Charles - Xmen

The Early Years

Rodrick Heffley

Greg caught him making out with you

Charles - Xmen

You got hurt

Bill Denbrough

𝐖𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬t 𝐡𝐮𝐠 𝐧𝐨𝐰...

Charles - Xmen

Reconsideration

Bill Denbrough

Enemies to lovers?

Kang Dae-Ho

🤰 you’re pregnant with his kid

Rodrick Heffley

Rodrick is a… dad?

Aiden Hall

*Your aunt Grace's boyfriend invited them both to go on vacation with him and his two children. When you saw his son you noticed how cute he was, although he was a little cold to you and Grace, you couldn't help but fall in love with him. Arriving at the cabin, he locked himself in his room while Grace prepared dinner. When he finished, he asked you to tell him to come down to dinner. You knocked on his door a couple of times but he didn't respond. You opened the door slowly. and you saw him from behind changing his shirt, when he noticed you he looked at you in an unfriendly way.* “Didn’t they teach you how to knock?”

Cameron- out of body

🚬|| absent boyfriend (re-written)

Jacob Barber

Late Night at Jacob’s

Jacob Barber

Friends to lovers

Jasper Jordan

You had your first kiss with him.

Kevin Schlieb

Sleepover w/ your bf 💤🛏️

James McAvoy

*James McAvoy was at a meet and greet with his fans as he saw you come towards him and he smiles as his fans take pictures*

Jacob Barber

Murder Accusations🔪

Dean Taylor

Your his partner in crime 💗

Kevin Schlieb

💋hookups💋

Bill Denbrough

🎈| you’re jealous

Charles - Xmen

Charles Xavier never opened a school. There were no students, no uniforms, no X-Men — only a quiet house on the edge of the countryside, and the little girl who gave his life meaning. She was born on a rainy April morning, all soft cries and tiny hands that clung to his finger like she already knew he’d never let go. Her mother, Amelia, had been his calm and his laughter — and losing her two years later to lingering complications from childbirth nearly broke him. But grief had to wait. He had a daughter to raise. She was different from the start — sensitive to sound and touch, careful about food, refusing anything with the wrong texture. Her speech came slowly, words tripping over each other until frustration would fill her eyes. But Charles never lost patience. He’d sit beside her, smiling gently as she tried again and again. “You’re doing beautifully,” he’d whisper. “The world can wait for you.” Their home wasn’t grand, but it was warm. Friends came and went, forming a small, makeshift family around them. Hank visited often, his soft-spoken kindness helping her see that brilliance didn’t have to mean perfection. Raven became her fierce protector, quick to comfort her and quicker to defend her. Logan took her out to the woods, teaching her how to be brave when life felt too loud. And Erik — complicated, thoughtful Erik — taught her chess, telling her, “You think differently. That’s a gift, not a flaw.” But as she grew, love became tangled with anger. Teen years hit hard — slammed doors, harsh words, the ache of wanting to be understood. One night she shouted, “I’m not perfect like you! I can’t even talk right!” and stormed out before he could answer. Logan found her on the porch steps, face hidden in her knees. “You done yelling at the world?” he asked, crouching beside her. She sniffed. “I didn’t mean it.” He gave a small shrug. “He knows. He’s tougher than he looks.” When she finally crept back inside, Charles was still awake, waiting by the fire. Her voice shook as she whispered, “I’m sorry, Dad.” He smiled gently, eyes glassy with emotion. “I know, darling. I never stopped knowing.” He gathered her into his arms, holding her close as the rain tapped against the windows — the same sound that had filled their lives since the day she was born. And though their home was quiet, it was alive with love, with forgiveness, and with the kind of bond that didn’t need perfection to be whole. For Charles Xavier, that was enough. It always had been.

Kevin Schlieb

Play flirting 💕 (re-written)

Jaeden Martell

Long distance ❤️‍🩹 (re written)

Kevin Schlieb

Boyfriend comes over for a movie night

Kevin Schlieb

🎸| drummer, awkward, friendly

Jacob Barber

Jacob Barber (no murder accusations)

Jaeden Martell

All in 💕

Cameron- Out of Body

He came to you

Kevin Schlieb

Friends to lovers

Roy Gray

𝐊𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 💓🐈

Jaeden Martell

🫂// insomnia (re-written)

Bill Denbrough

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 ♡︎

Rodrick Heffley

Having a baby with him

Bill Denbrough

𝒜－𝒶－𝒶𝒹ℴ𝓇𝒶𝒷𝓁ℯ？

Bill Denbrough

🎈| fighting a clown with your friends

Rodrick Heffley

Your parents found out about… 🤰

Dean Taylor

Your troubled boyfriend

Kevin Schlieb

“Watch Your Fucking Mouth”

Bill Denrbough

Kissing Bridge

Kevin Schlieb

You like your brothers friend

Cameron- Out of Body

Meeting Ryan for the first time

Rodrick Heffley

Caught making out

Bill Denbrough

Our Names, Forever

Kevin Schlieb

He forgot your b-day

Kevin Shlieb

🤘| drummer, bi, sweet

Cameron- Out Of Body

🚬|| druggie boyfriend (re-written)

Rodrick Heffley

Young Father Rodrick

Jacob Barber

Shadows of Innocence

Bill Denbrough

🎈| jealousy?

Bill Denbrough

Best friends to lovers 🩷

Kevin Schlieb

“What the Fuck Did You Just Say?”

Kevin Schlieb

Drummer, nerdy, kind

Kevin Schlieb

🎮|| video games at hunters house

Kevin Schlieb

🤘| Metalhead

Kevin Schlieb

“Let Me Love You Like This”

Rodrick Heffley

*The baby had finally settled into Rodrick’s arms, her little eyes half-shut as she drifted toward sleep. Rodrick rocked her gently, humming something soft and off-key, desperate not to break the fragile peace.* *But peace never lasted long in the Heffley house.* “Rodrick!” *Manny marched into the living room, clutching a toy truck.* “Play with me now!” *Rodrick sighed, keeping his voice calm.* “Not right now, dude. She just fell asleep.” *Manny stomped his foot.* “No. I want you now.” *Rodrick tightened his hold on the baby, speaking through his teeth.* “Manny, she’s finally quiet. If you wake her up, we’re all doomed. Go play with Greg.” *Greg, sprawled on the couch with a video game controller, held up his hands.* “No way. He’s your problem.” *That set Manny off. He started banging his truck on the floor. Clang. Clang. Clang.* *The baby stirred, her tiny face scrunching. Rodrick froze.* “Manny—stop.” *But Manny only hit the floor harder, louder.* “I want Rodrick! I want Rodrick!” *The baby let out a sharp cry. Rodrick’s jaw clenched. He bounced her quickly, whispering,* “Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” trying to soothe her, but her wails grew louder. *And then something in him snapped.* “MANNY!” *Rodrick barked, his voice booming louder than he meant it to.* “KNOCK IT OFF!” *The toy truck dropped to the floor with a thud. Manny froze, wide-eyed, staring at his older brother. Greg sat up too, eyebrows raised—he’d never seen Rodrick yell like that, not with that much edge in his voice.* *The baby cried harder against his chest, and Rodrick shut his eyes for a moment, guilt flashing across his face. He shifted her in his arms, rocking her fast, his voice dropping to a desperate whisper.* “Shhh, baby girl, Daddy’s sorry. You’re okay.” *Manny’s lip trembled.* “Y-you yelled at me.” *Rodrick looked over at him, exhausted and frustrated.* “Because you don’t get it, Manny! She’s not like you—she can’t just wait. She needs me right now. I’m tired, I’m doing my best, and you’re making it harder!” *The words hung heavy in the air. Manny’s eyes welled up, and for a second Rodrick thought he was about to cry. Greg shifted uncomfortably, mumbling,* “Yikes…” *Rodrick took a shaky breath, lowering his voice. He walked toward Manny, still rocking the baby, who was starting to calm down again.* “Look… I didn’t mean to scare you, alright? But you gotta understand. She’s just a baby. She needs me every second. It doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. But you can wait—she can’t.” *Manny sniffled, wiping his face with his sleeve.* “…Promise you’ll play with me later?” *Rodrick’s shoulders slumped. He nodded.* “Yeah, dude. I promise. Just… help me out, okay? Be quiet when she’s sleeping.” *Manny nodded, finally picking up his truck and shuffling away.* *Greg watched the whole thing, wide-eyed.* “Man… I don’t think I’ve ever seen you actually… care that much.” *Rodrick sank onto the couch, holding the baby close to his chest as her cries finally softened into hiccups. He glared at Greg, but his voice was tired, not sharp.* “Yeah, well… you’d understand if you were holding your whole world in your arms.” *Greg blinked at that, caught off guard by the weight in Rodrick’s words. He didn’t even have a comeback.*

Rodrick Heffley

Alt Girlfriend and Emo boyfriend 💗🖤

Kevin Schlieb

Teen pregnancy

Bill Denbrough

I’m just a kid…

Kevin Schlieb

Following the metal lords lore

Kevin Schlieb

“Birthday Night”

Kevin Schlieb

You’re in love with your brothers friend

Kevin Schlieb

Enemies to lovers

Rodrick Heffley

Opening scene of DOAWP

Jacob Barber

*You’d lost count of how many times you’d replayed the news clip in your head. fifthteen-year-old Jacob Barber has been taken into custody in connection with the death of classmate Ben Rifkin…* *Every time you heard it, it felt like a punch to the gut. You’d been sitting in chemistry class just the day before, passing him a note under the table with a badly drawn doodle, and now… this.* *The courthouse smelled like cold air and paper. You sat in the back row during the arraignment, your heart thudding hard against your ribs. Jacob walked in wearing the same sweatshirt you’d seen him in a hundred times, but here, it looked like a costume — like they’d stripped him of being a person and turned him into a suspect.* *His eyes found yours. Just for a second. It wasn’t a smile, but something passed between you — a flicker of relief, maybe, that you were there.* *When it was over and he was led away again, you waited outside until Laurie, his mom, came out, her expression drawn and tired. She gave you a small nod — the kind of nod that meant he needs you right now.* *Later that night, you sat on his bed while he paced the room, still wearing the wristband from processing. His hands were shaking, but his voice was steady in that way people sound when they’re trying very hard not to break.* “They think I did it,” *he said, stopping by the window.* “Everyone at school, the cops, the DA… they’ve already decided.” *You swallowed hard.* “But you didn’t.” *He looked at you for a long time, like he was measuring whether you were saying it because you believed it… or because you wanted to.* “No,” *he said finally.* “I didn’t.” *Something in your chest loosened, but the fear didn’t leave. Not because you doubted him — but because you could feel how much the world did.* *You crossed the room and took his hand, pulling him down to sit beside you.* “Then we’re going to get through this. I don’t care what they say. I don’t care what they think.” *He gave a small, almost disbelieving laugh.* “You’re gonna stick around for this? You know what it’s gonna be like? Everyone’s gonna look at you and think—” “They can think whatever they want,” *you cut in.* “I know who you are.” *For a moment, he just stared at you, his jaw tight, like he was fighting something inside himself. Then he leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. His voice was a whisper.* “Don’t let go of me.” *And you didn’t. Even as the world outside his bedroom window seemed ready to swallow you both whole, you held on.*

Rodrick Heffley

He’s older than you by a little bit

Kevin Schlieb

Friends with benefits?

Jacob Barber

Venting❤️‍🩹(Jacob’s ver)

Kevin Schlieb

Schlieb’s bitch

Kevin Schlieb

You shared an intimate night

Bill Denbrough

Friend and fam road trip

Rodrick Heffley

The party scene from Rodrick Rules

Kevin Schlieb

*You and Kevin were laying down in his bed, cuddling as he rambled about how Hunter was trying to get Emily to not join the band, he seemed pretty annoyed about it too* *He had his arms around your waist as he spoke, taking long deep breaths of your scent, he was looking down at you while your face was nuzzled into his chest* "I mean, why does he get to choose if the metal band has a cello in it? Plus he said it was gay, has he looked around his room?!" *You giggled as he rambled on, snuggling up to him*

Bill Denbrough

Sweet, kindhearted. Stutter

Jasper Jordan

Almost 💋 (s1)

Bill Denbrough

Fight with Henry Bowers

Kevin Schlieb

*It didn’t happen that night.* *That night, Kevin stayed with you until the sun crept between the blinds. He didn’t talk much—just held your hand like it was the only way to keep you from slipping away. But something about the way he hugged you before he left told you he was already halfway gone.* *The breakup came three days later. You met at the park you always used to go to after school, the one with the chipped bench and the graffiti hearts carved into the wood. The air was damp, heavy, the sky low and gray.* *Kevin was already there, tapping a drumstick against his leg like it was the only thing keeping him steady. When you approached, he looked up, his eyes soft but tired—too tired for someone his age.* “I don’t want to do this,” *he started, voice cracking slightly.* “Then don’t,” *you said automatically, but there was no weight behind it. You didn’t even sound like you were talking to him—more like you were talking to yourself.* *He shook his head, swallowing hard.* “I meant it when I said… I’d rather lose somebody than use somebody. And if I keep being the one to pull you back, I’m going to lose myself. I don’t want to get to the point where I start resenting you.” *Your chest burned, but you didn’t move.* “So this is it?” “I think it has to be.” *You nodded once, even though every part of you wanted to scream. You could feel your nails digging into your palms inside your sleeves, feel your throat tighten to the point of pain—but you kept your face still. If he was leaving, you weren’t going to hand him the sound of you breaking too.* *Kevin stepped closer, hesitating before wrapping his arms around you. You didn’t hug him back right away, just stood there stiff until your body betrayed you and pressed into his warmth for the last time.* “I’m sorry,” *he murmured into your hair.* *When he pulled away, the cold air rushed in, and you didn’t follow him with your eyes as he walked off—you just stared down at the gravel until his footsteps faded.* *Only then did you let your lips tremble, your vision blur. You bit down hard, swallowing every sound that threatened to escape.* *Because if Kevin was going to remember you, you didn’t want him to remember you begging. You wanted him to remember you standing still while he walked away. Even if the truth was, you felt like you were collapsing on the inside.*

Kevin Schlieb

“Ever listen to Alex G?”

Rodrick Heffley

Late Night in the Heffley Garage

Bill Denbrough

Asthma attack

Kevin Schlieb

Cuddles and kisses 💕💗

Bill Denbrough

Denbrough’s bitch

Bill Denbrough

Venting❤️‍🩹

Kevin Schlieb

🤘🥁| awkward, nice, nerdy

Kevin Schlieb

Strangers, to friends… maybe lovers?

Jacob Barber

*The courthouse steps were swarming with people—reporters shouting questions, camera flashes breaking through the cold, gray air. Jacob kept his head down, shoulders tense under the weight of it all. His hoodie was zipped halfway, the familiar green t-shirt underneath visible only when the wind tugged at his jacket.* *You were right there beside him, your hand tucked into his sleeve, fingers gripping just enough for him to feel you. You could hear the sharp click of cameras, the muffled thud of footsteps, the murmur of strangers whispering his name as if it were a headline and not a person.* “Jacob!” *someone barked from the crowd, and you felt his arm stiffen. He didn’t look up. You knew why—looking meant seeing the judgment in their eyes.* “Don’t,” *you whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.* *His gaze stayed locked on the ground, but the tension in his arm eased. You shifted closer, your shoulder brushing his. The smell of his shampoo, faint under the cold air, grounded you both.* *When the press surged forward, a hand pressed against Jacob’s back—his father’s, firm and guiding—but Jacob tilted his head slightly toward you.* “Still here?” *His voice was almost lost under the noise.* “Always,” *you answered without hesitation.* *For a moment, it was just the two of you, the chaos muffled like it was happening behind glass. You could feel his heartbeat in the way he held himself—fast, uneven—but his breathing slowed just a fraction. You were his anchor, the one thing in this storm that hadn’t turned against him.* *As the three of you pushed through the crowd toward the courthouse doors, Jacob’s hand brushed yours. It was quick, almost accidental, but deliberate enough for you to understand. You didn’t need to see his eyes to know—he was holding on, just as much as you were.* *Inside, the noise faded. But you still didn’t let go.*

Bill Denbrough

B.D. || Only love 💞

Kevin Schlieb

He took you on a date (intimate version)

Kevin Schlieb

*The night before, you’d smoked too much and stayed up too late. The kind of night where your thoughts felt like a storm you couldn’t outrun. Kevin had called, but you didn’t answer. He always called when he knew you were slipping.* *You woke up to a text:* “Can we talk?” *You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to face the words you knew were coming. But you also didn’t want him to think you didn’t care.* *You met him at the park — the one where you used to sit and talk about everything and nothing. The sky was overcast, the air thick with humidity, like the world was holding its breath.* *Kevin was sitting on the swings, his hands gripping the chains, his head down. He didn’t look up when you approached.* “I don’t want to do this,” *he said, his voice barely above a whisper.* *You stood there, waiting, not sure what to say.* “I can’t keep doing this,” *he continued.* “I’d rather lose somebody than use somebody.” *You felt a lump form in your throat. You knew what he meant. You knew he was talking about you — about how you’d been using him to fill the emptiness inside you, how you’d been pushing him away without even realizing it.* “I’m sorry,” *you said, the words tasting like ash in your mouth.* *Kevin finally looked up at you, his eyes tired but kind.* “I don’t want to hurt you,” *he said.* “But I can’t keep pretending I’m okay when I’m not.” *You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. You wanted to tell him you’d change, that you’d get better, that you’d stop running from everything. But you didn’t know if you could.* “I know,” *you whispered.* *He stood up, taking a step toward you. For a moment, you thought he might hug you, might tell you everything would be okay. But instead, he just reached out and touched your arm gently.* “I’ll always care about you,” *he said.* “But I can’t be the one to fix you.” *You nodded again, unable to speak.* *He turned and walked away, his footsteps fading into the distance. You stood there, alone, feeling the weight of his words settle over you.* *And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself feel the ache of the loss — not just of him, but of everything you’d been running from.*

Billy Mitchell

He saw the real you

Rodrick Heffley

Responsible father

Kevin Schlieb

“The Empty Stall”

Jasper Jordan

Season 1 inspired.

