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moon3thereal · 3 years

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Hiii one request! Nat meets R in a bar or something while she is trying to be far away from the problems of being an avenger,the read head tries to have a date with her and R accepts, then in the midel of the date R takes the initiative and start to be a little/much sassy 😏 and convinces Nat to leave the place to be in somewhere more private. But when they are alone R start to fight with Nat trying to knock her out but Nat pin her down and asks why she is doing that, R admitt that she is a widow and was sent to cach her and bring her back to the red room. The end can be as you wish.

Thanks!!

Title: Eyes on the prize

genre: fluff, angst-ish

warnings: guns, violence, alcohol, knives, mention of memory removal

the bottom: (dont ask why, but leah forced me to credit her at the bottom and technically i did!) credits to @midgardianweasley for practically co-writing and building the foundation for this fic, i could NOT have done this without her, thank you so much, and please go check out her fics everyone!

a/n: one of the longest fics i've written, i hope you guys enjoy! ends with fluff dw

2.7 K words

Natasha brushed a hand over her face in fatigue, she’d been to more than 3 countries within the time span of a week for missions and had done so much paperwork she thought she might pull out her hair if she laid eyes on another mission report. The cadets that S.H.I.E.L.D recruited, in her eyes, were no more than children who didn’t even know how to hold a gun properly, not to mention shoot.

What the Russian needed right now was tequila, a shit load of tequila. Fortunately, there was a bar that the redhead frequented whenever she needs to put some distance between her and the problems of the avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D

Picking up her leather jacket that was tossed carelessly on her couch and the keys to her Chevrolet, Natasha set off to a bar about 3 blocks down the Avengers compound, in fifteen minutes, she was met with a glowing neon sign, she was regular at the dim bar and was almost always seen there on a Friday night with her red hair in a braid and several locks framing her face in effortless elegance

Usually, people didn’t approach her and if they did, she never paid much attention to them. However, today when she sat down, there was a y/h/c haired woman already locating the seat next to her with a beer in her hand. You were idly swirling the beer in its bottle and staring off into space when the redhead settled down in her usual seat.

She ordered 10 tequila shots and you raised a brow at her “you sure you can handle that?” she turned to you with a smirk “I can handle twice as much as that but I have work tomorrow” you hummed in acknowledgement “I haven’t seen you around here before, you’re new?” Natasha asked downing a shot without so much as a grimace “I’m looking for a job, bartender” you said propping your foot up on the counter “well you sure don’t look like one” she remarks and you frowned “is there a specific look for a bartender?” and she downed a second shot and gestured to a woman taking orders from drunk customers “sure there is, there, like her”

You scoffed “hm maybe I’d be an exception to the standard” the corner of the redhead’s lips quirked up “good, it’d be nice to see some change around here” you stretched your arms out in front of you “it would be, if they hired me, but they didn’t, which is why I’m sitting around moping about the fact they rejected such a pretty face” Natasha downed another shot nodding in agreement. You looked at her, genuinely impressed at her alcohol tolerance. “Your mom never taught you that it’s rude to stare?” your face fell for a second at the mention of your mother, she was dead, like all the mothers of the widows who attempted to pry their daughters out of the red room’s grip. But you restored your poker face before she could catch your look of discomposure.

“If staring at you was considered rude, then the whole world would be douchebags” you quipped. Natasha only laughed and shook her head at your obvious flirting “you come here often then?” you asked after watching her down another shot “obviously not enough if I can’t remember a pretty face like yours.” The redhead said lightly. she was studying you though, she noticed how you were sitting, back straight, shoulders back, she wasn’t unfamiliar to that posture at all, in the red room, all widows were trained to be on the defense, on alert at all times, always anticipating anything and everything, nothing could go amiss that way. And she’d also noticed the way you had barely taken a sip of your drink, resorting to swishing the liquid idly in its bottle.

Against everything logical and her own unmistakable and uncannily accurate instinct, Natasha stopped her brain from analyzing and evaluating these signs and allowed them to be overlooked as a side effect of her falling into a trance simply by observing you, how your eyebrows arched perfectly, the curve of your lips, the perfect ridge of your nose and the captivating color of your eyes and how all of your facial parts are completely flawless to her, she could’ve sworn she’d seen you somewhere before. Natasha had met many interesting people in her line of work but she’d never yet met one as intriguing as you were, the quintessential mysterious girl in the bar.

If you had told her two days ago, that she would ask a stranger in a bar over to her apartment to drink with her, she’d have called you crazy. However, it didn’t seem so crazy to her now, it was unlike Natasha, but she asked you to come over to have a drink, an unofficial, casual date. You raised an eyebrow “now, now, was that an attempt to get me drunk?” you clicked your tongue in faux disapproval “simply seizing the opportunity to get to know you better” she said with a shrug. You hid a smile behind your beer bottle, taking the first sip of the night. You had tried to convince yourself that it was simply your success at scoring a date with the Russian therefore giving you a chance to lure her somewhere private to eliminate her, but something in you told you it was more than that, the way she smiled, how her lips curved and her perfectly sculpted eyebrow lifted, it was all so familiar yet you simply couldn’t retrieve the memory.

But one thought was clear, raging even, at the back of your mind. You didn’t want to hurt her, whoever she was, you didn’t want to lay a hand on her, couldn’t bear to see her in pain, you’d defy Dreykov, defy the red room, defy Russia and all of their stupid organizations if it meant you could figure out this mystery of a woman, discovering her secrets one by one, layer by layer. Not to report back to the red room but just to see Natasha as she was. Unfortunately, life doesn’t work that way, it never worked that way, if you’d done it, Dreykov would’ve been notified and you’d be dead before the sun rises the next day. Your eyebrows knitted together momentarily at the thought that the woman before you would be dead at your hands before dawn before you arranged your features to hide the moment of doubt.

“Natalia Alianovna Romanova. Natasha Romanoff. She’s a problem, a threat, a danger to the future of our widows, I need her terminated, and there’s no one better than you, y/n, for the job. Don’t let me down” Dreykov’s voice flashed in your mind, his orders were clear, kill her or there will be consequences.

Natasha’s voice brought you back to the conversation “what do you do? Before you decided to look for a job at this dingy bar I mean” she asked, the shot glasses were all empty now where there had been at least 5 more before, you must’ve been too entranced by your thoughts, or how strands of her hair had escaped her braid and curly wisps of ginger hair were framing her face perfectly. You both had decided to get out of the bar, more patrons had walked in making it stuffy and crampy, you were walking out the door with Natasha, presumably to her apartment “a primary teacher, English.” You said without hesitation, you always spent hours reciting the information of your cover, sometimes you felt as if you were really the person you were pretending to be with how fluently you could deliver the lines you’d practiced in front of a mirror until they were flawless.

She laughed; a clear, melodious laugh that made your cheeks heat up “you? An English teacher? Wow.” She said “what are you gonna say I don’t look like one?” you glared at her with indignation on your face “no, you don’t, you don’t at all” she said, her expression turning into a serious one, for a second your heart dropped, thinking your cover had been blown and you’d have to resort to shooting her in the middle of the street, which wasn’t exactly ideal “you look like a zookeeper” she said biting her lip to hold back her laugh at the look on your face. you raised your eyebrows in amusement “that wasn’t funny” you said “oh but it was” the redhead laughed showing her impossibly white teeth and her cheeks were pink from walking in the cold night air, you couldn’t help but stare at her lips, her perfectly kissable- snap out of it y/l/n, you thought to yourself, that isn’t what you’re here to do.

“But seriously, I’m actually happy about how tonight is going, better than drinking alone” she voiced out, you looked to her with a smirk evident on your face, you’d just reached her apartment and she was unlocking the door letting you in behind her. “Going soft for me Romanoff?” she scoffed before her face fell into an expression of momentary confusion, in a split second you both had your guns pointed at each other “who are you? How do you know my name?” the carefree Natasha was gone now, and in her place stood the infamous black widow.

Deciding that hiding your identity from her was pointless now, you attempted to attack, kicking the gun from her hand and vaulting to get your legs around her neck to choke her. Unfortunately for you, that was textbook red room and a trick Natasha had used countless times on enemies of various sizes. Blocking you, the Russian pinned you, one hand on the small of your back and the other at the back of your neck, holding you down “I knew I should’ve spent the night alone.” Refusing to be defeated so easily, you swept her feet out from under her, but once you got up, she’d punched you in your side causing you to double over in pain. She moved to her gun but you weren’t the star student of the red room for no reason, in the blink of an eye, you had a knife to her throat.

The both of you had stood there for a few seconds, breathing heavily before you felt a familiar feeling of cool metal, the barrel of a gun, through your thin shirt. “You didn’t think I just had one, did you?” she said pressing it into your side in warning. Gritting your teeth in frustration, you released her with a shove and dropped your knife with your hands raised.

“If it was anyone else, in any other situation, I would’ve shot you and be done with it, but you’re intriguing, there’s a story behind this. I trust you won’t pull anything?” she asked watching you stare down the barrel of her Glock. You nodded once, albeit grudgingly. To your utter surprise, she placed the gun down and gestured to a chair on the opposite side of the table and sat down herself. You’d utterly demolished the rest of her kitchen with your fight. Sitting in the chair rigidly, Natasha raised an eyebrow at your silence, you noted how if you made a run for it, she had the ability to shoot you before you even stood up with the proximity of her hand and her gun. Her gun, you had the exact half to the one on the floor across the room, your gun. You furrowed your eyebrows, you had one half of the twin guns, the other half was hers. But that didn’t make sense, unless there was a reason why she’d seemed familiar to you?

Natasha seemed to think the same, her eyes flickering from the gun just inches away from her fingertips to the one across the room, hers had your initials engraved at the bottom, and yours hers. But you’ve never understood why there was two letters engraved on to your favored gun “N.R. Natasha Romanoff” you said, more to yourself than to her. She spoke two letters, your name.

“What is this, who are you?” you said struggling to even out your breathing. “y/n y/l/n” she said. “no it cant be” she said disbelief streaked over her face. “The red room is gone, I killed Dreykov” she said shaking her head and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes “I hate to break it to you, but Dreykov is very much alive” you said “I’m a widow, I was sent here to kill you, you’re a threat to them” you said staring her directly in the eyes. “Whatever you did, unsuccessful” you said. “do you even remember me?” she said a crease in her forehead and looked up at you “you seem familiar. But no, not really” all hostility had gone out from both your voices, you were both just doing your jobs

She started humming a song, the music sounded eerily familiar, the same feeling you’d felt previously looking at her painted lips flooded you. Familiar, but the memory was just out of reach. “with the lights out, it’s less dangerous, here we are now” she started singing softly “entertainers” you breathed out disbelievingly. It suddenly came rushing back to you

When you’d snuck a radio from your trainers’ office

When you’d sneak out of the cuffs on the beds at night to share hidden kisses with each other

How you’d trained side by side

How a redheaded girl had been by your side when you threw up on your first kill

Natalia. Natasha. You had loved her in secret, between the shadow and the soul. You had loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.

Shock was written clearly over your features. You hadn’t seen her since she’d gotten out, ten years ago. Now that you remembered, you couldn’t believe you didn’t recognize her. The same fiery red hair, same eyebrows, same emerald green eyes, same smile. Same Natalia.

Guilt rushed in like an overwhelming wave, Natasha couldn’t believe that you were still alive, she’d attempted to search for you, almost went crazy when you went completely off grid after the Budapest mission. She’d meant to defect, and then go back for you. She had it all planned out, but you seemed to vanish off the face of the earth “I’m sorry, y/n. I’m so sorry, I tried, I really did. You were just gone, I thought you were dead” You stared back at her in shock “its okay, we were separated, I was sent to Italy, remember? It wasn’t your fault.” You said still in a daze

After moments of confusion over how you didn’t remember someone that important to you, an expression of realization found its way onto your face. Memory removal, of course. The red room had the technology, attachment to anyone, anyone at all was nothing but a weakness. Love is for children, that was what the red room had burned into the widows’ minds.

Hatred shone in your eyes when you realized that Dreykov had practically had his scientists cut the part of you that had loved Natasha out of your brain. “you’re an avenger. Means Dreykov won’t hurt you” you contemplated “or your comrades” you supported your chin on your heel of your palm. Natasha nodded slowly in confusion. “They can’t afford to” she said “so if I was your comrade, they would lose any and all ability to do me harm” she nodded again “I suppose so, yes” when you both locked eyes again, you both knew what the other was thinking. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Natasha asked with a smirk “to burn the red room to the ground? Yes.” You said with a matching smirk

If love was for children, you were both toddlers. After everything the red room and the world had done to keep you apart, you had somehow found your way back to each other again. And you weren’t planning on letting her out of your sight any time soon.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x you #natasha fluff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #black widow fluff #natasha romanoff angst #natasha angst #black widow angst

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writemywaytoyourheart · 3 years

Text

Aim For The Heart | Chapter 1: At First Sight

Pairing: hitman!jk x female reader

Genre: E2L, romance, angst, drama

WC: 4.5k

Warnings for this chapter: alcohol consumption, language, stalking kind of? I think that's all lol. Pls let me know if there is anything else I should put.

tag list; @teresaisla @hopekookies @moonchild1 @barbellastyles98 @ggukkieland @mwitsmejk @yukiehyukie

summary; Jeon Jungkook is an infamous hitman, known for his inability to fail at whatever job is thrown his way. At least, up until now. Y/n, a kind-hearted and full of life teacher, is his newest target. Jeon isn't sure who would put a hit on this seemingly innocent girl, but fortunately, that isn't his problem. All he has to do is pull the trigger.

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A bright smile graces your features as you tuck the little star-shaped peanut butter and jelly sandwiches into a tiny container, just barely getting two of them to fit as you squish them down a tad bit in order to get the lid clipped on.

Then you grab a little tangerine and a cheese stick to drop into your lunch bag along with the sandwiches, counting the number of items aloud to yourself as they make themselves at home and then you zip it all up.

"Th-There we go!" You lift your lunch for the day in triumph.

Your phone startles you when it starts to ring, then you grapple in your purse to find it. You pull it out and answer right before the last ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey, girl! Are you ready to go? I'm downstairs." The voice of your best friend comes through the phone and you look at the clock on your microwave. You stare at the little black screen, confused as to why the time isn't showing up before remembering that you were never able to figure out how to display the clock when you bought the microwave three years ago. So, you hold your phone out to look at the time.

6:32

"Oh geez! I didn't r-realize the time. I'll be d-down in a minute, k?" You say, earning a lighthearted laugh from the girl on the other end.

"Take your time, hun. I'm not in any rush."

You thank her quickly and hang up, then you run to your room to grab your favorite pink cardigan and throw it on over your white shirt. As you're hurrying out and grabbing your lunch, you stumble and knock your knee into an open lower cabinet that you had forgotten to close the previous night after pulling a pan from it to make dinner.

"Ouch!" You hiss in pain and rub the sore spot, although it does nothing to ease the ache. Then you grab your purse and run outside, almost forgetting to lock the door. But you remember just in time and clumsily lock it before rushing down the stairs leading to the parking lot of your apartment complex.

Your best friend, Mina, is laughing. You can see her through the windshield as she waves to you. Lifting a hand to wave back, you don't realize in time that your arms are full. You drop your lunchbox and have to crouch to get it again, only taking up even more of your time.

But Mina finds it hilarious and tells you so as soon as you slide into the car and fumble with your seatbelt to get it buckled.

"Honestly, ___. I can't believe you're still single. If I wasn't straight as a board, I'd be head over heels for you and all your shenanigans." She states in a matter-of-fact tone as she pulls out of the parking spot.

A blush creeps up your neck and you try to laugh it off, "D-Don't be silly." You whisper, turning your gaze outside to look at the fluffy white clouds decorating the sky beautifully. You smile and lean your forehead against the glass as you imagine lying on a soft cloud, just drifting in the air.

"If you c-could go anywhere at all, where would y-you go?" You ask Mina suddenly, turning to her. Her eyes are focused on the road but she bites her lip in thought at your question. "Mm, probably Italy. What about you?" She's used to your sudden questions and ramblings, so she smiles when you start to go off.

"I'd wanna go up in the c-clouds. I wanna sit on one and maybe even see a r-rainbow up close! I wonder if I could slide down the rainbow..." Your brows furrow in deep thought. "Or would I f-fall?" You turn to her again and she glances over to see your signature puppy dog eyes that you use when you are either confused, upset, or want something.

Mina turns back to the road, a tiny ache in her heart that she hides with a bright smile, "Girl, you would ride that rainbow straight down into a pot of gold!"

"Really?" Your eyes widen and you feel your heart lift at the image.

She nods and you giggle happily, "You can come w-with me, Mina." You say confidently, your gaze turning back to the sky. "We can sleep in the clouds and slide down rainbows for the rest of f-forever."

"Sounds like a deal."

By the time Mina pulls up to the school, you've discussed everything you'd do up in the clouds and what you'd eat when you're hungry (stardust, you've decided, is the best meal anyone could eat.)

You unbuckle and gather your things. Then you remember something and turn back to Mina, "Oh yeah. W-When are you leaving on your business trip?" You ask a tinge of sadness in your voice.

"This weekend," Mina says solemnly. "I'm sorry I won't be able to drive you for a while. I'll be gone for a month this time."

That makes your heart sting but you manage a small smile, "D-Don't worry about me. I can walk! I'm gonna m-miss you though."

"I'll miss you too, buttercup. We'll hang out this Friday night before I leave the next day. How about that?" Mina asks kindly.

You nod enthusiastically and she smiles, "Ok, get your butt in there before you're late! The bell rings in half an hour and you can't be late on a Monday." She urges you and you nod, hopping out of the car and thanking her again for the ride, reassuring her that you'll walk home from work today.

You blow her a kiss and she laughs as you turn and hurry into the school.

You're all set up only a few minutes before the kids are supposed to arrive, so you go onto Pinterest and look through your fairytale boards, feeling a little spark of joy in your chest.

A couple of minutes later, the kids start streaming through the door, greeting you with the same amount of enthusiasm as you greet them. Your kiddos love you so much that all the other teachers are jealous and they let you know it every day. Of course, you have the sweetest kindergarteners and they're always the best for you.

"Hello, Teacher! Good morning Miss ___! Teacher, look at my new haircut!"

"Hi, Jina! Hello M-Minhhyuk! Kun, your new haircut l-looks so good!" All the kids have bright smiles on their faces by the time they've settled in their seats.

You always start the day off by getting everyone to stand and do a few stretches, then you sing the nursery rhymes you learned yesterday and start learning a new one. You honestly have as much fun as the kids during the school day.

"Ok, l-little ducklings, have a seat!" You get their attention and they immediately oblige. Next, is the alphabet that you guys have been working on since the beginning of the year. Every little one sings it perfectly all the way through and you give them a round of applause and they each get a little punch in their reward cards.

The rest of the day goes by smoothly, with only one temper tantrum thrown and that was resolved quickly.

It's nearing the end of the school day and the kids are all playing during their free time. You're sitting with Ae-Cha, a small and fairly quiet girl, playing with colorful blocks; the both of you competing to see who can build the highest tower. You've learned that she responds well to playing games when there isn't too much talking involved.

You're constantly glancing around the room to make sure everyone is safe and playing nicely and you're always pleased. They've all improved so much since the beginning of school back in September. It's June now and they've all learned their alphabet and how to play nicely with their new friends, along with so many other things. They've really made you so proud this year. You can even hear them reciting the alphabet and nursery rhymes to each other as they play.

Your heart warms at the sound of tiny voices filling the room as they sing. Then you glance at the clock and realize the bell will be ringing in a few minutes. So, you declare Ae-Cha the winner with her foot-high tower of blocks and she beams proudly. Then, you get up and clap three times, "One, two, th-three! Eyes on me!" You singsong, then smile when the kids immediately respond by clapping twice and shouting "One, two! Eyes on you!"

"G-Great attention today, everyone! Alright, the bell will ring soon. Who can tell me w-what that means? What are we doing n-now?" A few little hands go up and you point to the little boy that raised his first, "Yes, Joon Woo?"

"We...Uhm...time to clean up toys...Uhm..." You smile to encourage him and he finishes cutely, "Time uh, to clean up our toys and pack bags."

"Yes! Thank you, Joon Woo. It is t-time for us to clean up and make sure our bags are packed up and ready for h-home!"

The kids start to pick up their toys as you put on the cleaning song that you play every day for them. You all sing along until the room is all tidied and their bags are packed with their homework papers.

You always give them little mazes to do for homework to get their little brains to learn to concentrate, along with instructions on what to draw to show the class the next day. Today, their homework is an extremely easy maze, a coloring page with the alphabet and instructions to draw themselves doing their favorite activity. The kids always love drawing pictures and sharing them with the class and it's a good ice breaker for the shy ones at the beginning of the day.

You always have less and easier homework for the kids on Mondays and Fridays, it just seems fair to you that way. You also feel like it's good for kids to express themselves and be able to share what they like and dislike. You've found drawing helps with communication and creativity for the kids in your class.

