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marvelslut16 · 4 years

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Stick and poke

Prompt number: 7 “yes I did, what about it?”

Fandom: IT

Paring: Eddie Kaspbrak x reader (aged up to 17 or 18)

Rating: T

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: Mentions of underage drinking. Mentions underage smoking. Mentions teens giving each other stick and pokes- I beg of you not to try at home! Swearing.

A/N: First time writing Eddie! I feel like all I write for now are Marvel and IT. Borderline punk and/or rebellious Eddie.

You and the rest of the losers are sitting in a circle on the floor of your underground clubhouse in the barrens playing a game of truth or dare. In the middle of the circle sits a large decanter of some brown alcohol you can’t be bothered to remember the name of, each time someone calls chicken they have to take a swig of the drink. As the game progresses, the liquid starts to steadily decrease, most of the time due to Richie’s questions.

The losers not caring if they get drunk, each one lied to their parents and said they were spending the night at one of the others houses. So none of them have to worry about stumbling home drunk in the middle of the night, instead all of them staying overnight at the clubhouse.

“Dare,” you smirk confidently at your friend with coke bottle glasses. So far you’re the only person to pick dare with the trashmouth, the rest choosing truth and most using chickens.

“(Y/N/N), I dare you to” Richie smiles mischievously, you regret letting the trashmouth in on your feelings for his best friend. “To kiss Eds.”

“What?” Eddie looks panicked and starts hyperventilating. He reaches for his inhaler, quickly taking two puss from it. “That’s disgusting! Do you know how many diseases you can get from a single kiss?”

Eddie continues to ramble on about how unsanitary it is and you eye the decanter, which Richie stole from his father’s alcohol cabinet, in front of you. You’ve had the least amount of alcohol so far this game and the only one not to chicken with Richie, you aren’t about to start now. You roll your eyes and turn to your left, where Eddie’s sitting beside you, you grab him by the face and pull him in for a quick peck.

Richie’s eyes grow considerably larger behind his glasses, Bev’s cigarette almost falls from her mouth as her jaw goes slack, Ben’s giggling at what just happened, Stan’s slapping a five into Bill’s hand losing a long standing bet between the two, Mike is whooping at you two. And poor Eddie is gaping at you, clearly flustered and looking for words.

“You kissed me!” you aren’t sure if it’s a question or an exclamation. What surprises you though, is that he doesn’t go for his inhaler again, nor does he reach into his fanny pack for one of his many pills.

“Yes I did, what about it?” you aren’t sure how you want him to respond to that, but you know it’s not the silence that you’re met with.

A few hours later you’re sitting in folding chairs in one corner of the clubhouse with Richie, giving him a stick and poke as he tells you about the latest prank he pulled at school. It’s a prank you witnessed, but that doesn’t seem to register in his slightly fuzzy tipsy brain. By now the few shots you had to endure our pretty much out of your system, feeling and abating completely sober unlike the rest.

“Quit moving!” you scold Richie for what feels like the hundredth time, he’s moving his hands while telling his story. Which isn’t helpful since you're trying to do his stick and poke of a pac-man ghost on his inner wrist, and he keeps almost screwing you up. Eddie’s eyes are on you as you finally wipe Richie’s arm clean, done with the little tattoo.

“You want one Eddie spaghetti?” you hold up the needle you just used on Richie. You reach into the fanny pack wrapped securely around Eddie’s waist, which causes the poor boy to grow flustered again, pulling a disinfecting wipe out of it to wipe the needle clean. After that you use Bev’s lighter, running the flame over the needle to make sure it’s sterilized.

“N-no, he stutters out, eyes focused on the way your lips form your words. “My mom would kill me.”

“She doesn’t need to find out about it Eddie,” you wave the needle teasingly in front of his face. He’s as sober as you, possibly even more than you, so you trust his judgement. If he had anymore than two shots all those hours ago you never would have asked. “You just need to hide it until you move out in a couple months.”

“Okay!” you’re surprised when he agrees, so is Richie who is staring with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.

“What do you want and where do you want it?” you ask, quickly adding the next sentence when you notice Richie about to speak. “Beep beep Richie.”

“I’m not really sure,” Eddie plays with the zipper on his fanny pack, taking a seat across from you in the chair Richie recently abandoned. “But it has to be somewhere I can hide it.”

“Hmmm,” you start mentally ticking off places you can’t do the tattoo, your mind coming up with multiple scenarios on Mrs. Kaspbrak accidentally finding the tattoo. “I could do the base of your neck, like where the collar of your shirt goes. Or I could do your side, below your ribs.”

“How about my side,” it isn’t a question so much as a statement. “I want to be able to see it.”

“Any ideas on what you want, or do I get to surprise you?” Eddie fiddles with the bottom of his shirt and you wonder if he’s going to back out.

“Surprise me,” Eddie nods, confident in his decision.

“Do a penis!” Richie hollers, taking a swig of the alcohol left in the decanter.

“Shut the fuck up Richie,” Eddie snaps and you giggle at the two.

“You need to take your shirt off Eds,” you both blush at your words, causing Richie to wolf whistle.

“Look at the Edster stripping for (Y/N)!” Richie hollers a little too loud, not that you’re worried anyone will hear you in the middle of nowhere.

“Beep beep Richie!” Bev calls back, leaning her head on Ben’s shoulder.

You scoot your chair beside Eddie’s, facing his right side you put one leg going behind his chair and the other towards the front, sitting in a v-like shape. You grab another wipe from Eddie’s fanny pack, cleaning the area of skin below his ribcage, Eddie’s right hand shoots out and grabs your knee, squeezing his eyes tight before you even have the chance to dip the needle in the ink.

“As much as I enjoy your hand on my knee,” you admit. “It’s kinda in the way.”

You pry his right hand off of your skin, placing it on the back of your chair. He reaches his left hand across his body so he’s once again holding onto your right knee. You let him stay in the position, knowing he needs it mentall, and he’s managed to not twist his side and mess up your tattooing area.

You decide to do a larger tattoo for Eddie than you did Richie, go big or go home. Right? You contemplated doing a small little fanny pack, but you didn’t want Eddie to take your teasing as an insult. Instead you decide on a basic mountain range, three overlapping triangles, and a sun poking out from behind them, a simple circle. A simple serene tattoo that Eddie can look at and calm down to when he has a panic attack.

As you actually start to tattoo his side, his grip on your knee tightens. You don’t mind though, you’re enjoying the weight and warmth his hand provides. Eddie’s eyes are on you the entire time, committing your concentration face to memory. He tries not to shiver every time your fingers run over his exposed skin, a warm fuzzy feeling growing within him.

You’re focusing so intently that you don’t notice when Eddie becomes slightly more adventurous and lets his hand drift up to your thigh. Finally done with the tattoo you wipe it clean a final time, leaning back to admire your work. It’s your best tattoo yet, if you do say so yourself.

“Remember to clean it everyday,” you aren’t sure why you’re giving Eddie, of all people, hygiene advice. He isn’t Richie, he has common sense. “And if it gets infected tell your mom right away, don’t try to hide it out of fear of getting in trouble. I’ll take all the blame Eddie, say I made you get it because I wanted to practice.”

Eddie squeezes your thigh as he compliments your work, sending a bolt of electricity from your thigh to your heart. Before you know it his lips are crashing into yours, this kiss far better than the one earlier in the night. The thumping of the blood in your ears drowns out the whoops and hollers from your friends. All you can focus on is Eddie; his soft lips on yours, the softness of his hair beneath your fingers, and the feeling of his hand moving from your thigh to your hip- his free hand also going to your hip, fingers digging in.

When you pull apart for air, he uses his grip on your hips to pull you onto his lap. Now straddling him, you comb your finger through his dark locks with blonde tips. He begged and begged Mrs. Kaspbrak to bleach them and she kept saying no. So finally Richie and Bev bought bleach from the store, and did it themselves. Needless to say she wasn’t happy, but after two doctor's appointments, with two different doctors, she finally concluded that Eddie wasn’t going to randomly fall over and die from the bleach.

Stan slaps a hand over Richie’s mouth to keep him from ruining the moment going on in front of the group. He’ll let Richie make fun of the two afterwards, but he doesn’t want his friends to get this close to finally being together, just to have Richie’s teasing make the both of you chicken out and ignore each other. He’s not sure he can handle all that pining again, the entirety of the losers club isn’t sure they can handle that again. Your hands slide down from Eddie’s hair to his still bare shoulders, pulling him in for another searing kiss.

Permanent tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen @rexorangecouny @mrs-malfoy-always

#eddie kaspbrak x reader #fictober20 #day 15 of fictober #eddie kaspbrak #eddie kaspbrak x you #eddie kaspbrak x y/n #it chapter one #it chapter 1 imagine #it chapter 1 #it imagine #eddie it imagine #eddie spaghetti

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soulwillower · 4 years

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mustang • richie tozier

( richie tozier x reader smut)

requested: road head with richie?? his car in it chapter 2 is ... so hot + can we get an aged up richie tozier smut pleaseee??? + Hii, could you do one about Richie and the reader seeing each other at the restaurant in chapter 2, both single ;), and just like old emotions coming back and the other losers banter.

warnings: swearing, smut, oral (male receiving), ROAD HEAD!!!!, teensy bit of praise, some dirty talk, flirting, i think thats rly it, i had NO IDEA what to title this lol, this progresses kinda quickly once it gets goin lol also unedited

im not too sure about how this turned out :// i may go back and edit some things

[takes place during it chapter 2]

2k words

♡

this is fucking insane.

that's all that's screaming in your mind and most of what you can say as you talk to mike, eddie, and bill in the back room of the jade orient, catching up with awkward small talk as faded childhood memories bubble painfully to the surface.

a gong crash makes you jump- and even before you turn around, you hear a voice. "y/n fucking y/l/n? no way." the voice says, and you can't help the grin as you whirl around to greet the man you just remembered ten minutes ago.

richie tozier, in all his glory - now, in your defense, you did kinda remember him from his special on netflix. he’d been crass and rude and funny in a way that had made you roll your eyes and at the time, you’d felt a strangely familiar sensation when he’d mentioned his nickname, “trashmouth.”

now it made much more sense to you.

he’s old now, of course, but he still seems basically the same - the hair, the broad shoulders and long legs, the disheveled yet-somehow-still-sexy style, and his smirk that makes your legs weak.

"you miss me or what, asshole?" you say, a smile splitting your face as you opened your arms. he laughs, walking over to hug you tightly. hugging him gives you instant flashbacks, memories of childhood dares, blowing smoke out window screens, laughter in the middle of the derry grocery store where stan and ben worked, and shitty jokes.

"you could say that." richie mutters.

as the others arrive and you order food and get to catching up, you take in richie's appearance even more. you can’t fucking help it - he’s somehow grown even more into his looks, and he's got the most insane charisma. he's wearing the same glasses as he used to, and when he laughs really hard he pushes them up with his middle finger. he's got a five o'clock shadow dusting his jaw and he's still as tall as ever, his voice loud as he cracks jokes that have you laughing into your vodka tonic.

after richie pulling a full mile, round-about way of joking that he married eddie's nightmare of a mom, you're all laughing as he imitates jabba the hut. you roll your eyes, hating how badly you want him after all this time. at least hes not married.

"so you single too, y/l/n?" richie asks you then, calling your attention as he grins at you. you rake your eyes over his form quickly, hoping he doesn't notice.

yes, the answer was unequivocally yes.

you hum instead. "for now." you say, lifting a flirty brow at him before sipping on your drink. he smirks into his own glass and it makes your stomach burn halfway between anticipation and desire as the others share glances.

"almost forgot about that." ben says quietly with a smile to bev, and you shoot them a questioning look.

bev sends you a knowing smirk as she nods to richie, who's teasing eddie again and you roll your eyes. you feel like a kid again, being back with all of your friends from when you were young and getting teased every living moment for your pining after richie.

as you all get ready to go back to the townhouse after the shocking final events at the jade, you pull your phone out to call a cab. "you didn't get a rental?" bill asks, lifting a brow. you shake your head, "no. didn't really think of it, i just kind of..." you trail off, memories flashing around your mind of late nights in high school, screaming as you lean out richie's car window with stan laughing and eddie gripping your legs.

you shake your head. everybody looks as if they're remembering the same things you are, staring at the horizon with blank, furrowed faces. richie's the first to snap out of it, "i can give you a lift, y/n." he mutters, fishing a pair of keys out of his pocket then twirling them around his finger.

eyeing richie's profile, you smirk lightly, thinking about how immediate your attraction to him has returned in just the last few hours. as you walk away from the others, you lay your gaze on a red car and you whistle. "sweet ride, is this yours?" you ask, biting your lip as you eye the mustang richie's just unlocked.

"depends on who's asking, sugar." he says with a smirk, snorting when you narrow your eyes at him. you don't think what he just said even makes sense.

"what, so richie tozier gets all famous and can't tell me anything anymore?" you ask as you slide into the passenger seat.

"we're strangers, are we not?" he's got that fucking smirk still. the same one from childhood, except this one is much more... provocative.

you shake your head, "i don't think strangers give each other rides home in their mustangs just out of the goodness of their heart, do they?" you say as he pulls out of the parking lot, and he grins. you clench your legs together as the streetlights light up his profile, his hair perfectly messy and his jaw line sculpted.

"depends, sugar, what're you gonna give me in return?" he asks, a glint in his eye as he glances at you. his words send shivers through your body and you stare at him with a smirk, "i'm sure i can think of something."

he hums, looking back to the road with a grin. as you watch scenery pass by you of the town you'd forgotten for twenty years, you realize he's going all the way around town towards the inn. "you going the long way for a reason?" you ask, watching as he clenches his jaw as if he's been caught.

"don't know what you're talkin' about, y/l/n." he mumbles, but there's that damn glint in his eye again as he smirks. you grin, looking out the window at the passing trees on the path into derry. "yeah, yeah. i just think you wanted to spend more time with me." you say as you look over at him. he's smirking lazily as he watches the road, one arm on the steering wheel. "maybe." he responds.

richie pulls up to a stop light and for a second, the two of you sit and stare at each other, so many unspoken words hovering in the air.

and then, without another thought, richie's lips are hard against yours, pressing heatedly against yours and moving quickly. his hand is on your thigh, squeezing as you kiss back and making you moan into his mouth.

your hand falls onto his neck, tugging lightly on his curly strands as you kiss him, tasting scotch and cigarettes and freedom. you've waited too long, you realize - you spent your entire childhood staring after the boy with the tropical shirts and the big glasses, and now you're here with him, grown up and free to do what you want.

and he's kissing you.

just as his tongue wins dominance over yours, a loud honk makes you jump apart and you realize the light's turned green. "fuck." he says quietly, stepping on the gas pedal and racing off down the otherwise empty road. you look at each other and he smiles sheepishly, "fuck, y/n, you're so hot." he says quickly, and you laugh lightly, feeling flattered.

you lean back over the console as he drives so you're next to his ear, hand sliding down his chest slowly. "you're not too bad yourself, tozier." you say lowly, kissing his jaw. he turns and kisses you heatedly, taking your breath away quickly as he turns back to the road with a smirk.

unable to bear the tension, and feeling really desperate, you start to kiss his neck. "richie, i need you." you whine quietly and you feel him swallow harshly. "shit, doll." is all he says, his hand falling to grip your thigh possessively.

you keep going, your hand sliding down until you’re gripping his hard cock through his jeans and teasing your palm over it, sucking a mark into his neck which makes him groan.

"you got a deathwish, babe?" he says lowly as you nip at the skin under his jaw, your hand palming him teasingly. he's already hard and you smirk against his skin. "relax, all you have to do is drive." you say as you undo your seatbelt, twisting so you can palm him better. he spreads his legs slightly as he readjusts, letting out a quiet "fuck, yeah." as you undo his jeans.

"you're a dream, y/n." he says tightly, like he's clenching his jaw.

his knuckles are white as he clutches the wheel, eyes darting between the road and you as you slowly pull his hard cock out of his underwear and pump him slowly. your eyes widen as you take in his size, not expecting him to be as big as he is.

you slowly dart your tongue out, swiping along the tip and collecting the precum as it beads over. "shit." richie hisses as you flatten your tongue along the bottom of his cock, teasing him a bit before slowly taking him into your mouth.

the groan he lets out as you take him as far as you can is sinful, his head hitting back against the headrest as he struggles to keep his eyes on the road. bobbing your head, you hollow your cheeks and relish in the feeling of richie's cock in your throat, stretching you out and making you moan around him.

"you feel so good baby." he hisses, his hand moving from your thigh up to grip the wheel while he lays on the gas before falling to the back of your head, carding through your hair. you want to roll your eyes at how much he's talking, but you expected just about that from the trashmouth. "fuck."

you can't believe you're here, in derry again, sucking off famous comedian and - as you remembered a few hours ago - your former childhood crush, richie tozier, in his car.

you see lights out of the corner of your eye and you feel the car come to a stop, and you realize you’re stopped at a light. you can hear another car engine either next to yours or behind yours and you clench your thighs at the thought of someone seeing. “fuck, y/n. god, takin’ my cock perfectly.” he mutters, watching you bob your head, and despite the lewd act you’re doing, you turn bright red at the praise.

as the light turns green he’s stepping on the gas again and you pull off of him to take a few breaths, pumping as much as you can with your hand as he moans lightly. you see you're nearing the town house, so you take him back into your mouth and try to relax, breathing through your nose as his cock twitches in the back of your throat and you gag.

you bob your head after that, your tongue flat against his cock as he pulls into the parking lot.

you feel him put the car into park and then he moans lowly, bucking his hips up and you choke a bit as he slides further in your mouth and stretches your throat. "fuckin' hell, toots." he mutters, hands falling to your hair as he guides your mouth up and down on his cock. your mind reels back slightly at richie's words and you remember all the times you watched him show up to school with hickies littering his neck, all the hours you spent pining after this gangly asshole, and you hollow your mouth.

"god, i'm gonna cum. y/n. fuck," richie mutters and you eagerly swallow around him, moving slightly so you're on your knees on your seat, the new angle making him toss his head back against the headrest. one of his hands travels the expanse of your back, tracing down your spine as you move harder, helping him chase his high. he kneads your ass lightly, which makes you keen forward and take him deep, gagging as you force your throat to relax.

"good, just like that." he says quietly, breathy moans escaping his throat as he bucks his hips and you gag, eyes tearing up.

and then he's hitting his high, cumming in your mouth with a groan of your name, his hand squeezing your ass as the other holds your head down on his cock. you moan a bit as you swallow, pulling off him slowly as he pants, smirking down at you.

"well shit, if i'm getting that for driving you home, i'll be your personal chauffeur." he insists. you smack him lightly on the arm as you wipe your mouth, catching your breath.

it gets silent then, as if you're both realizing what just happened and how quickly it escalated.

he lets out a breath as he stares at you, eyes hooded. you bite your swollen lip as you watch him, gauging his reaction. "do you want to... come up to my room?" he says breathlessly, looking blissed out.

you bite your lip as he lifts a brow and you nod. "yes, i really do." you say as the two of you scramble out of his car, minds distracted from the danger ahead and only thinking about making it up to his room.

tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier @simplesammyx @dickology64 @clownsloveyou @baby-yoda-a @moon-shine-baby @daughter-of-the-stars11 @lets-vibe-bro @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @finnskindofwoman @kait-tozier @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs

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

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stenbrozier · 4 years

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Someone New (Adult!Richie Tozier x Reader)

“hey! can i request richie x reader (adults) and he introduces her to the losers club and they are all shocked he has a girlfriend especially a normal one lol but richie and reader are super cute together and he loves her” - @nickmxller

Warnings: anxious!Richie, IT Chapter Two spoilers (slight) + swearing

A/N: I’m sorry this took so long!

——————————————————————————

The plane ride to Derry was nerve racking, mainly because your boyfriend, Richie, was bouncing his knees and gripping on to your hand very tightly. Richie was always very loud and outgoing, making inappropriate jokes at inappropriate times, while you were usually the soft spoken one. Now, not only was he soft spoken, he was quieter than you and ever seen him.

“Richie, are you-“ He shook his head, waving his other hand as he gave you a tight smile.

“I’m fine, darling,” he answered, a bit of an edge in his voice. “I just haven’t seen this people in...in...30 years? I don’t even remember most of it.” You furrowed your eyebrows at him, rubbing your thumb across his knuckles.

“Babe, you threw up,” you scoffed at his words. “I don’t think you’re ‘fine.’”

“Just drop it okay?” he snapped as he yanked his hand away from yours. “I-I just...it’s fine.” You sighed, crossing your arms over chest, turning to face the window to watch the clouds go by.

———————

When you got to the little Chinese restaurant that was the supposed meeting spot, you felt a weird sense of dread as you held on tightly to Richie’s hand. When you guys walked up the door, you noticed a short red headed woman and a tall brunette man having a conversation.

“What the fuck happened to me?” Richie joked as his eyes lit up. He briefly let go of your hand, going up to the two and hugging the woman. The woman eyed you suspiciously, and you quickly looked at your feet and rung your hands together.

“Hey, Trashmouth,” the man said, bringing Richie into a tight hug as he patted his back. After the greetings, he was back by your side and giving you a kiss on your temple before following them inside. The interior was decked out in Chinese cultural items, the colors gold and red were plastered everywhere. You were all lead to a back room when you said you were a part of the “Mike Hanlon” party.

You all walked into the back room, and the first thing you noticed was three guys laughing and talking back and forth. One of them was tall, the other two at least five or six inches shorter. As you continued to take in the room, peering around hesitantly and feeling like something was gonna jump out at you, you didn’t noticed Richie slip away from you until you heard a bang of a gong echo through the room.

He smirked at everyone, stuffing his hands inside his jacket pockets as he earned glares. “This meeting of the Losers’ Club has officially begun.” One of the small men, the one with the polo shirt and nice slacks, ran up to him and gave him a tight hug. You watched the interaction quietly, nervously glancing at the others to see if anyone had noticed you yet. The tallest man in the room walked up to you quietly, gently reaching his hand out for you to shake.

“Mike,” he introduced himself calmly. You gave him a tight smile, keeping Richie in your peripherals.

“(Y/N),” you answered back, feeling a hand go around your waist. “I-I’m with Richie.”

“Tryin’ to make moves on my girl, Mikey?” It surprised you how fast his mood changed. Just two hours ago, he was anxious as wringing his hands nervously. “You can’t. Got her locked down.”

“How’d you end up with him?” asked a feminine voice. You looked over at the redhead, noticing the small smirk on her face. “You actually seem lovely and normal.”

“Well, I met him through his manager,” you answered softly, smiling at her. “I thought he was going to be different, but one can never know what to expect with a comedian.” He kissed your temple and smiled against it.

“Should we sit down for dinner?” Mike asked everyone, to which you all nodded.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Stan?” asked the man Richie was hugging earlier. You had sat down in the seats between them. “I just, it doesn’t feel complete without him.”

“It’s Stan, Eddie,” the man next to Mike answered. “He’s probably working or couldn’t get a flight.”

“I don’t know, Bill,” Eddie mumbled back, shaking his head. “But maybe you’re right, I don’t know.”

The whole dinner went smoothly. While Stan never showed up, you were still able to get a full effect of everyone’s personalities. You and Bev bonded over fashion, you mentioning you had a dress or two of hers that you kept for red carpets. Richie and Eddie bickered over your head the whole night, causing you to jab a finger at Richie’s jaw every now and then to calm him down. Mike, Bill, and the other man, whom you learned was Ben, would ask you questions about where you grew up and how you even ended up with Richie.

“Truly,” you said as you took a sip of your water, “he’s a big softie. I like nicer and kinder guys, and he’s surprisingly one of them.” Richie seemed to blush on cue, rolling his eyes in embarrassment.

“Come on, Doll,” he mumbled as his cheeks reddened. “You can’t crack my tough guy exterior without my permission.” You shrugged, leaning over and kissing his cheek.

After the food was served and you guys were full, the fortune cookies came out. They turned into grotesque creatures, leading you to be snuggled into Richie’s chest as he tried to swat those creatures away. In the parking lot, you still clung to him, sniffling and shaking as they all talked about their game plan to “kill Pennywise.” When you and Richie got back into the rental car, he reached over and grabbed your thigh.

“I guess I should tell you why we’re here, huh?”

——————

IT Taglist: IT Taglist: @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s, @jenna-aa @homeorbust @nickmxller @witchorical

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

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cocastyle · 4 years

Text

Change - Ch. 2 | T H R E E

Pairing - Bill Denbrough x reader

Word Count - 7,912

A/N - so I know I told you guys to prepare your tissues but I didn’t realize how much I was going tog do in depth with these beginning scenes so you have been spared one more chapter before the monstrosity that is the next chapter. I just feel like this part is too heavy to lightly brush by, so it is very necessary to build up the scene/background before really diving into the emotional problems next chapter. anyways, I hope you guys like this!

if you would like to be added to the tag list for this series let me know!

C H A N G E

Change Series Masterlist

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T H R E E - Fortune Cookies

* - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - *

Greyson Uris had never seen his mother so happy in his life. Sure she was happy when she was with him and his uncle Stan, but this was different. A good different and Greyson found himself never wanting the night to end.

He watched as his mother interacted with her friends, throwing her head back as she fell into a fit of laughter and leaned against Eddie for support while the adults who Greyson learned used to call themselves the Losers Club reminisced on the memories of their past.

Greyson learned quite a bit about his mother including how she used to spend the summers with his uncle in Derry which is how she met Richie, Eddie, and Bill. The five had been close every summer that she came and it was obvious how close they still were despite the years apart. Y/N's last summer in Derry had been when she met Ben, Mike, and Beverly and those three fit into the group just as well as the others. Y/N hadn't visited Derry since then, her parents keeping her away with their whole divorce.

For a moment Greyson wondered why his mother had never spoke of the Losers if they were as close as they made it out to be. Their friendship didn't seem like something that was easily forgotten, but somehow he knew his mother had. He wanted to ask how they had left things, but he found himself not doing so because he didn't understand how it could've ended badly when the group was acting like a bunch of thirteen year olds just by being with each other.

Greyson hadn't even touched on the fact that his mother and Bill obviously had something going on. If the hug the two had given each other upon reuniting hadn't been enough proof then the longing glances they threw at each other when the other wasn't paying attention was.

He wanted to freak out over the fact that his mother and his favorite author Bill Denbrough had the hots for each other, but he kept his mouth shut and just had the biggest grin plastered on his face for the whole night. All he could think about was how he knew their life would change after this night.

He had a feeling none of the adults were about to let go of each other any time soon and the prospect of having the Losers in his life was not something Greyson could argue against. He would do anything to keep the smile that was on his mother's face for it was a smile that shone brighter than anything he had ever seen before.

It was the smile Stan would tell the boy about. The infamous Y/N Uris smile that could make everyone in the room stop just with one flash of it in their direction. And Greyson never wanted it to disappear.

Y/N on the other hand had never seen her son open up to people the way he did with the Losers. His nerves were pretty much nonexistent by now and he was conversing with the others like he had known them his whole life.

Richie and Greyson could match each other's energy perfectly and Y/N would be lying if she said she didn't about swoon at the sight of Bill wrapping an arm around Greyson's shoulders as the two laughed about something, her son looking up at Bill in adoration while Bill gave the boy a smile and ruffled his hair.

The grin that dawned Greyson's face was one that made Y/N's heart soar and she was beyond grateful that the Losers accepted Greyson with welcoming arms the way that they did. He needed it, especially after everything that had happened with his father and lacking those other family figures in his life that weren't Y/N, Stan, or Patty.

As if sensing her gaze, Greyson turned his head to look at his mother and Y/N couldn't help but smile, the action instantly bringing an equally bright one to her son's face. Y/N reached out and brushed some of the hair from Greyson's eyes and his gaze was loving as he looked to her.

Neither of them wanted this night to ever end.

"So wait," Richie said, his eyes turning to Eddie in amusement and disbelief and making the Losers and Greyson all turn to look at the man. "Eddie, you got married?"

"Yeah, why's it so fucking funny, dickwad?" Eddie questioned, sitting up straighter as he got really defensive all of a sudden.

"What? To like a woman?" Richie asked, his face blank as he tried to act as serious as possible. Y/N sent a small playful glare in Richie's direction and couldn't help but notice the emotion that seemed to flicker through the man's eyes as he awaited Eddie's answer.