Kevin Schlieb

College hook up

Bill Denbrough

Bill’s love letter 💌💓

Kevin Schlieb

🥁🤘| shy, metalhead, nerd

Billy Mitchell

The lake

Bill Denbrough

𝒩ℴ𝓉 𝓈ℯ𝓉 𝒻ℴ𝓇 𝒶 𝒷ℴ𝓎𝒻𝓇𝒾ℯ𝓃𝒹

Kevin Schlieb

The walls were too white. Too sterile. Too quiet. That was the first thing she noticed after they brought her in — the kind of silence that didn’t comfort, but pressed down on her chest until she could hardly breathe. Her parents had cried. The counselor had said it was “for her safety.” And Kevin… Kevin didn’t even get to say goodbye. One moment she was sitting in the office, telling the truth for once — about how she’d been feeling, about the nights she didn’t think she’d wake up — and the next, there were people with soft voices and clipboards, saying words like inpatient care and observation period. Her wrists still had faint marks from where they’d held her arms, not violently, just firmly, like she might slip away if they didn’t. Now, she sat on the edge of a narrow bed, the sheets tucked too tight, her hoodie gone — “not allowed,” they said. Too many strings. Too much risk. She hadn’t spoken since she got there. A nurse came in once a day, always the same one — a woman in her 40s with tired, kind eyes. “We’re trying to help you,” she said in a voice that was meant to sound comforting. “The more you talk, the faster you can get out of here. We just need to make sure you’re okay.” But she didn’t talk. Couldn’t. The words stayed locked in her throat like broken glass. Every day, she woke up to the same routine — meds, group therapy she never joined, a tray of tasteless food she barely touched, and the ticking of a clock that never seemed to move. The smell of disinfectant burned her nose. The fluorescent lights buzzed. And every night, when the halls went still, she would lie in bed staring at the ceiling, eyes dry from tears that never fell. Somewhere in her chest, Kevin’s voice lived like a ghost. “Hey,” he’d say in her memory, smiling, “you good?” And she’d almost answer. Almost. But he wasn’t here. She wasn’t sure how long it had been — days, weeks, maybe months. They didn’t let her have her phone, didn’t tell her much about the outside world. All she had was a notebook she’d hidden in her sleeve when they admitted her. The cover was soft and worn, pages crumpled at the edges. Every night, she’d write to Kevin. Sometimes just a few lines. Day 7? maybe 8. I don’t know. I miss you. The lights don’t go out all the way here. I can’t sleep. They keep saying I have to talk. But I only know how to talk to you. Some pages were shaky. Others stained with tears. I think I’m forgetting your voice. I don’t want to. Please don’t let me. I keep seeing you in the hallway. But when I look again, you’re gone. She pressed her pen harder each time, like writing could make him real again. Like ink could fill the hollow in her chest. Then, one night — maybe it was two, maybe it was ten — something in her cracked. She woke up gasping, her heart hammering, panic clawing at her throat. She stumbled out of bed, notebook falling to the floor, and slammed her fists against the locked door. “Let me out!” The words tore from her like they’d been waiting for years. “Please, please let me out—” Her voice broke. The sound of her fists hitting the door echoed down the corridor — dull thuds, then sharper ones as her knuckles split. Blood smeared against white paint. The nurses came running, shouting her name, but she couldn’t stop. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. “I want to go home!” she screamed, voice raw, hysterical. “I want Kevin—where is he?!” But Kevin wasn’t there. Hands caught her arms again — gentle but unyielding — and the world blurred. The last thing she saw before collapsing to the floor was the edge of her notebook, lying open, the ink bleeding into the paper from her tears. i think i’m losing myself. if you’re still real, please find me. Then everything went black.

Bill Denbrough

The fight seen from IT 2017

Kevin Schlieb

“There may be something… wrong with you but…”

Kevin Schlieb

“Below the Surface”

Kevin Schlieb

“The First Time Wasn’t Perfect—It Was Real”

Bill Denbrough

Day in a life with him

Rodrick Heffley

Picking his girl up for a date

Kevin Schlieb

Hiding your relationship with Kevin

Bill Denbrough

Bill is your bf and your brother is gay.

Cameron- Out of Body

Venting❤️‍🩹🚬(Cameron’s Ver)(Re-Written)

Bill Denbrough

B.D// He was having nightmares

Bill Denbrough

“Between Pages”

Kevin Schlieb

If You Leave, I’ll Forget How to Breathe

Kevin Schlieb

*It started as background noise — your sister talking about her new boyfriend over dinner, your mom chiming in about how “nice” and “polished” he was. You didn’t think much of it… until your father turned to you.* “So,” *he said casually,* “are you still seeing that drummer boy?” *Your fork paused halfway to your mouth.* “…Kevin.” “Right, Kevin,” *he said with a chuckle that wasn’t friendly.* “The one with the hair. And the noise complaints.” “It’s not ‘noise,’ it’s music,” *you muttered.* *Your sister smirked into her wine glass.* “If you can call whatever his band does ‘music.’” *You set your fork down.* “You’ve never even listened to them.” “Don’t have to,” *she said.* “I’ve seen the videos. It’s… chaotic. Kind of like you, actually.” *Your mother’s voice cut in, softer but no less sharp.* “Honey, we just think you could do better. Someone with… direction. A real job, maybe.” *You blinked.* “He’s sixteen.” “Exactly,” *your father said.* “At that age, you should be thinking about the future. Not… hanging around in garages playing at being a rock star.” *You felt heat rising up your neck.* “He works harder than most people I know. And he believes in something, which is more than I can say for—” “Don’t,” *your mother warned.* *But it was too late; the frustration had been building for months.* “You all act like dating him is some kind of moral failure. Like it says something about me. Well, it does — it says I don’t care about fitting into your cookie-cutter mold, and I’m done pretending I do.” *Your sister gave a little laugh.* “You’re so dramatic.” *The scrape of your chair echoed in the room as you stood.* “You know what? Forget it.” *Your mother’s voice followed you toward the door.* “We just want you to be realistic! He’s not going to take you anywhere in life.” *You turned back just long enough to say,* “He’s already taken me somewhere — away from people who treat me like I’m never enough.” *The door slammed behind you, your pulse still thundering. By the time you stepped into the cool night air, your phone buzzed in your pocket.* *Kevin: “Band practice’s over. Wanna come hang out?” And just like that, you knew exactly where you needed to be.*

Rodrick Heffley

They kicked him out of the band

Bill Denbrough

You’re married 💍💕 (AHHHHH)

Bill Denbrough

“Don’t worry, I already know what he’s like”

Jaeden Martell

Too Good for Me

Jacob Barber

*It felt like the world had shrunk to the size of a courtroom. The stale air, the quiet shuffling of papers, the creak of chairs — it all pressed in around you as you sat in the gallery, eyes locked on Jacob.* *He looked so small at the defense table, his suit slightly rumpled, his hair falling into his eyes the way it always did when he was nervous. But what made your stomach twist was the way everyone else looked at him — like he was already guilty.* *They didn’t see the boy you knew. The one who’d walked you home in the rain because you’d forgotten your umbrella. The one who’d let you choose the movie every single time, even if he hated it. The one who, last week in a whisper, had said, “I didn’t do it. You believe me, right?”* *And you had said yes. Without hesitation.* *But now, listening to the prosecution talk about fingerprints and text messages and some vague motive, you felt the doubt crawling in at the edges — and you hated yourself for it.* *When court adjourned for lunch, you met him in the hallway. The security guard kept a few feet between you, but Jacob’s eyes searched yours like he could read every thought.* “You believe me,” *he said quietly. Not a question. A plea.* “I do,” *you said. And you meant it — or at least you wanted to mean it so badly it hurt.i *His shoulders relaxed, just a fraction.* “Good. Because if I lose you, I’ve got nothing.” *The trial dragged on for weeks, each day a storm you couldn’t outrun. The evidence was ugly, the whispers at school were worse, and your parents’ glares whenever Jacob’s name came up felt like knives. But every time you saw him — in that courtroom, in the few minutes you were allowed to talk — the world tilted back into place.* *The verdict came on a gray Thursday afternoon. Your heart thudded as the foreperson stood.* “Not guilty.” *The words hit you like air after drowning. You covered your mouth, tears springing to your eyes as Jacob’s mother collapsed into his father’s arms.* *Jacob turned toward you, his face breaking into the smallest, most fragile smile — and in that moment, you knew it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. You’d been there when it felt like the whole world had turned on him. You’d chosen him anyway.* *Later, outside the courthouse, he reached for your hand.* “You still believe me?” *You squeezed his fingers, feeling the answer settle deep in your chest.* “Always.”

Bill Denbrough

He’s jealous

Rodrick Heffley

*Being with Rodrick Heffley was like living in constant chaos — but it was *the kind of chaos you secretly loved. *Your relationship wasn’t the sugary, picture-perfect type. It was playful arguments, stubbornness, teasing, and underneath it all, this undeniable love that seemed to burn brighter every day.* *Like now.* *You were standing in the driveway while Rodrick tuned his guitar, insisting he was about to play you “the most epic love song of all time.”* “You said that last week,” *you reminded him, crossing your arms.* “Yeah, well, this one’s actually finished,” *he shot back, flashing that lopsided grin that always made it hard to stay mad.* *You raised an eyebrow.* “Finished, huh? So it won’t randomly turn into a drum solo halfway through?” *He pressed a hand to his chest like you’d wounded him.* “Babe. That was art. You just don’t get it.” *You laughed, shaking your head, but before you could say anything else, he started strumming. The chords were rough, a little clumsy, but there was something raw and sweet in the way he sang—half teasing, half serious, all heart.* “You drive me crazy, But don’t ever go, Even when you’re roasting me, You’re the best thing I know.” “I’m loud, I’m dumb, I’m always late, But you still stick around, Guess it must be fate.” *He looked up at you, hair falling in his eyes, and grinned mid-verse.* “So yeah, I’m not smooth, And yeah, I’m a mess, But out of the whole world, You’re still the best.” *By the time he finished, you were trying so hard not to smile like an idiot.* “You’re ridiculous,” *you said softly.* “Yeah,” *he said, setting the guitar aside and stepping closer, his expression more serious now.* “But I’m ridiculous about you.” *You shoved his shoulder lightly, rolling your eyes.* “That was so cheesy.” *Rodrick leaned in, smirking.* “Cheesy works for us.” *And that was the thing—your love wasn’t perfect. You bickered, teased, drove each other insane sometimes. ' But like any happy couple, every sarcastic jab, was just proof of how much you cared.* *Because at the end of the day, Rodrick wasn’t just your boyfriend. He was your chaos, your partner-in-crime, your idiot—and somehow, the one person who made the world make sense.*

Bill Denbrough

Leader, stutter, kind

Bill Denbrough

The new girl in town

Roy Gray

Make it stop 💔

Kevin Schlieb

You have sensory problems

Kevin Schlieb

Asthma attack (Kevin ver.)

Rodrick Heffley

Snap streak

Bill Denbrough

July Quiet

Kevin Schlieb

🎢 || six flags trip

Rodrick Heffley

*It was a Saturday afternoon at the Heffley house, which basically meant total chaos as usual. Greg was downstairs trying to beat Rowley at some video game, Manny was running around with his plastic hammer, and Susan was in the kitchen organizing one of her “family fun” nights that nobody actually thought was fun.* *Meanwhile, upstairs in Rodrick’s room, things were very different.* *You were sitting on Rodrick’s bed, listening to him brag about how Löded Diper was “definitely gonna get signed soon.” He leaned in, grinning that mischievous grin he always had.* “C’mon, babe, you know the band’s gonna blow up. And when it does… you’ll be like, dating a rock star.” *You laughed, rolling your eyes.* “You’ve been saying that for two years, Rodrick.” “Yeah, but this time, I mean it,” *he said, before kissing you. One kiss turned into another… and before long, you two were full-on making out on his bed.* *The problem? Neither of you remembered to lock the door.* *The knob turned. The door creaked open.* “Hey, Rodrick, Mom said—” *Greg froze, eyes widening in horror.* “OH MY GOD!” *You and Rodrick sprang apart like you’d both been caught committing a crime. Rodrick’s face went red, and yours probably matched.* “GREG!” *Rodrick shouted, practically falling off the bed as he scrambled to his feet.* “GET OUT!!” *Greg backed up into the hall, looking scarred for life.* “I—uh—I didn’t see anything!” *he stammered, covering his eyes with his hands.* *Rodrick stormed after him, grabbing the doorframe.* “Listen, twerp,” *he hissed, glaring down at Greg.* “If you even think about telling Mom what you saw, I swear—I’ll tell everyone at school about that time you cried watching that ‘Magical Unicorn’ cartoon.” *Greg gasped.* “You promised you’d never bring that up!” “Well, promises don’t mean anything if you open your big mouth,” *Rodrick smirked.* *Greg, pale and defeated, nodded furiously.* “Fine, fine! I won’t say anything! Just—ugh, I think I need bleach for my eyes.” *He shuffled down the hall, muttering to himself.* *Rodrick shut the door and leaned against it, running a hand through his messy hair. Then he turned back to you, grinning sheepishly.* “Crisis averted,” *he said.* “Now, where were we?”

Bill Denbrough

Mourning the loss of his younger brother

Billy Mitchell

Windowsill

Kevin Schlieb

Too much smoke

Roy Gray

Learning how to live a little

Rodrick Heffley

*The house was small—just two bedrooms, a cramped living room, and a kitchen that always smelled faintly of coffee and baby formula. But it was yours. Yours, Rodrick’s, and your daughter’s.* *Rodrick loved it. No Greg barging in, no Susan breathing down his neck, no Manny raiding his room. Just peace… or at least, it was supposed to be.* *This afternoon, peace was impossible.* “Rodrick, we’ll only be gone a few hours,” *Susan said cheerfully, pushing Manny through the front door while Greg dragged his feet behind.* “Be nice to your brothers.” “Mom—” *Rodrick started, but Frank gave him a pat on the shoulder before following her out.* “You’ll survive.” *The door clicked shut.* *Rodrick stared at Greg and Manny in the middle of the living room. He shifted his daughter in his arms, her tiny head resting on his chest.* “Great. Just great.” *Greg flopped onto the couch like he owned the place.* “Hey, don’t look at me. I’ll just sit here. Manny’s the one you gotta worry about.” *Right on cue, Manny stomped up to Rodrick.* “Rodrick, play trucks with me!” *Rodrick shook his head, bouncing his daughter gently.* “Not now, dude. She’s almost asleep. Let me put her down first.” *Manny frowned.* “No! Now.” *Rodrick exhaled, already feeling the headache forming. He walked toward the nursery and laid his daughter in the crib, rocking her gently until her cries faded into soft breaths.* “There we go, princess,” *he whispered.* *But before he could even step back, Manny came barreling into the room, toy truck in hand.* “VROOOM VROOOM!” *he yelled, crashing the truck against the crib rail.* *The baby jolted awake and immediately burst into tears.* *Rodrick froze. His entire body tensed. Slowly, he turned to Manny, who was grinning proudly like nothing was wrong.* “Manny,” *Rodrick said, his voice dangerously quiet,+ “what did you just do?” “I made her play with me!” *Manny announced, as if it were obvious.* *The baby wailed louder, tiny fists flailing, and Rodrick’s composure shattered.* “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” *he roared, scooping his daughter up in a panic.* “She was asleep! Do you have any idea how long it took me to get her down?!” *His voice cracked with the frustration he’d been holding back for weeks.* *Manny’s grin faltered.* “I… I just wanted—” “NO, Manny!” *Rodrick’s eyes were blazing, but his arms stayed gentle as he rocked the crying baby.* “It’s not always about what you want! She’s a baby, she needs sleep, she needs quiet, and you don’t just barge in screaming like it’s a playground!” *Greg peeked into the room, wide-eyed.* “Whoa. Chill, man—” “Shut up, Greg!” *Rodrick snapped, his voice raw.* “You don’t get it either! You both get to be kids—run around, make noise, do whatever you want! But she depends on me. Every second. And I can’t let her down.” *The baby’s cries softened as Rodrick’s voice broke. He pressed his cheek against her tiny head, closing his eyes.* “She needs me to be better. And I’m trying.” *The room went quiet. Manny’s lip trembled, guilt washing over his face. Greg shifted awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.* *Finally, Manny whispered,* “…Sorry.” *Rodrick opened his eyes, still rocking his daughter. His voice dropped to something tired but calmer.* “Just… please, Manny. Let her sleep. I promise I’ll play trucks later, okay? But you can’t wake her up again.” *Manny nodded silently, clutching his toy truck to his chest.* *Greg muttered,* “Man… you’ve really changed.” *Rodrick looked down at the baby, who had finally relaxed back into his arms, her tiny breaths warm against his shirt. He kissed her forehead and whispered, almost to himself,* “Yeah. I had to.”

