#and you know Richie would think Will was prettier than shit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

just-jordie-things · 3 years

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A Lover And A Fighter - Richie Tozier

word count: 3122 warnings: swearing, sight sexual harassment summary: Richie promised (y/n) that he wouldn’t get into fights anymore, but sometimes he just can’t help himself. Especially when it comes to protecting her.

___

It was an understatement to say that Richie was protective of you. The boy was downright insane about it. Everyone in Derry knew not to fuck with (y/n), not unless they wanted Richie Tozier tracking them down and beating them half to death.

You’d given him a talk numerous times. But not once did they work, it always went in one ear and out the other..

He’d beaten up three ex boyfriends, a couple guys that looked at you the wrong way, and Greta Keene. He was proud of that amount.

But he’d promised that he would try his best not to act out on your behalf anymore. And you made him pinky promise. That’s a big deal. And he didn’t want to break your trust or your promise.

However… once he walked past Henry Bowers and his dumbass friends, and heard your name being mentioned, he couldn’t stop himself from getting involved.

“What was that?” He spoke before he could think things through.

The boys turned to him, each bearing a scowl that wasn’t out of character.

“I said, (y/n’s) not fucking worth it,” Henry practically growled out. “Now why don’t you fuck off, Tozier?”

“Your damn fucking right it’s not worth it,” Richie spat back, turning away, doing the right thing. “I’d break your goddamn nose” He muttered under his breath.

“It’s not worth it to try and get in her pants,” Henry called out before Richie could walk far enough away.

He stopped in his tracks.

“Cause she’s such a slut anyways, it’s not a real victory to fuck-”

Richie had never whipped around so fast. And with the punch he delivered went all common sense, and all the promises and reassurances he’d given you to prove he was going to ‘mature’ as you’d begged him to do. ___

“Hey, Richie,” You held your phone between your ear and shoulder as you painted your toes. “This is like, my fifth message… so… call me back, I guess. Okay, bye”

You sighed as you set the phone back on it’s holster. Richie wasn’t the type of guy to stand you up, especially on taco tuesday. And even if something came up, he always always, called. But now he couldn’t even bother to return one of your calls, leaving you to assume that he was upset with you for some reason, and therefore ignoring you.

You weren’t sure what you did, and at this point, you also weren’t sure that he was going to tell you either.

When Richie didn’t want to talk to someone, he was the damn best at avoiding them.

But he’d never given you the cold shoulder. And there was a time that you’d thought he never would. Richie was your best friend, you trusted and confided in him more than anyone else, even the other Losers. And in the last seven years of being his best friend, he’d never treated you this way. In fact, he always treated you amazingly, like a princess, it was very surprising actually, the way he cared about you.

It was that care that always led him to picking fights where he shouldn’t be, though. It started with your ex boyfriend. He broke up with you once a ‘better, prettier’ girl showed interest (his words), and the next thing you knew, Richie was throwing him against the lockers.

When your next boyfriend straight up cheated on you, Richie took care of him too.

He broke the third one’s nose.

And then there was the Greta Keene incident… Beverly may have let it slip that Greta had been writing nasty rumors about you in the girls bathrooms. And Richie declared that he didn’t have a problem beating up a girl if it was justified (and if that girl had man arms). That was when you drew the line, and made Richie swear to try and control his anger. And he pinkie promised to work on it, and that he wouldn’t get into any more fights over you.

You weren’t sure why he got so enraged over these things. It was just drama, and you found it pointless that he tried to bring you justice, since he was so reckless about it.

It was getting late, and you knew that Richie wasn’t going to return your calls. So you finished painting your toenails blue, and decided to spend the night in your room, reading, alone.

Even though you should have been eating a bunch of tacos and gossiping with Richie.

Just as you got situated in bed, and had turned off the overhead light in exchange for the soft glow of your lamp on the bedside table, there was a knock on the window.

When you glanced over, you could tell it was Richie by his silhouette, and you frowned slightly.

Nonetheless, you got up and unlocked the window, before sliding it open.

“Where the hell have you been?” You asked.

He could tell that you couldn’t see his face very well.

“Busy, you gonna let me in?” He grinned.

“Richie, it’s-” You glanced over your shoulder to the alarm clock on your table, before glaring back at him. “-midnight. Are you kidding me? Did I do something to piss you off?”

“What? (y/n/n), no-”

“Then how come you were dodging all my calls? And you’re seven hours late?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest..

Richie crawled in through the window, even though you hadn’t invited him in yet. But he figured it was only a matter of time before you cave anyways.

Your distressed face disappeared as you caught sight of him now that he was in the light. His left eye was bruising, and so was his right cheekbone. Along with a split lip and a bloody nose, it was clear what had happened.

“Oh, Richie…” You mumbled, hand reaching up to cover your mouth as your eyes widened at the sight of him. “Tell me you didn’t-”

“Look it’s not what you think-” Richie tried to protest.

“Don’t give me that shit”

He knew he fucked up, because you weren’t yelling. Your voice was soft, and low. You were heartbroken.

He stared down at the ground, too anxious to look at you anymore. Not when you looked so disappointed in him.

“You promised- you-you pinky promised me-”

“I know-! I know and I’m sorry, really, I’m really fucking sorry” He told you, desperately hoping that you’d forgive him.

You shook your head at him, and gestured for him to sit before you left the room. Richie was the most frustratingly complicated person that you knew, and it drove you insane. Why he couldn’t just walk away and not beat the shit out of people… you weren’t sure. But it really hurt you that he didn’t even seem to try, and he broke his promise.

Richie was sitting on the side of your bed when you came back into the room. He chuckled as he eyed the first aid kit in your hands, the same one that you’ve used the last four or five times you dealt with the aftermath of his episodes of rages.

“You don’t have t-”

“Yes I do” You cut him off and unpacked what you’d need.

You were upset, you were fuming, actually. It angered you that Richie broke his promise, not even a month after making it. That promise was important to you, because he was important to you. And now here he was, waiting to be fixed up by you once again after he so stupidly, so recklessly got himself beaten to a pulp.

But no matter how angry you were, you remained silent. Dabbing at the excess blood under his nose, which at least wasn’t bleeding anymore. And when you were finished with his cheek, you moved on to rubbing cream over the bruise on his cheek. Richie’s eyes fell shut as he sighed in relief at the feeling of the cool lotion, and your gentle fingers.

He knew your silence wasn’t a good thing. In fact, it was the worst thing. It meant he messed up beyond redemption. And he’d never fucked up that bad before. Sure, he’d pissed you off and frustrated you on the daily, but that was just the hallmark of his friendship, and it was never anything serious. Just when he dragged you out in the middle of the night for slushies, or got you in trouble in class because he was running his mouth. He’d never made you this genuinely upset before.

“(y/n)-”

“Save it” You muttered before he could even start with the apologies.

That was another hallmark of his friendship. You knew what came next. The apologies, the excuses, the begging for your forgiveness, followed by a playful ‘you know you love me, you need me’ and puppy dog eyes that you couldn’t refuse. Except tonight, you might just be able to.

He took you by surprise when he didn’t protest, and snapped his mouth shut. Your eyes met his for a moment, before you started applying a smaller amount of lotion on the bruise surrounding his eye. It was going to look a lot worse in the morning, but this would help with the pain now.

You hated that your heart ached for him right now. You hated that you wanted to cry and hold him and make him feel better. Because you were so fucking mad-

“I don’t understand,” The words suddenly spilled out of your mouth, as if your mind just couldn’t take them swimming around in your head anymore. “I just- I- I don’t fucking get it”

He nodded, ducking his head down, only for you to lift it back up by his chin and continue with the lotion.

“I care about you, dumbass, and all I asked, which I thought was simple, all I asked was for you to stop with the fighting-”

“I know” He mumbled back.

You stared at him skeptically, wondering if he really did know, or if he’d show up again in a few weeks with the same battered face and guilty look in his eyes. Richie didn’t look back at you. He couldn’t.

“Who?” You asked, trying to soften your voice so he wouldn’t whither away from you like he was doing right now.

“You’re not gonna like it” Richie answered, fingers pinching at your bedsheets in an attempt to distract himself. From the pain that burned across his whole face, or from the intensity in your eyes, he wasn’t sure, but he needed the distraction.

He hadn’t had a smoke in months, but it sounded pretty damn good right now.

“Well, newsflash, I don’t like any of this,” You told him. “But I think I deserve to at least know what happened”

Of course you do, Richie hung his head in his hands. You deserve so, so much better.

You watched as he rubbed his palms over his eyes, and it took everything in your power not to take his hands and hold them in yours, to tell him it was okay and you forgave him.

“Bowers”

He muttered the single word without even looking at you. But he didn’t have to look at you to know exactly what you looked like in that moment. You probably had a dropped jaw and furrowed brows. Disappointment, disgust, anger, all displayed in one heartbreaking look.

“Richie…” You murmured without meaning to. “Why? Why would you-”

“I had to, okay?” He shot up suddenly. “I know that you hate it, and as soon as I swung I- I knew I fucked up, but I had to”

You wanted to argue it, argue that there’s always another option, that he can always walk away. But you bit your tongue. Something about the way he spoke told you that there was more to this than his stupidity.

“I’m sorry, (y/n/n), I am. But I… I don’t regret it”

Your heart sunk all the way down to your stomach. Richie had such a toll on your emotions and he didn’t even know it.

“Tell me what happened” You said quietly, and shifted closer to him.

You wanted him to know he had your undivided attention, and that he should have the chance to at least explain what happened. You pulled your leg up to rest on the mattress, and turned your body to face him.

Richie looked at you before looking back down at his hand, which was now fisted in your blankets.

“Richie,” You hummed, brows furrowing as you saw how reluctant he was to opening up. “Tell me” The words were so soft, it was almost inaudible.

You wondered what Henry could have done that Richie didn’t want to tell you about. He must have really outdone himself.

“He was just talking shit-”

“Richie,” You cut off his bullshit before he could even start. “Come on, the truth”

“It’s not-”

“I deserve to know, Tozier! Whatever it is, I don’t care, okay? Just tell me-”

“He said you weren’t worth sleeping with!”

Just like that, you’d gotten him to snap.

And you shut up instantly, shocked by the outburst. His words processed slowly in your head.

“He said it wasn’t worth trying because you’re- because you’re a slut, and it wasn’t fucking true!” Richie continued to yell. Not at you, he just couldn’t contain his own anger anymore.

And you thought you were pissed.

“Motherfucker had your name in his nasty fucking mouth and he was telling his buddies fucking lies and I couldn’t- fuck I couldn’t walk away. I should’ve fucking killed him”

You were staring at him, speechless. You should’ve known it was about you, Richie was always so fiercely protective of you. And Henry’s wouldn’t be the first nose that he’d broken protecting you. But this wasn’t like before. He’d beaten on your ex boyfriends after they broke your heart. Henry hadn’t said or done anything to you, he was just doing what boys do. (Make shit up because they think it makes them impressive when really they’re even shittier than they look)

“I didn’t mean to break your promise,” Richie huffed. His face was slightly flushed after his mini tantrum. His hands grabbed both of yours, holding them close to him. “I’m so sorry I put you through this again”

You were still silent, but he knew this wasn’t a bad silence. You were still processing, still trying to figure out how to forgive him while making sure this was the last time he crawls through your window looking like this.

“I hope you know that it came from a place of- of caring about you,” He added. “Caring about you too much, I guess” He mumbled as an afterthought.

Your stupid lovesick heart skipped a beat at the sweet words. Richie wasn’t one for words, at all, but he somehow managed to say the most loving things without even realizing it.

“I can’t promise it won’t happen again, that much is clear. And if Bowers says one more goddamn thing about your ass I’ll fucking string him up- I will- but I can promise I’ll try, okay? I will, I’ll really try”

He squeezed your hands a little bit, hoping you believed him, hoping you trusted him.

Your eyes flickered between his for a moment, and you could see in them that he was being sincere, and that he was broken up over hurting you.

“You…” He started to speak, but trailed off unsurely. “You deserve better” He finished.

His eyes flickered to yours for a brief moment, before he turned away.

You shake your head, before you let go of one of his hands, and took his chin between your thumb and index finger, turning him to look back at you.

“(y/n/n)-”

You cut him off when you leaned in and gently kissed him, trying to be mindful of his split lip.

Richie’s eyes remained focused on your closed ones, too stunned to close them, or really kiss her back.

He wanted to kick himself when you pulled away. He managed to miss his fucking chance because he was too slow to do anything about it.

Your eyes fluttered open in such a beautiful way Richie swore you were holding his heart in your perfect little hands.

His brows were furrowed like you’d confused him, and you absolutely had. He hadn’t expected you to kiss him.

“Why’d you do that?” He asked breathlessly, and your cheeks burned pink.

Your shoulders raised a bit in a shrug, and you had to bite your lip to keep from smiling too much.

“I just… wanted to” You whispered.

A smile twitched on the corner of Richie’s lips before his hand cupped your cheek, and he pulled you in again, so he could kiss you right this time.

Your lips were just as soft, if not softer, than he’d imagined they’d be. And he’d imagined countless times what they’d feel like. Daydreaming in class, before he fell asleep, and being right by your side for the last seven years.

Kissing you was bliss.

He did it again, taking your face in both of his hands and pulling you impossibly closer. He could feel your lips smiling against his own, and once again, his heart was beating out of his chest trying to get to yours.

“I’m in love with you, (y/n/n)” He murmured when you parted, and you laughed softly.

“That makes sense,” You replied, reaching a hand up to play with the curls on the back of his neck. “And… I love you too”

Richie gave you a sunshine smile, which you couldn’t help but return.

“I’m still upset, by the way,” You told him, still playing with the curls. “But only cause I’m tired of seeing you covered in bruises, okay?”

He nodded, and you leaned your cheek further against the palm of his hand.

“I promise to try” He said, and then raised his pinky.

You looked from his hand and then back to him, a slight glare in your eyes.

“Come on, just do it,” He urged, you rolled your eyes, but he was persistent. “Just link fuckin’ pinkies with me”

With a giggle you hooked your pinky with his, and held it for a moment.

“You want to go get tacos now?” He asked, and you grinned, nodding your head.

“You read my mind” You answered, and followed him back out the window.

It dawned on you that Richie was both your lover and your fighter. And he held those titles proudly.

As he took your hand and walked alongside you down the street, he decided there were no other title he’d want to be labeled, besides yours. ___

taglist: @thegr8kush

xoxo ~ jordie

#it #it chapter one #it chapter two #it fanfiction #richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier scenario #richie tozier imagine #richie tozier fanfiction #finn wolfhard #finn wolfhard x reader #bill hader #bill hader x reader

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thorniest-rose · 4 years

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reddie halloween prompt #4 candy

It all happens in the small pocket of time between advanced math and the dirge of gym. Jimmy’s dragging his heels, hanging back in the bathrooms on the second floor, trying to delay the inevitable jeers of all the boys in his class. As they mock him for his weak knees and his protruding ribs, pinging their towels at him and asking him how small his dick is, if it’s even big enough to get hard.

But Jimmy knows it’s coming. After years of falling victim for his chronic acne, and his high-pitched voice, for sometimes just existing, he’s come to expect it.

What he doesn’t expect is to be cornered by Richie Tozier, the weird loudmouth with the dark eyes and the wide grin, who laughed like a jackal at his own vulgar jokes and could outsmart all of their teachers without trying.

Jimmy hadn’t spoken to Richie in more than two years, had done nothing to warrant the boy’s wrath. So he doesn’t know why he’s here now, wedged back against the window as Richie grins down at him. The wacky kid with buck teeth and bottle glasses who had somehow transformed into this tall, moody, striking teen with the cheekbones that could cut glass. Who all the girls secretly looked at as he walked down the hallway.

He asks, “W-what do you want, Richie?”

Richie grins at him like they’re friends. “I just thought we could catch up, Jimmy. I’ve seen you hanging out with your new girlfriend.”

Jimmy swallows hard. Was that what this was about?

“Oh yeah…”

“Oh yeah,” Richie mocks. “What, you think no one had noticed? That one of the hottest girls at school is suddenly hanging off your dick and no one would say anything?”

Jimmy shrugs, but his mouth has gone bone dry. He’d been dating Cindy for the last three weeks and it had sent ripples through school. Everyone was shocked. That someone as beautiful and popular as Cindy would even talk to a guy like Jimmy, let alone fall head over heels for him. At lunchtime she now ditched all her friends to sit in a corner of the cafeteria with him, and after school walked home with his hand in hers. At the weekend, they got ice cream and walked to the lake and sat in his backyard, and the entire time she looked at him with her big blue eyes, and told him she never wanted anything else.

“It’s just curious, that’s all,” Richie continues, eyes glinting. “Pretty sure she hated your fucking guts a few months ago.”

“Things change, Richie.”

“Is that right,“ he replies, his dark eyebrows raised mockingly.

And Jimmy’s had enough. He gets enough shit from jock assholes as it is, without a weird fucking kid like Richie joining in.

“Richie, I really have to get to class. Gym is starting and if I’m late-”

Richie pushes him back against the wall with one hand to his chest. The skin on the back of his hand is mottled, scarred, and Jimmy’s chest tightens. The skin looks like it was run over with a sheet of barbed wire.

“Hold your horses,” Richie says, “we haven’t finished catching up yet.”

Jimmy blurts, “Are you… are you jealous or something?”

“Nice try, dipshit, but no, I’m not jealous that you’re with a blonde airhead like Cindy. I need to know how you did it.”

Jimmy feels the bottom drop out of his stomach.

“What?”

“Come on,” Richie says, his mouth unfurling into a slow, smoky grin, “don’t wuss out on me now.”

“Cindy has feelings for me.”

Richie barks and rolls his eyes. "Unless you’re seriously packing down there, I doubt that.”

“I mean it, we have a real connection.”

The good humour drops from Richie’s face.

“Bullshit,” he hisses, making Jimmy flinch. “I know you did something. No way would she even fucking look at a little creep like you if you hadn’t done something to her. So you’re either paying her, but I know your parents are piss poor so it’s not that. Maybe you’re blackmailing her, but you’re too pussy for that too. So it has to be something else.”

“What do you mean?” Jimmy splutters, feeling like he’s going to wet himself.

He’d heard things about Richie over the last few years. That he got his scars from some unknown childhood trauma, that he’d been kidnapped and tortured by a crazy man. Jimmy didn’t know how true any of that was, but he couldn’t deny the mad glint in Richie’s eyes. That his smiles were always slightly too manic to be good-natured. That when he laughed it sent chills through him.

“Are you going to beat me up? Tell Cindy? Try to reverse the spell?”

He regrets it the second it’s out his mouth, but Richie’s eyes shine, like he’d guessed the twist in a movie before everyone else.

“I knew it,” he says.

Panic grips Jimmy; it catapults him halfway across the bathroom, but Richie is too fast for him. Before he can make it to the door, he feels a hand on his backpack and a second later he’s being thrown back towards the sinks. He crashes back, stumbling, and almost falls to the floor. And Richie just stares at him, a dead heat lighting up his eyes. One brown and one blue.

“Please, let me go, Richie,” Jimmy says, half crumpled against the sinks. He cringes at the whimpering note in his voice, how close he sounds to begging.

“I don’t think so.”

“Why? Are you going to blackmail me?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“What do you want? I don’t have anything to give you. I don’t have money.”

Richie’s lips draw back in a snarl. “Are you really that fucking stupid? I’m here because I want you to do it for me too.”

Jimmy blinks at him. He didn’t think Richie would have any problems with girls. Not with the way they had started to look at him.

His mind flicks through the girls in their year, tries to settle on anyone Richie might like. But he’d never seen Richie pay attention to any girls he knew. Come to think of it, he didn’t think Richie ever had a girlfriend.

“You do…? On who?”

Richie doesn’t hesitate as he says, “Eddie Kaspbrak.”

Jimmy feels his mouth drop open. He says, “You’re… you’re a fag?”

Richie’s face goes dark, and Jimmy’s vision blacks out as Richie’s fist smashes into the side of his mouth. He staggers back, his head cracking against the wall, and distantly he hears himself cry out as a searing bolt of pain shoots through his skull.

When he comes to, his vision blotting hazily at the corners, Richie’s wiping his bloody knuckles against his jeans.

“Maybe we should try that again,” he says, tone mild, like he hadn’t just punched Jimmy in the face. “But if you say that fucking word one more time, I’ll push you out the window.”

Jimmy’s eyes prickle hot as the blood drips down his mouth. He thinks he might cry.

Richie notices and he sneers at him. “God, you’re such a fucking pussy. I could do a lot worse than that, you know.”

“I don’t know if I can do the spell again.”

And he didn’t. Jimmy had found the spell in an old tome he’d found in a dark basement bookstore two towns over. A place he heard whispers about. He hadn’t even thought the spell would work. But it had. He’d walked out of his house the next morning and Cindy had been on his doorstep, so happy and eager to see him Jimmy initially thought it had been a joke. But it hadn’t. She was besotted.

Richie looks unamused as he pulls an old lighter out of his pocket.

“You better remember,” he says, as he flicks it on, the orange flame making Jimmy jump. “Or I’ll have to help you jog your memory.”

“I… I guess I could try,” he mumbles as he watches the flame burn in Richie’s hand.

Richie shakes his head. “You’ll need to do better than that.” He flicks the lighter off and on again. “Have you been burned before? I read once that being set on fire is the most excruciating pain you can ever feel. I wonder if Cindy will still feel the same about you if she can’t recognise you. Spell or no spell.”

