dance challenges. He… didn't know Char could dance like that! And then she levitated? Must have been with Max's help. The caption said: Hope floats. #DoYouLoveMe #SheGotMeInMyFeelings “EXCUSE ME???”

While he was yet stalking, dude went live. “Hey, we're here at Char's lab, working when we should be celebrating…”

She giggled from the background and said, “Oh, so you're gonna shade me like this? I steal your lab?” 

“Charlotte's lab, that Charlotte built with her own two hands and is at working, everyday…” 

Her face appeared to interject, “He totally let me borrow his lab everyday. I was only pushy the first time!” They both laughed and exchanged looks and whatever the look was, Henry hated it.

…

Whenever they talked, she didn't mention Max, and whenever Henry brought him up, she laughed it off and changed the subject. One of the times that they were talking, Henry was in the Man Cave and Ray came upon their conversation. “Is that Charlotte?” He asked and rushed over, jumping into Henry and Charlotte's video call. 

“Dude!”

“Hey, Ray!!!” Charlotte cheered and waved both hands. 

“Charlotte,” he folded his arms, “I've been told you're fraternizing with the kid that turned us over to a room full of villains.” 

“It's not that serious, Ray. We hang out. Besides, that's in his past. He's legit Z-Force, now. Actually, he loves pranks. I think that you'd get along with him, now.”

“Oh because he loves pranks?” Ray asked.

Henry chimed in, laughing, “Yeah, just because he loves pranks.”

Ray: I mean… I also love a good prank.

Henry: Yeah, a good prank is worth a lot to me.

Charlotte: He'll be here soon, if you wanna chat 

Henry suddenly remembered his frustrations, “No! I was checking on you, because you two seem like you're dating. This guy's older, has had way more dates, probably. Probably has a lot of groupies.”

“Superpower groupies,” Ray added.

“The absolute most desperate of groupies.”

“That isn't a lie,” Ray bragged.

Charlotte told them, “The most insulting thing about this conversation is that both of you think that there's something that you would think of that I wouldn't.”

Ray informed her, “We know how guys think.”

“Oh yea? What do you guys think he's thinking about?” 

They both stuttered and Ray finally answered, “Well, grown up sleepovers, for one.”

“Yeah!” Henry seconded, then shuddered, “Gross.”

“Oh, it's gross that someone would be interested in me?” Charlotte snapped. Henry tried to explain that wasn't what year meant, but she had ran with it, “For your information, I love grown up sleepovers and I'm told that I'm excellent at it!” 

“I'm out,” Ray said, leaving the conversation. Busting Charlotte's chops, maybe even giving that Max kid a hard time, he had been ready for, but one of his “kids” having grown up sleepovers? That was where he tapped out.

“Charlotte, that isn't what I was getting at, but wait, what? You've… slept over with that dude? Do your parents know?”

“Do yours know about your… things?”

“That's different. My parents are super not attached. Yours used to have you keep tabs of where you were and who you were with in Goofle Drive.” He laughed, remembering that.

“My parents know that I'm seeing Max and they support me, unlike my so-called best friend who hasn't had anything nice to say to me in months.”

“Char..  I have had plenty of nice things. I just kept them to myself.”

“That's helpful.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Match the wingperson energy that I gave you for every single girl you were interested in during the course of this friendship.”

“I don't recall.”

“I encouraged you to ask Bianca out, and after you made me regret it by basically making a fool of yourself, I still motivated you to tell her how you felt before the world ended. And because of it, when the world kept existing, you'd gotten a kiss and a girlfriend!”

“Okay, that did happen, but…”

“Then you rejected my very helpful advice to NOT try to do a dual identity date with her and Chloe. And after you didn't listen, you spent most of the night isolating me from my other friends to try to advise you through a problem that I never would have been stupid enough to find myself in.”

“Char…”

“And you never even said thank you, or more importantly SORRY!”

“I see your point.”

“Henry, you once told me that you would never date me because I was like a sister to you.”

“You said that you wouldn't date me because I was a dishonest idiot and it already complicated your life enough just being my friend!”

“And… that was true then and is true now. But, you're acting… not like my brother. You don't pull this with Piper.”

“I don't feel the same way about Piper as I do about you,” he blurted out. 

“Precisely. And like the idiot that I said you were, you waited until I found someone else to acknowledge this. I'm not Chloe, Henry. I'm not giving you a shot because you decided that you don't want to see me with someone else. Especially when I was there to witness herbe neglected until she left for Kids in the Woods.”

“I don't want to date you.’

“Good. Then there's no reason that you can't be supportive.”

“Yeah. Well, I gotta go. Swellview emergency.”

“Cool. Be careful out there.”

“Will do.”

…

Flashback:

Charlotte told Henry, “We should come up with a backup story. We'll need cover if Jasper is ever going to buy that we're dating. My cover is that we're keeping it a secret because my parents won't allow me to date. Easiest fiction is something steeped in the truth.”

“Oh, yeah, your parents don't let you date. Now, you ewwwing at me makes sense.”

“We made the sound at the same time, and that's not the reason that I did.”

“Friends should never date. First off, you might ruin the friendship and on top of that, I mean, I see you like a sister. You understand.”

“I don't understand any of that. If I were going to date, I'd definitely want the person to be my friend first. I want us to have common ground. I want us to have things that we can share together as friends even though we're dating. And, I have literally never thought of anyone as a sibling. Maybe it's because I am an only child, or maybe it's just because we have such different ways, you couldn't have possibly ever grew up as my sibling. My parents would have disowned you by now.”

“Harsh, but realistic… WAIT! Then why'd you say EWWW?”

“I said ewww, because you're a dishonest idiot and it already complicates my life enough just being your friend.”

“Charlotte, that's the rudest thing you've ever said to me… but it's maybe true, possibly.”

“I don't need you to tell me that I'm making sense. What about your cover? Jasper will have so many questions and most of them, I'm sure he'll ask you.”

Henry waved her off, “Between the two of us, no matter what we say, he'll believe us.”

…

Having a hectic schedule, but still no paycheck was a bummer. Charlotte really needed one of these searches to come through. As she played videogames with Henry and Jasper, she complained about it on the headset. 

“Why don't you see if Ray has something you could do from there?” Henry wondered.

“He's been a lit.tle. fussy with me since my notice. Henry, do you really think Ray might consider that?”

“Don't see why not. He often asks me 'Are you and Charlotte talking again? I have wanna ask her something!”

“When were we not talking?”

“He only means that he knows I'm no longer a priority.”

She paused for just a moment and her character was almost killed! She took a moment, put her head back in the game, and practically whispered, “You’ll always be a priority, Hen.” He smiled to himself, and even though she couldn’t see him, she countered, “Don’t be smiling.”

A/N: I usually do these at the front, but I wanted to just tag this bit of info in here… I do not know WHO I got the idea of Charlotte + Max Thunderman, and I’ve seen very little of the Thundermans, so Idek none about them. If I’m OOC with him or whatever, charge it to my head and not my heart. 

#NESHA THIS IS SO GOOD #okay like. i’m such a sucker for a little jealous!henry #and it definitely doesnt seem like you don’t know max #i really LOVE the sciencebros thing its so cute!!!!! #ugh. i’m really just being dragged into thunderbolt huh. #it’s CUTE #ahh #thunderbolt #chenry #henry danger #the thundermans #charlotte page bolton #max thunderman #henry hart #submission

[hotchley]

“how am i a whore?”

morehotchcontent day three: tooth rotting fluff (a cooking lesson/ “i love you more.” “impossible.”

tagged: @ablogofthecriminalmindsvariety @whoreforthebauteam (the hotpocket references come from their fic, found family)

as always, they didn’t all cook. after the first time, they’d arrived at the conclusion that spencer, emily and [enelope should not be trusted with any sort of cooking utensil, and so the three of them stood to the side, watching and assisting.

jj’s would go home to will and henry, who were both always eager to try out her new dishes.

derek’s would be the only one actually consumed on the day, because he was one of the only competent cooks. well, dave called him competent. which meant he was actually a wonderful example of how to boil spaghetti properly- because yes, spencer had set the smoke alarm off by burning boiling water. how, dave had no idea. aaron was helping dave this time, and theirs would go in the fridge for jessica and jack.

a cooking lesson at rossi’s is also the subtle reveal of a relationship

i can’t write fluff okay? please don’t be too judgemental. 

read of ao3!

