#someone please write monster Richie | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alwaysahiccupandastrid · 1 year ago

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🪓 Nerdy Prudes Must Die - Some Thoughts 🪓

I decided to rewatch NPMD (second day in a row 🙈) and wanted to write down some random thoughts and reactions because why the fuck not 😌

‼️ SPOILERS FOR NPMD BELOW ‼️

I loved this show from the second it started omg I love things about murder 🤭

“Riiiiichie… Riiiiiichie…” — kind of gave off IT vibes ngl

They really killed off Jon Matteson’s nerd character in the first 35 seconds 💀

“They twisted his nipples off 🤣” - WHY WAS HE SO HAPPY ABOUT IT

THE PROJECTION OF THE TITLE IN THE VICTIM’S BLOOD, STARKID HAD HELLA BUDGET FOR THIS SHOW 🙌🏻

“🎵I’m dead…the blood is arbitrating from my head🎵” needs to become a trending TikTok sound or something oh my fucking gOD

LAUREN YOU QUEEN 🙌🏻👏🏻 also living for that fucking wig

MARIAHHHHHHH 🎵❤️

Definitely felt the “High School is Killin’ Me” “I’m so fucking dead” in my soul even though I’m a full ass adult now

“I was deep in a Twitter fight about a problematic puppy” ROFL OMFG

Joey as Peter Spankoffski 😭👏🏻

ANGELA AS GRACE CHASITY HELL FUCKIN YEAH SHE IS EATING THIS PART UP

We all knew someone at school who snitched to the teachers lbh 💀

“So you don’t wanna be bullied?” “No, I wanna be invisible.” “…then why do you come to public school dressed in suspenders and a fucking bow tie?” - PLEAAAASE 💀🤣

MICRO-PETER 😂💀

Joey taking off his glasses and going “oh god” under his breath, “IT’S NOT ACTUALLY A MICROPENIS”… oh he ATE the role, R*bert who?!?

“My titties are tenderised” - I MEAN SAME BUT-?!?

“I didn’t know you were funny.” “Neither did I.” “I like funny guys.” — I AM SORRY BUT IM ALREADY SHIPPING HARD

Actually obsessed with Richie’s hair and outfit like I can’t explain it other than I’m obsessed

IT’S MAX JÄGERMAN

“Ohh well there’s a difference between intent and impact - I learnt that at an anti bullying assembly last month, FUCK NUGGET” took me off guard tbh like I know I’m tired and easily surprised but still 🤭

GRACE CHASITY PROTESTING THE CO-ED HOMECOMING DANCE I CANNOT-

Jägerman is literally the archetype of the school bully jock who peaked in high school like omg but also he’s into Grace?!?!

“I run laps in the gym and I don’t want to slip on any SPUNK” - FUCKING HELL

“Can I carry your books for you?” “Carry my books? 🤢 I don’t think either of us are ready for that, I mean we’re only 18!”

“My little dirty girl.” — 😳😲😮‍💨

“I am only one man’s girl, Max, and his name is Jesus Christ!” — IM FUCKING HOWLING ANGELA KILLED THE DELIVERY OF THAT LINE I CANT-

“I’m a literal monster!” - oh so Max is self aware then 🤔

“This is politics, Stephanie 🙄 learn to multitask!”

I love that Starkid keep casting Corey as Mariah’s dad?!?

Stephanie is apparently her father’s “October surprise”… so her birthday is in October, like Hannah Foster’s? 🤔

“Stephanie, please, I’d like to have an intelligent conversation with you - in other words, shut up” - DAMN WHAT A BURN

NOOO NOT HER PHONE 😰 (I am also addicted to my phone so I get it lol)

NOT STEPHANIE THROWING HER HAND BETWEEN HER PHONE AND THE HAMMER OMFG (same though)

Mayor Lauter really said “I don’t give a shit if you lie, steal or cheat to get your grades up, just don’t get caught” - spoken like a true politician

“How am I supposed to study without listening to Spotify?!?” probably should not have resonated with me like it did 🤭

Peter trying to make a joke and Richie and Ruth not getting it is so relatable tbh

I’m obsessed with Ruth’s mushroom jumper tbh

“I just want someone to touch me… anyone, PLEASE” — ROFL (same girl)

“What was it like when she touched your arm?… DID YOU CUM?!?” — 💀💀💀💀

“You and Steph, it’s a fantasy - like a boy and his anime love pillows. It’s a beautiful dream, but I’ll never hold the real Rei or Asuka in my arms.” — I AM PISSING MYSELF LAUGHING JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

“I’m such a loser, telemarketers hang up on me” 💀😭

DID RICHIE JUST FUCKING SAY “NANI!” JESUS FUCKING CHRIST I CANT DEAL WITH THIS SHOW 🤣

Richie and Ruth climbing Pete like a tree and demanding to know what Stephanie is saying is so ridiculously funny 😆

“Really, Ruth? A Star Wars analogy? Need I go into why Attack on Titan is superior in every possible way?” — STARKID UNDERSTAND THE NERDS I LOVE IT

“You’re telling me I gotta be funny again?!? I didn’t do it on purpose the first time!”

“Pete, you’ve been given a once in a lifetime opportunity - someone’s willing to tolerate your presence for a whole evening! This may never happen again!” — damn wish that would happen to me 😭🙈

Not Pete getting a boner during “Cool as I think I am” 🙈

Nooooo not Max finding Pete before he could go into the restaurant to meet Stephanie 😭

“I’m sick of your ssshhhhit!” — YES PETEY STAND UP TO HIM

The fact Max said “Rendezvous” as “Randay-Voose” 💀

The way it transitioned from “say your prayers” to the Chasity family going “AMEN” was PERFECTION

Grace’s father referring to his wife as “mother” is…something 💀

“He came up to me in the hallway and he asked if he could carry my books.” “Oh, Mark - I didn’t know that sort of thing happened at Hatchetfield High! Do you think you should call the boy’s father?” — ?!?!?!

“Mom, will you pass the butt stuff? The butter. Butter. Will you pass the butter? (Chuckles nervously) I just want some head and butter. BREAD! Bread! Bread and butt-sex to go with this big shaft of meat I’m gonna choke down. Oh boy…oh criminy!” - THE SCREECH I GAVE WAS UNHOLY

“I’ve just got some butterflies in my tummy; and they’re flying REAL low today” 😭💀🙈

GRACE FANTASISING ABOUT MAX IN THE BATH I CANNOT DEAL WITH THIS

“Brewing up a big ol’ pot of dirty girl soup” - ABSOLUTELY NOT 💀

HES FUCKING SHIRTLESS WHAT THE FUCK-

“Everyone’s got their secrets, and this one’s mine. I love… Jesus! 😃” - this was when I definitely knew she was fantasising because ain’t no fucking way-

WAS THE DIRTY GIRL SONG SUPPOSED TO BE VIEWED AS HOT BECAUSE I AM VERY FLUSTERED AND CONFUSED AND TOTALLY VIBING WITH THE TUNE

🎵 DIRTY DIRTY GIRL WON’T YOU PRAY FOR ME🎵

You see, if Christian parents didn’t repress their teenager’s hormones and sexuality then MAYBE their teenagers wouldn’t resort to murder 🙃

Grace’s dad saying he’s going to get the plunger when she said she was doing a big poop 😭💀

Grace really thinks that impure thoughts only happen after marriage and I almost envy her innocence

“Money isn’t everything… looks are.” - yeah no that about sums people up in this day and age 😑

“We thought you were waifu material, but you’re just a bully” — NOT WAIFU MATERIAL 💀

PETE’S BLACK EYE NOOOO 😭🥺

Grace is kind of a psychopath and I’m loving that for her tbh

“I’m not comfortable with the plan if it involves that kind of language” but she’s comfortable with filming someone getting terrified and pissing their pants 💀

The “the place is not structurally sound” comment was DEFINITELY foreshadowing

“I get pus in my pits!” Jesus ☠️

🎵🤌🏻we’re gonna bully the bully🤌🏻🎵

“We’re gonna cut off his nips!” - what is with the obsession with n!pples in this show 😳

I’M SORRY BUT THIS IS ALL I COULD THINK ABOUT WHEN THEY TALKED ABOUT KEEPING THE BEANS COOL

“You’re like super nice to me 😀” “…not really. I’m just doing the bare minimum here.” “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.” “Oh, that’s sad!” — 😂😅🤣

“Okay, Richie, be honest… Am I reading as ghost or Lin Manuel Miranda” — OH FUCKING GOD IM CACKLING

“You kinda look like that homeless guy from downtown” 💀 FOURTH WALL BREAK?!?

Max must be VERY drunk because ain’t no way he thought Pete was a ghost or Ruth was actually a skeleton 💀

“Grace, we gotta abort the plan, it’s not working!” “It’s working for me, he’s so violent! 😍”

Not Max actually being touched by them putting this whole thing together for him 💀 very much giving off himbo vibes and I love him for that

MAX FELL THREE STOREYS

Oh my GOD THE FUCKING MAKE UP ON MAX FOR HIS DEATH SCENE HOLY SHIT

“NERDY! PRUDES! MUST! DIE!” — oh hey it’s the name of the show! 😃 And also it was written on the wall in… oh 😳

“I did get a lot of incriminating footage of us luring him here with malicious intent!” - uh oh

“My god! We’re going to jail! And with my luck, no one will even bother making me their bitch!” — PLEASE 💀

“It wasn’t murder, and it wasn’t an accident… it was an act of God! 😇” - Grace is UNHINGED

“No more tickling in our mommy spots!” - OUR WHAT SPOTS?!?

“🎵🤌🏻 We’re gonna bury the body! 🤌🏻🎵”

“Oh no she’s snapping again”

“I just cut off his nips 😌” - again with the nips?!?

DAN AND DONNA 😃😃😃

“Two weeks of heartache” - cut to all of his classmates happy without his influence 💀

STEPH PASSED THE TEST! 😃

“Ya know, this is really your C+.” “Oh Steph… you can keep it. It’d really bring down my GPA.”

Steph asking Pete out to the football game 🥹😁 we love to see it!

GO GO NIGHTHAWKS! 😃🦅 (I know it’s an eagle emoji there’s no hawk emoji 🙈)

“N, I-G, H-T… *squawk squawk* Ks!” 👏🏻🙌🏻

Richie is the team mascot and they wanted/needed him in the huddle 🥹

They apologised for bullying him 😭👏🏻

“And we’d like to apologise in advance for if Max ever comes back, ‘cause we’ll probably go right back to doing it”

“Fuck Clivesdale! Fuck ‘em straight to hell! Assholes!” — AGREED! 👏🏻

I’m 90% sure Jon actually struggled with taking that mascot top off but it worked well with the scene so 😌

“I love being alive! 😃” — oh he’s so about to fucking die, isn’t he?

IT’S MAX CALLING FOR RICHIE HES BACK FROM THE DEAD

MAX’S COSTUME/MAKE UP IS AMAZING OH MY GOD 😌💅🏻

“Should’ve joined the smoke club you nerdy prude” — ANOTHER SMOKE CLUB REFERENCE

Every song on this soundtrack fucking slaps I LOVE IT

There’s not very many men that can pull off being absolutely absolutely fucking terrifying while dancing and singing across the stage but Will Branner managed it so kudos to him

The bit where Richie was repeating what Max said (“who will pray for me? When I’m gone?”) was INSANELY GOOD

“What did they find? You don’t say…you don’t say!” “What’d they find, dad?” “They didn’t say” - 💀

“Oh heck… I’m so hecking fudged”

“*relieved* Oh well we don’t know anything about that one!” “Or ANY one!”

“Maybe it’s a coincidence. People tell me to die every day!” — Okay why is Ruth kind of me 😭

THE FUCKING CAMEOS IN “HATCHET TOWN” ASDFGHJKL?!?! ZIGGY?! MAN IN A HURRY?!? GERALD MONROE?!?

“Ohhh I remember before the lockdown” - yeah me too 😅

THE BARBECUE MONOLOGUES GOT ME HOLLERING 💀

Ruth walking onto the stage and into the spotlight 🥺 literally she was me this whole scene omg I relate so hard to most of what she said ASDFGHJKL

Lauren ATE that song up by the way

MAX KILLED HER BY WEDGIE-ING HER IN TWO AND THEN PUT THE PANTS OVER HER HEAD WHAT THE FUCK MAX 😭

Him telling her to “project” so those in the back row could hear her triggered me so bad as an actor omg 😳

Grace really accusing the entirety of Clivesdale 💀

As soon as the WWJD bracelet was brought up I KNEW what was going on 😭

“Who’s plan was it, Grace?” “It was God’s plan! And now he’s leaving me out to dry! Do something, you son of a bitch!” 💀😅🤣

Grace has lost her fucking SHIT and I fully support that for her

“Show Me Your Hands” musical refrain?!

BEANIES?!? PAUL AND EMMA?!? 😭😭😭 ITS FUCKING PAUL AND EMMA I CANNOT-

“Cup of roasted coffee” refrain too?!?

PAUL GAVE EMMA HIS NUMBER 😭❤️

PAUL + EMMA IN EVERY SINGLE TIMELINE, EVERY SINGLE UNIVERSE-

“EXCUSE ME I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR WHAT FEELS LIKE FIVE FUCKING YEARS AND I STILL HAVE NOT RECIEVED MY GODDAMN HOT CHOCOLATE” 💀💀💀💀💀💀💀😂😂😂😂😂 I FUCKKING CANT IM DONE

🎵”Don’t need a lover boy need a lover man / sure I’m a sapiosexual and you’re intellectual but I’ll cut my lover losses when I can” 🎵 — this song goes so hard omg

Grace pushing between them and shouting “leave room for Jesus!” 💀

“Do we need to get ahold of Ruth?” “Good luck getting ahold of her. Does your phone pls cover calls to hell?” “…Hell?” “She’s bisexual and dead, where else would she be?!?” — 💀

Grace whipping out the gun and telling Steph to cool her beans was so iconic of her

“(Canadian accent) ‘Cause if I’m going down, you hosers comin’ with me, eh” — OH MY FUCKING GOD

Doesn’t shock me a cop would arrest Paul for zero fucking reason, fuck the police 💀

“All I wanted was to be a regular girl with no sexual desire until she was safely married 😭” the FUCK-

“Don’t comfort her, she’s fuckin’ weird” 💀

“I don’t give a shit who you kill - but you just had to go and do it in that house, didn’t you?” — Mayor Lauter really said “murder is fine but NOT in that specific house, you fucking idiots”

THE LORDS IN BLACK?!? 😃 WIGGLY AND BLINKY AND POKEY AND NIBBLY AND TINKY?!?!? FUCK YEAAAAHH

“She gave me head in her car - check it out!” *throws Miss Tessburger’s head onstage* — BRO THE FUCK

WELP I GUESS MAYOR LAUTER IS DEAD THEN?!?

“Detective Shapiro, are you a woman of faith?” “Catholic.” “I’ll take that as a no” — THE FUCK GRACE 😑

They’re really about to summon five otherworldly entities who are evil I’m-

The Summoning screams CRACK and I’m living for it

“Hello Fwendy-Wends” - SCREAMING LITERALLY FUCKING SCREAMING

“WE DON’T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT YOUR PHONE” TOOK ME OUT ASDFGHJKL

SHE CHERISHES PETE 😭

“Pay the price or fuck off” 💀

Can I just say that I need would love a show specifically just about the Lords in Black fucking about and it’s Jon the whole time as Wiggly exactly as he was during the Summoning scene because that was AMAZING IM SHAKING-

The fact Pete cherishes Steph and she cherishes him oh my hEART 😭

“Hey Steph, if things were different, would you wanna come to homecoming with me?” “I’d like that, Pete. I’d really like that.” - SHUT THE FUCK UP NO 😭😭😭

Not Max saving Pete from being shot 💀

“So you do know the Bible!” — GRACE OMG IM SCREECHING HELP

“But Jesus never threw a football like you, Max” - WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING

Max being confused about what dirty girl soup is and then being turned on when she explains 😭💀

“Take me, Max, right here on the 50 yard line!” — oh dear gOD

Max’s struggle over whether to kill Steph and Pete or whether to bang Grace omfg 😭😅

THE NOISES OFF STAGE OMFG WTAF 😭💀😂😅🤣

Grace got Max kicking his feet, twirling his hair, after one shag, just like a teenage girl 💀 I’m crying so hard with laughter I can’t cope with it-

GRACE GAVE HIM HER CHASTITY AND SACRIFICED WHAT SHE CHERISHED MOST ASDFGHJKL

PETE AND STEPHANIE AT HOMECOMING TOGETHER ASDFGHJKL ✨T H E M ✨

Grace choosing not to get the dance cancelled and she brought a date?!? That’s character development! 😀

She let Jason walk her home?!? O_o and then asked him to kiss her?!?!

“That was… absolutely disgusting! Really, Jason?!? Kissing on the first date?!?” Oh noooo 💀

“You’re a dirty perv, Jason”

SHES GOT THE FUCKING BLACK BOOK IS SHE SUMMONING THEM AGAIN

🎵DIRTY DUDES MUST DIE🎵

Well thIS TOOK A FUCKING TURN DAMN

Anyway, 11/10, immaculate, amazing, incredible, show-stopping, would recommend to everyone of course and will definitely be rewatching it a LOT 🪓

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asexualasshat · 20 days ago

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Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning:, No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandoms: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King

Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh

Characters: Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak, Beverly Marsh, Ben Hanscom, Bill Denbrough, Stanley Uris

Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, idiots to lovers, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Everyone is Alive Except Georgie Denbrough, Internalized Homophobia, Eventual Smut, asexual author writes smut, no beta we die like georgie Getting Together, Fix-It,everyone gets the happy ending they deserve, Gay Richie Tozier, bi Eddie kaspbrack, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Richie Tozier learns to accept himself, Richie Tozier is a Mess

Language: English

Chapters: 12/15

Summary:

His friends swam. They swam and they splashed and they laughed. Despite everything, they laughed so joyously that Richie didn’t think they’d hear him when he so meekly asked “Hey guys? This is real, right?”

Just because the monster is dead, that doesn’t mean fear itself has been conquered.

Excerpt:

Monday morning Bev took his measurements and showed him some preliminary designs she had worked up. It wasn’t going to be anything too over the top. He didn’t want to look like someone else. Bev had stayed faithful to that, going for a more elevated version of his typical style. They spent hours walking through fabric stores. He found a red and orange pattern he quite liked and Bev said it was perfect for a shirt. When they got back, she had him try on a pair of vintage Levis she’d thrifted. She was pleased to find that they’d be quite easy to tailor to him.

The three of them ordered in, eating on the fancy couches. “So are you excited about it?” Ben asked, taking another bite of his lo mein.

Richie shrugged. “I think so. Definitely also nervous as shit. But, I mean, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Truthfully, he was half petrified.

#Reddie #Richie Tozier #eddie kaspbrak #richie x eddie #Reddie Fanfiction #Reddie fanfic #reddie chapter fic #it movie #it stephen king #it chapter 2 #it 2017 #it 2019 #it chapter two #my fic #my writing #Through Light into Gentle Darkness #stephen king fanfiction

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joonsrack · 4 years ago

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Masterpiece | KTH x KNJ

+PAIRING: Kim Taehyung x Kim Namjoon

+GENRE: Oneshot, crack, angst, smidge of smut, College AU, stranger to lover

+WORD COUNT: ~13k

+RATING: 18+

+WARNING: Taehyung has face blindness, NSFW, (very) foul language, overuse of the word penis and it’s synonyms, pinning, misunderstandings, Namjoon is like real’ dumb, a little hanky panky but nothing scandalous.

