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soulwillower · 4 years

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pink lemonade • richie tozier

some roommate richie x reader smut that i wrote really quickly agh

warnings: smut, swearing, oral (fem receiving), praise kink, kinda jealous richie, drunk friends

[the losers + reader are aged up to college!]

2.7k words

♡

"richie, are you sure you don't want to come out?" you ask with a frown. he knew you were concerned for a pretty fair reason - it was very unlike him to skip out on a night of partying and stay home. he shrugs though, nodding with a smile. "i'm fine, doll. just not in the mood. go have fun with them." he insists, nodding his head towards bev and stan who sit in your kitchen. he's trying his hardest to stop himself from sounding frustrated. "i'll be here when you come home. and if you get home late, remember to lock the doors and tell your night guest hi for me." he says before shutting the door to his bedroom. he can hear you through his door, "um, okay. i guess let's just go." you say, sounding dejected, slightly pissed off and confused. great, now he's done it. "bye rich!" richie hears bev and stan call before the front door shuts.

hours later, richie's sitting on your shared kitchen counter staring at the wall, a bowl of chips discarded and untouched to his left. it was well past one and he was kind of regretting not going out. it was the not knowing that was killing him, really - were you kissing some guy right now? grinding with him, pulling him into a stall in the bathroom?

he wasn't judging, he could never do that. but he's jealous, that's for sure.

after another few minutes, as richie's chugging his glass of pink lemonade you finally stumble through the door. he's relieved that you're safe and opens his mouth to ask about your night until he sees that you're not alone. his heart drops to his ass in disbelief and heartbreak as you giggle quietly, shushing the tall figure whose arms are around you. "stan, come on, i think richie's sleeping." you mumble, laughing as you look at the figure. stan?

richie wants to snap stan's neck. of course you'd like stan, who wouldn't? he can't believe he's going to have to listen to his best friend fuck his roommate (who he may be in love with but that is not important) all night while he wallows away by himself in misery, stuck to imagine that he was the one who was making you moan. "i'm not." richie speaks up, sliding off the counter.

you jump at his voice, turning to him with a large grin. stan looks to him, "hey, rich! c-can i stay here?" stan hiccups with a charming grin. richie's eyebrows shoot up. he looks to you. "you think this is a good idea?" he asks you and you frown with a confused shrug. "what? our place was closer. i didn't think it would be a big deal, i thought you'd be asleep." you say, making richie scowl. "yeah, sure, he can stay. whatever, i'm not the boss of you." he grumbles, finishing the last of his lemonade. with that, he walks back to his room, shutting his door but not before hearing stan mumble, "well who pissed in his cereal?"

richie can't fall asleep, not after the sugary drink he just downed, so he just sits idly in the dark until he hears footsteps and a groan from outside his door. he rolls his eyes, about to tell you to at least shut your fucking door before you and stan sleep together, for richie's ears' sake. as he pulls the door open, he sees you in sweats and a tank top, a duvet and pillow in your hands. "what are you doing?" richie asks, still sounding hostile. "can you shut your door before you and ramen hair do anything?" he asks grumpily. you frown at him, looking annoyed and not even chuckling at his nickname. "what's your fucking issue, tozier? did i do something to you?" you frown.

ignoring your questions, he asks, "y/n, are you drunk?"

you roll your eyes. "no, asshole. i only had one drink like four hours ago. i had to stay sober and take care of stan and bev, but now stan's dead asleep and there's no room in my bed, so i'm gonna take the couch." you grumble.

richie sighs, feeling guilty. he was being a jealous asshole to her all night for no reason. he needs to control himself. "you can just stay in here, y/n/n." he says with a tight-lipped smile, opening his door. you blink up at him, smiling and lifting up on your toes to peck his cheek. "thanks, rich." you say softly, walking in and sitting on his bed. "so what's on your mind, then? did i leave the milk unopened again?" you ask, worrying your lip as he shuts his door. he smiles gently at the look on your face.

he shakes his head, sitting down on the other side of the bed from you. "no, y/n/. you did nothing." he sighs, not wanting to explain himself so that you wouldn't fucking move out or something when you find out he's into you. "bullshit. you've been acting weird all night." she says, throwing him a glare with barely any heat.

"i just... i guess i've been feeling lonely lately. i didn't want to see you hook up with anyone, especially stan." he says quickly, laying back to stare at the ceiling. you're quiet for a moment but he hears you lay back as well. "okay... well why is that?" you say slowly as if trying to piece together his feelings.

"i don't know. it doesn't matter." richie grumbles, knowing his voice sounds angry. "richie, you aren't the one that should be mad." you quip to him, making him look at you. you're propped on your arms, laying on your stomach and he wishes you weren't because he can see right down the hem of your tank top. "wait...oh, my god!" you say, a disbelieving smile on your face and he knows he's been caught staring. richie quickly darts his eyes to yours. "you're lonely? ... you're just horny!" you yelp.

fuck.

richie groans, "no fucking way, you're just annoying when you flirt with our friends. it's annoying. and if i was just horny, believe i could fix that." he says, instantly regretting saying it. he's just panicking, and annoyed, and kind of turned on and he just needs to sleep so you'll forget about this whole thing.

"so you're more than just lonely, then?" you say, tilting your head. you don't seem upset, in fact you've got a slight smirk on your face. it looks sexy. richie shakes his head, "fuck off." he mutters. your eyebrows shoot up, biting your lip.

"because i'm also a little lonely." you say quietly and richie swears he imagined it. fuck, he's already turned on. "why don't you have stan take care of that?"

"i don't think he could give me what i want." you say in mock disappointment, finger reaching out to trace lines down richie's chest. he snatches your hand from his chest and pulls you closer to him, staring at your lips. you look a little shocked but you lean in closer. "and... what do you want?" he asks. you shrug, "it's always been you."

he doesn't waste any more time, pulling you into him and kissing you. you kiss back feverishly, your teeth clashing and noses bumping but richie doesn't care because all he can think about is you. his hands roam over your body, squeezing your hips, ass, then up to your breasts. you're letting out little moans that richie's dreamed of ever since you moved in together.

he pushes you on your back so he can crawl on top of you. "you taste like pink lemonade." you mumble breathlessly, your cheeks flushed with arousal.

he lets you pull off his shirt and he slips off your tank top, groaning when he sees you're not wearing a bra. his room is cold enough that your nipples perk up and he kisses your chest, his tongue flicking over one of your nipples before moving to the other. you gasp, your whole body shivering under him. richie chuckles, grinding down on you lightly, relishing in the mewl you let out. "you have no idea how long i've wanted you." you whisper, causing richie to groan. your hands slide down to palm him through his jeans and he bites back a loud groan. "please fuck me richie." you whine, eyes shut.

he chuckles, intending on making you work a little harder for it. "so needy, hm?" he hums, smiling as your beautiful face flushes red. "you want my cock?" he asks, grabbing your jaw softly. your eyes open and you whimper as he kisses you. he reaches down to slip a hand into your waistband, fingers fluttering over your underwear. "please, please," you mumble, bucking into his hand. he chuckles, slipping his hand under your underwear and swirling his fingers through your wet pussy. "so wet, all for me?" he asks, watching you as he teases your clit with his finger tip. you nod and he grins, amazed at the immediate change in confidence that you'd had minutes ago. now you're a moaning mess, desperate for him and he loves it.

"be a good girl for me and you'll get what you want, okay?" he mutters, thumb rubbing your bottom lip. you open your mouth and he slips two of his fingers in, groaning as you suck eagerly on them, your tongue swirling around. he pulls your sweats off with your help and then he pulls your underwear to the side, slipping his middle finger immediately into your warmth. he feels you clench slightly around him as you moan and he realizes that it must have been a while because you're so fucking tight.

"so good," he mutters, pumping his finger before adding another, palming himself as he grows fully hard watching your reactions. "so perfect and ready for me."

his thumb rubs your clit and you cover your mouth with the back of your hand, groaning loudly. "nope. none of that, sugar. i wanna hear how good i'm making you feel." he says, smirking as he sees your eyes roll back in pleasure. "you're being such a good girl."

you moan loudly at his words and he smirks, not surprised you've got such a thing for praise. he takes note of that and curls his fingers as he pumps into you. he feels you clenching and leans down, replaces his thumb with his lips to flick your clit with his tongue. "r-richie, i'm gonna..." you say with your hands threaded through his hair. he just pumps harder and he feels you clench around him as you cum.

he pulls away and you whimper, your chest heaving. you sit up, looking fucked out and completely beautiful, and you kiss him hard. he groans when you slip your hand into his waistband, wrapping your hand around his cock and pumping slowly. "holy shit, you're huge." you whisper, eyes wide as you pull away from his lips. richie tries to keep the cocky smirk off his face, "what, you thought i was joking all those times?" he asks, and you bite your lip, shaking your head, seemingly slightly nervous now. he kisses you and lays you back down, pulling off his sweats and boxers before sliding your underwear down your legs. you look at him as you lick your lips, waiting. he stares at you, completely naked in his bed, and thinks you look like a fucking dream. "you sure, sugar? we don't have to." he asks with his bottom lip between his teeth. you nod, "yes, richie. one hundred percent. i'm yours."

he lines up and grabs your hands as he pushes in slowly, holding himself up with one arm. you gasp as he slides all the way in and he moans at how tight you are. "god, so good for me." he says into your ear. he starts slowly, giving you time to adjust until he feels you slowly letting out little moans and moving your hips with his. he immediately picks up the pace, his hips sliding into yours as you both let out curses.

he attaches his lips to the column of your neck, sucking and biting marks onto your beautiful skin as he slams into you. your hands are still intertwined and he loves how you whimper as you clench around him.

after a few more minutes, he lets your hands go and snakes his hand to your already sensitive clit and you gasp, hands scratching down his back. "fuck, y/n, so fucking tight for me." richie groans, loving the feeling of your nails dragging down his back. "you gettin' close again, honey?" he asks, smiling as your face, as always, contorts with a blush at his pet names. "yes, yes," you mumble, kissing him fiercely. he's thrusting into you passionately, hitting you deeper with every thrust and you hold him against you, moaning. he can tell you're about to cum again and he sits up slightly, grabbing your hips and hitting you deeper, making you moan his name loudly. your lips plant themselves on his neck. after a long stroke, he knows you're going to cum and he moans as you hit your high, still thrusting as you clench through your high. "fuck, rich." you moan and he stills his hips, cumming inside you with a groan of his own.

you're breathing heavily as you grin up at richie. he meets your eyes when he pulls his head from your shoulder and he pulls out of you slowly. you gasp at the sensation, looking dazed and in disbelief as he slides your underwear back up your legs, patting your stomach. "such a good girl," he mumbles, seeing you blush at the praise. he plants a kiss at your waistband, rubbing your stomach before pulling on a pair of boxers and crawling back to you.

you look at him with a tired smile and he swears his heart soars, pulling you towards his chest. you curl into him and he can feel your legs shaking slightly. "you okay, y/n/n?" he asks softly into your hair. you nod, "yeah, yeah. you're such a fucking trashmouth, even in bed." you say, breathing heavily.

richie bites his lip, brushing your hair back as you look up at him. "i-is that okay? i wasn't too much, was i?" he asks nervously. you smile, shaking your head, "that was so fucking good." you assure him, kissing his lips again. "you're.. god, i really like you." you trail off looking nervous, as if he'd ever reject you. never in a million fucking lifetimes would he ever reject you. "i really like you too, sweetheart." he mumbles, cupping your chin with his fingers. you smile at his admission, "can we do this forever? i hate being alone." you ask shyly. richie smiles though, pulling you closer to his chest and laying his head atop yours, kissing a kiss to the crown of your head. "i'll be yours for as long as you'll have me, sugar." he mumbles, feeling the pull of post-orgasm bliss lull him into a tired state. "g'night, rich." you say sleepily, nuzzling into his chest. he feels warm everywhere. "goodnight, y/n/n."

the next morning richie wakes up to an empty bed, but something tells him you haven't ditched him. he knew you better than that, so he brushes his teeth and walks out into the main area to find you and stan in the kitchen eating eggs and fruit. "there's some left for you." you say, giving him a sweet smile which he immediately returns. you've got a string of hickeys hiding under the collar of what he notices to be his own sweater. richie pads over to get himself some breakfast, sitting next to stan and rubbing his shoulder. stan gives him a smile and it's blissfully quiet for a few moments.

"so, did you guys have sex?" stan asks bluntly, making you choke on your coffee. richie snorts, eyeing stan as he looks at him quizzically. "yes." richie says with a grin, yelping as you smack him with a towel from across the table. "nice," stan responds, high giving richie. "proud of you, man." stan says, yawning into his eggs. you roll your eyes, looking up at richie as he blows you a kiss with a wink.

#richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier smut #stanley uris #beverly marsh #bill denbrough #mike hanlon #ben hanscom #the losers club #losers x reader #losers club x reader #my writing

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thorniest-rose · 4 years

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Do you think asshole alpha Richie ever does, like, livestreams where he fucks Eddie and lets people make suggestions of things to do to him? Or getting his friends to talk about things they fantasize about doing to Eddie and making Eddie listen to it? Maybe even putting a remote controlled vibrator in Eddie during a party and letting the guests see how many times they can make the poor omega come with just that.

Yes! Asshole Alpha Richie treats Eddie like a possession, and he loves showing his omega off whenever he can. He’ll frequently film Eddie when he’s in heat and puts it online, showing all his fans just how needy his mate gets; how much he begs for his cock; the face he makes when he’s being knotted. Sometimes, on special occasions, he’ll also host live streams, where his fans can make suggestions on how to fuck him and which position to pull him in, whether it’s on Richie’s lap, his front to the camera so everyone can watch him bounce on Richie’s cock, or on his hands and nails as Richie rails him from behind, so everyone can see every expression on Eddie’s face.

He’d also have no issue with bringing Eddie out to drinks with his friends, where they all openly talk about how pretty Eddie is, how sweet he smells, asking Richie when he last fucked him, if he’s full of come right now. And Eddie just sits there, so embarrassed, tucking his face against Richie’s neck, as Richie grins and tells them all in excruciating detail how he fucked Eddie just before they came to the bar. The night ends in Eddie on his knees in the men’s bathrooms, taking all of Richie’s cock down his throat, eyes prickling with tears. One of Richie’s friends comes across them and says, “Fuck, he really knows how to take a dick, doesn’t he?” and Eddie’s face flushes bright red as Richie dumps his come down his throat, one of Richie’s hands coming down to squeeze his throat in warning when Eddie tries to pull away so the other man can’t see his face.

Then there are the parties, which only take place once in a blue moon, where Richie invites his friends over to his house. There’s a lot of drinks and food, but the main attraction is Eddie in lingerie, who the guests get to pull around and touch, even pulling him onto their laps to tweak his nipples and touch him between his legs, even ghosting their fingers over his twitching hole. At the end of the night Richie works a plug inside him, as Eddie holds his legs open and hiccups with shame, giving their guests a perfect view of his candy-pink hole. Once it’s inside, their guests get to pass the remote around and control the vibrations, sometimes soft, to watch Eddie squirm so prettily, then hard, to make Eddie thrash and whine. And each guest sees if they can make Eddie come. Which isn’t hard as Eddie is so sensitive. And the entire time Richie just sits back with his beer and enjoys it. By the time the last guest has played with the plug, Eddie is drenched in his own slick, moaning pitifully, and looking like a pretty little wreck where he gasps into the plush rug at the men’s feet.

