Dude, ATN? Human Furniture? Verbal Assaults, Physical Humiliations, Nazi Stuff, Shooters...I Just Don't

(1) "Why would you bring me here?" Eddie asks, shifting nervously. He still lets Richie walk him over to the bridge, leaning on him a little, shaky on his feet after how much time he'd spent bedridden during his recovery. The kissing bridge isn't exactly home to a lot of warm, fuzzy memories. Unless... No. No, he's sure that's not possible. But Richie has an arm around him, and seems nervous himself-- nervous, but certain-- and so what can Eddie do but follow?

(2) “When we were kids, I… Okay, feel free to tell me this is stupid, but– You know that summer? Well… I just want you to know I was thinking about you, I guess.” Richie glances down at the carved initials as they reach the spot, his fingertips brushing over the E. “There’s a lot I might not remember still, maybe there are still things I never will, but… I remember that, and I remember you. How it felt not to see you, when I thought I’d never go more than a day without you…”

(3) “Rich…” Eddie winds his arms around Richie’s neck, leaning into him. He breathes him in a long moment before he moves in for a kiss. There’s more, he thinks– more old pain from that summer that Richie remembers, that they might talk about in time, when it doesn’t feel so fresh again. Now that they remember the bad times, they can actually process it all and move on, at least. But this is what he’d deemed important, this testament to young love, then unspoken.

(4) “And… shit, and I know everyone knew about me, and I was so afraid of what would happen to me if I couldn’t convince them they were wrong… I was afraid the whole time I was writing it, but I didn’t care. If that makes sense. I just wanted to pretend that it was all right, just for a minute, because I was sick of being scared and I was sick of pretending you weren’t it for me. You always have been.” He strokes Eddie’s cheek tenderly, thumb tracing his scar. “You still are.”

(5) The memory hits him then, the more Richie talks about how he’d felt and why he’d overcome his fear just enough, just in secret, to leave their initials on the bridge. Kneeling in the dirt, his heart pounding in his throat, his arm still in a cast. Knowing his mother would be upset at how long he took to come home, knowing she would be upset with the dirt, and being so angry with her because he hadn’t seen any of his friends in days, and he missed all of them, but Richie was different…

(6) “Richie, look down.” Eddie kisses his jaw, soft, then points out the R, encircled by a slightly wonky heart. “I knew I’d… I knew I must have done something here, and I didn’t remember, until– It was that same summer. And don’t be an asshole, it looks like that because I was in a cast, I–” And Richie cuts him off with a kiss before he can defend his own carving ability, one arm firm around his waist, one hand in his hair, and maybe with a kiss like that, he wouldn’t mind a little tease…

(7/7) “It’s perfect.” Richie says, and kisses him again, and then a third time. “Really. It’s the most perfect. It’s… You’re perfect. You, too? All this time, and– Yeah, yeah. Okay. Perfect.” He kisses him one last time, before offering his arm, and pulling out his phone. He gets a picture of the two engravings on the bridge, grinning, and then he leads Eddie back to the car. They’ve got a future together now, far away from Derry… but after twenty-seven years, it’s nice to know.

- - -

ANON THIS IS SO SWEET. I’ll come fix the cut when I’m not on my phone ;;

Succession + text posts (11/?)

Thanks to an anon before cuz now I'm thinking what if Eddie found out he liked being thrown around by Richie and it all started when Richie accidently pushed him against the wall too hard when they kissed and he's all omg im so sorry eddie im sorry please you're so tiny im so sorry oh god but Eddie is internally fuck im so turned on, could he choke me??

Sure I've read fics where Richie started out as a 'bully' with Bowers... but what if Eddie moved to Derry and is a distant cousin of Henry and absolutely h a t e s that people treat him differently, like he'll set Henry on them, but at least there's the cute guy who likes to play at the arcade with him

Imagine if Reddie kiss without the others knowing except Richie has braces and Eddie cut his lip from it and the gang ask what happened to his lip and Eddie gay panics

Fic!Stan really will always be that bitch.

Like if Richie were to take his shirt off and there were scratches on it and people would be like "damn who is she, man??" and Stan would look at Eddie and be like "you really need to cut your nails"

And i love that.

What if there's a fic where Richie is famous and Eddie, for the life of him doesn't know WHY maybe because he's kind of hot... follows him on IG.

Richie posts a story where he's at somewhere gross or touching something and Eddie couldn't stop himself leaving a comment, something like "That's so unsanitary, do you know you could get a disease from that, asshole?" and didn't realise the comment gets sent as a DM until he gets a response back something like "damn talk dirty to me more hotstuff," and now Richie won't leave him alone

SAW james wan, 2004

(1) "What-- uh, what-- Hey." Richie hates himself, just a little, or maybe a lot. His brain started dribbling out his ears the moment he saw Eddie in those short shorts. If anything, shorter shorts than the ones he used to wear, and it's not like he has to pretend he's not attracted to the guy--sure, they're in kind of a holding pattern, what with Eddie dealing with his divorce and his recovery, but they live together, they share a bed, it's just kind of a weird time and kind of a weird start.

