#eddie kaspbrak still holds my heart but i have room in my heart for many eddies

[chaoticeddie]

BUDDIE ICON HELLO BUDDIE ICOM

!!!!!! tara omg I am enjoying this show SO MUCH and then I realized that I already have a username for bestest boy eddie diaz????? it was meant to be 💗

[grapesodatozier]

so close to the real thing (closer than you think)

rating: explicit

word count: 6.8k

summary: Eddie's been pining over Richie for as long as he can remember. He loves everything about Richie; especially how much Richie loves touching him. It's a little inconvenient, though. Eddie copes with his pent up sexual tension by constantly checking a porn blog he's obsessed with on tumblr. This guy has the same type of body as Richie, he talks like Richie, his name is even Richie! It makes it all too easy for Eddie to pretend it really is Richie while getting himself off to all of the blog's content.

You'll never guess what he finds out when he starts sexting this stranger named Richie from his anonymous porn blog.

tags: friends to lovers, porn with feelings, love confessions, dom/sub dynamics, bi dom top richie, gay sub bottom eddie, the most oblivious pining idiots in the world lol we love them

notes: this is one of my more ridiculous ideas but I had so much fun with it lol. also as a note you probably should not approach people on the internet the way they do in this fic, but they're just v enthusiastic and everything here is v consensual!! still tho definitely don't take this indulgent fic as a guide on how to approach real people online lmao. okay have fun!!

read on ao3 or below!!

notsfw under the cut

Eddie Kaspbrak’s friends were his entire world; time spent with them meant everything to him. But he also really valued his alone time. He’d always been the sort who needed time to just sit on a grassy hill and watch the trains go by, to catch up on comics in his room, to get lost in Netflix shows or even just his thoughts as he moseyed around his apartment—one he live in by himself, for when these moods hit. He needed time to himself to unwind. And sometimes he unwound by scrolling through some porn blogs on tumblr with his hand in his pants.

There was one blog that he was particularly fond of. There were other blogs more catered to his personal interests, namely blogs that didn’t feature women like this one did. But there was a good balance of genders represented, so Eddie figured he could just scroll past those posts. This guy was worth it. His pictures were ridiculously hot, and his dirty talk was even hotter.

Also, his name was Richie. Which Eddie refused to acknowledge as part of the draw.

It was harder to ignore tonight. He’d been out with the losers, and Richie had just been so touchy. And there was something about the way he'd been talking; his voice was lower than normal, slower in a way that made Eddie’s stomach flip. And his touches had lingered, his hand squeezing Eddie’s hip slow, then lazily brushing against his ass as he dropped it. Eddie could hardly take it. He brushed it off as Richie just being tired from work, but god, Eddie wanted it to mean more. The hardest part was hiding how much he wanted Richie to keep doing it.

There were so many things Eddie wanted Richie to do to him. He wanted Richie to touch him harder, to grab him by his hips with both hands. Richie’s hands were so big; Eddie just knew Richie could manhandle him so easily, so roughly. He wanted to know what it would feel like to have Richie’s hands all over him, grabbing at his ass and his thighs, holding his wrists down, making him feel so small. While Eddie would never admit it, huffing at every short joke Richie made, but he loved being shorter than Richie. He loved how safe he felt when Richie held him. And he was dying to know how small he would feel with Richie looming above him, or sitting in Richie’s lap, bouncing on his cock. He wanted to hear Richie talking to him in that low, slow voice, with that condescension Eddie did his best to pretend not to be affected by. He wanted Richie to whisper in his ear and call him all those pretty names he always dropped so casually, all those sweet ones and also ones that were a lot meaner. He wanted Richie to want him.

But it was easier to think about it than to ask for it. He knew Richie had way more experience than him. Well, okay, maybe not way more necessarily, but they were starting their third year of college, and he hadn’t wasted any time. Eddie, on the other hand, hadn’t done anything more than hand stuff with someone else. The guys he’d hooked up with were nice enough, and hot enough, but they just… weren’t Richie.

He supposed this guy on tumblr wasn’t Richie either, but at least he was everything else Eddie wanted. None of his hookups had been so, well, dominant, and that was this guy’s whole thing. He was dominant and a top and into guys that looked like Eddie. He even kind of talked like Richie, and he was apparently pining over his best friend, just like Eddie was. It had him completely smitten. Plus, internet-Richie’s crush had brown eyes like Eddie, and he ran track, just like Eddie did. Internet-Richie had posted once about his dick getting hard watching his friend at his track meet, and Eddie had come so hard that night, his track shorts around his ankles, imagining his Richie thinking those things about him.

Eddie was in bed now, in nothing but his boxers and one of Richie’s old shirts that had been Eddie’s for a while now. Still reeling from the way Richie had been acting that night, he logged into his porn account on his phone and scrolled through his dash for a grand total of thirty seconds before going immediately to internet-Richie’s blog. A thrill went through Eddie’s body when he saw that he had just posted. He’d written, “god my friends gonna fuckn kill me with that ass, i wanna plow him so bad” then reblogged it and added, “reminder that my asks and dms are always open if any pretty needy little subs need help getting off. please come be sluts in my messages.” Eddie’s breath caught in his throat when he saw that there was a picture, too, one of him gripping his hard cock, his boxers pulled down just enough for Eddie to see the dark hair around the base of his cock. Eddie moaned at the sight. His cock was so nice, so long and thick and pink. And fuck, his fingers. They were so long and slim, almost as nice as his-Richie’s.

Eddie scrolled a little farther down, his heart racing. There were a lot of reblogs, but some original posts here and there, things like, “what i wouldn’t do to have a pretty guy drooling all over my cock rn,” and, “in the mood to get someone dick drunk. wanna fuck a someone so hard they forget their own name.” One that made Eddie nearly choke said, “want someone i can pump my come into whenever i want, over and over again. want a sub i can keep full of my come all the fuckn time.” That post had Eddie getting out his lube.

It also had him thinking about internet-Richie’s most recent post, his post about his DMs being open.

Eddie bit his lip and thought about it. He’d sent internet-Richie some asks before from his porn blog (his blog didn’t have his name on it, just the teddy bear emoji, since he privately thought the teddy/Eddie rhyme was fun and clever, and also it was cute), and he’d seemed plenty happy enough to respond then. Still, it felt like a much bigger step to DM him, to talk to him just one on one. But the more he read his posts, the more he thought about his-Richie and how he’d touched Eddie that night, the easier it was to convince himself to shoot his shot with this stranger.

Eddie just messaged him a simple, “hi,” with a heart emoji. It was innocent enough, but his heart was still racing.

Internet-Richie responded a lot faster than Eddie was expecting. Honestly he hadn’t been expecting a response at all. But he said:

hiya cutie (; ive been hoping youd message me

Eddie flushed. He couldn’t help but hear cutie in his-Richie’s voice—especially given how often Richie used the nickname. really? he typed back.

fuck yes, ur cute little messages make me so hard. i can tell ur a pretty little thing just from the way you type

Eddie was blushing deep. Pretty little thing. That was hotter than it should’ve been. He wanted his Richie to talk to him like that, in that deep, sleepy voice.

there’s no way you can tell that from some messages :P, Eddie sent.

His heart stopped at the next messages internet-Richie sent.

oh, u dont think so?

why dont u send me some pics to prove me wrong (;

Oh my god, Eddie thought, his breath coming short. His head swam at the thought of sending this guy nudes, of showing himself off to someone who clearly wanted to see him, who would know how to take care of him and fuck him the way he liked, a guy with his crush’s fucking name and body type and hands. It had Eddie’s cock hard and leaking, and he slowly slid a finger inside of himself.

But just because the thought turned him on didn’t mean he was gonna send this stranger what he wanted so easily, even if he desperately wanted to.

you’d like that, wouldn’t you?

He fingered himself open as he waited for a response, working his way up to two fingers. It was nearly impossible to ignore his cock, but he didn’t want to come before the conversation even had a chance to start.

fuck ya i would, internet-Richie responded. Then, in a second message, whats wrong baby? you shy? ill show u mine ;)

Eddie's breath caught. God, this guy even made stupid shit sound hot, just like Eddie’s Richie. This was unreal.

i’ve seen yours, Eddie pointed out.

ya and you musta liked it if ur messaging me rn

Eddie bit his lip. ...maybe

aw thats cute sweetheart. u know i can see all the needy little tags you add when u reblog my stuff right?

Eddie blushed. He’d kind of always hoped he’d read them, but he never thought he actually did. i didn’t know you read those

oh ya, read them, jerk off to them. bit of a size queen, aren’t you? ;) it’s cute. makes me so fuckn hard when u talk abt how u want me to fill you up

Eddie whimpered out loud, sliding a third finger into himself. Fuck, he wanted that cock inside of him so bad. But right now one of his toys would have to do, once he was stretched out enough. He sped up his fingers, getting impatient. Gathering up all of his horny courage, he sent, show me.

what, no please? only good boys who use their manners get dick pics babydoll

Eddie pouted and whined to himself, making quick work of sliding his hot pink vibrator inside of himself—well, as quickly as he could without hurting himself. He moaned as it filled him up, making pleasure spread deep through his body. Slowly pumping it in and out, he reached for his phone. please, he typed, please let me see? wanna know what to picture while i fuck myself with my vibrator. He even added the wide eyed pouting emoji to really milk the whole begging thing. He knew he’d been playing a little coy, but now with the way internet-Richie was talking to him he was getting desperate.

well fuck baby since ur begging ;)

Eddie held his breath as he waited for the picture, slowly rocking his toy in and out, savoring the feeling. He wished it was Richie doing it, wished it was his cock. The lines between which Richie blurred; he wanted to get fucked by either of them, both of them.

What Eddie received when his phone lit up was not a picture, but a video. It was short, just a few seconds of Richie’s hand dragging wetly, smoothly over his cock, but it had Eddie drooling. The room was dark, so he’d used a flash, and it made the mix of what Eddie assumed was precome and spit glisten as the swollen head of Richie’s cock disappeared and reappeared from behind his fingers. Eddie must’ve played it at least five times, fucking himself a little faster, before remembering to say something back. And to take a video of his own. fuck, I want you so bad, want you to fucking ruin me, he wrote back. A part of him couldn’t believe how openly desperate he was being, but he found that he liked it; he liked the way it made him blush, he liked the way it felt to beg, to ask for what he wanted.

Richie’s response came fast: show me kitten. show me how you want me to fuck your pretty little ass.

Eddie moaned at the pet name; casual little nicknames were such a weakness for him. He was already so far gone, just picturing Richie’s cock inside of him, picturing him stroking his cock to thoughts of Eddie. The attention had his cock hard and leaking as he thrust his vibrator even deeper inside of himself, pumping it in and out a few more times before rolling over and getting on his hands and knees. It was hard to take a video from this angle, but he wanted to show off his ass and hide his face. Plus, there was something so hot about having his ass in the air and his face shoved in his pillow, looking like the perfect image of someone desperate to be fucked. He loved the way it made him feel, loved the thought of being so open for someone. For Richie.

He ended up shooting a short video as well, about ten seconds of him sliding his vibrator slowly in and out of himself, letting out soft little moans. He was pretty pleased with the way it turned out, his hole pink and smooth and wet as it stretched around his toy. The angle was a little weird, showing a lot of his room once or twice when his hand slipped a little, but overall he thought his ass looked amazing, if he did say so himself. He sent it and said, feels so good. do you want me to go faster?

As he sent it, he got settled on his back, forcing himself to go slow as he fucked himself while he waited for internet-Richie’s response. It was taking longer than before, and Eddie was getting antsy; it was so hard to drag it out, to not get ahead of himself. But whatever Richie was doing, Eddie knew it would be worth the wait. Still, he pouted as his cock ached, begging for attention.

He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a knock at the door.

He groaned to himself and stayed put, fucking himself even slower as he waited for whoever it was to leave. But then the knocking continued, loud and incessant and obnoxious, and Eddie knew exactly who it was. He also knew he wasn’t going to go away any time soon, which honestly made him smile and blush. Richie had terrible timing, but Eddie would never be upset to see him.

Reluctantly, he slowly slid the toy out and pulled on his shorts, leaving his shirt off. He still had a pretty obvious boner, but his horny brain did not mind the idea of Richie seeing it. So he strode lazily down the hall, shouting a performatively annoyed, “I’m coming!” Finally, he opened the door, cocking his hip to the side and giving Richie an expectant look. “Can I help you?” he asked, a small smile dancing around the corner of his lips. He had to fight off a smirk at the wide eyed look Richie gave him as he ran his eyes over Eddie’s body.

“Fuck,” he muttered lowly, his eyes trained on Eddie’s cock, which was getting even harder the more Richie stared. Eddie bit his lip and grinned a little, making doe eyes at Richie. But Richie didn’t meet his gaze—instead he brushed past Eddie, his mouth still hanging open as he made his way urgently toward Eddie’s bedroom.

“Richie?” Eddie asked, a little let down that Richie’s hands weren’t all over him right now. But hey, if he was heading to Eddie’s bedroom he figured that was at least the right direction. He closed his front door and followed Richie into his room, where he found him staring at the bright pink vibrator on the bed. As confident and horny as Eddie was feeling, that still made him blush. He was only human. Crossing his arms, he said, bashful now, “I was kind of in the middle of something.”

Richie looked over at him, his cheeks bright red under his freckles. Then he got a glimmer of that trademark shit-eating grin on his face. “Eds, you fucking slut,” he said, sounding both delighted and breathless. “You are so fucking hot.”

Eddie flushed and tried not to squirm, but he couldn’t help but press his legs together, his eyes brightening. Fuck, was this actually happening? Shit, he needed to think of something witty to say. “You gonna do anything about it?” Okay, that kinda sounded like a corny porn, but he had to give himself credit for even being able to form words just after his lifelong crush and personal wet dream had just admitted his attraction to him.

“I think I already have been,” Richie said, still grinning.

Eddie cocked an eyebrow at him. He couldn’t help but smile back. “Oh yeah? How do you figure that?”

Eddie was expecting a confession. He was expecting something along the lines of you think I don’t notice how you look at me? or did you really think those were casual touches earlier? What he was not expecting was for Richie to unlock his phone and hold it up, showing Eddie the video he had just taken, the video he’d sent to internet-Richie.

Oh. Oh. Oh fuck.

“Oh my god, that’s you?” Eddie cried in disbelief.

“You’re telling me you didn’t recognize this dick?” Richie asked, swaggering over to Eddie, clearly enjoying himself.

“How did you recognize it was me?”

Richie nodded toward the Thundercats poster on Eddie’s wall, then to the model train that sat on his dresser. “What other guy has decor like that and the ass to match?”

Eddie grinned and shook his head. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Well pardon me for not being especially eloquent when I’ve just learned that the guy I’ve been masturbating to since I learned how to and been in love with for even longer has been masturbating to me too.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide, all thoughts of getting fucked leaving for a moment. “You’re in love with me?” he asked, his voice as soft as his smile.

Richie was not a bashful person, but the little laugh he let out just then was close to it. “Have been my whole life, but thanks for finally noticing.”

Eddie shook his head and stepped closer, until he had to crane his head up to meet Richie’s gaze. “I love you too.”

Richie’s eyes widened behind his thick frames. Eddie had only seen that look in Richie’s eyes a few times before, but he never wanted to lose sight of it again. He always wanted Richie to look at him like that. But then Richie was closing his eyes and leaning down. It only took Eddie a second to get with the program, drinking in the moment just a little longer before letting his own eyes fall shut as he pressed his lips against Richie’s.

It started gentle enough, if deep and passionate and intentional. But then Richie’s hands were on Eddie’s bare waist, skin against skin, and Eddie was gasping into Richie’s mouth, his hands coming up and resting against Richie’s chest. He curled his fingers into Richie’s shirt as Richie ran his tongue over Eddie’s lips, just before pulling away. He laughed at Eddie’s indignant little whine.

“Oh, you mean you don’t want me to take off my shirt right now?” he smirked as Eddie tried to pull him closer by the offending fabric. Huffing, Eddie conceded and let go long enough to let Richie pull the shirt off over his head.

“Oh,” he said softly, his voice a little, awed moan as he drank in Richie’s chest. It wasn’t like Richie had never been shirtless in front of Eddie before, but Eddie had never felt like he was allowed to really look at Richie all those times. But now he could; now he could touch. And he did, running his fingers over Richie’s smooth, warm skin, over his acne scars and blackheads and freckles. “Fuck, Richie,” he sighed before pressing his lips to Richie’s collarbones, trailing them all over Richie’s beautiful chest.

Richie gave a breathless, almost shy laugh as he stroked Eddie’s hair. “Damn, Eds, never pegged you as a tits guy.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Eddie giggled, bringing his lips back to Richie��s. They both smiled into it, getting lost for a moment as Richie’s hands slid slowly down Eddie’s sides. His hands lingered on Eddie’s hips for a moment before he slid them further down and grabbed at Eddie’s ass, making him gasp.

“Is that any way to talk to the guy who’s about to rail you ‘til you can’t walk?”

“What’re you gonna do about it?” Eddie asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Spank me?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Richie smirked. He gave Eddie’s ass a playful smack, making Eddie gasp again and fall into him, needing more. Richie’s voice was dripping with adoration as he purred, “Little brat,” and pulled Eddie against him, kissing him again. Eddie went with it easily and happily parted his lips to let Richie lick into his mouth. Richie had one hand gripping Eddie’s jaw and the other on his ass, touching him in a way that exuded a command Eddie was desperate to follow. God, Eddie knew Richie had big hands, but they felt huge on him like this. It was dizzyingly hot. And the way Richie’s tongue was teasing his had Eddie’s knees going weak. His dick was throbbing in his shorts, aching to finish what he’d started, what had been interrupted. When he thought about it all—about playing with himself for Richie, about the video Richie had sent him, about all those things Richie had said about filling Eddie up—he felt himself clench down on nothing, desperate to get fucked. Desperate to feel Richie’s cock so deep inside of him.

“Richie,” he whined into the kiss, pulling on Richie’s belt loops, “please.” He pressed himself urgently against Richie and rutted shamelessly against his thigh.

“Fuck, you’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?” His voice was cocky and teasing, but there was an apparent undercurrent of wonder there as well.

Eddie shoved his face into Richie’s neck and whined, grabbing onto Richie’s wrists without even knowing what his goal was. “Richie,” he whimpered, sounding pitiful and ruined already.

“What do you want, baby?” Richie’s voice made it clear that he was enjoying seeing Eddie this wrecked, and that just made Eddie even harder. “Come on, tell me, use your words.”

Eddie squirmed as Richie held him close, but still not touching him in any relieving way. “I need you inside,” Eddie said, his voice high and soft as he squirmed in Richie’s grip. “God, please, Richie, need you to fuck me. Fuck me so hard I can’t even think. Fuck me like I’m your little toy.”

Eddie could hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth, and judging by the gasp he heard Richie let out, he’d caught Richie off guard too. But if the hard bulge in his jeans that brushed up against Eddie was any indication, he was apparently just as turned on as Eddie was. Besides, Eddie knew from his blog that Richie was really into that sort of thing too—and, apparently, really into the idea of doing those things with Eddie. The realization that Richie had been saying all those filthy things about him had him grinding against him with even more fervor, kissing his neck with a heated confidence. Richie moaned, and Eddie could feel the warmth of it spreading through him. “Yeah, sweetheart? You want to feel me inside you? You think you’re ready for me?”

“Yes,” Eddie sighed, looking up at Richie with wide, desperate eyes. He shivered at the new look in Richie’s eyes, the blue nearly entirely eclipsed by how wide his pupils were. He looked hungry for Eddie; Eddie wanted to feel it. “‘M ready, Richie, please, so open for you.” He looked to the toy on his bed pointedly, but Richie only gave a deep laugh.

“Oh honey, that’s cute that you think that little thing is gonna have you ready for my cock.” Eddie’s breath caught; that toy wasn’t small. Before he could gather his scattered brain enough to react, Richie was scooping him up and tossing him on the bed, the toy falling forgotten to the floor. Richie moved Eddie onto his back, and Eddie went happily, pliantly. Richie’s fingers were cool against Eddie’s burning skin as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of Eddie’s shorts, slowly dragging them over his hips and down his legs, tossing them to the floor. Eddie’s cock was dripping with precome, his chest flushed a bright red as he squirmed under Richie’s gaze. Eddie been dreaming of Richie manhandling him like this for he didn’t even know how long; he couldn’t help the way he reacted. And he especially couldn’t help the pleased little sound he made when Richie murmured, “God, you’re gorgeous, Eds.” Then Richie was grabbing him by the ankles, gently but firmly spreading Eddie’s legs, and Eddie let out the most pathetic, genuine moan he’d ever heard. “Fuck, baby, you sound pretty. You like when I spread you open?” Richie asked. He was smirking down at Eddie, but Eddie could see how flushed he was, could see the thrilled awe in his dark, hungry eyes as Eddie nodded.

“Richie, please,” Eddie whimpered. “I need you so bad.” He sat up, reaching for Richie’s belt, but Richie easily pressed him back against the mattress with a large hand on the center of his chest. The confidence in Richie’s dominance took Eddie’s breath away, and he stayed right where he was, nice and obedient, as he watched Richie get off the bed and slowly undo his belt, then his button and zipper. He took his time dragging his jeans and boxers off, enough time to let Eddie’s eyes linger on the reveal of the dark hair under Richie’s waistband. Then Richie’s cock was bouncing up against his stomach, hard and flushed and fucking long. Eddie moaned at the sight and fisted the sheets underneath him. He wanted so badly to get his mouth on Richie, to breathe him in and be nice and good for Richie on his knees. But he was also desperate to get fucked; his hole clenched down on nothing at the thought, and then it was all he could think about again. “Richie,” he repeated, whining now as he reached for him. “Stop being such a tease.”

Richie laughed as he moved easily out of Eddie’s grip and climbed on top of him. Eddie gasped softly at the sight of Richie above him, his dark curls surrounding his face, his full, pink lips pulled into the most beautiful smile Eddie had ever seen in his life. He ran his hands over Richie’s chest and sides, marveling at the fact that this was really happening. Then, his eyes flickering down, he tentatively brought his hand to Richie’s cock.

“Oh, fuck,” they said, both at the same time, making them giggle together.

“Fuck, Eds, your pretty little hand looks so cute wrapped around my cock,” Richie teased in a low, rough voice. Eddie shivered; he couldn’t tell if Richie was praising him or degrading him, but either way it made his head fuzzy.

“‘M not that little,” Eddie grumbled out of habit. But he was clearly breathless. He’d never been good at pretending not to like Richie’s compliments, however teasing.

“Aw, but you are, baby,” Richie cooed, nuzzling his nose against Eddie’s and pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. “You’re so cute and tiny for me. I don’t even know if we’ll be able to fit my cock inside you.”

“I can,” Eddie whined, both indignant and impatient. He bucked his hips up, but Richie held him down. He gasped when he felt the warm, soft skin of Richie’s cock press against his stomach. Looking down, he saw that Richie had his cock lying on Eddie’s stomach, showing just how deep he would be once he was inside Eddie.

“You sure about that, babydoll?” While the teasing note was still there, Richie’s voice got noticeably softer as he said, “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Eddie’s chest swelled at that. Cupping Richie’s face in his hands, he insisted, “I can take it.” Then he reached down and took Richie in his hand, glowing with pride when Richie let out a low moan. “Richie, please, I want you so bad.”

“Okay, baby,” Richie agreed, turning his head to kiss Eddie’s palm. “Fuck, I want you, too.” But he stalled. “Have you ever… like, been fucked before?”

Eddie flushed. “Well, not by someone else, but I have some toys. I’m not gonna break, Richie.” He huffed, but the way Richie was looking at him soothed any ruffled feathers.

“I’m your first?” His smile was soft, and while his eyes glittered, there was nothing teasing about his tone.

“I didn’t wanna do it with anyone else,” Eddie mumbled. He tried to look away, but Richie pulled him into a kiss.

“Fuck, I never thought you’d want me,” he chuckled. “Sorry, that was depressing, I just mean I can’t believe we didn’t do this sooner, you know?”

Eddie beamed, a small, giddy giggle dancing on his lips. “Well it’ll happen sooner if you stop talking so much.” But his smile, and all of the little kisses he planted on Richie’s freckled shoulders told Richie that Eddie never wanted him to stop talking.

“Alright, alright, sheesh, I know I’m hot but you don’t gotta rush me.” Eddie was still giggling when Richie kissed him, and he could feel that Richie was smiling too. “Where’s your lube?”

Eddie stretched his hand out and patted the bed for a moment, searching. After what was probably only four seconds but felt like an eternity, he finally found the bottle and handed it eagerly to Richie. “Oh, right,” Richie smirked, “you’re already wet for me, aren’t you?” Eddie moaned as Richie swiped his fingers over Eddie’s slick hole, pressing in just a bit. His fingers went in easily, and he pumped them slowly, drawing little, breathy moans out of Eddie. Richie’s fingers were a lot longer and thicker than his own, and they felt amazing, but they weren’t what he wanted in that moment.

“Richie, fuck me,” he whined.

“Aw, no please? Again?” Richie tsked and shook his head, curling his fingers against Eddie’s prostate, making him cry out. “I told you, sweetheart, only good boys who use their manners get fucked.”

“Please,” Eddie cried. He rocked his hips and grabbed at Richie’s shoulders, at his arms, not even sure what his goal was there other than to get Richie closer, to get his attention, to show him how desperate he was. “Please fuck me, please.” He sounded pathetic begging like this, but that just made him harder. And it made Richie’s pupils even wider as he slid his fingers out of Eddie and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Good boy,” he purred. Eddie moaned and arched into Richie’s touch, but he only gave Eddie one more kiss on his cheek before pulling back and covering his cock in lube. Eddie watched, entranced, as Richie’s hand moved smoothly over his cock, glistening and slick. Then Richie was gently spreading Eddie’s legs even further and pressing the head of his cock against Eddie’s hole.