Desperation claws at Jimmy’s throat and he quickly blurts, “Okay, I’ll do it, I will.”

Richie flicks the lighter off. “Good,” he says.

And a part of Jimmy, though surprised, gets it, because Eddie was beautiful. Over the last year he’d blossomed from a sick little boy into something slender and sweet, with long tanned legs and the thickest lashes Jimmy had ever seen. There was a rumour going around school that Eddie was prettier than most girls, and that they all hated him for it. Not that he seemed to notice. He went to his classes and ran with the track team, and was always quiet and serene, apart from the times he saw Richie. When his expression went icy and his tone turned brittle.

Jimmy still can’t help but ask, “Why him?”

"Because he’s everything,” Richie replies.

Jimmy doesn’t know what to say to that, so instead he says, “I’ll need something of his. For the spell to bind to him.”

“No problem.”

Richie takes a small locket of dark hair out of his pocket. Jimmy stares at it. He doesn’t want to know how Richie got it. How he already had it on him.

“There are risks, I need you to know that,” he says as Richie hands it to him.

Richie just stares at him, looking bored. “I don’t really care.”

“But it might not work. Or it could go wrong. Sometimes these spells… sometimes they don’t turn out the way we expect them to.”

And Jimmy was telling the truth. He’d heard some terrible things. Sometimes the spell didn’t take, and sometimes it took too well, driving the enchanted lover to the edges of hysteria, so obsessed with the object of their affections that they couldn’t eat or sleep. That they couldn’t function without being with the person who had cast the spell.

“Just do whatever it takes,” Richie says, his brown eye so dark it looked almost black. “I want him to be crazy for me. So crazy that he needs me, all the time. I don’t want him to think of anything else but me. Got it?”

“Got it,” Jimmy says quietly. And for some reason he feels ashamed.

He jumps again when he feels Richie clap his hand down on his shoulder.

“There we go, that wasn’t so hard was it? You have a week. Or I’ll tell everyone what you’ve done. And your cute new girlfriend won’t be able to stand the sight of you.” He grins at Jimmy. "Sound good?”

“Yeah,“ Jimmy says, head nodding stupidly even as his stomach churns. “Sounds good.”

“Cool, I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

On his way out, Richie gestures to Jimmy’s nose. “You might want to clean that up by the way. Get a cotton bud up there.”

In the silence following Richie’s departure, Jimmy stares at himself in the mirror and doesn’t recognise the pale, pleading face staring back at him. He thinks he might be sick, but instead he mops up the blood oozing from his nose and goes to gym.

A week later, he hides around a corner as he watches Richie hand Eddie the candy: a little bag of pink love hearts knotted at the top with a ribbon. Inside, one of the love hearts is special. Nestled inside the sugar is a drop of lamb’s blood, crushed belladonna, and the membrane of a baby bird. The potion Jimmy had made and injected into the candy the night before, the potion that would turn Eddie’s blood molten for Richie.

Eddie asks, "Why, Richie?"

"Can’t I treat you, baby?” Richie replies.

“Don’t call me that please.”

Eddie looks at the candy dubiously at first, but eventually he can’t resist, and he takes it from Richie with a mumbled thanks.

Jimmy has a thought of ducking round the corner and running down the hall, slapping the candy from Eddie’s hands just in time, of saving him. But he doesn’t. Because he’s a coward. So he hangs back and watches instead. Watches as Eddie takes the special love heart, the one that’s pinker and plumper than the rest, and pops it into his mouth.

The change is instantaneous. Eddie’s body goes suddenly taut, as if his limbs are being pulled together by a string, and his eyes go bright and glossy as he stares up at Richie. The frown between his eyes melts away, and in its place his expression softens, his mouth pink and lax as he mouths Richie’s name.

Jimmy feels like he’s going to throw up. He spins around and starts walking away just as he hears Eddie say, “Richie,” like he’s seeing the other boy for the first time. Like Richie is a bright, burning sphere of sunshine in an endless night. He walks down the hallway and all the way home. Tosses and turns all night with half-snatched dreams.

And the next day, when he comes across the two boys making out in the woods, Eddie’s mouth so wet and red as Richie bites at it, his hands grabbing as Eddie through his jeans while the smaller boy gasps, Jimmy doesn’t do anything. And when Richie’s eyes meet his over Eddie’s head, swimming with mirth, and something like greed, Jimmy stumbles and runs. He runs and runs, and not once does he ever think to look back.

#reddie #reddie drabbles #halloween reddie #love spells #tw dark richie #tw obsession #tw no consent #tw violence #tw homophobic language

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sleepy-weezypeezy · 5 years

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Direct Quotes: Richie’s Bisexuality in the Book

Richie and girls

• Looking at a dirty magazine with girls in it and getting turned on.

as Richie Tozier was sneaking a look at the half-undressed girls in a copy of Gem he had found at the bottom of his father’s socks-and-underwear drawer and getting a regular good boner

—

• His attraction to Beverly.

Richie liked Bev a lot. Well, he liked her, but not that way. He admired her looks (and knew he wasn’t alone—girls like Sally Mueller and Greta Bowie hated Beverly like fire, still too young to understand how they could have everything else so easily . . . and still have to compete in the matter of looks with a girl who lived in one of those slummy apartments on Lower Main Street), but mostly he liked her because she was tough and had a really good sense of humor. Also, she usually had cigarettes. He liked her, in short, because she was a good guy. Still, he had once or twice caught himself wondering what color underwear she was wearing under her small selection of rather faded skirts, and that was not the sort of thing you wondered about the other guys, was it?

And, Richie had to admit, she was one hell of a pretty guy.

[...]

“Hi, Richie,” Bev said, and when she turned toward him he saw a purple-blackish bruise on her right cheek, like the shadow of a crow’s wing. He was again struck by her good looks … only it occurred to him now that she might actually be beautiful. It had never really occurred to him until that moment that there might be beautiful girls outside of the movies, or that he himself might know one. Perhaps it was the bruise that allowed him to see the possibility of her beauty—an essential contrast, a particular flaw which first drew attention to itself and then somehow defined the rest: the gray-blue eyes, the naturally red lips, the creamy unblemished child’s skin. There was a tiny spray of freckles across her nose.

[...]

She leaned against Richie’s shoulder for a moment and Richie had just time to reflect that her touch, and the sensation of her lightly carried weight, was not exactly unpleasant.

[...]

Her eyes, that fine clear shade of blue-gray, turned up to his. They were coolly amused. She pretended to primp her hair and asked him, “Oh dear, am I being asked out on a date?”

For a moment Richie was uncharacteristically flustered. He actually felt a blush rising in his cheeks. He had made the offer in a perfectly natural way, just as he had made it to Ben … except hadn’t he said something to Ben about owesies? Yes. But he hadn’t said anything about owesies to Beverly.

Richie suddenly felt a bit weird. He had dropped his eyes, retreating from her amused glance, and realized now that her skirt had ridden up a bit when she shifted forward to drop the ice-cream cone in the litter barrel, and he could see her knees. He raised his eyes but that was no help; now he was looking at the beginning swells of her bosoms.

Richie, as he usually did in such moments of confusion, took refuge in absurdity.

“Yes! A date!” he screamed, throwing himself on his knees before her and holding his clasped hands up. “Please come! Please come! I shall ruddy kill meself if you say no, ay-wot? Wot-wot?”

“Oh, Richie, you’re such a fuzzbrain,” she said, giggling again … but weren’t her cheeks also a trifle flushed? If so, it made her look prettier than ever.

[...]

“Sure,” she said. “Thank you very much. Think of it! My first date. Just wait until I write it in my diary tonight.” She clasped her hands together between her budding breasts, fluttered her eyelashes rapidly, and then laughed.

“I wish you’d stop calling it that,” Richie said.

She sighed. “You don’t have much romance in your soul.”

“Damn right I don’t.”

But he felt somehow delighted with himself. The world seemed suddenly very clear to him, and very friendly. He found himself glancing sideways at her from time to time. She was looking in the shop windows—at the dresses and nightgowns in Cornell-Hopley’s, at the towels and pots in the window of the Discount Barn, and he stole glances at her hair, the line of her jaw. He observed the way her bare arms came out of the round holes of her blouse. He saw the edge of her slip strap. All of these things delighted him. He could not have said why, but what had happened in George Denbrough’s bedroom had never seemed more distant to him than it did right then. It was time to go, time to meet Ben, but he would sit here just a moment longer while her eyes window-shopped, because it was good to look at her, and be with her.

[...]

Bev spotted daisies growing on the riverbank and picked one. She held it first under Richie’s chin and then under Ben’s chin to see if they liked butter. She said they both did. As she held the flower under their chins, each was conscious of her light touch on their shoulders and the clean scent of her hair.

[...]

She scolded Richie all the time they were picking them up again, and Richie joked and screeched in many Voices, and thought to himself how beautiful she was.

—

• The full story of his ex-girlfriend Sandy and his vasectomy.

“Well,” Richie was saying, “I could make this long and sad or I could give you the Blondie and Dagwood comic-strip version, but I’ll settle for something in the middle. The year after I moved out to California I met a girl, and we fell pretty hard for each other. Started living together. She was on the pill at first, but it made her feel sick almost all the time. She talked about getting an IUD, but I wasn’t too crazy about that—the first stories about how they might not be completely safe were just starting to come out in the papers.

“We had talked a lot about kids, and had pretty well decided we didn’t want them even if we decided to legalize the relationship. Irresponsible to bring kids into such a shitty, dangerous, overpopulated world . . . and blah-blah-blah, babble-babble-babble, let’s go out and put a bomb in the men’s room of the Bank of America and then come on back to the crashpad and smoke some dope and talk about the difference between Maoism and Trotskyism, if you see what I mean.

“Or maybe I’m being too hard on both of us. Shit, we were young and reasonably idealistic. The upshot was that I got my wires cut, as the Beverly Hills crowd puts it with their unfailing vulgar chic. The operation went with no problem and I had no adverse aftereffects.

[...]

“Sandy and I lived together for two and a half years,” Richie went on. “Came really close to getting married twice. As things turned out, I guess we saved ourselves a lot of heartache and all that community-property bullshit by keeping it simple. She got an offer to join a corporate law-firm in Washington around the same time I got an offer to come to KLAD as a weekend jock—not much, but a foot in the door. She told me it was her big chance and I had to be the most insensitive male chauvinist oinker in the United States to be dragging my feet, and furthermore she’d had it with California anyway. I told her I also had a chance. So we thrashed it out, and we trashed each other out, and at the end of all the thrashing and trashing Sandy went.

“About a year after that I decided to try and get the vasectomy reversed. No real reason for it, and I knew from the stuff I’d read that the chances were pretty spotty, but I thought what the hell.”

“You were seeing someone steadily then?” Bill asked.

“No—that’s the funny part of it,” Richie said, frowning. “I just woke up one day with this . . . I dunno, this hobbyhorse about getting it reversed.”

“You must have been nuts,” Eddie said. “General anesthetic instead of a local? Surgery? Maybe a week in the hospital afterward?”

“Yeah, the doctor told me all of that stuff,” Richie replied. “And I told him I wanted to go ahead anyway. I don’t know why. The doc asked me if I understood the aftermath of the operation was sure to be painful while the result was only going to be a coin-toss at best. I said I did. He said okay, and I asked him when—my attitude being the sooner the better, you know. So he says hold your horses, son, hold your horses, the first step is to get a sperm sample just to make sure the reversal operation is necessary. I said, ‘Come on, I had the exam after the vasectomy. It worked.’ He told me that sometimes the vasa reconnected spontaneously. ‘Yo mamma!’ I says. ‘Nobody ever told me that.’ He said the chances were very small—infinitesimal, really—but because the operation was so serious, we ought to check it out. So I popped into the men’s room with a Frederick’s of Hollywood catalogue and jerked off into a Dixie cup—”

“Beep-beep, Richie,” Beverly said.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Richie said. “The part about the Frederick’s catalogue is a lie—you never find anything that good in a doctor’s office. Anyway, the doc called me three days later and asked me which I wanted first, the good news or the bad news.

“ ‘Gimme the good news first,’ I said.

“ ‘The good news is the operation won’t be necessary,’ he said. ‘The bad news is that anybody you’ve been to bed with over the last two or three years could hit you with a paternity suit pretty much at will.’

“ ‘Are you saying what I think you’re saying?’ I asked him.

“ ‘I’m telling you that you aren’t shooting blanks and haven’t been for quite awhile now,’ he said. ‘Millions of little wigglies in your sperm sample. Your days of going gaily in bareback with no questions asked have temporarily come to an end, Richard.’

“I thanked him and hung up. Then I called Sandy in Washington.

“ ‘Rich!’ she says to me,” and Richie’s voice suddenly became the voice of this girl Sandy whom none of them had ever met. It was not an imitation or even a likeness, exactly; it was more like an auditory painting. “ ‘It’s great to hear from you! I got married!’

“ ‘Yeah, that’s great,’ I said. ‘You should have let me know. I would have sent you a blender.’

“She goes, ‘Same old Richie, always full of gags.’

“So I said ‘Sure, same old Richie, always full of gags. By the way, Sandy, you didn’t happen to have a kid or anything after you left L.A., did you? Or maybe an unscheduled d and c, or something?’

“ ‘That gag isn’t so funny, Rich,’ she said, and I had a brainwave that she was getting ready to hang up on me, so I told her what happened. She started laughing, only this time it was real hard—she was laughing the way I always used to laugh with you guys, like somebody had told her the world’s biggest bellybuster. So when she finally starts slowing down I ask her what in God’s name is funny. ‘It’s just so wonderful,’ she said. ‘This time the joke’s on you. After all these years the joke is finally on Records Tozier. How many bastards have you sired since I came east, Rich?’

“ ‘I take it that means you still haven’t experienced the joys of motherhood?’ I ask her.

“ ‘I’m due in July,’ she says. ‘Were there any more questions?”

“ ‘Yeah,’ I go. ‘When did you change your mind about the immorality of bringing children into such a shitty world?’

“ ‘When I finally met a man who wasn’t a shit,’ she answers, and hangs up.”

Bill began to laugh. He laughed until tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Yeah,” Richie said. “I think she cut it off quick so she’d really get the last word, but she could have hung on the line all day. I know when I’ve been aced. I went back to the doctor a week later and asked him if he could be a little clearer on the odds against that sort of spontaneous regeneration. He said he’d talked with some of his colleagues about the matter. It turned out that in the three-year period 1980–82, the California branch of the AMA logged twenty-three reports of spontaneous regeneration. Six of those turned out to be simply botched operations. Six others were either hoaxes or cons—guys looking to take a bite out of some doctor’s bank account. So . . . eleven real ones in three years.”

“Eleven out of how many?” Beverly asked.

“Twenty-eight thousand six hundred and eighteen,” Richie said calmly.

Silence around the table.

“So I went and beat Irish Sweepstakes odds,” Richie said, “and still no kid to show for it. That give you any good chucks, Eds?”

—

Richie and boys

• Conscious of looking queer in public.

Alarmed, Richie put an arm around Bill’s shoulders (after taking a quick glance around to make sure no one who might mistake them for a couple of fagolas was looking).

“You’re okay,” he said. “You’re okay, Billy, right? Come on. Turn off the waterworks.”

“I didn’t wuh-wuh-want h-him t-to g-g-get kuh-hilled!” Bill sobbed. “TH-THAT WUH-WUH-WASN’T ON MY M-M-M-MIND AT UH-UH-ALL!”

“Christ, Billy, I know it wasn’t,” Richie said. “If you’d wanted to scrub him, you woulda pushed him downstairs or something.” Richie patted Bill’s shoulder clumsily and gave him a hard little hug before letting go. “Come on, quit bawlin, okay? You sound like a baby.”

—

• Checking out Bill’s shoulders and back and describing him as handsome.

Looking at Bill’s back, which was amazingly broad for a boy of eleven-going-on-twelve, watching it work under the duffel coat, the shoulders slanting first one way and then the other as he shifted his weight from one pedal to the other, Richie suddenly became sure that they were invulnerable . . . they would live forever and ever. Well . . . perhaps not they, but Bill would. Bill had no idea of how strong he was, how somehow sure and perfect.

[...]

Bill was here, and Bill would take care; Bill would not let things get out of control. He was the tallest of them, and surely the most handsome.

—

• His relationship with Eddie and his love for him.

Richie came bopping down to the stream, glanced at Ben with some interest, and then pinched Eddie’s cheek.

“Don’t do that! I hate it when you do that, Richie.”

“Ah, you love it, Eds,” Richie said, and beamed at him.

[...]

“Oh—you mean it was your idea, Eds? Jesus, I’m sorry.” He fell down in front of Eddie and began salaaming wildly again.

“Get up, stop it, you’re splattering mud on me!” Eddie cried.

Richie jumped to his feet a second time and pinched Eddie’s cheek. “Cute, cute, cute!” Richie exclaimed.

“Stop it, I hate that!”

[...]

“They’ll all pinch my cheek and tell me how much I’ve grown,” Eddie said.

“That’s cause they know how cute you are, Eds—just like me. I saw what a cutie you were the first time I met you.”

“Sometimes you’re really a turd, Richie.”

“It takes one to know one, Eds, and you know em all.”

[...]

“This wise man,” Richie said, “told me this: ‘No matter how much you squirm and dance, the last two drops go in your pants.’ And that’s why there’s so much cancer in the world, Eddie my love.”

[...]

“Put him down,” Beverly said. “He can stay here.”

“It’s too dark,” Richie sobbed. “You know . . . it’s too dark. Eds . . . he . . .”

“No, it’s okay,” Ben said. “Maybe this is where he’s supposed to be. I think maybe it is.”

They put him down, and Richie kissed Eddie’s cheek. Then he looked blindly up at Ben. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Come on, Richie.”

Richie got up and turned toward the door. “Fuck you, Bitch!” he cried suddenly, and kicked the door shut with his foot. It made a solid chukking sound as it closed and latched.

“Why’d you do that?” Beverly asked.

“I don’t know,” Richie said, but he knew well enough.

—

How IT manifests itself to Richie

• Sees himself as the werewolf, who is partly a man and partly a monster that can’t help the way he is.

The movies were great. The Teenage Frankenstein was suitably gross. The Teenage Werewolf was somehow scarier, though . . . perhaps because he also seemed a little sad. What had happened wasn’t his own fault. There was this hypnotist who had fucked him up, but the only reason he’d been able to was that the kid who turned into the werewolf was full of anger and bad feelings. Richie found himself wondering if there were many people in the world hiding bad feelings like that. Henry Bowers was just overflowing with bad feelings, but he sure didn’t bother hiding them.

[...]

Richie chanced a glance behind him as he flung himself onto the package carrier and saw the Werewolf crossing the lawn toward them, less than twenty feet away now. Blood and slobber mixed on its high-school jacket. White bone gleamed through its pelt about the right temple. There were white smudges of sneezing powder on the sides of its nose. And Richie saw two other things which seemed to complete the horror. There was no zipper on the thing’s jacket; instead there were big fluffy orange buttons, like pompoms. The other thing was worse. It was the other thing that made him feel as if he might faint, or just give up and let it kill him. A name was stitched on the jacket in gold thread, the kind of thing you could get done down at Machen’s for a buck if you wanted it.

Stitched on the bloody left breast of the Werewolf’s jacket, stained but readable, were the words RICHIE TOZIER.

—

• IT chooses to taunt him with Beverly and Eddie.

“You hear me, Richie? Bring your yo-yo. Have Beverly wear a big full skirt with four or five petticoats underneath. Have her wear her husband’s ring around her neck! Get Eddie to wear his saddle-shoes! We’ll play some bop, Richie! We’ll play AAALLLL THE HITS!”

—

The final verdict? Richie Tozier is bi as fuck.

#richie tozier #reddie #beverly marsh #bill denbrough #eddie kaspbrak #sandy (it)#stephen king's it #bi richie #bi richie tozier

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derryhawkins · 5 years

Note

it starts getting cold out and richie rocks up wearing mike's blue sweater from st season 2 and eddie can't form a sentence for at least 15 minutes

i stared at this for a solid 3 seconds bc i was like “mike??? hanlon?????? in st???” before i realized,, i’m dumb i’m sorry sfjk but i made this into a little one shot/drabble thing idk what to call it, but hope this is ok (also it’s like…midnight…so like this might be shit)

Gay Panic

It’s the end of November. It’s just barely above freezing. It’s windy as all shit. The forecast for the up coming week is snow, snow, and more fucking snow. Yet somehow the group of seven came up the bright idea of spending their free Tuesday afternoon outside. If one considers their underground clubhouse outside which, for your information, Eddie abso-fucking-lutely does, and that’s the exact reason the sixteen year old is in a few warm layers of clothes with a warm winter hat with thing strings, gloves, winter boots, and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders because he refuses to get sick. Because, then his mother will be on his case and might possibly not let him outside the rest of the fall and winter months, and he can’t have that. The others, of course, are dressed similarly but not to the degree of Eddie.

There’s Bill, with a sweatshirt under a jacket and a pair of fuzzy socks on his hands because he lost his gloves the other day. Beverly, her slightly grown out hair put into the braids to keep her ears warm, a cute beanie on her head. Ben, with warm gloves he’s now lacking because he gave them to Beverly when her hands got cold a few hours earlier. Stan, dressed like Eddie but somehow looks neater and way more put together even though the other boy looks pretty put together, too. Mike, with his own winter hat and earmuff and gloves, and he wears a comfortable looking sweater that all the losers would steal if given the chance.