+SUMMARY:

“So let me recap here, you don’t know his name, his major, his department, his age, his number, nor his face. The only clue you have is this drawing, which basically looks like a textbook example of unrealistic body expectations. You apparently know every nook and cranny of his [REDACTED], but you didn’t have the decency to ask his name? You deserve this.” He cackles, angering Taehyung.

(OR the one where Taehyung has face blindness but that won't stop him from finding love. )

+A/N: Well, it’s been almost a year since I’ve posted anything, and almost as much time since i last wrote anything (except for the occasional guilt writing lmao). So this is me coming back with a vengeance (and the dumbest thing i’ve ever written). This is all thanks to (or to be blamed on) @minloop who put up with my non-stop messaging, gave me some plot ideas, and actually inspired me to finish this in three days. Thank you to my baby @emojihobi for the emotional support and the beta reading 💖

+Disclaimer: I got all my info on face blindness from google searches, so please forgive any inaccuracy.

Face blindness has definitely made Taehyung’s life difficult.

There’s the obvious problem of not being able to recognize your parents. Remember this childhood trauma of holding a random stranger’s hands in the mall, thinking it’s your mother or father? Taehyung had to live through that many, many times; except he wouldn’t realize until said stranger would shake his hand off, or until his parents would swoop in to get him. The fact that he’s never been kidnapped is down to pure luck, really.

Making friends, you guessed it, has also been a challenge. It’s difficult explaining to kids why you ignored them when you saw each other in the hallway. Kids don’t always understand “I didn’t recognize you” as an explanation, especially if you’ve been in the same class since pre-k.

But this? This is a new and unforeseen crisis.

His dorm room is very quiet, which is not unusual since he has a solo room. But he’s pretty sure he went to sleep with a plus one, and said plus one is nowhere to be seen.

Now, he isn’t a stranger to one-night stands sneaking out after he falls asleep. He likes to take night conquests to his dorm room for this exact reason; He can go right to sleep, while they take themselves out. Easy breezy no string attached-y. That’s usually the way he wants it to be.

But this time is different. Last night was different. Last night, Taehyung had the best night of his life, hands down. Best bangs of his existence. Bangs plural because they went more than once. How that’s even possible when his teenage years are long gone and days with multiple orgasms are less and less common, he has no idea.

He’s probably ruined for anyone else. Nothing could ever compare to the night he just spent getting his back blown out.

Now, Taehyung is a sculptor. A very gifted one at that (if his teachers’ praises are anything to go by). Taehyung knows body proportions, knows perfect rations, all that stuff. He knows it on marble bodies, in sketches, in painting. Not on actual human beings.

Until last night.

Last night, he witnessed the body of a god. He scratched at perfect skin, held on to beautifully defined and strong arms, rode perfect thighs. Last night, he shed a tear at the view of some perfect knees. Last night, he realized that art truly imitates nature.

And that’s not all.

Taehyung can admit he owns a nice dick; it’s decently shaped, the color is nice, and the size is slightly over average.

But what he witnessed the night before?

The Narcissus of dicks; the most beautiful dick on the planet. The most beautiful dick in history . Probably even prettier than Narcissus’ face himself. (But Taehyung doesn’t know what Narcissus' face looks like, so he’s only assuming.)

From the perfect red color of its beautifully shaped head to the gracefully intertwined veins leading to a sturdy looking hilt, peppered with well-kept pubic hair, ending in an exquisitely wrinkled ballsack. The girth was over average; big enough to make size queens (such as Taehyung) salivate, but not big enough to scare away enthusiasts. And the length? The dude is lucky he’s a grower and not a show-er, or he would never know peace. Mainly because the likes of Taehyung or Park Jimin would never let him be.

But where is that most perfect penis right now?

Attached to its perfectly shaped and mysterious owner, probably miles away.

Very problematic, indeed.

“So what you’re saying is, you fell asleep, and when you woke up he was gone? Isn’t that how it’s usually supposed to go?” Yoongi sounds disgruntled on the other end of the face call, face half mushed in his pillow, hair disheveled and eyes squinty. It’s not yet 1 pm after all, which is still considered morning for people like Min Yoongi.

“Noooo, not this time.” Taehyung whines,” This time he was supposed to stick around and ask me to marry him in the morning. Isn’t that obvious? We went at it four times for fuck sake, doesn’t that mean anything anymore?”

Jimin chokes on his matcha oatmeal milk latte, eyes going wide. “Four times?! Now that is a monster stamina. He basically squeezed your balls dry.” There’s a pause, then he says to someone off-camera, “It’s rude to stare, ma’am.”

“Stop ruining my morning with your screaming,” Yoongi grunts out, rubbing his eyes. “So what do you want us to do about this?”

Taehyung fumbles around his desk for a moment, looking through his piles of sketches until he finds it, his only clue.

“Do you two know this man?” He asks, pulling out a sketch he did quickly off his memory of the mystery man’s body. He pulls out a second one, this one is a close-up of his perfect penis. He might have gone off tangent with the shading, but he couldn't stop himself, that dick deserves all the shading.

“Jesus fuck.” Yoongi signs.

“Baby, I’m sure you’re aware that if I knew anyone with a body and a dick like that, you would never have been able to put your dirty paws on him.”

Taehyung turns hopeful eyes to Yoongi after glaring at Jimin for a good 10 seconds, but Yoongi only shakes his head no.

“I don’t have a habit of making my friends strip around me, sadly. I wouldn’t be able to tell even if I knew him.”

“You two are useless” Taehyung signs, his body deflating. Yoongi takes offense and hangs up. Or maybe he was going to hang up either way.

“So let me recap here, you don’t know his name, his major, his department, his age, his number, nor his face. The only clue you have is this drawing, which basically looks like a textbook example of unrealistic body expectations. You apparently know every nook and cranny of his penis, but you didn’t have the decency to ask his name? You deserve this.” He cackles, angering Taehyung.

“I was busy sucking his dick, asshole.” He spits, but Jimin only snorts in answer.

“Good luck finding the owner of Mystery Penis.” He quips back, before hanging up as well.

All hope is lost. Never in his life has he despised his face blindness as much as he does right now. Of course, it’s never been easy dealing with it throughout his life. He’s lucky he has two solid friends he can count on. Although Jimin regularly dyes and changes his hairstyle without warning to mess with him. And Yoongi basically has two hours of availability per week, usually arranged around his sleeping schedule.

But he knows they care for him, and he cares for them.

He drags his feet to class. He uses ‘class’ lightly; being a third-year means most of his courses are spent in the workshop, working on his graduate exhibition.

He’s got his trusty overalls on, covered in clay stains. He’s been working with clay for the last few weeks, using the medium for two of his exhibition pieces.

He greets his teacher at the front desk with a nod, before making his way to his desk. Today’s playlist consists of oldies, and he makes it to his desk just as Lionel Richie’s voice fills the room.

He snorts, rolling his eyes.

Hello is a classic of sculpting classes. No matter the teacher or the Instructor, they all love to play that song on repeat, and he usually doesn’t pay it any mind. But right now, isn’t there a more perfect song to taunt him?

Lionel Richie asks if it’s him he’s looking for, as he’s pulling his tool out of his bag. He unwraps the plastic wrap from around the latest project he’s been working on, already planning his next move.

He’s pretty sure the sculpting world is all over that song only because of the music video.

It’s obvious that the whole ‘blind girl sculpting’ thing–

Oh.

Oh dear god. The music video.

The music video.

Taehyung has an idea.

His hands move before he can fully realize the plan in his head, rewrapping his project, and getting some new clay from the front of the class.

His teacher looks him up and down in all his frantic and excited glory.

“A sudden stroke of inspiration?” He questions, sounding curious.

“Something like that.” Taehyung smiles, trying to act inconspicuous. His teacher won’t let him take the clay if it’s not for his graduate exhibition.

He makes it back to his station without any more inquiry and starts to work right away.

Jimin was right, he does know every nook and cranny of that penis. He spent hours getting acquainted with it, and he has an excellent memory (Except for faces, obviously).

All the other students are too busy working on their final projects to notice the massive penis under construction a few feet from them. If anyone asks, Taehyung will proudly answer that it’s a life-sized depiction. But no one is asking, so he simply works on bringing the piece to life. The students in his class rarely talk to him, since he hasn’t gone out of his way to develop any type of relationship with them. It’s easier like that.

Once he’s done, many hours later, he’s alone in the workshop with the sun setting outside.

He ogles proudly at his masterpiece, the erect penis standing tall on his station, truly a creature of beauty. It’s a perfect replica, down to the ballsack wrinkles; down to the cute mole at the hilt. Of course, it’s clay-colored, and it probably won't change since Taehyung hates painting his creations, but he’s absolutely certain that everything else is exactly like the original.

The oven has been preheating for a while, so it’s hot and ready to bake some penis. The only thing left is to leave it to cure for a while. Any ol’ regular penis would have taken less than an hour to cure, but we’re talking about a monster cock here.

He pops it into the oven, sets a timer, just in time for a knock at the door to pull him out of his penis-induced craze.

“Yo, Tae,” Yoongi’s voice resonates from the door frame.

Taehyung grabs a rag from his station to clean his hand with before making his way to his friend. There’s someone with him, and Yoongi signals at his friend with a lazy wave of his hand.

“Remember Namjoon?” He asks, but it’s a rhetorical question. Jimin and Yoongi have taken to the habit of identifying the people they’re with, so Taehyung doesn't have to embarrass himself trying to figure it out on his own. That way, they don’t have to explain his condition to every single person that isn’t in his immediate friend circle.

(Is it even a circle if it’s two people?)

He sends a nod in Namjoon’s way and gets a wave back, and that’s as far as their exchange goes, as usual. Except today, his whole body language reads nervous and tense. But that’s none of Taehyung’s business.

“We’re going to see some juniors perform in a pub, you want to come with?” Yoongi asks him, and Taehyung knows he means well, but he also knows that Yoongi knows he doesn’t like crowded spaces.

He and Jimin have tried to get him to go out more, but the only time Taehyung steps foot inside any type of alcohol selling establishment is when he wants to get laid. And there’s only one place he goes to then; that crappy little Bar near campus that’s only frequented by broke students who also want to get laid.

He doesn’t like anywhere that’s dark where there’s enough people to make him lose sight of his friends. Something about losing his parents at the mall one too many times.

“That sounds nice, but I have to finish this piece I’m working on.” He answers, trying to sound as regretful as he can. It doesn’t really work, judging by Yoongi’s unconvinced humming.

“Alright, careful when you go back home.” Yoongi finally answers, patting him on the shoulder.

He starts walking away, but his friend, Namjoon, stays frozen on the spot, facing him. He’s looking at Taehyung in some kind of way, but face blindness makes it hard for him to read other’s expressions. He raises a single eyebrow in interrogation, and that seems to make Namjoon snap out of it. He turns on his heel without as much as a goodbye, which, rude .

“'Kay, bye.” He mutters after him.

But he can’t hold it against him. He knows that ‘Namjoon’ has been a long-time friend of Yoongi and that they’ve spent some time together by association. Taehyung doesn’t go out of his way to get to know new people, so there’s a high chance Namjoon might have tried to approach him with friendship in mind, only to end up frustrated by Taehyung’s lack of interest. Happens all the time. He can’t really help it, reading intentions is not in his toolbox.

He should probably tell Yoongi to share his ‘secret’ with Namjoon. He seems nice enough from what he heard, so he would probably be understanding. It should at least clear up the misunderstanding, and Taehyung might even gain a new friend, who knows?

He makes his way back to his station, works on his actual project while the oven takes care of making his penis nice and hard.

The next morning, he wakes up to ten texts from Jimin, one from Yoongi, and multiple missed calls and voicemail from his workshop teacher.

Asshole with pink hair:

9:40 am ur crazy

9:40 am CRAZY

9:40 am This is hilarious

9:41 am That’s why i love u

9:41 am That is a beautiful dick

9:41 am Like it was nice on paper, but the 3D version definitely makes me wonder about its owner

10:26 am All the student body is buzzing about the mystery penis

10:27 am It’s on the front page of the school newspaper

10:27 am omg you dumbass u didnt write your number

10:27 am you didn't write your number anywhere brb dying of laughter

Hyungie:

11:32 am You didnt write your infos dumb dumb

Taehyung bangs his head on his pillow, hoping for quick death. How could he forget to write down his infos? How is anyone supposed to contact him?

Namjoon has come to learn quickly that university isn’t always the most sanest place on the planet. Cramming, into a single building, that amount of genius with that amount of insanity is bound to create interesting events.

He’s stopped being surprised by most things, might be guilty of doing some of those surprising things from time to time. But today? Today is on a whole new level.

Somehow, his dick is plastered all over the school, in every hallway, on every door. Think Regina George distributing the burn book copy all over school but, multiplied by 50, that’s how many pictures of his dick are distributed around school right now. Not an actual picture of his actual dick, but an actual picture of an actual clay replica, with big bold yellow letters spelling out 'HAVE YOU SEEN THIS PENIS?', and nothing else.

It’s vaguely threatening.

He wishes he couldn’t tell that it’s his penis, then maybe he could laugh with the rest of the student body. But there’s no mistaking it. One look and he knew. The person who printed those flyers made sure to include all the possible angles, too.

It’s 100% his dick.

The slight curve is there, the mole is there, everything is there.

The intentions of the maker are unclear, but there’s one thing for sure: he knows exactly who’s behind it. He only knows one sculptor who has seen his penis, and that’s the current bane of his life, Kim Taehyung.

It’s not enough that Taehyung has been completely ignoring his existence before their night of passion together, he’s also been ignoring him after.

And now this? Plastering his dick all over school? For absolutely no reason? Did he not like the night they spent together? Was this a great big ploy to make fun of him? Is this Taehyung’s way to reject him? To tell him to stay away from him? He knows he’s never been really subtle with his crush, but isn’t this going way too far?

At least he had the very, very basic decency to forgo his name from the flyers, or Namjoon might have had to run away to the next town.

Namjoon is not dumb, he knows his ancient Greece lore and what they thought about big dicks.

Taehyung didn’t write this so people would look at the dick, he’s obviously calling him a dick. And for what, pinning on him for the last year? Can’t a man have a crush in peace?

Maybe he shouldn't have approached Taehyung that night.

One thing is for sure, Taehyung is sending him a very clear message to stay away from him.

He spent a fortune printing all those hands out, and now he has to reprint them all? Taehyung knows very well he can’t afford another round of mass printing. Plus the librarian probably won’t ever let him walk into the library again. She had to come and refill the printer at least three times in the hour he was there. The environmental club was even called on scene by one of the students waiting for his turn at the printer. Talk about a snitch.

He can’t afford to reprint everything, and there’s no way he’ll go around school writing his number by hand.

He listens to the voicemails from his teacher then, uncovering a new hurdle.

The first one goes like this:

"Kim Taehyung I know it’s you, you left that thing on your desk."

Then the second:

"Kim Taehyung, you will take down these handouts right this instant before the Dean can see them, you hear me? He'll put you on probation and my head on a stick."

Taehyung muffles his groans into his pillow. Maybe it’s a good thing he forgot to include his number. He should have thought of that before.

He throws on some clothes, heeding his teacher’s warning. He better get to school quickly.

He texts Yoongi and Jimin to take down as many as they can if they want to see him live for another day. Yoongi doesn’t answer and Jimin only texts back asking if he can keep one for his room.

Some friend circle he’s got there.

He makes it onto campus in under half an hour, and gets to work, taking them down as quickly as he can.

He’s got only a few hallways left to do when someone taps him sharply on the shoulder. He spins around, dreading the moment he comes face to face with the Dean. Not that he could recognize the Dean.

“Are you the Dean?” He stammers in a small voice.

“What? No- you. I swear to god. Just tell me if you hate me that much.” Stranger says, before putting his long leg to good use, striding away from him. He throws a bunched-up flyer on the floor before disappearing down the hallway as quickly as he’s appeared.

Taehyung is stunned for a good minutes, utterly confused

The voice sounds similar, but other than that he has no idea who just spit those words at him. He doesn’t hate anyone, and he doesn't see why anyone would believe he has those kinds of ill feelings towards them.

Now that his plan has miserably failed, Taehyung falls into hopelessness once again. He lays in bed, holding his precious sculpture to himself. It’s the only thing he has left from his fateful encounter. Or he thought it was fate, but now he’s wondering if that was life making fun of him.

Jimin is laying by his side, examining the sketch of the body with clear interest. It’s making Taehyung feel a little possessive.

“Maybe you should try again in the school gym, no one gets a body like that from not going to the gym. You could say you’re looking for a model or something.”

Taehyung stares at his friend with all the admiration he can muster.

“I would kiss you so hard right now.”

“We tried that once, remember?”

“Yes, and that’s why I won’t be doing it, but I would, just so you know.”

“Cool.”

He snatches the sketch out of Jimin’s hands to get to work on the shading, trying to get his drawing as realistic looking as possible. Making a whole body out of clay would take too long, so Taehyung will have to settle for his sketch.

Once he’s done, some 30 minutes have passed. He whirl around on his desk chair, waving the sketch around successfully, only to stop dead in his tracks. He finds Jimin with his precious sculpture halfway down his throat.

“Jimin!” He exclaims, fuming. “Get your dirty mouth off my penis!”

Jimin startles and chokes in surprise, but then bursts out laughing once the sculpture is safely out of his mouth.

“Sorry, sorry. I was just really curious about the size. You never cease to amaze me.”

Taehyung snatches his precious phallus back, grabbing some tissues to wipe off Jimin's drool.

“If I can’t find him, this is going up my ass, so don’t touch it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jimin grimaces, rearranging himself on the bed. He grabs his phone to waste some time, probably ignoring his other responsibilities as the end of their final semester is quickly approaching. “You want to end up in the emergency room? Just use it to make a mold and replicate it with some silicon at least.”

Taehyung raises both eyebrows in astonishment.

“Jimin, your genius never ceases to amaze me.”

He successfully drags Jimin with him to the campus gym. Normally the prospect of hot sweaty people grunting, in various states of undress would attract Jimin like a bee to honey, but since he’s already banged or broken up with half the people that go there, Taehyung has to keep a firm hold on his friend’s wrist.

“Why do I have to come with you again?”

“It was your idea, so you’re taking responsibility.”

“I don’t like taking my responsibilities, they suck,” Jimin grumbles, but he stops trying to run away.

The moment they step into the gym, they’re assaulted by the musky smell of sweat and determination. There’s a high volume of people working out, probably wanting to channel their end-of-semester jitters into iron pumping.

Taehyung spots the front desk, putting his business smile on while reaching into his folder. He hears Jimin greet someone, going off by himself, but Taehyung bears him no mind and heads straight for the Woman working the counter.

“Hi there,” he says, charm on, “ I was wondering if you could help me out,-”

“Yes you can put your flyers up, no you don’t have to pay for it, no we won’t take it down before the end of the semester, yes I do have some tape.” She says without missing a beat, not looking up at him.

“Damn, maybe I’m here because I want to sign up for a membership.”

She finally looks up from her computer, assessing Taehyung from head to toe.

“No you don’t babe. Here’s the tape.” She says, handing him the tape while blowing a bubble with her pink gum. Multitasking at its finest.

Taehyung doesn’t feel like taking her on a debate, so he gets hold of the roll of tape and gets to work, spotting where other people left their flyers so he can put his right by them.

He scans the gym once or twice with a quick look, trying to see if, by a stroke of luck, Mystery Man could be there. No one that is shirtless has the body he’s looking for, and he sadly doesn’t have x-ray vision to check the rest. No amount of wishing as a kid made him grow that ability.

He puts up the first flyer, this time containing all his info, and stares at it proudly. He's got a good feeling about this.

Jimin finds him again as he’s putting up his last flyer, sounding excited about something.

“I had no idea Namjoon worked out. He’s got nice arms hidden beneath those sweatshirts.”

“Namjoon? Yoongi’s friend?”