“Yes,” Eddie whimpered brokenly, grasping at the sheets beneath him. “Richie, please.” Meeting his gaze, he said softly, “I need you.”

“I’ve got you,” Richie assured him in a voice that made Eddie feel like he was glowing. Richie took Eddie’s hand in his and entwined their fingers, using his other hand to guide his cock inside of Eddie, who gasped at the feeling. God, he couldn’t believe this was happening. He couldn’t believe his first time was going to be with his favorite person. He couldn’t believe he was finally getting exactly what he wanted. Love flooded through him, warm and perfect, somehow both soothing and electrifying as he watched Richie’s face. Eddie’s mouth dropped as Richie pressed into him, deeper and deeper and still fucking deeper, until finally Richie let out a low moan and Eddie felt absolutely breathless. The stretch was intense, and he held onto Richie tightly as he caught his breath. “Are you alright?” Richie asked. His voice was strained, but the care and concern in it was clear. “You don’t have to take all of it if it’s too much.”

Eddie wanted to laugh at the remark or roll his eyes, but with how breathless and dizzied by pleasure he already was, he had to admit Richie had a point. “Just need a minute,” he gasped. Richie ran a soothing hand over Eddie’s skin, helping him even out his breathing and relax. The feeling of Richie’s cock twitching in anticipation inside of him had him letting out little moans as he adjusted, getting more and more used to the feeling until he felt comfortable enough to tell Richie he could move. Richie kissed him before he did, his lips soft against Eddie’s, a reassuring weight. Eddie breathed in sharply as Richie pulled back, grabbing at Richie’s shoulders.

Richie immediately stopped. “You okay, baby?” he asked, caressing Eddie’s face.

Eddie wanted to melt. Richie was always touching him, always jokingly flirting with him, but this unabashed concern and, well, love had previously been reserved for dire situations, like panic attacks or injuries. Eddie couldn’t help the dopey smile that bloomed on his face as he tilted his chin up and kissed Richie. “I’m okay,” he said breathlessly. “It’s just a little different from my vibrator.” They both gave a shaky laugh as Richie nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s.

“Better, I hope?” he grinned.

“Can’t tell yet,” Eddie retorted. Another snarky comment was on the tip of his tongue when Richie pulled his hips further back, effectively sucking all the air—and attitude—from Eddie’s chest. And then Richie was pushing back in, and Eddie let out a moan he couldn’t have faked if he tried, relaxing back into the mattress as his eyes fell shut. It was the best thing he’d ever felt, pleasure and relief flooding through his body. They’d been building up this tension for years; Eddie had figured it would feel good to break it, but it really felt magical, like something had just clicked into place. Feeling Richie inside of him, rocking his hips carefully, feeling Richie twitch as he tried not to lose control had Eddie’s head reeling. Eddie’s eyes fluttered open, focusing on Richie above him, on how flushed his face was. When Richie met his eye, pressing in deep, Eddie let out a small, “Fuck.”

“Yeah? Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

Richie was smirking as he said it, but there was something else sparkling in his eyes. Something giddy and awed. Something that made Eddie sigh dreamily, “I love you.”

Richie’s eyes widened for a moment before he pressed his lips firmly against Eddie’s, his hands roaming over Eddie’s body like he couldn’t choose where to put them, where to touch him. “I love you so much,” he beamed, pressing a few more kisses to Eddie’s cheeks. Eddie giggled at the feeling, but then Richie’s hips moved just a little faster, pressing him in just a little deeper, and he was back to melting under Richie’s touch, clinging to him as he rocked his hips with Richie’s. “Fuck, you’re so amazing, baby, so fucking beautiful. You look so good like this, holy shit.”

Eddie smiled almost drunkenly at Richie’s ability to ramble even when blowing Eddie’s mind. “Feels so good,” he moaned, his voice breathy and just a little bit higher than normal. He wrapped his legs around Richie’s waist. “Please, Richie, please.”

“Fuck, baby, wanna make you feel like this all the fucking time,” Richie groaned as he picked up the pace. Eddie whined in pleasure at the change, and that just spurred Richie to go faster, harder, until he was well and truly fucking Eddie, both of them moaning with every thrust.

“Oh my god,” Eddie cried, “ohmygodohmygodhmygod, oh fuck, Richie, please.” It felt so amazing, Richie fucking into him like this, but he needed that little bit more. His cock was throbbing desperately, achingly hard; he needed to feel Richie’s hand on him. “Richie, please,” he whimpered, “please, please touch me. I need you, I need you so bad, please, Richie.” Eddie was pouting now, grabbing aimlessly at Richie, his legs still wrapped tight around him.

“Fuck, you’re so hard for me,” Richie marveled, his voice sweet and condescending as he wrapped his hand around Eddie’s cock. Eddie nearly screamed at the contact, his back arching off the bed. Richie laughed a little, which just made Eddie even harder. The way Richie spread his precome over his cock, twisting his wrist just so as he stroked him had that familiar tension coiling in his lower stomach. “Aw, does that feel good? You gonna come on my cock, kitten?”

“Fuck, yes!” Eddie screamed. He gripped at the sheets as Richie stroked him, his voice washing over Eddie, mixing with the pleasure of Richie’s touch, of his thrusts. “Yes, yes, yes, please let me come, please, please, please.”

“That’s a good boy,” Richie purred, and Eddie could feel himself tipping over the edge at the words, at how low and affected Richie’s voice was. He groaned out, “Come on my cock like a good boy, princess,” and pure pleasure crashed over Eddie like a wave. He arched his back and cried out as he came, his moans filling the room as he squirmed under Richie, grabbed at him, at the sheets. It was fucking ethereal. He felt somehow so in tune with his body and yet so detached, like he was floating. He was barely cognizant of what Richie was saying, but when he put the sounds together and realized Richie had just said, panting, “Fuck, baby, gonna come,” Eddie felt like a live wire again.

“In me,” he said urgently. His mind was still a little too scattered for full sentences, but he knew what he wanted. God, he felt like he needed it. Like he needed to feel that connected to Richie. “Richie, come inside me, please.”

Richie apparently didn’t need to be told twice; he let out a moaned, “Oh, fuck,” before burying his face in Eddie’s neck, his breathy moans like music in Eddie’s ear. And then, as Eddie was coming down from his own high, he felt the holiest thing in the world: Richie’s cock, twitching inside of him, then his warm come filling Eddie up. It was unreal, being this close to him. Richie clutching at him as he came. It was even better than the little fantasies Eddie occasionally allowed himself. Richie was here, in his arms, pressing kisses to his neck as he caught his breath. Eddie was stroking his hair and rubbing his back as Richie nuzzled into him. Richie’s skin pressed against his skin, his legs wrapped around Richie’s waist, then falling to his sides, but still pressed to him. Still keeping him close. There wasn’t a single thought in his head that wasn’t about Richie.

Richie pulled him from his dreamy haze with light kisses pressed up his jaw, then over his cheeks. Eddie giggled at the onslaught of affection, still reeling from how fucking hot and euphoric what they had just done together had been. But he happily accepted Richie’s kisses, his heart bursting, then racing as Richie pulled back to look in his eyes. “Holy, fuck,” Richie beamed, his face flushed and blue eyes hooded from the weight of his orgasm, even as they sparkled.

“I know,” Eddie said, returning Richie’s grin as he basked in the surreality of having Richie on top of him, his dorky yet charming smile framed by lips that were red and swollen because of Eddie. His glasses were knocked askew, and Eddie instinctively reached up to fix them. With a sense of wonder, he realized that his touch was allowed to linger this time. He ran his fingers down Richie’s cheekbones, over his jaw, cupped his cheeks. “I love you,” he said. The words spilled out over his lips like he couldn’t stand not to say them. And while it made his heart race a little to say it out loud now that the adrenaline and tension was all worked through, it felt even better this time when Richie’s face softened and he nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s.

“I love you so fucking much.” Richie’s voice rarely got that soft, that sincere; it felt like a blanket wrapping around Eddie. It felt safe, secure. It felt like a promise. And if there was anyone in the world Eddie knew he could trust, it was Richie. That feeling of everything coming together came back to Eddie as he lay there under Richie, their lips moving together, feeling light as a feather now that everything was finally out in the open.

[alstanfordart]

Bob’s Nightmare. Scene below.

@queenoftheclownsme

@theblackrosegoddess

It awoke. Not particularly rested. Its mind had drifted. Drifted back to the Todash, leaving Its material presence hidden beneath the ground, safely stashed away in a dark crevice of the cave. As Its conscious was violently ripped back into Its avatar of Robert Gray, It could feel the wound. No healing. Something had awakened It.

Not healed. Not healed but awake prematurely.

Confused, It staggers up, focusing Its one eye, seeing only black. Hearing creaking sounds and door slamming. Unable to see a few feet in front of It with just a subtle hint of weak light from an unknown source. It begins to walk and as It does, It hears, at the edge of the darkness, children singing;

'Oranges and lemons, say the bells of St. Clement's, you owe me five farthings, say the bells of St. Martin's.'

It pauses in Its steps as It sees a flash of yellow accompanied by giggling.

A boy.

The voice of the child causes unease as another blur of yellow dashes past, before the child appears before It, partially obscured by the shadows save for emerald rain boots stark against the midnight and a speck of light in each iris.

What the Hell is this?

Little Georgie Denbrough in his slick rain coat, skin flaps dangling from his bloody stump as he slowly reveals himself as a gentle sound of thunder and rain drift out from behind him.

The boy approaches, neutral expression, standing before It.

"Why did you kill me?" Georgie asks, his round face pale, his eyes rimmed with dark circles as he gazes up. "I didn't do anything. I just wanted my boat."

Georgie holds out his hand, the paper boat sitting on his tiny fingers, blood starting to seep through and engulf the faded paper.

"It wasn't anything personal kid, I was hungry." Robert growls, lip curling up in disgust and taking a step back from this unwelcome mirage.

Like It needs to justify Itself to this brat. He is what led to Its confrontation with the hated ones. Perhaps had It targeted another child...

But maybe that would have lead to an entirely different group of children targeting It.

Maybe the Final Other intended it that way.

And that boat. That fucking boat is what started the whole mess.

It doesn't pursue this train of thought further, as it enrages It.

There's a shift in Georgie's melancholy demeanor and a creepy grin breaks out as he bends down to place his boat on a thin river of blood that has manifested, suspended a few feet above the ground.

Georgie then steps back, his form breaking apart as it evaporates upwards into the darkness as the now crimson-soaked boat starts to glide along as the singing starts up again;

'When will you pay me? Say the bells at Old Bailey. When I grow rich, say the bells at Shoreditch.'

Robert stares down at the boat as it starts to move, the blood river carrying it along. The boat's route becomes altered as the river begins to flow out, a small wave lifting it through the air. Robert's gaze follows as a red-haired woman appears amid the swirling ruby.

Beverly Marsh.

"Well, aren't you a sight," she smirks, hands perched upon her hips. "Just as bad as the time I stabbed you in the head. Couldn't sleep that one off, huh?"

The little bitch.

Snarling, quill teeth now jetting out his mouth, Robert lunges, only to have her vaporize as he goes to tear at her throat. Her disembodied laugh echoing around him. The blood river drifts off, taking the small boat along as it disappears into the gloom as a cream-colored wooden door appears. It steadily swings open, revealing a bathroom. Robert refrains from coming closer, but the room appears to envelope him, moving on its own.

The steam cloud blanketing the area barely conceals a dark-haired man slouched in a bathtub.

Stanley Uris, head lolling against his shoulder.

Spotting Robert, he sits up as he holds out his wrists, thin slashes appearing and dripping, inking the bath water red and dotting the white porcelain.

"I got to grow up at least." he says.

Robert gives a contemptuous scoff. "You did that to yourself."

"After you came to me." Stan retorts, lowering his arms slowly, staring blankly at Robert, a little half-smile just barely showing. Robert quickly retreats, slamming the door as it dissolves in a puff of thin smoke.

It is growing increasingly uncomfortable. Anxious. It must get out of here, whatever this is.

A dream. A nightmare.

Limbo? Had It been killed while slumbering?

Robert's head darts around as he searches the area, strange clanking sounds and echos vibrate in the distance coupled with a growing forest of giggling children's voices and the baaing of sheep.

'When will that be? Say the bells of Stepney. I do not know, says the great bell at Bow.'

Mike Hanlon comes forth, holding up a photo album. Opening it, there are various photographs of black birds.

"We're all afraid of something-even you." he says as the birds come to life and begin to flap their wings and squawk, emerging from the album's pages in droves, growing larger in size as they fly at Robert, pecking at him, their beady eyes glowing yellow. He ducks down and swats at them, growling as Mike fades into the dark.

As the birds swoop away, another familiar male voice appears.

"What's up clown man!" Richie Tozier jumps out, bat in hands as Robert, startled, stumbles backwards.

Ugh, of all the Losers, It had hated this one the most. The insulting little shit.

Richie continues to swing the bat, the wood making audible swooshing sounds that cut through the air.

Roaring, Robert grabs at the weapon, only to have his hands pass through it, tumbling forward as Richie cackles.

"Hey, no! Sorry no cigar! You know this place is worse than that crack house." he says, as he pauses to adjust his glasses.

Another final voice, immediately recognizable.

"He thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts, he thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts."

Bill Denbrough steps forth from the tenebrosity, the boat pinched between his fingers.

"You're not real. None of you are. Old age took you back to the weeds long ago." Robert says glaring at him, his one iris starting to spark as Bill approaches.

Save for Mike. All are gone.

Bill smirks. "We're not real enough for you?" he replies, chuckling as an inhaler rolls out beside his feet. Eddie Kaspbrak reaches down to pluck it up, standing alongside Bill.

Raising it to his lips, he halts. "I actually don't need this anymore." Eddie says as he chucks it casually over his shoulder.

Richie moves to stand by them along with Mike and Beverly, with Georgie close behind, followed by Ben Hanscom, who holds up a piece of a large eggshell, black and shiny. Robert's expression drops at the sight, an angry grimace exposing his razor incisors.

Stanley Uris suddenly joins them, that same barely-smile still there. Almost mocking.

Robert glances around at his former adversaries.

"You should have stayed out of it. All of you, had you just kept to your business, let me have what I wanted, Stan and Eds would have lived longer, happier lives. I would have been nothing more than fragments of a forgotten dream. Amnesia is a kindness."

"We forgot, but you haven't forgotten us," Mike offers. "Have you?"

"We're still here," Bill adds, tapping the tip of the paper boat against his temple. "Can't escape that."

The eight are now bordering around him, with more emerging from behind: Candice Swain, Veronica Dell, the drunk Samuel, Colin and Hank Dobson, Esther, Noah Brady, the Muncy family, Julie, the hateful redhead Heather Taggart, Brandon Wilkes, Emily and her mother and the rest of the newest souls he'd claimed on this planet as well as his victims from Derry; the boys from the tunnel, Derek Stuart and James, Henry Bowers, Patrick Hockstetter decked out in his cartoon cat shirt, features chewed, the other two punks from the Bower's gang whose names he couldn't be bothered to remember, their necks bloodied, ripped open. Betty Ripsom, little Victoria, Adrian Mellon and the faces of endless Derry children and adults, some recognizable, some barely a hint of familiarity, many just a passing blip on his existence like pretty Martha and naive Alison. Many he'd used and killed like Tom Rogan, some that survived his Deadlights like Audra Denbrough.

As well as the unfortunate wife of the true Robert Gray, Agnes and their daughter Emma. Scowling and hateful.

Decades upon decades of victims. Many missing limbs, their eyeballs gouged out, blood bubbling from their mouths.

"Why'd you kill me?"

"You ripped my legs off and left my body in a ditch."

"You ate my baby. My only son."

"My father died from a broken heart after I went missing."

"They only found my head with no eyes."

Whispering, talking, with some laughing menacingly, all tinted in dull green-blue as the numbers begin to grow as more appear behind them.

Then a few clear a path, allowing another achingly familiar figure to step into the bleak light.

Mirasal.

She moves to stand before him, bringing her arms up to scissor them across her chest, she gives him a somber scowl.

Robert lowers himself to his knees, keeping his gaze locked with hers as resentment and hatred glimmer within her cerulean disks.

"What was that you told me? That I could trust you?" she says, giving a repulsed head shake.

No. This is not her. Remember that. None of this is real.

Just a dream. It's not real.

Robert hangs his head in his hands. "I don't want to hurt you." he mutters into his palms, his face shooting up at the sound of her chuckling derisively.

"Like I would believe you, you even thought about killing me," she replies. "Or perhaps give me a little scare."

With that, she leaps forward, her mouth unhinging, the blue eyes switching to ebony as she comes at him with her claws out. Robert winces back, covering his face, ducking his head down, only to feel nothing. He gingerly peeks out from beneath his fingers.

She's vanished. But the others, their irises blacking out to mimic that same appearance, still remain. All begin to draw closer, the Loser's Club at the forefront, their hands growing paler, some stained with blood splatter, grabbing at him as they close in, swaying back and forth, becoming more zombie-like.

"Get away from me," Robert rapidly stands, whirling around, panic gripping him as he growls, his one intact pupil now burning bright. "Get away."

"We all float down here, Robert. Float with us. Float with us. " they all cantillate in unison. "Float with us."

"No, no. Leave me alone." Robert drops back down to the ground, cowering, shielding himself from their increasingly grotesque faces, their features shriveling up and dropping to the ground. Their cackles resounding through his skull, magnified.

"You'll float too! You'll float too! You'll float too!"

"No!" Robert shouts, covering his ears as the area begins to spin, the faces around him now blending together. "No! No! No! Please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Their laughing abruptly ceases, their fingers no longer grabbing and prodding at him, and all is quiet save for the angelic crooning beginning to rise again;

'Here comes a candle to light you to bed.'

Robert follows the source, coming into view of a tall lithe figure, its slouching back facing him, standing in the center of a circle of light. The air above has red balloons hovering, completely still as Robert approaches, pausing every other step as the being becomes more visible, its ruffled off-white costume beginning to twitch as it turns to face him, bells jingling.

Robert stands facing his favorite form as it gives an empty grin.

What?

"Here comes a candle to light you to bed." Pennywise says as he reaches his elongated gloved fingers to grip the nape of Robert's neck. His eyes are two empty sockets, devoid of any color, his teeth yellowed needles as he brings his ghostly features closer, smooth, almost as if they were set in porcelain. Without warning he slams Robert to the ground, the strings of the balloons suspended above gently blow in response as he straddles him.

"Time to pay the piper, ol' Bob Gray," Pennywise intones as he lowers his teeth, only an inch from Robert's visage of both fear and confusion, the dripping saliva strings cold against his skin. Pennywise traces a bony finger along Robert's nose. "And here comes a chopper to chop off your head! Chip chop chip chop, the last man is dead!" he starts to maniacally cackle.

Squeezing his lids, Robert lets out a roar, fighting to free himself, thrashing beneath his double.

And just like that, the clown and the balloons are gone.

[haderpjs]

Eddie lives.

But Richie at the beginning isn’t allowed to see him, (no one is, obviously, he’s under surgery) the losers try to take him to the Town House so he can sleep and change his filthy clothes, they try, more than once each, until Richie finally agrees.

Eddie had more than one surgery, Richie wasn’t paying so much attention to what the doctors were saying to them. All the things they had to do to save Eddie's life sounded numb and far away because he was occupied thinking on how he might be so close to losing Eddie a g a i n, after just having got him back.

Now clean and rested (not really he couldn’t sleep more than two hours because he made the mistake of entering to Eddie’s room and see the blood all over the bathroom floor) he is finally allowed to see Eddie, it’s been almost 10 hours since they first brought Eddie to the hospital. It hurts to see his dearest friend all pale and weak and tied to diverse devices and machines but it’s a million times better than what he saw in the deadlights.

They stay all the hours the doctors allow them to, when the night comes he’s the only one who doesn’t go back to the Town House. He stays besides Eddie because he is afraid of leaving his friend alone, he is afraid of Edie dying even when the doctors said he was in no danger anymore, he can’t leave Eddie, he can’t lose him after he just got him back, -you don’t ‘got him’ don’t be stupid, he is married and you know it- he tells himself.

Richie sits on the chair besides Eddie’s bed, since the bed is taller he can rest his head on the mattress. He knows he should put his glasses on the table but he finds himself being comfortably at peace por once since he arrived to Derry and he might not want to fall asleep but he is so tired, without realizing or thinking much about it his body is already reaching out for Eddie’s, Richie holds his friend’s hand and lets the [beep beep beep] of the heart rate monitor drift him to sleep, -it’s practically the sound of Eddie’s heart- he tinks and sure it isn’t the most comfortable position but he won’t let go of Eddie’s hand.

He wakes up in the middle of the night all startled and alarmed, he adjusts his crooked glasses and once his eyes adjust to the darkness of the room and then he can see how the dim glow from outside lightens Eddie’s facial features, Richie feels like crying for the nth time since he woke up from the deadlights. And jus now he had dreamed what he saw in those fucking magic demonic lights.

‘‘Hey Eds, you ...  you have to wake up man’‘ his voice is barely a whisper

[beep beep beep]

‘‘Not like, right now I know you’re on a lot of drugs and very weak from the surgeries but-huh’‘ he whimpers and tries to calm himself

-Of couse Eddie will wake up, we killed that fucking demonic clown, we won, and we remember each other and we’ll not forget this time!-

‘‘y’know you’re the strongest person I know right?, and you’re so brave Eds, I hope you know I meant what I said down there in the sewers, you are braver than you believe you are’‘

-Eddie will wake up and I’ll tell him how brave he is to his face until he believes it-

‘‘But you’re an Idiot too’‘ he can’t contain the little giggle that escapes his mouth

‘‘Why did you save me?’‘ he asks to the unconscious man lying in fron of him

[beep beep beep]

-It should’ve been me- that thought is been in Richie’s head since they were draggind Eddie outside from neitbolt.

He was the one with the stupid trashmouth that got himself in the deadlights and he probably should have died with his brains fried or whatever. It sucked that Eddie had to rescue him only to nearly die impaled. If Richie just hadn’t acted stupidily. But he knows Eddie did it because they are best friends, the same way Eddie would have done it for Bill or any other of the losers, Richie also knows he would have done the same thing, bitch he did what he did because Mike was about to die and even if it wasn’t the most smart thing to do he’d do that again just so Mike or any other of his friends wouldn't die.

[beep beep beep]

‘‘Why did that fucking clown had to hurt you?’‘ He lets out a sob and burries his head on the space between Eddie’s arm and the right side of his torso

-to hurt me, It did it because he knew my secret, always knew and It did it in front of my eyes, because he knew my dirty little secret because It knew one of my biggest fears is losing you-

Sure the moment pennywise died Eddie’s bleeding had stopped and when they put Eddie in the ambulance Richie is sure the hole in his chest wasn't as big as pennywise claw must’ve first pierced through Eddie’s chest, but Eddie still lost plenty blood and the internal damage still was there. He wishes Eddie’s injury had dissapeared the moment they killed that demonic clown.

‘‘I know you’re out of danger now but you didn’t deserve this, you didn’t have to, for ANY reason, especially not for me’‘

[beep beep beep]

He hated himself for being the cause Eddie was now lying almost lifeless on a hospital bed, with a big-ass scar on his chest and back, not to mention who knows how many months of physical therapy ahead of him.

‘‘Eds, I am so happy you’re alive, umm I thought-’’ he whimpers

‘’I thought I had lost you, when we were dragging you out and you wouldnt wake up, I held your almost lifeless body on my arms and it felt fucking horrible’‘ a deep breath escapes his mouth

[beep beep beep]

‘‘it felt like my life was being drawn away from me’‘ he lifts his hands and presses his palms under his glasses against his eyelids

[beep beep beep]

The only sound in the room was Richie’s pained voice and the constant [beep beep beep] of the machine, not that he was expecting Eddie to wake up and reply, but he was so used to Eddie always replying to him, most of the times some annoyed comebacks because of Richie’s jokes about Mrs. K, sometimes just Eddie’s giggles at Richie’s most stupid jokes, and the good ones too.

‘‘Because since the moment I remembered you, I felt like the most alive person on earth’‘

[beep beep beep]

‘‘I didn't know I missed you so much until I saw you’‘

[beep beep beep]

‘‘The void in my heart took your form after my brain reclaimed your name’

[beep beep beep] ‘

‘‘I want you in my life forever’‘ -and the rest of the losers of course-

[beep beep beep]

‘‘i don’t think I can make it another 27 years without your- friendship being a constan in my life’‘

[beep beep beep] 

Richie thinks about confessing his feeling to Eddie, since well... Eddie wasn’t really listening and also, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever had the guts to do it when Eddie was actually listening, and if he ever dared to tell him how he felt, well... Eddie was married anyway and he had a life in NY, Richie would have to conform with Eddie’s friendship.

Eventually Richie fell asleep again, he didn’t dreamed about Eddie’s death this time, he dreamed they were fifteen again and they were on the hammock reading comics and annoying the shit out of each other. Until an ugly whiny voice woke him up.

‘‘[I AM HIS WIFE and I have all the right to see him!]’‘

Richie could see the shadow on the closed curtains of the window that a nurse was standing between the door and a woman, blocking her way in.

‘‘[Mrs. Kaspbrak I understand you are concerned about your husband but I already told you he is stable and these are not visit hours]’‘

-SHITSHITSHITSHIT EDDIE’S WIFE IS HERE-

Richie stood up from the chair and started pacing the room, he had stayed past visit hours and he wasn't supposed to, but since the nurse that came last night into the room to check Eddie’s vitals didn’t say a word he supposed it wouldn’t be a problem if he slept there.

