#bc That Group is so draining and horrible and we literally just fucked off half an hour too early and nobody noticed (or cared) so like
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bad news: today might actually be the worst day of my life, no hyperbole
good news: i no longer want to tear out my hair and scratch off my skin and curl up in a ball and cry
#that is good news bc the entire day i have felt like that so this development is a relief#just like. fucking everything was today that could possibly go wrong#and my usual fool-proof escape mechanisms (escaping into a story/daydream) failed me#and i havent been able to write anything since yesterday which hasnt happened in over a year and feels like a part of me died#(yes that is dramatic but its also true rip its no longer a hobby but an obsession/addiction)#AND i forgot my bracelets which fucked so thoroughly with my sensory/brain that i spent the day scratching/biting at my wrist so it wouldnt#feel so Empty™. its been hours you can still see red little flecks lmao#BUT as i said its gettint better#im wearing my bracelets now and i cancelled climbing training#and my friend and i are probably just gonna train on our own on tuesdays and ditch the group on mondays#bc That Group is so draining and horrible and we literally just fucked off half an hour too early and nobody noticed (or cared) so like#yeah i already feel better abt it. its gonna be alright :))#a biscuit's rambles#i mean its not reall alright yet but its not bad anymore and i can deal#also: this post in: tumblr is my journal/therapy/mental health outlet#lmao
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i do feel like svhool is kinda just. pushing too hard rn. we get 3 days for winter break this year, excluding the weekend (so 5 total). (kinda sucky too bc we get christmas off but the chanukah and kwanzaa kids are sol) and just like. idk. theres just rampant sexism ableism queerphobia racism etc. and there s just something so draining about going to school with ppl who literally think you should not exist and you have to just ignore them and act like everything is normal. and its so surreal and fucky. and. idk maybe its just me but it seems way worse this year? like maybe its specific ppl in my classes are worse than last year or im just noticing it mor e or sth but it genuinely feels like im watching all these kids fall down the alt-right rabbit hole in real time and it is so. fucking. disturbing. and if you say anything youre the bad guy. some teachers will be constantly sexist and misgender the trans students and you cant even say anything and youre just sitting there thinking if i do come out before college school is going to be even more of a fucking cesspit of pain than it already is. and who knows if i can go to prom w my friend this year because some years juniors can go some they cant and it seems completely fucking random which it is because god forbid the idiots in charge actually make one fucking decision more than a day in advance ever. and theres all this stress and the school is completely fucking disorganized they cant seem to get the bells within 5 minutes for when theyre supposed to ring and they use random noises (not an exaggeration. there are 3 different bell sounds and they swap around which ones they play which period seemingly at random) and they have about half of us locked out of schooltool, some even their school email, because of a “system error” thats been going on for almost TWO YEARS now and the current bell “”””schedule”””” we use is literally a different one from when we started the year bc they changed it randomly 3 days into the year literally did not even warn the teachers and everyones always on their phones in class watching tiktok fucking OUT LOUD and all the teachers are obsessed w group work because then they can pawn the idiots off on the “smart kids” instead of doing their actual job and i have daily homework to do and NOBODY FOLLOWS MY 504 like LITERALLY NOBODY and i dont understand how not a single person notices how weirdly horrible everything is?
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idk if your requests are open but if they’re not then feel free to ignore this. 😅 id like to request an imagine with dazai having a long, deep conversation with his new co-worker who happens to be a former member of the port mafia but she left for obvious reasons and only fukuzawa knows for now but ofc dazai being dazai, he’s sharp af so he decided to talk to her bc one, he understands her and second he developed feelings for her shortly after she joined ada. thanks in advance! 🥰
➽─{done! they were actually closed, but this was such a fun request i made it 2k long (✿´ ꒳ ` )}─❥
You often wonder if it was something you said.
Ever since you joined the Armed Detective Agency, all of your new coworkers have been nothing short of friendly and accommodating. All of them––except for the bandaged mystery who can’t quite take his eyes off of you.
At first you thought it was just your imagination. When he answered your questions dismissively, you thought maybe he didn’t have a way with words. When he bailed on group trips to Café Uzumaki––but only when you were going too––you brushed it off as a coincidence. And when you first ‘caught’ him fixated on you, looking you square in the face from his own desk, you hoped he was actually looking at something above your head or next to you.
After all, in the Port Mafia, you always felt as if you were being watched, precisely because you were being watched. Your every move was silently documented, your behavior acutely observed within a larger culture of distrust and suspicion. You wondered if maybe you carried that instinctive unease with you to your new day job. (The only proper day job you’ve ever held.)
