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mk-tozier · 4 years

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BRAT| RICHIE TOZIER X READER

@softbumble asked: I was wanting a smut with Richie x quiet reader where the reader is acting like a brat and Richie decides to teach them some manners.

17-18 years old or whatever age you want idc lmao

I’m sorry if this is bad or not what you wanted, I’m also gonna be kinda slow on requests, I’m trying the best as i can. Also sorry if its short or kinda rushed I’ve been kinda busy!

It’s kinda bad and very repetitive. Thats on me tho cuz its rushed. Again sorry if this is not what you had in mind. I was also writing this with the IQ of 2 because my brain was not working after taking a 1 hour and a half science test and then a math test right after so please excuse the absolute chaos this writing is.

warnings: smut, language, slight choking, degrading, teasing, fingering, overstimulation, idk man’, unedited as hell

I sat in Bill’s living room, next to Richie, sitting on the couch. An hour before me and Richie were at home, fingers tangled in each others hair, He trailed kisses down my neck, leaving hickeys and love bites on my neck as he played with the waistband of my underwear, teasing me and rubbing my clit through it. Then we got a call from Bill asking to hangout and Richie being Richie said we’ll go and left me unsatisfied. So now i was stuck on the couch, bored and horny. “why do you look so upset y/n, did something happen?” Ben asks. “No I’m just tired, thats all.” i said sweetly, but shooting Richie a glare. He smirked, before looking back at the tv which was playing some movie that i had no interest in. Bill and Stan were setting things up, getting snacks from the kitchen, board games from the closet, getting things together. I wasn’t exactly sure what we were doing but we were waiting for them to finish up.

Stan came into the living room, placing a bowl of chips onto the table. “Heyy stanny boyyyyyyyyyyy” I giggled, i have no idea why but i made myself laugh. “hey Y/n” He smiled. “you’re my twin” i say. “how so?” he asks, seeming genuinely interested in what i had to say. “We’re both quiet, sassy, funny” i stop to send Stan a wink at the word ‘funny’ “and cool people” I smile brightly. “i agree” he shakes his head, smiling. I look over to see a annoyed Richie. Hes very easy to make jealous, thats whats fun about him. Stan walked out of the room to continue helping Bill. “flirting with another guy” Richie muttered to himself, in a growl. I put my hand on Richies thigh. He looked over at me. “what’re you doing?” he growls again. “nothing” i shrug. I lay my head on his shoulder.

time skip

i layed with Richie comfortablely, My hand still on his thigh. The boys finished setting everything up, putting on ‘The Goonies’. I moved my hand higher up Richies thigh, closer to his manhood. I looked up at him, Richies jaw clenched. “Richieeee” i whined into his ear. “what?” he replies. “i need youuuu.” i whine again, kissing his neck. “wait until we get home” he mutters. “but i need you now” i brush my hand against his clothed dick, feeling it harden a bit. “baby pleaseee” “I said wait until we get home” Richie growls into my ear. I huff but listen to him, keeping my hand on his thigh. He moves my hand off his thigh and onto the couch. I huff again, annoyed, hes being no fun. I wait a few minutes before putting my hand back on his thigh. “princess, stop it” he whispers into my ear. I ignore him, moving my hand closer to his manhood. “if you dont stop I’ll have to punish you” he growls. I stop moving my hand, leaving it directly on his hard-on. Richie keeps his eyes on the tv, jaw clenched and anger in his eyes. Just what i wanted. I began to palm Richie through his joggers, causing his breath to hitch. He grabbed my wrist, moving it away from my pants. “I just remembered i told my parents that I’d have Y/n over for dinner, they love her so they insist in inviting her to dinners. they’ll kill me if I’m late so we gotta go” Richie says to the losers, they nod understanding. He pulls me through the living room and out the door, shutting it behind him. “what the fuck was that?!?” Richie growls. He gets on his bike, i get on the back, wrapping my arms around him. “answer me” “its your fault, you said we could go to Bill’s, maybe if you werent such a tease then i wouldnt of done what i did” I snap back. “Acting like a brat now, are we?” he says, pedalling faster

When we arrived to the house Richie threw his bike to the ground on his front lawn, he dragged me inside, the door unlocked. Richie pushed me against the wall, attacking my neck. “Made me lie to the losers because you were so needy” He mumbled against my neck. “Needy slut can’t even wait until we get home” Richie says before beginning to suck and lick at my soft spot. I moan from the unexpected contact. “you like that? hmm?” i nod my head. Richie trails down my neck, kissing my cleavage, his hands roam under my shirt. “Rich, not here” i gasp. “Its my house, we can fuck wheverever the hell i want” He grumbled. Richie picks me up, walking up the stairs, continuing to attack my neck with hickies. He pushes open his bedroom door, kicking it closed when we enter the room, throwing me on the bed. Richie quickly takes off his shirt, throwing it somewhere, revealing his pale skin and skinny frame. He walks over to the bed, getting on top of me, arms on both sides of my body. Richie takes off my shirt, throwing it behind him. He kisses around my bra and down my stomach, kissing the skin right before my shorts/skirt, leaving hickies along the way, getting closer to where i needed him the most. “Rich, please” I whine. “please what? Use your words” “i need you, please” i whine again. “bad girls dont get what they want, beg for it.” He growls into my ear, the raspiness of his voice and the lust in his eyes made me want him more, a wetness pooling in my underwear. Richie unclasped my bra, attacking my breasts, licking and sucking at one nipple as he fondled with the other breast. “please Richie, i need you inside me so bad, your fingers, your tongue, anything, i just need you. so, so, so bad Rich” I beg. “such a needy slut, you’ll use anything to get off, won’t you? so desperate for my cock, huh” Richie kisses down my stomach, removing my shorts/skirt. “you’re so wet for me. you’re my little whore, just begging for my cock.I barely touched you and you’re all riled up?” Richie smirks.

He puts his thumb on my clit, rubbing me through my underwear, i moan, satisfaction running through me. Richie rubbed my clit slowly, applying pressure. “please Rich, please i need you inside of me.” I whine. “Such a impatient needy slut, can’t wait to feel my fingers inside of you, falling apart just from a little touch” He pulls down my underwear slightly, blowing air onto my clit. “such a little whore, all soaked” Richie pushes one finger into me, thrusting slowly, i moan loudly, before biting my lip. “faster Rich please” i let out quickly. He speeds up his pace, lifting himself to my lips. Richie connects his lips with mine, kissing me softly, sometimes he can’t help himself and he’ll kiss me softly or passionately, he’ll never admit it but he has a soft spot. Richie curls his finger, hitting a different angle, causing me to moan into the kiss. “you like that? hmm?“ I nod my head moaning, my hips buck, the familiar pit in my stomach growing, i clenched around his finger. Richie enters another finger, thrusting quickly. My hips buck again, i moan loudly, letting my hands go to his hair, tugging. “fuck, rich im gonna cum” i whine, clenching around his fingers. I feel my release pulsing through me. Richie pulls his fingers out, i whine, annoyed. “riiich” “Bad girls dont get to cum” He says before licking his fingers. “you always taste so good princess” Richie connects my lips with his once again, shoving his tongue in my mouth, sucking on my bottom lip. He pulls away, lowering himself. Richie licks a stripe up my pussy unexpectedly. “Rich!” i squeal. He swirls his tongue around my clit and down to my slit. Richie licks my clit slowly, holding my thighs. I bite my lip, holding back the sounds. He begins speeding up the pace, drawing little circles on my thighs with his fingers.

Richie starts licking slower before sucking on my clit, i cover my mouth, whining. Richie sits up, grabbing my hand. “let me hear you, dont cover your mouth. i want everyone to hear what a slut you are, let them know that you’re mine” He says before lowering himself, beginning to suck on my clit again. “Rich! Fuck!” i gasp, causing him to suck on my clit faster, i could feel the pit in my stomach growing already. My hips bucked into his mouth, i tugged on his hair. “Richieee baby im close” i groaned. He sucked faster, licking at my clit, swirling and moving his tongue. My hips bucked again as i let out an aspirated moan. “I’m gonna cum, fuck” i moaned, Richie pulled away quickly. “Riiiich.” I whine. “I told you, bad girls dont get to cum” he leans over me, arms on both sides of me again. “Maybe next time you’ll learn your lesson, flirting with Stan and acting like a brat? You had it coming” Richie whispers into my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “Needy slut” He mumbles. He connects our lips once again, my hands travel to his hair, playing with it. Richie grinds against my heat, groaning into the kiss,his hard on rubbing me through his joggers. “Rich i need you, please. I know I’m a bad girl, please i learned my lesson, I’ll behave i promise”

“Yeah? You want this cock? Huh?” “Yes. Please richie.” “Good girl, begging for me so well. You’re gonna behave?” “Yes i will. i promise rich. I’ll be patient and i wont flirt with anyone, I’m yours and only yours” Richie groans. He gets off the bed, taking offf his joggers, his dick clearly showing through his boxers, is it up, helping him remove them. “Eager brat” Richie chuckles, he crawls onto the bed, pushing me onto my back. He looks up at me, his tip nearing my entrance. I nod, letting him know to go ahead. Richie slowly enters me, groaning, his precum leaking into my entrance. “So wet and warm for me” he groans. “Rich” i plead. Richie starts to thrust into me slowly, i moan, finally getting the pleasure i wanted. “Can Stanley fuck you this good? Huh?” Richie picks up the pace. I shake my head, whining. “Does his dick fill you up like this?” “N-no only you do.” I gasp. “Who’s are you?” He thrusts faster, groaning. “I’m yours Rich, only yours.” Richie groans again, he leans over, sucking on my neck, leaving dark purple bruises. My back arches and i moan loudly. He hovers over me again. “You’re mine” his words made the pit in my stomach grow, Richie puts his hand around my neck, making me moan. “You like that? You like when i choke you like the little toy you are.” He growls. I whimper, nodding my head. “You like using my hand as a necklace, hm? You like when i use you as my little sex toy?” Richie groans, i moan, his words sending me over the edge, my hips start bucking as i clench around him. “Are you gonna cum, princess?” I nod my head “yes richie. I’m gonna cum, please let me cum” I whimper again. “Go ahead doll, cum for me, cum all over my cock. I wanna see you” He whispers into my ear, completely sending me over the edge, making me cum harshly, my vision blurred from all the pleasure hitting me. “AH! RICH!” Richie chuckles, kissing my cheek. His fast pace continues, the grip on my neck loosening a bit. “Rich.” I whimper. “You wanted my dick, you’re getting it. You’re gonna take it until i cum, is that alright?” I nod, moaning from overstimulation. “You like that baby? You like how I’m using you as my little cocksleeve?” He groans into my ear. I nod, whining. Richies thrusts start to falter, getting sloppier. I can feel my high coming back, the pit in my stomach starting again. My hips buck again, clenching around Rich. He groans, making me clench around his dick more. “B-Baby you close again?” He says, shutting his eyes. “Mhm” “cum again for me. I’m here, its okay.” He thrusts rougher into me, his head falling back in pleasure. I whine, his pleasure sending me over the edge, cumming. Richie groans, his dick twitching inside of me. “I’m close. Shit. You fuck so good princess, taking my dick so well.” “You’re so good rich, filling my up with your big dick.” I whine, he groans, cumming in me, stopping his thrusts.

Richie pants, i run my fingers through his hair. “You did so well doll” He flashes me his signature goofy grin. Richie looked down. “That was hot.” He chuckles, i smile admiring his features. “I love you Rich.” I whisper, barely audible. Richies head snaps up, his cheeks red. “Y-you what? Did i hear that r-right. Y-you love me?” His face softens, he smiles slightly. “I love you too Doll.” Richie plants a small sweet kiss on my lips, he pulls out. “You need a bath princess?” He asks. “That’d be nice.” I say softly. “C’mon I’ll go set up the bath”

#richie tozier #richie tozier smut #beep beep richie #smut #richie tozier x reader #that one moment when you have no tags fluff richie Tozier fluff

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heytherejulietx · 3 years

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suspect - richie tozier

↳ based on a headcanon that me and @violetblvd came up with because we have big brains :)

↳ content warnings - swearing, brief depictions of depression, aged up losers, mostly just fluff though

↳ 2.6k word count

masterlists

@bucky-j-barnes @mikewheelerc @whaddyam3an @justanotherkpopstanlol join my tag list

“are you okay? you weren’t at the clubhouse earlier, i missed you.” y/n could practically hear richie’s pout through the phone as he spoke. he always spoke in the same almost-whining tone whenever he pouted. it was adorable, really.

it wasn’t often that she skipped out on spending time with the losers. most of the time they were the reason she left the house, aside from school. they were found family and she spent as much time with them as possible. and richie, she could barely ever resist time with him. they had been dating for well over a year, and basically spent every day together. and most nights, when richie snuck in through her window.

though y/n had been feeling off recently. she had times when she’d distance herself from others, not because anything had happened, but because she just felt down and unhappy. and over the past few days she’d been feeling worse and worse. really, she knew that even if she just saw richie it would make her feel so much better. but she couldn’t bring herself to leave the house unless she had to. it just seemed like too much effort that she didn’t have the energy for.

“sorry, i meant to call and say i wasn’t going. i didn’t really feel like it today.” y/n responded, and leaned back against the wall beside the phone.

“are you okay?” richie repeated, and she could hear the worry in his tone.

“i’m okay, rich, i promise. i just needed some time alone today.” she said softly, twisting the phone cord between her fingers as she spoke.

“alright, but you know you can call if you need anything right?”

“i know,” she smiled softly at his thoughtfulness. “i’ll call if i need you, I promise.”

“alrighty. i gotta go, stan is glaring at me to get off of his phone,” richie snickered and she could then briefly hear stan complaining in the background. “i love you.”

“i love you too, rich.”

once she had hung up the phone y/n sighed, frowning a little. she knew that richie could tell that something was up. he was the only person she saw when she felt like that, and he could easily tell the difference in her behaviour. on days when he’d see her feeling down he would be sweeter and more gentle. richie would run her a bath and wash her hair or order her food (he tried cooking for her once but almost set fire to her kitchen), or he’d just lay with her in his arms and tell her how much he loved her. she really appreciated how much he cared for her, especially when she needed him the most. the thought of how much he cared for her made her want to see him more and she frowned, knowing that she’d have to wait until tomorrow.

y/n found herself back upstairs in her bedroom after she had something to eat. it was nearing seven in the evening, though despite the time she decided to just try and sleep in the hopes of feeling better when she woke up. she stripped off her clothes and pulled on one of richie’s many t-shirts that she kept at her house. originally he had brought them there in case he ever wanted to stay the night to wear something else in the morning, but most of the time she wore his clothes for bed. when richie first noticed her wearing his clothes he seemed pretty fond of it himself, which only encouraged her to do it more.

the weather had started warming up recently so y/n kept her window open as she climbed underneath the covers of her bed with a sigh and settled herself against the pillow, attempting to get comfortable. she just started drifting off to sleep half an hour later when she heard a tap at her window.

y/n scrunched her eycbrows together a little, at first thinking maybe she’d just made the noise up in her sleepy state. like when you think you’re falling right as you start going to sleep. though at the next tap, which was considerably louder than the first, she rolled over to see what it was and was met with doe eyes and a goofy grin. of course.

his grin grew as he reached his hand out to pull her window all the way open so he could climb into her bedroom. y/n couldn’t hold back a quiet giggle as he did a stupid somersault across her windowsill which caused him to land on her floor with a thump, and narrowly missed whacking his head on her bookshelf.

“rich,” she giggled, as she propped herself half-up on her elbow. “what’re you-“

“crrch,” he cut her off by mimicking the static sound of a walkie talkie, not rising from the floor. “i have snuck into the suspects bedroom, i repeat i’m in, crrch.” he held his hand up to his mouth like he was actually holding a walkie talkie, and with his free hand he slipped his backpack off of the one shoulder he had it slung over. it landed on the floor beside him before he started slowly moving across her bedroom floor, like he was making a very poor attempt at not being seen by her.

“crrch, suspect has a very pretty bedroom, safe to assume she’s also very pretty, crrch.” y/n giggled quietly as she leaned up a little to see him.

as she laughed he almost theatrically whipped his head up to see her and his eyes widened, feigning shock as he stood up so quickly that he almost lost his balance altogether. she could see in his eyes that he wanted to laugh. he always wore the same exact expression when he was truly entertained; to be honest she was surprised he hadn’t burst into laughter yet.

“crrch she’s seen me! oh god i’ve been caught!” she started laughing as he shouted, holding his free hand out with his fingers out like a gun. “crrch oh god! she’s so adorable it hurts! she’s giggling! oh she’s so pretty!” he gasped and she held her own hand out like a gun as he did. “fuck she’s armed! she has a gun crrch!” y/n laughed as he groaned dramatically, his hand flying to cover his chest as he attempted a poor act of being hurt. “i’ve been shot!”

richie dramatically stumbled over towards her bed where he finally toppled over right on top of her and fell with his back against her stomach, groaning again with his hand still clutching his chest.

“i have a wife and kids and you shot me-“ he started shouting dramatically before she clasped her hand over his mouth to get him to shut up, still laughing herself.

“you’re gonna make my parents hear you asshole.” she giggled, and sat up to see him better which left him laying across her thighs instead.

“hey, you’re the one that shot me,” he mumbled underneath her hand, and when she removed it he was grinning despite still trying to feign hurt. “you’re lethal.”

“do you want me to kiss it better, richie?” y/n raised her eyebrows, amused.

“oh please my darling that would be delightful!” he grinned up at her as he spoke in his terrible british accent, and she laughed again as she looked down at him.

“okay,” she giggled. “where are you hurt?”

“right here.” he smirked up at her as he pointed to his lips.

“in the mouth?”

“yeah, you’re really violent.” he snickered.

“if i shot you in the mouth why were you holding your chest-“

“oh just shut up and kiss me.” richie complained and y/n giggled as she leaned down towards him, smiling against his lips as they met. she felt his hand lift to rest on her cheek and his touch felt warm against her skin. she practically melted into him with a quiet sigh against his mouth. y/n seriously underestimated how much she needed to be with him earlier.

when she leaned away from him he was grinning up at her still, and his hand was no longer resting over his chest.

“all better?” she teased, and lifted her hand to reach down and ruffled his mop of curly black hair.

“yep, good as new toots. you should be a nurse,” richie leaned up to leave another kiss against her lips before he sat up completely so he was no longer laying across her. “now that i’m all better, i guess i have to finish what i came here to do.” he sighed dramatically, though he had his up to no good smirk on as he turned to face her.

“kill me? rich i don’t-“ y/n started, though cut herself off with a laugh when he turned and slipped his hands under her shirt to tickle his fingers across her ribs.

as she started to squirm away from him he moved to kneel over her, and as his knees bracketed her thighs she couldn’t go anywhere. asshole.

“richie-“ she gasped through her laughter, her attempts at pushing his hands away doing nothing. “okay okay you got me! you got me!” she laughed, and still kicked her legs even though it did nothing with where he was sat over her.

richie was grinning down at her, wearing his smug look that made her want to either smack him or kiss him, depending on what he was doing. after another moment of y/n’s attempted complaints through her laughter richie moved his hands from her sides, and instead held her hands down against her pillows as she giggled with the ghosting of his tickles.

“you’re an asshole,” y/n giggled, her face flushed red as she looked up at him. she felt his fingers interlock with hers as he pushed hers down against her pillow and she squeezed his gently, despite still lifting her leg to knee him in the back. “that was mean.” she pouted, poorly holding back her smile.

“i just wanted to make my best girl laugh,” he sighed dramatically. from where he was kneeling above her his hair had fallen in front of his eyes, curly black strands laying across his forehead in a way that made him look so pretty. richie was hot, everybody knew richie was hot, richie knew richie was hot. so usually if she complimented him it didn’t seem to phase him. though whenever she called him pretty he’d go a little pink, almost bashful. it made her always want to call him pretty. “plus i missed you today, i needed to make up for not annoying you earlier. i took it out on stan instead, i think he even grew some grey hairs.” he snickered.

y/n rolled her eyes, though found herself smiling softly again when richie had leaned down to kiss her. his hands squeezed hers, still pressed up into the pillow, and she felt him smile against her lips that time. he pulled away only for a moment, his eyes meeting hers as he smiled, before he leaned back in and pressed a kiss to her cheek. and then to her other cheek. and then her nose. he was relentless, pressing kisses all over her face until she had scrunched up her nose and giggled, shaking her head to get him to stop when his hair started tickling her face.

“you’re so pretty.” richie smiled down at her when he leaned back again, and y/n flushed pink as he left a more gentle kiss to her lips before he pulled back, and let her hands go as he sat up properly.

“you’re not so bad yourself.” she mumbled, and giggled as he poked her sides.

“is this mine?” richie tugged on the shirt she was wearing, and his hand smoothed it out across her stomach to see whatever pattern was printed over the front of it. “i’m flattered that you find my fashion sense so inspiring, sweets.”

“if you leave your stuff here i’m going to wear it.” she pointed out, and he chuckled against her lips with the next kiss he gave her.

“hey, i brought you some stuff.” like a lightbulb switched on in his head to remind him why he was there, y/n watched as he jumped off of her and went over towards his backpack on the floor. richie lifted it up and sat it on the bed in front of her, and after fishing around in it for a moment (richie had tons of junk and trash in his backpack since he could never clear it out) he pulled out two cans of coke, a chocolate bar, and some trampled flowers that looked suspiciously like the ones her mother grew in their front garden.

deciding not to comment on the flowers, y/n smiled softly as she looked up at richie and sat up properly. “rich you didn’t have to get me anything.” she said softly, and reached out to take his hand.

“i know, i just wanted to get you something since you seemed a little down on the phone.” richie smiled softly as he gently squeezed her hand.

he probably knew that she felt more than just a little down, and he probably knew exactly how she was feeling as he’d witnessed it before. but y/n appreciated his thoughtfulness nonetheless. she appreciated that he didn’t make a big fuss of it like some other people would, and was just there for her instead.

leaning over the pile of things on her bed y/n let go of his hand to wrap her arms around his middle, murmuring a “thank you“ before she kissed his cheek. his arms wrapped tightly back around her, and y/n almost relaxed completely when she felt his lips press a kiss to her temple. soft moments like that where richie didn’t feel the need to be loud and brash meant so much to her. it was lovely to be with him in such a soft and vulnerable way. she got to see a side of him that nobody else did.

once they had moved the gifts from richie onto her bedside table and his backpack returned to its place on the floor, richie slipped his shoes off and got into the bed beside her with y/n tucked against his side. one of his hands were on her back underneath the shirt as his fingers traced delicate patterns across her back, and his other was clasped with one of hers resting on his stomach. y/n had her eyes closed with her ear to his chest, and as she listened to his heartbeat she could’ve sworn that everything was perfect for one shining moment.

