#more so just a projection of ‘well why does SHE get to date richie what does amber have that I DONT???’ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kafka-ish · 4 years

Text

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

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

word count: 6.7k

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

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

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

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

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

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

So why did everything feel so wrong?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Benefits?” Richie asked mid-bite.

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

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

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

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

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

“You like Bill Denbrough?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kind of, but you don’t need to—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hwy 90

The highway to your stomach.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So?”

“Why Bill?” Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What did she ever see in him?

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

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

“Well… he’s nice.”

“Okay cut the crap.”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah… Bill is nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Richie didn’t say anything.

“Do you and her still…”

“Still what?”

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

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

It was what she was wondering.

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

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

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

“It’s ff-fine. I al-already sai—”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll ss-see you tuh-tomorrow?”

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

“Bye, y/n/n.”

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

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

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

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

“Did you have a good time?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He started talking to me more.”

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

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

“What’d Mister Charming have to say?”

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

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

“Hey.”

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

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

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

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

“Good.”

“Good?”

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

“Call me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She could do that.

“You were right,” y/n declared.

“What?”

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

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

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

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

“Tozier, don’t make me say it.”

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

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

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

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

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

224 notes · View notes

legends-live-in-memories · 4 years

Text

I Have Too Many Opinions. ep. 1

lmao. i got encouragement to post my opinions on fandom things and now i want to make a miniseries doing just that. so here i am. doing just that.

im putting it under the cut cuz this was 4 whole pages including the disclaimer. yes i put a disclaimer and i explain why.

Anyways, here is the first piece in what inevitably will become fandom info dump, this time on thomas astruc’s writing on miraculous ladybug. but only some of my opinions cuz we would be here all day otherwise.

So… a disclaimer before I begin…

I do not hate Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir (yes i'm using their government name). I am quite a fan of the show actually despite its faults. I am also older than the intended audience but was obviously younger when the show first aired which is how my interest was piqued (the fact that its been 6 years and only 3 seasons says more about the show than me being a fan for that amount of time but also i never want to rush content creators cuz they're doing their best) and due to my age, there will be inherent bias in my approach of what i'm about to say as there is in EVERY opinion. The fact that it is an opinion should imply the presence of bias but most people tend to lack the critical thinking skills required to draw that conclusion ANYWAYS…

If I did hate the show I would not have this blog nor would I be even writing this because i tend to not give more than 2 seconds of thought to things i actively dislike (some of yall should give this a try) and i'm allowed to like things that are designed for an audience that i was originally a part of but grew out of. (I don't suddenly stop liking things because I'm older despite what many younger fans seem to believe about older audiences. I also don't need to be ‘allowed’ to do anything cuz i wasn't asking for permission anyways.)

This will not be character bashing, astruc bashing nor fandom bashing cuz, again, that would imply i hate any of those elements and if i did, i would not dedicate brainpower to them. Analyses and criticisms of media are fun and engaging and required if you wish to produce good enjoyable content. Now most of this should be already assumed and self-explanatory but people on the internet like to play morality roulette roll dice on purity culture and I rather have documentation that I am in fact not bullying fictional 14 year olds or a grown man. But alas, people get trigger happy whenever someone has less than 1000000% positive opinions on something they like and will throw out words they can't define (gaslight, baiting, toxic, problematic, gatekeep etc) in an attempt to defend their blind devotion,

which is not needed, if you like something you never have to defend it, even if i don't like it. If you respond to anything I post saying you disagree with me, I will not argue with you. I won't debate back and forth and try to convince you that the things you like are wrong. Unless you are being absolutely tone deaf to what i'm saying, you wont get a negative reaction from me. So don't try to fish for a fight. Please. I got metaphorical hands for days and I'm mean, you don't want me hurting your feelings on the internet. Do yourself the favour. Difference of opinion is how we get diversification in media and is inherently a good thing. Now that that's out of the way, please don't ever let me have to say that again. I beg.

Now onto the fun stuff

I didn't know what I wanted as a first topic so my trusty internet friend @moonlitceleste suggested astruc’s writing…

AND BOI do i got some opinions on ole tommy boi. Again I don't hate the dude. In fact, he has worked on a few shows that had defined my childhood, including but not limited to W.I.T.C.H. (all eps available on youtube for those interested, 2 seasons, general fun time all around).

So I don't think he’s scum of the earth but I do think his approach to writing mlb specifically has more misses than hits.

The first big miss is that he has no idea how to write 14 year old girls. At all. Almost every girl he has ever written feels like some terrible archetype built entirely for marketability and childish projection and pubescent self-insert (kind of). He has never been a 14 year old girl. I have. In fact when the show first aired, I WAS around the (assumed) age of the mlb characters. The behaviour he passes off as quirky or awkward or just the character’s genuine personality tend to perpetuate harmful stereotypes of teen girls found in the media and are never actually addressed as harmful. they just get swept under the rug. Marinette’s exuberant collage of teen heart throb model boi Adrien Agreste and her very painful almost fan worship she has of him (which flip flops like a paper sandal in the rain) being portrayed as a cute school girl crush uwu, Chloe being the y7 Regina George, Alya being the token best friend of colour with her ‘sassy’ personality (i want y'all to imagine me eyerolling so hard i bust a vessel in my eye), Kagami being the very damaging Perfect Asian Child stereotype. And before y'all get on your dusty soap box and defend going on about “BUT IT'S FOR CHILDREN”,,,, know this.

i don’t give a solid fuck.

Not one.

Children arent stupid. Children are always going to remember the richy bitchy blonde who bullies the art kid, and the big kid, and the shy kid, and the non white kids, and was only nice to her equally rich white friend who she probably had a crush on or was only ever civil to her equally white lapdog. They're going to remember the half asian girl who was never allowed to actually be asian or the only black girl who existed solely as a soundboard for enabling bad habits or chastising the main character for the same habits she enables in the first place (boi aint THAT a topic for later). Like do i really need to explain that alya chastising marinette for taking max’s spot in gamer just to play with adrien rings absolutely hollow when she actively encourages her to sabotage the contest she’s in just so Kagami doesn't win?? Like I don't have to explain that right?? Again kids arent stupid and its quite something that Mari gets chastised for proving herself the best video game player regardless of her intentions just cuz it comes at the expense of max’s feelings/ego but is actively encouraged to sabotage not only kagami but herself by extension cuz kagami is ‘competition.’ Adrien is not a trophy to be won. And no I don't expect 14 yrs old to be perfect and to always make good decisions but these decisions are never addressed as being bad decisions. they get swept under the rug cuz those decisions were necessary for the ‘plot’ but astruc can barely keep characterization consistent and his characters suffer for it and it's the same children you preach are watching it that suffer as well. Cuz guess what? I KNOW 14 yr olds aren't like that cuz i've been there done that (this is the last time i'm saying that i promise) so I know astruc is just metaphorically throwing darts to figure out who says and does what without consideration for pre established personalities to drive the stalemate plot along. The same kids you say are watching this don't know that that's not how preteens work and will absorb and internalize those dynamics like baking soda and vinegar. Cata-fucking-strophically.

And I haven't even gotten to the boys yet. Which honestly doesn't require much explanation anyways cuz they suffer the same fate as the girls. Tired archetypes with nothing to give them life. Nino falls into Adrien’s person of colour token best friend who dates the female lead’s person of colour token best friend so they can have cute double dates uwu. Except the plot goes nowhere and we have no inclination of romantic development beyond moments that only act to actively convince me to anti ship the lovesquare (i don't want to do that so i self indulge in fanon that actually cares about the characters and plot. may i interest you in True Sight on AO3?). Max is the residential nerd but it doesn't matter (cuz he and everyone are dumbed down for the sake of ‘plot’), kim is the sports jock (which interestingly subverts the asian comedic relief stereotype but only barely) and luka is cute older guy ™ that wears black nail polish and is in a band. The point of all this is to say there is no depth in the characters. It's especially blatantly obvious with the characters astruc doesn't like (chloe). Again, it being a show for kids is not an excuse to be absolved of putting effort into the characters you make.

This is one of the biggest misses astruc has. I haven't even gone into all the nuances of this particular miss. And i havent gone into how that works against him in the plot either. Mostly because the plot itself hasn't gone anywhere and partially because I wanted to go into the plot (or lack thereof) separately as its own miss.

AND BOI is it a miss.

SO home boy astruc wanted to reap the benefits of a serial show with ‘engaging’ plot without putting in any of the work to make a linear storyline and relying on the episodic format for, again, marketability. You can't have the best of both worlds, you are not Avatar: The Last Airbender. Which btw has a lot less episodes and a desired end goal that didn't involve top dollar. Legend of Korra did but that's not the point and it had its failings with that too. I challenge you, tell me how many episodes actually contribute towards a plot point or introduce new thematic elements to the show? Can you name them? I can and I'm going to include the plot points that moved the story in some direction if only temporarily. Yes only temporarily for some of these and i will explain later. (if you're in the server you already saw this list *wink*)

25/26. Origins- self explanatory, the beginning of the story,

24. Volpina- introduction of the grimoire and Master Fu (kind of) and no, Lila is not a plot point,

28. The Collector- proper introduction of Master Fu,

37. Sapotis- introduction of Rena Rouge,

41. Syren- introduction of new aquatic power ups,

44. Anansi- introduction of Carapace,

47. Frozer- introduction of new ice power ups,

48/49. Style Queen- introduction of Queen Bee,

51/52. Heroes’ Day- introduction of Mayura and mass akumatization,

66. Startrain- introduction of Pegasus,

67. Kwami Buster- Marinette wears multiple miraculouses,

68. Feast- backstory as to how the miraculouses were lost,

69. Ikari Gozen- introduction of Ryuko,

70. Timetagger- introduction of Bunnyx,

71. Party Crasher- introduction of Roi Singe and Viperion,

73. Chat Blanc- alternate timeline that essentially means nothing but got a reaction out of fans anyways (myself included)

77/78. Love Eater/Battle of Miraculous- Marinette becomes guardian and other heroes lose their miraculous,

New York Special- other heroes exist and there is an American miraculous box,

That's 21 episodes. 21 out of a heaping 78 plus 2 specials. Everything else was just your typical akuma of the day episode and everything that happened outside that had no lasting consequences on the plot thanks to the miraculous status quo. Was it entertaining to watch Lila stir the plot of the class dynamic? Hell yeah. Too bad it meant nothing by the end of the episode cuz we were struck with miraculous status quo. She literally doesn't appear again until Heroes Day. that is from episodes 25 all the way to 51, she means nothing and yet she is treated with the severity of a b-villain/rival thing. She means nothing by the end of Volpina if I'm being honest. She is only relevant for 20 mins of episode time she’s in then it's back to magic status quo that undoes any shift in dynamics and relationships. It's like Spongebob who can't get his driver’s license. The worst part is I actually like Lila and I wish the story treated her with the seriousness we as an audience are expected to treat her with. Despite being painfully inconsequential by the end of each of the 3?? 4?? episodes she’s in, it's entertaining to watch a character create drama just because.

Too bad it means nothing.

Astruc is constantly building up suspense to something ‘important’ only for it to not deliver and fans are constantly having the rug pulled out from under us. Oblivio teased us with a reveal only that gets undone cuz memory akuma. Chat Blanc teased us with romantic development but that gets undone cuz time travel bullshit. Feast introduced more miraculous lore and the history of the guardians but that means nothing by the next episode or ever (i'm not including any reference to the season 4 trailer cuz i've been around the block a few times and im familiar with this lil dancy dance). Heroes Day teased us with a possible future team of heroes but that gets undone in Battle of Miraculous cuz ????? why?? (here's why; astruc was having a jolly ole time letting us know how irredeemable Chloe is at the expense of shooting his own stagnant plot in the foot. Again, discussion for later.)

Too bad anything that slightly swerves off course from the akuma of the day gets undone or ignored. Too bad nothing has any lasting consequence. I mean, if anything did, the episodes would have had a consistent order and release schedule so im not scrambling to watch the leaked ep in Portuguese or something while the french dub is two episodes behind while the english version hasnt even been dubbed. I really wonder how he plans to conclude the show when he’s so afraid to step out of the corner he painted himself in.

Again, not going into nuances. If you want you can ask for more specifics (i doubt anyone would) but this is really just a slightly detailed general overview of my opinions on astruc’s writing.

I was going to include another miss in his approach to this show but imma save that for another time.

How’s that for a ‘first’ post?

#mlb #opinions my guy opinions #i dont wanna tag this as salt #but mlb criticisms and analyses #IHTMO #the hashtag for this series #thomas astruc #miraculous fandom #miraculous ladybug #miraculous: tales of ladybug and cat noir #yes the government name again #come get yall juice #miraculous

22 notes · View notes

thoughtfullyyoungduck · 4 years

Text

a little jealous

A/N: this was requested by anon, I hope you enjoy, let me know what you think!

request: Could you write a fic post it chapter 2 where Richie and Eddie start dating, but then Richie starts to feel jealous of Eddie with an attractive coworker?

warnings: a few curse words, a very brief mention of homophobia, a bit of self doubt

They’ve been officially dating for two months when Eddie invites Richie to join him on a work related business party. It’s not the first one Eddie has had to go to, but up until now he had always made up an excuse so that he only had to stay for about an hour, not nearly long enough for Richie to tag along to.

The difference between this one and the others he has already been too, is that this time he needs to stay to the end. Eddie might be up for a promotion if his boss takes a liken too him, which is why he is determined to make a good impression. If Eddie gets turned down, he’ll probably leave his job and search for another one, Richie thinks, since Eddie had been going on none stop about quitting.

Richie has been to his office before, on more than one occasion, when Eddie was so stressed he forgot his lunch, so it’s not his first Rodeo. He knows a few people that will attend, like Anisa who is the secretary on the bottom floor, Emmet who is Eddie’s coworker and works in the office adjacent to his, and Karen who is about as much a pain in the ass as Eddie’s mom, but Richie loves to fuck with her.

Anisa is his best friend in the office, well of course besides Eds, but whenever he stops by, he always leaves some form of candy on her disk, a references to the first time the two met, when Richie accidentally dropped all the candy he was planning to surprise Eddie with. It had been Halloween, and even though Eddie didn’t celebrate it, none of the losers actually, Richie still felt the need to do something. They hit it off straight after, especially when Anisa confided in him that she had never seen Eddie smile as much as when he got together with him.

Emmet is a bit of a hardass, work till he drops, party till he drops kind off guy. Full-on in everything he does, which sometime is a little of putting, but it can also cause hilarious comedy gold moments, which Richie has used multiple times in his sketches.

He’s pretty sure his winning Karen over aswell, since he has even managed to get a small smile out of her, which is a hell of a lot more than he ever got from Sonia.

The others he knows only vaguely by the nicknames he gave them, ranging from boss man to toilet man, the latter spending all his time on the toilet if Eddie is anything to go by.

Still, Richie is very excited when he gets permission from Eddie to go with him, so much so that he’s practically bouncing on his foot whilst he gets ready. Eddie is less keen on going tonight, but that has nothing to do with the fact that Richie is going.

Ever since returning from Derry, the two of them don’t go out much. They meet up with the losers, but apart from that they usually spend their time inside of the confinements of their home, either fighting over he gets the remote, cooking, working or annoying the shit out of each other.

Neither of them want to either, they enjoy each other’s company, and those of the other members of the losers club. When they do go out, they always seem to run into someone they know giving them shit about being gay. ‘Oh Eddie, I thought you were still married to your wife?’ or ‘If it isn’t the trashmount with a boy. What happened couldn’t get enough girl anymore?’

Most of them don’t mean bad, and Eddie nor Richie are ashamed of their love, they’re just tired of having to explain over and over again, so they stay in.

Work parties are the worst for Eddie, who doesn’t even like most of his coworkers to begin with, but sometimes they are mandatory, and he has no choice but to drag his ass over there.

So Eddie grumbles his way through getting ready, shaving and brushing his teeth with a stern look on his face, picking out his and Richie’s cloths. ‘There’s no way I’m letting you dress yourself, you’ll look like a walking Christmas tree.’

They lose some time while they get ready because Richie tries to cheer Eddie up a bit, by threatening to dose him in cold water, welcoming the snappy warning Eddie sends his way.

By the time they make it to Eddie’s workplace, where the party is going to be held, it’s a quarter past nine, while they were supposed to be there at nine.

This does not do any wonders for Eddie’s mood, who’s scowl turns impossibly bigger. He almost trips over his own two feet in his haste to make it inside, but before they do, he tugs Richie aside by the hem of his sleeve.

‘Please act normal, I need this job alright?’

‘My Eds, you wound me. You think I would throw away your honor just for a few laughs from a couple of lads, I could never.’ Richie’s British voice thick his words with an accent, having the intended effect. A smile tugs up the sides of Eddie’s mouth, even when he desperately tries to hide it, rolling his eyes extravagantly.

‘See that’s what I mean dickhead, don’t do the fucking British guy or I’m dumping you.’

He’s clearly joking, so Richie doesn’t dignify it with a response, though he does snort a little in amusement. ‘Sir, yes sir.’ He calls out long after Eddie has turned his back, cackling when Eddie flips him the bird behind his back. Fondly, Richie follows him through the long corridors, first turning right, then left, left again to eventually enter a massive open space, not to far from the bathroom Richie always uses when he comes to visit.

‘Hey, if you want to get out of here, just use the word salmon for whatever, than we’ll skoot on right out of here, Eddie Spaghetti’, Richie whispers inconspicuously to Eddie, trying to avoid being heard by somebody else. He hopes he succeeded, but by the looks of it, he did.

Eddie shakes his head fondly, his hand interlocking with Richie’s with a warning squeeze.

‘Shut up you idiot’, he mumbles fondly, the look in his eyes radiating nothing but love for the man in next to him.

They spot Anisa first, the sour look on her face melting away when she sees the two of them entering. She grabs two more drinks, balancing a total of three drinks in two hands, and offers it gracefully to them.

‘What took you guys so long?’ The voice of Bon Jovi booms through the room, originating from a djs-table in the left corner, making it hard to understand what she’s saying.

‘Mister clean over here had to be completely dosed up for this occasion, I think he changed cloths like three times, isn’t that right Eds?’ to be fair though, Eddie looks horrendously handsome, it’s almost criminal. His suit accentuates all the good features of his body, which is everything, his dress shoes make a squeaking noise every time they walk over the floor, and his hair is neatly combed back, making him look even more attractive than he already is daily.

A huff is forced out of him when he feels Eddie’s elbow dig slightly into his side. Eddie glare is turned up to a hundred.

‘Do you know how unsanitary it is to not wash every day? Do you know how many germs are transferred onto your hand by just touching a doorknob? If I didn’t wash up you know statistically speaking I have a 40% change of catching a disease? You know this asshole, why would you need to-‘

He’s intercepted by Anisa; ‘you two are so cute together’, and Richie couldn’t agree more. He takes a sip of his drink; which is champagne apparently, and is seconds away from asking Eddie who his boss is supposed to be, when a man Richie has never seen around the office makes an appearance, sliding in front Eddie’s left to give him a tight hug. By doing so, he breaks the link that Richie and Eddie hands still had, rudely shoving Richie slightly back.

He frowns, but does nothing as he waits for Eddie to introduce them. Anisa, who is still standing with them, looks to be as flabbergasted as he is.

‘Eddie, look at you. Handsome as always’, the man compliments while pulling back, his eyes shamelessly raking over Eddie’s form.

