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eddieeatsass · 5 years ago

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The Truth Is That I Think I've Had Enough

Summary: For the first time since Stan developed feelings for his best friend, Richie was finally single on Valentine’s Day, and Stan was fully planning on taking advantage of it. He invited Richie on a camping trip, just wanting one night where he could pretend, but Richie had different plans. Pairing: Stozier Rating: E Warnings: Eventual smut, explicit language

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When it came to the list of things Richie wanted to be doing on Valentine’s Day, Stan knew camping was not high up on the register. Richie was a city boy through and through, but he was also a loyal friend, so when Stan suggested they go camping for the weekend, Richie had gone along with it.

They were both single, after all, and it’s not like they didn’t hang out every other day of the year… so why should Valentine’s Day be any different?

Well, as far as Richie was concerned, it wasn’t. But Stan may have been indulging in his yearning just a little bit. For the first time since Stan developed feelings for his best friend, Richie was finally single on Valentine’s Day, and Stan was going to take advantage of it. So sue him if he wanted to pretend for one night that things were different.

But the truth still stood that Richie knew nothing of Stan’s pining, and nothing about camping, which made the trip a little tricky. They’d gone camping a few times when they’d been kids, tagging along with Stan’s parents who had done most of the handy work. All Richie and Stan had worried about was how toasted to make their marshmallows in pursuit of the perfect smore.

But now Richie was standing before him, gazing between the crumpled tent on the ground, and Stan’s awaiting expression, clear confusion boggling his mind.

“You gonna help or am I doing this all on my own?” Stan asked with light laughter.

“Uhhhhhhhhhh…” Richie drawled, unsure of how to proceed. “I mean yeah, of course, I just don’t quite... know... how.”

Richie picked up one of the objects sitting atop the tarp-like material. He jumped back when what started as a small bundle of sticks suddenly snapped out into a series of rods.

“Careful Rich! I didn’t plan on losing an eye today. We don’t have the medical equipment for that.” Stan warned, making sure to keep an ease to his tone so Richie knew he was teasing.

Richie nodded earnestly, taking more precaution as he began to snap the sticks into one long rod.

Stan knew what he was doing well enough to not need instructions, but Richie’s every move was a gamble between helping, or causing the whole tent to deflate. Stan finally took pity on him and assigned Richie the easy task of getting their blow up mattress out of the car, figuring it would be easier to finish the tent without Richie’s helping hands.

Their tent was generously sized, large enough for a twin person air mattress, and then a little extra room for their cooler and bags. Stan assured Richie that there were no bears in the area, so it was safe to sleep with their food alongside them, but Richie was still hesitant. He soothed himself by insisting that Stan sleep on the side closest to the cooler. If a bear attacked, it would be Stanley’s job to keep Richie safe. Stan’s heart fluttered a bit at the trust Richie instilled in him, no matter how hypothetical, or how unlikely he’d be to actually win a fight against a bear. Stan chose to keep both of those hypotheticals to himself and let Richie think him brave.

When Richie trekked back from the car, heavy box in one hand and air pump in the other, Stan was all done setting up the tent.

“God, why is this so heavy!?” Richie complained, plunking the box with the air mattress at their feet.

“It’s the price we pay for comfort.” Stan said, amused.

“At least we don’t have to blow this thing up with our mouths.” Richie conceded, giving the box a swift kick in retaliation for making his arms hurt.

“Psh, you don’t have enough air in your lungs.” Stan teased, taking the pump from Richie’s outstretched hand.

“But I have the blowjob lips to make up for it. One wrap of these puppies around that nozzle and it would blow itself up.” Richie made obnoxious kissing noises, too distracted by his obscenity to notice the way Stan’s cheeks heated up. His pulse pounded in his ears as thoughts of Richie’s lips wrapped around something else crept into his mind.

“Richie, I hate to be the one to break this to you, but blowjobs don’t involve any actual blowing.”

“And how would you know that, Stanley?”

“I’m a virgin, not an idiot.” Stan deadpanned.

Truth be told, Stan wasn’t as much of a virgin as his friends thought he was. He hadn’t done much, but because of his religion and strict parents, they’d all assumed Stanley hadn’t even kissed anyone yet. Low and behold it was at Jewish summer camp that he had experienced his first kiss, and his second, and so on. He’d even gotten to second base on the very last day of camp with good ol’ Patricia Blum.

But Stanley was a private man, and as respect for Patty, he hadn’t gone around spreading word of their affairs, even though he was secretly dying to tell Richie and see how far his jaw dropped when he found out Stan had gotten more action than he had. Trashmouth never shut up about sex, but they all knew he’d never had any. Stan wondered if Richie would ask Stan for tips, or ask him to demonstrate how he’d groped Patty down by the lake that day. He could show Richie a thing or two, teach him how to be soft and gentle with his fingers.

“Looks like the sun is already starting to go down.” Richie noted, peering off towards the cliff that overlooked the valley. They’d gotten prime real estate thanks to Stan’s knowledge of the woods. He knew exactly where to go where they wouldn’t be disturbed by other campers.

“We should start a fire.” Stan decided. He’d had enough training in the boy scouts to know it was always better to start your fire before the sun went down. It saved you a lot of annoyance, frozen fingertips, and a much harder time finding resources by flashlight.

“Rich, can you gather some twigs for me? About this big,” Stan picked one up that was by his foot. “and make sure they’re dry.” He handed the stick to Richie, who immediately brought it to his forehead in a fake salute.

“Aye aye captain!” Richie stiffened his limbs, swiveling around and doing his best army march impression as he wandered off in search of sticks.

While Richie was away, Stan got to work on setting up a makeshift pit for the fire to be contained in. He gathered as many rocks as he could find nearby and set them up in a neat little circle. Once Stan was satisfied with his work, he moved on to blowing up the air mattress inside their tent.

As he connected the pump to the mattress and began the repetitive motion that would surely leave his arms aching, he let his mind wander.

In hindsight, there was probably a much subtler way Stan could have found to spend Valentine’s Day with Richie. He’s sure if he’d offered up their usual Chinese food and ‘The Princess Bride’ (Richie’s all time favorite movie no matter what he says to the contrary), Richie would have pounced on the idea. So why had Stan felt the need to make it into a whole thing?

Well, he knew why, but he didn’t want to admit it. The knowledge was coated in shame and guilt, but it was still buzzing in the back of his head like a bug he couldn’t squish. Stan wanted this to be a date. Maybe he even liked pretending it was. He knew that wasn’t fair, but he didn’t have much control over it. If they’d done the same thing they always did, it wouldn’t have felt special.

Once the air mattress was completely inflated, and the pump tucked back into its box, Stan let himself fall forward on to the air filled PVC with an auditory oof.

Face down in the uncomfortable fabric, Stan felt like it was where he deserved to be. Lovesick, lying, dirty little-

“Yo, Stanny, I got your sticks!”

Stan steeled himself, tucking away his intrusive thoughts in favor of less intimate ones.

When Stan exited the tent, he wasn’t expecting to come face to face with a mountain of sticks. Standing before him, Richie was covered in dirt, twigs sticking out from his bush of hair, and arms full of branches towering high enough to shield half his face.

“Get in a fight with a tree?” Stan teased, hurrying forward so he could take half the stack from Richie’s shaking arms.

“Yeah, the tree won.” Richie answered with a matching tone, causing Stan’s heart to flutter traitorously.

“We didn’t need this many, you know.”

“I know, but I figured better safe than sorry, right? What if we suddenly need to build two fires? Or three? Or maybe even a fourth? What if we get stuck out here forever and need to provide heat to the village we create to survive. Our children deserve fires too, don’t they Stan? Don’t they?”

“We’re having children?” Stan questioned, beginning to place the sticks in the small fire pit he’d made.

“Yes.” Richie answered definitively as he plopped down beside Stan.

“I’m not sure that’s anatomically possible, but sure, I’ll play along.” Stan delighted.

“Okay, so we’re gonna have two kids. Twins.”

“Of course.” Stan nodded seriously, entertaining Richie’s wild imagination.

“One girl and one boy, or, you know, whatever gender they wanna be. We ain’t gonna be those kind of parents.”

That roused a laugh from Stan, knowing too well how strongly Richie’s opinions on parenting styles were. Richie had thought long and hard on what kind of parent he wanted to be in the future. You wouldn’t think Richie Tozier was a sap when it came to children, but tiny tots had him wrapped around their fingers. Richie had been dreaming about starting a family since they were kids, and Stan was no stranger to being ‘the wife’ in the equation. Richie had organized many imaginary weddings for them when they were young. They’d been married seven times in total, and had played house more times than Stan could count. It was almost enough to fuel Stan’s late night thoughts that Richie might actually reciprocate his feelings.

“We’ll name them Pizza and Macaroni.” Richie declared.

“Why in hell’s name would we do that?” Stan scoffed, grabbing the box of matches from his pocket. He ignited one and flicked it into the center of the pit.

“We’re creating a new society, Stan. There are no rules, no norms. Pizza and Macaroni could be the new standard for names. Imagine.”