When they’ve left for the evening, grousing to Richie about how fucking unfair it is he has such a peach of an omega, Richie carries Eddie to the bathroom and bathes them, then brings him to their huge bed, pushes him face down into the covers, and slides his cock into Eddie’s sore, used hole. He rocks against him as Eddie moans, and in his ear whispers what a gorgeous little bitch his omega is, before lapping wetly at the mating scar he’d left on Eddie’s pale neck the year before. Eddie comes as Richie’s teeth graze his neck, and Richie says, “Good boy. Such a good boy for Daddy.”

#asks #asshole alpha richie #minors dni #a/b/o reddie #alpha richie #omega eddie #tw dubious consent

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edsbev · 5 years

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Ever since Derry, waking has felt like falling.

Richie sees Eddie in front of him. Almost breathless in his excitement – the cavern is filtered a sickly shade of dark green, but Richie, even in his dazed state, can still see something golden in Eddie’s eyes.

“Rich,” Eddie says. “I did it. I killed it. I – ”

And then Richie sees it. An unfurling shadow at Eddie’s back. And he knows what’s going to happen before it happens. But he can’t move. His body is frozen. He can’t even call out to warn him. And then Eddie is being pierced through the middle, and Richie’s brain is falling until it lands back in his body, and he jolts awake in his bed.

His heart pounds but it feels like he’s dead. Weighed down by some sort of cold, sickly fear, his body numb, his soul somewhere outside his body. Hasn’t returned yet, from the fall.

Until his eyes find the back of Eddie’s head, asleep on the pillow next to him. Until he reaches out and ghosts his finger over Eddie’s arm, his shoulder, just to feel his body heat. And everything begins to click into place. His soul returns. His heart tempers.

Eddie is here. Eddie is here, he’s alive, Richie thinks. In Richie’s dream, he is impaled.

In reality, Richie grabbed Eddie and rolled them over before IT could strike, and the stones of the cavern were impaled instead.

It’s such a fucking nightmare, waking up like this. But it’s only been a week, and they’re not even that far out from Derry. So it’ll get better. That’s what Eddie had said yesterday, when Richie had woken so fiercely that Eddie had jolted awake too.

Hey, Eddie had said softly, a hand to Richie’s jaw. I’m here. I’m always going to be here. Morning light had filtered in through the motel room’s shutters, cast golden stripes over the bad 70’s inspired décor, just as it does now. Eddie looked a bit like an angel, sitting up in bed in one of Richie’s shirts, blankets pooled at his waist, hair a mess atop his head. Then he’d smiled, more like a devil, like himself, and said, you’re not getting rid of me any time soon.

Richie had kissed him, then. And it had been desperate and needy – which should’ve been embarrassing – but Eddie had kissed him back just as desperately, as needily. Now, Richie shuffles over in bed, loops an arm over Eddie’s waist, and kisses his shoulder. Careful to be gentle, not to wake him, as he slots up against Eddie’s back, as he buries his face in Eddie’s neck.

They’ve done this before. When they were young.

It’s weird, how the memories will either hit Richie all at once, or trickle in one by one. He had remembered those memories the first night he had slept next to Eddie, curled up around him.

One moment, he was in this hotel room, the next, he was in his childhood bedroom, and he was fourteen years old.

“…I swear that shadow looked like a person,” Eddie was saying – who was also in Richie’s childhood bedroom, and also fourteen years old. He was sitting up in bed, not in Richie’s shirt but in his own shirt, blankets pooling around his waist, hair a mess atop his head. And Richie had thought he looked like an angel then too, even though there were dark night shadows cast over his face, and a wild frightened look in his eyes.

Richie was lying next to him, face half smushed into his pillow. “It’s just the tree outside, dude.”

“If it’s a tree then why did it look like a person?” Eddie demanded. His hands were fisted anxiously in the quilt, his gaze pointed sharply at Richie.

“Because sometimes shit looks like other shit. I don’t know. It’s just your eyes playing tricks on you.” Richie yawned. He was exhausted, already half-asleep, and maybe that’s why he reached out and carefully pried Eddie’s hands from where they clutched at the blankets. He didn’t do anything else. Didn’t hold Eddie’s hands, or let his own hands linger. He just unclenched Eddie’s hands, let them rest on Eddie’s lap, and then pulled his hand away. “Go to sleep.”

And then, a few seconds too late, it hit him. What he had just done. And his eyes had shot open, and his stomach had lurched to his throat. Wide awake. And he looked at Eddie, who was looking quietly down at his own hands, and then Eddie looked at him.

“Fine,” Eddie had said, and he sounded irritable but his throat did something strange at the end of the word. Like he was having a hard time swallowing.

He shuffled down, lay back against the bed, then rolled onto his side, facing away from Richie.

It was their usual kind of sleep over, only it wasn’t. It was usual because it was just the two of them, and they were up at a painful hour in the morning because they’d stayed up talking and eating copious amounts of sugar and reading comics. But it wasn’t usual because Eddie had spooked himself before they’d decided to go to sleep, and had ended up in Richie’s bed as a result, rather than where he usually slept on the floor.

It wasn’t usual because they had fought a killer clown only a few months ago, and were still burdened by a lingering sense of fear.

It wasn’t usual because at this point Richie liked Eddie so much that he could hardly stand it.

Richie stared at the back of Eddie’s head for what felt like the whole night. Hand still tingling from touching Eddie’s. But it had only been a handful of minutes, when Eddie said, kind of quiet, “I still can’t sleep.”

Richie watched the back of Eddie’s move as Eddie frustratedly nuzzled his head into his pillow, groaned. Something ticked in his chest. Then he scooted a little closer to Eddie and said, “here.” And he’d looped an arm over Eddie’s waist, and lay his head so close to Eddie’s that Eddie’s hair brushed his nose. And his mouth went dry and his heart screamed at him and he figured that at some point he should learn to use his brain before he used his mouth, before he moved his body, but it was too late now. He asked, “this okay?”

Eddie had gone very still. It felt like the kind of still that Eddie went before he exploded; a deep breath in before he yelled.

But Eddie had said, voice barely there, “okay.”

And, god, that had been a terrible idea. Because Richie couldn’t sleep. Was too keyed up, distracted by the slight rise of fall of Eddie’s torso beneath his arm, by the smell of Eddie’s hair. It was pure, agonizing torture, being so close to Eddie. But then, once Richie had finally fallen asleep, it had been the best sleep Richie ever had.

They’d slept like that a couple times after that, Richie remembers. Maybe only a handful of times. Eddie silently climbing into Richie’s bed during their sleepovers, Richie silently wrapping an arm around him. Sometimes, Eddie would wrap an arm around Richie. Once, they wrapped their arms around each other. But it was always silent.

It was, also, always part torture.

Richie remembers waking up once, when he was maybe fifteen, and finding Eddie lying so close that they were sharing a pillow. They weren’t touching at all, but Richie, even without his glasses, could see every feature of Eddie’s face. Could see, perfectly, the curve of Eddie’s lips, slightly parted in his sleep.

And Richie had wanted to kiss him, of course. To close the gap, press his lips to Eddie’s. To touch Eddie’s face gently with his fingers, to have Eddie touch his face with his own fingers. Had burned so fiercely with that desire it was a wonder the whole bed didn’t go up in flames.

It was torture not being able to kiss him.

Now, Richie opens his eyes – hadn’t even realised they were closed – and he finds Eddie’s face close to his own, like all those years ago. Only Richie has his arm still wrapped around him, and Eddie is awake.

“Hey,” Eddie says, with a soft smile. He says it like he’s been trying to talk to Richie for a while. Probably since Richie had jolted awake and slotted up against Eddie’s back. Richie wonders where his mind had gone. But he knows. It was with Eddie. It had left Eddie to think about Eddie. God.

“Hey,” Richie says.

“You okay?” Eddie asks. Richie reaches up and presses his thumb to Eddie’s jaw, just because he can.

“Yeah. Just…fucked up dreams, y’know,” Richie says. A line appears between Eddie’s brows, concern filtering into his perpetual wide-eyed look. “Sometimes I wish you could crawl inside my head and yell at my brain. Tell it to stop fucking with me.”

Eddie quirks a lip. “I am good at yelling at things.”

“You are,” Richie says. And then he leans in and kisses him, because he hasn’t kissed Eddie since last night, and that’s far too long. Because he had wanted so badly to kiss Eddie when he was young, and he’s trying to make up for every time he wanted to and couldn’t.

Eddie pulls away, a hand at Richie’s chest when Richie tries to follow him with his lips. “You know how I feel about morning breath, asshole.”

“I just want you to know that you could be drenched head to toe in sewer water, with half your teeth fallen out, and I’d still want to kiss you,” Richie says.

“Okay?” Eddie says. “That still doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want your stinky breath in my face.”

Richie laughs. Then he pries Eddie’s hand, where it’s fisted in Richie’s shirt, and he kisses Eddie’s knuckles. Eddie watches him with a kind of reverence, the way he has been watching him whenever Richie does something particularly gentle, particularly loving. It’s like Eddie still can’t quite believe that Richie Tozier has the ability to be tender.

Only with Eddie, Richie thinks. He can’t imagine himself being like this with anyone else.

Not that there would ever be anyone else.

Richie is going to marry him.

Not now, of course. Or any time soon. Eddie is already married. That’s the whole reason they’ve been staying at this motel for the past week. Eddie hadn’t wanted to deal with it, with real life, with their old lives. Not yet. So he’d called Myra to let her know he was okay, that it was over, and that he wouldn’t be back for a week or two. And then he’d booked this room.

And they haven’t really left it.

It’s been seven days of ordering room service for breakfast, and Eddie scolding Richie for trying to eat the food in bed. Of the two of them pulling the little wooden chairs from around the little dining table up to the window to catch some sun as they sit, feet in each other’s laps, and talk about their lives. Of them curled up together, flicking through channels on the tiny, square television up on the wall. Of them kissing and kissing and kissing. Like they’re teenagers who have fallen in love for the first time.

They got out too, of course. They’d both go a little stir crazy if they didn’t. They’ll go for walks in the afternoons, and out for dinner out in the evenings. They’d tried to go see a movie, but Eddie had had an anxiety attack half way through it, and Richie had spent ten minutes calming him down outside the theatre. He couldn’t blame Eddie – the loud noises, bright flashes in the dark, had made Richie’s chest feel tight, too. Like they were back down there, in the sewers.

So mostly they stay in their motel room. And, honestly, Richie thinks he could spend the rest of his life in bed, with his mouth to Eddie’s skin, and be satisfied.

Which is another thing they do a lot of, in this room. Only in the last few days, though, because it had taken Eddie a little while to get used to the idea. It was new to him, Richie got that. Eddie had only ever had sex with his wife, and even then Eddie had said that he and Myra did not have sex often.

So on the first two nights, Eddie had been into it to a point. On his back, hands gripping Richie’s shoulders as Richie kissed his neck, hands in Richie’s hair as he kissed Richie. But then Richie had grinded down against him and Eddie’s breath had hitched and he pulled away, looked at Richie with those wide brown eyes, and said, nervously “I don’t know, Rich.”

“It’s okay,” Richie had said, trying to squash down the fact that he was wildly turned on. Eddie just had an effect on him.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie said, and he looked very sincerely sorry. “I’m sorry, I…”

“It’s okay, Eds,” Richie had assured him. Smiled at him gently, pressed a kiss to Eddie’s hair. “There’s other things we can do. Like sleep. I’m old, I need to sleep forty hours a day now.”

And Eddie had smiled back and they’d held each other and slept.

Richie hadn’t tried anything on the third night. They had time, they had the rest of their lives. Eddie had pounced on him on the fourth.

Which was funny, because that fourth night was also the night they had gone to the cinema, and Richie had spent ten minutes helping Eddie come down from a panic attack. He’d just talked Eddie through the attack, at first, and then he’d started to very carefully touch him. His hand on Eddie’s arm, on his shoulder, rubbing circles into his back, trying to ease the pinched, frustrated look on Eddie’s face. Eddie had still been a little agitated during the drive back to the motel. Richie had held his hand over the centre console. But as soon as they walked through their door, Richie with a sigh, “home sweet home,” he’d said. “Home ugly home, more like, am I right. Who designed this place? Someone’s dead grandma? – ” Eddie had pushed Richie against the door and kissed him.

It had been a surprise, albeit a pleasant one, but the biggest shock was just how hungrily Eddie kissed him. After days of Eddie being careful, almost embarrassed, suddenly his hands were everywhere, and his tongue was in Richie’s mouth, and Richie was breathless and exhilarated and his whole body was thrumming.

“Richie,” Eddie breathed, and his voice was all airy and shaky. He looked up at Richie and there was something there, in his brown eyes, that made Richie’s stomach drop to his knees. “I want you.”

“I want you too,” Richie said a little stupidly. Before realising that Eddie didn’t want him to say something he wanted him to do something. And so he kissed Eddie and they stumbled together toward the bed.

They’d gone slow. Richie didn’t think he’d have the self-control, but once he was presented with a flushed, heavy-eyed, half-naked Eddie Kaspbrak beneath him, all he wanted to do was go slow. To take his time, learning every inch of him. With his hands. With his mouth. Memorise every breath Eddie took, every sharp inhale, the way he swore under his breath when Richie found a particularly sensitive spot. (And, God, Eddie was so sensitive).

Richie had had sex before. With women. With men, when he was really drunk. But this almost felt like his first time. Maybe it was because he had never wanted to watch someone’s face so closely before – eyes drawn to the slackening of Eddie’s red mouth, fluttering of his eyelids, as Richie rocked into him. He’d never wanted to kiss someone the whole way through it. Sex had always felt so impersonal. A little underwhelming. Eddie breathed out Richie’s name, hand clutching Richie’s shoulder, before trailing his up the back of his neck to curl his fingers in Richie’s hair, and Richie had felt something he’d never felt during sex before. It felt personal, intimate, it felt overwhelming. And he felt a lump in his throat, a compressing of his ribcage, and an all-encompassing urge to say I love you.

So he leant his forehead to Eddie’s and he said it. And Eddie said it back.

“What are you thinking about?” Eddie asks now, in the stripy morning light, hair all fluffy, falling over his forehead. Richie still has Eddie’s hand pressed to his mouth.

“Fucking you,” Richie replies honestly.

Richie swears he sees Eddie go red. “Jesus, I thought you were gonna say breakfast or something. You had that look on your face you get when you think about food.”

“I was. I was thinking about a snack,” says Richie. His eyebrows jump once, twice. “I’m hungry.”

Eddie snorts. “Oh my god.” And then he’s sitting up with a roll of his eyes, a smile. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”

Richie stays in bed. Listens to the sound of the Eddie’s feet pad across the motel’s ugly green printed carpet, the bathroom door shut, the shower turn on with a hiss and water hit the tiles. Then he gets up and follows Eddie into the bathroom. Because those thirty seconds without Eddie had felt long enough.

Richie would say that he decided that he could no longer live without Eddie after Eddie was almost impaled. And they’d scrambled to their feet and slid behind some large rocks and Eddie had looked at Richie wide eyed and breathed, “I almost died,” while Richie’s whole body shook. “Holy shit I almost fucking died, Richie…” Richie could see, in his mind’s eye, the image of Eddie in front of him, pierced right through the middle, so clear it was like it had actually happened. “…Jesus, you saved me, Rich…Richie…” Eddie’s voice softened over the second saying of Richie’s name. Richie looked at him. Eddie’s whole expression had widened, as though he had had a revelation. He cupped Richie’s face in his hands and pressed their mouths together.

(“Holy shit,” Richie had blurted, once Eddie pulled away. And then, because he’s an idiot, joked, almost suggestively, “wanna get out of here?

Eddie had actually laughed. “Let’s kill this fucking clown first.”