Eddie laughs politely, thanking him while reaching for Richie’s hand again. ‘Yeah, good to see you to Seth, this is my boyfriend Richie Tozier’, Eddie explains when the guy, Seth, makes no move to introduce himself.

Seth forces a curt nod towards Richie, not so much as a hello. It irks Richie to no end, but this might the one Eddie’s trying to impress, and Richie is not enough of an asshole to ruin Eddie’s chances because he’s annoyed.

‘I’m going to find Emmet, I’ll see you guys later’, Anisa tells them, as she turns around and walks off, something Richie would love to be doing now too.

He stays rooted to his spot though, trying to make himself as big as possible. It must look a bit ridiculous, but he can’t help it, there’s something about this guy.

‘So, have you managed to talk to the boss man yet? The guy really likes fresh workers.’ He tries to joke, but it falls flat, and Richie can’t help but feel smug and a little sympathetic towards the guy, so he laughs a bit awkwardly. It’s better than not responding at all, he argues, but then Seth levels him with such an annoyed look that Richie can’t help but feel a little intimidated by.

He hasn’t seen that sort of look since Sonya, and for all his joking about her, he really was terrified that she would manage to convince Eddie to stay away from for good. Uneasiness sweeps it’s way through Richie’s body, the only thing keeping him slightly calm and stable, is the hand he’s holding.

Richie tries to change the subject, to distract himself from how weird he finds the guy, by asking how he and Eddie know each other.

‘We collaborate on projects from time to time, Seth works for one of our client companies.’

‘Yeah, and we wouldn’t be coming back to the same firm if it wasn’t for Eddie over here,’ he gestures to Eddie as if Richie didn’t know who the fuck that was, ‘I’ve never had a more dedicated, ambitious, articulated, clever –‘

While he continues to dish out compliments, Richie reaches his arm over Eddie’s shoulders, pulling him flush to his side. Obviously it’s wonderful to hear compliments, and god knows Eddie deserves nothing but that, but it’s quite off putting that the same guy keeps praising him at every turn, and not even acknowledges his boyfriends presence instead being rude.

Eddie response by pressing a kiss to Richie’s cheek, which is a lot of PDA for him, maybe to sooth Richie, maybe because it was an automatic reflex, either way, Richie takes a deep breath and manages to hold his tongue till the guy is finished talking.

‘Yep, that’s my Eds, nothing but the best. I’m lucky to have him.’

He looks up from Eddie’s face to smile brightly in Seth’s vicinity, not even trying to compete with him, just being brutally honest.

‘He’s just as ambitious at home by the way, you should see the poses he can bend into when we’re-‘

‘Beep beep, Richie’, Eddie’s voice, sharp as the edge of a knife cuts in. ‘Don’t you dare finish that sentence you prick. And don’t call me that.’

Richie cackles, gripping his stomach with the one hand that isn’t occupied to stop himself from doubling over, Eddie’s angry face only making it worse.

‘Why do you call him Eds? He told you he doesn’t like that.’

Richie’s head snaps back up again, and this time, he feels actual anger. It’s one thing to flirt with Eddie in front of him, or be rude to him, Richie can deal with that, at least on the outside. But insulting their nicknames? He knows for a fact Eddie only tells him to stop calling him that out of habit, Eddie having admit to that himself, but this guy had no right commenting on it.

Eddie himself seems agitated now, in a truly fashion, one that he has never used to talk to Richie, but before he can say anything, another man steps their way, extending his hand and waiting for Eddie to shake it.

‘Mister Duke, how are you sir?’ Eddie asks a little nervously, and Richie lets his arm drop down. He refuses to let Eddie be denied this opportunity by homophobia, even if he isn’t sure that the man is homophobic, he’s not ready to take any changes.

With a gesture over his shoulder, Eddie follows who Richie presumes is his boss over to a table with man who looked like they stepped right out of the TV show suits, but Richie declines to walk with him.

Eddie needs a chance to prove himself, and Richie was just going to support him from where he was standing.

For a minute, he forgets Seth is still standing with him, until he opens his mouth again.

‘You know you’re only dragging him down right?’ He asks cruelly.

Richie frowns at him, his hands closed in fists, trying to lure himself away from his breaking point.

‘He would do much better with me. What do you have to offer? Money? I’ve got plenty of that, and at least I have status. Some small town comedian who flunked at his show that one time, and still hasn’t made a comeback yet. You look about as disheveled as a homeless men, and I can’t say I see much love between the two of you. You annoy him, and you might find it funny, respectable people don’t. Leave him before you ruin him like you ruined yourself. I could take better care of him than you ever could.’

After his monologue, he stares Richie down with a cocky expression, seemingly daring Richie to respond. When he doesn’t get one in ten seconds, he trudges on, probably to on to the next person to bother.

Richie feels like all the bones in his body have turned to liquid as he struggles to stay upright. For a moment he gazes around the room in shame, because it seems like a scene from a movie where everyone looks on to the bully annihilating some nerd, as that is the exact same emotion Richie comprehends, before he realizes that everyone is caught up in their own conversation, and he too walks off, going to the bathroom.

He knows Eddie will search for him when he’s done with his conversation, but for a moment that thought is put on the back-burner as he starts to get a little faint. It takes longer than it usually does to reach the toilet door, in the meanwhile he’s had to shrug Emmet of and ignore Anisa’s callout, but none of that matters when he finally gets there.

As soon as the door closes behind him, a loud sob leaves his throat. Only one sob is allowed to leave his lips, he argues with himself, so he resumes to silent tears only after that.

Overreactor, his traitorous mind hisses at him, and he knows it’s right, but he can’t help how he feels. He survived a fucking clown alien attacking him, and even that didn’t make him cry until he thought Eddie might have died.

However, he knows that Seth had a point, Richie is really not good enough for Eddie. And maybe Seth could be, at the very least, he did have a stable job, and he thinks highly of Eddie, maybe he was right, and he should leave Eddie so he can grow to his full potential.

Some times goes by while he’s thinking it over, and in the meanwhile he has moved to wash his face by the washing bins, scrubbing the area around his eyes to make it appear like he wasn’t crying. As he’s doing this, he hears Eddie call out to him. ‘Hey dickhead, you in here?’

The door whips open, clashing against the wall with a loud bang so hard that Richie flinches for a moment. A worried looking Eddie is standing in the door opening, his tie undone atop his blazer, and his frantic eyes searching the door, calming down slightly when he sees Richie.

‘Hey, why are you taking so long, you fall in the toilet or something?’ Eddie tries, a futile attempt at ignorance, Richie can clearly see how perturbed he is, but he’s kind enough to let Richie come to him.

Instead of telling Eddie the things that are on his mind, Richie tries to force a way around the topic, by using humor and creating a joke. ‘Well Eds, I was just about to call your mom, to declare my love for her.’

‘Richie’, Eddie sighs, running a hand over his face like he’s trying to mentally prepare himself? By the tone of his voice, Richie understands that Eddie is asking him to tell the truth, to speak what’s on his mind, but that can be so hard sometimes, so in lieu of having a conversation with Eddie, Richie starts to cry.

A hand pushes it’s way up to his mouth, trying to desperately to muffle the cries of despair, shame was again white hot present in his mind. Eddie looks shocked for about a second flat, before rushing over to Richie, grabbing his neck and pushing his head against the crook of his shoulder, rubbing his own hand up and down Richie’s back, and the other one through his hair.

‘Rich, it’s okay. You can talk to me dumbass, that’s what boyfriends are supposed to do.’

There’s nothing but silence for a few minutes, which Eddie grants Richie, just trying to get him to calm down.

‘do you ever doubt our relationship?’ Richie finally asks, feeling the way Eddie’s entire body freezes up as if he was told Pennywise was back.

Richie hurries to continue. ‘I mean, if I’d had to choose between me and Seth, I’d pick Seth too. He has a good job and I might be out of one after waiting so long to go on stage again, and I look ridicules, and I push your buttons,’ Richie takes a break to gulp in a large gush of air. ’I’m just saying, I’d get if you would want to break up with me.’

Yet, when Eddie pulls back slightly, Richie panics before letting him get too far. Eddie laughs again, still close enough that their noses are pressed together with Richie bend down the way he is.

‘Hey Rich, you’re really fucking stupid you know that?’ Eddie says with a voice so incredibly soft and fond, Richie nearly melts to a puddle. He’s still stroking curl after curl on Richie’s head, comforting him best he can when they’re in a public bathroom.

‘You’ll have a job. You’re so good at being funny Richie. Even if I don’t say that enough. Besides, let’s say you don’t, you will but just hypothetically, I don’t care about that. I only want to spend time with you. You dress like a toddler, but I like that, it makes you look goofy, just like your personality.’

With a smile that’s showing his teeth, Eddie presses a quick kiss on Richie’s mouth, pulling back fast and firing two more in rapid succession.

‘I love you Rich. Not fucking Seth, Fuck that guy. I could never want to be with him, ever. I mean it when I say I love you dickwad, despite my questionable decision, I choose you.’

Richie giggles, hearty when Eddie stands on his tippy toes to kiss his forehead, and for a moment he feels like he’s five years old. He’s glad to have Eddie, and he’s even more satisfied that Eddie wants him back. Not amnesia could stand in their way, he’s so idiotic to believe a guy from Eddie’s fucking job could.

‘Now, come on. First I have to kick Seth’s ass for making my boyfriend cry. I have to set an example here. Then we’ll go home and cuddle okay? We'll clean the salmon or whatever the fuck sentence I'm supposed to make with that and skoot on home’

Richie shakes his head negatively, ‘what about your job promotion?’

As if suddenly remembering so, Eddie grins like a cat that go the cream.

‘Don’t worry about that, I got the job.’

When they cuddle at night in their bad, after a heavy make out session, and a small skype party with the losers in honor of Eddie’s promotion, Richie falls asleep, safely knowing that Eddie was with him, and he no matter what, he wasn’t leaving.

#reddie #reddie fluff #some jealousy #eddie kaspbrack #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak imagine #richie tozier imagine #My writing #it chapter two imagine #I wrote this way too late

100 notes · View notes

alwaysupatnight · 4 years

Note

Send you a character impressions ask: Arthur Morgan (so you can talk about your soft cowboy) and Seth Gecko, Kate Fuller, and... OH let's hear about Daryl Dixon too!

Seth Gecko

First impression: I’d never seen the movie okay. I didn’t know what to expect from him at all!! I honestly wasn’t sure I even liked him that much until like that scene where he punches out Chet at the Twister.

Impression now: THE TRASHY AF LOVE OF MY LIFE. I have so many feelings about Seth Gecko it’d be impossible to list them all here. I think about him nearly every damn day.

Favorite moment: I think it’d have to be in s3 when he’s trying to stop Kate from going after Amaru with the shotgun and how he’s like “easy, easy” at her for getting too riled up. XD SHE IS RUNNING HEADFIRST INTO DANGER ALREADY AND HE IS TRYING TO PROTECT HER. But there’s honestly so many favorite moments. But also jfc that shotgun... all the phallic symbolism there. 👀

Idea for a story: SO MANY IDEAS. THEY JUST NEVER STOP. My latest one is this one where he and Richie are both coyote shifters. And I’ve had this idea for YEARS, but I’m just starting to explore it now.

Unpopular opinion: Seth is not the smooth mfer everyone thinks he is. He is awkward and dorky af and just really great at hiding that. XD And he is not adventurous in bed. AT ALL. HE DOES NOT WANT ANYTHING UP HIS ASS ALRIGHT. Unless, of course, if Kate is suggesting it…

Favorite relationship: SethKate obviously. :P

Favorite headcanon: SETH HAS A PRAISE KINK. LBR HE LOVES TO BE BOSSED AROUND BY KATE. HE JUST WANTS TO DO A GOOD JOB.

Kate Fuller

First impression: MY SUN AND STARS. I thought she was precious. Although maybe that was me projecting on Madie because I loved her as Ethel in Shameless so much. I really only watched FDTD because of her.

Impression now: MY SUN AND STARS. I LOVE THIS GIRL SO MUCH. UGH. JUST HER HEART. HER GOODNESS. HOW PROACTIVE OF A CHARACTER SHE IS. HOW SHE’S ALWAYS LIGHTING A FIRE UNDER ALL THE BOYS’ ASSES BECAUSE WITHOUT HER NOTHING WOULD EVER GET DONE. She’s definitely one of my favorite characters of all time now. I love that she’s not afraid to go toe-to-toe with some supernatural assholes (and a couple of regular ones too) even though she is TINY. She is cute, but she WILL FIGHT. I just love that about her so much. And how every action of hers comes from a place of love. But she’s not perfect, and she may be good, but she is NOT nice and WILL ABOSLUTELY WRECK YOU.

Favorite moment: There are so many, honestly. idk how to pick. But I love during the Mexican Honeymoon how she’s giving Seth so much shit for bungling the bank heist and then making excuses later. She’s not just gonna sit and take it okay. She’s giving him an earful about it and he’s gonna LISTEN DAMMIT.

Idea for a story: Well, I already mentioned the coyote shifters thing… There’s also the Yellowstone road trip thing I’ve been working on. And then the two alternate scenarios of Seth running into her at Jed’s that @yossariandawn persuaded me to write that we were coming up with ideas for yesterday. XD So I started working on a couple little ficlets for that. One where Kate is shackled, and another where Seth walks in on Richie and Kate holding hands during the blood bond, and it’s an awkward little parallel to the Twister “you show me yours, I’ll show you mine” bit. XD

Unpopular opinion: idk that this is an unpopular opinion necessarily, but some people don’t like to acknowledge or just don’t realize how much of a shit stirrer she really is!!

Favorite relationship: Sethkate.

Favorite headcanon: Okay, so I’ve definitely mentioned before that I headcanon that she is a Cancer sign. But after learning more about astrology, I think she’s definitely also an Aries moon. She can be really impulsive when she’s emotional, and she’s also got an anger streak lbr!!

Send Me a Character!!

Arthur Morgan

First impression: SERIAL KILLER!! Literally the first video I saw of someone playing him he was running people over in Saint Denis with his horse and racking up a huge bounty on his head. XD I really thought this game was just Grand Theft Horsey. :P

Impression now: LISTEN. I AM STILL CRYING OVER HIM THREE YEARS LATER OKAY LEAVE ME ALONE. XD

Favorite moment: There’s lots, but one of my favorites is in this scene with his friend and French artist Charles Châtenay where he’s watching a brawl break out at an art gallery over some risqué art that Charles painted. Charles gets a beating and Arthur is just laughing at him and being entertained by it all. XD I LOVE HIS LAUGH THERE SO MUCH. ONE OF THE FEW TIMES HE ACTUALLY ENJOYS HIMSELF. ARTHUR DESERVED HAPPINESS.

[Here] is a video if you wanna watch that scene for yourself. XD

Idea for a story: I did have an idea for a kind of time travel/fix-it fic that is also an Arthur/OFC story… I probably won’t write it now, but it’s like after his death in the game he time travels to the present day because of this talisman he got from a Native American chief and he meets a woman named Emma and they fall in love and get married and are expecting their first kid. BUT THEN. EMMA GETS SENT BACK IN TIME TO BEFORE THE BLACKWATER CATASTROPHE. AND PAST ARTHUR DOESN’T KNOW HER. BUT HE FALLS IN LOVE WITH HER ALL OVER AGAIN. lmfao it’s complicated which is why I never actually wrote it because I couldn’t figure out how to tell that story… But it was supposed to be like Outlander in reverse kinda...

Unpopular opinion: MARY LINTON IS TOXIC AF AND ARTHUR DESERVED BETTER

Favorite relationship: I think that has to go to Arthur & Hosea. THAT’S HIS REAL DAD OKAY. IDGAF. I just love how patient he is with Arthur, even if he teases him sometimes. It’s always really affectionate and playful. And I didn’t really ship Arthur with anyone in the game, but if I did it would’ve been with Charlotte!! I loved their scenes so much!!

Favorite headcanon: He didn’t actually die… and he lived out his days to the age of 100+. He was around for the invention of microwaves and television and pop music. He and Jack hung out sometimes and they celebrated the release of Jack’s first novel together. lmfao

Daryl Dixon

First impression: Umm I think I thought he was kinda cute. XD Him throwing the squirrels at Rick was funny too.

Impression now: idk I stopped watching that show years ago. But when I quit the series, he and Beth were my everything so I know I had a lot of feelings about him.

Favorite moment: The white trash brunch and “Oh” scenes. He was just so soft and open with Beth. He was TRYING.

Idea for a story: I don’t write for that fandom anymore and never will again. But I did have a couple stories in the works though. One was a ZA fic where he and Beth are married with a newborn at the start of the apocalypse and it just follows the first few episodes with some changes because it’s also set a few years later. And another story I had was a singer!Beth au where she’s just getting famous and is dating Daryl and they have to keep their relationship a secret. And there were definitely fights with paparazzi planned. lol And a lot of sneaking around.

Unpopular opinion: I can’t think of anything.

Favorite relationship: Bethyl. There was a quote by NR where he said something like when Daryl loves, it’s for life? I still maintain that there will never be anyone else. Even if there is later in the show, there isn’t. lol

Favorite headcanon: That Merle is actually his biological father... lol

#replies

5 notes · View notes

princecupcakee · 4 years

Text

Park Bench | Reddie

Read on AO3

Rating: E

Pairing: Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak

Word Count: 3,320

Chapter: 2/8

Past Chapters: Chapter 1 (AO3)

Next Chapters: Chapter 3 (AO3), Chapter 4 (AO3)

Summary: Recently divorced and ‘incapable of love’, Eddie Kaspbrak moves to Los Angeles for work and a small, small hope of a fresh start. Broken up and never dated again, Richie Tozier tries to get back into love with help from his love of music. Quickly meeting eyes and one concert later, they think that maybe love isn’t that bad. So they try it one more time.

Chapter 2: What If Eddie Kaspbrak Was?, What If Richie Tozier Wasn’t? & Richie Tozier And Eddie Kaspbrak Have Breakfast

Tags/Warnings: Angst / Unhappy Ending / theres only one sex scene but this is explicit anyway / Bisexual Richie Tozier / Gay Eddie Kaspbrak / Post-Divorce / Implied/Referenced Cheating / Inspired By Remembering Sunday (All Time Low) / Inspired by The Book Ninja by Ali Berg / Implied/Referenced Child Abuse / Implied/Referenced Abuse / Implied/Referenced Manipulation

Tag-list: @richietoaster, @s-s-georgie, @mikeuris, @gazebobullshit, @that-weird-girls-blog, @tozierking, @thoughtfullyyoungduck, @s-onora, @bellarosewrites, @lermanslogan, @ambitiousskychild, @ghostnebula, @vanillaredvelvet,

(Ask if you wanna be on the tag-list!!)

Chapter 2

What If Eddie Kaspbrak Was?

He loves Beverly, he really does, but right now, in this gigantic crowd of people, he hates her. Really, really hates her. He thinks that everything and everyone (mildly excluding Ben, Beverly, Bill, Mike, and Mr. cute-Hawaiian-shirt guy-with-huge glasses-who’s-name-is-apparently-Richie) is out to kill him. Two groups of teenagers tried to sell him drugs, or something —he wouldn’t know. He ran away before they could say anything.