“I don’t want to.”

Richie wrapped an arm around Stan’s shoulder and pulled him in close, leaving little room between their faces for Stan to breathe.

“Imagine.” Richie repeated with extra vigor.

“Fine.” Stan closed his eyes and paused for a moment. “I’m imagining it.”

“And? It’s beautiful, right?” Richie asked excitedly.

“Oh, oh god, Macaroni just stabbed Pizza with a fork. He’s bleeding everywhere! There’s no paramedics around, the town consists of just us and we never got any medical training. I’m holding our son, Richie. I’m holding him in my arms, oh god, his blood tastes like tomato sauce Richie-”

“Shut the fuck up!” Richie laughed, wrestling Stan to the ground and pinning him in place. “Take it back! Do not eat our son, Staniel!”

“But he tastes so good.” Stan giggled, his eyes still squeezed shut.

“Spit him out! Spit him out or we’re getting a divorce!”

Stan finally peeked one eye open, seeing Richie’s bright smile hovering over him and dark curls falling into his eyes.

“You’ll have to divorce me seven times then.” Stan challenged with a quirk to his eyebrow.

“Huh?” Richie’s face contorted as he tried to pinpoint Stan’s line of thought.

A piece of Stan’s heart detached from itself and fell into the pit of his stomach. Of course he didn’t remember, why would he?

“Nothing, never mind.” Stan laughed shallowly, shrugging Richie off and rolling back on to his feet. He stopped to check that the fire was successfully catching and was moderately pleased with the small flames he saw licking at the sticks. It should continue to grow if they left it.

“Are you hungry?” Stan asked over his shoulder, using it as an excuse to detach himself from what had just happened.

“Uh, yeah, I could go for some food.” Richie answered, mild confusion still evident in his voice.

“Cool, I brought hot dogs and beans-”

“I think I want smores.” Richie’s voice suddenly rang from beside Stan, causing him to jolt. Richie just laughed at the reaction, cutting in front of Stan and jogging towards their tent.

“You can’t have smores for dinner, Richie.” Stan chastised.

“You’re not my mom!”

Stan once again found himself fighting back a smile as Richie’s figure disappeared into the tent.

An hour later Stan found himself sitting on a log they’d rolled over from a nearby fallen tree. He was holding a stick over the fire, a marshmallow precariously hanging from the end of it. The sky had darkened to a navy blue, pin pricked with stars and constellations they had yet to discover.

Stan moved the marshmallow a little farther above the flames, keeping it from getting charred like Richie’s own marshmallow, which was engulfed in flames.

“I can hear you judging me.” Richie quipped, keeping his eyes on his marshmallow as he brought the flaming gelatin towards himself and began erratically blowing it out.

Stan kept his laughter locked behind his lips.

“It’s just… so unnecessary.” Stan responded.

“It’s not unnecessary! It’s fully necessary! This is the only way to get the perfect marshmallow!” Richie defended.

Stan looked over at the gooey black orb Richie was shoving between two graham crackers. He made a fake gagging noise while sticking out his tongue, finally letting his laughter free when Richie punched him playfully in the arm.

“The perfect marshmallow will never include scorch marks.”

“Boo, you’re no fun.” Richie took a stubborn bite of his smore, reaching out with his free hand and tapping Stan’s stick.

Stan watched in horror as his flawlessly roasted marshmallow disappeared into the flames of the fire, immediately disintegrating into nothing but sticky residue.

“Saboteur!” Stan yelled, pointing an accusing finger at Richie’s chocolate covered face.

“Moi!?” Richie gasped, throwing a hand to his chest dramatically. “I would never! But, I am not a heartless man. Please, as condolences for your loss, will you accept the other half of my smore, monsieur?”

Stan wanted to cringe at the terrible french accent Richie adorned, but his cuteness won over and Stan was just left smiling.

“I suppose I’ll eat your ash-cookie.”

“I’d rather you eat my ass, cookie.” Richie shot back without pause, winking slyly as he scooted closer to Stan on the log.

The air around Stan began thickening, heating him up from the inside out and causing his brain to melt just slightly. He watched in slow motion as Richie’s fingers brought the half eaten smore up to Stan’s lips. It should have been gross; Richie’s face and fingers had remnants of chocolate on them, the smore was falling apart and showcasing the awfully burnt marshmallow, and Stan had a strict ‘no-sharing-food’ policy because he didn’t like sharing germs. But regardless of all of those reasons to pull away, Stan found himself leaning in closer.

As soon as Richie’s fingers brushed Stan’s lips it was like something inside him took over. Stan raised his hands to hold Richie’s wrist, and then cocking his head so he had a better angle, he raked his tongue over Richie’s fingers as he gathered all the chocolate he could. It was a lewd gesture, one Stan would never imagine doing any other time, but something about the flickering campfire and the stillness of the wind made him feel like he wasn’t in this world anymore. He was in a world where he could make Richie want him.

“Uhm…” Richie’s shaky breath brought Stan hurtling back to reality fast enough to leave him dizzy.

Stan quickly let go of Richie’s arm, pulling away both physically and emotionally as he chewed his smore with vigor.

“You’re right.” Stan said through a mouthful of goo. “It’s not as bad as I thought it’d be.”

Richie just stared in awe as Stan tried to swallow past the sticky chocolate and marshmallow that stuck to his teeth in defiance.

Once the residue of his humiliation was all swallowed down, Stan stood abruptly, stretching his arms high above his head and producing a fake yawn.

“Jeez, I’m tired already.” Stan lied, hoping Richie would go along with it.

“Makes sense, we did have a long day of travelling.” Richie answered towards Stan’s turned back.

Stan let out a sigh of relief he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding. As he let his arms drop, so did his shoulders, and some of his tension along with it.

“I’m gonna go change into my pajamas.” Stan stated, leaving hurriedly before Richie could respond.

Once in the tent, and hidden behind its nylon walls, Stan was finally able to process what he’d just done. As he slowly changed into his pajamas he went over the course of events in his head, wincing as he recalled the way he’d indulged so passionately in such a platonic touch. It had felt so good in the moment, convincing himself he saw lust in Richie’s eyes, but the remorse he felt now settled over him like a blanket. He didn’t want to ruin his friendship with Richie, he couldn’t, he had to keep himself together.

Stan was startled out of his stupor as the zipper of the tent began to open. Stan quickly pulled his sleep shirt the rest of the way down, hiding away his body and his thoughts alike.

“You decent?” Richie asked teasingly before opening the zipper any wider.

“Yeah.” Stan responded, warmth already licking back up his chest.

Richie opened the tent the rest of the way and as he climbed in Stan could see that he’d put out the fire. He felt a weird swell of pride that Richie had remembered at least some of the camping basics Stan had taught him.

He’d averted his eyes as Richie changed, had curled in on himself as Richie leaned over him to reach their stuff, but now he was laying next to Richie’s warm body with no way to escape. Their proximity seared into him like a burn that he was far too aware of.

“You know, this was way more fun than my usual Valentine’s Day.” Richie offered into the silence, gazing up through the skylight that allowed them to see the stars.

Stan’s heart threatened to break out of his chest.

“The past few years I’ve usually spent it with some equally lonely one-night-stand. The sex was never good enough to make the next day worth it.” Richie admitted.

“Why not?” Stan piped in.

Richie thought for a moment, allowing the silence to lull them a little bit deeper into the comfort of night.

“I’d wake up feeling disappointed because the person next to me was never who I wanted it to be.”

Stan’s ears perked up. He angled his body towards Richie, cushioning his head in the crook of his bent elbow as he contemplated his friend’s profile. This was the first time Richie had ever alluded to having a crush.

“Who did you want it to be?” Stan asked shakily.

Richie turned his head towards Stan, locking eyes with him and seeming to search for something.

“What about you?” Richie asked, flipping the question around without answering it.

“What do you mean?”

“Who would you choose to wake up to every day?”

The question leered above their heads, threatening to fall and crush the thin veil of tension that had formed between them.

Stan gulped audibly, wanting nothing more than to shy away from Richie’s gaze, but he held strong.

“It doesn’t matter, they don’t want the same thing I do.”

“How can you be sure?” Richie murmured challengingly.

Stan’s mouth gaped open and closed like a fish out of water as he tried to wade through the chaos in his head.

“All I know is I’m glad I’m waking up next to you tomorrow.” Richie said, turning his head back to the sky.

Blood pounded in Stan’s ears as he tried to decode Richie’s words. Was he saying what he thought he was saying? Or was Stan just reading into things, spurred on by his unrequited feelings and juvenile hope?

“I’m glad too.” Stan breathed out.

Richie didn’t miss a beat before answering.

“Glad enough to kiss me?”

Stan’s entire body froze, something inside him shattering as the butterflies finally escaped his stomach, filling up their tent until Stan couldn’t see anything but Richie.

Slowly, as if scared one wrong move would make Richie run, Stan propped himself up on his elbow, peering down at Richie’s expectant face. He kept his pace steady as he slowly dipped down and braved a single kiss.

