rwprincess - Tumblr blog

rwprincess · 9 months

Text

So cute! 😭

But also? "wobbling like a cardboard house in a hurricane" love this simile, babes.

𝐚 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐝 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

eddie fights to get his usually shy and moderately intoxicated girlfriend to bed when you insist on clinging to him at every turn. requested here. fem!reader, 2.5k.

cw intoxicated reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You're holding onto Eddie's arm tight enough to leave little fingerprint bruises behind. He doesn't think he'd mind, and he doesn't try to slacken your grip as he helps you up the stairs into the trailer.

"Do we have to be quiet?" you whisper. Or, attempt to whisper.

"Nah, Wayne's working." He closes the door behind you and leans over your shoulder to put his car keys in the bowl on the sideboard. "Oh, hey."

You've given up on clinging to his arm and have started cuddling his waist instead. Eddie feels his eyes go wide, peering down at you almost like he's worried you'll realise you're being bold and move away. You rub your cheek against his leather jacket and sigh. "I love your hugs," you say dreamily, words slurred but understandable.

This isn't news to him, but it's definitely nothing you've said aloud before. Eddie's your boyfriend, he knows you enjoy a warm hug, but he's your new-ish boyfriend, and you're one of the shyest people he's ever met. Half the time he kisses you and your cheeks catch fire.

"Yeah?" he asks fondly.

You break the hug quicker than he'd like and bend at the waist. Laughing unsurely, you attempt to untie your shoelaces, wobbling like a cardboard house in a hurricane. Eddie catches onto your shoulders to hold you up, but you can't last.

You make a strange sound, indignation and admission at once, and put your hands behind you to sit down. You go down hard enough to make the kitchenette shake, trailer walls not especially durable.

"Shit, are you okay?" he asks, kneeling down in front of you.

You blink at him glassily. "Will you take my shoes off, please?"

"Yeah," he says. He laughs and tries not to. "Yeah, I'll take your shoes off for you. Pass em over."

You put one of your feet on top of his knees clumsily. Eddie unties the bunny knots you'd made earlier, neat and tidy, not wanting anyone to judge you for messy laces, you'd said.

He slides your shoes off and gives your toes a squeeze. Sober you would blow a gasket, shuffling away from him with a flustered squeak, but drunk you must like it. You leave your foot on his thigh and offer him the other shoe.

"Do you like my socks?"

Eddie digs his nail into the second bunny knot. "I love them. Why, are they new?"

Your socks are normal white crew socks with a black hem stripe, black toes, and black heels. You hum at his observation appreciatively, your hand straying to your stomach. "And my underwear, too."

"How much did you have to drink while I was in the bathroom?" he asks. Eddie's seen you in your underwear, but it's still unlike you to allude to your skivvies while fully dressed.

"Not much. Why?"

"It's not like you to talk about underwear," he tells you, sliding off your shoe and giving your foot a squeeze just as he had the first time, thumb digging into the sole.

You giggle and yank your legs up and away from him. "That tickles."

"Sorry, sweetheart."

"It's okay. I forgive you, duh."

He laughs, thrilled to see you this adorable and this beamingly happy. He can make you smile like no one else, and of course you're not always shy when you're with him, but it takes time. Eddie wouldn't change you for anything, it's just a real nice thing to see you so proudly happy.

And hopelessly drunk. You lay on the floor of your side for a moment, jeans riding up your calves as you curl in on yourself, your jacket falling off your shoulder.

Eddie crawls to your side. He indulges himself, sliding his hand between your cheek and the floor to lift your head. You meet his eyes dozily, sparks of happiness to be seen in your dilated pupils and the apples of your cheeks as you smile at him.

"Are you feeling okay?" he asks.

"You–" you begin, not sure where you're ending, "I missed you."

"You missed me?" You're loaded. "Don't worry about missing me, sweetheart, I'm right here. Can I ask you for something?"

You nod hurriedly. "Of course you can," you breathe.

"Will you help me get to bed?"

You reach for his elbow, your hand coasting up the length of his arm to his shoulder. "Stay here," you say. You're pleading with him, eyebrows drawing together, fingers screwing up in the folds of his jacket.

"You'll be comfier on my lumpy mattress than you are on the floor, trust me."

"I'm tired," you say.

"Come to bed with me," he says softly, mirroring your tone.

"And we'll have a hug?"

Holy fucking shit, Eddie's fucked. He thinks, I'm gonna marry this girl, cheeks aching with the effort it takes to keep his huge smile at bay as he helps you sit up.

"I'll give you as many hugs as you want," he says, brokering a deal with you right there on the floor.

You agree to his terms, holding your hands out to be pulled up. Eddie stands and pulls you, and you do your part, attempting to stand with a wobble as you go, but he's right there to catch you. Thus begins another round of clinging, your fingers braceleting his wrist, your hips on his.

Eddie leads you down the hallway. It takes longer than it should, what with your face in his neck and your less than subtle sniffing. He smells better than you do, your shirt soaked with what could be craft beer but might just be a half a cup of cider, neither of which he pictures you drinking.

"Who tipped their drink on?" he asks, pushing the bedroom door open with his elbow.

"What?" you ask, lifting your head from his neck. He looks down at you briefly.

"What happened? You have beer all down your shirt, babe. Did someone tip their drink on you?"

"Robin did, she said to tell you it was Steve." You raise a hand to his cheek. It's cold, and it smells like your moisturiser. "But I don't keep secrets from you."

He doesn't mean to melt under your touch. He has things he should be doing, depositing you in the bed, changing your shirt, tucking you in for the night with a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol for your perusal in the morning, but it's a startling delight to have you stroking his cheek. You usually only do this when he's half asleep or you're very tired; hoping he'll forget, maybe, and forgetting your own inhibitions.

"You don't?" he asks gently.

Your fingertips slip from the soft part of his cheek up to his eyelashes. You don't touch them, breathing out the side of your mouth rather than in his face. Drunk but not enough to stop treating him with care.

"No… except for last Friday when we went to the Hawk. I really did need to use the bathroom."

Well, Eddie knew that. You're shy, that doesn't make you a good actress. "And now we have no secrets," he says, covering your hand on his cheek.

Your eyes slip closed a touch. Eddie doesn't really believe himself, he's sure there's lots of stuff you don't tell him. He guesses when you need something to drink because you hate asking, and he can't work out whether you like hotdogs or if you're just humouring him when he makes them, but he thinks any secret worth having is one you've let him in on.

He puts you on the end of the bed.

"Can I help you get changed?" he asks, already turning for the wardrobe where he keeps your left behind pyjamas and miscellaneous clothes, washed and pressed and waiting for you the next time you come around.

"You haven't asked if you can undress me in ages."

He laughs like an idiot, scooping an oversized t-shirt and a pair of your pyjama pants into his arms. "Now, that's not true. I always ask, but half the time you're already getting there." He turns to you, finds you've disappeared into your shirt, elbow twisted into the bottom and arms slack. "Like that," he laughs.

"Stuck," you mumble.

He chucks your pyjamas down and slips his fingers under your shirt where it's folded at the top of your shoulders. "Lift your arms, sweetheart. There you go."

He laughs again when he sees your rumpled hair and face, dropping your acidic smelling shirt on the floor. "There she is. Hey, gorgeous," Eddie teases, running the side of his hand down your cheek quickly. "Bra on or off?"

"Can I have my shirt first, please?" you ask.

He loves you. Your shyness creeping back in despite his having seen it all before is endearing, and he wouldn't ever say no to you. "Of course you can. Do you need my help again?"

"I think this part will be easier."

You're right about that. You get your shirt on easily enough, unclipping your bra without help. Nor do you need help with your pants.

Eddie strips off quickly, swapping jeans for plaid pants and his t-shirt for a ribbed undershirt. He stretches out day long aches and kicks aside your dirty clothes on his way to the light switch, flicking it off, only his lamp left on now.

You look lovely. Makeup smudged, watching him move around his small room with your face propped heavily in your hand, a practically cherubic smile playing on your lips.

He pulls back the sheets and grabs you by the waist, lifting you very slightly to encourage you up against the pillows. You look at him like he's a wonder, adoration softening each line of your features. Your lips part slightly, your eyebrows rise upward.

He thinks it might be really special, to be looked at as you look at him.

"Let me get you a glass of water," he says.

Neither of you have managed to brush your teeth. Honestly, he doesn't think you can stand up any more to try. Water will have to do.