Now he had no way of sneaking out of the room and they were going to find him in there and honestly, he didn’t care if the doctors disapproved his actions, he didn't want to see Eddie’s wife, but he didn’t want to leave Eddie’s side just so Mrs. Kaspbrak would take his place

-It is NOT your place! stop it!!!-

‘‘FFFFUCK’‘ he muttered

‘‘[... else do you need me to sign?, I am going to demand this hospital if you refuse to let me see my husband]’‘

‘’fuck Eds she really is Sonia 2.0, Jesus man what did you got yourself into?’‘ Richie whispered towards Eddie

‘‘[... and sorry I don’t mean to be rude, I am just very *hiccups* very worried abut my husband and i just need to see him, I haven't seen him since he left three days ago, pleease even if it’s just 5 minutes I need to see him!, you can’t imagine the pain I was in when i found out he!- *wimpers*]’‘

Richie reaches out for Eddie’s hand and sqeezes it, Eddie looks so peaceful now and he really can't hold himself out, he leans down and pressed a kiss to Eddie's forehead.

He was just leaning back up when the door opened

‘‘You can stay but when the Doctor comes in for the routinely check-ups you'll have to leave, that gives you about 20 minutes-’‘ the nurse stopps when she sees Richie standing beside Eddie’s bed.

‘‘Oh!, I didn't thought-’‘ anyone would be here

‘‘No i was just le-’‘ Richie doesn’t finish because Myra interrupts him, walking towards Eddie’s bed while observing Richie’s being very meticulously

‘’WHO ARE YOU?’’ Myra demands looking at Richie now with a flash of disgust on her face

Richie doen’t like how demanding she sounds, and he certainly doesnt like how she’s looking at him, he feels vulnerable and he feels exposed like he just got caught doing something that he isn't supposed to, allowed to. He hates it.

‘’No one, I am leaving’‘ He answers almost very apathetic and walks down past them towards the door. Hands on his pockets and head slightly facing down

‘‘are you one of Eddie’s friends?. He said he came to visit some friends, were you with him when this happened to him?’‘

He stops in the door frame but doesn't turn to face her

‘‘Yeah’‘... -yes I was there and I didn’t do enough to keep him from being hurt, yes it’s my fault he’s there ... -

Richie leaves the room.

[unpack-my-heart]

i am no bird (no net ensnares me)

The first time Eddie decided to leave for the bright lights of the big city, it was a rainy Tuesday afternoon in January and he’d been drunk on a fermenting promise to himself that was becoming slippery. So slippery was this promise that at any moment he feared he’d drop it, and it would splatter on the floor, messy and irrecoverable. He was nineteen years old; old enough to know better but young enough that his hare-brained decisions could be written off as the recklessness of a youth not yet over. When he’d told the others that he was planning to leave, with the phone crackling wildly under the strain of their seven way conversation, they had all whooped loudly, cheering a victory that he hadn’t yet won.

“I knew this would be the year you’d leave, Eds! I could feel it in my dick”

Fucking gross.

After he’d chewed Richie out for being crude, faux-annoyance honeying his words, he’d remained silent for a very long time, listening to the others trip and stumble over each other, babbling about how good emancipation felt, how the air had never tasted as sweet as it had the day they’d left, the day they’d left Derry and never looked back.

He’d planned to leave, had always meant to leave, had gotten as far as idly scrolling through flight schedules late at night, the moon watching him with her soft, sceptical gaze, but something held him back. The invisible red tether that cut deep welts into his heart tightened viciously whenever the thought of leaving fluttered through his brain, butterfly smooth.  His mother tugged on the tether, and reminded Eddie that his wings had been clipped a long time ago.

When Richie left Derry, nearly two years ago, Eddie hadn’t cried. Dry-eyed, face bright and free from tear-tracks, he’d rubbed soothing circles into Richie’s back as Richie cried, great heaving sobs that dampened Eddie’s almost-scratchy jersey sweater. He’d cried on Eddie’s shoulder for eons of time that they didn’t have, until Richie’s phone began to buzz fiercely. Eddie’s eyes remained firmly, petulantly dry. They’d remained dry when Richie told him, in a voice thick with sorrow, that out of all the Losers, out of all the people he’d ever met and even the people he hadn’t, that his Eds was his favourite. Eddie’s eyes remained dry when he watched Richie shove his guitars and the half-broken metal box full of old mixtapes into his half-broken old car that wheezed almost as much as Eddie did. The car sagged under the weight of Richie’s entire life, with no room for Eddie to clamber in, to mould himself around the suitcases. Eddie’s eyes remained dry as he watched Richie drive mouse-slow out of the driveway, and they’d remained dry when Richie shouted out of the window,

“I’ll never forget you, Eds! Not ever! I’ll always remember you and those fucking shorts!”

Those shorts remained folded away in the back of his wardrobe, unworn, unloved, almost-forgotten.

Eddie didn’t leave.

The second time Eddie decided to leave for the bright lights of the big city, he was twenty-four years old, and working full time at the pharmacy that he’d spent so many wasted hours in over the years, queueing up dutifully, waiting for the prescription to be filled, jittering from foot to foot, as if the verruca cream piled haphazardly on the shelf to his left would leap at him. He’d hop from foot to foot, wondering whether these pills would stop the bruising of his heart, or the mocking voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like his own, “you’re cracked you’re damaged you’re ruined”. So many years and so many sugar pills, enough to turn his stomach and make his teeth itch.

The pharmacy was much the same as it ever was, a stagnant pool suspended in the centre of the roaring sea. Aisles of cough syrup and dandruff shampoo bracketed the counter, and Eddie spent his days drumming his fingers on the counter, each pound of each pad against the dull white surface a declaration, a plea.

“You’re never going to leave if you don’t do it now. Rip the band-aid off, Eds, and stop being such a fucking pussy!”

Richie was right in that very frustrating way that Richie was always, always, right, especially when it came to Eddie and his pathological tendency to self-sabotage himself into oblivion. Rather than cradle his life in both of his hands, a fragile little thing that needed nurturing, Eddie had instead condemned it to a solemn existence of apathy and a pretentious sort of melancholy, all the while staring at the little white pills that he’d taken for so long; the little white pills that took the pain away only until they didn’t anymore, lined up neatly in their piss-coloured plastic bottles on the shelves of the pharmacy.

He’d packed his bags with all the gusto he could manage that evening shoving t-shirts and pressed, crisp chinos into an old, dusty rucksack with wild abandon, until he stopped. He stopped, and stared at the bag, really stared at it, and dropped the sweatshirt he’d been holding to the floor. He hadn’t packed his favourite books, the movie ticket stubs he’d saved from when Richie took hilton see the new Star Wars and Eddie had complained bitterly about how ridiculous it was until he’d annoyed Richie so much that he’d been dragged forcefully from the theatre, and they’d gone for burgers instead. There was no room for his favourite shoes, the sweater with the holes in it that Bev had leant him when he was cold and then given to him because the dull purple made the green in his eyes shine brightly, a freshly cut lawn on a summer morning.

Eddie emptied the contents of the bag onto the floor, and stepped over it. Tomorrow, he assured himself, tomorrow he’d leave. Tomorrow.

Eddie didn’t leave.

The third time Eddie decided to leave for the bright lights of the big city, he was thirty-three years old and couldn’t remember why California called his name so loudly, why its siren call echoed across the country, fingers beckoning, seducing. California, a nihilistic melting pot of overworked and underpaid wage slaves who bowed to the corporate bell and submitted themselves to the scrutinizing eye of the Silicon Valley start-ups. That’s what his mother had told him when she’d loomed over his shoulder, pin-ball eyes scanning the screen of his computer. There was nothing there for Eddie, a pharmacist with two degrees under his belt but no actual understanding of how the world worked beyond the safe confines of his small town existence. Highways, supermarkets with more than ten aisles, electric cars, save the turtles, sandals in winter and heatstroke in summer, sweat on your upper lip and tan lines on your knees. California.

His phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Is this Eds? Eds Kaspbrak?”

“Don’t call me that! Uh … Who is this?”

“It’s … Rich. Richie?”

A question, not a statement, as if the caller is asking, is that okay? Is it okay that this is Richie?

“Richie? Richie who?”

A pause that stretches like tar, sticky and black.

“Oh shit!”

Remembrance slammed into Eddie, sucker-punch strong. He remembered a tangled mop of dark brown hair, often flecked with paint. He remembered bucked teeth and freckles that skated across skin like grains of sand tossed up in wind. He remembered the lisp, and the gangly limbs that hung awkwardly, octopus limbs that were too long, too grabby, too energetic.

“Richie fucking Tozier!”

“The very same, Eds. Gotta be honest, I was sort of hoping you wouldn’t pick up, that some housewife would answer all, ‘he doesn’t live here anymore’, but … here you are.”

“Here I am.”

“Still there.”

“Still here,” Eddie confirmed, and his gut trembled with the sort of embarrassment that hung in the air low and heavy, like smoke. Like smog.

“I’m in California,” Richie says eventually, “got a sweet little place on the oceanfront, if you ever … y’know …”

Oh. There it is. The static that had been buzzing around Eddie’s brain when he thought of California, the angry bees that stung him for not remembering finally subdued, finally dropped down dead, because Richie was on the other end of the phone, still lisping, voice a little deeper, a little hoarser, a few too many cigarettes and not enough sleep, perhaps, but he was there, and Eddie had remembered.

“Ocean front, you say?”

The most reckless thing Eddie had done before this was leave the house during a torrential rainstorm with only a showerproof coat, knowing full well that the long fingers of Flu would be tapping at his arms in the morning. Now, here he was, sitting in a tacky sea-food restaurant, pushing prawns around on his plate, with someone he hasn’t seen for over a decade, and he’s drunk. Not too drunk, he can still see without his vision blurring, can still count all of the wrinkles that texture the canvas of Richie’s face, and the freckles. He’s not too drunk to wonder whether these are new freckles, or whether these are the same freckles that he used to stare at when they were lying in the quarry, shirts off and chests to the sky, sunning themselves like heat-starved lizards.

Nevertheless, here he is, Richie Tozier, stuffing paella into his face with one hand and waving wildly in the air with the other as he talks through bites of rice.

“Do you remember when you got kicked out of band?”

Richie groans, wounded.

“Don’t fucking remind me, I was scrubbing the deck for weeks after that old trout rang my mother. Real pissed she was, insisted that trombones are certainly not supposed to be used for such nefarious activities. I still think she shoulda’ been more adventurous”

“I’ll never forget the look on her face, Rich, she was so ready to beat the absolute living shit out of you!” Eddie brayed, stray pieces of pasta escaping his mouth as he spoke, disgusting, but in the dim light of the restaurant, Eddie didn’t care.

The wind whipped at Eddie’s face when they staggered out of the restaurant three hours and ninety dollars later, and Richie grabbed at Edide’s chin roughly.

“You never left, did you?”

“You know I fuckin’ didn’t”

“I shouldn’t have left without you, I never should have left you there.”

Eddie pushed at Richie, gentle enough not to hurt but with enough force that Richie staggered backwards. “It wouldn’t have made a difference. I’ve grown roots, Rich. I’m … I’m stuck there, like one of those plants that hibernates over winter but blooms in summer. I would have dragged you down with me.”

Richie readjusted his grip on Eddie’s chin, and tipped Eddie’s head up. Their eyes met.

“I nearly kissed you when I left, you know.” Richie said. “I really nearly did, got this close, but you looked so …”

“So what?”

“Fine. You looked fine. You didn’t even cry.”

Eddie blinked. “I cried every day for a month after you left. Then every other day for at least six after that. I cried so much my mother sent me to the fucking doctor because she thought I had hysteria.”

Richie barked out a laugh, a sad wet noise that sounded more like a sob. “I left you.”

Eddie pushed his face up, out of Richie’s grip, and pushed his lips against Richie’s trembling ones. The kiss is small, timid and Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie’s shoulder and clung, limpet-like.

It doesn’t last. Richie’s crying too much.

The next day, Eddie leaves.

The fourth time Eddie decided to leave for the bright lights of the big city, he leaves, and never looks back.

(this has been sat in my drafts since early March.)

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Bearable | A Reddie Fanfiction

Read it from the beginning

Chapter 6

Eddie was bored. Like, really bored. Both his health studies and his history class had been slow, more introductions than actual work, which was total bullshit. With no homework, no studying, Eddie was lost. He didn't have many hobbies thanks to the cage his mother had forced him into (pencil lead will poison you Eddie-bear no drawing and also skateboards are death traps and you'll stab your eye out with a knitting needle oh dear oh no) so he really had nothing to do. He was sat on the sofa with his eyes trained on the TV though he hardly registered the news channel playing, foretelling the Tuesday weather. Bill was on the other end of the couch, the soft sounds of his pastels gliding across thick paper just barely heard over the Anchorwoman voice of Cindy Williams. If he were back in Derry, Eddie would most likely be down in the barrens, sitting with three jackets and a scarf (even though it wasn't that cold just yet) on the banks of the Kenduskeag with Stan and Bill at his sides. Maybe they would be playing go-fish or maybe they'd have brought down Eddie's Parcheesi board or maybe they'd just be talking and talking and talking about God-knows-what. With the third of their party, Stan, at work for the evening neither Bill nor Eddie felt adventurous enough to bother going out and wandering the streets of Portland in search of something to do. The rain had yet to return, the sun from the day prior still holding strong, but despite the warmth that was promised Eddie would rather just stay inside and wallow. A sudden, too-loud beeping sound erupted form Eddie's left pocket, making both him and Bill simultaneously leap right out of their skin. Eddie actually let out a shout, his heart soaring into the air and then plummeting all at once. It was just his phone. His phone was just ringing. He didn't need to freak out. Jesus.

"Sorry-" He apologized quickly to Bill, shooting him an irritated glance and pulling his phone from his pocket. Leaping to his feet (he didn't want to disturb Bill any longer, since he had already pulled him from his drawing trance) he hurried away towards his room, slipping past his door and answering his call, finally silencing that infuriating Nokia ringtone. It had always gotten on his nerves. "Hello, this is Eddie Kaspbrak?"

"Why didn't you call me?" Eddie went rigid, stiff as a board, the voice in his ear the last one he currently wanted to be hearing- why didn't he check the number before picking up? Shit, he thinks to himself, and then immediately worries that he might have spoken that aloud- it was his mother, contacting him for the first time since he was swept away by his two best friends. "I was worried for you, Eddie-bear. Why didn't you call me?" Sonia's tone is weird, off-sounding, and Eddie can detect a multitude of different emotions both fake and real even through the crackly distorting of his speaker.

"Mommy, I- I'm sorry, I totally forgot," It's difficult to find any words right now. How had Eddie forgotten to call his mother? She and Derry, home, had been on his mind so frequently that it was genuinely astonishing that he hadn't thought to call her. Of course, he didn't want to call her, he was terrified of what she'd say to him on the subject of his schooling, his 'running away', but- how had the thought never once crossed his mind? "With school starting and trying to get used to everything here I've been really busy and-"

"Are you being worked too hard over there? What time are you waking up? Going to sleep? It's probably cold over there today, you'd better be wearing your jacket," His mother's voice washed him with a feeling of illness. Instead of listening to her words, her senseless pestering, he tried to pick apart what feelings shone through he words. Those jumbled tones, all different, were confusing. Eddie managed to pick out the sickly-sweet tone that Sonia often adopted when she was covering up her rage or her hurt or discomfort- it was the tone that promised a silent terror, a silent wrath. If he had to compare that voice to anything else in the world it would be like the moment before a tiger pounces and tears you limb from limb. Despite her efforts to hide it, her anger shone through nonetheless, sending a shiver down Eddie's spine. Sonia Kaspbrak was furious. "-Home again and then everything will be alright, won't it Eddie? It'll be just fine again and I can-" The phone erupted into ringing once more. Eddie winced, ripping the device away from his ear as the little Nokia chime blew out his right eardrum.

"Mommy, mom- I'm getting another call, please just give me a moment-"

"Don't put me on hold, Eddie! Don't you dare put me on-" Eddie put her on hold. He let out a huff as her voice finally went silent and another one took it's place. To say the least, this one was no more pleasant.

"Hey, Eduardo! Nice of you to answer!" Richie was loud, too loud, but Eddie put up with it because at least he wasn't Sonia.

"What do you want, Richie?" His words came out clipped, snappy- significantly more rude than he had meant, which is a surprise, because he did mean to be a little rude. He grimaced at his own voice and could basically see Richie's confusion on the other end.

"Woah there, Eds, what's gotten your panties in a twist? Doesn't matter- I have a proposal to make."

"I- Richie, sorry, now isn't the best time I have another call on the line-"

"Today is our weekly 'Taco Tuesday', but Mike and Ben both got called into work last minute. It's just me, Bev, and wayyyy more tacos than any person can safely eat." Eddie hadn't noticed he had begun to pace. He didn't want to hang up on Richie, but the burning anxiety bubbling like boiling lava in his stomach was direly unpleasant and spreading by the second. His mother would be pissed. "I know Stan the Man's got work today, but why don't you and Bill swing by for dinner and a movie? It can be our first date, what do you say?" Though his tone was teasing, Eddie's face went red. He began to pace quicker- he wouldn't be surprised if he burned holes right into the carpet.

"Yeah- sure- whatever- I have to go, Richie," The quickest way out of this conversation was to agree, and so Eddie did just that, without really thinking it through. He could stomach a night at Richie's, especially if Bill and Bev were there. Beverly was nice, and Eddie wouldn't mind getting to know her better.

"Aha, that's a yes Bevvie! I told you they'd wanna come! Alright, you know the address, be here whenever, we don't have any pla-" Eddie jammed his thumb down onto the 'hang-up' button and then his mom was on the other end again.

"Sorry, I'm back," Eddie's heart was thumping unnaturally fast. His asthma inhaler was on his vanity, only two steps away, but he couldn't use it or else who knows what his mother would do and say. He wouldn't be surprised if she came speeding all the way to Portland. "What were you saying?"

"Who was that, Eddie-bear? You were gone for so long I thought you might have hung up on me or something!" A retort on the tip of his tongue, Eddie swallowed his annoyance- after all, he was only gone for about thirty seconds- and put on his own false voice.

"It was just a telemarketer, mommy, it's alright. Sorry for making you wait, but I do have to go now. I need to eat dinner." That was a general truth. Sonia didn't need to know what he was having for dinner, just that he was having it. She would lose her mind over tacos- too fatty, the shells can hurt your teeth, cut your gums, you have delicate gums Eddie- and so it was best not to tell her at all.

"Oh Eddie, I miss you so much! Please, please call me and maybe we can organize a visit? Maybe I can come over and say hello? You can show me your school?" 'Show me your school' was code for 'Let me point out every dangerous little thing so that you have a panic attack and have to come home'. "I love you, Eddie-bear, I love you so so so so so-"

"I love you too mom, I have to go. I'll call. Bye." The call was ended. It was almost as if a weight was lifted off of Eddie's shoulders. He staggered over to his desk, picking up his inhaler and staring down at it. It looked foreign in his hands, dangerous, maybe- but heavenly at the same time. Eddie would have taken a puff if it weren't for Bill's footsteps approaching his doorway. He dropped the device quickly, spinning to the door just as Bill pushed it open, peeking his head inside and offering Eddie a small, tentative smile.

"That was your muh-mother?" He asked, pushing the door the rest of the way open and letting the golden hallway light shine through, banishing the growing sundown shadows, "Is everything oh-okay? Are you okay?" Eddie smiled- the expression was fake, but boy was Eddie good at pulling off fakes.

"Yeah, I'm- I'm great. It was my mom, and Richie, too- He wants us to come over for tacos or something. I don't really know, I was hardly listening. Beverly's there, I think, but Ben and Mike are at work." Bill's own smile grew into something more genuine, less frightened. He nodded his head.

"That sounds gr-great, actually. I'm stu-starving." Eddie let the anxiety from the call with his mother wash away.

-----

"Heya, Big Bill! And Eds, too, just swell- come in, come in!" Pulling his door wide open, Richie swept out an arm, "Welcome to my humble abode! Take a look around, make yourselves comfortable- it's a pretty nice place when it isn't crawling with teens." Bill and Eddie stepped through the threshold, into Richie's apartment. Richie noted with a burst of pride the way his guests both ogled, their gazes raking across the space they'd stepped out into.

To their immediate right sat a modern/retro kitchen, an odd mixture of sleek black marble and sickeningly bright reds, oranges and yellows. There was a massive green fridge covered nearly top to bottom in different papers, school tests and flyers and sketches of clothing and poems and- God, who knows?- all locked in place by random magnets picked out of gift shops and shopping centers and delivered as gifts. The kitchen was bordered off by a peninsula, three red bar stools, one of which was an entirely different shape and brand, seated at it's side. There was a fruit bowl on the counter though it held no fruit- instead it was filled with different CD cases from all the big rock bands and even some smaller ones that hardly anybody ever heard of. Other than the fruit bowl there were also takeout boxes, lots of them, containing the tacos and other miscellaneous snacks Richie had ordered for dinner.

Past the kitchen sat the living room, and it was just as chaotic. The couch was nice, a simple grey with a detached ottoman of the same colour. On top of that couch was a multitude of different pillows and cushions- one was blue, another green, just normal squares, but then there were also the stranger pillows like one shaped to be an electric guitar and another taking the form of an octopus with long, dangling legs- as well as too many knitted blankets to count thrown over the backrest. A rug sat across the floor, swirling, psychedelic, red, brown, orange. The regular lights were off and instead the golden glow of the setting sun cast the room alight. All over the walls were different posters for movies and bands- there were even some records hung about. If Richie had to use one word to describe his home, that word would be 'radical'.

"Hey, guys," Bev waved from her spot on a bean bag chair sandwiched between the couch and the huge, yawning, nearly floor-to-ceiling window on the far end of the room, "You're finally here, Jesus I'm starved! Richie made me wait for you two before eating," She climbed to her feet, her mass of scarlet hair tied behind her head with a pale pink scrunchie. Richie just rolled his eyes, crossing to those red bar stools and letting himself fall down into one with a dramatic huff directed at Beverly.

"Suh-sorry we took so long," Bill said with a grin, apologetic and sincere just like his smiles always were, "We got a l-little caught up." Richie didn't fail to notice the way that Eddie wrapped his arms around himself, looking like he might shrink into the earth. Why?- Richie couldn't be sure- but the boy didn't look comfortable in the slightest and something about that put his stomach in a knot. Without even realizing it, Richie found himself taking on a silent mission- make Eddie laugh, genuinely, at least one time tonight.

"No problemo, my good friends! Take a seat, take a seat- Bev can stand," Richie grinned, a toothy smile screaming mischief and teasing- Beverly didn't waste a single moment before ramming her fist against his shoulder, effectively threatening him out of his chair and leaving it free for her to take instead. "Oi!" Richie hunched his shoulders, screwing up his face to the best of his abilities. Snatching up a plastic butter knife, he pointed it at his friend, taking on a New Yorker's accent, becoming a character that was still in the works- Wyatt, the Homicidal Bag-Boy, "You put those doi'ty paws nea' me again an' I'll cut 'em 'ight off an' bake 'em in this weeks bread!"

"I haven't heard that character before," Eddie said, mostly to himself, but he shot a glance in Richie's direction and almost looked something near impressed.

"Hu-how do you do it? How do you swi-switch between these Voices so e-easily?" Bill asked, following Beverly, who was the one to start the feast, in ripping open the top of a takeout box to reveal the food inside of the first- five tacos were stood side-by-side-by-side, overflowing with different toppings. Richie bought from a local food truck down the street, and they made the very best authentic tacos in all of Portland.

"A pact with the devil and a few sacrifices," Richie shrugged, pushing in past Bev and Bill to reach the food for himself, "And lots and lots of practice." In all honesty, his Voices came to him as if it were breathing or walking. They were a part of him for a multitude of reasons, but most of those reasons were more private than he'd like to admit. Briefly, he pointed out what different items were, which tacos had what toppings and which ones were his personal favorites (Not even he knew if he was telling them his preferences to get them to stay away or because he thought they'd like them too). Only after he had filled his plate with more tacos than he could eat did he step back to let the others pass, though he did notice that Eddie was sitting patiently and waiting for the others to serve themselves up first like the gentleman he had shown himself to be. "Here, Spaghetti-man. Try this one," Out of the kindness of his own heart, Richie sacrificed one of his chicken avocado tacos despite the scowl Eddie gave him thanks to the nickname, and despite the fact that they were the best of the best, "They're perfect," making an 'ok' sign with his fingers, Richie kissed at the air like a chef complimenting his craft. Then, he stepped around Eddie and hopped up to sit in the counter to his right.

"Jesus, Richie, you're lucky I love you or else I would have eaten these ages ago," Bev said, and then took a too-big bite out of her food. As if it were karma for stealing Richie's stool, she accidentally inhaled a flake of cheese or maybe lettuce, hacking out a cough and dropping her taco down onto her plate to thump her fist against her chest- immediately, concern was scrawled across Eddie's face, and he was about to leap to his feet to help her when she held out a finger and cracked a goofy smile. "All-" she choked out, and then buried her face into her sleeve, "All good-" Eddie was already putting his plate down and moving to get out of his chair. His mouth began to run a mile a minute, speaking so quickly that even Richie, ADHD in human form, could hardly piece the words together.