Eddie looked as if he were about to blow a gasket and Y/N was quick to gently place a hand on his arm in order to try and calm him down. Eddie instantly relaxed under her touch and collected himself enough to glare at Richie and point at him with his chop stick as he muttered, "Fuck you, bro."

Richie laughed before exclaiming, "Fuck you!"

Greyson furrowed his eyebrows for a moment with a smile playing on his lips and used the calculating gaze he had on Bill and Y/N earlier on Richie and Eddie, but no one seemed to notice.

"Alright, what about you, Trashmouth? You married?" Bill asked instantly earning a chuckle from Y/N who was quick to throw a hand over her mouth while Richie looked to her in betrayal.

"What's so fucking funny, Uris?" Richie questioned, his eyes narrowed despite the smile he was trying to hide.

"Nothing," Y/N insisted between laughs as she held her hands up in surrender. "Just. . .there's no way you're married.”

Richie's eyes widened and he went to say something but the other Losers were quick to agree with Y/N, none of them believing for a second that the man they knew was married.

"No, I am! I am," Richie insisted. "No, I got married."

"Richie, I've known you for like an hour now and I don't even believe it," Greyson told him as he smirked and took a bite of his food, the other Losers chuckling softly while Richie playfully glared at the boy.

"When?" Eddie questioned, deciding to play along with the man. Although, he couldn't help but notice the look Greyson sent in his direction as if he knew something that Eddie didn't.

"Did you not hear this?" Richie questioned in disbelief, his gaze flickering back over to Eddie who was sipping from his cup. "You didn't know I got married?"

"No," Eddie said, his amusement falling once he noticed the dead serious look on Richie's face.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at Richie and the man's eyes locked with hers just long enough for her to catch on that this was a joke and she was quick to look away, a small smile dancing on her face while Richie looked back to Eddie.

"Yeah, me and your mom are very very happy together," Richie said and everyone burst out laughing at that except for Eddie who glared at Richie as his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly.

"He totally fell for it!" Richie laughed as he pointed at Eddie, the man frowning and looking away while Y/N reached over and patted his arm.

"Fuck you," Eddie grumbled earning another round of laughter from the Losers.

"She's very sweet. Sometimes she'll put her arm around me and she'll whisper to me. She'll go-" Richie trailed off as he began to make Jabba the Hut noises and Y/N realized then that she probably should stop drinking because she laughed so hard she started to cry.

"We all get it!" Eddie exclaimed in annoyance. "My mom's a great big fat person. It's hilarious! Hysterical!"

Y/N laughed even more at that and Eddie turned his attention to the girl before lightly shoving her as he tried not to laugh as well. "Fuck you, Uris!" Eddie yelled while Y/N desperately tried to wipe away at her tears.

"What about you, Y/N?" Beverly spoke up, a warm smile on her face as she tried to change the topic so everyone would calm down. "Who's the lucky man?"

Y/N's laughter began to die down almost instantly and she ignored the looks that Eddie, Bill, and Mike sent in her direction as she tried to keep her smile on her face. For a moment the sound of a door slamming in her face and her own sobs whispered through her ear, but a hand gently grabbing ahold of her own had her glancing to see Greyson giving her a small reassuring smile despite the anger he was trying to hold back.

"Uh. . .there's no one," Y/N replied, her smile not as big as usual as the sparkle dulled from her eyes.

A beat of awkward silence fell among the group, but Richie was quick to speak up as he smirked and said, "Bill, that means you still have a chance!"

Y/N and Bill's faces reddened instantly and the whole group broke out into hysterics once again while the two adults glared at Richie and Greyson stay there smirking between them. "Tozier, I swear-" Y/N began and Richie couldn't help but sigh dramatically and put a hand to his chest.

"There it is. Shit, I haven't heard you say those three words in forever. It just bring tears to my eyes," Richie joked earning an eye roll from Y/N as she began to relax and laugh once again.

She knew what Richie was doing and was silently thankful that he had managed to turn the conversation around and ease the mood even if it meant teasing her and Bill about their past relationship.

Y/N felt a pair of eyes watching her and turned her head slightly to see Bill's gaze was on her. His face instantly reddened as he realized he had been caught, but the smile Y/N sent him was enough to keep him from looking away.

Greyson looked between the two adults and couldn't help but shake his head at their obliviousness. He loved his mother, but sometimes she wasn't the brightest and right now was only proof.

"Hey, Mom," Greyson said instantly snapping the two adults out of their trance as their faces reddened. Y/N's eyes instantly flickered down to her son and he gave her a small smile before pointing to Eddie. "Is it okay if we switch seats? I kind of want to talk to Eddie more about all the crazy shit you did as a kid.”

Y/N blinked in surprise and couldn't help but feel her heart melt at the fact that her son was interacting with her friends so well. "Of course, kid. Whatever you want?" she told him before she began to get up and switch seats with him, not noticing the small look Eddie and Greyson shared before Richie sent the kid a small thumbs up.

It was only when Y/N was sitting back down that she realized where she was now sitting and she quickly turned her head, her eyes widening at the sight of Bill now sitting beside her. He had the same surprised look on his face and the two blinked before small smiles appeared on their faces.

"Hi," Y/N whispered making Bill smile more as his eyes flickered over her face.

"Hi," Bill whispered back, desperately trying to keep his voice as steady as possible despite the sudden wave of nervousness that was washing over his body.

They hadn't even noticed that the Losers and Greyson had stopped their conversations to watch the two with knowing smiles, but when nothing else happened, Richie cleared his throat to gain everyone's attention. "Wait, let's talk about the elephant not in the room," Richie announced before gesturing towards Ben. "Ben, what the fuck, man?"

Ben blushed almost instantly and looked down shyly as he said, "Okay, okay, obviously I've lost a few pounds."

"Yeah, no shit!" Eddie exclaimed making Y/N chuckle softly as she put a hand to her mouth to try and hide her smile.

"Lost a few pounds? You're like uh. . .you're hot," Richie said as he gave the man a baffled look which wasn't surprising since everyone else except for Greyson did as well. "It's true. You're like every Brazilian soccer player wrapped up into one person. Gorgeous!"

Ben was getting redder by the minute and Y/N couldn't contain her laughter any more. She had to grip onto her sides because of how hard she was laughing and Bill quickly joined her, the two leaning against each other for support as they laughed.

"Leave him alone," Beverly told them while Ben bashfully looked at the table before looking up at Beverly. "You're embarrassing him." That earned another round of chuckles from everyone while Greyson looked around at the adults in amusement.

"Okay, okay, alright! Please, come on," Ben said as he tried to calm the laughing table down. He gestured towards the empty chair that Y/N had desperately been trying to avoid looking at. "Is Stanley coming or what?"

Y/N's eyes flickered over to the empty chair, her laughter slowly coming to a halt as she began to realize just how long they had been sitting there without Stan's presence. Greyson noticed his mother's stare and couldn't help but look to the chair as well, an uneasy feeling washing over him as he furrowed his eyebrows confused as to where his uncle could be.

For the Losers it was like a switch had been flipped in their head, instantly reminding them of the other half of the Uris cousin pair. The others slowly looked over to where the empty chair was and everyone fell silent as they began to remember the curly haired boy.

"Stan," Eddie muttered in disbelief as if he hadn't even thought of the boy up until that moment.

"Stan the-" Bill trailed off as if he couldn't remember the other half of the saying which maybe he couldn't. It wouldn't be the first thing they had forgotten.

"Stan Uris," Richie muttered as he distantly remembered sitting with Y/N in the synagogue as Stan walked out on his own bar mitzvah to prove a point to his father.

"Stan Urine!" Bill and Richie exclaimed in unison making Y/N roll her eyes at the boys as a fond smile began to appear on her face.

"He always hated that name," she whispered and that was enough to make all eyes turn to her, everyone instantly remembering how Stan and Y/N were cousins.

"Y/N, you still talk to him, right?" Mike asked, his eyes flickering over the girl as he took a sip from his drink. The look he gave her seemed to tell her that he already knew the answer, but Y/N quickly shook it off and just gave the group a small smile.

"Yeah. We live near each other," Y/N explained. "Greyson and I had dinner with him and his wife Patty last night actually."

"Wife? Woah, Stan the Man had enough game to get himself a woman?" Richie joked making Y/N playfully roll her eyes at the man.

"I thought Uncle Stan was coming," Greyson spoke up as he gave his mother a confused look. Y/N glanced at the chair once more before looking back at her son, putting on a fake smile as to not worry him.

"He's probably just running late is all," Y/N assured him before looking around at the table. "That would have to be my fault. I forgot to check in with him before I left town last night and you guys know Stanley. He probably was about to leave and saw a bird or something. I swear he would be late to most things if it weren't for me by his side to keep his head on straight."

The Losers chuckled at that and it seemed a bit of the tension was gone. "That or he's too much of a fucking pussy. He's not going to show," Richie teased.

"That or he's too busy fucking your mother to show up," Greyson instantly retorted, not liking the way Richie degraded his uncle like that. Richie blinked in surprise and put a hand to his chest as if Greyson has physically wounded him.

Y/N's eyes widened in shock and it was one of those moments as a mother where she had to hide her laughter just to scold the boy. "Greyson," she said, but the boy only shrugged with a shy smile on his face.

A loud laugh was enough to have both of them turning to see Richie looking at Greyson in pure amusement while the rest of the table began to laugh as well. "See this," Richie began as he pointed at the young boy. "This is why you're my new favorite Uris."

"Woah! Hey!" Y/N exclaimed as she put a hand to her chest and feigned hurt. "Rich, I thought we were friends."

"My bad, sweetheart. You know I love you," Richie smiled, winking at the girl while she playfully rolled her eyes with a small chuckle.

"We are so getting off topic here and that's what Ben wants," Eddie laughed, pointing a finger at Ben who let out a small sigh once he realized he had been caught. All eyes turned accusingly to Ben who held his hands up in surrender with a shy smile on his face.

"Why would Stanley save you anyway? Was I not the one who basically performed surgery on you. . ." Eddie began to trail off and his eyes widened as the memories began to come back, ". . .after Bowers cut you up! Holy shit, that's right!"

"Holy shit," Y/N breathed out as she too began to remember that day. "Wasn't that the day where. . ." She trailed off and began to snap her fingers as if it would help her remember before a loud gasp escaped her lips and she pointed at Beverly. "That was the day we met you! We tricked Mr. Keene so that the boys could escape out the door with all the medical supplies."

"That's right," Bill laughed as he too began to remember that day. Although he froze slightly as he distantly had a flashback of seeing Y/N walk out of the store, her whole person just glowing under the sunlight as she gave him that smile that made his heart flutter out of control. Back then that was the moment he realized he still had feelings at her and at that sudden memory popping up, Bill couldn't help but glance over at the girl by his side.

It was like time stood still for Bill as he took a good look at the girl, remembering how she used to make him feel back then and noticing how his heart still thumped rapidly in his chest just like it always had and always would when he had Y/N by his side.

"Fuck," Bill muttered out loud as the realization hit him, but it was so loud that everyone turned to look at him only to find that he was staring at Y/N with an unreadable expression on his face. Y/N gave the boy a confused look and Bill's eyes widened in surprise as he quickly looked away with a blush of embarrassment on his face.

"Th-That was so long ago," Bill tried to cover up his actions and it seemed to do the trick because the group all laughed and looked away from him as they began to agree.

"Please tell me you ended up becoming a doctor, Eds," Beverly spoke up, successfully moving the attention away from Bill which he was grateful for.

Eddie quickly shook his head as if he couldn't even fathom the idea. "No, uh. . .I ended up becoming a risk analyst," Eddie told them.

"Oh, that sounds really interesting," Richie said in a sarcastic tone that only Y/N and Greyson seemed to notice, the two sharing a small look before looking at Richie in amusement. "What does that entail?"

"Yeah, so I work for like this big insurance firm and uh-" Eddie was cut off by the sound of a Richie snoring and the group all glanced at Richie who was leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed as he pretended to sleep.

Eddie had never looked so unamused and the Losers all tried to stifle their laughter while Greyson accidentally let a few giggles escape as he looked between Richie and Eddie in amusement. At the sound of Greyson's laughter, everyone began to laugh while Eddie continued to watch Richie unamused.

Richie pretended to wake up and blinked a few times before looking over at Eddie who muttered, "Fuck you, dude. Fuck you."

"Was this job invented before fun?" Richie questioned in a deadly serious tone which made Eddie frown.

"Oh, that's so not funny," Eddie told him, but the laughter at the table begged to differ.

"It is funny!" Richie argued as he began to laugh as well and Greyson who was trying to drink his water in order to stop his laughter couldn't help but spit it back into his cup as laughter shook his body. Y/N laughed even harder at that and wrapped an arm around her son as the two tried to control themselves but only ended up laughing even harder, an action that didn't go unnoticed by Eddie.

"No," Eddie said to Richie before looking at Greyson and Y/N offended. "What the fuck are you two laughing at?"

"Oh hush, Eds," Y/N laughed as she reached over at pat the boy's cheek. Eddie went to move away, but he would be lying if he said a small smile hadn't begun to appear on his face.

Beverly cleared her throat and everyone's laughter began to quiet down as they looked to the girl with smiles, a much lighter mood surrounding them now that they weren't thinking too hard about where the hell Stan was.

"I propose a toast," Beverly announced and the adults all cheered as they picked up their drinks. Greyson look around before picking up his water and holding it up as well.

"To the Losers."

- - -

The evening went better than Y/N thought it would, but for some reason she still found herself waiting for the twist. Like something was going to pop up and ruin the whole night which was crazy, right? What could there be to worry about?

Laughter was prominent at the table for the whole evening to the point where a waitress even had to tell them to quiet down a bit and Y/N had never been so happy in her life. Getting to be back with the Losers was one thing but getting to be back with the Losers with her son by her side was a whole different story.

Y/N conversed with the group for a while before her and Bill ended up breaking off and talking to each other instead, although neither seemed to realize what they had done. Bill told her about Audra and their divorce, about his writing career and how he was currently working on a movie version of one of his books. In return Y/N told him about her adventures in raising Greyson, about her life with Stan and Patty, and about Greyson's love for books and writing.

She avoided the topic of her ex husband entirely and it was obvious that Bill had noticed by the way he danced around the subject. Y/N knew she would have to tell him eventually and it was only when she was watching Bill in silence as he stopped talking in order to take a sip of his drink that she spoke up.

"He left," she said, her sudden words making Bill look at her in surprise while Y/N quickly averted her gaze with red cheeks. "Uh. . .Greyson's father. I know you were wondering."

Bill blinked in surprise and let his eyes flicker over the girl's face as she swirled her beer in the bottle. "Why?" Bill finally asked, knowing that Y/N was only opening up to him because she wanted to talk about it and the fact that she wanted to talk to him about it made his heart skip a beat.

"For no reasonable explanation that's for sure," Y/N sighed and she seemed to be staring more intently at her beer bottle as she spoke. "We had dated for two years and were married for another before I found out I was pregnant with Greyson. He. . .he wasn't as excited as I was and before I knew it he packed his bags and told me he wasn't cut out to be a father and didn't want to be held down anymore." Y/N was silent for a moment before she looked up at Bill and gave him a sad smile as she shrugged. "Then he left."

Bill didn't know what to say as he tried to wrap his head around what Y/N had just told him. Greyson's father had left them just like that? Did he not realize what he had? Not only was Y/N one of the most caring and loving people anyone could ever meet, but Greyson was an amazing kid who deserved way more than an asshole for a father.

Y/N let her gaze flicker over to Greyson and she smiled softly as she watched her son team up with Eddie as the two argued with Richie about something. "He tried to come back a year ago, but Greyson told him to fuck off and never speak to us again before slamming the door in his face," she chuckled softly, but when she looked back at Bill there were tears in her eyes.

"My sweet boy didn't deserve that bastard for a father. He. . .he's given me so much joy in my life that I didn't think I would ever find again and I wish he had the father I know he wishes he had, but life can be cruel sometimes," Y/N stopped herself once she realized she was rambling and looked away in embarrassment as she wiped at her tears.

"I'm sorry. You did not deserve to have me dump all of that on you," Y/N laughed sadly, but Bill was quick to reach out and grab onto her hand.

The action made them both blush, but neither looked away from each other. "No, I'm glad you told me. You know you can always tell me anything. We puked in those bushes together after riding the Gravitron. I think it's safe to say we have a bond that can never be broken," Bill joked before both adults let out soft chuckles.

"I was hoping you forgot about that," Y/N laughed before she let her eyes lock with Bill's.

"I think all that puke is forever engraved in my head," Bill told her before squeezing her hand which they both hadn't realize he was still holding onto. "But seriously, you can always tell me anything. I'm sorry for what that son of a bitch did to you two. Neither of you deserved it and I'm sure he doesn't know what the hell he walked away from because if he did, he wouldn't have even thought about leaving."

Y/N was silent for a moment as she looked at the man, her heart skipping a beat at his words. "Thank you," she whispered, her eyes watering slightly at what he had said. Bill always had been so sweet to her and she never understood why.

The two were silent as they stared at each other for a moment, their eyes flickering over each other's faces as their hands slowly moved so that their fingers were intertwined.

Y/N couldn't help but notice the way they had both seemed to inch forward ever so slightly and it was then as she stared into Bill's eyes that she remembered why green had always been her favorite color. Although it seemed that over the years, Bill's eyes had grown to be just a to be more blue than they used to be and now the mixture of blue and green was almost as breathtaking as the very being that was Bill Denbrough.

"Oh, there we go!" Richie's voice exclaimed instantly pulling Bill and Y/N out of whatever had just been going on between the two of them. Both adults turned to look at their friend, their eyes slightly wide at the idea of him talking about them, but Richie's eyes were focused on the bowl of fortune cookies being set in the middle of the table.

Y/N and Bill both let out small sighs of relief before they glanced down at their intertwined hands. They were quick to pull away, dark blushes appearing on their cheeks as they looked back to the table.

"Mom," Greyson suddenly said and Y/N was quick to take the small distraction and look to her son who was holding out a fortune cookie to her.

"Oh, thank you," Y/N smiled as she took the fortune cookie from the boy. Greyson just gave her a soft smile in return before turning back and shouting something at Richie who frowned while Eddie high-fived the boy.

Y/N was too lost in her thoughts to register what the three were talking about so she turned her attention back to her fortune cookie. She was just about to open it when she felt a pair of eyes on her and she glanced over to see that Bill was watching her.

"What?" Y/N asked, a small smile playing on her lips as she stared at the boy curiously.

"Uh, nothing," Bill quickly said as he grabbed a fortune cookie. "This is just weird. All of this. All these memories. People that I don't even remember forgetting."

Y/N's face softened and she nodded ever so slightly, knowing exactly what the boy was talking about. After all, how could she have forgotten about the Losers that easily? These were the people who had been her best friends, the people who had helped her get through her parents' divorce.

And even now that she was with them she still felt like she barely remembered her past. It was like her memories were different pieces of an incomplete puzzle and she still had so far left to go.

"I mean it's weird, right?" Ben spoke up and the two glanced over to find that the whole table had stopped to listen to them. Ben ran his finger along the rim of his cup and frowned slightly as he whispered, "Now that we're all here, everything just comes back faster and faster. I mean all of it."

"Yeah, you know when Mike called me I threw up," Richie commented, his fingers tapping together as he spoke. Y/N's eyes instantly caught on to that and she remembered how she had learned from a young age that whenever Richie tapped his fingers together it was because he was nervous. Y/N couldn't blame him. She felt the same way. "Isn't that weird? Like I got nervous. I got like sick and I threw up.”

Richie chuckled softly, trying to lift the mood but everyone was deathly quiet as if they knew what he was talking about. Everyone except for Greyson who was looking around at the adults confused, not sure why they all looked like they were about to be sick or something.

"But I feel fine now. I feel very relieved to be here with you guys," Richie said, but when he looked up at his friends he finally caught sight of their faces. "Why is everybody looking at me like this?"

"I didn't throw up, but I felt it too. The nervousness. The feeling like I was about to be sick. Funny, right?" Y/N questioned as she locked eyes with Richie. She thought back to the previous night and a frown appeared on her face as she suddenly remembered her cousin's odd behavior. "Stanley was the same way I think. He was acting nervous after a phone call which I assume was from you, Mike. I had never seen him look so afraid, but he wouldn't tell me what was wrong. He didn't want to worry me I guess. Although what is there to worry about?"

"When Mike called me I crashed my car," Eddie said and Y/N's eyes widened in shock before she reached behind her son to put a hand on the man's shoulder.

"Oh my god. Are you okay?" Y/N asked, her voice shaking with worry as she looked at the man scanning for injuries. He seemed to be fine and Eddie gave the girl a weak smile as he reached up and put a hand on top of hers.

"I'm fine, Y/N. I promise," Eddie assured her and Y/N swallowed thickly before letting his arm fall back down to her side, still not fully believing the man but knowing better than to fuss over him right then.

"Man, I hear ya. I mean my heart was literally like pounding right out of my chest," Ben said, his gaze flickering between the others only to find that they all were giving looks of understanding as if they knew what he was talking about.

"I thought it was only me," Beverly spoke up.

"It was like pure f-f-f-" Bill began to stutter in a word and it was then that Y/N realized the man sitting beside her hadn't stuttered once this evening except out of nervousness. He must've finally gotten over the stutter and for a moment Y/N remembered how it had gotten worse for a summer but couldn't recall why.

"Fear," Mike finished and everyone's eyes flickered to him. "It's fear. What you felt."

"So you all felt scared?" Greyson questioned confused. "Why? Because you were going to be seeing each other again after so long?"

"That's not it," Y/N muttered as the realization began to dawn on her that something bigger was going on. She couldn't remember what it was, but she knew Mike had called them there for a reason. "Mike," she whispered and the man looked to her. "Why are we here? Why did we feel like that?"

Mike looked down and shifted uncomfortably on his seat which everyone instantly noticed. "You remember something we don't," Bill muttered in realization. "Don't you, Mike?"

"Something happens to you when you leave this town," Mike told them, keeping his gaze on the table for a moment before taking in a shaky breath and looking up at his friends with a serious expression that put them all on edge almost instantly.

Y/N slowly reached over and grabbed onto Greyson's hand, the boy giving her a confused look but squeezing into his mother's hand in response once he recognized that she needed his support and comfort for some reason.

"Further away, the hazier it all gets," Mike continued. "With me, I never left. So yeah. I remember. I remember all of it."

Y/N could feel the hair on the back of her neck beginning to stand on end and that same feeling she had gotten when talking to Mike on the phone suddenly began to wash over her body once again. Her grip on Greyson's hand tightened and Greyson sat up straighter and gently began to rub his hand up and down his mother's arm as he whispered in concern, "Mom? What's wrong?"

"Pennywise," Beverly whispered.

Y/N froze at that, her eyes flickering over to Beverly as her face paled. It seemed to hit her all at once and Y/N shook her head as she muttered, "You're fucking with me. This isn't real. This isn't fucking real."

Greyson's eyes widened at the frightened look on his mother's face, but his comforting didn't seem to help. He glanced around at the table only to find that everyone except for Mike was wearing the same expression on their face like Y/N and Greyson didn't have a clue why. What or who was Pennywise?

"The fucking clown," Eddie muttered, his breathing shaky as he looked down and Greyson only became more confused.

Pennywise was a clown? Why were they all afraid of a clown?

Eddie began to hyperventilate and he went to check his pockets for his inhaler. As for the other Losers they were all sitting there in shock, none of them being able to wrap their heads around what was happening.

Greyson's touch wasn't helping Y/N at all and the woman pulled herself away from her son before leaning forward and putting her head into her hands. Greyson gave his mother a worried look and looked to Bill who locked eyes with him for a moment before glancing at Y/N.

Bill knew Greyson was freaking out about seeing his mother in this state, but if Greyson knew what was flashing through Y/N's head right now then he wouldn't blame her. Bill shakily brought a hand out and gently tugged it away from Y/N's face, the woman instantly looking to him with wide eyes as if to ask him if this was really happening.

Bill was silent, but kept his gaze locked with hers as he took her hand in his and squeezed it, a sign that told her that he was by her side. That she wasn't alone in this.

Y/N sat back up, her grip on Bill's hand tight, and Greyson relaxed just a bit at seeing his mother acting more normal, but still couldn't shake off the feeling that something was wrong.

"Mike, you said you wanted our help with something," Bill pointed out, everyone's eyes widening slightly as they turned to look at the man in question. Bill's hand tightened around Y/N's and he swallowed thickly before asking, "What was that?"

"There's an echo here in Derry and it bounces back every twenty-seven years, right?" Mike told them and Y/N shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut as she willed this not to be real. If Mike was about to say what she thought he was about to say, Y/N didn't know what she would do.

All Y/N could think about was how she brought Greyson with her. She brought her son. There was no way in hell he was going to suffer through the same things she did. She wouldn't allow it.

"What are you talking about?" Eddie questioned, his voice low as he gave Mike a look that practically screamed he better be messing with them.

"Okay, listen. Listen," Mike insisted. "We thought we stopped It back then. We thought it was done, but-" Mike began to flip through a small notebook that none of them realized he had and Y/N continued to shake her head.

"I'm confused. What are we talking about? Who's Pennywise?" Greyson questioned, but his voice fell on deaf ears for everyone was looking at Mike in disbelief.

"Mike," Richie sighed in exasperation, trying to hide his fear behind his facade he always put up.

"A week ago," Mike began as he found a page and pointed to something in the book. Bill glanced over at it, but didn't let go of Y/N's hand as the woman slowly opened her eyes. "A man Adrian Melon slandered. A girl-"

"Mike, stop," Y/N pleaded, not wanting to hear any of this. She thought it was over. This had to be over. She wasn't the same reckless thirteen year old anymore. She was a mother. She had a kid to worry about.

"-went missing. There's already been others and there will be more!" Mike insisted, but no one wanted to hear it and everyone continued to try to tell Mike to shut up.

Greyson, who had been sitting quietly looking around at the adults, rolled his eyes before standing up and slamming his hands on the table. "Calm the fuck down!" Greyson yelled and everyone instantly looked to him with wide eyes, but they were all quiet and that was what the teen wanted.

Sighing softly as he pinched the bridge of his nose, Greyson gave the group a small smile before saying, "Now let's talk like adults, okay? Can someone please explain to me what the fuck you all are talking about and how a man being killed and a girl going missing have anything to do with this?"

No one moved or even made a sound and that only seemed to worry and piss off Greyson even more. His eyes instantly flickered to Y/N and he gave her an almost pleading look as he whispered, "Mom?"

Y/N's mouth fell open and she tried to say something, but no words came out. Everyone's eyes had fallen on her and she knew she had to be the one to tell her son what was going on, but she really didn't want to.

Inhaling sharply, Y/N gave her son a small nervous smile. "Greyson, honey, listen to me, okay? I can explain all of this to you later, but right now is not a good time," she admitted and maybe it was the look on pure fear on her face but for once Greyson didn't bother arguing and just gave a short nod before sitting in his seat, hanging his head a little. Y/N stared at her son for a moment before looking to Mike. "Mike, I think you need to explain."

The Losers all went to object, but Ben was quick to stop them. "Y/N's right," he said, sharing a small nod with the woman before looking to Mike. "Just let him explain. Let him explain."

"That echo, we might've changed it just like it changed us, but we didn't stop it," Mike explained. "Because it just bounced back. We made an oath, alright? That's why I brought you back. That's why you're here. To finish It. For good."

Y/N shook her head and both her and Bill tightened their grips on each other's hand, the two practically holding onto each other like they were their lifeline.

"Well that shit got dark fast," Richie muttered, but not even his teasing was enough to lift anyone's mood. "Thanks, Mike."

Even Greyson was sitting in his seat with a frown on his face as he tried to understand what was going on. All he got was that there was some clown named Pennywise that they were all afraid of and that his mother had made an oath to come back.

Everyone else was silent as they tried to comprehend that the horrors of their childhood was back and that Mike had called them to fight the same clown that had terrorized them years ago.

Eddie was the first to break the silence with a sigh as he opened up his fortune cookie. He scoffed almost instantly and held the paper in the air. "My fortune cookie just says 'could,'" Eddie announced, hoping to change the subject.

