#(( fellas is it gay to let your best friend give you a hickey ))

[not-bcring]

“You’re either leaving here with a black eye or a hickey. Your choice.” (Fuyuhiko for Kazuichi lmao)

- ✩ 「   @honeydewmuses​​   」 ✩

 「 ☆ 」  Fuyuhiko is one of the toughest men Kazuichi knows… Which is both surprising and, in retrospect, completely understandable. He is a yakuza, after all. Kaz is pretty sure those guys have to be tough or they don’t last long. Plus he’s short. Which inherently means that he’s more likely to have people think they can mess with him. Kazuichi can’t imagine how annoying it would be to have guys think they could walk all over him because he couldn’t do anything about it. To be fair, people STILL do that to Kaz... because he can’t do anything. But it would probably be even worse if he didn’t have a semi-tough exterior to attempt hiding behind.

Fuyuhiko doesn’t have that luxury. He’s too cute... in a manly, cage someone against the wall and make them somehow feel SMALL kinda way. Kaz actually kinda likes it this time, feeling tiny compared to someone else. Having never been cornered like this without leaving with an injury of some sort, this is new territory for Kazuichi. Not that he’s complaining! Hickeys are definitely preferable to black eyes or bloody noses or broken bones or— ... Okay, yeah. This is a depressing line of thought. Time to bail and focus on something else.

Like trying not to make a complete fool of himself, despite not understanding what the FUCK is even happening right now. Barking out an awkward laugh, Kaz presses his back against the wall, palms flat against the surface as Kaz practically tries to slip into it. A futile effort, only further reminding him that he has literally nowhere to go. Burning in his jumpsuit, fingers flex against the wall as he forces himself to NOT nervously tug at the zipper in an attempt to get some relief. He is not prepared for whatever conversation a potential misunderstanding like that could bring. Cheeks flushed pink, equally rose-colored hues avert to the side as he shrugs— in a subconscious attempt to cover his neck —and stammers,  ❝  W-Well, I mean— heh... I’m not gonna choose black eye. That’d be a pretty stupid decision. Right?  ❞  

Tongue flits across his dry lips, hands drumming against the wall in a frantic pace as he looks around and says in a drawn-out voice,  ❝  Sooooooooooooooo... Um— Not to uh, not to be... y’know— but.... um—  ❞  Looking down at Fuyuhiko with clear confusion, he quirks a brow and asks,  ❝  Am I gonna have to bend down or—?  ❞

What... Fuyuhiko is short.   「 ☆ 」 

[chuckaliclous]

Awkward//Reddie

CH 4

CH 1 CH 2 CH 3

Tag list: @eddie-kaspjack @plsshutuprichie @eggosoutfor011 @t-rash-m-outh @strangerthoughts @stenbroughreddie @greywatertrashmouth @second-fannypack

okay folks this is the angsty chapter and i would say im sorry but im just not here we go fellas

Chapter Four: Unfaithful

Richie sat in his living room, gazing out the window at the melting snow on the sidewalk that he would have to shovel later for the buck his dad had promised him. He sighed, returning his attention to his homework on his lap, only wishing Eddie was here to play with his hair as he did the work.

A small crash on the front lawn startled Richie back to reality and he snapped his head up to look out the window, only to see the one and only Stanley Uris throwing his bike down and running to the door. Confused, he went to answer the rapping at the door from his best friend. He flung the door open to discover Stan’s face red and blotchy, tear tracks stained on his cheeks.

“Stan?” Richie questioned. It wasn’t odd for Stan to show up at the Tozier household, but he usually calls first, letting Richie know that he’d be there in exactly seven minutes, as always. And he never left his bike on the grass like that, he always has to use the kickstand or his OCD goes crazy.

“C-Can I come in?” He pleaded. He resembled a sad puppy dog that desperately needed attention at the moment. Richie nodded and Stan threw himself on the couch, trying so hard to hold back tears they both knew were coming.

Richie awkwardly took a seat by him and placed his hand on Stan’s back. “What’s going on, Stan?” He asked, concern lining his face as he looked Stan in the eyes. Richie wasn’t the best with friendly affection in times like these; he only knew how to be with Eddie in his vulnerable times. Even if Stan was his best friend, he’d never seen his guard let down his guard this much. “Oh c’mon now, Stanny boy you can’t start crying or we’ll both be crying.” He smiled lightly, trying to make Stan reciprocate but getting nothing.

“Bowers…” He breathed, then began to cry again.

Richie jumped up, prepared to grab the first aid kit Eddie kept here. Not that he’d know what to do with it, but he could always try. “Shit. Are you hurt?” Stan shook his head and Richie sat back down, trying his best to comfort him. “What happened?” He asked in the most soothing and sympathetic voice Trashmouth Tozier could possibly choke out.

Stan took in a deep watery breath. “He called me a queer… and a fag. And told me I deserved to die like Adrian Mellon.”

“Mellon?” He asked.

“You know… the gay guy that got murdered.”

