#bill writing words he made up with richie in his books as if they are real

[thelosers-club]

headcanon that after hanging out with the losers for so long and connecting with them so hard, the adult losers with their memories gone are still extremely weird to be around because theyre just so used to their weirdness being normal with the people theyre around

[turningsoft]

Richie Tozier & Will Byers Werewolf Metaphor Post

@pinkeoni's old What's up with all the werewolves? post and its further discussion made me think of a lot. Seriously, it's lengthy.

I wanna preface this by saying I don't actually believe everything is connected or intentional, as it would be a huge reach. However, it's rather interesting to draw connections even where there were intended none. Proceed at your own peril.

As we all know, the Duffers originally wanted to write Stephen King's IT remake. Naturally, we also know they took some inspiration from King's various work, so for me it was a really small leap from werewolf references in Stranger Things to Richie's werewolf in IT.

Richie Tozier Was A Teenage Werewolf

In the book, Richie goes to see a horror double-feature, which includes movies I Was a Teenage Werewolf and I Was a Teenage Frankenstein (both 1957). Let's read the excerpt from the novel.

The Teenage Frankenstein was suitably gross. The Teenage Werewolf was somehow scarier, though… perhaps because he also seemed a little sad. What had happened wasn't his own fault. There was this hypnotist who had fucked him up, but the only reason he'd been able to was that the kid who turned into the werewolf was full of anger and bad feelings. Richie found himself wondering if there were many people in the world hiding bad feelings like that. Henry Bowers was just overflowing with bad feelings, but he sure didn't bother hiding them.

Now, this quote contains a lot of information to suggest that Richie at least empathizes with the character, but we don't actually see him relating to Tony until Richie comes face to face with Pennywise — for the first time, or so he thinks. During this encounter, It takes the form of the Teenage Werewolf and chases Bill and Richie out of the house on Neibolt Street. His appearance is described in great detail and mostly doesn't contradict the original movie, except for the werewolf's silk jacket.

It was black with orange piping — the Derry High School colors.

And a bit further on:

It was the other thing that made him feel as if he might faint, or just give up and let it kill him. A name was stitched on the jacket in gold thread, the kind of thing you could get done down at Machen's for a buck if you wanted it. Stitched on the bloody left breast of the Werewolf's jacket, stained but readable, were the words RICHIE TOZIER.

In the movie it's Tony's signature jacket that allows others to recognize him in his werewolf form, so it only makes sense to assume Richie's scared because he's forced to recognize himself in the monster. The implications affect him so deeply that he considers giving up his own life.

Bad feelings

It provides a bit of insight into Richie's head and makes us question what exactly he considers “bad feelings” within himself, if not anger (he doesn't seem to be an angry person). Some speculate it has to do with growing up and becoming an unstable, hormonal teenager in the future. Others link it to his possible undiagnosed ADHD, self-hatred and the ever-present fear of being ostracized for his differences, both visible and not. Being a queer person in the 50's would also fit the narrative pretty well. For those who are interested, I strongly recommend reading expanded analysis on the matter here (werewolf as a symbol in IT), here (bisexuality viewed as “monstrous”) and here (Richie's fears explained).

Not his fault

Obviously, none of the aforementioned reasons justify putting such strong labels (monster, werewolf) on a literal child. Richie seems to understand he's not at fault for whatever makes him a target, but he also believes in a strong possibility someone can inflict this inhuman identity upon him. Despite already being bullied, he fears his situation can take a turn for the worse. And despite having a wonderful support system, he somehow knows it's not enough. If someone or something decides to “fuck him up” and exploit his vulnerable state, they will, so he cuts down on the amount of vulnerability. Heavily. I can't believe I'm still not talking about Will Byers.

Hiding stuff

As ironic as it sounds, Richie Tozier is canonically good at hiding. Other people find it difficult to make up their minds about his personality and actions — the most famous instance being, perhaps, this quote.

He had known Richie Tozier for four years, and he still didn't really understand what Richie was about.

Richie uses his Voices and “numbers” both as a shield and a weapon. He shows raw emotions only when he considers it absolutely safe. He takes “refuge in absurdity”. To reiterate @/jasperathrifteddoll's werewolf symbolism post, Richie 1) is confusing; 2) tells half-truths; 3) puts up facades; 4) “through his concealment of his inner thoughts to the reader, seems almost aware of his status as a book's narrator”.

All of Richie's fears are connected to or based on public perception. “But he knew well enough” has earned a meta post in and of itself.

Will Byers Has Werewolves In His Closet

So what's the meaning behind this werewolf costume in the Trick or Treat, Freak episode? Maybe it's a manifestation of one of Will's fears, or maybe there's no hidden message. After all, even if Stranger Things and IT are connected, I Was A Teenage Werewolf has nothing to do with ST… Unless we consider it left a huge legacy and inspired The Cramps to write a song of the same name — the one that introduced Eddie Munson to the audience in S04E01. Frankly speaking, I don't think this was an easter egg the writers were actively trying to include, but it doesn't take away from the parallel. It's still fun to compare Will and Richie, especially because on a surface level they're so unlike.

To execute Stephen King's werewolf metaphor, one would need:

a character with enough emotional baggage,

who is afraid of being perceived as a monster,

especially as a result of trusting an authority figure,

who breaks his trust and exploits his vulnerable state,

potentially making him dangerous in the process.

Let's see if Will ticks all the boxes.

Bad feelings

Will's otherness is easy to pick up on. It's either “being a sensitive artistic kid who grew up to be gay in the 80's” or “being a child who was abducted to a horrific dimension and is now attached to it”. Arguably, we don't even have to choose: these two plots are closely related and can become one through the AIDS metaphore. Not to mention the whole “growing up poor with an abusive and neglectful father” thing. Simply put, Will Byers has plenty reason to experience “bad feelings”. On a rare occasion, we can hear about his struggles firsthand.

Bad feelings = self-hatred

So far, Will has internalized a variety of epithets:

“Zombie Boy”

“Freak”

“Stupid”

“Mistake”

We can see each of them affect him to some extent.

In season 2, during multiple heart-to-hearts with Jonathan, Will expresses his desire for everyone to stop treating him different, like there's something wrong with him. Meaning, he himself doesn't think there's something wrong. He stubbornly insists: “Yeah, I am. I am [a freak],” but he's quick to be offended when Jonathan agrees. It reads as a defense tactic, not his own opinion. After all, when you pointedly address yourself in a hurtful fashion, shouldn't those words stop holding power over you?

When drawing the Zombie Boy, Will essentially tries to reclaim this identity in a way that's true to him — by using art. He doesn't want to passively accept the label, he wants to strip it of its negative connotations. But then again, when a kid deemed as dead comes back to life, it's a pretty dumb reason to bully him. Will probably knows it's dumb, so he fights back. His homosexuality, though, is a harder pill to swallow.

There's no denying he feels guilty for his attraction to Mike (well, boys, but Mike specifically). Guilty and other things as well, a mixture of shameful, jealous, hurt, confused and angry. In seasons 3 and 4 he learns that even the tiniest portions of his affection and his sincerest attempts at salvaging a friendship can be neglected or misconstrued. It cuts deeply.

Then there's, of course, the van scene. Will says he feels like a mistake sometimes. Not all the time, he clears up. Mike makes him feel better for being different, and yet Will cries after the speech, knowing full well his differences don't make his life any happier or simplier, or better.

Bad feelings = past trauma

Still, all of it pales in comparison to plain old trauma and its prolonged effects. This anon ask and @/heroesbyler's answer have summarized it better than I ever could. Here's a quote that I can't not mention:

His trauma is one of the most if not the most multifaceted in the entire story, and also he literally is the main character foil to the big villain. Saying that Will hates himself for being gay is such a gross oversimplification of what we see. It's haunting to know that people want to project a stereotypical situation to his nuanced one.

Additionally, there were theories that Will is a victim of CSA, and I'm not only referring to the ones about Vecna/MF/UD allegories (these I very much agree with) but those about full-on CSA by Lonnie. While I'm still on the fence about it, I acknowledge this is also a possibility.

To sum up, our boy Will has been through a lot. Emotional baggage? Check. Susceptibility to “monstrous” labels? Check.

Not his fault

Up until this point I was being ambiguous about whether my theory is applicable to S2 only or other seasons as well. I have to admit, right now the werewolf costume guy is no more than a little foreshadowing of the S2 plot. However, given the fact that S5 is promised to take inspiration from S2, some of its key elements or plot points may be reused, albeit probably in a different fashion. Additionally, new information might be revealed, meaning that the metaphore has potential to grow into something bigger in the future.

For now I'll focus on the S2 events mainly and compare them to I Was A Teenage Werewolf.

___

Movie: Tony Rivers embodies a typical delinquent from the 50's. He's a troubled rebellious teenager with anger issues. He exhibits such violent behavior that he's advised to seek psychological help.

IT: Richie doesn't fixate on the anger part and instead uses “bad feelings” wording to convey broader (or perhaps, entirely different) meaning. Ultimately, we're led to believe that it doesn't matter what character traits Tony possessed. What's more important is 1) he had psychological issues; 2) he was advised to seek out professional help.

ST: Will has a lot of unresolved trauma from his experience in the UD, which manifests in “bad feelings”, so-called flashbacks and coughing up demonic slugs. He's advised to undergo medical supervision/scientific surveillance at Hawkins Lab.

___

Movie: Dr. Alfred Brandon embodies the classic mad scientist archetype. He conducts experiments on people by using hypnosis and medication in unconventional ways and claims it's for a greater cause. He draws out Tony's traumatic childhood memories during their sessions. Brandon has an assistant, Dr. Hugo Wagner, who comes across as compassionate and humanistic.

ST: Dr. Martin Brenner is affiliated with multiple scientific projects that conduct experiments on people by using sensory deprivation, psychedelic drugs and various abuse/manipulation tactics. He, too, claims it's for a greater cause. Also works with traumatic childhood memories, e. g. the whole NINA project. If twelvegate is proven true in S5, these parallels will become positively unhinged. Brenner repeatedly works with Dr. Owens, who on the outside seems more sympathetic towards main heroes.

___

Movie: Tony finally accepts Dr. Brandon's help after a Halloween party gone wrong. He decides to trust everyone's opinion, goes through the procedure and ends up becoming “possessed by wolves” (= made into a werewolf).

ST: Will accepts the fact that he's spiraling and needs help on Halloween night. He decides to trust Dr. Owens, Joyce and Bob that his visions are just PTSD-related episodes. He follows Bob's advice and ends up possessed.

Ultimately, this is the moment when Will's trust is broken. Although it's definitely not Bob's or Joyce's fault, a collective authority figure represented by Hawkins Lab fails Will. It fucks him up big. And one can argue, Owens' incapacity to protect him wasn't a simple negligence but an extension of Brenner's politics. @/runninguplenorahills suggests the following:

If Owens knew about Brenner being alive and deliberately kept that information to himself (which he did), and if Owens knew about Henry and everything that happened (which seems to be the case too)……. Well….. doesn't that make Owens' inability to help and protect Will in s2 a deliberate choice?

Regardless, it isn't Will's own doing that turns him into someone dangerous — it's the Lab's fault.

___

Movie: Dr. Brandon and his assistant argue about the necessity of transforming Tony because it might be harmful or even fatal to him.

“But you're sacrificing a human life!” ”Do you cry over a guinea pig?”

ST: Dr. Owens argues with other scientists over attacking the UD vines/tunnels and potentially harming Will in the process.

“And if it kills the boy?” ”Then quite frankly, Sam, it kills him.”

___

Movie: In his werewolf state, Tony kills a bunch of his classmates, a random dog, Dr. Brandon and his assistant.

ST: While being possessed, Will leads the soldiers into a trap and gets them killed because they've upset the MF. Owens ends up injured, and Bob gets killed. We can view them all as Brenner's “assistants” to different extents.

All in all, I'd say the metaphor fits. But wait, there's more!

Hiding stuff

Once again referencing @/pinkeoni's posts, there's a long history of Will hiding his feelings. Fascinating how the conversation that basically establishes this trait of his, aka his exchange with Joyce, happens in S2 and specifically in relation to his not-actually-PTSD episodes. But the motive of hiding, be it in a literal or a figurative sense (as in hiding parts of himself), is integral to Will's character. It is continually present troughout seasons and is supported by in-show elements and costume design choices alike.

Billy Hargrove And Henry Bowers Are Overflowing

Parallels should be drawn between Henry and Billy, too. This section is small, but nonetheless I like it — it's a finishing touch to the story and a cherry to top it all off.

Richie completes his train of thought by contrasting Tony and Henry Bowers, accentuating how the latter “didn't bother hiding” his bad feelings, e. g. his anger, bigotry and violent outbursts. The same could be said about Billy. Both of them killed people under the influence (Flayed!Billy, Pennywise-inspired!Henry) and definitely were capable of assault regardless. For both of them a relationship with one's father seems to be an instigation of their descent into madness, although Billy hates Neil, whereas Henry appears to have a more complex, effectively love-hate attitude towards Oscar.

It's also noteable that Billy is a foil character to Will, who is mirroring him in many ways, while Henry and Patrick may be seen as foils to Richie and Eddie when it comes to handling “their same-sex attraction”. And by the way, if sexuaility and attraction is consired “bad feelings” within Will's mind, one particular part of this post becomes all the more relevant. To quote and paraphrase, “Billy wears his sexuality proud and openly”, yet Will's sexuality is suppressed — another case of hiding versus overflowing.

I'd love to TL;DR this post into something concise and coherent, but I fear I'd just end up repeating my points and wording. I'd rather say I have more thoughts on Richie and Will's similarities, so there's gonna be a short post about it sometime down the line. Thank you to anyone who decided that this was worth reading!

[diedbrave]

Since Eddie is refusing to cooperate writing wise (he's angsty and thinks he isn't good enough, so sue him), I figured I'd type up some head canons that have been floating around in my brain since I'm on the latest chapter of the IT audio book and it's from Eddie's perspective. Some of these I've already said before, but since this blog is new and I lost all the HC's on my old one, they might be new to you. Who knows. Also some are not so much head canons as much as highlighting things in the book that people forget about Eddie.

Eddie loves cars. One of the first scenes from his perspective in the novel is him watching a bunch of cars passing by on the box cars on the railroad and him wishing he could have one of those one day. He's absolutely the type to splurge on a fancy car, and that's also why he drives for a living. I know people hc him as a bad driver because of the opening scene in Chapter 2, but I feel like that was just because Mike calling him left him so caught off guard. Aggressive, sure, but still a good driver. You almost HAVE to be to live in New York.

The first love of Eddie's live was Bill (sorry to my Reddie loves, especially as I hardcore stan Reddie). It's just like so apparent in the novel that you can't deny it. There's literally a line where Eddie says he remembers he would die for Bill if Bill asked him to, he would just say when and where. He talks about how much he remembers loving Bill (and later adds it was like an older brother or a father but stfu Stephen King that shit was gay). He seems to be the only Loser that can look at Bill and know what he was thinking without Bill having to say a word. It's true love, y'all.

They mention that there's some sort of room (I forget the exact word they used, I'd never heard of it) above Eddie's garage where Richie and Eddie would spend hours just laughing and reading comics. (Eddie's favorite superhero is Spiderman). I definitely imagine that this is where they shared their first kiss if they kissed as teenagers. Either that or the hammock, but. Still. Cute.

There's some sort of hc I want to write about the fact that apparently like all the Losers would sit around and smoke cigarettes while Eddie would just watch them. I always forget that Bill smoked, too, especially since in the new films it really only shows Beverly. I don't know what I want to write about it, but SOMETHING is there. It stuck out to me.

This is one that @scribedhorror and I have already discussed several times, but Eddie is the only one that can call his best friend 'Billy.' It reminds him too much of Georgie. But Eddie calls him that several times in the book, and I imagine it's because Bill feels that sort of fondness towards Eddie that he did towards his brother, seeing as Eddie is the youngest Loser. And smallest. And most vulnerable.

A hc I have said before, but Eddie hates hospitals. He spent so much time there growing up that he spent most of his time learning how to tend to his own wounds so his mom would (hopefully) not even notice. He definitely had a panic attack waking up from his 'coma' (I say coma bc if you know me, Eddie full out died, and the magic of Maturin upon defeating Pennywise brought Eddie back, but he was definitely dead) and knowing that he was in the hospital all alone.

Old hc, but Eddie also had to use a wheelchair for quite a few months after this and go to physical therapy. No way does someone get stabbed through the chest like that and damage most likely his spine and be able to walk all easy peasy again.

Just made this one up based on the miniseries ending, but I imagine that Eddie will sometimes take small acting roles for money alongside Richie when Richie gets cast in films. He doesn't go by Edward Kaspbrak in the credits because he doesn't want anyone to find him (specifically Myra), but I haven't decided yet what his name would be. Either way, he definitely has a few small cameos and is actually fairly decent, but he would never do it full time.

[beseriouslywilde]

I Could Sleep When I Lived Alone

“Do you know if there’s some unfinished business or— when do you…” Richie gestured vaguely. “Stop being here?”

IT (Stephen King)

Richie & Stan, Richie Tozier and Stanley Uris

(Ghosts, grieving, paranormal, friends, hurt/comfort, angst, 2278 words)

***

Half of Richie’s brain was constantly screaming at him to leave.

Leave his room, leave his house, leave the neighbourhood, leave town.

But the dumber, more emotional part of him was always begging to stay.

He closed his eyes and rolled over, it was too late in the night to be dealing with existential dread, he could discuss it all with his therapist a few days later, he didn’t have to think about it at 3 am, which is when it always seemed to happen.

When the still air in his old house would stir, and Richie would lay in bed and pray to go to sleep, mumbling under his breath the lyrics to his favourite songs to calm his racing heart.

Because after 27 years of not remembering the horrible things he’d lived through as a child, having all of it flood back to him within a week meant he was a bit behind on the therapy.

Needless to say, his brain was his enemy. Really, it always had been, telling him he was wrong, gross, sinful.

But it was nights like these that were the worst.

When Richie could have sworn there was Something there, lurking in the shadows.

He wanted to call Bill. He wanted to call Bev, Ben, Mike, they were all out of town, living their lives like normal people, writing books, building houses, visiting fricking Florida, and Richie was stuck in Derry with his trauma and his loneliness, just because part of him didn’t want to leave.

Because that part of him wanted to call Eddie.

Eddie Kaspbrak, who Richie watched die in the basement of the Neibolt house.

Richie jumped at the noise of the ancient furnace turning on in the basement, he hugged the bedsheets closer to himself, taking a deep breath.

“Notrealnotrealnotreal.” He muttered like a chant, it was familiar in a gut wrenching way that made him want to throw up.

His eyes were squeezed tight, with his face pinched with invisible pain.

He wanted to cry, scream, die, anything. He just wanted the house to stop seeming too empty.

Because if it was too empty it felt like there was someone there, and he really, really couldn’t deal with that.

Despite being almost frozen with fear, he reached out from under the blanket as quickly as he could to flick on his bedside lamp.

It illuminated the small room with a flash, boxes both emptied and unopened alike littered the space, casting shadows that he scanned with panicked, unblinking eyes.

When it seemed like there was nothing, he let out another deep breath, restarting his chorus of ‘not real’s.

Around him, the bedsheet seemed too tight, and the walls seemed too close, and the lamp just wasn’t bright enough.

He kicked the sheet off of himself, and stepped off the bed cautiously, grabbing his empty water glass from the bedside table.

Richie felt awkward, his cold bare feet tensed on top of the laminated wood floor, sitting at the edge of his bed, contemplating ignoring the screaming in his chest and going back to sleep, or blocking out the way his hand was jittering at the thought of going downstairs for more water.

In an act of courage, he stood up on uneasy legs, stepping numbly through the mess on his bedroom floor, and down the stairs into the kitchen, turning on all of the lights on his way down.

He checked over his shoulder as he made his way to the tap, turning his attention from his surroundings, then to the sink, then back, in a loop until his cup was full.

The entire time, Richie didn’t stop mumbling ‘not real’, to the point where it sounded more like “Noreel”. 

If he repeated it enough he could convince himself it was true, that’s how it worked with IT, and that was how it was going to work with his fears, he was sure.

If he was sure he wouldn’t be awake at such an early hour stressed out about an empty house.

Richie shook his head, he took another breath and continued whispering, raising his voice slightly, since there was no one there to hear him.

He closed his eyes and took a sip of water, it felt cool down his dry throat and helped to quell the feeling of bile rising.

His eyes shot open the moment he heard a sound from behind him.

He gripped the counter with his free hand, torn halfway between facing the noise or just letting it happen behind him.

“Damn.” He heard whispered behind him, raising the hair on the back of Richie’s neck.

Richie froze completely, with his eyes shut so tight it hurt, though his hand must have loosened, since the next thing he knew the full water glass was slipping from his fingers and crashing onto the kitchen floor.

“Seriously?” The Voice asked rhetorically, with a hint of annoyance and amusement.

In his peril Richie almost didn’t notice how familiar it sounded, because the last time that voice had spoken to him in the same way was when they were only 13 years old. Luckily, Richie’s mind was familiar enough with fear to register it.

Without thinking, Richie spun himself around, his foot getting soaked in the water from the smashed glass on the floor and his eyes open wide, staring with confusion in front of him.

“Careful, Rich.” Stan said, wincing at how close Richie’s foot was to the glass shards.

Richie blinked, fully confused, fully astonished, fully concerned.

The emotional half of him wanted to cry.

The other half wanted to run, to wake up from whatever nightmare he was having, wanted to know exactly what was going on.

Stanley effing Uris on the other hand, didn’t seem at all startled to be dead and in Richie’s house. He walked over to the fridge with a misplaced grace, and threw it open, scowling.

“You’re out of milk.”

Richie watched Stanley sift through the contents of his refrigerator.

“Why don’t you have milk? I told you to buy milk, you’ve been out of it for a week.”

“I didn’t think about it.” Richie shrugged casually.

Then blinked.

Then froze on the spot.

So did Stan.

“What?” He looked over at Richie, slamming the fridge door shut.

“I… I didn’t think about it.” Richie repeated, his voice faltering.

“What?” Stan said again.

“I didn’t think about-”

“You can hear me?”

Richie stared, stunned, and nodded slowly.

“Jesus Christ.” Stanley said, mortified.

“You’re jewish.” Richie pointed out.

“You’re talking to a ghost in your kitchen and that’s what you think to say?”

“You’re a ghost?” Richie asked stupidly.

“What else would I be? I’m dead.” Stan ran his fingers through his curls frantically, pacing in a tiny circle in front of the fridge.

Richie shifted his weight from foot to foot, not taking his eyes off of Stanley Uris, ghost.

“My god.” Richie said, staring at his old friend, taking in his scars, his face, his height, his hair, his clothes. “You’re older.”

“So are you.”

“You would have known that if you had shown up.” Richie’s voice held a lot more venom than he’d intended.

Stan’s face fell into a morose frown. “Look, Rich, I’m sorry-”

“No, no, I’m sorry Stan.” Richie said aggressively. “I just… I needed you there. You promised you would be there.”

“I know, Rich-”

“Do you have the scar?” Richie asked.

Stan brought up a hand to run a finger along the small scars spread out around his face.

“Not that one,” Richie didn’t mean to remind Stanley of that happening. Ghost or not, he was still apparently Stan. “The hand.”

Stanley dropped his eyes to his palm, where he traced the crease carefully.

“It never went away.”

Richie sighed. “I’m really sorry.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t mean to bring that all up, but… we could have really used you, man.”

Stanley smiled, “You did it though, beat It.”

“We did.”

“I’m sorry about Eddie…” Stan trailed off.

“It’s- yeah, it’s- thanks.”

Richie willed himself to wake up, he didn’t want this dream to go any further, he wasn’t sure if he could handle the false hope.

When it seemingly didn’t work he pinched the inside of his wrist, but not very discreetly, Stanley noticed but kept his thoughts to himself.

“Why are you here?” Richie asked after pinching himself proved painful.

Stan shrugged, “It’s my hometown… and I feel bad for not showing up, but I still wanted to be here, I just knew that I couldn’t. I would never be able to handle it and I would bring everyone down.” “I got your letter.”

“I know.”

“But really, why not haunt your wife?”

Stan smiled, “I don’t think I can. I didn’t try to come here, it just sort of happened. Lets me look out for you, though.”

“Look out for me?”

“Notes,” Stan gestured to the fridge, covered in Sticky Notes in Richie’s messy handwriting.

“Those are yours?” Richie asked. Most of them he didn’t remember writing, always assumed it had just been nights like this when he’d been far too tired to form coherent memories.

“Yep.” Stan plucked one off the fridge door, holding it in his hands.

“You possessed me?”

Stanley laughed. “I don’t think I can do that, no.” He twirled the sticky note in his fingers. “I’m pretty much entirely corporeal.”

“You can hear me? Talk to me? Touch things?... Are you even dead?” Richie asked with a hopeful lilt in his voice.

“I’m dead.” Stan said, his voice taking a darker tone. “I’m dead, Rich, okay?”

“But you seem basically alive-”

“I’m dead.” Stanley repeated. The bags beneath his eyes darkened against his suddenly pale, sunken cheeks. His curls clumped together with phantom water, dripping down his nose and chin.

Thin routes of red made their way across the fabric of his sleeves, meeting his elbow and dripping down against the kitchen floor, splattering with the dark, beading texture of blood.

Richie blinked at the sight before him, his friend, dead, talking to him in his kitchen.

Before he was finished processing the scene before him, Stanley’s face had regained some of its brightness and he was raking a hand through his wet hair.

“Sorry.” He said in much too small of a voice, a voice that knew the exact horror of what it had just exhibited. “I don’t like doing that.”

“You’re all wet.”

“It’s how I died.” Stan picked at the button on his shirt, which was still drenched.

“In the bath? With your clothes on?”

Stan shook his head. “I’m gonna need another pair of clothes. These ones are kind of… wrecked.” He gestured to the bloodstains blooming along the sleeves.

“So you can wear clothes?”

“It’s murky, I know. But yeah, I can wear clothes, I can touch stuff, I can talk, but I’m dead.”

Stanley pulled the sleeve of his shirt down timidly, a wince written on his face.

“Does it hurt?”

Stan nodded minutely, almost afraid to admit.

“It always hurts. But the blood… it… reminds me.” He looked down, averting his eyes from Richie’s and catching sight of the ground. “Shit, I’ll clean this all up.”

He walked past Richie, never coming too close to him and pulling as far away as possible almost immediately with paper towels in hand.

“Ghost blood.” Richie remarked.

Stan laughed gently as he bent down to wipe the tile gently.

“So, if they came and did a sample on the ghost blood, would it show up as yours? How’s that supposed to work?”

Stan paused for a moment, “No, it would probably not work, or they might not even be able to see the blood. Sometimes I can do that.”

“Sometimes?”

“Sometimes. Being occult isn’t very organised. I didn’t get a Handbook For The Recently Deceased or anything. I’m just stuck with my limited horror film knowledge and estout intellect.”

“Right.” Richie passed Stan some bleach. “Just in case you want to make sure it’s clean.”

Stan took it gratefully, still avoiding Richie’s touch.

He knelt down next to Stan, putting the smallest distance between them of the entire time.

“So, anyways, I’m not sure why I’m here, it sort of happened, I made my way here, half through some ghost-teleportation –Which was honestly cool as hell– and some fumbling around with a lot of phone books, none of which you were in, then asking around until I was brought here.”

“Casa Tozier.”

“Except I’ve been living here as long as you have.”

“Well… living is debatable.”

Richie half expected Stan to roll his eyes or curse his name, smite him, etc. 

Could ghosts smite? It’s quite odd when the ghost doesn’t even know what the ghost can do.

Instead, Stanley smiled a small, friendly smile. The type Richie had grown out of being on the receiving end of.

“Fine, I moved in a few days after you, sort of, I’ve been staying here at night.”

“What about during the day?”

Stan’s smile dropped off instantly. “Cemetery, sometimes.”

“Cemetery?” Ghosts revert back to cemeteries? Even the ones they weren’t buried in?

“The cemetery. Derry cemetery.”

“I got that, but why?”

Stan shrugged. “I get to look around.”

“Oh.” Richie wasn’t quite sure what it meant. But clearly it was something. A big something that Stan seemed torn about talking through.

“If I’d stayed would I be here now? Would I be like this?” Stan cast a glance down at his bloodstained shirt.

“I don’t know.” Richie moved closer to him on the ground, still a few inches between them. “If you’d stayed would I even be alive? It would have changed everything.”

“Well, at least one of us is still here. Physically, I mean.”

“Do you know if there’s some unfinished business or— when do you…” Richie gestured vaguely. “Stop being here?”

“That’s a good question.” Stan shrugged. “I wish I knew the answer. Being dead sucks. I thought that maybe it would be easier, that I wouldn’t have to worry about any of this any more, that there wouldn’t be anything for me to worry about, but… it’s all I do. Still. What was it you used to call me? And the kids at school? Urine? Stanley Urine? Inventive and accurate.”

“Stan, I didn’t mean it.”

“I know you didn’t. But the others did, they always did. And they were right, because look at me. I’m fucking dead, and I’m a mess, and I’m stressed out—“

“Take a breather, man.” Richie said placatingly. “Or— don’t? Do you breathe? Nevermind. Not important. Chill out. There we go.”

Stan did his best, a deep breath in, exaggerated so that Richie could tell.

“I think I’m here to say sorry.” He said after a moment of quiet. “Like, really. Really apologise, complete truth, say it all. And say that I’m sorry.”

“I know you’re sorry, man.”

“No. You can know that, but it’s not the same. I’m sorry. Like, really, really sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for everything that’s happened, and I’m sorry I died, and that I even had to, I’m sorry that Eddie died, I’m sorry that you’re staying in this huge ass house all by yourself and that— that none of it’s my fault. Well, most. The other bits, that aren’t me dying. I’m sorry. And I’m sorry that me saying sorry won’t fix all of this shit.”

Richie sat, his eyes on Stan’s.

“Shit.” Richie said, half astonished.

“Shit.”

“That was a lot.”

“I had a lot to say.” Stan looked down at his hands, tracing once more over the raised scar on his palm.

“I forgive you, by the way. I think it’s not your fault, but I forgive you.”

“Thank you.”

“I don’t know if it’s enough to get you out of this limbo, but I hope it’s enough.”

“And… what about you?”

“Me?”

“What’ll you do?”

Richie scoffed. “Live, I guess.”

“And I hope that you live the best fucking life. You should… talk to someone, anyone, Bill, Bev, Mike, Ben, whatever. It doesn’t even have to be one of them, talk to someone else, just… don’t be alone. Not like you’ve been for so long. And I’m sorry I never said anything sooner, I didn’t think it would work, and I didn’t think you needed it. But you do, Rich. I want you to be okay, and I know what it’s like not to be.”

“Thank you.” Richie said softly. “Thank you.”

He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, but when he woke up, laying in his bed as the sun peeked in through the windows, there was a lightness Richie hadn’t felt in ages.

**

[urmomsmainbitch]

american idiot - chapter one

link to wattpad story // link to series masterlist // link to writing

word count: 2.7k

warnings: the bowers gang, weapons, violence, basically the whole thing (if you're not comfortable with violence or abuse -- which henry faces during the movies and during the book -- then i recommend you don't read, but i'll try to tag appropriately!)

a/n: i hope you don't think it's ass but this is probably going to come out every other friday or so but this is more of a trailer than the start of the actual series

HENRY DIDN'T REMEMBER a better time in his life than when he heard the news that Tommy 'Gun' Lee was coming back to Derry for the summer. To him, nothing topped the moment where is dad was slurring over his dinner (leftover hot dogs -- again), and let it slip that the "ungrateful little bitch" was coming back for a few months over the summer, and that "your whore of a mother" didn't mention if she was staying for the year or not.

