#somethings wrong but the doors locked so they cant get in and richies about to break the fucking glass door when eddie comes barreling out

[allthatdivides2]

my brain telling me to go back to reading reddie fic 24/7 by making me dream about them last night

[thorniest-rose]

reddie halloween prompt #5 undead

On the sixth night of the third week after they destroy IT, Richie returns to Eddie.

The Losers all try to stop him. On that first night back at the Town House, Eddie breaks down at the bar, telling them that there had to be a way. That there must be a spell in one of Mike’s books that could reverse what had happened. That they at least had to try.

“He died by mystical means... that means we can bring him back,” he begs, while they all look at him pitifully. Even Stanley, who had understood Richie in a way the others never could, turns his face away.

“Think about what you’re saying, Eddie,” Ben says, eyes dark and wounded as he cradles a glass of whiskey. “People aren’t supposed to come back like that. It could go wrong."

“He’s gone, baby,” Bev agrees softly, placing her hand on Eddie's arm so gently it hardly feels like anything at all. It was nothing like Richie’s rough, boisterous touch. “We all have to accept that and move on.”

But Eddie was unshakeable, inconsolable.

He won't let himself be pulled into Bev's hug, and he refuses to take part in the ritualistic sharing of memories. Reminiscing about bug-eyed glasses and skinned knees; about the plethora of voices, or the way Richie had once held a baseball bat so bravely. The little monster slayer. Instead all Eddie could think about was the body that was currently on ice in Derry's small morgue down the street. The body that had once been Richie's, until the clown tore a hole through his chest. Right now his lips were probably turning blue. 

The thought has Eddie staggering from the bar with tears stinging his eyes, ignoring the Losers as they call out to him, so he can lock himself away in Richie’s room. In the dark he peels out of his clothes and folds himself into a clean t-shirt from Richie’s bag. It’s an old tour shirt from 2012 and it’s so big on Eddie it almost swallows him whole. 

For a single, overwhelming moment Eddie wishes he really could be swallowed up, that he'd chosen to stay down in the sewers with Richie’s body. That they had disappeared into the earth together. 

But instead he was here. And all he could do was ache as Richie's body started to slowly disintegrate down in the morgue.

Eddie doesn’t know how much time passes before Bill comes to him. Bill, who knocks on Eddie's door until he answers, wrapped in Richie's t-shirt and nothing else.

After a second's hesitation Eddie invites him in, and the two men stand by the door, the silence between them growing like a cancer, until Bill reaches out and places his hand on Eddie’s tear-sticky cheek.

“I need to tell you something,” he says, voice on the verge of his old stutter. “I need you to know that I love you. I always did, even when we were kids. And I can’t have you leave without you knowing that.”

And Eddie would be lying if he said he didn’t consider it. That he didn’t consider letting Bill press him down to the mattress and spread his thighs open. That for a moment he didn’t think about how it would feel for Bill to open him up. First with his fingers, and then his cock. To push inside him in the way Eddie had always daydreamed about as a boy with his bed sheets bunched up between his legs. Maybe Bill could help fill the emptiness that Eddie had felt opening up inside him from the moment they left the sewers.

But then he thinks of Richie’s body, how he looked when he died, what he said, and he pulls away. Out of Bill's warm embrace and back to the bed, the sheets still creased with the imprint of Richie’s slumbering body.

Eddie fixes his eyes on the bed and says, "It doesn’t matter, because I don’t love you."

Behind him he can almost feel the way Bill’s face falls. Can almost feel the hurt noise Bill makes in his own throat.

“Okay,” Bill says shakily. "You need time, I understand that. Maybe we should talk about this again tomorrow."

Sorrow makes Eddie's tongue sharp as he looks over his shoulder and says, “I don’t need time. I need Richie. And I sure as hell don’t need you. You're half the man Richie ever was."

The look on Bill's face feels like a knife, but he can't bring himself to care. All he wants is to be left alone and a moment later he is, as Bill slips out the door as quietly as he walked in. Richie would never have done that, Eddie thinks. He would have made a racket. He would never take no for an answer.

Richie had been the only person who'd never treated Eddie like he was made from glass.

Later, in the dead patch of night just after 3am, Eddie pulls on a pair of jeans and leaves the Town House. He leaves behind most of his things: his clothes, his pills, his toiletries. Suddenly, nothing really matters. Not his last Valium, and not the pot of moisturizer that cost more than Myra’s entire make-up cabinet. Definitely not the sad little life that marked his entire childhood in Derry. He doesn’t even leave a note to say goodbye. 

Before heading to the airport he breaks into Mike’s room above the library to rifle through all the books the man had collected over the years. Half wrecks the place to find what he needs, the spell that will bring Richie back. When he finds it he makes a noise he doesn’t recognise, something like a sob but also a groan. Half desperate, half wild. He clutches the book so hard he almost rips the page.

A frantic Mike emerges in the doorway just as Eddie turns to leave. His eyes dart down to the book clasped in his arms and they grow shockingly wide.

“Eddie, stop. Think about what you’re doing.”

“You can’t stop me,” Eddie says, pressing the book tighter to his chest, against the stupid t-shirt with Richie’s cartoon face. 

“You need to put the book down. You’re not thinking right. You can’t do this, sweetheart, Richie wouldn’t want you to.”

The sound of Richie’s name breaks through the haze. A second later Eddie’s pulling the gun out of his back pocket. The one he had found hidden in Mike’s old things.

He points it at his old friend and says, “Don’t tell me what Richie would want.”

