#richie tozier is pretty damn stupid | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

soulwillower · 4 years ago

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tozier • bill denbrough

(bill denbrough x tozier!reader smut)

requested: okay so once regular requests open, here’s my idea. so the reader and richie are siblings and they absolutely hate each other and to get under his sisters skin, he fucks her best friend. so in sheer anger she decides to fuck all of his

warnings: underage drinking, very flirty bill denbrough, smut, oral (male receiving), a teeny bit of deepthroating, fingering, switch bill, unprotected sex, praise kink, a teeeeeny bit of a pain kink i guess but i think that’s it. unedited

part 5 of the tozier series [ i ii iii iv ]

(losers and reader are 20+ and in college in this)

5.7k words

♡

when richie had galloped into your room to tell you that the losers were coming over, you’d just shrugged it off and nodded your head - you were used to your brother’s friends being around. honestly, now it didnt ever bother you because despite the pain in the ass that he is, your brother sure knew how to pick a friend or two (or six).

you’re thinking about that as you pad into your kitchen, face on the floor until you see richie’s legs sat backwards in a chair.

“hiya.” richie greets you with a two-fingered salute as you look up. you open your mouth to respond but your breathing is cut short when you look to the right, where bill denbrough stands in all his stupid sexy glory in the middle of your kitchen, toying with a lighter as he meets your eyes.

bill. oh god.

“hey, y/n.” he says with a soft grin, his green eyes alight with joy as he tosses his lighter to richie, who catches it swiftly.

you try your hardest to not fucking blush because damn it, all he said was “hi” and you’re honest to god 3 seconds away from taking off all of your clothes and leaping onto him. or vomiting in the sink - maybe both. for some reason, bill always makes you feel hot, no matter how old you get and how many of his friends you bone.

“h-hi bill, how are you?” you ask back, cursing your nervous stutter. richie, who has apparently decided to throw caution to the wind and smoke openly in your kitchen instead of going out back to the yard, chuckles through his lit cig. “aw, you’re startin' to sound like him, sis.”

you shoot richie an alarmed look, "that's a bit rude." you say and richie shrugs it off, wiggling his stupid bony hand at you, “nah c’mon, it’s so cute!” he insists and you just turn even redder.

“n-no, he’s right.” bill mutters with another goddamn smile and your chest flutters with butterflies as you make eye contact. “but i’m doing really good, thanks. how are you, y/n? are you going to come w-with us tonight?”

you and richie both look at the boy standing casually at your kitchen counter, his eyes innocent as he pops a blackberry between his plush lips. you have to tear your eyes from him because he’s staring at you expectantly and you think you might fucking combust.

bill denbrough, your brother’s best friend, was very hot. obviously. he had always been sweet - when you were all in middle school you remember bill always being kind albeit dismissive when you would see him at your house in passing.

but puberty smacked into bill like a fucking freight train, just as it did to you and your brother and all of his friends, and bill was a borderline god now. it was completely un-fucking-fair, because you swear sometime between when richie slept with your best friend and now, you went from barely batting an eye when the boy was around your house to blushing when he so much as looked at you and waking up in a sweat after having a dream of him sneaking into your room from richie’s and fucking the daylights out of you.

totally, completely un-fucking-fair.

but sometimes, you kind of thought bill saw you in the same way you saw him. sometimes.

it was there in the way bill’s eyes would meet yours; it was there in his gentle words and sharp laughter whenever stan or your brother made a stupid joke and bill was three beers into the night, the way he’d immediately look for you every time he did so.

you’re pretty sure it was there most of the time - even before you started on this quest of sorts to get back at richie, because it's not like you weren't thinking about richie's friends before you started this whole thing. and bill has always been the boy next door, the friend that your mom always gushed about even from a young age; he's just grown into his looks so quickly in the five years since you were in middle school.

and that, in itself, is the real reason why you’re thrown by bill’s insistence that you join the rest of the group tonight - you can count on your hands the amount of times that bill denbrough has asked you to hang out. it's not like he doesn't like you, but it's more like he doesn't care if you're there either way. and you hate to say it, but that nonchalant attitude makes your thighs clench every time he smirks when you walk into the room.

“i mean, sure, that's cool.” you say neutrally, feeling way shier than you ought to when, at the same time, you’re watching bill crack his knuckles and all you can think about is him sliding his fingers deep inside of you.

“we're going to kiera gross's party.” bill says with barely any interest as he picks another blackberry out, and yes you are blushing again so you turn to look at your brother instead. you really didnt want to piss rich off, but if bill denbrough was insisting you go with them tonight...

he shrugs, "whatever, just don't be a bitch." he says with a playful grin. "oh, and don't get too flustered tonight, y/n. you know, cuz stan's coming." richie says in tease, making you flush. "shut up, richie." you hiss, shoving his shoulder and sneaking a glance at bill, whose expression is unreadable as he stares between you and your brother.

you'd had a small crush on stan when you were kids, which had weaned off eventually, but it used to be fairly obvious. stan was so funny and intelligent and admittedly very hot, but he and especially richie still tease you about it occasionally, which is very mortifying. you don't know why you're so flustered that bill knows - it's not like he'd care for any reason, and he's too nice to really tease you about it too much anyways, and it's not like he hasn't heard them tease you about it before.

you're just embarrassed.

"okay. yeah, i remember her. i'll come." you mutter, toying with the hem of the shirt you're wearing and smiling at bill. you feel hot under his gaze and your legs clench together just at the way his fingers tap against the counter. god.

"y/n, what the hell, 's that my shirt?" richie pipes up, switching the subject with brows furrowed as you blink. "i don't know what you're talking about." you say, trying to feign innocence as you grin at the two boys in front of you. richie scowls, "c'mon, stop stealing my shit!" he whines and you shrug, glaring at him, "stop stealing my weed, then."

"take it off." he grumbles, crossing his arms, and you scoff.

"big deal, rich, you have so many other shirts." you reason as you walk over to fill up a glass of water. "no, y/n, it's mine. take it off!" he insists, and you sigh, making eye contact with bill from across the counter.

"fine!" you snap, getting a sly idea in your head. a very bold idea, one that will be perfect to piss richie off. so you start to lift the shirt up from off your frame, lifting a pointed brow at richie as his eyes widen and he rushes towards you.

"no, no! jesus, don't fuckin' do that." he yelps. bill's chuckling and you can't help but look up at him, flushing under his smirk as he lifts his brows playfully at you. he looks so hot as he smirks down at you, his eyes trailing down to where your fingers still have the hem of the shirt lifted up slightly.

"i-i wouldn't mind." bill says quietly, a glint in his eyes that immediately makes you flush, your stomach flipping around at his words as you tear your gaze away, feeling the adrenaline rush from your brother's anger and bill's attention. your heart stops at his words and your stomach burns, butterflies fluttering around as a small giggle escapes your lips.

"bill, stop. fuck you. fuck both of you, actually." richie mutters, rolling his eyes and turning away from you both, putting out his cigarette on his shoe and standing to go throw it away. bill looks at you with red cheeks of his own, lifting a brow in tease as he looks at you.

"he was just joking, richie." you say with a smirk, ignoring how weak your legs feel. you grip the counter as you stare at bill, unsure where his boldness comes from but wondering if it's driven by the same reason you're acting up.

bill hums, smirking to himself as he pulls a few more blackberries and drops them in a bowl. "oh sure, c'mon trashmouth. i was j-just joking."

“william.” richie snaps and you raise your brows, confused but loving what was happening. you're slightly thrown off - having forgotten that bill's full name was william, but also because of the sharpness and warning tone in richie's voice.

“what?” bill asks with a laugh, looking up from the damn fruit carton as he stares richie down. it almost feels like a challenge, the way your brother is staring at bill, and you feel left out in a way that you don't really know if you want to be let in.

it's slightly tense and you’re shocked - richie is the kind of fucker who laughs at suave shit like that, but the more you think about how protective he is of his friends, the sooner you roll your eyes.

"oh....kay. i'm gonna- i'm gonna go." you say awkwardly, biting your lip. you hide your grin as you slip out of the kitchen, meeting eyes with bill as he winks subtly at you while richie shakes his head with a frustrated glare down at the lighter in his hands. "y/n," richie calls as he follows you down the hall.

you turn right at the base of the stairs, a smirk on your face. "what?" you snap. he glares at you. "don't do that shit in front of my friends, that's so fucked."

you stare at him, trying your hardest not to smile. you wonder if bill can hear you. "what? we were just teasing you, richie. i can't help it if your friends all want to fuck me."

he runs his hand over his face, groaning, "can you be quiet? bill probably heard that. and don't fuckin' joke about that. if you touch one of my friends i'll kill you." he snaps.

you shove him, completely floored that he could be so daft. "richie, you're still fucking my best friend! i hate you, why are you such an asshole?"

"whatever. stay away until we leave tonight." richie says as he turns to leave, holding up a middle finger as he stalks back towards the kitchen.

you didn't go back downstairs until you heard the others come in about forty five minutes later, spending most of your time getting ready and calming down after richie's stunt. you decided that tonight is the night you try and hit on bill. after grinning to yourself in the mirror and flattening your top against your chest, you make your way down from your room to find all of richie's friends lounging around the kitchen. of course, your eyes immediately find bill, who is still eating those damn blackberries. you chuckle.

"do you ever put those down?" you ask, causing him to pick up his head and chew slowly, grinning through a closed mouth as if he'd been caught red-handed. his eyes move up and down your figure and it makes your stomach flutter. he doesn't get the time to respond because richie's already herding everyone out the door. bev's winking at you, which makes your stomach flip, slinging an arm around your shoulder in greeting as you all file into stan's hatchback, mumbling about the girl's house whose party you're going to.

you spend the first two hours with bev and mike, playing pong and sipping casually on mixed drinks while you catch up with people you haven't seen since you graduated.

a while after, mike and bev start to play king’s cup. you opt out, instead deciding to go find some of the others. when you make your way to the kitchen, you find richie and stan taking body shots off of two girls you remember from your bio class junior year.

the sting of jealousy you get from the girl as she cards her fingers through stan's curls instantly makes you sour, shoving richie as you grab a mike's hard lemonade and crack it open on the counter.

"what's wrong with you?" richie mumbles, wiping his mouth as the girls walk away. stan smirks as he leans on the counter, his cheeks red. god, you hate being so horny. where's bill?

your eyes linger over the crowd and richie, always the asshole, takes the opportunity you'd accidentally just presented to him. "you sad stan the man isn’t taking body shots off of you? you’re not really his type, sorry.”

you gape at richie, feeling like you could murder him on the spot. you’re bright red, not daring to look at stan as he mutters, “richie, you’re a fucking asshole.”

you glare at your brother. “just trying to find the best thing to kill you with. i want you dead.”

"whatever, you don't need to be so sensitive." richie teases, craning his neck when somebody calls his name from the backyard. "sis, duty calls. catch you in a bit." he adds, his attention on your friend who'd just shown up and is waving richie over. the sight of her makes you roll your eyes at richie.

as the boys leave, stan nudges you, "don't listen to him, he just doesn’t like the idea of me liking you more than him. you're cute when you blush." he nudges your chin with his fingers and then laughs when you flush even more, turning and making his way through the crowd with a drunken goodbye.

jesus christ.

now that you're alone, you want to scream. your eyes roll back as you rub your face with a short sigh. what the fuck were you thinking, getting involved with ben, bev, mike, and eddie? and now bill? plus, what’s stan up to, since when was he such a flirt?

god, you're way over your head.

“a-are you okay?" the devil himself asks as he pads into the kitchen behind you, a smile on his face. great.

you sigh, shaking your head, "richie makes me so fucking mad sometimes." you say honestly, wary of talking shit about richie to his best friend. bill just nods, and you realize for a second you really let yourself think that richie's friends didn't know he was an asshole.

"you know,” bill smirks, “r-rich told me to stay away from you tonight.” bill just takes three steps closer, oh so slow, and it unintentionally backs you against the counter. your mouth goes dry, your body buzzing at the proximity. slowly, bill places his hands next to you and leans on the counter. “we should just get back at him to piss him off.” he mutters and your eyes widen, lips parting as you stare at him. "it's f-funny when he's mad."

your eyes bounce down to his lips, which are curled in a smirk and you breathe out shortly. "how do you suggest we do that?" you whisper, hands snaking around his shoulders and ignoring the pounding in your heart. he smirks, "d-don't know. what would piss him off the most?"

you grin, feigning innocence. "y'know... maybe if we just went into a room together right in front of him. he'd get somad." you say with a giggle. bill chuckles, turning back to see richie laughing loudly with your old friend by his side, telling some stupid story that was probably making everyone roll their eyes. "let's go, then." bill says, grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the kitchen, your face burning already at how easy that just was.

you pass the group of people that richie's in, and bill sends you a look before he taps a kid next to richie on the shoulder, effectively grabbing richie's attention. "h-hey, can you hold onto this drink? just for a bit?" bill says, handing him his cup. you follow bill's lead, handing your drink to your friend and asking her to hold onto it. "we'll be back in a bit." you say, sending her a wink and making richie furrow his brows.

you see his eyes follow you as bill grabs your hand and pulls you towards the closest room, his hand falling to your back as he ushers you into the room. as the door closes, you let out a bit of a laugh, shaking your head. you sit on the ground in the empty bedroom and bill follows, his knees grazing yours and making your stomach flip embarrasingly. he pulls out a deck of cards. "w-want to play something while we w-wait?"

you snort, realizing if you want to make richie suspicious you should at least stay in here for a bit. and it's not like you're complaining that you have to spend time alone with bill denbrough. "you want to play war?" you ask, looking at bill.

he nods and starts shuffling, handing you half the deck. "he's going to kill me." you mumble with a slight laugh. bill sends you a look. "he's going to kill m-me, not you." he says, shaking his head.

you laugh, "no, he's going to be furious. he's a bit hypocritical, he doesn't want me to have sex with you, let alone be nearyou, but he's probably going to take home my best friend again tonight."

bill hums, and that's when you realize how blunt you'd just been.

"he just d-doesn't like it when people have fun." bill says, lifting a brow as his voice goes lower. you turn slightly red as you make eye contact. "and it sounds like he kind of deserves it, anyways. i think if we had sex it would be a win-win."

you blink because wow, bill is much smoother than you expected. you look at him, his dark auburn brows rising above his half life eyes, which are trained on your lips. "then what's stopping us?" you say in a whisper, your heart pounding in your chest.

and just like that's you're kissing bill.

his lips are chapped and warm, strong against you as he pulls you closer by your neck. he smells amazing, and you surge up against him with a small sigh when his tongue brushes along your bottom lip. you're about to move over and straddle him, but a noise makes you pull away.

"out of the way!" you hear your brother's voice distinctly call muffled from behind the door and you jerk away from bill suddenly. he chuckles at you and you both pull yourselves together just as the door bursts open, richie standing at the doorway. you blink up at him with a smirk, the deck of cards in your hand as bill asks him innocently, "what's up, r-rich?"

"what the hell are you doing in here?" he snaps, looking between you with angry eyes. you snort, "we were going to play war. is that okay, dad?" you spit sarcastically. richie rolls his eyes, "get out. we're leaving anyways."

and he turns, leaving the door wide open as he tries to grab mike's attention. you meet bill's eyes and you both laugh awkwardly after having been interrupted, ignoring the red on your cheeks as you make your way towards the front of the house to meet up with the others.

richie acts like a toddler for the ride home, the streets at one in the morning empty as you all sing along terribly to the music stan plays. he's pouting and sending you and bill death glares from where the two of you sit in the trunk of the car, making you smirk to bill when richie looks away.

but after you've all gone to bed, you toss and turn in your room by yourself, unable to get bill off your mind. his lips, his hands on your neck and waist... after thirty minutes of debating, you finally pull yourself up and creep out of your room to find him in the basement with the others. you're not sure what your plan is, but luckily you don't have to finish it because you nearly run into him five steps away from your bedroom door.

"oh!" you say, jumping a bit in the dim lighting. "y/n." he says, looking surprised and guilty. "what're you doing up?" you say, letting out a breath as your heart rate jumps.

"can't sleep." bill explains, green eyes boring into yours. you hum, nodding and ignoring the blatant lie bill just told, ignoring that he's walked up two flights of stairs towards your room just because he 'can't sleep.'

it makes you grin. "well, i still have that deck of cards we were using earlier." you say, sending him a look as you gesture slightly to your bedroom behind you. bill smirks, "we n-never did get to play that round of war, did we?" he says with a charming smile.

it's mostly quiet as you set up the deck, the tension of being alone together in the middle of the night in your bedroom making you seem like you're doing something you're not supposed to. it makes you feel warm as you start playing, the first time you draw the same card giving you a good idea.

after you flip your fourth card down and see you lost, you let out a sigh. "fuck." you whisper, reaching and pulling your top off. you toss it to the ground next to where you and bill sit and then you dare to look at him.

his eyes are wide, cheeks flushed as he stares at your chest, your skin glowing against the fabric of your bra. "fuck." he nearly moans, and the noise makes you instantly clench your thighs. "these rules are n-not the ones my parents taught me." he says with a swallow. you laugh a bit, shifting as your heart pounds. "i like this version much better." he whispers.

the next time you both draw the same card, he loses, and he smirks, pulling his own shirt off. it makes you turn red because yeah, you forgot he and stan are on the baseball team and you did not expect him to be this fit. you lick your lips, pulling your eyes off his bare skin and clearing your throat. it's silent in the room, the sexual tension almost killing you.

as you both draw a matching card next time, you're about to scream from the intensity. you lose and try to hide your smirk as you pull your shorts off your legs, going onto your knees and grinning at bill. he groans lowly, biting his lip and making you impossibly more wet.

"i don't know how long this game's gonna be, y/n." he says lowly, his eyes glued to your frame. you lick your lips, shrugging as you move to crawl toward him, "we can just say i win, then." you whisper, throwing a leg around his hips and settling into his lap.