“Yeah! And he changed his hair color, it looks really good on him. A little lighter than he used to have.”

Taehyung nods along, not really pressed to know more. He’s got other fish to fry.

Namjoon slowly counts to 30 after seeing Taehyung leave the premises, before he basically sprints to the nearest wall, spotting the flyers Taehyung has put up.

There’s a sketch on it, a sketch of a body. A body that looks strangely like his. He frowns, before reading the caption.

“Sculpting student looking for body model. Body must look like this. Call XXX-XXX-XXXX. Food as compensation. ”

Namjoon cannot believe his eyes. Taehyung knows he’s got that exact body type, yet he didn’t ask for his help. If he needed any other confirmation that Taehyung hates him, there’s one right there.

Just what did he do to the man to make him hate him so much?

Since he’s confronted him in the hallway, Taehyung still hasn’t reached out to him. It would be easy to do. He knows Taehyung has his number, they exchanged it when they first met, so nothing is stopping him. Unless he’s happy with the way things are.

Maybe Jimin is not as much of a genius as he thought. By the sixth person that walks in to be a body model, he realizes this is getting expensive in food bribes and studio fees. He has also stopped putting up the pretense of wanting to sketch anyone anymore.

But this time, It’s one Jung Hoseok who walks in.

“Have we slept together before?” He asks right off the bat, tired of wasting his precious time. It’s his new modus operandi; invite them in, ask the burning question, then send them on their way with the promised food to avoid complaints.

“I don’t believe so, but maybe we should fix that,” Hoseok answers, taking off his shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“Your flyers have a nude body on it, you made me come to a private studio, isn’t this a nude modeling thing?” Hoseok questions, but doesn’t stop undressing. He’s already reaching for his belt.

Something tells Taehyung this man would be really sad to be told to put his clothes back on. The way he’s unapologetically getting naked tells Taehyung everything he needs to know.

“So, why are you asking?” He inquires while posing, everything hanging loose and stuff. “Is that how you get laid? Asking hot dudes to model, then seducing them once they’re naked and vulnerable?”

Jung Hoseok doesn’t seem to be feeling very vulnerable right now, but Taehyung keeps that to himself.

“God no. Jesus that would be sleazy of me.”

“Not as sleazy as asking me if we’ve slept together 5 seconds into our first meeting.” Hoseok points out.

“ Touché. ” He admits, a soft chuckle escaping him.

Hoseok doesn’t press him for an answer, and they spend the next few minutes in silence, the only sound coming from Taehyung's pencil on the thick page of his sketchbook.

Jung Hoseok, standing confidently in front of him in all of his naked glory, has a certain aura around him. The way he holds himself, no hesitation to bare it all, head held high; it's like he never had to hide anything in his life. Like he never knew shame. To the point where it inspires Taehyung to utter the next words:

“I have face blindness.” He starts off, which gets his model’s attention. He keeps his eyes down on his paper to avoid eye contact, feeling rusty when it comes to revealing this part of himself. He continues quickly, “I had a one-night stand with this– perfect greek god. He had the perfect penis, too. Best sex of my life.” He's making good progress on his sketch, Hoseok’s body graceful and easy to put on paper. “I’m trying to find him, but I don’t know anything about him, and I can’t tell people’s faces apart." He chuckles deprecatingly, "The only clue I have is the way his body looks. So I put up this ad for body models hoping he would show up.”

Hoseok breaks his pose to slap his hands together, then pointing at him. “Oh my god, are you the one that plastered the whole school with the penis sculpture a few days ago? Was that your version of a ‘Wanted’ poster?”

Taehyung feels his cheeks warm up.

“Yeah, but I almost lost my diploma over that so let’s not mention it.”

Hoseok laughs with his whole body, clapping his hands together a few more times as if to express his excitement.

“That was the best thing to ever happen on this campus since 1993, thank you for that.”

His statement piques Taehyung's interest.

“What happened in 1993?” He asks, expecting anything but what comes outs of Hoseok's mouth next.

“My mom and dad conceived me in the bathroom of the literature wing.”

Taehyung chortles, surprising even himself with how loud it is.

“Now that’s a conception story worth telling your kids.”

“They didn't tell me; They got caught and got expelled the next day. They framed their expulsion letter, it’s still on display in the kitchen.” Hoseok’s voice is dripping with fondness, betraying his love for his family. “The thing is, I learned how to read at a very early age.”

Taehyung is possessed by another wave of uncontrollable laughter. He wipes a stray tear from his eyes, taking a second to compose himself.

“There, you’re looking a little better now. “

Taehyung looks up at the man, standing there in his birthday suit, going out of his way to cheer him up even though they’re perfect strangers.

(Maybe not so perfect since he’s seen him naked, but still.)

He chuckles again, going back to his sketching.

“Wait does this mean you don’t actually need models right now?”

“Well yeah," Taehyung answers, shrugging his shoulders, "But you looked like you would be really disappointed if I told you to stop undressing, so I just went along with it.”

Hoseok nods his agreement, going back into his original position.

“Good call. Now that we’re here you better get the shading of my calves right. They’re my pride and glory.”

“On it.”

Who would have thought that this whole ordeal would have somehow turned into Taehyung making a new friend.

He looks at the contact number in his phone staring back at him. It’s written 'Jung Hoseok' with a little sun emoji. He’s told him everything he needs to know to avoid misunderstandings, and Hoseok left with the promise to always greet him first when they see each other in the hallway. It’s sad that he only met the man in his last stretch before getting his degree, but as they say: better late than never.

He’s excited to get to know Hoseok, but he doesn’t know if he should text him first. He’s feeling a little socially rusty, having not approached anyone with the intention of being friends in a long, long time. Which is why he jumps with glee when he sees he’s got a text notification from his new friend. But then he reads the text, and the glee morphes into unadulterated excitement.

Jung Hoseok 🌞:

4:56 pm I think i know who your penis belongs to

4:56 pm can you send me a picture? I lost the flyers i kept from that time

4:59 pm You sent a picture

5:01 pm Yeah it’s really similar

5:01 pm Kim Seokjin, XXX-XXX-XXXX, probably currently working the counter at the campus coffee shop.

5:02 pm He’s tall, broad shoulders, awesome dick

Taehyung doesn’t even take the time to text back his thanks; he wraps up his project in a disorderly manner, wiping his hands on his shirt with no care in the world. He throws his backpack on and basically sprint to the coffee shop he usually tends to avoid. The owner is totally an evil capitalist, ripping off students with his overpriced coffee.

He gets there in record time, gasping for air as his poor lungs try to keep up with enough exercise to last him a lifetime.

He’s covered in clay stains, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, clothes in dismay, lungs wheezing, so he should probably expect the next few events that unfold.

He walks into the coffee shop still out of breath, asks if Kim Seokjin is there to the first employee he sees. This is one of those times where he’s happy he can’t read people’s expressions, because he has a feeling he’s being judged very much right now.

“He… just got off his shift.” The man at the counter answers hesitantly.

“Can you tell me where he went?” And what he was wearing?” Taehyung may be sounding a little desperate, but he doesn’t have the time to care.

“He was still in his uniform, so green, and he went that way.” He indicates with a vague wave of the hand.

Taehyung starts running again, this time looking even more crazed as he scans his surroundings like a mad man, looking for someone tall with broad shoulders wearing green.

He spots him after running for a few minutes, thanking the heavens that the employee sent him in the right direction. He had every reason not to.

“Kim Seokjin!” He calls out, picking up his pace despite his lungs begging for a break. “Wait!”

He sees the man stop, take one look at him over his admittedly very large shoulders, then start sprinting away from him.

“No! Wait up!” He pushes himself harder than he ever has, his legs and lungs burning under the continuous strain, head feeling a little faint. “Please!” He calls out again in desperation. “Please look at my penis!”

This catches Seokjin’s attention, and he thankfully stops running, turning around as if to wait for him. Taehyung slows down to a jog, then to a complete stop, bending over gasping for air. Once his breathing is finally somewhat back to normal, he straightens up, only to come face to face with a bottle of pepper spray.

“W-wait!” He stutters, falling on his ass. “I swear I’m not a creep!”

“That’s exactly what a creep would say.” Seokjin answers, hovering over him threateningly, aiming the pepper spray directly at Taehyung’s face.

“I swear I just need you to look at my penis.”

This was the wrong thing to say apparently, because Seokjin gives the bottle a good shake as if to activate it. “That doesn’t sound as reassuring as you seem to think.”

“No! Wait!” He pleads again. “Not my penis.” He takes off his backpack, frantically digging through it until he finally pulls out his sculpture. “ This penis.”

Seokjin doesn’t look totally convinced, but he finally lowers his weapon. “That’s a beautiful cock.” He admits after a moment of staring in silence.

“Thank you. Is it yours?”

"I don't remember owning that sculpture."

"Not the sculpture; the Penis."

Seokjin frowns, extending his hand, and Taehyung gingerly deposits his precious sculpture into his palm. The man finally puts away his pepper spray to free both his hands. He examines the penis under every angle, trying out the hold, measuring the testicles with his palm, staring at it long and hard.

Taehyung takes the opportunity to stand back up, keeping his distance this time.

“It does look very similar,” he concludes, hands going to his chin. “But this is not my penis. I don’t have a mole there.”

Taehyung deflates. He still asks, just in case. “So we haven’t slept together?”

Seokjin gives him back his sculpture with a snort. “You don’t look like anything I've ever slept with.”

Taehyung realizes the state he’s in. He must look ridiculous right now.

“I’m from the sculpting department. I didn’t have the time to clean up. I don’t usually go around looking like I just rolled in the mud.”

“Explains a lot.” Seokjin nods, looking him up and down.

He dusts himself off as best as he can, but he can’t do much more cleaning up than that. He’ll probably have to go back home looking like that.

“So what’s your name?”

Taehyung feels dumb, he didn’t even have the decency to introduce himself before pulling out his penis. His social skills are frankly lacking.

“I’m Kim Taehyung. Sorry about all that, someone told me you could have the original version of this sculpture.”

“I’m flattered. It is pretty similar. Can I ask why you’re going around asking people to look at your– At this penis?”

Taehyung sighs deeply, looking down at the penis in his hand. He did it once, he can do it again.

“Long story short I had an amazing one-night stand with the owner of this beautiful creature, but I have no idea who he is and the only clue I have is my perfect memory of his penis.”

“Sounds like a proper modern-day Cinderella story. But how come you don’t remember his face?” Seokjin questions, a hint of worry in his voice that would make sense in any other situation than Taehyung’s.

“I…. have face blindness, it’s this whole-”

“Ah, Yes, Prosopagnosia, I heard about that in class.”

“Oh. Well, yeah, so this is my only way of finding him.”

“So the Penis Flyers-”

“Yeah, that was also me. Forgot to write down my info, got caught by my teacher, that was a whole mess.” Taehyung admits, feeling discouraged.

“So now you’re basically going around town asking every man to try on the metaphorical glass shoes.”

“Basically.”

“Maybe don’t start off with ‘please look at my penis’ next time?” Seokjin recommends, which makes sense.

“I’ve been told that asking if we’ve slept together first thing is making me sound sleazy.”

“Yeah well, asking people to look at your penis isn’t better.”

“I’ll take good note of that.”

He drags his feet all the way back home.

He sees, pushed in the corner of his room, the material he got to make a mold, and wonders if now is the time to give up.

His exhibition is coming up, this whole thing made him late on his projects, and now he’s certain he’ll never reunite with Mystery Man. Maybe Mystery Man just doesn’t want to be found. Maybe he’s seen all his attempts and has simply steered clear, avoiding him all along. Maybe it’s time for Taehyung to make himself a silicon version and move on. He’s exhausted all his options, he’s out of time, and out of ideas.

He’s reading through the molding instruction, glad that this should be easy since he’s using a sculpture and not an actual living and breathing dick, when he realizes he hasn’t exhausted all his options. There’s still hope.

He jumps in the shower, picks out an outfit befitting of his destination, and goes off with hope in his heart.

The Bar isn't too busy, this being the middle of a school week, but there’s still some people going about, sharing drinks and being loud, in total denial of the oncoming train that is the end of a semester

Taehyung spots the barman, beeline for him.

“Hey, do you know who usually works on Sundays?”

“That would be me.” Mr.Barman says, convincing Taehyung he finally has luck on his side.

Mr.Barman is on the tall side, with nice tattooed arms and wavy over-bleached hair tucked behind his ears. He’s making his forearm bulge seductively by polishing some beer glasses, and if Taehyung wasn’t on a mission to find his possible Mr.Perfect, he would be actively trying to get into his pants.

“Do you, by any chance, recognize me?”

Mr.Barman doesn’t miss a beat.

“You’re a regular. And you gave me a blowjob once. Why are you asking?”

Well, Taehyung might have many flaws but at least he’s consistent.

“I was wondering if you remembered seeing me a few weeks ago– I was with a dude, about this height, with this body,” he adds, pulling out the sketch. He looks a little crazed, once again. But it’s ok, he’s reaching for straws here. “He had dark hair, but that’s all I can tell you. See, I have face-”

“-Blindness, I know, you cry about it every time you get drunk.”

Hm. And Taehyung thought he was a character full of mystery.

“I do know who you’re talking about. He’s a regular too.”

The irritation Taehyung feels is only momentary, everything melting away with this new bit of information. Someone saw them, someone knows what his Mystery Man looks like. He didn't hallucinate the whole thing.

“Do you know his name??” He asks, pleading with his eyes. His heart is thumping wildly in his chest, desperation tangible.

“No. And he hasn’t been here since that night.” He says, crushing every hope and dream Taehyung mustered up in the last five seconds. He pauses his polishing, head tilting to the side. “But I do remember his face. I can try and draw him if you want.”

10 minutes later, Taehyung is looking at his disability in the face.

“Wow, you did it. You perfectly illustrated how people with face blindness see others.” Taehyung says, looking down at the drawing Jungkook (he asked for his name) quickly scribbled on a piece of napkin. It looks exactly like how he sees others.

Jungkook being good-natured, only laugh it off. “I can’t do much here, I’m working. But if you give me your number, I can try and do a better sketch once I get home. I’m from the painting department.”

“You would do that for me?” Taehyung asks, feeling deeply moved by Jungkook’s kindness.

“Sure, it’s good practice for my portrait class anyways. You can take this as a thank you for the blow job.”

Taehyung nods to himself.

“I do give amazing blowjobs.”

Jungkook, like any good art student, does not appreciate being rushed.

After a whole week of being told “it’s not ready yet”, Taehyung stops asking.

He also wakes up one morning and realizes he only has a few days left before his exhibition.

Not only is he not done with all his pieces, he still hasn’t started studying for his finales which happen to be the week before his exhibition, meaning, the next day.

He pushes aside any thought of Mystery Man (except when he hugs the sculpture at night, heart yearning for the original), and jumps straight into his cramming strategy, which consists of hitting himself with the books until he’s absorbed the material. If he’s not studying, taking a finale, or sleeping, he’s huddled in the workshop with the other students of his department, functioning on coffee and eating various shades of sculpting material for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. This is not what Taehyung expected when he was told that artists live from their arts.

The day before his exhibition, he’s barely feeling human, he’s got dried clay in places clay should never find itself, he doesn’t know words anymore and he has basically forgotten his own name.

No matter how fast he works, he realizes he won’t be able to finish his last pieces in time. He’s wracking his brain for a solution, thinking long and hard about just what he could do, when it hits him.

The solution is right underneath his nose;

His penis. It was always his penis.

He’s supposed to expose pieces that he finds impactful, and if there’s anything that had a big impact on his life in the last few weeks, it’s his sculpture.

He can’t tell his teacher, he’ll categorically refuse. Not after the stunt he pulled with the flyers. Plus he wouldn't understand the cultural reset it was for Taehyung, finding and crafting that beautiful creature.

So he sets to work in secret. It shouldn’t be too hard, he hasn’t printed his labels yet. Plus the students are in charge of installing their own corner, meaning he can wait until the very last moment before the opening to put his penis on display.

He needs to find a name for his sculpture, so he texts his friends for help, but as usual, they are unhelpful.

Asshole with pink hair:

6:45 pm ‘ Suck on that’

Hyungie:

6:45 pm why are you asking me idk

Jung Hoseok 🌞 :

6:50 pm “ Long lost lover”

He’s glad to see that his new friend will fit right in once he introduces him to everyone.

He isn’t satisfied with the answer he gets, so he sends more text.

Kim Seokjin:

7:05 pm “Is this your penis?”

7:06 pm Or better yet, “HAVE YOU SEEN THIS PENIS?”

7:06 pm that way people will understand how current your art is

7:10 pm Also I didn’t give you this number to chitchat

7:10 pm after we find out his identity im cutting all ties with you

7:11 pm Im just feeling invested right now

7:11 pm that’s all

7:17 pm Where’s your exhibition again?

Jeon Jungkook barman and artist:

9:56 pm idk

9:56 pm im almost done with the portrait btw

9:56 pm you mind if I use it for my exhibition

9:56 pm im really proud of it

So not much more help on that side either.

The next day, Taehyung is busy setting up his corner and feeling emotional over his last exhibition.

He’s done with uni. He can go off into the world and live from his art. Or more like, he’ll first find a side job that’ll suck the life out of him, to pay for his art. Then he’ll spend a few years regretting every decision that led him to be an artist, but just as he’s about to give up, his sculptures will be noticed by a mysterious millionaire that’ll commission him thousands of dollars at first. He’ll refer him to his rich friend who will be all over his art and will throw their money at him.

Yeah, it’s a nice pipe dream.

He makes sure all the labels are in place, the lights are hitting his pieces in all the right way, and that no one notices him putting his penis in the middle of his space 30 seconds before they open the doors.

By the time his teacher notices, it’s already too late; the place flooded with friends, family, and even the occasional art critics that the university invited.

It’s not like his penis feels out of place in his setup. Most of his pieces are on the theme of the human body; studies of movement, skin texture, whatnot. If you look at it as a whole, you almost have a whole body. The only thing missing is a face, which is extremely fitting for Taehyung.

The wave of people coming is not preferable for Taehyung, since he doesn’t like crowded places. He’s never been a fan of their exhibition opening nights over the years. He keeps himself busy by trying his best to merge with the wall while people circle his pieces. His friends know he won’t be able to recognize them in the crowd, so they’ll come to him by themselves, he simply has to make himself visible.

“Hey babe,” Jimin says with mirth in his voice, “Is that greek?”

“Yeah” Taehyung answers, fixing his eyes on his most beloved and central piece.

“I didn’t know you knew greek”

“I don’t, but Google does.”

The Penis is standing directly underneath his own spotlight, looking like a beacon of light, grabbing the envious stares of the people around it.

There’s a little white label by its base:

Kim Taehyung

πέος, 2021

Red Clay

(if you recognize this penis, please ask for the artist)

“ What does it mean?”

“ Penis ”

Jimin hums, crossing his arm over his chest. “I guess I was not expecting anything less.”

Yoongi chooses that moment to appear, whistling his praise.

“So you did work this semester.” He jokes, bobbing his head with approval.

“Har, har.” Like he’s one to talk. He basically spent the last few months becoming one with his bed.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, and he expects it to be Hoseok or Seokjin telling him they’re here, but instead it’s from Jungkook, and it’s a picture.

A little gasp of surprise escapes him.

His hands shake as he opens up the text app, his heart thumping as the picture loads. He presses on it once it’s ready, taking up the full screen, and Taehyung can finally-... well, Taehyung can’t do anything with that. His case of face blindness is pretty severe, so even drawings are unrecognizable for him. But it’s something! A new clue! He can make a flyer out of this! He can-

“Why do you have a portrait of Namjoon on your phone?”

Time stops.

Yoongi’s voice echoes in his head, mocking him, but also stealing the carpet right from underneath his feet.