“Good call.”)

That should have been the moment that Richie decided he couldn’t be separated from Eddie again. Reasonably. But Richie had decided that the moment he walked into that restaurant, and had felt Eddie’s eyes on him for the first time in twenty seven years.

Eddie isn’t in the shower, when Richie opens the bathroom door. He’s brushing his teeth by the sink, the whole room cloudy from the hot water’s steam.

Immediately, Richie crosses the room to wrap his arms around Eddie’s waist, press kisses the back of his neck.

Eddie makes a hrmph sound around his toothbrush and elbows Richie in the chest. “Not while I’m brushing my teeth,” he says, words all muffled, trying to keep toothpaste from dripping from his mouth. “Feels weird. Distracting.”

“You’re so fussy,” Richie says, but he says it with the kind of affection that would be embarrassing if anyone else had heard him say it. He steps back and waits. But Eddie takes a very long time brushing his teeth. Like, a long time. Richie wonders how Eddie manages to get to work on time every day. Then he imagines what mornings will be like once he and Eddie live together, once they’re married. How Richie will have to bump Eddie out of the way with his hip, just to use the bathroom sink, while Eddie goes through his five-step brushing teeth routine. He thinks he’ll probably be late to work every day, because if he’ll have Eddie Kaspbrak showering in his shower each morning, then Richie is definitely also getting in that shower, and if he and Eddie are in the shower together, they’re definitely going to be doing more than just showering.

Richie can’t fucking wait for that.

His hand instinctively reaches for Eddie again, but Eddie is now flossing his teeth, so Richie lifts his hand over Eddie’s shoulder, and, without really thinking, but also while thinking of their close-enough-to-touch, domestic, married future, writes their initials onto the steamed glass of the mirror with his fingertip. R + E.

It seems silly, but a sort of warmth blooms through him as he lowers his hand and those letters stare back at him. As Eddie looks at the initials curiously, still flossing his teeth. Because the last time Richie wrote that, he’d been alone, anxious, throwing wary glances over his shoulder, all pent up with feeling, thinking Eddie would never like him back. Now he’s with Eddie, who’s wearing Richie’s shirt, who’s slept in Richie’s arms for the past week, and will sleep in Richie’s arms for a thousand other weeks, who wants him back.

“I’ve seen that before,” Eddie says, lowering his hands from his mouth. Richie goes still. Eddie furrows his brow at the steamed mirror, then at Richie, before his eyes widen. “The kissing bridge, back in Derry. R + E. That was carved there.”

“You saw that?” Richie asks. Eddie had never mentioned it when they were kids.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. Richie doesn’t know why he suddenly feels embarrassed. Eddie seems to notice, because now his mouth is widening. “Wait, that was you?”

Richie shrugs.

“Holy shit,” Eddie says. “I used to wonder…but it seemed so stupid. Because why would you carve that? It wasn’t like we were dating. And it wasn’t like you liked me. And it wasn’t like I wanted those to be our initials… These are all my stupid kid thoughts.” Eddie pauses, blinks owlishly at the letters. “Why did you carve that?”

“Uh, because I was an idiot who had a huge fucking crush on you,” Richie says. He reaches out and grabs Eddie waist, would rather pull him close and kiss him than talk about the weird pining shit he did as a kid. But Eddie doesn’t budge. Richie sighs. “I don’t know. I thought it was a way to get my feelings off my chest without telling anyone.”

“That’s…” Eddie considers it. “Really sweet.”

“Don’t call me sweet,” Richie scoffs.

“Richie Tozier is a sweetie,” Eddie says, grinning. “A sweetheart.” Then he turns and draws over the R + E. on the mirror with his finger, because it had started to fade, and adds a heart around the whole thing.

“Now who’s the sweetheart,” Richie says, but he feels so fucking warm that he swears he’s going to burn from the inside out.

“Still you,” says Eddie. He doesn’t resist, this time, when Richie draws him in by his hip, pulls him close. Tilts his head up to meet Richie. “I can’t believe Richie Tozier had such a big crush on me.”

“Me neither,” Richie says. “I mean you were such a fucking weird kid - ” Eddie laughs, ‘shut up’, “but I thought you were the best thing ever. I mean, you’re still fucking weird and I still think you’re the best thing ever.”

“So we’re just gonna pretend like you aren’t also fucking weird and annoying?” Eddie asks.

“I never said annoying,” Richie points out.

“Yeah but I did.”

Richie laughs, and the kind of laugh that only comes out around Eddie. A kind of I love you without words. Eddie grins, plants a hand on Richie’s shoulder, and reaches up to close the gap between their mouths.

The R + E on the mirror fades, until it’s gone.

The R + E on the bridge is still there, when Richie takes Eddie, later that week, to see it.

Eddie takes Richie’s pocket knife, after Richie re-carves the fading letters. And he draws a heart around that, too.

#fix it fic nation !!!#reddie #it spoilers #my writing #long post #im srry to mobile users bc i know the read more isnt gonna work on mobile bc tumblr sucks #this is just way sappier and longer than it needs to be i just wanted to write abt them being happy and in love ok #is that a crime #mine

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softest-cinnamon-roll · 4 years

Note

idk if you're still doing smut prompts but I LOVE ur smut it's some of the best in the fandom u really said soft dom richie rights!!! So..... 1, 24 and 54

1.“Don’t make me take you home and punish you.”24. “Behave.”54. “C’mere. You can sit on my lap until I’m done working.”

(notsfw ahead!)

* * * * *

As much as Eddie adored the Christmas period, there was one thing in particular he hated and that was how busy his fiancé became at work. Normally, Richie would work at the office from 9-5 Monday to Friday, but when the Christmas period comes around, the business just soars, which makes sense since it is a toy company.

Even though all of Richie’s employees would surely be able to work through the influx on their own, Richie wasn’t that kind of CEO to sit back and let other people do all the hard work. If his workers had to stay late, then so would he. Of course, Eddie understood this, but the late hours meant that they barely got to see each other during the month of December, and when they were alone it was mostly spent sleeping.

Therefore that’s why Eddie found himself standing outside of Tozier Toys & Co Headquarters, debating on whether he was being too clingy for wanting to spend some time with Richie, even if he was working. He must have been standing outside for close to twenty minutes, the cold air blowing down his neck and making him shiver.

His thoughts drifted from just spending time with Richie to something much more dirty as he imagined his fiancé warming him up with his hands, moving under his shirt to brush over his nipples while the other slowly made its way down down down to dip under his pants, making his breathing hitch. Not only had they not spent any time together, they hadn’t actually had sex in over a week and Eddie was becoming a little agitated.

With his mind made up, Eddie walked into the main lobby of the headquarters and waved at Daniel, the receptionist who wasted no time pressing the button to allow the elevator to take Eddie up to Richie’s office. The doors closed behind him and Eddie let his eyes fall shut as the floors raised all the way to floor 69, where Richie’s office was located, something that his fiancé took great pride in.

“Mr Kaspbrak! We weren’t expecting you this afternoon!” One of Richie’s assistants gasped as he stepped out of the elevator and made his way over to Richie’s office door. “Would you like me to get you anything?”

Eddie shook his head, “No, it’s alright. Richie’s not in a meeting is he?” He asked and the girl, Lucy, shook her head with a smile, allowing him to continue his way to the door. He knocked twice before pushing the door open, eyes widening at the state of Richie’s office.

The whole of Richie’s office was covered in Christmas Wrapping paper, glitter and well…toys. Eddie had never seen so much mess in his office in the whole five years they had been together and even though it made the OCD in him cringe a little, he also felt a warmth at how invested Richie was in his job at this time of year.

“Eds! Hey, what are you doing here?” Richie asked and Eddie looked around for the source, finding him at his desk with tiny bits of tinsel stuck in his curls. It made Eddie giggle a little and take a few steps closer, careful not to stand on any toys that may be buried under the Christmas paper mess on the floor.

“Missed you,” Eddie shrugged, finally reaching his desk and he leaned over to peck Richie’s lips. From this close, he could see the specks of glitter on his cheeks. “What’s with all the mess?” He asked.

Richie grinned, “You know the Children’s shelter that’s just a few blocks down from our place?” He asked and Eddie nodded his head. Of course he knew, he and Richie donated there as much as they could and even delivered a turkey there for Christmas every year. “I thought this year we could donate some of the toys to the children, so they have something to open on Christmas Day. Apparently, the news caught wind and it’s turned into this big thing. So here I am. I’m almost done for the day though, I just have a few figures to put in the computer and we can go for dinner. How does that sound?”

The whole thing sounded amazing and Eddie nodded his head, biting his lip a little as he moved to the chairs by the window and took a seat. His thoughts were still rife in his mind from earlier, but Richie was working and he didn’t want to distract him with his…not so innocent thoughts.

Richie, however, could read Eddie like a book and when he turned his head, his fiancé was staring back at him with a raised eyebrow. “What?” Eddie asked, cursing his voice for cracking the way it did. “Why are you staring at me?”

“Did you just miss me, Eds? Or is there something you’re not telling me?” Richie asked, dropping his voice low which made Eddie scrunch his eyes shut tight. Richie was using the voice he only used when they were in bed together and he knew the effect it had on him. “Oh I see, you miss me baby. Don’t you?”

The little gasp that left Eddie’s lips told Richie all he needed to know and he leaned back in his chair, patting his lap. Eddie tiled his head to the side, “What?”

“C’mere. You can sit on my lap until I’m done working.” Richie grinned and Eddie wasted no time in scrambling to his feet and over to where Richie was sitting. He straddled his lap, pressing his face into the crook of Richie’s neck, breathing him in as his fiancé rubbed his hands up and down his back soothingly. The softness lasted all but a second as Richie moved his lips to Eddie’s ear and whispered, “If you behave.”

A shudder made its way down Eddie’s spine and he let out a puff of a breath, settling himself in Richie’s lap and trying to keep as still as possible. Even though they were at Richie’s place of work, if Richie wanted to start a scene, then there was no way Eddie was going to protest. Not when he was so high strung.

His good behaviour lasted for about ten minutes. Eddie had remained as still as he could in Richie’s lap, listening to him tap away on his laptop, putting in whatever figures he needed to put in. After about fifteen minutes of Richie refusing to acknowledge he was even there, Eddie became a little needy, rolling his hips to emphasise his point. He wanted attention.

Richie, the asshole, refused to give it to him. Instead of addressing Eddie and his hip roll, Richie just continued to work away as though he hadn’t moved at all. Eddie narrowed his eyes and moved his hips down once more, this time connecting their crotches and allowing a gasp to leave Eddie’s lips. This time, it did get a response from Richie, who moved one of his hands to Eddie’s hip and squeezed it tight. A warning.

“Baby,” Richie started, his voice much lower than before now. “Don’t make me take you home and punish you.” Eddie closed his eyes as a light whimper left his lips and Richie chuckled. “My you are needy baby. Do you want to be punished?” He asked, but it was clear that Eddie wasn’t to answer the question. “Do you want me to take you home and tease you so much that you’re begging to come? Answer me, baby.”

“Yes,” Eddie gasped, going to move his hips down once more but Richie was faster, gripping his hips and holding him still. “Please- please I need you Richie- please.”

Richie tutted a little and removed one hand from Eddie’s hips to grip his chin tightly, making Eddie look at him. “You know that’s not what you call me, baby. Or are you trying to be bad on purpose?”

Slowly, Eddie nodded his head, his cheeks turning bright red. He was that starved for attention that, yes, he had willingly been bad in order to provoke Richie into doing something. Now though, now he was going to pay for that, if the look in Richie’s eye was anything to go off of. “Sir, I’m sorry sir.”

“Better.” Richie hummed. “But I still need to teach you a lesson. Up.” He patted Eddie’s hip and he slipped off of his lap. Richie pulled on his coat and packed away his laptop, allowing Eddie to pull his own jacket back on before holding out his hand for him. “We’re going home, and you’re going to be good for me. Isn’t that right baby?”

Eddie nodded his head once more, keeping himself close to Richie as they walked out of the office and into the elevator. “Y-Yes sir,” he whispered when they were out of earshot. Richie wrapped an arm around his waist to pull him closer, the protective side in him showing.

It didn’t take long after they arrived back at their apartment for Richie to get Eddie naked and on his back, cheeks flushed and body rocking upwards in a desperate plea for attention. Richie had one of those shit eating grins on his face, the one that made Eddie aware he was right where Richie wanted him. Richie knew that Eddie wanted him to touch him, to take him higher and higher just like he always did, and that was also why Richie wasn’t touching him.

His cock was hard and flush against Eddie’s stomach, leaking a little precum as his hands gripped the sheets on either side of his hips. Richie had warned him before they had even entered the apartment complex that he wasn’t to touch himself at all, and if he did there would be serious consequences. Eddie loved to test Richie’s limited, but he knew when to behave.

Currently, Richie was rummaging in their closet, clearly looking for things to pull Eddie apart with. He had been in there for about five minutes when he finally emerged, a wide grin on his face as he bounced over to the bed, dumping the stuff onto the mattress. “I’m going to make you fall apart, baby. You’ll be screaming at me to let you come by the end of the night. That is…if I don’t gag you.” He winked and Eddie whimpered, moving to pull his legs closed.

Richie shook his head, placing his hands on either one of Eddie’s knees and spread them apart once more, clicking his tongue. “Nope baby. Keep them open.” He took a seat on the edge of the bed and trailed his fingers from Eddie’s calf all the way up to his inner thigh and then back down before repeating the process with the opposite leg. Eddie was practically shaking in anticipation for Richie to just touch him already.

“Sir please,” Eddie whimpered, biting down hard on his lip as he gave Richie is best puppy dog eyes. Richie just ignored him and shook his head, gathering his wrists together in his large hands. That was when Eddie noticed the baby blue rope sitting next to Richie on the bed, alongside the other items he had collected. “Sir…”

“Be good,” Richie muttered, securing Eddie’s wrists together and tapping at his hip. “Roll over, onto your stomach and pull your knees up underneath you. Let me see that pretty needy hole of yours.” Eddie moved quickly, getting into the position that Richie had asked of him as well as spreading his knees, earning him a hum of approval from his fiancé. “Now you’re being a good boy. Why could you have been good earlier hm? I could have been balls deep in you by now if you had just done what I’d asked.”

Eddie swallowed thickly, but didn’t say anything. Instead he tried to control the burning heat in his stomach as Richie secured the end of the rope that held his wrists to the bar around the headboard. A gasp left his lips as he felt a cold metal cuff clip around his right ankle and then another around his left. He looked over his shoulder at Richie, who met his eyes with a teasing smirk before he extended the spreader bar, laughing at the gasp that escaped Eddie’s mouth.

“Now, here’s what’s going to happen. I still have some figures to do, since you couldn’t be patient and let me finish.” Richie pondered out loud, trailing his hand up the back of Eddie’s thighs until it was resting on his ass. He paused before Eddie felt the smack and he lurched forward, a moan spilling from his lips. “So I’m going to open you up, and fill you with one of our vibrators.” Just then a two lubes fingers were pressed against Eddie’s rim as Richie pushed them all the way in. “I’m going to turn it on and you are going to just take it. You’re going to stay quiet, no matter what I do, and each time to complain I’ll just add more time on to when you get to come.” Richie started thrusting the two fingers in and out, stretching Eddie open whilst avoiding his prostate. “Understood?”

“Green,” Eddie breathed in reply. Their word for go ahead when they were in a scene. It made things easier to comprehend when Eddie was in his subspace. Green for go ahead, yellow for slow down and red for stop completely. Luckily, in their five years of being together, Eddie had never once had to utter the word red. Yellow maybe, but never red. Richie seemed to just…get him.