"No!" you say, louder than you've likely ever spoken to him when he isn't tickling you. "You said we'd hug."

"We will," he says, giving your hand a little shake where it clings to his.

"Please, Eddie, I just want to cuddle with you," you confess, giving him the best case of the puppy dogs he's ever seen.

Eddie thinks, Whatever, we'll just have to make sure we brush extra hard in the morning. He can't deny you any longer. He didn't stand a chance.

He climbs over your legs and you tuck him in affectionately, ramming your forehead into his chest and throwing your arm around his waist with less care. You nuzzle in, a satisfied sigh leaving your lips as you get comfortable.

"This is so nice," you praise, words sluggish, slurred even more than they were as fatigue weighs you down.

"This is perfect," he agrees, easing as flat as he can onto his back, nothing for his arms to do now but wrap around you and hold you close.

You sigh again. It's even happier than the first, your leg creeping up as you hook your knee over his hip. "I love you, Munson. Thanks for…" You yawn and rub your nose into his chest. "Thank you. I love you."

"You told me twice," he says, lifting his head to give you a teeny tiny kiss on your temple.

"It was true for both of the times," you mumble.

Despite relaxing atop him, your arms are like a vice. He doesn't care, he really couldn't care less, 'cos if you weren't hugging him like this he'd be hugging you tighter. Eddie speaks against your skin tenderly, "I love you, too," he murmurs, sealing it with a punctuating kiss.

He rubs your shoulder, feels your arms give him one final squeeze.

"Is now a bad time to mention I need the bathroom?" he asks.

Your answering snore tickles his chest.

—

"Eddie."

Eddie scrunches his face up. You look down at him, flustered, wondering if it would be better for you to run out on him and never see him again. He groans as he wakes, turning his head and distorting the stain of your lipgloss smudged the length of his neck.

You nibble the inside of your lip. He doesn't seem particularly annoyed with you. But he is mostly asleep.

"Eddie, how did we get home last night?" you ask, rubbing between your eyebrows. "You didn't drive, did you?"

He'd had two beers, which wasn't too much for him to handle but is more than anyone should have if they want to drive themselves home.

Eddie peels his eyes open. "Steve drove us."

"Oh. I'm sorry, I'm super embarrassed. I got kinda wasted, huh?"

Eddie's hands slip under your shirt to wrap around your soft stomach. He pulls you in an attempt to make you lay down again.

"You were very drunk," he agrees, yawning into your ribs.

You put your hand on the other side of his head to hold yourself up. "Was I a handful?" you ask softly, brushing his bangs away from his eyes.

He smiles against your shirt. You feel the curve of his lips, goosebumps erupting underneath it. Shy, you gasp quietly and try to escape his hold, but he hugs you ever tighter, snuggling into your chest.

"You were great. I missed sober you, though."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Drunk you doesn't get goosebumps when I touch her." Smugness colours his voice, his hand rubbing up and down your naked back roughly to chase away your shivers.

"I wasn't weird, was I?" you worry, more than alarmed by the gap in your memory.

"You told me all about your new underwear," —you groan— "and how badly you needed to pee at the Hawk."

You drop your head on to his, your foreheads touching, your hand curling around his neck. "Did I do anything vaguely in the land of acceptable behaviour?" you mumble in defeat.

"You told me you loved me. Multiple times. Once in your sleep." Eddie sounds delighted.

"That's unfontunately true," you grumble, not really meaning it.

He laughs and gives you a firm tug. "Cuddle with me, babe."

You cuddle him if only to hide your face from the world, face in his hair, hands under his back. Eddie draws a path of fondness up and down the dip of your back, laughing at each new crop of goosebumps as they rise. He's sweet enough to let you forget the mess you've made for at least a few stolen hours that morning.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed, please reblog if you have the time it makes a huge difference for me ♡

5K notes · View notes

rwprincess · 9 months

Text

Gender status: sick 🤣

yeah im “transitioning” *dissolves into tiny pieces as i click to the next slide*

168K notes · View notes

rwprincess · 10 months

Text

Teenage Dirtbag (Robin Buckley x Reader)

Masterlist

Word Count: 3.3K

Synopsis: Reader is hopelessly pining for Robin, even though she knows the girl is out of her league and hardly knows who she is…and that she’s already dating King Harrington…right?

Honestly, this song originally struck me as being for EddiexReader. But I love PostModern Jukebox (ft Jax)’s take on it and was like “what if it was wlw for ROBIN?!” and here we are. Happy Pride, mfers.

CW: Self-doubt and loathing; reader being a useless-sapphic ™; homophobia common of the 80s; unfair stereotypes to ‘freaks’; Minor Steddie if you squint; song lyrics mention a gun and ass-kicking; swears; jealousy of Steve (we’re pretty mean to him here)/mistaken identity; also, we’re tweaking canon because Eddie lives. Fight me.

She radiated beauty and light, and while you hadn’t had more than a minute-long conversation with her, you could tell that she was intelligent and that her soul was deep. Robin Buckley was the coolest girl you’d ever laid eyes on. Even in that dorky band uniform with the oversized hat and bobbing feather, chin-strap snugly tucked underneath her beautiful face. Luckily for you, she was out of uniform today and you drank in her long, thin frame, adorned with a striped t-shirt, and a skirt…but most importantly her legs were being caressed by knee-high tube socks. The stark yellow stripe drawing attention to her taut calf muscle as she walked down the hallway, carefree and angelic. Somehow, the buzzing fluorescence of the lights in this shitty hallway took on a heavenly light when they met her skin. You sighed in both admiration and frustration. There she was treading so perfectly and she hardly knew you existed.

Her name is Noelle

I have a dream about her

She rings my bell

I got gym class in half an hour

Oh, how she rocks

In Keds and tube socks

You leaned against your locker, biting your lip in silent longing. You weren’t in her league; you weren’t sure you were even in the same species. She was somewhere between a nerd and a prep, and you were a certifiable freak. Besides the homosexual tendencies you were harboring that would make you a pariah in this town if you were found out, you generally were clad in black and heavy makeup, looking like a walking The Cure album, a poster-child for loneliness and therapy, surrounding yourself with other freaks, most notably your best friend, Eddie Munson. You were no stranger to being called a ‘demon’ or having wild accusations thrown your way. No wonder Robin’s gaze never turned to you. While you loved your friends and relished your lowkey lifestyle, particularly because it made you feel comfortable with who you really were, you still lamented that that meant you were invisible to the most beautiful, captivating eyes you had ever seen.

“C’mon, band geeks aren’t that far from D&D dorks,” Eddie tried to cheer you up, putting an optimistic spin on it, like he always did. You wondered how someone with so much pain and darkness in their life could be so light. He was always smiling and had a way about him that made everyone want to bare their souls to him. He put out beams of trustworthiness and others gravitated toward it. You yourself had been sucked into that unrelenting positivity. He was one of the limited few who really knew you, and one that you had confided in about your sexuality, and eventually your ridiculous crush on Robin.

“It’s very different, Eddie,” you admonished him. How could he not know how the rest of the school saw you? “They all think we’re devil worshipers and shit and she just like, plays the trumpet,” you shrugged. “It’s totally not the same. Even if they get made fun of, we are not on the same level.”

“Maybe they just don’t know how dumb and nerdy our club is. Maybe she doesn’t know and you should introduce her to the fine world of Dungeons and Dragons,” he smirked and you rolled your eyes at him, black lids almost sticking to your brows at the effort.

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say, Ed,” you replied in a dismissive tone.

“Ya know, I heard she got a job at Scoops Ahoy…” his grin grew larger at his implication.

You acted unfazed by this information, but soon you went there consistently and not-so-innocently to indulge your sweet tooth, but the only sweet you were really gorging yourself on was Robin. You teetered between feeling guilty for going to sneak looks at her in her adorable, short uniform…and wholly enjoying it.

You never really struck up a conversation. You’d just place your order and sit in a booth, nursing the dairy dessert as slowly as possible to get your fill of Robin in a sailor hat, eyeliner thickly applied and pink lips parted in a rehearsed sales monologue or talking to herself. Good thing you had the ice cream to tamp down the burning you felt in your stomach and your cheeks whenever you looked up at her, averting your gaze if she so much as twitched in your direction.

