Richie Tozier X Yn - Tumblr Posts

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.

just another player in your drinking games (rt)

based on this song

✮ wc : 2k

✮ content : angst, clueless (douche) richie

✮ synopsis : this isn’t the cliche first kiss with richie that she had hoped for. this isn’t the richie she had romanticized in her head.

✮ a/n : this is a rewrite of this! this one is so much better and written completely different. this is so long overdue and so many people have been asking for a part 2 to this but i figured before i write a part 2 i might as well rewrite it because my writings progressed from a year ago. i’m satisfied with this fix being a one and done but if you have ideas of a part 2 lmk.

richie was there first. he sits on one of the extra-wide lawn chairs that’s tucked away in the corner of sally mueller’s yard. richie’s knowledge of the girl was limited to ben describing her as a “stuck-up snob due to her rich family with nice clothes and permed hair.” (so basically a duplicate of greta keene and the other one. richie doesn't remember her name– maybe it’s the buzz he’s starting to get. marie? maria? something like that.)

somewhere from, what richie decided, was the largest backyard he has ever stepped onto, beverly calls. “rich!” he watches her as she trips over herself, trying her best to keep her shaky hands steady, half of the contents in the red solo cups clasped in her hands already spilling onto the floor.

extending her arm, beverly grins from ear to ear. “for you.” she sits at richie’s feet as he breathes an inadequate thank you. cringing at the sticky feeling, he thinks for a moment before opening his mouth, rubbing his palm off on his jeans. “where’s yn?” richie says with none of his usual smartmouth, mumbling around the rim of his drink.

he instantly regrets it. beverly’s been convinced that the boy was in love with her since they were eleven— he’s too drunk to figure out how many years ago that is. he figures bev is too because it completely flys over her head. it’s a shame, normally she would’ve jumped at the chance to pinch his arm, tease him about ashley and yn and ashley and yn and ashley—”

“i was at her house like–” beverly’s eyes dart down to her wristwatch. “thirty minutes ago. we got ready at her place but she wanted to stop by at keenes’ and told me to get a head start.”

“did she forget that you were a lightweight?” richie says amused as beverly yawns. “come on man, you’ve been here, what? two minutes?”

“shut up, stan’s inside, go help him. the chess clubs trying to rope him into their... i dunno... cult?”

after leaving bev with one of her girlfriends he steps into the house, suddenly aware of how flushed his cheeks are. “richie?” finally. he exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in. “ynn.” richie melts.

“why are you here?” there’s concern in her voice, she sounds genuine. “why... wouldn’t i be?”

yn’s confused but it was common for richie to mess about. she goes back and forth before deciding to answer seriously. “yesterday…”

richie visibly deflated. “come on, ynn” he whined, tugging on her sleeve. “are you serious right now. rich, we talked about this you can’t just pretend like–” he threw his head back, hand making it’s way down his red face, “it’s not a big deal. just–” god, he’s a child. yn was friends with a child. “just– let’s do shots.” yn just stared at him open-mouthed, “you want to cheer me up so bad, so be my partner in a round of beer pong.” “this is so unhealthy.”

yn stood awkwardly next to richie, across from them were curtis allen and marcia fadden. that’s the name he was trying to remember. richie tugs on her sleeve as he picks up the red solo cup curtis just landed his ball in, reaching in and delicately handing the light ball to yn before knocking back the contents of the cup. yn languidly tossed the ball, it bounces, and misses. she sighs and turns to richie with a look on her face. are you happy now? marcia drunkenly bends over, clutching her stomach as she searches for the dainty ball.

yn’s so over this— but richie’s mind is somewhere else.

she follows his gaze and eventually lands on ashley martin. yn’s bottom lip juts forward for a second before she bites down on it, hard. ashley’s here alone, she’s in a pretty dress. she’s visibly glowing. yn bites harder on her lip as she feels jealous. she feels like she needs to throw up.

she turns back to richie, he’s mesmerized. who wouldn't be. he snaps out of it when ashley throws him a smile. “hey, you have another turn. i’llberightback–” he doesn't spare yn a glance, and he’s gone.

she’s left wide-eyed and embarrassed, distracted, the same ping pong ball from earlier lands in one of her cups, and marcia squeals. yn reaches for it but is stopped by fingers holding her hand back. “don’t fucking drink that. let’s go.” eddie grimaces and leads her away from the make-shift beer pong table. a “hey!” and a “sore loser!” going into her ear and coming out the other as she follows eddie out the house onto the lawn.

“you have to talk some sense into richie.”

“what? about what?” eddie pulls a face. “i don’t have the energy for this right now. i just walked past richie and ashley talking. don’t know what the last reason they broke up was or even how they resolved it and sure ashley’s great and all but she’s fucking crazy and i can’t handle another meltdown from richie when she breaks up with him for the fucking twelfth time.” it’s silent for a second before eddie speaks again. “that’s why you guys are weird right now, right?”

yn turns her head to the side, thinking before taking a seat on the couch that had been drunkenly pulled onto the lawn by god knows who. “he came in through my window at like three in the morning and looked like he was about to punch a wall down. he didn't say anything though.”