(2) “You’re taking me to physical therapy today.” Eddie looks at him like he’s being an idiot. “Hence my workout clothes.” And he gestures to the whole thing, the tiny shorts and the just-cropped-enough top, as if he’s been dressed like that the whole time, which Richie would have noticed. Gone are the track pants and fairly modest top of old, this is… Is it that the weather is warmer now? Or does God hate Richie Tozier and want him to suffer an inconvenient boner?

(3) “Yeah.” He swallows. Eddie is so… wow. He’s in good shape, clearly he got some mileage out of his workout gear before the PT necessary to his recovery, but it’s more than that. Those bare legs come with a lot of memories that Richie is more than ready to overwrite with current Eddie, not to mention every fantasy he ever had in his teen years, which could be real now, or soon enough. “I’ll get my keys.”

(4) At the PT clinic, Richie tries to focus on reading waiting area magazines and playing with his phone, he honestly does, but half the time he has the perfect view of Eddie hard at work, and how is he supposed to ignore those legs, that little strip of abdomen? How is he supposed to ignore the way it feels knowing Eddie isn’t just alive, but really recovering from everything, strong, resilient… ready to throw himself at yesterday’s limits.

(5) After they take him into the back and do their thing with ice packs and heat packs and pulses of electricity and massage, he comes back to Richie, a little wobbly, the good kind of tired, relaxed and ready to go– and more importantly, ready to come in for a long hug before confirming his next appointment. A hug where Richie gets to lean down and indulge in the scent of a little sweat in Eddie’s hair and the feel of wrapping him up in his arms. Well, he gets to do that all the time.

(6) It’s the sweat that’s different– he’s only really sweaty after PT, they’re not yet at the point where they do sweaty things in that bed they’re already sharing. They’re at the point where they’ve admitted to wanting to, and the cuddling is plentiful but the kisses are still chaste. It’s good, he thinks– they both need to deal with their own emotions before they can be good for each other, he has to process some stuff and so does Eddie, but… no one expects him not to want.

(7) “Perv.” Eddie accuses gently, as he always does when he catches Richie smelling his hair, whether it’s for the scent of post-workout sweat, or because he’s just out of the shower and smells vaguely tropical. And Richie can only hum in agreement this time, because he absolutely is. He fingers the hem of Eddie’s short, short shorts, and thinks about the way it feels to wrap him up completely in a hug, and he absolutely is.

(8) “Can’t help it if you’re cute.” He says, when Eddie gives him a gentle shove that in no way means he should let him go– Eddie knows how to ask if he really wants space, but he craves the physicality of being able to push and tug and wrestle, that hasn’t changed one bit. And now he’s strong enough to be able to, at least a little, and he’s living for it. And he is cute, Richie always used to think he was cute, used to love how little he was because… well, because that was cute.

(9) Now, though… now it’s not just cute, now he’s realizing what he really likes is that he’s bigger. Some of it he knows comes out of wanting to protect him, he’s always felt protective of him, not in a coddling kind of way, but he’d always put himself between Eddie and trouble if he had the chance. And some of it is the joy of winding up on top, he thinks, whenever Eddie starts a tussle. He’s looking forward to getting to do that properly. To claiming kisses with his victories… and more.

(10) “Hey– tomorrow is my follow-up with the doctor to see how PT is going, and… you know, tests and shit.” Eddie says, as Richie walks him to the car with an arm around his shoulders. There’s a forced air of casualness, and Richie kisses his temple. Tests, Eddie hates tests the way he hates hospitals. At least these aren’t bullshit like when they were kids, but still. He doesn’t want to go alone and he doesn’t have to.

(had to pause there for bit but there’s more! 11) “Say the word and your devoted chauffeur will escort you to your appointment, my dear Edward. Mister Spaghetti, if you’re nasty.” Richie says, patting Eddie’s leg absently, and then having an internal Moment because he pats his leg all the time when they’re cuddled on the couch and Eddie’s in his pajamas, but now his hand is resting on warm bare skin. “Or is it Mister Spaghetti if I’m nasty?”

(12) “It’s never Mister Spaghetti, and you’re always nasty.” Eddie’s hand comes down to cover his, to trap it against his leg, his leg, his bare leg, hair somehow coarse and silky at the same time, skin impossibly warm. “No, I just– I wanted to let you know, I was planning on asking. Um, asking my doctor if my progress in physical therapy meant I could engage in… other physical activities, without a professional present.”

(13/13) To his credit, Richie doesn’t make a dumb joke. His expression is probably a dumb joke, but he behaves himself pretty well. He lets go of Eddie’s leg so that he can bring his hand up to be kissed, once he has any semblance of control over himself again, and he nods, not trusting his mouth, and Eddie gives him a smile before settling back into his seat for the drive home. Home… home with a tiny cute man in his tiny cute shorts, and nothing could be better.

- - - ThIS WAS SO CUUUTE THANK YOU ANON OMGOSH

Imagine Richie not looking where he's going, because he's damn late, and collides with a runner and finds himself sprawled over a hottie who wears the shortest shorts he's ever seen and he hears himself gawk a "fuck me... look at you."