Richie pulled his fingers out and soon after Eddie felt the head of one of their vibrators press against his hole and then push all the way past his rim until it was pressed right against his prostate. The sudden feeling of something against his pleasure spot made Eddie lurch forward, but he couldn’t move very far thanks to how Richie had tied him up. A breath left Eddie’s lips as he felt Richie press a kiss to the base of his spine before he moved off of the bed and over to the desk on the other side of the room, pulling out his laptop once more.

One minute turned to two, which turned to five and then ten. The toy buried inside Eddie was still as still and silent as it had been since Richie pushed it in, and Richie was very focused on his work, tapping away on the keys. Yet, Eddie still kept his mouth shut, refusing to complain and add time onto his punishment. He wanted to be able to come ton-

Fuck.

The toy whirred to life inside him, buzzing directly against his prostate, sending bursts upon bursts of pleasure all through Eddie’s body. He let out a deep moan, pulling at the rope around his wrists and the cuffs around his ankles. Not that it was going to do him any good, Richie had him tied up just perfectly. From across the room, Eddie could only just make out the outline of Richie’s smirk.

The movements of the toy seemed to speed up then, faster and harder, making one moan from Eddie to be swallowed up by the next. He could barely keep up and he was going higher and higher, closer and closer to the edge. “O-Oh f-fuck si-sir, please- please, ngh, sir please.” He was so close, right there, right on the edge of complete and utter ecstasy.

Then nothing. Everything stopped and Eddie’s impending orgasm froze right on the edge of realise, falling back down, down until he was left with nothing but frustration. Tears filled up in his eyes as he watched Richie’s shoulders shake in amusement, fingers playing over the remote that came with the toy. Right then, Eddie knew one thing and one thing only.

It was going to be a long, long fucking night.

* * * * *

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

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #writing tag #notsfw

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thestarsaroundyourscars · 5 years

Note

Need at a party with Reddie!

Hi, thank you! One more time I say: Fuck canon.

Read on AO3

Slightly NSFW.

It didn't surprise Richie that only two months after the losers defeated Pennywise, he received a letter announcing that Ben and Bev were getting married. After all, he’d seen them be all over each other not one hour after they left the house on Neibolt and then every minute after that until they all left Derry.

The letter was also an invitation to their engagement party in Ben’s house in New York.

That’s where Richie currently was, sitting on the couch, a beer in his hand and watching the door like a hawk.

“Stop that.” Stan said, he was sitting next to him with Patty on the other side, glaring at Richie’s leg as it bounced uncontrollably. “He will be here okay?”

“What if he changed his mind?” Richie asked, nervously chewing on his bottom lip. “It’s been over two months, maybe everything he said back in Derry⎯ maybe that was only because we had almost just died. Maybe he realized he doesn’t really want me.”

Richie didn’t need to be looking at Stan to know that he was rolling his eyes at him. “He left his wife Richie.”

“Yeah but he didn’t do that for me.”

“No, he did it for himself, but he also told you that he loved you and that he wanted to be with you and that he would be here. You need to trust him.” Stan said calmly, but Richie could hear the underlying you’re being an idiot tone that was usually there when Stan talked to him.

It still surprised Richie just how easily Stan and him had fallen into their old dynamic. It was like the past twenty seven years and the whole forgetting each other thing never happened⎯ just like Eddie never stopped being the love of Richie’s life, Stan never stopped being his best friend.

And as his best friend, it was Stan who Richie went to the night after they defeated Pennywise, after Richie and Eddie confessed their feelings to each other.

Richie hadn’t planned it, Eddie was married and he was pretty sure his feelings were unrequited anyway and the last thing he wanted to do was lose Eddie just as he got him back. But then Eddie had walked out of Richie’s bathroom after a shower, because the one in his room was still covered in blood, and he looked so beautiful and soft⎯ cheeks tinted red, hair wet and curling at the tips, sleeping clothes just slightly big on him⎯ and he was alive and Richie couldn’t help it, he blurted out everything he had kept locked in for thirty years.

After he was done, Eddie simply smiled and said, “I love you too asshole.” Those words were enough to get Richie moving and leaning down to kiss Eddie but he was stopped by a hand on his chest. Eddie was still married and he didn’t want their first kiss to constitute as cheating. Before Richie could argue, Eddie had placed a kiss on Richie’s cheek and said they would talk again when he got divorced.

Tonight was the first time he would be seeing Eddie since Derry, since Eddie’s divorce.

When Eddie said he would be at the engagement party, Richie felt hopeful⎯ for about a second. Then that hope had turned into doubt and now he was worried that Eddie had changed his mind and realized Richie wasn’t the person he wanted to be with.

“Richie, honey?”

Richie had zoned off, he shook his head and grinned. “Yes Patty, dearest?” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Stan’s mouth twitch into a smile.

She smiled knowingly at him. Richie wasn’t sure how much Stan told her about them, but based on the way she stared at him it seemed like she knew everything. Fucking Stan and his big mouth.

“Eddie’s here.” She said.

His head snapped towards the door where Ben was welcoming Eddie in, wrapping him in a hug and accepting the gift in his hands. “Fuck me.” Richie muttered, breath catching in his throat.

He heard Stan snicker, “You wish.” Then Patty lightly smacked his shoulder and lovingly shushed him.

Richie watched as Bev joined the two men by the door, giving Eddie a hug. “What should I do?” He asked, feeling his palms already starting to sweat as he took in how good Eddie looked in his black slacks and his tight button up.

“You should go say hi.” Patty said sweetly.

Richie shook his head, he raised his beer bottle to his lips only to find it empty. “I need another drink first.”

“You’re being an idiot.” Stan said. “And a child. Just go talk to him.”

“Actually, he’s coming our way.”

Patty was right, Eddie had spotted them and he was walking towards their couch, stopping to say hi to Bill and Mike on the way. “Shit shit shit.” Richie muttered and before Stan and Patty could stop him, he left the couch and snuck into the kitchen.

He knew Stan was right, he was being an idiot. He had been anxiously waiting for Eddie to arrive and now that he was here Richie was hiding from him, but he wasn’t ready to face him, to face rejection if it came to that, so instead of going back to the lounging room where the party was happening, he slid into the hallway.

He wandered aimlessly around the house until he finished his beer. Then he stood there, staring at the moon through the glass walls, trying to gather the courage to go face Eddie.

“There you are.”

Well, shit.

Richie spun around, knowing he would find Eddie standing there but even then, his breath caught in his throat again and he could barely get out a weak, “Hi, Eds.”

Eddie’s face scrunched up at the nickname but other than that he ignored it. “Why are you lurking around Ben’s house?”

Richie didn’t want to tell Eddie that he was running away from him so he shrugged. “Uh, Ben said they had a dog, I was just looking for him.”

“Really?” Eddie quirked an eyebrow at him. “Because Stan said you were hiding from me.”

“That bastard.”

“He also said you were worried that I changed my mind about us⎯”

“I’m going to fucking kill him.” Richie groaned, scrunching up his face.

“I don’t think Patty would like that.” Eddie said with a snort. He moved closer to Richie, frowning at him. “Do you really think I changed my mind?”

Richie gave a noncommittal shrug, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, I wouldn’t blame you if you did, all those things we said⎯ we had just gone through a lot, you could’ve said things you didn’t mean.”

“Did you say things that you didn’t mean?”

Richie’s eyebrows flew towards his hairline, he shook his head. “No, fuck no. I meant everything I said, Eds I still do.”

Eddie smiled, reaching over to grab Richie’s hand, it was warm and slightly sweaty, just like his. “Me too.”

Richie bit on his bottom lip to stop his face from breaking into a dopey grin. When that didn’t work, he ducked his head down and stared at their joint hands. “You’re not wearing your wedding ring.”

“Well I’m not married anymore so⎯” He trailed off, taking a step forward and closing the distance between them, their faces were only a few inches away.

“Too bad I’m still married to your mom.” Richie joked.

“Fuck you asshole.” Eddie said, poking Richie’s chest with his finger. His jaw was set and he stared up at him with determination. “I’ve waited two fucking months to do this and I won’t let your trashmouth ruin it.”

Richie cocked his head. “Waited two months to do what?”

Eddie’s answer was to grab Richie by the lapels of his blazer, pull him down and press their lips together. Kissing Richie, hard. There was a moment of hesitation and then Richie’s hands were reaching up to cradle Eddie’s face, their lips moving together.

Eddie sucked Richie’s bottom lip between his teeth, making him groan. He broke them apart and Richie couldn’t help but try to chase after his lips. Eddie chuckled. “That.”

Dazed, it took him a second to realize Eddie was answering his question. He grinned down at him. “Only two months? I’ve been waiting to do that for almost thirty years.” Richie said, watching Eddie’s cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink. “Fuck you’re cute.”

“Shut up.”

“You know what? For the first time, I think I will.” Richie said, leaning down and kissing Eddie again. He ran his thumbs over Eddie’s cheeks and the scar there, coaxing his mouth open. Eddie let go of his blazer, his hands sneaking underneath it, fisting Richie’s shirt. His mouth slipped open and he licked into Richie’s mouth, eliciting a desperate and needy whine from him. He could feel a familiar heat coiling in his stomach.

Crowding Eddie against the wall, Richie slid his thigh between his legs, pressing against him. He could tell that he was half hard already and so was Richie, it was a little embarrassing, that at this age all it took was some kissing but this wasn’t just a kiss, it was a culmination of everything he wanted to do since he was thirteen.

“Richie, Rich.” Eddie gasped, sounding breathless. “We’re at a party, we should⎯” His words trailed off into a moan when Richie caught Eddie’s earlobe between his teeth and bit down. “Fuck Richie, we’re in the middle of the hallway, anyone could walk in.”

Richie leaned back, stared down at Eddie. His cheeks were tinted red and his lips were a pretty kissed-pink and slick with spit. Eddie licked them and Richie followed the movement with half-lidded eyes. “Fuck them. I’ve waited long enough for this.”

Eddie’s thumbs rubbed circles on Richie’s skin, he hadn’t even noticed the moment his hands snuck under his shirt. “I know, me too.” He said, his hips twitching forward against Richie’s erection, making him gasp. “I’m not saying stop, I’m just saying not here.”

Richie swallowed loudly, nodding. “Okay.” He said, looking around them. “How mad do you think Ben will be if we sneak into one of his rooms?”

“I don’t think he’ll notice. He’s too caught up in Bev to care right now.” Eddie said, pushing up on his heels to give Richie another kiss, short but desperate at the same time, before leaving the space between Richie and the wall and starting to drag him to the nearest door. “Besides they owe us, we had to watch them kiss while they were still covered in sewer water, which⎯ gross, man.” Eddie said, scrunching up his nose.

Richie laughed. “I can’t blame them. I wanted to kiss you when we were covered in sewer water. I wanted to kiss you even when you were covered in that black vomit thing.”

“Richie! Stop being gross, you’re killing my boner.”

“Find us a room and I will have you back up in no time, baby.”

Eddie rolled his eyes but Richie could see them darken with lust. He opened a door, took a step inside and stopped.

“What?” Richie asked when he hesitated. “You’re not changing your mind, are you?”

Eddie whirled around, he was frowning. “Do you get a kick out of being obtuse?” Eddie snapped, when Richie only blinked at him, he grabbed his face and kissed him hard enough that he stumbled back. “I’m not changing my fucking mind. I love you. Get that into that big forehead of yours.”

Richie’s face broke into a giddy smile. “I love you too Eds.” Eddie smiled back and started to close the door. “What’s wrong with that room?”

“Oh. I found the dog.” Eddie said, shutting it. “And I’m not traumatizing the poor thing. Let’s find another one, you can pet him afterwards.”

“I like the way you think.” Richie said, letting Eddie drag him to another room, hopefully one with a bed and no dog.

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 @jesuschristsupruvestar @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 @fuck-the-sushi @twoidiotsinl0ve @typewrxter @fcngirltrxsh @spirited-marvel (if you want to be added, let me know!)

#reddie #eddie lives #stan lives #ben and bev get engaged #it's a beautiful world #stanpat #slightly notsfw #monse writes

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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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s-oulpunk · 5 years

Text

Throwing Rocks Outside Your Window (Reddie)

Summary: “Is this the way it’s gonna be all summer?” Eddie asks, voice small.

Richie looks taken aback by the question. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, are you gonna stay over every night?” For a moment hurt flashes in Richie’s eyes, so Eddie hurriedly continues before he can get the wrong idea. “Are you gonna sleep in the same bed as me and then refuse to talk about it in the morning?”

TW: Referenced rape, attempted rape (but nothing explicit)

Read on AO3

Eddie’s asleep when he hears it.

Thunk.

He’s standing in a field, one he’s never seen in his life. But it seems almost recognizable. Richie’s only a foot away from him, blurry in Eddie’s dream-state. As if he’s seeing him through Richie’s own glasses. They always made the world blur together and his head spin.

His head isn’t spinning now, though. It’s crystal clear. He knows he only has one goal: get to Richie.

He steps forward, only to be abruptly stopped. It’s as if he’s walked into an invisible wall.

Thunk.

Curiously, he raises a hand and knocks against the force.

Once.

Thunk.

Twice.

Thunk.

Three times.

Thunk.

He glances at Richie, distraught, but the other boy doesn’t seem to have noticed. His expression is unchanging, staring at Eddie with a smile that makes his heart melt.

Eddie presses a flat palm against the force and waits patiently for Richie to join him.

Richie doesn’t move. Doesn’t step forward. All he does is slowly reach out a hand, as if begging Eddie to come closer.

I can’t, Eddie desperately wants to shout, you have to come here. You have to help me out here.

But he never gets the chance.

Because at that exact moment, he wakes up.

Thunk.

He glances groggily at the window.

For a split second he thinks he’s conjured Richie up with his mind. He dreamt about him, dreamt about begging him to come closer, and he complied. Of course he did.

But that’s ridiculous.

It’s the middle of the night, and he hasn’t even told Richie he’s gotten home yet.

Only, when he goes to peer out the window, it is Richie. He’s standing below him, hair mused and glasses sliding down his nose, with his right hand poised to toss another pebble towards Eddie’s window.

Eddie ignores the way his heart skips a beat.

“Richie?” he hisses. “What’re you doing here?”

The only response Richie offers is, “Jesus Chris, Eds, I was ready to give up on you.”

Eddie shakes his head, hoping it’ll help clear some of the sleep from his brain. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“Can I come in?” Richie asks.

Eddie nods and gestures for him to climb up.

“No, like, through the door,” Richie says, and he looks almost nervous. Feet shuffled and hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans.

“The door?” Eddie wrinkles his nose. “You’ve never wanted to use the door before.”

“I know, but-”

“It’s only like a foot. You’ve climbed it a million times-”

“Eds-”

“You know it’s noisy. My mom will hear it and you know how that’ll end.”

Richie sighs. “Yeah. Yeah, alright. Just give me a hand.”

Eddie isn’t sure why Richie needs a hand, he’s never needed one before, but he reaches out nonetheless.

He doesn’t miss how Richie winces when he moves, or how he grinds his teeth when his feet hit the floor with perhaps a little more force than he intended.

“Is everything alright?” Eddie asks cautiously, moving to shut the window behind him.

“Just peachy.”

“Really?” Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up. “You decide to show up here in the middle of the night and ask to use the front door - which I’ve never heard you ask to do once in all my nineteen years of life - just for, what, kicks and giggles?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Bullshit.”

“What? I can’t miss my Eddie Spaghetti?” Richie reaches out to pinch Eddie’s cheek, and Eddie quickly knocks his hand away.