Why do you have a portrait of Namjoon on your phone?

A portrait of Namjoon

Namjoon

Namjoon, who stood in front of him silently, that day Yoongi invited him out, probably expecting some kind of reaction from Taehyung.

Namjoon who frequents the campus gym.

Namjoon, who’s tall and broad-shouldered.

Namjoon, who’s been around Taehyung for a while but was never told about his condition.

Namjoon, who probably thinks Taheyung has been ignoring him all this time.

“Jesus fucking christ, My Mystery Man Is Kim Namjoon.”

Both his friends voice their confusion as Taehyung tries to rip his hair from his head.

“This penis belongs to Kim Namjoon, who doesn’t know I have face blindness, and who probably think I’ve been ignoring him all this fucking time.”

“Holy shit,” Yoongi says at the same time as Park Jimin, that prick, starts cackling uncontrollably. Taehyung always knew he was evil.

“This is- I’m so sorry but- This shouldn't be funny– But I can’t, it’s too funny.” He wheezes out in between laughter. “He was right there, probably confused as hell as to why you were showing his dick to everyone- I’m sorry this is so funny but also so, so sad. You never- oh my god.”

Under the attention of about half the gallery, he wipes the tears from his eyes, body convulsing with laughter.

“What the fuck are you waiting for.” He finally manages to say, taking a deep breath. “Hyung, didn’t you drag him here tonight?”

That seems to snap Yoongi out of his stupor.

“Fuck, yes he’s here, he’s... There!-” He says pointing somewhere, but then his voice dies down. “And now he’s leaving...”

Taehyung spots the man with a black cap currently walking out the exit with an angry stride. He reacts on instinct, running after his Not So Mysterious Man Anymore.

Kim Namjoon is having a very no good, very bad day.

Not because of school, no. He aced all his finales, he doesn’t even need to get his grades back to know.

Not because of the weather either. No, it’s a beautiful spring day, and there’s a hint of cherry blossom in the air, wrapping the world in a romantic tint.

No, the reason he’s having a very no good very bad day, is because he can’t, for the love of God, get Kim Taehyung out of his head.

It started with a very interesting dream, clearly drawing inspiration from the night they spent together. It woke him up at the crack of dawn, sweating up bullets and hard as a rock. Finding sleep afterward was nearly impossible, meaning his first precious day of vacation started way too fucking early.

Now music theory never sleeps, so he simply spent his morning trying to forget his dream, channeling all his energy on composing.

But then Min Yoongi, long-time friend and co-compositor, had to go and ruin his fragile peace of mind by reminding him he had two tickets for the sculpting department exhibition, and Namjoon was obligated to show up. Meaning he would inevitably run into Kim Taehyung; Meaning he would agonize about him all day; Meaning , that he would be thinking about Kim Fucking Taehyung all day.

But it’s ok, because he was finally starting to come to terms with that too. Taehyung would probably ignore him again, and all he needed to do was circle the gallery once and get the fuck out.

But no.

Oh no.

Life had better plans.

Because right into the center of Taehyung's exhibition space, is his very own penis, standing proudly, mocking him.

He can recognize it from the flyers, so he knows instantly that it’s Taehyung’s work.

He’s stunned by the audacity, wondering once again what he did to draw Taehyung’s ire upon himself. The flyers were not enough, no he had to go and put it on display as his final fuck you to Namjoon. Even wrote 'penis' in greek as a title, confirming Namjoon's theory that this is all a ploy to make fun of him.

Namjoon has had enough, he’s getting the fuck out of there.

He spins on his heel at the speed of light, taking advantage of every inch of his long legs to walk out as fast as possible. He ignores the call of his name that follows after him, readjusting the cap on his head.

He’s fuming, feeling tears of frustration building up. He doesn’t deserve this. He’s been nothing but respectful of Taehyung. He’s been staying away from him too.

He doesn’t deserve this.

He makes it a few blocks before his phone starts going off every 5 seconds with incoming texts, forcing him to finally look at it.

Yoongi Hyung:

6:14 pm Before anything, know that Taehyung suffers from severe face blindness.

6:14 pm I know you know what that means you wikipedia rat

6:15 pm I didn’t tell you cause it’s none of my business who he chooses to tell

6:15 pm But the dumbass has been trying to find you for weeks using your dick because he had no other way to identify you

6:15 pm Your pinning hasn't been exactly subtle either

6:16 pm he ran after you when you left but I bet he’s pleading with the wrong person in the street right now

6:17 pm Nice dick by the way

He rereads the series of text to try and make sense of them. Only after the third read, does he finally understand.

Well, shit.

“Please Namjoon listen to me, you have to listen to me, I didn't mean to ignore you, I just didn't know it was you!-” Taehyung pleads, holding on to his sleeve.

“Can you please let go of me?!”

His voice sounds a little older than what Taehyung remembers, but he doesn’t have the time to think too much about that. Maybe he’s got a cold or something.

“-I can explain everything if you can just give me two minutes-”

“I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not this kind of person.”

Taehyung isn’t deterred, holding on to him desperately “-Please I swear just two- no, one minute, even one minute is enough-”

Someone clears their throat, tapping him softly on the shoulder.

“Sorry sir, I believe my friend here is mistaking you for me.”

Now that’s a familiar voice. A voice he recognizes from many occasions.

Taehyung lets go of his poor unsuspecting victim, taking a step back which is all it takes for them to run away from him.

He finally comes face to face with the source of all his past weeks' torment.

The height is there, the shoulders are there, the body proportions are there, the hair color is completely different, but Jimin did mention he changed it recently. He’s got the black cap on, the one that made Taehyung mistake a perfect stranger on the street for him.

It’s him. He found him. It’s his Mystery Man, his cinderella. He’s got him.

“Namjoon?”

“Yes, that’s me.” He confirms, voice gentle.

“Kim Namjoon.” He repeats, trying the name out on his tongue. His body is filling up with butterflies, and he can’t feel his toes.

“And here I thought you just could never remember my name.”

“I can explain–” He rushes, eager to get rid of the misunderstanding.

“It’s ok, Yoongi told me.”

“And about your penis–”

“Yes, Yoongi told me about that too.” Namjoon cuts him off, the tip of his ears getting pink.

“I’m so sorry– I should have asked your name then. I mean– you made me come four times .”

Namjoon chuckles, catching one of Taehyung’s hands mid flail and holding it with both of his, making his heart jump.

“We’ve basically known each other for years, so maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t. I don’t think I would have appreciated it then.”

“I guess that’s true. I’m still sorry.”

“I’m sorry too, I could have come up to you first. I mean, I’m the one who sneaked out in the morning. I had an 8 am class, by the way. I didn’t leave because I wanted to. But you have my number so… I assumed you would call me. ”

“I have your number...?” It's pretty vague, but it does ring a bell. He's got a blurry memory of time, around their first meeting, when Namjoon and he had exchanged their numbers for Yoongi related reasons. “That’s right, I do have your number. Fuck.”

“Well, I know now this wouldn’t have changed anything for you, since you simply didn't know it was me you were with.” Namjoon snorts, but not unkindly. More at the situation.

But Taehyung still feels terrible.

“I’m so sorry.” He whines, feeling like burying his face in Namjoon’s chest. But they’re not there yet. “I tend to keep people at a distance to avoid misunderstandings.”

“It’s ok, I get it now. I guess I wish I knew before, but I get it now.”

“Good. I should have told you sooner. I was actually planning on doing it soon if that’s any consolation.”

“It is.” Namjoon murmurs, inching closer to him.

“Cool, cool cool.” Taehyung blurts out nervously.

This is it. This is his chance. Everything that has transpired in the last few weeks is leading up to this moment.

"So," Namjoon starts when Taehyung has been silent for too long. "Yoongi said you were looking for me... Any particular reasons?"

"Well, yes." He answers but stops. All of this means nothing. It doesn't mean that Namjoon will accept to go out with him. He has no idea how Namjoon feels about him, and he sure as hell cannot tell by his facial expression. He's going in blind, no reason to believe that Namjoon wants to have to do anything with him. For all he knows, Namjoon is only here to settle the misunderstanding, and then be on his way. Maybe he's even mad about the penis flyers.

But then he also remembers that Namjoon is holding his hand right now. It's now or never.

He takes a deep breath for bravery and goes for it.

“Kim Namjoon, can I please take you out on a date?”

Namjoon doesn’t let him second guess himself, word leaving his mouth as fast as a blink.

“Absolutely.”

Apparently, they’ve gathered a crowd because there’s cheerful hooting and shouting erupting around them. But Taehyung pays them no mind as he goes in for a hug, Namjoon meeting him halfway.

“Wait, wait,” Namjoon says, suddenly, taking a step back. “I still don’t know why you put my penis on display at the center of your exhibition.”

Taehyung chuckles, bringing Namjoon back in.

“Simple, ‘cause it’s a masterpiece.”

2 months later

There’s a knock at the door, which throws Taehyung off. He’s getting ready for his date with Namjoon– their actual first date– and is not expecting anyone. Jimin knows the code, so it can’t be him, unless–

“Hello sir, would you be open to receiving the words of our lord and savior, Jesus Christ?”

“Jimin, I swear to god, I can tell it’s you by your voice. And no one from church would dress like you do, slut.”

Moving in with Jimin is as much a blessing as it is a curse. A blessing because, well, they’re best friends. A curse because his best friend’s favorite hobby is to try and prank him. Taehyung almost misses the time where Jimin was treating his face blindness as a taboo.

Almost.

The last two months have been a whirlwind of life-changing events for Taehyung.

First, moving in with Jimin is a pretty big deal. Not only has Taehung been living alone for the last three years, living with someone is sometimes a challenge for him. Wondering why a stranger is standing in your kitchen at 3 am, brain slowed down by sleep and the weak lighting not helping, isn’t always a recipe for success. But he’s slowly getting used to it, and Jimin, as much as he can be a prick, is being patient with him.

The second big event is, well, his current job. Somehow his workshop teacher, even after everything, recommended him for a job at a sculpture academy. He now teaches different types of sculpting medium to children, four nights a week. Pretty sweet gig.

At first, he was going crazy out of his mind worrying about working with children, but four weeks in and he’s feeling confident. He sat down with the kids the first week to explain to them what face blindness is, and although the children were initially confused, they now enjoy switching names with each other for the duration of his classes, to mess with his head.

Jokes on them, Taehyung also called their parents during that first week. So far, none of the children have noticed that their parents have been making them wear certain accessories every time they leave for the academy. Checkmates.

And the last big event, of course, is Namjoon.

In between moving, his new job, and Namjoon’s own busy schedule, they have yet to go on an actual full-blown date. But they’ve slowly been getting to know each other. They make time to go on quick coffee dates sometimes, and they text none-stop. Namjoon hasn’t seen his new place yet, but they’ve hung out at Namjoon’s plenty of time.

His boyfriend (he gets giddy thinking about that word) also showed up at the academy a few times to walk him back home (The first time he kept it as a surprise, but he quickly realized Taehyung didn’t like surprises; especially when it means having a tall stranger approach him in the dark without saying anything. Now he texts beforehand.)

“Do you like this outfit? Or should I go with my floral button-up?” He asks Jimin, who’s lounging on his bed after his failed prank attempt.

“Why are you so stressed? It’s not like it's the first time you two see each other.”

“Because the chances of me getting laid tonight are extremely high and I want to look good.”

“Oh?” Jimin perks up, knowing full well Taehyung and Namjoon have been taking their time to get to know each other. “Should I sleepover at Hobi’s tonight?”

Another new development from the last two months: Jimin and Hoseok’s instant attraction. They’ve been dancing around each other since the exhibition, but it looks like it’s finally getting ‘ sleeping-over-at-each-others-place ’ serious.

“...Good idea,” Taehyung answers, not because he wants the house to himself (though it’s a nice perk), but he likes giving a little push to love sometimes.

His friend circle can finally be called a circle now. Somehow, Hoseok, Seokjin, and Namjoon just naturally fit into his now actually social, social life. Namjoon was the easiest since he already knew Yoongi and Jimin. Hoseok got it easy by becoming Jimin’s more-than-friend, and Seokjin just showed up one day with a video of that time, outside the gallery, when Taehyung thought an older gentleman was Namjoon because of his black cap.

He looks at the time, curses when he realizes he’s going to be late. He grabs his wallet and puts on his shoes in a rush, and makes it out the door accompanied by Jimin shouting “Don’t you dare fuck on the couch or you’re buying a new one!”

He makes it to the Bar with only a few minutes to spare, and as luck would have it, Jungkook is working. He’s come to recognize his tattooed arm and bleached locks instantly.

Namjoon would have texted him if he was there, which means he’s cutting it close as well, so he sends a quick ‘here 💖’ text before sitting down at the Bar with a big smile.

“You make me want to puke,” Jungkook says, disgust dripping from his words.

“Hey now don’t be jealous, I’m sure you’ll find yourself a monster cock as well one day.”

Somehow, he and Jungkook started texting on a semi-regular basis. It’s mostly Jungkook begging Taehyung to introduce him to Seokjin (apparently he’s been crushing on the man since he first saw him at the coffee shop), which Taehyung has to find excuses every time to avoid telling Jungkook the cold, harsh truth.

(“I don’t date men with bleached hair, it ruins my whole aesthetic.” Jin said after the first time Taehyung asked. Which aesthetic he’s talking about, Taehyung has no idea.)

But that also means that Jungkook has heard all about his very fascinating and blooming love story with Namjoon.

“Did you tell Seokjin I said hi?”

“Dude, just go and ask him out. You know where he works, you know where he studies, you even know his birthday, which is really creepy when you two have never talked by the way. Just, go ask him out, he won’t be able to resist you once he actually sees how attractive you are.” He pauses for a second, then adds for safety measure, “But if he reaches in his pocket, just run the other way.”

“What?”

“Don’t ask, just trust me.” Taehyung has some unpleasant flashbacks of a bottle of pepper spray being waved in front of his face. He shakes his head to try and get rid of the memory.

“And how would you even know that I’m attractive, you don’t actually know what I look like.” Jungkook retorts.

“Shut up, just go and ask him.”

“Just go and ask him what?” A familiar voice asks from behind him, and Taehyung's smile is back full force. He rotates on his chair and jumps into Namjoon’s arms, hearing him groan under the strain of his weight. He can hear Jungkook fake gagging behind him, the actual child.

They share a quick kiss before they both sit down at the bar.

“You’re not seriously thinking about having your date here, are you?”

Taehyung snorts, tempted to mess with Jungkook, but Namjoon is the one to answer.

“No we just wanted to get the evening started with a nice drink, but we have a reservation to an actual fancy restaurant, paid graciously by Taehyung's actual serious adult job.”

“Is it a serious adult job if he had to stop a kid from eating his donut-shaped clay yesterday?”

“Shut up. If you keep being like that I’m going to order the most annoying thing on the menu.”

Jungkook scoffs and walks away, without actually taking their orders.

They both watch him do a big show of ignoring them, answering other customers without turning in their direction.

“Let’s just get out of here.” Namjoon whispers in his ear. “We can go waste time walking around aimlessly, hand in hand.”

“God, you’re so cheesy,” Taehyung mutters, but he actually loves it.

His dating experience before Namjoon amounts to an enormous zero, but it’s not because he’s one of those unattainable, i-don’t-believe-in-love types of people that live rent-free in Hollywood movies. He simply never thought it would be possible to get close to someone romantically with his condition. But since officially meeting Namjoon, he’s been researching, and turns out, he totally can.

There are even people, artists like him, who've noticed that repeatedly drawing or painting their loved one has made them actually able to remember their face (not 100% of the time, but he’ll take what he can get.). So he’s been sketching, using pictures, trying out different angles. He’s planning on using clay at one point. He’s totally the girl from Lionel Richie’s music video. Which makes Namjoon Lionel Richie.

“Did you know that I was inspired by Lionel Richie’s music video to sculpt your penis?”

Namjoon chuckles under his breath, squeezing Taehyung’s hand just a little bit more. The hot summer air is making their palms sweaty, but they both don’t care.

“Where is that thing, by the way? It’s been a while since I’ve last seen it.”

“I put it on my bedside table when I moved in and I haven't moved it since. I’m thinking about making it into a lamp. I have to keep it out of reach of Jimin and Hoseok, they both seem a little too interested.”

Namjoon grimaces. Or Taehyung is assuming that’s his grimacing face.

“Please never let it fall into their hands.”

“I swear on my honor, I shall protect your penis.”

“Thank you, I feel better now. I still can’t believe they put it on the first page of ‘Sculpting Now’. Crazy how all of your friends and the sculpting world know what my dick looks like.

“It’s a masterpiece. If it was mine I would never keep it in my pants, I’d always want to show it off.”

“How are you not in prison right now?”

“I don’t have your dick in my pants, sadly. Did you know that Seokjin almost pepper-sprayed me the first time we met? In retrospect, having a stranger run after you, pleading for you to look at their dick is a good excuse to pull out your pepper spray.”

“Wait, you did what?”

“It was all in the name of love.”

Namjoon shakes his head, probably disappointed in him.

Namjoon is utterly enamored. Every time Taehyung recalls a story from when he ran around school trying to find him, he falls a little bit more in love.

He was so nervous for their first romantic date that he couldn’t eat during the day, but Taehyung is making him feel at ease, as he usually does, so hunger is coming back with a vengeance.

“Should we go to the restaurant now?” He asks, pulling Taehyung along with him. "It's almost time."

“Let’s.” Taehyung agrees readily, “I’m ravenous.”

They quickly make their way to the restaurant, only to find its door closed. There’s a sign in the window reading “Closed for vermin infestation”.

“Oh.” Namjoon says, “Dammit. That’s not good.”

There’s this awkward silence, filled with growling sounds from both their bellies. It’s too late to make reservations anywhere nice, and anywhere else risks being too loud for a romantic Rendez-Vous. Namjoon is scrambling his brain for a solution when Taehyung’s shy voice interrupts.

“Hum, if you want to– Jimin told me he wouldn't be home tonight, so… You want to come over? We can pick up some ramen on the way.”

Taehyung’s face might be neutral, but the blush growing on his cheeks is anything but. Namjoon takes a moment to appreciate the sight that he makes, burning up in embarrassment. Without the blushing, Namjoon would have believed he’s only inviting him for ramen, but the angry red of his cheeks is definitely betraying Taehyung’s intentions.

He nods his agreement, feeling anticipation replace hunger in the pit of his stomach.

Having Namjoon in his space is a new experience.

The apartment is still messy from their move, boxes lying around, but they’ve managed to make it quite homey. Everything that is necessary to their everyday life has been unboxed, only the odd objects being ignored by Jimin and him.

He puts on some soft music to set a nice mood, and Namjoon is humming along straight away, which is all the approval he needs to feel confident about his music selection. Music Theory graduate approved.

He gets to work on the ramen while he directs Namjoon on where to find a cheap bottle of wine and some wine glasses. He sets the table, trying to make it as nice as possible, but it’s really just a pot of bubbling ramen and two bowls with some chopsticks.

They eat in comfortable silence, the music playing in the background mixing with the sound of their eating.

But then Namjoon dumps the content of his wine glass on his tan-colored pants, and it’s downhill from there.

“Damn it!” He curses, jumping to his feet. He grabs some napkins to try and pat some wine off, but it’s already been absorbed by his fancy suit pants.

“Quick, take them off,” Taehyung says, not thinking too hard and only reacting to the situation at hand. “Let’s rinse them in the sink.”

Namjoon complies, taking them off in record time, passing them on to Taehyung like it’s a relay race.

Taehyung deposits them straight in the sink, opening the tap and letting the water hopefully get rid of most of the stain. They both stand there for a minute, staring at the water filling up.

But then it hits Taehyung that Namjoon’s thighs are currently bare and in his vicinity. He sneaks a quick peek to satisfy his horny brain, but he’s quick to snap his eyes back to the sink to avoid doing anything stupid.

