#fem!stozier

[cwcthzl]

au. yuri stozier. victorian era. rachel, being the only healthy person in the family, trains herself to appear more manly (going by the name 'richard', working out, cutting her hair, wrapping her chest with bandages, deepening her voice, letting her body hair grow etc.) which wasn't hard that much because she had very masculine features, to be able to make a living since being a woman limits her opportunities to one or two jobs (one of them is marrying a rich man which what her mother encourages) but she's too stubborn and dirty-mouthed of woman to be taken seriously in those times. which she doesn't care about, of course.

years flow by spending her every waking hour to working in the most ridiculous jobs. she reaches the age of 20. she puts on more muscle, she grows taller, and she finds the man style haircut that suits her and covers her 'obvious' feminine features. she applies to being one of the princess' knights, gets challenged by princess anastasia uris' knights with others who also signed up and wins one of the spots regarding protecting the royal.

after a couple of weeks she gets promoted to being princess' personal guardian and when they first get introduced rachel is sweating bullets because why is this woman looking that deep into her eyes. does she know something. bloody hell. she looks like such a bitch. why is her face like that. is she judging her.

the first months are just princess and rachel richard constantly annoying each other. richard has to be more subtle about it, because she he is still employed as her guardian: so he just makes mistakes on purpose or 'forgets' important things, while princess just makes him do ridiculous things, makes him run from one place to another for useless things and so on. richard doesn't like her, and he is %99 sure she doesn't like him either, but king decided him as her guardian after she got into fights with her previous ones, so they both don't have choice.

that's until king sends princess (and richard) to another kingdom to make peace and arrangements for the upcoming years. they load their stuff and bags on their horses with a couple of more knights and a map man and get on the road. richard was expecting princess to arrange a car with a army worth of soldiers for her visit, and he was taken aback by this minimalistic choice, but he had no place to argue.

a storm takes place when time approaches the night, and princess asks the map man where is the nearest building, and it turns out they were really close to an inn so princess tells them to turn their horses to that direction because they were staying that night there, and in the morning they could carry on from there.

they get to the inn, soaked, water dripping down their clothes and hair. princess gives a handful to the hostler to take care of their horses and apologizes for the sudden visit in the middle of the night. richard wonders why she is being so polite when she can do anything she wants. she can light the inn on fire and not get any punishment and there she was apologizing. she was a princess god dammit.

hostler says to not worry and he is up all night anyway. princess thanks him and gestures others to get inside.

they learn the most of the rooms are full so they have to share. princess asks knights and the map man if they're okay with arranging two rooms, which means they will be 3 people per room, and they accept. princess nods and arranges the rooms. richard assumes he will be staying with the knights, which was great, because now he had to sneak off with his clothes and find a private place where he could change his wet bandages and clothes. he makes an attempt to follow them, only for princess to grab his arm and ask where he is going.

"my room?" he frowns.

"you are staying with me." princess spells out like he is some kid. it pisses richard off.

"need me to chase off your nightmares, majesty? can't handle being away from your dear father?" he smirks with sarcasm dripping from his mouth. princess rolls her eyes and tells richard to follow her to their room. richard obliges.

they get to the room. richard waits outside for princess to change her clothes. then princess steps out of the room and tells richard to change too, and richard says there's no need, and that he will change in another place only for princess to cut him off and tell him to just get changed. richard, being exhausted, just makes some snarky comment before accepting defeat. he strips, wraps his chest with clean and dry bandages and slips into his clothes. he is kinda relieved that he didn't have to go hunting for a private locker. he opens the door when gets done and princess gets in without saying another word.

richard tries to make a more comfortable laying area on the floor since princess will be taking the bed, but princess tells him there is no need and he can take the bed.

richard just looks at her like she's crazy. "and why would you do that?"

"i'm gonna go over the papers and arrangements," princess says, getting her ink and papers out of her bag. "it's gonna take long. you don't need to hurt your back on the floor when i'm not using the bed."

richard looks between her and the bed, wondering if she was serious or not. "is this a joke?"

princess lets out a exhausted sigh and looks up at richard, and for the first time she looks defeated. she looks tired. "look, richard, i really don't wanna argue. take the bed. i will wake you up when i'm gonna go to sleep if that's what gonna make you feel better, okay? just sleep."

richard just looks at her, taking in her features. she's clearly overworking herself, and it pisses him off because, seriously? richard needs to work because he needs to support his family, that's why he is fucking here, but princess? she was offered wealth from the moment she was born and she is working, for what? it's dumb. it's dumb and richard doesn't understand.

so he walks up to her and sits on the floor, right beside her legs.

"what are you doi-"

"isn't my duty to be by your side? there's no way i'm gonna sleep when you're here reading out some dumb deal with another kingdom. you're gonna be a real pissy lady when you wake up tomorrow. everyone knows how you get when you don't get any sleep."

"oh like you're the one to t-"

but instead of listening richard takes a paper in his hand. "let's get this over with."

princess looks at him. rachel feels eyes on her, but she doesn't budge. she royal promised to king to protect her daughter, after all.

princess sighs deeply and says, "okay."

they stay up all night. talking, correcting some holes in papers, and when it gets really late, they just start chatting. about everything and anything. making jokes, laughing silently, sharing memories and arguing about stuff. they fell asleep when it's almost dawn, but it's okay.

rachel decides princess is not that bad.

after that they become closer. princess becomes anastasia, and anastasia becomes stacy.

richard starts learning more about her. they start talking more like friends rather than people who has to put up with each other. richard making jokes about her princess duties and stacy shooting back by telling him about his lack of professionalism; richard learning stacy's routines, what makes her feel good when she is in a bad mood, who she likes, how she talks, how she thinks, how she loves simple designed clothes over overexaggerated ones because she doesn't like that kind of suffocation, how she carries a knife everywhere she goes and how she has one even under her pillow, everything.