"Are you sure? I know the Heimlich maneuver- CPR too- and I have 9-1-1 on speed dial. You could damage your throat or your lungs and you don't always recover from stuff like that, even if it's just-"

"Woooooah there, Eds! She's just fine, trust me- she always does this. Bev's a bit of a blockhead in that aspect," Speaking through a mouthful of food, Richie placed his hand on Eddie's shoulder to keep him in his seat, "She seems to like choking on food almost as much as-"

"Bee' bee' Ri'ie!" Her face red, still choking, Bev found it necessary to end that train of thought then and there. She lunged across the counter, one hand connecting with Richie's side, and pushed him right from his seat. He hardly had time to catch himself, letting out a startled shout and almost dropping his plate. Bill's face split with an ear-to-ear grin and even though he had never heard that phrase, Beep Beep Richie, in his entire life, he knew that it was a part of him now just as much as any of this- He was laughing away, his eyes bright like small suns or maybe reminiscent of the glow of something alien, like a life force in the form of light or the glint of shiny teeth though that wasn't what Richie was paying attention to. Instead, through his thick glasses, he was staring at Eddie and passing him rapid glances out of the corner of his eye, trying to confirm his suspicions and to ease his surprise. Eddie Kaspbrak seemed to be smiling, just a little tiny quirk of his lips- on any other face this smile would have meant nothing but the fact that it was Eddie who was showing any sign of joy was a monumental moment.

"Beep beep yourself, asshole!" Richie rolled his eyes, his grin still strong as ever. Leaning on the counter across from the three, they all began to eat again though Richie was practically buzzing with a mixture of emotion. He was determined to get something bigger out of Eddie, a full on laugh, a double-over and clutch your sides kind of laugh, the kind of laugh that only came from something so insanely stupid that you couldn't not break down because of it. He knew all too well that you couldn't force comedy, and just had to hope that the perfect opportunity arose. "So," Richie leaned his head on his hand, fluttering his lashes innocently (which meant he had something mischievous planned), "What all do you know about choking? Were you really able to save Bev if she was dying just then? How?" Eddie scoffed, his eyes flicking up from his plate for just a moment to meet those of the Tozier boy.

"What do you mean 'how'? You have to have learned basic First Aid. Everyone should know this shit." Crunching down onto his taco, Richie shook his head. The look that crossed Eddie's face then was hilarious. The horror mixed with disappointment morphed his boyish features perfectly- if he had a camera, Richie wouldn't have hesitated to take a photo. He knew what CPR was and the Heimlich too, he wasn't that dumb but for the sake of the teasing he would play dumb as a brick since that was what he was best at. "So, what you're saying is, if I hadn't been here and Beverly had really been choking she would have just- died. Just like that. Because you don't know how to do CPR."

"I'm sad to say so," Richie shrugged one shoulder, "She'd be done-zo. Six feet under. Kickin' the can."

"First of all, it's the bucket, not the can," Eddie said with a roll of his eyes, though that upward quirk of his lips had returned and Richie felt a swell of triumph, "And second, that's really, really hard to believe."

"Well, it's the truth, so..." Another one-shouldered shrug. "Are there like, different types of CPR?"

"Oh my God, you're a fuckin'-" Eddie bit his tongue. Shaking his head, one hand rose to pinch the bridge of his nose, and then he dropped it and turned a surprisingly patient gaze onto Richie. "It starts with chest compressions," Something in Eddie changed, then, so suddenly it was almost invisible. His shoulders pulled back, his chin tilted up, and his eyes adopted a light that Richie had yet to see in them. It was confidence, self-assurance, a sign that Eddie knew exactly what he was talking about. "Chest compressions help the flow of blood to the heart and the brain. You do 30 chest compressions and then you have the check the persons airway, make sure there's no blockage-"

"What kind of blockage?" A snicker from Richie,

"Shut up," Eddie continued without pausing, and there was now the concern that he needed to breathe, "Then after that you can do mouth-to-mouth-" And, that was the breaking point for Richie. He smiled wide, leaned in a little closer, and, in that sly, mischievous tone, said,

"So what do I have to do to get CPR from ya Eds?" This promptly earned him a shove and another harsh punch to the shoulder.

***

After dinner passed, the group had shifted over to the couch for a movie. The thing with Taco Tuesday's was that each new week someone else picked the movie, and this week just so happened to be Richie's choice. That was why they were currently huddled around the TV watching 'The Birds'- Richie has to have seen it a billion times by now.

"Watch watch watch watch watch- oh! Bird attack!" Punching his fist into the air, Richie hollers his words, his elbow nearly jamming Eddie in the ribs as he flops back down into the sofa, "Shit, this scene used to scare me have to fuckin' death when I was a kid!" Watching, unamused, as birds flew in through a homes fireplace, Eddie let out a sound that might have meant to be a chuckle but sounded more like a scoff.

"I seriously can't believe this movie scared you," Eddie was still wearing that small, serene smile. All through the movie so far Richie has been making his silly little comments, pointing out the parts that always made his younger self shudder with fear, "It's just- so boring! So slow! And it's not realistic in the slightest-"

"Oh come on Eds, you're the one who's supposed to be terrified of these feathery little dudes. Shouldn't you be shitting your pants right now? Clinging to my side, sobbing, oh Richie, oh Richie please hold me close, I can't look any more!" As Richie's tone shifted into a falsetto, a poor, poor mimic of Eddie, he slumped, clinging to the shorter boy much like he was describing, "Turn it off, I'm shaking in my boots! Turn it off, pleeeeeeease-"

"Shut up, Richie!" As Richie's arms locked around Eddie's waist, he heard that sound that he was starting to think he'd never hear. As Eddie began to squirm, pushing and shoving at Richie's arms, his smile grew wider, something goofy and uncharacteristic, all teeth and dimples- along with that smile came the lightest, happiest, warmest sound that ever seemed to have existed. Eddie laughed, a real chuckalicious laugh, high-pitch and joyous. Richie's teasing words didn't cease, and he even began to wiggle his fingers, jabbing them into Eddie's sides and driving the boy to curl into himself, almost whacking Richie in the side of the head with his knee. As the laughing continued, Richie's chest tightened up pleasantly, warmly, his heart fluttering and his stomach doing some seriously impressive somersaults.

"Yowza yowza YOW-za! Richie Tozier gets off a good one!" Now, both Bev and Bill were laughing too, the movie long forgotten. In a brave moment Richie leaps to his feet, but his arms don't leave Eddie's form and then he's carrying him right with him. Eddie lets out a cry as the couch falls away but Richie holds him nice and tight, beginning to prance, spinning, jiving across the room, "Richard Wentworth Tozier is on a roll, on a ROLL baby! Yowza yowza-" He and Eddie are interrupted then by a dinging sound, the familiar ring of his cellphone. Richie's cheeks were warm, and he was certain that they were red, too. "Here ya go, Eds," he set Eddie back down, ignoring the 'It's Eddie, dickwad' and instead plucking his phone from where it sat on the coffee table. He felt high, no, better than high. He had only smoke weed a few times but in this moment he felt better than he ever has before- and then as he looked at his screen exhilaration in his chest died in an instant. His smile fell away, just for the briefest moment, before he forced it right back in it's place to cover up the pang of pain he felt at the new absence of his contentedness. The text he had received had been small, just a simple word, and yet it had killed the wonderful squeamishness in his stomach. It had killed the feeling that he had never felt before. It had killed that infinite warmth.

Hey.

Riche dropped his phone again without bothering to ask, and collapsed onto the couch once more, eyes trained on the film. It was all fine, he was vibing, living, enjoying his evening and no one would ruin that for him. Eddie, seeming to have noticed the split-second shift in Richie's expression, leaned in close and, brows furrowed with concern, asked,

"Everything okay?" Richie knew just how to deal with situations like this- he was a trained expert at skirting questions. With an easy-breezy smile and a set of thumbs up, he clicked his tongue and responded with,

"Cool as a cucumber, my friend," His own voice sounded funny to him with how grossly happy it was. It didn't match the pit in his stomach at all. This tone he took on in the direst situations was one of his few Secret Voices- he called it 'Richie 'I'm-All-Right' Tozier' and it was basically him, but without any life problems and crippling anxiety. He was so good at it now, so good at faking that good that you could hardly tell I'm-All-Right from the real him. Eddie shrugged and returned to the movie. For a few moments, everything was okay again, until he got another text. This one was... different from the last. It was from the same person, but had an entirely different feel.

hope you understand that we're not over. We won't ever be over.

Oh, shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit. Richie put his phone away, letting it drop down into his lap, as inconspicuously as possible though his heart was beating at 10000000 miles an hour. Christ, he felt like he needed a puff from Eddie's inhaler! The hidden threat in those words, the passive aggressiveness of them, it terrified him more than even a Voice could hide. The way his shoulders tensed must have been all too obvious. Not only was Eddie looking at him again, worried, but Bev was passing him discreet glances as well.

"Are you sure everything's okay, Rich? You look tense," Eddie still kept his voice low, so low, the perfect level to be heard by Richie and Richie alone.

"I- Yeah, I'm fine. Don't, uh..." Joke joke joke he needed a joke or he might let his smile turn all wobbly and weird and then Eddie would worry even more, "Don't worry your pretty little head." Panic panic panic- Richie is panicking. He thinks his hands might be shaking and maybe his eyes are glossing over just a little. The movie is bright right now, reflecting off of his watery gaze and as he watches Eddie's mouth begin to move again, preparing to pour out more concern, Richie spoke first because he can't bear to see Eddie worried and he double can't bear being the reason for that worriedness. "Excuse me for a moment, dears," Richie stood, smiling wanly, "I require a piss." And, with that, he hurried away for the bathroom. He hardly made it into the room in time, slamming the door shut and punching on the lights, before the fear really gripped him. He stumbled up to the sink, his hands gripping so hard onto the basin that his knuckles went white. Looking at his reflection in the mirror was strange. His face was white, his eyes were, indeed, glossy, so so obvious behind his glasses, and he looked positively miserable. He didn't want to look at his phone again, yet at the same time he was almost desperate to reread those messages, to reassure himself that maybe they were in his head, just memories, all a ploy, all just him remembering bad times and creating more bad times from those memories.

But Richie wasn't foolish. He knew that those messages were real. Should he even be surprised? Taking off his glasses and setting them aside, Richie turned on the faucet and cupped his hands underneath the rushing stream of lukewarm water. He sucked a breath through slitted teeth, and let his eyes fall shut, just for a moment. Texts could be bad, yeah. Texts could be threatening. In the end, though, texts couldn't hurt him. If Richie was careful, alert, he never needed to see that douchebag again. If he was careful than this asshole couldn't get close to him. Leaning forwards, Richie brought the water up to his face, splashing it upwards and letting the refreshment roll over him in a steady wave. Ex-boyfriends were assholes, yeah, Richie's especially- but he had fought so hard to get out of that relationship. Surely no God could be cruel enough to throw him back into it. Running a towel over his face and replacing his glasses, Richie caught his own eyes in the mirror once more. In an instant, the damaged, sunken, shell of his face morphed up into that Richie Tozier grin. It was movie time, baby. Cool as a cucumber.

[softest-cinnamon-roll]

For the challenge: fire

word: firewords: 1,159time: 21:20 - 21:50

* * * * *

Eddie kept his head down, gloved hands shoved firmly in his pocket as he walked alongside his dad, up the long path to the large country house. The gravel crunched under his feet and he felt his heart begin to race as they got closer and closer. Of course, this wasn’t a new revelation, Eddie hadn’t been brought here against his will or anything like that. He was just...terrified that something bad would happen because of him.

When Eddie was four years old, his dad had bought him a hamster. He had been so happy, and in his excitement he reached out to pet it and...the hamster burst into flames. Like any normal four year old, Eddie burst into tears and ran to his dad, who had consoled him, stroking his hair and explaining that strange things happened sometimes.

However, it wasn’t just sometimes. Since that one afternoon, things just seemed to get worse and over the years Eddie had no more fingers left to count how many random fires had started because of him. Which was why, at the ripe age of seventeen, Eddie was going to a school for gifted young people.

According to his dad, he knew the headmaster and because of this, he knew that Eddie was going to be in safe hands. Here, he would learn how to control his ability and be able to manage it without wearing gloves or being extra cautious when touching other things. As they stepped up onto the porch, the door swung open and a tall man with curly hair and glasses opened up, a wide smile on his lips.

“Frank Kaspbrak, it really has been too long,” the man spoke, taking a step forward as his dad did the same, embracing the man. “It’s so good to see you, my friend.”

His dad pulled away from the hug and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, “Wentworth, you look great, finally got a bit of meat on those bones I see!” At the comment, they both laughed before his dad turned to Eddie, beckoning him forward. “This is my son, Eddie. I really hope you’ll be able to work your magic.”

Went smiled and held out a hand for Eddie, “Nice to meet you young man. Welcome to the Tozier School for the Gifted. We’ll make sure you fit in well with everyone and make you feel better in no time.” Carefully, Eddie shook his hand with his gloves on, wincing just a little at the contact, but Went didn’t even jerk. “Why don’t you head on inside and meet the others? I’ll go over the paperwork with your dad?”

Eddie nodded and stepped into the house, his eyes wide with awe at the grandeur of the place. The inner hall had marble flooring and the stairs were shaped like a horseshoe. Above Eddie’s head hung a sparkling chandelier that was...extraordinary. “Wow…”

“It’s a little much in my opinion, especially with kids like us running around,” a voice broke through his silence and Eddie looked to the top of the stairs to see a boy with auburn hair walking down with a smile on his face. “I’m Bill Denbrough, and you must be Eddie? Went told us you’d be arriving today.” Eddie was about to open his mouth, but one second Bill was in front of him and the next he was gone. “Sorry, should have warned you.”

“Fuck!” Eddie jumped as Bill appeared behind him, grinning from ear to ear. “What- you- what?”

Bill chuckled, “It’s a school for gifted kids remember? You’re not the only one with special powers, some are just a little cooler than others. Like Richie’s, but he’ll tell you all about it when you meet him. He’s Went’s son by the way, the reason this whole place took off.” Bill moved again, disappearing and reappearing at the foot of the stairs. “My gift; teleportation.”

Teleportation? Holy shit, Eddie needed to sit down. He felt a little woozy and slowly made his way over to a chair, slumping into it. “Sorry this- this is just a lot to take in right now. I never- my dad didn’t exactly tell me much about this place, just that they’d be able to help me.”

“Oh they will!” Bill nodded. “Before I came here I was popping all over the place. I had no idea how to control it, but it all comes down to one thing. You need an anchor. Something to hold your emotions at bay.”

“Bill are you overloading the newbie?” Another new voice appeared and Eddie looked up, behind Bill to see a boy who almost looked the spitting image of Wentworth. Richie, Eddie thought, this must be Richie. Their eyes locked and Richie’s eyes widened just a little. “Well hello there cutie-pie. My dad said that we were getting a newbie but he didn’t say anything about you being so darn adorable.”

A flush appeared on Eddie’s cheeks and he ducked his head just a little, swallowing thickly. “I- I’m not- I mean.” Damn he needed some water, but it was all the way over on the other table and his legs felt like jelly. Suddenly, like magic, one of the bottle’s rose from the table and floated across to Eddie, landing in his lap. He looked up to see Richie staring at him with a quirked eyebrow. “Was that- you?”

Richie nodded his head, “Telekinesis,” he supplied, taking a seat next to him. Vaguely, Eddie noticed that Bill wasn’t there anymore. “What’s your gift Eds?” He asked and Eddie blinked a few times. “Eddie right? That’s your name, I just like giving nicknames.”

“Eddie is already a nickname, you know,” Eddie shot back and Richie grinned. He paused for a moment, blinking a few times. “Fire. My gift is fire.”

“Can I see?” Richie asked and Eddie bit his lip, but slowly nodded his head and pulled his gloves off. With a light wave of his hands he set the vase on the other side of the room ablaze, gasping a little. He didn’t have to panic though, as Richie had doused it with some water. “Damn, that’s...cool. Dangerous, but cool.” He pursed his lips as though he were pondering something. “Can I try something?”

Eddie tilted his head to the side, “I guess?” He asked.

Richie nodded and placed a firm hand on Eddie’s thigh, making him gasp a little at the spark. “Try and light the chandelier on fire,” Richie instructed and Eddie’s eyes widened, shaking his head. “Eds...trust me. Do it.”

With a deep breath, still watching Richie carefully, Eddie moved his hand towards the Chandelier.

And nothing happened. Absolutely nothing. Not even a spark of a flame. Eddie stared at Richie with wide eyes, but Richie was smiling much warmer now. “What- how?”

“Eddie Kaspbrak, I’ve been waiting a long time for you. I’m your anchor...and you are mine.”

* * * * * 

@3tothe1 @anellope @annxmatron @appojoos @are-you-reddie-for-it @beepbeeprichiellc @bi-bi-richie @billdenbrough @bitchbrak @callmechee @dadbodrichie @derrylosers @disneyfan567 @eds-trashmouth @eduardoandale @feldmancorey @girasol-eddie @gloire-celeste @halfway-happy353 @hawkinsbabe @inthebreadbinwrites @itfandomprompts @its-stranger-than-you-think @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @kaspzier @lifesucksheres20bucks @loserslibrary @losers-gotta-stick-together @madidraw @mars-14 @marsisaplanetyall @moonlightrichie @nancynwheeler @no-she-wasnt-reddie @oldguybones @pink-psychic @purplepoisonedgem @queen-sock @ransonelovebot @rebecca-the-queen @reddie-for-anything @reddie-to-cryy @reddieforlove @reddiesetandgo @richietoaster  @roobarrtrashmouth @rreddies @s-onora @s-s-georgie @sashadrowned @sedanleystanley @sloppybitchreddie @sparklingrainbowdragon @spirited-marvel @stellarbisexual @studpuffin @takeourpure @that-weird-girls-blog @thegoshdiddlydangdoor @thejadeazalea @thorn-harvester-ven @tinyarmedtrex @tozier-boy @tozierking @toziesque @trashmouthtozierr @twoidiotsinl0ve @violetreddie @virgo-luthie @wilding-throught-thehallways @xandertheundead @xcottoncandykatx

[ddproductionsw77]

I’ll Still Love You

Fandom: IT (Muschietti Films)

Pairing(s): Reddie (Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak)

Characters: Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier, Bill Denbrough, (Mentioned) Stanley Uris, Mike Hanlon

Rating: T (Heavily implied sexual content but nothing is actually written about it… Swearing, obviously)

Description: He was going to fail out of college. He just was. Apparently, he peaked intellectually in high school because how else could one explain a valedictorian failing a History quiz? He’d never fucking failed anything in his life... well, in school and now he was going to flunk out of NYU, his dream school. (Eddie is having a hard time adjusting to college life)

Author’s Note: This was inspired by my own total meltdown when I very first started college a couple years back, down to the calling my mother crying multiple times a week HOWEVER, I did know how to do my own laundry ;) PS sorry it took so long, I am having trouble getting back into the habit of writing again so new stories are coming, they will just take awhile.

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Eddie walked numbly back across campus, feeling like he might drop into fetal position or burst into tears at any moment. A lump had formed in the back of his throat about an hour ago and no matter how many time he swallowed, he couldn’t get rid of it.

He was going to fail out of college. He just was. Apparently, he peaked intellectually in high school because how else could one explain a valedictorian failing a History quiz? He’d never fucking failed anything in his life... well, in school and now he was going to flunk out of NYU, his dream school.

Why did he even fucking need history? He was going to be a nurse! Not a fucking museum coordinator! It was entirely unfair!

Reaching his resident hall, Eddie made his way to the stairs, climbing to the third floor and starting down the long hallway toward the end. He was going to fail history and that would just be the start because obviously he had always only been high school smart not college smart and it was only going to get worse. Soon the grades in his other courses would start coming back too. Fail, fail, fail!

Reaching his dorm, Eddie choked out a sob he’d been holding back since leaving the fucking sciences building — history wasn’t a fucking science... was it? Well how would he know? He was fucking failing it — and used his key to unlock the door.

Darting his eyes over to the other side of the room, he found it mercifully empty. Dropping his backpack to the floor uncharacteristically messily, Eddie crept into his bed and curled up beneath the covers as tears burned his eyes.

He’d made a mistake.

His mother was right, he should have never left Derry. He might as well pack it all up now and go home. He eventually would have to soon enough anyway, wouldn’t he?

Letting out a mournful moan, he remembered that he’d fucked Richie over as well, hadn’t he? He’d practically fucking forced his boyfriend to follow him to New York and now he couldn’t crack it and Richie... Richie was doing a million times better than him. Richie had already fucking joined a damn band with Mike and was as far as Eddie knew, was at least passing his courses even though he skipped half the time. And Richie hadn’t even wanted to come to New York!

Richie had wanted Los Angeles and Eddie hadn’t and now it was becoming incredibly fucking clear that Eddie should have just let his boyfriend go because apparently there was nothing for him here in New York.

Gipping his comforter, Eddie putted it up over his head and thought for one fleeing moment that he should call his mother. His mother had told him something like this would happen. She’d said he needed her, that he couldn’t succeed on his own, that he was setting himself up to fail by leaving her. Everything she’d said was coming true, wasn’t it?

Peeking out from the covers, he spied the phone sitting on his desk. All he had to do was get up, walk over to it and dial and he knew Sonia Kaspbrak would be there to take him back home to Derry within three or four hours but…

Richie.

Richie was here now. Here because Eddie had made him come and Richie wouldn’t stay if Eddie left and maybe Eddie was apparently an idiot when it came to history, but even he knew that Richie shouldn’t leave New York. He was doing too well here. Flourishing here. Eddie couldn’t ask him to give all that up, not after he’d already spent his budget of selfishness allowed in a relationship on getting Richie to NYU in the first place.

The door to the dorm opened as Eddie was still staring at the phone. He glanced over to see Bill, who was his roommate for the year — if he didn’t flunk out that is — striding in. He paused, looking over at Eddie with his eyebrows scrunched together. He reached over and flicked on the light.

Bill sighed, coming in and hanging up his backpack, “I—is there a reason your j—just sitting in the dark alone?”

Eddie groaned, falling back on his bed to stare at the ceiling, fighting back the fresh wave of tears springing to his eyes, “I’m failing history.”

“Okay?” He heard Bill say slowly, questioning, “So?”

“So?!” Eddie cried, sitting up and gaping at Bill, “So, I peaked in high school. I’m going to flunk out and get sent home!”

Bill quickly looked away and Eddie thought he even saw the other boy trying to hold back a laugh. He squawked in disbelief, slamming his hand down on his mattress, crying out, “Bill! This isn’t fucking funny!”

Bill nodded, turning back to him with a schooled expression, “E—Eddie, it’s not even midterms yet. You have p—plenty of time to bring the grade up. Why are you even worried?”

“You know what,” Eddie snapped, glaring at his long time friend, “Fuck you, Bill, that’s why. Leave me the fuck alone.”

He flipped him the bird before falling back on his bed and rolling away from Bill so his back was to him.

After a minute, he heard his roommate muttered, “Didn’t even make f—fucking sense.” Quickly followed by footsteps and the door to the dorm opening. Bill paused for a moment, calling over his shoulder, “I—I’m goin’ across the hall, okay?”

Eddie didn’t answer, burying his face in his comforter as tears pooled in his eyes. The dorm door closed again.

He knew he shouldn’t have be short with Bill, it was himself he was mad at, not his friend. Still, maybe some part of him was angry with Bill, with all the rest of them, even Richie… especially Richie. Why was moving away from home and starting over so fucking easy for all of them? Eddie had spent the last two weeks since term started constantly on the verge of a panic attack and they all seemed fine. Happy even.

New York had been Eddie’s first, hadn’t it? It had been his dream. He had wanted it, worked through all of high school for it both in school and at a job afterwards. He’d fought so hard for valedictorian because valedictorians got full fucking rides and he’d known that was the only way he could really swing NYU. And he’d worked just in case.

And in two weeks he’d managed to fuck it all up. He didn’t even understand how.

He’d studied for that History quiz. Sure, he hadn’t cancelled plans to watch Richie and Mike’s band rehearse to study but he had still studied. He’d even felt good about the damn thing before turning it in… He wondered if his professor had laughed at his confidence later, grading his failure.

There was a loud, hammering knock on his door and he startled.

Sitting up groggily, Eddie glanced at the window and noticed the sky was going dark. He realized, blinking slowly, that he must have fallen asleep. Looking over his shoulder at the door, he called, “Bill, I told you to leave me alone!”

The knocking continued without pause and Eddie groaned, pushing the covers off of himself completely and going to the door, throwing it open, “What do you—“ He stopped short, finding his boyfriend leaning against the door jam, inches from his face with his fist still in the air from his insistent knocking. “…Want?”

Narrowing his eyes, Eddie sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, “Should’ve known. Only you would be so fucking annoying.”

“Aww, you just say the sweetest things to me, Eds,” Richie shook his head, dropping his hand over his heart before pushing off the door jam and passing Eddie into the room, pecking his temple as he did.

Eddie turned to him, glowering, “I didn’t invite you in.”

“I’m like a vampire,” Richie shrugged, throwing himself down on Eddie’s uncharacteristically messy bed, “You only gotta make the mistake once and I’ll just keep comin’ back.” Leaning back on his arms, he cocked his head at his boyfriend, “You didn’t meet me in the dining hall for dinner.”

“I was tired,” Eddie shrugged, still standing back as he rolled his neck, “And not that hungry.”

Richie nodded, “And then when I went back to my dorm, Stanley had written a B in the corner of the whiteboard on our door.”

Eddie stared at him blankly, “What the fuck does that mean?”

Richie smirked, playfully raising his eyebrows suggestively, “It’s our code. When we got someone in the dorm and the other isn’t supposed to interrupt, we write B or E. Well, He writes B for Billiam and I write E for my Eddie Spaghetti.”

Eddie shook his head, “Well, I guess it’s classier than a fucking sock on the door.”

