#i now need a warm bevvy

[belladonnafleur]

i <3 making chai not necessarily bc i love chai but bc of the Chai Smell

[modernquackfare]

Hello, how are you? If you're taking requests could you please write this one. Its been cooking in my brain since christmas.

Its a bit funny, angsty with lots of misunderstanding. So basically, Ghost has a civilian wife he never told the taskforce because he's overprotective. Now they are in deployment and simon is downright a pain in the ass with a permanent chub in his paints.

Soap or Gaz thinks he's like that due to being sexually frustrated and enlist a not so new recruit who have been with them for like six months, to get rid of simon's problem and it doesn't hurt that the recruit has a crush on Ghost.

The last day of deployment and they make the operation seduce ghost on when its so happens to be bring your family to base day and the taskforce finds out about wife!reader.

Could you please write this, i know its a bit long and complicated. Thank you❤️❤️

A/N: This was an awesome idea to write and think about! Thank you for the request :) i kinda did a little bit of head hopping here, sorry, and i hope it doesnt take away from the enjoyment of reading TT

Ghost x Wife!reader

•◌•◌•★•◌•◌•

This really isn't Ghost's scene anymore. A dim and dusty dive bar, considered upscale in comparison to The Foxhole back on base. Every surface slick with polished wood, torn cushions under his thighs, and the smell of a deep laugh lingering in every corner. At the very least, they serve drink that isn't watery beer or tequila that tastes like paint.

It's not the bar itself, per se, that he's lost his taste for—but rather the hand that shakes his shoulder away from his glass, leading to an arm that leads to the Scottish pain in his ass.

"Her over there," Soap nudges, blithely unaware of his own pointing finger. "Thas' gotta be yer type, aye? C'mon, throw us a bone here, or we’ll need to start huntin' for the perfect lad for you instead."

"Don't start, Johnny," Ghost grunts, his unoccupied hand dusting the air in dismissal.

Gaz leans in, warm gaze turned to the very woman sitting at the bar just feet away. None of them can quite recall her name, but hers is a bit of a familiar face. A smile in the hall, or accidental eye contact in the briefing room. One of a hundred others, Ghost bitterly notes, adjusting the fit of his trousers under the table.

Is it too much to hope for a quiet night out, with nothing but a bourbon to nurse and a silent curse at Ghost's own decision to persist in this line of work? It's been on his mind lately, that decision of his. He could have settled, found himself some kind of security gig or the deed to a run down warehouse he can turn into a gym. Found himself his very own Rocky Balboa to lead to victory—or something.

"If you won't do it, I will," Gaz quips, pushing himself out of the booth and striding on over to Miss Solitude at the bar. The woman turns, gaze flicking from Gaz, to their table, and then back to Gaz.

Soap shakes his head. "Right in there, like a bloody rat up a drainpipe. You’ve gotta be quicker than that, LT. No need to be shy, you just buy her a bevvy and get to talkin'."

"Was never a chance to begin with."

"Like hell there wasn't."

The conversation is finalized with a scoff and flicking hand, as if Ghost meant to shoo away a buzzing fly. Might as well be.

***

If it wasn't the long showers, it was how distracted he was behaving lately. If not that, then it definitely came down to the absolute wallop Ghost landed on Soap a week or more later during their hand-to-hand combat training. Something has the lieutenant in the trenches of his own mind—and if only to preserve the unbruised quality of his own skin, Soap recruits Gaz in his efforts to get Ghost laid.

Gaz snickers behind his hand when Soap first suggests the idea. "You sure that's the problem here? It's not like—"

"Just think about it, Gaz," Soap insists, gesturing as if presenting to a row of investors. "He's never spent a night anywhere but in his own bloody room. Like he's some kind of old man who needs to be in bed before nine. I mean, look at him."

The two turn to watch Ghost in his spot by the wall, gazing into a gooey custard bun he's torn in half. He squeezes it, shoves one half back into its wrapper, and stuffs it into his pocket.

Gaz whistles softly. "It's like watching a big cat pace in a cage."

"Aye, I know. And I have a plan to fix it." Soap then gestures across the firing range, to a certain figure clutching a pistol in two hands. Liora, her name is? Something like that.

Raising an eyebrow, Gaz tilts his head. "What, with her? Girl from the bar? She was nice when I talked with her, but she's already got her eyes on someone else already. Not sure who, but she's practically taken, mate."

"Never say never," Soap winks nonetheless, gesturing lightly as Liora lays down her gun. He then shrugs suggestively, beginning his trek towards her. "Lt's a silver tuna, being all masked up and sour as he is. Given the chance, well—"

"I'm sure," Gaz sighs, tinged with light amusement. "Go on, then. Go ask her."

***

As it turns out, Soap and Gaz have half their job done for them. Liora, as quiet as she is, and largely suspicious about her two superiors' intentions, eventually reveals that her affinity for this mystery man does, in fact, lead back to Ghost. Akin to a schoolgirl, she's got a crush. A fierce one.

In between missions, while Ghost is tapping away at a laptop and twitching in his seat, Gaz nudges Liora into delivering him some coffee. If not that, Soap pushes her into volunteering during training to spar with him. All the while, she tries to hold his gaze a little longer, let her hand linger just a little more. This time in particular, Soap and Gaz giggle across the room like children with a toy car, watching as Liora gathers up her courage to tell Ghost a joke.

"Soap said you liked jokes," she shrugs. "So...why did the soldier bring a ladder to the training ground?"

"Mmh, why?" Ghost mumbles, half attentive to her words.

Liora cluelessly sits beside him, half a giggle in her voice. "To join the high ranks." It coaxes an amused huff out of him—and nothing more.

***

How could Ghost find anything funny these days? The tension is up to his ears, racing through every vein. And his wife, God, his poor wife back home has no idea what's in store for her once this damned deployment is over. You sent him a lovely little video from the shower this morning to try to ease the pain of being away for so long. A sweet gesture in intention, but all it's done is exacerbate the ache in his loins and tongue for a familiar feel and taste, to hold you in his arms and sink steadily into you or press you to the wall as he takes what he needs from your soft, pliable body.

Ghost grunts. Damn his mind. He's the very farthest thing from a professional when it comes to you. Liora—or so the others call that girl—is gone by the time he's come to his senses, replaced by Soap, who pounds a closed fist against his back in greeting. "Hopeless, brother. You're hopeless."

"Piss off, Johnny."

"You keep squirmin' like your gear's riding up," He sighs, hands on his hips. "Still cannae wrap ma head 'round why you won't just give her a shot."

Ghost glares up at him, attention diverted from his work. "You been puttin' her up to this?"

"She's nae faking, Ghost. C'mon. Give the poor lass a chance. C'mon, ma pride's hingin' on this, mate." Soap grabs hold of his shoulder and shakes it around, moving him like a damn joystick. "Go on, you wee bawbag, at least give her the time o' day."

"14:32, you muppet."

Soap leaves it at that with a laugh, swaggering off elsewhere as Ghost counts down the hours until he can retreat to the privacy of his room and fist his cock to your little videos until it hurts.

***

The end of his deployment. Never a sweeter day there's been—aside from your wedding, perhaps. Ghost is shedding layers in his room, yanking off his fatigues in exchange for civvies, just as the creaking sound of his unlocked bedroom door sounds out. You're here. Normally, Ghost saves you any kind of journey and just heads home alone—but the impatience is getting to his fevered brain. Besides, you could do with a little break from the house.

He turns to face you. "Oh, I've been on the brink of murdering—"

Ghost's words come to an abrupt halt at the sight of Liora, rather than you, standing in the doorway of his room. This is a dangerous situation for her, invading on a superior's privacy without a clear go-head. Not to mention rude in it of itself. He drops his shirt, suddenly aware of his own half-dress. No one but his wife sees him like this, tattooed sleeve bared, boots off and nothing but a face mask to hide his identity.

He doesn't speak, thinking his cold stare would do the job for him, as it tends to, but clueless Liora steps forward in a rush of misplaced confidence. "Just wanted to say goodbye," she whispers, her hand reaching out to stroke his arm. It makes his skin tingle in all the worst ways. "Guess I'll have to find a new sparring partner for now, sir. Hope they can take hits as well as you."

Does she not see it, he wonders. How he dodges her touch and exhales a sigh of indifference. Poor girl. She's got a lot to learn.

His indifference, nonetheless, does not deter her. Liora trails her hand up his shoulders, far too intimate for a girl who is little more than an acquaintance. But curse his speed, failing him at the most crucial of times—the door opens again, and of course, you walk in as Ghost has a hand on Liora's wrist. Unclear to you whether he meant to push it away or pull it closer. Ghost releases his grip and mutters a sharp, "leave us," to the girl, before facing his beloved wife.

There you stand, as pretty as the day he met you, gaze flitting from a mortified Liora—now leaving the room—to your husband. Ghost stalks closer, brown eyes softening at the sight of you. "Was waiting for you, love."

"You needed company to wait for me?" You ask, arms crossing before your chest. That sting of instinctual fear and possessiveness, the tight curling ache in your gut that clenches at the thought of being deceived and abandoned by the once you love most—you can't ignore it. Logic attempts to unfurl its spindly talons, telling you that it would make no sense for Ghost to have called some girl into his room just as his wife makes her way up to see him. But what was she doing in his room? Pawing at him, as if it were her place to do so?

Ghost's gaze falls fondly upon you, warm and uncharacteristically tired. "Didn't ask for her to come in. She helped herself."

"Really?" you huff, treading forward to stop before him. "Didn't look like it, Si."

"Doesn't have to," He grunts back. "You trust me."

It's true. You know the kind of man he is, and it isn't a cheating fool that takes what he has for granted. God knows he wouldn't risk losing more after everything he's already lost. Especially not you, the light of his shadowy life. Your arms fall to your sides, and you sigh. "She must have had real guts, then. Coming into your room, trying to...what was it she wanted, anyway?" Feeling the tension siphon from the room, Ghost returns to packing, laying haphazardly folded shirts into his last duffel and grunting a noncommittal sound. "Fuck if I know. 'M pretty sure it's Soap and Gaz's doing, though. They've been insisting on me giving her a chance. Poor tossers got another thing comin'." You laugh as you take a seat beside his bag, glancing around the room. Impersonal decor, as always. Ghost has always been a private person, even within the confines of privacy. Hell, his closest friends don't even know you exist. It used to make you suspicious, being his secret girlfriend back in the day. Now, though, the secrecy is natural, comforting even.

"I don't suppose you'd be up to ending that streak, would you?" You suggest, leaning over his bag.

Ghost can only sigh, the deepest gust of breath he's ever held. May God smite him where he stands if he ever says no to you.

***

Gaz, mouth agape, glances over at the Scot beside him. "A wife?"

Ghost, inevitably, agreed to let the two of them meet you. That makes three other people out of the entire base that knows of your existence—the third being Price. You wave, albeit a little shyly, and smile in greeting the numpties that Ghost has spoken so much about. Good guys, if a bit foolish. "That's me."

"Creepin' Jesus," Soap grimaces, in all of his discomfort and mild embarrassment, "Didnae ken you had a wife, Lt. Couldnae have told me that before I started nudging that other poor lass into trying to get a ride outta you?"

Flicking his head up in satisfaction, Ghost chuckles. "Teach you a lesson, you children. I think you owe my missus an apology." "Ach, sorry ma'am," Gaz concedes, while Soap follows with a similarly apologetic smile.

"You've got a bonnie one, Lt. Save some for the rest of us, eh?" "Not happening. What the hell made you think that was a good idea?"

Soap glances over at him, eyebrows raised. "What, setting you up? You needed a ride, man, you were fair uptight and tense all the time. Almost put a window in my face wi' that fist o' yours."

It evokes another breathy laugh from you, drawing your husband's loving gaze before it trails back to Soap and Gaz. "Right. But that's my business, isn't it?"

"Thanks for trying to help him out anyway," You cut in, nodding your head politely to their happy smirks. "I'm sure he needed it, even if he does do his best not to show it."

Your words earn you a stern gaze—but nothing you couldn't handle. Let Ghost direct that energy into something else. Something fun that you have a few ideas for.

Soap and Gaz bid their goodbyes to Ghost before walking off, audibly muttering, "how the hell did that sour old bastard get such a sweet wife?" Or something along those lines. Regardless, you turn your attention to your dear, suffering husband with a tricky smirk. "So. You've been having some difficulties lately? Anything I could help with? If you're not expected to be somewhere else within the next hour or so, that is."

It coaxes a deep chuckle out of your husband, who's already sliding his hand 'round your waist down to the curve of your ass, gently squeezing. Nobody's around to see, anyhow. Ghost whispers into your reddening ear. "I think we'll be needing more than an hour, sweet thing." •◌•◌•★•◌•◌•

Request Archive

[doublesidedgemini]

I completely forgot about my tea and passed out last night… luckily I put it in my yeti before I went to bed so it was still warmish but not nearly as comforting as drinking a whole hot tumbler of tea ugh fail 😭

[asteriismos]

hey jude - richie tozier

warning(s) : eighteen! richie tozier, rough smut, degrading terms like slut and bitch, choking, a daddy kink, oral ( male recieving )

authors note : im not saying listen to ‘da ya think im sexy?’ by rod stewart while listening to this but thats exactly what im saying

words : 3.8k

request :

Hey , I was wondering if you could do a smut with 2017 Richie being In an alt couple , with a girl who’s brittish with degrading , rough smut , choking and the almighty daddy kink ❤️

ever since you moved to derry, things have been different for richie. 

the first time you stepped into his math classroom after winter break, teacher claiming that you were the new transfer student, he couldn’t get his mind off of you. you were gorgeous, not like anyone else in the small little town of derry that he’s been living in all his life. if there were anyone there that was half as cool as you seemed, richie would be interested in them. but there wasn’t. you were the breath of fresh air in his life that he didn’t know he needed, and you had only been in the classroom for 3 minutes.

then you spoke. and richie was even more interested in you. 

you had an accent, clearly from the uk, which was explained while you talked a little bit in front of the class as the teacher awkwardly tried to get you to tell them about yourself. your dad was a businessman who was seeing some type of potential in bangor, and fell in love with derry when he drove through it a few months ago. 

now you were here, finishing up your senior year here and going to college in the states. you seemed a little bitter about that to richie, but who was he to judge. he really didn’t like derry himself, he was glad that you only had to stay here for half a year instead of eighteen fucking years. 

the rest of the day he thought of you, though his thoughts skewed a little bit towards lunch, worried about the history pop quiz that people were talking about. history was his eighth period, which led to much anxiety about the end of the day. but after school ended, richie was going to meet up with the rest of the losers outside of the school near the entrance so that they could all go get hot chocolate at stan’s place. early january in derry was so cold that it was almost impossible not to drink a warm beverage every single day. 

he sat outside on the hoods of stanley’s car lighting a cigarette when he looked up, seeing you walking over to the car right beside beverly. bevvie said that she met you in gym class and you two apparently hit it off. 

and the rest was history. you became an official unofficial member of the losers club. bev adored you, the two of you became some kind of punk rock loving duo, and that’s all it took for you to get introduced to the rest of the group.

as said before, it was customary for the entire losers club to go to someones house after school ended and to get some hot drink. winter was soon coming to an end, derry launching further into the cusp of spring every day. the snow was beginning to melt on the ground, trees starting to produce their green leaves, and the sun was shining more and more each day.

“richie, can you come and help with the coffee? jesus, it’s your house!” eddie yelled from the kitchen of the tozier residence. richie was seated on the couch next to you, spewing some nonsense about this girl in your shared math class together and how she apparently bit down on this football players dick the other day trying to give him head.

you laughed, leaning into the couch enough to where the fluffy built in cusions almost enveloped you. “you’re such a liar, tozier,” you said through your laughs, hitting him lightly on the side of the head. richie shook his head, stifling out a chuckle of his own. in his own awful posh british voice impression, he exclaimed, “you are SUCH a liar, tozier.”

“fuck off,” you said to him. “go help eddie.” you reached over and pushed him off the couch, watching richie as he walked into the kitchen out of earshot.

you sat at the couch, a smile still on your face thinking about the trashmouth. you hadn’t told anyone about your impending interest in richie for fear of them telling him because this group was not good at keeping secrets from each other at all. the only person that you vaguely told was beverly, saying that you had an interest in someone in your math class. that left like 10 boys, including richie, in the mix. but the more you hung out with the group, the more you floated towards richie tozier. it wasn’t that hard to tell whom you had feelings for when you two were together.

beverly was starting to notice your feelings for richie and you knew it. 

“so y/n,” beverly asked from across the room. you turned to face her, snapping out of your thoughts about richie. “what are the guys like where you’re from?”

stanley gave beverly a look, laughing a little bit to himself at the question. bill put his face into the palm of his hands and looked at you, interested in your answer. you shrugged your shoulders, looking up to the left in thought. “guys are the same, I guess?”

beverly hummed to herself and gave you that devious little smirk of hers, “what about sex? what are they like?” the other guys laughed a little bit, shaking their heads while still listening for what you had to say. you shook your head, deciding that you weren’t going to answer the question. but that wasn’t enough for beverly, she raised her hands up in the air and slapped her thighs to get your attention again. “come on, y/n! we all wanna know what the boys get up to in england.”

you laughed at your friend. “okay, okay,” you said in defeat, putting your hands up in a ‘I surrender’ motion. “i don’t know. they’re okay i guess. but they’re so caring, they keep asking me if I'm okay, you know? it’s like ‘yes I am now stop asking’.” you laughed to yourself, thinking back to the boys that you’ve been with that all do that. they talk the big talk, then when it comes to actually fucking them, they’re afraid to do anything to do you. they go slow and sensual when sometimes you want it hard and rough. it was exhausting and you were so tired of it. you were also so tired of riding guys to try and get an ounce of the fast rhythm that you wanted. 

richie and eddie walked back into the room right as beverly was about to ask another question, eddie going on and on about how richie wasn’t helpful at all and just watched as eds did all the work. you laughed at your two friends and grabbed the coffee mug richie had gotten for you and made room for him on the couch beside you again. he sat down and wrapped his arm loosely around your shoulder, making you smile into your mug as you took a sip. you leaned into his side, savoring the feeling of being in his arms. 

since it was senior year, the losers were trying to go to as many parties as they could. courtesy of bill being on the baseball team, he got a free ride to all of the good ones and invited all of you guys along. you were getting ready for the party in your room, wearing a short black skirt and some tank top to compensate for the heat that would be at the party. 

richie was planning on picking you up, but you told him he could just come inside because your parents weren’t around to yell at you for having a guy in the house. they were really strict about that sort of thing, which pissed you off because a majority of your new friend group was guys. 

a soft knock on your door was heard and you opened it, smiling at richie who stood idly in the hallway. he looked out of place in your home dressed in his dark blue jeans and black smiths t shirt against the yellow wallpaper of your home. “come in, I'm almost done,” you said to him, beckoning him into your room and pointing to the chair he could sit on next to your desk. 

richie took a look at you when you turned away from him, watching your hair that bounced with every step you took and how the edge of your skirt rode up just a little bit with the sway of your hips. realizing that he was definitely staring more than he should, richie shook his head to himself and made his way to the chair to sit. he watched as you looked at the jewelry that was hanging up on a storage rack. you pulled out a gold chain necklace and gave him a look, “could you help me with this?”

he cleared his throat, nodding in response and walking over. he stood behind you, at least a half a head taller than you. richie grabbed the two ends of your necklace, and with his nimble fingers he easily latched it on, watching it fall perfectly on your skin that glowed in the sunlight that shined through your window. you gave him a smile, which he could see from the mirror in front of you. richie looked at you in the mirror and sighed to himself, for some reason feeling jealous of anyone seeing you in such a short skirt. what if there was another guy there that caught your attention? what if you liked the other guy so much that you let him feel up your skirt or even worse, let him fuck you? 

“are you sure you want to wear that?” richie blurted out before even registering it. you gave him a look in the mirror, eyes landing on his own that were staring at you already. 

you gave a slight laugh, though suddenly felt a little strange feeling in your stomach. “what? are you my dad now or something?” you turned around to face him, your faces only inches apart from each other. you could smell his cologne along with the faint smell of cigarette smoke that you always felt yourself getting lost in when you were in class with him. he was looking down at you with dark eyes that made you clench your thighs together. richie walked forward, prompting you to walk backwards until you were pressed against your dresser. the cold surface made you shiver even through your clothing.

richie was kissing you. 

richie was kissing you. 

richie was kissing you.

with his hands placed firmly on the curve of your waist, body pressing against your own, richie kissed you with an unknown desire he didn’t realize that he had until seeing you in that pretty little skirt of yours. it was an almost animalistic urge and desire to show you that you were his, that he wanted you more than anything in this world. 

your lips moved against his own, eyes fluttering shut after the initial shock wore off. his tongue slipped into your mouth with ease and explored it, hands squeezing your sides with his warm hands. you moaned a little in his mouth, trying to keep up with the pace that was hard and rough. your hands flew to his face right below his glasses, fingers splaying along his soft cheekbones that made him shiver. you never thought that this moment would ever be happening, and the more his hips pressed onto your own, you hoped that even your wildest fantasies about richie tozier would be coming true. 

he grabbed you and turned you around so you were walking backwards to the edge of your bed, and with one languid push you were falling back onto your sheets. you pulled away from the kiss with richie to push yourself backwards all the way onto the bed, pulling him by his shoulders back on top of you and in between your legs, which you wrapped around his waist. richie kissed down your neck, biting a large hickey right in the crook of your neck where your shoulder and neck met. your fingers laced themselves into his black curly hair, reveling in how soft it felt. 

“richie,” you moaned out softly with his hips pushing against your own. you could feel the growing hard on of his against your inner thigh, making you even more wet at the thought of him fucking you with it. “I need you so bad.” you said in a soft tone.

richie came up to meet your gaze, giving you a devilish smirk. “I think you need to beg for it a little better, princess.” his hands went under your tank top, cupping your breasts with each of his hands. his fingers came and pinched your nipples, making you arch your back up into his touch. you needed more, you needed so much more from richie right now. “and don’t call me richie, call me daddy.” 

you threw your head back into the pillows, huffing a little bit while your cheeks burned red with embarrassment. “please daddy, fuck me with your cock,” you whined out, giving him an innocent look while batting your eyelashes at him. richie shook his head, making you frown a little bit at him. what else could he possibly want you to say? richie pushed himself off of you, standing at the edge of the bed while you still laid down, a little bit too clothed for his liking. 

“get undressed,” richie ordered. “then get on your knees.” you did what he asked, standing up from the bed, pulling off your tank top and pushing your skirt down. from there you unclipped your bra and slipped your panties down, throwing your discarded clothes elsewhere in your room. the look that richie was giving you was enough to make you moan out quietly, heat getting wetter and wetter with each passing second. you keeled down to your knees in front of him, watching as he worked to take off his belt and push his pants down. “I think you need to prove how much you want daddy’s cock,” he said to you. 

his hands reached to push down his boxers, taking himself into his hands and giving a few good pumps. you waited there for him, mouth open with your tongue laying out right for him to place his dick onto it. soon enough he was pushing into your mouth, making you sputter a small bit around his cock, hollowing out as much as you could. he was thick and long, and you didn’t know if you could even take him all in your mouth. the thought of it being thrust in and out with no remorse made you feel wild. 

you looked up at him, dick in your mouth, waiting for him to make a move. richie tutted, “such a good little slut aren't you? so ready to suck on my cock.” you shivered at the degrading, feeling that fire pool into your abdomen. his hands wrapped into your hair making a makeshift ponytail and pulling you off of his cock, then pushing it back into your mouth. he continued this motion, getting a little faster. you had to breath through your nose, spit drooling down out of your lips and down your chin. 

richie groaned from above you, bottom lip in between his white teeth. you reached to grab the back of his thighs to steady yourself while he used your mouth mercilessly. you gag around him, dick pulling out to give you a moment to breathe. while you breathe, your hands come to pump his cock that was slick with your spit. he didn’t waste another second pushing in, leading you by only your hair. your eyes are starting to water while you try and swallow around him. 

with one last thrust and push all the way to the back of your throat, richie pulls you off of him and says, “now what do you say?” it takes you a moment to find your words. your throat feels raw and fucked out and you don’t trust your voice but you say, “thank you daddy. thank you for letting me taste your cock.” 

“good girl, such a good girl,” richie praises, reaching to pull you up to your feet. your knees feel raw from kneeling before him, but instead of feeling hurt by it you just feel more aroused, anticipating what he would make you do next. “lay on the bed princess, legs spread out for me like a good bitch.”

you nodded your head, whining a little bit from the loss of contact from him, knowing that you would get it soon though. in between your thighs ached at the thought of him going to be inside you, stretching you out and fucking into you until you were a ruined mess. the eye makeup that you had put on for the party was slightly smeared already from the tears welled up in your eyes as he fucked your mouth. he didn’t fit all the way in your mouth . . . you wondered if he would even fit inside of your aching pussy. 

you laid down at the edge of the bed, spreading your legs out to show yourself to him as much as you could. richie smiled at you, a real genuine smile while his eyes raked over your body. you were so wet, he could easily see how much you wanted him, how much you needed him. richie put his hands on your thighs, thumbs running up and down your inner thighs purposely neglecting the place you needed him most. you watched him with needy eyes, breath hitching in your throat once two fingers finally slid along your slicked folds. his fingers caught your arousal, instantly getting wet enough to push into you. they stretched you out, quickening the pace while his other hand kept your hips from squirming around. 

he pulled his fingers out and pushed them into his mouth, moaning at the taste. you tasted so good that richie thought he was going to die right then and there. he pushed off his t shirt and settled in between your legs, letting his hands come right up to your hips. “now take daddy’s cock like the good slut you are, okay princess?” he said to you, giving you no time to answer when he pushed into you with no warnings. there was a little restraint from you around him, he was so big that it took him a moment to bottom out. you took every single inch of him, eyes closing and head throwing back onto the pillow. 

“you’re so big daddy,” you moaned out, hearing him groan your name after you said it. your eyes were still closed so you didn’t see his hand come and reach around your throat until you felt his long fingers wrap around your throat and squeeze. your clit throbbed at the feeling, loving the feeling of his hand around your throat while he pushed slowly in and out. “fuck me daddy, please, I need you so bad daddy,” you begged him, needing something more to push you to finish. 