Richie gulped. “I’m sorry, Stan… but I mean, you’re obviously not, right?” He chuckled a little at the thought, before turning to see Stan’s completely stoic face. Richie wiped the smile off his own face very quickly. “Stan…, w-why didn’t you tell us?” Richie was completely shell-shocked. His own best friend couldn’t say what Richie hadn’t even had to to the Losers. Richie just showed up holding Eddie’s hand one day and never let go, telling anyone who had a problem with it to suck his dick.

“I don’t know,” He confessed, looking down at his hands. “I… was afraid.”

Richie laughed out loud without meaning to. “Stanley, do you even know how gay Eddie and I are? C’mon now. The only problem we’d have is competing to out-gay each other.”

Stan let out a small giggle under his breath, a rarity for whenever Richie made a joke around him. “You know what? You’re not so bad, Tozier.”

Richie felt a pang of anxiousness and guilt in his chest as he realized he was smiling at Stan the way he smiled at Eddie. He quickly  shoved the thought away. “You aren’t so bad yourself, Stanley Urine.” He found himself saying, causing the boys to crack up.

Stan looked up at Richie with huge blue eyes, not expressing sadness anymore. No, it was something more… something Richie was used to seeing in Eddie’s big brown eyes. But Richie wasn’t thinking about Eddie.

In one swift motion, Richie swooped in and his lips were suddenly on Stanley’s. Stan’s heart was beating out of his chest as his lips collided with Richie’s over and over again. Richie felt a wave of guilt overcome him, only to be replaced by excitement. He knew how Eddie’s lips tasted, how his body wriggled beneath him, how his gasps and moans would sound in his ear. But he didn’t know any of this about Stan. He’d never imagined it before, but now he kind of wished he had.

They were horizontal on the living room couch, Richie on top of Stan, Stan’s fingers running wildly through Richie’s knotted hair. Richie didn’t care if he left hickeys on Stan’s ivory neck; it was just begging to be stained by Richie’s chapped lips. Wait, what am I doing? Richie thought urgently, remembering the boy at home, probably puffing on his aspirator and waiting for Richie to call anxiously.

He broke away from Stan and tore himself off of him, standing up. “Holy fuck! This is bad. This is really bad. We did not just fucking do that shit!” Richie started pacing, his thoughts racing and not slowing down anytime soon.

Stan stood up and put his arms around Richie, causing him to recoil at Stanley’s gentle touch. “Hey,” He said softly. “It’s okay.”

Richie looked him in the eyes, as if for confirmation that he wasn’t the world’s biggest asshole at the moment. Somehow, against all the goddamn odds, he found it in Stan’s eyes.

“What Eddie doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

So this continued. For days. For weeks. For months on end. Richie would ditch Eddie at study hall for Stan, finding an empty classroom where he could leave even more hickeys on his neck, which none of the Losers suspected the culprit to even be a boy, let alone Richie. They didn’t ask many questions, they just laughed about it once in a while when a new hickey would appear, which was often.

“We can’t keep doing this,” Richie would breathe between kisses.

“Then why do your lips keep finding their way back to mine?” Stan would smirk back, causing them to lunge into even more hungry kisses.

Richie caught himself smiling between kisses. He never did that with Eddie anymore. Yes, he loved Eddie. He loved Eddie more than anything, that was true. But there was something about Stanley that Richie just couldn’t resist.

He loved it. He loved the rush of almost getting caught, the small flutter in his heart when the Losers mentioned to Stan whoever she was was a lucky girl, or when Eddie asked where Richie had been and Richie makes up some story and Eddie looks as if he almost doesn’t believe him. Richie loved the excitement.

Eddie had noticed something was… off. Something was wrong with his boyfriend, but he couldn’t tell you exactly what it was. Eddie noticed how he stopped meeting him behind the gym during study hall, and how he gave Stan a ride home after school instead of smoking with Beverly after he drove Eddie home. Which was fine, Eddie knew Richie had his own life and was allowed to have friends, and Eddie thought it was great that him and Stan were keeping up their best friendship status. That is, until he knew the truth.

It was a cool April day in Derry, and Richie drove Eddie home today, which made Eddie very happy since it was a seldom occurrence nowadays. Beverly was doing homework in the library with Ben so Richie wasn’t going to smoke today, which made Eddie even happier. All he cared about was making sure Richie was happy and healthy; which made Richie feel like even more of a jackass.

“I’ll call you when I’m done with homework, okay baby?” Richie smiled sweetly, kissing Eddie on the cheek tenderly as Eddie grabbed his things and opened the door to get out of the beaten up car.

“Okay.” Eddie smiled brightly at his boyfriend, the butterflies in his stomach still raging as always when Richie did so much as to touch him.

Richie drove the rest of the way home with a guilty conscience, in complete silence. No, he was not going to do homework. Instead, he was gonna do a little Jewish boy and lie to his boyfriend who loved no one but him. Richie hated himself. But he couldn’t help himself, either.

“Richie!” Stan waved from the lawn, his bike propped up beside him on the grass.