Mike’s hands dart up. “Eddie-”

"Don’t talk,” Eddie snaps. “And if you come near me I’ll kill you. I’m not joking, I’ll do it."

“Please don’t do this,” Mike says. “This isn’t like you. You’re exhausted, and you’re angry. I understand, and all I want to do is help you. But please put the gun down.”

Eddie doesn’t put the gun down but he does cock it, even with his fingers trembling.

“Don’t tell me what to do. All my life people have only ever told me what to do.”

“You’ll regret it,” Mike says quietly. “You think you can just snap your fingers and bring him back? Things like this always require a price.”

But Eddie won’t be swayed. Not now.

“Step away from the door,” he says. "And don’t even think about coming after me. I’m done with this fucking cemetery of a town and I’m done with you.”

As soon as Mike steps aside, Eddie rushes past him, the book to his chest. He makes sure not to look at Mike’s face. At the hurt and disappointment etched there.

In the cold night air outside, Eddie hardly feels the tears on his face.

Eddie leaves Maine for the last time that morning on the first flight to New York.

When he emerges in the airport, Myra comes to him, her face swimming in tears, her chest heaving. She clasps Eddie to her, cooing over him, telling him how worried she was, how she had called the police, that she thought he was dead. And usually Eddie would feel contrite, would try to comfort her, but all he feels is that emptiness inside him grow. 

Eddie can’t wait. The next day he completes the ritual when Myra is out food shopping. He spreads the red sand in a wide circle on their plush cream carpet and sprinkles the crushed animal bones in each key place. In the middle of the circle he places Richie’s glasses, still smudged with his blood. Then he recites the incantation from the book, not once stumbling over the strange words.

Myra finds him an hour later, passed out on their bed, a huge crimson stain half scrubbed out of the living room carpet, and demands to know what happened. But Eddie only mumbles that he can’t remember.

That afternoon Myra makes an appointment with one of the top therapists in Manhattan, saying her husband was suffering from a severe bout of melancholy.

There's no sign of Richie that day, or on the next, or the next. Eddie thought Richie would have magically appeared after the ritual. He’d expected lights and noise, like in a magician’s show, and that in a big puff of smoke Richie would be restored. But nothing happened. And maybe, Eddie thinks as cries into his pillow, he doesn't deserve it. He’d only ever been cruel and callous to Richie, maybe he doesn't deserve to get him back at all.

He waits and he dreams. Every night as he lies next to Mya, he dreams about Richie for the first time in years. He dreams of the two of them as children, touching hands and sharing ice-cream; and as teenagers driving around in Richie’s old truck, his legs draped over Richie’s lap as the other boy ghosted his fingers over his calves. And he dreams of a life they never had. Of first kisses, and love confessions, and slow bursts of love making during that sleepy time of morning when the sky turns milky just before dawn.

Every morning he wakes up with wet cheeks. And the emptiness continues to grow.

Over the next few days Eddie gets quieter and more withdrawn. He stops going to work and he doesn’t swallow any of the pills that Myra tries to force on him, spitting them into the toilet as soon as he can get away from her. She’s worried about him, he knows that, but he can’t bring himself to care.

He also doesn't care about all the missed phone calls from the Losers, or the string of texts and voice messages begging him to reconsider, telling him to call. He half types a text to Bev saying, when will it start to feel better? It didnt work anyway, i guess i cant do anything right but it lies half-written on his phone for two days before he deletes it. In the end he blocks their numbers and throws his phone into his bedside drawer.

But then, towards the end of the third week, Eddie wakes up and something feels off. 

He can’t describe it, he just feels strange. Tense, the way he always felt before running. And slightly sick. That morning he finds himself watching the news as he chews on his thumbnail. A nervous little tick he hasn’t fallen back into since his late 20s. But there’s no impending catastrophe, no signal of anything ominous. He even scans the local Derry news on his iPad but finds nothing of note beyond a couple of farm cows found brutalised, torn open, their guts hanging out. A local nut job was blamed and arrested. 

Just as he’s about to put the iPad down and make his egg-white omelette for breakfast, his eyes catch on a small story: a break-in at the Derry morgue. It’s dated as the same week that the Losers were in Derry, just two days after he disappeared. He realises, with a quiver, that it was the day after the incantation, the ritual to bring Richie back. 

Eddie places his iPad down and goes to the bathroom, where he sits in the bath in the way he did as a child, when he was trying to calm the panic attack he felt growing under his skin. He sits there until he feels like his heart isn’t about to burst out of his skin and can go about his day again.

It doesn’t mean anything, he says to himself. Break-ins happen all the time. It doesn’t mean anything at all.

That evening he makes a simple dinner of grilled chicken and asparagus with a white wine sauce. But he can hardly eat. That feeling of unease had stayed with Eddie all day, and as the sky darkened outside it had only grown. Crawling up his throat, seizing his stomach, until he was choking on it.

Across the table he can hear Myra talking, but she’s muffled, like she’s talking underwater. 

“A man was killed just a few blocks from us, Eddie, did you hear? It’s awful, apparently he was found ravaged, torn open.”

“Oh,” Eddie murmurs. 

Myra frowns. “Are you even listening?”

And Eddie isn’t, but he nods his head.

After he’s pushed his food around his plate for a few more minutes, Eddie tells Myra he needs some fresh air, and before she can argue he slips out into the garden. 

