Tumgik
#like im there for the reddie content but it just doesn’t hit the same if Stan Took A Bath
sunshinereddie · 9 months
Note
a continuation of the last ask and your response: but what if it does become a point of contention between richie and eddie because richie is (rightfully) traumatized and concerned about leaving eddie alone and wanting to make sure he’s recovering but eddie is so tired of being smothered and even though it’s so different from his mother or myra he can’t help but feel the similarities and they have to come to a conclusion that they both have stuff they need to work on. i just love dysfunctional post-canon reddie where yes they’re in love with each other but they also underestimate how difficult it’s going to be to actually be together
ohhhhh yesss!!!! as much as i love writing cute and fluffy post-ch2 reddie, i think it’s also so so important to remember that their relationship probably wouldn’t be perfect right away. it would honestly probably be far from perfect. they haven’t seen each other in 27 years, and they have both gone through their own traumas in those years, and it will definitely take them both some time to work through their own and each other’s!
like im imagining the tension has been building up between the two of them for a while, and eventually one day eddie kind of snaps and compares richie to his mother or myra in a moment of frustration. this of course would hit both of them pretty hard, because richie KNOWS everything that sonia and myra have done to eddie, and the last thing he wants to be is just another iteration of control and possessiveness over eddie, and he’s hurt that he has made eddie feel that way. but he knows that this is a sensitive area for eddie, and he feels guilty about it, but he just can’t help but worry whenever he thinks about all the times eddie just narrowly missed death.
and eddie doesn’t really know what to feel, because he KNOWS that richie is just trying to care for him, but even though it is richie that doesn’t change how eddie feels about being fussed over about his health. he obviously doesn’t want to compare richie to his ex-wife, or even worse his mother, but he can’t help it. being smothered, no matter by who, has that same effect on him. he is traumatized, and that doesn’t magically go away. he loves richie, and he can appreciate that richie wants to make sure he’s okay, but eddie needs him to know that he’s not quite ready for that yet.
AAAHHH THANK YOU FOR THIS IDEA it’s giving me lots to think about hehe
8 notes · View notes
Text
anyone else hold their breath whenever they’re reading a post-chapter 2 fix-it fic until they get confirmation that Stan is alive? like it could literally be PWP and have absolutely nothing to do with him and im still like “...okay where’s Stan? please reference a living, breathing Stanley Uris before I lose my shit.” 
48 notes · View notes
beepbeeprichiellc · 6 years
Note
#146 for reddie !! (: ( can you have it focused on richie?? ALSO IM IN LOVE WITH UR WRITING K BYE)
146. Are you okay? 
The night was especially cold. August had given away into the early fall month, chasing away the warm summer evenings with a cold breeze. Now the wind bit at his skin, nipping at his nerves with such force that he couldn’t help but shiver. All could look at was his feet, his worn converse were dirty and just about two sizes too small for him. Blood trailed down the cut on his face, falling from his chin and spilling onto the asphalt below.  
Each drop created a larger pool than the one before. The redness of it mocked him, reminding him of his father’s face. He had been so angry. So angry at him. It had been the shards of his beer bottle that had cut him, that had sliced open his skin. If it had been a millimeter to the left or if Richie had been a second slower than it would have hit his face, undoubtedly earning another trip to the ER.
He hadn’t made it far out of his house before he couldn’t walk any further, settling on the park bench outside of the grade school. There weren’t any tears because there never were. He hadnn’t broken down in years, now it was just a passing thing. Bad grade? Beating. Smart mouth? Beating. Stop daddy from beating mommy? Pounding.
Over and over, it was a cycle. Just like the seasons, predictable and normal.
“Richie?” The trashmouth’s head snapped up, meeting the gaze of the smallest loser. His cheek was red and swollen, his eyes dripping with fresh tears. Richie could only gape, unsure if what he was seeing was real or not. “Are you okay?”
Eddie dropped his bike, taking the few steps over to where he sat, kneeling down in front of him. “Oh god, you’re bleeding.” He whimpered, opening his fanny pack and fumbling with its contents. “Okay, this is going to sting.”
Well, he wasn’t lying. Richie hissed as the antibiotic wipe made contact with his wound, the blood soaking into its fibers. “What are you doing here Eds? What happened to your face, why are you-”
“Stop moving.” Eddie growled, tossing the wipe aside and grabbing a bandaid. “You keep moving and it’s making-”
“Eddie.” Richie whispered, grabbing hold of his frail wrists. The boy’s doe eyes met his, the pain behind his stare burning his skin. “What’s going on?”
The stout boy dropped his gaze, looking at something between them that was unseen. “Nothing.” Eddie muttered, prying his wrist from Richie’s hold. “Don’t worry about it.”
The trashmouth watched him, the tension between them thick and fuzzy. None of this was right, Richie had spent countless nights on this bench, never disturbed, especially not by one of his friends. Once the bandaid was placed on his face, Eddie pulled back, standing up where he was. He nodded, walking back to his bike.
“Did your mom do that to you?” Richie found himself asking, “Did she hit you Eddie?”
The small boy sighed, gripping onto his handlebars tightly. Maybe he didn’t look up because he couldn’t, or maybe because he was ashamed, either way when he finally spoke it was to his shoes. “It’s nothing compared to you Rich. Not even close.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s okay.” He replied, watching Eddie squirm in his own skin. “That doesn’t mean she can get away with it.”
“I talked back.” He whimpered, sniffling. “I wouldn’t take my pills, I tried to tell her that they make me puke, that I can’t eat when I take them but she wouldn’t listen. She told me I was sick, that because I like boys my brain is fucked up.”
“You’re gay?” Richie asked, causing his friend to flinch. Confusion brimmed in his eyes, a look of concern growing with every shallow breath Eddie took. “Why didn’t you tell us? Why am I just now finding this out?”
Eddie chuckled, the hollow humor making Richie’s stomach churn. “Do me a favor and don’t tell the others okay? I couldn’t survive if they hated me too.”
“Hate you? Eddie I could never-”
“I’ve got to go.” He muttered, cutting off the trashmouth completely. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Eds, wait.” But he didn’t. Richie watched him ride down the street before disappearing around the corner. Even though he was gone, the trasmouth still stared, still watched for any sign that what he had just happened had been in his head, that his best friend didn’t just admit to abuse at the hands of his overbearing mother. But as he traced the bandaid on his face he knew. He knew that it was all real.
A breeze picked up out of the east, tangling itself in his hair and making its way under his skin. He shivered, pulling his jacket tighter against him. Eventually he made his way home, knowing that by now his father would be passed out on the couch.
Richie could feel the season turning, only this time there had been a kink in the routine. For better or worse, something had changed tonight and nothing was ever going to be the same again.
59 notes · View notes