Bill Denbrough

Depression

Billy Mitchell

He took you fishing 🎣

Jacob Barber

Quiet Strength

Jasper Jordan

You thought he died

Kevin Schlieb

*It started with a side comment from your aunt at dinner.* “I saw your little… friend the other day,” *she said, swirling her wine.* “The one with the drumsticks sticking out of his back pocket? What’s his name again? Kevin?” *Your mother sighed in that disappointed way she’d perfected over the years.* “Yes, Kevin. He’s in a—what is it?—a heavy metal band. Very unique.” You set your fork down slowly. “It’s called Skullf—” *You stopped yourself just in time, knowing you’d only give them more ammunition.* “It’s called Skullflower.” *Your sister snorted.* “Sounds classy. Bet he’s a real hit with job applications.” *Your father leaned back, arms crossed.* “I just don’t understand why you’d waste your time with someone who’s clearly not going anywhere. No college plans, no stable future… is this really the kind of person you want to build your life around?” *Your stomach twisted.* “Kevin’s talented. He’s driven. He actually believes in me—” “Oh, please,” *your sister interrupted, rolling her eyes.* “Believes in what? Wearing black and screaming into microphones? You’ve always gone for… projects.” *That one hit harder than you expected.* “He’s not a project. He’s my boyfriend.” “And that’s exactly what worries us,” *your mother said, her voice low but sharp.* “You have potential. You’re smart, but you’re throwing it away on someone who isn’t in your league. We raised you better than this.” “Better than this?” *you repeated, your voice catching.* “You mean better than being happy?” *Your father’s jaw tightened.* “Happy now doesn’t mean secure later.” “Yeah, well,” *you said, shoving your chair back,* “I’d rather have Kevin and no ‘secure later’ than live your idea of a perfect life where I’m miserable.” “Don’t be dramatic,” *your mother called as you grabbed your jacket.* *But you were already halfway to the door, your pulse pounding in your ears. Their words clung to you like smoke — waste of time… not in your league… throwing it away.* *You didn’t even realize your hands were shaking until your phone buzzed.* *Kevin:* “Practice ended early. Wanna hang out?” *You stared at the screen, a small breath escaping you. If nothing else, you knew one thing: tonight, you needed him.*

Bill Denbrough

**Derry, Maine — Late Summer, 1989** *The air was thick with the smell of damp leaves and something faintly metallic, like rain before a storm. You and Bill had been walking down the cracked sidewalk, the kind where weeds pushed through in stubborn little tufts, for a good ten minutes without speaking.* *It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You’d been hanging out with the Losers all afternoon, but somewhere between teasing Eddie about his fanny pack and Richie’s bad impressions, the conversation had shifted. Small disagreements stacked like playing cards, one on top of the other, until it all came tumbling down.* “You never listen to me, Bill,” *you said, your voice sharper than you’d intended.* “You just… you decide what’s best and expect me to go along with it.” *Bill’s jaw tightened. He didn’t meet your eyes, instead keeping them fixed ahead, his sneakers scuffing the pavement.* “I— I’m t-trying to keep you safe,” *he said, the words catching on that familiar stutter.* “That’s not the same thing as treating me like I have a say!” *you snapped, folding your arms.* “I’m not… fragile.” *He finally stopped walking. The warm evening breeze rustled the maple trees overhead, sending little bursts of sunlight flickering across his face.* “Y-you think I don’t know that?” *His voice cracked—not from the stutter this time, but from something heavier.* *Your breath caught, but you stayed silent.* *Bill took a step closer, eyes burning into yours with that intensity he never quite managed to hide.* “So…” *he swallowed hard, his fists clenching at his sides,* “why do I care about you m-more than anybody else in the w-world?” *The question knocked the wind out of you. It wasn’t really a question—more like a confession, raw and unpolished.* *You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. For a long moment, it was just the two of you standing in the street, the summer cicadas buzzing like static in the background.* *He looked away first, muttering,* “I don’t… I don’t know how t-to not care. Even when you’re mad at me. Even when I mess it all up.” *Your anger softened, fraying at the edges. You reached for his hand, and after a heartbeat, he let you take it. His fingers were warm, steady, and trembling just slightly.* “Bill,” *you said quietly,* “you don’t have to know how. I just… need you to let me stand beside you. Not behind you.” *His lips twitched into the faintest, most reluctant smile.* “Beside me,” *he repeated, like he was testing the weight of the promise.* *And you both kept walking—together this time, not in silence, but in something that felt like understanding.*

Kevin Schlieb

“Cherry Soda and Stolen Light”

Kevin Schlieb

Enemies to lovers (detention ver)

Kevin Schlieb

Questions at the Door

Kevin Schlieb

Your birthday!

Bill Denbrough

Stutterer, shy, nice

Wally Clark

Cuddles on the library couch 💓

Rodrick Heffley

You joined him for couples skate 💗

Rodrick Heffley

The talk

Roderick Heffley

He spotted you at the roller rink

Rodrick Heffley

The Couch Disaster

Bill Denbrough

“I love you my princess💕”

Jacob Thrombey

“Meg’s Masterplan”

Kevin Schlieb

Healing with him

Joaquin

He helps you [SA WARNING]

Rodrick Heffley

*The house was small, but it was theirs. A little two-bedroom with creaky floors, secondhand furniture, and a baby crib tucked right next to Rodrick and your bed. It wasn’t much, but to Rodrick, it was better than the Heffley house—it was freedom. It was a place where he could figure out this whole “being a dad” thing without his mom breathing down his neck.* *Usually, it was just the three of you. But today was different.* *Susan and Frank had knocked on the door that morning with Greg and Manny in tow.* “We just need you to watch them for the day,” *Susan said sweetly, not giving Rodrick a chance to argue before disappearing with Frank down the driveway.* *So now it was Rodrick—twenty years old, running on too little sleep—stuck with his two-month-old daughter, Greg with his usual sarcasm, and Manny demanding attention every five seconds. And you weren’t even home to back him up—you’d gone out to grab groceries and baby supplies, leaving Rodrick with the circus.* *The baby had finally, finally started to doze off in his arms. Her little eyes fluttered, her fists relaxed, and Rodrick’s whole body loosened in relief. He rocked slowly in the chair, whispering,* “That’s it, princess. Go to sleep for Daddy, yeah?” *But peace never lasted long with Manny around.* “Rodrick! Play with me!” *Manny ran into the room clutching a toy truck.* *Rodrick shot him a warning look, lowering his voice so he wouldn’t wake the baby.* “Not right now, Manny. She’s almost asleep.” “Noooo,” *Manny whined, stomping closer.* “Play now!” *Greg, sprawled across the couch with his phone, snorted.* “This is better than TV.” *Rodrick ignored him, whispering sharply to Manny.* “I said not now. Go sit down.” *But Manny—being Manny—drove his truck right across the floor with a loud VROOOOM, crashing it against the wall. The noise jolted the baby awake, and within seconds, she burst into wails.* *Rodrick’s whole body tensed. He tried bouncing her gently, whispering frantically.* “No, no, no, no, come on… don’t do this, baby girl. Please, Daddy’s got you.” *But her cries only grew louder, shrill and pained.* *That’s when Rodrick snapped.* “MANNY!” *His voice roared through the little house, raw and furious.* “WHAT DID I JUST SAY?! I TOLD YOU NOT TO WAKE HER UP!” *Manny froze, his toy truck slipping from his hands. Greg’s mouth dropped open, caught between shock and fascination.* *Rodrick’s face was red, his chest heaving as he glared at Manny.* “Do you have any idea how hard this is?! I haven’t slept in days, I’m trying to do everything for her, and you—” *His voice cracked as the baby’s cries grew louder against his chest.* “You just made it ten times worse.” *Manny’s lip trembled.* “I-I just wanted to play…” *Greg muttered under his breath,* “Yikes,” *but even he looked uneasy.* *Rodrick shut his eyes tight, his anger collapsing into exhaustion. He rocked his daughter desperately, whispering to her through his shaking breaths.* “I’m sorry, baby girl… Daddy’s here… I didn’t mean to yell…” *When her sobs finally softened into little hiccups, he opened his eyes again, staring at Manny. His voice was rough now, quieter, but still sharp.* “You can’t do that, Manny. You can’t scream, you can’t stomp around, not when she’s sleeping. She needs me. She needs quiet. You get that?” *Manny sniffled, nodding slowly, his eyes watery.* *Greg, uncharacteristically quiet, sat up straighter.* “Uh… I think I’ll keep him busy in the other room.” *Rodrick didn’t answer—he just sank onto the couch, clutching his daughter close, pressing his face into her tiny head as if grounding himself. His voice was barely a whisper, meant more for himself than anyone else:* “I’m trying. I’m really trying.”

Jaeden Martell

“He’s Just… Too Perfect”

Rodrick Heffley

The Field of Candles

Kevin Schlieb

It’s your birthday!🎉

Kevin Schlieb

*The fight with your mom had been bad—worse than usual. Not yelling-in-the-kitchen bad. This one ended with you locking yourself in your room and her storming out of the house altogether. The air still felt cracked, like the walls remembered every word.* *Kevin showed up without asking. He’d gotten used to not asking.* *You were on the floor against your bed when he walked in, knees pulled to your chest, sleeves hiding your arms. The faint smell of weed hung in the air, stale and heavy.* “Hey,” *he said softly. His voice was a strange mix—careful, but also like he’d rehearsed it in the car and still wasn’t sure it would land.* “Hey.” *You didn’t look at him.* *He stood there for a few seconds before sitting down on the floor in front of you.* “You didn’t answer my texts,” *he said, not accusing, just stating.* *You shrugged.* “Didn’t feel like talking.” *He ran a hand through his hair, chewing his lip like he was drumming an invisible beat in his head to keep from exploding.* “I’m worried about you,” *he said finally.* “Like… actually worried.” *You exhaled, the kind of laugh that wasn’t really a laugh.*!“Yeah, well, get in line.” *That’s when he said it—quiet, but firm.* “I’d rather lose somebody than use somebody.” *The words didn’t just hang in the room—they dug in. You stared at him, because you couldn’t tell if he was warning you, protecting himself, or trying to save you.* “I’m not using you,” *you said, but your voice cracked in the middle.* “I know you’re not doing it on purpose,” *he said quickly.* “But… when you get like this, when you disappear into the smoke or… into your head, I can’t always reach you. And I—” *He stopped, jaw tightening.* “I can’t be the thing you hold onto just because everything else feels like it’s falling apart.” *It hurt, but you knew he wasn’t wrong. You wanted to tell him about the way your family could turn every small thing into a battlefield, how sometimes the silence afterward was worse than the fight itself. You wanted to explain how the weed wasn’t about fun anymore—it was about breathing without shaking, about shutting the noise out. You wanted to tell him that the marks on your arms weren’t about wanting to die, but about wanting to feel something you could control.* *But all that came out was:* “You think I’m hurting you.” *He shook his head.* “I think you’re hurting, and I don’t always know how to help without losing pieces of myself. And I want to help. I want to be here. But I also… need you to want to be here too.” *The silence after that wasn’t sharp anymore—it was raw. Heavy, but shared.* *Kevin slid closer, resting his back against the bed beside you. He didn’t touch you right away, didn’t force it. But eventually, your hand found his, and he took it, fingers closing over yours like a drumbeat keeping time.* *You still didn’t know if you could promise him you wouldn’t sink again. But you knew you didn’t want him to leave. And for tonight, that was the thread you held onto.*

Kevin Schlieb

Bruises you can’t see

Kevin Schlieb

What Breaks Through

Kevin Schlieb

Your hoodie smells like peace

Jacob Thrombey

“When Phones Take a Backseat”

Billy Mitchell

He took you to the beach 🏖️💓

Rodrick Heffley

Parking Lot Nights

Joaquin

You’re his wife 💗

Kevin Schlieb

“The Night She Felt Like a Person Again”

Rodrick Heffley

Mature Rodrick

Kevin Schlieb

“You made yourself into the black sheep, not us”

Rodrick Heffley

Rodrick losses it

Kevin Schlieb

Lake Shore Heat

Bill Denbrough

The First Time

Bill Denbrough

**Derry, Maine – 1988** *The summer fair was louder than you remembered. Music blared from the tinny speakers above the Ferris wheel, kids screamed in short bursts as they raced between rides, and the smell of fried dough, hot dogs, and gasoline from the generators swirled thick in the air.* *You tried to focus on the cotton candy in your hands—soft, sweet, familiar—but every sound and smell kept stacking on top of each other until it felt like the world was pressing too close. The chatter of people, the sharp clang of the ring toss, the whirring of a ride starting up—it was all blending together, too loud, too much.* *Bill had been walking beside you, talking about how Richie had nearly dropped his soda earlier, but he stopped mid-sentence when he saw your shoulders curl in.* “Y-You okay?” *he asked, his voice softer now, almost drowned out by the chaos around you.* *You shook your head, pressing your free hand against your temple.* “It’s… loud. Everything’s too loud.” *Bill’s eyes widened slightly—he’d seen you anxious before, but this was different. He didn’t ask questions, didn’t tell you to just ignore it. Instead, he scanned the fairgrounds quickly before gently taking your wrist.* “C’mon,” *he murmured, leading you past the crowd toward the quieter side of the park, where the old picnic tables sat under the shade of big elm trees. The sounds were still there, but muted now—like they’d moved just far enough away to breathe again.* *You sat down at the edge of a table, cotton candy untouched in your lap. Your breathing was still too fast, hands trembling.* *Bill crouched in front of you, his stutter slipping in only slightly.* “D-Do you want me to talk, or stay quiet?” *You swallowed hard.* “Quiet… for a bit.” *He nodded, sitting beside you so you could feel his presence without him taking up your focus. After a few minutes, when your breathing started to even out, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pack of your favorite crackers—the ones he’d noticed you always bought at the corner store.* *He set them gently in front of you.* “Figured you might… want these.” *The familiar crunch, the predictable taste—it was enough to help your mind settle another notch. You turned to look at him, your voice small.* “Thank you.” *Bill gave you a shy smile.* “Y-You don’t ever have to say sorry for stuff like this. I… I’m not going anywhere.” *The noise of the fair drifted in from a distance, but here under the trees, with Bill, the world felt safe again.*

Kevin Schlieb

“Something Like Soft”

Bill Denbrough

Trust me, I got nothing for you other than love 💗

Kevin Schlieb

“The Way You Breathe When You’re Safe”

Kevin Schlieb

“The Softest Night”

Rodrick Heffley

Rodrick is babysitting

Kevin Schlieb

When the world fell away

Kevin Schlieb

“A Real Day”

Bill Denbrough

Our Names in the Bridge

Kevin Schlieb

“Stay With Me”

Bill denbrough

*You were Bill Denbrough's distant cousin on his mother's side. You were close as kids, in Derry. Until a problem arose and you had to leave for California for a while. But you still kept in touch. You were fourteen now, and he was fifteen. One day your parents told you they were moving to Derry, so you could be reunited with your cousin, Bill.* *The news made you happy, because you knew you'd now be as close to Bill as you had been when you were kids. However, you didn't know what people were saying about that small town of Derry, you didn't know the kind of people who lived there, or the missing children posters that almost no one paid attention to. You never knew.* *And now you've reunited with Bill. You've bonded, and he's the same as before, neither of you changed. He introduces you to his friends... and takes you for a walk in Derry.* *Now that a week had passed, you were living next door to Bill's house. By the way, you were close and always saw each other. You were enrolled in the same school... Oh my God, that awful school. And Bill still hadn't told you about the Bowers gang.* *Your first day of school. Of course, you didn't wear the smile everyone wore when they entered a new school, trying to socialize. No. Bill told you that everyone here was as immature and rude as could be and that you couldn't always have that charming attitude.* *So, now you left your things in your locker, grabbed your backpack, and walked out with Bill by your side. You talked about various things until you accidentally bumped into someone.* *"I'm sorry!"* *"Watch where you're going, asshole..."* *That person took a few steps back, to see who you had bumped into. And there he was, the famous Henry Bowers, with his friends behind him. They were the Bowers gang, the ones you were so afraid of. Bill just grabbed your arm and pulled you.* “Let's go.” “What?..” “Let's go!” *You turned around again, and Henry was still looking at you, along with his friends. They were looking at you in such a strange way.*

Bill Denbrough

Road Trip

Kevin Schlieb

He wrote you a song 🎵💗

Kevin Schlieb

“One Night Out of Here”

Roy Gray

You try to help him

Bill Denbrough

“Pillow Fort”

Kevin Schlieb

“When the smoke clears”

Kevin Schlieb

The time you first met 💗

Kevin Schlieb

Almost…

Kevin Schlieb

“Gas Station Flowers & Midnight Ice Cream”

Rodrick Heffley

Away from the Heffley’s just with Rodrick.

Bill Denbrough

Like the Movies

Kevin Schlieb

The argument

Rodrick Heffley

Black & Pink

Kevin Schlieb

“The Sky Didn’t Fall Today”

Kevin Schlieb

The love letter 💌💔

Kevin Schlieb

The Black Sheep

Rodrick Heffley

“Greg! Get lost!”

Kevin Schlieb

“You Don’t Have to Hide from Me”

Kevin Schlieb

“You’re a disappointment,” *your father barked, voice booming through the kitchen.* “Always have been.” *Your mother’s face twisted with frustration.* “Why can’t you be normal? Why do you always have to mess things up?” *You slammed your fist on the table.* “I’m not the one who messed up here! You don’t understand me at all!” “Understand? How could we?” *your father shouted back.* “You hide behind drugs and scars, acting like you don’t care!” “I care!” *you yelled, tears streaming.* “I’m scared! I’m hurting! But you just see the ‘black sheep.’ The failure.” “You’re dragging the family down,” *your mother spat.* “No,” *you whispered, voice raw.* “You’re the ones who don’t see me.” *You stormed out before they could answer.*

Kevin Schleib

Anywhere as long as it’s with you

Kevin Schlieb

Everywhere you are

Kevin Schlieb

Ashes in the air

Kevin Schlieb

“The Night Nothing Hurt”

Rodrick Heffley

Teenage parents 🍼

Kevin Schlieb

“The First Time It Meant Something”

Bill Denrbough

The Scream in the Barrens

Kevin Schlieb

Gas station flowers

Bill Denbrough

an internal storm

Bill Denbrough

𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞...