But she doesn't know who I am

And she doesn't give a damn about me

'Cause I'm just a teenage dirtbag, baby

Yeah, I'm just a teenage dirtbag, baby

Listen to Iron Maiden maybe with me

And then one day, Steve fuckin’ Harrington had to ruin your reverent ritual. It startled you the first time he was behind the counter instead of Robin, as if you’d walked into the wrong store. It felt so…unnatural. Steve lived down the street from you and had been an entitled dickweed ever since you were young. You were always more of an introvert and liked reading or drawing on your driveway with chalk when you were little, whereas Steve was a stereotypical rough-and-tumble boy, throwing his football into your lawn to disrupt you, or climbing trees and yelling loudly. He always reeked of desperation for attention, while you opposed having the spotlight on you. High school had only widened the gap between you two, as he fell in with the popular crowd and ruled the school. On a good day, you were invisible to him and his cohorts. On a bad day, you were a target of their slurs and slander and Steve dove right in to join them. You’d hear him mutter about how unfortunate it was to live near you, like he’d catch your cooties…or you’d put a witchy hex on him.

Her boyfriend's a dick

And he brings a gun to school

And he'd simply kick

My ass if he knew the truth

He lives on my block

And he drives an IROC

You couldn’t walk into your house without being reminded of his existence, and your one respite of Scoops Ahoy was now tainted with his god awful Farrah Fawcet hair spray and cocky demeanor. Even worse, he now created a barrier between you and Robin. You were no longer guaranteed to talk to her. Especially when Steve tried to butt-in to take your order.

It was obvious he liked her, too. He would be a fool not to, sure. You couldn’t imagine anyone not being drawn into Robin and her dark, reflective eyes or her goofy smile. But you caught Steve blatantly checking her out, and more than once. You knew you had no claim to her, and were probably hoping against all hope to be with her one day, but it still irked you. Particularly because he didn’t have eyes just for her. He seemed to hit on every girl who breezed through the ice cream parlor, even though he struck out time and time again, looking like the biggest dork in that uniform, showing everybody that he truly peaked in high school now that he had graduated and was not having a glamorous jet-setting summer like his ilk. He didn’t deserve Robin as it was, but especially when he couldn’t put her first. She was your only crush and had been for some time.

“What can I do for you?” He had the nerve to ask and grin blankly at you, nothing going on behind his eyes. ‘You could back off of Robin and take your douchey self out of here--’ you began to think snidely, biting the inside of your cheek so as not to let the words slip out. Luckily, it created a clever disguise, looking as though you were just debating what you wanted.

“Uh, I guess strawberry today.”

“Would you like some sprinkles? They’re on the house.” He winked and you tried to hide your gagging revulsion. Customer-service Steve was totally fake and he acted as if he didn’t have a distaste for you his entire life. ‘What could Robin ever see in someone like him?’ you thought. But truth-be-told, most girls your age tended to fawn over Steve and he could give her something you never could: a normal life.

But he doesn't know who I am

And he doesn't give a damn about me

The mall fire marked a sort of beginning-of-the-end in Hawkins. Starcourt was the one hip thing about the town, the one thing to do. And now that had all been scrapped. Rightfully so, as it seemed macabre to just go on with it as if nothing ever happened there. People died, the town had to even elect a new chief of police because he had perished as well. But it left you in a lurch regarding activities you could do, especially on your own…and particularly to have access to Robin. Now, you didn’t know where she worked and you certainly couldn’t ask her. It would give off stalker vibes in waves if you approached and said, “hey, I miss watching you at your work all the time, mind telling me where I can find you now?”

Even worse, she seemed to be closer with Steve. The rumor mill didn’t explicitly say they were dating, but you assumed they were. It was a small town and you’d see them together frequently. Steve even dropped her off at school most mornings, which seemed to you like something couples would do. It completely dashed your hopes that this would be like a Hollywood fairy tale and you’d get the girl in the final act. Time was running out, as it was your last year at Hawkins High, and quite possibly the last stretch of time you’d ever see Robin Buckley. Then, the unthinkable happened when Eddie betrayed you and became cozy with Steve after Spring Break in your Senior year. "I can't believe you're actually hanging out with--no, that you're friends with that douchebag, now." It was a charming little development that Eddie had been spending time with Steve.

“He’s not really that bad. I know, I know,” he responded immediately to your huff and look of disgusted disbelief, “A month ago I would have dropped dead before I would have said something like that, but it’s the truth, Y/N. He’s changed a lot since he was in school. He’s actually a pretty cool dude.” You may have been a little over-dramatic with your resulting retching, as Eddie asked, “What’s your deal with him, anyway?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’s my deal?’ Like you said, a month ago, you would have been calling him a douchebag right along with me! What’s your deal?” You didn’t give him time to respond and jumped right into your tirade instead, “First of all, in case you’ve forgotten, he hates us. Or at least, hates me still, since you’re all chummy now, apparently. He has made fun of me his whole life and uses it as fodder to yuck it up with his friends.

“‘Fodder,’ nice word choice,” Eddie smirked, eyes gleaming. He was clearly amused watching you get riled up over this, but you didn’t let that stop you.

“He’s so vapid and shallow. I’m pretty sure all of those hairspray fumes fried his few functioning brain cells. He pants after every girl he lays eyes on, like a dopey dog but without the loyalty. The most frustrating and asinine part of that aspect of him is that he does it with Robin! I’ve seen him drool over her and then turn around to immediately follow some other girl, but he--he still gets to drive her to school every day and talk to her and…I can’t,” you squeaked out the last two words, the realization crashing down on you: you hated Steve most because you were jealous.

'Cause I'm just a teenage dirtbag, baby

Yeah, I'm just a teenage dirtbag, baby

Listen to Iron Maiden maybe with me

Oh, yeah, dirtbag, no, she doesn't know what she's missin'

"Oh, trust me, she and little Stevie are just friends." He waggled his eyebrows and you stared at him in confusion.

“Wh-what? How? They’re like, always together, and--and. Did he tell you this because you’re best buddies now, or what?” You were flustered and were sure you weren’t making any sense, but Eddie just smiled in a smug way. He was hiding a secret, but you didn’t dig further right now. You had no idea what he meant, how he knew, but this revelation was a breath of fresh air: your spirit renewed.

Spring and the school year were quickly coming to a close. While you wouldn’t consider yourself one for tradition, nor attending events with people, Eddie convinced you to partake some of the normal teenage activities. “You’re only going to be a senior once, Y/N,” he goaded you.

“This is your third senior year,” you reminded him with a deadpan expression and tone.

“I know. I said you’re only going to be a senior once. You.” He gave you a playful smile in return, “And hey, life is short and not always guaranteed.” The smile faltered a bit, and you could tell he was remembering Chrissy’s death, all of the deaths that occurred over Spring Break. You couldn’t really argue with Eddie when he was being serious for once in his life. He blinked the memory away and put on a cheerful facade again, “Hopefully, this will be my last senior year, too, so we have to make it a momentous occasion. You should go to prom with me.”

“Oh Eddie, I thought you’d never ask,” you put your hand over your heart sarcastically as you replied to him in a monotone voice, “how romantic.”

“Oh God, stop. That’s embarrassing for the both of us,” he joked. “What I mean is, we should both go to prom. Make the memory, all that jazz. I think you’ll be…pleasantly surprised.” You were used to his theatrical pauses by now, but it sounded like he was up to something. Eddie wouldn’t be Eddie without hatching a plan or scheme, but you agreed anyway.

“This is the most conformist thing I have ever done,” you greeted Eddie at your door, “I hate it.”

“It’s just a dress, Y/N. It isn’t the end of the world,” he cleared his throat to hide his laugh, but you caught it anyway and shoved him out of your doorway.

“This was all your idea, Munson. I will never let you forget that.”

At first, it wasn’t all that bad. Some of the music wasn’t totally abhorrent and Eddie was making your group laugh, dancing and miming his way through various activities. But the fun was cut short when Eddie’s other group of friends came in. You felt betrayed as Eddie brought Steve back to the gym that he once owned. Amongst this new group was of course, Robin. Your cheeks flared and your heart raced at the sight of her. She was always beautiful, but tonight she had a touch of glamor, wearing a knee-length green dress. However, that happiness was also fleeting. Eddie took off with their group and had them laughing and dancing, and you even saw him twirl Robin around. You sat and sulked in the bleachers, meaning you missed Eddie pointing you out to her.

Man, I feel like mold

It's prom night and I am lonely

Your elbows were propped against your knees and your hands cradled your face as you stared down at the floor. This could have been a great night, a fun night. But you just weren’t cut out for that typical teenage fun. Perhaps it wouldn’t sting so much if you had chosen to stay home rather than put yourself out there; if you weren’t dragged here only to be ditched by Eddie. But him choosing Steve and his group only solidified the feeling that burned deep within you: you didn’t fit in. Anywhere.