It wasn’t much of anything, just a chaste peck, a quick dip into the pool to test the water. But that one kiss was enough to erase all of Stan’s trepidation, leaving him as bare and open and vulnerable as Richie was. And it felt liberating.

The next few minutes passed by in a flurry. Richie surged up to reclaim Stan’s lips, no longer just a peck but now a full-blown kiss that left Stan’s legs shaking. Richie flipped them over so he was hovering above Stan, using his leverage to kiss up Stan’s neck, the line of his jaw, and back to his lips. It was quick to turn feral, their teeth clanking against each other as desperation took over. Stan had never felt so terrified and turned on at the same time, his hand trembling as it fisted into Richie’s lush curls and pulled him closer.

Stan’s breathing was labored, his swallows dry as he tried to steady his quickening pulse. Richie was everywhere, blanketing all of Stan’s senses. The smell of Richie’s laundry detergent swirled around them, melding with the lingerings of their campfire. His tongue tasted sweet like the chocolate they’d eaten, and the sound of Stan’s own meek noises were swallowed up by Richie’s own deep growls. If all that wasn’t already over-stimulation enough, Richie’s was consistently rutting himself against Stan, causing his arousal to become less and less subtle with every passing moment.

Stan broke away with a heaving breath, peering up at Richie through hooded eyes.

“I’m a virgin.” Stan blurted.

Richie stared deeply into Stan’s eyes, churning his gut with intensity until what felt like several minutes had passed. When Richie finally spoke again, the sound nearly startled Stan.

“Me too.”

Stan smiled, thankful that Richie felt safe enough to be honest with him. He reached a hand up and gently cupped Richie’s cheek, who immediately leaned into the touch.

“We don’t have to, uh, do anything.” Richie stuttered out, his eyes gently closing as he relaxed into Stan’s hold.

“I know. But if you wanted to…” Stan trailed off, leaving the offer open-ended.

Richie’s eyes popped back open, searching Stan’s face for further explanation.

“I brought stuff… uh… just in case. I guess I was kinda hopeful about tonight.” Stan admitted, averting eye contact. “Can I make a confession?” Richie whispered, his voice going a bit rough at the end. “I was kind of hopeful myself…”

“What do you mean, exactly?” Stan asked.

“I sort of fantasized about the way tonight might play out. I’ve had some… personal experience with receiving, so I made sure to clean myself in case my wildest dreams suddenly came to fruition. But I can also top! Uhm, if that’s your preference.” Richie rushed in addition.

“Personal experience? I thought you were a virgin?” Stan’s tone held a lick of jealousy, which he tried to cover up by clearing his throat.

In response Richie held up his hand and wiggled his fingers, hoping that Stan got the message.

“Fuck that’s so hot.” Stan groaned, letting his head fall back against his pillow. He felt open mouth kisses being peppered down the column of his neck and keened embarrassingly loud.

“I’ll be honest, the thought of splitting you open on my cock does sound appealing.” Stan murmured.

Richie’s head shot up, his eyes wide like a deer in headlights. Stan thought he’d said something wrong until Richie was suddenly shucking his clothes as quickly as possible, dizzying Stan with his pace.

“Slow down! Rich- Richie- there’s not that much room in the tent!” Stan laughed, trying (and failing) to get Richie to sit still. When he finally stopped moving, Richie was stripped down to his underwear.

It’s not like Stan and Richie had never seen each other in their underwear before, but apparently context did a lot, and in this context Stan’s whole body was thrumming at the sight.

“Fuck, we’re really doing this, huh?” Stan whispered, trailing his gaze down Richie’s lean torso.

“Only if you want to.” Richie assured.

Stan wanted to. He wanted it more than anything. But words were failing him as he took in this brand new Richie, bathed in moonlight from the tent’s open skylight, eyes wide and vulnerable with lust.

So instead of talking, Stan took action. He locked eyes with Richie as he began stripping off his own clothes, doing so much slower than Richie had. It was purposeful, a confirmation that he was all in. Their gaze didn’t break until Stan was bared to the same degree as Richie, his navy blue boxer briefs a stark contrast to Richie’s hot pink flamingo print.

Stan was the one to surge forward when their tension peaked, knocking Richie on to his back and giving himself room to straddle him. Richie’s hands were slow burning coils against Stan’s skin, lighting him up everywhere they touched. Stan rolled his hips down experimentally, feeling Richie’s responding twitch between the thin fabric that separated them.

“Off.” Stan demanded, pawing at the waist of Richie’s offending boxers.

Richie complied, but did one better. In the same fail swoop, Richie hooked his thumbs under both of their waistbands and pulled them down in conjunction.

The action resulted in a collective moan as their oversensitive cocks finally broke free and rubbed against each other.

It didn’t take long for Richie's hands to slither back up their thighs and in between them, grabbing them both in one hand. Stan hissed at the contact, clenching his teeth in an attempt to hold back the wave that already threatened to crash over.

“Fuck, Stanny. Who knew you were packing?”

The comment was so un-sexy it made Stan puddle into laughter, his head falling to Richie’s shoulder as the chest underneath him rumbled in tandem.

“Sorry, I don’t think I’m very good at this whole dirty talk thing.” Richie admitted between giggles.

“I don’t want dirty talk.” Stan murmured, placing a gentle kiss on Richie's temple. “I just want you.”

Richie nodded, evidently calmed by the notion that he didn’t have to perform, he just needed to be.

Richie experimented with another flick of his wrist, causing Stan to jerk away instinctively.

“Rich- if you keep doing that I’m not gonna last.” Stan admitted.

“Damn, I’m that good?”

“Shut up and teach me how to finger you.” Stan smirked as he wiped the smile right off Richie’s face.

“It might be better if I just… show you.” Richie shifted out from under Stan and got to his knees.

“You said you have lube…?” “Oh!” Stan exclaimed, bouncing up and reaching for his backpack. He immediately procured the lube and condoms he’d brought.

“Thanks babe.” Richie said casually, missing the way Stan spluttered at the pet name.

Richie reached for the lube as Stan tried to recover, but he didn’t have much time to do so as he watched Richie squeeze a little bit of lube on to his fingers and immediately reached behind himself.

Stan’s heart went mad, bouncing against its confines like it was a prison. He couldn’t help but stare at the way Richie’s face contorted into an all new type of expression, one Stan had never seen on anyone’s face before.

His eyes trailed down Richie’s torso, stopping to admire the way his thin body strained around muscle, how his pale chest flushed pink with arousal, and the delicious way his cock stood to attention just begging for praise. But it was the space between Richie’s spread thighs that mesmerized him, where he could see his hand moving behind him.

Without thought, Stan’s hand drifted to his own cock, acting on instinct as his mind went hazy. He held it gently, not stroking it so much as just giving it the pressure it craved. He watched as Richie’s index finger disappeared inside himself, making Richie moan lewdly.

Richie didn’t take long to get all three fingers inside himself, getting more and more into it as the minutes ticked on. Richie now had his eyes shut and his head thrown back as he fucked himself down on his digits. Stan almost didn’t want to stop him, wanted to see how long Richie could ride himself until he made himself cum, but even more than that, he wanted to feel Richie’s tight heat constricting around his shaft. “So are you gonna let me fuck you or what?” Stan’s voice seemed to jostle Richie out of whatever place his mind had gone to, causing him to look around the tent for the culprit of his ceased pleasure.

“Stanny, fuck, please-” Richie’s voice was completely hoarse as he crawled towards Stan eagerly. “Come here, let me take care of you.” Stan ushered Richie forward, pulling him flush against his chest and kissing him as passionately as possible.

“I want you to ride me.” Stan whispered against Richie’s lips.

“Yes, please.”

Stan laid back down, pulling Richie on top of him for the second time that night.

They kissed for a while longer, grinding into each other as Stan’s cock teased at Richie’s entrance. Keeping their lips locked, Stan reached for his condom, tearing it open expertly and bringing the latex down between their bodies.

Richie sat up on his knees, giving Stan room to roll the condom down over his dick, but as soon as it was situated snug against Stan’s pelvis, Richie wasted no time coating it in lube. He threw the bottle behind him, moving impatiently as he fumbled to line Stan’s cock up with his hole.

“Rich...” Stan reached for Richie’s free hand and entwined their fingers. The gesture gave Richie pause and he finally let out a sigh.

“Sorry, I’m just… I’ve wanted this for a long time.” Richie said quietly.

Stan’s heart swelled. He squeezed Richie’s hand in reassurance.

“Me too, but that doesn’t mean we have to rush. I’m not going to suddenly change my mind, we can take our time with this.”

Richie bowed his head, a shy smile flashing pearly teeth. Stan took the opportunity to slink his own hand around his cock, joining Richie’s. Together, they held it still as Richie slowly sank down until the head popped past his rim.

They both gasped as the new sensation washed over them.

Richie started cursing under his breath, sinking down a little bit lower every few seconds until he was fully seated in Stan’s lap.

Stan held an iron grip on Richie’s hips as he tried to ground himself, the feeling of Richie clenching around him almost too much to bare.