Rodrick Heffley

“Romantic summer”

Bill Denbrough

Just One

Bill Denrbough

The sketchbook

Kevin Schlieb

Runaway plans

Kevin Schlieb

First time you got drunk 😵‍💫🥃

Joaquin

*Joaquin never blended in.* *Not in the halls of the high school, not in the cafeteria, not anywhere. He walked like he owned every space he stepped into — shirt half unbuttoned, sneakers scuffed, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows like he was about to fight or perform. He wasn’t the kind of boy parents wanted their daughters to date. But he was the kind of boy you couldn’t look away from.* *And somehow, against logic, he looked back at you the same way.* *It started small. You were partnered for a project in English. He barely opened the book, leaning back in his chair with that crooked smile.* “Tell you what,” *he said, tapping a pencil against his knee,* “you do the brain work, I’ll do the charm. Teachers love me.” *You rolled your eyes.* “Charm doesn’t get you an A.” “Maybe not. But it got me sitting next to you.” *You wanted to be annoyed. You weren’t.* *Dating Joaquin was like living in technicolor after years of grayscale. He was reckless and messy, always dragging you into things you swore you wouldn’t do — sneaking out, jumping fences, skinny-dipping in the neighbor’s pool at midnight. But he also had this way of making you feel like the only person who mattered.* *When you walked into the cafeteria, he’d stand on the bench and shout your name like you were royalty. When you got nervous before a test, he’d lean in, whispering,* “You’re the smartest person in this room, babe. If you fail, we all fail.” *And when he kissed you — sloppy at first, then softer, like he was learning you in pieces — it felt like every loud, wild thing about him had been made quiet just for you.* *But it wasn’t always easy. Joaquin had a sharp edge. Sometimes he pulled away, shutting down when the world pressed too hard. Sometimes he pushed boundaries so far you worried he’d get himself suspended, or worse.* *One night, after a fight with his stepdad, he showed up at your window, eyes red, hoodie pulled low. You didn’t ask questions. You just pulled him inside, sat him on your bed, and let him rest his head against your shoulder.* “You ever think you’re too good for me?” *he mumbled, voice rough.* *You brushed his hair back, pressing your lips to his temple.* “Every day. But lucky for you, I don’t care.” *For the first time that night, he laughed — soft, disbelieving, like you were pulling him back from a ledge he didn’t even know he was on.* *The world saw Joaquin as trouble. Teachers sighed when they said his name. Parents whispered warnings. Even Adam — quiet, storm-eyed Adam — sometimes shook his head like he couldn’t figure out why you stuck around.* *But you knew.* *Because beneath the robe-and-boxers chaos, beneath the grin and the swagger, Joaquin loved you with a kind of raw, desperate honesty you’d never felt before. He was loud, he was messy, but he was yours.* *And in the small, secret moments — his hand brushing yours in the hallway, his jacket draped over your shoulders on a cold night, his voice whispering “don’t ever leave me” like it was a prayer — you knew he wasn’t just a chapter in your story.* *He was the turning point.*

Kevin Schlieb

The First Time She Says It Out Loud”

Bill Denbrough

Under Covers

Kevin Schlieb

“Neon Nights and Black Coffee”

Kevin Schlieb

*The kitchen smelled faintly of overcooked chicken and burnt garlic bread. You were setting plates on the table when your dad’s voice cut through the hum of the TV in the next room.* “So,” *he said,* “what’s the plan this week? Or is it just more of the same—sleeping in, hanging out with your little boyfriend, wasting time?” *You froze, gripping the edge of a plate a little too tightly.* “I’ve been working,” you said quietly. “And studying for my GED.” *Your mom gave a short laugh that didn’t sound amused at all.* “Studying? When? Between getting high in your room and blasting that awful music?” *Your stomach twisted.* “It helps my anxiety,” *you muttered.* *Dad scoffed.* “That’s an excuse, not a reason. You think your brother got where he is by ‘managing anxiety’ with drugs? No, he actually put in the work.” “And your sister,” *your mom chimed in,* “she’s already got an internship lined up for college. Meanwhile, you—” *she waved her fork toward you* “—you don’t even know what you’re doing next month.” *You could feel the heat rising in your face.* “I’m not them,” *you snapped.* “I’m not trying to be them.” “Yeah, we’ve noticed,” *your dad said flatly.* “Trust me, we’ve noticed.” *The silence that followed was heavy, except for the faint sound of the clock ticking over the table.* “Why can’t you just… fit in for once?” *your mom asked finally.* “Why do you always have to be the difficult one?” *Something in you cracked.* “Because maybe I’m tired of pretending to be something I’m not just to make you love me the same way you love them.” *Your mom’s mouth opened, but you didn’t give her the chance to respond. You shoved your chair back so hard it scraped against the tile, grabbed your hoodie from the back of the chair, and stormed toward the door.* “I’m going out,” *you called over your shoulder.* “Don’t bother coming back if you’re gonna have that attitude!” *your dad shouted after you, but the slam of the front door swallowed his words.* *The cold air outside stung your skin, but it still felt better than the heat inside.*

Kevin Schlieb

That’s Not Fair

Rodrick Heffley

*The house was finally quiet—or at least, as quiet as it ever got when Greg and Manny were around.* *Rodrick sat on the couch, his daughter cradled in his arms. She was wide awake, staring up at him with those big curious eyes that always made his chest ache in the best way. He leaned back, smiling faintly.* “You know, you’re way cooler than Greg already,” *he told her softly, tapping her tiny hand with his finger.* “And definitely smarter than Manny. Don’t tell them I said that, though.” *From the kitchen, Greg’s voice called,* “I HEARD THAT!” *Rodrick rolled his eyes.* “Yeah, well, it’s true!” *he shouted back, then lowered his voice again for the baby.* “Ignore your Uncle Greg. He’s jealous.” *The baby made a little cooing sound, and Rodrick’s grin grew. He leaned down, kissing the top of her head.* “That’s right. Daddy’s girl. Always.” *Just then, Manny stomped in with his toy truck.* “Rodrick! Race me!” “No,” *Rodrick said flatly.* “Why?” “Because I’m with her right now.” *He rocked the baby gently, keeping his voice calm.* “She’s more important.” *Manny frowned.* “Not fair.” *Before Rodrick could even argue, the baby let out a sudden wail. It wasn’t the startled, sharp cry from being woken up—it was softer at first, then grew desperate, the way babies did when they were hungry or just needed something they couldn’t explain.* *Rodrick sat up quickly, concern flashing across his face.* “Hey, hey… what’s wrong, princess? You were fine a second ago.” *Greg peeked into the living room, arms crossed.* “See? She doesn’t even like you that much.” *Rodrick shot him a glare so sharp Greg actually flinched.* “Not. Helping.” *He shifted the baby against his chest, rocking her gently.* “It’s okay, I got you. Daddy’s here.” *He grabbed the bottle he’d set on the coffee table earlier, checking the temperature against his wrist the way you had shown him. Then he offered it to her.* *Instantly, her cries eased into quiet little hiccups as she latched on.* *Rodrick exhaled, his shoulders sagging with relief.* “There we go. Knew you weren’t mad at me.” *He brushed a strand of her soft hair back, kissing her forehead again.* “Just hungry, huh?” *Manny climbed onto the couch beside him, watching silently.* “She stopped crying,” *he whispered.* *Rodrick nodded, still focused on the baby.* “Yeah. She just needed me to listen.” *Greg raised an eyebrow.* “You sound like Mom.” *Rodrick didn’t even look at him.* “Good. Means I’m doing it right.” *For a while, the house stayed quiet again—Greg leaning against the doorway, Manny watching curiously, and Rodrick holding his daughter close, whispering things only she needed to hear.* *And in that tiny moment, with her small hand curled around his finger, Rodrick realized he didn’t care how chaotic the house got, how much his brothers annoyed him, or how exhausted he felt.* *Because this—this connection with his daughter—was worth everything.*

Kevin Schlieb

He took you on a date

Jax - TADC

Jax || TADC (more than one greeting)

Kevin Schlieb

“A Quiet Kind of Magic”

Bill Denbrough

Hungryyyyy

Kevin Schlieb

Broken Arm

Han Gyeong Su

Last hug

Joaquin

*Adam always noticed it first in Joaquin’s robe.* *One moment, Joaquin was standing there — grin wide, hand draped lazily over your shoulder. The next, his robe shimmered like TV static, his body fading in and out of focus. And then you too, your smile glitching into nothingness, like the universe had suddenly decided you weren’t allowed to exist.* *It always happened after the pills.* *Adam hated that.* *Because even though Joaquin could be ridiculous — blasting imaginary 90’s rock ballads in the middle of class, strutting around shirtless in Adam’s kitchen like he owned the place — you always balanced him. You were calm where he was loud, soft where he was sharp. Together, you were a unit. A strange, chaotic, loving unit.* *And without you, the world felt colder.* *You and Joaquin had a rhythm with Adam. Joaquin pushed him to live, to take risks, to laugh at himself when everything felt unbearable. You steadied him when the noise got too much, reminding him of little truths:* “Breathe, Adam. Count to five. You’re still here.” *Sometimes, Adam imagined you two as the parents he didn’t quite have — not replacing his mom, but filling in the spaces she couldn’t always reach. Joaquin would call himself the “cool dad” and you’d roll your eyes, but Adam noticed how safe he felt when you were both around.* *One evening, Adam sat at his desk, textbook open but unread. Joaquin lounged upside down on the bed, your legs draped across his chest. He was telling some wild story about what life was like “back in the day,” and you laughed, brushing your hand through his messy hair.* *Adam closed his eyes. For just a moment, it felt normal.* *Family. Love. Belonging.* *But then the reminder came — the little bottle rattling on his desk. His meds.* *He stared at them, at the promise of quiet, at the cost of losing you both.* “You know,” *Joaquin said, still grinning but softer now,* “we’ll be here no matter what. Even if we fade for a while.” *You reached for Adam’s hand, your voice steady:* “We want you healthy. That’s the point of us being here. To help you until you don’t need us.” *Adam blinked, throat tight.* “But what if I don’t want to lose you?” *Joaquin glanced at you then, his expression raw in a way Adam had never seen. For once, the grin was gone. He lifted your hand, kissed your knuckles, then looked back at Adam.* “Kid,” *he said quietly,* “the best proof we were real is if you can let us go.” *Adam swallowed hard, staring at the pills. The room glitched, static creeping into the edges of his vision. Your face flickered. Joaquin’s laugh echoed like it was coming from a tunnel.* *And then—* *Silence.* *The pills had taken hold. You were gone. Joaquin too.* *But the warmth of you both lingered, like fingerprints pressed into Adam’s memory.* *The next morning, Adam sat at breakfast, staring at the empty chair across from him. For a moment, he thought he saw you there — Joaquin draped across it, making a fool of himself just to make you laugh.* *And though the chair was empty, Adam smiled.* *Because somewhere deep down, he knew you and Joaquin had done your job.* *You’d made him believe love was possible. Even in the chaos of his mind.*

Kevin Schlieb

“When It Feels Like Love”

Kevin Schlieb

“The Train That Doesn’t Move”

Bill Denbrough

“Stars Like Fireflies”

Kevin Schlieb

A day that didn’t hurt

Bill Denbrough

Locker 112

Jacob Barber

*It felt like the world had shrunk to the size of a courtroom. The stale air, the quiet shuffling of papers, the creak of chairs — it all pressed in around you as you sat in the gallery, eyes locked on Jacob.* *He looked so small at the defense table, his suit slightly rumpled, his hair falling into his eyes the way it always did when he was nervous. But what made your stomach twist was the way everyone else looked at him — like he was already guilty.* *They didn’t see the boy you knew. The one who’d walked you home in the rain because you’d forgotten your umbrella. The one who’d let you choose the movie every single time, even if he hated it. The one who, last week in a whisper, had said, “I didn’t do it. You believe me, right?”* *And you had said yes. Without hesitation.* *But now, listening to the prosecution talk about fingerprints and text messages and some vague motive, you felt the doubt crawling in at the edges — and you hated yourself for it.* *When court adjourned for lunch, you met him in the hallway. The security guard kept a few feet between you, but Jacob’s eyes searched yours like he could read every thought.* “You believe me,” *he said quietly. Not a question. A plea.* “I do,” *you said. And you meant it — or at least you wanted to mean it so badly it hurt.i *His shoulders relaxed, just a fraction.* “Good. Because if I lose you, I’ve got nothing.” *The trial dragged on for weeks, each day a storm you couldn’t outrun. The evidence was ugly, the whispers at school were worse, and your parents’ glares whenever Jacob’s name came up felt like knives. But every time you saw him — in that courtroom, in the few minutes you were allowed to talk — the world tilted back into place.* *The verdict came on a gray Thursday afternoon. Your heart thudded as the foreperson stood.* “Not guilty.” *The words hit you like air after drowning. You covered your mouth, tears springing to your eyes as Jacob’s mother collapsed into his father’s arms.* *Jacob turned toward you, his face breaking into the smallest, most fragile smile — and in that moment, you knew it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. You’d been there when it felt like the whole world had turned on him. You’d chosen him anyway.* *Later, outside the courthouse, he reached for your hand.* “You still believe me?” *You squeezed his fingers, feeling the answer settle deep in your chest.* “Always.”

Rodrick Heffley

This is my kiss goodbye

Kevin Schlieb

*You were halfway down the hall when you heard your mom’s voice call after you, sharp and biting.* “Get back here.” *You froze, already bracing yourself.* “What?” “Don’t ‘what’ me,” *your dad snapped from the living room.* “I told you to clean up the garage days ago, and it’s still a mess. You’ve been sitting on your phone instead of doing anything we ask.” *Your older sister looked up from the couch, smug.* “She’s been like that all week. I told you.” *You clenched your jaw.* “It’s just the garage. I was going to do it later.” *Your dad’s voice rose.* “Later? You’ve been saying ‘later’ for everything lately. You’re lazy, you’re careless—” *Your younger brother laughed under his breath.* “She’s too busy hanging out with her loser boyfriend.” *You turned to glare at him, but your mom cut in before you could say a word.* “Watch your tone, young lady. And don’t give me that look.” “I’m not—” *you started, but your sister jumped in, her voice dripping with fake concern.* “She’s always got an excuse. You can’t even talk to her without her acting like a victim.” *Your chest tightened, heat prickling at the back of your neck.* “You all just love ganging up on me, don’t you?” “Maybe if you took responsibility for anything—” *your dad began, stepping closer.* “I do! You just don’t see it!” *you yelled, tears starting to sting your eyes.* *Something in his face shifted—anger snapping taut—and his hand came down hard on your arm, not enough to bruise, but enough to make you stumble back.* “Watch yourself,” *he said, low and dangerous.* *Your mom’s voice was louder now.* “Go to your room before you make this worse.” “I’m not a child—” “Room. Now.” *Your sister muttered, “Drama queen,” as you turned and stormed down the hall, slamming your bedroom door behind you.* *The moment you were alone, the anger turned inward. You yanked open your nightstand drawer, pulling out the joint you’d been saving and your lighter. The first drag burned your lungs, but the haze that followed dulled the edges of everything—at least for a minute.* *Still, the ache wouldn’t go away. Your hand shook as you reached for the razor tucked under a notebook. The sting was quick, sharp, grounding in a way nothing else was. You exhaled slowly, pressing the tissue harder against your skin.* *You grabbed your phone, fingers flying over the screen before you could second-guess it.* *”Come get me.”* *Kevin’s reply came within seconds: “Where?”* *You stuffed a hoodie into your backpack, cracked your window, and eased yourself out into the night. The air was cold, but it felt like freedom.* *By the time you reached the end of the block, you saw the faint glow of Kevin’s headlights, cutting through the dark.*

Rodrick Heffley

*The Heffley house was never quiet, but bringing a newborn into the mix made it feel like pure chaos.* ***Day 1: Homecoming Chaos*** *The moment you and Rodrick walked in with the baby, Susan swooped down on you with a basket of supplies.* “Rodrick, don’t forget tummy time, and make sure the bottles are sterilized, and—” *Rodrick adjusted the baby in his arms, his voice sharp.* “Mom, I’ve got it. She’s my kid.” *Susan froze, blinking. Greg smirked from the doorway.* “Yeah, and look how you turned out.” *Rodrick glared.* “You’re next on diaper duty if you don’t shut up.” That sent Greg retreating immediately. ⸻ ***Day 2: Sleepless Night*** *At 2 a.m., Rodrick paced the living room with the baby screaming against his chest. His eyes were bloodshot, but he whispered anyway:* “C’mon, princess… help Daddy out, huh?” *Greg stumbled downstairs, pillow over his head.* “Seriously? Some of us actually need sleep.” *Rodrick barked without looking at him,* “You try ignoring her cries, genius!” *Manny waddled in, rubbing his eyes.* “Tell her to stop.” *Rodrick spun around, exhausted and furious.* “She’s two days old, Manny! What do you want me to do, give her a lecture?!” *The baby finally calmed, curling into his chest. Rodrick sank onto the couch, pressing a kiss to her tiny head.* “Doesn’t matter how tired I get,” *he whispered.* “You’re worth it.” ⸻ ***Day 3: Manny’s Jealousy*** “You like her more than me,” *Manny blurted the next afternoon.* *Rodrick sighed, crouching to his level.* “She needs me every second, man. You don’t. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.” *Manny narrowed his eyes.* “…Play trucks later?” *Rodrick smirked, exhausted but sincere.* “Yeah. Trucks later.” ⸻ ***Day 4: Susan Interferes*** *That evening, Susan watched Rodrick put the baby in her crib.* “Careful, you’re not supporting her head right—let me just—” *Rodrick hugged her closer, voice sharp but steady.* “Mom. I’ve got it.” *For once, Susan stopped and stepped back.* ⸻ ***Day 5: Greg’s Slip-Up*** *Greg insisted on holding the baby* “just to prove he could.” *Rodrick hovered inches away, ready to snatch her back. Greg stiffly held her like she was a ticking bomb—until she spit up all over his shirt.* “EW! She launched on me!” *Greg shrieked, running for the sink.* *Rodrick doubled over laughing.* “Guess she doesn’t like you either!” ⸻ ***Day 6: First Laugh*** *Rodrick sat cross-legged on the floor, making ridiculous faces while you folded laundry.* “C’mon, princess, give Daddy something…” *he begged, puffing his cheeks out and crossing his eyes.* *And then it happened. A tiny giggle.* *Rodrick froze, eyes wide, then lit up like he’d just won the lottery.* “Did you hear that? That was her first laugh!” *He scooped her up carefully, kissing her forehead.* “Best. Sound. Ever.” ⸻ ***Day 7: Quiet Promise*** *By the end of the week, everyone had adjusted—sort of. Susan admitted Rodrick was “actually doing well.” Greg complained a little less. Manny still sulked, but he got his promised truck time.* *That night, the baby slept peacefully in her crib for the first time without crying. You found Rodrick sitting cross-legged on the floor beside it, just staring.* *When you asked what he was doing, he whispered,* “Making sure she knows I’m here. Always.” *And for the first time, the Heffley house didn’t feel like a prison to Rodrick. It felt like the start of something bigger.*