“Don’t call me that.”

“I see you didn’t miss me.”

His voice is teasing, but it still pulls at Eddie’s heartstrings.

“Of course I missed you,” he says softly. “I just...” He trails off, leaving the sentence dangling in the middle of the room. He just what? ��What could he possibly have to say?

“Aww, did ya?” Richie’s teasing him again, and it washes away any lingering awkwardness Eddie may feel.

Richie laughs as loudly as he dares (which isn’t very loud, with Eddie’s mom asleep in the other room) and sits himself down on the edge of Eddie’s bed.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” he asks, as casually as if he had just asked if he could grab a glass of water.

“Yeah, of course. Are you sure you’re alright?” Eddie, who had noticed the way Richie winced when he sat down, says.

“Mhm,” Richie nods. “Just tired. Night, Eds.”

And with that, he rolls over and burrows into the blankets. He doesn’t even bother to change out of his jeans.

Eddie cautiously climbs in with him, blinking owlishly at his back. He keeps expecting him to turn over, the way he usually does, so they can whisper words one can only hear when you’re an inch from your best friend’s face. But he never does.

It’s only been an hour since Eddie last saw Richie.

They’d spent the day with the rest of the losers, spread out across Bill’s basement like when they were kids. There had hardly been a moment of silence the entire time, everyone rushing to catch the others up on the past year.

Eddie only remembers it in flashes.

He remembers Richie’s babbling about the student radio station at UCLA. He remembers Stan’s grin as he described the birds around his school. He remembers the sparkle in Richie’s eye as he talked about doing stand up at the local cafe. He remembers Bill’s rambling about the new creative writing program. He remembers Richie’s arms around his middle. He remembers Mike’s description of his new dorm room. He remembers the way Richie’s legs tangled with his own as they laid across the old couch. He remembers Bev’s story about the parties she’d stumbled into. He remembers how Richie pulled him flush against him. He remembers Ben’s flushed face as he admitted his daily visits to the campus gym. He remembers the way Richie’s face nuzzled against his shoulder.

He supposes he mostly remembers Richie.

He feels empty without his presence.

Not that he has to worry about that for long.

Thunk.

Something hot surges through Eddie’s veins and he leaps to his feet, nearly tripping over himself in his haste to get to the window. Sure enough, Richie’s staring up at him.

“Hey, ‘Chee!” Eddie grins.

“Hey! Help me up!”

“What? Not even gonna ask?”

Richie rolls his eyes as he wordlessly stretches his arm out towards the window. Instinctively, Eddie grabs him and helps hoist him up.

Richie’s barely made it inside before Eddie’s throwing his arms around his shoulders. Normally, Eddie would have enough sense to hold himself back. But he’s exhausted and his skin is still burning from where Richie held him earlier. He needs to be near him.

“Needy today, are we?”

“Shut up,” Eddie says, but there’s no bite behind it.

Richie chuckles, bringing his arms to rest around Eddie’s waist.

“Can I stay?”

“Of course.”

Eddie’s barely gotten the words out before Richie’s slipping out of his grasp and walking - limping - towards the bed.

“Do you want pajamas?” Eddie asks, ignoring the way his stomach drops.

Richie glances over his shoulder. “Aw, you gonna let me wear your clothes, Eds?” His grin stretches across his entire face, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Fine. Whatever. Wear your jeans.”

“No! You already promised, fork them over, Kaspbrak!”

Eddie digs through his pajama drawer, chucking a pair of shorts and an old T-Shirt in Richie’s general direction.

Richie pulls his own shirt off without a second thought. But Eddie’s own thoughts come to a screeching halt. It’s not that he’s never seen Richie’s chest before, they would go swimming nearly once a week every summer. But he’s never been stripping in Eddie’s bedroom before.

“Enjoying the view, Eds?”

Eddie’s eyes snap back up to Richie’s face just as he drops his pants. Eddie wills his face to keep cool.

“Shut up, asshole.”

“So harsh.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, hoping his actions don’t betray how his stomach twists at the sight of Richie in his clothes.

“Yeah, I’m so mean for letting you take over my entire bedroom nearly every day.”

“Aw, you love it.”

Eddie doesn’t give him the pleasure of a response, because in all honesty, he does love it. He loves having this extra time with Richie. He loves having him all to himself.

He slips into bed beside him, frowning as Richie once again turns himself away.

“Rich?” he whispers, voice barely audible to his own ears.

But, apparently, Richie can hear it. He offers a small, “Hmm?” in response.

Eddie taps his shoulder blade gently, continuously jabbing his finger just under the bone, until Richie gives in and rolls over to face him. His eyes are shining slightly, the veil of tears hardly visible in the dull moonlight.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks. It’s not what he meant to ask. But it’s what comes out.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Okay,” mutters Eddie, even though the lie is obvious. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“Love you too, Eds.”

Eddie shuffles closer until there’s less than an inch between them. But he keeps his arms tucked close to his chest, careful not to touch the other boy.

“Richie?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we...” he hesitates, chewing uncertainly on his lower lip. Is he really about to ask this? “Can we cuddle?”

Richie’s eyebrows shoot up. Eddie thinks he sees a tear slip out. But he quickly shakes that thought away. It’s just his brain playing tricks on him. It must be.

“You want to cuddle?”

Eddie’s mind runs wild. What if he misread what happened at Bill’s? What if it’s all a joke to Richie? What if he knows what he really means?

Despite all this, he gives one, sharp nod.

Wordlessly, Richie closes the gap between them. His arms come to wrap around Eddie’s waist, and Eddie likes to think the way his hold is just a little too tight is Richie’s way of telling him, hey. I feel it too. I want it too.

Eddie buries his face in Richie’s chest, taking his chance to breathe him in. He can never pinpoint exactly what his smell is, he was never good at that, but his scent has always been distinctly safe. Not that Eddie could ever say that out loud, Richie would probably laugh him out of town if Eddie ever admitted it. But something about the way Richie smells never ceases to calm his nerves.

“Goodnight,” Eddie murmurs, fingers curling around the T-Shirt hugging Richie’s form.

Richie never responds.

“Do you ever sleep at home?”

“I’m at home all day,” Richie says. It’s a lie. He’s out with the losers all day. “Besides, I’m an adult. I’m allowed to sleep wherever I want.”

Eddie, who witnessed Richie attempting to shovel an entire bag of jellybeans in his mouth just earlier that day, pointedly disagrees with this supposed adult claim. But he doesn’t say anything.

“Right.” Eddie chucks a new pair of pajamas at his friend. The ones from Richie’s last visit currently adorn Eddie’s own figure.

He flops onto the bed, choosing to stare up at the ceiling rather than relive the torture of watching Richie change again. If he had chosen the latter, then maybe he would’ve seen the bruises littering Richie’s chest and thighs.

But he didn’t. The only hint he has about these things is the grunt Richie lets out when he lands next to Eddie on the bed. Eddie can hear the pain in his voice, but he’s learned not to ask anymore.

“Is this the way it’s gonna be all summer?” Eddie asks, voice small.

Richie looks taken aback by the question. “What do you mean?”

“What’s there to talk about?”

Eddie shrugs. “I guess I don’t know. I just thought-”

“We’ve been doing this for years, Eddie.”

“I guess.”

“What’s different now?”

“I-” Eddie hesitates. He’s not sure. He knows something is different. He’s positive this is different from when they were thirteen and Richie would sneak in during those days Eddie’s mother was being particularly controlling. But he’s not sure how. He settles on, “We’re older now. And you refuse to talk to me. You sleep here and won’t even look at me most nights.”

“I’m tired,” Richie says simply. “I just wanna be with you, Eds. We don’t need to talk-”

“Do you know?” The words spill out of Eddie’s mouth without meaning to. They make his veins go cold and his hands go numb, but a part of him is glad they’re out. Maybe things will turn out in his favor. There has to be a reason Richie’s here every night, right?

“Do I know what?”

Eddie gnaws quietly on his fingernails. A trait he’s spent years trying to repress. He supposes it’s a bit ironic it’s coming up now.

Richie gently grabs Eddie’s hand, guiding it away from his mouth.

“Eddie. Do I know what?”

Eddie twists his neck to gaze at Richie, but the moment their eyes lock, Eddie’s tongue suddenly feels too big for his mouth. He tries to get it out - he really does - but the only sound he can make is a vague choking noise.

Richie squeezes his hand gently, as if to say, it’s okay. I’m right here. At least, that’s what Eddie would like to believe he’s saying.

Eddie tears his eyes away from his friend, focusing instead on the beige ceiling. Boring. He wishes Richie were that boring. Then maybe he wouldn’t be having this problem.

He clears his throat, as if making room for the words about to escape.

“That I’m in love with you.”

Richie’s hand - the one holding Eddie’s - goes limp, but he doesn’t pull away.

“We can’t talk about this.”

Eddie’s run this scenario through his head for the last six years. He’s gone over every possibly response - good and bad. But never in his wildest dreams had he considered this. And, somehow, it’s the worst possible answer.

“What?” Eddie winces at the way the word comes out more like a sob than anything else.

“I’m sorry-”

“You’re sorry?”

“Eds-”

“Richie what does that mean?”

“It’s just - we just can’t talk about it. It can’t happen.”

Eddie’s suddenly hyper aware of the hand still interlaced with Richie’s and he snatches it away as if he’s been burned. Richie doesn’t put a fight, but if Eddie had turned he might have noticed the tears threatening to fall in Richie’s own eyes.

“Alright,” Eddie says, hoping Richie doesn’t notice the way his voice wobbles. “Well, I’m sorry for bringing it up. You can go if you like. Wouldn’t want it getting out you shared a bed with the local fag.”

“Eds-”

“Goodnight, Richie.” His voice is sharp enough to shut Richie up for once. The silence is almost painful.

For the first time, Eddie’s the one to sleep facing away from Richie.

And if Eddie lets his tears fall in the safety of the dark, neither of them would discuss it in the morning.

Thunk.

Eddie’s tempted not to answer.

Thunk.

He’s tempted to just leave Richie outside.

Thunk.

He’s tempted to teach Richie just how painful it is to be locked out.

Thunk.

But he can’t do that. Despite everything, he still loves Richie. So he storms his way to the window and throws it open, not bothering to help Richie up this time. He regrets that the tiniest bit when he hears the ragged breath Richie lets out.

But he doesn’t have time to ask about it.

“Gee, Eds, what were you doing up here? I was starting to think you were gonna abandon me out there.”

“Thought about it,” Eddie deadpans.

“Aw, c’mon. I know you love me-”

That, combined with the way Richie ever so casually comes up behind Eddie and throws his arms around his shoulders, causes something to snap inside Eddie.

“Fuck off!” he snarls, gripping Richie’s wrist and chucking it as far away from himself as possible.

He practically throws himself onto his bed, pulling the covers all the way up to his chin. If he can’t be safe in Richie’s grip, this is a close second.

“Eds,” Richie sighs, crossing so he’s kneeling in front of Eddie’s face. “You can’t keep being like this. Everyone’s noticed.”

“Oh how hard for them.”

“I don’t want this to ruin our friendship. I lov-”

“Then maybe you should fucking talk to me!” Eddie spits.

“I-”

“You can’t? How fucking funny. That’s fucking crazy. What a fucking wonderful conversation we’re having right now.”

“Eddie, please. Can’t we just act like everything’s okay?”

“You just want to ignore it?” Eddie shouts incredulously.

“I-”

“Well I can’t, Rich. I’m sorry if that’s inconvenient for you.”

“I’m sor-”

“Look, you can stay here tonight. Just be quiet, okay?”

Eddie barely gives Richie time to nod before he’s turning away from him.

The last thing Eddie hears is a soft, “Goodnight, Eds.”

“I really need to use the front door.”

“Richie, we’ve had this conversation. It’s too dangerous, my mom-”

“Eddie, please. I really can’t make it up this time.”

Something in Richie’s voice makes him break. Something about how raw he sounds, something about how his voice breaks when he pleads.

“Alright,” Eddie nods. “Meet me out front. Be careful.”

Richie nods hurriedly and stumbles around the corner.

Eddie’s in less of a hurry. Each step seems to take an eternity. His heart is just about beating out of his chest the entire time. The front door squeaks as it opens and Eddie nearly shrieks in terror. All in all, it’s one of the more terrifying experiences of his life.

But, by some miracle, they make it back to Eddie’s room without disturbing Sonia Kaspbrak’s slumber.

Eddie doesn’t let himself breathe until his bedroom door is securely shut behind them. But once it is, he immediately wheels around on Richie.

“Why the fuck did you need to use the front door?”

And that’s when he sees them.

Bruises - or perhaps one large bruise - litter Richie’s neck. His original skin tone is barely visible, hidden behind a curtain of purple and yellow.

Eddie gently brings his hand up to brush against the nape of Richie’s neck, briefly forgetting their little tiff. But when Richie flinches, Eddie quickly snatches his hand back to himself.

“Sorry,” he says. “What happened? Are these finger prints? Who did this to you?”

“Relax, Eds,” Richie says, and Eddie winces at how hoarse he sounds. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine!” insists Eddie. “You have someone’s hand imprinted on your neck! How is that fine?”

“Just drop it.”

“No!”

Richie pointedly ignores him, instead taking it upon himself to search through Eddie’s pajamas.

“You want to ignore every other problem in your life? Fine. But you can’t ignore this! I won’t ignore this!”

“It’s not your problem, Eddie.”

“You’re my best friend, it is my problem.”

“That doesn’t make it your problem.”

“You came to me.”

“So?”

“So if you’re going to come to me with your problems, then you’re gonna have to deal with me trying to fix them.”

Richie sighs as he sits on the edge of Eddie’s bed. “I just don’t wanna be alone right now.”

“You don’t have to be,” Eddie says, rushing to sit by his side. “I promise. But I’m not going to just sit here and-”

“It was Patrick.”

Eddie’s taken aback by the sudden admittance of truth. “Hockstetter?”

Richie nods. “Mhm.”

“How did you run into Patrick at this hour?”

“I-” Richie suddenly looks like he’s thirteen again. Scared and vulnerable and unsure of his place in the world. It makes Eddie want to hold him in his arms and pull him as close as possible, to reassure him he won’t let anything happen to him. So he does. He wraps Richie in his arms and pulls him closer until his head in buried in Eddie’s shoulder. “I met up with him.”

“What‽” To say that is not what Eddie was expecting would be an understatement. “Why‽”

“It’s complicated,” Richie whispers. “A few days before you got home, Bowers and his gang caught me...” he fiddles his fingers, twisting and turning until the skin around his knuckles have gone white. “I was re-carving something. On the kissing bridge. And they figured out what it meant. And now they know...” He takes a shaky breath, and his hand shoots up to grasp the hand Eddie has around his shoulders. “And now they know I’m gay. And I guess Patrick is also -” He clears his throat hurriedly “- gay. And he...he wanted a supposed willing participant in...certain activities. And I dunno. I didn’t know how to get out of it without, ya know, dying.”

Eddie tries to push his own emotions to the back of his head. It doesn’t matter what he thinks. It doesn’t matter what he feels. Richie’s hurt. Richie needs help.

“It kind of looks like you’re dying anyway, ‘Chee.”

Richie chuckles quietly. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“So you’ve been coming here-”

“Straight from Patrick’s,” Richie says. “I’m sorry. I just can’t stand being on my own. The first few times I went home afterwards but all I could think about was his hands all over me and I felt gross and dirty. And then one day I remembered you were supposed to be getting in town so I figured: Hey, why not go check? And then it was so much easier to sleep at night when you were snoring beside me. I know that’s ridiculous-”

“No!” Eddie says. “No, it’s not ridiculous. You’re okay, ‘Chee. You’re alright.” He tightens his hold on his friend. “I won’t let him get to you. Not in here.”

