#well a little bit for bev thank you throwing-in-the-towel

[purecommemasolitude]

soc girls with this: extended edition (minus anna k bermudez's soc outfit because she has yet to debut and i don't know what it looks like </3)

Top row is Cherry and Marcia (taken from book descriptions then missing details & colours taken from the musical)

Bottom row L-R is Melody Rose's Bev(/Marcia), Milena J Comeau's Soc, and Maggie Kuntz's Soc, all from the musical

shoutout to @asexual-juliet for their very helpful costume reference posts

[stenbrozier]

Curse Words and Butterflies (Platonic!Eddie Kaspbrak x Stanley Uris x Reader)

Plot: One night, drunk at Bill’s house, you and your two best friends, Stan and Eddie, decide to give each other stick and poke tattoos

Warnings: drunk!Stan, drunk/surprise artist!Eddie mention of blood, underage drinking + swearing

A/N: Eddie with a stick and poke tattoo >> everything else. Also I indirectly made this modern so they got phones and shittttt. Also also, this is based off the time I got a stick and poke on my middle finger which says “Fuck” :D

——————————————————————————

It all started with a bottle of tequila that Bev had snuck from her father. That turned into a few bottles of wine Richie’s parents had let him bring over after work if he was “responsible and stayed inside.” Then Bill’s parents left for the weekend, giving all eight of you free reign of the house. Two bottles of wine later, you were sitting in Stan’s lap, giggling softly as you watched Richie and Bill bicker over what movie you were all going to put on. You draped your legs over Eddie’s lap, his fingers lazily going to tap your knees. You were slightly passed tipsy, not quite drunk, but you could tell that Eddie was beyond salvageable. He didn’t drink very often, so when he did, he let loose and would go crazy. You were 95% sure he’d drank three fourths of one of the bottles of wine, rendering him useless for the rest of the night. Stan lightly tapped his fingers along your shoulders, catching your attention.

“I want a tattoo,” he said softly, showing your his pale and bland wrist. “Like...like I want a little bird or something.” You furrowed your eyebrows at him, looking at the seriousness on his face. “Do you think Richie knows how to do tattoos?”

You shrugged, sitting up so that your legs feel off of Eddie’s lap. He looked at you in surprise, apparently you scared him, and you started running your fingers over Stan’s wrist. You took out your phone, googling how to you could do a stick and poke for Stan. You noticed that you’d need something called “India Ink”, and you cocked your head to the side.

“Hey, Mikey?” Mike looked over to you, seeing your slightly flushed cheeks from the wine and smiling. He could tell you were a little drunk, so he was going to take this very cautiously. “Can you run to the drugstore and see if you can find something called ‘India Ink’?” He furrowed his eyebrows in sort of a disapproving way. “Please?” You gave him puppy eyes and he sighed, grabbing his car keys and shaking his head.

“I’ll be back,” he shouted, trying to get everyone’s attention, ultimately failing. “I’ll grab a needle and some disinfectant wipes, too.” You smiled and turned to Stan, seeing a small smile on his face.

“You sure you want a bird on your wrist?” you asked softly, watching him nod his head. You looked over at Eddie, noticing him staring at you and Stan. “You okay, Ed?”

“I-I think I want a tattoo,” he whispered incredulously, as if he couldn’t believe the words that were leaving his mouth. “Like...the word ‘fuck’.” Your eyes widened. “I do. Put the word ‘fuck’ on my wrist.”

“O-okay,” you said softly, nodding. You looked down at your wrist, sighing as you examined it. “Maybe I’ll give myself a butterfly.”

“Aw!!” Stan screamed in your ear, causing everyone to look at him. “Guys, (Y/N) is giving me a bird!” Richie rolled his eyes with a weird look on his face, going back to watching the movie with Bill. Bev took another swig of the tequila she was nursing as Ben held her in his lap, his eyes shut and soft snores leaving his lips.

“Like a real life bird?” Bev made a face, confused as to what he meant. “Stan, are you getting a pet bird?!”

“No, no. Like a little tattoo bird,” he clarified, drunkly lifting his wrist up and letting it flop down dramatically. “It’ll be cute, just you wait.”

After that exchange, everyone focused their attention to the weird, indie movie that was playing on the TV. Mike came in silently, handing you the bag as well as a bag of your favorite chips.

“Just cause,” he said with a soft smile. “I noticed you hadn’t eaten anything tonight, and if you’re going to give Stan a tattoo, you need to eat something so you don’t get all woozy.” You smiled at the gesture, giving him a nod before dragging Stan and Eddie into the kitchen with you.

You dumped everything out of the plastic bag, taking out the sanitary wipes. You used one to wipe your hands, then used a clean one to wipe off Stan’s wrist. You searched through the draws of Bill’s kitchen, looking for a lighter to sterilize the needle with. You found a big one, unpackaging the sewing needle as you held it over the lighter’s flame. You walked back over the Stan, noticing that he was rather anxious.

“Eddie, hold his hand,” you said absentmindedly opening the ink bottle and dipping the needle in there. “I’m gonna do those little ‘m’ shaped birds cause that’s all I can do, okay?” He nodded, burying his head into Eddie’s neck as you poked through his skin. He hissed, leaning further into Eddie to which Eddie almost gagged at the stench of tequila that had been wafting off of Stan for the past hour.

After a few more pokes, you noticed blood starting to prickle up on the surface of his arm, and you quickly grabbed a paper towel, dabbing it away gently so that you could continue drawing it. When you finished the one ‘m’ bird, you pressed the paper towel against it again. Thirty seconds later, you removed it to see the ink had gotten a bit faint, but the design had still stayed.

“Stan,” you said, tapping his shoulder. He lifted his head up and looked down at the tattoo, smiling softly. “Do you want a couple more?”

He shook his head, admiring it. “It’ll fade anyway. Wow, thank you, (Y/N/N).” He brought you into a hug, kissing the side of your head. “He’s so cute.” He gave the tattoo a teeny little kiss, rushing out to show Richie and the others. “Richie! Richieee!”

You smiled up at Eddie, watching him move into the seat Stan was just in. You grabbed another wipe, cleaning yourself then getting one for his arm, and then you grabbed a second needle. You repeated what you did before, except you tattooed the word ‘Fuck’ on his wrist instead. You tried to keep it kinda small, just in case he regretted it in the morning. He was surprisingly a lot calmer than Stan was, possibly because he couldn’t feel the needle, and his body was definitely a little numb. You finished, dabbing it off with a clean paper towel. He smiled down at it, looking back up at you with droopy eyes and red cheeks.

“Yeah,” he smiled softly, nodding his head. “Do, uh, can I do yours?” He hiccuped after he finished is sentence, giving you and even bigger smile. “I’ll be careful, I promise.”

Your mind was slightly hazy so you nodded. “Let me prep. You’re fucking wasted.” You giggled at your words, watching his face contort into sadness at your words. “I just don’t want you hurting yourself.” You handed him a wipe before you started to prep all of the supplies for the third time that night.

“What’d you say you wanted?” he asked, throwing his wipe away. “A butterfly or caterpillar?”

“Butterfly,” you answered back quickly, holding your wrist out as he carefully picked up the needle and started to puncture your skin. You hissed in pain. “Fuck, Eddie. Calm down.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he mumbled as he slowed his movements. “I’m just excited.” You nodded, your eyes clasping shut as he got closer and closer to the veins. After what felt like hours, he pulled away with a soft smile. “All...all done.”

You looked down at your wrist and saw and beautiful outline of a monarch butterfly, wings spread out. “Eds!! It’s so pretty.” He blushed, setting the sewing needle down and cleaning up the wipes. He tossed all three needles in the trash while you rushed out to show the rest of the guys your tattoo.

“Woah, did you do that yourself (Y/N/N)?” Richie incredulously asked. You shook your head, smiling back at the kitchen to see Eddie coming out after his cleanup of the counter.

“Eddie did it,” you shrieked happily, running up to him and tackling him. “Isn’t he an amazing artist?!”

“(Y/N/N), Stan, go wash them off,” he said sternly, a blush on his cheeks as he pointed to the kitchen. Stan zoomed into the kitchen, the water being heard immediately. You walked in after him, nudging him to the side so you could share the sink.

“Woah! That looks so cool,” Stan mumbled in awe. “I should’ve had Eddie do mine.”

You rolled your eyes and shoved him as you dabbed off your tattoo, seeing it faded a bit, but it still looked just as pretty as it did when it was first done. You shut off the water, walking out of the kitchen behind Stanley.

“They all want me to give them stick and pokes,” Eddie whispered in your ear when you walked back in. You shrugged your shoulders and looked up at him.

“Maybe you should,” you answered. “You are an artist after all.”

[kxhlzn]

[iii.] the birdwatcher & his lover.

➳ synopsis: it's the summer of '89, and you discover new things about yourself— some good, and some you wish you could swallow and never see again. dealing with the newfound confusion of sexuality, you must learn the ins and outs of friendship and what it means to grow up.

➳ genre: coming-of-age drama, ANGST, fluff, slight crack.

➳ characters/pairing(s): eventual stanley uris/reader, unrequited!bev/reader, eventual benverly, eventual reddie (possibly unrequited.)

➳ wordcount: 5.9k

➳ warning(s): profanity, sexual comments, ANGST, jokes about 80s AIDS, hurt feelings, fireworks (don't try this at home, kids!)

➳ song rec: flowers in your hair by the lumineers.

➳ author's note(s): sorry i made richie cry, i hate myself too lmfao. also i love stan. that's all. that's the post. give me some recs on what you'd like to see happen to them in the future! :)

July, 1989.

the rain is constant; pattering, almost as if it expects you to open your window and let it sneak into your bedsheets, like a sneaky, horny, little teenager. except, the only teenager creeping through your window tonight is mischevious richie tozier, head full of grand ideas and schemes.

his hair is sopping when he slams on the glass, and you nearly lose ten years of your life at the scare. most of the terror racing through you isn't because you're shocked by his presence, but rather you didn't really want him to see your arms full of letters and graham crackers. he stares at you a moment, his glasses dripping with water, as a single crumb trickles onto the floor from the corner of your mouth. you consider, for a moment, that he didn't see it, but from the small smirk that appears on his lips, you know you were caught. he's crouched on the roof beside your window, tapping his knee patiently.

you don't rush to make a move, either, as you both have a staredown; richie is uncharacteristically patient, you notice, and it makes you loosen your grip on the items momentarily. but then, richie slips, and you throw them all on the bed and make a break for the window. once you've tossed it open, richie is already steady, his hands splayed out at hip height. he's preparing himself in case he slips again.

"what do you want, trashmouth?" you quip, propping the window open. you glance at the surrounding area behind him, and the sky is a deep grey. the trees are heavy with water, puddles scattered across the ground. what on earth could he need at this time?

"so, i got this cool idea," he says, gripping the sill as he slides through the crack of your window. now, he's got water dripping all over the floor, and you scowl at him as he shakes his head like a dog, flinging droplets across your bedroom. "what if we buy fireworks?"

you don't miss a beat. "what?"

"like, you know, fireworks. for fourth of july? i might know a guy."

"seriously? that'd be so cool!" you say, picturing lighting off rockets into the sky, at the quarry. richie nods in excitement, collapsing on the floor beside your bed, leaning his head against your sheets. one knee is propped up, and his arm slings comfortably on it. the water drips onto his (for once) solid color grey t-shirt and plaided black pajama pants.

"right?" richie agrees, "you can thank me later. i already told 'im to buy them. 'said he'll get back to me soon. what are those?"

you blink at him a moment, and draw your attention to where he is focused. he's eyeing the pile of letters on your bed behind him, and he starts to get grabby as he digs through them.

you jolt forward, swatting at his hands. "they're, uh... letters? to? someone?"

"your pops?"

"what? no. well, actually, most of 'em, yeah."

"he ever respond to the ones you sent last year?" richie asks softly, peering at you when you take a hesitant seat on your bed, near richie's mop of hair.

"nope," you shrug, "but it's worth a try to send some more, ya know?"

"nah. you're trying too hard, babyface. you ever think that maybe it's time to toss the towel in?" richie's hand lands on your knee, but you jerk away from him.

"toss the towel in? what the fuck, richie?" you stand, quickly, and take a few cautious steps away from him.

"no, urgh, listen. i just hate seeing you hurt yourself like this—" he stands, too, stretching his long legs in a couple strides toward you.

"what's so fucking wrong with me writing a letter to my dad?"

"it's stupid! i just think—"

"you're just pissed 'cause yours sits a room away from you, and he talks to you less than mine!" you bite, and you immediately regret it, a sour flavor sitting on your tongue.

"fuck you!" richie barks, pointing an accusatory finger at you. his voice cracks in the process. "at least my dad bothered to stay! i wasn't so fucking bitchy that he disappeared into the night, not able to deal with having me for a kid!"

you want to snap back, but you're afraid your voice will betray you, so you merely open and close your mouth like a fish. richie's shoulders are heaving, eyes blown wide enough to rival the size of his actual face, with the glasses magnifying them so much. his fists are clenching and unclenching, consistently while you stand in tense silence.

"you're right," you whisper, mostly to yourself, and you cradle your arms against your chest. you lean up against your wall and slide down until your arms hug your knees. richie gapes, mutters out a few incoherent words, and then collapses in front of you, his hands on your arms.

"no, fuck, no, i shouldn't have said that. i didn't mean it. we're both tired, and hungry, and frustrated. that was such an asshole thing for me to say," he sputters out, and he pulls your head into the crook of his neck while he coos softly.

"it's okay, i didn't mean what i said, either. i think, i just, i know you were right about the tossing in the towel thing, but i.. i just don't think i'm ready to, you know?" you mumble into his shoulder, and he nods.

"that's okay, it was just a suggestion, babyface. you want to send him a letter? fuck it, let's do it."

"okay."

you spend the next ten minutes sealing the letters up, stamping them, and tossing them into your desk drawer for later. you sit comfortably in your chair, finishing up writing the address on the last one, when richie hums to himself.

"what?" you ask, spinning around to face him. he holds a letter up from his seat on your bed, sitting crisscrossed. his magnified eyes are glued to the words.

"nothing, you just missed one. except, it's not for your pops..."

"what do you mean? i didn't write one for anyone e—..." and it dawns on you. "richie, can i have that letter, please?"

"uh, yeah, nope... 'dear beverly marsh—'"

"richie, god, please!" you fling yourself at him, and he screams, throwing his hand up so you can't reach it while you climb over him. there are a few grunts as you dig various body parts into his flesh, grabbing for the paper, but he's not having it.

"why the hell are you— ouch! —writing a letter to bev?" richie questions, shoving at you a bit to get a good look at the piece of lined paper. "is it a looove letter?"

your silence forces you both to stop your movements, and the pink on your cheeks makes richie blink a few times.

"wait..." he begins, "does that.. do you.. do you like beverly?"

"what does that even mean? 'like'? of course i like her, she's one of my best friends! why wouldn't i? she's kind, and pretty, and one of the best people i know."

"yeah, okay, but do you want to stick your hand down her pants?"

"richard tozier!"

"well, you know what i mean."

"unfortunately, yeah, i do. but... that's not.. i can't, you know, like her like that. she's a girl," you squirm, scooting over to the headboard of the bed. richie leans up next to you, his shoulder bumping yours.

"so she's a girl. if she were a dude, would you do it?" richie presses.

"do what?"

"stick your hand—"

"beep, beep, richie!"

"what i'm saying is, if she were a guy, would you like her?"

"uh, i don't know, i guess," you admit, your hands in your lap. you bite your lip.

"then what's it fucking matter?" he asks, brows curved inward, "just admit it."

you blink at him, kind of understanding where he's coming from. you suppose you never could accept how you felt because it's the 80s, and you're in derry, so same-sex relations remain strictly platonic. you wonder if others have felt, or feel, the same way you do. maybe it's not so bad. maybe you can say it out loud, to someone.

"i have a crush on beverly marsh."

it feels empowering. like you could stand on top of your roof and scream it to the entire world, make everyone know that you, a small-town girl in maine, likes another girl. it feels empowering, but also incriminating— like you have something to hide, like you should be guilty for feeling this way.

guilty of what? loving another human being?

