#and it's always fun to draw eddie as a hot piece of ass

[worri-wort]

Sketch of Riddler!! I can’t wait to colour this piece (after i finish all my other sketches heh)╰ (´▽`) ╯

[eddieeatsass]

don’t take me for granted - detnarg rof em ekat t'nod

Summary: Eddie decides to have a little fun at Richie's expense, and uses Bill to fulfill his plan. But of course what fun would it be if Richie wasn't there to watch? Pairing: Reddie/Kaspbrough Rating: E Warnings: Smut, explicit language, threats of violence, alcohol

Read on AO3 Read the rest of the Dark Mirror Verse series

“Another round of shots?” Beverly asked the room, already pouring the alcohol before anyone agreed.

“If I drink any more, I’m gonna puke.” Ben protested, holding his bloated belly before belching obscenely loud.

“Puke in my living room and I’ll cut your dick off.” Eddie warned with narrowed eyes.

The rest of the group accepted the shots Beverly handed out, and after an enthusiastic countdown from the pink-cheeked redhead, they were all throwing back the cheap liquor.

“To Bill!” Beverly cheered, raising her hands up in the air and letting her body fall sideways into the aforementioned man.

“Why are we celebrating Bill when we’re the ones who busted him out? Without us he’d still be holed up in a cell, nothing but a prison bitch for some guy named... Donnie, or something.” Richie waved his hand as he picked a name at random.

“His name was Robert, actually, and he was a very tender lover. Well, except for that time he held a shiv to my throat and fucked me raw in the shower. But that was only the first time. After I agreed to be his go-to, the guy was a total sweetheart.”

All eyes were on Bill, wide and unsure, until Beverly began laughing, then everyone joined in, shaking their heads at the absurdity of the situation.

“Of course you were someone’s bitch.” Stan mumbled into his beer can before taking a sip.

“You’re just jealous because I’m not your bitch.” Bill griped.

“Try being my bitch for one night, I dare you. You wouldn’t come out of it alive, pussy boy.” Stan challenged, a glint in his eye.

The rest of the night went on just like that: binge drinking, thinly veiled sexual tension, and hurling harmless insults back and forth. It was when Beverly and Ben headed home together, intentions evident in the way she laid her body into his, that things started to heat up.

“I think we’re gonna hit the sack too.” Mike announced, Stan in tow as they made their way towards the front door. Mike’s muscles bulged under his shirt as he held Stan’s weight up easily.

“Goodnight fuckerssssss.” Stan slurred, having clearly hit his alcohol limit three drinks ago. Stan was notorious for having a stomach of steel, or rather, kidneys of steel. He was like a cat, 9 lives and counting, so there was never a need to be worried about his intoxication level. Stanley was unstoppable, and never wasted an opportunity to remind those around him.

“Try to get him home in one piece, Hanlon.” Bill shot over his shoulder, taking another sip of the beer he was nursing and washing down the bitter taste with a bite of pizza. God he’d missed pizza in prison.

“Can we take your motorcycle?” Stan asked eagerly as Mike shrugged Stan’s coat over his loose limbs.

“It’s like dressing a toddler.” Mike grumbled to the rest of the room, ignoring Stan’s question as he tried to get Stan’s feet into his shoes next.

“Mike! Buddy! Motorcycle!” Stan insisted, kicking off the shoe Mike had just gotten on.

“You little shit.” Mike hiked Stan over his shoulder, forsaking his shoes entirely in favor of shutting him up.

Stan’s whiny voice continued to echo into the distance as they disappeared through the front door and down their apartment hall. The last thing they heard before the door closed was Mike's booming voice, promising Stan they would take the motorcycle out tomorrow.

“What a mess.” Eddie scoffed with light laughter, twirling a pair of handcuffs around his finger. When they’d broken Bill out earlier that night, Eddie had managed to swipe the pair of handcuffs right off one of the guard’s belts. A little consolation prize for all the hassle they had to go through to get Bill’s dumb ass free.

“At least he’s a hot mess.” Bill commented, slouching down the couch just a bit more.

“I’ll drink to that.” Eddie agreed, finishing off his beer and slamming it down on the coffee table.

“You think anyone with a dick is hot.” Richie shoved Eddie’s leg with his toe, causing him to teeter into Bill’s chest, where he stayed.

“Not just anyone with a dick. Anyone with a nice dick.” Eddie corrected.

“And Stan ticks off that box.” Bill agreed.

“It’s not that nice.” Richie grumbled, jealousy seething from the fine lines of his furrowed brow.

“Awe, is someone jealous?” Eddie mimicked an empathetic tone, jutting his bottom lip out in a false pout.

“Please,” Richie huffed. “To be jealous I’d have to care about you.”

