ffs richie

anonymous asked:

ok it would honestly make my whole week if you could do a little blurb about Richie and Bev smoking cigarettes together and Richie is stressed and he confesses that he's like completely in love with Eddie and Beverly gives him advice. 💕💞

Here you go, friend! “little blurb” is not in my vocabulary!


Richie’s hand jittered as he tried to light the cigarette perched between his lips. The corners of Beverly’s mouth turned down and her eyebrows scrunched together. They were at Memorial Park, leaning against a tree not far from where Stan bird-watched. They had cut school to hang out, just the two of them; sometimes they needed it to be that way, to talk freely about their lives and wants and futures they way only best friends could. But Richie had been struggling with something and Bev intended on finding out what.

“Okay, spill,” she said, grabbing the cigarette from his lips and placing it between hers to light, taking a drag before handing it back over. She lit one of her own and settled against the tree, ignoring the itchy grass tickling her bare legs.

“Spill what?” Richie inhaled deeply, like the cancer stick was his lifeline. She smacked his arm.

“I know you’re hiding something from me!” He started fidgeting at her words: crossing his legs, scratching his right arm, his scalp, between his shoulder blades, excessively, the way only he could when he was nervous and hiding something. 

“No, I’m not-” Beverly held up a hand to stop him.

“I know all of your tells, Richie, and fidgeting is a big one.”

He huffed loudly and crossed his arms, glaring at the redhead.

“So?” She nudged him, not giving up.

“I have a lot on my mind.”

“Like?”

His face burned red as he thought of the boy, brunette hair matching his dark eyes, a smile that made Richie’s insides do the cha cha every time it was directed at him, his voice like honey…

“Richie!” Beverly shook him, hard. “Stop daydreaming and spill!”

“FINE. ihaveacrush.”

What?”

Clean out your ears, Marsh.” She grinned at him, eyes dancing with delight.

“I have a crush.” He whined, burying his face in his hands. 

“ON EDDIE? HAVE YOU TOLD HIM?”

“EDDIE?! WHAT THE FUCK?”

“You’re not as subtle as you think.”

He groaned, deflating like a balloon as he pitched forward, faceplanting into the grass. The arm of his glasses most definitely broke off again.

“Don’t you have someone else to annoy?” His voice was muffled by the ground.

“Nope, you’re stuck with me all day,” she sing-songed before tugging on the back of his shirt, pulling him back up.  He tried rewrapping the tape but it was no use. He shoved the glasses into his shirt pocket and it was understood that Bev would be his eyes on the way home.

“Richie Tozier? Afraid? I never thought I’d see the day.”

“I’m not afraid! I’m just…I have a lot on my mind.”

“Like how to woo Eddie.”

“Who says ‘woo’ anymore? You sound like my grandmother.”

“Look, just ask him out.” 

“That’s easier said than done.”

“It is easy, Richie! Just do it already!”

“That’s what your mother said last night. Ohhh!” He held his hand up for a hi-five and Bev rolled her eyes, snorting when he brought his other hand up and slapped his palms together.

“You’re an idiot.”

“It’s complicated… because it’s more than a crush. It’s full on can’t-eat-can’t-sleep-head-over-heels-Michael-Bolton-writes-songs-about-this-shit. I AM IN LOVE WITH EDDIE KASPBRAK.”

Beverly gasped, her eyes wide, mouth forming a smile already. 

“YES! I won!”

“Won what?”

“I bet the guys I could get you to admit it was more than a crush by 2 p.m. today.”

“You assholes bet on me?!”

“Yep! Ten bucks each!”

Richie got up and brushed his pants off and squinted his way to their bikes they left over by the bird bath. Bev called out for him but he ignored her. Fortunately, he was blind as a bat without his glasses so she caught up to him fairly quickly.

She grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him around.

“Look, I’ll split the money with you. Just promise me you’ll tell him. I can’t stand seeing you this miserable; your jokes are seriously lacking and they weren’t even that funny before.”

“I want 30.”

“Fine, you baby.”

“How do I do this, Bev? You know I’m all talk.”

“Be yourself, Richie. I shouldn’t be telling you this, but he admitted as much to me two weeks ago.”

“TWO WEEKS?!” He bellowed, sending the birds in the water flying for the trees. “You let me mope around for two fucking weeks?” She simply shrugged.

“I learned from the best. Honestly though, you two are perfect together. You annoy each other in all the right ways. It’s meant to be. Tell him. Tonight.”