The Losers were quick to take the distraction and after another comforting squeeze on the hand from Bill, Y/N and Bill both let go before going to grab their fortune cookies as well. Everyone began cracking theirs open and one by one frowns appeared on their faces.

"I don't know how they do fortune cookies here, but mine just says 'guess,'" Richie muttered as he showed the table his fortune.

"You wanna throw that over here?" Bill asked as he stood up, gesturing towards the middle of the table. Richie and Eddie both places their fortunes on the table. "What you got Mike?"

Mike was silent but handed the man a slip of paper that said 'it.' Ben and Bill both put theirs on the table and got the words 'cut' and 'not.'

"Beverly?" Bill questioned and the red head frowned before handing him her slip of paper which had nothing but a small dot in the middle—a period.

Bill placed them all down and Richie, Eddie, and Ben quickly stood up. "What the fuck?" Eddie muttered before he and the others began to try and figure out possible combinations to the words.

"Guess. Cut. Not. Could. It. Period," Richie read confused.

"It's a message," Mike whispered shakily, but no one seemed to acknowledge him. Not that they were really paying attention to anything else because if they were they would've seen the pale look on Y/N's face as she stared at her fortune cookie, only to grow even paler when Greyson shakily held his paper near her own.

"No. Guess. It. Could. Not. Cut," Richie muttered as they continued to move the papers around.

"Why would it guess it could not cut?" Richie questioned earning a roll of the eyes from Eddie.

The boys and Beverly erupted into chaos as they tried to figure out the words, but Y/N and Greyson payed no attention.

"Mom?" Greyson whispered, his eyes flickering up to look at his mother in a mix of fear and confusion. But it seemed Y/N couldn't hear him, her eyes not leaving the papers in her hands as tears began to pool in her eyes.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Bill looked at the words again before realizing that if everyone had gotten a word then they were still missing two more from Y/N and Greyson. The man turned his head to look at them, but he instantly tensed at the sight of them.

"Y/N?" Bill called out, his voice soft as the others all turned to look at her as well. Greyson was gripping onto his mother's arm and she finally seemed to snap out of it long enough to look up at the group, her eyes instantly locking with Bill's as tears rolled down her face.

Bill's heart instantly stopped and he whispered, "Y/N, what's wrong?"

When the woman didn't respond, Greyson knew he would have to be the one to do something. His hands were shaking to the point where everyone at the table noticed, but they weren't quite sure what had messed with the two enough to get them to this point.

Greyson grabbed the two slips of paper out of his mother's shaking hands and she looked to her son with wide eyes as he turned to the table and reached out to move the papers around. It was only when there was a big space that Greyson placed the two papers down and everyone's breath hitched in their throats while Y/N put her hand over her mouth to stop the small sob that escaped her lips.

She knew something was wrong and this was the proof that she needed cause in big fat letters spelled out across all of the papers was one sentence that she knew could mean nothing good.

GUESS UNCLE STANLEY COULD NOT CUT IT.

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anxiouslymalicious · 5 years

Text

Losers Club Plus One Part 8

A Richie Tozier x daughter!reader series

Read the previous part here or go here for the complete Masterlist!

A/N; Hello everyone, I’m sorry for the long wait, but I have been struggling with this one a lot and still don’t feel like it’s as good as it could be, but this is the happiest I have felt about any of the versions I have written for this chapter. Anyway, this is about 3.8k words. I hope you enjoy!

“What do you mean you don’t know? Weren’t you there when she was born?!” asked Ben, stressed out beyond belief over the whole situation. He, Bev And Richie had settled in his room while Eddie got cleaned up and Bill sat in front of Y/N’s and Richie’s room, trying to get her to open up to him. He had arrived not long after the situation escalated and had been sat before the room ever since he heard what happened. Well, after giving Richie shit for never bothering to find out. Richie wasn’t mad at Bill though. He was giving himself shit for never bothering to find out, for taking her with him, for being so careless.

“I mean that I never made a test. There was a birth certificate with her, the mother’s name wasn’t readable anymore, but it had my name on it. So, I assumed…” Richie drifted off, another painful sob racking through his body. His chest was aching more and more with every sob. He hid his face in his hands again, like he had countless times in the past half an hour. The shame was too much for him.

Richie felt the bed dip beside him as Bev sat down on his right, laying a hand on his back, her head resting against his shoulder. She was shaken up to say the least, not expecting anything like that. When she first encountered Y/N, she had thought about how little physical similarities there were between the girl and her father, but she never would have thought that there might be a bigger reason to that than genetic randomness.

Ben, meanwhile, was still pacing the room, not sure what to think of the whole situation.

“Do you want to get tested?” Beverly asked carefully. Her voice was soft and hesitant, eyes travelling from Richie to Ben and back to Richie as helplessness took over her. And not only her. None of the Losers knew what to think of anything that was going on.

Richie looked up a little, chin and mouth still covered by his hand that he never fully lifted from his face. Then, he shook his head vigorously.

“I’m scared.” He finally uttered, voice cracking and barely more than a whisper. The two Losers easily heard how rough his voice sounded, like his vocal cords had turned to sandpaper. Beverly sighed, along with Ben who ran his hand through his hair before settling his hands on his hips. He had stopped his nervous pacing and instead stepped closer to the two Losers on his bed.

“Listen, Trashmouth. You really fucked up. We all know that. But sitting here and wallowing in self-pity won’t make anything right again. You need to do something.” Ben said, kneeling down before his friend. Richie nodded as yet another sob escaped his lips.

“I’m just so scared. Did I just lose my little girl?” Richie asked, teary gaze moving from Bev to Ben. Both of them felt tears of their own stinging in their eyes. Beverly shook her head.

“I don’t think so.” She replied, trying to put as much confidence into her words as possible although she really wasn’t sure if she believed herself. Ben nodded a little, agreeing with her.

“You’re shit, Y/N knows that too. She’s hurt but I don’t think she hates you.” Ben rested one of his hands on Richie’s knee, hoping to provide some form of comfort as he looked up at the broken man. Each of the Losers had witnessed the others breaking down before. It was completely out of character for most of them, almost like an out-of-body-experience, but Ben and Beverly silently agreed that they had never before seen Richie that low.

It was hard on the other Losers too, though. It wasn’t only Richie whose heart was breaking.

Beverly was actually deeply worried for the girl. After all, Bev had never had a good relationship with her father. He had been abusive, good for nothing, but she still loved him. She still came back time and time again. And she saw herself in Y/N. She knew that Richie never meant to hurt her and wouldn’t ever dare to lay a finger on her, but if Y/N felt that being hurt by her loved ones was alright, would she find herself in a relationship like Beverly’s in the future?

Ben’s heart was aching for her. He knew what it was like to be the outcast. He knew what it was like to find people you adored dearly only to be ripped away from them again. He was sure Y/N felt that way now. Like her safe place, for both alike, the Losers Club, would be taken from her, but most importantly, the man she thought was her father, her only family, was in some ways taken away from her. It was cruel and Ben was scared that she would feel equally lost as he did when he had to move away as a kid. He never really recovered from the hurt his mother caused him back then.

Eddie was silently breaking down in his bathroom. To him, Y/N was such a little sunshine and she didn’t deserve any of this. She didn’t deserve a hurt relationship with her father like he had with his own mother growing up. Richie didn’t deserve that either, but Eddie knew just how much this loss of reality can affect someone. He himself had felt as though he had lost his grip on reality when he spent time in the hospital after breaking his arm. When he pushed his mother to her limits. When he too felt as though he was about to lose the only biological family he had left.

Lastly, Bill was desperate. He had pushed Georgie away and never got the chance to apologise. Time was ticking. What if she or Richie wouldn’t find back together? Bill couldn’t let that happen. His mind was set on saving them the eternal heartache of knowing that it was your fault that a loved one died, the heartache of knowing that the other died feeling unloved. He felt that this was his opportunity to make things right. To not give IT the satisfaction of tearing another family apart.

Which was why he was still, after half an hour, hammering against Y/N’s room door, trying to argue with the girl who mostly replied with hums and groans.

“Y/N p-p-please… This is n-not real. I p-p-promise you.” Bill tried, now growing desperate. Impatient. He felt like he was running out of time. His back was leaned against the door, teeth gnawing at his lips.

“How can you promise that?” Y/N sobbed. The hurt she felt was inexplicable. It was just too much. Her world had been torn apart, nothing made sense anymore and she felt like she just couldn’t go on.

“B-because I c-can.” Bill said, then sighed, knowing just how stupid he sounded. “W-what are we t-to you? W-w-what does the L-Losers Club mean to you?” That sounded better in his ears.

Silence. Then, “I appreciate you.”

“W-we do too. And t-the second R-R-Richie introduced you as h-his d-daughter, I d-d-decided that, to m-me, y-you are a part of this f-f-family.” Bill replied.

“I’m not Richie’s daughter though.” She said, followed by another heart-wrenching sob echoing through the door. Bill winced.

“W-What is a f-father to you?” Bill missed Stan terribly in this situation. He would have done a much better job. He had usually been able to clear everyone’s head out, bringing people closer together again, or at least he was able to talk some sense into them. A single tear managed to escape Bill’s eye, rolling down his cheek until he caught it, wiping it away with the back of his hand. He was mourning for his friend.

“I-I’m sorry, k-kiddo. Stan w-would have been much b-better at this. Sorry. I’m t-trying here, please b-bear with me.” A dry chuckle escaped Bill’s lips. “J-just… what does a p-p-person have to do t-to be a father?”

“I don’t know.” She replied. “I really don’t know. Be there for their kid, I guess. Be honest. Take good care of them. Love them and show them that they’re loved every day. Spend time with them… That stuff.”

Bill smiled a little. “D-Didn’t Richie do m-m-most of that? I mean b-besides the honesty-part.”

She sighed. “But it’ll change so much…”

“W-what exactly would it c-change?” Bill knew that he had finally cornered her. He knew that he had Y/N exactly where he wanted. Suddenly, he felt the door move, but he wasn’t quick enough to adjust his balance and fell flat on his back, met with Y/N’s tear-stained face peeking at him shyly from behind the door. Hastily, he got up as Y/N pulled the door a little further open to grant Big-Bill access to the room. He didn’t waste a second and embraced Y/N tightly, closing the door behind them.

It felt good to be held. Y/N whimpered and winced, broken sobs and shallow gasps racked pained her airways and throat, but she felt. And that was nice.

“Shhh… Y-you’re safe. E-everything will b-be alright.” Bill mumbled, hoping to calm her, but not only her. He, too, needed some support, he needed to hear those words, even if they were his own. Otherwise he knew he would go insane.

“Promise?” Y/N mumbled. She knew it would be a lie, but just for a moment, she wanted to embrace the naïve trust of the child in her. She wanted to blindly follow what the adults told her to do and what they told her would be the truth. She didn’t want to think and decide for herself, but rather go back home, to the safe distance that separated Derry from LA, that separated Derry from the rest of the world, really.

“I p-p-promise.” Bill replied. He looked at his best friend’s presumed daughter and felt utterly helpless. Could he really promise that? He wanted her to be alright, yes, but were lies the right way?

“Can you… uh…”

“Want m-me to call R-R-Richie over?”

Y/N nodded. Bill, feeling a little at ease, grinned and left the room only to reappear a few minutes later, a shaking Richie under his arm. Dried tear streaks besmirched his paler-than-usual cheeks. Richie looked tired. Mentally exhausted, yes, but it seemed almost as though he has aged about two decades in the past hour.

“I’m r-r-right outside if y-you n-need me.” Bill told the two before stepping out, closing the door behind him. Y/N remained quiet, just like Richie. He was slumped over, hands balled in the pockets of his jacket. Y/N could see how hard he was gritting his teeth, trying not to let more tears fall. Richie looked defeated.

Y/N, however, was ready to fight. Her body was rigid, tense, and Richie thought that not even that stupid bitch of a clown would survive a fight with his little girl. Not in that very moment. There was blood on her thumb, Richie assumed she had excessively bit down on it, accidentally tearing it. Richie saw the unshed tears in her eyes and dried tear streaks stained her angrily blushing cheeks.

“Y/N, I,” Richie started, but the words caught in his throat, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

She remained quiet.

“I just… Someone left you on my doorstep. They rang the bell and just took off. I had no chance of finding out who it was. But there was a letter. I still have it at home. Couldn’t throw that stupid piece of shit paper away.” A dry chuckle escaped Richie’s lips as he stepped closer to the bed, where Y/N was standing.

“It was from your mother. I can tell you what it said, or I can give you the letter once we get home. But something about it made me want to trust that unnamed person. And you were crying. So loudly and desperately, it made me cry too. I was so fucking scared. I mean, I still am, but back in the day, everything happened so suddenly and I was still living in my fucked up one-room apartment. Fuck, I still wrote my own shit.” Richie ran a hand over his face, up to his hair, then looked at Y/N. Her arms were crossed in a defensive manner in front of her chest.

“But you looked at me with those fucking huge eyes and it was like you told me that we could do this. And I trusted you. And when you grew older, you were so much like me. I never felt the need to do a paternity test. I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N.” Richie couldn’t hold his tears back any longer. His voice sounded shallow, pained, even. Y/N just sighed, but she could feel her own tears fall, shoulders relaxing in the slightest.

“If you want me to, I’ll take the test the second we get back home. But to me you are and will always be my daughter. Fucking biology can’t change that. Please, please forgive me, little one. Please. I’m so fucking sorry.” Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier was full-on pleading now. Pure fear had taken over his body, fear of losing the most important person in his life. The little girl he had taken care of, taken in, cared for and given all his love for the longest time of his life. He couldn’t lose her.

“It’s okay, Richie. I’d just like to know if you’re my biological father too on top of being my psychological dad.” Y/N muttered before finally letting loose, allowing her body to break down again. She knew that it wasn’t just okay. She, as much as Richie knew that it would take time to rebuild their trust, to get back to where they were. She knew that she couldn’t just forgive him for basically lying to her all her life, but he couldn’t help it. He had been blind with trust and now he would have to pay the price.

Richie hesitated for a moment, not knowing if she wanted distance between them to sort out her feelings or if she was craving the comfort from the man she considered her father throughout her whole life. Ultimately, he decided against his gut-feeling and shot up from the bed, wrapping his arms around her crumbling frame.

They cried. It was raw and real and painful, but it was just as relieving. Wet, desperate sounds of hurt and heartache crawled up their throats, echoing in the room. Struggling breaths and hurried gasps. Cries for help from above. Cries for the past.

Eddie, in his room, could hear the wailing sounds. They pained him. They made him want to cry as he cleaned himself up. Eddie didn’t want anything more than for the two to be alright. He wanted the man he loved to be alright and he wanted for that man’s daughter to be alright. Eddie’s creeping hopes of going home with them rather than going back to Myra felt as though they had been shattered. He felt guilty for not wanting to go back to her, but Eddie wanted to be happy. And he felt more than just happy when he was with the Tozier-Trashmouth-duo. He felt free and accepted and loved whereas with Myra, he felt oppressed and stuck in the same vicious circle every day of his life.

He appreciated her, he appreciated how she cared for him, how she reminded him of all the meds he had to take and how he could unwind a little with her after a long day at work. Eddie did have actual romantic feelings for that woman years and years ago, but now, he felt that all those feelings had faded and since arriving in Derry, the thought of going back to Myra made him feel uneasy more than anything.

He would much rather go home with the chaotic Toziers. Get to know how they live. He could help Richie manage his life. He could help Y/N whenever she was struggling in school. Maybe, just maybe, Eddie could stay at home, make sure that everything was cleaned and cared for, cook and plan out little weekend trips. Maybe he could pick up a small job to support the duo, or he could keep working at his job, it wasn’t something he couldn’t do elsewhere, and save whatever was left of his income for Y/N’s later education.

Eddie smiled, a blush on his cheeks, as he wet the cloth, trying to get the dirt off himself. Only seconds later, his happy daydreams were rudely interrupted by the most terrifying nightmare.

Ben had checked in with the Toziers as the cleansing cries ebbed off and were replaced with soft, uneven whimpers and whispers.

“We need you two right here with us.” He had told them, eyes moving from one tear-stained face to the other. Ben looked closely, examined their faces in the most detailed way, searching for similarities between the two and ending up a little satisfied as he found a few. Like the way their noses were curved. The fine lips, the gentle eyes. Ben found that they had more in common than they might have seen. He hoped that it wasn’t just mother nature and his own mind playing tricks on him.

“We’ll stay, don’t worry.” Richie replied as he watched Ben. Little did Ben know that neither Richie nor Y/N planned on staying in Derry. Ben had closed the door behind him, his steps outside growing quieter as he was on his way downstairs, unintentionally interrupting the kiss between Bev and Bill before proudly explaining to them how he managed to get Richie and Y/N to stay.

“Let’s leave.” Richie said hurriedly, back in the room. His heart was clenching in his chest at the thought of leaving his friends, most importantly Eddie, behind to fend for themselves, but fixing his family was more important to him. The blankness of Y/N face, the emptiness of her eyes, the lack of emotion in her facial features scared Richie more than IT ever could.

Y/N nodded. She was too exhausted to interact with Richie any longer. She felt empty, almost as though with all the tears she cried, she had cried out her heart and soul and every last emotion in her brain. She felt like something had been ripped away from her. Like she was incomplete. Although she knew that Richie wasn’t really gone. He was still there, still her father, but she still felt… Strange. Because everything she had believed as she grew up might have been a huge misunderstanding. And that was a lot to take in.

Richie smiled a little. Then, he gave her a gentle clap on the shoulder, the last non-frantic movement he would make for the next few minutes. What ensued was Richie, a constant stream of swear words leaving his lips, hastily searching the room for any items that might belong to them, carelessly throwing what was left in the room into the bags. He then grabbed both bags, gently pushing his daughter to the window where a fire escape led them outside, to the comfort of the expensive car.

Y/N climbed into the back, stretching her legs across the seats while Richie threw the bags in the trunk, slamming it close, then struggled to get in and start the car. The second the motor started, Richie seemed to be a little at ease, his shoulders relaxing further the more distance he put between his little family and the hotel of horror.

Richie had turned on the radio, a random rock song was playing, and he anxiously bopped his head along to the beat. The song sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t be bothered to strain his brain for the name.

Y/N had curled up against the backseats, legs spread out over the seats. She wasn’t comfortable, but it felt better than facing the world and sitting up. She felt too tired to do that. Instead, she looked out the window, simply watching as the world passed by.

The car came to an abrupt halt, shaking the girl halfway out of her trance. She sat up a little, confused as to where the pair might be. She spotted a synagogue and let her eyes travel to Richie who now seemed to be in a little trance himself. His vision blurred with tears and he suddenly looked back at his little girl.

“Uhm… Would you- do you mind if we-“ Richie sniffled a little, pointing at the synagogue just outside. Carefully, Y/N shook her head, silently telling the man that it would be alright. And so, Richie parked the car and climbed out, leading his daughter inside. He hadn’t been there in years. Not since the bar mitzvah. Not since Stanley’s speech.

His nose filled with the typical, slightly musty smell of the place. He knew that warm but kind of old smell from the time he supported Stan when no one else would.

Richie and Y/N sat down on one of the benches and Richie’s gaze wandered through the room. In his mind, he tried to think of how it had looked back in the day. He tried to remember the decorations, how he and his mother were dressed, what Stanley wore.

How he acted. Richie’s mother had felt embarrassed that Richie couldn’t keep his Trashmouth in check for once. But not only how Richie himself acted, admittedly quite tame compared to what his teachers usually heard from him. This was about Stanley.

How he acted up against what was expected from him. How we said that he was and would always be a Loser.

How Stanley reminded Richie of who he was and would always be. That he was alright just the way he was. That he didn’t need to be afraid of who he was.

How Stanley reminded Richie that his friends needed him.

And how much he needed his friends. ‘Because Losers stick together’.

“Thank you for showing up, Stanley.” Richie sniffled in the quietest voice he could muster

And with that, Richie grabbed Y/N’s hand and pulled her outside again, ready to go meet Mike at the library. Ready to stand by his friends. Ready to fuck the bitch up who dared to lay a finger on his little girl and tried to tear them apart. And, lastly, ready to face Eddie. Because Richie really needed Eddie to know how he felt about him.

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unpack-my-heart · 5 years

Text

De Profundis

Written for @violetreddie as a very late secret santa gift! I hope you like it 🥦

@tinyarmedtrex @xandertheundead @constantreaderfool @appojoos @moonlightrichie @toziesque @eds-trashmouth

Click HERE to read the whole thing on AO3

Preview:

When they were in high school, they had always been EddieAndRichie. Inseparable, Maggie Tozier had called them. She cooed when they went to prom together, “just as friends, Eds, just friends, two bros, chillin’ in tuxes, totes platonic, you know the drill,” Richie had insisted, after badgering Eddie to tell him what colour tie he planned to wear so that they’d match. It was at this prom that they’d stood on the football field in the pouring rain and sworn that they’d apply to the University of Maine for college, that they’d convince the others to come too, but, more importantly, that they’d remain EddieAndRichie, no space, no room for anything, or anyone, else.

“It’s just you an’ me, Eds, s’how it’ll always be,” Richie had shouted, voice fighting against the torrent of water falling from the sky, and Eddie had nodded fervently.

“You and me”

After senior prom, and the most bizarre moment of Eddie’s life, when Richie had lent in so close to Eddie’s face that he went cross-eyed, and Eddie was so sure that Richie was going to kiss him, before he’d pulled away and lept out of his own mothers moving car at the intersection, everything had changed.

It wasn’t a tectonic shift at first, nothing too dramatic or noticeable to the undiscerning eye. The movies that Eddie watched late at night when his mother was having her NyQuil nightmares told him, with their hazy colour palettes, that the summer between high school and college, when he was not a boy, not yet a man, was a transformative time, an eight week stretch that didn’t abide by such silly constraints as time and space, when things, and people, changed and always, these movies insisted, always, for the better.

The movies lied.

Read the whole thing under the cut

The first day of the rest of Eddie’s life fizzled like a dud firework. The University of Maine, those hallowed halls that Eddie had romantically-with-a-capital-R imagined himself walking down, books clutched in his hands, glasses that he didn’t need perched studiously on the end of his nose, had been the place that, according to the brochure, would nurture him, would propel him forward to greatness with a great shove, and Eddie had eaten up these sickly promises greedily. In actuality, Sonia had dumped Eddie at the entrance to his dorm building with a sob and a screech, and, as soon as her car turned the corner and disappeared out of sight, the bottom of Eddie’s suitcase had given up and his clothes hit the pavement with a dull thud.

If Eddie had been the kind of person who cried, he’d have cried. He’d have dropped to his knees dramatically, thrown his head back and howled his woes at the grey-blue sky with his teeth bared. But he wasn’t. Eddie Kaspbrak didn’t cry. Instead, he swept as many articles of clothing as he could into his grasp and walked purposefully towards the registration desk.

“Eddie Kaspbrak, I’d sign my own name but … y’know, clothes”

The girl sat behind the desk laughed.

“I can see that, but I really do need your signature, otherwise I can’t hand over your keys”

“Seriously?”

“As a heart-attack, I’m afraid. I could take over on don’t-let-Eddie’s-jumpers-drag-along-the-floor duty whilst you sort yourself out though?”

“Are you sure?” Eddie asked, already thrusting the bundle of clothing at her, “you’re a life-saver, I swear to God”

“Us members of the arrival survival team take our pledge very seriously, I’m just doing my job,” the girl said with an exaggerated shrug, sending a sleeve of one of Eddie’s shirts flying over her shoulder.

Eddie filled in the relevant paperwork, signing his name with an overemphasised flourish. The girl handed his clothing back, revealing the name tag that was pinned haphazardly to her sweater.

“Kay? You’re a peach. Thank you. Now, uh,” Eddie said, shifting his grip on the clothes so he didn’t drop his keys, “which way do I need to go? I think I’m in the Arthur Lewis building but I … have no idea where that is”

– X –

The diner smelt like three-day-old oil and loneliness, the kind that only those who sought solace under the flickering lights of a 24 hour diner will ever understand, and the bell jingled miserably when Eddie pushed the door open. He shook his head like a dog, droplets of rain water spraying the wall, much to the chagrin of the overworked and under-payed waitress.

“Eddie! Over here!”

A familiar voice cut through the clanging of pots and the low chatter of the other patrons of Bob Grey’s Diner.

Eddie picked his way through the labyrinth of tables, before slumping down onto the crackled leather seat, immediately dropping his head onto Beverly’s shoulder.

“Hey,” he muttered, eyes closed against the artificial light of the sign buzzing in the window.

BOB GR Y’S DIN R

“You’re late,” Bev said, factually, but she didn’t look at him, instead continuing to push half-eaten eggs around her plate with a fork.

“I know, I got held up at home,” Eddie replied. It was a lie, a white lie but a lie nonetheless, and a lie that he knew Beverly would see right through, but he said it anyway.

“Hiya, Eds!”

“Don’t call me Eds, Richard”

It began almost immediately. Richie would lunge forward with an aborted attempt at humour, perhaps chastise Eddie for something, “why do you order like such an old woman, Eds?” and Eddie would parry with a “shut the fuck up, trash-for-brains”, before it’d start all over again. It was exhausting, and Eddie would limp off the battlefield with new wounds that would scab over and form fresh scars, but there was something intoxicating about it. The most fucked up mating ritual in the animal kingdom.

“Can I getcha anything, sweetheart?” the waitress asked, and Eddie snapped out of his introspection with a sharp jolt.

“Uh, maybe, yeah, yeah, hang on, uh, can I get the, uh – the eggs? But can I get them on whole-wheat instead of white bread, please? And, maybe, maybe the – uh – the orange juice? But no ice, oh and could you double check the eggs don’t come with pepper, please? Thank you, thank you so much”

He handed the menu back over to the disinterested waitress with a sheepish grin, and turned his attention back to the table, only to be met with that familiar Richie smirk.

The dance continued.

“So,” Richie began, and Eddie tensed, steeling himself. “So, you’ve decided you’re allergic to pepper now, too?”

“Pardon?” Eddie replied, shooting for bored but sailing straight past and landing on uptight.

“Pepper. Could you, uh, could you maybe please maybe make sure there isn’t any of that nasty sneezy pepper on my uh, on my eggs? Thank you so much, thank you,”

“Fuck you”

“If you ask nicely, sure”

“You’re incorrigible”

“That’s a big word for such a little boy”

“I’m going to garrotte you with Stan’s dental floss, don’t think I won’t, because I will, I’ll come at you in the night”

“I’m trembling in my boots, Spaghetti, honestly”

“Jesus, will you two either go fuck in the bathroom or shut up? You’re making my ears bleed,” Bev said, shoving at Richie with a playful but still sharp elbow.

The rest of the losers ignored them and their bickering, instead busying themselves with lamenting about their huge college workloads.

“Professor Sumner has really been on my ass this semester, I handed in three problem sheets yesterday and she’s still not happy –”

“Yeah! I submitted my portfolio for the semester for grading four weeks ago and I still haven’t had it back, every time I check my grade I feel like –”

“Oh Jesus and don’t even get me started on how many exams I have when we get back after the Christmas break, just looking at my exam timetable is enough to –”

“I have INTOLERANCES, Richard! It’s not my fucking fault pepper makes me sneeze!”

“Pepper makes everyone sneeze, you moron!”

The monthly brunch was permanently etched into each of the Losers’ calendars on the last Sunday of every month. It was Mike’s idea. Initially, they’d tried to stick to a weekly schedule, dedicating each and every Sunday to each other, but the cracks had soon started to show. Stan was the first to become flaky, missing this Sunday and that, citing difficult homework or plans with new friends as the reason for not showing up. Then, Bill had stopped coming almost all-together, showing his face perhaps once a month at most, and even when he did, he’d disappear almost immediately after finishing his food. When they’d gone almost a whole month without seeing each other at all, Bev had rung Eddie with steel in her voice and demanded that he help her organise an intervention. Eddie had been reticent at first, having almost convinced himself that he was bizarrely content with letting the flame of their friendship die down, but then Richie had, without warning, turned up at his door with a blanket tucked under his arm and deep purple rings framing his eyes.

“I can’t sleep”

“Come in, Rich”

– X –

“It’s just you an’ me, Eds, s’how it’ll always be,” Richie had shouted, voice fighting against the torrent of water falling from the sky, and Eddie had nodded fervently.