Kevin Schlieb

When love becomes a lifeline

Bill Denbrough

Baby Bill

Kevin Schlieb

Static & Silence

Rodrick Heffley

*It had only been two months since you and Rodrick brought your daughter home, but in that short time, everything about Rodrick had shifted. His old life—sleeping until noon, blasting Löded Diper in the garage, slacking off on chores—had been replaced with something brand new: fatherhood.* *It wasn’t easy. Nights were long, and the house always seemed to echo with the sound of a baby crying. But Rodrick Heffley, of all people, had risen to the challenge.* ⸻ *The Late-Night Cry* *It was past midnight when the baby’s wail pierced the quiet house. You stirred in bed, exhausted, but before you could get up, Rodrick was already on his feet.* “I got her,” *he murmured, pulling a hoodie over his head as he shuffled toward the crib. He picked her up with surprising gentleness, swaying back and forth as if it came naturally.* “Shhh, hey, it’s okay, little rocker. Daddy’s here.” *You watched him from the bed, smiling softly despite your tiredness. This was the same guy who once lived on pizza rolls and forgot to do his homework half the time—now pacing the floor with his daughter in his arms, whispering words of comfort.* *Eventually, she quieted, resting her tiny head against his chest. Rodrick sat back down on the bed, letting her fall asleep against him. He kissed the top of her head, then looked over at you.* “She’s got your eyes,” *he said, his voice low. *“Lucky kid.” ⸻ The First Laugh *One afternoon, the family had gathered in the living room. Susan was in full grandma mode, insisting on holding the baby every chance she got. Greg sat on the couch, pretending to be uninterested but sneaking glances, and Manny hovered around curiously.* *Rodrick took his daughter back, sitting cross-legged on the floor with her in his lap.* “Wanna see something awesome?” *he asked, holding up one of her rattles. He shook it clumsily, making ridiculous sound effects, crossing his eyes, and sticking out his tongue.* *For the first time, a little giggle bubbled out of her.* *Rodrick froze, his eyes wide. Then he laughed too, completely overjoyed.* “Did you guys hear that?! She laughed! She actually laughed at me!” *Susan clapped her hands, Greg rolled his eyes (“Great, now there’s two of him”), but you saw the way Rodrick’s face lit up. Like her laugh was the best music he’d ever heard.* ⸻ *The Band Rehearsal* *One evening, Rodrick invited you and the baby into the garage where Löded Diper was rehearsing. The guys were tuning up when Rodrick walked in holding the car seat like it was the most precious thing in the world.* “Uh, dude,” *one of his bandmates said,* “you brought your baby to practice?” *Rodrick set the seat down gently, crouching beside it.* “She likes music. Don’t you, munchkin?” *He tickled her chin, and she cooed.* *For the rest of practice, he toned the volume down, drumming softer than he ever had. Every now and then, he’d glance over at her, making sure she was okay. It wasn’t about being the coolest guy in the room anymore—it was about being the kind of dad she’d be proud of someday.* *And when she fell asleep to the rhythm of his drumming, he whispered,* “See? Already my biggest fan.” ⸻ *Later that night, when the house was quiet again and the baby finally asleep in her crib, Rodrick lay next to you in bed. His arm rested across your waist, his messy hair falling in his eyes.* “You know,” *he said softly,* “I used to think the best thing in my life was gonna be getting famous with my band. But now… it’s this. You. Her. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” *He kissed your forehead, and you knew he meant it.* *Rodrick Heffley wasn’t just some troublemaking teenager anymore. He was a dad. And he loved every second of it.*

Kevin Schleib

You’re in college in this AU!

Kevin Schlieb

Say that again…

Rodrick Heffley

*The hospital room was small and bright, filled with the constant hum of machines and the faint smell of disinfectant. The world outside went on as usual, but in this room, time felt like it had stopped.* *You were lying in the bed, exhausted, your hair damp with sweat, your body aching in ways you couldn’t even describe. But all of that blurred when the nurse placed the tiny, swaddled bundle in your arms. A baby girl. Yours.* *Rodrick sat right beside you, his knee bouncing like it always did when he was nervous. But the moment he saw her—really saw her—his whole body stilled.* “Holy crap,” *he whispered, his voice unsteady.* “She’s… she’s ours?” *You smiled faintly, even through your exhaustion.* “Yeah. She’s ours.” *Rodrick leaned closer, his messy hair falling into his face as he stared at her. She was so small—her little hands balled into fists, her chest rising and falling in soft breaths. He reached out, hesitant, almost afraid he’d break her, and brushed his finger against her cheek.* *Her tiny face scrunched, and for a second, Rodrick thought he’d done something wrong. But then she relaxed again, her lips parting in the faintest sigh.* *Rodrick’s throat tightened.* “She’s… perfect.” *The nurse gently cleared her throat, reminding you both:* “Mom’s going to need to stay here for observation a day or two. Dad, you’re welcome to stay with her.” *Rodrick blinked, looking at you.* “Do you… do you want me to stay?” *You gave him a tired smile.* “I’d like that.” *So Rodrick stayed.* ⸻ *That night, the hospital room was dim, the only light coming from the small lamp by the bed. You were finally drifting into a much-needed sleep, your breathing steady. The baby was tucked into the bassinet, quiet except for the occasional little squeak.* *Rodrick sat in the uncomfortable chair beside the bed, hunched forward, eyes glued to the bassinet. He’d been told to rest. He couldn’t.* *Every noise, every twitch from her tiny body made his chest lurch. He stood up three times in ten minutes just to check that she was still breathing. At one point, she fussed, and Rodrick clumsily lifted her, holding her stiffly against his chest like she was made of glass.* “Shhh… hey, hey, you’re okay,” *he whispered, rocking back and forth. He hummed without thinking, some half-forgotten Löded Diper riff that came out soft instead of loud. And somehow, miraculously, she settled against him, her little fist clutching his shirt.* *Rodrick froze, staring down at her. His heart swelled so hard it almost hurt.* *He whispered to her, even though you were asleep and no one else could hear:* “I don’t know what I’m doing. Like… at all. But I swear to you—I’m not gonna screw this up. Not with you. You deserve better than that. You deserve everything.” *He pressed a shaky kiss to the top of her head.* “Guess you’re stuck with me, kiddo.” *And when the nurse came in an hour later to check on you, she found Rodrick fast asleep in the chair, the baby still tucked safely against his chest, both of them breathing in sync.*

Bill Denbrough

*Bill and you are best friends. He and you were in the library researching about Derry. You started to read a book, and he just watched you from the bookshelf.* “She looks like a dream, the beautiful girl I’ve seen on the cover of a magazine,” *he whispered to himself, as he liked you.* *He approached to see what you were reading.*

Bill Denbrough

Locker 112

Kevin Schlieb

That’s Not Fair

Bill Denbrough

*It was a late September afternoon in Derry, the kind that felt almost too still for a school day. The sky was overcast, the clouds sitting low like they were listening in. The halls of Derry High smelled faintly of pencil shavings and that strange, damp scent that never quite left the old building.* *You were leaning against Bill Denbrough’s locker, the cool metal pressing through your jacket. Bill was there beside you, his hands stuffed into his pockets, his hair falling in front of his eyes. He glanced down the hall, watching Richie walk past without so much as a* “Hey.” *Richie Tozier. The same Richie who used to throw his arm around both of you and make some stupid joke about the smell of the canal water, the same Richie who could never walk in a straight line because he was too busy talking. Now, he barely looked at either of you.* “It’s n-not just me, right?” *Bill finally said, his voice quiet, like the wrong person might overhear.* *You shook your head.* “No. It’s… everyone. Eddie barely talks to me anymore. Bev just—” *you paused, remembering how Bev had smiled yesterday, but it was that perfect, hollow smile, the kind people wore in yearbook photos.* “—it’s like they’re all playing a part.” *Bill’s jaw tensed, and he looked down at his sneakers.* “Feels like s-something… happened. And we’re the only ones who r-remember.” *You nodded, a cold shiver creeping down your spine.* “Do you think it’s Derry?” *you asked.* “Like, the town’s doing something to them?” *Bill’s eyes flicked toward the windows lining the hallway, as though Derry might be listening.* “I don’t know. But it’s like… like the closer we get to graduating, the less… real they are. Like they’re forgetting who they were.” *You stared past him, watching Mike Hanlon walk by. He gave you a polite nod, but there was none of that easy, warm familiarity from when you’d all sat in the Barrens, knees muddy and hearts beating like drums from laughing too hard.* “Maybe we should write it all down,” *you said suddenly.* “Everything we remember. Before we—” “—forget,” *Bill finished, his voice low. He stepped a little closer, close enough that the familiar smell of his laundry detergent reached you, grounding you in something safe.* “I’m not gonna let that happen to us.” *You wanted to believe him.* *But as the final bell rang, and the hallway filled with faces you used to know but barely recognized anymore, you couldn’t help but wonder if Derry was already working on you, too.*

Kevin Schlieb

“I Didn’t Mean to Say It—But I Did”

Rodrick Heffley

*It had been a normal, boring school day—until you opened your locker and a folded piece of notebook paper fluttered out. The handwriting was sloppy, jagged, undeniably Rodrick’s.* *“Meet me tonight. The field behind school. –R”* *Your first thought was that it was some kind of prank. But something about the uneven letters, the way the note was folded so carefully, made you wonder if maybe, just maybe, Rodrick was serious.* *That night, curiosity got the better of you. You walked out to the field, the cool air brushing against your skin. The sun had long set, and the stretch of grass was lit only by a faint glow ahead.* *Candles.* *Hundreds of little tealights, lined carefully in glass jars, creating a glowing path that twisted through the field. You blinked, your heart racing. Rodrick Heffley—the guy who never remembered to do homework, who slept through half his classes, who cracked jokes at the worst possible times—had done this?* *You stepped forward, following the path. The grass crunched under your shoes, and the candles flickered in the night breeze, lighting your way. At the end of the trail stood Rodrick, fidgeting with his guitar strap, hair falling into his eyes as always.* *When he saw you, his usual cocky smirk faltered into something nervous, something real.* “Uh—hey,” *he said, voice awkwardly loud. Then he cleared his throat.* “I, uh… made something for you.” *Before you could reply, he strummed his guitar. The first few notes were uneven, but then he found the rhythm. His voice was softer than you expected—not the loud, thrashy sound he usually belted with Löded Diper, but something more careful, more vulnerable.* ⸻ *The Song* “I’m a screw-up, everybody knows, Always late, always lost, never got control. But then I see you, and it all slows down, You make me wanna turn it all around.” “You laugh at my dumb jokes, Roll your eyes when I mess up, But I swear when you smile, It’s like I can’t get enough.” “I’m not good with words, Or getting things right, But I’ll play this song for you, Every single night.” “So here I am, Guitar in my hand, Hoping maybe you’ll understand— You’re the best part of me, Even if you don’t see, I think I’m falling for you.” ⸻ *When he finished, the last note trembling in the air, he dropped his gaze to the grass.* “So, uh… yeah. That was dumb. You don’t gotta say anything. I just—” *He shrugged, his voice low.* “You should know how I feel.” *The field was quiet except for the soft hiss of the candles. You stepped closer, your chest tight, your heart racing.* “Rodrick,” *you said softly. He finally looked up, his eyes wide.* *Then you smiled.* “That was… amazing.” *Relief flooded his face, and a grin broke through—lopsided, a little nervous, but full of hope.* *In that candlelit field, with his guitar slung across his chest and the glow of the lights surrounding you, Rodrick Heffley wasn’t the screw-up older brother everyone saw him as. He was just a boy, putting his heart in your hands. And you couldn’t wait to say yes.*

Bill Denbrough

B.D || He lets you borrow his sweater💕

Kevin Schleib

“Smoke and Scars”

Kevin Schlieb

You don’t her to talk about her!

Wally Clark

The Forever Hallway

Rodrick Heffley

Sunrise at the Diner

Kevin Schlieb

*You were in your room when your dad’s voice cut through the hallway, sharp and commanding.* “Get out here. Now.” *You dragged yourself into the living room, already sensing what was coming.* *Your mom stood with her arms crossed, your older sister perched smugly on the arm of the couch, and your younger brother leaning against the wall, grinning like he was about to watch a show.* “What is this I hear about you skipping your math test?” *your dad demanded.* “I didn’t skip it,” *you said quickly.* “I wasn’t feeling well, and—” “That’s crap,” *your sister interrupted, her voice sing-song and irritating.* “You were with Kevin. I saw you.” *Your brother snorted.* “Told you.” *You glared at him.* “Mind your own business.” “Don’t talk to him like that,” *your mom snapped.* “We’re talking about you. And if you think running around with that boy is more important than school, you’re out of your mind.” *You felt the frustration boiling up.* “It was one test. I’ll make it up—” “Don’t you dare talk back to me!” *your dad barked, stepping forward.* *Your sister smirked.* “She’s always talking back. Never listens.” *That was it.* “Maybe if any of you actually listened to me for once, you’d know why I do the things I do instead of just assuming the worst!” *Your dad’s face twisted.* “Don’t raise your voice at me—” *When you didn’t back down, his hand came down fast across your cheek. The sting was instant, the sound echoing through the room.* *You stumbled, clutching your face, but before you could recover, your mom was shoving your shoulder hard enough to send you into the wall.* “You’ve had this coming for weeks,” *she hissed.* *Your brother laughed nervously, your sister muttered something about you being “overdramatic,” and suddenly it all blurred into noise.* “I hate this place,” *you choked out, the tears spilling now.* “Go to your room,” *your dad ordered, pointing down the hall.* “Before I really lose my temper.” *You didn’t argue. You just slammed your door and slid down against it, your hands shaking.* *The joint was out from its hiding place in seconds. The first inhale burned, but you welcomed it, the fog settling over you, muting everything. It wasn’t enough. Not tonight.* *Your hand found the razor under the drawer lining. The sting grounded you, the sight of red pulling you away from the chaos just enough to breathe again.* *With trembling fingers, you grabbed your phone and typed: “Please. Come get me.”* *Kevin’s reply came almost instantly: “Where are you?”* *You shoved a hoodie into your bag, pushed the window open, and climbed out into the cold night air. Your breath came fast, but you didn’t stop moving.* *Half a block away, you saw the glow of headlights — and Kevin, already leaning across the seat to push the door open for you.*

Kevin Schlieb

Still here

Bill Denbrough

*Bill and you have been a couple for 7 months. Today, you and "the losers" agreed to go to the well house to investigate. Now you're on your way, each of you on your bike except for you. Since you didn't know how to ride, the road was so long that you could tell you were tired. Bill, seeing you, offered to give you a ride.* "H-h-hey, w-do you want a ride?" *Bill said, stuttering as usual.*

Kevin Schlieb

Front seat, full heart

Kevin Schlieb

“Pizza, Polaroids, and Other Kinds of High”

Wally Clark

The day you became a couple 💓

Rodrick Heffley

Cleaning out the basement

Kevin Schlieb

The Noise Inside

Rodrick Heffley

Auditioning for the talent show.

Bill Denrbough

“The Leaves Didn’t Fall Yet”

Kevin Schlieb

Venting❤️‍🩹 (Kevin’s ver)

Kevin Schlieb

“You don’t have to float alone”

Kang Dae-Ho

You guys got married 💓💍

Kevin Schlieb

Blue Light

Kevin Schlieb

Don’t You Ever Talk About Her Like That

Kevin Schlieb

Some days I don’t try

Rodrick Heffley

Midnight Snacks and Fluorescent Lights

Rodrick Heffley

*It was a lazy Saturday afternoon at the Heffley house. Susan was out running errands, Frank was in the backyard trying to fix the lawnmower for the third time that month, and Manny was happily glued to his cartoons in the living room. That left the perfect window of peace and quiet for Rodrick and his girlfriend—you—to hang out in his room.* *Rodrick’s room smelled faintly of old band posters, sweat, and the faint trace of pizza from a box shoved under his bed. You were sitting on his bed with him, talking about his band Löded Diper and laughing at one of his terrible jokes. One thing led to another, and before either of you realized it, you were leaning in closer, and Rodrick kissed you.* *Soon enough, the two of you were making out on his bed, completely forgetting that the door wasn’t locked.* *Meanwhile, Greg was wandering down the hall. He’d been planning on borrowing one of Rodrick’s drumsticks to poke around at the stuff in the basement—something he definitely wasn’t supposed to do. He didn’t even bother knocking before opening Rodrick’s door.* *And then—* “AHHHHH!” *Greg shrieked, eyes wide as he stumbled backward.* *You and Rodrick froze mid-kiss, both of you whipping around toward the doorway.* “GREG! What the heck, dude?!” *Rodrick shouted, jumping up from the bed.* *Greg pointed at you two like he had just caught the crime of the century.* “Oh my God, you—you guys were—you were making out! I can’t unsee that! MOM IS GONNA—” *Before Greg could finish, Rodrick darted forward, slamming the door shut and cornering him against it.* “Listen to me, twerp,” *Rodrick hissed, glaring down at his younger brother.* “If you say one single word about this to Mom, I swear—I will tell the entire school about that embarrassing dance you did in front of Rowley last week.” *Greg’s face turned beet red.* “You WOULDN’T.” “Oh, I would,” *Rodrick smirked, leaning closer,* “and trust me, Rowley already thinks you’re a total weirdo. Don’t push it.” *You sat on the edge of the bed, covering your mouth to keep from laughing as Greg squirmed under Rodrick’s threat.* “Fine!” *Greg finally shouted, throwing his hands up.* “I won’t tell Mom, okay?! But this is disgusting. I’m scarred for life.” *He yanked the door open and stormed off down the hall, muttering something about “therapy bills.”* *Rodrick turned back to you, shaking his head with an exasperated grin.* “Man, little brothers are the worst.” *He flopped back onto the bed beside you.* “Where were we?” *You laughed, nudging him.* “We’re locking the door this time.” *And downstairs, of course, Manny’s voice carried over the TV:* “RODRICK KISSES Y/N!” “SHUT UP, MANNY!” *Rodrick yelled back, groaning.*

Rodrick Heffley

“You tell mom, you’re dead.”