“Is this another fucking bet?”

“No. It’s me wanting my idiot best friend to be happy.”

They formed a plan that night to win Eddie over. They enlisted Ben’s help to write a poem, Mike’s help with a mixtape, and stared him down as he stared at the phone, called Eddie, told him he needed to talk to him the next day and it was nothing bad but, well, he’ll see. 

Commit to the Bit (11/?)

Crack!AU: Pennywise isn’t an evil entity, but he’s never learned how to interact with the people in all the years he’s lived in Derry, Maine. 

A/N: I might stop posting these here because I feel like they clog dashboards. Also, hi, I’m lazy and hate the minute act of linking to the other parts of this series. 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Could you do a prompt where Richie and Eddie are having a sleepover and Eddie plays with Richies hair

I intended on this being short and sweet and fluff but then this came out instead so yeah fucking right. Angst galore because I solely listened to The Cure/the three songs listed when writing this.  Upping their age to 15/16 so people don’t @ me for writing about normal human feelings. Songs are spanning years, not just 80s. As always, thanks to the wonderful @bigbill-denbrough for betaing  ♥

This may not be what you were looking for, but I hope you enjoy this.


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song recs:
1. Spotify YouTube
2. Spotify YouTube
3. Spotify YouTube


In a rare moment, Richie’s mom finally acknowledged him, though not for anything he had wished. She was convinced he’d drank the rest of her beer (he hadn’t) and smoked the last of her cigarettes (he had). She dismissed him with slurred parting words: ‘i don’t want to see your goddamn face until you get what you fucking owe me.’

She slammed her bedroom door and he waited in the kitchen until he heard the radio turn on, a sign she’d be passed out in seconds. He trudged to his small bedroom, flicking the light on overhead and surveyed the scene. Twin size corner bed, unmade. Clothes strewn along the floor. Band posters covering two walls. School books dumped unceremoniously in front of his bed. Vinyl propped up in a milk crate next to his record player, currently housing The Cure’s Seventeen Seconds.

Rich threw a shirt, jeans, and clean underwear into his backpack, falling apart from years of carrying school books during the day and a change of clothes at night. His eyes began to water and he hastily wiped them away with the heels of his hands. A lump in his throat formed and his face burned, but he carried on with his task. He hopped on his bike, figuring it was still early enough in the day to find one of his friends at the quarry or down in The Barrens, with no luck. He rode by Beverly’s house to see if she wanted to hang out, but her father was home and Richie didn’t want to deal with another abusive parent.

Keep reading

Reddie One-shot | Why Do You Care?

Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak.

Warnings: Swearing.

Word count: 2498


He’s sixteen when he realises he’s in love with Eddie Kaspbrak.

See, Richie has never been one for the idea of love. I mean, it’s kind of the assumption or the expectation that he’s gonna get the fuck out of Derry one day and find some girl and do whatever the hell he plans on doing with his life (he’s always kind of liked the idea of working somewhere where his trashmouth and you’re being too loud Richie personality isn’t such a freaking hindrance. Because, really, he’s too loud for Derry).

When he thought of that girl he might find, he never really saw a face. He never really got excited at the prospect of meeting some curvy gal far away from the odd, shitty little town of Derry, Maine. It had been a passing thought when Bill had stuttered out when they were fifteen that he wanted to leave Derry and meet someone, because everyone in their town was odd or terrible. Stan had nodded in agreement, Mike had looked wistfully to the side, and Eddie had pulled one of his wrinkled nose little faces from where he stood in the corner of Bill’s basement, a copy of The Terminator held between his hands. Ben, their chubby friend, had left Derry a year before. Bev, of course, had left after It. Sometimes…. sometimes Richie forgot what It even was. A mess of colour and blood and screams and Eddie’s face held between his shaking hands.

Richie hadn’t thought much on love since then. He was sixteen suddenly, then, and knee deep in High School homework and cigarettes and the taste of cheap beer on his tongue. Because, fuck off would he ever touch vodka, whiskey or gin. It reminded him too much of pressing his hands against his sleeping mother’s cheeks and feeling her warm, spirit stinking breath brush across his fingertips as he wondered how she was still alive.

He sometimes used to blame his parents for his indifference toward love.

Anyway, shit, we’re going off track.