“That’s almost exactly what Stan said when I suggested we just do that,” Richie laughed and sat up, “My point is that if Bill’s in my room and you skipped dinner, that means you’re just sitting in here all alone. I came to keep you company.”

“Ever consider I just want to be left alone?” Eddie grumbled, going to sit at his desk.

Richie watched him, cocking an eyebrow, “Please, like your day doesn’t brighten every fucking time you see me, Eds.”

“Don’t call me that!” Eddie snapped and spun around in his chair to glare at his boyfriend, “And if I wanted to see you, I’d have met you at the dining hall.”

“Ouch…” Richie muttered, dropping his smirk, “Okay? Why are you pissed at me?”

“I’m not!” Eddie shook his head angrily and turned around again so his back was to his boyfriend, “I just— I told you, I wanted to be alone.”

“Okay but alone doesn’t usually count me, too,” He heard Richie argue and the sound of his mattress springs shifting as Richie stood up. He felt his shoulders slump and put his head down, pinching the bridge of his nose before whirling around.

“Rich! Wait!” He called out, dropping his hand.

Richie turned around and gave him a look. Eddie knew he didn’t like being sent away which was one of the reasons Eddie very rarely did, at least not for real. He got mad sometimes and he told Richie to fuck off sometimes but he never meant it… Usually he was just upset with himself, like now.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie sighed, shaking his head and looking at his feet, “I’m not pissed at you. I’m not… I just had a really shitty day and— and I’m failing history.”

He felt tears prickle in his eyes again and swallowed hard, cringing at himself. He could almost hear Henry Bowers voice in his head, mocking him. Girly boy gonna cry? You gonna cry, girly boy? Well, don’t get your fairy dust on me, freak.

He felt a hand run down his arm and watched Richie’s familiar fingers tangle together with his. Following the arm back to it’s source, he gave his boyfriend an embarrassed, bashful look and sighed, “I’m failing, Richie.”

His boyfriend sighed and gripped his hand tighter, “Get over here, Eds.”

He pulled Eddie to his feet and lead him to the bed, where Eddie fell into Richie’s arms. He hurried his face in Richie’s chest and breathed in that scent of nicotine, mints, and maybe just a touch of cologne—not particularly good cologne but still instantly Eddie’s favorite. The weight in his chest seemed to lighten there with his boyfriend on his bed, like breathing in Richie’s scent was some kind of natural inhaler to him, opening his lung back up.

“You’re not failing, Eddie,” He felt as much as he heard Richie mumble into his hair, “One bad grade, does not a failure make. Trust me, I know a thing or two about failing. You’re going to make it up.”

“It’s not like I thought it would be,” Eddie admitted, happy to still be face-to-chest with Richie and not have to look into his eyes.

“What’s not?” “New York,” He sighed, “College. Living on my own. Any of it. I just— I thought I’d be good at it and I’m just not.”

Richie sighed and moved down to that he was looking into Eddie eyes, their noses nearly brushing. He could feel Eddie’s warm breath on his lips. Blinking slowly, he reached down and laced his fingers with Eddie’s again, bringing them up to lay between their chests. He watched Eddie’s eyes fall to them and smiled just a bit to himself, “What the fuck do you mean, Eds? You’re doing fine.”

“Richie, I’ve called my mother three times this week and it’s Tuesday,” Eddie shook his head and closed his eyes, “I’m failing history even though I’ve been studying like crazy, I haven’t talked to a single person beside the Losers since we moved here and I’m running out of clothes because I can’t fucking figure out how to use the damn washing machine. I fucking suck at this and it seems so easy for you and Bill and everyone else! I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing,” Richie instantly argued, gripping Eddie’s hand more tightly and startling his boyfriend’s eyes back open, “Nothing is wrong with you. You got this, baby,” Eddie’s heart skipped a beat as his eyes flickered back up to meet Richies, “And you don’t need your crazy ass mother to make this work, okay? Cuz the Losers are here and I’m here… And I can teach you how to do your laundry.”

There was a moment where they were both quiet before both breaking into laughter together. Eddie pulled his hand away from Richie, hooking it around his boyfriend’s neck and pulling him forward for a long, deep kiss. Locking his fingers in Richie’s hair, he pulled himself forward with the only thought on him mind being to get closer. He felt Richie’s teeth brush, teasingly, over his lip before biting ever so lightly.

Gasping, he twisted around to straddle his boyfriend and pulled back to look down at the beautiful, perfect mess of a person below him. Fuck, no one else was every going to make him feel like Richie did. No one else was ever going to make his heart race like him or drive him insane like him or challenge him everyday to keep trying like him.

This was love.

This was the stuff that people more talented than he was wrote songs and poems and books about and it was everything to him in that moment. If there was a world where he had to live and function without this, without Richie... that would be one dark, dark place.

Still out of breathe, pupils blown and heart pounding, Eddie gripped his boyfriend’s shirt and barely whispered, “I love you. I really, really do.”

Richie looked up at him with an expression Eddie couldn’t quite place but supposed it could be filed somewhere under utter devotion and nodded, “I love you, too…” His lips curled into a smirk, “Any chance we can have sex before we do the laundry thing, though?”

Eddie laughed, looking away and shaking his head before meeting his boyfriend’s eyes again, lacing their hands back together on their side of Richie’s head, “I think the laundry can wait… Not like it’ll take that long.”

“Damn, that was cold,” Richie gasped in mock pain, squeezing Eddie’s hand tight before flipping them over so that he was on top, “I’ll show you how long it can take.” _____________________________________________________________________

Two hours later, a freshly showered Eddie and Richie made their way into the muggy laundry room on the ground floor of their resident hall. Richie was carrying Eddie’s hamper and trailing along after his boyfriend, who was carrying the detergent and fabric softener. Scanning his eyes over him, Richie sighed, “Maybe we don’t need to wash your clothes, Eds. I’d be okay if you just wore those shorts for the rest of ever.”

“Beep beep, Trashmouth,” Eddie rolled his eyes, peeking over his shoulder at he set his stuff down and made sure the room was entirely empty out of habit, “Besides, there is literally no way you are still horny after the last few hours.”

Richie grinned, setting down the hamper to wrap his hands around Eddie waist from behind, “Baby, I’m eighteen and a guy; I’m always horny.”

Eddie elbowed him, “Get off me, Perv. We have shit to do.”

“Fine!” Richie exclaimed dramatically as he stepped away, rubbing his ribs where Eddie had gotten him. “So, we need quarters.”

“No shit, huh,” Eddie said in a deadpanned voice.

Richie’s eyebrows shot up, “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you wanted me to teach you how to be a grown ass man but—“

“I literally would never ask you to teach me that—“

“—If you’re all good in here, I’ll just head back to my dorm—”

“—I’m barely asking you to show me how to work these dumb machines—”

“—If it’s so dumb, then I’m sure you can figure it out—“

“—Stop being a dumbass, Richard—“

“—Richard?! Richard?! Fuck you, Edward!”

A buzzer sounded, startling both of them.

Sighing, Richie pulled a quarter from his pocket and flipped it to Eddie, who caught it. Glancing down at the coin, he gave him a begrudging smile, “Thanks, Richard.”

Richie rolled his eyes, a smile falling upon his lips as he moved forward to grab the hamper filled with clothes, “Okay, now pick a machine, Spaghetti Man.”

After they loaded the clothes, Richie fell into place behind Eddie with his hand on his hips as he murmured instructions in his ear. Eddie let him, half deciding it was probably all harmless anyway and half convincing himself that nobody else would be doing their laundry at 11 o’clock at night. Tangled up like that, Eddie put in the detergent and softener and set the machine to the right cycle.

Once the wash started up, he turned around to be nearly nose-to-nose with Richie, a pleased smile on his face, “I did it!”

“That you did, Eds, I told you that you didn’t need your hag of mom,” Richie grinned, leaning down to kiss his boyfriend.

Eddie wrapped his arms around Richie’s neck and kissed him back for a moment before pulling away and whispering, “Thank you… seriously.”

“It’s just part of the boyfriend job description, baby. All good."

“Still...” Eddie sighed, absentmindedly playing with Richie’s hair, “I’m still failing History.”

Richie rolled his eyes before ducking and kissing Eddie, hard and quick, effectively taking his breath away before pulling away, “Yeah, well, I’ll still love you if you have to retake dumbass History.”

“How noble of you,” Eddie’s lips twitched as he peered up into Richie’s eyes through his eyelashes. “Probably one of the things that make me like you so much... even though you’re fucking horny and annoying eighty perfect of the time.”

Ignoring him, Richie kissed him again, holding him against him.

[reddie-4-more]

One shot idea; the losers are teenagers and eddie is having a bad day at school that leads to an intense meltdown and Richie does his best to help and gives him cuddles n stuff afterwards . i like hurt/comfort fluff lol

Hi, sorry that it took me so long, I couldn’t find the energy to write it between my chapters, but here it is!

So, for context, this little snippet is based on my fanfic Listen to me, more precisely on the first installment Broken, which is basically about autistic Eddie Kaspbrak dealing with his mother’s abuse and befriending the Losers, his first real friends, especially Richie.

Here are the things you’ll need to know to understand everything:

- Eddie is part of his school’s chess club with Stanley. They’re not going to every session, they’re using it as a cover so that Eddie can hang out with his friends after school.

- Eddie doesn’t know that he’s autistic and his mother refuses to acknowledge it. She’s still abusing him like in canon, but is forcing him to repress his autistic traits and making him feel bad whenever he can’t help it.

- Richie and Eddie are in the same class, but not the rest of the Losers. 

I think that’s it c:. Good reading !

He tried his best not to make a fuss over it, not wanting to anger his mom or made her think that his bad mood might be due to some health problem that would lead her to lock him home for the rest of the week.

------------

There were some days that made Eddie wonder if it was even worth it to get up from his bed. Today was one of these days. He should have known it immediately, as soon as he started to eat his breakfast and spilled his milk glass over his favorite t-shirt, meaning that he had to change it. 

But Eddie was still pissed off when his mother drove him to school and it didn’t get better from here, on the contrary. First, he had to endure his mother shouting to the whole school how much she loved her “Eddie bear”, simply because he forgot to kiss her good bye when he left the car.

Cheeks red from embarrassment, he had then walked to the building, followed by his peers’ mockeries. They teased him mercilessly, calling him all sorts of nicknames, but particularly the ones his mother never hesitated to use whenever they were in public, even though he was fifteen. Of course, when Eddie retorted with a furious “Fuck!”, it had to be in one of his teachers’ earshot.

The man didn’t care at all that Eddie was merely trying to defend himself, to be left alone. He only heard him swear out loud and that couldn’t be accepted in such a respectable school as Derry High School, right? 

It wasn’t like there were bullies roaming around, always ready to shove their classmates into their locker, punch them for fun or steal their stuff. No, obviously, the teenager who yelled “Fuck!” was the biggest problem this school ever encountered…

And that’s how Eddie ended up with one hour of detention, as soon as school would be over. It was the first time he ever had been punished that way. He did get scolded at some point or earned himself more homework than the others, but a detention…

His mom was going to be furious. And maybe she’ll took some of his comic books from him or… or even worse, she could forbid him to go to the Chess Club and he wouldn’t have an excuse anymore to hang out with his friends. 

He’d have to spend the rest of his day at home and Richie and the others would forget all about him and they’d stop hanging with him and…

Eddie took a deep breath, trying to relax. It was only the beginning of the day. He couldn’t start to break down already. He needed to be strong. At least until recess. Then, he’ll be able to run to the bathroom and cry his heart out, hidden from everyone else. Stay strong, Eddie. Stay strong.

He smiled clumsily to his friends once he joined them, listening to their discussion more than participating. He didn’t have much energy left, he needed to keep it for the rest of the day. For class.  If he had to go into detention, he could at least do his best to work well and make up for it later. His mom would be so happy if he managed to get the best grade. But that would mean that he needed to do better than Richie and that… that was pretty much impossible.

He grimaced at the thought and Richie, who was walking next to him while they were joining their classroom, asked him thoughtfully:

“Hey, you’re okay, Eds?”

Eddie shrugged. He wasn’t good at lying, but he didn’t really want to tell the truth either. If Richie knew that he was moody because he spilled milk on himself and got a detention, he would certainly mock him and call him a crybaby. Eddie knew that Richie never treat him that way, but he couldn’t stop himself from thinking that he might. 

Even though they were now friends, Eddie was still somehow convinced that it could be taken away from him in an instant and that Richie and the rest of the Losers might secretly think that he was pathetic and annoying. They just didn’t dare to tell him because they were too nice for that.

Eddie’s day kept on being the worst. As soon as he walked into their classroom, he noticed the flashing neon ceiling light above his head and groaned. It wasn’t just about the flicker, although it was annoying in itself and made him feel dizzy. 

No, there was also this fucking sound. This buzz that he seemed to be the only one to care about, since none of his classmates seemed to be bothered by it… Apart from Richie, whose attention kept drifting towards the flashing light, easily distracted by the simplest things. But it didn’t seem to hurt him, just like it hurt Eddie.

Okay… Okay, he could hold on. He wasn’t going to be able to focus on his lesson, but if he kept his head down and focused on his breathing, he would get through it. 

Not ideal, since he really wanted to work and listen to the teacher so that he could earn a good grade later, but Eddie didn’t have much of a choice. He gritted his teeth, jumping a little when Richie poked him gently with his pen, trying to get his attention:

“Dude, you’re alright? Your face is all red. You look like one of the M&M guys.”

“I’m fine.”

“Not the yellow one, though. Or the orange. Or the bl...”

“I fucking got it, Richie!”

Eddie just shouted, unable to control the volume of his voice. His classmates all looked at him and Eddie let out a frustrated noise, burying his head in his crossed arms. It was a bad day. A very bad day. He just wanted to go home. Why was it still so early in the morning? He would even accept to watch his mom’s stupid talk shows for 24 hours straight, if it might get him out of here…

But of course, it couldn’t just stop there. No, everything that already happened, plus what he had to handle right now, it wasn’t enough. God had made Eddie Kaspbrak his little plaything and enjoyed his misery, Eddie was sure of that. Because as soon as their teacher entered the room, he announced, his voice laced with sadism, that they’ll have to take a pop quiz.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. While the rest of the class was sighing and expressing their displeasure in many ways, Eddie scratched the palm of his hand furiously, his heart beating too fast, his thoughts starting to swirl out of control. He wasn’t ready. He hadn’t studied at all, he barely read some of his previous lessons and… and…

The light was still flickering. Eddie blinked a few times, quickly, trying to focus on the questions that he was supposed to answer to. His grip on his pen felt all wrong, as if he didn’t quite remember how to use his hand. 

Right next to him, he could see Richie writing frantically on his paper, putting it slightly to the side so that Eddie could copy if he needed, but he couldn’t even concentrate enough to be able to read Richie’s answers. Everything seemed blurry, out of focus, and Eddie kept rubbing his eyes, hoping it could help in some way. It wasn’t helping. At all.

Eddie managed to write his name on the copy, but his usually neat handwriting was all scrambled and messy, as if he barely learned how to use a pen. Eddie plunged his fingernails in his palm at the sight, trying to contain the tears that wanted to spill out and roll down his cheeks. He wasn’t a crybaby. It was just a test. A simple pop quiz. He could handle it.

For the rest of the hour, Eddie tried desperately to jog his memory, but to no avail. His brain felt sluggish, his mind focusing despite himself on the flickering neon light and the faint buzzing sound he kept hearing. 

He had absolutely no idea if the answers he was crossing down were even close to right or if it was one of those tests where you could pick multiple answers or… or fuck, he didn’t know what he was doing or reading at all.

A high-pitched, loud sound, coming from a metal ruler that one of his classmates inadvertently pushed from his desk, suddenly echoed in the classroom and Eddie yelped, dropping his pen on the floor, clutching his hands over his ears in a reflex. His reaction made some of his classmates snicker at him, while Richie raised his head from his copy, looking at him with concern.

His teacher asked Eddie to take back his pen, but Eddie couldn’t bring himself to do so. It was dirty, the floor was disgusting, it was surely covered with germs, but it was the pen that Eddie was always using whenever he was taking a test and without it, he…

Richie bent down and grabbed the pen, pulling a tissue from his pocket and cleaning it thoroughly, giving it back to Eddie with a gentle smile. Eddie smiled back, his expression closer to a grimace than anything else. 

The pen wasn’t totally clean, there were probably germs that the tissue couldn’t wipe off, but Eddie appreciated the effort. He did his best to finish his test, trying to ignore the way some of his classmates had started to mock him after what he did.

Eddie was exhausted when the teacher told them that it was time for them to turn back their copies. As much as he tried to, he still had a few questions he didn’t answer to and it frustrated him to no end. When he gave back his paper to his teacher, Eddie felt tears starting to roll down his cheeks, unable to stop himself from sniffling. He was so tired. He wanted to go home. He couldn’t…

When it was time for them to go to recess, Eddie used his last strength to run away, trying to avoid Richie who followed him, calling out his name. He was so pathetic. It was only a test, just a single detention, milk spilled over his favorite t-shirt… It wasn’t… There was nothing to…

And then, Eddie lost control. Belch was the one who managed to make him go into a full breakdown, burping into his ear while he was finally reaching out the bathroom. The gross, loud noise made him gag audibly, his shaky legs no longer able to support his weight. He fell on his knees on the bathroom floor, his hands touching the ground as well. Disgusting. Disgusting. Disgusting.

Belch was already long gone when Eddie started to slap his forehead, again and again, wheezing awfully. He knew that he was only spreading the germs even more while doing so, but he couldn’t stop himself. It hurt and he needed it to hurt because there was so much pain on the inside and he couldn’t find a way to let it out and he couldn’t even breathe properly and…

Eddie suddenly found himself wrapped in a warm, tight embrace. He attempted to struggle, wheezing so much that he couldn’t get any oxygen in his lungs, when a hand managed to grab his inhaler from his fanny pack and pressed it against his lips. Eddie wrapped them around the object in a reflex and the button was pressed a few times, releasing the relief Eddie needed so much.

He never really understood how his medicine, especially his inhaler, worked, but whenever he was using it, he managed to relax, to get his pressure down, finding the comfort he needed. Eddie went limp in Richie’s arms, who supported his body against him, shushing him gently.

“Let’s find a better place to rest for a bit, okay?”

Eddie nodded distractedly, trying to get some strength back in his legs. Supported by Richie, he managed to walk to the school library, the librarian letting them on without any questions asked. She was always so nice and understanding, Eddie suspected that she might know that he and his friends were bullied and that it was her way to apologize for not being able to do much more for them…

Richie sat him on a couch, sitting next to him. He rummaged through Eddie’s fanny pack, pulling out a few hand wipes, cleaning Eddie’s fingers with it. When it was done, Eddie started to hug himself in a vain attempt to find some comfort in the gesture. But Richie was the one who knew how to tighten his arms around him in the proper way, the best way, giving him the deep pressure Eddie craved so much. Eddie let out a soft sigh, Richie caressing his hair in a gentle way that he had learned to appreciate quite a lot.

“Deep breaths, Eddie. It’s okay. Take your time. If you can talk, maybe you can tell me what upset you so much.”

Richie cheekily grinned, supplying with an amused voice:

“Tell Daddy everything.”

Eddie audibly groaned, causing Richie to chuckle. But he managed to smile and started to talk, having trouble to pull the words out of his throat:

“I… I got detention… And… uh… I f… I failed the test… I’m stu...”

Richie shushed him immediately, putting his index finger on his lips:

“You’re not stupid, Eddie Spaghetti. You’re not.”

Eddie bit his bottom lip. He was. He clearly was. None of his classmates was disturbed by the flickering lights like he was and they weren’t screaming because of some high-pitched noise and they didn’t want to cry over spilled milk. He… He…

Eddie started to sob openly and Richie hugged him tighter, whispering soft words to his ears, providing him the reassurance Eddie so desperately needed. But it was now time to go back to class. Richie helped him up, guiding him out of the library, winking at the librarian who rolled her eyes at the sight, but offered them a gentle smile.

For the rest of the day, Richie had been nothing but highly supportive, taking notes dutifully for Eddie, since he couldn’t focus enough to do so himself, checking on him regularly, trying to distract him from what was bothering him. At some point, he even threw his bag across the classroom as loudly and evidently as possible, grinning proudly when the teacher gave him a detention.

Eddie couldn’t believe it. He tried to protest, not wanting Richie to get into trouble on his behalf, but Richie shrugged, still smiling openly:

“Anything for my Eddie Spaghetti.”

And Eddie could see that Richie truly didn’t care, as long as he could be there with him. As long as they could stay together...

--------------------------------

And that’s the end of it! I hope you liked it c:. If you have other stuff you’d like me to write, don’t hesitate to tell me! It might take some time, but I’ll get to it at some point :D.

Eddie’s meltdown is highly inspired by some of my own meltdowns. I’m easily triggered by flickering lights, they’re the worst.

Take care! See you soon!

[logicalbookthief]

will you take this babe to be your only

"It’s all yours, Eds," he says, batting his eyes at Eddie’s glare. "On one condition."

He drops to his knee, just like they do in the movies. His lips make a wet, smacking sound as he kisses the back of Eddie’s hand, grin unrepentant.

"Make me the happiest man in the seventh grade?"

OR: Five times Richie proposed to Eddie as a joke and the one time he was serious. Based on THIS amazing, adorable reddie art by @faiyx. Title from “Let’s Get Married” by Bleachers.

Link to ao3

Richie saunters over to friends – specifically over to Eddie, who’s giving Stan and Bill a wide berth as they fiddle with Bill’s bike. But Eddie catches the glint of his ringpop in the sun and crowds him instantly.

"Hey! Where’s mine?"

"Sorry, Eds. Only one left." He is sorry for that; Richie meant to buy one for Eddie, too. He is decidedly less sorry for the reaction he knows his counter-offer will induce. "Tell you what, I’ll share."

"Gross!" Eddie reddens with his signature disgust. "I don’t want your spit. Who knows what germs you’re carrying! Flu, strep, halitosis–"

"You can’t spread halitosis," Stan interrupts. Eddie shoots him a look that is both confused and scathing.

It’s kind of cute, actually. The furrowed brow, the tightening around his lips. Everything Eddie does is at least kind of cute. Even when he’s trying to connive Richie out of his candy.

"C’mon, Rich. Red’s my favorite flavor."

"Red isn’t a flavor."

"You know what I mean, dipshit."

"Eds, you kiss your mother with that mouth?" Richie tuts. "Or does she save all the lip-action for me?"

"Shut up! You’re so fucking gross.” Eddie scowls, making a lunge for Richie’s arm. He’s got a couple inches on Eddie, and it’s way too easy to hold the ring out of reach, so Eddie has to jump for it.

Richie could tease Eddie like this all day, but an idea strikes, and oh, he can’t resist.

"Okay, you’ve convinced me. It’s all yours, Eds," he says, batting his eyes at Eddie’s glare. "On one condition."

He drops to his knee, just liken they do in the movies. His lips make a wet, smacking sound as he kisses the back of Eddie’s hand, grin unrepentant.

"Make me the happiest man in seventh grade?"

Eddie sputters, his cheeks a hot, fluorescent pink. Too deer-in-the-headlights to even freak over the germs from Richie’s saliva.

"Our Eddie could do better," Stan shouts. Richie yelps in offense.

"Take that back, Stanflakes!"

While he’s distracted, Eddie swipes the ringpop and sticks it in mouth. All smug, completely unrepentant. Richie would be annoyed, if his stomach wasn’t twisted in  fluttery knots all of a sudden.

Weird. Maybe he should lay off the candy, after all.

*

*

*

*

"Expert quarry-diver, Richard Tozier, will now attempt his triple back-splash bellyflop." Richie clears his throat of the British voice, the tips of his toes dangling over the edge of the cliff. He bends to a diving pose, sticking his butt towards his audience.

"Would you be careful?" Eddie nags. "Do you know the statistics of water-related injury among kids our age?"

"Do you know the statistics of virgins who quote statistics all the time?" Richie mimics Eddie’s high-pitched tone, chuckling at how huffy he gets. "Lighten up, Eds."

Mike peers over his shoulder. "It is a pretty big fall."

Richie snorts. "Not as big as my–"

His foot slips, careening back into nothing. The last thing he sees before he plummets is Eddie, seized by terror.

As far as last sights go, it isn’t so bad.

He slams against the water, hard. The impact punches the air out of his lungs. He sinks for a bit, dazed by pain, until the tightness in his chest becomes almost unbearable.

Disoriented, Richie flails his arms, aiming for the surface but going nowhere. His lungs have started to ache with urgency when he’s grabbed under the arms. They breach the surface, gulping in a glorious burst of oxygen, and finally, he’s set on land. He gasps, water sluicing past his lips, tasting all the nasty shit Eddie claims is in there.

Eddie.

"Eddie," he croaks, his vision blurry. He must’ve lost his glasses.

"You idiot," Eddie screeches. Wetness clings to his lashes. Richie suspects it isn’t from the quarry yet doesn’t dare voice this aloud. “I told you, I told you to be careful, and what did you do!? You could’ve broken your neck!"

"Or my huge dick,” Richie coughs, as his glasses are shoved back onto his face. He looks up to see Stan rolling his eyes.

"Besides his brain, is anything broken?”

"Dr. K doesn’t think so," says Ben, smiling in relief. "He jumped in after you, then Bill and I, and we swam you to shore."

"My hero," Richie sing-songs. He grins at his savior. "Marry me, Eds?"

"Pull that shit again and I'll let you drown," Eddie promises, though it's sort of undermined by how he's still hovering over Richie. Clingy Eddie is a worried Eddie, and selfishly, Richie likes it.

"You’ll have a helluva bruise," Bev remarks, poking at his skin.