It sounded harsh, but Eddie knew Richie was just putting on a bravado to save face. Richie had an ego the size of his dick, and anytime something threatened to crush it, Richie went into fight mode. But knowing the cause of action didn’t make Eddie any less inclined to test how far he could stretch Richie’s blatant lie.

Eddie crawled across the sectional couch, stopping in front of Richie who was sat right at the end.

“You don’t care about me?” Eddie asked, continuing his routine of fake dejection.

Richie searched Eddie’s face, trying to figure out what his boyfriend was up to.

“What, you suddenly go soft on me, Kaspbrak?”

“Well, I just wanted to double check before I fuck Bill over there.”

As Richie’s face hardened, Eddie was quick to handcuff his wrist to one of the exposed pipes jutting out from their wall, and dart away before Richie was able to grab him.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?” Richie shouted, causing both Eddie and Bill to burst into laughter.

“I SWEAR TO GOD ONCE I GET MY HANDS ON YOU YOU’RE DEAD, KID.” Richie threatened, glaring daggers at Eddie, who just slithered farther away from him.

Bill, who had been too distracted to hear Eddie’s plan, was surprised when the spitfire saddled up on his lap. But once Eddie leaned in and whispered his scheme, Bill was more than eager to comply.

“I thought you didn’t care who I slept with.” Eddie mused, beginning to grind against Bill’s lap lazily.

“I fucking don’t, but at least uncuff me so I don’t have to watch your bodies smack together in ungodly ways.”

Eddie just ignored him, turning his attention back to Bill’s half lidded eyes.

“Why don’t you tell Richie what you’re gonna do to me, huh Bill?” Eddie giggled as he began to kiss down the column of Bill’s neck.

Bill wasted no time reaching his arms around Eddie and grabbing his ass with both hands, kneading it indulgently.

“I’m gonna fuck this tight little ass of yours.” Bill stated simply, shooting a feral grin Richie’s way. Bill had always been unhinged, but when someone dangled meat in front of him he lost all common sense.

“It’s anything but tight.” Richie shot back. “He’s nothing but a loosened up fuck-hole, good luck getting any pleasure out of him.”

Richie was playing right into Eddie’s hands, the degradation causing him to grow tight in his pants.

Eddie grabbed Bill’s face roughly, connecting their lips in a messy show of dominance. Make no mistake, Eddie was the one in charge here; he was pulling both men’s strings tight enough to leave marks.

Eddie could hear muttered swears accompanying the clanging of metal as Richie tried to break free. He made sure to swirl his tongue along with the rhythm of his hips, stirring up Bill’s insides until he was humping up into Eddie’s small body.

When Eddie pulled away, a string of saliva spread thin between their lips, snapping at the last moment and leaving Eddie’s chin wet and messy.

Eddie stripped off his t-shirt, grinning wickedly as Bill followed suit and their bare torsos reconnected as he was pulled in close.

Eddie had seen Bill’s tattoos numerous times, but never this close up. He traced them delicately with his fingers, admiring the variations in tone between the older and newer ink. He followed the lines on Bill’s chest piece, a black and white bat with wings that spread across the tops of his pecks. Its face was mangled, mutated in a way that wasn’t distinctive but still left you feeling uneasy. It was a beautiful piece. Eddie had been there when Bill had first gotten it done, but now he was able to admire it from a whole new perspective.

Eddie ducked his head down, placing a kiss to each of the bat’s wings, before moving his attention to Bill’s nipples. They were pierced with simple silver barbells, small treasures that increased sensation in the area. Eddie was very familiar with them.

Eddie hovered above one, looking up through his long lashes to gauge Bill’s reaction as he flicked his tongue out and gently licked at the bud. The response was a loud groan, maybe exaggerated for Richie’s benefit, but satisfying nonetheless.

“You stupid slut.” Richie spat, only adding to the arousal Eddie already had building up. He looked over his shoulder innocently, locking eyes with Richie as he stuck his thumbs into the waistband of his pants and slowly pulled the fabric down to expose his ass.

Fire engulfed Richie’s eyes and he violently pulled against his restraints, looking at Eddie’s ass, his property, sitting atop Bill Denbrough’s lap.

It didn’t take long before Bill’s hands wandered down to the divots in Eddie’s lower back, tracing them with sharp nails that left scratches in their wake. Eddie arched into the touch, moaning loudly at the feeling of being marked. Bill’s fingers drifted further down, finding Eddie’s puckered hole ready for the taking, as they circled it teasingly.

“Don’t draw it out, just fuck me Denbrough.” Eddie demanded, tugging hard enough on Bill’s hair that it forced his head back.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Bill agreed, making quick work of unzipping his pants and pulling out his painfully hard cock.

“Should I tell you twice how much it’s gonna hurt when I CUT OFF YOUR FUCKING DICK!?” Richie shouted.