and he learns stacy is smart. too smart, even. connected the dots like no one, found mistakes in their deals where they could take advantage of and face disadvantage, and most importantly, always paid attention to details, even the tiniest ones. as the time progressed, she sometimes pointed them out to richard, wondering if he caught them too. for example a business partner of theirs swallowing every time the statistics were brought up, or a servant of another king furrowing his brows lightly whenever king laughed about his treasure's hiding place. stacy requested a secret investigation on them, and it turned out business partner was a fraud and lied about incomes and success rate, and the servant was an agent who was sent by king's nemesis to steal his wealth.

richard got worried when he first realized this. if stacy was onto him, if she figured out his secret or she had known from the start, or she was about to know. richard wondered if stacy took notice of how he always got dressed in another room other than everyone, or how he picked on his shirt whenever the bandage slightly slipped, or how he never had facial hair, or how he was less muscular than his peers given the time he spent working out. it was little things, but stacy always paid attention to little things.

he wondered if she had known he was not the man he claimed to be and despite that she kept him beside her. he wondered if stacy would keep him by her side even if she found out he wasn't richard but rachel.

[itreference]

Okay, hear me out. Little Miss Perfect but it's Fem Stozier (do you see the vision?)

[dollarstoreartsupplies]

the world’s most niche fan fiction ever (genderswapped time traveling secret agents/immortal streddie it fanfic) was honestly probably the best thing im ever gonna write in my entire life and im not sure how to feel about that like… long term

[stanielman]

anyway here’s a fic of the tozier-wheeler siblings going Christmas shopping together <3

trans fem mike, stozier action, supportive nancy

[bluedoor7dawn]

I...

[losersclublol]

do i like to picture stan with long blonde ish hair? yes, yes i do

but do i find the concept of her with short darker hair and slowly looking more like richie every day incredibly comical? yes, yes i do

[haaawaiianshirt]

Im just sayin,,, with that clothing prompt,,, Richie in C3 and Stan in A4 is their vibe as besties

you are right!!!!

(ps, also some hand holding practice! it’s not fantastic but it’s a start!)

(pps, nb Stan cause is say so)

[bonbon-acide]

I ain't never seen two pretty best friends,,, it’s always one of them gotta be gay

[strawberriberri]

yes indeed i am in love with fem stanley fucking uris

[occasionaloneshots]

Projector

Stozier x Fem! Reader

Summary: Annoyed with one of her partners, the reader takes a different approach to addressing it.

CW: fluff, joking empty threat, the word h*ll once, I think that's all.

Most people would look at them and be confused, Richie himself was even confused by it. Stan and (Y/n) are the poster couple for the perfect marriage for the whole first year. That romantic comedy opposites-attract couple that could make a watcher swoon for their love story. The sorority girl who was a cheerleader and the quiet stand-offish guy in the back of her freshman year probability and statistics class. One class project and they were wrapped around each other’s pinkies for life. And they were cute, but even the other losers were shocked by them at first. When Stan and Richie came into Bill’s basement, a girl laughing at one of Richie’s jokes, everyone was lost. They assumed she was Richie’s girlfriend, out-going and laughing at his stupid jokes, even making them back. But when she sat on Stan’s side, clinging to his side, Bill nearly choked on his popcorn.

The wedding was perfect, beautiful and pristine. The ceremony was enough to bring a few tears to Mike and Bill's eyes, and Richie was happy for them. Except, the best man shouldn’t have a thing for the bride and the groom, should he? It was weird for him, Stan had been his best friend his entire life, they were even roommates in college. Then suddenly, every time he kissed his girlfriend he was jealous, and at first he believed he was the world’s worst friend. But at the wedding he realized he wasn’t jealous because he wished he was in Stan’s place, he was jealous because he wished he was up there with them. So for a year, the dark haired man kept his mouth shut, not wanting to hurt what he did have with what he wanted. So to say he was terrified when they asked him to meet them on their anniversary, that’s an understatement. Hearing them say they wanted him to be their third? He thought they were using him as a sick joke. But it had been three years of them being a throuple, and he was so happy. But even being a part of the couple, at times Richie didn’t get it. He loved them, and they obviously loved each other as well as him. But Stan still seemed like such an opposite to her, then again, so did Richie.

But it was that morning when she announced that it was a “Projector night” that he finally got it. They had done this before, their version of a family meeting, but normally Stan called for it. Maybe it was passive aggressive, but he had never witnessed them having a fight that led to screaming and crying, so it seemed to work. Richie wasn’t often part of it, he hated making PowerPoints, but it let them all talk without screaming, so it works. Stan and her made eye contact, grabbing her laptop from their shared office and walking into the shared bedroom. Now, as she uses his height to her advantage to hang the projector screen, he knew this was about to be amusing, the girl setting up her projector with a hum. Stan walks into the room as she hooks herself up, falling onto one end of the couch as he looks over at the two. “Hey Stannie,” Richie tone is teasing as he falls onto the couch, arm wrapping around his boyfriend. “Hey Rich.”

Their girl bounces up to the front of the room, a wireless mouse in her hand, and a screen that reads, “Why Stanley Should Sleep On The Couch Tonight,” on the screen behind her. The dark haired man on the couch couldn’t help but laugh at it, had he known this was the point to the night, he would have helped. He loves Stan, they both do, of course, but he was keeping them from sleeping often. “I assumed that this was the point,” the mumble from the man on his left made Richie laugh harder. The slide changes “The Crime” in red font at the top. Richie knew he was in for a long night, and he was so excited for it. “Stan, I love you, Richie loves you, but you, you’re a criminal.” The words sent the calmest of the three into laughter that shook his body, “I’m a criminal?” “You are,” she clicks, making more text show up, “You haven’t let Richie and I sleep through the night in two weeks. And we love hearing about your thoughts, when we want to be awake. But three in the morning is not the time to tell us that you’re having deep thoughts about birds, again.” Once again the slide changes as he opens his mouth to argue. “I don’t wake you up to talk about birds that often, I hear you about to say it, I’ve been keeping documents.” Richie turns his head, biting his fist in an attempt not to die laughing again, earning himself a soft shove from the other man.