"well why can't i win?" he asks as his hands course over your bare skin, leaving goose bumps in their wake. he's grinning softly, eyes stuck on your lips with an enticing look. you melt as you lean forward, "you'll have to work for it." you whisper against his lips, kissing him.

his hand slides from your hip up to your jaw, his thumb caressing your chin softly as he presses against you. "f-fuck, y/n." he mutters against your lips as you pull back, moving your hips softly down against him and feeling his cock twitch below you. you let out a small moan into his ear as you balance your forehead on his shoulder, your fingers roaming over his chest.

he's biting softly into your neck minutes later, making you whimper as his thumb sneaks down to rub circles against your clit slowly. you palm him lightly and his head falls against the mattress, letting out a moan. you kiss him as your hand moves, squeezing him lightly and loving his stuttering breath on your skin.

you pull yourself off of him and sneak between his legs, laying down so he has a perfect view of your ass as you mouth over his boxers. you tease his cock with your mouth before you mumble, "can i taste you?"

"y-yeah, fuck yes." he breathes out, and if it weren't for your aching need to make him feel good, you might have huffed at how needy he sounded. you pull him out of his boxers and toss the underwear to the side, watching as his cock springs up to hit his stomach.

"sh-shit," he whimpers as you grin, leading your mouth down to press hot, open mouth kisses down his shaft.

he groans, one hand coming to hold your head softly, making you tingle. you watch as he stares at you, lips parted and eyes blown wide. his cock is glistening with precum as it lays hard against your palm. you lick your lips, leaning towards him and keeping your eyes on his.

you lick a stripe up the base of his cock and up to his tip, swirling your tongue. he groans in relief and pleasure as you take him into your mouth slowly, bobbing your head and taking as much of him in as you can. he's bigger than anyone you've been with before, and the need to feel him inside you and to make him fall apart has you taking him as deep as you can.

he lets out a choked moan as you take him deeper, your eyes clouding with tears as you try not to gag. you can tell he’s straining not to buck his hips as you bob up and down on him. you know he’s already close and you smirk when you hear him moan swears under his breath. he's whimpering, his cheeks rosy as he looks at you with half-lidded eyes. he's putty in your hands, and it makes your stomach flutter.

“god, you feel so good, y/n.” he groans. you pull back, sucking on his tip as you swirl your tongue, catching your breath. you take him in again, holding as long as you can and loving the way he’s writhing under your touch. he groans, one hand digging into the carpet, the other resting in your hair, his chest rising and falling shakily.

bill sits up, his eyes dark and lip caught between his lip as he watches you. “i see you touching yourself." he mutters, and your hand slowly stops rubbing your clit, your mouth stilling until he's deep in your mouth and you look up at him. "a-are you going to let me fuck you?” he says, his demeanor changing so quickly you swear you can't breathe. you turn red as you pull your mouth off his cock, a string of spit falling down your chin. he catches it with his thumb and then slips his thumb into your mouth.

"i just want to make you feel good." he says as your tongue swirls eagerly over his thumb. as he pulls it out you nod, trying to find the words to regain the authority that you'd just lost. "such a pretty girl." he mutters as he rubs your cheeks with his hands.

"please," you say, feeling desperate. "please fuck me."

he moans at that, eyes rolling a bit as he nudges you so you're laying back on your carpet. he's above you then, kissing you deeply as his hand slowly trails from your knee and up slowly towards your neglected pussy, his fingers stopping to rub your clothed folds. you let out a small moan as his fingers move, your toes curling. "so wet." he says quietly as he looks at you, watching your reactions to see what you like. it gives you butterflies.

but you suddenly can’t think of anything besides bill, because he’s slipping a finger inside your heat slowly and you're gasping, eyes clenching in pleasure.

he's building a rhythm with his fingers and you know that if anyone is awake in the house besides you, they’d know exactly what was happening in your room currently. you can’t find it to care as you look up at bill, staring back at you with swollen lips and a smirk, his fingers making you grip his hair in ecstasy.

your moans pick up in pitch and you clench around his fingers tightly as his thumb starts to rub your clit, the feeling of bliss having never felt this strong before. your toes curl and you let out whimpers, one hand tangling in his lush hair and the other holding your breast. his head dips down, lips attaching to the other nipple and swirling, making you arch your back.

his fingers pick up pace, curling and pumping in and out of you as he leaves light hickeys all around your breasts. the thought of bill denbrough marking you up for everyone, including your brother and all the other losers to see pushes you closer to the edge.

“bill, fuck, i’m close-“ you start, groaning in pleasure as he smirks slightly. you whimper when he pulls back, a devious smirk playing on his lips, his fingers sliding out of your heat. you moan at the sight of him, shirtless and hair missed up from your fingers, his mouth sinful.

he reaches his hand up to you and obediently you take his fingers into your mouth, sucking and licking up yourself from him. he watches with his mouth slightly open and eyes dark, pumping himself in his other hand. "fuck." he mutters as he pulls his fingers from your mouth, staring down at you. "you sure you want to?" he asks, lips close to yours. you nod, "please, bill, need it so bad." you say, hands rising to his shoulders.

he says nothing then, instead lining up at your entrance and teasing your swollen clit with his head. he's kissing up and down your throat and you let out a whimper, gripping his bare shoulders. and then he pushes into you slowly, his teeth grazing your neck. the sudden stretch fills you to the brim and you let out a guttural noise at the feeling. your back rubs uncomfortably against the carpet as he pushes into you, but your hands grip his shoulders tighter and all you can think about is bill.

“fuck, bill.” you mumble, moaning his name as he starts thrusting, building his pace slowly as you adjust to his size. "harder." you barely get out, whimpering as his hands grip your hips, and then he’s snapping his hips into yours.

“fuck, you're perfect.” his hands grip you, holding your legs open as your eyes roll back slightly, “look at you, f-fuck.” he pounds you into the carpet, his lips then falling to suck large marks on your neck, the stinging pleasure of your bare back on the carpet adding to the pleasure of bill tearing you apart.

his hips still snap into you deeply, his arm slipping under your back to prop you up slightly, making him hit your g-spot and making you let out a loud moan. you feel him so deep inside of you that tears prick at your eyes, the pleasure building instantly. "so pretty." he says against your neck.

you keen loudly, back arching as you yelp his name. he pulls back to look at you, hand tugging on your hair so you look at him as he pounds into you. “look at you.” his voice is deep and rough and then he's pressing a kiss to your temple as he fills deep inside you, the feeling overwhelming as your orgasm creeps up again.

your fingers scratch down his bare back, making him hiss and hum slightly, gripping your hips and lifting you slightly. after a few more thrusts, he pulls out and is flipping you quickly to your hands and knees, hand pressing gently on your back so you arch it. "shit." he hisses under his breath as he eases back into you, the new angle has you biting your hand, his cock pressing deep inside you from the pace of his hips. his lips pepper over the raw skin of your back, red and sensitive from rubbing against your carpet so hard.

and he nudges your head as he thrusts into you, tilting your jaw so he kisses you. his lips are against yours like he’s claiming you, his teeth clashing slightly with yours and his tongue dominating. you’re weak, legs shaking as he pounds into you.

you moan, your stomach clenching in ecstasy as you moan out his name, coming closer with each harsh thrust, “bill, fuck, im gonna cum,” you whimper. at your words, he pulls out of you and flips you again, so you're back on your back, this time lifting one of your legs and pushing into you quickly. your eyes roll back at the new angle, legs shaking as his fingers dig into your thigh.

“wanna see your f-face when i make you cum.“ he mutters, hand rising to thumb your lip, dragging your bottom lip down. you whimper, face red from the pleasure of his words. he's slamming into you, your back rubbing hard against the ground and his eyes admiring the smudged makeup of your eyes, the blissed, fucked-out look on your face. your chest is littered in blossoming hickes, varying from pink to dark red and slightly purple already.

his thumb rubs circles on your cllit and as he presses lightly, you can't hold off any longer. "bill, fuck!" you hiss as you hit your peak, your orgasm making your legs shake. "so pretty." he mutters against your neck, pressing kisses to it as you’re moaning and arching your back.

"fuck, b-babe, 'm gonna cum." he mutters as you look at him desperately, his eyes fall shut in bliss, a deep groan leaving his lips as he thrusts one last time into you, pulling out. you quickly move as he rises to his knees, opening your mouth as his fingers squeeze your jaw.

he's pumping himself as his cheeks redden, chest rising and falling quickly. "y/n, fuck." he mutters he as he cums, spilling onto your tongue as you look up at him.

beautiful moans fall from his cherry colored lips as he spills into your mouth, his cock laying heavy on your tongue.

you look up at him with wide eyes as he sighs, falling back down next to you. "j-jesus." he mutters, and you laugh, kissing his cheeks and then his lips.

"th-that'll piss richie off." bill says breathlessly. you laugh lightly - if only he knew.

tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier @simplesammyx @sft-core @clownsloveyou @moon-shine-baby @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @kait16xo @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs @leighjaenikhowell @cowbellies @deepestofwaters @thegaytheatrekid @ruefulposts

#bill denbrough x reader #bill denbrough smut #tozier series #richie tozier x reader #stanley uris x reader #beverly marsh x reader #ben hanscom x reader #mike hanlon x reader #eddie kaspbrak x reader

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urmomsmainbitch · 3 years ago

Text

american idiot - chapter one

link to wattpad story // link to series masterlist // link to writing

word count: 2.7k

warnings: the bowers gang, weapons, violence, basically the whole thing (if you're not comfortable with violence or abuse -- which henry faces during the movies and during the book -- then i recommend you don't read, but i'll try to tag appropriately!)

a/n: i hope you don't think it's ass but this is probably going to come out every other friday or so but this is more of a trailer than the start of the actual series

HENRY DIDN'T REMEMBER a better time in his life than when he heard the news that Tommy 'Gun' Lee was coming back to Derry for the summer. To him, nothing topped the moment where is dad was slurring over his dinner (leftover hot dogs -- again), and let it slip that the "ungrateful little bitch" was coming back for a few months over the summer, and that "your whore of a mother" didn't mention if she was staying for the year or not.

He remembered huffing and puffing, grumbling something under his breath before excusing himself, and running to call Patrick like it was fucking Christmas morning.

Something about his darling little sister coming back made his heart race and a smile light up his face, and it was evident from the way he stepped into Derry Middle on the last day of school.

Oh, this summer would be perfect! His deal with Denbrough was over, the gang was all together, and his perfect sister was coming back from San Diego for the summer. Tommy Lee Bowers, he knew, would make this the best summer he;d ever had -- and by fucking God, he wasn't going to let anything stand in his way. Not that stuttering freak or the stupid Tozier kid who's mouth ran a mile a minute or his father's thriving alcohol addiction -- absolutely nothing.

His Tommy Gun would rule that fucking school the second she stepped in to pick him up, and every one knew it.

Word travels fast at Derry Middle, and when it got around that Bowers had a little sister coming, the first thing Bill Denbrough did was panic.

She couldn't be too different, could she?

The same blood ran through their veins, the same color skin on their bones, and most likely, the permanently upturned smirk tattooed to their lips. His hopes didn't improve when he saw the girl himself, waiting outside on the hood of Butch's car, throwing rocks at little kids passing by as she sat patiently for Henry to come outside.

He'd promised her a tour of the school -- it's only fair, he put it, that a queen knows her kingdom before taking it over. Henry had no doubt that Tommy would run the school when it was her time in September. A grade below Tits and the rest of his ugly friends, it would be more embarrassing than anything else to watch them suffer socially at the hands of a twelve year old girl.

(Henry very much looked forward to that moment. So much so, in fact, that he near goddamn skipped his way to the front of the school to open the door so they could start the tour. It helped that he was getting out of math class.)

It was only in the few moments before she walked in the door (immediately claiming the whole goddamn building with a footstep) that Bowers caught him by the bag and dragged him into the bathroom, away from the rest of the kids, and most likely, where he'd lay dying for the rest of the school day and foreseeable future (Stanley refused to shit in the school bathrooms, and seeing as he was the only one on this side of the building, he was screwed.).

Bill had never liked being alone with Henry Bowers. Nothing good ever came out of it, and he didn't want to stick around this time to find out why he'd been pulled into a bathroom and away from the rest of the student population. Henry let go of Bill's bag, letting him stumble around for a second or two before straightening up and backing him up against the wall.

"W-what d-d-do you w-want, B-Bowers?" Bill nearly spat, looking the older boy in the eyes. Henry's permanent smirk seemed to grow a few inches on either side, because he just chuckled softly -- albeit cruelly -- and looked down at the Denbrough boy. Bill could smell his breath, even though the two weren't standing particularly close to one another.

"Well, B-b-billy," he mocked, nearly laughing as he relaxed his posture a little bit and backed away from him. (Any one is passing who didn't know them might have said, "Hey, I bet those two boys are damn good friends.") "I have some news for you and your group of stupid fucking friends, and let me tell you" -- Henry stopped to laugh for a second, like he was cracking himself up -- "it's going to make your life a living hell."

Bill gulped. He didn't think, realistically, it could get much worse.

"You got a free ride this year because of your little brother," Henry reminded, smiling a little bit, seeming genuine. "But the ride's over Denbrough. This summer is going to be the worst summer of your entire life."

(Bill didn't expect him to say anything else -- but honestly, every summer was the worst summer of his entire life. He didn't catch a break from the older boy and his group of goons, but there was a feeling down in the pits of his stomach that told him that this time, this time, for real, was going to be the worst summer vacation he's ever going to have as long as he lives.)

"But I do have a little piece of extra advice I'm gonna give you."

Bill huffed. "You're so generous," he started, rolling his eyes, as he tried to walk out of the bathroom. Henry grabbed onto his backpack, "but I think I'll have to pass with this one."

He was cut off as Bowers kicked him on shin and onto the cold bathroom tiles. So much for being brave.

"I think you might want to hear this." Henry squatted down to look Bill in the eyes. There was still a hint of a smile on his face. Boy, this is gonna be good. "If you think I'm a pain in your ass--"

"I d-do think you're a p-pain in m-my a-ass."

Henry paused for a second, sending a menacing smile, and pushed him back on the ground as he got up and stepped over the boy on the floor, before beginning to make his way out of the bathroom before looking back, before lending Bill a hand to get up. He hesitantly took it and brushed off his pants, lips pressed tightly together as he looked at Henry. "Then you're gonna hate the girl sitting on Belch's car."

"Why's that?" Bill asked, feigning confidence, already knowing the answer. Henry could tell, just exhaling and giving him a big mischievous smile, hands behind his back.

"Not important, but she's not gonna be as nice as I am," he said with a grin, "but I'm just looking out for you, Billy Boy. Wouldn't want Tommy Gun to whip your ass without some working, right?"

With that, Henry left the bathroom, a smile plastered on his face as he went to greet his sister, and Bill raced out of there like his ass was on fire -- warning Richie not to talk to or about the pretty girl sitting on Belch's car.

-- -- --

"Best feeling ever!" Stan groaned, grinning ear to ear as he dumped out everything from his backpack. School had finally let out for the summer — no more stupid math classes or dumb reading assignments and annoying history tests, just Stanley and his bird book for three whole months.

A piece of his own personal heaven. Points if the pretty girl on Belch's hood was with him but hey, he wasn't picky.

"Really?" Richie asked with a grin on his face, "Try tickling your pickle for the first time." Eddie rolled his eyes, but Bill smiled. Stan let out another groan -- not a good one, this time -- even though, if he had to be honest, this seemed like it would be the best summer of his whole entire life.

Richie felt it too, if he were going to tell the truth (as he so rarely did -- or at times, so bluntly did), that this felt like it was going to the be the absolutely best summer he would have for the rest of his life. He had a whole checklist and everything for things he wanted to do (kiss some girls), things he wanted to see (some girls' boobs), and things he wanted to experience (there were a number of interesting things on this list).

And quite frankly, he felt as though every single thing on every one of his lists could be accomplished with the girl sitting on Belch Huggins' car hood, smiling mischievously as she watched the kids coming out of school.

God, did she really and truly look like an angel. Deep brown hair, straight in some parts and wavy in others, came down a little bit past her collarbone (not super cared for, but neither was his), cherry red lips, and a cute line of freckles going across the bridge of her nose. She was the most impressive tan he'd ever seen in his whole life, a very deep beige from the summer sun — even though it was only June.

The top part was being held up by some clip, and Richie could see his own Hawaiian shirt going over her tank top instead of the open button down she was wearing on top. It was lazy looking and careless and little bit disheveled, but that day, Richard Wentworth Tozier II was convinced he saw the hottest girl to ever be created.

Eddie interrupted his dream, snapping him back for only a second. "So what do you guys want to do tomorrow?"

"I start my training," Richie responded immediately.

"Training for what?"

"Street Fighter."

"You're going to spend your whole summer inside of an arcade?" Eddie couldn't imagine that prospect, but with Richie, anything was possibly -- no matter how disgusting it might seem.

"Beats spending it inside of your mother, oh!" Richie's goofy grin came back in an instant and leaned over for a high five from Bill when his hand was brought down by Stan. "And, 'course, my summer bucket list."

Eddie sent him a pity glance, "No girl's gonna let you fuck her this summer, Richie. If they have any brains at all, no girl is going to let you go within a ten foot radius of her without realizing what she's doing." Richie pressed his lips together. Of course Eddie would be cynical, it's just because — "and don't tell me that I think it because I just haven't hit puberty yet!"

Richie gave him a toothy grin, "Aw, shucks, Eddie Spaghetti, you know me so well. When you see a pretty girl, like say, that one over there—" he pointed discreetly towards the girl on the hood —"you'll get that feeling of butterflies in your stomach and just think, 'Wow, I've just seen an angel.' I don't mean Bowers, I just-"

"Yeah, you mean his little sister." Eddie looked up to Richie for a response, only to see him at a loss for words, jaw dropping and face paling.

For once, Richie Tozier was speechless as Eddie laughed and slapped his back as Bill mentioned something about the Barrens and Georgie and finding him — even though everybody had long accepted the fact that Georgie wasn't just missing.