“bingo.” eddie rolls his eyes and falls back onto the couch next to yn. “just try and if he tells you to fuck off you can say i told you so; next time he throws a tantrum. i would do it but i can’t deal with him right now and my mom also needs me home like yesterday. i am so fucking dead and grounded. i can’t drive you and ben to the quarry tomorrow. sorry, hope you still get to do your nerdy watercolor shit.”

yn feels a crease in her eyebrow as she struggles to keep up with what eddie’s rambling on about. “it’s good. i’ll get a ride with stan or something— speak of the devil.”

“no fucking way— after the way you trashed my car last time? i’ll think about it though because i know it was mostly bev and not you.” stan says nonchalantly, he doesn't stop walking to greet yn, his main goal right now to get beverly into the car. “i was super stoned, that doesn't count.” beverly slurs, hand gripped in stanley’s. not in a romantic way but almost a forceful one. “i need to get her home before she starts whatever she was trying to start over there.” stan stops to explain before walking, purpose in his strides, once more.

“gotta go, he’s my ride.” eddie says before jogging to catch up with the pair. a “see you!” and drunken “byyyee!” reverberating around the lawn from her friends.

“talk to rich!” is the last thing eddie booms before they take a turn outside of the lawn and disappear from yn’s eyesight. yn can imagine stan’s low reply of ‘talk to rich about what?’ that would send eddie into a spiral.

it had been about five minutes before a hand was placed on yn’s shoulder. she didn’t believe in god but if he was real he’d be laughing down at her right about now. “hey, sorry i ditched, what’ve you been up to?” it’s richie, he steps over the back of the couch and drops down next to yn. he’s using a twizzler as a straw (something bill showed him) as he sips on the odd purple liquid in his drink.

“not much. you just missed stan, bev and eds, actually.” “oooh— no shit.” richie smirks as he runs his fingers across the brown couch, falling against it with a soft twirl. richie’s hair is in his flushed face as he turns to face her. “how much did you have to drink after beer pong?” yn cross-examined the boy‘s face.

richie puffs his cheeks out before jokingly darting his eyes around. “i’m not sure… about to have a lot more though.” he grins before nodding his head towards something behind the couch with a raised brow. yn straightens her back to look at what her friend was motioning at. she feels her heart drop to her ass as her eyes land on ashley.

she clears her throat before turning back. “you’re back with ashley?“ “oh yeah.” he says lamely, running his tongue across the inside of his cheek. “i can’t believe you.” she sighs, shifting in her seat while she brings her converse clad feet onto the couch— the only thing separating her knees and chest being her crossed arms.

“ynn, don’t be like that.” he weakly drawls out. “rich, what’s wrong with you? you were sobbing cause of her yesterday.” she raises her fingers to her forehead as she smooths out the crease in between her brows. “it wasn’t like that. that was a misunderstanding.”

she needs him to stop thinking with his dick— god, richie needs a good slap in the face. “was it, really? even eddie’s fed up with you and ashley.”

“you and eds are talking shit about my love life?”

“what love life.”

richie scoffs dramatically before letting a laugh slip. “jeez, yn. tell me how you really feel.” drunk richie would never let that comment slide, she thinks. does she need to make the first move? is that it?

god, this is so cliche. now she’s going to lean in and after, he’s going to admit his undying love for her.

“i just care about you a lot— ok?”

“ok.” he smiled clumsily and his eyes glisten. “i care about you too.” the warmth in his cheeks are still prominent but now yn can clearly see the sharp points of his face highlighted by the moonlight. his cheekbones, nose, jawline, and just above his eyebrows all luminous.

she feels a lump form in her throat at that detail. so she waits. waits for the lump to disappear and waits for richie to say something snarky— he doesn’t.

then, she kisses him. richie’s rigid and it’s awkward, and when she pulls away he doesn't look into her eyes. she’s on fire and her breaths are shallow.

africa by toto starts playing through the speakers for the second time that night when she finally decides to speak. “holy shit–” all she can do is swear at herself over and over in her head as she tries to come up with an apology.

this isn’t the cliche first kiss with richie that she had hoped for. this isn’t the richie she had romanticized in her head.

“rich... are you ready to go?” it’s ashley again, purse under her arm and car keys in her hand, she puts the other hand on richie’s shoulder. “um,” he glances at yn before pausing and gets up from his seat next to her. his cheeks are no longer red and his carefree nature is gone. “yeah.” richie’s already stumbling towards ashley’s car and yn’s heart splits.

ashley greets yn with a wave and bright smile before catching up to richie— just like that, she’s left alone for the second time that night.

yn and richie don’t speak again that night, but she receives a call the day after. (in which she apologized for the kiss while he laughed it off.) on good terms again, richie would still inevitably use yn as a safe haven but, inescapably, she would always find herself alone at the end of the night, and the night after that, and the one after that.