#so you move to L.A w your boys and start making some Serious money

[yeyinde]

old shane would want us to pirate watcher content

oh, yeah. without any hesitation, either. he'd tell us to rob new Shane and leave his body for the dogs.

[losersclubbitches]

ReaderxLoser(Richie Tozier)

You met Richie Tozier a week after what the Losers deemed “the Clown Incident”. You were messing with your yo-yo as you walked down the sidewalk and suddenly, another yo-yo string entangled with yours.

“Hey, asshole, watch where you’re swinging that thing!” you exclaimed, looking up to further scold whoever it was. You weren’t expecting to look into the deep eyes of a gorgeous pre-teen.

“Damn, rude much?” he spoke, giving you a smile full of huge, crooked teeth.

“Sorry. Not having a particularly good day,” you grumbled, sitting on a nearby bench. The kid sat next to you, since your yo-yos were still connected.

“Tell Granny what’s troubling you, child,” he voiced in what seemed to be an attempt at a sweet old lady voice, but turned out to be more like his regular voice. You laughed, wiping at the tears in your eyes.

“That’s an awful impression,” you informed him.

“So I’ve been told,” he replied. “But seriously, tell me what’s up.”

“I’m just sick of moving ‘cause of my mom’s stupid job. This is the sixteenth city I’ve been to and all of them have been on the stupid East coast. Have you ever been to Florida?” A head shake. “Well, don’t go. It sucks to live there. It’s hot and humid and there are way too many old people pinching your cheeks.” A laugh. “One day, I woke up to an alligator on our front porch! So not cool! And don’t get me started on New Jersey!” You spoke the state’s name in the local dialect. “I just want to move out to L.A.. Somewhere cool. But no. Mom’s stupid job brings her to stupid places like boring Derry, Maine,” you ranted. “No offense.”

“None taken,” the boy replied. “This town sucks major balls. But it’s not boring.”

“Really? What’s the most interesting thing that’s happened here?” you asked. “Little Timmy won a spelling bee?”

“It was a science fair, and no, actually. The weirdest thing that’s happened here was a series of murders every 27 years over the course about a year and a half, give or take,” he told you.

“What? Do they have any idea who’s doing it?” you inquired, eyes widening.

“Well, my friends and I know. It’s an interdimensional shape-shifting alien that feeds off fear and mostly takes the shape of a clown named Pennywise,” the kid informed. His tone was so natural and blank that you thought he was joking.

“Ha ha, asshole. Be serious.” You shoved his shoulder, laughing, but he didn’t laugh back. “Oh, my God, you are serious. That sounds like some shit out-”

“Of a horror movie, yeah,” he finished with you. “But it’s real. And we defeated IT.” You could practically hear the capitalization in his voice.

“Holy shit,” you cursed under your breath. “How’d you do it?”

“Stopped giving IT fear,” he explained. “Took away IT’s food source and sent IT down the well.” You looked at him and noticed tears in his eyes and a tremble in his body. You wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“You wanna talk about it?” you asked. He nodded and you listened as he rambled on about Pennywise and the Losers and Neibolt and a werewolf. When he finished, tears were streaming down his face.

“I don’t wanna fight it again in 27 years,” he sobbed into your shoulder, clenching and unclenching his bandaged hand.

“Look, uh. “You stumbled as you realized you didn’t know his name.

“Richie. Richie Tozier,” he introduced, sticking out his uninjured hand. You shook it.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you stated. “Anyway. Look, Richie, from what you’ve told me, I don’t think IT’ll come back. I think you guys defeated IT.”

“You willing to bet money on that notion, Y/N?” Richie goaded, smirking.

“50 bucks seems fair, Richie Tozier,” you challenged, sticking out your hand again.

“Fair indeed, Y/N Y/L/N.” You two shook on it. Richie’s watch beeped and he checked the time. “Shit. I’m gonna be late. C’mon, Y/N! We’ll figure out the yo-yos when we get there!” Richie pulled you up and dragged you off in the opposite direction of home. You followed willingly and ended up at the edge of a hill, looking down into what you’d heard the locals call “the Quarry”. There was a group of kids sitting at the bottom of the hill. Richie waved to them, then started down the hill. He lost his footing and fell. taking you with him by your tangled yo-yo strings. You both tumbled, head over heels and side over side, down the hill until you got to the bottom. Somehow, seemingly impossibly, the yo-yo strings had become even more knotted up, trapping you and Richie together by your wrists.