But there was no need for deft maneuvers to realize that this intimidating brunette was, indeed, staring you down in silence. He has no intention of hiding it; he’s openly tracking your movements, peering into your essence. And the most unnerving part of all: he’s smirking half of the time. If you didn’t know any better, you would confront him the first chance you got; but your situation is precarious, delicate. You have no business drawing attention to yourself, a former member of the Port Mafia. Sure, the President is already aware of your circumstances, but the Mafia has engrained the virtues of secrecy into you. You hope to keep your past on the down low.
Besides, there’s something off about this brown-haired detective. Something you realized at the beginning of your employment, way before he started staring into your soul. Something you hope you’re wrong about.
So you wait it out, anxiously. Drained by the presence of your colleagues, you find yourself in Café Uzumaki alone one slow-moving afternoon. The paperwork was piling up, the tension in the air almost tangible as Dazai declined yet another offer to do actual field-work with the others in favor of keeping tabs on you (unbeknownst to anyone else). You’d left the office at your earliest convenience, hoping to relax in the corner with your favorite beverage.
It is all you can do to keep from spewing the profane as he invites himself to your table, waltzing in without a care in the world.
You’re trapped.
Ordering himself a double shot espresso, your coworker ignores your apparent apprehension as he gets comfy in his booth seat. Downing his drink while you’ve barely touched yours, he glances behind him to check out the waitstaff. No words are exchanged until the baristas are out of earshot.
“Well, you certainly seem to have a vested interest in me,” you say in the most nonchalant manner manageable––nervous because of his constant surveillance, but also because he’s quite handsome for a borderline stalker.
“You can drop the tight-lipped smile,” Dazai replies, eyes darkened.
You lower your voice, hackles raised. “How much do you know?”
“I suppose it’s all speculation, but my hunches are rarely wrong. You chose to work at a detective agency after all.” Though he’s avoided your question, the look on his face tells you everything you need to know. Eyes narrowed, the corners of his mouth upturned, he most definitely has your former occupation pegged.
“What gave it away?” is the only thing you can think to say.
“Are you sure you want to know?”
“Perhaps it will aid me in playing detective,” you quip. He chuckles dryly.
“Oh, where to start. That concealed weapon you carry––it’s not issued by the Agency. Though its outline is comparable to our standard Beretta 92FS Inox sidearm, there are some subtle differences, even when it’s tucked away and wrapped in cloth.” You raise your eyebrows, surprised that anyone would notice.
“The way you move soundlessly and seamlessly,” he continues, not bothering to pause. “It’s obviously second nature. You hardly make a sound if you can help it. And then there’s your understanding of the underworld, even though you try to hide it. You obviously know much more than you let on; your knowledge is too convenient. You claim to know just the perfect tidbit or two for a case, having overheard a street vendor or a barkeep, but the expression on your face is all too telling of a certain sense of pride. Such a seemingly mild-mannered sweetheart as yourself. Did you know that when you flinch at violence, you always react a hair slower than everyone else, as if you’re simply following suit? Also––”
“Okay, OK, I get it,” you say, defeated. “So that’s the reason why you’re leering at me every day? To add to this never-ending list of yours?”
“Well...” Dazai’s voice trails off. His features relax for the briefest moment, more alarming than reassuring to you. And then that nagging thought resurfaces. That is, the very first thing that came to mind when you were first introduced to him. Again: something you hope you’re wrong about.
“You’re quite suspicious yourself,” you interject. “Let alone your little stalker habit... you have the same name as him.” The corners of his eyes crease.
“That’s an odd way of putting it,” he says with a hint of mirth in his voice, and not a smidgen of denial. Fuck.
Logic dictates that you should be scared shitless right now, sitting across from one of the most dangerous men in Mafia history. Logic dictates that you should’ve used more covert methods of uncovering his past. Straightening up, you tell yourself not to think about it.
“Well, I was under the impression that Dazai Osamu was only a legend and nothing more. I mean, a teenage orphan prodigy who threw their life as a Mafia exec away, only to disappear forever? Sounds like bullshit,” you state with as much cool-headedness as you can muster.
“I take that personally!” he gasps, twisting his arms every which way in mock offense, as if to shield himself from your harsh commentary.
“You didn’t consider changing your name?”
“Not even once.” He winks, to which your heart may or may not skip a beat. Are you scared, or oddly enamored?
You push your cup along your side of the table. “How come you turned tail too? You had the status to do literally anything you wanted.” He brushes it off.