When David Rossi woke up on a sunny Friday morning, Hotch wasn’t in bed. He sighed, assuming that meant his partner had already left for work, but hadn’t wanted to disrupt him. One of these days, he was going to forcefully prevent Aaron from leaving before eight.

But when he exited the bathroom to get dressed, Aaron was perched on the edge, a tray next to him.

“Hi Dave,” he greeted shyly.

Dave smiled. He was the only one that ever got to see Aaron like this: messy hair, Harvard sweatshirt and jogging bottoms, feet bare and wide grin on his face.

“Good morning my darling,” Dave replied. After he discovered that his partner was an absolute sucker for cute nicknames, he started finding any and all excuse to use them.

Aaron blushed, the same way he always did when he was the centre of Dave’s attention. It never failed to make Dave’s heart melt. As he went over to kiss his partner, he took stock of what was on the tray. Two mugs of coffee. A plate of pancakes for each of them. Aaron’s were covered in syrup and marshmallows, his own just a thin dusting of icing sugar and some berries.

“Well, whatever did I do to deserve this treatment?” Dave asked.

Aaron started fiddling with the bedcovers, not quite meeting his partner’s eyes.

Dave pressed two fingers to his chin and tilted his face upwards. He smirked at the slight exhale Aaron released. “Tell me.”

“Well, you know how the team are coming over tonight? For the cooking lesson?”

Dave nodded. Cooking lessons had become a monthly tradition within the BAU. He liked to pretend it was a massive inconvenience to him and his life, but actually it was one of the things he looked forward to the most. Not only was it a chance for him to get his family together and help keep them alive by feeding them actual food (because Aaron, hotpockets aren’t real food), and show off his own culinary skills, it was also an opportunity to watch aforementioned profiler in his kitchen. And whilst Aaron was careful to never betray too much knowledge of his kitchen, it was still nice to watch him move around with ease.

It was domestic.

“Yes, I am aware of that. Why? Did something happen?” Dave asked, careful to keep his voice gentle.

“No. It’s just- I want to tell them. Or at least make it obvious,” Aaron blurted out.

Dave stared at him. “Are you sure? I know I like to show off the beautiful things in my life, but if you aren’t ready, then we don’t need to rush.”

Aaron shook his head. “Wait, no, I am ready. And maybe… maybe I want you to show me off? Just a little bit? Not too much. Just enough to make Strauss a little bit jealous. Like a really small amount.”

Dave’s jaw dropped. “You little minx. Who knew the stoic and uptight Aaron Hotchner wanted to turn up to work all marked up because he knew of the short fling between his boss and his partner? Imagine the field day Garcia would have with that information.”

In response, Aaron pushed Dave away slightly, careful to not spill any off the coffee. “Shut up. I hate you.”

“You love me,” Dave sang as he slid off the bed to go and get dressed for the day.

“Why is completely beyond me, but yes, yes I do,” Hotch said with a sigh, as he himself also started to tame his unruly hair and change out of his pyjamas into the suit that Rossi handed him with a smirk, because he knew how good Aaron would look in it.

And maybe it had something to do with the fact that when they both went to pick up Jack and the other parents would stare at him, Dave would be able to link their pinkies and Aaron would give him that small, subtle smile reserved only for him.

“I’m so excited for tonight! What are we making?” Garcia asked, as soon as Rossi had taken his seat beside her in their morning briefing.

“That’s for me to know and for you to discover later,” Rossi teased.

“No, that isn’t fair! The others can just profile the answer out of you. I’m not like that. Please tell me,” she pleaded.

Rossi shook his head, smiling when she pouted.

Hotch entered a moment later, and Rossi was careful to school his features into a look of neutrality. It would definitely raise suspicions to be smiling when Hotch was talking about Strauss coming to observe the way they worked when based in Quantico.

7pm was fast approaching, and Rossi was beginning to wonder what exactly Hotch was doing. He wasn’t worried that he’d passed out or anything like that, but it wasn’t like him to take so long getting ready. If an event was casual, the most he’d do would be to change into a polo shirt and jeans. Which took a maximum of ten minutes if Dave wasn’t in the room.

Hotch had been getting ready for a good forty minutes now. In that time, Rossi had wiped down the kitchen, repositioned the photo of him, Aaron and Jack at the zoo (it had been kindly taken by Jessica) so that it wasn’t hidden, and set up the dinner table.

When Aaron came down, Rossi didn’t immediately turn.

“I was beginning to worry about you. If you don’t want to go through with this, you don’t have to,” he said, careful to keep his tone light but his words serious.

“Could you turn around before you make assumptions?” Aaron said.

Dave turned.

Aaron was wearing his shirt. There was no way it could be mistaken for his own, because Aaron would never wear purple, despite Dave constantly saying it enhanced his beauty- because every colour looked stunning on him. And it was a little bigger on him than it was on Dave.

“I’m now very tempted to call this cooking lesson off,” he commented.

Aaron blushed, but smiled nonetheless. “Please don’t do that. I was actually looking forward to you making pesto pasta.”

Dave wrapped his arms around Hotch’s waist, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder. “You look stunning, my darling rose. Absolutely stunning.”

Hotch snorted. “Darling rose? Really?”

“I can and will start calling you Hotpocket if you insult another one of my nicknames,” Dave threatened.

“I love your nicknames for me. And you. I love you,” Aaron said.

“I love you as well darling. Now, any moment now Penelope is going to arrive, so prepare yourself.”

He was right. A few moments later, the doorbell rang to reveal their technical analyst with a cheesecake. As Dave answered the door, she didn’t see Hotch till she entered the kitchen, where he was sat, casually looking over the recipe nobody else was allowed to see.

“Well hello sir! That shirt looks much better on you than it ever did on Rossi- no offence,” she said.

Hotch visibly relaxed, the tension in his shoulders bleeding off of him. “Thank you Pen,” he said. “I like your butterfly clip.”

She grinned. He gave her a small smile.

The others noticed Hotch’s attire, the ease with which he moved round Dave’s kitchen. The photo on his coffee table also indicated a family, as did the drawings pinned to the fridge with magnets. But nobody commented. They knew Hotch. They knew the only reason he did this was because he wanted them to know, not because he wanted a congratulations.

As always, they didn’t all cook. After the first time, they’d arrived at the conclusion that Spencer, Emily and Penelope should not be trusted with any sort of cooking utensil, and so the three of them stood to the side, watching and assisting.

JJ’s would go home to Will and Henry, who were both always eager to try out her new dishes.

Derek’s would be the only one actually consumed on the day, because he was one of the only competent cooks. Well, Dave called him competent. Which meant he was actually a wonderful example of how to boil spaghetti properly- because yes, Spencer had set the smoke alarm off by burning boiling water. How, Dave had no idea. Aaron was helping Dave this time, and theirs would go in the fridge for Jessica and Jack.

When the day was over, and everyone was leaving, Hotch seemed hesitant to let them go.

Garcia realised first, and hugged him tightly, She whispered something that Rossi didn’t hear, but he could only assume what had happened, based on her smirk and the slight rosiness of Hotch’s cheeks. JJ kissed him on the cheek, said that he couldn’t blame this one on gas, before grabbing her coat and leaving. Morgan patted him on the shoulder, a silent conversation between the two leaders. Dave almost felt like he was intruding on a private moment. Emily just winked at the two of them before leaving. Spencer rocked back and forth on his heels for a few moments before also hugging his unit chief.

