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@edkaspbrakk
CHAPTER 01/??
I really don’t know where this will go, I just wanted to work on a comic again and practice my digital art stuff because I suck at that. So… I’m sorry if this turns out to be a bad fanfiction haha [fucking hope it won’t]
let’s talk about sex
III - Alcohol
summary:
“My boyfriend won’t have sex with me.”
Eddie Kasprak is a twenty-two year old studying to be a doctor. He is also struggling to be intimate with his three year long boyfriend, Graeme. Enter in Dr Maggie Tozier, a very successful sex therapist who takes on Eddie as a client. Then he meets her son. Richie, who unlocks a lot of feelings Eddie hasn’t felt in a long time. You know where this is going….
words: 3,059
chapter rating: e (explicit), (overall rating - explicit)
a/n: enjoy this new chapter! There is notsfw here! Also if anyone here is struggling with anything mentioned in the fic, please know that there is always help available to you! Also please please consider donating to my Ko-fi (I also do take commissions!)
*click on chapter title to read on AO3
The nerves that Eddie was feeling when he read the message from Graeme made the feeling of nausea build up in his stomach. Normally, if Graeme wanted to talk, then normally he would call and explain what it was before they agreed to meet up. This time, the message was ominous and because they hadn’t spoken since their fight, it only made the situation more nerve wracking.
Sure, I’m just heading to my apartment right now. Do you want to meet me there? - Eddie
Two minutes after Eddie sent the text, a reply came in from Graeme, alerting him that he was on his way and would be with Eddie in about ten minutes. Eddie picked up his pace, making it back home in record time before Graeme could get there first. The last thing he needed was Graeme asking him questions about where he had been and why he was out so late.
Graeme arrived at Eddie’s apartment a few minutes later, knocking on the door as he was familiar with the main door code. Eddie sucked in a deep breath before opening the door, smiling as softly as he could at his boyfriend. Graeme did manage a smile back as he stepped inside, kicking off his shoes and heading to the living room. “Listen, Eddie about the other day. I’m sorry about the way I acted. After you left I realised how much of an asshole I sounded like and after taking a few days to think, I believe I owe you an explanation.”
“An explanation for what?” Eddie asked, taking a seat next to Graeme on the sofa. Suddenly, all the anger he had been feeling about Graeme and his attitude melted away. It was clear that Graeme had been going through something serious. “You can tell me anything, we might not be…affectionate with one another but that doesn’t mean that I don’t care.”
Keep reading
––– Selina Soldner
i love them 🥺
richie 2:13am
heyo
u awake?
eddie 2:14am
unfortunately yes
(not because of you)
why?
richie 2:15am
just woke up from the WORST dream evr
ur mom dragged u away + u moved w/o saying bye
srsly i woke up sweating. i think a tear ran down my cheek
eddie 2:18am
oh
yeah i definitely would never do that.
sorry on account of dream me
eddie 2:30am
did you fall back asleep?
i’m awake, talk to me more
richie 2:32am
sry
not asleep just thinkin
it made me realize
how much u mean to me
eddie 2:32am
you mean a lot to me too rich
richie 2:33am
aw eds :’’’) u make me blush
cutie patootie!!!!
wish i was with u rn
eddie 2:35am
:)
[Richie stares at his phone, stares at the small smiley face taunting him on the screen illuminating his face in his dark bedroom. His left arm is falling asleep, he should probably shift positions, and he should really put on his glasses because but he can’t stop squinting at his texts. “it made me realize how much u mean to me” - Yowza, ain’t that the truth?
He’s tired, ripped from unconsciousness by the unpleasant dream, speaking in a half-awake state of raw honesty. He does mean a lot to him. All of his friends mean a lot to him, but Eddie? Eddie’s the only one he’d text at 2:13am in a cold sweat.]
{Eddie’s heart is bursting free in the dark confines of his room. He can hear his pulse thrumming in his ears, his face hot against the fabric of his pillowcase. He’s smiling so hard his cheeks hurt, looking down at his phone, alone in his bedroom. Richie’s texts give him an intense burst of energy – excitement? possibility? hope? - at a time he would otherwise be frustrated at being awake. His messages hit differently at 2am.}
(The next day, they don’t talk about the late-night exchange. Someday they will, they both tell themselves. Someday.)
For the kids prompts, Can you do 45 and Reddie?
Hi Nonnie! Of course, I’m happy to fill 45. Thanks so much for the ask 😊 hope you like it ♥️
45) Kisses exchanged as they move around, hitting the edges of tables or nearly tripping over things on the floor before making it to the sofa, or bed.
Fuck Fight Club and Pretty Woman too
“You wanna fill me in on why you’ve been a grade-A asshole all night, Eddie?”
Richie was pissed. More pissed than Eddie could ever remember him being.
And it was all his fault.
Not that he’d admit it
He took his time hanging up his coat, staring doggedly at it and ignoring Richie’s piercing gaze burning a hole into the side of his head.
“I don’t know what you’re—
“Oh cut the crap, Kaspbrak, you know exactly what I’m talking about,” Richie practically growled, shirking off his jacket, draping it over the couch and throwing his keys onto the coffee table instead of the key holder in the exact way he knew drove Eddie up the wall.
Eddie did in fact know what he was talking about. His sour mood had not gone unnoticed among some of Richie’s associates the entire latter half of the evening. It hung over him like a dark cloud as he grew quiet and withdrawn, excluding when he threw more than a few barbed comments at one of the particularly obnoxious attendees.
But Eddie was never the type to give in this early on in an argument. Well, unless it was against his ex-wife back when they were miserably married and he just gave her her way to avoid having to talk for long periods of time. With his best friend/roommate, though? He only dug his heels in deeper. Always had. Since the day they met in third grade.
“No Richie, I don’t know,” he replied through a clenched jaw, snatching up the keys and depositing them in the little dish by the door, where they were meant to go, “why don’t you enlighten me?”