"I’ve only seen people fall that way in cartoons," Mike exclaims.

Stan guffaws. "You dropped like Wile E. Coyote."

"Idiot," Eddie repeats. He hasn’t let go of Richie’s wrist, the point of contact burning so hot it may as well be imprinted on his skin. “Next time, you better listen to me.”

Richie beams. "Of course. What would I do without you, Eds?"

"Die, apparently," says Bill, and Richie laughs so hard water spurts out of his nose.

*

*

*

*

It’s the dead of night when Richie climbs through Eddie’s window, but the motions are so familiar, he could probably do it blind. He’s walked the distance from his house to the Kaspbrak’s so many times he could tell you the exact amount of steps it takes from his room to Eddie’s front door.

The excursions used to be a necessity, considering how frequently his mom would keep him home from school, and how she refused to let any of them visit Eddie when they brought his homework. Ever since Eddie put his foot down over the gazebos, he hadn’t missed nearly as much, until about a week ago.

A few days of absence is tolerable, though by no means enjoyable for Richie. A week is his absolute limit.

He slides the window open and slips inside. The room’s empty, except for a nest of blankets on the bed. Richie frowns, scanning for signs of life. Then the nest shifts, and he hears a sniffle.

"Rich?" Eddie pokes his head out of the cocoon. "What’re you doing here?"

Maybe it’s that he figured this was a case of Mrs. K’s smothering, but he isn’t prepared for the sight of Eddie: cheeks flushed, hair rumpled, his voice a sore-sounding whisper. "You really are sick, huh," says Richie, dumbly.

Eddie scoffs, a cough wracking his whole body. "No, I quarantined myself for fun! I love the smell of stale air and Vicks vapor rub."

"Geez, if you’re gonna be a dick, I’ll take my care-package and go," Richie turns on his heel, as if to leave.

Fingers curl around his arm, stronger than he expected. Richie cuts to Eddie’s eyes, wide and vulnerable. "Please don’t go."

"Eds, hey," Richie says gently. He cards his fingers through his sweaty hair, feeling like an ass. "I was kidding."

Shakily, Eddie nods. "No, it’s okay... I forgot how it was, you know? Being hold up in my room, all by myself, because I’m sick." He swallows, drawing out a wince. "It’s..."

Lonely. Eddie doesn’t have to say it for Richie to read him loud and clear. And who wouldn’t be, trapped in a dark house with only Mrs. K and her soaps for company?

If he wasn’t just some punk teen with two bucks to his name, he’d take Eddie away from this – this prison of a room, with his mom as warden; this shithole town, with all its shake and secrets – in a heartbeat.

"Marry me," he blurts. Eddie blinks at him.

So you’ll never be alone, is what he means. What he says is, "That way if you die, I’ll get your comics."

"Fuck you," Eddie rasps. It sounds more like fug you. Richie snickers.

"You’re cute when you’re congested. I can’t take anything you say seriously."

"Why don’t you put your mouth to good use for once," Eddie grumbles, and slaps a comic into Richie’s palm. "My eyes are too watery to read."

Richie grins and does as he’s told. Probably the only instance Eddie doesn’t complain about his voices are when he reads aloud; even when they were little kids, Eddie would sit entranced, saying he was the best storyteller.. He attempts to keep the volume low, even though there’s a 90% percent chance Mrs. Kaspbrak is already passed out with a bottle of Chardonnay.

After a while, Eddie starts to doze against his shoulder, and even Richie can’t hold his eyes open much longer. He may as well spend the night; as long as he skedaddles before breakfast, Mrs. K will be none-the-wiser.

"Move over," Richie orders, slipping under the covers. They’re all elbows and knees, yet still skinny enough to fit together in the bed. It’s narrow, though. The fit is tight. His heart’s fluttering so loudly he hopes Eddie’s ears are congested, too.

"I’ll get you sick," Eddie frets. A tidal wave of affection rushes over Richie, because the concern is I’m infectious stay away, not ew, get away from me, you fag.

He dreads the day they’ll be too old, or it’ll be too gay, for Richie to sneak into his room and share his bed. So he savors it while he has it, this closeness. Shuffles their positions until his chin is tucked over Eddie’s shoulder, his chest pressed against Richie’s front.

"There," he says, grateful they’re no longer facing each other, so Eddie can’t see the flush on his cheeks. "Now you can’t breathe on me."

Eddie shivers against the cool gust of air over his neck, or maybe he’s feverish, curling back against Richie in search of warmth. Emboldened, Richie throws an arm over his middle, slotting them together. For Richie, it’s like a piece of himself falling into place.

Tomorrow he’ll complain about Eddie’s hideous morning breath and be kicked for his trouble. Tonight he drifts off to the hiss of Eddie’s breaths and is thankful for every wheeze.

*

*

*

*

"Jesus, Rich. Those things will rot your lungs before you’re forty."

Eddie grunts when he spies Richie, a cigarette dangling between his fingers. The glow is unmistakable in the low-lighting of Derry’s school halls.

Richie takes a long, exaggerated drag. "Yeah, yeah, so you’ve told me. A gazillion times."

"You survived an evil sewer clown just to kill yourself with cigarettes?" Eddie makes his bitchiest face.

"When you put it that way," Richie mutters, stubbing it out. Doesn’t want to give Eddie a reason to leave, anyway.

He slinks over to Richie, nose wrinkling at the smell. "Why aren’t you with Becky?"

"Who?"

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Your date, dumbass."

Of course Richie remembers. Becky “B-Cup” Wilkins. She sits by him in physics, where they copy each other’s work (usually with mutually devastating results). This was the first year of high school she had her braces off, and with the metal gone, she was keen to practice her kissing. Richie was more than happy to oblige.

He was a little floored when she asked him to the dance, though. Him and the Losers generally had a pact to go together, but that may have more to do with the lack of invitations from anyone else. They all encouraged Richie to accept the invite “before she realizes what she’s getting into,” as Stan so eloquently put it.

Becky was pretty, overbite or no, and she ran with a crowd of girls that were way out of his league. She had a mean streak to her, too, and apparently he liked that in a girl.

(And apparently in boys, too.)

Her friends were nice to him the whole night, even laughed at his jokes. Whether they thought he was charming in an off-beat kind of way, or simply being considerate of Becky, he wasn’t sure, nor did he particularly care.

Until he returned from the punch bowl to the girls in a cluster, giggling.

"Come on, if you had to pick a loser, who’d it be?" asks Liz Maloney.

"The short one, I guess," another girl answers. Curious, Richie follows her gaze, heart sinking at the sight of Eddie, standing off to the side with Ben and Stan, while Bev and Bill dance. His hair’s combed for once, shiny with gel, and the sweater that looks soft to the touch. Not as soft as his skin, yet it isn’t a fair comparison, since Richie’s imagined touching that for far longer.

"God, Kris, you know he’s gay, right?" Liz jeers. His stomach lurches at the disdain in her voice. "He’s never so much as looked at a girl."

"So what, he’s gay and can’t be cute?" Kris puts a hand on her hip. "Better gay than fat."

"At least Hanscom isn’t allergic to pussy."

They crack up at that, and in the mix, he hears Becky’s little snigger, the one he found so charming. Not anymore.

"You know who I’d pick?" Richie bursts in obnoxiously, startling Kris so bad she yelps. "All of them, over you."

Becky shot him a look as he left, like he was the weirdo upset over nothing, and Richie decided he was a better off a loser.

"Oh! Her." He snaps his fingers. "Yeah, we weren’t compatible, you could say. Turns out, her B-Cup was mostly tissue."

"She dumped you," Eddie surmises.

"Yeah," says Richie, because it’s easier than the truth.

His expression dims, sympathy bleeding from every pore. Eddie bumps his shoulder. "I’m sorry, dude."

Richie shrugs. "Bev is saving me a dance as we speak. I’m sure she’s got one saved for you, too."

"No thanks, I’m good." Eddie shudders. "All the sweat, the touching, the–"

"–the bacteria?" Richie finishes knowingly. "Fuck. Can’t you let loose for one night, Eds?"

"Don’t call me that," he snaps. "And what’re you doing?"

"Crossing it off your bucket list," Richie says cheerily, yanking Eddie to his feet. "C’mon, man. What if you wake up with a staff infection tomorrow? Do you wanna die without dancing at your senior homecoming?"

"Shit for brains, that isn’t how staff infect–" At his unfaltering grin, Eddie relents. "You know what, fine! Whatever it takes to shut you up."

"That’s the spirit!"

It’s obvious Eddie doesn’t quite know where to put his hands. Richie knows exactly where he wants to put his, yet he’s too much of a coward.

"You can barely hear the music," Eddie complains. "We look like idiots."

"Nobody’s watching," Richie presses, holding Eddie a bit tighter, the fear he’ll pull away worse than the fear they’ll be caught. "I could hum, if you prefer."

Eddie snorts, ducking his head, chin brushing Richie’s chest. "I don’t really know what I’m doing," he admits, self-consciously.

"Relax, you’re fine." Richie twists him into an awkward twirl, then does the same to himself, cackling at Eddie’s reluctant smile. "I’ll show you some moves when we go camping at Mike’s next weekend."

Immediately, the smile disappears. "My mom won’t let me."

"Eds,"  Richie groans. "You’re killing me."

"I tried!" Eddie cries miserably. "I tried to ask if I could visit my aunt in Chamberlain, and sneak out with you guys instead, even though it was a long-shot. But she wouldn’t go for that, either!"

"Well, there is no way you’re missing Ben’s triple-layer s’mores or your dancing lessons. Let’s brainstorm." Richie spends a second wracking his brain. "Option one, we fake your death."

"Be serious, Rich."

"Okay, okay. Option two." He makes the mistake of looking at Eddie, the words briefly catching in his throat. "We get married, run away together. As your husband, I’d totally overrule your mom."

"Where’s my ring?" Eddie asks, smirking.

Richie surprises him with a dip, just to hear his squawk. "You got to admit, Eddie Tozier has quite the ring to it," he jokes, his mouth so close to Eddie’s he feels light-headed.

"Sounds like a bad cologne brand." Eddie stares up at him, dark eyes imploring. Like he truly believes in Richie, trusts him to fix anything. "What’s option number three?"

"I stop living in sin and make it official with your mom," Richie blurts, wriggling his eyebrows. "As your stepdad, I could persuade Sonia to let our darling boy have fun with his friends."

He should’ve predicted the smack, but it jolts him enough that he drops Eddie on his ass, collapsing into a fit of giggles next to him on the floor.

"You’re sick," Eddie hisses, with no real bite. "No wonder your date left you."

Richie yanks him into a noogie. "Good thing I’ll always have you, Eddie Spaghetti."

*

*

*

*

He has Eddie, wholly, unconditionally. Until he doesn’t.

Until the memories fade, day by day, month by month, and he forgets every lingering touch, every averted glance, every painstaking swipe of his father’s pocketknife as he carved their initials into the kissing bridge. He loses Eddie, only to find him twenty-seven years later, and then only to lose him again.

Almost. Richie sighs, savoring the steady beep of the monitor beside him. He almost loses Eddie.

They narrowly escaped being crushed to death under the Neibolt, mostly because Richie, in his desperate certainty that Eddie was alive, refused to leave him behind. How could he leave him to die in that cold, dark chasm – Eddie would’ve hated it, he was afraid of the dark, kept a night-light well into his teens, and Richie couldn’t tell the others, not only ‘cause he was sobbing too harsh to make any sense, but ‘cause he promised Eds he’d never tell a soul – when he could barely pry himself from Eddie at the hospital, while the doctors insisted they take him into surgery, now.

So Richie waits, his hands quaking at the memory of Eddie’s skin, gone cold with shock. He waits, helpless, while the doctors try to shove Eddie’s innards back in and stitch up the hole in his chest.

By some miracle, they manage to do it with, and with him only flatlining once, the nurse informs him proudly. Like Richie should be ecstatic that Eddie had to be physically resuscitated, even after they brought him to safety, after killing that fucking clown.

"I’m sorry. Until he’s moved to a room, only family are allowed in the ICU," she explains to the six losers standing vigil. Richie is more than a bit bewildered when she motions him forward regardless. "Sir, you can come with me."

Still a little dazed, he follows without question, lest this privilege be revoked.

"Your husband is heavily sedated, so if he wakes he’ll likely be disoriented. I’ll be good to have a familiar face." She nods to the chair at Eddie’s bedside. "Make sure to keep him calm and comfortable."

With a final, warm smile, she leaves them alone. Richie staggers into the seat, fumbling for Eddie’s hand, where it lies limp against the starch white sheets. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until the fat drops of tears are sliding down the bridge of his nose and into the bed. His chest swells, full of all the regrets he’s carried, all the shame he’s hidden. All the love that’s interwoven into the two.

And Eddie has no idea.

No idea that Richie would fight a million fucking clowns if doing so would keep Eddie safe, let him smile, bright and buoyant, like he had at Richie when he thought he’d killed It for real.

Hell, the nurse from middle-of-fucking-nowhere Derry could tell he was head-over-heels in love, yet he couldn’t find the balls to confess to the one guy in the world who deserved to know.

Richie isn’t sure how long he’s slumped over, their fingers intertwined, before Eddie stirs.

"You’re okay, Eds. It’s Richie, I’m here," he says softly, clutching his hand tighter. "Not leaving you, buddy. Not ever again."

His brow pinches, bewildered. "When did you...?"

"Never mind," snorts Richie. His smile hardly wavers, and it’s hopelessly adoring. Eddie has that effect on him, it seems. "Just running my mouth."

"Per usual," Eddie huffs, weakly. "Did we... It, did we...?"

The monitor speeds up, signaling his distress. Richie acts on instinct, standing up, using his body to shield him from the room, the world. It’s only them, just Richie with his palm over Eddie’s cheek, thumb caressing his scar, his dimples.

"It’s dead," he assures. "Everyone made it out, we’re safe. You’re safe now."

Eddie turns into the touch, nose brushing against his fingertips. Richie sucks in a breath, his heart a jackhammer in his throat. He’s never wanted to kiss anyone like he wants to kiss Eddie right now.

Talking. Talking will distract him from that dangerous line of thought. "We carried you out. You’re in the hospital, attached to no less than a thousand wires, that I'm afraid to poke in case you explode."

A groggy smile tugs at the corners of Eddie's mouth.

"Oh, and the staff thinks I’m your incredibly devoted husband," Richie adds wryly. "What do ya say, Eds? Don’t want to get accused of hospital fraud."

Eddie hums dreamily. "I have to divorce my wife first."

Richie nearly swallows his tongue.

He could blame it on the drugs. Hell, it's probably a joke. Like his half-hearted attempt to startle a laugh out of Richie, his chin smeared with blood, the "I fucked your mom" comment followed by a streak of red.

Except it isn't a joke. This is something else entirely.

"Wha– What are you saying?"

His eyes open to slits, glaring at Richie through his lashes. "I’m trying to be brave."

Richie chokes out a laugh. "Eds, you’re braver than anybody I’ve ever met."

"Hmm." Eddie exhales, eyes slipping closed. Richie stifles the pinprick of panic begging for Eddie to keep your eyes open, stay awake, please, look at me. "Brave. Not happy."

And if that doesn’t fucking break his heart.

"We can fix that," Richie whispers, the words unbidden but earnest. He talks a lot of shit, but this, this is as vulnerable as he's ever allowed himself to be. "You and me, Eds. I want–I want you to be happy."

Happy with me.

There’s no answer. Snores drift from Eddie’s slackened lips. Richie laughs, wobbly and tear-laced, as he nuzzles his hair.

"You rest, Eddie Spaghetti. I’ll be here when you wake up." He strokes his knuckles over his forehead, and then kisses him there, just below his hairline. Fuck it, he’s tired of fearing the worst, hiding the truth.

If Eddie wasn’t afraid, neither was Richie.

*

*

*

*

"Did I ever tell you guys I proposed to my boyfriend when we were twelve-years-old? With a ringpop?"

He garners a couple of hollers and a few scattered ’awws’.

"Let me finish!" Richie shushes. "I proposed to Eddie when we were kids, and, while our friend Stan was dunking on me, he stole the ring off my hand and stuck it in his mouth. He was all: haha, got ya bitch! The lil’ shit."

The crowd titters. Besotted, Richie lays a hand over his heart and sighs.

"Proposed with a ringpop. That is the height of romance – but only if you’re a twelve-year-old. If I pulled that stunt a a grown man, you wouldn’t be waking up to a Buzzfeed article titled: 42-year-old Comedian Ties Knot with Childhood Sweetheart. You’d be reading a news report claiming: 42-year-old Comedian Justifiably Murdered By His Boyfriend."

Cheers ring out, despite him yelling, "Don't cheer for my death!"

"You know what’s really pathetic? Besides the fact my romance game peaked before puberty." He pauses, allowing the chuckles to peter out before he continues, "The worst part is, it was a joke . Yup. I didn’t know I was gay, let alone in love with my best friend! I did it solely to get a rise out of him, and boy, did he get cute when he was mad."

In a thoughtful tone, Richie reflects, "In retrospect, the gay thing should’ve been clear sooner."

At the crowd's glee, a grin splits his cheeks.

"Speaking of my gay awakening, he’s in the audience tonight." He locks eyes with Eddie in the front row, sandwiched between Ben and Mike. "Eddie, my love. Light of my life. Fire in my loins. Won’t you join me on stage, so the adoring fans can get a look at you?"

The crowd claps in thunderous agreement. Eddie shakes his head, vehemently at first, losing gusto as the Losers gently (forcibly) encourage him toward the stage. He flashes a quick, uncomfortable grin at the audience before leaning into Richie, whispering "The hell are you doing, asshole?" which, for all his tact, the mic catches anyway.

Richie tucks a now blushing Eddie against his side, showing off his gorgeous boyfriend. "Am I the luckiest guy in the world or what?" he shouts to raucous wolf-whistles. "Okay, that was maybe too enthusiastic. He's spoken for!"

He runs his palm over Eddie's shoulder, soothing the discomfort centered in the tendons of his neck. Once he relaxes, Richie trails it down his arm, skirting across his lower back. "I know you all paid good money – frankly too much money – to hear me joke on this stage tonight. But if you don’t mind, I am going to be serious for a minute."

Performative groans echo here and there, but for the most part, everyone's listening attentively.

"Twelve-year-old me was too afraid to be serious about things. The gay thing, the in love with my best friend thing. God, a lot of things." He turns to Eddie, his throat bobbing with nerves. "I’m not afraid anymore."

He’s thirty years older, his joints a lot creakier, but it’s the simplest thing in the world to drop to his knee and reach for the tiny velvet box in his pocket.

"Sorry it isn’t red-flavored," he says dryly, unclasping it to reveal the gold band inside. "Or edible."

In addition to the spotlights, there’s a dozen camera flashes going off. None of it matters, his sole focus on Eddie's deer-in-the-headlights expression.

"Rich," Eddie wheezes. It isn't an asthma attack, though it sounds like one. "What are you doing?"

"About to be shitting my pants on stage." Eddie snorts out a laugh, an effortless reminder of how in love with him Richie is. "But you make me brave."

The creases of his mouth loosen, his eyes wet around the edges. After a year, Eddie still tends to get that look – that look of utter awe. Less now than before, yet it seems that no matter how much or how often he's told, Eddie is awed by being so loved. Luckily, Richie never tires of telling him.

"Eds, I love you more than anything on earth. Will you marry me?"

He barely asks the question before Eddie hauls him to his feet, down into a kiss so hot his glasses fog up.

The audience erupts into deafening applause. Richie doesn't need to hear anything besides the frantic "yes, yes, yes, I love you, you idiot" Eddie’s pressing against his lips. Parting with a firm, wet smack of lips, Richie pulls away before he jumps him there on stage.

"You’ve been a lovely audience, folks!" he exclaims into the mic. "But if you'll excuse us, I've got a proposal to consummate. "

With a wink, Richie bustles Eddie off-stage. They make it past the curtain before he’s got Eddie hiked up against the wall.

Eddie paws at his shirt, while Richie’s slide towards the swell of his ass. "Can’t wait to get you out of these clothes, God, Eds," he moans reverently, raking his eyes over his fiancé – hang on. "Is that my shirt?"

"Is that my ring?" Eddie fires back. He’s smirking, though, and oh, without a shadow of a doubt, he was getting laid after the show, proposal or no.

"All yours, baby." Richie takes the hint nonetheless, slipping the ring on Eddie’s finger, where it belongs. He can’t resist another kiss, this one longer, sweeter.

"I was always yours," Eddie murmurs once they’ve parted, cheeks pleasantly flushed. "All you had to do was ask."

And it’s shit like that, confessions of love spoken so plainly, without the conflict that’s ruled most of their lives, that reminds Richie how lucky they are to have each other.

They are also a huge pain in each other’s ass, so, "Does that mean I should return the ring?"

"Fuck no," Eddie scoffs. "I’m wearing it forever. And tonight, for sure."

"It’ll be the only thing I wear tonight," he adds, a sultry whisper against in Richie’s ear.

He really is the luckiest man, ever.

[reddie-fangirl24]

“What’s she got I don’t have?” Richie !!

NOTE: @november-hydrangea​‘s request ‘Don’t you dance?’ is also in this piece. I hope you enjoy it!

Support me on my Ko-Fi!

“Don’t you dance?” Richie snickered leaning against the doorframe to Eddie’s room. All afternoon, Eddie was trying to rehearse and copy movements of dancers doing the waltz on Youtube. He was not used to the dating game. This woman who he chatted back and forth with online would not stop talking about dancing.

Exasperated, Eddie groaned. “It’s yet another ‘Myra wouldn’t let me do this’ story, Rich.”

“Thanks for sparing me the details!” Richie chuckled, walking into the room. “Come on, let a pro teach you the basics.”

“You’re going to teach me how to dance?” Eddie asked, looking at his friend like he was crazy.

“Yes,” Richie stated matter of factly. 

“You?”

“Again, yes.”

“You?”

“Is there an echo in here? I am not going to let you embarrass yourself in front of that chick? Uh-uh!” Richie shook his head. “Eddie Kaspbrak is going to be on fire tonight!”

“I still can’t believe that you are going to teach me to dance. You can’t run without your groin muscle giving out,” Eddie retorted.

Richie twirled around on one foot, stuck his chin in the air, and made a ‘humf’ noise. “Guess you don’t want me to show you.”

“No, no, I’m sorry!” He called out, grabbing Richie’s shoulder. “I’m nervous.”

“I would be too with what you’re wearing.”

“Lay off, you asshole! Besides, like you’re one to talk!”

Richie gave him a warning look, but he was still smiling. “Give me your hand.”

Hesitating, Eddie slowly touched his hand. Richie’s hands were bigger than his. The way their hands hugged reminded him of that time when they challenged each other to an arm wrestle match. Unlike that time, Richie’s hands were softer. He was a gentle giant. 

“Come closer,” Richie told him.

“How close?” 

“You are so lame to have never danced before!”

“Would you just show me how to dance?”

“Okay, okay, then come closer to me!”

Eddie stepped closer. Their chests were touching, He could feel the heat of Richie’s breath. It gave his skin goosebumps. 

“Since you’re going to lead, put your hand on my hip,” Richie instructed.

Feeling time stop, Eddie felt his throat closing up. He avoided his friend’s eyes hoping that he wouldn’t notice his blushing cheeks. Little did he know that Richie’s heart was beating deep within its chamber. Dancing with Eddie Kaspbrak was a dream, though he’d probably run away if the former ever learned that.

“Okay, so watch my feet. You step back with your left, I’ll move my right foot forward, and then we both move left. Good!” Richie told Eddie with a bright smile. Smiling softly, Eddie wasn’t used to compliments for some reason. 

“Now, almost like the last time, you move your right foot back, and then I’ll move my left foot forward with yours. You’re getting it, Eds. Let’s speed it up now!”

Even though there was no music in the room, Eddie heard the most romantic music drift in the air. Richie’s blue eyes were so enticing. They waltzed in circles around the bedroom, standing close together, never breaking contact. 

“Ready for a twirl?” Richie asked him, playfully.

Before Eddie could ask any questions, Richie took him and spun him in a circle. Yelping in surprise, Eddie laughed, having the time of his life. And then Richie dipped him to the floor. He clung to his neck tightly, giggling. 

“Don’t worry, I got you Eds,” Richie assured him, holding him tightly.

“Wow,” Eddie said looking up at Richie with these big eyes.

“What is it?” Richie asked curiously, hoping that Eddie was feeling what he was feeling. He was so overcome that he wanted to capture Eddie’s lips in a kiss. How were Eddie’s brown eyes so beautiful in this lighting.

“Uh... I never realized how many fillings you had,” Eddie saved himself. Oh, what would his best friend think if he admitted that he was in love with him?

Oh, guess he should have seen that one coming. Richie tried to smile but he knew that it was quite possibly the worst fake smile he could ever muster. Well, maybe the time where he completely blanked on all his jokes was the worst. Who was he kidding? He was forty years old and he still didn’t have the guts to tell Eddie how he truly felt. 

Just then, Eddie’s phone buzzed. “Oh, she’s looking for me. I should get going. Quick, how do I look?”

Richie looked him up and down, admiring the suit that fit around his body nicely. Again, he inwardly sighed, wishing he was the one to take Eddie out. “You look great.”

Blushing, Eddie felt his heart jump. “Thanks. I should get a move on.”

“Hey, what’s got that I don’t?” Richie joked, mimicking one of those tough mobsters that you’d see in the movies.

If only she were you, Eddie thought to himself. “She’s not an asshole.”

Richie smiled lightly. “Have a good night.”

“Thanks.”