Richie nods, burrowing closer to Eddie. “Can we go to bed?”

“Yeah. Of course. Of course. Do you wanna get changed first?”

Richie nods wordlessly, gathering the pajamas he had abandoned on the floor. He doesn’t move from his place on the bed, instead opting to awkwardly shimmy out of his jeans. Eddie sucks in a sharp breath as he finally notices the bruises across the rest of Richie’s body. But he doesn’t comment.

As soon as Richie’s gotten his pajamas on, he tugs Eddie under the blankets and curls up next to him. Eddie wraps his arms around him, holding him just a little too tightly. The only thing on his mind is to replicate the safety he feels when Richie’s holding him.

Richie presses himself as close to Eddie as he possibly can, as if he’s trying to melt into him.

“I love you,” Eddie murmurs. “I’m gonna help you get out of this, okay?”

“You can’t-”

“I will.”

He drops a kiss to Richie’s forehead, for once ignoring the way his head screams at him to pull away.

“I love you too, Eds.” The words are muffled by Eddie’s T-Shirt, but they pump Eddie’s heart full of sunshine.

Eddie shuffles closer, twisting their legs together. There’s hardly a centimeter of space between them, but Eddie desperately wants to bring them even closer. It’s the only thing he can think to do to protect Richie. And, right now, protecting him is the only thing on Eddie’s mind.

Various scenarios where Eddie saves Richie from Patrick’s vicious grasp flit through his brain. But none of it is realistic. None of it could happen. For now, all he can do is hold him and hope.

The last thing he hears is Richie’s voice, slurred with sleep, “It should’ve been you.”

The next time Richie crawls through his window, Eddie’s quick to give him pajamas and let him curl up next to him, but he doesn’t say much. How could he? What’s he supposed to say?

Sometimes he imagines giving Richie a piece of his mind. He lays in bed, staring up at the ceiling, and pictures the whole conversation in his head.

How could you say that? He would shout. How could you wish something so awful upon me? After all I’ve done for you?

But then Richie shows up for real. And Eddie can’t bring himself to say any of it. Not when Richie looks so tired and beaten up already. Eddie can’t contribute to that. No matter how upset he is.

So, for the next three nights, the two of them hardly say a word to each other.

Eddie’s sure Richie can feel it. He can tell in the way Richie’s movements are nervous and careful, as if worried he might frighten him. He can tell in the way Richie avoids making direct eye contact with him. He can tell in the way Richie had never again initiated any sort of cuddling. In fact, he’s gone back to sleeping with his back to Eddie.

Not that Eddie notices. Or cares. He’s started sleeping with his back to Richie as well.

Even the other losers have noticed. During the day Richie’s still the same old Richie. He’s jokes and laughs and pokes fun at all of them. Eddie’s stopped laughing, stopped responding, stopped rolling his eyes. Most of the time, he acts as if he hadn’t even heard him.

And it tears his heart in two. Because every time Richie says something, Eddie can feel his gaze on the back of his head. Waiting for Eddie’s reply. But it never comes.

Sometimes the need to respond - to let Richie know he still cares - is so strong Eddie feels as if he’s on fire. And he almost sidles up next to Richie again, letting their arms brush together ever-so-slightly. Just to tell him, I’m here. I’ll always be here.

But then he remembers what he said. And the fire turns to ice.

So when Richie crawls through his window tonight, there are pajamas folded carefully on the foot of the bed and enough room in said bed for Richie to sleep comfortably without having to touch Eddie. But Eddie’s already asleep.

“Okay, what’s wrong?”

Eddie blinks blearily up at Richie. The window is closed again and Richie’s changed into Eddie’s pajamas. He’s also pulled all the covers off Eddie and is currently standing above him, arms crossed and eyes full of fire.

“Dude, what the fuck?” groans Eddie. “Give me my blankets back.”

“No! It’s not my fault you’re cold all the time!”

“At this moment, it is. Because you’re the one who stole the blankets.”

“You can have them back if you tell me what’s been going on with you,” Richie reasons, looking smug with himself.

“Are you fucking serious?” Eddie hisses, because how could he not know? “Now you wanna talk?”

“You’re still hung up on that?” Richie spits. “That was forever ago! I spilled my entire guts to you like a week go, do you not remember that?”

“I remember.”

“Good. Then why are you acting like a piece of shit.”

“Me?” Eddie shouts incredulously, finally shooting upright. “I’m the one acting like a piece of shit?”

“Yeah!” Richie cries out. “I told you everything and the very next day you outright refused to talk to me!”

“And you’re surprised by that?”

“Yes! The night before you said you were gonna help me. You said you loved me.”

“I am helping you. I thought you said letting you stay here was helping you.”

“Not like this,” Richie insists. “This is so much worse than sleeping at home.”

“Then sleep at home!”

“No! I want to know what’s wrong!”

“Jesus, Rich,” snarls Eddie. “How are you so fucking stupid? You can’t say shit like that to people and then expect them not to be pissed-”

Richie’s facade crumbles. The anger falls away, and he’s left with nothing but hurt and fear. It almost makes Eddie want to pull him close again. Almost.

“This is because of what I told you?” he whispers. “Are you - Do you - Do you think I’m dirty?”

His eyes are wide and vulnerable, basically pleading for Eddie to give him an answer. He looks like one of the answers might shatter his entire world.

“No,” Eddie says. “No, of course not. I don’t-”

“Then why? What did I say, Eds?”

Tears are spilling out of Richie’s eyes now. Eddie wants to turn away, to act as if he never saw them. But it’s too late. It’s too late and now he couldn’t look away if his life depended on it.

Richie’s hands are shaking and his nose is snotty and his breath is ragged and he seems to have an array of brand new bruises and it’s all just too much for Eddie. Suddenly the thought of fighting back is the worst idea Eddie’s ever had in his life. Suddenly the words on his tongue are too vile even to think about.

So, even though it should be obvious, Eddie tells him. “Right before we went to bed. You said it should’ve been me.”

“Oh.” Richie moves to sit next to him, but keeps his hands to himself. “I didn’t know you heard that. I thought you were asleep.”

“Would that have made it okay? Suddenly it’s less fucked?”

Richie’s shoulders shake. Eddie wants to steady them. He also hates the thought of touching them.

“I thought you liked me,” Richie whispers, not bothering to hide how his voice shakes.

Eddie falters. That wasn’t a response he was expecting.

“I do,” he says. “But that doesn’t mean you can say whatever the fuck you want.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I know what you’re going through is rough,” Eddie says. “And you can do whatever you need to to get through it - I won’t stop you. But I just - it was scary.”

“Yeah. It’s scary,” Richie whispers. “But it would’ve been nicer with you.”

And suddenly the fire is back, surging through Eddie’s veins at an almost alarming pace.

“You think Patrick would’ve enjoyed fucking me more?” he snarls.

Richie blanches. “What?”

“That’s what you meant, right?” Eddie sneers. “It should’ve been you. I should’ve been the one Patrick set his eyes on. Right?”

“Eds. No. That’s not what I meant.” Richie dives forward, grabbing Eddie’s hands in his own. “That’s not at all what I meant. Holy shit.”

“What else could you have fucking meant?” Eddie spits, trying to pull his hands out of Richie’s grasp. But Richie holds on tight.

“I meant you should have been the one to take my virginity,” Richie says. “I didn’t - God. Patrick would never deserve you, not in a million years.”

“You - What?” Eddie can barely get the word out. He feels as if his brain has short circuited.

“Yeah,” Richie murmurs. “That should’ve been yours.”

“But - But - But you said you didn’t like me. Not like that. You said-”

“I know, I know. I’m so sorry.” Richie looks sorry. He looks like he’s about to fall apart. “It was just because of Patrick. I didn’t want you to get involved. I didn’t want anything to happen to you.” He takes Eddie’s face between his hands, grinning through the tears pouring out from beneath his glasses. “I like you so much, Eds. So much it hurts.”

Eddie nods. Because he understands. He understands exactly what he means.

“Kiss me?” he says, breathless.

“Eddie-”

“I don’t care about Patrick. I don’t fucking care what he might do to me. I just - I want to kiss you. Please, ‘Chee?”

And then Richie’s leaning forward, guiding Eddie’s face towards him as he goes. And suddenly he’s kissing him, and it might be the best thing to have ever happened in Eddie’s whole life.

“I have good news.” Richie punctuates his sentence with a burning kiss to Eddie’s lips. “I have really good news.”

“Really? Because you look like someone tried to kill you.” It’s a joke, but it comes out more worried than Eddie intended. He can’t help it though. He is worried. He’s always worried.

“That’s part of the good news,” Richie insists. He’s bouncing on his feet as if he can’t even feel the bruises blooming across his skin.

“I can’t see how-”

“I told Patrick I wasn’t coming back.”

Richie looks so proud of himself, grinning despite the purple splotches beneath his eye and the crack in his glasses.

“Did you really?” Eddie says, feeling breathless.

Richie nods furiously. “I mean, you can probably tell it didn’t go great. But I think this is the first step to something good!”

“Yeah!” Eddie says. And then, because he can’t think of anything else, “Yes! Yes! OhmyGod!” He pulls Richie into a hug, fingers digging into his shoulders in his haste. “This is really good, Rich!” Then, softer, “I’m really proud of you.”

“Thanks,” murmurs Richie, his fingers carding through Eddie’s hair. “It’s all thanks to you, Eds.”

“No. No, no way. This is all you.” Eddie pulls away from the hug only to slot his lips against Richie’s. “You were brave all on your own.”

Richie sighs softly, his hand dropping from Eddie’s hair to rest against the back of his neck.

“I love you,” Richie says softly. “I love you so much. I’m so sorry it had to happen this way.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie says, his lips fumbling against Richie’s as he speaks. “It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault.”

Richie pulls him into another kiss, his free hand coming to rest against Eddie’s hip. Eddie can’t help but grin. This is what the rest of his life will look like, he’s just decided. Just him and Richie and far too much love in their hearts. The thought fills him with a sense of calm he hasn’t felt in years. Maybe hasn’t ever felt.

But Eddie’s never allowed to feel calm for long.

Thunk.

Eddie’s first thought is, Richie! But Richie’s right next to him. Richie’s fastened between his arms.

So then who the fuck is at his window?

Richie’s white as a sheet, and Eddie doesn’t understand why until he turns and sees a Cheshire Cat smile staring at him from behind the glass.

“Holy shit,” he whispers.

Patrick knocks again. A silent question, let me in? No, not a question. A demand. Let me in!

Eddie shakes his head. He won’t. He can’t. He promised.

“C’mon, Kaspbrak,” Patrick says, grinning like a shark poised to kill. “Don’t be a prude, let me in.”

Don’t be a prude. What does that mean? What does that mean?

“Let me in!”

Thunk!

His fist slams against the window.

“Let me in!”

Thunk!

Again.

“Let me in!”

Thunk!

“Let me in!”

Thunk!

“Let me in!”

Crack!

Patrick’s eyes are wide and crazed, darting between Richie and Eddie as if deciding on his next meal. He’s still grinning, but his voice, though muffled through the glass, is like jagged glass on a beach. Sharp and dirty and dangerous and strangled. Eddie’s a bit worried his vocal cords may snap. Actually, he’s hoping his vocal cords snap.

Speaking of which, Patrick’s fist is hovering over a large crack in Eddie’s window.

Eddie’s mom is going to kill him.

Fuck. His mom.

His eyes dart wildly towards his bedroom door. If she finds out about any of this he’ll be locked up for the rest of the summer.

Richie follows his eyes and, catching his train of thought, reaches over to squeeze Eddie’s hand.

“Open it, Eds,” he says softly.

“What? No!”

“He’s going to shatter your fucking window, Eddie. Just let him in.”

“No! He can’t be in my house. He can’t. It’s supposed to be safe here. It’s supposed to be safe! He can’t come in!”

Crack!

Eddie flinches as Patrick slams his fist against the window once more. The crack widens.

Despite the pleading look in Richie’s eye, Eddie shakes his head. He won’t. He won’t willingly endanger them. If Richie wants to open the window he’s going to have to work up the nerve to do it himself, because Eddie won’t.

Except that’s exactly what Richie does. He marches towards the window and throws it open, standing stiff as a board as Patrick clambers in.

He glances casually around the room, as if he hadn’t been screaming bloody murder a second ago. He takes in the pristine desk, the off-white walls, the unopened pill bottles lined up in a perfect row. He takes it all in. And fucking smirks.

“Well, Rich, if I had known you were coming here for sloppy seconds, I might have joined ya.”

The blood drains from Richie’s face. “That’s not what happened.”

Patrick cocks his head curiously. “Funny. That’s not what it looked like.”

Richie squeezes his eyes shut. The clear mantra of fuckfuckfuckfuck repeating in his head. It only makes Patrick’s grin widen. He reaches out to run his fingers through Richie’s hair, tugging until Richie gives in and steps closer.

They’re chest to chest now and Eddie’s blood boils at how Patrick’s hand ever so casually slips into Richie’s back pocket.

“Do you have something to say to me, Richie?” Patrick says, his voice low and dangerous. The same tone he had moments before he helped Henry break Eddie’s arm clean in half all those summers ago. It makes Eddie’s hair stand on end.

Richie shakes his head. Or he tries to. There’s not much he can do with Patrick’s hold on him.

“No?” Patrick tugs harder, pulling Richie’s head back to put his neck on full display. “Are you sure?”

The moment Patrick’s lips touch Richie’s neck, Eddie’s trance in broken. Something snaps inside him. He promised Richie he would be safe. This was supposed to be the one place he wouldn’t have to worry. He had promised.

Eddie lurches forward, tearing Richie out of Patrick grasp. Richie yelps as a fistful of hair is left behind between Patrick’s fingers and while the sound makes Eddie want to die inside just a little bit, it’s still better than the alternative.

Eddie quickly pushes Richie behind him, keeping one hand loosely around Richie’s wrist. He points the other accusingly at Patrick. “You need to get the fuck out of my house.”

“Finally decided to grow a backbone, Kapsbrak?”

Eddie’s glare holds steady, even as Patrick saunters towards him, a mocking pout on his lips.

“Too bad,” he says with a sigh. “I almost liked it better when all it took to break you was a few hits. You were always a blubbering mess by the time we were through with you.”

Before Eddie’s even had a chance to process the words, he’s being slammed against the mattress. He struggles and kicks and squirms but Patrick’s always been bigger and stronger than him, it would have been silly to think that would change now. It doesn’t take much before Patrick’s straddling Eddie’s waist, trapping him beneath his weight, and pinning his arms above his head with one hand.

“Maybe this will be fun,” he says, reaching up to pinch Eddie’s cheek with his free hand. “I had forgotten how feisty you were, Eds.”

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie spits. It’s not like when he tells Richie. Richie knows he doesn’t mean it. Richie knows, deep down, that Eddie likes the nickname. Likes the attention Richie gives him. Today, right now, he means every word.

“Patrick, come on, don’t do this.” Richie’s hidden from Eddie’s eyesight, overshadowed by the monster on top of him, but his voice still does wonders to calm Eddie’s nerves. It’s not like he’s at a fucking spa or anything, but at least he knows he’s still there. “Please.”

“Don’t worry, Rich, you can join us in a moment,” Patrick drawls. His hand trails down Eddie’s face, lingering at his neck. His fingers wrap around Eddie’s throat, tight enough to be uncomfortable (not that Eddie can imagine any situation where this is comfortable), but not quite cutting off the airflow yet.