Richie stormed into the kitchen, wrenching open the fridge door roughly and pulling out a beer, twisting the cap off and angrily guzzling it.
Eddie watched him, a spike of irritation beginning to form under his skin.
Richie’s infuriation was infectious.
“Don’t throw the—”
The words died in Eddie’s throat as he watched Richie fling the bottle cap towards the garbage can like he did most nights, despite nine times out of ten missing the shot by a mile.
The cap bounced off the lid and clinked to the floor.
Eddie saw red.
“Oh for fuck’s sake, Richie! Why do you always—”
“Were you jealous?”
Eddie blinked.
The atmosphere in the room began to shift.
Heat rushed up his neck, to his cheeks as Richie tilted his head, an unreadable expression on his face.
“Why would I be jealous?” Eddie asked, eyes lowered as he bent down to pick up the bottle cap. “You’re entitled to flirt with whoever you want.”
Richie snorted, and even though Eddie couldn’t see his face, he knew he was rolling his eyes.
“I wasn’t flirting with him, Eds. He was flirting with me.”
Eddie’s entire body tensed as he straightened up, shuffling over to the trash can and muttering over his shoulder, “Whatever. It’s not like I’m your boyfriend or something.”
He could feel Richie’s stare piercing into the back of his head as he continued, “We…we’re just best friends who get each other off, Rich. And that…that can change whenever you want.”
A beat of silence met those words.
Eddie refused to turn around.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He couldn’t decipher anything in Richie’s voice, it sounded almost robotic, but a dart of pain shot through Eddie’s chest, right under his scar anyway as he tried to prepare himself for what he had to say next.
“It means…” he began as evenly as he could, moving across the kitchen to get a glass, his back still turned, “if you wanna date, or…or fuck other dudes, or whatever…have at it. We’ll…we’ll stop this…” he waves a hand over his shoulder to where he estimated Richie was standing, “arrangement. No questions asked.”
Because if anything was obvious to Eddie after seeing him flourish tonight, it was that Richie…he deserved more. More than their little arrangement allowed. And Eddie would be damned if he held him back from that for his own selfish reasons.
Another silence followed his words. He had to turn around sometime. He knew that.
He managed to delay it just a little longer by walking over to the sink and turning on the faucet, resting his palms on the counter, hunching his shoulders, making no move to fill his glass. The rush of water almost drowned out Richie’s quiet reply, barely above a whisper.
“Do you wanna stop, Eddie?”
Hell no.
It had all begun three months earlier when Richie accidentally walked in on Eddie ‘punchin’ the upside down clown,’ as Richie so fondly called it. Their eyes had locked, Richie frozen in shock, Eddie in embarrassment. Richie could have hightailed it outta there, they could have brushed it off, marked it down as one of the hazards of being roommates and maybe, after a time, even laughed about it. Instead, Eddie had choked out Richie’s name, his cock still gripped in hand, so impossibly hard as Richie’s eyes began to lower.
They had just watched each other, breaths ragged as Eddie’s hand began to move, slowly at first, then gradually speeding up, pumping his cock hard, over and over and over, a surge of confidence flowing in him that was fuelled by Richie’s eyes drinking in his every move, until his orgasm started to rake through him, causing him to cry out and begin to come all over his stomach.
That had lit a fire under Richie, he scrambling over to the bed and dropping to his knees, his giant hand covering Eddie’s, squeezing and moving in time with his jerks.
“Shit, fuck—Richie,” Eddie gasped, his voice broken as they pulled the last of orgasm from him together.
“Eds—I—can I…?”
Eddie had nodded, happy to grant him anything, whatever he could possibly want in that moment.
Turned out, what Richie had wanted was his mouth around Eddie’s dick.
Wildly, all Eddie could think as Richie’s head lowered to his lap was how Dick wants my dick.
He almost passed out when the wet heat enveloped him, hissing a little as his over-sensitive nerves tingled.
“R-Richie, oh my god,” he wheezed, his hand reaching up and clawing at his hair, pulling it tightly through his fingers.
Richie groaned, the vibration heading straight to Eddie’s cock and causing his back to arch off the bed.
It was then that Eddie realised three things.
One, the hand currently buried in Richie’s hair was covered in Eddie’s come, it smeared into his locks in a way that should have had Eddie recoiling in disgust, but instead sent a bolt of arousal through him, despite his exhaustion. Two, Richie’s mouth was ridiculously talented—the type of talented that could get a 41 year old man’s refractory period shaved significantly down—holy shit. Eddie may never call him a Trashmouth ever again after this. And three, Richie was rock hard. His erection pressing into Eddie’s side from where he kneeled along the bed.
At that revelation, Eddie’s free hand had wandered almost unbeknownst to himself, out to cup Richie through his pants, causing him to jump in surprise, his mouth pulling off Eddie’s dick with a pop that had him shivering.
They stared at one another, Eddie marvelling at Richie’s plump, crimson-stained lips that had a bead of Eddie’s come gathered in the crease of his mouth.
A beat passed where their eyes met, they on a knife-edge, the precipice of something unknown.
Then Eddie squeezed his hand a little tighter, causing Richie’s breath to hitch.
And the rest…was history.
It became a regular thing, then. Just them…tending to each other whenever they needed it. Quick hand jobs before Richie had to meet with an exec, sloppy blowjobs to celebrate Eddie’s promotion and Richie’s Netflix deal and one very memorable rim-job on the eve of Eddie’s one year ‘death-day.’
They hadn’t talked about it much. But they had unwritten rules.
One — don’t talk about Fight Club. AKA The Arrangement.™ So no spilling the beans to any of the Losers.
Two — don’t talk about Fight Club. Seriously. If the Losers found out they would be un-fucking-bearable and put a screeching halt to the most (and best) sex either of them had had in years. (Maybe ever.)
Three — no kissing. Eddie had deemed that a step over the line. Which, Richie had easily countered with, “Oh, so you can have my tongue in your ass, but not your mouth? Some logic ya got there, Eds.” But Eddie wouldn’t budge. So Pretty Woman rules it was.