“well, since you asked so nicely,” richie said to you, pushing down on your throat and fucking into you nice and hard. your tits bounced with every harsh thrust, your hands gripped the sheets beside you while you took every single rut of his hips. you were so desperate and wet for him that the sound that was made every time he pushed in and out was sinful and you loved every second of it. 

he fucked you into the mattress so hard that you were moaning and screaming, feeling hotter and hotter as he took you to that brink. “I think I'm close daddy please let me cum,” you begged him, eyes opening to meet his own that were looking intensely along your body. he gave you a serious smile and nodded his head, “you can cum then baby, let it out, since you asked so nicely.” and that’s all it took for you to clench around him, feeling your whole body spasm. your legs were begging you to close but you couldn’t, because richie’s hips were in the way, keeping you spread out. 

richie still hadn’t came yet, and you could see the determined look on his face while he picked up the pace, harsh and rough ruts against your hips left you moaning again. his hand clenched around your throat and you breathed out shakily as best as you could, his other hand pushed your leg up. this exposed a new angle and made him push even deeper into you. his thick cock stretched you out more and more with every thrust, your aching pussy so sensitive from your first orgasm. the base of his cock pressed against your clit and you knew you were going to cum again. 

right as his thrusts started to get more erratic and out of rhythm from his previous ones, you were cumming and clenching again, making him spill inside you with a moan of your name. “you took my cock so well,” richie muttered out, groaning while his hot spurts stayed inside you, only a few drops spilling out while he pulled out of you. his hand left your throat and he left you, coming back into your line of vision with a towel in hand. richie wiped away all the cum he could that was slick in between your thighs, mixing with the sweat and your own arousal.  each of you were breathing so heavily, it was as if neither of you had decided to breath during that entire time. 

too enticed by the idea of fucking each other. 

he grabbed your panties and tank top, giving you them and helping you get into them. he pulled up his boxers and gave you a look, wondering if you wanted him to stay or not. you looked up at him and grabbed his arm, not letting him leave your room for the time being. 

“if you’re going to fuck me that hard, you need to give me cuddles afterwards.” you giggled, making room for him to lay beside you. you cuddled into his side, pulling the covers over each of you. 

“I just wasn’t sure if you wanted to get into the complicated stuff,” richie said. 

you cocked your head to the side. “the complicated stuff?”

“yeah. like the fact that I have feelings for you. a lot of them.”

you smiled, leaning up and kissing him on the cheek. “then I'll spare you the explanation, yeah? I like you too, richie. a lot.” 

you liked him too. richie felt his heart start to beat more rapidly inside of his chest. he turned and wrapped his arms around you, kissing the top of your head, humming contently.

[owlespresso]

royal treatment / emet-selch

Consort!Reader/Solus zos Galvus My ko-fi is still open for donations. I write headcanons and drabbles in exchange for donos. https://ko-fi.com/owlespresso Commissions are also open! https://owlespresso.tumblr.com/post/186937812263/commissions-are-open  SPICY CONTENT below the read more. You have been warned.

The scent of rich incense curls into the air and twines around your robed form as you navigate the royal chambers. Quietly do you tiptoe around the grand canopy bed and the plush leather couches. In the distance, the entrance to Solus’s personal bathing chambers stands. It’s slightly ajar, steam curling into the air from the slight crack, hinting that it’s in use.

It seems Solus wants you to bathe with him, tonight. As the emperor’s constant companion, you are accustomed to seeing sides of him that he reveals to no one else… including his unabashed nudity.

Does he long for a more sexual touch tonight? Or will he simply be satisfied by the lone press of your bodies together.

A thrill shocks up your spine as you near the door, gently pushing them open. 

Steam already rests heavy in the room, obscuring your vision momentarily. Its moist warmth settles against your skin. The smell of sweet roses and chamomile clings to the air and floods your senses. One of his highnesses’s favorites.

The chamber is wide and composed mainly of stark, white marble. A hollowed out, square space in the center acts as the main bath, flooded with crystal clear water. Pillars stand firm on either side of the tremendous room, thick and engraved with intricate, decorative patterns. 

Red and pink petals drift aimlessly over the bath’s surface. A small station to the right holds shelves of towels and toiletries, as well as a rack to hang one’s robe. A table resting in the corner hosts a bevvy of drinks to pick from. Had you been alone, you likely would have perused the selection. 

“And here I was, thinking you forgot about little old me.” The emperor’s voice rings soft and sultry over the open space. He rests against the far edge, elbows resting atop the finely cut marble. The muscular stretch of his torso is held above the water, ilms of perfect skin on full display. He is a man chiseled from only the finest of stones, every curve and sharp plane honed to strict perfection. Though his years on the battlefield have long passed him, it’s clear he still takes care of himself. 

It’s a devotion you can’t help but admire. 

“I could never,” you insist gently, a smile curling the corners of your lips upwards. Just the sight of his bare chest is titilating to you, finally freed from its usual prison of the royal regalia. The thick, flowing garments that usually cover him from head to toe are mercifully absent, letting you know you’ll be able to enjoy his company to the fullest, tonight. “I hope you’re well, my lord.”

You shrug your shoulders, allowing your silken robe to slide from your body and collapse to the floor, a puddle of sleek fabric. You’re completely bare underneath it, nipples already hard, cunt beginning to moisten in anticipation for what’s to come.

“As well as one can be after a long day of dealing with the oh-so-noble court,” he sighs languidly and rests his chin atop the back of his fingers. “I fancied my days on conquering and bloodshed to be over, but perhaps I should bring the troops down south to conquer the rest of Corvos. T’would be a splendid excuse for a vacation.” His gaze drags over the stretch of your body, lingering on the curve of your hips and the soft curve of your chest.

“An invasion as a vacation?” you inquire with a raised brow.

“A vacation in comparison to the dry monotony of conversing with rich fools.” Solus huffs out a laugh.

“Perhaps you should give yourself some time to relax before you commit to that plan,” you say with a soft smile, wading into the warm depths. The water sloshes around your waist, a few of the crimson petals sticking to your skin. “Allow me to help you to relax. It’s the least I can do after all you’ve been put through, today. I imagine count Flavius really put your nerves through the wringer. He was ranting for hours yesterday about the new taxation policy, like he doesn’t have enough money already.”

Upon your approach, he moves from his lofty, lounged position. The water shifts around his steep form as he steps in your direction, arms outstretched. You steer yourself immediately into his embrace, hands resting atop the broad stretch of his chest. The smell of rose water tied with natural musk surrounds you, all too familiar and comforting. 

“As much as I appreciate your willingness to serve your emperor, I would much rather take the lead this time round. Let us use this time to unwind… and wash away the wretched stench of countess Leonus’s perfume.” He wrinkled his nose, eyebrows furrowing into a scowl. His lips set into a pout which you were unashamed to admire as cute. 

He shakes his head as though to clear the memory of it, reaching towards a porcelain dish perched close to the ledge of the bath. He grasped a pale soap bar, meticulously cut into the shape of a rose. The needlessness of it made the corners of your lips curl into a wry smile. Every piece, every belonging was touched by the wealthy’s incessant need to make every object in their house unique and ornate.

He pays no mind to it, instead lathering up his hands as you finally come to stand before him.

“Please, take a seat.” A soapy hand presses against the small of your back, urging you into his lap. You rest upon his thighs, hands perched atop the broad curve of his shoulders. Though this is a dance you knew the steps to, you could not suppress a sharp intake of breath, nor could you fight the sheepish warmth that coalesced in your face. His gaze, keen and searching, roamed from your eyes to your chest, making a grand sweep over your top half. “Truly a sight to die for.”

He emphasizes his point by bringing his hands over your chest, calloused palms and fingers rubbing against your sensitive nipples. They raise to firm peaks within mere moments. Your eyes shut, lips parting around a soft gasp. He leaves white suds in his wake, spreading the sweet scent across your skin. 

“Idle flattery will get you nowhere, your radiance.” Your voice comes out shakier than you’d like it. His flattery, you immediately come to find, will get him wherever he wants to be.

“Oh? Is that why you’re already putty in my hands?” he says with a scoff, giving your hips a pointed squeeze. At this point, it’s more about teasing you than washing you clean. You bathe before your nightly visits to him, he knows this well, and has likely memorized your schedule for the lone purpose of teasing you at the most optimal times.

“Guilty as charged,” you acquiesce with a little laugh. You can already feel the slick gathering hot and heavy between your thighs, cunt drenched with your anticipation. “I can’t hide anything from you, your radiance.”

“At last you realize how futile it is to try and hide from your emperor,” Solus presses kisses up and down the expanse of your throat. There’s no doubt he notices every subtle twitch, every little noise you make. The water sloshes around your midsection as he urges you further atop his lap. The tip of his hardened cock kisses the softness of your cunt. 

His palms slide to cup your bottom, fondly squeezing each cheek. His thumbs caress the supple skin in slow circles, another sensation to add to the blossoming pile of them. It’s a series of delicate but purposeful touches that leaves you breathless and wanting, those long fingers mapping your sides and worshipping your body. No ilm is left unattended, your body relaxing muscle by muscle as he descends upon you. 

Any and all prospects of getting clean are washed down the drain as you lose your common sense to lust, eyes shutting, allowing yourself to get caught up river’s torrent. He’s the pull of the tides, the twining of the dark water around your legs, tugging you towards the soft soil at the bottom of the stream.

“Solus,” you sigh, fingers running through lush, ebony locks. You pull on the strands ever so slightly, feel an inkling of satisfaction as he softly moans against your collarbone. 

“Mmm?” he purrs in response. His long fingers curl around your right breast, giving it a pointed squeeze. Your back arches instinctually, gaze lifted towards the domed ceiling. His lips dance across the other, tongue rasping over your other nipple. He gently teases the firm bud with his teeth, before his lips wrap around it. The molten beginnings of your pleasure lap at your seated form, toes and fingers curling at the growing intensity.

He gives it a firm suck, the light press of teeth tearing a surprised gasp from you. He plays at the other with long fingers, squeezing and twisting it. He grants you no reprieve even as he releases your breast with lewd pop.

“Whatever is it that you want from me, my lovely? I cannot give you what you want unless you tell me.”

“Fuck me,” you plead, warm breath brushing against his ear. The shiver that rolls down his spine in response does not escape you. The tips of your nails run over his shoulders, causing goosebumps to spread over that vulnerable, pale skin. You every trick, touch him everywhere you can in order to elicit more of a reaction. If you know anything about Solas, it’s his unfortunate penchant for teasing. And at this point, when your mind is solely on pleasure, you’ll do anything to speed the process up.

“No, no,” he coos soothingly, “You’ll get your satisfaction later, my love. But for now, allow me to savor the privilege of your company.”

“All the flowery language in the world won’t satisfy me as much as your coc—” you feebly begin to reprimand him, in the middle of your weak scolding, he made a pointed roll of his hips. The heated length of his cock rolls exquisitely along your sodden folds. The sudden jolt of pleasure made your head loll back, a gasp wrenched from your weak throat. 

“Why waste your time on words when you could be making such beautiful noises for me?” Solus croons mockingly, his touch wandering back up to your chest. Calloused hands press to your hardened nipples, the course texture making your back arch all over again, too winded to offer a competent reply.

There’s little else you can do but squeal and croon and writhe atop him.

“There we go. Was that so hard?” he spares you no quarter, the honey-coated words striking hardest when you have almost no way to retort. His fingers find home between your legs, beginning to tease your arousal-slicked cunt. He barely presses into your entrance, eyes shut, head tilting to the side as you roll your hips. The hand not pulling pulse after pulse of arousal from the crux of your legs spans across the full size of your hip, holding you in place.

He drinks his fill of you, kiss after greedy kiss pressed to your soft lips. He pries your pleasure from you, works your body as a master musician works a violin, fingers dancing along thin strings. Your clit twitches with each fine note of pleasure, working you towards a warm release despite his intention to draw it out.

As though sensing the incoming climax, his touches halt. 

“Solus!” you near scream, fixing him with an incredulous stare. Your hands feebly press to his shoulders, your bottom lip caught underneath your teeth. Your hips immediately begin to wiggle and squirm, desperately attempting to grind atop one of his broad thighs. “Please, can we—”

“Hush, sweetling,” Solus cajoles, fingertips dancing up and down your sides. “You’ll receive your pleasure in due time. Bear with me until then. Trust that your beloved emperor will take care of all your needs.” 

How can you not, when he dominates you so sweetly? A shudder rolls up your spine, eyes sliding shut as you melt into his touches and embrace. He completes you, builds you up and tears down when he sees fit, a splendid cycle you immerse yourself in completely. 

It’s impossible to tell how long you spend in the baths. Your world zeroes down to him and him alone. 

He teases you to near orgasm at least twice more, leaving your pink folds agonizingly sensitive. Your cunt twitches when his fingers tease your inner thighs. Had the warm waters not surrounded your lower half, your cunt would have been utterly soaked with your juices. Your chest heaves up and down with each heavy breath, your torso slick with sweat.

“You’ve done so well,” Solus praises. His hands wander downwards, long fingers pressing to the soft flesh of your ass, urging your legs around his waist. Your heels press to the small of his back, weak arms clinging onto him for dear life. “A pitch perfect performance.”

The head of his cock presses snuggly against your sodden folds. It’s enough to coax another moan out of you, made to sing for his majesty as he makes the long slide in. His thick member throbs against your walls as he splits you open. His girth leaves not an inch of you wanting, pressing against every nook and cranny that demands his attention. He fills you to the brim, satisfies you in a way no man ever has or will again.

Tears blur the pale creams and yellows of your surroundings as he takes you. 

“Oh, what are those tears for?” Solus taunts. Plush lips brush against your wet cheeks. Fondness drips from his voice, a hand wandering south. “Are you really so desperate for release? You poor thing.” His voice curls with mock sympathy, as though he hadn’t driven you to this state in the first place. You have half a mind to tell him as much, but the sudden rock of his hips knocks the coherency out of you.

“Is that better?” His long fingers span the length of your hips, squeezing the flesh underneath his palms.

“Do you really have to ask?”–is what you want to say, but all you can manage is a hasty nod. Your eyes fall shut as he begins a sharp, relentless pace. The gentle caution he had spent so long teasing you with vanished in a mere moment, replaced by the domineering emperor foreign territories had grown to hate and fear. Each thrust is consummated by a new, overwhelming wave of pleasure. Your orgasm is brought closer at a faster rate thanks to prior teasing, made putty and limp in his hands.

Finally, at last, your orgasm washes over you. The space behind your eyelids goes bright white, your body trembling and writhing helplessly against the broad stretch of his chest. Your nails feebly catch against his snowy skin, blindly scrambling for purchase.

He fucks you through it, because of course he does. There’s not a drop of mercy to be found within his ragged thrusts. His hot breath brushes against the shell of your ear in the form of pants and growls, for even he cannot keep his veneer of kingly arrogance. He loses his rhythm, his hips jackhammering into your center. He blindly seeks his pleasure, and in a few moments, he finds it.

His hot essence coats your walls, cock hitting the deepest point inside of you. The sheer sensation of it makes every of your limbs quake, wrenches a gasp from your scream-raw throat. 

Silence settles between you, besides your own haggard panting. You pull breath after breath into your weary lungs. You haven’t even regained your bearings when he begins to stand, arms wrapped around you tight. The cold stings against your lower half as he lifts you from the water, easily stepping out of the bath from the elevated bench.

“Twas a grand performance,” he murmurs into your hair, pulling back to press a delicate kiss to your forehead. “I would say you’ve earned your fair share of rest. Allow me to take care of the cleanup.”

Easy, you think to yourself, thumping your head to rest against his shoulder. Your eyes shut, and the fatigue that has settled among inside your limbs drags you into a state of light dozing.

[billhaderlovebot]

beep beep (5) - richie tozier.

@ceruleanrainblues @the-star-above-you @a-second-hand-sorrow @shockwavee @socially-unaccepptable-dameron

the usual sexy stuff and swearing and weed. y'all know the drill.

"i've never been... uh... good at the whole, um, serious thing. but, this is us. this is... our wedding. and i put real effort into this shit. so, get ready, fuckers, because this is a real tearjerker. um, yeah. okay..."

you honestly hadn't trusted richie to write his own vows, but neither of you had wanted them to feel... artificial. you wanted them to be your own. and now he was standing before you, holding your hands in his and tearing up already. big softie.

he had also teared up as you walked down the aisle on wobbly legs, mike on your arm.

"we were... we were owed more time, i think." richie lamented. "we should have done this years ago. i should have married you years ago."

---

richie had known, for a long time, that you were the one he would marry.

it was 1993, and the sun was setting over sleepy little derry, giving the quarry an orange-pink glow and bathing you all in its warmth.

you were all pruning up a little, and it wasn't as warm as it was when you'd come down a few hours previously, but summer was coming to an end, and you wanted to make the most of your last couple weeks of freedom with your favourite people in the world.

richie watched as you sat in the shallows, taking a hit of the sizeable joint between your fingers. you exhaled loudly, leaning your head back toward the watercolour sky.

shades of blush pink and peach and apricot illuminated your skin, the low sun setting a warm glow across the water, and oh, god, he was in love.

you laughed, loud and beautifully obnoxious, at something stan had said, passing him the joint and wiggling your legs in the water. your laugh just so happened to be the losers' favourite sound in the whole world, as it was one of those wonderfully infectious laughs you can't help but laugh along with.

richie had always tried to make you laugh in the hopes that you'd like him, but when you did laugh, he found himself falling in love.

eddie watched on in disapproval, sitting cross legged on the bank behind you.

"when you get lung cancer i will laugh and i will spit on your grave." he grumbled, but took the joint anyway when it was passed back around to him, just as enthusiastically as the rest of you. perhaps he was trying to protest in hopes that it would lessen the guilt he would feel later as he frantically sprayed himself with deodorant to get the smell out, and applied the emergency eyedrops he had bought.

ben, bev, bill and mike were in the middle of a very intense game of chicken. beverly had toppled off of mike's shoulders at least twice, but she had pushed bill back into the water more than four times, shrieking with laughter as, arms flailing, he disappeared under the surface of the lake.

"rich! c'mere." you had caught sight of him and held out your arms in his direction, making cute little grabby hand motions toward him. the look of utter joy on your face warmed him from head to toe, and he smiled as he swam over, dodging bill, who had once again been knocked into the lake by bev. ("stop being such a little bitch, billy.")

you came to meet richie halfway, leaving stan and eds to finish the joint and sinking into the water up to your neck. you immediately attached your lips to his, running both of your hands through his hair because you were stoned and everything felt better under your fingertips.

kissing him was like... a whole other plane of existence. you were joined at the lips, joined at the heart. the sun was going down and it was getting cold, and you were both shaking, and he noted the way you tasted of smoke as he kissed the life from you, the water rippling against his chin. you groaned quietly, and richie smiled into the kiss, ignoring everyone else's exasperated groans because ugh they're making out again ew look at them they're so disgustingly in love.

"you're both whores!" stan all but screamed, and you flipped him off, kissing richie all the more enthusiastically.

and richie broke away just to look at you.

the sun, now casting a deep orange-red light behind you, was almost set, and you were beautiful.

the quiet "hi, babe." that tumbled from your lips made him feel as if everything was right with the world, and, then, staring at you, drinking you in, in all your red-eyed, swollen-lipped, soft-grinning glory, like he was seeing colour for the first time, he knew that if he didn't marry you he would probably die.

---

"but now we're here."

richie cleared his throat, his eyes darting around because if he looked directly you he had no chance of keeping it together. "and i have you for the rest of my life. it took a lot for us to get here, too. god knows how we managed to plan all this. thanks, bevvy."

---

eddie was your best man.

obviously.

eddie was your best everything, to be honest, so it was an easy choice while wedding planning. eddie had been the essential third to your group of three ever since you were kids, and he meant so much to richie, and so much to you that you hadn't even had to think about it.

eddie was going to be the best man. that choice was a no-brainer.

all of the other choices, however, were not.

richie and yourself, apparently, were completely incompetent at any sort of planning whatsoever.

you tried, though, you really did.

you got out the big notebook and a pen and richie pulled up pinterest and you had some serious talks about colour schemes and flower arrangements and the like.

well, sort of.

("can we have, like, yknow, like, those worms..."

"worms?"

"like those worms on strings... yeah, those."

"the googly eyes?"

"the eyes.... yeah, and just..."

"hang them?"

"from the ceiling... yeah. "

"richie?"

"yes?"

"i think that's the best idea you've had since i met you.")

but after consuming copious amounts of alcohol, and only having made one useful decision, the two of you decided that you were not in any state to plan your fucking wedding.

("so... s-so if we get- richard, stop trying to take my clothes off- if we get the worms, do you want the pink- rich, i swear- do you want the pink ones or the blue ones...?")

turning off whatever true crime show was playing in the background, you stumbled, leaning against one another, to the bedroom.

"sex?"

"that's the plan."

but any attempt to undress each other only got half way before you were both asleep atop the bedsheets, snoring lightly, an intoxicated tangle of limbs.

the planner notebook you had been using to write down the essentials lay open and abandoned on the coffee table, the only thing in it being one line of richie's chickenscratch handwriting.

it read: set a place for stanley.

---

richie was really, properly crying now, and the only think keeping him from losing his shit was eddie's hand on his shoulder, and your thumb running across his knuckles.

everyone else was crying, too. not a dry eye in the room.

"almost losing you again... so soon after we had found each other... really put shit into perspective for me, yknow? hospitals, um, suck. and i was so pissed... because... fuck, sorry, fuck... i was, uh, pissed, because all i could think was that we were losing time again."

---

(before the sewer fight)

"kiss me." richie's quiet, shaky voice came from behind you, and you whirled around from the suitcase from which you were trying to put together an outfit more suitable for clown killing.

he took you in his arms almost immediately, bending down to kiss you, but the kiss almost scared you.

it was too tense.

there was too strong an edge to the way he held you close, kissing you as if it were the last time.

"what's wrong?" you murmured, centimetres from his lips, your breath ghosting across them.

"i... i don't know if we'll both come out of this." he admitted in hushed agony, kissing you again, slower. "i won't be able to live with myself if something happens to you." richie kissed you again and again, such raw emotion behind each soft crush of lips that he had to swallow the quiet, broken gasps that spilled from you.

"whatever happens," you breathed, running your thumbs along his cheekbones. "i love you."

"show me." he pleaded, red rimmed eyes locking onto yours with such intent that you almost fell over. "please, just-"

"we have to be quick." you said, and he nodded, pulling you into another long, searing kiss. there was a sort of burning desperation to the way his lips moved, now.

richie shifted your shorts down and slid his hands under your thighs, whispering a low "jump" in your ear. your legs wrapped around his waist, and you gasped as your back hit the wall.

"fuck, rich, hurry the fuck up." you mumbled, tilting your head so as to give him better access to the skin of your neck, to which he was already leaving marks.

"okay, baby." and then he was all but tearing off your shirt, immediately exploring the newly exposed skin with his mouth, teeth included. fuck.

"you're such a prick." you hissed.

"and you might just be the most beautiful thing ever to have existed, sweets." said richie, pushing his glasses up his nose and looking at you with dark, dilated, sex-me-up eyes.

"do something about it then." you challenged.

"anything for you, doll."

richie was pushing you so hard against the wall, that you were surprised you didn't go right through the drywall and topple into eddie's room.

you ran your tongue along his bottom lip and he groaned so fucking loud.

"i love you." you whispered the sentiment against his lips, fumbling at his belt buckle.

"i love you more."

---

richie took a moment to compose himself, allowing you to do the same. your eyes drifted about the room. the absence of both yours and richie's families bothered neither of you.

at the front row, the losers and stanley's empty chair, reminded you that they were the only family you'd ever need.

---

"you fucking what?"

"it was an accident!" richie held his hands up in defense, slumping down next to you on the couch.

"richie, do you ever imagine what it would be like if you'd have gotten enough fucking oxygen at birth?" you snapped, raking your hands across your scalp.

"watch it, or no sex." he said.

"i will never have sex with you ever as long as i live unless you uninvite my mother right the fuck now."

"i couldn't say no!" richie was now flapping his hands about in frustration, looking a little like a cartoon character. "she called me up yelling about the divorce and then i told her about the wedding--"

"my life would be so much easier if your dad had just pulled out." you deadpanned.

"--and i didn't know how to tell her she couldn't come--

"we have to change the venue. she's not coming."

"but that's the beach grease was filmed on, babe, there's no way i--"

"richie, if you don't change the venue, i will fucking castrate you in your fucking sleep."

---

it was raining that day, anyway, so a beach wedding wouldn't have been possible. it was okay, though. richie quite liked the little chapel you had picked out, and the coloured light that filtered through the stained glass windows danced across your skin in a way that reminded him so much of quarry sunsets. it was perfect, really.

"we could have had... so much more, yknow? a normal life. but, instead, we grew up in fucking derry... like idiots from some dumb horror book." you laughed at that. so did the losers. you were the only ones who knew what it really meant. "i promise... i'm going to, um, spend every moment of the rest of my life, the rest of however long we have, showing you how much i love you. and i do... love you, that is. every moment of the rest of fucking time, baby, because god knows we've lost enough."

and you kissed him before the priest even said the words, knocking him backwards into eddie.

your first dance was unconventional.

of course.

richie was nervous. he had practiced this dance so many times, with beverly, with eddie, with fucking bill. (that particular endeavour had been a tough nut to crack.) and you pretended you didn't know, for his sake, because he had tried so hard.

his hands shook as he positioned them on your waist where beverly had taught him.

"i can't dance, babe." he snorted.

"i know you can't." you giggled, kissing his cheek.

you held him close to you, blinking back tears as the first chords of billy joel's vienna drifted quietly from the speakers in the corner.

richie lay his head on your shoulder, murmuring the words softly in your ear and pressing light kisses to the soft skin under it.

about halfway through the song, you realised you didn't actually know how to dance either, which was a relief to him. whatever you ended up doing had to have been acceptable, because, once again, everyone was sobbing.

bev cried, mike cried, ben cried, bill cried. eddie shoved almost his entire hand into his mouth to stifle his tears, because there was no way in fuck richie was seeing him cry.

richie would sooner find himself down in the sewers again than admit it, but he could carry a damn tune.

when the song faded to its soft end, the two of you didn't move for several more seconds, eyes gently closed, foreheads together. (admittedly, richie was quite a bit taller than you, and to lean down a fraction.) it seemed almost wrong to open your eyes and join the rest of the world, but the losers' over-enthusistic applause and cheering pulled you both from the trance as they drowned out everyone else.