“thank you.” she whispered after a moment, and squeezed his hand lightly with his own.

“it’s no problem, angel. i just thought you’d appreciate some chocolate-“

“no, not for that,” she shook her head as she smiled softly. “for making me feel better.”

richie didn’t say anything in response at first, and instead she felt his lips press a lingering kiss to the top of her head. she smiled softly, growing more tired the more relaxed he got her.

“all in a days work.” he mumbled along with another kiss and she smiled briefly, though was on the verge of falling asleep. completely relaxed in richie’s arms, she drifted off with a smile on her face feeling the best that she had in a week.

#amber’s writing #richie tozier #richie tozier x you #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier fanfiction #richie tozier fluff #richie tozier imagine #it fanfiction #it fic #it chapter one #it chapter 1 #it chapter 2 #it chapter two

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kafka-ish · 4 years

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the act of being a boy-friend | r.t.

y/n’s plan to make her crush, or ex crush, jealous backfires when she realizes she’s been the jealous one all along.

word count: 6.7k

warnings/included: fluff, losers aren’t friends anymore, fem!reader

a/n: i just rlly love writing love triangles hgeoigso also fake dating tropes ftw🥳

“What’s ruh-ruh-wrong? Juh-juh-hust tell me what I can do, and I’ll ff-fix it.” Bill sat next to y/n on his worn sofa. The two were watching a movie but he couldn’t put a pin on what was wrong until he noticed y/n wasn’t making her usual commentary. y/n always talked whenever they got together to watch a movie—either letting her petty remarks be known to the rest of the viewers or judging the style choice. And if she wasn’t talking, her face was stuffed full of popcorn or sour candy.

But y/n wasn’t doing either of those things.

She sat in a ball—her bare feet on his couch and her kneecaps digging into her stomach. Her eyes were wide and focused on the screen ahead of them that blared ET. Her nails that were in tip-top condition when she first showed up to Bill’s house, neatly trimmed and polished with a layer of topcoat were now bitten to the bed, ragged and raw.

“Why would you think something’s wrong?” y/n said, surprised that she was able to even squeak out the words after zoning out for so long. Something was wrong. But it wasn’t like y/n would tell him. This is what she wanted, right? Just the two of them—Bill’s arm wrapped around her while she pressed into his side while the only light in the room came from his television set.

So why did everything feel so wrong?

Richie and y/n had dated two months prior. Well… ‘dated’. The relationship wasn’t real, but the butterflies whenever Richie called her a dumb pet name or kissed her on the cheek (because kissing on the lips was too far) certainly felt real. And the heartbreak that came from him talking about other girls felt more real than the time y/n got stood up at the eighth-grade dance.

“I don’t wanna be your fuckin’ boyfriend,” Richie protested. His mouth was full of the turkey club sandwich he snagged from a detention buddy and his perfectly straight nose was now scrunched in disgust at the absurd idea his friend had to offer.

“I don’t get why you’re being so pissy about this.” y/n took the sandwich from him, taking a bite of her own and cringing at the taste of mustard that was hidden under the lettuce.

“Grow up.” Richie laughed at y/n who was using a napkin to wipe the tangy aftertaste off her tongue. “You know.” He took another bite. “This sorta shit never ends well.”

“What shit?” y/n prodded. She was still hooked on the idea of getting Richie to play house with her.

“The game where you and I pretend to be boyfriend and girlfriend and eventually one of us falls for each other.” Richie was taking an oddly rational approach to y/n’s suggestion. But Richie was logical in a sense where he just knew.

“Who says I’d fall for you?” y/n poked at his shoulder. One of her eyebrows raised because in what world would she let herself catch feelings for Richie Tozier?

In this world. In this lifetime, y/n would let herself fall for one of her best friends, only to be dating her longtime crush.

“How could you not?” Richie smirked but y/n could tell he was just joking. “I’m irresistible, love.” His stupid British-man Voice made yet another appearance and y/n had to refrain from hitting him.

“What about me?” y/n didn’t care whether or not Richie found her attractive, but to say his response never left her mind after that day would be an understatement.

“Well, just look at you.” Richie put the sandwich down. “If it’s anyone, I’ll be having a harder time.”

“So does that mean you’ll go through with it?” A new light hit y/n’s eyes; the sparkle almost blinding Richie who was shaking his head.

“I don’t get why you’re so hung up about this.” He sighed. y/n could tell he was getting annoyed, but y/n was also persistent. If she wanted something, she’d get it; careless about the lengths she’d have to go through for her fantasies to become a truth. Her truth.

“I’m just saying there are benefits for both of us.” y/n’s head tilted to the side, trying to get a better glimpse at Richie now gnawing at his lunch like an animal.

“Benefits?” Richie asked mid-bite.

“Yeah. I can make Bill Denbrough jealous and he’ll fall madly in love with me. Same for you and your ex.”

“Bill Denbrough?” Richie ignored the mention of his ex-girlfriend. He was fifty-percent sure he was already over her, but the other fifty percent of him still stole glances in her direction and kept a copy of her school picture in his wallet. But Bill Denbrough? y/n had a crush on the Bill Denbrough? Richie had to take a moment for his ears to adjust to this staggering news.

Bill Denbrough was a baseball player and Richie’s old childhood friend. Him, Bill, Stan Uris (who was coincidentally also on Derry’s baseball team), Mike Hanlon (who didn’t play baseball but football), Ben Hanscom (he was on the track team), Eddie Kaspbrak, and Beverly Marsh were all a group back in middle school. And Bill and Richie went way back—back to elementary school. It was until the end of freshman year when Stan tried out for baseball (Bill tagged along but made the team anyway) and Mike brought up how he wanted to go out for football next year.

Everyone’s interests started to diverge. Everyone started to diverge. They still went to Mike’s games at the beginning of their sophomore year, but their lunches together only seemed to happen on Wednesday and their afternoon hangouts at the quarry turned into just Richie smoking puffs on the edge; the only company being his portable radio.

Richie befriended y/n sophomore year, around the same time he and his friends fizzed out in January’s crisp air. He met her in his new art class when Derry High released students’ new schedules for the second semester. They’d stayed friends ever since; sharing their lunches and staying after school to finish up on a Social Studies project that wasn’t worth the grade they received. y/n was the one to comfort Richie after his breakup with Vanessa Jennings, but this was the first Richie had ever heard of y/n’s crush on Bill. He didn’t even know she knew Bill.

“You like Bill Denbrough?”

y/n nodded. “So, what do you say? Partner…”

Richie gave in. Although it wasn’t in his interest to get back with Vanessa, he’d still go along with y/n’s scheme.

He’d pick her up at her house before school at seven o’clock sharp—whether it was in his dad’s old Chevy or by foot in his red Converse.

y/n rushed to her front door as soon as she heard a ring. Her hair was half done, and she hadn’t had enough time to do her makeup yet. Luckily, she was already dressed in her school clothes—the denim of her jeans scuffing together when she walked, and her red blouse having to be pulled down every time she rose her arms.

“Morning, sugar.” Richie’s lazy grin and tired eyes never failed to bring a smile on her face even before they started ‘dating’. His hair wasn’t brushed at all, making y/n feel better about her appearance. His body leaned slanted against the doorframe while he waited for her and the white tip of his Converse made its attempt to dig into the porch.

“Sugar?” y/n asked, bemused. She grabbed her keys from the table next to the door, using them to lock the door behind her.

“You look different today.” y/n’s head raised from its once concentrated position from the lock on her door.

“Different how?” She inquired, mostly wondering if this difference was a good or bad thing.

“You look good.” y/n’s cheeks couldn’t help but heat at the compliment. Richie was always calling her cutesy names or saying shit like actually, now that my glasses are on, your ass does look good in those jeans. This should be no different, right?

It only felt different because they were… an item is what y/n convinced herself somewhere along the drive to school. Richie opened the door for her when she got in (and out), but in return, she’d have to let him play his favorite station.

“it’s only courtesy, babe.” Richie shrugged but his eyes kept on the road. “I scratch your back, you scratch mine.”

But two weeks in, y/n found out she liked what this rock ‘n roll guy had to offer. She liked the loud beat of the drum and how the guitar sang in her ears. She liked Richie’s voice that overpowered Elvis’s when he sang along to the lyrics, knowing every word by heart.

“I don’t get why you’re taking me anywhere,” y/n said. She sat in the passenger’s seat of his car like she usually did. “We don’t have to pretend unless we’re, like, in public.” Her voice became small, almost regretting the words that came out of her mouth. Secretly, she hoped Richie wouldn’t turn the 1965 Chevrolet Camaro around.

“It’s not like we aren’t friends.” Richie’s thumb made a tap, tap, tapping sound against the steering wheel. “Friends hang out, right?”

y/n smiled but didn’t answer. It never occurred to her that they weren’t dating. After a while, it just seemed so natural; the hand holding under lunch tables; the way he held her binder for her.

“Is that heavy, sweetheart?” Richie stood next to y/n, intently watching as she struggled with her books in one arm: her other hand turning the combination lock. His gaze never left her figure. He was thoughtful, caring…

“Kind of, but you don’t need to—”

Ignoring y/n, Richie took the books from her hold. He already had books of his own to carry, but he couldn’t let his girlfriend struggle with hers.

“Yeah… friends.” y/n couldn’t seem to face him while uttering the words. Friends. The declaration felt so distant. After all, they had been more than friends—or pretending to be more than friends. But at the end of the day, y/n didn’t know if she wanted to be just friends with Richie Tozier. That was new considering, she never saw Richie as something else. Something that greeted her with flowers before school and held open the door for her. Not until now, no. Richie was always… Richie.

Richie Tozier who was always caught doing his homework last minute in art—because that’s the easiest class, babe. Richie Tozier who liked detention because he could catch up on a few extra minutes of lost beauty sleep. Richie Tozier who stopped bringing his lunch to school because you’re the only sugar I need.

y/n rolled the window down, letting a breeze sweep through her hair and tickle her skin. She needed a distraction because the recent epiphany of the boy next to her being the reason for her heart palpitations was something to need a distraction from.

The sky bled orange and purple—the colors perfectly melted into one another—and y/n wondered if this wasn’t their world after all. Maybe they were being controlled and the puppeteer behind her was playing some sick joke by making her catch feelings for Richie Tozier. y/n didn’t even notice they came to a stop until the click of Richie’s seatbelt grabbed her ears from their trance.

“You comin’?” Richie asked from outside of her side of the car. He was hunched down, his forearm resting on the door to help prop him up.

“Yeah.” y/n swallowed but it hurt. It felt like acid ripped through her esophagus but the only thing she had to drink that day was water. She reached for the door handle, but Richie was faster, already opening the door himself. “Such a gentleman,” y/n snickered.

“Of course.” Richie stayed behind to lock the doors.

“So, you drove me, just a friend, all the way out to the best milkshakes in town?” y/n asked, eyeing the neon-lit sign that read

Hwy 90

The highway to your stomach.

They served other things, but they specialized in milkshakes—something neither Richie nor y/n would care to pass up. But nothing y/n would drive thirty minutes for just for some glorified ice cream in a glass.

“It’s the least I could do.” Richie opened the door for y/n once again. The entrance door to the diner made a jingling sound as the top corner hit the bells which hung from the ceiling.

“The least you could do?” y/n wondered aloud, but Richie wasn’t given the chance to answer her question when a waitress scurried up to them, a stack of menus in one arm and a bundle of silverware in the other. She was taller than y/n but shorter than Richie and she wore black and white bowling shoes to match the wide-legged jeans and polo underneath her apron. “Is it just you two?” She asked sweetly, hiking the pile of menus up higher on her arm.

“Yeah,” Richie said. He stuffed his hands in his back pocket, not knowing where to put them.

The waitress showed them to a small booth that sat in the corner of the brightly lit restaurant. It was too bright for y/n’s eyes under the red, blue, and pink hues that reflected across the shiny white tile, But the corner table the girl had brought them to would do. There was a certain coziness to it, or maybe it was the thought of sitting so close to Richie in a public setting that settled y/n’s eyes.

“I’m Annie. I’ll be your server today,” the girl said as soon as Richie and y/n slid into their respective sides of the red pleather seats. She was fast-talking and all shades of nervousness as her left hand went to grab the number two pencil that fastened the blonde curls that were pinned in a knot on top of her head. “Can I get you anything?”

“A menu would be nice,” y/n said. In front of them sat a table, salt and pepper shakers, and a half-empty Heinz ketchup bottle. Annie had forgotten to give the two a menu.

“My apologies!” She exclaimed, bashful. She handed them each a menu to sift through.

“Don’t sweat it.” Richie winked in her direction and y/n felt herself grow… what was that? Anger? Annie’s pale skin blushed a bright red and y/n could tell it wasn’t the apron making her feel hot.

It took Richie a full-fledged thirty seconds and two skims through the laminated paper for him to decide what he wanted, and it took y/n at least two minutes. “I’ll have a Cookies n Cream. Extra sweet.” Just like you.

y/n was biting her thumb and still reading over the same three flavors that caught her eye while Annie stood patiently waiting for her response. Richie was messing with the saltshaker. His leg found hers under the table and gave it a quick kick.

“Ouch.” She looked up from the menu, averting her attention to the boy in front of her with a fix glare. “Can I have Vanilla? With a cherry on top?”

Annie scribbled down both of their orders in messy writing before making her way across the floor and to the kitchen.

“Vanilla?” Richie laughed and y/n didn’t know what was so funny. “’Cause you’re vanilla?” He covered his mouth with his hand before another fit of laughter would consume the table.

“Shut up.” Swiftly, y/n’s leg propelled into his which caused Richie’s laughs to die down, replaced by a single yelp.

“So…” Richie’s eyebrows wiggled. His nails, which were painted a shade of deep blue by y/n and already chipped, thumped against the surface of the table. y/n could tell whatever he was beginning to suggest wouldn’t be something she liked just from the tone of his voice.

“So?”

“Why Bill?” Oh.

“I don’t know what you mean.” She knew exactly what he meant.

“Why do you like ole Big Bill?” The nickname had slipped out unconsciously. The nickname Richie hadn’t heard in years. The nickname Richie hadn’t said in years. It felt exotic on his lips, but comforting, like a hug from his mom.

Why did she like Bill? y/n asked herself silently. She was gnawing on the inside of her cheek when the question popped up again and the sound of Bill’s voice startled her.

“What’s ruh-ruh-wrong? Juh-juh-hust tell me what I can do, and I’ll ff-fix it.” What was wrong? Seemingly, everything was perfect. The boy y/n had been crushing on for years was finally in her reach—her grasp, even. Bill’s head turned to face y/n, but his arm stayed tightly coiled around her side. It wasn’t the same as Richie’s possessive hold from two months ago. His hand that played with the fabric of her shirt felt cold. Bill felt cold.

It couldn’t be that she missed Richie, no. Richie was busy—probably swapping spit with one Vanessa Jennings. Vanessa with the light brown hair and curls that framed her not-too-big head ever so perfectly. Vanessa who never needed a tan. Vanessa with the long legs that were probably wrapped—

But it didn’t matter. y/n was busy, too. The Bill Denbrough was at her side and she couldn’t have asked for anything else. She didn’t need anything else. Not when his red flannel hugged her torso because are you could? My parents won’t let me turn up the heat, but I can offer you this. Like a gentleman, he proceeded to strip the flannel from his bodice, leaving him in a white baseball tee.

“Why would you think something’s wrong?” y/n looked at Bill then looked down to see the nails she had just painted were now ruined. She looked up again. “Nothing’s wrong,” she assured, not all convincingly.

“You just… yo-you ha-haven’t-t s-s-said anything since you cuh-cuh-walked in.”

“I haven’t?” y/n asked, now picking at the tip of her thumb, hoping what had taken two weeks to grow out would magically regrow in seconds. Saving his voice, Bill only shook his head.

“You nuh-know you can tuh-tell me. Ruh-right?” y/n nodded but what could she tell him?

Sorry I’ve been holding a massive crush on you for years like one holds a cleaver over their head but all of a sudden I’m into this guy I met in my art class who never brushes his hair and writes ‘smoking and smoking hot’ on his college resume.

“I think I’m just tired,” she lied while also feigning a yawn. She covered her mouth when it opened, pretending to be sleepy.

“Do-do you want me to tuh-take you home?” Bill asked. He was just as thoughtful as Richie. He was just as handsome as Richie, maybe even more. So why couldn’t y/n bring herself to like him as much as Richie? His arm left from her side and he used it to pick up the remote, turning the tv off. The worst part was, that when Bill’s hand stopped playing with the fabric of the flannel she wore and his arm left her frame, she didn’t feel a coldness that would usually wash over her when Richie’s arm left her. She felt free.

“I don’t want our afternoon to be spoiled,” y/n said. Her eyebrows furrowed and even though she knew she was lying through her teeth, she wanted to make this work. After all these years of pining for her study partner and favorite Derry High baseball player, she needed for this to work. To see the vision she’d created in her head, just a mere two years ago, collapse in front of her very eyes broke her. But at the same time, she was indifferent. Why should she care about the boy in front of her when the boy she actually wanted was a neighborhood away?

“Tr-trust me. It-it’s not.” Bill shrugged. He stood up and offered y/n his hand which she didn’t take. Instead, she sat there, planted in her same seat, waiting for him to continue. “I can tuh-take you home. And wuh-we can hang out to-tomorrow. You nuh-know when you’re well rested.” All of the sudden, this felt very real. Hanging out with Bill felt real. Being at his house felt real. And though his efforts were valiant, y/n couldn’t accept the offer.

A smile graced her lips and Bill mirrored that. “Yeah, okay. Uh, take me home—please.”

y/n stood up and Bill guided her to the door and to Zach Denbrough’s car as if she hadn’t had the place memorized from when she first came over for a History project they’d been assigned to do.

What did she ever see in him?

“I don’t know.” y/n’s shoulders bopped up and down and even though her figure was hunched, Richie still thought she looked graceful.

“Are you just sayin’ that or did you end up falling in love with little ole me and you can’t think of anything?” Just then, their milkshakes arrived. Both in frosted glass and both with a cherry on top. A feeling of relief swallowed the lump in her throat, or maybe that was the taste of vanilla ice cream now that she was given some time, and a reason, to stall. y/n hated how on-the-nose Richie could be. But she also loved that about him. He could be so, so unexpectedly smart about some things. Things that were right in front of her that she’d never even notice until Richie pointed it out. “Oh, come on.” Richie’s words would’ve sliced through the silence in the air if it weren’t for the chatter of other people and jukebox playing in the background. “Seriously, y/n/n, there’s gotta be something that drew you to him.”

“Well… he’s nice.”

“Okay cut the crap.”

“What?” y/n asked, finding herself annoyed that she not only had to reveal her feelings to a boy she may or may not like but also because he’s nice apparently wasn’t a sufficient enough answer.

“I need an actual answer. Not some bullshit response like he’s nice or he’s funny. Anyone can be nice or funny, y/n.”

“Well, whether you like it or not, Bill is nice. He’s genuine, and cares about the people around him… Selfless.”

Richie was upset at her response. Not because y/n countered his argument in a way he was left speechless but because she was right. Bill was the nice guy and Richie… wasn’t. Bill was the one who looked out for others, making sure they were okay. He was the one who made sure no one got left behind. He was the one everyone looked up to—not Richie, Bill. It was always Bill. Whereas Richie’s just the guy who stands in the background making funny noises only to be told to shut up.

“Yeah… Bill is nice.”

“Don’t tell me you’re my competition, Tozier.” y/n laughed at the oddity of fighting with Richie for the chance to be with Bill.

“Nah,” Richie shook his head, his hair flying in any direction possible. “You’re lucky I’m not, though. You wouldn’t have the chance, babe.”

y/n wanted to eat her heart out at the usage of babe in such an informal setting where they didn’t have to pretend, but the maraschino cherry resting on top of the pile of whipped cream would suffice. “Do you still like Vanessa?” The words tumbled from y/n’s mouth like they were nothing. But embarrassment replaced the blood flowing through her veins once she was aware of what she just said.

“It’s… complicated,” Richie said honestly, not caring that y/n might’ve crossed boundaries just then.

“What’s complicated?” y/n cocked her head like a puppy questioning why its master was making weird hand motions.

“You’ll understand when you’re older, kid.” Richie didn’t mean to come off as condescending, but he did.

“I’m the same age as you.” y/n crossed her arms after pushing away the half-empty, frosted glass in front of her.

Ignoring the red straw in his drink, Richie brought the edge of the glass to his lips and swallowed the thick shake. “Here’s the thing. Vanessa and I go way back.”

“How far is way back if you only dated her for four months?” y/n regretted even bringing her up. Maybe it was different back then, back when the two were actually dating. But now, y/n couldn’t remember a time when someone said the name ‘Richie Tozier’ and her heart didn’t feel like it would explode into a collision of fireworks.

“Four and a half,” Richie corrected with a grin breaking out on his lips. “But I dunno. She’s just special.”

“Special as in…?” y/n probed, and she hated herself for her big mouth that wouldn’t stop applying lemon juice to an obviously open wound.

“I love her.” Richie took another drink of Cookies n Cream, which was more cream than cookies, and y/n sat there in shock. She would be silly to think that after all these weeks, Richie would feel the same way about her. After all, he had a life outside of the fake one they’d construed. Or maybe Richie was just less emotionally confined to these sorts of things. He knew better than to get caught up in a fake relationship. Of course he would.

But knowing Richie still loved his ex, struck something in y/n’s core. And the fact that he was able to say it in such a nonchalant manner—such casualty—only dug deeper at the pit in her stomach.

“You love her?” y/n asked, her mouth still full of the sweet treat he’d pay for later in the evening.

“Love. Loved.” Richie shrugged like this was nothing—well, maybe this was nothing. Maybe y/n was the speck of dust on his shirt and him shrugging was the last of her existence from his being leaving. “What’s the difference?”

“There’s a big difference.” y/n wanted to scream. Luckily, she had enough self-perseverance to keep her composure. She swallowed. “One is past tense, and one is present tense.”

“How ‘bout I put it this way.” Richie set aside his drink so now nothing was blocking his view of y/n. He leaned forward and rested his hands on the table. “I don’t like…” He paused. Revealing that he had no intention in getting back with his once first love would possibly wreck this whole thing. “If Vanessa asked, I’d probably get back with her,” Richie finally said, thinking that must’ve been a suitable way to word the jumble of letters floating around in his head like alphabet soup.

