Just a little reddie fic. It’s really cute I swear. please read >.>
warnings: um nothing really just kissing
Richie uses his pointer finger to push his newly bought glasses back up his nose. He speed walks out of his classroom, racing to the door. He dodges Henry and his goons, choosing to focus on his escape from the school and to his friends. He shuffles down the stairs, and he catches a quick sight on Bill. He scrunches his face when he sees a stranger talking to Bill, and he looks the boy over. He was wearing a pink shirt with short brown shorts. His jaw drops without his permission at the abominable sight of a black garment wrapped around the smaller boy’s waist. The words fall through his lips before he can think it over.
“A fanny pack? Who wears a fucking fanny pack?”
Challenging chocolate brown eyes meet his gaze, and Richie raises an eyebrow. “It’s perfect for holding condoms. Tell your sister I got the right size this time.”
Richie gawks at the shorter boy in front of him, who has a smirk plastered on his lips. His eyes dig into Richie, not at all intimated by someone he doesn’t know, or the attitude of said person he doesn’t know. Richie is at a loss of words, left to stare right back at the boy. It feels like he’s been struck. He’s always been known as ‘trashmouth’ due to the fact that he doesn’t necessarily hold back to what he has to say. He’s the first to call someone out. He’s filled to the rim on his glasses with jokes and smartass comments. ‘It’s a gift’ he’s used to telling his friends, since nine out of ten things he gets in response includes them saying ‘shut up’. He’s known for it, and he’s always been proud of his role within the group.
So, the fact that he not only didn’t get something that wasn’t ‘shut up’ or silence, but he actually got a pretty impressive comeback. It has something spiraling in his stomach, heat rising in his cheeks to cause them to gain a pink hue. His body feels numb all over, and his mouth is impossibly dry.
“Th-This is my fri-friend, Rich-“
“Richie,” the taller boy introduces, interrupting Bill. He brings his hand out to make it formal. “Please, call me Richie.”
The other boy flinches at the limb splayed in front of him, and Richie feels slightly hurt and self-conscious. What was wrong with his hand? He washed his hands after lunch. Did he get the atmosphere wrong? Was this kid uptight and think he’s all that?
He watches anxiously as the boy suddenly reaches into his fanny pack and pulls a blue and red pill. He swallows it with the help of a water bottle that he hadn’t noticed before. He chooses to ignore that for now.
He starts to pull his arm back to his side, depressed at the idea that the one person he was actually interested in getting to know was actually first class trash.
But then, his hand is grabbed with a slightly smaller, yet firm hand. “Eddie. You can call me Eddie.”
A smile breaks out on Richie’s face, and he doesn’t remember even trying to smile. “Alright, Eds. Nice to meet you. Say, what’s with the pill popping? May pull a Michael Jackson.”
“I have to take this medication for when I see such ugly fuckers.”
And it’s on.
A sharp, familiar cry bursts in the broken down shack. Layers of pure terror and fear are laced in the painful shout, and it causes Richie’s chest to tighten extremely.
“Eddie!” Richie shouts in response. He’s set in autopilot, fumbling through the house’s maze to get to his friend. He hears echoing steps behind him, signaling him that Bill was right behind him. Richie pays him no mind, legs set on bringing him to wherever Eddie was.
He dashes into the room, and he gasps at the horrific sight of the infamous clown. His gloved white hand is on Eddie’s face, and Richie forms fists with his hands.
“Eddie!” Richie calls out. Pennywise talking to Bill is background noise, and a shiver rolls down his spine when Eddie looks at him through the clown’s fingers. Fear drenches the shorter boy’s face, and it angers Richie not having the ability to get to him. He wants nothing more than to comfort him. The fact that Eddie could very well bring himself into an asthma attack has him thinking about racing over to him, running towards the danger for him.
He jumps and screams when Pennywise comes running at them, moving in nonhuman ways. He clutches onto Bill, ready to face his fate. He screams in fear with Bill as Pennywise gets within reach.
Richie jumps with a shout when suddenly a pole is sticking in the clown’s white head. He grimaces at the gruesome sight of inhumanly sharp, yellow teeth and scary yellow and red eyes now pointing in different directions. It’s obvious that the impale wasn’t life-taking, since he was still standing menacingly and laughing at them.