Then there’s Richie. Eddie shouldn’t really care, but he does, because for once Richie’s wearing normal autumn and winter clothes instead of just a loose jacket over either a Hawaiian shirt or a long sleeve tee that does absolutely nothing against the cold weather. On this rare of occasion of Richie actually listening to his friends and parents about wearing something that’s actually warm, he’s wearing a sweater. And it’s something that isn’t that rare around Christmas time when he pulls out the ugliest sweaters that makes everyone groan and moan and complain - he got one a couple years ago that said, “ask your mom if i’m real,” with a winking Santa Claus just to wear it around Eddie - but this isn’t just an ugly Christmas sweater.

Well, it is, Eddie thinks, but not entirely ugly because it suits Richie. It fits him perfectly. It looks good. It looks pretty. Richie Trashmouth Tozier looks pretty, of all things, and that’s why Eddie is sitting in the hammock with a comic book, brown eyes wide and glued on his long time crush as he obnoxiously greets the others after entering the clubhouse. Eddie wants to speak up, to say something like, “Nice fugly sweater you got there,” but he can’t because that’s a lie.

It’s a nice sweater! On an attractive boy! A boy Eddie has a crush on! And, sure. Yeah. Paired with the glasses, Richie also looks like a big fucking nerd. But a cute one. A cute nerd Eddie suddenly wants to kiss so bad that his grip on the comic book is crinkling the pages. And maybe he’s staring too intently or whatever, or something, because Ben is speaking up a few feet away.

“You okay, Eddie?” Ben asks, head tilted to the side the littlest bit.

All the teen can do is smile and nod because that stupid fucking sweater has some kind of effect on him where he can’t form words.

Ben’s brows knit together. “Alright. You just look tense, I was worried for a sec.”

Eddie opens his mouth to say something like, “I’m fine, don’t worry, just scared of getting sick because of my mom,” but nothing comes out so he clamps his mouth shut, gives Ben another closed mouth smile, and lays down in the hammock, ready to get back to reading the comic as the others talk above the low holiday music.

Not even two seconds later Richie is crawling into the hammock and making himself at home beside Eddie. This shouldn’t be a problem - it never it, they’ve shared it plenty of times before - but it is somehow, Eddie’s vision moves from the comic he clearly isn’t reading and to the stupid fucking sweater, and somehow it’s all prettier up close - blues and tans and whites and maybe there’s a little green in there but it’s mostly just blue - meaning Richie is prettier up close - freckles are more noticeable and his brown eyes look deeper and the curls just really add to the look. Eddie’s mouth goes dry but there’s spit building up at the same time, and he’s pretty sure his shoulders are permanently tensed up by now because he can’t relax with his crush looking like that literally right beside him.

“Eds! Don’t you look fuckin’ cozy over here in, what, seven layers?” Richie teases, cheeks a bit pink because of the cold weather, and then he tugs at one of the strings of the hat Eddie’s wearing.

Eddie can only stare. He leans his head back a little to get a better look at Richie as he tries to get words to go from his brain to his mouth, but all he can think is, You look good. Kiss me, please fucking kiss me, can I kiss you? And, well, Eddie doesn’t want to ruin their friendship yet so he stays quiet.

Richie smirks. “Cat got your tongue? I know, I know, I have that effect on people,” he says. Then, he pinches Eddie’s cheeks, expecting the other teen to swat his hand away so when he doesn’t, Richie frowns. “Dude, really, you good?”

He lifts his shoulders and leans back against the flimsy side of the hammock. “Uh…” Eddie licks his lips, some weird sound of ‘yeah’ and ‘no’ morphed together that none of the others can understand.

Richie’s now concerned, and he leans closer to Eddie, which only makes Eddie try to back up more. “Eds, seriously, are you-?”

The weight of them leaning on more than one side than in the middle causes the hammock to flip, in turn causing them to flip. Meaning, they tumbled into a heap of lanky limbs on the wooden floor of the clubhouse, gaining everyone’s attention, and Eddie seriously wants to curse whatever gods are out there for having Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas start to play the exact moment his vision focuses above him only to see Richie’s face inches away from his own.

And if Eddie had any remaining control of his mouth he certainly has none now, because before he knew it - before Richie knew it, before the losers knew it - Eddie is planting one right on Richie for the tiniest second before scrambling out from under the taller teen and jumping to his feet, face beet red.

“I’m gon- uh. I- you guys want… Did- wait. I- fuck. Hot chocolate!”

Then, Eddie’s dashing out of the clubhouse, leaving behind a too stunned Richie and jaw dropped losers.

#asks #anonymous #reddie #it #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #the beginning of have yourself a merry little christmas is v soft so #hope u liked this!!#my writing #it chapter two #the losers club

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fingerguneds · 4 years

Note

hi! could I ask for some stozier fluff, like, stan and richie go grocery shopping ( not established relationship but they both like each other a whole lot ) 💞 thanks!

heyy

thank you very much for your ask, i fucking loved working on this, hope you don’t mind my loose interpretation of your prompt..

Stanley doesn’t like grocery shopping. He hates it, actually: it’s stressful, it’s always about letting people bother you somehow, and it’s totally not worth it when there’s food delivery.

But newsflash sweetie, it’s New Year’s Eve and all the closest shops are bombarded with orders. He can’t even imagine a worse case of spending the last few hours of 2019th, maybe with an exception of having to be with his parents, but whatever. It’s still bad.

So there he is, with bananas, blueberries and two bottles of white dessert wine in his cart he’s sure gonna suck in all alone in his sitting room later this evening, deciding on whether he needs another head of brie cheese, when he notices a familiar mop of black curly hair by the cereal stand.

There’s no way he wouldn’t recognize Richard Tozier from the communication and design department. He’s one of the loudest, brightest and most charmingly gorgeous people in their company, and if Stan ever tells you he hasn’t been having a huge, fat crush on him for the last few months, he’d be the ugliest, most pathetic liar.

He’s a good liar, though. He’s excellent at ignoring his fluttering heart every time Richie walks in their department to share a word with Eddie Kaspbrak, the most pleasant coworker of Stan’s in his personal opinion, or casting his best cold-eye when at parties they accidentally end up sharing a table and the guy, because he’s actually nice to everyone, tries to start an odd conversation about broken vending machines on the first floor or the fucking weather.

Why? Because Stan’s a pussy. He’s already really, really attracted to this black-haired mess of a person, with his ridiculously dark eyes with stupidly long lashes on a damn weird face one wouldn’t call pretty, because of that big nose, covered in bright specks of freckles that burn on cool paleness of his skin, or large, red and plump-lipped mouth; but would totally still define as beautiful, because those eyes are not just dark — they’re the colour of reddish pine bark after it’s been raining for hours; because that skin is not just pale — it’s like absolutely white marble with rare blue veins in all the rightest places of the man’s slender body; because his features, although weird and uncommon, somehow create a loud and charismatic pattern that attracts an eye, that makes you want to look, to inspect, to...admire.

And that’s what Stan’s been doing. Admiring from afar, because he’s a coward, too sensitive to let someone this loveable, loud and easy-going in. He’s too protective over his heart, he doesn’t take risks, he’s too fragile for his own good, and one more thing — even though Stanley secretly thinks he’s better than everyone, there is no way someone like Richie would want to do anything with him. He’s the most adorable with everyone, that’s in his nature, and thank god Stan smart enough to know that and to be aware that he’s not special — that Richie flirts with anyone, holds the door for every goddamn person in the office, checks up on every other stranger in an elevator, and although this still makes Stan’s dick ridiculously hard, he also almost dies on the spot when Richie turns his head a little bit and after a moment of surprise breaks into a grin. Stan, like a good goddamn liar he is, shoots him a quick nod of recognition, throws the bloody cheese into his cart with a bored expression and decides to get the fuck out of this place before his heart decides to break his ribcage into pieces. As calm and collected Stanley Uris is on the outside, he’s just as chaotic and messy on the inside.

He walks towards the end of an aisle as casual but fast as possible, as if his feet are on fire but he’s used to it (which is true, metaphorically speaking), and just when he’s ready to hide from Richie behind another row, something much, much more terrible than bumping into your big fat crush slash occasional wet dream happens to him.

“Stan!”

His heart drops down to his feet, when he recognizes the voice. He keeps walking forward, hoping for an earthquake, a sudden alien invasion, The Judgment Day — anything to save him from this most unwanted encounter, but of course nothing happens. A big tenacious hand still grabs his forearm, making him stop and turn, and this face Stan’s been successfully avoiding for the past couple years still appears in front of him, unchanged and familiar as ever.

Patrick.

See, he maybe wouldn’t be afraid of talking to Richie and making friends with him and maybe even going for more, if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s been in a relationship with one extremely toxic and emotionally abusive man, and although Stan knows all these things, he knows he only terrorized him because he’s an awful person, not Stan, he still—can’t not be affected.

Who in the hell’s gonna love a needy Jewish nerd with a fucked-up brain and a shit ton of insecurities, earned throughout his not-so-bright pathetic faggot life?

Only Patrick, with his huge, kind heart and a perverted kink for losers, lucky for Stan: shaming people for what they are first, than pressing further, and finishing up with messing them up completely.

“Oh, hi, Patrick” Stan says casually, shoulders relaxed, body weight kept on one leg, yet one hand clinging the cart’s holder so tight his fingers turn purple, the other one in a fist, nails professionally breaking the delicate skin of Stan’s palm. “Long time no see.”

Leaving your ass all those years ago is still one of my biggest accomplishments, asshole.

Patrick’s eyes sparkle wickedly and his lips break into a wolfish smirk. Stanley finally notices he’s not alone: to the right there stands a blond man, not tall, seemingly muscular, small blue piggish eyes squinting at him with an alarming amount of hatred. Just what the fuck.

“How rude of me, this is Dean, by the way,” he says, showing up their intertwined fingers. Stan doesn’t feel jealous or envious, to his own pleasure, but he does feel this wholesome wave of bitterness. Assholes shouldn’t get away with all the nasty things they do and then proceed to live their nasty lives like nothing happened, while people they leave crippled and broken still suffer with their demons.

Stan won’t give him the satisfaction. He breaths in and smiles politely.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” he says, totally aware that although he’s the lonely one here, he’s still prettier and, dare he say, smarter than that Dean guy. His mug...his mug is for sure a God’s creation, but boy, did he decide to go off with this one? Yes. And absolutely nothing says mind in those little dirty-blue pools of anger he has for eyes. He looks like someone who would tattoo their first lover’s name on their bicep. And make tik-toks in their truck.

“Nice set,” Patrick, the fucker, senses Stanley’s dominating vibe and makes another elegant attempt to ruin everything he’s been building up. “Here alone?”

Okay, alright, it’s gonna be tough at the beginning, but at least he’s not holding some Dean’s sweaty stupid hand—

“Love, I only found buckwheat pasta, it all must be taken already,” and now it’s time for the third thing to make Stanley discover a lot of new white hairs tomorrow in front of the mirror. Thank God he’s not dark-haired.

Like Richie fucking Tozier, who appears literally out of nowhere, with a pack of fucking buckwheat pasta in his hand, the kindest, warmest look in his eyes behind huge coke-bottle glasses he (of course) rocks the shit out, and a smile Stan’s sure gonna jerk off to for days.

“We could drive to Tesco if you wanna—“ he starts in another attempt to silently offer Stanley a helping hand, but cuts himself off. “Oh, I’m sorry, do I know you?” he turns to face Patrick and Dean with a ridiculous replica of Stanley’s own polite smile, and if Stan wouldn’t be this honest-to-god shocked, he’d definitely laugh at the sight of it.

Patrick looks...scandalized in the most precious way.

“It’s Patrick,” Stan says, thankfully without a tremble in his voice. “We used to date a long time ago. And this is...um, Dean, right?”

“Yeah,” Patrick nods, seemingly taken aback. “My current boyfriend.”

“Oh, my pleasure!” Richie exclaims, grinning widely. “Honoured to meet my man’s old friends,” Stan almost chokes at this, but suddenly there’s someone’s strong hand sliding on his waist, and a solid body, pressing against his side. “I’m Richie by the way, Stanley’s current boyfriend.”

An uncomfortable silence hangs then between the four of them, until Patrick licks his lips in a predatory way, and nods again.

“Alright, we better keep going. It was nice to see you, Stan, have fun,” he almost spits out the last words, and him and Dean quickly leave, just like a mirage Stanley would rather forget forever.

But not the hand, still holding him tight.

“You okay?” Richie murmurs then quietly into Stan’s ear, sending warm shivers down his body. Stan hopes his coat is thick enough for Richie to not hear how embarrassingly rapid his heartbeat currently is.

“Yeah,” he answers, nodding. As much as he hates to do this, he takes a step back, which allows him to look at Richie closely for the first time in his life.

And God he’s handsome.

“I’m—“ Stanley asks, but Richie cuts him off.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and although his eyes are still pleasantly concerned, his lips curve into a small guilty smile. “I didn’t want to spy on you, I just overheard that asshole—shit, sorry, I didn’t mean—“

“No, he is an asshole,” Stanley shrugs, still lying to Richie and himself. Lying that his body’s not still on fire, his brains are not melting into disgustingly sweet puddles of adoration, his palms are not sweaty and his throat is not drier than Sahara. “And thank you for...helping me out, I guess? You really didn’t have to do that.”

Richie looks at him with something Stanley can’t really understand in his eyes, and his smile widens, revealing two big front teeth one would call funny, but Stan honest to god finds them adorable. Like the rest of Richie, really. There’s no point in denying this, he’s gone.

“I know,” he says, and his voice is low, with a slight edge. “I just, I thought there’s no better time than the present, you know, and instead of making another New Year resolution I’m going to ignore, I could give myself a chance right here and right now,” the apples of his cheeks turn an impossibly lovely shade of pink, and Stanley wants to slap himself for being such a slut for this man. He collects himself without a flinch and finally pays attention to Richie’s words and frowns.

“I beg your pardon?”

Richie keeps blushing deeper and deeper in shade.

“Well, you see, there’s that adorable Hebrew in my friend Eddie’s department that I’ve been trying to court for months, but he’s either too dense to notice it, or it’s me who’s dense and is just too preoccupied to take “no” as an answer, you know? So I’ve decided to go off in 2020 and...basically crack my ass to make that boy be more clear, yeah? Because I’m crushing like crazy stupid, you have no idea,” by the end of his ramble, his face is fully red, and fortunately for him, he’s not the only one looking like a basic white tourist after seven hours under Egyptian sun without a hat.

“Did you,” Stan mewls, voice finally breaking like a bitch, but nevertheless, his chin is up and he’s professionally acting like he doesn’t look as pathetic as Richie. “Did you just call me dense while hitting on me?”

“Yeah,” Richie breathes out, and his smile is so sunny, and warm, and relieved that Stan can’t help but smile back, rolling his eyes nevertheless, because he’s what? Still a good liar. “Did it work?”

***

It definitely did, Stanley thinks two hours later, sitting in Richie’s barstool with a glass of wine in one hand, watching the other man cook that bloody buckwheat pasta and listening to his absolutely endearing unstoppable ramble about his secret passion for cooking and not-so-secret passion for Stanley. He really, really doesn’t give a shit about embarrassing himself, Stan realizes somewhere after the words “I got shitfaced and ugly-cried for hours at that party when you left the table exactly thirty seconds after I tried to initiate a conversation with you.”

It definitely did, Richie thinks in the next morning, waking up with Stanley’s curls in his mouth, his back pressed against Richie’s chest and their bodies wrapped around each other under lazy January sun.

i have to say i’m not a huge fan of fake/pretend relationship trope but this specific um turn of events when character a is in an embarrassingly lonely situation against their ex and character b abruptly decides to save the day and then they end up together for real...is the shit

#stozier #richie tozier #stanley uris #ficlet #mine

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thestarsaroundyourscars · 5 years

Note

Can we get a part two of hanzier and the online meeting thing where Richie gets cut off before he finds out Mike also lives in Derry pleaseeeeeeee

It’s been a month but here it is! You can read part one here or read both on AO3 here

Richie’s phone started ringing the moment he walked out of the store, holding popcorn and other snacks in his arms. He struggled to grab the phone and brought it up to his ear in the final ring.

“Why the fuck aren’t you back yet?” Eddie asked in greeting, Richie let out a snort.

“Aw Eds do you miss me already?”

“Don’t call me that.” Eddie snarked with no real bite. “But seriously where are you? Everyone’s here already, except you and Bev.”

“Eduardo chill. I just finished picking up the snacks, I’m waiting for Bev to come back with the movies.” Richie explained, searching the street for any sign of Bev. They decided to split up to make it to Bill’s house faster.

“Well hurry dude. We’re waiting. Hey did you get my⎯”

“Fucking disgusting lemon soda? Of course I did Eds.”

Richie could practically hear Eddie rolling his eyes through the phone. “Don’t⎯”

“⎯call me that, I know. Well guess what, fuck y⎯ Shit!” Richie’s sentence was cut off when he felt something collide against the back of his legs. He lost his balance and almost dropped his phone, managing to keep his grip. The bags he carried weren’t that lucky. “Son of a bitch.” Richie muttered under his breath, staring at the snacks scattered on the floor.

“Rich? What happened?”

Before he could answer Eddie, he felt something wet lapping at his hand, he looked down to see a dog, staring up at him, head lolled to a side. “Hey buddy.” Richie said, patting the dog’s head. He wagged his tail and forgetting about the snacks, he crouched in front of him and the dog started licking his face. “Woah okay, at least buy me dinner first.”

“Richie who the fuck are you talking to?” Eddie asked, voice small and distant coming from phone still in Richie’s hand.

“It’s just a dog Eds don’t be jealous. He pushed me. Yeah he did.” He said, scratching behind his ear. “But that’s okay because you’re cute, the cutest boy aren’t you?” Richie furrowed his eyebrows, studying the dog’s face. “Wait I think I know you, why do I think I know⎯”

“Mr. Chips!” A voice called and the dog perked up, Richie’s frown deepened.

He repeated the name under his breath, wondering why it sounded so familiar. He looked at the dog again and this time it clicked. “Holy shit!”

“Mr. Chips!” The voice called again, closer this time. Richie’s stomach tightened with nerves and excitement and he looked up at the guy the voice and the dog belonged to, confirming his suspicions. “Why did you run off like that buddy?”

Richie’s mouth fell open and he stared at the guy as he kneeled on the sidewalk and clasped a leash on the dog’s collar. His eyes darted from the dog to the snacks on the floor and he frowned. “Shit did he do that? I’m so sorry man, I’ll pay for⎯”

“Mike?” Richie cut in, finding his voice. The guy looked up at him for the first time and his eyes widened comically.

“Richie?” Mike asked, his face breaking into a grin. “Oh my god.”

That grin ⎯that Richie’s computer screen didn’t do any justice⎯ threw Richie for a loop. “I can’t⎯ fuck is this another dream?” Richie asked, shaking his head. It had been almost two weeks since Bev and him had tried the chat room, since he had met Mike. He never expected to see him again in his computer, let alone in real life.

“Another dream? You dream about me?” Mike asked with an amused smile.

Richie’s eyes widened when he realized what he had said and blushed furiously. He didn’t want to admit it but he had actually dreamed that he met Mike in person a few days ago. Before he had to lie about it though, his phone started ringing. “Uh give me a second.” He said to Mike, standing up and answering the call. “Hello?”

“You hung up on me asshole.” Eddie said annoyed.

“Oh sorry Eds. I ran into a friend.” Richie said. Mike grinned up at him and Richie’s stomach filled with butterflies.

“A friend?” Eddie asked sounding genuinely confused. “You mean Bev? Because we’re the only friends that you have.”

“Fuck you Eddie, I have more friends.” Eddie let out a snort. “I do. His name is Mike.”

“Wait Mike? As in the Mike you’ve been whining about for two weeks?”

Richie grimaced, hoping that Mike wasn’t able to hear what Eddie was saying on the phone but based on his slight blush and shy smile, he definitely could. Eddie always had a habit of speaking too loud. Richie huffed, and it was him their friends complained about.

“Shut up dude. Listen we’ll see you soon.” He said and before Eddie could whine and tell them to hurry up, he hung up on him, he knew he would hear all about it later but he couldn’t care less at the moment. Mike was staring at him and Richie tried to come up with something to say but his tongue got all tied up when Mike stood up and Richie had to look up at him. He had guessed Mike was taller than him but he hadn’t thought of how that would make him feel. He tried to gather his thoughts, running his eyes over Mike, blatantly checking him out. But that did the exact opposite. “Fuck man you’re even hotter in person.” Richie blurted out before he could stop himself.

Mike chuckled and Richie could feel his eyes moving over him, he fidgeted nervously wishing he looked better. He knew his hair was a mess, his glasses askew and he was lanky, no muscle where Mike was fucking built. He was pale and his teeth were crooked and⎯

And he had Mike’s thumb running over his cheekbone while he smiled softly at him, making Richie feel like he was melting from the inside. “And you’re prettier.” He said and Richie choked on his spit, cheeks flaring. “Especially when you blush.”

Richie let out a strained laugh. “You’re such a sweet talker Mikey.” He huffed, willing his face to cool down. “What⎯ What are you doing here?”