“I’m just- you’re the first parent that taught me what it means to actually love someone, and I’m glad that you’re happy and in love because you deserve it,” he said. Hotch found himself cradling Reid’s head, the same way he often did to Jack. “Thanks Spence,” he said, voice a little rough.

Reid pulled away, hastily waving goodbye to Dave before he left.

Aaron let out a sigh of relief.

“Are you glad they know?” Dave asked, hugging him from behind.

Aaron nodded. “They’re our family. I feel like now, there are no more secrets. And I can relax.”

“Will you dance with me before you do that?” Dave blurted out. Truthfully, he’d been thinking of dancing with Aaron for a while now, just so he could hold him close and feel his heartbeat steadily against his own.

“I- of course. But I haven’t danced since- in a while. So,” he said.

“That’s okay. Let me lead you,” Dave said, moving Aaron’s arms so they were positioned correctly. There was no music, aside from the occasional sighs that left his mouth, and the slightly repressed gasp of pain that came from Aaron stepping on his toes.

“I love you,” Aaron whispered, when they finally stopped moving.

“I love you more,” Dave said, feeling very much like a teenager.

“Impossible,” Aaron said, mock-offended.

“Whatever you say, Hotpocket,” Dave teased.

Aaron grabbed the nearest cushion and threw it at him.

They ended up falling asleep on the floor, surrounded by all of the fancy cushions Dave had spent precious hours positioning just perfectly.

But it was worth it for the smile that greeted him the next morning, when Aaron realised exactly what they’d done last night.

#morehotchcontent2020 #day three: tooth rotting fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #hotch x rossi #aaron hotchner #hotch #aaron hotch hotchner #david rossi #rossi #spencer reid #reid #penelope garcia #garcia #derek morgan #morgan #jj #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #prentiss

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One:  The Dark Curse

Chapter 27:  Falling in Love with Love

The last thirty minutes of his life left him more confused than he'd been in a hundred years, and that included the day he'd garnered his ability of foresight. They hadn't had sex, not in the traditional sense, at least, but Cora had tried her hardest to help him to forget about the world and quiet his mind. She'd tried…

He'd failed.

Though their experience, he was certain, would be considered a success to her, she was unable to climb into his head and see the thoughts he'd had throughout it. Her temptations had worked at first, but the moment her hands moved from his hips to his knees, something changed. His mind began to race with new thoughts that had nothing to do with what Cora was doing. Instead, he was suddenly aware of just how close her hands were to his boots-the place the dagger had remained safely hidden for years. He'd never disclosed the location of the dagger to another soul before. But now she knew. And then, instead of focusing on Cora or her mouth or the attraction he felt toward her, the picture his head conjured up was one of her slipping her hand into his boot and pulling free his dagger. No matter how many times he tried, he couldn't get it out of his head. He hadn't been able to let his mind wander, hadn't been able to settle, only finish things quickly and return her to the palace wondering, questioning, if they'd gone too far too fast.

But hiding from Cora, ignoring her completely was never an option, not really. She knew his name now, his true name, and he had made her a promise on the night they'd fetched the fleece that he would teach her how to use her magic to come and go as she pleased. It wouldn't free her entirely, but it would give her some ability to take herself out of the walls of the palace and to a safe place when the need arose. And it did frequently after that night. A quick study from the beginning, she'd mastered the concept easily, and now he was pleased to find her there, standing behind him in his tower on occasion, whenever she had an hour free or an afternoon. She, it seemed, did not have the same concerns that he had about their experimental next steps. She asked for it quite often, surprisingly so, but not with her words, just with her body language. It was in the way she touched him, the way she whispered in his ear, and the way she sometimes put herself between him and the table upon which the fleece he'd been working on rested.

"I'm beginning to think your more interested in that rag than you are me…I might start to get jealous."

"That, my dear, is a grand impossibility," he whispered, pulling her closer. "Why don't we continue with your studies."

And that was all it took to draw him back to her. Though he'd spent time separating the pair of them and walking on eggshells the moment he felt her magic and stood by her side teaching her a trick of the trade, she was intoxicating again. So long as he could keep her at a safe and close distance until he decided what this affair was, and what it could become.

It would have worked in theory. The problem was the "close" part of the "close distance". He didn't want her to become nervous, or know that he was having second thoughts and so he did his best to continue as he had been. And soon enough, after a night of disappearing in one place and reappearing in another, it led them back to that inevitable place: her bedroom.

"Oh, that's such a rush!" she exclaimed, grabbing her head and smiling. "You've been holding out on me all this time! Is that what you feel? Every time you leave me, is that the rush you get?"

"In truth, I hardly notice it anymore," he answered obviously.

"Can't imagine why you wouldn't want to! It's exquisite. It makes my skin feel like it's humming," she explained, moving closer to him. "My truth, dear Rumple, is that I haven't felt like that since the night we got the fleece, since we went to your castle and-"

She froze.

He froze.

The room seemed to freeze, even the fire, as all that was left was the sound of the echoing knock that came from her door. Company.

"Cora? It's me, Henry…are you awake?"

"Just a moment!" she cried out. "I'm not decent!"

But suddenly, her frightened face exploded into a mischievous smile. She gave him a sudden shove that forced him against the wall and kissed his cheek. He always was a sucker for a strong woman. Now more than ever. His skin began to tingle in anticipation, a desperate desire and want to continue kissing her as her fiancé waited outside the door. But a moment later he realized that sensation had less to do with her and more to do with her magic. He felt it push into his own body, and as she moved away from him and glanced down at his hands he realized he was turning invisible. Her own spell...clever girl.

"Henry, dear…" Cora exclaimed, opening her door. She'd thrown a dressing gown over the clothes she'd been wearing out with him. Smart, but he now knew that the next thing he needed to teach her was how to transfigure her own clothes. "It's the middle of the night, is everything okay? Your father, your brothers-"

"All is well," Henry assured her with a smile. "I simply…I thought I heard a noise coming from your room, and I wanted to check you were all right."

There was a moment of silence as she looked at him, then her hand wrapped around the door and opened it wider, revealing, what he would have seen, an empty room except for Cora. He watched as Henry's eyes searched nonetheless until red embarrassment burned in his cheeks.

"It was me that you heard," she explained gently. "I was reading by the fire when a spark jumped out and caught my gown. I may have shrieked and stumbled a bit, putting it out."

He was shocked to find that when she opened her dressing gown a bit, she was wearing the simple gown she'd been wearing before they'd left for the night and sure enough when she picked it up, a small bit of it was burned. It hadn't been a moment ago. It seemed his favorite student had been doing extra homework and studying on her own. He hadn't expected that. He didn't know how he felt about it. And yet her attention to detail…it was stunning.

"Well…if you say you're all right…"

Cora smiled and moved to close the door-

"Only…it's only…I had rather expected you'd be in bed by now," Henry inserted with a wide, innocent smile before she could shut him out. Ordinarily, he would have believed the man was simply snooping, but that smile had him convinced the poor lamb probably was just concerned for her.

"Well, I suppose I should, but…I simply got too caught up in the book! I suppose I lost my head a bit! Oh…and a good thing I did! If you'd have come by and I was in my nightgown…before the wedding! It would have been shameful, Henry!"

Instantly his face fell, all the while Rumpelstiltskin fought to contain his laughter. She was playing on the perception that brides were as innocent as dear Henry, if he knew what had occurred between the pair of them not long ago, that vision in the poor lad's head would fade. In fact, it might actually kill him.

"Oh, dear! I hadn't thought-"

"It's okay, my love, it's okay!" she cooed, stepping forward and grabbing his hand. "We both got lucky tonight, and no harm was done! But…I suppose we'd best part ways before a servant comes along and assumes something that isn't true."