“Shhhh Richie, calm down. Sharing is caring, right?” For the first time since this all started, Bill looked past Eddie to regard Richie. He was red in the face, a vein Bill had never seen before popping out on his forehead. It was a beautiful sight, a complete loss of power. Bill almost had half a mind to take advantage of Richie’s bound state himself, but he’d rather wait for a time when Richie willingly submitted to him. Now that would be a sight to behold. Maybe he could have both of them at the same time, even.

Eddie’s impatient whine brought Bill back from his fantasies, directing his attention to where Eddie had maneuvered himself closer to Bill’s cock.

“You want it dry, dirty slut?” Bill taunted, watching the way Eddie’s cock twitched in response. Bill chuckled darkly, the black of his eyes growing as he roughly pulled Eddie’s pants and boxers the rest of the way off, leaving him completely nude and completely exposed to whatever abuse Bill had in store for him.

“I’m gonna make you bleed.” Bill whispered into Eddie’s ear, noticing how the smaller boy shivered.

Bill’s only prep was a glob of saliva he let drip down from his mouth to his cock, coating it in a slicked sheen that would do little to actually help Eddie’s discomfort. Then he was lining himself up with Eddie’s entrance and forcefully pushing himself in.

Eddie screamed, raw and wanton, a masochistic grin overtaking his features as he was split in half on Bill’s cock. It was thicker than Richie’s, not quite as long, but it still managed to fill Eddie up.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH, FUCKING BASTARD LOWLIFE- I’M GONNA RUIN YOUR FUCKING LIFE YOU FUCKING-”

Richie’s yelling was like music to their ears, because deep down they all knew Richie was loving this. It was the same sick pleasure he got when Eddie managed to get Richie in a submissive state. He struggled with an  internal battle of not wanting to let go of control, but knowing that loss of power felt so so good. One glance over their shoulders confirmed that Richie was in fact straining against his pants, trying to hide his subtle grinding up against the seam of his jeans.

Eddie’s thighs were already quivering, clenching around Bill’s own as he slowly lifted himself up and clenched back down the thick shaft. His breathing was heavy, sweat beginning to break out on his body as he struggled to take the intrusion.

But the burn felt good, and soon it started feeling really good, and eventually Eddie found himself losing his composure completely.

“Fuck, no wonder they call you big Bill.” Eddie said unabashedly. He heard Richie scoff behind him.

“Oh come ON.” Richie groaned. Eddie could practically picture him rolling his eyes.

Bill’s face was flushed, his mouth hanging open as he panted along with Eddie. His hair was tousled from Eddie’s ministrations, and his pupils had eclipsed his eyes, leaving nothing but a thin ring of blue keeping him from looking inhuman. He looked hotter than Eddie had ever seen him look before, but that could be attributed to the fact that his cock was in Eddie’s ass at that moment.

“Your cock sleeve is fitting me nicely.” Bill said to Richie, shooting him a wink along with a wicked grin.

“FUCK you.” Richie snapped.

Eddie’s head began swirling with the familiar fog that usually came before he hit his peak. Looking over his shoulder, he zoned in on Richie.

“He feels so good, Rich.” Eddie moaned, his eyes beginning to roll back in his head as Bill thrust up into his prostate head on.

“Anything would feel good to you, you fucking tramp.” Richie seethed.

Eddie glanced back down to Richie’s lap, smirking knowingly.

“You like watching me get fucked, don’t you Richie?”

Richie was completely quiet, but Eddie could see his jaw clenching like a vice grip.

“Yeah, he does.” Bill supplied. “Fucking cuck.”

“BILL YOU FUCKING SON OF A BITCH I’M GOING TO SLIT YOUR FUCKING THROAT.” Richie shot forward, his restraints finally giving out. Things moved in a flurry after that. Within a few quick moves Richie grabbed one of the switchblades they had under the coffee table, pushed Eddie off, and pinned Bill to the ground with a blade to his neck.

He could hear Eddie complaining behind him but drowned him out, hyper focused on the man before him. The knife dug into Bill’s neck where Richie held it with brute force, bobbing against Bill’s skin every time his laughter caused his Adam’s apple to move.

That laughter, unrestrained and maniacal, was the laughter of someone a little too unhinged.

“Do it, come on pussy, fucking do it!” Bill began pushing himself forward, causing the knife to breach his skin.

Richie searched his face, trying to find a logical reason why he couldn’t end Bill’s life the way he had countless others. The answer wasn’t conscious, it was a feeling low in his gut, one that made him uneasy and frankly a little bit queasy. It was something he felt for all his friends, the reason he continued to bail them out of their problems, sit with them through their miseries, seek out to destroy the people who hurt them. And as much as Bill had pissed him off, he was still a part of that very small circle of people that Richie would kill for, but could not kill.

Pulling the blade away, Richie spat in Bill’s face. Sneering down at him as the anger simmered in his belly.

“You’re not worth it.” He gritted out.