"well, shockingly, that's not the most lesbian thing you've ever said to me," richie quips.

"beep, beep, richie."

"anyway," he clicks his tongue, desperate to change the subject, "so the fireworks. what's your game plan?"

"right. well, we'll probably have to ask bill to tell eddie's mom that they're studying. you know how she gets when me or bev call— rant about how he can't hang with us 'cause we'll force him into an orgy 'n shit," you laugh dryly.

"wouldn't mind an orgy with her," richie whistles lowly.

"her, and who else? stan's mom? she's too high-strung for that."

"with my charms? pft, please," he replies, signaling down his body.

you roll your eyes. "oh, for sure, she'll be on her knees in no time."

"nah, she'd break a hip."

you laugh. "okay, focus— so you got the fireworks, bill's got eddie's mom—" ("he'd better share!") and everyone else should be able to make it. bev and ben can sneak out, and mike is pretty much free to go wherever. i can convince stan's mom that we're spending the night at bill's, with supervision. she likes me, but i can't be sure she won't think i'm trying to fuck the jew out of him."

"he wouldn't mind."

"seriously, richie, learn when to shut the fuck up," you scold, and he laughs, "anyways— do ya think mike could scrounge up a picnic again, or should i go over to bill's to make one? i think mike would want to do it..."

"yeah," richie yawns, and he leans on your shoulder. you sigh softly, sweep his hair away from his face, and slip his glasses off, onto the bedstand. "should prolly head home."

"no, it's pouring out. you've stayed here before," you tell him, pushing him off of you so you can turn the light out. by the time you've turned yourself around, he's hogging all of the blankets and you frown. rolling your eyes, you mutter something along the lines of "didn't get to eat my graham crackers", and you stash them under your desk.

crawling beside richie, you kick him with your leg as a sign to scoot his ass over, or else. he doesn't listen at first, but another heel in his side, and he's doing as he's told. (richie won't admit it, but he likes being the little spoon); you wrap your arms around his torso and poke his back with your nose as you prepare yourself for sleep.

after a few minutes, richie turns over slightly, glancing at your face. when he is convinced you've fallen asleep, he sighs softly and bites his lip— there are so many things he wishes he could tell you. so many secrets. after hearing you admit you like bev, he feels safer; like someone can relate to him, like he's not alone. it would be the first time he ever admitted it, even to himself.

richie doesn't know you're even listening, but having you next to him makes it easier to say out loud. "okay, so uh, listen... i think.. i think i'm like you, okay? i think i like..."

he's quiet for a moment, but now you're focused; you hadn't been asleep yet, but this is odd of him. you sigh, and snuggle up against him. "eddie. it's okay."

his breath hitches, and he chokes out a "yeah". you think he's fallen asleep after, but you hear small sniffling, and you can't help but tear up too. your grip on his chest tightens, a sign that you hear him and understand. he flips his body around, and suddenly, rather aggressively, pulls you against him, his face in the crook of your neck. his small tears melt into sobs, and yours soon follow suit.

"it's okay, it's okay," you coo, combing your fingers through his hair. he sounds so hurt, so painfully heartbroken. but, so do you.

"is there something wrong with me?" richie cries, the droplets creating a pool in the skin of your neck, "with us?"

"i don't know," you reply, your shoulders shaking, "oh, god, i don't know."

how badly you wish you did; if not to ease your own pain, but most especially his. richie tozier did not deserve to be crying in your arms in the dark, because he fell in love with his best friend. he deserved a much better love story than that.

—

over cereal the next morning, you and richie don't talk much. you're both reeling from the many emotions that were expressed last night, and you're afraid if one of you speaks, it will spoil everything.

your stepfather and your mother are speaking in the other room, and you hear the pattering of footsteps — loud ones, at that, a sure one it's your stepfather — as he walks into the kitchen to pour himself a mug of coffee. he looks as dead as the two of you.

"hey, kiddo, i need you to take the trash out when you're done," he says, glancing at you. it takes him a moment to register that richie is sitting across from you. he gets an eyeful of him, and shrugs nonchalantly, "hey, rich."

"yo," richie replies, stuffing another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. the two stare at each other briefly, before your stepfather becomes bored and pads off into the other room to inform your mother of richie's presence, as she wasn't aware. you hear her nearly shriek, worried that the house isn't clean enough for guests.

"it's fine, mom, it's just richie," you raise your voice so she can hear you, "he literally doesn't care. like, at all."

she says something back, but you don't catch it, as you stand from the table and put your bowl in the sink. richie follows suit.

"so, um... i'll call bill, you handle the, you know, and then i can head over to stan's to let him know the plan. you got everyone else?" you quip, and richie smirks at you.

"you need to take the trash out, kiddo. but, yeah, i got everyone else."

"okaay," you reply, groaning.

richie leaves a few minutes after, through your window, for dramatic effect. you tell your parents he left through the second living room, a sliding door to the backyard in it. they accept it.

calling bill is easy; he always answers, (as he is always home and his parents don't care much for the phone), and rather quickly, too. it's easy to convince him, as well, as he's kind of excitable. he agrees to free eddie.

you call stanley, next. his mother picks up, and you curse to yourself. she's a hard nut to crack.

"hi, mrs. uris!" you tell her it's you, and you swear her tone becomes a bit sharper, but she stays polite. as is the way of jews.

"hello there, sweetheart."

"is stanley home?"

"yes, he is," she replies, you smile. he's always home, too, if he's not birdwatching.

"... could i speak to him?"

"oh! yes," she says, and she barks his name quietly, a sign that he was probably walking past her when you asked.

you tap your foot as there is brief movement on the other end, and stanley breathes into the phone just a millisecond before he speaks.

"hello," he says softly.

"hi, stanny! you free today? great!" you chirp cheerily, smiling against the telephone.

"o-oh, uh, yeah—"

"i thought we already established that."

"oh. um, yeah, i guess.. we have," he sounds dejected.

"kay. i'm coming over."

"what? wait, okay—"

you hang up, and hop slightly as you turn yourself around to grab your things. once you've gotten them, you head out to the place stanley calls home, a small house right outside of the synagogue.

you knock on the screen door at the back of the house and bounce on your heels as you await stanley. the locks on the door rattle briefly, and he's there, pushing open the door to let you in. you thank him and slip off your shoes in the entrance.

"so, you wanna hear about what we're doing tonight?" you say happily, poking his shoulder with a giant grin on your lips.

he swallows. "okay..."

you capture a handful of his collar, and pull him closer to you; he turns beet red. "we're gonna light off fireworks! but i gotta tell your mom we're staying at bill's."

"what? are you guys insane? that's dangerous!" stanley whisper shouts. he looks at you in complete and utter bewilderment.

"i know!" you cheer, "it'll be a blast!"

"no, i'm not doing that!"

"pleaaaase?" you beg, giving him puppy eyes, "it won't be fun without you."

he rolls his own. "no! that's ridiculous!" stanley crosses his arms, glances at your sweet face, and huffs dramatically. "ugh! fine! only because i don't want any of you doing something stupid. mostly you, because you're accident-prone."

"you know me too well, uris," you whisper sappily, and give him a strong hug. he refrains from doing it back for a second but sighs and wraps his arms around your shoulders.

"stanley!" mrs. uris calls out sharply, and she shakes her head stiffly at him. you immediately take a few cautious steps away from him. "what on earth are you doing?"

"i, uh, was just hugging her because..." he trails off slowly.

"my grandma died," you spit out.

"oh! goodness, when?" mrs. uris asks, putting down her basket of laundry.

"um—" you think of a random time, and say, "last night."

unfortunately, stanley says "this morning" simultaneously.

you glance at each other.

"last night," stanley says, "i forgot, and thought it was this morning."

"oh," mrs. uris mutters, "goodness, child, you almost had me thinking you just hug that girl for the sake of it."

"yeah, nope, i would never," he agrees, "she has like, um, ...cooties."

when the high-strung woman finally skitters away, you and stan release a breath.

you're the first to speak. "cooties, stanley? really? that was your genius idea?"

he throws his hands up in defense. "i'm sorry! it was the only thing i could think of. i couldn't say AIDS!"

"i think AIDS would have been more redeemable."

"hardly!" he exasperates, "'cause then she'd think you're a homosexual man with a sex addiction under that skirt and scrunchie!"

you break out into a fit of laughs and shove stanley's shoulder. he shoves you back, and then you're both laughing.

"what? so how am i supposed to convince her to let you come with me to bill's when she thinks my grandma just died and i have cooties?" you inquire as you both step into the main section of the house and prepare to enter the living room.

"with slow coaxing and distance."

—

somehow, all of the losers are able to come— with slow coaxing and distance.

a symphony of crickets echoes down the dirt path, matched with the small pattering of eight pairs of feet. the bugs' song drowns out eddie and richie's bickering at the front of the group, but soon, stanley's soft voice joins in. the sun has already dipped low past the horizon, coating the sky in a hazy blue-grey, but the large trees block out the color significantly. the greenery tickles at your ankles, sly weeds brushing up against you.

a few feet in front of you, stan's pearly whites sneakers kick up rocks, a thin powdery layer of dust residue sliding around the heels, and coating the sides. his laces are neatly tied, and he has taken extra care to tuck the ends away to avoid them from collecting dirt; a signature, and neurotic, move on his part. his socks are a snowy white, and nearly match the pale tone of his calf. almost as if he might turn suddenly and catch your prying eyes, you scrape them to the heavens, admiring the stars that begin to trickle into the blanket above you. you are startled as eddie shrieks, and you manage to catch a glimpse of richie waving a handful of mud from the mucky dissolve at the end of the path, which must have been created during the rainfall yesterday.

"that's literally so disgusting! no! richie, if you fling that at me, i swear to fuck—!" his voice heightens to a womanly pitch, as he withers back from richie's sopping palm. in turn, he snickers devilishly as he circles around eddie like a vulture, with stanley's disapproving expression prominent on his boyish face.

"do you realize how sick i can get from that, huh? flesh-eating bacteria can get into my fucking cornea if a rock cuts my eye!" eddie nearly wails, throwing his hands up to protect his face. richie makes inhumane sounds following eddie's spring for the opening up ahead.

bill shakes his head contently, mirrored nearly identically by beverly and mike. you glance around at the meadow, and your heart skips a beat when you catch sight of a small glow up ahead, hovering just above a patch of flowers.

you squeal and push past the others to get a closet look at the fireflies now littering the meadow. you like to catch them, but not with malice— you capture them, and let them crawl on your hands until they decide to fly again. you giggle, spinning around, arms wide open, admiring the plethora of them.

they're everywhere, and you're in your own personal utopia. richie appears next to you, and he allows a firefly to land on his finger. "hey, watch this."

you eagerly grin as he moves his other hand over the bug, and then— he crushes it, wiping the glow across his skin. you gape at him, and then scowl. "richie, you're such a dick! it was innocent!"

"yeah, but my skin glows!" he replies, showing his hand to the others. none of them are amused, as they peer at your now heartbroken expression.

"that was harsh, rich," bill says, shaking his head in disappointment.

"i thought it was cool," richie mumbles, adjusting his glasses.

you roll your eyes at his response and continue to gaze off into the dark at the glowing bugs. you manage to capture one and cup your hands as you march over to stanley.

"hey, hey, check this out," you tell him, and he cranes his neck to watch as you open your hands, and show him the lightning bug. he slowly reaches out, and it crawls onto his forefinger. "isn't he so cute?!"

"yeah, definitely," stan agrees. the glow from the bug as he raises it up to face reflects off his nose, illuminating some stray freckles on the bridge. his eyes are lit up to match, and they never leave the insect, even when it ultimately makes its flight elsewhere.

"hey, lovebirds! come help me collect some sticks! or should i wait 'til y'all are done gushing over a bug?" richie barks, raising his arms, which are full of twigs, for what you assume is a fire.

"we're not—" stanley begins, but richie is already turned away and focused on something else.

you toss stan a bashful grin. "c'mon, birdboy. 'm sure mike brought marshmallows 'n stuff for s'mores."

"wait—" stanley says suddenly, voice risen uncharacteristically as he grips your arm. when he's positive he has your full attention, he drops contact with you, and stares at the grass below. "u-um, i got you something. i-it's not like anything big, you know, just like.. i saw it, and thought of you, or, er, us."

you blink at him. "you didn't have to—"

"—no! uh, i mean, no. i wanted to," stanley replies, fishing into the pocket of his khaki capris. there, he turns over two bracelets— they're woven, some sections tan and others colorful. there are two short brown strings at the latch on both of them.

"oh, my god, stan!" you say quietly, sticking your wrist out happily. you're grinning, and you can't explain the butterflies in the pit of your stomach or the heat rising to your cheeks. "they're so cute!"

"heh, thanks," he says, stepping forward to slip the bracelet over your wrist. it feels oddly intimate. "i, uh, it's not much, but.."

"no, no, i love it," you chirp, keeping a hold of his hand while you admire the charm. your grin reaches your eyes as they rise to meet his. the feelings expressed by simply the contact of your gazes sends rushes of excitement into your bloodstream. "i'll never take it off. not once."

then stanley suddenly stares into the sky, his lower lip tucked under his teeth. his brows are now curved in concentration. "d-don't look at me like that."

"like what?"

"like this is the best present you've ever gotten. l-like this is the happiest you've ever been."

"it is," you say softly, "this bracelet means the world to me. i've never felt so cared about, not ever."

you take the second bracelet from his hand that remains stretched out, like he's offering the jewelry. you slip it onto his wrist, and use it to pull him into a warm embrace, your arms wrapped around his neck. your right hand rests on the flesh of it, a few curls brushing against your skin.

"thank you, stanley."

your entire being buzzes incessantly as he accepts your gratitude, and you pull away. the air hitting your chest leaves you chilly, the empty kind; disconnecting with him now feels like abandoning the other half of your body, and leaving it frozen in place. you feel as though without him you will always be cold. the empty kind.

richie makes short work of the fire, relaying a grand story about his survival in the woods at six years old, and his incomparable courage that winter. the flames are low and small, but no one dares tell him to stoke them or toss in some leaves for an extra shove, as he seems so content with the low burn as it is. you all subtly cuddle up next to each other, but bill is the most obvious, physically— he scowls and wraps his arms around himself while eddie is vocally unhappy.

beverly leans into ben, subconsciously, and the sweet boy glows brighter than the fire, his skin illuminating a deep red, like an apple. beverly's scarlet hair, in turn, rivals the fire as it roars. her hair, and the way it is ruffled and sharp with each sliced strand, resembles the flames as they lick up towards the sky. the reflection of the campfire makes it burn ever the more vibrant, and it melts onto the skin of her freckled shoulders and nose.

you're cut from your stupor when richie nudges you, and he whispers, "you're staring", as though you weren't already aware. the others don't catch on, fortunately, as they all listen intently to the process of shelving meat, as expressed by mike. you find it riveting, really — as riveting as the tale of processed and packaged animal flesh can be. a silence ensues once richie makes a horrible joke about vegans, and then he clears his throat awkwardly.

"so, fireworks? who dares me to blow one up eddie's ass? maybe it'll get the stick outa there," he chirps, and eddie shrieks and chucks a stick at him.

richie smirks at him and tells him to follow him so they can fetch the fireworks and eddie reluctantly agrees. they scatter off, and you watch contently as they bump shoulders. your brows draw in, a bit depressed by the two of them— how badly you wished they knew. how badly you needed them to know they were everything you dreamed to be.

while you all wait for eddie and richie, ben and beverly disappear behind the trees to go explore this stream ben had found. he told her he felt very poetic being near it, which he had hoped would signal something to her, but she hadn't noticed. in the meantime, you and stanley stay by the fire and discuss his journal, as he gushes about a ruby-throated hummingbird, and shows you a light sketch of one — he shaded the throat, and it makes you smile. he's certainly improved on his work, and you feel a rush of pride break through the dam of your chest.