“You would?” y/n asked, feeling like a little kid all over again.

Richie didn’t say anything.

“Do you and her still…”

“Still what?”

“Talk, I guess is what I’m trying to say.” y/n messed with her fingers, pulling at a hangnail she’d know she’d regret doing when it got to later in the night.

“Nah. But don’t worry about it, sweets.” Richie took out his wallet only to be met with a picture of the dreaded girl they’d just been talking about. He gulped. His spit tasted like Oreos and he knew he’d have a stomachache later. Richie thumbed out a ten-dollar bill and five ones to keep Alexander Hamilton company. “Ole Vanessa could never get in the way of you if that’s what you’re wonderin’.”

It was what she was wondering.

But she’d never let Richie know that. y/n crossed her arms tighter around her torso because right now it felt like Richie could see right through her.

Richie drove her home in the same way Bill would a month from that night. But Richie had a better taste in music and y/n was actually sad to part from him when he left her at her doorstep.

“I’m really sorry I had to cut our time short,” y/n said. She was sorry.

“It’s ff-fine. I al-already sai—”

“Yeah, but I feel awful, Bill.” y/n finally mucked up the courage to look him in the eye. Those blue eyes that’d been searching for hers all afternoon. “This was probably like… the worst first date in the history of first dates.”

“Ih-it’s not so bad. But that duh-depends on how muh-many first dates you’ve been on.” Bill laughed and y/n was trying to figure out what was funny about what he said.

“You’ve been on worse ones?” y/n asked anxiously.

“Luh-let’s just say th-they duh-didn’t get a second date.”

y/n nodded while her hands started to search for the keys in her purse.

“I’ll ss-see you tuh-tomorrow?”

“Or at my funeral. Whichever comes first.” For a moment, the bad thoughts cleared from the surface of y/n’s head. Laughter was the only thing she was aware of for a moment.

“Bye, y/n/n.”

“Bye, Richie,” y/n said bashfully. Her hands were strewn behind her back because she didn’t know what they would do if they weren’t. He was about to walk off—off into the moonlight. And y/n would have to wait until Monday to see him again. It was one day too long because she knew even though the two of them had nothing better to do tomorrow, he’d see it as just friends whereas y/n would see it… differently. “Richie, wait!”

“What?” Richie turned around. His hands sat inside of his front pockets and his posture was slumped, as always.

“Thanks… for tonight.” Richie nodded, and validation from him served as a sick kind of ego booster that egged y/n to keep going. “They really are the best milkshakes in town.”

“Yeah.” Richie’s scratchy voice soothed y/n under the frosty air that came from winters in Maine. y/n stepped closer, her hands still behind her back.

“Did you have a good time?”

“You know I always have a good time when I’m with you.” Richie nudged y/n’s elbow with his but was taken aback by her hands that now gripped his shoulders and how suddenly close she was against him.

y/n kissed him on the cheek, not daring to go for his lips because who’s ever heard of a kiss goodbye on the cheek? Is probably what Stacy Howards would retort back to her after she’d spill the happenings of Saturday night to Derry High’s favorite cheerleader in study hall.

His cheek tasted like salt and Irish Spring—that is, if she knew what Irish Spring tasted like. Which she definitely didn’t.

She didn’t linger long. Richie wished she stayed longer. The kiss was short and sweet and the taste of vanilla on her lips replaced a fraction of his cheek that tasted like body wash and sodium chloride.

“Goodnight,” y/n said, now finally coming to her senses.

“Ye-yeah.” Richie blinked, an alternative to pinching himself in front of the girl he’d been pretending to date. “Night.” But after pretending for so long, Richie couldn’t help but notice the less it felt like pretending.

y/n closed the door behind her with a slam, making sure to lock it in case intruders were in the neighborhood. Now that Bill was gone, her first instinct was to call up Richie—tell him that the date went well, and how he was such a great friend, and thanks for the help. But there were only so many times she could lie to a boy she felt feelings so deeply for. The first, coincidentally, was when Richie had asked how things were going with Bill.

“Make any progress so far?” Richie asked with a face full of ham. They were eating lunch together, per usual. But this time, unlike the many times before, the hand that wasn’t holding his sandwich was rubbing circles on y/n’s small hand that Richie’s swallowed.

“Comme ci comme ça.” y/n smiled to herself at her basic understanding any French One student would master. “It’s going alright…” y/n had never been a natural liar. Whenever she told her parents she had cleaned her room when she, in fact, didn’t, the hairs on the back of her neck stood to attention and her forearm broke out in an itch she could never quite scratch. But her internal biological workings had given her a break today. There was no itch and her hairs stayed in place from when she styled her hair that morning.

“What’s alright?” Richie questioned, though it sounded more like an interrogation.

“He started talking to me more.”

“He didn’t already talk to you?” Richie’s eyebrow rose because how were you supposed to fall for a guy you barely talked to?

“Well, yeah, he talks to me.” The pad of Richie’s thumb that was drawing slow circles onto y/n’s knuckles turned into lines. Back and forth. Back and forth. “But he used to talk to me about classwork and… you know, like, school.” Richie smiled when she talked. He was happy for his friend. He truly was. But he couldn’t stand the fact that the guy she was talking about wasn’t him—let alone, his former best friend. “And in APUSH, instead of asking about my grade or whatever, he… asked about me.”

“What’d Mister Charming have to say?”

Mister Charming sat two seats away from y/n. But that didn’t stop him from talking to her. Every now and then, Bill would steal glances at the girl from his peripheral vision. Sometimes, if he were feeling bold, he’d turn to face her—but that action only occurred when she was speaking. Today, however, was different. Today he’d talk to her.

Lucky for Bill, the pencil sharpener sat in the back of class—close to where y/n’s seat was.

“Hey.”

y/n looked up from her textbook. She didn’t want to assume the hushed voice was for her—but she had to figure the tap on her shoulder was.

“Hi.” She set her pencil down and folded her arms flat on the desk. “What’s up?” y/n swore she sounded insane. Who says what’s up—

“Th-the sky.” Bill’s smile made cloudy days seem cloudless. “I was wuh-wondering ih—” He swallowed the trail of saliva that gathered in the back of his throat. “If… are yo-you and Ruh-Richie like…”

“No!” y/n said quickly and a little too loudly.

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Muh-maybe we cuh-could hang out… This Saturday work?” A stroke of nervousness flitted across his features for a second even though Bill didn’t have anything to be nervous about. The rest of y/n’s words got caught in her throat and she instinctively found herself writing down her number on the scratch piece of paper Mr. Ferguson passed out for notetaking.

“Call me.”

Bill did call. Which was precisely how y/n was stuck frozen in time; her back slanted against the door and her thoughts racing against one another.

She had two options at hand. Call Richie. Find Richie. Or wait it out for tomorrow when Bill’s same car would be in her driveway, waiting for her.

But a third option was already at y/n’s doorstep, contemplating ringing the doorbell.

Richie Tozier stood outside of y/n’s front door, palms sweaty and unusually anxious for confrontation. His pale fingers knotted together. It was their way of stalling from interacting with y/n for as long as possible—or as long as curfew would allow him to.

“Hey.” His stalling attempt was left unsuccessful when y/n opened the door. Ironically, he was just the person she had hoped to run into. “What are… what are you doing?”

“Me?” Richie’s eyebrows stitched together, and he pointed to himself with his index finger.

“You’re the only one here,” y/n deadpanned.

“I was just in the neighborhood, y’know. Doin’ neighborly things.”

“You don’t live in this neighborhood.” Richie feigned laughter but this time y/n didn’t laugh with him. “Seriously, Rich, why are you here? You knew I had my date with Bill and—”

“And what?” His tone grew firm, like it had grabbed her by the hand and urged whatever was eating at her insides out of her.

“And I don’t think you should be here, after I just got done with my date with somebody else!” y/n said with a shaky breath. She could feel her heartbeat almost burning through her chest that rose and fell harshly.

“How was it? Your date?” Richie had calmed down, but y/n didn’t.

“It went bad. Is that what you wanted to hear?” y/n muttered, but it could’ve been mistaken for a yell.

“No, why would you think—hold on. What’s up with you?” Richie’s hands stuffed themselves in his front pocket. His posture was hunched over, and his face now screwed together, trying to understand the girl standing before him.

“I don’t know.” The flame that had once ignited y/n’s lively spirits had died down. “I just. It didn’t go well, that’s all,” y/n said, unable to coax the words she actually wanted to say out of her lips.

“He wasn’t an asshole, was he?” Richie’s tone was protective—nothing y/n would expect from him two months ago when she’d gotten themselves into this mess.

“No! No.” y/n was complicated. First, she’d spew off about how her date was bad and now she was defending said date?

“God, y/n/n, can you just make up your mind?”

She could do that.

“You were right,” y/n declared.

“What?”

“Don’t make me say it again.” Her voice lowered to a whisper, but Richie could still make out what she was saying.

“Well, I’m always right, toots. I just need context—”

“About the fake dating thing. How eventually one person’s bound to fall for the other…” Her toes curled from under the white Converse she hadn’t had time to slip off. They were worn and the bottoms were yellowing from the number of times she’d matched them to an outfit. “And you don’t look like you’re on your knees, so.”

“So, what?” y/n didn’t notice the smirk edging on the corners of Richie’s lips.

“Tozier, don’t make me say it.”

“You have to, or God knows how long we’ll be standing on this fuckin’ porch,” Richie said patiently. Patient. Richie was never patient—always the one to urge his friends to hurry the fuck up, always the one to ask are we there yet? But this time he was. His figure stood still and ominous, like Santa on Christmas Eve. His breathing held steady in his lungs that had seen more smoke than his mother’s kitchen and his feet stood planted on the concrete stoop of y/n’s house and they’d stay there until she told him the very damned thing she didn’t want to.

“I like you, okay?” y/n knew if she blinked, the dam of tears in her eyes would finally burst and the last thing she wanted was having Richie Tozier see her cry. Well, second to last thing. The first thing on that list had already happened. “Look, I know you’re still in love with Van-Vanessa.” It hurt to say the girl’s name because she wasn’t just a girl, she was Richie’s ex. “But you asked me to say it and I did. So there.”

y/n was about to turn back. Back into her house and back out of this friendship. It was only because Richie laughed that y/n stopped. His chuckle was like music, not the kind that Richie blasted in his car with the windows down, but like a symphony. And if y/n were any less mortified right now, maybe she’d stop to admire it—him—for one second more.

She was about to ask why. Why are you mocking me when I’m so clearly in a vulnerable state right now? Why are you mocking me after I’d just shared something so deep and personal with the likes of you? About the likes of you? But y/n didn’t get the chance when Richie surged forward and pressed a kiss against her lips. She could feel her heart pick up even more at the taste of him: spearmint and tobacco. She thought it’d stabilize itself once his lips left hers, but it didn’t. His taste lingered and at the time it felt permanent, like a red stain on white furniture.

“Like I said. Ole Vanessa could never get in the way of you.” His breath hit her face, warm and intoxicating, and y/n could only think that kissing Richie on the lips was way better than kissing him on the cheek.

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tinylilemrys · 5 years

Text

Symmetry – a Reddie fic

Read it on AO3

Pairing: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier

Rating: T

Word count: 1,814

Tags: Marriage Proposal, Fluff, Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Character Death Fix, What Could Have Been

Summary: Richie was always sure he couldn’t possibly love Eddie more than he already did, but then he would learn another of his quirks and his heart would grow another size. He had no idea how Eddie did it, but the asshole had a way of challenging everything he thought he knew about his heart.

Though he knew that the next thought that popped into his head was impulsive, there was no way he could wait anymore. Telling Eddie he was just getting something from the drawer in his nightstand, he rolled away and rummaged around for a few minutes before his hand closed around a small velvet box.

Richie used to dread coming back to his apartment every night. Though it was undoubtedly luxurious, it was mostly enormous and empty and the large windows that lined the outward-facing walls of his apartment made it him feel like he was in a reptile tank or something. Since Eddie had moved in with him, however, he hadn’t felt that way. Eddie had made it home.

The thought occurred to him as the two of them lay in bed, Eddie on his phone and Richie preparing for his next comedy special. Realising that he probably wasn’t going to get any further in the process now that he was thinking about Eddie, he set down his tablet on his nightstand and turned to watch his boyfriend tapping away on his phone.

He had sworn for years that he wasn’t the type to settle down, that no one was going to matter enough to him for that to even be an option, but he didn’t have all the facts at the time. It had taken just meeting Eddie’s eyes across the room at the Chinese restaurant for him to realise that the reason for his commitment issues was that after all these years, and despite forgetting that the man existed for a good portion of his life, he was still hopelessly in love with him. The revelation that he was married had initially come as a blow, but as the two of them talked and caught up after all the years apart, it became clear how unhappy his marriage was and something like hope began to flare up in Richie again.

There had been some brief, albeit fairly traumatic bullshit with a demon clown, but they had miraculously all survived it (even Stan, though his situation had been really touch-and-go for a while), Eddie had divorced Myra as soon as he got back to New York and now the two of them lived in Richie’s over the top LA apartment and Richie got to watch his boyfriend’s handsome and ruggedly scarred profile while he concentrated intently on whatever he was doing on his phone.

What was he doing on his phone? The incessant tapping suggested that he wasn’t texting or scrolling through any of his social media apps, so it had to be a mobile game. Shuffling closer under the guise of wanting to cuddle (though only just barely under the guise – he always wanted to cuddle Eddie), he snuck a glance at his phone and was amused to find that he was playing Tetris.

“Oh my god, you’re still playing it after all these years?” he blurts out, unable to contain his delight at this revelation.

“Shut up, it’s a classic,” Eddie retorted, eyes not breaking from his game.

“I’m not disputing that. I’m just ecstatic to finally find myself in a position where you’ll let me watch.”

“Baby, you know how much I love you, but I swear to god if you distract me and make me fuck up in the first five minutes of this round I’m going to fucking rage as you’ve never seen me rage.”

“Noted,” Richie laughed and leaned his head on his shoulder to finally, after all these years, watch him play the only game in the arcade that Eddie had ever really seemed to properly enjoy. He was never allowed to watch him play before (Eddie always said he was far too distracting), though he was starting to think that the real reason was an embarrassment at the way that he played Tetris. It was so fucking tidy. Where there was an S-tetromino on one side, there was a corresponding Z-tetromino on the other. Same with the L and J tetrominoes. The result was a complex, but perfectly balanced board.

“You play Tetris symmetrically?” He asked incredulously.

“As far as I can,” Eddie replied. His cheeks were flushed with colour.

“Doesn’t that just needlessly complicate everything? You’re just filling up your board without actually clearing anything.”

“It’s how I like doing it, alright?” said Eddie, cursing as he set down a piece in the wrong place, throwing off his symmetry.

“Ah fuck, sorry, baby. That was probably my bad,” said Richie, pressing a small kiss to Eddie’s shoulder.

“No, don’t worry, it had to happen at some point. Once that happens, I just play the game normally. I just like challenging myself to see how long I can keep it balanced.”

Richie was always sure he couldn’t possibly love Eddie more than he already did, but then he would learn another of his quirks and his heart would grow another size. He had no idea how Eddie did it, but the asshole had a way of challenging everything he thought he knew about his heart.

Eddie was concentrating far too hard to acknowledge what Richie may or may not have retrieved from his drawer and though Richie’s heart was racing now that he knew what he was going to do in a few minutes, he watched Eddie’s game with fascination. If the high score in the corner of the screen was anything to go by, Eddie was really good and he seemed to have a sixth sense about where to put the pieces so that the pieces coming up would fit perfectly.

When he managed to completely clear his board despite the mess it had been moments before, Richie let out an impressed laugh.

“See, now and then if you’re lucky, you get a fresh start,” said Eddie, already beginning to set out his tetrominoes symmetrically again.

“I have never found you sexier than I do right now,” Richie replied without a scrap of irony.

Eddie laughed.

“I should play stupid arcade games more often.”

“You should.” He pressed another kiss to Eddie’s shoulder. “Makes you irresistible.”

“Okay, remember when we said no distractions? This is very distracting.”

“I’ll bet it is,” he said, scraping his teeth lightly over the skin he’d been kissing a moment ago and enjoying the huff of frustration he received for his efforts. “I’ll stop now though I swear.”

Though Eddie put up a good fight – even managing to best his previous high score – his game ended a few moments later and Richie’s heart kicked into high gear. Needing something to anchor him again, he kissed Eddie and revelled in the way that Eddie always kissed back with such longing and desire. There was usually nothing that Richie wanted more than to melt into that kiss, but he was still holding the velvet box and had an important question to ask.

“Hold on, babe,” he said, pulling back from Eddie. “This is great and I can’t wait to get back to it, but I first need to talk to you about something.”

He watched the concern and anxiety flash across Eddie's face and pressed a quick reassuring kiss to his forehead.

“It’s a good thing, I promise,” he said. “Firstly, this past year, having you here with me has been the best of my life. I thought when I was buying a king-sized bed I was just giving myself extra space to starfish at night. I never could have imagined us both starfishing together, or the way that you hog all the covers because you’re so small that you’re in danger of hypothermia all the time and have to protect your tiny frame with a cocoon of cosy.”

Eddie scoffed and began playing with Richie’s hair.

“I couldn’t imagine how fucking adorable I’d find you first thing in the morning when your hair is sticking up in all directions and the way you always turn and smile like you’re surprised to see me. And like shit, Eddie, for that alone you deserve way more than the amount of effort I’m about to put into this.

“The thing is, I wanted to do this perfectly because you deserve perfection, but since I’m also a messy and impulsive bitch and because the way you play Tetris is just so fucking you, this is how it’s going down.”

He opened the box and held it between the two of them. Eddie’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates and though Richie began to doubt himself, there was no sense in stopping now.

“I realised, watching you play now, that I can’t live without you. Not again. And though I have no idea how to put this in any kind of eloquent way like Bill or Ben would be able to, I love you more than anything in the world and I want to spend every day for the rest of our lives proving it to you. So, Eddie Kaspbrak, would you make me the luckiest motherfucker on earth by being my husband?”

Eddie didn’t reply. Instead, he grabbed either side of Richie’s face and kissed him. It was deep and sweet and just so perfect in the way it hadn’t been with anyone else that Richie was annoyed that it had taken him as long as it had to do this. When they broke apart, Richie kissed the tip of Eddie’s nose and looked into his eyes.

“I take it that’s a yes then?”

“Yes, yes, yes, so much fucking yes,” said Eddie, letting Richie slide the ring onto his finger. “For the record, I also have a ring downstairs in my jacket pocket. I’ve been trying to find the right moment to ask you.”

“Ah fuck, I should have just let you do it. You’ve done it before,” laughed Richie, pulling Eddie close and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “If it wasn’t clear, the answer would have been yes.”

“You’re such an ass,” Eddie laughed and the two of them lay cuddled in blissful silence for a few moments before Richie laughed again.

“I can’t believe I’m going to have a husband,” he said. “I can’t believe I’m going to be a husband. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that it was the least I could do after the number of times you’ve saved my life,” Eddie replied. “I mean it’s obvious that you have a crush on me or something.”

“Now who’s being an ass?”

And the two of them burst into peals of laughter that had very little to do with Richie’s remark and all to do with the relief and excitement that came with knowing that after all the years of pain and longing and fear and loss, the rest of their lives lay ahead of them, bright and hopeful.

And beautiful, thought Richie, pressing a kiss to the scar on Eddie’s cheek.

#reddie #richie x eddie #eddie x richie #reddie fanfic #reddie fic #reddie fanfiction #more fluff for your lives #fix it #long post

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reddieao3feed · 4 years

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A Priori

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/31BFRYs

by catacrypts (ghostforests)

Eddie Kaspbrak has never come home. Maine, the state he was born and raised in, had never had much return value in Eddie’s eyes. He has a life, a soon to be fiancé, a stable income, and no room for nostalgia in his budget. When his income forces him to finally go back, he unwittingly unlocks the door that lets Richie Tozier back into his life, and with him, what Eddie’s been missing his entire life. But give it time. They’ve got a long way to go first.

Words: 10825, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: IT - Stephen King, IT (Movies - Muschietti)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: M/M

Characters: Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier, Mike Hanlon, Bill Denbrough, Beverly Marsh, Stanley Uris, Patricia Blum Uris, Ben Hanscom, assorted Derry cast, Myra Kaspbrak

Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Myra Kaspbrak, Reddie - Relationship

Additional Tags: have you ever driven at night in Maine, dont, Blood and Gore, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Derry (Stephen King), the clown is in this one sorry, little bit different though, for flavor, all jokes aside this is going to be horror, Eventual Relationships, Sick Character, (but it’s not Eddie), Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Road Trips, Sharing a Bed, /hotel room, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, it’ll start tame and get closer to horror as we go, Delusions, Manipulation, Emotional Manipulation, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, I promise there are many good and happy moments in this, Intricate Rituals, Eddie and Richie possessing precisely no common sense between the two of them, Slow Burn, of sorts, Memory Loss, Rating will change

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/31BFRYs

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #reddie #it (2017)#richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak

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writeyourownlifestory · 4 years

Text

L I G H T S U P

Chapters: 3/20 Fandom: IT Rating: M Warnings: No warnings at this time Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Beverly Marsh/Ben Hanscom Additional Tags: PunkRocker!Eddie, Writer!Richie, Beveddie!Friendship, No Clown Written by: myself & @ahardlife Tag list: @richietoaster, @beproudtozier, @that-weird-girls-blog, @s-onora, @s-s-georgie, @bellarosewrites, @iamcupcakefrosting, @reddieonwheels, @ghostnebula, @madidraw @madi-main, @gazebobullshit, @thoughtfullyyoungduck, @airbenderking

Puff piece writer Richie Tozier is given the chance of a lifetime to interview his celebrity crush: Dr. K, the lead singer of punk rock band, Trashmouth. Dr. K is about to release his first solo album and Richie wants to get all the dirty details. But all is not what it appears to be and the two realize they know each other from a different time, in a different place, when they were both very different people.

Chapters One, Two

Kill My Mind - Louis Tomlinson

You kill my mind Raise my body back to life And I don't know what I'd do without you now

Kept me living From the last time From a prison of a past life On a mission just to feel like When you kissed me for the last time

While he may not have been the most studious of those who worked at Paper Boat magazine, Richie was anything if not professional. He stayed up throughout the night as he pieced together the interview to send to Bill. He wanted to ace that job, mind you. Even if he just did fluff pieces and bullshit reports, he always made sure his work was coherent and easy to read.

When the following day came, he made his way back into the studio, clutching a large coffee with a double shot, recalling what the singer said again and again.

