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blackhakumen · 4 years

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Mini Fanfic #574: Flying in the Skies with a Witch (SSBU)

8:45 p.m Outside and Above Smash Town.....

Ashley: (Flying her Trusty Magical Broom Nice and Slowly in the Night Sky) Lucas! How are you holding up back there?

Lucas: (Sitting Right Behind Ashley While Nervously Holding Onto a Little Tightly) I-I'm doing okay! J-Just feeling a bit nervous is all.

Ashley: Just keep holding onto me the best that you can, okay? I promise I won't let you fall.

Lucas: Okay! Thank you. (Frowns a Little While Sighing a Little) I'm really sorry for being a chicken and slowing you down, Ashley.....

Ashley: Lucas, don't say that. You have nothing to apologize for. And you are certainly not a chicken. The only reason I'm riding this broom in a slower place is so I could have you enjoy this evening while keeping you safe at the same time.

Lucas: Wait. You're....doing all of this for me?

Ashley: (Giggles a Little) Why, of course. Have you've already forgotten our oath to look out for one another?~

Lucas: (Starts Blushing a Little) N-N-No! No! Of course not. I-I could never forget something like that! Really!...(Smiles Softly) Still, I can't thank you enough for even bringing me out here for a ride in the first place. (Look Around the Skies) It looks really beautiful from up here.

Ashley: Yes. The skies does tend to show off it's beauty rather well in the nighttime.

Lucas: Yeah.....(Turns Back to Ashley) Have you always taken a ride on your magic broom around back where you were in your old town?

Ashley: I have. But I mostly use him for getting errands and going on magical quests.

Lucas: Wait. "Him"?

Ashley: Oh. I forgot to mention this to you back in the mansion earlier, but the broom that we're riding on is a little red demon assistant of mine name Red.

Lucas: Oh. Uh..(Looks Down at the Broom and Waves at Him) H-Hi, Red.

Red: (As a Broom) Hiya, Lucas!

Lucas: (Genuinely Surprised by a Magical Broom Talking to Him) ('Gasps') (Oh my gosh! He really his a talking magical broom!) Y-You really know who I am?

Red: (Chuckles Lightly) Why, of course. How can I NOT know who Ashley's boyfriend is. She practically talks about you all the time!

Ashley: (Immediately Starts to Blush)....

Lucas: She does?

Red: That's right!~ She told me how kind and cute you are. She even told that when you two grow up, she wants to ask you in your hand of marr-

Ashley: (Looks Down and Gives Red a Death Glare) .............

Red: (Immediately Starts Sweating Bullets in Fear) I-I-I-I meant to say that she says s-she loves you! Yeah! She told me how much she loves you and everything! (Chuckles Awkwardly) S-She definitely didn't say anything about the m-word.... Honest.

Lucas: (Heart Begins to Melt While He Begins to Smile Softly) Aww~ Ashley, I love you too!~

Ashley: (Blush Starts Coming Back) Thank you~....... (I really wish I could see that adorable smile of his right now!~)

Lucas: Oh! I forgot to ask! What kind costume you're gonna wear this year in Halloween?

Ashley: I'll probably wear the same attire I always wear modernly. Everyone in town already believes that I'm a witch anyways. What about you, Lucas?

Lucas: Well.....I thought about it a lot yesterday and....(Smiles Brightly) I decided to go as a witch. Just like you.

Ashley: (Genuinely Surprised by Lucas' Answer) Really?

Lucas: Yeah. I already think you and any other witches are all great in general. S-So I'd figured I go as one too.... B-But only just for Halloween night, of course.