The sound of the bell ringing makes a few of you jump, then you hurry to the door. "Alright, ducklings! T-Time to line up!" A few of the kids make quacking sounds as they line up, giggling and talking to their friends.

You smile and open up the door, holding it as the kids walk out in a straight line, some of them still quacking like little ducks.

You lead the kids to the front of the school and make sure they get into the correct line for the bus if they take it. You wave goodbye to them as the kids that take the bus climb on and they run to a window to wave back to you.

The rest of the kids that are left are soon picked up by their parents or siblings. You wave to Ae-Cha, the last student to be picked up. She smiles shyly and waves back before hurrying after her big sister.

After that, you go back to your classroom and finish a few things before packing up to go home. As you're leaving your classroom, you run into one of the other teachers coming from his own room.

"Oh, h-hello Mr. B-Baek!" You bow, missing the ugly sneer on his face as you smile brightly at him. He pushes his glasses further up his nose as he scrutinizes you with his beady little eyes. "You don't belong here, Miss ___." He snaps.

You look at him in confusion, "I-I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"I've waited the entire school year to say this to you. But now that we are nearing the end, I think you should know that you have no business being a teacher at this school. You ought to make the right decision to discontinue your work here." Mr. Baek watches your face fall with a sick sense of satisfaction.

"B-But, why?" You ask, still not understanding.

"First of all, you're inexperienced. You just got out of college last year, am I right?"

You nod uncertainly.

"You're still a child. Why should a twenty-two-year-old girl come marching in here and take a spot that should have been given to someone with more experience? And especially someone like you." He glares at you before turning on his heel and walking away briskly.

Someone like me? What does he mean by that?

You watch after him, feeling a tiny pinch in your chest. You aren't sure what he means, but whatever he's talking about, it sounds like he believes you shouldn't have become a teacher at all. At this school or another. You'll have to ask Mina later because you really have no idea where his rant came from.

Is there something wrong with you becoming a teacher?

You shake your head and laugh it off, "He's probably just had a bad day." You tell yourself as you make your way out of the school.

As you walk home, you sing quietly along with the song in your headphones, a little skip to your step.

You never notice the dark figure across the street, his eyes trained on your every move.

One day earlier...

Jungkook groans as he tosses and turns in bed, searching for his phone to turn the alarm off. He finally finds it and hits dismiss, tossing the phone back down and rubbing his eyes with a tired yawn.

After another minute he sits up and looks out the window, frowning at the sun seeping in and pooling across his floor in a golden river. He stares at a small bird that lands on his windowsill until it flies away.

Jungkook yawns again and reaches up to rub his eyes for the second time. After a few minutes, he's finally able to drag himself out of bed and into the shower. He almost falls asleep again in there, but he manages to make it out after half an hour.

With a towel wrapped around his waist, he makes his way to the kitchen and grabs a bottle of soju that's sitting on his tiny dining table to take a small swig from, finishing off what he'd left last night after his third bottle right before he passed out in bed.

He sighs and grabs a bagel, searching for the cream cheese he swears he saw in his fridge last night. A small smile appears on his lips when he finds it. He snatches it and makes sloppy work of spreading it on his bagel before tossing the leftover trash onto his counter and plopping onto the couch, snarfing down the first half of his bagel in thirty seconds.

Jungkook sighs through his nose as he tiredly chews his breakfast, then he glances down and sees the file he'd left open on his coffee table last night. He swallows the bite he has in his mouth and leans forward to read over it.

Y/L/N Y/N...

Why is that name so familiar?

He shakes his head and flips the file closed, then he leans back on the couch, wanting to spend his Sunday relaxing before he has to get to work on this case. He isn't going to think about it again until tonight.

Jungkook settles down and lays his head on the back of the couch, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.

He won't think about it.

Jungkook lays there for a minute, then he opens his eyes and lifts his head, glaring at the closed file on the little table.

He grunts in annoyance and drops the other half of his bagel onto the table, grabbing the file angrily and sitting back again. He opens it and starts to reread everything he's read many times since Friday. There's just something that has felt off since he met with Mr. Ling, but he can't put his finger on what it is.

Jungkook squints at the name he's read a thousand times.

Y/L/N...Y/N...

"Ugh." He rolls his eyes, frustrated at not being able to remember where he's heard that name before. Then he looks at the occupation.

Teacher at Sunshine Kindergarten.

His brows furrow again, much like they have each time he's read this. He's never had a hit on a teacher before, let alone a Kindergarten teacher. That's such an odd target...

Most of his targets in the past have been sleazy business owners, rapists, leaders of gangs that have terrorized neighborhoods for years, even other hitmen. He's never had a problem with those jobs, but there's something about this one that's telling him to be careful.

Maybe it's because he knows nothing about his client, except for the large sum of money he must have due to the pay he's been promised. Other clients of his were more than happy to explain why they wanted him to do what he does. They never paid him until after the job was done, either.

That leads Jungkook to believe that this guy (or girl) is desperate for his services, convincing him to do it with payment before and after. Almost as if Jungkook would refuse after he found out who the target was...

Jungkook flips the page and scrutinizes the picture of the target.

She's very simple looking, Jungkook thinks. The girl in the picture is wearing a white flowy skirt with a blue blouse that covers her whole arms and white chunky tennis shoes. Her hair is in a low ponytail and it seems like she has headphones in as she walks down the street. There's a tiny smile on her face as if she's thinking about something that makes her happy.

Jungkook doesn't find her particularly beautiful, but she isn't ugly either. She's just very...

Simple...

Jungkook shakes his head, his eyes going over the photo and the girl's smile one more time. Maybe she's a double agent? Or a part of the mafia disguising herself as a school teacher?

He can't figure it out.

It doesn't matter much though, the job seems simple enough and the pay is more than he's ever gotten. After looking through everything once more, Jungkook closes the file and grabs his bagel, quickly eating it before getting up to get dressed for the day.

That night, Jungkook lays out his outfit for the next day.

It's all black, but not suspicious-looking. After all these years, he's been able to design the perfect outfits to avoid attention being drawn to him and simple enough so that no one would think much of him if he were to catch anyone's attention.

It might seem simple, but he prides himself on being able to get each part of his job perfectly designed for each case he gets.

Heaven knows it's taken him years to accomplish.

After he's gotten that all figured out, he walks over to his closet and pulls out a small safe. Setting it on the bed, he swiftly unlocks it and looks inside. He pulls out a few things, examining each of them before he sets them one by one onto his bed. Once he's got the items all laid out, he steps back to look it all over.

"I should wait to decide..." Jungkook mumbles to himself. After a minute of staring at everything, he nods and gathers it all up, carefully putting it back into the safe and locking it tightly. Then he brings it back to his closet and shoves it into the darkest corner where it lives.

That can wait.

He pulls his phone out and checks the time.

11:45

"Damn it," Jungkook mutters. He had wanted to get some sleep earlier tonight since he would have to be awake early tomorrow.

He changes into some shorts, then he yanks his shirt off and immediately climbs into bed, not even bothering to shower or brush his teeth. He really couldn't care less with how tired he is. And he hasn't even started yet.

His alarm blares at an ungodly hour as Jungkook groans loudly, resisting the temptation to chuck his phone across the room.

"I hate Mondays." He mutters angrily, setting his phone back on the nightstand far from gracefully.

He miserably drags himself out of bed and into the shower, going through his morning motions almost like a robot. His brain isn't fully awake and it's just on autopilot right now.

An hour later, he's just finishing his coffee, his eyes no longer squinting in exhaustion. Jungkook unceremoniously drops his coffee cup into the sink, promising himself he'll clean it up later, then he sighs as he grabs his black boots, walking to the couch to sit and pull them on. After he's done lacing them up, he grabs the file he's been avoiding like the plague since yesterday morning.

He mutters to himself, looking at the name on the page.

"I know that name."

Then he smacks his forehead to get himself to focus again. He stands up and folds the page with the girl's information and then her picture and tucks them into the inside pocket of his black jacket.

Time to get to work.

Jungkook spots the girl almost instantly, the second she steps out of a black car. He glances at the driver, but can only see a person with shoulder length black hair waving. The girl from the picture has a bunch of things in her arms as she blows a kiss to the short-haired driver.

Jungkook has been here since six-thirty in the morning and just as he was beginning to think she called in sick for work, he's finally gotten a chance to see this girl in person. She looks exactly as he remembers from her picture...plain.

She's even wearing the same white skirt and chunky tennis shoes, although this time she has a different top. Her hair is in a high ponytail this time.

"Well, ___. Nice to meet you." Jungkook mutters, watching closely.

After a moment, the black car drives away as the girl scurries into the school, tripping on the last step before straightening herself out again, then disappearing from his sight.

Huh.

Jungkook stares at the door for another minute, then he makes his way to the stores nearby, knowing he's gonna have to wait until the girl leaves. School for the young kids typically gets out at around three-thirty. So, he'll have to be back here around then.

He's definitely going to need to find something to do to kill time.

Jungkook heaves a sigh of relief when he hears the school bell finally ring.

He hurries from the clothes store he was browsing and down the street a block until he's almost across the street from the school. He finds a good spot where he can sift through some newspapers at a little stand and still have an eye on the school.

After a minute, he sees a long line of tiny children coming out from the school. The girl is with them and smiling brightly. Jungkook thinks he can hear some of the kids quacking like ducks. He tries not to look puzzled as he goes back to talking to the person working the paper stand. Jungkook makes small talk with the old man, still keeping an eye on the girl across the street as she waves to each child that leaves.

If she's some mafia boss disguised as a kindergarten teacher, she's one hell of a good actress.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" The old man inquires curiously.

Jungkook laughs softly and shakes his head, "No. I've been so busy with my work I never got the chance to date."

The man nods knowingly. They chat a bit more and Jungkook finds himself trying to balance talking to the man and watching the girl.

"Well, did you want to buy a paper for the day?"

Jungkook turns his gaze back to the old man and nods, "Yes. Two, please. My neighbor would probably enjoy one as well."

The old man laughs and nods, taking the money Jungkook hands him and giving him two papers, "What a kind young man you are. Someday you'll find a lovely young lady, don't you worry, son. You will realize that work is important, but love is even more so."

Jungkook just laughs and thanks the man, then he opens the paper as he slowly starts walking, pretending to read.

He stops at a bench and sits down to wait. The girl went back into the school a few minutes ago, hopefully, she won't be in there long.

Luck seems to be with him today, because, after only about five minutes, Jungkook sees a familiar white skirt flowing as she skips down the steps of the school.

He folds his paper carefully, tucking it into his back pocket. The girl puts little earbuds in and immediately starts to mouth the words of whatever song she's listening to. Jungkook tugs his black baseball cap down a little more as he follows on the other side of the street.

The girl has a bag decorated with cupcakes and cookies that bounces up and down as she dances a little.

What is she, twelve?

Jungkook watches in confusion as the girl stops to pet a dog, giggling when the puppy licks her hand. She straightens up, then after another minute, she seems to get distracted by something else.

Jungkook looks carefully and notices she's picked up a flower that was laying on the ground, seemingly trampled on. She gently holds it in her hands as she continues on her way. It goes on like this for the next fifteen minutes, the girl waving to people and smiling almost the whole way.

By the time she is walking up the steps to her apartment, Jungkook is dying to just get back home. That must have been the longest most annoying walk he's ever taken while tracking someone. The girl had stopped over twenty times, distracted by something else each time, he's sure of it.

Just to be sure, Jungkook lingers around the apartment building a little longer, but when it seems apparent that the girl is going to be staying there, he finally heads home.

Geez, Jungkook thinks in annoyance as he climbs the stairs that lead to his own apartment. His head is spinning with so many questions while he unlocks his door and yanks his boots off with a groan.

But when he plops down onto his bed in his tiny studio apartment, he just stares at the ceiling, his mind suddenly blank apart from one question.

Who in the hell would put a hit on this girl?

a/n: I hope you guys are liking the setup so far, thank you for all the positive reactions from the prologue!

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beyondthebarrier · 3 years

Text

Starker Festivals Summer Bingo

Prompt: Didn't Know They Were Dating | Title: Rising to the Occasion | Ao3

Summary: The media seems to think that Tony and Peter are dating. In fact, so does Rhodey. And Aunt May. And the team...

Don't worry. Tony sets the story straight.

This is my first proper Starker fic so bear with me!

It wasn’t abnormal for Peter to be alone when he woke up, if he was being honest. Tony was rarely still in bed in the mornings, presumably quick to dismiss himself from the actions of the night before. Peter never minded, usually always able to find the man elbows deep in some project that he might be able to pick the genius’ brain about.

“FRI, can you start me some coffee?” Peter asked quietly, his voice a little raspy from sleep.

“Of course. Good morning, Peter.”

“Good morning, FRIDAY.”

Peter got to his feet, finding his sweatpants from the day before and Tony’s discarded Black Sabbath shirt before making his way directly to the kitchen for the promised cup of coffee. It took a few sips for him to realize that he heard voices coming from the living room - he’d assumed he was the only one in the penthouse. He recognized the second voice easily though so he wasn’t shy about heading that way.

“Look who’s awake,” Tony announced with a smile when Peter and his bedhead popped up in the open door frame. Rhodey looked his way and Peter waved around his coffee mug.

“Hope you’re here on your own accord and not because he dragged you for some nonsense, Colonel,” Peter greeted with a smirk towards the man in question.

“I’m not here for damage control this time, miraculously,” Rhodey replied easily, chuckling.

“In that case, I’ll leave you two to it. Tones, I’m gonna shower and head downstairs. It was good to see you, Colonel!”

As Peter made his way back towards the bedroom, Rhodey looked over at Tony and sighed at the look on the billionaire’s face.

“He looks good on you, Tony.”

“Here, May, I’ve got it,” Tony swooped in, grabbing the woman’s empty plate before she could fully get to her feet. Peter rolled his eyes but stood as well, his own empty plate in hand.

“I don’t know what you’ve done to him,” Peter started, exasperated. “This man would rather buy new dishes than wash them at his own house and then he sits here and readily offers when we’re over here. Please, I need to know your secret. I’m tired of coffee rings in all the mugs.”

“Oh it’s easy, Peter. He’s scared of me,” Aunt May said in a faux whisper, winking at Tony before she settled on her sofa with the rest of her glass of wine as the boys worked to clean the kitchen. Tony washed while Peter absentmindedly dried and put away dishes, chatting away quietly to the older man. When Peter turned back to face the man, Tony quickly smeared soap bubbles onto Peter’s cheek, grinning. With a laugh, Peter reached into the sink, splashing the man with the water in the sink, despite the expensive suit Tony was wearing. Tony didn’t seem bothered as he grabbed the young man around the waist and pulled him in close for a hug, getting him wet as well. Peter squeaked, making Tony lean his head back in laughter before kissing Peter’s forehead and letting him go. Only Tony noticed the look that May was giving them both and he just smiled before turning back to finish cleaning.

As they left, Aunt May wrapped both men in crushing hugs to say goodbye. As Tony helped Peter into his jacket, he looked over his head at the woman, smiling.

“It’s our turn next Sunday, May. Be at the penthouse at seven.”

“I thought the little spider was supposed to be here? I brought ale for him to try!” Thor announced, holding up a large jug full of… well, not even Tony was eager to try the liquid sloshing around. Peter had been excited with the prospect of an alcohol that would give him the proper effects but Thor was right - Peter was nowhere to be found.

“Maybe he’s just running late,” Tony replied with a casual shrug, even as he slid his phone out to send yet another text to the missing member of the team. It was meant to be a little game/movie night and Peter was usually the one coercing him into attending so his lack of punctuality was bothering Tony. However, it wasn’t until Natasha and Steve also pointed out Peter’s absence that Tony excused himself. They weren’t sure exactly where he was going until they saw the suit fly off from the landing deck, heading in the direction of a shitty little apartment in Queens.

When Peter didn’t answer the door, Tony let himself in with his key, calling out Peter’s name frantically. It was a studio apartment and Peter groggily sat up in bed, blinking at the man who had just rudely interrupted his sleep.

“Pete, there you are. You’re missing game night, why are you- You’re burning up, sweetheart!” Tony sat on the edge of the bed, the back of his hand pressing against Peter’s forehead.

“M’cold,” Peter mumbled, trying to wrap the blankets around himself again so he could lay down.

“When’s the last time you’ve eaten?”

“Not hungry..”

“Okay, you’re definitely sick,” Tony pointed out, jumping to his feet to search the kitchen for food. Peter spent so little time here now that the cabinets were practically barren. There was certainly no cans of soup or really… anything. With a wince, Tony reached for a half-empty jar of peanut butter and a spoon, heading back to the bed.

“Tones, m’not hungry,” Peter whined as he scooped peanut butter out of the jar.

“Sweetheart, you need calories. Just a little bit and some water and I’ll let you go back to sleep. Your body will kick this in no time but it needs fuel to do it,” Tony said firmly, lifting the spoon to Peter’s lips. He opened them, accepting the spoon reluctantly and smacking his lips as he tried to get the peanut butter down. Tony got up, fixing him a cup of water. Between the two of them, they painstakingly got a full eight ounces of water and four big spoonfuls of peanut butter into the enhanced man before Peter gave up, flopping back into the pillows.

“Are you going back to game night?” he asked Tony, a rather pitiful look on his face. Tony shook his head, laying down beside him and wrapping his arms around him.

“No, I’m not going anywhere. Go back to sleep, I’ll be right here,” he assured, running his fingers through Peter’s sweaty curls and kissing his forehead.

Peter had decided to leave the tower for his lunch break, the idea of a sandwich from the deli down the block on his mind all morning. It was a beautiful day and he’d been looking for an empty space on a bench when he noticed the pointing in his direction from a few people by a magazine stand. He glanced down at himself, trying to see if maybe his shirt had come untucked or he had trash trailing on his shoe but he didn’t spot anything. However, he did hear the words, ‘Tony Stark’s boyfriend’ come from someone’s mouth and his stomach immediately twisted. He couldn’t stop himself from going over to the stand, dreading the idea of seeing Tony’s smiling face on a magazine cover with some- Oh. It was him. Peter laughed, picking up the glossy booklet. They’d attended a gala on Saturday evening for SI and the photo on the cover was the two of them all dressed up and smiling at each other in front of some rose bushes. ‘Tony Stark and boyfriend, Peter Parker, Rose to the Occasion.’ Peter scoffed at the title, setting it back down and reaching for his phone. He wasn’t sure Tony would find it as amusing as he did but he was just relieved that it hadn’t been someone else on that cover.

Thankfully, Tony didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. He had already known about it, getting the alert from PR hours before, and even seemed a little concerned that Peter might be upset about it.

“Do you want me to put out a statement about it?” Tony asked him over the phone, as if sensing Peter’s slight discomfort.

“You won’t be rude about it or anything, right? Just clarify, sweet and simple?” Peter asked, noticing that he was still garnering a bit of attention. Thankfully, New Yorkers themselves were usually nonchalant about that kind of thing so it was only the tourists that were trying to draw attention to him.

“Of course. I’ll get it out right away,” Tony assured him.

Peter had no reason not to believe him. He thanked him, hung up, and moved further away from the news stand. He muted his phone before digging into his sandwich, taking advantage of the rest of his lunch break before heading back to work. It wasn’t until he was in the elevator going back up to R&D that he noticed his phone was blowing up. He sighed, expecting a tweet or something from Tony laying out the truth but what he found caught him off guard.

Relationship. Tony said relationship. He hadn’t claimed that they were just friends or fuck buddies or whatever. He said relationship. Peter was so hyperfocused on the words that the next thing he registered was FRIDAY’s voice.

“Mr. Parker? Mr. Parker, are you alright? Your vitals are concerning, should I alert Mr. Stark? ..Peter?”

“No! No, FRIDAY, no, don’t alert him, I’m fine!” Peter scrambled to answer, glancing up to see what floor the elevator was at currently. “Please don’t. I’m fine. I’m answering you, I’m fine!”

FRIDAY reluctantly agreed not to tattle just as the elevator stopped at his floor. Peter wasn’t feeling very fine, despite his protests, as he stepped out. He expected lots of stares and whispers, perhaps even direct comments about him ‘dating the boss.’ But there was nothing. Either nobody here had seen it yet or they just didn’t care. That certainly helped matters as he made his way to his table, intending on trying to focus on work but finding himself scrolling through the comments on the post instead. It was full of congratulatory messages from strangers but their friends didn’t seem very surprised. Rhodey, Nat, Ned, even Steve commented, all seeming as if this was barely news to them.

Peter got to his feet, heading back to the elevator to get to Tony’s lab. As the doors slid open on Tony’s R&D floor, Tony was standing there waiting to get on. The man flashed him his signature smile, stepping aside so he could get out.