It was like a switch. Everything changed in that instant. It was like she grew fangs and claws, and he watched Patrick look at her like she hung the fucking moon. It was incredibly painful, but he assumed, in a sense, they deserved each other. It took a second before he realized what this would actually mean for him: having to worry about a double in the hallways — a hot double that could potentially fool him into forgetting her Bowers-ness — and someone else to make fun of him in ways that he'd never tjough imaginable.

Sure, Bowers wasn't awfully bright, but he sure as hell was creative when it came down to it.

"Gunner!" Richie heard Bowers (the boy one) laugh as she shoved him in the side, cackling along herself, cigarette never leaving her mouth — opting just to talk out of the side of it.

Oh, so her name must have been Gunner. That's unfortunate, he thought to himself. But then again, she seems awful, so maybe she just deserves it. He smiled to himself. "Tommy Lee, we've gotta start heading out soon."

Wait, so was it Tommy Lee? Or was it Gunner? Was that just the gang's nickname for her? More importantly, if it was, why the fuck would they choose a name like Gunner for her? Nothing was settling about that fact, and although Richie wasn't typically one to spiral, it was hard to control himself.

"You didn't tell me you had friends, Henny!" Tommy exclaimed girlishly, making Patrick spit out his sofa and slam his hand on the car hood, flicking out her cigarette and letting Patrick snuff it out. She put a hand on her heart. "Oh, you've grown up so fast! I remember it was just yesterday you took a massive shit in that kids backpack and had to do forty hours of community service!"

Richie could tolerate a lot of things. One thing he couldn't tolerate though, was not being able to chime in when his story was being used and told all wrong — or mentioned without his name. Luckily, he was spared his intervention by a howling Belch Huggins.

"It was four eyes!" Huggins nearly screamed, warning a howling laugh from Tommy and shove from Victor, followed by a point led by Patrick. "Yeah, him!"

Richie could feel his face heating up, but before he could say anything, the bright blue TransAM was firing up the engine, and was getting ready to peel out of the school parking lot like a man man was driving.

Bill was the first to say anything. "Sorry about that, Rich. Bowers is a real asshole."

"So is his sister," he made out through his teeth.

Richie saw himself as a 'go with the flow' kind of guy, but goddamn it, he wasn't going to let Tommy Lee shit all over him and get away with it.

He was too stubborn, too arrogant, and too proud to let that happen, but with only a second or two of knowing she existed, he knew she was the exact same way. He could get tell it with the way she walked and talker and immediately took control of some of the scariest kids in Derry Middle.

But she wouldn't come out on top of this one.

There's no way. He refused to let it happen. Letting her win would show everyone else that he was just a loser who couldn't stand up to a girl who's was going to beat the living daylights out of him if he looked at her the wrong way.

She already had Henry and Patrick and Belch on her side — an even, if not better, match to four decently sized seventh graders. There was no excuse for them to get beat.

Grinding his teeth and tearing his eyes away from her, laughing mischievous and almost secretly as she put her cigarette out on Belch's hood as not to be noticed by he coo around the corner (Rich didn't know that the cop around the corner was her father who would beat her till she couldn't stand if he caught her smoking) he said, "So, Barrens tomorrow, right Bill?"

And right as Tommy Lee Bowers and her newfound gang pulled out of the parking lot, she and Richie Tozier locked eyes and made a silent pact — an agreement — something they both agreed on — something he'd be thinking about all night and the whole next morning:

Derry is two small for the two of us.

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malfoysmaybank · 4 years ago

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richie x reader where he pretends to hate her but actually doesn’t and the losers don’t know why he hates her but he’s actually in love with her

The Quarry - Richie Tozier x Fem!Reader

a/n: of course!! nobody died/ moved away in this and some street layouts were changed to help with plot details!! also, this is in she/her pronouns as of the request, but lmk if i need to make an alternate version with different pronouns for anyone!! enjoy, and ty to this anon who sent in requests for a bunch of underrated characters!!

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Finally, the last day of sophomore year. The Losers burst through the front entrance of Derry High School and headed towards the trash cans, like usual, to dump the contents of their school bags into the garbage. Y/N, the only other girl loser besides Bev, joined them as she had done since the 5th grade.

------

Y/N had been brought to the group by Stan, the shyest but most friendly loser. The others had been suspicious of her at first, but she soon proved herself worthy of being a loser when she stood up to the Bowers Gang, who were making fun of the others.

Richie instantly liked Y/N. With her fiery personality and sarcastic humor that in ways rivaled his, how couldn’t he? They grew close fast, soon becoming best friends. They did everything together: homework, skating, they even killed Pennywise together when they were only 12.

But in the 8th grade, he started pushing her away and blowing off plans with her, he never even told her why. They were obviously in the same friend group, so he couldn’t ignore her forever, so he went for the second best option: being a dick.

Now Y/N had very thick skin, but when he started hating her all of a sudden, she started to become very insecure and upset over him. Alas, she wasn’t about to let a man talk to her like that and not do anything. Eddie was the only one who knew how Y/N truly felt about how Richie treated her, having confided in him early on. But in the eyes of the other losers, Y/N didn’t give a shit what he said about her.

------

“Dude, why does she have to tag along for everything?” Richie groaned when he saw Y/N approach. “I don’t know, maybe cause these are my friends too? An odd concept to you, I know, since you think the world revolves around you.” She shot back and turned to the rest of the group. “What are you all doing tomorrow?” She asked. “I-I don’t know yet. I was thinking we sh-s-should go down to the quarry if everyone else is c-cool with that.” Bill said, still stuttering but only slightly, as he was growing out of it as he got older.

The rest of the group agreed, including Richie, (surprising, considering he never agreed to anything if you did), and you made a plan to meet at the quarry with food at noon for a losers-only picnic. Y/N bid goodbye to her friends and walked back home.

------

“Bye, mom!” Y/N headed out of her house, backpack over her shoulder and bike in tow, to meet her friends at the quarry. As she neared the end of her street, she hopped on her bike and started riding down the sidewalk. “Yo Y/N, wait up!” She looked back to see Mike riding towards her, a couple of the others trailing behind.

Mike, Ben, Stan, and Y/N all lived in the same area of Derry, while Bill, Beverly, Eddie, and Richie lived on the exact opposite side. Going anywhere usually meant each half of the group gathering and then meeting halfway. Speaking of the others...

------

“I still don’t understand why we can’t do anything without Y/N. She always makes everything so boring!” Richie complained as he walked to the quarry with the other 3 losers in his half. “Dude, you were just fine and dandy with her until the end of middle school when you started acting like she’s worthless!” Eddie argued back.

“Look, I don’t know what the fuck has gotten into you, but you need to learn to at least deal with her, got it? She’s our friend and no matter what reason, you need to tolerate her because we love her.” Eddie gestured to Bill and Beverly who nodded, and then to Y/N and the other 3 losers approaching, who were all laughing at some dumb joke she said. I do too, he thought.

Richie’s heart skipped a beat and butterflies erupted in his stomach as he looked at you. Fuck, why does this always happen?! He suppressed the urge to hug you (why the fuck did he want to hug you for no reason?!) as he greeted the other three losers with a smile and wave. When she saw him smile, it was her turn to get butterflies in her stomach, as per usual. But forget it, she thinks. He hates you.

Y/N stripped down to her bathing suit and waited for the others to do the same. Richie subtly checked her out as he pulled his shirt off and turned to talk to Eddie and Bill. His muscles became more toned since last year, so Y/N was surprised when she saw him. She not-so-subtly checked him out as well. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer!” Richie calls behind him. “Could say the same to you, Tozier. I saw that, earlier!” Richie’s face flushed and he turned to Eddie again. That whole ‘jumping in the water with only undergarments on’ thing ended in 7th grade when everyone hit puberty, it just wasn’t going to work anymore (and for obvious reasons).

Before anyone could battle her, she ran towards the edge of the cliff and jumped off. Her body hit the cold water and it felt amazing compared to the sweltering summer heat. She swam out of the way for the boys to follow and unsurprisingly, Richie was next. He was always the daredevil of the group. This was followed by Beverly, then Bill, Ben, Stan, and then Mike and Eddie at the same time.

After they all ate lunch, Y/N sat on the little shore on the edge of the water. She soon heard her name being called. “Y/N!! We’re playing chicken, get over here!” Beverly yelled. Y/N swam over and hoisted herself onto Bill’s shoulders. Beverly got onto Mike’s shoulders and the game started. Richie sat next to Stanley as he watched the game from the rocks. “You like her, don’t you?” Stan said gently. “What?! Of course not? Why would you even think that...” Richie wasn’t convincing him. “Whatever you say, my friend.” Stan said and patted him on the shoulder. Richie rolled his eyes and turned back to the game.

Y/N defeated Beverly for the second time and raised her arms in victory. That’s kinda cute, Richie thought. And he didn’t even second guess or correct himself this time. “We play the winner!” Stan yelled towards Bill and Y/N. “We do?” Richie whispered to him. “Yep, we do.” Stan replied and swam towards them. Richie soon followed suit.

“Okay Richie, get on Stan’s shoulders. Whoever wins the most rounds out of 3 wins.” While Bill explained the game and all the rules, Y/N looked at Bev on the rocks. Bev gave her a wink and a thumbs up, whatever that was supposed to mean.

The game began and she tried her hardest to push Richie off of Stan’s shoulders. “Damn Stan, you got grip!” She laughed and Richie laughed too. Why was he being so friendly all of a sudden? She decided to talk to him about it later, she was having fun and she didn’t want to ruin it.

Richie finally got her off of Bill’s shoulders and she tumbled into the water. She came back up and started laughing along with everyone else. “Y/N, we should clean that up real quick.” Eddie said and pointed to her elbow, which was scratched up. “Oh okay, that’s fine.” She said. “It must have happened when I was fighting Bev because it looks like it already started to heal up. I didn’t notice it at all.” She laughed and went up to the rocks to clean the small wound.

She grabbed the rubbing alcohol from Eddie’s backpack and started pouring some on the edge of a spare towel she brought. “Well, this is gonna hurt.” She said and hissed as she placed it on her elbow. She felt a hand rubbing her back and leaned her back onto the person’s chest, thinking it was Stanley, only to realize as she was reaching for the Neosporin and a bandaid that it was Richie. Since the other losers were maybe 10 feet away, she thought now would be a great time to confront him.

“What’s with you being all chill with me now? I thought you hated me.” She said and Richie sucked in a sharp breath. “Eddie talked to me earlier as about you. He said that I should ‘at least put up with you’ because you were part of the Losers Club and you deserve to be treated with respect because you’re their- our! Our friend.” He explained. Her heart sunk as she thought she realized what he meant.

“Oh, so you’re just being nice to me because you have to be?” She asked, dissapointed. “No no no!! Not at all, I’m genuinely sorry. To be honest... I don’t know why I was such a dick to you. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I should’ve had a mature conversation with you on why I was feeling so insecure and shit instead of ghosting you. Not only did it fuck up our friendship, but it fucked up any chances I had of being with you, as more than friends.” Wait, what did he just say?

“It wasn’t cool and I feel so stupid knowing that I-” “Just shut up.” Y/N cut him off and placed her lips on his. He got over the shock fast, brought his hand up to hold her face, and kissed back. Their moment was cut short by Beverly. “Yeah Tozier, get some!!” She yelled and Y/N giggled as they pulled away and stood up. Richie laughed and flipped her off.

“I know I’m not off scot-free, but does this mean you’ll at least give me a chance?” Richie asks hesitantly as they walk towards the other losers. Y/N put a finger to her chin and pretended to think. “Hmmm... okay. But only one. And we’ll be discussing boundaries and all that jazz tonight when I sneak you through my window and you stay the night.” She says with a serious tone and Richie nodded. He picked her up and spun her around. “Thank youuuuuuuu!” He sets her down and kisses her forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. “Ewwww, do we have to deal with all your gross PDA now?” Ben and Mike say in sync and all the losers laugh. It’s not perfect, she thinks, but it’s pretty fucking close.

#richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #it chapter 1 #it chapter one #richie tozier x you #richie tozier x y/n

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toziersspaghettihead · 3 years ago

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Fic Rec;

“The bench where the autumn leaves fell upon.”

Pairing: Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak

Desc: Richie wanted Eddie to be a part of his life, aside from rehab and therapy. Aside from the small park and their walks and conversations about their miserable past and damned fortunes.

So he took a deep breath, and made a move.

"Hey Eddie", Richie said and the other man raised his head to look at him.

"Do you think..", a pause, a nervous scratch on his arm, "Would you want to- to meet me? Like, properly. After all this shit- after rehab?", he asked, a mix of hope and concern underlining his tone.

Richie loved fall and what he loved even more was the fact that he and Eddie met, in fall.

It might have sounded stupid to others if Richie was ever to voice his thoughts, but he was sure him and Eddie had a special bond.

He didn't know if it was because of their rather weird circumstances of getting to know each other or if it was just them getting along well after a pretty short time.

Either way, he did not want to lose any of that.

Two men in their mid-twenties, trying to fix what was left of their damaged souls, trying to heal from their past.

Two different stories, two different paths - and they cross their ways. What's the worst to happen?

—🍂A03 LINK🍂—

🌙Someone very important to me wrote this and I personally feel that it deserves to be seen.🌙

#richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #ben hanscom #reddie #fan fiction #it movie #stanley uris #mike hanlon #beverly marsh #bill denbrough

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ghostnebula · 4 years ago

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Sincere and Dignified

“Eddie's twenty-first birthday + The entire Losers' Club + Las Vegas + Being in love with your best friend = Well, exactly what you'd expect.”

[read it on Ao3]

(or here)

Eddie’s birthday is in November. Which makes him the youngest member of the Losers’ Club. Which makes him the last Loser to turn twenty-one.

Which means they go all-out to celebrate, since it’s the first time they can all (legally) celebrate together. And because they’ve kind of forgone “proper” twenty-first birthday festivities for everyone else, so no one would ever feel left out. Finally, no one needs to be left out of it.

They’ve all been living together for over three years now, they’re all getting close to graduating from college, and they all saved up for this one, because this is pretty much it. The last big, fun, tangible milestone in their young lives. The last “new” thing they’re earning the right to do (legally) after driving and voting. You bet your ass they go ham on Eddie’s birthday plans.

That’s how they end up in Vegas. Several long weeks of planning, lots of money they scraped together into jars over the last few years ready to be spent, checking and double-checking every class syllabus to make sure no one misses anything important on Friday (they have to be at their hotel in time for check-in or, between Stan and Eddie, someone will pitch a fit). Then they’re all piling into Ben’s station wagon with as little luggage as they could manage to bring for a weekend trip (the station wagon is “spacious”; it is not a fucking miracle vehicle).

Roughly ten hours later (five hours for driving, two for check-in plus cramming all their crap into the motel room and then attempting to organize it, one for figuring out and agreeing on where to even start with the partying, two more for getting ready) Eddie Kaspbrak has his first legal drink as a proper twenty-one year old, on this night of November third, and there’s no aftertaste of guilt like usual. He’s got Richie pushing shots into his hands, Mike making sure he’s eating some snacks once in a while so he doesn’t get too trashed too fast, Bev directing bartenders to make the most delicious fucking drinks he thinks he’ll ever taste in his life (Porn Stars, or something else inappropriate like that).

He has Bill, the oldest, practically under oath to stay sober (at least for tonight) so there’s one semi-coherent Loser present to keep the rest of them safe and sane until he can drag them all back to the motel.

He has a wad of cash in his pocket, a chunk of his savings from the past year, ready to blow on booze and gambling and whatever the fuck he wants, because it’s his birthday, so he’s allowed to do whatever the fuck he wants.

It’s safe, and more importantly, it’s legal, and most importantly, it’s Vegas. He never thought he’d ever have the balls to set foot in a place like this -- the kind of place his mother would demonize when he was a kid. Drinking, before he left Derry and his mom and the vice grip she had on his life, was completely out of the question, let alone getting hammered in a casino in Sin City, of all fucking places, under the care of the “evil little shits” he calls his best friends.

He more than lets loose. He lets twenty-one years of virtually non-stop anxiety unwind in one night.

When he wakes up the next morning, hung over for the first time in his life, it’s almost worth it. Bill’s the only motherfucker awake already, being that he’s the only one who doesn’t have several bottles of vodka et al. to sleep off, and he’s draped across the ratty arm chair in their ratty motel room, channel-surfing with the television volume as low as it can get. The light burns Eddie’s eyes, still, when he lifts his head and -- instead of turning, his head just kind of lolls on his shoulders until he can look at Bill properly.

He wants to ask him to end his suffering, which he can only assume he has yet to see the worst of. Suddenly he understands why aspirin exists. He wants Bill to pump him full of painkillers until he stops feeling like he’s made of electrified cotton. Instead, he says, articulately, “Guh.”

Bill turns his attention from Scooby-Doo to where Eddie is half-lying, trapped under the weight of Richie’s arm and half his chest. Richie is snoring away, glasses askew on his face, a cooling puddle of drool soaking Eddie’s shoulder. It’s gross, but he can’t really complain at this point. He’s accustomed to it by now.

“Ah, he lives.”

“Ugh,” says Eddie.

“I bet,” says Bill. “So, do you want a recap of the events of last night, or did you keep your promise and remember every life-altering decision you chose to make?”

Bill’s voice, which he’s hardly putting much effort into keeping down -- owing to the fact that all his effort is being channeled into trying not to laugh, and Eddie can’t even begin to fathom what’s so funny -- is causing the other Losers to stir. His splitting headache doesn’t want him to try to figure out what’s funny. He must have fried a metric shitload of braincells with all those Porn Stars last night, or whatever the fuck sugary booze Bev was pouring down his throat before everything went hazy.

“Life-altering?” he repeats after a few moments, as Richie’s arm finally stops crushing him. It’s the only word that really stands out to him in the jumbled mess of hangover discomfort his brain is fighting, and it should cause him anxiety but he’s more worried, right now, about drinking some water. Richie sits up beside him, yawning.

Bill hums. He looks terribly pleased with himself, which can be good or bad depending which side of the story you’re on, and Eddie’s got this sneaking suspicion he’s on the wrong side, here. “Yeah, that life-altering thing I tried to talk you two dipshits out of for longer than the actual ceremony took?”