Like, let’s say , dropping to his knees.

He can feel himself blushing, his cheeks, ears, and neck feeling hot. He knew exactly what he was doing, inviting Namjoon for some ramen, but now that he can act on it, he’s suddenly feeling very shy.

Plus, not being able to read facial expressions never really impaired his ability to get laid. He used to just– go to the bar, wait until someone would offer him to get out of there, and go for it.

But this is not a bar, and Namjoon won’t ask him if he wants to get out of there. He has no idea how to tell if Namjoon wants to jump into bed with him. Or not.

He takes matters into his own hands.

“So, as you know,” He starts, staring intently at the water flowing out of the tap, “this whole face blindness thing– I can’t really read your facial expressions. So in the future, it’ll be hard for me to figure out if you’re angry or happy, or sad, or… or horny. I’ve never done this whole– Romantic relationship thing, but I’m guessing we’re going to have to be really vocal with how we’re feeling, what we want, whatnot.”

He lets his statements hang in the air, staring at the stain that doesn’t seem to want to go away. He’s thinking maybe this will have to be removed professionally.

But then, Namjoon chooses that moment to drop a soft kiss on his nape.

“Are you asking me, right now, if I want you?”

Taehyung turns around, letting himself be cornered against the counter. Namjoon has his nicely defined biceps, somehow peeking through his suit vest, on each side of him. He absolutely loves it.

“Yes. I am.”

Namjoon kisses his neck once again, and Taehyung is this close to losing it.

“I absolutely want you.” His boyfriend finally answers, landing a heavy kiss on his lips, sucking all the air out of Taehyung’s lungs.

After turning Taehyung’s inside to mush via lips on lips crime, he returns to his assault on Taehyung’s neck, peppering the skin he can reach with sweet kisses, each one sending electricity straight to his groin.

“Do you want me?” Namjoon questions softly into his ear, making Taehyung's eyes roll back so far he’s scared they’ll never come back.

“Fuck yes.” He grinds out, voice turning to a whine when Namjoon, emboldened by Taehyung’s enthusiasm, rocks his pelvis into his in a languid motion.

He sees white then, bringing Namjoon’s mouth back to his, smashing their mouths together in a wet and messy kiss.

“How important are your pants?” He inquires in between kisses, enjoying the slow grinding Namjoon has going on. He’s still in his suit pants, but Namjoon only has the thin cotton of his boxer brief as a barrier. Taehyung can clearly feel his monster cock waking up from its slumber.

“Not very important.” He finally answers, hands letting go of the counter to firmly grab at Taehyung’s ass.

Taehyung can proudly say he’s got a fat ass, and Namjoon seems to appreciate it if the growl that escapes him is anything to go by.

He gets to work on the buttons of Namjoon’s dress shirt, Namjoon getting the message and taking his vest off by himself. Soon he’s standing there in only his boxer briefs and socks, while Taehyung is still fully dressed.

It’s kind of hot.

They slow it down a little, Taehyung pushing Namjoon away so he can take a good look at him.

The light of the kitchen falls almost gracefully over Namjoon’s defined chest, creating shadows that chisel out his muscles even more. It’s a sight to behold.

He drags his hands down Namjoon's body, teasing a nipple as he goes with a flick of the thumb, mapping out his taut stomach with the tip of his finger, then coming back up to hold onto his strong shoulders.

“You know, I’m like, really good at massages. I feel like this is something you should know.”

Seems like this is all the time Namjoon will allow him away from him. He reels him back in with an arm around his waist, the other taking hold of one of Taehyung’s hands and bringing it to his mouth. He nips at his fingers, maintaining eye contact while he uses his tongue to soothe the sting.

How he’s even real is beyond Taehyung.

“Do you need help undressing?” Namjoon teases, reaching for his belt.

“Let me close the tap and we can move this to my room.”

Namjoon doesn’t give him a response, only cages him once again against the counter, plastering the full length of his warm body to his. He reaches behind Taehyung and moments later, the soft ambiance music is the only thing they can hear again.

Taehyung leads him to his bedroom, taking off his vest as they go. Somehow Namjoon already got his belt buckle, so he unceremoniously drops his pants to the floor, then jumps on his bed.

“Welcome to my room. That’s my desk, that’s my bedside table, that’s a replica of your penis, but I heard the original is planning on making an appearance tonight. This is my bed. Hope you enjoyed the tour.” He finally gets to the final button, looking up eagerly as he sends his shirt off to the side, wondering what’s taking Namjoon so long to get on the goddamn bed.

He finds his lover completely captivated by his penis duplicate.

“You’ve got the same one in your pants, you know. Get you your ass over here.”

“Sorry I was just thinking… it’s crazy how similar you made it only from your memory.”

“Excuse me?” Taehyung objects, crossing his arms over his chest. “They’re not just similar, they’re identical.”

“Only one way to check, is there?” Namjoon taunts, before finally, finally getting rid of his briefs, releasing the Kraken.

Except he also grabs hold of the sculpture, bringing it close so he can do a side-by-side comparison.

“You’re right, it is identical. How did you even manage that?” He says, awe in his voice. “Have you ever used it on yours–”

Namjoon loses his train of thought as he takes in the sight of Taehyung, laying in bed completely naked, pumping himself at a leisurely pace and looking very unimpressed.

“No, I haven’t. But if you don’t get into bed in the next 5 seconds I just might consider it.”

Namjoon doesn’t have to be told twice.

#bangtanidx #bangtanarmynet #houseofddaeng #mikrogalaxynet #boymeetsmxm #bangtanxm #kim taehyung #kim namjoon #min yoongi #kim seokjin #park jimin #jung hoseok #jeon jungkook #bts fic #taejoon #taejoon fic #taehyung x namjoon #v #rm

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hacked-by-jake · 4 years ago

Note

hi and also can you write this prompt 37 so youre just going to leave me here to die pair man without the face x mc thank you

Finally

A/n: Hi and thank you for your request. I have been waiting for this pairing, thank you! I hope you like it and please apologize the mistakes. Have a good day and stay healthy.💕

Prompt: “So you’re just going to leave me here to die alone?”

Words: 1,9k

Warnings: (Unfortunately, I am really bad when it comes to warnings, should anything be added, he will gladly tell me)

⚠️Mention of death. Use of weapons, blood.

"So you’re just going to leave me here to die alone?" choked the disgusting man lying at your feet. You really did, you shot the man who’s been making your life a living hell for months. Your life, your friends life, and all of Duskwood. The man who brought so much suffering and hatred upon you all.

Speechless, you stare at the gun in your hand, but you feel no remorse, no guilt. Honestly, you feel satisfaction. Because you didn’t shoot a man, you shot a monster. A disturbed monster that is free of any morality, any humanity.

"Yes, yes, I let you die alone, because you deserve nothing else! You attacked my family. And when you attack my family, you attack me, "you hiss with a mocking grin on your face.

You feel like you’re in a movie, the weather suits your situation. Light raindrops fall through the thick treetops around the forest. All around you you can hear ravens croaking that bring a gruesome mood. The flowers and trees look sad and let their heads hang. Further away stands a roe deer, frightened and on guard because of the loud bang as the bullet flew out of the gun. Well, and the most striking of course, the Bleeding Man. The Kidnapper. The Murderer. You snort bitterly and you get over the urge to want to kick him in his face. You had to shoot of him to defend yourself but if you kicked him then it would be another matter. You managed to stop him and everything you would do now wouldn’t make you any better than he is.

"Do you - don’t you want to take off my mask?" his hoarse voice pulls you out of your thoughts. He tries to straighten up his upper body a little by leaning on his left arm. "Stay lying down!" you growl and take a step back. You raise the gun and aim at his belly to protect yourself.

Luckily, he takes you seriously and immediately he sinks back to the ground and groans painfully from the fast movement.

"So? You have always been so curious, take off the mask," he demands and you can hear a little amusement.

"MC?" sounds a voice through the dense trees of the forest and attracts your attention. The others found you. When you made your way to the forest, you thought about informing them. You decided not to let them know until you reached the forest so that none of them could stop you. For whatever reason, you wanted to talk to the man alone first. Jessy sounded very angry on the phone and wanted to stop you from going into the woods alone. But you couldn’t listen to them, you were blind with anger and the need for revenge, and you were lucky because everything went well.

He’s on the ground, not you.

He was defeated, not you.

You won, not him.

You look back at him shaking your head, "No, I’m not gonna take that ugly sack off your head, you want to know why?" you don’t wait for his answer at all but continue talking directly. "Because you are nothing more than this ugly mask! Because you are nothing. Because I don’t care who you are! Your plan to get attention has worked out for a short time. But now, I don’t care who you are under this mask. You are disgusting and no longer relevant to this world".

"Uh outch, you hurt my feelings" he chuckles, pressing his hand on the bleeding part of his chest. "But, you played well. You have my appreciation, it was fun, a worthy opponent".

"You still think this is a game?" you spit at him with disgust.

"Yes, when you showed up, it became a fun game, before that it was almost boring. But thanks to you it really became a nice little pastime"

Your eyes narrow and you feel like you’re getting hot and cold.

You shouldn’t let him provoke you any further, not really listen to what he says, but your hatred of this monster was too great. Blinded by the rage, you kick some of the earth and the broken leaves from the ground on his damaged body .

"You’re dirt" you hiss, "Have fun dying" you give him another superior grin.

"MC where are you?" again you hear a loud voice roaring through the forest.

Without paying attention to the kidnapper again, you run in the direction from which the voice comes.

You run as fast as you can, full of adrenaline, full of joy, full of hate. So many mixed feelings rushing through a body and pounding in your ears. You’re running for your life, happy to be with your friends now.

But there is one feeling that stands out especially and drowns out everyone else. The feeling that he was finally stopped by your hand. You made the promise to stop him and you kept it. Whether he dies or not, he will never be able to hurt anyone again. And that’s all that matters.

After about 500 meters you see them all, the whole group, and additionally at least a dozen policemen with a dog squad. All worried and looking for you.

"I’m here!" you yell as loudly as you can, "here!"

Immediately, all heads turn in your direction. Jessy is the first one to run towards you. Breathlessly you fall into her arms and the first tears break out of you. Tears of joy and relief.

You know these feelings will be short-lived. Because no matter who the man is or what he did, you shot a living person. Once the adrenaline of the last 20 minutes disappears from your body, you will realize correctly what happened. And it won’t be easy to process. But the fact that he’s the man with no face will help you not feel entirely guilty.

But at this moment you cannot think about it, at the moment there is only reason to rejoice.

"Oh God MC, we were so worried about you!" Jessy sniffed at your ear.

"Oh, thank God you’re alive" you hear Richy next to you and feel him also laying his arms around you both.

The others also join your group embrace.

And so you stand here in the middle of the forest as you cry like a waterfall with the knowledge that is all good now.

You still hold the gun in your hand as you detach from each other.

A deep voice shouts, "Put the gun on the ground immediately, and move away".

Only now do you notice how the policemen’s weapons are directed at you for safety. The others quickly step away from you and obey the request of the cops.

Of course you also do what they say and put the gun on the floor to kick them to the cops. One of them takes the gun and removes the already empty magazine. Since you had no intention of shooting someone, you only had one bullet with you to save yourself when it was necessary. And it was necessary. Luckily you have at least a little idea how to shoot, even if your hit was more luck than reason. But it wasn’t very hard because the man without a face was pretty close to you when you pulled the gun and pulled the trigger without really thinking about it.

"All right, it’s not loaded," you assure.

And then you remember that maybe you should clarify that the raven man is still lying in the back of the forest, bleeding to death.

"The- the kidnapper is injured and out of action about 500 meters from here. He’s probably still alive, but he’s bleeding a lot. I had to defend myself and shoot him, but he’s gonna need help."

Four policemen set off without hesitation in the direction you showed them. One of the others reaches for his walkie- talkie and orders an ambulance.

"You shot him?" Richy asks in amazement.

"He attacked me, I couldn’t defend myself in a other way," you say.

"Never again, do you go into this forest alone! How do you get the idea to come here alone?" Jessy hisses, "Why don’t you tell us before? We would have accompanied you immediately".

"I had to do it, I heard the conversation from a policeman and Hannah, and I was afraid the officers would wait too long. So the best way, before he can escape, was to come here himself, and I wanted to talk to him before he is arrested. But then he wanted to attack me to escape. I’m sorry you had to worry about me." you look at your friends with a slight smile.

From further away you can hear sirens of the ambulance that was ordered.

"Do you think - do you think he’s dead?" Jessy asks carefully and pays attention to your reaction. She was afraid of how you’d react to that question.

"No, I’m pretty sure I can’t shoot that well. And honestly, I’d rather he rot in prison," you clench your hands into fists and tighten your jaw as his words come back into your head. 'A funny game'

"Let’s not think about it now, it’s over, we’ve done it," Cleo reassures you immediately.

"And we should talk to the police now, Hannah wants to meet her savior," Dan grins and winks at you.

"How is she?" you ask carefully.

"She has to stay in the hospital for the next few days, but she’s doing fine. Especially when we give her the message that it’s finally over," Richy looks proud at you.

Through the forest two paramedics come running towards you and at the same time they pull a stretcher behind them.

"Where do we have to go?" asks one of the helpers and at the same time you point in the right direction.

All but Dan, he’s pointing in the wrong direction, pretending there’s nothing going on. You held back a small grin and watched as the paramedics continued their way.

"Dan" hisses Jessy and has herself on her lips in a small smile.

"What? I saw about the bird in the hospital, I wouldn’t miss him," he shrugs.

"None of us would miss him," Cleo agrees.

During your conversation, some of the policemen had left and only Alan was standing a little off and waiting for your quiet moment.

"So sorry to interrupt you but we have to ask MC some questions before you can go to Hannah" slowly he came up to your group.

"Will MC get into trouble now? So, because of the gun and because she shot?" asks Jessy and clings afraid to your arm.

Yes, and then..the realization hits you like a punch.

You didn’t even think about, that you shouldn’t have that gun. And of course shooting people wasn’t legal either, but you had to defend yourself, who knows what else he would have done to you.

"Don’t worry, we’ll sort this out, I’ll make sure MC isn’t to blame. I’m standing on your side" he assures us, that we can do this together and smiles kindly.

Over time you have joined with him and found out some more details. To have Alan on your side, will become a really important plus point, in the course of time.

Relief spreads within you and you nod to him gratefully.

And as if the world had waited only for this moment, just now, the sun breaks through the treetops and shines directly on your small group.

The unpleasantly croaking ravens fall silent and are replaced by the singing of lovely birds.

The light wind warms up and the clouds fly by and leave a clear blue sky. The smell of rain and muddy forest soil is replaced by the fresh smell of flowers and bushes. Now.. now it’s finally gonna be okay.

---

🌹

#duskwood #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood prompt #duskwood mc #man without a face #duskwood mwaf #duskwood jessy #duskwood richy #duskwood dan #duskwood group #duskwood everbyte #everbyte studios

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thoughtfullyyoungduck · 5 years ago

Text

Telekinesis

Summary: a reddie x daughter where she has powers? maybe that when IT died his powers went to her in the form of like maybe telekinesis or sum and she tells them when all the losers are together and they don’t believe her at first so she shows them? kinda lame but i thought it’d be cool

Another book, another disappointment, another opportunity wasted. Mike’s library was empty, both from it being after-hours as it being located in Derry, and the only light Rachel has is the obstructed street lights, eluding to an eerie feeling of impending doom and death, a real life horror movie.

The lights inside the building had to be turned off, because Rachel’s parents, Eddie and Richie, were not allowed to have any clue that she’s in here in the first place. Unlike last time she snuck into the place and got nabbed on by the woman taking over Mike’s job while he’s away on holidays, she was now determined to emerge herself in every book hidden in the smallest gap until she found a solution to her problem.

See, coming to Derry, roughly two years ago now, had unveiled a lot of things about her dads. Those nights as a child fearfully disclosing that a monster housed under her bed, a little child’s imagination, but her dads reacted so fierce without them assimilating why suddenly made a lot more sense. Their monster, a clown hellbent on destroying their lives and everything they had built, using incomprehensible powers and abilities to do so, defeated on its own turve, wasted away on the perspective that no one wasn’t afraid of it any longer, withered away with one last trick up its sleeve. A last gift to the youngest member of the losers club.

Her hands curl around the pages with upmost precision, attentive not to rip the age-old pages from the rug. The typing circulates, switching letters in front of her until the words all lose their meaning and Rachel rests her eyes for a brief second. She’s been at it for hours, exchanging book after book, futile. The pages provided no more research then the internet had, the only search result being that of movies with ‘mutant powers’, or stories about the mentally deranged.

Rachel yells out in frustration, and the current book she’s devouring soars across the room, the book disintegrating and several pages scattering around.

‘Ow come on. But when I actually try to make something happen you don’t do anything.’

Discovering you have supernatural abilities, more specifically telekinesis in her case, is not as cracked up as the movies portray it, Rachel’s disclosing herself. After leaving Derry she didn’t even notice something off about her, hyped up on adrenaline, the real shock only showed when she dropped a photo frame and extended her hand, stopping it midair without touching the picture in any way.

She’d conjured the experience to a trick of the light, and paranoia embedded after Pennywise, but then the same thing occurred again but a few days later, a painting skidding from its nail in the wall and cracking the floor. The experience was bizarre, as Rachel vibrated with indignation the moment it happened, worked up on an assignment for school and as she reached for a pillow to muffle her screams of vexation, the painting bustled and sank down.

Then she knew for sure that something was going on. The first trip to Mike’s library, the only place Rachel could think off holding any of the answers she was desperate to find, forlorn as it might be, ended up unavailing, caught to fast to locate any books in the subject matter in the first place, but it made Rachel just more committed. So what if she’s technically not allowed to be in here? She’s sure that if she asked uncle Mike for his keys he would hand them over without a sliver of hesitation.

‘There has to be a book about this stuff right? How in the world did uncle Mike found the artifact from the 1800 if there was no book telling him where to go?’

Rachel sits up from her position on the floor, alleviating the strain on her legs, too unbothered and eager for information to keep going back and forth from the table to the shelf's and stretches, her joints popping and sliding back in place. She idly traces the spines of the ancient old books, pondering to herself about the titles.

She’d have to come back here someday, when she’s no longer pursued by the strange things she’s capable of doing out of the blue, because some of these books really peek her interest. But no book on the subject she’s looking for.

‘Okay please universe. You fucked me over enough already can you give me a break?’ If the universe is listening, it’s doing nothing but mocking her.

‘Rachel Maggie Kaspbrak-Tozier. What do you think you’re doing young lady? We told you to stay at the Inn while we cleaned up pops house. Now all the losers are are the hunt for you.’ Her dad’s low pitched voice criticized, belonging to a ticked off Eddie Kaspbrak, accompanied by Richie, of course Rachel can never only get in trouble with one parent, and Mike, the keys dangling from his hand.

Richie mounts the words; ‘Oeh someone’s in trouble’, face half pinched in stress and the other in pure and uninhabited mirth.

Fingers flipping her pops off, their own love languages, Eddie scowl turns up a notch, and Rachel abandons ship, changing her course and demonstrating her most conniving angel face.

Eddie and Richie near her, hugging her so tight her ribs creak, their labored breath only now picked up on by their daughter.

‘Don’t you ever’, Eddie threatens, dislodging himself away from their bear pile to survey Rachel with full conviction. ‘Do that to us again. Not anywhere, but especially not in Derry.’

Richie dots a kiss on her forehead, his arm capturing Eddie back into a clasp, the memory of Pennywise nearly swallowing his daughter whole tattooed in his brain.