And Four — no fourth base, going all the way, the whole enchilada, whatever you wanna call it.
They both agreed that that would definitely be over the line.
And so, with those firm set of rules alá Fight Club and Pretty Woman in play, Eddie and Richie made it work, it somehow slotting almost seamlessly into their daily lives, their friendship and cohabitation hardly changing at all.
Until Eddie’s green-eyed monster reared its ugly head, of course.
Except…that isn’t exactly true, is it? You were compromised from the start, asswipe.
Eddie ignored his inner-voice that sounded irritatingly like a thirteen-year-old Trashmouth as he shoved his glass under the water, letting it fill.
“That Eric guy seemed pretty into you,” he murmured, pivoting from the question as he shut off the faucet, “it would probably be a good idea to uh…call off The Arrangement if you wanted to call that number on your hand.”
He turned, then. Just in time to see Richie blink in surprise.
Yeah. Eddie had seen the exact moment the hot, young blond had reached across and playfully tugged on Richie’s hand, scrawling something onto the palm of it. It didn’t take a genius to know what.
“Eric’s a kid,” Richie snorted as Eddie’s eyes finally met his.
“He’s 29.”
“Exactly. He’s a millennial.”
“Your new fan base is made up of mostly millennials, Richie. And Gen Z’ers,” Eddie rolled his eyes, crossing the kitchen and realising in his haste that he had left his water but was too stubborn to turn back, trudging on towards the living room.
Only to have his way blocked by the garish, tuxedo T-shirt that Richie had insisted on wearing to his press junket despite Beverly desperately pleading with him no to. In compromise, she had designed him a very sexy faux-leather jacket that highlighted the breadth of his shoulders very nicely.
Not that Eddie noticed, or anything.
Liar liar pants on—
He slowly raised his gaze, eyebrows furrowing as he saw an enigmatic expression cross Richie’s face.
“That Ron guy seemed pretty into you.”
Eddie frowned.
“You mean Ross?”
“Whatever,” Richie waved a hand dismissively, his eyes bouncing around the room, “he was flirting up a storm with you at the bar.”
Eddie snorted, “Ross was just being friendly, Richie. He saw that I was on my own when you were—”
“He was flirting with you, Eddie. He couldn’t have been more obvious than if he shoved a rose between his teeth and asked you to tango.”
Eddie’s lips, the traitors, twitched at that. He cleared his throat.
“I’m pretty sure I know when someone is flirting with me, Richie.”
“Really?” Richie scoffed, the pitch of his voice climbing as he threw up his hands in exasperation, “see, I don’t think you do, Eds. Fuck, I’ve been flirting with you since 1986 and look where—”
He cut himself off abruptly, but it was too late.
Eddie watched as Richie froze, his eyes as wide as saucers behind his glasses.
His heart began to race.
“You…what? Rich—”
“Nothing, forget it,” Richie held up his hands in surrender and that’s when Eddie caught it.
The remnants of a dark smudge.
Eric’s phone number.
Or what used to be his number anyway.
Eddie’s own hands shot out before he knew what was happening, both grasping the larger hand and tugging it closer.
“Did you rub it off?”
He kept his eyes carefully trained on Richie’s palm as he heard his breath hitch.
“…maybe.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t wanna get ink poisoning—why the fuck do you think, Eddie?”
His grip tightened around Richie’s fingers as his eyes slowly lifted.
They stared at one another, the silence ringing loud in the kitchen.
“I…” Eddie floundered, desperately wracking his brain for some words to form a coherent sentence.
Don’t get your hopes up, Kaspbrak. You know how that always ends.
Richie must have taken his hesitance for a dismissal however as he heaved a heavy sigh and began pulling out of his grasp.
“Forget it, Eds, I’m tired and a little tipsy. I’m just gonna go to—”
“I was jealous.”
Richie stilled, his eyes darting back to Eddie’s, his hand still firmly in his grip.
“You were?”
Eddie heart hammered against his rib cage so hard he felt it might burst out of his chest Alien-style any second now.
What the fuck are you doing, dickwad?! This is not a part of The Arrange—
“Yeah, Richie, I was. Am. Jealous,” he swallowed the lump in his throat, squeezing Richie’s hand tight as he forced himself to continue. “I—that guy was hot and young and I’m not and—”
Richie closed the space between them, crowding Eddie back against the kitchen counter, bending his knees to catch Eddie’s eye.
“Eddie, trust me when I say this, man. You were the hottest person in that entire bar tonight.”
Eddie let out a loud snort, refusing to meet his eye.
“Yeah righ—”
Fingers clasped his scared cheek, forcing his head up.
His breath stuttered at the sheer sincerity in Richie’s eyes.
“I’m serious, Eds. I could barely take my eyes off you all night. I—all I kept thinking about was getting you home and…” he trailed off, his hand breaking from Eddie’s face to drag down his neck, chest, stomach, to finally rest, feather-light on his belt.
A bolt of arousal shot through Eddie’s abdomen.
Along with his mouth, Richie had very, very talented hands too.
But they were getting off track.
Shaking his head, Eddie forced his foggy, horny brain back online, stepping around Richie and trying to catch his breath. This was important, he couldn’t get sidelined with the promise of sex. He had known that this was a long time coming, pretty much ever since they started in the first place.
All good things must come to an end. Literally and figuratively…
“We need to call it off, Richie.”
He watched as Richie’s shoulders sagged, his entire body deflating like a balloon as he drained the last of his beer and shuffled across to the recycling, avoiding Eddie’s eye the entire way.
“Okay, Eds. If that’s what you want. Consider Fight Club disbanded.”
There was that almost robotic voice again. Completely void of emotion. So very hard to read.
“It’s…it’s not what I want,” Eddie found himself admitting before he could think better of it, “but it’s what you need, Rich. What you deserve.”