“Why haven’t we been doing this all these years.” Richie whined, pulling himself up until the head of Stan’s cock threatened to slip out, before pushing back down at a satisfyingly slow pace.

“Because we’re idiots.” Stan answered, raising his hips to meet Richie as he came down.

“H-huge idiots.” Richie agreed, nodding along with his thrusts.

“We have a lot of - hnnnng fuck - a lot of time to make up for.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Rich, I would literally stay in this moment for a lifetime if I could- ahhhh.”

“Your dick might shrivel up.” Richie noted, speeding up his rhythm upon hearing Stan’s moans.

“Worth it.” Stan swallowed thickly, getting lost in the sight of Richie’s cock bouncing against his stomach.

“I wanna suck you off.” Stan blurted, no longer able to filter his thoughts through the haze in his brain.

“Fuck, Stanny- you’re so perfect- nnnnggggg ohmygod-” Richie’s entire body tensed up as he reached his peak. Stan watched as his cock twitched, releasing strings of cum that shot impressively far. The feeling of Richie clenching around him paired with the sight of him completely unraveling tipped Stan over the edge along with him.

His orgasm felt like it lasted a lifetime, draining every ounce of energy out of him and leaving Stan completely boneless by the end. He vaguely processed Richie slipping off him, heard the sound of the tent unzip, and then felt the warmth of Richie’s body saddling back up beside him.

“You okay there?” Richie’s voice drifted through the tent, but it still felt light years away. Stan nodded meekly, his bearings just starting to come back.

Stan peered down at his spent cock, giving it a small nod in appreciation for its performance.

“Where’s the condom?” Stan asked drearily.

“I put it outside the tent.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Would you rather we sleep with it next to us?” Richie asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Mmmmm- shut up and spoon me.” Stan grumbled, turning to his side and pulling Richie’s arm over him.

“As you wish.” Richie whispered.

#stozier #stozier fanfic #stozier fic #stozier fanfiction #stozier lemon #stozier smut #richie tozier #stanley uris #stan uris #it 2017 #it smut #it lemon #it fanfic #it fanfiction #my posts #my writing

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thestarsaroundyourscars · 5 years ago

Note

78! 78! 78! For the fluff prompts part two?? I think you could make a reddie (or stoizer?!? your pick) fic outta that and it would be WONDERFUL

Hi! I already wrote a reddie prompt for this one, which you can read here, so I went with stozier this time! I hope you enjoy.

78. I need you. Please stay

Read on AO3

Richie took one last drag of his cigarette before he was dragging Bev back to the party. They were walking up the front steps when the door to the house swung open and Stan stepped out.

Richie's face immediately lit up. "Stanny! I was just coming to find you, did you miss me too much?"

The moment the words left his mouth, Richie noticed something was wrong. Stan had taken off his Michael Myers mask, his last minute costume for the Halloween party they were in and now, Richie could see he was upset⎯ his face was pinched, his jaw clenched and his lips were pressed into a tight line.

Before Richie could ask what was wrong, Stan was walking past him and Bev without even glancing at them.

Richie watched him walk away, feeling confused⎯ until Bev hit him in the back of his head and told him to, "Go after him, you idiot!"

Richie did, catching up with Stan just as he stepped on the sidewalk. "Hey, where are you going?"

"I'm going home, Richie." Stan said, his voice clipped.

Yeah, definitely upset.

"Stan the man, too cool for high school parties?" Richie joked, trying to lighten the mood but Stan only glared at him. His tone switched to concerned, "Hey, are you okay?"

Stan sighed, shoulders slumping. "Just go back to the party, Richie. I know you want to."

Richie shook his head. "Nope, you're wrong. Fuck that party, I'd rather walk my boyfriend home." He said, watching Stan's mouth twitch into the tiniest smile, like it did whenever Richie referred to him as his boyfriend.

"You don't have to that."

"Are you kidding?" Richie said, reaching tentatively for Stan's hand. He relaxed when, instead of shoving him away, Stan let him lace their fingers together. "It's Halloween, I can't leave you out here alone with all the crazy psychos!"

Stan snorted, hitting Richie on the chest with his plastic mask. "You're the only psycho out here."

"Excuse me, but out of the two of us, who is dressed as an actual psycho?" Richie quirked an eyebrow, flashing Stan a teasing smile.

"Fine, but if we're being honest, Beetlejuice is a little bit of a psycho himself."

Richie let out a laugh.

Unlike Stan, he did plan his costume ahead. It was Bev's idea⎯ she knew how much Richie loved the movie, the costume wasn't that complicated and hey, you already have that big forehead, she told him with a wink. She’d helped Richie find the clothes and helped with his hair, painting it green and styling it so it stood in all different directions and applied baby powder to his face to make it look paler than usual. It would probably be a bitch to wash off, but he liked how it turned out.

"A bio-exorcist, babe. Have some respect." He winked and Stan rolled his eyes fondly.

They walked hand in hand, taking advantage of the nearly empty street and the darkness around them. Stan seemed more relaxed, but there was still a slight crease between his eyebrows. Richie wanted to know the reason behind that frown. Stan had been fine when he and Bev left the house for their smoke break. Sure, he was slightly annoyed that he was being forced to hang at that stupid party but the seven of them were actually having a good time together⎯ Stan hadn't even complained when Richie planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek before going outside.

Now Richie was afraid to ask what happened. He knew if he said the wrong thing, his boyfriend would probably shut him out and that was the last thing he wanted, so he bit down on his tongue to keep himself from blurting out the question.

"You're too quiet." Stan said after they had been walking for a while.

"Yeah well, I just thought you’d appreciate some silence."

Stan let out a snort. "I know you're just trying not to ask me what happened."

Richie scrunched up his face, Stan knew him too well. "I was trying not to be pushy." He said. "It's okay if you don't want to tell me."

"It's not that I don’t want to tell you, it’s just stupid." Stan started, staring straight ahead, face pulled into a frown. "When you left, a few girls dragged me and Bill to the basement to play some stupid game. When we made it down there, some asshole wearing a⎯ a clown mask jumped at us." Stan’s entire body was tense, fingers twitching in Richie’s grip. He ran his thumb over his knuckles, soothingly. "It wasn't even⎯ it didn't even look like, you know, like that but I just panicked. I felt like I was back in the sewers, alone and I⎯" His voice cracked. "I just needed to get out."

"Shit, Stan I'm sorry." Richie said softly when he finished.

"Don't be ridiculous. It's not your fault, Richie."

He shrugged. "Maybe if I hadn't left, no one would have dragged you to the basement."

"You're not my babysitter, you're allowed to leave my side."

"I was the one who dragged you to that party in the first place." Richie said, close to pouting.

"Yeah and I was having fun, with you and the losers. Shit just happens, I guess. Stupid shit."

Richie squeezed his hand. "It's not stupid. It’s the trauma, babe."

Stan huffed, shaking his head. "It's been five years."

"So?"

"So it shouldn't affect me like that anymore. And why is it just me? Bill was also in that basement and he didn't need to run out of there!" Stan said, voice rising in anger. They had stopped walking, Stan had let go of Richie's hand and now he was picking at the faint scars on his face, probably not even realizing he was doing it. "I just feel so stupid, Richie! That I'm not over it and all of you are."

Richie stared at him, bewildered. "You think I'm over it?" He asked in disbelief, Stan gave a noncommittal shrug. "Stan, dude, babe. I'm not fucking over it. I still have fucking nightmares about that summer. I still can't look at the Paul Bunyan statue without wanting to throw up. The other day, I saw a balloon and I thought I was going to cry." He shook his head, reaching for Stan's hand and forcing him to meet his eyes. "None of us are over it. We fought a fucking demon clown!"

He was probably talking louder than he should considering they were in the middle of the street, but he hoped that if someone heard them they would write it off as Halloween nonsense.

"I don't think we'll ever be completely over it,” Richie continued. “And that's fine. I think, I don't know. But you're not stupid Stan, just like I'm not stupid." He paused, considering it. "For that reason, at least."

Stan stared at him, Richie could tell the anger was slowly ebbing away, his expression softening. "I don't know Richie, crying over a balloon? That's a little stupid." He teased, lips twitching into a half smile.

Richie scoffed, glaring at him with no real heat, especially when Stan leaned in, closing the distance between them to give Richie a short kiss. “Thank you, Rich."

He used his thumb to clean a bit of white powder that was left on Stan’s mouth after he pulled away. “All in a day’s work, Stan my man, all in a day’s work." Richie said with a wink, grabbing his hand again. "Come on, let's get you home."

When they arrived at the Uris residence all the lights were off, Stan's parents already asleep.

Richie walked him to the door, giving his boyfriend a kiss goodbye. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Actually,” Stan started, grabbing his wrist. “I thought you could stay. Those nightmares you mentioned, I have them too, but never when you sleep here.”

“Aww Stan, are you saying that you need me to sleep well?” Richie flashed him a lopsided smile that quickly shifted into a slight pout when Stan pinched his arm and he feigned actual pain.

“It’s not that I need you Richard,” Stan rolled his eyes, a slight blush on his cheeks. “I just want you to stay, so please stay.”