"you're beautiful." richie whispered, and your eyes snapped open. you had a feeling he wasn't just talking about your dress. eddie, of all people, had helped you pick it out, following you around the wedding dress outlet centres, hissing profanity at the disheveled women who got in his way and muttering furiously about how he'd sterilise the fuck out of whatever you chose to buy.

"you're beautiful." you sniffed, wiping your watery eyes and pulling him down to kiss you softly.

"why are you two like that?" eddie whined when you sat down at the table you'd put them all on. he was only half joking.

"it is their wedding day, eds." bev shrugged, remembering how gross her and ben had been at their own wedding a few months previously.

"what can i say?" you arranged the skirt of your dress comfortably around you before slinging your legs over richie's. "richie's a whore."

the rest of the party was... eventful.

most notably, the losers club's exclusive, very enthusiastic (and frankly quite dangerous) group dance to uptown girl in which your shoe ended up across the room in the wine cooler on the table you dubbed "friends from work" and bill and mike accidentally threw eddie half way across the room at the final chorus.

there was also the matter of richie and yourself insisting on recreating the "come on eileen" dance from the perks of being a wallflower, but then not remembering any of the moves. losers club exclusive group dance part 2 ensued.

eddie's best man speech was a wreck, mainly because he was absolutely bladdered.

("trash-mouth... trash-mouth fuckin tozier got the girl. nobody thought it would ever happen, i mean ever-")

---

(6 months after the wedding.)

"are we gonna pretend we have kids?" you pondered, crumpling the empty juice pouch in your hands and tossing it onto the steady-growing pile in the corner of the living room. "or are we just going to have to own up to the fact we drank twelve boxes of capri suns between us this week?"

a quiet slurping noise came from beside you as richie drained his own capri-sun, throwing it onto the pile with a flourish of his arms.

"i think that they've come to expect this of us." he said, shifting your legs out of his lap and standing up to answer the door.

"alright!" you heard him call down the hallway, as who you assumed was bev began pounding the doorbell aggressively.

and then the door swung open, and you heard a chorus of cheerful greetings and borderline yelling. ah, your best friends.

the losers came over to the tozier residence almost weekly for drunken antics and the spilling of long overdue tea.

"MRS TOZIER!" mike hollered jovially, bill in tow. they'd been seeing more of each other recently. none of you were able to miss how mike looked at bill when bill wasn't looking. it was how beverly and ben looked at one another, and how you looked at richie every morning you woke up to his face, and all throughout the day when he wasn't looking, and even when he was looking.

"MIKEY!" you yelled back with equally as much gusto, stretching your arms out for a hug, which he gladly returned.

"novelty not wore off, yet?" mike asked, gratefully taking the capri sun you offered to him as he settled next to you on the couch. "you've been married long enough, realised you don't love him yet?"

"oh yeah, no, this is purely a marriage of convenience. he's not that ugly, and i get laid like every day, and all i have to do is pick up his socks and share a bed with him."

richie wasn't impressed, storming back into the room in front of bev, ben and eddie.

"hey, um, ok, well, i actually am having a passionate affair with ben, and, ben's fucking hung. so, there."

richie slumped on the other side of you, grabbing you and blowing a raspberry on the side of your neck.

"seriously, bitch?" you whined, but you wrapped your arms around him all the same.

eddie bustled over to the towering pile of capri-sun packets, a plastic refuse bag in hand that you assumed he'd just pulled from his fanny pack.

"you guys are disgusting." he shoved the packets into the bag with unnecessary force. "you fucking deserve each other."

"tell them why we got kicked out of the drive-in theatre last week, rich." you smirked, leaning into your husband's side. he cleared his throat.

"i, uh..."

"tell them." you pressed.

"we saw titanic-" richie started, quietly, keeping his eyes fixed on the wall in front of him.

"oh, god." eddie groaned, storming out of the room in search of a recycling bin.

"-and i, uh... was yelling diving scores as they, uh, jumped off the boat."

"for fucks sake, richie." ben sighed. beverly was borderline cackling. mike and bill just looked disappointed.

"it's not my fault!" richie whined. "my beautiful wife was the one who insisted we recreate the sex scenes as they happened. hand on the window and everything."

"the toziers, everyone." eddie came back into the room, sitting on the ground on a beanbag near the coffee table. "you two should never have been allowed near each other."

"ah, but we were." you chimed in. grabbing richie's face and kissing him obnoxiously. "what say we get piss-drunk and, like, play dumb drinking games. for old times sake?" you suggested when you tore yourself from him, your lips separating with a wet pop. "it's been a while."

---

1993

"what's up, fuckers." you threw up a casual peace sign as you descended into bill's smoke-shrouded basement, stumbling slightly down the stairs and sitting between richie and stanley in the circle that the losers had formed.

richie immediately attached his lips to your neck, pulling you into his side.

"hello to you too, trash-mouth." you grinned. richie looked fucking good.

he'd only gone and got his septum pierced the day before, and you were wary at first, but the little silver horseshoe ring that hung between his nostrils now looked amazing, glinting in the low basement lights. richie wore a deep red, oversized, cable-knit sweater that you could have sworn was yours but you'd smoked a huge joint on the way here and weren't too sure. a black beanie sat on his head, a few errant curls poking out by his forehead and around his ears.

"you're hot." you mumbled.

"you're hot." he grinned against your neck, and lifted his head to kiss your lips, his glasses bumping against your nose.

"yo, whores, truth or dare." beverly said, throwing back about half of the bottle in her hand, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"i fucking hate this game." richie hissed, leaning against your shoulder, sulking.

"truth." you said.

"what's richie's biggest kink?" she leaned forward in the circle, her tongue poking out from between her teeth.

"beverly!" richie was not amused.

"he's really into hair pulling." you sniffed, taking a blunt from between stan's fingers.

"babe!" richie exclaimed. you exhaled in his face.

"is he loud?" bev asked, leaning to take the joint from you.

"BEVERLY!" richie was shouting, now, throwing his hands up in frustration.

"oh, yes. he is." you nodded, grinning from ear to ear.

"FUCK!"

"a bit like that, actually."

"this is actual abuse." richie put his head in his hands, edging away from you.

"i love you." you tried, tugging on his sweater and leaning against him.

he had crawled into stanley's lap at this point, curling up like a baby.

"i fucking hate truth or dare." richie sat up and reached for another bottle, allowing you to wrap your arms around him.

---

most of the losers were asleep, curled up in various, not so comfortable looking positions on your couch and beanbags and weird hanging egg chair thingy that you'd insisted on buying.

"where did you come from, babe?" richie sighed, snaking his arms around your waist from behind as you brushed your teeth. "you're fuckin'... perfect."

one thing richie had always remembered, if a little vaguely, was your smell. the smell of sleep and fabric softener and your shampoo. his memory hadn't done it justice, he decided. when he took you in his arms in the chinese restaurant and inhaled deeply as if it were his last breath, filling his lungs with the smell of you and trying to sear into his brain the memory of how you felt inside his arms. because he would forget again, surely.

he hated himself for forgetting you.

"we're married, rich." you pointed out, rinsing your toothbrush and dropping it into the holder. "you're not too bad, yourself."

"i mean it, though." he muttered, pressing the softest of kisses to your jaw. "you're so fuckin'... doll, i, fuck-"

"don't go all shy on me, babe." you teased. "come to bed, yeah? im cold."

he watched as you shuffled off to your shared bedroom, doing that thing you always did when you stretched, making an unnecessary amount of noise. he smiled. that's my baby.

"hey, rich." another voice came from behind him. at the door of the bathroom, small and tentative.

"oh, hey, eds." richie smiled, taking his own toothbrush from the one next to yours, continuing the conversation through the mirror. but there was a somewhat uncomfortable silence in the small room, made worse by the hollow rattling of the toothbrushes.

"i, uh..." eddie shifted his weight, leaning against the doorframe. "i, uh... gotta tell you something, rich."

"knock yourself out, eddie spaghetti."

"im getting a divorce."

"oh, yeah? good, she was a fucking-"

"im with someone. a guy."

"a guy?"

"yeah. his name is, uh, richie, as it happens. well, richard, but, yknow."

"eds-"

"i loved you." eddie blurted. quiet. barely there. "for, uh... so long."

"you-"

"when we were kids. and, and i... you were never out of my head. not for one fucking second. and my mom... god, my fucking mom, she knew. i think she knew. every time you came round she made sure to scrub me a little harder. the soap burned. fuckin, i don't even know, some carbolic shit, or something. but... it was always her, wasn't it? you and her, um, you loved her and you continued to love her for... for fucking ever. and i wanted it to be me, rich."

richie was almost choking on his heart.

"eds, you know i-"

"no, actually, i don't."

"well i-"

"im not... bitter. if that's what you think. because i think the world of her. she's... my best friend, i would do anything for her, rich. and it wouldn't have made sense for you to end up with anyone else.

and im not... pining anymore? this was uh, what i needed. and im with someone, and he loves me, and i love him. so much, i do. and i love... you... and her... "

"eddie, i loved you too, yknow."  richie muttered. the words hung in the air between them like the sword of fuckin' damocles.

"you did?"

"yeah. course i did."

"well, fuck."

"yeah. fuck."

"can i-" eddie held out his arms.

"yeah.",

richie was so used to hugging smaller people that it was natural to rest his chin on eddie's head, enveloping him almost completely. he noted how eddie gripped his shirt a little tighter than was probably necessary.

"you gotta let me meet this guy, yeah?" said richie, muffled against eddie's hair. "you're, like, small and shit. so i gotta make sure he won't break you or something."

"okay, rich." eddie laughed quietly.

when they broke apart, something had changed. there was closure. eddie could go back to his loving boyfriend and richie could go back to his wonderful wife and it was okay. all of it was okay.

it was okay.

---

"g'morning, doll." you had woken up to richie going to town between your legs. which was, um, always a good time.

after he had finished, wiping his lips, wiping you from his lips, he mumbled the term of endearment lowly into your ear, kissing the spot just underneath it, and you almost grabbed his head and pushed him back down there. however, it was cold, and he was warm, so you melted against him, pulling his arm over you.

"hey, baby." you weren't sure if the words had come from you, because you were floating. and half asleep. but they must have done, because richie kissed the back of your neck and pulled you closer to him, if that was possible. "what time is it." you continued, yawning.

"uhh, like, nine." he yawned back.

"ew."

"i know."

"why did you- and not that i'm complaining, because that was great- why did you wake me up, you fucking insane person."

"because they all left, and woke me to tell me they were leaving, and then i was awake, and you weren't, and i was bored, and i wanted to wake you nicely."

"mission fucking accomplished." you sighed, a sleepy grin spreading across your face. "but can we go back to sleep, now?"

"yeah."

"love you, stinky." you mumbled.

"love you more."

[agoodgoddamnshot]

Karma - Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak

Everything is good. Everything owed to him is being repaid – that’s how he likes to look at it. He’s married. A couple of kids. A nice house in Greenwich Village. It’s all so domestic, he could be sick. But he’s happy. And after taking stock of his entire life for the better part of the night, he’s come to the conclusion that he fucking deserves that happiness, thank you very much Universe.

[GIF isn’t mine. Originally posted by nonartblog]

It isn’t a nightmare that wakes Richie up: which isn’t a first, but it’s not entirely common either. His therapist would be proud. In the past couple of months, nightmares have become less and less frequent. He’s been able to sleep through the night without the need to take anything beforehand. And honestly, that’s all he ever asks for.

It’s five in the morning. He glances to the digital clock sitting on his bedside table. It blinks back at him for a moment before the next minute ticks over. It’s been like that for a while now; him staring straight up at the ceiling of his room, and every so often, he would look to see if any substantial amount of time had ticked by. And it never had.

What woke Richie up tonight was just his brain wandering. Maybe it’s because his therapist is actually good, and for the most part, lets him ramble on and on in their sessions about anything and everything, but since today’s session, he hasn’t been able to switch his brain off. 

Everything is good. Everything owed to him is being repaid – that’s how he likes to look at it. He’s married. A couple of kids. A nice house in Greenwich Village. It’s all so domestic, he could be sick. But he’s happy. And after taking stock of his entire life for the better part of the night, he’s come to the conclusion that he fucking deserves that happiness, thank you very much Universe.

Everyone else seems happy too. Eddie surely must be: Richie will maintain to the end of his life and then some that he’s the best thing to ever happen to Eddie. And how tightly he’s entwined into Richie’s side right now, buried underneath a heap of blankets in their shared bed, a soft smile curled along his lip, Richie can only assume Eddie is happy. The rest of the Losers have their own lives now. All carved out for themselves and dotted around the country.

And after the lives they had all had, karma was really starting to play catch up in terms of paying them back. Like the universe was saying sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry and kept pushing nice things at them all.

The arm slung over his waist tightens and Eddie shuffles closer. His nose presses into Richie’s neck, hot puffs of steady, constant breath wetting the join of Richie’s neck and shoulder. And Richie’s heart just about grows ten sizes. Eddie had been a brief segment of his session today with the Doc. He always manages to be. But then again, Richie still can’t believe that he’s able to have what he has. He’s able to have it and not feel afraid.

He wants to go back to his younger self, have him stand in front of him, and say “Hey, that thing you’re scared of? Well, listen to me; it’s going to be okay. It’s all going to be fine. The kid you like likes you too, and you’re going to get married, and adopt the cutest little gremlins you’ve ever seen. And that dickhead will insist on getting a Pomeranian just because, but you’ll end up loving it. And he’s going to be angry because that rat with a fro will love you more than him—”

A crackle of noise goes through the air. Turning his head, Richie adjusts his glasses and blinks at the baby monitor sitting next to his clock. It’s quiet for a moment, before the lights ripple again.

On his other side, Eddie hums against Richie’s shoulder. He makes some sort of noise – maybe even a word – but Richie hushes him. “I’ll get her,” Richie whispers, “go back to sleep.”

Eddie slips back under within seconds. As Richie slowly untangles himself from Eddie’s grasp, he tries not to cry at the sight of his husband shuffling into the warm space Richie left behind. It takes every ounce of willpower that he has in him to step away from their bed and not fall back into it. But the monitor’s lights blink again. This time, it’s followed by a static mumble of words. He turns down the volume and goes to see what the problem is.

He puts his hand against the wall and wanders out into the hallway. He’s been awake for a while now, but that’s not to say that the rest of his body is. Stumbling down the hall, by the time he gets to the last bedroom before the stairs, he’s met with a gummy grinning face peering over the railing of a crib. “Whatcha doin’ kiddo?”

Even without the lights on, Richie watches the kid’s face light up and disappear behind two tiny hands. Richie reaches for a small lamp on a nearby dresser. The lancet windows of the room look out on to the street, and although the main city never sleeps, the village is still dozing. And he doesn’t think the neighbours would appreciate having the lights of his house on at this time in the morning. Striding over to the crib, Richie adjusts his glasses. “What’re you doing up, hmm?”

The girl giggles behind her hands. A smile overtakes Richie’s face. If there’s anything that can make him laugh, it’s this kid.

“Come on then, tyke.” Richie fishes her out of the crib and into his arms. She’s a tiny thing, just coming up on three, but she’s still small for her age. They think it’s because of life before them. The social worker explained that she didn’t have the best life: that she could be difficult because of past traumas. And that was when they decided to have her. Because they understood. They could help. They could look after her. She buries her head into Richie’s shoulder, chewing on her closed fist. Richie turns off the light. “Let’s go see what’s on TV.”

She isn’t their only kid. Richie walks past the rooms of two others. But through their slightly ajar doors, he sees that they’re still sleeping: and even if only one of these kids got at least eight hours sleep, then he’ll count that as a win.

Their house is one of the bigger ones in the village. If Eddie insisted on having a big family, then it had to fit in the house. And two adults, three kids, and a small but monstrous dog needed space. Richie walks them both into the living room. It's open planned with the kitchen, and plates from last night’s dinner are still stacked in the drying rack. Richie tries not to groan. Eddie’s going to be annoyed that they weren’t put back: because steadily, he’s turned into that kind of husband, and Richie loves to poke fun at him for it.

Next thing he knows, he’ll be dragged to PTA meetings where Eddie will be throwing hands with Karen and Susan from Soho. And he’d be lying if Richie said that he didn’t plan on Instagram-living it for all of his fans to see.

Under the kitchen island, their little gremlin of a dog is snoring peacefully. As Richie grabs a couple of throws from the back of the main couch, the girl in his arms spots the dog.

“Alfwie,” she waves her hand at the dog. The dog, to Richie’s surprise, actually wakes up. It regards them both for a moment before huffing, and curling back into a ball in his bed.

“Leave Alfie be, Soph,” Richie sets her down on to the couch while he sees what they can watch. TV in the twilight hours is just weird. Reruns of shows he hasn’t seen in decades play, followed by shows that probably shouldn’t have been made in the first place. Richie manages to find an old rerun of Peppa Pig, and settles down with Sophie by his side. She’s managed to burrito herself in a cocoon of blankets.

The TV is quiet, but Sophie must be able to hear what’s going on. She’s content to watch what’s happening. As Richie watches her, he sees her eyelids start to droop, before her head starts to dip. Within a couple of seconds, she’s managed to claw back consciousness and focus back on the TV.

His phone buzzes against his thigh.

Bevvy: So I know why I’m up at 5:08 am, but why are you?

Richie stifles a laugh, making sure that the kid didn’t catch on that he wasn’t watching the TV.  

Trashmouth: Sophie decided that sleeping wasn’t really her thing. We’re watching Peppa Pig now until she realises that she does actually need to sleep.

It takes a minute for a reply to come back.

Bev: Good luck with that.

Trashmouth: So why are YOU awake at this hour?

Bev: Caleb has a fever. I gave him some medicine so just waiting for him to go back to sleep.

Trashmouth: Where’s Haystack?

Bev: Out cold in bed.

Trashmouth: Same with my man...

Bev: They really are useless, huh?

Trashmouth: I mean the sex must be amazing or else we wouldn’t bother.

Bev: Beep Beep, Richie. Kids are present.

Sophie feels that bit heavier by Richie’s side. He glances down at the tiny bundle of blankets, with blond, wild, curly hair sticking out from the top of it. Yeah, he thinks. She’s gonna drop in the next few minutes. As long as Peppa or the rest of her friends don’t suddenly go on some roughhousing adventure, Sophie will fall asleep.

Trashmouth: Well sucks to be you, Bevvy, because I think this kid is on her way to Dreamland.

Bev: Fuck you, Richard. Fuck. You.

And Richie watches her go. He’s learned to wait at least five minutes before trying to move a sleeping child: because sometimes, that child isn’t sleeping, and they’ll wake back up and insist on staying up. But when it’s clear that Sophie is out for the count, he fishes her and her cocoon of blankets back up into his arms.

With the TV turned back off, and an unimpressed Pomeranian staring at them for bothering him at this hour, Richie starts to walk back upstairs towards the bedrooms. His phone buzzes again in the pocket of his sweatpants. With Sophie held firmly in one arm, Richie fishes it out.

Bev: Ben and I need to go to New York for a work thing. Wanna hang?

Trashmouth: Sure! I’ll let the husband know

Trashmouth: Oh my God. We can double-date. I call dibs on Haystack.

Bev: I mean, we can’t get a sitter for Caleb, so the kid is coming with us

Trashmouth: Don’t worry about it. Eddie has a harem of sitters that have all been vetted and screened and interrogated. The kids can have a sleepover here. Nothing is getting in the way of me and Benny Boy having a romantic, candlelit date <3

Richie gently sets Sophie down in her bed. She snuffles for a second, fingers tightening their grip in the front of Richie’s shirt, but he eventually untangles her and she slips back off to sleep.

FaceTime sessions are once every two weeks. In between those, they’ll text and berate each other on social media, and it’ll be to the surprise of everyone that yes, that famous author Bill Denbrough is childhood friends with that comedian Richie Tozier-Kaspbrak, who married a risk analyst called Eddie, who seems to be the source of most of Richie’s new material. And they know that famous fashion designer and women’s shelter manager, Beverly Hanscom – who married an architect, and didn’t he work on that apartment block in New York—

But sometimes seeing each other on a screen isn’t enough. Eddie is the first to greet Ben and Bev when they get to their door. Caleb ducks under Eddie’s arm, offers a quick Hi! before running into the house looking for the twins. He passes Richie on the staircase, fresh off the phone to the babysitter. She’s on the way, thirty minutes out from their house. Just enough time to make sure the kids are settled before they go.

Sophie toddles by his side, hand firmly caught in his. She doesn’t always like when her dads leave, but she likes Megan the Sitter. And hopefully, Richie has been able to ply her with enough promises of that chocolate cake she likes from the bakery on the other side of the Village.

Eddie brings both Bev and Ben into the kitchen. The dog is at his heels, as is usual. Always following and watching, making sure that whoever is in the house isn’t trouble. Then again, Richie can’t imagine a nine-inch tall dog can put up much of a fight.

But Eddie has always seemed capable of defending himself, so maybe Richie should cut the dog some slack.

“There she is!” Beverly spots both Richie and Sophie stepping into the kitchen.

“Aunt Bevvy,” Sophie scrambles over and wraps her arms tightly around the woman’s legs. A high-pitched giggle escapes her as Beverly untangles her arms and hoists her up into her arms.

Eddie slides a beer bottle over to Ben, standing at the other side of the island. “Is Megan on her way?” he asks Richie, uncapping a bottle for himself and his husband.

Richie nods. “She’ll be here in thirty minutes. The trains are apparently backed up.” Sophie is eventually let back down, and as soon as her feet touch the ground, she scampers over to Eddie’s side. Richie hugs Beverly. He nods a greeting at Ben. “So what’s the plan? Are we tearing up the town?”

Ben laughs into his bottle. “The only thing you’ll be tearing at this age is a muscle, Trashmouth.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “There’s a table at Bella Italia booked for eight, and we can go for drinks after that if everyone is game?”

Richie watches his husband comb his fingers through Sophie’s hair. It’ll be a struggle trying to get out of the house without her attached to either of their legs; but that’s a problem they’ll deal with. Probably.

By the time the babysitter comes, Eddie has already explained to her everything that she should do if something happens; the emergency numbers are pinned to the fridge, the kids should be in bed at a certain time, one of the twins could have the beginnings of a cold and there are about seven types of cold and flu mediation in the bathroom cabinets—

Eventually, Richie loops his arm with one of Eddie’s and hauls him down the steps of their house. “Bye Megan!” He calls over his shoulder.

Eddie has some sort of blanket rule across all three of the kids that none of them are allowed to look at Richie’s comedy until they’re eighteen.

It’s a bullshit rule. Richie knows for a fact that even though they’re only nine, one if not both of the twins have definitely Googled something. No kid learns that many swear words in an afternoon; especially since Eddie has tried to rein in the swearing around all of the kids.

But it was pretty funny when Allie caught the left side of her hip against the edge of the kitchen island and yelled fuck in front of both of them.

Richie hasn’t stopped laughing since.

“Can I ask you something?” Eddie asks one day, putting the last of the washed plates back into the cupboards.

Richie blinks. “Sure,” he says. Almost as soon as the word is out, he tries to keep his heart beating at a steady beat.

Eddie dries his hands and turns, leaning back against the countertop. “Do you think...?” His brow furrows in that way it normally does when he’s confused. Or thinking too hard about something. Richie tilts his head. He hasn’t seen it for a while. “Do you think that we’ll...ever be like our parents?”

There it is. Something in his mind whispers. He shakes it off. “What do you mean?” Richie closes the space between them. He stands in front of the other man, fishing out one of Eddie’s hands from his crossed arms. He might have been emotionally stunted at one part of his life; but he guesses that something must have changed along the way. Something Doc must have said switched something in his head, and he’s able to address things better than before. He’ll still crack a joke: that kind of trauma-response doesn’t just go away. But looking at Eddie now, the fear that’s starting to creep back into his eyes, he knows that if he tried to say something funny now he’d get a fist right into the teeth.

“Where’s this coming from, huh?” Richie lets their fingers tangle. “What’s going on in that head, Eddie Spaghetti?”

Eddie snorts. “A couple of bi-weekly sessions with a shrink and you think you’ve got skills.”

Richie shrugs a shoulder. “You’re going to one too, babe.” And Richie is only slightly bitter that Eddie’s psychiatrist is hotter than his. Is it something they’ve talked at length about before? Yes. Is it something that Eddie holds over his head at every available moment? Yes.

Eddie looks down at their hands for a second before sighing. “I don’t know. I just...I guess I look at everything we have and just feel...guilty? I feel guilty. Like we shouldn’t have it. Wait, no. Like I shouldn’t have it.”

Richie’s hold on his hand firms. But he doesn’t interrupt.

A streamline of thought comes rushing out of Eddie’s mouth. Something that has apparently been brewing for a while. “I mean, everything has just been so good in the past couple of years and I just wonder...what I did to deserve it.”

“You got fucking stabbed by an alien-clown-thing, is what.” Richie sighs. “You had a pretty shitty life, Eds. We all did. And you fucking died. You were killed. And when you came back, when we killed that fucking clown, and we hauled your ass out of that place, and you started breathing again outside, that was the start of it.”

Eddie’s frown deepens. “The start of what?”

Richie makes some sort of noise in the back of his throat. “Karma starting to pay us back for everything. And I didn’t believe in that shit until you came back. And when everything after that, when everything was so bad and dark, everything started being good, I thought to myself; surely this is it. Someone Upstairs is definitely paying off some long overdue dues.”

Even in the minimal lighting they have in the kitchen, only used when it’s the two of them and the kids have been spirited away to bed hours before, Richie spots tears starting to form in the corners of Eddie’s eyes. “Don’t you dare cry, dude,” Richie sniffs. “Because I don’t like it when you’re upset.”

“I’m not upset,” Eddie says, tilting his head back and looking up at the ceiling. “I’m just...confused.”

“We’ve both been through so much shit. Well, one of us definitely had it worse,” Richie grins. He takes it as a minor victory when a ghost of a smile ghosts Eddie’s lips. “Don’t you think it’s time we got good things?”

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek. “I suppose.”

Richie frames Eddie’s face with his hands. Brushing his thumbs along his husband’s cheekbones, he doesn’t mention it when he feels a small drop of moisture underneath his thumb. He doesn’t mention that Eddie’s eyes are getting more bloodshot as the minutes pass. “Do you want to call your Hot Shrink tomorrow and talk it out? I can take the twins to school.”

Eddie catches Richie’s wrists. The smile trying to tug at the corners of his lips eventually succeeds to appear. “Nah,” he shakes his head. “I got a free shrink right here.”

