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kafka-ish · 4 years ago

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jealousy is a disease, get well soon | r.t.

richie gets a new girlfriend. she’s smart, popular, and pretty. but where does that leave y/n?

word count: 4,657

warnings/included: nsfw (smut, public sex), cliffhanger, kinda angsty, fem!reader

request: (from anonymous) “jealous richie tozier x reader smut?”

a/n: i feel like richie is ooc in this one but lmk what you think

Three months, eight days, and six hours. It had been three months, eight days, and six antagonizing hours since Richie Tozier started dating Vicki Horowitz.

At first, it wasn’t so bad. Richie would still make his usual appearance at the lunch table with the Losers. He’d crack his usual jokes, then be on his way. He’d still walk with y/n to the library after school and he’d still make googly eyes at the cheerleaders who frequented the young adult section and hadn’t bothered to change from their uniforms yet.

But as the days got shorter and the timeline of Richie’s relationship got longer, something changed. Richie’s mouth became less trashy. He found the way his hairline was supposed to part. And along the way, the graphic tees he wore were now button-ups in a solid shade.

“What are you thinking about?” y/n asked. The question wasn’t foreign to Richie, but his answer was new to her ears.

They were sitting in the school library, as opposed to the public one they’d usually go to. Richie’s head rested in her lap; his mess of hair strewn all over the skirt of y/n’s dress—but she didn’t mind. He was sneaking a smoke even though there were no windows and offered her one of his cigs even though he knew becoming one step closer to death wasn’t something y/n was particularly fond of.

y/n accepted the cigarette anyway. She didn’t light it but tucked it behind her ear for safekeeping—a souvenir. Because this was the first time they’d hung out in weeks. Just the two of them; skipping their lunch period in an empty library because who even reads anymore?

“Nothin’ I really wanna tell you about, kid.” Richie stopped calling y/n sweetheart and babe long ago. Icky Vicki—a name y/n came up with without Richie’s knowledge—had requested she be the only babe or sweetheart in his life. And that’s how it was so on and so forth.

The heart beating in y/n’s chest grew increasingly louder because Richie used to tell her everything. Her hand left his scalp which she was once massaging under the tangles that were somehow still soft and lush. His eyebrows furrowed when she started to pull away from him.

“You’re disgusting, Tozier.” y/n then realized she didn’t have to ask Richie what he was thinking about. He was thinking about his girlfriend and the nights they’d shared on multiple occasions.

“What did I do?” He was now sitting up and facing his friend. Could he even call her a friend anymore? When was the last time they hung out? Richie stomped out his half-smoked Marlboro on the rug of the library, not caring that it would leave a mark, with the brand-new sneakers Vicki bought for him. His hands dug around in the front pocket of his jeans, searching for the Altoids container he kept on him at all times. Cinnamon. He downed half the box, the same way you’d chug a beer at a frat party because I hate it when you smoke, Rich echoed in his ears everytime he contemplated the pack of Marlboros that burned a hole in his other pocket.

y/n didn’t say anything. She got up, smoothed out her dress where Richie had left wrinkles, and stalked off.

It wasn’t like y/n to be jealous. When Bill got his first girlfriend, she jumped for joy and asked for her contact info so they could have sleepovers and give each other makeovers. When Mike started flirting with the new girl who moved into the plot of land next to his, y/n didn’t bat an eye.

So what was different this time?

y/n didn’t waste her precious time thinking about it. As much as she wanted to, she didn’t let Richie Tozier consume her thoughts, at least not consciously, during her restless nights and grey days. She assumed it wasn’t worth it to let Richie and his icky girlfriend get the best of her. Because that would mean they won.

The two hadn’t hung out since then.

They weren’t in a fight, but they weren’t on each other’s good sides. Necessarily.

Richie opted to spend the rest of the week with Vicki and y/n managed to get by the way she usually had for the past three months.

“Maybe you’re jealous?” Beverly offered. y/n found herself spending a lot more time with Bev now that she marked out Richie’s name with a red marker from her list of friends.

y/n scoffed and handed Beverly her right hand for her to paint. Jealous? That’s absurd. She admired her newly painted left hand. The dark green color surprisingly complimented her undertones perfectly.

“Why would I be jealous?” y/n couldn’t bring herself to look at her friend. She didn’t want her eyes to give away a reality she wasn’t ready to face, and she didn’t want to find a look in Beverly’s that only confirmed what she was suggesting.

“Oh, come on.” Beverly’s head threw back—a sign that she was becoming annoyed with her friend’s stubbornness and groaned. “Put two and two together. You and Richie used to spend every day together.” Her hands left y/n’s to make a sort of sandwiching motion. “Now you don’t.” They spread apart. Beverly shrugged nonchalantly as y/n started to realize something it seemed everyone already knew.

“I can’t believe you think I’m jealous of Richie.” Was all y/n could bring herself to say. But her thoughts wandered exactly where Beverly predicted.

To Richie Tozier, who was expectedly hanging out with one Vicki Horowitz. They were walking the cement of the strip mall. It was something Vicki did often, even before she had a boyfriend, and something Richie did often now that Vicki had attached himself to her like a dog on a leash.

“What do you think about that dress?” Vicki stopped outside of a small boutique. Her feet were planted firmly on the ground and her right arm was linked with Richie’s left while her free hand pointed to a small, black dress that allowed for practically no breathing space.

“’S cool,” Richie said with no sign of interest. He’d sworn they passed that dress three times by now and the pavement under his feet felt like the entryway to Satan’s humble abode.

“Cool?” Richie didn’t notice his girlfriend’s trimmed eyebrow shoot up in disbelief at the boy whose arm she held onto. “Well, what do you think of the dress on me?” Her voice dipped an octave lower and her eyes had that knowing look they always did before she was about to take a standardized test. Or when they were about to do it. Maybe that’s how Vicki roped Richie into this relationship.

Four months ago, Richie would have never thought of dating Vicki Horowitz. Not because she was out of his league. Every girl was out of his league, according to the dopes he called friends. But Richie never thought about batting an eye in Vicki Horowtiz’s direction. She was a governor’s scholar and the school’s class president ever since 1990. She was also a member of the same student council y/n was on, but to think he could score both of them would be a page from a fairytale.

It was a fairytale the day Vicki Horowitz had come up to him and the Losers at lunch, asking if she could have a word with him, no not you, him.

“What’s cookin, good-lookin’?” And Richie scolded himself for those being the first words spoken to the Vicki Horowitz.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” Her blazing blue eyes rolled playfully, and Richie smiled because the only other time a girl had called him anything remotely close to cute was when y/n straightened out his collar and fluffed up his hair at homecoming. Don’t you clean up nice. “I want you to go out with me.”

“What sorta charity case are you workin’ here, hot stuff?” In Richie’s mind, he had every right to be incredulous. Girls didn’t ask him out. Girls didn’t even say yes when he asked them out.

And maybe it was a charity case when, a month in, Vicki had convinced Richie to iron his jeans and wear shirts that were only one color. Maybe it was a charity case when Richie found himself eating lunch with Vicki’s group of friends instead of his—talking about scholarship programs and studying abroad instead of the new werewolf movie that somehow scared the cripes out of him and when Batman’s new comic issue would be released. Maybe it was a charity case when Richie no longer used words like fuck and shit and began popping mints like they were drugs because Vicki wouldn’t let him smoke around her.

His white lace-ups kicked mindlessly at the sidewalk he stood at. He pondered the question even though there wasn’t much to ponder about. “Then I’d say that dress just got hot,” Richie smirked, and Vicki slapped him in the side.

Of course, you would were the words he expected to hear. But as much as Richie wanted her to be, Vicki wasn’t y/n and instead said, “Did you go over the vocab packet I slipped in your locker?

“I got it.” Richie’s free hand took residence in his pocket. He felt around for the box of Marlboros there and wondered if he should light one in front of her. Three months—almost four, he’d been in this relationship, and ever since a month ago he was beginning to think it was one-sided. “I, uh, didn’t get the chance to go over it.” He coughed and looked down at her, not expecting to see her eyes burning through his.

“You smell like cinnamon,” Vicki said. Her gaze softened but Richie wasn’t impressed. What was it about her? Was it her who changed, or him? Richie’s mind couldn’t wander any further—his thoughts sliced by Vicki’s voice. “What’s up with you?” She wasn’t usually the concerned type, but Richie knew she was being genuine when her eyes started hopelessly searching his.

“I’m tired,” Richie lied. “Y’know, we’ve been walkin’ so much. Ye ole feet need a rest.” Richie laughed but Vicki didn’t. She didn’t usually find him funny. She didn’t usually find anything funny except for small dogs in purses and grammatical mistakes.

“You could’ve just said so.” It was one of the few times she let up, but she was good. She was good at a lot of things, actually.

Vicki drove him home in silence. It wasn’t a talking kind of day and the radio was left untouched since neither of them could agree on a music station.

“Call me.” Were her last words to him before he stepped out of her daddy’s Mercedes.

Richie didn’t say anything. He stepped inside his house, his back slumped against the front door as he finished his thoughts from earlier that day in the comfort of his own home.

Why, out of everyone in Derry, would Vicki Horowitz choose to date someone like Richie Tozier? Of course, he’d be an idiot—which he wasn’t (that’s debatable)—to pass up an opportunity to go out with someone as eclectic as her. His thoughts betrayed him, finding their way to Vicki’s long, blonde hair and always rosy cheeks.

Obviously, he’d miss her if he broke things off between them. But there was something else that twisted his gut, telling him to do so.

And Richie always trusted his gut. He’d trust it if it told him to pick C on his math test or if it told him to jump off the golden gate bridge.

It was Monday, in the corner behind Derry High where everyone smoked, where the breakup took place. Richie had the decency to break it off somewhere private and Vicki had the decency to not cry or beg him to stay.

“Hey.” Richie’s voice was soft. His back stabilized by the bricks behind him and Vicki didn’t need to question what this was about.

“Hi.” Her tone held the same solemnness as his. “The least you could do was invite me somewhere nicer to break up with me.” It was the only time Richie laughed at one of her jokes and the last time he would. And though he wanted to, Richie couldn’t be surprised that Vicki already knew what he called her over for. She was a smart girl with a smart mouth to match.

“You know?” He stood up straight and took a drag from his cigarette.

“If you weren’t smoking, I would’ve thought otherwise,” Vicki said truthfully. Just then, a flood of students burst through the doors of Derry High. School was out. “I’m not fond of it, but I’m not going to hold you back.”

Richie wanted to scoff. He thought of the one afternoon when Vicki spent an hour combing through his hair, so the strands laid straight and naturally began to part to the side. He thought of how she scolded his unhealthy use of recreational drugs to the point he had to live a double life. He thought of how his time was no longer spent with his friends, but with her.

I’m not going to hold you back my ass.

But this was no time to argue.

Richie put out the cigarette, barely smoked, and walked away. Away from button-up shirts. Away from vocabulary packets and the debate of the use ‘impact’ in place of ‘effect’. Away from Vicki.

His rough footsteps hit the ground under him with a thump. Richie knew exactly where he was going. And maybe it was wrong that his first instinct was to cross the path of a certain someone after he had just called things off with his girlfriend—ex-girlfriend. But maybe Richie didn’t care.

It took him approximately ten minutes to walk to the Derry Public Library and approximately two minutes for an indescribable feeling to tear through his stomach. His feet lurched forward, but Richie steadied himself by reaching for one of the wooden shelves of the bookcase he stood behind.

It was y/n. As he expected, she was sitting at one of the desks. But her nose wasn’t stuck in her chem book, cramming for tomorrow’s test. It was pointed towards Matt Brimmer, upturned, along with her crinkled eyes and dazed smile. Was Matt Brimmer really that funny?

Richie knew he could make her smile like that. He knew he could make her smile even wider. So, he didn’t know why he was having seconds thoughts right now. The other voices in his head, telling him how inferior he was to so-called Matt Brimmer. Matt Brimmer on the football team. Matt Brimmer with the golden hair. Matt Brimmer the golden boy.

Everyone knew who Matthew Brimmer was; it’d be a crime not to. Although he wasn’t the Quarterback, he was the main reason Derry High’s football team got any of the wins they had. He wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but his prince charming smile and locks that reminded Richie of that Rapunzel story made up for it. He got by.

Richie had two options. He could go home and feel sorry for himself or he could wait for y/n and confront her after her study session. Was what they were doing even considered studying?

He opted for the second since he had already spent enough time feeling sorry for himself. And one dreadful hour later of mindlessly picking at his shoe and flipping through various pages of children’s books, Richie caught y/n alone, about to leave the already dark library.

The lights were dimmed, and the sun outside had already set. There was no sign of the librarian or her volunteers when y/n’s worn in high-tops came into his eyeline. He was sitting cross-legged, with a book in his lap. But his mind wasn’t on the pages.

Richie’s doe eyes widened under his magnifying lenses when they trailed up the skin of his friend’s bare legs that had stopped in their tracks. y/n was wearing a denim mini skirt in the middle of winter and how she hadn’t attracted goosebumps yet was a question he’d save for later.

“H-hey!” Richie bounced to his feet, standing at his full height.

“Hi.” y/n eyed him skeptically. She was holding a book in one hand. Her other hand was attached to the strap of her backpack.

“I saw you with Matt,” Richie blurted out. His own words surprised him because although he wasn’t shy—far from it—he wasn’t confrontational either. No. That was Bill. Bill would be the type to ask about the guy you had just got done cuddling with at the football game even though he was your boyfriend. But y/n and Richie weren’t dating, and Richie didn’t like her like that. Did he?

“Okay.” Was all y/n said. Her face was blank, void of any emotion. A sign. And her eyes bore into his, the way a police car’s emergency lights catch you when you’re speeding.

She was about to leave, probably to return her book, until Richie’s hand coiled around her wrist.

“What?” The irritableness in y/n’s tone became slightly more palatable. The one word struck Richie’s core and the voice in his head telling him telling him that this would be a good idea was now making its retreat.

“Matt Brimmer, eh?”

“Please.” Her expression grew more disgusted by the second; eyebrows raised; lips puckered as if she had just sucked the life out of a lemon. “You’re the last person who gets to commentate on my love life.”

Richie’s heart panged at the last words. Love life. If this were true—if y/n were dating Matt Brimmer—Richie quite literally wouldn’t know what to do with himself. His face didn’t show it, but right now, he was a guest at his funeral. Everyone was wearing black except him and Stan was giving the eulogy.

Only Richie would do what Richie did next. It was an awful act of…whatever because this newfound feeling in his chest was too much for him to take. Both of his hands cupped either side of her cheeks which were now hot, but not from embarrassment. He dove in for a kiss, both of his lips capturing her bottom one. The quietest moan rolled off her tongue, but before any more noises could be made, she pulled away.

“You have a girlfriend,” y/n said, as much as she didn’t want to. “and I’m—”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re with Wonderboy.” Richie heaved out a sigh loud enough for y/n to forget what had just happened moments ago and raise her eyebrows, only to ask what’s wrong. In fact, she did oh so conveniently forget about his actions from earlier, and her right eyebrow quirked.

“What are you thinking about?” She asked and Richie didn’t realize how much he missed that question until now. How much he missed her.

The color in his eyes seemed to darken—like they were hooded by a shadow—and she was sure it wasn’t the doing of the lack of lighting in the room.

But Richie didn’t reply. His lips trailed back to hers again. The two melded into each other like iron being welded. This time y/n didn’t pull away. She lingered long enough to taste the cigarette he’d hardly smoked earlier and mints he didn’t swallow whole this time.

It was Richie who broke the kiss, only to press one onto her neck. The tip of his pointed nose tickled as it grazed the skin of her cheekbone and his chapped lips felt new and exciting when they left kisses below her ear.

“Richie.” y/n would be ashamed to admit this was something she’d been waiting for. That this very moment was a scene from her dreams that she hadn’t got the proper amount of time to explore because she’d awoken before the climax.

“You’ll have to be quiet, doll,” Richie mumbled against her skin. y/n could’ve fainted right then and there, but she refrained; wanting to experience this moment fully conscious. His fingers found their way to her side, gripping the fabric of her white mock neck casually as if this were something they’d done hundreds of times before. There was something about the way he handled her that made y/n insecure. Just knowing he had practiced these types of moves on girls before her had sparked a light in the pit of darkness that was her stomach. Her hands flew to his cheeks. The pad of her thumbs ran across his pale skin now blossoming pink.

Richie twisted their position, backing y/n into the case of books behind her—full to the shelf. His hands ghosted their way under her top, brushing her bare midsection. It was soft but cold, even under the sweater textile. It didn’t help that his hands could substitute for ice.

y/n giggled—a sound so sweet he’d cherish ‘til the end of time. A sound he’d never heard from Vicki’s lips. Her breath, smelling of lemon lozenges, fanned his face in a hot cloud. Richie wanted more. If he had any less dignity, he’d beg for more.

It’s not like y/n wanted to giggle during this new act of intimacy between them. To be frank, she was…upset. Who was Richie Tozier to leave her hanging for a girl who wore frilly chiffon blouses on Wednesday only to wear her jeans low rise so everyone and their grandmother could see her pink lace thong peeking from them on Friday? Who was Richie Tozier to leave her hanging at all? The late nights she’d spent at the Derry Public Library alone, in hopes the certain someone she snuck glances at during their passing period and her Pre-Calculus class only left an empty feeling in her heart and a rotten aftertaste in her mind. To let Richie know he was the reason for her pleasure and the hand between her thighs at night would be letting him win.

But what’s life without a few losses?

Richie’s movements never stopped—they were quick, but enough to send sparks to the one place y/n needed attention the most. His hands traveled lower, eventually reaching the hem of her skirt that ended just four inches above the knee. Distractedly, he pinched the thick material between his thumb and index finger. The roughness of the denim somehow satisfyingly scratched the edge of his fingers—drawing him out of his trance.

He lifted her skirt—revealing y/n’s ballerina pink underwear Richie only got to see at the quarry. There was no time for them to completely undress—and if they did, it’d be far too scandalous (as if what they were doing right now wasn’t already sinful).

Richie’s head whipped away from y/n’s neck; his eyes frantically darting around the space around them, seeing if anyone was nearby. y/n’s hands once again took his face in them, directing his attention back to her. Richie smiled as soon as her features came into view: black mascara smudged on her bottom lash line and the lipstick previously on her lips found a new home on her frenulum. She was mind-blowingly good looking even in a disordered state.