Richie takes one more look at the clown before racing around the creature. He is down on his knees with one hand on Eddie’s broken arm with the other caressing the wounded boy’s face. “Fuck, Eddie, told you you have the coordination of a baby deer.”
“The leper pushed me, dipshit!”
“Whatever you say, Eds,” Richie taunts back with his usual nickname for the other boy. Eddie scowls at him, but doesn’t retract from Richie’s touch. Richie only gets a moment to investigate Eddie’s broken arm, because then Eddie is screaming, and he turns around to find Pennywise stalking over to them with the pole still implanted in his head. The sight is nerve-wracking, and his hands tremble as he now uses both hands to hold Eddie’s face.
“Eds, keep your eyes on me, okay? You’re fine. It’s going to be okay, just keep your shit colored eyes focused on me-“
“We have the same damn eye color, you dumbass!”
“That’s exactly why nothing is going to happen to you. Need you to keep me in check, yeah? You’re fine, I promise. Nothing is going to happen to you,” Richie shushes the frantic boy. He runs his fingers through Eddie’s brown, fluffy hair. Every time Eddie glances at the direction behind him, Richie reminds him by lightly tapping a finger on his cheek to continue looking at him. Eddie follows his demands, looking at Richie as screams flow in the room.
Richie soothingly rubs his thumb along Eddie’s left cheek, feeling the soft skin against his own. He can’t help from counting the freckles splattered on those cheeks. Eddie is staring at him; he can feel his eyes on him. He doesn’t realize until now how close they are, breathing the same air.
There is chaos around them, but Richie keeps looking at Eddie, even when the other looks away. Finally, Richie breaks away and looks around to find Bill chasing after the clown down the hall.
Richie looks down at Eddie’s broken arm, wincing at the dislocation. They needed to get out of there. He wraps a hand around Eddie’s arm, causing a cry of pain from Eddie. “I’m going to snap it back in place!”
“Don’t you fucking touch me!”
Richie ignores Eddie’s demand, grabbing Eddie’s arm and quickly pops it back in place with a short exhale of air. Eddie’s scream takes a moment to rip through his lips, but when it does, it’s heartbreaking.
Richie helps Eddie out of the house, holding onto the shorter boy’s back and having him lean on him. Time disappears after that, and the next thing he knows, he’s watching Eddie get driven off by his psycho of a mother.
Richie huffs as he runs across the street, where the town’s pharmacy is. He counts the seconds passing in his head, wondering if Stan was done counting to forty yet. He still can’t believe the losers club still vote to play hide and seek, considering they are all either fourteen or fifteen now. It’s a fun game though, and it reminds him of all the years he’s known the others. He loves his friends, and he would do anything to continue knowing them for the rest of his life. He may spend every minute of their interaction thinking of smartass comments, but he will agree to anything they want to do. He enjoys making his friends happy.
That being said, he dashes across the street to the alleyway behind the pharmacy. He remembers the rules and boundaries. It was from Bill’s house to Eddie’s house, and the pharmacy lies between the two, and that’s where he’s going to set up camp.
He runs into the alley, speeding behind the trashcan. He blanches at the god-awful smell, but he ignores it and waits to hear footsteps.
It takes no time at all for him to hear footsteps, and he tenses up, hiding farther behind the trashcan. Gravel crunches under his shoes, and he curses under his breath. He stills completely, listening intently to the footsteps and movements of the mystery person.
He’s always been proud of his role in the losers club. He’s the talkative smartass of the group, and he owns it. He knows his friends care about him. He’s essential to the group. He would do anything for the group, and they know that.