He’s sixteen and it’s a Friday and he’s Richie Tozier so of course he’s going to sneak some of his dad’s beers and hunt down his friends. Thing is, with a call to each of his shitty friends’ houses, he finds out that Bill is out on a date with Sally Smithers, Mike didn’t even bother answering his house phone, Stan is doing homework (fuckin’ homework) and, of course, Bev Marsh is long gone and has forgotten all about them (he sometimes thinks it’s weird, that she never calls and forgot so easily, because Bev loved them and they loved Bev).

He isn’t disappointed. Not really. He quite likes spending time with just Eddie. And, though Richie forces his voice to remain flippant when Ed’s smartly announces he’s free for the evening after Richie informs the boy who’s voice was still breaking that the others are busy, he’s secretly pleased when Eddie insists they go to Richie’s house, because Eddie’s mom is having one of her paranoid episodes and insisting he’s getting unwell again.

‘She’s threatening to take me to the Doctor early tomorrow. Says I have the flu’. There’s a tiredness in Eddie’s voice that Richie clenches his fists at. Though he stood up to his mother far more, Eddie Kaspbrak still found it hard to understand what was lie and truth when it came to his Ma, and Richie hated her for doing that to him.

Richie frowns and presses the plastic phone closer to his face, a sneaky smile rounding his cheeks. He looks down the hallway and into the sitting room, where he can see his Ma lounging in an armchair with the television flickering in front of her. Dad was working late. Again. ‘You don’t sound like you have the flu, Eddie Spaghetti’.

‘That’s because I don’t, dipshit’.

Richie grins and slams the phone down before yelling to his Ma that Eddie was coming round. She doesn’t answer, but Richie knows this doesn’t mean she hasn’t heard him. She just generally ignores him most of the time. He’s excited, he realises, as he stomps up the stairs in his thick black socks, ratty blue jeans and a busy button up shirt. Fingering his glasses up his long nose, he kicks open his bedroom door and glances in the mirror, noting how unruly his mass of dark hair was.

Pointedly, he stops amidst his clothes strewn floor and ruffles his hair even more. That would annoy Ed’s to no end. He would constantly remind Richie that he looked like, as the Kaspbrak shit said, a dumpster diver.

Richie wonders why the fuck he even cares.

He doesn’t worry too much about the mess of his room, nor the fact that his Ma was passed out on the armchair downstairs, watching some shitty soap opera with a half empty bottle of some cheap, supermarket vodka sitting on the carpet by her feet. Eddie, out of what remained of their Loser’s Club, was the one Richie would trust not to judge him. Sure, Stan had an overbearing dad, Bill had mourning, fucked up parents after what happened to Georgie (what happened again? Oh, the murders, the deaths, the fucked-up laughter that echoed around the tunnels like a gun going off), and Mike…well, Mike didn’t even have a mom and dad. Eddie, though, got what it was like to have a shitty mom. He had a truly fucked up, overbearing mother who made Richie’s blood boil when he thought of how much she had screwed up wide eyed and dark-haired Eddie Kaspbrak.

Eh. Screwed up or not, it was no secret Richie preferred Eddie out of all their friends. He didn’t really bother hiding it at all.

It takes only five minutes for the squeaking of brakes to sound outside of Richie’s house, and with one quick look out of his window he sees the shadow of a small form parking their bike next to his driveway. When glistening, large eyes look up at his window, Richie flips them the bird and grins before darting away.

It takes him only fifteen seconds to reach his front door, slam it open and beam wickedly down at the frowning and sighing Eddie Kaspbrak.

‘Took you fuckin’ long enough,’ Richie greets him, stepping aside as Eddie meanders in, carefully toeing off his clean, white trainers and revealing bright red socks pulled just above his ankles. He’s wearing light blue shorts and a black polo shirt with that fucking fanny pack, and Richie thinks for the thousandth time in his life that Eddie was just fuckin’ precious.

‘I left as soon as you called, dick,’ Eddie replies evenly, bending down to place his shoes neatly by the door amidst the mess of Richie’s, his Ma’s and his Pa’s shoes. For some reason, Richie eyes the neat, dark curls that rest at the base of Eddie’s neck, and thanks the stars that Eddie had allowed this small bit of rebellion against his psychotic mother. Although his hair was still immaculately kept, Richie couldn’t help but appreciate how longer hair suited the pale boy.