He remembered huffing and puffing, grumbling something under his breath before excusing himself, and running to call Patrick like it was fucking Christmas morning.

Something about his darling little sister coming back made his heart race and a smile light up his face, and it was evident from the way he stepped into Derry Middle on the last day of school.

Oh, this summer would be perfect! His deal with Denbrough was over, the gang was all together, and his perfect sister was coming back from San Diego for the summer. Tommy Lee Bowers, he knew, would make this the best summer he;d ever had -- and by fucking God, he wasn't going to let anything stand in his way. Not that stuttering freak or the stupid Tozier kid who's mouth ran a mile a minute or his father's thriving alcohol addiction -- absolutely nothing.

His Tommy Gun would rule that fucking school the second she stepped in to pick him up, and every one knew it.

Word travels fast at Derry Middle, and when it got around that Bowers had a little sister coming, the first thing Bill Denbrough did was panic.

She couldn't be too different, could she?

The same blood ran through their veins, the same color skin on their bones, and most likely, the permanently upturned smirk tattooed to their lips. His hopes didn't improve when he saw the girl himself, waiting outside on the hood of Butch's car, throwing rocks at little kids passing by as she sat patiently for Henry to come outside.

He'd promised her a tour of the school -- it's only fair, he put it, that a queen knows her kingdom before taking it over. Henry had no doubt that Tommy would run the school when it was her time in September. A grade below Tits and the rest of his ugly friends, it would be more embarrassing than anything else to watch them suffer socially at the hands of a twelve year old girl.

(Henry very much looked forward to that moment. So much so, in fact, that he near goddamn skipped his way to the front of the school to open the door so they could start the tour. It helped that he was getting out of math class.)

It was only in the few moments before she walked in the door (immediately claiming the whole goddamn building with a footstep) that Bowers caught him by the bag and dragged him into the bathroom, away from the rest of the kids, and most likely, where he'd lay dying for the rest of the school day and foreseeable future (Stanley refused to shit in the school bathrooms, and seeing as he was the only one on this side of the building, he was screwed.).

Bill had never liked being alone with Henry Bowers. Nothing good ever came out of it, and he didn't want to stick around this time to find out why he'd been pulled into a bathroom and away from the rest of the student population. Henry let go of Bill's bag, letting him stumble around for a second or two before straightening up and backing him up against the wall.

"W-what d-d-do you w-want, B-Bowers?" Bill nearly spat, looking the older boy in the eyes. Henry's permanent smirk seemed to grow a few inches on either side, because he just chuckled softly -- albeit cruelly -- and looked down at the Denbrough boy. Bill could smell his breath, even though the two weren't standing particularly close to one another.

"Well, B-b-billy," he mocked, nearly laughing as he relaxed his posture a little bit and backed away from him. (Any one is passing who didn't know them might have said, "Hey, I bet those two boys are damn good friends.") "I have some news for you and your group of stupid fucking friends, and let me tell you" -- Henry stopped to laugh for a second, like he was cracking himself up -- "it's going to make your life a living hell."

Bill gulped. He didn't think, realistically, it could get much worse.

"You got a free ride this year because of your little brother," Henry reminded, smiling a little bit, seeming genuine. "But the ride's over Denbrough. This summer is going to be the worst summer of your entire life."

(Bill didn't expect him to say anything else -- but honestly, every summer was the worst summer of his entire life. He didn't catch a break from the older boy and his group of goons, but there was a feeling down in the pits of his stomach that told him that this time, this time, for real, was going to be the worst summer vacation he's ever going to have as long as he lives.)

"But I do have a little piece of extra advice I'm gonna give you."

Bill huffed. "You're so generous," he started, rolling his eyes, as he tried to walk out of the bathroom. Henry grabbed onto his backpack, "but I think I'll have to pass with this one."

He was cut off as Bowers kicked him on shin and onto the cold bathroom tiles. So much for being brave.

"I think you might want to hear this." Henry squatted down to look Bill in the eyes. There was still a hint of a smile on his face. Boy, this is gonna be good. "If you think I'm a pain in your ass--"

"I d-do think you're a p-pain in m-my a-ass."

Henry paused for a second, sending a menacing smile, and pushed him back on the ground as he got up and stepped over the boy on the floor, before beginning to make his way out of the bathroom before looking back, before lending Bill a hand to get up. He hesitantly took it and brushed off his pants, lips pressed tightly together as he looked at Henry. "Then you're gonna hate the girl sitting on Belch's car."

"Why's that?" Bill asked, feigning confidence, already knowing the answer. Henry could tell, just exhaling and giving him a big mischievous smile, hands behind his back.

"Not important, but she's not gonna be as nice as I am," he said with a grin, "but I'm just looking out for you, Billy Boy. Wouldn't want Tommy Gun to whip your ass without some working, right?"

With that, Henry left the bathroom, a smile plastered on his face as he went to greet his sister, and Bill raced out of there like his ass was on fire -- warning Richie not to talk to or about the pretty girl sitting on Belch's car.

-- -- --

"Best feeling ever!" Stan groaned, grinning ear to ear as he dumped out everything from his backpack. School had finally let out for the summer — no more stupid math classes or dumb reading assignments and annoying history tests, just Stanley and his bird book for three whole months.

A piece of his own personal heaven. Points if the pretty girl on Belch's hood was with him but hey, he wasn't picky.

"Really?" Richie asked with a grin on his face, "Try tickling your pickle for the first time." Eddie rolled his eyes, but Bill smiled. Stan let out another groan -- not a good one, this time -- even though, if he had to be honest, this seemed like it would be the best summer of his whole entire life.

Richie felt it too, if he were going to tell the truth (as he so rarely did -- or at times, so bluntly did), that this felt like it was going to the be the absolutely best summer he would have for the rest of his life. He had a whole checklist and everything for things he wanted to do (kiss some girls), things he wanted to see (some girls' boobs), and things he wanted to experience (there were a number of interesting things on this list).

And quite frankly, he felt as though every single thing on every one of his lists could be accomplished with the girl sitting on Belch Huggins' car hood, smiling mischievously as she watched the kids coming out of school.

God, did she really and truly look like an angel. Deep brown hair, straight in some parts and wavy in others, came down a little bit past her collarbone (not super cared for, but neither was his), cherry red lips, and a cute line of freckles going across the bridge of her nose. She was the most impressive tan he'd ever seen in his whole life, a very deep beige from the summer sun — even though it was only June.

The top part was being held up by some clip, and Richie could see his own Hawaiian shirt going over her tank top instead of the open button down she was wearing on top. It was lazy looking and careless and little bit disheveled, but that day, Richard Wentworth Tozier II was convinced he saw the hottest girl to ever be created.

Eddie interrupted his dream, snapping him back for only a second. "So what do you guys want to do tomorrow?"

"I start my training," Richie responded immediately.

"Training for what?"

"Street Fighter."

"You're going to spend your whole summer inside of an arcade?" Eddie couldn't imagine that prospect, but with Richie, anything was possibly -- no matter how disgusting it might seem.

"Beats spending it inside of your mother, oh!" Richie's goofy grin came back in an instant and leaned over for a high five from Bill when his hand was brought down by Stan. "And, 'course, my summer bucket list."

Eddie sent him a pity glance, "No girl's gonna let you fuck her this summer, Richie. If they have any brains at all, no girl is going to let you go within a ten foot radius of her without realizing what she's doing." Richie pressed his lips together. Of course Eddie would be cynical, it's just because — "and don't tell me that I think it because I just haven't hit puberty yet!"

Richie gave him a toothy grin, "Aw, shucks, Eddie Spaghetti, you know me so well. When you see a pretty girl, like say, that one over there—" he pointed discreetly towards the girl on the hood —"you'll get that feeling of butterflies in your stomach and just think, 'Wow, I've just seen an angel.' I don't mean Bowers, I just-"

"Yeah, you mean his little sister." Eddie looked up to Richie for a response, only to see him at a loss for words, jaw dropping and face paling.

For once, Richie Tozier was speechless as Eddie laughed and slapped his back as Bill mentioned something about the Barrens and Georgie and finding him — even though everybody had long accepted the fact that Georgie wasn't just missing.

It was like a switch. Everything changed in that instant. It was like she grew fangs and claws, and he watched Patrick look at her like she hung the fucking moon. It was incredibly painful, but he assumed, in a sense, they deserved each other. It took a second before he realized what this would actually mean for him: having to worry about a double in the hallways — a hot double that could potentially fool him into forgetting her Bowers-ness — and someone else to make fun of him in ways that he'd never tjough imaginable.

Sure, Bowers wasn't awfully bright, but he sure as hell was creative when it came down to it.

"Gunner!" Richie heard Bowers (the boy one) laugh as she shoved him in the side, cackling along herself, cigarette never leaving her mouth — opting just to talk out of the side of it.

Oh, so her name must have been Gunner. That's unfortunate, he thought to himself. But then again, she seems awful, so maybe she just deserves it. He smiled to himself. "Tommy Lee, we've gotta start heading out soon."

Wait, so was it Tommy Lee? Or was it Gunner? Was that just the gang's nickname for her? More importantly, if it was, why the fuck would they choose a name like Gunner for her? Nothing was settling about that fact, and although Richie wasn't typically one to spiral, it was hard to control himself.

"You didn't tell me you had friends, Henny!" Tommy exclaimed girlishly, making Patrick spit out his sofa and slam his hand on the car hood, flicking out her cigarette and letting Patrick snuff it out. She put a hand on her heart. "Oh, you've grown up so fast! I remember it was just yesterday you took a massive shit in that kids backpack and had to do forty hours of community service!"

Richie could tolerate a lot of things. One thing he couldn't tolerate though, was not being able to chime in when his story was being used and told all wrong — or mentioned without his name. Luckily, he was spared his intervention by a howling Belch Huggins.

"It was four eyes!" Huggins nearly screamed, warning a howling laugh from Tommy and shove from Victor, followed by a point led by Patrick. "Yeah, him!"

Richie could feel his face heating up, but before he could say anything, the bright blue TransAM was firing up the engine, and was getting ready to peel out of the school parking lot like a man man was driving.

Bill was the first to say anything. "Sorry about that, Rich. Bowers is a real asshole."

"So is his sister," he made out through his teeth.

Richie saw himself as a 'go with the flow' kind of guy, but goddamn it, he wasn't going to let Tommy Lee shit all over him and get away with it.

He was too stubborn, too arrogant, and too proud to let that happen, but with only a second or two of knowing she existed, he knew she was the exact same way. He could get tell it with the way she walked and talker and immediately took control of some of the scariest kids in Derry Middle.

But she wouldn't come out on top of this one.

There's no way. He refused to let it happen. Letting her win would show everyone else that he was just a loser who couldn't stand up to a girl who's was going to beat the living daylights out of him if he looked at her the wrong way.

She already had Henry and Patrick and Belch on her side — an even, if not better, match to four decently sized seventh graders. There was no excuse for them to get beat.

Grinding his teeth and tearing his eyes away from her, laughing mischievous and almost secretly as she put her cigarette out on Belch's hood as not to be noticed by he coo around the corner (Rich didn't know that the cop around the corner was her father who would beat her till she couldn't stand if he caught her smoking) he said, "So, Barrens tomorrow, right Bill?"

And right as Tommy Lee Bowers and her newfound gang pulled out of the parking lot, she and Richie Tozier locked eyes and made a silent pact — an agreement — something they both agreed on — something he'd be thinking about all night and the whole next morning:

Derry is two small for the two of us.

[soulwillower]

helping hand • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader smut) 

 requested: How about some Richie x Reader fluff and smut where Richie breaks his right arm protecting the reader from someone or something so they end up taking care of Rich and doing things for him until he's better. But one day they see he's frustrated and acting weird until he confesses he can't jerk off so the reader helps him out ;) also I forgot what emoji I was so I'll just be this lol - 🐜

warnings: swearing, smut, switch! richie, oral sex (male receiving), a teensy bit of dirty talk, unedited

[losers + reader are 18+]

2.7k words

♡

you keep your cool until richie sighs for the fifth time. "okay, what's wrong?" you ask, putting down your book and looking at richie, who's laying on his back, staring at the ceiling. so dramatic.

"oh, nothing." he says nonchalantly, but you quirk a brow. "do you need something? does your arm hurt?" you ask, starting to get up and find his painkillers. he shakes his head, using his good arm to prop himself up on his mattress as he tells you not to get up. your eyes catch the pink arm cast on his right hand and your lips quirk up at the messy writing all over it : in fancy writing, the name "dick" (courtesy of stan) glints under the light of richie's bedside lamp.

you'd written your name with a small heart because normally, had it been a different case, you would've drawn as many penises as you could fit - just like eddie and bill had done. but you had a little more sympathy for your friend because, after all, richie had broken his arm trying to help you.

as much as you're sure richie fantasized about being the 'knight in shining armor' that comes to the rescue with swords blazing, what he really did is break his arm by running his mouth. but honestly, he still was your knight in shining armor no matter what because you were unfortunately head over ass for the boy.

henry bowers is who you could blame for all this; its almost as if he had a knack for snapping kid's arms in two like he'd done to eddie when you were all thirteen. he'd been alone (for what might have been the first time ever), waiting outside keene's drug store when you, richie, stan and ben had come out, slushies in hand. he'd come to get a 'revenge' of sorts because you'd given him a slight embarrassment when you dumped your food tray on him earlier that day in the cafeteria.

he'd pushed you towards the wall (and yes, you had dropped your slushie) and wound back like he was about to really give one to you right in the gut, but richie had immediately grabbed his skateboard and smacked bowers in the head with the deck hard enough that you could slip away when he recoiled.

unfortunately for the rest of you, especially richie, bowers tossed him right to the ground and landed a solid punch to his cheekbone before stan, ben and you could rip him off. but it got worse, because richie called him something along the lines of "daddy's boy" and that struck quite a nerve, prompting henry to stomp down so hard on richie's forearm that it broke skin and you could hear the sickening snap.

so after a slight concussion, a round of minor surgery and a pink arm cast fastened around and up the crook of his elbow, richie was unable to go to school for a week and you felt the need to help him in any way you saw fit. you were concerned, but more than anything you just wanted to be around him, because he made you happy and made you laugh and turn red in a way that nobody else does.

"well then what's bothering you?" you ask, walking over so you're sitting sideways on his bed next to him. you swear his cheeks turn a little red and he grins small, "oh, nothing, sweet thing. it's all your imagination, i'm doing swell!" he insists, winking at you. it doesn't work though, and you roll your eyes. "if you don't tell me, i can’t do it for you and you’ll have to suffer in silence." you reason.

richie makes an odd expression and mutters, "you have no idea."

you're thouroughly frustrated now, "i promise, whatever it is i will do my best to do it for you or help you, i just need to know what it is!" you insist, annoyed that he's being so stingy.

he shakes his head, mimicking a zipper motion and he tosses the invisible key into his overloaded trash bin in the corner of his room. you huff and roll your eyes, deciding to pick up and fold some of the blankets on his floor.

if you wiggle your hips more than necessary when you bend over, that’s your own business and not richie’s. and if he stares openly at your ass with his bottom lip punctured under his canines, that’s his own business and not yours.

"no, doll." he says, but his cheeks are bright pink, his lip caught between his teeth as his eyes avoid yours. "you - no." he insists, chuckling to himself awkwardly. despite how weird he was acting, your stomach flutters and sways around because of how goddamn cute he was, how attractive it was when he bit his lip. jesus, you're so fucked for him.

you tilt your head, feeling annoyed that he's being difficult, "just tell me!" you insist, looking at him bewildered. what isn't he telling you?

"well i can't, like, just tell my best friend that i'm frustrated because i can't rub one out without giving my dick cast-burn. that shit hurts, by the way." he adds, groaning as he rubs his forehead in exasperation.

you feel yourself burn red at the words he says and you roll your eyes, "well you just did and i'm horrified." and that's very, very far from the truth.

in all honesty, right now as you look at richie you can't help but imagine him, lips parted and cheeks warm as he pants, the sweet moans and groans that would leave his lips as he touches himself. in fact, it makes you clench your thighs together.

"can't you use your other hand?" you ask tentatively, unsure if you're crossing a boundary that you don't want to cross. because richie is, as you and the losers very well know, very open about his sex life, and you're afraid he will tell you things that will make you see green in jealousy.  

"it just doesn't feel as good, y/n." he mumbles, falling back and sighing. tentatively, you lay your hand on his thigh as you pull yourself up closer to his body. "i'm weak. and injured." he adds in a whine.

"i'm not." you say, lifting a brow. your stomach starts to burn as you realize what you're going for right now - what if richie gets disgusted?

you snap out of it as richie sits up, propping himself so he can look up at you with raised eyebrows. "well lucky you, that doesn't help me, though." he says with a lifted brow.

you shrug, deciding to just fuck it and shoot your shot. "it could." you say boldly, your hand still on his sweats. he gapes at you, slowly licking his lips as an awkward laugh escapes his mouth. the huff of his laugh isn't one of mockery; more one of disbelief as he already feels himself twitch under his sweats as you look down at him.

you clear your throat softly, "i could."

"oh, shit." he mutters, eyes wide and a smirk on his face. "y-you're for real?"

you nod as he sits up slightly so he's even with you, his breath hot as it hits your face. you shrug, hand gliding up slightly to reach his waistband. his breath hitches as your fingertips run over the band. "only if you want it."

the way he nods and pulls you directly to him would be pathetic if you didn't feel the exact same (if not more) desperation in your body for him. his lips are shockingly soft and you smile against his lips as you realize he's wearing bev's strawberry flavored chapstick. as his tongue slides into your mouth, your hand slides over to palm his hardening dick, smiling a bit as he moans at the touch.

a few minutes later you've lost both your shirts, hickies splattered throughout richie’s chest and neck, and you climb between his legs, knees on the ground as his legs fall to the ground from his bed. 

you slide his sweats off and he lets out a whine. "think you can handle it?" you mutter with a smirk. his red cheeks puff a bit as he rolls his eyes.

you press your thighs together at the sight of his dick straining against the fabric of his boxers. “y/n. you’re.. fuck.” he mutters as you mouth over his fully hard cock. your hands come up to the waistband of his boxers and you slide them down as he watches you with intense eyes.

his cock is hard and long and you grip his base, your hand coming to steady yourself on his thigh, trying not to show your shock at how big he actually is.

"think you can handle it, toots?" he says cockily, recalling what you'd said earlier and making you roll your eyes. "shut up." you mutter and slowly you start to move your hand, darting your tongue out and flattening it to lick from the base all the way up to his tip, staring into his eyes as you take in his tip.

he’s muttering swears, eyes wide as he watches you suck lightly. as you take a breath and sink lower onto his cock, your tongue flattening on the bottom of his shaft as you push further, he tightens his grip.

he lets out a low moan which might be the hottest noise you’ve ever heard, his hands flying to the back of your head in pleasure. the rest of him that you can’t fit you pump with your hand, your head bobbing and making obscene sounds in his empty bedroom. you have to clench your thighs because you're so incredibly turned on, enthusiastically moving your head as he groans. the action makes you moan around him and he moans your name, motivating you further.

you shiver when his good hand comes to gather your hair back behind your head as well as he can, muttering "fuck, doll, been wanting this for forever." you’re breathing through your nose, swallowing around him and you moan at his words because god, you've waited forever too. he feels so good, so big as he stretches your throat and you do your best to swallow around him. "good, right there. 'm close, y/n/n."

he pushes your head down on him slightly and you choke, pulling back. he looks regretful, even though his cherry lip is caught between his pearly white teeth and his hair is disheveled and his cheeks are rosy. “that- that was hot. you can do that again.” you gasp, voice broken as you suck in breaths. you feel a string of spit from your lips to his dick and he smirks, eyeing the sight. he shuts his eyes, clenching his jaw, “fuck-” he mutters before he guides you down to his cock again, thrusting slowly.

his hands forcing your head down lightly. “yeah, toots. just like that.” he says lowly as you try to relax your throat, gagging as he pushes you further down on him. you feel him hit the back of your throat and he moans loudly.

you try to pull back to breathe, but he holds you for a few more moments before he quickly pulls you off. you gasp and sputter, knowing you’re fucked because that was about the hottest thing to ever happen to you. you just stick your tongue out again, opening your mouth eagerly. you want him back in your mouth. "please, rich." you say and his jaw almost drops, eyes dark as he pushes you back onto him and guides your head up and down, hitting your throat.

spit is streaming from your mouth and the room is filled with the sound of his cock in your mouth and your moans. you can tell he’s getting close and you hollow your cheeks as well as you can. “shit, doll, i’m-i’m gonna cum.” he mutters, trying to pull you off, but you stay, bobbing and sucking, wanting to taste him for as long as you can.

and he spills into your mouth, your hand slowing to a stop as you slowly slide your mouth up and down, tongue lapping up all the cum from his cock. you swallow it, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand and gasping. his cheeks are bright red, his chest heaving as he tugs your hands so you fall onto the bed with him, his casted arm resting against his chest, you during up on his side. it's quiet for a few moments as he tugs his boxers up.

he turns his head on the mattress and you do too, eyes meeting. "how can i get you to do that even when the cast comes off, babe?" he asks - his voice is teasing but soft. you grin softly and roll your eyes. "i think you just need to ask, rich." you say with a short chuckle. he boops your nose with his non casted arm and it releases an embarrassing amount of butterflies in your stomach.

"right. hey, y/n, can i go down on you?" he asks with a smile. your face feels hot as you gape at him, shocked at his bluntness. "rich, i-"

he laughs, "nah, doll. but for real, will you go out with me sometime? i promise i'm a gentleman. i'll buy you dinner, and then go down on you."

you roll your eyes, smushing his face with your hand as you laugh, leaning in to kiss him sweetly. "yeah, sure. i'm doing it for the food, though." he laughs loudly at this. "sure." he mutters, pulling you to his chest.

tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings​ @stenbrozier​ @simplesammyx​ @dickology64​ @clownsloveyou​ @baby-yoda-a​ @moon-shine-baby​ @daughter-of-the-stars11 @lets-vibe-bro @trashedfortozier​ @oceandog13​ @finnskindofwoman​  @kait-tozier​ @upamongthestarss​ @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs

[thesiriusmoon]

Anticipating

Pairing: Richie Tozier and Eddie Kasparak

Genre: Fluff

⚠️ Profanities

AU: IT is dead fr I hate her, Eddie actually does have asthma, and dyslexia.

——————————

It must have been the hottest day ever recorded in the world, Eddie had thought to himself while he overheated under the shade of a large oak tree. Hotter than the inside of a donkeys ass, was his exact thought.

Above, there was the faint sound of Richie’s radio playing while the latter rested on a thick branch, legs spread over the wood and hands clasped behind his head, away in a daydream, tapping his foot against the tree to the rock and roll.

Eddie had declined the offer of a helping hand up, claiming that he didn’t want a splinter from the trees rough bark, or to land his hand in some bird shit. Richie however couldn’t have cared less about those outcomes, and made his way up himself. He loved the smell of the leaves and how they shaded his easily burnt skin from the sun.

This year had been rather quiet. It had been dead for years and never coming back thanks to Big Bill, it had been six years since the dispute with whatever It was, and the group had sworn to stay away from the barrens ever since. Richie’s grades had shot up and his future involving television or maybe radio was looking bright, Eddie had convinced his mother to get a puppy, a Bernese mountain dog, he hadn’t told her how big he would get, she’d just have to deal with it. Now the two boys were chilling just outside of the woods near Clearwater park where parents could take their children to play for an hour or so, or have their older children meet friends. They were behind the tree rather than sitting facing the park, they only needed the company of each other.

“You look like a little ant down there.” A taller, stronger, and probably more vulgar Richie snickered from his spot. Eddie was too hot to say anything back.

He could have fallen asleep against this tree, quite peacefully actually. Henry Bowers was long gone, away somewhere for children who’d gone mad, who knows where he was now edging into adulthood. Eddie didn’t care, he didn’t think about it. Richie however had a thought here and there.

Richie would still be on the casual lookout when out on his own, expecting for Henry to jump out of a bin or behind a corner with his switch blade. Turning around in fright if someone yelled, heard a baby cry, or if there was a bang. But Henry was never there. He hadn’t been for years. Though his hurtful words lingered, which is why he’d never told Eddie how he truly felt about him.

Eddie said good riddance and carried on with his life. Henry was a distant memory. A shadow in his bright life.

“What’s a twelve letter word for getting excited about something to come.” Eddie talked loudly so Richie could hear over his music.

“Erection.”

“Erection…” Eddie counted the letters on his fingers. “That’s not twelve dumbass!”

“You’re the dumbass who doesn’t know the answer my little Eddie, it’s easy.”

Eddie huffed and looked straight ahead. He wasn’t too great at literature. Could tell you multiple medical terms, but to write an essay about them would take him a day. Nevertheless, he practiced. That’s why he had his crossword book. He tried so hard day and night to widen his vocabulary in hope his English grade would go up by at least ten percent. Eddie could talk for hours on a subject, every detail, dates and times, but when he wrote, everything just piled up into a confusing puzzle. He didn’t know where to start, and when he did, his work was as backwards as reading right to left. His teacher was close to dropping him down a level, a level he had busted his ass to pass and now may have to do again.

“C’mon Eds, didn’t mean it like that you know that.” Richie swung down from his branch and sat crisscrossed beside Eddie who looked away scowling.

“Don’t call me Eds.” Eddie grumbled.

“Whyyyyy.” Richie whined. “It’s short, like you. Quite fitting if you ask me.”

Eddie folded his arms, and the crossword caught Richie’s eyes now that it almost hit him with the force of Eddie’s stubbornness.

“Anticipating.” Richie said looking from the crossword to Eddie’s face.

Silently, Eddie unwrapped his arms, and tapped his pen on each of the blank squares, and once reached the end, wrote ‘anticipating’. Richie whispering help when Eddie froze after writing ‘anti’.

It wasn’t often Eddie accepted help, it took a knock at his self-esteem. Even now after getting the answer he wasn’t looking glad or proud, more relieved that the question was gone, but then that started overthinking. If Eddie got someone else to do the hard questions, what would he do during exam time? Call on Richie? He’d get disqualified.

“Cheer up my good fellow!” Richie nudged Eddie slightly, but Eddie dug his knees up to his chin. “Look at all the ones you’ve done! That’s 1,2… 5, Eddie! You little smarty pants.”

Eddie was coming around.

“Eddieeee, edwardoooo, eggy weggy spaghetti. Where’s that lovely smile of your gone? The sun needs it to shine.” Richie begged and dramatically threw his arms up in the direction of the sun as if it needed saving.

“That’s so corny.” The smaller boy turned to Richie and laughed, showing Richie that smile he loved so much.

“Anyways… can you use anticipating in a sentence for me?” Eddie asked, and of course Richie complied.

Not before cooking up an idea.

“I’ve been anticipating to tell you something.”

Richie had an idea, but was he really about to use this cheesy idea to confess to Eddie? It might give Eddie the chucks.

“Ok thanks I get it.” And Eddie resumed with his crossword puzzle, but Richie’s eyes stayed connected to the latters.

They were hazel. Not completely brown, not completely green, a perfect mixture of both where green danced around his pupil and brown pooled the rest of his iris, crashing like waves into the green.

“I can feel you staring. What do you want?” Eddie asked without looking up from his book. “Is there something on my face?!”

“No…”

Richie wasn’t sure anymore. He thought that it wasn’t a bad place to say. It was nice weather, they were alone, and he could easily run home if gone badly. He’d have a few chucks later, maybe after a cry or two. He knew that it would have to be done at some point, he couldn’t keep this a secret any longer, he was going to explode.

Beverley knew, sure, but it was Eddie he needed to tell. Pop the balloon of a thousand questions, and Richie could finally touch the ground.

“Y’know… I always wonder where I’ll be in ten years. Will I be married? Have kids? Be rich? Richie being rich…” Richie was already making bucks from voiceovers on simple cereal adverts and one car wash.

Eddie hummed.

“What about you Eddie?”

Eddie shrugged his shoulders. “Probably still in Mrs Finch’s class trying to pass.” He grumbled.

Richie could feel his insides knot together and pull tighter and tighter each time he opened his mouth to confess, he didn’t know if he could, or if he tried to he didn’t think anything would come out.

He thought Eddie was amazing. His passion, humour, and support, not to mention his bravery, it was surprising how Eddie switched when his friends needed him. Everything about Eddie was beautiful. From his asthma to his joy of running along side Bill’s bike.

“There is one thing I’ve been anticipating…” Eddie mumbled to himself, and Richie’s eyes finally broke contact from the side of Eddie’s.

“What was that?” Richie snapped his head back to Eddie, not realising how close he was to his face, there was only a few inches of space between Eddie’s cheek and Richie’s lips.

Eddie’s mouth purses. “There’s one thing I’d like to do, but it’s a little scary.”

“Eddie… you faced some giant fucking eyeball that was eating Bill with your goddamn inhaler, and led us through the underground pipes for hours without a single mistake, WITH A BROKEN ARM! What can Eddie Kasparak be so afraid of?”

Many things. He was afraid of losing his mother, losing his friends, losing Richie… maybe that’s where his courage stemmed from. If anything, he was being brave not confessing his true feelings to Richie.

“It’s stupid.”

“More stupid than crawling through sewer water?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Because crawling through the sickening paste that was made out of piss and shit meant he could protect Richie, one arm or no arms. All could be lost now if he was dumb enough to spill.

“Well… let me tell you something that I’ve been scared to say.” Eddie faced Richie, not at all bothered about the closeness of their faces. The warm breath from Richie was comforting, and those glasses were cuter than he’d ever admit, it made Richie’s eyes a tad bigger, allowing Eddie to dive deeply into the chocolate swirly river. He bit his bottom lip, hiding half of it in fear he’d get too close and he’d do something he would regret.

“What?” Eddie whispered quietly.

Richie’s gaze softened, the corners of his mouth spreading wider until he was in a love struck trance. In that moment, Eddie had a glint of hope. A sparkle in his eye and gently raised brows gave Richie everything he needed to know.

So Richie slowly closed the gap between their heads. Eddie didn’t pull back.

A kiss that wasn’t well coordinated, seeing as Richie’s bottom lip touched Eddie’s top, and Richie’s top smooched Eddie’s philtrum.

After shaking away his shock, Eddie tilted his head upwards and let his crossword book and pen fall to his lap, leaning into Richie’s kiss. Feeling Richie’s glasses drop down to the end of his nose.

It almost felt unreal, like a dream. Both Richie and Eddie broke into grins and giggles after the short moment, red blush coating their cheeks.

“I’ve been anticipating that for a long time y’know.” Richie laughed, shoving his glasses back up.

“So have I.”

[kaymcgivemeacall]

Details: Mike Hanlon

These are a bunch of facts about Mike that I’ve gathered from the book with quotes to support them! (Sorry, no page number citations, I like keeping some sanity.)

- he loves spring, and he heavily associates it with spending time with his dad.

[”Spring’s here again. We’re all waking up. And in his soul he would raise a silent cheer that shook the walls of that mostly cheerful room. He felt love for everything around him, and most of all for his dad...”]

[”Spring’s here again, thank You God, thank You very much.”]

[”Spring was a busy time, but it was a good time.”]

- he’s left handed!

[”Mike Hanlon’s writing was large and awkward because he was lefthanded and the angle was bad for him.”]