“I was just coming to see you. May texted, said you seemed a bit out of it. Are you okay? I know the attention can be a lot but if I repeatedly make it clear that I want your privacy to be respected, it shouldn’t get too bad. Trust me, the fangirls will go rabid when reporters get too in-your-face about something,” Tony explained, leading Peter towards his office. Peter didn’t respond, staring straight ahead as Tony closed the door behind them. “They’ll want to protect you at all costs,” Tony continued, heading for the sofa instead of his chair. Peter remained standing, still just staring. Tony finally realized something was up and quirked an eyebrow at him, curious. “Pete?”

“Boyfriend.” Peter said blankly, staring at the man.

“Um, yes? I also have a name you can address me by.”

“Boyfriend.”

“Oookay, that works too. Peter, what’s wrong?”

The younger man started pacing the length of the office and Tony sighed, covering his face with his hands for a moment before regaining composure.

“FRIDAY, diagnose him. Fever? Has he been drugged? Is he having a psychotic break?”

“Sir, it appears that Peter is in a state of shock,” FRI replied easily. “His heart rate is elevated but nothing to be concerned about.”

“Shock over what?” Tony asked, watching as his partner continued to pace. He could practically see the gears turning in the boy’s head.

“It seems that Peter was not aware that the two of you were dating, Sir.”

Tony let out a humorless laugh while Peter came to a halt, his cheeks tinting pink as he stared at the floor. Realizing that there may be some truth in what FRI was telling him, Tony got to his feet, carefully approaching Peter.

“She’s right, isn’t she?” He asked softly, frown lines deeply engraved into his forehead. Peter refused to respond, not even looking up. Tony sighed, cupping the man’s chin and gently lifting it. “Pete? Is she right?”

Instead of answering, Peter’s face crumpled.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, hiding his face in his hands. Tony immediately pulled him into his chest, wrapping his arms around him securely. “I didn’t know that’s what this was.”

“That means I fucked up somewhere, Peter. Not you,” Tony soothed, rubbing the boy’s back. “If it had just been sex, I could understand, but Pete, sweetheart. I go to Sunday dinners with your Aunt. I host Sunday dinners for your Aunt. I take care of you when you’re sick, I let you wear my clothes.. Baby, we practically live together.”

“You never asked! You never used the words dating or boyfriend or-or-or relationship or anything,” Peter defended, lifting his head to look at the older man.

“Eight months ago, we laid in bed and I told you that I never wanted this to end. That I wanted forever with you,” Tony explained. “You agreed. I thought we were pretty clear from there on.”

“I thought that was pillow talk!” Peter exclaimed. “I’m so angry right now that it’s not even funny.”

Tony frowned once more, immediately letting Peter go and holding his hands up in surrender.

“Angry? You’re angry that I thought we were dating?”

“I’m angry that I’ve been holding back for eight months because I thought I wasn’t allowed to have you! I don’t kiss you first or touch you first or cuddle you whenever I want because I didn’t want to be too much for you!”

Tony’s face broke out into a grin, seeming relieved.

“Well, let’s rectify that right away.”

#starker #peter parker x tony stark #sfsummerbingo21

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187days · 2 years

Text

Day One Hundred Eleven

I pulled the meanest stunt ever (so they tell me, heh) on my GOV students today. They finished their first full-sized (as in, same size as the actual AP exam) test yesterday, and today’s the Friday before a week-long vacation, so my agenda was an episode of The West Wing. They really like the show, they were psyched for it to be a chill day. WELL The episode I showed was “What Kind of Day Has It Been,” which ends with an assassination attempt. I’m saying, it was gunshots and a fade to black, followed by my students shrieking and telling me they couldn’t believe they were leaving on a cliffhanger, how could I do that to them, etc, etc...

I did promise we’ll watch the next episode on the 28th when we return to school.

So that was fun.

I had an actual lesson to do in World because ninth graders need to learn that days before vacation are not throwaway days. We went over the assignment they’d done yesterday, I took questions, we read a bit more about Jewish beliefs, and then I showed a few video clips: a day in the life of a rabbi, a video of Shabbat in Jerusalem, a video about Yom Kippur. It matched the info in the readings we’d done with some visuals, gave them some information about a culture they’re largely unfamiliar with. In all three sections of the course, a student remarked on that lack of familiarity and on the fact that there aren’t many Jewish people in this community, and I explained why (historically, Jews were discriminated against in this part of the state, the resorts were segregated, etc, etc...) That was a somber but important moment. It’s not something they knew about the local history. We also discussed how life would be different if there was a large Jewish community here: how that would impact when things are scheduled, what foods were served in our major restaurants, and so on. Basically, my goal is teaching them to identify the major beliefs, customs, and practices associated with a specific religion, and recognize how religion can impact other aspects of culture.

Typically, my lessons go most smoothly in my Block 1 class, but today those students were not particularly enthused, and I get it. It’s a Friday morning, last day before vacation, etc, etc... It happens. And it’s not like they didn’t do the lesson, but there was a lot less participation than usual. On the other hand, there was a lot more than usual in my Block 2 class. Students who don’t normally put their hands up asked questions or contributed observations, which was great. I also got apologies from two students who’d been a bit disruptive in past classes (they were more disruptive in Ms. A’s classes, so she’d actually called their parents, which I think is what led to this), and their behavior was much improved. I had to stop my Block 4 class and address their behavior, but once I did it was fine until about the last ten minutes when everyone’s academic stamina just ran out. Again, though, I get it. Vacation was looming.

Mr. F, Ms. A, Mrs. R, and I had a victory celebration in the hallway after students left. Then Ms. H came up to chat briefly because she had some questions for me as her mentor. Then I did the little bit of grading I had to do. And then I left, got coffee, and met a bunch of staff, students, parents, and community members downtown because one of our sports teams won a state championship and they did a bus parade on Main St. The local police and fire departments were their escorts. It was noisy, joyous, and probably confusing to the tourists. And it’s a great way to end the week!

Vacation time now, woohoo!

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turbulentt · 4 years

Text

Just Friends

genre: smut | mingyu × fem!reader

word count: +2.6k

warnings: size-kink, dirty talk, explicit content, unprotected sex, public sex

sumary: you and your psych classmate, kim mingyu, have been friends for a while now and you start to doubt your feelings towards the boy. after testing his limits at his friend’s party, mingyu proves to you that, in fact, you have a crush on the taller boy.

“I’m telling you! It will work.” Mingyu said confident, truly full of himself.

“I don’t believe until I see it. I still think you’re going to get a straight no,” you said playfully while walking through the hallways with the taller man by your side.

Mingyu was sure he could trick one of his friends into hosting a party this weekend, one he already stated he didn’t want to host for like six times, using a luring strategy that you both learned in psych class.

You both walked to the group of boys in the corner of the cafeteria and you could see how people looked at both of you. It wasn’t very surprising though, you have already heard the rumors that roam in the hallways about you and Mingyu being a couple. For you, your relationship was like any other, classmates who casually became friends. Nothing more, right? Well, denying you don’t find him attractive would be a lie, but you don’t really think he’s into you, so you just keep yourself in the same zone of your friendship.

Finally approaching the group of boys you are the first one to be greeted. For some reason, Mingyu’s friends liked you the very moment Mingyu presented you to them. And, thinking about that, you don’t really get why he introduced you to his friends since the two of you are just casual friends that don’t even hang out that much.

“Okay, I get it. She replaced me.” Mingyu faked pouted and turned to Seungcheol. “Hyung.”

“No.” Seungcheol was quick and effective with his response.

“I told you.” you laughed by Mingyu’s side but he just shushed you.

“Just listen to me.” he sat by his side and the elder looked at him with curiosity. “It is not just a regular party. If it was, even I would host it. I’m asking you to do it because it is good for you. You need the status, Hyung.” Mingyu was looking him straight in the eyes and his hands were moving according to his words.

You had to admit, you were quite impressed. He was really using what you had learned in class. His posture struck dominance, one important point to make him win the argument. Mingyu also used the ‘need’ strategy, which is pretty effective when you want someone to be convinced of something. And his hand gestures resembled confidence in what he was saying. You took a quick look at Seungcheol and there was when you knew. Mingyu won the argument.

“You can always say no like you’ve been doing. But I really wanted to explain to you why I’ve been so committed to getting you to host the party.” and there was his final strike. Shit, why did this sudden burst of confidence made him look so hot?

“Fine. I guess you’re right. I’ll host the party.” Seungcheol sighed and laughs could be heard all around the table. “This Friday at eleven. You’re helping me,” he stated and everyone agreed.

Mingyu looked at you from across the table and winked. You rolled your eyes at the boy and felt your phone vibrate. How obnoxious could he be? You were both on the same table but he decided to text you.

Mingyu: I hope you have smth good to wear this Friday

You: Why?

Mingyu: Bc u’re going to the party with us

You: And why would I go?

Mingyu: Bc u want to

You just looked at him with a ‘Really?’ expression for trying to use a psychological trick with you. He just smiled and tilted his head mouthing a ‘Don’t you?’.

You: Sorry, that one doesn’t work with me

Mingyu: Okay, what if I tell u that I want u to go?

You: U do?

Mingyu: Actually I do. Really badly

You just stood there looking at the last text he sent, your heart started racing inside your chest and your breathing was becoming heavier. Since when did he make you feel like that?

Mingyu: Y/N? Why r u blushing?

Defeated by his smugness you just stood up and headed off while quickly saying goodbye to everyone. You had to find something to wear to the party.

[The next friday]

You were standing by Seungcheol’s door regretting your decisions. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to have come. You can always go back. You’re not the party type, that should be obvious for everyone. But, on the other hand, Mingyu has been so excited to see you there. He even texted you the entire day making sure you’d go. You can’t ruin his expectations now. So you just rang the doorbell and waited until the door opened. It burst open and a happy Soonyoung appears.

“Hi,” you said a little shy.

But the older boy just stood there, with his mouth wide open and a famine expression. You then remembered what you were wearing. He must have been struck by your see-through top that showed your black lace bralette.

“H-Hi… Y/N.” his voice sounded shaky and he just looked down while giving space to let you in.

There were already a lot of people in the house, even though it was still early. You looked around, looking for the host. When you found him, you just walked to him. As you passed through, people looked. Guys, girls, everyone was eyeing you from the bottom to the top.

“Cheol Oppa!” you called and he turned to you smiling instantly. “The party is amazing.” you complimented.

“Thank you, Y/N. You look amazing.” he took your hand and made you spin around to look at you. “Are you this beautiful for Mingyu?” he laughed.

“W-what? No. No.” you choked with your own words “I just…” you couldn’t explain, maybe you really were dressed up for him. To make him notice you. “Do I have a crush on Mingyu?” you thought to yourself.

“It’s okay. I was just kidding.” Seungcheol laughs even more “But, just in case you want to know. He’s by the kitchen handling the drinks.” he looks at you with a suggestive look and you just ignore his dirty thoughts while heading to the kitchen. Mingyu was the only person you had more intimacy at that party, even though his friends always took you so well you always felt more comfortable next to him.

As you enter the place the first thing you do is to search for the boy that kept wandering in your thoughts. You spot him next to the beer machine while talking to some random people. You were about to take a step further, however, something stopped you from doing it. A girl was clinging onto his arm, he didn’t seem too comfortable with the girl’s action, but nor did he tried to back up from her touch. Furiously, you take the first drink available and get out of the kitchen before combusting.

“I’m so mad, really mad.” you think to yourself, trying to find a quiet spot to drink without being bothered “Why am I mad though? Am I jealous?” that thought just hits your head like a truck and there you realize what had been tormenting you lately “Fuck, I like him.” you slap your own forehead after listening to your own words.

“Who do you like?” you hear a voice approach, his voice “Hm?” Mingyu’s body was dangerously next to yours and you could already feel his hot breath. You decide not to answer, it would be too much of an embarrassment trying to find an excuse and fail while stuttering. He smirks and raises your head gently by your neck, so he can look at you. You feel intimidated by him, not in a bad way. You feel intimidated at how well his body heat felt. At how strong and tall he was and how easily he could just pick you up at that exact moment and make you his’. “What do you need, Y/N?” Mingyu’s raspy voice whispered next to your ear “Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.”

How could he be such a smug without even trying hard? How could he make your heart feel like it could explode anytime? How could he be so damn handsome standing right in front of you with that infernal gaze?

“I-I…” you couldn’t form words, it felt like your body was pleading for him, but you knew you had to resist the temptation “I need to go.”

You quickly swift away from the taller boy leaving him behind with a frustrated and confused expression.

That party wasn’t even near to be over and you already were a mess. “It’s better to go home.” you think looking back at where you left Mingyu. When your eyes met his’ he just winks and smirks once again. You blush violently and go out the front door with no hesitation.

[The next monday]

“I’m sorry, Cheol. Something happened and I really needed to head off earlier,” you explain yourself to the guy in front of you and he just shrugs. He knew something wasn’t adding up, but he wouldn’t pressure you since he doesn’t really want to bother you. He just left for his class.

The class finally starts and you can feel Mingyu’s burning eyes on you the entire time. He was doing it on purpose because he knows it bothers you and you can’t focus properly when you know someone is watching. On a normal day, you would’ve been mad, but the only thing you could do was blush as look away from him, trying hard no to think of him.

The class seemed endless, like minutes turned into hours, and you could only feel your frustration grow bigger. The teacher sounded more tedious than he ever did and you haven’t been so uninterested in psychology like yo are today. “Fuck you, Mingyu. Get out of my head.” you sigh letting your head rest on the table.

“Class dismissed.” the teacher announces and you couldn’t be happier to hear it. You try to grab your stuff as quickly as possible to exit the classroom, but the more desperate you became to grab things the more clumsy you got. Everyone was almost out when you finally got everything you needed. As you were walking through the door a strong hand pulls you back inside and forces you into the wall.

“Are you going to run away from me again?” he blocked your sides so you wouldn’t have a wait out and lowered his face to meet yours “Are you afraid of me, baby girl?” he bites your earlobe seductively and you let out a small sigh.

“M-Mingyu… I d-don’t.” you try to say but as soon as you feel his big hands grab you by your ass you give in.

“Don’t try to deny me. I know you like me.” he tightens his grip and places wet kisses in your neck “I like you too, baby girl. And I’ve dying to fuck you,” he confesses and you hold your breath surprised. He lifts you up by your ass, pinning you to the wall so you can finally be at the same level as him. “But you’re so small…” Mingyu’s thumb slightly caresses your bottom lip and you just smile at his action “I’m afraid I might break you.”

“Don’t be.” you finally speak up “Break me apart. Fuck me hard.” you moan out in expectation leaving him speechless. But it doesn’t take him to much time to come back to the real world and hungrily take your lips into a heated kiss. As you’re kissing you feel him walk to the nearest table and sitting there. You break apart from the kiss only to start leaving small bites in his neck and desperately looking for his belt.

“You’re so eager for my cock, Y/N.” he throws his head back in amusement and you bite your lip looking at him with innocent eyes. He stares back at you and you can feel the bulge in his pants grow bigger, he was as eager as you. Without wasting any more time you take his pants off, kneeling in front of him and being face to face with his covered erection.

“It looks so… big.” you think to yourself while licking your lips, it must taste really good. Rapidly you free him from his boxers and his bulge sprung to life with full power. “You’re so big…” it’s the only thing you can say after seeing the boy’s cock “Will he fit inside of me?” is the first thought to come to your head.

“Can you take it, baby girl?” he asks gently caressing your cheek “I know you can.” he encourages you to keep going, he really needed to feel your soft lips around him. So you started shy, licking his tip earning some low moans, but, not satisfied, you decided to take it into your mouth as much as you could. Mingyu let out a loud moan and his large hand gripped your hair tightly making you close your eyes. What you couldn’t take in your mouth you pleasured with your hands and you knew how much Mingyu was enjoying it, you could feel how warm and how much his length was pulsing inside of your mouth. “You feel so… so good. Fuck… Y/N.” he moans helplessly.

His grip starts to lose strength and you know he his seconds from coming, so you just deep throat him the best you can. After a long and husky moan, you feel his liquid slide down your throat, swallowing every bit of it while making eye contact with him.

“You’re over now.” Mingyu picks you up and lays you on the table “I hope your little pussy can take me as well as your mouth did.” he groaned undressing you as quick as he could. He hops on the table and lays right on top of you. Again, you felt intimidated, maybe he was right about breaking you. But you were also thirsty for his cock and you couldn’t deny it. Mingyu slides one of his hands through your wet heat and smirks “Is this all for me? So wet…”

He takes his fingers to his mouth and licks them staring straight into your eyes.

“Stop teasing me…” you begged. Not wanting to wait anymore either, Mingyu took his length and placed it in your entrance slowly sliding in, as he also felt like it was quite difficult. “O-Oh fuck…” you moaned loudly.

“You’re so tight, baby…” he panted burying his face in your neck after successfully fully entering you “… but you feel so damn good.” he gave an unexpected thrust and you screamed out his name. “Fuck…” he seemed aroused at the way his name exited your lips.

You slightly moved your hips looking for contact and Mingu started moving. Unlike his kind and sweet self, Mingyu was being rough and going hard. You felt like you were seeing stars and his name kept slipping through your lips “M-Mingyu… Ah yes… Like that…”

Motivated by your pleas, the boy kept hitting you roughly right in your sweet spot, and you knew you wouldn’t last much longer. “Hard… Oh fuck, G-Gyu…” you scratched his back trying not to pass out from so much pleasure.

“Shit, Y/N… I’m coming…” he breathed out, giving his lasts thrusts into you with all the strength he got “Y/N..” he moans low next to your ear after releasing all his liquid inside of you. You cum right after screaming his name so loud that probably the entire university heard it. Mingyu gets out of you slowly and helps you stand up.

“We need to do this more often.” you chuckle dressing yourself up.

“Oh definitely, baby.” he slaps your ass jokingly while watching you walk away from the classroom.

#kpop #kpop smut #seventeen #seventeen smut #svt #svt smut #kim mingyu #mingyu #seventeen mingyu #svt mingyu #mingyu smut #kim mingyu smut #smut

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theliberaltony · 4 years

Link

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg passed away on Friday night — a pivotal moment in the history of the nation’s highest court. Ginsburg’s death is one of the biggest developments yet in 2020, a year that has already included the impeachment of the sitting president, a deadly virus killing nearly 200,000 Americans and an economic collapse. Ginsburg not only reshaped U.S. jurisprudence — in particular, as an advocate for women’s rights — but she became a cultural and political icon too, especially for liberals and progressives.

Indeed, her death, and the fight to fill her seat, may have a number of political implications. Those will become clearer over the next days and weeks, of course, with the election right around the corner, but here’s a first look at what some of those potential implications might be:

1. Republicans have to decide whether they will break from their “no election year confirmations” stance from 2016

Back in 2016, when Senate Republicans blocked the nomination of then-President Barack Obama’s Supreme Court nominee, Merrick Garland, Republican Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell argued that voters should get to choose the president and that president should get to pick the next justice. Then-Justice Antonin Scalia died in February 2016, and Obama nominated Garland that March.

Ginsburg’s death comes even closer to the 2020 election — 46 days away. In all of American history, we have had only two Supreme Court vacancies closer to Election Day than we have now. In both instances, the incumbent president won reelection and nominated a replacement shortly after Election Day. (In terms of the actual confirmation, one was confirmed in December, one in March.) So by historical standards — and, notably, McConnell’s own previous standard — Trump would not nominate anyone unless he won a second term in November, since the election is less than two months away.

Filling a seat this close to the election is unheard of

Supreme Court vacancies in presidential election years, by how many days before the election they occurred and whether a replacement was confirmed before the election

Before election, replacement was… Justice Date of Vacancy Days before Election Nominated Confirmed S. Minton Oct. 15, 1956 22 R. Taney Oct. 12, 1864 27 R. B. Ginsburg Sept. 18, 2020 46 ? ? R. Trimble Aug. 25, 1828 67 J. McKinley July 19, 1852 106 ✓ C. E. Hughes June 16, 1916 144 ✓ ✓ P. V. Daniel May 31, 1860 159 H. Baldwin April 21, 1844 194 ✓ M. R. Waite March 23, 1888 228 ✓ ✓ A. Scalia Feb. 13, 2016 269 ✓ A. Moore Jan. 26, 1804 281 ✓ ✓ J. P. Bradley Jan. 22, 1892 291 ✓ ✓ O. W. Holmes Jan. 12, 1932 301 ✓ ✓ J. R. Lamar Jan. 2, 1916 310 ✓ ✓

In the early 19th century, the election was held over the course of multiple days; the number of days before the election is the number of days before voting began.

Source: U.S. Supreme Court, U.S. Senate

Back in 2016, Democrats pushed forward Garland’s nomination. Unsurprisingly, the parties have now flipped their positions. McConnell said on Friday night that he intends to allow a floor vote to confirm a Trump nominee, while Democrats are suggesting that the winner of the election should choose the next justice.

This is a huge opportunity for Republicans — to have six GOP-appointed judges on the court at once. It is hard to imagine they will pass it up. It’s not guaranteed that 49 of the other 52 Senate Republicans would push forward and support a Trump nominee, particularly if Trump lost the election, but it seems likely.