“In Derry?” Richie nodded. “I live here. My family’s farm is just outside of town.”

“And you didn’t think to mention that?” It would’ve saved Richie a lot of time that he invested in trying to get paired up with Mike again in the video chat website.

“I tried but then the connection fell through.”

“Oh right.” Richie chuckled. “Fucking internet man.” Mike chuckled too and Mr. Chips barked, attracting their attention. “Hey buddy.” Richie said, crouching again. “I knew you looked familiar. Do you remember me?”

Mr. Chips wagged his tail, nuzzling Richie’s hand. “He might. He never takes off running like that unless he’s after someone.” Mike said, watching them with a soft expression. “Sorry about your stuff.” He pointed at the snacks, still on the floor.

Richie shrugged, gathering them and throwing them in the bag. “Don’t worry man. I just won’t tell Eddie his snacks were on the floor or he’ll go on a rant about germs for hours.”

“Was that the guy on the phone?” Richie nodded. “Is he your⎯”

“Best friend since we were in diapers.” Richie said. “I told you I was single remember?”

Mike shrugged. “A lot can change in two weeks.”

“Well that didn’t. And neither did the fact that I’m really gay in case you were wondering.” Richie said, eyes moving over Mike’s chest and broad shoulders.

Mike grinned. “Good.”

“Rich! I have the movies, did you get the⎯ Oh hi.” Bev appeared next to Richie, coming to a stop when he noticed her friend was talking to someone else. Mike waved shyly.

“Hey Bev. This is Mike, Mike this is⎯”

“Mike? Chatroulette Mike?” Bev asked, wide eyes darting between Mike and Richie. “Holy shit.”

“That’s what I said.” Richie chuckled.

“Holy shit!” She said again, louder and slapped Richie’s arm. “Fuck dude, I know you said he was hot as fuck but damn.”

“He said that?” Mike asked Bev but he was staring at Richie, smirking. “What else did he say?”

“He whined and cried for two weeks.” Bev said, Richie glared at her but she shrugged it off. “He would go through a bunch of chats pretty much every day trying to get paired up with you again. He said he needed to find the love of his⎯”

“Okay!” Richie said, high pitched and alarmed, muffling the end of Bev’s sentence but the way Mike’s eyes crinkled at the corners of his eyes told Richie that he knew how she planned to finish it. Richie’s ears felt like they were burning. He fished the keys of his truck from his pocket and shoved them in Bev’s hands. “Here get in the truck, I’ll be right there.”

She rolled her eyes but accepted the keys. “Fine fine but if you get in that car and you don’t have Mike’s number with you I will kick your ass.”

“Go!” Richie said, Mike was trying to hide his laughter behind his hand. Bev waved at Mike and walked away. “I’m⎯ sorry about that.” Richie said.

Mike grinned. “Did you really do that? Try to get paired up with me again?”

Richie scrunched up his face. “Maybe? It’s pathetic I know.”

“I think it’s cute.” Mike said. “I think you’re cute.” He smiled when Richie blushed even more. “I would’ve done the same if you hadn’t told me you were from Derry. I figured we would run into each other sooner or later. I’m glad it was the former.”

“Me too man.”

They stared at each other, smiling nervously until Richie heard a car honking loudly and recognized it. He scrunched up his face. “That’s Bev. I have to go, our friends are waiting for us.”

“Oh yeah of course.”

“Do you― uh. Would you want to see each other again? Maybe go out? With me?” Richie asked, wringing his hands together. He was nervous but he wasn’t going to let Mike go again without making sure they could see each other again.

“Like on a date?”

“Yeah.”

Mike grinned. “Definitely.”

Mr. Chips barked and Richie looked down at him. “Of course you can come too buddy.” He said, petting the dog.

He grabbed his phone and gave it to Mike. He watched as he typed down his number. Because Mike wanted Richie to call him. To see him again. To go out with him. Richie couldn’t keep the smile from his face if he tried. “Here. Call me Richie.” Their fingers brushed together when accepting the phone, making a shiver run down his spine.

“A video call?” Richie asked with a grin that Mike returned.

“Yeah.” He said, tightening his hold on the leash and starting to walk backwards away from Richie, pulling Mr. Chips along. “And if you’re lucky I will take my shirt off for you this time.” He winked and the words made Richie’s stomach coil.

“You can’t say stuff like that man.” Richie said with a strained laugh. “Now that’s all I’ll think about during movie night!”

Mike barked out a laugh, waving at Richie one final time before turning around and walking away. Richie kept his eyes on him until he disappeared. Then he started walking towards his car, wondering just how mad his friends would be if he skipped movie night, locking himself up in Bill’s bathroom to take Mike up on his offer.

Tag list: @daddyphantomtbh @yes-dillman-yes @richietoaster @beepbeeprichiellc @its-stranger-than-you-think @lemonaayyee @losers-gotta-stick-together @tinyarmedtrex @richiefuckfacetozier @sam-i-am2468 @richardtoz @s-s-georgie @reddie-for-anything @eddiefuckinkaspbrak @constantreaderfool @thundercatseddie @captainbartholomew @mirandonsky @proton-disaster-blaster @alargedepresso @purplepoisonedgem @pan-ini @reddie-to-cryy @reddieforlove @trashmouthnick @multi-fandom-wby @wheezyeds @nancynwheeler @did-someone-say-reddie@madi-personal @reddie-tozibrak @lover-mouth @atownofeggs @that-weird-girls-blog @appojoos @castielwinovak @fcngirltrxsh @spirited-marvel @fuck-the-sushi (if you want to be added, let me know!)

@inthebreadbinwrites I’m tagging you because you also requested a part 2.

#hanzier #mr chips is quite the match maker #mike flirts #richie blushes #that's basically it #part 2 #monse writes #monse answers #mike hanlon #richie tozier

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t4tozier · 4 years

Text

Going Home

The clown is gone. Eddie is too. Richie has a decision to make.

Read it below or on Ao3!

Please read the tags on Ao3 for warnings before you read :)

It hurt. It never stopped hurting. Richie drove all the way back to L.A., stopping only for gas. He wanted to get as far away from Derry as possible, fast as possible. But he didn’t forget. Even when he was so sleep deprived he nearly crashed on the highway, he didn’t forget the sight of Eddie impaled on one of Its massive claws. How the blood dribbled down his chin as he took his final breaths. How none of them would let him stay. He wanted to stay. He would’ve died with him. He wished he had.

He tried drowning it in liquor. Drank himself numb. All that did was leave him sobbing on his couch in the mansion that he’d bought after his first appearance on SNL. It had always been too big for one person. He joked that he should’ve bought a shack instead so people didn’t think he was compensating for anything. But it had always been empty. And it felt even emptier without Eddie.

He cried himself to sleep every night. He woke up in the morning with a stiff back from passing out on the couch and eyes so puffy he could barely open them. He had no energy for anything anymore. He got his groceries delivered, although he hardly ate, and slept through most of the day. He canceled all his shows and nobody knew why. The press speculated. What happened to Richie Tozier? He took a trip and disappeared off the face of the earth. He’d missed a show in the summer and never went back. What possibly could’ve caused it? His manager was furious, Richie remembered. They’d had to refund all the tickets. It didn’t matter. Nothing did.

His manager had called him repeatedly. Richie ignored him. Eventually, he stopped calling. He never cared about Richie. Only the money. The jokes that weren’t his brought in the money. He’d never been allowed to write his own material, not since he’d signed. The thought made him burst into tears again, remembering how Eddie could tell. He could always tell when Richie wasn’t Richie. When he was sunken into himself, subdued. He still made everyone laugh. That was his job. His specialty. Richie Trashmouth Tozier. But Eddie could tell just by the way Richie’s eyes didn’t light up when he cracked a joke about Eddie’s mom. He didn’t have to be Trashmouth Tozier with him. He could just be Richie. He’d never been more comfortable with anyone than he’d been with Eddie.

He’d had a fleeting crush on Connor. Always Connor, never Bowers. He hadn’t known. Not until that day at the arcade. Get out of here, you fucking faggot. You didn’t tell me this town was filled with little fairies. He was putting on a show for his cousin, Richie was sure of it. Even as a thirteen-year-old, he could see it. But for the rest of that summer, every time he saw him he got a sour taste in his mouth. He didn’t like him after that. He’d been comfortable with him, too. But it was nothing like how Eddie had made him feel.

He’d been scared for anyone to know. The whispers in town of what happened to boys who touched boys. They’d know. If he touched the other boys, they’d know his secret. But he couldn’t keep his hands off them. Not even just Eddie. Mike, Ben, Bill, Stan—he touched them more than Bev. Not because he didn’t love Bev as much as the rest of them, but because she didn’t like to be touched. So Richie’s constantly seeking hands found the curves of Ben’s stomach, the dips of Bill’s waist, Stan’s soft curls and Mike’s strong biceps. He loved them all in the purest way, strong and clear and true. That was a love that he craved, that he shouldn’t be ashamed of but still was. These gentle touches found themselves in the dark, in the safety of the clubhouse or the empty barn. The only one who always responded with a snarky comment along with a dusty blush was Eddie. Richie never saw the latter. He only heard the stop, the don't touch me, the I hate it when you do that. It hurt, more than if anyone else had said it, because by thirteen and a half, Richie knew that he was utterly and deeply in love with Eddie Kaspbrak.

He’d looked at girls like that before. They were pretty. Hot, even. He’d stolen a porn magazine from the pharmacy once and spent hours poring over it. He liked girls a lot, there was no doubt about that. But they weren’t Eddie. Eddie was different. Eddie was a spitfire and a hypochondriac and if anyone had asked Richie who he thought he was going to like it wouldn’t have been him. But it didn’t matter who he thought he could maybe like, because he knew he liked Eddie more than he’d ever like anyone else. He did stupid shit to get his attention, like mouthing off in class and cycling in circles so fast he fell off his bike and had to get stitches in his chin. Eddie had been ripshit that day, going on and on about how many infections he could get and how he was going to have to take care of him because he knew Richie wouldn’t do it the right way and he was always getting into shit and why would he do that? And even though his face was bright red as he ranted, his eyes were shining with tears because Richie had gotten hurt and it looked really bad. And Richie just watched, for once saying nothing because he could listen to Eddie talk for hours. How could a boy be so pretty? He never understood that. Girls were pretty. Boys were handsome. Or strong. And Eddie was both of those things, too, but he was so pretty. He had a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose, and Richie had never been a fan of his own until he saw Eddie’s. His skin was smooth and he somehow never had acne, which was crazy because he was on the freshman track team and Richie saw how much he sweat when he ran and even that was pretty, which he didn’t understand either. When Richie sweat, he looked—well, he didn’t look good. But Eddie just looked prettier. It wasn’t fair. And seeing him standing there, with tears in his eyes, had Richie’s chest aching with something he couldn’t describe.

It ached now, too. It felt like he’d been the one to be impaled. Richie found himself rubbing his chest often, something he’d never done before. The ache was deep down, and no amount of booze or weed or coke—he’d done coke until his nose bled and he couldn’t remember where he was—could drown it out. He wished he could do something—anything—to bring Eddie back. But he couldn’t. It was something that had taken him too long to come to terms with. He couldn’t bring Eddie back. But there was something he could do.

Once Richie set his mind to something, he stuck to it until it ended, for better or worse. That was how he found himself in his car, driving all the way back to Derry. Maybe if he was in Derry, it would work. It was crazy, but they’d been terrorized by an inter-dimensional killer clown for decades. Crazier things had happened.

——————————————————————————

When Richie arrived in Derry, he didn’t tell a soul. It wasn’t like he had anyone to tell. Bill and Mike were in Florida, Ben and Bev were sailing somewhere on their boat with their dog, and Stan and Eddie...Richie laughed dryly. Stan and Eddie were no help to him now. Not anymore. They’d all exchanged phone numbers before leaving Derry, but Richie never called. Never texted. They had their own lives, their own loves. Why should he bother them when he was so coked up he couldn’t find his way home, or when he slit his left wrist and then frantically pressed a towel to it as he drove himself to the hospital because going out like Stan did would’ve been too much for his soul to bear? They didn’t need the burden of his life on their consciences. They were better off without him anyway.

Richie parked his car and turned it off, leaving the key on the seat. Vandals could have it, for all he cared. He didn’t need it anymore. He got out and stuck his hands in the pockets of his hoodie—Eddie’s hoodie. He’d taken his clothes home with him when he left the first time. Nobody else was going to wear them. Sure, most of it didn’t fit—even as an adult, Eddie was 5’9” to Richie’s 6’1”—but he had a few sweatshirts that were just fine. Richie made himself cry over and over imagining a life where he got to see Eddie wearing them every day. Walking sleepy-eyed into the kitchen in a hoodie and boxers as Richie tried and failed to make pancakes, wrapping his arms around his waist and pressing soft kisses to the back of his neck—

Richie grabbed the railing and stepped over the side. It was thin and unstable, and he wobbled as he looked down at the rushing water below. He ran his fingers along the splintered wood on the other side and made a choked sound when he felt it. R + E, carved by a terrified thirteen-year-old boy when he didn’t want anyone to know the way his chest ached with love when he thought of his best friend. Recarved in a silent declaration to the man to whom he was never able to say it out loud. He ran his fingers over it again and let out a shaky breath. He didn’t know if there was a Heaven, or a Hell. He didn’t believe in the whole all gays go to Hell thing. That’s not what he was worried about. He was worried about Eddie. If there wasn’t a Heaven—and Eddie went to Heaven, Richie knew that—if there wasn’t one, then this was for nothing. Almost. At least all the pain would be over. But if there was a Heaven, then Richie would see him again. He would get to be with him. He could confess his love and they could be together for eternity in the afterlife. And Stan; he could even see Stanley again. Bird-watching, puzzle-doing, got-pegged-by-his-wife Stan. There was no downside to it. Richie couldn’t see one. Everything would be fixed when he did this. Everything would be better. Richie closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and then he let go.

——————————————————————————

The first thing Richie saw was light. Well, the first thing he saw was red, really. The backs of his eyelids were bright red. When he opened his eyes, though, he saw light. He couldn’t make out a single detail. He could hear something, though. Just barely.

“Richie?”

Richie frowned and pushed himself up. He looked around, trying to find the source of the voice. His stomach dropped when he realized where he was. It didn’t work. He seemed to have washed up on the shore of the quarry. But he didn’t feel like his body was broken into millions of pieces by the rocks off the kissing bridge. He had pushed himself up. He could look around and it didn’t hurt.

“Richie?”

There it was again. The voice. Where was it coming from? Who was it coming from? He pushed himself to stand and began walking. He should’ve been more concerned that it didn’t hurt, but now he was focused on finding the voice. He kept walking until he reached the top of the cliff, every so often hearing the voice call out softly. “Who are you? Where are you? What do you want?” he begged, looking out at the quarry.

“Richie,” the voice breathed behind him, and Richie spun around to face it. He stared for a moment before falling to his knees with a sob.

“It’s you. It’s you.”

Eddie stood in front of him with a mixture of elation and horror. It contorted his face in a way that made Richie laugh between his sobs. He was standing proud, eyes bright as they swam with tears. He didn’t have any scar from Bowers stabbing him, and there was no claw ripping through his chest. No gaping hole in the center like Richie had seen in his nightmares over and over. But maybe that was due to Eddie being fifteen again.

The boy stepped forward—stumbled, really—and then fell to his knees in front of Richie. Eddie wrapped his arms around him as he sobbed, rocking him back and forth. “It’s me. I’m here. I’m here, Rich.” He pressed Richie’s head to his shoulder, stroking his hair, and all of a sudden Richie felt very small.

“Am I dead?” he whispered, and Eddie’s lack of response was all he needed to hear. Richie took a gasping breath of relief. This wasn’t a dream. He was dead, really dead. And Eddie was right here with him.

“Why, Richie?” Eddie whispered, continuing to rock with him. “Why did you do it?” Richie could feel the top of his head begin to get damp with the other boy’s tears. He grabbed the back of his shirt and took a few deep breaths before he could respond.

“I couldn’t live without you. I couldn’t live in a world where I remembered you and you weren’t there. I remembered everything. How your eyes crinkled when you laughed. How your hair had gold streaks in it in the sun. How your voice did that thing where it went up when you got mad and then you got mad that your voice went up so it got even higher. How your lips looked so soft that I always wanted to kiss you but I was always scared that you’d slap me or something so I never did—”

And then Eddie was kissing him, his lips just as soft as Richie’d imagined they would be, and his glasses were chunkier than they used to be and bumped against Eddie’s face. Richie took them off and barely had enough time to recognize that they were his old ones before they were kissing again. Their hands were in each other’s hair and it was clunky and messy just like it would’ve been if they were teenagers because they were teenagers now and that made him pull back. “Do we get to stay like this?” Eddie grinned and nodded. “Forever?” He nodded again, and kissed Richie softly.

“I don’t know what happened between dying and coming here, but we’re alive and healthy and nothing’s wrong here. Not anymore.” Eddie stroked Richie’s face, laughing through his newly-forming tears. “I hate to say I’m happy—no, beyond happy to see you, Rich. I hate that you did this to yourself...but I missed you.” He pressed his forehead to Richie’s and sniffled. “I missed you, Richie.”

“I missed you too,” Richie whispered, then pulled back again. “Wait. Stanley?”

“He’s here,” Eddie confirmed with a grin. “We can go see him, if you want. It’s not just the quarry. We have all of Derry...but it’s not like how it was when we were there. It’s better. Just us. We have the whole town to ourselves.”

Richie wiped away more tears. Stanley. He laughed and nodded. “Okay. We can go. But hold on just one second.” He slipped his glasses on and cupped Eddie’s face, taking it all in. His freckles, the specks of gold in his brown eyes that matched his hair, his plush lips. The corner of Richie’s own lips quirked up and he kissed the other boy again. “Okay. Now I’m ready.”

Eddie helped Richie stand, looking up at him. “You did grow into your looks, like Bev said—in a scruffy sort of way,” he said fondly, making Richie laugh. “But I missed this. Your lankiness. And your big glasses. You always looked a little bug-eyed, but I thought it was cute,” he admitted. Richie’s eyes widened, and Eddie giggled. “Like that. Cute, cute, cute!”

“Hey, that’s my line!” Richie protested, his cheeks pink as Eddie reached up to pinch them. He laughed. God, he’d missed him. He missed the banter that came easy as breathing. He knew then more than ever that he’d made the right decision. This was all he’d ever wanted.

Eddie linked Richie’s pinkie with his own and began swinging it, as they started walking, nudging his shoulder. “Come on, Rich. Let’s go home.”

Home, Richie thought, smiling as Eddie leaned his head on his shoulder. You were always my home, Eddie. I’m already there.

#richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #long post #beckett writes #it fic #reddie #self harm tw #suicide tw #alcohol mention #alcohol tw #drugs cw #drugs tw #self harm mention

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askpolylosersclub · 5 years

Note

Richie what about Eddie captured your attention? Loving him since fourteen years old?

We started dating at fourteen.

I've loved him since way before then.

I think he's just...perfect. I know that sounds dumb and cheesy but that's just how it is. I always thought that he was prettier than any of the girls I knew at school, with his cute little freckles and his floofy hair and how tiny he was.

But he always laughed at all of my jokes, too, you know?

And not in the same way that Bill or Stan would laugh at them, either. Eddie would always laugh like he was laughing for me, not at me...if that makes any sense. Probably not.

But he took care of me, too. I know we argue and get on each other's nerves but that's just love, bitch. That's what it's like. I love the way he moans at me to get a haircut sometimes. I love the way he tells me to shut up when I'm being annoying. I love the way he complains when I'm doing something gross because do you know what? People don't do that shit unless they really care about you.

Eddie fucking Kaspbrak is perfect in every single way and anyone who thinks otherwise can catch these motherfucking hands. And I am not a fighter. But I will fight you.

For Eddie.

- Rich

#askpolylosersclub #askthelosersclub #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #reddie

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fuckcanontbh · 4 years

Text

confessions in plain sight *stozier*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Rich-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Called that one."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Did you mean all of that?"

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

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

"Bev, that bitch."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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moonlightrichie · 5 years

Photo

Why Did the Cute Guy Cross the Road?

A repost of my Reddie meet-cute. Wanted to post it properly on here.

Summary:

Richie is really out there falling in love with any cute guy who smiles at him, even when said cute guy is just crossing the street.

Word Count: 4722 Pairing: Reddie

READ ON AO3 HERE

Richie Tozier was 25 years old. He had a steady job at the radio station, cracking funny (anyone else would say bad) jokes, playing music, doing his voices, getting listened to by thousands every day. He lived in his own apartment, had his own car and cooked his own food. He had great friends. He would go out drinking with Ben, Bill and Stan every Friday, eat lunch with Beverly every Wednesday, and spend time with the four of them together every Sunday. They would watch movies, go bowling, go on drives, picnics, whatever they felt like doing that day. It was nice to have the routine.

In a way you could say he had his shit together, living his best life, doing pretty well. He was making money, being social, eating semi-healthy, and even sometimes working out when he had the time (he couldn’t believe it either). And in a way it was also true. There were parts of his life he really had going for himself. His friends would agree on this.

There was only one thing Richie did not have going for himself. When it came to his love life, all of his friends would tell you he was a mess. At least three times a month, he would call the four of them in their group chat and tell them he had met the love of his life. A girl he locked eyes with at the supermarket, a guy who had smiled at him on the train, a girl who had let him cut in line at Starbucks, all people Richie had claimed to be in love with. Then Richie would talk about them non-stop for the next three days before inevitably forgetting them, and repeat. It was getting ridiculous.

