Richie Tozier X You - Tumblr Posts

˗ˏˋ 𝐙𝐄𝐄'𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ˎˊ˗ | idk guys, i tried-

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ 💭 ۫⠀MILES FAIRCHILD.⠀୨୧⠀· ˚

&&* Lesson One &&* Sauce With The Boss &&* Top!Reader x Sub!Boyfriend &&* NSFW Headcanons

💭 ۫⠀BORIS PAVLIKOVSKY.⠀୨୧⠀· ˚

&&* Foreplay Headcanons &&* Riding A Foreign &&* Sauce With The Boss &&* NSFW Headcanons

💭 ۫⠀FINN WOLFHARD.⠀୨୧⠀· ˚

&&* Hopelessly Pinning &&* Sauce With The Boss &&* Hot, Heavy, and Handsome &&* Yandere!Finn Alphabet &&* "Method" Acting &&* Pussy Eater &&* Worship & Praise

💭 ۫⠀RICHIE TOZIER.⠀୨୧⠀· ˚

&&* Digits &&* Bottom!Richie x Top!Reader &&* Richie Taking Shy!Reader's Virginity &&* Richie Fingering Shy!Reader &&* Sauce With The Boss &&* How Long Has it Been Since You've Eaten?

💭 ۫⠀ZIGGY KATZ.⠀୨୧⠀· ˚

&&* Sauce With The Boss &&* Gettin' Jiggy With Ziggy

💭 ۫⠀MIKE WHEELER.⠀୨୧⠀· ˚

&&* Sauce With The Boss &&* I'm Sorry The World Is Failing You &&* Digits

💭 ۫⠀SAL FISHER.⠀୨୧⠀· ˚

&&* Softie Toppy &&* Top!Reader x Sub!Boyfriend &&* Sal x Injured!Reader &&* Sal With A Hard To Please SO &&* Is That My Shirt Babe?

💭 ۫⠀LINK.⠀୨୧⠀· ˚

&&* BOTW/TOTK!Link NSFW Headcanons

💭 ۫⠀TICCI TOBY.⠀୨୧⠀· ˚

&&* Headcanons [tba]

A Night Out With Thee Richie Tozier (r.t)

anonymous : cliche prompt #42 with Richie? I’m going to save you from the terrible date you’re having

summary Richie saves (Y/N) from a horrible date with Derry high school’s resident golden boy.

warnings swearing, drinking

(Y/N) thought that she’d be smarter than to let herself get into this situation. Obviously, she wasn’t.

A Waffle House? For a first date? Maybe she was being too snobbish but she certainly expected more from Derry High School’s Basketball Captain.

She nodded her head along to whatever Lance was saying probably a bit too eagerly, wanting him to just shut up about sports.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom but uh I’ll be right back.” Lance smirked. (Y/N) hummed and sent him a tight lipped smile.

Picking at her barely touched plate of food, she didn’t notice the door to the dinner open and close.

“Overdressed much?” Richie snorted, more of a question than a statement. “What the fuck are you doing here? Dressed like that.” He snickered, taking in the scene in front of him.

“Asshole,” (Y/N) frowned, “I’m on a date.” She says in a hushed tone, face flushing.

Richie and (Y/N) weren’t close, not by a long shot, but they were close enough for her to call him asshole and for him to not take it to heart.

“With who? Cause’ shit this is weird.” He sniffles awkwardly before taking a seat in her dates chair.

“I didn’t know Lance was taking me to get breakfast food for dinner.” (Y/N) said hurriedly, rolling her eyes, careful not to rub her eyes in frustration, the mascara she so carefully applied would be ruined.

“Lance... Lance Evans?” Richie asked in disbelief. 

(Y/N) groaned and Richie all but choked, almost falling off his chair.

“I know he didn’t let me into the team but... I didn’t know the guy could be so,” Richie gestured to (Y/N), the food in front of her and their current setting. “Charming.” He seemed satisfied. biting back his grin with little to no effort.

“Yeah and he’s gonna be out here any second so,” (Y/N) shrugged and nodded to the exit, the sensible thing for Richie to do would be to walk away, but leaving (Y/N) there would be heartless. Right?

Richie rolled his eyes, “okay fine. Let’s go.” Richie stood up, abroptly. “What?”

“You’re clearly having a horrible time, princess. Breakfast and more basketball talk with Evans or a night out with Thee Trashmouth Tozier? Not even a question.” He scoffed playfully.

(Y/N)’s brows furrowed in a playfully judgemental manner. He was right. Listen to Lance talk about how he ‘’made it rain’ at last Friday’s game or leave right now with Richie. “Where are we going?”

“Well, I actually just got intoa’ fight with the big sis.” Richie grinned boyishly, following (Y/N) out the door. “So you came here?” “This is my fuckin’ spot, babe! I always come here.”

(Y/N) waited while Richie unlocked his car and when he did, he opened the rear door for her. She wanted to make a joke about how Richie was such a gentleman but cringed sat herself and held it back instead.

Richie huffed as he started the engine, “your place?” He asked through a smirk cheekily. “You wish.” (Y/N) laughed, snorting.

“So what did you do to piss your sister off so bad?” (Y/N) asked Richie as she absentmindedly played with the straw of her cherry slushy, eyes fixed on the street fighter character Richie was currently playing as.

His hand movements sped up and got rougher as he began to loose, a quick glance at (Y/N) being enough to mess with his flow, the pixelated character on the bright screen grunting as it fell to the ground, dead. Game over.

He turned to her and she took his look in. Really took him in for the first time ever. His face was flushed a light pink, hair a mess, but his eyes. His eyes were different tonight, for the first time, they didn’t have any sense of mischief behind them, Richie didn’t feel the need to mess with (Y/N) for her attention or do something that might hurt himself for it either.

“What? You think I’m paying for all of this with my own hard earned money?” He joked dramatically, gesturing at the plastic bag filled with arcade tokens and (Y/N)’s slushy. “So you robbed her?” (Y/N) grimaced from the brain freeze as well as the thought of Richie stealing from his sister.

“Uh uh; borrowed.” He said matter-of-factly as he, for the third time that night, pushed two tokens into the street fighter machine.

“And what’re you doing drinking that shit?” Richie reaches into his pocket and took out a half full miniature bottle of absolut vodka. “You bought that with your sisters money too?” (Y/N) asked curiously. “No, Mr. Keene’s jus a dumbass.”

“What? He deserves it! Fuckin’ creep...” Richie responded to (Y/N)’s sour look as he shivered at the mention of the drug store owner.

“Here.” Richie quickly unscrewed the small bottle, working quick as he turned the glass upside down, piercing the slushy in (Y/N)’s hand as he impaled it neck deep into her drink, the once cherry red color diluting as the alcohol seeped into the slush.

(Y/N) didnt complain, only holding it away from Richie when he tried to grab at it.

“No way. Your driving me home.” She said teasingly as she sipped at the concoction.

“Whatever.” Richie rolled his eyes, hand gripping the joystick under him as he’s done hundreds of times, swiveling it around a bit and finally pressing the “play” button.

(Y/N) smilled, cheeks flushing, Richie would make a joke about it but she would swear that it was from the alcohol.

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.