- he loved peanut butter and onion sandwiches, much to the chagrin of his mother.

[”...he was particularly partial to peanut-butter-and-onion sandwiches, a taste that made his mother raise her hands in helpless horror...”]

- he never quite finishes grieving over his father’s death-- or the way that he went.

[”I got reading... and surprised myself by bursting into tears over my father, who has now been dead for twenty-three years.”]

[”But I was most afraid that no matter what shape It took, It would have my father’s cancer-raddled face.”]

[”...it seemed to me then and it seems to be now that when a man or woman goes it should be a quick thing. The cancer was doing more than killing him. It was degrading him, demeaning him.”]

- he played football in high school.

[”Mike Hanlon wove his way through them as he would later weave his way through the opposing lines of nearly a dozen high school football teams...”]

[”in high school he would make the varsity football team as a tailback his sophomore year, and was only kept from breaking the school’s all-time scoring record by a broken leg halfway through his senior season.”]

- and played the trombone in his church school’s band.

[”The Church School had a band in which Mike played the trombone.”]

[”Although his trombone playing was not much better than Richie’s Voices, he was fond of the instrument, and whenever he felt blue a half hour of foghorning Sousa marches, hymns, or patriotic airs cheered him right up again.”]

- Mike considered publishing his historical findings on Derry, Pennywise, and the story of the Losers.

[”The segment below and all other Interlude segments are drawn from ‘Derry: An Unauthorized Town History,’ by Michael Hanlon. This is an unpublished set of notes and accompanying fragments of manuscript... found in the Derry Public Library Vault. The title given is the one written on the cover of the looseleaf binder in which these notes were kept prior to their appearance here. The author, however, refers to the work several times as ‘Derry: A Look Through Hell’s Back Door.’ One supposes the thought of popular publication had done more than cross Mr. Hanlon’s mind.”]

- as an adult, he’s interested in one of his co-workers.

[”I joke with Carole Danner about how much I would like to go to bed with her, and she jokes back about how much she’d like to go to bed with me, and both of us know that she’s really joking and I’m really not...”]

- he wears glasses as an adult.

[”I lie there in bed wearing my conservative blue pajamas, my spectacles neatly folded up and lying on the nighttable next to the glass of water I always put there...”]

- he tends to get stuck on things when fixated on them.

[”But I’m doing my own Bill Denbrough here, stuttering over the same ground again and again, reciting a few facts and a lot of unpleasant... suppositions, growing more and more obsessive with every paragraph.”]

[”I’m doing it again. Going over and over the same ground, doing nothing constructive, only cranking myself up to the screaming point.”]

- he attended the University of Maine, but otherwise never really spent any time outside of Derry.

[”I was born here, in Derry Home Hospital; attended Derry Elementary School; went to junior high at Ninth Street Middle School; to high school at Derry High. I went to the University of Maine--‘ain’t in Derry, but it’s just down the rud,’ the old timers say--and then I came right back here. To the Derry Public Library.”]

- Henry Bowers hates him the most out of all the losers, because of his race and also because of their familes’ history of conflict (that stems from racism). (Basically, racism^2.)

[”One day when we got up, there was a swastika painted on the side of the chickenhouse and all the chickens were dead. Someone had poisoned their feed. ...And who do you think it was? ...Why it was Butch Bowers, that’s who!]

[”So I got my two hundred dollars and Butch swore he was going to burn me out. ...So I caught up with him one afternoon. ...I cut him off on Witcham Street... and got out with my Winchester rifle.”]

[”Well, I’d had enough of the whole thing, Mikey. And I knew if I didn’t scare him off for good right then I’d never be shed of him.”]

[”[Will] had once taken Butch Bowers by the hair and jammed his rifle into the shelf of his chin and demanded of Butch to be left alone.”]

[”Butch Bowers associated his financial, physical, and mental decline with the Hanlon family in general...”]

[I’m not going to put the direct quote for this because it contains about 7 repetitions of the n-word but basically Butch constantly insists to Henry that any inconvenience they experience is Will Hanlon’s fault.]

- Mike does the exhibits for the Canal Days Museum.

[“A Canal Days Museum was installed in three empty storefronts downtown, and filled with exhibits by Michael Hanlon...”]

- He was/presumably is Baptist

[”His mother was a devout Baptist and Mike was therefore sent to the Neibolt Street Church School.”]

- As a kid, he’s physically described as follows

[”In 1958 Mike was slim and well built, taller than Stan Uris but not quite as tall as Bill Denbrough. He was fast and agile...”]

- As an adult, he's 5' 7"

[I literally can't find the quote for this y'all just gonna have to trust me. Cyan not sus just go with it. If I find it I'll come back with an edit.]

[trashmouth--breather]

IT Chapter One: After the Flood (1957), Parts 1-4

oh boy, here we go...

-Though it shouldn't surprise me, I was still a bit startled by the fact that Bill was only ten when George died.

-The first chapter also introduces the first Derry flooding in 1931--exactly 27 years before the current flood in 1957, so of course there's some reference to It here. I felt as though this devastating flooding was Pennywise and his warm welcome to the town, the ode to It's torment, if you will. Even if the water damage was extensive and it cost them billions to repair, the people of Derry only trudge forward to "get through [the flooding]...and to then forget it." Just get over it. Much like how they handle their demon clown in the sewers, and the mass child killings, huh?

-The contrasting tone between Georgie's boots making a "jolly jingling as [he] ran toward his strange death" was especially pretty. Jingling made me think of bells, and of course, bells usually signify the coming of something, or even a jovial tune or occasion. Quite eerie.

-"Bill was good at reading and writing...[but that] wasn't the only reason why Bill got all A's on his report cards. Telling was only part of it. Bill was good at seeing." I don't wanna grasp at nonexistent straws here (or maybe I do) but the "seeing" bit could be a reference to Bill's mnemonic device from his speech therapy. He thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts. Earlier in the quote, George knows his big brother is a good writer, and also recognizes his ability to "see" and have a perceptive outlook in his literature. This kinda tied into why Bill becoming an author and his mnemonic device being one of the braver things to defeat Pennywise was so important. Bill didn't just want to tell the same old story, he wanted people to see it how he did, to see the "ghosts" that no one else could. Which was exactly why overcoming his stutter was him breaking off that fear, he was the only one who suffered with the stutter, maybe that's his "ghost." I'm going on a tangent this is for a later post I'll stop talking.

-This is completely irrelevant, but I have "his left arm curled around the doorjamb in a deathgrip" underlined in my copy, and the following written underneath: enjoy your arm while you still have it Georgie.

-"The smell of the monster, the apotheosis of all monsters." Just beautiful. We're seven pages in and already King is being poetic.

-The visual of George imagining something in the darkness of their basement while looking for wax was so spot on. The quote in the previous bullet point was the stage setter for It, how the children envision their fears. Georgie introducing his fear of the dark as a monster "crouched and lurking" who could "eat anything," but in George's fear-induced lack of rationale, knew It wanted "boymeat." This whole passage was just, eek. The only state of relief for him was the sound of his mother playing the piano in the living room, with King comparing it to "music from another world." Since I've read this before, and I hate to break it to anyone who hasn't read IT, George's mother abruptly stopped the piano playing once he died, so that was a punch to the fandom gut.

-On that note ^ I found this sort of grief in reverse. George fears for things in which he cannot see in the darkness (Pennywise) and the only relief was the soothing sound of the piano played by his mother. At the end of the chapter (or chapter two, technically) we find out that Mrs. Denbrough was faced with the most crippling fear of all: losing one of her sons, which was sort of like It in a way. Then that soothing act of playing the piano ceases, much like the fear that George alternately faced.

-I'll mention this analogy in further posts but It is likened to that of a snake many, many times. George's embodiment of his fear of the darkness was like a snake, with him knowing it "would simply slither part of its rotted self up." The slithering serpent of whatever he imagined was in the basement was "rotted," which also plays on another commonality in the novel of It's overall smell being decaying, rotting, and musty (as all of the Losers minus Richie have noted). Sorry, I'm all over the place but I also love this book aha-

-Once George loses his precious paper boat, and meets Pennywise in the sewer, we are (as I'll repeat this word, forgive me) introduced to It's mind games on the children It feeds on. To George, Pennywise's voice is "perfectly reasonable, and rather pleasant." This rhetoric, if you will, is reinforced further (because, excluding Eddie, Pennywise only feeds on children) when George realizes he only truly believes this clown in the sewers is real because he wasn't ten years older. Children have a different state of mind than adults, and will believe just about anything if it's keyed to the right kid.

-More mind game stuff. The balloons that Pennywise brings forth are "like gorgeous ripe fruit in one hand." This isn't just a somewhat pleasant simlie so Georgie feels secure, it's also a play on temptation. Forbidden fruit? Serpent? Am I getting too far into this?

-Something I thought was kinda interesting was that Pennywise says to George that, "...you're no stranger to me." Which I interpreted as this: earlier, It changes his appearance so his eyes resemble George's mothers (so it's something familiar, "no stranger") or he isn't a stranger to fear? Everyone's a victim of something or other?

-The end of the chapter (part 4) shifts into first person. Which I found annoying, and a bit confusing, but I'm pretty sure it's just Mike, since he is the only other narrator in the whole book to use first person. Don't quote me on that.  

Thanks for taking the time to read this!! Please feel free to comment on my analysis (whether you think I'm right, or full of horse shit) and reblog if you have any ideas!

[babytortie]

so pretty

so pretty ❘ eddie kaspbrak x reader.

a/n: so this was already in the works but then it was requested by an anon - omg can u do eddie smut bae, like i just read ur eddie imagine.

* i hope this lives up to what they wanted. also !! i loved writing this so thanks for pushing me to finish it. :)

summary: in which eddie changes his look and overcomes his anxiety which causes him to gain the confidence he needed to finally make a bold move on his best friend(reader).

warnings: some fluff, mainly s m u t. <3

contains: blonde!!dom!eddie, teasing, begging, hair tugging, fingering, degradation, rough, and unprotected sex.

* all characters ( including reader ) of the loser's club are seniors and 18 in this one-shot.

~ 2.8k words.

in january, the day after winter break of your senior year was when everything started to change for you. it was when eddie decided to move out of sonia's home and into richie's. he'd had enough of his mom and her crazy theories of how he was gaining new sicknesses. though, it was also when he blossomed into the person he was meant to be. 

eddie walked into derry high early that morning with his brunette curls now dyed blonde, a dark shirt resting over a pair of ripped jeans, and with his fingernails painted black. every girl turned and glanced, and only realized it was eddie kaspbrak after a double take. he didn't care about those glances or the glares from the boyfriends of the girls who stared at him. all he was worried about was how you would think of him and his new look. 

the other six members of the club knew of his crush on you for years. even richie was jealous when you joined the group but that evaporated when the three of you became the inseparable trio. you had a teasing sibling bond with richie, who always made you laugh at his new jokes. though with eddie, it was anything but platonic.

you and eddie weren't exactly just friends but it wasn't labeled as any kind of relationship either. when you hung out at the houses of the other members for movie nights, he always sat next to you and cuddled. or at parties, he stood behind you the whole time with his arms wrapped around your waist and chin resting on the top of your head.

what the losers really questioned was when you all hung out and why two friends held hands in public. they didn’t even know that you also kissed his cheek when he walked you home. though a couple of times, eddie’s cheek accidentally turned and you ended up kissing him on the lips instead. neither you or eddie broke wanted to break the kisses at first and almost always continued it for a good moment or two. 

unfortunately for either of you, the kisses were never talked about. this because of the constant anxiety over potentially ruining the friendship. then again it was eddie. you were comfortable with him and knew he wouldn't hurt you or go behind your back.

some days you subtly watched him (or so you thought) when he was talking, smiling, or laughing, and you wondered if he was your soulmate. richie and beverly would catch you staring and see how much your eyes shined while gazing at him. it was a weird limbo that you've constantly tangoed with him for the past year and a half. neither wanting to overstep but constantly doing it anyway without realizing. 

it was almost like the two of you were meant to be and everything was easy. eddie knew you like the back of his hand. his very attractive hands that were covered with rings now. holyshit.

when he found you, you were going through the books in your locker. he walked up to you and slipped his arm around your waist. you smelled his cologne and leaned back into his chest, smiling that he was in your presence. eddie leaned around your side to peck a quick kiss on your cheek and that's when you noticed the blonde from the corner of your eye.

you turned around so quickly that eddie thought it gave you whiplash. you didn’t let the quick dizziness bother you and instead put your fingers through his hair. he let out a small groan at how good the small massage was and bent his knees so he could come down to your level. eddie was face to face with you and he could easily make out how memorized you were by his curls. "oh my god eds!" when you finally let go, he frowned. “is that good or bad?” he laughed nervously.

eddie grabbed your hand back from when you placed it at your side and interlocked your fingers with his. you looked down at your joined hands and curled your fingers around his tightly to give a good squeeze of reassurance and he calmed instantly. “definitely good eds, definitely.” eddie smiled sheepishly and blushed in return from your acknowledgement.

the other six members of the loser’s club stood down the hall and could see how red his cheeks were by the close proximity. "he’s lapping it up." stan rolled his eyes and spoke up to break the silence from the group watching you and eddie converse. “o-oh shu-ut it,” bill instantly knew stan was jealous that he wasn’t getting any attention from his boyfriend. the stuttering eighteen-year-old put his arm around the curly blonde-haired that he loved and it hushed him. bill smirked and watched him blush when he kissed stan’s cheek.

richie looked around at the other couples and realized he and mike were the only single one’s left. at least he hadn’t taken a ‘vow’ of celibacy like stan suggested he should do. “you think y/n will put in a good word for me with sonia when she finally gets with eddie?” richie asked and patted mike’s back which he swatted right off of him. 

beverly retrieved the purse from her locker and unzippered it to grab her chapstick. she looked over at the other’s and mumbled in response. “define finally because that could be tomorrow, a week from now, or even years at this rate.”

and that’s how it went the next couple of weeks. you and eddie would take two steps forward and then two steps back. it was a constant annoyance and the bet between the other’s grew higher every day. richie bet all of his paycheck from the arcade that he now worked at and beverly bet a couple bucks from her work at the movie theater. even bill chimed in and bet some of money he earned from the drawings that he sold to a store down in town. it was complete chaos and yet the two of you were still oblivious.

or so the other’s thought, while the eight of you were at a party now. you and eddie were both a little tipsy from drinking earlier and he was dancing rather closely with you. your small hands were placed around his neck and fingers once again laced throughout his hair. 

he held your sides delicately and his rings glistened when they hit the light. eddie's smile was infectious and every time without fail when you looked at him, you caught yourself and looked down with flushing cheeks. what the hell is happening? why does this feel different than any other time?

finally, after the third time of you doing this, he smirked knowing the effect he had on you and took one of his hands from your waist. the blonde placed his finger on the bottom of your chin and tilted your head up slowly. your eyes widened when they reached his and you tried turning but he held your gaze firm. “what’s the matter sweetheart?” he inquired so casually as if you weren’t trying to squeeze your thighs together. 

his brown eyes stared into yours, a unique shade that he always claimed was his favorite color. as he waited for your reply he glanced down and took in your outfit. he admired the way your dress hugged your curves in just the right places. you swallowed nervously at how close in contact you were and the fact you felt like he was looking right into your soul. even though you knew it that belonged with his from the start of your friendship. 

other people in school always talked in the hallways about how they thought you were soulmates and even about lying. they thought you were actually together but in denial with telling everyone because of how much you and eddie always clung to each other. like right now, you danced with him and watched as he took in a glimpse of you while feeling like your whole body was on fire. “nothing’s wrong eds, promise.”

mike and stan stood off to a corner and waited for bill and richie to bring them back drinks. beverly and ben were in their own little bubble dancing a few feet away from you and eddie. mike watched beverly and ben dance then looked at the two of you, raising an eyebrow in stan’s direction. “what’s up with them?” the curly haired one looked away from mike to see you two dancing then back at him, rolling his eyes and taking the drink from bill’s hand. “i think the bet is ending tonight.”

richie dumped back his beer and input his own comment about the current topic. “hell yes! then i’m one step closer to being off the market.” he snickered but fell quiet when a girl walked by and left a lingering smell of peach fragrance behind. “b-beep beep richie!” bill nudged the trashmouth who only escalated his behavior and risked bumping into irritable stan’s shoulder.

thankfully bill’s boyfriend simply brushed it off but by doing that quite literally so, which caused richie to wholeheartedly laugh at the dramatics. trashmouth put his red cup in the area towards your direction, signaling for the others to look and they nodded. shit eating grins were on each of their faces and for once, everybody was in agreeance.

eddie glanced over at the four and shook his head. you followed his movement and chuckled at richie being over the top as usual. “want to get out of here?” he asked. it was common for the two of you to sneak off and be in your own little world with him. you smiled and let go of his neck and held out your hand for him to take. he grasped onto it and let you lead him out from the small crowd in the living room.

ten minutes later, you were sitting on eddie’s bed in his temporary room at richie’s house. you grabbed his hand and played around with the rings on his fingers. one of them caught your eye and he noticed, making a mental note to give it to you later. “so, what did you mean by the comment earlier?” you asked and cursed at the twinkle in the blonde’s eye. he gripped your side to pull you closer and your breath hitched when he leaned into the crook of your neck. 

eddie placed a feather-like kiss onto the sweet spot of your shoulder and instant goosebumps appeared all over your soft skin. you cleared your throat before you could let yourself talk incoherently. eddie grinned into your skin before looking up at you and you almost fainted at the dazed look. whispering hoarsely, you asked him, “are you sure?”

eddie nodded and that was all you needed to lean into his kissable lips. he put his hand on your cheek and moved in closer. you moaned when his tongue touched yours and he smirked. your teeth clunked with his when you roughly gripped the blonde strands on the nape of his neck. he broke apart from your lips and moved to push your shirt up, which you helped in doing and then greeted his lips again for another rough kiss. eddie palmed your perfectly molded chest and you let out a whine.

he chuckled and kissed your neck and then slowly made his way down. eddie started at the middle of where your breasts met and you shivered when his warm breath touched you. “you have no idea how-” kiss. “long,” kiss. “i’ve, kiss. “wanted,” kiss. “to,” kiss. “do,” kiss. “this,” kiss.

your body practically spasmed at the euphoria feeling of him worshipping your body. he unclipped your bra and kissed the top of your left and right breasts. moving down more, he also kissed the middle of your stomach and on each side of your waist as he slid down your ripped shorts. it was when you felt like you could orgasm from just that alone when he kissed the inside of your thighs.

“ok, ok eds. i think we’ve waited long enough!” you tried to hold on his hair to get him up from his position and for him to quicken the movements but, the smug bastard ducked at your attempt. eddie knew what he was doing when he slowly slid down your panties. he slipped a finger over your folds and you groaned when you knew that eddie now knew how easily he turned you on.

“this all for me sweetheart?” you rolled your eyes, a classic stan move but it was ruined when you smiled embarrassingly. “no eds. sorry it’s for richie.” he glared playfully at you and pulled his shirt up and off in a seductive way that shut you up instantly. holyshit. when did he start working out? he unbuttoned his pants and shoved them down, stepping out of them. your mouth watered at the sight of him after he took off his boxers.

he admired the sight of you all spread out for him then climbed back over on top of you. your skin tingled when his finger tip brushed inside your body. “so pretty, sweetheart.” eddie kissed you again with everything he had and you melted into him when he fingered faster. you felt how hard and ready he was for you when you pressed up into him after he angled and curled two fingers inside of you. he swallowed your gasps at the feeling of him continuously hitting your g-spot. “please.” you whined into his mouth. 

he looked at you and how pretty you were, which you could say the same about him but there wasn’t enough time to do so when you felt him lining up and pressing against you. eddie pushed inside of you slowly at first. it was almost painful but it stopped when you grabbed his hair and begged for him to go faster. he grabbed your wrists and put them above your head and quickened his pace inside you. 

you babbled and chanted his name when his hips hit yours harshly. eddie leaned down to kiss your shoulder and grinned wolfishly at the way you looked. “you look so pretty like this, y/n. vulnerable and breathless under me. such a good girl.” it was so overwhelming and attractive that you gripped him in a vice at the comment. it was still baffling at the fact that your best friend was fucking you. “i bet richie couldn’t fuck you like this.” you looked at him with widened eyes but didn’t deny the comment so he continued going. 

“you’re my dirty girl, aren’t you?” he wanted a response so he grabbed a big section of your hair and tugged. you nodded as he slammed into you repeatedly and you could feel a bundle in your belly working you up. eddie scooted closer in between while moving himself inside and out of you and kneeled in between your legs. he smirked at your helpless look and pushed your legs apart even further to spread them open for him. 

he looked down at you on display just for him and he moved his hand to position it down and on top of your clit. he flicked it once before rubbing and you gasped. seconds later after a few more pumps inside of you is when you released all over him with him closely following. he looked down at you with a blissful face and kissed your puffed lips that were smeared with red lipstick. eddie collapsed next to you on the side of the bed and turned on his side to look at you.

the sight of you still took his breath away. even with the smeared lip stick and messy hair. he desperately wanted to make you his.“i hope it wasn’t too much?” you poked eddie’s side at his question and he laughed. “no way eds, it was perfect.” you smiled. he cupped your face and looked into your eyes. “i know it’s kind of past asking but do you want to be my girlfriend y/n/n/?”

the next morning, you were in your boyfriend’s arms and holding a mug of coffee in your hands. the two of you broke apart at the sound of a door shutting and of course, richie appeared. he took in your appearance with eddie’s arm wrapped dangerously low around your waist. you looked at the trashmouth who was wearing a wrinkly shirt, along with his hair being all disheveled and poking up in different directions. “long night?” you asked. he snickered and pointed at ed’s your shirt and in a cocky attitude retorted back at you. “more like great night but it looks like you did too.” richie quickly walked by before you had the chance to reply. he wanted to call the others about the bet money while changing for school. before he shut his bedroom door though, richie smirked at the question eddie asked you.

“is that peaches i smell?” you shook your head at ed’s question and his hold on you tightened at your mocking. he smiled at you when you leaned back into his arm and angled your head upwards for another kiss. who knew he could have his best friend and girlfriend all in one?

© babytortie on tumblr + wattpad.

[beauregard-s]

Take The Wheel (Richie Tozier x Reader)

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Reader (aged up)

Word Count: 3.8K

Warnings: NSFW. Sex, Oral (fem receiving), cursing and light dirty talking. Also mentions of alcohol.

Anon said:  “ alright for whatever reason I can only ever think of Richie concepts but that's okay he's my boy :0 Anyway, So like a Richie x Reader smut where Richie is teaching the reader to drive in an empty parking lot and he sits them in his lap so they're both in the drivers seat. And he gets a boner and then car sex boom that's the concept ”

A/n: I must say it’s some *chef’s kiss* concept. I really liked this one, and had a lot of Cigarettes After Sex’s help to write it lol. Hope I fulfilled your expectations, my dear anon.

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“Come on, doll, it’s your eighteen!”

“I already said no, Richie.”

It’s been years since you both realized you were too big to share the old hammock anymore, but you acted like it wasn’t an important detail. You and Richie had spent the afternoon laying there, he previously napping and now smoking a cigarette while you went through a thriller book Ben had lent you a couple weeks before and you were taking too long to return to him. 

Richie had his long hanging down, foot on the floor and here and there he’d swing you both from side to side, softly, in a way the had your eyelids fighting not to shut close. 

“What are you doing when I’m not around, then?” He teased once more, and it was enough for you to softly hit his ribs with your bare foot, since you two were so tangled in such little space that your legs rested by his sides.

“You’ll always be around, Trashmouth.”

“Maybe I won’t...” He blew smoke through his parted lips when you shoot a look, narrowing your eyes at him from over the book. The little lopsided smile he had made your insides tingle. 

Next week you’d turn eighteen and, until present days, you had not learned how to drive. That’d be a result of very strict and overprotective parents, alongside a not so irrational - in your thoughts -, but for sure overscaled fear of taking the steering wheel. 

Usually, Richie was the one driving you around on his beat-up truck, blasting Tears For Fears, an arm slung out of his window. Sometimes it was Stan or Bill, Mike and Ben were busier but they were always down to give you a ride if you needed it. Beverly was a heckin' reckless driver, but she was the one who usually took you shopping and even Eddie had rebelled against Sonia Kaspbrak to get his license. 

You were the last “baby” among the grown-ups.  

“Come on, y/n, I can teach you. I’m the best driver-”

“Stan is the best driver,” you corrected.

“Stan is bullshit!” he went, now pointing at you with his lit cigarette. “And you shall never say such fallacy again.”

You laughed his fake offended tone off, but, yeah, he was right. Stan could be the most prudent one, but he was too prudent even for your coward standards. Richie was, indeed, the best driver. Reckless, but not too reckless at the point of almost run over people on the street - like Bev did at least a couple times -, also he was surprisingly skilled, but had some worrisome courage, for sure. And he had got a few speed tickets, yeah, but he always knew what he was doing. 

Those facts, plus the way he kept looking and expecting at you made you roll your eyes and break.

“Fine, Tozier,” it was enough for his smile to widen up “but don’t blame me if I shove your car through a wall or something.”

He laughed and tickled your feet by his side, what made you jump on your place and kick him harder than the last time, earning a grunt of pain from him.

“Don’t worry, toots. I got you.”

**

It was an empty and probably abandoned parking lot behind the library. What on Earth could go wrong?

That was exactly what you thought when Richie set things up the last day, but, now, when you looked blankly at his truck parked there, with its doors opened, just waiting for you, it didn’t seem such a good idea anymore.

“Richie...” 

“No fucking way, doll, it’s the tenth time you call out for my name, not that I’m complaining.”

You threw him a pissed look, but of course it wouldn’t do any harm on those mocking eyes of his. But you looked better at Richie, right there under the golden hour light. His dark curls messed by his fingers and by the breeze that gently hit you, glasses always full of fingerprints on its lenses, but not hiding his narrowed eyes due to the clarity. He seemed more freckled than ever.

All of that made you tingle inside, again. Had been like that for a while now, and every time it’d happen, every time you’d feel that weird sensation, you’d just turn away from his view, not that bold to face whatever it was.

“Come on, toots, it won’t bite you! Let’s go!”

He placed his hand on the small of your back, gently pushing you to the driver’s side. You hopped onto the seat and Richie was so damn tall you felt you were miles away from the wheel and couldn’t even dream about reaching the pedals. He helped you adjust the seat to your height and ran around the car while you buckled your safety belt. 

“Fasten your belt.” You enjoined, the second he closed his door and looked up at you with expectation.

“For God’s sake, y/n, we’re just driving around the lot,” he scoffed, and you rolled your eyes. “Easy now. It’s no big deal, come on, start the car.”

Maybe you’d be able to focus and make your legs stop shaking, but Richie’s hand reaching for your thigh to supposedly soothe you down didn’t make it possible. And he stayed just like that when you turned the keys and the truck roared.

“Okay, now let’s switch the gear and loosen the handbrake...”

You had no idea of the amount of work involving getting a car to move. Richie kept instructing you and, for your disbelief, yes, he was a good teacher. He was clear as water when he told you what to do, and his voice went down to a soft and patient tone that made the tingling feeling hit you wave after wave. But even like that, you couldn’t put the thing on the road. The engine kept dying and you just weren’t coordinated enough to get it to move.

Richie and you switched places and he tried to teach you through visuals, letting you watch him as he drove around. And you really tried to. You focused on his hands but you wouldn’t absorb his moves. You’d just absorb how he firmly gripped onto the wheel and how skilled he moved the gear around. You tried to learn from his feet pressing the pedals, but your eyes would trail up to his sculpted side profile in the fading, cold light. How his lips looked soft, talking to you and dictating how you’d have to switch the gear every time the engine roared in en specific pleading way.

But you were fucking drooling over how handsome Richie Tozier was.

Before you had a chance to actually start paying attention to the mechanisms, he stopped the car like it all was the easiest thing. “See? Just like learning how to ride a bicycle.”

You tittered, not sure if you couldn’t keep up with all the steps on properly driving because there were a lot of them, or only because you just could take your eyes off Richie himself. 

“I don’t know... I mean, I think I just can’t coordinate enough,” you shrugged.

He shushed you immediately.

“No fucking way! You’re learning how to drive, and I’m teaching you, doll!” he raised his brows, his determination making you laugh again. Richie bit down his lip for a while, sitting sideways on the seat so he could face you.

“Do you want to sit on my lap, then? So I can help you?”

You slowly raised a brow and your brain sent off the red alert with a neon sign of “bad idea”.

“How messed up could this be?” You sneered.

“Not messed up at all, that’s actually how I first learn how to drive,” he smirked.

“Richie, you were ten, and no, pretending you’re driving isn’t learning how to drive,” you laughed.

You remembered that story very well, how Mr. Tozier would put Richie on his lap while driving around safe places when he was a little boy. But now this was a whole, dissimilar situation. 

Richie rolled his eyes, leaning in towards you, and you swore you were all hooded eyes at him. 

“Come on, doll, just like the truck, I won’t bite you.”

The red alert in your head went off even louder, but, still, with him that close and with the evening’s darkness engulfing both of you, your lips had a different plan than your mind.

“Okay...” it was what scaped through them.

And the way Richie smiled at that answer warmed your heart beyond what was acceptable. 

You unbuckled your belt as he pushed his seat back and even like that, fitting in between him and the wheel was a difficult task. You propped yourself up from the passenger seat, passing a leg over the gearstick to sit it between his. You both were a mess of legs and arms.

“Okay, toots, careful now-fuck!”

“Holyshit, Richie, did I hit you?”

“No, just my thigh. Big Richie’s okay...”

“I hate you.”

You managed to settle down to his lap, not too comfortably, but enough to access everything around you. To feel all of him beneath you.

“No way, sugar, you love me,” he whispered from behind, very close to your ear.

With a simple turn of neck, you could see Richie over your shoulder, and there was where he rested his chin. He took your left hand and placed it on the wheel, under his own. Your right hands together met the gear stick. 

“I’m starting the car now,” he warned. His hand left yours just for a moment, and his truck roared again. It vibrated slightly and that way you couldn’t help to friction down against Richie’s lap.

You thought you felt him stiffening up, but soon enough his hand was back over yours and he helped you switching the gear. 

“Now can I speed up?” You asked, trying your best to don’t look back at him, or else your lips would almost touch.

“Yeah, slowly. And keep those beautiful eyes on the road, toots.”

You did as he told you, slowly pressed your foot down the accelerator, and the truck slowly and finally left its spot under your riding.

You couldn’t help but smile. It was something really childish to do, but it was unconscious. Richie kept his right hand over yours, helping you through the gears correctly, his left one was supposed to guide the wheel with you, but as soon as he heard your giggles he let go, his arm resting lazily on his open window.

You only sped up to an acceptable speed to keep during a parking lot training, but it was enough for a breeze to blow through the open windows. You felt somehow proud, even if you have been strolling for five minutes in circles behind the library. You didn’t even notice Richie letting go of the bare control he had, but you were pretty aware of his hands falling down to rest on your thighs.

And you were pretty aware of the forming hardness underneath you. You could feel him, and every time you made a turn your hips would be dragged around due to physics causes you never understood while in high school. Every time that happened you could hear Richie sighing really close to your neck.

His thumbs traced circles against the skin of your thighs, right where it met the hem of your skirt. You were already relaxed back against him by now.

“I’m so sorry, toots...” You heard both a certain embarrassment, but also some guts in his voice. He was also pretty aware of what was happening, but you wondered if he was aware of the growing heat inside your chest, and the wetness inside your panties.

