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I Could Never Deny you

Stanley Uris x Reader

Word count: 4.3k

Part two of Just Try to Deny Me

Warnings: SFW, literal filth and the most out of character, fem reader, sexual tension, cursing, inconsistent characterization, fluff AND angst if you squint

A/n: the long-awaited part two is something… hope you enjoy :)

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just another player in your drinking games (r.t)

summary based on the song drinking games by silver sphere. she hated how easily richie could act like he didn’t care, she hated how he discarded all his feelings once he was sober again, she hated how she was just another player in his drinking games.

 warnings drinking, swearing

richie tozier was on her bed, buried in her blankets at three in the morning. if it was any other day, this would've made (Y/N)’s heart flutter, but she didn't have time to acknowledge her heart as she had to rush to the boys side every minute, trying to mend his broken heart. 

could it even be called a broken heart? jesus, they dated for what? two months? (Y/N) was positive that she would rather be anywhere else right now. obviously, she would never say this to his face. she couldn't help but feel anger rise in her body. she's been chasing the curly headed boy for literal years now and he settles for ashley-fuckin-martin?

she shuts her eyes for a moment, trying to cool down before having to comfort richie again. in his defence, at least he wasn't throwing a fit anymore, (Y/N) would be in deep shit if he woke her parents up.

(Y/N) stopped listening to what the boy was saying but through the words she managed to string together, most of them being curses, she knew she had to say something. “you know what?” she started, turning to lock eyes with tozier. cutting him off when he was going off about how he did something wrong. 

“fuck ashley, you didn't do shit, you don’t deserve this.” she hissed, “don’t beat yourself up over this. you- you don’t deserve this.” (Y/N) sighed, watching as richie’s tears slowly decreased.

“this sucks, really fucking bad, but you make it alright.” richie smiled softly, speaking in a voice just above a whisper. it was meant to be a friendly thank you, he would've done the same to eds or stanley. thats what (Y/N) told herself, but as he looked up at her, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, she found it hard to think of a smart remark to make like she usually did.

“yeah, don’t worry about it, rich.” (Y/N) laughed, hoping that he wouldn't notice how her heart was beating a million miles a minute. 

fuck, she needed to stop getting attached to every little thing he says.

when (Y/N) offered to do anything to make richie feel better, she didn't think that attending a party was anything close to what he would suggest, this was alright though, she told herself. 

(Y/N) smiled, tozier was right. she watched as he laughed with his friends, red plastic cup in hand, to her, he was literally glowing. like he wasn’t just crying in her arms. why did she chase after him? why did she torture herself like this? every time she looked at him she was reminded of what she couldn't have. why did she waste so much time when she knew he wouldn't be hers?

as people started filling out of the house, (Y/N) had started to sober up. richie hadn't talked to her the whole party - except for their game of beer pong - so she didn't really have a reason to stay, but what else was there to do in derry?

“(Y/N)?” richie slurred, coughing into his sleeve, squinting behind his glasses. (Y/N) beamed as the boy slowly walked up to her. “what’re you still doing here?” he swallowed. 

“i was actually just talking to connor, you know, the one from bio? he said i have pretty eyes.” (Y/N) giggled, eyebrows raised. richie took a second to process what she had just said before contouring his face into one of disgust. “connor? ugh.” richie exclaimed, his tongue sticking out of his mouth as he pretended to gag.

(Y/N) thought it would be easier to just play along, laughing before an awkward silence washed over the both of them. “walk me home?” richie shrugged, “sure.” (Y/N) didn't miss how he carelessly agreed, how if there was a better option, she’d be thrown aside. he didn't care if she got home safe. no, of course he cared, as a friend.

(Y/N) had to slow down her usual fast paced steps to keep up with richie’s slow treading. sure, richie was drunk, but it didn't take a genius to realise that (Y/N) was staring at him. he felt as if she was burning holes into the side of his face. 

it wasn't like she could help it. once every few minutes, she’d find herself imposing all her attention onto richie. how the dim moonlight illuminated his face, how she had to dig her nails into her palms to keep herself from combing her fingers through his soft looking curls.

every time (Y/N) turned to look at richie, she hoped that he would look back at her. he never did. she had to hide her growing frown as the pair approached her house. 