“Ceremony?” Eddie asks, trying to feel back through his poor, poor brain to remember anything after slot machines and vibrant chatter and deceptively sweet beverages being passed to him. Richie’s head drops onto his shoulder as his arms wrap around Eddie’s waist. “Guh,” he says into the fabric of Eddie’s rumpled shirt. Habitually, Eddie reaches up to pat him consolingly on the head. Richie’s not one for mornings.

“Why don’t you take a look at your ring finger, birthday boy?” Bill says, but Eddie’s already frozen, because there was a flash when he raised his hand and he’s not entirely sure he’s believing what he’s seeing, and where the fuck did he even get the ring anyway, let alone a ring as nice as this? “Or, sorry, I should say: Mr. Tozier?”

Eddie... mostly ignores him, in favour of smacking Richie a few times on the skull to get his attention, hangovers be damned. “Richie,” he hisses, heart going a mile a minute. “The fuck did I do?”

Richie grumbles some kind of complaint, lifting his head from its safe space on Eddie’s shoulder, and when he follows Eddie’s gaze he lets out a kind of... laugh? More of a squawk, really. His left arm jerks off of Eddie’s waist lightning-quick, and then he’s holding up his own hand beside Eddie’s to show off their matching rings. “Oh my god,” he says, quiet (for Richie). A little bit of tension melts out of him. Then, “I think you mean, ‘the fuck did we do?’”

“Oh my god,” Eddie squeaks, and Bill loses his battle and dissolves into peals of laughter, remote slipping out of his hands and landing somewhere on the floor. “Bill, you were supposed to be babysitting.”

It takes a while, but Bill manages to regain his composure long enough to say, “Well forgive me, but you were a man on a mission. I distinctly remember a lot of, ‘we’re practically dating anyway’ and ‘no time like the present’ and ‘Bill, if you don’t step the fuck off I’m gonna shove this ring so far up your nostril you’ll be sneezing gold until you’re ninety.’ What was I gonna do about it?”

“Oh my god,” Eddie says again, red-faced, mortified, heart still going-going-going. They aren’t dating, though, is the problem, and yeah, he’s always had this stupid little idea in his stupid little head that they might as well be, but he’s never asked, because he wasn’t sure if he should. Wasn’t sure if it was safe. Wasn’t sure if Richie wanted something proper or to just stay very, very close friends until the grave. They weren’t dating, and now they’re married, and ohJesusMaryandJoseph why did he let himself get so drunk last night?

He doesn’t expect Richie to be resentful or anything, but he’s also an anxious mess by default, and post-drunken-haze Eddie is a different, apparently less chill person than mid-drunken-haze Eddie, because he doesn’t remember having this freakout last night.

He doesn’t think that Richie will be pissed about it, necessarily, but he’s terrified that Richie’s going to want to... undo this, somehow.

He expects regret.

He doesn’t expect Richie to slide his hand against Eddie’s so that their rings clack together, letting out a soft little, “Aw,” as he does so, or to press his scratchy, stubbly face against Eddie’s cheek to plant a kiss there, or to say, just as quiet and soft as ever, “We’re married, Eds.”

“Is that okay?” Eddie asks, heart in his throat, wondering if he somehow forced Richie into this when he wasn’t in full control of his faculties.

“More than okay,” Richie says. “Is it okay with you?”

Eddie nods dumbly, staring at their rings again, wondering what the fuck possessed them to make such a rash, life-altering decision like this, yet understanding all too well that his love for Richie is too big to contain and it has to spill out in little doses like this, or it’ll probably kill him, or make him go crazy. “Yeah,” he says finally, nodding perhaps too fast. “Yeah, Richie, it’s more than okay.”

He turns in Richie’s arms to kiss him properly, apparently not for the first time, and just the action brings a couple snippets of last night’s escapades abruptly to the surface.

“$25 Weddings,” a pink neon sign outside a squat white chapel proclaims, “Sincere and Dignified.” And below that, in smaller, baby blue lettering: “Can provide: Flowers, Rings, Witnesses, Transportation, Attire...” The list goes on. It’s a wonder Eddie is coherent enough to read it, let alone comprehend it, but he’s rounding on Richie, whose arm he’s hanging off of, with the best fucking idea already leaping from his lips.

“Ffffffuck Kaspbrak,” Eddie slurs as a reluctant Bill helps him slip on a suit jacket, fiddling with the purple clip-on bowtie Richie threw over the divider at him. “Fuck Kaspbrak, right, Rich?”

“Right,” Richie says enthusiastically -- probably too enthusiastically -- from the other side of the thin wooden divider that separates their “changing rooms.”

“Fuck that name,” Eddie decides, nodding to himself. Bill takes the bowtie out of his hands with a sigh, and Eddie lifts his chin to let Bill fasten it to his shirt, grumbling all the while about how stupid they both are. “And fuck my mom.”

“Fuck your mom!” Richie shouts. There’s a beat of relative quiet, then, “Not, like, fuck your mom, obviously. Fuck... you, maybe?” And then Bev’s raucous laughter echoes through the whole room.

Eddie can’t help laughing with her, even though Bill’s insisting he stay still “so you can at least look semi-presentable for your pictures, c’mon, Eddie, this is a big moment for me, too.”

“How are you the bridezilla, here, Bill?”

“Could you please just work with me here, I swear to-- agh!” (More laughter from Bev. Stan saying something incomprehensible but loud and boisterous. Mike trying to shush them.) “I’m just trying to make sure this is actually special since you absolute buffoons refuse to just wait and do this right.” Is Bill fucking crying?

Richie’s tongue down Eddie’s throat, over and over and over: in the chapel; in a bar; in front of the bar; just before Bill drags them away from the casino they’re trying to sneak back into and instead towards the station wagon he’s doing his best to herd the Losers to; in the station wagon; in front of the motel.

Bill prying them apart with minimal assistance from a piss-drunk Ben who insists he’s “helping,” telling them once again that they are not allowed to consummate their fucking marriage in public, and especially not allowed to do it in the motel room all seven of them have to sleep in--

He hears Bev’s little “aww” behind him somewhere as he and Richie break apart, and Stan’s grief about how fucking early it is “for this shit.” Eddie can hear something like a smile in his voice, if not just plain old amusement.

“We’re married, Rich,” Eddie repeats incredulously, and Bill is saying something about their marriage license in his wallet because neither of them can be trusted, but Eddie couldn’t care less about licenses or whatever, because Richie’s smiling down at him in that way that makes his heart feel too full. And he doesn’t mean to, but a choked noise bubbles up out of him, almost a sob, maybe a laugh. Tears burn in his eyes.

But that’s alright, because Richie’s crying already, and he wraps himself bodily around Eddie, rolling them over so he’s squishing him into the mattress while he kisses all over his face and his throat until Eddie’s squealing with laughter despite his agonizing hangover. He almost feels too good to care about it now, but he’s definitely getting some water and painkillers into his system the second the weird high he’s feeling subsides.

“Okay, okay,” says Stan, standing above them suddenly, swatting at Richie’s shoulders. “You’ve had your fun. Noisy assholes. We were too drunk for proper congratulations last night. Move over.”

All the Losers squeeze themselves onto the queen bed, somehow, and water bottles and aspirin get passed around. At some point Bill gets up to start the coffeemaker and comes back with (good fucking lord) their “wedding photos” in a crisp manila envelope. They’re just as gaudy as he expected. Leave it to Richie to find the ugliest possible outfit for his literal wedding.

Eddie gets hugs and shoulder-squeezes and cheek-kisses from everyone, over and over, and Bev actually cries for about ten full minutes while she holds him, then at least ten more while she holds Richie, and then Ben cries, and... well, they all end up crying all over each other, but it’s awash with joy. “We’re happy for you,” they keep saying, and Eddie’s happy for them, too. He didn’t expect to accidentally do things this way, but he has to be glad it happened.

“God,” he says a while later, shaking his head as he sips sugary coffee from the mug he and Richie are sharing (this room is meant for four people, max, not seven, and is equipped accordingly). He’s still examining a picture of Richie attempting to give him a piggy-back ride out of the chapel. Bill is visible in the background, eyes red and puffy, a wad of tissues clenched in his hand while Mike tries to console him. Eddie has been making fun of him for about half an hour now. “My mom would flip if I told her about this.” But the thought doesn’t scare him. He doesn’t get scared of her anymore. Not like he used to. Not when he’s so far away and he feels so safe with these six idiots who bring so much joy to his life.

Richie’s thumb rubs over the skin of his lower back where his hand has crept up Eddie’s shirt. “Good thing you don’t have to,” he says, and that familiar mantra of “You never have to see her again,” bleeds through, plain as ever.

Eddie hums. Passes the coffee back to him. “I know. But... I kinda want to. Just to watch her head explode,” he says with a shrug and a grin, earning a chorus of easy laughter from his friends. He stares at the ring on Richie’s finger as Richie throws back the rest of their coffee, something warm and familiar blooming brighter in his chest.

#reddie #my writing #oh look i actually found time in the chaos of my life to post this #a miracle #also a fic short enough to just post the whole thing on tumblr???#a second miracle #the losers club #cw alcohol #cw gambling #vegas wedding babey

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19tozier · 4 years ago

Text

polaroid boy (richie tozier)

request:if/when requests are open (if this is okay bc idk your request rules) could you write an angst fic for reddie based on the song polaroid boy by nicole zefanya, it can be from either persons pov i think that decision is more of a personal one based on who you think fits the song better

warnings: angst, swearing, allusions to sexual things, i tried out some stuff w tense so hopefully it still makes sense lol

[losers + reader are college aged (20/21)]

there is an exquisite beauty in falling in love. in feeling your heart quicken at the sight of their smile, or feeling your cheeks blush at the sound of their laugh. in letting yourself tumble off the edge of the cliff because you are certain they will be there to catch you.

there is an exquisite pain in hitting the ground after they fail to do so.

you want to curse yourself for having stepped off the edge. you aren’t sure you’d have been able to stop yourself from falling anyways, but you did it with no hesitation. you didn’t just trip over the cliff, you leapt off of it. no parachute, no net, no caution. and now you’re the one paying the price for it.

it started, innocently enough, in your first lecture fall semester of your sophomore year. you were still drudging through your gen eds, doing your best to stay motivated through endless classes that weren’t at all related to your major. the lectures made your eyes glaze and your head pound, but you were getting through them. nothing exciting ever happened in them but that was fine with you.

until, of course, richie tozier sat next to you in the middle of a half-empty history lecture, fashionably late and a devil’s smirk on his pretty face.

you’d done your best to ignore him at first, furiously writing down anything and everything the professor said. just because a beautiful boy had sat beside you didn’t mean you would compromise your education. class first, dick later, you thought.

but richie, still wearing that gorgeous smirk, had leaned into your side and murmured, “you look a little tense there, doll. want some help with that?” and his left eye had dropped in a wink that sent prickles down your spine.

fuck, had you wanted to slap him for such a suggestive comment. did he always go around propositioning random girls? you were certain the answer was yes, and yet... part of you loved the attention, and another part of you wanted to keep those blue eyes on you at all times.

you’d scowled, glaring at him, refusing to rise to his bait and give him the response he so obviously wanted. you’d pointedly turned back to your professor, ignoring richie for the remainder of the class.

you’d expected him to give up the chase, maybe find another girl who’d take kindly to his attempts at seduction, but he’d stayed by your side while you packed up your bag and walked out beside you, body in a long loose sprawl as he asked—no, begged—you to let him take you to lunch. and were you really going to turn down a free meal? he may be irritating, but you weren’t stupid.

and oh, had he irritated you. it felt like he had been drawn straight from your own personal hell to drive you crazy, but there was something charming about him. something that drew you in despite your earlier reluctance.

he’d leaned across the table at lunch, smirk softened into something sweeter, and brushed his thumb along your cheek. “you’ve got somethin’ here, love,” he’d murmured, his eyes smoky.

“thanks,” you'd rasped, subtly crossing your legs and praying he didn’t notice your blush.

you’d caved and given him your number at the end of your maybe-date. you were still operating under the idea that he wouldn’t want to see you again, so hey, you’d figured, what the hell?

but he had. he’d texted you that night, a simple hey there sugar ;), and against your will your heart had started pounding. your hands shook as you carefully typed out we’ve known each other for a day and you’ve called me how many nicknames?

you’d laughed, irritation be damned, when he had responded almost immediately: i can add on a few more. put it on my tab, toots.

you found, slowly but surely, that richie was charming and funny and obnoxious in a way that made you want more. he was crass, yes, and sometimes he made you want to gouge your own eyes out, but he was softer and sweeter than you’d ever have thought to give him credit for. and it was horrible for you, really, because there was nothing to stop you from developing feelings.

but there were nights where you curled up with richie in your dorm room, squished together on your too-small bed, your roommate blessedly gone for the night, watching shitty movies on your laptop with takeout scattered around you. nights where you were certain that everything you felt for him was reciprocated.

he had pressed his lips into your hair, his glasses digging into the top of your head. “this movie is something else, doll,” he’d murmured to you, tilting his chin towards where you were forcing him to watch the room with you. “not sure i know what’s going on anymore.”

you’d laughed, twisting your head to kiss his jaw. “that’s the point,” you had grinned. “this movie is so bad that it’s fantastic.”

he’d snorted, the tips of his fingers sliding under your t-shirt and tracing circles into the bare skin of your back. “not quite the word i’d use but sure, toots. i’ve definitely lost the plot though.”

you’d frowned, reaching to pause it to look up at him. “i can rewind it if you want?”

he’d smirked, reaching gentle fingers to cradle the curve of your jaw, turning your face towards him. “i can think of something better to do,” he’d purred, and his lips and his body had silenced any objection you could’ve had. not that you did, really.

he’d had that effect on you. time and time again, he had turned you into a bumbling idiot, a lovesick fool, a damned clown. you were the court jester in his kingly eyes, the puppet beneath his talented hand, the doll to sit high on his shelf. people thought it was he that was the bozo, but no; he played you like it was his job and you were too stupid to ever realize how masterful he was.

you’d giggled to him, stretched out in the quad with your head in his lap. he’d been leaning against a tree, one hand absently stroking through your hair, the other holding up a book for class. you had been fucking around with the polaroid camera your friend had bought you for your birthday, taking pictures of the trees and the students around you but mostly of richie himself.

“what’s up, sugar?” he’d murmured, glancing down from his book. his glasses had nearly slid off of his nose.

you’d reached up to correct them, smiling at him. “nothing, nothing. you just look cute. very photogenic.”

he’d rolled his eyes, bookmarking the page he was on and setting the book aside to fully give you his attention. “cute? me? damn baby, maybe you need these glasses more than i do.”

you’d scowled at him, as annoyed as ever that he never seemed to understand how gorgeous he was. “you take that back right now, asshole.”

he had laughed, grinning down at you. his palm had slid along your stomach, warm and secure against your skin, and his eyes had shone in the sunlight. “you always say the sweetest things, doll,” he’d teased.

he’d ducked to kiss you before you could respond, slow and deep and searching, and you had melted back against the grass. it was rare for him to initiate something like this in public, enough that you had kissed him back and not had a single other thought. when he walked you to class, he didn’t reach for your hand; when you met him for lunch, he didn’t kiss you hello or goodbye; when you studied together in the library, he never sat close enough to touch. at the time, you had simply thought he was reserved with his affections.

those polaroids you had taken were the first of many, proudly hung up on the wall of your dorm next to your bed. they weren’t all of richie: some of you and your roommate, some of your friends from your classes, some of the friends of richie’s you had met only once. but most of them had been of richie, because you were smitten and you couldn’t do anything about it.

every time he came over, every time he saw them, his face had done something complicated that you had never understood—a frown to a grimace to a smile that he forced on.

looking back, you wonder about every sign that you had missed. could you have saved yourself the heartbreak if you had simply paid attention? could you have gotten yourself out with your dignity?

it had never even occurred to you to define what you and richie were. you were stupid and young and content to just be able to love him, even if you hadn’t known him long. you never thought to ask him if you were dating, or if he was your boyfriend or not. you really fucking wish you had.

it came to a head not long after. richie had come over like usual, a spring to his step and a bite to his words that had been there for weeks now. he’d been a ghost of himself, eyes flickering around to see who was watching whenever you saw him on campus, not responding to your messages for hours, jumping whenever he saw you. you had just wanted him to relax for a bit.

you’d curled into his chest, laughing along with him to the stupid horror movie you were watching. “it doesn’t even look real,” you’d giggled, pointing to the spray of blood from on-screen.

richie had snorted. “‘cause it’s not real, it’s probably chocolate syrup.”

you had rolled your eyes, poking at his chest. “i know that, smartass. i’m talking about the effects.”

“i’m talking about the effects,” he had mimicked you, pitching his voice higher and sticking his tongue out at you.

you’d scowled, pinching his side. “you’re annoying and one of these days i’ll murder you.”

“oh, is that a promise?” he’d grinned, lopsided and too damn sexy for his own good. “not one of my kinks, i’ll admit, but damn, what a way to go.”

“oh, for the love of—” you’d lunged forward, knocking him onto his back and almost pitching the two of you off the side of the bed. he’d grabbed onto your waist to hold you steady. “i want to strangle you! with my bare hands!”

“that’s hot.” and he’d laughed, the motherfucker, like the sound of it didn't live inside of your ribcage and swim through your bloodstream. every inch of him was something specially designed to get under your skin and make a home there.

it still has a home there.

you’d growled, whaling on him with gentle fists that he did absolutely nothing to combat. he’d just kept laughing, holding your wrists in his big hands, glasses skewed. “you’re awful and i really fucking wish i didn’t love you.”

all at once, it had gone silent and he had gone tense. the expression on his face had not been the elation you had been hoping for; it was horror, plain and simple, and the shock of it had pitched you sideways off of his lap.

“you love me?” he’d asked through trembling lips, looking anywhere but you.

slowly, you had nodded. your voice had disappeared. and he’d nodded back, one short frantic movement, and then vaulted himself off of the bed.