"Yes," Henry nodded with a sigh of relief. "Of course, you're right…"

He had to laugh, the poor prince leaned in for a moment as if contemplating whether or not he wanted to kiss her, but when Cora didn't move from her place, he thought better of it. Instead, he took another look around the room as if searching for someone one last time that chilled his bones. His innocent eyes were replaced with suspicion and something more. It was knowing. He may have come up here for the reasons he stated, he may even have believed her story about the dress, but that look hinted that he knew far more about what was going on than Cora might have known. And that could be bad for her health…bad for her neck.

"I bid you good-night, Cora," Henry stated, offering a little bow before taking one last glance and moving down the hall.

The very moment he was gone and Cora had closed the door, he felt the familiar tingling on his skin that told him the spell she'd cast was reversing. And sure enough, when he looked down at his hands, they appeared again. But Cora didn't look at him, didn't seem worried or interested in his reappearance, she stared instead into the lit fireplace, with her hands on her hips, her skin flushed as her chest heaved. She was angry.

"Spineless, rigid, oaf!" she cried out.

All true words, but not the ones she should be concerned with.

"I think the words you are searching for are perceptive, persistent bugger," he added in a low tone so as not to let anyone in the castle hear his voice. Cora finally turned back to him with curiosity for his choice of words when she knew that he didn't think that much of Henry himself. As far as Cora was concerned, those words were raving reviews of the man. "He was looking for something," he explained, stepping up to her so that he could grab her hand and kiss the back of it. "It is possible that we have not been as discreet as we thought we had, my dear."

"Henry?!" she blanched! "No. He's too...he's too naïve to think such thoughts. He's too…good."

"But his father's not."

"His father!" she roared, pulling her hand free from his own and sitting down upon the chair in a huff. "I'll tell you what I'd like to do with his father! I'd like to…" Her words stopped there, but he could tell her thoughts had not. There was something working in her mind, something very plainly "not good". And he knew Cora well enough to know that if he simply sat in the chair opposite her for long enough, eventually she'd divulge.

"I read something the other day, in one of those books you gave me…something I saw you do with that puppet you brought here…it was something about taking hearts from the body."

"Ah…tis a helpful magical tool for those who can manage it."

"Who can manage it?"

"Usually only the wicked," he responded honestly. "It's high-level magic that's not to be fooled with, only those of blackened hearts try. It takes a lot of power to do it or else a powerful spell to give a non-magical being the ability to do it."

Her eyes had gone dark again as she sat forward in her chair with interest. "And once you have that heart?" she questioned in a seductive tone that had him moving forward in his own seat, drawn to her easily.

"The world is yours…so to speak," he answered. "You are free to command the individual to do as you please. Squeeze hard enough, and pain is beyond endurance…or so I've been told." It had never happened to him. It never would. After he'd first learned the truth about hearts, he'd cast a spell over his own that prevented most souls from taking it from him. He could remove it, and he imagined that a very select few who were more powerful than the Dark One could take it as well, but anyone who reached into his chest with the intention of pulling it free without his consent would find themselves stumped and that was the way he wanted it.

"But, you see…" Cora muttered, reaching out to trace a glittering pattern on the back of his hand, "I'm more interested in what happens if you squeeze a little too hard, Darling."

He smiled. Of course, she was. And suddenly every questioning thought he'd had before coming here faded from his mind. He'd worried about her trying to take the dagger. But she hadn't, had she? She'd had the perfect opportunity when she was on her knees, and she hadn't made a single move for it. They were one and the same. It was evident in the way that she asked the exact same questions he would have asked.

"Death," he answered. "Obviously."

"Obviously…" she chanted as she turned her gaze back to the closed door, her dark mind plotting all the while.

"Now, now…I know that look, dearie!" he piqued, drawing her attention back to him. As much as the thought of teaching her how to draw out hearts and break them in her fist enticed him, there was more to it than the magic she'd obviously been practicing on her own. This was a form of magic that needed to be handled delicately, or she'd soon be caught and discovered, and then her plans for a royal wedding would be gone. "Should you get the urge to practice, you should know there are often poor results if you are not in the right frame of mind. A King would be a dreadful person to take the first shot with, especially for someone who is still mastering memory manipulation."

She sighed. He'd brought that up for the very reason that he knew she'd been working on that little trick but with little results. Minds were difficult things to toy with. Interestingly enough, once a heart was captured, memory could be very easily manipulated, but if she went around trying to take the King's heart and failed, without being able to alter those memories, the results could be a disaster.

"A servant then…" she pressed.

He shook his head. She was eager, but she still had much to learn, and she wasn't hearing him now. Before she could learn this, she needed another skill!

"Master the memories first, or practice on animals. You can't risk having the servant girl running off to tell the King what you're doing, especially if he's suspicious already."

"But once I have her heart, I can simply order her to forget or to not tell. Unless I misunderstand."

"You do not, but…that's only if you are successful the first time around, and people rarely are!" Restless demanding little thing. He had the feeling he'd be teaching her this skill before too long after this discussion. "And even if you are successful…holding a heart hostage can lead to nasty side effects that could make it obvious what has happened, and the King will know right where to look."

"Side effects?"

"Withdraw, unusual behavior, lack of emotions-"

"From me?!"

"For your victim, of course!" He rose then and offered his hand to her. "You'll want to approach this bit of magic cautiously."

After a pause, she put her hand back into his own and stood before him so they were nose to nose. Her hands moved up over his chest while his own felt the now familiar curves of her waist. He had the urge to lean forward and kiss her. Was this still bloodlust? Sometimes he wondered if what he felt was more.

"I'm sure you can help me," she whispered as she moved closer so that he could feel her breath upon his lips, and her nose gently rubbed over his own. He closed his eyes to enjoy the sensations. Her mouth was so close he could already feel the kiss before it stared.

"We can start tomorrow," he agreed. It wasn't much of a deal for him, but if this was the only way to get her to practice safely, it was agreeable. But as he moved forward to seal it with a kiss, he suddenly found her head moving farther away. When he finally opened his eyes, the look in her own was something like he'd never seen before. It was deep and penetrating. It was sad and happy all at once.

"I'd give you my heart if I could," she muttered

Warmth spread through him had a rapid rate. His heartbeat again and his breath held, and suddenly he wasn't sure why exactly he'd wanted to be distant from her. She'd had every opportunity to take the dagger and hadn't taken it. Now she was promising something like that…why had he ever been worried. He had the sudden revelation that this affair had gone much farther than just an affair of the mind. It was quickly becoming an affair of the heart.

"I might just be tempted to take it," he breathed. "I do believe I'm beginning to love you, Cora."

She smiled before moving close to her again. "I do believe I'm beginning to love you too, Rumpelstiltskin."

For the first time in his long life, he wanted time to stop. He wanted it to stand still for just a little while longer so he could cherish what had been said and how because he had never heard words like that from another woman. They put Milah's lies to shame. They made Granny's stubbornness and spirit seem unappealing. And all the women at taverns and pubs, those who were maids and those who had ever looked at him on the street with lust in their heart for the power that he possessed, they were suddenly child's play next to what he felt when Cora said those words. He almost wanted to resurrect Milah just to force her to listen to them, to see what he was really capable of. Just to make her watch this…

He loved the way they kissed. He loved the way they groped and stretched and reached for each other as though they were both afraid the other might disappear. He liked how her lips tasted when he'd kissed them too much and how one kiss could easily become two or three or even-

"Stay!" she demanded suddenly. "Stay here with me tonight! Just this once…"

The words of "of course" were there in his mouth, but when he opened his mouth, they did not come. He'd wanted this. Just the other night, in fact! But now that it was here, staring him in the face, offering this invitation. His heart didn't leap the way it had before. He was still very aware of the dagger in his boot, of how at risk it would be if he left it alone and turned his back at the wrong time.

