anonymous asked:

❤️ “confess” or a confession for the word prompt

Eddie slowly slipped in the door, locking it behind him and letting out a breath when he saw that Richie was fast asleep in his own bed. He watched as his best friend, and roommates, chest rose and fall steadily, showing Eddie that he was certainly fast asleep. He took a seat on the edge of his bed and watched him for a few moments, wishing more than anything for him to be able to climb in next to him and cuddle up.

But they were friends, and friends didn’t cuddle each other close in the middle of the night. No matter how much Eddie wanted to.

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ok but-

eddie is told that he doesn’t actually have asthma but doesn’t tell anyone so he can always have an excuse.

his gym teacher giving him a hard time? sorry it’s the asthma

late to class? sorry dude i couldn’t run it’s the asthma

richie and bev smell gross? don’t smoke near me i have asthma

then one day he’s smoking weed with the losers and some other people at a party and one of them go, “wait eddie don’t you have asthma??” and he just leans back l, takes a hit, and says “yeah. it ain’t easy bein weezey bro”

anonymous asked:

🌚 birthday

(smut under the cut)

It had been a long day for everyone. It was Eddie’s 21st birthday and all the losers had put together a birthday party for him which lasted the whole day. As the last of the losers to turn the legal drinking age, it was deemed a very important event and whilst Eddie would have prefered to stay at home, in bed with Richie whilst they watched Netflix and had multiple round of birthday sex, it was nice for him to see his friends.

Since they had been out all day, the end of the evening arrived just after 11pm, with Stan yawning, eyes dropping. It triggered the rest of the group to realise just how exhausted they were after the day and they all said their goodbyes, leaving Richie and Eddie to get a cab back to their shared apartment.

It was in the cab home that Eddie realised his birthday was almost over, and he had yet to receive any form of birthday sex from his boyfriend. He glanced at the clock, noting the time of 11:05pm and he sighed. Richie was almost snoring next to him and Eddie himself wasn’t exactly lively, but it was his 21st birthday! He wanted some birthday sex, god dammit!

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People who write IT fics really gotta stop having any member of the losers club call Eddie “Eddie bear” or Beverly “bevvie” those ‘nicknames’ are directly related to their abuse. I’ve usually only seen richie doing it on either side but like.. it’s still the same. A trigger is a trigger no matter who is doing/saying it.

peachywise  asked:

richie is one of those people that when in a relationship, he's no longer singular, it's always 'us, ours, we'. he stands up in class and says, 'we have to use the bathroom' as he drags eddie away by the hand

lucy this is valid af like richie, the poor bi disaster, is no longer alone bc he got his precious boyfriend to help him thru everything even if it’s just waiting outside the bathroom

more reddie written in five minutes ft. anxious richie

eddie examined richie carefully, looking to his right to watch the taller, lankier boy tapping his right foot unnaturally fast. his fingers were drumming against the table, his eyebrows furrowed, occasionally biting his nails in a nervous habit. eddie had tried to talk to him earlier, but richie kept stumbling over his words and sighing whenever he could barely form a sentence. richie had terrible anxiety, and his social anxiety was another story in itself; sometimes, he had very bad days, yes. but today was the worst eddie had ever seen him, and it was worrying him to a point of no end. it was all he could think about. seeing rich this quiet made him sick to his stomach.

“richie?” eddie asked, reaching across the space between their desks to grab the other boy’s arm, completely ignoring the teacher. he continued, “are you okay?”

richie clutched at the arms of his jean jacket, huffing and seething with something like pain. eddie recalled when richie had described to him what his anxiety was like- as if his brain wouldn’t take a hint and shut up, as if everything faded to black and all he could hear was the sound of his rapid heartbeat against his chest. he’d said that there was this inescapable tightness in his chest that spread up through his neck to the back of his eyes, and he’d said the sensation made him want to cry.

“i’m just- need,” richie started, clearly troubled, beginning to grip at his tousled, wild, curly black hair. “can’t breathe.”

“class is going to end in a couple minutes,” eddie attempted to soothe. “nod if you need to get out now, shake your head if you can stay a few minutes.”

richie nodded his head frantically, the rising and falling of his chest picking up considerably, the prickling behind his eyes growing quickly. all he could do was try to maintain his breathing and try not to let any tears fall.

“please,” richie begged through a breathless voice, gasping suddenly as if frightened and looking up at the ceiling, then continuing to bite his nails to stubs. eddie tried not to think about how disgusting it was that he was biting his nails.

eddie grabbed the boy’s hand, richie standing up and not making a single noise.

“mr. kaspbrak, may i ask what you’re doing?” the boy’s’ english teacher asked in a snarky tone, hand on her hip (which annoyed eddie to no end.)