He ducks around the veranda outside. When he’s sure he’s completely hidden, he pulls a crumpled pack of cigarettes out his pocket. They’re not his, of course, they’re Richie’s. A pack he’d taken from his room at the Town House when he left that night. He hasn’t been able to smoke one yet, has only lifted one to his lips when Myra wasn’t around so he could pretend to taste Richie’s lips on it. But he suddenly wants to smoke one now, lighting it quickly so he can take a puff. The first one he’s ever taken. He hopes it’ll help him feel closer to Richie. But all it does is make his eyes water instantly and fill his throat with an acrid burn, bending him forwards to retch. It’s disgusting.

Eddie throws the cigarette away and crushes it into the ground with a grimace, wondering how Richie did that every single day. How that could ever be enjoyable. 

But Richie had always been an excruciating anomaly, even when they were kids.

As he turns to walk back into the house, planning to go straight to the bathroom and wash the taste of smoke out of his mouth, the back of his neck prickles. Like he’s being watched. Eddie whips around, expecting to see a figure at the end of his yard. Maybe a dark silhouette half-hidden by the trees. But there’s nothing there. Not a flutter of a bird. Not the bright eyes of a cat skulking in the hedge. Nothing. And after a moment, Eddie swipes a hand over the back of his neck and makes his way back into the house. 

Inside, Myra asks him what’s wrong, that he looks like he’s seen a ghost. The saying makes Eddie laugh, forcing out a strange, high-pitched noise that has her reeling back in her chair. But Eddie doesn’t stick around to apologise. He walks out of the kitchen and collapses into bed, suddenly exhausted. 

He thinks of the text he’d half-written to Bev. When will it start to feel better? And a voice that sounded exactly like Pennywise's rings in his head. Never, Eddie baby! Haven’t you realised that? It never gets better!!

A noise wakes Eddie up that night. He’d only fallen into a shallow sleep, so the noise is enough to make him bolt up in bed, his heart racing. Next to him, Myra snores heavily, almost eclipsing the noise from downstairs, but Eddie’s ears still prick up, seeking out the source of the noise. He hears it again: the tinkle of broken glass, followed by a loud crunch, like someone is walking over it.

Fear makes Eddie recoil back against the headboard. But he can't ignore it. He slips out of bed and into the hallway, peering into the dark downstairs. After a moment, he swallows the sick feeling in his mouth and descends the stairs, feeling much too like a young woman from a gothic horror film.

It’s cold down in the hallway, and he quickly realises it’s because the front door is open. He pauses by the stairway, his body going taut. No, the door wasn’t open. It was broken, hanging flimsily from its hinges, shards of glass and wood on the floor. 

But there was more too: smudged, muddy footprints tracking from the front door into the hallway, like someone had broken down the door and dragged their feet inside. 

Eddie’s trying to mentally catalogue how far the phone is, how long it’ll take him to dart into the living room and call the police to report a break-in when the back of his neck prickles again. Behind him he hears the heavy exhale of someone breathing.

He spins around fast, heartbeat ratcheting up like a series of gunshots, and that’s when he sees him. Richie. Standing in the doorway to the kitchen watching him. 

"Richie," he gasps.

And it was Richie, somehow. Despite the blue tinge to his skin, and the black tracing of veins skittering down his neck and arms. Even though he didn’t have his glasses, and his clothes lay in filthy shreds around his arms and legs, revealing large tantalising glimpses of the thick muscles at his thighs, the tendons popping like lines of rock on his arms. He’d look like a centrefold ripped from a woman's magazine if it wasn’t for the mud streaking down his legs and the scabbed chest wound dissecting his chest, right where the clown had pierced him. 

“Eddie,” Richie says thickly, like his throat is clogged with dirt. “I’m here.”

“What...” Eddie stumbles, breath hitching. “What are you doing here?”

And he knows it’s a stupid question, but he doesn’t know what else to say. Because he feels like he’s about to pass out, the pulse at his neck frozen in fear.

“I came back for you,” Richie says. And his eyes are so shockingly blue. Bluer than they had ever been when he was alive. So blue they were almost silver, electrifying the air. 

Eddie thinks, All the way here? From Derry?

“But you’re dead,” he murmurs. 

But Richie shakes his head. “I’m not. Or at least not anymore. I remember the sewers. The clown. And then nothing. Blackness. Until I was pulled out... by you.”

Eddie feels faint. “By me?” 

Richie nods, and starts walking towards him. As he does, the smell hits Eddie. It’s a damp smell, like a puddle of water, or the smell at the bottom of a well. Like mud left behind after a downpour of rain. And beneath that the faint smell of rot, like fruit that had started to turn bad in the basement.

“Yes, by you,” Richie says. “Your voice, it pulled me out of the dark. You were calling to me. I woke up and I knew I had to find you again. That I couldn’t rest until I did.”

The spell, Eddie thinks drunkenly as Richie comes close, it had worked. 

“Richie,” he moans, feeling everything well up inside him. Everything he had repressed over the last three weeks. The grief. The rage. The yearning. All surging and crashing over him where he’d forced himself to go numb. It overtakes him completely, and Eddie thinks he might fall to the floor. 

He starts to cry as he says, "Richie, I did everything I could. I wanted to save you. But the clown, it was too much. You were already gone and I coudn't- and I wanted to die too, I just wanted to curl up and fucking die-"

Richie shushes him, hand coming up to curl in the hair at the back of his head.

"You did save me, baby, don't you see? I'm only here now because of you."

That’s when Eddie notices the red staining on Richie’s chest. He blinks. And suddenly he remembers the story of the dismembered cows, how their blood had been drained. And the murder Myra had mentioned. The man a few blocks down. He had been found gutted, torn open from his sternum to his groin. How his viscera had been missing.