Richie rolls his eyes. “Yes, but with Doctor What’s His Name you’ll be getting eye-candy too.”

“You’re hotter.” Eddie slides his hands up Richie’s forearms. “And free.”

Richie balks. “Edward.”

Eddie lifts his chin. “Richard.”

A challenge if ever Richie saw one. “You know,” he says, “if my back wasn’t in a constant threat of being thrown out any second, I’d have carried you to our bedroom already.”

Eddie laughs. A light little thing. “You don’t need to carry me anywhere,” he nods towards the hallway. “Lead the way.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to be carried? You’re so little.”

“I wouldn’t want to explain to paramedics why you’re on the ground with a broken back.”

“I’m sure they’d get a kick out of it.” Richie gapes. “Imagine the headlines? Famous Comedian’s back blown out by his Sexy Husband. There are all kinds of ways to read into it.”

“Oh my God, stop.” Eddie wiggles out of Richie’s hold and walks towards the hall. He glances over his shoulder. “Turn off the lights when you decide to stop dicking around and join me.”

Originally published on AO3

[mymelodyheart]

Forget Me Not Chapter 6 ~Confessions~

She thought about Jamie's kiss, and she couldn't decide whether she was enlightened or confused, excited or frightened with his actions. One thing for sure, she was caught off guard. Not having any previous kisses to compare it to, as far as she was concerned, it was a kind of kiss that made her see fireworks behind her eyelids. She tried to picture Frank kissing her the same way as Jamie did, but the image failed to form in her mind, which made it even harder to comprehend.  Wasn't it Frank she was supposed to be in love with?  It's true, she was infatuated with him, and she carried that belief right through adulthood, convincing herself to this day that she was in love. Until Jamie's kiss. 

Claire had always loved Jamie  as a brother  and more than once, long ago, she had fantasised what it would be like to be with him, only to shove those thoughts to the back of her head as she felt it wasn't right to indulge in such fancy.  What would ma and da think?  All those years, she had vehemently convinced herself that whatever was between them was nothing more than a brother-sister bond, and it had become a mantra she religiously repeated over and over again until she had come to accept it as reality.

"Claire? Ye in there?" The doorknob rattled.

It was Geillis. Claire stood up from her dressing table to open the door. She had locked the door earlier in case Jamie came in. She wanted some alone time after their kiss. "Hey, how was your outing with Willie?"

Geillis brushed past her and plonked herself onto the bed. "Ne'er mind my outing. Sorry to leave ye earlier so abruptly..." She stopped mid-sentence and looked at her friend. She thought Claire looked odd. "What happened Claire? Did Jamie give ye a hard time now did he? I shouldn't have left ye behind earlier but..."

"I had my first kiss..." Claire announced trying to sound indifferent as she sat in front of her dressing table, trying to tame her unruly locks. It was useless hiding anything from her friend because she knew Geiliis would have found out before the evening was over.

"Whoa! Weel, weel... that was rather quick. What did ye dae after I left? Call Frank for a trial run or what? Did ye say to Frank...hey, let's dae a preliminary test and see what needs tweaking."

Claire laughed. "Don't be daft. Yeah, yeah Frank stopped by to handover my phone that I accidentally dropped in the parking lot. But the kiss happened before he came."

Geillis looked momentarily confused, but as the dots began to connect, her eyes widened, her mouth opened, and her dimples deepened. "Noooo! Jamie?"

Claire nodded as heat crept up her face. She was glad her friend was there to confide to since it was hardly a topic she could share with Jenny or Willie. "Erm, as a matter of fact, he continued where you left off. You know...French kiss lesson and all...It happened so fast, and before I knew it, we were kissing."

It was Geillis turn to laugh. "Aah, not so much brotherly now, eh? I'm no' surprised at all. I've seen the way he stares at ye when ye're no' looking...I'm wondering now what took Jamie so long. I think he's in love with ye. I ken the look of love when I see it."

Claire's heart was spasming like a dying fish. "Jesus, Geillis...I haven't had time to wrap my head around what happened earlier, and you're talking about love already. Damn it, why did Jamie have to complicate things?"

"Complicate things?" Geillis leaned back on her elbows on the bed and raised an eyebrow. "Claire, hen, Jamie might have done ye a favour. If you were really into Frank, we wouldnae be having this discussion and that kiss wouldnae mean a thing."

"Of course, it means something. We grew up together, and I've always loved Jamie. He's the best thing that ever happened to me growing up here in Lallybroch. It makes it complicated because of our circumstances."

Geillis snorted. "It's no' complicated. Ye're making it complicated! Ye're in denial because in yer mind ye think Brian and Ellen will be disappointed. Christ, Claire, why don't ye just stop overthinking things and enjoy the ride? As they say, no pain, no gain!"

There was truth in what Geillis was saying, but Claire had a lot of disappointment in life. What she had with the Fraser family was too precious, so why rock the boat to indulge in some curiosity? Although she was well travelled, anything that had to do with matters of the heart was unchartered territory. "Look, let's not discuss this any further. We have a dinner to go to. Shouldn't you be getting ready?"

"Aye, I should," she replied, jumping off the bed. "But before I go, tell me this, did ye enjoy the kiss?"

She smiled secretively. "As a matter of fact, I did enjoy the kiss, and that's what I'm afraid of," Claire admitted shyly. "I'm just hoping it wasn't one-off."

"Listen, Claire...you and Jamie need to talk. I can only give ye possibilities of what it may all mean, but only ye and Jamie have the answer to what ye're looking for. And for fuck sake, let me remind ye again...he's not yer brother, just in case ye have the mind to try to convince yersel' of something that's not." Before Claire could reply, Geillis left the room, leaving her to her own thoughts. She knew Geillis was right...she needed to speak to Jamie.

.........

Putting aside the axe, he headed towards the house. Jenny had booked them a table at the Italian restaurant, and he had a couple of hours to wash and change. He made a mental note to lock the bathroom door before taking a shower. " Or maybe not?"  Jamie thought, smiling to himself with a shake to his head. He was just about to go up the stairs when he noticed the TV room door was open. They had always kept that room shut to keep the warmth in.

Jamie was about to shut the door when he noticed Claire was inside by the drinks cabinet, pouring herself a good measure of whisky. She was dressed in a short grey turtle neck top, and a high wasted black cropped trousers.  No danger of her walking into the bathroom then! Pity!  

"Sassenach? Ye drinking already? Don't ye want to wait after ye've eaten?" With her back to him, he couldn't help but admire her arse, her trousers fitting snugly to accentuate her curves.  Christ, when did she start to have hips like that?  He was so used to seeing her with oversized sweatshirts that it blew his mind to see her wear something that fitted like a second skin.

Claire spun around too quickly, almost flipping to her side. In three strides, Jamie caught her by the elbow, steadying her feet. "Ooh, it's you, Jamie," she murmured. She straightened herself up and offered her glass to him. "Want some?" She rolled her lips inwards, leaving them twice as full when she freed them, reminding Jamie of what it had looked like after kissing her thoroughly earlier.

Damn it!  He took the glass and downed the whisky. "Christ Sassenach, are ye bevvied or what?"

"Of course not, don't be silly. Ummm... actually, I needed a bit of Dutch courage," Claire answered, smiling, pink spreading across her face.

"Seriously, whatever for..?" he rasped, thinking the whisky had to be the reason why he sounded like a wrench scraping the concrete.  A Dhia, she's so beautiful...I need to tell her! It's now or never.

"I wanted to ask why you kissed me earlier," Claire whispered, lowering her voice in case someone might hear, as her eyes darted to the open doorway.

He took a step nearer gazing at her face for the longest time. Claire was no longer a lass on a cusp of womanhood but had grown up to be one damn sexy woman whether she was aware of it or not. "Ye really want to know, Sassenach?"

"Uh-huh, I do," she replied thoughtfully, her eyes crossing as she lowered her gaze to his mouth.

"I don't want to be yer brother nor yer friend any more," he said in a very rough voice. His heart thundered in his ears as he noticed where her eyes were cast.

"Why not? Don't you like me?" she asked softly, her breath warming his neck.

"Och Sassenach, you have a beautiful soul - one that shines out of you from within. How could ye think I don't like ye?" he mumbled gruffly, fascinated at how her amber gaze was fastened to his mouth. "You're beautiful inside and out. And I've told ye that a thousand times before." 

"Then tell me why you don't want to be my friend nor my brother anymore."

Caution crawled his back. He could hear his family going about their business, and anyone of them could walk right in any minute. If he was to confess his feelings, he didn't want anyone walking in. He quickly turned around and closed the door, locking it before turning his attention back to Claire, putting both his hands on her shoulders. "Because there's something I've always wanted to tell ye and I'm tired of keeping it a secret. I haven't wanted to be yer brother for as long as I can remember because..." He stopped, trying to catch his breath. "Because I'm in love with ye Claire. I've waited for a very long time..."

Claire's mouth formed an "Oh" as he cradled the underside of her jaws between his large hands and lowered his lips. After a brief kiss, he raised his head a little to look into her eyes as he waited anxiously for her response.

"Oh, Jamie, why didn't you tell me?" she asked after a moment of reflection.

"Maybe I was waiting for the right time...or maybe I was waiting until ye were old enough."

Her brows furrowed. "Old enough for what? Old enough so you could tell me what you feel?"

"Old enough for this."

His mouth slowly lowered down upon hers, giving her time to step away. But instead, without prompting and to his surprise, their lips touched as she kissed him, her hands clasping behind his neck, pulling him down closer. All those years waiting to pour his heart out that seemed to encompass a millennium suddenly seemed as though it had been no time at all. She tasted of whisky and of something sweet, and it wasn't enough. Jamie wanted more.

Not breaking their kiss, he lifted her up, and her legs automatically wrapped around his waist. Excitement shot through him with the knowledge that she wanted him too. He had been for too long making an effort trying to keep his feelings in check, protecting her from what he desperately wanted to do - until she was old enough to want it and not be terrified by it. But it's not nearly enough, he needed to know.

With a groan, Jamie dragged his mouth from hers and looked into her eyes.

"Don't stop Jamie...kiss me some more," she pleaded, her eyes glazed.

"Under one condition...cancel yer date with Frank," he said huskily, as he teased her by brushing his lips against her cheeks.

"Hmmm, I will, now kiss me...again," she said, tilting her head and offering her lips.

He became undone and kissed her deeply, their tongues engaged in an ancient dance. She met his movements, surprising him with her unexpected enthusiasm. Gently kneading her through the fabric of her clothes, he purposely brushed a hand on the side of her breast, her moans nearly pushing him over the edge.

It's too soon!  Panting heavily, Jamie broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to hers. "I thought I'd go mad waiting for this to happen," he breathed, his eyes shut tight, trying to exercise tremendous restraint. He waited for his heart rate to return to normal before continuing. "But what I need to know is...what are yer thoughts about us, Sassenach? I need to know..."

Claire lowered herself from Jamie but kept her arms around his neck. "Jamie, you've always known that I love you...I said it often enough, have I not?"

"Aye ye did, but it always sounded like..." he winced, "like ye're talking to me as if I'm yer brother...and I'm not."

"No, you're not my brother, I get that now. I don't think I could look at you the same way again after today." She whispered as her eyelids fell to half-mast. "I do love you, Jamie. I think I was using my childhood infatuation with Frank to hide what I felt. I thought I would be betraying your family's trust if I acted on my feelings towards you," she said so low, he almost didn't hear. "I'm scared Jamie...I've never done this before. And I'm most especially scared about what your family will think if ever..."

He tipped her chin up and kissed her nose. God help him, he didn't expect that reply. "Christ, I've loved ye for so long, Sassenach. I never thought ye'd see me in any other way than a brother. Don't worry  mo nighean donn,  my family has always been your family, and they love ye. I don't see why they would think it's wrong for us to love each other."

She reached up to kiss him lightly on his chin, threading her fingers in his coppery locks. "I hope you're right, Jamie. I love them so much, and I wouldn't want to hurt them."

He smiled, releasing his hold and moving back. Jamie didn't want to let her go, but there's a dinner they had to go to. "We'll worry about it later. Come on, we don't want to keep Jenny waiting. I'll just go for a quick shower and change. Later, after dinner, I have something to show ye. A surprise."

..........

Although Italian cuisine was one of Jamie's favourite, his discerning tastebuds as a chef couldn't fault his  Osso Buco Alla Milanese  even when it arrived cold at their table. The  Barolo  red wine Willie ordered, which was his least favourite because of its astringency, tasted fruity and soft. He was too happy to care even if the service was slower than usual. Jamie didn't care either if Willie, Jenny or Ian noticed his attention was focused on Claire for the most part of their evening meal. They would have probably put it down to not having seen her for the last six years. Though he had his suspicions that Geillis might have an idea. He didn't care either way.

All he could think about was Claire, blushing the whole evening whenever he leaned close to her or tried to feed her with  Tiramisu . Surely everyone would have noticed since her face was like an open book, but he didn't care. He wanted to shout out to the world, she was his girl, at last.

Finally, when dinner was over, he excused himself and Claire from joining them for a game of bowling, even though it had been Jamie's idea in the first place. To his surprise, they were both dismissed without much resistance and nagging from Jenny. No doubt, because they both hardly joined in any of their conversations during dinner.

Once they were in a cab, and after Jamie gave the address to the driver, Claire slapped him on the thigh. "Jamie! I was looking forward to bowling. Why did you do that for?"

He grinned. "Quit asking questions and come over here. I was looking more forward to this." Grabbing her by the waist, he pulled her closer and kissed her slowly until she relaxed in his arms. "That's better, Sassenach," he chuckled, breaking the kiss but still holding her close.

"Where are we going, Jamie?" she asked, ignoring his teasing and trying to determine the direction they were going as she looked out the window.

"It's a surprise! I've been meaning to show it to ye ever since ye arrived."

Claire smiled and snuggled closer, his arm holding her tight against him.

When they finally arrived at their destination, Claire couldn't make out where they were as it was very dark and it felt like they were in the middle of nowhere. After paying the cab, Jamie took her hand and led the way down the path. Once they were in front of a house, he withdrew keys from his pocket and instructed Claire to close her eyes. After slipping the key to the door and nudging it open, he guided her through a room, and once he was satisfied, he told her to open her eyes.

Jamie watched as Claire took in her surrounding, a smile spreading across her face. "Oh my God, Jamie, this fireplace is gorgeous. Whose house is this?"

"Mine," he stated proudly. "I bought it a month ago after my mortgage application was accepted. There is still a lot of work to be done, but I'll get there eventually. Da, Willie, Ian and I have been working on it, but I need to wait for other materials to arrive before I can resume work on it." He walked towards her and hugged her from behind. "Do ye like it Sassenach?"

"Are you kidding me? It's gorgeous! Was this a former croft house?" She turned around to face him, her face beaming with pride. 

"Aye, it was uninhabited for three years; hence I got a bargain. It's no' like Lallybroch...it has only three bedrooms, but it'll do for now," he whispered in her ears, nibbling an earlobe and pulling Claire closer to him. "I was hoping, when ye're ready, you could move in with me."

Claire's eyes widened. "Jamie..."

"Weel, it's no' like we haven't lived under the same roof. We're used to each other living in the same house. But like what I said whenever ye're ready. There's nae rush. I doubt it if it will be finished anytime soon. And I promise I wouldna mind ye barging in the bathroom when I'm taking a shower," he grinned wickedly, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Claire sighed. "It's beautiful, and I do love it. You finally have your very own traditional house..."

Their conversation was interrupted by Jamie's phone. Pulling away slightly from Claire, Jamie pulled his phone from his pocket. "It's my ex. I won't answer it," he explained, showing her the screen of his mobile. It was Annalise, his ex-girlfriend from France. They had broken up amicably a few months ago, and he hadn't heard from her since. Jamie wondered why she was calling now.

"Who? Annalise? Answer it, Jamie...I don't mind. I can go to the next room if you wish."

Before Claire could move, he pulled her to him, insisting she stayed before answering the phone. And so she did.

"Annalise, est-ce que tout va bien?"

..........

Claire watched Jamie as his face went through different emotions from surprise to sadness and then to shock as he spoke rapid French with his ex-girlfriend. She had known about Annalise as Jamie had mentioned her before, but had never met her in person. 

As Jamie's face went white, Claire became worried, and she wrapped her arms around his waist. But he pulled away, walking towards the window, one hand massaging his neck as he looked out into the dark. When he finally switched off his phone, Jamie just stood there in silence.

"Jamie, what is it? Talk to me!"

"Annalise was diagnosed with cervical cancer, and it's terminal. She doesna have long to live," he said slowly, unsure whether to continue talking. But when he finally did, his voice stammered. "Sassenach, she's pregnant, and she's not sure if I'm the father or no'. She admitted to having a one night stand after we broke up. She's very frightened and said she needs me."

Claire swallowed hard. She knew Annalise was an orphan like her, but she wasn't fortunate enough with her adoptive family who was abusive and cruel. Trying to be brave, she approached Jamie and touched his cheek. "You need to go to her Jamie. She has no one. I know that much because you told me her story awhile ago. She needs you."

Jamie hugged her tight, not wanting to let go. "No...I need ye Sassenach..." he muttered against her neck.

"No Jamie...she needs you more than you need me. We have to be adults about this. Ma would say the same thing," she said as firmly as she could muster, even though tiny pangs of jealousy were stabbing at her heart. "You go to her, and I'll be waiting for you here."

"Christ Sassenach, come with me, and both of us can help her..."

"No Jamie, da needs me remember...the hotel will be opening soon. And I can't let him down."

Jamie had no words as he knew she was right. The only thing Claire could do as a way of comfort, was to embrace him and try to be strong, hoping and praying for a miracle for Annalise's health and fortitude for Jamie.

[peter-pantomime]

IT Fic Recs

Richie/Eddie

the years go by like days

It’s Eddie he wants to get a hold of, though, and he does, tucking him under his arm, and ruffling his hair, making him laugh. He’s startled when Eddie looks at him with such happy, shining eyes. And, for a split-second, he’s tempted to kiss him right then, right there in front of everyone.

He wants to. Badly. He doesn’t.

He leans in, instead, and he smacks a loud, wet kiss to Eddie’s cheek, punctuating it with a “mwah!” He does it again and again. “I’m so proud of my little Eds Spagheds!”

“Get off me!” Eddie says, laughing and shoving him away, swatting at his hands.

AU. in the 27 years in-between, Richie and Eddie forget a lot, but they don't forget each other.

just be still with me

Eddie Kaspbrak is 38, working as a driver in New York. Richie Tozier is a stand up comic who comes to New York on a one way ticket to audition for SNL, and his agent has hired Eddie as his driver. There's something familiar about Richie, though Eddie knows they've never met. While Richie insists on sitting in the front seat and making something more than small talk, Eddie struggles to maintain professional distance.

Basically - what if Eddie and Richie did forget, and didn't see each other for 25 years, but they fell in love anyways.

If You Believe

What if Eddie held on just a little bit longer? What if the losers figured out how to kill it just a little bit earlier? What if Eddie made it out of Neibolt, injured and barely holding on, but alive?

-

When Eddie emerges from the cavern to see Richie floating, he just about shits himself.

hit me baby one more time

Richie reaches up a shaking hand and puts it on Eddie’s stomach.

“Uhhh,” Eddie says. “Is this a bit? Is this a really inopportune bit? ‘Cause I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Richie, but this is kind of an important moment-”

“What the fuck,” Richie says, not for the first or last time, and lurches forwards to hug him.

(Or, Richie gets stuck in a time loop.)

in the morning

Beverly knows there’s something going on with Richie. The way he had lost it, the way he had cried—she’s not sure if he would ever cry like that for her, or Bill, or even Stan. He had always been particular about Eddie. She pets his hair back again and rests her head on top of his, sighing and closing her eyes. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s more than she thinks. Either way, she’s sure he’ll say eventually. Richie’s never been good at keeping secrets.

This Is the Way It Ends

An AU in which everything is the same, except Reddie disappear to have sex through most of the plot points and Eddie doesn't have to die to save the day.

Love Me Like You Do

“I need you hear you say it.”

“I want it,” Eddie says back. He’s surprised by his own words, how concrete they sound, how they break through the wall of nerves that’s shrouded over him.

Richie, in all of his confident-not-confidence, leans down and kisses Eddie. It’s gentle at first, the rough chap of his lips barely grazes Eddie’s over moisturized ones but the electricity rockets down his spine and bursts into tiny electrodes all over his body. He immediately leans up, chases Richie’s retreating form and captures him in a kiss that Eddie never knew he was capable of giving.

Men of Fall

Do you remember? He watches his own hand slide closer along the armrest. Do memories transfer by touch, in this fucked up magic town? Remember, Richie, please, and tell me I wasn’t imagining things.

put it all aside and hold me tight

"I'm not sad," he lies. He thinks of how his hands had trembled after he'd gotten the phone call from Mike, the foul taste of bourbon and breath mints and his own bile in his throat. Every morning he's alone, even when he isn't. He isn't afraid, except for when he is. And he isn't sad, not really, but he is.

Not that it's any of Eddie's business.

Eddie's gaze feels like it goes right through him. There's little Richie hates more than being read, especially when it's by Eddie — there's always a split second of bone-deep terror that whispers he knows. It's familiar, something that goes way back to childhood. Still just as shit-your-pants terrifying.

Or: After the reunion dinner from hell, Richie and Eddie have a long overdue conversation about, like, feelings and shit.

up off the floor

"In a world where we can kill a fucking clown from space, Eddie Kaspbrak doesn’t get to die from a stab wound."

still it’s so

Beverly screamed when she saw them. Then she covered her mouth with her hands and just stared, tears standing bright in her eyes. Bill stood up so fast his armchair jumped back, and beside him Mike did the same. Ben got up slower, a painfully hopeful look on his face.

“Surprise!” Richie said. “We lived!”

Things that Happen after Eddie Lives

In a world where Richie manages to save Eddie from It after the deadlights, they still have problems on their to-do list. Featuring everything from Derry to Los Angeles—Richie Tozier's murder trial, Eddie Kaspbrak's divorce proceedings, bedsharing of the platonic and non-platonic varieties, an investigation of magic, a truly disgusting séance, the quintessential morosexual road trip, and OH MY GOD THEY WERE ROOMMATES.

swallow your heart

When he’s 24, at least once per night, Richie has what he would describe as an erotic nightmare. He never actually has sex in these dreams, nor does he die or even get seriously maimed. But they’re still definitely erotic, and they’re definitely nightmares.

Prompt: "I swallow your heart and it crawls right out of my mouth."

With a boulder on my shoulder

Feelin' kinda older.

Or, Eddie Kaspbrak has his fifteenth birthday party.

we’ve been migratory animals

As they reach the town limits, he sees the sign up ahead: You are now leaving Derry. A thrill shudders through him — they’re out. Things will be different now, no more deadlight-visions swallowing him up inside. Richie rolls down his window, and before anyone can do more than look at him quizzically, he unbuckles his seatbelt, lifts himself up out of his seat somewhat, and leans out the window to flip the sign off. “Fuck you!” he bellows. The wind whips his hair into his eyes, and he lets out a slightly manic laugh. Then he feels hands grabbing at his shirt, and Eddie is yanking him back into the car.

--

Or, the Losers take a road trip to Florida, and Richie's having nightmares from the deadlights that he can't seem to shake.

if the children don’t grow up

Richie Tozier dreams, sometimes, of heat soaking through the soles of his sneakers from the July tarmac in the town where he grew up, the name of which he can’t quite remember when he’s awake, and of someone small and warm and familiar pressed up against him everywhere.

(Some scenes from a life – Richie and Eddie at 40 and at 13 (and beyond) and at 40 again.)

Richie Tozier Versus The Flu

“His parents don’t take care of him,” Eddie had told Bill, shaking his head, “He’s probably holed up in his room with a flop sweat, and neither of his parents have ever been bothered to help him. We should go see him.”

“G-Go see him?” Bill asked, alarmed, “I d-don’t mind, b-b-but I thought you’d n-never -”

“He’s sick! Richie’s sick, Bill,” Eddie insisted, thinking Bill was not nearly as upset as he ought to be, “Richie’s sick, and no one’s gonna take care of him, if we don’t.”

last ones out

Richie wonders if it’s always been this hard for him to touch Eddie. It hasn’t; they were incredibly touchy as kids, falling all over each other, gangly limbs intertwined. Even as adults, a few days before, Richie had barely been able to keep his hands off of him. Eddie almost dying did something, though. Chipped away at something deep within Richie. From the bed, Eddie laughs.

Talk So Pretty (And Love So Sweet)

Eddie was going to kill him one day, in his lace and crop tops and knee high socks.

Let’s Hear It for the Boy

“Oh, before I forget- keep this one.”

He pulled a tape from his bag that he hadn’t played yet, and Eddie took it with a look of distrust on his face. It had his name scrawled across the label in Richie’s awful handwriting- looked more like it said Edota on it- but the thing that caught his attention was the very obviously scribbled out heart in front of his name.

“Welp,” He snapped his gum again. “I gotta go. See you later, babe. If you miss me when I’m gone, just listen to the tape. Plenty of gushy shit on there.”

June

He can’t handle being alone with Eddie anymore.

He squats next to Eddie, brings their faces close, and he looks at the freckles on Eddie’s cheeks, the familiar chestnut hair perfectly quaffed at his fringe, how long, and thick his eyelashes seem against his sunburnt cheeks.

He wants.

Desperately.

Blood Runs Cold

He wants to say the feeling in his gut is foreign, but the truth is it’s been flowering for years, vines twisting and growing in the pit of his stomach, just waiting for him to open his mouth so they can finally see the sun.

(or a short fic about Richie Coming out to Bevvie while they smoke in his room)

Show Me a Good Time

This wasn’t the first time that Richie had brought Eddie to one of his meetings. Meetings, used very loosely, meaning they were at a restaurant with however many Michelin stars, while his agent talked to him and whoever else decided to show up to the dinner. There were currently about eight of them, Eddie and Richie shoved into the corner of a booth, while someone told a story about their latest stent on tour. Lucky for Richie, the story actually happened to be good, because if not, well, they might have seen just how often Eddie was leaning over to whisper in his ear.

we’re f***ing killing it, babe

Richie has been back in Derry for three days and murdered an Eldritch horror-esque monster from space or possibly from some weird meta-verse, who knows, and faced both of his childhood fears of clowns and his own death, as well as the possibility of losing his first love just as he remembered they fucking existed, he’d like some slack cut for him on the emotional front, thank you!