Richie blinks. Richie wonders why the fuck he just thought that. Richie moves swiftly along and grins yet again. ‘C’mon then, Eds. Up we go’. He doesn’t miss the way Eddie’s wide brown eyes flicker toward the dimly lit sitting room, before settling back on Richie’s face. It was always like this. Always the concern. Richie sighs. ‘She’s fine. Come on’.

He speeds up the stairs and Eddie follows, his feet padding softly after Richie’s loud steps. There is the usual sigh and tut as Eddie enters Richie’s room, to which Richie snorts and asks Eddie if he’d ask his Ma to come over and clean Richie’s room for him. ‘I’ll pay her good,’ he says, winking and snorting. ‘By that, I mean-’

Eddie grimaces and winkles his nose and pulls that prissy fucking face that always has Richie wanting to grab his cheeks and bop his nose. ‘God, you’re so gross-’

‘Bill’s on a date with Sally Smithers,’ Richie cuts across, throwing himself onto his desk chair as Eddie settles onto the edge of Richie’s bed, eyeing the clothes strewn across is distastefully. The sight of Eddie with his bare knees pressed tightly together and his hands clasped tightly between them has a smile twitching at his mouth. He’s just so cute.

‘I know. He told us today at school he was seeing her,’ Eddie replies, toes wiggling in his socks. ‘After Gym. After the showers’.

‘He did?’ Richie asks because, shit, he was barely even listening. He was too busy glaring daggers at the shits who were making fun of Eddie tiny frame as the boys showered away the sweat of Gym. Funny thing was, it was the freaking AV geeks who were doing it, and Richie could safely say they had no right making fun of other people’s looks. Little shits. Especially Eddie’s look, because Eddie was like a…a fucking pretty snowflake, or something. ‘Oh. I’d rather spend time with my Ed’s, anyway’.

Eddie colours at that and Richie grins. He freaking loved making Eddie blush. It happened more and more since they were kids, since the world tilted and shit hit the fan.

‘You want a beer?’ he says, because it’s almost like a ritual now. It wasn’t uncommon for Eddie to come to Richie’s when the others were busy, and it wasn’t uncommon for Richie to offer him a drink.

It also wasn’t uncommon for Eddie to reply, ‘Do you know how disgusting that shit is? The calories, the taste – it tastes like piss, Richie-’

‘How do you know what piss tastes like, Eds?’

‘Beep beep, Richie. And don’t call me Eds! I hate that!’

Richie snorts and reaches behind him and into his open draw, pulling out a can of cheap beer and cracking the cap. It smells like it tastes. Bitter and sweet at the same time and just a little bit gross. ‘Fuckin’ liar’.

Eddie shakes his head and clenches his hands in his lap, his eyes dipping to the floor and a splash of pink spreading up his neck. Richie watches like a man starved of the sight as he brings the can to his lips and takes a deep swig, dark eyes on Eddie’s pale skin flushed rosy. ‘You shouldn’t drink that,’ Eddie says, looking up to meet Richie’s gaze. ‘It’s bad for you’.

‘I know that,’ Richie says, and it comes out sharper than he intends it to. He hates it when his friends say shit about drinking in front of him, because he knows better than anyone how bad the shit can be for you. It’s fucking hypercritical, anyway. If there’s some party, or when anyone is drinking down by the Barrens, then they don’t care about drinking. Then it’s okay for Richie to get battered and dance to Africa by Toto because, really, that song was fucking great. Once, Eddie actually got a little tipsy and danced with him, too.

So what if he likes to drink at the weekends? It’s the freaking weekend.

‘I know you do, Richie,’ says Eddie, and it’s soft and not teasing at all and Richie stops drinking and stares at him, swallowing the beer tightly. Eddie is sitting on the edge of his bed, ankles crossed and pale legs bare and wide brown eyes looking dead at Richie, opening his mouth as if to speak again.  

Richie blurts out the first thing he can think of, because Eddie’s eyes on him are making him itchy and uncomfortable and he somehow feels like a piece of trash next to a fucking bottle of bleach, because Eddie is clean and perfect and Richie is not. ‘Why the fuck do you care, Eddie Spaghetti?’

Eddie stalls and colours and glares furiously at Richie, his Adams Apple bobbing as he looks pointedly to the wall across the room. ‘You’re such a fuckin’ dick, Richie’. A pause in which Richie opens his mouth to retaliate with some grinning, smart-ass remark, but then Eddie says, ‘Why the fuck do you care about what those dicks at school say about me and how I look, or how my mom is, huh?’