What he’s also good at, though, is that he is excellent at acknowledging the tell-tell signs of his friends. He notes every detail of his friends. He knows what effects everyone. He knows the likes and dislikes of everyone. He knows how to comfort in a specific way for each and every one of them. He knows how every situation effects Bill’s stutter. Bill’s eyes flicker to the right when he’s nervous or scared. He knows how Stan’s tone of voice changes with each emotion he feels. There is a crinkle by Stan’s right eye when he is embarrassed. He knows how much Mike enjoys reading, even though he tries with all his might to hide his joy when they pass a comic store. He also knows how much he hates going home every night, because the nightmares keep him up. He is an expert on Beverly, since he gets to be the ears to Ben and Bill. He does, in fact, know that Beverly loves to be watchful and caring over everyone. It wasn’t so much as a ‘motherly’ thing, but more of a ‘I want to be in control for once’ thing. With all the shit with her dad…it was a no brainer that Beverly would want to take the caring role. On the other side, though, he knows when she is upset. She always breaks eye contact and bites her lip, going quiet for a while until she opens up again. She was a healer.
Eddie… Eddie was something else. Richie knows he’s the expert on him. He has learned everything about him. He has noticed each facial expression, every move, every emotion, every eye flicker, every deep inhale, every everything. He knows Eddie’s breath hitches every time he goes outside, going on instinct to grab for his inhaler. At four o’clock, Eddie routinely reaches for his fanny pack before remembering that he no longer takes medication for whatever illness he had been lied to about having. He knows Eddie still doesn’t like being around ‘dirty’ things, but who can blame him? Especially when he’s been trained ever since he can swallow pills to think about the diseases any object can hold. In the back of his head, Eddie still believes he is sick and needs to be careful, even though the reality is that he is not sick with anything.
That doesn’t keep Richie from holding an extra inhaler in his back pocket. It angers Richie to think about poor Eddie believing every time he freaks out over something, it was his asthma picking up. It wasn’t asthma. It was only normal anxiety, only amplified.
So, that’s why he is absolute certain that the footsteps approaching belonged to Eddie.
The hesitation in the walk was what gave it away. The rapid breathing only backed it up.
He listens as Eddie walks closer, and he grabs the shorter boy fast as lightning, pulling the now panicking boy into the alley. He covers Eddie’s mouth with his hand, shushing him as he looks around the corner to check for Stan. Once he sees that Stan wasn’t coming, he releases Eddie, who immediately pushes him away.
“What the hell was that for!”
“You were going to give us away, dipshit!” Richie argues back with a ‘duh’ expression written on his face.
Eddie rolls his eyes. “Trust me, I wasn’t going to give away your weak ass hiding spot. You do know that alleyways are usually the first places people check?”
“Yes, but you know the thing about Stan?” Richie starts off. He pulls Eddie over to the trashcan, and Eddie lets him. “He checks the alleyways, but he doesn’t actually walk in them.” “Next week I’m watching America’s Most Wanted for you,” Eddie replies with a shake of his head. His lips screw up at the sight of the trashcan.
“Awe, you’re going to watch TV for little ole’ me? You know how to make a girl blush, Eds,” Richie teases with a pinch to Eddie’s cheeks.
Eddie swats at his intruding hand. “Yeah, going to print your ugly mug all over this town. You know I hate when you call me Eds,” Eddie glares.
Richie pulls Eddie closer to him by his belt buckles and whispers, “I don’t think you do! I think you secretly love it.” He freezes when he hears footsteps approaching. His attention is stolen by Eddie’s response. He always sucked at keeping his attention on something other than Eddie when he was there.
“You know trashcans are the top five most dirty things?” Eddie changes the topic. Richie counts it as a win.
Richie listens closely, eyeing over the trashcan to who he assumes is Stan. Stan was extremely close to the alleyway they were standing in, and he pulls Eddie closer to him. Eddie was still complaining about the germs on a trashcan.
“You know most people don’t wash their hands after they throw their trash bags into the trashcans? These trashcans are in the sun all day, and insects and wild animals get in them leaving bacteria…”
Stan was getting impossibly closer, and Eddie was still yapping like a dog. Normally, he would be more than happy to hear Eddie rant on and on about something, but this was a game he was really good at, and Eddie was ruining his game!
“Harmful bacteria gets in the cans from said insects and animals, and the bacteria grows! The bacteria grows, and people go to put more trash in them. They get in contact with them again…”
One more step, and they were caught.
Richie dives in for the kill, bringing their lips together with force. Eddie’s lips are soft and free of cracked skin, most likely from his need to keep himself thoroughly clean. He’s captured by the sweet smell of the other boy. Whatever cologne Eddie uses mixes perfectly with Eddie’s natural smell from the soap he washes with.