“You and me”

The movies lied.

The morning after senior prom, Eddie woke before Richie. He grabbed his suit, where it lay crumpled in a sad little pile in the middle of Richie’s bombsite bedroom, and left without saying goodbye. Richie didn’t ring him. Eddie hovered around in the kitchen when he got home, but the phone didn’t ring. Around lunch time, Eddie sat at the kitchen table, pretending to be very interested indeed in the story his mother was telling him about the woman who worked at the supermarket on a Wednesday and her mother’s brother’s son’s daughter’s scandalous second marriage. Yes, mother, do please tell me more about this woman and her promiscuous affair with the postman while I sit here and wait for my best-friend-but-maybe-not-anymore to ring me to settle this tempest in my stomach. The tempest raged on well into the evening, and the bland stew that Sonia Kaspbrak proffered went uneaten on the kitchen counter.

Soon enough, and without consciously realising, Eddie stopped waiting for the phone to ring.

– X –

“I can’t sleep”

“Come in, Rich”

Clasping the blanket tightly between his hands, Richie shuffled into the room.

“This is weird”

“Is it?”

“Not really,” Richie said, flopping down onto Eddie’s bed. “That’s precisely why it’s so weird”

Not knowing how to respond, Eddie busied himself putting his study materials away into neat piles. Pencils here, anthology of renaissance poetry there, a packet of post-its balanced neatly on top.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asked, and Richie nodded his head in response, before pausing for a beat, and then shaking it.

“Not really, Eddie Spaghetti, not really”

“Oh.”

A pause. A pause that stretched for slightly too long, and then a great, deafening silence. Richie lay on the bed, arm thrown dramatically over his eyes, and Eddie stood awkwardly in the corner of his own room, a stranger imposing on an intimate moment, made even more painful by the fact that he didn’t know whether he was allowed to console Richie anymore, or whether Richie would shrug him off as he would a barely-there acquaintance.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Eddie asked dutifully, but remained shielded by the comfort of his corner, a poignant distance maintained between them.

“Ah,” Richie said, a glint in his eye that Eddie didn’t recognise, “don’t worry about it. I’m fine, really I am. Just got a case of can’t-sleep-itis. I’ll survive, the prognosis looks pretty good”

Considering it was the first time in just under a month that they had spent more than brief moments in the hallways together, small waves and tiny smiles at each other over the raging sea of other students, before one of them got swept up in the tide and was pulled away before greetings could be exchanged.

“I’m going to take a lit elective,” Richie said, as easily as if he’d just told Eddie that it was going to snow the next day. “Oh, and it’s supposed to snow tomorrow”

“Pardon?”

“Yeah, the weather dude said we were supposed to get a few inches over-night, but I’ve got a few inches I can give him overnight if you catch my drift,” Richie said, grabbing at his crotch gratuitously.

‘What? No – gross. I’m not – No. I meant the lit elective, you’re taking a lit class?”

“Yup,” Richie said, popping the ‘p’ like it was bubblegum, “I got it all sorted a few weeks ago, actually. I’m taking the ‘poetry and experiment’ class”

“Ben’s taking that, he said he’s enjoying it so far, he said it was helping him push the boundaries of genre, and he said that –”

“Are we a prospectus now? Push the boundaries of genre?”

“That’s what Ben said!” Eddie said, defensively, and crossed his arms over his chest. Richie laughed at him, a laugh that Eddie had never heard before, that sounded more like a shaky gasp than genuine laughter.

“C’mere, you moron. Why are you stood in the corner, all blair-witchy?”

“I dunno”

“Yes, you do”

“No, I’m just – stood. There isn’t a reason for –”

“Yes, there is”

“No there isn’t!”

“Eds…”

“Richard”

“Come sit with me”

“Okay”

As he sat down next to Richie, Eddie could feel his heart thumping like a pneumatic drill, hammering against the cage of his ribs. He was sure that Richie could hear it too, but if he could, Richie didn’t mention it. All he did was swoop his arms around Eddie’s shoulders and tug him down, and Eddie squawked as he fell, but he still let Richie rearrange his limbs so they were sat close together, Richie tucked around Eddie’s side neatly.

“Have you spoken to Bev?” Eddie asked.

“Hmm,” Richie hummed, stroking a hand through Eddie’s hair thoughtfully. “She rang me yesterday, something about getting the old gang back together. What do you think?”

“I nearly said no”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I nearly said that I didn’t care if we all drifted apart, that that’s what happens to people when you go to college, everyone says so”

“Not everyone fought, and brutally murdered, a demonic clown from outer space with their friends before they’d even finished going through puberty, some of us still haven’t finished going through –”

The sentence died in Richie’s mouth as Eddie pummelled him with closed fists, shrieking as he did so.

“Fuck you, Richard!”

“Hey! Hey now, I’m – Jesus, short-stack, I was joking! Suspend the attack, call off the troops, ooof!”

After flipping Richie off, Eddie turned so he was lying on his side, so that his back was flush against Richie’s front.

“I know, I – I guess I was starting to forget”

“Forget?”

“Forget what it was like when we were all together, that – that feeling I get in my gut when I’m with you all, like – like this is where I’m supposed to be, you know? Like, these are my people”

Richie nodded.

“Yeah, yeah I get you. I said yes, but mainly because I was scared Red would come at me with those massive fabric shears if I said no”

With that, all of the tension drained out of the room, and out of Eddie’s spine. They spent the evening in Eddie’s bed, always curled around each other, always talking in hushed tones, always breathing in sync. When he was sure that Richie was in a deep sleep, Eddie, trying not to think too much about the reasons why, logged onto the college portal and swapped out ‘contemporary literary theory and its applications’ for ‘poetry and experiment’.

When Eddie woke in the morning, Richie had gone.

– X –

The next time Eddie saw Richie was just under a week later, when Richie loped into the seminar room for Poetry and Experiment. Eddie, who always sat next to a very enthusiastic Benjamin Hanscom, shrunk down in his seat, as if he could hide behind the three large textbooks on his table. No such luck.

“Well, fancy seeing you two fine feathered fellas here!”

“Hiya, Richie! Eddie told me you were going to start taking this course, it’s great to have you!” Ben said, pulling out the empty chair next to him, before gesturing for Richie to sit down.

“Ah, yes, he told me that you’d be here, handsome, but not that he took this course also! Holding out on me, Kaspbrak?”

“Well, actually, Eddie has only just transferred to this course, he dropped –”

“Hey! Ben, esslay ofyay ethay ansferredtray,” Eddie hissed at Ben, but Richie just raised an eyebrow in challenge.

“oureyay utecay enwhay oureyay anickedpay. You’re not the only one that speaks Pig Latin here, Eds”

“Shut up”

“Ever the charmer, isn’t he, Ben? Just gets my heart a’thumpin,” Richie said, before he reached down into his backpack and pulled out a notebook. “Right, I don’t know about you but I’m ready to flex my poetry muscles, you up for the challenge, Kaspbrak?”

“Bring it on, Richard”

– X –

The seminar was a disaster. Each of the students stood up at the end of the two hour session to read out what they had so far, and Eddie was the last to go. He stood up with trembling knees and read from his notebook in wavering, hushed tones.

“…That way, she’d live forever. That’s, uh, that’s all I’ve got”

Richie yawned, long, dramatic, and fake, from his corner of the room.

“Blank verse? Pretty uninspired, Eds. It’s okay, though, we can’t all be John Milton, no hard feelings”

“At least I don’t have a stupid fucking TS Eliot tattoo,” Eddie shot back lightning fast, face immediately creasing in embarrassment when the professor shot up, scolding him for his profanity.

“Now, enough! Sit down you two. Eddie, that poem was a good start indeed, but I am tempted to side with Richie on this, blank verse was certainly the easy way out. I have a few other notes …”

Immediately after the seminar had ended and the professor had dismissed them, Eddie shot out of the room as quickly as a buttered bullet.

“Eddie! Wait!”

It was Ben.

“I have a message to deliver to the whole class, could you come back a sec?”

Reluctantly, Eddie slunk back into the classroom to find Ben stood at the front of the room, several pieces of paper in his hands.

“Right, as most of you, or at least some of you, know, I’ve wanted to start an undergraduate literary journal here at U of M for some time, and I managed to convince the dean to give me the funding so … here we are! I’ve got enough writers for the criticism and stuff, but I need some essayists and poets to flesh out the fiction sections. If you want to submit work, please take a signup sheet! Thanks, guys!”

As soon as Ben had stopped talking, and a small huddle of people had gathered around him, Eddie slipped out of the room again.

“Eds! Wait!”

It was Richie

“Jesus, I didn’t know such little legs could move so fast,” he continued, jogging to catch up with Eddie who didn’t slow down.

“What do you want, Richie?”

“Not signing up for the journal? I thought you’d want to submit She Who Mocks or something”

“Naw, like the professor said, it was uninspired,” Eddie mumbled, taking a sharp left turn, almost losing Richie to the thrum of the crowds in the process.

“I don’t think the prof used that word, Eds, and I was just ribbing you when I said it, you know that”

“Drop it, Rich. I’m not signing up”

“Well, neither am I, so you’re in good company. Mike ran into me earlier and said that he and Stan were going to be at the ‘bucks, shall we?”

“Never call it ‘the ‘bucks’ again and you’ve got yourself a deal”

– X –

To: [email protected]:

So … this journal thing

From: [email protected]:

you gonna sign up? :O

To: [email protected]:

Thinking about it. What do I have to do?

From: [email protected]:

send me the poem you’d like to submit, and if it’s successful it’ll be in the Christmas vol which will be published just b4 the end of this semester!!!!!!

To: [email protected]:

If I do submit something, which I might not, you can’t tell R

From: [email protected]:

why?

To: [email protected]:

Just don’t, okay?

From: [email protected]:

he likes u, u know

To: [email protected]:

*rolling eye emoji*

From: [email protected]:

Send it to my college email when you’re done x

Eddie logged off of AOL messenger, opened a blank word document, and took a deep breath.

– X –

Eddie had almost forgotten about the literary journal when a copy of The Maine Literary Review landed in his pigeon hole one frosty December morning. He blinked stupidly at the journal for a few seconds, before he picked it up gingerly, as if it might explode in his hands. Holding his breath, and anxious for a reason he couldn’t place, he flicked to the contents page, and there it was, in size twelve Calibri font.

Birdbones by Mr Bleaney (p. 23)

“Huh,” Eddie breathed out loud to no one but himself. “Huh”

He was now, technically, a published poet. Edward F. Kaspbrak, published poet. It had a ring to it. Not that anyone would know that he, demure little Eddie, had actually written birdbones, and if anyone asked, of course he’d deny ownership. But he knew, and that was enough.

He scanned the rest of the contents page briefly, and his eye was caught by one particular name.

You by De Profundis (p. 24)

Eddie rolled his eyes. De Profundis. Almost certainly a pseudonym chosen for the writers affinity for Oscar Wilde.. He flicked to page twenty-four, and read the sonnet once, twice, three times before he shoved the journal in the front zip pocket of his backpack. Trite. That was the word that most accurately described what he had just read. Trite, with a sort of cloying optimism that turned Eddie’s stomach and made his teeth itch.

When he returned to his dorm in the brief interlude between classes, he started jotting a few lines of verse down, mind swimming with You, You, You, and then, before he’d given it much conscious thought, a new poem was staring up at him, fresh and shiny. And, within it, a small, barely-there jab at De Profundis.

… From the depths of vacuity, he sits, Promethean, ….

When he found the time, Eddie typed the poem up and sent it off to Ben without giving it a second thought.

– X –

“You’re late again”

“I know, I know”

“Richie’s late too”

“I know”

“You walked in together”

“I am aware”

“Do you have anything you’d like to –”

“Absolutely not,” Eddie said, turning his body away from Bev and her inquisition, and towards Mike and Stan who were currently debating the merits of IHOP syrup over the stuff Stan buys at Trader Joes.

Richie sat next to Eddie, elbows on the table, head cradled in the palm of his hands. He was watching Eddie. Eddie could see him, out of the corner of his eye, helped by the fact that Richie was making no attempt to hide his gaze.

“Have I got syrup on my face?” Eddie asked eventually, squirming under Richie’s gaze.

“Nope”

“A bit of pancake? A forgotten smudge of shaving foam?”

“Don’t joke, Eds, we all know you don’t need to shave yet”

“Asshole,” Eddie scolded, and he tried to shove at Richie with his hand but Richie caught it mid-air, and pulled it down towards the familiar crackled leather of the booth.

Eddie tried to pull his hand away, but Richie held tight, wrapping Eddie’s smaller hand up in his. They weren’t holding hands, not really, but Eddie’s hand was soft and pliant in Richie’s and it almost felt like something, something that just friends don’t do.

“So,” Ben started, drumming his fingers on the table in what Eddie imagined Ben hoped looked inconspicuous, “the first volume of my journal came out”

“I’m so proud of you, babe,” Bev said, running a hand through Ben’s sandy hair.

“Aw, I barely did anything. I had some really great submissions, actually. Especially from two poets in particular, really chalk and cheese, but I put them together because –”

The rest of Ben’s sentence faded to white noise as Eddie felt Richie’s hand tense around his. Eddie looked up at Richie, and was met with a soft smile and a squeeze for his efforts.

“You okay?” Richie whispered.

“I’m fine, I’m great, yeah, it’s all groovy”

“Groovy?”

“S’what I said”

“Why are you nervous?”

“I’m not nervous”

“Yes you are”

“M’not”

“Is it because I’m holding your hand?”

“Absolutely not”

And, as if to prove it, Eddie wiggled his fingers in between Richie’s, interlocking them so that they were holding hands properly.

“Eddie, have you looked at Ben’s journal yet? Inquiring minds want to know,” Stan asked, an innocent enough question but panic shot through Eddie’s spine like adrenaline.

“Uh, sort of. I had a flick through, I wasn’t that impressed”

Richie’s thumb stilled from where it was rubbing small circles on Eddie’s skin.

“You weren’t?” Ben asked, sounding mildly hurt.

“Oh, I mean, it was put together beautifully and your editor’s note was brilliant, and some of the essays were very good, very original stuff about Frankenstein and I liked the thought piece about the influence of Icelandic ghost stories on nineteenth-century culture, but some of the poems were …"

Eddie paused, and Richie didn’t breathe.

“Some of the poems were awful”

“Awful?” Richie asked, voice quieter and more serious than Eddie had heard it in a long time.

“Well, maybe not awful but … cliché. Chocolate box poetry, a dime a dozen type stuff”

“Care to name drop any particularly awful pieces?”

“Well, that birdbones poem was pretty shite, and the pseudonym was ridiculous”

“You like that Larkin poem, though. You read it to me when we moved out of Derry, said that it made you feel old and young all at the same time,” Richie said, voice even but Eddie could sense there existed an undercurrent of annoyance.

“Well yes, but … still,” Eddie finished feebly, waving his hands around as if they could speak better than his mouth.

“Huh,” was all Richie said, before excusing himself to the bathroom, and, without providing an explanation to the rest of his friends, Eddie followed him.

Richie was standing in front of the sink when Eddie pushed his way into the men’s room, staring at himself in the grimey mirror.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asked, leaning against the wall and trying not to think about the hundreds of other patrons who had also leant against that very wall, very probably without having washed their hands or their other appendages properly.

“Huh? Me? I’m fine, Eddie Spaghetti, don’t you worry about me”

“I’m not worried, I’m just … concerned”

“Eddie,” Richie laughed, turning around, “they’re synonyms. They mean the same thing”

“No they don’t!” Eddie insisted, “they mean entirely different things. Worry is more extreme, I am … diluted worry, worry with added water”

“Whatever you say, my little worrywart,” Richie said, pushing his way out of the bathroom to re-join the others at their booth. Eddie followed, unconvinced but not willing to push it further.

– X –

The next volume of The Maine Literary Review landed in Eddie’s pigeon hole three weeks after Christmas break. As he had before, Eddie flicked to the contents page with shaking fingers. And, as had been the case before, there he was, or rather, there Mr Bleaney was, right there, immortalised on the page.

From the Depths by Mr Bleaney (p. 14)

Eighteen by De Profundis (p. 15)

There they were, right next to each other, nestled on opposite pages like the best of friends. The name of Eddie’s poem would surely catch the attention of De Profundis, and if that didn’t, the reference in the poem surely would, if De Profundis would actually bother to read Eddie’s poem, of course.

– X –

Eddie would always remember the first time De Profundis name checked him in one of their poems. He’d been idly flicking through the Journal, not having been enticed by the title of his self-proclaimed rivals offering, – The Sailor Who Fell From The Stars – and he’d decided to briefly scan the poem when a particular stanza caught his eye.

From the depths of vacuity

All I see are flowered curtains, thin and frayed,

Falling to within five inches of the sill.

Do you warrant better? I don’t know ….

A fist made of stone and poetry punched Eddie in the stomach. De Profundis used his words. De Profundis used his words, spat them back in his face, and then stamped on them for good measure.

This was, as far as Eddie was concerned, a declaration of war, and Eddie wasn’t about to surrender.

– X –

Void. by Mr Bleaney (1st Feb 2003)

… the winds are cold and so are you,

baseless insults, show yourself ….

Testify by De Profundis (11th March 2003)

… the winds grow tired of your howling, the void will spit you out ….

Everything by Mr Bleaney (23rd April 2003)

one day

you will bleed the words I

breathed into your skin

and there will be no bandage

and you will rot in a pool of naïve

sincerity you never deserved

sssssstutter by De Profundis (15th May 2003)

… my fuh-fuh-friend, don’t bluh-bluh-bleed on the carpet,

Your wuh-words will stain …

I am not your friend by Mr Bleaney (4th June 2003)

See above.

“Eddie,” Ben sighed, the crackle of the phone signal obscuring his words somewhat, “That last submission wasn’t really a poem, was it”

“Who are you, Benjamin Hanscom, to tell me that that wasn’t a poem. You’re telling me that that doesn’t count as a post-structuralist, postmodernist attempt to subvert the reader’s expectations about what poetry actually is and force them to look up for answers? Up to the title, perhaps? You need to broaden your horizons, Sir”

“Eddie.”

“Yes, yes, fine. I know it was a bullshit excuse for a poem, but you didn’t have to publish it!” Eddie said, voice verging on shrill.

Ben sighed. “Yes I did. You would have accused me of ‘not appreciating your art’ if I didn’t. And, at any rate, I heard from De Profundis a few days before”

“… You did?”

“Yes. He asked if you’d sent in a response to stutter”

“Ssssstutter,” Eddie corrected, causing Ben to laugh. “Why did he want to know?”

“Ask him yourself”

Eddie rolled his eyes, but, upon realising that Ben couldn’t see him roll his eyes over the phone, Eddie just groaned.

“I’ve got to go, I’m meeting Rich at Coffee Hoppers in 10”

“Enjoy your date”

“Thanks – wait, I mean, it’s not a date! Ben! It’s not a –”

Ben had already hung up.

– X –

When Eddie arrived at the warm, hazily lit coffee shop, Richie was already there, sat on one of the plush, squishy sofas in the corner with two steaming mugs sat in front of him on the table.

“Hey, Rich. What do I owe you?” Eddie said, sitting down next to Richie.

“Naw, I got you, Eds. It’s my pleasure to keep you in your disgustingly sweet coffee-but-not-really drinks,” Richie said, batting his eyelashes at Eddie.

Although it had no reason to be, the atmosphere was charged. They were sat close together, knees knocking every time one of them shifted, but this was no unusual thing. They often sat close together, if not on top of each other, Richie’s legs sprawled across Eddie’s lap, or Eddie perched on the end of Richie’s knees when they were in Bill’s beaten up old truck. No, the unusual thing about this particular coffee date, was the fact that as soon as Eddie sat down, Richie grabbed his hand.

“So,” Richie started, “the new volume of Ben’s journal comes out tomorrow”

“Does it?”

“Yup. Have you been keeping up with it?”

“Sort of, not really, I don’t know. Have you seen the new adaptation they’re doing of that Stephen King book? It looks pretty good, Bill said’ he’d go see it with me, I know that –”

“Ah, yeah yeah, I’ve seen the advert. It looks … fine. Why’re you going with Big Bill, though?”

Eddie blinked.

“Because … he likes films like that?”

“So do I,” Richie huffed, knitting his eyebrows in a way that should look petulant but instead just looks endearing.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, Oh”

“Do you, I mean – you don’t have to, but would you like –”

“Eddie Spaghetti, it would be an honour to escort you to the movies to get our scream on”

“Our scream on?” Eddie said faintly, and Richie laughed.

“Y’know, like, screaming at horror movies. Get your mind out of the gutter, you dirty bird”

Well before Eddie was ready to let Richie go, the clock struck four in the afternoon, and Richie had to leave to pick up his shift at the local video store.

“I’ll ring you about arranging our movie date, Eds,” Richie said, wriggling into his jacket and smoothing his hair down.

Eddie laughed. “Yeah, yeah, our date”

“Um. Yeah? Like, holding hands in the dark, I’ll buy the popcorn if you buy the tickets, type thing?”

“Oh, like, a real real date?”

“I mean – I thought that much was obvious, Eds”

“Uh – I guess it is now. I’ll ring you, or you ring me – you ring me, yeah, I’ll wait for your call, or I’ll – yeah. Date”

“You’re ridiculous, Spaghetti head”

And with that, Richie was planting a kiss on the top of Eddie’s head, before bustling out of the coffee shop and disappearing out of view.

On the table, lay a book. It was face down, and Eddie grabbed it, standing up with the intention of chasing after Richie, who had forgotten it, but he thought better of it. He’d give it back to Richie in their next Poetry and Experiment seminar, or on their … date. Whichever came first.

Eddie sat back down, and turned the book around to look at the cover.

De Profundis and Other Writings

Oscar Wilde

Penguin Classics

Huh.

There were several small pieces of paper sticking out of the book, and Eddie could see that the pieces were littered with the familiar scribbled scrawl of Richie’s writing. With curiosity getting the better of him, Eddie gently tugged a few of the pieces of paper out of the book.

The first piece had a few lines from a Keats poem scribbled on it,

Sweet, sweet is the greeting of eyes,

And sweet is the voice in its greeting,

When adieus have grown old and goodbyes

Fade away where old Time is retreating.

The second had a stanza of a poem Eddie didn’t recognise written on it, but the last, the last one he did recognise. It was only a line, but it was a line he’d stared at for hours, trying to come up with a response, wracking his brain, willing his fingers.

the winds grow tired of your howling, the void will spit you out

Without even thinking, Eddie could name the poem, and the author.

De Profundis.

Could it … ?

The bell above the door of the coffee shop rang out, and Eddie’s head snapped up. Richie was walking back over to him, hair and coat damp with late winter rain. Eddie shoved the pieces of paper back into the book with trembling fingers.

“Sorry, Eds, forgot my,” Richie gestured at the book sat bereft on the table, before picking it up and tucking it into his messenger bag.

Eddie nodded wordlessly.

“Okay well, I really gotta run, so I’ll see you – later?”

Eddie nodded again, face contorted into a grimace that, try as he might, wouldn’t be chased off of his face. Richie left without another word, but shot glances at Eddie over his shoulder until he disappeared from view once more.

– X –

“You’re … early,” Bev said, swirling the straw around in her Bloody Mary.

“I know”

“Is Richie not with you?”

“Nope”

“Where is he?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know?” Eddie snapped, regretting it immediately when Bev’s eyebrows shot up. “Sorry, I just – stressed. I have a lot of homework due”

“Hmmm,” Bev hummed, unconvinced, but her train of thought was interrupted by Richie’s arrival.

“Good afternoon, fellow human people!” He said, slotting into the booth next to Eddie.

“Hullo, Rich” Mike said, ignoring Richie’s request for a fist bump in favour of continuing to absently scritch a hand through Stan’s hair.

“Lame,” Richie shot back, before turning to Eddie. “I’ve looked at the showing times for the movie, can you do Friday?”

“Uh, no. I’ve got – homework”

“Sunday?”

“Homework”

“Next Tuesday?”

“Uh, homework,” Eddie supplied feebly, shrugging his shoulders.

“Oh, uh – okay. Maybe you could pick the date then? Let me know when you’re free?” Richie said, the timidity of his voice tugging at Eddie’s heart.

“Yeah, yeah – I’ll ring you”

The conversation ebbed and flowed for several hours, before Richie, drunk as a skunk, began to tap on his glass with a spoon covered in whipped cream.

“Attention! Ladies and germs, can I have your attention”

“Jesus Christ,” Stan said, rolling his eyes. “About to announce that you’re pregnant with Eddie’s child, finally?”

“What? Ew, gross. Not everyone shares your fondness for MPREG fanfiction, Stanley,” Richie said, earning a fork to the head for his trouble. “No, I have another announcement to make. I, Richard “Big Dick” Tozier, am a published poet”

Eddie’s stomach dropped to the floor.

“Yes, it’s true,” Richie continued, “I have been sending in work to Benny-boy’s little journal and he’s been publishing it! Fancy that, you all being in the presence of a celebrity”

“Hey, Rich! That’s pretty cool!” Mike said, reaching over the table to shake Richie’s hand.

“I thought you told me not to tell anyone?” Ben asked.

“Yeah, I didn’t want you telling anyone, but this is me telling everyone, so that’s different,” Richie said, sitting back down and he leant his head against Eddie’s shoulder.

“Are you proud of me, Eds?”

“Yes, very proud,” Eddie deadpanned, wringing his hands in his lap.

“I have a rival, you know. I’m Byron, and ‘Mr Bleaney,” Richie mocked, “‘Mr Bleaney’ is Polidori”

“Oh really?” Eddie said, trying to keep his voice as calm and even.

“Yup! He started it, taking the piss out of my pseudonym, when his is just as stupid. You said so yourself! That stupid Larkin poem. I know you like it, Eds, but I don’t. Too bleak. And his poetry,” Richie mock-retched, “God is it depressing. Not a single hopeful theme, would it kill the guy to use a happy metaphor for once? Even your poetry is less dull”

“My poetry?”

“Yup! You’re a much better writer than Mr Bleaney”

“Good to know,” Eddie replied sharply, but Richie was already distracted, talking to Ben about his latest submission.

After brunch, Eddie disappeared before Richie could stop him.

– X –

The first time Eddie realised he liked Richie in a more-than-friends sort of way, they’d been sitting in the back of Bill’s rusty old truck, on their way to the drive-in. It was the night before Halloween, and their local drive-in was showing back to back classic Zombie films into the early hours of the morning. Bill had bribed all of the Loser’s to go with him, with the promise of all-they-could eat popcorn, a promise Richie took as a challenge. They had been sat together in the truck bed, three blankets wrapped around their shoulders, huddled together for warmth. Richie had hooked an arm around Eddie’s shoulder and pulled him in, so that Eddie’s head was nestled neatly in the crook of Richie’s neck.

“I’ll keep you warm, Eds, don’t you worry. I won’t let you turn into an eds-icle”

“You’re jokes are so fuckin’ lame, Rich”

“You love them,” Richie had said confidently, eyes sparkling in the late October moonlight, and Eddie was sucker punched by the realisation that it wasn’t just Richie’s jokes that he loved.

– X –

Nearly a month later, someone knocked at Eddie’s door, a knock that was shortly followed by a muffled voice.

“Eddie?”

A pause.

“Eddie? I know you’re in there”

Another pause. Eddie held his breath.

“Eds, please”

Breath escaped Eddie’s lips without permission.

“Rich?” he called out from the safety of his blanket nest, voice hoarse from lack of use.

“Eddie”

Another pause.

Richie sighed audibly from behind the door. “Eddie, I can’t sleep.”

“Have you tried counting sheep?” Eddie said, and he shifted from the confines of his bed, padded across the room with silent steps, and stood with his arm extended, palm flat against the wood of the door.

“I’m sorry,” Richie said, and Eddie pulled his hand back from the door, as if he’d been burnt.

“What?”

“I said I’m – I’m sorry”

“What for?”

“I’m not entirely sure, but I’m sure I did something that made you pull away from me like this, and whatever it was, I’m sorry”

The large, angry lump in Eddie’s throat refused to be swallowed.