Ashley: (Giggles Softly) I think you'll make a wonderful witch, Lucas~

Lucas: (Blushes Once More While Smiling) Thanks!~ I think you're wonderful too, Ashley~

Ashley: (Blushes Once More As Well Before Smiling Softly) Thank you again~ (Well....As long as I can still his wonderful voice behind me, that alone will be good enough for me~)

@keyenuta

@cyber-wildcat

@princeoflions123

@26shann

@italian-love-cake

@incorrectsmashbrosquotes

@albion-93

@ink-correctsmashbrosbloo

@gengar-sans

#super smash ultimate #ashley warioware #lucas #red (warioware)#cute romance #lots and lots of fluff here #a bit of humor #lucas x ashley #magical broom ride #halloween month #have to edited it again to make it perfect. sorry about that

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h-styles-babes · 7 years

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No Control | Chapter Seventeen

Summary:

Micky Bennett: college student, loyal friend, aspiring nurse, One Direction fan, Harry Styles enthusiast. Her best friend, Trevor, wins tickets to a show in New Jersey with meet and greet passes. Micky expects a quick photo op with the boys and a great night at the concert with her best friend. What she gets a whole lot more than she bargained for.

To read previous chapters, you can go here.

*Please feel free to reblog and send feedback. It’s much appreciated :)*

*Gif is not mine.*

SEVENTEEN

The Coopers stick around well into the evening, playing a game of croquet in the yard that Robin set up after we all ate. The adults all play while the younger crowd sits back and laughs as the intoxicated parents bumble around, trying to knock the other balls off course. Harry keeps me in his lap all day, hands roaming over my jeans and up under my shirt to touch my bare skin when he can. Around the time the sun starts to go down, I can feel him begin to get restless, shifting in the seat constantly. Jen hasn’t really taken her eyes off us the entire day, so I think it’s in discomfort of having her practically stare at us, until he whispers in my ear.

“I need to have you, pet,” he says, lips grazing against my earlobe. He pulls me closer against him, and I can feel his erection press into my bum, making him hiss at the contact. “Think we can sneak away for a bit while everyone’s preoccupied out here?”

I glance around, taking note that Gemma’s on her phone, taking pictures of the game on Snapchat, laughing as her mum stumbles over her own feet for no reason. They’re all well entertained and not at all paying attention to Harry and me, except for Jen.

“In your mum’s home, Harry?” I ask, unsure if this is a good idea.

“It’s turning me on more thinking about it, angel,” he admits, teeth nipping at my ear now. “Never had anyone there before.”

“The sneaking around and the possibility of getting caught turns you on, doesn’t it?” I guess.

“Absolutely.”

I don’t really have to think about it; I just hop off his lap and grab ahold of his hand, helping him out of the lounger and letting him lead the way inside. I haven’t made it past the first floor all day, so I have no idea where his bedroom is. He leads me up the stairs and down the hall to the very last door on the right. I’m actually quite thankful that his bedroom is so far, hoping that maybe it’ll make it less likely for anyone to hear anything that might come from his room.

“Strip for me,” he demands, shutting and locking the door behind us. When he turns back to me, there’s a look in his eye that makes me shiver and heats me from the inside out all at the same time.

I smirk and let my fingers untie the material at the bottom of my shirt. “Anything for you, daddy.”

Harry and I leave early the next morning for the three hour drive to London. We stay just long enough to have a cuppa with Anne and Robin, and I thank them profusely for having me and welcoming me into their home for the day.

“It was wonderful to meet you, darling,” Anne insists, reaching over from where she’s sat across from me to grab my hand. “Anyone that Harry is so comfortable with and enjoys so much is more than welcome in our home.”

I can feel the blush rising on my face as Harry smiles at me, looking very content and a little blissed out, if I’m quite honest. The sex the night before was amazing, but I don’t think it warranted this level of relaxation twelve hours later. I smile back at him shyly.

The weather has gotten a bit nippy, so I’ve dressed in jeans, one of my favorite tees, and a black and pink Valentino bomber jacket that is much too expensive. The jacket, as well as the black Coach ankle boots I’m wearing were gifts from Trevor that resulted in his father not being able to see him on holidays. Whenever that happens, his dad wires him more money that usually results in shopping trips from Trevor. And since his own closet is to the point of nearly bursting, he takes it upon himself to make sure I’m well dressed, too. In the beginning, I flat out refused to accept any of the designer things he always bought, but he eventually wore me down, saying it’s what friends are for and he likes being able to do something nice with the guilt money that his dad’s always sending him.