He brings his hands up, wrapping one around Eddie’s neck with the other caressing his jaw, effectively pulling him closer to where their bodies are touching. It’s hot and feels excellent to have Eddie’s body pressed against his, and he forgets why exactly he initiated the kiss in the first place. Something about keeping Eddie quiet?
Which by the way, he loves listening to Eddie rant. He could listen to him all day rant on about the germs on a simple spoon, but god he loves the delightful silence of Eddie’s lips closed against his.
His head is spinning when Eddie finally begins to kiss back. Richie feels shy, hesitant hands on his hips, and he smiles into the kiss. He has long gone forgotten about Stan, who he doesn’t hear anymore. It was safe to say that Stan did exactly as he theorized: looked into the alley, but walked away when he didn’t see anything.
It doesn’t motivate him to break the kiss even a little bit. It actually gets him to deepen the kiss, running his tongue along Eddie’s bottom lip.
His body goes on overdrive once he feels the hot sensation of Eddie parting his lips to run his own tongue along his. Richie tilts his head to get a better angle in the kiss. The hands on his hips are more sturdy, but still slightly shy of confidence.
The hands do tighten up, and Richie knows – don’t ask him how – that Eddie was probably getting uncomfortable with all the saliva sharing. He switches things up, closing his lips and lightly yanks on the shorter boy’s hair. He smiles when he hears a surprised groan, and he takes that time to bring their bottom halves together. They both let out a moan at the contact of their clothed erections. Richie backs off, not wanting to give the other boy an actual asthma attack. He ends the kiss, giving one last peck before completely breaking contact. His heart swells when Eddie leans forward to chase the departing lips before realizing what he’s doing.
Eddie’s pupils are fucking blown, and Richie is beyond happy to know that Eddie got turned on too. He made him like this. He made Eddie’s pupils as big as the moon, and he made the tent in Eddie’s shorts. Eddie looks fucking hot right now. A smile is painted on his lips. He can’t imagine not smiling right now.
“You are so fucking cute, Eds,” Richie breathes out. Okay, he did not mean to say ‘cute’, but he apparently did right by the looks of it. Eddie’s face was as red as a tomato, looking mighty pleased. Alright, he can call Eddie cute. He can scream it to the mountaintops. Eddie was cute. He was the cutest boy he’s ever seen.
Richie tilts his head. “What?”
“There are 80 million bacteria that transfers in a kiss.”
Richie breaks out in a grin. “And you shared your 80 million bacteria with me! You really do know how to make a girl feel special.”
4-28-17. Chicago, Illinois. Chris with the winning fan, for DTLR X Black Pyramid Raffle. Wearing Lime Green Hoodie, Beige Fanny Pack $189 which are both by Supreme. Along with a pair of Nike Air Force 1s Sneakers.
57-year-old Themla Krull was last seen at her home in Transcona, Winnipeg, before she went on a hike towards Chief Peguis Trail. Her family, desperate for her return, have offered $20,000 reward for any information regarding her whereabouts. As of yet, there have been absolutely no leads in the case - “With the beginning of the fall season and the accompanying loss of foliage in the woods, as well as the high volume of hunters who venture out during this time, investigators want to remind people to be cognizant of any items they may find,” authorities have said. They have also asked that people be on the lookout for any items of clothing that Krull was wearing when she disappeared, including:
A bright reddish-orange T-shirt.
Black capri-style pants that were three-quarter-length.
A black fanny pack.
Tan or brown-coloured hiking-style boots or shoes.
Anyone with information about the case is asked to call investigators at (204) 986-6508 or Crime Stoppers at (204) 786-TIPS (8477).
The Book of Saints and Friendly Beasts. Abbie Farwell Brown. Illustrations by Fanny Y. Cory. Boston and New York: Houghton, Mifflin & Co., 1900.
“EVERY one has heard of Bridget, the little girl saint of Ireland. Her name is almost as well known as that of Saint Patrick, who drove all the snakes from the Island. Saint Bridget had long golden hair; and she was very beautiful. Many wonderful things happened to her that are written in famous books. But I suspect that you never heard what she did about the King’s Wolf. It is a queer story.”