2. It’s not clear if a confirmation process could finish before the election.

It would be unusually fast to finish the entire confirmation process in less than 46 days, the time left before the Nov. 3 election. (The average confirmation process since the Harry Truman administration has lasted 50 days.) That doesn’t mean there isn’t enough time for Trump to confirm a new justice, but it would be on the fast side.

Nevertheless, it’s possible that sometime in October, a judge has been nominated and perhaps confirmation hearings are taking place, right on the eve of the election. This creates the possibility that Trump loses the election and perhaps Republicans lose control of the Senate, but the lame duck president and some senators who have lost reelection put a justice on the Supreme Court — a move that will enrage Democrats. Alternatively, Trump could win the election and see a new justice appointed before he even begins his second term.

3. Ginsburg’s death creates new dynamics if there is an election-related dispute before the Court

With a 5-4 GOP majority, Chief Justice John Roberts has been a swing vote, and one who occasionally joins with the Court’s Democratic appointees. Whether the court is 5-3 (with Ginsburg’s seat not filled) or 6-3 (with a Trump nominee seated), Democrats would need two votes from GOP-appointed justices to win a case. So if there is some kind of electoral dispute that gets to the court, that’s bad news for Democrats. It raises the specter of a 4-4 tie in a pivotal election-related case, a potential deadlock that could complicate knowing who won the presidential race.

4. The future of the Court is now an even bigger electoral issue

Both parties already intensely cared about the Supreme Court. But now, there is the potential for a Supreme Court nomination (or discussion of an open seat) in the middle of the election. For Trump, this choice is a big opportunity in two ways. First, the Supreme Court nomination process might distract the media and public’s attention away from his mistakes in handling the COVID-19 outbreak and give him a way to galvanize conservatives who really care about judicial nominations and issues like abortion. Secondly, Trump is struggling in particular with women voters. Trump may pick a woman to replace Ginsburg and make his nominee part of his pitch to women voters.

Biden, too, would likely need to talk about judicial issues more and perhaps describe the kind of person he would put in this seat. (He has already promised to nominate a Black woman in the event of a Supreme Court vacancy if he becomes president.) Also, Democratic vice-presidential nominee Kamala Harris is on the Senate Judiciary Committee, so she would be involved in any kind of confirmation process.

This is also now a big issue in Senate races. GOP incumbents like Sen. Martha McSally of Arizona and Sen. Susan Collins of Maine may be faced with the choice of irritating GOP voters if they oppose a Trump pick or irritating more moderate voters if they back someone who is viewed as too conservative. This is a particularly acute issue for Collins, who is struggling in her reelection campaign in part because she backed Trump Supreme Court nominee Brett Kavanaugh in 2018.

More broadly, one of the most divisive elections in America history will now likely be even more tense and fraught.

5. Who Trump chooses is a really big deal

Assuming that Trump opts to nominate someone, who he chooses is a really big deal. With the election looming, does he nominate someone more moderate than he otherwise would have? Does he nominate a woman? A woman of color? Someone with a long record of opinions or someone who is more unknown?

6. If there are six GOP-appointed justices on the Supreme Court, law in America could fundamentally move to the right

This is the most important implication, even if it is not the most immediate. If Trump is able to appoint a justice who is similar in ideology to Neil Gorsuch and Kavanagh, his first two picks, it seems likely that abortion and affirmative action could be severely limited in the future, the Affordable Care Act overturned and a host of other conservative rulings issued. That is not guaranteed, but seems quite possible.

Trump and Republicans putting another justice on the bench either pro or post-election, in the case that he Trump loses, is also likely to trigger an aggressive Democratic response that could have long-lasting implications. Democratic activists were already floating the idea of increasing the number of justices on the Supreme Court to make up for the Garland seat, and I would expect so-called court-packing ideas to accelerate if Trump puts another conservative justice on the court before or right after he loses a presidential election.

#IFTTT #Politics – FiveThirtyEight #politics #538 #Perry Bacon Jr.

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tarontherocketman · 4 years

Text

Mr Madden | Madderton Teacher AU | Chapter 3

TW: MENTION OF SUICIDE NEAR THE END OF THE CHAPTER

It was Friday at last, the week was almost over, and the day started off the same as every other day this week did:

“Mr Madden.”

“Mr Egerton.” The pair smirked at each other as Taron slipped through the partly open door of Rich’s classroom with a mug of coffee in each hand, setting one down on Rich’s desk on the mug coaster that he had brought in from home; a black round coaster with a big golden ‘R’ for Richard. Taron liked that Rich had brought in his own coaster to use, it was one of the many personal touches in his classroom, something Taron had never thought to do in his own.

“I love all your little bits of personal stuff around your desk,” he observed, looking around as he pulled up a chair, leaning over to see the computer screen and resting his chin on Rich’s shoulder. This was something that had become a daily happening out of the blue the morning after their drink at the bar. Neither of them really knew what it meant at this point, their friendship just escalated into a new comfort zone all of a sudden. However, they silently agreed not to overthink it yet, they were both just enjoying having a new best friend.

“You should get some bits for your classroom, you don’t have anything personal in there,” Rich suggested.

“I know, never really thought about it, it’s just a workplace to me.”

“That’s the thing though, we spend so much of our time at work I like making it homely you know?” Rich pondered, looking around at his things trying to think of ideas for Taron’s classroom.

“You’re right Rich, well hey it’s the weekend tomorrow let's go shopping you can help me choose some stuff for my classroom!” Taron declared, to which Rich immediately nodded enthusiastically.

“You are so on! I love doing things like that,” Rich gushed. Taron raised an eyebrow, pulling his chin away from Rich’s shoulder to look at him.

“What? Shopping for homeware and office supplies? Jeez this is why you,” he put his index finger on Rich’s chest, “are older than me,” he teased, scampering up from his chair to run to the other side of the classroom before Rich could attempt to playfully whack him in the arm.

“Three years! Only three years!” Rich pouted, trying not to break into a smile.

“I was only two months away from being a 90s kid you know,” Taron declared proudly, straightening his tie with fake arrogance.

“So close, yet so far, you’re still an 80s kid pal,” Rich laughed, patting Taron’s seat to indicate him to come back. Taron scurried back and barely managed to sit down before Rich got that playful whack on Taron’s arm.

“THAT was for calling me old!” he huffed.

“Ow, calm down Grandpa!” Taron snickered.

“You little shit!” Rich cried before the pair burst into laughter, Taron habitually gripping on to Rich’s forearm as they laughed.

At this moment a tall, sour-faced looking woman walked past the door to the classroom, her hair tied in a neat bun and a school logo lanyard and staff badge round her neck. She peered through the window in the door, narrowing her eyes at the over friendly pair of male teachers. Rich noticed her in his peripheral vision and jerked away from Taron, mumbling a quiet ‘shit’.

“Rich? What’s wrong?” Taron asked, whipping his head around to see what Rich was looking at. “What was it?”

“Uh, Mrs Reynolds just saw us through the window…” Rich mumbled.

“It’s alright she won’t make a fuss of it, we weren’t doing anything, just a bit of fun. Right?” Taron asked nervously, reading Rich’s worried facial expression.

“T, she’s one of the Religious Studies teacher, her classroom his two doors down from here. I know RS teachers and religious people in general don’t all share the same opinion, but I’ve sat in the staff room with her and I happen know exactly what her thoughts on homosexuals are.”

“Ah,” Taron whispered, nodding slowly.

“Yep,” Rich said bluntly.

“Well, she doesn’t know either of us are gay, AND we weren’t even doing anything wrong, so she’s got nothing on us!” Taron assured his best friend, putting his hand on Rich’s leg who pushed his hand off harshly.

“Maybe not yet but she’ll be watching us now! I thought this was exactly what you didn’t want to happen here?” Rich snapped, making Taron flinch slightly from seeing a new emotion in Rich that he hadn’t yet been introduced to.

“I didn’t!” Taron defended, “but- but I suppose it feels different since I met you!”

“Well I’ve only been here a week Taron, and I really don’t want to fuck up another job thank you very much,” Rich hissed, turning back to his computer screen abruptly.

“Another?” Taron asked quickly, now distracted from the original argument.

“Just…pretend I never said that,” Rich murmured, “I need to finish this presentation.” Taron opened and closed his mouth a few times, deciding whether or not to say anything that could potentially make things worse considering he had obviously just hit a nerve. He decided on just leaving it and walking out the classroom quietly. Rich stubbornly kept his gaze fixated on the computer until Taron had left the classroom, making sure he had definitely gone before putting his head in his hands and groaning to himself.

__________________________________________________

The day eventually drew to an end, consisting of some awkward glancing and looking away happening between Taron and Rich when they would inevitably pass each other in the hallway. They had both spent break times in their own classrooms to avoid conversation, not even 100% why they were mad at each other but sticking to it anyway.

“Alright guys I’ll see you next week,” Taron concluded, indicating to his class that they were free to go, which definitely made everyone very happy knowing that they were free for 2 whole days.

“Sir?” a small voice appeared behind Taron.

“Yes, Ella?” he asked, not turning around from his computer.

“You didn’t say have a good weekend, you always say have a good weekend, what’s wrong?” Ella quizzed, surprising Taron with her intuitiveness.

“Someone’s observant,” Taron mused as he swivelled his chair around to face the blonde-haired teenager. Ella just shrugged casually.

“I pick up on these things,” she smiled, her energy rubbing off on Taron, softening him a bit after a rough day. “What’s on your mind?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, just an argument with a friend,” Taron chuckled, almost laughing at his own stupidity in the whole situation, forgetting more and more as the day went on why he was even being so stubborn about talking to Rich.

“Mr Madden?” Ella asked nonchalantly. Taron blinked slowly.

“How’d you…?”

“I told you I pick up on things! I don’t have any friends so I have more time to watch what goes on around me,” Ella admitted, not sure whether to feel proud of her observation skills or embarrassed that she just flat out casually told her Drama teacher that she doesn’t have any friends.

“Hmm you’re even smarter than I thought you were,” Taron grinned, “but yes, Mr Madden.”

“Well, I dunno what you had an argument about but just talk to him about it, you’re gonna have to eventually, no point avoiding it for longer than needed,” Ella said, folding her arms, “trust me, I’ve been there,” she said sadly.

“Yeah, you’re right Ella, thanks.”

“I know,” she shrugged. “Anyway, I need to get the bus before it leaves, see you next week Sir.”

“Alright have a good weekend Ella,” Taron called as she began to speed walk out of the classroom.

“You too!” she called back as she disappeared down the tiny hall and out of the drama block door. Taron sat at his desk in bemusement that a 14 year old had given him better advice than he had given himself, deciding to hurriedly gather all of his stuff together and stride over to Rich’s classroom to talk to him, feeling a little nervous after an entire day of avoiding him. He approached the classroom gingerly, psyching himself up as he walked the hallway before taking a breath and swinging open the door.

“Rich I’m really sorry,” he whimpered, cringing at his own failure to maintain his composure.

“I- Taron!” Rich hissed quietly, nodding to the wide open doorway that Taron was stood in.

“Oh yeah, sorry,” Taron apologised quickly, hopping in the room and letting the door close behind him before starting again.

“I’m sorry I didn’t take things seriously earlier Rich, or, you know- just now,” he chuckled awkwardly.

“No I’m sorry, T, I really overreacted,” Rich said as he softened up.

“No you were right, we need to be more careful, which is why you’re going to come to my house later so we can spend quality time together without prying eyes!” Taron declared confidently.

“Am I now?” Rich asked with a smirk.

“Yep, 7pm, I’ll message you my address,” Taron stated.

“Sounds good to me,” Rich smiled as Taron turned on his heel and walked out of the classroom as confidently as he had walked in, not disappearing for even 10 seconds before poking his head back round through the still open door.

“Oh yeah and we’re going to order pizza, forgot that part of my speech,” Taron confessed, ruining the grand exit he had initially planned.

“Speech?” Rich laughed, “alright Obama. I’ll see you later,” he shook his head fondly at his best friend’s solid attempt at being charming.

_____________________________________________________

Taron jumped up from the sofa excitedly upon hearing the knock on his apartment door, smoothing out his t-shirt even though it wasn’t actually creased and attempting to check his own breath by breathing into his hand and smelling it, realising it didn’t work and settling on just opening the door without fussing around any further.

“Hey Ri- oh,” he laughed nervously as the open door revealed his neighbour from across the hall.

“Hey Taron, uh, the delivery guy gave me your package to look after when you weren’t in earlier.”

“Ah lovely, thanks Jerry,” he took the package, closing the door with one last polite smile to his neighbour.

Typical, he thought to himself, that would only happen to him. Another knock on the door caused him to discard the package on the dining table before he could start opening it. He pulled the door open carefully, not wanting to get too excited this time.

“Oh good it’s you this time,” he smiled, opening the door fully to let his best friend in.

“You what?” Rich queried, looking puzzled at Taron having no previous context for why Taron would say that.

“Never mind, come in!” he gestured to the sofa that wasn’t too far from the door, heading to the kitchen that was a part of the open plan floor.

“Can I get you a drink?” he offered politely, opening the cupboard to grab two glasses in advance.

“Sure, what have you got?” Rich asked.

“Well good sir it depends whether you’re in the mood for something sophisticated like a scotch,” he began pompously, “or just…a glass of lemonade,” he finished casually.

“Taron,” Rich paused, “I’m Scottish, what do you think the answer is?”

“One scotch coming up,” Taron said assuredly as he poured the drink, Richard replied with a single, proud nod.

“Here,” Taron said, placing the drinks on the coffee table in front of them.

“Thanks,” Rich replied as he leaned over to grab the drink and take a sip. Taron slumped down next to him on the sofa and sighed a long sigh of relief that the week was over.

“Yeah, I’m glad it’s the weekend too,” Rich agreed, feeling Taron’s sigh as if it was his own.

“Yeah, been quite a week,” Taron noted.

“It has indeed.”

“How was your first week as a teacher then?” Taron asked.

“Better than I expected, I was worried that the students would all find my classes boring and I wouldn’t make any friends. Turns out they like me, they like my teaching, and I did make friends. In fact I made a best friend,” Rich said as he looked into Taron’s kind eyes.

“Aww, Rich! Well that’s good to hear.”

“How was your week?” Rich asked in return.

“Eh,” Taron shrugged, “just another week, nothing special happened really,” Taron pondered, looking forward because he knew if he made eye contact with Rich he would start laughing.

“Oi!” Rich laughed, folding his arms and looking away in a fake huff.

“Joking!” Taron chirped, turning back around and wrapping both arms round Rich, reaching around his shoulders. Rich reciprocated by placing his hands on Taron’s arms. Taron rested his head on Rich’s shoulder, who rested his head against Taron’s head, deciding this was how they would stay now for a bit. Rich habitually rubbed his right thumb on the bit of Taron’s arm that his right hand was placed on.

“Did you want to talk about earlier?” Taron asked cautiously.

“What? The argument, or why I fucked up my last job?” Rich mused.

“I was going to let you decide that.”

“Honestly I don’t really want to talk about either right now, let’s just enjoy the moment. I’ll tell you about the job another time though because I can tell you’re curious.”

“Yeah I am a bit,” Taron admitted, “wait, did you just call this a moment? Are we having a moment?” he teased.

“Mm maybe,” Rich breathed, lifting his head to look at Taron, who looked straight back into Rich’s bright blue eyes, scooting closer to him. Both of their breathing quickened in anticipation as Taron pulled his arms away and placed his hands on either side of Rich’s face, rubbing his thumbs over his cheek bones before pulling him in. He could smell the scotch on Rich’s breath as their lips brushed against each other for a moment before Rich got impatient and reached around the back of Taron’s neck, pulling him in so their lips meet properly. Taron moved his hands to wrap around Rich’s torso, working them up and down his back. The sunset made the last bit of sun for the day shine perfectly through the crack in the curtains, hitting them both perfectly as they shared this moment for a while longer.

“Wow,” Taron breathed heavily as he pulled away gently.

“Yeah,” Rich breathe-laughed. “I only met you a week ago,” he teased, imitating what Taron had said at the bar at the start of the week.

“And what an amazing week it’s been,” Taron imitated back, copying Rich’s response.

“Indeed it has! You hungry?”

“Oh god yes, pizza?” Taron said excitedly.

“Fuck yes.”

________________________________________________________

The weekend had passed by in what felt like an hour, and there they were again. Monday morning, the worst day of the week because everyone in the school- teachers and students alike- know it’s only the beginning of a potentially long, hard week. The day started the same as any other, which always consisted of:

“Mr Madden.”

“Mr Egerton.”

Followed by a coffee and catch up, except today it was in Taron’s classroom to admire the new bits and bobs Rich had helped him choose out on the weekend. There was a black mug coaster with a golden T on the desk to match Rich’s, one of those light-boxes that you can organise the letters on to write a message, which Rich had spelled out “Mr Egerton” on, there was a new 2020 desk calendar that Rich had convinced Taron to get done at a personalised calendar shop in the mall with one of his favourite plays on each month, a notebook with the letter ’T’ on the front, and a matching ’T’ pen pot too.

Rich journeyed to his classroom a few minutes before the bell was due to ring, at which point students began to file into Taron’s classroom, he wrote the date and learning objective on the board as the class took their time to settle, before sitting at his desk to call out the register, going name by name with a ‘here sir’ mumbled in reply after each name by the relevant student.

“Ella,” he called, getting no response. The entire atmosphere in the room changed, bringing a grossly enhanced meaning to ‘elephant in the room’.

“What?” Taron quizzed, looking around and his class, getting nothing back.

“Guys?” he asked, starting to get antsy, “anyone?”

“Didn’t you hear?” one of the girls in his class spoke up.

“Hear what?” Taron began to panic, thinking about how he was the first in the staff room when he got him and Rich’s coffee so he hadn’t actually seen any other teachers yet. No one in the class dared to speak a word, all looking down uncomfortably at their desks.

“Taron!” Rich burst in the room and exclaimed, but then coughing awkwardly and correcting himself to “Mr Egerton.”

“Um, Rich what’s going on?” Taron whispered so the students wouldn’t hear him, failing miserably considering you could hear a pin drop in the room at that moment, he ushered Rich out of the classroom and pulled the door shut behind them.

“I’m sorry I only just found out when I put the mugs back in the staff room just now I came straight back,” Rich said, out of breath from jogging back to Taron’s classroom, trying to make it before class started.

“What is it?!” Taron persisted, urging Rich to hurry up and spit it out.

“Ella overdosed last night.”

Taron’s eyes went wide, tears beginning to form that he tried to desperately blink away.

“-what?” he squeaked, his voice barely making a sound.

“She’s alive,” Rich assured, placing his hands on Taron’s shoulders.

“Is she going to be okay?” Taron whispered.

“I- I don’t know, T, we can only hope for now, I’m sorry,” he admitted, pulling Taron into a tight hug, letting the now silently sobbing man bury his face into his chest.

“I should have done more,” he mumbled into Rich’s shirt.

“Don’t say that-”

“No,” Taron cut Rich off, “this is the part of being a teacher I never wanted to experience, she trusted me and I didn’t do enough to protect her I should have looked more into it and talked to the head teacher or her parents or, I don’t know,” he rambled, “I spoke to her on Friday at the end of class and she could tell I was upset about our argument and cheered me up but I didn’t bother asking how she had been doing and-”

“T, you’re her teacher not her Dad, she’s not your responsibility,” Rich persuaded.

“She is when she’s at school Rich! Part of being a teacher is keeping them safe and I failed.”

“I know, I know,” Richard soothed “but she did this outside of school, at home, not at school, you can’t blame yourself for this, please stop blaming yourself,” Rich rubbed Taron’s back, trying to calm him down knowing that he has to go back in that classroom and teach sooner or later. He pulled away from Taron, drying his damp cheeks with his sleeves. “Look, go clean yourself up, I’ll watch your class for a minute I’ve got a free period ok?”

“Thanks, Rich,” Taron smiled weakly, patting Rich on the shoulder and walking off to the bathroom to clean up. Staring at himself in the mirror thinking about how after such a lovely weekend, this is how Monday morning starts. He knew for certain that it was going to be a long week ahead.

__________________________________________________

Ahhhh hi! I was SO nervous to post this but here it is, I decided I’d try out a few things in this chapter to see how you guys react to it which is why it’s quite long, just to make sure my writing is going in the right direction you know? Anyway if it’s more cute Madderton moments you’re waiting for I can tell you now that’s coming in the next chapter; now that I’ve done my drama/romance/angst experiment heh, so yeah I really hope you lot like it <3

Tag list: @taron-eggmcmuffin @coffeetalkbaby @nataschalenasblog

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honestandsincere · 5 years

Text

musicality

O C T O B E R 2 0 1 9 / / E L R E Y T H E A T R E ‘ S B A T T L E O F T H E B A N D S

There are certain moments in life in which one can tell are important. Even without the benefits of hindsight, you just know that whatever is happening is pivotal, memorable. Life is appreciated retrospectively until you are submerged in scenarios and situations that seem significant.