"stanley, you've really been practicing," you tell him, running your index finger over the graphite lining the yellow paper, "i can tell it's a bird this time! and it's not having a heart attack!"

he nods in approval, and he takes a second to realize you were referring to the first time you met when you told him his art looked like it was having a health scare. his dull eyes blink at you momentarily, like he's trying to figure you out or understand you— and it dawns on you that he's not thinking about the drawing anymore— but rather, he's trying to understand you as a whole— as though you are some sort of puzzle he can't quite put his finger on.

stan's attention retreats back to the journal, flipping occasionally to the next page and reading the notes he's taken on each bird. when your eyes drag down his face, you feel a twinge in your stomach— there's simply something about stanley uris that you can't quite put your finger on, either, and you rather like that about him; it gives you space to unravel and discover each day. you always feel like you're learning something new and jarring about him, and you like to think that gives him depth.

however, his face holds something harsh and cold— something that remains constant, despite the circumstances of his mystery— and it's the sadness. it's the sadness and the fatigue, written like scars across every inch of flesh, a consistent tattoo of sorrow. he's imprinted with it, as though it's simply the base coat on the canvas of his life— and it hurts you, seeing him sad. and it's worse knowing that you don't think you've seen stanley uris any other way.

and you consider, briefly, just for a striking moment— that maybe he's only sad when he's looking at you.

stan recounts a conversation he had with a girl in your shared english class, persephone— known universally as percy — an introverted blonde girl, who has a curious knack for all things odd and quirky. she likes to wear lacy, flowy dresses, and unusual jewelry. she has a rather soft voice, like listening to a cloud speak— and she too enjoys birds. he says it's been a while since he's had a decent talk with someone about the animals, and that he's happy she appears genuinely interested and engaged in the topic. you aren't surprised, by this, though; you half expect percy to be some sort of angelic tree nymph.

you open your mouth to reply to his story, a bitter tang of jealousy on your tongue you don't recognize, but richie tozier beats you to it. almost to your relief.

"what's up, whores?! you ready to blow this place up?" he calls out, raising some fireworks, with exhausted eddie dragging behind him. he looks like he wants to swallow gunpowder and then a match.

you find yourself beside him, hands on his shoulders. he's too tired to even remove them. "eds, what the hell happened to you?"

his eyes are hazy. "richie thought it would be smart to go through the shit path, and now i've probably got seven diseases, at least."

richie smirks. "didn't want to go the usual way. woulda got caught by the po-po."

"you're a handful, tozier," you say.

"you love it," he replies, blowing you a kiss.

"you got me."

the rest of the night is soft chaos; richie lights off the fireworks, and they burst in bright and vibrant colors, lighting up the night. the air is crisp and free, and the grass between your toes is heavenly. you become drunk on your youth, an alcoholic in your own right. you wonder, briefly, if this is the peak— if this is the highest point of your life, if this is what you're meant for. if you're the peter pan of your successful friends, if they will all grow to be everlasting lovers and soulmates.

if this is where your journey with them ends.

and, by god, watching the way beverly looks when she's in her element, dancing barefoot with the rest of you— the way they all gaze at her like she's some sort of angel, some sort of saving grace. the way you gaze at her. how your chest aches. how it burns, to be amongst her beauty, to be jealous and insecure and in love all at once. your feet buzz with the shake of the earth, the fire in the sky. your skin sears, like ashes racing to compete. at this moment, you swear you feel your entire being burning alive.

and it is exhilarating.

and as you watch them, hooting and screaming and letting their voices be heard, you feel infinite. like the world is putty in your hands, like they are the most exhilarating people you'll ever know and you'll spend the rest of your life just settling. and your heart calms, because suddenly everything is simple; you want to hang out with these people until the end of time.

and stanley, the way his curls glow under the fireworks— the way his skin shimmers in possibility. the sadness so present in his face has faded, like he's suddenly hazy and thoughtless. his movements, they're slow and unsure, like he's seconds away from making a fool of himself. but he's beautiful— like some sort of saint— stanley is the human form of apollo, he's the sun himself. apollo— you crave that for him. and his soil eyes stray from the others and meet your excitable ones; his expression is not blank, but rather glowing. you can't define a single emotion on it, but rather a feeling. one that doesn't have a word. one that just is.

and he's looking at you like you're a goddess— you, with a crown of flowers sewn into your chaotic head of hair, you, with your flowy skirt and bare feet— and you know no one has ever looked at you like that. it sparks something in you, something luminescent and empowering. and god, he glows. that boy glows.

and it hits you both at the exact same time, like a comet striking the earth— an epiphany in the form of a human.

i want to hang out with this person until the end of time.

and maybe, you consider, just for a moment, almost a guilty thought—

he wants to hang out with you, too.

is that so bad to wish for?

a person to spend the rest of your youth with?

a person to spend the rest of your life with?

a person to call your own?

and by god, you want it to be him.

let your cries shake the earth, if it isn't.

[🌿] taglist:

@hannarudick @cedricisnotonfire @russian-romanova

[1mfa0]

Oh fuck

Fandom : IT

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

Word count : 2068

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

“Which one looks better?”

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

“Uh-um the blue one.” he replied 

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

“Now it's your turn spaghetti,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ok can we go now please?”

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Richie I wanna go home.��

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh richie”

---

Eddie shot up out of bed,

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

“Oh fuck. oh fuck. oh fuck” 

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

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

“um-” 

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

“Yes- uh eddie are you-”

“Yes.”

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

“Oh fuck”

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

The bathroom door swung open. Richie was still fucking naked 

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

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

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

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

Riche was pacing back and forth from the bathroom. 

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

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

“Richie you don't know that we-” 

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

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

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

“You kissed me” richie said laughing

“Whatever dickwad you kissed me back.” 

---

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

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

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

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

“no never” 

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

Eddie almost choked on his bagel.

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

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

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

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

“Who came on to who?” she said excitedly

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

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

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

“HA SO YOU ADMIT TO IT!”

“Oh fuck you. Like really, fuck you”

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

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

“Well do you like him like that?”

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

To be continued.

---

Notes : 

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

[extrovertedsoftgoth]

A promise is a promise, Tozier.

Summary: Just as Richie is about to leave Derry for good, memories of an old friend stop him in his tracks, causing him to think of a promise he made to Stan a long time ago. After heading back and experiencing everything from caring for Eddie after he got stabbed by Bowers, to getting caught in the deadlights, it seems like the time is now or never: Richie is about to take Eddie to the kissing bridge and reveal a secret he's kept for twenty seven years. Rating: Explicit (chapter three, specifically).

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20816231/chapters/49480328

I have a week off university and plan on spending it writing fanfiction none stop, sending me any pairing and/or prompt! ❤

Chapter 1: Mourning memories “Thanks for showing up, Stanley.” 

Richie slumped deeper into the wooden pew, tilting his head back and covering his face with his hands, fingertips just resting under the edges of his glasses. A moment ago he had been hellbent on leaving everything behind, deciding living out Bev’s horrific dreams of his future death was better than having a dumb fucking clown spill his ‘dirty little secret’ to everyone. But, just as he was getting ready to pull out of Derry, Stan’s name caught his eye in the window of a building he hadn’t entered for years, and now here he was. Breathing into his hands, Richie slowly moved them back from his face and blinked, letting a few suppressed tears finally find their way to the surface. So much was happening to him and all of it coming so fast, the man hadn’t even had a moment to truly sit and process the death of one of his best friends. Although he was crying, a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, allowing the memories of Stan to replay on loop inside his head, thinking back to how Stanley Uris truly was the best. Mixed feelings were circling around his heart, the pain of losing Stan swelling up alongside the happiness of recovering so many memories since leaving Derry. Everything was so quiet here, not even a car passing by outside to cast in light and make shadows sweep across the walls appeared to break the silence. In that moment, Richie felt like not even Pennywise could hurt him in any way, shape or form while he was in this room. Sinking further into the pew, eyes drifting to the ceiling, Richie began to replay a memory he hadn’t thought about for a long, long time. Stan and Richie walked side by side together, pushing their bikes along the pavement as they headed towards Stan’s house. “You know you’ve been really quiet today, is everything okay, Rich?” Stan asked, his soft voice full of genuine worry for his friend. Richie swallowed, knowing the care Stan felt for him in that moment meant more to him than he could ever explain. “I don’t know,” he finally replied, having no heart to cover it up with jokes or clever comments today.

Stan frowned, nudging Richie with his shoulder to direct the boy off the path, and instead of home, heading towards a shaded tree where their bikes were quickly discarded. Sitting down with his back against the large old oak, Stan waited for Richie to follow his movements and let a few moments of silence go by before speaking again. “Do you want to try to explain it?” “I don’t know if I can,” Richie’s voice was barely audible as he pushed his glasses up, eyes fixed to the ground. Stan gave a soft smile, shrugging, “that’s okay, we can just sit here for a while if you want to.”

Meant as a reassuring and friendly gesture, Stan lifted his hand and went to pat Richie’s knee, but the action had the boy flinching away like Stan had just given him an electric shock. Stan instantly drew his hand back, staying still as the bewilderment of the situation hung in the air, while Richie felt nothing but incredibly stupid. “That.” Richie bit his lip, looking away in discomfort. “That’s the problem,” his voice was a whisper, pulling his knees into his chest to make himself as small as possible. “I just don't think I’ll ever have a girl touching my knee,” Richie said, though as soon as the words left his mouth he felt even more idiotic. “Richie, don’t say that, just because Bill and Bev seem to like each other doesn’t mean a girl won’t ever like-.” “I don’t want a girl to touch my stupid knee, or whatever, Stan. I don’t…” Richie emphasised the ‘I’ in his statement, shrinking smaller still.

A moment of quiet passed, broken only by the wind picking up here and there, disturbing the branches above the boy’s heads and causing them to rustle. “Oh,” Stan answered after processing Richie’s fumbled statement, realising exactly what his friend meant. “Well, I bet a lot of people feel like that, and maybe you can meet people like that one day, and have someone who you want to pat your knee in your life,” the boy jokingly nudged Richie about the knee comment, making him laugh and roll his eyes. “You don’t think that’s weird?” Richie asked, still not brave enough to bring his eyes to Stan, part of him unable to believe his secret wasn’t something wrong or dirty. “I think Derry is weird, and you’re probably the weirdest friend I have. But not because of that, Rich. I won’t tell anyone, you know that, but I wouldn’t ever not want to be your friend because of something like that. I think you’re really cool, Richie, weird cool, but still cool.”

The boy finally turned his head to look at Stan, feeling a little less delicate than before, and began to laugh hard. Stan was relieved to see that usual cocky and joyful expression on Richie’s face, grinning back at his friend and started to laugh too. Stan really didn’t care about any of that, as long as he got to be friends with the losers forever, what else mattered? The tension of the moment now fully melted into relaxed laughter, Stan raised his eyebrows at Richie curiously.

“So, is there any person?” He asked tentatively, not wanting to push Richie too far too fast. “Yeah, I think so,” Richie answered, honest, thinking about a boy with a broken arm. “Well, I hope one day you get to tell them and everything.” Stan smiled at Richie, wanting his friend to feel like the world wasn’t so overwhelming. “Thanks, Stanley.” “Do you want to go to the arcade before you come over? I’ll let you win at street fighter.” Richie snorted, rolling his eyes at Stan. “You’re like the worst fucking person in the world at that game, ‘let me win’, oh my god-.”

The next part of the conversation began to fade away into nothing, Richie coming back to the reality of being an adult, sat in a lonely room marking the death of his friend. Stan was the weakest for himself, but was always the strongest for everyone else, and Richie felt his stomach turn over in pure grief over never getting to know what the man was like all grown up. All the sudden feelings hitting his system made Richie feel like he was submerged in water, starting to become crushed under all these different feelings. Richie tried to hold onto reality, clinging to anything he could to ground himself, knowing Stan wouldn’t want him to fall apart and especially not now. Thinking of his friend, Richie heard a small voice in the back of his mind telling him Rich don’t go, you’re not done yet. Suddenly standing, Richie decided to stay in Derry, turning towards the doors with the intention of getting back into his car and heading out to find his friends. Stan had already died because of this, and Richie sure as hell wasn’t going to let anyone else die too. Just before he left, gripping the door handle, Richie looked back over his shoulder into the empty room. “If we don’t die doing this, Stan, I’ll tell him, I promise.” And with that, Richie left. Chapter 2: Deadlights. “Guys! GUYS!”

Beverly and Ben instantly began to move, running up the stairs as fast as they could. Pennywise? Something somehow worse? Whatever it was, the way Eddie called out made each of their thoughts go straight to the worst case scenario, especially Bev’s. Beverly shouted back Eddie’s name with her fingers crossed he wasn’t already dead, watching as someone stepped out of his bathroom.

Ben’s breath was caught in his throat as he took the sight in, and Beverly screamed, dashing to Eddie’s side as his cheek bled from a large gash in the middle of it.

“Bowers is in my room,” Eddie managed to get out in a somehow quite calm voice, even though the ‘o’ in Bowers caused blood to come pouring out of Eddie’s mouth like a waterfall.

“Oh my God!” Bev’s hands shot up, trying to squeeze the wound together to stop some of the blood flow, a spiking panic beginning to make her feel sick when the reality of this not being a trick but a real life threatening injury upon her friend set in.

Trusting Beverly, knowing she could do anything, Ben leapt forward and rushed into the bathroom, his eyes darting over every drop of Eddie’s blood. Moving to the window, Ben saw Bowers right there, looking him in the eyes for the first time in twenty seven years, and Ben’s stomach began to ache. Pulling himself out of the memories involving Bowers, Ben grabbed the towels on top of the rack and left the room and the bully behind, throwing a towel to Bev on his way out. Huddling on the stairs together, Ben put as much pressure on Eddie’s cheek as possible as Bev mopped up his face and shirt.

“Richie,” Eddie coughed, beginning to hate the way blood tasted with a passion, “where’s Richie?” The question made Ben’s stomach flip once again, realising he couldn’t see the man’s car out the window when he saw Bowers, even though Ben was sure he’d convinced the man to stay.

“Is he okay?” Eddie asked, barely there, beginning to slump back against the stairs as the adrenaline of the moment started to fade away, the shock of being stabbed and stabbing back finally setting in; and Eddie’s world went black.

“Shit!” Taking a bloodied towel, Beverly quickly pushed it under Eddie’s head to give him some support, looking at Ben with wide eyes. “He’s okay, he’s okay, he’s just- he’s just Eddie, right?” Ben forced a smile, reassuring Beverly that the fainting wasn’t as worrying as it could be. “We need to stop the bleeding, there’s a first aid kit downstairs, I’ll be right back, I swear.” Ben squeezed Beverly’s hand, letting her take over care of Eddie’s cheek as he got up in search of the kit.

Frantically opening draws and cupboards, Ben searched for the kit as fast as he could. The main entrance doors pushed open, Ben whipping his head around mid search and grabbing the closest thing to him, planning to use it as a weapon while expecting to see Bowers walk in. Thanking God as he saw Richie’s face, Ben dropped the heavy lamp back onto the table as the light reflected off Richie’s face; the streaks left behind by tears still visible. Reminding himself of the situation upstairs, Ben pushed wanting to ask if Richie was okay to the back of his mind as Eddie took priority.

“Richie, upstairs, now!” Ben pleaded, the fear in his voice causing it to break a little. “What? What’s going-.” “Richie!” This time it was Beverly, her voice even more shaken than Ben’s. “Richie, it’s Eddie, please!”

Before his brain had even registered his body moving, Richie was already halfway up the stairs and rounding the corner when he saw Bev cradling an unconscious Eddie, blood everywhere. Almost every single negative emotion experienced by man ran through Richie in that moment, acting without thinking as he dropped down on one knee. Carefully hooking each arm under Eddie’s legs and neck, Richie lifted the smaller man up and held Eddie as close as possible, Bev following as they moved Eddie into the nearest bedroom. Richie was silent as they paced, feeling his chest absolutely cave in on itself as he placed Eddie down onto the bed, hands shaking.

Richie almost shouted his words, too panicked to control his voice. “What the fuck happened?” “Bowers,” breathed Beverly, craving a cigarette, “he must have snuck in and he- he stabbed Eddie.”