OR

Eddie is dead, but the Losers carry him out of the house on Neibolt anyway. Which is good, because Eddie is not dead.

Roads

Richie pulls out of the Orient parking lot first, and stares at the headlights of Eddie’s car in his rearview mirror.

The drive back to The Derry Townhouse is short, scary, and not well lit.

“It’s just Eddie,” he tells his reflection, trying to give himself a pep talk, but that’s the problem.

It’s Eddie.

Lakes

Ben holds Bev’s hand as they walk. Richie feels sick with grief, staggering along behind them, carrying Eddie’s dead, heavy body on his back.

Intro // Skydiving

Eddie Kaspbrak is ten years old. It's his first time at the quarry with his friends.

--

The descent feels like it lasts both for a few seconds and for eternity. Free fall is terrifying, but his hand is still latched onto Richie's, and it tethers him, makes him feel like he isn't just lost in space.

soul, I hear you calling

He catches a glimpse of himself, bruise-eyed and unshaven, in the bathroom mirror as he turns to leave, and that's when he sees Eddie Kaspbrak.

"At least wash your hands, you nasty fuck," Eddie says.

"Holy fucking shit," Richie screams.

Eddie comes back, sort of.

[seromreven]

title: every star above knows the one i love.

anonymous requested: “hiii! your writing is truly amazing (go ahead my fried!!) i was wonder if you could write some george x male!reader??”

warnings: eep, an abusive dad and very typical attitudes/phobias for the period.

author’s note: had a mental meltdown, cut my hair, and now i look like one of them e-boys the youths are taking about. or milo from atlantis,  except fat--- oh, hey! look what i wrote. neat, isn’t it?

---

You had first met George Harrison in the summer of 1956. You and your father, who was a colleague and close friend of Harold Harrison, had been invited for dinner at the Harrison’s family home in Speke of where you lived not too far from. You had only ever met the man of the house, Harold, as your dad were accustomed to dragging you along to his place of work- deeming it would toughen you up and learn how to be a proper man. You had just turned fourteen and George was thirteen- something you father had been quick in informing you, telling you to behave and make friends. Something of which puzzled you. You weren’t some ruffian and behaved as well-mannered as the next person in Liverpool so you couldn’t figure out as to why he gave you such a warning. Okay… sure, you had a tendency to be foul-mouthed and blunt but, really, your dad was more to blame than anyone else. He took you to his workplace at the docks! Of course you were going to pick up on the native language of dock workers and sailors and drag it with you home. But you knew well enough from right and wrong in how to behave as a guest. So you bit your tongue and followed him silently lest you wanted a beating come tomorrow morning. You were getting quite enough of that to begin with.

What greeted you as came around the corner to the right address was a modest little council house. And behind its small fence and gate, stood a young boy; around your age, lanky with arms that looked to reach his knees, and with wide protruding ears. You stifled a giggle as he greeted your father with a wide smile and a wave of his paper thin arms. He looked at you with curious eyes and a tilting head as he lead you towards the house, talking a mile a minute. And he had sent… interesting glances your way. Something you couldn’t quite decipher. Maybe it was just curiosity at this stranger entering his home? He didn’t break what was proper and costume and only talked to your father- something told you George’s father had had a talk with him too prior to the dinner. Your father was a hard and disciplined man. No respect for children and hardly any for women too. Your mother had left without a trace years past with your baby sister, and to you, it was no wonder why. You were only mad she hadn’t taken you along. It left your father bitter and cold. And with a bottle of beer in hand, he let the anger that filled him up to the brim out on you. Hell, you were properly going to get a whuppin’ no matter how you behaved tonight. 

The dinner was nothing to write home about, so to say. The Harrison weren’t well off, though neither was your family. It was a nice little catfish with a hearty arrange of potatoes and greens. It tasted well and certainly was far better than what you ever had to make at home for yourself and the old man. After, there was a talk of dessert which excited you but much to your dismay; you were informed that first the adults needed a grown-up chat and sent you along with George and his siblings upstairs. You followed George, silently and close behind him, to his room. It was a tiny thing and all around stood memorabilia that depicted memories and interests of the young boy. What caught your interest the most was the old guitar leaned up against the boy’s bed. Your eyes met as you looked towards him and he gave you a shy smile, “d’you know how to play?” 

He asked with excitement lingering at the end of the sentence. You nodded, suddenly feeling bashful. “I know a number or two,” you muttered and sat down on a chair near the bed. A sudden anxious feeling was creeping up in your chest and laid heavy. It was different from the usual shy and reserved sense of being one felt at being in a strange and new room. George gave you a toothy grin and grabbed the guitar by its neck carefully, “I’m still learning.” He took careful steps towards you. “Could you… maybe, if you want to… play something?”

You reached for the guitar, but hesitated as you looked up into his brown eyes. You loved the opportunity to show off but your head screamed no and pushed on the temptations of throwing the guitar and running away, but deciding against all of that, you took the guitar firmly in hand and mentally went through the song you had in mind for George. The minutes flew by as you played ‘Sweet Sue, Just You’ with George watching you intently. While it was nowhere near the quality of which you could find on records, George looked enthralled and spent seconds in silence afterwards with a hazed look in his eyes and grin. “That was belter,” he awed and was about to continue in his praise but was interrupted by the loud voice of your father calling your name. With wide eyes in panic, you quickly handed him the guitar and rushed up from the chair- “I got to be going,” you heaved out and swiftly moved towards the chair. “Will you come back and teach me?” George hurried in asking before you had completely left him. You before managed out a ‘yeah, yeah, sure,’ before you all but vanished down the stairs.

And you did see him again. A few weeks later, you managed to sneak away from your father’s sight and made your way to George’s house. You were nervous which, in a way, frightened you. What could possibly make you so nervous? Tiny George and his guitar? Harrumph! 

He greeted you at the door with a smile and quickly lead you to his room with exciting chatter about what he had done the last few weeks and how he had practised and practised on his guitar and how he was so excited to show you and for you to teach him ‘Sweet Sue, Just You’. His eager commotion confused you. You had never experienced a person making such a buzz about you in such a positive way. You knew not how to react or act and lead him pull you into his room and silently watched him twist around on the floor, playing the guitar, and mimicking Elvis Presley. Your mind was slowly unravelling as you watched him. And it went further and further apart as you sat crossed legged across each other on his narrow bed as you taught him to in and outs to the song he had been so eager to learn. He was quick to learn and as you adjusted the placements of his fingers on the strings, he suddenly stilled and you looked up with a raised brow in question. He looked wide eyed at you and before you could react- he placed a light and quick peck on your lips. 

You shot back from him and fell on your back. You heard him stutter, but that was all you heard before you rolled out the bed and rushed out of the room, out of the house, and ran home. You knew not how to react. You knew not how to feel. All you felt was the adrenaline rush through you as you ran to your room and threw you against the door as you slammed it shut. You fell to the floor and praised the miracle that was your father not being home. You liked George- you really did! But what was that! He kissed you! Was he supposed to do that? Was boys supposed to do that to boys? It was disgusting… but you found yourself, the more you thought about it on the cold floor of your room, that you liked it. You liked George. But this couldn’t happen. It shouldn’t! Your father would surely kill you if he found out.

---

It was the summer of 1960, your relationship with George changed drastically and, at the same time, not at all. After the certain event of the summer of 1956, not much had really changed. The next time you saw George (it was weeks before you showed up at his door again), all was as if nothing had happened. George acted like the last few minutes had simply… been erased and, while there was a small sting to it, you could live with that. A heavy feeling lingered when you saw him- especially as he grew into the age of girls and furthermore; into their arms. But by 1960, it was numb. It was barely there. And it was something you could live with. You hung out still. He was in a band- you watched him; you cheered for him. It was all nice and the act of not feeling that feeling went quite well, actually, but then one evening it all crashed into itself. 

The two of you had been sitting, mulling over a few beers in the back garden of your small house. It was the night before he left for Hamburg with his band The Beatles, of which he was a guitarist. He had come over with the beers in hand and a serious look written across his face. Normally, you would have him taken anywhere else, but you were in such a luck that it was the day that your father would go to the pub and pass out somewhere in the back of it. The owner of the establishment had already called and informed you of your father’s stay there. So you had gladly opened the door for George and his case of beer, and off you went into the deep crevices of intoxication. And it soon became clear as to why George had had the generosity of the bevvy, it was clear that there was something he wanted to say and could not get out. You carefully placed your hand on his shoulder and gave it a slow rub as you looked into his sunken eyes and waited.

“D’you… do you ever think about the summer when we first met?”

He asked in so low a voice you almost hadn’t heard the question. You nodded, anxious to know where it was leading. “I… often do,” he continued in the same voice- hushed and quiet. An emotional pain radiated for it and you felt responsible. You blinked, in lieu of not knowing what to say. You had thought he had completely forgotten about it. While, for you, it had never left your mind. He leaned towards you and you felt his warm breath and the dank smell of cheap beer hit you in the face. “I love you,” he choked out and slumped his head against your hard shoulder. “... George,” you whispered and felt him stir against your jacket. “Georgie,” you persisted and lightly pushed him from you. Tears hung desperately in his eyelashes as he looked at you with his dark eyes, the pain and hurt as visibly as the night sky above you. 

You wiped the tears from his cheek as they finally fell. His skin was soft and burning hot and you rested your cool palm against the heat as you looked into his eyes and slowly got lost as you whispered- “George… I,” you swallowed deeply and felt tears burn at the edge of your eyes,”... I love you too.”

[studpuffin]

WAIT OKAY ONE MORE IM SORRY SDHSLDFSDLKF BUT Bevchie where Bev doms richie (degradation and hair pulling bc richie would so be into that okay,) OKAY IM DONE BYE

;)

read on ao3

Beverly Marsh loved her husband. She loved how he makes her laugh. She loved his dorky sense of humor and the way his smile lights up every room he’s in. She loved how she feels so lucky every day just to spend the rest of her life with him.

And she loved how he looks tied to their bed.

She loved getting dommed by Richie. His big hands on her breasts, teasing between her legs, tightening around her throat, the way he would whisper filthy things in her ear while he fucked her.

But now it was her turn.

It had come up a few days ago. They had been laying on the couch, Richie’s head in her lap while she played with his curls. Playfully, she tugged, grinning when Richie groan and nuzzled his face into her thigh.

“Warn a guy if you wanna get kinky babe,” he nipped at her inner thigh.

She laughed, “You like that? When I pull your hair?”

Richie grinned, “Oh sure. Who wouldn’t like their super hot wife roughing them up a little…if you want to try it.”

Bev nodded excitedly, “Definitely.”  

Now Friday night, Bev was practically buzzing with excitement as she hurried up the stairs to their apartment, “Rich? Honey?”

“In here!” His voice floated out to her from the bedroom. She placed her bag down by the door and smiled at the sight before her. Richie laying on their bed, strumming mindlessly on his guitar, eyes blissfully closed as the setting sun streamed through their window. She kicked off her heels, crawling to lay alongside him.

“Hello my handsome husband,” she kissed the soft smattering of freckles on Richie’s cheek.

Richie opened one eye and smirked, “Hello my beautiful wife,” he rolled onto his side, kissing her.

Bev smiled, tucking a dark curl behind his ear, “Are you ready?”

Richie took her wrist, guiding it down to his crotch, “I’ve been hard for hours Bevvie,” he groaned as she cupped him through his sweatpants, rubbing small circles, “It’s all I can think about…”

Bev kissed his neck, “Strip for me…”

Richie grinned, scrambling off the bed as Bev sat up, smoothing her skirt, “You want a show Bevs?”

Bev nodded, “I love your body baby,” she pressed a kiss to his fingertips. She rested her chin in her hand as Richie pulled his t-shirt off and tossed it into the pile of laundry. Her tongue traced over her lips as Richie pulled down his sweatpants and tossed them away.

“Get on the bed,” She stood, a good six inches shorter than Richie, “And put your arms over your head…” she dragged her nails along his chest.

Richie gasped, dropping onto the bed, tossing his arms over his head as Bev looped some rope around each wrist, securing them to bedposts. He rolled his head to the side, a soft groan leaving him as Bev slipped her button up off her shoulders, “Fuck I love you…”

Bev laughed, “You just like to watch,” she teased, noticing how Richie’s breath hitched, “Oh? So you do like to watch…” she smirked, tangling his fingers in his curls, pulling him up into a messy kiss, “I know you won’t but…” she dug into their drawer and slipped a cock ring around him, “Just in case,” she patted his cheek, “We both know you have no self-control.”

Richie nodded, “I-”

“Shhhh,” she kissed his neck again, “I know baby,” She kissed down his collarbone, “You love how it feels when I touch you. You love to watch me touch myself,” she cupped his cheek, nails pressing lightly into his cheek, “Say it,” she whispered, lips pressed to the shell of his ear.

Richie’s breath shook, “I like to watch you touch yourself…”

Bev hummed softly, “What’s tonight about Richie?”

“You. You Bevvie…” he sighed softly ending in a moan as Bev tugged on his curls, “Fuck…”

Bev nodded, “That’s right. And I’m gonna use you as my fuck toy all night. Your mouth…” she pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips, “Your cock…” she took him in her hand, giving a small jerk, grinning as Richie hissed, “You’re mine.”

Richie nodded, eyes scrunched shut, “Yours…” he arched up as she scratched her nails over his chest, “I’m yours.”

Bev smiled, “Open your eyes baby,” she stroked his fingertips down his cheek, “You said you wanted to watch,” unclipped her bra, tossing it away before slipping off her panties and straddling his chest. Her hands traveled up her body, teasing her nipples, “I like it when you watch me…” she gasped as her thumb brushed over the sensitive bud.

Richie’s eyes fluttered open, “You’re so fucking beautiful…” he whispered, “Wish I could touch you…”

Bev’s hand trailed down, stomach muscles clenching as her fingertips grazed her skin, “Mmmm I know sweetheart,” she gasped as her fingers stroked her clit, “But this isn’t about you is it?” she rubbed her thumbs in small circles. Her head fell back, a familiar warm feeling starting to coil in her stomach as she continued stroking small circles, “Bet you wish you could feel how wet I am…”  

Richie growled softly, “Bev…”

Bev whimpered softly, rolling her hips against her fingers, “Mmmm yeah baby? You wish it was your fingers in my pussy?” She moaned, “I love how you feel inside me,” she braced her free hand on Richie’s chest and leaned forward to kiss him, “Tell me what you want baby.”

Richie nipped at her lip, arms flexing against the ties, “Wanna get my mouth on you..”

Bev scratched her nails down his ribs, “Beg for it,” she sighed rocking slowly, “Fuck…Fuck I’m gonna come Richie…” she slumped against his chest as her orgasm ripped through her soft curses falling from her lips and into Richie’s skin.

Richie groaned in frustration as Bev moaned against his collarbone, “Fuck Bevvie,” he twitched, feeling her jerk against him as she played with her clit, slipping two fingers inside herself as Richie pressed a kiss into her hair, “You know I love making you feel good sweetheart. Please? Wanna get my mouth on you. Use me…”

Bev looked up, green eyes dark with lust. She smirked scooting up Richie’s chest, “Let’s put that mouth of yours to good use hmm? That’s all your good for right? Being my fuck toy?” she put her knees on either side of Richie’s head, laughing as he leaned his head up, trying to reach hear, “Eager aren’t you baby…” she ran a hand through his curls, “So cute,” she gasped as she rolled her hips against his tongue. Richie lifted his head enthusiastically licking and sucking at her clit, drinking in her soft moans and whimpers.

“Fuck Richie yes,” she sighed, grabbing his hair and grinding her hips down as his tongue traced little teasing circles against her. He was always a giver, but not being able to touch her seems to make him even more determined to rock her world. Bev pulled his curled, moaning as he sat up slightly, pressing himself closer to her, “Oh god. Oh god, Richie…”

He pulled back, pressing kisses to her inner thighs. Bev tightened her hold on his curls, “No,” she tugged him back towards her, “You stop when I say you can stop,” she moaned, grinding down on his tongue, “My good boy,” she gasped, “Putting that dirty mouth of yours to good use…” her voice pitched higher as her second orgasm of the night overtook her, “Oh Richie fuck baby your tongue feels amazing,” she pulled harder on his curls, laughing breathlessly as Richie groaned against her thigh as she released his hair.

“Fuck Bevs” he laughed, “That was something…”

Bev moved back until they were nose to nose, “What do you mean was baby? I’m not done with you yet,” she patted his cheek softly, grinning as he flinched at the slap, “I’m not even close yet…” She sat up, settled over his cock, sighing as the slowly sank down onto him, “Fuck Richie…”

Richie moan, pushing his hips up, “Baby…”  he pushed his hips up, grinning as Bev gasped grabbing at his shoulder.

Crack

A sharp slap landed on his cheek, “Did I say you could move?” Bev grabbed his chin, “Look at me, Richie. Did I say you could move?”

Richie shook his head quietly, “No…”

“What was that?”

“No.”

Bev nodded, “That’s right…” she leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the handprint, “No self-control baby. I’m a little disappointed.”

Richie blushed and looked up at her, “I love you?”

Bev smiled softly at him, “I love you too. You still have no self-control and you broke the rules,” she kissed his neck softly, “So I’m gonna make this really, really slow for you…” she shifted in his lap, “You’re here to make me feel good.”

Richie nodded, “Yeah…”

“Say it.” She gasped, reaching down between her legs again as she bounced in Richie’s lap.

Richie moaned, turning his head into his arms, “I’m your toy.”

“That’s fucking right,” she moaned, “You’re mine to use however I want…” braced her hands on his chest as she ground down on him again, “Fuck you feel so good…” she pressed a kiss right over his heart, grinning at the lipstick mark on his chest, “I need a picture of that.”

Richie looked up, “Do it. I want to see…”

Bev grinned, reaching over to grab her phone and lipstick from the dresser next to their bed. Uncapping it, she wrote four letters over the lipstick mark. She sat back, groaning, feeling Richie press deeper inside her. Unlocking her phone she snapped a few photos, still slowly grinding in his lap, “I’m definitely making that my phone background,” she grinned, “You look so fucking hot Rich.”

Richie blushed and rolled his eyes, “Aw come on Bevvie…”

She sighed softly, “Fuck I’m so close…Richie,” she grabbed his shoulder, “Oh shit,” she whimpered, “Mine mine mine mine,” she gasped, hand resting on his throat.

Richie gasped, “Oh shit…Baby, please let me come. Untie me. Let me-” he gasped as Bev tightened her grip. Bev gasped eyes rolling back as she came for the third time that night, kissing Richie roughly.

“You wanna come, honey?”

Richie nodded, “Please.”

Bev unlocked the ring, slipping it off of him, shifting onto him again and rocking on his lap again.

“Bevvie,” he sighed, “Untie me, baby. Let me touch you.” he gasped.

Bev nodded undoing the ties on his wrists. She laughed as Richie instantly grabbed her waist, rolling them over on the bed, pumping his hips. She pressed kisses along his neck and jaw, “Come for me baby,” she whispered.

Richie buried his face in her red curls breathing hard, “Bev…Bev, Bevvie,” he tensed, coming deep inside her and pulling her closer.

“What do we say to people who let us come, Richie?”

Richie moaned weakly into her hair, “Thank you…” he sniffled softly, “I love you Bevs…”

“Hey,” she took his face in her hands, “Look at me baby…” she whispered, dominant roll falling away, “Richie sweetheart,” she kissed him slowly, “I love you.”

Richie smiled, “I love you too Bev…”

Bev shook her head, “I wanted to make sure you knew,” she kissed down his neck, “That slap was pretty hard.”

Richie laughed, “I’m fine Bevs. Promise.”

She nodded, “Was I too rough?” she lay her head on his chest, “You make it look so easy…”

“No,” he promised, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulled her onto his chest, “No sweetheart you were amazing. I loved that.”

“So…” she smiled, “You’d wanna do it again?”

Richie pressed a kiss to her fingertips, “Oh hell yeah,” he nipped teasingly at her fingers, “We’re definitely doing that again.”

tag list: @tinyarmedtrex @aizeninlefox @reddie-for-anything @its-stranger-than-you-think @richardtoz @oldguybones @mrs_vh @reddies-spaghetti @honeybeehanlon

[ask-joyce-byers]

12. things you said when you thought i was asleep - with Jopper

{12. Things you said when you thought I was asleep}

I’ve told the story about the quarry the year we graduated. The spring of ‘60, it had just gotten warm enough where sundown wasn’t chilly, and everyone else had gone home. My parents told me to take my time, have fun with my friends, and that my mother had made strawberry Jell-o whenever I was ready. It was celebration food, and somehow I felt that I hadn’t really earned it. After all, all I’d done was graduate high school with good grades, and I still had the rest of my life ahead of me. It was a giant blank. Everyone was so full of “what they were going to do now” and I had nothing. Probably find a job here in Hawkins. Work, save money. Maybe get married. Maybe write a book, I had always liked writing and was good at it, and filled my notebooks at school with the ideas that I never had time to finish. 

Of course Jim Hopper had a grand scheme. He told me about it with a shit-eating grin, that he was going to go become a police officer, and by being an upstanding law enforcement officer, evade the draft, and therefore keep from dying prematurely. “This face is just to pretty to go to ‘Nam and get blown off,” he had said with a sparkle in his eye, but we both knew that it was serious, and that Rick and Dan had both already had their numbers drawn. And we were all just eighteen. 

“Sounds like a good plan,” I told him. Not dying was always good. And then, “I don’t really have a plan.”

“Who needs a plan when you have brains? It doesn’t matter that you took second place to Walter Standish, your essays were better.”

“Not that you read them,” I shot back. He was a player, and I knew it. And yet somehow we always drifted together at events like these. The tall, handsome heartbreaker and the shy, dark-haired nerd. I still don’t understand why he asked me to come with him to the quarry. I knew he’d screwed Chrissy Carptenter in that oldsmobile, and probably several others. Chrissy had avoided him the entire evening so I guess there had been a breakup and I honestly wasn’t surprised. Chrissy wasn’t nice, she was barely even civil, at least to me, but she was blonde and had big boobs and had commanded a bevvy of admirers since the fifth grade. 

The stars were bright, the blanket was rough, the beer was warm, and his touch was perfect as we lay on the gravel at the quarry, smoking in silence, his fingers tangled in my hair, my hand absently tracing circles on his wrist. My sweater was someplace wadded up - it had been beneath my head - and as I shivered, he pulled me closer and kissed the top of my head.  

“Sleepy?” he murmured, and I was shy and overwhelmed by our night together, and so I simply nodded, and let my breathing slow. He must have thought I had fallen asleep, because he started talking very low then.

“You gotta forgive me, Joycie,” he said, his words hardly more than a rumble in his chest. “It’s never been anyone but you.” 

And whether or not they’re true, twenty-five years later I still haven’t forgotten those words he said when he thought I was asleep. 

[weallneedoxygen]

here’s the essay on why eddie’s gay @richietoaster

The point of this post is to prove why Eddie Kaspbrak from Stephen King’s It franchise is gay,   and how he could’ve possibly had feelings for Stephen King’s Richie Tozier. In this post, I will look through the pieces of evidence in every It installment, the 1990’s mini-series, It Chapter One, and Stephen King’s novel. This does contain major spoilers for every installment of It, so please be warned.

The first pieces of evidence I will look through will be the 1990 miniseries.

In the 1990 miniseries, Eddie’s greatest fear is up for argument. He meets Pennywise when he tries to get out of showering after gym class, but his gym teacher catches him and he still has to shower, now by himself. He turns on the water and Pennywise appears, coming through the drain, giving the whole “you’ll float too” monologue, plus the additional calling Eddie a “girly boy”. The term “girly boy” is obviously a derogatory term against gay men, and is used in both the miniseries and the novel. Eddie’s greatest fear is up for argument because him not wanting to shower with the other boys, plus being called a girly boy leads people with views similar to mine to believe that his greatest fear is his own sexuality. Other people argue that no he didn’t want to shower because at the beginning of the scene Eddie’s mom says, “No showering with the other boys this week, I don’t want you catching germs” and he didn’t want to shower because he didn’t want to disobey his mother. I don’t think this is true, because in very scene before that, Eddie was completely fine with breaking her rules and hanging out with the Losers club. Also, since this scene was so different than the one in the book, why do they both allude to Eddie being gay? Why is that, when the plot of each scene is ground down, about homosexuality? If Eddie’s greatest fear truly was about germs, like many people argue, wouldn’t the shower scene, which Stephen King wrote, mention germs and disease, instead of a slur?

In the miniseries. Eddie is not given a wife, contrary to the book, and still lives with his mother, but he is still very much successful and runs a limousine business. Not giving Eddie a wife could’ve been one of two things: The directors and producers not wanting to hire an actress or the director's way of coding Eddie as gay in one of many ways. Later in the movie, he is asked about his relationship status, he lies and tells the losers club that he’s currently seeing someone. When they are in the library, Pennywise greets the Losers Club, giving all of them a disturbing message or question. When he gets to Eddie, he says, “How’s your sex life, what’s your sex life?” Which is an interesting thing for the director add into the script, with that line not appearing in the book. Before they go to see Pennywise again, Eddie confesses that he was lying earlier in the movie and that he’s never seen anyone. Richie asks if that means he’s a virgin, and Eddie says yes. Richie responds with “Thanks for sharing pal, but I can’t help you with that.” Bill tells Richie to let Eddie speak, and Eddie continues to say that he could never sleep with someone he didn’t love, and he hasn’t loved anyone besides the losers club. The line “I could never sleep with someone I didn’t love,” doesn’t exactly out Eddie as gay, but it does out the albatross and his need to lie about his sex life.

In the miniseries, Richie and Eddie have a very close relationship. As kids, Richie is constantly teasing Eddie and calling him Eddie Spaghetti, which Eddie says he hates. Richie teases all the other members of the losers club, but he seems to have the closest bond to Eddie. Eddie’s death towards the end of the movie is, anticlimactic, to say the very least, and isn’t the beautiful, heart-wrenching scene we get in the book, and is borderline obsolete to their bond. But at the very end of the movie, Mike is talking about what all the losers are up to. He gets to Richie, who’s starring in a new movie, and says “He co-stars with another comic, a guy any of the lucky seven could’ve told you looks and acts like Eddie Kaspbrak.” This line also appears in the novel, and I would feel stupid trying to explain why this an obvious example of how close and not quite platonic Eddie and Richie’s relationship was.