It was loud, and hot, and made Eddie, really, really uncomfortable. As much as he tried to avoid the touches of every person jumping around to whatever incomprehensible song was being shouted —yes, he meant shouted — it was too cramped. “You okay there?” Eddie heard a voice behind him ask, loudly. As he looked in that direction, Eddie decided that speaking would be useless, so he simply shook his head. He let Mr. cute-Hawaiian-shirt guy-with-huge glasses-who’s-name-is-apparently-Richie or, simply, Richie, take his hand and lead him out. “You looked really uncomfortable,” Richie smiled, laughing a bit.

“Uh, yeah, don’t do that well with big crowds and everything,” Eddie shrugged, attempting to look ‘cool.’

Richie laughed, “Lets go.”

“But, the concert?”

“I’ve seen ‘em before,” Richie shook his head, “I’ll take you back home, its pretty late anyway.”

“Thanks,” Eddie smiled as he took Richie’s outstretched hand.

“Where is your place?” Richie asked him, crossing the pedestrian.

“I uh, live with Ben and Bev.”

“That mansion? Well, I guess when the husband is an architect and the wife is a designer you get the Buckingham fucking Palace.” Eddie laughed at that (as much as he tried to hide it.)

“But, yeah, I’m staying at Ben and Bev’s while I’m here.”

“While you’re here?” Richie nods

“I don’t live in LA, I’m from New York,” Eddie replied.

“I didn’t think you were from here,” Richie smiled, walking backward to face Eddie.

“That’s dangerous.”

“And thats,” Richie points at Eddie “no fun.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, moving away from the topic, “Its like you guys have your own planet here,” he says, scanning the scenery.

“Says the New Yorker,” Richie said sarcastically.

Eddie gave him a questioning look, trying to hide a smile. “You know, all the big pretty buildings and broadway, and all the big movies,” Richie jokes in a horrible Brooklyn accent.

“Don’t-don’t do that,” Eddie shakes his head.

“Thats my career.” Richie grinned walking into the subway.

Eddie ignored that, “I thought LA was all cars?” He asked.

“It is. I’m doing a kind of project thing though,” Richie smiles talking Eddie’s hand. That slightly throwing Eddie off. “See?” Richie points to a vinyl (yes, Eddie learned the word) with their intertwined fingers.

“I don’t think I understand,” Eddie says looking at Richie.

“I don’t think you need to,” Richie winks, seating Eddie further from the vinyl.

“For a comedian, you’re not funny.”

“Come to one of my shows then. Got one tomorrow night.” Richie winks.

“Sure.”

Richie stops himself before he says ‘its a date.’

“Where did you go?” Beverly asked Eddie as he walked into the kitchen where the rest of the group was standing.

“I went back here,” Eddie says, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the room as he holds back a ‘and kind of got a date. Kind of. Well, no it isn’t a date. I’m just gonna watch his show-’

“Richie ‘went back here,’ too?”

“Oh- no, he just… it was really late and he-he walked and rode the train with me back here.” Eddie replied. Ben, Beverly, Bill, and Mike all exchanged looks while he wasn’t looking. “I uh- speaking of Richie though, what does he even do?” He asked, trying to be subtle. Keyword: trying.

Ben tried to hide a laugh, “Besides working at the shop he does some comedy, I thought we told you already?”

“Yeah, yeah, uh anyway, does he even have shows?”

Deciding that he didn’t want this conversation to last too long since Eddie would never bring up what he really wants to say, “He’s got a show tomorrow n-night, I think,” Bill says looking at Ben and Beverly, “Think we can watch it?”

“Totally, its at a bar not too far from here,” Ben smiles.

“Yeah, sure, why not,” Eddie says quickly, thankful that his friends ‘didn’t’ notice how much he wanted to go.

~~~

Eddie was alone on Sunday morning, tired after the concert the night before, —despite not being there for half of it—and he woke up at around 10. His four other momentary housemates were out for the day on whatever they were planning on doing on a Sunday morning in Los Angeles —he wondered what there is to do. Which made Eddie feel painfully single, but also made him feel a little better. An abnormal creek came from downstairs he shut the door to his bedroom, ‘I must’ve just imagined it, I need coffee.’

A loud crash sound rang inside the house and followed Eddie to the first floor. He ran into the kitchen, grabbed the first thing he could find, and rushed toward the direction of the sound, prepared to hit. “Holy fuck, please no!” Richie shouted, hands above his head, dropping the coat rack he was trying to put straight back up. Eddie dropped the pan in his hands and sighed, relieved. “What the fuck is this? Tangled?” Richie laughed, breathlessly.

“Asshole. I thought there was some, I don’t know, a psychopathic- killer- clown that broke into the house out to kill me.”

“I- I’m not even gonna fucking ask.”

Eddie sighs and rolls his eyes, ”why are you here anyway?”

“Just picking up something, what are you doing here?” Richie asked, ‘well shit. Now I look like an idiot.’

“Told you. I’m staying here.” Eddie answered returning the pan to the kitchen.

“Uh, right,” Richie awkwardly said, wanting to fill the silence. As much as he wanted to ask, ‘are you coming to my show tonight?’ He didn’t and instead, “so, how’s your mom doing? She okay after last night?”

“Ew. That’s disgusting,” Eddie said his face scrunching up, “I, uh, I’m going.”

As if he read Richie’s mind he clarified, “I’m going to your show.”

“Neat.” Richie smiled widely, “uh no. Not neat. No! Not that is it’s ‘not neat’ for you to come to my show, I mean not neat. Like, not the word ‘neat’. Jeez. Uh—“

“Yeah, neat.” Eddie laughed, “weren’t you going to get something?” He knew he was winning this.

“Oh right, uh,” The man in glasses began to walk towards the library —it wasn’t actually a library just an extra room Ben and Beverly filled with books and music things (Eddie honestly didn't know what they were). Again, their house is fucking like a mansion— and Richie came out with vinyl in his hands, “they borrowed it,” He said shaking it.

“Have you heard it before?”

“I don’t think so,” Eddie says walking closer.

“Lets go then,” Richie smirks going back into the room, putting in the vinyl. ‘Sittin' in the kitchen, a house in Macon’ rang the player, ‘Loretta's singing on the radio’

"Smell of coffee, eggs, and bacon” Richie sung.

“What is that?” Eddie asked.

“‘Car Wheels On A Gravel Road’, Lucinda Williams,” Richie replied just as the same line played.

“What kind of song even is that? Its all guitar but not-”

“First, its country and rock. Alt-Country. Second, not all songs with guitars have to sound like ‘The Carpal Tunnel Of Love’ or something,”

“I don’t even wanna what that is,” Eddie rolled his eyes, looking at the player —he didn’t actually know what it was called.

“You live under a rock. Not even a single rock— you-you live in a fucking cave.”

“Half the people I know don’t know what that is.” But Richie was already picking up a new vinyl — ‘is that a fucking sheep?’ Eddie wondered once he saw the cover.

Richie set the —‘what the fuck is that’ Eddie thought— on a place over the vinyl. “We take sour sips from life's lush lips” Richie sung, smiling at Eddie.

“Its so loud. What the fuck is that?” Richie just kept on singing.

“Whoa-oh, we're so miserable and stunning,” Richie sang. As, much as Eddie didn’t want to admit it, he sounded amazing.

“This is so loud. I’m not doing this,” Eddie said walking out of the room. The song being loud was the reason, he promised. It wasn’t because he knew he would lose it if he kept going, it was just loud.

“Hey, what? Eddie, wait!” Richie said stopping the music and tripping over himself to get to the door. “Have you been walking through life with earplugs on? Jeez,” Richie checked his watch, “shit, I’m gonna head back to the store. I’ll see you tonight?”

Eddie thought his heart stopped for a moment, and then he remembered he was going to Richie’s show. Nothing more. Because it shouldn’t be anything more. “Yeah,” Eddie said, watching as Richie walked out the door.

~~~

Eddie was alone in his room Sunday night, (or Monday morning? He couldn’t tell) tired of laughing, tired of being so far away from Richie. His set was amazing (not that Eddie would tell him that.) So maybe he was feeling something. Maybe he was feeling a lot. That doesn’t mean he must fall into Richie's arms. Or should fall into his arms —he thinks that Richie definitely can his hands and shoulders and just his arms are so big. He knows he shouldn’t fall in love again. The last time didn’t do well for him, and he had known her for years before they even started dating. And much longer before they got married. He shouldn’t be feeling this. But what if he was?

What If Richie Tozier Wasn’t?

As he walked out of the door from the Marsh’s house, he headed for the trains once again. Something in his head was pulling him away, not wanting him to continue the project, but what if its what’s good for him? What if Eddie didn’t like him the same way? This might continue to be like Connor. I mean, they saw each other in the store and started talking after ditching a concert? Is that how love was supposed to go? How is love supposed to go? On the other hand, Ben and Bev seem to like him. He trusts Ben and Bev. He trusts Eddie. But what if Eddie shouldn’t be trusted? This was something all too fragile.

Richie walked into the train, looking down on the vinyl he played Eddie. He took out the Sharpie from his pocket prepared to write on ‘Car Wheels On A Gravel Road’ but then his phone let out a ‘ping’ He opened his phone to a group chat with Stan, Patty, Ben, and Bev called: ‘The Four Hets Who Help With The Vinyl Project Thing’ —Richie was also surprised that it fits there.

Patty: Good luck on your date today!!! Stan: Yeah, have fun, rich. Ben: Tell us everything once its done :) Ben: By the way, Stan and Patty, we’re almost there. Stan: See you guys. Bev: Thats great and I absolutely love that for you. But I thought you were with [redacted] [Bev Deleted a Message.]

Richie didn’t catch what Beverly had written, but if it was deleted it probably wasn’t important. Richie opened the mail app on his phone to see the email that got him this date again. He had gotten it the day after he left Hot Fuss on the train, and he, Patty, and Stan had eaten out that night.

Subject: I found your vinyl From: Adam Wilson <@AdAmWIlsOn> To: Richie Toz <@Remembering_Records>

‘Hey, Richie. My name’s Adam. I found the Hot Fuss album you left on the train a few weeks ago. I used to love listening to The Killers but work took so much of my time that I didn’t get to listen to them much anymore, but when I listened to your album, I felt like I finally relaxed, you know? I absolutely love Mr. Brightside but Somebody Told Me is still running through my head (Smile Like You Mean it doesn’t even need to be said. Its perfect. Oh man but then there’s also All These Things That I’ve Done. The Killers are just perfect.)

I should probably tell you somethings about me. I’m a doctor. I moved here from Manchester, UK, around a week ago to start a new job. I also volunteer at animal shelters in my spare time.

If I don’t sound like a serial killer and you’re interested, I really would love a date.

P.S. Mr. Brightside or Miss Atomic Bomb?

Richie had replied to him simply and fairly quickly (he chose Mr. Brightside.) He was heading there now, over to a restaurant downtown. He looked back down at the vinyl in his hands, just as he remembered Eddie smile and laugh awkwardly when he didn’t know what was going on. There was something about Eddie. Richie had no clue what it was, or what it made him feel, but there was definitely something there. He’s never felt this way before. Not with his friends, not with his hookups, not with Connor. It isn’t that he didn’t like it. He just had to be careful with it.