“Richie, Rich, you haven’t – you haven’t done anything”

“Then why won’t you let me in?” Richie pleaded, voice cracking, and that was enough, enough of a catalyst to tug on Eddie’s poor, weary heart.

Eddie wrenched the door open, and Richie all but fell onto his chest.

“Rich, I’m the one who should be saying sorry, I’ve been an asshole”

“No you haven’t”

“Yes I have!”

“Well … maybe a tiny bit of an asshole. I just – I don’t get it”

Eddie shrugged, arms still wrapped loosely around Richie’s shoulders. “There isn’t really much to get, I’m just an asshole who doesn’t deserve friends like you, I guess”

Richie looked up, eyes shiny. “Friends?”

“Uh –” Eddie stammered, “I don’t know, Rich. You mess with my head, you know”

“You mess with mine too,” Richie said, and then they said nothing more, just stood in the middle of Eddie’s shitty little dorm room, and embraced.

When Eddie woke in the morning, Richie was gone. What lay in his place, next to Eddie’s head on the pillow, was a note.

I’ll wait for you at Coffee Hoppers after class

My bounty is as boundless as the sea,

My love as deep; the more I give to thee,

The move I have, for both are infinite.

R x

As the piece of paper fluttered to the floor, Eddie knew what it was that he must do.

– X –

I Loved You First by Mr Bleaney (21st August 2003)

I loved you first: but afterwards your love

Outsoaring mine, sang such a loftier song

As drowned the friendly cooings of my dove.

Which owes the other most? My love was long,

And yours one moment seemed to wax more strong;

I loved and guessed at you, you construed me

And loved me for what might or might not be –

Nay, weights and measures do us both a wrong.

For verily love knows not ‘mine’ or ‘thine’;

With separate ‘I’ and ‘thou’ free love has done,

For one is both and both are one in love:

Rich love knows nought of ‘thine that is not mine;’

Both have the strength and both the length thereof,

Both of us, of the love which makes us one.

By Mr Bleaney / Eds.

– X –

Hammering on the door.

“EDDIE!”

Silence.

“EDDIE! Seriously, open the fucking door!”

More hammering.

“Eddie! –”

The door opened and two bodies collide.

“How long have you –”

“I didn’t know how to tell you –”

“You write so beautifully –”

“I love you –”

“Rich?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up”

With a renewed boldness, Eddie leant in and pressed his lips to Richie’s, and, for the first time, they wrote poetry together.

#reddie #it fanfiction #it fandom #IT 2017 #IT 2019 #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #richie tozier x eddie kaspbrak #college au #poetry au #fanfic #richie #eddie #it novel #stephen king #reddie fan fiction

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floralreddie · 5 years

Note

If requests are still open are you up to making a Richie x reader x bev where things get kinda steamy between reader and bev and Richie walks in?

okay, so this has been sitting in my ask box for forever and for that i am sorry. i l o v e this, though. my bi has practically died when bill hader was cast as richie, and then jessica chastain as bev. that being said, our losers are 18 in this. enjoy! also, the clown fucker doesn’t exist in this au.

The Three Of Us

warnings: smut, swearing

forever taglist: @pearltheartist@mikoalabearwrites @arielgirly @trashmouth-smashmouth@mzcescapie@somenates27@reddiesballoons@cawcawhawkeye@richietoaster@sassy-molassy@fuckin-richie@zerealromaniangurl@notagoodplace4gods @itsway-past-mybedtime@homohayls @reddiefic@trashmouth-tozier69@temptedtozier@bitchardtozier@virgo-green @reddietofall @gczebos@tozierkasqbrak @temptedtozier @zerealromaniangurl @anniewdoodles@reddiefic @wyattsnoodles @deux-mille-deux @eds-trashmouth @thecastlebyers @r-richie @erinn-l

The thing is, you’ve always been aware that you like both.

It was never really something you had to worry about, and maybe that’s because your friend group, the one you all, in your youth, called The Losers Club, was a little sphere of acceptance and love that the outside world could not touch. You were thirteen when you linked the heat in your stomach and the blush on your cheeks with seeing both the hard lines and broad shoulders of man, and the curves and strength of woman.

You were fifteen when, under the covers of the bed you had both made in Bill’s basement, you had told Beverly Marsh just this. You were closest to Eddie and Richie, but you being the two girls, your friendship with Bev was special. You were the shoulder she cried on when her father was finally locked away. You were the one who helped her rid her apartment of anything that reminded her of him, as her Aunt moved to Derry to look after her. You were the one who helped her choose the red lipstick that was her colour. You were two girls, shunned by others for people different, who found solace with each other amongst a group of boys who were family.

‘Do you think I’m weird?’ you ask her, over the sound of Ben’s snores and Eddie’s constant shifting.

Bev, with her bright blue eyes and mess of red hair, curls her mouth into a smile that makes the pale of her cheeks turn pink. ‘If you’re weird,’ she whispers, her toes nudging against your calve. ‘Then I guess I’m weird, too’.

You had blinked and then grinned, letting out a high pitch whisper of, ‘Really?’ You’re not too surprised, really.

Bev ducks her head a little closer and bites her tongue. You hear Richie mutter sleepily for Ben to stop fucking snoring, before quiet rules again. ‘I always thought I just liked girls, but then…’ She snickers, and you lean in closer. ‘Richie got cute this year, don’t you think?’

You splutter loudly, causing Bev to giggle in alarm. No, you did not think that Richie fucking Tozier was cute. Richie Tozier was a tall and gangly nerd who drank too much Coke and told too many stupid jokes.

‘Will you both b-be quiet?’ Bill mutters groggily through the night, and you and Bem have to clutch hands tightly under the covers to mask your manic giggles.

It’s a few months later when you see what Bev in an entirely different light.

You’ve always been aware she is beautiful, both out of pure fact and only slightly out of attraction. Never, though, had you looked at for too long when you both changed at one of your many sleepovers, or when you lounged by the various lakes dotted around Derry. You respected Bev too much for that.

There’s a dance at school, and six out of the eight Losers decide to go as a group. Mike has a date with some girl from near his farm, and he’s just elated to be able to take her to a real High School dance, since he used to be home-schooled. Bill decides to go with the head of the Poetry Club, some girl you knew only distantly.

You all gather at yours, because your parents were out (again) so your house was free for cheap drinks and getting ready. You decide on a black dress that ends just above your knees, and boots that Richie had given you once he had grown out of them. Shockingly, they were in pretty good condition. You know your mother would roll her eyes at your attire, but despite your clumpy shoes, you feel pretty in your straight black dress and dark lipstick.

You answer the door and the boys are standing there. Stan eyes your boots with a twist of smile and an eye roll. Ben tells you that you look lovely. Eddie beams in his smart suit and rolls his eyes when Richie whistles and says, ‘Gee whizz’, with an appreciative brow wiggle.

You try not to blush. Really. ‘Get in here, idiot,’ you grumble, opening the door some more as they pile in.

Richie sidles up to your as the others talk, and Eddie perks up as a song comes on the radio that he likes. Richie is taller than you by far, and you can’t help but smirk at the fact he is wearing contacts for once. He looks down at you, and you look up at him, and you’re momentarily stunned when he murmurs, ‘I’m not joking, y’know. You look beautiful, toots’.

You blush scarlet and stutter out, as he smirks, ‘Anyone want a drink whilst we wait for Bev?’

It is as you are handing out cheap beers that your Dad keeps in the basement when Bev walks in, having not bothered ringing the doorbell, and your stomach nearly falls out of your butt.

She’s radiant.

She’s wearing a red, strapless dress that seems a little too big on her, but somehow she pulls it off. Her hair, longer now, is tucked behind her ears, and her red lipstick shines as she smiles. On her feet, are a pair of tiny heels that show off her red painted toenails.

You choke on air, as Richie mutters lowly beside you, ‘It’s a wonder we get anything done with you two hanging around us’.

When Bev smiles at you and takes the bottle of beer, you realise that you’re fucked.

It’s a year later, a whole year of knowing full well you have a crush on Bev, when you’re sixteen, that you fully understand you might also like Richie, too.

It’s just the two of you at the Barrens, cigarettes hanging out of your mouths as you bitch and moan about how hard Biology was this year. In just one year, it seemed that all of the boys had left you and Bev behind height-wise, even Eddie, but Richie towered above you all.

‘So,’ Richie says, blase and whilst taking a deep drag. ‘I’m getting kinda impatient waiting for you to tell me that you like Bev’.

You stare at him, smoke drifting lazily from your mouth as you gape. With a quirk of a smile, his glasses slipping down his nose, Richie plops your mouth closed with a flick of his finger. ‘What?’

He snorts and flicks his cigarette into the water. ‘C’mon, it’s me. If anyone knows the look of pathetic longing, it’s me. I’m pretty sure I looked at you like that for a good four years-’

‘What?’

‘Oh,’ Richie waves a hand and rolls his brown eyes. ‘Like you didn’t know’. You most definitely did not know. ‘Anyway, you should say something to her. I know for a fact she wouldn’t mind’.

You glare at him and flick your own cigarette away. ‘What the fuck does that mean, Tozier?’

He smirks, all cocky and tall and staring down at you. ‘It means Bev and I talk a lot’.

He takes a step forward.

You stare up at him.

And then you push him.

You’re not sure why you do not. You’re flustered that he firstly told you he used to like you, and then how he blundered you with information about Bev and your crush on her. You panic. So you push him.

He lands with a splash in the water, a strain of curses leaving his mouth, before the Trashmouth stares up at you with a bellowing laugh, his white t-shirt becoming see-through, and yanks you down with him.

‘Mature,’ he quips, over your shout of indignation as your bare knees hit the water and pebbles. You kneel to his side, your body half landing on his, and blink as the hard lines of his stomach appear through his soaked shirt.

With fluttering lashes, you look up at see Richie eyeing you, his cheeks pink and his mouth pulled into a half grin. He nudges you with his nose and plants a quick kiss on the corner of your mouth, before he pulls away and says, as if nothing had happened, ‘Y’know, you and Bev always were my favourites’.

As he stands and offers you his hand, his smirk in place and your cheeks flaming, you try and squash the swirling in your stomach and realise that, yeah, you’re fucked.

‘You, Bev and Rich are close lately,’ Stan observes one day at lunch. You’re the first two sitting at the round table pushed into the corner of the cafeteria. You look at him and away from your Lit notes, your brow raised.

‘So what?’

He shrugs and tugs at the collar of his shirt. ‘Just making an observation,’ he murmurs, in a way that is so typically a back-handed way of Stan say something entirely different to what he’s actually saying. ‘They’re a lot more touchy with you, don’t you think?’

You have no idea what to say, so you just pull a face at him, to which he rolls his eyes. Still, you don’t miss the way his light gaze flashes to yours when Bev sits on your left and Richie your right, and the two lean so close to you whilst telling you about their Art class that your nearly get whiplash looking back and forth.

Richie smells like spicy cologne and something musty. Bev smells like cigarettes and the sun.

Your face is bright pink the whole of lunch, and when Bev pinches your cheek and tells you so, you go maroon.

Richie practically chokes on his milk.

You turn seventeen a few months later, and in that time your surely notice how Bev and Richie are closer. They whisper with each other, even when it’s just the tree of you hanging out, and you leave the room for just a minute. They’ve always been the touchy-feely ones of the group, but something in the way that they hang off of each other, now that you know how you feel about them…

It makes your stomach clench and your chest tight.

You don’t tell Bev about your half-kiss with Richie. You don’t even tell Eddie about it, and that boy was your personal therapist. He was the only one you had told about liking Bev, simply because you knew how he felt about Bill. Straight as a ruler Bill.

You supposed you were luckier. At least Bev liked girls, too.

It’s three days after your seventeenth, in which you all went bowling, that you hang out with Bev and Richie. It was Bev who had called you just an hour after school had finished, a question of whether you wanted to watch a movie in her room with her whilst her Aunt went out to her bi-weekly Thursday Book Club.You say yes, of course.

When you get there, a grinning Richie Tozier answers your quick knock on Bev’s front door.

He’s grinning and wearing a floral, button up shirt with the first three buttons undone, and you try very hard not to eye the flash of collarbones and the jump of his Adam’s Apple when he calls your name in a sing-song voice. He pulls you in with a tug on the waist of your dress, and you roll your eyes and say, ‘Hello, Richard’.

With a waggle of his brow and pinch to your side, the taller boy remarks, ‘I do love it when you use my full name, toots’.

Bev rounds the corner into the hallway then, decked out in blue shorts and a strappy top. ‘Sorry,’ she drawls, blue eyes flashing to Richie. ‘He told me to surprise you’.

There’s something in their quick shared gaze that makes you want to squirm.

It’s only when you’re a quarter a way into some shitty action film that you realise that Stan might have had a point. Richie sits on your right again, and Bev on your left, and you cannot breathe. They’re everywhere; from Bev nuzzled up to your side with one leg thrown over your knee and the other hanging over the edge of the sofa, to Richie, with his long arm practically slung over the both of you and-

God, you must be as red as Eddie’s favourite fucking shorts.

You feel like you might explode. Bev keeps shifting closer, somehow, and the smell of her fruity perfume and her soft skin pressing against your bare arm…it’s making your stomach swirl and your palms sweat. Richie’s arm moves slightly, so that his long-fingered hand is resting between yours and Bev’s shoulders, and your heart does a fucking pirouette when you feel those fingers tug at your long hair and her short, making the two stark contrast of coloured strands mix.

Bev lets out a small little sigh and tilts her head to the side as she watches the screen, and Richie shuffles further down the couch, his long legs spreading and his fingers dart across the juncture where your neck meets your jaw, and Bev legs one hand fall from her bent knees to land on your thigh, her fingers distractedly running across where her thigh meets yours-

They’re doing this on purpose. They must be. There is no way that they cannot hear you’re heavy breathing, or feel the way your whole body seems to be one big blush.

‘Bathroom,’ you choke out suddenly, making Richie jump and Bev lean back suddenly, blue eyes wide. You cough and dart to your feet, untangling from the both of them.

As you stumble to the bathroom, cheeks red and the pit of your stomach hot, you swear your Richie mutter, ‘…thought….would work’.

To which Bev murmurs, ‘….be patient…ich…special’.

It’s your eighteenth Birthday and you’re at a house party.

Not surprising, really. There was always some kind of teenage party in Derry, simply because there wasn’t really anything else for the youth of the small town to do on weekends once they reached a certain age. It’s not your party, but a party that happens to fall on the weekend of your Birthday. You don’t even know who’s hosting it.

All you know is that Bev and Richie would not leave you alone.

You’re not complaining, of course. Over the last year, there seemed to be some kind of spoken agreement amongst the eight of you that no one would mention how close the three of you were, or how often you touched each other or held each other.

You’re wearing a crop top and a skirt, and Bev seems to have not stop touching the sliver of skin on show with her warm, lithe fingers. Richie, on the other hand, seemed more intent with throwing an arm over your shoulder and talking into your hair every so often.

Honestly, you needed to breathe before you kissed the both of them in front of everyone at this damn party.

So, you do just that. You excuse yourself, to which Bev and Richie nod and join Bill and Mike in their awkward dancing, practically saving the two of them with their practiced moves. You sidle into the kitchen of whoever owns this house, your shoulders bumping with others, until you reach the drinks table and find Eddie, Stan and Ben debating about debating angrily about something.

‘-It’s obvious it’s gonna happen tonight-’

‘No way - Richie is the shitty tactical thinker, but Bev will wait until-’

You’re not sure you want to know what they’re talking about, so you walk on. You were already oddly nervous about something (you knew what - you knew there had been something bubbling beneath the surface that was getting ready to erupt), so you go to the drinks table, our yourself a cheap mixture of vodka and lemonade, and politely listen when some BO smelling burnout starts to mumble to you about something.

It’s only when you feel a messy kiss on your cheek that you realise maybe you should have been listening to whatever the fuck this guy was saying.

The thing is, he is yanked away from your before you can even tell him to piss off. He stumbles back with a swear and a, ‘stupid bitch’, to which Beverly fucking Marsh throws him the finger and turns to you, cheeks flushed with drink, and says, ‘You okay?’

You nod.

You’re speechless.

Gallant and brave Beverly Marsh had pushed some grabby guy away from you. Beautiful and amazing Beverly Marsh was looking at you with a shine in her eyes and an emotion you had been too stupid and too scared to read until now.

‘Come with me,’ you breathe suddenly, the pieces of years and years falling into place.

She follows you without restraint or protest, her heels clicking against the floor and her hand looping into yours as you both head upstairs. You don’t know where you’re going, so the first door you see, you kick open with the toe of your boot.

The moment you’re both in there, you stare at her. You stairs from her thick eyelashes, to her red lips, to the curve of her breast, and to the tips on her jeans. She says your name, soft and knowing, but you shake your head and cut her off.

You meet her gaze, and you both know. ‘How have you both been so patient?’ you ask with a slight laugh. ‘I’ve taken ages’.

Bev shrugs, easy and graceful. ‘It’s you. You’re worth it’.

You kiss her. It’s sudden and hard, and your hands find her red curls, and her fingers grab your waist, and you know there’s no going back from this. There’s not going back from her bruising lips or her steady hands, or the way her breath catches in your mouth as she chokes on a satisfied sound.

She tastes like cheap booze and Bev.

It doesn’t take long for her to take charge. You always knew it would be that way. She holds you like she knows you’re not fragile, and she sucks on your neck and mouth like they’re the tastiest treats she has ever tasted. Every pull on her hair makes a sound come from her mouth that send jolts to your abdomen, and when her fingers splay across your bare stomach, your pull away and breathe,

‘You’re beautiful’. And, she is. With flushed cheeks and red hair, Beverly Marsh is what you have dreamed of since you were just a kid. She grins, all teeth and red lips, and kisses your mouth like it’s a sweet peach.

When her hands draw up the lines of your thighs, beneath your skirt, you stutter on a breath and kiss her harder, bruising-

‘Christ’.

The voice is low. You has only heard it so low when he had woken from sleep, or when he’d taken too hard a pull of a joint. You realise Bev had pushed you against the wall of the sparse bedroom (guest room, maybe?) you had both taken up in, and that her hand was practically yanking aside your underwear.

‘Took you long enough,’ you mutter because, really, you knew he would be here when this finally happened. It was meant to be like that, for all of you.

Richie Tozier, with his drunk hair and dark eyes, looks at the both of you like he has seen the sun in all of it’s glory, and he does not know how to look at anything after this. He stands there for a moment, fingers flexing and Adam’s Apple bopping, before Bev holds out her hand (you want to whine as she drags her hand away from your underwear) and says, ‘C’mon, Rich’.

He does, but not before locking the door and muttering about how, ‘no fuckin’ pervs are gonna see you two other than me’.

Bev giggles against your neck when you reply, ‘So, you’re the perv?’

Richie, on the other hand, stays oddly silent for once, as he stands closer now and looks between the two of you, a rare show of nervousness cast across his features. When Bev holds him, her fingers curling around his bicep and pulling him closer, you waste no time in proppping the glasses up his nose, leaning across Bev, and kissing him soundly on the mouth.

Something within the three of you snaps, then.

It’s years of knowing and waiting for the right moment, and Bev and Richie say as much to you as your each touch each other, slow and unsure.The sound of the thumping music seems to die as Bev peppers kisses along your jaw and Richie runs his hand up Bev’s arm and kisses her there.

Richie’s shirt goes first, much to yours and Bev’s pleasure, to which he cocks a brow and declares, ‘Look, I know I’m hot, but don’t objectify me, ladies’.

It’s Bev who touches you first, and you feel oddly as if they are catering to your needs here. You’re lying in the middle of the bed with your skirt hiked up and her fingers curling beneath your underwear, her touch hesitant and her eyes bright as they look up at you. She’s bent over your lower half, and as Richie stands at the end of the bend, he looks like a man who has been blessed a billion times over.

She is like molten lava curling across your skin. No one has ever touched your there, so when her fingers dip into your wetness, you gasp and curl your fingers into the bedding of the bed, and Richie groans.

‘Rich,’ you murmur, opening your eyes to glance up at him. He moves like lightening, practically tripping over himself to round the bed and crawl over to kiss you hard and messily on the mouth. Bev hums and mutters a, ‘You two are gonna kill me-’

And then you feel her kissing her way into the inside of your thigh, and then she is tasting you.

It’s hard to say who is touching who after that. You come with Bev’s mouth on you, and Richie’s hand stuffed down his trousers as you kiss along his sharp jawline. When Bev sidles up the bed, flushed and wet-mouthed, you taste yourself on her lips and could cry at the wonderfulness of seeing her and Richie kiss.

‘I love you both,’ you tell them, as Bev kisses along your now bare spine and your reach down Richie’s open jeans. You all kneeling upon this strangers bed, your clothes slowly falling around you and your mouth bruised from kissing. ‘So much’.

When you touch him, he sighs and nuzzles into your and groans mutters things that only Trashmouth Tozier could mutter at such a time. You think of how long you’ve wanted this; them. You feel Bev’s whispers against your spin as she touches and kisses you and reaches over you to run her fingers through Richie’s dark hair, and Richie presses his mouth greedily to hers over your shoulders when your fingers squeeze just a little tighter around him.

‘Wanted you for so damn long,’ Richie breathes after he comes, the mess of it staining the sheets and your hand. ‘Both of us’.

You think he might have a small heart attack when Bev’s licks his cum off of your fingers as you splay them in front of you.

Richie kisses like he’s trying to taste you, like his every intent is to whisper a meaning between your lips. Bev kisses as if she is taking whatever you wish to share from you; like she is a notebook and you are the pen. You both taste Bev, only after Richie slips his fingers inside of you and Bev touches your chest like you’re precious cargo.

When Bev sighs and curls her toes at your tongue and Richie’s fingers, you all know something has changed deeply between the three of you.

You love them.

You held Bev tongue her shirt back on, and Richie ensures that your skirt is straight at the back. When you all turn to each other, messy and sweaty and stinking of sex, Richie says, ‘I know a say a lot of shit, but that was-’ There is something in his eyes that says this is the farthest thing from a joke he has ever told. ‘I mean-’

‘We know,’ you tell him, fingers linking with his.

Bev holds you other hand, her smile gleaming like the moon. ‘We’re together, then?’ she inquires, matter of fact and with no hesitance. ‘I think we’ve all waited long enough to say that’.

‘Hell fucking yeah’.

You sigh, smile, and say, ‘Beep beep, Richie’.

#richie x reader #richie tozier x reader #beverly marsh x reader #bev x reader #richie tozier x beverly marsh #it #it 2017 #it 2019 #areyoureddiekids #floralreddie

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fuckcanontbh · 5 years

Text

confessions in plain sight *stozier*

So this is for @ceftali in @stoziersecretsanta gift exchange! Sorry if this is late for you, but it is officially two hours into Christmas for me! This is my first time writing these characters so I apologize for any OOC-ness that happens. This is also my first contribution to the fandom, I hope you enjoy!

Note: bold lettering is Richie’s handwriting, words in [brackets] are actual song lyrics. Does contain swearing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun beat down on the group, water dripped from their hair, and despite everything huge smiles were on everyone's faces as Mike told a story from the farm. Today was the first day of summer, so all of their backpacks crowded the space as well. Soon enough the group would be dry enough to get dressed and hang out in the club house until dinner time.

"Look, all I'm saying is that half of the problems in horror movies could be fixed if the characters weren't such idiots. I mean, really? If you see the murderer, why would you scream so he sees you?" Eddie's voice was the only noise as the group headed down into the club house. "Y-yeah. But you have to t-th-think that it's for dramatic e-effect. The character's can't always have a s-s-satis-satisfying ending." The group's leader argued further with Eddie, the two of them continuing their debate in a corner of the clubhouse.

"You're actually going to be starting school with us next year, Mike? Maybe now you'll actually believe us on how crazy school can be! All the stories we've told you about Richie and Bev are true, and Richie told me he's got some crazy stuff planned for our senior year!" Ben's excited voice came from another side of the clubhouse, Mike and Bev sitting in front of him on bean bags the group had added when winter made the ground too cold and hard to sit on comfortably. Stan watched all of this happen and then his eyes fell on Richie, who was unusually quiet as he sat in the hammock, reaching into his bookbag for something. "What are you looking for?" Richie jumped at Stan's voice, but quickly pulled a comic out of his bag. "Nothing but the newest X-Men comic, Stanny my boy, you'll never believe the kind of shit Storm cooks up this time!" Stan peered down at Richie, but the boy's grin seemed genuine so he shrugged and sat down, looking over Richie's shoulder. ~ "Alright, we'll see you tomorrow! Meeting at my house at four, right?" Beverly had already made her way up the ladder, but Ben was still waiting for an answer from Richie and Stan. "Haystack, you know I'll be there. Can't let your mom miss me too much!" Stan's hand reached out to smack Richie before he could stop it. "Tell everyone Richie has been uninvited." Ben simply laughed at their antics and shook his head as he climbed out into the little bit of sunlight left.

"We should probably head out soon, did you want to come over for dinner?" The blonde stood and brushed imaginary dust off his shirt and khakis. "Uh, hell yeah! Mrs. Uris makes the best food around here! Don't tell Ben I said that, his mom's cookies are good as hell." "Yeah, yeah. C'mon Trashmouth, I think mom is making meatballs and spaghetti squash." ~ Stan's house had been Richie Tozier free for about thirty minutes when Stan noticed Richie had left his bookbag next to his bed in his haste for dinner. The zipper was mostly undone and everything was one trip away from being all over Stan's floor. The boy rolled his eyes and bent down to zip it up when a small notebook caught his eyes. The book itself was simple on the outside, but it looked like a bunch of random things were also stuck into the book, making it thicker than it needed to be. It also looked like it was almost full, a slim part of the back of the notebook was still flat.

"Just leave it alone, Stan, it's none of your business." The boy brushed his teeth and put on his matching blue and white striped pajamas before climbing into bed. Minutes seemed to drag on forever before Stan stopped fighting himself and turned on his lamp before he grabbed the notebook. "It's probably just some dumb jokes Richie's thought of...or maybe some songs he's working on?" ~ 'Science HW due Thurs 28th' 'hang out after school @ quarry' '[Somewhere I'd never ever known, right at the back of my head, it hit me like a flashlight lighthouse beam of light]' ~ "Seems like it's just somewhere for him to put all his thoughts. Wonder who the song's about..." With the idea that the book was just a glance at Richie's mind as it worked a mile a minute, Stan continued reading. ~ 'Bev is the best!! girl offered me smokes even after i had to convince her skipping mrs. hepburns class was a good idea.' 'FUCK BOWERS' 'Math HW due Tues 4th' '[Cause you talk to me and it goes over my head...]' 'operation: get haystack the girl of his dreams walk her to class!! maybe walk her home sometimes? don't offer too much help bc bev hates that! write more of his sappy poems' 'gotta stop with the your mom jokes, not funny anymore' 'why is history so boring? REMINDER: ask ben to explain' 'start saving money-no more big spending at the arcade' ~ Stan scoffed at the thought of the curly haired boy giving up his favorite past time. "What's he even need to save money for anyway? He's already gotten that truck of his." ~ 'work @ 12-9 sat, sun and @ 5-12 mon, wed, fri' 'do i have an "it" factor? don't wanna miss out on making my mark on the world.' 'i don't even think he knows he does it. soft little smile on his face when he gets to a difficult problem, who does he think he is???' 'ma and dad fought all last night again. big bill asked what was up but i didn't want to talk about it. comedy is a good distraction' 'work @ 12-9 sat, sun and @ 5-12 mon, tues, wed, fri' 'glad i saved up some money, had to buy groceries again. ma's getting real bad again. haven't seen dad in a few days.' 'can't believe i got lucky enough to have such good friends. billy invited us all over for a horror movie marathon, ben and bev were put in charge of snacks. seems operation: get haystack the girl of his dreams is in motion. good for him! now if only i could get bill, mike, eddie, and stan lovers...' '[you've been on my mind boy girl since the flood]' 'ma passed out on the couch last night, guess it's a good thing i'm a lot bigger now. carried her to bed then went for a drive.' 'i swear he gets prettier the more i look at him' 'haystack just told me he scored a date!!!' 'HW due wed 18th' 'dad came home last night. got a good earful from him. maybe i should just stop talking? not like i got the nickname 'trashmouth' for something good. wonder if anyone would even notice' 'taught myself how to make chicken alfredo, actually got ma to eat with me.' 'i think i'm gonna tell him' 'nope. not gonna tell him. there's no way it would end good. out of all of our friends he's the least likely to want me' 'they say it is better to have loved and lost than never to love at all. but then it's 2 am and all you can think about is him, and you know he isn't thinking about you' ~ Stan snapped the book shut and quickly shoved it back into Richie's bag, thoughts flooding his mind. "Who is this boy Richie is crushing on? Is it Eddie? Eddie does yell at him a lot...and they have a bunch of classes together." "I didn't know things had gotten so bad at home. Mrs. Tozier used to be a saint.." "Is Richie okay?" He couldn't pin point why, but as he clicked his lamp off, Stan's chest hurt, but before a tear could escape his eyes he rolled over and pulled his covers up to his chin. ~ "Hey Rich, you left this at my house last night." Stan held the bag in-between them, his eyes refusing to meet Richie's, his chest still tight like the night before. "Stan the Man! My savior, got some important goods in here!" The blonde's eyebrows raised, finally looking at Richie's face just for the boy to look away quickly. "Can't lose my comic so soon now can I?"