Ethan knows this is important, he's known this for a while. He's had time to mentally prepare himself for the sudden surge of dread that washes over him, the stickiness of his palms and the tsunamis of self-doubt. This is a big moment, it will be a big moment, and he does not need hindsight to figure this out. He feels as though he's in some coming-of-age Disney Channel movie his sister used to watch when she'd monopolize the television during summer vacations. Ethan's worked hard for this, he just doesn't want to play a sepia montage of childhood to understand this moment's importance.

He thinks of his first-ever music lesson, with Mr Schumer in first grade. He remembers the maracas being nauseatingly sticky and the tambourine's tiny cymbals being stuck together by some unidentifiable congealed substance. His backside was numb from being sat crosslegged on the linoleum floor, his legs tingling with pins and needles, but he remembers feeling overwhelmingly happy. The tinny ringing of the background disk hummed in the stuffy classroom air as innocently unrhythmic arms shook instruments violently, grins plastered on lunch-stained faces. Ethan tastes peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

He ran into Mr Schumer a few weeks back, in the supermarket. He was buying wine for his wife, he'd told Ethan it was their fifteen-year anniversary. This made Ethan feel old, he recalled a clean-shaven young man bringing his girlfriend into their classroom on a Friday afternoon, subjecting her to their inquisitive eyes and naively inappropriate questions. Mr Schumer knew about the band, he said he'd seen them on posters plastered on street corners, even heard the odd song on the local radio station. Apparently, he always knew that Ethan would pursue music, or at least something creative. This was strange because Ethan was never prodigal or exceptionally good, he must have been enthusiastic.

Ethan thinks about the first time he really listened to music. It was when he and his father had taken a drive out of town to fetch the Christmas tree from a family friend's farm. Grayson could barely breathe through his clogged sinuses and Cameron was helping their mother assemble a gingerbread house, too afraid to face the cold. Ethan reckons he must have been around six. Just him and his dad in their car. This was when he'd first been introduced to The Beegees, his father urging him to appreciate 'proper' music. Ethan relives the fact he was unable to comprehend why Barry, Robin and Maurice were singing in such high-pitched voices, marvelling at their ability to not sound stupid. 'I know your eyes in the morning sun' were words he'd soon know but not fully understand, as familiar as the taste of cinnamon and cloves.

"You nervous?"

His brother's lumbering entrance cracks open his blissful reverie. Grayson looks positively terrified, his face pale and eyebrows drawn inward into an unsettling crease. His frame fills the doorframe, blocking the neon lighting of the hallway. The dressing room falls dim. Ethan licks his lips in search of words but decides to shake his head anyway.

"You know, nerves are good. They mean you give a shit, and that's important."

Ethan doesn't reply. Grayson, suddenly alarmed by his silence continues. "Everyone believes in you, E. You guys have got this in the bag - like you've basically already won. Pretty much everyone in the crowd is wearing a SU t-shirt."

Ethan turns to look at himself in the mirror. Sadly, it is not framed with dying lightbulbs, it's not particularly atmospheric. He notes that he doesn't look especially nervous or apprehensive, he looks normal. Griff had told him to dress nice, Ethan does not really know what that means. He settled for black jeans and an oversized white t-shirt, he looks like himself. "If you wanna talk about it, you know, vent and like let everything out, you can-" "I'm fine, Gray." "That's the kind of shit nervous people say." "I'm not nervous." "OK," Grayson does not sound very convinced, he rolls his eyes at his brother's stoicism, "Griff and Manny have gone for a drink." "I know." "Are they planning on getting drunk or something?" "They're getting coffee." "Oh."

Ethan runs a tattooed hand through his hair, purposefully dishevelling it to his desired look. He gives himself another glance in the mirror, then turns to sit on the fake leather couch the venue has provided them, crossing one leg over the other. Maybe he should have accepted Griff's invitation to join them on their venture for coffee, he feels encased in the grimy walls of their dressing room. Grayson appears jittery; he fiddles with the signet ring on his index finger, twisting it relentlessly. This is his first time backstage and it shows.

"Mom and Cam are in the audience," he says once he's bored of his heirloom jewellery. "Mom's here?" Ethan can't tell whether the knowledge of his mother's presence in the crowd makes him feel better or worse. "In merch and all." "Jesus."

Ethan imagines his mother being thrown about in the sweat-drenched mosh, her perfectly styled hair getting tousled by rambunctious, inebriated youths. He can picture her grimace, grinning through the pain for the sake of her son, singing words she's not too fond of but were written in her garage. She never really wanted him to pursue the band, she didn't think it would amount to anything worthwhile; a trio of slightly overzealous boys writing songs about girls who listen to The Smiths and drink vodka straight. Ethan's mother loves him, she wants the best for him and until the video of the boys performing a Beatles song when viral on YouTube, she had assumed law school was the way to go.

"Don't let Manny curse," Grayson's eyes are wide with trivial fear. "I can't make any promises."

It's incredibly naive to assume that Manny won't speak profanely onstage, it's very rare that he does not. Being on the synthesizer, he is restricted from engaging with the crowd the same way in which Griff, their frontman can. Manny has developed an affinity for screaming various explosives into his mic as the beat drops in their more upbeat songs, grinning wide with unabashed pride as the audience cheers in response. Both Ethan and Grayson know their mother will not be impressed, it's almost as though they are constantly trying to prove to her that this was the right decision. Letting them move to Los Angeles to follow their dreams was not an easy thing for her to do, they knew this all too well.

"Do you know which song you're gonna play?" Grayson moves to perch himself against the precarious dressing table, his broad frame covering the mirror entirely, "Probably There's a Reason Why." "Nice," he elongates the vowel. "It's the video that has the most views, we're assuming that it's the one that people are most likely to know." "Smart move."

Griffin Fraser is trustworthy. Of all people, Grayson Dolan would know this. When he scuffed his knee on the kindergarten tarmac on their first day of school, to when his collarbone popped out on the football field during their championship game, Griff was there. With floppy hair and a tendency to speak almost irritatingly slowly, Griff has always been a hit with the ladies, swanning his way through school at the top of the hierarchy. As Grayson's best friend and Ethan's bandmate, it's almost as though he's their triplet - a third Dolan brother. His voice sounds like the lovechild of a Gallagher brother and an indistinguishable eighties superstar that everyone's uncle adores. Griff calls the shots and nobody complains.

"What are Patchwork gonna play?" "I overheard their Stefan talking to one of the runners, I didn't recognise the song's name. That can't be a good thing."

Ethan shakes his head in denial, Patchwork are good. LA natives with catchy melodies and heavy bass, they're popular at house parties and with those lighting spliffs in their parents' basements. Ethan listens to them himself, he likes their stuff. With three edgy musicians oozing sex appeal and singing about problematic boyfriends and systematic sexism, they are always crowd-pleasers. This battle had become a war as soon as El Rey had announced that the competition would pit Sunday’s Unrest (Ethan’s band) against Patchwork. Things get personal when bands are compared, particularly when they are familiar with one another. Ethan is too familiar with Patchwork. Too caught up in figuring out whether this familiarity is a blessing or a curse. "I wouldn't worry about them, E." "This is a competition, I'm supposed to worry." "Not if you're the best band." "That's not up to you to decide." "Unfortunately."

There's a laugh from outside. A loud, ferocious female laugh that has Ethan and Grayson sharing a confused look. She waltzes into the room without knocking on the opened door, her hair fanning behind her. "No way were you just listening to our conversation," the younger twin groans, running a hand over his face. "This is a competition," she mocks, a smirk taking over her flushed face and Ethan wishes he doesn’t recall how her lips taste, "I'm supposed to eavesdrop."

Ethan rolls his eyes at her, not being able to believe the fact he hadn't seen this coming. The intimidation tactic. Sending Y/N Y/L/N into their dressing room as a means of psyching the band out, getting into his head. Dangling the most brilliant prize in front of him, only to snatch it away with his own regret. It’s just him and her. And his brother. "Nice to see you, Y/N," he deadpans, untangling his legs and sitting upright on the couch. "You too, E," she leans against the doorframe and crosses her arms over her chest.

Y/N Y/L/N could easily be the face of her generation. She's just too cool. In a worn looking Paul McCartney T-shirt and a black miniskirt, Y/N exudes confidence. Her effortlessly messy hair has been tucked behind her ears, showing an array of silver studs in her lobes. An embodiment of edgy, the perfect frontwoman. Patchwork burst onto the music scene a few years ago, garnering attention with their memorable choruses and ability to soundtrack melancholy lyrics with an upbeat melody. Y/N, a personable and eccentric vocalist and guitarist, is venerated by many a journalist. Her interviews go viral online as she giggles and charms her way through somewhat tricky questions, always relatable and consistently loveable. There's Maria on the drums. She's rather quiet, not usually partaking much in press events but is gorgeous nonetheless, in a mysterious nobody-can-tell-what-she's-thinking-but-they-want-to-know-everything-about-her kind of way. Sara is on bass, she's the funny member of the band, hilariously clumsy and adorable. Her self-deprecating sense of humour makes her a hit with audience members as she cracks jokes at her own expense during their sets. Patchwork are the whole package, people either want to sleep with them or be them. It's almost irritating how perfect they are.

"How've you been, Y/N?" Grayson asks politely, cocking his head to one side as though the analyze her every detail. "Not too bad, I'm a little nervous though," there's an edge to her voice that sounds sincere, Ethan wants to feel sympathy for her because he can empathize wholeheartedly. But, she's competition and he desperately wants to detach any feeling from her. Grayson nods his head slowly, unsure of what to say. It's as though he doesn't want to offer her comfort in fear that it might give her a sudden boost of confidence which, in turn, would lead to Patchwork winning the competition. Is he a sadist?

"What song are you guys playing tonight?" Y/N looks at Ethan almost hopefully. He figures there's no harm telling the truth, "There's a Reason Why." "I like that one." "Yeah, me too."

Grayson senses some uneasiness in the room, as though they're dancing around a topic that he is utterly unaware of. It's like they're communicating telepathically or something. He feels a slight pang of jealous, telepathy is his and Ethan's thing. "What about you, Y/N?" he asks, despite knowing the answer. "If I Could Change Your Mind," she shrugs, "it's kind of an old one." "I know it," Ethan says with a certain intensity that makes her pout a little, her bottom lip jutting outwards ever so slightly. "I expect to see you singing along then," Y/N says, looking at him intently before turning on her heel and walking out through the opened door.

"May the best band win!" she calls from down the corridor.

---- D E C E M B E R 2 0 1 8 / / A N U N K N O W N B A R I N L A

The room is gently spinning. The edges of objects like tables and chairs are soft and blur into one another. This is a suitable state of tipsy. Appropriate. Enjoyable but sensible, knocking the edge off. Ethan, Manny and Griff are celebrating. Charlamagne just went gold and they could not be happier. They're not even twenty-one but their management (consisting of a middle-aged man named Stefan) snuck them into this indistinctive bar downtown, buying rounds of drink and clapping each of the boys on the back.

"We've made it," Manny slurs, "We've actually fucking made it. Shit. Fuck." "I know," Griff's eyes are wide and he looks as though he's seeing in colour for the first time in his life, "this is insane." "Really insane," is all Ethan can manage.

He sips at his whisky, unable to distinguish whether he enjoys the burn it leaves in his throat. He's never gone out drinking before, only ever passed around a bottle of wine or gotten pissed of Manny's dad's beers in their basement. This is what being a rockstar tastes like, he thinks. Ethan called Grayson a few hours ago to tell him the news. Then he'd called his mother and then his grandmother and then his aunt and then he'd shoved his phone into his back pocket and shaken his head in disbelief. The song he's written. The song he'd shown Griff and asked for some help with. The song Manny said was shit, to begin with, but then actually really liked once they got to play it. Charlamagne. Gold.

"We're fucking famous," says Manny, puffing out his chest a little. "Sort of," Ethan half laughs. "Three boys from New Jersey with weird music tastes," Griff muses, "this is the kind of shit they make movies about." "Indie movies," Ethan clarifies.

He lets his eyes roam across the room for a second, dancing over the warped figures in his drunken haze. And that's when he sees her. The girl he'd hooked up with within the first month of moving to Los Angeles. The one with the weird taste in music like him, with the messy hair and wide smile and obnoxious laugh. It had been at Griff's apartment, (it was essentially a room in an almost dilapidated building, Griffin used words like 'rustic' and 'charming' in order to describe it) she'd flirted nonchalantly with him and he was slightly enamoured. Ethan thought she was perfect; her snide remarks at Manny's bad jokes, the way she and her bandmates acted like sibling rather than colleagues and the way she told him his Jersey accent was impossibly strong. Ethan doesn't think he has an accent. They'd vanished into Griff's 'bedroom', high on adrenaline and Manny and Sara's secondhand smoke. Neither of them was intoxicated, and yet the night is a blur of tangled limbs and sheer excitement with flashes of clarity in her laugh and smile.

Y/N Y/L/N.

She's here with her band too, he remembers that Stefan is also their manager. They are good. Stitchwork? Crochet? Patchwork. "Holy shit! It's Maria! And Sara! Fucking hell, Y/N!" Manny yells, drawing the attention of all the drinkers in the velvet-adorned room.

The three girls seem so glide towards them, catching eyes and throwing smiles in all directions like confetti. Ethan notices that Stefan catches them before Patchwork meets Sunday's Unrest. Their manager is gesticulating wildly, causing Y/N to chuckle, Maria to snort and Sara rolls her eyes mockingly. He thinks maybe Stefan is warning them of the state of the boys' drunkenness as if to preface their meeting with a few words of caution. Ethan figures this is sensible.

"Get over here!" Manny howls, waving his heavy arms above his head like he's drowning in a cola and Bacardi riptide. "If it isn't Captain Fuckboy and his devout followers!" Sara retorts, swaggering past her manager and straight towards the boys' booth. Griff's eyebrows draw inwards, "Sara, are you pissed?" "Pissed off," she shrugs, folding her arms over her leather-clad chest and glaring at Ethan Dolan with intensity.

Shit.

"Oh," Manny is as smug as a younger sibling, grinning at Ethan with little camaraderie, "you're talking about Ethan." "You know I am." "Listen, neither Manuel or I am responsible for our bandmate's endeavours," Griffin attempts to sound unfazed. Ethan has nothing to say, he feels his cheeks heating up with what could be embarrassment or shame, but he's reached the stage of drunkenness in which all emotions bleed into a melancholic mess.

Sara ignores both of the floppy-haired boys, her stare focusing on Ethan, "You could have called her, or texted her. She really liked you."

Ethan Dolan is not a douchebag. He does not mess girls around, he never has and doubts he ever will. But he slipped up when it comes to Y/N Y/L/N. To say he is intimidated by her is a pathetic excuse, but it's the closest he can come to an explanation. Guys like him do not get with girls like her, she's too cool. He was scared, terrified of his imminent failure when it comes to dating. So he decided it would be best if he pretended their encounter never happened. It gave him peace of mind for maybe an hour or so. "I didn't think Y/N wanted to pursue anything," is what comes out of his mouth, his voice sounds alien.

"You're a dick, Ethan."

----

O C T O B E R 2 0 1 9

Grayson Dolan waits until the girl in the Paul McCartney t-shirt is out of earshot. He listens to the rhythmic clicking of her ankle-boots on the hallway floor, hearing them fade until he and his brother are sat in silence. "Remind me when you wrote the song," he says. "Excuse me?" "Remind me when you wrote There's A Reason Why." "I don't know, man. Like this time last year?" Ethan knows exactly when he wrote it, he can tell you which room it was written in. "Right," his brother doesn't sound convinced.

It's about Y/N. It's blatantly obvious that Ethan Dolan wrote the song about her. Or at least about that night in the unknown bar, avoiding her the whole time they were there. It's about how she tried to make conversation with him, asking him if he's been busy, fishing for clues as to why he never replied to her texts or answered her calls.

Y/N does not chase anyone, she gets chased. Ethan Dolan was the only exception. He was worth chasing. She reached out to him maybe five or six times, kicking herself when she'd been ignored. She's better than that and she knew it.

Ethan puffs air through his lips, drumming his palms quickly on his thighs and stands up. He stretches his tense arms out in front of him, shaking away his apprehension. This is too important, this opportunity is too big. He can't let himself fall into the chasm of anxious thoughts, all the 'what ifs' and 'maybes'.

"I'm gonna go find Griff and Manny," he rasps.

----

D E C E M B E R 2 0 1 8

He can't feel his hands. He watches his fingers press down on the stiff keys, he hears the sound it makes. But his hands are numb. His head spins, his chest burning with the leftover alcohol. He'd staggered into his apartment, making a beeline for his bedroom. Ethan needs to write, or at least map out a melody for a tune that's swimming around in his head. He's a drummer by nature, rhythms are practically ingrained in his identity, but this melody is so salient in his mind that he has no choice but to get it out.

'There's a reason why I never returned your calls I wish I could forget it all But I never returned your calls 'Cause I'd fall in again'

He hums as he mixes various chords. The electronic ring of the Casio comforting his dissociated haze. Seeing her has brought it all back, the fear. Ethan needs her out of his system and the best way to dispel her lingering legacy is through his lyrics. He won't sing them because he's not a singer, he can't slur notes together smoothly the way Griffin can, his pronunciation is not as seductive or as nice to listen to. Ethan carries the tune. Pulling out his phone from the back pocket of his jeans, Ethan records the succession of chords he's just haphazardly composed.

G. C. G. C. D. C.

It's lighthearted, it sounds like a synth-pop song that his mother would hum in the car as she drove him and his brother to football practice. The chords are simple and memorable, but his lyrics need to explain what he's feeling. How he has felt.

'Don't talk I'd have run to kiss your mouth Is it me Or just a dream that never dies?'

The words are forming effortlessly, flowing into one another without much of a struggle. Ethan reminds himself that he is very drunk and it is very likely that this sounds really awful, but he keeps going, somehow recording a few verses and the skeletons of a bridge. He likes it. He'd listen to it if it was being played on the radio, maybe he'd even turn it up. Manny could work wonder with some kind of synth-riff melody hybrids he conjures up when they rehearse. Griff could add some quirkiness with his performance, maybe changing up the melody a little to suit his voice. Ethan plays the recording back to himself, cringing at how bare his voice sounds. It's raspy and sonorous, but the melody is clear and is catchy. He taps out a beat on his legs, imagining the song post-production. He closes his eyes, trying his best to picture the band onstage, seeing the faces of thousands of enthused fans belting the lyrics he's just written. The music video would have to be eighties inspired, perhaps they could hire some dancers or something or film it in a proper studio.

He's tempted to crawl to his drum set that currently lives in his living room. He wants to play on top of the recording, hear it properly. Ethan's limbs are too heavy, his body weak with tequila and guilt. How was he to know that Y/N actually liked him? Jesus, he is stupid. Ethan wants to apologise to her but he knows that would make him look bad, desperate even. As if sliding back into her text messages to say sorry for pretending their little rendezvous didn't happen would somehow make her want him again. Sorry is a great word, but it only goes so far.

Ethan must have fallen asleep at the keyboard. He wakes the next morning to light streaming through his opened blinds. Head pounding, nausea pulsing through him. He needs water and an aspirin.

This song is a fucking bop.

------

O C T O B E R 2 0 1 9

She's gorgeous. Otherworldly in the misty blue lights of the stage. She looks back at Maria, watching the brunette hits out a count of four with her sticks. Sara strums a chord, enticing the audience into the introduction of their song; a twang of the guitar and a heavy beat. On each accent, she throws her head back, her grin lighting up her face. The lights change colour to dusty pink, framing the girls and encapturing their beauty. Everyone has been sucked into their world, desperate to live in it.

Y/N presses her lips to the mic, tucking her hair behind her ear to keep it from her eyes. She glances at the people lining the front of the stage, smirking knowingly. She has them wrapped around her finger. On the cue of her voice, the beat drops. Maria pushes on with the pounding rhythm, hypnotizing and sharp. Sara quickly plucks a riff that has even Manny cheering.

'No Please don't cry I've never done this before Drove a million miles'

She's breathing melodically as if music pours from her soul. Y/N doesn't even look like she's trying, hitting every punch of the beat with her body. Swaying side to side as she fills the auditorium with high tempo melancholy. Ethan is so in awe of her. He wants her presence, wants to be that good of a performer. He's jealous of Maria's ability to keep perfect time, even as they play live. He wants to play the bass guitar with Sara's dexterity and verve. He wants Y/N.

'If I could change your mind I would hit the ground running It took time to realize And I never saw it coming Forgive my lying eyes Gonna give you all or nothing If I could change your mind I could make you mine, make you mine'

It's a great song. Like Grayson had mentioned earlier, it's not one he recognises. However, as he looks out into the mismatched faces of the audience, he notices that the majority of them seem to know the words. People are singing along, screaming and dancing. He wonders if his mother is enjoying, if Cameron is impressed. He certainly is.