In the latest installment of the It franchise that came out in September of 2017, there aren’t many clues or hints that would lead the audience to believe that Eddie is gay. In the scene where he meets Pennywise, he is walking past the Neibolt house when you can hear a mysterious voice in the background asking, “Eddie, what are you looking for?”  Suddenly, Eddie drops his medicine. As he picks it up, a leper begins to hand him one of his dropped pills, asking if he thinks the pills will help him. Eddie runs away and escapes. There isn’t too much to unpack here, Eddie doesn’t like disease, and a diseased person won’t leave him alone. The only veiled part of this scene is the meaning to the line, “Eddie, what are you looking for?” While keeping in mind that in the miniseries Eddie’s greatest fear is his own sexuality, Eddie could be looking for answers to his sexuality. Richie’s biggest fear in the movie is clowns, which doesn’t really come up anywhere but one scene. Eddie goes missing in the Neibolt house, and Pennywise tricks Richie and lures him into this room full of clown statues, where he knows either Eddie or Pennywise is hiding, but he risks it anyways to find Eddie because his true biggest fear at that moment is losing Eddie.

After Eddie breaks his arm and Pennywise is slowly coming towards the losers, there is an infamous moment where Richie pushes past Bev and Bill to grab ahold of Eddie’s face, so Eddie will look at him instead of Pennywise, so that won’t be the last thing Eddie sees before he dies. Otherwise in the movie there aren’t any other moments, just very small things like Richie kicking off all his jokes with Eddie, asking Eddie if he has a quarter when they approach Pennywise’s well, Eddie handing Richie an icecream cone, them being the only two talking when the walk into Ben’s room, and only talking to each other, Eddie only hugging Richie goodbye at the end of the movie, them having similar rainbow clothing, small, soft things.

In the novel, Stephen King leaves Eddie’s sexual identity up to discussion.

In the chapter dedicated to adult Eddie, Eddie Kaspbrak Takes his Medicine, Eddie is a successful businessman unhappily married to Myra Kaspbrak with no children. In Eddie’s own words, he married his mother.  Later, in a state of panic on page 776-777 Eddie thinks to himself, in a book or movie what I found out the day Bowers broke my arm (that his pills were placebo) would have changed my life forever and nothing would have happened the way it did . . . in a book or a movie it would have set me free. In a book or movie it would have set me free. In a book or a movie I wouldn’t have a suitcase full of pills back in my room. . . I wouldn’t be married to Myra. . .”

Eddie’s mother, Sonia Kaspbrak, who had a severely bad case of munchausen by proxy, emotionally abused him by constantly telling him how sick and fragile he was and made him dependent on her. On page 559 she says to Eddie after talking about two male neighbors, “Any two men who bother keeping a house so nice must be queers,” Eddie’s mother had once said in a disgruntled sort of way, and Eddie hadn’t dared ask for clarification. This shows Eddie’s mother is homophobic, which wasn’t too uncommon in the 1950’s, but it also shows that Eddie is aware and uncomfortable about this. Throughout the book there are situations similar to these, King’s way of showing the intolerance in Derry, Maine.

Eddie’s biggest fear in the book and movie adaptations are disease and sexuality. The two go hand in hand because in the 1950s homosexuality was completely taboo and seen as something dirty. There were many rumors about diseases you could get from gay sex going all the way into the 1990s. Since Eddie is so afraid of disease (thanks Sonia) it makes complete sense why Eddie wouldn’t embrace any part of his sexuality due to thinking that it could make him sick.  Pennywise, in the book, turns into a pedophile leper for Eddie while he is wandering around Neibolt house. This fear is deprived specifically from when Eddie was playing down at the train tracks when a homeless man with syphilis offers him a blowjob for a dime, a nickel, then finally telling Eddie that he’ll blow him for free, something that is repeated throughout the book whenever Eddie is greeted by Pennywise.

Eddie and Stan are the only two losers who aren’t attracted to Bev. But it could be argued that just Eddie is the only one who doesn’t have a crush on Bev. During the sewer orgy scene, Eddie is the only one who genuinely does not want to have sex with Bev. Note page 1098, He tries to pull back but she holds him. . . “Bevvie, I can’t do that. I don’t know how-”. . . “No, I can’t!”.   While not being attracted to Bev, Eddie has a crush on Bill, the leader of the losers club and the one who ultimately defeats Pennywise. A few pieces of evidence of this attraction can be found on page 293, (eddie) remembers that he loved Bill Denbrough, he remembers that well enough. Bill never made fun of his asthma. Bill never called him a sissy queer boy. . . When you ran with Bill you ran to beat the devil and you laughed. . . but you hardly ever ran out of breath. And hardly ever running out of breath was great, so fucking great, Eddie would tell the world. When you ran with Bill, you got your chucks every day. You may also cite page 296. Bill looked up at Eddie. His eyes were clear and warm, sympathetic. Eddie was suddenly sure Big Bill knew exactly what he had been thinking, and he was ashamed. Page 319. And at the end (eddie) burst into shrill tears, his thin body shaking. They all looked at him uncomfortably. . . Bill gave him an awkward hug while the others glanced away, embarrassed. “That’s a-all right, E-Eddie. It’s o-o-okay.” (That last example wasn’t the best but I forgot to bookmark all the affectionate moments so take what I have). Also cite page 732. Eddie glanced briefly at Bill, who was looking into the clubhouse, and there was all the love and hero-worship in that gaze needed to answer such a question but Eddie said softly, “Some stuff has to be done even if there is a risk. That’s the first important thing I ever found out I didn’t find out from my mother.”

It is finally the time to talk about Eddie and Richie’s relationship in the novel. Enjoy.

Richie’s #1 nickname for Eddie is ‘Eds’, which Eddie says he hates. When thinking back on the nickname years later as an adult, he says on page 292, Man, he had hated it when Richie called him Eds. . . but he had sort of liked it too. It was something . . . like a secret name. A secret identity. A way to be people that had nothing to do with their parents’ fears, hopes, constant demands. Richie couldn’t do his beloved Voices for shit, but maybe he did know how important it was for creeps like them to sometimes be different people. While there is a lot to unpack here, the most notable things are how he says that Richie gave him a secret identity, and that it was important for ‘creeps’ like them to sometimes be different people.

I shall now go on to cite many incidents in which Richie calls Eddie ‘Eds’: page 301, Richie came bopping down to the stream, glanced at Ben with some interest, and then pinched Eddie’s cheek. “Don’t do that! I hate it when you do that, Richie.” “Ah, you love it, Eds,” Richie said, and beamed at him. Page 304, Get up, stop it, you’re splattering mud on me! Eddie cried. Richie jumped to his feet a second time and pinched Eddie’s cheek. “Cute, cute, cute!” Richie exclaimed. “Stop it, I hate that!” page 349, “That’s cause they know how cute you are, Eds- just like me. I saw what a cutie you were the first time I met you.” Sometimes you’re really a turd, Richie.”   I believe King wrote this as a parallel to how young boys will often tease girls that they have a crush on.  While Richie teases Eddie unlike how he teases the rest of the losers, he’ll also be very gentle with him. Page 709, Richie dug (eddie’s) aspirator out of (eddie’s) pocket. “Bite on this, Eddie,” he said, and Eddie took a hitching, gasping breath as Richie pulled the trigger. Page 991, The others burst out of the bushes which overhung the bank one after the other. Richie and Eddie were last, Richie with one arm slung around Eddie’s waist, his dripping specs clinging precariously to the end of his nose.

(This has nothing to do with this essay but I really wanted to include it. Enjoy). This takes place on page 733 “There’s a door down there,” Eddie said, zipping his fly as he came back. “Hope you shook off, Eds,” Richie said. “If you don’t shake off each time, you can get cancer, my mom told me so.” Eddie looked at him, thinly worried, and then saw Richie’s grin. . . “of course, you can never shake off completely,” Richie went on. “You want to know what a wise man once told me, Eds?” “No,” Eddie said, “and I don’t want you to call me Eds anymore, Richie. I mean, I’m sincere. I don’t call you Dick, as in, ‘You got any gum an ya, Dick?’ so I don’t see why-” “This wise man,” Richie said, “told me this: ‘no matter how much you squirm and dance, the last two drops go in your pants.’And that’s why there’s so much cancer in the world, Eddie my love.”

Richie’s biggest fear is sort of difficult to pin down. The very first fear we see from him is a werewolf, then a statue of a lumberjack, then being a giant eyeball, then being forgotten by his friends. There are theories that the werewolf is a metaphor for how he feels toward his bisexuality, one half is a handsome, clean cut, normal man, the other is this horrible monster. With the amount of metaphors King has in his books this theory isn’t very far fetched, but I’m still a bit skeptic. Richie, since he was a child was entirely aware of how bad it would be if he were to be caught touching another boy, even just innocently, and he’s too afraid to put his arm around Bill while Bill was crying. But when Eddie dies Richie makes absolutely no hesitation to hold him in his arms and when Richie calls him Eds for the last time, and Eddie begins to say “Don’t call me that, you know I always-” Eddie he pauses, and in the book it says that he is thinking how to finish. Eddie has said this to Richie his whole life, so one would think that he wouldn’t need any cognitive ability to finish that sentence, but no, Eddie gives it some thought, as if maybe he’d want to change what he’d been saying for so many years, and in his final moments make a confession of some sort, but tragically, Eddie dies before he finishes what he was about to say. Richie then insists that they get him out of the sewer because he knew Eddie wouldn’t have wanted to die there, but they can’t so Richie simply says goodbye and kisses him on the cheek.

This concludes my essay on why I believe Eddie Kaspbrak from Stephen King’s It franchise is gay, and how he could’ve possibly had feelings for Stephen King’s Richie Tozier. In this paper I went through the pieces of evidence in every It installment, the 1990’s mini series, It Chapter One, and Stephen King’s novel. I sincerely hope that in It Chapter Two the directors pay attention to Eddie’s gay coding.

[beepbeeprichiellc]

Part 1. Part 2.

His breath was fogging up the glass, his fingers leaving smudges along the smooth surface. The housekeeper was going to have a fit when she saw what he had done, he knew this and yet all he could focus on was the two standing on the front lawn. The thing about Beverly was that she was the perfect wing man-woman-whatever. She always knew the exact way to flaunt what he had as to weed out those suitable for her friends. It was how Richie almost always got laid, excluding for drunken one nighters he occasionally ended up in. When he answered her call he hadn’t expected her to show, knowing that she was recovering from her late night fly in so when she walked onto his property with those short shorts and tank top he knew she was out to kill. Although the look on the pool boy’s face when she advanced told him that he wasn’t falling for her tricks and Richie was afraid he would see right though the shamble.

The truck with chipped paint pulled from the curb, carrying with it his new pool boy. Richie watched it leave, discreetly using the sheer drapes to keep himself hidden. Once the tail lights were around the corner he sighed, banging his head loudly on the glass. There was a gnawing in his stomach, an unimaginable feeling that he wished to just go away. Maybe it was because he hadn’t been laid in over three months, or maybe it was because just the sight the boy made him a blubbering mess but he felt restless.

There was a bang from the back door and Richie nearly ran over to where Beverly stood, her cheeks flushed from the heat. Stopping short of jumping in to his arms he leaned against the countertop, biting his bottom lip nervously. “So?” He sang, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“He’s gay.” She answered, knowing the question without verbal confirmation. “Didn’t even bat an eye when I asked for his number.”

“Hot damn!” Richie nearly yelled in excitement. “Thank god for the little things.”

“Honestly, I don’t think you two would work.” Beverly admitted softly, pulling her sunglasses from her nose and burying them into her hair. There was a twinkle in her eye, like something was brewing in her head. “I mean, he’s just here for the summer and-”

“Well so am I. I’m not looking for a relationship Bevvy, just someone to get dirty with while I’m home.” Richie rolled his eyes, a sly grin stretching from ear to ear. “Don’t dangle him in my face and expect me not to bite.”

“I’m not danling anything in your face.” She nipped, snapping her fingers in his direction. “I just think he isn’t your type. He was all worried about your dad, about his job. He’s a straight shooter and I don’t think you’ll be able to bend him like you want.”

“Okay first off.” He muttered, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose as he looked at his friend amusingly, “He’s gay, so he isn’t a ‘straight’ shooter. Secondly, I’m not gonna bend him unless that’s the way he likes it. I mean I’d like to bend him over a lot of things like that chair or the counter or-”

“Okay fine!” She barked, rubbing the space between her eyes. “Fine, just stop putting that very vivid image in my head.” Glancing back up to her friend she smiled, sighing with contentment as she leaned into the door frame with her hip leading. “You can be so disgusting sometimes, remind me why we are friends again?”

“Because we are the black sheep in our families and that causes us to gravitate towards each other.” He mouthed back quickly, pursing his lips and blowing a very suggestive kiss. “Now tell me, what is that cutie’s name?”

“Eddie.”

“Eddie.” He whispered, the name making his lips tingle. It tasted sour, not the type of sourness that made you cringe but rather the sourness that left your mouth watering, making you beg for more. Richie smiled, running his long nimble fingers through the rats nest he called hair, wincing when he caught a few knots. “Even his name is sexy as hell.”

Beverly scoffed, pushing herself upward and strolling past him with a slight push. “Get dressed.” She commanded, not looking back at him as she began her rampage through his parents fridge. “And hurry up because we have to pick up Bill along the way.”

“Where are we going?” He asked, shamelessly watching his best friend bend over to reach a soda from the bottom self. There was no spark, no need when he looked at her backside but rather a respectable appreciation of its glory.

Slamming the fridge door she replied, “To the beach.”

------------------

Eddie laid his back on his board, looking up at the clouded sky with fondness. Things began to cool as the storm rolled in, the blueness becoming overpowered by the grey puffs of condensation. He wondered what it would be like to be caught in a storm, really caught under the sheets of rain. There had been glory stories told about surfing during a summer storm and anyone who was everyone knew that it was the best time for such a thing. Stan had done it once, Mike twice but he still had yet to live through the glory. He was afraid, just like he always was, tucking tail and running before the real masterpiece touched down.

Maybe someday.

But not today.

“Well this turned out to be a shitty day.” Stan’s stoic voice came from across the still water. “I skipped my hot yoga class for this?”

“Remind me why you take hot yoga again?” Mike jeered, laughter following his question. “Isn’t that uncomfortable?”

“It’s freeing.” He nipped, splashing water over to where Mike was currently floating. “And like you are one to talk, you are majoring in history! Who fucking does that!”

Eddie smiled, enjoying the banter that followed. It had only been a few days and yet he felt more free here than he would have back at home. When Mike had brought up the idea of the three of them heading to the coast at the end of semester, he had been against it. Too many people, to many unpredictable variables. It took one very long, uncomfortable phone call from his mother to change his mind and even then he had only done it out of spite. Now he was floating in the Pacific Ocean with his two best friends without a care in the world.

“I think we should head in.” Mike’s reassuring voice suggested, making Eddie cringe. “The storm is going to hit soon and the last thing I need is another concussion from surfing.”

“Yeah, and I don’t feel like saving you guys when you drown.” Stan added, turning his board back to the mainland. “I say we head back to the house and order some paper view, maybe some pizza in the process.”

“Both of those things involve money, which mind you, we do not have.”

With a sigh Eddie sat up, looking at his friends with a frown. “You know it’s Stan’s job to be a downer right Mikey?” He joked, starting the long ride in. This made his friend laugh, muttering under his breath that he was just a realist. Once the touched sand Eddie’s stomach sank, the fleeting opportunity passing by him. He dug his feet in, wiggling his toes one last time before stepping out of the salty water. Looking once more to the sky he muttered, “Do you think it’s really gonna rain?”

“Na.” Stan replied, walking ahead towards the parking lot. “I think this place is fucking with us. Our first time out on the water and it’s gonna trick us back to shore.”

“Huh.” Eddie thought it seemed likely, even more so as the so as the sun peered through a storm cloud. “Well that sucks.”

“Life sucks my man.” Mike said, throwing his board on top of his truck. “Don’t worry, we can try tomorrow once you get off.”

This made Eddie shrug, half assuming that he would be fired by tomorrow anyways so why even care about it. The three of them had strapped their things in, taking time to adjust as needed so that the truck would actually make it back home. Eddie had been so busy that he hadn’t noticed the company he had gained, or the eyes that followed him with each move. It was Stan who noticed her, scowling as she approached. “Eddie, I think you've attracted a stray.” He groaned.

“Wha-”

“Eddie!” Beverly’s excitable voice called, her smile widening as she and two others moved closer. “Fancy meeting you here!”

Eddie froze, his body refusing to react as she pulled him into a awkward, one sided hug. Shimmying he was able to drop her hold, forcing a laugh. “Uh hI Beverly. What are you doing here.” He glanced behind her, noticing the Tozier boy who now wore a pair of khaki shorts, a god awful hawaiian shirt and-jesus christ-a pair of bright pink sandals. It seemed that Richie was more confident in person, his eyes bright and exuberant as he watched the exchange. There was also a normal looking boy with soft brown hair and a soft smile, being almost the exact opposite of his friend that stood beside him. “Are you following me?”

“What? No!” She pushed against his shoulder playfully, “The beach sounded like a good place to be so I decided to come down here with some of my friends, same as you.”

He was being stalked, Eddie just knew it.

“Hi, I’m Mike.” The kind hearted boy muttered, breaking the tension and extending his hand out to the rich girl. “And this is Stan.” He gestured to the unamused boy. “How do you know Eddie?”

Beverly smiled, taking hold of Mike’s hand and shaking it. “We met this morning, he was working on Richie’s lawn when I came over.”

“Ah, leave it to Eddie to make new friends on the first day in town.” Mike jokes, laughing at his friends expense. “So you’re Beverly, who are these two?”

“Oh! This is Bill.” She motioned to the calmer of the two, “And Richie himself.” The jumpy kid waved, a cheeky smile crossing his face instantly. “So you guys are new in town huh? Where are you staying?”

“Oh in my parents old beach house down the street. It’s not much but it’s a roof over our heads.” Eddie frowned, he liked the cozy home. It felt safe, and warm to him. More so than his own home back in Derry. “What are you guys from the upper east side or something?”

“Yep.” Beverly replied, “Hey since you guys are new why don’t we show you around. You have no idea where the good hanging spots are yet and there is a bar a few blacks down that has the best mixed drinks. What do you say? First round on me.” Eddie could not have been shaking his head any more, his ears ringing painfully as Mike replied for all of them with a genuine smile.

“Sounds fun.”

Pool Boy Eddie Tag:

@softuris @snooxyspazz @ihavesympathyforthedevil @reddieornox @addimagination @tozierbinch @loadsofgayy @helfeatencupquakes @pankoozie @moved-to-some-raging-fangirl @strangerl0ser @letsgetreddietorumble @oh-mayfield @superbcoffeekid @iamworried7 @ephemeral-elipisis @stan-tozier-denbrough @im-alover @tapetayloe

[hiyo-silver]

Beverly Marsh Grows Up - Laundromat

Summary: Beverly goes through her daily chores, remembering what her father tells her.

Chap 1 + AO3 + My Masterlist

Taglist: @fuckboykaspbrak @thesquidliesthuman @starboystan @rachi0964 @shewasthewind @beepbeep-losers @bigbilliamdenbro @jalenrose1122 @sleepygaybrough @itandstrangerthingsfanfic @boopboopbichie @peachywyatt

Beverly was eight when she started cooking family meals and cleaning messes that weren't even her own. She tosses the rag into the green laundry hamper, trying to clean up just a bit more before she lugged it off to the laundromat later.

She drags it down to the front door, just a foot away from it so it would be easy to carry off in the planned approximately two hours. She heads off to the kitchen next, pulling out the chicken to thaw for later, her mom is meant to help her grill it when she gets home from work at the diner.

She takes the broom from the pantry closet, swiping it across the floor, she doesn't even understand how it could have gotten this bad since she'd done it last. Though she knows it's been a bit, as her father had been yelling at her about it when he was usually much more careless.

She hums softly to herself, the smooth song playing in her mind clear as day, the humming simply to drown out everything around her. The sound of the pipes settling and the floorboards creaking send shivers up her spine, just a bit jumpier than she wishes she were.

She can't help but feel like Cinderella, but maybe not in such a bad way. Her father isn't so bad- so long as she follows his rules and does what he says as quickly as he can say it. Her mother wasn't often around, but she isn't dead, unlike the life of the old as time Disney princess.

She finishes sweeping, not wanting to mop now, it had only been a few days since she last mopped. If only her father took off his work boots when he got home instead of tracking his mess through the house over and over.

It's his career to clean, of course as a janitor. But when it came to home, she did all the work as the only one home. He doesn't know how to keep himself organized, only about a hundred kids who go to the Derry elementary school.

She puts the broom back in the closet, going back to the front door, she slips on her worn flats. The fabric tears around some of the edges and they hardly fit anymore, but they can't afford much else. She straightens the skirt of her dress, lifting the laundry basket to lug off to the laundromat.

Her hair bounces around her shoulders, the red tendrils being her favorite feature of herself by far. They curl around her neck, red hair is like the crown she can never take off. The strawberry color of the locks glow under the sun as she locks the door behind her with the rusted key she wears around her neck.

He pulls the basket behind her before electing to lift it with her scrawny arms, holding it by her chest. Whenever she feels it drop too low she kicks her knees up higher in her walking, almost deciding to hold it up by her chin and hold the edge between her jaw and neck but then she remembers that it's dirty laundry and thinks the better of it, just a lot too gross for her taste.

She kicks a pebble on the ground as she goes, hearing the small sounds it makes as it drops back to the dirt after being kicked and airborne for a moment or so. She receives some looks on her way, mostly those of pity and others of pride.

She gets one of two reactions when people see her working so hard on the household chores at her age. Pity that she has to, or the adults being proud and talking over and over about how they wish their kids were so obedient. If only they knew.

She arrives at the laundromat, chuckling slightly to herself as she always does, the U in the sign is broken so the sign only reads 'landromat' in bright letters and she imagines that's how it would sound spoken by someone with a thick accent.

She drags the laundry hamper the rest of the way into the building, the automatic doors making it much easier, she can't imagine how much harder it would be if she had to hold the door open and lug the hamper in.

She finds an empty station, the most nerve wracking part of the entire journey, laundromats are always full of odd people. People who look just a little wrong, or will stare at you the entire time. Once a man came up to her and just started stroking her hair. It was probably her least favorite experience in a laundromat, to this day she doesn't know why he did that.

She settles herself near the front window. Her daddy always taught her never to use the washers near the back of the laundromat, and she was forbidden from going any time past five pm. He doesn't explain why, just that it's mighty important that she listen to him.

She starts loading the machine, making sure not to put in any whites as she goes, she's turned a fair amount of her dad's white shirts pink by mistake. And her punishment for that was- something she'd rather not think about.

She finishes loading the washer (sans the whites) and pours in the blue detergent, shutting it with a satisfying smack. She sits herself on the bench next to the washer. She'd had her laundry stolen once before, and once again, the punishment was something she'd rather not think about.

She kicks her legs back and forth and scans the room, people watching as she calls it. It's usually women with babies that scream the entire time they're there or creepy men who stand in corners smoking their cigarettes as their dryers go.

She knows to keep away from them, her daddy doesn't even need to tell her to. Though, he has, calls them 'nothin but trouble' and makes her look him in the eye and promise not to mess around with them.

She watches the laundry twist and tumble in the machine, a soothing sight for her. It's work that's getting done that she doesn't need to do herself, for only a nickel even!

A beep pierces her thoughts to signify that her clothes are clean. Has it really been half an hour? She asks herself, man does the time pass by quickly around here.

She pulls the sopping wet clothes out of the machine, putting her coin in to use a dryer. She clumsily shoves it all in, closing it behind and letting the warm air and spin cycle dry them.

She looks down at her shirt, completely soaking wet. This is why her daddy says never to wear light colors to the laundromat, they get wet and you can see right through them. That's why she always wears dark colors here now, today it's a navy gingham dress that she write fancies.

She looks out the window, now, as the dryer goes. She watches people pass by, including a young man obviously struggling with his yoyo, probably gotten out of a cereal box. She giggles to herself at the scene.

That is her entertainment until the dryer goes off, telling her that it's done and her trip to the laundromat has come to an end.

She folds the clothes as she takes them out, placing them neatly in the basket she'd hauled them here in. She smiles to herself, a job well done even if it's not her favorite job.

She picks up the basket carefully, kicking the dryer behind her shut before walking to the automatic door and letting it open before she sets off down the dirt road to go back home.

The load always feels lighter after it's been washed, the adrenaline of accomplishment taking her all the way back to her front door. Her father's truck is in the driveway so she knows he's home, and he'd be so proud of her.

She opens the door with the key hung around her neck, setting the clean clothes on the floor by the front door. "Daddy?" She calls, wondering how long he'd been back.

"Yes, Bevvy?" He calls back, coming into the foyer area to greet her, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear as he starts to talk again, "You did well today and made good time at the laundromat, does that mean ice cream after dinner? I think it does," he says with a smile that most people would classify as terrifying and disgusting but it still fills Beverly with some sort of pride. He's her father and she can't seem to help it.

"Yes, please!" She says with a grin, half hugging him before pulling away, "Can I go play for a bit?" She asks as she's already finished all her chores.

"Until your mother comes home yes, then you have to help her with dinner, remember that," he tells her, putting his hand on her shoulder before taking it away before she skips off to her room.

[thegreatwhiteferret]

Welcome To New York

I Wanna Be Yours Series: Part III (Part I, Part II)

“Here we are in our New York apartment with a view…seems only right that we break it in. Don’t you think, Bill?” Richie suggested smoothly, and Bill nodded. 

“I t-think the p-perfect way w-would to make our girl c-cum so many t-times that she can’t e-even remember her own n-name or ours. W-would you like t-that, Baby Girl?” Bill asked and Bev groaned in anticipation, she knew that they would make good on their promise. 

“Fuck yes, let’s make this place really ours.” Her words were met with two wicked smiles from her boys. 

Pairing: Billverie (BillxBevxRichie)

Rating: Explicit

A/N: HERE IT IS EVERYONE! Billverie is back! @billbenbev and I decided that we just loved these three too much, and that we needed to expand the “I Wanna Be Yours” universe! As of right now, we have eight other connected one-shots planned for this series, and hope to get one out every week!!! (I say hope because y’all know that I’m a mess, and this one alone took me a week and a half to finish…) Who knows where we will go from there! Thank you to everyone who has supported Billverie and sent questions and words of love in for the OT3, we can’t wait to see it grow! Make sure you check out Lua’s blog to see Mood Boards and other Billverie content, like the awesome header she made for this fic! ❤️❤️❤️

NSFW Under the Cut…

“What time did Stan say that we were leaving again?” Richie asked as he attempted to drag four duffel bags full of his things behind him.