This was, after all an affair of the heart, but whether it was of the heart or the body or the mind an affair was an affair. He was falling in love with her, that was true. But what was he to do about the love he felt for her? And if he loved her…could he share her with Henry? In any way? He was falling in love…but if the night before had been too far too soon, staying the night most certainly was as well.

So he unwound himself from her and instead gave her a sinister smile as he repeated nearly what she had the other night.

"What kind of monster do you think I am?"

And then he disappeared, for both their sakes, and spent the night wondering if at any moment she loved him enough to appear before him.

#Rumbelle #Rumple #rumpelstiltskin #Cora #Queen of Hearts #Golden Queen #ouat #ouat fanfic #fanfic

[javis-beretta]

Running Lines

someone requested theatre kid race x stage manager reader, so this is that combined with #61 from this prompt list, and also some projection of my nerdy desire for a cute boy to hit on me using lines from shakespeare. enjoy! <3

“Hey,” Race poked Henry in the shoulder, “who is that?”

He nodded his head towards you, sitting on the other end of the stage.

Henry shrugged.

“I think that’s Y/N, the new stage manager.”

Race nodded, filing the information away for later. You weren’t a part of the regular crowd that took part in college productions, in fact, Race wasn’t even sure that you took drama as an elective. You were the only person in the room that he didn’t already know. At first, that’s all you were to him: a new face in a familiar crowd.

—

The winter play had always been Race’s favourite. The drama department was active all year ‘round, but the winter production was always the biggest and the most exciting event. Most of the drama majors favoured the fall musical but, if Race was being honest, he always had been a fan of Shakespeare, and Hamlet was one of his favourite plays to date.

It didn’t hurt that he was the lead, of course. The role would stress most other actors out: it was well-known, full of complicated soliloquys and longer than it needed to be, but he was a sucker for a challenge.

And, the endless soliloquys did come with one upside: Race got to run lines with you. The director had suggested it at one of the first few rehearsals, so that Race wasn’t sitting idly while they blocked the difficult ensemble scenes. Now, he spent the hours before rehearsal looking forward to spending time alone with you.

It was strictly professional, he reminded himself. You made it easy to remember, always all business and no nonsense. He liked that about you. He liked that you weren’t as easy to impress as everyone else. It made him feel like he’d accomplished something when you laughed at one of his jokes or sought him out at the beginning of rehearsals. When you were around, he was his most charismatic self, and it would have been exhausting if your smile wasn’t so damn rewarding.

­—

“I’ll never get it,” Race whined, draping himself across the seat next to you at the back of the theatre. You reached over and patted his knee.

“I know you’re a drama major, but you don’t have to be so melodramatic. You’re a great actor, Higgins, and probably the only one at college here who could play Hamlet well.”

He opened one eye to look up at you.

“You really think so?”

“Yeah, I don’t think anyone else can pull off being extra as well as you.”

He groaned again in response.

“This monologue is just… the worst.”

You rolled your eyes and jumped to your feet.

“We’re gonna keep running it until you get it, Race, and I know that this time you’ll kill it.” You reached your hands out to him. “C’mon, get up.”

He pulled himself up quickly and held onto your hands for a moment too long, before clearing his throat and bounding to the stage, on his endless legs. He stood at the edge of the stage and shook his head a little, as though he was clearing it, like an etch-a-sketch, to step into character. He took a few deep breaths, slipped into a sad frown and began to speak.

You spent the first couple of lines concentrating on his projection and intonation, making sure that he moved across the stage when he had to and that he moved slowly, purposelessly wandering. You made mental notes about when he should drop his voice, or where he should raise, and, then at “Soft you now, the fair Ophelia”, his blue eyes met yours, and your mind went blank.

You got caught in his gaze, and every note that you had made was gone. You let yourself focus on the last few words and the palpable pain in his voice. You wondered idly how someone could do that, just slip into another persona. Race was hard on himself, but you found it easy to get lost in his characters. You’d seen him before, playing a heroic Mark Anthony, and a suave Danny Zuko, but you were certain that this was the best he’d been.

You were so lost in those last few words, that you almost didn’t noticed when he finished, head bowed. You stood up and clapped, miming a standing ovation.

“Yeah,” he said, eyes wide and nervous. “Was that alright?”

“Was it alright?” you looked at him incredulously. This had been his best run through yet. “That was amazing, Higgins. Kenneth Branagh, who?”

He beamed at you, and stepped off the stage, pulling his phone out and checking the time. It was well past six, when the rehearsal was supposed to have ended.

“You know,” he said, concerned, “you didn’t have to stay this late to go through this stupid monologue with me.”

You moved towards him and nudged him your shoulder.

“Nah, it’s Wednesday evening, not like I had anything on. Besides, it’s my job to help the actors out.”

“No, it’s your job to help with cues and props. You didn’t have to do this.”

You shrugged.

“Well, I wanted to.”

That evening, as he lay in his uncomfortable dorm room bed, he thought of your words. He shook his head lightly and let himself smile at the ceiling.

You wanted to.

—

“Hey, Y/N, what do I have to do to get you to call me your sweet prince?” Race winked.

“Die,” you deadpanned.

—

Race put his books down on the table, and sat down across from you, giving you a light wave. You pulled out an earphone and greeted him.

“Hey,” he replied, easily. “I missed you at rehearsal yesterday.”

Your heart beat a little harder.

“Yeah, sorry,” you said, “I talked to Bunsen, but I forgot to text you. I had a physics prac.”

“Don’t apologise to me,” he waved a hand dismissively. “How’d the prac go?”

If it was anyone else, you would have assumed that they were asking out of politeness, but Race didn’t even attempt to mask the earnestness in his voice.

“It went well, but I think I would have preferred to see you and Albert work on that fight scene,” you grinned at him.

“Oh, boy,” he answered, “that was a mission.”

You let yourself focus on the way his eyes twinkled while he told the story, throwing in an occasional noise of agreement or chuckle. You hadn’t really wanted to see him and Albert poking one another’s eyes out with prop swords, but you didn’t get to see Race much outside of rehearsals, and Wednesday afternoons were quickly becoming the highlight of your week.

—

“Hey, Y/N, you ever seen a beast with two backs?”

You rolled your eyes and didn’t answer.

“You wanna help me make one?” Race grinned.

“I’d rather be pursued by a bear.”

—

“Do you ever get jealous of our dope costumes?” Finch asked you, as you took his measurements for a tunic.

“Definitely not. I get to dress like a member of My Chemical Romance every night, and I get a headset.”

Race was watching you from the corner of the room, trying not to feel jealous of his friend’s proximity to you. Finch caught his eye and grinned, waggling his eyebrows. You were on his side now, wrapping the tape measure around his waist. Race’s eyes were still on you, and he grimaced a little at Finch’s smug face.

Most of the cast knew he had a thing for you. Hell, at this point he figured NASA was laughing at him from space. You were still painfully oblivious, and when you pushed Finch away and waved Race over, he immediately straightened up. He bounced over to you and tried his best to keep his heart in check as you stood near enough for him to get a breath of your perfume. His hand tapped tunelessly on his thigh, and, without thinking, you reached out to still it. Your hands touched for just a moment, but Race could barely hear over the blood roaring in his ears, so he looked around desperately. Romeo looked at him from across the room and smirked.

—

“Y/N!” you heard a voice call from somewhere behind you. You turned and spotted Romeo, waving as he made his way to you. You weren’t exactly best friends, but you chatted sometimes during rehearsals and you liked him.

You gave him a pleasant smile as he fell into step next to you.

“So,” he said, “are you coming to rehearsal tomorrow?”

“Yep,” you answered, “but I’ve gotta catch my history prof during her office hours, so I’ll probably be a little late.”

Romeo’s eyes twinkled with something that you couldn’t pin down.

“Aw, Race’ll miss you!”

Oh, that was it. He was making fun of you. You gave a purposefully casual shrug.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Rome.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Oh, come on, you’re seriously going to tell me that there isn’t something going on between you two?”