Or if he was aware of the way you “helped” physics by dragging your hips down onto his.

“Don’t be, Rich.” You muttered.

His hands went for yours again, and his feet took the place yours once had. Richie himself stopped the car and as soon as he turned the motor down you noticed how silent it was because he didn’t turn on the radio earlier, probably because he didn’t want to distract you.

But he ended up doing way more than that.

It was starting to get dark, maybe a little too dark. Dark in a level that’d be perfect to do hidden things and they’d remain safe under its cover. Maybe that was why you felt it was safe enough to turn your body slightly to the side, just enough to face Richie, and you two kissed in the dim light.

No words needed, not a single trace of hesitation because you both knew you'd been aching for this for a long time now. You parted your lips under his tongue insistence within time, tried to fought him for dominance. Absurdly unsuccessful that was. Richie had a hand through your hair, slightly pulling it so you couldn’t turn your face away from him. Little did he know you wouldn’t do that anyway. 

He was the one who pulled away after a while. You could tell he was smirking, eyes on yours, and then down to check on your already slightly kiss-bruised lips. He leaned in then, his nose softly brushing all the way up your neck, sending goosebumps through your spine just so he could talk lowly in your ear.

“I want you in the backseat, y/n/n.” 

You didn't know if it was how he sounded deep, or how he called you by the nickname that only he’d call you, nothing generical, but he made you whimper untouched. You just nodded and Richie pushed you off his lap gently, helping you to pass through the front seats.

You didn’t think car sex was comfortable at all, having experienced it in other guys’ sedans, but Richie’s car got some valuable space. It was enough for you to be dragged into Richie’s lap without your head bumping into the ceiling, as soon as he joined you there, kissing you as his life depended on it.

Richie smelled like smoke and tasted like mint chapstick and cola, and the way he held you so tightly against him was driving you insane alone. Slowly the darkness was taking over and you couldn’t see much of him, but you could feel him everywhere. Hands on your hips and crawling up your sides, underneath your top inch by inch. You couldn’t help to grind your hips down against his, earning yourself a low grunt every time you did that.

It was happening, and you couldn’t believe it. Richie and you've been friends over the time, but you’d be lying if you said you never looked at him in a messed up way, here and there. Mainly when you’d get drunk together in parties and he started to get extra flirty towards your horny self. And now, what you have fantasized about was happening.

“I want you down on me so bad...” You moaned.

You widened your eyes because it wasn’t meant to escape your lips like that. But it did and made Richie pull away from the spot he had been kissing on your neck, looking up at you.

You expected him to laugh or scoff, but he raised a brow slightly, lips curving in a way that had your legs weak.

“Don’t ask me twice, doll.” He mumbled.

Richie held you by your thighs before pushing you down to the seat. You propped yourself up to rest your back against the side of the car, ready to push shoes and clothes off, but he got different plans. Richie made his best to fit properly in between your legs, hands pushing your skirt up so it was lumping around your waist.

With no warning, Richie just pulled your panties down your legs, taking them off skillfully and shoving them in his pocket. With a smirk, he leaned himself down on you, drawing a bold lick all the way up from your slit to your clit.

You moaned louder than would be safe. Just the vision of Richie in between your thighs like that was enough to make you purr like a kitten, but the way he kept his eyes up just to watch what he was doing to you was top-shelf.

His hands were on your thighs, keeping you as spread for him as the space allowed, tongue flicking through your wet folds. And the motherfucker dared to hum against you.

“Fuck, y/n/n... How can you taste so good, doll?”

Your chest weaved up and down as you panted, a complete moaning mess. Your hands went for Richie’s curls, messing them up even more as he took turns closing his eyes to savor you, and then looking up at your blank pleasured face.

“Richie...” You cried out.

He pulled away for a second, thumb still rubbing circles on your clit to keep your pace.

“What, babe, are you gonna cum for me?”

You did. As soon as he reattached his lips to your heat again, you came by his mouth only.

Richie smirked satisfied at the way your legs were shaking and your eyes shut closed, still lazily licking you down your high, and as soon as your breath calmed down he was sitting back up, pulling you into his lap again, holding you so close you lost your breath.

When you and Richie kissed again, you could still taste yourself on his lips. Your hands fumbled with his jeans, unbuckling it quickly because you needed more of him. He groaned at your eager manners, immediately bucking his hips up so you could pull his pants and underwear down to his thighs.

“Holy fuck, Richie...”

You couldn’t hold it back when you looked down at his cock, fully hard for you. Richie didn’t praise himself for nothing. You felt like some stupid depraved girl, but Richie seemed to like it judging by the melodic laugh he let out. A laugh that quickly turned into a deep moan when you took him in your hands, pumping slowly.

The way Richie’s mouth hung opened when he breathed out heavily and the sounds that came outta there made you clench around nothing. You didn’t delay much before aligning yourself over him, slowly lowering your hips.

Richie cursed out loud, hands gripping onto your waist for his life as he threw his head back. Now you were the one observing how his chest went up and down fast, how he licked his lips with eyes closed in bliss. You had all of him inside you, every inch. He was stretching you out, yes, but he felt too good filling you up like that.

Richie finally looked at you, all hooded eyes and hands going for your shirt. He lifted the fabric enough to expose your breasts, mumbling something about loving that you didn’t wear a bra much often before attaching his lips to your nipple.

Your hands on his shoulders for support must have squeezed too tightly, but he didn’t seem to notice it under the loud moans you gave him. Richie’s lips slid from a breast of yours to the other, taking a time to kiss the valley between them.

“Ride me, doll...” He softly demanded, and you did.

You held tightly onto him when you started to bounce up and down very slowly, trying to adjust to him, but as soon as you picked up your pace the previously silent and dark truck was filled with both your moans. Richie was loud and it was something you expected and now his hoarse groans only drove you closer to your high.

He gave you a hickey on your breast, right before his lips escalated to kiss and mark your neck as well.

“How good you feel around me, y/n/n...”

You melted more in his arms every time he'd fill you up, every little nibble he’d plant on the sweet spot of your neck. You felt your muscles tensing, clenching tightly around Richie’s cock right before you came undone once again.

As soon as you reached the peak, your loud moans were muffled by Richie’s hungry lips on yours. When your legs went numb, he kept thrusting up into you, hands grabbing handfuls of your ass until he came.

Richie came moaning into your mouth, while you drifted away from your orgasm and your fingers caressed back the curls that covered his face. You could barely see him by now, but the few traces you could discern made you smile numbly.

Holy shit. You were in love.

You fucked Richie in his car, and now you were in love.

No, you’ve been in love with him for a long time but only now, when the facts were spread right in front of your eyes, you admitted it. Only now, feeling the numerous small kisses he was spreading all over your shoulder and collarbone, and how his cold hands cupped your breasts gently, only now you admitted it.

Things were silent for a while, while Richie had his face buried against the crook of your neck and you still cockwarmed him. You didn’t want to leave him, you were afraid that as soon as you put yourself together, he’d check you out off his hook up list and drag you back to the friend zone.

“I fucking love you, y/n/n.”

You still breathed heavily when he whispered that, but you immediately felt like your lungs stopped working.

You pushed Richie away from you, making him look at your face in the dark, although you could only see the little reflection of his glasses.

“What the hell did you just say?”

“Nothing, I-Shit...”

“Richie.” You were serious, and that made him bite down his lips, thinking he had messed things up with you.

“I’m fucking in love with you, doll.”

You kissed him.

The second he finished that phrase you took his face in your hands and kissed him. A long, slow, and breathtaking kiss.

Richie’s arms wrapped around your waist and his glasses were for sure getting dirtier touching your face, but he didn’t care about it and nor did you.

Only your lips parted away a few moments later, but you kept your foreheads together, eyes closed and hearts going a mile a minute.

“I’m fucking in love with you too, Trashmouth” you mumbled.

You smiled in a cheesy way and somehow you knew he was doing the same.

“Although you’re a bad a drive instructor who ends up fucking your learner”

“Shut up, y/n.”

You laughed together and Richie hugged you against him. That was for sure a not recommend spot to be parked at that hour, but none of you minded that. He was still inside you and you'd keep him like that for at least some moments more because you needed your legs to stop trembling and you also needed to feel more of him against you like that.

"Rich..." You furrowed your brows lightly, curled into his chest. "Where the fuck are my panties?"

He chuckled.

"They are safe, toots. And, by the way, those are mine now."

[ticklishraspberries]

Little Bill (Bill, Richie)

Summary: Richie teases Bill about his height. (Happy holidays everyone! Here’s my Squealing Santa fic for...*drumroll*...@fanficsandfluff!!! I hope you enjoy your fic, and thank you for hosting this year, @ticklygiggles!! Also, let’s pretend the losers don’t forget each other when they get older, that’s the universe this takes place in.)

There was a bit of an unplanned reunion going on. It had been a few years since Bill had taken off to London to write, and the rest of the Losers had spread out across the map, too. They kept in touch, but none of them were all too well versed in all the new technology that sprung up as they aged, and with all their busy schedules, it was rare they got a chance to hang out in person.

But now, Bill and Richie’s paths have crossed, an award show that Richie was asked to present at, and one of Bill’s books had been adapted into a film that was up for an award that evening. Bill hadn’t won, but he and Richie met up after the event and went back to Richie’s hotel, drinking beers and catching up.

“How the fuck did you turn out so tiny, Big Bill? Or, should we start callin’ you Little Bill, now?” Richie asked, words slightly slurred as a goofy grin spread across his face.

Bill rolled his eyes. “Beep beep, Richie.”

“No, I’m serious. You were always the tallest when we were kids, now you’re just...I mean, even Eds got taller than you!”

Bill had never been too insecure about his height. He was still pretty decent looking if he said so himself, and he still managed to score a wife who was pretty enough for the big screen, so he had to be doing something right, huh? To put it plainly, it wasn’t really bothering him that Richie brought it up, he was just playing along.

“Man, I bet even Bev would tower over you in a nice pair of heels, dude,” Richie teased, a shit-eating grin spread across his stubbled face. He accompanied the words with a tweak to Bill’s side, causing Bill to jerk away.

Richie’s eyes lit up behind coke-bottle glasses. “Still ticklish, Big—Pardon me, Little Bill?”

Bill’s cheeks flushed. “Christ, Richie, you’re still annoying as ever.”

“You didn’t answer the question,” Richie replied, and didn’t wait for an answer before latching onto Bill’s side and squeezing.

Oh, how the tables had turned since childhood.

Being the only loser with a little sibling, Bill had the most experience tickling other people to pieces, and Richie had been brought to a snorting, teary-eyed mess by Bill more times than he could count.

Although Richie didn’t have much of a problem with being tickled half to death, it was still fun to get a bit of revenge. Especially since Richie had gotten quite tall and arguably strong as he aged, so it was easy to keep Bill subdued enough to find all those ticklish spots that were suddenly coming back to him.

“Rich!” Bill cried, trying and failing to bat Richie away.

“Yes?” Richie replied innocently, grabbing hold of one of Bill’s thighs and squeezing.

He remembered that being quite a good spot, and wasn’t disappointed by the squeal that left his friend, and it made Richie laugh along.

“Please, st-stop!”

“Aw, does getting tickled make your stutter come back, Billiam?” Richie asked.

Bill huffed between his high-pitched giggling. “Shut up!” he spit out, if just to prove Richie wrong.

“Ooh, small but mighty!”

“Rich, please, I-”

“Oh, alright, you big baby,” Richie replied with a little roll of his eyes. “Wait, I mean...no, little baby doesn’t sound as good. It just sounds like you are, actually, a baby.”

“Beep beep, Richie,” Bill sighed, collapsing back against Richie’s mattress to catch his breath.

Richie’s smile turned from mischievous to fond as he laid back against the bed too, turning his head to face Bill. “I miss you guys,” he muttered, a little too drunk to care if he was getting sappy.

The annoyance on Bill’s face melted away easily, mostly because it had been over-exaggerated in the first place. “Yeah, I miss you too, Rich. We’ll have a proper reunion soon, hm? We can finally meet Patty in person, go out for a nice dinner.”

Richie nodded. “I’d love that. I know Eds would, too.”

“Keep your schedules clear for us, hm?”

“Will do, big...I mean, little Bill.”

“You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

“Never,” Richie grinned.

[kafka-ish]

the act of being a boy-friend | r.t.

y/n’s plan to make her crush, or ex crush, jealous backfires when she realizes she’s been the jealous one all along.

word count: 6.7k

warnings/included: fluff, losers aren’t friends anymore, fem!reader

a/n: i just rlly love writing love triangles hgeoigso also fake dating tropes ftw🥳

-

“What’s ruh-ruh-wrong? Juh-juh-hust tell me what I can do, and I’ll ff-fix it.” Bill sat next to y/n on his worn sofa. The two were watching a movie but he couldn’t put a pin on what was wrong until he noticed y/n wasn’t making her usual commentary. y/n always talked whenever they got together to watch a movie—either letting her petty remarks be known to the rest of the viewers or judging the style choice. And if she wasn’t talking, her face was stuffed full of popcorn or sour candy.

But y/n wasn’t doing either of those things.

She sat in a ball—her bare feet on his couch and her kneecaps digging into her stomach. Her eyes were wide and focused on the screen ahead of them that blared ET. Her nails that were in tip-top condition when she first showed up to Bill’s house, neatly trimmed and polished with a layer of topcoat were now bitten to the bed, ragged and raw.

“Why would you think something’s wrong?” y/n said, surprised that she was able to even squeak out the words after zoning out for so long. Something was wrong. But it wasn’t like y/n would tell him. This is what she wanted, right? Just the two of them—Bill’s arm wrapped around her while she pressed into his side while the only light in the room came from his television set.

So why did everything feel so wrong?

Richie and y/n had dated two months prior. Well… ‘dated’. The relationship wasn’t real, but the butterflies whenever Richie called her a dumb pet name or kissed her on the cheek (because kissing on the lips was too far) certainly felt real. And the heartbreak that came from him talking about other girls felt more real than the time y/n got stood up at the eighth-grade dance.

“I don’t wanna be your fuckin’ boyfriend,” Richie protested. His mouth was full of the turkey club sandwich he snagged from a detention buddy and his perfectly straight nose was now scrunched in disgust at the absurd idea his friend had to offer.

“I don’t get why you’re being so pissy about this.” y/n took the sandwich from him, taking a bite of her own and cringing at the taste of mustard that was hidden under the lettuce.

“Grow up.” Richie laughed at y/n who was using a napkin to wipe the tangy aftertaste off her tongue. “You know.” He took another bite. “This sorta shit never ends well.”

“What shit?” y/n prodded. She was still hooked on the idea of getting Richie to play house with her.

“The game where you and I pretend to be boyfriend and girlfriend and eventually one of us falls for each other.” Richie was taking an oddly rational approach to y/n’s suggestion. But Richie was logical in a sense where he just knew.

“Who says I’d fall for you?” y/n poked at his shoulder. One of her eyebrows raised because in what world would she let herself catch feelings for Richie Tozier?

In this world. In this lifetime, y/n would let herself fall for one of her best friends, only to be dating her longtime crush.

“How could you not?” Richie smirked but y/n could tell he was just joking. “I’m irresistible, love.” His stupid British-man Voice made yet another appearance and y/n had to refrain from hitting him.

“What about me?” y/n didn’t care whether or not Richie found her attractive, but to say his response never left her mind after that day would be an understatement.

“Well, just look at you.” Richie put the sandwich down. “If it’s anyone, I’ll be having a harder time.”

“So does that mean you’ll go through with it?” A new light hit y/n’s eyes; the sparkle almost blinding Richie who was shaking his head.

“I don’t get why you’re so hung up about this.” He sighed. y/n could tell he was getting annoyed, but y/n was also persistent. If she wanted something, she’d get it; careless about the lengths she’d have to go through for her fantasies to become a truth. Her truth.

“I’m just saying there are benefits for both of us.” y/n’s head tilted to the side, trying to get a better glimpse at Richie now gnawing at his lunch like an animal.

“Benefits?” Richie asked mid-bite.

“Yeah. I can make Bill Denbrough jealous and he’ll fall madly in love with me. Same for you and your ex.”

“Bill Denbrough?” Richie ignored the mention of his ex-girlfriend. He was fifty-percent sure he was already over her, but the other fifty percent of him still stole glances in her direction and kept a copy of her school picture in his wallet. But Bill Denbrough? y/n had a crush on the Bill Denbrough? Richie had to take a moment for his ears to adjust to this staggering news.

Bill Denbrough was a baseball player and Richie’s old childhood friend. Him, Bill, Stan Uris (who was coincidentally also on Derry’s baseball team), Mike Hanlon (who didn’t play baseball but football), Ben Hanscom (he was on the track team), Eddie Kaspbrak, and Beverly Marsh were all a group back in middle school. And Bill and Richie went way back—back to elementary school. It was until the end of freshman year when Stan tried out for baseball (Bill tagged along but made the team anyway) and Mike brought up how he wanted to go out for football next year.

Everyone’s interests started to diverge. Everyone started to diverge. They still went to Mike’s games at the beginning of their sophomore year, but their lunches together only seemed to happen on Wednesday and their afternoon hangouts at the quarry turned into just Richie smoking puffs on the edge; the only company being his portable radio.

Richie befriended y/n sophomore year, around the same time he and his friends fizzed out in January’s crisp air. He met her in his new art class when Derry High released students’ new schedules for the second semester. They’d stayed friends ever since; sharing their lunches and staying after school to finish up on a Social Studies project that wasn’t worth the grade they received. y/n was the one to comfort Richie after his breakup with Vanessa Jennings, but this was the first Richie had ever heard of y/n’s crush on Bill. He didn’t even know she knew Bill.

“You like Bill Denbrough?”

y/n nodded. “So, what do you say? Partner…”

Richie gave in. Although it wasn’t in his interest to get back with Vanessa, he’d still go along with y/n’s scheme.

He’d pick her up at her house before school at seven o’clock sharp—whether it was in his dad’s old Chevy or by foot in his red Converse.

y/n rushed to her front door as soon as she heard a ring. Her hair was half done, and she hadn’t had enough time to do her makeup yet. Luckily, she was already dressed in her school clothes—the denim of her jeans scuffing together when she walked, and her red blouse having to be pulled down every time she rose her arms.

“Morning, sugar.” Richie’s lazy grin and tired eyes never failed to bring a smile on her face even before they started ‘dating’. His hair wasn’t brushed at all, making y/n feel better about her appearance. His body leaned slanted against the doorframe while he waited for her and the white tip of his Converse made its attempt to dig into the porch.

“Sugar?” y/n asked, bemused. She grabbed her keys from the table next to the door, using them to lock the door behind her.

“You look different today.” y/n’s head raised from its once concentrated position from the lock on her door.

“Different how?” She inquired, mostly wondering if this difference was a good or bad thing.

“You look good.” y/n’s cheeks couldn’t help but heat at the compliment. Richie was always calling her cutesy names or saying shit like actually, now that my glasses are on, your ass does look good in those jeans. This should be no different, right?

It only felt different because they were… an item is what y/n convinced herself somewhere along the drive to school. Richie opened the door for her when she got in (and out), but in return, she’d have to let him play his favorite station.

“it’s only courtesy, babe.” Richie shrugged but his eyes kept on the road. “I scratch your back, you scratch mine.”

But two weeks in, y/n found out she liked what this rock ‘n roll guy had to offer. She liked the loud beat of the drum and how the guitar sang in her ears. She liked Richie’s voice that overpowered Elvis’s when he sang along to the lyrics, knowing every word by heart.

“I don’t get why you’re taking me anywhere,” y/n said. She sat in the passenger’s seat of his car like she usually did. “We don’t have to pretend unless we’re, like, in public.” Her voice became small, almost regretting the words that came out of her mouth. Secretly, she hoped Richie wouldn’t turn the 1965 Chevrolet Camaro around.

“It’s not like we aren’t friends.” Richie’s thumb made a tap, tap, tapping sound against the steering wheel. “Friends hang out, right?”

y/n smiled but didn’t answer. It never occurred to her that they weren’t dating. After a while, it just seemed so natural; the hand holding under lunch tables; the way he held her binder for her.

“Is that heavy, sweetheart?” Richie stood next to y/n, intently watching as she struggled with her books in one arm: her other hand turning the combination lock. His gaze never left her figure. He was thoughtful, caring…

“Kind of, but you don’t need to—”

Ignoring y/n, Richie took the books from her hold. He already had books of his own to carry, but he couldn’t let his girlfriend struggle with hers.

“Yeah… friends.” y/n couldn’t seem to face him while uttering the words. Friends. The declaration felt so distant. After all, they had been more than friends—or pretending to be more than friends. But at the end of the day, y/n didn’t know if she wanted to be just friends with Richie Tozier. That was new considering, she never saw Richie as something else. Something that greeted her with flowers before school and held open the door for her. Not until now, no. Richie was always… Richie.

Richie Tozier who was always caught doing his homework last minute in art—because that’s the easiest class, babe. Richie Tozier who liked detention because he could catch up on a few extra minutes of lost beauty sleep. Richie Tozier who stopped bringing his lunch to school because you’re the only sugar I need.

y/n rolled the window down, letting a breeze sweep through her hair and tickle her skin. She needed a distraction because the recent epiphany of the boy next to her being the reason for her heart palpitations was something to need a distraction from.

The sky bled orange and purple—the colors perfectly melted into one another—and y/n wondered if this wasn’t their world after all. Maybe they were being controlled and the puppeteer behind her was playing some sick joke by making her catch feelings for Richie Tozier. y/n didn’t even notice they came to a stop until the click of Richie’s seatbelt grabbed her ears from their trance.

“You comin’?” Richie asked from outside of her side of the car. He was hunched down, his forearm resting on the door to help prop him up.

“Yeah.” y/n swallowed but it hurt. It felt like acid ripped through her esophagus but the only thing she had to drink that day was water. She reached for the door handle, but Richie was faster, already opening the door himself. “Such a gentleman,” y/n snickered.

“Of course.” Richie stayed behind to lock the doors.

“So, you drove me, just a friend, all the way out to the best milkshakes in town?” y/n asked, eyeing the neon-lit sign that read

 Hwy 90

The highway to your stomach.

They served other things, but they specialized in milkshakes—something neither Richie nor y/n would care to pass up. But nothing y/n would drive thirty minutes for just for some glorified ice cream in a glass.

“It’s the least I could do.” Richie opened the door for y/n once again. The entrance door to the diner made a jingling sound as the top corner hit the bells which hung from the ceiling.

“The least you could do?” y/n wondered aloud, but Richie wasn’t given the chance to answer her question when a waitress scurried up to them, a stack of menus in one arm and a bundle of silverware in the other. She was taller than y/n but shorter than Richie and she wore black and white bowling shoes to match the wide-legged jeans and polo underneath her apron. “Is it just you two?” She asked sweetly, hiking the pile of menus up higher on her arm.

“Yeah,” Richie said. He stuffed his hands in his back pocket, not knowing where to put them.

The waitress showed them to a small booth that sat in the corner of the brightly lit restaurant. It was too bright for y/n’s eyes under the red, blue, and pink hues that reflected across the shiny white tile, But the corner table the girl had brought them to would do. There was a certain coziness to it, or maybe it was the thought of sitting so close to Richie in a public setting that settled y/n’s eyes.

“I’m Annie. I’ll be your server today,” the girl said as soon as Richie and y/n slid into their respective sides of the red pleather seats. She was fast-talking and all shades of nervousness as her left hand went to grab the number two pencil that fastened the blonde curls that were pinned in a knot on top of her head. “Can I get you anything?”

“A menu would be nice,” y/n said. In front of them sat a table, salt and pepper shakers, and a half-empty Heinz ketchup bottle. Annie had forgotten to give the two a menu.

“My apologies!” She exclaimed, bashful. She handed them each a menu to sift through.

“Don’t sweat it.” Richie winked in her direction and y/n felt herself grow… what was that? Anger? Annie’s pale skin blushed a bright red and y/n could tell it wasn’t the apron making her feel hot.

It took Richie a full-fledged thirty seconds and two skims through the laminated paper for him to decide what he wanted, and it took y/n at least two minutes. “I’ll have a Cookies n Cream. Extra sweet.” Just like you.

y/n was biting her thumb and still reading over the same three flavors that caught her eye while Annie stood patiently waiting for her response. Richie was messing with the saltshaker. His leg found hers under the table and gave it a quick kick.

“Ouch.” She looked up from the menu, averting her attention to the boy in front of her with a fix glare. “Can I have Vanilla? With a cherry on top?”

Annie scribbled down both of their orders in messy writing before making her way across the floor and to the kitchen.

“Vanilla?” Richie laughed and y/n didn’t know what was so funny. “’Cause you’re vanilla?” He covered his mouth with his hand before another fit of laughter would consume the table.

“Shut up.” Swiftly, y/n’s leg propelled into his which caused Richie’s laughs to die down, replaced by a single yelp.

“So…” Richie’s eyebrows wiggled. His nails, which were painted a shade of deep blue by y/n and already chipped, thumped against the surface of the table. y/n could tell whatever he was beginning to suggest wouldn’t be something she liked just from the tone of his voice.

“So?”

“Why Bill?” Oh.

“I don’t know what you mean.” She knew exactly what he meant.

“Why do you like ole Big Bill?” The nickname had slipped out unconsciously. The nickname Richie hadn’t heard in years. The nickname Richie hadn’t said in years. It felt exotic on his lips, but comforting, like a hug from his mom.

Why did she like Bill? y/n asked herself silently. She was gnawing on the inside of her cheek when the question popped up again and the sound of Bill’s voice startled her.

“What’s ruh-ruh-wrong? Juh-juh-hust tell me what I can do, and I’ll ff-fix it.” What was wrong? Seemingly, everything was perfect. The boy y/n had been crushing on for years was finally in her reach—her grasp, even. Bill’s head turned to face y/n, but his arm stayed tightly coiled around her side. It wasn’t the same as Richie’s possessive hold from two months ago. His hand that played with the fabric of her shirt felt cold. Bill felt cold.

It couldn’t be that she missed Richie, no. Richie was busy—probably swapping spit with one Vanessa Jennings. Vanessa with the light brown hair and curls that framed her not-too-big head ever so perfectly. Vanessa who never needed a tan. Vanessa with the long legs that were probably wrapped—

But it didn’t matter. y/n was busy, too. The Bill Denbrough was at her side and she couldn’t have asked for anything else. She didn’t need anything else. Not when his red flannel hugged her torso because are you could? My parents won’t let me turn up the heat, but I can offer you this. Like a gentleman, he proceeded to strip the flannel from his bodice, leaving him in a white baseball tee.

“Why would you think something’s wrong?” y/n looked at Bill then looked down to see the nails she had just painted were now ruined. She looked up again. “Nothing’s wrong,” she assured, not all convincingly.

“You just… yo-you ha-haven’t-t s-s-said anything since you cuh-cuh-walked in.”

“I haven’t?” y/n asked, now picking at the tip of her thumb, hoping what had taken two weeks to grow out would magically regrow in seconds. Saving his voice, Bill only shook his head.

“You nuh-know you can tuh-tell me. Ruh-right?” y/n nodded but what could she tell him?

Sorry I’ve been holding a massive crush on you for years like one holds a cleaver over their head but all of a sudden I’m into this guy I met in my art class who never brushes his hair and writes ‘smoking and smoking hot’ on his college resume.

“I think I’m just tired,” she lied while also feigning a yawn. She covered her mouth when it opened, pretending to be sleepy.

“Do-do you want me to tuh-take you home?” Bill asked. He was just as thoughtful as Richie. He was just as handsome as Richie, maybe even more. So why couldn’t y/n bring herself to like him as much as Richie? His arm left from her side and he used it to pick up the remote, turning the tv off. The worst part was, that when Bill’s hand stopped playing with the fabric of the flannel she wore and his arm left her frame, she didn’t feel a coldness that would usually wash over her when Richie’s arm left her. She felt free.

“I don’t want our afternoon to be spoiled,” y/n said. Her eyebrows furrowed and even though she knew she was lying through her teeth, she wanted to make this work. After all these years of pining for her study partner and favorite Derry High baseball player, she needed for this to work. To see the vision she’d created in her head, just a mere two years ago, collapse in front of her very eyes broke her. But at the same time, she was indifferent. Why should she care about the boy in front of her when the boy she actually wanted was a neighborhood away?

“Tr-trust me. It-it’s not.” Bill shrugged. He stood up and offered y/n his hand which she didn’t take. Instead, she sat there, planted in her same seat, waiting for him to continue. “I can tuh-take you home. And wuh-we can hang out to-tomorrow. You nuh-know when you’re well rested.” All of the sudden, this felt very real. Hanging out with Bill felt real. Being at his house felt real. And though his efforts were valiant, y/n couldn’t accept the offer.

A smile graced her lips and Bill mirrored that. “Yeah, okay. Uh, take me home—please.”

y/n stood up and Bill guided her to the door and to Zach Denbrough’s car as if she hadn’t had the place memorized from when she first came over for a History project they’d been assigned to do.

What did she ever see in him?

“I don’t know.” y/n’s shoulders bopped up and down and even though her figure was hunched, Richie still thought she looked graceful.

“Are you just sayin’ that or did you end up falling in love with little ole me and you can’t think of anything?” Just then, their milkshakes arrived. Both in frosted glass and both with a cherry on top. A feeling of relief swallowed the lump in her throat, or maybe that was the taste of vanilla ice cream now that she was given some time, and a reason, to stall. y/n hated how on-the-nose Richie could be. But she also loved that about him. He could be so, so unexpectedly smart about some things. Things that were right in front of her that she’d never even notice until Richie pointed it out. “Oh, come on.” Richie’s words would’ve sliced through the silence in the air if it weren’t for the chatter of other people and jukebox playing in the background. “Seriously, y/n/n, there’s gotta be something that drew you to him.”

“Well… he’s nice.”

“Okay cut the crap.”

“What?” y/n asked, finding herself annoyed that she not only had to reveal her feelings to a boy she may or may not like but also because he’s nice apparently wasn’t a sufficient enough answer.

“I need an actual answer. Not some bullshit response like he’s nice or he’s funny. Anyone can be nice or funny, y/n.”

“Well, whether you like it or not, Bill is nice. He’s genuine, and cares about the people around him… Selfless.”

Richie was upset at her response. Not because y/n countered his argument in a way he was left speechless but because she was right. Bill was the nice guy and Richie… wasn’t. Bill was the one who looked out for others, making sure they were okay. He was the one who made sure no one got left behind. He was the one everyone looked up to—not Richie, Bill. It was always Bill. Whereas Richie’s just the guy who stands in the background making funny noises only to be told to shut up.

“Yeah… Bill is nice.”

“Don’t tell me you’re my competition, Tozier.” y/n laughed at the oddity of fighting with Richie for the chance to be with Bill.

“Nah,” Richie shook his head, his hair flying in any direction possible. “You’re lucky I’m not, though. You wouldn’t have the chance, babe.”

y/n wanted to eat her heart out at the usage of babe in such an informal setting where they didn’t have to pretend, but the maraschino cherry resting on top of the pile of whipped cream would suffice. “Do you still like Vanessa?” The words tumbled from y/n’s mouth like they were nothing. But embarrassment replaced the blood flowing through her veins once she was aware of what she just said.

“It’s… complicated,” Richie said honestly, not caring that y/n might’ve crossed boundaries just then.

“What’s complicated?” y/n cocked her head like a puppy questioning why its master was making weird hand motions.

“You’ll understand when you’re older, kid.” Richie didn’t mean to come off as condescending, but he did.