Suddenly, Richie felt a warm sensation beneath his thigh, which he had been using to pin Bill down. He moved off of his friend, stumbling back a few steps as he gazed down at the mess Bill had made.

“Did you fucking cum on me, bitch!?” Richie growled, instantly rethinking his choice to let Bill live.

Bill just laughed once again, the noise joined by another chuckle from behind Richie.

He turned slowly to address his boyfriend, who was fanning the fire with every giggle he supplied.

Richie reached forward, grabbing a fistful of Eddie’s hair and forcing him to his knees violently enough that they’d be bruised tomorrow.

“Clean up the mess your dog made, you useless slut.”

Richie pushed Eddie’s face against his thigh, rubbing his face in the cum that dripped down towards his knee. Eddie obeyed, opening his mouth and sticking his tongue out, licking as much as he could while Richie maneuvered his head aggressively. When Richie decided it was clean enough he tugged Eddie back up roughly.

“Don’t ever do that again. Next time, I won’t let them live.” Richie warned.

“I’ll make sure it’s not someone we know, then.” Eddie challenged. “But… it kinda seems like you liked it.” Eddie eyed the damp spot on Richie’s pants, the one that wasn’t left behind by Bill. "Everyone got to finish but me." He added as a last thought, pouting for real this time.

“Don't worry, when I'm done with you you'll be so oversensitive even breathing will hurt.” Richie pulled Eddie towards the hallway, the strong grip on his hair still acting as a rein.

“Thanks Eddie, real good work kid, let’s do it again sometime!” Bill shouted towards their disappearing figures. Before Richie was entirely out of sight, he chucked his knife through the air with expert precision, landing it right beside Bill’s head. It stuck into the wood flooring at a 90 degree angle, cutting off a few inches of Bill’s hair in the process.

“Next time I won’t miss.” Richie growled.

That night, Eddie learned two things. Firstly, Bill was a good fuck. He wasn’t Richie… but he was a pretty good substitute. And secondly, riling Richie up resulted in the best sex he’d ever had. So in conclusion, this would not be the last time Eddie pulled the strings.

[beepbeep-losers]

Halloween prompt 1. With denreddie but where Eddie and Richie start hauling the candy out the window at the kids and bill has to try and not kill them

LOVE YOU HOPE YOU ENJOY 😘❤️

it’s a super fluffy 879 words

Send me a ship and a Halloween prompt from this list!

Bill has learned to tune out the general ruckus that follows Eddie and Richie. Living with them, he’s had to learn to master the art of selective hearing just so he can get any writing done…ever. Not that he doesn’t love his boyfriends, it’s honestly a survival mechanism. Not to mention, if he gets involved he has to play mediator, which is never the best when they both know how to vie for his favor. Because he’s been pretty well desensitized to it, Bill doesn’t even bat an eye when Richie’s cackles and Eddie’s yells travel through the house.

He’s putting on the final pieces of his Halloween costume. Eddie and (surprisingly) Richie had beaten him getting ready and are manning the front door. This is the first Halloween they’re spending in an actual neighborhood instead of in the dorms or in an apartment building. They’re out of college now, except for Eddie who has only two more classes that he is finishing up. They’re renting a house in a cute neighborhood that their landlord had told them always has trick or treaters.

They had been ecstatic.

In result, they had bought enough candy to fill three giant bowls.

Bill has been missing at least the first hour of what he imagines to be an outpouring of children in the streets, though, because he’s trying to make his costume perfect and he’d forgot to put the damn holes in the sweater and he keeps putting on more and more red eyeshadow around his eyes because damn it all if he won’t look amazing. Beverly had spent three full hours a few days ago teaching him how to play with makeup enough to pull off Freddy Krueger’s iconic look. He’s glad he has some experience in mediocre painting and drawing that he can relate it to the makeup. They’re going to a Halloween party after the trick or treaters disperse and he’s determined to impress.

When he finally feels satisfied, Bill gets up and heads for the living room, leaving all of the makeup scattered on the bathroom counter. As he nears the living room he slows down, hearing Richie and Eddie squabble.

“FIVE POINTS FAH FREDDIE!” Richie hollers, and Bill raises his eyebrows at the scene he’s walking in on. Richie pumps his fist in the air and dances around.

Richie is dressed as Freddie Mercury, and Eddie as Fred from Scooby Doo. They both look amazing – Bill had seen their costumes and gushed over them between getting ready. What’s new is that they each have a bowl of candy tucked under one arm and the door is propped open with a chair that hosts the final bowl. Eddie has a few pieces of candy in his fist and a defiant look as he opens his mouth to shout back at Richie.

“FIVE POINTS MY ASS YOU COMPLETELY MISSED HIM,” Eddie argues, and Richie just brushes him off, reaches back into his bowl, and –

Oh so that’s what they’re doing.