And Eddie realises it’s not staining at all. It’s a thick layer of gore splattered over his chest hair. His hands are mattered in it too, all the way to his wrists, like he’d sunk his hands into something and pulled out the meat.

“Richie,” he says. “What have you done?”

They’re interrupted by the creak of the bottom stair, and Myra’s voice as she calls out, “Eddie, what’s going on? Eddie, are you all right? I heard voices.”

“Myra,” he says, turning to see her staring in shock at their broken front door.

"Myra, don't-"

But that's when she sees Richie. This strange man standing in her hallway with muddy feet and blood on his chest. With his blue skin and black veins and strange silver eyes.

She starts to scream.

Richie is on her in an instant. He rushes past Eddie, pushing him to the wall as he dashes down the hallway. He knocks Myra down to the floor and as she opens her mouth on a fresh scream, his teeth land at the skin of her neck, tearing it open. He rips her apart, first at her throat, her screams gurgling thick with blood, and then at her chest. His hands come down and he rips her apart like she's nothing more than cellophane. Once she's split open, Richie dips his head down and feasts on her blood and bone. He looks like a starved, feral animal gorging itself on a bounty, and the noises he makes as he rips the meat from the pulsing cavity at her chest isn’t human. Eddie realises, faintly, that he’s eating Myra’s heart, that the blood dripping down his chin is from her arteries, and he trembles.

Mike’s words ring in his head. Things like this always require a price.

Myra dies quickly, her screams stuttering out, eyes going glassy, but Richie doesn’t stop eating for a long time.

Terror roots Eddie to the spot. He can’t run, he can’t scream. He can only lean back against the wall and stare. At the thing that used to be his best friend, the man he loved, eat his wife open from the inside.

The next thing he knows, Richie is rising, and he’s coming towards Eddie, a blue fire raging in his eyes. Eddie tries to scramble away, but Richie’s too fast for him, and the two men tumble to the floor in a tangle of limbs.

Richie presses him to the floor, his mouth at Eddie’s neck, weight crushing him down, and Eddie thinks, This is it. This is always how it was going to end.

But Richie doesn't kill him. He doesn’t tear his throat out or drink his blood. Instead Richie kisses him. Presses the softest, sweetest kiss to the base of his neck.

“I love you, Eddie,” he whispers when he pulls back, eyes bright, mouth clotted with gore. “I love you and I came back for you.”

Eddie blinks up at him, his chest heaving. He thinks dizzily, Richie, it’s really you. And before he can stop himself, his hands are flying up to grab Richie by the shoulders and he's pulling the other man down. Their mouths meet in a fierce clash of lips and teeth, more a bite than a kiss, Richie's tongue stabbing into him. And even though Eddie winces at the thick taste of Myra’s blood, at the hint of decay in his mouth, he still tastes so much like Richie that Eddie throbs.

“I waited for you,” he pants in the short gap between their lips. “I waited so long.”

“I’m here,” Richie says hotly. “I’m here and I’m never leaving you alone again.”

And Eddie had imagined what their first time would be like at countless moments over the last few weeks. If it would be fast or slow. If Richie would be rough with him or gentle. But he never thought it would be anything like this, with Richie tearing his clothes off him and touching every inch of his skin. He never knew Richie would look like this, with this dark, hungry expression, as he thumbs Eddie’s nipples to sore pink peaks and sucks a huge, dark bruise over his heart. He never thought Richie would act so desperately, as his hand disappears between Eddie’s legs to open him up, fingers wet with spit and blood. Eddie never knew it would feel this much like being claimed, like being consumed

When Richie pushes inside him, shoving his filthy jeans down and pulling Eddie’s hips up so he can slot his cock against Eddie’s small opening, it hurts. Eddie’s never had a man inside him before, and it hurts so much. It’s agony. Richie’s hard cock tearing up into him in a searing, insistent push. But Eddie still arches his back off the floor, trying to get every inch of Richie inside him, feeling the white-hot pain sealing up all the numb, dead spots inside him. Richie fucks him like that, like they’re animals, hard into the floor as he growls against him. He ruts against Eddie, pushing his cock as deeply as it can go on every thrust, Eddie’s pained moans never slowing him. He fucks Eddie like he’s trying to disappear inside him, and the thought only makes Eddie harder, makes him cum fast as he whines like a broken toy.  

In the distance a phone rings. But Eddie can’t hear it. Because between the taste of Richie in his mouth, and the feel of his cock, he can’t bring himself to care. And as Richie sinks his cold teeth into Eddie’s bottom lip and groans, "You're mine, you’re fucking mine," Eddie finally feels okay. He feels something like peace. For the first time in 27 years he's right where he needs to be.

[softest-cinnamon-roll]

F6 +A3?😊

(not sure this is what you expected, but there you go anyway anon! Notsfw under the cut!)

* * * * *

When Eddie had been told by his father that they were going to be welcoming the King, Queen and Prince from their neighbouring Kingdom, he had been less than pleased about it. He had heard all about the elusive Prince Richard, and how he was not only a womaniser, but he was also very crude when it came to personal matters. His mother seemed to agree with him, not wanting to open their kingdom up to scrutiny and bad publicity, but his father had been adamant that they came to visit. After all, King Wentworth was a long-time friend of his.

The thing was, Eddie had never actually seen Prince Richard in person. All he had to go on was the rumours from the staff as well as what his father had told him about. Richard was the same age as him, a few months older. He sported dark curls on his head and his eyes were a chocolate brown colour. He was also apparently really tall and lanky. Before Eddie had even met the other Prince, he had made up a list of assumptions on how he was the wrong person to be seen spending time with.