Yet. That’s an important part of the sentence.

Eddie knows it’s coming. He knows he’s going to have his own set of bruises to match Richie’s in just a few hours.

The thought makes hot tears prick at his eyes. No matter how hard he tries to make them go away, they slip out. They slide down his cheeks like a hot knife sliding through butter. The horror that fills his chest only makes them come faster, which only adds to the horror. It’s a horrible cycle, really.

Patrick grins down at him. “There it is.”

The fingers around Eddie’s throat are just starting to tighten, jagged nails digging into his flesh, when suddenly Richie’s there, arms draped over Patrick’s shoulders and lips nipping at his neck.

“I missed you,” Richie says, eyelashes fluttering. “You can’t leave me out like this.”

In a moment of distraction, Patrick’s hands fall away from Eddie’s wrists, instead opting to tangle themselves in Richie’s hair.

Even though his hands are free, Eddie can hardly move. He feels as if hundred pound weights have been tied to his arms.

“But you’ve been bad,” Patrick drawls. “Don’t you think I should punish you?”

“Mhm,” Richie says, hands massaging over Patrick’s chest.

His eyes flick towards Eddie, then towards the lamp on the bedside table. Then back to Eddie.

Richie’s voice is light and teasing, but his eyes are anything but. Do it, they say, do it now.

And Eddie could never disappoint Richie. So Eddie drags one trembling hand across the mattress.

“What should I do to you?” Patrick growls.

Eddie’s nearly to the edge of the mattress.

Richie bats his eyelashes. “Whatever you think is necessary.”

Eddie’s fingers spill over the edge.

A smirk splits across Patrick’s face. “I like the sound of that.”

Eddie’s fingertips graze across the edge of the desk.

“I thought you might,” Richie says, trapping his lower lip between his teeth.

Eddie’s fingers close around the neck of the lamp. Before he can second guess himself, he lifts the lamp into the air and smashes it across Patrick’s face, just barely missing Richie’s head. Patrick lets out a shriek that under normal circumstances Eddie would fear would wake his mother, and nearly topples off the bed. Eddie quickly squirms out from underneath him, pulling Richie with him as he goes, and brandishes the half smashes lamp in Patrick’s general direction.

“Get the fuck out of my house,” he snarls.

Patrick stumbles, hand clutching the side of his face. Blood spills from between his fingers, dribbling down his chin and landing in little splotches along Eddie’s floor.

“Didn’t think you had it in you Kapsbrak,” Patrick says, eyeing his red-stained hands curiously.

“I’m fucking serious,” Eddie says, ignoring the way his voice trembles. “Get out.”

Patrick steps forward. Eddie’s knees buckle, begging to be at least one step further from Patrick, but he stands his ground.

Eddie’s still clutching the half-shattered lamp, though he’s suddenly not so sure what he plans to do with it.

“Oh?” Patrick says. “You gonna make me? How do you plan to do that?”

Richie’s there in an instant, a loose shard of the lamp clutched in his fist. He plunges the shard into Patrick’s shoulder, blood spurting across his face.

“Get out,” he growls. “Get out or I swear I’ll kill you.”

Patrick doesn’t look scared. In fact, he looks almost pleased. Like this is the exact outcome he wanted. But he starts to stumble towards the window anyway.

“You’re dead,” he says. “You better pray we don’t find you tomorrow because you’re fucking dead.”

With one yank, he pulls the shard out of his shoulder and chucks it in Eddie’s general direction. It lands at his feet with a hollow clatter. And then he’s gone. Leaps out the window and disappears into the night.

Richie slams the window shut, breathing heavy and ragged.

“Holy shit,” he whispers.

“He was in my house,” Eddie mutters. He slowly sinks to the ground, pulling his knees up against his chest. “He was in my house. He was in my fucking house.”

In a flash, Richie’s at his side. He pulls Eddie against his chest, gently running his hands up and down his back.

Richie doesn’t say anything, there’s nothing to say. No words of comfort can truly be comforting after an attack like that. So they just sit in the quiet, sharing silent tears.

Eddie’s not sure how long they sit like that. In reality, it’s probably only been a few seconds. But it feels as if it’s been hours when his bedroom door starts to shake.

His breath catches in his throat, frozen terror settling in his veins, as he considers the possibilities. Is Patrick back? Did he bring friends? Have they hurt his mother?

Ironically, it’s his mother’s voice that screeches through the door a moment later.

“Eddie-kins? Why’s this door locked? What’s going on in there?”

Eddie lets out a breath.

“It’s fine, ma,” he says, fighting to keep his voice steady. “Just fell out of bed.”

“Are you hurt? Let me in!”

“No, no, I’m fine. I promise.”

“I thought I heard yelling-”

“I’m fine, ma! Just go back to bed.”

Eddie buries his head in his knees as his mother’s retreating footsteps echo down the hall.

“She heard everything,” he whispers. “She heard everything and waited until afterwards to come and check. I could’ve been dead, ‘Chee!”

Richie threads his fingers through Eddie’s hair. “I know. But you’re not. You’re alright.”

“But-”

“You’re alright.”

And Eddie believes him.

“Can you stay?” he whispers into the soft material of Richie’s T-Shirt.

He feels Richie nod more than sees him. “Of course.”

Eddie slips out of Richie’s grasp and although he misses his warmth immediately, he knows it has to be done. He tugs the blankets off the bed, bundling them in his arms before scattering them around the cleanest patch of floor he can find.

Richie watches him intently, but for once doesn’t say a word. Because he knows why. He understands. He wouldn’t want to sleep in his bed either after that.

He follows Eddie’s lead, cocooning themselves amongst the loose blankets. He wraps an arm around Eddie’s middle, gripping him as if worried he might disappear, and buries his nose in his hair.

Neither of them sleep much that night, opting instead to share hushed whispers and secret smiles. But who can blame them?

Thunk!

Eddie nearly leaps out of his skin at the noise. He tuns, half expecting to see Patrick grinning back at him. But the only person there is Richie.

His glasses are still cracked and bruises (though lighter now) still litter his skin, but he’s grinning like he’s the happiest man on earth. He looks better. A lot better.

Eddie scurries over to open the window, a laugh bubbling out of his throat as Richie awkwardly clambers inside.

“Climbed up all on your own today I see,” Eddie says.

“Yep!” Richie grins. “Aren’t you proud of me?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Do I get a reward?”

Eddie rolls his eyes. But, simply because he physically cannot resist Richie, he leans over and gently pecks his lips.

“Good?” he says, voice soft as velvet.

“Good enough for now,” Richie drawls. His eyes dart around the room. It has returned to its usual spotless state, the shattered lamp nowhere to be scene and the floor scrubbed until the blood was only a memory. “Is this where you were all day?”

“Mhm,” nods Eddie.

“You promised you were gonna meet up with us,” Richie says. “You told me this morning. Made me look like a damn fool in front of the others.”

Eddie scoffs. “You are a fool.”

Rich gasps, affronted. “How dare you! I’ll have you know this here is the smartest, most charming fool you could ever meet.”

“Uh-huh sure,” Eddie says. He moves to sit on the floor, pulling Richie down with him. “I was only gonna clean for a little bit. Just until the worst of it was gone. But-” he tugs his lower lip gently between his teeth. What if Richie thinks he’s weird? What if he thinks he’s lame? What if he doesn’t understand? Whatifwhatifwhatifwhatif. “-But the worst was all of it. I just - I just needed it to be gone. I couldn’t look at it anymore.”

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Richie gently wipes the pad of his thumb across his cheekbone.

“I know what you mean,” Richie whispers. “I took the longest shower of my life after that first time. Scrubbed until I was raw red.”

Eddie shudders. “That’s awful, Richie. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Richie whispers, though the strain in his voice tells otherwise.

Eddie wants to insist that it’s not. He wants to beg Richie to tell him what’s wrong. He wants to pull him close and kiss him until nothing hurts anymore.

But he doesn’t do any of these things. If Richie wants to talk, he will.

Instead Eddie gently reaches out to lace their fingers together, fitting his head in the crook of Richie’s neck.

“Besides,” grins Richie. “I got to spend the last few weeks curled up in bed with this cute face.”

Eddie swats his hand away as Richie reaches up to pinch his cheek.

“Stop,” he groans. “God, you’re the worst.”

Richie lets out a boisterous laugh and wraps his arms around Eddie’s shoulders. He tugs him closer until he’s flush against his chest, Eddie basically on his lap, and presses a kiss to the smaller boy’s temple.

“You love me,” Richie says.

“Absolutely not,” Eddie says, though he makes no effort to get away.

Richie lets out a loud mock-gasp. “Eds, how could you say that? After I’ve just confessed my undying love for you-”

“Actually I think I confessed to you.”

“Details, details,” Richie says flippantly.

Eddie shakes his head, glad he’s facing away from Richie so the other boy can’t see the smile forming on his lips.

“I do love you,” Richie says, his voice softer now. “You know that, right?”

Eddie nods, but he feels as if the wind’s been knocked out of him. “I know.” He threads his fingers through Richie’s once more, bringing their intertwined hands up to brush against his lips. “Are you gonna stay here tonight?”

“Mhm,” Richie says, burying his nose in Eddie’s hair. “Was planning on it.”

“Good,” Eddie grins.

“Eds, I love you, but this floor hurts my ass.”

Eddie tumbles off of him and a moment later he’s being pulled to his feet. Richie gently tugs him towards the bed, but Eddie goes stiff at the sight.

“No.”

“Eds-”

“No, Rich,” Eddie says. He sees Richie flinch and it takes him a moment to realize it’s due to his own fingers tightening around Richie’s hand. He quickly loosens his hold, but it doesn’t do much to relax the rest of him. “No. I can’t - I don’t want to - I can still - I don’t-”

Eddie’s well aware that even he doesn’t know what he’s saying. Luckily, Richie seems to understand. He cradles Eddie’s face between his palms, peppering him in tiny kisses until his breathing evens.

“I know, Eds,” he murmurs. “It sucks. It’s always gonna suck. But he’s not here now, and you can’t sleep on the floor forever.”

“I could-”

“It would suck.”

“Well, yeah, but so would-”

“I’ll be there,” Richie says. And when Eddie looks into his eyes he sees the all too familiar terror. “I’ll stay with you all night. We’ll help each other, yeah?”

Slowly, Eddie nods. “Yeah.”

“Alright.”

Richie guides him into the bed, hands feather-light on his shoulders. For a moment all Eddie can think about is dirty hands around his neck and wandering eyes following his every move. It makes him feel filthy. So filthy that he nearly leaps out of bed and rushes down the hall to the shower.

But then Richie’s there.

Richie’s there and he’s pulling him as close as he possibly can. Eddie can hear his heartbeat in his ear and he knows Richie’s just as scared as he is. So he reaches out and slings an arm over Richie’s side, rubbing his open palm over his back.

“What is this?” he asks. He hadn’t meant for the words to come out, he wasn’t even aware he was thinking about them. But they’re out now, and there’s no way to put them back in. That seems to be happening a lot lately.

“I dunno,” Richie says. Not the most comforting answer. “Whatever you want it to be, I guess.”

Eddie knows what he wants it to be.

“I like this,” he says softly. “I like you. I’ve always liked you.”

“You’re such a sap.”

“Shut up.”

Richie chuckles. “You can’t put the cat back in the bag, Spaghetti. I should have known you were a sap for little old me. You always-”

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

Fuck.

“Oh,” Richie breathes out quietly.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

“Yeah,” Richie says. “Yeah, of course.”

Eddie lets out a breath he hadn’t even known he was holding. “Fuck you, that was the worst wait of my life.”

“It was like five seconds!”

“It was the worst.” Eddie gently presses his lips against Richie’s collarbone. “But definitely worth it. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They fall asleep like that, cocooned in each other’s arms. And for the first time in a long time, when they wake up, the first thing they do is smile.

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #IT #reddie fanfic #reddie fanfiction #bill denbrough #stanley uris #mike hanlon #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #stan uris #bev marsh #patrick hockstetter #I'm really bad at writing Patrick sorry #also sorry this is super angsty #ChrisWrites

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losersclubbitches · 4 years

Text

First Date Blues

Here’s my Secret Santa for @bitchinrichie. Hope you like it!

“You remember how we met?” The question was completely out of the blue. They were curled together in Richie’s bunk, having just finished a study session when the dark haired man spoke into the curls of his boyfriend’s hair. Stan hummed gently, hand curled around his boyfriend’s wrist, which was resting across his side and on his chest.

“Of course. It was first grade. You were sick,” he replied.

“Good,” Richie spoke, planting a kiss to Stan’s hair. “I love you.”

“Love you, too, Rich.” Stan didn’t ask why Richie had asked about their past, because he knew that the other was going to explain eventually.

Apparently, eventually was the next day, as the moment Stan woke up, Richie had breakfast ready for him and was bouncing up and down as he held it.

“Stan! Stan! Stan! Are you awake?” Richie effused.

“I am now, Rich,” Stan groaned, rubbing his eyes. “Thanks for breakfast.” Richie set the tray down on his lap and Stan started eating the meal, relishing in the taste on his tongue. When he’d finished, Stan showered and dressed, excited to see what “big surprise” Richie had planned for him today. They packed into the car and Richie drove off, turning on the radio to the cassette tape he’d made for their five year friendiversary. It was a combination of songs that Richie liked, songs that Stan liked, and songs they both could agree on, which wasn’t as rare as one might think. They bopped along with the music until Richie stopped the car, carefully parking. Stan didn’t realize that he had zoned out while they were driving and now he didn’t know where they were. He looked around, trying to orient himself when hands closed around his head, covering his eyes.

“Just trust me, Stan. I planned this out perfectly,” Richie soothed. They started walking, slowly and smoothly, completely in sync as they usually were. They’d been friends for years and knew all of the other’s mannerisms better than anyone else did.

“Rich, seriously, where are we going?” Stan asked, laughing as Richie shushed him.

“Okay, and open them!” Richie exclaimed, removing his hands from Stan’s eyes. Stan blinked, adjusting to the light, and looked around.

“Is this why you asked if I remembered how we met?” Stan inquired, looking around. Richie nodded. They were standing at the edge of their elementary school playground. Everything was exactly as it had been when they’d been here. There was the jungle gym, the see-saw, the swing set and the bench under the plastic tree where kids went for shade or if they were tagged out. They sat at the bench, their knees practically to their chests, and Richie pulled out a picnic basket for them. There were sandwiches and cans of sparkling juice and grapes that Richie fed to Stan in that “doting boyfriend” way. After a half hour of them eating and laughing, someone walked by.

“Fucking fags!” they yelled. Richie turned around and flipped the kid off.

"”Go suck a dick, asshole!” he yelled back. When he turned back around, he saw tears in Stan's eyes, pooling at the brim of them and threatening to spill over. “Oh, baby. I’m so sorry that happened. Are you alright?” Richie soothed, wrapping an arm around Stan’s shoulder and pulling the other to his chest. Stan cried into his boyfriend’s shirt, soaking the material. Richie didn’t say anything, just rubbed Stan’s back, whispering sweet nothings into his hair as he rested his chin in the curls. When Stan’s breathing was mostly even, he pulled back and looked at Richie, who looked surprisingly calm given what just happened.

“Are you okay?” Stan asked. He knew that Richie liked to pretend he was okay, even when he wasn’t.

“Yeah. I’m used to it by now. I mean, I practically wear my identity on my sleeve,” Richie replied with a chuckle. It was true, Richie had sewn bisexual flag patches to every piece of clothing he owned after he’d come out.