Bill’s mouth actually drops open as he realizes that his boyfriends are throwing candy at children. He watches as a mini Snickers bar leaves Richie’s hand and flies straight for a kid with a store-bought witch costume. It thumps the kid in the shoulder, and they turn an annoyed face to their door, but pick up the candy and stuff it into their plastic cauldron anyway.

“What the fuck?” Bill asks, and Eddie spins around to look at him. Richie is more casual, yelling something about lightening up at the kid before he turns.

“Ayeee, Big Bill – don’t you look hot for a fucking murderous psycho?” Richie croons at him, striding forward to bump shoulders with him and kiss his head. Bill just stares.

“Why are you throwing candy at k-kids?”

At the same time, Richie and Eddie draw deep breaths and start talking over each other.

“These little hooligans-“

“Nobody was coming at all Billy and-“

“No respect for craftsmanship-“

“Richie scared half of them that did! Or maybe it was your decorations –“

“ME? You chewed out that mom for ten minutes because her kid was-“

“It was a racist costume Richie I’ll fucking chew her out again too!”

“Yeah well say goodbye to any willing trick or treaters –“

“Throwing the candy is actually pretty fun.”

Bill holds up his hand and they both stop, waiting for his response. He’s standing in front of them, looking puzzled and exasperated and amused all at once, in full Freddy Krueger get-up. “So you scared them off and you told off a mom for letting her kid wear a racist costume?” he asks, pointing to Richie and Eddie in turn. They nod at him. “And nob-body would come to the door after that?” Nods again. “And there are…points?” He can already guess this one, but Richie confirms in a spirited imitation of Moaning Myrtle from Harry Potter.

“Ten points if it goes through ‘er STOMACH! Fifty points if it goes through ‘er HEAD!”

Eddie giggles despite himself, and Bill cracks a grin. Christ, he thinks. We’re going to get arrested for throwing candy at children. He rolls his eyes and pushes gently past them. He grabs the remaining bowl.

“Come on, you fucking losers. You know I’ll swamp you.”

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[andaleduardo]

Rooftop N.2

 Ao3   N.1   N.3

Preview:  “Are you fucking drunk?!” The stage whispers sharp while Eddie’s eyebrows raised high on his forehead.

“I am fucking drunk.” Richie sighed out. “Now help me!”

Monday   26.04.1993

Loneliness sucks. It fucking sucks and Richie doesn’t get it. He can’t wrap his head around as to why he was feeling the loneliest man in the world if he was surrounded by his most loved friends. 

As soon as the losers sat at a table on the canteen, Richie devoured his lunch. He was always eating at school, the vending machine being his first stop every morning.

“That’s n-no breakfast, R-richie.” “Never said it was, Mom." 

 Sometimes, he takes out candy bars in the middle of his classes and the wrapper is always too noisy for the occasion. "Do you really need to eat in Maths, Richie?” “Well, Stan. Gotta eat when I’m bored, ya know?”

 And all those countless times he takes a bite out of Eddie’s sandwich. Which of course leaves the poor boy disgusted enough to give up on eating it and just handing it over to Richie. 

 They used to question him about it, why did he eat so much? Was that amount of food even healthy? But seeing as he didn’t put on any weight, they dropped it. And maybe because some of them started joining the pieces together and figured he wasn’t eating enough at home. Beverly was one of those people, who noticed and started contesting with anyone who would comment on Richie’s eating habits. She was always a step ahead.

So, as he was eating his lunch, no one cared anymore about the amount on his plate, or if he repeated afterwards, or maybe stole someone’s dessert. No, they knew better than to mention it. At first, Richie was self-conscious about it. Ever since his parents stopped acting like ones, he tried cooking, which didn’t really work if no one bought groceries regularly. So he would convince himself it was okay to eat freely around his friends, until it was. 

A couple seats from him, Eddie sat, stabbing his food with a fork and drawing patterns on the mashed potatoes. It had been a week since Richie and him met that night, and it fed on his belief that he was missing out on something. 

Does Richie usually go out at night? Do his friends go out at night besides the regular high school parties? Maybe they do.

‘I mean, we’re 17. I can’t blame them.’ Eddie spoke to himself while finally eating some of his lunch.

He couldn’t help but judge himself for being so neat all the time. Bed by 11 p.m. on school nights, no such thing as getting drunk, or skipping classes. That was the right thing to do, right? He was overthinking, again. 

Eddie simply felt alive as he stepped out of his window while his mother was in the next room. Ashamed for feeling that way, he fought the urge to shake his head in shame. Maybe his friends were right about him when they’d say he was too uptight.

Fuck, even Stan and Ben have more fun than he does. They let themselves be dragged by the losers to those pointless parties or to drink beer when they’d have a sleepover. Eddie always skipped those, the parties and the beers, not the sleepovers.