Richie’s blood ran cold.

Heavy footsteps on the stairs followed, Ben clutching to the first aid kit and joining the others in the room, all leaning over Eddie. Richie fell back, collapsing into the dresser chair as time became a blur, wanting to help but feeling as if ice had locked around every single joint in his body. Ben and Beverly worked as fast as they could to patch Eddie up and bring him back around. When almost done, Ben filled Richie in on everything he had missed, explaining the way Bowers pulled the knife out of himself before leaving, and how Eddie had somehow found the courage to stab and fend off the bully.

He’s always had the courage, is what Richie wanted to say, but the man wasn’t even sure he was in control of his own body at that moment.

“It’s not as bad as it could be, sweetie, he’s going to be okay,” Beverly spoke softly, turning to look at Richie with kind eyes after finishing putting the last plaster down. Ben watched her curiously, part of him wondering how Bev knew so much about dressing wounds.

Richie nodded in response, but the words washed over him like a breeze, too caught up in his own inner turmoil to really come back to reality just yet. A distant tone came from another room, a phone ringing, and Ben left to answer it. Beverly sighed softly as she moved away from Eddie and stood by Richie’s side, gently beginning to brush her fingers through Richie’s hair. He naturally leaned into her touch like the action was something familiar, closing his eyes as he dug his nails down into his palms, letting Bev’s compassion bring Richie back from wherever he was.

“Remember how close we were as kids?” Beverly asked softly, causing Richie to frown at the new topic. “I remembered, last night, how much time we actually used to spend together. Shocking, right?” She tried to joke, a half hearted laugh leaving her lips. Richie thought about it, leaning closer into Bev’s touch still, giving a small nod after a few moments. “I remember,'' he mumbled, relaxing his hands. “I remember when I knew your birthday and no one else did, and everyone accused me of getting replaced with a robot.”

Both friends began to smile, allowing a brief moment of glory days to take away from the gloomy feeling hanging over the room. Richie finally pulled back from Bev’s fingers raking through his hair, feeling cold without the comfort, turning his head to the side and looking up at Beverly. Her shadow covered Richie’s face, and Bev could see tears lining his eyes behind the man’s glasses.

“Why’d you think of that now?” “Just wanted to remind you how much we shared together, so you know I’m serious with what I say next.” One hundred things rushed through Richie’s mind, all bad, and his jaw clenched.

“What?” “Eddie just took a knife to the face, but when we were trying to stop the bleeding, the first thing he did was ask for you and if you were okay, Richie.”

The man’s jaw grew even more tight now, but for a very different reason, his teeth grinding together as he tried to find words. “It’s my fault, I should have been here-.” “No, honey, that’s not what I’m saying,” Beverly whispered, tucking her hair behind her ear as she moved to stand in front of Richie, crouching down to meet the man’s level, hands resting on his knees. “I just think once all this is over with and we win, we all deserve a happy ending, and maybe your one is closer than you think.” Bev smiled softly, watching the words sink into her friend’s mind as she squeezed Richie’s knee. “I’m going to go check on Ben, okay?”

Richie nodded, following Beverley with his eyes as she left the room. He could barely remember half the things he told her when they were younger, but he certainly remembered the first time he ever tried a cigarette. Everyone else was busy for one reason or another, and so it was just Richie and Bev in the clubhouse, and he almost threw up when he tried her cigarette. She laughed so hard her eyes got watery, and Richie flipped her off. They shared the whole day there together, each hour that passed causing the two to discuss more intimate topics. Eventually, Beverly told Richie how she felt about Bill, and Richie told her how he felt about Eddie. They never shared a cigarette again after that day, but they shared a lot of other things instead.

Standing on shaking legs, Richie moved over to the bed to perch next to Eddie, his heart breaking over the blood stains covering the man’s clothes. “Jesus, Eds,” Richie muttered, bringing his hand up to timidly trace Eddie’s knuckles. “If this was the other way around, I’m sure you’d do the same thing for me.” And with that, Richie slapped him. Not too hard, against the undamaged cheek, the sudden shock of contact seeming to be enough to bring Eddie back around with a spluttering gasp. Richie grinned, placing both hands on Eddie’s shoulders to keep him settled in bed.

“Relax, it’s just me, you’re okay.” “Did- did you just slap me?” Eddie scowled, shifting to sit with his back against the headboard. “What, and let you miss out on all the fun? Couldn’t face Pennywise without you, Eds.” “Don’t call me that, asshole.” Richie hesitated for a moment, but slowly began to move his hand down from the man’s shoulder to rest it on top of Eddie’s own. The injured man didn’t protest, and part of Richie  wanted to link fingers with Eddie deep down, but fear was in the driver’s seat and there was no chance of that happening. “You feeling okay?” “I just fucking stabbed Bowers, man, I feel like a hero.” Richie snorted in response, shaking his head at the statement and falling in love with the way Eddie smiled as he said it. “Totally, yeah, my hero,” Richie mumbled, his stomach knotting up with shyness as he spoke. “I thought he got to you first, I thought he…” Eddie trailed off, deciding to not refresh that particular image was the best idea.

Eddie let his eyes lock with Richie’s, ignoring the pain in his cheek caused by speaking. He didn’t know whether it was the ache in his jaw or the blood loss, but his whole face felt like it was on fire since Richie touched his hand, and he seemed to be struggling to get out exactly what he wanted to say. Without warning, his body lurched forward and Eddie’s arms wrapped around the other man. Head spinning, it took Richie a moment to realise this was a hug, and Eddie hadn’t moved like that because he was going to be sick. This wasn’t just a hug, though, this was a death grip you give to someone who you never, ever want to let go of. Without thinking, Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie’s back and dropped his forehead down against the man’s shoulder, melting into the embrace. He had never been so close to Eddie before, not like this, and even Richie couldn’t fight back to urge to bury his face into Eddie’s neck.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Richie. I hate every last thing about this fucking town, but not you, never you. People like Bowers, they all made me feel like I was just nothing, you know? A stupid fucking kid with an inhaler who was always scared. But not you, never you… You’re special, still are,” Eddie mumbled, each word hitting Richie like a train. “Special?” Richie repeated, his mouth so dry that was all he could get out. He’d never heard Eddie speak like this before, his whole world was on fire. “Of course you are, idiot. I might have forgotten everything about Derry but I never forgot you. Not fully, anyway, you were always in the back of my mind one way or another. How do you think I knew you didn’t even write your own fucking comedy shows?”

Richie couldn’t hide the laugh Eddie drew out of him with the final comment, catching him so off guard the man pulled away from the hug to fully laugh out loud, forgetting for a moment exactly why they were in Derry. Eddie was staring at him, Richie able to feel his stomach flipping again, starting to move his hand because fuck it. Delicately, Richie pressed his fingers to Eddie’s face, cupping the undamaged cheek and tracing Eddie’s jaw with his thumb. Shifting and pulling the man closer, Richie rested his forehead against Eddie’s as the man took a moment to sit like this and treasure the fact Eddie was alive and calling him special.

“Eddie spaghetti, I swear to God, the next time I see Bowers I’m going to kill him for touching you.” Richie had never meant something so much in his life, sliding the fingers of his free hand forward to hook his pinky finger around Eddie’s own. “I promise.”

It felt like time had stopped, and in that moment only Richie and Eddie existed in the whole world. Pulling back, Richie thought about kissing Eddie, and yet even like this, the action got caught in his throat. Eddie opened his mouth, about to say something that was very important. Richie was transfixed on the way the man’s lips moved, inching closer.

“Richie.” “Eds…”

There was a knock on the door, pushed open soon after as Ben stepped into the room, both men on the bed putting space between themselves without thinking. Ben wouldn’t care, of course he wouldn’t, but this was all still so fragile, it didn’t feel like something that could be put on public display just yet.

“Oh thank God you’re awake, feeling okay Eddie?” Ben asked, visibly relieved to see his friend recovering. “Never better, actually.” Ben nodded at what he assumed was sarcasm, a grim look soon replacing the happy one on his face. “Good, because we need to go. Mike just called, he wants us to head down to the library.”

He didn’t know it yet, but Richie was about to keep that pinky promise he had just made to Eddie. * Richie felt like he could swallow his tongue. Part of him wanted to, just in case anything stupid slipped out. 

“Seriously trashmouth, where are we going?”

Eddie’s voice passed through him like a ghost, causing Richie to tighten his fists inside his jacket pockets, trying to distract himself from the nerves eating him away from the inside out. This time yesterday, he had found himself preparing to dance with a clown who was a sloppy bitch, and soon after caught in the deadlights. Everything was cold when you were in them, rigid, like frozen ice all over your veins. Richie was confident he was never going to feel warmth again, feel anything again, and yet there it was; Eddie’s face in front of his with a smile like a promise that whispered ‘you deserve a happy ending, Richie.’

The Losers’ Club fought together, ripped the heart from the beast, and left in one piece. Eddie had saved Richie’s life, and now  they were here, acting like everything was normal. Well, the patched up wound on Eddie’s cheek wasn’t normal, but that’s what life in Derry is like. Part of Richie thought this was a very bad idea, that the stuff Eddie had said yesterday was just because of the shock and blood loss, not because they’d been been idiots for twenty seven years who felt the exact same way without the guts to say anything. The idea that Eddie thought Richie as special was one thing, but Eddie feeling something deeper than friendship for Richie seemed too good to be true.

“Richie?”

Eddie’s voice was softer now, concern and curiosity in those tones sweet enough to make honey blush. As much as he wanted to, Richie couldn’t keep his teeth clamped down on his tongue forever - he couldn’t remember a time before this where he hadn’t wanted to talk - and so turning on that classic Richie Trashmouth Tozier charm, he tried to speak. It’s almost funny, how in that moment, the words ‘charm’ and ‘shield’ seem to blend together until the lines are so blurry not even the speaker knows which is which anymore.

“Yeah, Eds?” “I asked where we’re going, and don’t call me that.”

Richie opened his mouth. No quip, no joke, no punchline. His mind was empty and his heart was full, and apparently he didn’t even have enough in him for one comment. On my way to bang your mom, I don’t know about you, is what his mind lingered on, but his lips and tongue had formed their own resistance. Shit.

“You remember the old Kissing Bridge, right?” Richie asked, shrugging his shoulders casually. “I just wanted to show you something, it’s-.” “I swear to fucking God, if you’ve gone to all the effort of carving some sort of your mom joke into that bridge just to drag me to see it then you’re walking home,” Eddie threatened, yet all bark and no bite.

Richie smiled. He even laughed a little, turning to glance at Eddie, a man who embodied the energy of a pomeranian all while being brave enough to use a knife pushed into his own face to defend himself from a bully with a mullet. A true enigma, and as Richie grounded himself in the familiar and fond teasing of Eddie, his nerves settled momentarily. But, that all collapsed when they were actually on the bridge, each step nearing the spot. Shit, shit, shit.

Eddie watched as Richie seemed to swallow some sort of lump in his throat, frowning in concern. His friend was being uncharacteristically quiet and serious, reserved even, everything that Eddie knew Richie was not. They’d been through some shit yesterday, however, and so Eddie was willing to let it slide for now, until he’d seen whatever Richie was talking about at least. His cheek was aching, it always did whenever he talked, let alone laughed, but he hadn’t been able to stop doing either of those things. When the fight was over and the house collapsed, on top of wanting to faint, Eddie was hit was a wave of uncertainty. Was he just going to return to his old life? To an existence he felt suffocated by and a life that wasn’t fulfilling? So many anxieties had plagued him, turning his stomach until he was sick. But then, an hour ago, he’d received a simple text from Richie asking to ‘hang out’ with him. Bill had a home and book to return to, Mike had a whole world to see, and Ben and Beverly were finally letting their fire burn the way it was meant to. Eddie was sure Richie was going to sink back into a life of standing on a stage and receiving laughs for jokes he hadn’t even written, a hollow man, and yet here they were. Together, the last ones in Derry, with Richie leading him over the kissing bridge. A flashback to his younger self crossed over Eddie’s eyes, and a guarded memory from his youth that he locked in a box and tucked away in the corners of his heart came to mind. Eddie knew at least no matter what was about to happen, both past and present Eddie would rather be doing nothing else other than spending time with Richie.

The low echo of their footsteps across the bridge began to slow like the last few drops of rain hitting the window before the shower stops. Eddie followed, watching Richie look everywhere but Eddie’s face, coming to a stop in a place that seemed to have no significance.

“Eddie…I, uh,” Richie mumbled, part of him wishing he had carved a your mom joke somewhere as a plan B. “Hey, relax.” Eddie smiled, his hand resting on Richie’s arm with a reassuring small pat. “We’ve got this whole town to ourselves now, yeah?” Suggested Eddie, meaning that Pennywise was gone, but this statement struck an entirely different chord in Richie; the one he needed to finish his sentence.

Straightening up, Richie pushed a hand through his hair that Eddie followed with his eyes a little too closely, and did all he could to explain why it felt like an elastic band was currently wrapped around his heart and making it hard to breathe.

“You know when Bev got caught in the Deadlights, and it gave her that freaky shit to see us all die or whatever?” Richie asked, wiggling his fingers comically to further his ‘freaky’ point, and Eddie nodded along. “When I was- before you saved me, I saw something too, and if I don’t tell you about it my head is going to burst like one of those fuckin’ stupid red balloons.”

Eddie didn’t say anything. Giving Richie his full attention, the man leaned back against the bridge, tilting his head to the side softly to invite Richie to keep going. A serious Richie Tozier, it seems you can never really take all the weird out of Derry after all.

“Well, not only did that asshat totally fuck up my very cool line before I was about to throw the rock, I think I saw something similar, to Bev I mean, I don’t know,” Richie exhaled in frustration, tripping over his words a lot more than when he’d practiced in his head. “But, I just saw...I saw you, Eds, and I saw Pennywise and- I saw him kill you.”

A tension coiled upon the cool breeze passing the two men, and Eddie’s face turned a shade more paler.

“I couldn’t do anything, he just got you and- I tried so hard Eddie, but it just wasn’t enough and… You died,” his voice was tentative now, “in my arms, I held you and cried and wished with every fibre in my body that you’d come back to me. And then you did, the real you, standing over me with that dumb smile on your face.”

Both men breathed, exchanging ginger smiles.

“The thing about the deadlights is, you’re just totally swallowed up by dispeare, like you’ve gotten locked in place with sadness and you’re never going to feel anything else again. Like, what’s the point of fighting, ‘cause you’ve already lost. And then when you pulled me out of that, I realised I’d been feeling that every fucking day anyway since I left Derry in the first place - since I stopped being around you.”

Richie stepped forward, closing some of the space between himself and Eddie as he produced a pocket knife from his jacket, seeing a flicker of fear on his friend’s face.

“Is this the part where you tell me you’re possessed by It and you’ve actually brought me here to kill me?” Eddie asked mockingly, the light teasing making the band on Richie’s heart slack slightly. Eddie’s, however, was beating like a drum. “Man, don’t ruin my punchline.” Richie grinned for a moment. “I don’t know how to tell you, and I wish I could make this a moment you deserve, but this is the best I got. A life away from you isn’t living, Eds, and I don’t want to leave you again, ever.” Swiftly, Richie dropped down onto one knee, resting his left palm against the wood of the bridge while Eddie watched him, his right hand beginning to drag the blade over some worn out wood. Stepping to get a better look, Eddie leaned in to see what Richie was doing, using every ounce of self control in his body to think just stay calm and don’t fucking faint. This isn’t what you think it is, this isn’t-

Eddie’s eyes widened as the pieces fell into place. He could see it, a hoary and old carving of ‘R + E’ in the wood, untouched for years, now being traced by the knife in Richie’s shaking hand. The fresh carving made the letters gleam with renewal and passion, seeming to catch the sun at such a perfect angle they could be twinkling stars in the night sky. Fainting was the most likely outcome here, Eddie’s heart hammering so loud in his ears he couldn’t hear anything else, but he somehow clung on to self awareness long enough to stumble backwards, away from Richie.