Richie whirled around suddenly, brow furrowed, eyes shining bright.
“What I deserve ? The fuck does that mean?”
Eddie sighed, not wanting to have to explain himself further but knowing he had to. Shrugging, he ran a hand through his hair, forcing himself to maintain eye-contact.
“You just…you deserve more than my dry hand-jobs and amateur blow-jobs, man. I—I know when we started this it was a way for us to blow off some steam but…you’re out and proud and deserve so much more than our arrangement. So much more than what I…”
He trailed off, eyes lowering.
“I just want what’s best for you, Rich.”
And it’s not me.
“Did it ever occur to you that I might already have what’s best for me?”
Richie didn’t sound robotic, anymore. Now he sounded downright incredulous.
“Uh—”
“No, ‘course it didn’t,” he continued, stepping closer, ducking his head to catch Eddie’s eye, “‘cause instead of asking me, you just went ahead and decided you knew what was best for me. But you’re wrong, Eds. So fucking wrong I—I don’t even know where to begin explain—”
He cut himself off, tilting his head to the ceiling as if asking the heavens for help. Which, for Richie, was really saying something.
Shit.
“Why were you jealous, Eds?”
Richie’s voice was small, now. Resigned. As if fearful of his answer.
“Was it—was it that a hot, young blond was flirting with me and not you?” he asked, tilting his head back down from the ceiling and staring straight into his eyes, laser-focussed.
“Or was it that I was flirting with a hot, young blond and not you?”
Eddie’s heart leapt into his throat.
“I thought you weren’t flirting?” he gasped out, biting his bottom lip.
Richie let out an awful, humourless laugh, his eyes shining in a way that had Eddie’s stomach twisting painfully.
“Okay. Okay, Eddie,” he held up his hands again, taking several steps backwards, out towards the living room, “I hear you loud and clear. Say no more,” he paused, sounding more resigned than Eddie had ever heard him, lifting his shoulder in a one-armed shrug, “‘S like you said. We’re just best friends who get each other off. That can change whenever you want. I get it. Good night.”
Eddie watched as he turned on his heel and began walking out of the room.
“I was jealous that he was flirting with you and laughing with you and…fucking touching you when that was all I wanted to do!”
Richie stopped dead in his tracks.
Eddie scrambled forward, his mouth running away from him, “I was so fucking pissed that some hot fucking himbo got to drape himself all over you, without a care in the world as if you were free and single because—”
The rest of his sentence lodged in his throat.
He swallowed, taking a deep breath, staring at the hard line of Richie’s shoulders, his heart samba drumming in his chest.
Well, you’ve come this far, Kaspbrak.
“Because I…I want you. All the time. Not—not just since The Arrangement. Since…shit, since I was a kid. And these last few months have given me just a taste of what life would be like if I could…if I could have you. And I…I hate that it’s just made me realise that I want more. Not just hand jobs and blow jobs here and there. I wanna…I wanna flirt with you in public, and flaunt you on my arm and…and fucking kiss you goodnight and good morning and just because I feel like it. I wanna sleep next to you and fuck you and get a fucking dog with you. I want all of it. All of you.”
A horrible, heavy silence followed his words, marred only by Eddie’s gasping breath as he fought to catch it. His heart sank lower and lower with each passing beat. He couldn’t ever remember a time that Richie had gone this long without making some kind of noise, so he did what any good risk analyst would do. He started mentally making contingency plans for how he could salvage their friendship.
I’ll move out immediately. Leave the group chat for a while. It’ll be awkward, but eventually we might be able to—
“Himbo?”
Eddie gaped as Richie finally turned around, staring wide at him, a small but definite smile on his face.
“W-What?”
Richie’s smile grew bigger.
“You called Eric a himbo. I didn’t think you kept up with today’s slang, Eds,” he tilted his head, apparently amused as he started to close the distance between them.
“Really?” Eddie groused, staring at him, “that’s your response to everything I just said? What the fuck, Rich—”
Lips crashed into his, a large hand clutching his cheek and another squeezing his hip, propelling him backwards, colliding them both into the kitchen counter. Eddie let out a rough ‘Oomph!’ but there was no way in hell he was breaking this kiss. Whose dumb idea was it to enforce Pretty Woman rules anyway? To withhold oneself from a mouth as talented as Richie’s? That was just fucking martyrdom.
The kiss was feverish, desperate as they clung to one another, knocking over various knick-knacks that Richie insisted on keeping on the kitchen counters, Eddie’s tongue tracing along Richie’s bottom lip, his teeth nipping just slightly. He sighed as Richie groaned, opening his mouth and deepening the kiss, his hands raking up and down Eddie’s body as if he couldn’t decide where to rest them. Eddie buried his own hands in Richie’s hair, clutching tightly, using the leverage to do a little pushing of his own, shoving him back against the kitchen table.
Richie let himself be manhandled, stumbling backwards, almost tripping over his own feet if Eddie didn’t have a firm grip on him. The back of his legs bumped up against the table with a soft thump. Eddie’s grip left Richie’s hair to fly to his waist, tightening as he urged him up. Richie took a second to get with the program, too preoccupied with sucking on Eddie’s tongue to do much else. But eventually, he scattered the place-mats and newspaper and stress-ball from off the table and he heaved himself up, arms reaching down to clasp the back of Eddie’s legs, lifting him up with him until he was kneeling, knees either side of his hips.
The kiss broke.
Their eyes met.
Eddie’s heart skipped a beat when he saw moisture gathered behind Richie’s glasses as he stared at Eddie like he was the greatest gift he’d ever received.
“I’m in love with you, by the way,” Richie murmured, quietly but firmly, as if they were words he had long since lived with, “have been since I was twelve years old. In case that wasn’t clear.”
A little line formed between his eyebrows as he cleared his throat, “It’s—it’s okay, though. You don’t have to say it back or anything, I know it’s a lot and—”
“I’m in love with you too, dickwad. In case that wasn’t clear.”