“Well, that was exciting!” you exclaimed, sitting up.

“Let’s do it again!” Richie also exclaimed. You looked over and noticed a slight crack in his glasses, which sat askew on his face. You laughed and pulled a leaf from his hair, also readjusting his glasses.

“Are you guys okay?” a boy with curly hair asked.

“I think I bit my tongue. Is it bleeding?” Richie asked you, sticking out his tongue. You leaned forward to examine it.

“Not really. Am I bleeding?” You stuck your arms out toward him like Frankenstein’s Monster. You noticed there was a small stick embedded in your arm about four inches from your wrist.

“Holy shit!” Richie cursed, grabbing your arm. The boy behind him, short with brown hair and eyes, looked over Richie’s shoulder.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” he chanted frantically, grabbing at an inhaler and using it. You instantly knew who he was based on Richie’s story.

“You must be Eddie.”

“Yeah. That’s me,” he confirmed. “Who are you?”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you introduced. “I’d shake your hand, but Richie said you’re a germophobe.”

“What else did he tell you?”

“That doesn’t matter right now, Eddie,” the curly-haired boy quipped. “We need to get that stick out of Y/N’s arm before it gets infected.”

“Thanks, Stan-Man, but I’ve got it.” You pulled the stick from your arm and tossed it into the water. Your arm started to bleed and you placed a thumb over it. “You got any bandaids in that fanny pack of yours, Eds?” you asked. Eddie just stared at you with a look of pure shock and disgust. Stan snapped his fingers in Eddie’s face.

“Focus, Eddie. She’s bleeding out over here.” Eddie flashed back to reality and dug around in his fanny pack until he located a bandaid. He also grabbed out a pack of wet wipes and moved to kneel in front of you.

“I’m gonna clean your arm off so your cut doesn’t get infected,” he explained. You nodded, just wanting to get it over with. Eddie scrubbed at the dirt on and around your contusion and you watched, barely wincing at all. Once the area was cleaned to Eddie’s liking, he unwrapped the bandaid and placed it gently, yet securely, on your arm.

“Thanks, Eds,” you expressed, pressing a kiss yo his cheek. Eddie blushed and Richie squawked offendedly.

“Hey! I saw Y/N first!” he declared. “She’s gonna be my future wife!” You laughed and gripped his hand, the one entangled with yours.

“That’s cute, but we just met. I don’t even know your middle name,” you told him jokingly.

“It’s Wentworth. After my dad,” Richie responded.

“Richie Wentworth Tozier,” you repeated, tasting the name on your tongue. “Cool.”

“Thanks. Now! Dr. K! Fix us up, will ya!” Richie shouted in what you assumed was supposed to be a British Voice. You giggled.

“Richie, shut up,” Eddie groaned. “I’m getting to it. Mike, you’re good with string and knots. Think you can untangle Trashmouth from the innocent bystander unlucky enough as to be wrapped up with him?”

“Hey!” Richie protested, but Eddie and Mike ignored him. Mike examined the knot.

“Yeah. This is easy to undo,” he told Eddie, starting on the string.

“Richie was right. You are as handsome as a magazine man,” you affirmed, winking. Mike blushed and focused back on the knot.

“H-how much d-d-did you t-tell her R-Richie?” asked a kid with auburn hair.

“Relax, Big Bill. I’m great at keeping secrets,” you assured. “Besides, who’s gonna believe me? My mom gets one word about a child-eating, interdimensional, shape-shifting alien and she locks me in the loony bin for brain evals.” All the others looked at Richie in shock and Richie looked sheepish.

“I had to tell someone. Besides, she asked and I needed someone to cry on,” he defended with a shrug.

“He cried?” Stan asked, looking to you.

“He cried,” you affirmed. “Soaked my shirt pretty well.” The others looked between you and Richie skeptically.

“What? I’m a sensitive guy!” Richie protested. Stan snorted.