You glanced up, hoping that maybe Eddie had noticed your absence from the dance floor and would take pity on you. However, you saw Robin walking unsteadily in your direction instead. It wasn’t a too-much-spiked-punch walk. It was more hesitant, methodical. The changing lights cascaded across her hair and skin, making her seem even more unreal. As she drew nearer, you gained more of an appreciation for her dressed-up look. The makeup highlighted her cheekbones and lips; the way the dress hugged her waist and the length of it emphasized her legs. You smiled softly when you noticed that she was still wearing sneakers, though. That was much more like the Robin you knew.

“Is this seat taken?” She was standing directly in front of you, but you weren’t completely sure she was talking to you. You looked to your left, then to your right, confirming that you were alone. You nodded, automatically, but were still in disbelief. You’d hardly exchanged words that weren’t related to ice cream before.

Lo and behold

She's walking over to me

This must be fake

My lip starts to shake

How does she know who I am?

And why does she give a damn about me

“Eddie’s told me all about you. Well, everything I didn’t already know,” she said, effortlessly flashing you that radiant smile. You were glad to be sitting down already as your knees began to quake.

“Is that right?” You asked nervously, throat suddenly becoming dry. Your eyes flicked across the room towards Eddie. You discovered him watching you intently and when you made eye contact, he gave you an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

“Mm-hmm. He said you were the coolest girl he’s ever met. But I already guessed that. I mean, I thought that. I mean---well, and he said you’re his best friend.” She quickly tacked on the change in subject, but your heart hammered in your chest. Robin thinks you’re cool? Wait, Robin knows who you are and thinks about you? Your mind was racing.

“He, he is. I mean, I am. His best friend. And he’s mine. He’s a good guy.”

“Oh yeah, he’s totally great!” She rushed out, flustered. “He uh…he said that you were maybe, like…like me, too?” She looked at you with meaningful implication. Oh, shit. Did she just--is she saying she’s gay, too? It was a hopeful thought, but you were sure you were misreading it, and it’s not like you could just ask her for clarification. Not on this topic.

When you didn’t give a definitive answer (truthfully, you probably looked more deer-in-the-headlights confused instead), Robin continued, “Anyway, uh, I’d like to get to know you better and Eddie said you liked Iron Maiden?” You nodded numbly in response to this and she reached into her small purse, “Well, I’ve got two tickets, would you maybe like to go? With me?”

“I--yeah, of course! I’d love to go with you, Robin!�� You blurted out, not wanting the opportunity to pass you by. Like Eddie said, life is short and you only get this one go-around. “I’d like to get to know you better, too. I think maybe we are a lot alike,” you replied, giving her a similar knowing look before you both broke out in smiles, grinning like lunatics.

I've got two tickets to Iron Maiden, baby

Come with me Friday, don't say "maybe"

I'm just a teenage dirtbag, baby, like you

#robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #stranger things 4 #stranger things fluff #stranger things robin #stranger things robin x reader #gay #gay pride #even though there's like two days left #take your time #lesbian!#sapphic #useless sapphic #tm

67 notes · View notes

rwprincess · 11 months

Text

I didn't come here to feel all these FEELINGS! Jesus Christ!

perfect.

richie tozier x reader

“She was perfect?” Alex asked, obviously surprised that the motormouthed boy had experienced true heartbreak, let alone true love.

Alex had been Richie’s friend for years now, they had met sometime in college, and all this time Alex had just assumed the string of girls passing through Richie’s life had been due to the unbearable annoyance his friend tended to be.

Never once had he suspected his friend to be a heartbroken emotionally unavailable loser, who hadn’t been able to keep down a sturdy relationship since this mystery girl ripped his heart out.

“No no, of course not.” Richie scoffed, his smoke blowing out of his nose alongside his mouth as he remembered the whirlwind in which y/n actually was.

“She was a complete and utter mess.” He chuckled lowly as he stared down at the burning bud etched between his index and middle finger, the same bittersweet feeling eating at his stomach, making it feel like he was falling.

y/n had always hated when he smoked. But I guess that didn’t matter much anymore.

“She was beautiful.” Richie whispered

“So a beautiful mess?” His friend mocked his words, deeming them too cliche to be coming out of the Richie Tozier’s mouth.

“My beautiful mess.” Richie smiled wearily as he replied, it was true, she was his, at least she still was in Richies mind.

He had tried so damn hard, fought so hard for her but there was nothing he could do to stop her from leaving,

After all,

it wasn’t her fault she died.

512 notes · View notes

rwprincess · 11 months

Text

This is too cute and needs more notes!!!

But I Do

Richie Tozier x Fem! Denbrough! Reader

Song Fic -Begin Again (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift

Sequel to Just Between Us

CW: Alchol/drinking mention, Bitter ex boyfriend, Siblings arguing, Richie and Bill arguing, small age gap, fluff, language, s*x jokes but not smut, he might be a little ooc but they are baby

Word Count: 8.3K

Turn the lock and put my headphones on He always said he didn't get this song

(Y/n)'s headphones were tight on her head from the moment she left her house. Of course she knew that baseball season had to start eventually but that didn't mean she was ready to be there. The girl loved her older brother, if she were to be completely honest with you he was her favorite sibling. But that didn't mean she was happy to watch er ex play his new girl cheering him on from the stands. His jersey number painted on her cheek where (Y/n) wished it was on hers. She was over him, at least she thought so, but the bitter knowledge that she was never going to be what he truly wanted still sat on her mind. Bill knew that too, offering her an out that she was honestly grateful for, but she felt too guilty taking it. So there she was listening to a mixtape that Angel had made for her as a birthday present. Her radio favorites playing over her ears to distract her from the way the crowd cheered them on, but eve then, the tape had it's own reminders.

She pulls them off for the first time since her arrival as she neared the concessions stand. Ordering a sprite which was promptly placed into her hand, bottle dripping from the cooler, as she handed them the cash for it. She stopped at the other window, grabbing napkins to dry the bottle and her own hands. And before she could the task finished to return to the bubble her headphones provided, she heard her name being called. She thought she imagined it at first before the second call. Turning on her heel to see none other than Richie Tozier who was holding a bright red can and giving her that smile she'd known her whole life. They hadn't talked since before her birthday, and hadn't seen each other since the day of it, though they all knew the day hadn't gone to plan. That was three months ago at this point, and sure she'd wave if the losers were near by, but outside of Bev and Mike, (Y/n) made sure to stay clear of Bill's friends. Maybe it was cruel but she could find it in her to blame Richie and Eddie for her birthday drama, even if Richie did attempt to apologize. But it somehow made her feel better to blame them just as much as she blamed Stan. It should be all on Stanley, she knew that, but to have someone to blame made her feel better.

"Richie, hey," she forces the smile, knowing he was too close to her for her to get out of this. "God, Denbrough, where have you been? I haven't seen you in forever," he wraps an arm around her and she can't stop herself from leaning into his touch. It's not like Richie was ever as close to her as Stan used to be, but she'd be a liar if she said that Richie didn't feel safe. It made that guilt of ignoring him bubble to the surface. He was a forgetful guy, maybe he just genuinely forgot her sixteenth. And he came over to apologize on her actual birthday, spending damn near the whole day with her, that's something Stan couldn't say. Maybe she could recognize that she was the bad guy there. Or maybe se was blinded by home much she'd missed the smell of his cologne and the way he ruffled her hair as he walked past her. She couldn't tell you which it was if she tried.

"Yeah, yeah, it's been a while. I was just trying to give the losers space I guess, you know after everything. I just didn't want to strain the group anymore than I already did." He scoffs shaking his head, "You didn't strain it, Stan did. You here alone or did you finally drag Angel to a game?" She shakes her head, nervously sipping her drink before she could respond. "Neither, I'm here with Georgie and our parents. Gotta cheer Bill on, you know." He nods, arm still around her shoulder as if she'd float away when he moved, "Well, then I think you should come join the club. We do miss you, Dollface, you have to know that somewhere in that stone little heart of yours." She ignores the nickname, nodding softly as she closes the bottle she's holding, "Yeah, I need to go ask my parents though, they've been weird about things since, well you know."