"My mom made cookies!!" Ben walked into the living room, plate piled with chocolate chip cookies in his hands. "Ben Handsome, you are nothing if not the son of a saint, if you know what I mean." Richie dived for the plate, one cookie already in his mouth and three in his hands.

"Beep, beep, Richie!" Eddie scoffed and bumped the boy's shoulder, taking one cookie from Ben's plate. Stan watched as Richie's shoulders deflated, and the brunet ate his second cookie much slower. Before he could say anything Mike and Beverly's voices took everyone's attention towards the TV.

"We're not doing more horror movies, we did that like two weeks ago!" Beverly was swatting at the movies in Mike's hands, trying to reach across him to put her VHS into the VCR player. "She's not w-wr-wrong Mike. Let's just do the Disney marathon." At Bill's words Mike sighed and gave in, backing away from the TV so suddenly that Beverly fell forward slightly.

"Did you see that foul play my good man? Foul play I say!" Richie nudged Bill just to be shrugged off as the boy grabbed a cookie and moved to sit on the couch. ~ "I think I'm gonna go ahead and head home you guys. I'm getting one of those notorious Tozier headaches." Richie stood behind the couch as the credits to Bambi played, bookbag slung over his shoulder. "Yeah, yeah, bye Richie." "See ya, Trashmouth." "I think I'm gonna head out too, gotta help my mom clean up a bit before my aunt stays with us." "Dang, bye Stan." "Have fun with that Stan!" ~ "Hey Rich, think you can give me a ride?" The boy nodded and started his truck, hurriedly throwing a couple things behind the bench seat of his truck.

"Only the best for a prince, amiright?" If Stan didn't know better he'd say Richie's ears had gone a little pink. His truck started and he pulled out of Ben's driveway onto the road.

"Are you actually getting a headache Richie? Cause if not, I wanna talk.." His hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter but Richie put on a smile and glanced at Stan.

"Always knew you could see through me. Don't know if we can have this conversation without your mother though, she wanted to be the one to break the news."

"Oh shut up asshole." Despite his words Stan felt himself smiling as Richie snickered.

"I just want to say I'm sorry first. Because I shouldn't have pried. But I thought it was just gonna be stupid stuff. Maybe some black mail material."

"Wait, you read my fucking journal? Stanley that's fucked dude! I would never do that to you. I can't believe you went through my bag. Guess straight cut Stan isn't as honest a man as I thought. Dude, what is your problem?"

A red light had stopped them, and Richie was able to look at Stan in the eye now, his brown eyes angry, but also coming off as slightly panicked.

"Look, I really didn't mean to get into your heavy shit. I thought it was just gonna be full of those little doodles you do in class and some new song lyrics. I didn't read too much of it Just a couple pages, maybe three tops! It's just got me worried about you."

"What did you read Stanley? Worried I'm sick? I can't really say I'm surprised." Brown eyes rolled and he clicked his tongue as he pulled forward.

"Sick? What- no. I'm worried about your mom and dad."

"You know that's none of your fucking business. We're just fine at the Tozier residence. Nothing has changed, Went works all the time and Ma takes care of the house. Don't start talking like you know anything about them. Get out of my car, Uris."

"Rich-"

"No, I said I'd give you a ride home, and here we are. The Uris residence. Go help your mom clean up and figure out how to stay out of other people's business."

Stan sighed and hung his head as he got out of the truck, only turning his head towards the street when Richie sped off, a cloud of smoke following him. ~ "Beverly, I really messed up the other day." "Sweetheart, Richie is known for the theatrics, don't let it get you down." "Yeah, Stan, that boy is like a rubber ball, he'll bounce back."

A shaky hand worked it's way through blonde curls, brown eyes bounced around the room, landing on Bev sitting in the window smoking, the radio sitting next to her turned down quiet enough for them to talk over, and Mike sitting criss cross on the bed.

"Stan, what even happened? I have never seen you this worried over some little fight with Richie."

"Look, I know it was wrong, but I accidentally read his very personal journal." Stan cringed as he said the words, already feeling Mike's eyes on him when Beverly whipped her head in his direction.

"How do you accidentally read someone's journal man?" "What did you read Stan?

Mike and Bev spoke at the same time, and Bev's cigarette was out before Stan could explain.

"Look, he's just got some shit going on at home, and he doesn't want to bother us with it...andIthinkhemighthaveacrushonEddie." "What was that last part?" "I think he mighthaveacrushonEddie." "Stan, breathe sweetheart we aren't gonna yell at you." "I think he might have a crush on Eddie and I'm not sure why I'm upset about it."

Mike and Bev shared a knowing look over Stan's down tilt head, Bev's eyebrows raised in a silent question that Mike answered with a nod.

"You may be one of the smartest most oblivious person I've met Stanley Uris." "You've had that boy wrapped around your finger since you became friends in second grade." "Guess you just didn't realize he had you around his finger as well."

Mike's words stung at first, but when Beverly pointed out who Richie's crush was, Stan's face lit up like a light. His cheeks dusted with pink as he met their eyes.

"You're being serious. Fuck, now I've really messed up. He thinks I hate him!" ~ "This is such a bad fucking idea. He hates you right now Stan." With a sigh the boy threw the first stone at the second floor window. It took three stones for Richie Tozier to open his window, and only one glance to see Stan before he was retreating again.

"Wait, Richie! Please, I just want to talk. Can we go for a ride?" Stan watched with bated breath as the shadow at the window hovered another moment before it retreated.

"Called that one."

And then Richie was climbing down the siding of his house.

"Be careful! Why didn't you use the front door dumbass?" All Stan got in response was an eye roll and a thumb pointing to the car in the drive way, Went was home.

"Oh." "Yeah, oh. Let's go. Been itching to go somewhere anyway." ~ The only sound in the truck was the two boys' breathing and a soft static from the radio. Stan swallowed air and watched as they passed the movie theatre.

"Look, I really am sorry. I just want you to talk to us more. You're acting like some shitty parenting is where we draw the line, have you completely forgotten that fucking clown?"

"I know. Sorry for being a brat the other day. I just don't like people to see that stuff, I have a reputation ya know? Comedian first, dumbass second, and softie never." Richie turned left, leading to the outskirts of town.

"Yeah, wouldn't want to ruin this perfect "class clown" persona you've got going on."

"Stanley Uris, did you just use air quotes to describe my entire personality to me?"

A chuckle escaped Richie and the truck air suddenly felt much lighter. "You're a lot more than that you know. You're more than some shitty but perfect timed your mom jokes. We keep you around for a lot more than a laugh." "What else am I good at Stan? All I do is mouth off and tell bad jokes." Brown curls came down from Richie's bun as he shook his head, leading the two of them past a sign asking visitors to come back to Derry.

"They may be bad jokes, but they still make us laugh. You're always the first one to put aside time for any of us, all we have to do is ask. And- stop shaking your head. Who took the time when we were all younger to listen to Eddie explain which of his inhalers were for what and how to administer them? Who learned how to cut hair just to help Bev save money and keep it trimmed? Who helped Mike shear the sheep when Spring started just so he could hang out with us sooner? Who practiced endless tongue twister with Bill to help with his stutter? Who did all that? Richie Tozier did. You give us everything and never expect anything back. All I wanna do is give back. God knows you deserve it."

"Hey now, don't bring the big man into this conversation." Despite the levity of what he was saying, Stan could hear the tears on the other boy's voice.

"I didn't mean to make you cry. You just have such a big heart, and I think sometimes you don't know what to do with it...I saw the notes about a boy. You know we wouldn't judge you for that! Shit, none of us batted an eye when Big Bill came out as bisexual, so why would we care. You deserve to be happy, Rich. I just want you to be happy."

The more he spoke, the quieter Stan's voice became and the louder his blood rushed in his ears. Silence enveloped the truck again, and soon the tires came to a stop over a patch of grass.

"Did you mean all of that?"

Richie Tozier was not a small boy anymore, he was all long limbs of 6'2, and had developed a jawline sharp enough to cut a man, but right now, in the dim light of his dashboard, swallowed by a grey hoodie and hunched over, Richie Tozier reminded Stan of that scared boy in the sewers.

"Every last word. And I think you should know that a little birdie told me that I might be the inspiration for some of those lovely lyrics in your book..." Glasses nearly flew off Richie's face with how quickly he shot his head up, worried brown eyes magnified by the lenses.

"Bev, that bitch."

"I wouldn't say that quite yet. She pointed something else out to me too. She said I've had you wrapped around my finger since we met in second grade, but she also said that you've had me wrapped around your finger for a while now too. And I've got to say, she's right. Can't believe she knows me better than both of us. But yeah, Rich, you've had me wrapped around your finger since you told my mom at age six that she had better get used to you because you'd be around for a while."

Richie put the truck in park, unbuckled and shifted to be more in the middle of the truck, and the yellow of the radio highlighted the pink on his cheeks perfectly. "Stan...I don't really know what to say. Still can't believe she ratted me out like that."

"Say you're gonna let us in more. Say she was right. Say you want to give this a shot.”

"I want to give this a shot. I'm pretty sure I've been in love with you since we were twelve." A warm hand gently took Stan's as he spoke, squeezing gently before he scooted just a bit closer.

"Slow down there Tozier, I've only just opened my eyes to the fact that you might be it for me, let me catch up before we start tossing the L word around. Buy me dinner first at least."

A genuine chuckle and Richie moved back to his seat, his hand still in Stan's. "How bout a late dinner at-", brown eyes glanced at the clock,"-nearly one a.m?" "Lead the way, Tozier. I'll be right with you."

#stozier #it #secret santa #this is my first contribution to the fandom #im so nervous rn #send help #thanks

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talesfromthesnogbox · 5 years

Text

Big (Trash) Mouth

Summary: Richie Tozier is an already overall awkward human being, the absolute last thing he needed was an untimely visit from Maury, his hormone monster.The Big Mouth x It (2017) crossover I apparently needed but couldn't find.

Word Count: 4164

Notes: Soooooo yeah, I posted something on tumblr a little while ago about how I needed this crossover and nobody took the bait so I took it myself. I've never written for It or for Big Mouth, so I'm sure this is all wildly out of character, but whatever, it sparked joy. It was... interesting attempting to write this and not say a lot of the things I knew Richie would say, but I didn't want to go there being in my mid 20's and writing 15 year olds. So yeah. Enjoy?

P.S. I totally headcanon Maggie and Went Tozier to be EXACTLY like Mr and Mrs Birch if you’ve seen Big Mouth, so I wrote them that way.

ao3 link

~~~*~~~

Big Trash Mouth

“Late bloomer”. It’s something Richie had heard his whole life.

Late to start talking, walking, late to potty train, and now…

“Bill, when the hell did you decide to grow a mustache?”

Richie rolled his eyes as his friends fawned over how masculine it made him look. Their voices all deeper, bodies filling out the way they should be. He was fourteen and still gangly as ever, the only thing that had changed with Richie was his height. He now towered over his friends, but still had the awkward squeaky voice. His cheeks were still filled with baby fat, and he walked like a newborn giraffe.

All he wished for was to grow up, like his friends were. He talked the big talk, but in reality, Richie was a scared little boy. His heart thudded in his chest when he thought about what his first kiss would be like. Sure, Bill and Bev were really the only two losers who swapped spit on the regular, but Stan had kissed a girl from camp, and Mike had been actively pursuing one of the girls in their year at school after they’d kissed at a birthday party in a round of truth or dare. Eddie always blushed and told them to fuck off whenever he was asked, which left Richie and Ben as the last two losers.

Ben was a romantic, he wanted it to be special, which Richie always fake gagged at before running his mouth about the love of his life, Mrs. K. It was easier to make a joke about it than face up to what he was really thinking about…

It wasn’t that Richie couldn’t see himself settling down one day, or having a crazy whirlwind romance. He was just young, he wasn’t thinking about it. All he wanted was to be with Eddie.

He’d deny it to anyone who asked if he had a crush on Eddie (even to himself). It wasn’t a crush, Eddie was his best friend of all the losers. He knew what they had was special, and he wanted to grow old with him… and be like, best friends forever, ya know?

Nevertheless, Richie would shake off the feeling. He’d shaken it off at twelve, and he was still shaking it off at fifteen… for a little while at least.

It was hot that night, he’d been reading one of his dad’s old Batman comics, and he realized Batman and Robin were a little close for just friends.

“Ha, totally gay.” He’d muttered, trying to ignore the feeling of his heart beating wildly at the thought. Unlike most of his friends, he didn’t see the appeal to characters like Catwoman. She was sexy, sure, but he didn’t feel the attraction to her. But Batman…

A shiver ran through Richie, and suddenly, a rumble came from his closet. He jumped, terrified that the fucking clown might be back again.

“H-hello?” Richie whispered, praying there wouldn’t be an answer. After a moment of silence, he turned back to Batman. The story became lost on Richie, he stopped focusing on what was happening, and continued to zone in on Batman’s well-sculpted body; and then the rattling started again. “Fuck, hello? Eds, did you follow me home again?”

The closet door opened and a dark figure walked out; a big ugly monster, covered in hair revealed himself in the light. “Who the fuck is Eds?”

Richie shouted as the thing came closer. He slapped himself across the face, attempting to wake himself from whatever nightmare he was in, but he wasn’t waking up.

“What’re you doing kid? With the whole… slapping thing?”

“What the fuck are you?” Richie shouted again, adjusting his glasses and scrambling further up his bed.

“Oh, me? I’m Maury! I’m your hormone monster!”

“My what?”

“Your hormone monster! Congrats kid, you’re a man now.” Richie looked at him, confused and a little horrified of the physical monster that had manifested in front of him. “Look Rich, you’re reading a dirty magazine or some shit, your mind wandered for a bit, badda bing badda boom, here I am. So why don’t you… how did you put it… tickle your pickle and call it an evening?”

“What the fuck.”

“What, are you not looking at your dad’s Playboys?” Richie stared at the thing… Maury… in horror for a moment. “No, I’m reading a Batman comic.”

“Odd flex, but okay, I can work with that. Chicks dig a man in a spandex suit, I bet he gets so much pussy.”

~~~*~~~

Richie had barely slept that night. Maury kept him awake, flooding his mind with confusing thoughts and images.

“Wow Rich, you look horrible.”

“Thanks asshole, not looking too shabby yourself.” He snapped back at Stan as they reached the quarry together. He was not in the mood today.

Hanging out at the quarry today instead of the clubhouse turned out to be a blessing and a curse. The cold water woke him up instantly, and soon enough, Richie was back to being the trashmouth they all knew and loved. But shortly after jumping in, Eddie arrived.

Richie’s heart thudded, and a weak smile broke across his face as Eddie dropped his bike, waving to his friends. Then… his clothes started coming off.

“Ohhhh, shit man, I see how it is, that’s Eds.”

He jumped. “Fuck’s sake, you scared the shit outta me.” Maury had appeared out of nowhere, and it put Richie right back into his bad mood.

“Yeah man, who knew short, angry and hypochondriac would be the one to get your motor running. I thought for sure it’d be the tall, leggy redhead.”

“Shut up, Eds does not get my motor running. He’s my best friend.”

“Oh yeah? Tell that to your dick.”

“What? FUCK.” Sure enough, Richie felt the same unfamiliar stirring he’d started feeling the night before low in his belly. He sunk lower in the water, covering his shoulders, moving as far away from his friends as he could.

“Hey Richie!” Eddie yelled. “Get over here, I need a partner for chicken.”

“Oh yeah, chicken is a fave. Think about it Richie, Eddie sitting on your shoulders, it would be so easy to just turn him around and bury your face—”

“FUCK OFF MAURY. I GET IT.”

“Well you obviously don’t. That problem in your pants wasn’t a problem until he showed up.”

“Oh my god, OKAY. I’m attracted to dudes.” Richie hung his head low, his face burning.

“And…”

“And what? I said what I said.”

“Come on man, it goes deeper than that. You’ve had four other dudes in their tighty-whities feet away from you literally all afternoon and you waited till Spaghetti man showed up to pop a boner.”

Richie frowned. “Um, you’re the hormone monster, none of that was my decision apparently.”

“No, but the gay thoughts you’ve been having about Eddie were all yours.”

Before that day, Richie would have denied it until his face turned blue, but finally, he had to come clean with himself.

“Fine, fine. I’m attracted to Eddie; I have gay thoughts about my best friend. I… I l—I like Eddie.”

“Atta boy! Now go tackle him and pretend your hand slipped when you touch his butt.”

~~~*~~~

“Hey Richie, why were you being so weird earlier today?”

Richie spluttered. Bev had always been forward, calling him out on his bullshit, but he didn’t expect that she’d call him out on it today. The two of them had become close. Richie’s mom adored Bev, she was always welcome at the Tozier house for dinner, a sleepover, whatever she needed. He never questioned why his mom let him have a girl sleep over all the time, but now he supposed she had an inkling that he might not think about girls that way.

He leaned back against his headboard and looked straight ahead.

“I… um…”

“I thought it might be the boner you popped when you saw Eddie strip down, but you were quiet all afternoon.”

Richie felt his face pale. “You… what?”

She laughed. “Stan pointed it out, Mike begged us not to say anything after the sleepover incident.”

“Fuck, well that’s embarrassing. I feel like I’ve lost control, my hormones are like a fucking monster, always there, just waiting to attack.” Richie sounds crazy in his own ears.

“Is it weird that I understand?” Richie looks at her curiously. “Sometimes I just… I just feel so angry, I want to scream and cry, but then…” she shakes her head, “Bill comes in and just… he makes it all better. But then it’s hard to control myself there too.”

“Oooh, Bevvie, you gonna spill all the dirty deets about Big Bill?”

She giggles. “Shut up, asshole. You gonna spill the beans on why you popped a boner at the quarry?”

“I think I have a crush on Eddie.” Richie’s surprised to hear it come out of his own mouth, let alone with another person in the room.

“Yeah dipshit, tell me something I don’t know.”

“Wait, what?” Maury popped up in the corner of Richie’s eye as they spoke it together. “Dude, what the fuck, how’d she find out before you did?”

“You two aren’t exactly subtle you know. We’ve been placing bets on when it would finally come out forever.”

“But… but Bev, neither of us… I didn’t even tell you I was gay. I didn’t even really admit it until very recently.” He paused. “Oh yeah, I’m gay by the way, you’re… you’re the first of the losers to know.”

She looks down at her feet, embarrassed by her own outburst. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… thank you for telling me Rich, I’m proud of you for coming out.”

“Thanks Bevvie.” He opened up as she leaned into him.

“It’s just… you and Eddie have something different, something special between you two.”

“Yeah, but… just because he likes guys too, doesn’t mean he’s into me.” Richie pouted.

Bev turns to look at him. “Richard.” She deadpans.

“What?”

“Eddie’s been flirting with you since we were fucking thirteen.”

“Um, he’s been bitching at me since we were fucking thirteen is I think what you meant to say.”

“No, flirting. He’s been pulling your metaphorical pigtails. And the shorts, he literally only wears them when you’re around because you always comment on them.”

“What? Richard, you never told me there were shorts involved.” Maury popped up. “I demand to see the shorts, take me to the shorts!”

Richie rolled his eyes, his heart thudding in his chest. Could Eddie like him back? “That still doesn’t mean anything, Bev.”

“That means everything, Rich.”

“Yeah Rich, that means everything! I think Eddie likes you man. Maybe try sticking your tongue down his throat, it’ll be like a fun little experiment to see for sure.”

He ignored Maury, still turning red at the thought.

Beverly smirked. “You’re imagining sticking your tongue down his throat, aren’t you?”

Maury raised his eyebrows. “Wow, she’s good.”

He shoved her, a smile cracking on his face. “Shut up.”

“Never.” Bev composed herself and leaned back into Richie. “I think you should tell him.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

Richie shook his head. “I-I can’t. He’d never—”

“I literally just told you he’s been flirting with you for years. Spit it out Richie, it’ll feel good once you do. Plus, boyfriend.”

“No, but he’s my best friend. What if I fuck it all up and he never wants to see me again? Or worse, what if we do end up dating, and I hurt him? I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt him. I just want him to be happy.”

“He’d be a lot happier if he were with you Richie.” Beverly reached up and stroked the hair away from his forehead.

“Okay, maybe so. But maybe I’m just not ready to come all the way out yet.”

She smiled. “That’s okay too.”

~~~*~~~

Months went by, and Maury continued to torture Richie to no end. He somehow sprouted up even taller, his voice got even lower, and suddenly he was just… hairy.

Richie had grown up a lot, but not just physically.

He was still Richie Trashmouth Tozier, but in much smaller doses than he had been before. He almost stopped relying on dirty jokes and made genuinely funny remarks, he stopped trying to take the spotlight, and opened up to, and listened to his friends in return. Richie had become almost civilized.

He’d come out to his parents; they were every bit as loving and supportive as they’d always been, sometimes overly supportive.

“You know sweetheart, my friend from work has a nephew in the next town over who’s gay, maybe we should set you two up.” His mom would say.

“Richie, you should really think about cleaning up the hair on your face, at least until you can grow a proper beard. Your mother has told me scratchy kisses are unpleasant, and you don’t want some nice boy to think you give scratchy kisses.” His dad would lament.

Richie’s parents were a lot, but he was grateful that they cared.

“For god’s sake man, why did your dad cry teaching you how to shave your face?” Maury said, rolling his eyes.

“Because he doesn’t know how to deal with the fact that I’m growing up and I won’t be his baby anymore.”

“Geez, that’s bleak.”

Richie and Maury’s attention was drawn to the window as he heard a gentle clink. They approached carefully, only to find Eddie at the base of his house looking up.

“Well well well, would you look at that. Just saw him this afternoon, but little Eds came back for some of that sweet Trashmouth lovin I see.” Maury waggled his eyebrows. “OH! And he wore the shorts. The SHORTS Richie!”

“Shut the fuck up.” Richie opened his window. “Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?” He called down to Eddie.

“Really not in the fucking mood right now, Trashmouth.” He sounded broken, small. There was anger and hurt layered under his displeasure to Richie’s usual antics. “I—I don’t think I’ll be able to climb up. But…”

“Say no more Spaghetti. Come around to the front, my parents are in the kitchen, I’ll sneak you in.”

Richie raced to the front door as quickly and quietly as he could. When he saw Eddie’s broken expression, he immediately brought him in for a hug.

“I’m okay.” Eddie repeated, but he didn’t look okay.

“Come upstairs, we just have to get past Maggie and Went.”

They tiptoed into the house, but Maggie Tozier was like a bloodhound. “Richie, is that Bev with you? Oh, hi Eddie, what a nice surprise.” She smiled as she turned the corner and spotted the two boys.

Eddie smiled. “Hi Mrs. Tozier. Sorry to interrupt your evening, I won’t stay long.”

“Nonsense, stay as long as you’d like. Can I get you boys anything, a snack? Something to drink?” Maggie smiled, sensing something was wrong. “Eddie, is everything okay?”

Eddie smiled but shook his head. “It’s complicated.” He shrugged, but Maggie’s eyes were kind, encouraging him to share. “I… it’s my mom… she’s been even more overbearing since I came out to her and we got in a fight. I just needed some air. I think I should have just kept it to myself and not told her I’m gay.”

Maggie rushed over, and Went popped his head into view. “Oh honey thank you for telling me. Never feel ashamed to be who you are.” She pulled him into a hug, Went rushing over to join them. “Well if you ever need some extended time away, there’s more than enough room for you here.”

“Thanks Mrs. T.”

“Wow man, this is all pretty gay.” Maury snuck in. “Ha, get it, gay? Cause we’re like totally gay and sharing feelings ‘n shit? Yeah, that’s some good shit.”

Richie rolled his eyes at the hormone monster, and touched Eddie’s shoulder lightly. “Love the whole Full House heart to heart thing that’s going on, but I think Eddie came over to take his mind off it all. Wanna go upstairs and play on the Super Nintendo?”

Eddie smiled and nodded, following the other boy into his room.

“Went, did you know Eddie was gay?” Maggie asked her husband quietly.

“I had an inkling. I think something very beautiful is happening with our son and his best friend right under our noses.”