“What is this, my interview? The last time I checked, you were the one on trial,” he says, waving his hand like he’s batting your assertion out of the air.
“I’m on trial?” you ask, the cup coming to a stop. “Do the others have suspicions as well?”
“Oh no, nothing in particular to go on. Though Ranpo most definitely has you figured out,” he says, to which you startle. “...but he couldn’t care less, so don’t worry.” You unintentionally sigh relief as he continues: “My colleagues have this peculiar way of testing their new recruits. We call it an ‘entrance exam.’ And before you ask, I’m not responsible for administering yours, but I might be able to push you in the right direction.”
“Any hints?”
He shakes his head, “Not really. No general tips or tricks. I need some more information,” he says, leaning in a bit. “So tell me about yourself. Why leave the Mafia for the ADA?”
You press your lips together, realizing he’s asking you the very same question he himself dodged moments ago. “I needed a change of atmosphere. And scenery. I wasn’t quite taken up with the constant death threats and daily bloodshed.”
“Oh, death threats? And bloodshed? I don’t suppose you were on the receiving end?” Dazai asks, one eyebrow cocked.
You laugh a restrained laugh, nodding. “I wasn’t. But those kinds of tactics... they aren’t in my nature. Everything about that job was suffocating, and I just couldn’t do it anymore.” Dazai looks at you thoughtfully.
“It’s interesting, though. You carry your past line of work in all of your mannerisms. Any chance you were born into it?”
You nod again, “Not my choice.”
“What a coincidence.” He flashes a toothy smile, silence thickening the air. You scramble to break it, eager to talk about something else.
“...So? Any advice for my test?”
“I’d be a little more forthcoming if only you’d tell me the full truth,” Dazai responds, and your face falls.
“What do you mean?” Your strained voice comes out meeker than you’d like, and it’s Dazai’s turn to sigh. He leans back into his booth seat, as if a little distance might solve your unease.
“I lost someone. The best friend I’ve ever had. He told me I wouldn’t find what I was looking for in the Mafia, so here I am. And I’m pretty sure you have someone like that too.” How does he know? Why is he telling you this? Your hands––they’re clammy. You turn your gaze to your lap, realizing that he’d dismantle anything but the truth. There are no options but one.
“It was... a family member.” More silence. Is your nose getting red? You hope your nose isn’t getting red.
“The Mafia threatened them?” he prods.
“They were collateral,” you say slowly. You hadn’t expected to talk about them today. You hadn’t expected any of this from a coworker who kept you at several arms’ lengths for days. Another coworker might respond “that’s horrible,” or “I’m sorry for your loss,” but not Dazai.
“Dazai, do you ever wonder if it’s our fault they got hurt?”
“No,” he replies immediately. Then he hesitates. “I mean, yes, and for a very long time, but not anymore. Evil will do evil; if not to our loved ones, then to someone else.”
He’s right. Of course he’s right.
“But does it make it any easier?” You peer at him, hopeful, and he dismisses your expectations with a quick shake of the head. “Right.” Pause.
“But you’ve come to the right place. Unlike the Mafia, this is an environment where you can heal. Sometimes the wounds reopen,” he says, “but I promise you that your feelings will go towards something productive.” You swallow, blinking back would-be teardrops. The salty marinade seeps back into you.
Then, under your breath: “Okay.” “Thank you.”
“Of course. I could talk about this all day.” The tightness in your throat dissipates, the water in your eyes no longer threatening to spill.
“So, the entrance exam? I’ve told you everything now,” you pry. He thrums his fingers, amused.
“Oh, that won’t be necessary. I figured pretty early on that you would be okay. You’re gonna pass just fine without my help––I only wanted to get to know my new coworker better.” His fingers stop as he gauges your response.
“Wha–?” This guy! He played you, straight to the verge of tears..! Shoulder tense, you jump to your feet.
“Sorry to deceive you. I’ll see you upstairs, then.” Jeez, the bandaged bastard’s already heading out!
“Wait!” Cheeks flushed, you’re unsure why you’re calling out to him, but it makes him stops in his tracks.
“...Yes?”
“...You’re not gonna tell anyone, right?”
“I’ll think about it.” Dazai’s coy voice is all but reassuring.
“No, seriously,” you plead, eyes wide. “I really need this. God forbid someone else prompts a retelling of my life story.” He turns to face you.
“Then let’s make a deal.”
“What kind of deal?”
He steps towards you, leaning in to whisper in your ear: “Meet me in front of this building tomorrow at 10 PM. There’s a restaurant I want to take you.” You feel your mouth open, then close by itself.