He didn't leave the younger girl's side as they made their way to the bleachers where her parents were sitting. Not even allowing his arm to fall from her as they made their way up the bleachers. And (Y/n) may have forgotten that he did it but her parents sure noticed it. "Hey, Richie asked if I could join him and Bill's other friends. Is that okay?" They both caught it as Mrs. Denbrough looked past the duo to nervously eye the field. "Please Mrs. Denbrough, your son has been hiding her from us for months and Eddie and I are really starting to miss her." (Y/n) catches out of the corner of her eye how Richie bats his lashes, earning him an elbow to the ribs. "Well I don't know," she starts, looking over the way that yet another of her son's friends was hanging onto her daughter. "Please Ma'am? Don't tell Bill but we kinda like her more than him." She opens her mouth to respond and (Y/n) can almost feel herself deflate as she waits for the no to escape her mom's lips. She didn't realize how much she missed the losers until she realized that ignoring them may not be her choice anymore.

"Mommy," Georgie cuts in, once again attempting to be his sister's saving grace, "He's on the field with Bill, let her go see Bev and Richie." The older woman sighs, looking up to Richie, "Beverly is there?" "Yes Ma'am," he doesn't miss a beat, obviously looking more hopeful. "Then you can go, but stay with Beverly." She didn't expect to smile so wide as she turned to look at Richie whose face just mimicked hers. "Let's go, Denbrough!" She laughs, calling a "thank you" to her mom and mouthing one to her little brother. Who both send her a smile in response as they watch her make her way down the bleachers, Richie now trailing closely behind. "So, Dollface," his voice picks back up as they walk away from her family, "There's no ignoring me now. So how have you been?" She shakes her head, "The real question is, why were you just flirting with my mom? Stan with me, Bev with Bill, you with my mom? You're all trying to get in with the Denbroughs huh? Is there a bet I wasn't told about?" He rolls his eyes, bothered by the way she doges the question, "Oh of course. Eds though, he's going for your dad, you better hide him." "I'll keep that in mind," she giggles, starting up the bleachers where she could see the familiar look of Bev and Mike.

"I'm serious, (Y/n), how are you?" Her lip finds it's way between her lips stopping momentarily as his arm finds it's way back around her. "I'm getting better, I think I'm finding my old self again." He smiles, reaching over to ruffle her hair, "Good, because I missed you." She smiles up at him, nearly to the top of the bleachers, "I missed you too, Tozier." "Of course you did, I'm obviously your favorite loser." "Well," she drags it out, "You're definitely a loser. My favorite though? That's Bev without a doubt. You're second out of my brother's friends though." "Second? You met me before Bev." "Yeah, and I met Eddie first, what's your point?" "Well duh Eddie isn't your favorite, but why is Bev the favorite?" "She never cut my hair while I was sleeping," the girl shrugs, going ahead as she catches Bev's attention. "That was one time twelve years ago, let it go!" "What was twelve years ago-Oh my God, (Y/n)! I didn't know you were here," Mike is out of his seat to hug her before she can even reach the redhead she was walking to. "I wouldn't miss one of Bill's games." Bev pulls her away from Mike and down into a seat beside her before the boy can respond. "Yeah she is, and she was telling me about how Bev is her favorite because you never cut her hair when she was four." Bev's nose scrunches up, "Who cut your hair when you were four?" She just a thumb in Richie's direction as he steals the last seat beside her. "Richie! And then he tried to blame it on me, can you believe that?" Eddie huffs, patting the younger girl's knee as a silent hello. "So you've always been you, huh Trashmouth?" "I think it's what makes him so comforting," (Y/n) laughs over to Bev. Letting a smile settle on her face as the senior rested her head on her shoulder. The girl barely felt the way her headphones slipped off her neck as Richie put them on. He pulls them around his own neck as he turns to her. "I love this song, I didn't realize you even knew James Taylor." She turns to him, hearing the chorus of "Her Town Too" playing softly from around Richie's neck. "Yeah, Dad got me into him. I love that song. It's just, relatable I guess." He nods, "Yeah, it's sorta comforting. I don't know, I know it's not meant for me, but," his words die off, looking into her eyes, the way the sparkled at his words. "Yeah, but I think if you can find comfort in it that's what matters. Art comforts the disturbed or whatever it is that Wiggins is always saying." She bites her lip, not that she notices. Too caught up in the differences between the two best friends that she would have never noticed. Stan hated that song, he said he just didn't get it. It got turned off every time it came on. Not Richie though, he was slipping it back over his ears with a soft wink, turning up the volume. And unknown to her, he noticed the way she bit her lip as if she feared she'd said something wrong. But then again he noticed a lot of things that she'd never know. Like the way she'd completely ignore the existence of the losers club if Stan was there, but if he wasn't she'd wave to them on her walk to the stairs. Or how she bought a new record every paycheck even though most people were into cassettes or CDs now. It was always at the music store he worked at, the only one in Derry, and she'd pretend she didn't see him, even if he knew she did. God was he glad she didn't do that this time. Richie missed her, with every fiber in his being he missed the presence of the girl. He knew he'd never fully get over the guilt of missing her sweet sixteen. But she was there now, and he could thank himself for that.

Soon enough he was slipping one ear out of her headphones, and the three got lost in their own conversation. Richie and Bev seeming to make it their mission to keep (Y/n) laughing, and she had to be honest, she couldn't remember the last time shed laughed that hard. They didn't even realize the game was over until Bill and Stan were standing over them. He felt bad, knowing he'd have to end the conversation. When was the last time he saw his sister seem this care free and happy? And with his friends no less.

Luckily he didn't have to though, (Y/n) seeming to sense him standing there. "Billy! Hey look who found me," she smiles, leaning over onto Richie as she takes her headphones back. Bill fights the questioning look he wants to send Richie, but from the way Richie looks past him and raises an eyebrow, Stan didn't seem to. "Thanks for keeping her company, guys. (Y/n), you ready?" She pouts slightly, something that the three seniors watching her didn't miss as she stood up. "Yeah, I'll see you guys around right?" Richie nods, grabbing her hand for a second, "Don't be a stranger, okay?" " Yeah," she nods making her way to Bill, "Promise." And with that, Bill wrapped an arm around his sister and decided to lead her away before anyone else could say something to her. And she was thankful for that as she passed Stan, nearly clinging to her brother in hopes it would make the other boy disappear. But she barely felt that sense of bitterness that she was used to when she passed him. And for the first time since New Years Day, he didn't try to talk to her. To (Y/n)'s surprise, the first game day of the season was the best one she's had in a while.

I walked in, expecting you'd be late But you got here early and you stand and wave

She didn't learn her lesson. At least that's what Beverly and her own friends told her when they found out her plans for today. She knows she should leave her brother's friends alone, but it's Richie. Got in a fight on the playground over her when they were little kids, Richie. And it's not like she was expecting much from it, just a few laughs over a milkshake. And he'd probably be late, Richie was always late, it made her question how he and Stan were best friends. Truly each other's opposite, then again she was always more like Richie anyhow.

The bell above the door was a comforting sound as she entered the diner. When was the last time she even came in here? January?

"Oh no, I'm actually waiting on someone. She's going to want to pick the table, you know how it is." The voice caught her off guard, seeing Richie stand near the counter, talking to who she swore was Stanley. "You sure that she didn't stand you up? I mean, you're always late and she's not here." It was definitely Stanley and it filled her with nerves. Would he tell Bill? Would he cause a scene? The last thing she wanted was to cause more problems for Bill. Richie seems to take Stan's words to heart, nervously looking around the room for (Y/n), "No, I actually made a point to be early. She's been through a lot in the past few- there she is. Hey, Dollface!" (Y/n) makes her way to his side, swallowing her nerves, "Hey, Rich."

She could see Stan's clenched jaw in the corner of her eye as Richie pulls her into a hug, she couldn't help but hug back. "You wanna pick out the table?" She pulls away, looking around the room for a table. She sees that the table by the jukebox was open, that was always her place with her friends. She nods to it, grabbing Richie's hand, "That one." "I should have known," he teases, walking with her to the little booth. Their hands fall from each other's taking seats across from each other. He was more nervous than she'd ever seen him. "Sorry by the way, I uh, I didn't know that Stan was working today. I would have picked somewhere else if-" "It's okay, Rich, really. We should just focus on us, yeah?" He nods, reaching for her hand across the table, "Yeah, so, do you wanna share a milkshake like a silly little couple in the fifties? It could be fun." She giggles, drawing circles on his hand, "Of course, not chocolate though." "Yeah, yeah, chocolate ice cream tastes like chemicals and not chocolate. Do you want fries?"