“richie—”

“i didn’t think we were that serious,” he’d said, yanking his shoes on. “i thought we were just having fun.” like it was nothing. like you were nothing.

tears had welled in your eyes and your chest had ached with the force of it. your heart, which you had thought was safe in richie’s hands, was being crushed and ripped to shreds and you could do nothing but watch.

“richie, wait—”

but he had shrugged you off, forceful in the way he had pushed you back. the look in his eyes was wild and terrified and you didn’t recognize him anymore.

he hadn’t looked back at you, in the end. he had just shouldered his backpack and grabbed his phone and disappeared out the door. he hadn’t paused when you sobbed out his name one more time. he hadn’t even faltered.

foolishly, oh so foolishly, you’d held on to hope that that wasn’t the end. that you’d simply overwhelmed him and he just needed time. but as the days stretched into weeks and your texts and calls had remained unanswered, your hope had died the same way your heart had.

you had taken that fatal plunge; the ground was hard when you’d hit it.

you still have the polaroids. you’d taken them down after a few weeks, too hurt to see yours and richie’s smiling faces when he had disappeared from your life. but you still have them, in the shoebox you keep under your bed. and there are nights like tonight where you pull them out to stare at them.

your chest aches, the tears in your throat choking you. you should be all cried out by now but you aren’t that lucky. it seems every reminder of him is destined to detonate something inside of you.

you can still feel his smile on your lips. you can still taste his laughter. you can still hear the stupid voices he’d do to make you giggle. you can still feel him in your heart.

richie hurt you. god, had he hurt you. he’d hurt you so badly you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to smile again. but you’re still in love with him and you don’t think it’ll ever go away.

he’ll forever be the boy in your polaroids, the one that made you feel on top of the world and the one that made you feel like you were six feet under. you won’t ever be able to hear his favorite song without hearing it in his voice. you won’t ever be able to love again without feeling his imprint in your heart.

there’s something magical about falling in love. you won’t take that back. but on nights like this, you wish you never fell.

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asteriismos · 5 years ago

Text

Hard To Get -- Richie Tozier

Authors Note : I got this idea randomly and just had to write it. Idk if it is even that good but here I go

Warning(s) : smut, seventeen! losers club

Synopsis : As far as anyone knew in school, Y/N was untouchable by anyone. However, Richie Tozier plans to change that.

As far as anyone was concerned, Y/N L/N was off limits.

And it wasn't because you had a boyfriend. Quite the contrary in fact. You just didn’t think that high school guys were worth your time. It wasn't that unbelievable, most of them don’t bathe, expected a call back always, or put too much cologne on to the point where you gagged while passing them in the hallways.

Most people just rolled their eyes and called you picky.

You get what you can get, Y/N.

They’re not that bad once you give them a chance.

You weren't going to budge. Besides you had better things to do anyways in school. It was your senior year so the classes were the hardest you had ever had before, exams were coming up, and you had a social life that you tried to keep throughout all of the homework and studying bullshit. You had convinced yourself that you didn’t have time for a boyfriend, or even a one night stand.

You used to be like that in your junior year of high school, going around parading yourself like a full course meal in front of the boys in your class. It scored you about two hookups, and after both of them happened, you decided to make some major changes to your life. Your mother told you that boys weren't going to get you anywhere, so you rolled with that.

That was until Richie Tozier came along.

“I don’t understand it,” Richie Tozier exclaims to Eddie Kaspbrak and Stanley Uris in seventh period study hall. “Holly calls me, tells me that she wants to go on a date, and then the minute she hooks up with me, she's horrible.” He was aware that the people seated around him and his two friends could probably hear their conversation, but it’s not like it mattered anyways. So what if the whole student body knew Holly was a bitch and bad in bed, Richie didn’t care.

Eddie sighed, “You keep believing that all the popular girls are what you need, and then once you’re proven wrong, you keep believing it anyways.”

Maybe he was right. The girls at the school who threw themselves around like confetti were the worst people, and honestly, Richie didn’t want to give them any of his time if he was just going to get more depressed after the interaction.

“Yeah, but almost all the girls are like that at this goddamn school, name one that isn’t,” Richie said.

“Well, there’s Y/N,” Stan said quietly, waving his hand in an ‘I don’t know’ kind of manner.

Richie laughed, full belly laughed to fill the silence in the room. The teacher looked up from her book and gave him a look before shaking her head, putting her hand on her forehead and going back to whatever she was reading. Richie looked at Stan and said, “I don’t think Y/N has been like that since last year with what’s his face.” He was referring to your last hookup, Kevin Graden. The whole school probably remembered the day after you two hooked up and he yelled down the courtyard towards you that he wanted to marry you. It was embarrassing, not even for Kevin, but for you as well.

“So? You just implied that all the girls throw themselves around like candy, but she doesn’t,” Stan was now looking up from his calculus homework and at Richie instead. “What? Do you not think you could get her? Is that it, Tozier?”

Richie bit his lip, thinking of you. You were pretty kind towards him whenever he asked you questions in chemistry class, and you never did get mad at him for his stupid jokes. You were probably the only girl that hasn’t had some kind of a thing with a guy in the past year. Maybe he should go for you.

“No, I know I can get her,” Richie stated, pushing Stanley in the shoulder in a teasing manner. “Just wait and see, Uris.”

The bell rang, and it was now the passing period to get to 8th. Richie’s last class was chemistry, just like yours. He would figure out a way to ask you out on a date and work his way from there.

Once he stepped into class, he saw that you were already sitting in your seat, the one in front of his own towards the back of the classroom. Richie admired how the sun shined just perfectly on your H/C hair, damn, you were actually really cute.

He walked to his desk and sat down, pushing up his glasses by the rim and getting out his notebook from his backpack. You were doing the same, but dropped a pencil that you were reaching for. It rolled backwards on the floor and landed by Richie’s backpack. Before you could reach down and grab it, his hand was already there, grabbing the pencil and sitting up to look at you.

You looked at Richie and smiled, taking the pencil from his hand, saying, “Thanks, Rich.”

“It’s no problem Y/N,” Richie said. You were about to turn back around in your seat, but he interjected and said, “Hey, actually Y/N, I was meaning to talk to you about something.”

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“I was thinking,” He started, looking into your eyes through his glasses. “That maybe you and I could go to the ice cream parlor tonight?”

Your face showed some confusion for a moment, and then displayed shock when you realized that he was trying to ask you on a date.

“Rich, I-”

“Before you say no, just hear me out. Give me a shot, okay? I’m not looking to hook up with you, just a date.”

It was a minute of silence, and then finally, once the teacher started class, you turned around and whispered : yes.

And that sealed the deal. You went on the date with Richie and you enjoyed it more than you thought you would. He was funny, and he payed for the double scoop cone that you got. And then afterwards, he walked you home and gained a kiss on the cheek from you once he made sure you were at your home safely.

You hated to admit it, but dating actually wasn't that bad. With Richie it seemed normal, it seemed like you didn't have to try and flaunt yourself around. And he never stepped over the boundaries that you had put in place. Every time he kissed you he made sure that it was right to do so, and when you two really got into it, he wouldn't push it further. It was a little strange that he hadn't tried anything, especially since he himself wasn't the most innocent boy in Derry. You had heard the stories of the numerous hookups he’s had.

It had been two months since that initial date, and you two were now basically an exclusive couple. You hung out with his friends more often than not and you actually really liked them. They were all nice to you, and they were a good crowd, way better than the ones you’ve been in in the past.

That’s where you were heading now, to get to the lunch table that you shared with Richie, Stanley, Eddie, Bill, Ben, and Beverly. You could see it as you walked closer, seeing that Richie was already there with an open seat next to his own for you, and Stanley was there sitting next to Eddie. The other three were probably still in the lunch line.

Richie had his back to you, not seeing you walking closer to the table. As you got closer, you heard his voice, saying, “Yeah. We’re so close.”

Close? Close to what?

You slowed your walking down to stand there to eavesdrop more.

“I’ll be in her pants by the end of the week, I just know it,” Richie said to Stan and Eddie. The two of them looked past him and saw you standing there, your mouth agape, hands beginning to shake under the lunch tray that you held.

Richie stopped talking, giving a confused to Eddie when the smaller boy pointed behind him and at you.

You didn't know whether to scream or cry, but both of them seemed to come out at the same time. Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill out past your eyelashes once Richie turned around to face you. He knew that he had fucked up, he knew that there was no way that he could get out of this. Still, he tried to bargain with you.

“Y/N I-”

You cut him off. “Don’t. Don’t try to make this better Richie, I knew that you just wanted to get with me.”

He shook his head, walking towards you. You backed away, saying, “I didn’t want to fucking believe it, I thought that you were a good guy. But of course you had to get me, right? You heard the stories and you thought to yourself, man, I need to tap that. Well, too bad Tozier. Don’t ever fucking talk to me again.”

Your shaking hands threw your lunch tray towards him, the pasta being served by the lunch lady was now spilled over the hawiian shirt that he wore, splattering onto his glasses. Before he could say anything else to you, you were running outside the building, turning the corner and beginning to cry harder.

You silently cursed yourself for letting this happen. You knew that you should’ve said no to him, that you should’ve listened to your inner voice and continued being single. But you had been so tired of being lonely.

The worst part was, you actually really began to like Richie. But no, he had broken your heart. He didn’t really like me, you thought to yourself.

And for the next two weeks, you didn’t talk to him at all. He never abided by your wishes of him doing the same. He always showed up to try and make up for his actions, tapping your shoulder in chemistry class to try and make you turn around, showing up at your locker after school. Hell, he even showed up at your house once. Each time you would look at him and then pretend like you didn't hear anything that he was saying.

It really hurt to pretend that you wanted nothing to do with him when you so desperately did, but you weren't going to let yourself fall into his trap.

It was Friday night around six, your mom and dad went out on a date night so the house was to yourself. you were sitting in your room finishing up an English essay when your phone rang. You squinted your eyes in confusion, since you had only given out your personal phone number to a few people. One of those people being Richie, who you suspected was calling to try and make up. Half of you told yourself to go to your bathroom and take a shower, giving you more of a reason to avoid him if he called again. But the other half wanted to answer it, so you could finally give Richie a piece of your mind.

The latter ended up winning, so you grabbed your phone and pulled it so that the cord reached to your seat at your desk.

“Hello?” You said, waiting to hear Richie’s I’m so sorry’s and please forgive me’s.

“Hey, Y/N?” Stanley Uris.

“Stan, hey. Sorry I thought that you were Richie,” You said with a tiny laugh.

You heard a laugh on the other end of the line, followed by, “Yeah, I understand that. That’s what I’m actually calling you about.”

“If you’re going to apologize for him, tell him he can shove his apology up his-”

“No,” He interjected. “This is all from me, I swear.”

“Go on then.”

“I was the one who told him that he should go for you. I didn’t think that he was actually going to do it. And even when he did ask you out on a date, I thought that he was only trying to get with you to fuck,” He said. “ But as time went on and you two went on more dates, I could tell that he was really starting to like you a lot. He didn’t mean the things that he said. Hell, he hasn’t shut up about you for the past two weeks.”

“Then why did he say those things?” You asked. That was still the part that didn’t make much sense.

“He’s Richie. He’s stupid,” Stan said. You two both shared a laugh before he started talking again.

“He really likes you Y/N and he’s really sorry. I guess I’m asking you to give him another chance. Richie called me about ten minutes ago and said that he was going to go to your house and try and apologize, but that this was the last time. He’ll leave you alone after this if you want him to. So if you really want nothing to do with him, then you have the chance to tell him once he’s there. Bye Y/N.”

The line disconnected.

You heard the doorbell ring and you knew exactly who it was.

Opening the door once you reached it, you saw Richie standing there, dressed in a black sweater and shorts. His hair was disheveled and he seemed to have been previously deep in thought.

“Before you shut the door on my face, please just hear me out Y/N. If you really don’t want anything to do with me then I’ll leave but-”

“Shut up and kiss me Tozier.”

You leaned forward, clashing your lips against his own and balling your hand on his chest with his sweater in your fist. He kissed you back, pulling you closer to him with his arms wrapping around your waist.

After a few minutes, you pulled away and wasted no time pulling him into your house, closing the door and pulling him into your room. You once again kissed him again, his glasses fogging due to the hot contact. The kiss was a little sloppy, but nonetheless it felt good. You forgot how much you missed him.

“Wait, wait,” Richie pulled away from you, putting his hand on your cheek to make sure you were looking into his eyes. “We don’t have to - I know how you feel about stuff like this and we don’t have to. You don’t have to forgive me this way if you don’t want to.”

You breathed out, your eyes never leaving his as you pulled off your shirt, throwing it behind him. His eyes widened.

“I do want this, I want you, Rich,” You said, almost pleading with him. Your hands pawed at his chest, reaching down at the edges of his sweater, silently asking if you could pull it off.

His arms raised up in an answer, allowing you to pull off his sweater and putting your hands on his toned chest.

He kissed you this time, pushing you to walk backwards until you were falling onto your bed. Your hands moved to push away the blankets and pillows, giving him room to lay down on top of you. His hands went to your sides, rubbing up and down gently, causing you to moan in his mouth. He took that chance to slip his tongue past your teeth, exploring before pulling away and peppering kisses along your jawline.

Your hands went to his hair, pulling on his curly locks with adoration. You watched as he kissed your collarbone, neck, and chest. He didn't leave one spot unkissed, wanting to show you how much he truly felt for you. You were starting to get a bit impatient, wanting to see him in whole and feel him inside of you. You hadn’t had sex in a while and you forgot how good it felt. In addition, you knew that with Richie it was going to different than every other time. He truly cared for you, he wasn't just in it for the fuck.

“Richie, please, I want you now,” You whispered, pulling on his hair once again and watching him get rid of the rest of both your clothing.

He was positioned at your entrance, looking up at you for clarification for the last time to make sure that this was truly okay.

You nodded, hissing a tiny bit when he pushed into you and stretched you out. His hands came up to hold your face, his thumb rubbing your cheeks lovingly. He didn't move, waiting for you to give him the okay. When you whispered a soft go on, he started thrusting in and out at a slower pace, finally getting a good pace.

He thought that you looked beautiful, your hair spread on the bed like a halo as he made love to you. Your skin was glistened with sweat and made you look so gorgeous, it almost took his breath away. You thought that Richie also looked super good above you, his lips pink and flushed, just like his cheeks that he puffed out.

You knew you could never get enough of him.

“Rich,” You moaned out, your fingers pressing into his back. His hand came down and messed with your clit, allowing you to get more and more close to your release. “I think I’m going to-”

“Let it out, darling,” He whispered, kissing you once again.

And you did, your high sneaking up on you and crashing you into a wall of pleasure. His hand helped you ride it out, as well as you started to move your hips with his to help him reach his own.

Richie finally did pulling out quickly, and soon enough both of you were muttering each others names and laid there together, breathing in and out in euphoria.

He got up and grabbed a towel from your laundry basket and wiped everything off of you and in between your legs, then laid down next to you and enveloped you into his arms, not letting go for dear life.

It was silent for another five minutes. Both of you just laying with each other, enjoying the feeling of being close to each other.

“I think I love you,” You muttered to him, turning around and facing him. You kissed the tip of his nose, a smile appearing on your face as he grinned.

“I think I love you too, Y/N.”

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

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octoberobserver · 5 years ago

Text

“Just To Dream In The Moonlight” - (Eddie Can Sing)

Richie Tozier was on a date.

Eddie Kaspbrak was not.

Instead, he was at home, the home he had been sharing with Richie for five months now, hunched over his laptop at the kitchen table and steadily building up a knot in the base of his spine because he was too fucking old for this shit.

Fuck his life.

He had died, come back, divorced his wife, moved half-way across the country, only to find himself working from home on a Saturday night while his roommate, best friend and, oh yeah, love of his pathetic fucking life, went out to dinner with some handsome, single, ‘Instagram model.’

I mean, what the fuck even is that anyway?

Eddie knew this day would come, of course. Had seen it almost instantly after Richie came out, live on stage.

Richie was a catch. He was funny, smart, and…yeah, he’d admit, handsome. Bev was right. He did ‘grow into his looks.’

So, it didn’t take a genius to realise that him coming out would soon draw the attention of all the eligible men within a hundred mile radius and for them to show their interest. They’d be fools not to.

And you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Kaspbrak?

With a groan, Eddie dragged a palm down his face, snapping his laptop shut and pushing it away from him.

He had to cut out this wallowing bullshit. It wasn’t a good look, at all.

Richie was on a date and that was…good.

Right?

Eddie, as a good friend, should think that’s a good thing.

Then again - has Eddie always been a good friend?

With a roll of his eyes, he shut down that line of thinking, knowing it was the blame of the two glasses of wine he had just inhaled while pouring over Teddy’s illegible ‘reports’ while trying to ignore what Richie could possibly be doing right about now.

Or who, his mind added scathingly.

Shaking his head, Eddie mentally-scolded himself for his stupid, jealous streak.

Richie had left just over an hour ago, throwing him a half-hearted wave, muttering a low, “Won’t be long, Eds. Trust me,” and snapping the door shut behind him.

It hardly screamed a guy who intended on having a little Wham, Bam, Thank you, Sam.

Not that there’s anything wrong with a one-night-stand. Richie is a consenting adult, Eddie’s treacherous brain reminded him.

Despite this, Richie had insisted, all this week that it was “practically a business dinner.” Something that his publicist had apparently set up that was more than a little mandatory for some bullshit-Hollywood-reason.

Richie had not seemed too psyched about it either. Lamenting to Eddie more than once that he didn’t have time for “aging-ex-Disney-stars-looking-for-the-ultimate-selfie-or-whatever.”

But that had been before he had seen the picture.

Up-and-coming actor and singer, Dylan Lemass was…hot. Even Eddie could concede that.

And, he was a little more age-appropriate (at 33) than most guys DMing Richie at four in the morning.

Richie hadn’t been quite quick enough at hiding his impressed eyebrow quirk at the picture sent to him by Bev after some googling.