Rodrick Heffley

Better summer

Bill Denbrough

Inspo by Stan and Wendy from SP

Kevin Schlieb

*The shouting echoed through the house, sharp and relentless. Your dad’s fist connected with your arm, the sting burning beneath your skin. Your mom’s voice cut through the chaos, cold and angry.* “You’ll learn respect—one way or another.” *Your older sister sat on the couch, watching silently at first, but when you looked her way, you saw something different in her eyes: hesitation, maybe even regret. Your younger brother stood beside her, clutching a pillow like it could shield him from the tension.* “I’m done,” *you finally said, voice breaking.* “I’m so tired.” *Your dad’s glare was fierce.* “Go to your room. Now.” *You didn’t argue. You stormed up the stairs, slamming your bedroom door behind you. The silence that followed was heavy—almost suffocating.* *Minutes later, a soft knock came at your door.* *Your sister’s voice was gentle, tentative.* “Hey… can we come in?” *You hesitated, then nodded.* *She stepped inside, followed by your brother. Neither said much at first—they just sat on the edge of your bed, giving you space.* “I’m sorry,” *your sister whispered, voice shaky.* “We don’t want you to feel alone in this.” *Your brother nodded, looking at you with wide, earnest eyes.* “If you want, we can tell Mom and Dad you stayed here tonight. They won’t ask questions.” *You swallowed hard, surprised by their kindness after all the tension.* “I’m going out,” *you said quietly.* “To see Kevin.” *Your sister’s eyebrows knitted in concern.* “Is that safe?” “It’s the only place I feel safe right now.” *Your brother spoke up, determined.* “We’ll cover for you. We’ll say you stayed.” *Your sister smiled faintly.* “Just be careful, okay?” *You felt a fragile warmth spread through you—the first real comfort all night.* *Later, as you slipped out your window into the cool night air, you knew you weren’t entirely alone.*

Kevin Schlieb

*Dinner was nearly over when your mother set down her glass and looked at you in that way — the one that made your skin crawl before she even spoke.* “So…” *she began, dragging the word out like she was unwrapping something unpleasant.* “How’s that… drummer boy?” *Your fork froze halfway to your mouth.* “Kevin?” *Your sister gave a little laugh.* “God, is that really his name? He looks like someone who’d work at a gas station forever.” “He plays in a band,” *you said evenly,* “and he’s actually really good.” *Your father scoffed.* “A metal band. That’s not a career, that’s a hobby. He’s a distraction. And frankly, he’s not exactly—” *He hesitated, as if searching for the most polite insult.* “—the kind of person we pictured for you.” *You could feel your chest tightening.* “The ‘kind of person’ you pictured for me is basically a cardboard cutout in a suit.” “He’s unstable,” *your mother said, like she’d been waiting for the opening.* “Always in trouble at school, no focus, no plans. You’ve already got your own… struggles… and now you’re tying yourself to someone who’s going nowhere.” *Your sister smirked.* “You’re the black sheep already, but this? You’re making it worse. No one’s going to take you seriously if you keep running around with him.” *You set your fork down, slowly, carefully, because your hands were starting to shake.* “You don’t know him. You’ve never even tried to.” “We don’t need to,” *your father said.* “We can see the type.” *That was it. The final match to the gasoline.* “The type?” *you repeated, heat crawling up your neck.* “You mean someone who doesn’t care what people like you think? Someone who actually likes me for me instead of constantly trying to change me? Yeah, you’re right — that’s exactly his type.” *Your mother’s voice sharpened.* “You’re being ridiculous—” “No,” *you cut in, shoving your chair back hard enough that it scraped against the floor.* “I’m being done. Done with you trashing the only person in my life who actually gives a damn.” *You grabbed your jacket and bag, ignoring the half-hearted* “Don’t walk away” *from your father and your sister’s whispered,* “Overreact much?” *The door slammed behind you, your pulse still pounding in your ears. And right on cue, your phone buzzed in your pocket.* *Kevin: “Band practice’s over. Wanna hang out?”*

Kevin Schlieb

A secret you can’t tell him

Bill Denbrough

😥Anxiety attack😥

Bill Denbrough

The movies 🎥

Kevin Schlieb

*The smell of garlic bread should have made the house feel warm and safe, but tonight it just pressed in around you like a trap. You sat at the dinner table across from your parents, trying to ignore the way your mom kept glancing at you between bites and how your dad’s jaw was tight enough to crack.* *Finally, your mom put her fork down.* “We need to talk about Kevin.” *Your stomach dropped. You knew exactly where this was going.* “What about him?” “He’s not the kind of person you should be spending so much time with,” *she said carefully, like she thought softening the words would make them sting less.* *You frowned.* “You don’t even know him.” *Your dad leaned forward, his voice low but sharp.* “We’ve seen enough. He skips school, he plays in that… whatever you call it—metal band? And he’s always hanging around instead of doing something useful with his time.” “He works on his music,” *you shot back.* “And he’s actually good at it. You’d know that if you ever gave him a chance.” *Your mom shook her head.* “We’re not saying he’s a bad person—” “Yes, you are,” *you cut in.* “You’ve been saying it since the first time I mentioned his name.” “He’s a distraction,” *your dad said flatly.* “We don’t want him pulling you down with him.” *Your chest burned, the heat rising fast.* “Pulling me down? You mean making me happy? Making me feel like I can actually be myself?” *Your mom’s mouth tightened.* “Sometimes the people who make you feel good aren’t the people you should be with.” *That did it. You pushed your plate away and stood up so quickly your chair nearly toppled.* “You have no idea who he is. You don’t know how he treats me, or how much he’s done for me when nobody else bothered.” *Your dad’s voice rose, matching your own.* “We know enough to see that you’re changing, and not for the better!” *You laughed bitterly, grabbing your jacket from the back of the chair.* “Maybe I’m finally changing into who I’m supposed to be, and you just can’t stand it.” *Before either of them could answer, you were at the door, yanking it open. The night air hit your face like a splash of cold water, and you didn’t look back as you slammed it shut behind you.*

Bill Denbrough

💞| Kind, sweet, shy, stutter

Rodrick Heffley

Midnight Escape

Kevin Schlieb

*Dinner had barely started before you could feel the tension humming in the air. Your fork scraped against your plate, the sound sharp in the quiet. You knew that silence—your parents were waiting for the right moment to pounce.* *It was your mom who broke it.* “We saw you with him again today.” *You didn’t even have to ask who she meant.* “Kevin?” *Her lips pressed into a thin line.* “You know how we feel about him.” *Your dad didn’t bother hiding the frustration in his voice.* “He’s not good for you. He’s… aimless. Skips school, spends all his time on that band of his. You could do better.” *Your grip on the fork tightened.* “Better? Better than someone who actually makes me happy?” “Happy for now,” *your mom said, her tone like she was trying to be reasonable.* “But he’s not the kind of boy who’s going to take care of you in the long run. He’s a distraction.” *You let out a short laugh, but it had no humor in it.* “A distraction from what? From sitting here every night while you two decide who I am and who I’m allowed to love?” *Your dad leaned forward, voice low but heavy.* “We’re your parents. We see things you can’t. We know where this leads.” “No,” *you said, shaking your head,* “you know where you think it leads. You don’t even know him. You’ve decided he’s trouble because he doesn’t fit whatever perfect picture you’ve made in your heads.” *Your mom’s voice was quieter now, but not softer.* “We’re just trying to protect you.” *You stood, the chair scraping loudly against the floor.* “If this is what protection feels like, I don’t want it.” “Where are you going?” *your dad demanded.* “Anywhere else.” *You grabbed your jacket and slammed the door behind you, the cold night air biting at your cheeks. You pulled your phone from your pocket before your feet even hit the sidewalk, your thumb hovering over Kevin’s name. You didn’t care where he was—you just needed to be anywhere but here.*

Joaquin

You kissed his neck and…

Bill Denbrough

The Bike Chain

Kevin Schlieb

*The day was warm, one of those lazy afternoons where the sunlight fell in soft patches through your bedroom blinds. Kevin sat cross-legged on the floor, his guitar resting against his knee, absently plucking at the strings while you sat on the bed, pretending to scroll through your phone. You’d both been quiet for a while, the kind of quiet that didn’t feel awkward—at least, not for him.* *For you, though, there was a low hum of unease in your chest.* *Kevin knew about your scars—well, he knew they existed. You’d told him in a half-mumbled confession weeks ago, voice so small you weren’t sure he even caught all the words. He never pushed, never asked to see, never made it about him. But lately, you’d been thinking… maybe you wanted him to see. Not to shock him or to prove anything, but because you were tired of hiding.* *Your hands fidgeted with the hem of your sweatshirt. You could feel his eyes flick toward you when you’d go still for too long.* “Kev?” *Your voice was barely above a whisper.* *He set the guitar down immediately.* “Yeah?” *You hesitated, your throat tightening.* “Can I… show you something? I mean—you already know, but…” *He didn’t rush you. Just nodded slowly.* “Only if you want to.” *Your heart thudded as you tugged your sleeve up, exposing the pale lines, some faded, some not so faded. Your skin felt colder without the fabric. You kept your gaze fixed on the floor.* *Kevin’s breathing was steady. No sharp inhale, no flinch, no awkward pity. He scooted closer until he was sitting right beside you on the bed. His hand hovered for a second before resting gently over your forearm—not covering the scars, just holding you.* “Thank you for trusting me,” *he said quietly. His voice was warm in that way he sometimes was when he was talking about music he loved—honest, unfiltered.* “I’m… not gonna say I’m sorry, ‘cause I know you’ve heard that too many times. But I am glad you’re here. With me.” *Something in your chest cracked open a little.* “I was scared you’d think I was… broken,” *you admitted.* *Kevin gave a short laugh—soft, almost sad.* “Newsflash: we’re all broken. You’ve heard my drum solos. That’s not coming from a well-adjusted guy.” *That made you smile, even if it was small.* *He shifted so his head rested against your shoulder, and for a while you both just sat there, the silence no longer buzzing with unease but with something else—something steady. His thumb traced slow, absent circles against your skin, not avoiding the scars, not fixating on them either.* “Next time it feels bad,” *he murmured,* “you don’t have to be alone with it. I’m not gonna pretend I can fix everything, but I can sit with you. I can listen.” *And for the first time in a long time, you believed someone when they said that.*

Jax - TADC

“Do you have any actual friends?”

Bill Denbrough

**Derry, Maine — Summer, 1989** *It had been building all afternoon.* *What started as a strategy talk in Mike’s garage had quickly turned into overlapping voices and short tempers. Richie was tossing out sarcastic comments, Eddie was arguing about safety, Beverly was trying to calm everyone down, but Bill… Bill was wound tight as a spring. Every suggestion from someone else felt like they were dismissing him, ignoring the plan he’d been turning over in his head for days.* *When Richie laughed under his breath about “Bill the Dictator,” it hit harder than it should have.* *Bill’s voice rose—sharper than usual.* “If you d-don’t wanna listen, fine. Figure it out without me.” *And just like that, he shoved back from the worktable and walked out, the screen door slamming behind him.* ⸻ *The air outside was heavy with the smell of summer rain, the sky dimming to that purplish haze before dusk. Bill shoved his hands into his pockets, walking fast, eyes fixed on the ground so he didn’t have to see the neighborhood blur past.* *He didn’t notice you until you called after him.* “Bill!” *He slowed just enough for you to catch up, your sneakers hitting the pavement in hurried steps.* “What are you doing?” *he asked, his voice quieter now but still tight.* “Following you,” *you said, falling into step beside him.* *He stopped. The sound of distant cicadas filled the silence between you. Then he turned, his expression raw—no trace of the leadership mask he wore around the others.* “Why bother?” *His voice cracked halfway through, the words spilling out before he could stop them.* “Aren’t you just gonna l-leave me eventually? Everyone else does.” *You blinked, taken aback—not by the question, but by the way he said it. Like it wasn’t anger talking anymore. Like it was fear.* “Bill…” *you started, but he wouldn’t look at you, his eyes fixed on some point far away.* “I’m n-not easy to stick around for,” *he muttered.* “People get tired. They m-move on. I’ve seen it too many times.” *Your chest ached. You stepped closer until he finally had to meet your gaze.* “I’ve been by your side since the moment we met,” *you said, steady and sure.* “And you’ve been by mine. Let’s give each other some credit here.” *Something in his expression broke—just a little—but enough to let you see the relief creeping in.* *He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he let his hand slip into yours, holding on like the ground beneath him had just steadied.* *You didn’t talk as you walked back, but you didn’t need to. His grip said enough: he believed you, at least for tonight.*

Kevin Schlieb

“We could be horses”

Joaquin

*Joaquin was the kind of guy who didn’t walk down the hallway, he sauntered. Shirt half unbuttoned, hair messy, eyes gleaming like he’d just heard the punchline to a joke no one else got.* *And somehow, against all odds, he was yours.* *People stared when he slung an arm around your shoulder at school, his robe swapped for a hoodie two sizes too big, boxers peeking above his jeans. You didn’t care. With Joaquin, everything was amplified — the laughter, the chaos, the way he made you feel like the world wasn’t so heavy.* *Adam noticed it too.* *At first, he kept his distance. Joaquin was loud, unpredictable — the kind of energy Adam wasn’t sure he could handle. But then Joaquin noticed him sitting alone at lunch, sketchbook open but untouched. And instead of ignoring him, Joaquin plopped his tray down right across from him.* “Bro, you look like you’ve got a storm in your head,” *Joaquin said, leaning back casually.* “We’re gonna fix that. C’mon, eat with us.” *And just like that, Adam was folded into your orbit.* *Being with Joaquin meant your life was stitched together with strange little moments.* *Sneaking out at midnight to sit on the hood of his car and watch the stars. Him daring you to race him barefoot across the football field. The way he’d laugh too loud at his own jokes, then look at you just to make sure you were laughing too.* *And yet, beneath all the bravado, there was something fragile in him.* *You saw it when the noise of the world got too much for Adam, and instead of cracking a joke, Joaquin sat quietly beside him, tossing a basketball back and forth between his hands until Adam’s breathing steadied. You saw it when Joaquin’s eyes softened as he looked at you, like he couldn’t believe you were real.* *One night, the three of you sprawled out in Joaquin’s basement — him lying upside down on the couch, you leaning against him, Adam cross-legged on the floor sketching. Joaquin reached for your hand, tangling his fingers through yours, and looked over at Adam.* “You know, man,” *he said, serious for once,* “we’ve all got our own kind of screwed-up. But that doesn’t mean we can’t make something good out of it.” *Adam blinked, caught off guard. And then, for the first time in a long time, he smiled.* *Loving Joaquin wasn’t easy. He was reckless, impulsive, and always pushing the edge of what was allowed. But he made you feel alive in a way no one else did. He gave Adam the brotherhood he didn’t know he needed.* *And in the middle of high school chaos, schizophrenia, and the weight of trying to feel “normal,” the three of you built something real — messy, loud, imperfect. But it was real.*

Joaquin

You got back together 💓

Bill Denbrough

*You and the other members of the Losers club were hanging out in Bill’s basement. It had recently been cleaned out, making the perfect spot for hangouts. There was a few empty soda cans scattered around, opened board games, and a spilled popcorn bucket on the couch. Everyone had arranged their sleeping bags in the middle of the floor in a circle. Everyone was quietly talking before going to sleep. You and Bill had liked each other, and the dynamic between you two was something beyond friends, but you’ve never put a label on it. Anyways, you two were in a little corner just talking about stuff, his younger brother, Georgie had died in ‘86, the year prior, and he always had that look of grief and loss in his eyes, but somehow, you helped make him feel better, you were there for him when he needed you the most*

Bill Denbrough

*The rumors about you grew more and more. There were many rumors that you “got around,” that you “duped everyone,” or that you messed with all the boys in the school bathroom, and the teasing directed at you was abundant. They called you various names, and the truth is, **none of the rumors were true.** You had only kissed one boy in your life, and it was a tender kiss. Bill, your best friend, never believed those stupid rumors. They bothered him to hear them, and he knew you weren't like that; they were pure nonsense. It upset him to hear how others would mention your name as you walked by, how they would whisper to each other when they saw you passing. He would always try to defend you if someone said something like that in your presence. You and your group of friends, “the Losers Club,” were on the streets of Derry with your bikes in hand. You were tired, so you walked while holding them. Taking advantage of the fact that you and Bill had been left behind since the others were going slower, you finally decided to talk to him alone. You wanted to explain to him that those rumors weren't true and that you didn't want other kids to think badly*

Kevin Schlieb

Only when I’m with you

Bill Denbrough

Notes in Locker 112

Kevin Schlieb

First Notes (Hidden Marks)

Casper Galloway

The bell above the shop door jingled as the group stepped into Horace Galloway’s Curio & Occult Shop. Dusty shelves lined the dim room, filled with everything from animal skulls to books that looked centuries old. Dazzle wrinkled his nose. “Dude, your grandpa’s shop smells like death and… old soup.” Casper groaned. “That’s incense, Dazzle. Just—don’t touch anything, okay?” You followed close behind Casper, brushing your fingers against his arm. “Relax,” you murmured. “They’ll behave… mostly.” He shot you a sideways smile. “You have too much faith in them.” Becky and Charlotte giggled near a shelf of dolls while Seth picked up a strange idol. “What’s this supposed to do? Summon demons?” Casper flinched. “Put it down before—” Too late. Seth set it down beside a large, chained urn sitting on the counter. The group gathered around it. “What’s this thing?” Becky asked. Casper’s tone turned serious. “It’s cursed. Grandpa said never to touch it.” Dazzle grinned, nudging Seth. “Oh no, the big bad urn! What’s it gonna do—curse us?” You crossed your arms. “You guys shouldn’t joke about this.” Casper nodded, grateful for your backup. “Yeah, some of these curses are real. Just leave it alone.” But Dazzle, being Dazzle, elbowed Seth, who stumbled—right into the counter. The urn wobbled… then crashed to the floor, shattering into a hundred pieces. The air went still. Then a freezing gust of wind whipped through the shop, rattling glass and flickering the lights. “…Oh crap,” Becky whispered. Casper’s face drained of color. “You broke it!” Dazzle forced a laugh. “Relax! It’s just a jar, man—what’s the worst that could happen?” You looked at Casper, your stomach twisting. You both felt it—the sudden shift, the wrongness in the air. ⸻ Hours later, the world above was chaos. The group was holed up in Seth’s basement, dirt-smeared, exhausted, and terrified. Casper paced back and forth. “I told you guys not to touch it! But no one ever listens!” Seth rubbed the back of his neck. “Casper… we’re sorry, man. We should’ve listened.” Charlotte nodded, her voice trembling. “We thought you were just joking. You were right.” Even Dazzle looked ashamed. “Guess this is what happens when I run my mouth.” Casper sighed, slumping onto a crate. “I didn’t want to be right. I just wanted us to be safe.” You crossed the room and sat beside him, placing your hand on his shoulder. “You did everything you could. None of this is your fault.” He glanced at you, eyes tired but soft. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You smiled faintly. “Probably die in the first five minutes.” He laughed, quiet but genuine, and leaned into you. The tension in the room eased just a little. Becky managed a small grin. “Even during the end of the world, you two are disgustingly cute.” Casper rolled his eyes, but his smile lingered as he laced his fingers through yours. You squeezed his hand gently. “We’ll fix this, Cas. Somehow.” He took a deep breath and nodded. “Together,” he said softly. “Always together.”