On second thought, maybe he shouldn’t leave them in the subway. He has time to bring them home first, right?

~~~

Richie walked into the restaurant, almost an hour late. By the time he had gotten home, he and Adam were already supposed to be meeting up, since the train he was previously on was going in the opposite direction. He then decided that riding his car would be faster than taking the trains, but the traffic was unbearable. He had taken a few wrong turns heading to the restaurant, too. Not that he didn’t know the place, there was a concert a few streets away that blocked some of the streets. So, exactly 53 minutes and 20 seconds late for his date, he stood there. As expected, Adam wasn’t there anymore.

Richie walked into the backseat of his car, kicking the chair in front of him. Of course, he messed up his first date in years. Fucking years. The one guy was interested in him, now gone, because he- what was he even doing? If he just dropped the two pieces of vinyl, he could’ve gotten this date and would’ve had two or more possible other ones. He wouldn’t blame Eddie for this failed date. He couldn’t. That was all on him.

At least he picked a restaurant close to the bar he was doing his show at. Richie wiped at his tears and climbed into the front of the car. Driving down a few streets, he walked up to the ‘Golden Rookie’ sign at the front of his favourite bar. Taking a deep breath, and willing himself not to puke, he jogged backstage to see Riley rolling her eyes at him.

“Failed date,” Richie smiled jogging on to the stage.

“Hello and goodnight, everybody!” he began, earning applause from a few of the regulars. "So, I checked Twitter this morning and..." he began slightly walking around the stage. He scanned the room, and there, far at the back was Eddie Kaspbrak, slightly smiling at the stage. Eddie was still in his work clothes, a suit and tie. His grin somehow both left and widened the moment they caught eyes.

When Richie got home that night, he thought that his set was the best one he’s done in a while. He wondered why.

Richie Tozier And Eddie Kaspbrak Have Breakfast Eddie wondered what that sound was. It was loud, he didn’t think it was loud for anyone else. It sounded- it sounded like if a pebble hit glass without breaking it. Weird. Eddie looked around the room, the continuous clattering waking him up. “What the fuck is that?” He muttered, walking over to the window. Richie Tozier was standing outside his window, waving at him like a maniac. “What the fuck are you doing here? Its the middle of the night, Richie!” Eddie whispered loudly (he wondered how that worked) once he opened his window.

“Its actually Tuesday morning,” Richie smiled, “C’ mere!”

Eddie rolled his eyes, “go to the front fucking door.”

He changed clothes quickly, trying not to look like he fixed up before seeing Richie. What was he doing? Its the middle of the- its Monday morning, and he's going to go with a stranger to who knows where. He's probably going insane. This was probably a dream, why would this happen if he were awake? Though, a part of him wished it wasn't a dream.

Down the stairs and out the door on to the porch, “What the fuck Richie? Its,” he looked at his phone, “its five in the morning.” He saw a guitar around Richie’s shoulders, (huge shoulders) deciding not to ask.

Richie hummed in agreement. “Yeah, we’re getting breakfast,” Richie said as he locks fingers with Eddie.

“Its five in the morning,” Eddie repeated.

“We’re getting breakfast.”

“At… five in the fucking morning?”

“Yup. There’s a nice diner somewhere here, we can walk.”

“I hope you know I think you’re crazy. The sun isn’t even up.” Richie just nodded.

The two walked to the diner together in silence. Eddie wasn’t uncomfortable, just, surprised. There was a ‘comfortable’ silence between the two, Eddie never really had that before. He was always used to the controlling words, and reminders and the arguing with Myra. He didn’t see his friends much because of work, so when they would meet up, there was never silence. And now there’s Richie, who he barely knows anything about, holding his hand at a time too early, as they walk towards a diner in a city Eddie doesn’t even live in. ‘Its nice’ he thinks, as they walk into the diner. It surprises Eddie, how much it looks like the diners in movies. But everything (and everyone- some more than others) in Los Angeles surprise him. ‘Most things surprise me’, he guesses, ‘I don’t go out much.’ But he knew better than that.

The two took their orders hands still intertwined under the table. “Why are we here?” Eddie asked, now sitting across from Richie.

“Ask that again in,” Richie looked down at his watch, “In 32 minutes, and 19 seconds.”

“Thats weird, but you aren’t going to tell me anything about that until then.”

“Right. So, lets talk about something else. How’d you like my show?”

“You like your praise. Its not that bad.”

“Just ‘not that bad’?”

“Yup, just ‘not that bad.’”

“I had a clear view of you from the stage. I didn’t know you could smile, Eds.”

“Don’t call me ‘Eds.’ Not my name.”

“Whatever you say, Spaghetti,” Richie said as Eddie rolled his eyes, “Do you have work today?”

“Actually, no. Bill and Mike are doing all I need today since I covered them a few days ago. Why?”

“Mind if I borrowed you for the rest of the day?” Richie smirked. (Eddie wanted to hate that smirk, he really did, he just couldn’t.)

“Yes. I do mind. I need a break.”

“Exactly, I’m giving you the world’s best break.”

Eddie sighed, “Please don’t. I’m scared.”

“Come on, I know you missed me.”

“I didn’t. I really didn’t.” He did. “You know what, whatever. Just- why am I here?”

“Look out the window,” Richie nodded.

“Look out the- what?” Eddie said, confused. He turned his head and, "Woah."

Eddie saw, through the trees and the buildings on the horizon, a soft sunrise. Whoever painted the sky in the early mornings, Eddie praised them. “Its pretty, right?”

“Yeah,” Eddie stuttered, looking over at Richie, who was grinning widely.

“You should see the sunset after it rains. Its beautiful,” Richie held back, ‘kinda like you’.

#reddie #reddie fic #it #it chap one #it chap two #remembering Sunday + The book ninja au

22 notes · View notes

antisociallilbrat · 4 years

Text

Scandalous Chp. 4

Read on Ao3

Chapter 3

Chapter 5

Warnings: NSFW, and S word used like once, basically plot and porn

A/N: Not beta read this time

“But Billllll she’s really cute and I think you should give her a chance. Have I ever steered you wrong before?”

“Yes, I duh-dated you.”

Beverly then proceeds to (understandably) hit him upside the head. “Because we worked through all our issues, and you’re my best friend now; I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.” She pulls her phone out of her back pocket, presumably to show him pictures of the person of the week she’s decided Bill would be good with.

“Look at her! Her name is Audra, and you can be on a date with her tonight! I’ve told her all about you and she’s interested.” She says as she thrusts her phone is his face, forcing him to look.

Audra was, admittedly, pretty. Dark brown hair, tan skin, golden eyes, Bill wasn’t blind. Slumping back in the booth, his annual midweek brunch with Bev has yet again turned into a ‘Let’s get Bill a date!’ game. “O-okay. Give me her nuh-number. I can’t go on a d-duh-date tonight but maybe I’ll text her.” He’s got to relent to some extent, Bev is really insistent when she sets her mind to something. Taking his phone out he passes it to Beverly, who excitedly takes it from him.

Bev tried (and failed) to conceal her excitement as she made a contact for Audra on his phone. Passing it back to him, her face turns into a look of curiosity, “What’s got you all tied up tonight Big Bill?”

“I’m guh-getting extra help from Pr-Professor Uris on his cal pr-project.” He was most definitely not getting help from his professor tonight, if anything, he’d be the one helping. Bev didn’t need to know that. Or the fact that Audra’s number is going to die in his phone.

“For someone so bad at math, you’re such a teacher’s pet.”

“You have h-him too, you know how hard his club-class is. And I am not a tuh-teachers pet!” Bill averts his eyes from Bev, focusing on drawing shapes in the leftover syrup from his pancakes with his fork.

“Mhm, be careful Bill, or his husband Peter may think you’re his side piece or something,” She jokes, (if she only knew) brightly smiling. Meanwhile Bill’s blood runs cold.

“How do you know h-his husband’s nuh-name?” The question comes out more accusatory than he means to and Bev looks immediately taken back. His face softens, “It’s just a l-little weird that you kn-know that.”

She regains her composure, “Yeah well, Professor Richie (who Bill knows is her music theory professor and insists on going by his first name) is a blabber mouth. He’s always talking about Stan and his husband Peter. Why does it matter so much to you anyways?”

Bill remains silent, he’s too jealous to reply. He knows he shouldn’t feel jealous, in fact it’s absurd for him to even feel that way. He knows that Prof-Stan is married, but that doesn’t make the fact that now he knows his husband’s name any easier to stomach. He’s the unknown homewrecker, the one being cheated with, not on. Still, he is a selfish young adult, he wants Stan all to himself.

Bev breaks him from his thoughts, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a crush on him,” she says with a smug smile over her cup of coffee.

He can only huff out a “Shut up B-Bev.”

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

He’s still trying to shake off the cold feeling of jealousy in the pit of his stomach when he’s opening the door to Stan’s office that evening. He’s the one have sex with Stan tonight, not Peter. Probably.

Though he’s disappointed when he opens the door to see Stan at his desk, piles of paper meticulously placed in stacks, Stan obviously in the middle of grading papers. He doesn’t even seem to hear Bill enter the room.

Sighing, Bill sets his bag down by the door. It’s later in the evening so no students will be coming by. Stan still doesn’t hear Bill even when he walks up behind him, too busy making angry red marks across a paper. Leaning down, Bill starts to lightly kiss to up Stan’s neck, muttering out a hello.

“Bill? I thought I texted you not tonight. Fuck, must’ve slipped my mind,” Despite his words, Stan runs a hand through his curls and leans his head back, giving Bill more access to his neck.

“Well I’m huh-here now,” He nips lightly at Stan’s ear, causing his breath to hitch.

“Billy I’m running behind on grading these papers. I really can’t tonight.”

Bill is not deterred, he can always change Stan’s mind. Starting to massage Stan’s shoulders, which are quite tense, “Wh-what did I make?”

Stan huffs out a laugh, “I gave you seventy three. I had to go back and correct some of your answers. You need to at least make it look like you’re attempting in this class.”

“Why would I do th-that? You always huh-help me out, let me return the f-f-favor.”

Bill yelps as Stan spins around in his chair suddenly and pulls Bill down on him. He scrambles awkwardly for a minute till he’s finally straddling Stan’s lap.

“Now Bill what did I just say?” He runs a hand through Bill’s hair and down his neck, giving it a quick, brief, squeeze before letting it rest against the growing tent in his pants.

“Th-that you’re ruh-running behind on gr-grading p-p-p-p-” Fuck, his stutter always get worse when he’s turned on.

“Come on, spit it out Billy,” Stan says with a squeeze of his hand.

“That you’re running be-behind on grading p-p-p-papers.” His hips push themselves closer of their own volition into Stan’s hand, his cock already starting to throb with how hard it is.

“That’s right. And now you just had to get me all riled up,” for emphasize Stan grinds his hips up so that Bill can feel how hard he is along the curve of his ass, “Now I still have to grade them Billy, the question is, can you be a good boy?”

“Yuh-yuh-yes sir! I can be g-g-g-g-good!” God, if Stan doesn’t stick something anywhere in Bill, he feels like he might just explode.

“Good, now go prep yourself for me.” With that, Stan is guiding Bill to get off his lap.

Bill practically dashes (God, he’s so desperate for it) to his bag on the floor, pulling out lube and a condom. When he turns around, he is annoyed to see Stan yet again back at his desk grading papers. What the hell? He’s supposed to be done grading papers and putting his dick in Bill. Now.

He can’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed when he whines out, trying to recapture Stan’s attention. Who doesn’t even look up when he responds, “I told you to prep yourself Billy.”

Oh yeah, Bill forgot about that. Him and Stan have done a lot, a lot of things, but something about tonight feels new. Almost hesitantly Bill removes his pants and underwear, toeing off his tennis shoes. Stan still doesn’t look at him. Huffing, Bill continues to remove his shirt, now standing completely naked as he squirts some lube onto his fingers, warming it up.

Once warmed up to his satisfaction, Bill reaches behind to circle his hole with his middle finger. Normally he would tease himself, make a show of it. He’s touched himself plenty of times in front of Stan before, but this time Stan isn’t even looking at him. Also he’s too fucking horny just tease himself so he has no complaints when he plunges the first finger in all the way to his knuckle, biting his other hand to muffle his moans.

Starting to slowly finger himself, not taking very long before his pointer finger is joining inside him, he starts to get annoyed. Annoyed because here he is trying to be sexy and moan as loud as he dares, and Stan still won’t fucking look at him. And annoyed because he knows how to finger himself, but Stan always does it way better. God, that man has ruined his sex life forever.

When he starts to scissor his fingers he gets lost in the feeling, closing his eyes, thinking about the fact he’s preparing for something much more enjoyable. The third finger goes with no resists and at that point Bill is fucking his fingers in and out of him.

“Such a slut aren’t you Billy?”

His eyes snap open to look at Stan, who’s staring at Bill like he’s the most delicious thing he’s ever seen. Bill can feel his body blushing when he notices Stan palming himself over his khakis.

“Come here.”

Bill doesn’t hesitate, eagerly rolling the condom on Stan’s cock once he frees it, Stan’s underwear and khakis being pushed down to his mid thigh. He’s reading to straddle him again like before, when Stan suddenly takes charge and turns Bill around, pulling him down on his cock, Bill’s back to his chest.

The stretch feels so painfully good and Bill’s in complete bliss, feeling so full . He’s waiting for Stan to start pounding into him like he usually does, he never leaves Bill waiting. But, then a few moments pass, and nothing, nothing happens. Bill’s just resting on Stan’s cock, which is nuzzled right up his prostate.

Frustrated, Bill starts trying to grind on him, each wiggle of his hips causing Stan’s dick to jab his prostate sending jolts of pleasure through his body. Stan is quick to stop him though, gripping his hips hard.

“I thought you said you were going to be a good boy Billy?” Stan runs a hand through Bill’s hair, which was starting to become damp with sweat.

“I-I-I-I-I am?” Bill thinks he is, but he doesn’t really know what Stan wants from him. This is new territory.

Stan smacks Bill’s thigh, causing him to yelp. “No you’re not. Good boys sit still and be a good cock warmer while their professor finishes his work.”

Oh , that’s what they’re doing.

“I’m sorry s-s-sir, I’ll be guh-guh-good.”

“I know you will Billy, or you won’t cum.” That’s exactly what Bill doesn’t want, and he whimpers at the idea of it. He can be good, he can stay speared open on Stan’s thick cock while he finishes his work.

The task proves to be more difficult when Stan starts back to grading, leaning over him to access the papers. Bill desperately wills himself to stay still, to be good for Stan. But his cock so achingly close to where Bill wants him, and everytime Stan minutely rolls his hips, which has to be on purpose mind you, and makes Bill want more than anything to grind back on him.

No, Bill can be a good boy. He will get to cum.

What feels like hours pass by, in reality it’s only ten minutes, but Bill is dying. His whole body is sweating, his cock is throbbing with the need to release, and at this point he’s nothing but an incoherent whimpering mess.

But he hasn’t moved, he’s still a good boy.

Stan must be getting fed up himself, as he’s angrily marking the papers now, seeming in a rush to finish. Finally the last paper is graded, Bill sees it’s a sixty nine hilariously enough, and Stan is finally fucking him.

He grabs Bill’s thighs and lifts just enough so he’s ramming into Bill’s prostate each time, and fuck, this is going to be over too quickly. Bill is letting out little “ Uh uh uh uh’s ” as Stan grunts in his ear. He can faintly make out utterances of “Such a good boy”.

Bill cums first of course, his body finally giving in to the pleasure, his orgasm cresting over him in pure bliss. His cum shoots onto his thighs and he feels utterly blissed and fucked out.

When he tightened around Stan, that seemed to make him cum as as well, because when Bill finally comes out his post orgasm bliss, Stan is leaning back in the chair, panting.

Neither of them make any move to move from their spot, Bill falling back against Stan with him still inside of him.

They sit there for a minute, regaining their composure. Stan kisses Bill’s forehead before he climbs off Stan, grimacing at the sudden loss of him.

Bill pulls his clothes on, thankful they used a condom tonight so he doesn’t have to walk back to his dorm with cum dripping out of him. Again.

Stan ties off the condom and picks up the wrapper, sticking them both in a styrofoam cup that must’ve contained his coffee earlier, before throwing away the incriminating evidence. It’s only then that Bill notices Stan was still wearing his wedding ring. Huh.

He’ll think about the significance of that some other time, right now he still feels great from his orgasm.

Stan is still standing as he walks over and wraps his arms around his neck. He smiles to himself when Stan is quick to reciprocate his hug, pulling Bill closer to him.

“You did so good Billy, you’re always so good for me.” Stan punctuates his praises with kisses to Bill’s face.

Bill laughs, “You muh-made me w-w-work for it enough.”

“Still so good for me.” With that Stan kisses Bill.

The kiss is simple and sweet and Bill sighs into it as he runs his hands through Stan’s hair.

Neither of them hear Stan’s office door open.

Stan hears the intruder first, jumping away from Bill like he’s suddenly hot to the touch. Bill looks at Stan confused, only to see his attention isn’t on Bill.

It’s on Professor Blum who’s standing by the door looking like she may pass out.

Bill feels like he’s going to be sick.

“Patty I didn’t kno-”

“Just be quite Stanley.” Professor Blum has regained some of her composure and is glaring daggers at Stan’s head. This can’t be happening, Bill can’t lose Stan.

What’s going to happen now? Does Bill get expelled? Does Stan lose his job? Does she think Stan forced Bill? All she saw was a kiss but they both still look kind of disheveled and a college professor won’t have any problems guessing what they were just doing. Fuck.

Bill opens his mouth, to say what he’s not sure, but Professor Blum cuts off him before he has a chance.

“You. You need to leave. Now.” She’s not glaring at Bill like she was Stan, but the look she’s giving him definitely tells him not to question her right now.

Hopelessly Bill chances a look at Stan, who looks like he can’t believe this is happening right now. Bill can’t believe it either. Stan isn’t looking at Bill still, he’s currently locked in a staring contest with Professor Blum and Bill can practically see the unspoken words bouncing between them.

Defeatedly Bill grabs his bag from the floor, shuffling out the room. He can feel tears welling up in his eyes, and can’t look back at Stan as he runs through the door, dry sobs escaping his throat.

#stenbrough #stanbrough #stan uris #stanley uris #bill denbrough #beverly marsh #it #it ch 2

7 notes · View notes

the-sarcastic-trashmouth · 5 years

Text

A dumb, stupid love letter

Summary: “Alright, which one of you assholes was it?” Stan’s sharp tone surprised the entire group. Each loser snapped their gaze up to Stanley in confusion as he thrusted the postcard onto the lunch table.

“What’s that?” Bev asked, leaning forward to inspect it before freezing at the declaration of love written in beautiful handwriting.

“A love letter. So who’s idea was it? Come on. I wanna know who to thank for the joke.” He snapped.

“Stan, we didn’t write that.” Eddie comments, looking up to him in worry. “Trust me.”

Stan’s calculating eyes locked onto Richie who froze when he realized that Stan thought it was him. His jaw dropped as he immediately shook his head in protest.

“Look dude, I may be an asshole a good majority of our lives, but even I would think that’s completely fucked.” He explains, holding his hands up in mocked surrender.

“So... So it wasn’t anyone here? There’s someone in this school that actually likes me?” He sounded doubtful of that fact.

“S-S-Sound like it.” Bill points out with a genuine grin of happiness.

Pairing: Stanley Uris x Patricia Blum

“Alright, which one of you assholes was it?” Stan’s sharp tone surprised the entire group. Each loser snapped their gaze up to Stanley in confusion as he thrusted the postcard onto the lunch table.

“What’s that?” Bev asked, leaning forward to inspect it before freezing at the declaration of love written in beautiful handwriting.

“A love letter. So who’s idea was it? Come on. I wanna know who to thank for the joke.” He snapped.

“Stan, we didn’t write that.” Eddie comments, looking up to him in worry. “Trust me.”

Stan’s calculating eyes locked onto Richie who froze when he realized that Stan thought it was him. His jaw dropped as he immediately shook his head in protest.

“Look dude, I may be an asshole a good majority of our lives, but even I would think that’s completely fucked.” He explains, holding his hands up in mocked surrender.

“So... So it wasn’t anyone here? There’s someone in this school that actually likes me?” He sounded doubtful of that fact.

“S-S-Sound like it.” Bill points out with a genuine grin of happiness.

Stan blinked in shock before suddenly his face heated up when he looked to the others. Their faces held matching grins of delight when Stan swallowed thickly. He looked to Ben who was looking over the writing with a gentle expression.

“Well, whoever it is... they are very literate. Which means they probably spend a lot of time at the library.” He points out as Stan finally sunk down into his seat between Bill and Mike.

“They must know what you’re into with the sentence about the birds,” Mike comments as Stan stared down at the table, still processing everything.

“Shit guys, I think he’s broken.” Richie snickers as he waved a hand too close to Stan’s face.

“Dude! That’s disgusting! Do you know how many germs are on your hand?” Eddie snapped, slapping Richie’s hand away from Stan.

“What... How do I figure it out? I—I need to know who it is.” He finally spoke after what felt like forever.

“Well, the handwriting is way too pretty to be a guy’s,” Mike comments with a shrug.

“It—It smells like gir—girly perfume,” Bill comments as the others nod.

“Ooh! I bet it’s Katy from Math class!” Eddie exclaims with a snap of his fingers.

“What?” Stan’s face twisted in worry. “But she... Oh, fuck... it can’t be her. She told me that birds are dumb.” He points out with a scowl on his face.

“Well, obviously they don’t want to be known.” Eddie offers. “Maybe they are too nervous and don’t want to be known.” He shrugs.

“You saying it was you, Eddie Spaghetti?” Richie grins deviously as Eddie choked on his water.

“What!! No! I’m not! That’s gross! Stan’s one of my best friends! Besides, it’s possible she just doesn’t want to be known! And don’t call me that you asshole.” He growled softly.

