inevitable - stanley uris x reader

chapter eight - the barrens

It had been a few hours since you and Richie had made your departure from the quarry and the rest of the boys.  You were now lying in your bed, a book propped up on your chest.  Your eyes scanned over the words, pages and pages of paragraphs that flowed like honey across the stark white pages of the novel.  You were currently reading Annie on My Mind, a beautiful book.  One of your favorites, actually.  You aspired to be a writer when you were older.  You even kept your own journal, deep within one of the drawers in your dresser.  In there you could jot down ideas, pour your heart out into a jumble of words, alleviate tension within yourself, and simply feel free.  English had always been your best subject, and although many people considered you odd for it, you absolutely adored anything having to do with literature and writing.   Your hands traced delicately over the crumpled pages of the worn out novel, and you let your eyes close, the spine of the old book bending a bit under your touch.  

You relaxed into the sheets beneath you, a sigh slipping through your lips.  Suddenly, your feelings of bliss were broken as your door was flung open by none other than your brother himself.

"Hey n/n," he said, his voice restless and rushed.  'He sounds like he's high or something,' you thought with a snort.  He disregarded your outburst, continuing.  "We're meeting the boys at Eddie's in like 15 minutes, so get your ass up," he said playfully.  

"Okay," you responded, your voice breathy and tired.  With that he left your room, closing the door behind him.  He yelled out one last "Be ready!" as he walked down the hallway of your house.  

You let out a heavy groan as you pushed yourself out of your bed, steadying yourself with your bed post as stood.  You trudged over to your closet, taking out a white knit sweater and putting it over the floral button down dress you were wearing.  You pulled on a pair of beat up white Keds, fastening the laces to fit your feet.  You leapt towards the hallway, pulling the door open.  You carefully left your room, closing the door softly behind you.  You weren't sure if your father was home, but just in case you made certain to only step on the floorboards which you had memorized as those ones which don't creak.

After having made it through your house, you pulled open the front door, exhaling as you were met with the sight of Richie trying to balance both of your bikes against himself.  He was, to put it lightly, failing miserably.  You chuckled lightly, walking towards your struggling brother and grabbing ahold of your bicycle.  

"Alright four eyes, let's go," you said in a lighthearted tone.  

"Fine then, pumpkin," He said in retaliation, using the dreaded nickname which your father had called you for almost all of your life.  You stopped, turning towards your smirking brother.  

"Oh you're going to get it for that Rich!" You said, giggling at how hostile your voice sounded.

"Holy shit, fuck!" Richie called out as he clumsily mounted his bike, taking off down the road.  "Don't kill me n/n, please! N/N!" He called out as he sped down the street with you hot on his tail.  You laughed as you raced through the unevenly paved streets, the wind blowing your h/c locks behind you as your dress flowed gently around your slightly bruised knees.  You two went on like this for what must have been ten minutes, Richie biking away from you, you catching up to him, and the same process repeating over and over again.  

After all this had happened, you two had finally reached Eddie's house, met with the sight of Silver, Bill's bike lying across the lawn, and Stanley's navy bicycle, which was propped up on the sidewalk by its kickstand.  You two were the last ones to arrive.  You ran up to Eddie's door, preparing to knock, that is, until your brother shoved you aside, forcing the door open.  

"Hiya Eddie Spagetti!" Richie called out into the house, closing his eyes as he grinned.  Eddie jolted his head up, glaring at Richie from inside of his kitchen.  He waltzed over to the boy, swinging his arms as he did so.  You followed somewhat awkwardly behind him, glancing around the dimly lit house.  You caught sight of Mrs. Kaspbrak, who was sitting lazily in her chair, filing her nails as she stared warningly at you.  You knew that she had never trusted a "girl like you" around her son, whatever that was supposed to mean, but that didn't stop you from hanging out with the little asthmatic.  You quickly adverted your eyes from the round woman, bringing your attention back to the boys in the kitchen.  You walked quietly towards them, eventually coming to a stop and pushing yourself up to sit on the kitchen island.