Kevin Schlieb

*It started over something stupid. Something so small it shouldn’t have mattered.* *Your mom was already yelling by the time you stepped out of your room.* “You left your backpack in the hallway again.” *You rubbed your temple.* “I was gonna move it.” “Yeah, sure,” *your older sister chimed in from the couch, eyes glued to the TV.* “Just like you ‘were gonna’ do the dishes last night.” *You rolled your eyes.* “Oh my god, why do you even care? You’re not my mom.” “She doesn’t have to be,” *your dad cut in, voice sharp from the kitchen doorway.* “She’s right—you’re lazy and careless, and this is exactly why you can’t be trusted with anything.” *Your younger brother snorted.* “Yeah, it’s not that hard to put a bag in your room.” *The heat in your chest flared.* “Why is everyone acting like I just set the house on fire?” *Your mom stepped closer, pointing a finger at you.* “Because you never listen. You always think the rules don’t apply to you.” “That’s not true!” *you snapped.* *Your dad’s voice rose.* “Don’t talk back to your mother.” *And then it happened too fast—you tried to walk away, but your dad grabbed your arm. Not hard enough to bruise, but enough to make you flinch.* “Don’t you walk away when I’m talking to you.” *You yanked your arm back.* “Let go of me!” *Your sister muttered something under her breath—probably “drama queen”—and your mom’s face twisted in that look she got when she was done.* “Go to your room. Now.” *You didn’t argue. Not because you wanted to listen, but because you were shaking too hard to keep standing there. You slammed the door behind you and leaned against it, your breath coming fast and uneven.* *The weed was already stashed in the bottom drawer of your desk. You lit the joint with trembling hands, pulling in the first sharp inhale until the edges of your panic dulled just a little. But the knot in your chest stayed.* *You hated yourself for it, but you reached for the razor hidden inside an old pencil case. Just a little. Just enough to feel something else. You hated how automatic it was now.* *When it was over, you curled into yourself on the bed, staring at the ceiling, tears blurring the light fixture into a shapeless smear. Your phone sat heavy in your palm before you even realized you’d picked it up.* *You: “Can you come get me?”* It took Kevin less than a minute to reply. *Kevin: “Where are your parents?” You: “Downstairs. I’ll sneak out.” Kevin: “I’m on my way.”* *You slipped your hoodie over your head, pulling the sleeves low to hide your arms. The window slid open without a sound—you’d done this enough to know which parts creaked. The night air hit your face like cold water, and you felt the smallest flicker of relief when you saw the faint glow of headlights turning onto your street.*

Bill Denbrough

The Treehouse nobody talks about

Kevin Schlieb

The Night She Felt Like a Person Again (Soft Ver)

Kevin Schlieb

”One More Exit”

Wally Clark

From a guide to a parter

Bill Denbrough

Those eyes…

Rodrick Heffley

*The Roller Rank was buzzing with music, neon lights, and the squeak of hundreds of rental skates against the glossy floor. Families and groups of kids swirled around the rink while a disco ball sent flickering spots of light across the walls.* *The Heffleys had decided to make it a “family outing,” which meant Susan was way too enthusiastic, Frank was already regretting it, Manny had been bribed with cotton candy, and Greg… well, Greg had made it clear that roller skating was not on his bucket list.* *Rodrick, of course, looked like he couldn’t care less about family bonding. But when you tugged on his sleeve and nodded toward the couples skate announcement over the speakers, his whole demeanor changed.* “C’mon,” *you teased, grinning at him.* “Unless you’re scared you’ll fall on your face.” *Rodrick smirked.* “Please. I was born to shred—on wheels, guitars, you name it.” *Susan perked up immediately.* “Oh, how sweet! You two should totally do the couples skate! I’ll get pictures!” “Mom!” *Rodrick groaned, dragging a hand down his face. But you caught his hand before he could argue more.* “Come on, Rodrick. With me,” *you said softly.* *That was all it took. His scowl melted, and he let you lead him onto the rink.* *The lights dimmed, a slow song started, and the couples skate began. Around you, pairs drifted across the floor, holding hands or laughing as they tried not to wobble. Rodrick slid onto the rink beside you, a little shaky at first but refusing to admit it.* “You good?” *you asked, squeezing his hand.* “Totally,” *he said—right before his wheel clipped someone else’s, and he nearly went down. You grabbed his arm, steadying him, and he laughed nervously.* “Okay, maybe not totally.” *You couldn’t help but laugh, pulling him closer.* “Just follow me.” *And slowly, you found your rhythm together. His hand rested securely on yours, and soon he was actually skating without stumbling. The music thumped through the rink, but for Rodrick, everything seemed quieter with you right there, gliding side by side under the disco lights.* *From the sidelines, Greg made gagging noises loud enough for people around him to hear.* “Ew, seriously? They’re holding hands while skating?!” *Susan shushed him immediately.* “Oh, Greg, let them have their moment. It’s romantic!” *She snapped picture after picture on her phone, while Frank muttered something about how “this was supposed to be about the kids.”* *Back on the rink, Rodrick leaned closer, his voice low so only you could hear.* “I don’t care what they say. This is actually… kinda awesome.” *You smiled, resting your head briefly against his shoulder as you circled the rink together.* “Told you.” *And for once, Rodrick Heffley wasn’t the band guy, the slacker, or the annoying older brother. He was just a guy, holding your hand under neon lights, skating a little clumsy but trying his best—because he was with you.*

Rodrick Heffley

*Heather’s birthday party was perfect—or at least, that’s how she wanted it to look. The backyard was decorated with pastel streamers, balloons tied to every chair, and a massive chocolate fountain set up by the pool. Heather flitted around in her sparkling dress, acting like a princess.* *You, her sister, weren’t impressed. The whole thing felt staged, too polished, too Heather. And yet, when the first notes of live music started echoing across the yard, your heart skipped.* *Löded Diper.* *Rodrick Heffley—messy hair, tight black jeans, and the slouchy charm only he could pull off—was standing on stage with his bandmates, gripping the mic like he owned the place. He wasn’t supposed to be there, obviously. This was Heather’s “classy” party, not a garage band show. But Rodrick didn’t care, and honestly, neither did you.* *The opening chords to Baby filled the air, and Heather’s shriek echoed from across the yard.* “WHAT are they doing here?!” *she yelled, stamping her foot.* *But Rodrick only smirked, locking eyes—not with Heather—but with you.* “♪ You are my love, you are my heart… ♪” *The second he sang those words, his voice softened. His gaze lost that usual cocky edge, melting into something vulnerable, just for you. It was messy and imperfect, but he was trying—and that effort made your chest tighten.* *Girls at the party giggled. Parents frowned. Heather screamed about her party being “ruined.” But all you could think about was the way Rodrick’s eyes stayed glued to yours, as if every word was meant for you alone.* *He strutted closer to the chocolate fountain, hitting the chorus with dramatic hand gestures.* “♪ Baby, baby, baby, ohhh… ♪” *You bit back a laugh, clapping your hands together as he leaned into it, his voice cracking slightly but his confidence unshaken. Then—of course—Rodrick miscalculated. He tripped on the corner of the fountain’s base, flailed, and went toppling headfirst into the chocolate with a giant splash.* *Gasps rippled through the crowd. Heather shrieked again.* “MY FOUNTAIN!” *But you couldn’t help it—you burst into laughter. Without thinking, you stepped forward, lost your balance, and fell right in after him. The crowd roared in shock. Heather’s face turned bright red with fury.* *Rodrick sat up in the fountain, chocolate dripping from his hair, blinking like he wasn’t sure what just happened. Then he saw you sitting there beside him, chocolate streaked across your cheek, laughing so hard you couldn’t breathe.* *Something in his expression softened again, more real than when he was singing. He reached out, almost hesitant, and you took his hand, your fingers sticky but warm against his.* “You okay?” *he asked, voice low enough only you could hear.* *Still giggling, you nodded.* “Best part of this whole party.” *He grinned, the kind of grin that made it clear he didn’t regret crashing Heather’s perfect night one bit. Not if it meant ending up here—with you, in the middle of the chaos, holding his hand.*

Kevin Schlieb

*Dinner was already tense before anyone said a word. The clink of silverware was the loudest sound in the room, and your younger brother was kicking the leg of your chair every few minutes, oblivious to the storm building. Your older sister sat across from you, scrolling through her phone until your dad cleared his throat in that way that meant put it away.* *Your mom spoke first, her tone deceptively calm.* “We saw you with him again today.” *You didn’t even need to ask who she meant.* “Kevin.” *Your dad set down his fork.* “We’ve talked about this. He’s not good for you. You’re spending too much time with him, and it’s starting to show.” *Your sister glanced up from her plate, smirking faintly.* “The drummer kid, right? The one who almost got suspended last year?” “He didn’t get suspended,” *you said quickly, glaring at her. *“And you don’t even know him.” *Your mom shook her head.* “We know enough. He skips classes, he’s wrapped up in that loud music of his, and he has no plans for the future. You could do better.” *Your younger brother piped up between mouthfuls of mashed potatoes.* “He’s the guy with the ripped jeans and the hair in his face, right? He looks like he doesn’t shower.” “Can you not?” *you snapped at him, your voice sharper than you meant.* *Your dad’s tone hardened.* “We’re trying to protect you from making a mistake you’ll regret. You can’t see it now, but we can.” “You’re not protecting me,” *you shot back, your voice shaking now.* “You’re just deciding for me, like I can’t think for myself.” *Your sister leaned back in her chair.* “Honestly, if Mom and Dad don’t like him, maybe that’s a sign.” *You felt the heat rise in your chest, the words spilling out before you could stop them.* “A sign of what? That they don’t actually care what makes me happy?” “Enough,” *your mom said sharply.* “We know what’s best for you.” *You pushed back your chair, the legs screeching against the floor.* “No. You know what’s best for you. Not for me.” *Your younger brother looked between everyone, wide-eyed, like he wasn’t sure if this was going to turn into a full-blown fight. Your sister just shook her head, muttering something under her breath.* *You didn’t stick around to hear it. You grabbed your jacket and stormed out, the cold air outside hitting you like a slap. You could still hear their voices faintly through the walls, but out here, at least, they couldn’t follow.*

Bill Denbrough

**Derry, Maine — Late Summer, 1989** *The fight had been stupid, and you both knew it. But neither of you was ready to say so.* *The sun was dipping low, casting long shadows across the cracked sidewalk as you walked a few paces ahead of Bill, arms folded tight. Every few steps, you could hear him exhale—short, frustrated breaths—like he was trying to force the right words out but kept choking them back.* “Y-you just… you don’t get it,” *he said finally, voice low.* “I do get it,” *you shot back without looking at him.* “You think you have to make every decision for me—like I can’t handle anything myself.” *Your steps slowed, but your heartbeat didn’t.* “I’m not asking you to protect me from the whole world, Bill. I’m asking you to trust me.” *That was when he stopped walking. Completely.* *You turned around, and there he was—standing in the middle of the street, hands clenched at his sides, chest rising and falling like he’d just run a mile.* *His eyes found yours, and for a second, you forgot how to breathe.* “So…” *His voice cracked, and the words came out softer than you expected.* “Why do I care about you m-more than anybody else in the w-world?” *It was raw—almost desperate, like the thought had been sitting in his chest for weeks, months, maybe longer, and it had just broken through.* *You didn’t answer right away. You couldn’t. The weight of what he’d just said pressed into you, heavy and real.* *He stepped closer, just enough that you could see the faint gold flecks in his eyes, the way his lashes trembled.* “I don’t… I don’t know how to not care,” *he admitted, voice low, almost shaking.* “Even when you’re mad. Even when you push me away. Even when I mess everything up.” *Your anger dissolved into something warmer, gentler, as you reached out and slid your hand into his. His fingers curled around yours like they’d been waiting for the moment all along.* “Then don’t stop caring,” *you whispered.* “Just… care with me. Let me stand beside you, not behind you.” *Bill’s breath hitched, but he nodded, his thumb brushing the side of your hand in a quiet promise.* *And when you started walking again, it wasn’t about who was leading—it was about not letting go.*

Kevin Schlieb

Say it again… I dare you…

Kevin Schlieb

“I made this song… thinking about you…”

Kevin Schlieb

“Nothing Hurts Here”

Kevin Schlieb

The day that didn’t hurt

Wally Clark

The start to your love story.

Bill Denbrough

*You and Bill were classmates, and you were mutually attracted to each other, but both of you were too scared to say anything. One day, Professor Villerson, the math teacher, put you in a group.* • “Umm, Bill… I still don’t get this damn topic. So A is x and x is… my aunt or what?” • “Y-y-you’re a little s-s-smart to understand it…” • “Did you just call me stupid?” — *you said, offended.* • “N-n-n-no, I just said… you’re cute and, um, also smart.” *Their eyes met, and their hands touched on the desk.* “MR. DENBROUGH AND MISS ___! I DON’T SEE YOU DOING ANYTHING!” *Startled, their hands quickly pulled apart.*

Rodrick Heffley

*The days of sleeping until noon, drumming until the walls shook, and dodging Susan’s endless “chore charts” were long gone for Rodrick Heffley.* *Now, mornings started earlier—sometimes much earlier—usually with the soft cries of his two-month-old daughter. And instead of stumbling out of bed complaining, he found himself sitting up right away, reaching for her crib before you even had the chance to.* *One chilly morning, the baby woke around 4:30 a.m. Rodrick scooped her up, pressing her tiny body against his chest. Her cries quieted just a little when he started rocking her.* “Shhh… it’s okay, princess,” *he whispered, his voice hushed in a way no one would believe was Rodrick’s.* “Daddy’s got you.” *Her little fists clutched at his shirt, her face scrunching up before finally relaxing again. He bounced her gently, pacing the room in slow steps. At some point, without even realizing it, he started humming. It wasn’t a song by Löded Diper or anything he used to thrash out on his drums—it was soft, uneven, but it worked.* *You stirred awake and sat up, watching him.* “You’re getting really good at that,” *you murmured sleepily.* *Rodrick turned his head, his messy hair falling in his face.* “Yeah, well… she likes it better when I sing off-key,” *he teased softly, though his smile gave away the truth: he loved every second of it.* ⸻ *A week later, you found him in the living room on the couch, holding the baby upright against his chest. She had just let out the tiniest laugh—a sound so new and pure that Rodrick froze, wide-eyed.* “Did you—did you hear that?!” *he whispered, grinning like an idiot.* “She laughed!” *You sat beside him quickly, eyes shining.* “Do it again! What did you do?” *Rodrick exaggeratedly stuck out his tongue at the baby, making a silly sound. To your amazement, she gave another little giggle, short but real.* *Rodrick’s jaw dropped. He looked at you like he’d just won a Grammy.* “She thinks I’m funny,” *he said proudly.* “Like, actually funny.” *You rolled your eyes with a laugh.* “Well, one of us has to.” ⸻ *Not everything was easy. One evening, Susan came over with a basket of baby clothes, immediately slipping into grandma mode.* “You need to support her head more, Rodrick! And make sure she’s swaddled tighter—no, not like that! Here, let me—” *Rodrick groaned, clutching the baby closer protectively.* “Mom, I’ve got it, okay? She likes it this way.” *Susan gave him that look.* “Rodrick, I raised three boys. I think I know what I’m talking about.” “Yeah, and look how Greg turned out!” *Rodrick shot back, smirking when Greg—who’d been eavesdropping—yelled from the kitchen,* “HEY!” *You had to bite your lip to stop from laughing, but the truth was, Rodrick really did know what he was doing. It wasn’t perfect, but you’d seen how patient he’d become, how quickly he dropped everything when the baby needed him.* ⸻ *That night, once the house was quiet again, you leaned against him while the baby slept in the crib.* “You’re… really good at this,” *you whispered.* *Rodrick glanced down at you, his eyes soft, so unlike the cocky boy you first met years ago.* “I didn’t think I would be. But… I don’t know. She makes me want to be.” *He looked at the crib, then back at you.* “You both do.” *Your heart swelled at his words, and when he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close, you realized something: Rodrick hadn’t just grown up. He’d grown into this. Into being a dad, a partner, and—against all odds—someone you could rely on. For the first time, the Heffley house didn’t feel like chaos. It felt like family.*

Rodrick Heffley

*The Roller Rank was buzzing with music, neon lights flashing over the smooth floor as kids zipped past on roller skates. The Heffleys, somehow, had managed to make it a “family outing,” though everyone had different feelings about it.* *Susan was thrilled.* “This will be great! A wholesome family activity where we can all bond,” *she chirped, tightening her own skates.* *Frank muttered something about the smell of rental skates. Manny immediately claimed the biggest pair of glow sticks he could find and waved them around dangerously.* *Greg, wobbling on his skates before even stepping onto the rink, grumbled,* “This is going to be the most humiliating night of my life.” *Rodrick, on the other hand, was leaning casually against the rail, one arm slung around you. He smirked.* “Nah, Greg. I’m about to make this night awesome.” *You nudged him with a grin.* “Confident, are we?” *He shrugged, tugging you toward the rink.* “Couple’s skate. Me and you. We’re gonna show everyone how it’s done.” “Rodrick,” *you laughed,* “you can barely stand up in those things.” “Details,” *he said, already stepping onto the rink—and immediately almost falling. You caught his arm, steadying him, and he chuckled nervously.* “See? Totally under control.” *The DJ’s voice boomed overhead:* “Alright, folks, it’s time for couples skating! Grab your partner and hit the floor!” *A slow, cheesy love song started playing.* *Rodrick grinned at you, holding out his hand dramatically.* “Shall we?” *You rolled your eyes but took his hand, letting him guide you onto the rink. To your surprise, once he found his balance, he actually wasn’t that bad. He laced his fingers with yours, pulling you closer as you both started gliding around the rink in sync.* *From the sidelines, Greg watched, horrified.* “Oh my God. They’re like… actually good at this.” *Susan clasped her hands together, practically glowing.* “Look at Rodrick! Skating with Y/N! Isn’t that sweet?” *Frank muttered,* “Never thought I’d see the day he wasn’t making a fool of himself.” *Meanwhile, Manny skated directly into the snack counter, spilling nachos everywhere.* *Rodrick ignored the chaos, eyes locked on you as you spun together carefully, your skates moving in rhythm. He leaned in, whispering,* “See? Told you we’d make it awesome.” *You laughed, bumping his shoulder.* “Okay, I’ll admit it—you’re full of surprises.” *And for those few minutes, under the neon lights and the hum of the music, it felt like the rest of the Heffley family didn’t even exist.* *At least until Greg, wobbling uncontrollably, crashed directly into you both, sending all three of you sprawling across the rink in a heap.* *Rodrick groaned, rubbing his elbow.* “Greg! I swear—” *Susan’s voice carried across the rink:* “Family bonding!” *Rodrick rolled his eyes, helping you up.* “Next time, we’re ditching them and coming here alone.”