Richie’s grin softened. “Yeah, of course babe.”

Stan smiled, reaching up to brush back some of Richie’s hair. He scrunched up his face when he couldn't weave his fingers through it due to all the gel and paint that Bev used. “I don’t like your hair when it’s like this.”

"You know, we could take a shower before bed," Richie said, wiggling his eyebrows. "You can wash all this junk from my hair.”

Stan sighed, shaking his head but when he grabbed Richie’s hand to drag him inside, he could see a playful smile on his boyfriend’s face.

Tag list: @daddyphantomtbh @yes-dillman-yes @richietoaster @beepbeeprichiellc @its-stranger-than-you-think @lemonaayyee @losers-gotta-stick-together @tinyarmedtrex @richiefuckfacetozier @sam-i-am2468 @richardtoz @s-s-georgie @reddie-for-anything @eddiefuckinkaspbrak @constantreaderfool @stanleuyris @jesuschristsupruvestar @mirandonsky @reddie4diaster @alargedepresso @purplepoisonedgem @pan-ini @reddie-to-cry @reddieforlove @trashmouthnick @multi-fandom-wby @wheezyeds @nancynwheeler @reddieslashgeneralhorror @madi-personal @reddie-tozibrak @lover-mouth @atownofeggs @that-weird-girls-blog @appojoos @castielwinovak @a-gay-treee @twoidiotsinl0ve @fcngirltrxsh @spirited-marvel (if you want to be added, let me know!)

#stozier #halloween party gone wrong #richie comforting stan #just some stozier fluff #monse writes #thortn-harvester-ven

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sunflowerrichie · 6 years ago

Text

stay

stozier one-shot

quote: “stay.”

inspiration: my friend james: “HEY RICH ITS JAMES. IM REQUESTING #67 FOR STOZIER PLS, I LOVE U SO MUCH & CAN I BE TAGGED HEHE”

pairing(s): stanley uris + richie tozier.

warning(s): none.

author: richie (aka sunflowerrichie).

note: i don’t think i’ve ever wrote a stozier fic but i love them so much ugh. leave a number in my ask inbox with a ship and i’ll write a short one-shot!

word count: 594

ao3: x

{ lower caps are intended }

tagging: @sleepygaybrough

richie tozier had been with stanley uris for five months now. it had been a secret to the rest of the losers, though they all noticed the way they both looked at each other now. richie would make a joke, stan would toss him a ‘beep beep’ and richie would roll his eyes, biting back a fond smile. stanley’s eyes were always twinkling when he looked at richie, and that’s what never failed to get them knowing looks and wiggling eyebrows from the rest of the losers.

on one occasion, mike hanlon had walked into the same restaurant their date was taking place at. he opened the door, saw them holding hands and richie looking at every detail of his face, as if he wanted to paint a picture of him, and walked out with a kick in his step. he kept that one to himself, for he didn’t want the rest of the losers to tease them about it.

beverly would say something like “who knew the trashmouth was actually soft!” and then eddie would make a remark like “and stanley? he actually has a heart?” and all of them would laugh, except mike, stan, and richie. they all loved them and would accept them, they know, but richie and stan had a reputation of not really liking each other, for most of the times, stan would roll his eyes and say the same “beep beep” he always did at richie, and richie would let out a howling laugh, slapping stan on the back with a “lookie here, folks! stan the man gets off a good one!” (it has happened more than once.)

now, it was a sunday, the last day of a full weekend with each other. richie was lying in his bed, stan’s limbs tangled with his and their hearts beating in sync as richie felt stan’s breath trickle down his pale neck. there was soft music playing in the background, one of the mixtapes richie had made for this weekend. the evening sunlight was pooling through the blinds, casting little sun-rays across both of their faces. stanley stared with astonishment for a few minutes at richie’s bare chest and the hairs trailing down to under his pants, past the sheet tossed over them.

“i really should go,” stanley said then, the first noise either of them have made in minutes. richie thought he had fallen asleep until now, for he was still, and his breathing was long and drawn out. “my dad wants me to help him with dinner soon.”

richie frowned, turning to face his boyfriend. he pushed a loose curl behind his ear, placing a soft kiss on his forehead. “stay.”

stan sighed, knowing he was melting under richie’s gaze and his soft touches. “richie, you know i have to-“

the black-haired boy cut him off, not wanting the latter to leave just yet. “just for a little bit longer,” he said softly, letting his hand trail down the length of stan’s arm and his fingers curl around the other’s. “please?”

stan crumbled, relaxing into the bed and lacing his fingers with richie’s. “fine, but if i get in trouble because of you, i’ll blame you and only you for the rest of my life,” he stated, only half-joking.

richie chuckled, ducking his head down into the other boy’s chest and breathing him in. spearmint and lavender dryer sheets, he thought, stan’s signature smell. oh, how he loved it. “i can take that,” he smiled, letting his eyes flutter closed as stan placed a kiss to his hair.

#the losers club #it 2017 #richie tozier #stanley uris #stozier #beverly marsh #eddie kaspbrak #mike hanlon #(mentioned)#finn wolfhard #wyatt oleff #it stephen king #richie's work

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notagoodplace4gods · 7 years ago

Text

[FIC] Beep beep

Summary:

"I'm not afraid of you!" Richie tries, - god, he really does, - to fight back this time, but It just laughs at him.

"How many times do we have to beep you before you shut up for good, hmm, Richie?" Its hands are all over Richie's face, all over his mouth, and Richie can't talk, he can't breathe. "I think I'll do your friends a favor and just kill you." It laughs again, mouth opening and shining and Richie...

Richie wakes up.

A/N: ah, hurting my favorite character is my jam.

This fic is OT7, gen, but I’m tagging it as both reddie and stozier because I ship both ships, and idk they all just love each other so much

It’s on AO3, please comment!

Pennywise is dead, they've killed it, but Richie still wakes up screaming and crying.

It's not a big deal, he tries telling himself. After everything that had happened, they all have nightmares, it's normal, and they'll be gone soon. They have to be, god, Richie doesn't think he can take anymore of this. It's the third night in a row he dreams about Pennywise, and it's always the same thing. He's back into that creepy-ass doll room in Neibolt staring at a life sized Richie doll, eyes vacant, glasses broken, and mouth sewed shut. He tries running, he tries screaming, but no sounds escape him, he can't even open his mouth, it has been sewed shut and it hurts, god it hurts so much.

"Beep beep Richie" Pennywise laughs and laughs, his teeth getting sharper and bigger and... That's when he wakes up. To be safe, he doesn't try to go back to sleep, he just hugs his own legs, rocking back and forth, waiting for the sun to come out.

Getting ready for school feels stupid, it feels fake. It's like he's playing the role of a normal student who cares about normal things like getting good grades and making fun of his teachers. Everything feels empty now, but he does it anyway because he has to, because there's nothing left for him to do. It all feels like an outer body experience, he feels detached, like he's seeing things through somebody else's eyes and living somebody else's life and it's fake, fake, fake.

It gets better when he finds the losers, because they're real and, more importantly, they are Richie's. I did that. Richie breathes out, I made friends with them, I was the one who followed Stan around since our first day at school, I was the one who helped Bill, Eddie and Ben in the barrens, I took Bev out on a movie date and she taught me how to play with yo-yos, I nicknamed Mike "homeschool," I'm one of them and they're mine. You can't have them.

He doesn't know if he's saying it to Pennywise's ghost, trying to convince It, or if he's trying to convince himself.

"What's up losers?" He waves at his friends, receiving tons of greetings, smiles and a pat on the back from Mike, who's now attending high school with them. This. This is mine. He repeats it to himself, and he doesn't know why, but he's getting desperate, his heart beating fast on his chest and he's breathing hard, but he thinks it again and again, because it's important, they're important, and they make him important.

When he manages to calm down enough, he turns to his friends. They're all laughing from something Stan said, and Richie's sad that he missed it. Stan is really funny, and he doesn't even try to be. Richie, on the other hand, tries really hard.

"Stan the Man gets off a good one!" He tries, and it's loud, it's probably too loud, but he likes it loud, he needs to be loud so it can drown Pennywise's incessant "beep beep Richie beep beep Richie beep beep beep

"Beep beep Richie" Stan rolls his eyes, and the rest of the losers laughs so hard they don't see Richie physically flinch away from the words.

It's okay, Richie tells himself, it's just a joke, it's an old inside joke and it's funny. He takes a deep breath. They've always beeped him, it's not a big deal, he can't let Pennywise ruin this for him. Another deep breath and it's working. Besides, they're just trashing the trashmouth, it's not like they really mean it, right?

xxx

"I'm not afraid of you!" Richie tries, - god, he really does, - to fight back this time, but It just laughs at him.

Richie wakes up.

xxx

"You look terrible." It's the first thing Eddie tells him next day at school.

"And you look amazing as always, my dear Eddie Spaghetti." Richie jokes, but Eddie just stares back at him; he's having none of it. But it's okay, Richie knows what to do. "I'm okay, Eds, I just didn't get much sleep, too busy fucking your mom!"