“Yeah. The resident Trashmouth is a sensitive guy. Mike, you almost got that knot undone?” he asked. Mike gave one more tug and the strings separated, falling from your now red wrists. “You and Richie both rubbed at the abrasions, happy to be apart.

“Thanks, Mikey.” You kissed his cheek as well, earning another squawk from Richie and a slight gasp from Stan.

“It’s like you’re trying to make me jealous,” Richie exclaimed.

“Maybe I am,” you answered teasingly, smirking at him. He squawked again and crossed his arms, turning away from you childishly.

“Uncross your arms, you dope. I need to fix up your wounds,” Eddie scolded, pulling at Richie’s arm. Richie huffed and held his arms out for Eddie to look at. The boy made quick work of cleaning Richie’s arms and face, but when he got even close to the cuts, Richie whimpered and cringed away.

“Stop being a baby and woman up,” you scoffed, earning you a cheer from Beverly. You smiled at her. Richie looked at you with pure surprise and something like love. When Eddie had finished patching Richie up, he did the same thing to you, muttering to himself the whole time. You didn’t flinch, just sat stock still as Eddie bandaged your cuts.

“Perfect. You’re all done, Y/N,” Eddie told you, putting the wet wipes and bandaid wrappers in a plastic bag to throw away later.

“Thanks, Eds.” You kissed his cheek again and he reddened, mumbling a “you’re welcome” as he zipped his fanny pack. You looked at your watch and cursed. “Shit. I gotta go. See you tomorrow?”

“W-we hang o-out a-ah-hat eight every d-day,” Bill told you.

“Cool.” You started to leave, but turned back. “Hey, Rich?”

“Hmm?” he asked, looking up from a cartoon-printed bandaid. You cupped the sides of his face and planted a lingering kiss to his lips. He kissed back, loosely draping his arms over your shoulders. You pulled back and smiled at him.

“Thanks for making this town not boring,” you whispered.

“Anytime,” he replied. You turned and left, calling over your shoulder as you did.

“Pick me up tomorrow at eight by the bench!”

***

You hung out with the Losers all summer and beyond. You either swam or hing out at the Quarry most of the summer. When school started, you saw them almost as much, though it was mostly studying in either the clubhouse or one of your houses and complaining about homework and teachers. You and Richie got closer, seeing as after the kiss, you both decided to date. You went on your dates mostly at the arcade and you beat him in Street Fighter, though sometimes you let him win. In high school, you grew even closer to him; you were each other’s first in the backseat of his shitty car on his seventeenth birthday. You watched the other Losers pair off: Ben and Bev, Mike and Stan, and Bill and a girl from his class named Nicole. You figured Bill and Nicole wouldn’t last, as they were going to schools on near opposite sides of the country and Bill was too flighty to be tied down by a long distance relationship. You and Richie, however, were going to the same school; you finally got to go to California and you were happy your boyfriend was going with you.

“So, wait, is Eddie-Spaghetti the only one still single?” Richie asked one day as you all were sitting in the clubhouse; you and Richie sharing the hammock.

“Leave him alone, Rich,” you scolded, noticing Eddie’s red cheeks. About a month ago, Eddie had confided in you about his boyfriend of one year, saying he’d needed the clubhouse for a “special anniversary gift”. He didn’t know how you’d react and had started crying, scared you’d laugh at him or tell the other Losers or even his mother he was  gay. Instead, you’d puled him into your arms and assured him you’d find a way to keep the others out of the clubhouse for as long as he’d need. He’d promised to call you when he was done, just so you’d know. You’d invited the Losers to your house that afternoon for games and Eddie had politely declined, saying he had bunches of homework. He’d smiled at you and you’d smiled back; your own secret language. When he’d called later that night, you’d listened while he talked about what had happened(sparing certain details) throughout the night.

“I’m just saying. It’s senior year and we’ve all found someone,” Richie piped, bringing you out of your thoughts. “Maybe we can set Eddie-Spaghetti up, too. I know a few girls who might be his type.”

“You clearly don’t know my type, then, Trashmouth,” Eddie snipped. The other Losers looked at him.

“Wait, Eddie are you-” Stan was cut off by Richie.