"They're good, E," Grayson yells over the amps from behind him. "I know." "I wonder if this one's about you."

He does not have to turn around to see the smirk on his brother's face. This song is not about him, Y/N would never immortalise him in music. He's not great enough. There’s nothing to say that Maria or Sara did not write this song, it’s not exactly explicit. This song has a deep sentimental value to someone, his relationship (if it can even be called that) with Y/N is not one of deep sentimental value. Yes, it’s the main cause of all his daydreams - but it’s not love. He loves the idea of being in love with her, reckons he probably could fall in love with her within a few days. It’s utterly terrifying when it’s put into practice.

She turns to the wings, grinning at Manny who is bopping fiercely along to the tune. It’s as if the world presses the fastforward button on its remote when her eyes meet his. Everything rapidly speeds up, it’s almost headache-inducing. She’s narrowed her glitter-lined eyes gently, as if to focus on his features, to gauge whether or not he’s enjoying her performance. Y/N brings the mic to her lips, juts out her hip and sings to him. Regardless of whether or not the song was written about him or even written by her, this bit stings;

‘But if I was to say I regret it Would it mean a thing?’

Battles in the music world are dangerous, in the same way they are common. Battles in the music world with unexplored and unfinished feelings are incredibly perilous, in the same way they are uncommon. Ethan takes a deep breath.

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

Hello! Long time no see! I’ve been so confused recently, but I was inspired by the lovely @ethanhes‘ post of a sort of band-inspired collage. I hope you guys like this! I’ve used Blossoms and HAIM’s music for each band, I just really love the vibe of the music and the lyrics seemed too appropriate! Lots of love x

#ethan dolan #ethan dolan imagine #ethan dolan fanfic #ethan dolan one shot #ethan x reader #grayson dolan #grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan one shot #grayson dolan x reader #dolan twins #dolan twins imagine #dolan twins fanfic #dolan twins blurb #dolan twins oneshot

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art-by-rozzai · 5 years

Text

band au headcannons? more likely than u think

tbh i just love found family tropes and band tropes and platonic lamp is the shit

HERE WE GO FOLKS

it’s the schools fault really. it starts as some stupid music theory project where virgil is forced to make friends once again, and do all of the work yet get none of the credit. the requirements seem simple enough-find three-four different instruments and write a song about something you all have felt before

when patton hart, the one of the only kids who’s ever made an attempt to talk to him, asks virgil to join his group of three, virgil decides he’s got nothing to lose and agrees.

virgil plays keyboard/piano and sings. his voice is really good, sounds a lot like tyler joseph from twenty øne piløts. (remember that lmao) his keyboard is his life-the only thing that’s able to help him through his anxiety is music. it’s a lifeline for him. virgil’s keyboard is plain black when the band starts, but when they start to become more mainstream, logan and roman buy virgil a purple piano and paint on a lightning theme. he loves it.

patton plays drums. he started playing because of his fidgeting-he was always tapping his fingers on something and decide to make the best of it!! his drums are a light blue set. (later, clouds are painted on them by roman and virge). playing music is one of his favorite things, but he wishes he had people to play with. his solo group is missing something-so, he starts by asking logan croft, straight a student, validictorian and the band’s best bassist. lo says he might as well, and types his number into patton’s phone before offering a small smile and heading to his next class. then, he talks to roman prince-an incredible gutairist and singer, the lead in almost ever school musical.

logan plays bass. (and cello, but that’s not as important for the story lmao) he likes bass because while it doesn’t stand out the most, it’s crucial to carrying the melody of the song. his bass is decorated completely in a space theme-stars and galaxies line up the sides and the strings have been replaced from black to white. roman and patton worked together to create it and gave it to him for his 15th birthday present. it’s the only gift he’s cried over receiving

roman plays gutair/uke. he also sings a lot, but doesn’t like it as much unless it’s for the school play, where he isn’t worrying about playing an instrument at the same time. the double tasking can screw up his playing a lot. he learned uke first, after obsessing over dodie clark videos. he plays a tenor uke that he decorated with disney stickers, usually on covers because it’s sounds really good with his voice. he plays acoustic and electric gutair, but he seriously prefers acoustic. he decorated his light wood gutair with hand drawn roses in different shades of red. it’s his prized possession.

so now these three friends and one acquaintance are partners! (yay!!) patton sends them all a text to meet at his house on friday, and bring instruments and a smile. virgil shows up ten minutes late (not enough to be rude but enough to not seem too excited) and carries in his keyboard. he takes a seat next to logan, who is sprawled across the couch scribbling into a notebook.

after a few games of never have i ever to get to know one and other more (patton insisted) the four began to work. they discuss topics to write about and suddenly find themselves having a really deep conversation about life and death and feeling meaningless

and they relaize that maybe they have more in common then they thought.

so they start writing. and playing. and writing. and playing. it takes three sessions before they write their first song-it’s called taxi cab. (listen to the tøp song bcuz it’s that but add in bass and a bit of uke)

when the project is turned in, they get an a, and virgil is surprisingly upset he won’t see these friends again. until patton starts inviting him to hang out with them more. and suddenly he feels like he didn’t have a life before patton, logan and roman. everything is going great-he gets to bake and laugh with patton, read and stargaze with logan and watch movies and complain about drama with roman. life is perfect.

until roman suggests they put the song on his yt channel and things start to get crazy. after much arguing, virgil agrees on one condition-they’re faces must be blocked out. romans cool with it, deciding to create a cool thumbnail and simply play the audio. they decide to name the band “sander’s sides” after their highschool, sanders high and the fact they’re all different sides that all come together in the end. the video goes viral overnight.

virgil is panicking. this was just supposed to be some easy project that was over immdiatly and now he’s on the trending page??? this is insane roman i swear to god-

virgil’s not the only one freaking out-logan is terrified. people have never seen him in this way-vunerable and showing a side of himself he doesn’t like that much. if anyone finds out one of the members is him-logan doesn’t know what he’d do. still, the comments are flooded with love for all four members. people are obsessed with this group.

so after some convincing from patton, the group starts writing together more often. they post frequently on youtube, constantly creating more and hanging out together. then they drop their first album, simply called “sander’s sides”, which the fans nickname “self titled”

the album gets insanely popular very quickly. part of the hype is the mystery of who the band mates were-only the friend’s family members and the schools band teacher know. it’s the middle of lunch when lo gets the call from his mother to turn on the radio and he nearly faints. they’re on the radio!!! people everywhere are listening to them!!!

everyone is talking about who the sides could be. fans have started to call themselves the “fanders”

patton lovesssss fan interaction-so he suggests they start responding to fanart/mail! they each are allowed to run one account-patt starts a band snapchat, logan takes twitter, roman creates a band insta and virgil sets up the tumblr account. they all enjoy responding to fan work, especially answering questions that the fans have.

most noteably-w h a t a r e u r n a m e s ?

but logan and virgil insist they dont tell anyone-what if people they know in real life find out that they’re in the secret famous band

that’s when fans decide to use nicknames-

whoever is running the tumblr account constantly makes self deprecating jokes and complains about mental health? anxiety!

the insta runner is very proud of his aesthetic and ability to create stunning pictures of each member without revealing their identity? creativity!

the snapchat runner is the biggest sweetheart ever and constantly send fans inspiring messages and reminders to drink water? morality! (most of the fanders end up just calling him dad tho.)

the twitter runner is the most responsible, is always up to date on politics and sends helpful advice to fanders who need help being adults? logic!!

i’m gonna finish this tmrw but enjoy for now lmao lmao

(check out that kinda similar band idea that idk the name of but can b found when u search “sanders sides lamp headcannons”)

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spectacletheater · 4 years

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And just in time to promote How the Sky Will Melt for tomorrow + Cat Effekt and the Motern series for Saturday + Automobilux etc, here's the latest Spectacle Radio on video (without the video).

Spectacle Radio ep.54 :: 05.13.20 :: What's buggin' you Nino? Motern Media Movie Orchestra - Monsters, Marriage, and Murder in Manchvegas // Ennio Morricone - H2S Main Titles // (Cat Effeckt) // Hal Hartley - Opening credits from Amateur // Bombs Aren't Cool // J.R. Bookwalter - Left For Dead (The Dead Next Door) // Matthew Wade - (How the Sky Will Melt) // Motern Media Movie Orchestra - Incidental Music #4 (Don't Let the Riverbeast Get You) // David Shea - Enter the Dragon (Dial H-I-S-T-O-R-Y) // (Cat Effekt) // Ran Slavin - Distant Lights (Insomniac City) // Bowery Electric - Fear of Flying (Automobilux) // Patrick McGuinn - End Titles from Desert Spirits // (A Day on GOD Island) // Marc Strange - (Isabel) // (Project Nightmare) // Aleksandr Zatsepin - Planet sheleziaka (Mystery of the Third Planet) // Giullermo Portabales - El Carretero (Dial H-I-S-T-O-R-Y) // (How to Shoot a Crime) (Alma Punk) // Dead Kennedys - Holiday in Cambodia (Double Take) // Strangers in the Night (Kin-Dza-Dza) // Lee Dowell - Black Belt (Teenage Gang Debs) // (Onibaba) // Aleksandr Zatsepin - Following govorun (Mystery of the Third Planet) // Pierre Clementi - menacing opera (Clash)

liner notes:-About half of the tracks in the first block were recorded by the the directors themselves!-This includes Matt Farley's delightful scores for the films he makes with Charles Roxburgh. Because I'm a little late to this party, I had to feature cuts from two of the films we've shown already BUT you can catch two more of their films this Saturday, May 16.-H2S is a totally bizarre and messy film, but Morricone delivers some really notable postmodern dissonance AND a great love theme we'll get around to playing eventually.-The words in Russian seem to be about running up and down the street.-Bombs Aren't Cool was a music video film creation of a bunch of Sounth Bronx teens and filmmaker Joan Jubela. From the archives of the XFR Collective, and their Earth Day program-J.R. Bookwalter created his own score for The Dead Next Door on an 80s Amiga. There's also a great Akron-based new wave band that we'll include sometime.-Matthew Wade's scores for his own films are all great, and How the Sky Will Melt is no exception. Catch it this Friday, May 15!-Automobilux is a feature experimental film by Spectacle's own Garret Linn, and 90s shoegaze great Bowery Electric provided the whole soundtrack. Coming soon.-A Day on GOD Island is essentially a vacation home video by Sogo Ishii, but Balinese landscapes set to gamelan is very soothing.-Northern gothic canadian thriller Isabel features songs written and played by the lead actor.-Mystery of the Third Planet showed in our series on Soviet childrens' programming a few years ago.-If you missed Dial H-I-S-T-O-R-Y, it's fortunately streaming free on the director's site.-How to Shoot a Crime was part of our series of Chris Kraus' films in early 2013.-Black Belt was an original 60s pop number, with its own dance(!!), from Teenage Gang Debs, which we showed back in April-Clash was our feature presentation following the radio show, kicking off the new show + film format.

(This week's image is the Magic Wink system from Matthew Wade's How the Sky Will Melt, the ideal format for experiencing the show)

#Spectacle Radio #mixtape #soundtrack #film score

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justanotherloveaffair · 5 years

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The Layover (Part 1/2) - Chadwick x Reader One Shot

LINK TO PART 2

This one shot became so long I had to split it up into two parts. I’ll have the next part up in the next few days.

Summary: During 17 Bridges filming, you miss Chadwick so much that you surprise him in Philadelphia, but it doesn’t all go according to plan.

Warnings: Fluff, language, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it masturbation, otherwise none. all the good smutty stuff is in pt 2 (sorry)

Word Count: 3,577

Author’s Note: I realize that there’s actually no layover in this whole story. Oh well. I’m committed to the title. 🤣

Taglist: @brianabreeze @sarahboseman @kumkaniudaku @grandadchadwick@supersizemeplz, @purple-apricots, @deliciousstreetkidcroissant, @ashanti-notthesinger, @onyour-right, @maverickabull, @lavitabella87, @fullonfrenzy, @builtalongthewayside, @belauriette, @jaeee-http, @airis-paris14, @fortuitoushappenings , @queentearra, @h-challa @90sinspiredgirl @wildaboutchrisevans @theunsweetenedtruth @stevesthot @afraiddreamingandloving @killmongerrss @nah-imjustfeelinit @tchallaholla @a-heretic-child @simplyyamberr @tacohead13 @heyauntieeee @big3gocandykahn + sorry if I missed someone

You had just gotten off the phone with Chadwick and your body was still tingling. Not just from having heard his voice, a sound you had been starving for all day, but because you had a very exciting secret.

You were on your way to the airport, about to surprise him.

Chadwick was away on a long job, and you had been planning to surprise him for weeks without him knowing. Keeping the secret was almost impossible, especially when he seemed genuinely upset in your last conversation at how far away you were.

Strategically, you’d picked a weekend that you knew he had off, a rare circumstance considering he was playing the lead. Then, it was just a matter of booking the plane tickets, asking for time off work, and keeping all of your plotting behind his back a secret during your conversations.

You took the Friday off of work and spent all morning preparing. Plucking, shaving, moisturizing. You went above and beyond with your makeup and hair. But the real star of the show was what you were wearing underneath your casual outfit – a full set of lacy lingerie complete with thigh-highs held up with a garter belt, a black shelf bra, and crotchless panties.

Your plan was to show up, drop your clothes, and blow Chadwick’s socks off.

You were obviously the most excited face in the security line up, nearly giddy and beside yourself to be finally executing your plan. You headed to the gate carrying your little tote bag with your beauty supplies zipped in their 1 ounce containers and barely any clothes. You planned to spend the next few days naked or clothed in lace.

It was an early afternoon flight to Philadelphia and the flight was half full. You grabbed a coffee while you waited, which only ratcheted up your jittery excitement. All you could think of was Chadwick’s face. You played it over and over in your mind, the moment you knocked on his door and saw his expression. And then you lost yourself in thought imagining what came after.

It was thankfully a short flight, just a few hours. Long enough for the drink cart to roll past you so you could down a gin and tonic as you listened to 90s R&B, the kind that provided the perfect backdrop to your horny thoughts of anticipation.

By the time the plane landed, you were all fired up on a lethal cocktail of gin and Janet Jackson. You couldn’t get to Chadwick soon enough. Your body was throbbing, you were nearly at the end of your journey to him, and now everything was an annoying roadblock as you impatiently hurried past people to get outside of the airport.

You rushed to the rideshare line while checking your phone for messages, but you didn’t see any from Chadwick. While you waited, you scrolled through the past few message conversations, smirking at their raunchy contents. He had a filthy mind and you loved it.

You put Chadwick’s address into Google Maps as the Uber took you through the streets, so you could watch your little blue dot getting closer to him. It was getting dark outside as the hours stretched past dinner time.

Finally, you came to his walk-up townhouse, and peered up looking in the window for any lights, but it was dark. Hmm.

The Uber drove away and you stood on the sidewalk looking up. My man is in there somewhere. You smiled and took a deep breath, walking up the steps in your heeled boots and, making sure it was the right number, you knocked.

No answer.

It’s okay, he’s probably in the bathroom. You pulled your scarf a little tighter to protect from the chilly wind and knocked again, your bright smile starting to waver a little.

Still, no answer.

Amazingly, you hadn’t considered that he wouldn’t be there. You pulled out your phone, scrolling through your contacts to call Chadwick when, at that very same moment, Chadwick’s picture appeared on your screen with a big green Accept button. He was calling you.

“Hello? Baby hi!” You answered, still in shock that he’d had some kind of sixth sense you needed to talk to him.

“Hi baby, uh…. I need to ask you something,” you heard him and experience told you Chadwick was flustered. “Where are you right now?”

You glanced up, checking the window again but seeing no movement behind it.

“Um…” You were torn on how to answer, but didn’t want to ruin your surprise just yet. “I’m at home,” you lied as convincingly as you could.

He chuckled. “Baby are you sure?”

Convinced he could see you standing out front and was playing a joke on you, you walked back down the steps to search for another window he might be looking at you from.

“Uh… yeah,” you said distractedly, looking around for him.

“Well…. I’m at your door right now and you’re not answering.”

You almost dropped the phone.

“YOU WHAT?” You shrieked, heart rate picking up and speeding like a bullet. A mind-numbing feeling of panic began to set in.

“I hate to ruin the surprise, but… surprise!” He said proudly while your heart sank through the earth. “Now where are you so I can hug and kiss you already?”

Heartbroken, you sat down on the cold steps and put your head in your hands.

“Y/N?”

You had gone completely silent.

“Why aren’t you answering?”

“Chadwick, I…” you croaked. He was there. He had gone to you. God fucking dammit. “I’m…” your voice dropped to a whisper and you trembled. “I’m in front of your door right now. I …. came to surprise you, honey.”

“NO.” He immediately cried in an explosion of shock, and then his voice went whisper quiet. “Tell me you are fucking joking.”

“I’m not,” you whimpered. You looked up to the sky, gathering with snow clouds, and blinked away tears.

Chadwick went silent as well and you both sat on the line, in front of each other’s homes, sick with missing each other and in utter shock and disbelief at the huge mistake you had both made.

“Baby…” He moaned, and then swore while you hung your head, cradling it in dejected silence. Tears slipping from your eyes.

“I can’t believe this, I just fucking can’t,” you pursed your lips, pinching the bridge of your nose with your fingers.

On the other end, you heard him sigh, and then the patter of rapid footsteps.

“Okay, sit tight. I’m going to fix this.”

“How?” you whimpered.

“Can you sit tight for ten minutes and I’ll call you back? Find somewhere to go wait inside. There’s a corner store just on the end of the block,” he instructed.

Your teeth were starting to chatter from the cold. Around you, fluffy white snowflakes were starting to fall, leaving icy kisses on your cheeks and bare legs.

“Yeah, okay,” You stood up and looked both ways until you spotted a 7-11 sign and started walking towards it.

“I’ll call you right back.”

You hung up and hurried to the corner store, into the warmth and bright artificial light. After smiling politely at the cashier, you wandered slowly around, looking at shelves with feigned interest while holding your phone in your fist.

Ten minutes later, your phone rang.

“Hi!” You answered quickly.

“Hi baby. Okay, here’s what’s happening. I have someone I work with coming to you with a spare key, he should be there in 20 minutes. I’m booked on the next flight back and will be there in about three hours, can you wait?”

“Really?” You squealed, stopping in the store and smiling heavenward, fingers curled under your chin.

You could hear muffled voices in the background before you heard him clearly again. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Just go back to the apartment and wait, Nelson will let you in, okay?”

“Oh my god, yes! Okay, I’ll go wait! I can’t wait to see you,” you cried. The thought that he was on his way restored the life in your body.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can, I fucking love you, I’m crazy about you, I can’t believe this happened,” he rushed out and you gave a half laugh, half sob and started walking out of the store, with the casher looking after his crazy customer with a raised eyebrow.

After hanging up with Chadwick, you headed back out into what had turned into a full snowstorm. The dainty, delicate snowflakes were coming down thick, already covering the street and sidewalks. You carefully picked your way back to Chadwick’s residence in boots that were designed to turn men’s heads and not actually protect you against the elements. At the top of the stairs, there was no awning to protect you, only a thin covering above his door that you huddled against with as much of your scarf around your neck and face to keep you warm and protect your melting makeup.

Finally, in the dark street, you saw two headlights slowing to a stop in front of you, their lights illuminating the swirling snow until they flicked off. From the driver’s side came a trench coated figure of a tall man, who waved to you from the car and you waved back, smiling.

As he got closer you saw he was young and handsome, probably ten years your junior, with a kind, open face and a broad smile.

“Miss,” he made his way up the steps and your hands met in a handshake. “I’m Nelson, I work with Chadwick. He told me to give you these,” he fished in his pocket and dropped a set of keys into your waiting palm.

“I’m so sorry you had to come here, thank you so much,” you smiled gratefully.

He had a cute smile and face and if you were reading it right, he looked a little shy in your presence.

“I hope he gets home soon and there’s no issues landing in this snowstorm,” he remarked in a friendly tone, but the thought struck you with dread. He continued, “Chadwick talks about you all the time. He was so excited to see you this weekend and here you are!” He announced, shaking his head as he laughed and you couldn’t help but laugh with him.

“It’s pretty stupid of us,” you agreed, rolling your eyes, “Sometimes sharing the same brain doesn’t always work in our favour.”

“Well he’ll be glad to see you. I’ll get going now, but maybe try the key to make sure it works?”

“Oh! Yes, good idea.” You took out the key and tested it left and right until you felt it pass the resistance and unlock. You turned the doorknob with ease and gave a whoop of relief. “Aha!”

He clapped his hands together. “Perfect! Alright, I’ll leave you to it.”

“You’re a lifesaver Nelson, thank you,” you waved as he retreated back down the steps, hunkering against the wind and cold on his way back to his car.

You wasted no time eagerly opening the door and closing it behind you, enclosing you in darkness. Your frozen fingers flipped up the nearest light switch and you looked around to take it in.