Richie knew himself that his love life was a mess. He just didn’t want to admit it. All his friends were in stable relationships and were planning their futures. Beverly had just moved in with Ben, Bill and Audra were engaged, and Stan and Patty were getting a dog together. All Richie had was a goldfish named Deborah. He had decorated her fish bowl with all sorts of nice things. There was a tiny house with a blue seashell ceiling, some cute seaweed in Deb’s little fish garden, white sand, three pink rocks. He was pretty proud of it. He wanted to buy a big aquarium at some point with salt-water fish, he thought they were prettier, no offense to Deb.

He was still waiting for the perfect person to meet, and just knowing, really knowing, that they were the one. Sure, he always told his friends that he was certain he had met the love of his life, even tricking himself into believing it sometimes, but deep inside he knew that no, of course not. Eye contact wasn’t enough to know if someone was the right person for him, and he wasn’t stupid enough to actually think that either, no matter what his friends thought.

Richie decided then, as he was driving on his way home from work, that he wasn’t going to tell his friends that he had met his soulmate until he was absolutely sure.

The sun was in its final moments before setting, lighting up the world around him in golden tones. It was undeniably beautiful, and his stupid lovesick brain couldn’t help but think how perfect it would be to meet someone with the sun looking like that. It seemed like he couldn’t ever stop imagining romantic scenarios.

A soft tune was playing on the radio, something he hadn’t heard before. The melody really fitted with the sun’s warm embrace. Sunlight reflected in the windows of the buildings around him, enveloping him like a blanket, and he smiled.

So what if he was single. He was happy, content with how his life was, and damn it if he wasn’t going to enjoy it. The love of his life would come into his life when the time was right.

With that thought swirling around in his head and the sun shining into his eyes, he almost didn’t see the man waiting to cross the street. He was looking right at Richie’s car, obviously waiting to see if he would stop for him. Richie slowed down; barely managing to stop in front of the crossing, noticing the man was probably around his age. The man locked eyes with him, tan skin glowing in the sun, soft blonde locks moving with the wind, and Richie was entirely mesmerized.

Angel. That was the only word coming to mind as the glow from the sun surrounded the man’s head like a halo, turning his blonde hair golden. And then the man smiled, cheeks round, freckles dusted across his nose. Finally regaining control over his facial muscles, Richie managed a smile in return. He grabbed his sunglasses and moved them up into his curls, squinting at the man before putting both his hands back on the wheel.

With sparkling eyes and pink lips quirked upwards, the man nodded in gratitude, and Richie grinned wider, showing his teeth. The man’s gaze drifted off as he started crossing the road, and Richie was in love.

In an instant, everything was in slow motion. The man took a step, a slight bounce to it, arms swinging faintly by his sides. The sun disappeared behind him as he strode in front of it, blocking the light and creating a silhouette comparable to one of a Greek god. His pink denim jacket fit perfectly around his shoulders, the color of it making his tanned skin glow. As the sun once again emerged behind his head, the blonde waves looked platinum in the brightness.

The man was about halfway across the road when he turned his head to meet Richie’s eyes once more, eyes gleaming cheekily, almost as if he knew he had Richie’s full attention. His cheeks were a rosy color, smile still ghosting over his lips, and Richie couldn’t do anything but stare.

He knew he probably looked ridiculous, being so obvious with his staring, glasses in his chaotic hair, squinting through the sunlight.

It seemed like a lifetime had passed when the man took his last step over the road. He took a last glance at Richie, smiling shyly. Richie returned the smile; more reserved this time, realizing with a broken heart that this was when the two of them parted ways. It felt like a mutual conversation had passed between their eyes, both of them feeling the sparks. Or maybe it was wishful thinking, and Richie was being silly again. The man raised his hand then, giving a small wave, a gloomy goodbye. Richie nodded his head, waving back.

The man winked at him before turning and starting to walk away. Wanting to look at him for as long as he could, Richie kept his eyes locked on the man. He had a regal presence in his steps, moving his hips in light washed denim jeans. Obviously showing off, he ran a hand through his hair, sunlight hitting it just right. He definitely knew he had Richie’s attention.

A blaring horn rang through the air, and Richie jumped out of his staring, the sound not making any sense in his trance-like state. He looked in the rear view mirror, seeing a car behind him, an older woman glaring in the front seat. Heat pooling in his cheeks, he raised his arm as an apology. Then he quickly threw a glance towards the man. He had turned back around at the sound, and it looked like he was laughing. Richie smiled sheepishly in return, shrugging his shoulders in an ‘oops’-motion, not letting himself be too embarrassed about it.

The woman behind him hit the horn a second time, and Richie finally managed to react. Pushing the gas pedal sadly, he got the car driving.

The man disappeared when Richie drove around a corner not long after.

Two day went by, and Richie could not for the life of him stop thinking about the beautiful man he had seen. Kind of ironic how just seconds before the two of them had locked eyes, he had promised himself to not tell his friends about the new love of his life until he was absolutely certain it was real.

He had picked up his phone more times than he could count, finger hovering over the call-button on the group chat before sulkily deciding not to. With tingling fingers and bouncing legs, he had sat through lunch with Beverly, biting his bottom lip several times to stop himself from spilling everything. He had gotten questionable glances from her all throughout the meal, obviously not being as discreet as he had hoped. She hadn’t asked about it.

On Friday night, now four days since he’d seen the beautiful man, he had gone out with Ben, Bill and Stan to their favorite bar, just like they always did. He had to restrain himself from drinking too much, knowing he would burst if he passed a certain point of intoxication. They had all been looking at each other in confusion when he kept zoning out, fingers tapping unsteady rhythms on his pint glass.

Then Sunday came, and all five of them together with Patty and Audra decided to have a barbeque in the summer sun. They decided to have it at Stan and Patty’s house, as they were the only ones with a back yard. Six days had passed since Richie had fallen in love with the man crossing the street, and he was still very much infatuated. Usually his small stupid crushes on strangers only lasted about three days, but this time he couldn’t stop thinking about the guy.

He knew he was close to cracking, and having to spend the day with all of his friends and their lovers, he just figured he wouldn’t last even for an hour.

They were all eating hamburgers and drinking red wine around Stan and Patty’s garden table when Richie finally cracked. Ben was telling a story about his day at work, and everyone was laughing, and so was Richie, but he didn’t really follow.

“And then he takes out a box from the fridge and says: ‘I’m so tired of people leaving their leftovers to rot in our fridge’ and something about having seen it lay there for a month. And that’s when I recognize it as my box of strawberries that I had brought with me a month ago and forgotten about”, Ben laughed.

“No way”, Stan said.

“And I’m just, like, holy shit, but instead I just nod my head and say: ‘I know, right? I can’t believe someone would do that’, and then he throws the entire box in the trash. And sure, I don’t want the strawberries, but the box was mine from home, so as soon as he walks away, I go over to the trash to pick it up.”

“I feel like I know where this is going”, Audra laughed.

“And just as I’m holding the box, he actually comes back around the corner with a co-worker.”

“Oh no”, Patty said, putting her hands in front of her face.

“And he looks at me, and down on the box I just picked up from the trash, and I say ‘I knew I recognized that box’, and he just laughs and shakes his head, but seriously I thought I was going to die from embarrassement.”

Everyone continued laughing around the table, and Richie laughed with them, deciding now was the time.

“Uhm.” He cleared his throat. “Guys,” he said, getting their attention. “I have to tell you something I’ve been dying to say for almost a week now.”

Beverly raised her eyebrows over her wine glass. “Good news, I’m hoping?”

“Totally.”

“So what is it?”

“Okay, so six days ago.” He paused for suspense, because he liked to be dramatic like that. “I met…” He held up a finger. “… The love of my life.”

Beverly, Stan and Bill all groaned at the same time.

Audra gasped. “Wow, Richie, that’s so great!”

“I know, thank you.” Richie smiled at her.

“No, he does this all the time”, Stan sighed.

“Honestly surprised he hasn’t mentioned it until now”, Beverly said.

“Yeah, I’m impressed, Ruh-Richie”, Bill added.

“Okay, first of all, rude.” Richie leaned back in his chair, pretending to glare at his friends. “Second of all, I haven’t even told you about him yet.”

They all sighed fondly at him.

“Okay, well, did you at least get his name this time?” Stan asked.

Richie stopped for a second, considering his options. “Uhm, yes.” Lying was probably a mistake.

“What’s his name then?”

As soon as the question was out of Stan’s mouth, every single boy-name in existence disappeared from Richie’s brain. He couldn’t even remember his own name in that moment. For some reason the only word coming to mind was ‘pencil’. Yup, definitely a mistake.

“Uhm,” he fumbled. “Edmund?”

Stan narrowed his eyes. “Why did you say it like a question?”

“Uhm…”

“His name is not Edmund.”

“Hey, his name could totally be Edmund.”

“Oh, my God”, Beverly rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “So you don’t know his name, but how did you meet then?”

“Okay, so we didn’t technically meet, but…”

“No, stop”, Stan interrupted. “This is going to be one of those ‘I locked eyes with a cute guy while grocery shopping, and now I’m in love with him’ things. And Richie, I know you’re a hopeless romantic and believe in all that ‘love at first sight’-stuff, but you do realize love doesn’t actually work that way, right?”

Patty grabbed Stan’s hand. “Babe, don’t be so harsh”, she said softly.

“No, he needs to hear this”, Stan replied, but kept a hold on her hand. “Richie, you know we’re totally rooting for you to find someone, and will support you one hundred percent when you do. But just because you see someone cute and they smile at you, that doesn’t mean they’re the love of your life. You need to at least talk to them before you decide.”

Richie exhaled tiredly, prepared for a negative response, but definitely not for a lecture. “Listen, Stan, I know that, okay?” He opened his mouth and closed it again, feeling pretty dumb, not really knowing what to say. “I just had a different feeling in my stomach this time. I know I’ve told you guys I’ve met my soulmate more times than I can count, but I’m not stupid. Of course I know that I don’t actually love them, but something was special this time, I could feel it.”

“Why don’t you tell us about him?” Patty said, smiling warmly.

Richie looked over at Stan with raised eyebrows, waiting for approval to continue. Stan sighed, but then his lips stretched out in a smile. “Tell us, Richie.”

Instantly, Richie’s eyes lit up like fireworks. “Of course, Stan the man, your wish is my command.”

“It’s not really a wish…”

“It was a beautiful Monday evening”, Richie interrupted loudly, “and I was driving on my way home from work, and I get to a crossing. And there stands the fucking most beautiful man I have ever seen, even more beautiful than you, Stan the Man,” Richie winked at him, “and he looks like this Greek god, like, absolutely stunning. And he smiles at me in gratitude for stopping, and I swear to Jesus, he was swinging his hips knowing he had my attention, and I am so in love with him.” Richie was waving his arms around while rambling. “Fucking soulmate, I swear. I can’t stop thinking about him.” He fell back into his chair.

A moment of silence passed through the group.

“Seriously, why duh-didn’t you talk tuh-to him?” Bill asked. “If you’re suh-so sure he was your s-soulmate?”

Richie shrugged. “Well, I didn’t want to seem like a creep, and the old lady in the car behind me kept pressing her horn to get me to continue driving, I don’t know, I’m stupid, okay?”

“Yeah, you are kind of stupid”, Beverly said. “But if it’s been six days, don’t think I didn’t notice this is the longest one of your crushes has lasted, and you’re still thinking about him, I feel like that has to mean something, no?” She looked around the table for confirmation. Audra, Patty and Ben were all nodding. “And lets all just ignore the fact that you’re basing all of this on looks, because that would make you seem kind of shallow.” She winked at him. He flipped her off.

“Yeah, you should have talked to him”, Ben said.

Richie sighed. “I know. Every time I’ve passed that same crossing, I’ve hoped to see him again, but unfortunately…” he drifted off, an unsure expression on his face.

“Well, if you do ever see him, promise me you’ll talk to him, no matter the situation you’re in, no matter how awkward it would be, just promise me.” Beverly held out her right pinky, a challenging yet hopeful look in her eyes.

Richie looked around the table. They were all smiling and nodding at him. “I promise”, he said and locked their pinkies together.

The next day came and it was Monday once again. Exactly one week had now passed.

As Richie was driving on his way home from work, he tried to not hope too much that the man would be at the same crossing. With the rain pouring down around him, the wipers going crazy on the car’s windshields, there were barely any people out walking. He didn’t blame them. If he as much as stepped out of his car, he knew he’d end up soaked in seconds.

People were all probably cuddled up with their significant others on the couch, watching movies, and Richie would kill to be doing the same. Just need to get that significant other first.

At this point, Richie was starting to get upset with himself for not being able to find someone. Everything else in his life was pretty great, and exactly how he wanted it to be. Now all he wanted was someone to share it with.

He turned a corner, and he could see the crossing in the far distance. A hope was building in his chest, massive and stupidly unnecessary. There were a few people that could be seen walking around, some even without umbrellas. Some of them looked like they couldn’t care less about the rain while others were running in panic to take shelter.

The crossing was coming up next, and there was someone walking towards it. This person was the only chance to be the man Richie was hoping to see, and he made the decision to drive slower so they’d make it there at the same time. As he got closer, he could see it was a man, and his heart started pounding just a little bit faster. The man lifted his umbrella and looked over at Richie just as he pulled to a stop in front of the crossing.

It’s not him.

Richie tried to swallow down his disappointment, but it was hard to ignore the feeling of his heart falling to the pit of his stomach. He watched the man walk over the crossing, heaviness in his chest.

The street was empty except for his car, and he let himself drop his head to the steering wheel, closing his eyes. Fuck this. He’d missed his chance. It was time to let it go. He sighed loudly, the sound of the rain hitting the roof echoing through the vehicle. The weather certainly matched the sadness he was feeling. It was almost like the sky was crying for him.

He raised his head, his sight of the world blurred by the water on his windows, and pressed the gas carefully, ready to get home and under the covers in his bed. Movement in the corner of his vision caused him to stop abruptly. Someone was just about to cross the road, but had halted just before stepping off the sidewalk as he’d started driving. Eyes met his, and Richie’s heart skipped a beat.

It’s him. Holy shit, it’s him.

The man was holding a rainbow umbrella, the bottom of his jeans wet from the rain. Richie wasn’t sure the man could even see into his car, but a flicker of recognition seemed to flash over the man’s eyes. He then raised his available arm and gave a little wave, a small smile playing on his lips. Richie was in absolute awe.

It’s now or never.

Richie had not prepared for what to do if he actually saw the man again, and a moment of complete panic coursed through his veins. He raised his hand to wave back, smiling widely. Seeing that he had the man’s attention, he needed to get his message across before he looked away and started walking. His wave instantly turned into a point directed at the man. He then proceeded to frantically try to sign for the man to cross the road and wait for him, flailing both of his arms. He mouthed please wait as clearly as he could all the while the man cocked his head to the side, a confused smile on his lips.

Richie then pointed to the bus stop just a small distance away, and the man seemed to understand. He nodded carefully, a small blush seeming to spread over his face. After he had crossed the road, Richie drove over to the bus stop, constantly checking to make sure the man wasn’t walking away.

He wasn’t.

Hopefully no buses were coming anytime soon.

Richie stopped the car, looking in the rearview mirror, seeing the man approaching him. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped out.

The rain soaked through his bomber jacket in seconds.

“You could’ve just opened your car window, you know?”

Richie looked up as the man stopped in front of him. He let out a small laugh. “It was a spontaneous decision, I wasn’t really thinking.”

The man smiled widely. ”You’re the man who stopped for me last week, right?”

Richie nodded. “Yeah, I am.”

“Kind of a cool coincidence that you stop for me at the exact same crossing two Mondays in a row at the exact same time.”

Richie put a hand through his wet hair, the rain fogging up his glasses. “Yeah, I’m on my way home from work.”

The man seemed to remember it was raining, and Richie was standing in the middle of the pour. “Oh shit, hey, get under here.” He waved Richie over, lifting his umbrella to fit him underneath. Richie took off his glasses to dry them quickly before putting them back on. “What do you do for work?”

Richie was freaking out about how good this was going. Being so close to the man made it easy to really get a good look at him. Even without the sun shining, his tan skin still seemed to have a glow to it. With shining eyes and a smile so blinding they didn’t even need the sun, he was looking up at Richie, and Richie sincerely thought he was dreaming. Angel.

“I work at the local radio station”, he replied. “Just cracking jokes and playing music mostly.”

“Oh! That’s so cool. Maybe I’ve heard you on air? I don’t know. I don’t really listen to much radio to be honest, sorry.” The man smiled sheepishly.

Richie laughed. “That’s fine, didn’t expect you to.”

They looked at each other for a few moments, both of them smiling softly.

“What about you?” Richie asked.

“What about me?”

“Are you also on your way home from work?”

“No, I uh…” He blushed and looked away briefly. “I recently started taking piano lessons on Mondays, so I’m on my way home now. I actually considered just staying home today because of the rain, but my roommate Mike forced me to go.” He chuckled to himself. “He knows I don’t really care about the rain, but rather used it as an excuse to not go.”

“Why didn’t you want to go?”

The man shrugged. “I’m not very good yet, and I also forgot to practice the scales I was told to learn for this lesson.”

Richie made a quick decision. “I’d love to hear you play sometime.”

The man narrowed his eyes. “Are you asking me out?”

“I really tried not being too obvious.” Richie bumped the man’s shoulder with his own.

They both laughed lightly. The rain was still pouring down around them, but the sun had just started to peak through the clouds, filling the town with a soft light. Richie was certain that had to mean something.

“I mean, sure”, the man said softly. “But I’m still very terrible at it, just warning you.”

“I don’t mind.”

The man looked at Richie as if he was studying him. “This was kind of a weird way to meet someone.” He was shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe what was happening.

“I guess so”, Richie said. “But I thought you were really cute the first time I saw you, and correct me if I’m wrong, but I felt like we had a mutual moment, so when I saw you again, I knew I had to talk to you.”

The man just stared at him, and Richie started freaking out about revealing too much and probably coming off as a creep.

“I uhm- I can be very forward and honest, sorry if that came out the wrong way”, he backtracked. If he had managed to mess this up, he was seriously going to flush himself down the toilet to float in the sewer with his departed goldfishes.

The man just smiled. “No, I like that you know what you want. And I thought you were really cute too”, he winked, “squinting through the sunlight, being tooted at by the car behind you.”

Richie felt heat pooling in his cheeks immediately. He laughed awkwardly. “You noticed that, huh?”

The man laughed. “I noticed.”

“It makes a funny story though. Might have to tell it on my radio show.”

“I guess I’ll have to start listening to it then.”

“Oh, definitely.”

Silence settled over them, both looking at the other shyly.

“Are you doing anything tomorrow?” the man asked. “I know a really great coffee place.”

Richie broke into a big grin, knowing his semi-crooked teeth were showing, but he didn’t care about that one single bit. “Sounds great.”

The man was beaming back at him just as big. He reached into his coat, pulling his phone out and giving it to Richie. “Just put in your number, and I’ll text you.”

As he put his digits into the phone, he checked four times to make sure he had written the right numbers. He considered saving the name under something lame, but decided to just write ‘Richie’ with a heart-eyes emoji.

“There you go.” Their hands brushed when he handed the phone back over, and all of his body focused on that spot, unable to feel anything other than the tingles in his fingers.

The man looked down on his phone, smiling widely. “Well, Richie, I’ll text you as soon as I’m inside and safe from the rain.”

“I sure hope so.”

Another beat of silence.

“I should probably head home, but I’m really happy I met you”, the man smiled softly.

“Me too”, Richie said. “But I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

“Definitely.”

They looked at each other, and then the man pushed up on his toes, kissing Richie’s cheek sweetly. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

He started walking backwards, and soon after, Richie could feel the rain once again envelop him as the umbrella disappeared from over him. They smiled widely at each other. Then the man turned and started walking away for real.

Richie was about to get into his car when he remembered something

“Wait! I never got your name!” he yelled.

The man turned around, smiling widely. A rainbow could be seen in the distance behind him. “You can call me Eddie.”

“Eddie?” Richie was ready to burst. “Short for Edmund?”

“No!” The man gaped. “Eddie, short for Edward! Definitely not Edmund.”

Richie laughed out loud, eyes twinkling with drops of rain dripping from his hair. “Hey, your name could totally be Edmund.”

#reddie #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #lynn writes #my writing #meet-cute #reddie fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #it 2017 #it fanfic #it fanfiction #reddie fanfiction #it #cute #it movie

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just-jordie-things · 4 years

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I’ll Go With You - Richie Tozier

word count: 13,705 warnings: swearing, death/ptsd summary: Since the day she’s met him, Richie Tozier has been a flirt. And since she babysits Georgie Denbrough every day, she gets used to seeing him around. until eventually they’re hanging out on their own, and he becomes her backbone for support when something terrible happens to the little boy. (In other words: Richie’s been in love with (y/n) since he’s met her, but the timing is never right) ___

[ you’re facing down a dark hall, i’ll grab my light, and go with you // i’ll go with you ]

(y/n) was very close to the Denbrough family. She had been since she’d met Bill in the third grade. But if you were to ask her, she’d tell you that she had a stronger relationship with Georgie than with Bill himself, even though she went to school with him every day.