They stared at one another, twin smiles gracing their faces before Richie leaned forward, capturing his lips once more.
This kiss was softer, slower, but god…
Eddie could feel thirty years of emotion flowing between them, as if Richie was pouring every ounce of pining, yearning, ache and love that he had ever felt for Eddie into it.
The burn of tears welled up behind his eyes as Richie’s hands clasped his cheeks, his thumb gently tracing his scar. They eventually had to break for air, but didn’t go far, their lips barely an inch apart as they heaved in breaths, until Eddie leaned forward again, pecking the tiniest of kisses against Richie’s mouth.
Fuck Fight Club and Pretty Woman rules.
Richie leaned up, returning the kiss that was more the pressing of smiles but still had Eddie’s stomach flipping with butterflies.
“God, Eds. I’ve wanted to kiss you practically my whole life.”
Eddie hummed, raking a hand through his hair and straightening his slightly askew glasses.
“I’m sorry I made you wait so long,” he sighed, resting their foreheads together, “I just…I just knew that kissing you would be too much. Would make me wish too much and hope too much and—”
“Me too,” Richie nodded, bumping their heads gently, practically going cross-eyed as he fought to keep eye contact, “you were right. I wouldn’t have coped with kissing you without constantly wanting more and hating myself for it. Even though I did anyway. Always have,” he laughed a little self-deprecatingly, “but ya know, I’m used to that.”
Eddie’s heart panged.
“Fucking Derry.”
“Fucking Derry,” Richie agreed.
“Dumb Eddie.”
“No,” Richie shook his head, leaning back to properly look at Eddie, “not dumb at all, Eds. We—that shithole fucked both of us up, right? All seven of us. So, don’t feel dumb about not picking up on my giant heartboner for you back in the day, alright? I…I did everything in my power to hide it ‘cause I was scared shitless. Homophobic clowns and Bowers, you know? And now…now we’re so fucking repressed I still marvel we managed to con ourselves into The Arrangement in the first place.”
Eddie snorted, silently agreeing until that snort turned into a groan, this one of discomfort as his knees gave a painful twinge.
“We’re too old to fool around on the kitchen table, Rich…” he breathed, his breath bouncing off Richie’s mouth, “my knees are fucking killing me.”
Richie huffed out a laugh, squeezing his hips and nudging him back down to the ground and shuffling to stand up himself.
“Fuck!” He hissed as his thigh roughly collided with the leg of one of the chairs, knocking it over with a clatter.
“As graceful as ever, Rich,” Eddie teased, reaching down to gently rub his palm along the back of Richie’s thigh, a small smirk spreading across his face.
“If you take me to bed, I can kiss it better. And other places too.”
Richie Tozier had never moved so fast in his entire life. And that included the time he was chased by a murderous space clown.
They collectively collided with no less than four pieces of furniture, one novelty-sized pencil that Richie insisted on keeping in the hallway, and tripped over a copy of Bill’s new book before they made it to bed. But that just meant there was more to kiss better.
They were allowed to do that, now. Kiss and so much more.
And all because they stopped living their lives using the ‘logic’ of two dumb ‘90s movies.
Read my other friends-with-benefits Reddie fic here
@tinyarmedtrex @reddiegays @richietoaster @and-thats-when-she-snapped
Fem!Reddie out for a red carpet event.
Sometimes your comedian girlfriend doesn’t quite get ready for bed in time before she passes out.
(Have a queue of fem!reddie now I love it)
Perma Tag: @finelinedwalls @braverthanyathink
i love this
REBLOG THIS IF UR STILL ACTIVE IN THE IT/REDDIE FANDOM SO I CAN FOLLOW U
Can you rec some of your favorite it fics? Reddie and other pairings too?
i sure can! i have so many SO MANY. here are 15 of my many faves with some recs for other works by these authors sprinkled in!!!!!
i can be your hero by @richietoizer| Reddie | T | 2,205 |an accidental confession fic where eddie finds a college essay richie wrote about him. IT’S CUTE Y’ALL this fic is seriously so slept on. all of ashley’s fics are amazing and literally *chef’s fucking kiss* of course she has her amazing AMTS and SCL fics that everyone should read but this one is just so cute!!! ashley is an amazing writer and i would read anything she contributes to the fandom. she has various WIPs that are amazing as well and that i would HIGHLY recommend you read like the real world and took too many hits off this memory. i love ashley with all my heart and will always be one of her biggest fans but i swear to god, putting my love for her aside, she has a fucking gift for writing. everything she writes is pure fucking gold!
Help Me Remember by @jem-carstairs-is-perfection| Reddie | T | 3,138 |jem carstairs is perfection? more like monse’s writing is perfection! i had a really hard time choosing just one fic of hers because they’re all SO GOOD. she’s literally my fave writer and i love her so much. she’s amazing at prompt fills too! ugh i cannot stop saying good things about mochi she’s just That. Good. in this one, richie gets drunk and makes out with someone and can’t remember who it is the next day so he tries to find out who it is. i highly recommend reading anything by monse because she is a very talented writer. she’s literally a fluff queen but she also knows how to break your heart…but she’ll always put it back together in the end!
Tandem by @s-s-georgie | Steddie | T | 4,413 |“Everyone finds their soulmate… eventually.” a steddie soulmate au…THE fic that got me hooked on steddie in the first place. just like monse, leigh knows how to break your heart…but she’s also amazing at writing the softest and most tender fic. i ALWAYS rec tender and she’s sick of it. (go read that reddie fic i promise you’ll love it) and if bottom richie is your thing, leigh writes some of the best bottom richie fic as well so i would totally read her fics if i was you :’)
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Perfect Summer Day
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2UuaVoY
by FennecFoundaPencil, Windex_Noises
The Losers spend an afternoon in their clubhouse. Eddie and Richie fight over the hammock, Stan questions his choice of friends, Beverly smokes while Ben pines, Eddie kisses Richie… Yup, a completely normal afternoon in their clubhouse.