“I’m the same age as you.” y/n crossed her arms after pushing away the half-empty, frosted glass in front of her.

Ignoring the red straw in his drink, Richie brought the edge of the glass to his lips and swallowed the thick shake. “Here’s the thing. Vanessa and I go way back.”

“How far is way back if you only dated her for four months?” y/n regretted even bringing her up. Maybe it was different back then, back when the two were actually dating. But now, y/n couldn’t remember a time when someone said the name ‘Richie Tozier’ and her heart didn’t feel like it would explode into a collision of fireworks.

“Four and a half,” Richie corrected with a grin breaking out on his lips. “But I dunno. She’s just special.”

“Special as in…?” y/n probed, and she hated herself for her big mouth that wouldn’t stop applying lemon juice to an obviously open wound.

“I love her.” Richie took another drink of Cookies n Cream, which was more cream than cookies, and y/n sat there in shock. She would be silly to think that after all these weeks, Richie would feel the same way about her. After all, he had a life outside of the fake one they’d construed. Or maybe Richie was just less emotionally confined to these sorts of things. He knew better than to get caught up in a fake relationship. Of course he would.

But knowing Richie still loved his ex, struck something in y/n’s core. And the fact that he was able to say it in such a nonchalant manner—such casualty—only dug deeper at the pit in her stomach.

“You love her?” y/n asked, her mouth still full of the sweet treat he’d pay for later in the evening.

“Love. Loved.” Richie shrugged like this was nothing—well, maybe this was nothing. Maybe y/n was the speck of dust on his shirt and him shrugging was the last of her existence from his being leaving. “What’s the difference?”

“There’s a big difference.” y/n wanted to scream. Luckily, she had enough self-perseverance to keep her composure. She swallowed. “One is past tense, and one is present tense.”

“How ‘bout I put it this way.” Richie set aside his drink so now nothing was blocking his view of y/n. He leaned forward and rested his hands on the table. “I don’t like…” He paused. Revealing that he had no intention in getting back with his once first love would possibly wreck this whole thing. “If Vanessa asked, I’d probably get back with her,” Richie finally said, thinking that must’ve been a suitable way to word the jumble of letters floating around in his head like alphabet soup.

“You would?” y/n asked, feeling like a little kid all over again.

Richie didn’t say anything.

“Do you and her still…”

“Still what?”

“Talk, I guess is what I’m trying to say.” y/n messed with her fingers, pulling at a hangnail she’d know she’d regret doing when it got to later in the night.

“Nah. But don’t worry about it, sweets.” Richie took out his wallet only to be met with a picture of the dreaded girl they’d just been talking about. He gulped. His spit tasted like Oreos and he knew he’d have a stomachache later. Richie thumbed out a ten-dollar bill and five ones to keep Alexander Hamilton company. “Ole Vanessa could never get in the way of you if that’s what you’re wonderin’.”

It was what she was wondering.

But she’d never let Richie know that. y/n crossed her arms tighter around her torso because right now it felt like Richie could see right through her.

Richie drove her home in the same way Bill would a month from that night. But Richie had a better taste in music and y/n was actually sad to part from him when he left her at her doorstep.

“I’m really sorry I had to cut our time short,” y/n said. She was sorry.

“It’s ff-fine. I al-already sai—”

“Yeah, but I feel awful, Bill.” y/n finally mucked up the courage to look him in the eye. Those blue eyes that’d been searching for hers all afternoon. “This was probably like… the worst first date in the history of first dates.”

“Ih-it’s not so bad. But that duh-depends on how muh-many first dates you’ve been on.” Bill laughed and y/n was trying to figure out what was funny about what he said.

“You’ve been on worse ones?” y/n asked anxiously.

“Luh-let’s just say th-they duh-didn’t get a second date.”

y/n nodded while her hands started to search for the keys in her purse.

“I’ll ss-see you tuh-tomorrow?”

“Or at my funeral. Whichever comes first.” For a moment, the bad thoughts cleared from the surface of y/n’s head. Laughter was the only thing she was aware of for a moment.

“Bye, y/n/n.”

“Bye, Richie,” y/n said bashfully. Her hands were strewn behind her back because she didn’t know what they would do if they weren’t. He was about to walk off—off into the moonlight. And y/n would have to wait until Monday to see him again. It was one day too long because she knew even though the two of them had nothing better to do tomorrow, he’d see it as just friends whereas y/n would see it… differently. “Richie, wait!”

“What?” Richie turned around. His hands sat inside of his front pockets and his posture was slumped, as always.

“Thanks… for tonight.” Richie nodded, and validation from him served as a sick kind of ego booster that egged y/n to keep going. “They really are the best milkshakes in town.”

“Yeah.” Richie’s scratchy voice soothed y/n under the frosty air that came from winters in Maine. y/n stepped closer, her hands still behind her back.

“Did you have a good time?”

“You know I always have a good time when I’m with you.” Richie nudged y/n’s elbow with his but was taken aback by her hands that now gripped his shoulders and how suddenly close she was against him.

y/n kissed him on the cheek, not daring to go for his lips because who’s ever heard of a kiss goodbye on the cheek? Is probably what Stacy Howards would retort back to her after she’d spill the happenings of Saturday night to Derry High’s favorite cheerleader in study hall.

His cheek tasted like salt and Irish Spring—that is, if she knew what Irish Spring tasted like. Which she definitely didn’t.

She didn’t linger long. Richie wished she stayed longer. The kiss was short and sweet and the taste of vanilla on her lips replaced a fraction of his cheek that tasted like body wash and sodium chloride.

“Goodnight,” y/n said, now finally coming to her senses.

“Ye-yeah.” Richie blinked, an alternative to pinching himself in front of the girl he’d been pretending to date. “Night.” But after pretending for so long, Richie couldn’t help but notice the less it felt like pretending.

y/n closed the door behind her with a slam, making sure to lock it in case intruders were in the neighborhood. Now that Bill was gone, her first instinct was to call up Richie—tell him that the date went well, and how he was such a great friend, and thanks for the help. But there were only so many times she could lie to a boy she felt feelings so deeply for. The first, coincidentally, was when Richie had asked how things were going with Bill.

“Make any progress so far?” Richie asked with a face full of ham. They were eating lunch together, per usual. But this time, unlike the many times before, the hand that wasn’t holding his sandwich was rubbing circles on y/n’s small hand that Richie’s swallowed.

“Comme ci comme ça.” y/n smiled to herself at her basic understanding any French One student would master. “It’s going alright…” y/n had never been a natural liar. Whenever she told her parents she had cleaned her room when she, in fact, didn’t, the hairs on the back of her neck stood to attention and her forearm broke out in an itch she could never quite scratch. But her internal biological workings had given her a break today. There was no itch and her hairs stayed in place from when she styled her hair that morning.

“What’s alright?” Richie questioned, though it sounded more like an interrogation.

“He started talking to me more.”

“He didn’t already talk to you?” Richie’s eyebrow rose because how were you supposed to fall for a guy you barely talked to?

“Well, yeah, he talks to me.” The pad of Richie’s thumb that was drawing slow circles onto y/n’s knuckles turned into lines. Back and forth. Back and forth. “But he used to talk to me about classwork and… you know, like, school.” Richie smiled when she talked. He was happy for his friend. He truly was. But he couldn’t stand the fact that the guy she was talking about wasn’t him—let alone, his former best friend. “And in APUSH, instead of asking about my grade or whatever, he… asked about me.”

“What’d Mister Charming have to say?”

Mister Charming sat two seats away from y/n. But that didn’t stop him from talking to her. Every now and then, Bill would steal glances at the girl from his peripheral vision. Sometimes, if he were feeling bold, he’d turn to face her—but that action only occurred when she was speaking. Today, however, was different. Today he’d talk to her.

Lucky for Bill, the pencil sharpener sat in the back of class—close to where y/n’s seat was.

“Hey.”

y/n looked up from her textbook. She didn’t want to assume the hushed voice was for her—but she had to figure the tap on her shoulder was.

“Hi.” She set her pencil down and folded her arms flat on the desk. “What’s up?” y/n swore she sounded insane. Who says what’s up—

“Th-the sky.” Bill’s smile made cloudy days seem cloudless. “I was wuh-wondering ih—” He swallowed the trail of saliva that gathered in the back of his throat. “If… are yo-you and Ruh-Richie like…”

“No!” y/n said quickly and a little too loudly.

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Muh-maybe we cuh-could hang out… This Saturday work?” A stroke of nervousness flitted across his features for a second even though Bill didn’t have anything to be nervous about. The rest of y/n’s words got caught in her throat and she instinctively found herself writing down her number on the scratch piece of paper Mr. Ferguson passed out for notetaking.

“Call me.”

Bill did call. Which was precisely how y/n was stuck frozen in time; her back slanted against the door and her thoughts racing against one another.

She had two options at hand. Call Richie. Find Richie. Or wait it out for tomorrow when Bill’s same car would be in her driveway, waiting for her.

But a third option was already at y/n’s doorstep, contemplating ringing the doorbell.

Richie Tozier stood outside of y/n’s front door, palms sweaty and unusually anxious for confrontation. His pale fingers knotted together. It was their way of stalling from interacting with y/n for as long as possible—or as long as curfew would allow him to.

“Hey.” His stalling attempt was left unsuccessful when y/n opened the door. Ironically, he was just the person she had hoped to run into. “What are… what are you doing?”

“Me?” Richie’s eyebrows stitched together, and he pointed to himself with his index finger.

“You’re the only one here,” y/n deadpanned.

“I was just in the neighborhood, y’know. Doin’ neighborly things.”

“You don’t live in this neighborhood.” Richie feigned laughter but this time y/n didn’t laugh with him. “Seriously, Rich, why are you here? You knew I had my date with Bill and—”

“And what?” His tone grew firm, like it had grabbed her by the hand and urged whatever was eating at her insides out of her.

“And I don’t think you should be here, after I just got done with my date with somebody else!” y/n said with a shaky breath. She could feel her heartbeat almost burning through her chest that rose and fell harshly.

“How was it? Your date?” Richie had calmed down, but y/n didn’t.

“It went bad. Is that what you wanted to hear?” y/n muttered, but it could’ve been mistaken for a yell.

“No, why would you think—hold on. What’s up with you?” Richie’s hands stuffed themselves in his front pocket. His posture was hunched over, and his face now screwed together, trying to understand the girl standing before him.

“I don’t know.” The flame that had once ignited y/n’s lively spirits had died down. “I just. It didn’t go well, that’s all,” y/n said, unable to coax the words she actually wanted to say out of her lips.

“He wasn’t an asshole, was he?” Richie’s tone was protective—nothing y/n would expect from him two months ago when she’d gotten themselves into this mess.

“No! No.” y/n was complicated. First, she’d spew off about how her date was bad and now she was defending said date?

“God, y/n/n, can you just make up your mind?”

She could do that.

“You were right,” y/n declared.

“What?”

“Don’t make me say it again.” Her voice lowered to a whisper, but Richie could still make out what she was saying.

“Well, I’m always right, toots. I just need context—”

“About the fake dating thing. How eventually one person’s bound to fall for the other…” Her toes curled from under the white Converse she hadn’t had time to slip off. They were worn and the bottoms were yellowing from the number of times she’d matched them to an outfit. “And you don’t look like you’re on your knees, so.”

“So, what?” y/n didn’t notice the smirk edging on the corners of Richie’s lips.

“Tozier, don’t make me say it.”

“You have to, or God knows how long we’ll be standing on this fuckin’ porch,” Richie said patiently. Patient. Richie was never patient—always the one to urge his friends to hurry the fuck up, always the one to ask are we there yet? But this time he was. His figure stood still and ominous, like Santa on Christmas Eve. His breathing held steady in his lungs that had seen more smoke than his mother’s kitchen and his feet stood planted on the concrete stoop of y/n’s house and they’d stay there until she told him the very damned thing she didn’t want to.

“I like you, okay?” y/n knew if she blinked, the dam of tears in her eyes would finally burst and the last thing she wanted was having Richie Tozier see her cry. Well, second to last thing. The first thing on that list had already happened. “Look, I know you’re still in love with Van-Vanessa.” It hurt to say the girl’s name because she wasn’t just a girl, she was Richie’s ex. “But you asked me to say it and I did. So there.”

y/n was about to turn back. Back into her house and back out of this friendship. It was only because Richie laughed that y/n stopped. His chuckle was like music, not the kind that Richie blasted in his car with the windows down, but like a symphony. And if y/n were any less mortified right now, maybe she’d stop to admire it—him—for one second more.

She was about to ask why. Why are you mocking me when I’m so clearly in a vulnerable state right now? Why are you mocking me after I’d just shared something so deep and personal with the likes of you? About the likes of you? But y/n didn’t get the chance when Richie surged forward and pressed a kiss against her lips. She could feel her heart pick up even more at the taste of him: spearmint and tobacco. She thought it’d stabilize itself once his lips left hers, but it didn’t. His taste lingered and at the time it felt permanent, like a red stain on white furniture.

“Like I said. Ole Vanessa could never get in the way of you.” His breath hit her face, warm and intoxicating, and y/n could only think that kissing Richie on the lips was way better than kissing him on the cheek.

[dracos-eternity]

This is a Richie tozier imagine

Contains smut

Um it might suck, yeah

Y/N P.O.V.

"F-fuck Richie." I moan out as his fingers curl inside me making my legs tremble as his other hand snakes up my side and wraps around my neck, choking me. I grab at the sheets and arch my back as the euphoric high hits me, a wave of pleasure washing over my body, my eyes rolling back, mouth slightly agape, breathing quick and short.

"Y/N, wake up." I roll over to look at my best friend, Richie Tozier, the true trashmouth. I've loved this boy longer than I can remember,  we've only ever been friends though. I don't think he loves me the same way I love him. Me and Richie have been inseparable from birth.  "Y/N?" His voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and my face turns red realizing the dream I just had right beside him.

"Yes Richie?" I reply, hoping I didn't say anything out loud.

"Are you okay? You were moaning in your sleep." He laughs at my face, embarrassment covering it.

"Fuck you Richie." I say pushing his shoulder as I laugh.

"Apparently you want to." I freeze and he smirks letting out a high pitched, whiny moan. "FuCk RiChIe." He says mocking me and I mentally facepalm. I push his shoulders causing him to fall back on my bed and laughs before sitting up and pushing me back falling between my legs, letting his hands fall to each side of my head. He stares down at me, his eyes darting from my lips to eyes. He leans down and crashes his lips against mine, I sit still, shocked, unable to move, and fucking happy. He pulls back, sitting up and looks down. "Fuck, I'm sorry Y/N. I thought you wanted it and I-" I cut him off smashing my lips back onto his, letting my arms rest on his shoulders as I run my fingers through his hair. We pull apart for air resting our foreheads against eachother.

"I love you Richie, always have." I smile.

"Me to Y/N." He pulls me close by my waist pulling me onto his lap and kisses me, trailing the down jaw and onto my neck leaving behind hickeys. I moan out and he grabs my hips pushing me down and making me grind against him causing my head to fall back and let small moans continue to fall from my mouth. We hear a knock on my door and instantly break apart before I get up fixing my hair to cover the hickeys and open the door, revealing the losers. The gang stifles chuckles and bev points to her collar bone, I look down to mine and notice the bright purple hickey. My face turns red and Richie comes up, grabbing my hand and laughing. "Y'know eddie I have your mom one last night to." He breaks the tension and we laugh.  The losers step out the house and we head to the bunker Ben made for us.

~time skip bc im to lazy to write the walk there~

"You two are cute." Bev laughs at me and Richie, our face turning bright red as I roll over hiding my face in his chest. We are currently laying in the hammock, me between his legs as he reads a comic book, resting his arms on my shoulders.

"Oh, this is cool." Eddie says in midst of his rant on how unsafe this is.

"That was like three dollars, so be careful with that please."

"I have one of these." Eddie says picking up the object, and beginning to play with it, the ball flying towards Stan's face. "Stan you see this?"

"Yeah could you maybe not." Stan says flinching each time the ball flies towards him.

"Could I maybe not what? Maybe not what Stan? Maybe not what? Maybe not be awesome and have fun and CELEBRATE THE MAGIC OF THE PADDLEBALLLLLLL." He yells as he breaks the toy, it falling out his hand. "Oh good job fucknut you broke it." He deadpans looking up at Stan.

"I broke it?"

"Yeah you broke it with your face."

I laugh at his pure crackhead idiocy before getting up and walking over to bev. We start up a conversation before hearing Eddie and Richie begin to argue about the hammock. Stans voice speaks low halfway through a conversation about where we'll be when we're older.

"Do you guys think we'll still be friends?" He questions catching our attention. "When we're older?"

"What, why wouldn't we be?" Ben responds taking the words out my mouth.

"Kay, do any of  your parents still hang out with their friends from middle school?" It makes me wonder, he has a point but our friendship is deeper than that right? After all we are fighting off a giant clown fucking together. We look around the room as he talks faintly in the background "I mean things might be different then." I try to stifle a laugh as I watch Eddie, who has layed in the opposite end of Richie in the hammock, pull off Richies glasses with his feet before smacking his face with his foot. "We all might be different."

"We'll always s-s-still be friends, I-I don't t-think that g-g-goes away just b-b-because we get older." Bill responds.

"Yeah Stan, come on." Bev joins in. "You don't have to be so sad." She continues.

"Guys I hate to break it to you and ruin the sensitive moment but we ran out of snacks." Mike interrupts.

"L-l-lets go get some." Bill stutters out. The rest agree except Richie and I offer to stay with him. The gang leaves and Richie looks at me, smirking as he gets up from the hammock and walks towards me.

~the smut shall begin😌~

He pins his hands on either side of my head, trapping me in. He leans down and kisses me, slowly, agonizingly slow. One of his hands reach to the small of my back pulling me in and I feel something press against me, causing me to moan into the kiss. He takes his opportunity and slides his tongue into my mouth, fighting mine for dominance. He pulls away, pulling my shirt off. He looks at me before grabbing my boobs and massaging them over my bra. I moan and lean my head back, giving him access to lean down and mark my neck with love bites and hickeys. I undo his jeans and push them down slightly just enough for them to fall to his ankles. I look down at the bulge and instantly feel myself get wet. He pulls my shorts and panties down in one swift move before moving me over to the table beside me, he sits me on it and I looks at me. "Y/N, your sure you're ready?" I nod my head and he likes himself up with me, I wince as he pushes in further, tears form in my eyes and begin to fall down my face as small whimpers of pain escape my mouth, he wipes my tears once he's all the way in and sits there giving me time to adjust as he grab onto his shoulders. "Please Richie." I say, he moves at a slow pace and my moans fill the bunker. He quickens soon and I feel a knot in my stomach. "Fuck, I'm close." He looks at me nodding his head and I cum tightening around him, he buries his face in the crook of my neck letting out loud groans as he cums inside me. We stay like this for a few minutes before we hear footsteps above us and scramble to get our clothes on. Everyone comes down and stares at us.

"What?" I question, everyone laughs as Bev points to her neck and looks up at Richie.

"Beep beep Richie." She says laughing at us.

[just-jordie-things]

Can’t Pretend - Richie Tozier

word count: 13,840 warnings: swearing, sexual themes summary: richie and (y/n) share a dirty little secret, and it’s starting to get in the way of her relationship.  but it shouldn’t if it was just a fling, right? based on this song (a/n): about to hit 5.4k so I thought I'd celebrate by posting this ol’ thing :) I really like it I hope y'all do too :3

___

[ love... i have wounds, only you can mend // i guess that’s love… i can’t pretend ]

It was a plain saturday for the Losers.  And by plain, I mean they were chilling in Bill’s bedroom, thankful that his parents were out of town for the weekend because that meant they could raid the liquor cabinet and be a bit louder than usual.

(y/n) was leaning against the mattress, sat on the floor, a beer bottle in hand and a smile on her face.  These were the best kinds of nights, where all they did was talk, and it was all they had to do.

Eddie smacks Richie on his shoulder, but nearly hits his face in his drunken stupor.  And when (y/n) laughs, her head leans a little more into Ben’s leg, which is hanging off the side of the bed where he sat.  She’s laughing loudly into the denim of his jeans, and the material does nothing to muffle the sound.

Everyone else is laughing too, though, so it doesn’t matter.

“Alright, so is anyone aware that in four months, we won’t see each other like this anymore?” Beverly asks, a frown on her face as she takes another drink.  “I mean, what, am I supposed to make new friends?”

“Yeah, good look with that, Ringwald” Richie snorts, and Bev just flips him off, the way she always does when he calls her that.

“We won’t be that far from each other” Ben says to her with a sweet smile.

“And it’s not like we won’t write, too,” Stan chimes in.  “Except you Richie, after we graduate, never fucking talk to me again-”

“Oh, I’ll send you love letters every day sweetie pie,” Richie says before Stan can even finish.  “Don’t you worry, it’ll be like I’m right there with you”

He sticks his tongue out and snickers, while Stan grumbles about needing a break.

(y/n) can’t help but giggle at both boys.  Partially because she gets very giggly when tipsy, and partially because they’re the two funniest people she knows.  Richie grins at her when he catches her laughing, only making her laugh more.

“How are w-we gonna do it?” Bill muses, not really looking for an answer, because there really isn’t one.

“We don’t,” (y/n) shrugs.  “We avoid it until… there’s not really any other option” 

“Dark” Ben mumbled.

“It’s true,” (y/n) argued.  “If we go through this year with the mindset that this is the end, then we’ll push each other away, it’s psychology”

Eddie nods because he was in her class and is pretty sure he remembers hearing that.

“So we just live our best year” He agrees with her.

She high fives him.

“Well you’re already on your way,” Beverly said, and stood up from where she sat next to Mike so she could plop down next to her best girl.  “What, with your fancy scholarship, and your boyfriend” She singsonged the word, and (y/n) wilted with embarrassment.

“Come on Bev-”

“Are you guys gonna stay together?” Stan asks, the gears in his head turning as soon as her boyfriend was mentioned.  “I mean it’s been like… five months, right?”

“Four and a half” (y/n) mumbled, pulling her knees to her chest.

She stares down at her drink, and then takes a long swig.  She had a feeling she’d need it.

Talking about her boyfriend when everyone was around was… awkward.  It was one thing if it was just her and Beverly, but to have all the boys’ eyes on her every time his name came up made her feel hot, like she was being interrogated.

“So you’re kinda serious,” Stan shrugged.  “How many times have you done it?”

She chokes, and coughs for a long moment before catching her breath.

“Stan you don’t get to-”

“Come on, just fess up,” Beverly giggles.  “We won’t make fun! Promise!”

(y/n’s) cheeks go hot, and she knows they’re pink and that she’ll only be picked on more for it.  She locks eyes with Richie, who winks at her, and now her face must be red.

“We- uh-” Her eyes dart away before she can choke and lose her train of thought again.  “We actually um… haven’t… done… that” She says slowly, and with every reluctant word her voice gets softer.

“What?” Eddie screeches.

“No way,” Stan is laughing in disbelief.  “Come on, just give up the number.  What, ten? Fifteen? Twenty-?!”

(y/n’s) eyes are narrowed at him, silently yelling for him to fuck off.

“Really?” Beverly asks, just as shocked as the others.

Well, everyone was surprised.

“But he’s so…”

“Hot?” Eddie offers, only to get nudged in the ribs by the trashmouth next to him.

“I was going to say affectionate,” Beverly answers, staring skeptically at Richie.  “He’s always hanging all over you, how have you not hooked up?”

(y/n) shrugs her shoulders and stares down at her drink again.

“I dunno” She mumbles weakly.

“Has he tried-?”

“This is super awkward, can we be done?” She asked, voice still soft, embarrassed.

“I mean come on, don’t you want to f-”

“Can we stop fucking talking about this, before I’m forced to visualize his dick?” Richie cuts in, faking a gag.  “Oh, fuck, too late, thanks a lot you sluts”

Stan and Beverly are distracted by the comment and burst into laughter while Richie pretends to throw up.

After the conversation ends, and Ben starts talking about the colleges he’s deciding between, (y/n) glances over to her favorite glasses-wearing idiot.  He catches her gaze, and she mouths ‘thank you’.  He just smiles, before diving right back into conversation about why Ben should be an architect and not a poet.

A few beers later and they have to cut themselves off, because if they drink too much then Bill’s parents will notice and they’ll all get in trouble.  They shouldn’t be drinking anymore anyways, because everyone’s relatively tipsy, and with the general excitable mood among the group, drinking more would be a bad idea.

Everyone’s lying on their backs, staring at the ceiling and talking about nonsense.  What was once a serious conversation about their future has turned into a debate about what the most important thing to have when stranded on an island would be.

“A knife, definitely a knife” Mike argues.

“What? Fuck no, a gun” Stanley fights back, thus starting an argument about not having bullets because you can only choose one item.

“Flint? I guess? I don’t fuckin’ know” Beverly says sleepily.  She didn’t care much for this discussion when it started, and forty five minutes later, she still doesn’t.

“I’d bring an issue of Maxim, for sure.  Gotta keep busy you know-”

“Beep beep, Richie,” Eddie grumbles.  “I’d bring an epipen.  I’m allergic to everything on an island”

“Oh fuck off, you’re not allergic to sand” Richie smacks the boy on his arm for suggesting something so idiotic.

“I’d bring  one of my grandpa’s sheep,” Mike spoke after what seemed like forever of deliberation.  “It’d save his life and I’d have a companion”

“That’s sweet,” (y/n) cooed, smiling delightedly at the idea of Mike wanting a friend more than anything else.  “I’ll take a sheep too, please”

The two break out into laughter for a few minutes, uncontrollable, belly aching laughter.

“You can’t copy Mike, come up with your own!” Eddie scolded, offended that (y/n) tried to break the rules of their made up game.

“Alright, alright, let a girl think first…” (y/n) folded her arms over her head as she squinted, to help her thought process.  “Um… a book”

“A book?” Eddie laughed almost maniacally at her answer.  “Alright, just fuckin’ take a sheep from Mike, that was even worse”

“What? No it isn’t,” (y/n) argued.  “It’ll keep me occupied and entertained, and when it’s done I can read it over again”

“Lame” Eddie muttered.

She reached over to smack him, and sadly Bill got caught in the crossfire.

“You wouldn’t bring your lover?” Stan teased, and she almost hit him too.  “You’d pick a farm animal over your boyfriend?”

“I didn’t think of it like that” She said quietly.

“I don’t get you guys,” Stan says, and she sighs because the conversation has somehow drifted to him, again.  “I mean, it’s been four and a half months, and typically couples get it on for their one month.  But you’ve had four anniversaries and still haven’t-”

“Why are you so interested in my business, Stanley?” (y/n) asked, a bit more defensive than she needed to be.

He raises his hands and pulls an innocent face.

“I’m just worried about you!” He retorts.  “You’re the one in desperate need-”

“I’m not desperate for anything” She snaps.

“Yeah, Stan, she’s not a virgin, (y/n’s) gotten some before” Beverly makes an attempt to back (y/n) up, but it only makes her feel worse.

“What? But he’s her first boyfriend- oh my god, who was it?” Stan asks, way more interested in this topic now.

“Leave me alone” She rolls her eyes and shoves his shoulder.

“Oh god, it must be real embarrassing,” Eddie is giddy for the gossip now, sitting up to join in better.  “Who was it?”

“Cut it out” She says a bit louder, sharp eyes meeting Eddies, a silent threat in them.

“Who was it, Bev?” Eddie asked, deciding to go the source it came from.

But she shrugs her shoulders, and makes an ‘I don’t know’ sound.

“What do you m-mean you don’t kn-know?” Bill stammers out.

“She didn’t wanna tell me” Beverly answers, simple as that.

(y/n) covers her face with her hands.  She wishes she was more drunk than she was, because then maybe there was hope for recovering from this.  Or maybe even forgetting completely.

“Must be real embarrassing,” Richie teases.

She peeks at him through her fingers.

“Bowers?” He asks with a raised brow, and she barks out a laugh.

Everyone laughs then, at the mere idea of anyone hooking up with that nutcase.

“I promised I wouldn’t tell, okay?” She admits after the laughter has died and all attention is on her again.  “It’s private” She adds softer.

“Fine” Stan gives in, not wanting to make the girl anymore uncomfortable.

If they knew anything about (y/n), it was that she kept secrets and promises locked away forever.  She was the most trustworthy person any of them had ever met.  And she’d never break someone else’s trust either.

“But if you’ve done it before, why aren’t you, yaknow, still doing it?” Stan asks, and begins to giggle at his own words.  “I mean, if I had a hot girlfriend, I’d be doing it like… all the time”

“Pervert” (y/n) mumbles.

“Did you just call (y/n) hot?” Eddie asks, and everyone ooohs at his catch.

“Alright, alright! Calm down, of course I did!” Stan announces, and a blush takes over the girl’s face again.  But this time she’s not embarrassed, she’s flattered.  “It’s an observation, okay? Jesus”

She giggles, and leans over to kiss his cheek.

“You guys are so dumb,” She mumbles.  “I love you all so much”

“All I’m asking,” Stan declares, voice loud.  “Is why you’re avoiding it!”

“I’m not avoiding it” She argues, but she knows she’s failed because it’s such a blatant lie, and any sober mind would be able to see that.

Luckily, no one in this room is sober.

“Oh yeah?” Stan scoffs.  “Have you been home alone with him in the last four and a half months?”

“Yeah?” She asks, voice cracking slightly.

“And you didn’t screw him?”

“Watch it” Richie’s voice bites from where he lies a few feet away from them.  Stan pays it no mind, but Bev kicks his leg, and furrows her brow at him, wondering why he gave a fuck what Stan had to say.

The others were either asleep, or didn’t want to step in on the mini argument (y/n) and Stan were having.

Ben and Mike had passed out on the floor a few minutes ago.  And Eddie and Bill just sat and listened to the argument, wishing they could pass out.

“No, I- I didn’t,” (y/n) stammers.  “But so? I don’t want to rush it-”

“Liaaaar,” Stan singsongs.  “You don’t want to hook up with him”

“That’s not true!” She exclaims.  “We-. we’re actually hanging out at his place tuesday night,” She tells him matter of factly.  “Alone!”

“Ooh, good for you,” Stan retorts sarcastically.  “That doesn’t mean shit unless you actually take your pants off”

Her face scrunches up as her eyes narrow at him.  Now she’s angry, because he doesn’t believe her, and he’s not trying to.  So what if she’s lying through her teeth? He’s her friend and he should believe her.

“I’m tired” She announces suddenly, and forces herself to stand up.

She steals one of the few blankets on Bill’s bed that he’d prepared for everyone.  Her balance is a bit shaky as she wraps it around herself, and heads for the door.

“Goodnight” She calls, only once she’s left the room and is heading for the pullout bed in the living room sofa.

The room is silent for a few minutes after she’s left.

“Well fuck, you’re gonna have to apologize in the morning” Eddie mumbles, and San knows he’s talking to him.

“I didn’t think she’d get that pissed,” He replied guiltily.  “I was just messin’, I thought she’d just get embarrassed.  I don’t know what I did-”

“She doesn’t like talking about that stuff, dumbass,” Richie says.  “Shit makes her uncomfortable”

“Well I didn’t know that-” Stan starts to argue.

Beverly stops him before he can start any more drama tonight.

“Don’t worry about it, Stan, she’ll be alright,” She says, and then gets up to get a blanket as well.  “I’ll go talk to her to make sure she really is alright, goodnight”

The boys mumble a ‘goodnight’ back to her, and she descends the staircase to check on her friend, who’s laying facedown on the mattress.