Georgie was just a toddler when (y/n) was first introduced to him, but no one could deny the instant pull that the little boy had for the girl. Bill had invited her over to play games on a rainy afternoon, and it was all downhill from there.

As always, George wanted to do what his big brother was doing. So he’d waddled his way into the living room where Bill (y/n) were playing Candyland, and begged to play as well.

“Georgie, n-no, go back to-”

“That’s alright,” (y/n’s) soft voice cut Bill off before he could send his brother away.

Georgie locked eyes on the stranger, afraid of her for only a moment, before feeling comfort in her kind eyes and bright smile.

“I don’t mind, why don’t you come play with us?” She offered, reaching her hand out towards the little boy standing there.

Georgie hollered with glee as he made his way over to her, taking her hand and letting her pull him to sit right next to her.

“He d-doesn’t even know how to p-play” Bill argued, a pout on his face, but (y/n) just shrugged her shoulders.

“Well, then we’ll teach him,” She said simply, and let Georgie pick which color piece he wanted to be. “How does that sound?” She asked, looking down at the younger Denbrough.

“Good!”

Georgie wasn’t great at following all of the rules, but he was able to pick his cards and move his character to the different colored spaces, and (y/n) did her best to help him and congratulate him when he did well.

By the end of the rather long game of Candyland, the child had plopped himself into her lap, finding comfort in her arms. She’d made a friend in him in just twenty minutes, and ever since he was inseparable from her.

Every day Billy came home from school he would ask if they could call (y/n) over, and how could he say no to that face?

This went on for three years, until eventually, Bill didn’t have to call anymore. She would just ride her bike home with him after school. Sometimes, she didn’t even hang out with Bill, and was dragged off by Georgie as soon as she walked in the door.

Of course, her being around the Denbrough household so much, she grew accustomed to seeing the Losers Club. Mostly Stan and Eddie, whom she’d known for as long as she’d known Bill. But as of lately, he’s been bringing Richie Tozier around more and more.

She’d known Richie since middle school. The trashmouth had made quite a name for himself, not that he was all that popular by any means, but everyone knew who he was.

She was setting up a movie in the garage for her and Georgie to watch the afternoon she actually met Richie, and had only come inside for blankets and snacks.

There was Bill, and Eddie, and this lanky boy with curly hair and the largest pair of glasses she’d ever seen, they were grouped around the TV in the living room playing video games. She’d politely said hello as she gathered the things Georgie had requested.

“Holy shit Bill, you didn’t tell me you live with a babe” Richie had said, making (y/n) laugh and Bill roll his eyes.

“Th-that’s (y/n). She d-doesn’t live here,” Bill said. “Sh-she’s here for G-Georgie”

“Nice to meet you” The girl said, sticking her hand out, only for Richie to shake it for an excessive amount of time.

“What, you that kid’s girlfriend or something?” He asked, still holding her hand.

She giggled again, and shook her head.

“No,” She said through her laughter, rather adorably. “I kinda just come over to babysit him, I guess” She says.

Richie turns to Bill and Eddie, and in full volume, says, “She’s single?”

(y/n) shakes her head at him, still laughing as she pulls her hand out of his and finally heads off to retrieve blankets.

“You look even better walking away, babe!” He calls, and can hear her snort from the other room.

Bill and Eddie roll their eyes.

“D-don’t hit on (y/n)” Bill mutters.

“What, you fancy her?” He replies in his British Guy voice.

“N-no, sh-she’s like a sister,” Bill answers. “It’s j-just weird”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees. “That was fucking gross”

“I dunno,” Richie shrugged, looking back at where (y/n) was collecting snacks from the kitchen. “I thought she maybe kinda liked me”

“Richie Tozier wants a girlfriend?” Eddie asks with a bark of a laugh. “Yeah right. Come on, let’s go back to the game I was just about to beat your ass”

Richie doesn’t say anything else as he goes back to playing video games. But he can’t help but be aware of every time (y/n) comes back into the house for something.

The fifth time he hears the door open, he makes an excuse that he needs a glass of water, and goes to bump into her in the kitchen.

“Hi” She smiles at him, filling her glass at the sink.

“Hey,” He replies, and awkwardly stands by her, just staring. It isn’t until she’s filled her cup with water that she gives him a weird look. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you keep coming in here to look at me”

“Oh?” She asks, already trying to suppress laughter.

This boy was weird, but… she found it endearing. And cute as hell.

“Yeah” He confirms with a nod of his head, and shoves his hands into his pockets.

“Did you think maybe I just wanted to get a glass of water because I oversalted the popcorn?” She asked playfully.

Richie hums, and pretends to think about it while eyeing the ceiling. But finally he shakes his head.

“Nope, you were definitely looking for some of this” He answered, gesturing to herself.

She bursts out laughing, in a way that almost makes him embarrassed, but then she gives him the biggest smile and shrugs her shoulders.

“Bill has some idiot friends,” She says to him, and takes a drink of her laughter. “But congratulations, you’re my favorite”

“Well of course I am babe I’m the hot one”

She’s giggling when the door to the garage swings open, revealing little Georgie who’s pouting, and crossing his arms.

“(y/n),” He whines, marching up to her and pulling on her hand. “You’re gonna catch cooties, come on I wanna finish Scooby Doo”

She giggles, pulling her hand out of his to ruffle his hair.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming” She tells him, and gives a short wave to Richie while Georgie drags her back to the garage.

“Why did he call you ‘babe’?” Richie hears Georgie ask before the door shuts. (y/n’s) laughing again, and it quickly becomes his favorite sound.

“I don’t know, honey” She answers, but they all know it’s a lie.

Richie just smiles proudly to himself, and finally goes back to playing video games with his friends.

All year (y/n) found herself bumping into Richie more and more. They don’t have classes together, but he makes it his mission to find her in the halls and pretend it’s an accident- when they both know it’s not. And in the afternoons, when she’s meant to be at the Denbrough’s to watch George while Bill goes out with his friends, Richie’s there more often than he used to be.

Bill was almost getting sick of his company. Richie was the kind of person that wears you out when you’re around him enough- and Bill was exhausted.

One afternoon, (y/n) is helping Georgie with his Valentine’s Day cards for his class, cutting out hearts and helping him write the names of his classmates neatly on them. Richie and Bill were supposed to go to the quarry, but as soon as Richie realized that (y/n) was already here, he changed his mind and said he’d rather play video games.

Bill, who had been playing video games for the past week straight, rolled his eyes.

“R-really? Again?”

“What?” Richie shrugged innocently.

“Y-you’ve done this a-all week,” Bill groaned. “You s-say you w-want to h-hang out, and th-then we just stay h-here so y-you can make goo goo eyes a-at (y/n)”

“Who’s making goo goo eyes at me?” (y/n) asked with a knowing smile, and Richie jumped about ten feet in the air as he turned to see her behind him.

“When the hell did you get here?” He shrieked, and Bill laughed at his friend.

“I’ve been here since school let out,” She answered. “Also, there’s leftover candy from Georgie’s valentines” She adds, and then goes back to the kitchen table to help Georgie with the finishing touches.

“Why are you giving away my candy?” The six year old complained when (y/n) sat back down with him.

“Because,” She hummed. “Valentine’s Day is about giving,” She told him. “But you can still eat some of it” She added in a quieter voice, and Georgie grinned as he opened up a Hershey Kiss.

“I can’t wait to give these out” He said, while carefully tracing letters on a pink heart.

“Anyone special you’re giving these to, kiddo?” (y/n) asked in a teasing voice.

“What!?”” Georgie squealed. “No!”

But the smile on his face and his rosy cheeks told her otherwise.

“Are you sure?” She drawled. “There’s not some cutie in your class that you have a crush on?”

“(y/n)! Gross!” Georgie continued to shriek at her insinuation.

“You’re lying,” (y/n) teased. “But that’s alright. You don’t have to tell me who you have a crush on,” Georgie shook his head in denial, and she stuck her tongue out at him. “I already know it’s that cute little girl… what’s her name… Jane…?”

“(y/n)!” George screamed at the top of his lungs in embarrassment, while she just laughed and looked through his assortment of valentines.

“Here it is!” She declared, finding the much prettier-looking card he’d made addressed to her. “Georgie, aw, this is beautiful,” She told him, admiring the cute way he’d drawn more hearts on the inside of the paper surrounding Jane’s name. “She’s going to love it”

Georgie took the card out of (y/n’s) hand delicately, looking at it before putting it back in the pile.

“You think so?”

“I know so honey,” (y/n) said sweetly. “Every girl wants a valentine from a cute boy,” She told him, and then poked his nose playfully. “And you are the cutest”

He giggled bashfully, shaking his head.

From the living room, Richie swore a lightbulb went off over his head, and he turned to Bill with a grin.

“Can you distract (y/n) for me?” He asked.

Bill’s brow furrowed.

“S-sure, f-for how l-long?” ___

(y/n) ended up hanging out at Bill’s house so much and became so familiar with his friends that she was one of them now, and she liked it a lot. She enjoyed cliff jumping at the quarry, and playing games at the arcade, and sneaking out for ice cream in the middle of the night.

She got to know Stan, and that he’s a really nice person under all his eye rolls and sarcastic comments.

And Eddie, the sweet hypochondriac that was afraid of anything and everything that moved.

And then there was Richie, who she came to know so well that you could ask her anything about him and she’d give you the answer. He was a trashmouth with a soft spot, who loved Street Fighter, and being with his friends. He called her pet names, and flirted with her to no end, and he always just seemed to appear around her. And she grew to love his company.

Her phone rang one night, around eleven o’clock. Late enough that she was lucky to pick it up before her parents could hear and ask who was ringing at such a late hour.

“Hello?” She whispered into the phone, holding it close to her ear.

“What’re you doing up so late, babe?” The familiar voice of Richie Tozier questioned, and she chuckled.

“Well, I could ask you the same thing,” She murmured back. “What’re you doing calling so late?”

“To see if you want to go out” He replied nonchalantly.

“Go on…” (y/n) mused.

“Well, I have quite the fucking hankering for milkshakes, so I thought I’d phone up my best girl to see if she’d join me”

She giggled into the phone, nodding her head, even though he couldn’t see her.

“Alright, I’ll meet you at the diner in half an-”

“No fucking way, I’ll come pick you up,” Richie declared. “You’re not gonna walk two miles in the middle of the night looking as good as you do. You’ll get plucked off just like all the other kids in this town”

She smiled and bit back a giggle at his short rant.

“Fine, when you get here just um… throw a pebble at my window or something”

“How romantic-”

“And I mean a pebble, Richie, if you break my window-”

“No worries babe, see you in a bit” He replied before hanging up.

He picked her up twenty minutes later and then they were off to the diner they’d been to a hundred times with the others. But never just the two of them.

Actually, they never did anything just the two of them.

“So this is like our first date, huh?” Richie asked after they’d ordered their milkshakes.

“Right,” She monotoned sarcastically. “Sure”

“It absolutely is, little miss attitude”

“Richie,” She spoke affectionately, but her brows crinkled. He looked at her, waiting for her to continue, but she gave up on trying to find the right words, and leaned over the table to pluck the cherry from the top of his milkshake. “I’m taking your cherry” She announced at the same time, and popped it in her mouth.

“You’re a dork, no wonder you’re friends with Bill” Richie snorted, and she flicked the stem at his face.

“You’re friends with him too” She argued.

“Well you were friends with him first,” Richie retorted, the both of them laughing. “Guess that makes me a dork too then”

She nodded in agreement.

“You absolutely are” She said, almost lovingly, before taking a drink of her milkshake.

Richie smiled back at her, their eyes locked as they sat in silence for a moment.

He’d never really like anyone this way before. The crushes he’d had growing up were fleeting and pointless. He’d never wanted to actually be with someone, not in the way he wants to be with (y/n). His friends teased him relentlessly for actually falling for someone, but Richie paid them no mind.

(y/n) was different. She was kind, and sweet, and beautiful inside and out- she was all of these lovely things wrapped up in a package with a bow on it. There wasn’t a single thing about her that Richie didn’t love.

The diner kicked them out at half past midnight, since they had closed at midnight, and were tired of these kids sticking around.

So Richie and (y/n) leisurely made their way back to her house, Richie walking her home without question.

He was quiet for a while, and it wasn’t until (y/n) realized she’d been talking the whole time that she caught on.

She looked over at him, catching his eyes on her, and her brow furrowed.

“You’re quiet, are you alright?” She asked. “Do you feel sick? Is it a fever? Are you going to die?” She began to tease him, poking his side and making him laugh.

“No- n-no, just th-thinking” He stammered back.

“You sound like Bill now, what’re you thinking about?” She asked.

He looked nervous, his eyes could barely meet hers, and he was fidgeting with his hands.

“I- uh…” He cleared his throat. “I want to- um- holdyourhand”

Richie spoke so fast she almost didn’t catch it, but a smile broke across her face and she reached her hand out towards his, her fingers gently skimming over his.

“You didn’t have to ask” She said softly, and when Richie looked down at her there was a blush adorning her cheeks.

He smiled back, in an anxious sort of way, and linked his fingers through hers.

They talked the rest of the way home, their conjoined hands swinging between them. The walk was longer than it needed to be, not that either were complaining. They were both stalling, and finding ‘shortcuts’ that would add a few extra minutes to their trip.

It was closer to two am by the time they’d wandered back into (y/n’s) yard for her to climb back into her room.

“Thanks for calling, Richie,” She told him. “I had a fun night with you”

He grinned back at her.

“Of course you did babe, I’m delightful”

She chuckled, and didn’t want to inflate his ego anymore than she already had tonight. But she agreed with him anyways.

“Goodnight” She whispered with a sweet smile.

“Night” He replied, and watched to make sure she climbed back through her window safely.

She gave him a wave as she shut off her lights and closed her window. Richie waved back, and took off towards his own house. He already wanted to do it all over again. ___

For such a dreaded occasion, you look beautiful, Richie thinks.

She’s standing in the middle of the Denbrough’s living room, wearing a black dress that falls nicely to her knees. Her hair falls naturally around her face, her poor, grief stricken face.

She’d come over long before any of Bill’s other friends, but the family wasn’t surprised to see her at their doorstep, bright and early for the wake.

When her eyes land on his, she walks over to him right away.

“Richie-“ Her voice failed her as she reached him, and he gave her a sad smile.

“Hey, babe,” He murmured to her. “How're you holding up?”

He knew the answer, but he asked anyways because he cared about her.

“Oh,” She mumbled, and cleared her throat of the tears. “You know, uh, terribly”

He reached his hands out to her, about to step forward and hug her, but he was denied the chance before he could.

“(y/n),” Bill walked over to her, and hugged her right away. “Th-thanks for c-coming this morning” He said through his tears.

(y/n) might have been crying all day, but Bill hasn’t stopped sobbing since he heard the news.

“Of course” She said softly, patting his back before pulling away.

“W-we’re gonna head o-out soon,” Bill said to the two of them. “Shouldn’t b-be too much l-longer”

“Okay,” (y/n) said softly. “You should go be with your parents, I’ll be alright”

“You s-sure?”

“Yeah, Richie will keep me company” She said, and Richie nodded, stepping forward to be by her side.

“Alright, I-I’ll see you g-guys later”

Bill went back to join his parents, while (y/n) and Richie waited around until the wake was finished so they could go to the funeral service.

They didn’t talk much, but Richie didn’t leave her side once, which she was more grateful for than he’d ever know.

When they did go to the service, she asked him to sit with her, which he immediately obliged.

There was quite some time before the service started, where the guests were getting settled, and during this time it took (y/n) everything in her power to breathe normally, and not start crying again.

When the ceremony started, so did the tearflow.

She had to cover her mouth with her hand so that she didn’t make any noise and disrupt the scene, but Richie still caught it.

He looked over at her, a frown on his face at how torn apart she was by this. He was hurting too, he’d loved Georgie and couldn’t believe what had happened, but (y/n) was falling apart at the seams right in front of him.

She turned to him, having caught his stare.

Her hand fell from her mouth, and she wiped at the tears under her eyes.

“Richie?” She whispered quietly as not to disrupt the service.

“Yeah?” He leaned closer to be more private.

“Will you hold my hand?”

Her voice cracked, with her tears in her throat it was hard to whisper and still be audible. But she knew Richie heard her, because he nodded, and took her hand in his, intertwining their fingers and squeezing it gently.

“You didn’t have to ask” He told her softly, and then wrapped his other hand around hers as well, clasping it safely.

He had no idea that he was absolutely grounding her to reality right now. Even if it was a shitty reality.

She was still crying, but the tears fell silently, and her breathing had evened out.

It was hard to watch Bill deliver his eulogy. Harder than watching his parents speak. He was a mess, crying and blubbering, stuttering far more than he usually did. (y/n) wanted to run up and hug him and help him- but she settled on leaning closer to Richie, and squeezing his hands a little tighter.

Richie lifted her hand and pressed his lips to the back of her knuckles, before dropping it back to his lap and running the pad of his thumb over them, a rhythmic, soothing feeling.

Once the service was over, and the guests were standing to either sneak out or pay their respects to the Denbroughs, (y/n) stayed seated.

Richie sat with her, patiently waiting for her to say something, do something. The state she was in was starting to scare him, with her glossy eyes trained ahead of her, and her body unmoving.

“(y/n)?” He murmured, finally gaining her attention, and she looked at him, with the most fear he’d ever seen in her eyes. “Do you, um, want to stay here awhile?” He asked her, “I’ll stay with you, if you do. Unless you want me to go, th-that’s fine too”

“No,” She said quickly, shaking her head. “Please, um, stay, we can go” She said, smoothing out her dress as she stood from her seat.

“Do you want to go outside?” He asked quietly, standing with her.

The grave was already dug and refilled, seeing as there wasn’t much to put there, besides an empty coffin. Other guests had already passed through and paid their respects, many of them bored of the occasion. Children died every day in Derry, the loss of Georgie Denbrough was hardly shocking.

(y/n) nodded, and Richie’s hand laid on the small of her back as they walked out of the funeral home together. She walked so closely next to him that her shoulder kept on knocking into his. After the fourth time she stopped apologizing for it, because he’d assured her he didn’t mind.

Their steps began to slow down as they approached the cemetery, and a part of her wanted to dig her heels into the ground before she could see it. To turn around and run away until she was far enough that she forgot completely.

But she wrapped her own arm around Richie’s middle, and kept moving forward.

There were only a few people left at the grave, and she stopped just a few feet in front of it. The earth fresh on top of it, dirt and grass tousled underneath the pile of flowers and teddy bears.

Her chest began to heave again, and she wrapped both arms around Richie’s torso without thinking about it, clinging onto him tightly. He couldn’t have pushed her off even if he wanted to.

And he didn’t. He held her close, tucking her head against his chest and rubbing her back in circles while her tears dampened the material of his suit jacket.

Bill was sat next to the grave, knees pulled close to his chest. He looked to be all out of tears, and was left to just stare at the marble stone in the ground. It was heartbreaking.

The adults that were left, maybe six or seven of them, were void of emotion. No tears, no whimpers, and the frowns they wore seemed to be unamused rather than saddened. It was heartbreaking as well, but mostly just sparked a rage in (y/n) that she’d never felt before.

“There’s not even a body,” her voice came out in a whimper. “How can there be a grave if there’s no body-”

Richie hugged her impossibly tighter, and rested his cheek against the top of her head as she buried her face into his shirt. She couldn’t bear to look at the sight any longer.

“I know, honey” He murmured into her hair.

“It’s not fair” She wept.

“I know,” Richie said again. “I know it’s not”

He wished he had the magic words that made her feel better, or at least get her to stop crying. But he knew there were no such thing, and that the hurt she felt would linger inside her for the rest of her life. Maybe it’s presence would weaken over time, and she would be able to go about her life, but she’d never forget this pain.

They stood there for maybe another twenty minutes, while (y/n) reflected on every minute she’d ever spent with Georgie, and Richie comforted her quietly in his arms. And when she was ready to go, he draped the jacket of his suit over the girl’s shoulders and walked her home, hand in hand.

She hugged him again at her doorstep, catching him right before he could turn away to leave. It caught him by surprise, she’d grabbed him so fast, but he reciprocated, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close again.

He wanted to hold her all the time.

“Thank you” She mumbled into his shoulder.

“For what?” He asked, pulling away to look at her.

“Just for- for being there, today, with me,” She answered, a watery smile on her lips. “It meant a lot” She added in a smaller voice.

He nodded his head, returning the smile.

“Call me if you need anything okay? Anything,” He told her, and she nodded. “Alright. I’ll see you later, babe”

With that, he pressed a lingering kiss on her forehead, and headed off. ___

It took a while for (y/n) to open up to her usual self. The rest of the school year was difficult, especially as more and more children started to go missing, and presumed dead. But by the time summer vacation rolled around, she’d grown used to it, and Richie could tell she was starting to move on.

They’d decided to go to the Barrens, Bill decided anyways. And no one was about to tell him there was no use.

So here she was, taking off her shoes and socks to walk through the shitty water with Bill and Richie. Stan and Eddie had decided against going into the sewers, finding it repulsive, which was understandable.

But Bill was hellbent on getting to the bottom of all the crazy shit going on, and (y/n) needed answers as well.

Richie only went because he goes where (y/n) goes. And if she wanted to walk through sewer water then… so be it, he was there right by her side.

“That’s greywater!” Eddie hissed.

“What the fuck is greywater?” Richie retorted, picking up a large stick floating in the water.