It was about five minutes after actually speaking to the Prince in person, that Eddie realised just how wrong he was.

Ever since Eddie was born, his mother was breathing down his neck, stopping him from taking part in activities that were considered normal for a Prince, just in case he was injured. No amount of arguing from his father would budge her on that matter; so as Eddie had grown, he had become accustomed to sneaking out of the palace and seeking refuge in the woods where he could practice climbing, sword fighting and other activities his mother deemed ‘dangerous’.

It was on one of these adventures that Eddie was accidentally introduced to Prince Richard. He was half way up a tree when someone cleared their throat from below and Eddie looked down. At first, he thought he had been caught, but when his eyes landed on someone he had never seen before, he rolled his eyes.

“Can I help you?” Eddie called down, placing his footing so he could swing up and over one of the stronger branches. Now that he was sitting, legs swinging in the air he looked down once more to get a better look at whoever interrupted his alone time. “Who are you?”

The man just smiled up at Eddie, moving forward so he was leaning against the trunk of the tree, “You can call me Richie, you Highness.” Eddie’s jaw dropped a little and his eyes narrowed. It didn’t take long for it to fall into place, that this ‘Richie’ was in fact Prince Richard himself.

“How did you know who I was? You’ve never seen me before,” Eddie questioned, glad he was up high so that Richard couldn’t see the flush appearing on his cheeks. No-one thought to tell him that regardless of all Richard’s flaws, he was actually rather handsome looking.

Richard chuckled, shaking his head, “It doesn’t take a genius. I was told Prince Edward was on the shorter side, blonde hair and baby blue eyes. Not very many people fit that description around here. Oh and you’re also wearing the crest of the royal family, dead giveaway.”

Eddie swung his legs more, tilting his head to the side. Already one of the rumours about the Prince being uneducated had a large red line through it. “Can I ask you something, Prince Richard?” He asked, smirking as Richie blinked in shock that Eddie knew who he was also. “Are you anything like people make you out to be?”

“What do you mean?” Richie asked, running a hand through his curls. “If you’re referring to my countless bedding of women, as well as my party habits and crude language, I have but one answer for you, Your Highness. Never judge a book by its cover.” He started to move around the tree, and Eddie followed him with his eyes, quiet and curious. “You know, I’ve heard rumours about you too, but I think that they are all wrong considering the fact of where you currently are.”

“What have you heard about me?” Eddie asked, slowly moving back to the trunk of the tree and climbing his way down. When he placed his feet on solid ground, Eddie realised just how tall Prince Richard was in comparison to him. “What do they say about me?”

Richie pursed his lips, “They say you’re a mother’s boy, uncultured, too fragile to do any real work. They say you never leave the palace and yet…here you are. Climbing trees.” The prince then took another step forward, crowding Eddie against the tree. “I guess we were both wrong in our assumptions of each other. Shall we start over?”

Eddie nodded his head. “I’m Eddie. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Richie, and believe me, your highness. The pleasure is all mine.”  

* * * * *

“Richie, oh fuck, Richie…” Eddie gasped, tugging firmly on Richie’s hair as he was backed up against the wall in the hallway, Richie’s hand down his pants. They were out in the open, where anyone could turn around and spot them, but that wasn’t something that Richie seemed bothered by. “Richie- so-someone could see us,”

Richie pulled away, a grin on his face, “Oh come on, Your Highness, where is your sense of adventure?” he asked, squeezing the base of Eddie’s cock with his hand, making the younger man jump and hold back a moan. “God I want to get under those clothes so badly, Eds. You’re a fucking wet dream.”

Swallowing a gasp, Eddie tugged on Richie’s hair to pull him a little closer, “Then maybe- maybe we should go back to your quarters then.” He watched Richie’s reaction, the way his eyes widened in shock before he smirked and nodded his head, pulling him down the corridor in the direction of his quarters.

Richie and his parents had been in Eddie’s Kingdom for ten weeks now, and in those ten weeks the two of them had done from acquaintances, to friends and now to lovers. The whole thing was giving Eddie whiplash, but he couldn’t care. The way Richie made him feel when they were together overcame any other thought he might have had.

As the door to Richie’s room flew open, the two of them stumbled in, lips locked together in a passionate kiss and hands roaming all over as they tried to get out of their clothes. Richie kicked the door closed with his foot and a moment later Eddie was being pushed up against the wall, Richie’s hands up his shirt. “God, Eds…you’re so beautiful…”

A flush built up on Eddie’s cheeks and he kissed Richie more forcefully, managing to wrangle his shirt up and over his head, tossing it to the ground at their feet. He knew just from the heat of the room and the rushed touches that it wasn’t going to last long, and they didn’t have the supplies they needed to go any further, but it was something. “Touch me, Richie…come on.”

At the sound of his desperate plea, Richie slowed down his movements, caressing over the skin of Eddie’s, now bare, stomach in a teasing manner. “What do you say?” He asked and Eddie groaned, moving his hand to deal with his problem on his own. The hand didn’t get far however, as Richie wrapped his free hand around Eddie’s wrists, pinning his hands above his head. “Keep em there,” he warned.

In a second, Richie’s hands were gone and he was dropping to his knees in front of Eddie, pulling down his pants and taking him into his mouth in one go. Eddie closed his eyes, a whine leaving his lips as he kept his hands were they were above his head. All he could do to urge Richie on was to cant his hips forward into his mouth occasionally, earning him a pinch to the thigh from Richie’s fingers.