“Oh, hon,” Bev laughs, and lays down next to her.  “Don’t be so upset with Stan, he was just being dumb-”

“I know” (y/n) mumbles into her pillow.

Beverly pulls the blanket she’s brought with her and drapes it over her back, so she won’t get cold while she’s pouting.

“Then what’s troubling you?”

Her words are a bit slurred, but the care is still there.

“I just… I don’t know.  I didn’t have to think about it before and now I can’t stop,” (y/n) admits with a sign.  “And maybe I’m upset because… he’s right.  Maybe I’m upset because he’s write and I wouldn’t admit it to myself, but I have been avoiding hooking up with him.  I mean, so much could go wrong and I just… don’t want to have a bunch of drama our senior year, yaknow? I want it to be smooth and easy.  And so far with him our relationship has been smooth and easy, but what if he’s wanted to do it this whole time and I keep dodging him and now he’s gonna break up with me?”

(y/n) lifts her head to turn to her redheaded friend for advice.

But Beverly is sound asleep, snoring softly against her pillow.

(y/n) can’t help but smile a bit, even though she really needed help sorting out her messy thoughts.  But she wasn’t going to bother Beverly by waking her up.

So she carefully crept off the squeaky pullout mattress, and went back upstairs.

Ben and Mike are still asleep on the floor, but someone’s thrown a couple blankets over them.

Stan is on Bill’s bed, facing the opposite direction as Bill, and they’ve both knocked off as well.

Maybe everyone else had more to drink than her, she thinks as she shuts the door to leave them be.  When she turns to head to the guest bedroom, she nearly runs into Eddie.

“Who are you looking for?” He asks right away.

He rubs his tired eyes, and she adores that he looks like a child when he does so.

“Um-”

“Richie’s in bed already,” Eddie says before she can answer.  “If you’re gonna prank him, you might want to wait a few minutes, so you know he’s in a deep enough sleep”

(y/n) chuckles at the unprompted advice, and nods her head.

“Alright... thanks” She says.

Eddie doesn’t say anything else as he pushes past her to go to sleep in Bill’s room.

“You aren’t gonna sleep in the guest room?” She asks with furrowed brows.

“Fuck no, Richie kicks and talks in his sleep.  I’d rather stay on the floor with those two” Eddie answers, and then gives her a small wave before shutting the bedroom door.

She takes a deep breath as she stands in front of the guest room’s door.  And then before she could stop herself, she opens the door, and shuts it quickly behind her as she steps inside.

Richie's laying in bed, arms wrapped around the pillow that his face is pressed into.  He mumbles a slurred ‘who is it?’ into the feathery cushion.  But he knows it’s her before she even answers.  Because as she sits on the side of the bed next to him, he can smell her perfume.

He squints up at her, having lost his glasses somewhere in Bill’s room, and wonders what she’s doing here.

“Surprise” She says weakly, and a slight smirk tugs on his lips.

“What’s goin’ on?” He asks, leaning his face back down into the comfort of the cool pillow.  He was already getting a headache from the four beers he had.  (He’d drank two of the three Eddie had gotten)

“Can we talk?” She asks in a voice so soft that she can only be referencing one thing.

Richie nods, and pats the space next to him with his palm.

She hesitates for just a moment, before giving in and laying down in the spot, grabbing a hold of the other pillow she mirrors Richie’s actions and hugs it under her head.

He doesn’t say anything, just lays there with his eyes closed in the dark and waits for her to go first.

“Was I….” She starts, but then bites her lip and shakes her head as she changes her mind.  “When we…”

“...hooked up?” He offers.

It’s so casual, so quiet, that her heart skips a beat, because she can’t believe he can just say it like that.  Speak their darkest, most carefully kept secret, out into the open like that.

“Yeah…” She mumbled back.  “Was I… I don’t know… good?”

He opens his eyes now, and his brows furrow as he sees her anxious expression.

They hadn’t talked about it since it had happened, which was their deal, but after her argument with Stan he figured she was going to sneak in here and talk to him.  He’s not sure why she looks so scared, though.

“Were you good?” He repeats her question, like he doesn’t understand it.

She nods her head.

“(y/n), of course you were good, you were you,” He chuckles, a genuine smile on his lips.  The compliment, if you could call it that, made her blush.  “He’ll be lucky to have you in his bed, alright?”

“Be honest with me,” She said.  “Don’t just say stuff to make me feel better”

“I’m not” Richie grumbles, laying back down again.

His head his swirling a bit, and with her laying so close to him, it wasn’t helping.

“Why haven’t you done it yet, anyways?” He asks her after it’s been silent for too long.

“I…” She tries and fails to answer the question.  But she’s her most honest self when she’s with Richie, and feels he deserves an explanation for her behavior tonight.  “... was scared” She finishes after a few minutes.

“You’re scared of sex?” He mumbles, and she shakes her head.

“No… just… with him”

“That makes no sense, (y/n/n)”

“I know” She whispers out, and her fingers draw patterns on the sheets.

“You think he’s gonna… hurt you?” Richie asks, because as soon as the thought crosses his mind, he has to ask.

“No, of course not,” She replies, and lifts up his blanket so she can shimmy under it and warm up a bit.  “Sometimes I feel like I just don’t know him” Her voice drops to a whisper again.

Her eyes are focused on his tee shirt, trying to figure out what band is advertised on it while Richie thinks.  He’s not sure what to tell her, because of course he doesn’t want to promote her hooking up with him.  But… the guy’s her boyfriend, so what’s he supposed to do?

“(y/n)....” He sighs, and subconsciously wraps an arm around her.  His hand tangles in her hair, massaging her scalp comfortingly.  “That’s not true, you’ve been together for a while now”

The logic is there, but she’s unconvinced.

“And besides,” He continues, and she looks up at him, meeting his kind eyes.  “When you’re ready, you’ll know,” He says, and he grins before poking her cheek and nose.  “But you already know that”

She giggles softly, swatting away his hand.

“I hate when you’re right, you know,” She says through a yawn.

Without thinking, she leaned her head into his chest.

“What if I don’t want to do it, though?” She asks.  “What if… what if I don’t like it?”

“You hurt my feelings when you talk like you’ve never done it before”

“No more jokes,” She whispers.  “I mean it”

“Then you tell him, and you stop,” Richie answers without missing a beat.  “That’s how it works… you know that, right?”

“S-sure,” She stammers out.  “But what if-”

“No, there’s no ‘what ifs’ about that one, (y/n/n),” He tells her seriously.  “I’m not fucking around, if you want to stop then you-”

“Don’t worry, Rich,” She hums.  “You don’t have to give me the consent talk, that’s not what I mean”

His brows furrow down at her, but she doesn’t see because her eyes are closed and her face is hidden in his shirt.  For a second he’s distracted and wonders if he should be holding her like this when she has a boyfriend.

“What… do you mean, then?”

“What if I’m not… um…” She trails off, clearly embarrassed.

“Come on, don’t hold out on me now” Richie chuckles teasingly.

“... attracted to him… sexually?” She speaks like she’s unsure of her words, and it takes everything in Richie not to laugh out loud.

“That’s not something I can fix, hon” He tells her, and she can tell he’s holding back a laugh.

She’s silent, and Richie hopes she hasn’t fallen asleep, because knows it wouldn’t be right to share a bed for the night.

“I mean you’ve… done other stuff, right?” He asks, and even that seems wrong.  He really shouldn’t even be talking to her about this, but it’s not his fault that he’s the only person she can talk to about this stuff.

(It’s maybe his fault that they slept together in the first place, but surely (y/n) can take some responsibility for that one)

“Not really” She says in a barely audible mumble.

“Not really?” He repeats, confused by the question.  “All you’ve done is-”

“We’ve made out a couple times,” She tells him before she overthinks it and starts to feel uncomfortable.  “That’s it”

“Clothes have never come off?” He asks with a chuckle he can’t contain.

(y/n) shakes her head.

“What the fuck is wrong with-”

“Richie…”

“-him?” He finished anyways, taking her by surprise that he wasn’t trying to bash on her.  “Look, (y/n/n), it’s your relationship, you do what you want to do.  But do you even see a future with him?”

She’s silent again.

And then she shuffles off the mattress, and heads for the door.

“(y/n),” Richie called with a sigh.  “It’s just a question”

She held the open door in her hand, and looked back at him.  He had a guilty but confused look on his face, and was propped up in ed, hoping she’d come back and finish talking.

“I’m tired, Richie,” She said softly.  “Goodnight”

He let out a sigh, regretting having been so forward and pushing her out of her comfort zone.  He hadn’t realized it when he’d asked, but he sure as hell could tell now.

“Goodnight” He said before she could shut the door behind her.

(y/n) was glad that Beverly was fast asleep on the pullout bed still, because all she did for the rest of the night is fuss to get comfortable, only to lay wide awake, overthinking.

Trying to figure out a future with her boyfriend in it. ___

[ oh feel our bodies grow, and our souls they play // yeah love i hope you know how much my heart depends ]

It was loud, it was so loud that the bass in the music playing was ringing in her ears, and making the liquid in her cup ripple.  But that might have just been because she was stumbling around so much, trying to find somewhere to chill out for a minute in this sea of bodies.

Richie Tozier’s hand was holding on tightly to hers, pulling her behind him, acting as a guide through the chaos.  But who was she kidding, he was the chaos.  It was his house party after all.

How he’d even invited this many people, (y/n) wasn’t sure.  It’s not like he knew everyone here, but word of mouth works fast in Derry, and a byob party that had half a dozen kegs and then some, not one student from their school missed it.

Even Stan was here… somewhere.  

It was a bit hopeless to go looking for people in this crowd.

Finally Richie had taken them outside.  There were still a couple dozen people hanging out in his backyard, but at least she could hear herself think, or take a step without bumping into someone.

“Thank god,” She huffed, pushing her hair out of her face and taking a drink.  “I thought I was gonna get trampled to death in there”

Richie chuckles, eyes shining as he watched her finally relax a bit.

“You would’ve made this party worth talking about if you had” He teases her.

“I think it already is,” She replies with a small and nervous laugh.  “The whole school’s here, Rich, I think people will be talking about it for a- who brought a kiddie pool?”

She cuts herself off as her eye catch a plastic pool, filled with eyes and the most beer she’s ever seen all at once.  They definitely hadn’t brought it, although she’s surprised that none of them had thought of it when planning for this party.

“Don’t know” Richie shrugs, and then wanders over to grab them two bottles.

They’d been drinking soda all night, not wanting to get shit faced so they could keep an eye on things.  But they were well past that, and at this point, whatever happens, happens.

She taps her glass against his in a quiet ‘clink’

“Cheers to you, Tozier” She says with a rather sweet smile, the kind that he compulsively smiles back at.

“And you” He replies, before tipping the bottle back and taking a long swig.

The thing about (y/n) was that… well, there was just this thing.  An undeniable, unspoken, electric thing.  There was something about her that drew Richie towards her like a magnet.  Even tonight, he’d shown up at her side, and just like that they’d spent the last two hours together.  She was such a lovely person, which was a rarity in this town.  

He had a feeling that she owned his heart, even though he just had a silly teenage crush on her.  But what had started as a silly crush, an admiration for her beauty, grew into an adoration of her entire being, her soul.  He was falling for her, at a speed from the atmosphere, and he was bound to crash soon.

Her hand reaches out and seizes the sleeve of his denim jacket, yanking him towards her all in one motion.  His heart’s beating out of his chest with anticipation, but as quickly as she’d grabbed him, she was shaking him out of his daze.

“You almost got knocked over,” She tells him, nodding to the pair of drunken boys with their arms slung around one another, stumbling around the backyard, trying to walk in sync.  “You alright?”

“Yeah, sorry, out of it” He answered with choppy words.

He finds the crease between her brows adorable.

“You only took one sip,” She jokes, poking at his bottle.  “Quick, how many fingers am I holding up?” She asks, holding four fingers in front of his face while giggling.

Richie rolls his eyes, grabbing her hand to pull it out of his face.

But he doesn’t let go.

And for the next hour, as they talk and drink a little and dance, her hand remains in his.  She didn’t say anything about it, which he’s silently thankful for.  Maybe she feels safer when attached to him, knowing she’s not going to get sucked into the crowd and lost.  Or maybe she just… wants to.

They’re dancing in the living room, to a song neither of them knew, with a hundred strangers, when she finally mentions it.

“You’re blushing!” She announces, albeit a bit tipsy.

There’s a grin on her face, and with her free hand she pokes at the pink on his cheeks.

“Cut that out- what’s with you and jabbing your fingers at me today?” He says, trying to brush it off and get her to forget about it.  It doesn’t work.

She bursts into a fit of laughter, and her body leans towards his a bit as she does.

She only lets go of his hand to wrap her arms around his neck and spin them around excitedly.

“You never blush,” She says.  “So what’s on your mind?”

She sounds bubbly, as if his answer is amusing to her, and she’s impatient to hear it.  Richie shakes his head, and wills the heat in his face to go away, but it doesn’t.  Of course it doesn’t, she’s standing a few inches away from him and staring at him with those round and curious eyes that he loves and-

“You” He responds with a shrug.

His voice is cool and casual as ever, but he’s losing his shit on the inside.

Her lips form an ‘o’ as she processes the single word.  For a second he regretted speaking, which was kinda normal for him, but then her eyes lit up and she giggles with delightful bashfulness.

A breath of a laugh escapes his lips as he laughs nervously with her.

“You’re adorably funny” She says, and takes him by surprise when she leans up on her toes, cups her face in one hand, and presses a kiss to his other cheek.

When she lands back flat on her feet, she’s amused by the grin that she’d put on his face.

“Drinks?” She asks, and when he pulls a face, she clarifies, “Non-alcoholic drinks”

“Fine” He agrees, and when they head out of the living room, her hand reaches out and grabs his, slotting her fingers through his with ease.

He glances down to her when she does so, but she just gives him a big and innocent smile.

They find their friends in the kitchen.  Beverly and Eddie are quite… shit faced, while Bill is drinking water and trying to get them to have some as well.  From what Richie and (y/n) could tell, his efforts were useless.

“Let them be,” (y/n) says, ruffling up Eddie’s hair with her free hand, only to get swatted away.  “They’ll pay the consequences in the morning”

Bill shrugs and hums in agreement, but he tries to get them to drink something.

“What’s goin’ on here?” Bev asks, pointing at Richie and (y/n’s) conjoined hands.

Richie starts to let go, but she squeezes his hand and smiles almost proudly at her drunk friend.

“Well I don’t wanna get lost” She says confidently.

Beverly shrugs, not having the attention span to ask further questions, or really care.

“Is that- are you- is that rootbeer?” Eddie asks, and he squints at the can in (y/n’s) hand, like he can’t see.  “You’re at a- a fuckin’ party and you’re drinkin’ a soda?”

“Leave her alone Eddie Spaghetti” Richie chides, smacking the shorter boy on the shoulder.

“Yeah, Eddie Spaghetti” (y/n) adds in a mocking tone, and giggles to herself at the nickname.

Eddie hates it, but he’s drunk off his ass, so there’s not much he can do about it.  He’ll try to throw hands with Richie tomorrow.

Bev starts to tell a story about a fight she saw on the front lawn.  It’s missing parts, and she’s having a hard time remembering most of it, but they listen because it’s funny and interesting.

(y/n) sat herself on the kitchen counter, drink in one hand and Richie’s hand in the other, laughing along and encouraging her to continue.  Even when she finishes her story, she’s not sure what happened, or who was even fighting, but it doesn’t matter.

“It’s l-late,” Bill says, eyeing the stove that reads 2:15.  “I think I should go”

“You’re not staying the night?” (y/n) asked.

Richie’s parents would be gone for another day, leaving plenty of time for the Losers Club to hang out, and clean up the trashed house everyone else left behind.

“No, I sh-shouldn’t,” He says.  “B-but I’ll come b-back tomorrow to help with th-the mess” He adds in a reassuring tone.

“Alright Billy,” (y/n) reaches her arms out towards him, prompting him to hug her goodbye.  She embraces him tightly for a short moment.  “See ya tomorrow”

He gives a small wave, and then offers a ride to Eddie and Bev.  They both decide to keep drinking and crash at the house.  He’s not surprised.

“I feel like dancing!” Beverly declares, and is out of the kitchen before anyone could say a word.

“Man is she fuckin’ wasted” Eddie chuckles.

Richie and (y/n) burst out laughing at the irony, but don’t tell him why it’s funny when he asks why they’re laughing their asses off.

Eddie winds up sitting on the kitchen floor, and then laying on it, cradling an empty bottle of vodka to his chest.

“You gonna sleep down there with him?” Richie asks (y/n), and gives the asmathic on the floor a gentle kick.

(y/n) giggles and shakes her head, and without thinking, reaches out to grab onto his hands again.  With a small tug, he steps closer, almost standing between her open legs.  But he doesn’t dare move that close.

“No…” She answers after a minute.  “There’s no way in hell you’re making me sleep on a floor”

“Well, if the beds are all taken-”

“Richard Tozier” She says his name firmly, “If you don’t give me a bed to sleep in like a human fucking being I swear I will-”

“You’ll what, sweetheart?”

His voice drops an octave, and his head cocks to the side a bit as he stares at her skeptically, wondering what it was she was about to say next.  When her mouth is left hanging open, he smirks a little.

“Come on (y/n/n), you’re not the threatening type,” He speaks at a normal volume again, but his closeness and the look on his face doesn’t fade.  “Besides, you got nothing on me”

“Oh, I doubt that-” She tries to argue, but he cuts her off again.

“Just try to think of something, you can’t.  My record’s squeaky clean”  

He leans a bit closer with every word, but the movement is miniscule, and she’s probably the only person in the room who could have noticed it.

As soon as he eyes wander to his lips, they dart right back up, but it’s too late, he caught the glance, and his smirk widens.

Richie quirks a brow in question, like an asshole.

She sets her soda can on the counter next to her.

“You really value me so little that you’ll make me sleep, where, on the floor? The bathtub?”

“I think the tub is still occupied, actually,” Richie says.  “And the floor, well, it’s covered in trash and…” He looks down to Eddie, who’s very close to passing out.  “... more trash”

(y/n) hits his chest with the back of her hand.

“That was for Eddie” She says, and Richie laughs.

She’s got an offended look on her face, and fuck if it wasn’t the cutest thing he’s ever seen…

“I’m just saying sweetheart…” He shrugs his shoulders innocently.  “Your sleeping options aren’t looking great.  Pretty much everywhere is taken”

She’s quiet for a moment, and he can tell she’s hesitant, because she bites down on her lip, and she has a hard time keeping eye contact.  He doesn’t rush her to say whatever’s on her mind, just stands there, unmoving, and waits.

“Show me a bed, then, Tozier”

It’s soft, whispered like a secret, and unsure.

They’re both still for a beat, each waiting for the other to back out.

But neither do.

So he offers her his hand, which she gladly takes before hopping off the counter and following closely behind him.  Through the thinning crowd in the living room, and then up the stairs.

When they’re in the hall, he casts a look over his shoulder to her, and her eyes meet his instantly.

There’s something serious in them that he’s never seen in her before.  Like she was trying to tell him something, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it is.

Her free hand grabs onto the sleeve of his jacket, tethering herself to him.  There was nowhere to get lost up here, everyone was downstairs.  Except for the boy passed out in the bathtub, and Richie was fairly certain a couple passed out in his parent’s bedroom.  But right now, they were alone.

He brings her to his room, carefully peeking in to make sure no one was in there, before letting her inside.  He’s quick to shut and lock the door.

(y/n) gives him a look at the sound of the lock clicking, and his face flushes.

“I mean- it’d be weird if some frisky couple were to come in- while we’re in here” He defends his actions.

She just hums, and wanders over to his dresser, where his fish tank sat.  She smiled at his goldfish before swirling the tip of her finger in the water.

Richie just admires her while she glances over his things.  The picture frames, the trinkets and forgotten things he’s left there.  She looks so natural standing there.

It wasn’t often that she was in his room, Richie’s house isn’t somewhere that everyone hangs out at, and (y/n) and Richie rarely hang out alone.  It was kind of nice to have so much time with her tonight, just her.  And still, he wanted it all the time.

She can feel his eyes on her, and when she turns around, she isn’t surprised that she was right.

She gives him a small smile, and clasps her hands together behind her back.  It was a nervous habit she had, squeezing her hands together tightly, and Richie loved seeing her do it now.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been in here,” She says, desperately trying to fill the silence.  “Hasn’t changed much though” She added in a quieter voice.

He doesn’t say anything, and it only amps up her nerves.

And then he strides over to her, rather quickly, and her breath caught in her throat as he’s suddenly towering over her, face a mere few inches away from hers.  

She’s frozen, staring at him wide eyed and waiting for him to do something.

She’d thought he was going to kiss her, and when he didn’t, hear heart only beat harder in her chest.

“What?” She asks, wondering what he was doing if he wasn’t going to make a move.

“Nothing” He shakes his head, and her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What are you doing then?” She questions him again, voice a hundred times softer.

He gives her a playful smirk, and she almost frowns at him, annoyed by the teasing.

“I’m not doing anything” He hums with a shrug.

She rolls her eyes, done with the games, and steps away.  She needs a breath.  Or two.  Two very deep breaths.

But before she can, Richie’s hand shoots out and grabs her wrist, pulling her back so rough that she collides into his chest, making them both stagger for a brief moment, until his lips crash down into hers.

She’s just gotten her balance back when he pulls away, staring at her expectantly, waiting for her to tell him to stop.

Her lips are parted and she’s panting softly, still in shock, and her eyes flutter open to meet his.

She doesn’t tell him to stop, instead, she leans up on the tips of her toes to kiss him again, a much longer kiss that she wished he’d begun with.

They pulled away at the same time.

“We can’t tell the others!” They both rush out the words so fast, so panicked, but it disappears as they register the other agrees.

And then all at once they’re kissing again.  His hands are gripping her hips, keeping her pressed completely against him, while hers are tangled in his hair, combing and gripping at his strands of curls.

Their lips move so feverishly, both desperate for every second to be fulfilling.  They knew this was a once in a lifetime chance, that this was their only chance, and it had to be perfect.

They part for a few seconds, so (y/n) can catch her breath.

His nose prods against hers, before he takes her cin between his thumb and forefinger, turning her head to the side so that he can trail a line of kisses along her jaw, tracing up to the sweet spot just below her ear.

He bit the soft skin, because he couldn’t help himself.  She gasped softly, and then giggled at the delightful and ticklish feeling of his mouth against the spot.  Her hands tighten a bit in his hair.

Eventually, once he’s left a decent purple mark on her neck, she tugs on his hair, pulling his lips back to hers needily.  She’s delicate as she glides over the seam of his lips with her tongue.  Richie isn’t so sweet as he gladly tangles his own tongue with hers.

When she’s the one to win the battle for dominance, she smirks against his lips.  But Richie’s quick to retaliate, turning her suddenly, and pushing her backwards until she runs into the wall.

Her lips detach from his as she grunts at the surprise contact, and her eyes shoot up to his out of annoyance.

“Jesus, fucking watch it” She mutters.

She grabs the collar of his jacket and yanks his lips back down to hers anyways, already craving more contact.

Kissing Richie Tozier is exactly as she expected, or more accurately dreamed, it would be.  Bliss.  Passionate.  Hot.

She hastily shoves his jacket down his shoulders, and then practically clawed the sleeves off of his arms.  As soon as it was discarded, his hands slammed into the wall on either side of her head, caging her in.  She loves it.

She wonders if he’s really gotten her addicted to his lips in a matter of two minutes.

After a few more kisses, she confirms that he has.

Her arms wrap around his neck and she can’t hold back a smile.

They part for a moment, and then rush to his bed.

(y/n’s) giggling as Richie crawls over her, one hand caressing her cheek while the other is pinned to the bed as not to crush her.  His thumb brushed over her cheekbone sweetly.

“You’re sure?” He asks, suddenly worried that he was rushing her.

But she nods, excitedly, and pulls his face down so she can kiss him again.

“But like-” Richie pulls away.  “You’re sure you’re sure? Like absolutely positive?”

“Richie,” She laughs, shaking her head a bit.  “Yes”

And that’s how it happened. ___

[ but i guess that’s love, i can’t pretend… i can’t pretend... ]

(y/n) had known Richie pretty much her whole life.  And they’d always gotten along, despite his big mouth and his tendency to say the wrong thing at the wrong time.  She found it endearing that he would call her hot stuff and then his face would go bright red, knowing he’d made a mistake.

But the thing was, that changed the day after they’d hooked up.  They were still friends, they still hung out, and it wasn’t necessarily awkward, but it was different.  He didn’t call her cute names anymore, not even sweetheart.  He stuck solely to his nickname for her.

She wasn’t sure if it was because of their incident, or because she was seeing someone.  It often felt like she was walking on eggshells around him, unsure of what to say or do.  It was like as soon as they’d crossed the line between friends and more than friends, she wasn’t sure how to go back to being just friends.

And she hadn’t ever thought of Richie as boyfriend material.  Even when they’d hooked up, she hadn’t considered the idea of being with him romantically.  Sure, he was attractive and funny and… charismatic, exciting, and somehow tender at the same time-”

“Babe..? Babe?”

(y/n) snapped back to reality, spinning around to see her boyfriend standing behind her.  He gave a short laugh before nodding to the dish in her hand that she must have been scrubbing for a few minutes now.

“Daydreaming?” He asks, while she bashfully set the very clean plate on the counter.

“Something like that” She replied, and went on to cleaning the next dish.

They’d had a nice dinner, one they both prepared.  She thought it would be fun to cook with him, maybe they would even listen to music and dance around the tiled floor.  But her boyfriend wasn’t that kind of guy, and this wasn’t a romantic comedy.

Richie would dance in the kitchen with me-

“So!” (y/n) spoke, a little too loud as she tried to rid her own thoughts from her head.  “Movie?”

Her boyfriend grinned, and gave her a thumbs up before leaving the kitchen and heading to the living room to pick out a good movie for them to watch.

(y/n) went back to distracting herself with doing the dishes.  But her pesky thoughts kept on getting in the way of her task.

Thinking of Richie in a romantic light made her feel dazed.  He was Richie.  Trashmouth Tozier, the boy she grew up with that was infamous for trying to ride his bike off the cliffside at the quarry.  He wasn’t someone you had a crush on, he was someone you always had a dumb story about.

But besides that, it simply wasn’t fair of her to think of him this way.  They had both agreed that what they had was a one time thing, and it didn’t mean anything to either of them.  They were just friends, and that was all either of them wanted to be.

At least, that’s what she’d always told herself.

But when she thought back on last summer, all she could remember was how badly she wanted him to kiss her that whole night.  And when he finally had… it felt like she was flying.

Drying the last dish, she left it on the counter, and forced herself to relax on the couch with her boyfriend.

Whatever movie he’d picked, she’d never heard of, and it only took seven minutes of watching it for her to realize why.  It was boring.

She was so damn near close to passing out, even though he seemed excited to share it with her.

“Hey,” She hummed after half an hour of forcing herself to stay awake.  He hummed in response, but didn’t look away from the television.  

So she took matters into her own hands, and turned his head so she could kiss him.

She poured all of the passion that she could into the kiss, hoping to convey that she wanted him, and she wanted him now.

But how could she do such a thing when it wasn’t true? She simply wasn’t convincing enough.  Not to him, or herself.

Defeated, she pulled away from him, and by the look on his face, she knew that he sensed her disappointment.  Which was ironic, because he had never been in sync with her emotions in the last four and a half months they’d been together.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

There was a deep frown on her face, and her eyes were so apologetic that he just knew what was coming next.

“I’m sorry” She mumbled out.

“(y/n)...?” He was hoping that by some miracle she wasn’t about to break up with him.

“I can’t do this anymore” She finished weakly, voice cracking a bit as her throat burned with tears.

“What do you mean?” He asked.  “What’s wrong? What happened?”

She didn’t say anything, just shut her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to keep herself from crying.  It would be pathetic if she broke up with him and she was the one to cry about it.

“Whatever it is I can work on it, we can fix it-”

“No, you can’t-”

“Yes I can-”

“You can’t fix this!” She shouted, not meaning to come off as angry, but her emotions had flustered her and it was making her frustrated.  “Because there’s nothing to fix, there’s nothing here” She clarified, her hands flying between them.

“What do you mean there’s nothing here?” He asked, sounding broken.  For a moment, she felt bad for saying something so cruel.  “Is there someone else?”

And then her guilt disappeared.

“What? Of course not-”

“Well there- there has to be!”

“Well there isn’t!” She shouted back.  “Jesus Christ, don’t make this more difficult than it has to be,” She rolled her eyes.  “I don’t feel anything, anything, for you! I thought with time that I could learn to love you, but I haven’t.  There’s no spark-”

He seized forward, taking her face in his hands and kissing her frantically.

But just as soon as his mouth crushed over hers, she shoved his shoulders with all the force she could muster, and leapt off of the sofa.

She was stunned to silence at first, surprised that he’d done something so dramatic and… disgusting.

“I’m done,” She said, heading for the door, and putting on her shoes and coat with lightning speed.  “Don’t fucking call me- don’t talk to me at school, I’m done”

He tried to call after her, but she slammed the door behind her as she stormed out, and ran down the sidewalk, just in case he had the idiotic idea to chase after her.

She slowed at the end of the block, mentally striking herself upside the head at the thought.  Of course he wouldn't chase after her.  It would be an act of passion for him to pursue her, and he would be in denial to think he was any more in love with her than she was with him.

It dawned on her that she’d been in denial for the past four months for thinking she could learn to love him.  You can’t learn to love anybody, it has to come naturally.  And there wasn’t one natural thing about their relationship.

She wrapped her arms around herself to keep warm in the chilly december air, and walked the rest of the way home.  She’d had enough of today, and just wanted to crawl into bed, and try not to cry. ___

When the doorbell rang, Richie ignored it.  Surely his parents would get it, and he could stay in bed.

When it rang again, he shoved his pillow over his head.

It wasn’t until the third time the sound rang that he remembered his parents were at an event in Augusta tonight.

So with a groan, and the realization that whoever it was, wasn’t going to go away, he dragged himself out of bed, and down the stairs.

It was almost midnight, who the fuck was a the door? He decided if it was some freshman ding-dong ditching him, that he’d run them down and ruin their shit.

When he whipped open the door, he also opened his can of whoop ass on the unsuspecting freshman.

“Do you realize that it’s the middle of the fucking ni-”

He shut up real fast when he realized it was (y/n) standing there, who now looked incredibly taken off guard to have been greeted so harshly.

“(y/n)?”

It was only then that he realized she was crying softly.

“Oh- oh my god, I’m sorry-  I thought you were-”

“It’s fine” She said, and then sniffled quietly.

“What- what are you-”

“I’m sorry, it’s not r-right of me to show up in the middle of the night,” She whimpered a little bit, and wiped her sleeve over her cheeks to get rid of her tears.  “I should go home-”

“No,” Richie reached out, taking her wrist and tugging her inside.  “Come in, stay” He rushed the words out while shutting the door, not wanting her to leave, and especially not like this.

She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to stop her own shivering.  She didn’t even want to look at Richie while crying, but at the same time-

“So what’s going on-?”

Before he could even finish talking, she threw her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder.

Richie stumbled a bit from the sudden force of her hug, but wrapped his arms around her nonetheless and hugged her tightly.

It was obvious that she was trying to stop crying in front of him, but she just couldn’t help it.

“Did something happen?” He asked, but received no answer.  “Are you hurt?”