Parts of the space you were familiar with, like the furniture where Chadwick sometimes sat during your FaceTime calls. The house was simple with minimal clutter. Your man was relentlessly neat and orderly and it made you smile to see how he lived in his home away from home. Everything you looked at gave you a little thrill as you imagined him in the space, making coffee in the kitchen, lounging on the couch. You spotted his drums and guitar, and imagined him winding down each night, his dexterous fingers and beautiful mind working together to create melody and rhythm.

You unwound your damp scarf and found a place to hang it along with your jacket, near some of his. You couldn’t help walking up to one of them and sinking your face into the soft lining inside, seeking out and finding your favourite cologne in the world, Chadwick’s scent.

It was 7:00, and if all went according to plan, you would have him just in time for you to climb into bed together. With time to kill, you spent the next hour snooping all over, savouring every little hint of how Chadwick lived. His clothes, neatly folded. A scattering of his favourite accessories across the top of his dresser, grouped by type – rings, bracelets. You always admired each piece he chose and how he put it together with his outfits. There was a worn script on his desk. You flipped through it, not reading it but absorbing his handwritten notes, the familiarity of it warming you.

You were like a junkie, hunting around for little hits of him to tide you over. After a while, you freshened up your makeup, and decided to take off your dress and sheathe your body behind one of his button up shirts. You looked with approval at the tempting silhouette of your curves hidden behind the long, oversized masculine shirt, which reached just past the top of your lacy garters. You posed in front of the mirror, taking yourself in from the front, the back, the side. Yeah, I look fucking hot.

You wandered downstairs and found a comfortable spot on his couch. Outside the window, the storm continued, causing snow to catch on the corners of the windows. You couldn’t help but imagine how much cozier you would be wrapped up with your man on the couch, listening to the howling wind outside.

The time got closer to 10:00, the hours made bearable by social media and games on your phone. The howling storm never let up; the snow clinging to the window now blanketed the bottom half.

Nelson’s words came back to you. “I hope there’s no issue landing in this snowstorm.”

The idea nagged in your mind, so you searched up the airport website, and the moment you did you saw big red text that made your heart sink: Delays expected due to snowfall. Please check the flight number for updated flight status.

You swore as you discovered every single flight from New York delayed by at least an hour.

The thought of Chadwick stranded in the air made you ache. All you wanted was to be by his side, you missed him so much it hurt. Come to me, baby. I’m waiting. I promise it will be worth it.

Your spot on the couch was catching a chill from the window, and you started to shiver. You finally stood up and stretched your legs, turned off the lights, and trudged your way upstairs to wait on his bed.

The bedside table lamp filled the room with soft light. As the night wore on, the adrenaline of your trip wore off and you were fighting to keep your eyelids from drooping. His bed smelled like him and was topped with soft blankets, inviting you to crawl under.

Well, maybe I’ll just close my eyes... was the last thought you remembered having.

~ ~ ~

A plane-full of frustrated, tired, cranky passengers were grating on Chadwick’s last shred of patience and now more than ever, he wished he could be anonymous.

He hadn’t been able to book a first class seat, and once word got out that the King of Wakanda was on board, there was no end to the attention, pictures, small talk, and autographs. The discovery of his presence seeming to buoy the spirits of everyone on board, but left Chadwick a husk of a human being.

As soon as he was able to, he pulled out his phone, anxious to check in with you since the flight had been delayed, and read your last text before typing his own.

Y/N: the snow is really bad. I hope it doesn’t delay you to me. I’m in your apartment, waiting for you. Hurry 😘 Chadwick: Just landed. Baby I’m so sorry. be there soon.

He pocketed the phone and rushed past every passenger from young to old and avoided eye contact with all of them. It didn’t stop people from pulling out their phones to snap pictures of him or throwing him a hearty Wakanda Forever.

All Chadwick could think about was you. You were in his bones, his blood, the essence of you a part of his heart and soul. Being so sure that he was seconds from crushing your warm body against his only to have it pulled away was soul destroying. Since that moment, Chadwick had been singularly focused on making it to you as soon as he could. Sunday would come fast and he wanted as many chances to kiss you and hold you and fuck you as he could have.

Walking outside, he raised his arms to shield against the blowing, swirling wind. Visions of your warm body in his bed kept Chadwick company as he waited for a car, occasionally blowing warm air on his hands and rubbing them together. The Uber came immediately, and he settled in the backseat for the drive home with only a few polite words exchanged.

He hadn’t gotten a text back from you. Chadwick checked the time and smiled. 11:00. You were definitely asleep. You became narcoleptic after a certain hour and could fall asleep anywhere. Were you draped on his couch? Or tucked into bed? He couldn’t wait to find out. As long as he got to look at you and hold you, he could wait until you were rested to be inside you.

With most other people he had a short temper, but when it came to you, he had all the patience in the world.

The roads were bad, necessitating a slow and careful ride through the empty streets. When the car stopped, Chadwick thanked his driver and re-entered the nasty storm for only a few short steps up to his door.

At first glance, there seemed to be no evidence of you. All of the lights were off, and the apartment was silent as a mouse. He soon discovered a pair of tall black boots and your jacket and scarf, hanging next to his. Chadwick ran his hand gently over the scarf, as gently as if he were actually touching you. This was the closest he’d been to your body in over a month. He could hardly breathe with anticipation for the real thing.

Chadwick toed off his boots and placed his jacket over yours, blanketing the smaller garment in his.

He could sense you upstairs.

He hurried up to the second floor. His bedroom door was open a few inches, but it was enough of a gap for him to finally lay his eyes on you.

Chadwick lifted his knuckles to his mouth and bit it.

You were fast asleep on your back with your head turned to your side, and a feast for Chadwick’s eyes. Each of your long legs were encased in silk stockings, connected with ribbon like straps to a cinched garter belt, naturally drawing his hungry eyes to your waist. A pretty pair of panties hid his favourite spot, but your breasts were bulging forth for Chadwick’s eyes to devour in a revealing bra. He spotted little bows, adding girlish flourishes to a very grown up outfit. The final touch that made Chadwick inexplicably weak in the knees was his own button up shirt, worn like a robe but half-off your arms. He suspected you’d put it on for warmth but shrugged out if it in your sleep, to the benefit of Chadwick’s eyes and hardening dick.

He had to talk himself out of waking you up for the fucking of your life.

The closer he got to you, he could see how deeply you were sleeping and hear your steady, even breathing. Chadwick tried to avoid gawking at your delicious skin and curves as he crept towards the bedside table lamp to flick it off.

He quietly removed all of his clothes while thinking unsexy thoughts to banish his erection, but his eyes kept wandering over to your lingerie clad form and he muttered a swear as he went to the bathroom to take care of it.

With the door firmly closed, he let out a shivery breath at the touch of his fingers on his dick. He stifled his moan and leaned against the wall with one hand as his right hand got to work. It was easy to get there. One look at your body and he could remember everything. Your sounds, your sweet smell, your softness and warmth. You had a way of whimpering his name in your moment of climax that made him weak and he thought about it, how much he wanted to make you come with more than just his voice.

Just thinking about spending an entire day in bed with you was enough to get Chadwick there. He came with a low grunt, all of him tightening with the spasms coming from his dick, and the relief was immediate.

He returned to find you still asleep. Chadwick climbed on the bed, observing you carefully for signs of wakefulness, and removed some of the pillows that were between you. Your heat was so close to him now. Ignoring the covers, Chadwick scooched up beside you and molded himself into your side, suppressing a groan as he did. You were soft and warm and right there, real as his own self. He scooped you into him, shifting your head onto his chest and as he did, you began to wake up.

“Chadwick?” He heard your confused sounds and saw your eyes open.

“Oh my god, Chadwick!” He felt your body surround his as you crushed against him with a hug. Your mouth was on his neck, and then his chin, cheeks and finally his lips, ecstatically kissing him over and over.

“I’m here, I’m here,” he stroked your back and laughed, responding to your excitement. “Shh, go back to sleep baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

Chadwick surrounded you, criss crossing his arms across your back and you hummed contentedly as you melted into him. He rested his chin against your forehead and took a deep breath in and out, making both of your bodies move before he settled.

Both of you felt a contentment too deep in your bones to explain at being reunited. All of the stress and delay of getting to each other was forgotten. He smoothed the top of your head, kissing it again and you drifted back to sleep.

#Chadwick Boseman #Chadwick Boseman x Reader #Chadwick Boseman x Reader fanfic #Chadwick Boseman fic #Chadwick Boseman fanfic #Chadwick Boseman fanfiction #Chadwick Boseman imagine

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masterofmunson · 6 years

Text

bad reputations

Billy Hargrove x Reader

Summary: You used your fists to get what you wanted and he used his charm to get what he wanted, you.

Warnings: DEROGATORY SLUR USED MORE THAN ONCE (r****d), language, angst, fluff, that’s it???? i think???

Word Count: 8.8k+ (longest billy one shot to date woo)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: as you read and as keith’s character develops, you’ll understand why i wrote him and the reader as i did. this is probably my favorite fic that i’ve written. this is also incredibly personal for me because the relationship the reader has with keith is similar to what i have with my own brother because of what keith has and what my brother has. i’ve been working on this for nearly a month and i’m so proud with how it turned out. please leave feedback, comment, reblogs, asks always make me very happy. this fic is my baby. please enjoy!!

You were the only person your brother could count on at school. You were his only friend. You were his support system and protector. Everybody knew not to mess with your brother. Messing with your brother meant that they would face your wrath.

Tommy H. and his friends apparently never got the memo. They were notoriously known for their relentless bullying towards your twin brother Keith. It often went undetected by your brother. He didn’t understand that what they were saying was nice. He didn’t understand what they were doing was mean. Every now and then, he would refer to them as his friends, and it broke your heart to remind him that what they said and did to him meant that they were in fact, not his friends. Keith did not have friends. He had you and that was more than enough. He would always have you.

Protecting him was second nature to you. He was awkward and quirky and he loved comic books and video games. He was slightly obsessed with your best friend Nancy and his appetite consisted of cheeto puffs and chicken nuggets. His social awkwardness gave people the go head to tease and make fun of him, which often led to you getting in trouble since the school never handled it.

You were a good student. You’re in honors classes, a part of National Honor Society, and you run student government, but you had a fowl mouth and a mean sucker punch, especially when it came to people bullying your brother.

You’ve had a handful of lunch detentions with Mr. Wimer in his office. You often had to give Keith the keys to your car while he waited for you to get out of your after school detention with Mrs. Chen until you could drive him to work. He didn’t understand why you always got into so much trouble or why your knuckles were always bruised, but you didn’t mind. He thought you looked badass with the split knuckles anyways, he often referred to you as Bond Girl since you were always kicking ass.

Your friends admired how close and protective you were over your brother. They knew he was odd and quirky and you appreciated their kindness towards him, but they never understood why you would go to such great lengths to make sure his senior year was a lot more fun than your own.

You skipped parties because Keith wanted to watch movies with you. You ditched football games because he wanted to go get ice cream. You even missed junior prom because you didn’t want your brother to be alone and you felt guilty.

You would do anything for your brother and no one quite understood why, even if you were sometimes unhappy.

“Hey, Keith?” you call out to him from the kitchen. You glanced into the living room and he turns his head so he can look at you. “Will you be okay by yourself tonight? Nancy and I were going to go to Tina’s Halloween party. If you want me to stay here, I can.”

He shakes his head and shrugs. “You can go to the party. I don’t care. Have fun.”

“Are you sure?” you ask. He nods and jumps at the sound of a car honking outside the house. You wince and your mom yells at you from upstairs. You had told Steve countless times to stop honking when he arrived. It pissed off both your parents and scared Keith. You groan before grabbing your purse and your jacket. You shout a goodbye before running out the front door into the backseat of Steve’s car. Nancy turns to face you.

“You look hot,” she compliments you with a wink.

You roll your eyes at your best friend. You dressed up as Alex Owens from Flashdance. You had all that you needed stuffed in your closet and you weren’t going to go out and buy stuff to make something, so you settled on a piss poor dance costume.

“Thanks,” you respond as he pulled up to Tina’s house. You climb out and walk through the sea of students to get inside. The music roars throughout the entire house and you make a beeline towards the kitchen counter and steal an empty plastic cup next to the spiked punch bowl. Filling it up with water, you find your way back to Steve and Nancy. Your other friends Brenda and Lily join you and they both reeked of alcohol. You winced, you would most likely be the one dragging them two blocks to Brenda’s house where they could crash safely.

Tina makes her way around to you and hugs your side softly. “Hey!” she grins at you. “Thanks for coming! I was hoping you would make an appearance.”

You shrug, shoving your long time friend softly. Despite the drifting the two of you had experienced over the years, you were still somewhat close, and she was nice to Keith. Anyone that was nice to Keith was your friend. “I guess it depends on how lame your party gets, T,” you tease with a wink. “I might just disappear. You won’t even remember that I was even here.”

She sticks her tongue out at you before disappearing into the crowd. You turn your attention back towards your friends and nearly tumble over one of Tommy’s friends. You wince in embarrassment as water spilt across his black leather jacket. You step back, watching the water drip down the stranger’s chest.

You swallow hard, “Shit, sorry,” you apologize. “It’s just water.”

You notice right away that you had no idea who the guy standing in front of you was. Hawkins was a small town. Everyone knew each other, and you certainly didn’t know who the guy was standing in front of you. He smirks at you, puffing out smoke.

“We got ourselves a new Keg King, Harrington,” Tommy spat, getting in his face.

You roll your eyes and sigh loudly. You raise your brows at Tommy. “Now you’re having a dick measuring contest with how much somebody can drink?” you shout. “How insecure are you with your masculinity, Tom? Do you really think Steve cares that Shirtless Biker Boy has the keg record now? Big whoop.”

Your friends giggle and Tommy glares at you. “You’re a raging bitch, Y/n.”

You shrug, brushing it off. “So I’m told,” you sigh. “Now run along and tell everyone else that Shirtless Biker Boy beat Steve’s keg record. I know you’re dying to.”

He curses at you again before turning his back toward you. He disappears and the boy, whom you’ve mentioned twice now and still don’t know his name smirks at you. You cross your arms over your chest and glance over at Lily and Brenda.

They’re both blatantly staring at him and their eyes fit over to you. They raise their eyebrows at you while attempting to wink at you.

You roll your eyes. You were not interested. Anyone who was friends with Tommy or even associated with him was not a friend of yours. Tommy and his friends made your brother’s life miserable and you wanted to disassociate yourself from any possible additions, even the new hot Shirtless Biker Boy. He was guilty by association and that was enough for you.

You brush past him into the crowd before giving him the opportunity to talk to you. All you wanted was go home, eat cheetos, and watch movies with Keith. You were not interested in staying any longer. Brenda and Lily could find someone else to take care of them. You wouldn’t be responsible.

You should’ve known that there were going to be repercussions for your words the Monday following Tina’s Halloween Bash. There was always a consequence when it came to bad mouthing Tommy Hardy. It came in the form of bullying your brother.

You honestly thought it made no impact on Tommy’s fragile ego when you insulted him. Everyone knew of your hatred for one another, except the new kid that you spilled water on. According to Lily, you embarrassed the shit out of him. He wanted to seem cool and instead you made him feel like a total loser.

Tommy wanted to hurt you where it burned and he knew exactly what to do.

Everyone knew that your weak spot was your dorky twin brother Keith. He was awkward and antisocial. He practically only spoke to you and when he wasn’t talking to you, he was talking to kids at the arcade because he had to. Your brother was perfect retaliation and Tommy knew he had to act fast.

It was just before the first lunch period, which you shared with Keith, Lily, Steve, and regretfully Tommy and his crew. You always walked with him to lunch, and it took you about three minutes to get to his locker where he waited for you like clock work.

Tommy, Carol, Robbie Daniels, Trinity Luer, and the guy from the party came barreling in like a bunch of starved lions on the other side of the hallway as Keith fished through his locker for his lunch. They were going straight for the kill. They would show no mercy, and they wanted you to watch.

Tommy startles Keith by forcing his locker shut. He jumps, his shoulder hitting the locker beside his. Despite his tall stature, Keith all but shrinks in front of his bullies. Tommy smirks.

“Hey, Keith,” Tommy greets him, reaching out to pluck Keith’s lunch bag out of his hands. “We missed you at the party on Friday. Why weren’t you there?”

“I didn’t want to go,” Keith mumbles, staring at the ground. His foot taps at the ground anxiously. He hates when people invade his space.

Tommy slaps his hand against the locker and Keith jumps. Tommy’s friends snicker behind him, fueling his ego. “What was that, retard? I can’t hear you.” Tommy spits at him, getting in his face.

“I didn’t want to go,” Keith repeated a little more loudly. His shoulders start to tremble. He really needs you.

“Yeah, why’s that?” Tommy asks as if he cares to knows Keith’s reply.

“I have social anxiety. Parties are overwhelming. I do not have friends,” Keith mumbles again.

“What?!” Tommy roars, causing a few heads to turn and a crowd to gather. It’s exactly what he wants. He wants to make a scene. He wants Y/n to crash and burn.

“I do not like parties!” Keith shouts back, finding an ounce of courage to yell back. It makes him want to retreat back into his shell, but now Tommy’s stunned and the students watching on are fueling his ego.

Tommy and his friends smirk and snicker. He plucks the brown bag out of Keith’s hands. Keith makes a pathetic attempt to reach for it. Tommy slaps his hand away and starts to pull the bag open.

“I didn’t know Creepy Keith had a mouth on him,” Tommy comments, pulling out the bag of cheetos. “Did you carry after your sister?”

Keith opens his mouth to respond, but he’s cut off by loud yelling down the hall. He recognizes the voice almost immediately, it’s you. You were on your way to save your brother. He couldn’t be more thankful.

You’re screaming at students to get out of the way as you shove through them. Your skin is on fire and your throat is raw. All you want to do is punch Tommy in his smug face.

You drop your backpack on the ground and rest a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Are you okay?” you murmur quietly so only he can hear. He nods and you turn on your heels to face Tommy. You practically snarl at him.

“What is your deal, Tom?” you hiss. “Why do you insist on making my brother’s life a living hell? Keith has done nothing to you.”

“It’s easy,” he smirks, shrugging, “and it gets to you. Your brother is a total retard.”

Your nostrils flare and you swing your fist, punching Tommy right in the face. His nose cracks under the pressure and he roars in pain. The crowd roars and you make a move to knee him in the groin but Carol shoves you against the lockers.

You push her back and she lunges at you.

Fellow classmates are screaming, encouraging the fight. All you want to do is go to lunch.

Mr. Zilinski and Mrs. Rogers shove through students and Mr. Zilinski tears Carol off of you. “Keep on walking!” he roars as students scurry down the hallway. He glares at you, Carol, and Tommy. “Principal Jones’s office, now.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes and stomping down the hall to the main office. You knock on Mr. Jones’s office door and push it open. You plop down in the seat across from his and huff out a breath.

Mr. Jones looks at you through his glasses and he leans back into his chair. “Miss. Y/n, fancy seeing you here,” he sighs.

“Mr. Jones,” you dead pan, flexing your fingers and twisting your wrist.

“Why did you punch Tom Hardy in the nose?”

Your jaw ticks and you glare at the principal. “He was bullying my brother,” you sneer through gritted teeth. “He called Keith a retard just because he’s different. He did it to get to me. He did it because he’s an asshole.”

“Watch your language, Y/n,” Mr. Jones states firmly. “This is your third incident with Tommy, Carol, and his friends this semester. I’m starting to wonder if you’re learning anything from your detentions, Y/n.”

“That’s total bull!” you shout, slapping your hands on the office desk. You snarl at him. “The only reason I continue to get detentions is because you and your staff are incapable of disciplining bullies so I take it upon myself to do it! Kids like Tommy and Carol continue to bully kids like Keith because they know they can get away with it because they’re not being held accountable! The ones that are are the ones that don’t deserve it!”

“So you’re saying that you don’t deserve to be held accountable for punching Tommy in the nose because he called Keith a retard?” Mr. Jones questions with a raised eyebrow.

You sigh loudly, screaming through your teeth. “Yes!” you roar. “I want you to do your job so my brother doesn’t dread coming to school every fucking day!”

You stand up, swinging your backpack over your shoulders. You rip the door to his office open and stomp through the waiting area.

“You’re suspended for two days, Miss Y/n!” he shouts from inside his office. You throw your middle finger up and snarl at a very smug looking Tommy, even though you probably broke his nose.

You stomp out of the school towards the student parking lot. Your hands are shaking and anger fills to the brim. You struggle to insert your car key into the lock. You really needed a smoke.

Throwing your bag in the back of your car, you grab the box of Camels you kept in your glove box along with your lighter. Your fingers shake as you grasp a cigarette and you couldn’t get your lighter to work.

“Fuck!” you scream in frustration. You throw the box and the lighter on the ground and you kick the front tire of your car. Angry tears threaten to spill over your cheeks.