Maybe it was the adrenaline. Maybe it was the way the night felt on his skin.

(Maybe it was Richie.)

Whatever it was, he really wanted to feel it again. A tiny pinch of freedom, the tinniest 'fuck you, Sonia’ that made it to his head as he did all the nice things he was supposed to do and still get denied if he asked to go out sometimes.

“Eddie, you still with us?” Eddie lifted his head to find Mike awaiting an answer along with five other pairs of eyes on him.

“No, sorry. Got in the mashed potatoes.”

Beverly spoke up. “We are planning on going to Bill’s after school to study and hang for a bit.”

Richie noticed the way Eddie’s eyes lit up just to fall again almost instantly. “Yeah, sure, but I’ll have to ask my mom first.”

Lunch carried on, and when Richie’s eyes met Eddie’s, they both smiled knowingly and sadly.

 -

 The water was scalding against Eddie’s skin, a failed attempt to keep his mind occupied with something. Something other than his emotions. It was a task that was becoming harder by the day, after two years of doing it. Since he was fifteen, he realized, he had been pushing down thoughts and feelings and something about Richie.

He turned the hot water tap further.

It’s wrong.

His skin was reddening under the overwhelming heat.

Stop.

Thinking.

The steam filled the bathroom slowly, making the air denser and harder to inhale. Eddie gave in to his rationality, finally setting the water to a normal, warm temperature. The way it felt hitting his tingling skin made him gasp, the sound echoing through the bathroom tiles. He closed his eyes shut and obliged his mind to change his trail of thoughts by starting to shampoo his hair and thinking back to the last hours of his afternoon.

 When his last class of the day ended, he went along with the rest of the group to Bill’s house. It was the best option calling his mother from there, she would give it less thought since he was already in the location.

Once that was out of the way and they prepared a variety of snacks for their planned study session, the attic of the Denbrough’s house was filled with teenagers and textbooks sprawled on the old couch and a couple of beanbags and the floor.

It had been going fairly well, silence was prominent with some whispered conversations about the school subjects being studied.

 Just a peaceful time. Eddie, his beanbag, his philosophy textbook, a pencil in hand and Richie’s death weight colliding with the beanbag. Before Eddie noticed his body was being projected upwards, the textbook falling with a loud thud on the ground while the pencil went rolling on the hardwood floors. Eddie himself fell on his ass just three inches away from the cushioned seat.

That alone was enough to set him off on a bad mood, but then he had to deal with Richie’s exaggerated laugh and share the too-small-for-two seat with him.

The frustration built inside him only to grow more and more as the afternoon passed. Having Richie’s body pressed flush to his side was not a comfortable way to study whatsoever, but it sure was a good way of fading reality and focus on every inch of him he could feel, specially when Eddie was pretending to read the same paragraph over and over and Richie wasn’t doing the same by any means. Eddie was leaning slightly forwards while Richie set his elbow behind him, curling sideways around Eddie’s torso and breathing shallow warm breaths on the exposed skin of Eddie’s neck.

Eddie couldn’t tell if he was doing it on purpose or not, but he vacantly ignored it. Well, he faked to ignore it. It looked just like he was emerged in philosophy but he was way too deep in the way Richie felt. Whether it was their legs flushed together, or their hips joined by the sides, or Richie’s upper body minimally close to Eddie’s back, or of course, the warm breathing making goose bumps on his skin and the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

Maybe Richie noticed, maybe not. But he didn’t mention it or teased him about it, just like none of his friends reacted to their closeness.

Eddie was going mad thinking he was the only one bothered by it.

That would have been enough to take him where he is now, but life was making sure he got the message. These studying sessions tended to end in everything else other than actually being productive. It was only expected that after ten minutes of internalized panic from Eddie’s part, everyone started off on different topics of conversations. The books and homework were put aside when they agreed to play a random party game, Eddie was thankful to have an excuse to move as they settled on the floor in a circle.

Thankful that is, until they agreed to play Paranoia.

The game is simple. Everyone sits in a circle, the first person starts by whispering a question to the person sitting on their side, the answer is given out loud. Then a coin is flipped, if it lands on head, the asker has to repeat the question out loud for the whole group, if it lands on tail the question remains unspoken and the players only know the answer.

Eddie had to deal with stupid questions whispered in his ear, which was bad enough. But then he had to try to contain his blush when Richie looked him up and down and bit his lip while Bev asked him a question, to which he answered “Eddie”.

He bit his fucking lip and answered Eddie. What the well did Bev ask?

The stupid coin landed on tail.

Eddie decided that the name Paranoia was appropriate.

He arrived home half an hour ago, his homework yet to be done. His attempt to distract his mind and shower was not very well thought.

He wondered what Bev whispered to Richie that made him answer his name. He thought back to heat growing inside him when he felt Richie’s eyes checking him from head to toe, and what that could possibly mean. In the middle of the condensed air emerging from the water, he could almost feel it again. The hot breaths coming from Richie’s parted lips so close to his neck.