"Beep beep Richie." There it is. Richie was expecting it, he really was, but somehow it still hurts.

Shaking his head, Eddie turns and leaves, leaving Richie alone in the hallway.

xxx

The needle tores through his skin and Richie wants to scream. He wants to scream, but he can't move his lips, they're sewed shut. He wants to scream, but no sound leaves his mouth, and everything is quiet, everything is so quiet, except for the splashing of gray water as Pennywise dances in front of him.

xxx

Get the fuck over this. He has to spend a few minutes psyching himself up so he can stop freaking the fuck out. Bill, Bev, Stan, they all had so much worse than he did, and they're fine. All Richie had to deal with were a few missing posters, and creepy dolls, he got off easy, so he should be okay! He's gonna be okay, it's okay.

They hang by the quarry after school, and it is okay. They're all talking and joking around, and it is more than okay, it's good. Richie lights up a cigarette he stole from Bev, and closes his eyes as he takes a deep drag.

The next minute, the cigarette is gone from his fingers, and he opens his eyes to stare at Beverly. "I'm stealing it back, asshole." She says and takes a drag.

Richie's doing his irish cop voice before he can even think about it. It slips right off his tongue and he yells at Bev that he's gonna have to arrest her for this.

Beverly is smirking at him, but then Bill calls out, from behind her:

"Ss-sh-shut up, Richie!"

Richie's first thought is to crack a smile and answer with something like "as you wish, milord," but there's something inside his mind that keeps telling him that they aren't going to laugh. That they think it's annoying.

They think he's annoying.

So Richie just does them all a favor and shuts up.

xxx

Everything hurts. His lips are numb, from the pain and the cold. He can feel all the warmth leaving him as all his blood does and he wants to scream for help, he really does, but he can't.

"You're so loud!" Pennywise laughs at him. "Even with your mouth shut, you still manage to be loud! How do you do that?"

Richie swallows the sobs wrecking his throat in an attempt to stop them. Maybe if he's good, maybe if he's quiet, he'll survive this, so he tries. He tries so hard.

"Still loud." Pennywise whispers, as he leans close to Richie. "You breathe too fucking loud."

xxx

He dials Stan's number the moment he wakes up, before he can even fucking think about what he's doing. It rings once, twice, three, four times, and the constant ringing almost lures him back to sleep, but then Stan's voice brings him back to reality.

"Who is this?" Stan sounds tired and slightly annoyed.

Hang up, hang up, hang up. Richie's mind is screaming at him, but he's frozen to the spot.

"Today's a school night, asshole!" Richie can somehow hear Stan rolling his eyes over the phone.

He feels bad for waking Stan up on a school night, he does, but he doesn't regret calling him, not when the sound of Stan's voice fills him with warmth and calms his heart. He closes his eyes and basks on this feeling for a minute, and then...

"Richie?" Stan calls for him. "Richie, I know it's you, what's..."

He helplessly watches his hand slam the phone down so fast he hits his elbow against the table. It hurts, but what hurts more is that Stan recognized him and probably hates him for calling him this late. But how? He doesn't understand. He never said a thing, how could Stanley know it was him?"

"You breathe too loud." The wind whispers and Richie shivers.

xxx

Stan is after him the next day, but Richie denies everything. "Nah, I didn't call you, Staniel the maniel." God, he used that same joke last week, it's like he's not even trying anymore. "I can call you tonight but only if you promise to wear that red thong I love so much."

"Beep beep, Richie." Mike says, absently, and, fuck, not even sweet sweet Mike likes him. The smile freezes on Richie's face, he feels numb.

"Stop with the bullshit, Richie." Stan stops walking, turns to him and stares him down. Richie feels terribly self-conscious, completely aware of everything that's wrong with him. Well, for starters, there's the teeth, the nose, the thick glasses, and his stupid fucking face that begs someone to punch it, but those are old news. Now, not even his mom's makeup can hide the dark circles under his eyes, or the red around his mouth, where he desperately scratched it to get rid of the thread Pennywise sewed his mouth shut with during his nightmares. He knows Stan notices. Stan notices everything.

"Just tell me what's going on with you." Stan goes to grab his hands, and Richie flinches away so fast Stan is taken aback . "I... I... I'm worried, Rich."

"I'm okay, Stan. Promise." Richie lies, with a way too casual shrug and the frozen smile on his lips.

xxx

The ride to the quarry is quiet and awkward, and it's all because of him, Richie knows. Stan can't stop staring at him and everyone else notices, nobody says anything about it, though. Richie's not talking, no one's talking and it's the worst. I ruined them.

When they get there, Mike breaks the terrible, awful silence and begins talking about the twin kittens he just rescued, and everything is back to normal. Eddie is fretting over the diseases that cats can bring, Beverly is inviting herself over so she can get to know them, while Bill and Ben start talking names. Even Stan joins in after a few worried glances he sends Richie's way.

They're okay, Richie lets out a breath filled with relief, but it tastes bittersweet. They're okay, but I'm not. He should go before he ruins them for real.

He opens his mouth to excuse himself, but thinks better of it. He shuts up before anyone can tell him to, before It tells him to.

No one sees him leave.

xxx

Richie doesn't want to fall asleep, because he knows it's waiting for him, and no matter what he does, or how hard he tries, he's still so loud and annoying his friends leave him to die and, oh god, oh god, he just wants it to stop.

"Just stop talking once and for all." Pennywise whispers in his ears, and Richie doesn't even have any tears left to cry.

Richie has nothing left to do, but consider it. Maybe. Maybe he could. Maybe he should. It would be better for his friends and for everyone really, so maybe...

He suddenly opens his eyes, woken by pebbles being thrown at his window, but he doesn't remember falling asleep. He must have passed out from exhaustion, but still he feels tired. He feels so so tired. Another pebble hits his window, and Richie blinks awake, forcing himself to get up and move. He goes to the window and thinks he's still dreaming because all six of the losers are there.

"Ruh-Ruh-Richie let us in!" Bill asks and Eddie throws out a "yeah, asshole," while everyone else just nods.

Richie shouldn't. He knows he shouldn't, but he could never deny them anything, so he quietly goes down the stairs and opens the door for them.

"What the fuck, Richie?" Bev shoves him in the shoulder. But no one else dares to say anything else until they reach Richie's room.

"What she said." Ben points to Beverly. "Richie, why did you leave without telling us?"

You guys are better off without me. Richie doesn't say, he just shrugs.

"You know you can tell us anything, right?" Mike tries, and Richie nods. His friends are too good for him, and in return he just annoys the fuck out of them.

"T-t-talk to us, Ruh-ruh-Richie." Bill asks him and because it's Bill, strong, brave, loyal Bill, Richie tries his best to obey.

"What do you want me to say?" It's quiet, it's the quietest he manages, but it still annoys everyone.

"How about what the fuck is wrong with you?" Eddie yells, his voice turning high and desperate, and he's so angry, Bill has to hold him back.

"I... I'm sorry, Eds... Eddie." Richie remembers how much Eddie hates his stupid nicknames on time, and stops himself.

Eddie's mouth opens and closes, and then opens again. "Stop this shit, Richie." He's so angry, he's ready to fight, but he doesn't know who he can fight and that just makes him even angrier.

"I'm sorry!" Richie cries. "I'm so sorry, guys. Just... Just tell me what you want me to say, and I'll say it, I'll do whatever you want me to, I just... I know I'm annoying and loud, but I can do better, I can change, I know I can, so please..."

"What?"

"Richie!"

Everyone bursts out talking at the same time, and Richie knows he's made them angry, so he closes his eyes and takes a few steps back. "no, no, no, make it stop. Make. it. stop."

And suddenly it does. The room falls silent as arms wrap around him, and hold him tight. Richie opens his eyes and meets Stan's brown ones. His best friend dropped to his knees so he could hug him. "Richie." He's gentle, he's so very gentle. "What did It say to you?"

Someone gasps behind them at the mention of It, but Stan doesn't turn around. Richie has his entire focus, and it should be intimidating, but it isn't. Being this close to his best friend makes him feel safe.

"It...It told me...to..." Richie's sobs stop him, and he frantically fights to overcome them, breathing heavily. He doesn’t remember when he started crying.

"It's okay, honey, take your time." Beverly kneels down in front of them, resting her hand on his shoulder, Ben coming right after her. Everyone follows them, slowly getting closer, wanting to provide some comfort.

"We're your f-fr-friends." Bill takes one of Richie's hands, and Mike takes the other.

"Richie." Eddie says, and Richie immediately, instinctively turns to look at him. He's the only one still standing, his fists clenched and shaking. "Richie, please." He knows his friend is hurting, and there's no one for him to fight, unless he goes back to the sewers to kick Pennywise's corpse. He feels helpless, defeated.

Richie reaches for him, but stops in mid air, hesitating when he realizes what he's doing. Eddie doesn't hesitate, though, he meets Richie in the middle, throwing his arms around his friend's neck.

He's not the only one. Everyone's hugging Richie now, just like they've all hugged Bill in the sewers, after killing It.