He could feel her tears seeping into the fabric of his tee shirt.

“Hey, sweetheart,” He called softly, and pulled her away to look at her.  She kept her eyes shut, which made him chuckle, but eventually she looked up at him.  “Come on, (y/n/n),” He hummed.  “Talk to me”

She took in a deep breath, and Richie mentally prepared himself for whatever was going to come next.  It must be serious if she came to him instead of Beverly, or Eddie.

“I couldn’t have sex with him” She murmured.

Richie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and confusion, and a feeling he wasn’t quite sure of.  He never would have guessed that’s what had her so distraught.

“Um…”

“I know,” (y/n) cried out, tears streaming down her cheeks again.  “It’s pathetic, I’m so pathetic!”

“(y/n),” Richie said, setting his hands on her shoulders so she would calm down.  “You’re not- where is this coming from? Why are you so upset about this?”

It took her a minute to catch her breath, and her tears hadn’t really stopped flooding, but at least she could speak again.

“I broke up with him” She admitted.

Richie’s eyes widened, and again, she’d done what he’d least expected.  Her eyes were darting between his, trying to figure out what he was thinking.  But he looked so shocked, she couldn’t tell.

“Do you think I made a mistake?” She asked in a murur, her hands resting against his chest, and her body gravitating towards his a bit more from the sensitive question.

“I…”

He was having a hard time maintaining eye contact with her, his brain moving far too fast and his train of thought going in too many different directions for him to comprehend what he even thought.

“You do, don’t you?” (y/n) asked defeatedly.  “I should’ve tried harder- maybe I could have loved him-?”

“What? (y/n), no, don’t think like that,” He scolded her gently.  “If you didn’t feel anything, then that’s it, that’s the end, it didn’t work”

She stares down at her feet.

“(y/n)...” Richie sighed, lifting her chin softly with his hand.  “Did you even like him?”

She shrugged her shoulders, which was answer enough.

“Oh, (y/n),” His thumb stroked gently against her jaw, before he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her again.  “If you didn’t like him there was never even a chance of you falling in love- that’s just not how it works sweetheart”

(y/n) grabbed the back of his shirt in her fists, just wanting to hold onto him for a few moments longer.

“How’s it work?” She mumbled into his shoulder after embracing for a few moments.

“Well first of all, you don’t learn to do it, it just happens,” He chuckles, and his hands begin to rhythmically rub her back.  “And you won’t find them boring.  That guy was a sack of fucking potatoes (y/n/n) I don’t know what you were doing with him-”

“Yeah yeah I get it,” She cut him off before he could go on.  “What else?” Her voice was so soft, so full of curiosity for where these kind words were coming from, that she just had to know what more Richie thought about the subject.

“Well…” He hummed, still rubbing her back as he thought.  “You typically enjoy their company, more than anyone else’s, even if you won’t admit it,” He was thinking out loud.  “And they’ll always be the prettiest thing in your eyes- even when they won’t stop crying all over you” He teased.

She glared up at him, and wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

“Come on, be real,” She said.  “He was nice, and cute, and he really liked me, why wasn’t there a spark?”

He shook his head at her.

“Like I said.  Can’t learn to love someone, and you can’t force what isn’t there,” He shrugged.  “I’m sorry though.  You’re clearly bothered by it”

She wanted to explain that she wasn’t bothered by the breakup at all.  She was bothered by the mixup in her feelings.  By what she thought to be true- but wasn’t quite sure yet.

“You want tea? Or something?” He offered after she hadn’t spoken for a few beats.

“No,” She shook her head, and then stepped back from him.  “A blanket would be nice though? I had to walk the whole way here and it’s freezing”

Richie chuckled, and nodded.

“‘I’ll get one from upstairs.  Be right back”

He headed off rather quickly, taking the steps two at a time to get a blanket from his room.

The one time she’d stayed overnight, she’d really liked one of his- and he’d know, because she hogged it, and he had to wake her up to get her to share.  So he figured that one would do fine.

At the sound of a soft knocking at his door frame, he turned to see (y/n) standing there.

Her eyes were wandering around his room, mapping it out like it was her first time here.  However, she hadn’t been here since…

He didn’t miss the blush on her cheeks when her gaze landed on his bed, the covers messed up from his attempts to sleep earlier.  And then finally, she looked at him.

“Oh,” She smiled, and walked into the room, taking the blanket from his hands.  “You remembered” She said with a small laugh as she wrapped it tightly around herself.

It was still a little bit warmed, and smelled so distinctly like Richie, it made her want to melt into it.  And she nearly did for a moment.

“Well how could I you almost made me freeze to death that night”  He muttered teasingly.

“Fuck off, I did not” She played back, but her voice was much gentler than his.

He gave her a look as if to say ‘you did though’, which she only rolled her eyes to.

Deciding it’d be best to ignore him, she walked over to his dresser to excitedly play with his fish.  It didn’t do much, but it did swim back and forth in front of her finger, which was amusing enough.

“You… want to watch a movie?” Richie asked.

He didn’t want her to leave, but he didn’t know how to offer her to stay the night either.

“Sure” She answered, and followed him downstairs.

Richie made her pick the movie, that way whatever they watched she wouldn’t lose interest in.

“What?” She’s asked when he tried to leave the room for popcorn.

“I said pick whatever you want so you actually watch it and enjoy it” Richie repeated himself, and was in the kitchen before he could see her face change expressions.

Her heart skipped a beat in her chest, and all she could do was stare at where he stood with his back to her.  She didn’t even bother looking at his DVD collection, and followed him into the kitchen.

“You want me to pick a movie I like?” She asked him.

Richie gave her a weird look over his shoulder as she set the timer on the microwave.

“What? Yeah” He answered.

“But you’ll hate it,” She said matter-of-factly.  “It’s a chick flick, it’s real cheesy, not even Eds would watch it with me”

“Okay?” Richie repeated.  “You setting me up to hate it?”

She stared at him skeptically, and Richie had a similar look on his face, but only because he was very confused.

“Just pick a movie, (y/n/n), anyone’s fine” He chuckled.

He pulled the bag of popcorn out of the mic when it beeped, and dumped it’s contents into a large bowl.  When he turned back around, (y/n) was still standing there.  His brows furrowed, and he popped a kernel into his mouth.

“Would you dance with me?” She asked him.

Her volume was so soft he almost didn’t catch what she’d said, but when he processed the words, he was sure he’d heard her wrong.

“What?”

“Would you dance with me?” She repeated, a bit more clearly.  “If I asked?”

“Is…. that what you want to do?” Richie spoke unsurely, trying to figure out what part of the breakup process ‘dancing’ would fall under.  He shoved more popcorn into his mouth.

“I just wanna know” She shrugged.

“I mean, sure, but then the popcorn would get cold, it’s only good when it’s-”

“Richie” She mumbled, and by some miracle he actually heard her, and stopped rambling.  He knows from the way she’s staring at him, and the sudden softness in her voice that something’s up.  He waits for her to continue, but she doesn’t.

“What?” He feels like he’s lost, because he really has no idea what’s going on with her tonight.  This breakup had really thrown her for a loop, he supposed

“Nothing” She shook her head, and before he could question her about her strange behavior, snatched the popcorn bowl and made a break for the living room.

When they got settled on the sofa and the movie (y/n) picked began to play.  They were sat side by side, the bowl of popcorn separating them.  She tucked her feet up underneath her in an attempt to be more comfortable, and kept on fussing with the blanket.  It was like no matter how many times she readjusted, she just couldn’t get settled.

Eventually, she sighed, and looked over at Richie.

Low and behold, he was completely wrapped up in the plot of the movie, and hadn’t noticed a thing.  (y/n) smiled at this, loving that he’d actually gotten into her lame romantic comedy.  She leaned her head back on the cushion as she admired him.  He was so serious when he was focused on something, his jaw set in place, eyes trained on the screen.  It was so cute how drawn into the movie he really was.

Something happened that made him laugh, and he turned to (y/n) to crack a joke about it, but whatever he was about to say was lost on him when he caught her eyes already locked on him.

“Would you do it again?” She asked, before he could think of anything to say.  He doesn’t have to ask her to clarify what she means, because he knows, he can tell by the way she’s studying him.  “Ever?” She adds in a mumble after he’s been quiet for just a beat too long.

“Well, that’s a trick question now isn’t it?” He chuckles, but she shakes her head.

“No,” She speaks softly, “It’s not, I’m just wondering,”

She’s looking up at him so innocently that he wonders what sparked this question.  Not that he hadn’t been thinking about it every minute of every day for the past four and a half months or so.  He just didn’t think it ever crossed her mind.  They had sworn to each other that it was a one time thing, no pesky strings or feelings attached.  And Richie had thought she’d stuck to that promise pretty well- mostly because not a week later she’d gotten asked out, and then she dated the guy for a while.  

“There’s no wrong answer, Rich,” She giggles, a nervous little sound that was the result of her heart doing backflips in her chest.  “Really”

His eyes flicker between her impatient ones, testing to see if that were really true.

“Kind of” He says.

Her brows furrowed, signaling that there apparently was a wrong answer, and he’d said it.

“Kind of-?”

“Well, there’s a lot I’d do differently” He muses with a shrug of his shoulders, before she could get upset and ask him just what the hell ‘kind of’ means.

She angles her body a bit more towards his, waiting eagerly to hear what he has to say.  But he gives her a confused look.

“What would you do differently?” She asks.  She sounds restless, and Richie chuckles to himself.  “Come on, really”

“For starters, I wouldn’t have chosen to do it at my own houseparty.  Someone busted the coffee table you know, and I blame you for that-”

“What else?” She asks abruptly.

“Alright well,” Richie huffs, deciding there was no turning back now, because she was already more than eager to hear what he was thinking.  “Also probably should’ve been a little more sober, just a little,” She laughed quietly, but didn’t speak so that he’ll keep talking.  “And I would’ve grabbed an extra blanket, had I known you were a blanket hogger”

She laughs again, and this time he laughs with her.  It’s a sweet moment, for it being so vulnerable.

“And I would’ve made sure you didn’t go in the morning” He confesses, in the midst of their laughter.  (y/n’s) laughter stops instantaneously.

“What?” She murmurs, like she’d heard him wrong, because she must have heard him wrong.

“Yeah,” He shrugs.  “I wouldn’t have let you go”

She blinks, stunned.

“You wanted me to stay?” She asks, a sweet little whisper that was bound to make everything come crashing down.

“Of course I did,” Richie chuckles.  “I’d be an idiot to let you- I was an idiot to let you go.  I hated that feeling,”

She’s silent again, her lips parted as the more he explained himself, the more surprised she was.

“It felt like- like I’d made the biggest mistake of my life- and trust me sweetheart, sleeping with you was a miracle- but if I could do it over again I wish that I could’ve...um…”

She’s waiting, hanging on to every word he spoke.  She doesn’t realize that she’s leaning closer to him, too antsy to wait for him to find his voice.

“(y/n/n) if I’m being honest then I would’ve told you how I felt- about you- that night”

“How you felt about me?” She repeats in disbelief, and then sits upright on the couch, realizing they’re only a few inches away from one another.  

Richie watches her as she takes the popcorn bowl and sets it to the side.  And then leans back in towards him again, giving him her undivided attention.

“And how did you feel about me?” She murmurs.

Her hands set on his wrists, grasping onto them softly as his hands reach out to wrap around her waist.

“How didn’t I feel- Jesus I liked you so much I lost my fucking mind when you wanted me too”

Once he’s holding her firmly, she lets go of his hands to rest her palms on his shoulders, tilting up towards him to be more at his height.  Even sat on the couch Richie practically towered over her.

“I didn’t know it was more to you than a quick fuck” She hums.  Her voice is too sweet to be saying something so filthy, and it makes him chuckle just a bit.

He couldn’t help but tug her hips forwards, small prod really, but she took the bait and swung her leg over his lap.

“There was nothing quick about it sweetheart,” He teases, and as she situates herself on his lap, he releases one of his hands from her waist to gently trail his fingers over her throat, until his hand settles against the side of her neck.  She’s blushing, but she’s smiling with anticipation.

He pulls her towards him a bit, and the tip of her nose presses against his cheek, her lips barely ghosting his.  When her eyes flickered shut, Richie smirks

“And you were never a quick fuck”

She leans in, wanting nothing more than to kiss him and never stop.  There was more electricity between them in this moment than she’d ever felt with her ex, and the realization made her feel like she was alive again.

Just as her moment of liberation is about to happen, the doorbell rings.

Richie brushes it off and cups her cheek, leaning in to kiss her anyways, but then his visitor started screaming.

“Richiieeee!” The distinct voice of Eddie Kaspbrack rings out from the other side of the door.  “Dude! Open up! I got some drama for you!”

Richie and (y/n) turn to look at each other, equally confused.

“Let’s just pretend he’s not there” Richie says, making her giggle as he finally tries to kiss her.

And then Eddie lets himself in.

“I’m coming in!” He announces, and shuts the door behind him.  “You’re not gonna believe this! (y/n) broke up with-”

It doesn’t surprise the couple on the couch when Eddie stops talking, and stares wide eyed and open mouthed.

“What the fuck is going on here!?” He’s screaming, which also isn’t a surprise, but it’s very upsetting.

(y/n) calmly slides off of Richie’s lap, and he lets go of his hold on her.

“Nothing” They say at the same time, unconvincingly.

“You were on his lap-” Eddie accuses.

“I-”

“You were kissing-!”

“No-?” Richie tries.

“You guys have been fucking this whole time!” He screeches.

“No!” Richie and (y/n) speak simultaneously again.

“Wait,” (y/n) walks over to Eddie.  “How did you know I broke up with-”

“He called me” Eddie shrugged.

“What?”

“Yeah, he was trying to call you, but you never picked up.  Clearly you weren’t home, because you were here, letting Richie get in your pants- jesus fuck (y/n) I thought you had better standards-”

“Stop it” (y/n) hissed, before frustratedly running her hands through her hair.

Richie shot up from the couch, walking over in hopes of convincing her to sit back down and relax again.  But she shrugged off his hand and continued to pace around between him and Eddie.

“Very uncool, dickwad” Richie muttered to Eddie, who gave him an exasperated look and flipped him off.

“Why’d you come here then?” (y/n) spoke up.

“Um… huh?” Eddie played stupid.

“Why’d you come here? If my ex called you looking for me, why’d you come to tell Richie the news?”

Eddie and Richie shared a look, only making the girl more confused.

“I- well I thought you’d be here, you know, for support-”

Eddie shut up when the girl narrowed her eyes in disbelief.  He was never a good liar, and (y/n) had a pretty good bullshit detector.

“This isn’t important,” Eddie shook his head.  “What’s important is that he’s heartbroken, and looking for y-”

“I don’t care,” (y/n) said with a humorless chuckle as she crossed her arms over her chest.  “I don’t fucking care! He’s the worst, and he’s insane to think that he was ever in love with me.  Had a real boring way of expressing it-”

“Uh, I’m not here to tell you to get back together with him” Eddie said before she could yell anymore.

“What are you here for, then?” (y/n) asked.

“I could ask you the same thing” Eddie shoots back, and smirks victoriously between the two.

Richie’s just standing there, knowing better than to open his mouth.  If he did, something bad would slip and he knew it, so he stared down at the ground.

(y/n) puckers her lips, casting a glance to Rich before back to Eddie.

“Well?” The asthmatic boy asks.  “What the fuck were you guys up to?”

“None of your business,” Richie says before (y/n) has the chance to say anything.  “You should go, Eds, I’ll call you tomorrow.  We’re busy”

“With what?” Eddie’s practically daring Richie to confess.

“We’re watching a movie, don’t make me fucking kick you out”

Eddie rolls his eyes, bored with the lack of drama, and then heads for the door.

As soon as he closes it, he whips it open again, pointing an accusatory finger at the pair left standing there, as if he’d caught them in the act.

“Go, Eds” They both say, with the utmost annoyance in their voices.

This time when he left, they both watched the door, as if waiting for him to jump back into the room again.  When it was clear he’d actually gone this time, (y/n) let out a sigh of relief.

She looked at Richie, and then back to the couch, where the movie, the popcorn bowl, and her blanket were left unattended.

“I should probably g-”

“You wanna stay the night?” Richie asked before she could finish her sentence, and her eyes shot up to his.

“Really?” She asked in disbelief.

Richie just nodded, and so she hesitantly nodded back.

“Okay” She agreed softly.

“I’ll find something for you to sleep in,” He told her.  “You can finish the movie if you want” And with that he headed up the stairs.

At this point, she was more confused than ever.  She had no idea where her and Richie stood now, the line between friendship and something… else… was so warped in her mind that she couldn’t tell how he felt anymore.

Richie came back down a few minutes later, finding her sat on the couch with the movie paused and the popcorn bowl in her lap.  He grinned as he handed her a long sleeved shirt and a pair of sweatpants that looked very soft.

After changing quickly in the bathroom, she concluded they were the coziest things she’d ever worn.  And Richie’s scent and laundry detergent lingered in them, making every inhale of breath she took be inviting.

When she came back out, Richie was on the couch, just waiting.  His back was turned to her, and she could tell he was drumming his hands on his legs, a frequently done nervous habit of his.

She stood there for a moment, too anxious to walk over and sit with him like nothing had happened in the last half hour.  Even though with everything that’s happened, her heart was beating a mile a minute with no end in sight.

Richie must’ve realized she was there, because he turned and made a face as if to ask why she was just standing there.

His expression softened though when his eyes landed on her figure.  She looked so goddamn cute in his clothes that were just a bit too big for her.  And by just a bit, I mean the sleeves kept falling over her hands and the waistband of the sweatpants had probably been rolled three times to keep the fabric from barely touching the ground.

He thought he was gonna have a stroke.

“You gonna come sit, sweetheart?” He finally spoke, “Or just stand there and look pretty all night?”

She laughs, and the tension in the room thins out a little as she makes her way over to sit with him again.  Richie plays the movie again, and just like before, gets sucked right into it.

(y/n) sort of watches it, but has little attachment to what’s going on.  Her mind is too busy processing everything, there was no capacity to keep an eye on a film as well.

The popcorn bowl is empty, so she can’t distract herself with eating.  And she’s already tapping her fingers on her knee to a made up beat in her mind.  How Richie is able to actually watch this movie right now is beyond her.

“(y/n)?” He asks, and she realizes he’s been staring at her for a while, trying to get her attention.  She hums in response.  “Do you want me to shut off the movie?”

Her eyes are wide as they meet his.

“W-why?” She stammers out.

“Because you aren’t paying attention at all,” He chuckles.  “Are you tired? It is like… one in the morning”

“Uh- yeah, I-I guess” She stumbles over her words again, and balls up the fabric of her blanket in her hands.

He gives her a dorky little smile, and then stands to turn off the tv.  She watches him grab the empty bowl before leaving the room.

She gets up to follow him into the kitchen, but he waved her off.

“You should go up to bed,” He says.  “I’ll finish up down here”

She doesn’t know what else to say, so she follows the instructions.

It dawns on her that she hasn’t told her parents that she won’t be coming home tonight, but as she gets situated in Richie’s bed with her new favorite blanket, she just can’t seem to care.  She decides a lecture when she comes home tomorrow is worth it.

She’s under all the covers, and her face is buried deep into a pillow when Richie finally comes up.  He smirks at how settled she’s already gotten.

“You sleeping already?” He asks quietly, and her eyes open to smile at him.

“No, ‘m waiting” She hums, before snuggling her face back into her pillow.

“Waiting?” He asks, and walks closer to hear her better.

“Mhm”

“For… Santa?”

“For you, dummy,” She giggles softly, and then makes a grabby hand towards him.  “Hurry up”

He laughs, and shakes his head at her, before kneeling onto the bed.

“I kinda thought I should sleep on the-”

“In here,” She whispers, hand finding his wrist and latching onto it.  “With me, please” She adds in a much softer voice, like she’s embarrassed to ask, and he knows that she is.

“Okay…” Richie hesitantly gets under the covers.  “As long as that doesn’t bother you”

“It didn’t before” She replies casually.

Her eyes are closed, but he smiles warmly at the comment.  He thinks she’s falling asleep, but he was wrong, because her hand trailed from his wrist so that her fingertips were pressed into his palm.

“Richie?” She calls quietly.

He hums.

Her eyes open, and she squirms a little closer to him, finding comfort in the heat he radiated.

Her fingers slot into the spaces between his perfectly, and she grasps his hand tight.

“You weren’t a quick fuck for me either,” She admits gently.

He can see in her eyes that she’s uncertain, that she’s nervous to say anything, so he squeezes her hand to reassure her that she can tell him anything.

“And I wanted you long before that night, I just… um…” She licks her lips anxiously before continuing.  “I didn’t think that you uh… actually wanted me, you know, like, more than…” She doesn’t finish her thought, but she doesn’t have to.

Richie gives her a smile, and then reaches his free hand out to brush his knuckles over her cheek.  She smiles back at the comforting touch.

“You’ll stay in the morning?” He whispers, and she nods, brows drawn together as her smile widens.  “Good” He breathes out in relief.

They lean in simultaneously, and their lips touch in a soft and sweet kiss.  (y/n) relishes in how her lips seemed to have his committed to memory, and she melts against him once again.

She pushes forward so that her body is flush against his, and her free hand is holding his shirt in a fist.  She’s filled with more love and lust and happiness that a girl can be, practically overflowing with it, even.

Richie pulls away too soon for her liking, tucking a strand of her hair back behind her ear tenderly before meeting her gaze.

“If anyone asks,” He tells her, “That was our first kiss”

(y/n) giggles, and nods her head before kissing him sweetly again.

“Okay” She agrees.

His fingers comb through her hair for a few moments, and he contemplates laying here, like this, with her, for the rest of his life.  The quiet moment is so serene, so perfect, that he can’t imagine ever being happier than he is right now.

(y/n) whispers something, but it’s so soft that he only catches her lips moving.

“What?” He muses, and instantly there’s a pink blush blooming across her cheeks.  “What?” He asks again, this time chuckling at her bashfulness.

“I love you…” She murmurs, only darkening her blush.

Richie pulls her into his chest, wrapping her up in his arms as he cradles her close for the night.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” He responds with a kiss to the top of her head.  “Let’s do it right this time, okay?”

“M’kay” She hums back delightedly, already beginning to fall asleep in his arms.

It took months of agony and confusion to get here, but it couldn’t be clearer now.  This is what love was supposed to feel like.  She hadn’t learned to love before because that’s simply not how it works.  Her heart already belonged to someone else, and she hardly even knew it.  But now, it and she were all his, and he’d take good care of them.

[ i guess that’s love, i can’t pretend. ]

___

taglist: @fiantomartell​ @lemonypink @darling-egg​​

xoxo ~ jordie

[vorish-musing]

Risky Business (IT Chapter Two)

Summary: Eddie is a monster hunter, he’s called back to his hometown, there's another man eating monster, he just never realized how fucked this job could be.

Warnings: this story contains soft, safe, G/t vore. if you do not like this, I suggest not reading. this is also not a story for the faint of heart, there is (not super graphic) moments of fatal/hard vore, digestion mention (does not occur), fearplay, and the usual cussing warning.  

Hi guys! its been so long! I’ll be honest, i was not planning on posting this, since this was a WIP discarded back in march, but while watching the movie again, I realized I needed to finish this, I really hope y’all like it!

NSFW DO NOT INTERACT

Risk analysis? Was that Job invented before fun?

Well, it Depends on what you call ‘fun’

For Eddie Kaspbrak, risk analysis is fun.

He couldn’t remember much of his past, all that he knew was that monsters existed, the ones that hid under your bed, the ones that prey in the night, he didn’t know how he discovered this for the longest time, he just... knew.

He knew he had to have encountered a monster at one point, but he just couldn't remember when.

His first instinct was to kill these monsters, though after further consideration of how the ethics of that worked, plus the morality of him being the judge, jury and executioner was pretty skewed. He decided to analyze these creatures, at least the ones he found. Witches, Vampires, werewolves, ghosts.

So yeah, he was a Risk Analysis, he analyzed creatures that we’re a risk to human kind.

And yes, it was Fun.

Being a part of a small group of people who knew these monster movie critters existed was something he wished he could brag about.

Though everything changed when he got that call from Mike Hanlon, Begging him to come back to Derry to fight that clown. That damned clown.

His memories flooded back, the childhood trauma of that summer, 1989, when everyone they knew started turning up missing, really they were dead, nothing more than food to the demon living in the sewers

It was then, fighting that demon, when he realized that analyzing these monsters wasn’t enough anymore.

They were not a risk, they were a threat.

Once he got back to his home in new york, he began his own business, he tried finding his way into different circles, ones he never thought existed, multiple people with stories of slaying beasts of all shapes and sizes, and he was now one of them.

He got a second phone, one he could use for his side job, he went under an alias, Richie Marsh. Not creative, a little embarrassing,  but it worked.

He would get calls almost daily, he made pretty good money, but he had one rule, only kill if it had harmed first. He always turned the monsters who had done no wrong away, allowed him to get some sleep at night, knowing that he was saving others lives while doing this.

Hell, the first time he met a vampire, the dude just chilled alone in a cabin in the woods. Not bothering anybody.

He began making a name for himself in the business and it had only been a year, it was impressive to all about his knowledge, how much he knew about these creatures, how fearless he could be.

Up to this day, he scribbled down notes about the varying creatures he saw and met. Sitting in his living room, the constant scritch of his pencil was interrupted by a ringing from his pocket.

He took his ‘work’ phone out of his jeans, putting the device to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Is this Richie Marsh?” A familiar voice was heard on the other end, but he couldn’t quite place it.

Eddie ran a hand through his hair, thankful his phone had a voice modifier, just in case he actually knew the person on the other line.. Even though chances of that were slim to none. “Depends who’s asking”

with one hand, he took a sip of water in a glass, while with the other he opened a new page in his notebook, ready to write down this stranger's name.

“My name is Mike Hanlon, I was given this number by a friend, he told me you could help me”

Slim to none huh?

Eddie coughed up the drink back into his cup,“M-Mike Hanlon?”

“Uh...yes, I...I need your help”

Eddie scribbled down the name very quickly, though nothing in the world could make him forget it. “with what? What's going on?” he felt his heart racing, he didn’t want any of his friends to know what kind of danger he was putting himself into, he didn’t want them to know, or even try it themselves.

“Well… I live in Derry, Maine. There was a curse in this town...right? A monster, it killed a lot of people, but me and my friends… we stopped it.” Mike's voice sounded nervous.

“I...see…” Eddie’s voice wavered, hoping that this wouldn’t be another call back to defeat a killer clown “if you stopped it, why are you calling?”

“Because people are going missing again, but I know it's not what we fought, it's something else, nothing is being left behind, they’re just...vanishing.”

Eddie scribbled a few words down, his throat getting dry as he began to sweat nervously “okay...what's the age range of the missing persons?”

Please don't be kids….please don’t be kids.

“All adults, the other creature went for children, and those killings lasted for a year at least. This happens every few weeks, from my calculations, it's once every 3 weeks, and if I'm right, they're supposed to be here by Friday, they start hunting at night.”

Eddie couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief as he wrote what mike was saying down, opening his laptop and began booking a flight for Friday afternoon “okay, got it. have you seen this creature.”

There was an awkward pause, before Mike answered, almost embarrassed, “No.”

“Then how do you know all of this?” He wanted to believe Mike was reading too much into things, that Derry wasn’t being terrorized with another monster.

“Because one of the missing people has come back, and she came to me-- I’m somewhat of a Private eye in this town” Eddie smiled--good for him, making a name for himself in Derry.

“I talked with this one lady, she told me that she didn’t remember much, but whatever was out there, her two friends were killed, she didn’t tell me how they died, or even how she escaped...she just woke up..”

Eddie scribbled some more “do you know how many there are?”

“No. but I believe there's more than one, if you come in the next few days we can meet up and-”

Eddie shot up out of his seat “NO!” he heard mike go silent, before adding “uh...no...i’d rather uh...keep my face a secret”

Mike let out a laugh “of course, of course. We will have to talk more though, I have many notes and things that I’ve observed-”

‘Text me them, I have to go”

“But-”

Eddie hung up before he could hear the rest of that sentence, falling back into his seat. He put both hands on his face and sighed loudly.

He had to go back to Derry, and he had to avoid seeing Mike there too. He let out a groan, sitting up and finishing the booking process, it was only two days away, but that gave him enough time to pack everything he needed.

Those two days went by very fast. Mike tried to pay, but Eddie insisted it be free, not wanting to take money from his friend. Next thing he knew, he was on a plane to Derry, a rental car waiting for him and another traumatic nostalgia trip was in his future.

Once the plane landed, he quickly made his way through the airport, wearing a baseball cap in a poor attempt to hide his face. He got into his rental car, driving as fast as he (legally) could on the roads to his hotel room, texting Mike that he had landed, and was going to scope out the locations where Mike had claimed the creatures were.

As he drove through the streets, he began noticing the missing persons signs, it reminded him of when he was young, and there were people he knew going missing. He shook his head. Whatever those creatures were, He was sure he would stop it.

He parked his car in front of the hotel, getting a room key and making his way up with his bags. He used to be very particular where he stayed, but as the months went on with this job, he would just take what he could get.

As he settled in, he got another call from Mike.

“If you need any help, I’m no stranger to killing monsters, just give me a call” Mike sounded worried, but it also sounded like he wanted Eddie to say yes to him coming along, but the man couldn’t bring himself to ask.

“I’m fine Mr. Hanlon. Thank you.”

“Okay, most of the missing persons were last seen around the woods, be careful, the trees go on and on, outside of the town and basically into the next, which is an hour away when Driving” Mike explained a few more things about the town, which of course, Eddie already knew about.

After speaking for a few more minutes about the plan, Eddie hung up the phone, it felt so awkward to be speaking to him under his alias, it was the most disconnected he had ever felt while on the job.

Once he gets all of his hunting gear in order, he puts it under the bed, just in case housekeeping decides to come in, and promptly leaves the room.

If he had to be here for the next day or so, he could at least go out and get some food.

As he walked down the streets of Derry, he made sure wherever he would go, nobody was following, and that nobody who knew him could recognize him.

He soon settled on a cafe near the hotel, walking into the establishment and ordering coffee with a BUNCH of espresso shots inside, after all, he needed all the energy he could get. He was usually much more healthy, but on jobs, he needed as much caffeine as humanly possible.

Sitting at an empty booth in the cafe, he took his journal out, scribbling a few notes down, his plan, he never really needed a plan, but it was nice to have one. He was sure this was a simple case that would be solved in less than an hour, so he didn’t pay much mind to it.

The barista comes to his table, setting his cup of pure caffeine down. Before she could leave, Eddie pulled out a $20 bill out of his wallet, giving it to her

“Save up every cent, get out of this town, it’ll be good for you” she gave him a confused look, like she was expecting him to pull it away as a joke, but with a look in his eyes, she took the money.

The barista smiled, her eyes bright and much more charismatic than his, “thank you sir.” she pocketed the money in her apron “ and that's the plan, as soon as I have enough money, I’m leaving this hell hole--just me and my shitty van. all the way to broadway”

He nodded as she walked away. He took a sip of his bitter drink, going over his notes a few more times--now should I ambush or wait--

“Eddie?”

His heart stopped dead as he snapped his head up, hearing his name, slamming the book closed.

His eyes met Richie's, who seemed equally as shocked to see him there. They stared at each other for a few moments.

W...why is he here?! He...he can’t be here now...what the fuck?

There was something off in Richie's overall appearance, he looked very sick, malnourished, hunched over and wearing clothes that looked like they hadn’t been washed in weeks, his eyes looked like he was coming straight from the morgue.