“He looks…nice,” Eddie had ground out through clenched jaw, heart panging as Richie began to nod.

“Uh, yeah. I guess. If…if that’s your type.”

“Richie, that guy is everybody’s type.”

He had looked at Eddie then, something indecipherable on his face.

“I’m not usually into…blonds.”

Usually.

That had been the only word to ring in Eddie’s head.

“Well,” he forced himself to shrug, punching Richie harder than he intended on the shoulder, “just see how it goes. You never know…he might…he might be your Mr Right.”

Fuck, actually, Eddie was a damn good friend, okay? He had encouraged Richie, “Mr Right” and all that shit, and helped him pick between two (admittedly ugly) shirts and everything.

He was friend of the fucking year.

Friend.

Just a friend.

With a sigh, he crossed to the fridge, fully intending to help himself to the leftover cheesecake that Richie had bought them in celebration of four months of Eddie allowing himself dairy again.

“I know you belong to somebody new,” he sang under his breath, the old song he had heard on the radio this morning continuing to be an ear-worm, “but tonight, you belong to me.”

He crossed the kitchen to get a spoon from the drawer, because it was an eating-straight-from-the-container-despite-that-being-gross kinda night, and sticking it directly into the strawberry mousse.

“Although we’re apart, you’re a part of my heart,” he continued, cheesecake in one hand and picking up his half-empty glass with the other, making his way out to the couch.

“But tonight, you belong to—”

“A bit of Eddie Vedder, huh? Eddie squared, I like it.”

He jumped so high that his red wine sloshed dangerously close to the rim of the glass.

“Fuck, Richie! Don’t scare me like that, dipshit!”

The man in question snorted out a laugh from his position at the front door, keys still in hand, jacket half off one shoulder.

“I did say ‘honey I’m home,’ Eds. Not my fault you were too busy crooning to notice.”

Eddie’s face flushed as he collected himself, carefully depositing his glass and cheesecake on the coffee table before straightening up and tilting his head at his friend.

“You’re home early.”

He didn't mean for it to sound as accusatory as it did.

He winced.

“I mean, uh…how’d the date go?”

Richie’s face was pretty expressionless as he shrugged.

“We wined, dined and sixty-nined. Just how I like it.”

Eddie’s mouth dropped open.

“Wha—”

“I’m kidding, Eddie, Jesus,” Richie held up his hands as he kicked off his shoes, leaving them by Eddie’s on the rack by the door and padding over in his socks to the couch, sinking down into it with a loud sigh.

“It went exactly like I thought it would,” he mumbled to the ceiling, slipping his glasses up his forehead to rest in his hair, his eyes falling closed.

Eddie watched him for a moment, unsure what to do, before taking a seat beside him, turning to properly look at him.

He seemed…tired. Weary.

Sad?

Shit.

Time for Eddie to be a good friend.

“Well, fuck that guy, Rich,” he reached out and clasped Richie’s arm. “He’s clearly a dumbass if he can’t see what a fucking catch you are.”

Slowly, those dark eyes that Eddie loved so much blinked open, meeting his with something indistinguishable glimmering in them.

“Thanks, Eddie.”

It was the most sincere Eddie had heard his friend be in a long time.

It made his heart skip a beat.

Quietly, he reached out and picked up the glass and cheesecake, holding it out.

“Wanna watch that new Chris Hansen exposé?”

A small smile crossed Richie’s face, breaking through the weariness like a soothing balm.

“Sounds like a plan, Eds Spagheds.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, throwing the remote at him before standing up.

“I’m opening another bottle. Don’t start without me.”

He crossed the room, into the kitchen and towards the fridge.

“He couldn’t sing for shit either, Eds,” Richie called after him, sounding pained. “He made me suffer through like four YouTube videos of him squawking his way through covers. I wanted to use the steak knife to stab out my own eardrums. It was fucking torture, man. You’re a hell of a lot nicer to listen to.”

Eddie froze, bottle in hand, the soft, unthinking compliment making him blush from head to toe.

“Eddie Vedder is technically a cover too,” he reminded him as he fought (and failed) to keep the grin from his face.

“Yeah, I know but…least it’s not the Patience and Prudence version. Talk about creepy. That’s some Children-of-the-Corn-type shit.”

Eddie snorted out a laugh as he made his way back into the living room, sinking down into the couch, his stomach lurching as his thigh pressed against Richie’s.

Richie held out his cheesecake-topped spoon, dangling it in Eddie’s face and making obnoxious airplane noises.

“Want some before I infect it with my Trashmouth germs, Eds? It’s a one time deal. I know how you feel about double-dipping.”

Eddie leaned forward, closing his mouth around the spoon, eyes gluing to Richie’s as he swallowed the bite and pulled back slowly.

Richie’s eyes were the size of saucers, clearly shocked that Eddie had called his bluff.

“Uh, I…” he cleared his throat, “it’s good?”

Eddie smirked, “Yeah, it’s good.”

“Cool.”

They lapsed into a short silence, Richie shifting to face the TV just as Chris Hansen popped up and launched into his latest case.

“Thanks, Eds. For the uh…cheesecake.”

He nodded, deciding not to comment as Richie kicked his feet up onto the coffee table, his shoulder pressing into his as he slowly, carefully, raised the spoon to his own lips.

Eddie blushed like a teenager as he kept his gaze firmly on the TV, trying not to think about the fact that Richie so easily put his mouth somewhere Eddie just had his.

At about the twenty-five minute mark, Eddie felt a soft, familiar pressure close to his neck.

Tilting his head ever so slightly, he saw that Richie had fallen asleep, his cheek pressed into Eddie’s shoulder, his glasses askew.

A small smile spread across his face as Eddie let his own head tip back a little, resting against the couch, the lyrics of that godforsaken song flittering into his brain.

“Wait down by the stream, how sweet it will seem, once more just to dream in the moonlight…”

(Read the entire series here)

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #eddie can sing #my fanfiction #happy birthday to richie tozier #hope in some universe he got his happy ending...in more ways than one

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richiefuckfacetozier · 5 years ago

Text

Why Can't This Be Love

Chapter 1: Here It Comes

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Click to read on Archive

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak

Title - Why Can't This Be Love by Van Halen

Dedicated to @slashpalooza and @sam-i-am2468

___

Eddie’s Tuesday started out as it normally did. Half a grapefruit for breakfast, thoroughly shower, text his best friend, Richie, a stupid meme, call Mike to confirm lunch for tomorrow, work from 8am to 6pm, and come home to pour himself a glass of wine.

Right now he was pouring 4 glasses because around 3:00pm, Beverly called asking if her and Ben could come by to tell him something exciting and that Richie had to be there too. He was not sure what they could possibly want to talk about with the two of them. Eddie tried to push down the anxiety that they might be angry about something. He was pretty sure he didn’t do anything horrible recently, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Richie! Can you help me?” Eddie shouted from the kitchen of his apartment. “I don’t have enough hands to carry everything!”

“Coming, my love!” Richie joked annoyingly. Although Eddie didn’t find it entirely annoying, it’s just Richie being ridiculous.

His tall friend padded into the kitchen wearing his worn out leather jacket that he thought made him look cool, a print shirt with a meme on it that Eddie didn’t get, and jeans, “I know what they are going to tell us.” Richie stated confidently with a little bounce in his step.

“Did they tell you already? That’s not fair!” Eddie said in frustration. “They couldn’t wait two more damn minutes?”

“No, I have a guess, Eds.”

“Don’t call me Eds.”

“I think Ben finally got the courage to propose to Beverly.” Richie went on with a smile. “Or she grabbed him by the balls and told him to do it.”

Eddie snorted at the imagery and wouldn’t put it past Bev to be that aggressive but probably wouldn’t to the love of her life. “That’s wonderful if it’s the news.”

“I bet you 50 bucks it is,” Richie challenged, “Ben was looking mighty anxious at Bill’s wedding a year ago.”

Eddie rubbed the back of his neck, “I barely remember Bill’s wedding. I was so blackedout.”

Richie rolled his eyes dramatically, “You were stupidly mourning the loss of Myra the hydra.” Eddie cringed at the mention of his ex-girlfriend.

“Be nice, Rich.” Eddie frowned. He pulled out a packet of thin mint girl scout cookies for all of them to snack on.

Richie rolled his eyes as he sipped quickly from the glass of wine, clearly not finished speaking, “I don’t know why either. She was a carbon copy of your mother. Her leaving was the best thing to ever happen to you.”

“Yes, being extremely single has done wonders for my self-esteem.” Eddie mumbled.

Richie leaned over and flicked Eddie’s nose, “You’re a catch, dummy.”

He yelped, rubbing his nose and getting goosebumps from their intensely close position. Eddie grabbed the other two glasses, thin mints and turned on his heel to walk out of the kitchen. “Fine, 50 bucks it isn’t an engagement.”

“Sweet! Also, those pants look good on you.” Richie pointed out following from behind him.

Eddie’s cheeks heated up a little, he purposely wore these dark navy blue jeans because Richie always compliments them. He wondered if Richie remembered that he did this every time. Eddie doubted it. When it was just the two of them, Richie constantly tried to make Eddie feel special and wanted. Eddie suspected Richie did it because he felt sorry for him, but he couldn’t be sure. Despite knowing his best friend pretty well, he was also a huge enigma. Constantly says whatever is on his mind, does the most spontaneous - borderline suicidal - things, and keeps a smile on his face no matter what he may be feeling.

They plop down on the couch in Eddie’s living room. His place was what Richie called a ‘clean mess’, probably the best description of Eddie ever said. He had the habit of hoarding things he didn’t really need. Piles of books on every table that he had already read, knick-knacks from trips, more candles than any one person needed on all open surfaces. He had really nice furniture that matched well in a blend of warm colors. Beverly and Ben sat in two mahogany chairs across from them, holding hands.

Eddie placed the wine glasses on monster movie poster coasters that Richie gifted him years ago when they were teens. They grew up together and remained close throughout the years, regardless of college or moving around. In fact, Eddie had six very close friends from childhood. The group called themselves the Losers Club, a title courtesy of Richie.

“Thanks, Eddie!” Beverly said nicely. Ben thanked him too. Richie sat beside Eddie, the side of their thighs touching as he scooted closer to hand him wine. Eddie always felt so comfortable around all his friends, they were the only ones he let be touchy with him. He used to hate germs and be easily disgusted by everything, but when the people he was closest with shared food, drinks, and beds with him, that feeling went away gradually.

“Alright, lads,” Richie started up with a newsies kid accent. “What’s the scoop? Striking Pulitzer again?”

“Well,” Ben’s round cheeks turned pink as he said, “We’ve got pretty big news.” Eddie observed Ben take both Beverly’s hands into his own big ones.

Beverly was practically jumping in her seat, her flamming red short curls bouncing against the sides of her face. She shared a big smile with Ben as she blurted out, “WE ARE GETTING MARRIED!”

“FUCK YES!” Richie shouted. He flew off the couch tackling Beverly in a huge hug.

“Please, don’t hurt my girlfrie-I mean fiancé.” Ben said softly, clearly surprised how much he enjoyed calling her that.

Eddie got up to hug Ben tightly, saying congratulations. Beverly kissed both men before they sat back down. Eddie raised his glass. “Cheers, to two people who’s friendship, romance, and love are unparalleled.”

They clinked glasses and drank. Richie bumped Eddie lightly, “Cheers to owing me $50.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie nodded toward the counter. “You can grab it from my wallet before you go home.”

“You can just buy me dinner this weekend.” Richie waved his hand.

“So Rich, you know what me getting married also means?” Beverly’s eyes shined brightly at him. He looked between her and Ben, thinking. Then dawning flashed on his face. He put his glass down and stood on the couch.

“Richie, no!” Eddie pleaded desperately. “You are going to fall! Idiot!”

He jumped up and down like a child discovering Christmas came early. “I AM GOING TO BE DUDE OF HONOR!”

They all laughed at his excitement. One of the things the losers club decided in their 20’s, after a particularly ugly fight about who would be who’s best man or ‘dude of honor’ in this case, was that each of them would take turns.

So far, Bill and Stanley had gotten married. To two incredible women, Audra and Patty. Eddie was Bill’s and Bill was Stan’s best man. The rest of the sequence goes: Mike is Richie’s, Richie is Bev’s, Bev is Eddie’s, Stan is Ben’s, and Ben is Mike’s. Mike is fairly confident he won’t get married and neither will Richie, which he says is for the best as he is far too stressed as a person to get married or be a best man.

Eddie recalled that a huge fight he had with Myra was over Beverly being his Best Woman. She shouted at him for hours that there was no reason a woman should be when he had all these guy friends. Explaining the losers club deal to her did nothing but place fuel on the fire. ‘Sometimes I think you love them more than me!’ Looking back, he most certainly did. Eddie was fairly certain he would always love the losers most in this world. Which furthered the cycle of being horribly single. Sometimes he thought he was in a polyamorous asexual relationship with 6 other people. They were too close.

Richie finished up his jumping and landed on the couch half on Eddie. “OW!” Eddie yelled. “That fucking hurt. You aren’t light enough to plop all your weight on me.”

Richie slung an arm over Eddie’s shoulders and kissed the side of his face. “Sorry, Eds.”

Eddie wiped his face that got kissed on Richie’s shoulder, pretending to get the germs off. “Have you told everyone else?”

“We have…” Ben begun slowly. Eddie didn’t like the tone he was using. “Stanley’s already started his best man duties.”

“Why wouldn’t you just tell us you’re getting married altogether like Bill and Stan did?” Richie said, seeming to also realize this was odd.

“Because we have to ask a favor of you.” Ben brought his hand up to start biting his nails the way he did when he was about to deliver bad news.

“Favor is too nice, babe. This is not a favor or a request. It is a requirement if you both want to be at this wedding.” Beverly let go of Ben’s hand to place it on her knee. She rubbed her thighs once, gearing up to tell them. Eddie had a couple guesses about what she may want to say but nothing prepared him for what it actually was, “You have to bring a date.”

Eddie leaned back in confusion, realizing Richie’s arm was still around him so it brought them both laying back against the couch. Richie removed his arm and started fidgeting with his fingers. Eddie worried his bottom lip before saying quietly, “Why?”

Beverly looked to Eddie with sympathy. “I’m sorry, Eddie, but we don’t want a repeat of Stan and Bill’s weddings.”

Eddie’s face immediately turned red with embarrassment. Three years ago, Stanley got married and that was around when he left his mother’s place for the third time. A year later, Bill got married and he had his break up with Myra. On both occasions, Eddie took a bad combination of too many pills and drinking more than he ever had in his life. Resulting in major blackouts and behavior he cannot remember but knows second hand from everyone what happened.

“Why do we both have to have dates?” Richie said, voice a little strained and weird.

Beverly rounded on him with no sympathy. “Because, Richard, when YOU go to weddings you fuck everyone and break shit. A date will keep you focused on that person and not be a chaotic monster with a death wish.”

Richie laughed, “If I want to be fucked by all your bridesmaids at the same time then I should be allowed to do that!”

Beverly’s voice rose higher, “That’s literally not possible, asshole! And the only bridesmaid is Kay McCall.”

“Damn. Kay’s beautiful but I don’t screw married women.” Richie’s face scrunched up. “Does that make her a bride’s matron?”

“High morals there Richie,” Ben said trying to lighten the mood.

“You know it Ben Handsome.” He winked.

Eddie sat there trying to word what he wanted to say carefully. As Richie continued to dig himself a deeper hole, “We are getting off-topic. I’m saying if I want to have sex with someone and have a little fun or if Eddie wants to get so drunk he mistakes your grandma for a urinal, then we should have that right.”

This brings Eddie back, “Richie!”

“What? Nana Denbrough thought she was at a waterpark. You’re fine.”

He put his hands on his face and folded forward. Richie scratched his back soothingly but didn’t stop trying to defend himself. Beverly eventually got so fed up that she pulled out her phone and played a video from YouTube.

“Exhibit A, Bill and Audra’s wedding.” She said viciously.

Eddie groaned as he raised his head to watch the screen. Bill’s younger brother Georgie had filmed people talking about Bill and Audra. He put the most unfortunate video, starring Eddie and Richie, on the internet for the world to see.

Video Eddie looked miserable and spaced out. Georgie had to say his name three times before Eddie looked up and hiccuped. “Oh hey, Georgie!” Video Eddie said enthusiastically. “Having fun kiddo?”

“I’m 21, Eddie. Not really a kid anymore.” Georgie’s voice said laughing.

“Stay a kid forever,” Eddie begged him.

“Ok, Eddie. What do you want to say to Bill and Audra?”

“Bill...I want you to know that you are the bravest man alive and I would die for you. Audra, you better be good to him.” Video Eddie points at the camera and almost falls forward. Suddenly, video Richie appears, catching him. He giggles bopping video Richie on the nose and keeping his face precariously close to video Richie’s face.

Video Eddie frowns suddenly and looks back at the camera, “But don’t fall too too in love. You might get your heart broken like me. Love is dumb. Women are dumb. They don’t really care about you.”

Video Richie had his hair slicked back and was laughing at video Eddie’s truths, “Eds! This day isn’t about you. It’s about Bill and Audra. We should be telling stories about them!”

“Oh god,” Eddie said as his stomach turned reliving the next part again.

“So Audra, let me tell you about Bill’s first time. He had a girlfriend in high school, blonde and pretty, much like yourself and they were dating for about…”

Video Eddie hiccups, “4 months.” Then smashes his face into video Richie’s neck. “You smell like whiskey.” He winces.

Video Richie laughed, cheeks reddening from drunkenness, “Thank you, Eds. When they decided to fuck for the first time, he got everything all set and she came over that evening. As he was eating her out.”

“Richie, kids could see this.” Video Georgie warned through obvious laughter.