“Rich- Rich m’gonna come,” Eddie breathed, feeling that coil in his stomach as Richie bobbed his head faster, gripping Eddie’s hips tight. He looked down, meeting Richie’s eyes as the other Prince nodded once. A few moments later, Eddie was coming hard down Richie’s throat, hands moving into his hair to ground himself. “Fuck- Fuck oh my god.”

With a pop, Richie pulled off and wiped his mouth, grinning up at Richie. “Did I blow your mind, Your Highness?” He asked and Eddie shoved him backwards. “You don’t have to worry about me either, I came in my pants like a fucking teenager.”

Once they were all cleaned up, the two of them snuggled up on Richie’s bed, holding onto each other close. This was the only time they could do this, when there was no-one watching. There was no possible way that the two of them could be together. After all, they were both the only heirs to their respective Kingdoms. “I think I’m falling in love with you, Richie…” Eddie breathed after a while. “And I’m scared.”

Richie looked into his eyes, moving a hand to cup his cheek, “I’m scared too, because I feel the exact same. I am falling for you too. Don’t worry though, one day, we’ll be able to be together. I promise.”

Eddie just smiled, relishing in the moment, unable to breathe the words that were plaguing his mind.

Don’t make promises you’re unable to keep.

* * * * *

@3tothe1 @anellope @annxmatron @appojoos @are-you-reddie-for-it @atownofeggs @beepbeeprichiellc @bi-bi-richie @billdenbrough @bitchbrak @callmechee @dadbodrichie @derrylosers @disneyfan567 @eddiekaspprak @eds-trashmouth @eduardoandale @girasol-eddie @gloire-celeste @halfway-happy353 @hawkinsbabe @inthebreadbinwrites @itfandomprompts @its-stranger-than-you-think @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @kat-ships-everything @lifesucksheres20bucks @loserslibrary @losers-gotta-stick-together @madi-artist @mars-14 @marsisaplanetyall @moonlightrichie @nancynwheeler @no-she-wasnt-reddie @oldguybones @pattysblum @photoboothreddie @pink-psychic @purplepoisonedgem @queen-sock @ransonelovebot @rebecca-the-queen @reddie-for-anything @reddie-to-cryy @reddieforlove @reddiesetandgo @richietoaster @roobarrtrashmouth @rreddies @s-onora @s-s-georgie @sashadrowned @sedanleystanley @sloppybitchreddie @sparklingrainbowdragon @spirited-marvel @stellarbisexual @studpuffin @takeourpure @that-weird-girls-blog @thegoshdiddlydangdoor @thejadeazalea @thorn-harvester-ven @tinyarmedtrex @tozier-boy @tozierking @toziesque @trashmouthtozierr @twoidiotsinl0ve @ultrapaninibred @vanity190 @violetreddie @virgo-luthie @wilding-throught-thehallways @xandertheundead 

[beepbeepliv]

I know you said It ships but could you write something henclair, with its all my fault. pretty please 💕

I love to fuck with my favourite characters and Dustin is a fave so I apologise babe

Dustin gets spiked. Sorry for the shitty ending... i remembered it was supposed to be a drabble TW: super vague mentionsof intent to rape

“I won’t go, if you don’t want me to,” Dustin said, for thefifth time, glancing back at where he knew Lucas was stood, just staring. Heshook out of his daze and shrugged.

“No, go! You should go! I’m just… not sure about him.” Hesaid, still confused within himself at why he didn’t want Dustin going out. They’dbeen together for 4 years, he knew the younger boy would not be leaving him forthis guy, but he still felt off about the whole thing.

“Dude, his father is a director. He said he saw potential in me. I can’t pass that up!” Dustincontinued, putting down his comb and getting up from the dresser to approachwhere Lucas was still stood, crossed armed.

“I know, babe, I know.” He replied, pulling Dustin closeonce he was within reach, so they were both pressed against the wall, “I know...I can’t help if I worry about you,”

“I’ll be fine! I’ll text you the whole way. If he triesanything. I’ll bite him, and Dart will sense my pain and come running,” Almoston cue Dart started howling from his cage, Lucas smiled over at him fondly andDustin heart swelled at the amount of love Lucas had for Dart.

(He had squealed the first time he met him. “Oh my God. Hethinks he’s a wolf! Dustin, I love him,”)

Dustin still saw a bit of worry in Lucas’ expression.

“Fake dating someone isn’t the worst thing I’ve ever done,”Dustin murmured, then he growled, trying to lighten the mood, and it workedbecause Lucas’ concerned expression morphed into disgust. He pushed Dustin onthe shoulder and turned to walk away when he was caught by the waist and pulledback. Lucas struggled, trying not to concede too quickly.

“Boys who growl don’t deserve boyfriends,” He yelledobnoxiously

“No! baby, don’t leave me I’m sorry.” Lucas finally laughed,spinning around in his boyfriend arms, he placed his hands on Dustin’sshoulders.

“How sorry?” he asked cheekily.

“ooh, let me show you,” Dustin replied, wiggling hiseyebrows, Lucas rolled his eyes but kissed him anyway.

 He obviously didn’t go to the door when Dylan came around topick Dustin up, they could have played it like he was a roommate but Lucasdidn’t need any reason to feel jealous and do something stupid like kiss Dustinto assert his masculinity. He was fine just watching from the upstairs window.

He did get a text soon after he left

8.33 – Dustin: I toldyou, you were hotter. Nothing to worry about *lennyface*

Lucas couldn’t help his laughter.

“Fucking loser,” he murmured heading to the bedroom, he andDustin had set up a pretty decent fort before he had to leave, and Lucas wasn’tjust going to let it go to waste. He had only seen Black Panther once… thisweek. It was time to watch it again.