Maggie frowned. “Just because they’re both gay—”

He shook his head. “No, no. They’ve had something special from the beginning, my sweet. I think it’s just the natural progression of their relationship.” Went kissed his wife’s cheek, and went back to their cleaning.

~~~*~~~

In the hours that had passed, Richie successfully took Eddie’s mind off his mother. The two teens laughed as they played Street Fighter, shoveling popcorn that Maggie had brought up into their smiling mouths.

It was Friday, so Eddie didn’t feel bad about drifting off in Richie’s bed shortly after they’d both collapsed in it, comic books sprawled at their feet.

Richie looked on as Eddie peacefully slept beside him. His features were soft, boyish still, but a hint of developing masculinity lay beneath the baby fat that remained. He removed his glasses and flipped off his lamp, settling into his normal sleeping position when Eddie snuggled in against his side.

Fuck.

“Oh shit, Richie, I don’t think Eddie’s asleep.” Maury once again made an appearance.

“What the fuck are you talking about, he’s totally asleep. Maury, what do I do?”

“Um… um… do you think he’d mind if you—”

“YES. Yes he would absolutely mind if I just whipped my dick out in the middle of our sleepover Maury.”

“Richie…” His head turned to the boy in his arms who was obviously very much not asleep. “I can hear you thinking. Shut the fuck up and hold me.”

“You heard the man Richard, he wants to be held, hold him!”

Richie moved hesitantly, gaining confidence as Eddie snuggled in closer to him. He could feel his friend’s breath lightly hitting his neck, getting closer and closer as he searched for that perfectly comfortable sweet spot in Richie’s arms. Eddie’s lips lightly grazed his neck, and suddenly Richie bolted upright, feeling the familiar tension stir in his gut.

“Richie?” Eddie sat up sleepily, eyes boring into the side of Richie’s face.

“Why the fuck would you move! If you would have waited a few more minutes, sweet, sweet magic could have happened!” Maury whined, dragging a hairy hand down his face.

“I—I’m sorry Eddie, I just… gotta save some lovin for your mom, am I right?”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I-is it weird, being like this together now, because I’m gay?” They had indeed had sleepovers before where Richie had woken up with Eddie curled around him, but it had never bothered him until Maury showed up.

“N-no, no, that’s not it. I’m gay too, asshole.”

Eddie got up, walking towards Richie hesitantly. “Then why…” and then in the moonlight, he caught a glimpse of why. “Oh my god, classic Trashmouth. It’s like the quarry all over again. You really can’t control that thing can you?” He joked.

Richie had no witty response for him. He was silent for a moment, letting his own embarrassment wash over him. “I’m sorry Eddie.”

Eddie frowned. “For what? We’re teenage boys, that shit happens like all the time in our sleep.”

“Eddie, I… I wasn’t sleeping.”

Maury’s eyes shot open. “Richie why the fuck would you do that, he’s gonna think you’re some sort of pervert! Not that I wouldn’t love you any less if you were some sort of pervert, believe me, I could tell you stories about some of the other kids I’ve been assigned to.”

“Maury, just… just shut up, please.”

“What do you mean you weren’t sleeping? Richie, we’ve been asleep for—”

Richie shook his head. “You’ve been asleep for hours, I… I couldn’t sleep. Too many thoughts of Mrs. K running through—”

“Richie please, you literally just said you were gay.” The two were silent for a moment. Eddie looked at him hesitantly and nodded. “Okay. Does this happen with—”

“No.” Richie closed his eyes and collapsed back on his bed, willing the horribly timed problem to go away. “No, Eddie, just you.” He let out a groan of frustration.

Maury stood behind Eddie, unable to read his expression. “Shit man, I think you have to tell him how you feel now.”

“I’m sorry Eds, I never meant for you to find out like this… I never meant for you to find out at all.”

“What the fuck are you going on about Richie?”

Richie sat up and looked Eddie in the eye. “Eds… Eds you don’t get it?”

Eddie spluttered. “N-not really! I have no fucking clue what you’re trying to say right now. All I can tell from this conversation is that you’re gay and still apparently fucking my mother, and you popped a boner from lying beside me. I’m not a fucking mind-reader man, I’ve got no idea what—”

Richie’s lips gently touching Eddie’s cut off his rant. The kiss only lasted a second, but it left the two teens breathless.

“O-oh.” Eddie’s eyebrows were in his hairline, and Richie couldn’t believe what he’d just done.

“Holy fucking shit kid, you fucking did it.”

The tension in the room could be cut with a knife. Neither boy wanted to speak first, neither wanted to look into the other’s eyes. Richie was beyond embarrassed, and he couldn’t help but feel like he’d maybe lost a friend.

“Fucking hell Eddie, even your mother is more talkative in bed.” He laughed nervously, adjusting his glasses.

“Shit man, he’s not saying anything. Whip it out, whip your dick out! Stun the motherfucker into saying something!” Maury yelled and jumped about.

“Richie… we were having a moment, why the fuck would you bring my mother into this again?”

Richie’s eyes went wide. “We… we were? I kinda thought you were going to jump out my window to be honest.”

“No, no! That… that was… good! I mean, I liked it.”

“You did?”

Eddie shoved Richie lightly. “Yes, dumbass, I did. I just don’t really know how to do this whole…” He pointed between the two of them.

“This whole what?”

“You know… um… crush… thing.”

“Crush!” Maury looked between the two boys and collapsed.

“Wait, you have a crush on me?” Richie pushed his hand through his hair.

“Yes asshole, why do you think I always try to partner with you in chicken? And sit beside you whenever we’re with the rest of the losers? I’ve had a crush on you for like… I dunno… like a really long time. And I kind of thought you did too. But now I’m wondering if maybe you just wanted another gay boy to I dunno, experiment with. Fuck, I’m an idiot.”

“No! No, Eds, me too, I feel that way too. The crush I mean.” Richie smiled and took the smaller boy’s hand in his. “I’m sorry I’ve been an asshole, and I’m sorry about…” he waved his free hand over his crotch. “I just… it’s like… uncontrollable. And like… your butt just looks really good in those shorts.”

“Beep beep trashmouth.” Eddie giggled. “I get it. I mean, I don’t, my dick isn’t trying to sabotage me, but it did at one point, and that sucked.”

Richie looked over to Maury accusingly. “Yeah, it does suck.” He shook his head and looked at Eddie. “So what do we do now?”

“Well I like you, and you like me, we could always… um I mean… you could be my boyfriend?”

Richie fake gasped. “Mamma dear!” He said in a southern belle accent. “This here boy wants to be my boyfriend!”

Maury shook his head. “Yeah man, maybe don’t do that.” But Eddie was giggling like a schoolgirl, eating Richie’s performance up. “Okay, wait, maybe you’re onto something. He likes it, keep doing it.”

Eddie shoved Richie again, knocking him down onto the bed, but tumbling after him. “Shut up asshole.”

“That’s asshole boyfriend to you, boyfriend.”

He blushed adorably. “Okay, asshole boyfriend.” Richie noticed Eddie’s gaze travelling between his eyes and his lips. Before he could stop himself, he leaned forwards, and kissed him again, this time longer, with more pressure.

Eddie’s breath hitched; it was perfect. Perfect until…

“Boys? Shouldn’t you be—oh!”

Richie pulled away from Eddie, and jolted back up again. “Mom!” He shouted. “This is why you need to knock!”

“Sorry sweetie, I’ll just… I’m gonna leave the door open a bit for you. We’re talking about this tomorrow. Goodnight boys, sleep tight! Make good choices!”

Maggie wandered back into her room, giggling as she crawled back into bed beside her husband.

“You may have been onto something with those two Wentworth.”

“See Mags, I told you. Something beautiful is happening.”

#reddie #reddie fic #richie x eddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrack #maury the hormone monster #It big mouth au #my writing

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scoopsohboy · 5 years

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I Got You Babe || Platonic Richie x Beverly

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing fanfiction in YEARS and my first time ever writing “It” fanfiction. I have a BIG series in mind based in the universe of this fic but, I knew I needed to get this piece written down first. This whole series is inspired by this moodboard post created by asthmaticeddie. Go check it out, Kay is so talented and lovely! My fic would likely be Eddie POV, so I would never get to actually write this scene! So I’m doing it anyway!

Summary: Richie gets into a fight at a party. Bev has to pick up the pieces.

Warnings: Mentions of violence, blood and spit, slight internalized homophobia. Angst that becomes fluff.

Word Count: 1508

Richie had fucked up.

That much was painfully obvious to on-lookers who watched Bev as she escorted him from the party. She flashed her brightest smile whilst moving her newfound responsibility by the collar of his Hawaiian shirt through the throngs of people. Her cheeks were a stark red, a harmonious gradient from her cherry lips to her fiery locks.

She shot a quick look back to where her friends stood, mere feet away from the incident. Eddie and Ben were watching the pair storm away, concern plastered all over their faces. Meanwhile, Bill, Stan, and Mike clearly had a handle on damage control, talking Bowers and Co. down from rushing at Richie. Who, by the way, was just asking to get choke-slammed through a coffee table at this point. The punch across the face was an appropriate escalation.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer!" Richie shouts bitterly, before throwing his empty beer can in their general direction. Bev picks up her pace and tightens her grip.

Despite how it feels as if this crowded college party is never ending, the pair finally make it to the front door. Somehow, Stan had managed to follow the pair through the crowd and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. It didn't fix anything but, the gesture reminded her to inhale, in addition to exhaling. Imagine that. Richie opted to sit on the front porch while he waited for his roommate.

"He's messy tonight," Beverly grumbles, running her hands across her face and up into her hair.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Stanley observes, head cocked, eyes following Richie as he begins to spit excess blood and saliva onto the ground, "He looks normal enough to me," this elicits a soft, tired chuckle from Beverly and Stan cracks a smile, "Seriously, though, do you want any help with him?"

"No, no, Stan the Man, you're good. He's just gonna make it his goal to bother you the entire time anyway."

"Fair," he pulls Bev into a side hug, as they stand in the doorway, watching Richie hock a glob of blood and spit on the pavement once again, "And hey, if you make it through the night, tomorrow we'll get breakfast on me." She hummed her appreciation of his proposal, giving his side one last squeeze before stepping into the threshold of Trashmouth Wrangling.

"Bevvie!" Richie cheered as she stormed past him and towards the car, "We should stop at the store!" He caught up to her within two strides, trying to hold her hand.

“No,” Beverly declared, knowing she was already in for a long night. Richie pouted, before spitting yet again, “Stop it. Get in the car."

Spit.

"Don’t spit again, Richie!"

Spit.

"I swear to God! Stop! Spitting!”

Spit.

She hit her much taller friend on the back of his curly haired head, as he laughed against the cool October night. Upon impact, Richie’s glasses slid down the bridge of his nose, as crooked as the smile playing on his lips. He leaned clumsily against his friend’s dingy Ford Freestyle, the freezing touch of the vehicle cooling him down. His intoxicated laugh had echoed off into whatever residential neighborhood the pair had found themselves in this time. He looked off down the street, expectantly, as if he was waiting for someone to return his drunken call. The quirking edges of his smile faltered as he turned to beam down at the angry redhead. Her perfectly and intentionally sculpted brows arched at his childish display, “You done?”

He smiles wider, full of teeth. He spits on the pavement again before spiraling into hysterical laughter. He had no spit or blood left in his mouth at this point. Just defiance. Beverly extends both of her hands forward and shoves her friend, “How fucking old are you?!” her cry is shrill as she goes to get in the driver’s seat. Richie, knowing that he’s already pushing his luck, gets in the passenger’s seat unprompted. He even buckles his seat belt without a glare required. He leans far back in his seat, “Old enough,”

“Can you not quote Superbad at me right now? I don’t even know how to get out this fucking neighborhood!" Beverly begs, fiddling with the GPS her aunt had gifted her before the semester had begun.

"Are you mad at me?" Richie asks.

"Yeah, Rich, I'm fucking pissed," the engine revs alive as they pull away from the curb.

"Why? I held on to your hair tie all night, like you asked," he holds his wrist out dramatically, providing evidence. The redhead rolls her eyes, softening slightly. Slightly.

"I'm mad because you couldn't just let that piece of shit have the last word. Just this once!" Bev lectures, "Everything was going fine! We managed to pull Mike out of the library for one Friday night! Ben was socializing while he got us drinks!"

"Bill was going to makeout with you," Richie quips.

"You know what, Trashmouth, maybe he was!"

"He was not. Too nervous,"

"Ah! Irrelevant!" Beverly's face had done this lovely little trick it does when dealing with intoxicated Tozier, where it fluctuates from pale to bright pink to the brink of purple, rinse and repeat, "You did enough showing off for Eddie before Bowers showed up. This didn't do you any favors. I don't think beaten to a pulp is exactly his type,"

This struck a nerve.

Richie fell silent in his seat, suddenly very intrigued by the rolling foliage that whipped passed the window. His hands gripped the sides of his seat, fingers picking at the torn upholstery there. Bev didn't push it; she would remember to yell at him for that later. She glanced over at the lanky man every few minutes, looking smaller every time she did so. His busted lip was pursed into a thin line and his posture was frail, hunched. His chest rose and fell rapidly, the only part of him that was active.

Bev broke the silence, "He's probably worried about you, ya know."

"Why would he be?"

"Rich. I'm your roommate. I'm your friend. Do you think I don't have eyes?" A whine escaped from his lips and he shut his eyes tight at the realization that his secret wasn't much of a secret anymore. She gave her friend a wry smile that was practically audible, as she reached her hand across the center console to hold his, "Or a functioning gaydar?"

The duo laugh at this, Richie letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, "Please," he begged, "never use that term," despite how it had alleviated tension between them, it built up a bubble inside him, how quickly this new "quirk" about him gave her the ability to shove him into a box. Bev nods. Richie begins to fiddle with the radio. Despite being drunk off his ass, he was still too sober to be having this conversation.

"Richie...it's not like anyone of us Losers would judge you. Eddie's out and proud-"

"And that's good for Eddie," he cuts her off, wanting to change this conversation as rapidly as he's flipping the channels.

"I just...don't see why you don't just come out and go for it? I have no idea if he likes you back...you're a little polarizing like that. But what is the harm in trying?" Bev wonders, genuine support and a longing to understand in her voice.

"I don't know if there's anything for me to come out as," Richie admits, leaving the radio alone, "I mean...I think Eddie's great. Well...probably more than great. Definitely more than great," he ignores the giggles that emit from Bev, "But...am I really...gay? I couldn't tell you. I've made out with Stan's sister enough back home-" he cuts himself off to respond to Bev's scandalous expression, "you don't know shit-" she throws her head back and laughs, "that there's no way I can't like girls. Do I even need to come out? What does that even mean? Can't I just date who I want? Can't I just make out with who I want at a gross college party, no questions asked?"

Bev shrugs in response, her attitude towards Richie having made a complete 180 since their car ride began, "You got me there," she pulls his hand up to her mouth and let's a kiss linger there until the red light turns green, "We're almost home, Richie, just relax. We can keep talking about this and cuddle on the couch. Or not. Either way, this stays between you and me, bub,"

"What a fuckin' sap," he playfully teases, before turning the volume dial on the radio nearly all the way up. Through the speakers of this behemoth of a car twangs the familiar, funky chords of Sonny and Cher's "I Got You Babe". The two share a look. A look of love and exhaustion and understanding...of the fact that they were about to scream-sing this song until the very last note. This song was a promise. Melodramatic and disco-based. But a promise nonetheless.

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soulwillower · 4 years

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buttercup • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader)

requested: Would you mind writing a Richie Tozier X reader soulmate AU where Richie is VERY self conscious and he finds out that the reader is his soulmate and the reader is well known and very pretty, so he’s just like djjdjfgjjcbvnfnf but once they actually meet she really likes him? :0 thanks if you consider!

warning: swearing, angst, richie being edgy and also a bit unstable (king shit), neuroatypical richie!!!, fluff, soulmate au!! <33 also sorry this may be rough, i havent edited it at all

[reader + losers are in college]

lmk what u guys think of this one,... idk LOL

4.1k words

♡

richie was about to be sick. yes, he really, really was going to vomit in approximately ten seconds and he didn’t know what he was going to do. the room, full of barely-adults chugging jungle juice was sweaty and bustling and the walls were closing in on him quick. those people who weren't in the main rooms were doing sniff in the bathrooms and blocking his pathway to heaven (the toilet) so he quickly stumbles towards the sliding-glass door.

he passes a guy who claps his shoulder and says in a deep voice, "you good, bro?"

no, no. he's not good, bro. thanks for asking, though.

as he finally breaks free of the plastic, out of the crusty balloon that was holding his body hostage, he takes a deep breath and sprawls himself on the back deck, staring up at the clouds in the nighttime sky. maybe he should go home and mull this over, before he crams it down his own throat and chokes to death, alone and broken on the back deck of a 22 year old business major's rental house.

he laughs to himself - an image which he's sure would be a full on maniacal scene to an onlooker - as he lights a cigarette with very shaky fingers. even if he chooses to give this situation some thought, he will end up being forced regardless because this is, quite literally, richard tozier's destiny.

y/n y/l/n is richie's destiny, and it makes him feel like complete shit.

you see - his whole life, richie knew about the fucking soulmate tattoos. of course he did, everybody did - it was, like, one of the first things you learn, ever. he knows that there's basically a soulmate for every person and often times the soulmate marks were different, the ways of finding your soulmate were wide and far.

for most of richie's life - actually, almost all of it up until the last month - he'd had a big, fat 0 tattooed on his arm and below it a humiliating phrase that was quite the epitome of richie himself.

yet it never changed, which led him, his friends, and his parents to determine that he'd gotten a time-counter soulmate mark, which he likes to pride himself on believing he did not give a single fuck about.

the number is supposed to count the amount of time that you've spent with your soulmate, and there's usually a sentence or phrase that's associated with your soulmate's first thoughts of you below it. and yeah, of course the first thing the lucky guy or gal thought of richie is 'wow, those are the ugliest socks ever.' pretty fucking on-brand, if richie says so himself.

so yeah, he never really paid attention to his soulmate mark - partly because the thought of emotionally opening up to someone enough for them to know his whole and true self was repulsive and terrifying enough to make him physically ill, enough for him to develop a crazy sense of humor as a less-than proficient coping mechanism for the insecurity and fear that lives in his mind rent-free, 24/7 365. but mostly he didn't pay attention to the mark because, you know, he thought it was lame.

that is, until it changed from the 0.

it happened on the first day of classes fall semester of this, his freshman year of college.

which, honestly, was a huge fucking bummer, because he literally came into contact with almost 800 new people that first day through classes, dorms, walking around campus, and the dining hall. and yet, as he got back to his dorm and smoked a bowl with bill, he'd noticed that his arm had said 00:51:26.

bill had been so excited he'd almost lifted richie through the roof, because 'holy sh-shit, rich, y-you did it!'

it was hard to believe someone was out there for him, though. and yeah, he didn't give a fuck about it, but he also kind of did.

richie, now thinking back on that day, groans a bit. if he'd just known, if he had just fucking looked at the thigh of the girl in front of him with the soft-looking grin and the alluring scent of orange creamsicle shampoo, who'd smiled a bit when he borrowed a pen - if he'd just known then that y/n was meant to spend the rest of her life with him, he could've... well, he's not really sure what he could have done.

he thinks to that moment in time, as he was blowing smoke out the dorm window with bill and giggling as he ate an entire bag of cheez-its, and how much he wanted to know who it was back then.

but tonight, it had become a nightmare when the information practically fell into his lap. he's at this house party in late september, and about five minutes ago it was just boring enough to warrant sitting on the rug in the living room and just fun enough to actually stay.

“-yeah, she said the first time you guys met was in microeconomics, right?” ben says, and richie huffs in agreement as he picks at the skin on his nails. ben was talking about her again, and richie's heart was beating stupidly hard. y/n, one of his closest friends that he'd made outside of the losers, never failed to make his heart run a goddamn marathon.

“-she told me the first thing she noticed was that you were wearing socks with sandals. and she thought that your socks were really ugly.” he finishes with a laugh and richie’s head snaps up at that. he feels chills spill over back as if he’d been doused with ice water and he gapes at ben. “wait, what?” richie shudders, the words escaping his lips quietly enough that his friends mistake it for a forceful exhale brought on by offense at the word 'ugly.'

“well she was right to think that.” stan says from behind his solo cup, carefree, as if richie’s life wasn’t crashing to an alarming and unbelievable halt. eddie giggles faintly somewhere from the floor where the losers are sitting, but richie’s mind is reeling too much for him to react to or even comprehend anything.

“rich, i th-thought i got you to st-stop wearing socks and sandals so long ago.” bill adds, laughing into his hand. but richie’s barely registering any other fucking information because he’s staring at ben, who is finally noticing his friend’s perplexed face. “you good, rich?” ben asks carefully.

“wh-er, wait. what exactly did she say?” richie asks, really not wanting to know the answer and yet wanting to know more than life itself. it can't be her. he’s getting odd looks from everyone now, but he's starting to breathe quickly and he thinks he might vomit. he kind of regrets never showing anybody but big bill his soulmate mark, because he's suffocating right now in embarrassment and bill is a little too drunk to assume what richie's assuming right now.

“wait, y/n y/l/n, right? from my dorm. she’s here tonight, she told me- oh, y/n!” stan calls, looking directly over richie’s shoulder. it happens so fast. y/n, in the flesh, walks past at just that moment, breaking out into a breath-taking, world-halting smile. richie's chest hurts worse than it ever has before as she waves and bustles over to plop herself next to richie. and holy shit, she's wearing shorts because even though it's cold out, the house is warm and richie can see dark ink on her thigh. a soulmate tattoo. he can't draw his eyes away even though his brain is screaming to knock it off because there's going to be something there he doesn't want to accept, but he then does it anyways.

he almost hyperventilates as he reads the words emblazoned on her thigh,

27:36:08 and right below it: "holy hell her hair smells like orange creamsicle"

he almost sobs right then and there as she greets him with a soft hand on his shoulder, completely unaware of their fate and richie has to stand up abruptly because he can literally feel the numbers changing on his arm as the seconds go by with y/n at his side.

and now, mere minutes later he's out here, laying in self pity as anxiety claws at every inch of his body and fear tingles on him like the slight presence of snowflakes falling on his skin - briefly he wonders if, as an older man, he'll wonder how he never got cold wearing nothing, vulnerable as he welcomes in that falling snow.

he would be totally daft not to wonder how he ended up with a soulmate like her, someone not only so fucking attractive but so kind and undeserving of a monstrosity of a human like him. she is, in every place he isn't, a complete and utter success of a person; he's a hurricane where she's whitecaps in the sea, he's loud and abrupt while she is kind and outgoing. maybe they do work well together, hell - they spend enough time on study dates outside of class for him to know that he does really like her. but richie also knows his standoffish, happy-go-lucky and untamed personality paired with his unwillingness to make himself appear vulnerable to most people will probably have a very large impact on... whatever it is that happens with y/n.

because that's really the point, isn't it?

she is stuck with him. bucky beaver, the trashmouth, mr. i-can't-keep-my-trap-shut-for-three-seconds. y/n, the most incredible person in this world, is the kind of person that was designed for richie to admire from afar, as he is so willing to suffer through. because as much as it hurts to watch her and to love her without loving her, it is a thousand times safer for both of them than the inevitable look of disappointment that will befall y/n’s angelic features when she discovers who her burden of a soulmate is.

the thought makes richie choke out a weak sob, sitting up and digging the heel of his palms into his sockets, trying to scrub out the image of himself from his brain. awful, awful, bad.

he takes a long drag from his cigarette and for a brief moment he wonders if, just maybe, she’ll love him back eventually. the thought makes him feel like crying all over again.

huge nose, big teeth, awkwardly skinny and too tall. maybe he's got nice hair, but he sometimes wakes up too late and can only brush his teeth and swipe on deodorant before he's sprinting out his dorm with his pickle socks and stan's old sandals, trudging to class and getting in the way of y/n's future.

but he is her future, after all - how can that be right?

he doesn't have enough time to take another drag from his cig as he hears the glass door open, the noise from the party bursting through the gap in the foundation of the house and sending him back to five minutes, ago, inside. he cranes his neck and can't bring himself to be surprised when he sees her, backlit from the party inside and figure in his mind standing like the only being in the world.

she thinks he looks devastatingly beautiful tonight. she loves the awkwardness in his bones, the way he carries himself with confidence although she's not sure he always really has it. he's wearing some dumb socks again as usual, though they're mostly covered by his black pants and red high-tops this time. it makes her smile softly.

she wants to know him, really know him, as more than just a classmate, a crush, a boy who's friends with stan uris from the floor above her own room. she wants to feel his large hands on her in more than just fleeting greetings, knucks to the shoulder or jaw. she wants the sharp taste of nicotine and mint from those life savers he was always sucking on in her own mouth as he holds her tightly against him, she wants to know everything about him and be with him, even if they aren't somehow destined to be forever. which, she thinks with an array of wild animals tumbling around her chest, they might be.

after all, someone at this party is her soulmate, and she's almost 99.8% sure it's richie. it gives her the most beautiful butterflies she's ever had, even when he stares at her from the deck with glassy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

"what’s up, buttercup?” is all she says, in her mind because he's stunned her to near-silence once again by just existing, and in his mind because she is the most perfect being.

he doesn't respond despite being completely charmed by her, because he's breathing in the nicotine and its making his fingers twitch and even though he's sober by now, he thinks he may be tweaking a bit, mostly from the overwhelming set of information that just smacked into his face when y/n walked over into that room.

he watches as suddenly she's dropping herself so she's sat next to him, her legs swinging off the edge of the deck. she eyes his cigarette. "that's so unhealthy, rich." she says softly, teasing but with a lacing of truth behind it that really makes richie itch to never smoke ever again in his life. but he's a stubborn ass, so he instead takes a deeper drag, maintaining eye contact. he can feel one tear slip from his eye and he feels so fucking melodramatic as he does so, but he's at the lowest he's been in a while, so he gives himself a bit of credit.

she reaches out and pulls the cigarette directly from between his lips, sending him a pointed look as she presses it out on the finished wood of the deck. he wipes the tear away when she's not looking. and as she turns back he smirks, unsure what else to do, as he blows the smoke out of his mouth towards her face.

"hi, toots." he says in what he hopes is a normal tone, despite his blotchy and tear-trailed face. she blinks her eyes owlishly at him but just shrugs, "you left a little prematurely back there. what, do i smell that bad?" she jokes. no, he thinks, you smell like orange creamsicles.

it's bittersweet, the irony in her statement. because he knows that she probably knows what she smells like every day, as it's literally tattooed right on the meat of her leg, on display for her and whoever else lucky enough to find themselves being acquainted with the skin of her upper thigh. the thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

maybe if he were feeling a little less in-the-dumps, a little less like a complete and utter disappointment and failure that ruined this sweet girl's life, he would have ribbed her back a bit. you know, grind her gears in typical tozier fashion.

but he's exhausted and so distraught that he can't bring himself to even look at her. "i'm not in the mood" he grumbles, his heart pounding. she frowns, tilting her head.

"okay, what's wrong, richie?" she asks, and it's in that caring voice that she uses that isn't pitying but simply solicitous in nature. her calming force on him is obvious and immediate and his teeth stop rattling around in his head

he wants to scream because she's burning warm and perfect while he's frigid cold inside his body; a wasteland full of broken slinkies and half-formulated 'your mom' jokes that are melded to the crust of him with the tar that's been sucked straight from those damn ciggies. for crying out loud, if he were to so much as touch her, she'd get corrupted.

she notices as he scoots a bit away from her, and her heart hurts. he's so upset, clearly, and yet it hurts her that he can't trust himself or her enough to open up; no fault of his own surely, but heartbreaking all the same. "i care about you, and i really want to be here for you." she says it like there's going to be more, but the words kind of die in her throat as she realizes the extend of her words.

holy shit, she thinks, i'd go to the ends of the earth for him. if richie asked me to, i think i'd probably kill the queen.

"i stubbed my toe, and it really hurts." he says then, and the absurdity of his excuse makes her laugh out loud, head tilting back towards the moon as the bubbly giggles tumble from her lips. she looks at him after and his face is a twisted mix of affection and utter pain, a combination that hurts her to her core but lights a fuel in her that makes her want to help him.

"it's true." he mutters, motioning to his shoe limply, and she looks at his foot, the tip of his converse scribbled in sharpie with the word 'half-brain' and then a bunch of hearts.

"i like your socks." she says absentmindedly, grinning at him as she says it, voice teasing. but the reaction she was hoping for was nowhere to be seen as richie suddenly heaves a hiccup-sob, one so upsetting and quiet that she thinks she misheard it.

but he's keeling over and clutching his face with his hands, shaking his head, and her heart breaks. "richie, honey please tell me what's going on. or i can just sit here, if you'd rather-"

her sentence is cut off with richies own rushed words, expelled from his mouth so quickly that it's almost as if they were trying to escape while his lips tried to hold them in.

"-you're going to have to spend the rest of your life trying to force yourself to love me, and that terrifies me.”

as he says it, his stomach twists itself inwards at his admission and he thinks he's going to be sick. he doesn't deserve you, you're going to resent him for it. she's silent for a few moments, and he doesn't dare look anywhere near her as tears trail down his solemn cheekbones and drop onto the black corduroy that wraps around his jittering legs.

"richie, please, what are you trying to say?" she says quietly, sounding scared, nervous, upset... richie did that. it's his fault. he tilts his head back, his brain buzzing in guilt. "fuck," he says, and it comes out broken, "you... i- you're my soulmate." he says, looking down to where his chest rises and falls almost unnaturally, a consequence of muscle memory being tampered with by the lethally college combination of nicotine, alcohol and marijuana on an empty stomach.