“Like that jacket,” Harry compliments as we merge onto the highway. I look down at the bird and flower design and run my fingers over the slick satin. “It was a gift from Trevor. Valentino and I don’t even want to know how much it cost him.” I cringe just thinking about it.

“Valentino?” Harry asks. He glances over and looks at the jacket, rocking his head back in forth in contemplation. “Probably about three thousand pounds.” I gape. “That’s nearly four thousand dollars.”

Harry shrugs. “It’s Valentino, love. Shit’s not cheap.” He pulls at the jacket he’s wearing, a brown leather thing a pocket at each breast and diamond shaped cutouts. “Saint Laurent. About twenty-five hundred pounds.”

“Oh God,” I breathe out. “I don’t even want to know how much those damn button down shirts you wear cost. Could probably pay for my entire wardrobe with three of them.”

He chuckles and glances over at me, pushing his sunnies up into his hair as the sun goes behind the clouds. “Probably. I only wear them when I know I’m gonna be out, though. I don’t wear them to just lounge about the house.”

“Oh, that’s a relief,” I mutter sarcastically. I take a look at what he’s wearing now. He’s got on a tunic style grey shirt underneath with some buttons that go until about mid-chest, all unbuttoned of course. It looks like he could have bought it for thirty quid at TopShop, or it could be a ridiculously expensive article from Gucci or something equally over the top.

“Also Saint Laurent,” he quickly tells me, seeing me eyeing the shirt.

“Are we going out today, then?” I ask. I’ve seen him in a regular t-shirts before that I know were bought in the package because I could see the Hanes label on the neck, but I’ve only seen him wear those to lounge around in.

“Gonna stop by my house first, and then I have some mates who want to go to lunch, if that’s alright?” He looks over at me, a look of slight concern on his face, like he thinks I’ll nix his plans for the day, even though he’s probably had these plans a week out. I’m not his girlfriend and I’m not in the business of telling him what he can and cannot do, so I just shrug and nod.

“Fine by me. When do you think you’ll be back?” I ask. It’s been awhile since I’ve been to London, so I’m sure I can find something to do if I venture out on my own while he catches up with friends. There’s a medical museum in the area that I’d like to visit, now that I’m thinking about it.

His eyebrows shoot up on his head. “What? You’re not gonna come with me?”

I furrow my brows in confusion. “You want me to come with you? To meet your mates?”

“Well…” he gives me a look like that was obvious, “yeah. I want them to meet you. I wasn’t gonna bring you to London and then abandon you as soon as we got there. All my plans for the next few days now include you.”

“Oh,” is all I can say for a few moments as I realize Harry actually wants me to tag along with him. “Well, okay. Where are we going, then?”

“Just an Indian place in Covent Gardens,” he assures. “Might go out to do a bit of walking afterward.”

I look down at what I’m wearing again, taking in my plain jeans and the shirt I did get from TopShop for thirty quid. It’s just a white tee with the words “Females of the Future” in black block letters on the front. I look nowhere near acceptable to be standing beside Harry Styles, much less having lunch with him and his undoubtedly famous friends. The expensive-as-hell jacket I’m wearing is not a very good facade for what I’m wearing underneath. “Should I change?”

“No. I like your shirt. And your ass looks good in those jeans.” He smirks over at me.

I glare at him. “Yeah, and they were a bitch to get on this morning, thanks to you.” The bruises that had finally begun to fade from my bum were replaced with a vengeance last night.

“Weren’t complaining about it when I gave them to you, were you, princess?” Harry asks rhetorically. “Actually, I quite vividly recall you begging for them.”

“The term ‘princess’ is forever ruined for me. I’m gonna get turned on any time anyone says it in any context, now.”

Harry laughs, a loud barking laugh that I love hearing out of him, because it’s something he can’t control and it’s absolutely adorable how embarrassed he gets by it. “How do you think I feel about ‘daddy?’ I’m never gonna be able to have kids. They’ll have to call me by my first name or something.”