His hands left her upper thigh—where he had been leaving feathery strokes. y/n presumed he was about to unbuckle his belt. But he didn’t. He stood there, silently appreciating the scene displayed before him, and also wishing they had more time or had a setup more comfortable. His hands rested at the silver clasp of his belt, daring to make a move but also frozen in time.

“What are you waiting for?” y/n sniped, and Richie’s confidence level was found through the roof; like the green health bar when you first slip a quarter into the Street Fighter machine.

Nimbly, Richie’s fingers went to undo his belt and slip off his jeans and boxers underneath. It didn’t take long for his lips to crash against hers. A bruise would be left later for memories’ sake. His tongue swiped her bottom lip, tasting birthday cake in the process.

y/n’s own hands were small, but they made an effort to run through his hair, feeling the left-over gel from yesterday and the abnormal amount of times it had been brushed through. She tugged at the roots, eliciting a groan from him that was luckily muffled by y/n’s mouth.

His hands found their original place on the curve of y/n’s hips. But first, he made quick to strip her of her undergarments. An innocent shade for a not so innocent act. Richie was fast to slip in—not giving y/n the time to adjust around him. She whimpered and he swore he could feel a tear against both of their cheeks.

“You’re dripping.” Richie didn’t address the quiet tears that rolled down the slope of her face, too concentrated on the feeling of something else rolling against him. y/n’s hips perked up, a desperate attempt to meet his; ardent and needy. He took it as a sign. His thrusts sped up, coated in her silk.

The substance shared between them was like glue holding their bodies together. Richie’s hands surprised y/n when they squeezed the back of her legs, urging her to jump up, and stabilizing her when she did. Her legs coiled around his, allowing for Richie to find a deeper spot none of her other hookups could.

“Can Matt Brimmer fuck you like this?” Despite the shivers his words sent down her spine, y/n finally knew what this was about. She had her suspicions, but his words only confirmed them.

His voice was hushed, only for her to hear, but she supposed if he screamed it no one would hear them in the seemingly vacant building.

y/n didn’t reply. She felt her eyes roll back and his hips snap in unpredictable paces against hers. It was rare—exceptional, even—that y/n found release this fast. She could blame it on the thrill of potentially getting caught. Their bodies covered yet splayed out inappropriately for anyone to walk in on. She could blame it on Richie; that she was finally attached at the hip, literally, with her lifelong best friend and not-so-guilty pleasure fuck whenever Beverly and she ran out of sleepover games. Her grip on his hair tightened as well as the walls around him. The prolonged whines she had been biting between her teeth turned into heavy pants—her breath mixing with his.

Miraculous, it was, that Richie was able to remain noiseless when he came. He stayed inside her for a second more, dwelling in the ecstasy the two had shared for as long as he could. It was only until y/n’s eyes greeted Richie’s when he pulled out and redressed his half-naked body.

She wasn’t glaring this time, but she didn’t look happy either. Usually, girls were supposed to be happy after sex. Second thoughts started to litter his mind. Richie couldn’t help but think he came short. But he was relieved when y/n spoke up.

“Can Vicki Horowitz make you feel that way?” Her skirt was now properly covering her thighs and she must’ve pulled her underwear up and Richie hadn’t noticed. y/n left him with a quick peck to the lips, smirking into it as she did. It was dominant. Possessive. The last of what Richie saw of her was the back of her now messy hair when she picked up her backpack and walked out—through the maze of books and out the glass doors.

Richie was in awe. Still in a post-orgasmic condition, his fingers ran to his neck, tracing over the newly forming blemish y/n left as a trade for the dozens he gave her. Richie stood there a few minutes more. His palm pressed against the mark only to leave so his index finger could trace his lips that a gracious residue of berry lipstick and saliva mixture tacked onto.

He’d catch her tomorrow.

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just-jordie-things · 5 years ago

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Accidental Naps - Richie Tozier

word count: 1911 warnings: swearing, mentions of weed (?) summary: pretty much the request :)) request: can you write something for richie? reader and him end up falling asleep in the clubhouse and the losers wake them up (a/n) this one’s dedicated to my wife who needed some romantic pining :3

___

“Come lay with me,” Richie called out, making grabby hands towards (y/n).

She looked up from where she was sitting in her bean bag chair, reading one of his comic books. She pulled a face, because Richie was laying in the hammock, and he’d proven before that two people did not fit, when Eddie had forced himself into the hanging swing.

“Come on” The boy whined again, his arms hanging off the side dramatically.

(y/n) raised her brows, not out of surprise, he was always dramatic, but it was still entertaining to watch him pout like a child.

“It’ll break” She told him, and looked back down at her comic.

“No it won’t” Richie argued back hopefully.

“One of us will fall out- or we both will” She answered, still reading.

“You won’t fall out!” Richie pleaded. “It’ll be fine, please?”

Her eyes flickered up to his, and when he gave her that big stupid cheesy grin, she knew she was done for.

“I need attention” He added in a whine.

“You always need attention” (y/n) sighed.

She marked her spot in the comic as she stood up, and made her way towards him.

“And you always give in!” Richie told her- like she didn’t already know- and wrapped his arms around her as she carefully crawled into the hammock with him.

She tried to be slow in her movements, but Richie didn’t care if they flipped the swing, so he pulled her the rest of the way until she tripped and fell into him.

“Richie!” She tried to scold him, but she was laughing too much to really be convincing. “You could’ve flipped the whole thing over”

“Nah, calm down babe,” He shrugged while she got situated. “Here, I’ll keep it steady”

Richie stuck a leg out of the swing, and since the boy was a tree, it wasn't difficult for him to keep one foot on the ground, so they would stop swinging back and forth.

(y/n) cuddled up against Richie’s side, even though she was already half on top of him, since the hammock was so small. Neither of them would admit, but they didn’t mind anyways.

“Better?” She asked, laying her head on his chest and opening up -her- his comic book again.

He grinned at her.

“Much” He says, wrapping his arms around her waist, holding her close while she started to read.

He could’ve fallen asleep right then and there, but he wanted to enjoy his time with her. So he squeezed her tighter and buried his face into her hair.

“That tickles,” (y/n) giggles, her shoulders flinching while Richie only buried his face further. She squealed when his nose grazed over her neck. “Richie! Cut it out!” She said between giggles, until eventually she dropped the comic book to the ground, and flipped over onto her stomach so she could lift her head away from his face.

“We don’t hang out enough” Richie declared, and the sudden change in mood made her brows furrow.

She stared down at him, an almost worried expression on her face. Had she been a bad friend? Had she not reached out enough? Sure the whole gang hangs out plenty, but did she not do a good enough job creating special relationships with each of her friends individually?

“I’m sorry,” The words slipped out rather awkwardly, but she didn’t take it back. “We should hang out more, but you know Beverly always wants to go to like the mall or something-”

“We can just do this,” Richie said, pulling her back down. She was laying on top of him now, but again, neither cared. “Just lots and lots of this”

She grins, shaking her head at him, but she was still smiling.

“I guess I’m okay with that” She mumbled, before laying down against him again.

Her legs tangled between his, and she threw her arm across his torso.

“You guess?” Richie teased, and she chuckled against his neck.

“You’re actually pretty comfortable,” She hummed, starting to feel sleepy as the soft material of his tee shirt caressed over her cheek. “Even though you’re a skinny ass tree”

When she let out a yawn, Richie grinned at her, even though her eyes had fallen shut.

“You gonna fall asleep?”

“Play with my hair a little and you bet” She joked, peeking an eye open at him for a second, just so she could stick her tongue out.

“You got it” Richie replied, and before she could laugh it off, his hand was in her hair, combing through gently.

She giggled, looking up at him with a dopey smile that she couldn’t bite back if she tried.

“You’re so dumb,” She teased affectionately. “The dumbest, really”

There’s a blush on her cheeks that Richie doesn’t miss, because the proximity between their faces is so small it’s almost nonexistent. If he didn’t know better, he would kiss her right now.

He wondered briefly if he did know better, though.

He knew he should say something, because he’s just staring at her like a love-struck idiot -which he was- and it’d been so long now he was blushing too.

(y/n’s) eyes wandered down to his lips, and paused for a moment, staring just long enough for Richie to notice, and for his cheeks to darken to a red.

A beam stretched across her lips when she saw this, and her eyes flickered back up to his.

“You’re blushing” She whispers, and she pokes his nose and then his cheek.

“Yeah well you’re starin’ at me” Richie retorted.

(y/n) quirked an eyebrow.

“And that makes you blush like that?” She asks, her grin turning into a sly sort of smirk.

“You’re frightening, babe”

He was murmuring, and something about the drop in his voice when he used the cute little nickname made her heart skip a beat. Maybe even two beats.

“I’m frightening?” She asked, confused as to what part of her made him nervous.

Richie chuckled, his hand still petting her hair comfortingly.

“Hell yeah” He said, and her brows furrowed.

“What about me scares you?” She asked. “I think I’ve always been nice to you?”

“You have,” He told her. “But unfortunately you’re really pretty, so it doesn’t matter”

Both of her eyebrows raised out of surprise, and Richie only grinned back at her.

“And- and that scares you?” She asks, and she tries to get the feeling to go away, but her cheeks feel hot again, and they must match the same rosey shade on Richie’s face.

“Well, it’s certainly intimidating,” He said, shrugging his shoulder nonchalantly. Her head moved with it, and she giggled at the action. “You’re a frightening, intimidating, pretty girl”

She giggles again, because it’s the weirdest and cheesiest thing she’s ever heard.

“I didn’t know you thought that,” She mumbled, her eyes drooping a bit as she spoke. “You’re not actually like… scared of me, are you?”

“No, not completely, I mean, Stan is way scarier than you are, so there’s that”

She laughs and so does he, and the hammock swings them a bit from the commotion. But Richie places his foot on the ground and steadies them again.

“For what it’s worth,” (y/n) whispers, before yawning, and tucking her head against the crook of his neck. “You’re pretty too”

“Thank you, babe” Richie chuckles, twirling a strand of her hair around his finger.

(y/n) hums, and her nose pressed into his neck as she readjusts her head to be more comfortable, and Richie squirmed a bit from the sensation, despite trying not to.

“You’re welcome, Rich” She murmured, quietly, and slowly.

He realized then that she was going to fall asleep on him, and was making no effort to try and stop it. Then again, he didn’t make any effort either.

So he wrapped his arms around her snugly, and rested his cheek against the top of her head and closed his own eyes.

“You fallin’ asleep on me?” (y/n) asked, words a bit slurred, and muffled.

“No, you’re falling asleep on me” Richie corrected.

“I already told you that you’re comfortable,” She argued back. “But if you don’t want to nap with me, you’re free to leave the hammock Tozier”

He chuckled, and couldn’t help but press a little kiss into her hair. So small and quick she probably wouldn’t even notice.

She did.

“I’ll nap with you” He told her, and she smiled.

She doesn’t say anything, but her hand falls from where it had been lying on his hip. She reaches tentatively for his free hand- the one that isn’t tangled in her hair- and ever so carefully slips her fingers into his palm, before slotting in between his.

Richie doesn’t dare move a muscle, until her fingers are perfectly intertwined with his, and then he carefully clasps her hand in his own.

His heart is beating so fast that he’s sure she hears it, or feels it against her cheek, but he doesn’t really care.

She’s holding his fucking hand how could he care-

“Richie,” (y/n) whispers, voice barely audible. “Your heart’s beatin’ real fast”

“Sorry” He apologizes impulsively, but she chuckles sleepily.

“It’s okay,” She mumbles. “It’s cute”

It’s the last thing she says before she falls asleep, and he can tell because her hand relaxes a bit, and her breathing evens out. Richie doesn’t fall asleep himself for a couple more minutes, enjoying this moment way too much.

But eventually his body gives in and his eyes get heavy and he passes out with her, in what they would later describe as the best nap they’ve ever taken. ___

“What the fuck?”

“Sh-should we w-wake them u-up?”

“Are they… together?”

“Oh my fucking god- holy fucking shit- did they hook up?”

“Don’t be stupid, they couldn’t have hooked up in the hammock”

“Well, they could have done it all over and then fallen asleep in the hammock”

“Oh my fucking god. I’m gonna throw up. Yeah- yeah, I’m about to barf-”

“Shut up dumbass you’ll wake them up”

The rest of the Loser’s Club had made plans to hang out at the clubhouse, smoke a little weed, play dumb games, the usual. They’d tried calling (y/n) and Richie, but neither had picked the phone, so everyone got together anyways.

It made for quite the surprise when they got to the clubhouse, only to find their missing friends cuddled up in the hammock.

“Do you think Richie confessed?” Beverly whispered to her friends, lighting a cigarette and smirking at the sleeping pair.

“Doubt it” Stan muttered.

“They’re holding hands though,” Ben pointed out. “That doesn’t just happen in your sleep”

“(y/n’s) a-affectionate,” Bill shrugged. “Sh-she p-probably j-just-”

“Can we wake them up now?” Eddie cut him off. “I don’t wanna look at them anymore”

“You’re just jealous” Mike said, and Eddie stuck his tongue out defensively.

“We’ll just smoke outside,” Beverly declared. “We’ll let them sleep, and when they wake up, they can come up and join us”

“They’re gonna have to talk when they wake up anyways,” Ben said, heading back to the ladder. “You know, about their feelings-”

“Disgusting,” Eddie shoved Ben’s back. “Go faster”

“Jealous” Everyone said in unison.

It only took about twenty minutes before (y/n) and Richie awoke from their slumber. And the Losers definitely eavesdropped from the open hatch while they talked through their feelings for one another.

___

taglist: @fiantomartell @lemonypink @darling-egg

xoxo ~ jordie

#it 2017 #it 2019 #richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier imagine #richie tozier scenario #richie tozier fanfiction #finn wolfhard

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asteriismos · 4 years ago

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gold dust woman - richie tozier

warning(s) : smut, eighteen! losers, loss of virginity, masterbation, probably more

words : 3.3k

summary : innocent reader asks richie tozier for help

your mother always told you that a good woman was a traditional woman.

a woman who crosses her legs when sitting, doesn't swear, says ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. your mom was a housewife, no job only to take care of the kids and the house. and her mother before that was the same, but the times were changing, it was easy to see that. girls went to school just as long as guys did and they were allowed to participate in sports. they would go to college and learn and support themselves if that’s what they wanted. no matter how many times you tried to tell your mom this, she would dismiss you and tell you that it was her house, her rules.

you had lived in derry your entire life, making friends with the stanley uris in your ‘accelerated’ math class in sixth grade. stanley introduced you to bill and eddie, who introduced you to richie tozier.

you were always fascinated by richie tozier. he wasn’t afraid of saying the wrong thing and if he did, he didn’t care. he was a loudmouth and swore whenever he wanted to. you knew that it was wrong for you to want to do those things, because that’s what your mother always said. she didn’t like that you hung out with mainly boys because she said that always led to trouble, she said that they would take advantage of you. but the losers were just your friends, they made you laugh and smile.

that was your first act of rebellion against your mother. even just at eleven years old.

as you grew older, you stayed by your friends side. you sympathized with eddie because both of you had overbearing mothers, who surprisingly became friends after meeting in the supermarket one day. freshman year rolled along and you were exposed to the wonders of teenage life. you could remember the first time that richie brought weed to one of the losers hangouts and you were the only one who didn’t try it. because you were just like that. no one pressured you, but richie did his fair share of teasing. you didn’t drink either, even if it was just a glass of wine that beverly would have when you came over to her house when her dad wasn’t there.

you were convinced that if you tried those things once, your mother would know. she would find out and then you would be locked in your house until you were twenty five.

it wasn’t until junior year of high school that you rebelled against your mother again, which was having a crush on a boy that she didn’t approve of. she was always trying to get you to go on dates with boys from the catholic school in bangor that she sometimes volunteered at. you didn’t like any of them. you liked the one boy that she despised : richie. your mother hated him, he was everything that she disliked in a boy and that made him that much more hotter to you.

richie knew that you liked him. it really wasn’t that hard to tell. the way that you would giggle after he made a joke, or how your eyes would always meet his first if the group went swimming. he wanted you, he wanted you a whole lot but as far as he knew, he couldn’t have you. because he didn’t want to ruin your innocence. richie loved you for who you were, and he didn’t want to be the catalyst for the impending rebellion you would have for rebelling against your mother.

you were like a delicate flower, and richie knew that if he had you in the palm of his hands for even a second, you would be crushed.

that didn’t mean that he couldn’t fantasize though. there have been multiple times where he would look at your legs that you showed while wearing a skirt and he would think about running his hands along them, hearing those breathless moans coming from your lips.

you didn't know how to flirt properly, it always ended with red cheeks and embarrassed smiles cast his way. you felt a little helpless, not knowing how to get rid of the ache you had for richie. you confided in stanley about it and he told you that richie was interested in you and just that made you feel bashful. you didn’t know what to do to get him, it was all confusing.

then you devised a plan with beverly to finally get him. it was naughty and felt so wrong, but beverly understood. she had seen the unrequited feelings from both of you for too long. she was the one who took you to the doctor to get birth control pills when your period cramps were too hard to control and your mother said you just had to deal with it. she was the one who basically told you what sex was.

since you got older, your mother has gotten used to letting you stay home alone. and you knew from endless amounts of snooping that she was seeing some other man, which made sense considering she had been alone for so long since your dad died when you were little. she left you home alone for nights, always friday nights and she would come back saturday night.

you had invited richie over earlier that day at school. you were so nervous for this encounter that you couldn’t think about anything else. all you did was pace back and forth up and down the stairs of your house and in and out every single room. you did this for at least a half and hour before the doorbell rang and you felt your stomach drop.

putting a smile on your face, you opened the door to be met with richie. he was wearing one of his old band tees and black jeans, hands fiddling anxiously with the hem of his shirt. “hey, rich,” you greeted, motioning for him to come into the house. you felt him take a look in and search around. “don’t worry. my moms gone for the night.” you laughed, thinking back to the last time her and richie encountered each other. it was a lot of yelling from your mothers end and a lot of ‘what the hell did I do’s’ from richie.

only your mother could get mad at a boy just breathing in your direction.