“As Bill was going downtown on her hoo-hoo she got a little too excited and shat the bed.” All three men were shrieking with laughter. Video Eddie wrapped his arms around video Richie, shaking uncontrollably with glee. Despite the horribleness of the situation, Eddie smiled a little. “Now it’s unclear where all the crap ended up but we can guess that…”

Beverly stopped the video glaring at Richie intently. Eddie looked at him and he only smiled. “We won’t even get into the nuclear mess that was Stanley and Patti Uris’s wedding right now. But we want you both to have a date so there is no chance of you completely embarrassing me, Ben, and yourselves.”

Eddie scoffed, “Richie embarrasses himself on every date he goes on. What makes you think one brought to the wedding will be any better?”

“Oh yeah?” Richie gazed at him steadily. Eddie braced himself for the incoming insult. As much as he could dish it, he rarely could take it. Especially against Richie’s quick tongue, “And when was the last time you even fucking went on a date to embarrass yourself?”

“I can get dates!”

“A night alone with your right hand isn’t a date.”

“Shut the fuck up, Trashmouth!”

Suddenly, two armchair pillows smacked the side of Eddie and Richie’s heads. They both rounded on Beverly and Ben but the stare of death Beverly was giving stopped their prepared protests.

“If you assholes want to come to my wedding,”

“Our wedding…” Ben whispered.

She turned her ever reddening face, almost the color of her hair, at her financé, “Not if you correct me, Benjamin! Don’t make me marry myself!” She focused back on Eddie and Richie, pointing a bitten nail at them menacingly. “...you will have dates and BEHAVE at the reception or so help me, I’ll castrate you!”

There was a pregnant pause broken by the one who can never stay quiet long. “What about the ceremony?” Richie responded, “Can I at least ruin that?”

She stared at him, everyone ready for more yelling but instead she broke into a gorgeous smile and laughed. It lightened the moment but Eddie didn’t find he felt any less anxious. He fully contemplated this enormous request from his friends. Finding a good wedding date took time, he only ever had committed relationships. Well, the one with Myra. As much as Richie’s words hurt, he was right. Eddie didn’t go on dates. People didn’t tend to find him datable. “Too short, too high maintenance, too weird” were just a few of the flaws that consumed him. He had no clue how he was expected to get someone to go to this wedding with him.

The four of them started discussing wedding details, Beverly and Richie talking a mile a minute about everything that had to get done. He was especially excited to plan a bachelorette party. With how much money Ben and Bev make, it sounded like they would get their dream wedding easily.

Eddie was thrilled for them but that pang of being single and now having to find a date was eating him alive for the two more hours they stayed. When they finally called it a night, Beverly and Ben hugged them promising to talk tomorrow.

Richie did not follow them out which meant he wanted to drink and talk more, probably spend the night there. Eddie had a guest room that was essentially Richie’s room since he spent the most time there.

“You want ice cream?” Richie shouted from the kitchen where he was most likely opening another bottle of wine.

“With chocolate syrup!” Eddie yelled back.

“Oh, chocolate syrup night means major troubles.” Richie laughed.

“What are we gonna do Rich?” Eddie whined miserably. “Or rather, what the fuck am I going to do?”

“What do you mean?”

“About the fucking dates!” Eddie laid sideways on the couch, grabbing the cushion pillow and placing it over his face to scream into.

“Don’t be a drama queen.” Richie said. The couch shifted as he sat down by Eddie’s legs.

“That’s easy for you to say.” Eddie mumbled into the pillow.

Two hands extracted the pillow from his face. Eddie kept his eyes scrunched closed. “I can’t speak pillow.”

Eddie huffed out, “It’s easy for you to not be worried. You are a serial dater.”

“Open your eyes, Eds.” Richie chuckled. Eddie opened them to pout childishly at him.

He had his smirky smile on, which could only mean he had a terrible idea. “I have a great idea to get us out of getting actual dates.”

Eddie stared at him from his laid down position, probably giving Richie an unattractive double chin, “There is no loophole in this agreement, Rich. Beverly was really fucking clear. We have to have dates.”

“And we will.” Richie poured wine into both their glasses. He handed it to Eddie, forcing him to sit up in order to drink it. While Eddie drank normally, Richie downed his quickly then licked his lips.

“Who am I gonna have to take to Ben and Beverly’s wedding?”

Richie watched him carefully, opened his mouth and said, “You’ll take me. I will be your wedding date. And by default, you will be mine” Eddie’s mouth dropped and Richie clinked his empty glass with Eddie’s full one.

______________________

In honor of IT: Chapter 2 coming out soon, I have begun writing this fake dating idea! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, comment here or on archive and let me know your thoughts and feels! The title is thanks to Slashpalooza on tumblr who asked me a million years ago to write something with this title!

Tag List (Starting a new tag list since I don’t know who is still around in the fandom. Let me know if you want to be tagged):

@sarah011 @pan-ini @frankeeenstein @sam-i-am2468 @eds-kas @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @roobarrtrashmouth @hypnoidvoid @imeddie @slashpalooza @reddieforlove

#reddie #fake dating au #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #welcome home losers club #benverly #ben hanscom #beverly marsh #the losers club #fanfiction #it fandom #cursing #gay #i am a loser #Why Can't This Be Love #shannon writes

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thestarsaroundyourscars · 4 years ago

Note

For the word and pairing: caught and Reddie :P

Thank you for the prompt! You can also read it on AO3 if you want

"Fair warning Rich, if we get caught I'm blaming you."

Richie gave a loud snort, pushing open the door to Bill's bedroom. Eddie shushed him, landing a swat on his arm.

"Ow! Bill's not even home, why are you shushing me?" He complained. Eddie simply shrugged, Richie was right, they were alone but he couldn’t help feeling like they should be doing this quietly. "Besides Eds, it's not like he would believe me if I said this was your idea."

"Because it wasn't."

"Whatever, help me strip the bed sheets."

Reluctantly, Eddie helped him. They worked in silence, except for the occasional snicker from Richie while they wrapped the mattress in tin foil. When Richie showed up at the apartment Eddie shared with Bill, carrying supplies and a mischievous grin, Eddie said no before he could even explain what he wanted to do. But Richie could be very persuasive and, for all their friends liked to tease him with how Richie was unable to say no to him, Eddie knew he was the same. All Richie needed to do was give Eddie one of his cute crooked smiles and he would agree to the stupidest shit⎯ like helping him play a prank on Bill.

They had just finished carefully placing a layer of whipped cream and syrup on the mattress when they heard the apartment door open, and Richie and Eddie both froze.

"I thought you said he would be out for another hour," Richie hissed.

"I thought he would! His classes don’t end until six!" Eddie frantically looked around until he found the blanket and threw it over the mess. Then Richie was grabbing his wrist and dragging him towards Bill’s closet.

“Seriously?” Eddie huffed, and Richie glared at him.

“Did you have a better idea?”

But before Eddie could try to come up with something else, they heard footsteps in the hallway. “Fine,” he sighed and let Richie lock them inside the closet.

Which was⎯ tiny. Seriously, incredibly tiny.

And Eddie should know, the closet in his own room was the same size. But then again, Eddie had never tried hiding in it before.

“Damn it,” Richie muttered, trying to make space for his long limbs. One knobby elbow connected with Eddie’s ribs and honestly, between the size of the closet and the amount of shit Bill kept inside, it would be harder not to elbow him but Eddie still glared at him and pinched his side in revenge.

“This is your fault.”

“My fault?” Richie repeated, it was dark but Eddie could still see his eyebrows shot up. He was very, very close. “You told me we had a whole hour before Bill was back!”

“Yeah, but this was your stupid idea!”

“An idea you agreed to help me with.”

“Only because you threatened to prank me⎯”

The door opened and Richie lifted his hand to cover Eddie’s mouth, shutting him up just as Bill walked into his room. They heard the light switch click, Bill taking off his shoes, his bag hitting the floor.

Eddie closed his eyes and prayed that Bill wouldn’t feel the need to change his clothes or they were both done for. When he opened them, Richie was staring hard at him. And⎯ had he moved closer? Eddie could feel him pressed against him, Richie’s hand still over his mouth.

Eddie felt his heart speeding up at the proximity. He tried to avoid being so close to Richie⎯ it made him nervous and it made hiding his feelings that much harder. He wished he could take a step back but he was already pressed against the closet wall and, short of jumping out of the closet and exposing them to Bill, there was nothing he could do to put some distance between them.

Richie had zoned out while staring at him, Eddie gave him a little nudge and he moved his hand away slowly. Eddie had adjusted enough to the dark of the closet to see the way Richie licked his lips while staring directly at Eddie’s mouth. There was a small crease between his eyebrows, like he was trying to solve a really hard problem. And Eddie didn’t think he was trying to come up with a solution for the fact that they were trapped in a closet.

Slowly, like he was trying not to spook Eddie, Richie lifted his hand again. This time he cupped Eddie’s cheek while pressing even closer, flush against him. Eddie’s mouth went suddenly dry, heart hammering in his chest.

Then Richie was mouthing Okay? at him and there was no way to misread the situation or the expression on his face. He gave a short nod, unable to do anything else while he watched Richie lean in.

That was when Bill screamed.

They jumped apart, or as much as they could in the small space. Eddie worried that they weren’t quiet enough, but with how loud Bill was cursing, he realized it didn’t matter.

“Fuck Richie and his stupid fucking pranks. I’m going to kill him.”

Eddie bit his lip, trying to keep his laughter in. Maybe he didn’t want to help Richie at first, but he had to admit that Bill falling for their prank was absolutely hilarious. Richie had a hand clamped over his mouth, clearly thinking the same. He shifted and Eddie saw him pull out his phone and show it to him. The screen was lighting up with an incoming call from Bill. Since he couldn’t answer without betraying their location, the call went to voicemail.

“Tozier, you better watch your back. I’m getting back at you for this shit.” Bill hissed into the phone and Eddie felt another giggle rise in his throat and he had to bite his lip harder to keep it in.

He heard the sound of running feet and then the door slammed shut. Richie and Eddie exchanged a look but it wasn’t until they heard the apartment door open and close that they both burst into laughter.

Eddie leaned back against the wall, giggling. Richie doubled over, shaking with laughter. Eddie loved it when he laughed like that, with his whole body and with tears welling up in his pretty blue eyes. He dropped his head on Eddie’s shoulder, one of his hands falling to his hip. Eddie was suddenly reminded of how close they were and what they were about to do before Bill fell victim to their prank.

“Do you think it’s safe?” Richie whispered against his neck, Eddie suppressed a shiver. He tried not to pay attention to Richie’s breath against his skin and instead, focused on trying to figure out if Bill really left the apartment. It was silent and Eddie nodded, grabbing for the doorknob.

The room was empty. The bed was stripped, revealing the mess underneath and the blanket was lying on the floor, fat dollops of whipped cream and syrup next to it. Eddie wrinkled his nose, feeling bad for Bill⎯ that would be a nightmare to clean up.

Richie snickered, staring at the mess. “Bill is going to kill us.”

Eddie whirled on him. “Excuse me? Bill’s going to kill you. I wasn’t here, I didn’t help. This,” He gestured wildly between them. “Never happened.”

Richie bit the inside of his cheek, eyes darting towards the closet. “Um, what do you mean⎯ this? Like you helping me with the prank or⎯”

“What?”

“You know, the thing that almost happened in the closet?” Richie said, nervously scratching the back of his neck. Eddie’s stomach fluttered when he remembered that the thing that almost happened was Richie kissing him. “Because if you want to pretend that it didn’t happen that’s cool. I’m cool with that. Cool, cool, cool. Cool as a cucumber.”

Eddie chuckled softly at Richie’s nervous rambling. He copied Richie’s move from before, reaching up to cup his cheek and shutting him up. “I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen⎯ well, almost happened.”

“Oh. That’s⎯”

“Cool?” Eddie cut in with a smirk.

“Very cool.” Richie agreed, and it was like déjà vu when he leaned down. Except this time, Bill wasn’t there to interrupt them.

The kiss was soft, slow, perfect.

Eddie sighed happily against Richie’s lips, tangling his fingers in his curls. Richie’s hands settled on Eddie’s waist and he used his grip to crowd Eddie against the desk⎯ Bill’s desk. It reminded Eddie of where they were. And that they should probably get out of there. They barely escaped before and Eddie doubted they would have the same luck a second time.

“We should go to my room.” He said and Richie hummed in agreement but instead of stopping, he trailed his mouth down Eddie’s jaw to his neck. “Seriously Rich, when Bill doesn’t find you in your apartment he will probably come back, I don’t think we can get away again.”

“I don’t care.”

But Eddie did care⎯ the last thing he wanted was to end up involved in a prank war with his roommate. He would never know peace if he did. He gave Richie a meaningful look, “My room has a bed without syrup and whipped cream in it.” He told him and Richie pulled back, his eyes sparkling with interest. Eddie smirked, “And a really cramped closet, if tight enclosed spaces are more your thing.”

Richie opened his mouth to say something but seemed to change his mind. Eddie narrowed his eyes at him, “What?”

“I’m just trying to figure out if I should wait until after I get laid to make a joke about your tight, enclosed spaces.” Eddie groaned, which only made Richie grin harder. He grabbed his hand and started walking him towards the door. “Yeah, I definitely think I should get laid first. Just to be on the safe side.”

And, really, it was very hard for Eddie to argue with that. He was very aware of how incredibly persuasive Richie could be.

Tag list: @daddyphantomtbh @yes-dillman-yes @richietoaster @beepbeeprichiellc @its-stranger-than-you-think @lemonaayyee @losers-gotta-stick-together @tinyarmedtrex @richiefuckfacetozier @sam-i-am2468 @stylesmelon @s-s-georgie @reddie-for-anything @eddiefuckinkaspbrak @constantreaderfool @hammockrichie @jesuschristsupruvestar @mirandonsky @reddie4diaster @alargedepresso @purplepoisonedgem @pan-ini @reddie-to-cryy @reddieforlove @trashmouthnick @multi-fandom-wby @wheezyeds @nancynwheeler @reddieslashgeneralhorror @madi-personal @reddie-tozibrak @lover-mouth @atownofeggs @that-weird-girls-blog @appojoos @castielwinovak @a-gay-treee @twoidiotsinl0ve @fcngirltrxsh @spirited-marvel @typewrxter @rebecca-the-queen @juhavs @thegoshdiddlydangdoor @soooobr @purebloodqueen @call-me-bread @britcorn @wickedlyweasley @derpyanimatesstuff @braverthanyathink @s-onora @reddie-stole-my-heart (if you want to be added, let me know!).

#reddie #Eddie lets Richie convince him to play a prank on Bill #they're two halves of the same idiot #monse writes #anon ask

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soulwillower · 4 years ago

Text

heather • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader)

[based off the song heather by conan gray]

requested: OMG I HAVE AN IDEA IDK IF ITS GOOD AND IDK WHY IM TYPING IN ALL CAPS BUT CAN U DO A FIC WHERE LIKE ITS BASED OF YHE SONG HEATHER BY CONAN GRAY WHERE THE READER AND RICH HAVE BEEN BEST FRIENDS FOR SO MANY YEARS AND HAVE FEELINGS FOR EACHOTHER BUT THERE BOTH SO OBLIVIOUS- SO WHEN RICHIE LIKE GETS A GF ONE DAY THE READER JUST WHSKWHDIWHWIW IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN IT BUT LIKE AT THE END THEY REALIZE THEYRE IN LOVE. SORRY IF ITS TOK SPECIFIC. LOVE U. IM RUNNING OUTTA CHARACTERS

warnings: swearing, mentions of underage drinking, themes of cheating but no actual cheating, angst, fluff at the end, unedited.

thank u guys so much for being so patient with this fic <3 love u all so much!

[losers + reader are 18+ in this.]

4.4k words

(also, this fic starts with a flashback and idk if i like this style, but lmk if it works)

♡

the persistent beat thudding in your ears seems to do nothing more than dim your already low mood as you sip on lemonade by yourself in someone's basement bar, sitting on an uncomfortable metal barstool and leaning your head heavy against your chin.

these days, it seemed as though the world was painted in gray.

you look around almost lazily; bev and ben went outside in the snow a couple minutes ago, stan just took a girl upstairs - you're left alone now, because mike and eddie had to study for their exam and bill was feeling under the weather. and richie, as usual, was late.

there's almost twenty other people in the room right now, but you have no desire to speak to any of them. you've been trying to have fun tonight, but you're just having a hard time, feeling distracted and unable to stop thinking about wire framed glasses and a certain bright smile.

your wandering eyes halt your thoughts as a girl in your class - heather perez - catches your eye from across the room, her hair falling in natural curls that makes you sigh in envy. she smiles and waves at you warmly, gesturing for you to come and sit with her. you swallow and look down into your cup of dreary, graying lemonade as you try not to think about how you look in comparison. she's so fucking pretty. you look back up and shake your head with a friendly smile, faker than a plastic flower, and nod to the bathroom. she shrugs and smiles, turning back around.

she was too sweet, it hurt.

her naturally dark hair, long and wavy, her smooth dark skin, her laugh.... but suddenly, your head snaps back up after recognizing a familiar sight on heather's figure.