She nods, slightly shocked that he remembered something like that. When is the last time she said that? When she was twelve? "You want strawberry?" She nods, biting her lip as she looks at him. "Then I'll be right back, I'm going to order at the counter so we don't have to wait." "Yeah, that's cool," she nods, dropping the boy's hand to let him stand up. She didn't know where her new shift came from, she'd never felt that nervous around Richie, but then again she'd never seen him act like this around her either. And of course, she'd never been on a date with Richie before. And having Stan near them for it, maybe she was just scared that this would be the same way that they were. God, maybe her friends were right. She couldn't be the girl who got her heart broken by two of her brother's friends. How embarrassing is that?

"Yes Stan, one milkshake with two straws," Richie's voice is carrying through the room now, and he was obviously annoyed. She turns her head, attempting to catch more of the conversation. Stan's voice didn't carry the way Richie's did , but his jaw was still clenched and the corners of his eyes were wrinkling, staring the boy down. "We are on a date, yeah, is that not allowed?" She wraps her arms around herself as she catches Stan stealing glances of her. "Oh yeah? I'm sure your girlfriend would be so interested to know how upset you're getting about your ex dating again. Especially when you were the one who broke up with her over the phone." Things are obviously getting heated between the friends as (Y/n) decides to get up, finding her way behind Richie. Her arms find their way around his waist, head leaning against his back, "Everything okay, baby?" Her voice isn't as loud as Richie's but she can tell Stan can hear her. "Yep, everything is just fine. Your order will be out soon." "Yeah," he turns around in the girl's arms stroking her back, "Let's go sit back down, yeah?" Her arms fall from around him as she nods, letting him grab her hand. She intertwines their fingers, swinging their arms slightly as they walk to their seat. "I'm sorry," her voice is soft but he catches it. "You didn't do anything wrong." "But-" He shakes his head, "Not a damn thing."

Richie drops her hand for just long enough to sit down, taking it back over the table. "So, (Y/n), I have a question." She sends him a smirk, "You know how to form those? I thought they might be too hard for you." He scoffs, rolling his eyes at her, "Well if you're going to be mean I will keep it to myself." She finds herself rubbing his hand with her thumb again, "No, ask me. I was playing around." He tries to act annoyed but it broke as he smiles at her, "Well, I was wondering if any seniors, or juniors I guess, had asked you to prom?" It caught her off guard, why would he want to ask that? She hated to admit it but Richie was hot, most of her brother's friends had been treated well by puberty, but Richie, he could definitely get who ever he wanted. So why (Y/n)? "No, no one has. Why?" He smiles, looking down at the way her thumb was still moving on his hand before looking back up, "Would you want to go? Maybe with your favorite senior?" She tilts her head, giving him a soft smile, "Depends." "Depends on what?" He looked nervous and it made her smile. "Well, what would I have to do to get you into a purple tie?" He raises his eyebrows, making a face she knew all too well, "Well, I mean." Her nose scrunches, thumb stopping on his hand, "I take it back. I don't want to go if I have to do that." He laughs, thumb now gliding across her hand the way she'd done to him, "I'm kidding, Doll. I'll wear whatever color you'd ask of me." "Well then, I'd love to go." And he pumps a fist in the air laughing softly, "A win for Richard Tozier!" It drags a laugh out of her too, God Richie had missed that sound.

And you throw your head back laughing like a little kid

Mr. and Mrs. Denbrough had gotten used to Richie being at their house if Bill wasn't there. To say they were skeptical about how close their daughter was with the boy would be an understatement, but at the same time, the whole house expected this would happen eventually. And they were okay with it if it meant the house would stay the way it's been. (Y/n) and Richie were constantly laughing, the sound floating out of the living room or the girl's open bedroom door made the house feel alive in a way it hadn't been in months. The two just made sense Mr. Denbrough and Mr. Tozier used to joke about the two of them, but there at sixteen and eighteen, they weren't the little kids they were back then. But still, in ways they were. And everyone in both of there families knew, except for Bill. Even Beverly and Mike knew, but neither has found it in them to tell him. Not that they didn't want him to know, they just wanted to be sure they would actually be something before Bill found out.

But there they were, stretched out across the Denbrough couch, a sitcom rerun playing on the TV as they were wrapped up with each other. (Y/n)'s legs in Richie's lap as her back leans on the armrest. A large hand rests on her knee, rubbing circles on the side of her leg with his thumb while Bill was out at practice. The two and Georgie being the only ones in the house, the younger sitting in their dad's Lazyboy, doing his homework as he watches the show before him. But (Y/n) is too busy watching her boyfriend to pay attention to the show she'd normally watch with her brother. Watching the way that her boyfriend's head falls back onto the back of the couch laughter spilling out of his lips. And she can't help bit wonder if relationships are supposed to feel as easy as she and Richie feel. Did he know how nice it felt to know that he found her funny? Would she ever tell him? Maybe that could be her own little secret, how good she felt when he laughed.

"Rich, it's so not that funny. Should could have, like, I don't know, died or something!" She's laughing too but it's really not that funny. "From paint, Doll?" "The bucket fell on her!" "Well the bucket was empty, wasn't it?" "Well yeah, the paint fell a lot faster than the bucket," maybe it was awful that they were laughing this hard at Greta's mishap, but good God did they think she was awful. She reaches down on her leg, putting her hand on top of his, and as if out of habit, he lefts his other hand fall on top of hers. "Needy," she teases, a smirk stretching across her lips. "Shut up," he doesn't take his hand back from her though. They're too caught up in each other to hear the front door open. "So did you get your pretty purple dress?" "Yeah I did," she smiles over at him, "I can't wait for you to see it. Oh! I got your tie too, remind me to bring it to you before I let you leave." "Can I see it now?" She shakes her head, leaning up to kiss his cheek, "Nope, I want you to be surprised when you see me on prom night." "Boring," he draws it out teasingly but kisses her cheek before she leans back onto the arm of the couch. His soft smiles tells her that he's not actually upset about waiting.

"So, this is who asked you to prom?" Bill's voice catches the attention of the whole room, causing the whole room to look at him like they've been caught in the act. He's visibly upset, looking between the two teens as if wondering if he should be mad at his friend or his sister. "Bill, I assure you this is not what it looks like," Richie starts. (Y/n) untangles herself from Richie, allowing him to get up as he goes to approach Bill. "So you didn't just have your hands all over my little sister?" "No, one was on her hand and one was on her knee. They were very still." "Richie!" If the scenario wasn't so tense she'd be laughing as she yells at him, he know it too as he waves her off. "So, this is funny to you? You're taking advantage of my sister and that's funny to you?" "Woah," Richie's brows raise as he stares at the boy, "Taking advantage of her? We're not fucking, were joking on your couch while your little brother does his homework." "She just went through the worst breakup of her life, with your best friend, and now you're all over her so yeah, you're taking advantage of her, even if you still have your pants on.

"Billy, we were going to tell you, Mom and Dad, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Tozier know." She walks up, putting herself between her boyfriend and brother nervously. Richie instinctively wraps an arm around her, pulling her back slightly. "So you weren't going to tell me?" "We were, we just weren't going to tell you until we were sure we were actually something because we knew you'd be mad." "Well no shit," he rolls his eyes, arms crossing over his chest, "I told my friends that things had to stay platonic with you because I didn't want to see you hurt again. And so you actively sought out Richie? After everything? He saw what happened to you and you both said, wow let me do the exact same thing." "Do not fucking compare me to him," Richie's voice is obviously so upset that his voice is dropping, shoulders stiffening. "And to think, I thought he was lying to make himself look better because there was no way that Richie would do that."

"Do not compare me to him you asshole. I am nothing like him, I don't force her to lie and leave town to be around me. I'm actually proud to have her, I am nothing like him." "Yet who was he with when he never showed to her party?" "Bill," (Y/n) snaps, pushing Richie back slightly. "Go sit down," Bill is looking past her at Richie, jaw clenched in a way that made her nervous. "No." "(Y/n)," he flashes her a look and notices the stone cold look on her face. "William, you look like you want to hit him." "I do." Richie softly tugs her back as the siblings stare at each other. "Kitchen." "No." "William, kitchen, now. Richie, go sit with Georgie." "I don't want to leave you alone when he's like this," Richie dips down to her ear to whisper it. "I can handle Bill, you go sit," she snatches Bill's wrist, dragging him to the kitchen as she leaves her boyfriend's grip.