Words: 2439, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Fandoms: IT - Stephen King, IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: M/M
Characters: Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak, Bill Denbrough, Ben Hanscom, Beverly Marsh, Stanley Uris, Mike Hanlon
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Additional Tags: its summer, its soft, lets go, The Hammock (IT), Fluff, Boys Being Boys, guys being dudes, your fave coauthors are at it again, if we’re not your faves, well. rude, First Kiss, a lil angst, but like. blink and youll miss it
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2UuaVoY
The first thing Eddie saw were hands, large and spread across his desk. He knew those hands. He knew their knuckle-white scars, knew the growing tremor of their touch. He had known them in death—they had dragged him back out.
He followed them, up from the long fingers splayed over his spreadsheets to the quarter-sleeved forearms, to the jutted-out elbows, up until he faced the misfortune of blue eyes, magnified behind dated, square-rimmed glasses. He knew those well, too.
“Got time for a lunch break?”
Eddie sat back in his seat. “Richie,” he said, breathless tone caught somewhere between exasperation and surprise. “What are you doing here?”
Richie took his hands off the desk and grinned, kicking a lonesome chair over and sitting down across from Eddie.
“The receptionist, what’s-his-name, uh—Ted?—let me in.” He shrugged.
Eddie blinked. “I meant, what are you doing in New York?”
Richie, as far as Eddie knew, still had his apartment back in L.A., which was worlds away from Eddie’s own place here, in New York. 2,984 miles away, to be exact. Not that Eddie ever checked.
“What, a guy can’t take a 5am flight out to have lunch with an old friend?” Richie asked.
“He shouldn’t,” Eddie answered, still trying to decide if he was happy Richie was here or not. It’d been six months since he’d last seen him, which felt like too long and not long enough all at once. They’d left off in a weird place, but Richie had been kind enough not bring it up.
Richie scrunched his face up and waved him off. “Whatever. I made sandwiches.”
He reached over to the corner of the desk where he’d set a brown paper bag Eddie hadn’t noticed before. Eddie eyed it warily as Richie pulled out two zip-loc sealed sandwiches made old-school with white, lunch-box bread.
“Sandwiches?” He asked. “Rich, I haven’t had a sandwich since—”
“5th grade? I remember,” Richie said, handing Eddie one of the bags. “Ham and cheese, right?”
Eddie took the offered sandwich slowly, nodding. 5th grade had been the year Belch Huggins had decided to take Eddie’s packed lunch every morning on his walk to class. So worried he’d be pulled out of school and forced to learn at home, Eddie never told his mother, and reluctantly let Ben’s mom start packing an extra sandwich for him every day for the rest of the year.
Eddie shook the bittersweet memory from his head and looked over at Richie, who’d already had half his sandwich in hand, biting into it. He grimaced.
“Is that…peanut butter and cheese?”
5th grade had also been the year Richie experimented with weird sandwich combinations to gross out his parents. Most of them went uneaten, but the peanut butter and cheese had stuck around for quite a while.
“Of course,” Richie said around a particularly large bite. “Wanna go half and half?”
Eddie really didn’t, but he was already feeling nostalgic, so he took the other half of Richie’s sandwich offered to him and gave Richie half of his own. He didn’t miss the way Richie’s hand was shaking when he took it.
They ate in silence for a while, Eddie trying to at least glance over some of the work he’d been doing before, but feeling too itchy and distracted by the man in the room with him and eventually giving up.
“So,” Eddie broke the silence after about five minutes, when his food was mostly gone and he felt his stomach had settled a little bit. “Why are you here?”
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** FLASH WARNING ** I’ve been working on this fanimatic after work or on lunch breaks for like five months HAHA. I love Clown Movie. RIP, E.
Music Credit: “Can’t Help Falling In Love With You” Elvis Presley Cover feat. brook / / Produced by Tomme Profitt
this is so beautiful 😍
Sometimes after killing a clown you have to switch shirts and chill in the morning.
Perma tag: @finelinedwalls @braverthanyathink
reddie 38?
38. “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” - feat. figure skater Eddie and ice hockey player Richie.
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As the music poured through the speakers, Eddie focused on his movements as he skated across the ice, twirling and jumping when the routine called for it. Ever since he was little, being on the ice had been his dream. He had grown up watching the skaters on the TV, begging his mother and father to enrol him in classes, which they eventually did. Now, sixteen years later he was twenty one and heading straight for the Olympics.
That is, if he could master the damn double axel jump.
It wasn’t that he couldn;t do the jump, because he could just fine. It was the landing that he was having difficulty with, with every attempt it was a stumble or an ungraceful landing, which was beginning to annoy the hell out of his mother. She wasn’t even his coach, but because she was the one paying for his lessons and rink time, she believed her opinion overruled everyone else’s, even his coach’s.
“Edward, for goodness sake, I’m not paying for you skate like a hippopotamus! I pay for you to skate like a swan, glide across the ice, land as though it’s no effort at all! You’ll never qualify for the Olympics skating like that!” His mother screamed through the auditorium and Eddie came to a halt on the side of the rink, breathing heavily.
He looked up at his mother, who was red in the face next to his horrified coach. Normally, his mother kept her more…insulting comments to when it was just him and her in the rink, but sometimes she couldn’t help herself. His coach, Maggie Tozier, whipped her head around to face Sonia, a scowl on her face. “Mrs Kasprak, if you are going to treat my skater like that I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
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let’s talk about sex
I - Sexy
summary:
“My boyfriend won’t have sex with me.”