He let Dart out and the small husky immediately jumped athim,

“Okay boy, c’mon let’s go watch some black excellence,” heyipped as if he understood and followed him back to the bedroom, settling inbeside him and licking at his face. He laughed and snuggled up close as hepressed play.

Turns out he didn’t have time to feel bad or have anyworried thoughts about Dustin and Dylan because he was getting constant textupdates. At least every 15 minutes.

9.07 – Dustin: You may have to watch your back babe. Dylan’s got anextensive Pokémon collection.

9.07 – Lucas: DnD is better. It’s okay, I’ll date Will

9.10 – Dustin: Don’t you dArE

Lucas giggled and turned to show the messages to dart, whoyapped, recognising the small icon as Dustin. He headbutted the screen.

“Who would get you in the divorce?” he asked, “Me or yourdaddy?”

Dart yapped once. Lucas nodded.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Lucas focused back on thefilm till he felt his phone go off again.

9.23 – Dustin: Damn, Pokémon and a rugby player. Get you a man that doesboth amirite? Why don’t you ever offer me your jersey?

9.25 – Lucas: We don’t have jerseys you idiot, but you can wear mygross basketball shirt anytime!

9.25 – Dustin: mmhmboyfriend sweat. Rawr

Fucking loser, Lucas thought fondly as he led Dart back tohis cage and fed him dinner, he refilled the water bowl before locking him in. Hewould usually let him roam, but he wasn’t currently aware enough to take goodcare of him (Dart fucking loved to escape, and Lucas was too tired to go outsearching – plus it was dark). He didn’t want to fall asleep and wake up andhave him gone. Dustin would genuinely murder him.

He returned to another text.

9.31 – Dustin: he puts pineapple on his pizza. At this point I maynever come back babe byefelicia.gif

Lucas just rolled his eyes, pressing play on the movie. DamnDaniel Kaluuya was nice to look at, even if his character was an idiot.

There wasn’t another text for a while but at this pointLucas wasn’t even worried anymore. He actually felt sorry for Dylan because hewas sure Dustin was spending more time on his phone that paying attention tohim.

10.00 – Dustin: Yikes well he just asked me to come back to his placeto take some headshots for his dad… that sound like a proposition to me…thoughts?

Lucas bit his lip, contemplating, he didn’t want Dustin tomiss out on any opportunities because of him. But he also did not want Dustingoing over to this guys house. He trusted his boyfriend, definitely but hecouldn’t speak for the other guy. He must have been thinking for too longbecause another text came in soon after.

10.03 – Dustin: I’m taking that as a no.,, I thought as much, justwanted to cross check. I’m in the bathroom now so I’ll just go back out, downmy drink and say I have to head home. The fort still up babe?

10.04 – Lucas: I never want to take it down.

10.04 – Lucas: Also… if you really want to go...

10.05 – Dustin: Shut up Lucas. Rollseyes.gif

Lucas sniggers and places his phone down in the bedsidetable. He really, really didn’t want Dustin going home with Dylan – so he washappy. He went downstairs to go refill his popcorn and ran into Stan, one oftheir roommates cleaning up. He held back the urge to roll his eyes. He lovedStan, really – but that boy loved to clean.

Lucas tried his hardest, all the time, he ready did, but he wasstill learning how to live with someone with OCD and wasn’t sure what to do.

“Hey dude, do you wanna come up and watch Shrek with me?” heasked. Stan kept scrubbing – a bit frantically.

“No, No I, uh, I have a date with Richie in 30 minutes,but,” he paused, breathing frantically, “I can’t leave until it’s clean,” hefinished. Lucas nodded, out of his comfort zone. He wished Dustin was here.Dustin was fucking amazing at calming Stan down.

“Okay, I’ll help. We can get this done in like 10!” Lucasoffered, placing the bowl down.

“Really? Thank you, thanks!” Stan shoved some cleaning materialshis way and Lucas chuckled, getting to work on the dishes.

Lucas and Stan manged to clean up in 20 minutes leaving Stan10 to freshen up and get out the door. He was pretty proud of himself. Hesorted his popcorn and ran back up, swearing when he realised he didn’t pauseit.

“Can’t miss Shrek, this film is iconic,” he whispered tohimself, laughing at his own joke. As he rewound the film he noticed his phoneflashing and remembered Dustin. It was coming close to half ten- he was probablytexting to say he was close by. Lucas picked up his phone to check

10.10 – Dustin: Bill paid, walking to the car! Keep the fort warm forme!

10.12 – Dustin: Luca I don’t feel god,,, Cld you make msome soup for,,

10.15 – Dustin: he lockd the doors and im sleep

Lucas’ heart dropped, and he felt his vision tunnel as thesound of the film faded into the background. He must have read that wrong or hewas misinterpreting.

10.15 – Dustin: this isn the way hoe…. Hes not takjin me home. Imscared

This was not happening. This was not happening. Not to Dustin. Not his boy.

10.16 – Dustin: oh my g,

10.16 – Dustin: I think;; he spiked me.

10.16 – Dustin: I thi he spik my coke

Lucas stopped reading the text and looked at the time. Itwas 10.34. This had happened almost 20 minutes ago. He was such a badboyfriend. Anything could be happening. His mind was going wild with possibilities.Anything could be happening. Heneeded to find Dustin and get to him but, no car, they had no car. How could he--?He had to—Steve! Steve had a car. He was a three-minute bike ride away.

Lucas’ mind was made in an instant.