The eldest Denbrough sibling allowed his sister to drag him into the kitchen, despite the way he was fuming. "William, what the fuck was that?" Bill's mouth hangs open for a second truly shocked, "You're asking me that? Everything that you went through with Stan and you get with another one of my friends?" She rolls her eyes, walking over to lean against the counter, "God, Bill! He's not Stanley. He's Richie, Richard fucking Tozier! The guy who stayed by my side on my birthday for the whole day even though I wouldn't look at or talk to him because he felt guilty for missing my birthday party. Got a black eye from fighting a kid on the playground when he was eight because he fought a kid for being mean to me, Richie! The Richie who drove out to Bangor to pick up Angel and I because I called him crying even though he knew he'd get grounded for it. He's Richie!" Bill opens his mouth to argue but nothing comes out, letting the girl yell at him. "Richie, Bill, the guy who came over every day to make Georgie was okay after he broke his leg. Your childhood friend who always gave us the popsicles that he liked better because so did he. He's not Stanley, Bill."

Bill sighs, dragging his hand through his hair. She was right, of course she was, but he remembered her birthday and the New Years party. He watched her block out everyone for two weeks straight, he doesn't know if she could handle something like that again. Then again, did Richie really have that in him? If he wasn't being shy about it? "He's not Stan, you're right. I'm still not a fan of it though." She forces a smile, "You don't have to, just don't be a dick to him. He's actually a pretty good boyfriend." He raises an eyebrow, "Is he?" She nods, "You should have seen how fired up he got when Stan made a comment about seeing me in the diner." "Oh yeah?" "Yeah, there was a whole scene."

You said you nеver met one girl who Had as many James Taylor records as you But I do

She roamed the music store alone, fingers brushing over the shelves. It was basically empty, the only other customer bein an older man who she often saw while she was in there.

"Looking for something specific, pretty girl?" She looks over her shoulder to see Richie standing behind her. "I didn't know you were working tonight!" She's smiling up at him, eyes shining as he presses a kiss to her temple. "You didn't answer my question." "I'm looking for a copy of'(Live)' it's the last one I need for my collection." "I'm so jealous," he whines, leaning over her to look in the crate she's looking in, "I don't have a full collection yet and you just need one more." "Yeah, but you got all of yours yourself and I got a lot of mine from my dad." "So you're saying you're a fake fan." 'Absolutely not, you just gave him more money than me. You're a broker fan." He rolls his eyes, wiping the lens of his glasses on his shirt, "Well wouldn't you be lucky to have a really cool boyfriend who works here? Maybe one who knows that we just got that exact album in with the new shipment that came in today."

She lets out an excited little gasp, turning to wrap her arms around his torso, "You're kidding." He shakes his head, "You owe me something for it though." She smiles, reaching up to wrap her arms around her neck, placing a soft kiss to his lips which seems to be his secret password as he pulls back smiling. "I'll be right back with it, you meet me at the counter." She lets him go, watching him walk away as if he had the most important mission in the world. "I'll the luckiest girl in the world," she calls as she hears the door to the back room open. "Yeah you are!" She makes her way up to the front counter, tapping her nails against its cold granite top.

She can't help the way her mind wanders as she waits. It was just so wild to her that he was so public with her. Kissing her in his job, knowing it would get caught on his work's security cameras and his boss would give him shit about being professional. Stan never would have kissed her at work like that, even if he wasn't on the clock. And Richie, it's like he craved her affections. (Y/n) was slowly beginning to understand what it was like to feel wanted, and it felt good. And the girl had no idea that she was doing the same for him.

"It was on the top shelf, you severely underpaid my efforts, Dollface." She gives him a fake pout, "You're tall, you'll live through it." He shakes his head, pulling it to his chest, "I had to get a ladder for it, that's hard work." She sighs, though he can tell it's in a teasing manor as she grabs his collar, tugging him closer so that he was halfway bet over the counter. Pressing a soft , longer kiss onto his lips. "Can I have my record now? Please, pretty boy?" He laughs, ringing her up as she lets his collar go. "Only because you're really cute. And a good kisser, not as good as Ms. K, but," he winks at her as she scoffs. "You're still on that? I'm so telling Eddie." "Don't you dare," he smiles at her, bagging the vinyl carefully so it wouldn't get messed up on her drive home. She smiles at him, finally pushing herself off the counter, "I can't believe you had it. This is so exciting, you have to come listen to this with me tomorrow." He reaches over, poking her nose, "I wouldn't miss it. You know, I've ever met anyone who was as into James Taylor as I am, no one who even liked him enough to buy the records so they held up better." She hums, looking up at him, "But I do."

He types in his employee discount code, not that he'd tell her he did. She'd argue with him for at least five minutes if she knew, so he just read her the total, thankful that she hadn't seen it on the shelf. Even if he knew that he'd be in trouble when she checked her receipt in the car. But she was worth giving up his discount, even if it cost him an argument about how he shouldn't do that. "Thank you, Rich. You're definitely going to be there tomorrow right?" "I wouldn't miss it, Doll."

She holds the record to her chest as she walks to the door, an excited smile stretched across her face. "That your girl?" "Yeah," he smiles over to her, seeing the way she'd stopped at the door, "She's mine." "Lucky boy," the man laughs, placing his items on the counter, "Seems like she has good taste." "Yeah, she does. No idea how she picked me out when she has good taste everywhere else." The response makes her giggle as she makes her way out of the door. His words echoing in her mind as she gets into her car.

We tell stories and you don't know why I'm coming off a little shy

(Y/n) smiles softly from her spot on Richie's lap, leaning against him as if he trust was going to disappear. She hadn't spent time with all seven members of the losers club since Halloween, she sorta felt like an intruder in her own home. She nearly felt shy about it, clinging to Richie in their spot between Bev and her brother. As if she'd be unrecognizable without them. The group was passing around stories from the past few months and (Y/n) was trying really hard to pay attention. It was hard to keep up with Bill and Stan as they bounced off of each other, trying to tell a story about practice but it seemed to blur. And toying with Richie's fingers where they rest in her lap seems a little more entertaining than listening to Stan did.

"Oh, and that was the day that I found out that (Y/n) and Richie and she basically tore me a new one." It caught her attention, her head popping up to look at him. "Yeah, well, you wanted to tear my boyfriend apart. So you kinda deserved it." Bill puts his hands up as if to surrender, "You got me there." "No way, what did you say to him?" Bev laughs as she shoves (Y/n)'s arm. She nervously clings to Richie, "Well you know he was yelling at me worried about 'how could I do this again' and how I was going to get hurt again and I was like 'By Richard Tozier?' And I pointed out how many times this fucking fool has gotten in trouble for me and Bill was all 'you got me there' and now we're cool. He's playing it up, really."

"I don't know, Doll. You were cursing and screaming at him, it was pretty loud. Really cute that you felt the need to stand up for me though." "You heard?" She can feel her cheeks heat up as she turns to him. "I'm pretty sure the entire neighborhood heard you, (Y/n), Bill laughs. The girl looks back down to the tangle of fingers in her lap, "On that note, I'm going to get a drink, anybody want one?" "Can you grab me a water?" Bill smiles up at her as she wiggles out of Richie's arms. "Anyone else?" "I want one, but I'll come with," Richie gets up, following her out the door. He didn't actually want a drink, he just wanted to make sure his girlfriend was okay. He grabs a hold of her hand, nearly clinging to it as they make their way into the kitchen.

She's immediately at the fridge, dropping is hand to grab Bill's water and sit it on the counter. "Dollface?" She hums, searching her fridge for god knows what. "Are you okay? You seem out of it today." He walks over before she can respond, wrapping his arms around her from behind, feeling the chill of the fridge hit his face. "I'm okay. I might go lay down though." He frowns, rubbing a hand up and down her arm, "Are you sick, Doll?" She shakes her head, "I just feel like I'm intruding, no one else brought their partners so it's weird." He knows it's not his place to intrude, kissing the top of her head, "Can I join you? I'll play with your hair if you want? Rub your back?" She turns to look at him for a second, "Are you sure? I don't wanna take you away." He shakes his head, "I wanna be with you."