Her hands flail as she speaks, reading the slide with a nearly amused annoyance. “Last Tuesday, your first account, ‘Richie, babe, wake up this is important.’ Richie wakes up, worried for you, the light is still on. And you say, ‘Babe, did you know that two different states have the American Robin as their state bird? I can’t believe I let myself forget this, am I losing my touch?’ It was two in the morning, Stan. Last Friday, you woke me up at four in the morning to let me know that the feathered jacket I got at the thrift store that day was made from a brand that killed birds. And I'm sorry that it’s real feathers, I didn’t know the brand did that, but, Love, that’s not a four in the morning discussion. Monday, you woke both of us up to let us know that two birds you had never seen were spotted in town, it was three in the morning. And to top it off, last night at three in the morning again, you woke Richie up frantically which also woke me up to ask if we thought birds had feelings.” Richie and (Y/n) could see a soft blush on the face of their lover, his lip caught between his teeth as he leaned his head on their boyfriend’s arm.

She changes the slide again, “Other things you have woken us up for this week, not including times because they weren’t as wild as the birds. Your favorite novel character died, you remembered that the Beatles don’t make music anymore, you missed Richie even though he was right beside you. There was also the time that you made ribs and woke us up in the middle of the night to bring them to us." Richie interrupts, a finger pointed into the air as he speaks, "Actually, that one was good. Those were good ribs." She pauses, nodding, "Valid, but back to the point. Bill's newest novel released, you tried to convince us to get a cat because ‘you agree to let me buy things more when you’re half asleep’. Taylor Swift surprise dropped a single, and finally, you wanted to know if we could have a fake second wedding to involve Richie since legally we can’t all be truly married.” Despite the whole show, Richie and Stan both knew she wasn’t mad, not in the way one would expect. (Y/n) loved Stan’s ramblings as much as she loved Richie’s jokes. But the woman struggles to fall back asleep if she wakes up in the middle of the night, and she hasn't slept enough in almost two full weeks now. Slowly but surely, it was starting to show, in her face and in her attitude.

So they kept quiet as she changed the slide again. “I love my boys, I really do. But I need sleep, which leads to our topic,” yet another page change, “ Stan, I need you to sleep on the couch tonight. I have a really important meeting tomorrow, when you wake me up it takes at least two hours for me to go back to sleep. And Love, I adore you, but if you’re the reason I lose this sale, we might physically fight.” Despite the words, she was giggling, smiling over at her husband. He got up, wrapping his arms around her, the giggling growing into a true laugh as he picked her up. “You would lose.” “You wouldn’t hit back,” she shakes her head, reaching out to Richie, “Make him put me down before I change my mind.” The dark haired man shakes his head, “Nope, you’re making him sleep on the couch, let him hold you above the ground.” “But Rich! I hate being picked up! I did this for us,” a pout stretched across her face. Stan puts her down, “The laugh said otherwise.” She crosses her arms like a child, walking over to her laptop, “You took me by surprise, it was involuntary.” The curly haired male shakes his head, “Yeah okay, are you going to be able to sleep without me though?” She nods, “I have Richie.” “She’s my wife tonight, Stanley,” he pokes out his tongue like a child.

“You ‘ve both reminded me that we need to discuss the three person wedding for an official partnership. Richie, marry us, please,” Stan mock-begs, wrapping his arms around Richie’s waist to hold him in place. Richie tuts, shaking his head, “You can’t distract me with a marriage proposal twice in one week Stanley. The lady and I need our sleep. I will marry you though, not tonight, but eventually. I need a real proposal though, from the both of you. I'll accept nothing less.” “After my meeting tomorrow,” (Y/n) nods, walking to the office. “Not that early either, but eventually, probably.” She walks back in, an arm wrapped around both Stan and Richie when she meets their sides. “It would be nice to say I have a wife and a husband though,” Richie says, tilting his head to the side, "And they're both hot. I win!" Stan lets go of Richie to high five his wife, “We win! A husband!” “Hell yes! I get two!” She laughs, putting up a fist and bringing it back down as if grabbing the air around her. Richie sighs, wiggling out of their grips, “Babygirl, it's late, you need to sleep. Goodnight Babe, I love you.” He presses a kiss to Stan’s lips smiling down at the woman beside him. “Goodnight Dove,” he turns to kiss (Y/n) too, “Goodnight Babylove. I love you both.” “Goodnight my love,” she smiles, grabbing Richie’s hand as Stan walks over to the hall closet to get his own bed set up for the night. “Sorry for putting you in marriage time out, my love!” “No no, I get it,” he laughs, “I'm annoying! Go to bed, Babylove.” “Yes sir!” She turns to Richie, smiling up at him as he opens the door for her, "Ready for a full night of sleep, lover?" He laughs, shaking his head, "Am I ever. Did he do that before I moved in?" "Never, you truly bring out the worst in him."

[cwcthzl]

rachel gets stacy a shirt that says "i have ptsd (pussy that's so divine"

[kaspgaytozier]

for the character ask: bev and/or richie (:

Beverly:

Sexuality Headcanon: bisexual

Gender Headcanon: cis-fem (but the idea of trans-woman Bev (?)) 🤭🤩👌 100% valid ✓

A ship I have with said character: of course Benverly- but also even when I hate seeing poor Ben sad and pining I like Billverly like- I don't have a problem with them being a thing

A BROTP I have with said character: Bev's friendship with Richie and Eddie are my favorite tbh.