“He s-said to be at h-his house at f-four thirty.” Bill answered, groaning as he looked at the pile of Richie’s things that he was somehow supposed to fit and secure in the back of his truck. It wasn’t much, just a beat up silver pickup truck that Richie had affectionately named ‘Silver Two’, but Bill, Bev, and Richie had all pooled their savings from working over the summer in order to afford it. It was the first piece of their new life together.

“Is that seriously all you are bringing, William?” Richie gawked, staring at Bill’s lone foot trunk and duffel from the army surplus store two towns over. Bill rolled his eyes in response. “Fine, fine. All you need are your flannels, jorts, and baseball tees. Got it.”

“W-would you shut the f-fuck up about the j-jorts? I threw t-them all a-away after y-you made it known h-how much you h-hated them.” Bill tossed over his shoulder as he attempted to heft his trunk onto the bed of the truck by himself.

“Jesus, Bill, let me help. You’re not actually Captain America.” Richie muttered, grabbing one end of the trunk, they lifted it easily and Bill hopped up to move it into the right position. When he had, Richie began handing him the other bags, they still had to drive over to Bev’s Aunt Clara’s apartment to pick her up and all of her things, then they were heading over to the Uris house where the parents were throwing a small send off party. Well, some of the parents.

It was really Maggie Tozier and Andrea Uris who had put the whole thing together. Mike’s grandparents and Ben’s mom would be joining as well. Bev’s aunt had to work, so she would be saying goodbye at the apartment. Bill’s parents wouldn’t be attending of course, Bill hadn’t spoken to them in months, not since he had moved in with the Toziers in February. Then there was Sonia Kaspbrak. She had downright refused, threatening Eddie once again that if he left to be with his sinning siren of a boyfriend, that he would never be welcomed home again. Eddie had simply packed his bags and left, knowing that he had more of a family with the Losers than he had ever had with her. When Andrea had heard of this, she set up the guest room for Eddie and told him that he had a new home in Derry.

Bill secured the bungee cords over their luggage and hopped down from the truck, lifting the tailgate and slamming it closed, before rounding the truck and joining Richie in the cab. They took one last look at Richie’s childhood home, Bill’s adopted home too, and waved, before backing out of the driveway and heading down the street in the direction of Bev’s apartment. Richie hummed along to the song that was playing through the speakers. He turned his head to the side and watched Bill carefully.

“Hey, I love you, Denbrough. You know that right?” Richie asked sweetly, scooting closer to Bill across the bench seat. Bill raised his eyebrows a little in surprise before he let out a small chuckle and smiled.

“Y-yeah, I know. I l-love you too, Tozier.” He returned, and threw his right arm over Richie’s shoulders as he drove, leaning in slightly when Richie pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek.

They made it to Bev’s in near record time, Richie snuggling himself into Bill’s side and singing along to the radio softly the whole time. Bil pulled ‘Silver Two’ up to the curb outside of the brick building and shut the engine off. Bev pulled the door open to the apartment before they could even knock.

“Well hot damn, two fine as hell gentleman callers standing at my chamber door. What ever is a lady to do?” She drawled in a fake southern accent, red lips curling into a sultry pout.

“Well my dear, I do declare, that you could invite said gentleman callers in.” Richie returned, matching her accent easily. He leaned forward and brushed a fallen curl out of her face.

“Seems most appropriate, Kind Sir.” She smirked, curtseying as Richie bowed and then walked into the apartment past her. She turned her attention to Bill who was rocking back and forth on his heels with his hands stuffed in his pockets, he looked down at her through the messy locks of hair that always fell in front of his face. “Hey, Bill.” Bev said sweetly, dropping the accent.

“Hi, Bevvy.” He said with a small smile, taking her outstretched hand and following her into the apartment. Bev and Clara’s apartment was eccentric to say the least. It was really more of a studio than a full on living space, but that fit both of them better anyway. There was only one bedroom, and then a loft where Bev’s bed and things were all set up, the rest of the space was just one common room. Bev had all of her things ready and sitting by the couch.

“Ah, Bill and Bev, there you are.” Clara said with a wave of her hand, the bracelets on her wrist clinking together. “I was starting to think that you two had run off into the sunset together and left me here with Richie.” She said with a smile, and Richie scoffed faux insulted.

“Pssssssh. As if. They both love me too much.” Richie replied easily, there was still the smallest amount of doubt about that statement that lived inside of him and most likely always would, but today was a good day and he didn’t want to spoil it by bringing that up.

“Mhmm, you must be fantastic in bed because your personality is meh.” Clara responded, flicking his ear as she walked past him.

“CLARA!” Bev shrieked, and her aunt let out a wicked laugh. Clara had been the first person outside of the Losers Club that they had told about their relationship. It wasn’t at all intentional.

Clara was supposed to be working a double shift, and the three of them were eager to be able to spend some quality time alone. It had been about two weeks since they had returned from the road trip and they hadn’t been able to be intimate since then. Clara’s second shift had been filled by someone else and she came home to see Richie laying on his back completely naked while he gave Bill a blow job and Bev blew him.

Clara had handled it in stride, leaving them to finish before coming back and sitting them all down for a conversation. She was incredibly supportive, and had even gone as far to buy them a wholesale box of condoms and a giant bottle of lube. The three of them had been beyond horrified, but her overall acceptance led to them having the courage to tell Maggie and Wentworth about their relationship. They were skeptical at first, having just warmed up to the idea of Richie and Bill dating each other, but they tried their hardest to be open minded and they truly loved Bev already.

“Sorry, sorry. I have to get the jokes out while you are still here, Marshmallow. I’m covering my sadness with humour.” Clara said pouting slightly, and Bev’s face dropped to match hers. They pulled each other into a tight hug, rocking back and forth slightly. “I’m so proud of you, Munchkin. So proud of you for getting out of this town and following your dreams. You’re going to do great, kid.”

“Thanks, Clara.” Bev said between small sobs, tears running freely down her face. She didn’t have to look to know that Clara wasn’t doing much better. “Fuck, we promised that we wouldn’t do this! You’re coming to visit in a few weeks, we shouldn’t be crying. This should be happy.”

“You’re right.” Clara said pulling back, wiping the tears off of Bev’s face before tending to her own. “You are going to be so amazing, and I’ll see you soon. And you will call every week, if you need anything I will drive the five hours to you.” Clara told her and Bev nodded, pulling her in for another hug.

“I love you, Clara. Thank you for everything.” Bev said genuinely. She meant it too, with all her heart. She didn’t know what she would have done if Clara hadn’t come back to Derry to raise her.

“I love you too, Beverly.” She said before turning on her heel and staring down her niece’s boyfriends. They may have been at least a foot taller than her, but that didn’t make her any less intimidating. “Now you two knuckleheads. You take care of my girl, in that big city. Or I’ll kill you.” She warned and both boys gulped and nodded. “And take care of yourselves and each other too. I am so glad that you three found each other in this way.” She pulled the two boys into a hug and then motioned for Bev to join. They held on for a few minutes before they pulled back. Richie and Bill grabbed Bev’s things and made their way down the stairs and to the truck, leaving Bev alone to have a few more precious moments of farewells with her aunt.

“Bev p-packed lighter t-than you and she’s a g-girl, Richie!” Bill said exasperated, as he shifted Richie’s things around again to make room for Bev’s trunk and suitcases. It was proving to be far more difficult than he had planned.

“It takes a lot of work to look this good, William! Do you want me to age quickly and with a lack of grace? I think not.” Richie punctuated this sentiment by sticking his tongue out at Bill.

“I s-swear to God, if a-all that is in h-here is c-comic books and v-video games, I’m g-going to hurt y-you.” Bill groaned and hopped down from the truck. Richie pouted his lips, unable to argue further, and Bill rolled his eyes before pressing a soft kiss to Richie’s lips.

“Damn, look at those two hot guys kissing. What does a girl have to do to be lucky enough to be in a relationship with both of them? Oh, wait. I already am.” Bev laughed to herself and the boys both rolled their eyes affectionately at her antics.

“Come on, Marshmallow. Get in the truck. Stan probably already has his panties in a wad, and we don’t want to be late for that show.” Richie said as he open the door and motioned for her to climb in. She smacked a sloppy kiss onto his cheek as she climbed in and Richie slid in after her. “Hi ho Silver Two, away!!!” He screamed, tapping his hand on the door. Bill looked over at him with a scowl, but started the truck nonetheless and pulled off down the road.

-*-

“Could you be any less punctual? I’d expect this from the two of them but you, William, really?” Stan asked when they pulled into his driveway, there was a smirk threatening to peak through his stormy expression, and Richie jumped out of the truck and pulled him into a smothering hug.

“Staniel, my love, so glad to see you.” Richie said cheerfully as Bev and Bill moved to join them. “Is everyone else inside? You managed to get Mike’s car all packed up?”

“Yes, they are inside. Where you should have been…” He paused to glance down at his watch to get an accurate number. “Sixteen minutes ago.” He finished, prying Richie’s octopus like limbs off of him.

“I’m s-sorry, Stan. I had to r-re-re-arrange everything in the t-truck like twelve times.” Bill explained as they walked towards Stan’s front door. “Someone p-packed far too m-much.”

“I wonder who that was…” Stan snarked half heartedly as they reached everyone else. Eddie wore a similar expression to the one his boyfriend had been when they had pulled up.

“Do any of you own a watch?” He asked, blinking his eyes incredulously. Richie went to scoop him up in his arms, but Eddie stepped back with a warning glance. “I think that it is time that we discuss some boundaries since we will be living together.”

“O-or we c-could enjoy this l-lovely get together, and n-not start with the d-dramatics?” Bill suggested, and Eddie let out a huff of frustration. He wouldn’t dare challenge Bill’s words. Richie and Bev left them alone to go mingle and find Maggie and Wentworth. “T-thanks, Eds. We can t-talk about s-specifics when w-we get there.”

“Promise?” Eddie asked, holding up his pinky finger towards Bill and Bill let out a small laugh, before raising his pinky to hook with Eddie’s.

“Promise.” Bill replied with a smile. He slung his arm over Eddie’s shoulder and pulled him along with him as he went to find something sweet to eat. Maggie and Andrea had made quite a spread, everything displayed in plastic containers that they could snap the lid on and send off with the kids to take with them.

Bill couldn’t help but wonder if his parents even cared that he was heading so far away. If life had been more simple, less plagued with the Denbrough trauma, maybe they would be here.

“Hey, Baby.” Bev said, sliding up next to him and pulling his hand into her own. “What’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours?” She asked sweetly, and Bill felt his walls breaking down.

“C-can we go s-somewhere else?” He asked softly, and Bev nodded, pulling him along with her until they were in the Uris’ sitting room. Bill sat down and Bev made herself comfortable in his lap, she looked up at him with her caring blue eyes, and Bill felt the tears he had been trying so hard to will away fill his eyes.

“Oh, Billy.” She cooed, and wrapped her arms around him in a comforting hug. Bill buried his face in her hair, it smelled like coconut and it calmed him. She had been using the same brand of shampoo since they were in middle school, and it made him feel at home and grounded. Bev and Richie, and the other Losers, were his home now. He knew that he should accept that but he still hurt.

“W-why don’t they l-love me, Bev?” He choked out. Finally voicing what was swirling around in his brain. Bev pulled back slightly, bracing his face with her delicate hands.

“I don’t know, Bill. I wish I did, I wish I had the words to explain why people do terrible things. I’ve tried to understand for so long.” Bev trailed off slightly, trying to wipe some of her own tears away. “But, what I know is that those people don’t matter. You can choose your family, choose your own path.”

“I k-know.” He sighed, that was an easy concept to accept in theory, but when your own flesh and blood doesn’t want you…it burns. Bev frowned slightly and Bill felt like he needed to rush to clarify. “I j-just…I wish t-things were different. It’s not t-that you a-and Richie d-don’t show me e-enough love.”

“Of course not, Bill. I know what you mean.” She said pulling him into another hug and rocking him back and forth in a soothing motion. “It’s normal for you to crave their attention and love, that doesn’t mean that you’re broken and can’t accept our love. I understand.”

“T-thanks, Ginger Babe.” He sniffled, and Bev smiled at him brightly with the mention of his nickname for her. She brushed some of Bill’s hair out of his face in another soothing manner.

“One last thing before we join the party again…you’re our glue, Denbrough. I need you to know that. With the Losers Club. With our trio, we wouldn’t work without you. Without your kind heart and courageous soul. You make us all better.” She told him sincerely, and Bill could feel the warmth spreading through his chest.

He pressed his lips against Bev’s and she returned the kiss quickly, pouring her love and trust for him into the kiss. They pulled apart and rested their foreheads together.

“Well damn, now I know why you were missing from the party. Getting all warm and cozy in the Uris house and you didn’t bother to invite me!” Richie joked as he entered the room and sat down next to Bill. He picked up on Bill’s red rimmed eyes quickly and shot Bev a look to make sure that they were okay, she nodded at him subtly. “So, Stan wants us to leave in about fifteen. The moms are stocking our vehicles with food right now and then we are going to do our last hugs and goodbyes. Mom and Dad want to talk to you, Bill.” Richie told him and Bill seemed to straighten up a bit, nodding.

“Okay. W-we should go t-then and not keep t-them waiting.” Bill said, lifting Bev off of his lap easily and setting her back on her feet. Richie tilted Bill’s head back towards him and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “W-what was that for?” Bill asked, quirking his eyebrow in confusion.

“Because I love you more than words, William.” Richie told him in a gentle voice that made butterflies erupt in Bill’s stomach. He then followed that sweet gesture up by slapping Bill’s ass and running out of the room before Bill could get back at him.

Bill found Maggie and Wentworth easily when he returned to the main room. He could tell that they had been waiting for him, and it made his nerves act up even more. They had done so much for him, and it worried him now that they wanted to talk to him alone like this. They waved him over, and he stuffed his hands into his pockets as he walked over to them.

“M-mr. and Mrs. Tozier.” He greeted them politely when he reached them, head still ducked a little.

“Bill, how many times do we have to tell you that it’s Maggie and Wentworth. You’re part of the family.” Maggie told him sincerely, resting her hand on his shoulder and Bill flushed a little. He nodded in understanding and she hummed in response.

“We want to make sure that you have everything you need for New York.” Wentworth cut in, and Bill lifted his eyes to meet his, asking for clarification. “You didn’t come to us with a whole lot, and you know as well as we do that Richie is taking way too much with him…”

“HEY! THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS BEING TOO PREPARED DADDY-O!” Richie called from where he was apparently eavesdropping a few feet away. All three of them whipped their heads towards him in slight disbelief that he would interrupt a private moment like that.

“Richard, you are not too old…Just butt out, Kid.” That seemed to be enough to deter Richie from listening in on their conversation or interrupting again. Wentworth took a deep breath to calm his nerves and to focus back on his conversation with Bill. “Like I was saying, Bill, Maggie and I want to send you off to school with a little something that will help you with your writing.” Maggie pulled a wrapped box off of a table behind her and held it out for Bill.

“W-what? No, you d-didn’t have to get m-me anything. You t-took me in…” He trailed off as Maggie gave him another warm smile and pressed the box into his hands. It was a bit heavy and he frowned at that. He set it down and worked on tearing the paper off. He felt tears well up in his eyes when he saw what it was. The words Apple PowerBook 540C were shocking to him. “Oh my God.” He breathed out.

“It’s a portable computer. You can type all of your stories out on it and then save them on disks. The gentleman at the store assured me that this would be perfect for you.” Maggie explained, and Bill set the box down carefully, pulling her into a hug as a few tears slipped down his face.

“T-thank you.” He breathed out and she held his shaking form tighter until he pulled back to give Wentworth a hug as well. “You g-guys are s-so amazing. I d-don’t know what I d-did to deserve y-you.” He told them, still in disbelief.

“You’re our son now, William. You don’t have to do anything to deserve what you need.” Wentworth told him, and Maggie nodded in agreement. Bill ducked his head again and scuffed the toe of his shoe across the carpet, his thoughts of his birth parents from earlier flooding his mind, and he realized how right Bev had been. Biology wasn’t what was important, it is actions that matter more. He took a deep breath.

“Uhm, I’ve w-wanted to ask y-you this f-for a l-little bit…” He started, and Maggie looked at him a little concerned, so he just steeled his nerves and continued. “W-would it be o-okay if I c-called you Mom a-and Dad?” He asked, his stutter increasing with his nerves in this stressful admission.  

“Oh Bill, of course!” Maggie clapped her hands over her mouth, tears of happiness making their way into her eyes. “I would love that, I really would.” She told him before pulling him into another hug. Wentworth patted him on the back, a look of pride in his own eyes.

“Well, Son, it looks like everyone else is packing up and saying their goodbyes, so let’s get you and this computer out into the truck.” He told him and Bill nodded, lifting the box and holding it to his chest. Richie was waiting for them by the front door.

“Damn, Billy. What do you have there?” Richie asked, eyes widening as he read the words on the box. “You bought him a computer? You wouldn’t even buy me a new walkman!” Richie squawked, and Bill rolled his eyes. He knew that Richie didn’t actually begrudge him, they both loved each other too much for that.

“Uh huh, and what exactly happened to your last walkman, Richard?” Wentworth asked and Richie’s snappy reply died in his throat.

“Alright, Father. I can not fight you on that point.” Richie conceded. “I’ll just have to borrow Bill’s.” He said.

“So t-that mine c-could meet a s-similar fate?” Bill asked with a raise of his eyebrows and Richie stuck his tongue out at him. Bill secured his new computer in the cab of his truck, helping Bev to climb up into the truck as well since she was holding a container of dozens of cookies, before he turned back to the Toziers.

“I guess it is time to say goodbye…” Richie started, and Bill could see that his cocky exterior was starting to melt away. He was going to miss his parents more than he could say. They hadn’t always understood him, but they had supported him. “Mom.” He croaked before pulling her into a hug. She held him close, and stroked up and down his back like she had when he was a child, though he was much taller now.

“T-thanks for e-ev-verything, Dad.” Bill said before holding his hand out for a shake like the men in his family had always done, but this was met with a slight eye roll as Wentworth pulled him into another hug. When they pulled back Richie shot him a look of question that also held pride and love, before they swapped parents for hugs. “I l-love you, Mom. T-thank you.” Bill told Maggie as she hugged him, with just the same warmth as she had hugged Richie with.

“I love you too, Bill. I love both of you boys so much.” She said pulling them both into a group hug. Wentworth let out a slight chuckle at the sight and quickly snapped a picture with his camera.

“Okay, okay. Time for you two to go.” He told them and they all nodded, pulling away from Maggie. “Now this isn’t forever, we will be coming down to the city in three weeks to see Bill’s first game, and you will be back here for Thanksgiving.” He told them, and they all knew that it was true, but that this was still a major step.

“You’re right.” Richie said with a smile, and they all headed over to the truck. Richie and Bill slid into their seats and buckled up.

“Bye, Bev. I wish you all of the luck, Sweetheart. You take care of our boys, they need a strong woman to guide them, and you my dear fit the bill.” Maggie said through the open window, and Bev smiled back at her in thanks. “You have a safe drive, and one of you call me when you get settled in tomorrow night. Let me know that you are safe and alive.”

“Of c-course, Mom.” Bill told her, liking the way that it rolled off of his tongue and the feeling of having parents who cared about him again. He backed carefully out of the driveway, waving at everyone one last time before they were on their way.

Bill followed Mike’s car, careful not to lose sight of it, as they headed out of Derry and towards their future.

-*-

“LAND! SOLID LAND!” Richie cried as he flung himself out of the truck and onto the pavement of the sidewalk outside of their apartment building. It was late, just after midnight, but they still had to get all of their things up to their apartment before they could park the vehicles in the garage and actually get some rest.

“Bev, b-baby it’s time to w-wake up. We’re h-here.” Bill said gently, trying to coax her out of her sleep. She had curled up between the two of them and fallen asleep with her head against Bill’s shoulder sometime while they were driving through Connecticut. Her eyes started fluttering open and she groaned as she came back to the world of the living. “T-there’s my s-sweet Ginger Babe.” Bill said with a smile, looking down at her fondly.

“Mmmm, Billy, What time is it?” She groaned, blinking a few times, before letting out a small yawn. Bill tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear.

“Just after m-midnight.” Bill told her and she nodded. She diverted her attention to where Richie was talking to Stan and Eddie in front of the truck. Mike, Vic, and Ben were already working on unloading what they could from Mike’s SUV.

“We should get to it then, get all of our things upstairs before we all collapse from sleep exhaustion.” Bev suggested, shooting Bill a wink. He nodded and they both slid out of the truck.

As a team they decided that Richie would stay down on the street to police the area and make sure that no one took their things or vehicles while they were upstairs. It was Stan’s idea and honestly the rest of them agreed. Sleep deprived Richie was even raunchier and more aggressively inappropriate than regular Richie. So they all decided for their sanity and the swiftness of their mission that the rest of them would just ferry all of the luggage upstairs.

They were split into two apartments right across the hall from each other on the top floor of the apartment building. The couples had been assigned to the two bedroom apartment while Mike, Ben, and Vic got the three bedroom apartment, glad to each have their own room and space.

“Holy shit.” Bev gasped as she opened the door to their apartment. It was even better than they could have imagined, and it was theirs. It was all brick interiors, with a staircase that led up to a balcony with rooftop access. The bedrooms were on opposite sides of the apartment, and they both had their own bathrooms. There was a decent sized kitchen and eating area, that already had a table. It might be a tight fit with all eight of them, but Losers Club dinners were a must. There was also a big comfy couch and two chairs set up, they just needed to add a television. It had all the essentials, they just had to add the love, and there was no shortage of that with them.

“It’s perfect.” Eddie said from his spot beside her, and the two of them looked at each other and shared a smile.

“Alright, as happy as I love seeing you both, and you know that it truly thaws my cold heart, can we get everything inside the apartment so that we can sleep? Please?” Stan asked, cutting in as he set a few of his and Eddie’s bags on the floor.

“I a-agree with, Stan. B-bed sounds g-good.” Bill said with a yawn, and both Eddie and Bev melted a little at the sight of how cute it was. They nodded and quickly dropped off their loads before heading back down to the vehicles.

It was one thirty when all eight of them had finally managed to get all of their possessions into the building and Mike and Bill went to park their vehicles in their assigned spots under the building.

Bev and Richie made the bed while they waited for Bill, piling pillows and soft quilts and blankets on top of it just the way they liked. They had just finished when Bill walked into their bedroom and closed the door behind him.

“Come to bed, Baby.” Richie cooed, and Bill nearly flung himself into his arms. Richie held him close to his chest while Bev headed into the bathroom to change. She took her time brushing her teeth and washing her face. Enjoying the feeling of doing it in HER space for once. She slipped a nightie over her head and walked back into the bedroom.

“Aww.” She let out as she took in the sight in front of her. Bill and Richie were curled around each other, fast asleep in their bed. Bev wished that she had her camera readily available to capture the moment, but settled for the mental memory instead. She set the alarm clock for all three of them, they all had orientations in the morning that they had to be at no matter how late they had gotten to bed.

She pulled back the sheet to slide in, and pulled the blankets back over the boys and herself before snuggling right up to them. Richie threw his arm around her in his sleep and she smiled doing the same to him as Bill laid sandwiched in between them.

-*-

Bev took a look at the building in front of her. Parsons School of Design. She couldn’t believe it, fashion was her dream, it had been for so long and now she was so close. She walked towards the door, and was jared when a much larger body ran into hers.

“Ah fuck.” She let out as she landed against the pavement, the skin on the palms of her hands were scraped and she felt discombobulated.

“Oh my God, I am so sorry!” A voice was telling her, she looked up to see a man around her age, with slicked back brown hair and clothes that screamed that they were designer. He reached a hand down to help pull her to her feet, and Bev gratefully accepted.

“It’s totally fine, I should have been watching where I was going.” Bev nodded to him slightly, trying to smooth out her outfit and accessing the damage.

“Well, I should have been more focused on walking then staring at this pretty redhead that was in front of me.” The guy said with a smirk, and Bev quirked an eyebrow at him. Was this dude seriously hitting on her right now? “I’m Tom, Tom Rogan.” He said, holding his hand out for her to shake.

“Beverly Marsh.” She supplied, shaking his hand. She could see that more people were heading inside the school now. “Well I should get going, I have orientation. It was nice meeting you.”

“Oh, you go here too. Awesome. Maybe we can sit together.” Tom suggested, already moving towards the steps of the building. Bev nodded and followed him into the building. She figured that there was no harm in sitting next to him for a little bit.

-*-

“Billlllllllllllllllll.” Richie groaned as they walked quickly across the NYU campus towards the building that was housing the beginning program for the welcome weekend orientation. They had gotten a bit of a late start, well in terms of Stan’s predetermined schedule, and now the seven of them were rushing to get to their seats and packets before the auditorium got too packed.

“Richie, you a-are not d-dying.” Bill told him again, as he grabbed his hand and pulled him along. Richie groaned again, but didn’t say anything more, trying to conserve his energy to actually breathe. He really needed to lay off the cigarettes.

“Oof, we are here!” Mike announced, a signature smile spreading across his face. “And we got some exercise in. Doesn’t that feel great, boys?” He asked and received groans from Richie and Vic.

“Yeah, we are definitely getting you two on workout regimes. You could always come on runs with Eddie and I in the mornings.” Ben said, patting Vic on his back from where he was hunched over and gasping for breath. “You’re a dance major…isn’t physical endurance a big part of that?” He asked and Vic flipped him off before righting himself and looking far more composed than he had seconds before.

“Let’s go ahead and head in.” Eddie said, ending the conversation before it turned into an argument and ending his boyfriend’s fidgeting beside him. They all nodded and followed him into the lobby, separating only to find the tables that housed their packets by alphabetical order, then joining back up as they found seats together in the semi crowded auditorium. They had only been sitting a few minutes, before Bill noticed that Richie was worrying at his lip and bouncing his leg.

“Babe, a-are you okay?” He asked, and Richie snapped out of his own thoughts, turning towards his boyfriend with a pouty look on his face.