We tease each other back and forth for the remainder of the drive into London. We don’t ever pass through central London, but we eventually get towards a residential area near Hampstead Heath, and Harry slows the car down. We pass by a few little family-owned shoppes before he turns into the beginning of a driveway, closed off by a barn door style gate set into a brick wall that surrounds his property and butts up to his white house. He presses a button that he keeps on his visor like a garage door opener and the door begins to slide open, revealing Harry’s yard and the backs of the houses his is next to.

Harry’s house is large, but not overly so. It’s three stories, from what I can ascertain, and it’s got lots of little square windows. It’s big for a house in London, or the UK in general, but it’s about the normal size of a home in America. Harry pulls his car in and parks it just inside the wall, waiting for the gate to close before getting out. He quickly comes to my side to help me out, and I’m hit by the humidity and coolness of London. We live further from the coast, so we don’t get much of the mugginess, but I can nearly smell the water here.

Harry holds my hand and carries both of our bags over his shoulders as he shows me into his house. The door he leads me through takes us directly into a modernly furnished sitting room, but I can definitely tell that only a man lives here with it’s sharp lines and neutral colors. It smells like Harry, though, even though he hasn’t been here in awhile, the cinnamon smell of his parents’ house permeating here as well.

“This is the sitting room, and through there is a family room,” he says, beginning a tour. He points to our left where an archway leads to a more cozy, intimate looking room is decorated with photos and warm colors. He pulls me toward a hallways and motions to the right. “That’s the kitchen, and straight ahead is the gym.” He has me follow him up a flight of stairs to the next floor. When we get to the landing, he points left first. “Bedroom I turned into a studio.” Points ahead. “Guest room.” Points to the right. “Extra room I have nothing to do with. No idea what to do with it, honestly. It’s a bit small.” We turn and head up to the final story, which only has the landing and two doors on it. “That door leads to the rooftop patio. Nice to go out there at night.” He takes hold of my hand again and pulls me through the remaining door. “And this is the master bedroom.”

His room looks cozy, with the warm colors and the dark wood of his furniture. It’s manly but also warm and very him. There’s artwork on the walls and a binder on his dresser that looks to be chuck full of something. The room is massive, and the bed in the center is a four poster with lots of pillows and fluffy looking grey bedding. He’s got a telly set up on the wall opposite the bed as well as a small entertainment center that holds a DVD player and a game console. There’s sliding doors that I assume lead to his bathroom, and, judging by the square footage I know is left on this story, it’s massive.

Harry sets our bags down on a leather seat that runs the length of his bed at its foot, then turns and pulls me against him, his hands resting on my hips. He leans down and presses his forehead to mine, our noses touching.

“I’m glad you came with me,” he tells me, his voice barely above a whisper. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be right now, Harry,” I admit.

Harry presses his lips to mine, delicately cradling my face in his hands. We kiss leisurely and without intent of this going anywhere else. We’re just enjoying the feeling of having each other.

He pulls away when his phone starts ringing in his pocket. He pulls it out and answers it without hesitation.

“Hello?” He listens intently as the person on the other end speaks. “Alright, we’ll be there in twenty.” Harry’s about to hang up when the other person hurries to tell him something, which makes Harry curl his lip up in annoyance. “Couldn’t have sat inside?” Another pause. “Fine. No, it’s fine. We’ll deal with it.” He hangs up the phone without preamble and sighs. “We’re sitting outside, so just be prepared. Shouldn’t be too bad, since no ones knows I’m in London, but it probably won’t take them very long to figure it out.”

“Hey,” I say, grabbing onto his hands and giving them a reassuring squeeze. “I’m not afraid of some silly pictures, Harry. My face is already out there and it hasn’t been that big of a deal.”

He purses his lips to the side as his thumbs stroke over my knuckles. “I know, I just wish I could keep you to myself.”