A shiver ran up on the spot.

What if Richie bit him there as forcefully as he bites his own lip? What would it feel like if Richie had whispered his name that way? Against his skin in heavy sighs?

He inched a hand further down his body.

Wrong.

He took himself in his fist, eager to move and erase the built up tension from the last days.

So wrong.

His heavy breaths filled the bathroom, luckily covered by the distinct water sounds.

This shouldn’t happen.

But those thoughts couldn’t keep him from doing it, only make him regret it as soon as he was finished and had to scrub his skin clean. Like many other times over the last two years.

He turned off the faucet and covered his face with a freshly washed and softened towel.

Two years.

What a waste of time.

   Eddie joined his mother at the kitchen table 10 minutes afterwards and sat across from her. They talked throughout dinner about school, medication and plans for the week ahead. Eddie’s mind was out of it for obvious reasons, his focus point being the shame that roots inside his ribcage. He nods along the conversations and adds some words to it, enough to keep it going.

When he is asked about the evening he spent with his friends, Eddie answers automatically that it was very productive in studying terms. His mother seems satisfied and changes the subject, asking if Eddie wouldn’t blow-dry his hair before bed, as he always does. He says he didn’t have time after showering, but that she didn’t have to worry about him getting the pillow wet.

She claims it is unsanitary.

Eddie ignored her and excused himself out of the table, after all, he still had homework to finish due tomorrow. Once he was settled in his room in front of his textbooks, he focused on getting everything done. It was early, there was still plenty of time.

 -

   Eddie was halfway through a sociology assignment when he heard a alarming noise coming from his backyard.

His eyes bugged open and he stared motionless at his window for what felt like an eternity, with a heart that was trying to burst through his chest along with a mind wild with thoughts and possibilities.

Not tonight, please not tonight. Not after … that.

 It was only until continuous banging and hitting started that he practically flew to his window and threw it open. He stuck his head out just in time to see Richie with his arms over the roof tiles, attempting to throw his leg up as well.

With an audible gulp, Eddie groaned internally and whispered “What the hell?”

Richie finally noticed Eddie’s presence and smiled groggily. His voice dragged. “Oh hey, Eds!”

Squinting his eyes at him, Eddie noticed the flush on his cheeks. “Could you be any louder?” he paused to catch his breath. Why was he out of breath? “What’s with the noise?”

Richie stammered and struggled through his words. “Your trashcan’s putting on a fight.” He pouted. “The fucking bastard.”

Eddie could not believe his eyes and ears as Richie continued to insult the trashcan underneath his feet, trying to get his leg up on the roof and failing multiple times.

“Could you move your pretty ass and maybe help me instead of staring?” He struggled with balancing himself on the wastebin, then laughed at himself. The pieces joined.

“Are you fucking drunk?!” The stage whispers sharp while Eddie’s eyebrows raised high on his forehead.

“I am fucking drunk.” Richie sighed out. “Now help me!”

Eddie didn’t think his eyes could bulge any further or his heart could beat any harder in his ears right now.

He run the options over in his head. His hair wasn’t dry yet, if he got out he would surely get a cold. But what was worse? Getting a runny nose? Or getting a drunk (and loud) Richie inside his bedroom only to have his mom find them and do God knows what? The former seemed less scary.

All Eddie wanted was a good study night and time to submerge in unhealthy thoughts.

  He quickly rushed to his bedroom door and locked it from the inside, just in case. Then, he got out of the window and cautiously approached Richie, who had finally managed to get his leg on the side of the roof. Eddie pulled him by his forearms, afraid that they’d both roll out to the grass below. After crawling back near the window and far from the edge, Eddie realised how much it stung to see Richie in this state. He didn’t want him to destroy himself like that. Alcohol, to Eddie’s eyes, was just another way of self-destruction.

“Why are you drunk, Richie?”

Richie grabbed Eddie's arm while trying to sit comfortably on the roof. "Uh, because drinking is fun.”

Eddie sighed softly, trying not to sound disappointed.  "What happen-“ Richie gasped loudly.

"Eds, your hair!”’

Startled from the interruption, his hands rushed to touch his hair. “What? What’s wrong?”

“It’s wavy!” Eddie blinked, then snapped. 

“Richie, I swear. For God’s sake-“He inhaled sharply. “No, scratch that. For my sake, lower your damn voice, or my mom will kill us both.”

“But... it’s wavy.” Now with a lower voice, Richie intertwined his hand through Eddie’s hair and ruffled it a bit. “It’s pretty.”

Eddie groaned, defeated. “Don’t touch it, I didn’t have time to blow-dry it into place.”

“Don’t, then. It suits you.” Richie retorted, grinning, while Eddie hid a smile behind his sleeve.