“Guys! Focus! This is about Stan! Flirt with each other later!” Bev huffs earning a glare from Eddie while Richie grins in delight.

“Maybe Eddie is right. What if this is still a joke? What if someone did this to get a rise out of me?” Stan asked worriedly.

“Hey, don’t think like that. You’re an amazing guy and anyone would be lucky to have you.” Mike assured quickly.

“Besides, she must be really shy if she can’t even talk to you.” Richie snorts earning a jab to the ribs by Eddie.

“Shut up Richie!” He huffs softly.

“This is dumb. I’m not going to keep this letter. It’ll give me more anxiety than I need.” Stan stood up, prepared to throw away the letter when Richie intercepted him.

“Okay! Jesus Christ dude, hold on! I mean this girl poured her heart out to you. If someone was making it a joke it wouldn’t be as detailed. Look, I know you are worried and you fucking twist things because you are you! However, even if you don’t want to know who it is... don’t throw that away. Because sometimes people don’t have the courage to write what they can’t say.” He sighed as they all watched him in silence.

“Why do you care so much?” Stan’s eyes narrowed as Richie groaned loudly.

“Because I fucking know who put it in your locker, but I’m not telling you because she begged me to put it in your locker. So fucking sit the hell back down and smile because someone finds your bird watching adorable!” He snapped as Stan swallows before glancing down to the letter.

“You’re gonna tell me right?” Bev broke the silence as Stan glared at her.

“For once, Bevvie... That’s between me and her. I promised her I wouldn’t, but trust me Stan the man... She’s a cutie and you two are weirdly perfect for each other.” He snorts softly.

“Thanks... I guess.” Stan frowns softly before rubbing at his neck as he pulled out his lunch to eat.

The rest of lunch was rather quiet, Stan glanced every so often at Richie who refused to meet his gaze. He was physically trying to force himself not to speak because he promised her he wouldn’t say anything. He cringed at the feeling of all their eyes watching him, waiting for him to spill out and finally admit defeat.

Richie was the first one out of the lunchroom the moment the bell rang to head to their next class. It made the young Jewish boy sigh in slight annoyance that Richie was actually keeping his mouth shut. Of course, he would, right?

Rolling his eyes, Stan got up and went to his next class with his mind racing on who could possibly want to be with him. It seemed almost odd to him that there was someone in the school that actually thought he was worthy enough to be liked. That being said, Stan didn’t want this stupid love letter to consume his life, because there were far too many girls in the school to find out who it is.

The rest of the day seemed to drag on, making Stanley want nothing more than to slam his head against the desk. Normally, he loved to listen to the teacher, but today his mind just wasn’t with it. He glanced around the room before his eyes stopped on one person in particular.

Patricia Blum.

She was a beautiful girl, to say the least. Her light green eyes glittered behind the round glasses that took up over half her features, but her tiny nose held the frames strong. Her long jet black hair was tied back, complimenting her freckled face oh-so beautifully. She always wore sweaters with a long shirt that somehow wouldn’t work for anyone but her.

What if it’s her? No way! She’s too perfect to look at you that way!

Patty moved into Derry over a year ago and she’s been hanging with other people and sometimes the losers. They’ve been paired up for projects multiple times so he knows that she’s really sweet to everyone. He just finds her presence to be calming in ways that only the Losers can bring out of him sometimes.

I mean she had other friends so she wasn’t always with the losers, but a lot of the times that she did come around… Stan found himself feeling happier. He loved talking with her because she always had something interesting to say, or just loved to listen to him ramble on about whatever was on his mind.

Patty glanced over to him before offering him a warm smile, causing Stan’s face to heat up when he realized she caught him staring. He swallowed before offering a tight-lipped smile back as he turned to the book their English teacher was explaining. His heart fluttered gently as his eyes cast down to his bag where the letter remained wedged between his social studies and math books.

“You okay?” A soft voice asked as Stan jerked before looking up to see Patty standing over him with her books in her arms. “The bell rang and you didn’t move. You look really lost in thought.” She was smiling at him.

“Uh… Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry. Thank you.” He murmurs, struggling to get his stuff together as he mentally cursed himself for daydreaming for so long.

“Stanley, um… I--” Her mouth shut with an audible click as she looked concerned. “I’m sorry… This… If it makes you uncomfortable… I’ll just…” She pointed towards the door before immediately exiting as Stan watched her go.

“Fuck…” He cursed softly before going out of the room and towards the exit of the school.

“Stanny! Wait up!” Richie called with Eddie and Bill trailing behind him. “You are speed walking, dude.” He huffs as he finally caught up to Stan as the four boys walked out of the school.

“This stupid letter has been a pain in my ass. I can’t stop thinking about it. I just…” He gritted his teeth when Eddie offers a sad smile.

“Can’t believe anyone would love you?” He finished as Stan’s shoulders slumped slowly.

“Yeah, sadly.” He scrubbed at his temples when Richie threw an arm around him.

“Well someone does! They see you and think you are something special! Don’t know why, but hey you’re not my type.” He laughs as Stanley rolled his eyes and pushed away from Richie, walking ahead of them.

“St-St-Stan… If you are rea--rea--really that bothered by the le-le-letter… Just get rid of it.” Bill offers when Stan looked at him, holding his books tightly to his chest.

“That’s the problem… I don’t want to. I… I want someone to like me. I’m fucking sixteen years old and I’ve never dated before. Like… I want someone to want me. I want to have someone to love me. I just… I didn’t think it was possible.” He comments before groaning. “This is seriously dumb! Why am I acting like some love-sick loon!” He demanded.

“Because Stan the man… Everyone wants that. They want that feeling that love gives them. I mean shit… Look at Ben and Bev? Bill and Mike?” He waggles his eyebrows at Bill who sputtered at him in shock.

“I guess you’re right… What about you? What about Eddie?” He asked, glancing back to the hypochondriac who offers a flushed face.

“Uh… Richie and I have been dating on the down-low for about a year now.” Eddie comments as Bill and Stanley blinked in shock.

“What the fuck! Why didn’t you tell me you asshole?” Stan demanded, looking from Eddie to Richie who held matching expressions of worry.

“Because… Well, we liked keeping it a secret? I don’t know. We just never really thought about it. I guess it never mattered if anyone was okay with us or not. Just as long as Eddie and I loved each other.” Richie nods before glancing at Eddie who shyly looks to the ground.

“You two are already disgustingly cute! Stop it!” Stan huffs, sounding more on the tones of a whine. “Oh… Oh, that makes sense now! Everyone in the Losers club had someone… I always felt left out when everyone paired up… I was the outcast in our own little band of outcasts… I guess that’s why I wanted someone to love the most.” Stan murmured.

“Whoa! We aren’t abandoning you, Stan!” Eddie assured quickly when Stan looked up with a hurt expression.

“How you all went to the movies together the other week, probably as a date for everyone and just forgot to tell me?” He asked as Eddie opened his mouth before shutting it. “Exactly. Look, let’s just drop it. I don’t think I’m gonna go to the clubhouse today. I’ll see you guys later.” He comments, walking off before anyone could follow after him.

Stan was walking when he heard the sounds of shoes tapping against cement, loudly. He jerked back expecting to see Henry and his goons, but instead, there was a flustered Patty who was panting loudly. She held up a hand as if telling him to stop, causing him to awkwardly stand there until she finally made it up to him.

“Richie--Richie told me you weren’t okay. I thought I’d come to check on you.” She said between bouts of heavy pants. “What happened?” She asked worriedly.

“Um… Nothing, nothing that you need to worry about.” He assured as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“I don’t believe that bullshit for even a moment.” She resorts with a slightly sharp tone. “Shit, I’m sorry. If you don’t feel comfortable telling me then you don’t have to.” She waves her hands around.

“It’s not… It’s not that. I… Actually, this is going to sound really dumb, but I got a love letter today. I’ve never gotten one before. It’s made me all weird. I just… I guess I never expected someone to want me as a partner. I just thought I’d adopt a bunch of birds and live my life like that.” He shrugs.

“Oh Stanley, anyone would be lucky to have you. I’m sure everyone is just intimidated by how smart you are. It’s not that you’re cold… It’s just you radiate that sort of energy?” She questioned.

“That might explain why she wasn’t brave enough to actually hand me the letter… Or even talk to me in the first place.” He sighed when Patty moved a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

“Maybe she’s just really awkward and didn’t want to be a complete idiot in front of you.” Patty murmurs softly as Stanley frowns.

“Well, she couldn’t be any more of an idiot than I would be if she actually confessed to me.” He laughs, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Who do you want the letter to be from?” She asked quietly when he froze at her words.

“I… I don’t know. I never actually thought about that.” He swallowed thickly.

“Um… Stan, I… I have to tell you something.” Patty mumbles, looking down at her beat-up sneakers.

“What’s that?” He asked, unsure as to why his heart thundered so loudly in his chest.

“I… I was the one who told Richie to put the letter into your locker… I’m the one who wrote the letter and I’m the one who was too scared to say. If I had known it would have affected you this much I would have never tried. I’m so sorry, Stan. I promise I’ll leave you alone from now on.” She rambled quickly as Stan looked up to her in shock.

“Wait… What? You? The… The letter was from you?” He asked dumbly.

“Yeah, I… I’m sure you probably wanted someone else.” She comments softly when Stan’s jaw dropped open.

“Holy shit… I’m dreaming. I have to be dreaming. This can’t be real.” He whispered as her features twisted in confusion.

“What--I’m… Stan, this is real. I mean… If you don’t feel the same way just say that… Don’t make fun of me.” She looked hurt when Stan dropped his books without a second thought. He surged forward and cupped her face as her eyes widened before she looked at him in disbelief.

“No! No, I swear I’m not making fun of you! I just… I can’t believe it! Because I wanted the letter to be from you! It just doesn’t seem real. Like this shit doesn’t happen to someone like me. Maybe Bill or Ben… Or hell even Richie…” He explains when she watched him.

“You… So you like me too?” She asked quietly as he nods immediately.

“More than I ever thought I could like someone. You make me feel ways I’ve never felt before. It scares me, but… but you’re someone who always listens to me. You like to bird-watch with me when none of the others did. You are so amazing… and I can’t believe this is actually happening. I’d ask you to pinch me, but I really don’t want that.” He laughs breathlessly.

“Then maybe you should kiss me. Maybe that will make it real?” She offers as his face flushes before his eyes snapped down to her lips. “You don’t have to. That was really forward and--” She’s cut off when Stan smashed their lips together.

Patty moaned in surprise when she slowly kissed back as her hands grabbed at his forearms. She tilted her head gently and deepened the kiss, feeling like the entire world melted away except for them. She smiles as Stan gently pulls away before their eyes locked.

“Uh… How… How was that?” He asked when she giggles softly.

“Well… I don’t really have anything to base it off of considering that was my first kiss.” She whispered, causing him to freeze.

“You… Really?” He swallowed thickly before he started to laugh.

“Yeah, strict parents, but they like you a lot so Mom told me to go for it. She even helped me write the letter… Oh my god… That’s so lame to say! You didn’t hear that!” She whines, burying her face into his neck as Stan laughed harder.

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” He grins which made her giggle. It sounded like music to his ears.

“So… If I were to ask you to maybe be my boyfriend…?” She trailed off when Stan rests their foreheads together.

“I would say yes.” He comments as her eyes glittered with happiness.

“Um… Do you wanna maybe bird-watch on Friday? Because I’m free Friday after school?” She offers.

“We can do something else.” He assures immediately. “You don’t have to bird-watch if you’d rather do anything else.” He explains.

“Stan, I don’t care if we just walked around this stupid town for five hours. As long as I’m with you… I don’t care what we do.” She smiles before pulling him back into a kiss.

“Get it Stan the Man!” Richie’s voice broke the bubble that had enveloped them as Stan snapped his gaze to the other losers.

“Dammit, Richie!” Bev snapped, jabbing him in the side while Richie outright cackled.

“Happy for you guys!” Eddie laughs before looking at Richie who crossed his arms.

“About fucking time is more like the phrasing I would use.” He shrugs.

“Shove it, Tozier!” Patty laughs.

“Blow me, Blum!” Richie smirks before looking to Stan. “At least now you know! And look, I didn’t say anything! That’s one for the books ladies and gentlemen!” He laughs when Eddie rolled his arms.

“If that isn’t true.” Eddie snorts softly. “We were gonna head to the Quarry. You guys coming?” He asked.

Stan looked to Patty who looked more than excited.

“Hell yeah! Let’s go!” She bent down and retrieved Stan’s books. “You think you can handle me in only my bra and underwear?” She asked as his face flushes before she rushed over and took Bev’s hand.

“Pat--Patty!” Stan exclaims, causing her to laugh as she and Bev rushed off towards the Quarry with Stan and the others hot on their tail.

Yeah, he was more than glad for that stupid, dumb love letter. So glad.

#Stanley Uris x Patricia Blum #StanPat #Richie Tozier & Stanley are best friends #Richie is a little shit #Sassy Stanley #Stanley loves Patty #Patty loves Stan #Dorks in love #Mutual pining #love letters #Dumb highschool students #Angst??#Happy ending #I love them #Stanley and Patty are an OTP #They both so cute #Love confession

7 notes · View notes

katecarteir · 6 years

Text

L.A Devotee | chapter one

“I don’t date musicians,” Richie interrupted her, speaking loudly over what other praises Kay was about to give this Edward person that Richie never wanted to meet.

‘You don’t date anybody, Richie.” Kay pointed out simply, leaning forward towards him. “That’s part of the problem. You have to know by now that your public image is just as important as whatever you’re putting onto that screen.”

[or: child actor Richie Tozier was raised in The Industry, he knows how to play the game. He knows exactly how to keep his head down, and make his way through the famous life without attracting any extra drama. Until his management branch takes an up incoming band under their wing, and enlist Richie to publicly date the lead singer, and that all falls to shit.]

Richie Tozier grabbed a blueberry muffin from Audra Philips awaiting hand and swept to press a kiss to her cheek. He hummed, smiling down at his best friend. “What would I do without you?”

“Crash and burn.” Audra replied promptly with a sly grin. Richie and Audra had grown up together since they were only seven years old, co-stars on some Disney Channel show that Richie sort of wished that he could erase from his filmography completely, and they’d been inseparable ever since. Audra had been cast a few years earlier on some big list CW television show that Richie had openly never seen an episode of- but had guest starred in two or three just because Audra was always his biggest fan. Richie himself leaned more towards movies, and had gotten into a few big roles in just last year or so. He connected well with a big time, multi-award wining writer director Bill Denbrough- one of the youngest Oscar Award Winning directors in history- and Richie had large roles in his movies more often than not since. Richie liked to believe that were the perfect level of famous, the two of them, that they had names and the money and little enough of the corrupted bullshit.

“Kay called this morning,” Audra said, padding back towards their large marble-styled kitchen in her woolly socked feet. “So I don’t think you’ll be having much time for an actual breakfast this morning. I know how important healthy, balanced meals are to you.”

Richie let out a disbelieving laugh, they most knowing full well that Richie ran on black coffee and sour candies on a good day. “Oh yeah? And which tabloid printed that shit?”

“J14 did a whole thing on How Richie Tozier gets keeps himself healthy during filming,” Audra said, removing the Starbucks cup from it’s cardboard tray and slid it across the kitchen island towards them. Every morning, Richie and Audra would sit around the kitchen and eat their store-bought breakfast and Richie would think about how nice their kitchen was despite the intense lack of cooking that went on within it. Richie, truthfully, would have been perfectly happy with a well-windowed apartment, but he’d never had a small house. His parents had been in The Industry- behind the scenes- and Richie had been on a stage or in front of a camera since he could talk. Too large houses that were mere full of stuff and hardly any people were all Richie Tozier had ever known. Likely all he ever would, and he’d accepted it by now.

“J14 always has the worst bullshit,” Richie laughed, tossing his head back and choosing not to make fun of the light cream colour of Audra’s drink. He liked to believed that those sort of soft arguments between them had gotten old, but Richie kind of hoped that they never would. “I sometimes think they don’t ever actually interview anything, they just make up information that’s vague and non-offensive enough that nobody calls them out on it all being crap.”

“And why are they still plastering us on their magazines?” Audra said back, shaking her head and ripping off a piece of her butter croissant. “We haven’t been staring on Disney Channel in years. Don’t they have any new Mouse Housers to pay attention to?”

“No,” Richie chuckled, swishing the liquid around in his cup. “Have you seen some of those new Disney Channel shows?”

Audra raised her eyebrows. “No? Do you still watch the Disney Channel?” Richie ripped the top of his muffin off and stuffed it into his mouth. Audra laughed lightly, shaking her hand, and walked over to the counter top where Richie always left his phone plugged in over night to charge. “You have six missed calls from Kay, and she called me this morning to get your lazy ass up. You need to start bringing your phone into your room at time to avoid this shit.”

“This is exactly why I don’t bring my phone into my room,” Richie pointed out, accepting the phone as Audra passed it to him. He did have several missed calls from Kay McCall, his childhood co-star turned manager post-Disney, and a few texts from Beverly Marsh as well. Beverly and Kay had both been big parts of Richie’s Disney day growing up, but had chosen to go different routes after they became too old but not old enough for Disney Channel to mark good profit off of. Kay had gone in with Richie’s own parents, and was trained to loose her soul and suck the souls out of others, Beverly chose to stay close to the production and work at making people look fashionable and beautiful at any point in time. Without Beverly, Richie supposed he would never look good enough to even leave his house.

“What does she want?” Richie said, scrolling through the alerts on his lock screen, praying that Audra would somehow know what Kay was looking for from him and he wouldn’t have to call Kay himself. He enjoyed Kay as a person, he’d more than gladly invite her over for drinks any weekend, the woman was one of his oldest friends in the world but he very much disliked when Kay outreached to him through his work line. It always meant that he was about to be forced to do something he wasn’t going to like.

Audra gave him an unimpressed look. “You think Kay would tell me your personal information? Not until she’s four cocktails in, Dickard. Just that you need to get down to the center as soon as your scrawny, greasy ass is out of bed- and yes, those were her exact words.” Audra grabbed the newspaper from Richie’s hands as he tried to open it for reading, and brought it down on his head. “And she said to dress nice! Which means you’re probably meeting some important people today!”

Richie crinkled his nose. “Why? I’m already lined up to start Denbrough’s film next month. I don’t usually do more than one big project at a time, because I’m a mental health flight risk.” Richie tossed his arms out and twirled his hands out in the jazz hands style. “I shouldn’t be meeting any new people. I hate meeting new people.” Audra stared Richie down until Richie groaned loudly and pushed himself away from the kitchen island, and stomped to his bedroom.

Barely bothering to change, Richie came out and made an overly dramatic farewell to Audra- complete with if you don’t hear from me in an hour, assume that Kay has killed me- which was so regular between them that Audra didn’t so much as blink.

Richie walked directly into the front door of the PenWise Management, trying to keep his head down enough that nobody would stop and talk to him, but not so much that somebody would stop and demand to know who he was. He was unimpressed to find that Kay was standing in the front foyer, dressed up completely with her fanciest pant suit, and arms crossed angrily. Richie hunched his shoulders up higher and stepped towards. Kay McCall was wearing her ass whopping face.

“I thought you were told to dress up.” Kay said sharply to him as soon as he approached. Richie looked down at his checkered black vans, black ripped jeans and white-and-black striped shirt.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Richie asked, knowing pretty damn well exactly what was wrong what he was wearing. Kay gave a scoff of disgust that was much more friend-like than manager-like and waved him over her shoulder, as she began to walk down the hall towards her office. Richie sighed, rolling in his eyes slightly, and following her down. Kay quickly closed the office door behind them and gestured for Richie to sit down.

“Am I like, in trouble here?” Richie asked, crinkling his brow. Kay sighed and leaned up against the desk and looked at Richie slowly.

“You’re not going to like this,” Kay said, voice firm and detached.

Richie raised his eyebrows, heart rate starting to pick up. “Are you guys dropping me? Did Bill’s movie fall through? What? You’re killing me!”

“Calm down, Rich,” Kay said, voice almost carrying laughter. She sounded so much like Richie’s friend just then that he let his guard down, always a fatal mistake in this industry. Richie learned more than a long time- maybe he’d never learned it at all, maybe it had always been something that he knew in his soul- that there was nobody in his life he could trust except Audra Phillips.

“There’s this alternative band, up in coming. Our branch has been listed to represent them through everything,” Kay said, taking a pen from her pen holder and clicking it a few times. “They’re pretty good, too. Really matching well with the new sound that the Top 40s are looking for. We think they’re going to be a great hit, we just need to find a way to draw attention to them.”