I smile reassuringly. “I’m all yours, H. No one can take that away form us. We’ll figure it out, remember?”

Harry smiles and kisses me one more time. “Yeah, we will. Just don’t be afraid to tell me if this all gets to be too much, yeah? Your comfort is my priority while you’re with me.”

“I can handle it, Harry. Promise.” I stand on my tip toes and peace him on his nose, making him scrunch it up with a goofy little grin. “Now c’mon. Don’t want to keep anyone waiting.”

Harry parks his car in a lot a few blocks from where we’re set to eat. He twines his fingers with mine immediately, keeping me close to him as we begin to walk the streets of London. He pulls our hands up to his face as we wait at a crosswalk, kissing the back of mine and smiling at me.

“You’re okay with the PDA?” I ask, slightly surprised. It’s one thing to be out together, but it’s an entirely different thing to have him be so openly affectionate in a non-platonic way. The photos of us in New York were pushing it, but there’s nothing about his gesture now that would leave room for question.

“Can’t let the media rule my life,” he explains as we begin to walk. “My fucking life. I’ll love on who I please and not give a shit about who sees. You’re my girl, Mick. Not gonna let fans or paps ruin that.”

My heart swells at his sweet words and his disregard for anyone else’s opinions. I’m not sure his management would feel the same way, but I don’t really care about them. Harry’ll be rid of them in a few month’s time anyway, so there’s not much they can do about it. His fans are a whole other monster, though. But they’re a hurdle no matter what he does, so I’m sure he’s pretty over it by now.

We walk up to chic-looking Indian restaurant that has a few tables outside, right next to a Jamie Oliver’s and a few other places. There’s a group of three already sat at a table, but they seem to be the only ones. It’s only a little before noon, so I’m sure the restaurant has only recently opened for the day. Harry slings his arm around my shoulders as we get closer, and I wrap an arm around his waist so we can walk together comfortably.

The group’s faces become clear as we approach, and I balk a little at who I see. Sat at the table are none other than Nick Grimshaw and a couple of his and Harry’s mutual friends.

“Is that Cara Delevingne and Rita Ora?” I ask, hearing the own trepidation in my voice. Nick I was expecting, because he and Harry are close, and I can handle him seeing as we’ve spoken on the phone before, but Cara and Rita are on another plane. They’re both completely gorgeous and I’m intimidated to be even within twenty metres of them.

“Yeah,” Harry answers casually with a shrug. Then I think he realizes that I’m not also a famous individual and looks down at me. “You alright, princess?”

“Yeah, just gonna be constantly judging myself against a gorgeous model and a beautiful singer. No big deal.”

Harry laughs and presses a kiss to my temple. “They’re just as weird as I am. You’ll get used to them. Plus, you’re every bit as stunning as both of them.”

There’s a hostess outside who’s eyes widen when she sees Harry and moves to greet him, but he just waves her off with a polite smile. “’S alright. We’re right here,” he tells her, gesturing to the people sitting at the table.

The sole man turns his head round over his shoulder and lights up with a big smile when he spots Harry.

“Baby Harold!” he greets, getting up from his seat to sling his arms around Harry in a hug. “How kind of you to join us. Who’s your friend?” Grammy looks me up and down, his grin never leaving his face.

“Grim, this is Micky. Believe you met on the phone last week.”

Grimmy’s eyes bug out a bit as he looks at me, his grin widening. “The famous Micky. You’re just as stunning as your voice suggested.” He doesn’t hesitate in pulling me into a hug as well, lingering like we’ve known each other for years instead of a two minute phone call and the previous thirty seconds. “Come, sit. Tell me all the dirt you’ve gotten from Harold in the last week. I need more blackmail material.”

I laugh as Harry pulls out a seat for me. As he sets himself down he gestures at the two other women at our table. “Mick, this is Cara and Rita. Guys, this is Micky Bennett.”

Both of them smile at me warmly and greet me kindly.