“good, I really wasn’t planning on dying today,” richie replied, taking a breath of relief and walking into your house. he took off his shoes and gave you a look, wondering why he was here with you alone. this has never happened before and it seemed so unlike you. his heart was practically beating out of his chest.

you looked at him. “well, don’t look too nervous. Jesus richie, you look like you’ve seen a ghost or something. come on, let’s go up to my room,” you said, leading him all the way up to your room. richie walked into your room first, back turned away from you.

your room was a mixture of pink and purple hues, it was probably the most innocent looking rooms that he has ever been in. it was so clean and it smelled like a mixture of lavender and vanilla, the smell that you always smelled like no matter the day. it was intoxicating, richie felt like he was on an endless high just from your presence. if only you knew the effect you had on him.

richie was still turned away from you, hearing the door close didn’t really mind to him. it was when he was admiring the bookshelf you had in the corner of the room when he heard the noise of something dropping to the floor that caught his attention. he turned around to be met with you shirtless, the only thing separating his eyes from your full chest was your pink frilly bra ( that you borrowed from bev, but he didn’t have to know that ). richie’s eyes widened and his first instinct was to look away because well . . . you’re y/n. he’s seen a multitude of girls naked but he didn’t feel the same way that he felt about them that he did with you.

you were the epitome of innocence and here you were, standing in just a bra and those short black shorts that you only wore to go swimming in the quarry.

“y/n. . .” richie said, trailing off with his words when you took a step towards you. your skin looked so vibrant and soft and all richie wanted to do was touch you. “what-what are you doing?”

you bit your lip, pushing those black shorts down your legs and stepping out of them. you were wearing your own pink undies, lace on the top of them with a little bow in the center right under your exposed stomach. you felt the cold air of your house on your skin and that only edged you on more, keeping your soft eyes on richie. “I don’t know what I'm doing. and college is going to be soon and I don’t want to be inexperienced,” you started. it was the only excuse that you could think of in the moment. “so I was wondering if you would teach me.”

richie’s brain felt like it was malfunctioning. his eyes raked over your body, taking in every curve of it and cataloging it for later. you were so beautiful, richie knew that he was absolutely fucked.

the need was growing too large for him to handle.

I was wondering if you could teach me. you could teach me. teach me.

teach me.

“are you sure?” richie asked you, walking forward until he was only an inch away from you. his hand reached up and pushed your hair behind your ear, making you shiver at the feeling. his fingers came to your shoulder, fiddling with your bra strap. his touches were so light but you felt like you were on fire.

you nodded, standing on your tippy toes and kissing him. you held him by the back of his neck and leaned your body all the way into his. he tasted like cigarettes and cherries from his lunch earlier, it was intoxicating and you knew you could spend a lifetime just kissing him. but the desire burning in the pit of your stomach wasn’t going to hold back much longer. you didn’t know what you were doing or if you were even doing it correctly.

richie pulled away from you, deciding that you kissing him was his open invitation to ravish you. his hands were strong as they reached for your exposed sides and pushed you towards the bed, going to the small of your back to help you down onto the soft pink fabric. he stayed at the edge, looking at your body and then saying, “do you touch yourself?”

your cheeks burned red for the first time since richie had been in your room. he was asking such a personal question to you and you knew that he wouldn’t let you brush off the question. you were embarrassed to tell him that you did in fact touch yourself and when you were really getting into it, you imagined that it was his fingers instead of your own. it was always late at night because your mother would kill you if she saw you or heard your soft moans that you did into a pillow stuffed in your face.

“yes.”

it was a soft yes and richie wasn’t even sure if you really said anything or it was just his imagination taking over. the mere thought of you sitting in this pink bed with those frilly underpants getting off with just your hand was making him go crazy. richie gave you a cocky grin, “show me then.”

you were confused at what he was asking, until it dawned on you that he wanted to watch you touch yourself in front of him. if you weren’t blushing all the way before, you surely were now. his eyes never left you, he didn’t laugh after saying it. he was serious. there was lust in his eyes.

in a surge of confidence, you leaned yourself against your headboard and slowly spread your legs, exposing yourself to him. you saw him breath in and out, eyes trailing down to your heat. your hands came up to your breasts, giving them a squeeze and whining out. you let one stay there while the other trailed down your stomach, fingertips just dancing along the skin. you allowed for that hand to dip under your pink panties and touch your clit, making you gasp. your eyes screwed shut, massaging figure eights on yourself.

you felt hands on your hipbones and you snapped your eyes open, seeing richie lean over you. his fingers hooked under your panties and pulled them off of you, leaving your bottom half fully exposed to him. you continued to rub at your clit while he said, “I had to get those out of the way to see you, pretty girl.”

those words edged you on, bringing your fingers lower down to tease at your entrance. in one swift movement you were plunging two fingers into you, already slick with your wetness when you pulled them out and repeated the action. you took a peek at richie and saw that his mouth was open, palming himself through his pants. fuck, he’s so hot. you must be doing something right if you got him this worked up.

your thumb pressed against your folds while you pumped in slowly, moaning loudly now that your mom wasn’t there to catch you. if you closed your eyes you could almost imagine that it was richie doing it, though him watching you was becoming one of the best things that’s ever happened to you.

“richie,” you moaned out, looking at him. “please.” you kept pushing in and out while your hips rolled against your hand. you didn’t have to beg too much, because he was pulling off his shirt and undoing his belt and pushing his pants down at lighting speed. you could see his hard on right through his grey boxers, making that pit in your stomach get wider. the sheer fact that he wanted you made you go crazy.

richie got on the bed, the motion of the bed dipping with his weight made you all too aware of what was about to come. his hand was swatting yours away from your entrance and he replaced it with his own, making you hiss out in pleasure at the two fingers that ran down your clit, then trailed down and plunged into you. his fingers were much bigger than your own, making your walls clenching around them that much more enjoyable.

you were moaning his name and richie swore he could listen to that on repeat and he’d never get tired of it. his hand pulled away from yours and you watched as he pushed his boxers down off of him, grabbing himself and giving it a good few pumps. you gave him a look and tentatively grabbed his dick, repeating the motion that he had. your hands were so soft, so much better than his own that richie couldn’t control the low guttural moan that left him. your stomach was doing flips, licking your lips and waiting for him.

“I don’t have a condom on me, y/n,” richie muttered, realizing that you two were fucked. if he knew that he would be fucking you today, he would’ve come a little bit more prepared.

you grabbed him and kissed him again, pulling away and leaning your forehead against his own. “I'm on the pill, it’s okay,” you whispered, giving him an anxious smile. “bev went with me to get it a few months ago.” richie laughed, realizing that bev was more of a mother to you than your actual mother was. he nodded, taking a large breath.

you unclipped your bra, throwing it across the room and laying on your back, waiting for him to do something, anything. you were so wet at this point at the thought of finally having sex with richie. your mother always virginity this really big thing, and to you it was. but you didn’t want to wait until marriage, you wanted richie and you wanted him now.

richie aligned yourself with your entrance, pressing the tip just in a little bit and capturing you in a kiss as he pushed all the way in. his kisses helped soothe you through the feeling of him stretching you out. he was thick and tears welled up in your eyes at the pinging pain. he stalled in you for just a moment to let you adjust, then moved out and pushed in again. he felt like he was in heaven, you were the tightest thing that he had ever experienced and it took all in him not to just start fucking you as roughly as he could.

“fuck, you’re so perfect,” richie spoke, pressing a kiss to your cheek and burying his face into the crook of your neck. your hands held his shoulders, squeezing them every once in a while when he hit just the right spot in you. at this point the pain was gone and it was replaced with earth shattering pleasure that you knew you’d never get tired of. his words brought heat to your cheeks, along with the dirty words that he whispered into your ear with every rut of his hips.

your legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his lower back to keep him as close to you as you could. the pit in your stomach was growing from where it left off from richie’s and your own fingers, you knew you weren’t going to last long. a part of you felt embarrassed that you weren’t. then you remembered that you were with richie, someone who wouldn’t judge you for something like that. you trusted him, and felt safe in his arms.

your moans became more high pitched and richie knew you were close, he pushed your legs up by their thighs and hit a different, deeper angle. a few thrusts later you were cumming in his arms, heaving in and out with your heart pounding against your ribcage uncontrollably.

you mewled out as richie still rutted his hips against yours, the lewd sound making your face scrunch up. you rolled your hips in the motion of his and he moaned out, and when you did it again he was cumming inside you. you felt the hot liquid spurt and spread within you and the feeling made you make a small noise. once richie was done, he pulled out of you and watched as it spilled out of you. he felt dirty, fucking you in your pink frilly bed in the room with the scented candles. he loved it, however dirty it was.

and you felt like you had rebelled against your mother in the crudest way you could, and got satisfied beyond belief by it.

richie moved to get off the bed and you grabbed him by his wrist. “don’t go, please?”

he laughed, leaning and kissing your hipbone. “I wouldn’t in a heartbeat sugar, I just have to get something to clean you off.”

he moved all the way off and left the room towards the bathroom, and when he returned he wiped a towel in between your legs. you squirmed a little bit, still a little sensitive. while he was standing, he pulled his boxers up and got back on the bed with you. his arms wrapped around your body, snuggling into your side.

a few minutes rolled by and richie looked to see your face as he asked, “why did you let me do it? I mean, instead of one of the other’s?”

“I like you richie,” you admitted. “I think that’s a little obvious.”

richie gave you a big toothy grin, shaking his head with a laugh. he didn’t even have to speak for you to know that he liked you too. he was finally yours, regardless of what anyone or your mother thought.

yours.

#richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier imagine #richie tozier smut #eddie kaspbrak #bill denbrough #mike hanlon #stanley uris #ben hanscom #beverly marsh #it #IT movie #it movie imagine #it movie 2017 #it movie x reader #it movie 2019

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stenbrozier · 5 years ago

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Clingy (Adult!Stanley Uris x Reader)

Plot: The Urises have always been known as the “snuggly couple” among their friends, especially as they got older. Stanley and (Y/N) are going to meet the Losers for lunch, and Stanley wants nothing more then to hold his wife and show her off the whole time.

Warnings: mentions of trying to have a kid, canon!Reddie

A/N: I was dropping anons about how lovely Stanley Uris was and how cuddly he was and now I’m here....writing a story about this dumb bitch with curly hair

——————————————————————————

Stanley moans slightly in his sleep, turning over in your arms to lay his head against your chest, his arms securing tight around your waist. He left a soft kiss right underneath the left side of your collarbone and smiled against it. You brought your hands up to run through his hair, the soft curls tickling your neck as you messed with them.

Your legs were tangled together between the grey sheets, one of your legs slotted in between his with the other slung over his hip. The sunlight from your bedroom window peeled through the blinds, making lines of light and dark drape over the big, dark red comforter that you and your husband were snuggled underneath. His hands tapped the small of your back, his nails rubbing lightly up and down before squeezing your ass and causing you to jump. He looked up at you, kissing along your jaw as he worked his way up to put his forehead against yours, and you giggled as he pressed little kisses to your nose.

“Baby, we should get ready,” you whispered softly, peeking at the alarm clock next to your bed. “We need to meet them for our weekly lunch date in a couple of hours.” Stanley groaned, squeezing you tight for a few seconds before pulling away and stretching out his arms and his legs. You sat up first, scooting to the edge of the bed to get ready to get up and get dressed. Your foot felt something soft underneath you, and you looked down to see you and Stan’s pitbull, Blue, sitting curled up in on herself. Stanley got off of the other side of the bed, coming around to pick up Blue and snuggle her, the 60 pound dog wagging its tail as she enjoyed the attention she was being given so early in the morning.

“Move, bub,” you chuckled, as he held Blue closer to his chest and leant down and gave you a kiss. “Can you go make some coffee?” You put on your best puppy dog eyes and he complied, heading out your bedroom door with the dog still wrapped in his arm. You grabbed clothes out of your drawers, pulling out a pair of shorts and one of Stanley’s shirts. You threw them on, brushing your hair down and going into the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face. After you did that, you went down the stairs and heard Stan laughing.

“Fuck off, Rich,” he said midlaugh, a huge smile on his face as he saw you standing in the doorway. “I-I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you at 1.” He hung up the phone and sat it on the counter, grabbing the mugs off of it and dragging you down to the kitchen table. He sat down first, grabbing your waist loosely and dragging you into his lap. You smiled as he nuzzled his face into your neck, leaving little kisses as you took a sip of your coffee.

“Clingy, clingy,” you teased as he laughed, his hands fisting the shirt you wore.

“This is mine,” he mentioned matter-of-factly. You nodded, taking another sip of your coffee and setting the mug down before standing up and walking to give Blue her breakfast.

“Who’s house are we having lunch at this week,” you asked your husband, getting down on your knees to pull out the bag of dog food from underneath the counter. You poured some in her bowl, kissing her forehead when she ran over to eat it. When you put it back, you stood up only to have arms get wrapped around your waist.

“I believe we’re going to Ben and Bev’s,” he whispered, taking in a deep breath as he rubbed your stomach with his thumbs. “I guess I have to go start to get ready.” Stanley kiss your neck, pulling back and walking away, up the steps and into the bedroom. You sat at the table and finished up your coffee, heating the shower turning on. You showered at night and he showered in the morning, so there was never any conflict in the mornings when you both had work.

You washed your coffee mug out in the sink, going back up into your bedroom to grab your phone and the book you were reading. When you walked in, Stan was clad in a pair of jeans, drying his hair with the towel. He turned around and smiled at you when you made a big show of checking him out. You went to your bedside table and grabbed your things, standing on your tippy toes and kissing him on the cheek. You waited for him to finish getting ready, leaning against the doorframe and going through your texts. Stanley’s arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you against him as he walked with you down the steps. You both sat on the couch, and you leaned against him, taking your book and reading to him until it was time to go visit the Losers

———————

Ben swung the door open, engulfing you in a hug as Stanley laughed lightly, placing a hand on the small of your back to squeeze by you. You and Ben had been best friends while growing up, and it was no secret that you gravitated to him. Everyone thought you and him were going to end up together, and the group was pleasantly surprised when you and Stan announced that you guys were dating in your senior year. Ben kissed your forehead and pulled away, leading you inside and shutting the door.

“How’s the whole ‘trying to get pregnant thing’ going?” Ben asked in a hushed voice. You shrugged your shoulders, following him into his dining room.

“Nothing yet, but we’re hoping that I miss my period,” you replied back, giving him a soft smile as he kissed your forehead again.

“Holy shit!! Two Urises,” Richie yelled, breaking away from Stan to come and wrap you up in a tight hug.

He’d been away for the past few months on tour, so he hadn’t been able to come to try weekly luncheons. You pulled away from him, patting his chest and going to say ‘hi’ to all of your either childhood friends and their spouses. Bev wrapped you up in her arms, whispering in your ear the same question Ben had asked you. You shook your head as you pulled away, going back to where your husband was now sitting at the table. Stan immediately grabbed your hand, peppering it with kisses and you smirked.

“God, I was gone for two minutes,” you teased, causing his cheeks to dust a raspberry pink. “Can’t keep your hands off of me, can you?” You noticed that you had caught the attention of Bill, who smiled at the two of you smiling at each other and looking deep into the other’s eyes.

“C-can you guys not be cute for one minute?” he asked with a fake disgusted look on his face. “You’re even wearing his c-college tee.”

Now it was your turn to blush red, eyes casting down to yours and Stan’s intertwined hands. The rest of the Losers laughed at your embarrassment before Eddie finally spoke up.

“They’re more clingy than they were in high school,” he mentions, twisting his nose up in disgust. You throw him the middle finger.

“At least I’ve been in a loving relationship for twenty years and wasn’t afraid to admit feelings.” Richie laughs at this, looking over at Eddie and nudging his side before kissing his cheek.

You leaned over and kissed your husband’s cheek, the attention shifting from you both to how Mike’s month long stint in Florida had been. Stanley removed his hand from yours, wrapping that arm around your shoulder and taking his other hand to softly stroke the hand which he had let go of. You looked over at him, snuggling into his chest. Maybe you guys were too clingy, but you’d rather have him touch you constantly than not at all.

#stanley uris smut #stanley uris x reader #stanley uris #stanley uris headcanons #bill denbrough x reader #richie tozier x reader #eddie kaspbrak x reader #beverly marsh x reader #ben hanscom x reader #mike hanlon x reader #it chapter one imagines #it chapter two imagines #masterlist

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ames-69 · 5 years ago

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Maggie tozier was ecstatic when her 4 year old Richie came home from his first day of kindergarten absolutely gushing about his new friend. Richie had struggled to make friends in the multiple mommy-and-toddler classes that Maggie had enrolled them in, and even while playing in the park seemed to be on his own. But he seemed content with it so Maggie and her husband Wentworth let him be, just hoping he would finally make a few friends in kindergarten, which he did.

Over the next while she learned a lot about his friend, she now knew was called eddie, but Richie seemed to prefer to call him ‘eds’. He had “ass ma” and had to carry around a special blue thingy to help him breath richie told her solemnly. In fact, eddie carried around a lot of things, according to Richie. He had a little bag he wore around his waist, which he never took of - not even at nap time, much to his teachers annoyance. Eddie alway washed his hands before eating or after playing outside and always made sure Richie did the same. At least Maggie know knew her son was at least slightly hygienic. But eddie was as adventurous as he was careful. The boy had been at the toziers house enough times now for Maggie to see his craziness along with their other friends, bill denbrough and Stanley uris - both of them were good friends of richies, but not as good as eddie. Maggie once wondered to herself if eddie had so much energy because he didn’t get to act like this at home. She had met Sonia kaspbrak and quite frankly did not like her. That was the day she swore to herself eddie was always welcome at her home.

The four liked to play pretend games. One of their favourites was ‘the clown game’ were there was an evil clown they had to kill. Maggie wasn’t sure where they came up with this stuff, but it was amusing to watch them shoot at the thin air with their imaginary guns nonetheless. Once or twice richie had told Maggie he was gonna marry his eds one day. Maggie just smiled and nodded and said “I’m sure you will sweetie.” Maybe that was when she knew.

By the time the boys were in sixth grade, eddie had spent more time at the toziers house than Maggie could count. At least twice a week he stayed for dinner and by this stage had his own make shift bed on richies floor - if Maggie noticed it looked like it hadn’t been slept in some nights, she didn’t say anything. But she didn’t mind, she adored the boy, he was always welcome at the toziers and he knew it. He was good for her son.