[greenornaments]

58. “I’ve been in love with you my entire life. Ever since the day I first met you.” :D

Oooh, thank you so much for this prompt! This takes place post-Ch. 2, they’ve defeated Pennywise and Eddie didn’t die or even get attacked. Enjoy! ^_^

———————————

Richie can’t stop himself from thinking about it; the crippling terror he’d experienced under the clown’s hypnotic spell as he helplessly watched Eddie get impaled above him, unable to do anything but watch, scream, and listen to the deafening cries inside his own head of NO, NO, GOD NO, NOT EDDIE, TAKE ME INSTEAD, PLEASE….

It’s not real. None of it was real. He knows this from the moment he awakens from the Deadlights, dazed and disoriented as Eddie looks down at him and exclaims that he’s done it, he’s killed It, and Richie gets that surge of energy and strength he’s always heard about mothers getting when their child is in danger. It’s enough to propel him to grab onto Eddie and roll both of them out of the way just in time to miss the clown’s vengeful claws. The six of them make it out, fleeing from the house of horrors one after the other, grabbing onto each other in relief and shock as they watch Neibolt crumble into the ground and become nothing more than a bad memory.

And he can’t stop thinking about it. While they walk the quiet streets of Derry in the early dawn. When they reach the quarry, which is now sporting a large sign warning against the diving they’d engaged in so many times as children without a second thought. When they blatantly ignore the sign and dive in anyway, with Eddie grabbing onto his hand before they take the plunge. While they’re swimming around in the opaque water and Eddie is playfully splashing some of it in his direction, the smile on his face more beautiful than all the stars in the sky combined. Especially then.

What would I have done? He thinks to himself as he laughs and splashes him back. If the clown had gotten him and he was gone, what the fuck would I have done?

He’s still thinking about it later that night, as he’s standing in the shower of his rented room at the Derry Townhouse, letting the hot water run over his body and cleanse him once and for all of the scourge of Pennywise and all the misery It had wrought over him and his friends for their entire lives. He’s letting his mind wander, turning over long buried memories that have been barreling at him full force ever since he stepped foot inside Jade of the Orient and saw Eddie for the first time in twenty-seven years, but which he hasn’t allowed himself to fully process until now. Now that he has nothing else to do but think.

He thinks about that summer, of quarries and clubhouses and lazy afternoons spent in a hammock; he thinks about movies and videogames and ice cream; of days spent riding bikes through the streets of town and of hot, still nights reading comics together on Eddie’s bed while trying not to wake up Mrs. Kaspbrak.

He thinks back further, to school trips to the apple orchard, where he and Eddie would pool their pocket money together to share a turnover that Richie would always make sure to take the smaller half of. He thinks of chilly winters; of snowy days spent building snowmen in Richie’s front yard before going inside for piping hot mugs of hot chocolate.

And he thinks back even further still, to the first day of kindergarten, when he was a tiny, nervous ball of anxiety who started crying the minute his mother left, until a brown haired boy with wide eyes as dark as his hair came up to him, smiled, and offered him some dried peaches from a small bag he took from the black fanny pack around his waist.

Fuck, he thinks, the long forgotten truth hitting him as his mind lingers on the R+E he’d carved into the kissing bridge on that long ago summer day. You’ve gotten yourself into a fucking emotional mess now, Rich. You dumb fucking asshole. You shouldn’t have come back here. None of you should have. Forgetting was better, it was always fucking better.

He heaves a sigh and turns the water off, shivering as he steps out of the shower and towels himself off. He’s just finishing putting on fresh clothes when he hears a knock on his door. It’s probably Mike wanting us all to go to brunch or some shit.

He crosses the room and opens the door. It’s not Mike.

“Can I come in?” Eddie asks, even as he’s squeezing past Richie and entering the room anyway.

“Well, since you so politely asked for my permission,” Richie quips, watching Eddie sit on the edge of his bed. He’s also changed his clothes; he’s wearing plaid pajama pants and a plain black sweatshirt that says Tri-State Insurance across the front. It’s a very basic outfit that shouldn’t be and truly isn’t anything special, yet somehow on Eddie it manages to make Richie’s heart thump ever so slightly harder.

Get a fucking grip on yourself.

“To what do I owe this most honorable visit?” Richie asks as he leans against the wall and tries to look like he hasn’t just spent the past half hour reliving every single moment of pining he’s repressed for years.

Eddie looks suddenly uncomfortable, like he’s unsure now of why he’s there. “I… I wanted to talk to you. If you have a minute.”

“Just a minute, I have a hot date with your mom I’m gonna be late for.”

“You do realize my mom is dead, right, asshole?”

Richie swallows down the next joke he was about to make. He actually hadn’t remembered that in all the chaos. “Sorry,” he murmurs, his eyes meeting Eddie’s for the first time since the other man burst into his room. Eddie gazes back at him for the briefest of moments before he closes his eyes and sighs.

“Just… look, this isn’t gonna be easy for me to say,” he begins, opening his eyes back up and focusing them on a vague spot on the wall somewhere to the left of Richie. “But it’s going to bug the shit out of me until I say it, so I’m just going to bite the bullet and fucking go for it, and you don’t even have to respond, I just want to get it off my chest.”

Richie’s stomach drops, and he starts to wonder if he’s done something to piss Eddie off since they’ve reunited. Like, unintentionally. The basis of their entire friendship has always been him playfully trying to get Eddie mad, but Eddie has never really been angry at him. He doesn’t think they’ve ever even had a real fight. But there’s always that seed of doubt, and Richie quickly goes back over every interaction they’ve had in the past couple of days. Did he get mad about me making fun of his job? Maybe I made too many mom jokes, I honestly forgot she’s dead. Ok, maybe I shouldn’t have made those comments about his wife, but come on, he told me himself that their marriage is on the rocks and he’s been emotionally divorced for a long time, so how mad could he possibly-

“Earth to Trashmouth, are you listening to me?”

Fuck. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry. What’s on your mind?” Richie asks, clearing his throat and trying to do the same to his mind as he focuses back on Eddie, who takes a deep breath and begins speaking.

“Richie… back there, in the sewers, when… when the fucking clown had you in those Deadlights, I knew I had to do something to save you, cause no shit, right, you’re one of my best friends, so of course I did, but… but for some reason I also kind of felt like… like you being attacked by Pennywise was a personal attack on me? Sort of? Like… fuck… all I could think of was how I froze up when that spider fuck was attacking you, and how I had to make up for that, but also how… Ugh… I don’t know how to phrase this,” Eddie whines, rubbing a hand over his face as he focuses his eyes back on the wall, avoiding eye contact with Richie.

“It’s like… if it was any of the others up there, of course I would also try to help them if I could, but it wouldn’t…. it wouldn’t feel like so much of a personal thing, if that makes sense? The clown getting you, specifically, just really pissed me off. And when you dropped down I was so worried about you, like, were you ok? Were you hurt? I thought back to when we were kids, you know, when Bev was in the lights and Ben had to kiss her, and I thought… is that what you needed, too? Was I going to have to do that? But then you woke up and I was relieved, Rich, I was so relieved, but I was also… I don’t know… disappointed. I was actually disappointed that you didn’t need a kiss to wake up, and god, Richie, ever since we got out of that fucking house that’s all I’ve been able to think about. Why it is that I was so, so disappointed.”

Richie’s heart is pounding now, the steady thump of its beat echoing in his ears as all of his blood rushes to his head and makes him feel dizzy. Is Eddie saying what he thinks he’s saying? He can’t be, this isn’t real, it’s a dream, he’s still in the Deadlights and he’s going to wake up any second and they’re still going to be in that godforsaken sewer.

“Richie.”

“What?” Richie barely manages to choke out as Eddie finally makes eye contact with him. Every part of him is bursting to come out and say what he’s been holding back for days, for years, but he’s terrified.

“I don’t know how else to say this, but I… I think…”

“Eddie, I love you.” The words leave his mouth before he can stop them, and the minute they do his stomach flips, waves of nausea threatening to make him let loose right there on the bedroom floor, but somehow, using unimaginable strength he doesn’t even know he has in him, he manages to keep himself just barely under control enough to not completely ruin this moment.

Eddie blinks, his cheeks turning a brilliant shade of crimson. “Say that again?” He says it in a shocked whisper, his eyes wide as saucers as he looks at Richie in disbelief.

“I said I love you,” Richie repeats, finding it easier to say the second time now that the worst is over. He might as well let it all out, there’s no going back now. “I do, I love you so fucking much. I’ve been in love with you my entire life. Ever since the day I first met you. And that’s all that’s been on my mind since I got that fucking phone call from Mike. That’s what went through my head as soon as I saw the number pop up on my phone. You.” He feels his cheeks growing hot from the adrenaline and pure relief of that crushing weight coming off of his chest.

Eddie’s shoulders are heaving with the intensity of the breaths he’s taking as his dark eyes bore into Richie’s. The next thing Richie knows, he’s watching Eddie get up off the bed and cross over to him, stopping close to him but, agonizingly, not even remotely close enough.

“Say it again,” he demands, his eyes flashing.

“I love you.”

“Again.” Eddie is slowly closing the space between them.

“I. Love. You.”

“One more time.” He’s practically pressed up against him now, and Richie is about 80% sure he’s about to actually faint.

“I’m in love with you, you little shit-“

His words are cut off by the gentle press of soft lips against his, and his brain short-circuits and goes completely offline. It’s so much, it’s too much, it’s not enough, it’s Eddie, it’s literally everything Richie has ever dreamed of, it’s the moment he often stayed up for entire nights fantasizing about, it’s what he always assumed he would never experience, and here it was, as real as the press of Eddie’s warm, breathing, very much alive body pinning him against the wall.

Their lips part and they look at each other, breathing heavily. Eddie’s eyes are blown black, his lips are cherry red and his cheeks are scarlet. He’s so close that Richie can actually feel the thumping of the other man’s heart against his chest.

“I love you too, asshole,” says Eddie, smiling before crashing their lips back together.

[fangirl-imagines]

Home Again//2019!Eddie Kaspbrak x Daughter!Reader

A/N: Requested by @thoughtfullyyoungduck, I hope this was close to what you wanted.

Warnings: Verbal berating of the reader and a brief but graphic scene of violence against the reader

Prompt: Ever since your mom left when you were five it had just been you and your dad. You were each other’s only family. But when he brings you back to his hometown of Derry you decide it’s time to meet your grandmother. 

The house your father grew up inside in Derry, Maine didn’t look like it had been touched much since the 1980s. Most of Derry still felt small and quiet like the rest of the world forgotten it. As you drove through town to your hotel yesterday your dad kept shaking his head and remarking on how everything still looked the same. You knew he’d be furious if he found out you came here but you couldn’t help yourself. 

You had never met your grandparents before and your dad never talked about his childhood. Could he really expect you to pass up the opportunity to ask questions he never answered? This morning he said he had to go meet some of his old friends, the ones you had met last night at dinner, and he explicitly told you to stay in the hotel room. You rolled your eyes thinking about it. Your dad had always been overprotective. Maybe it was because he was just an anxious person? Always on you about being home before dark and getting your flue shot. Maybe it was because your mom left when you were five and it was just the two of you? You knew it was hard on him trying to take care of both of you all the time all by himself. Or maybe it was just because he worked nights so often and he worried about you being home alone? Either way it was always getting on your nerves. You’d long gotten use to sneaking out when your dad was gone, and sneaking out of the hotel was easy. 

The old Kaspbrak house looked like most other houses on the street. It was small and white with a decent porch. The only real difference was that the lawn was shaggy and in desperate need of a mowing and the curtains were all drawn, keeping the light out of the house. If it wasn’t for the station wagon in the driveway you would have thought there was no one home. You took a deep breath before starting up the walk and climbing the stairs. You hesitated before bringing your hand down on the door in two quick knocks.Glancing behind your shoulder you took in the empty street. It was a Sunday morning but there was no one in the streets, no children playing or dad’s mowing the lawn.

“Who are you?”

You jumped and whirled back around, coming face to face with a much larger old woman. You couldn’t help but gasp at the sight. She wasn’t much taller than you, her hair was dark brown with grey roots showing, and there were prominent wrinkles around her eyes, the same shade of brown as yours and your dad’s. Sonia Kapbrak looked you up and down with distance, studying you closely. You cleared your throat and took a small step back. 

“I’m, uh, are you Sonia Kaspbrak?”

“I am.” She crossed her arms in front of her. 

“Well, my name is Y/N Kaspbrak. My father is Eddie Kaspbrak. I’m your granddaughter.”

You don't know what kind of reaction you were expecting, but Sonia staring you down through squinted eyes that hid in her full face and made them look black in appearance was not it. She stared at you hard, looking you over from head to toe as if sizing you up. It made you shift nervously from foot to foot in your spot. Was she like this when your dad was a kid? Your entire life your dad had always looked happy to see you when you came home from school or walked into the kitchen in the morning, he always smiled at you warmly. Even when he was mad at you, you never got a look like this one. But now you could picture him as a little kid getting in trouble and getting stared down on this same porch. What was she looking for?! You folded your arms across your middle and fought back a flinch when Sonia smiled at you. 

"Oh, really? My Eddie Bear is a father?! I'd be surprised he never told me except he never calls me at all anymore. You raise them up as best you can, and then they run off and leave you, never to call, never showing any gratitude!" She threw her hands up in the air then shook her head. "Please, why don't you come inside?"

You opened your mouth to decline, suddenly not too sure about this whole thing but Sonia looked at you expectantly and the words died in your mouth. Wordlessly you stepped into the house and were surprised to find the darkness that had surrounded the house had moved inside as well. Sonia didn’t seem bothered by it though as she didn’t move to turn on any lights when she led you to the living room. The blinds were cracked in the living room, allowing dim rays of light to enter the room and work with the old boxed, bunny eared TV to shine enough light to make the room dim but light enough to see. 

“Go on, have a seat.” 

You sat down stiffly on the edge of the sofa, so far that you were almost falling off. 

“Would you like a drink? I have sodas or bottled water? You can’t drink the stuff from the tap anymore. Too much lead and chemicals in it.”

���Oh, no I’m fine, thank you.”

Sonia nodded and sat down in her recliner next to the couch and smiled at you. A flash of red caught your eye. You glanced over at one of the windows and caught a glimpse of a red balloon floating by. You narrowed your eyes as you watched it go. 

“So, Y/N, you’re my granddaughter?”

You turned back to Sonia and nodded, forcing a smile. “I have so many questions for you! My dad doesn’t talk about Derry very much.”

Sonia hummed, “Well I’m not surprised. Eddie bear hasn’t so much as called since he left me here. I suppose he’s done alright for himself though?” She looked at you strangely, sizing you up again. “Tell me, what’s your mother like?”

You swallowed hard, “I’m afraid I don’t know much.” You cleared your throat. “She left us when I was five. We haven’t kept in touch.”

You could practically see Sonia’s ears perk up. “Really?” She laughed humorlessly, “Well, I guess I can see why.”

Your jaw dropped. “Ex-, Excuse me?”

“Well obviously it couldn’t be my Eddie’s fault she left so it must have been your fault.” 

“You don’t-”

“Of course I know dear!” she shook her head, “I knew when you stepped on my porch. Look at you? Your filthy just like your mother, holding my Eddie back, keeping him anchored with a child to take care of on his own? You should be ashamed.”

A cold dread filled your stomach and gripped your body. You had heard these words before, your own brain screamed them at you in your bed at night like a flashing sign. Somehow Sonia was on the same wavelength as you. 

“Why are you saying these things?” You choked out, willing away your tears.

“Because it’s the truth isn’t it? All alone with a child to take care of, how could you do anything but hold your father back! Just think of all the things he could do if he wasn’t stuck taking care of you.” Sonia shook her head pityingly, “I suppose that’s what he gets for leaving me all alone here though. A disappointment of a daughter like you.”

You shook your head at her, “I think I should go now.”

“Oh, dear, you’re not going anywhere.” 

You stared at Sonia, eye brows furrowed. Sonia smiled. You jumped up from the couch and raced for the door faster than you had ever moved in your life. You didn’t expect Sonia to be able to move fast enough to grab you but she did. She grabbed you by your hair and pulled you back into the room, tossing you to the floor. She smiled down at you, rows and rows of sharp, pointed teeth showing. 

You screamed and ear splitting scream, crawling back on your hands until your back hit the wall. Sonia smiled wider and rushed towards you. Your foot connected with her face with a sickening crack as her head shot back. You watched in horror as she slowly righted her head and snapped it back into place. You screamed and screamed when Sonia crouched down in front of you, grabbing your hand as you tried to shove her away. She brought your hand closer to her mouth before- 

“Y/N!” 

You and Sonia’s eyes both flicked back to the front door that you could hear your name being screamed and the front door shaking as someone tried to knock it down. Sonia turned back to you and smiled through thin, yellow eyes that made you flinch. Her grin widened, showing off every one of her sharp teeth, and with a shake of her head she let go of your hand and stalked backwards from you before disappearing into the kitchen. 

You stared at the spot where she had disappeared through in horror when the front door was kicked in and your father, Richie, and Mike all came running into the room, Beverly, Ben, and Bill trailing behind. 

“Y/N?! Y/N, baby, oh my God!” Your dad rushed to your side and dropped to his knees in front of you. He grabbed your face in his hands and pulled your gaze from the kitchen door to look at him. “Y/N? Are you okay?! Are you hurt?!” 

You continued to stare at him, shock and horror still playing on your face as he ran his hands from your face to your wrist, checking for broken bones. He looked so worried as he checked you over that Sonia’s words rang through your head again. “Just think of all the things he could do if he wasn’t stuck taking care of you?” 

A sob escaped your throat, “Dad?” 

He paused and looked from your wrist where Sonia had squeezed up to your face. He saw your bottom lip tremble and felt his racing heart break. “Oh, baby.” He pulled you to him and hugged you tight. As soon as he did this you began to cry against his shoulder, clutching his jacket in your fist. “It can’t hurt you anymore Y/N. I’m right here, I’m not going to let it hurt you again.” He squeezed you tighter and kissed your forehead. 

“Dad, she-, it-, it’s teeth...”

Eddie swallowed back the memory of those teeth inching in on his at the Nesboit house. He realized you had been in that same position and felt sick. He pulled back to look you in the eyes and nodded. 

“I know. I’m sorry Y/N, I never should have brought you back here with me.”

“It’s gone Eddie, we better get her out of here.” Richie spoke softly, placing his hand on Eddie’s shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. 

Eddie looked up at him and nodded. Carefully he helped you to your feet and led you out of the house, his arm wrapped around your shoulder protectively. 

[bimbopossum]

i know it’s hard to tell (but i think i really like you)

pairing: riche tozier/eddie kaspbrak

warnings: swearing (i think) + a few gross jokes

word count: 3383

summary: In an attempt to fight his feelings for Richie, Eddie makes a list of everything he doesn't like about him. And then, unknowingly, Richie spends a week proving every single one of them wrong.

read on ao3!

“I don’t like Richie,” Eddie says, out loud. He’s alone in his room, and he’s talking to no one in particular. In all honesty, the only person he needs to convince of that fact is himself; no one else would even dare to ask.

“I don’t like Richie,” he says again, louder this time. He stands from his desk chair, and walks to the chalkboard hanging on his wall.

“I don’t like Richie,” he repeats once more. He picks up a piece of chalk and brings it to the board, his hand hovering. He writes.

I don’t like Richie.

It doesn’t feel like enough. He makes a fist and rubs off the words with the side of his hand. He writes again.

WHY I don’t like Richie:

And, well. He makes a list. It comes easily, because frankly, Richie is the worst. He’s crass, and crude, and he’s a boy; he’s the exact opposite of what Eddie would consider “his type.” There’s no way he could ever, ever like anyone like Richie.

1. He’s gross.

Eddie thinks back to the time, the very same day, when Richie ran up to him, tackling him in a bear hug. The gesture was sweet, and Eddie’s first reaction was in the form of his stomach swooping to his feet. That was, until he caught a whiff of the taller boy’s armpit.

“Oh my god, Richie! You stink!” He had yelled, pushing him away.

The sentence on the chalkboard is punctuated with a nod from the small boy who wrote it. Yeah. Richie is gross. He doesn’t even wear deodorant.

2. His jokes.

The worst offense in this category was a few weeks ago, on a class trip to the zoo. Eddie was mesmerized by the elephants. He watched the giant, gentle creatures in awe and therefore, fell for the trap that was Richie’s question.

“Hey Eds, what do you do when you come across an elephant?”

Snapping out of his daze, Eddie turned to the boy.

“Huh?” He said.

The instant regret filled his mind as he saw a smug smile make its way onto Richie’s face.

“Apologize and wipe it off.”

There was a beat of silence. Then, the sound of Eddie’s hand smacking the skin of Richie’s arm, and a cry of “oh my god, that’s not even funny! you’re so fucking gross.”

Eddie rolls his eyes at the memory. It’s still a horrible joke, and a completely valid reason to put on his chalkboard.

3. He’s not cute.

Eddie knows it’s harsh, but c’mon. He knows he’s right. His mind fills with gangly limbs, and broken glasses pieced back together with white tape, and hawaiian shirts with colorful shorts that don’t match and big, stinky feet covered in patterned socks that kick him whenever they can and yeah. Richie is not cute. His hair flies around his face and his eyes always look far too big because of his glasses. He’s not cute, even for a boy.

4. He doesn’t take anything seriously.

There’s too many examples for this one. Every time Eddie is sad and Richie makes some comment about fucking his mom, every time Stan is talking about birds and Richie interrupts him to ask “what kind of bird gives the best head,” every time Bill is stuttering and Richie makes fun of him even though it’s clear that he’s struggling. Richie is always toomuchtoomuchtoomuch and notknowingwhentostop.

And that’s why Eddie does not like him.

The next day, the Losers meet up at the arcade, and Eddie’s holding out on the hope that he’ll convince someone to get ice cream with him. He’s the last one to show up, and when Richie spots him heading their way, he immediately barrels toward Eddie to engulf him in another bear hug. Eddie’s chest rushes with blood as the tall boy holds onto him, and he wrinkles his nose in anticipation for the stench of his armpits. But it doesn’t come.

“Are you…” he trails off. Sniff. “Are you wearing deodorant?” Eddie asks, as Richie’s arms return to his side. Richie chuckles.

“I figured it was time I get a new signature scent. Whaddya think?” He asks. He even goes as far to lift his arm and offer the smell to Eddie’s unsuspecting nose. To his own surprise, Eddie actually takes another whiff. His face fills with color.

“Not bad,” he shrugs. Richie slings an arm around his shoulder, and Eddie can’t deny that it’s nice to not have to smell the boy’s B.O. as they walk.

Hours later, when the Losers have all returned home and Eddie and Richie have finished their ice cream (because of course Eddie was able to convince him), the small boy walks up to the chalkboard in his room and bashfully strikes a line through the first point on his list.

He’s gross.

“Hey Eds, wanna hear a joke?” Richie asks, in the same excitable way he always does—as if he’s a child looking for approval from an adult.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “No, I wanna keep studying, fuckface.”

The textbook on his lap is seemingly being used, but in reality, Eddie doesn’t know a word of what he’s read in the last 10 minutes. He honestly would like to hear a joke, even a horrible Richie joke; anything to distract him from covalent bonds. But he would never tell Richie that.

“C’mon, please? It’s really funny, I promise,” the boy pleads.

“You said that about the cannibal joke last week,” Eddie deadpans.

“That joke was hilarious!”

Eddie takes a deep breath, and immediately regrets even answering Richie’s question in the first place.

“The fact that you still think so is exactly why I don’t want to hear another one.”

“Please, Eds?” He begs, putting on his best puppy dog eyes. Eddie groans.

“God, fine! What is it?”

Richie’s face lights up, and it almost makes it worth the horrible joke Eddie’s about to hear.

“Apparently, every 52 seconds, someone in London is stabbed. Poor bastard.”

Eddie blinks. Then, as if surprising himself, a laugh bubbles out of his throat. He smacks a hand over his mouth, shocked that he actually found one of Richie’s jokes funny. Richie just stares as he laughs, just as surprised that he’s entertained. It’s a really simple joke, and it’s kind of dumb, but. It’s not about dicks or having sex with Sonia Kaspbrak and it’s… a little bit smart, at the same time, too? In a way that Richie never is. And it’s funny. Richie told a genuinely funny joke. As Eddie’s giggles die down, Richie has the most proud look on his face and he doesn’t even look smug about it at all. He just looks happy. And Eddie makes a mental note to laugh at more of his jokes now, even if they suck, if only so he can see that pleased little smile on the boy’s face again.

He also makes a mental note to strike through the second bullet point on his chalkboard when he gets home.

His jokes.

The next day, Eddie goes to meet the Losers in the front lot at school, like he does every other morning. The only person there so far is Ben, and they immediately fall into comfortable conversation. Eddie was always a bit awkward around Ben in the beginning, even though he couldn’t place his finger on why. Now, though, it’s like he’s been a part of the group forever.

They talk for a few minutes, while the others start to show up. Ten minutes pass, and the only person who hasn’t arrived yet is Richie. His conversation with Ben dies down, and he starts picking at a loose thread on his shorts to pass the time. After another moment, he hears a shout from beside him, and feels the weight of a body plopping down on the bench next to him.

“Good morning, Spaghetti!” Richie says. Eddie lazily moves his gaze to the boy sitting next to him, as if to seem unamused, but his breath catches as soon as he sees him.

Richie is just beaming at him, in the way he always does, as if there’s nothing different. Nothing changed, nothing new, nothing to make Eddie’s heart literally jump to his throat at the sight of him.

“You, um…” Eddie breathes. He clears his throat and attempts to make his voice as even as possible. “You got new glasses,” he says, barely above a whisper. No one around them seems to be fazed by this development, but Eddie thinks he could die.