“He isn’t, I mean, we’re not like that, at all. We’re colleagues, friends. Not anything else.”

He gave you a mischievous grin.

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”

—

Opening night came by quicker than any of you had expected. Between classes and midterms, the time had slipped away from you, and, soon, you were standing backstage, checking through registers an hour before you had to call places for the first scene. You jumped a little when someone tapped you on the shoulder.

You turned to see Race, looking every bit like Danish royalty and giving you a princely smile. Your face broke out into a grin.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi,” you replied. “You look good.”

You weren’t kidding. You had seen him in costume before, of course, but tonight he was glowing with anticipation, handsome even before he’d put on his stage makeup.

“Thanks,” he replied, smirking, “I was channelling my inner you.”

“Shut up,” you swatted at him with your clipboard.

“Hey, is not the truth, the truth?” he retorted.

“Don’t quote Henry IV at me for brownie points,” you poked him in the chest, “I can tell that you need something.”

“What, I can’t talk Shakespeare to my favourite stage manager, now?”

“I’m your only stage manager, Race.”

“Okay, fine. I usually do my makeup myself, but, uh, my hands are a little shaky tonight. Could you help me out?”

He looked adorably nervous, as if you’d actually be able to say no to him.

“Of course, Higgins.”

You borrowed some BB cream and an eyeliner pencil from one of the other boys and made your way to a unisex bathroom. Race leant against the counter, and you stood in front of him, trying your best to ignore the proximity of your faces. You heard his breath hitch a little when you dabbed some of the cream onto his cheek, and you hoped that it was because of your skin touching his. You ignored his eyes running over your face as you blended it in. For once, he was completely still.

He began to wriggle a little when you moved on to eyeliner, flinching away from you, until you had to cradle his face to keep him from moving away. When you were finished, you admired your work. You were no Jeffree Star, but it’d do.

“Uh, to be honest, I lied earlier,” Race said, quietly. “My hands weren’t shaking, I just wanted to get you alone.”

You swallowed drily.

“Well, you’ve got me, Higgins, what are you going to do now?”

“I just wanted to say thanks, I guess. You’ve helped me so much, through this whole process. I know I’m the one who’s gonna be up there on stage, but, you’re the real star of the show.”

You smiled, gently.

“It’s my job, Race, and I’m more than happy to do it. But, did you really have to lie to me just to say thanks?”

He gulped.

“That’s, uh, not all.”

You looked at him questioningly, but, before you could say anything, his hands were on your hips, pulling you nearer to him.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” you echoed.

“Y/N, am I imagining the, uh, something between us? Just, tell me now if I’ve read anything wrong. But, even if I am kidding myself, I just feel like I should say this. I’m playing the main part in one of the most important plays ever, in less than an hour and the thing that I’m most nervous about is still what you’ll think of me after.”

You sighed, deeply.

“You aren’t imagining anything, Race. I feel, uh, something too.”

He beamed at you, and leaned down, pulling you impossibly nearer, when the door swung open. JoJo’s eyes grew to the size of dinner plates, and he hurriedly apologised, before he was gone as quickly as he had come. When you turned back to Race, the moment had been broken. You moved away from him and didn’t notice the way he deflated at the distance.

“C’mon, your Majesty,” you said, reaching for his hand. “I have to go make sure that everyone is where they’re supposed to be.”

—

The last show came as quickly as the first had, surprising all of you. The cast had entered into a rhythm, now, and you barely had to call places anymore. Still, it gave you an excuse to stop by Race’s dressing room while you waited for the first scene to end. You knocked, lightly, and pushed the door open to him sitting in front of the mirror, examining a beautiful bouquet of roses.

“Wow,” you said, “someone’s got admirers.”

He turned to you with a familiar smirk.

“Aw, Y/N, there’s no need to be jealous. They’re just from Jack.”

You began to argue, but decided against it, moving over to where he was sitting, instead, and picking up a single rose, and holding it up to the light.

“That which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet.”

He looked surprised.

“What? You’re not the only one who can quote Shakespeare, you know.”

“Oh, I know. I’m just surprised that you’re quoting Juliet, is all. You’re an Ophelia if I ever met one.”

You clutched a hand to your chest.

“So, I’m weak-willed and manic?”

“No, not even a little. But, you are my major love interest.”

He winked, but there was something certain in his eyes.

“You’re breaking Sarah’s heart.”

He stood up and moved to hold your hand.

“Y/N. You know all that stuff I joke about? Like, us being together and stuff?”

You nodded, once.

“Well, I haven’t been joking. This show is almost over, and I don’t see you much outside of it, so I figured that I should tell you that. That I’m not joking.”

He palm was sweaty against yours, and, barely even thinking, you put a hand on his shoulder and kissed him. You and Race were not star-crossed lovers, but you felt that it was better that way. Most Shakespeare plays were tragedies, and, this time, you wanted a happy ending.

­—

The next winter, you were sitting across from him at the breakfast table, running lines again. Halfway through a phrase, Race cut himself off, smiling at something in his head.

“What’s so funny about Macbeth?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he answered, turning his smile on you. “I was just thinking.”

“About?”

“I can’t get over how a year ago, I wanted to learn your name and now you’re having breakfast with me in my sweater in our apartment.”

You beamed at him, getting up to peck him on the lips. He stood and deepened the kiss, smiling into it.

“I do love nothing in the world so well as you,” he murmured against your lips. “Is not that strange?”

TAGLIST: @pinecovewoods @racescoronas @broadwayandbookblog @ilovejoshburrage @crazymecjc @bencookisagod 

like this post to be added to my taglist!

#newsies x reader #race higgins x reader #race higgins #newsies: the musical #newsies fanfiction

[creativitymouth]

The World Forgetting By The World Forgotten Pt.4

A/N - Okay so I wasn’t expecting my story to blow up as much as it has and I am incredibly thankful. For everyone who doesn’t feel confident in their writing just give a try it will most likely be well received by a very kind community. 

Summary: The end of 11th grade was just the beginning of everything. SlowBurn!RichieTozierxFem!Reader. Aged Up. 

Trigger Warning: Depressive Themes, Swearing, Trashmouth Tozier, Mentions of Neglect and Abuse. 

Chapter 4

11th grade - 1989

You were lost in your thoughts, happy it was the last day of 11th grade but also reeling. The upcoming year would be more stress-filled than any of the previous, everyone was going to go off to college and learn more about themselves then they could in the small town of Derry. You were happy for the growth, but you were also wondering where that left you. The losers had been in your life for 9 years now and you weren’t ready to let it all go. Time was moving so quickly, in fact you had just noticed that morning that it had almost been a year since little Georgie Denbrough had gone missing. It still felt like only months had past when you’d gotten the news. Richie had been the one to tell you and held you as you cried over the disappearance. Of course, you didn’t feel the loss as much as Bill did, but you still hurt a lot. He was only 9 years old, didn’t know much about life and still adored his toy trains. Georgie was a light in the darkness that was Derry and the audacity someone had by taking that from everyone was just cruelty. You had helped his parents around the house after the loss, not wanting them to yell and scream at Bill for undone chores, and they appreciated that greatly. Hell, they treated you better then they treated Bill. Bill had been so stoic for a long time, and you couldn’t blame him. Georgie’s innocence was a beacon and you missed it terribly. You don’t remember the last time Bill’s mother had spoken directly to him, she was only able to see Georgie when she looked at her eldest son. Bill was beginning to do better now, but you could still see the hurt on his face. The determination to find his lost brother and though you didn’t have as much hope as he did you were still going to try. For Ben’s sake, and for Georgie’s memory.

“Hey (Y/N)! Wait up!” Your best friends voice called out to you bringing you out of your thoughts. You stopped walking, adjusting the textbooks you had in your hand before turning and giving her approaching figure a smile. Since 9th grade, the growing darkness you felt inside you only seemed to worsen but that didn’t stop you from putting on a show. The curtains only closing when you got home at night.