(Y/N) stood on her porch so she was closer to eye level with richie now. she was thankful that he thought she was drunk so that she didn’t have to hide her blush like she usually did. 

“thanks again for tonight, (Y/N/N),” richie smiled, hiccuping. “and yesterday.” he mumbled. “it’s cool, just don’t almost punch my wall down again next time you come over.” she joked. 

the two continued to stare at each other for a while, richie, probably drunk out of his mind and not knowing what was going on–– but (Y/N)’s gaze was out of pure admiration. love.

when would be a better time to do this? kiss the boy, (Y/N)! the worse thing that could happen is he doesn't remember it. this is it, this is the only chance you’re gonna get. 

(Y/N)’s thoughts ran wild so to ease them she shut her eyes and leaned in. richie’s eyebrows knotted together and he didn't shut his eyes, when (Y/N) realised that she instantly pulled away. 

“we’re drunk.” he murmurs, very much sober now, trying to blink himself awake.

“yeah, yeah, no, duh.” (Y/N) starts blinking rapidly, tears quickly forming in her eyes.

richie nodded hesitantly, “(Y/N), are you alright?” he frowns, a string of curse words leaving his mouth as tears start running down her face.

“peachy, tozier. really, my parents are gonna kill me if they catch us out here, i’m gonna go.” (Y/N) laughs through the tears.

“once we’re sober, we should just— forget!” (Y/N) hears richie before opening the door to her house. it was probably meant to sound comforting and she lets out a genuine laugh at that.

(Y/N) hadn’t talked to richie in a week, this had been the longest the pair had gone without seeing each other so when her home phone rang she quickly picked up, instantly forgetting about the events that had occurred just a few days ago.

“(Y/N).” richie’s bright voice sounded in her ears.

“rich.” she smiled sadly, fiddling with the phone chord in her fingers.

“look (Y/N/N). i have to make this quick but- about what happened-” he stuttered.

“don’t worry about that, it was a mistake, i was- super drunk.” (Y/N) lied, she heard a sigh of relief.

“thank fuck, (Y/N). i was so scared that it would screw up our friendship.”

(Y/N) smiled, but she thought that if richie focused hard enough, he would be able to hear (Y/N)’s heart breaking through the phone.

“yeah.”

“i care but- it was a mistake.” richie laughed. (Y/N) hummed in response as she shut her eyes. tears flowing down her face now.

“Uh- ashley apologised and, and it was really real you know? it felt sincere and shit.”

(Y/N) lowered the phone from her face before letting out a laugh. she raised the phone back to her face and had to purse her lips so that he wouldn’t hear her sobs. “that’s good, Rich.”

“okay. well, i gotta go but hang soon, alright? and i can’t tell you about how happy i am that we’re still cool. you’re the best, (Y/N/N).”

Insect repellent makes bugs go away (r.t)

summary reader and richie decide to replace patrick hockstetter’s vodka with insect repellent. ( based on this )

warnings bit of drinking, swearing, rushed ending

“Hurry the fuck up.” Richie groaned, repeatedly tapping his foot, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose for the seventh time.

“I’m trying! Class doesn’t end for another twenty minutes will you cool it?” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, pulling her sleeve up. “Alright, so it’s thirty-eight... twenty-four...” she swiftly turned the lock to its respective numbers while she talked.

The two we’re currently in front of Patrick Hockstetter’s locker in the middle of the third period, Patrick’s locker combination (courtesy of Eddie), messily scribbled on (Y/N)’s arm.

“Is that a one or a seven?” (Y/N) asked, holding her arm out to Richie, “Christ, who wrote this? I dunno try both, better yet-” Richie was cut off by the sound of his fist striking against the locker.

“Shit, that usually works with mine.” Richie frowned at the still shut locker. “Oh my god, move.” (Y/N) pleaded as she briefly caught sight of Richie’s digital clock. Did that all take 4 minutes?

(Y/N) grasper the lock a second time and twisted it to seven, unlatching the ugly green colored locker with a satisfying pop.

“Thank you, Eddie.” Richie grinned coolly, immediately going for Patrick’s backpack. “Shit, he was right.” Richie’s eyes were rounding as he pulled out two miniature bottles of vodka Richie recognized from Mr. Keene's store.

“Yeah, he was.” (Y/N) smirked, taking a bottle from Richie.