“It’s basically piss and shit- I’m just saying!”

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to Eds” (y/n) told the anxious boy while Richie threw god-knows-what towards him.

(y/n) gave the boy a look at the action, since Eddie had screamed and was still freaking out as the item splashed in front of him.

“What?” Richie asked her innocently.

“Come on,” She said, reaching out and grabbing his hand before he could bother their friends anymore. “We gotta get going-”

Before they could continue their trek into the sewers, there was a loud scream, and then a splash.

Everyone whipped around, making their way towards the commotion in the cleaner water.

“Holy shit,” Richie called out, seeing a boy there, bleeding out. “What the fuck happened to you?”

(y/n) let go of Richie’s hand to run up to him, helping him out of the water.

“You’re Ben, right?” She asked. “We had algebra together?”

He nodded, unable to form any real words as his hand clutched over his stomach. He seemed to be bleeding profusely.

“We have to help him” (y/n) cast Bill an apologetic glance.

“W-we’ll take him t-to t-town” Bill said, forgetting about searching the Barrens for now.

Richie and (y/n) helped the new boy back to their bikes.

“Thank you, (y/n)” Ben said to the girl, which made Richie scoff, and narrow his eyes a bit.

Before he could make some dumb comment, (y/n) tugged on his shirt and pulled him away.

“I helped too” He muttered, and she giggled as she got on the back of his bike.

“I know” She replied while everyone made their way back into town.

“The fuck does he think he is-”

“Calm down,” She laughed, setting her chin on his shoulder. “He’s a nice guy that needs our help”

He muttered the rest of the ride anyways, which didn’t surprise (y/n) even a little bit.

They decided that Ben would wait outside in an alley while Bill, Stan, Eddie, and (y/n) went into the Keene’s corner store to get supplies to help fix him up.

Leaving Richie and Ben outside.

“Glad to meet you before you died,” Richie said awkwardly, not knowing what else to say to him.

Ben looked up at him with a confused face, unsure what to make of this guy he just met.

“Better not be fucking hitting on (y/n/n) though” He added.

“What?” Ben asked, only getting more perplexed with every minute spent with Richie.

“I saw you two,” Richie mumbled, picking at his fingers while Ben stared at him. “Real chummy-”

“You think I have a crush on (y/n)?” Ben asked with a chuckle. “I barely know her-”

“I’m just fucking saying”

Ben rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue it anymore.

A few minutes later, (y/n), Stan, and Eddie rounded the corner, running full speed with their hands full of medical supplies. Gauze, sticky wrap, bandaids, rubbing alcohol, along with a lot of other useless items.

“Where the hell is Bill?” Richie asked while (y/n) and Eddie got to work on patching up Ben.

“He’s talking to Beverly, she helped us get this stuff” (y/n) said, using almost an entire roll of paper towels to clean up all the blood.

“She bought all this?” Richie asked, taking the roll from her so he could unwrap some at a time.

“No…” Stan trailed off.

“She distracted Mr Keene while we stole it,” Eddie said, putting on a pair of rubber gloves before grabbing the bottle of rubbing alcohol. “I didn’t want to, but Bill said-”

“Yeah, yeah,” (y/n) waved a dismissive hand. “We didn’t have any other choice”

“Damn, you’re a shoplifter now?” Richie asked, smirking down at (y/n) while she was holding up Ben’s shirt to make it easier for Eddie. “That’s hot-”

“Beep beep, Richie” Stan groaned.

“We had to,” (y/n) shrugged. “It’s not like we really wanted to”

Bill walked up a few minutes later, Beverly Marsh at his side, which seemed to make Ben brighten a little.

“Hey, new kid,” She greeted him with a smirk on her lips. “You sure they got the right stuff to fix you up?”

Ben just laughed and bashfully looked away from her.

“Alright alright, let’s get a move on. Come on Dr K, fix him up!”

“Richie, I can’t do shit when you’re distracting me with your voices-”

“Suck the wound! Get in there” Richie said, kneeling right down into the boy’s face.

“Okay, give them some space,” (y/n) said, standing up and pulling Richie back out of the way. “Doctor Eds is gonna fix him up”

“Don’t call me Eds” Eddie muttered while taping a patch of gauze over Ben’s stomach.

“It was Henry, wasn’t it?” (y/n) asked, and Ben nodded.

“Yeah, I was just walking home and they found me on the bridge…”

“Well, you’re one of us now,” Stan chuckled. “All it takes is having Bowers beat the shit out of you”

“W-welcome to the Loser’s Club” Bill said. ___

“I think that Ben has a crush on Beverly” (y/n) said quietly.

She sat next to Richie on a rock at the quarry.

They were all hanging out, with their new friends Ben and Beverly too. Beverly was sunbathing, and (y/n) couldn’t help but notice the boys’ eyes all on her.

Except when she turned to whisper to Richie, his gaze was already on her, and it made her cheeks turn pink.

“What makes you say that?”

“Look at him” She gestured to where Ben sat.

He was staring at Beverly too, but he head his head in his hands, and a lazy smile on his face.

“He’s got heart eyes,” (y/n) giggled, before looking back at Richie. “Don’t you see it?”

He let out an airy laugh, before nodding his head.

“Yeah, heart eyes” He agreed.

It made a weight lift off of Richie’s chest however. To know that Ben really hadn’t been crushing on (y/n) like he’d thought, and actually liked Beverly.

When the day came to an end, and the sun was starting to set, Ben mentioned something about the unusual disappearances in Derry, and that he’d been researching it since he’d moved here.

Richie could feel (y/n) stiffen next to him, her full attention on him as he began to explain the amount of deaths in Derry compared to the national average.

He passed out the few newspaper clippings that he’d had in his backpack.

“Do you have more of these?” (y/n) asked.

“Yeah, I have lots of stuff back at my place” Ben said.

“Can I see?” She asked again quickly.

“Y-yeah, me t-too” Bill agreed.

Next thing they knew, they were putting their clothes back on, and heading to Ben’s pace. Richie wasn’t so sure about this idea, but if (y/n) wanted to know more then he would go with her.

Ben had so much research about Derry that it was taped on his walls. Newspaper articles, pages from books, photographs, anything that had to do with the mysterious vanishings of children, Ben had it.

“Derry used to be known for it’s beaver trapping-”

“Still is, am I right boys?” Richie grinned, holding his hand up for a high five, only for Stan and Eddie to roll their eyes.

He turned to (y/n) with that goofy smile of his, and she shook her head, pulling his hand down.

“Beep beep, Richie” She said quietly, and looked back to Ben’s walls.

He could still see a smile on her lips though.

Ben went on to explain his research while (y/n) was reading. Richie was half-listening, mostly just lingering by (y/n) until she realized this was pointless and they could go.

“Look at this,” She whispered to him, pulling down a particular clipping that she recognized. It was the article that came out when the Denbroughs told the police that their son was missing. “It’s Georgie’s”

She had the same clipping tucked safely in her desk drawer at home.

Richie sighed, taking the paper from her hands, and sticking it back on the wall.

“You’ve read that a million times” He told her carefully, as not to strike a nerve.

She looked up at him, about to protest, but the look in his eyes told her not to. He was only trying to look out for her, to keep her from going through the same torture again.

“You’re right” She mumbled. ___

(y/n) was walking the streets late one night, clearing her head, and enjoying the nice summer weather. It had been a while where she had a clear mind, and it was nice that the only thoughts that crossed her mind were good ones. About her excitement for her classes next year, about her new friends, about Richie, it was nice.

“(y/n)?” A small, familiar sweet voice called.

She stopped in her tracks, looking around in the dark for the owner of the voice.

“Yeah?” She called, trying to follow the sound. “Georgie?” She called in a softer voice.

“(y/n), help me!” His voice shouted now, a panicked sound that made her heart beat out of control in her chest.

“I- I’m coming! Where are you?”

She ran as fast as she could towards his voice.

“Georgie! George where are you?” She called.

But the streets were empty, and she could hardly see a thing.

She screamed his name nonetheless, desperate to find him, wherever he is.

“(y/n)!” He pleaded. “(y/n) please! He’s got me!”

It wasn’t fair, the faster she ran, the further away she felt from him. His screams beginning to sound like echos.

“Georgie where are you!? Georgie!”

“Right here”

She spun around as the voice seemed to whisper in her ear, but he wasn’t there. There was nothing there.

“Hello?” She whispered, her panic for George morphing into a fear of whatever it was that was doing this to her. “What is this? What’s going-”

“Are you afraid, little girl?” It spoke again, but it didn’t sound like Georgie anymore. This new voice was high pitched, and gravelly.

“N-no-”

“Boo!”

Suddenly a clown lept in front of her, which was terrifying enough on it’s own. What made it truly scare her, was the arm that hung from it’s shark-like teeth. A little body connected to it, clad in a bloodied raincoat, and a paper boat in his hands. The arm was beginning to sever, as the clown chomped rather harshly, separating it completely from the little boy’s body.

“Georgie!” (y/n) screamed as his limp body fell at her feet.

(y/n) shot up in bed with a scream, heaving in a cold sweat as the image replayed in her head, on a traumatizing loop.

She was quick to scramble out of bed, and pick up the phone on her bedside table. Her hands were shaking so bad that she almost couldn’t punch in the only number she knew by memory.

But it rang, and a few seconds later, Richie picked up.

“Hello?” He sounded tired, and his voice had that low scratchy sound it always had when he was tired.

“R-Richie- I- I-” Her voice was wobbling and stuttering so much he couldn’t hardly make out what she was saying, just that she was scared, and crying.

“(y/n)?” He spoke, “What happened? Are you okay?”

“N-n-no th-there was- a clown- and his arm- and Georgie-”

“I’m coming over”

“B-but my parents-”

“Babe, I can hardly hear you, I’m coming over”

“Okay” She whimpered, the first word that wasn’t choppy.

“I’ll see you in a little bit, okay?”

“Okay” She said again.

She sat on the floor, between her bed and window, with her lamp turned on so she wasn’t surrounded by darkness. And waited.

Richie showed up in record time- nine minutes- and didn’t even have to knock on her window before she was shooting up from the floor and unlocking it.

“Hey, Juliet-”

He’d barely spoken before she was yanking him inside, wrapping herself around him so completely and fell to the ground.

Her arms were wound around his neck as she was sat between his legs on the floor, her own legs wrapped around his hips, and her face buried into her neck.

“Look babe, I’m used to girls throwing themselves at me, but I can’t breathe” He joked.

She let go of him, still sat on the floor between his legs, and he could see now that whatever happened, had really shaken her up.

“What was it?” He asked, brushing her tangles of hair out of her face. “A nightmare?”

Her eyes fell shut as she nodded her head.

“It- it was so bad,” She said softly, voice cracking. “It- it had Georgie-”

“Who had him?” Richie asked, his brow furrowing.

“The clown,” She told him seriously. “It was a clown, and he- he- he ate him” She whimpered.

Richie was still confused by her bad dream, but he knew that it freaked out, so he continued to pet her hair.

“It’s alright,” He hummed. “It was just a bad dream, (y/n)” He told her, staring at her seriously.

“But- but it was so real,” She cried softly. “I could feel it breathing down my neck, Richie-”

“It’s not real” He whispered. “It’s not real, it can’t hurt you, okay?” One of his hands laid on her cheek, his thumb gently stroking over her cheekbone. “Do you understand me? It can’t hurt you,”

She sniffled, and nodded her head shakily.

“I promise,” He said, leaning in closer. “I know it was scary, but it’s gone now”

“But what if it comes back?” She mewled.

Richie looked at her for a moment, before letting out a soft sigh as he realized she wasn’t going to bounce back from this anytime soon.

“Then I’ll be right here,” He said. “I’ll stay with you, if you want that is”

“You’d do that?” She asked breathlessly, hope sparking in her chest.

“Yeah, of course” He answered with a small laugh.

(y/n) smiled before wrapping her arms around him and hugging him tightly again.

“Thank you,” She whispered as she buried her face into the crook of his neck. “Thank you so much”

“Don’t mention it, babe” He said, rubbing a hand over her back comfortingly.

The girl stayed wrapped around his body like an octopus, and Richie chuckled as he realized she wasn’t going to get up without a push.

“Alright then,” He let out a groan as he picked her up, her arms and legs still clinging onto him. “Come on, time to go back to bed”

She didn’t say anything as he shut and locked her window, and then carefully placed her back in bed, unwrapping her limbs from him.

“Do you want me to turn the light off, or leave it on?” He asked.

“You can turn it off” She mumbled out, and he did so, before crawling under the covers with her.

She stared at him for a moment while he got settled, and it wasn’t until he’d gotten comfortable under the blankets that he caught her. Her cheeks warmed up as their eyes met, and Richie seemed to study her for a moment, trying to figure out what that look on her face meant.

“Are you feeling any better?” He whispered. He was so close she could feel his warm breath on her nose.

“Yeah,” She whispered back. “A little”

“Good” He answered.

It was quiet for a minute as they laid there, staring at each other.

“Rich, can I ask you something?” (y/n) said, shifting nervously under the covers.

“Yeah” He hummed back.

“Do you think that, um... do you think we’ll go missing?”

He sighed, and reached his hand out to grab onto hers.

“No,” He said, squeezing it reassuringly. “We won’t, neither of us- or the others,” He said. “You’re not really worried about that are you?”

“I don’t know,” She murmured. “With everything happening I just can’t help but wonder if it’s bound to happen, you know?”

Richie frowned at her.

“What?” (y/n) asked softly. “I think it’s a pretty understandable fear, seeing as pretty much every other kid in this town-”

“It’s not gonna happen,” Richie said, tone low with seriousness. “Okay? I’m not letting that happen”

She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. She didn’t know what to say, so instead she just moved forwards and wrapped an arm around him, laying her head against his chest.

“Okay” She mumbled back into his chest.

It was quiet again, and she thought maybe Richie had fallen asleep. It was three in the morning, and the rise and fall of his chest was slow and rhythmic, but he spoke up again.

“I don’t know what the fuck I’d do if I lost you,” He said. He almost sounded scared, and it made her heart drop to her stomach. “I’d go fucking batshit I can’t- I just can’t, alright?”

She looked up at him, nodding her head.

“You too” She whispered, a weak smile tugging on her lips.

He barely smiled back at her before she tucked herself back against him.

“Thanks for staying, Richie”

He kisses the top of your head with a featherlight touch, before cradling her close.

She doesn’t have another nightmare that night. ___

The next morning they wake up and head straight for Bill’s. Apparently the clown hadn’t only appeared in (y/n’s) nightmares, and had been torturing the other Losers too. Everyone had seen It, except for Richie, who wasn’t so sure that It existed.

They’d made a new friend, Mike Hanlon, who (y/n) was very fond of, especially when he’d said he worked on his grandfather’s farm. Richie got along with him fine, but he was tired of meeting hot guys that (y/n) could potentially grow more attached to than him. Not that he was jealous or anything...

They were piled into Bill’s garage, while he placed a map of Derry over the projector.

“N-Neibolt,” He explained. “Th-that’s where It lives”

“That’s where I saw It” Eddie mumbled.

“We have to go,” Beverly chirped in. “We have to go kill it, before it takes any other children”

“I’m in” (y/n) nodded.

“What? No fucking way,” Richie chimed in. “We’re not going to a fucking crackhouse, Bill”

Eddie agreed, profusely shaking his head, before taking a hit of his inhaler.

“W-we have t-to-”

“No, we fucking don’t,” He said with annoyed narrowed eyes. “There’s no way that you putting us through this shit-”

Before he could finish, the photos in Bill’s projector began to flicker, all on their own.

“Um, Bill?” (y/n) mumbled, standing up from her seat on the sofa. “Can you stop with the pictures?” She knew deep down that he wasn’t controlling it, but a part of her wanted him to just shut it off.

“I- I’m not-”

The boy’s eyes widened as he watched as the projection zoomed in on a picture of his mother, with her face replaced with the face of the clown that almost all of them had seen before.

“Turn it off!” (y/n) screamed at him now. “Bill! Turn it off!”

The others were watching in horror as the picture grew closer even faster. Eddie jumped up into Stan’s arms, while Beverly, Ben, and Mike were huddled in a corner. No one could tear their eyes away from the image.

“Turn it off!” (y/n) continued to yell, her own fear consumed her. “Turn it off, turn it off turn it off!”

But Bill was just standing there, in front of the picture, almost in a trance as he stared at it.

It was almost moving like a movie now, and the clown was grinning sickeningly at them, his mouth and teeth bloody.

(y/n) was tugged by her arms into a chest, before she was spun around and only had a second to catch a glimpse of Richie before he was pushing her face into his chest, keeping her so that she couldn’t see what was going on.

But she seemed to sense that the demon had leapt out of the wall, because she jumped, and Richie held her tighter, and was whispering into her ear while the others scattered and screamed.

“It’s not real,” He said, over and over, like a mantra. She wasn’t sure if it was to console her or himself. “It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real”

And suddenly there was a bright light, and the commotion and noise halted.

She was slow to pull herself away from Richie, but even when she did, his hands cupped her face, eyes scanning over her body, checking for any sort of wound or bruise.

“You okay?” He mumbled.

She pushed his glasses up the slope of his nose before they could fall off his face completely. Then she nodded her head.

“Yeah, I think so,” She breathed out. “You?”

He nodded back.

“Yeah, I think so” He repeated.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Eddie spoke up, and the pair broke apart, both of their faces equally red.

“We have to go,” Beverly spoke up before either of them could come up with something to say. “Now, while It’s not there. The kids they- they could be there now”

“How do we know It’s not there?” Mike asked.

“W-we don’t” Bill said, picking up his bike and walking it down the driveway.

No one argued, and simply followed on their own bikes. ___

“I knew this was a bad idea, I fucking told you this was a bad idea” Richie was muttering nonstop as he walked next to (y/n) into the Neibolt house.

She had been holding his hand ever since they’d gotten off his bike, and at this point he thought she might have been glued to him. She’d barely spoken a word.

The chaos happened all at once, it seemed. It was a blur.

Richie’s missing poster, Eddie falling through the first story into the basement- it felt like she was trapped in a nightmare.

Richie was right, this was a very, very bad idea.

And suddenly she was knocked to the ground by a strong swinging force, which she didn’t realize until she opened her eyes that was It’s massive arm. She couldn’t get herself to stand, so she weakly crawled backwards away from it as it menacingly walked towards her.

It wasn’t moving fast, it didn’t have the intention to kill her instantly, no. It wanted to scare her first, it wanted to make her feel like she might have the chance to get away, when they both knew she didn’t.

“(y/n)!” Richie shrieked, leaving Eddie’s side to race towards her.

Beverly got there first, screaming at the top of her lungs as she impaled a fireplace poker through it’s face.

(y/n) gasped at the sight above her, blood and black matter dripping both onto her, and floating into the air.

She didn’t know how long she was stunned, until eventually Richie and Bev were helping her up, and rushing everyone out of the house.

She must not have been moving fast enough, because Richie stopped suddenly, sweeping his arm under her legs and carrying her much hastier outside. Once they were on the lawn, waiting for Eddie’s mom to come get him, he’d set her back down.

When Ms K came for Eddie, she went on a whole spiel about how he’s not allowed to hang out with them anymore, before speeding off with him.

Just when (y/n) thought things couldn’t get any worse, Bill and Richie got into a fight.

Mike and Stan pulled Richie away before Richie could swing at Bill, who was still yelling at Richie while Ben held him back.

“Richie- Richie come on,” (y/n) said, trying to get him to calm down. “Just stop, please-”

“We can’t leave, we have to stay together, It can’t defeat us when we’re together” Beverly pleaded.

But Bill had already gotten on his bike.

“F-forget it,” He said. “N-none of you care. None of y-you c-care about G-Georgie”

“Fuck you!”

The others wildly turned to (y/n), who was the last person they expected to lash you like that. For a moment, Richie had even thought it was him. But there stood (y/n), with her middle finger pointed at her oldest friend, and a scowl on her face, and tears in her eyes that she was trying her damn hardest not to let drop.

“I loved Georgie,” She said, still shouting, but it was clear that she was choking up. “I loved him so goddamn much he- he was my brother too!”

Richie reached out to her, but she hit his hands away, eyes still angrily locked on Bill.

“It’s been six months, and ten days,” She told him. “And every. Fucking. Day. I wish it could have been me. I’d give anything to have him back a-and you kn-know it!”

Her tears began to fall, and her friends were silent as she caught her breath.

“I’m here for the same reasons as you,” She whimpered out, no longer caring if she cried. “I’ve followed every clue, searched every fucking inch of this town, and nearly gotten murdered by a clown,” She reminded him. “So fuck you for thinking I don’t care”

She finally begins to cry, and shakes her head.

“I’m going home” She mumbles, walking off down the street.

“(y/n) let me take you-”

“No thanks,” The girl declines Richie, for probably the first time ever. “I just want to be by myself for a while”

He doesn’t argue with her, because he knows better, and he knows this is a different kind of grief. But at the same time, he wants to punch Bill right in the fucking face.

And when she’s gone, he nearly does. But Mike and Stan hold him back again before he gets the chance. ___

A week went by of (y/n) doing nothing. She didn’t reach out to her friends, she barely even left her room. All she could do was sit and think about Georgie, and It, and it was suffocating. It had truly started to feel like she would die if she spent another minute trapped in her own thoughts.