Richie had always been witty, with his attempts at accents and whimsical remarks. He teased his friends often, including his new friends, Ben and Beverly who he’d met over the summer of ‘89. (Maggie at first was worried about Richie hanging around a girl but soon realised that she really was just a friend and relaxed, happy he was indeed making new friends.) He teased them all, but not as much as he did eddie. And the way he teased Eddie was different, but in a kind of good way that was hard to put into words. Maggie could tell there was no malice in her sons words and actions. Toward any of them for that matter. The pair had also become alot more physically affectionate, though then again, they always had been. As kids they often held hands and hugged. One was never seen with out the other. Oh, the tantrums Maggie dealt with when it was home time. Now they did that along with cuddling during movie nights and eddie always tucked away under Richie’s gangly arms. Maybe that was when she knew.

When they were 15, richie asked could he go to his first school dance. Maggie was fearful at first, fearful that her little baby was growing up, but he reassured her he was only going because “eddie w- everybody else wants to” Maggie struggled to fight of the smile that was trying to creep onto her face. So she told him yes, he could go.

She tried to argue with him to get a tux, but he refused, instead opting to wear his black Sunday slacks and a tee shirts with a tie printed on it much to Maggies dismay.

Richie and his friends had made plans to meet up at the toziers house at 6pm on the night of the dance as it was closest to the school, but when Maggie heard a knock on the front door at 5pm, she wasn’t surprised.

“Hello, eddie dear” she greeted as she let the small boy inside.

“Hi, mrs. T” He had always refused to call her anything else, even though she had insisted years ago they all call her Maggie. She found it cute.

Eddie was wearing a light blue suit, similar to the one richie wore to stans bar mitzvah. She didn’t miss the way richie stared at him a little too long, the same look wentworth had when he looked at her in his eyes. The two boys soon disappeared up the stairs to most likely read comics. At 6pm, the others began arriving. A new face had joined the little gang a couple years ago. Mike Hanlon. He was a nice kid, just like all richies friends. After a couple - well more than a couple - photos, the clique hopped on their bikes that had been tossed aside on the toziers lawn and began cycling towards the school. Maggie smiled at the kind of dead looking flower she recognised from the neighbouring garden in eddies breast pocket that definitely hadn’t been there was he arrived an hour before. Maybe that was when she knew.

When richie was 17, Maggie tozier walked into her sons room to see him curled in a ball in the middle of his bed. Occasionally he let out little whimpers and curled up tighter. If Maggie tozier hadn’t known heartbreak before, she knew it now. He looked so small and helpless, she wanted nothing more than to take all of her sons pain away. That was what a mother was meant to do, right? She had a sinking feeling she already knew what this was about. Richie hadn’t mentioned eddie in a couple days and eddie hadn’t visited in over a week now, and this was highly unusual. The last time this happened they were 12 and had fought over something small and unimportant that Maggie couldn’t recall now. But even that hadn’t lasted this long. Silently, Maggie walked over to the bed and sat down, placing a loving hand on her sons back and gently began rubbing it. “It’s okay” she cooed over and over, eventually calming him enough for him to tell her what was wrong.

“We.. we had a fight..” he sniffed. Maggie just nodded and began petting his head which was now laying in her lap. She didn’t need to ask who he was referring to.

“He told me that.. that he liked m-me as more than a.. a friend and i j-just sorta looked at him.. then.. then ran a-away” and with that he dissolved into tears again. Now Maggie spoke, her voice quite and caring.

“You don’t need to be scared rich, if that’s what’s wrong. Ive always known, and I’ve always loved you - and him.” She looked down at him, but he was staring at the dresser in front of him. She continued. “Right from yous were kids, I’ve always known yous would end up together. You know, you told me you were gonna marry him one day. And by god richie, i hope you do. That boys the best damn thing to happen to you. Now please, go get him. I cant stand seeing you like this. And I’m sure he’s just as broken.”

Richie finally sat up. He eyeballed her for a couple seconds. “Really?” His voice was so fragile. Maggie had never in his seventeen years of life seen him like this. It killed her.

“Really” she assured him. “Yous are made for each other”

He smiled before quickly springing off of his bed and into the bathroom. Maggie heard the water run as he washed his face. She fixed the bed and laid out a fresh hoodie and jeans for him, then hastily ran to her and Went’s room. She riffled through her bag and eventually found her car keys, then went to wait in the living room. About 10 minutes later richie arrived down stairs. His eyes were still red and puffy and his hair was messy, but the shine in his eyes and returned and Maggie smiled. He went to go out the back to retrieve his bike, but she stopped him.

“Take the car” she said simply and handed him the keys. He smiled widely at her, before she shooed him out with a final “go get him.” If she didn’t know before, she knew now.

#reddie oneshot #reddie headcannon #reddie #eddie x richie #beep beep richie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #stanley uris #bill denbrough #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #mike hanlon #pennywise #it 2019 #it 2017 #reddie fic

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staarblaster · 4 years ago

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The Mystery at the edge of the Universe

“So we drove on toward death through the cooling twilight.”- F. Scott Fitzgerald

Chapter One

It was a warm Autumn night and the smell of stale cigarette smoke lingered in the air but by the light of a lamp, one student was still awake. A leather-bound book on his desk, filled with scrawled entries, he needed to calm down. He couldn’t prove what he was thinking so why was he so concerned? But yet everything was telling him he should be.

She would tell him that he shouldn’t be this stressed, but no offense to her. She didn’t know what he had found to make him this stressed, but he hated hiding things, but if he was right, he did not want to be right. It was just an old school legend, right?

He sighed, his eyes darting over to the dark blue paper that was tucked underneath his leather journal. The school’s crest, an N and a W intersecting in unison, and smiled softly moving his pen to the first prompt. He had scribbled some ideas down for all three but the first one, the first one interested him.

Neverwinter Academy’s Practice Debate Topics

[X] Do personal demons lead to growth or can you make your growth?

[] Are private schools better than public schools?

[] Is the LGBT community forced upon our children?

He paused, scanning the brief three prompts he had chosen the first one in terms of a challenge for tryouts. The margins of the blue paper that advertised the event. He and Lucretia would have to talk about a strategy, while they were both co-captains they were also the star debaters of their school. But what would she say if he was investigating some pointless story? He sighed getting up from his seat. His legs, not quite asleep, gave some resistance but he casually began walking close towards his closet. He stared for a moment looking into the closet, not too surprised by its contents, white-collared shirts, several pairs of denim jeans, and tucked away was his jersey from last season embossed on the right side underneath a small pocket, his nickname in silver embroidery floss B.Bluejeans. Leave it to Magnus to give him the most memorable nickname freshman year and have it catch on like wildfire.

The school’s mascot, an owl embroidered on the sleeves. He sighed again, what was he doing? A drive would steady his nerves, probably.

Before he left, he made sure to put on the varsity jacket, and made sure that he had his keys. The Camaro he owned was a decent one, vintage his father Gregor would say in an all too familiar overly enthusiastic voice, but as he exited his dorm grabbing the leatherbound book, for right now he didn’t want this book behind.

Not until he at least talked to someone about his theory even if it did sound preposterous, he entered his Camaro and proceeded to drive off the campus, he knew it was past curfew, but he would be back soon.

----

For an Autumn night, she never expected it to be so cold, well to be fair she was soaking wet.

Her blonde hair soaking wet, a leather jacket, semi-stiff because of the water that seeped into it, a band tee sticking to her chest. But the worst was her combat boots sloshing and filled with water, and her socks were soaked.

Gods this was uncomfortable, that was the last time she was going to go to a party (she would say for now) even if it was a nice distraction from her latest string of foster homes.

But right now, she was slightly buzzed and walking down the familiar streets. She could hear the wind up against her back. Fuck it was only going the night had to get worse huh?

She ran a hand through her hair,

“Okay, Lup... you’ve been in worse scrapes. Remember the Hammerheads... you can call Hurley and Sloane and the- ”

She started the statement and pulled out her phone. Waterlogged. Fuck. She let out another sigh, okay, let’s think this through. She proceeded to walk across the street, not entirely paying attention you need to call someone, Hurley, Sloane, Carey... would Noelle be up? Probably. Could she guarantee that the weasel Lucas wouldn’t answer the phone? No, she couldn’t. But first, she would need to find a phone.

As luck would have it, illuminated by the streetlights was a payphone across the street. As she approached to cross the street, a car zipped past her, its windows partially rolled down,

“HEY WATCH IT!” she shouted angrily at the driver.

She sighed before her eyes widened, the car slowing down next to her. Great thinking Lup. Next time keep your mouth shut. She stared at the navy blue Camaro. It was a nice car what could she say. It was certainly nicer than most of the cars in Neverwinter Highschool’s parking lot. But she couldn’t shake the feeling there was something off.

The driver turned to look at her, Lup’s teeth still chattering. But he had kind eyes, shielded by his glasses, he was wearing a dark blue varsity jacket. His brown hair was a bit scattered, he looked even worse than her but something told her he didn’t drink tonight so what had him so frazzled?

“Shit, um... Did I hit you?” he even sounded dorky.

Lup shook her head, it wasn’t in a condescending way, but she wasn’t going to let him off the hook.

“I-I...d-don’t suppose you have a phone.”

Her teeth chattered as she enunciated each syllable.

Classy. She looked desperate. Pleading for this probable Richie Rich to be her knight in shining armor.

He took a moment pausing and a faint click was heard, unlocking the passenger side of the car.

“You should warm-up, and then you can use my phone. If that’s okay... you just looked really cold an- ”

Lup looked him over, she could trust him and his words seemed believable enough, plus his face was memorable enough that if he tried anything weird. She entered the car and gave him a curt smile.

“Lup.”

Her teeth chattering had slowed down a bit, and before he started the car again, he took off the varsity jacket extending it to her.

“I’m Barry...”

She paused, reading the name on the coat, as she took off her coat and put his on.

“Bluejeans?” she chuckled reading the silver writing on the coat.

He smiled, before watching her buckle her seatbelt and turning to focus on the road.

“It’s kinda a nickname... It’s kinda embarrassing” he chuckled

She rolled her eyes but smiled anyway, her eyes looking around the car, before looking at the glove compartment.

“So Bluejeans... what’s got you worried?”

He cocked his head to the side, his eyes were on the road but he noticed her going towards the glove compartment. Chances are if she read his journal, she’d think he was crazy.

“Worried? Did I seem that way?”

Lup gave him a seemingly sarcastic deadpan expression.

“I’ve seen calmer expressions on a tightrope walker.”

Barry sighed,

“You’d think I’m crazy...”

She looked at him, his kind eyes seemed serious,

“Try me..”

As Barry opened his mouth, a car engine revved behind them.

“I’m sorry what did you say?!”

Lup turned her head and noticed a set of headlights close behind them.

“Someone’s uh following us...”

Barry nodded,

“Hold on!”

---

He wouldn’t get away, not before they found out what he had written down in that journal. He had seen him scribbling away incessantly if he knew... no. Halwinter wasn’t that clever. Sure he had been aligned with some brilliant minds around the campus. But that journal, that journal had everything he needed to regain it. It wasn’t just a story. It was power, it could ascend them from what they were to what they could become.

They said a small prayer under their breath as they collided with the car. Then time stood still. The cars were damaged, and the sound of the collision caused their ears to ring. It was fine, a mild inconvenience yes, but worth the reward.

Would he be forgiven?

-----

Lup groaned, still being covered by the blue letterman coat, touched her head in confusion. She was bleeding? In her other hand, however, was a leather-bound book. But where was Barry?

#the adventure zone #taz fanfiction #tw: car accident #cliffhanger ending #dark academia? or at least trying #introduction #taz mystery #jane writes #eventual blupcretia #eventual taakitz #eventual magnulia #angst warning

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toyboy-molloy · 5 years ago

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reddie + strip poker (I have a limited understanding of poker, stay with me)

Richie Tozier had a plan and it was a fucking good plan, thank you very much! He was going to get Eddie Kaspbrak down to his underwear if it was the last thing he ever did and a group strip poker session was the perfect opportunity. Was is immoral? Perhaps but he wasn’t the only one with an ulterior motive. He was sure Beverly wouldn’t object to seeing Ben shirtless and Bill would certainly appreciate Mike showing off his toned body from years working on his grandfather’s farm. They were all horny, what about it? The only one actually wanting to play poker was poor Stanley, perhaps insisting they put ON clothes if he happened to win the hand.

Everything was set. Bottles of alcohol, snacks, cigars - Richie had seen it in movies, knowing Beverly would appreciate the effort - a pack of unopened cards and gentle jazz music playing in the background. The Losers had agreed easily, even Stan although Richie wasn’t sure he knew what he’d gotten himself in for. Eddie was first to arrive which both delighted and annoyed Richie - he had been alone with Eddie many times but ever since they’d returned from Derry, there had been a heavy tension between them. He poured him a glass of scotch, trying not to look at the undone top button of his shirt. If by some miracle his plan actually worked tonight, Richie was not going to make it out alive. Slowly, the others arrived and they settled around the table, Bill taking up the cards to deal first.

It wasn’t until Richie was staring at his cards that he realised he didn’t have a fucking clue how to play poker. But he was nothing if not determined. Stan and Mike immediately folded. Richie watched Eddie intently during the betting, not because he was particularly concentrating on the game or trying to figure out if he was bluffing or not but because he was so fucking cute. Richie raised, determined to bluff his way through the entire game.

“You’d best back down now, girls,” he bragged, holding his cards close to his chest. The community cards were all placed and the final round of betting took place until they presented. Richie placed his cards on the table, “read ‘em and weep.”

Mike nodded, impressed, “straight.”

“How dare you!” Richie gasped theatrically and the group sniggered, Beverly nearly choking on her cigar.

“A straight is any five cards in order but not of the same suit,” Stan explained with a roll of his eyes. Richie shrugged.

“I don’t care. I want Kaspbrak’s pants.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, showing his hand, “sorry, Rich. Full House.”

Ben and Beverly groaned and tossed their cards on the table whilst Bill handed Eddie his winnings with a smirk. Eddie’s own grin was positively devilish as he scanned the table, choosing his victim.

“Get that ugly fucking shirt off, Tozier.”

The group wolf-whistled, clapping enthusiastically and Richie shrugged, “calm down, you’re not getting me naked that easily,” he pulled off the hideous orange floral shirt, revealing a plain grey tee underneath. He glared mockingly at his very pleased friend, “gloat all you want, Eds. Your time will come.”

Two hours later and Eddie’s time still hadn’t come which pissed Richie off big time. Bill had Mike down to his vest and trousers much to his delight but was, himself, sitting there in just his shirt and underwear. Beverly, an accomplished poker player, had only removed her jumper, a shy request from Ben after he’d won his only game. Ben was decidedly the worst for wear, having been reduced to his boxers. Stan and Eddie were still fully dressed and Richie had removed his jeans, not that anyone had asked him to.

“I am literally begging you,” Richie was muttering to Bev as they took a private smoke break in the garden, “let me win. Or get Eddie to take his jacket off at least.”

“You’re pathetic, you know that right?”

Richie exhaled the smoke and nodded, “yeah. I need something to jerk off to, though,” he turned to glance behind him, smirking at the sight of Ben stretching, “although...”

“Behave,” Beverly elbowed him sharply, stubbing her cigarette out on the wall, “come on, lover boy.”

Richie flipped her off and followed her back to his seat, determined to at least see Eddie’s arms by the end of the night. No such luck. Stan won and begged Richie to put his pants back on which went ignored so, instead, he made Bill take his shirt off. Bill immediately got revenge, making Stan blush bright red as he took off his own shirt; the look he gave Richie for whistling would have killed a lesser man. Mike won and demanded Richie’s glasses which the comedian thought was odd. Until Beverly won and made Eddie take off his jacket

“Oh, fuck you. That’s homophobic, Beverly Marsh.” The Losers laughed, clinking their glasses together and drinking whilst Richie sulked in the background. “Fuck you all, you’re all deliberately conspiring so I won’t see Eddie’s dick!”

Bill, who was very drunk and draped over Mike, laughed and placed a hand on his chest defensively, “Rich, we would never.”

Eddie giggled, slightly tipsy as he reached over to pat Richie’s hand, “I’m not a piece of meat, Tozier.”

“I’m well aware, Kaspbrak, but I still wanna see your piece of meat.”

“I’m going home,” Stan announced, knocking back his last bit of whiskey. He quickly pulled on his shirt and shook his head, pocketing the money he’d won throughout the night, “thanks for a great night.”

The Losers waved Stan goodbye, Bill drunkenly hugging him goodnight and complimenting him on his ‘quite fit body, lucky Patty, I must say.’ Stan left with a blazing hot face yet again. The game died down after his departure. Unfortunately for Richie, by the time he’d gotten his glasses back on, Eddie had put his jacket back on. Homophobic indeed.

The Losers slowly departed with Bill and Mike leaving first, the latter supporting the former’s weight and trying not to blush as the drunk author muttered the dirtiest things under his breath. Beverly and Ben left after hand in hand which just left Eddie and Richie, cleaning up even though Richie insisted he would do it in the morning.

“Rich?”

“Yeah?”

Richie didn’t look up from the table he was cleaning, shoving bottles and paper plates into a bin bag. It hadn’t occurred to him that Eddie had stopped whatever it was he had been doing and was just watching him.

“If you wanted me to take my shirt off, you could’ve asked me.”

Richie looked up from the rubbish bag so fast he nearly broke his neck. Eddie was smiling almost nervously at him, biting his lip in a way that made Richie’s knees weak. The comedian blinked, trying not to look as dumbstruck as he felt.

“Uhh, sorry, Eds, I’m gay and useless, I didn’t think you liked me.”

“I’m not wearing any underwear because this was your idea, dumbass,” Eddie said without thinking, folding his arms, “the other guys said it was your ‘big plan’ or something. I didn’t expect you to be so shit at poker,” Richie was staring at him, open-mouthed and the rubbish bag fell to the floor with a thud. Eddie raised an eyebrow, clearing his throat as the silence grew uncomfortable, “err, Rich?”

Richie shook his head, speaking in a slightly husky voice when he recovered the ability to speak, “sorry Eds but I literally didn’t hear anything after ‘I’m not wearing any underwear.’”

Eddie smiled, stepping closer and taking Richie’s hands, “maybe I was bluffing.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Richie pouted playfully, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s middle and leaning down to slowly kiss him, teasingly, “may I find out for sure?”