“i’m taking richie to the nurse,” eddie responded as politely as he could, trying to stay calm while his best friend was imploding beside him.

“there’s five minutes left of the period. i’m sure it can wait,” she said, in a tone of almost disbelief. at this, richie tugged at his sleeve, and eddie hushed him with lenience.

“no, mrs. bouchard, it can’t,” eddie retorted impatiently, desperately wanting to grab richie and run from the classroom.

“well, as long as richard isn’t bleeding or dying- which, he isn’t, then yes. it can.” richie cringed at the use of ‘richard,’ the name only his mom called him. eddie could physically see the other’s panic increasing by the second.

“fuck you,” eddie sighed in tired annoyance, grabbing richie’s sleeve and marching to the front of the classroom. the two teenagers pushed past the teacher and out the door, eddie slamming it behind him right in the teacher’s face.

after speed walking through the hallway a bit, eddie led richie to the janitor’s closet- which was wide open, for some reason- pushing him in and locking the door behind him.

eddie studied the taller carefully, noticing the way his hands were fisted into the material of his sweatshirt, arms crossed against his chest. he saw the way his hair had frizzed up from his hands gripping at it helplessly. richie couldn’t even look him square in the eyes, and that was enough to make eddie want to cry- because his friend looked so far away. normally, richie was so lively, up in your face like a high quality 3D movie- and here he was, still and practically lifeless, lost in his own head.

“rich, can i touch you?” eddie asked, and richie nodded his head yes, his eyes finally meeting eddie’s, his breathing still rapid and uneven.

the shorter boy stepped closer, curling his arms around richie’s neck and hugging him close, rocking him back and forth, dropping his face into the taller’s shoulder.

“you’re gonna be okay,” eddie whispered. “i promise. there’s nobody else here, it’s just you and me, and i’m not gonna let you go until you can talk again. you won’t feel like this forever; i’m right here, and i’ll be right here until you feel better. don’t be scared, just breathe with me. in for 4, hold for 6, out for 7, okay?”

eddie nuzzled deeper into richie’s neck, and for the next few minutes, eddie counted- 4, 6, 7, and richie followed. he struggled at first, and he couldn’t breathe in for more than a second without breaking out into a fit. but finally, richie could feel his feet on the ground, eddie’s curly, soft hair against his neck, and the other’s arms around the top of his back.

richie wrapped his hands around eddie’s waist, rocking back and forth with the innocent boy, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

richie lifted his hands under eddie’s white t-short, brushing his fingers against the pillowy skin below his ribs, massaging his upper stomach, and causing a pleasant, warm buzzing sensation to crawl up eddie’s spine. there was nothing sexual about it, which made it so much more wonderful; it was so innocent, the touching only to study the curve of eddie’s skin, to feel the rising and falling of his chest across his torso.

eddie had always had an affinity for richie’s hands- he had beautiful, long, dainty piano fingers, milky white skin, and damaged nails. they had a certain fragility and elegance to them- a total contrast to richie’s personality. it made him smile. and the feel of those hands against his hips was enough to make him want to fall asleep. he was practically melting into a puddle in richie’s arms, and he was loving every second, sighing in content.

“thank you, eddie,” richie whispered softly- softer than he’d ever talked before in his life- before he kissed eddie on the forehead. “thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“don’t thank me,” eddie responded, dropping his head back onto richie’s shoulder, sighing when richie moved his hands to his own back below his shirt, big and warm and comfortable. “i would do anything for you.”

richie smiled gently, his dark brown eyes lightening and giving way to a black, evening sky.

then, so quietly, almost so that eddie didn’t hear, richie whispered, “i love you.”

and eddie laughed, kissed his neck and said,

“you know i love you, too.”


(IF YOU LIKED THIS GO FOLLOW MY MAIN TUMBLR @biconic-loser )

The Loser’s Go Rollerskating.

Bev: Majestic as hell, can skate backwards. A+

Ben: Can’t do tricks but knows how to move without falling.

Mike: Holds Stan’s hand the whole time because he’s in love.

Stan: Very scared and refusing to let go of Mike.

Bill: Clinging to the wall.

Eddie: Moves with ease, speedy gonzales if you will. 

Richie: Falls on his ass every five seconds and ends up breaking his wrist by the end of it. 

I met jack & jackson yesterday. When I was meeting Jackson my mom asked him how old he was, so he responded “I’m nine, but my parents say I’m mature for my age” and gave this big, overdramatic wink. So jack goes “you’re not mature! He’s lying!” And my mom captured the exact moment on camera. Jackson’s reply? “Says the kid who jokes about drugs all the time.”

richie’s wedding

richie: i do

stan & beverly: aww

richie: or do i?

stan & beverly: ooo