The sudden and rapid footsteps of Eddie moving away made Richie’s heart drop, craning his head around to see where the other man was fleeing to, dropping the pocketknife. Shit, shit shit. Of course he’d read each and every sign wrong, of course Eddie would never feel the same thing Richie did, of course Pennywise was right , it was a dirty thing and should be a secret for now and ever. But in that moment, Richie didn’t have a choice, as badly as he wished to take those words back there was nothing he could do. Knees as weak as melting snow, Richie somehow forced himself to his feet and began to follow Eddie, certain he could taste his heart in his mouth. It tasted bitter.

“Eddie, wait!”

Richie almost tripped over Eddie as the other man stopped so abruptly, looking around frantically like an animal backed into a corner.

“Eddie, I’m so sorry, I can take it back, pretend I never-.” “Shut up! No, I mean, just wait, I need to find it.”  

Richie heard the words but didn’t comprehend the meaning, watching Eddie copy his own movements and drop to one knee, feeling baffled. Sweat was making his skin feel like it was on fire, Richie instinctively pulling up his glasses and adjusting them just to give him something to do with his hands. He really did want to swallow his tongue now, and maybe if he threw himself off the bridge with enough force he could erase everything he’d just done.

“Here!”

Eddie’s voice was like a whistle, it made every part of Richie’s body stand to attention and listen. Turning to look at the crouched man, Richie felt his soul disconnect from his body as Eddie’s hand was suddenly grabbing onto his, pulling Richie down with a surprisingly powerful tug to kneel at Eddie’s level. Eyes fixed on Eddie’s face, Richie swallowed a lump in his throat as he waited, confused and afraid, to see what was about to happen next.

“Right here,” Eddie spoke, much more softly this time, raising his hand and pressing it to the bridge.

Sat opposite Richie’s eyes was a very neat and rather small heart with an ‘R’ in the middle etched into the wood, looking as aged as Richie’s own. His brain stopped working, to put it simply. This was no way happening, God, he did not deserve Eddie and Eddie deserved so much better than him.

“I was so afraid carving this, I was thinking about all the splinters I could get. Or, if I cut myself with the knife, if that could end up giving me sepsis and then how the hell would I explain to my mom that I-.” “Eds, shut up.”

Somehow, somewhere, Richie had dug deep down into a part of himself that made him feel like he could do anything, the part of him that adored Eddie more than anything on the Earth. Slowly, carefully, Richie raised his hand to rest on top of Eddie’s, applying the lightest pressure he could like the man before him was made out of glass.

“You know, it somehow feels really fitting that while confessing your undying love for me, you’d somehow find a way to mention your mom in there.” “Fuck you, trashmouth,” Eddie whispered, a look of pure happiness in his eyes. “Also, you started this, if it was anyone confessing undying love, it was you.”

A moment of silence passed before both men began laughing like they never had before. Each note of their mixing voices quelled all fear and doubt, crashing like ocean waves meeting the shore for the first ever time. A strange, quivering happiness settled in both of their bodies, a mix of relief and embarrassment and love rhythmically beating in time inside both of their chests.

“Holy shit, we’re such losers,” Richie laughed, curling his fingers around Eddie’s. “Yeah, well, losers always stick together, right?”

In that moment, Richie actually felt his cheeks flush, something the man was sure he’d never experienced before. Slightly overwhelmed by everything in that moment, Richie slowly unlocked his fingers from Eddie’s hand and made his way to the carving, beginning to trace the R with his fingertips. He tried to picture it, Eddie venturing here on his own with a cast and a knife, taking so much care to carve out Richie’s initial like a secret never to be told as the golden sun sunk down into the earth behind him. So, maybe they were both awful at not telling secrets, or maybe they were going to be amazing at keeping each other’s.

“Eds, there’s something else I need to tell you, before anything else can happen.” “Of course,” Eddie muttered, his voice full of earnest. “I fucked your mom, it was a one time thing, we both agreed it didn’t mean anything and-.”

With a burst of laughter, Eddie sprang forward on his knees, hands pressing to Richie’s shoulders in order to push the man flat on his back, catching him off guard. Richie let the fall happen, his head resting against the ground, feeling like Eddie’s weight on top of him was just how life was meant to be.

“Shut the fuck up, trashmouth.” “Why don’t you make me?”

The words had left Richie’s mouth before he even realised it, but God, he did not regret running his mouth in that surreal moment. The sun was going down, hanging in the middle of the sky like a glowing orb on a string, almost as if it had been placed exactly there just for them and this moment. The light reflected off Richie's glasses, changing in angle the closer Eddie moved, highlighting the features of the man's face as his head dipped; Richie thought each one was absolute perfection.

And just like that, both began to believe in magic, the kind that fills you with starlight and hope instead of fear and loneliness. Their lips touched, gentle to the point it was fragile, a small sip from the future the two had the chance to build together. But of course, when is a sip ever enough?

Pressure began to melt into Eddie’s back as Richie’s hand swept up towards his shoulder blades, holding on so tightly like this really was all a dream and any second Eddie was going to be gone for real this time. Climbing further, Richie’s hand began to entangle with Eddie’s hair and guide him closer, his other arm wrapping around the man above him. The gesture was gladly returned, Eddie’s own hand cupping Richie’s face so tentatively like the whole world was currently resting in his fingertips. The kiss was everything, both holding on for as long as they could until the need for oxygen beat them both into submission. Eddie pulled back, smirking over how wide eyed and red Richie looked at that moment, his own cheeks just as vibrant.

“Wow, we should do that again sometime.” Richie swallowed, starstruck. “Free tonight, Richie?” Eddie played with the man’s name as he spoke, rolling it out on his tongue like melting chocolate, and God, did that make Richie weak. “You know, I think my evening just opened up, Eds.” Chapter 3: Tozier is in my room. Eddie cheered from his seat with pride as yet another joke had the audience he was mingled with laughing so hard their stomachs hurt. It had been three months since Pennywise had been defeated and Derry left behind, and Eddie nor Richie had ever felt so happy in their lives.

Richie had been absolutely thriving, deciding to go on tour again and this time write all of his own material, delivering jokes night after night that never seemed to get old. Eddie had been to a handful of the shows, loving the way Richie looked up there on stage with a gorgeous smile and a microphone in his hand. As the audience’s chuckling subsided, Richie prepared for another joke. “I was talking to my boyfriend the other day, who by the way is a total hypochondriac- no really, he is. Someone will sneeze in the next room and suddenly everything in a ten mile radius is an infection hazard. I could say, he’s amazing and I can’t believe I’m with him if I wanted to, but really, what I want is to ask something: babe, you can’t handle the thought of drinking out of the same cup as someone, and yet you let someone famous for being known as Trashmouth, give you blowjobs?”

The crowd erupted with laughter once again, people clapping and cheering as Richie grinned so hard his cheeks hurt. He had never, ever gotten tired of saying my boyfriend and he really thought he never would. Richie glanced down into the sea of seats below and caught Eddie’s eye, as well as the rest of the Losers, all given VIP front row seats of course. They did their best to meet up at least one a month now, and tonight, there was no greater pleasure for Richie than seeing the beaming faces of those he loved most laughing along at his jokes. Throughout the evening, Beverly almost spat her drink multiple times, and Mike caught Bill with that look in his eye that seemed to suggest he was already formulating a new character based on Richie’s stage persona. It was wonderful, to say the least.

When the show came to a close, some of the audience still begging for an encore, Eddie and the Losers made their way to the side of the stage to slip around the back and meet Richie. The man had just finished screwing the cap back onto his water bottle while stepping down the stairs when he saw them, Richie’s cheeks flushed pink from the post performance adrenaline. He was greeted with smiles and cheers from his friends, everyone’s hearts glowing with the knowledge that for once, all was well.

“Oh my God!” Richie gasped, walking over to his friends, “are you the famous writer Bill Denbrough? Can I get your autograph?” Bill, rolling his eyes, playfully punched Richie’s shoulder before pulling him into a hug. “You were great tonight, Rich.” “Thanks, man.” Richie smiled, embracing his friend happily.

Moving down the line of Losers, Richie hugged and greeted each of his friends, leaving Eddie till last. For such a loud mouthed man with a stage personality that could take up the whole room, Richie went instantly soft when stood opposite Eddie. “Did you like it?” Richie asked almost sheepishly, looking at his shoes as he waited for his most important critic’s thoughts. “I’ve never been so proud, but I still think you’re an asshole who will be lucky to get a blowjob anytime soon,” Eddie teased, placing a chaste kiss on Richie’s cheek.

Taking Eddie’s hand in his, Richie began to walk with his friends to the exit, all so excited to catch up and hear what had been going on for everyone since the last month they met up. Although they would always be Richie’s friends, walking around with someone doing as well as Richie had its advantages, and the group soon found themselves sitting in a restaurant with free drinks crowding their table. Trading stories and ordering food, it took a matter of moments to fall back into the comfortable community of the Losers’ Club, with the bonus of this time knowing there was no killer clown to fight tomorrow.

“My new place is great, I’ve even been thinking about getting a dog,” Eddie said, filling the rest in on life since moving closer to Richie. “Maybe a pomeranian.” "I have the perfect name," chimed in Richie, a look of innocence on his face. "What?" "Eddie Jr, cause he'll be so small and feisty." "Go fuck yourself, Richie." "See! Takes after you already, Eds."

Eddie glared at his boyfriend, all bark with no bite, his eyes full of too much love to be threatening. The rest of the Losers laughed almost as much as when sitting at Richie’s standup, the atmosphere truly one made in heaven. “Hey, guys,” Ben spoke, raising his bottle. “A toast, to all of us, and those we wish could be here today. I’m really thankful to know you all, and for us all to be this happy.” Ben glanced at Beverly, shy. “And, I’m thankful for all these free drinks,” Ben laughed, tilting his own forward. “To the Losers’ Club.” “To the Losers’ Club!” Everyone said, clinking their bottles and glasses together, unanimously hoping moments like these could be infinite.

Slowly, the evening began to wind down, each Loser departing one after the other. Bill left first, followed by Mike, leaving the four lovebirds time to have a minor double date before Ben and Bev too had to leave. Soon, only Richie and Eddie remained at the table, Richie tracing the rim of his empty glass.

“So, do you come here often?” Richie asked, shooting Eddie a less than subtle look. The man scoffed in response, leaning on his palm as he looked at Richie. “Yeah, actually, great place to meet cute guys.” “That’s awesome, I’m actually new in town, I was wondering if maybe you’d like to show me round?” “Yeah? I could, depends on where you want to go.” “I was thinking maybe your room.” * Eddie’s back hit the bedroom door as both men tumbled inside, Richie’s jacket half hanging off his shoulders and Eddie’s shirt pulled up just to reveal enough skin to make his boyfriend beg to see more. Their lips were pressed together, even something like the world ending not enough to break them apart, Richie’s back arching as the jacket slid to the ground at their feet. Hands now free, the taller man took Eddie’s wrists and pushed them against the door, pinning his boyfriend there and making him melt. Slowly, Richie’s soft lips left a line of kisses from the corner of Eddie’s mouth all the way down to his neck, the nips here and there from Richie’s teeth making Eddie purr.

“You got any idea what I’m about to do to you, Eds?” “If it’s anything less than wreck me, I’m not going to talk to you for a whole week.”

Richie grinned, suddenly scooping his boyfriend up wedding style and carrying Eddie further into the room, kissing him as much as possible while doing so. Reaching the foot of the bed, Richie placed Eddie down gently, about to reach for the man’s shirt before Eddie made a sudden movement. The thing about Eddie was, he was surprisingly strong, and it wasn’t until Richie’s back bumped into the bedroom wall he realised that Eddie was now the one pinning him. Richie’s breath caught in his throat, his lips shining and red as Eddie kissed him hard. It was intoxicating, Richie losing his hands in his lover’s hair as Eddie’s own traced Richie’s thigh before finding their way to his belt buckle. Richie wanted to faint already, part of him always aching for how good it felt to have Eddie’s tongue in his mouth, whining involuntarily when the man pulled away. Eddie licked his lips, hands now popping open Richie’s jeans and belt with a devilishly wicked look in his eyes.

“What are you doing?” Richie asked, chest heaving. “Showing you how much I liked your show, dumb ass.” Eddie got to his knees in such a fluid movement, pulling Richie’s jeans and boxers down as he went. Richie shivered as the air hit his skin, his cock already achingly hard, tension releasing all over his body as his boxers came down, causing his shaft to bop as it pointed towards his navel. Fuck, Eddie hadn’t even started and Richie already wanted to cum. Thanking God he hadn’t taken his glasses off just yet, Richie watched with wide eyes as Eddie smirked up at him, one hand wrapping around the base of Richie’s cock and beginning to pump. Every nerve in the man’s body went on high alert, melting at Eddie’s touch as he watched the man’s mouth in anticipation, knowing he was not above begging if he had to.

Eddie was kind, however, his perfect lips opening up and wrapping around the head, starting to suck roll his tongue back and forth. “Fuck, Eddie, you’re a God at this,” Richie breathed, his eyes rolling as his head tilted back against the wall behind him, his world going white. The man on his knees hummed with satisfaction, opening up his mouth and soon following with his throat, working his tongue down every single inch Richie had to offer. Hands came down to tangle themselves up into Eddie’s hair, Richie tugging to put on the slightest bit of pressure to feel himself hit the back of Eddie’s throat. Nothing compared to that feeling, let alone the sight of Eddie on his knees and eyes fluttered shut, taking everything into his mouth so well like he was made for it.

“God, you’re such a slut and it’s so hot,” Richie praised, loosening up his grip as Eddie began to pull back.

Half opened eyes met Richie’s, the man watching as Eddie’s lips moved away and made such a satisfying pop as they left Richie’s dick. Deciding not to stop there, Eddie gripped the length and began to trace the shape of his own mouth with Richie’s tip, causing strings of pre cum and saliva to string between the cock and Eddie’s lips, wanting to live up to his so highly esteemed slut status Richie boasted about behind closed doors. Just thinking about how much that would turn Richie on, let alone being able to see it in action, was making Eddie painfully hard.

“Jesus Christ, please don’t stop.” The words left Richie’s mouth before he was even aware he’d said them, flushed cheeks and a twitching cock leaving him messy and wanting.

Satisfied with his minor victory, Eddie began to give Richie one of the best handjobs he’d ever received, all while jacking the head of the man’s cock against his own tongue, bobbing and sucking every few moments to draw more moans out of his lover. Eddie’s tongue was magic, licking all the way from Richie’s tip to the bottom of his balls, sucking on them too and almost making Richie’s knees cave. Whether it was because it was Richie’s dick or the guy on his knees was Eddie, Richie couldn’t deny how unreasonably delicious Eddie looked with a cock in his mouth. Working his way back up to the top again, Eddie’s swollen lips curved into a coy smile.

“I like it, when I can hear how much you’re enjoying it,” Eddie spoke softly, shy. “Each and every noise I make is all for you, baby, I fuckin’ promise.”

Richie twisted against the wall as Eddie kept going, taking half the man’s cock back into his mouth and rolling his tongue around the head, jacking off the rest with his palm. Moaning Eddie’s name like they were the last people on Earth, Richie’s stomach knotted up as he felt all that pleasure building up to be too much to handle. Knowing his boyfriend incredibly well, Eddie slowed his movements down before stopping completely, a smirk resting on his shining lips.

“Babe, please-.” “No way, my reward for blowing you is getting to pick where you cum inside,” Eddie said, causing a shiver to run down Richie’s spine. “Jesus Christ, Eds.”

Getting to his feet again, Eddie was sure Richie had never undressed him so quickly the entire time they’d been together. The man’s hands were rough and hungry, nails scratching Eddie’s back as Richie pulled his lover’s shirt off, stripping Eddie down to nothing but boxers within seconds. The favour was returned instantly, Richie shedding the rest of his clothes as Eddie traced the man’s chest with admiration and lust. Surprisingly gentle for the moment they were in, Richie’s hands cupped Eddie’s cheeks and tilted his head back, placing a delicate kiss onto the man’s forehead as Richie traced the scar running over Eddie’s cheek absentmindedly.