What the fuck did he mean by it was nice to see you again?

He thought about all the people he had met throughout the years in the industry and nope. Dr. K wasn’t on that list. He had been a fan of Trashmouth since he was a junior in college, there is no fucking way he would have forgotten meeting him even if it was early on in his career.

As he made his way to his cubby, he stumbled into Georgie, who was adjusting his camera and making his way down to the designated photoshoot area.

“Jesus, you look terrible. What happened to you?” Was the first thing he asked him.

“Thanks for the support, little man. I appreciate it,” he commented with a chuckle. “I had to edit the interview and it took longer than expected.” He admitted sipping at his coffee, trying to make it seem casual.

He also stayed awake, examining the selfie he had taken moments before the bombshell. He had seen Dr. K’s face nearly every day for the past eight years. Richie was very sure if they had met before, he would have recognized him.

You don’t just forget about meeting a fucking rockstar even if you met them before their star status.

“Oh, right,” the guy nodded, going back to set his camera. “He’ll be here in five. The singer guy. His assistant just called me,” he informed.

Sometimes he forgot that Georgie was nearly ten years younger than Bill. Still in college with a lush career on his shoulders all thanks to his brother’s connections. He would be jealous of the little fucker if he wasn’t such a damn sweetheart.

“Cool. Cool cool.”

“You can come along if you want. No one is allowed access other than me and Bill, but since you’re doing the expose on him, I don’t see why you shouldn’t be there too.”

“Oh. Right. Thanks.”

And he was panicking again. He really shouldn’t be because like Georgie said, he was just a singer guy. Except he wasn’t. He was Dr. K. Lead -- former -- lead singer of Trashmouth. A band that meant more to Richie than he is proud to admit at this very moment.

As they made their way down to the secluded area, Richie’s mouth started watering. Was that normal? He’d have to check with a doctor. A real one. True to words, Dr. K and Beverly arrived a few minutes later with Bill in tow. Georgie greeted them kindly, while Richie just stood off awkwardly to the side, staring out at him like a psycho as Georgie explained what they wanted him to do.

It wasn’t going to be anything wild. Richie had seen other promotional photos of the man and while some of them helped him get through some very lonely nights, this wasn’t going to be like that. They weren’t giving him stupid props or greasing him up.

He would wear the clothes he came in with (black jeans and a black and white checkered button-down), and Bill would talk to him throughout it just to keep him confident and relaxed. It was pretty standard with Paper Boat. They wanted real people so having a photoshoot that was more photoshopped than anything wasn’t their cup of tea.

Giving Georgie a minute to set up, Richie watched as Dr. K approached him, that particular smile sitting so comfortably across his lips. It only made Richie more nervous.

“Hey Richie,” He greeted him casually.

“Hey! Hi. Good morning,” He rambled out, his hand still clutching his coffee. “Excited for the shoot?”

“Nothing new to me to be honest, though I do appreciate your boss not lathering me up in lube.” He admitted with a small shrug.

“That was a great shoot. I mean, I doubt it was comfortable and it had to be a bitch to wash off, but ten out of ten stars for me.” He mentioned, rolling on the balls of his feet. He was teetering. Waiting. Waiting for what though? If he didn’t spit it out he would miss his chance and then the mystery would only continue. “Hey, can I ask you something real quick?”

“Shoot.”

“Yesterday, at the interview before you left, remember? You- you said it was nice to see me again,” he started, pausing as Beverly came over, passing Dr. K his own cup of coffee.

Richie took a slow sip of his mouth, hoping to quench his throat that was suddenly very dry.

Dr. K thanked her, sipping at his cup as Beverly left them again. “Mhm, I remember.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about it and honestly dude, I don’t remember ever meeting you.” He finally confessed. “Did we like, have a class together in school? I highly doubt it because you were touring while I was getting my bachelor's, but I really can’t find you anywhere in my mind. And trust me, I would remember someone like you. Cute, and sexy, and talented. You’re like a triple threat and I have like, seven shirts with your face on it, plus multiple pictures of you in my apartment, and I’ve seen you perform sixteen times in the past eight years, and I should stop talking now because Bill is literally right there and told me I shouldn’t embarrass myself and me-“

Dr. K started laughing then, soft and sweet. His smile only grew and those dark eyes shimmered almost lovingly. “Beep beep, Richie.”

And after that he was whisked away by Georgie. They didn’t apply much makeup other than some powder to help with the shine. Richie was left standing like a fool, watching as Dr. K was placed where they wanted him and Bill began talking to him as the photoshoot began.

“Beep beep?” Richie muttered aloud, trying to remember where he heard that before.

Until it clicked.

“Beep beep, Richie!”

Richie laughed aloud, turning back to make sure the other boy was still behind him. It was summer and they were kids, which meant they were going to do whatever the hell they wanted to do without a single care in the world. Their town was small and boring, so what else were two ten year old kids supposed to do? Sit at home and watch cartoons?

They rode their bikes around town, finally making it to the standpipe where they could have a bit of privacy. They went there more often than not, as it was the only place in the whole damn town that wasn’t a waste of space.

They hurried inside, just as they had so many times before. As children, preteens, and then finally teenages. Sure, two ten year olds running a muck was pretty annoying, but it was the thirteen year olds that caused the most trouble, with their potty mouths and terrible ideas.

Richie lead the other boy inside, sneaking through the rickety door and up, up, up the stairs until they reached the very top. It was the only place high enough where you could see beyond Derry. See the horizon as the sun set down and actually know there was more of this world than just their shitty town.

“All right, Rapunzel! I’ve brought you back to your tower, far away from that terrible, terrible witch that kept you captive!”

“That’s not even how the story goes, dumbass.” The other boy laughed.

His words were meant to be cruel, but they weren’t. And his gaze wasn’t one of disdain but appreciation. Richie adjusted his glasses, moving closer to the other boy. “Either way, I’m still the prince charming, here to save the beautiful prince.”

The other boy rolled his eyes fondly.

“If your mom puts you under a sleeping spell, I’ll have to be the one to kiss you awake.” Richie announced.

“Wrong princess, Richie.”

“You do look rather sleepy, Eds. Maybe I should try it now? Just for practice?”

“Beep beep, Richie.” The other boy replied, pulling the taller boy in to kiss him softly.

Richie hurried out of the studio, going up the stairs and out onto the street to gather from fresh air. He felt a tightness in his stomach that he hadn’t dealt with in a very long time. He was sweaty and jumpy as people moved along the street beside him. It was as if he had seen a ghost and in some ways, he had.

There was only one person in his life who said those words to him; the mocking clown nose sound that would be used to sensor him or shut him up.

It was him. After all these years. After all the nightmares. After all the therapy sessions he finally walked back into his life.

Eddie Kaspbrak.

They had been friends since kindergarten. Best friends almost right off the bat. Eddie was a shy kid who didn’t do well with crowds and Richie was a class clown who was shunned from all other cliques due to how obnoxious he was even from an early age.

They were two people who didn’t belong in the small town they were trapped inside. Two boys who shared common interests and scars, and more importantly, secrets.

Eddie Kaspbrak was the reason Richie turned into such a basket case, so afraid to come out of his shell and be proud of who he was.

And it was Dr. K that helped Richie step out of the darkness and into the light.

Now it appeared they were one in the same.

There was no other way around it. Nobody else had ever said such a thing to him. “Beep beep” had been their thing, the thing Eddie would say to get him to stop talking back when they were just kids. There was no possible way anybody else would know that.

After finally realizing he wasn’t happy with the life had been living Richie went to therapy where he basically cried out every sad story he had to tell. In the end the therapist suggested he reach out to his old pal. Richie looked him up on every social media account he could but there was no sign of him anywhere.

It was like he didn’t exist anymore.

In the back of his mind Richie thought the worst and he had good reason to. Things didn’t end well for them back when they were kids. They were torn apart due to the prejudices of society and the pure hatred from Eddie’s mother. He always wondered what happened to his friend, especially since it was very clear that he and Eddie were more than friends.

There was a time when he used to think they were fucking soulmates. It was silly to think and he was just thirteen when those thoughts popped into his head into his head but back then he didn’t care.

It was just him and Eddie against the world. But the world ended up winning in the end.

Richie left the studio then, unsure of how he was supposed to carry on with the rest of the day with the knowledge he now had. He had practically gotten sick of it, thinking back to his childhood and how terrible things had turned out for himself.

He felt sick, like every time he got nervous about something. He felt sick and scared and happy? All of a sudden. Yes, he went to therapy because he thought his best friend was gone for good. Shit, he even called to as many conversion camps he could find information about across the country. Really, Sonia Kaspbrak would do anything to keep her son for herself.

And now Eddie was back in his life. How could he not see it? He went to sixteen concerts, got a poster of the band in his house, he even got cold showers courtesy of Dr. K. It was going to be a whole lot to process it. Process, first of all, that Eddie was alive. Two, that he was in his life again and even remembered him. And three, that he was Dr. K.

What. The. Fuck.

Richie went home hoping to collect his thoughts though it didn’t turn out the way he hoped. He was going absolutely bonkers trying to control all these new revelations that were coming his way.

He tried to get his mind off it; even jumping into the shower hoping the warm water would make him feel like a normal person again but that was all for nothing.

He had to talk to Eddie. Obviously he remembered him. Remembered the things they used to say to one another. He felt like he was going out of his mind.

Looking at the clock, he swore sharply. He would be gone from the studio by now. Richie was mentally kicking himself for running away but it’s what he did best.

There had to be another way. He was desperate but he didn’t want to give up that easily.

So he called Bill, hoping to use his small amount of improv and acting skills to get him in good. “Bill! Buddy! Shit man you’re never gonna believe this.” He spoke drastically.

He told Bill this wild story about how he was watching a documentary on Galaxy Quest that got him excited, resulting in him knocking over his coffee cup onto his computer, which short-circuited as he was editing the interview.

“I got it back up and rolling but I wasn’t able to save. Yeah, it’s gone man. All of it. I was hoping you had the number of his assistant so I could reschedule another one on one.”

“You gotta be more careful, Rich. MacBooks aren’t cheap.” Bill replied with a laugh.

He texted him the number of Dr. K’s personal assistant.

Easy as that.

Richie was ready to relay the whole story back to Beverly and when he did he thought that maybe it would be just as easy. Of course, it wasn’t.

“Mr. Denbrough asked enough questions during the photoshoot to qualify as an interview. Surely that shall suffice, Mr. Tozier.” She spoke coolly.

“It could but it wouldn’t answer the hard-hitting questions that our readers want to know about,” Richie replied. “Look it will only be a few minutes. I’ll even come to him if you give me the address.”

“I very well can't just give you the address of Dr. K’s home.” Beverly laughed off dismissively.

“Bev — can I call you Bev? — I need you to work with me here. I know I sound desperate and pathetic but I want you to know from the bottom of my heart, I am both.”

He wasn’t going to sugar coat it. He ran away because he was a weak bitch but he had to talk to Eddie about this. Needed him to fill in the gaps of their lives.

“Ten minutes, that’s all. I don’t want to waste his time, I just want to talk to him. You can even supervise if you’re worried I’m gonna jump him or anything.”

“You don’t give up easily, do you, Tozier?”

“Actually I’ve been known to give up very easily. It’s just different this time around,” Richie confessed.

The line was quiet for a moment; too quiet that Richie thought that maybe the call dropped. He pulled away to look but found Beverly continuing.

“He’s not at his current home. He’s staying at the Waldorf Suites until further notice.” She explained.

He told her the name that he was staying under and explained he would be there for the rest of the night. Richie looked down at the paper, his heart jumping in his throat when he saw the name he was currently listed under “Spaghetti” which just hit too close to him.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Mr. Tozier.” She warned lightly.

“I make zero promises, Ms. Ringwald.” He said before ending the call.

He jumped up from his seat then, rushing off to change back into his clothing so he could hit the road and get some answers.

#Lights Up #Richie Tozier #Reddie #Reddie!AU #Reddie AU #Eddie Kaspbrak #Punk rock #punk!au #Punk!Eddie Kaspbrak

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hollymartinswrites · 5 years

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Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: IT - Stephen King, IT (Movies - Muschietti) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh Characters: Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier, Ben Hanscom, Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough, Mike Hanlon, Original Child Character(s) Additional Tags: Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Domestic, Light Angst, Family Feels, Childhood Trauma, Adoption, Kid Fic, Adopted Children, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Marriage, Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier Are Parents, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Minor Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Beverly Marsh & Richie Tozier Are Best Friends Summary:

Eddie and Richie embark on the most terrifying experience of all—parenthood.

Or, the author desperately needed a domestic, family fix-it for Richie and Eddie.

Chapter II: A look into Richie and Beverly's friendship as parenthood is thrown into the mix.

“How many godfathers can one kid have?”

“Richie, we’re agnostic.”

“Hey, I believe in God, I just don’t trust organized religion,” Richie replied, hanging the framed Princess Leia poster before stepping back to observe it. “Or any organizations, now that I think about it.”

“It’s crooked. Move it to the right like an inch,” Eddie said. “And she doesn’t need godparents.”

“Course she does,” Richie said, maneuvering the frame slowly as if it were a tempermental bomb. “I mean, obviously Bev will be godmother and I guess that means Ben should be godfather but we can’t play favorites with the guys like that.”

“Did you have godparents? And it’s straight now, quit messing with it.”

“Yeah,” Richie said. “My great uncle Jim and my mom’s cousin Valerie. I’ve told you about her before. She took me to my first Pride when I was twenty because surprise, she was a lesbian and no one knew. Even though she and her roommate Laura shared a one bedroom apartment in New York.”

Eddie laughed and shook his head.

“I’d pay money to see you at Pride as some lanky, awkward kid,” he said.

“Oh man,” Richie said, grinning, “I was such a twink back then.”

“And what the hell are you now?”

Richie shrugged.

“I don’t know. Sloppy otter? Is that still a thing?”

“You’re asking the wrong guy,” Eddie said. He gazed around the room and his smile widened. “I gotta say, this is a pretty awesome kid’s room.”

“Hell yeah it is,” Richie replied, stepping beside his husband and putting his arm around his shoulders. “She’s gonna love it.”

They were both silent for several long moments, content to simply be in one another’s presence in their child’s room when Richie squeezed Eddie’s shoulder.

“I can’t believe it’s finally happening,” he admitted softly.

“I know,” Eddie agreed. “You’re gonna be a good dad.”

Richie colored briefly before gently hip-checking Eddie.

“So are you,” he said.

Eddie merely smiled.

Richie picked up the phone on the second ring.

“Bev!” he shouted.

“Richie!” she shouted back, laughing. “How are you?”

“Oh, you know, exhausted, covered in glitter, and haven’t showered in days,” he replied. Lydia lifted up her latest drawing and he gave her a thumbs up. She grinned and grabbed another piece of construction paper. “So just like college all over again.”

Bev laughed.

“I wish we went to college together,” she said wistfully.

“Oh, we’d be expelled instantly if some university was stupid enough to accept both of us,” he said. “So what’s going on?”

“Well, I finally had time to sit and watch all the videos you sent yesterday,” she answered. “And I have to say, Lydia is the sweetest, smartest, cutest kid I’ve ever seen.”

“Aw,” Richie said. He moved the phone away from his mouth and loudly whispered, “Lyds, my friend Bev thinks you’re cute and smart and sweet.”

“Who’s Bev?” Lydia asked.

“My friend, you’ll meet her soon.” Richie returned the phone to his ear. “When are you and Ben coming by?”

“Soon, I hope,” she said. “Ben’s finishing up a big project but this summer should be free and clear. What about the other Losers?”

“I don’t know, I want to do a BBQ with all of you so you can meet Lydia at the same time,” he said.

“I don’t like BBQ,” Lydia pointed out. “I like macaroni and cheese.”

“I’ll make macaroni and cheese, I promise,” Richie said.

“You cook now?” Bev asked.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he shot back. “I had been surviving on my own for twenty years, thank you.”

“I just can’t believe you’re a dad now,” Bev sighed wistfully.

“Well, you better believe it because I lost the receipt so this kid is nonrefundable,” he said, reaching out and tussling her hair, causing her to playfully bat away his hand.

Bev laughed.

“You sound happy, you know that?” she said.

Richie blinked. He hadn’t really thought about it but he supposed he was. A warm wave filled his chest.

“Yeah, I guess I am,” he said, clearing his throat.

“Am I making Trashmouth emotional?”

“No way,” he insisted. “I never get emotional and I definitely did not cry when we watched Moana the other night.”

“Yes, you did, Papa!”

“Shh!”

Bev laughed again and Richie grinned.

“Don’t worry, Ben cries at everything so your secret is safe with me,” she said. “I’m going to talk to him tonight about vacation days. You have to let us know when you’re free, though.”

“We’ll make it work, don’t worry.”

“Yeah, but I know Eddie’s always busy at work and you two are the ones with a kid.”

“We’ll make it work,” Richie repeated.

“I feel kinda bad though,” Bev admitted. “Won’t Lydia be overwhelmed by a welcome party filled with grown-ups?”

Richie blinked again. He hadn’t thought about that. He glanced at his daughter, happily tracing her hand on a piece of pink paper and swallowed.

“She has some friends from her school,” he said slowly. “I can invite them for her.”

“I just don’t want her bored or frightened,” Bev continued. “I remember the few times my dad took me to see family, I was the only kid. I hated it. Everyone talking over you and then yelling if you dared to look bored.”

Richie swallowed again and looked down at the table. He had always hated it when Bev spoke of her father but he was smart enough to know to shut up and listen.

“Anyway,” she said brightly, “I just want her to have fun.”

“She will. We’ll make it fun.”

“And Ben and I already got her a bunch of presents.”

“Oh no,” he groaned. “We specifically said no presents.” Lydia’s head immediately shot up, eyes wide and bright. “She’s spoiled enough as it is.” Lydia shook her head fervently.

“And send us her size, I saw some super cute clothes the other day,” Bev continued.

“Bev, no—”

“Yes, Richie,” she insisted. “I love you but I’m ignoring you.”

“Bev, I swear—”

“I gotta go,” she said quickly. “I love you, Trashmouth.”

Richie sighed but smiled warmly.

“I love you, too,” he replied gently.

“And I love Lydia even without meeting her yet.”

Richie’s heart did something intense, and it knocked the breath out of him.

“Richie?”

“Yeah, no, thanks, Bev,” he said quickly.

“Alright,” she said, laughter in her voice. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Bye.”

Richie placed his phone on the table and tried to gather his thoughts. It was harder than usual.

“Look at this one, Papa,” Lydia announced, lifting another colorful and glittery drawing. A large percentage of said glitter slipped off and fell onto the table. “Oops.”

“That’s a beaut,” he said and sniffed. “My friend Bev said she loves you.”

“That’s nice,” Lydia replied. “And she bought me presents?”

“Yeah, but you don’t need anything.”

“But maybe she got me something I don’t have,” Lydia pointed out.

“Airtight logic, as usual, kiddo,” Richie admitted.

Lydia smiled and clapped her hands together in an attempt to clear them of glitter, frowning when it did nothing.

“I think we gotta hose you down,” Richie observed. He glanced at the clock. “And soon, before your dad walks in and has a conniption.”

“What’s a conniption?”

“It’s what happens when your dad comes home and sees what a mess your papa has made,” Richie answered, standing. “Come on, let’s get you and all of this cleaned up.”

Richie finished loading the dishwasher, closed it, set it, and immediately sat down in the closest chair, suddenly exhausted. He barely flinched when he felt arms curl around his shoulders and a chin rest on the top of his head.

“You okay, buddy?” Bev asked gently.

“Yeah, just tired,” he replied. “Too much excitement for one day.”

Bev nodded and leaned down to place a kiss on his head.

“You sure you’re good?” she asked again.

“Yeah, but just...can you do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Can you tell me if my hair is thinning up there?”

Bev laughed and flicked his ear.

“No, it’s as thick and messy as ever,” she replied. “But you do still have a fivehead.”

“Shut up.”

Bev squeezed his shoulders and then sat in the empty chair closest to him. A golden glow from the setting sun streamed through the open windows, and they could hear the rest of the party—Losers catching up and laughing and children shrieking with delight at whatever delighted five-year-olds—but it was mercifully quiet in the kitchen.

“I’m glad you invited her friends,” Bev said. “She needed some people her age to counterbalance all of us boring grown-ups.”

Richie nodded.

“Yeah, but she had fun with you and Ben earlier,” he said. “I guess she’s used to being the only kid around with just me and Eddie.”

“Do you think you guys will adopt again?”

Richie swallowed and shrugged.

“I don’t know, I mean, we’re still getting the hang of having just one kid,” he sighed. “But I wouldn’t want her to be an only child. They’re kinda weird, no offense.”

Bev laughed.

“They’re also lonely,” she pointed out, “so I wouldn’t recommend it for her, either.”

Richie felt compelled to hug her but settled for taking one of her hands in both of his, resting them on the table. They were both silent for a long moment, and he tried to ignore the fact that Bev was gazing at him expectantly before he cleared his throat.

“Bev, I…I’m scared.”

She quirked her head to the side and gazed at Richie with mild confusion on her face.

“Scared of what, Rich?”

“Fucking everything,” he admitted, not meeting her eyes. “What if I’m in over my head?”

Bev squeezed his hands.

“I’m not a parent,” she offered gently, “but I think that’s a common side effect.”

Richie sighed and shook his head.

“And you’re not doing this alone,” Bev continued, reaching out with her free hand to brush a strand of hair behind his ear. “You’ve got Eddie. The two of you are doing a great job. You can tell just by looking at Lydia.”

Richie’s chest tightened.

“Lydia’s amazing,” he admitted. “But she was amazing when we adopted her.”

“Rich—”

“And Eddie...” he swallowed and looked up at Bev, “I’m scared I forced him into something he didn’t want.”

Bev appeared genuinely shocked.

“Richie, that’s impossible,” she insisted.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think for even one second Eddie would move across the country and endure years of all that bureaucratic bullshit and constant, needling, in-depth assessments from social workers for something he didn’t want?”

Richie swallowed and looked down again.

“He loves you,” Bev said gently, leaning in closer to her friend, “but he doesn’t love you that much.”

That startled a laugh out of Richie. He wiped at his nose and sniffed. Bev used her free hand to wipe at his face.

“You’re just tired,” she observed. “Tired and overwhelmed at having all of us here and showing off Lydia.”

“Hey, do you guys have any...what’s going on?”

They both looked up. Ben was standing in the doorway looking not unlike a deer caught in the headlights.

“Nothing, nothing,” Bev said quickly.