Eddie breathed a sigh of relief and roughly grabbed Richie’s shirt, manhandling him towards the bedroom, “I thought you’d never ask.”

#everything I know about poker I learned from red dead redemption 2. so yeah this is texas hold'em #reddie fanfic #my writing

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moonfirerainbow · 5 years ago

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how about 34 for reddie! it sounds really intimate/romantic

This only took 30 years but here it is. It’s not how I wanted it to be at all but it’s something? Right? Yeah?? I hope you like it.

#34 kiss prompts: Kisses that start on their fingers and run up their arm, eventually ending on their lips.

Pairing: Reddie

Rating: Mature

_____

Eddie is sprawled out on the floor of Richie’s bedroom, feet up on the dresser and eyes on the TV set on top, where The Lost Boys is playing, volume low. The cover for the video is nearby, torn on the edges from overuse and years of being shoved in Richie’s backpack and carried to sleepovers at Bill’s. They’ve watched this movie hundreds of times, and they’ll watch it hundreds more, because Richie just can’t get enough of it.

Speaking of- Richie is right beside Eddie, mouthing the lines and tapping his long fingers against his knees, his voice a low, familiar sound that makes Eddie smile. It’s late, the clock on the desk reflecting a neon green twelve-zero-seven in the dark of the room, but Eddie isn’t sleepy. He never gets sleepy when he stays over at Richie’s. Not since the first time when they were ten, and Eddie pulled his first all-nighter, playing video games and reading comics, cracking up over funny expressions on their favorite characters.

“My own brother, a God damned shit sucking vampire!” Richie’s brows move up his forehead as he speaks, the light from the screen reflecting off his glasses. Richie chuckles, bumping Eddie’s shoulder with his. “This movie sucks so much.”

Eddie snorts, shoving at Richie’s knee with his foot. “You love it.”

“Nah.”

“Fucking liar.”

“It’s funny,” Richie says, rolling on his side and facing Eddie. He narrows his eyes in a dramatic glare. “Careful, Eds. I’m a shit sucking vampire.”

Reaching out, Eddie shoves Richie’s face away, laughing when Richie falls back into their piled blankets and pillows. “You’re just a shit sucker.”

Richie gets up and to his feet. “Jaysus. You’re after my throat tonight, huh?”

“You deserve it,” Eddie quips, no longer paying attention to Richie as he heads over to his messy closet.

Eddie sighs, stretching his toes out as he stares off, not watching the screen anymore. They start college in a month, and though they’re both headed to Boston-- along with Bill, Ben, and Mike-- Eddie dreads the end of these easy, wonderful nights. The end of spending so much time together, of sharing everything in their lives that they can call their own. Like Richie’s sweaters, that Eddie always ends up wearing when he’s cold. And Eddie’s softest pillow, that he gives to Richie whenever he sneaks over to Eddie’s in the middle of the night, to squeeze and hold as he falls asleep to nightmares.

Eddie is startled out of his thoughts by Richie settling down beside him, looking much more comfortable in a tee and shorts. “What’s that look for?” he asks, leaning down and peering into Eddie’s eyes. “You’re making your grumpy face.”

“I’m fine,” Eddie says, forcing his eyes away from Richie’s blue, blue stare. “Just kinda tired.”

“Then go to sleep, dumbass.”

“I could if you’d shut the fuck up.”

Smirking, Richie falls back, dark hair curled over the pillows, the screen light bouncing off his glasses again. “You’re not tired. Who is the fucking liar now, huh?”

Eddie can’t help the smile that curls over his lips, even though he’s trying to force his mouth into a thin line. “I’m not lying, asshole.”

“Yes you are!” Pushing up on his elbow, Richie pokes Eddie’s side with his free hand. “Like I don’t know you? You get all cuddly when you’re about to pass out. Trying to spoon me.”

Cuddly. Something in Eddie’s stomach twists at the way the word leaves Richie’s mouth. The same thing that always reacts to the unexpected ways Richie shows he pays attention. “I’m not cuddly,” Eddie says, failing to keep a straight face. “Shut up and watch your movie.”

Richie chuckles. “You’re caught.”

“Shh. The movie.”

“You’re a big time cuddler.”

“And you’re a big time moron.”

“So mean,” Richie says, then pokes Eddie’s side again. “Don’t be a dick.”

Eddie shoves at Richie’s face again, but Richie catches his hand that time, brings it to his mouth. Eddie’s chest goes tight at the warm breath brushing over his skin. Until Richie smirks, cocks one brow, then bites the pad of Eddie’s middle finger.

“Ow. What the fuck?” Eddie pulls his hand away, glaring. “What’s wrong with you?”

Richie’s grin is wide, a little crooked, like the angle that his glasses are sitting on his nose. “I’m a shit sucking vampire.”

Rolling his eyes, Eddie considers kicking him in the head. Or the balls. “Then suck on yourself!”

Cackling, Richie spreads his legs out in front of him, then bends down toward his lap. His voice is strained as he bobs his head a few times and says, “Nah. Can’t do it. You’ll have to do it for me.”

Eddie kicks him in the thigh, cheeks hot and ears burning. “Suck a fat one.”

“I would, but your mom-”

Eddie swings the pillow at him, catching Richie right in the face, almost knocking his glasses off. “Shut up.”

Richie’s unfazed, falling back into the blankets and laughing hard. Loud enough to wake his mom and dad. “You’re so mad! Why are you mad?”

“Cause you’re talking about my mom!”

“I always talk about fucking your mom. What’s the big deal?”

Eddie’s not even sure why he’s mad, so he doesn’t bother answering. Face flushing deep. Embarrassed. He just crawls under the thin sheet he stole from Richie’s bed, pulling it up over his head. Fucking jerk.

“What are you doing?” Richie says, tugging on the sheet. “Are you hiding?”

“Going to sleep.”

“It’s like, only a little after midnight.”

“Goodnight, Dick.”

“Okay, okay.” Richie reaches out, fingers sneaking under the sheet to take Eddie’s hand in his again. “I’m sorry. Forgive me, Eddie my love?”

Eddie sighs, deflated, and kicks the sheet away. “It’s fine. Just. I’m tired. Ok? I’m gonna sleep.”

Richie is quiet for a moment, eyes big and deep and so blue. “Hmm okay,” he says, but he squints, and Eddie knows he isn’t buying it. “I don’t think you’re tired at all.”

“Don’t think too hard there, Rich.”

Richie goes on, ignoring Eddie’s insult. “You’re embarrassed.”

This trips Eddie up, makes him stop before he can spit out another comeback. Yeah, he’s embarrassed, but Richie’s never called him out on it before. “And why would I be embarrassed?”

“No idea, but you’re face is all red like you are.”

Eddie looks away, withering under Richie’s stare. “I’m not. I’m mad that you bit me. Like, who does that?”

“I’m sorry,” Richie mumbles, then he pulls Eddie’s hand up to his mouth again. “Okay?” He breathes out, and presses his lips to the soft pad of Eddie’s finger.

Eddie inhales, just sharp enough for Richie to notice, and it should end there, but Richie pauses instead of moving away. Long enough for their eyes to meet in the glow from the TV. It’s one of those weird little moments, where Eddie isn’t sure what’s about to happen, but the air is charged around them, a sudden change.

Richie goes on, breath hot and damp on Eddie’s palm, warm mouth dragging over Eddie’s dry skin. And higher, to press a kiss to the inside of Eddie’s wrist. Slow. Hesitant. Eddie’s heart jumps hard in his chest, every spot Richie’s mouth touches on fire. He should stop this. He should shove Richie away, call him an idiot. Something that would bring this back to normal territory. But he doesn’t. Eddie doesn’t say a word as Richie kisses up his arm, over the crazy sensitive skin (has it always been this fucking sensitive?) of his inner arm, the inside of his elbow. Lingering as he gets close to the fold of Eddie’s sleeve.

Richie pauses, lips hovering over Eddie’s shirt, and their eyes meet again. A deep swooping runs through Eddie’s stomach, his breath getting shorter as Richie waits. Just as Eddie’s about to tell Richie to get the fuck off him, Richie’s eyes drop to Eddie’s mouth, a brief glance that lights heat in his chest and skin.

Bringing his free hand up, Eddie cups the back of Richie’s neck and pulls him in, lips missing the mark and catching the corner of Richie’s mouth instead. But Richie adjusts with a sharp gasp, palms suddenly on Eddie’s face, a gentle touch that spills the truth, despite how hard Richie’s kissing him back. And Eddie’s had so few kisses in his life that he’s not sure what the hell to do, but he follows Richie’s lead, holding on to his best friend with trembling hands.

Pulling back to breathe, Richie buries his face in Eddie’s shoulder, slipping the neck of the tee down and mouthing a hot trail over the flushed skin there. A sound chokes Eddie off, one he can’t hold in when Richie’s teeth skim the base of his neck.

“Richie,” Eddie groans, legs falling open as Richie’s thin hips get so close to him. So, so close. “Rich…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Richie’s eyes come into view again, heavy and lidded as he stares down at Eddie. “What the hell, Eds?” His voice is breathless and low. “We’re kinda making out here. What’s happening?”

“I want you.” The words are out of Eddie’s mouth before he can think twice about admitting it. “I want to be with you.”

“Fuck,” Richie groans, dropping his head to rest on Eddie’s chest. He speaks muffled into the fabric of Eddie’s shirt. “I’m dreaming. I gotta be.”

Frowning down at the mass of dark hair hiding Richie from him, Eddie rubs his palms over Richie’s back, urging him gently to look at him. “What do you mean?”

Lifting his head, Richie moves up a bit and settles between Eddie’s legs, warm and perfect and hard against him. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since we were like, fucking twelve, dude.”

“Really?”

Nodding, Richie leans in, presses a sweet, slow kiss to Eddie’s lips, a kiss that Eddie deepens, wrapping his arms around Richie’s back, one hand pushing under the hem of his shirt to touch smooth skin, the other getting lost in Richie’s hair. Gripping the strands hard as Richie’s hips jerk against him.

The damn movie is still playing, a background to the sharp breaths and gasps, and Eddie can barely hear it. So caught up in Richie’s mouth and his taste and how good his hair smells, and every little sound he makes as Eddie slides a knee over his hips. Lifts up to meet the little rolls of Richie’s body.

“Wait. Wait, fuck.” Richie pulls back, so flushed and hair a bigger mess than usual from Eddie’s hands. “Eds. I can’t. If you don’t want more than this, I’m gonna have to tap out.

Rolling his eyes, Eddie pulls Richie back to him. “Asshole. I do want more.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Eddie says, then squeezes his thighs around Richie’s waist. “Fucking kiss me. Be my boyfriend, or whatever.”

Richie smiles wide, whispers, “Okay,” and then they’re kissing again.

________

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tr4shmouth-tozi3r · 5 years ago

Text

‘listen, I know I’m a drunk, jealous asshole, but I love you.’ - richie tozier x reader

requested: yes & i luuuuv these jealous richie requests, so with that being said after this if anyone wants to send in a jealous richie request get specific for me cause this is my second one already, so the more specific they get the easier it will be for me to keep writing this kind of request. also decided that combining it with the second request would be super easy and i like the concepts together lol. you guys are 16 here.

also, @lavender-zone thank you so much queen🥺 I really appreciate knowing you enjoy my writing so much!

pairing: richie tozier x reader

warnings: swearing, angst, drug use, alcohol consumption, sexual innuendos, fluff.

October 4th, 1992—

“Hey, uh look, I don’t know how much longer you’re gonna be a sour puss and ignore my calls, but call me back, doll.”

“Listen, you’re driving me fuckin’ crazy. We’re best friends, y/n and we barely go two hours without talking. It’s been like almost three whole days, please just call me, sweets.”

“Hey, I know you’re giving me the silent treatment, but mom’s booze cabinet was unlocked and I’ve got a whole fuckin’ bottle of tequila with our names on it. Cut the shit and call me.”

“I’ve been sittin’ on this bottle for about three hours now and you still haven’t called me! If you don’t call me soon I might have to drink it by myself and I don’t think anybody fuckin’ wants that. Call me, this shit is getting old, y/n/n.”

“Alright, well I’ve already had about six shots and I’m buzzed as all hell. You can ignore my calls and voicemails all you want, toots. Won’t be able to ignore me—hiccup—when I show up outside your window.”

“Fucking great.” You sighed heavily as you forcefully shoved the antenna of your cellphone down and threw the big hunk of buttons toward the end of your bed. Your eyes were bloodshot and puffy from crying and you were certain you’d cried every tear you had.

Your window was open and almost as if it was on cue, you heard a burp and an ‘oh shit’ from outside. It was moments like this one, when you were pissed at Richie, that you hated how close his house was to yours.

You rolled your eyes and rose from your bed, reluctantly dragging your feet to your window.

“What do you want?” Your ass landed ontop of the raidiator below your windowsill. One leg rested above the other leg as you peered down at him.

“Look,” he ran one hand through his dark curls and licked his lips, tequila in the other, “I’m sorry, c’mon doll. Let me in? Let’s talk and hangout? I have gifts!” He wiggled his eyebrows with a goofy (and slightly buzzed) look in his eyes and grinned as he reached into his jacket pocket. His hands raised and he waved the bottle in one and a joint in the other.

Your eyes scanned over him momentarily, the street lamp above him shining down on his face and the black eye he’d gotten a few days prior was hard to make out behind the crack in the lense of his glasses. You thought hard before speaking, “Fine. You’ve got five minutes, but...,” you spoke sharply and crossed your arms, “that’s it.”

October 1st, 1992—

“No way, bro. There’s no fuckin’ way Darren’s doing that to y/n.” Richie Tozier’s head shot up from his lunch tray at the familiar name. His eyes squinted from behind his thick-rimmed spectacles and landed on two boys in his grade. They wore red letterman jackets and sported big numbers on their backs along with their last names. It was a couple of Darren’s football buddies.

Darren was some guy from school that y/n had recently started seeing and Richie hated his guts. He was a complete douchebag and was nowhere close to the type of guy he ever would have expected to see y/n with. If he was being honest, he saw himself with her more than anyone, but that was definitely never going to happen. He’d been best friends with the girl since they were in 3rd grade, along with the rest of their group, not including Ben, Bev, and Mike (they came around a lot later on).

“Yeah he is, I swear dude. He made a bet with Bowers that he could get into her pants by homecoming.” Richie felt his ears heat up instantly and he clenched his fists and his jaw simultaneously. If it was possible to blow steam out of your head when angry, Richie would have been smoking up the entire cafeteria in seconds.

Richie may have never liked any of the guys that stole y/n’s heart, but he knew there was something way off about this one and he was right. He stood up quickly, his chair flying back and he threw on his leather jacket before grabbing his bag and storming out of the cafeteria. He knew exactly where he was headed.

“Hey, Darren!” Richie’s voice rang out across the football field as he hastily made his way across, cracking his knuckles and his black painted nails glistened against the sun. He ignored the way y/n’s eyes landed on him from the bleachers and realization dawned on her face that he was, in fact, about to do something very stupid. She could see it written across his face; the redness in his cheeks prominent and the way he clenched his jaw made her stand up suddenly.

“Tozier, we’re in the middle of a practice, get the fuck off the field!” Richie tuned out the coach’s voice.

“Tozier? Uh... what are you doing?” Darren set his water bottle down and raised an eyebrow at Richie, who dropped his bag as he got even closer. Suddenly, he was walking right up to Darren and his fist was flying right into his nose.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing, dumbass!?” The football coach was running toward the boys, his clipboard waving in the air.

“You sick fuck, making bets on how long it’s gonna take you to bang my best friend!?” Richie’s words came out in a hiss as he shook his hand from the sudden impact, wincing. Darren stumbled backwards and tripped, falling to the ground. Richie got on top of him and punched him again, this time breaking his nose and blood gushed from the boy’s face.

“You little shit, you broke my nose! What the fuck!?” Darren reached for his nose with one hand while his other hand clung to Richie’s shirt collar as he tried to keep as much distance between them as possible, “And you have no fucking idea what you’re talking about!”

Richie swung down at him again and his fist connected with Darren’s bottom lip and blood trickled down his chin, “Oh yeah right, fuckface! Maybe tell your little butt slappin’ buddies to stop whispering about your douchebag escapades at lunch!” Darren quickly mustered the strength to pull Richie down and roll his way over and on top of him. He threw a punch at Richie’s face, the boy’s glasses cracking against the sensitive flesh around his eye and suddenly, his coach was behind him and trying to pry him up and off of Richie.

“Stop!” Darren’s arm was cocked back as he struggled against the strong hold his coach had on him, ready to punch Richie again, but the sound of your voice stopped him. Richie’s head snapped in your direction, his glasses crooked and broken on his face and a black eye forming already. His knuckles that were squeezed tightly against the fabric of Darren’s tee were covered in Darren’s blood and bruised. Darren looked at you, blood running from his broken nose and over his mouth, dripping from his chin.

You hurried toward them, screaming at them the whole way, “What the fuck is wrong with you, Rich!? And Darren, get off of him!” They separated, Darren being picked up by his coach and Richie scrambled to his feet, taking his glasses off and stuffing them angrily into his backpack on the ground.

“What’s wrong with me? More like what’s wrong with him!” Richie pointed his finger at Darren in blame, “He’s using you, y/n, for a quick fuck and some dickwad bragging rights,” Richie spit at the ground in front of Darren, who was consistently denying the curly haired boy’s claim, before he continued, “because he made a bet with Bowers, that he could fuck you by hom-”

Richie found himself being cut off as you shouted, “Enough! God, Rich... you’re my best friend, but every single guy I try to be with, you always have to wedge your way between us! Now, this!? This is way too far.” You shook your head in disgust and walked toward Darren, slipping your arms around his waist and asking him if he was alright.

Richie went to speak, “But-”

“No, Richie, no buts. I’m not buying this shit for a second, now please... just go.” You scowled at him and he pursed his lips and smiled rather sourly as he threw his hands up in surrender.

He let out a bitter laugh before he spoke, “Fine, but when he hurts you like I said, which he will, don’t come crying to me, doll. I’ll be the one to tell you I told you so and you wouldn’t like that.” He glared at Darren and then looked at you, trying to see passed the anger written across your face, but he couldn’t.

“Fuck you, Tozier.” Darren flipped him off, blood spewing outward as he spat the hateful words in Richie’s direction.