‘What are you even doing in here? Don’t tell me my genes created someone who likes to learn? School stuff?’ Richie spits the words school like they leave a bad taste in his mouth, ‘Eddie, love of my life, did you have an affair on me?’

‘Richie focus, that’s so not the point. And no you idiot. I’d never do that to you.’

‘I’m hunting for a book’, Rachel informs, withholding part of truth as there’s no way she’s adding her problems on the pile of stress stacked upon Richie and Eddie’s lives.

Her pops trial only recently ended and her dad found a new job doing something he actually likes to do, and their lives are starting to clear up for once. Rachel was not about to add another card to the card house and watch it spring apart.

‘On what?’ Eddie asks suspiciously, one eyebrow creased as he observes his daughter, on the lookout for her telltale sign that’s she’s lying.

‘Witchcraft? It’s for school.’ Rachel trails off, her voice sounding questioningly to her own ears. Richie scrutinizes her, much more on guard and attentive then he gives himself credit for, but Mike, sickly sweet but a little tone deaf on the vibe in the room says; ‘Those books are upstairs in my special cabinet because they kept getting stolen, do you want me to go get them?’

Rachel’s flicks her eyes to the ceiling, grumbling under her breath with all the time that went to waste, then glancing back at Mike and kindly nodding her head. ‘That would be great, thank you uncle Mike.’

As he takes off to find the books, Richie and Eddie exchange puzzling peeks, doing their silent communication that drives Rachel crazy not being able to figure out what they’re saying.

‘Why would you need to write an assignment on witchcraft? Since when is that in the curriculum these days? Hey Eds we would have rocked that, we knew all about it.’ Richie inquires, excitingly jolting Eddie to go along with his story.

‘Since I got a new teacher who’s very interested in that stuff.’

‘Are you sure everything is okay? You’ve been acting weird for the past few weeks and I didn’t want to say anything or push you but I’m worried.’ Eddie asks, troubled trying to balance things in his life. He wants to keep prodding his daughter to know what’s wrong with her and to help her, but he’d rather die then turn out like his mother, and sometimes Eddie fears his lines are blurred.

‘Yeah, I’ve noticed it too’, Richie agrees, serious as the topic calls for it. ‘Whatever it is that’s bothering you, you can tell us.’

‘No I can’t, you won’t believe me.’

‘Sweetheart, we murdered a clown eating little kids and feeding off their fears, there’s nothing in the world that you can say that will prevent us from believe you.’

‘Okay fair,’ Rachel trails off apprehensive still, ‘but I don’t want to force additional stress on you guys, we’ve already had so much of that lately.’

‘Little me, if this is about the trial I’m really fucking sorry for putting you through that, but hoeza’, he jazzed hands towards himself, ‘I’m not going anywhere. I’ll never go anywhere either.’

Bursting into tears, Rachel inches closer to her pops and eases herself under his chin, her dad crams up against her side. ‘It’s not, but I’m really grateful for that pops. Promise you’ll believe me and won’t ship me off anywhere?’

‘What? Never. Nothing you’ll confess will ever make us regret you being born.’ Eddie says with vindication. ‘Absolutely nothing.’ The truth is Rachel is getting really tired of the secret she’s storing away, and she’s scared too. Terrified that someday she might accidentally hurt someone, or scared that she’s going to wake up one day and not perceive who she is.

‘I have telekinesis and I think it’s because of IT,’ she breathes out, tensing in her parents grasp as she waits for their reaction. It’s a peculiar statement to preach, but Rachel didn’t think her pops would flat out laugh at her, a reserved giggle that stops abruptly when Eddie mimes his lips shut.

‘What do you mean?’ Eddie asks cautiously.

‘You don’t believe me do you?’

‘It’s not about believing you sweetheart, it’s just where is this is all coming from? Wait, is this a prank you and Richie did to trick me? If so Pennywise is off limits so knock it off.’

‘Eds no-‘

‘No it’s not a prank, I’m serious.’ Rachel underscores, schlepping away from the both of them.

‘Bug, I don’t-‘

‘No, I’ll prove it.’

‘Okay’, Richie agrees trepidation, same as Eddie.

Rachel tries really hard, focusing all her energy and mind on levitating the same book she send flying across the room mere minutes ago, her fist balling and her face blushing in effort, but nothing occurs. Previous times this was the case too, it only happens when she’s focusing on something else, not the task at hand.

Richie snorts, assured that it’s a prank and he’s played by his own daughter, which usually wouldn’t be so far off, but this time it boils rage up under Rachels skin.

‘Stop laughing, I’ve been struggling with this for so long and all you do is laugh at me?’ Rachel grounds out, genuinely hurt that neither of her fathers take the time to listen to her.

Three things follow each other in rapid speed. The first is that Mike descends down the stairs, carrying two books, dustier than the town of Derry itself, and waving them around proudly. ‘I found them, I hope two is enough?’

The second is that the door to the library jingles, and the remaining pack of the losers walks in, and the third is the table starts vibrating, anger pulsing in Rachel’s veins having her focused on something else.

Eddie and Richie stare at the table in shock, their mouths agape as they switch to look between the table and their daughter.

‘Rachel?’

The table is ripped from the handles and jets over two shelf's of the library, landing right in front of the losers’ feet, all of them staring in bewilderment.

‘What the hell is going on in here?’

‘Mike, I think we’re going to need a lot more books.’

#reddie #reddie x daughter #my writing #Richie x Eddie #richie tozier imagine #eddie kaspbrak imagine #richie as a dad #eddie as a dad #richie as a parent #eddie as a parent #other losers are mentioned #mike hanlon

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just-jordie-things · 5 years ago

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50, 52, or 55 from the Kiss list with Richie x fem Reader please! Love your writing!

Kiss Prompt #55: True Love’s Kiss

___

After being forced to look into the deadlights by Pennywise, your body had gone into a coma-like state, and floated upwards about ten feet off the ground.

The Losers didn’t get to you until after they defeated Pennywise, and if they weren’t panicked enough, seeing you looking half-dead while floating in the air was sure unsettling.

“What the fuck!?” Richie shrieked, breaking into a sprint towards you, not that he could reach you by himself, but he sure tried.

“Rich- Richie slow down, hold on” Mike called, jogging to catch up with him, and help lift him up a bit so that he could pull you down by your ankles.

“(y/n/n)? (y/n)?” Richie shook your shoulders, but your eyes were still glazed over in your haze. Your feet weren’t even on the ground yet, but he still shook you.

“Richie! You’re gonna hurt her!” Beverly scolded.

“Why isn’t she waking up!?” Richie demanded, looking around at his friends for any sort of explanation.

But seeing as they weren’t experts on alien-monster-induced-comas, they didn’t have any suggestions.

In a moment of panic, Richie looked back at you, took your already cold face in his hands, and pushed his lips against yours.

“Oh- Richie what the fuck?” Eddie gagged. “That’s fucking weird man”

But Richie didn’t care. He pulled away, and watched your face with hopeful eyes. Everyone was silent for a few beats, hearts pounding with anticipation.

And then, you gasped, and fell from the few inches you were still floating. You stumbled a bit, your hands grabbing onto Richie’s arms to steady yourself, and breathing heavily, like you hadn’t had fresh air in years.

“Holy shit” Someone muttered behind the two of you.

You were staring at Richie with wide eyes while you calmed your breathing.

“You alright?” He asked quietly, and you nodded, before suddenly wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.

“That was the fucking kiss of life” Eddie muttered.

#richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier fanfiction #richie tozier scenario #richie tozier imagine

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theelliottsmiths · 4 years ago

Note

Farin Urlaub is what would happen if Max Headroom escaped his television, change my mind. (Also, I triple-dog dare you to write RZK/Bela slash for your next fic.) YOU DID THIS TO YOURSELF, YOU CREATED A MONSTER MWAHAHAHA -dÄ anon :^)

I... Yeah okay.

I'm about to do something awful to him and you and I'm so unbelievably fucking sorry but it is Halloween so first I'm going to remind you that I do think he's often quite pretty so it softens the blow

He. The dude from Poltergeist I. Please forgive me

As far as fic goes I do not at all know enough about any of the three to do that even if I wanted to but if I did it'd be Richard/Farin because it would be so fucking funny and also I don't know how to write someone I don't fancy.

I believe completely that Richard has been styling himself after Farin/dä since the 90s (including the name, weird that Richy Guitar existed before he changed his name...) and so it'd be Very Funny to have him pining.

#plus ethically i dont know if dä are okay with shipping whereas rammstein especially Richard seem to support it #me rambling

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trustsalvatorewriting · 5 years ago

Text

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 & 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬

hi! if you want to request for any of the fandoms i’m in, you don’t have to use these prompts! i’m just adding them in case you don’t know what to request. please follow the rules and have fun! also, the fandoms are not cut and dry. i will be adding more throughout time.

𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬

- i don’t write nsfw, sorry!

- please request one at a time for headcanons! ( this doesn’t apply to poly headcanons or fics )

- i won’t write anything that romanticizes triggering topics such as s*lf-h*rm, ab*se, r*pe, inc*st, or anything like that. please don’t ask for it, thank you.

- i reserve the right to deny a request. this is my account and it represents me as a writer. please respect that.

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐬

A Series of Unfortunate Events Violet Baudelaire, Malina Weissman

Avatar the Last Airbender Zuko, Mai

Disney Maya Hart, Farkle Minkus, Sabrina Carpenter, Corey Fogelmanis, Rowan Blanchard, Mal Bertha, Prince Ben, Jay Jafarson, Harry Hook, Dove Cameron, Thomas Doherty, Booboo Stewart

Friends Chandler Bing, Joey Tribbiani

Fruits Basket Kyo Sohma, Yuki Sohma, Tohru Honda

Game of Thrones Daenerys Targaryen, Missandei, Arya Stark, Emilia Clarke

IT 2017 Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough, Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak, Stanley Uris, Sophia Lillis, Jaeden Martell, Finn Wolfhard, Jack Dylan Grazer, Wyatt Oleff, Bill Skarsgard

Legacies Hope Mikaelson, Josie Saltzman, Penelope Park, Danielle Rose Russell, Kaylee Bryant, Lulu Antariksa

Ouran HighSchool Host Club Tamaki Suoh, Kyoya Ootori, Hikaru Hitachiin, Kaoru Hitachiin, Mitsukini Haninozuka (Honey), Takashi Morinozuka (Mori), Haruhi Fujioka * I only write platonic for Honey, sorry!

Percy Jackson / Heroes of Olympus Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase, Rachel Dare, Leo Valdez, Nico di Angelo

Red Band Society Emma Chota, Jordi Palacios

Sherlock Sherlock Holmes, Irene Adler

Stranger Things Max Mayfield, Mike Wheeler, El “Eleven” Hopper

The Fault In Our Stars Hazel Grace Lancaster, Augustus Waters, Ansel Elgort

The Hunger Games Finnick Odair, Sam Claflin

The Originals Klaus Mikaelson, Rebekah Mikaelson, Kol Mikaelson, “Kaleb” Mikaelson, Hayley Marshall, Hope Mikaelson, Danielle Rose Russell

The Perks of Being A Wallflower Charlie, Patrick, Sam, Ezra Miller

Twilight Edward Cullen, Bella Swan, Rosalie Hale, Emmett Cullen, Alice Cullen, Jasper Hale, Victoria

Victorious Jade West, Beck Oliver

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬

angst

1. “please don’t cry”

2. “please stop lying to me”

3. “can you just shut up for once in your life?”

4. “i don’t care”

5. “and that makes it okay?”

6. “what makes you think i would ever want to be with you?”

7. “when did you fall out of love with me?”

8. “i shouldn’t love you, but i couldn’t help it.”

9. “i always knew that you were too damn selfish.”

10. “are you leaving me?”

11. “loving you is a fucking death sentence.”

12. “you’re gone. i watched your disappear.”

13. “am i going to die?”

14. “you’re the worst mistake i’ve ever fucking made!”

15. “i don’t know how to look you in the eye after the things i’ve done.”

16. “it’s only 2.a.m...”

17. “you are the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

18. “please don’t hide from me.”

20. “i wish we met before they convinced your life is war.”

21. “have you ever loved me? you know what... don’t say anything. i already know the answer.”

22. “don’t take another step in my direction.”

23. “your enemy whispers so you have to scream.”

24. “don’t think i don’t see how they fall for all of your charms.”

25. “after all you’ve put me through, don’t say that you were not the monster that i knew.”

fluff

1. “why don’t you stay the night?”

2. “i’ll feel much better if you let me walk you home.”

3. “i wanted to say ‘i love you’ without stuttering. i failed.”

4. “i fucking love you.” “hang up, and tell me this when you’re sober.”

5. “i never thought there’d be someone like you who would want me, so i’ll give you ten thousand reasons to not let me go.”

6. “do you really need all that candy?”

7. “stop being so cute.”

8. “i can’t reach it!”

9. “there’s three of us; choose one.”

10. “just go back to sleep. everything’s all right.”

11. “can you please go sit in another room or something? i can’t concentrate with you around.”

12. “i get that you’re way taller than me, but do you really have to steal all the blankets? i’m fucking cold.”

13. “call me as soon as you get home.”

14. “did you just -- did you just throw salt at me? i’m not possessed!”

15. “you said my name in your sleep.”

16. “could you help me out? i am very gay and i would like a few dollars.”

17. “i’ve connected the dots.” “you didn’t connect shit.” “i’ve connected them.”

18. “let’s watch sharkboy and lavagirl.” “okay.” “and make out during the scary parts.” “the scary parts.” “yeah.” “of sharkboy and lavagirl.”

19. “yeah, you watched ten seasons of keeping up with the kardashians.”

20. “now, me, i’m a bit of a romantic. i believe she eloped.”

21. “give me a heads-up if you start feeling murderous, i would appreciate that.”

22. “that’s not true! my wife is a bitch and i like her so much.”

23. “i have a girlfriend / boyfriend now myself, which is weird because i’m probably gay based on how i’ve talked and talked for 28 years.”

24. “do you want me to kill that guy for you? because it sounds like he sucks and i would totally kill that guy for you.

25. “what can i say? i’m charming and irresponsible.” “you mean irresistable?” “no.”

𝐅𝐀𝐐 (𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐀𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬)

Q: Did you die?

A: This is patronizing. It’s rude and I ask that you don’t ask me this question. I have a life outside of Tumblr.

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t4tozier · 5 years ago

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i’m gonna uhh post some snippets of fics i’ll never continue to write okay let’s go

“Eddie ran away for the first time when he was ten years old. He’d just been to the pharmacy and found out that all the medication he’d been taking--for years--was fake. He didn’t want to believe it. Greta Keene, the girl who’d told him, was a notorious liar. Any other time, he wouldn’t have believed her. And yet, somehow, he knew she was telling the truth. He could feel it in his gut. So he ran. He didn’t bother going home, just ran straight from the pharmacy into the woods.

His mother always told him not to play in the woods. They were dangerous, she told him. All sorts of hidden monsters. But Eddie went all the way to the middle of the woods and all he saw was a well. It was old and dirty, something his mother would never approve of him even getting near. But something about the well drew him in, so he slowly approached it. Eddie gripped the edge of the well, tilting up on his tiptoes to look inside.

In the stories his dad read to him when he was little, these wells were magic. They often didn’t even have water in them, much as this one didn’t, but it didn’t matter. The stories said that if you looked inside and spoke your heart’s desire, it would come true. That’s why they were called wishing wells.

Eddie took a deep breath and thought hard about what he wanted to say. It didn’t take long before it came to him and he closed his eyes before speaking. “I wish I could get far away from this place,” he whispered, then fell silent, waiting for...something. But nothing happened. No sudden gust of wind, no chiming of bells. He wasn’t sure why he thought it would. Eddie sighed. He guessed he’d have to go back to his house now, since his wish clearly didn’t work. He turned around and was immediately faced with a boy.

Eddie yelped and jumped back, hitting the well hard and falling backwards. For a moment, he was terrified he was going to die. But then the boy grabbed his hand and pulled him back up, tugging him into his chest. Eddie’s heart flew up out of his throat as his hands connected with the boy’s chest. “H-hi,” he breathed, blinking up at him.

“Hi!” the taller boy chirped back. “My name’s Richie. What’s yours?” Eddie was pretty sure he’d never seen this boy before in all the years he’d lived here. He had big blue eyes and curly black hair. His face was covered in freckles, and as he smiled down at Eddie, his teeth were bonded by neon green braces. He was tall too, wow. Eddie hadn’t hit his growth spurt yet. His ma said it was ‘cause he was fragile. He wasn’t sure how true that was, but looking into the bright eyes of the boy in front of him, all other thoughts of his ma were erased from his mind.

“D-do you live here?” Eddie got out, completely ignoring the other’s question. The boy—Richie—laughed, displaying those neon braces again.

“Yeah, I do. I’m homeschooled, though, so I don’t go to the school with the rest of the kids.” He looked a little sad about it, but the expression vanished as he continued. “I got this thing called dyslexia, so I can’t really read or write too good. Mags says the teachers were mean when I was in regular school, so she’s teachin’ me herself. I still don’t really got it, though. I dunno if I’m ever gonna.”

Eddie cocked his head, lips parted as he looked up at this boy. He didn’t know what dyslexia was, and he didn’t know Richie at all. But he blurted out, “I could teach you.” A voice in his head warned him to take it back, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to know more about this strange boy with the freckles and the neon braces.”

-Danny, Dakota, and the Wishing Well songfic

——————————————————————————

“We have an assignment for you.”

Edward scoffed. “I’ve told you a thousand times, I’m not taking any more—”

“He’s a nephilim.”

That piqued Edward’s interest. He slowly sat up. “A nephilim? And you trust me to watch him?” The Council nodded. Edward considered it. After so many years...would he even be a good enough guardian? Especially for a nephilim—he’d never been charged to guard one before. But maybe...just maybe...this would be what he needed. The last one, to prove to them that he was better off in retirement. “What…what’s the kid’s name?”

“Richard Tozier.”

-the end of my Eddie/Adrian guardian angel au

——————————————————————————

“Richie didn’t know what he expected when he died. He’d always been told that his soul would be alive forever, living on even after his body had passed. He didn’t know if he believed that, though. The concept of everyone living forever? It was almost too much to think about. He figured once he died, he wouldn’t wake up. It would just be blackness for eternity.

Richie was not expecting this.

The first thing he was aware of was music. There was music dancing through the air, lively music with lots of brass. It sounded like something he’d hear at home in Santa Cecilia. Richie thought he was back home, and quickly cracked open an eye.

From what he could see, his side was pressed into a pile of marigold petals. When he opened his mouth, he spat out more petals, wrinkling his nose in disgust. That felt weird.

———

“Señor Tozier...lo siento, pero...usted mueró. Sé no es fácil entender, pero—”

“¡No!” Richie stood up, running skeletal fingers through straw-like hair. “No, it can’t be! I can’t be dead, I need to tell Eddie I love him, I need to see Coco, I can’t have died!” He was pacing, aching with tears that couldn’t be shed. “It’s too early, I’m supposed to be at home! I can’t—” He cut himself off with a dry sob.

The woman stood up from her chair, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Señor, por favor, usted necesita respirar, ¿sí?”

Richie shook her hand off. “¿Respira? ¿Respira? ¡No tengo livianos, no puedo respirar!” He sounded frantic.”

-chap. 2 of beat of my heart, my coco reddie au

——————————————————————————

These could possibly be triggering to people with dermatillomania or who self-harm so take care of yourself! I’ll put it under a cut once I’m off mobile

He had a ring of white scars around his face, oddly shaped.

“Aren’t you hot?”

“No,” the boy said simply. His left hand twitched, almost imperceptibly.

