DECENT (richie tozier + reader)

031

y/n appeared suddenly by the kitchen's doorway, almost giving y/f/n a heart attack—especially of dirty she looks like right now. there was mud all over her legs for christ sake.

"what's that in your hands? where are you going? why do you look so dirty. . . and disgusting and smelly too." her dad waves his hand around his brownie, hoping it won't take her scent.

"we're going to hang out at the quarry." y/n answered, kneeling down by the kitchen's sink, grabbing something under it. she saw what she's looking for and grab it by its handle and she stands up, placing it on the table.

"wait, where are you taking all the brownies?" y/f/n asks, almost sad when y/n grabs the plastic container and place it inside the basket along with her clothes.

"in our tummies, dad." y/n replied, sprinting with the basket in her arm. "i'll see you later!" she waves, opening the door.

"you're still going to make another batch, right?" y/f/n stopped her.

"of course." y/n nods, waving him again a goodbye before closing the door behind her.

"don't be late! the zombies will be live tonight at channel 7!" y/f/n shouts.

"i won't, i'll be there!" y/n answered back behind the door.

the late afternoon's sun greeted her eyes which made her cover it with her arm. squinting, she could see richie cycling towards her house as she steps down the porch to her skateboard—she puts on a smile on her face.

"we're looking awfully good out here, don't ya think?" y/n jokes at their spontaneously awful smell and the marks of grey water's splash on their clothes. "do you think we should fetch beverly in their apartment?" she asks, sighing as she bent down to pick up her skateboard and step on it when she place it on the road, or as she say rud from what she heard how it was supposed to be pronounced by y/f/n's work husband—but why was she thinking all of this when beverly was the one she's worried about right now.

"it's the opposite way to the quarry, don't worry about her, dollface. i'm sure she's also on her way to the quarry right now." richie reassures. he started cycling right after y/n also gripped the handlebar of his bike in which he lets her be.

"but what about what we saw when we were in the—"

"ah, ah, ah!" he tuts, cutting her off. "if it ever comes back again to get beverly—or by this time it got you—i could repeat my speech again and beat the shit out of it, alright? maybe even harder if it was you because you know how i'm head over heels for you just as bill with beverly—ow! what i also mean is that the losers will always have each other's backs and save each other."

"okay," y/n nods. "okay. . ." she agreed quietly.

"what's that in your basket—ohhh is that what i think it is?" richie asked. if he ever was a dog, his ears would prick upward right now. "can i have one before the other losers?"

"that's not fair, richie."

"what do you mean it's not fair?" he exaggerates. "i can smell it in my room even when you were still baking it and i have to stop the urge of breaking inside your house."

"well you almost finished half of my dad's share when he was sleeping in his office room and you snuck inside my room," y/n retorted. "that's what's not fair."