He, who they were both referring to, was Stan. The boy was closely watching the bowers gang for days after hearing what they had done to Mike, desperately searching for anything he could use against them. “Hey! I’m not stalking them; I’m just people watching.” (Y/N) found it funny nonetheless.

Richie grimaced as (Y/N) unscrewed the bottle and started pouring all its contents into an empty trash can nearby. “Is that really necessary?”

“What, you wanna get wasted now?” (Y/N) teased. “This is necessary, Rich! We have to show them that we are not to be messed with! He killed Mike’s dog, remember?“

Richie grimaced at that. “How could I forget.” He shuts his eyes, trying to shake the image out of his head.

(Y/N) was in the middle of hastily taking the plastic wrapping off of the second one before turning to Richie, “Here,” (Y/N) held out the bottle to him, and he looked at her in a skeptical look. “Fuck off.” He scoffed playfully, smiling widely now. “No, I’m serious!” She laughed. “I mean... you look like you need it.” She said sarcastically.

She was surprised when he took it but chose not to speak against it. Richie warily sniffed the bottle, grimacing at the smell before slowly downing a quarter of it. “Shit, Tozier.” (Y/N) gasped excitedly before taking a sip. “Just don’t tell Bill.” She exclaimed before pouring the rest of it into the bin with the first one.

“Alright, give,”

Richie then dove into his backpack in a rush, searching for the insect repellent they had bought a few days ago. Handing the bottle to (Y/N), she smiled in a silent thanks and twisted the spray nozzle off of the container.

“Shit, we should’ve splurged a bit and get one that actually smells like shit.” (Y/N) complained as she brought the bottle away from her nose, now pouring it into the two small vodka glasses. Richie chuckled from his position leaning against a locker, “Nah, I think he’ll get the message.” He said not meeting her eyes, instead, digging through Patrick’s backpack, snatching the pack of cigarettes out while (Y/N) wasn’t watching, placing one between his lips.

“This is even, right?” (Y/N) held up the two, now filled glasses to show Richie, only getting a shrug in response. “Doesn’t matter.” He took them and carelessly threw them back into Patrick’s backpack.

“So not that I love spending quality time with you, babe.” Richie joker, mumbling around the cigarette.

He zipped the bag back up, holding it by its strap as he put it back in the locker. He plucked the cigarette from his mouth so he could speak. “But tell me again why any of the other losers couldn’t do this?”

“Smooth, Tozier.” (Y/N) plucked a Twizzler out of Patrick’s locker, “Bev and Ben have a test that they can’t miss, Bill has some presentation, Eddie had something too, but I forgot-”

“That’s bull,” Richie rolled his eyes, mumbling something about them being “pussies” before pausing, “wait... are we on a date right now?” Richie turned to (Y/N) accusingly.

“Please,” (Y/N) laughed, reviving an offended smack from the boy. Ignoring him, she stretched dramatically before yawning. “Time?”

“Ten thirty, let’s get outta here.”

(Y/N) nodded. “Shit.” (Y/N) quietly shut Patrick’s locker. Richie’s eyes furrowed at her before turning around.

“What the fuck are you losers doing with my shit?” Patrick Hockstetter, probably kicked out of class for talking back to the teacher, spat, walking towards the pair. “Shit, run!” Richie stuck the cigarette back in his mouth before reaching for  (Y/N)’s hand.

Just before turning, (Y/N) made an impulse decision and kicked the vodka filled trash can, the contents spilling all over the floor. (Y/N) didn’t turn to see Patrick’s reaction as Richie dashed out of the hallway, red converse squeaking as they made contact with the ground.

The two settled to hide behind a car in the school parking lot, deciding to wait until break before actually leaving. “This was kinda fun. We should- we should do it again.” Richie stammered quietly next to her, playing with the unlit cigarette.

(Y/N) stifled a giggle and held her breath to stop herself from calling him cute. “Yeah, Rich, I’ll let you know when Henry pants’ Stan next.”

“You know what I mean.” Richie rolls his eyes, scratching his neck nervously. (Y/N) smiled.

“And by the way,” Richie says, finally turning to face her. “The way you wasted all that vodka? That was kinda hot.”

(Y/N) snickered, shoving Richie lightly. They, for sure, would have to do this again.