Though his face was one of shock and confusion as to why Eddie was in Derry that night, Eddie was almost disappointed Richie was not happy to see him there.

“Holy shit trashmouth” Eddie sat up straight “What the hell are you doing here?” He motioned for Richie to sit down, which the man obliged to very quickly.

“Just passing through, I have to get down to uh… Ludlow, Maine.” to this, Eddie was confused, it sounded like Richie was making things up on the spot “I uh...got a show down there, w-what are you doing in Derry?”

He knew when Richie was lying, he always knew, he never told Richie this, but since they grew up together, he watched the mannerisms he had when lying, and could always tell ever since.

But that's because he didn’t want to look stupid, believing what Richie said. Definitely not because he liked to watch the man, and DEFINITELY not because he admired him for lying with so much ease.

Definitely not.

Eddie nodded, taking a sip of coffee “Just uh…” he quickly thought of a lie, “Visiting Mike, I wanted to surprise him, plus, wanted to get away from New York for a while”

“Interesting.” Richie’s eyes fell to the journal Eddie was desperately trying to keep hidden “Aw, does Eddie have a diary?”

Eddie let his face falter a bit, showing off his worry, pulling his journal “its it’s for work, asshat” he narrowed his eyes.

Richie, one who usually would keep poking at Eddie, slumped back a bit “Well, I gotta get going, Nice seeing you around.” he stood up, ready to walk away.

“Wait, come on.” Eddie looked up at the man, extremely confused “are you okay, man? If I'm honest, you look like shit.”

“Yeah i'm...fine.I just gotta get some...thing to eat” Richie eyed him up and down slowly, before exiting the building without another word.

Eddie just stared at the door as Richie walked away, well, not really walking, he was pretty much stumbling away.

Though as he left, the two men from before waved at Richie, like they knew him...probably just fans, Eddie couldn’t afford to read too much into things.

He shook his head, taking another sip of his coffee and reopening his book once again, Richie was probably drunk, and there was no surprise there. Eddie noticed how much Richie would drink last time they met, and this behavior didn’t surprise him.

But it was strange.

He quickly finished up his cup of coffee, placing his cup at the edge of the table, another waitress quickly coming to pick it up as he left the coffee shop, holding onto his journal tightly as he walked through Derry.

He checked his phone, a few missed messages from Mike, sharing a few more of his findings, but Eddie couldn’t bother to read them, his mind was only on Richie.

Why was he lying? What was he doing here? Questions whizzed around his head. Did Richie know something? Did Mike call him too?

Eddie sighed, he better get back to his hotel room, no use thinking about it now. He had a task at hand, and he had to get ready in the next few hours.

And that he did.

He was prepared for everything, he had a few guesses to what the monster was, a werewolf, a demon? but nothing really fit perfectly. demons kill people, but it's not like they would let people escape. Werewolves fit better, you could escape one, but they were not very...cleanly with their kills.

Whatever it was, it was going to be killed, no matter how many there were.

An alarm went off in his phone, letting the man know it was time to leave, get to the woods and start investigating.

He grabbed his bag, filled to the brim with gear, and headed out the door, texting Mike that he was headed out, and that the man needed to refrain from further messages, until Eddie had texted first of course.

He placed his phone back into his pocket, swiftly leaving the building. It was only a twenty minute walk to the forest, but if it felt like forever, his body felt shaky, like he should just turn around.

He never felt like this before, he chalked it up to nerves, with being back in Derry. Something in him still believed it could be IT, but he knew that wasn’t the case. If it was, ‘Richie Marsh’ wouldn’t be out, it would be the losers.

Before he even knew it, he was in the woods, walking down a manmade concrete pathway, exactly where Mike told him to go, trees making it seem like he was walking through a hedge maze.

As he walked down the path, it seemed to get more and more confusing, like he couldn’t even remember where he was going, but thinking it was nerves, he kept going.

His heart stopped as he heard a woman's scream break the cold silence of the night, the sound of heels clicking on the concrete coming closer and closer.

As quick as he could, he bolted towards the sound of the woman, following her voice. He carefully took out a  gun from his bag as he ran down the pathway, his finger on the trigger.

Soon enough, a woman came into his field of vision, she was wearing a black apron, a dirty white shirt caked in blood, and a tattered pair of shorts.

it was the Barista from the coffee shop, She waved her arms wildly as she ran towards him, stumbling around like an animal.

“Please! Please help me! He’s gonna kill me!”

Eddie placed the gun back into his bag, putting it on his back and grabbing onto her as she ran into him.

Her makeup was running down her face, blood all over her skin, her hair was a mess, what once was a perfect simple bun, was now tangled with branches and all kinds of dirt in it.

“Ma’am calm down its okay we just-”

“No you don't understand! We can’t stay here we have to run!” She whisper-yelled at him, grabbing his arm and pulling him into the trees, straying from the pathway. “If they find us they’ll kill us!” she pulled him into a ditch, her breath shaky and tears flooding down her face.

“Okay… Okay take a deep breath, what the hell happened?” Eddie reached into his bag, grabbing his first-aid kit, ready to seal up any wound on her.

She took deep breaths, holding onto her arms as she shivered “these two guys, he… came into the cafe I work in, He was so nice” she let out a laugh, sniffling a sob. “I was so stupid, he asked me and my coworker out, and we said yes, it was supposed to be a walk in the woods, a nice walk… “

“Where’s your coworker now?” Eddie pulled out a cloth to wipe her off with, before he could give it to her, she began sobbing.

“The man…the thing! It ate her!” she said through her sobs. “While we were walking, they… they began saying weird things, like ‘dinner is ready' we didnt know what they meant! They meant us! This man came out of the woods, i called out to him, he just looked away, I think he was one of them.”

As she spoke, he watered down the cloth, giving it to her. “he...ate her?”

She sighed, wiping her face with the cloth, “this is going to sound crazy…”  she hesitated, sniffling again as she looked at him.

“I deal with crazy almost 3 times a week, this is why I’m here, you’re gonna be okay, this is my job.”

She nodded nervously “there was another man there, he was in the trees, before we could even say anything, all three of them...grew..into giants...and… my coworkers date...he picked her up and…”

She suddenly fell into a crying fit once more, falling into eddies lap, he rubbed her back, trying to console her.

“He… he bit her in half!” she screamed through sobs. “I got away, the one in the trees just watched me, who knows how close he is.”

He felt sick as she cried, and Eddie looked away from her… this wasn’t what he expected, no wonder nothing was making sense, there was nobody, because they would eat it.

He was about to say something, as they heard the sound of leaves crunching and branches breaking. “It's not my fault you lost the bitch”

The girl froze, her cries stopping out of fear, she covered her mouth. She shared a terrified look with Eddie, who shared the same look.

“Well it's not mine either, I was in the middle of eating!” the man sounded so nonchalant when talking about murder, but then again, most monsters weren’t remorseful.

“Will both of you shut the fuck up and just get on with it?” the voice sounded eerily familiar, but he couldn’t concentrate on it now.

The three men kept bickering, and the barista nodded to eddie, pointing to the other side of the ditch, mouthing the word “run”

He shook his head wildly, mouthing the word “no” over and over, if she did this, she would be dead.

Either she thought it would work, or she didn’t care if she died, but she ran up the side of the ditch, then began dashing through the woods once again, ignoring Eddie's silent pleas not to.

Instantly two out of the three men yelled, and began running as well, though their footsteps began getting louder and louder, Eddie shrunk back, trying to hide as best as he could.

He watched in horror as one of the giants walked over the ditch, which took them only one step, right above him, then another, then another, it was too dark to get a good look at any of them from his disadvantaged point.

But luckily, with all the noise they were making, he was able to run to the other side of the ditch, running up and hiding behind a large tree, digging through his bag, the best luck he would’ve had with killing these things, was his machete, thanking god that he actually brought it.

Eddie held it tightly to his chest, slowly turning to see what was happening.

“Let me go!” the Barista screamed as she was picked up by the giant, flailing around in his grip.

“Oh I’ll let you go alright,”

She gave him a strange look, before returning to her screams as he lifted her up over his head, his mouth agape.

“I’ll let you go now”

Eddie turned back behind the tree, hearing her screams as she was dropped into the giant's mouth, he wasn’t looking, but his mind pictured it. He felt sick to his stomach, anger bubbling up inside of him

He heard the screams of the woman suddenly stop, and a silence filled the air. Eddie knew what this meant, he felt like he was ready to vomit, his stomach twisting in knots

“Y’know you don't have to drag it out.”

“What? You’re just mad because you got jack shit, maybe you shouldn’t be so picky”

Eddie listened to the three bickers, waiting for the right time to move from tree to tree, making sure they couldn’t see him as he got closer.

In his head he knew this was a bad idea, that he was going to get caught, but this was the first time he had ever actually met a victim, he talked with her, even if it was brief, it pushed him more than anything else did, this wasn’t about money, for the sake of the town, no…

It was for Her.

He took a deep breath as he prepared to move to another tree, planning to climb it and attack in a much better position.

“Ah! I thought I heard something!” Eddie froze, hearing a booming voice behind him.

He. was. Fucked.

He instantly spun around, waving the machete up, he heard the giant let out a yell as the blade bit into its hand, which was about to grab eddie.

shitshitshit

Eddie backed up a bit, before taking off in a run, but it didn’t help, another came barreling in.. barrelling in Eddie's eyes, it was pretty much just a few steps for the giant, the last one just hung out in the back, basically ignoring the interaction.

Eddie prepared to swing again, but the giant in front of him didn’t move, just smirked, catching Eddie off guard, allowing the one behind him to snatch him up.

“Shit!” Eddie yelled as the sneak attack made him drop the machete on the ground.

“You little fucker…” the giant lifted him off the ground at a speed that made Eddie sick, never in his life had he wanted to be on the ground more than he was now, the cold wind made him cringe as he was face to face with the Giant.

Surprisingly, the man looked fairly normal, he wore a plain blue shirt with some black jeans, nothing like any fairy tale would describe it.

His eyes were damn near murderous, he held up his other hand ‘look what you fucking did.” Eddie struggled in the giant's grip, which only made the man laugh, “what? Little hunter doesn’t know what to say?”

Eddie sputtered a bit, how did they know he was a hunter?

“Looks like you got dinner after all, huh Rich?”

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

Rich...Rich...that voice...is that...NO….NONONO

Eddie's head whipped around as the third giant came closer to the other two...those glasses, those clothes...those eyes.

When those eyes met him, they shared the same look, the exact same look that they shared at the coffee shop. Eddie wanted to yell, but it seemed all the sound had left his body.

That's why Richie was in Derry...

“What's the matter?” the giant holding him pulled him closer, “don’t like knowing that you’re dinner?” he chuckled devilishly, Eddie didn’t respond, too horrified at richie to even register what the giant was saying “hey fucko! You listening?”

The giant shook Eddie a bit, still nothing, he gave a look to the other stranger, who just nodded, the same devilish smile pasted onto his face.

Without another word, he let Eddie go, plummeting towards the earth.

Eddie let out a loud yelp, it was almost in slow motion for him, falling through the air, hitting the cold, hard ground, he was sure a rib or two were fractured just by the pain he felt in his chest, but the pounding in his head was much...much worse. He couldn’t move, he could only listen to what they had to say.

“Why the fuck did you do that?” Richie pushed the giant who was holding Eddie, not even caring to remember his name “you could’ve just given him to me.”

Richie's heart sank as he saw the hunter in the giant hand, Eddie, he knew Eddie was lying about why he was in Derry, Eddie was just simply, a bad liar. But he had never expected something like this, he never wanted any of the losers to find out about this. It was bad enough he was hunting in Derry, only a mere half hour from Mike.

“Why not? The little fucker wouldn’t listen, so I gave it what it deserved.”

He felt anger overflow him as the giant talked about Eddie in this way, but he stayed silent, bending down, and picking up Eddie by the collar of his jacket, his body dangling at it rose up.

Eddie could barely move, everything hurt, he knew he was being lifted up once again, but he couldn’t do anything about it, what was he to do, his ribs were broken, he was winded and he was basically a doll to these guys.

He could hear Richie talking to the two, but he couldn’t really understand it, until one sentence was asked.

“So, You gonna chew ‘im?”

This sent Eddie back into his fit of panic, adrenaline coursing through his veins, he began cursing, kicking, wildly flailing. The two giants just laughed.

“Come on richie, you can chew this once, trust me, so much better experience.” Eddie couldn’t tell which of the two giants spoke, but he begged to whatever was out there, that Richie wouldn’t go through with it.

“I’m not a fan of blood, you should know that by now.” Richie rolled his eyes, his gaze back to Eddie, his heart breaking as he watched the man flail around, knowing he was in pain by the look on his face.

“The bitch thought he was going to kill us, he cut my fucking finger! Let him have it!” the giant pushed richie slightly, Richie giving him a glare.

“He's going to die anyways, why can’t I let myself enjoy him squirm?” Richie spoke, monotone. “I like how it feels when they go down.”

It was enough to make Eddie sick.

“It's your last hunt with us, go out with a bang! You got a fucking hunter after all…treat it like it treats our kind!”

“Fuck off, let me do it.'' His tone seemed almost protective, but with Eddie hearing a low gurgle of the man's stomach, Eddie knew it was like an animal protective of its prey.

The two just sighed, watching Richie...just...waiting.

Eddie paused as the giants fell into silence, staring up at Richie with tears in his eyes, his vision was blurry, and his head kept feeling worse and worse. “Please...don’t do this…” he found his voice, only to say that.

What else was he supposed to say? It was rich! The man he grew up with, the man he fought a killer clown demon with….the man...who was about to eat him.

Richie just sighed, lifting Eddie up carefully, much more carefully than the others would even dare, tilting his head up and placing Eddie right on his tongue. Letting go of the man and shutting his mouth.

Eddie's heart dropped at the quick action, Richie not even hesitating before putting Eddie into his mouth.

The heat inside richies mouth was enough to make Eddie let out a yell, going from chilly weather and a biting wind to a human sauna was not the best transition. The sensation of the wet, squishy muscle underneath him giving him a dose of reality-- He pushed against the roof of the mouth, hoping to re-open the mouth, but from the angle he was at, the throat was just becoming him.

He attempted to climb up the tongue, but no matter how close he would get to almost getting out, the saliva around him beckoned him down the tight, hot throat.

“Let me out!” Eddie yelled, but he knew it was no use, that Richie wouldn’t let him go, not after this. “Let me out you...fucking bastard!”

This was it? This is how he would go, he fought almost every dangerous creature in the book and won but he HAD to be eaten by someone he called a friend?

He felt himself getting weaker and weaker, his breath becoming more and more shortened with each breath. He found himself almost allowing his body to be pulled and squished around by the tongue, which happily licked at him.

He yelled as richie rolled him around, coating him in thick saliva in the process, but he really couldn’t do anything about it, the fear and fatigue getting to his head.

As the throat beckoned him down, he clawed at the tongue to keep himself out of the hot, wet esophagus “don’t do this!”

His words were met with no answer, but with a swallow.

Eddie yelled as his lower half was pulled into richies throat, he couldn’t move, which made him flail around even more, this was met with another swallow, thick muscles pulling the rest of him into the hungry throat and down the man's gullet, it was almost second nature to the man.

It must’ve been only a few seconds, but it felt like hours as he slid down the esophagus, unable to move and his Eddies head spinning with anxiety.

The one word spilling into Eddie's mind was only ....”Why?”

He pushed against the esophagus in an attempt to stop himself from sliding down any further, but all the saliva clinging to him and his clothes wouldn’t let him.

Suddenly, Eddie felt his legs slip into the stomach below him, gurgles and growls heard below him. As the rest of him slipped inside the belly, the whole experience became very...very real.

His head was dizzy from the lack of oxygen in the throat, and he couldn’t stop shaking at the thought of this being the final place he would be alive, nobody would know Richie had done it.

And that's the last thing Eddie Kaspbrack remembered, before passing out completely.

----------------------

Richie paused as he felt eddie go limp on his tongue for a few moments, he was scared this was too much for the little guy and his heart gave out, but the small man began to thrash around once more, which in a dark way, got him relieved, so he could continue.

This was a disaster, he hated how he had to eat people already, but the fact that it was Eddie made everything so much worse.

Richie should’ve known something was up when he saw Eddie in that cafe, he just couldn’t focus with the hunger eating him up inside.

Now it wasn’t only hunger eating him up...it was guilt.

He rolled Eddie around on his tongue a few more times, capturing the taste of the man.

he hated to admit it, but people tasted so good. It was almost like a drug for him, nothing really could sustain him for long, except for this. The longest he could go without eating a person was three weeks, he would move town to town with his tour, every few weeks swallowing a person to keep his energy up.

He carefully swallowed a few times, his Adam's apple bobbing as he brought his head back down, he could feel Eddie sliding slowly down his gullet, esophagus stretching as he did so it felt so...normal for him, like it was second nature.

One thing he was grateful for, was that he was the only guy that night who didn’t have a meal already lined up.

The past few weeks, meeting up with these guys got worse and worse, they were cruel, but for some reason they liked him, and would not leave him alone no matter how much he demanded them to, but tonight they agreed that tonight could be their last night

They always wanted it to be Derry, maybe because they lived there, maybe because the people tasted better. Richie didn't know, all he did was agree, since he didn't want one of their victims to become someone that he cared about. .

He felt guilty knowing the fates of the other two girls, but he knew he couldn’t stop it, they chose to kill those girls, they could’ve safely eaten them, but they chose to kill, which they thought he chose as well. He couldn’t change this, and it made him sick just to think about it.

As the two other giants shrank back down to their normal height, RIchie didn’t even bother to remember the jackasses names, they looked up at him.

“Sad to see ya go! Maybe we’ll meet up again!” one of them spoke, the other just nodded, before they both walked away.

sickos...

Richie stayed silent and still until they got out of sight, before letting out a deep breath, holding onto his stomach as he felt eddies body slip inside of it, it felt so...good to have someone in there again

But all according to plan,  he felt Eddie pass out, feeling his shallow breaths as he lay unconscious in his belly.

He was going to be okay...

----

It's too hot, It feels like I’m melting...I can’t move...I have to get out of here...I have to…

Eddie's eyes snapped open at the sound of a car horn, and a familiar yell, his head throbbing and he almost jumped out of his seat, he would’ve if he didn’t have his seatbelt on…

Seatbelt?!

Eddie's head snapped in every direction as he looked around, he was in a car, a blanket covering him...not where he thought he was...did...did he actually...no...he wasn’t...he couldn’t be… he wasn’t inside of a...

Richie let out a yell as Eddie popped up, making him swerve the car violently into the left lane, then back into the right lane, causing a chorus of more car horns to indicate that what he just did was an asshole move.

“Jesus fucking christ Eddie!” Richie yelled, “you scared the shit out of me!” he kept his eyes on the road, but the shock poured off of him like sweat.

Eddie just stared at richie as he drove, he could feel his body shaking at the sight of the man… he stammered for a moment, but he was only able to get out one word.

“Y-you…” his voice cracked a bit.

He didn’t want to believe it was true, but his clothes and hair being damp pointed out that might be the case, he felt his eyes sting with the threat of tears, never before had he felt this much Terror.

“I what eddie? I saved your life, what the fuck were you doing there?! If I wasn’t there you’d be fucking dead!” Richie turned to Eddie, giving him an angry look.

Richie was angry… at him?!

As Eddie got a good glypse at Richie, he noticed the man's face was red, his eyes a bit puffy, and he was shaking profusely, not to mention the cracks in his voice and the tears rolling down his face.

Richie was crying...Richie never cries…

“You actually...you fucking ate me?!’” Eddie finally worked up the courage to yell “What the fuck man?! I thought we were friends?!” his hand fell to his side, instinctively grabbing his knife holster, though only grabbing nothing, his knife lost in the fight earlier.

Richie didn’t respond, he just kept staring at the road. This just made Eddie angrier.

“You fucking piece of shit!” Eddie pulled the blanket off of him, shivering as his damp clothes absorbed the cold air around him. “You didn’t even tell any of us, you are a fucking m-monster!”

Again, silence, but he could see richie white knuckling the steering wheel.

Eddie could feel hot tears coming down from his eyes, “what's your plan now?” he couldn’t see himself leaving this vehicle alive, unless he hopped out the car door right now, even then he had a higher chance of ending up dead. “you should’ve made it quick like those other two fuckers did” he mumbled quietly.

Suddenly, Richie swerved across a few lanes, making Eddie slam into the car door instantly, which caused another abundance of yelling and anger from the man.

Richie didn’t say a word as he moved off of the highway, onto a local road, close to the treeline of the woods, slamming on the breaks at the closest place he could pull over at.

Eddie couldn’t help but be afraid of Richies silence, his slight shakiness as he held the wheel and the fact that Richie refused to make eye contact as he cried.

“I could’ve killed you.”  Richies voice cracked a slight bit.

Eddies heart sunk hearing those words, he could feel every bit of fear he had felt before hit him once again “R-Richie...I-I-”

“I could have done everything I said I would out there, and you could imagine what they would do if I wasn’t there…”

“Richie...p-please-”

“But I wouldn’t...I...I can’t Ed’s!” Richie lost all of his composure, and began yelling “I couldn’t let anything happen to you! What the hell were you thinking going after us? You could’ve died, Killing IT was one thing, but you’re alone!”

Eddie stared at him with a shocked expression, he felt his face flush, even if he was angry and scared, he was almost embarrassed, he felt like a child being berated by a parent, he frowned.

“You. ate. Me.”  Eddie spoke, emphasizing each word. “You ate me and you’re giving me shit?”

“But you’re still alive, hm?” Richie gestured up and down to Eddie, “nothing Hurt huh? You’re welcome.”

Those words actually got through to Eddie, “how am I...not dead…”

Richie sighed, hearing Eddie's tone, not angry, just...scared. “I’m not like them, Eddie. It's safe, because I’m safe…” Richie pinched the bridge of his nose “fuck that didn’t make sense, I..Its just something I can do.”

Eddie got a good look at Richie at this point, the man was no longer disheveled, he looked like he was good as new, no bags under his eyes, he didn’t look like he was going to pass out anymore...he looked healthy.

Eddie, felt tired, nauseous, and felt like he was about to pass out, they practically switched places. t

“What did you do to me…?” Eddie asked, which richie let out a small chuckle.

“Unlike Them”  he spoke of the two like it was bad luck to even think of them “I can’t digest living things, i uh… do have to eat living creatures though” he looked at Eddie, answering before the man could ask the question “I take energy, that's why you passed out, you came on the right day honestly, i usually wait a while before eating.”

“That's why there were survivors, that's how Mike knew--”

“Mike knows?” it sounded like a stupid question, but it had never crossed his mind. “How much does Mike know?” his voice was desperate, almost terrified.

“Not much… one girl that you...let go...talked to him about what she remembered…”

Richie shook his head “Fuck!” he yelled, slamming his hands on the wheels. “I left her on the pathway, watched her wake up, she shouldn’t have known about what happened.”

Eddie jumped at the slam “She didn’t remember anything, she thought escaped on her own, Mike has no idea what's going on, he...doesn’t even know he sent me here.”

“How the fuck doesnt he know?”

This is where Eddie began to feel nervous again-- what to say?

“A simple alias and a voice modifier did the trick.” Eddie rolled his eyes “and this isn’t my first time doing this.”

The shifter's heart sank.

Richie began piecing it all together, “You’re actually a hunter…?” he asked, “Tell me your joking Ed’s, you’re fucking with me…”

The thought of Eddie being an actual hunter was almost as absurd as knowing richie was a giant. Eddie was pretty fearless, but he didn’t act like the other hunters he’d met, if Eddie was actually a hunter, Richie was most likely a dead man.

“I uh… did tell you that I’m a Risk analyzer, I just didn’t tell you what kind of risks I worked with…” Eddie looked away, almost embarrassed. “I didn’t think I’d even run into you...or any of the losers on the job… Especially if the job is on one of you.”

Richie just stayed silent, Eddie. Eddie fucking Kaspbrack, kills monsters, just like him...all the time? He just silently turned on the car, driving back onto the main road. He felt this...intimidation now, and Richie did not like it at all.

“Richie?” Eddie asked, staring at the man, who just kept his eyes on the road. “Richie what's going on…?”

“I’m going to drop you off at your hotel, and guessing that there’s only one hotel that's not a total shithole, I’m guessing that's where you’re staying.” he spoke fast, like he didn’t want to talk to Eddie, which made the other man frown.

“You’re right...but...you seem...off.”

“Finding out my best friend is a killer isn’t something I really enjoy knowing.”

Holy shit…”Richie, are you...scared of me?” Eddie asked, utterly confused. He got no answer except for Richies face turning a slight red colour.

Eddie turned a bit red, but quickly changed the subject when Richie pulled into the driveway of the hotel, parking. “Are you going to answer me, dickwad” he only added the last part to get a reaction out of the man.

Richie snapped his head over to Eddie,  “we’ll finish this talk in the hotel room, I’m not staying in this car the entire night.”

“In the hotel room? What makes you think I’m letting you up there?”

“Because you can’t fucking walk.” Richie snapped once more, pointing to Eddie's legs, “Just try.”

Eddie just nodded, giving Richie a snarky look, then getting out of the vehicle.

“See!” Eddie spoke as Richie started, just waiting.  “What was that about---!”

Eddie couldn’t finish the sentence of glory as his legs wobbled. Making him fall to the concrete of the parking lot with a painful groan.

Richie got out of the car, a smug look on his face “what was what about?” He stood, hands in his hoodie pockets, holding back a bit of laughter.

Eddie just looked up, about to yell once more, but his own fear silenced him as he had to look up at Richie again, towering over him as he was on the pavement.

Richie frowned, seeing the fear in the hunters eyes, sighing

“Fuck--Here” Richie bent down, grabbing onto eddie, pulling the mans arm over his shoulder as to stablize him and help him move.

At first Eddie pushed back, not wanting Richie to even touch him at the moment, but something made him turn red as he got so close to him.

‘Do. not. Even. think. About. It.’

The walk up to the hotel room was silent, only minor grunts or breaths from either of the men.

Richie was practically going nuts with Eddie so close again--He would never admit it, but having eddie so close to his nose, he couldn’t help but smell him once again, and he smelled so...delicious, and the fact that he was able to taste him once meant that he knew that eddie was delicious.

‘Stop it….fucking stop.’

As they reached Eddie's door, the man tried to get the keys out of his pocket, only for Richie to just grab it out of his pocket himself, unlocking the door.

“T...thanks”

“Get in.”

Eddie sighed as they both walked in, the door shutting behind them. Eddie turned red as his luggage bag was sprawled on the bed, knives visible.

Richie groaned, seeing the blades, setting Eddie onto the bed, “Have enough fucking Knives man?”

“What? Scared?”

Richie said nothing, but looked away.

“The man who Eats people alive, is afraid of me?” Eddie couldn’t help but laugh, dry and sarcastic, “and I’m not a killer…”

Richie gave him a disbelieving look, eddies laugh faded

“Well I am a killer, but it's not like that...I researched creatures like you for a while, I made like four journals just observing you guys…”

“Wow, a nerd in literally everything. Even murder” richie rolled his eyes, but it was very noticeable when his shoulders relaxed slightly, though still seemed on guard as Eddie spoke, his eyes narrow and hesitant.

“After IT,” Eddie turned away. “I realized that some of these creatures, they just want to Hurt people… and...I just can’t let that happen. So I became a hunter… it was tough at first, but i’ve gotten better.” Eddie rubbed the back of his neck nervously “B-but I don’t kill people who are just trying to live their lives, only the ones who are killing people...which doesn’t make me that popular.”

Richie gave Eddie a look, not disproving, but just...intrigued, “Damn, a hunter with a moral backbone? Where have you been all my life”

Eddie paused, “I’ve been in your fucking life” He almost felt offended “suddenly I haven’t been with you because of my fucking career choice? Newsflash fuckface, I’m still fucking eddie kaspbrack”

Richie’s eyes widened “I didn't mean it--”

“You fucking EAT people. And I still see you as my...friend” Eddies voice lowered, looking away, “trust me, if I didn’t you’d be dead.”

Richie fell silent, somehow the word ‘friend’ still hurt him. Eddie could see the hurt on his face, looking away as well.

“All the other hunters i’ve known never gave me a chance to explain” Richie finally spoke after a few minutes, “They just see me as a monster.”

“i-I’m sorry.” Eddie responded “I didn’t mean--”

“Oh shut up.” Richie flashed a smile “You get a pass, I fucking ate you. I didn’t get a chance with any others.”

Eddie couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at the comment, something so absurd about the situation allowed him to. He was a hunter, who had been eaten, and is now talking to the person who had eaten him.

“So...the other losers?” Eddie fake coughed, trying to change the subject “Do any of them know”

“FUCK no.” Richie shook his head loudly, “If they knew that I’ve wanted--” Richie paused mid sentence, sputtering, clearly not wanting that to come out.

Eddie's eyes widened, “No no no, you don't get to say that shit and NOT finish the sentence, dickweed.”

“I-I..er--” Richie couldn’t form a coherent sentence, too busy turning redder than a tomato.

“Richie...Have you thought about...Eating us...like all of us? The losers?”

At first, Richie resisted, sputtering out a shaky ‘no!’, but Eddie just stared at the man, his expression not changing, it was a trick he would use when they were kids, Richie would always break.

“Fuck you Kaspbrak!” Richie finally broke, throwing his hands in the air “what do you want me to say? There's not one goddamn day that goes by since the reunion where i don’t think about it! There! Judge me all you fucking want! It's not gonna change the fact that I wanted to Eat you!”

Richie turned red again as eddie just stared “forget it”

“Did you ever try?”

It was richie's turn to look offended “you think im fucking stupid? If I tried anything on that trip, you’d think i was IT, I wasn’t about to be killed by my friends!”

Eddie put his hands up defensively “Okay okay! Don’t get your panties in a twist! It was a fucking question!”

Richie slumped back, defeated “I’ve thought about it sure---I never planned to though!” Richie almost sounded like he was trying to promise Eddie this, rather than convince him “I never planned on telling you guys, not that you’d believe me if I did.”

“Well you didn’t exactly tell me...so you kept your plan?”

Richie gave him a ‘are you kidding me’ expression

“I will eat you again”

“Don’t make me pull out the Knives, Tozier.”

Before Richie could even say another word, a loud ringing came from the luggage bag. It was his backup phone, Eddie reached for it, Richie first shook his head not to answer, but Eddie did anyway.

“Mr Marsh? Oh thank god you answered, it's been so long I thought the worst? What happened?” Richie tensed up, hearing Mike's voice on the other end of the phone, Eddie looked at the frightened predator and shook his head, mouthing the words ‘voice modifier’ which made Richie calm down slightly, still uncomfortable to hear Mike's voice.

Though on the other hand, Richie couldn’t help but laugh at the ‘Mr. Marsh’ mouthing to Eddie ‘are you fucking serious?’

Eddie shook his head, trying to wave the man off “Sorry Mr Hanlon, I understand your concern, everything is--”

“Ed’s?”

Eddie's sentence came to a full stop as Mike said his name, and so did his heart “w-what?”

“i-I” Mike stammered on the phone for a second “Eddie is that you?”

Richie, in an act of pure instinct, snatched the phone away from Eddie, who yelled out a quick “wait!” Before Richie hung up, turning the phone off.

There were a few moments of silence, you could practically hear the two’s hearts pumping loudly and full of anxiety.

“Shit.” they both said in unison.

---------

its good to be back...again!