-is that richie's sweater?

your heart thumps and churns in the most unsavory way as all the breath leaves your lungs in one swift exhale. you feel sick to your stomach and your hand falls to hit the counter to stabilize yourself, the lemonade sloshing out of the cup slightly. but you pay no mind. heather's wearing richie's sweater...

you know that sweater really well. it's definitely his, and for some reason that makes you want to cry.

you blink and force yourself to suck air into your lungs as you look around quickly, anywhere but at heather perez wearing richie tozier's sweater, with all the stripes and patterns and the rough polyester material. you're not sure why you're so caught off-guard, you knew that heather perez was maybe-kinda-sorta seeing your trashmouth. he'd mentioned it in passing a few times and you've not been able to keep it off your mind as bev and bill whisper to richie about it in the halls or during hangouts when you were laying in stan's lap pretending not to hear it.

it hurts, though. holy hell, does it hurt when richie turns the corner and the typical, 'hey, richie!' choruses through most of the people in the basement - and yet his eyes are just set on her.

it hurts even worse when you make eye contact with him and he smiles at you, nodding in greeting and calling a "hey there, toots!" over the thumping of the noise before turning back towards heather.

your heart thumps erradically as you eye him sliding an arm around her shoulders easily, pulling her into his tall lanky frame, crushing your chest and deflating your trembling heart. heather's head falls onto richie's shoulder and you shiver, feeling colder than you've felt in so long. the lemonade you force to your lips tasting like stale water as the sight of richie pinching heather's shoulder and thumbing his own sweater on her frame make you feel empty.

even now, weeks later, you remember how it felt. you sip on the boiling tea and immediately burn your tongue, making you swear as you stare out your window, the snow falling around your house in the dark making you feel an odd, empty kind of peace. that fucking sweater.

you haven't talked to richie in almost a week and a half - he got in trouble the night after the party and his parents took his phone away - at eighteen years old, his parents took his phone - so that he could 'spend time with family' (a task that made you chuckle to yourself when bill had explained it to you about twelve days ago).

it's winter break, though, and you've been missing the last piece of your eight-person puzzle the last few times you've hung out with your friends. it feels empty without richie's boisterous shenanigans, snarky looks and goofy comebacks... you feel really embarrassed for missing him so deeply.

tears well up in your eyes as you think again about his damn sweater, the one that heather was wearing, the same one he'd given you not even three weeks prior.

"well look at you." richie says with amusement trickling through his voice like melting icewater through a calm creek. you spin towards him with a grin eclipsing your face as you shrug around his sweater, pretending not to smell his strong scent and pretending not to feel the immediate comfort it gives you.

"you know, for as dumb as it looks, i kind of like it." you tease, brushing some hair back from your eyes as the sweater sleeves fall back down past your hands. he laughs, eyes not leaving you for a second.

"shit, doll. keep it." he says, sounding serious. it makes you pull a face at him, starting to lift it slightly over your head to return it to its rightful owner.

but he shakes his head, hands gently gripping your arms and halting your motions, subsequently setting your heart on fire. his lips are set in a gentle grin as he shakes his head again. "it looks so much better on you."

it's spoken simply, in such honestly that it makes you blush nearly immediately. in fact, you're so flustered that all you can do is shove him a bit, stuttering out a quiet, "shut up, richie, you- i - okay, whatever."

it makes him chuckle as he takes the soft blow of your hands against his shoulders, deftly running his hands through his curly locks as he shakes his head. "you're adorable, kid."

you're lucky he'd turned around to gripe around on his messy bed for his laptop, because the stupid grin you're sure is painting your face is enough to make you dig your own grave and then hand him the shovel. if only he knew how much you liked him.

you didn't keep the sweater after that night, though. at the time, you'd told him it was because it was putrid; that the colors and patterns were a sin to man and that you'd never be caught dead wearing it out. he laughed the whole time because you had literally worn it to the store with him it with him that same day. but now, you'd give anything for richie to give you that sweater again, to feel that polyester inseam fall against your stomach and your arms and chest, like a huge richie hug (without all the bones and the cologne and the caffeine-pulsing heartbeat - so not a real richie hug, but as close as you could get to the real thing without actually just having it).

god, you like him too much. you rub your face with your palm, the moisture from the tears that had accidentally escaped your eyes smudging against your face. you're tired, almost - it's like an empty, heartbroken exhaustion that sags your shoulders and chokes your throat and makes you zone out for minutes at a time. one thought overwhelms you right now, so as you see a car's headlights shine out your window through the falling snow, you don't even notice it.

you just wish you were heather.

you've tried to hate her. really, you have - you figured maybe, just maybe, if you were able to rant to bev or eddie about how much of a bitch heather is, how she's terrible to richie and how boring she was, maybe you could justify the heartbreak in your chest.

but god, she's so perfect. heather, with her shiny hair, bright smile, her flawless mind and caring heart. she's, as far as you're concerned, an angel. of course richie would choose heather, who wouldn't?

the other day at that party, you'd tried your hardest to ignore your intrusive thoughts, but you can't help feeling like it would all be better if heather didn't exist. and even that thought alone hurts your heart, because you remember the smile on richie's face when he looked at her, swathed in his sweater and floating around the room like a beacon of light.

and you could never, ever in good conscience take that from richie.

you almost laugh at how absurd it is - now you're talking to yourself while you stare out the window, half asleep, dreaming of freckles placed just like constellations and crooked noses, of jawlines that jut out and long, lanky fingers; of loud, chipping laughter and beat up high-tops with cuffed corduroy pants.

"y/n?" a voice behind your door makes you jump a bit, unsettling your already disconcerted bones. you’re imagining him, now? you laugh into your scalding mug for a second, but after a double-take at the doorway you find the angel himself to be standing there with a perplexed look.

"richie, what're you doing here?" you ask, rubbing your eye to make sure no tears are left. he looks troubled. "i knocked, but nobody answered. so..." he says with a shrug, and you ned, tucking a leg under yourself and nodding.

"what are you doing, toots?" he asks, backlit by the hallway light. and then you finally can see what he's wearing, and you almost laugh at your own misery.

but you don’t laugh, your brain short-circuiting as you feel the knife twist further into your abdomen. the stupid fucking sweater.

“-um, nothing. y- did you get that back from heather?” you try to deliver the line as smoothly as possible, but by the look on his face, you did a real shit job at that.

“what?” he asks in an exhale as he shakes snowflakes from his hair and shoulders, closing your door as he walks towards you and falls to sit next to you on your windowsill seat.

“i thought you gave her that sweater.” you say and he raises a brow, “yeah, like two weeks ago.” he says slowly, eyeing you. he adds, “she obviously didn’t need it after that.”

you frown, “did she need it then?” you didnt try to sound bitter at all, but your voice comes with more of a sting than you’d anticipated.

as always, richie meets fire with fire. “it was twenty fuckin’ degrees out, she was wearing a tank top.”

you don’t know what to say so you just stare out the window with a quick huff, crossing your arms. "why does it matter? it's a sweatshirt." he mutters. "i was just being nice to her."

you nod, pain twisting around in your stomach. he's right, it's just a sweater. but he gave it to her, because he likes heather better.

“what’s up with you, kid?” he asks, gentler this time.

“don’t call me kid, richie.” you say sharply, not meeting his eyes. “and there’s nothing up with me.” you know you’re being difficult, but you really don't have the energy to argue with him right now.

it’s quiet again, and the silence is even more awkward. you take another scalding sip of your tea.

“um, y/n... is this because of heather?” he says after a bit. you feel the tension that the acknowledgment brings as it hits you in the thick, cold air. richie’s tapping a rhythm on his thigh, so you can tell he feels it too.

"richie." you say weakly, your voice coming out too quiet, too obviously broken and exhausted. "i cannot do this. please don't do this right now"

he blinks at you, eyebrows furrowed. "sugar, i'm so lost right now."

you decide to change the subject. "-why'd you come over?" you ask, actually looking at him then immediately regretting it. he looks hurt and confused, like a lost puppy.

"oh. um, i just need to tell you something.it's about heather, too." he sounds anxious, and you roll your eyes, looking down at the tree outside your room as wind blows powdery white mounds off its branches.

“can this just wait until tomorrow?” you whisper. doesn't he get it?

it's quiet and for a moment you believe that he's going to leave it, to not bring up the obvious jealousy brewing in your chest. but he breaks the silence too soon.

"i tried to kiss her." he says and you immediately look towards the door, the most immediate escape possible.

your breathing gets heavy; if you have to hear this, you know you'll admit your feeling to richie, and you don't want to do that to him. but you have a suspicion that he already knows.

"richie, i'm so, so glad to see you. and that you like heather. really, i am. but- it's not a good time. i'm not- i'm not okay." you say, voice thick as tears well behind your eyes.

richie’s eyes widen almost comically as you make eye contact and his hands immediately find purchase on your arms, his thumbs rubbing in the way that he has done ever since that one foggy summer you spent in the sewers. "y/n/n, what's wrong, sweetheart?" he asks, watching sadly as a tear slips from your cheek. it breaks your heart when he calls you sweetheart, and you shake your head.

you can't tell him the truth - that you love him, so instead, you mumble, "i've missed you. there's a lot going on, and i just really need you."

he looks guilty as he pulls you into a warm hug, one that takes you off guard but that you return gratefully. "you've been too busy spending time with heather and with your parents, and i understand that, i just - you know, i miss you." you say, voice muffled as your cheek is squished into his shoulder. he sighs shakily, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “i know i’ve been with her a lot, i’m sorry sugar.” he mutters.

it feels like you’re both holding something back from the other.

"i wish i were heather." you say against his shoulder, knowing richie’s completely unaware of the depth of your statement. but he pulls back and stares at you, an unknown look on his face. you open your mouth to say something, but you're cut off before you can get anything out.

and his lips fall against yours lightly, almost as if they’re ghosts against yours. his presence feels fleeting.

you barely close your eyes and press closer to him before you snap out of it, jerking backwards with wide eyes.

richie’s eyes fall open too as he looks at you questioningly. your heart is thumping heavy as you shake your head, more shocked than you thought ever possible. “what?” he asks, as if he’s surprised you’re not kissing back.

you give him a sad, broken look. you think you’ll cry as you mutter, "why would you ever kiss me? i'm not - i'm not nearly as pretty as her, i'm just-"richie suddenly looks like he might get sick, his face paler than usual as the steam from your tea dwindles idly between you. he cuts you off. "-why are you - why are you saying all these things y/n/n-”

“heather. you like heather.” you say frantically, trying to remind him so you dont have to live through this fresh faced heartbreak twice as painful if he kisses you again.

but richie shakes his head, and your confusion skyrockets just as much as your heartbeat."no. a-amy asked her out." he says breathlessly. "-she said yes."

you blink, pulling even further away as it dawns on you. "wait. so... so you only want to see me after the girl you wanted finds someone else?" you ask, watching as the smile gets smacked off of richie's face so quickly you think it may give him whiplash. "wait, no-" he starts, but you shake your head.

“richie, do you understand how hurtful that is?” you say, voice heavy as you try not to let tears fall.

he shakes his head, eyes glossing with tears as he gapes at you, “n-no, y/n-“

“fuck, richie. i know you know about my feelings for you. how could you do this? i’m not heather, i’m reminded that every time i’m in the same room as the two of you. she’s had you completely mesmerized for the last month, you can’t just use me to distract yourself.” you say, your tea completely forgotten as a tear escapes your eye.

he shakes his head, looking at you with an emotion you don’t have the energy to decipher. “leave, richie.” your voice is broken and it shakes as you look away from him.

you’re not sure what you were expecting, but when richie stands up silently you dont even look away from the window. you see him wipe his cheek in your peripheral before he sighs quietly and walks out of your room, shutting the door quietly.

you cry openly as you hear your door shut downstairs, your hands shaking as you cover your face, your shoulders shaking with sobs. you make it under your covers just as you hear a car engine sputter outside, your heart empty and lips still tingling as the feeling of richie’s lips linger on yours. you groan into your pillow and let out another sob, your eyes squeezing in agony as your heart feels like it’s ripping in two.

because even if they’re not together, richie still likes her.

why couldn’t you be heather?

you cry until you’re asleep, your now cold mug of tea resting on the windowsill as your phone charges next to you and snow swirls in the dark sky.

when you wake up the next morning, your headache is nearly blinding. you feel like crying more as you remember last night. you roll over and rub your eyes, unlocking your phone groggily.

but you check your notifications and your heart immediately stops as you see a missed call from richie at 3:49 in the morning last night, and a voicemail left a minute later.

well, you guess he got his phone back.

your fingers tremble as they hover above the play button, feeling like you may vomit from anxiety - the message he left is two minutes long.

closing your eyes, ready for even more heartbreak, you press play and hold the speaker to your ear.

“um, y/n.” the voicemail starts off, and you’re already tearing up because richie’s voice is full to the brim with anxiety and he’s not using his usual nicknames for you.

“uh... okay, i- i know it’s four in the morning, and you’re probably asleep - god, i hope you are, and that you’re not ignoring me. not that i dont deserve it, but i just want you to get good rest. uh, a-anyways. fuck,” there’s an awkward pause and you’re holding your breath.

“you know i’m not good with phone calls or voicemails-“ his rambling just adds to your anxious feeling, but you think if you don’t listen to this, your anxiety would eat you alive.

“- fuck, i don’t know how to say this. kind of ironic, i guess, since i’ve been thinking about saying it like every day for probably more than a year- okay, i’m... god, spit it out, trashmouth.” his voice gets thicker and you can hear the emotion as he takes a shallow breath.

“y/n/n, you make my hands shake. i swear, my heart feels like it’s going to backfire and explode when we touch... and it scares me so fucking bad.” you feel your heart halt in your chest, the air leaving your lungs.

you keep the phone pressed tightly to your ear as richie’s recorded voice goes on.

“-fuck, y/n. i’m terrified. sometimes i think.... like, whoever created me... they designed me just to be yours. and... it’s not in the same way i feel about bev, or bill, or eddie-“ his voice breaks as he sniffs on the other end and it dawns on you that he’s crying. “-you’re you. you’re y/n. i tried to like heather as more than just a friend. but...” it’s silent for a second.

“i just kept comparing her to you. i do that with everybody. i think i’m broken. i love you so much that it hurts.” he’s crying enough by now that it’s leaking into his speech; he’s hiccuping, stuttering slightly, his inflection changing as you can almost picture the tears rolling off his thick eyelashes and onto his rosy cheeks.

“-and i can’t sleep right now knowing that i hurt you like this. i can’t believe that i let you think of yourself as lesser than heather in any way-“ he sobs quietly in the recording and takes a stuttering breath. "i can’t believe i put myself before you. i’m such a shitty friend. i should’ve been giving you my stupid fucking sweaters the whole time.”

tears are pouring out of your eyes as you sit up, ripping the comforter off your legs. you’re pulling on socks and your shoes as you continue to listen to richie’s voicemail.

“i’m sorry that i kissed you, and i’m sorry that i dragged you into this m-mess, that i used heather as an excuse to ignore my feelings for you. i-i love you so fucking much, and i’m just so scared of hurting you. i’m so sorry that i hurt you, y/n.”

you have to see him.

“-and, um, i’m sorry i left this voice message. this is probably the worst way to find this out but i figured that it would be easier for us to ignore if it wasn’t in person- y’know, because you don’t have to respond. just- now you know. that i’m sorry, and that i don’t expect you to forgive me or want to speak to me for a while. i just- i need you to know that you’re so loved, y/n. and that you deserve so much better than me.

“so, um, okay. i’ll let you sleep now. b-bye.” he whispers the end and then the line cuts dead.

you’re left with shaking breath and tears in your eyes as his voice rings in your head. you try to take in what he’s just said, but you think you’re about to pass out.

how can richie love you back?

you brush your teeth almost aggressively as your heart beats erratically in your chest and then you’re suddenly flying down the snowy road towards the tozier’s house.

you realize too late that you look completely awry, hair unbrushed, eyes puffy and swollen, shoes untied as you knock on the front door of richie's house.

went opens the door, richie’s younger sister sat on his hip as he smiles at you, "y/n! long time no see. richie's upstairs in his room."

you smile at him in thanks, too rushed to say anything to him or munch. then you’re all but sprinting up the stairs, only feeling the anxiety as you throw open the door to his bedroom.

you're relieved that he's laying in his bed, surrounded by pillows and fluffy comforters as he jumps from the noise of your arrival.

when he sits up, neither of you say anything. his eyes are red and rimmed with tears, a heartbreaking sight as his lower lip trembles slightly. you're sure you look the same as you take a step towards his bed, your eyes not leaving each other's for a second.

he looks incredible, still.

"y/n..." he whispers finally, his eyes wide. "did you get my message?" he says, lips tilting in a stupid, forced smile. his voice holds no humor in it's sad thickness, though, and you sigh as you look down to the carpet.

you shake your head, "can you not joke for a minute, rich?"

he laughs wetly, standing up fully and although he towers at 6'0, he looks so small. "i can try, doll, but then i'll start to cry a lot, and that's just not what anybody wants-"

"richie." you say, effectively ceasing his rambling. it's cold in his room, bright white from the snow outside, and silent. he looks at you with huge eyes and a red nose.

but you don't know what to say. you’ve spent so long wanting to be heather, but now you've found out that richie's loved you this whole time. it hurts, but you can't wait another second being away from richie.

you launch yourself towards him, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him down to your mouth.

this time, the kiss is warm, unexpected again but much more loving. it's a kiss that tastes like tears and love and trust, and all you can feel is richie as his hands find purchase on your cheek and back, pulling you so close to him that you can feel is rapid heartbeat.

he pulls back to mumble against your lips, "i'm so sorry." you shake your head, pressing another kiss to his and loving the feeling of richie against you finally. "i love you." you say, feeling his grin against your mouth.

"i love you so much." he says, pulling you lightly to fall onto his bed with him and tickling your sides.

you laugh lightly, swatting at his prodding fingers. "please stop crying." he whispers, laying above you with a small smile. you roll your eyes, "you stop crying rich." you retort, and he shakes his head, one of his tears falling onto your cheek. you jump from the feeling and wipe it away, sniffling a gasp and pulling him into a tight hug, his legs tangling with yours.

“i’m sorry.” he mumbles. you cup his cheeks so his lips pucker out and you smile at him, whispering, “i forgive you, rich. i love you.” and then you place a soft kiss to his lips and he kisses you back enthusiastically. he pulls back and hugs you again, burrowing himself in your neck.

"i didn't think i'd ever get you." he says, muffled by his face in your shoulder. "thank you for trusting me. i love you so much." he kisses your collarbone lightly and your fingers play through his curls lightly as you smile, eyes closing. you're so tired.

"i love you more, richie."

you fall asleep with richie curled up beside you, his breath light on your chest and arms clutching you against him. you fall asleep with richie’s lips on your neck, his legs entangled with yours.

you fall asleep contently, knowing that you no longer have to wish you were heather.

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#richie tozier x reader #losers x reader #losers club x reader #jewish richie tozier #bill denbrough x reader #stanley uris x reader #beverly marsh x reader #eddie kaspbrak x reader #ben hanscom x reader #mike hanlon x reader

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