“Nice to meet you guys,” I say, tamping down the anxiety I feel building in my chest. I’ve had the biggest crush on Cara since I found out who she was, and Rita is so gorgeous and she’s got a great voice, and I feel so insignificant amongst all the pretty faces at the table.

I can feel myself getting hot, so I unzip my jacket and remove it to rest it over the back of the chair. Harry’s reaches under the table and sets his hand on my thigh, offering me comfort when I’m sure he can see I’m a bit overwhelmed.

“Oh, my God,” Nick bursts, hands braced on the table from where he’s sat at the head. He’s gawking down at my shirt, and I’m not sure what he’s on about until he says, “I’m sorry, but you’ve got the best pair of tits I’ve seen. No offense, Cara. Yours are great, but Micky is killing it right now.”

She shakes her head with a shrug. “No, you’re right, they’re great,” she says, looking over my chest. “Like the shirt, too. I’ve got one in red print.”

Harry and Rita laugh at my obvious astonishment at this chain of events. I’m not sure what it is about gay men and my breasts, but I just kind of roll with it at this point. Trevor has a weird thing for them, and apparently Nick has now joined that wagon.

“Uh…thanks?” I mutter, glancing down at myself. They don’t look particularly perky today or anything, though they do kind of pull at the material of my shirt in a way that very obviously shows I’m not wearing a bra. Having worn one for the entirety of the day before reminded me how much I hate them, so I made sure I would not be wearing one today.

“Alright, enough staring at my girl’s chest,” Harry announces. “Let’s order; I’m starving.”

I don’t miss how the other three at the table raise their eyebrows at each other with Harry’s declaration.

EIGHTEEN

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #one direction #No Control

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felinehypocritical · 7 years

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hey!!! i would love love love to read something about bev and bill going on their first date or something? they're all just so cute, and i love the way you write them

The first time Beverly Marsh goes on a date, she takes every single precaution she can think of.

The first step she thought to take is to make sure her father is out that night- but that, of course, is a given. Beverly never did much of anything when her father’s around.

The second step was to clear it with her mother. Of course, that was not too hard. Bev’s mother cared little about whatever her daughter does, as long as Alvin doesn’t find out.

The third step was to brush her hair until it gleamed like dimly heated coals in the bottom of a fire, the small blondish filaments in the strands glimmering in the flip curls she set in her hair the night before, and pull on the outfit she herself had sewn from the money she earned babysitting. Her mother had a beaming smile on her face when she saw Beverly sitting by the fire, sewing her circle skirt and bolero, grateful that her girl had finally begun to “woman up”, as she called it.

An so, after those three steps, Beverly hesitantly padded out of her room in her powder blue outfit and modernly styled hair flip, looking more radiant than most people thought possible, even for a gorgeous girl like Bevvie. Elfrida looked up from her book, smiling slightly at her daughter.

“Hey, sweetie.”

“Hey, mom.” She hugged the older woman, kissing her cheek and letting her mother try to straighten any discrepancies Bev herself had missed. “So, I put the lasagna in the fridge, and it’s good cold, but the neighbors have a microwave so they’ll let you borrow it if you want, momma-”

Elfrida rolled her eyes, rubbing Beverly’s shoulders. “I know, I know, Bevvie. Jeez louise, don’t you trust your old woman? I can take care of myself, sweetie.”

Beverly shifted. “I know, it’s just-” She was interrupted by a knock at the door, and she scrambled to get to it. Opening the creaky screen thing she’d learned to call her front entrance, she beamed up at the third redhead to enter the cramped apartment. “Hello, Bill!”

The boy smiled back, handing her a small book he’d been carrying that she took immediately and with thanks. “H-hello, Bevvie.” The mother hovering near them tensed at the sound of a man using that name on her daughter, but seeing how earnest and truthful the boy looked, and how happy Beverly’s expression was, she relaxed. This boy was no Alvin Marsh, nothing to be worried about. He looked almost soft, but there was something about his features, something that told of wiseness beyond his years and a set to his eyes that spoke volumes, as well as the small cut on his upper lip that had scarred over and already begun to disappear. Must’ve been a childhood accident, she thought, before starting into the present and seeing the two teenagers staring at her.