Richie smiles even wider. “I did! What do you think? My prescription changed so I decided to trade the old frames in for a younger model,” he says. He reaches behind his ears and presses on the legs of the glasses, making them move up and down on his face.

These new glasses—they’re thinner, more rounded instead of square. They’re still a bit big for Richie’s face, but in a way that suits his features as opposed to swallowing them. The most drastic change, Eddie thinks, is how much older Richie looks in them. There’s no tape holding them together, and they frame his face in a way that makes his brow look stronger, and his nose a bit thinner. He looks good.

“They’re…cool. I like them,” he chokes out.

And, if all this wasn’t enough kindling for the “torturing Eddie” fire, the first bell rings at this moment, causing Richie to stand from the bench. Eddie catches a good look at what he’s wearing for the first time, and his mouth goes dry. A dark green t-shirt is tucked into a pair of light jeans that sit high on Richie’s waist. The bottoms are cuffed, showing his thin ankles, where a pair of colorful socks peek out of his sneakers. The drastic change from hawaiian shirts and cutoff shorts that fray at the bottom is enough to make Eddie’s knees weak.

Eddie thinks his intention is to ask a question, but when his mouth opens, all that comes out is a choked “clothes?”

Richie looks puzzled for a moment, until he looks down and registers what Eddie is saying.

“Oh! My cousin gave me some of his old clothes he doesn’t wear anymore,” he shrugs. All of the other Losers have left the area, making their way to their first classes, but Eddie stays on the bench for another moment, catching his breath and attempting to collect his thoughts.

Oh my god, he thinks. I was so, so wrong.

He’s not cute.

Eddie doesn’t cry often. You’d think he would—he’s always been kind of sensitive, the kind of boy who doesn’t complain when the class is reading Romeo and Juliet because he secretly really enjoys it. He’s sensitive, but he makes a point of not crying as much as would be expected of him. He’s not weak willed, and he’s not a crybaby. There’s a difference.

But everyone cries sometimes, right?

It was his mom. He came home late from studying with Bev and Sonia got mad. She must have screamed for 20 minutes straight. The loud, shrill tone of her voice combined with the harsh words she was spitting just cut into Eddie like a hot knife—not to mention the mean things she was saying about Bev. When Sonia was done with her attack, and convinced by the look on Eddie’s face that he wouldn’t do such a thing again, she sent him to his room without letting him get a word in. Which was for the best, because no matter how much he wanted to explode at her, and say all the things he’s been wanting to say for years, he knows that if given the chance, he’d freeze. Mouth closed and chest tight, he’d mutter out “I’m sorry, Mommy,” and do as he’s told. He thinks that’s part of why he’s crying.

He can’t be very loud, or his mom will hear, so his face is pressed into a pillow as he sobs. He guesses that this is all the tears he’s held in for however long it’s been, and now that the gates are open it’s hard to stop.

He doesn’t hear the first tap. The second one is a bit louder, enough for the noise to register in his mind but not enough for him to realize someone is trying to get his attention. The third one is a loud rapping, clearly on his window. He snaps his head up to see Richie, leaning his lanky body as far as it will go off of the tree next to his bedroom window. Eddie quickly wipes his face, as if there was any chance in hiding what he was just doing. He scrambles over to the window and opens it.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, his voice thick with tears.

Richie’s brows are furrowed. “Let me in,” he says softly.

Eddie doesn’t have it in him to protest. And besides, the boy is literally about to fall out of the tree. He opens the latch more, to make a space large enough for Richie to fit through without getting squished. He eventually stumbles in, landing on his feet with whatever the opposite of grace is. His eyes are immediately filled with concern.

“What’s wrong, why are you crying?” He asks, putting a hand on Eddie’s arm.

“It was just my mom, it’s whatever,” Eddie sniffs. “Why are you here?”

Richie hesitates. “Bev called. She said you left a binder at her house so she called here and your mom answered…and that someone should check to see if you were okay.”

Eddie cringes. “So my mom yelled at her?” He asks, already knowing the answer.

Richie doesn’t respond, but the silence is answer enough. Eddie feels tears start to burn behind his eyes again, and he squeezes them shut before they can fall. His fists press into the sockets of his eyes, willing himself to not cry in front of Richie. But he takes a deep breath in, and on the exhale, his body lets out a strangled sob against his own will.

He immediately feels Richie’s arms wrap around him, and the light pressure of being pushed towards his bed. As he sits down, he lets himself fall into Richie, shaking and crying as hard as he ever has. The tears are falling freely, now, not being pushed in by his fists or his own mind. And it feels a lot better to cry into Richie’s chest than it did to cry into his pillow. He curls into himself, forming a ball as he’s rocked by the boy holding him. One of Richie’s hands is in his hair, petting his head. The other is rubbing up and down his back in a soothing motion. There’s a quiet whisper, too. In a hushed voice, Richie is repeating himself over and over.

“Shh,” he says. “It’ll be okay. You’re okay.”

Soon after Eddie registers these words, his tears are slowing down. His hands stop shaking as fiercely, and his breathing evens out just a little bit more. Once his state of mind is regained, he can’t help but feel embarrassed.

“I’m sorry,” he says, pulling himself out of Richie’s arms. Richie lets him go, but he keeps a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, rubbing his thumb up and down on the boy’s collarbone absently.

“Don’t be sorry,” he murmurs, keeping his gaze on Eddie’s face even as the other avoids his eye.

Eddie sniffles, but doesn’t say anything else.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Richie probes.

Eddie shrugs. “It’s nothing, I just-“ he cuts himself off as he feels a lump form in his throat once more. “I really hate my mom sometimes.”

Richie nods sympathetically and pulls Eddie into his chest again. He presses his cheek to the top of Eddie’s curls, and for a moment, they just breathe together. After a few minutes of this, Richie breaks the silence.

“Look, Eds, about your mom,” he says, pulling back to look at Eddie’s face.

Eddie exhales sharply through his nose. “I really don’t wanna hear an ‘I fucked your mom’ joke right now, Rich,” he mumbles.

Richie is stunned quiet for just a second. “I wasn’t going to make one.”

Eddie blinks. “Oh.”

“I was just gonna say that I’m sorry, and that she shouldn’t treat you that way. It’s shitty.”

Eddie almost cries again. Not because he’s upset about his mom this time, but because this is Richie. Richie is sitting in front of him, being honest, and genuine, and not making any jokes at Eddie’s expense and holding him when he’s sad and Eddie could just about die. Because god, he likes Richie so, so much. And now, Richie is just staring at him, holding his arm so gently it’s like he thinks he’ll break it if he’s too firm, and Eddie can’t help the words that tumble out of his mouth.

“I wanna show you something,” he says, standing up. He walks across the room, causing Richie to turn his body around completely, facing the chalkboard that had been previously (and conveniently) out of his view.

WHY I don’t like Richie:

1. He’s gross.

2. His jokes.

3. He’s not cute.

4. He doesn’t take anything seriously.

Richie’s eyes scan the words for a few seconds, and he gets up to join Eddie in front of the board.

His expression is unreadable as he stares, and every second that goes by without a word makes Eddie’s heart pound faster and faster.

Richie visibility swallows, and he brings his arms up to cross them in front of his chest.

“Wow, Eds,” he says, a weak smile on his lips. “This is…mean.”

It’s clear that he’s trying to seem unbothered, but it’s also clear that he is very, very bothered. Eddie picks up the piece of chalk underneath it and strikes a line through the last sentence.

He doesn’t take anything seriously.

Richie follows the movement with his eyes. He doesn’t uncross his arms.

“I know,” Eddie says. “I’m sorry.”

Richie just shrugs. “It’s whatever,” he murmurs. “I’m kind of confused. But it’s fine.”

Eddie’s face looks pained, like Richie’s words are physically harmful to him. “I just. I tried so hard to convince myself that I…” He trails off, gesturing vaguely.

“But I was wrong,” he continues, his voice a bit stronger. “That’s why they’re all crossed out. You didn’t even know I made the list but you proved me wrong for every single one.”

Richie’s eyebrows raise minutely, and he uncrosses his arms in exchange for lifting a hand towards the board, in a question.

“Wait, when it says you don’t like me, that means-“

“Yeah,” Eddie cuts him off. “It means.”

Eddie thinks he must look terrified.

Richie turns to make searing eye contact with the boy next to him.

“But…you said you were wrong. So that means-“

“Yeah,” Eddie says, in a bit of a choked laugh. “That means, too.”

The look on Richie’s face is hard to read, but Eddie is hopeful, if only for the fact that Richie is still standing in front of him.

“Eds,” he whimpers. And before Eddie can even think to respond, Richie is pressing forward and closing their mouths together in a kiss. His hands come up to hold Eddie’s cheeks in his palms, and Eddie thinks he might explode.

Under their own volition, Eddie’s arms snake themselves around Richie’s neck, threading his fingers in dark curls as their lips move together. The kiss itself only lasts a few seconds, but when they pull away, Eddie is breathless.

They’re both quiet in the seconds after their lips part, neither knowing quite what to say or how to say it.

But, of course, Richie always knows how to break a silence.

“Would you mind erasing that list?” He says. Eddie laughs, and just nods his head, before untangling his hands from Richie’s hair and moving to grab the rag beside the board. Richie follows him, wrapping his arms around the boy’s waist from behind and resting his chin on his shoulder. He watches as Eddie erases the words on the board, maneuvering the rag around certain areas at the top, so all but 3 words are wiped clean.

        I         like Richie.

[billhaderlovebot]

beep beep (4) - richie tozier

some sexy stuff, swearing, angst, the usual. i don't know how many more parts there are going to be but if 5 is the last one then prepare for a Big Boy™

@ceruleanrainblues @the-star-above-you @a-second-hand-sorrow @shockwavee

----

the divorce was messy. timothy took pretty much everything on the grounds that you had run off with another man (which you thought was pretty fair) and he also had slandered your name in front of your whole family in court, which was actually quite petty of him. richie almost murdered him, that day, and had to keep his hand in yours so that he wouldn't get up and break timothy's nose again right in front of his big-shot lawyer.

your family, it was safe to say, did not approve of richie, because timothy was always such a nice boy, and you've made a terrible mistake, dear. the only one who ever did like richie was your grandmother, and she was long gone, bless her cotton socks.

so, yeah, you'd run off with richie.

yeah, you'd escaped from an unhappy marriage in which you never felt loved to be with someone who looked at you like you hung the fucking moon.

okay, granted, you did sleep with richie that night, which wasn't entirely moral, considering you were married to another man, but, yknow, timothy hadn't gone anywhere near you in months and months, and richie was just so good at the sex thing.

also, you loved him. so much.

leaving you with barely enough money to pay your hospital bills sucked. you weren't even sure how timothy was able to do that legally.

but it was alright. you took your stuff and moved into richie's penthouse apartment in malibu almost as soon as you'd been discharged from the hospital. he had made enough money over the first half of his trash-mouth tour to support the both of you for the time being, and he cancelled the reno dates, and all the dates for the foreseeable, because all he wanted to do was be around you and the rest of the losers.

your books and mugs and weird stuff that you'd hoarded over the years slowly spread themselves around richie's apartment, and it made him so happy because it was so utterly domestic.

whenever he saw your shoes in the hallway or your toothbrush in the weird ceramic holder with a bee on it that bev had bought him, he grinned like a stupid, lovestruck idiot, because he was a stupid, lovestruck idiot.

eddie came over a lot, regularly crashing in the spare bedroom because he, too was going through a divorce, and myra kaspbrak was quite a bit more intimidating than timothy. so, that became eddie's room while he was looking for his own apartment.

and you were so fucking happy.

the piece of string that had been serving as your engagement ring after richie proposing on a whim was a constant reminder of how loved you were, and you tied a matching one around his finger, because you didn't feel it was fair that he got to do the whole cute proposal thing.

it had been six months since derry. since the sewers, since defeating IT for the final time. since reuniting with your soulmate. you were sure that life couldn't get better.

eventually, you'd gotten an actual ring.

richie had given it to you on a whim, as usual, opening the little ring box in your direction while you were both surrounded by chinese food, the fourth consecutive episode of snapped playing in the background.

you had choked on your wok-fried garlic and soy broccoli, and he'd thumped your back so you wouldn't almost die, again, which hurt your recovering shoulder, and then he had panicked, and you were crying and laughing and choking all at the same time.

point is, he had given you a ring.

it was a thin, gold band with three little diamonds set into the middle, and you had immediately fallen in love with it.

you hadn't, however, wanted to take off the piece of string, so you wore it on the same finger as the proper engagement ring. richie was relieved because he also hadn't wanted to take the string off.

that night, after some really really great celebration sex, (albeit a little careful, as you sometimes got sharp pains up and down your ribs if you exerted yourself too much) richie bared his soul to you.

he told you everything.

and he cried, and he trembled because he was so scared of ending things with you before they had even begun.

it was the first time he had ever said it out loud.

"i'm bisexual."

and he had let out a breath, then. a breath that he had been holding in for almost three decades.

"oh, richie." and you held him to you without a second thought.

you had always known, somehow.

you'd known, for the same reason one knows the sun has risen. because you had eyes.

you'd seen how richie had always gravitated towards eddie, always grabbing onto him in moments of distress, the soft looks richie would give him when he didn't have time to put up his walls. you knew, and you loved him all the same. of course you did.

you didn't tell him, however, that you had known.

because this moment was so important. the moment where he finally had control over his life and his identity and he was spilling his heart out to you. you would not take that away from him.

this was his time. his moment. his life.

he told you about eddie, and the arcade, and the kissing bridge, and how he'd always, always pushed it down but now it was only the two of you, and if he was to marry you, he wanted everything out in the open.

and god damn you if you let him keep hating himself.

"richie, thankyou for telling me. im so happy that you... that you felt you could talk about it. and to me."

"so... you're not..."

"angry? no. honey, this is who you are. what kind of partner would i be if i didn't love you for who you are? you're perfect, richie."

he cried again, and you let him, because he fucking needed it.

----

richie's nightmares were bad.

really, really fucking bad.

he didn't have them as much as beverly said she had, because, while he had been caught in the deadlights, It was dead and couldn't push into his mind any further. he often couldn't remember what they were about, only that he woke up so scared he would cry. the deadlight-induced terrors came and went, but they always caught both of you off guard.

when it first happened, you were more than a little bit confused, because richie was not a restless sleeper.

you woke to quiet whimpers coming from the man sleeping beside you as he writhed under the bedlinen.

in your sleep-addled haze, it took you a minute to understand what was happening, wiping the sleep from your eyes and adjusting to the darkness.

what, moments ago, was little more than disturbed whimpers, was now loud, heart-fucking-wrenching sobs, the only sound in the otherwise silent apartment.

his body shook next to yours and you were beginning to panic, reaching for him.

"richie? baby, wake up." you shook him lightly, noting the sweat practically dripping from him, and his face, scrunched in fear. he whined lowly, jerking in the bed, but he did not wake. you hadn't been faced with such a situation before, especially not with him, so this was touch and go.

this had never happened before and you were absolutely shitting bricks.

you shook him again, and he jolted awake, crying out as he sat up with a start.

"richie?"

his eyes snapped open, searching wildly around the room for something that wasn't there.

the only light came from the moon and city lights outside your house. sobs of pain overtook him, great, heaving breaths, and then the man you were in love with was crying his fucking eyes out in front of you; fisting his hands in his sweat-soaked hair as his whole body shuddered.

they were tremors he had no control over, the aftershocks of the nightmare taking control of him.

it broke your heart. your face softened as you reached for him again.

god, he held on to you so tight that you almost started crying yourself.

"eddie..." he choked. "ben didn't warn him in time. and i-i-i couldn't... fuck-"

"eddie is at home." you murmured, pressing your lips to his sweat-slick forehead "a ten minute drive. he just moved in. we can go up to see him tomorrow, if you want."

"It's... It's in my head." richie sobbed. the front of your shirt was soaked through with tears. "It's still in my head."

"It's dead, richie."

"so why can i still feel it?"

and you didn't know what to tell him.

---

your first fight, needless to say, sucked.

you didn't even remember what you were fighting about, only that you screamed at each other a lot, and there were tears, and it ended with richie, head in his hands, asking you to leave him alone for a minute in a voice so uncharacteristically calm that it scared you. and so you left for the bedroom, shutting the door, your head swimming and chest burning from the sobs you'd been caging in there.

you knew, realistically, that this was just one fight, and you'd be back to normal within the hour, but this was the first fight you'd had since you were kids, and god only knows how hot headed you'd gotten in the 27 years since then. both of you.

and you hated yourself for letting it get this far and making him not want to be around you.

it was times like this, when richie's nightmares were at their worst and you woke up every night like fucking clockwork to make sure he was real and still there and still breathing, and eddie came round constantly because he couldn't stand being alone in a new place, it was times like this that you needed to be close. so while it was just a dumb fight, you allowed yourself to cry.

richie clicked open the door about half an hour later, shuffling into the room. his eyes were red and he was probably shaking a little bit, you thought.

"im sorry." his voice came out small, and you sat up from the bed immediately.

"no, im sorry, rich. i was overreacting and it was fucking stupid and we need to just-"

and richie all but staggered forwards, grabbing your face in his hands and kissing you, hard. you gasped, and he used the opportunity to gain access to the inside of your mouth. cheeky bastard.

you both had been crying for a while, so the kiss was rather wet, but you overlooked it on account of the fact that his hand was not-so-discreetly sliding up your shirt and fumbling at your bra clasp. as suave as he liked to think he was, his bra skills needed work. he eventually did it, and seemed more than a little bit proud of himself, muttering a triumphant: "fuck yeah."

you tugged richie's bottom lip between your teeth and he fucking groaned. and that noise coming from his mouth was so fucking hot that your knees almost buckled.

you made a mental note to do the sex thing really really well tonight, because the sex thing was definitely happening and it had been a bad night for the both of you and you fucking needed him, right the fuck now.

it wasn't long before you ended up underneath him, and he was pressing open mouthed kisses to your inner thighs, and you were breathing hard and you honestly thought that if he didn't get the fuck on with it you'd probably die right there.

"rich- ahh- richie?"

"yes, baby?"

god, how the fuck was he so smug all the time?

"i think you should- fuck, oh my god- probably get on with things right the the fuck now, or i'll have to... i'll-" you curled your fingers into his hair, your nails scratching across his scalp.

"or?" he hummed, continuing his ministrations everywhere except where you wanted them.

"i'll have to, mmmh, hurt you, actually." you whispered, breathless. you were unable to form a solid argument, what with richie fucking tozier being so sexy and all, teasing the shit out of you.

"you will?" richie put a hand on each of your legs and spread them further apart, his lips relentless, sucking and biting your sensitive flesh. this man was going to fucking kill you, god.

"yeah, yeah, i'll- ahh- bite your fucking face off, or something-"

and then he was between your thighs, right fucking there, so he never did find out what that something actually was, because whatever came out of your mouth after that wasn't decipherable.

---

"we shouldn't fight." richie murmured, as if he was afraid of being too loud in case he broke the moment.

you traced gentle patterns on his chest with your fingertips.

"i know." you said, equally as cautious.

"but i don't even remember what we were fighting about, and we just had several rounds of the apology." he laughed quietly, kissing your bare shoulder.

smirking at the hickeys on your collarbone, he pressed a kiss there, too, admiring his handiwork.

"i love you, fuck face." you yawned, your eyes fluttering shut.

"yeah, and i love you, dickweed."

richie stared fondly at the piece of string around his ring finger. you would be alright. after all, your wedding was coming up.

he had no nightmares that night.

[tinyarmedtrex]

SINCE YOU WRITE SUCH GOOD ANGST :) this idea isn’t original but pennywise transforming into eddie to seduce richie? ofc no part two :))

“Twas the night before murder-mas and all through the inn, not a creature was stirring not even a-” A knock on Richie’s door paused his insane muttering. Making up terrible songs was all he could do to deal with his situation. The last twenty four hours all felt surreal- the call from Mike, flying back to Derry, seeing his friends, seeing Eddie- and he didn’t want to deal with any of it. He wanted to leave, to forget Derry and all this all over again but one thing kept him here. A height challenged hypochondriac. 

The knocking persisted, not caring about Richie’s very recent and relevant sexuality crisis. He’d been trying to ignore that he was gay for years but one look at Eddie and there was suddenly no denying it. He was in love with the other man, now and probably until one of them met their untimely deaths at the hand of a psychotic demon in a clown outfit. 

“I’m coming!” He called, pulling open his door to see the man in question. Eddie was standing there, in red flannel pajamas and looking deeply unhappy. 

“Eds, what are you doing here?” He asked, moving aside as Eddie barreled into his room.

“I can’t sleep. And it looks like you can’t either.” 

Richie nodded. He’d given up the idea of sleeping that night. The combination of being in Derry and what had happened in the restaurant had him on edge. He was convinced that Pennywise would pop out at any minute, ready to finish them off. He wished he had his bat. 

“You’re right.” Richie sat on the edge of his bed, watching Eddie walk around his room, ranting about dinner and their circumstances. It was insane how attractive he found that, how much he loved watching Eddie complain. 

Decades apart should have lessened this, or even stopped it, but instead everything Richie had felt at thirteen had flooded back, all the pining and repression was at the surface and now Eddie was in his room, poking his things.

“Is this all you brought?” Eddie asking, nudging Richie’s back with his foot.

“Not all of us need all our worldly possessions with us at any given time.” He’d seen the several bags that Eddie brought as he lugged them up the stairs one by one. 

Eddie chuckled. It sounded off to Richie, too high or too bright for Eddie but he ignored it as Eddie came to sit by him, his thigh touching Richie’s. 

“I brought everything Richie. All my things are in those suitcases.” 

He swallowed, glancing at Eddie. The other man had his head down, playing with something in his hands.  

“Why?” He asked, his heart already racing. Up close was even harder for Richie. He wanted to pull the other man into his lap, hold him close. But he stopped himself, too much time had passed, too many years had gone by, for him to still be allowed to do that. 

“When Mike called I didn’t remember much but am image came to my mind.” Eddie looked up, his big brown eyes meeting Richie’s green ones. “A hammock. An annoying boy with terrible impressions who always kept a spare inhaler for me.” Eddie unfurled his hand, holding up an inhaler that looked exactly how Richie remembered it. 

“Take it.” Eddie said, his tone too bright for the words.

Richie took the inhaler, examining it. Edward Kaspbrak- Use as needed - Expires Sept 1988. 

“Why do you still-”

“Do you remember the clubhouse?” Eddie interrupted, his gaze still on Richie, pinning him there. “Playing truth or dare? You never picked truth did you Richie? Did you have a secret?”

Richie was sucked back into a memory, sitting in the hammock in the dusty clubhouse, terrified that his friends would make him pick truth and that he’d reveal his secret. 

“Your dirty little secret.” A voice added. Not Eddie’s, though it came from him. 

Richie glanced at him, seeing that Eddie was grinning. But the grin was too big, stretching his mouth into what looked like a painful grimace. 

In a fluid motion Eddie moved, throwing a leg over Richie’s lap and straddling him. “It was me right Rich-ie? Was I your secret?” 

“Eds what are-”

Eddie grabbed his face, jerking Richie’s head up to meet his eyes. The eyes were wrong though, instead of a warm brown they were red, boring into him. “I know your secret. Your dirty little secret.” 

Richie had gone from confused to horrified. “What, what are you saying?”

“Kiss me Rich-ie, I know you want you. You’ve wanted to kiss wheezy for years.”  Eddie leaned in, smashing their lips forcefully together. Richie felt a tongue snaking into his mouth, far too long and snake-like to be human. Richie was horrified, too stunned to move for a minute, until he felt Eddie’s hands snaking along his sides, fingers grasping at him.

Richie moved abruptly, shoving the Eddie creature to the floor and moving away. “What are you? What did you do with Eddie?” He demanded, trying not to shake as Eddie transformed. His limbs popped out, growing longer. His outfit changed, from red pajamas to a dirty white and red clown suit. His skin became white, his hair red and suddenly Pennywise is standing in front of him, laughing manically. 

“Heya four eyes, it’s been a while.” Pennywise trilled, advancing on Richie. “Oh have I missed you.” 

Richie looked around the room, searching for anything to grab and trying desperately not to panic. He picked up a lamp, holding it like a bat as he turned to look at the monster who had haunted his nightmares for years. He’d gotten some of the details- how it’s forehead cracked and the way it towered over him- but the voice, that he had remembered exactly. It called to him at night, taunting him with all the things he would never have. 

“Fuck off!” He screamed. “Get away!” Pennywise was standing between him and the door and he wasn’t sure what to do, how to escape. 

“Don’t you want a kiss Rich-ie?” Pennywise’s lips grew comically large as he puckered them. “Kiss me four eyes.” 

Richie screamed, raising the lamp and bringing it down onto-

Nothing. 

Pennywise had disappeared, leaving only a red balloon in his wake. As Richie heaved breaths into his terrified body his door flung open, the losers all standing behind it and watching him. 

“Richie!” Eddie yelled, running forward and grabbing his arm. “Are you okay? What happened?” 

Richie pulled out of his grasp. Eddie was wearing the same pajamas, he looked the same as he had a minute ago, sitting in Richie’s lap. Those same brown eyes that Pennywise had used to mock him. All of it had been fake. For a second, a heartbeat, Richie had thought that it was Eddie, that the man had felt the same as him.

Bile rose in Richie’s throat. 

“I can’t- I can’t do this.” He said, shaking his head and pushing past Eddie to his bag. “I’m leaving. Fuck this town.” 

A chorus of cries rose around him, asking what happened and saying he couldn’t leave, but Richie didn’t listen. He couldn’t. He went down to his car and flung his bag inside, his only thought on leaving this hellhole for good.

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