Richie breathes in.

The answer arrives his head like it has always been there, but nobody had ever bothered to ask the question. Why was it that Richie Tozier always slung his arm around Eddie Kaspbrak’s shoulders when their group met after school, but no one else’s? Why was it that he watched closely when Eddie breathed too heavily in Gym, because even though his breathing problems were bullshit, Richie knew it still scared Eddie? Why was it he kept a spare inhaler in his messy back-pack, and had flipped Stan off when the other boy had found out? Why was it that he hadn’t called Bill, or Stan, or Mike at all tonight, but had convinced himself that his friends would be busy with the things that usually took up their lives, rather than just ask? Hell, Bill had been on a date. Maybe Richie had been listening after all. Still, he knows. He wanted Eddie all to himself. 

Richie breathes out.

So, Richie blinks and Eddie blinks back, because it’s been nearly a full minute and Richie hasn’t answered, and no one had ever rendered him freaking speechless before. Eddie is starting to look nervous, as if he is actually worried such a simple question might have broken the trashmouth Tozier.

‘Shit,’ says Richie, cradling the tin can in his hands and blinking behind his jam-jar glasses at the bewildered looking Eddie. He kicks his legs out in front of him and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. ‘I think it’s because I’m in love with you, Eds’.

He honestly sees Eddie’s breath catch.

It takes a moment for the smile to spread across Eddie’s face, and Richie is quite sure that smile could kick the mother-fucking suns ass. Suddenly, he’s half-smiling too. He’s placing the beer hastily on the side and it’s sloshing over his comic-strewn desk, but he doesn’t care because Eddie Kaspbrak is stumbling across the room and planting his mouth hastily against Richie’s, and it is fucking great.

Understatement. It is fucking fantastic.

When he pulls away, Eddie is practically sitting on his lap with his hands placed on Richie’s shoulders, and Richie is holding Eddie by the waist and Eddie is smiling with the least threatening glare Richie has ever seen (because Richie has seen Eddie’s threatening glare, and it is fucking terrifying. Do not underestimate him, because Richie has seen him fuck up something they call It when they were just thirteen) and he is sighing and tugging at Richie’s mop of hair and telling him, ‘About time, you fuckin’ trashmouth. Bill was about ready to smack you if you took any longer’. 

Richie nods and agrees because, shit, how had it taken him so long?

‘And don’t call me Ed’s, you fuckin’ dick’.

Do You Want Fries With That?

Chapter 4/? 
Read on Ao3
Previous Chapter | First Chapter


Stan checked the red illuminated numbers of his watch, the bright LED lights hurt his tired eyes. 

[01:40].

Stan groaned as he shifted slightly in Richie’s bed, trying not to wake the sleeping figure next to him - who was currently splayed out like a starfish, forcing Stan to grapple onto the edge of the bed before he was pushed into the mountain of dirty clothes and comic books which was Richie Tozier’s bedroom floor. Stan couldn’t sleep. Normally he was asleep in his pristine white bed by ten o’clock, but not tonight, because tonight he wasn’t sleeping in his familiar abode - he was bunking with a hoarder.

Stan was exhausted - the soft glow of the stars peering through Richie’s half-closed curtains were burning his eyes, feeling as though the moon is mocking him for the restless night. Stan had never had difficulty sleeping with one of the Loser’s before. Eddie’s room was always fairly clean anyway but Bill always spent the day before hosting a sleepover cleaning the house if he knew Stan was attending. Stan wasn’t as bad anymore, he takes his medication and he can deal with small things like Bill’s posters being slightly lopsided, or Eddie’s pill bottles being arranged alphabetically instead of by size, or even the way Richie’s glasses were never quite sitting on his face right. Stan suspected he had sat on them and never bothered to get them fixed.

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Heavy Thoughts and Shooting Stars - StarshipDancer - IT (2017)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Or read it on FF.net

“Richie always liked loud, engaging activities. Arcades. Movies. But stargazing?

What made matters worse was that Richie had barely said anything. Eddie hadn’t even realized that Richie knew how to close his mouth, let alone keep it that way.”

Eddie Kaspbrak has three problems, and Richie Tozier’s one of them.

anonymous asked:

5 WITH REDDIE PLEASSEEEE!!!! From your most recent prompt post!

Stan and Eddie were at Stan’s house, trading comic books one Saturday afternoon. Eddie was telling Stan how annoying Richie is going on and on. Stan gave him a look but Eddie didn’t notice because he was ranting, his nose in a comic book. 