“Yeah, nothing, just your girlfriend bullying me about my forehead, that’s all,” Richie replied. Ben smiled but he still looked unconvinced. Richie continued, “You need something, dude?”

“Oh, yeah, just wanted to grab a drink,” Ben said.

Richie motioned towards the fridge and Ben opened it, reached in, and pulled out a juicebox. He glanced down at it in his hand and then smirked at Richie, his eyebrows raised.

“Hey, don’t knock it, mix that with a little vodka, fucking delicious,” Richie insisted. “That’s how I get through Lydia’s gymnastics classes.”

Bev smirked and slapped him lightly on the knee, earning a yelp from Richie. Ben shook his head, still smiling, closed the fridge door, and immediately pushed the straw through the top of the juicebox and sipped.

“Hmm,” he said after a few moments’ consideration, “not bad, actually.”

“See?” Richie replied. “There are some benefits to having a kid.” Ben sat at the table beside him and affectionately patted him on the shoulder. Richie glanced at him and bit the bullet. “So, not to sound totally straight, but are you guys thinking about having kids?”

Ben’s eyes widened and his lips tightened around the straw. Bev rolled her eyes.

“We don’t know, Rich,” she said gently. “Though we are running out of time.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m well over forty.”

“We’re all well over forty.”

Bev gave him a pointed look and realization washed over Richie’s face.

“Oh, yeah,” Richie muttered. “Who gives a shit? I read about a woman in India who had a baby at seventy.”

“I don’t plan on going for that,” Bev laughed.

“Besides, you and Eddie have inspired us to at least look into adoption,” Ben replied.

“Oh yeah?” Richie said. “Nice. Well, if you need advice, talk to Eddie. I’m a mess.”

“Richie…”

“I’m serious,” he insisted. “I know we only got approval because of him.”

“Come on, that’s not—”

“It is true. I mean, who would you let raise a kid? A shitty and foul-mouthed comic with crazy hours and a drinking problem he only just got under control or the responsible, completely organized nerd in polo shirts?”

Ben and Bev were both silent and Richie realized he had, once again, gone too far. He racked his mind to rectify the situation—a joke, an impression, a scream, anything—when he was saved by the backdoor opening and Eddie appearing in the doorway.

“Hey, Lydia’s friends are getting picked up,” he said. “You wanna come say goodbye with me?”

Richie stood.

“Sorry, folks, parenting duty calls,” he said casually and offered a lop-sided grin before leaving Ben and Bev in the kitchen.

He’s late.

What time is it by you?

7:32.

Well, didn’t he say he had a dinner meeting?

Yeah, at 5. wtf

I’m sure he’s just sitting in traffic. He’ll be home soon. Don’t worry.

I’m not worried. I’m fucking pissed.

He can’t help it if work is crazy, sweetheart.

He could’ve called out. I’m by myself over here, neck deep in snotty tissues and crying kids.

Richie glanced up from his phone at the sound of keys in the front door. Fucking finally, he thought. The door opened and closed and it seemed to Richie that Eddie purposely took a long time to get from the foyer to the living room, where he was sitting on the couch with Lydia’s feet in his lap and their youngest curled up against his side, drooling onto his shirt. They were still passed out, mercifully.

Eddie walked into the living room and quietly stepped up to the couch.

“Hey,” he whispered. “How are the girls?”

“Lydia’s fever broke,” Richie sighed, “but I think it’s going into her chest. She keeps coughing. And Tess is just congested and keeps puking up the medicine so that’s been fun.”

“She hasn’t kept any of the medicine down?”

Richie shook his head and shoved his fingers beneath his glasses, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“Fuck, we gotta get her to take it,” Eddie said.

“No shit,” Richie snapped. He tensed when Lydia stretched in her sleep but she remained asleep.

“I read about another brand online today,” Eddie said, leaning down to run his fingers through Tess’s dark hair. “Supposedly it doesn’t have any of that artificial flavoring shit. That’s probably what’s making her sick.”

Richie shrugged, too exhausted to even comment. Eddie glanced at him, raising an eyebrow before continuing, “I’ll pick some up on the way home tomorrow.”

Richie’s head shot up and he stared at Eddie, stunned.

“You’re going into work tomorrow?” he asked dumbly.

“I gotta, but just for half a day. I’ll be home early.”

“Like you were today?”

Eddie straightened and shook his head.

“I’m too tired for this right now,” he sighed.

Richie’s eyes widened. For a moment, he couldn’t see straight.

“You’re too tired?” he repeated, his voice strained.

Lydia moved again, sighing in her sleep before being rattled awake by a violent cough. Richie and Eddie both reached for the glass of water on the coffee table, but Lydia got to it first before immediately gulping down half of it.

“Easy, kiddo,” Eddie murmured, taking the glass from her when was done. “How are you feeling?”

Lydia answered by coughing again, covering her mouth with her arm like her dad had showed her. Tears sprang to her eyes and her nose began running. Richie handed her the tissue box and ran his fingers through her unruly curls.

“My throat won’t stop tickling,” she finally gasped out.

“Your sinuses are draining, that’s probably it,” Eddie said before reaching towards his briefcase he had left on the floor. He opened it and brought out a bag of cough drops. “I made sure to get the lemon ones.” He unwrapped and handed her one, and she immediately popped it in her mouth before settling back down on the couch.

Richie glanced over at Tess. She hadn’t even stirred from the commotion. He was also quite sure some of the drool on his shirt was snot, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Look, you’re home now, I’m gonna go take a shower, okay?” he said, gently moving Lydia’s feet off his lap and placing a pillow beside Tess. Without waiting for an answer, he hurried to the bedroom, leaving Eddie staring after his retreating back.

Richie, admittedly, took a particularly long shower but he felt he deserved it. A full day and a half of battling germs, miserable kids, and the occasional pukefest could wear a man out. Eddie’s extra-early alarm this morning certainly didn’t help, nor did his apparent reluctance to pick up the phone. Richie allowed himself one bang against the shower wall with his fist before concentrating on his breathing and allowing the warm water to undo the tension in his body. Fuck, he was tired.

Turning off the shower, he gingerly stepped out and wrapped a towel around his waist before heading into the bedroom, where Eddie was waiting for him.

“You talk to Bev about what a shitty husband I am?” he said in an oddly calm voice.

Richie blinked. Then he noticed his cell phone in Eddie’s hand. Shit. Deflect, Tozier.

“You went through my phone?” he shot back. “And you left the girls alone?”

“Tess is still asleep and Lydia is watching TV,” Eddie answered and took a step towards Richie. “And your phone went off with a text from Bev that had my name in it. Of course I fucking looked, you’d do the same.”

Richie frowned. Eddie, was usual, was right.

“Bev and I talk all the time,” he said, brushing past him to their bureau and began searching for pajamas. “You know that.”

“Yeah, but—”

“And you talk to her and the guys,” Richie continued. “What’s the fucking difference?”

“I don’t bitch and moan about you to them.”

“Bullshit.”

“I don’t share private things with them.”

Richie whirled around, which was a bit difficult considering he was still stepping into his pajama pants. “Private things?” he repeated. “You being late on a day where I really fucking needed you isn’t exactly intimate information. What’s the big deal?”

Eddie swallowed and shook his head.

“Well, I don’t like it,” he admitted.

Richie huffed a laugh.

“I don’t like that you care more about work than your family but we all got our crosses to bear, right?” he snapped. “So forgive me for letting off a little steam to someone who actually cares.”

Eddie stared at him, his eyes wide and impossibly bright. Richie looked away, grabbed the first t-shirt he could find in the bureau and put it on.

“I’m gonna go sit with the kids,” he muttered. “Text Bev back for me and tell her everything’s fucking fine.”

He felt Eddie’s eyes on him as he stalked out of the bedroom and tried his best to school his face when he approached the couch but by the sidelong glance his daughter gave him, he knew he had done a poor job of it.

#reddie #it chapter 2 #reddie fanfic #richie tozier #Eddie Kaspbrak #beverly marsh

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reddie-to-write · 6 years

Text

Of Worries And Windows

“Cut the crap, Richie,” Eddie whispers curtly, and Richie shuts up, his eyes widening behind the thick lenses of his glasses. "Why are you climbing through my window?"

Richie is silent for a second. He looks down at the floor, using his finger to jam his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and Eddie can’t really tell but thinks his cheeks might be a little bit red. “I, uh…” He starts, and Eddie leans forward in spite of himself. The room is dark and feels full, somehow, the air Richie exhales thick with tension or a secret.

Or: Richie keeps climbing through Eddie's window at night, and Eddie can't stop himself from asking why.

Words: 4,302

Tags: Fluff, Cuddling, Unintentional Bed-Sharing, First Kiss

Eddie’s window is open this particular night.

He can smell the fresh air, puffing in little breezes as rhythmic as the breaths of a sleeping animal, and it’s fitting because the night is dozy – warm, even for the tail end of summer, and calm with the orchestral cheeping of crickets and the smell of wet grass. He sighs, the sheets cool and comforting against his skin. The familiar dread rises in the back of his throat.

It’s late, he knows, the clock on his bedside table glowing like a pair of eyes in the dark, but he doesn’t look at the time – he squeezes his own eyes shut and tries to ignore the flutter in his stomach, the fear pressing against the roof of his mouth.

Plink.

He stiffens, feeling something like an icy finger trail up his spine. He knows he’s been jumpy lately, startling at small noises and flinching away from sudden contact, and that far less observant people than his mother have noticed the dark bags under his eyes. There’s something in his chest that rises up at night to strangle him, the old asthmatic wheeze coming back to play but worse, oh god so much worse when he remembers the dank drip of the sewers in the dark –

It’s dead you killed It for fuck’s sake there’s nothing there it’s probably a mouse –

The sound comes again: a light, sharp clack, like something hitting glass, and then the clatter on the drainpipe, the thin roll down the sloped roof.

Eddie lies rigid as a poker in his bed – he squeezes his eyes shut tighter, but still sees a rotting, noseless face, yellow eyes blazing with the fire of the dead.

Close the window, just get up and close it, don’t be a fucking pussy if you can just get the window closed you’ll be safe –

Plink.

Eddie lurches up out of bed and is across the room before he can talk himself out of it, barging through the black shadows that leer up at him from the floor, and as he grabs the wooden window frame, feeling sweat slide greasily down the small of his back, he sees a shadow detach and move below him in the grass –

“Eds?”

His mouth drops open, and he feels his knees go soggy with relief that quickly turns to a slap of annoyance.

“Richie?” He hisses as a grin flashes up at him from the dark, “What the fuck? It’s, like, one in the morning –“

“I had to come and see you, Eds,” Richie tries to whisper, and Eddie winces – Richie Tozier’s definition of ‘whisper’ is close to a normal person’s speaking volume. Eddie shushes him frantically as he drops his handful of pebbles and begins to shimmy up the drainpipe, nearly putting his foot through the living room window.

“What? Wh – what planet are you living on where people just say, ‘oh, you know, everyone’s asleep, what a great idea it would be to visit my friend! Let’s throw enough shit at his window to give him a fucking heart attack’ –“

“You left your comic book at my house,” Richie says, crouching right outside the open window so his big brown eyes are level with Eddie’s, his expression soft as melted chocolate and twice as sticky. Eddie, unimpressed, wrenches the window open further, leaning both his elbows on the sill. Richie brandishes the comic book, Wonder Woman fluttering up at them from between newly dog-eared pages, and Eddie takes it.

“So, what? I’m just supposed to let you in now?” He whispers fiercely, trying to ignore the puppy eyes Richie is vomiting up at him in the dark.

“Unless you want me to be downtown at one in the AM, when any psycho could grab me, murder me, and chop me up into little pieces,” Richie says cheerfully, and without an answer begins to shove his head and shoulders through, pushing Eddie out of the way.

Eddie feels laughter rise against his will as Richie bends himself into a boy-pretzel, trying to maneuver through the window with his leg under his left shoulder.

“This is the shittiest break-in I’ve ever seen,” He whispers as Richie gets stuck, winces, squirms through, trips, and curses in quick succession, flailing his ridiculous lanky arms on his way down and ending in a pile on the floor.

“Only the shittiest for you, Eddie-my-love,” Richie says, flopping into a short bow, and Eddie crosses his arms, tossing the comic book onto his desk. Richie notices, and places a hand over his heart in mock horror. “Such little care taken when I risked my life for you! Such –“

“Cut the crap, Richie,” Eddie whispers curtly, and Richie shuts up, his eyes widening behind the thick lenses of his glasses. “Wonder Woman really couldn’t wait until tomorrow? Why the fuck are you climbing through my window?”

“I, uh…” He starts, and Eddie leans forward in spite of himself. The room is dark and feels full, somehow, the air Richie exhales thick with tension or a secret. Then he blurts, “I just really needed a little midnight coitus with your mom,” and the moment breaks like some rare and precious glass drop-kicked off a cliff.

“That’s it, you’ve hit the limit, get the fuck out,” Eddie tries to whisper, he really does, but his voice has risen, though in anger or reluctant laughter he can’t tell. Richie dodges his shove, then rolls backwards over one shoulder and flops his full length on the floor. His heels thunk when he throws them down. Eddie grabs him by the ankle and starts trying to pull him towards the window.

“Pip-pip, cheerio, please, gov, not the window!” Richie is saying in one of his terrible British voices, and Eddie can feel himself smiling, damn it, a little laughter leaking out the corner of his mouth.

And then there’s a voice from downstairs.

“Eddie-bear?”

They both freeze like frightened animals. Eddie meets Richie’s eyes for a split second, sees malevolent, unbridled delight and knows he’s logging away this new nickname for future torture. He takes a moment to curse Richie Tozier even as he hears the telltale squall of his mother mounting the sagging staircase.

“Eddie, are you awake?”

Richie gestures at the window, and Eddie shakes his head, frantic. Hide, he mouths, and Richie mouths back where as he looks helplessly around the spotless room. Eddie hears the slow advancing creaks, his mother’s labored breathing as she comes up the twelve stairs, and with his heart in his throat he shoves Richie backwards onto his bed.

“Stay still,” Eddie hisses, and Richie nods, swallowing hard at the sound of Sonia Kaspbrak’s heavy step immediately down the hall.

He pushes Richie in towards the wall, whipping the covers over him and trying to make it look believably messy, and the blankets have barely settled over them both before the door opens.

“Eddie, are you having nightmares?” She whispers, and in the very pregnant silence that follows Eddie feels Richie wriggle slightly, a bony knee knocking the back of his thigh. He grits his teeth, trying to remind himself that strangling Richie would probably give him away, and then he feels the blood drain out of his face as Sonia steps into his room.

Oh fuck, oh please god no, he thinks incoherently, because not only is she going to murder him in about three seconds when she finds out her son has been sneaking boys into his bed – but she is going to kiss him in front of Richie.

Richie has grown very still, and Eddie tries desperately not to squeeze his eyes shut, to make his breathing slow and smooth as Sonia leans over and pecks his cheek, her lips smacking wetly on his face.

She stands there for a few torturous eons, eyes on the bed, and Eddie is stock-still, brittle as an icicle, nails digging into the sweat-slicked palm of his hand and Richie a warm, miraculously quiet lump behind him.

Finally, she turns and goes, leaving his door open a generous crack, and Eddie has to stop Richie from springing up as she descends down the stairs. The garage light flicks on, flooding the driveway with brightness, and Eddie groans in consternation when he doesn’t hear her bedroom door close –

“Well, Eds, as much as I’d love to sneak down and join your mom, I guess I’ll be on my way,” Richie whisper-shouts, and Eddie is shaking his head, grabbing him by the arm as he tries to sneak out from under the covers.

“You can’t. She has the light on, she’ll be watching for burglars for at least another hour – she does this whenever she hears noise upstairs, so good fucking going –“

Richie just smiles lazily, not protesting in the slightest, and Eddie trails off, blinking with the realization that maybe this was what he wanted all along.

“Sure,” He yawns, stretching out his obnoxiously long self, “any excuse to keep me in your bed, Eddie Spaghetti. Now if you’ll pardon me, I need my beauty sleep.”

“Here,” Eddie mutters, shoving a pillow between them, “take your fucking shoes off in my bed, and don’t you dare touch me with your feet.”

“Bossy in the bedroom,” Richie says, grinning, “that’s kinda sexy.” He kicks his sneakers off the foot of the bed and away, twisting up the blankets and probably grinding a fuck-ton of dirt into the clean sheets.

Eddie bites his tongue, turns his back, and does his best to fall asleep with someone literally breathing down his neck.

“Hey Eds?” He hears a few minutes later, a sigh, low and gentle with almost-sleep, and he drowsily resents the fact that he can’t ever ignore Richie Tozier.

“What, Richie?”

The air has regained its soft quality – the charcoal darkness is anonymous and safe, and there’s something hesitant in Richie’s voice. His heart speeds up in anticipation. He holds his breath as he waits for Richie to respond, feeling that they are trembling on the verge of something new.

“How many live lizards d’you think I could eat before I threw up?” Richie asks, and Eddie closes his eyes, warring between the fresh impulse to choke him and a strange disappointment deflating in his chest.

“Go the fuck to sleep,” He grumbles, and Richie laughs quietly to himself for a second before lapsing back into merciful silence.

A few hours later, Eddie wakes up to find the pillow gone and a whole bunch of extremities wrapped around him – it feels like he’s been engulfed by a particularly bony octopus.

He lies very still, his sleep-muddled brain trying to figure out where all the limbs came from – why there’s a long leg thrown over his hip, and why there are two more arms, one curled under his neck and one flopped loosely around his waist – and then it hits him and he throws his elbow backwards into Richie’s stomach and Richie snorts violently, his knife-sharp ankle kicking into Eddie’s leg. Eddie bites his lip hard to keep from shrieking and does his best to roll over. Richie mumbles muzzily, his arms tightening.

“Whazzit?” He slurs, “Eds?” and Eddie swallows because Richie’s voice is never this quiet, the room is chilly because the fucking window is still open and Richie is warm, damn it – even though he’s breathing damply on the back of Eddie’s head, even though his stupid bones are poking everywhere, even though he’s been snoring in choked little sputters – Eddie doesn’t really want him to back off.

“Nothing,” Eddie whispers, “Go back to sleep.”

Richie hums, just a contented little wordless sound from the back of his throat, and Eddie takes a shaky breath. Richie readjusts so that Eddie’s head rests more comfortably on his arm, and then tugs him closer, so that his entire back is pressed against Richie’s front. Eddie thinks about protesting, but it’s actually nice – like cuddling up to a five-foot-seven-inch hot water bottle.

Eddie is asleep before he realizes his eyes are closed.

He wakes up to the open window streaming early-morning sun, one side of the bed cold and rumpled, and the realization that, for the first time in five weeks, he has slept through the night.

The next night: he’s sitting up in bed, his gooseneck lamp casting a small circle of light on Wonder Woman punching out of dog-eared pages, when Richie pokes his head up past the sill.

“Hey, Eds,” Richie says, like it’s normal to be crouching on your friend’s roof at midnight waiting to crawl through their window, and as Eddie crosses the room to wrench the frame up further he thinks that maybe, in this case, it is.

The next night: he’s at his desk, trying to get at least a little progress in on their summer homework, but for some reason he can’t focus until he hears the scuffle of dirty sneakers on the drainpipe, the grit of an eager footstep on the roof.

The next night: Eddie comes from brushing his teeth and Richie is in his bed already. He stands quietly in the doorway for a second because Richie’s mouth is shut for once, his hair curling like a big un-brushed dishmop all over the pillow, and he has a look Eddie had forgotten because he hasn’t seen it since they were six or seven – soft, smiling without hiding behind a joke.

Then he notices Eddie back. He raises his arms, wiggles his eyebrows in what he probably thinks is a seductive way, and his big fucking mouth opens again to decimate the moment.

“Come to beddie, Eddie Spaghetti,” He croons, and Eddie is done staring – he just glares and remembers why letting Richie in was a bad idea in the first place.

The next night: Eddie leaves the window as far open as it can go, then gets in bed and turns out the lights because, for the first time in six weeks, he feels drowsy instead of afraid. And when he hears scuffles and footsteps, a soft curse from someone making their way with questionable stealth to the bed, Eddie doesn’t feel suffocated by his own lungs – he just lifts the edge of the blankets and lets Richie slip in beside him.

It becomes their routine, and eventually Eddie stops being bothered by the fact that they don’t talk about it. It’s just them, EddieandRichie, and if their normal daytime friendship of jostling and playing now includes sleeping in the same place, warm and pliant and entangled – well, Eddie’s just fine with that, as long as he constantly reminds himself not to think about it too hard.

It’s only after three weeks of this that everything comes rushing back, all of Eddie’s misgivings and half-acknowledged doubts and the familiar, scorching-cold panic, because Richie isn’t normal when he comes through the window.

“Hi!” Eddie whispers when he hears Richie tumble through, “Y’know, I was downtown today – close the window, dipshit, it’s freezing – and I saw Bill getting candy at the pharmacy and he said we should have a sleepover this weekend – Richie?”

Eddie looks around because Richie hasn’t interrupted him with a single word. He is standing in the middle of the room in his flannel pajama pants and a holey old T-shirt that looks like it hasn’t been washed all month, and he is staring with unfocused eyes, his gaze on a spot slightly above Eddie’s right shoulder. There’s a leaf stuck in his hair.

Eddie feels his eyebrows wrinkle.

“Hey, Richie? Earth to Trashmouth?” He tries, and Richie blinks and twitches his way back into focus, a brittle and completely unconvincing smile on his face. He speaks a bit too loudly.

“Sorry, Eds what was th –“

Eddie shushes him harshly, eyes wide, and instead of continuing at greater volume he falls silent, the false smile dropping from his face like melty snow sliding off the hood of a car.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks, and Richie nods, slowly. His half-closed eyes look thick as syrup.

“Fine, Eds,” He mumbles, again too loud, “Ready for a long night’s sleep is all.”

Eddie considers pressing the issue, asking what’s wrong, but his brain automatically snarks that Richie will just make some joke about his dick or his mom. Then he looks more closely at Richie, whose shoulders are slumping so vacantly, and he suddenly thinks but what if he doesn’t?

He is more scared by the second option, so he just propels Richie to the edge of the bed.

They lie down together, and Richie is like a breathing corpse – he flops on his side, boneless but scarily stiff, his arms straight down past his ribs. Eddie waits for him to scoot closer, to curl around his back like a limpet like he usually does the second he thinks Eddie is sleeping, but after two uncomfortable minutes he hasn’t moved an inch. Eddie opens his mouth, then snaps it shut when his brain thankfully catches up – what in the fuck was he about to ask? Hey, Richie, what’s wrong – get sick of being the big spoon?