“You know I love you so much, right? I’m so happy to be with you, Eddie, I could never love anyone more than how much I love you.” Eddie’s stomach turned over in the best way possible, the outpour of adoring in a moment of lust making him fall in love with Richie all over again. “I love you too, now please fuck the hell out of me.” “Such a dirty mouth, Eds.”

“You should know, right?” The two melted into each other, their kisses so tender as hands explored backs and shoulder blades. Walking Eddie backwards, the two happily became tangled on top of the mattress, Eddie’s head hitting the pillows with his knees up and spread with Richie between them. His turn to tease now, Richie’s fingers traced up and down his lover’s thighs, stopping just short of where Eddie was desperate to be touched. Richie couldn’t help but want to devour the sight before him; Eddie hot and needy while his cock was so hard it was practically fighting to get out of his boxers.

“You want these off?” Richie asked, hooking two fingers into Eddie’s waistband. “More than anything.” “Then play nice, baby.” Eddie’s pupils almost doubled in size, swallowing deeply as he felt his whole body burn for his lover. “Richie, please.” “Good boy.”

Finally removing the piece of clothing, Richie leaned over to Eddie’s bedside table, pulling open the top draw he was very familiar with to pull out his boyfriend’s favourite lube. As Richie did so, the head of his cock brushed over his boyfriend’s hole. Eddie shivered, able to feel the spit left on Richie’s member now dripping down and landing exactly where he wanted it, impatiently fantasising about how good that would feel inside him. The lube popped open, and Eddie happily took a moment to commit the mental image of Richie covering his cock with lube to memory, adding some to his two fingers before throwing the bottle aside.

“Happy and ready?” Richie asked so softly, his eyes meeting Eddie’s and patiently waiting to make sure his lover was consenting and comfortable. “God yes, I’ll even say please again.”

Richie’s heart beat for Eddie, left hand wrapping around Eddie’s shaft while his right began to slowly work the man open. Admittedly, after three months it didn’t take that much time, but there was something extremely special for Richie about being able to curl his fingers up and watch Eddie’s whole body crumple into the bed with ecstasy. Already down passed his knuckles, Richie started to pump his fingers back and forth inside Eddie while his other hand massaged the man’s shaft, Eddie’s shoulders going slack as his back arched, letting out a groan Richie would only ever have the pleasure of hearing. The man now in control went as slow as possible, wanting to drive every nerve in Eddie’s body to the brink, desperate to feel how worked up and sensitive the man was when Richie eventually gave him what he really wanted. Already digging his nails down into the bed, Eddie tensed around Richie’s fingers, mumbling for more and sure if he didn’t have Richie on top of him right that second he would die.

“Please, please, I need it,” Eddie managed to choke out, already finger fucked halfway to heaven. “You need what, baby?” Richie asked, his own voice rasping as he teased. “I need you to fuck me until I can’t walk, that a good enough answer?”

In that moment, Richie had never wanted to touch Eddie so badly in his life. One hand on his cock, Richie guided the head to press against Eddie, the lube making the man barely have to move his hips more than an inch before he started sliding in. Eddie instantly gasped, sounding like a man who hadn’t drunk for a week who just got his first sip of water. Richie felt so thick and satisfying, Eddie arching his back and begging for every single inch as his lover continued to sink so deeply into him. Eddie’s hands wrapped around his lover’s back, while Richie’s own planted themselves either side of Eddie’s head, his muscles tensed perfectly in the low light of the bedroom. Digging his nails down into Richie’s shoulder blades, dragging them the length of Richie’s spine, Eddie practically felt his soul leave his body when Richie finally bottomed out, hitting nerves inside Eddie that were already so overstimulated.

Dipping down, Richie pressed his lips to Eddie’s once again and savoured every moment of how it felt to have Eddie moaning into his mouth the second Richie started to move his hips. The bed rocked in a steady rhythm as the two lovers totally lost themselves in each other, Richie curling one arm around Eddie’s back to hold the man close and never, ever let him go.

“Don’t ever stop,” Eddie breathed, hands gliding up to lace into Richie’s hair, gripping for dear life as he wrapped his thighs around the man’s hips, everything feeling so damn good it almost hurt. “How could I when you feel so good to fuck, baby?” Richie’s words were mumbled into Eddie’s neck, followed by teeth sinking down and sucking to leave a bruise just for fun. Neither cared at this point, the whole world could know and it meant nothing compared to how good Richie felt fucking Eddie so roughly into the mattress the bed might break. “Richie, Richie, make me cum, please.”

Unable to deny such a sweet request, Richie wrapped his hand back around Eddie’s shaft and started to time his thrusts to his hand movements, making sure to hit Eddie in the exact right place with every motion he made. Hips pulled back, Richie left just the tip of his cock inside Eddie before thrusting his whole length back, the warm walls of Eddie tightening up so much whenever Richie did this, the top having no idea if he could hold off cuming first. Messy and heated french kisses made the two men burn up like collapsing stars, Richie’s legs quivering at the feeling of Eddie starting to suck on his tongue. Pulling back suddenly, Eddie’s nails digging down so hard into Richie’s back they could leave bruises, he locked eyes with his lover and moaned like his life depended on it.

“Fuck, right there Richie, please, please, I want to, please.”

This time nipping at Eddie’s collar bones, Richie went as fast and hard as he was able, his hand working overtime to pump Eddie’s cock and give him an orgasm of a lifetime. Having the man squirm and moan under Richie like this was heaven on earth, the man getting caught up in just how good Eddie looked with messy hair and an open, messy mouth. The moans that came out of Eddie were unbelievably dirty, swearing like a sailor as he began to cum, only remembering how to say Richie’s name and nothing else. Richie watched with huge eyes as Eddie lost control, ropes of cum beginning to spill from the head of his dick and drip down Richie’s hand like ice cream. Eddie’s whole body shook as he writhed under Richie, arching his back in such an intense manner the man almost sat up, wrapping his arms around Richie tight as he sung the man’s praises to high heaven.

“If you don’t cum inside me right now I’m going to lose my fucking mind, Richie, I’ll do anything,” Eddie whined, the desperation in his voice spilling over from the sensitivity of his own orgasm making his whole body tremble.

Feeling the passion of the moment overtake them both, Richie suddenly moved position, arms wrapping around Eddie’s thighs as Richie pushed them fully back, panting hot and heavy as Eddie’s knees rested by his head with ease. Richie watched with an open mouth as the new position made Eddie’s whole body spasm, his eyes rolling back as he tried to handle the intense new sensation on top of just having orgasmed. The sight of Eddie like that was more than enough to make Richie succumb to animalistic pleasure, thrusting into his boyfriend as deep as he could as he started to orgasm. Hot pools of cum spilled into Eddie, the feeling of Richie’s load so warm and thick inside him making Eddie wanting to pass out with gratification.

“Like that baby? Want me to fill you up so fuckin’ good?” “Yes, yes, yes, Richie, God yes.”

Neither ever wanted the moment to end, Richie’s hips slowing in rhythm before coming to a stop, sinking down into Eddie’s chest as the two tried to catch their breath for a moment, their bodies a tangled and very satisfied mess. After a moment had passed and the two came back to their bodies long enough for the earth to start spinning again, Richie tenderly pulled back and left Eddie empty, the man already missing the feeling of being full with cum and Richie’s cock, no matter how tired he was in that moment. Rolling over to lie next to Eddie, Richie wrapped his arms around the love of his life and pulled him close to his chest, one arm curled around Eddie’s back and the other gently tracing his chin.

“Hey,” Eddie mumbled quietly, looking absolutely blissed out in that moment. “Hey,” Richie repeated, beginning to leave a flutter of light and soft kisses all over Eddie’s face. “Feeling okay? All good?” “Never better, you’re pretty good in bed y’know,” Eddie purred, curling up into a ball and happily making a home for himself in Richie’s chest. “Love you, Richie.” “Love you too, Eds.” Richie smiled, tilting Eddie’s chin up to kiss his lips tentatively.

Beginning to melt into each other in a totally different way, a voice in the back of Richie’s mind said something about cleaning up before the lube soaked into the sheets, but this sensible thought was easily overpowered by the way Eddie was currently curling around Richie’s body like a cat. Grabbing the sheets, Richie made sure his lover was warm and comfortable, wrapping Eddie up in the blanket before gently running his fingers up and down the man’s spine. Dirty sheets were a problem for tomorrow, right now all Richie wanted was to stay here, with Eddie in his arms and the whole universe spinning for them.

As the minutes slipped by and lights eventually got turned off, the two lovers passed the time exchanging sweet nothings and tender touches, Eddie linking fingers with Richie and kissing each individual knuckle as he began to drift off. Warm, comfortable and safe, Eddie did his best to fight off the pull of sleep in favour of spending five more minutes talking to the man he was so madly in love with. Breathing gently in comfortable silence, Eddie took a moment to memorise everything about Richie’s face, raising one hand and beginning to follow the shape of the man’s jaw. Richie’s own hands rested on Eddie’s hips, following circular patterns and formations as he graced the man’s skin, his brain shutting down whenever he tried to comprehend just how lucky he was.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” Eddie muttered, eyes continuously fluttering to try and stay awake. “Thank God, since you’re pretty much stuck with me and everything,” Richie laughed, his breath hitting the back of Eddie’s hand. “Promise, forever and always. Besides, who am I going to make blowjob jokes about if I don’t have you?” “Go to sleep, asshole.”

Richie chucked, raising his arms as Eddie began to shift in bed. The man started to turn over, taking up the position of the little spoon. Moving together like clockwork, Richie’s arms began to wrap around Eddie in a way that made him feel more safe than any blanket ever could, curling one arm back so Richie could place his hand in Eddie’s hair. Their bodies moved up and down together as Eddie let out a sigh of pure and unfiltered happiness, closing his eyes fully this time as he sunk into Richie’s warmth and security.

“Think we’ll ever get married?” Richie asked, his voice so quiet like the statement was a secret only for Eddie to hear. “What?” Eddie laughed, caught off guard by such an idyllic topic. “I don’t know, Eddie Tozier sounds nice,” Richie admitted, burying his face into Eddie’s neck. “What about Richie Kaspbrak?” Eddie teased, this time causing Richie to laugh. “You know I would, but then imagine all the rebranding I’d have to do, ugh.” Eddie kept laughing, rolling his eyes behind his lids. “Oh I see, Eddie Tozier it is, then.” “So that’s a possible yes?” “Make me breakfast in bed tomorrow and I’ll marry you, totally.” “That’s a deal, Eddie spaghetti.”

The two kept talking for as long as they could, sincere confessions of just how much they loved each other mixed within discussing who exactly would wear the wedding dress. Ever so calmly, sentences turned into dotted words, and dotted words turned into the synchronised breathing of two lovers sleeping in each other’s arms. Richie drifted off thinking about exactly what he could make for Eddie’s breakfast tomorrow, their love blooming unhurried and natural, like flowers opening in late summer that always smelled the sweetest.

They’d spend twenty seven years pining, and now had the rest of forever to discover just exactly how in love with each other they were.

[hanscom]

154 and 164 for reddie? 😈

154. “There’s only one bed.”+ 164. “Stop teasing me so much.”

Pairing: Richie Tozier/Eddie KaspbrakRating: TWord count: 1,753

(This was supposed to be short and sexy, and ended up way longer than intended and way sweeter. Sorry for not providing you with porn, @wiersel, I hope you like it anyway.)

It’s kind of a long story. Eddie blames Richie. Richieblames the hotel. The place is booked solid, and the frazzled receptionist’sworn-thin patience is stretched all the thinner by the four separate callsEddie makes to the front desk, sure there’s a mistake.

There’s no mistake. The reservation says, right there inblack and white, Richie Tozier, room 209.

And room 209 only has one bed.

It’s something Eddie has said more than once. “There’s onlyone bed.” As if Richie doesn’t know.He’s blind as a bat, but the only thing worse than his vision is the idea ofbeing cramped in that tiny bed with Eddie Kaspbrak pressed up against him foran entire night.

They used to do it all the time when they were kids – sleep together,in the most innocent sense of the phrase. Richie would sneak in through thewindow Eddie left perpetually unlocked just for him, or Eddie would tell hismother he was going to Bill’s and then end up at Richie’s instead. Eddie’smother had never really liked Bill, but she had liked Richie less. She wouldhave already stroked out if she knew just how much time her son really spentwith him. Still spends with him. 

It’s complicated, between them. Always has been. They werefriends, and then best friends, and then… well. Something unquantifiable. Neverlovers, exactly, but sometimes they’d spend long hours in Eddie’s apartment,making out slowly, some sitcom playing quietly in the background, underscoringthe entire encounter with a laugh track to make sure neither of them got tooserious about it. Because while it’s always been complicated, it’s never beenserious.

Eddie looks serious, now. He’s standing to the side, staringat the bed with his fingers tapped against his lip, like he’s considering thebest way to pry the bed into two pieces.

“It’s just for a couple of hours,” Richie says, shouldering his suitcase to depositit on the bed Eddie hasn’t taken his eyes off of. “We have to get up earlyanyway. Bev wants to have breakfast, remember?”

Tomorrow, Ben and Beverly are getting married, finallygiving in to what’s been building between them since they were twelve years old.

Richie wonders what that’s like.

Eddie doesn’t look at all convinced. “I could sleep on thefloor.”

Richie tries not to feel offended, and fails. “You’d rathersleep on the floor than with me?”

Eddie opens his mouth, then closes it, looking sort ofpained.

Richie looks pointedly at the carpet, stained in small patchesfrom wall to wall. “I can guarantee they’ve cleaned the sheets more recentlythan the floor.”

Eddie gives a tiny shudder, his mouth pinching up, the wayit always does when he’s disgusted. Richie has seen that look too many times. “Iguess you’re right.”

“I’m always right,” Richie announces. He opens his suitcaseand rifles around for his toothbrush and his pajama pants. “I’m taking a shower.Feel free to join me, since we’re sharing things now.”

“You wish,” Eddie says, which isn’t his best comeback but isabsolutely true.

And so they settle in for the night. Richie takes a quickshower and then Eddie takes a much longer one, and they maneuver around eachother in the small hotel room without thought, in the way only people who have grownup together can. Eddie knows Richie likes to watch travel documentaries beforebed, and he has one turned on when Richie comes out of the bathroom, towel-dryinghis hair. Richie knows Eddie hates to sleep with a top sheet, claims it’s unnecessaryand annoying, so he strips the bed down to just the covers before Eddiefinishes his nightly routine. It’s the same sort of thing they would do for eachother under any other circumstance, but it feels different. Domestic. Richiehas had Eddie in bed before, had him pinned down against the pillows, had hislips kiss-bruised and spit-wet, but he has always gone home afterward.

Never in his adult life has he climbed underneath thecovers with Eddie and felt the warmth of his body all along his side and hadthe intention only to sleep. He feels all of thirteen years old again, and itmakes him sort of stupid, sort of playful, because he reaches out and tickleshis fingers up under Eddie’s shirt, along the inhale-exhale flex of his ribs.

Eddie goes stiff but he laughs like it’s startled out ofhim, his stomach shaking underneath Richie’s hand. “What the fuck are youdoing?” he demands, but the laughter makes his voice sound soft, amused. Fond.

“I have no idea,” Richie admits, honestly, and he rolls overonto his side. They turned the light out before they crawled into bed, but thecurtains over the windows are thin and there’s a streetlight right outside and thelong-suffering look Eddie always gives him looks softer in the shadows.

“Better figure it out,” Eddie says. “You tickle me again andI’ll break your fingers.”

“You won’t,” Richie replies. His voice has dipped lowwithout his own permission. “You like my fingers too much.”

Richie sees it play out on Eddie’s face, can practicallyhear the thought: oh. So that’s what we’redoing.

“I’m not going to fuck you in some hotel bed,” Eddie says.His voice is quiet and only a little shaky. “That’s disgusting.”

“Who said anything about fucking?” Richie says. He slideshis hand across Eddie’s ribs, spreads his fingers out low on Eddie’s stomach.His little finger just barely dips beneath the waistband of Eddie’s sleeppants. “I’m not trying to fuck you.”