This is it. This is why he can’t look away from you. If he was only observing you, he could, would do it without being so obvious. You’re sure of it now. You replay each once-menacing occurrence of eye contact from the past few days in your head, and you notice something new. Hunger? Want? Even greed? You can see it in his eyes right now. Those eyes, they threaten to dance around, maybe even travel a bit... lower.
(You jest yourself. ‘Once-menacing?’ He’s still menace, still a danger.) He turns away, heading for the door again, not waiting for a response:
“Don’t be late.”
A chill runs up your spine. It’s a mix of fear, and bitterness, and panic, but most of all...
A growing anticipation.
#Dazai Osamu#bsd fanfic#bsd fic#dazai fic#dazai imagine#bsd x reader#bsd oneshot#dazai oneshot#armed detective agency#dazai fanfiction
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i am incredibly sad that i only have like, 1 extra adderall left (i may have to find somewhere to buy more from, since i only get like, enough for the month with my prescription, the only reason i had extras this month is bc it took a week for me to be able to get my prescription filled, so i literally had to go a week w/o adderall and i don’t wanna do that again, ever, it was hell, esp bc i ran out of sudafed, too, that week) bc holy fucking shit am i awake. i’m getting so much done. i took a shower and then highlighted all of the units in my script, which is usually hard to focus on bc it’s so dull, and i got another 15 units done, so i’ve only got like 30 left and i’m still wide awake and focused AF. like, i’m p sure that colors have smells, but also, like, the world is so intense and amazing. i feel fucking fantastic. i kinda wanna go skydiving, but like, not until i get my hw done, ya know?
but i’ve got 30 more units to do, then i’ve gotta make a graph, but after that, i’m done with the project and can move on. depending on how i feel/what time it is when i get that done (bc if it’s past 3:30/4a, i can’t sleep, i’ve got to stay up bc if not, i won’t wake up in time for class, but also, if i still feel this awake, then there’s rly no point to sleeping bc i won’t be able to, anyway) i might sleep, or i might start working on my playwriting assignment (bc that’s due mon @ 2p and i’ve got to write 6 1-min monologues for my characters) and watch the first 30min of shrek: the musical (bc i gotta have that done by fri @ 9a bc we’re watching it in class and that’s where we’re picking up at since the audio wouldn’t work in class, so it’s hw to watch the first 30 of it, but we can watch all of it, if we want, idk if i will, i’ve got too much to do and if i watch all of it, then there’ll be no point of going to class bc i hate rewatching things bc i’ve got a damn near eidetic memory for movies/books and certain other things, depending on how much i’m paying attention, but almost always books/movies unless i find them boring and don’t care abt them, so it would be stupid to watch all of it and then be bored in class), then maybe read some of after the fall (the script i’m pulling my monologue from for acting i) and do the assignment that goes with that (bc it’s due tues @ 9:30a). after that i should do my therapy hw (we’re still working on stuck points and i’ve got like, 5 more sheets, maybe more, to fill out) bc that’ll be due at my next counselling appt, which i think is next week, i’ll have to call them, but it’ll take abt an hour and it’ll emotionally drain me.
i think that’s abt it for hw, tho, but all of that’ll take roughly 9 hours, which means i def won’t be able to do it all tonight, but i can get most of it done if i don’t sleep, which means i’ll have more time for sleep/writing/literally everything else on the weekend. i might even be lucky enough to be able to get drunk. maybe. i’d have to start drinking at like, 3p and stop at like, 6p for it to all be out of my system so i can get to bed by 2/3a. so that’s a maybe. but a nice maybe.
ofc, i’ve got non hw stuff to do, too. i’ve got to make a list of roommate requirements so i can start looking for a new one (i’ve also got to talk to goldilocks to see when she plans to move out, bc like hell am i moving out, all the bills except her half of the lease are in my name and most of the furniture (aside from her personal stuff and the coffee table) is mine and i don’t want to have to move ALL of it out and into a new place, plus it’s her decision to not be roommates, so it’s on her, not me, and i won’t budge, not this time). then i’ve got to get my study/organization binder made so things’ll be easier to keep track of. i’ve got to do some cleaning (taking out the trash, cleaning up my side of the living room (we didn’t divide it, it’s just where the couches are so we stick to our couches most of the time) and the coffee table). then laundry, gotta do laundry, i’m almost out of socks.