Eddie Kasprak is a twenty-two year old studying to be a doctor. He is also struggling to be intimate with his three year long boyfriend, Graeme. Enter in Dr Maggie Tozier, a very successful sex therapist who takes on Eddie as a client. Then he meets her son. Richie, who unlocks a lot of feelings Eddie hasn’t felt in a long time. You know where this is going….
words: 3,002
rating: e (explicit)
a/n: a new chaptered fic that I have been working on! Please enjoy! (It’s gonna feature quite a bit of notsfw)
*click on chapter title to read on AO3
* * * * *
Eddie raised his fist and knocked on the door to Dr Tozier’s house, settling back on his heels as he looked around the porch. After much deliberation, Eddie had finally sucked up the courage to make an appointment with Maggie, hoping that she would be able to help him, or at least give him some much needed advice on his problem.
Before he could talk himself out of it, the door swung open and a smiling woman with dark brown hair answered the door, “Hello there, you must be Eddie? Do you want to come in?” She asked and Eddie swallowed before nodding his head, stepping into the house. “I know it’s a little unorthodox, working from home, but I feel it’s much more comfortable for a lot of my clients than an office would be. More private. Would you like something to drink?”
Until Maggie had spoken, Eddie hadn’t realised how dry his mouth was, so he nodded his head. Maggie smiled and disappeared for a moment, before returning with a glass of water. “T-Thanks, sorry I’ve never…never done something like this before.”
“Don’t apologise, it’s nerve wracking for someone who reaches out for the first time. It’s a sensitive and private conversation we are about to have, but I want to assure you that anything we discuss in our session is completely confidential. Four walls of trust, okay?” Eddie nodded his head and Maggie flashed him another warm smile before opening the door into what he assumed was her home office. “Shall we?”
They stepped inside and Eddie took a seat on the sofa across from Maggie. He licked his lips and took a sip of the water before placing it on the placemat on the table. There was a bit of an awkward silence, as he had absolutely no idea where to start. Was he meant to just go right in and start talking about it, or was Maggie meant to give him something to go off of? Finally, the silence became too overwhelming and Eddie just blurted it out.
“My boyfriend won’t have sex with me.”
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livin that married life
i love them
58. “I’ve been in love with you my entire life. Ever since the day I first met you.” :D
Oooh, thank you so much for this prompt! This takes place post-Ch. 2, they’ve defeated Pennywise and Eddie didn’t die or even get attacked. Enjoy! ^_^
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Richie can’t stop himself from thinking about it; the crippling terror he’d experienced under the clown’s hypnotic spell as he helplessly watched Eddie get impaled above him, unable to do anything but watch, scream, and listen to the deafening cries inside his own head of NO, NO, GOD NO, NOT EDDIE, TAKE ME INSTEAD, PLEASE….
It’s not real. None of it was real. He knows this from the moment he awakens from the Deadlights, dazed and disoriented as Eddie looks down at him and exclaims that he’s done it, he’s killed It, and Richie gets that surge of energy and strength he’s always heard about mothers getting when their child is in danger. It’s enough to propel him to grab onto Eddie and roll both of them out of the way just in time to miss the clown’s vengeful claws. The six of them make it out, fleeing from the house of horrors one after the other, grabbing onto each other in relief and shock as they watch Neibolt crumble into the ground and become nothing more than a bad memory.
And he can’t stop thinking about it. While they walk the quiet streets of Derry in the early dawn. When they reach the quarry, which is now sporting a large sign warning against the diving they’d engaged in so many times as children without a second thought. When they blatantly ignore the sign and dive in anyway, with Eddie grabbing onto his hand before they take the plunge. While they’re swimming around in the opaque water and Eddie is playfully splashing some of it in his direction, the smile on his face more beautiful than all the stars in the sky combined. Especially then.
What would I have done? He thinks to himself as he laughs and splashes him back. If the clown had gotten him and he was gone, what the fuck would I have done?
He’s still thinking about it later that night, as he’s standing in the shower of his rented room at the Derry Townhouse, letting the hot water run over his body and cleanse him once and for all of the scourge of Pennywise and all the misery It had wrought over him and his friends for their entire lives. He’s letting his mind wander, turning over long buried memories that have been barreling at him full force ever since he stepped foot inside Jade of the Orient and saw Eddie for the first time in twenty-seven years, but which he hasn’t allowed himself to fully process until now. Now that he has nothing else to do but think.
He thinks about that summer, of quarries and clubhouses and lazy afternoons spent in a hammock; he thinks about movies and videogames and ice cream; of days spent riding bikes through the streets of town and of hot, still nights reading comics together on Eddie’s bed while trying not to wake up Mrs. Kaspbrak.
He thinks back further, to school trips to the apple orchard, where he and Eddie would pool their pocket money together to share a turnover that Richie would always make sure to take the smaller half of. He thinks of chilly winters; of snowy days spent building snowmen in Richie’s front yard before going inside for piping hot mugs of hot chocolate.
And he thinks back even further still, to the first day of kindergarten, when he was a tiny, nervous ball of anxiety who started crying the minute his mother left, until a brown haired boy with wide eyes as dark as his hair came up to him, smiled, and offered him some dried peaches from a small bag he took from the black fanny pack around his waist.
Fuck, he thinks, the long forgotten truth hitting him as his mind lingers on the R+E he’d carved into the kissing bridge on that long ago summer day. You’ve gotten yourself into a fucking emotional mess now, Rich. You dumb fucking asshole. You shouldn’t have come back here. None of you should have. Forgetting was better, it was always fucking better.
He heaves a sigh and turns the water off, shivering as he steps out of the shower and towels himself off. He’s just finishing putting on fresh clothes when he hears a knock on his door. It’s probably Mike wanting us all to go to brunch or some shit.
He crosses the room and opens the door. It’s not Mike.
“Can I come in?” Eddie asks, even as he’s squeezing past Richie and entering the room anyway.
“Well, since you so politely asked for my permission,” Richie quips, watching Eddie sit on the edge of his bed. He’s also changed his clothes; he’s wearing plaid pajama pants and a plain black sweatshirt that says Tri-State Insurance across the front. It’s a very basic outfit that shouldn’t be and truly isn’t anything special, yet somehow on Eddie it manages to make Richie’s heart thump ever so slightly harder.
Get a fucking grip on yourself.