“Beverly Weverly,” she put an arm around your shoulders “what an honor.” She smiled back at you, steering you in a new direction.

“We made a new friend.” She stated proudly as your eyebrows stitched together.

“We?”

“Yes, we.” You groaned, Bev had a peculiar taste in friends. The party all night, get blackout drunk kind.

“You won’t even hang out with the losers despite how often I beg.” She rolled her eyes at you dramatically.

“I hang out with Richie.”

“That’s because you’re both addicted to cancer sticks.” You chuckled at yourself as you watched Beverly approaching the new kid.

“You’re just jealous.” Beverly joked, poking you in the rib with her finger. You squirmed uncomfortable with her accusation.

“Jealous.” The word tasted metallic and foreign in your mouth.

“Yeah, because of how in love you are with Richie.” Your head spun. In love? What did she mean? What was she talking about? You loved all the losers, granted you did find yourself alone with Richie a lot. But you were alone with Mike all the time too, and Bev. In love? Before you could question or scold her (or maybe both) the new kid had approached.

“Hey new kid on the block.” Beverly jokes. “This is who I was telling you about.”

“Hi.” He waved nervously, you smiled that signature smile and he eased up a bit.

“I’m (Y/N).” You stuck a hand out to him and he shook it.

“My best friend.” Beverly interrupted, and your smile only grew, it felt nice to be appreciated. “Feel free to call her (N/N)”

“Do not feel free to do that.” You glared at Beverly beside you who chuckled. Somewhere along the line, when Richie and Beverly became friends they’d made up this infuriating nickname for you.

“I’m Ben.” He smiled after glancing at Beverly, his cheeks reddening in the process.

This kid has a thing for her. You thought to yourself. “So, how long have you two known each other?” You wiggled your eyebrows at Ben and he looked away.

“10 exciting minutes,” Beverly smirked “but then I knew I had to introduce you two when I heard him listening to New Kids on the Block.”

“You like them?” Benjamin’s eyes practically sparkled. You shrugged, shoving a hair behind your ear.

“Don’t be coy (N/N),” she nudged you again, “She never shuts up about Joe McIntyre.”

“Bev!” You shouted dramatically. “Embarrassing much?” Bev copied your earlier actions and shrugged before gently taking the yearbook from Ben. You were supposed to be the smiling bright, ray of sunshine, liking New Kids on the Block did not come with the job application.

“Sign this, poor new kid has no signatures and Henry Bowers has been after him.” Ben looked away sheepishly, clearly embarrassed.

“Beverly Marsh.” You scolded before taking the book and signing next to her Stay Cool, Ben from Soc Class. She was being characteristically blunt towards all things obvious.

Have a great summer Benny, I hope you survive Bowers and if things get too rough you can always talk to me. I assure you Beverly will be there too. - (Y/N)

P.S - Didn't she blow your mind this time.

You handed the book back to him, and Beverly smiled.

“Hang tough, new kid on the block.” Bev waved before walking off.

“Please don’t go girl!” He yelled behind her, as you watched with an amused expression on your face. “That’s the name of another,” his voice trailed off “New Kids on the Block song.” You leaned in towards Ben smirking.

“She’s a sucker for poetry.” You said before jogging after Bev. Ben’s expression fell as he considered your words, had he been obvious? He had liked Beverly from the moment he laid eyes on her in Social Studies class, but she had never noticed him prior. So why were you telling him that she liked poetry. As Ben stood there considering your words his crestfallen expression changed again. Sure, you knew he liked Beverly, but you also approved. Maybe the summer wouldn’t be so terrible after all.

“I’m going to go hang with the boys, are you coming over tonight?” She shook her head no, a small frown forming on her face.

“Dad -” She began with a grimace.

“Don’t explain, I got it.” You pulled her in for a hug, purposefully squeezing the life out of her. The parents in this down were deadly, and corrupt. You wondered if they were always like this or if Derry had made them that way. When you arrived at Derry all you had was 8 years’ worth of memories from New York, so you didn’t know if they way you turned out was contributed to Derry or if you would have always been the way you were.

“I need air (N/N), you know, to live.” She wheezed out though she was hugging back. When you guys pulled away, Beverly ruffled your hair before leaving with a wave. You shook your head, once again lost in your head. You too had been alive at some point, but you didn’t know whether to attribute that to Derry.

“(N/N)!” Richie’s voice yelled out. You looked up as he jogged toward you with his giraffe legs. You hated how all the boys were now looming over you, though it had just been 4 years ago when you were all at eye level. Richie now stood at a good 6 feet to your (Height). Eddie, though still shorter than the rest of the boys, was taller than you as well. The tallest of them all being Stan at a whopping 6’2”.

“Trashmouth.” You started until he swept you into a hug, your feet coming off the ground. You squealed, hating the feeling of floating.

“I fucking missed your tiny ass,” he squeezed your body to him, but he was worried you might catch on to his sentiment, so he continued, “though I got to say your actual ass isn’t all that small.”

“You saw me during lunch.” You said, deciding to ignore his crude comment as he lowered you back down.

“And?” He smiled at you and you couldn’t help but smile back. Richie’s heart wanted to melt, he loved making you smile and laugh, especially when you would throw your head back and laugh into the stars. His feelings for you seemed to grow by day which did nothing for his inappropriate behavior. If anything, it made it worse. “I missed having eye candy around.” You scoffed.

“Way to ruin the moment Richard.” You stated, feigning annoyance that you didn’t feel as the rest of the losers found their way to you two. “What’s up boys, what misadventure are we getting into tomorrow?” Bill put his arm around your shoulder, loving the feeling of having his own armrest. You both missed the way Richie glared at the gesture, but Eddie didn’t, and he nudged Richie in the side as he shook his head. Richie gave Eddie a pointed look before taking a deep breath and contributing to the conversation.

“I start my training.”

“What training?” Stan asked.

“Street fighter.” You laughed at Richie rolling your eyes as he smiled at you. The boy basically funded the arcade with the amount of time he spent there.

“Is that how you want to spend your summer, stuck in an arcade.” Eddie interjected, obviously appalled by the thought.

“Better than inside your mother.”

“Rich.” You scolded, though you were trying to hide your laughter. You looked up at Bill who was smiling softly as well, his arm still around your shoulders. Bev had asked you once if you and Bill had a thing for each other and it had been a hassle to explain that he was just appreciative of what you had done for him over the summer Georgie had gone missing.  “What if we go the quarry?” The boys all became silent looking around absently. Even Bill moved his arm away (to Richie's much apparent joy). “Chickens.”

“Guys, we can g-go to the barrens.” Bill suggested instead, and your eyebrows rose. The barrens? That’s around where he told you he thought Georgie might be.

“Right.” You added skeptically. Before noticing all the boys’ attention had diverted to the woman standing outside of the school.

“Betty Ripsom's mom.” Stan said what you all were thinking. “Does she really expect to see her coming out of the school?” You winced at the harshness of the statement. You didn’t know Betty Ripsom, but you had a class or two with her best friend Anne and that girl hadn’t been the same since Betty disappeared. You couldn’t blame her though, if Bev or any of the losers went missing a few screws in your brain would come undone.

“I don't know.” Eddie added, as you all continued to stand there staring at her.

“As if Betty Ripsom's been hiding in Home Ec for the last few weeks.” Richie, of course. You gave him a pointed look and he shrugged.

“Do you think they'll actually find her?” Stan asked.

“Yes.” You spoke finally, giving Bill a reassuring squeeze on the arm.

“In a ditch. All decomposed, covered in worms and maggots, smelling,” You flinched, for Bill's sake. You know Richie didn’t mean to say it to weaken Bills mural, but you felt him shudder.

“like Eddie's mom's underwear.”