“C’mon, Eds. You don’t even know what they look like,” he started. “You gotta at least see the cover before you judge.” Eddie huffed and stood up, brushing off his shorts and climbing out of the clubhouse.

“Don’t call me Eds, asshole,” he grumbled.

“What’d I say?” Richie asked, looking to you. You just climbed out of the hammock, using Richie as a balance, and left. As you passed him, Stan looked up at you.

“He’s...?” He gestured to Mike and himself subtly. You nodded and bent to kiss his cheek.

“Yeah. He is,” you confirmed. You kissed Mike’s cheek as well before climbing out of the clubhouse. You found Eddie just a few feet away, sat on the ground with his knees to his chest. Before you could even get a word in, he spoke.

“He’s just so oblivious sometimes.”

“I know,” you replied, sitting next to him. “He is my boyfriend, after all.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Eddie joked. You both laughed for a moment before settling.

“You know, Richie’s the only one who didn’t understand your comment, but the others aren’t gonna say anything until you tell them,” you reminded him.

“I guess I’ve just been scared about coming out to people I know. My mom would flip if she knew I’m gay,” Eddie admitted.

“I know, hon. But we’re not like that. You remember when Stan and Mike came out?”

“Yeah. Stan started crying and we all hugged him,” Eddie recalled.

“So what makes you think we’ll do anything less for you. Eddie?” you questioned. Eddied bottom lip quivered as he thought it over and tears dripped down his rosy cheeks. You cooed and pulled him into a hug. Other than maybe Beverly, you were the most protective of the whole group. They were like your kids and crying kids needed comfort. You ran your fingers through Eddie’s soft, brown hair and shushed him gently. Once his tears stopped flowing and his body stopped shaking, he pulled away and looked at you.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he expressed.

“No problem, Eds. You ready?” He nodded and took your hand when you offered it for him to stand up. You led the way back into the clubhouse and Eddie stopped at the bottom of the ladder.

“You guys, I have something to tell you,” he spoke, attracting the attention of the Losers. You climbed back into the hammock and pinched Richie when he opened his mouth.

“Go on, Eds. We’re listening,” you said, smiling at Eddie. Eddie smiled back and took a deep breath.

“I’m gay!” he blurted, starting to ramble. “I’ve known I’m gay for ten years and I have a boyfriend named Nick and I really like him and I really don’t want you guys to hate me.” Tears streaked down his face again and he crossed his arms over his chest, curling in on himself. Beverly stood up from her place in Ben’s lap and rushed over to hug him. The others weren’t far behind.

“Oh, honey, it’s okay,” Bev soothed, smoothing down Eddie’s hair. Richie was sitting stock still, mouth open slightly.

“Close your mouth, babe. You look like a fish,” you told him, pecking the corner of his mouth. That seemed to resonate, because he blinked himself out of his stupor, turning to look at you.

“You knew?” he asked incredulously.

“Yeah. He needed my help to get you guys out of the clubhouse for the day so he could bring his boyfriend here,” you explained.

“Is that why there were candles down here and the place smelled like apples?” You nodded. “What’d they do?” You zipped and locked your lips, throwing away the key.

“I am sworn to secrecy, Richie Tozier,” you replied. Richie smirked.

“I know how to unzip those lips, Y/N Y/L/N,” he teased, leaning forward and capturing your lips. He continued that way until your back hit the hammock and he was between your legs, one hand pressed to your midsection to keep you in place.

“G-g-gross, you g-guys,” Bill chimed.

“Yeah. Get a room,” Stan added. Richie picked you up and you immediately wrapped your legs around his waist. He clambered out of the hammock awkwardly and carried you out of the clubhouse, stopping at the bottom of the ladder first.

“Congrats, Eds. You’re super brave for coming out,” he praised. “But I gotta get a secret out of this one.” He lifted you slightly and you giggled. Needless to say, he tried, but your lips were sealed(about the secret; not much else, though).

***

When IT returned 27 years after you’d first met Richie, you two were married. You still vaguely remembered the Losers, as Derry’s full power didn’t work on you. It was the middle of the day when you got the call and everything came back.

“Y/N, it’s Mike from Derry,” Mike introduced himself.

“Mike, hey. How’s Stan? You two still together?” you greeted.