And while it was clear that she was re-cycling through the stages of grief, but her parents were oblivious to the extremities of her sadness. But (y/n) had to admit she was a bit grateful, because there was nothing they could do to lift her spirits. They’d never been good at that part of the job.

The hardest part was not calling Richie.

But finally, after the week passed, he showed up.

(y/n) didn’t want to get the door, but she was the only one home, and whoever was there kept knocking, and at this point she just wanted to kick them off the property.

So you can imagine her surprise when she opened the door to reveal Richie Tozier standing there.

“Richie-”

“Before you say no, we’re going to the arcade,” He spoke so fast that his words slurred together a bit, nervous that she was going to turn him away. “Um- if- if you want to, anyways”

She was stunned for a moment, staring at him in silence, unsure of what to say.

While on the inside, her heart was bursting with joy. She’d never been so happy to see him.

“Okay,” She agreed with a shaky nod of her head. “Let me just go get dressed and get my quarters”

They walked to the arcade together, pockets full of change, and not really knowing what to say to one another. Richie had been rambling for a while now about coming close to beating his own high score on Street Fighter, but eventually he shut himself up and tried not to mention it again.

“You know I… um…” He shoved his hands into his pockets, fingers jangling around the coins to distract him from his own awkwardness. “I know it’s only been a week but I uh, I missed you, babe”

(y/n) looked up at him, even though he was too shy, and could barely tear his eyes away from his shoes. If he had looked over, maybe he’d see the first smile on her face in a while.

“I missed you too,” She told him honestly. “Got too used to seeing your dumb face everyday” She added teasingly, and gently elbowed him in the side.

He chuckled, pushing her back.

“Fuck off you love my dumb face” He retorted.

She didn’t say anything back, just continued to shove him as they walked along the street.

When they got to the arcade, she played a few rounds of Street Fighter with him, before taking a seat and just admiring him while he played. Richie always looked so focused when he played his game, his lip between his teeth and his glasses often slipping down his face from how vigorously he’d move about the joystick. It used to make (y/n) laugh, but now the sight was almost comforting.

When Richie ran out of quarters, he sat with her, drinking slushies and getting used to that warm feeling in his chest that he always got when he was around her. It had been so weird not seeing her for a week. Not talking to (y/n) was probably the toughest thing he’d ever gone through, and that was saying something, seeing as he was almost murdered a couple days ago.

He wanted to tell her that he was fairly certain he was in love with her. That there was no logical explanation for the magnetic pull he felt towards her, and that it was much stronger than just a crush. He’d used to think that she was just his first crush, and that it was okay, because she was pretty and smart and witty and she laughed at his jokes- but after a year and a half of being by her side, he knew it was so astronomically more than that. It just had to be love that he felt.

But while he was building up the courage to confess these thoughts, Bill had walked into the arcade, and interrupted the moment.

“H-hey g-guys,” He stuttered.

He was greeted with two pairs of unamused eyes. Neither (y/n) or Richie were all too excited about his surprise visit, having not made amends from the last time they saw each other.

“Look, uh, It g-got B-Beverly,” Bill said. “I-I know you’re m-mad b-but-”

“We’re coming,” (y/n) told him, already getting up. “Come on” She hissed to Richie, who was still sat at the table.

“What-!?”

“We’re going” She said in monotone, and the boy shot right up and followed them out of the arcade. ___

“Do you think we’ll need that?” (y/n) asked, walking up to Mike.

She’d been staring at the nail gun strapped to his waist for the past half an hour. She knew she was walking towards certain death- but she just couldn’t focus on anything other than that gun.

Somehow it looked very fitting and out of place in Mike’s position at the same time, and that made it all the more unsettling.

“I don’t know,” He answers, eyeing the weapon with the same amount of discomfort as she had been. “I hope not”

(y/n) can only nod her head, and turned back to see Richie wandering behind the rest of the group. It was almost like he was waiting for her to come and walk with him, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a flashlight that shone everywhere but right in front of him.

If he was waiting for her, it worked, because she walked right back to him, and stuck to his side for the rest of their venture through the sewers. He finally used the flashlight properly when she joined him.

“Are you scared?” (y/n) asked, in a quiet enough voice that no one else could hear her.

“No,” Richie shook his head, and she couldn’t tell if he was lying or not. “Are you?”

“No” She mumbled back.

And then slipped her hand into his and held on tight.

Richie squeezed it back.

It felt like a long time to get to Beverly, when the elapsed time couldn’t have been more than an hour. Despite everyone’s objections, Bill had wandered off on his own search for the girl.

Now that they were separated, (y/n) wished she’d gone with them, and her fear only grew the more she thought about him, and Bev too, being out here all alone.

“I- I should’ve apologized,” She was muttering nonstop into Richie’s ear, her hand trembling in his. “I should’ve told him I was sorry I- I didn’t mean it- I didn’t mean to hurt him and now he- he’s-”

“Alright babe, that’s enough, you gotta calm down,”

Richie stopped her by her shoulders, and nodded to the others to keep heading forward so they could have a moment of privacy.

“Bill’s a tough motherfucker, he almost broke my nose,” He told her, his eyes focused on her sincerely. “And he’s got that gun. So even if there was trouble, he can fight back, okay?”

“But-”

“No, no more buts. He’s fine. We’re all fine, and we’re all going to be fine,” He said. “Don’t beat yourself up anymore. It’s almost over”

She nods, and thanks him quietly as he takes her hand again and they hastily make their way towards the others.

“Beverly?”

Ben saw her first, floating in the air, her eyes a terrifying milky white, and (y/n) just about lost it again. Richie must’ve been able to tell, because he squeezed her hand again, and rubbed his thumb over hers.

Mike and Stan helped Ben get her down, but even when they’d brought her to the ground she was still in an unconscious state. But she couldn’t be dead, right? She still had a pulse, she was still upright, there was no way she was dead.

“Beverly, Beverly!” Ben shook the girl’s shoulders desperately, and his voice was strained in a way (y/n) had never heard from him before.

In fact, she’d never seen such emotion from him, not even the day she’d met him, half carved up and bleeding out. It broke her heart to see him hurting so much over Bev’s current state.

She opened her mouth to say something, to assure him that she would be okay and they’d find out how to fix her, but she had no idea what to tell him, and snapped her mouth shut again.

And then, Ben leaned forward, and he kissed Beverly. Right on the lips

Eddie, Stan, and Mike all winced, staring at the boy like he’d just lost his mind and done the most vile thing imaginable.

(y/n), however, watched hopefully, something inside her saying yes Ben, this will work.

She glanced up at Richie, who was too busy staring at the scene to feel her gaze on him. That spark inside her warming up, and spreading across her whole self as she looked at him now.

His brows were furrowed, and his lips were parted, completely confused as to why Ben would just kiss Bev like that. It was random, and weird, and-

- well, it worked, actually.

And that worried look on his face disappeared and was quickly replaced with relief, as he turned to mutter a thank god to (y/n), who was already staring at him. A very different kind of stare. There was a look in her eyes that he couldn’t quite place, but he knew he’d seen it there before.

The night that she’d called him over because of her nightmare. She’d looked at him like that.

He smiled softly down at her, that look making him a little nervous, and yet… like he was back at home, safe and sound.

“January embers” Beverly said, confusing everyone, except Ben apparently.

“My heart burns there too”

“There’s still a fucking clown out there guys can we maybe hurry the fuck along?” Richie just about shouted, earning himself a nudge in the ribs from (y/n).

Bill came around a few minutes later, and the relief that spread through her was that of a tidal wave. She ran towards him quickly, not bothering to see that the nail gun in his hand was no longer loaded.

“Thank god you’re okay,” She breathed out, wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing the life out of him. “I’m sorry Bill- I’m so sorry about what I said, I didn’t mean it-”

“I-It’s okay (y/n),” Bill wheezed. “I-I know you d-didn’t. B-but I c-can’t b-breathe”

She let go of him, bashfully smiling while he pretended to heave.

“A-are you a-all okay?” He asked her, gesturing to the rest of the gang that was still a ways behind her. “Are y-you and R-Richie okay?”

“Yeah, we’re all fine, everything’s fine now. We got Bev back, she seems alright too. And don’t worry about Richie and I, it’s… complicated, you know”

“H-he almost s-swung at m-me. I w-would be d-dead if M-Mike hadn’t s-stepped in”

(y/n’s) brows crinkled, before saying, “Good thing you left as soon as you did”

“N-no,” Bill shook his head. “Th-the s-second time. A-after you left”

“After I left?” She repeated in a mumble.

“Y-yeah. He w-was p-pretty p-pissed since I m-made you s-so upset”

“He tried to fight you again?”

“K-key word tr-tried” Bill joked back.

(y/n) blinked, flattered and flustered all at once by this new information. She wanted to ask Bill more about it, but their friends had caught up to them, and she didn’t want to say anything in front of Richie.

“Dude, did you shoot something?” Eddie asked right away. “You shot something! You fucking shot something-!”

“Y-yeah it wasI-It” Bill said.

As if on cue, Pennywise appeared, and failed at it’s attempt to take Bill. It had thought it’d had the Losers at checkmate, but they weren’t about to let it take their dearest leader of a friend, not without a fight, at least.

RIchie’s swinging around a bat, Bill is trying to aim properly with Mike’s nail gun, Ben and Eddie have resorted to using their fists, while Stan, Beverly, and (y/n) were using items forgotten that had collected in the sewers.

Just as (y/n) raced towards it, an old metal pipe in hand, about to take a swing right at his head.

But her deafening cry was cut short when the clown took a different form. And there in front of her stood a small and dainty little boy in a bright yellow raincoat, with a missing arm.

“(y/n)!” The boy cried. “(y/n) please help me, Billy shot me- he tried to kill me”

“Georgie?” She mumbled, lowering her weapon.

“Babe- that’s not Georgie!”

Richie almost didn’t catch her in time, shoving her out of the way as It shed Georgie’s skin and lunged towards the girl with it’s razor sharp teeth bared. Richie shoved her with all the strength he could muster, before throwing his bat over his head, and smashing it down against the clown’s skull.

It stalled the demon for only a moment, but long enough that Richie could help (y/n) back to her feet and out of the way before it could attack her again.

“Are you okay? You’re alright?” He asked, hands grasping her shoulders, and then her arms, and then her hands. He was panicked, the reality of their situation, and his fear, settling in.

“Ahh,”

Pennywise was practically cooing, and with a simple swing of his arm, he flung Ben out of his sight, and grabbing (y/n) as though she was just a ragdoll.

“Gotcha!” The demon squealed with delight, shaking (y/n) in both hands proudly. “This is the thing that scares you most! This is it, this is it!”

“Let her go- let her fucking go!”

“I’m going to keep her,” It taunted, and began to stroke her head, despite her thrashing and screaming. “She’ll be my special pet, a treat, during my long rest”

“No fucking way!” Richie said, raising his bat threateningly.

(y/n) pushed and shoved, trying to free herself from Pennywise’s grasp.

She couldn’t see what happened, she didn’t even notice Bill raising the gun, but she heard it. The crack of the impact, the splintering of bones. She’d never heard an eight inch nail hit skull before, but somehow as the sound resonated, she knew exactly what had happened.

Before she could brace herself, she was thrown outwards, and landed roughly against the pile of sewer trash. She couldn’t hear what It was saying, her ears ringing too much.

And her head hurt, and she couldn’t move.

“(y/n), (y/n/n), hey,” Richie’s voice reached your ears in a panicked whisper. “Fuck, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” She said with a sharp wince. “I will be”

With a little help from Richie she was able to sit up, just in time to see the demon of her nightmares crawling into a pit, and disappearing.

“We did it?” Someone, Stan she thought, muttered.

“Is It gone?”

“It’s dead…”

“I can’t believe it worked”

(y/n’s) eyes darted up to Richie’s, who was still crouched next to her. A wide grin spread across her lips.

“Holy shit”

It was about the only thing she could think to say in the moment. Followed by her suddenly surging upwards, planting her lips on his in a surprising and far-too-quick kiss, before wrapping her arms around his neck and embracing him tightly. Her face buried into the crook of his neck, and the weight of her body almost pulling him down to the ground. He kept one hand on the cement, keeping them upright, while his other arm was wrapped securely around her waist, holding her against him for as long as they possibly could.

Even when Bill suggests they all go back to his place for the night, Richie only holds her tighter the whole way home.

His arm didn’t release her waist, and she glued herself to his side, her hand a fist in his now tattered and dirty hawaiian shirt.

Relief and comfort merged together as they left, and the further they walked, the hazier the image of the demon clown became. ___

Back at Bill’s everyone’s settled their sleeping bags around Bill’s garage, a film projected on one of the walls, which has been mostly forgotten, as almost everyone had either passed out, or trying to remember all of the events of the afternoon.

(y/n) had been resting next to Beverly, asking about what she remembered from her unconscious state, and how the deadlights had trapped her. She shared what little pieces she remembered. She’d even seen them in the future, older, and facing the same monster. But they’d promised they would come back to defeat him.

Beverly had fallen asleep, leaving (y/n) to lie awake and wonder if she will have to face it again.

After a few minutes, she slipped out of her sleeping bag, and carried it and her pillow across the room.

Richie was lying in his own sleeping bag with his eyes closed, but she knew he was still awake because his fingers were tapping rapidly against the floor. (y/n) was quiet as she crept up next to him, and laid out her sleeping bag.

The boy smiled as he opened his eyes to see her settling down at his side.

“Hey,” She whispered, sliding back into the warmth of her sleeping bag. “Can I stay with you?”

Richie nods, and tucks the edge of the bag over her shoulder to keep her warm.

“Yeah, of course,” He answered, and gave her a sweet smile. “Everything alright, babe?”

She nods back at him and carefully takes the hand that was resting on her sleeping bag. He had gauze wrapped around it, from where Bill had sliced open his palm earlier today.

“Does it still hurt?” She mumbled out, eyeing her own wrapped hand.

“No,” Richie shook his head. “You?”

“No” She repeated.

That seemed to give him some relief, as he let out a short sigh and smiled again.

“Good,” He whispered. “Everything’s going to go back to normal now”

(y/n) thought about the last year and a half. The time she’s spent having known Richie. Having been a part of the Losers Club, having met Beverly, and Ben, and Mike, and befriending them as well. Georgie’s death, his funeral, how long it took her to recover, and how Richie was at her side, for all of it. Holding her hand, telling her just what she needed to hear. She’d barely survived a week without him, she didn’t know what she’d do had she lost him to Pennywise like she’d lost Georgie.

“Yeah,” She mumbled, leaning off her pillow to rest her head on his chest, and then squeezed his hand a little tighter. “Normal”

They laid that way for a few moments, in silence, while Richie’s free hand would pet her hair, and she was about to fall asleep to the calming movement of his chest, and his steady heart beat against her cheek.

“Fuck friendship bracelets” Richie muttered, and (y/n) tilted her head back to look at him.

Her brows were furrowed, wondering what the hell he was talking about. And then his scarred hand rested overtop of hers, and she chuckled under her breath.

“You’re dumb” She whispered back, before yawning and resting against him again.

“You still love me though” He retorted.

She just smiled as she fell asleep.

“Um, hey (y/n)?” Richie spoke in an even quieter whisper, and his eyes wandered around the garage, just making sure everyone else was asleep. “Look after you, uh, kissed me- earlier- um-” His stammering was worse than Bill’s, and he had to pause so that he could form coherent words. “Anyways, I just wanted to tell you that I liked it ad I- I like you, a lot, actually”

She hadn’t said anything, and for a second, Richie thought he just made the biggest mistake of his life, and ruined what was probably the best thing that had ever happened to him.

“(y/n)?” He called, looking down at her now, just to find that she was sound asleep.

For a moment he was embarrassed to had admitted something so important only for it to fall on deaf ears. But he took one look at her and decided that he’d tell her another time. He could wait.

She looked so calm, like finally, after six months, she was able to rest peacefully. And it was here, with him.

So he could wait.

He wrapped his arm around her a little tighter, and she made a small hum as her face nuzzled into him cozily. ___

The next day, (y/n) had decided it was time to organize through her desk drawer. The Georgie one. In it she’d shoved newspaper clippings, multiple missing posters, photographs, drawings he’d given her, there were things that had been crammed in there so long ago that she didn’t even remember putting them there. It had gotten so bad to the point that anything Georgie related went into the drawer.

She’d told herself that it was to preserve them, to preserve her memory of him, but looking through it all now, she realized she’d been shoving the memories deep down, and had avoided coping altogether.

As she separated the things she no longer held an attachment to (the missing posters, a few of the articles that had only briefly mentioned him) from the things that she couldn’t part with just yet (a drawing he’d made of her and Bill’s friends and himself, a few polaroids she’d taken of them, and a small teddy bear plushie with a santa hat that he’d given her for christmas) the tears began to fall again.

These weren’t the same tears that she’d been crying for the boy, though. These were happy tears, relief tears. She felt that she’d finally avenged his early death, and did the right thing. By killing It, she’d gained the closure she’d been chasing. And finally, finally, she could begin moving on in a healthy process.

As she held the teddy bear close to her heart, there was a knocking on the window. The sound made her jump, but it was no surprise to see Richie on the other side. She hastily wiped her eyes as she got up to unlock it and let him in.

“Hey, Juliet,” He greeted his usual greeting when he met her like this, a bit out of breath from having scaled up the side of her house. “Have you been crying?”

“Oh,” (y/n) laughed nervously and wiped at her eyes again. “Just a little, but it’s alright, nothing bad,” She tried to assure him, but he looked unconvinced. “I’m uh… going through Georgie’s old things,” She explained softly. “Trying to figure out what I need and what I’m pointlessly holding onto, you know?”

Richie nods, eyeing the pile of papers and things on her bed.

“If you’re sure” He says with a sigh.

“So what’re you doing here?” (y/n) asks, tidying up her messy organization process. “Want to get your ass kicked at Street Fighter?” She asks with a giggle, remembering the last time they’d played.

“No, actually, um..” He shuffled around for a bit, earning a strange look from (y/n), because Richie Tozier was never rendered speechless.

But here he was. Standing in the middle of her room, unable to form words, or look her in the eye for that matter.

“Rich?” She hummed, stepping towards him. “You alright?”

As she takes a good look at him, his hands are shaking, and suddenly she’s very worried that something’s wrong. Even though things just started to feel normal again. But in an instant, she’s reaching out and taking his hands, making him look her in the eyes, and relieving any nerves he may have.

“What is it?” She asks gently. “Did something happen?”

“No- no,” He shook his head, and let go of her hands, only to reach into his pocket. “I actually have one more pointless thing for you to add to your pile”

Her brows stitch together, but she waits patiently for him to retrieve the item.

He produces a small heart, cut out of pink construction paper, and written on in handwriting that wasn’t his, but she still recognized it.

It was one of the valentine’s day cards that she’d helped Georgie make months ago. Seeing one now felt like someone had a hold on her heart, and was beginning to clench their hand.

“Oh my god,” She mumbled, reaching out to take this. “Where’d you get this?”

When her eyes met his, his face went pink, and her confusion grew tenfold.

“Well I… I made it” He told her.

“You did?” She murmured, and looked back down to read it.

“Well it was from a while ago,” He added quickly, and his hand reached behind him to nervously rub the back of his neck. “So if it’s really fucking bad, you know…”

(y/n)- i’ll give you mine if you give me yours, be mine? - Richie (and Georgie)

She giggled at the cheesy line, but her heart swelled at the sight of George’s name scribbled on there, in his messy handwriting.

Tears welled in her eyes as she read it over again, and then again, and then a third time, just to be sure that she was seeing it right.

“I love it,” She almost whimpered out, before sniffling and wiping her eyes.

She looks up at him, with a watery smile and glossy but starstruck eyes.

“I love you” She says, even softer, and he practically has to read her lips to really catch it.

“Really?” Richie asks, completely surprised, and she laughs as she nods her head. “You do? It’s not lame?”

“No, it’s not lame,” (y/n) says, and her hands reach up to cup his face, thumbs stroking over his cheekbones. “It’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever given me” She murmurs before leaning up on the tips of her toes and pressing her lips against his.

The kiss was soft, but still displayed every last drop of love that she’d grown to have for him over the last year and a half. Richie didn’t waste his time this time, as he wrapped his arms around her waist to hold her close, and kiss her deeply.

His glasses slid down his nose and bumped into her forehead, and the giggle that she let out broke their kiss.

She tilts her head back, before pushing the coke bottle lenses back up the slope of his nose and into place.

“I love you too” He told her, and she laughed again.

“I know, Richie,” She says teasingly, and shakes her head when he gives her a puzzled look. “I’ve always known. I just didn’t think I’d have to be the one to make a move”

“Fuck off” He muttered, before leaning down to capture her lips again.

She smiles against his mouth, her hands clasping around his wrists as she lets her lips linger against his until she can’t possibly hold her breath a second longer.

“You want to go drink milkshakes until we get kicked out again?” She asks hopefully, and the grin on Richie’s face is answer enough.

“Sounds delightful, my love” He tells her in his British Guy voice, which never fails to make her laugh.

They jump out her window, and walk hand in hand into town. At last, feeling safe, and free, and in love, and among other wonderful reasons for them to smile as they head off together.

[ stay with me, no, you don’t run // stay with me, my blood ]

___

xoxo ~ jordie

#it 2017 #it 2019 #richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier imagine #richie tozier scenario #richie tozier fanfiction #finn wolfhard #finn wolfhard x reader

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