“Shut up!” Eddie yelled fed up with Richie's inappropriate comments.

“Gross.” Stan added.

“She's not dead.” Bill said suddenly, looking up from whatever had interested him on the ground. “She m-m-m-missing.”

“Sorry Bill, she's missing.” Richie was obviously apologetic. He sometimes forgot to filter his feelings on the missing kids, but in all honesty, he thought they were dead. Richie caught you squeezing Bills arm and couldn’t help but wonder if maybe your feelings were directed to Bill and not him. A pit was forming in the bottom of his stomach until you let go of Bills arm and walked over to stand next to him.

“Good job Tozier.” You whispered so only he could hear you. He smirked, the pit evaporating at your closeness. “You know the barrens aren't that bad.” You tried to encourage the other 3 boys to accompany you and Bill.

“Who doesn't love splashing around in shitty water.” Eddie grumbled. You all laughed at him, knowing that he was going to come regardless. You found yourself leaning into Richie subconsciously, though Richie had noticed prior. You decided not to move as the conversation carried on and you all made plans for tomorrow. Richie had gotten himself a car from the local used car shop, it wasn’t much, and it had constant breakdowns, but it worked. Stan had a car as well, though it was more his father's than his. Eddie didn’t have one because his mom told him driving could kill, and Bill just wasn’t ready for the pressure of the driving test. You were supposed to have had a car already, but your parents kept forgetting, not that you expected much. You were probably going to end up like Rich and just buy one from the junkyard, though in all honesty that 1988 BMW your parents had promised sounded amazing. Bill and Eddie had decided that they would bike to Stan’s and have him drive them because of the outstanding safety concerns of Richie's car. You didn’t mind as much as they did, and your heart cracked at the thought of Rich being alone, so you told him to pick you up. The innocent and cheery moment between your friends was soon destroyed by a pressure on your shoulder. You turned around to see Bowers smirking down at you as you tensed up. Richie was the first to react and grabbed you shoving you behind him. Though you had a burst of courage in 9th grade, it only antagonized Henry more. He had never repeated his sexual actions, but it didn’t stop him from getting all your in face.

“D-D-Don’t fucking touch her B-Bowers.” Bill spoke up as the boys blocked you from him and Hockstetter. You shivered as your skin began to grow clammy and warm.  

“Bill shut up.” You warned, finding your voice. You didn’t want them to get hurt for you, not again. Especially since Bill had come out of this year bruise free.

“Did you s-s-s-say something, B-b-b-b-Billy.” Henry began lowering himself, so he was facing Bill. “You got a free ride this year cuz of your little brother.” Bill flinched slightly. “Ride's over, Denbrough. This summer it's going to be a hurt-train, for you and your faggot friends.” Henry straightened himself winking at you before walking away. Richie made a move to go after him, but you grabbed his arm.

“Not worth it.” You shook your head, causing his riled-up expression to soften.

“I wish he’d disappear.” He settled on saying watching as Henry and his friends made their way over to their dingy car.

“He's probably the one doing it.” Stan said shaking his head.

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

“Parents suck.” You comment suddenly after the near silent drive you and Richie had to your house. You could see the darkness of your place from your position on the curb. They had just returned home two days ago, and now they were gone again. You practically lived with strangers. You tried your hardest to act like the absence didn’t bother you, but sometimes quiet is violent.

“Yeah,” He comments thinking back to the black eyes and drunken mothers he had to endure at home. “Yeah they fucking do.” You shook your head, reaching for the car door handle when his arm came out and stopped you. “Are you okay?” He asked suddenly, and your heart plummeted. Richie felt this question was a long time coming, you had a surprisingly good poker face but sometimes it slipped off and though you were unaware, Richie had noticed. You didn’t know the answer to his question. It was age-old, and you had hoped never to hear it. Were you okay? You didn’t know. You cried yourself to sleep at night, couldn’t find pleasure it basic things, and smiled almost every chance you got to try and make your brain happy by force. Sometimes you didn’t eat for days, and at times you wouldn’t leave your house for a week before Eddie came to drag you out for fresh hair. You looked in the mirror and never liked what you saw, and always found yourself hating you. You were your own worst enemy, sometimes you felt so much and sometimes you felt nothing at all. So, were you okay?

“I'm fine!” You stated too loudly, and seconds too late as you plastered a smile onto your face. Richie cocked an eyebrow, he had seen the wheels in your head turning for an answer. You climbed out the car, you back to him as you took a few breathes in to calm your racing mind. “Want to come in? My parents won’t be home for,” you paused not knowing an answer “a period of time that I’m sure extends past this night.”

“Didn’t they just fucking come back?” Richie’s voice was laced with agitation. He didn’t like the thought of you being left alone.

“Yep.”

“And those dickheads left again?”

“Yep.” You stated again not wanting the obvious pointed out, and not wanting pity. All your lives were hard, Eddie's mom was obsessive, Stan's dad was too strict, Richie's parents were either fighting each other or him, Mike's parents died, Beverly's dad liked her in ways a parent shouldn’t like a child, and Bill’s parents had too much to deal with after Georgie’s death. You were a rag tag team of kids with fucked up lives. So, he shouldn’t have been questioning you. “You coming in or not?” You smiled again, turning to face him. Richie didn’t like it, he didn’t like the plastic smile you were giving him, and he didn’t like how much you were hiding inside yourself. He recalled the conversation he had with Beverly in 8th grade.

“Yeah.” He said sighing. You bounced on your toes in response and began walking to your house with Richie in tow. “(Y/N).” He said once you were both inside taking of your jackets and shoes.

“Yeah, Richie Rich.” You looked up at him with a smile, more genuine than the last one. His heart sped up, this was it. You were both alone, no friends around to interrupt you. You were looking up at him with a smile, and Richie saw his entire world in your eyes. He’d been carrying these feelings since he was 11, and had been in love since he was 13. Maybe, if he confessed your smile would brighten up a little more. Richie knew you weren’t a toy that could simply be fixed but he wanted to support you every step of the way. And maybe the first step would have to be him telling you that he was in love with you. “Rich?” You questioned, his face turning into a tomato.

“I love you.” He said suddenly. Your eyebrows knitted in confusion, your heart speeding up. Did he mean he loved you, like romantically? Did you even know if you felt that way? You felt a lot of things around Richie, things the other boys couldn’t make you feel. Your palms would sometimes grow clammy when he flirted with you, when he protected you always felt the safest, and your heart always sped up at the smallest of touches, but you always attributed these things to you guys being close. So, was Richie saying he was in love with you? Or was he just saying it as a good friend? You decided on the latter. Giggling slightly.

“Duh Rich, I love you too. You’re like my favorite loser.” Richie’s heart sunk, this didn’t go as he expected at all. You didn’t even understand what he meant. “I would go as far to say best friend, but Beverly would kill me.” Richie smiled at you sadly. He loved you as more than that, he loved you as more than anything. Yet here you were, smiling at him as if he had just said the most innocent thing in the world. He considered correcting you, at the same time he considered just pushing you against your door and kissing you until you felt what he meant. But he did neither, instead he took your hand and lead you to the living room.

“Let’s watch a movie short stuff, nothing with clowns. Those freak me the fuck out.”

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

That night, you found yourself asking Richie to stay with you in your bed. You didn’t know what had come over you, just that you didn’t want him to leave. He’d stuttered for a few seconds before agreeing.

“I always knew I’d be the first one to get laid.” He’d said as you shoved him in the arm. You felt like tonight you had made a big error in judgement when Richie told you he loved you, but you rather never know than lose him. Lying next to you, in your Dad's night clothes, Richie again felt like he was going to explode. Your breathing had evened out after a few minutes, and Richie smiled to himself. It wasn’t until you in your sleeping state, laid your head on his chest did he realize just how fucked he was.

Richie Tozier used to think his biggest fear was clowns, now it was that he was going to lose you.

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