ofc, i might have to start on my part of the second part of the group project. i wanna design costumes for the play, if neither of the others is doing that, which i hope they aren’t, bc i don’t know enough abt any of the other elements of production to do something else. but if i have to, i can try to do sound, maybe, that’s my second choice. so, i may have to start on that this weekend. i’ll talk to hurricane bianca and tim the toolman taylor and see what they’re doing for it probs on fri if not tomorrow at rehearsal. then i can start on my part and get it finished ahead of time to prove i’m capable, when i’ve got my shit together and am not having a breakdown every week. then, after i talk to prof j abt what i’m supposed to do for the show (something with finding times for freeze frames and spotlights, which is fun, but i’m worried my comdic timing isn’t the same as everyone else’s bc i’m autistic, so my sense of humor is a bit skewed, ya know? but anyway, prof j specifically told goldilocks (who is stage manager, i’m one of two assistant stage managers) to have me do it, so i’m afraid i’m being set up to fail bc i know nothing abt theatre, rly, and i’m always paranoid abt these things, but i’m also kinda thinking it might be bc she actually thinks i can do it, which sounds unrealistic, but she’s not a mean person, so i’m willing to bet it’s that one. but i need to ask her what all she needs me to do, bc goldilocks has no clue, which was so fucking helpful, what a great stage manager she is (no, srsly, idk if i bitched abt this earlier or not, but she’s absolutely horrible at this shit so far and i can’t stand working under her bc i hate working under incompetent ppl bc i feel it makes me look incompetent, too, if the job isn’t done right, even if it’s not my fault bc i wasn’t in charge and i’m always, always terrified to look stupid or incapable in the eyes of others). so, i’ve got to ask prof j abt what all i need to do bc i’m p sure the advice given to me by the lighting tech (who is apparently a decent stage manager, tho i doubt it, truly, she doesn’t have the personality for it, she’s too pushy and it makes her hard to work with, but that might just be bc i don’t like her as a person, so i’m reserving judgement until i see her in the position) is wrong bc it makes no sense, is way too hard, doesn’t actually help with anything and gives me a headache (bc mapping out the goddamn blocking is impossible when the actors do diff things every fucking night, wtf??? do the same shit, you assholes! but it’s also useless bc it doesn’t tell anyone where the spotlights/freeze frames should be, and blocking isn’t my job, it’s the other asm’s (who i don’t have a nickname for, but will probs have before the end of rehearsal) so why she’s not doing it, idk???) so i’ll ask tomorrow.
so, i’m looking at 9 hours hw now, then 30 min of cleaning, 3 hours of other paperwork shit, and potentially 4 hours of hw and 2 hours of theatre stuff this weekend. which means i can get at least 10 hours of sleep per night and get some writing done, if i finish most of my hw now. i think that’s worth one sleepless night. it rly is. so, here’s to hoping for at least one day off this week.
but if i don’t sleep, i’ll probs crash after rehearsal tomorrow night, unless i can convince my friends to come over and hang out, since they won’t be here this weekend and i kinda need their help making the roommate requirement list bc otherwise it’s just gonna be like ‘can’t leave time on the microwave after they’re done using it’ and ‘must know how to use headphones when others are studying in the living room’ and ‘must not whine when i want to stay in my room and do work instead of being around them 24/7′ (tho, goldilocks doesn’t spend much time with me anymore, which is fine, i guess, but it’s a complete 180 from what she used to do and honestly, i’m offended bc i caved and started staying in the living room and now it just feels weird not being in the living room and idk what to do abt any of this). i need real things, too, like, big concerns that i’ll forget abt when writing it, and i need to know if my requirements are petty or things that aren’t specific to most ppl, just goldilocks. and it’d be nice to hang out with them and shit.
anyway, this is rly long and rambly, but i rly need to vent all of this shit somewhere, it helps me sort my brain out. i don’t actually expect anyone to read it and you can always blacklist my personal tag ‘iz says stuff’ if you don’t want this shit on your dash. but if you do read them, then you’re always welcome to come to my inbox and be like ‘quit bitching and get back to work, dumbass’ or something.