A NOTP I have with said character: Beverly x Eddie romantically is just NOPE

A random headcanon: when the clown fiasco is over and she moves out with her aunt and she's free of his abusive father she can finally start working on designing clothes and as time passes she obviously gets better and better until she decides that she'll design everyone's prom suits and her boys will be very fashionable losers at prom 😍🤭💚💙.

Also after 2016 she obviously designs Richie and Eddie's wedding suits. that's a given 👉👉

Also IDK in the novel but the digital piano she has in her room in ch1?, she's super good at playing piano and she plays Ben beautiful melodies on it ♥️

General Opinion over said character: I love her so much, honestly she's like WOW, please let her rule the world, she out there dealing with a shitty father, bullies from school AND befriending six stupid teenager boys (!?) can't relate, I could never. She's stronger that those six losers and a queen™ I STAN. (don't take that too seriously obviously SHE LOVES her boys just as they love her I'm just saying I could never).

Richie:

Sexuality Headcanon: haven't read the book so I'll go with GAY (movies-verse)

Gender Headcanon: male (either cis ot trans) (also I'm thinking genderqueer Richie is a very interesting headcanon)

A ship I have with said character: REDDIE UNTIL I DIE. But also Stozier and Bichie... andand I'm cool with Richie x anyLosersMember

A BROTP I have with said character: can't choose between Stan, Bill and Bev. (all three)

A NOTP I have with said character: Richie x anymember of the Bowers gang because W H AT T H E FU C K.

A random headcanon: this is angsty but I think that after craving R+E on the kissing bridge whenever he and the losers rode or walked trough that bridge he'd get VERY anxious because what if they see the carving i made and then they discover my dirty secret and so he would be very obnoxious and make everything in his power so they wouldn't be a prolonged time near the bridge.

General Opinion over said character: I JUST LOVE HIM SO MUCH AND I'D GIVE MY LIFE FOR HIM. HE DESERVES THE WORLD PLEASE PROTECT HIM. also he's an idiot.

SEND ME A CHARACTER AND I’LL DO THIS

[dollarstoreartsupplies]

I just finished ur werewolf richie fic what the fuck what the fuck it was v good and i love all of them so much but it also spat on me and ripped my heart out and i’m mad at you (i’m not ily for making this masterpiece im sad it’s over but not cause u put my favorite characters through it). you wrote it ages ago but i thought i would lyk anyway🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

AHHHH THANK YOU!! :') this is so nice thank youuuuu and I truly apologize it is truly so brutal hgjklf <3<3<3<3

as both an apology and a thank u here's a like full chapter of the sequel fic I never ended up writing about how each of the Losers find out Richie's a werewolf

(for context Mike DEFINITELY knows something is up with Richie by the end of the original fic, or at least suspects, so she finds out/talks to richie about it first)

(and also also for context this is a big streddie fic in my brain this part is just a Stozier Moment but it's important to me that everyone knows this)

Link to fic for context :)

She doesn’t mean to go to Stan’s. 

Like super does not mean to go to Stan’s. 

Like, the first thought when she woke up, sick on blood, cold and hurting, was ‘I want Stan but I cannot under any circumstances go to Stan’s right now because I can’t drag her into this’ doesn’t-mean-to-go-to-Stan’s.

She meant to go to Mike’s when it became clear going home and being alone was not going to be an option tonight, not if she wants to feel like a person tomorrow. 

It’s not that she really wants to drag Mike into this either, but Mike had quite honestly dragged Richie, teeth and all, to her and she’s working on trying not to feel like it’s selfish to get her involved. 

But she didn’t go to Mike’s house, because she is selfish. 

She knows it’s stupid but tonight was one of the bad nights and she’s hurt and she’s scared and she’s just so tired and all she wants is Stan. Stan just has this practical, mini-adult, weirdo way of making everything feel, even if it’s just for the moments you're with her, like it might be okay.

She considers coming through the window like she does with Eddie’s, but Stan’s parents (fucking surprisingly) don’t hate her guts and her whole body goddamn aches too bad to feel like risking it. 

So she just knocks, as boring as it is and as weird as it feels to be doing it so very early. They’ve got a doorbell but it makes Donald pissy whenever someone uses it, so, normally Richie slams on it as many times as it takes to get a reaction. But not tonight. Tonight she doesn’t want a reaction, she wants a Stan. So she waits.

And waits. 

And knocks again. 

Stan (god, fuck, thank god, it’s Stan) answers the door, finally, and despite her repeated reassurance to herself that Don and Andrea Uris do, in fact, like her, Richie feels her whole body slump in relief.

No reaction, just a Stan.

She’s got her arms crossed tight over the front buttons of a cardigan she’d definitely stolen from her dad, it's way too big on her, hitting well past the thighs of her rolled up jeans and tangling around her fingers. They aren’t pajamas, but they aren’t anything Stan would ever leave her house in either, and something muddled in Richie’s tired brain goes ‘huh’. There's a red calculator-keys indent on her right cheek.

There’s always been a sort of art form to understanding the complicated language that is Samantha Uris’ startlingly expressive eyebrows, one most don’t bother learning and Richie is fluent in. She can easily translate, from the way her cocked eyebrow droops into something furrowed as she takes in the scene that is Richie, that she’s fucking concerned.

She’s sure she’s what one might call.. a sight, bloody and dirty and wearing whatever mismatched, musty clothing she’d managed to keep stored in the clubhouse before the full moon for situations like this. 