“And shouldn’t their talent do that for them?” Richie asked haughtily with a roll of his eyes. Kay met his gaze for a moment and didn’t say a word, and Richie exhaled hard. “Okay, yeah, I know. Talent has little to do with success, blah blah. Whatever. Can you get to the point where this has something to do with me?”

“Well…” Kay looked momentarily uncomfortable before donning back on her usual business like expression that always held itself within the walls of his building. “We were all talking and we all know what’s the best way to get somebody’s name into the media. By putting them into a relationship with somebody who’s already a big name.” Richie’s mouth dropped open but Kay rushed right over him, not giving him that chance to argue. “The lead singers’ name is Edward or… something like that. Sweet kid, doesn’t really have the look of some alternative punk kid, but I think you’ll really-“

“I don’t date musicians,” Richie interrupted her, speaking loudly over what other praises Kay was about to give this Edward person that Richie never wanted to meet.

‘You don’t date anybody, Richie.” Kay pointed out simply, leaning forward towards him. “That’s part of the problem. You’re unattainable, you haven’t dated anybody since your Disney days and while I’m sure you diehard fans are still shipping you with that one girlfriend you had when you were fourteen, but you have to know by now that your public image is just as important as whatever you’re putting onto that screen.”

Richie just simply crossed his arms and glared at Kay, knowing that he wasn’t going to be winning this argument. “Did it have to be a musician? All musicians are total pompous assholes. I would never date a musicians, Kay, you have to know that!”

“Well,” Kay smiled blandly at him. “It’s a good thing you won’t actually be dating this guy. You’ll have to go out in public with him a bit, get pap’d, show up in a couple of clubs together and go to some events with the guy on your arm. A couple of months from now, they’ll have a successful album drop and then you’ll have a simple break up. Snip snip, no harm and fowl. You never have to see him again if you don’t want to.”

Richie narrowed his eyes at a simple insinuation that Richie ever would be interested in seeing some pumped up musician outside of forced interactions. Kay clapped her hands once and stood up. “Okay, well, I’m glad you agreed-“

“I didn’t agree-“ Richie tried to point out but Kay did what she did best- refused to give him the chance.

“Because their band is finishing up signing some contracts with a bunch of our underlings,” Kay said, moving towards the door once more. “And I told Edward to stick around. I want you guys to meet, before we start doing any of these dumb publicity things. Which I why I told you to dress nicely- but you seem determined to not look nice for anything that I ask of you unless I forcibly get Beverly to dress you herself- but so be it.”

Kay opened the door and another boy came walking in. She’d been right in assuming that Edward here didn’t have the exact look of somebody going into this whole alternative scene, with wide trusting Bambi eyes and argyle style clothes. Damn, Richie thought to himself. Hollywood is going to eat this kid alive and spit him right back out.

“Edward, this is-“ Kay began but Edward cut across him in such a tactless fashion that Richie hadn’t mastered himself just yet.

“It’s just Eddie,” he said, voice high and lovely just like Richie knew that most musicians who weren’t into hard drugs were like. Charming[Ay1] and star seeking, the kind of voice that made girls swooned and Richie scowl. “Only my mother calls me Edward, and fuck her, so.”

Richie blinked and gaped at the foul-mouthed boy. Sure, Richie Tozier had possibly the most ridiculously foul mouths he’d ever known, and people were constantly telling him it. He’d never denied it, but even he could recognize a personal environment when it came to him. His managers office, with a some random person he’d never met before and was going to be in a large scale fake relationship in order to kick start his career- that was the kind of environment he’d find a way to watch his mouth.

Even Kay looked caught off guard by Eddie’s slander on his own mother, if only from the look in her eyes. “This is Richie Tozier, he’s-“

“Yeah, man, you’re cool!” Eddie brushed right past Kay’s formal introduction and Richie openly winced. “I’ve seen a bunch of you stuff! Some of it is actually pretty good!”

Richie’s raised his eyebrows. “Some of it? Which isn’t your taste, Eddie Spaghetti? The one with the stalker fan played by Kathy Bates who was a little too old to be so obsessed with my twenty-one year old self or the plane one going through the time loop?”

“The plane one was my favourite,” Eddie said simply, reaching to take some of the candies from Kay’s desk. Richie bit down on the tip of his knuckle and glanced over his shoulder at Kay. Her lips were pursed together in obvious distaste, and he thought that maybe she was going to let him off the hook here. Even as he wished it, he knew it was a long shot.

“So, we’re gonna be fake boyfriends…” Eddie said, glancing at Richie and smirked. “You’ll be better dressed when you’re holding my hands in public, right?”

Richie was pretty sure that keeping his calm in that office was the first Academy Award winning performance he’d ever given.

#reddie #reddie fic #my writing #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #... posting a fic at 2am #lmao im a joke and life is bullshit #lad

118 notes · View notes

thepinkwriterr · 6 years

Text

Loner // IT 2017 Chapter Fourteen

Mazzy Star - Fade Into You

Fade into you Strange you never knew Fade into you I think it's strange you never knew

Tuesday

April Fifth, 1993

I got up that morning, throwing on one of Bill’s sweaters and some shorts. The weekend was so hectic, I was actually looking forward to school. At this point, school would be more tame than home.

Kali and James were still fucking. I heard them downstairs on Monday night, watching a movie. I ignored them as I went about my morning routine. I still hadn’t talked to either of them.

The three day weekend lasted too long. I couldn’t wait to get back to school and passive-aggressively rub it in Casey’s face that I had Bill.

There was a beep from outside and I ran out the door, and into Bill’s car. “Morning babe.” I smiled, leaning over to kiss him.

“Morning.” He kissed back. As he drove down my street, I turned on the radio. I gave him one of my favorite cassette tapes. It was the mix tape Kali had borrowed that James had made. Neither of us could make mix tapes.

“I’m half the man I used to be…” I sang along to the music. “Half the man…” Bill hummed. “Feelin’ uninspired, think I’ll start a fire. Everybody run, Bobby’s got a gun.” I sang again.

“Think you’re company, than she tells me I’m a creep.” Bill chimed. “Friends don’t mean a thing, guess I’ll leave it up to me.” That was me.

He pulled into a parking space, turning the car off. We walked in, hand in hand. It was second nature to us now, we had no second thoughts on the PDA.

“Oooooo, look at the newly weds!” Ben laughed as we walked over. “Duh dum dum dum duh dum duh dum!” Bev sang.

I laughed, rolling my eyes. “Where’s everyone else?” I asked. “Richie drives Eddie and Stan to school. The ole blue baby is a taxi.” Beverly patted her hand against Ben’s shoulder.

I laughed again. “Why are you so smiley?” Beverly poked at my ribs. I giggled,”I’m just so happy!” I grabbed Bill’s hand.

“Uck! Get a room.” I heard a familiar voice grumble behind me. “Don’t be so rude, Richie!” Eddie whisper shouted. “Richie Tozier, always a pleasure.” I smiled at him. He rolled his eyes.

“Hey, uh, thanks for…what you did Friday.” Eddie leaned over, whispering to me. “No problem.” I whispered back.

“Why so secretive Danielle?” Richie asked wryly,”Does someone have a wittle cwush on Eddie bear?” He asked in a baby voice, his bottom lip protruding his top. I felt Bill’s grip on my hand tighten at Richie’s joke.

I rolled my eyes,”You’re such an ass.” Richie opened his mouth to rebuttal, but the school bell rang, interrupting him. “Saved by the bell…” I heard Eddie mumble under his breath. I laughed, whatta dork.

I went through the day, smiling. And at lunch time, I actually had people to sit with! That’s right, not just Kali, put a whole bunch of people!

Richie sat across from me, on the middle. Eddie sat next to him on the end, Stan seated next to Richie. I was in the middle, Bill to my left, Bev to my right. Ben ate with his popular friends.

Apparently, they didn’t mind this. Beverly was pretty popular, and so were Bill and I. Eddie, Stan, and Richie were all the “losers” of the group. But, how I looked at is, we were all losers.

Eddie’s mother was overbearing, so he never went out. And when he did, it was only with us. Stan is a Jew, who is very nervous and shy.

Richie is a grungy stoner who’s parents don’t care about him. Bill writes the school paper and wear sweaters. Of course people think they’re losers. I don’t think they’re uncool. They’re pretty fun.

When lunch was over I went to the library for study hall. I sat at my usual seat, pulling out Lolita. I looked over the cover, the memory of Kali and I rushing my mind.

“Uck, that is just disgusting! How could you write this filth?” Kali scowled, leaning back on the sofa. I shrugged,”I can see the beauty in it. At least he loved her.” She scowled animatedly at me. We both laughed, turning back to the movie.

“Y’know who I would love to be Lolita to?” Kali asked, turning toward me,”My brother?” She scoffed,”No, listen! I would love to fall in love with Brad Pitt! He is so dreamy!” Kali smiled, clasping her hands over her heart. I rolled my eyes,”You’re such a superficial bitch.” “You know it.” She smirked. “If I were to fall in love with a man…it would have to be for his heart and nothing else.”

God, I missed our movie nights. I missed laughing for hours over stupid things we said while talking. I miss our serious talks. I even miss that one time we got caught smoking pot and cried while talking to our parents.

But this is her fault. She’s the one who started it. But, maybe- “Hey girlie.” Beverly interrupted my thoughts. I realized I had been staring at the front cover of my book for about five minutes.

“Why ya staring at your book?” Bev asked, brows furrowed.

Kali’s POV

I sat up in James’s bed, dread consuming me. I miss Danielle so much. When Friday night rolled around and I didn’t get to watch movies with her in our pj’s, I felt like a piece of me was missing.

And she was. She was a huge piece of me. Without Danielle, there would be no Kali. And I know without Kali there would be no Danielle.

But when I see her, she looks like she’s thriving without me. She’s so happy. Meanwhile, I’m falling apart. I just can’t seem to be happy.

I looked down at Jame’s sleeping, peaceful face. I wonder if he knows how I feel. I doubt it.

When I woke up in the morning James was making breakfast. As I stood up I realized the only clean clothes I had here were some shorts. I felt panic rush my veins. What was I going to wear?

I scurried into the kitchen in just a sheet,”Can I borrow some of your clothes?” “Of course.” He chuckled. “Thanks.” I quickly stepped back to his room.

I pulled a white t-shirt out of the back of his closet and his flannel from the floor. This’ll have to do for now. God, I look like a dirt ball.

Sat at the kitchen table, eating my pancakes slowly. “Y’know,” I spoke through my mouth-full of pancake,”I can breakfast one of these days.”

James chuckled as he sat across from me,”Alright. Tomorrow you can make breakfast. A special treat for my last day here.”

I choked on my pancake, throwing a coughing fit. “You’re leaving tomorrow?” I exclaimed after I controlled myself.

He nodded. “I would’ve told you sooner, but I didn’t want you to be upset.” “Well, we’ve gotta go for a date tonight!” “I was planning it, Doll face.” He smirked.

Parking in my usual in my usual space, I turned the car off. I covered my eyes with my hands, taking a deep breath in. I exhaled slowly, trying to prepare myself for the day.

I grabbed my bag, then exited the car. I heard my ankle boots click against the road, producing a sound I normally loved. But the enjoyment of the sound was cut short.

Danielle and Bill walked ahead of me, hands clasped. I sighed, pulling my walkman and headphones from my bag. I popped in the mixtape James made me. Yellow Ledbetterchimed through the headphones, filling my head with bliss.

“On a weekend I wanna wish it all away, yeah. And they called and I said that I'll go. And I said that I'll call out again. And the reason I ought ta leave her calm, I know. I said, "I don't know whether I'm the boxer or the bag”.” Eddie Vedder crooned as I walked past Danielle and her friends.

She looked truly happy. Far Behind started as I walked into the bathroom. I sat down against the wall. I stayed there until the bell rang.

Most would say eating with you teacher is lame, but eating with my English teacher, Mr. Helms, was quite enjoyable.

It was quiet in there, and I got to read a book I always wanted to. After lunch was Math.

After Math class was history. The teacher, Mr. Zigler, was explaining our projects toward the end of class. One of the students raised their hands. Well, that’s new.

“Yes?” He asked, pointing to her. “Will we be able to work in groups?” He smiled,”I just about to say that. Uh, yes, partners, actually.” Everyone cheered, turning toward their designated ‘best friend’.

“But, I get to choose who you work with.” He smiled. Everyone stopped, then groaned. “Oh stop! It is not that bad.” He joked. He grabbed his roster, reading off each persons fait.

“-Stan Uris and Casey-“ Well, that sucks. “-Kali Tozier and Beverly-“ You’ve gotta be fucking with me. First this Danielle thing, now this? What’s gonna happen next? Is James actually gay? Am I gonna catch him fucking Eddie Kaspbrak in his living room? Is my mom gonna tell me she’s been cheating on dad? Am I gonna shut my hair in my car door?

I looked over at Beverly, who had a sour look on her face. I’m not so happy about it either, Buttercup… The bell then rang, interrupting my pouting.

My last period of the day was study hall. Where I was headed to now, coincidencedently.

The metallic cover of the Walkman shone against the overhead lights as I pulled it from my bag. I secured the headphones over my ears, hitting play on the walkman.

Fade Into You floated from tape to the machine, through the headphone wires, into the speakers, through my ears and into my brain. As I made my way down the laminated hallway, I really payed attention to the lyrics of Mazzy Star.

I want to hold the hand inside you

I want to take a breath that's true

I look to you and I see nothing

I look to you to see the truth

You live your life

You go in shadows

You'll come apart and you'll go blind

Some kind of light into your darkness

Colors your eyes with what's not there.

Fade into you

Strange you never knew

Fade into you

I think it's strange you never knew

As I sat in the back of the library, I felt tears brim in my eyes. Danielle’s absence mixed with the beautiful lyrics were enough to cause the tears. I felt a hot drop on my cheek, gliding down my warm skin.

I stood, gathering my things into my bag. Even the headphones and the walkman. I waited until the bell rang a few minutes later, then left the building. I drove to the nearest record store. I pulled into a space, ripping the key from the ignition.

I got out, storming up to the door of the store. I opened the door, hearing a bell ring upon the door opening. I beelined for the cashier, prepared to ask about where to find Fade Into You.

As I reached the counter, I was faced with Beverly Marsh. The words of my History teacher rang though my mind as I stood at the counter.

She smirked,”What can I help you with?” I sighed shortly,”Do you have any Mazzy Star tapes?” She nodded, lifting up a piece of the counter to walk through the store.

“So, tapes, huh?” “Yup.” “I never liked CD’s much either. Tapes look cooler.” I laughed,”I know right.” Wait! Did I…just agree and laughwith Beverly Marsh? I baffle myself each and everyday.

“I-uh-I guess we gotta work together in history, huh?” “Yeah,” I sighed again,”That’sgonna suck.” I shrugged. “Maybe not.” She turned and walked back to the counter.

I furrowed my brows at her statement, but brushed it off. God, I can’t stand her. I plucked the tape from the rack, then went to the counter.

“Have a nice night.” Beverly waved. “Mhm.” I hummed as I walked out the door.

#it #it movie #it 2017 #it movie 2017 #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #ben hanscom #bill denbrough #bev marsh #beverly marsh #finn wolfhard #richie tozier x reader #bill denbrough x reader #beverly marsh x reader #bev marsh x reader #finn wolfhard x reader #stan uris #fanfic #lgbt

17 notes · View notes

charlesxavirs · 6 years

Note

Ohohohoh! Please, if you want to I won't make you I'm sorry- Stenbrough? That's my actual shit and I love it but if you for any reason I will be okay I'm so sorry I'm a literal mess.

okay so i’ve had this written for ages and i’ve tried to expand on it and write more but it’s just never really happened so i might as well just post it. hope you enjoy! read on ao3 )

Stanley Uris considered himself a man of many talents. He could recite well detailed spiel about any bird at the drop of a hat, he had got washing his clothes down to a precise science so none of the colours would even dare to run, and he had to admit that he was quite flexible, although he wouldn’t ever admit that on a first date. Yet, despite his vehement efforts, despite his dedication and despite his might, he cannot get fucking glitter out of his hair. He’s tried washing it, brushing it, even vacuuming it once with Eddie’s careful guidance. He dreads the days when it is inexplicably part of his routine, and he prays and prays and prays that he’ll be able to get it out of his curly locks come bedtime.

He never fucking does, though.

And so, Stan was in a foul mood as he pulled up in the parking lot this morning at precisely five minutes to seven. As usual, he was the second car in the lot and he took the time to count the binders on his passenger seat again before he gathered them in his arms, to make sure he had replied to any emails he had to and ran over his lesson plans in his head before stepping out of the car and making his way towards the staff entrance of the small elementary school.

Just as he had expected, Ben was sat behind his desk at the main office, looking bleary eyed as he sipped at his coffee and flipped through papers that Stan would ask about if it wasn’t so early in the morning and if Ben didn’t look so tired. Stan threw him a smile and waved at him the best he could with his arms full, a wave of fondness washing over him as Ben offered him a bright smile in spite of his fatigue, and he started his trek along the red bricked corridor to his classroom.

Stan had started teaching just four years ago, starting off with Kindergarten kids at Derry Elementary before moving to the fifth grade the year after, and he’s stayed there ever since. His psychology degree was supposed to lead Stan into the world of therapy, yet instead, he got pulled into early years development, which ultimately led to him training to be a teacher. His father was more than displeased at sudden change in career choice, hoping his son would be a hotshot shrink in no time, but Donald Uris had to admit that it was nice to have Stan close to home. He also had to admit that Stan was good at his job.

The kids loved him. They giggled at his sarcastic remarks, groaned at him whenever he set homework and were unafraid to come to him with their 10-year-old problems, seeking his fair judgement and level headed advice. Yes, Stan Uris loved his kids dearly, he even admitted to shedding a tear here and there when his classes finally left for middle school, and he’d be damned if they weren’t going to grow up in a safe and loving place. The thought of packing it in and walking the career path his parents had hoped he would pave after college was a tempting one when he came home with stack after stack of homework sheets and essays and school books, but the way the kids eyes would light up when they saw his neatly written praise on their last homework assignment was more than enough to quash the idea. In short, Stan loved his class, and his class loved him.

Stan pushed open his classroom door with his shoulder and blindly searched the cold wall with nimble fingers until they settle on the light switch, and he flooded the room with the white, artificial glare of the ceiling lights. He walked the well known path to his desk at the front of the room, reaching down to pick up a stray pencil by his chair after he set his folders down on the clutter free table. He took pride in his classroom, keeping it clean and tidy at all times. An untidy working space means an untidy mind, his mother had always told him, and he very much believed it to be true.

Over the summer, he had spent a full day painting new displays on the walls, changing the colour scheme of the room from light yellow to sky blue, penning sparrows onto the walls with help from Richie. All of his pencils had been sharpened, papers organised, glue sticks neatly stacked and reading books tidily arranged on shelves.

“You’re like Mary Poppins when she does all that clicky shit.” Richie had astutely commented, trying to snap his fingers for added effect, but he somehow ended up punching himself in the face.

Stan wished Richie took the same pride in his own classroom instead of giving Stan shit for doing so himself. Richie was content to replace the framed picture of Bill Nye above his desk with an updated snap and buy a new board pen every year. He loved his friend dearly, but he often wonders how he even became qualified to teach, considering he was a health hazard on legs, always tripping over chair legs or barely skimming the children’s faces when he got too animated with his hand movements. Stan had been teaching for a year longer than Richie had but he had known Richie all of his life. In fact, Stan likes to credit himself as the guiding force for getting him off his ass and into the workforce.

It had been a Sunday, when they were both Juniors at UCLA, and Stan was putting the finishing touches to his project for his Primary Education class. He was sat cross legged on the floor of his cramped apartment, blasting Abba, the ground in front of him covered in newspaper as he dabbed his project delicately with his one dollar paintbrush and paint. Everything was peaceful in the world of Stan, that was, until Richie bounded through the door in a whirlwind of neon colours and unruly hair, already speaking at one hundred miles per hour.

“Stanley the Manley, you’ll never believe what the fuck just happened. So i’m sat there, enjoying my weekly Dorito date with that weird guy down the street and- what the flippity fuck is that?”

Stan looked up at him, carefully setting his brush down on the newspaper and moving curls out of his eyes, following Richie’s gaze down to his project, standing sturdily in front of Stan.

“It’s homework.” Stan said, stretching his stiff arms above his head. “It’s a fish.”

Before he knew it, Richie was kneeling on the floor next to Stan, eye to eye with his papier-mache creation, staring it out with trepidation in his gaze.

“So I’ve gotta do a shit ton of consumer research just to have the chance to grace the airwaves, but all you’ve gotta do is make a fish?” Richie whined, sitting back on his heels and pouting at Stan. He reached out his hand to touch, but Stan quickly swatted it away before leaning back down to apply another coat of purple paint to his aquatic masterpiece.