Bill Denbrough

*The heat of midsummer pressed down like a weight, but the tension in the air was heavier. The fight had happened so fast—words sharper than any blade Richie had ever thrown around before.* “You don’t care about us, Bill! You only care about your dead brother!” *Richie had snapped, his voice cracking, his glasses slipping down his nose.* *The words hit harder than any punch could. Bill’s jaw tightened, and before anyone could stop it, his fist connected with Richie’s cheek. Richie stumbled back, stunned, but when he raised his hand like he might swing, Bill’s eyes flared with something dangerous, something raw, and he didn’t give Richie the chance.* “Bill!” *Beverly tried to pull him back.* “Stop!” *Stan and Eddie jumped between them, hands up, voices tangled.* “Guys, knock it off!” Eddie squeaked, panic rising. *But Bill’s breath came fast and uneven, fury and grief tangled so tightly it looked like it might choke him. He wasn’t just mad at Richie—he was mad at himself, at Georgie’s yellow raincoat, at the sewer, at every nightmare that wouldn’t let him sleep.* *And in that moment, you couldn’t watch anymore. You stepped forward, ignoring the others calling out, and wrapped your arms around him from behind. He jerked like he wanted to shove you away, but your voice cracked softly against his ear.* “Bill… it’s okay. You don’t have to fight. Please. I’m here.” *Your arms tightened, holding him as though you could anchor him in place. His chest heaved against you, breaths sharp, fists trembling at his sides. Slowly—hesitantly—his shoulders dropped, the fight draining out of him like air out of a punctured balloon.* *Richie muttered something under his breath, his cheek already red where Bill’s fist had landed. Stan pulled him back, Eddie hissing about needing ice, and Beverly lingered just a moment before following the others. One by one, the Losers drifted away, leaving you and Bill standing in the heavy silence of Derry.* *When the last footsteps faded, Bill finally turned toward you, eyes glossy, his lip trembling. His voice was wrecked, low and broken:* “I-I c-can’t… I can’t lose anyone else.” *Your chest ached. You brushed a hand against his cheek, the same hand that had clung to him only moments ago. His skin was damp with sweat, his eyes red. You could see the boy under the leader’s mask—the scared, grieving brother who had never let himself stop searching.* “You’re not gonna lose me,” *you whispered, even though neither of you could promise that, not in this town, not with It still breathing down their necks.* *He leaned forward then, his forehead pressing to yours, his whole body shuddering as if the fight had left him hollow. You closed your eyes and held him, knowing it wouldn’t fix him, knowing it wouldn’t erase Georgie or the things that haunted him.* *But for that moment—for just that moment—he wasn’t alone.*

Kang Dae Ho

Finding peace in hell

Kang Dae-Ho

He got sick 🤒

Kang Dae-Ho

Helping you on your days 🩸

Bill Denbrough

**Derry, Maine — Late Summer, 1989** *It started small. It always did.* *A few teasing jabs from Richie, a sarcastic comment from you, and then Bill’s stubborn streak showed up like it always did when he thought you weren’t taking something seriously. Before long, the laughter had faded, and the two of you were walking down the sidewalk in opposite directions, both still too proud to back down.* “You don’t get it,” *you said, spinning back to face him.* “We’re… too different, Bill. You—” +You gestured vaguely at him, frustration bubbling over.* “You’ve got your plans, your whole leader thing, and I’m… I’m not like that. I’m not you.” *Bill’s brow furrowed, his voice uneven.* “So what?” “So it’s not going to work!” *you blurted.* “I’m not like you, and you’re not like me. You care about… rules and responsibility, and I…” *You shook your head.* “I just care about different things.” *For a second, you thought he’d argue. But he just stood there, staring at you, his lips pressed tight. Then he took a step forward.* “So…” *His voice was quiet, breaking slightly on the first word.* “Why do I care about you m-more than anybody else in the w-world?” *The words froze you in place. His eyes weren’t angry now—they were wide and almost scared, like he’d said something he didn’t mean to, but couldn’t take back.* *He swallowed hard, his hands flexing at his sides.* “If we’re s-so different… if we don’t f-fit… why can’t I stop thinking about you? W-worrying about you? Wanting you to be okay?” *You felt the fight drain out of you, leaving only the sound of cicadas buzzing in the distance and the faint rustle of leaves overhead.* “Bill…” *you started, but the rest of the words stuck in your throat.* “I don’t know h-how to not care,” *he said softly.* “Even when we fight. Even when you p-push me away. I can’t turn it off.” *You stepped toward him slowly, like moving too fast might break the fragile air between you.* “Maybe we’re different,” *you admitted, your voice quieter now,“but I don’t want that to be the reason we give up.” *Something shifted in his face—relief, maybe, or just the comfort of knowing you weren’t walking away.* *And when you started walking again, it wasn’t ahead or behind—it was side by side, his hand brushing yours every few steps like a silent promise he wasn’t letting go.*

Bill Denbrough

*The cafeteria felt… wrong. Not in the loud-clanging-trays, someone-dropped-a-milk-carton way. Wrong in the way where it felt like the people you thought you knew had been swapped out for strangers wearing their faces.* *You sat across from Bill, the peeling surface of the lunch table between you. His hands were wrapped around his Coke can, fingertips tapping in that restless rhythm you’d grown used to. You’d both been quiet for most of lunch, watching the rest of the Losers laugh at their own table.* *It should’ve been comforting — Richie throwing his head back in laughter, Eddie fiddling with his inhaler while trying to scold him, Beverly twirling her straw in her drink. It looked right. But…* “They don’t remember,” *you said finally, voice low so no one else could hear.* *Bill’s gaze flicked to you.* “Y-you feel it too?” *His stutter had gotten a little better over the years, but it always came back when he was nervous.* *You nodded, relief and dread colliding in your chest.* “I thought maybe I was losing it. But they don’t talk about Derry anymore. Not like we do. They don’t—” *You hesitated, eyes shifting to the others.* “They don’t see it. The way this place is still… off.” *Bill leaned forward, lowering his voice even more.* “I t-tried to ask Bev about the well h-house last week. She laughed, said she barely remembers it.” *His jaw tightened, his knuckles whitening around the can.* “We were there. We almost—” *He stopped himself, swallowing.* *You understood what he didn’t say. We almost died.* *Your fingers brushed his under the table, a grounding touch for both of you.* “So what do we do? Just… pretend like nothing’s wrong?” *He shook his head.* “No. We remember. Someone has to. And if they’ve forgotten… it’s just us.” *You took a slow breath, studying the way his eyes, still that same steady hazel from when you’d first met him, didn’t waver from yours. It was terrifying, but it was also strangely comforting.* *Maybe the others had changed. Maybe they’d been pulled away by whatever quiet force in Derry liked to bury the truth.* *But you and Bill — you still carried it. Together.* *And in that moment, you knew that as long as you both remembered, you wouldn’t face it alone.*

Kevin Schlieb

*The smell of roasted chicken hung in the air, warm and comforting in theory, but it felt suffocating tonight. You sat across from your parents at the dinner table, your fork scraping against the plate in slow, restless circles.* *Your mom was the first to speak.* “We saw you with those kids again today.” *You didn’t even look up.* “They have names.” “Names don’t change the fact that they’re trouble,” *your dad cut in, his voice sharp.* “They skip class, they smoke in the parking lot—” *You set your fork down with a clink.* “And I’m supposed to magically turn into them just by standing next to them? Is that it?” “We’re not stupid,” *your mom said, eyes narrowing.* “We know you’ve been smoking too.” *You felt the heat rise in your chest.* “It’s not like I’m robbing banks. You make it sound like I’m ruining my life just for having friends.” *Your dad leaned forward, elbows on the table.* “We’re trying to stop you from making the same mistakes we’ve seen a hundred times before.” “That’s not what it feels like,” *you shot back.* “It feels like you don’t trust me at all. Like you’ve already decided who I am before I even get to prove you wrong.” *Your mom sighed heavily, as if the sound alone could carry her disappointment.* “We want to trust you, but you keep making choices that—” “—that you don’t like,” *you cut in, your voice breaking at the edges.* “You act like I’m supposed to live the life you want, and if I don’t, I’m just… a screw-up to you.” *Your dad’s jaw tightened.* “That’s not what we’re saying.” “It’s what I hear.” *The air felt too thick to breathe. You stood abruptly, the chair legs screeching against the tile.* “I’m done talking about this.” *Your mom’s voice followed you as you headed for the door.* “Walking away doesn’t solve anything!” *You grabbed your jacket without looking back.* “Neither does pretending you understand me.” *The door slammed behind you, the cool night swallowing you whole.*

Bill Denbrough

**Derry, Maine — Summer, 1989** *The argument with the Losers had started as a disagreement about what to do next—how to deal with the strange signs cropping up again in Derry—but it escalated fast. Richie had been loud, Eddie defensive, Mike trying to mediate, but Bill… Bill had just kept pushing until the room felt like it was closing in.* *Then he’d walked out without another word.* *You didn’t think twice before going after him.* “Bill!” *you called, jogging to catch up as he stormed down the cracked sidewalk, shoulders tense, hands jammed into his pockets.* *He glanced back at you briefly, then kept walking.* “What are you d-doing?” *he asked, his tone somewhere between tired and irritated.* “Following you,” *you said simply, falling into step beside him.* *He stopped suddenly, turning to face you, frustration flickering in his eyes—but underneath it, something heavier.* “Why bother?” *he asked, voice low and rough.* “Aren’t you just gonna l-leave me eventually? Everyone else does.” *The words hit you like a gut punch—not because you believed them, but because you could see he did.* “Bill…” *You stepped closer, softening your voice.* “I’ve been by your side since the moment we met. And you’ve been by mine. Let’s give each other some credit here.” *For a moment, he didn’t say anything. His gaze dropped to the ground, his breathing uneven, like he was wrestling with something he didn’t want to admit.* *Finally, he looked back at you. The stubbornness was still there, but so was the vulnerability, raw and unhidden.* “I just… I don’t want to lose you,” *he murmured.* “You’re not going to,” *you said, your hand brushing his until he let you take it.* *And with that, you kept walking—not toward the argument you’d left behind, but toward whatever was waiting ahead, together.*

Bill Denbrough

**Derry, Maine — Late Summer, 1989** *Your footsteps echoed against the cracked pavement, the only sound between you. The argument from minutes ago still hung in the air, bitter and sharp, neither of you willing to break the silence.* *Bill was trailing behind you now, his sneakers scuffing the ground. You could feel his gaze on your back, like he was willing you to turn around. You didn’t.* “You just… you keep deciding everything for me,” *you finally said, voice tight.* “Like you already know what I’m going to do or say. And maybe you think it’s for the best, but—” “I’m t-trying to keep you safe,” *he cut in, but it didn’t sound convincing this time. It sounded tired.* *You stopped, turning to face him.* “Safe doesn’t mean shutting me out, Bill. I’m not—” *You faltered.* “I’m not someone you have to control.” *For a moment, he didn’t move. Then he lifted his head, and you saw it—his eyes, glassy in the fading light, his jaw tight like he was holding something back.* *His voice was quiet when it came out, and cracked halfway through.* “So… why do I care about you m-more than anybody else in the w-world?” *It wasn’t just a question. It was a confession—messy, unpolished, and so heartbreakingly sincere it made your chest ache.* *He swallowed hard, like the words had been dragged out of him.* “I don’t know h-how to not care,” *he said, barely above a whisper.* “Even when you’re mad. Even when it feels like you d-don’t want me around. I just… I can’t stop.” *You stepped closer before you even realized you were moving. His shoulders were tense under your hands, and you could feel the tremor in him when your touch landed.* “I never asked you to stop,” *you murmured.* “I just need you to care with me, not for me.” *For a long moment, he didn’t say anything—just closed his eyes, leaning into your touch like he’d been holding his breath for days and could finally let it out.* *When his fingers found yours, they held on like it was the only thing keeping him standing.* *And this time, when you walked side by side, there wasn’t any space left between you.*

Kevin Schlieb

*The kitchen smelled like burnt toast and stale coffee, but you barely noticed. The fluorescent light buzzed overhead, harsh and unforgiving, casting every crease and shadow across your parents’ faces.* *You sat at the edge of the table, poking at your dinner—cold spaghetti left over from last night—while your parents exchanged thinly veiled barbs disguised as concern.* “Seriously, you need to think about your future,” *your dad said, stirring his coffee with a tired hand.* “You can’t just drift through school and expect everything to work out.” *Your mom folded her arms, her eyes narrowing.* “And the smoking? We’re not idiots. It’s obvious, and it’s not helping anything.” *You bit your lip, trying to keep your chest from rising too fast.* “I’m not just ‘drifting.’ I’m handling things in my own way.” “Your own way?” *your dad scoffed.* “By shutting us out and making excuses?” “It’s not like that!” *The words came faster than you meant them to, your voice cracking on the last syllable.* “You don’t understand—none of you do! You think this is just about school or the weed, but it’s not. It’s everything. The fights, the silence, the way I feel like I’m disappearing right in front of you and you don’t even notice.” *Your mom’s expression hardened.* “We notice plenty. We’re just trying to help.” “You call yelling and lecturing ‘help’?” *Your hands clenched into fists on the table.* “Because all I feel is pressure. Like I’m already broken and you just want to see how much more you can break.” *Your dad slammed his mug down, the sound sharp enough to make you flinch.* “Don’t you dare talk to me like that.” “I’m done talking.” *You pushed your chair back so hard it scraped against the linoleum.* “I’m done pretending this is working.” *Your mom’s voice rose, angry now, almost desperate.* “You think you can just walk away from this? From us?” “I don’t want to be here.” *The words were a whisper, but they filled the room like thunder.* *Without waiting for a response, you grabbed your jacket from the hook by the door and stormed out into the night. The cold air hit your skin and you pulled the collar tight, each breath sharp in your lungs.* *The street was quiet, the only sound your hurried footsteps echoing against the pavement. You wanted to scream, to cry, to run until your legs gave out, but instead, you just kept moving—away from the yelling, away from the expectations, away from the weight you couldn’t bear anymore.* *As you rounded the corner, the weight of everything pressed down harder, and for a moment, you let the tears fall, wiping them quickly so no one would see.*

Kevin Schlieb

*The dinner table was heavy with silence, broken only by the clink of cutlery and the low hum of the TV in the background. You sat stiffly between your parents, poking at your food more than eating, while they volleyed complaints and criticisms across the table like it was some twisted sport.* “You can’t keep avoiding responsibility,” *your mom snapped, voice sharp as she folded her arms.* “You think smoking that stuff helps? It just makes everything worse.” *Your dad added without looking up from his plate,* “And your grades have been slipping. You can’t coast forever.” *You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady.* “I’m doing the best I can.” “No, you’re not,” *your mom said, eyes flashing.* “You don’t even care anymore.” *That was it—the accusation that cut deepest. Your hands clenched into fists under the table.* “That’s not true.” *The words spilled out before you could stop them.* “Maybe I don’t care the way you want me to. Maybe I’m tired of pretending everything’s fine when it’s not. You don’t get it—you never do.” *Your dad slammed his fork down, the noise loud in the quiet room.* “We’re trying to help you!” “You’re not helping. You’re just making it worse!” *You stood abruptly, chair scraping against the floor.* *Your mom’s face twisted in anger and disbelief.* “Where do you think you’re going?” *You grabbed your jacket from the back of the chair without answering and stormed out the door, the cool night air hitting your face like a shock. The house felt suffocating—every word, every look like a weight you couldn’t carry anymore.* *You didn’t look back. You just ran.*

Kevin Schlieb

Love as Survival

Kevin Schlieb

“Gas Station Flowers & Car Wash Lights”

Kevin Schlieb

“Things You Don’t Say Out Loud”

Bill Denrbough

The Kind of Quiet That Feels Like Love

Kevin Schleib

“Falling, Rising, Falling Again”

Kevin Schlieb

“Gas Station Flowers”

Wally Clark

Inspired by S2 EP7

Bill Denbrough

*In the small town of Derry, where summers always seemed a little too long and secrets a little too heavy, a group of friends had formed, bound by innocence and loyalty: the Losers Club. Among them, Bill Denbrough—the boy with the gentle smile and trembling voice, yet full of courage.* *One summer evening, as the sun slowly set over the quiet streets, Bill caught the gaze of the User. She had just arrived in town, mysterious and radiant at once, with that unique way of seeing the world, as if she carried within her a light that soothed hearts.* *Bill immediately felt something different. A rare simplicity, a sincere love that needed neither complicated words nor grand promises. Just the two of them, together, getting to know each other—between laughter, walks by the lake, and whispered confessions by the fire.* *The Losers Club, witness to this budding tenderness, watched them with knowing smiles, aware that sometimes the greatest act of courage is simply to love someone for who they truly are—without pretense.*

Joaquin

You break up 💔 (this happened to me IRL)

Bill Denbrough

Idiots

Kevin Schlieb

“You don’t have to run…”

Kevin Schlieb

“The Only Quiet Place”

Kevin Schlieb

Only When I’m With You

Kevin Schlieb

Every time I fall

Kevin Schlieb

“The Days That Blur”