(Last night had been one of the blurrier nights, when she couldn’t quite remember how she’d gotten old barbed wire tangled in complicated knots around her ankle or whether or not she’d killed anything. She hated those nights. Fucking hated them so much. She’d had ample amount of time to adjust, she’d was far better at dealing with the idiosyncrasies of being a monster now than she had when it'd all first happened, but she still hated the not knowing of it all, it made her feel useless and dangerous and often left her in dire need of hugs she was too worried to ask for.)

Stan ushers her in, grabbing her upper arm and then recoiling back in something that could either be horror or hurt when Richie flinches away, hands tucking under her armpits in an awkward crossed-arms self hug.

“What the fuck, Rich?” She hisses, unfolding her arms just long enough to close and lock the front door before she leans against it, shoving her hands back into place. She seems entirely lost on what she’s supposed to do, which is fair enough, Richie hasn't said anything yet. She thinks absently that her silence might be more startling than anything else.

She really doesn’t think she can say anything, she hadn’t thought of an excuse for the injuries Stan hadn’t noticed yet but was sure to once they were out of her dimly lit foyer, she hadn’t thought of an excuse to even be here because she shouldn’t be here. 

There is also the dangerous, ever present possibility that she will do nothing but sob if she opens her mouth. 

She’s already toeing the thin line between holding it together and a complete breakdown, and Stan Uris has a way of making that already fragile line as structurally sound as a strip of cellophane.

They just stand there for a moment in a silence more awkward than they’re used to.

Richie shifts her weight, wincing when she puts too much pressure on her fucked up ankle, if Stan notices she doesn’t give any indication other than a slight raise of her eyebrows (that means she’s noticed, she’s absolutely goddamn notices, but she’s waiting to give Richie a chance to tell her herself).

The door down the hall clicks softly open, breaking through the quiet. Stan’s parent’s room. Her shoulders immediately tense, hands absently fiddling and straightening the buttons down the front of her sweater so suddenly Richie isn’t even sure Stan knows she’s doing it.

“Samantha? Who's there?” Andrea Uris appears, padding halfway down the hall before stopping, pulling her long, silky robe tightly around itself. Stan’s posture slumps to something more comfortable. She always looks more comfortable around her mom.

(Richie had always liked Stan’s mom, for the obvious reason that she didn’t make Stan all rigid and anxious like her dad did, but there was more to it than that: Andrea Uris was almost startlingly like her daughter. It’s a fact Stan would resent if you told her, so Richie keeps quiet about it and appreciates it from a distance.

Except right now she really, desperately wanted her to go away before she noticed something or told Stan’s dad who would most definitely say it was too early and kick her out. Or call her parents. Which is way worse.)

Her eyes catch on Richie’s ankle and one eyebrow raises carefully. Fuck.

“It’s just Richie, Mama, can she stay over?” Something unreadable flicks across Mrs. Uris’ face, hidden by her quickly pursed lips and slow nod.

“Well, I suppose it’s practically morning anyway, as long as you two keep it down.” She gives a final cursory glance to Richie’s ankle, lifts a hand to wipe a smudge of what she desperately hopes is dirt and not blood off her cheek, and spins on her heel, walking back to her bedroom. Before she closes the door all the way, a snippet of conversation, a lie to Stan’s dad about the paperboy coming bright and early, drifts down the hall that Richie knows only she can hear. Stan’s shoulders untense at the same time as hers anyway.

“Come on, let's go upstairs.” Stan holds her hand out, tentative and wavering in the space between them, not quite touching like she's afraid Richie will flinch again. She takes it, lacing their fingers together and trying very hard not to cry not to cry not to cry as Stan guides her up the familiar path to her bedroom.

She falls back into her desk chair, legs extended and arms crossed as she studies Richie up and down. Richie just stands there, shifting nervously under the scrutiny and shaking her head when Stan looks pointedly at her bed. (She’d managed to slice her back up a little, somehow, and can feel the cuts already scabbing over, they weren’t too deep, but the back of her sweatshirt is still damp with blood and her ankle is still somewhat mangled, she doesn’t want to stain any of Stan’s things. Because Stan gets all panicky about stuff like that and she already shouldn’t fucking be here-)

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Whatever do you mean, Staniel?” She asks, going for casual dismissal and stumbling somewhere closer to ‘I am definitely hiding something’.

“You’ve been acting weird. I thought it was… I figured it was everything that happened that summer,” Stan sat up carefully, one hand subconsciously rubbing up the scars that lined her cheek. 

They rarely talked about it, ‘that summer’, nobody quite knew how to go about it and Stan especially could never seem to find it within herself to say Pennywise, not that Richie blamed her.

“But that was two years ago. It’s not that I expected you to be over it obviously, but I don’t think that's what's going on here.”

“What are you talking about?” She laughs, sharp and defensive, and Stan furrows her eyebrows together, rocking out of the chair so she’s standing in front of Richie, one hand firmly on her shoulder like she’s worried she’s a flight risk. Maybe she is.

“Richie, I want to help you but I need to know what's wrong.” She tries for a smile, it’s reassuring in the barest sense of the word but only because it’s Stan. The smile doesn’t reach her eyes, she’s worried, Richie is worrying her, that's not what she wanted.

“Nothing is wrong, I’m fine!” 

“I’m sorry, but you can't show up on my doorstep at six in the morning, bleeding and covered in dirt, and just expect me to think you’re fine! Why are you acting so weird?” Stan is getting angry, some of her carefully-crafted-Stan-Uris-patented-composure slipping enough that Richie’s instincts are telling her to shut the fuck up or get the fuck out if she doesn’t want a fight. Coming here was stupid. 