Slowly, his cheeks burning with what feels like a fever, Eddie turns to face him. He puts one arm carefully over Richie’s waist, the other crunched awkwardly between their chests. Richie is cold to the touch. He relaxes slightly at last, letting out an exhale that sounds painful – a drowning boy finally giving up his air.

Eddie ignores the voices in his head that are shrilling justfriends don’t do this and what’s wrong with him and why do you think you can fix it, and they fall asleep without saying anything, uneasy in the dark.

Eddie wakes up to a bright crack of pain across his cheek, and it takes him a disoriented second to recognize Richie’s gross shirt in front of his eyes, and the stab of the bony arm that just elbowed him in the face. He scowls, hissing out a rebuke, but then his fury evaporates when he hears a muffled intake of breath – it’s wet, and sounds remarkably like a sob.

“Richie?” Eddie whispers, and feels him stiffen up, trying to flinch away but only succeeding in whacking his elbow against the wall. There’s a quiet swear, a sniff, and he reaches out as best he can, pulling one of Richie’s hands away from his face.

“What is it?” Eddie breathes, and in the few seconds it takes Richie to gather a reply Eddie again expects an automatic quip – he’s gonna spit up some joke because that’s what he does, ha-ha, yuck it up, c’mon don’t be a pussybabybitch, we’re boys eddie and boys don’t cry, eddieandrichie don’t do this, justfriends don’t do feelings –

“It’s the fuckin’ clown, Eds,” Richie chokes out, and a whole colony of shivering gooseflesh rashes out on Eddie’s arms and neck and back. For a second he stutters with his own fear, stutters like Bill, red-faced and trying so hard to get the comfort out.

“W-w-we killed It, Richie, It’s fucking – It’s dead, dead gone, we - we –“

“I know,” Richie interrupts, and he sounds furious, now, hissing out in a real whisper at last, “I know we fucking killed It, and I know I shouldn’t be afraid – there’s no reason to be such a goddamn pussy now that it’s gone – but I keep having these, these fucking dreams, and –“

His voice breaks and peters out, and Eddie can sort-of see him in the dark, his eyes without his glasses still huge, shiny with tears.

“Me too,” Eddie whispers, and Richie’s head shoots up, “I – I didn’t sleep until you started sleeping with m – until we started sleeping toge – fuck, you know what I mean, Richie. I – “ He pauses, a thought striking him like a battering ram. “Wait – is that why you started coming? To the window, I mean?”

Richie drops his eyes, then nods twice. His voice is steadier, now, but still so weirdly quiet that it makes Eddie apprehensive.

“I – yeah. I guess I – it’s weird, Eds, I kept having these dreams and I would wake up in the middle of the night, and it was – it was like I was back there, even when I woke up. In the Neibolt house, or the sewers. And even when the dream was done, it felt like I was still in the dream – like, I wouldn’t be able to feel my hands attached to me, or it felt like my fucking head was floating away – or - or –“ He breaks off, and Eddie can tell he’s edging back to tears. “Then I had another one tonight before I came here, and I – I just – needed some way to – to feel real again after.” There is a self-conscious pause.

Eddie swallows the relief, the gratitude welling up in his throat. He knows what Richie is trying to tell him about, even though he knows he could never find the right words either – the way his room looked skewed and flimsy after every nightmare, all his belongings cheap props in some fucked-up parody play, the shadows threatening to cut the fragile string that tethered his drifting mind to his body.

His brain is going a million miles an hour, but Eddie stays very still. He can feel Richie quaking against him, and he takes a deep, shaky breath, admonishing himself for being such a fucking coward.

Richie needs you – don’t be a pussy, just do it, you already want to –

He reaches out, slowly, and touches Richie’s side, trailing up his ribs. Don’t think about it too much. Richie looks up so fast his neck cricks, but when Eddie moves his fingers away he shakes his head silently, gently, and catches them in his own.

“Does this feel real?” Eddie whispers, his heart thundering under his ribs, and he hears Richie’s breath hitch as he nods – for once, he seems to be at a loss for words.

Eddie detangles their fingers and touches Richie’s shoulder, brushing up his neck. His skin is soft, surprisingly, and Eddie realizes he’s enjoying it – his mind is shrieking justfriends justfriends justfriends and he shoves it away – and Richie swallows hard.

“Does this feel real?” Eddie repeats, and his hand is moving up to Richie’s face, the freckles smooth and perfect on his cheek.

“Y’know what would feel realer, Eds?” Richie breathes, and his eyes flicker down to Eddie’s mouth. He licks his lips and Eddie is on the throes of an asthma attack right then and there. They are almost nose to nose. Eddie doesn’t move his hand away because his brain has gone from justfriends to richierichierichie to a roaring blank silence, and to his own surprise, Eddie is the one who leans in.

It is short and soft in the dark, melting with the same brevity and sweetness as a chocolate bar. Eddie had thought about kissing girls before, had vaguely wondered when that particular rite-of-passage would come, but he had never felt anything attached to these faceless, imaginary girls, and so he didn’t expect his first kiss to feel like much at all.

But Richie kisses like he talks: too fast, too random, a little too much spit, and Eddie knows why people say fireworks now, because he has a whole box of cherry bombs rocketing around in his stomach. He thinks he might be dying, because he’s never felt this much in this many parts of him at once.

They break apart, and almost immediately Richie goes in again, but he misses by a long shot and ends up slobbering overenthusiastically on the corner of Eddie’s nose. Eddie recoils, pretending to gag, and Richie shrinks away with unusual seriousness – his face that Eddie can half-see in the dark looks crestfallen, even as he tries pathetically hard to keep his voice light.

“Sorry, Eds,” He says, “Thought you were, you know, into it, but if not –“

“No – no, Richie, I, uh –“ Eddie stumbles over his words, embarrassed, “Just, um, don’t put your – your tongue up my fucking nose. The – the rest was – well. Good,” He chokes out, and he knows he’s tomato-red because of how volcanically hot his face is. He can practically see Richie light up like a Christmas tree; his face is silly with happiness.

“Good,” Richie echoes, then says it again, stronger, “Good. So we can, uh…do it again sometime?” And this time Eddie’s absolutely dying, imploding in on himself, because jesus fucking christ.

“Yeah,” He chokes, and thankfully Richie doesn’t say anything else – he just wiggles a little and grabs Eddie in a hug, drawing him close, his smiling face tucked against the top of Eddie’s head.

“So, um, what if I told you I didn’t sleep well without you anymore?” Richie whispers, and Eddie thought his heart had recovered, but it quivers and bursts in his chest because Richie’s voice is hesitant, a little quiet, and that. Well. That was unexpectedly sweet.

“Well,” Eddie whispers back against Richie’s collarbone, curling his fingers into the front of his shirt, “I’d call you out on your bullshit, since I haven’t had a night away from you in three weeks.”

Richie laughs a little, and Eddie can almost feel the joy radiating off him like sunbeams.

“Should we test it? Go a night without me serenading my beautiful Eds from beneath his window?” He asks, and Eddie shakes his head. He stops smiling for a second to press a tiny kiss to the base of Richie’s throat.

“Fuck no,” He replies, and Richie laughs again, hugging him tight, tight, tight.

Eddie’s window stays open following that night.

#my writing #text post #reddie #warning it's cute !!

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l0vemark · 6 years

Text

The One That I Want: Richie Tozier x Reader

abstract: in which Richie and (Y/N) have their usual, weekly movie marathons, only this time something is a little different.

author’s note: me??? posting a fic?? on a tuesday???? just a little richie fluff :)

@starryoleff requested: "we'd make such a cute couple." with my boi richie pls thanks ily

prompts | masterlist

send a request here.

don’t know what to request for? i got you, love: here.

It was a typical Friday night, you and Richie were having your weekly movie marathon. Reflecting back on the mess Richie made at your place last week when he was trying to mimic Meg’s performance of “I Won’t Say I’m in Love” from Hercules, you declared that it’s probably the best idea to spend this week’s marathon at Richie’s apartment. Tonight’s showing: Grease.

“You’re the one that I want! Oo-oo-ooh, honey!” you and Richie sang along to the movie playing on the screen. You threw your head back laughing, failing to see the dark-haired boy sitting next to you, admiring how the shape of your eyes grew smaller as the size of your smile grew bigger.

“You know,” Richie began to speak, causing you to turn your head towards him, “We’d make a cute couple.”

You chuckled at Richie’s words, resting your head on the crook of his neck, trying to get more comfortable, “Yeah, totally.”

Richie casually slung his arm around you as if it was part of a routine that you two have practiced a thousand times, “Yeah, we can be like Danny and Sandy.”

“We are so like Danny and Sandy!” you exclaimed, “You always try to act cool like Danny, but you’re really just a huge dork.”

“Hey! I’m cool!” Richie defended, “And you’re just as sweet and kind and cute as Sandy.”

“Was that supposed to be an insult, Rich?” you looked up to face him, raising your eyebrows while grinning as if to mock him playfully.

“Nope, I just said that because I knew it would make you smile and I wanted to see that beautiful smile of yours,” Richie smirked as he grabbed a piece of your hair, twirling the soft strands with his finger.

You felt your cheeks heat up as a blush slowly crept up your face at how blunt Richie was being, “And now you’re blushing!”

“Stop it!” you objected, immediately burying your face into his chest.

“See, I told you we’d make a cute couple,” Richie repeated once again in a suggestive tone.

“Are you trying to hint something here, Tozier?”

“I’m just saying babe, I can take you out on dates to your favorite places, bring you your favorite kind of flowers, take special care of you when you’re sick, serenade you with my oh-so-amazing voice, and all those cute stuff that couples do.”

“But Rich, we already do all of those things.”

“Exactly!” Richie denoted, “So why not just make it official?”

Comfortable silence slowly filled the room. The only sound that can be heard is Richie’s steady breathing matching yours and the muffled noise from the television which is now projecting the near-end of the movie as the characters danced to the song “We Go Together”.

“Are you serious?” you asked, questioning if this is just another one of Richie’s jokes, your arm wrapping around your best friend’s waist, your eyes closing and imagining how it would be like if you and Richie were actually in a serious relationship.

“I mean, think about it (Y/N/N),” Richie started to explain, his finger tracing a trail up your arm, resting his hand on your shoulder, circling your skin with his thumb, “None of our other relationships have worked. I don’t know about you but I think it’s because none of them compare to what we have. Not even close.”

“Maybe we just suck at relationships,” you giggled into his shirt, his fingers now stroking your hair, tickling your back, slightly distracting you from how engrossed Richie was in his thoughts.

“Am I crazy for thinking this way?” Richie asked, causing you to pull away from his chest, not noticing how his heart rate speeded up as you changed your position.

Your head looked up towards his direction, your eyes trying to meet his gaze, “No, you’re not crazy. Well actually, you are. But I’m just as crazy as you are. And you know that. But lately, I’ve been feeling this weird knot in my stomach whenever I’m with you, but the stranger thing is that, I kind of like it.”

“I’ve been feeling that too. And recently I’ve been doing things simply just to witness you smile or hear you laugh. I love seeing your face light up especially when I know I’m the reason for that.”

“And how sometimes it suddenly becomes so hard to breathe when you mention my name, yet somehow I still feel comfortable because I know it’s you.”

“And how easy it was to admit all of this shit without worrying about what the other person might say, because it’s you and me--”

“You and I.”

“Shut up, don’t ruin the moment (Y/N/N). Point is, we work so well together. And maybe there’s a reason for that, so why not give it a try?”

“Are you sure about this?” you asked, searching for reassurance in Richie’s eyes. And as always, he didn’t fail to provide you exactly what just you needed to hear.

“You’re the one that I want.”

tags: @edgytozier @eggo-child @wheelerswaffles @multi-parker @strangertozier @finnie-wolfhard @mikoalabear @starryoleff @babyboytozier@a-l-o-s-e-r-r @trashmouthlosers @reddiesetrichie @okaylosvers @thelosers-lovers-club @happyhanlon @depressed-trashcann @beepbeeprichtozier

send me an ask if you want to be added to the list.

#jay writes #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier imagines #richie tozier headcanons #it imagines #finn wolfhard x reader #oof squad

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iwakurodai · 6 years

Text

I’ll Help You || Richie Tozier

requested? Yes by my ex-wife @yourfinnwolfhard

richie x reader but like he ends up staying in Derry and reader comes home and they end up rekindling their love or some shit Fluff. she’s really successful and he isn’t.

fluffy

Age range 23-25

Warnings? Cursing, distant, rude, parents

tag list for now: @multi-parker @strang-ersclub

(Y/n) never really planned on coming back to Derry, Maine but with her little sister’s birthday coming up she had to visit. She’s coming back to Derry for the first time in years. (Y/n) remembers leaving Derry in tears when she was 18, leaving her best friends for a job she thought she would never get. Coming back brought a lot of memories she thought she’d never get back.

(Y/n) hops out of the car and bounces to the front door. Knocking loudly, smiling big, waiting for her little sister to open the door. A snap of locks rattle the door and it creaks open as the freshly sixteen year old peaks behind the wood. A wide grin stretches across the girls face and she throws the door open before wrapping (y/n) in a hug.

“(Y/n)! I missed you so fucking much!” (Y/s/n) shouts, pressing her cheek into (y/n)’s shoulder. (Y/n) hugs her back tighter before pulling back to look at her face.

“Holy shit! You’ve grown,” (y/n) exclaims as (y/s/n) drags her into the house where their parents were sat with lunch.

“You haven’t seen me in seven years,” (y/s/n) explains sitting (y/n) down and sitting next to her.

“Hi mom, dad,” (y/n) says to the very distasteful parents, her father nods back and her mother harrumphs and looks back down at her food. (Y/n) rolls her eyes and turns to (y/s/n). “How about we go out and I’ll buy you a new record.”

“Oh my gosh! Yes!” (Y/s/n) bounces in her seat, hurrying to finish her food. Their father clears his throat, annoyed at his own daughter. “Sorry, can I go daddy?” (Y/s/n) asks sweetly after wiping her mouth. (Y/f/n) grumbles before nodding.

“Be back by 7,” He grunts, (y/s/n) squeals before jumping up out of her seat and rushing to rinse her plate. “I’m watching you (y/n),” (y/f/n) glares causing (y/n) to roll her eyes and get up.

“Let’s go,” (y/n) nods towards the door to lead her sister to her car. (Y/s/n) follows her sister out the door bursting with questions as they duck into the car.

“What’s it like being a famous radio star? How did you do it? Do you get payed a lot? Is Beverly Hills really pretty?” (Y/s/n) is giddy as she watches (y/n) drive out of the driveway and into the street.

“It’s not as it’s all cut out to be. I did it with my amazing skills. I get paid 17 to 30 thousand a show. Beverly Hills is gorgeous,” (y/n) answers her gaping sister.

“What!” (Y/s/n) shouts, turning to (y/n) with shock.

“I’ll explain more when we’re in the shop, now let me show you real music. Not the crappy stuff dad makes you listen to,” (y/n) reaches to turn up the radio and lets her sister revel in the best music she had.

“Ok, (y/s/n), choose some tapes and a couple records and we can go,” (y/n) said as they walk into the record shop. “I can’t wait for dad’s face when he sees your new music collection,” (y/n) chuckles, pushing her little sister off towards the tapes as (y/n) walks towards the vinyls. She scans the names before smiling and making a beeline to the Led Zeppelin records. Flipping through she hears footsteps come closer which causes her to look up. She smiles impulsively and glances at the name tag.

Her heart stops and memories from years before flood into her head like a waterfall. She stares at his face with wide eyes and feelings she didn’t remember come rushing back. He stares back, remembering exactly who she was. “(y-y/n)?” Richie asks, his voice cracking slightly, he was shell-shocked with her appearance. The last time she was here she said she was never gonna come back.

“Yea. Hi Rich,” She says awkwardly, not really knowing how he was gonna react. She was confused as to why he was still in Derry. “What are yo-” (y/n) starts but is cut off by the force of a hug. “Oh,” She whispers before wrapping her arms around him.

“Jesus Christ, I missed you,” He mutters, pulling away to look at the girl. “You are still so beautiful,” He whispers causing the girl to blush and smile at the taller man.

“Thank you,” (y/n) whispers, opening her mouth to say something but gets cut off by a squeak and a slap of skin. She turns to see two girls, one looking very unimpressed and the other had her hand covering her mouth. “Hi,” (y/n) says nicely, smiling at the two girls. The very excited girl waves back and walks slowly to (y/n).

“Hi, we listen to your radio show all the time,” The excitable girl stammers quietly and grips the hand of her friend. (y/n) smiles and chuckles, turning to glance back at Richie for a moment. “Uh, do you guys want a picture?” (y/n) asks awkwardly, tilting her head in question. The happy girl nods rapidly and walks over to (y/n) after handing a polaroid camera to her friend.

(y/n) and the girl pose before they two girls leave. (y/n) turns around and sees Richie helping her little sister with tapes. He spins and gives a look to (y/n) before walking towards the back room. (y/n) glances at her distracted sister before following Richie into the back. Her eyes scan the small room and find Richie putting boxes on a shelf.

“Did you not leave Derry?” (y/n) asks softly, Richie glances at her before continuing to put things on shelves. (y/n) watches as he thinks over his words as he grabs a couple records.

“I didn’t, I have no money to do so. So I took this dumbass job took get money to leave but rent is a bitch,” Richie says passive aggressively as he passes (y/n) to leave the back, she follows. “I’m fine with it, it’s just this fucking town,” Richie chuckles bitterly, shaking his head. (y/n) furrows her eyebrows and tilts her head in question, crossing her arms. Richie glances at (y/n) and sighs before setting the box of records down.

“I’ve been in this shit town for twenty-four full years, I can’t leave this shit town cause I have no money. You left as soon as you could with the hope of me following you, but that idea went down the fucking drain because my asshole parents don’t wanna give me money. So I’ve been stuck in memories watching each of my friends leave me, the only person left is Mike and he’s always in the library. I live in a small ass apartment in the shittiest part of town. I have to live with a baseball bat next to me at all times or I’m risking a breakin,” Richie rants quietly to (y/n), his face getting closer and closer to her face. She stares at his face with sad eyes, he backs up slowly, looking around.

“When do you get off,” (y/n) asks in a whisper, glancing back at her sister who was balancing a couple tapes on her arm. “I wanna talk,” (y/n) continues, turning back to state at Richie. He bites the inside of his cheek, glancing at his boss who was now watching him.

“I have inventory today, how long are you staying?” Richie asks, (y/n) looks down to think. She was supposed to only stay until tomorrow but she could stay another day, even if her parents protest.

“Two days, you know my parents,” (y/n) says, tucking her hands in her pockets. Richie nods and takes a look at his watch. “Tomorrow? Quarry?” (y/n) mutters, looking up at Richie with hope in her eyes. She had a plan and she was gonna go through with it.

“Tomorrow, quarry,” Richie agrees, grabbing the box of records and walking off to set them in their correct place.

“So, who was that? An old boyfriend?” (y/n) hears (y/s/n) questions with a smirk covering her voice. (Y/n) shakes her head with a smile.

“Somewhat.”

“I want you out by the next two hours,” (y/f/n) commands as (y/n) walks into the house after swimming at the quarry. (Y/n) clenches her jaw and stares her father in the eyes.

“Why are you such a fucking dick? What did I do to you? You are my father too,” (y/n) snaps, glaring. “At least let me say goodbye,” She grumbles watching as her father rolls his eyes and makes his way into the living room. (Y/n) rolls her eyes and makes her way up the stairs to (y/s/n)’s room. She enters and sees the newly 16 year old smiling at a picture as her brand new music plays softly.

“Hey,” (y/n) says softly causing her sister to slam the picture face down to hide it. (Y/n) raises her eyebrows and walks into the room slowly. “What was that?” (Y/n) teases, (y/s/n) glances at (y/n) and picks up the picture to show her.

“His name is Georgie Denbrough,” (y/s/n) whispers, her voice barely audible over the sound of her music. (Y/n) tilts her head at the last name, it sounded familiar, and it was on the tip of her tongue. “He’s so sweet, and he’s bullied for his arm missing, but he doesn’t care. He jokes a lot but he knows his limits. He walks home home sometimes,” (y/s/n) rambles, (y/n) blanking out as she thinks of a time where she rambled like that about who she knew was working right then.

“I have to go, I’ll call you, I promise. Make sure you come to Beverly Hills when you turn 18, okay?” (Y/n) stammers, kissing her sister on the forehead and hugging her tight. “I love you,” (y/n) finalizes before bolting out of the room and straight out the house. She hops in her car and drives over the speed limit to the record shop where Richie would be sulking at the register.

(Y/n) parks haphazardly in a spot and runs into the store, causing Richie, who was falling asleep, to jump and scatter frantically. “(Y/n)? W-what’s? What’s going on?” Richie asks confused, walking around the desk as she storms up to him. (Y/n) grips his shirt and stand on her tip toes to press her lips to his. A messy kiss where their teeth clash and her nose smashes against his. His glasses that were once straightened were tilted and his hands were grasping her waist.

She pulls away slowly, as if she didn’t want it to end. She opens her eyes to see Richie staring at her with wide eyes, he was shocked and memories were surfacing just from his lips brushing against hers. “Come with me,” She mutters. Richie furrows his eyebrows, confusion laced in his expression. “I’ll help you, you can get a job at the studio I work at, maybe you host the show with me,” (y/n) whispers, Richie holds back a smile.

“I won’t have anywhere to live,” Richie whispers back, their bodies were still close. He didn’t want to leave her warmth and familiarity.

“I have a king sized bed,” (y/n) smirks as the expression of Richie’s face changes drastically. He finally let his smile loose and he kisses (y/n) softly again.

“Hey Dick! I quit!” Richie shouts, ripping the tag off his shirt and letting (y/n) lead him out of the store. He throws it into the store and hops in the car with (y/n) in the driver's seat. “Take a left up on Berkeley, you’ll find my apartment pretty close,” Richie comments as (y/n) starts to drive. The sound of a protesting Dick Marquee was heard behind the car as it drives down a street.

“You’ll like Beverly Hills, it’s just your kind of city,” (y/n) smiles at Richie as he smirks back lifting his feet up on the dash.

“Guess we’ll find out.”

#richie tozier #richie tozier imagine #richie tozier x reader #finn wolfhard #finn wolfhard imagine

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the-barrens-are-ours · 6 years

Text

Dog Diggity Darn 3

To say Richie was merely infatuated with Eddie when the Kaspbraks moved in next door would be an understatement.