“So what are you trying to do?” Eddie’s voice is evenquieter, but shaking much more. He’s always been like this: real easy, barely needsRichie to hint at sex before he’s diving in, head-first. Eddie got called aprude a lot in high school, and then more in college, mostly because he refusedto hook up with someone until he knew the exact parameters of their oral hygiene.If they only knew.

“I’m not trying to do anything,” Richie says. And he’sreally not. He’s content just like this, big hand braced on Eddie’s stomach, feelingout the way he breathes. He could probably fall asleep like this, lulled by theway Eddie’s stomach rises and falls with every trembling breath.

But he doesn’t feel much like sleeping.

“Richie, come on,” Eddie says, almost a whine.

“Tell me what you want,” Richie says, because he reallydoesn’t know. Eddie’s sort of flaky like that, might want Richie to fuck himbut could just as easily want Richie to leave him alone. Richie realizes, suddenly,that no one is ever gonna really understand Eddie, not even him. But no one isever going to want to, either. Not the way that he does.

“I want –” Eddie says, then stops. “I just.” And he puts hishand on Richie’s and starts to push it down.

Richie resists. “I said tell me.”

Eddie gives this tiny, broken-up noise. “Stop it,” he says.

Richie stills his hand. “Stop what?”

“Stop teasing me.”

Richie can’t help but laugh, a quiet gust of amused noisethat still sounds loud in the hotel-room silence. “I’m not teasing you.”

“You always teaseme,” Eddie says. His voice sounds sort of raw, somewhere between a whisper anda groan. Richie has the sudden, unexpected thought that maybe they’re nottalking about sex anymore. “Stop teasing me so much.”

“You want me to get serious?” Richie asks, and it soundsmuch more intense than he means for it to, but maybe that’s the point.

Eddie huffs out a mockery of a laugh. “Since when have youever been serious?”

“I’m serious about you,” Richie says, which isn’t exactlywhat he intended to say but is exactly what he means.

Eddie stops breathing for a second, and Richie knows thisfor a fact, because he feels the gut-punched way all the air leaves Eddie’sbody. It’s silent for so long, too long, and Richie’s just about to run down tothe receptionist and throw himself at her feet, beg her for another bed,another room, maybe another life.

But then Eddie says his name, heart-wrenchingly sweet, anddrags him into a kiss by the scruff of the neck. Richie has kissed Eddie onceor twice or a thousand times before, but not like this. Never like this.

“You’re an idiot,” Eddie says, up against his mouth. “You’resuch an idiot.”

“Yeah, but you knewthat,” Richie says, because he’s been a self-proclaimed moron since they werekids and Eddie knows that better than anyone.

Eddie rolls them over, his body half on top of Richie’s. Hepulls back a little, his eyes glittering and his mouth gleaming wet in the lowlight. “Can’t believe it took you this long,” he says.

Richie stares at him, helpless to do anything else. “Wereyou waiting on me?”

“Have been since middle school,” Eddie says, casual asanything, like Richie’s heart hasn’t jammed up into his throat. “But thanks fornoticing.”

And there’s nothing for Richie to do with that except kiss himagain.

They fall asleep together that night, as innocently as theyused to as kids. Richie wakes up to the sight of Eddie’s face smushed into thepillow, his hair sticking up at odd angles, his face more relaxed than it ever getswhen he’s awake, and his heart aches for a long moment before he remembers he’sallowed to touch. He wakes Eddie up with soft kisses and sweet quiet words, andEddie isn’t exactly a ray of sunshine in the mornings but he comes alive inslow increments, sighing sweetly and folding his arms around Richie’s neck.

“Come on, Eds,” Richie says quietly. “We’ve gotta get up.”

Eddie cracks his eyes open. “Don’t wanna,” he mumbles. “Wannastay here.”

And he probably means he wants to stay in bed, but his armstighten the barest bit around Richie, and maybe he means he wants to stay just there,in that moment, their lips a mere inch apart, their bodies tangled together.Richie, who has been avoiding his own feelings for more than half his life,doesn’t know how to assure him that if it’s up to him, there will be a millionmore mornings just like this, so he kisses Eddie’s temple and agrees to let himsleep for five more minutes.

[stanleyuriis]

the losers club + thanksgiving!

(they are 18-20 years old in this!)

- it has become tradition that the losers have one, big thanksgiving all-day feast each year.

- it is always held at Stan’s apartment because let’s be honest, it’s probably the cleanest and nicest out of the bunch of them. the complex also has a large field/park out back where they usually hold an impromptu football game while the turkey cooks.

- Bill and Ben are usually the first ones there, right at 8:30am so they can help Stan cook some breakfast before everyone else shows up and the parade starts on television.

- everyone else usually files in around nine and they all eat a breakfast of cinnamon rolls, pumpkin bread, eggs, and coffee while watching the thanksgiving parade

- Richie likes to watch the musical numbers that usually play at the beginning of the parade. he always makes comments about the rockette’s costumes or the tightness of some of the male dancer’s pants which earns him a slap on the back of the head from Bev and Eddie.

- Ben likes to watch the rockette’s routine too because he is absolutely mesmerized by the fact that they can be so in sync and so precise.

- the losers have one rule when it comes to thanksgiving: if you don’t help cook, you don’t get to eat (the rule was created because after two years of Stan cooking alone with the occasional help of Bill or Mike, Stan was ready for bed by the time it came to feast).

- Richie is put in charge of making the mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce, Eddie and Stan take turns basting the turkey and helping with the stuffing. Mike also helps with the stuffing as well as baking pumpkin pie, by his mom’s recipe. Bill and Ben help make gravy and Bev helps them make cornbread and green beans as well.

- Richie devises a plan to slowly water down the gravy when Ben and Bill aren’t looking to make them think they’re doing something wrong.

- when they find out that it was Richie, Bill and Stan take turns snapping dish-towels at him.

- Eddie has to intervene because Richie ends up cowering against the dishwasher

- Once all of the food prep is done, they still have a few hours to wait before they can eat, so they decide to go down to the park to play “football”

- Mike and Bill are made team captains and everyone wants to be on Mike’s team because his team always wins. Richie, Ben, and Bev end up on Bill’s team and Eddie and Stan are on Mike’s team.

- the game literally falls apart within minutes. Richie disregards everything Bill told him to do and runs as fast as he can towards Eddie, picking him up and running into the inzone and screaming “TOZIER’S GOING FOR THE TOUCHDOWN AAAAND HE’S GOT IT” all the while Eddie is screaming for Richie to put him down. the others watch in utter disappointment.

- Mike throws the ball to Stan and yells at him to run, but Bev literally flies out of nowhere and tackles Stan to the ground and rips the ball away from him and runs in the opposite direction. Mike sits on the ground and puts his head in his hands. Bill sits next to him and does the same as Bev throws the ball (meant for Richie) and ends up nailing Ben in the side of the head. Richie picks the ball up anyways and runs, and Eddie jumps on his back, grabbing for the ball and pulling his hair.

- Ben decides it better if they just go back upstairs and play monopoly.

- once they go back inside, Stan bastes the turkey while Ben and Bev set up monopoly (they slide their team extra cash without the others noticing)

- Eddie and Richie team up, Bill and Mike team up, and Stan plays alone because he is the standing monopoly champion of the losers club and has been since the fourth grade.

- Richie buys every single property that they land on and everyone hates it because they lose all of their money to Richie within the first few rounds of the game.

- Bev and Ben always have the worst of luck in monopoly and own like one property.

- Mike and Bill own all of the utilities and it screws everyone.

- When Richie and Eddie are running low on money, Richie bargains Eddie rather than giving up his property.

- Richie goes bankrupt after losing all of his property and Eddie as a teammate, Bill and Mike try and hold out on eight dollars, and Bev and Ben lose all of their money to Stan’s properties.

- Since Stan won, he decided that he was done cooking for the day and that the others have to check up on the turkey.

- Thanksgiving episodes of all of the popular television shows are playing, so everyone curls up on the couch, taking turns to check on food.

- Ben is squeezed against the side of the couch with Bev under his arm, whose legs rest in Mike’s lap, who is jammed next to Bill. Bill sits next to Stan who has arms around Bill and Eddie. Richie sits on the floor with his head in Eddie’s lap.

- around four pm, all of the food is ready. Mike sets the table, Bev pours drinks for everyone, and everyone else helps set up food on the table (Stan rearranges everything)

- Stan sits at the head of the table, and as every year, everyone joins hands.

- it is tradition that everyone says what they have been thankful for the past year.

- Bev is thankful for earning enough money to go to a school of design and another year with her best friends.

- Eddie is thankful for a year of good health for himself and all of his friends.

- Bill is thankful for college and getting to be with his friends for the holidays.

- Mike is thankful for getting to travel and is thankful for the love he gets from his friends.

- Stan is thankful for finally buying an apartment and his six best friends.

- Ben is thankful for finally getting into his dream school with the help of scholarships as well as the support his friends have given him.

- Richie is thankful for his friends always being there no matter what and never giving up on him.

- everyone squeezes hands before letting go, then the losers club feasts.

- Richie literally eats eighty percent of the mashed potatoes and everyone yells at him for it. he also makes really weird food combos that gross everyone else out

- Stan could literally eat cranberry sauce by the spoonful if the others would let him

- Mike loooves the stuffing and has multiple servings of it

- Bev is the person to douse her turkey in gravy

- Eddie eats his turkey with what little cranberry sauce there is left or sometimes dips a hunk of turkey into his mashed potatoes and eats it like that. the main event for eddie is the pumpkin and pecan pie, so he leaves a lot of room for that.

- Ben too, loves his pecan pie, but he likes his with a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top.

- Bill is a big fan of stuffing a well, and he only really likes the dark meat on the turkey.

- the entire dinner, Eddie is picking bits of turkey off of Eddie’s food to mess with him

- after dinner, they all cut themselves a slice or two of a pie of their choosing and kick back in the living room of Stan’s apartment. Their bellies are full, but they still enjoy the sweet desert in their own way.

- all at different times in the night, they look around at each other and remind themselves of what they are really, truly thankful for. each other.

[satoruvt]

what was found - part three

this is so long but !!! full of plot so please bear with me

word count → 1548

pairing → bill x reader

summary → pillows aren’t quite the best weapon to use against a demonic clown, you realize.

 You’re not quite sure that it’s actually IT when you first lay eyes on it. You’re thinking, hey, maybe it’s just my mind playing tricks on me, but when you blink and rub your eyes and it doesn’t go away, you’re not so sure.

 IT smiles, and you know it’s real.

 “Oh, no,” you whisper to yourself, voice barely audible. You think about calling Bill, but the phone’s all the way downstairs and the clown is in the doorway, and besides, what would two teenagers do against something like this?

 You slowly sit up in your bed, trying not to move barely at all, because God knows what could happen. Reaching for the lamp on your bedside table, you blindly feel through the dark, not taking your eyes off of the thing in the corner of the room. You’re not finding the switch, so with shaky hands you pause, then quickly look at the lamp for the switch.

 It doesn’t take long, - you thought it’d take longer, given that your heart is beating ten times faster than usual and all you can think about is that damn clown, but you guess adrenaline is a magical chemical - maybe under two seconds, but by the time you turn back to the doorway, which is now illuminated, IT is gone. That fact would make anyone relieved, but you’re just even more panicked, because you don’t know where it is.

 “Holy shit,” you mutter, and just barely relax, the slightest bit. You don’t turn the light off just yet.

 A few moments pass and then you decide that it’s gone - for now, at least - and you move to turn off the light.

 “Come float, Y/N. Your ‘friends’ don’t need you. You ruined everything. Come join us, we all float.” You hear, and the uneasiness in your chest turns to pure fear because the lights shut off and IT is right there.

 A scream bubbles up your throat and leaves your lips, high pitched and simply terrified. You’re backing up against the wall and your first instinct is to fight back, so you grab a pillow and chuck it at the clown. The pillow, of course, does nothing, but you keep throwing more.

 “Oh shit, oh shit, oh fuck, oh god, shit, shit -” you’re screaming, and the clown is grinning, grinning and you’re close to crying because what the hell is that?

 “What the fuck, what the fuck -”

 “Your friends don’t need you. You moved here and ruined every little thing for them. Ruined it all.”

 All the pillows on your bed are gone now, laying at the feet of the clown. You feel a shiver go down your spine at the fact that this could be it, the end. But then you notice the unblocked doorway and don’t spend a second hesitating, simply running out the door, screaming at the top of your lungs. You’re skipping, almost falling down the stairs in strawberry-patterned socks and worn out pajamas and you don’t dare look back.

 You don’t hear anything behind you, all you can hear is your heartbeat and your feet slapping against the pavement when you get outside. The door slams shut behind you and you jump, eyes watering, but you don’t stop. “Shit, shit, shit,” you murmur to yourself, then decide the best place to go would be Bill’s.

 Knocking as civilly as possible (which isn’t civil at all) on Bill’s door, you don’t take your eyes off of your porch. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly, and your feet are tapping nervously. Please don’t come out, you think, please don’t.

 (“Your friends don’t like you,” the voice echoes in your head. “You ruined it all.”)

 Bill opens the door and furrows his brows upon seeing you - you’re still in your pajamas and look awfully disheveled as well as frightened. He starts with a “Wuh-wuh-what are you d-” but you push past him into the doorway, looking back at him with wide and crazy eyes.

 “I need to talk to you. Now.” You tell him, and he seems to get the message because he shuts his door and nods. He starts walking up the stairs and you follow as he leads you to his room. You notice his parents are watching the television in the living room, but they don’t seem to be paying attention - they look like they’re staring at static.

 “Wuh-what’s wrong?” Bill asks you, shutting his door quietly. You lick your lips.

 “I… I saw something. And I won’t blame you if you don’t believe me, but you need to try, okay?”

 “Oh-oh-okay.” 

 So you sit on Bill’s bedroom floor, recounting what happened - from the very first time you saw that red balloon in the sky all the way up until now. Bill looks conflicted but then seems to dismiss what you’re saying. You feel yourself deflate.

 “Bill, I… I know you don’t believe me. But I-I can’t go back there alone. Even if it’s not real, I’m still… God, Bill, I’m still so scared.” You tell him, eyes pleading that he’ll at least walk you the thirty feet to your house.

 “Okay,” he says, holding out his hand. You take it and he helps you up, but doesn’t let go. You two walk out of his house, you trailing behind him just by a few inches. He hasn’t let go of your hand and you can’t help but look at him with awe and maybe a little adoration, as well, because he’s being so brave when you can’t be.

 When you’re inside your own home, the two of you stand at the end of the stairs. “It was upstairs,” you tell Bill, and he nods. You venture upstairs with him, holding his hand a little tighter each time you go up another step.

 IT’s not there when you look into your room, but your mess of pillows on the floor are. You sigh and look at Bill, beginning to ramble.

 “I swear to God, Bill, it was here - I-I know it -” You tell him, but Bill just nods, and you don’t know why you feel so hurt by the notion.

 He turns around to leave with a “n-n-night, Y/N,” but you stop him.

 “Thanks for walking me home, Denbrough,” you say quietly, and Bill grins.

 “S-S-Sure thing, L-L/N.”

 Bill leaves and you sigh once again, clambering back into your bed. You don’t think much of it, or at least not as much as you should, but as you drift off to sleep, you see, in the crack of your closet, a red balloon floating.

-

 Beverly calls all of you the next day, saying she needed to show you something. Richie makes a crude joke when you arrive - “I need to show you something,” Beverly had said. “More than we saw at the quarry?” Richie had replied. Stan told him to shut up - and stays behind in case her father comes home. The rest of you follow Bev up to her apartment.

 Your heart’s beating a bit quicker - could she have seen the clown? A floating red balloon like you?

 It isn’t either of those, but it is red. Blood lines every single nook and cranny in her bathroom, smelling of iron and creating a fearful glow on everyone’s faces.

 “Oh God,” you hear Eddie say, and cover your mouth with your hand.

 “My father couldn’t see it. I thought I was going crazy.” Beverly says.

 “If you’re crazy, then we’re all crazy.”

