ANON SAID: @twoshotbev puts so much into their bev muse and i can tell she has her own take on bev and takes her very seriously and the character means a lot to her. she's also a really nice person!

GETTING HER INTO A sitting position was half the battle. it was what he needed to do before he could talk to her. she wasn’t good on her feet right now, that was too dangerous. he needed her down, just in case her knees ended up buckling. just in case she ended up on the floor. he didn’t want to have to pick her up. he didn’t want to have to pick her up today, he needed her strong. he needed her to have this moment of weakness then come back strong. AND FOR A MOMENT there, she was. she was strong. sneering as she spoke with such determination. they needed to stop it. they all needed to stop it. and they would. but he needed her to have a level head, even though god knew his was a bubbling cauldron right now. maybe he’d triggered this. all this talk about leaving. for fucks sake, he was almost out the door every time one of them turned around. he wanted to run like a coward. he was a coward. even now, he needed her strong -- but he thought about using some silly voice to make her smile. he knew it wouldn’t work, not right now. too early.  “bev,” his voice was as kind as he could make it. down on one knee before her, he wasn’t trying to draw her attention away from the floor and to him. he just wanted to be closer to eye level, for when she decided to look at him again. “c’mon bev, deep breathes. it’s alright -- i’m still here, okay? i haven’t ran yet. no one has. we’re all here, we’re together -- we’re going to stop it.” saying those words felt like a nail in his fucking coffin. but it was what beverly needed right now. and it wasn’t a lie, as much as he hated to admit it. his hands came to hold hers if she’d only let him, taking them soft into his own. 

he’s dreamt of this.     when he was a boy, he’d dreamt of beverly and her bright red hair. of threading his fingers through it and knowing, knowing without a shadow of a doubt, that she was his as much as he was hers. he’s always been hers. kept it to himself, begged to whatever may have been above that she would realise one day. that she would want the same. he never expected it to happen - wouldn’t have held it against her, either, if it never happened. but, there she is. telling him everything he’s ever wanted to hear, and ben is dizzy with the emotion that floods him. dizzy with feelings and the realisation that this is real. that this isn’t something he’ll wake up from. something that fucking clown has implanted in his mind, ready to strike now he’s vulnerable. he breathes, and he breathes, and he breathes.     “i love you, too,”     he says, sudden and unable to contain it. has wanted to say it for so long - too long. he smiles, then. soft and vulnerable. insecure, even after everything. he strokes fingers through red hair and his chest doesn’t feel so tight anymore.     “i love you so much.”

“that’s because you fucking kick ass, bev!” there was conviction in his voice, and richard tozier had never sounded so sure about something. because if there was one universal truth in this world it was that. beverly marsh kicked ass. she may not always believe it, she may not always show it -- but richie would always say it. she was strong, she was so strong for going through everything she ever had. she was fucking stronger than him. she wasn’t a coward, she was so fucking brave. and if she needed him to remind her, he always would.  “i’m pretty sure the devil himself couldn’t take you down without you making him quake in his little fucking hooves, and regret ever leaving his frozen lake.”