A smile spread across Richie’s face as he turned the car off and ran to embrace Stanley. “C’mon, let’s go inside.”

They plopped down on the couch, their usual place, and began doing what they always do. Stan’s body was on Richie’s, the body heat making sweat drip down Richie’s shoulders. Stan used to think it was gross, but oddly enough, he liked the smell of it. Only when it came from Richie though. But it wasn’t like he’d ever had that with anyone else.

Stan thought maybe he might be in love with Richie Tozier. Which made him anxious. Stanley struggled with anxiety his entire life, as well as depression that popped up when he was about 13, and decided to stay. He didn’t talk about it, but everyone knew about it. Just like everyone knew Eddie was gay before he even hinted at it, or how Beverly was a child of abuse, or even Richie and his parent issues. Stan always wanted to feel wanted, and needed, and loved. Stanley Uris always wanted to belong to someone, and have them kiss away the pain and whisper that it was all gonna be okay.

Meet me in the middle of the day, let me hear you say everything’s okay. Bring me southern kisses from your room. Meet me in the middle of the night, let me hear you say everything’s alright. Let me smell the moon on your perfume… The song echoed in Stan’s head as he felt the other boy’s lips give him confirmation that Stanley was capable of feeling happiness, which he hadn’t previously believed for a long time.

I can and I will be happy, He thought. With Richie.

But no, he couldn’t. Of course not. Because Richie was in love with Eddie, everyone could see how in love they always had been, even before they could see it themselves. Stan was hopelessly falling for Richie, and he knew he couldn’t have him. This isn’t a movie, Stanley. No matter how this ends, it’s gonna be bad. Probably for you.

Eddie thought it was a little weird that Richie didn’t want to do homework together like they always did. He seemed to want to be alone a lot lately, if he wasn’t with Stan. He was worried. Maybe his dad had said something that got to him, or maybe his suicidal thoughts had come back, or maybe he was hurting himself again, or maybe-

“Maybe I’ll just give him a call,” He whispered to himself and the empty kitchen, picking up the phone and dialing the Tozier household.

The ringing of the phone interrupted Stan and Richie, and Stan pulled away for a brief moment. “Let it ring,” Richie whispered seductively, grabbing Stan’s face eagerly and yanking it down to kiss him once more.

Eddie waited until he couldn’t just let it go on anymore and sighed to himself. Worrying was what Eddie Kaspbrak did best, and of course he was worried about Richie. He decided to pack up his school bag and head over to Richie’s anyway, maybe he’d be able to study with him a little.

Richie and Stan continued on the couch, unbothered. Richie had torn Stan’s shirt off, a little too eagerly, Stan thought, and Richie was down to his boxers. They didn’t think twice about Stan’s bike plainly left on the front lawn, nor about the door being unlocked. Until Eddie walked in.

“R-Richie? Stan?” Eddie’s incredulous voice rose from the silence.

The boys broke apart instantaneously, Stan shooting up so fast it made his head spin. Richie ran up to Eddie, who backed away from him. “Eddie! It’s not-”

“Not what it looks like?” Eddie finished for him. Hot tears welled up in his eyes now and threatened to stream down his face. “Of course it’s what it fucking looks like! Of course it is, Richie!” He turned to Stan, mortified. “And you, Stan? I thought we were friends!”

“We are friends, Eddie!” Stan’s voice cracked as he rushed to put his shirt back on.

“No! Friends don’t fucking do this to each other!” He finally broke, falling to the floor on his knees and covering his face in his hands as he sobbed. “How long?” He spat out in a defeated voice.

“What?” Richie whimpered, tears rolling down his face as well.

“How fucking long, Richie? How long have you been fucking him?” Eddie screamed, his face turning redder by the second.

The two boys stayed silent as Eddie wept. There was nothing to say. They all knew the unspoken answer, clear as day. Eddie just had never dreamed that’s what they spent all their time together doing. Because Richie would never hurt him; no, not his Richie.

“I don’t even know who you are, anymore.” Eddie regained his breath solidly and stood up, pointing an angry finger at Richie. “You’re not the fucking person I fell in love with. Not even fucking close.”

Richie gulped audibly, trying to come up with anything to say. All Richie knew was that now was not a time for jokes. “I-I’m sor-” He started, his voice cracking.

“You’re sorry?” Eddie huffed. “Sorry? You just broke my fucking heart, Richie! Just fucking smashed it to pieces!” Eddie began to cry again, and Richie inched closer to put his arm around him.

Eddie smacked his arm away. “No!” He shrieked, tears overflowing his tear ducts and dropping generously to the floor. “Do not fucking touch me!”

“But Eddie, I love you!” Richie shouted, lunging forward to pull Eddie into a hug.

Eddie then did the very thing he swore he’d never do. He slapped Richie Tozier straight across the face, and the three gasped as they heard the sickening smack that echoed throughout the empty house. Richie clutched his now burning red cheek with his hand, and Eddie leaned down to whisper, “Yeah, I used to love you too, Trashmouth.”

With that, Eddie was gone.