#text#long post#iz says stuff#i'm gonna get back to work now#after i make a to do list (on paper not on tumblr)#so i can keep track of what i need to do#and then i'm gonna update my planner with what i need to do tomorrow#but then it's back to the units#after i take some fucking ibuprofen for my migraine (idk where my migraine meds are but i might be able to find them tonight)#bc it's coming back with a vengence#i think they're from not sleeping and from stress#i used to get them all the time#some of them were so bad i had to go to the emergency room#i hope they don't get that bad again#it would rly fucking suck bc i don't have a car/can't drive with a migraine anyway and i don't have the money for the emergency room#i think i'll talk to my dr abt it tomorrow#if i can remember to
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ok but stozier where (this is overuse prob so sorry) rich starts really believing stan doesnt like him in their late teens bc of anxiety and stuff and starts to distance and heyoo flippin the script w/ stan coming in through the window like “wtf man??? ur literally my best friend ily” and then like back to stans and its just pure fluff bc heyo these boys mad in love and richies just like “holy shit ily wowowowoow” yike sorry ~✨
I’m so sorry for taking so long!! This is not exactly what you asked for, but I still hope you’ll like it! Here we go!
It’s on AO3
when stan starts avoiding richie after they went to prom together as bros, richie knows he’s fucked up
he doesn`t know how he fucked up, tho, because he was drunk as hell and he barely remembers what happened
when stan starts avoiding richie after they go to prom together as bros, richie knows he’s fucked up
he doesn’t know how he fucked up, tho, because he was drunk as hell and he barely remembers what happened
the losers can’t tell him what he did because “stan didn’t let you do anything embarrassing, he took you home the moment he realized you were drunk”
richie makes eddie pinky swear that he didn’t see him make a fool of himself at prom
Relieved by his answer, richie starts thinking that maybe stan’s just messing with him Maybe it’s just a joke and he decides to play along
“well let’s see how long he can pretend not to love me lol he won’t last a week”
stan lasts more than a week not talking to richie, barely acknowledging him in the group hangs
richie is low key worried and grows louder so he can draw stan’s attention by any means necessary, which means cruder jokes, over the top impressions, dirty flirting, but stan keeps ignoring him
richie goes from frustrated to angry really fast
and he complains about Stan to everyone, literally everyone but Stan The Man himself
“we don’t know anything richie, why don’t you talk to him?”
richie tries cornering stan after school one day, but stan keeps dodging his questions and answering with “I’m fine”s, which only pisses richie even more because he knows stan isn’t fine
“come on stanley I know you’re angry at me! what did i do?”
“why do you think the world revolves around you, richie? you didn’t do anything and we’re fine.”
“we’re not fine! God, stan, just tell me what I did so I can fix it! Was it because I drank too much and you had to take me home? Was it because I made you leave the prom earlier?”
“what? no richie, that was fine and… Wait, don’t you remember what happened later?” stan takes a deep breath and tries to mask the hurt on his voice. “You don’t.”
“I was drunk… I…”
“Sure, it’s okay, we’re okay, nothing happened, I just have to go.”
richie tries to stop him by grabbing his arm, but stan flinches away so fast richie’s freezes on the spot. Now he’s high key worried
now he knows he’s fucked up.
——————
richie kinda starts avoiding stan back after this, afraid he’ll make things worse between them
he never asks the losers to intervene, but everytime he meets them, he asks if stan said anything about him
the losers have no idea what’s happening, and they hate it, so they make a plan to get both richie and stan drunk and talking
it’s very difficult getting them together, and moving past the awkwardness, but they do get them drunk, they all get drunk, one night at bill’s. and they’re playing truth or dare
when the bottle stops on stan, richie perks up at the possibility of stan picking truth so he can ask what did he do to make his best friend so mad at him
stan picks dare
for a moment richie’s devastated, but then ben whispers something in his ear and he takes his suggestion.
“I dare you to tell me why you’re mad at me.”
“that’s cheating.”
“It’s the game, you have to tell me.”
“I’m not mad at you.”
“you are! just fucking tell me what i did!
“what didn’t you do, richie?” stan rolls his eyes. “you’re always so…” The alcohol is taking the words from him, so he just gestures at richie’s entire body, to make him understand. “You! It drives me crazy!”
richie’s taken aback. He knows he’s loud and annoying, but he never thought he bothered stan so much “I’m… I’m sorry,”
when they stop talking, the entire room does too. The only sound is when mike gets up, pulling bill along with him and gesturing the others to follow him. “Maybe we should leave you two alone.”
“no!” both stan and richie argue at the same time.
richie takes a deep breath. “come on, stan the man, I just wanna put this behind us and go back to being friends.”