Stupid, Stupid, Stupid Richie who still can’t bring herself to leave because even as Stan squints at her, all unwanted concern and frustration, Richie feels so much safer than she has all night.

“I’m not acting weird!” She is. She knows she is. It’s a literal wonder she hasn’t had a thorough Stan interrogation yet.

“Yes you are! What the fuck is up with you?” Stan shoves her shoulder a little too hard, prodding her in the chest like she’s trying to force her worry to resonate in Richie with her finger tip.

“Nothing!” 

Her and Stan don’t ‘fight’; they bicker and disagree often enough, sure, they playfully argue in a way that makes half their school think they hate each other, but they don’t fight. Not often, at least. It always makes Richie feel constantly overwhelmed and upset and wrong so she tries to avoid it as often as possible, and, despite how easily she gets into arguments, Stan tends to hate confrontation. Especially with Richie.

“Just tell me!”

“I’m a werewolf!” 

(Now, to take a step back, the worst fucking possible thing for one to say to their best friend who they most certainly don’t want to know certain things, such as their incredibly traumatically acquired lycanthropy, is “I’m a werewolf!”

Are we clear on that? Good. Because while it rarely comes up for most people’s day to day lives it’s pretty solid advice that in this moment Richie Tozier desperately wishes she’d been given. 

In her defense she’s exhausted and achy and just wants a hug from the person whisper-shouting at her so her critical thinking isn’t really powered up to full but, still, it’s an inadvisable tactic that, in her opinion, probably will end with said whisper-shouting should be hugger running for the hills.)

Why the fuck did she say that oh god oh god oh god shes going to hate her now, fucking idiot, why did she just say that-

Stan just lets out a low, angry laugh, startling her out of her panic and into a new, limited edition version of panic that was just sort of confused.

“Fucking fine. Don’t tell me.”

“What?”

“I said don’t tell me. God, fucking… whatever, Rich. 

“What?” It comes out all choked and weird the second time. She’s giving her an out and Richie has no clue why she suddenly feels as though she cannot take it under any circumstances.

“Beep fucking beep. I’m not in the mood for a weird, shitty joke, right now.”

“It’s-” (This is where you stop, Richie,) “I wasn’t-” (fucking laugh like your an asshole so she doesn’t know you weren’t lying,) “Stan.”

“What.” She snaps. She’s fucking pissed and Richie is well aware all she’s doing is making it worse.

“I wasn’t kidding.” Well, fuck.

“Sure.”

“Stan.” She’s making it very hard to accidentally expose life changing truths to her tonight. Which is to be expected, she guesses. Stan’s never been into change or mysticism or things that didn’t have concrete scientific evidence backing them up, but she’d figured, with clown shit that at least this would be a little fucking easier.

And then she does something really goddamn stupid.

Stan blinks hard at Richie’s bite-scarred arm, and then down to where she’d yanked off her sweatshirt onto the floor, and then back up to her bite-scarred arm, and Richie just stands there and shivers in her stupid little tank top and thinks that she really goddamned should have taken the out and let Stan be pissed off at her.

She doesn’t look at the scar when she can help it, it’s gross and it’s big and it’s… uncomfortable.  She fucking hates it and there's a reason her wardrobe has shifted exclusively to long sleeved button ups and light jackets regardless of the weather. And now here she is. Just letting Stan stare at it over and over and over like she’s got short term memory loss exclusively for big gross bite scars.

Stan’s mouth drops open, a bit fucking belatedly, before she takes a shuddering breath in through her nose and squeezes her eyes shut, “When- what- no. Okay. No.”

“No?” Richie giggles, feeling a little hysterical. Stan does a weird, garbled approximation of a giggle back.

“You… You’re not kidding? I’d like you to be kidding I think.” She just keeps staring.

Richie considers just cutting her arm right off, “Mmm. I’d love to be kidding.”

She finally looks up, makes frantic, slightly insane eye contact with Richie, and offers a sturdy “Well fuck.”

Stan wraps her ankle. Richie tells her she doesn’t need to, that it’ll be fine in like an hour and maybe she should actually just go- but she just rolls her eyes, pushes her onto the bed, and makes some wry comment about Richie needing to pay her dry cleaning that makes Richie a little dizzy from the sudden awareness of the metallic scent of her blood saturating the baby powder clean fabric softener of Stan’s sheets. 

She bites down hard on her tongue to keep from wincing as Stan cleans the sloppy puncture wounds. She tastes copper and somewhere in the back of her head Eddie Kaspbrak cries out some probably-wrong-warning about human teeth being able to bite through their tongues or fingers with the same amount of force you would use on a carrot, it’s just that your brain doesn’t let you. 

She wonders, if only to distract herself from Stan’s shaky fingers around her leg, where that statistic falls for dogs.

“Am I allowed to ask questions?” Stan asks, eventually, as she messes with the bandages she’s wrapping around Richie’s ankle. Unwrapping and rewrapping and unwrapping and rewrapping the top layer in a way that means she’s probably-definitely a little more nervous about this whole thing then she’s trying to let on.

“I mean it’d kinda be a dick move not to let you, huh?”

“Probably.” She snorts, and god, it’s all so Stan, and so fucking normal, that Richie wants to cry.

“Ask away, Stan-a-rita.” She says instead. Probably a little too choked up for a word like Stan-a-rita.

“Wow. Horrible.”

“Hey, I’m having a day, cut me a break.”

She rolls her eyes, but her smile seems supremely forced, which makes Richie nervy. Stan isn’t one to fake smile. If she’s unhappy she’s generally more than fine with making sure you know it.

“When? When did you… y’know?”

“Get bitched?”  

“Fuck off.”

“Oh, come on do you know how long I’ve been holding off on bitch puns?”