 “We can’t leave it like this.” Bill says, then takes a tentative step into the bathroom.

 Almost the entire rest of the afternoon is spent cleaning Beverly’s bathroom, ridding it of the iron smell and sticky red glow. You’re taking bags of bloodied rags and towels out of the bathroom with Ben, and when you look behind you Bill and Beverly are laughing and talking, shuffling just a little closer to each other. Your heart hurts, just a bit.

 You feel a hand on your shoulder and turn to see Ben, who offers you a comforting smile. “I know what you’re going through,” the smile says, and you smile back.

-

 Richie’s riding around all of you on his bike, ranting about God knows what. Everyone’s telling him to shut up (“Oh, I get it, trash the trashmouth,” he says), and you stop in your tracks. Bill notices and stops as well, which causes everyone else to freeze. You look at Bill and he nods, knowing what you’re about to say.

 “I, um, I saw something, too. Not blood. A clown. I saw a clown.” You tell everyone, and suddenly recognition falls over all of their eyes.

 “The clown,” Eddie whispers, and you notice his hands are shaking.

 There’s silence for a few moments - all of you are trying to let this sink in. The clown, the missing kids, the blood… you’ve all seen it. You all know.

 “Shit, isn’t that Belch Huggins’ car?” Eddie says, looking in the direction of a blue car. It surely is Belch’s car, and wherever the car is the Bowers’ Gang is close as well. “And the homeschooled kid’s bike, too.”

 “Mike,” you say, remembering the boy from the library. You drop your bike and start running, and hear everyone else’s bikes and footsteps follow yours.

[archerwindsor]

10 BEST Last Minute Gift Ideas when You’re in a Pinch

gift ideas

We know it’s not a wrap yet for all you pro-gift-stinators Yes, we’re talking to all you shoppers looking for last minute ideas. By now you’re likely in full elf-mode. With Santa about to head out, we thought we’d make life easier for you… These gift ideas are super fun and are sure to spark some joy for those hard to shop for peeps on your list! Yeah. We got you.

Psssttt… feeling a little stressed out? Squeeze in this soothing yoga flow or read up on these tips to help holiday anxiety. We know it can be A LOT. You got this girl!

Fitness Bundles

Girl, have you seen our new LSF haul? We’re doing a lot of the heavy lifting for you with our new array of LSF products that allow you to create a perfectly curated gift for all the fitness fanatic friends on your list! It’s super easy to mix and match LSF fitness gear and apparel items from the LSF collection. We have a ton of awesome and affordable gift ideas to help them get their swag on while getting it done at their next sweat sesh: Match up our new double-sided yoga mat extraordinaire with an LSF tank and resistance tube bands. Pair our iconic Dad Hat with sculpting sliders! Or how about the Self Love Club Stacked Tee bundled with booty bands? And you gotta throw in our LSF water bottle to make sure they stay hydrated! You’ll have them toning, sculpting and strengthening in style! (Don’t forget to order by 12/18 for standard and 12/21 for 2-day overnight shipping to get them in time for Christmas!)

Silky Gifts for Bedtime Babes

We all have a few extra special friends in our crew who we like to splurge on a bit to thank them for the amazing babes they are. Why not pamper them with the gift of silk pajamas? Feminine, soft and oh so chic, this jammy set is spun from high quality 100% Mulberry silk featuring long sleeves, a button-up top and drawstring waist bottoms. This classic set will glide right onto their skin and make them feel so luxurious, they’ll stay in lounge-mode well past Christmas.  If she’s really been a baller BFF, maybe even pair them with a silk pillowcase to help her out with the morning bed head sitch.

Bed Head Curlipops Curling Wand

Speaking of bed head, we love this tourmaline ceramic hair wand for your friends who like it hot. The one-inch barrel cranks up to 400% for luscious loose curls that stay  bouncy and fabulous all day. The six-foot tangle-free cord makes styling super hassle-free, and it even comes with a heat-protective glove. Get ready for more gift ideas (p.s. the next one is probably our fave…)

LSF 2021 #Goals Planner

Okay so, we know 2020 was a little, well, eh. We’re totally committed to making 2021 the best year yet, but that takes a little planning! The 2021 #Goals Planner really is perfect for any babe in your life. There’s something for everyone! Of course you’ll find weekly calendars like in a normal planner, but we’ve also added a ton of monthly goals planning so you can start each new month feeling strong and ready to crush it! And that’s not all – the planner has TONS of resources like workouts, recipes, grocery lists and nutrition tips, horoscopes, stickers and so much more! It’s literally the planner for EVERYTHING. Couldn’t be a better gift tbh. Shop the 2021 #Goals Planner and check the gift shopping done!

Decorative Face Mask

Let’s face it; in addition to providing safety, masks have become a fashion thing. We love these masks. They come in packs of three beautiful prints and feature three layers of protection  — two layers of high quality 100% cotton, and an additional polypropylene layer (read: industrial strength germ catcher) to prevent those teeny tiny particles from getting through.  And with adjustable soft cotton ear loops, a fitted nose wire that helps prevent fogging with glasses, these masks are actually not annoying and really comfy. So show your friends you care and help them look on fleek while doing their part to slow the spread!

Apron & Matching Mitts and Dish Towels

Ah mademoiselle, how splendorous you look in the kitchen! These French-inspired aprons, oven mitts and dish towels feature simple-yet–beeeyootiful flower designs reminiscent of the idyllic French countryside. She’ll feel like she’s spending the holidays at her rustic vacation farmhouse (and look tres elegant and *francy* taking the prime rib out of the oven).

Fitvine wine

We’re no wino-cologists or anything, but vino that’s tasty and healthier?  We’re all in. These vegan adult bevs have less sugar, fewer sulfites, fewer calories, fewer carbs, and no flavor additives. Less is more, for reals. So **wine** not give this to those cleaner living peeps on your list who like to consume once in a while — and still crush it the next morning? Because we’re pretty sure these natural wines (in moderation) are also less likely to give you a hangover.

Portable table fire pit

This portable table fire pit is so, well, fire, because it helps us instantly create a relaxing ambiance — like literally anywhere. Dining table? Check.  Bath? Check. Patio. That’s right. They will be able to transform any space into a tranquil environment with honest-to-goodness flickering flames. No fuss, no muss. Fueled by smokeless, odorless, rubbing alcohol, it’s temperature resistant and safe whenever and wherever you need to cozy up.

Tesalate Towels

On-trend and sand-repellent, these next-gen Aussie beach towels rock. They’re perfect for pool- or shore-loving friends on your list who want a compact towel to take with them on their next post-COVID vacay. They come in the most precious little drawstring sacks, making them easy to pack or store in your closet. With crazy absorbent super powers, these ultra lightweight towels also great to bring along to their next sweat sesh — sized perfectly (63 inches by 31 inches) to go over equipment. Made from cutting edge fabric technology, the towels will blow you away with an amazing variety of vibrant designs. From Bohemian, Bora Bora, zen and Cali-inspired patterns, and sooo many more eye-catching designs, we are seriously having a hard time choosing just one. And most importantly, sand doesn’t stick to them, or your booty. Order by Dec. 16 for delivery by Christmas.

Glow Bowls

OMG. This is gonna glow up your holiday gift list. We are huge fans of this glow bowl that lights up the loo. I mean, think about it: It’s 3 a.m. and you need to use the facilities.  As you stumble into the bathroom, you dread turning on the light — or even worse missing the bowl. The Glow Bowl, featuring 13 mesmerizing colors that brighten your bowl, transforms any toilet into a nightlight, helping you navigate those late night bathroom misadventures. It even has a deodorizer to keep the bathroom smelling fab. If you must — give it as a gag gift.  But trust us, they will be flush with gratitude when it eliminates all those messy late night misses (and messes).

We hope you absolutely love these unique gift ideas for the people in your life! Let us know if you have any faves. And make sure to check the date to see if you can get it in time for Christmas babe!

The post 10 BEST Last Minute Gift Ideas when You’re in a Pinch appeared first on Love Sweat Fitness.

10 BEST Last Minute Gift Ideas when You’re in a Pinch published first on https://olimpsportnutritionuk.tumblr.com/

[blue-collects-things]

Hey, I love your writing style, and I just saw the movie It. Your description says to send in requests, and I would absolutely love it if you wrote some more Stan x Bill because not enough people ship it (maybe with some side Richie x Eddie)! Thank you for everything you do! If you want a prompt here's one: In highschool Eddie comes out as being gay and gets bullied for it, so Bill (who some how became popular) pretends to be gay with Stan to make a statement and now Stan is feeling /things/

The Popularity Peculiarity

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Swearing (honestly, if you’re reading anything of mine, there will be swearing), bullying, homophobia

Author’s Note: Listen, I thought and thought and thought about how to write this and honestly, I love this request so much. Please enjoy!!

“I’m gay.”

Stan only blinks at the words said by his short friend. He is not surprised by Eddie’s confession, per say, but at the volume at which he said it. Stan looks over the shoulders of his six friends to the rest of the hallway, sees a handful of people giving Eddie strange or disgusted looks, and feels a trickle of worry flow into his bloodstream. Kids can be mean.

“That’s great, Eds,” Richie says supportively, throwing an arm around his shoulders and hugging him close.

“Yeah,” Mike says, ruffling Eddie’s hair with a smile. “We love you.”

Stan reaches over and pats Eddie on the shoulder. “Absolutely.”

Eddie smiles and a relieved look comes over his face as Ben, Bev, and Bill each give him a hug. “Thanks, you guys.”

“What are y-you thanking us for?” Bill asks. “It’s just common human decency.”

When the warning bell rings, the losers disperse to go to homeroom. On the way there, Stan hears snippets of conversations he would have rather not hear.

“Did you hear that Kaspbrak is a flamer?”

“Yeah. What a disgusting piece of shit.”

“I hope that Eddie kid doesn’t give me AIDs or something.”

“What a shame that faggot is friends with Bill Denbrough. It’ll bring the poor kid’s popularity down.”

Stan’s fists clench at his side and his jaw locks, but if he says something, even just to stand up for his friend, he’ll be labeled a- he can’t even think the awful word.

He goes through the motions of the first four classes of the day, raising his hand if he knows the answer, staying quiet if he doesn’t. All throughout the day, he hears whisperings of Eddie and his sexuality floating through the hallways. It angers Stan that people think they have a right to invalidate his friend’s existence because they “don’t like it.” Stan doesn’t like a lot of things, but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist.

During fifth period study hall, Stan checks out to go to the bathroom. As Stan is about to enter, Henry Bowers and Victor Criss step out of the men’s room. Bowers shoulders Stan, nearly knocking him over and causing the two bullies to laugh. As they walk away, Stan straightens his shirt and walks into the bathroom. Inside, Eddie is on his knees, leaning heavily on the wall to get up, hair matted to his forehead with sweat from exertion.

“Holy shit!” Stan practically shouts. “What happened to you, Eds?” He rushes to help his friend off the ground and notices the blood pouring freely out of his nose. The skin around Eddie’s right eye is purpling and Stan is beginning to panic. “Um, here.” Stan wets a paper towel and begins to dap at the blood on Eddie’s face.

“Bowers caught up with me when I went to the bathroom during lunch,” Eddie wheezes out. He fumbles in his back pocket and pulls out his inhaler, taking two puffs before continuing. “He punched me a couple of times and Victor kicked me twice, but I don’t think anything’s broken. Called me every damn name under the sun, though. Fag, flamer, fairy, queer, pansy.” He hisses between his teeth as Stan wipes his nose a little too hard.

“Sorry, sorry,” Stan says. He lifts the edge of Eddie’s shirt. “Can I look?” When Eddie nods weakly, Stan lifts it the rest of the way. “Fuck,” he breathes out. There are three large bruises decorating Eddie’s torso. Stan gently runs his fingertips over them to check for any breaks, ignoring the grunt of pain Eddie releases in the process. “Do you want to go home? I can call your mom?”

“No! Jesus no. If she saw this, she’d have an aneurysm and sue the whole fucking school. Just take me back to lunch. I have an extra shirt in my backpack.” Eddie says it confidently, but Stan knows him too well. I don’t want to look like a wuss, his tone says.

“Yeah, okay,” Stan says, with a nod of finality. “I can do that.” Eddie starts to step away from the sink he was leaning on and falls forward. Stan catches him. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie says, shaking his head and blinking. “Just a little foggy. I’ll get over it.” But Stan isn’t having any of it. He takes Eddie’s left arm and puts it around his neck, snaking his right arm around Eddie’s waste. They walk like that all the way to the cafeteria. Once they reach the closed doors, Eddie shakes Stan off, runs his fingers through his hair, and pushes the doors open defiantly. Eddie marches, Stan following closely behind, towards his lunch table and sits down. Richie and Mike give him a strange look and then dart their eyes to Stan for answers.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Richie says, but Stan can tell he already knows from the anger lacing his voice.

“Just calm your tits, Rich,” Eddie says, pulling the extra shirt out of his backpack and quickly exchanging it for the old one. Richie sees a flash of the bruises and is on his feet in an instant.

“Who?”

“Who what, Richie?” Eddie says, balling up the bloodstained shirt and throwing in the trash can by their table.

“Who did this to you and thinks they can get away with it?” Richie pounds one fist into his open palm.

Eddie yanks on his shirt, a sign that he should shut up and sit down. He sits next to Eddie this time and grabs one of his hands. Eddie lets out a shaky sigh, face scrunching up like he’s going to cry.

“I want to stay, but I have to get back to study hall. You should all come to my house after sch-” Stan begins to say, but is cut off by the sounds of a fight on the other side of the cafeteria.

“He’s a fucking flamer!” an angry voice shouts.

“Why do I get the feeling this is about me?” Eddie asks quietly.

“S-So what if he i-is?” Now that voice is familiar. Stan can tell Bill is really upset because his stutter is coming full force.

“I’ll be back,” Stan says, carefully walking toward the fight.

“Because it’s not natural!” the first voice says. Stan can see now that it’s one of Bill’s football friends, Tommy Reagan.

Bill locks eyes with Stan as he peers out into the growing crowd and a devious look covers his face. Stan doesn’t like it one bit. “You like me right?” he asks Tommy.

“Yeah,” he responds, looking and sounding a little more than confused.

“Wh-wh-what if I’m g-gay?” Bill challenges.

The whole cafeteria falls silent except for the two football players’ heavy breathing.

“Oh yeah?” Tommy says incredulously. “What if you’re just saying that to protect your fag friend? Prove it.”

“I have a b-b-boyfriend,” Bill says. Who? Stan wonders, trying to ignore the streak of jealously that lit low in his stomach.

“Who?” Tommy says aloud.

That’s when Bill looks to him again and says, “Stan Uris.” Stan’s eyes widen in shock as Bill beckons him over. His feet mindlessly carry him over and they embrace, Bill whispering in his ear, “Please, j-just go with this.” Then he turns to Tommy and leaves one arm around Stan’s shoulders. “Proof enough for you, Reagan?”

Tommy looks ready to explode, but he doesn’t say anything. He just scowls at Bill, then at Stan, and stalks out of the cafeteria. Everyone disperses, going back to their tables and discussions. Probably talking about this shit show, Stan can’t help but think.

“I have to back to study hall or Mrs. Wilson will have my head,” Stan says, Bill’s arm falling off his shoulders.

“Okay, I’ll s-see you a-a-after school,” Bill says, leaning in and pecking Stan on the cheek quickly. “P-people are w-w-watching and I don’t know how long we’ll have to k-keep this up. Sorry.”

Stan can feel his face flush red as he says, “Oh, okay. See you later.” He waves lamely as he leaves, walking towards the exit. All the way back to study hall, Stan thinks. Why did I feel jealous when Bill said he had a boyfriend? Why did it feel so good to be in Bill’s arms? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Stan didn’t know any of the answer. What he did know was that he and Bill had to keep this up. All the while his feelings would be growing. And his confusion.

In short, he thinks, I’m fucked.

~ ~ ~

Wow I had a lot of fun writing this!! If you want another part, I’m open to considering that. Have a request? Submit one here. See my masterlist here.