“Hey, that’s enough!” Coach yelled, pointing his finger in the direction of each them.

“C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.” You spoke quietly to your boyfriend, your eyes never leaving Richie as you did. His face fell at your expression, because he knew that one all too well. Growing up together, he managed to elicit that look from you quite a few times. It was a look of hurt. He fucked up and you didn’t believe him.

“Tozier, get your ass to the principle’s office, now!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah...” Richie grumbled and waved off the coach as he rushed off the field and right into the parking lot ahead. No way in hell was he going to the principle’s office. He got in his car, slammed the old creaky door shut and sped off in the direction of the quarry, his engine roaring and his speed increasing the whole way.

“FUCK!” His hands slammed against the steering wheel and he tore a pack of Marlboro's out of his leather jacket pocket, “Stupid, stupid, stupid!” He scolded himself and lit a cigarette as he pulled up to the quarry parking lot.

He sat in silence at this point, thinking about how no matter what he would do, he’d never have you.

Present day—

You sat and watched your best friend ramble on and on with his apology, which sounded 100% rehearsed and you expected nothing less from Richie Tozier. You wanted to be so mad at him and to take it to your grave and never look at him again, but that was only so you didn’t have to remind yourself of how much you loved the insufferable little shithead.

“I swear to god, I wasn’t lying. I heard his twatty football buddies talking about it at lunch and I-,” he took a deep breath, before puffing on his cigarette he had lit moments before this, “I just got so mad. I know I could have handled it better, but you need to believe me, y/n, I’m not lying.” His words came out quickly and nervously and he was puffing away at his cigarette as if his life depended on it. He was definitely a bit tipsy, having already made a small dent in the bottle of tequila.

“I know...”

“Listen, I know it seemed like a-”

“Rich, I said I know.” He looked at you as you spoke quietly, confusion written across his face and he put the cigarette out, “I know you were telling the truth. I heard Greta while I was in the girls bathroom yesterday talking to her friends about it, saying how funny it was and how he was boning her behind my back and the only reason he made the bet was so Bowers would be on his good side and he could use him as like a body guard... or some shit...?” You and Richie both found yourselves with confused looks on your faces by the end of your statement.

Then there was silence, but the laughs that followed made Richie feel warm inside and he thanked god that you were laughing with him and smiling at him and talking to him and you were just here with him.

“Anyway, after that I confronted him about what I heard Greta saying and he cracked. He admitted it to me and then,” your eyes filled with tears you didn’t think you even had after all the crying you’d done before Richie arrived, “he had the nerve, to ask if I would lie and tell everyone we fucked so he could get whatever it was that he wanted from Bowers.”

“That nasty fuckin’ pig, I should go punch his teeth out this time, for treating my best friend like that.” You smiled sadly at Richie’s words and the way he leaned forward to wipe away your tears. You didn’t say anything else as you grabbed the bottle of tequila from his hand.

“I just... fuck, I was so mad that you were right, okay? That’s why I haven’t talked to you first.” You sniffled and brought the bottle to your lips.

“God, you’re so stubborn. So petty. You drive me nuts, doll..” He teased you and you scoffed at him before taking a swig from the bottle.

“Oh, light that joint, will ya?” You asked him bitterly, the harsh liquid coating your throat and burning your chest as you spoke.

“So.. does this mean I have my best friend back or what?” He raised an eyebrow as he put the joint over the flame of his lighter.

“Fuck, Richie, you know...” you sighed and took another shot, “I wouldn’t want anybody else to be my number one best friend, but could you stop getting into my love life and let me figure this shit out myself, then?” His eyes lingered over the joint and he didn’t speak for a moment.

“Yeah.. yeah, no problem, sweets.” His words were soft and you were a bit confused by his reaction and the way he had hesitated before answering you.

Richie was a stubborn bastard and he knew he had missed the perfect moment to just tell you how he felt, but he didn’t like to be vulnerable and everyone knew that. He was afraid of rejection, and also, of breaking the strong bond between the two of you. And it was funny, because the same thoughts ran through your head about him. So, in conclusion, you were both absolute oblivious knuckleheads.

Bev had always tried to explain to you how Richie was jealous whenever you would end up with a new guy. He was always cold toward them and very protective of you. Anyone with eyes could tell, but you refused to believe it. Richie was your best friend, there was no way he felt that way about you and if he did, he would have said something by now, right? You also wondered if it would ever even work between the two of you. The thought that it might not, always lingered in your head and you couldn’t stand the idea of losing him.

To you, having him as a best friend was more than good enough, if it meant keeping him forever.

“Let’s smoke this on the roof.” You grinned at Richie’s statement and took the joint from him as you both stood up.

You picked up your conversation from where it had left off and you looked at him, curiosity gleaming in your eyes, “Why are you always so over the top whenever I get a boyfriend?”

You passed the joint back to him, intently waiting for an answer. He looked nervous, like he didn’t know what to say, “I.. I mean, you’re my best friend, we grew up together. I don’t want anyone to hurt you.” His eyes darted over yours and your face softened.

“Rich, you’ve gotta give them a chance first! Every guy, you instantly hate. I don’t get it. Like that boy when I was thirteen, Jared, he held my hand in front of you and you shoved him into a bush. How was he hurting me?” You raised an eyebrow and then giggled at the memory replaying in your head.

“Hey, I’ll have you know Jerkoff Jared was a pervy little shit, practically eye-fucking you all the time, I mean we were thirteen for crying out loud. Oh, and let’s not forget Tony Tiny Balls, was he before or after Garrett the Gagger?” The seriousness etched across his face was priceless and you looked at him with wide eyes, your hair swaying in the wind and the stars shining off your face and damn, he couldn’t stop looking at you as he slowly hit the joint.

“See what I mean? You gave them all inappropriate nicknames, too!?” You both busted out laughing, the alcohol and weed starting to really affect the both of you and it was affecting Richie in the weirdest way. For some reason, words were just coming out of his mouth and he couldn’t stop them.

“I was jealous.” He slurred and you froze up. What was he doing?

“What, uh, wh-what do you mean?” You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, your eyes falling on the suddenly pretty pattern of your roofing. You wanted to believe the alcohol had you hearing things, but you knew that wasn’t true.

He sighed and looked down at you before putting the joint out, your face looking the other way, “I mean, exactly what I said.. I was jealous. I was always jealous.” His eyes were back on you again.

You turned your head at the feeling of his eyes burning holes into the side of your skull, “Why?” You swallowed the lump in your throat that you didn’t even know was there and felt your heart beating like crazy in your chest.

“Oh, for fuck sake, don’t beat around the bush, y/n.” He hiccupped before he continued, “You know why.” His voice went low and his stare intensified. He leaned forward slightly as he took his broken glasses off, his tequila breath hitting your face and you swore you almost blacked out and that he was about to kiss you, but he didn’t.

The same thought ran through your head as you stared back at him, your eyes searching his. You’re my best friend and I can’t lose you, what if I take this chance and it blows up in my face?

“Richie, I-”

“Listen, I know I’m a drunk, jealous asshole, but...” He whispered so lowly, you didn’t think you heard it right, but oh yes you did, “I love you...”

You stared at him, unsure of what to say or do, because yes, you’ve said I love you to each other, but this one was different. He said it in a way that made your heart flutter and your stomach twist and turn. You had wanted this for as long as you could remember, yet you were always so afraid of it. The thought of losing Richie because of a stupid relationship that didn’t workout scared you, but knowing he felt this way made you wonder if you would regret not taking the chance.

You were torn...

“Hey, no rush here or anything, but uh,” he coughed awkwardly and scratched the back of his head, “are you gonna respond?” He smiled sheepishly at you and your mouth opened then closed and his face fell.

“God... fucking damnit, Rich!” You dropped your head into your hands.

“Shit, all you have to say is you don’t feel the same way.” He was smiling awkwardly at you before another hiccup escaped his lips and you looked up and shook your head.

“No, Rich..,” you sighed, “that’s the problem, I love you so much it drives me fuckin’ crazy, but I just don’t think we should do that to ourselves. Everything would change, and don’t get me wrong, being with you sounds amazing...” you gazed into his eyes, “I would just rather have you forever and if the only way that works is if we stay best friends, then that’s how it has to be.”

He involuntarily laughed and let out a small snort with an expression on his face that said ‘you’re joking, right?’.

“Doll, you’ll never know unless you try.” He spoke softly as he reached for a fallen strand of hair in your face, tucking it behind your ear.

“Rich, I just can’t... I’m sorry.” Your eyes glossed over and you tried not to cry as you looked away from him. He sighed and wrapped his arm around you and kissed the top of your head.

“It’s okay, but I love you and you love me, so we’ll be together eventually, babycakes. I don’t care how long it takes, whether it’s now or in ten years, I’ll wait. Don’t think I’m not gonna constantly ask you out, though, cause I am. I mean shit, we can set a schedule, like every first of the month I’ll ask you out in the most mushy gushy romantic way I can possibly come the fuck up with and whenever you’re finally ready, just say yes.” He stated simply and grinned down at you as you rolled your eyes, but there was a smile on your face, too.

“God, Tozier, when did you turn into such a sap?” You feigned genuine curiosity, but also let the amusement drip from your words, “But seriously, I just think it’s better this way.”

“Whatever you say, pretty girl. I’m serious, too, I’m not giving up. I’ve loved you since we were little kids. I’m not gonna give in that easy.”

So, Richie wasn’t playing around when he said he wasn’t going to give in that easy and he also decided to change it from once a month to once every two weeks. You expected something like this from Richie, so it didn't surprise you even a little bit, but at this rate you weren’t sure how long you’d last.

Richie being romantic was rare; sure, he could flirt. Flirting was something different, but being romantic? Richie Tozier?

You were practically swooning as you thought about it. Fuck, keep it together, girl...

Pep talks usually worked for you, even coming from your own head, but in a situation like this your brain was absolute mush. It had been a month and a half since Richie had confessed his feelings for you and made his promise to win you over and help you shine through your insecurities. So that meant, you’d been asked out three times already and he wasn’t kidding when he said ‘the most mushy gushy romantic way I can possibly come the fuck up with’.

October 18th, 1992—

The first time he asked you, he forced you to go on a picnic with him at the quarry. He had the small spot set up with lights and a fire and a spot for you to sit together cozily.

You sat wrapped up in a blanket together, poking sticks with marshmallows on them against the fire. That’s when he asked you, “So was this picnic good enough to make you mine yet?” He looked down at you with his big round brown eyes, maginified by his thick glasses (he finally got a new pair a few days prior, so for the passed couple weeks basically, he was blind in one eye).

You swallowed the lump in your throat and you smirked suddenly, “Hey, y’know isn’t this more like a campfire than a picnic?” You raised an eyebrow and pursed your lips at him, trying not to smile.

He groaned and threw his head back, “Fuck, you’re impossible, sweets.” He looked back down at you shaking his head in amusement and you brought your half burnt marshmallow to your lips with a sly smile on your face as if to rub it in.

“Gotcha.”

November 1st, 1992—

The second time he asked you, he told you he had a surprise planned for you and that it was so urgent you had to skip school for it, which you honestly didn’t mind too much. So, you didn’t protest, instead giving in right away this time.

Fuck, he had you closer to where he wanted you without even really trying. You were so screwed.

You remember leaving your house that morning and getting in the passenger seat of his bright red, beat up 1983 maserati. The car was only nine years old, but with an owner like Richie, the car was practically a pile of junk already. You loved it.

It was freezing that morning and he told you, “It’s about to get a bit colder, toots. Don’t worry I brought you an extra scarf.” He smiled from ear to ear as he glanced over at you for just a second.

God, he made it so fucking hard for you...

And before you knew it, you were at an ice skating rink a town or two over (you weren’t too sure, you were too busy throwing glances at Richie the whole ride there).

“Rich, I don’t even know how to ice skate!” You squeaked and your face turned pink. The tip of your nose went bright red from the instant cold that hit when you stepped out of the car, gaze locked on Richie.

“It’s okay, me neither.” He shrugged at you with a goofy smile and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he held his other hand out to you.

“You’re fucking crazy, you know that? How is this romantic if neither of us know how to ice skate?” You asked him expectantly.

“We’re gonna learn together, teach other. Balance one another out.” Your breath hitched at the way he spoke, no trace of slyness behind his words. He spoke rather sweetly and your heart dropped into your belly. Fuck, fuck, fuck...

You put your shaky hand in his and followed him as he carried a bag over his opposite shoulder, “So, I got us ice skates since I know your shoe size, because you can’t rent any here. You have to bring your own here. They had these really pretty pink ones so I grabbed those for you. I asked Bev to look at them, too. I wanted to make sure you’d like them.”

What the fuck. Stop it, y/n. Relax, it’s sweet, yeah, but do not give in. DO NOT GIVE IN.

“Th-thanks, Rich.” You coughed awkwardly and he smirked down at you as he handed you the skates.

You noticed there was practically no one there and you looked at him questioningly, “There’s no one here, are you sure they’re open?”

“Yeah, I made sure. That’s why I picked this place, they don’t get much business, so more alone time with my pretty lady.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you and you could feel yourself absolutely screaming on the inside.

Damn, this one was good. So good you wanted to give in, juuust a little bit. You were strong, though and you held out. Even when he was slipping and sliding on the ice with you in his arms, your hands locked firmly on his biceps to keep as much of your own balance as you could. You both laughed and foreheads knocked together and noses brushed and you might have felt his breath in your mouth for a split second, his lips just grazing yours accidently.

Your chest exploded and you wondered if it felt even better to actually press your lips to his and if he tasted good; he sure looked like he did...

“So, babe whaddaya say? Be with me, c’mon this sappy shit is starting to make me feel all ooey gooey inside, bleh.” He scrunched his nose up and peered down at you in amusement over his glasses.

“You have no idea how much willpower I’m using to say this right now, but no can do, trashmouth.” You laughed at his expression. His glasses slid down his nose and his cheeks were flaming and his mouth was slightly open. He was absolutely shocked it hadn’t worked.

“You’re one tough fuckin’ cookie, y/n y/l/n.” He laughed before placing a kiss on your head trying not to fall backwards onto the ice as he pulled away.

November 15th, 1992—

Alright, so the third time he asked you he might have been very, very tipsy. And when Richie gets tipsy enough, he turns into a complete hornball.

We’ll keep this short and sweet, but he ended up slurring along to the words of Good Enough by Bobby Brown, singing into one of your hair brushes in your room.

Even weirder; some of your friends were over and having some drinks with you, as well. Their reactions were priceless, but you on the other hand, weren’t sure whether you should laugh or blush.

“So? Be my—hiccup—girlfriend, sexy?” He swayed from side to side, his hands spread out above his head and his mouth curled into a big dopey smile.

“Oh god, Rich... this one was terrible, but also memorable. I swear to god I’m never gonna forget this.”

“Well, fuck—hiccup—me.”

“Oh, you wish, loverboy.”

November 29th, 1992—

You had to admit, you were in love with Richie for years and you never thought you could fall even more in love with him, but you were wrong. The passed two months were honestly the happiest you’d been in a long time and he wasn’t even your boyfriend. Your insecurities began to fade away and all you could think about was being Richie’s and him being yours.

Homecoming was around the corner and today was your two week mark, so you knew what that meant. Lucky number four.

Weirdly enough, you anticipated it all day long and to no avail. He hadn’t even asked you anything at all, nor to Homecoming and you felt somewhat disappointed.

At the end of the day, he told you he had some things to take care of and he’d see you at your place later. This didn’t help your mood, but you let it go. Maybe, he forgot today was another two weeks. Maybe, he thought it was tomorrow...

You trailed up your driveway and through your front door, confusion spread across your face at the pair of pastel pink heels sat neatly on your doormat just inside. You looked up and Eddie was sitting in your living room.

“Holy shit, Eds, how the fuck did you get in here!?” You stumbled back and he laughed at you and shrugged.

“I can’t tell you that, but here, this is for you. You might wanna grab those heels too, and head into the kitchen.”

This had Richie written all over it and you cursed yourself for thinking he had forgotten his own plan. Of course he didn’t...

You peered down at the pink rose hair clip, it was beautiful. You let Eddie place it in your hand and you grabbed the heels, turning the corner to kitchen.

Bev and Bill sat at your kitchen table and in front of them was a shoe box that looked brand new, “Oh hey, sweetie,” Bev smirked up at you, “we’ve got something for you.” She handed you the shoebox and inside was a pair of dark men’s dress shoes.

Of course Richie would make you carry his shit, the little bastard.

Bill looked at you and nodded towards your staircase. You slowly walked to and up the stairs and Stan, Mike, and Ben all stood at the top of the stairs. Stan held onto a nice looking suit, that happened to match your shoes perfectly. Mike held onto a bouquet of pink roses and Ben held out a beautiful pastel pink dress in his hands.

You reached the top of the stairs and they piled everything onto you, “There’s one more thing in your room, go see what it is.” Mike smiled mischievously and you shook your head at the cheesiness of it all.

Richie really had outdone himself here. You had no idea he was capable of such sappy shit, but boy did it make your heart melt.

You walked into your room and Richie stood in front of you with a cute little sign that read, ‘be a smartie and let this dum dum take you to homecoming?’

You dropped everything on your bed and hunched over laughing and trying to catch your breath, “I’m so–I’m so sorry, it’s just–” you looked down at the poster and giggled.

He blushed and said, “Hey, this part was all Bev, I was gonna wing it. You were gonna come in and I was gonna say ‘hey, dollface, I already got both the tickets and our outfits, now you gotta go or you’re paying me back cause this shit took every dime I saved since I was twelve, see ya at 8 on Saturday’. I told her what I was gonna say and she laughed in my face and forced me to draw this, which I suck at by the way, but she picked this clever one herself. Would have been helpful if she drew it, too. Oh well.”

He shrugged and you had stopped laughing and now you were just staring at him as you inched closer to him, “Fuck, I love you, you cornball.” You threw your hands around his neck and whispered to him, “Of course I’ll go to homecoming with you, dum dum.” You giggled into the nape of his neck as he muttered a small ‘hey!’ and you continued, “What kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t?”

You pulled away so your face was in front of his now and his eyes locked with yours, his face reddening by the second, “Really?” He barely spoke above a whisper and you nodded at him with a grin, “God, finally. I don’t know what else I could have done to top this shit! Plus, I’m broke now.” He shrugged with a joking smile. Or maybe he wasn’t joking, you weren’t actually sure...