“You are out of your senses.”

Richie didn’t reply and started leaning back to lay down facing the sky but his head collided with the windowsill, “Ow, shit.” and grasped it dramatically.

“Are you okay?” Eddie rushed to check for injuries, but stopped when Richie started laughing, not so loud as he was before. “You’re fucking impossible.”

Richie finally laid down uncomfortably on the roof tiles.

The sky was still pink and orange, the sun setting somewhere behind rows of houses. Eddie was staring worryingly at him but when Richie started humming songs under his breath and playing invisible drums in the air, he gave up on his concern.

Laying down on his back beside his friend, Eddie tried to ignore the shiver that ran up his spine when a breeze caught his humid hair.

  They were staring at the colour shifting sky with Richie’s muffled singing in the background when Eddie felt it again. The rush in his blood, a weight leaving his body. A tiny pinch of ‘being alive it’s worth it for moments like these’. He let a long breath leave his heavy lungs.

 -

   Countless minutes had passed when Richie’s singing faded, which made Eddie look over to him. He saw a tight frown on Richie’s face, eyes were squeezed shut and chin trembling slightly. ‘Well, here it comes.’ He thought to himself. It was true that Richie would easily get emotional while drunk, but Eddie doubted that drinking was what got him upset.   His heart broke at the sight of a tear rolling down Richie’s temple and getting caught on his ear.

“C'mon, Rich…” He nudged his side softly with his knuckles. “What’s going on?” Richie simply squeezed his eyes further, unable to stop himself from shuddering. He struggled through his words, his throat closing.

“Am I a burden?” He finally turned to face him with glimmering eyes.

Whatever was left of Eddie’s heart broke down in that moment. He stared back, shock and concern plastered on his features. “No, Richie. You’re not a burden, why would you think that?” He spoke softly.

"I’m always annoying everyone, right?” Richie gulped through his tightened throat. “Don’t try to deny it. I know it.”

Eddie sighed. “Richie, listen. You’re not a burden. You like to say what’s on your mind, so you do it.” He decided against continuing. “I really appreciate that you do, you know? You’re honest, you’re not afraid to talk, even if it gets you in trouble.” Eddie stared intensively at him, awaiting a reaction, a response.

Richie’s cheeks were stained and wet, another drop rolled down his skin. He was lost in Eddie’s features, both from alcohol and admiration. His eyes darted lower to his lips, and up again, only to find Eddie dazed and flushed. He sniffed. It was hard to concentrate.

 “Do you mean that?” When Eddie nodded, he continued, his voice low and the sky darkening above them. “For real? Even when I can’t stop the mom jokes?”

“Let’s not go that far.” Eddie smirked. “You’re a trashmouth, yeah, but I envy you for being brave to speak up for yourself, and for others.”

When Eddie thought the mood was finally getting lighter, Richie started crying compulsively. “I’m so sorry Eds.” He trembled. “You are so nice to me, and I come here so late, and you still put up with my shit. And now I’m fucking crying and I don’t know why. Look at all the crap I make you go thr-”

“No, Richie, stop that.” Eddie was trying not to lose his temper at the same time as trying to lift Richie’s mood. “I like it that you come here, I like it that you climb the side of my house and that we can sit out here, I do. You’re not annoying me. If anything, I should thank you for bringing something fun to my neutral house life.” He rushed through his words so that Richie wouldn’t interrupt him to cry harder. “C'mon, Richie.. Stop crying, no need for that, yeah?”

“Okay..” Richie snuffled again and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. Eddie cringed.

He still stared at him fondly when Richie took off his tear stained and fogged glasses to clean them on the hem of his shirt, which wasn’t really helping. Eddie couldn’t help but stare at the way his eyelashes glued to each other, giving Richie an even sweeter vibe.

“Here, let me.” He took the glasses out of Richie’s cold hands and fogged them up with his breath. His cotton shirt doing a way better job at cleaning the tick lenses.

“...Eds.”

“Hm?” He replied while cleaning the glasses. Nickname ignored.

“Maybe I could come more often, just like old times. Get you out of your misery.”

'Can he get more contradictory?’ Eddie thought to himself. After all, Richie was blaming himself for coming over two minutes ago.

“Sure Richie, you could come more often.” He finally handed the glass frames over to him. “Just like old times.”

Richie placed them on his face, his eyes enlarging. “Mondays fine?”

“Why Mondays?”

“Cause Mondays suck, but then they wouldn’t anymore.”

Oh.

“Yeah.. on Mondays, that’s fine.”

They kept quiet for a few seconds before Richie spoke up again.

"Eds."

"What?"

"...Your hair's really pretty like that." Eddie had to force an eye roll out of him so that he seemed annoyed by the compliment.

In the end, he did end up getting a runny nose and back aches from the tiles digging on his muscles, but none of that mattered.

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