Richie was head-over-heels in love with him

Whoops, Part 3 comin’ out a month later! My bad

Chapters: 1, 2, 3

Ao3

Word Count: About 2,000

Tag list: @geckolover001 You wanting to be on a tag list actual gave me the motivation to finally finish this. Sorry It’s not super great but it’ll be better next time, I promise!

“You got me a dog?”

Richie tried to keep the disbelief out of his voice but it was damn near impossible to do.

School had just ended three days ago, and even though a month had passed since Richie’s beating from Henry Bowers, his ankle was still in a cast. It had been broken from his fall, but it was only a bit more than a hairline fracture. His hand that had been sliced opened climbing the fence had needed a few stitches, but all of his cuts were pretty much healed by now. His concussion was even gone. Richie had spent the last few weeks of school looking forward to a summer of rest, but this was not what he had in mind.

“We think you having a dog would be good for you,“ Wentworth Tozier looked at Richie briefly before turning back to his newspaper. "It’ll teach you responsibility.”

“Plus,” Maggie Tozier looked at her son with a forced smile, “isn’t he cute?”

Richie glanced at the puppy his mother held. It was a tiny black dog with white paws, white tipped tail, and a white stripe down the middle of its face, around its neck, and down its belly. It had deep brown eyes and was practically smiling at Richie with its perked ears, wagging tail, and lolling tongue. Richie did have to admit it was a cute dog.

He also knew exactly what his parents were up to. It was their ingenious plan to give him something to do all summer long that wasn’t bothering them to go places and do things. Wentworth and Maggie preferred to go off and do their own thing, and taking care of a kid was not included in the agenda of any book club or poker party his parents attended. By giving Richie a dog to train and look after, they had freed themselves of having to spend time with their son over the summer since he’d no longer be busy with school work. It was a clever plan, but Richie would have been fine with an Xbox. Though, he supposes a dog still beats being sent to a Christian summer camp again.

“So what’s his name?” Richie asked his parents, scratching the small dog behind one of its ears.

Maggie shoved the dog at Richie, getting him to take it from her, and wiped her hands on her pants as if the dog was dirty. “We decided you should get to name him since he’s going to be yours!” Maggie’s voice had a fake excitement to it that made Richie want to roll his eyes. “And remember, since he’s your responsibility you can’t expect us to take care of him for you.”

"Wouldn’t want to burden you guys with a dog,” Richie mumbled to himself. He rubbed the small dog’s head and it wiggled excitedly in his arms.

Wentworth folded up his newspaper, throwing it down on the table. “Your mother and I are going out for the day,“ he declared. "If he has any accidents inside, you’re in charge of cleaning up after him. If he chews on anything he’s not supposed to eat, replacements are coming out of your allowance. Do I make myself clear?”

Richie scowled, looking down at the dog so he wouldn’t have to face his dad. Figures that the first chance they got his parents were going to leave him alone. “Yes, sir,” Richie mumbled.

Maggie brushed Richie’s hair in forced affection and followed Wentworth out of the kitchen. Moments later, he heard the front door slam shut and lock. He was all alone with a dog he didn’t ask for.

"Bye guys. Love you.” Richie whispered to himself. His parents could have at least had the decency to pretend they were sad to leave their only child home alone all day.

Richie set the puppy down on the ground gently. It immediately looked up at him expectantly.

“I don’t know what you want from me,“ he told the dog. "I can’t offer you much.”

The puppy responded by sniffing Richie’s dirty cast curiously.

Though the cast was annoying and meant Richie needed to shower with a bag over his foot, he was almost sad that it was getting removed in a few days. He had grown attached to it in a weird way. He’d even gotten his friends to sign it.

Stan had written his name in straight and orderly print, Beverly in flowery script with two hearts, and Ben in big block letters with a very happy smiley face next to it. Richie’s favorite signature on his cast was Eddie’s though, written in small, neat print.

Eddie had looked very guilty when he saw Richie walk into science early Monday morning after his encounter with Henry. They hadn’t been able to talk First Period because Richie was too busy explaining his tale to his friend, but when they got to history, Eddie apologized to him again for all the trouble. Richie knew Eddie didn’t make him save him from Henry, but he appreciated the concern. He asked Eddie to sign his cast, and the other boy did saying it was the least he could do for him.

After that day, the two boys, unfortunately, didn’t talk more like Richie had hoped. They exchanged only a few words during history and when they passed each other in the hallway, but they were hardly friends. At least Eddie didn’t dislike Richie anymore.

Sighing, he glanced at the dog that was wandering about the kitchen. “You like me, right, dog?”

The dog, incapable of speech, merely looked at Richie with wide eyes and yipped in response before walking off again.

“Thanks,” Richie mumbled. Picking up the small dog, Richie headed outside onto the back patio.

The day was still young, but the sun was out in full and was shining down heavily upon Derry. Since his family hardly did anything together as a family, there wasn’t much to the Tozier’s backyard. Just a cheap table with a set of plastic chairs that were absolutely disgusting, and an old soccer ball from fourth grade sitting in the unmowed lawn. Sitting down in the tall grass, Richie set the puppy back down. He watched the small dog totter off, sniffing the yard.

“What am I supposed to call you?” Richie pondered aloud, looking at the dog.

The puppy didn’t so much as glance at him in response. It was too busy smelling the fence shared between the Toziers and Kaspbraks.

Richie chuckled to himself. “Me too, buddy. I, too, wonder what dear Eddie is up to today.”

The dog sat down, tilting its head to the side as it stared at the fence. Richie couldn’t help but let out an involuntary ‘aww’ at the sight. His mom was right- that dog was cute.

Richie sighed, leaning back to lay down. The grass tickled and was extremely uncomfortable since it had burned nearly to a crisp under the harsh summer sun. He supposed they probably should water the lawn, but at the same time, doing so sounded stupid as fuck.

Closing his eyes, Richie let his mind wander as his body relaxed and soaked up the warmth of the sun. Unsurprisingly, his thoughts drifted to Eddie.

Richie had been so sure that after the Bowers incident, the two of them would at least be friends. But now, they were awkward acquaintances at best, and Richie wasn’t exactly sure why. Was he that detestable? Did he do something wrong?

Well, surely, the best way to make friends is to not throw up on them and then laugh about it (Richie still sometimes woke up in a cold sweat at night, cringing at the thought of that moment. He was so fucking dumb). At the same time though, he felt that he did some respectable things that day and that the two of them had parted on relatively good terms.

But then again, Richie had admitted that he was practically in love with Eddie, and after creepily staring at him constantly for weeks, that probably didn’t settle well with the other boy. He probably went home and looked up if he could get a restraining order placed on a fourteen-year-old. The only reason it felt like they parted on good terms may have been because Eddie felt bad that he was the reason Richie had the shit beaten out of him. Richie didn’t regret saving Eddie in the slightest, he just wished he understood the other boy’s actions.

Richie groaned in frustration. Feelings were fucking confusing.

He wasn’t sure how long he laid there in the grass. Richie must have dozed off at some point because when he opened his eyes again a few clouds now dotted what was once a clear blue sky.

He sat up slightly dazed. His face was burning hot and Richie felt like it may have gotten sunburned. Groaning, he tried to reorient himself and figure out what was going on. Why was he even outside in the first place?

Oh right. He had a dog now.

Richie glanced around the yard, trying to locate the small ball of fluff. The grass was a bit tall, but it still shouldn’t have been this hard to find the dog. It couldn’t have gone far in the Tozier’s small backyard.

Standing up and brushing off his pants, Richie took another frantic look around the yard and froze. The dog wasn’t there.

He had had a dog for less than an hour and had already lost it. He hadn’t even named the dog yet!

“Oh no,” Richie gripped his hair, glancing around the yard desperately. “Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no.”

He tried to think back to the last time he saw the dog. He’d definitely brought it outside with him and closed the back door, so it wasn’t somewhere in the house. The dog started sniffing around the Kaspbrak’s fence when Richie laid and that’s the last time he saw it.

Richie sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. That wasn’t very helpful. So what the dog was sniffing around the fence? It’s not like dogs could climb fences like a cat could so it’s not like it could have gone over the fence.

But a dog could have dug under it.

Richie went over to the fence, carefully looking down its length to see if the ground around it was disturbed anywhere. He spotted a hole, about ten feet from his house that went right under the fence. A hole Richie knew was not there before. A hole that looked big enough for a small dog to get under.

That had to be where the dog went- into the Kaspbrak’s yard.

Richie took off back into his house as quick as he could with his casted foot. He unlocked the front door and crossed across his lawn onto the Kaspbrak’s. After awkwardly hobbling up the front porch steps, Richie banged on the front door.

It took almost a minute, but eventually, the front door opened. Eddie raised an eyebrow at Richie.

“My dog,” Richie panted, more out of breath than he realized.

“Since when do you have a dog?”

“Since an hour ago,” Richie explained, “and he dug under the fence and I’m pretty sure he’s in your backyard.”

Eddie stared at him in slight disbelief. “So you got a dog an hour ago, you already lost him, and you think he’s in my backyard?”

“I mean,” Richie nodded, “yeah.”

The other boy sighed. “I’ll go check. Wait here.”

Eddie closed the door on Richie before he could get another word in. He stood there, looking at the door.

It seemed like Eddie was right back to being annoyed with Richie again, which he thought was unfair. He hadn’t done anything to him. Frankly, he also had no idea what to do about it either. How do you even get someone who doesn’t want to be around you to like you?

It took a minute, but Eddie eventually opened the door back up. In his arms, he held Richie’s puppy who squirmed around slightly. Eddie’s face had a beaming smile on it.

Richie sighed in relief at the sight of his dog. “There you are, buddy!”

The dog yipped excitedly and Eddie chuckled, scratching the small canine behind its ear. “Is that his name?”

Richie furrowed his eyebrows. “Is what his name?”

“Buddy. You said ‘There you are, buddy.’ Is he ‘Buddy’?”

Richie debating telling Eddie that he actually didn’t have a name for the dog yet but he already seemed like a bad enough pet owner, he didn’t need any more strikes against him. “Umm, yeah. That’s Buddy. Cute little rascal, ain’t he?” Richie ruffled the dog’s head affectionately and laughed awkwardly.

“He’s so sweet. I wish my mom would let me get a dog. She’s worried that it’d attack me in the middle of the night or that it’d infect me with rabies.”

Richie laughed, but a look at Eddie’s face made him realize that he was dead serious. He cleared his throat. “Sounds pretty strict.”

“Strict is an understatement,” Eddie snorted, “she makes maximum security look like a vacation.”

“Yikes,” Richie grimaced. He looked at the other boy and whistled. “Oh la la, Eds, where are you going dressed like that?” He winked.

Eddie rolled his eyes, handing Buddy over to Richie at last. He was wearing a nice collared shirt with the shortest pair of shorts Richie thinks he’s ever seen. It wasn’t anything scandalous or fancy, but Richie still thought the other boy looked nice. He also noticed the faint pink dusting Eddie’s cheeks. “I’m not going anywhere; just down to the Barrens to hang out with Stan and Bill.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, since when do Bill and Stan hang out?” This is the first Richie’s ever heard of his best friend hanging out with Eddie’s. “And since does Stan hang out anywhere without me?”

The other boy rolled his eyes again. “Do you honestly expect Stan’s life to revolve around you?”

“It beats it revolving around bird books.”

Eddie sighed. “I don’t know when they started hanging out together, I just know they do.”

“Unfair!” Richie gasped. “Why are you the only one who gets to enjoy the merging of our two friend groups? Everyone should be invited! There should be a celebration!”

Buddy yipped in agreement in his hands and Eddie smiled at the small dog. When he looked back at Richie’s face, the smile faded. “Do you really want to go to the Barrens with us that badly?”

“More than anything,” Richie breathed dramatically.

Eddie was silent for a moment, thinking things over. At last, he sighed again. “Fine. I’ll call Bill and ask if it’s fine for you to come along.”

“And Ben and Bev!” Richie chipped in. “If those two are building a dam, no one would know how to put it together quite like Ben. Plus,” Richie lowered his voice and leaned in towards Eddie, “we all know Beverly’s the strongest out of all of us. It’s shameful, but it’s true.”

“Fine. I’ll call you and inform you of Bill’s decision. Bye, Rich.” Eddie shut the door.

Despite just having the door of his crush closed in his face, Richie smiled to himself. He felt like he, metaphorically, had a foot in Eddie’s door. He felt he was getting closer to him, that he was beginning to open up to Richie and stop rejecting and ignoring him constantly. And it seemed to all be thanks to his dog digging over into the Kaspbrak’s yard.

Richie looked down at Buddy who merely panted happily. “Man’s best friend?” Richie asked the pup. “More like man’s best wingman. You and I are going to get along nicely, little guy.”

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #wentworth tozier #maggie tozier #the losers club #it movie 2017 #it stephen king

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kafka-ish · 4 years

Text

sleep-over | b.d.

it’s been years since bill denbrough’s been to an actual sleepover. but when someone invites him over for the night, he can’t seem to pass up the opportunity to join them.

word count: 3,313

warnings/included: fluff, fem!reader

request: (from anonymous) “hiii could i please request a bill denbrough fic? you can decide what it’s about but just lots of fluff and something really cute”

a/n: repost bc my tumblr tags didn’t work on the last one and i didn’t realize until now,, also based off of this song

“Do you...do you want to come over?” y/n asked. Those were the first words to spill from her mouth when she dialed Bill’s phone at twelve-o-one a.m. She didn’t have to look out her window to know it was late because of the darkness that engulfed her room, but she also knew she had Bill wrapped around her finger and he’d do anything for her if she asked.

“Luh-like a ss-sleepover?” Bill’s shoulder was pressing his phone to his ear as he paced back and forth in his room. He looked out his window to see nothing. Just a dark abyss that beckoned for him, the same way y/n did from over the phone.

“Yeah. Like a sleepover.” y/n thought back to the multiple sleepovers she and he had before when they were younger.

When dusk ate the day and it got too late, Bill would stay the night at the y/l/n’s house. Her mother would have y/n’s brother keep an eye on the two of them because god knows what would happen if the two were left alone (even at an early age).

“Loser has to fit five marshmallows in their mouth,” y/n declared as she was setting up Candyland. She already had dibs on the purple gingerbread man so Bill supposed he’d just have to play as yellow.

“Oh-oh-okay.” A wide smile formed on a young Bill Denbrough’s mouth and his chest moved in sync with the guffaws he was trying to contain. “B-b-but I don’t think your...your mouth is that big.”

y/n’s grin matched his and Bill had gotten cocky that night because he had found y/n’s gingerbread man crossing the rainbow finish line before his and he could only hold three of the Jumbo Jet-Puffs in his mouth.

“I’ll b-be ri-right over.” Bill had unintentionally slammed the receiver back on the dial pad. He had never been so fast to pack up in his entire life, but he also didn’t take much; just a fresh pair of boxers, a change of basketball shorts, a t-shirt similar to the one he was wearing, and his toothbrush. It had been forever ago since he and a friend like Stan or Mike spent the night at each other’s houses. It had been a lifetime ago since he spent the night at y/n’s house.

He walked—no—ran out the door, almost forgetting his shoes in the process (which he slipped on without socks). His duffle bag was light on his arm and threatened to slip off more than once if Bill hadn’t been careful. He made it to y/n’s house in record’s time, but he also lived four blocks away.

Bill waited outside of y/n’s door. His fingers fought with each other and he noticed that the green porch light was still on.

“What are you doing?” y/n called down from above. She could freely yell into the earth’s crisp air because the neighborhood was asleep, and she didn’t have to worry about her brother who was sleeping in one of the dorms Duke University provided.

“I didn’t know if I should knock or not,” Bill answered honestly. He knew y/n was rolling her eyes at his response whether he could see her face clearly or not. He could hear her loud footsteps—rushed and enthusiastic—from inside the house as she trampled down the stairs to let him in.

“Hi!” She looked up at him wide-eyed and bushy-tailed because Bill stood tall and lean while y/n was like a dainty sprig—fragile and still waiting for spring to bloom—at least compared to him.

A smile couldn’t help but draw itself on Bill’s face when she greeted him. She was dressed in a white tank top and cotton sleep shorts and it was in that moment when Bill realized how much she’d grown. How much they’d all grown.

“Are you ready?” y/n eyed him curiously because it’d been seconds since she said anything and Bill had yet to reply.

“Ye-yeah,” Bill said. He stepped in. “Where?” Gulp. “Where should I puh-puh-put this?” He held up the seemingly empty duffle and y/n took it from him only to toss it aside next to the potted plant that greeted guests as they walked in.

“We can come back for it later. Now come on.” She was dragging him back outside. “I need an adventure!” She locked the door behind them with her golden house key she had turned into a necklace by feeding a length of black lace through the middle hole. She wore that thing everywhere she went.

“Ad-adventure?” One of Bill’s untrimmed eyebrows raised and y/n nodded as soon as the word left his mouth. “I th-th-hought this was a s-sl-sleepover.”

y/n giggled. Her small hand only covered a third of his as she grabbed it and led him from her front lawn and across the street. “Who actually sleeps at a sleepover?”

That was true. As he recalled, the last time he ‘slept over’ at Richie Tozier’s house, neither of them had actually closed their eyes.

Bill hadn’t noticed he was now in front and y/n stood a few paces behind him until he felt the warmth of her hand leave his. She was taking the time to light the cigarette she had balanced between her bottom and top lip. Bill chuckled softly at the sight behind him. She was a sight for sore eyes.

He stepped back to meet her figure whose nimble fingers were concentrating on flicking the purple BIC at hand.

“Nuh-need help?” Bill took the lighter from her and it came to life with one swift move of his thumb.

“Yo-you know s-s-s-smoking is... Once you start, you cuh-can’t s-s-s-top.” Bill said this as if her were a father, telling his child about the dangers of drug usage. But he still lit the stick that was poking from y/n’s pouting lips.

She took a drag from the cigarette. It was long and she coughed afterward because she hated the taste. Bill could tell she wasn’t an experienced smoker and that this had probably been her second pack. “I’m already addicted,” she said. The cigarette muffled her words. But it wasn’t the nicotine she was addicted to. She was addicted to fitting in.

Bill shook his head which he’d inadvertently thrown back while he was consumed in laughter. “You guh-guh-got an-hother one?” He asked and y/n reached in the elastic of her waistband to grab a pack of Mavericks (a gift from Bev). The box was full except for one and she had also stashed a twenty-dollar bill in the gaping space between the tobacco sticks.

“I didn’t take you for a smoker,” y/n said while tossing him a smoke.

“Fuh-first time for eh-everything.” Bill shrugged and lit the end like a natural. It wasn’t his first time, he just said that to make y/n feel better.

The two walked in comfortable silence. y/n was still trailing behind, but only to admire Bill’s frame under the white moonlight—not to enjoy her barely smoked cigarette because maybe she wanted pink lungs until she was old and wrinkled and had to have be waited on hand and foot at the nursing home.

It took them ten minutes to arrive at a worn-down gas station and it would’ve taken them five if y/n wasn’t lollygagging or if Bill didn’t stop to point at the stars every three seconds.

“Lo-ook at that one!” He’d say with the innocence of a child. His sneakers would make a scraping sound against the abandoned road when he came to a halt and y/n would bump into his shoulder because she never looked where she was going.

“It kind of looks like the mole on the back of your-“ Bill nudged her, causing her to wobble and drop the Maverick. It was one with nature now. Good riddance.

Bill put out his own half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray that sat on top of the garbage can next to the glass doors of the QwikTrip.

It was bright inside. Too bright. The empty gas station felt completely different from when they were slumming it in the outside and dancing to the sound of crickets chirping.

But y/n didn’t notice. She was too busy in her own world, mixing together a cherry and coke flavored slushie to make cherry coke. She watched in childlike wonder at the contents inside the slushie machine that whirled ‘round and ‘round so the ice could mix thoroughly with the syrup (a slushie with an imperfect ice-to-syrup ratio was not a slushie; it was just flavored ice). She didn’t notice the guy working the cash register who was obviously checking her out.

But Bill did.

An odd feeling struck at his heart which was now beating faster as he watched the greasy boy about their age eye his childhood friend.

“H-have you ever dr-dr-“ Bill paused. “Had alcohol?” Bill wondered aloud. y/n had just finished preparing Bill’s slushie for him—plain banana—so her attention could now focus on just him. Internally, Bill was banging his head against the wall for asking such a stupid question. But that’s what y/n made him in recent developments: stupid.

Every teenager drinks he thought to himself. But y/n wasn’t like every teenager.

“No.” y/n shook her head and Bill found his eyes roaming to the liquor case in the back of the store.

They both knew what each other meant and Bill just about dashed to the fridge the same way he dashed out his door when y/n called him that night.

y/n was waiting for him at the paying counter. She took small sips at her cherry coke slushie but luckily Bill didn’t take too long. He came back, holding a clear bottle of liquid that y/n didn’t know the name of. He set the glass on the counter and reached in his pocket only for his heart to fall twelve meters into its grave because he left his wallet at home.

“Don’t worry about it,” y/n reassured. Her hand settled on his momentarily. “I’ll get it. Just wait outside.”

So he did. But waiting outside nearly killed him.

“These please.” y/n gave the stranger her biggest smile, teeth and all, as she pushed the bottle of gin and two slushie cups across the counter for him to scan.

“Was that your boyfriend?” The cashier asked. His face could be mistaken for a pepperoni pizza and his blonde hair was uncombed. The graveyard shift really does some things to people.

“No...” y/n blushed and the stranger thought it was because she found him attractive. It was actually the idea that other people thought of Bill and her as a couple that caused y/n’s cheeks to tint. y/n looked up at the boy through her long lashes and it should be counted as a crime to not know the effect you have on the people around you.

A sly smile reached all the way to the boy’s eyes. “You know what? It’s on me.” He printed out her receipt. There were just three items marked as $0.00. The only numbers that added up to something were the ones on the bottom which he said was his phone number. “Call me.” He winked.

Bill felt like he was being stabbed all from watching the two flirt and before another invisible knife could make another incision in his already delicate heart, y/n was out the door. Two diabetes-filled cups occupied both hands while a plastic bag hung from her arm.

“Hi!” She said this in the same way she greeted him.

Bill covered his mouth when he coughed before sputtering out a hi.

She sat down on the curb outside of the gas station, her legs crossed like a pretzel. She sat both cups down, taking a sip from both straws. Her tropical-flavored chapstick tainted his red straw and Bill would taste pineapple mixed with banana later when he took a sip.

y/n’s mouth tingled at the taste of banana slushie. Who the hell gets a banana slushie? She supposed she’d never get used to the taste, but it was worth a try.