“He’s so rude all the time, always talking about-” his voiced dropped in a whisper as his face flushed, “fucking my mother like what is that shit about?”

“Eddie, please shut up,” Stan begged. Eddie scrunched his face up in an “excuse you?” look but quieted down.

For a couple of minutes.

“And another thing! I HATE when he calls me Eds or Eddie Spaghetti. It’s not my name and I always end up imagining myself with these long noodly arms and legs and-”

Stan groaned and flopped onto his bed, covering his head with his pillow. Eddie twisted around and dragged the pillow away. 

“Why does it bother you so much?” Stan threw his hands up in the air, staring at the ceiling

“It doesn’t!”

“You’ve been at this for half an hour, dude. It bothers you.”

“It’s just rude!” Eddie tossed his comic down, crossing his arms in a sort of pout.

“He does it to everyone.”

“I get the worst of it!”

“So? He likes you.”

“No, he doesn’t. It wouldn’t kill him to be nice, though.”

Stan sat up and stared at Eddie, realization coloring his face.

“Oh my god… you’re in love with him.”

“What?! No I’m not. No, he’s rude and mean and annoying and-”

“And you’re in love with him!” Stan screeched, falling back onto his bed and kicking his feet into the air. 

“Fuck off, Uris,” Eddie stood up and shoved the boy onto the floor. Stan laughed harder. Eddie’s face flushed and he grasped around for his inhaler.

Finally Stan’s giggles subsided and he propped himself up on an elbow, looking over at Eddie who was on the floor, leaning against the bed, arms crossed over his legs which were pulled tight to his chest. His cast mocked him, the word Loser dark and scratchy against his stark white bandage. His face burned even more. 

“Seriously, Eddie. Are you?”

“No.” The younger boy huffed and look out the window, his burning face nearing the color of his bright track shorts.

“Eddie.” Stan knelt near the boy and shook his shoulder. “Eddie, I’m sorry for laughing at you, just tell me.” 

Eddie glared at him and Stan couldn’t suppress the smile spreading across his face.

“STAN.”

“I’m sorry! It’s cute! We’ve actually all been waiting for you two idiots to realize this.”

What?”

Yep! We’ve taken bets on it. I think Bev won?”

WHAT?!”

“Honestly, it’s cute how oblivious you two are.”

Stan got up and crossed the room opening his desk drawer, finding a red sharpie in there.

“What are you doing, Stan?”

“You ready?” He asked, uncapping the pen before sitting beside Eddie.

When Stan moved away, Eddie found a bright ‘V’ staring back up at him. 

L O V E R

“For?”

“Let’s go get you that boy.”

wyattghouleff  asked:

if u aren't too busy, maybe some reddie head canons! who hangs the stockings, who loves christmas carols, stuff like that :'))

:)

  • Richie starts celebrating in November, scooping up nearly every decoration he can find in stores (”they wouldn’t put them out if you weren’t supposed to buy them, Eds!”)
  • Eddie decorated stockings for himself and Richie the first Christmas they moved in together. (He asked Stan for help writing the names in glitter glue because he has the best handwriting and the steadiest hand). 
  • Decorating is a long process in the Kaspbrak-Tozier household, because Richie is always tasked with making popcorn strands and he always eats at least two bags himself. Eddie polishes every. single. ornament before and after its on the tree.
  • They hang up mistletoe in every doorway for an excuse to kiss each other (not that they don’t kiss each other an obnoxious amount anyways)
  • Eddie plays the piano (Bill’s mom teaches him their favorite Christmas songs: Jingle Bells (Batman Smells), Silent Night, White Christmas, DO You Hear What I Hear?) because Richie has the better voice and a knack for theatrics. They put on a show and it’s always the most talked about thing at their annual Christmas parties
  • Richie gets too drunk sometimes and tried to herd everyone into the front yard for a snowball fight. 
  • They always squabble when hanging up Christmas lights because Richie insists on standing on the top ladder rung while Eddie screeches at him from below about how dangerous that is you could fall and break an arm or your neck. Once, Richie did almost fall because Eddie let go of the ladder to scrunch his hands into fists and ball them in his hair with worry
  • They get matching Christmas sweaters every year from Beverly- a deep red color that contrasts with their dark green tree they always take their Christmas card photo in front of. Sometimes they wear Santa hats, Richie once wore angel wings, but they always wear those sweaters.
  • They exchange mixtapes every year, a left over tradition from their first Christmas together as fifteen year olds.
  • Christmas Eve, they open one present each: a mug for hot cocoa or cider, and a new set of pajama bottoms (Richie’s always end up discarded on the floor because he hates pajamas)
  • Christmas morning, Eddie and Richie make a smorgasbord of breakfast food before ripping into their presents, then curling up on the couch for a nap. They head over to Bill and Mike’s to meet the rest of the group and exchange presents and reminisce about the old days.