Suddenly, his lips were on yours and it felt like everything was falling ontop of you. Your ears rang and your arms tingled, your legs going weak. His tongue slid against your bottom lip and you hummed into the kiss, revelling in the taste of strawberry candies and Marlboro’s enveloping your mouth and for some reason nothing could have tasted sweeter to you. Your tongues clashed and your heart fluttered and you saw stars behind your closed eyes.

“I love you, sweets. I told you I’d make you mine, didn’t I?” He pressed his forehead against yours, his breathing heavy as he tried to catch his breath and his glasses fogged up for a moment.

“I love you too, but I think I’ve been yours for a while now.” You murmured against his lips as you reached up and took his glasses off for him.

“Just wait till I get my hands on you after homecoming, I can’t wait to take that dress off of you.” Smirk.

“Richie!” Blush.

would u like some 🧀 with that 🌽 ?

lol srsly tho i love this hope u guys liked it(:

@ineffable-husbxnds @eddiegotdatassma @prof-scribbles @thebriskneees @homosexualkaspbrak

So I started a tag list, lmk if you wanna be added to the list so whenever I post a fic I’ll tag u😇

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scullyseviltwin · 5 years ago

Text

It’s an oddly cool Saturday morning when it happens.

Sun streams in through the breaks in Richie’s blackout curtains, the beams cutting through the bits of dust that are kicked up in the wake of footfalls. Eddie has been tearing around, toting his large mug of coffee with him as he does, bopping around the living room and dining room, dusting here and there.

Richie wakes later in the morning—ten, not too bad—and finds a Chemex topped up with fragrant dark roast; he microwaves a mug, dots in some almond milk and sugar and pads into the hallway laundry closet where Eddie has begun separating out their laundry.

“Seriously man, you’ve gotta check your pockets before tossing shit into the hamper,” he tosses a tube of lip balm at Richie’s chest, the heart inside of which squeezes painfully.

Eddie’s hair is chaotic, the five o’clock shadow he’s been sporting for a week finally becoming proper scruff. He’s standing there in slouchy, red and blue flannel pajama pants and a v-neck white tee-shirt and he looks like a dream. It’s domestic in an unbelievably sweet way and it fills Richie right up.

Eddie is here, wants to be here, willingly living alongside Richie.

Eddie murmurs, “Last time it was your phone, like, come on,” and he pauses, snatches up his mug and taking a long pull. “You’re a man child, I swear.”

Richie’s eyes fall to Eddie’s hands, moving the whites into one basket and colors into the other.

It hits Richie so violently in that moment that he nearly drops his coffee. “Hey Eds,” he says, quiet, voice still rough with sleep.

Eddie turns, brows raised, as though to ask, “What?”

“I... love you,” Richie shrugs, like he can’t stop it, like he can’t help it.

Eddie freezes. “Wh... what?”

Richie smiles, takes a sip of his coffee. “I love you, Eds.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I’m in love with you,” and Eddie’s face does something funny, screws up and then smooths out and then he’s stepping right into Richie’s personal space, toe to toe.

“Really?”

“Why’ssat surprise you?” Richie asks, amused, and he’s calm and warm and perfect.

Eddie shrugs and then winds his arms around Richie’s waist, presses his face into Richie’s shoulder and breathes. It’s so nice, so normal, so unlike anything he ever thought he’d have.

It should scare him, it doesn’t.

“I love you too, Rich,” Eddie says, his hot breath puffing against Richie’s neck. “So much that... sometimes I don’t know what to do with it.”

Richie’s palm finds the nape of Eddie’s neck and strokes; they settle there, in the hallway, their dirty laundry half-sorted before them.

Together they breathe.

After a bit, Richie’s hand squeezes Eddie’s neck and pulls back.

“I’m gonna make you waffles,” Richie says, dropping a kiss atop Eddie’s messy hair.

#reddie #drabble #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #it: chapter 2 #richie tozier/eddie kaspbrak

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gaypasta · 5 years ago

Note

maybe 16 or 2 for reddie!

“Are you hurt?” “No.” “Then why are there bruises all over your face?”It wasn’t that Richie didn’t like being at home - he did. Maggie and Wentworth were great and all of the Losers were treated like an extension of the family whenever they would crowd into Richie’s living room with bowls of popcorn and a plethora of sugary snacks. The issue was the Richie didn’t really like being alone. He got antsy, he couldn’t concentrate and more often than not, couldn’t fall asleep.

It happened first, with Ben. Sweet Ben who couldn’t have kicked Richie out even if he wanted to when Richie knocked on his bedroom window of the bungalow and wormed his way into Ben’s bed and talked and talked until he’d talked out all of his energy and he passed out with Ben sat beside him wondering what the hell just happened.

Then it was Bill, when he was understimulated. Richie would pedal all the way to Bill’s, climb the tree, then hop onto the porch roof and then pull open Bill’s bedroom window - which was always a little open. Bill liked the fresh air. He would wake Bill up and they’d play video games or go for a walk or do anything to get Richie stimulated enough to be able to fall asleep without twitching in the bed like a live wire.

Then, Richie chanced it with Mike. An hour long bicycle ride later and he stumbled his way around the farm up to the house and shouted for Mike to let him in. Richie was mad. So mad. It was after the fight between him and Bill and he had thought it over and over and over again in his head until he wound himself up into a ball of rage and Mike brought him around all the animals with a flashlight in hand and let his anger dissipate.

Then it was Stan. After the sewers. They all had nightmares, sure. Richie could never get back to sleep. He hated sleeping alone. So, he hopped on his bike and made the trek to Stan’s. Stan didn’t sleep well after. He didn’t really sleep at all. His bedroom light was on and Stan opened the window when Richie climbed up onto the tree beside it as if Stan had been waiting for him. The nightmares bled out of his head and they both slept as Richie told Stan about how he didn’t want to be forgotten, how he didn’t want to fade from people’s memories like all those faded gravestones in the Cemetery and Stan told Richie all about what he saw in the Deadlights.

Richie would sit on the fire escape and tap Bev’s window out-of-view and she would open it some minutes later with her smokes and a pack of matches and they’ll talk about things. Beverly talks about Ben but no one knows what Richie talks about. Something important, probably.

Then, lastly, some months after the sewer, it was Eddie. Richie threw rocks up at Eddie’s window and Eddie asked him what he wanted, “Let me in, Eds. Open the front door,” And Eddie did. Richie’s face was red and puffy and his eyes were ringed much the same.

“Have you been crying?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah, I saw your Mom in the shower,” Richie replied, voice taut with sniffles.

“That’s frickin’ disgusting.”

“Yeah, it really was.”

Eddie knew something had happened - he wasn’t slow. He knew Richie didn’t go to Ben’s with tears in his eyes or sneak through Bill’s window with a sad, faraway look on his face. Eddie knew that if Richie wanted to talk about it, he would. But he wouldn’t want to talk about it - Richie breezes over difficult questions with clever quips and silly voices and Eddie pretends he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

So it went on like that. Every so often, Richie would throw a pebble at Eddie’s window and Eddie - without looking - would flutter downstairs and unlock the back door to a subdued Richie who would ruffle his hair with a sad, wet smile.

There had to be a line to how much Eddie would ignore. And one day, he found it.

It wasn’t nighttime, it was barely three in the afternoon when he heard a familiar thump on his bedroom window. Eddie opened it and shouted that the door was open, come on up. Eddie barely had time to put away the deck of cards he was playing with before Richie all but slammed open his door. He shot about two feet in the air. “Hey!”

“Sorry, I’ve been working out.”

“Jerking off doesn’t count,” Eddie said, putting his cards on his bedside locker, when Richie didn’t reply he took a look at him, but his head was low and he couldn’t see his face, “What’s wrong.”

“Nothing.”

“Richie.”

Richie sat down on the bed after kicking the door closed and flopped backwards, nearly collapsing onto Eddie’s lap. Eddie barely choked back his cry of shock when he saw the state of him. A smash of blood from his nose, exploded onto his Freese’s tee. His glasses cracked and warped and his eyes an angry shade of purple - visible even through the cracked coke-bottle glass. “Take a wild fuckin’ guess.”

“Bill finally had enough of you imitating his stutter?” Eddie joked, even as he moved forward to get a closer look.

“Nah,” He said, lifting his glasses off to clean them, but Eddie took them out of his hand and set them out of reach, “Asked your Mom to sit on my face.”

Eddie gave his cheek a light slap, “Beep-beep.” The more Eddie looked at Richie’s face, the worse it looked. His lip was busted open and he had scratches and gravel all up the side of his cheek, like roadburn. Richie didn’t meet his eyes as Eddie looked over him, but he did wince when Eddie brushed some of the gravel off of his cuts. The air was steady and Richie seemed content in sitting in silence, but Eddie couldn’t leave it there. He’d found his line and this was it. “Bowers?”

Richie stiffened under him, “Bowers didn’t sit on my face but thanks for that image.” Again with the deflection.

“Richie, I’m serious, okay - stop fucking about.”

“I didn’t come here for a fucking lecture!” Richie said suddenly, whipping himself up into a sitting position only to let out a wheeze of pain and fall straight back down with a groan, “I can’t move right now but emotionally I’m storming out and slamming the door,” Richie winced as he touched his nose and groaned in pain.

“So it was Bowers?” He didn’t quip back at Richie. It was no fun when he was rolling about in pain.

“Yes.” Richie’s voice was a little nasally and gurgled. He sat up a little and blood came trickling down his nose and into his mouth. Eddie wretched and threw a box of tissues at him. Richie got through about six before his nose stopped bleeding again.

“Are you hurt?”

Richie stared at him blankly, “No.”

“Then why are there bruises all over your face?”

“He loaded me with sedatives before he beat my shit into the pavement.”

Eddie huffed and shuffled towards Richie and tore the tissue from his nose, “Stop being an ass. I’m trying to help, Rich and I don’t need you running your mouth and being a sarcastic asshole when I’m doing it. Sit there, don’t touch anything or …. bleed on anything. I’m gonna go and get some stuff from the first aid kit.”

“Hey, Eds?” Richie piped up in a soft voice as Eddie was about to leave the room. The softness of his voice caught him off guard and he didn’t have the heart to tell him not to call him that.

“Yeah, Rich?”

“One of your tampons should fit up my nose, it’ll stop the bleeding, right?”

“No - but I could see if my knuckle will fit up your nose - want to find out?”“Nah,” Richie pointed at his nose - “Henry already tried.”

Eddie got the things he needed from the first aid kit and brought Richie into his bathroom and locked the door. Richie was sat on the toilet seat, with Eddie leaning over a little to get a good angle to dab at Richie’s nose with a wet wipe. The blue-ish tint from the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom only made Eddie’s gut fall, more than he had expected really. Maybe it was the sad look in Richie’s eyes, too. “Why did he do this?” Eddie muttered, not really a direct question, but one Richie answered nonetheless.

“Cause I’m a faggot,” The matter-of-fact way Richie said it made Eddie’s stomach lurch.

That word - or anything related to being gay, really - always set Eddie on edge, always made him paranoid and his hair stand up on the back of his neck. Like there was a monster standing behind him, breathing rotten breath on his neck that would unhinge its jaw and swallow him whole if he even thought about other boys. The tone that Richie said that threw him off enough to ask, “Are you?”

Richie looked from the wet wipe, covered in Richie’s blood, that Eddie had moved away from his face a little, to Eddie and back to the wet wipe, “No. It was a joke.”

Eddie caught Richie looking at his own blood and felt sick, “I don’t think gays have AIDs - I saw the way you were looking at me. Anyone can get it - I read all these journals about it and it’s a disease. It doesn’t pick who it infects. Did you see Princess Diana shook hands with a patient? It’s terrible, don’t get me wrong but it’s not as contageous as the news is saying, and it’s definately not a ‘homosexual disease’ and-”

“You think I’m gay?” Richie cut him off.

“I - no. I don’t. I wouldn’t care if you were, though, for the record. I wouldn’t care if any of the losers were,” Eddie said, words rushing into each other as he spoke quickly, moving back to dab at Richie’s nose. It was hard to concentrate with the way Richie was looking at him. Like he was examining him.

“Are you?” Eddie flinched like he’d been shot when Richie asked that and he didn’t mean to physically take a step back. He opened and closed his mouth but nothing could come out. Nothing will come out - he’s fuckin’ sure of that, “I wouldn’t care either, you know.”

“Okay.” Eddie forced out.

“Okay.” Richie said.

They both agonised in the silence. Both a little wild-eyed like hares in headlights at each other. Richie’s face was clean of blood now. His shirt was still ruined but he didn’t look quite like he’d just gotten out of a bar fight now. He looked a lot better. Richie always looked kinda good, Eddie thought. The thought always embarrassed him. Richie was a bit strange looking, with a short face and his awful glasses and giant teeth that Richie insists he’ll grow into, but Eddie could never help the way his stomach lit when Richie laughed - or even when Richie pinched his cheeks and called him cute.

Richie thought the same thing. With Eddie and the way he was so quick to rile up, going from placid to in a rage at the drop of a hat. The way Eddie, all five-foot-three of him, kicked a fucking demon clown square in the snotter. When Eddie got his cast re-done because he got his ruined in greywater and he asked Richie to help re-write the LOSER on it. Eds sure was cute. The cutest fuckin powerhouse in all of Derry.

“I am.” Richie said suddenly, like a bubble bursting and suddenly his world was bigger. No longer closed in on himself, “I’m gay.”

Eddie looked like he’d seen a ghost and the wet wipe fell from his hand, “Yeah. Yeah, uh - okay. Me too.”

Richie blew a huge sigh of relief. A massive weight off of his shoulders. Although, when he looked at Eddie he didn’t feel the same radiating off of him. Eddie looked like he was about to either cry or pull a Johnny Twango and go mad, “You okay?” Eddie shook his head, not lifting his eyes off of the bathroom floor, which had suddenly gotten very interesting, what craftsmanship.

Richie pulled Eddie’s hand into his own, “Scared?” Eddie nodded, “I’m scared too.” Eddie finally willed himself to pull his eyes off of the incredible craftsmanship of the bathroom tiles and met Richie’s eyes, soft and vulnerable, “Scared together?”

“Scared together.” Richie squeezed Eddie’s hand and Eddie squeezed back. Eddie’s eyes widened suddenly and his hands shot up to Richie’s face, Richie flinched and looked up in confusion, “Your nose is broken, I’m gonna set it,” Eddie said and pinched Richie’s nose - Richie’s eyes blew open and he voiced his distress but they were cut short before Richie had the chance to push Eddie away as a loud CRACK sounded out into the air.

“YOU PIECE OF SHIT - THAT FUCKING HURT.”

Eddie laughed and laughed and laughed before he wiped the tears from his eyes as Richie was still complaining and groaning in pain, “That’s payback for my arm, dipshit.”

#hehe fank you #THIS is the first time ive written reddie so be nice #REDDIE #*fic #Anonymous

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1mfa0 · 5 years ago

Text

Oh fuck

Fandom : IT

Characters (as of right now) : Riche, Eddie and Bev

Word count : 2068

Warnings (as of right now) : Excessive swearing, kissing, implied sex, and alcohol

Summary : Don't wanna spoil nothin but it's the summer before senior year and Richie and Eddie get drunk at a party. Shit happens, and then life gets a lil wacky

Disclaimer : I have never really written anything before but I had a lot of fun with this so I hope you like it!

---

Richie has been Eddie's best friend for as long as he could remember. They did everything together and they still do. Practically inseparable.. that was until the incident the summer before their senior year of high school.

It was a crisp summer afternoon in Derry maine, Eddie and Richie were getting ready at Richie's house for Bevs “end of summer” party later that night. It was supposed to be more of an inner circle gathering but Richie and Bev wanted summer to go out with a bang so they had a little surprise bruing for the losers.

“Hey eds!” richie yelled to eddie from the bathroom walking out in just a towel holding up two almost identical hawinin shirts.

“Which one looks better?”

Eddie looked up at him only to immediately look away, his face turned beet red, richie had really grown into his looks over the years.

“Uh-um the blue one.” he replied

“Cool cool” riche went back into the bathroom to continue getting dressed. When he came out he was wearing blue jeans perfectly cuffed with a white tee and the shirt Eddie had picked out.

“Now it's your turn spaghetti,”

“I think i'm fine with what have on right now thank you very much, and don't call me that”

“Awe common eds, you gotta loosen up a little bit, let go summer is almost over we have to make the most of it”

“And that requires me changing my clothes, I think you just wanna see me undress trashmouth” he shot Richie wink and a smile.

“AA you caught me!” Richie yelled as he jumped on his bed right next to where Eddie was sitting and pinned him down pretending like he was going to kiss him.

Eddie could feel his face getting hot again, hating himself for how that statement backfired on him like that.

“Ah-uh fuck you richie get off of me!”

“Only if you agree to dress up spaghetti” he said while leaning in closer as if he was threatening to kiss him if he didn’t.

“FINE whatever just get the fuck off of me” he said pushing richie away even thought he knows he wouldnt have been able to push riche off of him if he didnt let him.

Richie handen Eddie a pair of his older jeans that are too small for him now, a button down shirt and sent him away to the bathroom to get dressed. After a couple minutes Eddie walked out. He looked pretty cute, Richie thought. Like richie, eddie had also grown into his looks (he just don't have the growth spurt richie had)

“Ok can we go now please?”

“Yes we can, and i'm driving! My dad said I could take his car!”

“There is know fucking way I am getting into a car with you behind the wheel richie, you drive crazy remember what happened the other week! And anyways I'm the designated driver remember?”

“Awe common eddie Im not even drunk yet, please let me drive you,” he said with puppy eyes.

“agh fine.” Eddie didn’t feel like fighting richie on this, he just wanted to get going so he could go home and sleep. He had been really stressed lately and didnt feel like going and seeing everyone. The only person that knows is richie but he had the idea that getting out of the house is just what he needs.

---

It's around 8:00pm and they finally arrive at Bev's house.

“I thought this was gonna be inner circle only,” eddie whined to Richie as they maneuvered through the crowded doorway, making their way to Bev

“I don't know what happened eds, I guess somehow everyone at school heard about the party somehow” Bev winked at richie.

