what are you afraid of? || eddie kaspbrak x reader

ONE

(a/n) i wrote this story back when i didn't know the r word was a slur so i think in one or two chapters it might come up. i don't know which chapters they are but just a heads up, i'm really sorry if you're offended by them. if i had known it was a slur when i wrote this then i never would've used it

another a/n sorry- uh okay so i just want y'all to know that this book is about eddie and ONLY eddie. i don't support jack anymore after what he did i only like his characters. fuck jack. jack is a cunt.

"So, there's this church full of jews, right? And Stan has to take the super jew-y test."

Eddie Kaspbrak made wild hand gestures as he enthusiastically explained the Bar Mitzvah test to his friends, walking side-by-side with Richie Tozier, Bill Denbrough, and (Y/n) (L/n). 

"W-wait, how does it work?" Bill asked.

"They slice the tip of his dick off," Eddie replied, shrugging when you gave him a weird look.

"But then Stan'll have nothing left!" Richie smirked. He was the joker of the group, the class clown. Although the stereotypical 'funny guy' would be popular and have a million friends, Richie was a complete and utter loser. You loved it. That's sort of what made him himself.

"Wait, you guys!"

Stanley Uris finally managed to catch up with your fast pace and grabbed onto your shoulder to steady himself, completely out of breath. Bill turned to him with a grin. "Hey, Stan, what happens at Mitzvah, anyways? Ed says they slice the tip of your d-d-dick off."

"Yeah, the rabbi's gonna pull down your pants, turn to the crowd and say, 'Where's the beef?'" Richie laughed. You usually never wanted to give him the satisfaction of laughing at his jokes, but he was actually really funny, though it was clear Stan didn't agree judging by his unimpressed expression.

"At the bar Mitzvah," The way he was explaining it made it sound like he was talking to a three-year-old. "I read from the torah, and suddenly, I become a man."

"I can think of funner ways to become a man," Richie said.

"More fun, you mean."

Before Richie could complain about how much he hated people correcting his grammar, he spotted the infamous Bowers Gang leaning against the lockers a few feet away. The other four noticed them as well and they all shared uneasy glances, especially when Patrick creepily licked his lips and Henry winked at you. Gross.

"Do you think they'll sign my yearbook?" Richie grinned, turning back into his confident, annoying self as soon as they were out of earshot. "'Dear Richie, sorry for taking a hot, steaming dump in your backpack last month. Have a great summer!'"

Your laugh immediately got cut short when Stan stumbled into Greta Keene, some stuck-up bitch who people actually liked for some reason. Her angry expression gave off the vibe that she was off to torment another poor girl, just like she does to you, and it kind of pissed you off a little. She always acted like she was above everyone when she was really just a dumb hoe.

"Hey, I'll catch up with you guys outside." You said, glancing over your shoulder in Greta's direction. She was headed to the girls' toilets. "I gotta go to the bathroom."

"Can I come?!" Richie yelled after you as you ran over to the toilets. You flipped him off and opened the door to the bathroom where Greta was kicking a stall angrily.

"Are you in there by yourself, Beaverly?" She snarled. "Or do you have half the guys at school with you, huh, slut? I know you're in there, little shit, I can smell you. No wonder you don't have any friends."

Another girl, who you were pretty sure her name was Blonde Thot or something, began to fill up a trash bag with water. There was no doubt they were going to dump it all over the unfortunate girl inside of the stall. They had done the same thing to you on your first day.

"Which is it, Greta?" A defeated voice sighed from inside the stall. "Am I a slut or a little shit? Make up your mind."

"You're trash," Greta smirked, taking a step back. "We just wanted to remind you."

Blonde Thot began to drag the garbage bag over to where Greta was standing and that was when you decided to stop standing there like a useless lump. "Dude, what the fuck are you doing?" You stormed up to Blonde Thot and she stared at Greta, as if to say, 'what do I do now?'

"Just ignore her. She's the one that hangs out with those loser boys all of the time." Greta told her friend, rolling her eyes. Then she turned to you. "Actually, why don't you join Beaverly in there? You're both like each other- total sluts."

"Well, Greta," You smiled in fake-sympathy. "I just wanted to say, I think your dad should know about how you treat other people. He won't be too happy to find out his precious daughter is actually a mean, cold-hearted bully, huh?" 

Greta was quiet for a moment before turning to her friends with a scowl. "Come on, let's go girls."

She exited the bathroom with her three brainless friends trailing after her. As soon as they were gone, the stall door slowly opened revealing a pretty girl with red hair and freckles. She gave you a grateful smile.

"Thanks for sticking up for me. No one's ever done that before." She sounded genuinely surprised.

"No problem. They were about to dump trash water on you." You replied. "I'm (Y/n), by the way."

"Beverly." The redhead shook your hand. You glanced at the clock on the wall (yes there's a clock in the bathroom ok) and your eyes widened. It had nearly been ten minutes.

"Shit, I have to go." You said, rushing to the door. "My friends are waiting for me and there's this one specific dude who's gonna make a sexual joke about why I took so long in the bathroom." You were talking about Richie, of course.

Beverly laughed. "Okay, I'll see you around, (Y/n)."

"It was great meeting you!" You called over your shoulder as you ran as fast as you could back to the losers.