anonymous asked:

Hi!! I love your blog, and I was wondering if you can do some Richie and Bev headcanons? Because their friendship needs more attention and love. :)

thanks! i’m actually writing a two-parter about reverly/reddie so you’ll probably see some of these in that.

  • richie and beverly spend hours in record stores, picking out their favorites and memorizing their every detail 
  • eddie gets jealous of their time together but richie assures him that, just because he’s bi, he isn’t in love with everyone he knows
  • richie will give bev his last cigarette, even if he needs it, and vice versa. they usually end up sharing anyways
  • bev mends the tears richie gets in his clothes and eventually teaches him how to do it himself
  • beverly teaches richie to knit too
  • they go to horror movies and laugh at everything
  • they talk in weird high pitched voices and when one of them is upset, the other says silly words in a deep voice to make the other laugh
  • they sneak out at 1 am just to go to mcdonalds and the dip fries in their ice cream cones and wipe their sticky hands on their jeans
  • they go to football games and baseball games and cheer for mike and bill, wearing the scarves they made each other
  • richie makes beverly a mix tape that consists of don’t you forget about me twelve times in a row
  • beverly flips him off again
  • he helps her dye her hair green, blue, purple, pink
  • she paints his fingernails black, and then multicolored once he’s comfortable
  • they get matching (home) lip piercings and eddie loses. his. shit. ben and bill are into it. they take them out a month later
  • they get walkie talkies and even though they live too far apart to get a good enough signal to use them, they’re comforted knowing the other is there
  • when things get too heavy around home, they go for a walk, wrapped up in hoodies and blankets. they build a fire near the park and talk
  • richie was a model in beverly’s first fashion show
  • they make daily phone calls after rich moves to la and bev moves to new york and they miss each other so much it hurts
  • so they start doing yearly, then bi-yearly, then monthly 3-day weekend trips. 
  • they still have those walkie talkies

doyouwannafeelbeautiful  asked:

hi! could you do a short little reddie fic based off the song perfect by edsheeran?? it's just a really cute song and the first time i heard it i was like,,, reddie.. thanks babes <3

hi! certainly! hope you like it!


it was 1 am, an hour after the derry high prom had ended and richie was driving a dozing eddie back home. the seven friends had rented a hotel room but eddie had gotten sick and richie promised to keep him safe, so now they were on a dark road, the rain turning into a fine mist as they made their way through the town. eddie’s head was against the window, but his fingers were intertwined with richie in the middle seat.

“sorry we had to leave early, rich.”

“it’s okay eds,” richie grinned, squeezing the boys hand. normally eddie would protest, roll his eyes and whine about the nickname but he smiled slightly and squeezed back.

“we missed the last slow dance,” eddie said regretfully.

“does that bother you?”

“maybe a little… i like slowdancing with you.”

richie let go of eddie’s hand to flip through the radio, landing on one his parents usually listened to, some sappy love song or another always floating through the speakers. normally he’d groan and cover his ears but for tonight, the perfect song was playing, their song.

eddie’s mouth curled into a grin as he heard robert smith’s voice crooning
however far away, i will always love you

he and richie had listened to lovesong on their first date, one that ended up much like tonight, sitting on the bed of the truck sharing a cup of hot cocoa, listening to music. 

richie flung open the door and walked around the front of the truck to help eddie out.

“richie, what are you doing?”

“you said you wanted to slow-dance, so come on.” he winked, holding his hand out. eddie had thrown his shoes in the backseat as soon as they got in the truck and now he pointed to richie’s, indicating he do the same.

the truck headlights illuminated them and elongated their shadows, making them ten feet tall as they danced through the dark night, the dewy grass soaking their pant cuffs. 

“i bet i look awful,” eddie mumbled, pink tinting his cheeks.