earlier he was afraid that if he opened his mouth too wide he would lose control of his tongue and then the words would come out without him wanting them to, but he knows he's basically sober by now, as sober as y/n is next to him - he's just neurotic, but he doesn't want her to know that, because oh god, what if she hated him for it?

she wouldn't, right? isn't she supposed to find a way to love him?

this was a really stupid idea, but in his mind it was one that had to be done. shutting his eyes, he tugs the sleeve of his left arm upwards, taking a shaky breath. again, it's silent as she reads the words written there. wow, those are the ugliest socks ever.

she stares at the words, and the number above it, then she looks at her own thigh, where the exact same number counts on in time with his.

he wastes no time, though: "-don't worry, doll. i've got it figured out, we can just- maybe we can get yours covered and you don't have to think about it anymore. fi-find someone better, like, oh, bill - he'd treat you nice i think. just- we don't have to think about it, i'm sorry." he says in one breath, not looking at her at all.

"richie, how can i be yours if you're not mine?" she says thickly because she's fighting off tears wondering how someone so incredible and full of life could feel so undeserving.

"you can't want me, you can't." he insists, not looking at her as she gapes at him because if he were to look at her expression he may lose it. it's quiet again in their own little world here, the air silent and numbing as y/n takes a breath.

"oh my god, wait richie how are we this stupid?" she asks, perking up and lightly slapping his arm. he looks at her in shock as she begins to laugh, "we've been alone together so many times. how did we not notice?" she asks, and he chuckles a bit, shrugging.

"maybe we're not the sharpest crayons in the drawer, toots. all i'm sayin' is that i figured it out first." he says cheekily, and secretly both of them are shocked to see how quickly they fell together, as if the knowledge that they were made for each other made all their insecurities fall away.

her face softens again. "you know, i saw my timer counting tonight and i was hoping more than anything that you'd be here. that we'd be-" she adds softly, a hand landing lightly on richie's thigh, sending licks of flames up his body. she takes a breath and restarts. "do you know how fucking bad i wanted it to be you?"

and just like that, y/n unintentionally provides a luscious mix of words and tricks that fill him with barely enough confidence to let him bet when he knows he should fold.

what's life without a little risk?

he meets her eyes for the first time in a few minutes and hers are large and hopeful as they wait patiently for him to give her something. but he still can't speak without running his mouth, so instead he cups her cheeks. her lips part slowly and he stares in awe at her raw beauty, unable to hold it in longer.

he presses his lips to her quickly and to her it feels like he is trying to prove something. it makes her heart soar as he comes alive against her, pressing as enthusiastically as she is into him. he tastes, as she'd guessed, like nicotine but mostly like a mint and it makes her grin as he pulls back.

"is this okay?" he's asking then, his thumb soothing over her cheek sweetly and giving her the same butterflies she gets when he smiles; the very same butterflies that release when he says anything to her, when he comes to her dorm for a study date with two red bulls in his hand, and when she realized their tattoos beat the same.

"yeah, of course." she whispers against his lips, the feeling of his teasing lightly making her sniffle. she presses their lips together again, this time warmer, more comfortably and his hands move to her hips and tug her closer, her hands winding to his neck as his own hands explore her body, caressing her sides gently. he pulls back and holds her softly.

"your hair smells nice." he says sheepishly, and she grins so widely she thinks she may split in two. her heart flutters as she looks into his eyes, finding nothing but love. "orange creamsicle, huh?" she asks with pink cheeks, and he laughs lightly, nodding his head. "best smell ever, babe."

"you make me happy." she says it onto his lips again, and the shiver that runs down his spine is a feeling he wouldn't mind feeling forever. his heart soars because he believes her, he trusts her. she wouldn't lie to him.

"we're so dramatic, aren't we?" richie jokes, his walls sliding back up a bit, but as y/n cuddles into his chest, head against his beating heart as she presses kisses to his neck, he realizes she accepts him.

"yeah, well. we're made for each other, aren't we rich?" she asks gently as his hand falls to brush over her thigh, right over the words. "that's right, toots." he says softly, looking down at her hairline softly, still in disbelief that it worked out for him. she turns to look at him, cheeks dusted a bit as she leans up to press a kiss on his lips.

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

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brittle-bone-gabe · 5 years

Text

Two Opposites, But Two Losers: Chapter Two - Fancy Running Into You Here

Chapter One, Chapter Three,

Summary: Eddie Kaspbrak is a first-year medical student trying to start off on the right foot, but being up all night to study and pull through on his assignments increases his need for coffee; this is where he meets his “favorite” new barista, Richie Tozier: an art student with bad habits. (I will specify a possible trigger in the chapter titles if it calls for one).

Pairings: Eddie x Richie, Ben x Beverly, Stan x Patty, Bill x Audra, Bill x Mike

Read on Ao3: Here

Art History certainly wasn’t Richie’s top subject, in fact, if his graduation criteria wasn’t requiring it he would have skipped the class all together. The class had a test today, and Richie was sure that he had failed it for the sole reason he kept erasing and redoing almost all of his answers, even though in the end he usually kept the original answer he had in the first place. Words could not describe how frustrated that made Richie; did he make the right choices with his answers? Did he royally fuck up? Bev was right, he should’ve been studying instead of going out every night… Maybe he’d stay in all week to study. ...Right. Richie told himself that every week but never stuck with it.

You fucked up, why didn’t you just fucking study, you stupid fucking- Richie’s thoughts got cut off as soon as he looked up from the floor, noticing the familar figure walking across the t-hallway, not even glancing Richie’s way. Any and all negative thoughts Richie had were brushed aside, a huge smile on his face as he had a new goal at the moment. He needed to pick on Eddie again. Richie squirmed his way through the group of people in the hallway, racing to catch up to the shorter man, minding his own business, not aware that he was about to be bombarded by a trashmouth.

“Morning Bird!” Richie said loudly, causing everyone in the hallway to turn and look at him, not sure who he was referring to, but certainly gave him that you’re insane look.

Recognizing the voice made Eddie physically cringe, gripping his backpack strap so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He closed his eyes for just a moment, letting out a sigh before opening them again just as Richie managed to catch up with him.

“What’s up!” Richie said just as loudly as he did when he called for him.

Eddie couldn’t help himself as he pinched the bridge of his nose, he couldn’t believe how loud this man could possibly be. He was acting as if he had way too much coffee, which wouldn’t surprise Eddie considering the fact that Richie worked in a fucking coffee shop. He probably got too much free coffee to keep him awake for the entire day. Just spending the short amount of time with Richie this morning had exhausted Eddie, how in the hell did he manage to run into him here, in one of the hundreds of hallways on campus?

“On my way to class…” Eddie mumbled, he could physically feel people’s eyes on him and he didn’t like it at all. He hated having all the attention on him, he felt more inclined to fuck something up and trip over his own feet.

It’s as though Richie couldn’t pick up on how Eddie was feeling, as he continued the conversation as if nothing was awkward for him or anything.

“Oh yeah?” Richie started, “what class ya got, Morning Bird?”

“Behavioral Sciences… And would you stop calling me that? It’s almost two in the afternoon.”

Shit, was it really? Richie checked the smart-watch on his wrist. He couldn’t believe that, it felt like time was going by quickly today.

He laughed. “What else am I supposed to call you?”

God, was he annoying… It was as though he only had one volume setting on his voice.

Eddie couldn’t help but roll his eyes at his ridiculous question. “I dunno… my name?” As annoyed as Eddie was trying to act, he was lowkey trying to hold back his small smile. There was no way Richie would be able to remember his name from way back of this morning, especially how busy the Harvest usually got around eight in the morning. Just to hear him trip up would make Eddie’s day.

“Ah, okay, Eds.” Seeing Eddie frown at the nickname made Richie chuckle, he always had a natural talent for pissing people off just being twisting their names around. Well, in general he had a talent to piss people off, that was his favorite trait.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Aww, cheer up Ed-” even before Richie could finish his sentence, Eddie glared at him, giving him that choose my name carefully look. “Eddie,” Richie finished, a smile still on his face.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Nope! Y’know, I never asked… what’s your major?”

“I’m… actually in med school.”

Honestly? Richie was shocked to hear that. He had saw Eddie as someone who would be majoring in engineering. Maybe computer science, but med school? That was so fucking cool. Richie certainly couldn’t keep focus on schooling that long to become a doctor, but anyone who could was amazing.

“Oh… wow. That’s awesome!” Eddie looked up at Richie, shocked at his answer. “So you’re going to be a doctor or some shit?”

Eddie smiled and nodded, and as soon as he did, Richie started rambling away about how cool that was, how he could never do that, but it was awesome that Eddie was able to do it. Eddie wasn’t used to praise from anyone besides his professors about how he was doing in school, lord knows he barely had any support when choosing his major in high school. His mom hated the fact he wanted to become a doctor, in fact, when he had mentioned that med school was on his choice for majors she went insane. She had tried to do everything she could to try to convince him to pick literally anything else, going as far as to attempting to bribe him to switch by offering to pay for his entire schooling as long as he chose anything else. Just because she was a hypochondriac and turned Eddie into a hypochondriac his entire childhood didn’t mean she could dictate his entire life; but in high school, Eddie decided that he wanted to help people, to reassure people that everything would be okay and he could fix them. Anytime Eddie called home just to check up on his mother he wasn’t able to mention school at all, otherwise she would get extremely passive aggressive, turning the conversation into making sure Eddie was making the right choice for his future.

“What about you?” Eddie asked Richie once he stopped his rambling, “What’s your major?”

Richie laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head. “Ah… mine’s not as exciting as your thing.”

“I didn’t ask that, I asked what your major was.”

Well, Richie was taken aback by how snappy Eddie could be, it was cute though. He smiled at the smart ass remark, though.

“Graphic design, not sure what I want to do with it, but… eh…” he shrugged, readjusting the single strapped backpack that was around his torso. “Art’s my thing.” Eddie’s walk slowed to a stop in front of a classroom, causing Richie to smile even bigger. “Looks like I just walked you to your class.”

“Don’t make a habit of this, Richie.”

“Uhhuh, uhhuh…. I’ll see ya later, Morning Bird!” Richie made sure to say it loudly so everyone already in the classroom would hear him, they turned their heads to see who was coming inside the classroom after that.

Eddie discreetly flipped him off as he made his way into the classroom, his face turning pink from the embarrassment of everyone looking at him. Well, that was going to make class more interesting. People on the other side of the earth could probably hear Richie and his big fucking mouth.

As Richie walked away, he pulled out his phone from his back pocket. As usual, the first thing he did whenever he unlocked his phone was go to his messaging app, texting Beverly. He texted her, asking her where she was and what she was doing right now, as he could never remember her schedule during the week or what classes she has going on. To be fair, most things go through one ear and out the other for Richie, it was something most people had to deal with when getting close to him, accepting that he will forget a lot of things.

He was about to lock his phone and put it back in his pocket, but Bev began texting back immediately, the three dots were underneath his text on the screen. Richie moved with his back against the brick wall, staying out of the way so others could walk past him in the hallway while he waited for a text back. He stared at it, waiting anxiously to see what she had to say.

-Layin’ down with ben, her text had said.

So she must’ve not had class today… That, or she skipped class to spend time with her boyfriend. Ben worked 3rd shift as a campus guard, Richie couldn’t understand why there needed to be a 3rd shift campus guard walking around the grounds at night, but whatever paid the bills…

-wanna get lunch of somethin’? i got some tea for ya.

-👀 should we meet at harvest?

Obviously it was a joke, but Richie still audibly groaned just thinking about hanging out there while not on the clock.

-😡 no we have to go somewhere with good food

-🖕

-----

There was an amazing sub shop that was just off campus that Richie and Bev had agreed to meet at. Of course, Richie was there first, he was anxious to tell Bev about how he “walked” Eddie to class. Besides that though, Richie wanted to spend time with his best friend. Well, no, Bev was more like his sister than his best friend and everyone knew that. They were those annoying best friends who posted each other on Snapchat and Instagram nonstop, but at the same time some people were like “I wish I had a friendship like that.” Nobody really knew what they’ve been through together that made them this close, and it was likely that nobody would ever know that side of Richie anyways.

The two have sat at a table, their food sitting in front of them, but Richie couldn’t focus on eating as he was busy readjusting the many bracelets on his wrists and bouncing his leg. That was the first sign to Bev that something was wrong with him. Although, she couldn’t tell if he was anxious or excited, as he acted the same for either or.

“What’s your problem?” Bev asked him before taking a bite into her sandwich.

“Hm?” Richie hummed, snapping out of his many, many thoughts. He had almost forgotten that he was the one who invited her out because he had some tea. “Oh, nothin’...”

“Bullshit. You know better than to lie to me, Trashmouth.” She grabbed a piece of lettuce that was on her tray, throwing it at him so it got stuck in his hair. Richie fished it out before throwing it back at her. “You said you had tea for me, I’m not hearing any tea.”

“Remember that guy that came in earlier?” Richie asked quickly, trying to contain the smile he wanted to let free.

“Many guys come in, Richie, and you have heart eyes for almost all of them.”

“Excuse me, I do not.” Bev didn’t say anything, she just rolled her eyes waiting for him to get to the point and be more specific. “No, I’m talking about the guy from waaay earlier in the morning.”

“The one you kept calling cute?”

“Yes!” He waved his fingers, pointing at her, “that one!”

“What about him?”

“I saw him after class and I walked him to his class.”

Bev groaned. “Did you walk him to his class or did you follow him?”

“He’s so cute, dude,” Richie said as he sat up, shaking both of his hands so the bracelets fell down to the base of his hands.

“You need a man.”

“I fucking knooooow. Morning Bird is in med school, Bev. Med school.”

“So he’s too smart for you, got it. Better luck trying to find something else.”

“Bitch, fuck you.”

They flipped each other off before sitting in silence once more. Richie didn’t know what else to say, from what he was implying Bev was telling him… she was right. There would be no fucking way Eddie would want to be with someone like him. Hell, the way he freaked out when he saw Richie smoking outside during his small break was evidence of that. Eddie thought smoking was gross, and he was right, even Richie thought smoking was gross, but no matter how many times he had tried to quit in the past it didn’t matter as he went right back to his old habits. They were scrolling through their phones now, but Bev couldn’t help but notice that Richie kept mindlessly itching his forearm that was covered by the long sleeve shirt underneath his t-shirt.

“So, how are things going, Rich?” Bev asked in complete seriousness.

Richie knew how serious she was being because that was the only time she called in Rich instead of Richie, or Trashmouth, or literally anything else.

He shook his head lightly, dropping his hands to the table, locking his phone screen. “‘m fine,” he mumbled, avoiding eye contact. He had to look back up to her when he felt that she was giving him that serious look she gave when she knew he wasn’t telling the complete truth. “I am! I’m fine!”

“Alright, alright!” She held her hands up to him, “I didn’t say anything. But… you know you can talk to me about-”

“I know. I appreciate it.”

Richie began anxiously fiddling with the phone in his hands, waiting for a specific notification to come through. He honestly didn’t want to have this conversation again, especially in a public place, it would just take one person overhearing it and Richie would refuse to ever show his face around campus again. Bev was a total sweetheart, she was there for Richie through thick and thin, as he was there for her too, but sometimes she asked about this specific problem too much. Not like Richie would ever tell her to stop trying to help, but it would clear he would be uncomfortable with the conversation.

The phone finally vibrated in Richie’s hand, causing his heart to do a flip in his chest as he sat up quickly, unlocking his phone to see a text message with no contact name with only a single character in the text box.

“I gotta go,” Richie said quickly, standing up before Bev could even process what was going on.

“Where do you have to be that’s so damn important?” She asked as Richie was throwing his backpack strap over his torso, shoving his phone in his back pocket.

“Gotta meet up with my project partner,” he leaned down, kissing Bev’s cheek. That was something they’ve always done as best friends. “I’ll see ya later, Molly Ringwald.”

“Fuck you, Trahsmouth.”

Richie waved as he quickly left the sub shop, Bev watching sadly after him. She had a strong gut feeling that there was no project partner. She hated accusing and thinking that Richie was doing this shit again, but after what happened she couldn’t help it…

Bev unlocked her phone, opening up their next door neighbor, Stan’s, text messages.

- i think richies slipping again could you talk to him?

-----

Richie had walked across campus and then some just to meet up with his “project partner.” Yeah, that was such a good fucking cover up… Richie could tell that Bev didn’t really believe him or his lies and he felt like such an asshole for lying to her but he couldn’t help it anymore. He looked over his shoulder as he walked through the main parking lot where hundreds of cars were parked, but picking out which car he was looking for wasn’t that difficult of a task. In fact, Richie could recognize that crappy red car from anywhere as it was facing away from the campus building so nobody would make out who the driver was.

When Richie walked up to the car, he didn’t even knock on the window or anything to get the drivers attention, instead, he just opened the passengers side door and slid inside, closing the door behind him. In the driver's seat sat Henry Bowers; it was no secret that Henry and Richie fucking hated each others guts, but they needed each other so they would just suck it up for the time being. They had been partnered up for a project about a year ago, but stuck together, lowkey meeting up since Henry became Richie’s dealer; a known dealer at that, and Richie was his best customer.

“Did ya miss me?” Richie asked playfully, a smile on his face.

“Shut up, faggot.”

Richie shrugged the insult off. Henry had called him that so many times it lost any and all meaning.

“I want Pepsi,” Richie gave his overused, failed attempt at a joke. Henry only glared at him, looking like he was about ready to punch him in the jaw. “Get it? You’re supposed to say-”

“I get the fucking joke, Tozier. Especially since you make the joke every fucking time.”

Richie swung the backpack around, pulling out one-hundred dollars he kept at the bottom of all the junk in there. He dropped it on the center console so nobody who was possibly lurking around out in the parking lot could see them exchanging money. Normally, as his own rule, Henry would check everybody’s money, but since RIchie’s money was always good he didn’t feel the need to. From underneath his seat, Henry pulled out a brown paper lunch bag, handing it over to Richie underneath the view of the windshield who immediately shoved it into his backpack.

“So… got any plans later?” Richie only asked him because he knew it pissed him off.

“Get the fuck out of my car.”

“Right,” he said quickly, getting out of the car like he was instructed to do. He waved obnoxiously to Henry before making his way back to the apartment to get what he paid for.

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tr4shmouth-tozi3r · 5 years

Text

Just let me help you - reddie

requested: yes, get ready for the fluff anon

summary: We all know Eddie is a complete germaphobe and we also know Richie is the type of boy who doesn’t wash his hair for four days. How did these boys ever fall in love? One day, Eddie has an accident when the Losers run into the Bowers gang and yes, there are lots of germs and anxiety and mouth breathing bullies, so Richie offers to help Eddie. “Just let me help you, for fuck sake, Eds.” “Since when did you grow a heart, asshole? DON’T TOUCH ME, RICHIE!”

pairing: richie tozier x eddie kaspbrak

warnings: swearing, bullying, slight physical assault bc henry and his goons are deranged assholes so, and loooooads of reddie fluff so be careful u might die:’)

“So, do you guys think they’re ever gonna shut up?” Mike asked the rest of his friends as they all stood still, all of their eyes glued to the two boys before them. They watched as the pair bickered with each other. They all wondered if the two ever got tired of it.

“Well, not until one of them admits they’re in love with the other. So, I guess that means never.” Stan joked, but the losers all knew it was true. These boys were madly in love and showed their love for each other in the ugliest of ways. Society was such a cruel thing.

“Oh boy, did you hit that nail right on the head or what?” Bev scoffed with a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Listen, Eds-”

“Do not call me that, Tozier! How many goddamn fucking times do I have to tell you that!?” The smaller boy yelled in frustration as he gripped his fanny pack in one hand while he wagged his finger at the taller boy with his other hand. Eddie would never admit it, but God did he love that nickname.

The taller boy laughed, a shit eating grin adorning his face as he pushed his thick rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose and ran his hand through a knot forming in his tight black curls.

Richie loved to tease Eddie. He loved to get a rise out of the smaller boy. He would never admit that he loved the way Eddie would huff at him in anger and his face would heat up instantly and he would let himself get so worked up over every little thing Richie would do to him. He loved having that control over him. He loved him.

“It was a fucking accident, chill. How come you weren’t this mad when you saw me leaving your house last night after I fucked your mom? C’mon man, priorities.” Richie scolded the boy playfully, a smirk on his face and his head shaking disapprovingly.

“Alright, that’s it! THAT’S IT!” Eddie threw his hands up in the air as he turned on his heel and hastily picked his bike up. He tried his hardest to hide the smile threatening to come across his lips. He wouldn’t dare to let Richie know he enjoyed this shit. Richie laughed loudly as he voiced his not so sorry apology. He glanced at their friends and shrugged in amusement and they all rolled their eyes knowingly.

“D-D-Do th-they suh-seriously think that w-w-w-we don’t kn-know?” Bill asked with a giggle.

“Don’t know what?” Richie sauntered over to the group and threw a glance back at Eddie who was about to take off and he secretly hoped he wouldn’t.

“Noth-“ Ben went to elaborate and was quickly cut short.

“Hey, queer boy.”

“Uh oh.” Ben whispered.

They all turned and watched as Henry and his goons circled around Eddie, who at this point was stood still on his bike supporting himself on one leg with his other foot hovering over one of the pedals. His body was stiff and his arms began to tremble as his anxiety rose through him.

“Hey, shit bag, leave him alone!” Richie’s expression hardened and he stepped forward slightly.

“Richie, don’t.” Eddie’s shaky voice called out.

“Aw, how sweet. Your little boyfriend thinks he can save you. How silly.” Henry’s shrill laugh made them all cringe.

“Bowers, back off.” Mike spat the words so harshly that Henry’s head snapped towards them.

“I suggest you back off, blackie.”

“Alright, applause to the biggest douchebag around. So you’re an asshole and you’re racist. You must have a great resumè.” Richie just didn’t know when to shut up apparently. Henry looked at his friends, nodding his head toward the group. Patrick and Belch walked in their direction, knocking Richie down in the process and his glasses right off of his face.

“Look at you, losers. How pathetic are you? The little nerdy gay boy is the only one with balls? Ha.” Henry spoke to them, but his gaze stayed upon Eddie as he made eye contact with the boy and each word dripped with hostility.

Richie quickly grabbed his spectacles and took the hem of his hawaiian button up, wiping at the lenses rather quickly. He couldn’t see and if he couldn’t see that meant he was vulnerable and Richie couldn’t stand that, “Fuck you, dickwad!” He scrambled to his feet, only to be yoked up by Patrick by the collar of his shirt.

“Come on, Bowers. Leave him alone. Afraid to pick on one of us instead? You’ve been targeting Eddie quite alot lately. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were the queer boy here.” Beverly crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

“Shut your whore mouth, bitch. Don’t make me shove my cock down your throat, again.” He seethed through gritted teeth and Beverly’s face fell.

“We all know Beverly wouldn’t let you touch her with a ten foot pole, keep dreaming.” Stan cackled and instantly shut his mouth and flinched away as Belch threw himself forward at the boy, laughing at his scared reaction.

Henry was fuming at this point and so he shoved Eddie over. The small boy tumbled to the ground below, splitting his knee open in the process.

“Eddie!” Richie pounded on Patrick’s chest. The older boy’s hold didn’t let up, though.

“Fuck, fuck!” Eddie gulped and reached for his fanny pack, suddenly feeling a wave of anxiety wash over him. My mom will never let me outside again if she sees this shit, he thought. He took notice of the dirt coating his wound and instantly his throat felt like it was closing in on him.

Germs. Infections. Death.

“I’ll take that.” Henry snatched his fanny pack from his reach.

“Hey, asshole, he needs his inhaler, what the fuck? So you kill little kids, too!?” Richie shouted over Patrick’s shoulder. He watched as Eddie struggled to breathe.

“Shut the fuck up, fairy! Keep talking shit and your little boyfriend is gonna get it!” Henry shouted angrily as he kicked at Eddie’s side and the small boy yelped in pain and tried his hardest to drag himself away from Henry, but Vic stepped in his way.

Richie swallowed hard and shut his mouth. He knew Henry meant it and so did the rest of the gang, so they all watched nervously, afraid of their next move. There might have been more of them, but these boys were dangerous and they carried weapons. Weapons they weren’t afraid to use, either.

“Hey!” Their heads whipped around to see a shop owner in town approaching them. So maybe Henry didn’t really think it through when he decided to attack them in the middle of town. He dropped the fanny pack at Eddie’s side and Vic backed away from the boy’s small frame. Patrick released Richie from his grasp and Belch stepped back from the rest of the group, “Knock it off you punks and leave those kids alone!” The man shouted and Henry called his goons back to him.

The boys retreated back to Henry’s car rather quickly without another word spoken. All the kids let out a breath they didn’t even know they were holding, except for Eddie, who at this point was barely able to breathe.

“Eds!” Richie ran to the boy’s side.

“Don’t-,” gasp, “f-fucking-,” another gasp, “touch me!” And another gasp. Eddie scrambled for his inhaler and Richie kneeled down beside him, grabbing his fanny pack for him. Eddie began to puff on the inhaler and his eyes went wide at the sight of Richie’s dirty, greasy fingers pressing into the fabric of his most sacred possession.

He snatched it from Richie’s hands, cringing at the thought of all the germs that were swimming all over him at this point, “Just let me help you, for fuck sake, Eds.” Richie grabbed the fanny pack from Eddie’s hand with a sigh of frustration.

“Since when did you grow a heart, asshole?” Richie scoffed in amusement at him and pulled out some alcohol wipes and a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide, “DON’T TOUCH ME, RICHIE!”

“Oh shut the hell up, ya big baby.” He grumbled back in response as he tended to Eddie’s wound. The strangest feeling washed over Eddie. It was a feeling he had never felt for Richie, at least not this powerfully. It was a feeling of adoration. He adored this boy, even with his unkept greasy hair and his crumb infested fingers from whatever lunch he had that day. Eddie was a complete germaphobe and yet he adored this boy who was practically a walking germ.

His demeanor softened and his face flushed. He was blushing. He could feel it. Richie looked up at him and smirked at the pink tint on his cheeks. They both felt eyes on them and their heads shot towards the group.

“Suh-see what I-I-I muh-m-mean?” Bill laughed so loud it resonated around them and the group giggled in amusement at the two boys. Now it was Richie’s turn to blush.

“Yes, completely.” Stan agreed and the rest nodded in agreement.

“What the fuck are you talking about, assholes!?” Eddie shouted and Richie voiced his agreement.

“Oh nothing,” Beverly mused, “but would you look at the time!? We gotta get going guys! Make sure you get him home in one piece, trashmouth.” She winked at the two and the group sauntered off to their bikes and rode away, leaving them utterly flustered and confused.

“What the hell was that?” Richie asked and Eddie shrugged unknowingly.

“I have no idea, but I do know I’m bound to get an infection letting you do this for me. When is the last time you washed your hands, Rich?” He asked and Richie faked a pained look.

“Hey, I’m a clean guy!”

“Your hair is so greasy, dude. Look at your fingernails, too! There’s crumbs under them from God knows when! I’m totally gonna get an infection.” Eddie rambled and rambled until Richie threw his hand over his mouth.

“That’s what all these supplies are for, asswipe. Now stop being a jerk and appreciate me for once. I don’t do this shit for just anybody, ya know.” Eddie swallowed the lump in his throat as Richie spoke softly and carefully to him, inches from his face. His breathe smelled like a ham sandwich and a marlboro.

Eddie laughed mentally at himself, wondering how he seriously managed to fall for someone like Richie. Maybe it was the fact that Richie didn’t care what people thought of him. Or his loyalty to his friends and loved ones. God, he had no clue, but for some reason he wanted to taste Richie’s lips against his.

“S-S-Sorry...” He forced the words out of his throat and hated himself for stuttering.

“Woah, hi Bill, didn’t know you were in there.” Richie joked and his laugh bounced through Eddie’s ears like it was his favorite song. He couldn’t help but laugh too.

“Okay, fuck you, Tozier.”

“Chill, Eds, we’re in public. Wait till we get home.” He winked and Eddie blushed again. Goddamn it, Eddie, stop it!

Richie noticed the pink blush running across Eddie’s cheeks and his heart fluttered at the thought that maybe Eddie liked the way he flirted with him. Richie was horrible at showing his emotions, especially emotions that were deemed wrong by society. He never thought, as feminine as Eddie was, that he could ever like Richie back. He still tried his hardest to tease him into realizing it. Maybe it was easier that way, if it was unspoken, then he wouldn’t have to admit it to himself either. Maybe they could both know and no one would have to say anything. They would just know.

“Seriously, thank you, Rich. All jokes aside, I appreciate you.”

“Just say you love me, no need to sugar coat it, Eds.”

Eddie smiled and rolled his eyes, “Oh shut up!” He shoved him playfully and as Richie fell backwards onto his bottom, he grabbed ahold of Eddie’s hand and pulled him toward him. Their foreheads smacked together and their breaths mingled briefly. Richie’s glasses went crooked and his heart leaped and his palms began to sweat. Eddie was frozen in place, his hand still gripped tightly in Richie’s.

“Uhhh, I-I-,” Eddie went to speak and stammered nervously and for some reason Richie was overwhelmed with the urge to kiss him and so he did.

Eddie was stiff for a moment, wide eyed and confused. He relaxed almost instantly, letting the kiss take over him.

Their hearts were soaring as they pulled away from each other. The kiss was nothing crazy, but the fact that there even was a kiss was enough to send their hearts into overdrive and for their stomachs to flip and twirl and drop and they could have both sworn it was a dream.

“You should let me help you more often.” Richie whispered and Eddie blushed again.

Okay seriously thought I would have had this finished asap so sorry to the anon that I told this would be up within the hour. More like 5 hours😭 I work overnights and my job is never crazy busy, but tonight was ridiculous so I had to stop in between loads of times. But I finished it and I hope the anon who requested this enjoyed it ❤️

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