“Okay, anyways, so mom, we’re gonna head out, is that okay?”

Elfrida cleared her throat. “Uh… yeah. That’s okay. Have fun, sweetie!” She hugged Beverly one last time, holding the door open for the couple, before collapsing in her chair with a sigh. Oh, but what was her Beverly getting up to now?

Outside, the two teenagers sat pretty in the front of Bill’s father’s borrowed car. Beverly looked out the window pensively, avoiding eye contact with Bill, who stole a kiss on her cheek before started the car.

“Aw, huh-heck, Bev,” he started. “W-w-we’re, like, buh-best friends, let’s stop being so awkward.”

“It’s only awkward if you make it awkward, Billy. So stop it.” She grinned up at the boy, letting him rest his free hand over hers, even though her mind was full of worries about him driving one handed at this time on a summer night. They’d crash, she was sure they would, because Beverly Marsh got the shortest end of the stick in every game, every situation, every pair. She was sure to crash.

After all, isn’t something like this too good to be true? Isn’t sitting in a car with Bill Denbrough, Mister Congeniality, driving next to her in his slacks and shirt and shiny shoes looking just as handsome as ever. Girls like Bev weren’t meant to have guys like Bill, guys who

(piss rosewater)

drive fancier cars and can afford new suits each dance but don’t buy them, pay for everyone’s food at the diner, wear aftershave from somewhere other than a discount department store window and have shiny white teeth. Beverly was just a girl, a poor little girl whose father beat her because she wasn’t good enough, smart enough, quick enough to get away, whose nail polish was always uneven and chipped and slightly offshade. Did Bill know that? Did he realize how good he could get? She felt tempted to ask.

But she said nothing of the sort, and stayed sitting perfectly still as she looked sideways at Bill. She pressed her thumb onto a bruise in her arm and felt the dull throb. She was still here.

Bill cleared his throat. “S-so, what p-picture do you want to see?”

She shrugged. “Dunno. What’s on, Big Bill?” She grinned at him, her retainer showing and gleaming slightly in the dying light. Despite the bar of metal, Bill couldn’t help but feel as if she could move the sky with her smile, and the urge to kiss her was back, this time stronger than ever.

“Uh, I th-think that a horror duh-double feature is on, is th-thuh-that okay?” Bill worried his lip, stealing a glance at his date- even the word sounded wonderful, date- already imagining the way Beverly might curl up into him, might want to hold hands so she wouldn’t get scared- but that wasn’t Beverly. The scared, skittish little girl in Bill’s mind wasn’t Beverly, who was strong and proud and didn’t need anyone else to hold her hand through things, and especially a man. Maybe she’d want to giggle with him about the campy effects, pull him in close and point out how you can see the dead bodies breathing in the back of the scene. Maybe she’d make fun of him for his reactions to the gore and smile affectionately at him. But she most DEFINITELY wouldn’t be scared.

That wasn’t Beverly Marsh.

“Sure, sounds good.”

The two rode in a comfortable lull of quiet banter about their friends and their lives and their school, spaced with lengthy silences where Bill turned the radio up a tad and tapped his feet, because after all, Bev and Bill are friends, but that didn’t stop them from having the awkward, first-date aura teenagers have.

And so it was. The movies were fun and light-hearted in a fifties horror way, and Beverly on several occasions snorted in laughter at the ridiculousness that were I Was a Teenage Werewolf and House of Wax. Bill thought it was all adorable, with her nose scrunched up and her eyes crinkled, although he’d never tell her unless he wanted a black eye.

Halfway through the second movie, though, Beverly made eye contact with him and mouthed, ‘wanna leave?’

Bill sat up in his chair, rubbing at his eyes and looking at Beverly, who was already putting her seat rest up and leaning across the seat to rest her head against his chest. He shook his head, stretching his arm around her tentatively before she smiled up at him affirmatively and he dropped his arm onto the line of her side. She turned back to the screen and kept watching, breathing in time to Bill’s heart rate as it slowed.