“you look perfect, eddie,” richie’s voice was husky and he quickly captured eddie’s lips in his. eddie’s fingers made their way into richie’s wild curls and he thought, not for the first time in their relationship, how lucky he was, and how, without a doubt, richie was his future

anonymous asked:

just saying your blog is lowkey one of my favorites and if you have the time you should write some angsty reddie with player™ richie !!!

lowkey? ummmm shout it from the rooftops, bae. 

No but really, I’m honored THANK YOU SO MUCH that means so much to me!!!

angsty reddie!

Keep reading

when you know i can’t

for anon. first off this is a heartbreaking, beautiful song and i’m so happy you asked me to do this. i hope i’ve done it justice.

mentions of underage drinking/hook ups
this is angsty. like, there’s no hope. like, these boys are s u f f e r i n g.

enjoy!


richie stared at the roof below his feet, hands gripping the windowsill, ears burning, eyes welling up with tears. but he wouldn’t cry, not in front of him, not this time. his teeth sunk into his lip and he blinked back tears, still not looking up. he scuffed the toe of his sneaker against the grainy shingle, shivering from the slight wind, regretting his thin flannel. he didn’t ask him to come in; he never did. only tensed up when the other boy spoke.

“i’ll never be yours, richie, not the way you want me to. i can’t love you.”

“why?”

“how many times are we going to do this?” stan rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. this had happened at least two or three times before: richie coming over at two in the morning or cornering stan in the hallway or at baseball practice, confessing his love; stan always gently rejected him. but now stan was tired, tired of being woken up and tired of being asked for something he couldn’t give.

Keep reading

but like are there any actual it x stranger things crossover fics- not prompts- that i should read because i need that in my life pls pls

(other than this one that i cry about daily because it hasn’t been updated)

letter home

excerpts of letters from the losers club, on the verge of success, to mike hanlon 


i’m sorry it’s taken me so long to write this! life has been crazy- i found a small apartment and while it’s not all that glamorous, there’s a second room that i can work on my sewing. i submitted some designs to a shop and i got in! i’m the new assistant fashion designer at delia’s, are you at all surprised? i’ve been learning about jewelry- remember those silver earrings i had? i wish i knew what happened to them. lost in one move or another, i suppose! you always said i was destined for great things. thank you, mikey, for everything.


i’m doing it, mikey! i’m opening my own business like we talked about! my parents and the in-laws are worried but patty is fully on board. i can’t wait for you to finally meet her. we’re actually looking to start a family if you can believe it! nothing so far, but i’ve been thinking about a getting a pet, maybe a cat or a dog. how about a turtle? a turtle sounds nice. can’t wait to hear from you!


remember how i told you  i just sold my first story- it’s called “the dark” and it’s about a boy who battles a monster in the cellar- god, i didnt even intend on writing it. i just sat down and it came so easily, like it was waiting to happen. i couldn’t shake the sense of deja vu too, but whatever it was never came to me. funny, huh? anyways i’m sending a copy too; the magazine white tie is publishing it. as always, looking forward to your thoughts.


you’ll never guess who i just picked up in the limo- al pacino! the company is really taking off here. ma will die when i tell her! and myra? she and i are getting married! we just closed on a house, it’s huge! we don’t need the extra space but, i figured i had the money now and no kids, i can afford to splurge a little. i don’t remember the last time i was this happy, mike. not since we were kids, at least! remember all the days we spent in the barrens? we built something, a clubhouse. i remember it caught on fire? i think that was one of the last times. i know something happened, ma kept me from going down there much after that… take care of yourself, mike.


i did it mikey! i made it! i’m on the radio now! it’s not a great high paying gig, just the traffic reports, but it’s something! me, richie tozier- the man of a thousand voices. and to think, you guys made fun of me when we were kids. beep beep richie and all that. well, ha! i feel like i’m floating, like a balloon… strange,i keep feeling like i need to ask you something, maybe about a balloon? a old birthday party, probably! when are you getting out of that town, anyway, come visit your old friend? i’m gonna have a great pad in l.a. just say the word, you’re welcome any time.


i’m working on a new building, a communications center in london- i’ll let you in on a secret that im sure you already know- it’s the derry library corridor turned on its head. you remember all the days we spent in there, researching… well, i can’t remember what. it must have been school work. remember how happy we were? i miss those days. i’m out in nebraska now when i’m not working, you know how i hated moving around so much. give me a call, i’d love to have you out here.