“Friends.” Stan scoffs, and there’s so much venom in his voice, richie unconsciously recoils. “we’re best fucking friends”
richie doesn’t know what to answer, oh even what to feel, so he choses anger. “Fine! Have it your way then” and marches out of the party.
when richie’s anger drains away, he’s just really sad and hurt
the losers go to him the next day, begging him to talk to stan, saying that stan was miserable after he left the party, so “he doesn’t hate you.”
but richie just shrugs them off. stan does hate him. it was clear as day
but what could he have done that would upset stan so much? What was so terrible that ruined their friendship?
he tries his best to remember what happened after stan took him from the prom. He thinks about numerous possibilities, but nothing seems plausible
richie knows very well that he’s a cuddly, needy drunk. But Stan knows him, he’s used to the flirty jokes, the innocent (but not really) touches, and hugs
He remembers he always used to call stan “love” and “honey” after a few shots, he remembers sitting on stan’s lap and throwing his arms around stan’s neck in other occasions, he remembers stan just shaking his head, lifting him up and making him drink some water before bed. Stan always acted annoyed but he never minded any of that
Not until prom night
Maybe richie crossed a line. Maybe he didn’t stop at the playful flirting and dirty innuendos. Maybe he drank so much, he turned his brain off, and let his heart unfiltered. Maybe he confessed. Maybe he told stan he’d been in love with him for years. Maybe he kissed stan
Oh fuck. oh no no no no nonononono
no wonder stan hates him now. no wonder he’s angry and disgusted and never wants to see richie again
richie wants to crawl up inside a hole and just die
—————-
richie knows stan has stopped hanging out with the others, so he does too
he secretly hopes that his absence will compel stan to return to the group
if anyone gets to keep the losers, if anyone deserves to keep the losers, it’s stan
plus, if stan finds his presence so unbearable, and hates him now, it’s just a matter of time before everyone else does too. If he can’t stop it from happening, then he better prepare himself for it
so he goes from school to home, and from home to school as quickly as he can, he avoids the quarry and the arcade so he won’t meet any of them
He misses them all, though. So much
But mostly he misses Stan
His best friend
the first friend he ever made
the boy with the sarcastic smiles and amazing sense of humour
the boy who always stood by him no matter what
the boy who’d always leave an open window for him to climb into at night
the boy who’d complain about how his bed was too small for them, but would never push richie away, or make him sleep on the couch
the shy quiet beautiful perfect boy richie admired and respected so much
the boy who’d smile at him, and make the stupid bucky beaver and his stupid trash mouth feel worthy and loved and worthy of being loved.
the boy he loved so much
the boy who didn’t love him back, not anymore
not ever
richie wonders if maybe stan misses him too, but the thought is so fucking unreal, he has to laugh.
all the handholding, the laughs, hugs, kisses on the cheek, richie ruined them
richie ruined their friendship
so why would it matter to stan
why would richie matter
spoiler alert: he doesn’t
richie’s loud and annoying and ugly as hell
stan deserves someone better
literally anyone would be better
probably a girl because stan can’t be as sick as he is
——————
the losers keep trying to talk to him, but he always manages to dodge their questions
Everyone is worried because richie looks awful ™ so they decide to do a intervention for them
but richie doesn’t show up to school the next day
Or the next
they’re going crazy with worry, because richie won’t answer his door either
stan is very worried too.
he feels terrible for how he treated richie the past few weeks. He was just sad, angry and bitter, but richie didn’t deserve the way he treated him
he tries calling richie on the phone, but every call goes to voicemail
stan knows it’s his fault. He was the one who started ignoring richie first, but he’s so worried
He’s on edge all the time, can’t sleep properly, can’t eat properly, god, he’s a mess
He almost trips over himself when his own phone rings. Please be richie, he prays
It’s not richie
——————
bev is the one who gets richie to leave the house. she takes him for a smoke by the barrens
she told him it would just be the two of them
she lied
three cigarettes in, Stan arrives, and Bev excuses herself, mentally asking richie if he’ll forgive her someday
Stan quietly sits down next to richie, who refuses to look at him
They stay like this for a good half an hour. Stan looking at richie, richie looking anywhere but at stan
stan is about to cry, but he swallows the tears. This isn’t about him! This is about his best friend, who’s looking small and broken, and he has to fix it. He has to fix them
“I’m sorry.” He opens his mouth, but the words aren’t his. They are richie’s.
Richie’s apologizing to him
“fuck, stan, I think I finally know what I did to make you hate me, and, god, I’m so sorry.”
stan is speechless, terrified at the thought that maybe richie does remember that night
“I was never going to tell you, I was going to ignore it until it went away, but it’s been years, and it still hadn’t gone away, and I… I’m a horrible person… not worthy of being your friend
stan is offended. “Richie…”
“no… let me finish. I know what I did is unforgivable, and heinous and sick. And I’m so very sorry, but I can’t fix this. So it’s okay if you hate me and never want to see me again.I understand”
“richie!” Stan grabs his shoulders and shakes him a little.”What is it you think you did at prom?”