——————

Stan quietly took a seat across from him. His hands kept moving—drumming his fingers on the table, pressing down on his leg, nails digging into his palm. At one point, he started to roll up his sleeve impatiently, but Bev placed a hand on his shoulder and he pushed it back down, sighing. She seemed pleased, and intertwined her fingers with his before continuing to chat with Richie and Bill. The whole interaction left Eddie even more confused. He hadn’t seen any sort of sign that they were in a relationship, and yet here they were, holding hands in public! It all seemed rather odd.

——————

“He just needs more support than most people, that’s all,” Richie said easily. Sensing that this wasn’t the answer that Eddie wanted, he added, “Look, I’d tell you, but it’s not my place to say. Ol’ Stanny Boy will spill when he’s ready.” Eddie still wasn’t satisfied, but he let it go. Besides, the sinking feeling in Eddie’s gut told him he already knew the answer.

——————

Stan sighed. “I have this...thing. It’s...well, it’s a form of OCD. I’ve had it for years now, since probably the summer of my sophomore year. I don’t know what brought it on, to be honest. I’ve wracked my brain and I can’t think of any valid reason why I’m...like this.” He took a deep breath. “It’s called dermatillomania. Basically, I pick my skin. A lot. I can’t help it; it’s like a compulsion. I guess that’s why it’s part of OCD. It’s mostly just my arms and my face. That’s what all these scars are,” he added, pointing at the ring of white splotches circling his face. “That was before I realized how bad it was. I did it without noticing the effects. By now it’s too late to get rid of them. They’re scars now, nothing I can do about it. It’s really bad, Mike. I can’t take a shower or be in front of the mirror for too long, I can’t wear t-shirts or tank tops or go shirtless in the summer. Long sleeves are just about the only thing that stops me, and even then, I have plenty of things on my forearms that I could pick too. If someone isn’t there with me to physically stop me, I could just stay there for an hour, at least, just finding any raised bump on my skin that I can dig at until it bleeds.” He grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

Mike shook his head. “Don’t apologize, Stan. I want you to talk about it; it’s good for you. As long as you’re okay with telling me, I want to hear it.”

Stan gave him a small smile. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

“Of course,” Mike responded, returning the shy smile.“Do you want to talk about it more?”

“I mean, if you’re sure I’m not grossing you out,” Stan said, rubbing his arm self-consciously.

“Stan, you could never gross me out, I swear.”

The reassurance seemed to give Stan a second wind. “Honestly? I don’t know what I’d do without Rich and Bev. I’d be so much worse off. I have no self control when it comes to picking. I have to have Richie in the bathroom with me when I shower, or brush my teeth, or wash my face, because if I’m exposed to my own skin I won’t be able to stop myself. Richie is my rock. As much as he gets on my nerves sometimes—he’s my rock. He’s always there to ground me and tell me to snap out of it, and it’s one of the only things I’ve never heard him joke about.” Stan paused for a second, staring into the fire as he weighed his next words. He sighed. “I just...sometimes I hate myself for it, you know? Like, how weak must I be if I can’t wear a t-shirt without wanting to rip open my skin? How pathetic am I if I need to have someone with me at all times in case—god forbid—I take my jacket off? I feel so helpless. I can’t control it. As much as I want to, I can’t. There are times when nobody’s around, and I’ll sit on a disgusting hotel bed and pick at my skin until my arms are bleeding and scabbing over and it looks like I’m diseased because all my skin is pink and raised, and I’ll hate myself for doing it because I’m telling myself to stop even as I keep picking and I can’t stop myself until one of them comes in and starts crying because oh shit, Stan fucked up again and I hate it I hate it I hate it—”

“Stan, Stan, listen to me.” Mike grabbed his face in his hands. “Look at me, okay? No matter what you think, you are not pathetic.”

-stan’s derma scenes, as we fall softly

#i have more probably but this is gonna be hella long so ill make another post #i just realized i didnt translate half of richies words oops #ronan writes #reddie #stan uris #stanlon #richie tozier #stanley uris #eddie kaspbrak #mike hanlon

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assholetozier · 5 years ago

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All You Need Is Love~

Hi! I haven’t been on Tumblr in over two years.. and I just found this short little draft piece I wrote the last time I was here. It’s something that I put a lot of heart into when I first wrote, and I decided to publish it after all this time. If anyone has any requests for fics or anything, please let me know! I’d love to get back into writing.

Quick disclaimer; I wrote this a long time ago, and i had no personal experience with OCD, so if this story is completely off I do sincerely apologize! If I got anything wrong, please feel free to *nicely* give feedback and let me know what I screwed up on!

Trigger Warning- self harm ///

***************************************************

The nights like these were the ones that made Stan regret every decision he's made since he was ten.

Ten was the age when his OCD had slowly started to take over his brain, along with everyone and everything else in his life. At first, it wasn't that bad; just weird that a young boy folded all of his socks and kept everything in order.

What it became over the years, however was a monster over his shoulder. He couldn't sleep at if his sheets weren't tucked, clean and flat. He couldn't just touch something with one hand and not the other without pinching himself, HARD, on both wrists.

When pinching didn't help him anymore, he started putting his hands over lit candles. Which led to razors across wrists, in perfect alignment and symmetry every time.

He didn't know what was wrong. Why couldn't he be normal like his friends? Play at the quarry and have fun without worrying about his feet being perfectly side by side or if his hair was in perfect circle curls. Stan Uris was starting to go mad.

He sat on top of his window sill, looking up at the moon and the stars with a specific... glow that night. His ears were ringing from the yelling he just received from his father about the way Stanley practices his religion.

So what if he honestly didn't give a shit about reading his Torah? Stan had started believing that this was all bullshit; if there was a god out there somewhere he would not let Stan suffer the way he was.

He thought about running over to Richie's, but he knew he had probably ran over to Eddie's for the same reason. Ben's? His mother would talk with his father.... no, that's the last thing he NEEDED.

Beverly and Mike were out roller blading that night alone since everyone else couldn't seem to keep up with the two.

The only person left he could think of was Bill. The boy with the silky pale skin and eyes that made Stan melt. Bill may have been babysitting Georgie that night but honestly, Stan loved that kid and would take any distraction he could get.

And that's how Uris ended up tapping on the pale boy's window, once with each index finger. Twice. For a few seconds, there was nothing, and before Stan could walk away the window slammed open.

"Hey B-bird boy! How can I assist y-you?"

God, did Stan love this boy.

But he rolled his eyes, "Don't call me that, Billiam. Can I crash here tonight?"

They made a knowing eye contact. Bill was the only one who knew about Stan's sad excuse for a father besides for Richie. He planned to keep it that way.

Bill smiles, "Well, are you g-guh-gonna come in?"

The curly haired boy feels himself pulled into the warm room and immediately feel into the familiar bed. It smelled like cinnoman and microwave popcorn.

"Did it h-happen again, Stan?"

He didn't answer, just stared up at the ceiling. He felt a gush of wind as Bill shut the window, run along his wrists.

Stan was wearing a short sleeve shirt.

"Stan?"

"Hmm?"

Bill sighed, "You can t-tell me anything, okay?"

Stan nods frantically, "Yes of course Big Bill....do you have a sweater I can borrow? It's freezing."

The boy oblidged, rummaging through his closet before finding his Ghost Busters hoodie and handing it to the boy.

As Stan reached for it, Bill audibly gulps. His eyes widen, and he scratches his own wrists.

"S-s-Stan?"

The curly haired boy was too busy putting on the hoodie to notice what Bill was freaking over. As soon as he got it over his head though, he squealed.

"Bill, it's not-"

Bill coughs, "How long?"

"What?"

"How long have you been doing this to yourself!" Bill's voice cracked, but it never stuttered.

Stan realized how serious this was.

He lowers his head, "Since I was twelve."

The pale boy's eyes bulged out of his skull. He takes a step back.

"So for the past three years... why d-didn't you tell me?"

"Because I knew this would happen!"

Bill raised an eyebrow, "...what to you mean?”

Stan could feel his heart racing a million miles per minute... it was almost as if he could feel the imprint of his heart if he touched his chest. He knew Bill was angry at him, shit he’d be angry at himself. He wanted to tell someone, anyone, but every time he tried the words wouldn’t come out.

And that’s what happened this time, too. He opened his mouth to speak... but the same lump in his throat formed. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. Tears pooled in his eyes, blurring his vision. Stan started to pinch himself, hard, two times on each wrist repeatedly, begging for it to help him calm down. Nothing was working.

Stan could hear Bill trying to talk to him, but it was almost as if he was screaming from a distance. His body turned to jello, and felt himself double over into Bill’s arms.

He didn’t want to disappoint anyone ever, and now he’s disappointed one of the most important people on the planet.

As Stan came to, he could feel the warmth on his back from Bill’s arms, holding him firmly and calming him. His breathing slowed, his heart began casually thumping at a normal pace. The curly headed boy allowed himself to lay his head in the crevice of Bills shoulder.

“I didn’t... I didn’t want to disappoint anyone.” It came out in between sniffles and coughs, but god damnit it came out and that was all that mattered.

Bill lifted up Stan’s head, and used his thumbs to wipe the tears off the boy’s cheeks. He looked directly into Stanley’s eyes, and Stan could feel himself swimming in the deep pools.

“I will never be disappointed in you struggling.”

The two boys hugged for a couple of minutes; neither knowing what to say, instead allowing the silence to speak for them. Every second that passed, the tighter the two squeezed, and the more safe Stan felt. He hadn’t felt this safe since the last time his mother tucked him in at night.

Suddenly, there was padded footsteps coming down the hall, followed by a quiet knock at the door.

“Billy...? The timer went off for the brownies a couple minutes ag-”

Bill jumped, and looked up over at Stan, “I t-tuh-totally forgot, tonight w-w-was movie night. Do you want to j-j-join us?”

“Yes please,” Stan couldn’t hold his laughter at Bill’s fluster, as he ran out to check the oven.

When Stan sat on the Denbrough couch, with his head on Bill’s shoulder and Georgie laid across his lap... he realized everything would be okay in the end. He bit each of his cheeks, smiled, and looked up at the opening scene.

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pinkykitten · 5 years ago

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Mirrors of Nightmares

IT chapter 2

Bill Denbrough x sister! female reader (non-romantic)

Warning: gore, blood, violence, horror, death, cursing

Specifics: horror, platonic, violence, angst, action, one-shot, race neutral reader, brother/sister

People: bill denbrough, little boy, pennywise

Words: 1,513

Requested: By anon Hi!!! I just saw it chapter 2 and it was so good! Could you write where the reader is bill denbrough little sister (by like 1 or 2 years) and she was apart of the losers club and they come back to Derry and she goes with bill in the mirror maze and after the kid dies she has a panic attack and bill has to help calm her down and comfort her?

Authors Note: my first IT fic! i luv this movie franchise thing sm like yall have no idea. my fav is richie and i luv bill hader on a scary kinda level u know? but im srry for taking a gazzilion years, life is a butthole and keeps me away from fun and u guys.

It was fear. You felt almost your stomach drop entering into Derry again, after so many years. As trees move side to side from the wind and shake so did your hands. You began to see yourself as fragile and weak once more, just like when you and the rest of the gang were little. Sometimes you felt alone in all of this nightmare, like the world was a vast, endless space of black nothingness and you were fighting to stay alive, all alone. Bill - your brother - made you look at life through another lens. He kept you alive. He made you feel strong. Whenever life seemed unbearable he was there for you just like the older, protective brother he was. His number one - when entering into this memorable town again - was making sure you were safe.

If only he could suck - like a vacuum cleaner - all those terrible moments from that terrible clown that laid burrowed in your head.

In the moment of hero or a savior you put someone above you. Someones safety and life on top of your own. Their life is in your hand. No matter what you do you are the ending decision of their fate.

“Not this little boy,” you cried in your mind as you and Bill teamed up as sister and brother, like a team, but it was no cheerful time. Time was ticking and either you and Bill stop Pennywise from hurting this boy or the boy becomes non existent.

The carnival was supposed to be a trip full of laughter and fun but instead it made you anxious. Hearing the different, loud noises made it difficult to focus, along with the hoard of people leaving and entering.

“This way,” Bill waved his hand forward as he started sprinting.

You followed him, feeling your heart beat rapidly and vigorously. Your eyes tried to find the little boy. He was not safe. He was in grave danger. “There!” You see the young kid giving tickets to a little girl. “He’s right there.”

“Hey! Hey kid!” Bill shouted as he ran to the child. “Kid!”

The blonde haired boy walked in the fun house. Not knowing the evil that followed him.

“He can’t hear us.” You both jump into the twirling of the carnival entrance and are greeted with neon, glow in the dark clowns that sway back and forth on a path.

One hits Bill as he passes. You go to his aid. “Are you okay Bill?”

“Yeah I’m fine. Lets go.” He grabs onto your arm, protectively.

As you proceed there is a huge room filled with only mirrors. It makes you dizzy and unsure as you see you and Bill through your reflection. “Where did he go?”

“I don’t know but stay close.”

Lights were blinking constantly making your eyes and head hurt. You and Bill touched the mirrors to try to find an exit to continue on to find the kid. That was all part of the game, all part of the chase. The kid walked by further away.

“Kid!” You and Bill shouted over and over in unison.

Bill ran and was greeted with glass or the mirror.

You went to the opposite end to try to find another way to the child seeing as Bill was blocked all around. You knew this was Pennywise’s doing. “I know I can find him.” You were met with a dead end and tried to go back to Bill but you were enclosed in one area. “Bill!” You got frightened as you couldn’t go back to him. The side you were on was getting smaller and as you turned to your right you saw the little boy.

“Y/n!” Bill screamed. He sprinted to you and the kid but was met with another glass.

You saw Pennywise walk past you with a horrific smile on his face. “Bill I saw IT! IT’s here! He’s here!” Bill’s forehead pressed against the glass. He felt powerless.

You placed your hand on the glass. “Whatever happens Bill promise me you will help that boy. Please.”

Bill started to panic as his breathing became harsh and tears were starting to fall from his eyes. You were his baby sister, he vowed to protect you all his life. “N-o y/n! N-n-no!” He tried breaking the glass.

“What are you two doing here?” The kid was confused. “Both of you stop following me!”

“We’re only trying to help you,” you said.

“I-I’m gonna g-get you both o-o-o-out.” Bill became more and more afraid.

Suddenly, behind you and the child Pennywise laid his long tongue flat against the glass, licking up. The sight and noise was chilling. The face of the little boy’s was traumatic.

“No stop. Stop!” Your whole body shook.

“Please,” Bill cried some more feeling useless.

“I’m here. I’m right here just t-take me,” Bill pleaded to Pennywise.

Pennywise started to cackle as he hit the glass of yours and the boys with his head.

“Son of a b*tch!’ Bill cursed.

You screamed as Pennywise did it harder and faster. You and the boy both huddled by the corner of your glass rooms. Bill, repeatedly, tried breaking the glass. He tried with his hands, fists, feet, but nothing worked. Your eyes teared up as you saw the glass cracking with each blow Pennywise gave it. This was the end. It was either you or the kid and a hero puts the kid first. You gave a knowing look to Bill to remind him of what you asked for.

Pennywise paused and gave a huge, demonic smile. “Billy boy, which one do you choose? The boy or your sister?”

“No Bill don’t do this. Remember what I told you.”

Bill screamed, “stop! No!”

“I am going to give you a riddle. If you guess right you save the kid but I kill your sister, if you guess wrong I save you sister but I kill the kid. You only get one try and if you don’t answer at all,” Pennywise smile grew, “I’ll kill them all.”

There was an argument going all around. Bill felt pressured and didn’t know what to do. He loved you more than life and needed to save you but the boy also needed saving.

“Bill please, I’l be fine.” You smiled, tears falling down.

“...fine. I’ll do your riddle.”

“The person who built it sold it. The person who bought it never used it. The person who used it never saw it. What is it?”

Bill thought in his head all the possibilities.

“Bill choose-!”

“No helping him,” Pennywise shook his finger. “Time is ticking, what will it be? You only have one chance.”

One chance to choose the fate of the people in front of him.

“A lie?” Bill asked.

The world became quiet and Pennywise’s smile enlarged showing more teeth and fangs. “If only you said coffin.” Pennywise broke through the glass and ate the little boy right up.

Blood splattering on the glass.

You and Bill screamed as the lights flickered showing a gone little boy who knew nothing of this nightmare and was purely innocent.

“No,” you felt defeated, crying. You and Bill finally met up at the exit of the mirror rooms.

“Oh my God,” Bill embraced you. Fighting the urge to sob uncontrollably.

“I’m sorry Bill. If I didn’t leave you none of this would of happened.”

“Its not your fault.”

You remembered that boy. How scared he looked but yet there was hope in his eyes. Hope that the adults would save the day. The memory of his wine colored blood splattering on the glass flashed within your mind. You bent over a trash can to hurl.

Bill patted your back, “that’s it. Let it out.”

You couldn’t breathe. The drumming within your chest increased to a rapid pattern. You tried to search for a comfort object that your eyes could land on. The activity was busy at the carnival and made it worse for you. The noises, screams, cheers. Panic was bubbling in your gut and you were about to erupt like a volcano. “Bill.”

Bill knew that look. For Pete’s sake you were his sister! He pressured you to sit down and tuck your head in between your legs. “Breathe y/n. You’re okay. I’m here and I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you.”

You did as you were told. Gripping onto Bill’s hand like when you were little and you ran to his room claiming you saw a monster under your bed. He would let you cry and console you. He was your calming system. You felt at home and safe with your big brother. Bill hugged you and you leaned your head against his shoulder.

“Sometimes I think I’m crazy, that its all in my head.” You sniffled. Voice rough and scratchy from the screaming and crying. “Then IT does something like that that makes me see that its all real. That Bill, that is what scares me the most.”

“I know,” he whispered. “I know.

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ashfountainfanfics · 5 years ago

Text

“This is ridiculous,” Mike sighs in exasperation, “my friends and I had nothing to do with any of this.”

The detective at the other end of the table doesn’t seem to accept this. She’s a recent transplant from another state. Most of the Derry police department leaves Mike be, summing up his interest in police matters as a side effect of his fascination with Derry history. She doesn’t seem to be interested in giving that same assumption.

“You keep saying that,” she pushes, “but I think it’s strange that you show up to all the crime scenes and that two of your friends harassed one of the victims. Not to mention that Henry Bowers was found dead under your place of residency.”

Mike is growing more and more frustrated. It was surreal when the police showed up at dinner last night. The Losers Club plus the small group of cops nearly overwhelmed the small Italian place they’d been enjoying.

Bev, Ben, and Eddie are sitting in the lobby while Richie and Bill are in cuffs. Mike is somewhere between the two options or so he figures. He’s not sure he likes those odds.

Detective Lopez fixes him with a look that lacks any hint of retreat or gentility. She’s a no nonsense kind of woman. Her curly, dark hair is cropped in a pixie cut and her face is bare and set in a deadpan expression. Her blouse is a gray button up and the lanyard of her badge is tucked under her collar.

“It’s a small town,” Mike responds, “coincidences are everywhere.”

“Nothing is ever just a coincidence. Did you know Mr. Bowers?”

Mike calmly explains how Henry Bowers was the resident bully when they were children. How often that bullying went past simple pranks and low grade violence. To stop at calling Henry a bully was like trying to call Ted Bundy just an unfortunate date.

“You can ask Ben about his scar, that should give you a clue.”

“I understand that Mr Bowers had a history of violence and mental illness-“

“Being an angry white boy is not a mental illness,” Mike points out.

“Agreed,” Detective Lopez says flatly, “but that isn’t my point. My point is that several children and a man named Adrian Melon are dead and the escape of Mr. Bowers does not correlate with those deaths.”

“It doesn’t correlate with the arrival of my friends either. They weren’t here.”

“But you were.”