As soon as the movie ended, Beverly was on her feet, large popcorn in her arm resting on her hip as she pulled the sleepy Bill up.

“Get up, sleepyhead!” She said, quite loudly, in his ear. “You fell asleep so many times.”

Bill got up, rubbing his eyes with the back of the hand Beverly was holding, before she began walking away and slapping his jaw with the palm of their hands absently as they moved along.

“S-sorry. Hey, you g-g-gonna throw thuh-hat away?” He gestured to the popcorn.

Beverly looked up at him with a furrowed brow, Holding the popcorn closer to her side as they went out onto the street. “No.”

Bill half smirked, half raised an eyebrow. “Ah-and why’s th-that?”

“Cause it’s free food.” Beverly was mumbling the sentence in shame as she walked on. “I can throw it away, if you want, it’s just…”

Bill’s eyes widened. “Oh.” His smirk was gone. Beverly was saving the popcorn because… OH. How could he have been so stupid? “Bev, I’m suh-suh-s-sorr-”

“You’re sorry.” She sighed a little, her broad shoulders heaving up and down once slowly, before lifting her head up with a twinkle in her eye. “You should be sorry, Denbrough, I’m gonna get you!”“O-oh no!” Bill laughed, feigning surprise and dodging her hands. “Just eat your p-p-popcorn, little g-girl, and leave m-me alone.”

She popped some of the snack into her mouth, eating it before glaring at Bill with her mouth full. “Maybe I WILL,” she said once her mouth was empty. “Want any, by the way?”

“S-sure.” Bill grabbed a handful, throwing them into the air one at a time and arcing them into his mouth as they walked down the street. “Suh-so, where’re w-we going?”

“The park.”

Bill tensed, remembering what had been happening his whole life whenever he went anywhere normal in the dark. “N-no we’re n-not.” He gently wheeled her around until she shook him off defiantly.

“Why? I want to see the fountain at night!” Beverly stared him down, her look comical as she had to tilt her eyes slightly up to meet his and she was holding a large box at least as wide as her hips against her torso, her legs slightly widely set apart.

“N-no. S-sorry, Bevvie, I duh-don’t mean to c-control you, buh-but no.”

“But WHY?” Now it was Bill’s turn to duck his head. Beverly grinned. “Oh my God. Are you scared of the dark?”

Bill Denbrough, the six foot tall cross country team captain, looked away embarrassedly. “I duh-dunno. Maybe,” he mumbled, walking faster as Bev followed him closely, eventually grabbing his hand and pulling him back to her with gales of laughter.

“Oh my God, are you kidding me?” Beverly snorted as Bill’s cheeks turned pink. “Bill Denbrough’s scared of the dark?”

“Shuh-shut up.” Bill grumbled some more until he noticed Bev shivering. “You c-cold, Bevvie?”

“Yeah.”

“You wuh-want my coat?”

“Sure.”

Bill smirked yet again. “Too bad.”

“You’re so difficult, Big Bill, you know that?” Bill smirked at that too, taking the popcorn from her hands and setting it on the trash as they walked past one. He took his jacket off, placing it on Beverly’s shoulders and gently flipping her hair out of the collar, before slipping his hand into Beverly’s and putting their heads closer together. Beverly could smell his aftershave on the coat and on Bill himself, evergreeney and touched with juniper, and she shivered at the sentiment.

“Yuh-you’re not t-t-too easy to pl-pluh-please yourself, Bevvie.” He kissed the side of her mouth after a whispered ask for permission, missing most of her mouth but succeeding in making Bev push back into his lips. “Luh-let’s go g-get you some ruh-real food, huh? A burger instead of puh-p-puh-poh-”

“Popcorn. Got it, Bill.” She kissed him back, pulling him along for what seemed like the umpteenth time that night. “Let’s go.”

And they went.

#stanny.txt #it #beverly marsh #bill denbrough #elfrida marsh #stephen king

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