“Richie.” She says, instead of ‘come on, asshole, I know what you're trying to do and I’m not letting you off that easy- answer the question’ but Richie got the message all the same.

“It was fuckinnn’ clown shit, near the end of that school year.”

“Fuck, Rich.”

She lets her head flop back onto the mattress, “Yeah.”

To her surprise, Stan pats her ankle firmly and flops on her back next to her.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Oh, yeah, course, that'd go well: ‘hey Stan, y’know that fuckinnnn’ monster clown that tried to eat your face and killed Georgie fucking Denborugh?’” Stan flinches and Richie tries to ignore it, even if it leaves her feeling like a complete dick, “‘Yeah, he made me a monster too. SURPRISE! Lets have a fucking sleepover.’”

“Don’t call yourself that.” Stan grumbles, softly, reaching for her hand on the top sheet. Richie yanks it away before she can.

“I mean I am.” She laughs, frantically,  “I mean- I mean, god, fuck Stan you shouldn’t even be talking to me anymore, I’m… I’m a fucking monster-”

“Hey! Don’t call yourself that.” Stan snaps, too sharp to leave much room for argument. At any other time Richie may not have even tried, bottled it up and decided later whether to believe what she’d said. But this wasn’t one of those times, this was a matter of Stan’s safety and she didn’t seem to understand.

“No! I’m a fucking- I’m a werewolf and I don’t even know what I’ve killed and I’m… I’m a monster.” She repeats helplessly, shoving herself off the bed. Trying to get Stan away away away but she just scrambles off and sits in front of her. Knees pressing against Richie’s tangled up legs.

“You’re Richie.” Stan says firmly, leaning so close that Richie can feel her breath across her nose, the Stan-specific scent washing over all her senses, eraser rubber and grass and too sweet black English breakfast tea, the kind that costs too much and comes in a fancy little gray-blue can she keeps as storage containers in her desk drawers once she uses the last tea bag-

And then they’re kissing.

Richie Tozier has spent a lot of time picturing her first kiss. She never pictured a face, she had hopes of course, but she wasn’t unrealistic and she didn’t want to let herself down before the kiss had even happened. 

In her head it was something prettier, she was prettier somehow, less gangly limbs and tear soaked cheeks and bloody ankles, she never had a werewolf living inside of her, instead it was all some romantic bullshit that Ben would have dreamed up.

This isn’t what she’d pictured, not at all, their noses squished together and her teeth got in the way and Stan pulled back almost immediately, she was filthy and smelled like wet dog and her stupid fucking scar was still on fucking display and Stan hadn’t gotten a good night's sleep and her hands were shaking.

But she was just kissing Stan Uris. Stan Uris kissed her, and that is so much more incredible than anything Richie’s shitty little daydreams could have ever dreamed up (not that she hadn’t pictured kissing Stan, she fucking had, probably an embarrassing amount, but she’d never thought it’d be something that could have ever ever ever actually happened).

“What?” She manages, scrambling back hard against the bed even though there's nowhere to go, blood pounding in her ears.

“I… you were being stupid. I had to shut you up.” Stan chokes, bringing a hand up and tugging hard on a loose curl unraveling from her bun. The whole thing tilts lopsided.

“I’m always stupid! You’ve never shut me up like that before!”

“I’m sorry! I thought- you just- that was… out of line, I shouldn’t have done that.” No. No, no, no that’s not what Richie means, absolutely not. Her heart is hammering so hard in her chest it hurts.

“I didn’t say that! I just… wasn’t expecting it!”

“I should have asked, I’m sorry-” Richie tumbles over her own knees to get back to her, accidentally yanking the edge of Stan’s comforter with her and knocking one of the pillows to the floor. For just a second she thinks about how much Stan would hate that, but then they’re kissing again and pillows aren’t really the first thing on her mind.

Second kisses are supremely better than first kisses apparently, less awkward, she knows how to tilt her head and she is the one who initiates it this time so her teeth don’t get in the way.

Stan breaks away slower this time, keeping their foreheads pressed together, and whispers “Oh fuck… thats why your teeth-”

“Yeah.” She snorts, weakly, “Your bedside manner needs some fucking work, though.”

“Fuck off.”

“I mean, come on, that’s why your teeth-”

“You said I could ask questions.” And then, entirely too delighted, “Bitch.”

“I told you! Bitch puns are fun!”

“We’re talking about this some more.” She warns, but she’s grinning.

“Yeah, yeah,” Richie grumbles, disoriented, a little, by the emotional whiplash of whatever the fuck today is shaping up to be, “Can I take a nap first?”

“If you shower.” She says, flatly, pushing herself up off the floor. 

“Together?” She teases, wiggling her eyebrows and Stan presses a flat palm against her face, pushing her farther down to the floor.

“You wish, Tozier. Shower.”

“Come on, seriously?” She whines, “I already got blood on your sheets!”

“Yeah, and I’d like it if you didn’t biohazard up new ones.” 

She giggles around the facefull of towel Stan launches into her face, “I’m traumatized!”

“Join the club.”

(Fun fact: Third kisses are even better than first and second ones. 

Second fun fact: Richie is really, honestly excited to find out if kissing is just one of those upward trajectory things that never really plateaus out.)

And maybe she’s going to cry a little when she gets into the shower, like Stan’s not gonna be able to hear her right in the en suite. And maybe maybe she’s gonna cry again when she gets out of the shower and sees that Stan’s nicely folded the pair of too-long pajama pants and sweater she always steals for sleepovers.

And maybe maybe maybe she’s going to cry a little when she leaves the bathroom and Stan hands her a neatly-written list of werewolf related questions on a piece of college ruled notebook paper with the ripped-up spiral edges very-precisely torn off so the sides are even.