Mike is taken aback by the remark. All this time he’s been keeping watch, dreading the day that Derry needed saving but looking to save it nonetheless. Not that this town ever gifted him much beyond tolerance. He has no adult friends here, no significant others, only a series of routine faces that note his presence. Derry, Maine isn’t friendly or good. It’s not even scenic but he wanted to save it anyway. His jaw tightens.

“Of course I was here. I live in Derry. I’ve lived here most of my life, where else would I be?”

“You didn’t know these kids. You didn’t know Adrian Melon. Why did you visit the crime scenes? What business did you have being there?”

Detective Lopez is standing over him now with her hands planted on the table. She does this all calmly with very direct body movements. She never lets her frustration get to her. She harnesses it into orderly conduct and in a way it’s terrifying.

But she’s an outsider without all the facts. You can tell she comes from a big city by her demeanor and her thought process. Often a crime is committed by someone close to the victim or someone that makes themselves close. Contrary to the movies, the person most likely to kill you is the one in plain sight and right next to you. Monsters that hide in the dark and stalk you like prey aren’t the norm.

Mike is glad that he and his friends got rid of that norm for Derry.

“Detective Lopez? Have you ever seen someone die-“

“Of course I have. I’m a homicide detective.”

“I wasn’t finished,” Mike insists, “I was asking if you’ve ever seen someone die when you were a child?”

This gives her pause. Her elbows soften the smallest amount and her hesitancy is plain to Mike. She doesn’t sit. There’s no way she’s backing down that quickly but it’s clear she’s listening.

“I can’t say I have, why?”

“If you take the time to look into me a bit more you’ll know that my parents died in a fire and I was in the other room. I was too little to help them. I couldn’t save them.”

Now Detective Lopez sits down. Her posture is unnaturally straight and her gaze is still unwavering. This is either the best she can do to convey being receptive or it’s the most she’s willing to give.

“Can you imagine the sort of impact that has? I couldn’t even put down a sheep on the farm I grew up on. The idea of causing harm to anyone or anything, indirect or necessary or otherwise, still makes me sick. So please, Detective Lopez, don’t insult me with what you’re trying to infer.”

“Be blunt then. What were you doing?”

“Trying to see if there was a way to stop it. If you look at our history, you’ll see there’s a pattern. Every 27 years since the town was formed, a stretch of terrible things happen. That’s longer than I’ve been alive. Longer than my family’s been in Derry.

I thought maybe if I could pay attention for the next phase I could find the connection. I could save them.”

Mike can see that she’s regarding him as an absolute looney but Mike hopes it’s the harmless kind. She can picture him tinfoil hat and all if it means she doesn’t see him as a murderer.

“And what did you find?”

Mike decides that this is as good a time as any to tell one last lie. It’s not like she’d understand the truth of the matter. She’s the type to only accept hard facts and indisputable evidence. There isn’t anything he can show her to back the truth. Nothing but a lot of rubble on Neibolt street.

“I found nothing. Whatever makes this town the way it is, it’s not for me to understand.”

It’s not entirely a lie. Pennywise was just a part of what made Derry the way it is. Its death isn’t going to cure Derry of its bigotry overnight. There will still be small minded people, violent people. Mike will never understand that.

“So you’re giving up? Just like that?”

“I almost died because a literal living relic of my past broke out of an insane asylum and tried to kill me. I think that’s a sufficient wake up call that I’ve wasted too much time on this town and my own baggage.”

Mike can’t tell if she’s buying it or not. Detective Lopez gives away nothing. She’s an absolute professional to the core. Mike respects that. Derry could use someone on the force who can’t be swayed.

“I may need you to call you back in to corroborate a few stories so don’t skip town,” she gives him a curt nod, “You’re free to go.”

Detective Lopez opens the door to Mike’s freedom. Mike has a feeling that the others have been given similar instructions or that they will be given them. He wonders briefly if they should have thought ahead to confirm a set story with each other but he thinks better of it. None of the Losers are crazy enough to tell the truth.

“Hanlon, wait,” the detective stops him as soon as he’s out of the door frame, “tell your comedian friend that making jokes isn’t going to work with me. It’s not endearing and he’s digging a much bigger hole for himself.”

“Ma’am, with all due respect, trying to get him to stop is a joke in and of itself.”

—-

“Her first name is Jennifer!” Richie shouts as if wounded, “Last name Lopez! What did you want me to do?”

Richie can tell that his lawyer is not amused. His voice sounds really far away and it is. He’s driving to Derry as fast as he can.

“Richie, this isn’t your usual legal trouble. This isn’t stolen material or a damaged room-“

“That was one time and I was still a baby! How was I supposed to know what ecstasy looks like? You’re about to see the podunk town I grew up in, man.”

“They’re talking homicide!”

“I still cry over Bambi, for fuck’s sake. Do you seriously think I’d kill anyone for fun?”

“Of course not.”

Roger Clemming has been Richie’s lawyer since the start of his career. He’s a cousin of his manager and normally Roger has no qualms about representing Richie. Most of his legal cases aren’t even his; the man doesn’t write his own stand up so he can’t exactly be held responsible if it’s stolen. Richie Tozier is an easy client.

“I didn’t even mean to kill him. He had Mike and it was clear that old Bowers was totally batshit. I reacted. I don’t know.”

“So we have a witness. That’s good. The more witnesses the better. I just wish you hadn’t pissed off the Detective.”

“Yeah yeah I’m an asshole but I didn’t say anything about the case. And I stayed away from ass jokes!”

“I’m sure that’s what will save you.”

The Derry police station is not a big place. The holding cell is visible to the front lobby and there’s only two private rooms; the sheriff’s office and an interrogation room. Richie can see Eddie, his arms crossed and his face looking like he bit into a lemon.

Stressed out, Eddie spaghetti? You’re not on this end of the station.

“Be honest with me, Roger, am I going to jail or not?” Richie clings to a rare moment of seriousness.

“You defended someone from an escaped convict. If you sit back and don’t make an ass out of yourself we may not even go to court.”

Richie sighs and he wishes he could telepathically share this news with Eddie. He stares down Eddie in the hopes that somehow they do share a psychic link. Eddie remains pissed at some very specific wall instead.

“And, uh, my friend? Bill?”

“I’m not sure a trial can be avoided on that, but as long as there’s no physical evidence then the best they’ve got is circumstantial with no real motive. They’ll be grasping at straws if they charge him. Dead kids do make for angry parents though and sometimes they’ll pull a guy to trial because they’ve got no one else to blame.”

“So 50/50 chance?”

“40/60 of an arrest being made and I can’t begin to estimate the odds on him being found guilty. That all comes down to the kind of town your Derry, Maine.”

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuck!” Richie groans and buries his face into his free hand.

“Watch it, Tozier,” the nearby cop warns him.

Richie apologizes and feigns composure.

“Sorry kid,” Roger’s using his turn signal given the soft ticking in the background, “I’ll do my best but I make no promises.”

Richie mutters a sentiment of gratitude before hanging up. It would still be the better part of a day and a half before his representation gets here. Technically he’s not even sure if Bill wants Roger to represent him but Richie figures it couldn’t hurt to arrange it. After all, do either of them really want to trust whatever a Derry lawyer looks like?

---

Bill settles in for the night. To be honest, he’s slept in far more uncomfortable places than a holding cell. He wasn’t always a big famous writer. He remembers when he had to sleep in his shitty, used Toyota back in the early days. Now he’s got two houses, a celebrity wife, and a second movie deal. None of which he’s particularly sure he wants anymore.

It’s startling how unconcerned Bill is about the charge against him. He’s been taken in on suspicion of murder but Bill knows damn well he didn’t kill that kid and Detective Lopez doesn’t have much of anything on him except that he was seen yelling at the child earlier at the day and had been spotted at the carnival.

Bill didn’t want to seem entirely unhelpful though despite knowing they were never going to catch what killed that boy. He offered an account of what he thought was an animal attack but it was difficult to make out. Richie’s lawyer probably won’t like that he talked without him present but Bill doesn’t really care.

Bill blamed the yelling on a mental breakdown. His hometown memories were complicated and a failing marriage and work pressure wasn’t helping. When he saw a kid about Georgie’s age living in his old house, he lost it. It was easy to sell this because it wasn’t really a lie. Detective Lopez did make a comment to Bill about how childhood trauma seems very convenient in this town but Bill didn’t know how to respond outside of confusion.

“All right, everyone,” a tired cop announces into the lobby, “Y’all should get yourselves to bed. Visiting hours are over.”

The other members of the Loser’s Club are essentially draped across each other in the lobby and half asleep already. Ben is in the middle like some sort of handsome centerpiece. He has an arm over Beverly and Mike is leaning on his free shoulder. Meanwhile, Eddie is sitting on the floor at Ben’s feet looking tense and irritated.

They gather themselves up except for Eddie who continues to sit on the floor.

“Eddie, honey,” Beverly says softy, “it’s time to go.”

“Richie and Bill didn’t do anything wrong. I will leave when they do.”

Bill chuckles a bit at this and looks over to Richie on the other side of the holding cell. The look on his face gives him pause because it’s not what he was expecting. Eddie looks genuinely frightened in here. He’s also watching Eddie as if looking at the last boat on a sinking ship; one that’s just too far out of reach. Bill isn’t sure what to make of that.

“They’ll be okay,” Mike assures the sulking man on the floor, “I know these cops. They’re decent.”

Eddie doesn’t respond.

“Sweetie,” Bev is getting a hint of irritation to her voice, “we can come back in the morning.”

“I refuse to get up. This is a protest.”

Bev sighs and looks to Ben.

“We’re going to have to force him.”

“Force him?” Ben asks back incredulously, “Force him how?”

“Ben, he weighs 90 pounds soaking wet, what do you think?”

“Oh Lord,” Mike immediately understands the implication.

Ben thinks about it for a second and it dawns on him the same exact time it dawns on Eddie. Ben is briefly horrified by the idea.

“You wouldn’t” Eddie challenges him.

Ben looks helplessly at Bev who shrugs as if to say that there’s no other way. Eddie recoils as Ben clearly accepts his orders and approaches Eddie with strong arms ready to lift him. His stance is that of someone attempting to capture a wild animal.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t you fucking touch me!” Eddie screams while rapidly kicking his legs to slide away.

Bill again turns to get Richie’s reaction to all this. He’s pleased to see Richie desperately stifling a chuckle. The cop stationed here for the evening seems to be frozen in disbelief as one grown man is trying to catch another and that other fully grown adult man is essentially crab scuttling his way to safety.

On reflex, Eddie sends a hard kick and gets Ben right in the shin. Ben stops his pursuit to cradle it.

“Eddie! What the hell!?” Bev scolds him.

“Now that’s enough!” the cop finally sees fit to reanimate, “I’ve seen some bull shit in my day but I won’t have a brawl in the station! Sort yourself out or I’ll put you in holding! Got it?”

Eddie gets up from the floor.

“Oh no,” Richie says quietly.

Bill’s confused but looks back to the scene playing out before him. Eddie looks apologetic and humbly confronts Ben.

“Sorry, Ben” he says meekly.

“It’s just my shin,” Ben responds, “It’ll bruise but it’s fine.”

“No, I’m sorry about this.”

Eddie uses his whole body to send a punch right into the side of Ben’s scruffy and very shocked face. Eddie’s fist retreats just as quickly as it had departed and he’s shaking out the pain of contact. Ben cups his cheek, obviously not very wounded. The man’s essentially built like a brick house for fuck’s sake. This does get the cop moving though.

Eddie is escorted into the holding cell with Bill and Richie. Richie looks in awe of Eddie either because he was so reckless or stupid Bill can’t figure which. He does have sneaking suspicion however that Eddie’s little stunt has more to do with Richie than with Bill himself.

Eddie is still pouting and sits square on the floor all over again.

“The little guy will be free to go after he cools down, unless you want to press charges,” the cop asks Ben.

“What? No. No… it’s fine.”

Mike quietly exits as quickly as possible. He’s clearly done with the nonsense that just played out. Bev and Ben stay behind a minute as Bev checks his cheek over again. Bill can make out the soft conversation they’re having but just barely. She’s apologizing for her plan, saying she didn’t think Eddie would fight that much.

“No no, it was a good idea,” Ben assures her.

Bill can see the way that comment washes over her. Ben was always full of a certain sincerity and purity that none of the other Losers ever really had. He’s soft and probably the only one of them that didn’t end up with a ridiculous amount of paranoia or cynicism. Bill doubts that Ben is unscathed but it looks like he at least had the good sense not to unleash his unknown trauma on anyone else.

Unlike Bill and his marriage to Audra.

It’s painfully clear to Bill right now just how much Audra looks like Beverly. They’ve got similar frames, similar facial structures and they’re both redheads. Granted, Audra’s red comes from a salon but it suits her as naturally as it does Bev. They could be sister’s.

‘Why can’t you be how I want you to be?’ Bill remembers saying to Audra not long before he took off to Derry. He’s disgusted with the comment now. He’s disgusted with the fact that he kissed Beverly and it meant more to him than his entire marriage. He’s disgusted with himself.

“See you in the morning, boys,” Bev waves to everyone in holding.

She doesn’t give Bill any special treatment. No lingering eye contact or wistful gaze. It’s as if she never had a crush on him at all, as if they’ve never shared anything. Before it always felt as if she was looking to Bill and now she’s looking at Ben.

Despite a sense of heartbreak, Bill takes comfort in that difference.

---

There’s only two beds in the holding cell. One of which is already taken up by Bill who is sound asleep. Eddie is still sitting on the floor and up against the wall. He watches for the cop to doze off. Sure enough, he’s starting to snore in his chair.

Eddie quietly and carefully scootches over to Richie. Richie’s been lying on other cot, entertaining himself with some sort of impromptu, silent puppet show. He breaks from it as he notices Eddie encroaching on his personal bubble.

“Hey,” Eddie whispers.

“Hi…” Richie answers.

Eddie isn’t sure of how to move forward. Originally he had mapped out exactly what to say after the gang’s celebratory dinner. He was going to apologize for kissing Richie, explain again that he had panicked. He would ask that they move forward from this and go back to normal. He wanted to reassure him that he is very alive and not going to die anytime soon too. He wanted to know how much it meant to him that Richie cared so much. He never knew he was that important to anyone.

Eddie did not plan on embracing his inner chaos and landing himself in a cell for the night. He still isn’t entirely sure what came over him in that moment. The idea of leaving just hit so hard and quickly that he couldn’t do it.

“I went to jail for you,” he glares at Richie.

Well that’s not a good start, Eddie mentally notes.

“I see this. I’ll file it under your list of uncharacteristically brave fuckery.”

“I mean that I want to talk. We need to talk.”

“Oh.”

There’s a pause between them. That pause grows into a prolonged period. That period slinks into awkward silence. Eddie is aware since he brought up the conversation that he should actually start it but his head is empty. All he can think about is how the stab wound in his cheek hurts and how flustered Richie looks.

“Look, man,” Richie gives in, “We don’t have to talk. I get it. You panicked. Case closed. Mystery solved. We both deserve a Scooby snack for that epic conclusion.”

Eddie realizes for the first time that Richie is hiding behind his humor. He feels like an idiot for not noticing sooner but his eyes are a dead give away. Richie is making more eye contact now than usual. It’s like he’s forcing himself to present a put together facade. He’s watching Eddie to make sure he believes it.

Eddie wonders if it might be prudent to look at Richie in a different light. In childhood, he was always just that asshole friend. He liked to pick on him but never past annoyance. You’d think trying to steer clear of Henry Bowers would have made Eddie resistant to a friendship built on teasing. In retrospect, Eddie’s not sure what did open him up to it. By all logical accounts, Richie shouldn’t mean much of anything to Eddie and vice versa.

“Why do you do that?” he decides to approach it directly.

“I’m a comedian, Eds. Cracking a bad joke is as natural to me as breaking wind.”

Eddie could easily feed into this but he doesn’t want to. He physically sits up straighter and takes a calm breath in. It’s tempting to write Richie off as immature and continue down the rabbit hole of humor at Eddie’s expense but he refuses. Richie is keeping a secret of some kind which seems painfully obvious to Eddie now. If he’s ever going to move forward from recent events he’ll need to know what it is.

“What are hiding?” he leans in close.

Richie’s face loses all color. He stammers for a moment and Eddie is secretly pleased with himself. He’s so used to Richie getting at him that it is deeply satisfying for the tables to turn. Eddie tries not to stay in that mentality though. He wants answers not revenge.

“Bill’s the one with the stutter,” Eddie points out, “fess up. You’re hiding something from me and you’re using your crap jokes to do it. I won’t go to sleep until you tell me what’s going on.”

It seems a little overkill but Eddie is feeling the dramatics today. They saved each other’s lives earlier. They should be able to talk. Eddie debates their closeness as he waits for an answer. Sometimes it felt like they were the closest two people in the room and other times they were the furthest. Eddie wants to know why.

“I- uh,” Richie is sweating at the forehead, “I want to say first that- shit no. Okay, growing up I- fuck no that’s going to take forever.”

Eddie continues to glare down his friend. It’s not that he wants to force the truth out of him but rather his concern is growing. Showing Richie his soft side doesn’t come naturally though. So here he is trying to be a good friend but acting like a displeased asshole.

“Okay, here goes,” Richie takes in a breath of confidence, “Dinner.”

“...dinner?”

“Yes.”

“What about… dinner?” Eddie says bewildered before getting accusatory, “I swear to God, Rich, if this is a set up to a mom joke I’ll-“

“Dinner!” Richie says again a bit too loud.

The guard stirs. The two men freeze. A few seconds later a loud snore emerges. Eddie sighs in relief. He’s done just enough to end up in here. He doesn’t want to get in enough trouble to stay.

“You and me. Dinner. Us. Dinner. Together. Y’know, dinner?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and relaxes his shoulders. So it’s not a joke about his mom but a joke nonetheless.

“Oh. I get it. Ha ha, very funny. Like a date,” Eddie comments sarcastically.

“Yes.”

Richie isn’t grinning. He not casually avoiding eye contact either as he does with a usual set up. Instead he’s looking directly at Eddie with everything he’s got. It’s the ‘please believe me’ look from before but in an entirely different context. It’s sincere.

Jesus Christ, I think he fucking means it, Eddie panics.

“Okay,” he finds himself saying even as confused internal screaming fills his insides.

“Shit. Really?” Richie is as shocked as Eddie is.

“Yeah.”

“You’re going on a date.”

“Yes.”

“With me.”

“I guess.”

This is all on the premise that Richie is released in time for a date. He may end up in real jail. Then what would they do? A prison dinner date doesn’t have the most enticing ring to it.

Eddie feels like a part of him has detached from his own brain. Whatever his body is doing is past his control now. The surrealism of this unexpected direction broke him.

“Move over,” Eddie demands quietly.

Richie backs up as far as can, looking absolutely befuddled. Eddie climbs into the small space left on the cot. He’s tired. There’s only two cots and one is taken. It makes direct sense to share at least when you’re not entirely in your own body anyway.

Eddie remembers briefly about how the two of them would often share the hammock as kids. Eddie unceremoniously plopped himself in and fought for space so often that it became customary. He never did it to anyone but Richie though. He was the only one.

Richie braves putting an arm around Eddie and at first Eddie’s spine goes rigid. He’s not ready to think about this, not even sure if acting on it is right yet. He still feels far away from all this even as he Richie’s body heat cradles him.

Something about the way Richie’s hand cups the small of his stomach feels...good. Eddie’s body relaxes and he realizes how fucking exhausted he is. It’s been an exceptionally long 48 hours. A little shut eye and a cuddle isn’t so ludicrous. Even if it is with Richie Trashmouth Tozier.

“Just keep it in your pants,” Eddie yawns before falling asleep.

#it chapter 3 ff #ich3-2 #i really wanted to mimick the scene where richie sets eddie's arm in chapter 1 #like I love that chaotic energy #billverly #light #reddie #benverley

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