“If you’re that bothered, why don’t you train to become a teacher, Trashmouth.” Stan chastised, ignoring the ‘humph’ that escaped Richie’s as he watched him paint. Stan never actually expected him to do it. He had turned up at Stan’s door almost a year to the day later, holding a handmade dog, wearing a bowtie and donning a kippah on over its curly ears. Stan had answered the door with a hand on his hip, eyebrow raised. Richie had only grinned, his cheeks turning red with the force of him holding back a laugh at his own joke.

“It’s a Cocker Staniel.”

Stan slammed the door in his face.

And now here they were, almost five years later, Richie running late as usual and Stan dreading the looming presence of glitter on his Thursday morning.

Parent-Teacher conferences were the bane of Stan’s existence. He held two every year, one in October while the kids were relatively new in the class and one later on in the year, normally before they left. Usually, the parents didn’t care at all or seemingly cared too much, berating Stan for things as trivial as how he worded homework sheets to the way he dressed. The sheer stress of such things meant that Stan spent the short hour between school ended and his first appointment with Eddie, the school nurse, drinking juice boxes with an ice pack held securely to his head while they chatted aimlessly and watched reruns of Judge Judy on the room’s shitty TV set. This year, though, was going to be the first time he’d handle the parents smoothly and professionally, and he certainly wasn’t going to have a breakdown in his store cupboard afterwards. No way.

He heaved in a sigh, revelling in the slight burn of his lungs as he drank in the air. It was getting closer to half past now, and Stan finally started to get into gear, setting up for the day, refusing to look at the offending vials of metallic crap until he had to. It was 8:55 when Richie finally pulled up outside, fifteen minutes later than he usually was, and he didn’t even afford himself the luxury of mithering Stan as he sprinted down the corridor, hands full of boxes and slammed his classroom door behind him. Richard Tozier was well suited to be a second grade teacher, Stan thought, considering he was a second grader himself.

He opened his door at 8:59, only just making it back to his desk before the whiny ring of the school bell flooded his ears and children started to walk through the door, unbuttoning their coats as they bid him good morning, groaning as they saw what Stan had written on the whiteboard, and Stan couldn’t help but smirk. If they were going to destroy his classroom and his life with pipe cleaners and glitter glue, he was going to make their brains explode with maths.

Stan was sticky by the time 4:30 rolled by. In an effort to make his class a bit more cheerful, he had allowed them to make name tags for their books and work so their parents could easily identify them that evening. He hadn’t, however, thought it was such a good idea when Timothy Jones had walked into him with a full pot of PVA glue, subsequently spilling it down his neatly pressed chinos, covering them in a shiny, brown stain that was going to be a bitch to get out. He couldn’t possibly greet parents looking like there had been an oil spill on his trousers, so in a last resort to gain some semblance of put togetherness, he went knocking on Richie’s door.

“Woah there Stanley,” he grinned as he cut what looked like a melted dinosaur out of a piece of blue card, adding it to a pile of similarly drawn jurassic creatures. “Looks like someone didn’t make it to the can in time. Say, I didn’t know you were into watersports.”

Stan didn’t dignify him with a response, instead sighing and muttering a halfhearted ‘Beep Beep’. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any pants, have you?”

Stan should have known to fear the worse as Richie’s face lighted up with mirth and he spoke to Stan with his Southern Belle drawl.

“Well, Sir, I surely surely do.”

And that’s how Stan ended up sat behind his desk, listening to parents talk about their kids as if they were the only ones on the planet, wearing a pair of hot pink yoga pants that barely fitted him, never mind Richie.

(“Where the fuck did you get these?” “They’re Eddie Spaghetti’s. I-” “Never mind, I’d rather not know.”)

He nodded empathetically as they talked about their children, resisted the urge to roll his eyes as they told him how to do his job, but under no circumstances did he stand up from the table. Propriety be damned, he didn’t want to be fired for public indecency. He was almost done at five minutes to six, his schedule closely adhered to, and if all went well, he’d be in bed by seven. He only had one appointment left, and he let himself relax in his chair, straightening his papers and ticking off names as he waited.

Five minutes passed. And then ten. And then fifteen. It was quarter past six, and he was still waiting for his last appointment to turn up. A pang of annoyance gnawed at Stan. He had been preparing for this for over a month and the parents didn’t even have the decency to listen to him talk about their own kids, for God’s sake. Huffing, he started to pack away, stuffing sheets back into their binders when a ball of emerald and auburn and brown came charging through the door with a small boy in tow.

“I’m so s-sorry, I thought Noah’s mother was coming instead.” the man groaned, panting as he ran a hand through his son’s hair.

He quickly caught his breath and made his way in front of Stan, offering him his hand to shake. If Stan wasn’t so annoyed, he would have noticed the way his blue eyes sparkled or the warmth of his touch or the way his mouth quirked as he spoke. But Stan was irritated, so instead he shook the man’s hand and refused to look at him as he pulled his sheets back out. Stan quickly realised, though, that Noah was stood next to his father, grinning up at Stan.

He quickly softened, smiling back at the boy. Noah was a boisterous member of his class, yes, but he was polite and was quiet when Stan needed him to be and often had an amusing anecdote about his Aunt Bev and Uncle Georgie. Noah Phillips-Denbrough was a good kid, and Stan liked him very much.

“Hey buddy.” he greeted as Noah waved back, his grin widening as he shot back an exuberant ‘hi!’, almost shaking as he gripped to his father’s arm.

Looking at the pair now, Stan could obviously see the family ties. He had had a few dealings with Audra Phillips, and from what Stan could gather, she was a reserved woman who only seemed to speak when she was spoken to, quite unlike her son, who was rowdy to say the least. While Noah had inherited his mother’s swarthy skin and tightly coiled locks, it was easy to see his father in him. Their eyes both lit up in the same carefree way when Stan looked at them and the smile on their faces seemed to be permanent. That, and the blue hue of their eyes were almost identical. While Stan knew divorce often made kids shrink into themselves, Noah had done anything but, and he thinks Mr. Denbrough had been part of the reason why.

“Sorry we’re so late, Mr Uris.” Noah beamed, no evidence of regret traceable on his face, and Stan’s grin involuntarily widened.

“Don’t worry about it Noah.” he said, throwing him a wink that made the young boy dissolve into giggles. “Hey, why don’t you go and finish your drawing from today while I chat to your dad?” he suggested, and Noah didn’t have to be asked twice before he was sitting at one of the rickety desks and scribbling away.

Stan turned his attention back to the man in front of him, cutting him off with a wave of his hand as he tried to speak again, probably to apologise again. “Why don’t we get started, Mr Denbrough.”

“Bill, please.” he insisted, and the smile on his face had Stan repressing a blush.

“Okay then, Bill,” Stan didn’t miss the man’s chuckle, “Let’s talk about Noah’s progress so far.”

In all fairness to Stan, he was completely professional from there on in, only making eye contact when appropriate, never letting himself stray from the topic of Bill’s son, and he certainly didn’t let himself get excited when Bill pushed the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows. Stanley Uris was a paragon of a teacher, answering questions thoughtfully and easily. So what if Bill’s appointment lasted twenty minutes longer than it should have, it’s not like Stan was counting.

It went so well, however, that Stan had ignored one huge, almighty, dirty big fat flaw. He had completely forgotten that nothing good ever happens to him, and sooner or later, it was all going to go tits up. Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long for it to happen.

“Thanks a lot for seeing us, Mr Uris.” Bill had a smile on his face and his voice was dripping with an appreciation that had Stan blushing.

Stan waved his hand in front of him, turning to smile at Noah, who was once again glued to Bill’s side. “Thank you guys for coming.” He shot him a small wink, making the boy beam up at him.

When he turned back to Bill, there was a look clouding his piercing eyes that Stan couldn’t quite decipher, yet it made the warmth on his cheeks deepen further, and before he knew it, Bill was standing out of his chair, arm out in front of him to shake, and Stan was following suit.

He only realised what a huge fuck up it was when Noah burst into fits of giggles.

“Mr. Uris why are your pants pink?” he squeaked out in between laughs, clutching onto Bill’s arm to hold himself up.

Stan’s cheeks burned now, and he was pretty sure you could see him in the dark with the intensity of his blush. He glanced at Bill out of the corner of his eye, surprised to find that his cheeks were the colour of his pants, and he didn’t miss the way his eyes ran over Stan’s somewhat scantily clad legs.

He cleared his throat, the deep bass of his chuckle reverberating in Stan’s chest as he pushed a stray strand of auburn hair from his eyes. “The pink suits you.”

All Stan could do was limply shake the man’s hand, squeak out a pathetic goodbye and usher the pair hastily from the room.

He let his head fall with a thunk against the pink painted door as he shut it closed behind them. Stan had prided himself on keeping himself composed for the past five years, no matter how hard it was. He had people complain about him when his shirt sleeves were too short or when the amount of time designated to reading was deemed ‘questionable’. The way Stan was feeling now had to stop. Yes, he’d had crushes before, but never on a parent. It was hard enough for him being gay in Derry, it was even harder to try to be so and teach at the same time. The last thing he needed was a silly schoolboy crush to come along and wreck the order he’d created.

So, Stan did what he usually did when he’s had, what he’d consider, a stressful day: go home, eat a shit ton of ice cream and watch Say Yes To The Dress until his eyes melt.

Thank God it’s Friday.

#niamh writes #works #this is like 3k words so i doubt it's gonna show in the tags #sigh #stenbrough #stan x bill #stanley uris #bill denbrough #i luv my boys #Anonymous

27 notes · View notes

charlienick · 6 years

Text

some stupid reddie radio show hc

• richie is like grimmy on bbc radio on the breakfast show and he's been there so long and is so well loved that the producers kinda just let him do whatever he wants within reason. he's very loudly and publically bisexual and flirts with Every Single Person they bring in. he hates being up at ass-o’clock in the morning every day but it’s a sweet gig and he’s well loved and he loves his crew so he’s fine

• there's this up and coming actor eddie kaspbrak on the scene that richie is scheduled to interview. he’s struggling to come up with questions for him because he hasn’t seen any of the shit he’s in and is usually too tired to watch films at night anymore (a horrible part of the job because richie loves movies)

• eddie’s out of the closet publically, which he chose to do since this is a movie about the aids crisis, but the topic of boyfriends is blacklisted, which richie is fine with. he’s not a gossip. at least, not on live air

• so eddie’s gonna be in a movie with a bunch of well known people and the interview with richie goes. fucking. HORRIBLY.

• despite being his last guest of the day, it’s still 10:30 am because it’s, well, a breakfast show, and they’re both exhausted. eddie is incredibly obviously uncomfortable/nervous, which in turn is making richie uncomfortable/nervous.

• and when both of these guys get nervous, they really get nervous, so richie is, like, visibly sweating, and they visually record all the interviews too so his camera man (stan) is like "FUCKING COOL IT MAN YOUR SWEAT IS MAKING THE LIGHTS SHINE ON YOUR OILY FACE SO BRIGHTLY WE HAD TO TURN OFF YOUR OVERHEAD LAMP" "oh ha ha ha ha is that what happened?"

• richie asks things like “is this your first radio interview?” (god what is this richie’s first rodeo? what a boring question) and “did you get along with your castmates?” and “does ryan gosling really put his money where his mouth is?” but when he gets to "so what was it like being in a movie with all these famous—" eddie cuts the fuck in.

• beverly, eddie’s handler, giving him the singal to cut it the fuck out. don’t fly off the handle. please. eddie kaspbrak does not fly off the handle. he just. tells it like it is. and if that’s rude, well that’s the other person’s problem

• "okay i'm gonna stop you right there. if you're trying to insinuate that i'm not talented enough to carry this movie like all the other interviewers, i—" "no!” richie shouts, eyes widening and cheeks flaring. he glances around nervously and the crew is giving him looks like this is fucking tanking do something now. “that's not it. not at all. aw hell, alright, let's just—" and then richie RIPS UP HIS QUESTION SHEET like the dramatic motherfucker he is

• "uh. did you just rip up your questions?" eddie asks because this is not his first rodeo, actually, fuck you very much records tozier if that is your real name and he knows that no one can see despite the two cameras being pointed at them. the video feed isn’t live, just something to use for press later.

• "i did. screw those stupid questions i asked you. i’m gonna ask you the things i want to know. what makes you excited about this project? what was your method of getting into character considering how intense the story was?" richie asks, propping his elbow up on the desk and cupping his chin in his hand.

• "oh.” eddie blinks in shock, like, oh this guy does have a soul? and he’s actually interested and isn’t just a weird, awkard guy? whoops. okay. eddie can admit when he’s wrong, at least to himself, so he changes gears. “well my uncle who i was close to as a kid was a victim of aids, and so the opportunity to play a character so similar to his story was a privilege as much as it was cathartic..."

• and then it kind of goes off without a hitch from there. they’re really flowing and eddie is getting asked genuinely interesting questions by richie now, things no other interviewer has asked. he’s totally respectful of the topic while still being his dumb, flirtatious self. eddie is charmed. smitten, really. it’s really obnoxious.

• by the end they're both giggling sweetly and richie is doing some light flirting, not the intensely over the top kind he's been known to with his guests.

• towards the end richie goes "well that was our guest, the delicious, delectable eddie kaspbrak. make sure you go see his movie ‘collison’ in theatres this friday, because i promise you're gonna want this pretty face to bring you to tears on the big screen instead of just hear him do it on radio."

• eddie is blushing like mad and leans into the mic and meekly goes "and because i'm talented." "oh of course. AND because he's talented. what song would you like to play us out with, eds?" "what? my name is eddie. did you forget already? not very professional of you.” zoom in on richie’s grin. “i didn’t forget.” “jesus. can i pick anything?" "within reason, you minx! this IS a top 40 station after all." "well it WAS top 40," eddie giggles. he calls over bill who controls the switchboard and whispers something to him and bill chuckles and nods.

• "what are you two up t—" "well folks, that's our show!" eddie announces brightly. richie scoffs, scandalized, but eddie continues. "i hope you enjoy the dulcet sounds of ‘rocks off’ by the rolling stones." "ohhhh you absolute—" "annnnnd we're clear," bill says from across the room, cutting the mics.

• eddie is a stones guy. fuck, richie seriously hit the jackpot here.

• richie takes off his headphones but eddie doesn't, still dancing to the song coming through. richie smiles over at him and waves mike (the lighting guy) over and asks him to have bill put the music through the overhead speakers. bill does and richie comes up beside eddie, bowing dramatically with his hand out. "may i have this dance?" he asks in some ridiculous british accent, and eddie giggles, rolling his eyes and shrugging. "why not?"

• richie spins him around the room, a bit more practiced than eddie would've assumed with a man who has the gangly limbs of a newborn deer. he calls out to bill to play through his emergency playlist and bill shakes his head with a fond smile and gives him a thumbs up.

• "hey..." richie starts nervously, fiddling with the hem of eddie’s shirt, and, like when was the last time he was this nervous? jesus this kid has gotten under his skin, which is exactly why he says, "whaddya say i take you out to dinner?"

• "are you... are you even allowed to court your guests?" "court?” richie grins with an incredulous raise of his eyebrows. “i like that word. well i'm allowed to court whoever i damn well please. it's a free country," richie shoots back with a sassy cock to his hips and a huge grin.

• "i'm... i'm gonna be really busy with press in the next few weeks," eddie responds breathlessly. "oh. sure. no problem," richie bobs his head very dramatically and for an unnecessarily long time, untangling their limbs. "but!" eddie says, reaching for him again. richie lets himself be tugged into eddie’s space easily. "i'll gladly take you out when the junket is over." "you take me out? i thought i was the one who asked you!" "i thought it was a free country," eddie grins. richie sighs softly, pretending to sound put-out but he can't even manage it with the force of his smile. "alright, mr. kaspbrak."

• "you live in la, right?" eddie asks. "i live wherever you want me to," richie says, trying to pull some sort of seductive Voice, eyebrows jumping. eddie gives him a funny look. "uh. yeah, i do. sorry, i just—you make me a little nervous." "wow. the famous records tozier all tongue tied just from a lowly up-and-comer. why would your viewers think?" eddie asks softly, smiling up at him. "i think they're probably jealous they don't get to court you." "i regret using that word," eddie groans. richie laughs, "you should. it's my new favorite."

• "eddie," bev cuts in quietly with a grin, "you've got another interview at—" "shit!" eddie immediately detaches himself from richie, picking up his things, and richie feels like he just got dunked into cold water. "i'll call you!" eddie yells out to richie before pushing his way through the cameras and lights with bev in tow. she grins and wiggles her fingers at richie. "oh shit," richie sighs, smiling dreamily.

• "oh shit is right," stan says from behind the camera, which still has the green light on, the bastard, "you didn't ever give him your number in the first place." "motherfucker!" "and i caught all of that on camera," stan smirks. "oh i WILL kill you," richie says, turning to the camera and futzing with it. "gimmie that tape!" "nah, you've gotten enough spank bank material for the day," stan says, flipping off the camera. "plus, ben got a whole host of good shit on camera two."

• richie gasps. "BEN-YA-MEEN, YOU WOULDNT" ben just shrugs, flipping his camera off too. "i work for no man, only the love that drives us." "fuck off."

• it’s a week later, the movie has premiered and eddie is the talk of the town. the second the video of the already-infamous interview goes live on twitter (cut with generous amounts of flirting thanks to mike, the absolute ASSHOLE), both their mentions blow the fuck up.

• eddie’s twitter is LITERALLY STILL PRIVATE despite the fact that bev keeps insisting he undo because he can’t get verified that way. eddie could care less about being verified; he just wants his privacy. he thought being private would make it so that no one could @ reply him but he soon finds out that he was very, very wrong when a bunch of ppl on twitter start asking him how his date with richie went. he turns off his notifications after this shit storm

• eddie had followed richie back the day of the interview, and he didn’t know the option to keep replies from ppl you follow had stayed on, so he gets a notif right before one of his last interviews on the junket

• @richierecords: @eddie_kaspbrak you in town? i know a great sushi place

• eddie grins, trying to futz with his phone and figure out how to reply

• @eddie_kaspbrak: @richierecords I’m around, but I thought I was taking YOU out to eat? and how do you know I even like sushi?

• he’s deeply glad he’s private so no one but his friends can see this response because when richie sends back “@richierecords: @eddie_kaspbrak everyone with taste likes sushi, and that gucci suit at the premiere showcased yours very nicely. and i think i’m gonna be the one doing the eating out if all goes according to plan 🍑👅💦” while eddie’s in his last interview. there are like 7,000 likes by the time he checks it

• his eyes widen and his cheeks flush and he immediately presses his phone into his chest so bev who’s beside him in the limo going back to the hotel doesn’t see. he may not understand what the peach emoji was for, but the tongue and the spit was certainly image enough

• bev snorts as she types out a text. “no need to be shy, kaspbrak. your suitor certainly isn’t.” eddie sputters indignantly but bev just laughs without looking up from her phone, “i already contacted his manager. luang’s on center street at 8 pm. it’s like a half-price place and the paps are told to stay the fuck away or they’re getting sued, but seriously? half price? that’s tactless. your boy has no manners. i’m not dealing with you getting food poisoning so be fucking careful.”

• “he’s not my boy! he’s not my anything!” eddie shrieks. bev winces, “stop being shrill at me, i did not do this. you and your libido did.” “i’m barely even attracted to him,” eddie huffs, tapping out a reply to richie of “You stupid motherfucker.”

• “oh, sure, alright,” bev snorts. “we do share a wall in these hotels you know, and they’re unfortunately not very thick. i’m sure it’s very lonely out there for your right hand and your imagination.” “i will fuck you up, marsh, don’t test me,” but then he grins slyly. “and i need both hands for what i get up to, actually.” “oh!” beverly laughs, delighted, finally putting her phone down. “i’d give you a high five, but i don’t need your cum on me. that ain’t in my job description, puddin’.” “FUCK OFF I HAVEN’T MASTURBATED SINCE LAST NIGHT AND I HAVE WASHED MY HANDS SIX TIMES SINCE THEN.”

• their driver chokes on his spit from the front seat and eddie groans into his hands as beverly puts the divider up and laughs

#reddie #it 2017 #fic #should i be working on real shit? maybe #enjoy my procrastination tactic #masterpost #19 #greatest hits

286 notes · View notes

andaleduardo · 6 years

Text

Rooftop N.5

Ao3 N.4 N.6

Chapter preview: “Oh my, do I see jealousy?” Richie spoke with a mocking voice.

At first, Eddie was unaware he was the target of the question, but when everyone turned to look at him instead, the frown was masked with a layer of forced amusement.

“Sure thing, Tozier. I’m sooo jealous that my friends’ shoulders are touching your sweaty armpits.”

Friday 14.05.1993

Even though Richie knew this was the most likely outcome, he was still inconsolably disappointed when Friday came around and his hand was still looking like a dirty watercolour pallet. He was aware of how irrationally he was thinking, unless a miracle came around would the party be on tonight, and even if that happened, no one would come around. The flayers weren’t distributed around students, and the Losers had been warned that the date was postponed.