“Of course you're involved,” eddie rolled his eyes at him,

As the night dragged on everyone seemed to be having a jolly old time except for Eddie who was sitting at the counter drinking a cherry cola. RIchie seemed to be having a blast, drinking too much and dancing with girls. In this moment Eddie is not sure what comes over him be he says fuck it and throws caution too the wind. After he's had a couple of beers in him, and he runs into Richie, after avoiding him the whole time, who is equally and if not more wasted then eddie.

“EDUARDO! Finally decided to join the fun didn’t you?!”

“Richie I wanna go home.”

It's around 10:30 and Richie typically likes to stay as late as they can but when he saw that look in Eddie's eyes.

“Ok Eds whatever you say, go get our coats and I’ll tell Bev we are leaving”

Riche gives Bev a quick peck on the cheek and says goodnight for the both of them. Stumbling through the hallway threw all the people Richie couldn't help thinking that he really shouldn't be driving, but neither should eddie. It will be fine. It's late the roads are almost empty here during the day anyways.

By the time Richie got out to the car Eddie was already sitting quietly in the passenger's seat. Richie slipped in putting on his seatbelt and turning on the radio, but not too loud.

“Here's your jacket, I couldn't find mine..” Eddie said, holding up richies leather jacket he wears with almost every outfit, he loved that thing so much.

“Yeah know what Eds you can wear it if you want, im fine and I know you get cold easily and i-”

Richie stopped when he noticed Eddie had already started putting his jacket on. He looked absolutely adorable in it, and the arms were way too long on him.

The drive home was quiet. Not in an awkward way, but in a, we can appreciate each other and the silence simultaneously. By the time they arrived at Eddie's house he was completely turned away from Richie, he slowly parked across the street so hopefully Eddie's mom wouldn’t see them arriving.

“Hey Eds we are here,” He said as they both started getting out of the car.

Riche always did that, he never just dropped him off he always walked him right up to the door.

“Alright goodnight spaghetti, I hope you feel better,” as he started back to his car he could hear Eddie's footsteps coming back towards him so he turned around.

“Ok Eddie, what's your deal are you ok-” Eddie cut him off with a hug, Richie was surprised. It's not like they never hug but richie is typically the one that initiates it.

“Oh Eds..” He could hear him start to cry even with his face muffed against richies chest. He held him tighter

“I don't wanna go back in t-there with her rich.. I just-”

“No no, Eds it's ok lets just go to my house, you don't have to explain yourself to me” He said wiping the tears off Eddie's face.

Richie whips him around and holds his hand as they walk back to the car, Eddie could feel himself stumbling, he’d never really be drunk before so he was pretty out of it. They both climb back into the car and start to get systuated.

“Before we go..” Richie said with his hands on the wheel. “I just want you know know Eds that you never have too keep anything from me and if you're hurting you should let me because you my best friend and I lov-”

Cutting riche off with perfect timing Eddie leaned and kissed Richie right on the lips. Richie was shocked and Eddie pulled away,

“I'm sorry I have know idea what that was, I just..”

Rich looked at Eddie for a moment with an almost no expression of emotion on his face. Then all of the sudden he pulled Eddie by the collar back onto him and pressed his lips against eddies.

“Oh richie”

---

Eddie shot up out of bed,

“Oh fuck,” he whispered to himself. His hangover was so bad he couldn't remember much of the night after leaving the party. After rubbing his eyes and bringing himself into reality he started to take in his surroundings.

“Oh fuck. oh fuck. oh fuck”

“Shuuussshhhhhhh” he heard a voice coming from the other side of the bed “im still fucking sleeping asshole”

But suddenly Riche shot straight up, still turned away from eddie.

“um-”

“Richie, um- are you naked?” Eddie said with his eyes shut tightly.

“Yes- uh eddie are you-”

“Yes.”

Which was true except one thing. Eddie was still wearing richies leather jacket.

“Oh fuck”

“NO FUCKING WAY. nope nope” richie jumped out of bed and once eddie heard the bathroom door close he finally opened his eyes again. trying to find his clothes from yesterday when Richie made him change but he couldn't so he just grabbed a pair of richies running shorts and one of his T-shirts.

The bathroom door swung open. Richie was still fucking naked

“RICHIE WHAT THE FUCK. PUT YOUR FUCKING DICK AWAY!”

Before he was able to close his eyes again he couldn't help but notice the nickeys on richie's neck that were not there the day before.

“Shut the fuck up eddie my mom is still asleep across the hall.” he said in a hushed tone while putting his shirt and boxers.

“Oh fuck” Eddie said while rubbing his eyes “it's all coming back too me, fuck”

Riche was pacing back and forth from the bathroom.

“Well aren't you gonna say something?” Eddie said with anger in his voice.

“Well geez Eds, sorry I don’t really the proper reaction to fucking your BEST FRIEND!”

“Richie you don't know that we-”

Richie glared at him. Eddie was bright red, but he didn't look away this time. He walked up to Richie and got in his face.

“Just because we don’t want to, doesn't mean we can’t talk about this, we need to talk about this..” he said calmly while he slid his hand into richies and squeezed it tight.

They both sat down alongside each other on the floor against the wall. All the memories and details of last night just flooding back into their heads.

“You kissed me” richie said laughing

“Whatever dickwad you kissed me back.”

---

As the last couple weeks of summer were coming to an end Eddie and Richie only saw each other when all the losers got together instead of almost everyday like before. And instead of staying over at richies to avoid his mom, Eddie had been staying with beverly.

“Eddie are you ever gonna talk to richie again?” She said to him one morning as they were having breakfast.

“What do you mean bev? Me and richie talk all the time” he said, which was not a lie but it was also a stretch.

“You know what I mean Eddie, maybe if you would just tell me what happened I could help.”

“no never”

“Oh common eddie, it couldn't have been that bad of a fight. What did you fuck or something?” she laughed at the audacity of her statement.

Eddie almost choked on his bagel.

“Oh my god, eddie- DID YOU AND RICHIE F-”

He shot her a look “BEVERLY SHUT UP. KNOW OF COURSE WE DIDN’T”

“I knew it, I fucking KNEW you to where gay for eachother.” she proclaimed with pride.

“What the fuck do you mean you knew we where-” he said defensively.

“Who came on to who?” she said excitedly

Eddie looked away from her and she jumped for joy at the lack of his response.

“Oh my god! EDDIE YOU CAME ON TOO HIM?! Now there's a twist-”

“OH shut the fuck up beverly, if anything is a TWIST, the twist is that I fucking fucked my best friend”

“HA SO YOU ADMIT TO IT!”

“Oh fuck you. Like really, fuck you”

They laughed and the rest of the morning Bev forced Eddie to tell her the whole story. By now he remembers it all.

“And now we are here, he doesn’t know how to act when we are alone anymore and honestly neither do I.. so we have just been taking a break I guess. I'm just- it's all so confusing and I don't know what to do.”

“Well do you like him like that?”

“That's the problem bev, I mean I love him but we were drunk.. What if that's the only reason it happened.”

To be continued.

---

Notes :

I'm gonna keep writing but i'm not sure if I wanna wrap it up or keep going. So we will see, I guess!

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kaspbrak-tozier-reddie · 5 years ago

Note

So apparently Richie is like a modern e-boy but can you write a fic where both he and Eddie are like soft boys?

Oh dang, anon! A modern!AU coming your way!

Warnings: mentions of drug use, Sonia’s great parenting

Send quote or prompt and I’ll write a fic

—————————————

As soon as he hears what and E-Boy is, Richie is quick to change his style, getting rid of his black jeans and graphic tees (obviously keeping his band tees). Richie had given up smoking years ago and he was glad he did, he’s much better than he was back in high school. Richie had refused to try vaping from Bev or take any more weed. He wanted to be clean, even if that meant going cold turkey on the things that gave him comfort and especially the potential lung cancer.

Swapping his emo look for a more colourful look isn’t easy, living for the dark colours and the eyeliner. It comforts him.

It isn’t like he’s going completely soft, he still listens to his AC/DC and Guns n Roses CDs. Plus his My Chemical Romance and Nirvana CDs. It’s just the outside look that’s changing, maybe this way he can actually make some friends at college! Instead of shying away in his dorm room every night and day.

That’s just what he does. He sits down beside some boy (around his age) that he’s seen talking to his best friends, Stan and Bill. “Hi, Eddie right?” Richie asks the shorter brunette in a pastel pink polo shirt and jeans.

“Yeah, Richie?” Eddie asks, Richie nods and throws his backpack his feet and sits beside the other boy. “What’s with the new getup?”

“I was being labelled as an E-Boy tiktoker but I’m not so I opted for a change,” Richie explains.

“I kinda miss the grunge look.” Richie feels his cheeks heat up a little and hopes that his blush isn’t obvious. “But I’m really digging this, it’s hot.”

Is he seriously outwardly flirting with me? Richie thinks, no, that can’t be.

There isn’t the slightest possibility that Eddie is attracted to the ‘new’ look. He has to just be complimenting him on the new style, Eddie is an obviously straight man, right? He has his girlfriend sitting right next to him, so he has to be straight, or at least Bi! Right?! RIGHT?!

Richie doesn’t focus on the lecture but on his panicking thoughts, completely overthinking the interaction only seconds before. He starts to tap his foot to the rhythm of ‘Should I Stay or Should I Go?’ Thinking of just leaving the lecture hall and potentially throwing up from the panic, or maybe the gay panic as some memes say.

Maybe changing from an E-boy to a Soft boy was just a huge mistake! He can still be an E-boy without the cancer sticks, right? But he doesn’t want to be an E-boy or an Emo anymore, he wants to be the old Richie who wore shitty Hawaiian shirts day in day out.

The one that cracked jokes about mom’s and his dick.

The one that got straight A’s and helped out at the dentist that his dad owned.

Richie wishes that the times were different, back before the bullying drove him away to a state over and took up smoking and marijuana. Sure he met Bev but she wasn’t the same as Bill or Stan, he missed those lunatics. Well, that was until he found out that he was going to NYU with them.

With that being said, Richie pushes himself out of the seat and towards the exit, almost throwing up in the process.

Once he manages to get up to his dorm room, he immediately throws up in the ensuite bathroom since Stan basically forced the three of them to get a large suite with an ensuite didn’t want to share a bathroom with anyone. It is more expensive but the suite allowed for a third person and they immediately said ‘Bill’.

“Oh sorry ‘ill, didn’ see ya dere,” Richie says with mouthful emerging from the bathroom with a toothbrush sticking out from his mouth.

“You feeling okay Rich?” Bill asks, Richie throws up a finger to tell Bill to wait as he spits out the toothpaste that was accumulating as he brushed.

“Uh no. I think Eddie flirted with me.” Bill cocks an eyebrow in confusion before starting to laugh. “What’s funny Big Bill?”

“It’s so obvious he’s straight and you’re reading too much into it because you haven’t had a boyfriend in, - wait, you’ve never had a boyfriend.”

“Yes, thank you so much for pointing it out! I’m a 19-year-old virgin, I get it!”

Richie huffs and sits down on his bed. Maybe Bill’s right. Maybe he is overthinking the interaction just because he’s desperate for someone to like him. That has to be the simplest explanation.

He just sits there for 5 minutes, thinking, thinking about Eddie, thinking about himself. Sure Eddie is cute, they’ve never spoken a word before today but he had seen Eddie around campus and in the common area of their dorm. Not to mention in a couple of classes and seeing him talk to Bill and/or Stan. This crush starts to build more and more but Eddie has a girlfriend that Bill swears looks like Eddie’s mum.

“Richie, I feel your panic vibes. What is it now?”

“I’m going to talk to Eddie.”

Bill sits at his desk dumbfounded, watching Richie get up from his bed and rush towards the door, but he’s unsure if he should be stopping Richie or not. The thought of Richie getting his hopes up and getting hurt… it isn’t what he wants.

****

As he walks towards Eddie’s dorm room (he mentally thanks Stan’s loud mouth), he thinks about what ‘soft boys’ do. If E-Boys, wear dark colours, smoke/vape, basically be emo; then what do soft boys do? Maybe be sweet, gentlemen-like? Richie doesn’t know, all he knows is emo. He worships the colour black and the whole My Chemical Romance movement. He loves heavy metal and the 70s and 80s music, well era in general.

He makes note that most of his old clothes, yes were ‘soft boy’ shit but were also vintage, like what his dad wore during the 70s and 80s. Is there such a thing as a vintage boy? Richie thinks, probably not.

Richie finally makes it to Eddie’s dorm room and he knocks lightly hoping that it is loud enough for the short brunette to hear.

“Richie? What are you doing here?” Eddie asks as he opens his door and Richie immediately found the floor interesting, keeping his vision locked onto the wooden strips.

“I uh - I just wanted to apologise for running out of the lecture like that,” Richie explains. It wasn’t exactly a lie, he did feel guilty for running out like that but the crush on the boy in front of him overpowered his senses, causing him to start an anxiety attack.

“I think I know why.” Richie snaps his head up, locking his eyes with Eddie’s, he feels his eyelids pull open as far as they can go. What is happening?

“Uh? How? What?” Richie starts to stammer on his wording not sure how to form a sentence. After 19 years, he has finally been made to shut up without being “beeped” or told to shut up; this is completely voluntary.

“I too have had a crush on you. You’re kinda hard to not notice in all that black. As much as I love the change, you’re such a hot emo.”

Richie can’t believe what he’s hearing, he’s practically jumping for joy, but he’s kicked back to his senses when he sees a photo on the wall. It’s Eddie and his girlfriend at some fancy college event. “But don’t you have a girlfriend?”

“No, she’s just a friend but she’s kinda obsessed with me and won’t let me be my true gay self.”

“So that’s why Bill’s so adamant on you being straight.” It all makes sense now, no wonder why Eddie cringes when the girl loops her arm around his waist or when she tries to kiss him, he pulls away.

“Yeah, everyone thinks that. Myra just has my ma’s way of thinking. ‘Those homosexuals have aids Eddie-bear, they’ll infect those with weak immune systems’.” Richie starts to laugh. “She was the worst, tried to make me go to a community college and then she forced me to date, Myra because I told her I was gay.”

“Sounds like the absolute worst.”

Eddie nods and sits on his bed and signals for Richie to join him. Richie shyly walks towards the bed, sitting down awkwardly an arm’s length away from Eddie. The boy beside him gives him a look and he scoots closer to him, his long lanky legs outstretched in front of him.

It’s an awkward silence, the two boys sit in silence facing the opposite wall. Richie needs to make a move, Eddie made the first one back in that lecture hall, so he needs to think of something and fast.

Richie scoots a little closer so that their hips are basically touching, his arm goes around Eddie’s waist, pulling him closer. “I’ve had a crush on you as well.” Richie swears he hears Eddie’s breathing hitch. Thinking he made a mistake, he pulls away but Eddie holds him back.

“You know the ‘soft-boy persona won’t suit you,” Eddie says. “It means you act all sweet but really you’re a fuck boy. Just from meeting you today and from what Bill and Stan have told me about you, you’re too sweet to be an asshole.”

“So you prefer my emo look?”

“Did you change for me?!”

Richie laughs and shakes his head. “God! If I did someone needed to shoot me. No, I found this.” Richie points to his Hawaiian shirt. “Back at home and decided to dress like I used to. Band tees are still part of that, but I’m going back to the old Richie.”

Eddie smiles and looks up at Richie. “Tell me, what does the old Richie entail, and what made you say goodbye to the new Richie?”

So Richie tells him about his childhood, the bullying, the ‘mom’ jokes, the fact that he was a repressed gay geek that was more often than not seen at the arcade playing Street Fighter. He was a happy kid who chilled in his bright Hawaiian shirts (that were 3 sizes too big) and matching undershirts often paired with shorts or jeans. His coke bottle glasses always falling down the bridge of his nose.

Life was simpler back then.

He further explained that when he was finally driven out of the town and to a state over, he met Beverly who was a complete and utter badass. She was the one that introduced him to more music than just Nirvana, Led Zepplin, Guns n Roses, AC/DC and Queen. Richie’s music taste developed tremendously, so his clothing palate became dark.

She opened his eyes to the beauty of weed and tobacco, not to mention beer. She was his first and only friend at his new school, a real beauty, the only one that knew his secret other than Stan and Bill.

It wasn’t until junior year that he realised that smoking was a cancer stick, sure he knew beforehand but he didn’t want to waste his life away. So by the time that vaping became a thing at the end of senior year, he had fully quit and was offered a puff from Bev’s Juul and Richie refused.

****

“Wow. Didn’t pin you as a smoker,” Eddie says after 5 minutes of letting everything sink in.

“Please don’t hate me, I know you’re a health nut,” Richie says.

“I could never. I’m glad you stopped.”

Richie smiles to himself but dragging out a thought if he didn’t actually stop smoking. Would Eddie have turned the other way and refused to talk to him? Richie doesn’t want to be thinking about that but the thought continues circles around his head.

He can feel another anxiety attack coming on but he can’t excuse himself because then the boy that’s hugging him will know that something is wrong. Richie tries to relax and push the negative thoughts away.

The two fell into another awkward silence unsure of where to go from there, but the ball is now in Eddie’s court. “So Eds, tell me more about you. I just told you how I have always been a secret softie,” Richie says.

That opens a flood gate of all possible topics to tell Richie so he stays on the topic of how his mother made him into a hypochondriac and made him into a repressed gay.

Needless to say, Richie is starting to get weirded out by the fact that he’s in Eddie’s dorm room hugging or really cuddling the smaller boy and the two of them acknowledging that they have a crush on one another but saying nothing about it.

Richie doesn’t want to say anything in case Eddie isn’t -

“Rich, what are we doing?” Eddie asks. “We’ve been sitting here for an hour.”

“Well, do you want this to be a date or just a couple of friends hanging out?” Richie prompts.

“I don’t know.”

“If you want to figure things out beforehand -” Richie’s cut off by Eddie’s lips. It’s over as quick as it began, not giving Richie the time to react.

“I’m ready to be my true self. If you can do it, I can.” Eddie smiles. “Wanna come down to the admin office, I have a major to change.”

“Going badass on me now?”

Eddie smirks and kisses Richie again, this time Richie’s prepared and immediately kisses him back.

#reddie #richie x eddie #eddie x richie #edward kaspbrak #eddie kaspbrak #richard tozier #richie tozier #trashmouth #eds #eddie spaghetti #it chapter 1 #it chapter 2

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