“Yeah. We are. He’s fine. He’s an accountant here in Derry and I’m the librarian,” Mike told you. There was something in his voice that worried you.

“I’m guessing you didn’t call after 20 years just to chat about jobs with an old friend?” you remarked, wanting to get to the point.

“No, it’s not,” Mike replied. “Is Richie there with you, Y/N?”

“He’s at work, but I can call him, too,” you told Mike, already dialing Richie’s number to add to the call. He picked up on the third ring.

“What’s up, babe? I’m in the middle of a show, but it’s on commercial, so I’ve got a few,” he greeted you.

“Rich, Mike from Derry’s here, too,” you told your husband. “He has some news, baby.”

“Okay.” Richie sounded skeptical. “What’s up?”

“Guys, IT’s back,” Mike said and again you could hear the capitalization in his voice. Your breath hitched and you nearly dropped the phone.

“I really should’ve bet more on that,” Richie joked and you laughed slightly.

“Yeah. I thought IT was dead, Mikey,” you stated.

“So did I. But the killings have started again. They started with the murder of Adrien Mellon and there have been several others so far. We’ve got to kill IT for real this time,” Mike responded.

“Richie, baby are you okay?” you inquired of your husband. After his joke, you only knew he was there because of his heavy breathing.

“Y-yeah. We’ll be there, Mike,” Richie panted. “I gotta get back to the show.” With that, Richie hung up.

“We’ll be there by tomorrow, Mikey,” you told Mike. “Give my best to Stanny.” You hung up as well and started to pack bags for you and Richie and booked the soonest flight for after Richie would get home. When you got to Derry, memories came flooding back to you at once: the bench where you and Richie had first met, the Quarry, your old house, everything. When you saw Bev, you saw her bruises and her shaky way of talking about her so-called “wonderful husband”. You pulled her into the girls’ bathroom.

“Bev, I know you’re lying,” you told her. “Tom isn’t a good husband.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Y/N,” Bev protested.

“Look, Bev. I can see the bruises on your arms. The boys can, too, but they’re not gonna say anything,” you countered. Bev sighed heavily, tears dripping down her face.

“I don’t know. I married someone who treats me how I deserve,” she admitted.

“Bevvy, I’m calling bullshit on that. There’s a good man out there who’ll treat you like you really deserve: a goddamned princess,” you refuted. Bev gave you a confused look. “Ben, hon. He’s been in love with you since we were eleven. January Embers.”

“I thought Bill wrote that poem,” Bev gasped you shook your head. Bev smiled, hugged you, and left the bathroom. You smiled and then dragged in Stan. He looked very uncomfortable.

“Stan, I know you have concerns about facing IT again,” you started. Stan cringed.

“What makes you say that?” he asked.

“First of all, you cringe when anyone even starts to mention IT.” Another cringe. “And you’ve been so nervous you haven’t eaten. So go home, take a calm, warm shower, and don’t worry about us. We’ll be fine,” you instructed.

“But what are you gonna tell Mike and the others?” Stan inquired.

“I’ll tell them the truth: I’m taking your place. Now, send Eddie in, please. We need to talk, too.” A minute later, Eddie was in front of you, looking just as uncomfortable as Stan, if not more.

“What’s up, Y/N?” he asked, eyes shifting awkwardly.

“You’re gay,” you told him, ignoring his squawk. “You’re gay, so why did you marry a woman?”

“I.” Eddie paused, unsure. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted.

“Exactly. And do I even need to bring up the fact that you basically married your mom?” you pointed out. Eddie shook his head.

“What do I do?” he questioned.

“Break up with her and live with us,” you offered. “Don’t go back after this, just send her the papers. We’ll take care of you.”

“Thank you, Y/N.” Eddie hugged you tightly.

“No problem, baby boy.”

You defeated IT for good this time and everyone survived and moved into the same neighborhood as you and Richie were in. Bill finally finished a novel properly, Ben and Bev got married and had two kids, Stan and Mike adopted, and Eddie married a man named Tyler and adopted a Pomeranian, which freaked Richie out at first. All in all, life was good and everyone got the ending they deserved.

@gracelynns, I hope you liked it! Feel free to request anything else, I love writing for y’all!