“You get called that a lot?” Stan inquired. It was the one thing he didn’t know about his best friend, his boyfriend.

“Yeah. I mean, I hear it every day. It’s not really something out of the ordinary for this town,” Richie confessed, not meeting Stan’s eyes.

“Rich. Why didn’t you tell me?”Stan craned his neck to look into Richie’s eyes, but the other just looked away again.

“Because I didn’t want you to worry. Because it’s not a big deal. Because People in Derry just aren’t ready for change and they need to get over it,” Richie joked, then his voice got serious. “Because I didn’t want to seem needy or clingy for hiding behind my friends when some random idiot calls me an outdated name.”

“Richie, that’s not needy or clingy,” Stan refuted, hooking one finger under his boyfriend’s chin to make the man look at him. “I wouldn’t have minded if I had to beat the shit out of a bully or two to defend your honor and respectability. I’m pretty sure the others wouldn’t mind either. Because, you’re a loser, but you’re our Loser.”

“That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.” Richie sniffled. “Thanks, Stan.”

“Anytime, Rich. I love you.” Stan placed a gentle kiss to Richie’s lips and Richie kissed back, cupping Stan’s cheek. After a minute they pulled away.

“I love you, too, Stan Uris.”

#secret santa #stozier #stanley uris #richie tozier #first date #playground #IT movie #it #fanfic #original work

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kpbk · 5 years

Text

clumsy sex? more like vibe check

It was Halloween night and Eddie was sprawled over the bed he shared with Richie, watching 76s Carrie. Bill was out with Beverly and Stanley and wouldn’t be home until the next day and Richie... well, Eddie wasn’t sure where he was, but his absence was painfully obvious since Kaspbrak was feeling needy and, well, horny. Not because of Carrie, no, dear fuck, no. He just was and perhaps the notion of having the flat to themselves for the night was so fucking appealing, not having to worry about being loud was such a brilliant concept that it made him crave even more.

But that, obviously crumbled upon the fact he was still alone in bed watching a movie he had already seen way too many times.

Exam season was over and there was still time to go before he had to worry about college again. Los Angeles was as crowded as always and he was glad he no longer had to live in a dorm. Eddie quite liked the apartment the three of them shared, it was small but comfortable and it honestly looked like them. It had three rooms (it had started out as one room to each of them but convenience happened and now they had a spare) and one bathroom - that was the single problem with the place.

The AC was on and it wasn’t even warm outside, Eddie just felt he was about to combust himself. He was wearing nothing but black boxers and a purple tee, his hair was all over the place and John Travolta was being a fucking asshole in the television. He looked over to his phone, took it in his hands and unlocked it, opening up instagram and rolling through the feed. Everyone he knew was out for Halloween and he liked each and every photo. Eddie was growing impatient, where the fuck was Richie?

where are you??

He hit send and threw the phone over the bed. Where the fuck was Richie and his annoyingly gorgeous face? His big clumsy but determined hands, his crooked smile and those big eyes Eddie loved so much. Honestly, where the fuck was Richie and his pretty ass? He sighed and closed his eyes.

Eddie reached for his phone again.

get your ass to bed ffs.

He rolled his eyes.

i want to make you feel good.

Punctuation was his brand and no matter how horny he was, punctuation would be there. But, well, the bedroom door was open and he decided on leaving his phone alone, eyes going over to Carrie White and Sue Snell. Richie would eventually be home.

#*the title the content istg i lost it

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clown-bait · 5 years

Text

Monster Family CH8 (Monster Roommate AU)

ONLY 7 MORE DAYS GUYS!!!! IM SO EXCITED! Until then tho, pregnant tentacle sex anyone?

Ch8

Skinny Dipping

"Why do you hate the librarian?" The question caught Pennywise off guard and he nearly swallowed half the lake as he flailed out of his floating position. "Like I know parts of his story but I want your side too." It took the eldritch a moment to think carefully as Leech tried to justify her curiosity. He had never told anyone about what happened then. Finally, he stood out of the water porcelain flesh backlit by the pale moon and faux fireflies. Leech wouldn't forget the ferocity in his features as he relived the memory. The creature shook himself violently like a dog does to relieve tension. His hair while still loose dried instantly and his costume covered his lean pale skin. The massive clown sat down next to his mate. "You will not like what you see." He finally said. "I was not the same then, I mocked emotions, I was cruel. Like a child plucking the wings off a butterfly." His voice warbled through the air as the dancing yellow lights dimmed and faded away. A small hand took his glove and long black nails ran over the fabric. "You're still evil now…. but that’s what I signed up for isn't it?" His mate said softly.

His glove left her and instead pulled her into his lap. "I would have gobbled you up without a second thought darling." He purred his hand sliding over their brood. Leech let out an amused huff and settled into his warm silk. "I don't believe that you're a complete hopeless romantic." She joked, earning her a playful growl and a nip to her ear. "Close your eyes and see." Pennywise whispered into her skull kissing the cold skin softly. When she obeyed it was as if her imagination had been hijacked, suddenly the warm summer night was a stormy day and she stood in the storm drain on the corner of Witcham and Jackson street. "27 years ago, I was a very different clown." A voice echoed in her head. "It started with a boy. My biggest mistake." A little boy in a raincoat ran to the entrance of the drain and squatted down. Leech knew what came next.

She had seen Penny hunt before. It was brutal but then again she was no better sometimes. This one felt painful to witness. "Like a child plucking the wings off a butterfly." her lover's words echoed in her head. She felt his starvation, his want to destroy something innocent. She could feel Pennywise's every desire in the moment and the satisfaction of when he got it. The memories thumbed forward like the turning of pages a girl named Betty torn in half through teeth and claws that weren't her own. A young Mike Hanlon trembled in the doorway of the old butcher shop. The Jewish boy Stanley and his flute woman, the new kid Ben and the ghosts of Derry's past. Eddie, Beverly, Richie, and finally the brother Bill who Leech could feel the clown’s particular malice towards. He craved them all and patiently marinated his meat before slaughter. They were to be his grand finale. His memories of that summer overwhelmed her. The shock of being discovered, the first experience of pain, his fear of his immortality being questioned. Then that final fight deep in his lair. She felt his fear and all the emotions that he had so eagerly mocked overcoming him. She saw and felt everything he felt. Feeling his terror of mortality and death brought tears to her eyes. Then the powerful creature had been bested and had decided in present-day, his mate had seen enough. Time slowed for the vampire and she was herself once more staring at the blue-eyed creature in front of her.

"Oh my god…..were the same…." she said quietly. "Our biggest fears…" cold hands touched his face and her thumbs ran over his puffy cheeks. "We’re the same Pen." She smiled pulling the eldritch to her lips. He despised the Losers for what they did to him but he would thank them for one thing, the chance to experience emotions like this.

"Now play the part of you getting your ass beat by pre-teens again" his mate giggled and the clown pulled back and snarled.

"That is not funny."

"It's a little bit funny."

Pennywise frowned for a moment then grinned wickedly. his arms shot out at his mate and trapped her in a vice-like grip which began to pull her to the water as she squealed insults and curses at him.

"PEN NO! FUCK YOU THIS IS A NEW DRESS!" She shrieked and kicked but her clown was quick and she ended up back in the lake anyway.

She rose from the water pissed and soaked to the bone her new dress hung heavy over her body revealing curves and swells in her figure. A pleased rumble left the eldritch’s throat. "Mock me again and I’ll rip that pretty little garment clear off." He snarled and pulled her forward in the water tendrils slithered up her legs from the depths. "Or maybe that’s what you want me to do." He growled as a long tentacle slipped up her thigh. "You’ll owe me a new one." The vampire hissed and squirmed half-heartedly. "I'd get you a thousand if it meant I could see this pretty sight." He purred and cupped the curve of her ass in his massive hands. "My pretty mate so wet and feisty." His hand swatted her rear with a crack Leech's claws dug into the wet silk of the clown’s costume. His hands hiked her wet dress over the swell of her backside inky black tentacles replaced his hands squeezing the soft flesh and the clown explored her other curves in the waist-deep water.

"You’re growing so fast sweet thing" he murmured his voice almost shaking with excitement as his hands and tendrils touched her belly. "I’ve made you swell so much. Will miss seeing you like this….might have to do it again next cycle."

"Absolutely not!"

"Hmm then I will carry them."

"You’re kidding! You? Pregnant? Pen you’re already needy as it is!" Leech squirmed a bit but a large python like tendril curled around her chest. She snapped her razor fangs at him before he could reach her neck letting out a low chitter as he caught her jaw and quickly drug her deeper into the water.

"Little hunter is feisty today."

"You’re supposed to be making it up to me asshole." She squirmed and hissed.

"And still so jealous! As if I'd let anyone else know me as you do. They are unworthy."

"Then give me what you owe me." Leech snarled back and he held her cool soft cheek against his razor fangs.

"Say please." The clown hissed as his teeth retraced in anticipation barely able to put them away before his mate's lips were frantically pressing against his own.

They crashed together in a frenzy of claws and tendrils pennywise dragged her under the surface stealing her breath and rubbing a particularly thick and long tentacle between her legs as he kissed her. They broke the surface and leech gasped for air one tentacle holding the back of her head as her clown bit and sucked her neck. A chorus of "pleases" spilled from her lips as her new dress was gently pulled off her till they were skin to skin his tendrils pulling open her legs and seating her around his waist.

"I will no longer wait. You have teased me enough today made my knees shake with want. Little thing makes me feel in ways others cannot."

"You could just say you love me." Leech smirked and a tendril squeezed her neck as something hard pressed into her pussy.

"I love you." He growled through fangs as his hips pressed up sinking her further down onto him.

Leech let out a whimper as he stretched her "Fuuuck th-that's big- shit!"

Pennywise groaned and trailed off into a chuckle. "Too much?" He sneered as his hips bucked slowly. She gasped at the stretch and bit under her eldritch's jaw. "No….never….more I want more." Leech panted and traced her own claws down his neck and into the water sliding. They over his lower back and she began to press her nails into him as if to spur him to push deeper. It seemed to deliver the intended message and water splashed as he thrust in harder, beginning a rhythm.

"Who's needy now." He growled and pulled her legs open wider. More tendrils joined them one protectively around her swollen belly and one slithered up between her breasts as others pushed them together so the appendage could slide between them. Leech gave her mate a look and he made a laugh like gurgle as he leaned in to suck on her neck "So soft, so squishy." He growled as his tentacles kneaded the cool soft flesh. Leech could feel his fangs at her neck as he thrusted below the surface, each pant sending warm breath over her cold wet skin. His tongue felt extra hot as it ran over her flesh and when she shuddered his tendrils squeezed tighter in excitement. Leech threw her head back and let him pound into her listening to the water slosh back and forth in waves around them. Her clown groaned as her claws pulled his damp hair increasing his pace turning the gentle waves into violent splashes. "Ngh...mmm tongue….out.. now!" he could barely speak his command and growled in pleasure when he felt the cool wet muscle slide up and down the tendril fucking his mate's gravid breasts. "Good girl.."he shuddered and gripped her backside harshly "good goooood girl." Leech smiled as she licked him watching her primordial god come utterly undone for her as she gently sucked the tip of his tentacle. A heartbeat later, the clown smirked to himself and watched as her expression changed when a small thin tendril licked a stripe in the vampire's back door. Leech gasped and nearly went stiff in his arms still being bounced on his cock by tentacles. "Pen...mm.. what are you doing?" She gasped.

"Making it up to you." He panted out and swirled the tip around her tight hole like a tongue. "Gonna make you float Peachy. Give you want you want. Float with me, love. Float."

His small tentacle eased in and both moaned in pleasure Leech going almost limp in his grasp as little ball like bumps formed in the tendril. Her senses were completely shot, all she could hear were her mate's obscene growling and her own high pitched moans. The tendril around her stomach slithered and caressed their brood as if to hold them safe from what he was doing to their mother. Leech twitched from the impending knot forming inside her, knowing she wouldn't be able to hold this orgasm back. As if sensing it himself Pennywise's tendril between her breasts slithered around her throat and brought her close to him and she could feel his fangs on the shell of her ear. "Float….float with me." He hissed. Hearing the desperation in his voice sent her over the edge and Leech nearly screamed her orgasm. "Yes..yesssss…." the eldritch groaned as her body squeezed and shuddered joining her with his own release in both her holes and face.

They bobbed on the surface of the lake panting wildly with exhaustion. Eventually, the tentacles receded and Leech dunked her face underwater to clean herself coming back up to hold her monster. Pennywise affectionately petted his mate's head against him as she used him as a life ring, his own release exhausted him more than he anticipated. He stopped when he spotted a very tall very upset looking figure on the bank of the river.

"Hey you alright?" Leech mumbled weakly, softly kissing his neck. "Pen?"

"Vorhees." He snarled. Leech released her mate and groaned.

"Shit! My phone's on the shore. We can't call the exterminator."

"I am more than capable of defending you dear. We do not need to get Kruger. " The clown snarled.

"You'll be fighting him all night I want to go to dinner."

"It will take me five minutes Peachy."

"Yeah, and you'll end up getting stabbed then I'm taking care of you for the rest of the night. I know how this goes Pen, this happens every time we fuck outside. Also, why isn't he yelling?"

The clown grunted and shut his eyes "The riot you started on Halloween. Throat injury."

"And lemme guess he has a grudge. Fanfuckingtastic." Leech groaned as the undead giant raised his machete pointing to the spot his vocal chords had been maimed. "Guess we have no choice but to kick his butt."

"You won't be doing anything."

"Yes I will, there's two of us and one of him."

"You are pregnant."

"Just because you knocked me up doesn't mean I can't still punch people!"

"He has a weapon Peachy!"

"And I have five on each hand!"

Jason had shuffled to a rock to sit down as he waited for the pair to stop arguing. He pulled out a white board and began to write hoping to get things moving. The giant threw a stone at Pennywise then pointed to what he wrote. Can I just kill you so I can go home?

"Why don't you just leave us alone instead!" Leech called out from the middle of the lake.

You guys were clearly breaking the rules on premarital sex in the woods sorry! Jason wrote back.

"Enough of this." Pennywise growled and sunk into the water moving through it like a crocodile as he glared at the giant.

"Can you at least hand me a towel first." Leech complained as her mate dragged her to the shore.

"You! I am fed up with being disturbed. Peachy say I do so we may be left in peace."

"The fuck does that mean?"

"Say it."

"Hand me a fucking towel first and tell me what the fuck is going on."

An annoyed and impatient rumble escaped the clown's lips as he tossed Leech's towel to her. "And what do we say?"

"I-I do? Pen what-"

"Excellent I declare us married now leave." The eldritch pointed at the giant then to the woods.

"What the fuck?!" Leech hissed pulling her towel around herself. Her clown arched an eyebrow then grunted in realization quickly leaning down to peck his mate on the lips before grinning smugly. "Leave." He sneered and lazily rested an arm over his apparently new bride. Jason looked just as confused as the nosferatu.

"I married us you may no longer disturb me or my mate."

"The fuck does that mean Pen?" Leech snarled at him holding her towel up as best she could

"I own the town" he shrugged.

"Oh my God. So this was…"

"Official yes."

The vampire's breath caught in her throat. Did she just get married? In a towel? To Pennywise? Air she needed air. No, wait she needed to sit. Her stress was too high the babies were already exhausting her.

"Can you both just excuse me for just a second." The vampire walked to the edge of the water and promptly passed out face-first onto a large stone. Her body twitched and vomited ichor before going completely still.

Pennywise stared at her for a moment then back to where Jason was standing. Then back to his still unconscious wife. This did not go as planned. Not at all.

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