“you don’t have to do this.” richie shakes his head. “I know I… I kissed you. Didn’t I?.”
Now Stan starts crying. “No. no you didn’t.”
richie’s eyes go so wide it would be comical in any other situation
“Fuck. then you’re just mad at me for a stupid joke, or whatever and I went and spilled my feelings for you, instead of just apologizing. Now you hate me for real, and…”
“I don’t hate you, I never did and I never will.” Stan cuts him off.
richie nods dumbly, not letting himself feel relief because the fact stan doesn’t hate him does not necessarily means that stan likes him back.
“Do you wanna know what you did that made me so mad?” Stan waits for richie’s nod before continuing. If richie said what stan thinks he said, telling him about this should be easy. “You fell asleep.” It’s not
silence
richie does his best not to break it because he knows stan’s not finished
“I took you home, and tried to get you to bed. You didn’t want to. You wanted to dance.” Stan smiles at the memory. “I asked what could i possibly do to convince you to go to sleep and you asked me to cuddle you.”
richie cringes. well that was embarrassing
but it’s not the end of the story
“so I did. we laid down at your bed, and we were so close, I…” Now it’s stan’s turn to take a deep breath. “I kissed you, Richie. I kissed you, you kissed me back, but then you fell asleep mid kiss and I…”
richie’s heart stops, and he finally looks directly into stan’s eyes
“I was so ashamed, I couldn’t face you after this.” now it’s stan who diverts his eyes. “And then you told me you didn’t remember and I was so hurt, so angry. I mean, I knew you were drunk, I took a chance, but I still… God, richie, you were my first kiss.”
“stan.” richie kneels, and moves next to his friend, his best friend, the boy who, for whatever reason, loves him back, and takes his face on his hands. “stan, I’m sorry I’m so stupid.”
“It’s okay, richie.” Stan tries. “You were drunk, and I shouldn’t have taken advantage of that, then felt sorry for myself and acted like a jerk, but…” Stan’s hands are shaking. “I like you more than I thought I could ever like someone, and it scared me so much, I withdrew from everyone. I avoided you like crazy because I couldn’t let you know, I couldn’t let you reject me.”
“stan.” richie calls for him again, and their eyes meet. “stan, I’m stupid, but you’re also very stupid, oh my god, we’re so stupid.” he groans. “I like you. You like me back. We like each other.” He says it, slowly, as if trying to understand.
“We do.” Stan breathes, amazed.
They only stare at each other for a moment, holding hands like their lives depend on it.
“I’m sorry.” Stan says.
“I’m sorry too.” Richie says it back.
A pause. Then. “Do I get to redo that first kiss?”
Stan pushes him over, and richie laughs
“we never really danced at prom, did we? I bet you refused to dance with me after prom too.”
“I…” Stan narrows his eyes. “Do you really wanna dance, now?”
“Sure.” richie knows stan didn’t mean it as an invitation, but he takes it anyway. He bows. Stan rolls his eyes, but doesn’t stop richie from inching closer, and closer. “Let’s redo the entire night.”
They dance for a while, no music, no rhythm. They dance until richie steps on stan’s toes, and stan pushes him away so hard richie falls on the grass
They laugh, and laugh, and laugh
(god, they both missed this so much)
“Okay, so I’m never doing that again.” stan says, but he’s smiling. “We’re done, richie.”
“not yet.” richie says, getting back up, and he looks serious
he takes a step closer
stan takes another step to meet him in the middle and his hand goes into richie’s hair
richie’s hands are trembling, but he takes them to stan’s neck
they kiss
they look at each other
they kiss again and again and again
“Don’t you dare fall asleep on me again, asshole.” Stan says, lips brushing against richie’s
“Oh, don’t worry, Stan the Man, I’m up.” He motions down to his pants. “I’ll be up all night…”
“fucking my mom, i know.” stan answers, the same time richie finishes with “fucking you.” and they look at each other, for a second.
“Fuck you, richie.” Stan is trying to look mad, but he can’t stop laughing
“Well… if you want to, sure. I can be into it.” richie doesn’t miss his mark, but before he says anything else, stan’s kissing him again
richie kisses him back
and they kiss, and kiss, and kiss for a long time.
#stozier#stozier fic#sometimes i write#richie tozier#stan uris#mine#they're aged up#another bullet point fic because i'm lazy#i love my boys so much#this got way longer than i expected asjaposkpoa
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