Finn Wolfhard Imagines

Richie- Nicknames

(You, Richie, and the rest of the characters in this story are in middle school)

You and Richie almost got detention everyday for bickering loudly, cursing, and calling each other names during class and even after, outside the classroom in public like an old married couple on the process of filing divorce.

Your parents were called by the school, so you guys were grounded and told not to speak to each other for a week. This sucked for both of you since though you hated each other 70% of the time, you were the best of friends for 30%.

The next day, you walked past by Richie. He sat two lunch tables across you with Bill, Ben, and Mike while you were with Bev, Stan, and Eddie. You would catch Richie peeking, with an annoyed expression and once he notices, he looks away angrily.

You were used to sitting beside Richie and starting a bet. He would always, always lose so he'd get you your favorite yoghurt drink or ice cream from your favorite ice cream parlor. The last time Richie lost, he asked for a raincheck since he was 3 cents short so you let him off.

You didn't expect that the passive-aggressive four eyes would surprise you today after class by throwing a small yoghurt drink box that hit the back of your head as you pass by him again.

"OW?!?" You blurt out. Richie looked at you with a sarcastic smile and gestured a 'read the note' with his fingers.

"No talking, remember? Drink up fuckface. Why do you even like this? It isn't even worth stealing from my mom."

Fuckface. Richie was the only one who knew your dirty little secret and saw it to its full extent, but still accepted you for who you are, didn't see you any different, and never changed how he treated you.

You were a sick psycho alien clown on a 'strictly children only' diet's daughter. Apparently, your mom in her horny teens got super experimental and went total freak mode one night, then she had you but died after you were born. You just got lucky when a very nice suburban couple with three sons who wanted a daughter, adopted you.

You were aware that you could split the movement of your eyes in two different directions and unnaturally shapeshift into people's worst nightmares but thankfully, you didn't inherit your father's 'exotic diet'.

Shrugging off the thought in your mind, you giggled at how obnoxiously cute and stupid Richie could be. You poked the straw in your drink and sipped away, giving a thumbs up as a response to his note.

"Honey, c'mon. Let's go home. How was school today? Oh-"

You didn't realize that your mom was already standing behind you so you scampered around in your head, looking for what to say to your mom as she saw you low-key communicating with Richie.

"Mmm-hmm. I see you, honey. I know you very well. You like the boy. That's why you pretend to hate him."

"Ew, mom! Stop! Richard Tozier? Gross."

"Whatever you say, honey. Whatever you say." You walked with your mom to the car and drove home.

As soon as you got a little far from school, you thought of the prom but felt deeply sad, knowing you won't go any close to dancing with Richie soon with this situation. So you decided to break the silence with a deep sigh and bring up how you really feel.

"Hey mom, If I say that I do like him a little, will you let me talk to him already?"

"I knew it! Ha! Okay then. I'll talk to the Toziers about it. But you have to promise me, NO CURSING. NO ARGUING IN CLASS AND IN PUBLIC. NO MORE CALLING EACH OTHER NAMES. Try calling him something sweet for once. I bet he'll swoon."