But Stan just rolls her eyes and calls her a baby in an even, pretending-she’s-not-worried-so-Richie-isn’t-a-repressed-weirdo-about-it way.

She didn’t know it was possible to feel so fucking normal after what the fuck just happened. But she’ll have a subsequent werewolf-and-lesbian related crisis later, maybe tomorrow. Right now she’s bizarrely okay for the first time in maybe two years and it’s time for fucking bed.

(Jesus fuck, going to Stan’s was so the right goddamn call.)

[catboypuke]

fem!Stozier

[losersclublol]

kinda weird and odly specific (fem) stozier bff head cannons !!!

stan has only ever let her bare feet out around richie

they quote the twins from like that one snl sketch. wait lemme specify. this one and they quote all the john mulany ones. like “we’re so close we finish eachother..” “off”. “his bootys real” “but my personality is fake”

they do those smule duets together and it’s a hot fucking mess but kinda good???

stupid. fucking. tiktoks.

so many

richie insists that they only do like one but they’re both on a friendship high and end up making like 20 and they’re all messy yet funny and good

a few of them blew up

cause why wouldn’t they. like you take richie, an actual comedian, and stan, an actual comedian who just won’t get paid for it. and you get comedic genius with the right amount of fruityness

ew no but matching pjs at sleepovers omg

sleepovers would either be like “we need sleep but you’re at my house” or “almost breaking something whilst having an amazing time and oh wow how did that get in your hair”

stan does richies hair at least once a month and she keeps telling richie to just do her hair like this and it’ll look this good all the time and richie keeps saying she will but noooooooo she doesn’t cause she’s a little dirt girl who has to look messy

they make the weirdest but best snacks together (i used to dip cabbage in lemonade, it was bomb)

they make little cooking videos/vlogs but it’s just stan looking tired and doing a good job, richie getting lost and confused and both of them losing everything they put down

“anyway now we need the spatula to mix it all up… where is the spatula” “how tf would i know dumbass you had it last” “okay don’t be mean stancy but seriously where is it i just had it” “bro i don’t know just retrace your steps or something idk… wait no where tf is it it’s not here” “see what i mean???” *confused looking* “omg where is it” “it’s gonna burn !” “no ! we made that together ! where is it !!!” *even more confused and stressed looking* “I DONT KNOW “ *harmonised screaming* “wait no no no it’s fine i’ll just turn the heat off for now” “oh thank god you’ve saved us,,, wait nvm no need i found it !” “where was it?” “oh the counter right next to us” “omg”

they’re the only ones who can see each others like ugly cackle only for bff snorty loud yet so silent laugh (please tell me you know what one i’m talking about)

the amount of times they’ve gotten in trouble for laughing so much omg

one time richie made them “hold hands” with their feet

she got punched but she got a picture so it’s worth it

their contact photos for eachother are the both best and worst pictures they have of the other

no other losers can see them

stozier eyes only

they definitely had one of those joint bff instagram accounts when they were like 12

omg musically

they had a shared account on musically too and it is the best thing ever made

HOLY SHIT ITS A GOLD MINE

“honey you already know i’m the slomo queen” and it’s just them doing some stupid ass spin with glasses on or something

stan has glasses

reading kinda glasses not like richies blind ass ones

omg no stan being farsighted is so funny to me tho i’ve thought about it before

like she can see birds like a mile away but walks into every fucking pole ever

she just can’t see them (how?? idk)

they share clothes

obviously

but when one of them comes over to the others house for a sleepover they just immediately change into whatever clothes is there

shared wardrobe

y’know my dad once put on my sisters jeans and they fit

sorry back on topic

i hate to be the one to say it but

they were each other’s first kiss and you can not tell me they weren’t

it’s up to you how it happens but it did

stans scared of spiders and richie takes advantage of that as much as possible (within reason she’s not an asshole)

she used the like spider on your face filter r to scare stan and it worked

she horror screams every time

THIS MASSIVE FUCKING SPIDER JUST CRAWLED OVER ME AND ITS LOST WTF

no no no fuck this no no

FUCK WHAT THE FUCK FUCK OFF NO

kms

i meant “i’m” but like yeah sure

anyways i’m sleeping downstairs tonight

they make up insane stories about stans bat mitzvah bc they were the only losers there

they shoot the straw wrappers at each other no doubt

have been mistaken for a couple too many times to count

they hold hands when they’re out and about (cause stan feels anxious and needs constant reassurance that she’s not gonna be left alone, also cause bffs)

they’ve got like ten of the bff necklaces and bracelets

like those wee bacon and egg ones that have the words “best” and “friends” on it

(stan got the bacon one)

they’re both lactose intolerant but have ice cream dates

whenever they have like picnics stan always brings perfectly cut fruit and nice sandwiches and food and stuff and richie brings all the snacks that they both like

stans like the mum who makes the cute little bentos

soup making omg

they’ve 100% cosplayed like heather chandler and veronica and like oh god i don’t wanna say it but bakudeku HDHSJXBHXHAJSNSN

i’m sorry but it’s funny

it was unintentional at first tho

richie was doing the deku voice for a tiktok and stan was telling her to stfu and people ran with it

WHY IS THAT SO FUNNYHXVSHXB BHSKSMSM N JEJNS

they’ve definitely ugly cried together

well of course

but it still had to be said

and like cuddles awwwwww

also they genuinely love eachother

whether it’s romantic or platonic they are like soulmates to me

well to me all the losers are soulmates but stozier are just the ultimate best friends

okay y’know what i’m gonna end this here

also i have no clue how to do the read more things apologies

oh and if anyone has any tips on how to do it in the mobile that would be so appreciated !!!

[haaawaiianshirt]

“This is Stan-the-man-tha Uris! Stanny’s a Jew which means she’s real smart and says oy a lot!”