He ran down, stumbling on the stairs and quickly openingSnap-maps to find Dustin. He located him and sped down to Steve’s, it was dangerousbecause he was nervous, his hands were shaking, and he couldn’t really see. Healmost got hit multiple times, but it was worth it for his boy.

He banged on Steve’s door obnoxiously and repeatedly till hecame down. He was in pyjamas, but Lucas didn’t have the heart to make fun ofhim for going to bed to early.

Steve took in his state and expression and his frown lightenedup.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, grabbing his car keys from the standin preparation.

“Dustin—I – I can’t. It’s all my fault, spiked— his drinkgot spiked. We- we need to go. 16 Pembrooke Drive. Steve now, Steve! He spiked him!!Anything could be—he could be— oh god!” Lucas didn’t even know when he begancrying, he was so frustrated and couldn’t believe he was wasting so much time.Dustin had been alone and out of it with the guy for at least half an hour. Whoknows what was happening?

Luckily Steve seemed to understand and nodded solemnly,

“Get in,” he said, beeping the car open and speeding off assoon as they were both in. He inputted the directions into the satnav. Lucas reluctantlywent back to Dustin’s texts

10.13 – Dustin: Sorry, I sosrry, so sorry,. ‘’; I cahkgkn’t

10.13 – Dustin: u wer rit; I sorry ii lovv . I cant ;’kgkjl

“Fuck,” he whispered, feeling more frustrated tears comepouring out, “fucking fuck,” he slammed his hand on the dashboard.

“Lucas, we’ll get there. He’ll be alright.”” Steve said, hisvoice calm and steady, contrasting his death grip on the steering wheel. Lucasdidn’t believe him.

“This is all my fault, I shouldn’t have let him go. Stupid,stupid, stupid,”

“Hey, hey listen up shithead. Did you spike him? No. so stopthat self-blame shit, cause that’s not helping him right now.” Lucas’ mouth slammedshut and he nodded. Steve was right. Focus on Dustin.

They got there, and Lucas was tumbling out of the doorbefore the car had even come to a full stop, he distantly heard Steve reprimandinghim but just ran forward into the house, ramming the door with his shoulder. Hejumped back as pain flared up in his arm, but only took a moment to recover beforehitting it again and again.

“Shit, Lucas, step back,” Steve said, when he’d finallycaught up, pushing Lucas back and picking the lock.

They ran in to find a shirtless guy standing in front of thefridge, holding a bowl of grapes. Lucas felt anger flare up in his gut as hetook in his dishevelled hair and unclasped jeans. The guy frowned when theywalked in, taking a step back,

“Who the fuck are you? Why are you in my house?” He asked,

“Dylan Ffion?” Lucas asked, stalking towards him. The guy shrugged,dropping the grapes and crossing his arms defensively,

“Who’s asking?” Lucas reared back and decking him across theface. Groaning when he pulled his shoulder more and bruised his knuckles, thepunch wasn’t as hard as he would have liked but the shock factor helped him asthe guy flew back, clutching his nose. “What the fuck, dude?”

“Where’s Dustin?” he asked coldly, the guys eyes widened in realisation,but he quickly schooled his expression, grabbing a cloth to catch the bleeding.

“fuck! What are you a jealous ex? I don’t have to tell youshit about his dating life,” dating life,Lucas felt disgust grow in the pit of his stomach.

“Look, you fuck, Dustin texted me saying you drugged him,you piece of shit, so unless you want me to leave and go straight to thestation, you’ll tell me where he is and pray to God I find him in a decent condition.If I find that you’ve harmed a single fucking hair on his head, I’ll skin you.”He reeled off, stepping into the other guys personal space. He seemed tofinally be understanding how serious the situation was and began stutteringthrough an excuse.

“n-nah dude, you’ve got it wrong. I was j-just helping him. Hehad too much to drink and…” Lucas scoffed rolling his eyes and grabbing Dylan bythe collar, cutting off his spiel,

“Where. Is. he?”

“Upstairs, first room on the right,” he choked out just as Stevewas pulling Lucas off him,

“Dude you don’t wanna get done for assault, go get him. I’lldeal with this shithead,” he said, shooing him upstairs. Lucas heart was in histhroat as he ran up and to the room Dylan had said, he bit his lip when he sawDustin, passed out on the bed. He could almost pretend he was asleep form thisfar away, but upon approaching him he could see the faint tear tracks on hischeeks. His heart was in his throat as he approached the bed.

“Hey Dusty,” He said, gently shaking him, “Can you hear me,love?” Dustin groaned on the bed, his eyelids flickered, and his fingerstwitched. Lucas took his hand tightly, feeling his eyes tear up, “C’mon baby,wake up please,” he murmured, rubbing the back of his knuckles with his thumb. Allhe got in reply was another groan. He ripped of the blanket, cringing when hesaw his boyfriend was just in his underwear,

“Shit, Dust, where are your clothes?” he asked quietly,looking around the room. He grabbed a dressing gown, wrapping Dustin in it andpicking him up. On his way out, he noticed Dustin’s jeans on the floor, andgrabbed them as well.

“Steve can I have your keys?” he asked as they walked by theliving room.

“Fuck” Steve uttered when he turned around and saw Dustin inLucas’ arms, “Of course,” he threw him the keys and all Lucas could think as hemade his way back to the car was that he let his happen.

“Never again,” he whispered, kissing Dustin’s forehead, “Neveragain,”

lmao sorry for the shitty ending

send me a word (or phrase) and an IT ship and I’ll write u a drabble//headcanon for it :)