The week was pretty fucking boring despite the events that took place early on. The classes were agonizingly slow and there was a palpable tension hanging in the air of every classroom, for all the students were oh-so-done with school and wanted more than ever for summer break to come around. Less than a month for it to be over, Richie thinks as the days pass, just a little longer.

The last school-projects of the year are suffocating the Losers with every kind of group work. Richie paired up with Stan and Bill, and all his afternoons were taken up for that purpose only, which in a way was good, because it kept his mind out of other things that clung to his thoughts more than they should. Realistically, they could have wrapped it up last week, but Richie is a master of distraction. He works just as hard as the members of his group, or even harder, if you counted the effort of focusing in the work itself other than every little detail around him that craved attention. He ends up tapping a pencil on a surface until either Bill or Stan tell him to quit it. Then he twists and twists his rings around the fingers of his good hand until that gets boring too and resumes the tapping, but with the metallic material instead which is even louder. In a matter of minutes Stan would say something along the lines of “Let’s end it here for today.” And that’s how you drag a group project up 'til the very deadline, eventually.

But not everything is boring, that’s for sure. Eddie's interactions with him are somewhat changing. Richie has a hard time pondering the option that it might mean something more than kindness between friends, and when he finally settles on believing it, another part of him has to bring rationality back on board to make him rethink things and realise that, after all, that’s all there is to it, kindness towards a hurtful event. A mere friendly gesture. And speaking of friends, Richie got quite overwhelmed with all the attention and questions thrown at him on Wednesday. He was grateful that they cared, but all he really wanted was to move on from once and for all, which was a hard task if all you had to do was take a look at yourself to be reminded of what happened. He gave quick short responses to all the questions first thing in the morning and smothered them with cheek kisses and sided hugs while announcing to the group “I know you all missed me, cuties. But someone has to do the hard work around here, ain’t that right?” And it was worth it when he noticed Eddie’s frown thrown at him while Richie hugged Ben and Stan under his arms.

“Oh my, do I see jealousy?” He spoke with a mocking voice. At first, Eddie was unaware he was the target of the question, but when everyone turned to look at him instead, the frown was masked with a layer of forced amusement.

“Sure thing, Tozier. I’m sooo jealous that my friends’ shoulders are touching your sweaty armpits.” He offered an eye roll, lost in the middle of chuckles from the group. “Count me in next time.” Sarcasm pooling in his voice.

Trying to hide a bubbly smile behind a tentative smirk, Richie let go of Ben and Stan’s shoulders, throwing his hands in the air. “No need to ask twice, Spaghetti man!” he cut the circle down the middle, crowding Eddie’s space with long, bony arms that encircled him tight enough to lift the boy an inch off the ground. With a hand out of the equation, he applied all the strength on mostly one arm and immediately dropped Eddie down again, never letting go of the hug and hiding a smile in the crown of the boy’s head.

“Let me go, you dickhead!” But Eddie offered no resistance to the grip, and that spoke a lot to Richie.

Smiling to himself from the fond memories, Richie is brought back to the present by tripping over a stupid loose stone on the park pavement. He has been wandering around for an hour now, stalling the inevitable moment when he’ll have to go lock himself on the bedroom for the night. He insults the stone out of boredom and resumes his way home, deciding to stop on the closest convenience store for a crappy dinner.

Munching on a piece of bread while watching his house at the end of the road, Richie notices something different. His chewing slows down as he gets closer, stopping in his tracks completely when he reaches the overgrown front lawn.

“What the fuck?” He asks loudly, mouth still full. The question hung in the air as six heads turned to look at him, all of his friends were in front of his door, no longer talking among each other. He saw Beverly smile under the quick-darkening sky. “Am I hallucinating or do I have six losers in my front porch at -” he pretended to look into an invisible watch. “-unplanned hours?”

“That depends.” Beverly answered him while Richie marched his way over to them. “Did you hit your head on your way home?”

“I don’t believe so, no.” His mouth still full and a half-eaten bread on his hand. Eddie was quick to intervene.

“You shouldn’t talk until you swallow, idiot.”

“That’s funny, Kaspbrak. Your mother didn’t complain about my swallowing habits.” He finally finished eating the bite while a group groan was heard in response. “Seriously, though. What’s going on?”

“I wish I could answer that. I’m still trying to figure out why I was dragged from my house mid-dinner.” Richie turned to look at Stan, who was sitting on the steps in front of his house. Stan’s voice was harsh, like usual, but Richie saw the fondness underneath the fake scowl.

He stood quiet, eyes hovering over the six familiar stares on him. Richie almost counted the seconds spent watching a specific one, making sure it wasn’t any longer or shorter than whatever time spent on the others.

Strategies, he says to himself, good logic ninja skills.

“We’re here to have some quality time on a Friday night!” Beverly exclaimed with excitement. Richie almost rolls his eyes at Bev’s attempt on making him feel better, which is totally working, by the way.

“This is really dandy and all,” He then takes his time to look pointedly at his parent’s old cars in the driveway, taking a big bite out of his bread at the same time. “ but my folks wouldn’t really appreciate the invasion all of a sudden.” The last part of his sentence comes out muffled once again by the chewing.

Mike clasped a hand on Richie’s shoulders, making him almost drop the last piece of his dinner on the floor. “That, my friend, is why we’re going to the quarry instead.”

Richie offered him a quick smirk, his attention being dragged to Bev when she flashed him a scrunched up transparent zip lock bag inside the pocket of her jacket. “To have fun.” She winks at him. And what else does Richie need other than his friends and weed for company?

“Well, well chaps. What are we waiting for?” He asks while throwing the last bite in his mouth. Clapping his hands together to get the flour off of them, he motions for Eddie and Stan to get up from where they are sitting on the stairs. Everyone aims for their neglected bikes laying on the front lawn but before Richie could grab his, he notices the way Eddie trembles and sways when he gets up to walk to his bike. He trails closer to him, pushing all of his worries to a minimal amount.

“A lil’ dizzy, are we?” But as expected, all he gets in response is a scoff. He can see right through Eddie’s attempts at pretending that nothing happened and watches him straighten his body.

“M’just fine.” He bent down to pick up his bike and Richie stared longer than what he should. “And don’t spit crumbs all over me, it’s disgusting.” Richie doesn’t believe him for a second, but he shrugs it off playfully and gets on his bike, everyone already taking off ahead of them.

“If you say so.” He turns his head around to shoot Eddie a smirk while running his tongue over his bottom lip.

And if Eddie wasn’t able to play it off like his knees didn’t buckle when he got up, this time was just another failed attempt.

The air was slightly chilly against their exposed knees, but nothing too harsh to make them shiver. It was just enough to keep their skin cool to the touch, enough to make a cuddle seem like a good idea. Enough to make him think that leaving his jacket behind wasn’t a good one. Or maybe –

“Aww, c’mon, Marsh. You’ve done better.” He mocks while inhaling the smoke dancing around inside his mouth. Sitting on the far-left, the rocky ground digging on their asses, Beverly flipped him off.

“Well sorry if I had to get this shit in a rush and didn’t get your gourmet stuff, asshole.” He laughed right back at her, Ben, Mike and Stan between them. Bill sat on Bev’s left side while Eddie was to Richie’s right at the end of their sitting line on the edge of the quarry, legs hovering feet above the calm water below. The sky wasn’t dark yet, they had around two hours before it would get impossible to see a palm in front of their faces in the middle of the forest.

After taking two more puffs, he passes the joint over to his right, but Eddie withdraws into himself to get away from it. In a silent conversation, Richie lifts up one eyebrow as if to ask ‘Are you sure?’ to which Eddie responds by lifting up one palm and nodding. Richie sees the way Eddie’s eyes flicker momentarily to their friends, on the other side of him.

Realisation hits him, Eddie doesn’t need an audience.

“Are you passing the damn thing back tonight?” Stan pushed him out of his thoughts by asking. Richie couldn’t tell if he was actually annoyed this time.

“Being a bitch today, uh Stanley?” He took his precious time to take another drag, eyes locked with him. Shoving an elbow to Richie’s ribs, Stan roughly stole the blunt from his grip to pass it over to Mike, a disgusted frown forming from the smoke that hit him in the face. “No wonder you have a stick up your ass.” Richie quietly murmurs.

There had been a couple of times where Stan joined the group for a smoke, but only in the ‘horrible parties’ he claims to be dragged into. But Richie knows better, Stan does enjoy these things, it only takes him a little bit longer to feel comfortable doing it while being watched.

When Mike turns to Ben, the latter quietly blushes and shakes his head no, Bev accepting the offer instead. This is just the way they roll.

Eddie doesn’t know what’s going on. All he’s sure of is that everyone is laughing, maybe crying. Maybe both. How much time passed is uncertain. The night feels way warmer now that he’s leaning on Richie out of fear of falling in the water. He notices that Ben is red in the cheeks and Stan has finally given into smoking some himself. Eddie vaguely remembers getting hit in the face with the white smoke, making him cough out of habit of doing just so.

Can you get high from being (extremely) close to people getting it on? Eddie doesn’t know, and he doesn’t feel like he’s high. He feels warm and giggly and comfortable.

His eyes drifted down to Richie's lap, observing the bandaged hand laying on top of his thigh, palm up to the sky. There was an urge, so strong, to grab it and wrap his fingers through Richie's. Slowly, Eddie inched his left hand closer, but suddenly his human pillow started turning and he almost hit an eye on a bony shoulder.

Lifting his head, Eddie stared at Richie, who was looking at him with shiny, wet eyes.

“What?” Eddie whispered with a lifted eyebrow.

“Just watch this.” With a wink, Richie turned around to face Stan. Eddie inched forward to observe what turned out to be the most shocking event between Losers.

Stan himself was talking with Mike, an active conversation filled with mocking voices and laughs. Eddie doesn’t remember seeing him this careless before, but there’s a chance he has just forgotten. He smiles at his friend’s happiness, only for it to be interrupted when Richie elbows Stan in the ribs, much like before, but with reversed roles. Stan turns around, way to happy for his smile to vanish, but slightly smaller. He opens his mouth to ask something, anything, but Richie cuts him to it, speaking loudly and putting a hand on Stan’s shoulder.

“Stan the Man! You’re so red, right there darling!” Richie brings his covered hand up, poking Stan in the cheek playfully. And now that Eddie’s noticing, he really is blushing. “You look like you need to cool off." Stan’s smile has died completely by now, annoyed for being interrupted on a nice moment.

“Is there a point to this conversation?” From his peripheral vision, Eddie knows that all the Losers became an audience for this ‘messing up with Stan’-Tozier moment, which is a mere repetition of every day.

However, what really shocks everyone is what follows next.

“Oh, s’just, you seem really hooooot and bothered…” Richie drags the words in a weird way. “But fear not, my great bird-boy, I have the perfect solution for ya.” And just like that, he’s pushing Stan off the cliff, applying at the strength he can on Stan’s shoulder blades.

Stan screams, everyone’s jaws fall, and you know what else falls? Stan does. Eddie watches, horrified and leaning over the edge, as Stan’s body leaves the ground and grasps around for anything, literally anything, to grab on to.

“Asshole! What the fuck?!?!” Those were the last coherent words Stan was able to say before he gave in to screams and shrieks while falling in the water down below.

Richie loses it.

He cries his eyes out from laughing so hard, grasping his sides and pointedly ignoring the Loser’s own screaming at him. Mike is dead-on freaking out, torn between killing Richie with his hands or jumping after Stan, who’s now in the water, feet below his friends, moving around freakily and trying his best to stay afloat and breathe harshly at the same time, the cold water making the task harder for him.

It honestly looks like the world is about to end. All of them are speechless but all of them are trying to beat Richie up with words. Bill is waving his arms around in protests, his stutter getting the best of him and making him breathless from being stuck on: “Wh- Wha- Wha-” ‘s, trying so hard to blurt out a simple “What the fuck just happened!?!”

Ben is shaking in horror, squinting down at the water to never loose Stan out of sight, at the same time as he is grabbing Mike’s torso, trying to keep him from getting up and kicking Richie down to the water too.

Eddie is straight up beating Richie with his own two hands, altering from punches at his side and grabbing Richie’s arm and shaking him out of his existence. “Why the hell would you do that? What is wrong with you!” But the other boy is still grasping his mid-section, laughing on and on with no means to stop.

And Bev? Well… Bev starts laughing too. Because apparently, shoving a person down a cliff in the darkening sky while the other is totally defenceless, it’s fucking funny for her. So she laughs, and much like Richie, she starts to cry.

Ben stares at her with plain surprise, this is probably the most wicked thing that happened to him all month. Eddie stops physically assaulting Richie when her giggles reach him. Everyone just turns to stare at her, even Richie’s laughing died down to focus on her with fond amusement.

A faint, distant eco of Stan’s voice reaches the six at the top of the cliff.

“You’re insane! I’m going to murder you, Richie!” The sound of his friend’s voice brings Bill back to reality and he quickly scrambles to his feet and backs away from the edge.

“Where are you going?” Eddie asks, his voice apprehensive.

“We sh-should go meet S-Stan down th-th-there.” Bill’s stutter is winning the battle.

Mike gets up while shaking his head in disbelief, murmuring under his voice “I have no idea what’s going on.” to no one in particular. Richie is watching all of them, not a glint of regret in his blood. He waits for Beverly to stand on her feet, no longer laughing, to grab Ben’s hand and help him up. Eddie seems to snap out of his trance and quickly rushes to get up to follow the others, who are already making their way down the rocky trails in quick long steps. But before he’s able to do it, there’s a hand grasping his wrist weakly.

He looks down at Richie, big soft eyes staring right back at him. “Let them go.” Richie tells him. And surprisingly, even to himself, Eddie sits back down on his spot, thigh brushing against the other boy. He doesn’t feel calm anymore, he feels confused and shocked and overwhelmed.

“Why would you push Stan?” His eyebrows scrunch, and Richie almost can’t handle how cute he looks. “What if he got hurt? Now he’s all wet and it’s cold. He’s going to get sick, Richie, I can’t believe you did thi-”

“Cause I wanted to be alone with you.” Richie cuts Eddie’s rambling with a low voice. He looks kind of concerned, but Eddie doesn’t know why.

Eddie’s heart beats wildly against his ribs, nothing makes sense anymore. “You… wanted to be alone with me?” Richie nods, eyes always locked with him. “There were easier ways to do that, we could have just left for a bit or-”

“Do you trust me?” And if Eddie wasn’t altered right now, he would throw Richie to the water himself, for cutting him off again. Hesitantly, Eddie’s eyes drifted down to the spot where he could faintly see his friends’ shapes, near the water. “Stan is okay, I promise.” His attention is brought back to Richie, who was also eyeing the group but is now staring in his eyes again. At Eddie’s silence, Richie sighs and continues. “I want to try something, but only if you let me, Eds.”

“Will you throw me off this cliff, too?” He couldn’t help himself to say this, a small grin threatening to appear.

“We can manage that later, if you want.” Richie winks at him and watches playfully as shock crosses Eddie’s features for a moment, before he realises this is plainly Richie joking around and allows himself to relax again.

Somewhere away from them, Eddie can barely make out Stan’s voice: ‘Is he mental? He has to be fucking mental!’ but something else gets his attention. Richie inches slightly closer to where Bev placed the tiny bag on the ground and takes out the second and last rolled up joint she brought along. Eddie gulps down his anxiety and embarrassment.

“Oh.” It’s all he manages to say, his voice small, lost in the middle of the nature around them.

Looking away from the bag he’s holding, Richie lays his eyes on Eddie’s, watching him carefully from underneath his lashes.

“We don’t have to, you know?” Eddie nods back in response, gulping a second time and watching as Richie flips on his lighter.

He feels childish, and now there’s a chance to change that. There’s nothing to be nervous about, Richie would never make fun of him for struggling, and his mom would never know. But just the thought of Sonia makes his skin prickle with anxiety, it’s almost like she’s here, somehow, watching him, hidden away, studying the way he is acting and what he intends to do, him, Eddie, her baby, with another boy so close and drugs shared betwee-

Richie takes Eddie’s chin between his fingers, snapping him out of his thoughts by lifting his head up a little, just enough for their faces to inch closer. Eddie inhales sharply and lets himself study Richie’s features, which somehow calms him down a little.

Richie’s eyes are blotchy red and wet, like tears would be shed at any given moment. A nose slightly pink in colour, probably from the cool air of the night, though Eddie doubts that that could explain why Richie’s cheeks are just, if not more, darker in colour.

When things start to get way too intense to be normal, Eddie flick’s his eyes down to the blunt trapped between Richie’s fingers. He calmly adds “I want to… but I don’t know how.”

And that’s enough for Richie. Eddie tenses up slightly when Richie’s hand, still holding his chin, moves to accommodate his thumb to rest on top of Eddie’s lower lip. He doesn’t know what to do, so he looks impatiently and nervously, waiting for whatever he intends on doing. If he’s honest with himself, Eddie would take anything from him at this point, even being thrown in the water.

Before he knows it, Eddie lets his mouth slip open, the thumb pressing slightly harder on his lip. He gave up on rationality moments ago, what else was he supposed to do? He certainly wouldn’t scold Richie for whatever they’re doing, because he’s just as eager for it, but way more lost.

“I’m going to try something.” Eddie slightly jolts up with Richie’s voice breaking the silence. “Is that okay?” He simply nods back and stares, probably blushes too, as Richie brings the joint up to his own lips, face never inching away. Richie sucks up the air inside his mouth, lips wrapped around the rolled paper and hollowing cheeks.

Eddie is glad that he’s sitting down because his legs feel numb just from this and his fingers twitch where’re they’re gripping the end fabric of his khaki shorts.

When Richie pulls the blunt away, hand lying beside both their bodies, his lips are pressed closed and he comes nearer (Eddie didn’t think that was possible). The pressure on his bottom lip returns, Richie is making sure his mouth keeps open, and suddenly Eddie feels so vulnerable. Naturally, he tilts his head to the side when Richie does it in the opposite way, their mouths so close that Eddie can no longer think, he can only feel a heat taking over his entire body.

Should he close his eyes? He doesn’t know. Would that be weird? It’s wicked and painful to stare at Richie when he’s so close, making him cross-eyed momentarily. But Richie keeps them open, so Eddie does too.

His gaze flicker down for a moment when Richie’s lips twitch, and before Eddie grasps the reality of whatever this is, smoke is being blown right between Eddie’s lips.

‘Holy shit.’ He thinks. ‘Holy shit this is happening, what do I do? What do I do?’

Eddie’s knuckles turn white when he grabs at Richie’s forearm, somehow pulling it closer. The urge to cough is heavy on his throat, but he pushes it back. The next words Richie speaks are so soft that he barely acknowledges them over his internal rambling.

“You have to inhale.” He says between smoke. Eddie clumsily attempts to breathe through his mouth, allowing his throat to relax and completely forgetting the need to cough out a lung.

When Richie pulls back, but only slightly, Eddie is absolutely sure that even without the sunlight to shine on them, anyone would be able to see the blood rushing underneath his cheeks and neck. But at least he’s not alone, for Richie managed to darken his own blush out.

Both boys lost track of time after that, drifting in their own little bubble until the burning died down. Their lips had brushed against each other in unintentional ways, their asses were sore from the uncomfortable soil and Eddie ended up struggling with the smoke for a while, but Richie was patient, and Eddie was persistent. When five other voices started being audible, they drew apart in unnatural ways.

While Richie got his ears scolded by a drenched, shivering, and constantly-complaining-about-his-ruined-shoes Stan, Eddie took his time getting up on both feet and wondered briefly why his friends took so long to come back. Later, both Richie and him would find out it was the work of none other than Beverly Marsh. The rest of the night was spent in her house, vacant for the weekend. All their way to get there resulted in Stan getting sick from the resistance of the air while they biked and Richie trailing behind the poor boy while telling the group that they should have joined Stan to skinny-dip.

Later, Stan made sure to drop his still wet clothes on top of a napping Richie and hit him with the destroyed shoes wherever he managed to reach. This is just the way they roll.

rooftop taglist: @richietoaster @rainydayriots @reddieloves @thetrashmouthclub @lemonboi03 @noodleboyshane @pillsandglasses @studpuffin @dandelion-stan @reddiesetrichie @squishynonbinarytwink @itschunky @burymestanding @duderrific @its-rye @salty-kaspbrak @youtubequeens @reddieseggrolls @addimagination @pastelstozier @sleepysirenprincess @constantreaderfool @mrs-vh @eds-trashmouth

perma taglist: @constantreaderfool @mrs-vh @eds-trashmouth @girasol-eddie

#reddie #fanfiction #it #losersclub #rooftop #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #writing #ao3 #beverly marsh #mike hanlon #ben hanscom #stanley uris #bill denbrough #pennywise happened but certainly dead #drugs?

71 notes · View notes