Bill took a seat on the rough pavement next to her. He knew his ass would hurt once he got up, especially if they would sit like this for a while, but he didn’t care.

“D-d-do you want… muh-muh-maybe wuh-want to g-g-go somewhere no… nobody will see?” Bill asked tentatively.

y/n smiled with the plastic still between her teeth. It was a more pleasant feeling than rolled-up tobacco. “Who would even see us here?”

Bill laughed but he thought back to how the cashier was eyeing her while she fixed her slushie. It wasn’t the same way he’d look at her. It was slimy and gross. But that was behind them now as he slipped an arm around her and held her close.

His shirt was old and worn, but it felt soft and homey against the skin of her cheek. She nuzzled close into his chest, feeling his ribcage and smelling the Old Spice that lingered from when he applied it earlier in the afternoon.

She hadn’t been this close since their last sleepover.

They were thirteen and y/n had originally invited him over to watch High Society on the new television set her parents bought and finally got around to setting up in the den. She promised she wouldn’t get jealous if he stared at Grace Kelly because he’d tell her the same about Gregory Peck. But Bill didn’t get the chance to stare because the ribbon was detached from the VHS, ruining their whole plans.

Bill wouldn’t have stared anyway—not when there was someone worth staring at who sat on the couch next to him.

“I’m so sorry.” It must’ve been the tenth time she apologized but Bill only waved his hand like how he wished he could wave the rest of her worries away. “I didn’t know it was all screwy... It’s been years since I’ve actually put the damn thing in.”

“Don-don’t-t worry ab-b-bout it,” Bill said. He glanced up at the clock on the mantle. It was getting late and the beginning of a sunset could now be seen from outside the living room window.

“You should be getting home.” y/n was looking at the clock with him. Bill shook his head.

“Ih-it’s ff-fine.” He shoved a handful of popcorn that y/n popped herself in his mouth. “Do-do you h-h-have an eh-eh-extra toothbrush? O-o-or I cuh-cuh-could leave early.”

y/n knew what he was referring to and a smile graced her already angelic lips. She was getting excited just at the thought of having a companion by her side during the witching hour. y/n jumped to her feet and skipped over to Bill on her bare feet. “What will you sleep in?... I could offer you my nightgown!” She laughed at the image in her head which projected a picture of a scrawny Bill Denbrough wearing one of y/n’s frilly nightdresses even she didn’t wear anymore.

“I cuh-cuh-can ju-just sleep in th-th-this.” He shrugged and y/n could only think that boys were strange.

By the time both of them had brushed their teeth, Bill was already tuckered out. Maybe it was from watching y/n mess with the VHS player for so long. Or maybe it was from running over to y/n’s house when she had excitedly announced her parents set up a new television set and she wanted him to be the first one over to experience it and his legs were still tired from carrying him.

“Do you want to watch a different movie? I’d hate to invite you over just to not do anything.” y/n picked at her fingernails, too afraid to meet Bill’s eye because she was scared he hated her.

Bill could never hate her.

“Nah.” Bill spread out on her double bed that she had made prior. He sunk into the plush covers and felt himself doze off until y/n hit him with a pillow.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She was hovering over him, scared that she’d fall and break her neck if she lost balance.

“Sl-sleeping.” Bill closed his eyes once more. “I’m kuh-kuh-kinda t-t-tired.”

“Move over.” y/n wasn’t tired, but she’d do whatever Bill wanted. She laid down next to him and there couldn’t possibly be enough room on the bed for both of them—at least with the way Bill was spread out.

She snuggled close to him, able to smell the toothpaste he used and the natural smell of vanilla that clung to his skin.

But right now, Bill didn’t want the night to end as they sat three years older and in an empty parking lot. If BIll had one wish, he’d wish this night would last forever. Just him and her and the space surrounding them.

y/n’s eyelids felt heavy and her legs felt gelatin-like. She fell into a dreamlike trance while Bill’s arm acted as a blanket around her, but she didn’t want the night to end like this.

“Ar-are you t-t-tired?” Bill asked. y/n could feel his arm remove itself from her and she visibly shivered.

“No,” she lied but he knew better than that.

“I’ll wuh-wuh-walk you h-home.”

Their trek back to y/n’s house was slower than it was when they left it. y/n didn’t mind. She basked in the presence of Bill’s calming aura and Bill felt the same. Both of them, however, were too afraid to tell each other that.

y/n could barely keep herself stood upright on her own. Bill had to stabilize her with his left hand. His right hand was gently figuring out a way to remove the key necklace that hung from her neck.

“That tickles!” y/n giggled loudly when the icy tips of his fingers brushed her sensitive skin.

“Shh,” Bill whisper shouted. “Th-there are puh-puh-people sleeping.” He looked at the time on his digital watch. Not for long, anyway.

“Shh,” y/n echoed back to him.

The front door creaked open. Bill cringed and hoped it wouldn’t wake her parents, but y/n told him it shouldn’t matter because they were heavy sleepers. He trusted her.

When both of them stepped in, y/n was the one to shut the door just like she had when they left. Afterward, they tip-toed up the stairs. Bill clutched his duffle bag and y/n still had the plastic one which contained the alcohol.

“Fuck...” y/n giggled at the curse word that left her lips. “Marry, or kill.”

“What’re m-my options?” Bill slurred. He was too scared to look up at her, so he looked at the dark ceiling. He was sprawled out on her bed—taking up most of the room—like he did when they were thirteen.

“Me, Beverly, and...” y/n sighed. She forgot the name of the girl who sat in front of her in math class. “Henrietta Simons.”

“Huh-who’s Henrietta?” Bill asked, but he already knew his answer.

“Someone you should kill.” y/n shrugged and stared at the ceiling with him, trying to find out what was so interesting about it.

“Kuh-kill Henrietta,” Bill said, and a proud smile found its way on y/n’s lips. “Fuck-ck Bev, an-” He didn’t really have to finish after that.

“You wouldn’t have sex with me?” y/n asked. She was only teasing but Bill knew she wouldn't have said that if she was sober.

“It-it’s not luh-luh-like th-that.” Bill took a deep breath and he didn’t know if this was the night he wanted to be saying all of this but that’s what everything felt like it was leading up to. “I guh-guess I ju-just want t-to marry you.” Bill closed his eyes at the drunken words that thought would be okay to leave his mouth.

“I wanna marry you too,” y/n said through a series of hiccups and a fit of laughter.

They both knew what was coming next. And even though neither of them didn’t want the night to end, it had to.

#it 2017 #it 2019 #it chapter 1 #it chapter 2 #it x reader #it imagine #it fanfic #it fic #losers x reader #losers club x reader #bill denbrough #bill denbrough x reader #bill denbrough x reader fluff #bill denbrough imagine #bill denbrough fanfic #bill denbrough fanfiction #bill denbrough fluff #bill denbrough fic

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fine-wolfhard · 6 years

Text

Loverboy Vol 2. | Richie Tozier Imagine

Authors Note: This writing only took a little over a week due to the encouragement and requests of everyone tagged at the bottom of this post. Thank you for your support and I hope you enjoy. Please read the first part for context.

Loverboy Vol 1.

Summary: Richie has an hour stuck with a girl he’s just met before her parents come home. Feelings and insecurities control everything | Self Insert, Female Reader, Richie Character Focused, Fluff

Word Count: 1876

- How long is an hour?

Well from a literal standpoint its sixty minutes. But an hour doesn’t always feel the same length, it can feel longer or shorter depending on the context of the hour and how desperate you are for it to last or pass.

We’re all familiar with a long hour, one where you stare at the clock yet every time you blink you’re sure the hands have moved backwards. Often experience during a lecture, waiting in line or any boring situation; later cannot come soon enough.

Short hours are another form of irritation. Listening to a new album, walks in moonlight and any positive memories in the making just seem to fly by before you can fully appreciate them.

But the current hour of Richie Tozier’s life he wanted to last forever.

He knew from the outside it didn’t appear to be much more then two classmates sitting in front of a fire to escape the storm outside. Which wasn’t an inaccurate assumption, but what wasn’t shown was the fire that burned in Richie’s chest.

Somehow hotter and bigger then the one across from him, heading the blood in his veins to every inch of his body until he was sure the blanket she’d placed over his shoulders was doing more bad then good.

It was a strange feeling, the closest he could associate it with was when he first saw Beverly. But that wasn’t the same, that feeling was fleeting and didn’t clog his throat or make him want to simultaneously run away and towards her.

Her.

The girl who was older then him by a mere year and equipped with a polaroid camera and endless inspiration had changed his perception of the world. Before her he’d assume the only people, who’d be willing to spend time with him would be his fellow losers. But here he was, sitting next to a girl who didn’t seem to care she was spending an evening with Trashmouth Tozier.

Henry had friends because they didn’t want to get hurt, Greta had friends because they feared her, and Richie had friends because they felt sorry for him.

But she’d managed to stay on Henry’s good side, avoid Greta’s lashes without finding herself in the loser’s club. How? He couldn’t pinpoint any single thing, her entirety just seemed to be likeable.

And as much as he was enjoying glancing at her from the corner of his eye while she rested her head on her knees studying the flames, he knew he needed to say something before she picked up on the tapping of his foot that was ringing in his ears.

“How’d you get into photography?”

She rolls her head back and closes her eyes.

“Do you know how many times I’ve been asked that by acquaintances? It’s getting annoying.”

She opens her eyes and meets his as he stutters out a response that gets lost behind his teeth and he wondered if this is how Bill feels each time he gets teased by Bev. But before he can form an apology she smiles lazily and turns back towards the fire.

“Sister liked photography, wouldn’t let me touch cameras while I was a kid. She moved away, a camera got left behind. I tried it and liked it, then two years later a curly haired loser thought there was a more interesting story behind my hobby.”

He doesn’t push any further, because he recognizes the emotion behind her eyes. She’s smiling at him, but her eyes aren’t happy. They’re like Eddie’s when you mention his lack of interest in girls, or Bill’s when you mention his brother. They tell you ‘don’t ask’, and he knows firsthand how uncomfortable it is when people ask anyway.

Richie mumbles an apology anyway, not wanting to ruin the serine moment further because of his habit of talking before thinking it through.

“When’d you figure out you needed glasses?” She moves on quickly, and he’s thankful they aren’t stuck in another silence.

“I was in school, like first or second grade and I couldn’t read what was on the whiteboard. I’d try my best but when I’d write down what I saw it wasn’t even close to being spelt right. It took some convincing, but my parents took me to the eye doctor who probably thought it would be funny to give me a pair with magnifying glasses for lenses.”

He tilts his head to the side to show emphasis before pushing them back up the bridge of his nose.

“Wish I’d gotten them earlier, Miss Addams had such a nice rack I couldn’t see or appreciate at the time.”

She snorts slightly and raises her eyebrows at him.

“Sure, Miss Addams is hot, but I doubt at seven years old you would have wanted to see it. I’ll admit it though; her name is spelt with double ds for a reason.”

When they’re laughing together things feel right. Despite the storm that is now raging outside with rain cascading down the windows and thunder rumbling in the clouds, things are calm.

She throws the blanket off her shoulders and practically bounces to the closest window the study the storm. Richie stands close and looks up at the sky as she does, slightly struggling to see through the condensation their breath causes.

“Rain is like the coolest thing. Shows up shitty on camera though, guess enjoying it is just a privilege of the present.”

Her words are poetic but she doesn’t seem aware of what she’s talking about since she’s distracted drawing a smiley face on the glass.

He doesn’t even have to thing twice before drawing a dick in his own breath, which they both find a lot funnier then they probably should.

The song on the radio is faded but so is the rain outside, and Richie would pat himself on the back for how well he’s focusing on her smile right now if his own wasn’t a few inches away.

He isn’t aware of the closeness until he can feel her breath against his cheeks. It’s a faint breeze that’s buzzing with warmth and he feels and urge to get closer, just so he could tell her what he’s been thinking since her eyes met his-

“Well now that you’re all smile-y and hopefully warmed up, do you want to do some indoor shots to pass the time?”

“I’m addicted to modelling now; let’s not let this gorgeous bod go to waste.”

She interrupted his train of thought, but he isn’t jumping to retort with insult to do with her mum, he wasn’t ready to say it anyway.

“I feel like a dad. A sad, slightly chubby, very drunk and about to be divorced dad.”

The camera flashes before she looks over at him with her eyebrows raised.

“That was a strangely specific example, do you know many sad, slightly chubby, very drunk soon to be divorced men?”

He pulls at the collar of the bathrobe her father owned that she’d convinced him to wear while leaning back casually on the recliner. He knows who he reminds himself of, but as he wants to make her like him mentioning his home life would achieve the opposite.

“Yeah, Eddie’s mum.” He brushes it of casually, although the last syllable gets lost within a laugh.

She chuckles slightly but is more interested in taking another two photos as he laughs at himself.

“You talk a lot about this Eddie kid and his mum, and I don’t know him but why do I get the feeling you do this very often; especially around him?” She asks while looking down at the recently printed photos.

“Obviously, but Ed’s knows it’s a joke so its all good. Sometimes earns me a punch in the arm though, clear indication I’ve gone too far.”

She hums in response, but he assumes she isn’t listening fully because she’s focused on the newly added photos to their collection. Their laid out in order of production, although he’s sure there is a few missing.

Pulling the bathrobe off his shoulders, Richie kneels to the same height as her to study the prints more closely himself. He’s proud, and not nearly as insecure as he thought he’d be this morning.

Despite the jokes and persona he presented to his friends, he didn’t love himself or the way he looked.

His eyes were too big and dopey, his cheeks were chubby and made him look like a baby and no matter how much he rode his bike he stayed as skinny and wimpy as a skeleton. He understood everyone saw the worst in themselves when they faced off to a mirror, but he knew he wasn’t alone in thinking photos just highlighted those problems. They were just reflections that lasted forever.

But these photos, they were different.

It wasn’t the angle, lighting or costume. No, it was her.

Her encouragement and mere presence made the voice in the back of his head that screamed harassment quiet. He knows its still there because without it he’s sure he would have already proposed, and he’s thankful it is because it keeps him safe from bad situations.

Unlike before however, the voice wasn’t holding him back from taking a leap of faith. A figurative one, despite the literal one he’d almost run away from last year. With her around and blatantly telling him those insecurities were positives in her eyes they stood out less. He thought he looked gorgeous in the photos.

Richie wasn’t stupid though. He knew once she was gone and he was alone in his room the voice was going to get louder and find other problems. He would be naïve if he believed his problems would be instantly solved by ‘true love’.

But he believed that with time and her help, he would learn to leave the voice as a background thought rather than letting it take the wheel. It was never going to disappear, but he would grow because of it.

The voice wasn’t audible now though, degrading the idea or telling him every bad scenario that would happen if he told the girl he’d met hours earlier that she was filling him with a buzz he was unfamiliar with yet already addicted too. He would tell her that he would go as far as to say this day has made him smile bigger and laugh harder than any day at the quarry or highscore at the arcade.

He thinks its insulting to think let alone say that about his friends, but he’s aware that these emotions could just be some curse she’s put on him. Right now though, he’s thankful for the curse.

Richie says her name so softly his lips hardly move, but she perks up instantly and meets his eyes and asks him what he needs.

A door opens and the sound of rain fills the house and rings in his ears. It’s suddenly cold like the fire has suddenly turned to ice. The unfamiliar voice of an adult calls out in greeting followed by echoing footsteps. Everything slows down to a haze around Richie Tozier.

The moment is interrupted. The chance is taken away that spent 60 minutes in the making.

The hour is over.

Part three is already being planned, along with a forth and possibly fifth installment. I am very pleased an idea I assumed would be a one-shot has become a min-fic due to my current inspiration.

Thank you to the lovely people who not only made me smile because of their nice words but also requested a second part. xxo

@broken-pieces @oliolioxiclean @capxls @carlotochi @flickerflies @stay-in-yo-lane-bitch-8675 @captain–americanna @sleepyrichie

My apologies if I missed/miss tagged someone. This was not aimed to be annoying, just a thank you.

#richie #richie tozier #richie x reader #richie tozier imagine #richie tozier x reader #writing #it #it 2017 #it 2017 imagine #richie fanfiction #richie tozier fanfiction #richie tozier fanfic #richie fanfic #richie x female reader #richie tozier x female reader #richie x self-insert #richie tozier x self-insert #richie x y/n #richie tozier x y/n

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theperksofbeingawallflwer-blog · 6 years

Text

You and Me

pairing: stozier (stanley uris x richie tozier)

warning(s): fluff, talk of abuse and depression, swearing, mentions of SEX (but not full on smut ok)

okay i was listening to "you and me" by penny & the quaters and iT INSPIRED ME (also they're like 17 in this okay)

The world was ultimately correct when it said that opposites attract. For as long as anyone could remember, opposites have attracted and they haved worked. The age old story of 'good girl falls for bad boy', the tale of 'two unlikely people getting together to make something work', food combinations and drink combinations that don't sound good spoken out loud or even thought about, but mix amazingly and taste so fucking good when you eat or drink them. Humans have proved the world right. Opposites do attract.

Richie Tozier is the opposite of Stanley Uris. Richie is loud and jokes all the time and Stan is pretty shy and quiet and he tends to take things seriously, which Richie does not. The two have been friends for a really long time and they have always gotten along great and if they were a wacky food combination or drink combination, they would be the ones to mix well and go great together. They compliment one another and it's been that way since first grade. They been stuck side by side for so long that being apart for a long amount of time is so foreign to them. Richie gets Stan's jokes when no one else does and Stan notices when Richie isn't being Richie when no one else does. They get each other. They know each other better than anyone else.

Stan knows Richie's home life isn't the best and he keeps his window opened halfway every night just in case something happens and Richie has no other place to go. Stan also knows Richie hates to be serious and he hides his emotions behind humor, which Stan sometimes hates because he likes deep, meaningful conversations, and with Richie you can't have those. But Stan wouldn't have it any other way - he likes Richie just the way he is. Richie knows that Stan is always in his head and needs to be pulled away from reality sometimes so he takes him to the matinee to get transported to the world of foreign films and - Stan would get sucked into storylines and plots and characters and his own problems fall away as Richie sits next to him and watches with awe and wonder. Because to Richie, Stan is beautiful. Even more beautiful than any actor or actress on the big screen - that's another thing Richie knows.

They both also know that their parents are super religious (and maybe to some extent they are too) and would never allow them to date because of that. But they also know that they love each other way too fucking much to let what they have go.

Their close friendship grew into something more big and beautiful and it was everything they could ever dream of.

Because Stan suffers from severe depression and anxiety, he's often stuck in bed and not wanting to talk to anyone or do anything. There are times when he zones out and gets lost in his head. His anxiety stops him from doing things he wants to do and that only makes him feel more shittier than before. But when he's having a depressive episode, Richie is there to make sure he'll be okay. He'll come over through Stan's window when Stan doesn't pick up the phone or his parents say he's still asleep and it's past noon, and he'll lay there in bed with him. Sometimes Richie falls asleep too and they just lie there together, peacefully snoring, or Richie will lay next to Stan and watch the boy as he dreams behind the lids of his eyes. Richie loved to run his fingers through Stan's hair to calm him down when he feels like he's losing control and anxiety and fear are coursing through his veins. Richie holds his trembling hand and kisses it repeatedly and rubs the pad of his thumb over Stan's knuckles. When Stan has a breakdown, Richie is there to hold him and remind him that he's okay and the walls aren't closing in on him and the air is still air and birds are still chirping and the grass is grass and Richie is Richie and he's never leaving.

The times where Richie would run away from home because of something that happened with his parents, Stan would do everything in his power to comfort Richie and make him feel safe. The window is always cracked and Stan is usually doing homework or reading, so the moment he hears the window sliding up, his head turns and he drops everything. Richie's dad and alcohol is not a good mix, and it the bruises on Richie's arms and face shows that. Stan would run downstairs to grab a bag of frozen peas or frozen corn and a towel to wrap around them and he'll rush back up to his room to press the freezing bag against either Richie's face or his back or his arms. They'll lay together on Stan's bed and Stan will comb Richie's hair back while kissing his forehead and cheeks and nose, whispering calming words. Richie tries not to cry, but he usually ends up doing so and when it happens, Stan cradles him to his chest and holds him tight, letting the boy sob and scream into his body. Stan himself tries not to cry because he hates seeing the one person he loves most in the world in pain.

They were each other's distractions and when things went to shit, they would escape for a little bit. They went to the movies or the park or they played boardgames. Sometimes Stan would read a book out loud while Richie lies down next to him, his eyes closed and his ears trained and focused on Stan's voice. They would sometimes get burgers and ice cream at this small place in town that they went to with the rest of the losers - the two boys would just sit in a booth in the back and joke around and laugh while eating their burgers and fries or chili dogs.

They'd ride their bikes really late at night sometimes, sneaking out of their windows and trying to be as quiet as they can. They ride down to the park, where the lake is and they sit on the bench and stare out at the stars and the moon and the water. Stan would lay his head down in Richie's lap and they'd talk about any-fucking-thing as Richie plays with Stan's hair. They hold hands for a really long time and they kiss for a really long time and they feel at ease with just the two of them and the thought of running away always resurfaces but they don't speak it or aknowledge it because it's an impossible thought.

Making love for them was something so very special and beautiful and they treated it as such each time they did it. Richie was gentle with Stan and Stan would alway get lost in everything Richie was and he'd lose himself for a while. Richie held Stan like he was holding something fragile and precious and he'd always kiss stan's eyelids if his eyes were closed. Stan loved feeling Richie's hair between his fingers in one hand and Richie's fingers between his own in his other hand. Everything was gentle and soft and other-wordly and with every touch and kiss, it felt like the universe starting all over again. Stan loved feeling like he was in the sky with the stars and Richie loved feeling like was underwater with the sunlight burning through.

Richie loved seeing Stan smiled because it made him feel like everything was going to be okay. He'd feel his heartbeat pick up and his stomach feel all warm and fuzzy and he'd feel the ultimate urge to just kiss Stanley Uris. His smile was that powerful. And when they were together, that's all Stan could do was smile. Because Richie Tozier made him feel so fucking happy and grateful and lucky and everything good in the world.

They needed each other.

And they were meant for each other.

Opposites indeed do attract.

tagging: @t-rash-m-outh @whipashwhipash @stanleyurisisalive @richie-n-eds

@king-wheezy-trash @trashmoutheds @spicyymoon--lovve @trxshmouth-t0zier @eddie-kaspjack @eddiekaspbraklives

#it #the losers club #stozier #stanley uris #richie tozier #mike hanlon #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #eddie kaspbrak #bill denbrough

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