It's dead, It's dead, It can't hurt us, not when we're together. Richie sobs again, but this time he feels a little better.

"I'm just..." After some time, he begins. "Remembering Neibolt, when we were separated." He looks at Bill, who only nods encouragingly. "It locked me in this creepy room with all these creepy dolls and clowns, and there was this... This coffin. It had my missing poster on it and when I opened it, I was inside." Ben squeezes his hand. "A doll version of me, I mean, but it had its lips sewed shut. And... Pennywise showed up seconds later and It kept beeping me and telling me to shut up and he was holding a needle and a thread and I..." He has to stop for a moment, remind himself to breathe. "Then Big Bill opened the door and saved me and I'm okay!" He talks quickly, wanting to get it over with.

"You're not." Beverly says softly, brushing his hair off of his eyes.

"I have nightmares, too." Stan says before Richie can lie.

"It... It hurts." Richie continues. "The needle, every night It sews my lips together, and tells me to shut the fuck up, and It really meant it. It wants me dead."

Nobody says anything, but the hands hold him tighter.

"And the worst thing is that I know It's right. I talk too much, I'm a fucking trashmouth and I annoy the fuck out of you guys, and you don't deserve... Maybe, maybe I should shut up. Like, for good."

The outrage is immediate. Mike and Bill sound shocked, Ben and Stan sound sad, Bev and Eddie sound angry. Eddie is suddenly on his feet, yelling. "IF YOU FUCKING DIE I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!"

Richie blinks at all of them, and then turns to Eddie. "That... doesn't even make sense. How can you kill me if I'm already dead?"

"Fucking watch me." Eddie bites back, the same moment Bev adds a "we'll find a way," and, suddenly laughter comes out of nowhere.

They're all surprised, and Richie is the most surprised to realize that he's the one laughing.

"Guys, I..." He doesn't know how to finish.

"Go on, Richie." Mike prompts him.

"I don't really have anything to say." Richie chews on the inside of his cheeks.

"That never stopped you before." Stan says, and it's so incredibly fond that Richie melts. "We want to listen to you."

"You guys don't have to..."

"We don't have to, but we want to." Ben corrects him.

"Fuck that fucking clown!" Bev groans. "It's wrong! It doesn't know anything about us!"

"It d-d-d-doesn't know how mu-much we love you, and your t-t-trash mouth." Bill completes her. "Tell us a-a-anything."

Richie's in awe. Fuck, he has the best friends ever, how did he accomplish that, what did he do to deserve them, what can he do to deserve them?

"I love you guys so much." He settles on telling the truth.

"We love you too, but go on." Bev smiles at him. "Proclaim your undying love for us, milord!" She's going for an english accent and it's horrible. Richie laughs, they all do, and right there, in his room, surrounded by so much love and affection, it's easy to find good things to say about them.

So he talks. He talks, and they listen.

#stozier #reddie #well ish #this fic is gen #but there are both stozier and reddie scenes #OT7 #sometimes i write #mine #losers club #it 2017 #richie tozier #stan uris #eddie kaspbrak #they all love each other so much I'm emotional #someone pls help richie #he's a mess

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willgayers · 7 years ago

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hey! i know you said you mostly do reddie but i was wondering if you would be kind enough and do some stozier too.. maybe with stan being in love with richie but he not noticing it? let it be bc of eddie so there's reddie too :D

hey! its not a problem. :-) honestly i think this is a fun idea and even refreshing bc of all the reddie stuff i have to write so i feel like keeping this as up as series might help me with my writers block idk??? but yeah, there’s some reddie and also cheerleader!eddie warnings; drinking at the end but not heavy. also minor mentions of sex

does any reddie shipper from the tag list want off of it with this fic? does any stozier shipper wanna get on it for this? tell me and i will grant your wish

“So Eddie, are we gonna meet after school today?” Stanley asked Eddie as they were sitting on the school inner yard during lunch. “To work on the history project.”

“Shit, that was today?” Eddie asked, and Stan already knew what he was going to say, making his stomach drop a little with disappointment. Not only was he annoyed that Kaspbrak hadn’t really put any effort to the assignment that was a pair study, he was constantly blowing Stan off for Richie.

“Yeah, that was today. It’s Thursday.” Stan said.

“God, I’m sorry, but I promised to go to the movies with Richie.” He said.

“You can’t do that some other day?” Stan frowned.

“Can’t we work that assignment on like, Monday or something?” Eddie asked.

“It’s due Friday, Eddie!” Stanley was pissed off.

Before the brunette could answer, a third person joined their table.

“What’s cooking good looking?”

Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie from behind, snuggling his face to the crook of the shorter boy’s neck as Eddie giggled from the tickling feeling.

“Hey, Rich.” Eddie smiled, before the two of them exchanged a kiss.

Stanley just turned his gaze down, sticking his fork in to the carrot on his plate and guiding it to his mouth. During this, Richie had jumped to the other side of the bench, his hand lazily hanging around Eddie’s shoulder.

“Stan the Man!” Richie smirked, Stanley lifting his gaze.

“Hey,” he said.

“Why so broody?” Richie asked, his gaze sinking down to the plate in front of him. “Wow— I guess that’s why. What even is that?”

“It’s called potato smash, Richie.” Stan said. “With some chicken. And salad.”

“What, you trying to get in shape for some movie, superstar?” Richie laughed, and Stanley glanced away— he didn’t like to be laughed at, especially not by Richie. “I like what I’m seeing on Eddie’s tray more.”

Richie leaned to grab a cheese fry from the tiny cardboard box in front of Eddie.

“Come on, Rich. Stanley’s nice enough to finish the history assignment tonight so that I can hang out with you,” Eddie said, playing with the buttons of Richie’s flannel. Richie glanced at his boyfriend before he turned his gaze to Stanley, who had his mouth open from confusion.

“Is that so?” Richie asked, but his question went un-answered.

“Finish the history assignment?” Stan asked. “Eddie, you’ve barely written a sentence for it!”

“What? Come on, don’t be ridiculous,” Eddie said. “I’ve helped you.”

“Well if you considering texting your boyfriend and chuckling after each one helping,” Stan blurted out, the annoyance shining through from his voice.

Eddie and Richie glanced at each other, a little confused.

“Chill out, Stanley,” Richie said.

“Whatever,” Stanley mumbled, getting up from the table. “Have fun at the movies.”

“Oh, come on Stan—” Eddie tried but the boy was already walking away.

—–—

Later that day Stanley was sitting in his room by his writing desk, his room dark and only lit by the yellow tiny lamp on the desk.

His hand moved on top of the paper as he kept on glancing at his laptop, reading the research he had gathered, when his doorbell rang.

He frowned as he dropped the pen to the paper and got up, before making his way downstairs and to the door.

And his eyes widened lightly at the sight.

“Richie?” He asked.

“Correct,” Richie nodded. “Can I come in?”

“Um…” Stanley mumbled.

“Oh, come on.” Richie said. “It’s not like I’m trying to sell you some poor handcraft or talk about our lord and savior.”

“Fine, come on in.” Stan said and stepped away from the door, Richie flashing him a smirk before he stepped in, glancing around the house immediately. Richie had actually never been at Stanley’s before; only seen his house from the outside, but this was because Uris didn’t exactly prefer guests.

“Nice house,” Richie commented, grabbing a porcelain goose from the vestibule table and turning it around in his hands, looking in from the hole underneath it.

“Aren’t you supposed to be with Eddie?” Stanley asked, leaning over to grab the goose from his hands and placing it back to the table.

“I’m on my way there,” Richie said. “I just wanted to stop by first.”

“Why?” Stanley frowned, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“To give you this.” Richie said, leaning to pull something out of his back pocket before holding it out to Stan, who glanced at it.

“Are you serious right now?” Stan asked, staring at the ten dollar bill.

“It’s not fair you do all the work and get nothing in return.” Richie shrugged.

“You’re literally paying me to finish the assignment?” Stan asked.

“Yeah. And keep Eddie’s name in it, if your mind would considering taking it off.” Richie said. “Just take it.”

“I am not to be bought, Richie!” Stan blurted out.

“Oh, come on. We’re all friends here, Stanley. I’m not buying you— I’m simply just… being a nice person.” Richie said.

Stanley raised his brows.

“Fine.” He said. “You don’t want the money, don’t take it— I just thought it would be only fair if you—”

Stanley snatched the money from between Richie’s bony fingers fast, a smirk rising to Richie’s face.

“I knew it,” he said. “So, you’ll keep Eddie’s name in it?”

“I’ll keep Eddie’s name in it.” Stanley mumbled.

“Yay! You’re an angel, Uris.” Richie said, grabbing Stanley’s head and pressing a kiss to his forehead; this made Stanley’s stomach fill with butterflies.

“Whatever.” He still just murmured out, not showing any of the feelings inside of him.

“Order a pizza or something.” Richie said, walking over to the door and opening it. “It’s on me.”

He did the finger-guns at Stanley before clicking his tongue and walking out, pulling the door shut behind him— and Stan sighed, shook his head and made his way upstairs.

—–—

The next day at school, Eddie and Richie were all over each other like usual.