“To what do I owe this most honorable visit?” Richie asks as he leans against the wall and tries to look like he hasn’t just spent the past half hour reliving every single moment of pining he’s repressed for years.
Eddie looks suddenly uncomfortable, like he’s unsure now of why he’s there. “I… I wanted to talk to you. If you have a minute.”
“Just a minute, I have a hot date with your mom I’m gonna be late for.”
“You do realize my mom is dead, right, asshole?”
Richie swallows down the next joke he was about to make. He actually hadn’t remembered that in all the chaos. “Sorry,” he murmurs, his eyes meeting Eddie’s for the first time since the other man burst into his room. Eddie gazes back at him for the briefest of moments before he closes his eyes and sighs.
“Just… look, this isn’t gonna be easy for me to say,” he begins, opening his eyes back up and focusing them on a vague spot on the wall somewhere to the left of Richie. “But it’s going to bug the shit out of me until I say it, so I’m just going to bite the bullet and fucking go for it, and you don’t even have to respond, I just want to get it off my chest.”
Richie’s stomach drops, and he starts to wonder if he’s done something to piss Eddie off since they’ve reunited. Like, unintentionally. The basis of their entire friendship has always been him playfully trying to get Eddie mad, but Eddie has never really been angry at him. He doesn’t think they’ve ever even had a real fight. But there’s always that seed of doubt, and Richie quickly goes back over every interaction they’ve had in the past couple of days. Did he get mad about me making fun of his job? Maybe I made too many mom jokes, I honestly forgot she’s dead. Ok, maybe I shouldn’t have made those comments about his wife, but come on, he told me himself that their marriage is on the rocks and he’s been emotionally divorced for a long time, so how mad could he possibly-
“Earth to Trashmouth, are you listening to me?”
Fuck. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry. What’s on your mind?” Richie asks, clearing his throat and trying to do the same to his mind as he focuses back on Eddie, who takes a deep breath and begins speaking.
“Richie… back there, in the sewers, when… when the fucking clown had you in those Deadlights, I knew I had to do something to save you, cause no shit, right, you’re one of my best friends, so of course I did, but… but for some reason I also kind of felt like… like you being attacked by Pennywise was a personal attack on me? Sort of? Like… fuck… all I could think of was how I froze up when that spider fuck was attacking you, and how I had to make up for that, but also how… Ugh… I don’t know how to phrase this,” Eddie whines, rubbing a hand over his face as he focuses his eyes back on the wall, avoiding eye contact with Richie.
“It’s like… if it was any of the others up there, of course I would also try to help them if I could, but it wouldn’t…. it wouldn’t feel like so much of a personal thing, if that makes sense? The clown getting you, specifically, just really pissed me off. And when you dropped down I was so worried about you, like, were you ok? Were you hurt? I thought back to when we were kids, you know, when Bev was in the lights and Ben had to kiss her, and I thought… is that what you needed, too? Was I going to have to do that? But then you woke up and I was relieved, Rich, I was so relieved, but I was also… I don’t know… disappointed. I was actually disappointed that you didn’t need a kiss to wake up, and god, Richie, ever since we got out of that fucking house that’s all I’ve been able to think about. Why it is that I was so, so disappointed.”
Richie’s heart is pounding now, the steady thump of its beat echoing in his ears as all of his blood rushes to his head and makes him feel dizzy. Is Eddie saying what he thinks he’s saying? He can’t be, this isn’t real, it’s a dream, he’s still in the Deadlights and he’s going to wake up any second and they’re still going to be in that godforsaken sewer.
“Richie.”
“What?” Richie barely manages to choke out as Eddie finally makes eye contact with him. Every part of him is bursting to come out and say what he’s been holding back for days, for years, but he’s terrified.
“I don’t know how else to say this, but I… I think…”
“Eddie, I love you.” The words leave his mouth before he can stop them, and the minute they do his stomach flips, waves of nausea threatening to make him let loose right there on the bedroom floor, but somehow, using unimaginable strength he doesn’t even know he has in him, he manages to keep himself just barely under control enough to not completely ruin this moment.
Eddie blinks, his cheeks turning a brilliant shade of crimson. “Say that again?” He says it in a shocked whisper, his eyes wide as saucers as he looks at Richie in disbelief.
“I said I love you,” Richie repeats, finding it easier to say the second time now that the worst is over. He might as well let it all out, there’s no going back now. “I do, I love you so fucking much. I’ve been in love with you my entire life. Ever since the day I first met you. And that’s all that’s been on my mind since I got that fucking phone call from Mike. That’s what went through my head as soon as I saw the number pop up on my phone. You.” He feels his cheeks growing hot from the adrenaline and pure relief of that crushing weight coming off of his chest.
Eddie’s shoulders are heaving with the intensity of the breaths he’s taking as his dark eyes bore into Richie’s. The next thing Richie knows, he’s watching Eddie get up off the bed and cross over to him, stopping close to him but, agonizingly, not even remotely close enough.
“Say it again,” he demands, his eyes flashing.
“I love you.”
“Again.” Eddie is slowly closing the space between them.
“I. Love. You.”
“One more time.” He’s practically pressed up against him now, and Richie is about 80% sure he’s about to actually faint.
“I’m in love with you, you little shit-“
His words are cut off by the gentle press of soft lips against his, and his brain short-circuits and goes completely offline. It’s so much, it’s too much, it’s not enough, it’s Eddie, it’s literally everything Richie has ever dreamed of, it’s the moment he often stayed up for entire nights fantasizing about, it’s what he always assumed he would never experience, and here it was, as real as the press of Eddie’s warm, breathing, very much alive body pinning him against the wall.
Their lips part and they look at each other, breathing heavily. Eddie’s eyes are blown black, his lips are cherry red and his cheeks are scarlet. He’s so close that Richie can actually feel the thumping of the other man’s heart against his chest.
“I love you too, asshole,” says Eddie, smiling before crashing their lips back together.