“I miss Bev.” He let out, and Bill cocked his head to the side a bit at that admission. “I know, I know, that sounds stupid because we just saw her this morning, but…she won’t be going through this whole experience with us. She’s going to have her own experience. What if she realizes that we aren’t worth her time while she’s meeting all of those fancy designers…?” Richie frowned further at that thought.

“It’s g-going to be okay, Rich. Even h-here at NYU w-we will have d-different experiences. W-we won’t a-all be together.” Bill explained and Richie’s lip began to quiver at the thought. “No no no, t-that’s not w-what I meant, Richie.” He tried to sooth. But got an elbow in the ribs from Stan telling him to hush so that he could pay attention. Richie didn’t look like his mood was improving, so Bill’ grabbed his hand and rubbed circles over it with his thumb.

They had made it about an hour through the three hour presentation when Richie began squirming in his seat again, and Bill looked over at him with furrowed eyebrows. They had turned the lights down so that the main focus would be on the speaker on the stage, but Bill could see the unfortunately familiar look of sadness written across Richie’s features. He gulped and turned to Stan.

“Richie and I h-have to step o-out for a m-minute.” He whispered, and Stan looked at him concerned, before Bill shook his head. “Everything is f-fine, just t-take notes for m-me?” He asked and Stan nodded in affirmation that he would, Bill grabbed Richie’s hand, pulling him up as they both crouched and tried to exit the auditorium without disrupting too many people.

They made it out into the lobby but there were still too many people, so he kept tugging him down a long hallway until he found a men’s restroom. He checked under the stalls to make sure they were alone before turning on his heel to find Richie slumped over, leaning against the sinks.

“Okay, t-talk to me, Baby.” Bill said, smoothing his hands over his jeans as he approached Richie. Richie didn’t answer him, just stayed in the same position. “Richie, I c-can’t fix it if I d-don’t know what’s g-going on.” He tried again, and Richie finally lifted his head to look at him.

“Everything is moving so fast. My head is spinning.” Richie muttered, and Bill had to grab him before he slid down onto the questionable tiled floor. “What if everything changes? What if you and Bev get tired of me? You end up together, or you meet people in your majors and decide that you like them more? I’m an anxious mess because Bev is fifteen minutes away starting her life, why would you want to be with someone like that?” He finished, his eyes glazing over with tears.

“Hey, I’m n-not going to p-pretend to know w-what the future will h-hold, but I can t-tell you that we w-will always be t-together. I will n-never stop l-loving you or Bev. I’m in t-this for the l-long haul. You c-can ask Bev but I’m s-sure that she w-will say the s-same.” Bill told him, and Richie nodded but Bill could tell that his words hadn’t fully hit him yet. “Richie, Baby, w-what can I do t-to make you f-feel better?” Bill asked, resting his hands on Richie’s hips. Richie glazed over eyes suddenly had a wicked glint in them.

“Mmmm, you really want to know?” Richie asked with surprising clarity in his voice, and Bill groaned slightly.

“Richie, are you f-fuh-fucking serious right now? A m-minute ago you w-were in a d-depressive episode and n-now you’re horny?” Bill scoffed, stepping back to cross his arms over his chest and look at Richie.

“I’m sorry? You know that I can’t help it. Plus you telling me that you’ll always love me, that’s super sexy.” Richie reasoned and Bill rolled his eyes again.

“Confession of l-love equals h-hookup in b-bathroom? You d-do realize that w-we are m-missing the orientation p-presentation right now, right?” Bill asked and Richie had the decency to at least look somewhat ashamed.

“You’re really hot when you’re tired of my bullshit.” Richie muttered, leaning forward until he was in Bill’s space. Bill pinched the bridge of his nose trying to regain his composure.

“B-big stall, let’s g-go.” He instructed and Richie nearly squealed with excitement. Bill locked the stall door behind him and pushed Richie up against the tiled wall. “You are g-going to be s-super quiet? Understand?” He asked, and Richie nodded, miming that he was zipping his lips.

Bill sighed once more before dropping to his knees in front of Richie. Richie gasped at the implication, and tilted his head back so that it was resting against the wall. Bill undid the button of Richie’s ripped jeans and slid them down his legs just to mid thigh, he pushed Richie’s undershirt up his stomach and motioned for Richie to keep it up. Richie did as he was instructed to do and moved his neon printed hawaiian shirt out of the was as well.

Richie’s groin was still clothed in his gray boxer briefs and Richie groaned out a little in frustration. Bill pressed his index finger over his lips, warning Richie to be quiet, before he began mouthing the tip of Richie’s cock through the thin material. He pulled back after a moment and hummed in satisfaction at the wet spot that had formed where the tip of Richie’s swollen cock was poking through the briefs. Richie moaned at the loss of sensation.

Bill hooked his fingers in the elastic of the waistband and pulled it down slowly, until it joined Richie’s jeans. Richie’s cock sprang free, in all of its rock hard glory. Richie sighed in relief, but it got tangled with a choked out moan when Bill grasped the based of his cock in his hand, squeezing as he stroked up and down a few times.

“Fuck, Bill. Do it, Baby. Please.” Richie cried out, and Bill dropped his hand from Richie’s dick, warning him to be more quiet. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll be quiet.” Richie whisper promised, and Bill grasped his cock again.

He let his breath ghost over the sensitive slit, and let let his tongue dip in, ever so slightly, collecting a pearly drop of precum on his tongue. He moaned quietly at the taste, and slid his lips down, only around the head and hollowed his cheeks out. Richie writhed at the sensation, biting his fist to keep him from making noise.

Bill let his tongue toy with the sensitive ridge under the head of Richie’s cock before sliding his mouth all the way down Richie’s shaft, until he could feel him pushing down his throat. He swallowed around Richie’s cock before pulling back and sliding down again. He repeated the motion over and over again, hollowing out his cheeks as he went, to make it tighter and more pleasurable for Richie. He reached his hand up to cup Richie’s balls, rolling them gently between his fingers.

He could feel how close Richie was getting now. Richie’s had one hand in a fist that he was biting, and his other hand was wound in Bill’s hair, urging him to take him deeper and faster. He let Richie slide further down his throat and stayed there, pressing his finger against Richie’s perineum, and then Richie was cumming in thick long ropes down Bill’s throat. Bill waited until he had swallowed all of Richie’s cum before he pulled off, and stood up. He felt slightly light headed and his neck felt stiff.

Richie pulled his boxers and jeans back up, as Bill moved his head back and forth, trying to pop his neck to get some relief. He stepped out of the stall and began washing his hands. Richie joined him as he cupped his hand and brought some of the water to his mouth, swishing it around before spitting it out. He repeated the action once more and checked his appearance in the mirror to make sure that he didn’t look obviously disheveled. When he deemed himself acceptable, he met Richie at the door and they headed back down the hallways through the lobby and into the auditorium.

“Are you fucking serious, Bill?” Stan asked in disgust when they had returned to their seats. He dug through his bag for something before offering a small metal container to Bill. “Oh my God, here take a mint. If you think that you’re getting my notes because you had to go get your boyfriend off you’ve got another thing coming. Absolutely ridiculous.”

When the presentation was over they were all split into tour groups based on the field of study that they would be entering. Richie was grateful that he got to spend the rest of the day in a group with Vic, happy to not be all by himself, but he couldn’t wait to be home with his loves again.

-*-

“BEV! You’re back! Thank God!” Richie screamed as she walked through the door of the apartment, he flung himself over the couch and ran to her grabbing her in his arms and swinging her through the air. She let out a little giggle, and smiled up at him when he put her back down.

“Glad to see me?” She asked him, and he nodded enthusiastically. She turned to Bill who shook his head and she knew there was more to this story. “Richie, you couldn’t have possibly missed me. We were apart for like six hours.” She told him as she moved towards their room so that she could kick off her heels and take off her bra. Bill and Richie followed her, closing their door behind them.

“Marshmallow, I missed you, give me snuggles.” Richie said with a pout as he flopped himself on their bed. Bev let out a snort as she turned to Bill again.

“Has he been like this all day long?” Bev asked, slipping her shirt over her head. She unclasped her bra and sighed in relief.

“Y-you have no i-idea, Babe.” Bill sighed, pushing a stray piece of hair out of her face, and letting his hand grace her shoulder. “Richie m-missed you so much t-that he c-co-omplained the entire w-walk to campus, then f-freaked out during the p-presentation so that I would t-take him out of the a-au-uditorium, and then w-when I tried to get h-him to talk to me in the b-bathroom, he propositioned m-me and wouldn’t s-st-top pouting until I buh-blew him, all in the n-name of r-relieving his sadness.”

There was a silent pause for about ten seconds before Bev let out a howl of laughter and collapsed against Bill’s chest, laughing so hard that she couldn’t support herself. Bill helped Bev to the bed so that she could roll around on the mattress in hysterics. Bill couldn’t help laughing a bit at her reaction, it was a little ridiculous but charming in a way that only Bev could be. Richie sat on the bed pouting at his partners with his arms crossed as they laughed at him.

“Nice guys, I was really upset and you are laughing at me. Like it’s so absurd to be worried about our status now that our surroundings have changed!” He huffed and Bev stopped laughing at once.

“Richie, you have nothing to worry about. We are all still together, just because I’m going to a school a few miles down the road doesn’t change anything. Stop worrying so much.” Bev told him, running a hand through his unruly curls.

“But I can’t stop worrying because I loooooooooooove you. I love both of you and I want us to be together always.” Richie said, a tad petulant not unlike a child.

“Please, Rich. If anything you two will get tired of me.” Bev confessed, ducking her head slightly. Bill and Richie sucked in breathes at that admission, they thought that they had done a good job at making sure that Bev knew how they felt about her.

“Bev, w-we are never g-going to get tired of y-you.” Bill assured her, sitting down on the bed next to her. Richie nodded in agreement, but Bev still looked unsure. Richie and Bill looked at each other, they knew exactly how to make their girl feel loved.

“You don’t believe us when we tell you, Baby, so how about you let us show you? I mean, here we are in our New York apartment with a view…seems only right that we break it in. Don’t you think, Bill?“ Richie suggested smoothly, and Bill nodded.

“I t-think the p-perfect way w-would to make our girl c-cum so many t-times that she can’t e-even remember her own n-name or ours. W-would you like t-that, Baby Girl?” Bill asked and Bev groaned in anticipation, she knew that they would make good on their promise.

“Fuck yes, let’s make this place really ours.” Her words were met with two wicked smiles from her boys.

“Okay, Baby Girl, lay back.” Richie instructed.

Bev did as she was told, resting her head on their plush stack of pillows. Richie smiled down at her, pressing a heated kiss to her lips. Bill ran his fingertips lightly down the valley between her breasts, watching as goosebumps rose on her skin.

Bev did as she was told, resting her head on their plush stack of pillows. Richie smiled down at her, pressing a heated kiss to her lips. Bill ran his fingertips lightly down the valley between her breasts, watching as goosebumps rose on her skin.

“You k-know, Bev. There’s b-been something I’ve w-wanted to try…” Bill started and Bev groaned pulling away from her kiss with Richie to pay attention to what Bill was saying. “I heard t-that if you d-do it just r-right, you can m-make a girl cum j-just from playing w-with her nipples.” He said, mouth curling into a smirk.

“Fuuuuuuck, Billy. Please. I want to try.” Bev moaned, and Bill chuckled slightly. He pulled a small bottle of lavender massage oil out of the pocket of his duffle bag. Richie busied himself by starting to kiss and suck on Bev’s neck, just the way she liked it. Bev tried to focus as she watched “You really had that waiting in there? Is there lube and condoms in there too?” Bev teased with a quirk of her eyebrow. Bill rolled his eyes, of course he had those on hand as well, but that was beside the point.

“Do you w-want to sit here and b-be snarky or h-have me play with y-your nips until y-you are screaming o-out and creaming your p-panties?” Bill asked, and Bev’s eyes went wide, face begging him to please her. “That’s w-what I thought.” He said smugly, pressing a kiss to her lips.

Bill pulled back and drizzled some of the oil on the fingertips of his right hand rubbing them together to warm the oil slightly, before spreading some to his left hand as well. Bev moaned deeply as Richie began sucking just above her pulse point, driving her wild. Bill gently cupped Bev’s right breast and began massaging it lightly. Kneading the mound in his hand. He did the same with his left, both hands working her at the same time. He began lightly running the fingers of his right hand around her breast, tracing her areola and the curve underneath, but never her nipple, building the sensations and pleasure until her right nipple was hard and peaked. Bev arched her back off the bed. She was held mostly in place by Richie, who was still assaulting her neck.

“Ugh, fuck, Bill, please.” Bev moaned, and Bill knew that he had her in the perfect spot. He let his thumb run across her nipple ever so slightly and she nearly howled from the feeling. Bill smirked before dropping his head down and taking her erect nipple in his mouth and began sucking on it. He paid special attention to Bev’s breathing judging how wound up she was. He pulled back slightly and blew a cool breath over her wet nipple. “Ohhhh, ohhhh fuuuuuck.” Bev bit out. Bill began to squeeze her nipple as he moved to the other side, once again taking her sensitive bud in his mouth and suckling on it.

Bev had tears in her eyes. She couldn’t believe how close she was to toppling over the edge, she just needed a little more. She closed her eyes, letting the pleasure wash over her, and then Richie’s lips were gone from her neck and she felt wet mouths on both of her nipples, sucking and grazing their teeth over her sensitive peaks. She felt as if her core was vibrating, her pelvic muscles tensing, and then she was cumming. She let out a long moan, and Bill and Richie pressed soft kisses to her boobs before pulling away from the sensitive flesh.

Richie pulled Bill in for a hot kiss, hovering above Bev’s heaving chest. She watched as Richie’s tongue slipped into Bill’s mouth, and Bill tilted his head giving him more leverage. They pulled back after another few moments, breathing hard in each other’s faces, eyes clouded with lust. Richie turned his head to look at Bev.

“That was one, Baby Girl. Are you ready for another?” He asked, already moving down her body to work open the zipper on her skirt. Bill busied himself by pulling his own shirt over his head, wiping the remnants of the massage oil on it.

“Yes, please, Richie.” Bev moaned out before pulling Bill half on top of her so that she could ravage his lips with her own. Richie pulled Bev’s skirt off and let his fingers trace the lacey edge of her panties, before tugging those down her legs as well. He dropped them to the floor and Bev spread her legs wide for him.

Richie pressed light kisses down the insides of her thighs, tickling her sensitive skin with his fresh stubble. He made his way to her sweet center, pressing a kiss to her clit, and watched as her hips lifted off the bed, trying to follow his mouth. Richie wasted no more time and latched his mouth onto her clit, sucking the sensitive button of nerves in his mouth and flicking over it mercilessly with his tongue. Bev broke her kiss with Bill to let out another high pitched moan, hips bucking as he overworked her.

Richie didn’t let up, he kept up his brutal pace, balancing Bev just on the edge of painful and pleasurable. Her legs were shaking as they moved to close around his head. Bill pulled away from their kiss and moved down the bed, helping to hold her legs apart so Richie could continue. After another moment, Bev felt the spasms of orgasm take over her body for the second time, her pussy pulsing leaking more of her juices. Richie pulled off quickly, and then before she had even had time to breath, Bill was fucking into her pussy with his tongue.

Bev bucked her hips, as Bill lapped up all that her body would give him. He pulled back from her and blew a teasing breath over her clit, watching with fascination as it twitched in interest.

“That was two, Marshmallow, and Bill is about to pull out a third. How are you feeling, Darling?” Richie asked sweetly, checking in on their girl. Bev’s face and chest were flushed with arousal, her eyes clouded over with lust, giving into pleasure and how her body was aching for everything they would give her.

“You…you’re both…make me feel so good.” Bev gasped, trying to form words, but her brain couldn’t focus on anything but Bill’s tongue. “M-make me yours.” She cried out finally.

Bill let his tongue trace over her clit lightly. He stiffened his tongue and began to make determined movements. W. Bev’s hips twitched trying to get closer. I. Richie pressed a hot kiss to Bev’s mouth swallowing her moans. L. Bev’s brain started to connect what Bill was doing with his tongue, struggling to keep up. L. Bill traced another letter across her clit with the tip of his tongue. I. Bev could feel the coil tightening in her stomach again. A. Bill was tracing his name on her, staking his claim. M. The final letter marked Bev’s third orgasm, her swollen clit twitching as her muscles tightened again and again, contracting with release.

Bill immediately pulled back and plunged one finger into the hot heat of Beverly’s pussy, pumping in and out easily with how slick she was. He added another finger, and she squirmed with how oversensitive her body was.

“T-that was t-three. H-how are you d-doing, Babe. T-talk to me.” Bill let out, pumping hard and fast into her heat with his long fingers.

“Jesus fuck. Good. God, Bill.” Bev let out, and Bill nodded, thrusting a third finger in beside his other two and crooked his fingers, searching her inner walls for her spot. He knew that he had found it as soon as he saw her legs start to shake again, and he crooked his fingers once more and nailed the spot with pressure, pushing Bev over the edge and giving her her fourth orgasm of the evening. “Ahhhhhh. Holy.”

“What d-do you t-think, Rich?” Bill asked, pulling his fingers out of Bev and turning his attention to Richie. Richie hummed in response, to show that he was listening. “S-should we let h-her off the hook yet? She’s t-taken four so b-beautifully.” Richie seemed to think it over for a few seconds, watching Bev’s face before he shook his head.

“Nahhhhhhh. She can take more.” Richie let out, and Bill nodded in agreement. Bev moaned from her position on the bed at the thought of even more.

“H-hands and knees, Girlie.” Bill instructed, and Bev scrambled to do so. “Richie, y-you can go f-first.” Bill said, before obscenely licking Bev’s remaining juices from his fingers and pushing his pants and boxers down his legs, leaving him fully naked. Richie moved behind Bev, having already shed his clothing and slid a condom down his length while Bill was working on fingering her, and Bill positioned himself in front of Bev.

Bill pushed the tip of his cock against Bev’s lips, forcing it into her waiting mouth. As soon as she had taken him in, Richie was thrusting into her pussy from behind. Bev let out a scream like moan from the feeling as she tried to keep Bill in her mouth. Bill and Richie began to work in a coordinated rhythm, thrusting in at the same time on their respective ends of Bev so that they could share kisses.

Richie began thrusting harder and deeper in Bev, pulling her legs wider to get better access. The overstimulation of her body was becoming too much for Bev, she could feel every stroke as her body throbbed. Desperate for release and rest at the same time. Richie pumped in three more times before Bev’s whole body shook and she was cumming for the fifth time. Bill pulled out of her mouth and braced her so that she didn’t fall face first into the mattress.

“Y-you’re okay, Princess. We’ve g-got you.” Bill soothed her, as she buried her face in his shoulder. Richie pulled Bev up, and pressed sweet kisses to her face and neck. Bill laid down flat on the bed, sliding a condom down over his length before beginning to stroke his hard cock lazily as he watched Richie comfort Bev.

“Okay, Bev, you’re going to sit on Bill’s fat cock now, you’re going to make him feel really good, Baby Girl. You’ve done five already, I think you can handle a few more.” Bev’s eyes went wide at the suggestion.

“I don’t…I can’t…it’s too much.” Bev sobbed out, and Bill sat up immeadiatley looking worried that they had overdone it, asked too much of her body. He rubbed his thumb over her cheeks, looking into her pretty blue eyes.

“We c-can be d-done now, Baby.” Bill assured, always putting Bev’s needs and comfort above his, like he should. Bev shook her head slightly, and Bill cocked his eyebrow at her in confusion. “W-what’s your color, Princess?” He asked. Bev took a deep breath.

“Green. Lay back, Billy. I’m good, I want to make you feel good.” Bev said, and Bill still looked unsure, but did what she asked him to. Richie helped her get into position, lifting her up so that she could straddle Bill. He held his cock in position so that Bev could slide down on it with a loud moan. “Fuuuuuuuck, you’re so big, Bill.” She let out, and Bill smiled brightly up at her. Richie rolled his eyes slightly and Bill’s reaction, he didn’t need any more fuel to the ‘Big Bill’ debate.

Richie sat behind Bev, straddling Bill’s legs and placed his hands on her hips, helping her move up and down in rhythm as she rode him. Lifting her up so that she could drop back down on his thick cock. Bev could feel his pubic bone rub against her raw clit ever time she slid down, she ground into it with more determination, feeling like her body was on fire. The stimulation had her cumming again in no time, crying out as her body contracted and squeezed around Bill.

Richie kept one arm around her, forcing her to continue riding Bill. Bev did so easily, taking deep breaths as she braced herself with one hand holding Richie’s arm where it was supporting her, and the other resting on Bill’s chest.

Bill lifted one of his hands to lace his fingers with Bev’s, letting it stay rested on his chest. With his other hand he traced over her left nipple slightly, tweaking the bud between his index finger and thumb. Beverly moaned out at the feeling.

Richie pressed a kiss to her shoulder before he pulled back from her. His hands made their way to her ass, pulling her cheeks apart and watching Bill’s cock disappear into her pussy over and over again. Richie squeezed some lube onto his fingers, making sure that three of them were coated nicely. He began to circle her second hole with his lubed up index finger, and Bev let out a long whine. He eased his first finger in to the knuckle, careful to let her get used to the feeling of being plugged in both holes before he pulled his finger out slightly and thrusted back in with more ease.

Bev’s thighs were shaking again, her chest heaving in exhaustion, clinging to Bill like he was her only lifeline. Richie started thrusting his finger in a bit more freely, pushing deeper inside of her with his long fingers. Bev was overwhelmed by the feeling of being so full and her body released once again, cumming on Bill’s cock for the second time in ten minutes. Bev fell forward, truly exhausted, but still impaled on Bill’s cock with Richie’s finger in her ass.

Bill wound his arms around her, staying very still, and cradling her to his chest. He began running his fingers through her pretty red curls, whispering sweet nothings to her. Bev buried her face into the crook of Bill’s neck, enjoying the sweet intimacy of it, while he was still hard inside of her and Richie was thrusting two fingers in and out of her, preparing her ass to take his cock. On one thrust she scrunched up her face and whimpered from the sensitivity, Bill turned his head to look at her, making sure that she was okay.

“I’m okay, Billy…it’s a lot, but I’m okay…I promise.” She whispered, looking into his concerned blue eyes. “I would…I would tell you if it was too much.” She promised again and Bill nodded, pressing a sweet kiss to her lips.

Richie hummed in satisfaction at how stretched Bev was, and pulled back, coating his bare cock with a generous amount of lube. He moved back into position, running a soothing hand down Beverly’s spine.

“Are you ready to take me now, Bev?” He asked, and Bev nodded towards him before clinging tighter to Bill. Richie placed the head of his cock against her second hole, letting the head stretch the gaping muscle even more before he began to push in slowly. “Ah ahhh ahhhhh.” Bev cried into Bill’s neck. Her body overworked and tired.

“You’re o-okay, Princess. I’ve g-got you. You’re okay.” Bill told her over and over again, staying calm and still within her, letting Richie thrust in and out of her ass slowly and do most of the work. Bev pulled back slightly, resting her hands on Bill’s shoulders and trying to adjust her hips to be more comfortable. Bill rubbed his thumb gently over her nipple, her tits plump and swollen with her arousal. He dropped his thumb down between her legs, rubbing circles over her swollen clit. He eased her towards the edge again, and Bev barely felt herself tightening around Bill and Richie’s cocks while another orgasm burned through her body, her entire being shaking and muscles taught.

“Come on baby, we are so close, you can give us one more right?” Richie asked, pulling Bev up to hold her tight to his chest, helping her bounce up and down on their cocks. Bev nodded, silent tears rolling down her cheeks, overcome by the pleasure of being taken apart so many times by her boys.

Richie thrusted in and out of her a few more times before he was pumping his creamy load deep in her ass. He pulled out only as his aftershocks ceased, allowing Bill to begin thrusting up into her, far more gently now, constantly checking in for her comfort. Then Richie’s tongue was at her hole, licking his cum up as it began to drip out of her spent and gaping hole. Bev screamed out at the sensation, clenching around Bill and cumming for the ninth time. In the process of reaching her climax, she pulled Bill’s orgasm out of him as well. The two of them stayed still, trying to control their breathing as Bill released his full load into the condom.

Bill lifted Bev off of his softening cock and eased her onto her back. She laid boneless and open on the bed, and Richie stroked her forehead sweetly as Bill stepped into the bathroom to grab a washcloth and dispose of his condom. Her body was flushed and weak with the force of nine orgasms having pulsed through her body.

Bill returned, easing her thighs apart so that he could clean her up. Richie joined him, and they both pressed sweet kisses to her inner thighs, taking in the sight of her two gaping hole and swollen red clit. Richie couldn’t resist, he leaned forward and licked a stripe up her abused pussy and clit, causing Bev’s thighs to spasm. Bill leaned forward as well and blew a cool breath across her clit, the simple action causing her pussy to clench once more and release with her tenth orgasm of the night.

“If you try to do that again, I will kill you. That’s enough.” Bev mumbled, burying her face deeper in the pile of pillows. Richie chuckled a little, but lifted himself to lay beside her and hold her in his arms. Bill cleaned her up carefully, wary of how sore and sensitive she was. He tossed the rag on the floor and joined the two of them on her other side, pulling their blankets over them.

Bev sighed at the feeling of being held close and sandwiched between her boys. Bill and Richie pressed soft and sweet kisses to her neck, cheeks, and head.

“You did so good for us, Bevvy. Absolutely amazing. Look how strong and beautiful you are.” Richie whispered into her hair, in awe of how special their girl was. “We love you so much, Baby Girl. So so much.” Bill hummed in agreement before he tensed slightly.

“F-fuck. I forgot to c-call Mom and Dad.” He said, looking over at Richie who just rolled his eyes at him.

“We just made our Princess fall apart ten times and you are thinking of our parents…Jesus Christ, William. I am disappointed. Just call them in the morning.” Richie muttered and Bill went to snark but was cut off by Bev.

“If they are both of your parents now,” She started but paused to let out a yawn. “Does that mean that I just got fucked by brothers?” She asked, a bit deliriously with a smirk evident in her tone. Bill groaned at the thought, but Richie let out a snort.

“I think it’s best that we just go to sleep and don’t think about that too much.” He said, wrinkling his nose slightly. Bev and Bill nodded in agreement, letting their eyes close and drifted into sleep. Richie watched them for a few minutes, enjoying the peaceful looks on their faces before he laid back and let sleep take him as well.