“So Big Bill, that party happening tonight or not?” Richie asked.

The losers were hanging out at the bleachers during their skip-class.

“Yeah,” Bill said. “My pah-parents leave at eight.”

“Awesomeness!” Richie smirked. “You’re gonna give me and Eds your bedroom though, right?”

Eddie rolled his eyes as his boyfriend wiggled his eyebrows at him from above; Eddie was sitting between his legs on the lower bench.

“Hell no, T-Tozier. Tah—That’s disgusting.” Bill said.

“Whatever.” Richie said. “Guess we’re gonna have to settle for the bathroom again.”

He kissed Eddie as the brunette giggled, and all the other losers apart from Stanley just shook their heads with small smiles on their face.

Again? The word made Stanley’s stomach turn around; the idea of Richie and Eddie making out or doing God knows what at each party made him feel awful. He’d never really even thought of it; but was he stupid? Of course they were getting it on at every party. Why wouldn’t they?

“So who’s getting the beer?” Beverly then asked. “Stan, it’s your turn. Richie and I have done it already.”

Richie had made all the losers their own fake ID's— exactly for situations like these.

“Huh?” Stanley flinched back to the moment from glaring at the couple. “Me?”

“Beverly’s rah-right.” Bill said. “It’s your turn.”

Now Eddie and Richie pulled away from each other; well, from each other’s mouths at least.

“Ayeeee, Stanley!” Richie called out, loud.

“Honestly guys, I’m not sure I’m gonna make it.” Stanley shrugged.

“What?” Beverly asked. “You can’t just bail on us.”

Why not? Stanley wanted to answer. Eddie and Richie bailed on the movie night they were all supposed to have last month because they had “something better to do”, according to their words.

“Right,” The light-brown haired boy just only said. “I guess I won’t.”

“Yeah! Partyyyyy!” Richie called, nudging Stan’s back with his knee as he was sitting on the bench above him.

—–—

At the beginning of history class, Stanley was making some final marks to the assignment, when he heard a voice next to him.

“So did you do it?” Eddie asked, and Stanley glanced up at him.

“Uh-huh,” he said.

“And you’re not gonna, like… tell Mrs. Polly that…?”

“That I basically did this by myself?” Stanley asked, now lifting his gaze up to Eddie fully.

The brunette didn’t say anything.

“I’m not,” Stan then mumbled, before going back to writing. “Even though you’d deserve it.”

He gave Eddie one more glare.

“I know, and I’m sorry, okay?” He asked.

“Whatever,” Stanley said, and he didn’t lift his gaze anymore until he saw Eddie not even staying to sit down next to him, but making his way to the front of the class where all the cheerleaders were.

—–—

Around 10PM, Stanley had arrived at the door of Bill’s with two bags of beer cans.

“Hey, Stan.” Bill smiled lightly.

“Hey,” Stan nodded, before walking in.

They made their way to the kitchen where the losers were, some pop song playing from the stereos, but not too loud, as there were already opened half eaten pizza boxes on the table.

“Finally!” Richie blurted out, rushing over to Stanley to grab the bags from him. The teens basically attacked the bags so that they would all get their own cans.

“Aren’t you gonna get one, Stan?” Ben asked, and Stanley glanced at him, before sighing and sitting down, grabbing one Bud Light to himself too.

An hour from that, the house was already bustling with people from their school; and of course, there was a circle of truth and dare going on in the living room.

“Truth or dare, Billy?” Richie asked, leaning back on his place as he sipped on his beer.

“Truth.”

“When’s the last time you jacked off?” Richie smirked, earning some chuckles from the people in the circle.

“W-what?” Bill blurted out.

“Yeah,” Richie said. “When’s the last time you jacked off.”

“Jesus, Richie, w-when’s the last time you?” Bill asked, annoyed with him.

“This morning.” The dark haired boy shrugged, and Eddie shook his head in amusement, next to his boyfriend, who winked at him.

“Well, Billy?” Richie then asked. "Time’s ticking.“

Stan kinda felt bad for him; masturbating was a personal thing and not all were as open with it as Richie was.

“Tick tock tick tock tick toc—”

“Last night,” Bill finally said, a blush forming to his face.

“Nice.” Richie said. “Spin the bottle.”

Bill, still embarrassed, leaned to the middle of the circle to spin the bottle.

“Richie,” Bill said. “Truth or d—”

“Dare, obviously.” He said. “I’m not a wuss.”

Bill was a little disappointed; there was probably nothing for Richie to do that would be embarrassing for him.

“Oooo, can I pick one?” Beverly rushed to say, before turning her gaze to Bill. “I mean— if you don’t know one already.”

“Be my g-guest.” Bill said, holding his hand out.

“Well, it would be fair. You did kiss Bill earlier instead of the other way around,” Richie shrugged. “What is it, then?”

“You gotta choose one person— not Eddie— and lick salt off their lower tummy, take a tequila shot from their navel and then eat a lemon from their mouth.” Beverly said.

Stanley’s stomach sunk— oh my God, just don’t pick him.

“Pfffft, what kind of a dare is that?” Richie laughed. “That only sounds like fun!”

Eddie however didn’t look as impressed as he stared at his boyfriend, now gazing around the circle like some kind of an animal preying.

Stanley had turned his gaze away, trying not to make eye-contact; the way you do when teachers are looking for someone to volunteer and read the next chapter out loud.

“Stanley!”

The poor boy felt like someone threw a brick at his chest as he turned his head to face Richie, now smirking at him.

“What?” Stanley just blurted out.

“Shirt up! I choose you,” Richie said. Beverly was already getting the supplies.

“Na'ah, I’m not doing that,” Stanley shook his head.

“You kinda don’t have a say in that, though.” Richie said, before he crawled over to Stanley on his knees.

“Shirt up!” He commanded again, and Stanley glanced around again, all eyes of the circle focused on him now.

“Come oooonnnn, Stan. It’s not like I’m asking you to blow me.” Richie said, and the thought immediately blushed his cheeks as a few chuckled.

“Okay, that’s it,” Richie sighed and gently shoved Stanley to his back from his shoulders, and pulled his t-shirt up to his chest.

Stanley was shocked, only staring up at Richie with wide eyes as the boy first grabbed the salt from Beverly, and started to sprinkle it in a line on top of Stanley’s lower stomach, right between his V-line.

Then he grabbed the already filled shot glass, placed it on the navel, and last but not least;

“Open up.” Richie said, holding the slice of lemon in his hand.

Stanley knew it would do no good to fight back at this time, so he just sighed and opened his mouth, so that Richie could adjust the citrus in his mouth.

“Okay, everything ready?” Beverly asked.

“Yeah,” Richie said.

“Aaaand GO!” Beverly said, and Richie lowered his head down to Stanley’s stomach, and the second his tongue touched the skin of the boy on the floor, Stanley felt his breath hitch in his throat and his body go limb. People were cheering and clapping around them.

After that, Richie wrapped his lips around the shot glass and tilted his head back, the burning liquid falling down his throat, before he spat the glass down, and then, he stopped, smirking down at Stanley as his face hovered over his— Stanley’s head was spinning at this point— and then Richie placed his mouth down on his, grabbing the lemon with his lips and squeezing the fruit into his mouth, before he got up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Mission completed.” He announced and people whistled and clapped as he made his way over to Eddie, who looked pissed off.

“What?” Richie asked Eddie.

“Nothing.” Eddie shrugged. Richie didn’t pay much attention to that, because he was used to Eddie getting jealous over the tiniest of things.

“Okay, Stanley, you can get up now, buddy.” Mike said from next to him and helped him get back up on his ass.

“Holy shit—” Beverly suddenly blurted out.

“What?” Stanley asked.

“Are you having a boner?”

All blood rushed down from Stanley’s face as he glanced down at his pants and the visible bulge on his beige chinos, and it was like straight from a nightmare where you’re standing naked in public and everyone’s laughing at you.

Because all the teens around did start to laugh.

“Holy shit, I am good!” Richie blurted out.

Stanley was embarrassed as hell, and he knew he should’ve ran the hell away from the situation already, but for some reason his feet couldn’t move.

Then he turned his gaze to Richie and Eddie— Eddie looked even more pissed off now, glaring at Richie who was clearly proud of himself.

And then Stanley jumped up and rushed upstairs, shoving people out of his way, the laughter still echoing in his ears before he locked himself in the bathroom, soon feeling the hot tears starting to leak out of his eyes.

@nopetaking @xbell22 @donthateonk8@stenbroughbros @reddiebrekmyheart @itsgreywaterrichie @donvex @blueeyespurpleskies@ageorgymi @oh-youre-the-worst@eddiekaaspbraak @oldfashionedvanilla @rissyq @richietoaster@edskasqbrak @waterlouis @wyattghouleff @urtury @bukiminajimu @kcutieeesblog@stansmansuris @adorefack @reddieaddict @icyeyes102@denbroughbill @graveyardshipper@taletellingsir @anxiety-freak-yuuri @rheddie

#fics #stozier #stan uris #richie tozier #it fanfiction

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