It makes her smile, reaching into the fridge again to grab a Gatorade, "What do you want to drink, baby?" "Oh, I didn't actually want one. I just wanted to make sure you were okay." She smiles, leaning against his chest, "Thank you." "Go ahead upstairs, Doll, I'll take this to Bill and meet you there," he grabs Bill's water as he speaks, heading to the living room as (Y/n) heads up the stairs. "Hey guys, (Y/n) isn't feeling very well so she's going to go lay down. I' going to go lay with her, so I hate to cut this short but," he shrugs, handing Bill his water. "Why do you have to go lay with her? She's a big girl," Stan looks at Richie with his brows raised as if trying to find an ulterior motive. "Well Stan, most people want to know that their partner is okay" his words aren't actively malicious but Bev laughs at it anyway.

"Door open," Bill calls after the boy, trying to hide the smirk that Richie's words made. "William, my dear, my dick has many talents but curing headaches not of them." "Gross," Bill yells back, but Richie can hear him slightly laughing, "I mean it, Tozier, I'm not ready to be an Uncle."

Richie turns the corner entering her room with a smirk which causes her to raise an eyebrow. "What, pray tell, did you say to my brother?" "He told me to keep the door open when I came up here and I so scientifically informed him that sex cannot cure a headache." "Oh, headache excuse, nice! I wish you could make all my excuses," she mumbles, opening her arms as she reaches for him. He shakes his head causing her to frown. "I'm the big spoon or no sale." She huffs turning to face her window with her arms playfully crossed over her chest. Richie however is climbing onto her bed as she fakes her little pout, one arm sliding under her head as the other wraps around her waist. Her hands reach down for his fingers, toying with them again. "What is it with you and my hands?" "I like them," she hums, twisting his class ring absent mindedly, "They're comforting. And big, makes them easy to play with."

It makes him chuckle, "You know what else is big?" He grabs her hips, snatching her back against his own hips. "Oh! Well now you've made it gross, get out of my bed," she pouts pulling away from him. "Wait, no, I'm sorry. Hold my hand again, I take it back," He pulls her back, tucking his face into her hair as he pouts. "Should I?" She giggles, squirming to get comfortable before taking his hand gently. Her hips adjust again, causing him to tighten his grip on them so she holds still. "Behave." "Oh, when have you ever behaved?"

And we walked down the block to my car And I almost brought him up

(Y/n) wasn't the type to go to parties that were hosted by someone she didn't know. But Richie was, enough so that he had her and the whole losers club at a "pre-prom party" whatever the hell that was. She didn't know anyone there outside of her boyfriend, her brother and his friends and it showed as she stood in the kitchen alone, back pressed to the counter as she sipped on a water bottle.

"Hey," she turned to see Stan walking up to her holding a plastic cup. "Hey, Stan," (Y/n) pulls her arms closer staring at him nervously. They hadn't been alone since before their break up, and if she was honest she really didn't want to be now. "So you and Richie are going to prom together huh?" She nods, "Yep, have been since March, like early March." He nods, finishing his drink before turning to her, "He'll never be me you know. He'll never know you the way I do. Once the way he babies you gets annoying you'll be running right back to sneaking around with me. Hell, I won't even make you break up with him for it, that makes it hotter." He's obviously drunk, slurring over every third word. But that doesn't make his words upset her less. "Where's your girlfriend, Stanley. You know, the one you're taking to prom?"

She pushes herself off the counter, on the way into the living room of whoever's house this was. She wanted Richie, she just wants to go home if she was honest, but not without Richie. She tried to stick to the edge, laughing slightly when she finally spotted him, dancing with Bill to "Baby Got Back". "Richie!" She has to yell for him to hear her, but when he does he grabs her no problem, pulling her against his chest and kissing her temple, "Hey there's my baby! What's up?" She frowns, realizing how happy her was, maybe she should just tough it out. "Hey, is everything okay?" He tilts her head to look at him and she smiles. "Yeah just, whenever you're ready to go home, I am." He nods, "We can go home, Bill we're going home!" "Be safe! Use protection!" She buries her face in Richie's shoulder, embarrassed as he walks her to the door. Bill was so wasted.

"Who even throws a pre-prom party?" (Y/n) forces a laugh as they walk out of the house. "Her?" He answers it as if it's the simplest thing in the world. Arms wrapped tightly around her as they walk, swaying slightly due to how drunk Richie truly was. "I see that. It was totally just an excuse to get wasted, right?" He nods, "It worked." And she tries not to change the conversation to what happened in the kitchen. She had already seen that he was willing to get defensive over her and she didn't want to see what drunk Richie would do.

But what Stan said, Richie should know right? Then again, they were both drunk and she had no way of knowing that either would remember it. Her thoughts are cut off by the way that Richie grabs for her hand, tangling their fingers together and leaning on her and she doesn't think she actually cares about Stan. More interested in the boy who would leave a party just because she asked and the way he clings to her. One day he'd have to face it, in a month and a half, Richie has been more of a man than Stan was in four. Twice the man that Stan would ever be. And Richie should know that she thinks that, shouldn't he? Just, not tonight.

"So Bill said that if you want to come stay with me he'll cover for you with your mom." And that one sentence made her drop it, if Bill, even drunk Bill, had shown Richie that he trusted him with her, the Richie already knew he was more of man than Stan. Hell, he probably knew long before that moment. "Oh yeah?" "Yeah, we're going to have a sleepover! And we're going to talk about boys; you can only talk about me though, unless you want to talk about other boys I guess. But only if the other boys are hotter than me." She laughs, unlocking his door before kissing his cheek, "There's not hotter boys than you, baby. Even when you're this wasted, I think you're hot." He turns to smile at her, sitting down but keeping his legs out the car so she can't close the door. "You're so nice. Oh! And you can wear one of my shirts which is you know, so hot" he's got a lazy smile on his face, leaning against the seat. She laughs, leaning down to kiss his forehead, "Seeing me in clothes is hot? Here I thought that I've been playing hard to get. Now, finish getting in the car, I need to get you home." He gets in the car, pulling his door closed with a pout as she goes around to her driver's side. The moment she's fully in the car his hand is on her thigh, "I think you're always hot, but I think my clothes would just double it. Because ya know, they're mine and so are you. Not that I own you, I think you could kick my ass, though you could claim you own me if you wanted. That's also hot." She shakes her head, "Okay Richie Baby."

I've been spending the last eight months Thinking all love ever does is break, and burn, and end

"You look so pretty tonight," Richie's voice barely makes it to her ear in the bustling noise of their prom. Even the slow songs were too loud for her. "Richie you've told me that at least three times an hour since you showed up at my house," she smiles up at him, brushing some hair out of his face. "And I'll keep saying it. Purple is so your color, I'm serious, Doll, you look amazing." She smiles, looking up at him, "So do you, Richie. Serious, I'm the luckiest girl here." He leans down, softly kissing her. Her hands left his shoulders to hold the sides of his face to keep him in place. "Hey, Doll?" He pulls back, leaving her to pout up at him.

"Yeah?" "Come with me for a second." She nods, taking his hand and letting him lead her to the direction of the bathroom. It was quieter there, and just the two of them. Just like he'd hoped for. "Is everything okay, Rich?" "Yeah," his voice cracks slightly as he sits down on one of the benches, "Just wanted to talk to you without screaming. It was sorta, important." She nods, making her way to sit beside him "Is everything alright?" He nods, "It's actually probably stupid but uh," he grabs her hand, "Do you remember when we were kids, and I got in a fight over you at a playground. And how from that moment up until the whole, mess that Stan made our dads swore you and I were going to fall in love one day? And we always said it was gross because of cooties and how I was Bill's friend so I couldn't love his sister?" She laughs nervously, shifting slightly in her seat, "Yeah, why?" "Well, I think maybe they were right after all, or at least half right." The nerves are turning into butterflies as he looks at her like that.

"Are you saying what I think you are, Tozier?" He lets out a soft sigh, looking at her as if he's scared of his own answer. "I love you," he can't look away from her, as if he's glued in one place. "Richie?" "Yeah?" His heart begins sinking. Maybe she wasn't over Stan, maybe he pushed too fast? What if he was just a distraction? "I love you too," her hand finds the back of his neck, dragging him closer as if she needs him. And maybe she does. He doesn't stop her, instead pulling her closer as their lips meet, the girl cupping his cheek, a thumb rubbing circles on his cheekbone in a way that makes him melt into her, hand coming up to keep her there. They pull away slowly, breathless and heart-eyed. "I love you," she smiles pecking his lips again, wrapped up in the high of the moment. He pecks her lips, whispering, "I love you too," against them. Too wrapped up in her to care who passes them.

#Fic recs #richie tozier x reader #richie it

366 notes · View notes