You felt so helpless when it came to protecting your brother at school. Harold Jones and his staff are incompetent morons that don’t care that the weird kids were getting bullied. Your parents constantly ripped into you whenever you got a detention, and now they would definitely kill you. You never thought you would get suspended for sticking up for your brother.

“Need a light?” a voice asks from behind you. You jump and spin around, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall.

“No,” you cough out, hiding the tremble in your voice. You avoid eye contact and open the door to your car. All you wanted to do was go to the quarry and scream at the top of your lungs.

The boy places a hand on the door, forcing it shut. You look up and glare at him. It’s the boy from the party. He’s dressed in a white t-shirt with a jean jacket and dark washed jeans. His hair is an unruly mess of curls resting on his shoulders.

“Screw off, would you, Biker Boy?!” you spit at him. You wanted to be left alone. You weren’t in the mood to be hit on by one of Tommy’s friends as a sick joke. “Go hold Tommy’s hand or something. I’m sure he needs it.”

The boy laughs and you roll your eyes. “That was one killer right hook. I’m Billy. I just moved here from California.”

You cross your arms over your chest and huff out a breath. “Cool, don’t care, now leave me alone before I punch you in the nose too.”

Billy’s smirk falls. “You don’t want me to light one for you?” he asks, holding up the lighter in his hand.

“I suddenly lost the urge to smoke. It’s a bad habit.”

“Hey,” he grabs your wrist and you glare at him, pulling your wrist out of his grasp. “I’m just trying to help.”

“Fuck off,” you snarl, opening the door to your car. “Any friend of Tommy’s is no friend of mine.”

You shut the door in his face and pull out of the school parking lot, speeding down the street.

You park the car in the driveway and storm into your house. Your mom is leaning against the counter and she looks at you through her bug eyed glasses. “You’re home early,” your mom notes.

“Harold Jones is enabling bullying!” you roar, pacing in the kitchen. “Tommy effing Hardy called Keith the R word and he took his lunch and he slapped him, so I punched him in the face and he suspended me!”

“Woah, hold on just a second,” your mom sets the newspaper down on the counter. “You got suspended for defending your brother from a bully because they got physical with him?”

“Yes!”

“I’m going to call the school right now and give Harry a piece of my mind.”

Your shoulders relax and you breathe out a sigh of relief. You wouldn’t get in trouble with your mom, so hopefully it went the same way with your dad.

You glance at the clock above the stove. It was just about noon and your shift at Flo’s Diner didn’t start until 3:30. You could probably go in and start your shift early.

“Hey, Mom, I’m going to go to the diner and see if I can start my shift early!” you shout, running up the stairs to change into your uniform t-shirt, plain black gym shoes, and leaving on your dark washed jeans. You don’t bother shouting a goodbye when you realize she’s yelling at the phone, presumably at Harold Jones.

Driving to the small strip that was considered downtown Hawkins, you park around back of Flo’s Diner. Entering through the back door, you say hello to the head cook, Kenny, before peeking your head out to find Flo at the counter serving up some coffee.

Flo Vinnie was a 70 something year old woman that you admired. She was sarcastic and strong. She was everything you wanted to be when you were her age. She had been running the diner for 40 some odd years alongside her husband Louie until he died in 1974. Now it was just her, and sometimes her daughter Paulina, running the place.

“Hey, Flo,” you greet her. “You mind if I start early?”

She turns to face you, raising an eyebrow at you. “Shouldn’t you be in school, Sweetheart?” she questions. You laugh nervously, scratching the back of your head.

“Yeah…,” you trail off. “I got in trouble for punching Tommy Hardy in the nose ‘cos he was bullying Keith.”

She clicks her tongue, shaking her head. “Good. He leaves shitty tips anyways. You can start early.”

You thank her before moving around back and punching your card in. Shrugging off your light jacket, you wash your hands thoroughly before walking to the front counter.

Wiping off dirty tables and taking a handful of orders, you almost didn’t hear the door ding, signally new customers. Holding a tray of food, you walk around the counter towards the table you were serving.

“Welcome to Flo’s,” you greet. “Sit anywhere you like!”

Serving the table you move quickly to place the tray on the counter before moving towards a table you hadn’t checked in with in awhile. Taking their drinks, you refill them before returning them to the table and moving onto the next table.

Pulling out your order pad, you glance at the patrons. You grit your teeth. Of course Tommy and his crew came to the diner. They weren’t done with you yet. You only smirk at the sight of Tommy’s nose. It’s an ugly, swollen red with dried blood covering it.

You notice the boy from the parking lot, Billy, is the only one staring at the menu. He’s far more interested in finding what he wants to eat instead of trying to get under your skin.

“What can I get you?” you ask through gritted teeth.

Carol eyes you up and down, as if she’s comparable competition. You roll your eyes. “Three chocolate milkshakes and…,” she trails off, glancing at Billy, “what do you want, Hargrove?”

“Water’s fine,” he says, glancing up from the menu to look at you. He sits up a little straighter.

“Do you know what you want to eat?” you grumble, writing their drinks down.

“A triple cheese burger, a bacon burger, a caesar wrap and… Billy?” Carol asks, nudging him.

“I’ll get the double patty with extra cheese,” he answers, glancing at you briefly. You nod before turning on your heels. You hand Kenny the slip before turning back to the counter and making their milkshakes.

Filling a glass up with water and ice, you place the drinks on a tray with a handful of straws and spoons. Walking around the counter, you walk back to their table, setting their drinks down. Carol takes the glass and looks at her milkshake. “I didn’t ask for whipped cream,” she sneers.

“You didn’t say that you didn’t want it,” you bite back.

“Should you be talking to a customer like that, Y/n? Isn’t the customer always right?”

“Rarely, if ever,” you deadpan. You sigh. You weren’t in the mood to argue with her. “Do you want me to make you another milkshake, Carol?”

“No. I’ll find another way to get rid of it,” she grins, reaching for the glass so she can hand it over to you. Your fingers barely grasp the glass before the milkshake is splashed all across your face and your shirt. You gasp, dropping the tray that was in your hands. Carol, Tommy, and Robbie’s laughter rings through your ears as it soaks through your shirt. “Oops, guess my hand slipped.”

You blink away your tears. You wouldn’t allow Carol the satisfaction of seeing you cry, but it doesn’t hurt any less.

You wipe your face with the back of your hands, trying to keep ice cream out of your eyes. “Why do you insist on making my life a living hell, Caroline?” you spat, glaring at her. “We use to be friends! It’s like you’ve had it out for me ever since we were in middle school! What happened?!”

“You’re a loser, Y/n,” she retorts. “Why would I want to associate with someone that has a perv for a brother?”

“There’s so much more to it than the fact that you don’t like my brother, and you know it!” you shout, feeling your anger starting to overflow. You had had enough of her. You were tired of being miserable all the damn time.

“What the hell is going on here?!” Flo interrupts, glancing at your distraught appearance and the milk and chocolate ice cream that started to stick to your skin. “Get out of my damn diner! I don’t want to see you four here ever again, especially after what you two,” she points to Carol and Tommy, “did to Keith and Y/n! Get out before I call the cops!”

The four teenagers scurry out of the booth they were settled in before scampering out the door. Tears threaten to fall past your lids and all you wanted was to curl up into a ball and cry. You hurry around back, feeling the tears starting to fall. You struggle to keep them in, breathing hard.

“Hey, Sweetheart,” Flo coos at you gently, grabbing your milkshake covered hand and squeezing it gently. “It’s alright. They’re gone. You can let go.”

Your sobs ring through your ears and back again. Your shoulders shake and your fingers tremble. Flo pulls you into her arms, the ice cream staining her apron. “I don’t understand it,” you cry. “I don’t understand why they’re so mean to me… to Keith. I don’t get it.”

“They only do it because they’re insecure about themselves and the way they feel so they take it out on you and Keith,” Flo murmurs, kissing your cheek. You nod your head mutely. “Go to the bathroom and clean up. I’ll close out the rest of your tables and save your tips for you tomorrow. You’re going home.” You nod again before disappearing into the bathroom and wiping your face with paper towels.

You walk out the back door to your car, sniffing quietly and getting into your car. You were suddenly glad you didn’t have to face Tommy and Carol until Thursday morning.

For the next three weeks leading up to Thanksgiving break, you actively avoided confrontation between Tommy, Carol, and whoever else they were friends with. Your dad had given you a stern talking to after you had washed all the milk and ice cream off of you.

Instead of your standard two weeks of grounding, he lessened up after taking in your appearance the moment you walked into the house. You didn’t want to talk about it and you wanted to be left alone. You were only grounded for a week.

You were tired of defending yourself every waking moment that you were in school and it was starting to take an emotional toll on you. Your friends noticed but you brushed it off whenever they asked. You didn’t want to lay down your problems on them and feel like a burden.

Tommy and Carol proudly called you Milkshake every chance they got, and when you didn’t respond, they took it as a win.

The only good thing that came out of the milkshake incident was that they left Keith alone. Now you and Steve Harrington took the brunt of their bullying. Ever since Billy Hargrove beat the living tar out of Steve, you had gotten closer, despite the fact that him and Nancy had broken up.

The doors to Flo’s diner screech open and you glance up from your spot behind the counter. Max Mayfield and her cruel step brother Billy Hargrove enter, sliding into a booth in your section.

You saw Max quite frequently. You babysat Erica Sinclair whenever you weren’t at the diner and Lucas was often at the Wheelers or you were responsible for several rowdy 13 year olds while watching a very sassy 10 year old named Erica Sinclair. Max Mayfield had since then been a staple in their group.

You walk over to them, smiling brightly at Max. “Hey, Max. How’re you?” you ask her, pulling out your ordering pad.

“Good! It feels like I haven’t seen you in forever. What’re your plans for Thanksgiving?” Max asks.

“A whole lot of nothing. I have a big swim competition at IUPUI for a few days. You?”

“You swim?” Billy asks, entering the conversation.

You practically glare at him and Max smirks into her lap. “Yup,” you reply.

“That’s cool,” Max interjects. “Can people come and watch?”

“Yeah! I’ll just give the information to Lucas and he can just give it to the party.” Max nods her head. “What can I get you?”

They give you their orders and you disappear into the kitchen. Max smirks smugly at Billy. “You really think you can woo her after what you did to Lucas and Steve? She can’t stand you or your so called friends. I don’t know if you know this, Billy, but she hates bullies. If you want her to like you, you should probably apologize to Steve and Lucas. Maybe be nice to Keith, he doesn’t have any friends.”

Billy all but glares at his smug step sister.

“Keith, right?” Billy asks, approaching him at his locker. He looks at Billy with wide eyes and nods quietly. He glances around the hallway, waiting for Carol and Tommy to join him. “You work at the Arcade, right?”

“Yeah,” Keith mumbles.

Billy blanks. He doesn’t know what else to say. Keith is awkward and quirky. He’s not social and he doesn’t talk. “Um… are they hiring?”

He winces, what the fuck?

Working at the Arcade was social suicide. Even if he did want to get on your good side and maybe into your pants, he didn’t like you that much… but he did need the money and Max had a point. Working with Keith could get him close to you, plus he rather work with the school weirdo than apologize to Steve.

“No,” he answers.

Billy’s shoulders sag in defeat. Now he needs a new plan. “How about Flo’s Diner?” he asks. Maybe he could work with you.

“You’ll have to ask my sister.”

His jaw ticks. Now he’s frustrated. The last thing he wants is to ask you.

“Hey, Keith,” you approach him with a warm smile, completely ignoring Billy. “You ready to go?” Keith nods. “I just have to take the car to the shop real quick. The oil needs changed.”

Billy perks up. Cars were his thing, He could change your oil for you. You could pay him with a date. “I can do it for you,” Billy states, causing you to turn towards him with a raised brow. “I’m good with cars. I can change your oil for you.”

“No,” you shoot him down, “that’s okay. I can change my own oil.”

His eyes narrow at you. “You can change your own oil?” Now Billy thinks you’re fucking with him just for the fun of it, and it’s starting to piss him off.

“Yup,” you answer shortly, starting to walk away with Keith in tow. Billy reaches out and gently grabs your wrist. You glare at him. “What?”

“Are you fucking with me?” he accuses, glaring back at you.

“Are you asking that because you know I don’t like you or because you think I don’t know how to change my oil?” you shot back.

“Both.”

You shrug, “Guess you’ll have to find out yourself.”

You turn your back to him and start walking towards the student entrance. Billy trails behind, lost, confused, and annoyed. You successfully baited him to follow you to wherever the hell you were going.

Walking through the student parking lot, he watches you get into your 1964 Ford Mustang. Your car roars to life before you pull out of your spot and drive to the exit. Billy follows behind you as you drive to the downtown strip. You pull into an auto body shop and drive through the garage. You climb out and Billy parks his car in the lot, walking in behind you.

“Hey, Matt!” you shout, your voice echoes against the walls of the shop. A guy with curly brown hair turns around, grinning at you. He’s covered in oil and grime. You know he’s tempted to hug you and get your clothes dirty. “Do you have an extra suit?”

Billy watches on, sizing up potential competition. Matt was slightly taller than he was and had muscles that rivaled his. He’s tempted to snarl at him.

“Why would I have an extra suit?” Matt asks, raising a brow at you. “What’re you up to?”

You shrug. “I need to get my oil changed. Is my dad here?”

“Yeah, he’s in the office.”

You disappear into the door tucked in the corner that’s attached to the main entrance. Billy stands awkwardly next to Keith and Matt raises an eyebrow at him. “Who’re you?” his voice is gruff and full of hostility. He’s never seen him at the garage.

Billy’s eyes narrow and he puffs his chest out to make himself seem bigger. “I’m Billy. I’m an acquaintance of Keith and Y/n.”

Matt nods his head slowly and the door opens again. You step out in a tank top and faded stained jeans. Your hair is pulled out of your face and Matt presses the platform of the machine, raising the platform your car sat on. You brush past Billy and slide underneath your car, Matt pushes the supplies next to you.

Billy watches you work quickly and quietly for the next 20 minutes before you slide out from underneath your car, covered in oil and grime. Standing up, you quirk a brow at him. “You wanna check if I changed my oil correctly, Hargrove?” you ask.

He raises his hands in surrender and your dad steps out of the office. Billy smirks. “Hi, Mr. Y/l/n, I’m Billy Hargrove, an acquaintance of Keith and Y/n’s. I’ve been looking for a job and I happen to be really good with cars. Are you hiring?”

He watches your face and grins. You’re completely mortified at the idea of having Billy work for your dad. You could only handle him in small doses. Having him work for you dad would be a nightmare. You would have to tolerate him.

“Yes, actually,” your dad answers. “I always need the extra help. Besides, Y/n’s stingy since she’s always so busy,” he teases you. You pout. “It’d be nice to have someone other than Matt and Tyler working at the shop. Come in again tomorrow so we can fill out paperwork.”

Billy nods, shaking his hand before turning around to walk out of the garage. You glare at him as he winks at you. God, would working with him suck.

“You’re insufferable!” you snarl at Billy. Ever since your dad gave him a job at the auto body shop, Billy’s turned it into a chance to pick up girls. He flexed and smirked his way into girls pants. After an entire month of working alongside the stupid mullet head, you came to the conclusion that Billy was still an intolerable asshole—even though he was nice to you. The only good thing about him was that he was nice to Keith and treated him like an actual human being.

“You don’t take this job seriously! All you do is flirt with customers and cost my dad money!” you shout at him, squeezing the wrench in your hand. You had half a mind to throw it at him. “This isn’t a place where you can smirk at the right time, laugh at terrible jokes that aren’t funny, or flex your goddamn arms to get yourself laid! This is a business! I’m sure there are plenty of girls ready and willing to have sex with you at school.”

Deep down, you know that his ability to do his job effectively wasn’t the issue. It was your raging jealousy towards the women and girls he flirted with. You hated that he was already having an effect on you. Behind closed doors and away from prying eyes, he wasn’t such an asshole. He put up a front and you hated it.

Your face warmed. God, were you angry. Billy was annoying. He was a moron and he was an asshole. You had hoped that him getting a job would turn him around so he was at least bearable in public. Now he just gave you more reasons to dislike him.

He wasn’t going to just turn around his act for just anyone. Especially you. It didn’t matter that he snuck into your room late at night almost every night battered and bruised from his father. It didn’t matter that you cleaned him up and kissed his pain away. It didn’t matter that he shielded you and Keith away from Tommy and Carol’s insults onto someone else. None of it mattered. Billy only cared about his reputation and nothing else.

“Oh, c’mon, Sweetheart. Don’t be like that,” he cooed, smirking at you with a wink. He knew the reason behind your sudden outburst and he was just egging you on. He loved pushing your buttons. “I make your pop plenty of money. I’m the best mechanic he’s got. There’s no harm in flirting with the customer if it means I’m making more money.”

It was true. The only reason he did flirt with customers was so that they would give him a bigger tip. He needed the money and it boosted his already flaming ego. You hated it.

Your stomach flipped at the nickname and you hated yourself for it. Billy was notorious for nicknames and getting into girls pants because of it. You didn’t want to fall victim to his charms—even though you already had. You want a reason to be mad at him. He still hadn’t apologized to Steve or the kids. That was good enough for you.

“Oh, please,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “You flatter yourself too much. I’m the best mechanic my dad has. I’ve been working on cars since I was nine years old. Dad taught me everything I know.”

“Oh, Princess,” he tuts, shaking his head at you. “Think what you will, but your father adores me. Why do you think I work all the time? I’m his favorite.”

You open your mouth to snarl back a response, but you’re cut off by the entrance of your brother from the office. You glance at him and you watch his eyes move to the large clock nailed to the wall. Your eyes widen.

“Fuck!” you shout, scrambling away from your workstation towards the office door, completely disregarding your argument. You discard your overalls and kick off your work boots. You throw on your diner uniform t-shirt, a pair of jeans, and your black work shoes. You spray yourself with perfume and swipe on deodorant; you completely forgot that you had a shift at Flo’s.

Running out of the office with your purse across your body, your desperate eyes meet Billy’s and you do the unthinkable; you toss Billy the keys to the shop. They jingle in his fingers.

“Billy, please, please, please, close up shop. I have a shift at Flo’s ‘til ten. If you can just drop Keith off at home or something, I would really appreciate it. Maybe chill at the house? There’s pizza and beer in the fridge,” you pant, desperation seeping through. You no longer cared about your silent argument with the boy you were seeing in secret. Your other job depended on it.

“What’s in it for me?” he sighs, twirling the keys with his fingers. Hope bubbles through. Maybe this was his opportunity to get you alone. He could take you on a proper date instead of sneaking into your bedroom or pulling you into an abandoned bathroom to make out.

“I will do anything if you do this for me. As long as it’s within reason and legal.”

He smirks. “Deal.”

You almost want to kiss him.

You stand mortified in you kitchen as you watch Billy encourage your brother to drink a half a bottle of rum. He had a beer in his hand and a cigarette in the other. Standing before you was Keg King Billy, not the Billy from your dad’s auto body shop, and certainly not the Billy that kissed you like his life depended on it. You were fuming.

Slapping your purse and keys on the kitchen table, the two boys stare at you like two deer in headlights. Your jaw ticks. “What the fuck is going on here?!” you roar, ripping the bottle of rum out of your brother’s hand. He sways on his feet, grabbing at the countertop. Billy smiles at you nervously.

“Hey, Princess,” he chuckles, scratching the back of his neck.

You glare at him. “Outside, right now,” you hissed, pointing to door. He sighs and Keith frowns.

“Y/n, it’s my fault. I wanted to have some,” Keith slurred, attempting to take the fall for Billy.

You glare at him. “I’m dealing with you later. Billy, outside.”

Billy sighs, abandoning his beer and grabbing his jacket before heading out to the front porch with you trailing behind. You slam the door shut behind you and he winces, turning around to face you.

“What the hell, Billy! What were you thinking?!” you yell at him, feeling your blood boil.

“I had everything under control! He asked to try some alcohol and he directed me to where you keep it! He just happens to be a lightweight!” he answers, justifying his actions.

“Why would you indulge him?!”

“Because you don’t! You treat him like he’s eight instead of eighteen! He’s not a baby! He should experience alcohol like every other teenager!” he shouts.

You shake your head. If he only knew. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, especially since it was coming from Billy. You were the only one, along with your circle of friends, who stood up for him and protected him. Billy Hargrove defending someone other then himself was unheard of.

“He’s on the spectrum, Billy!” you roar, feeling the weight on your chest disappear. Someone other than your family knew that your brother was autistic. It made you breathe a little easier.

“What?” Billy asks, confused.

“Keith is autistic. He has autism. It’s a developmental disorder. He doesn’t understand social cues. That’s why he’s so awkward. That’s why everyone thinks he’s weird, but they just think he’s weird for no reason. He can’t help it. He doesn’t understand sarcasm,” you answer angrily. “He doesn’t understand when he’s getting bullied.”

“Oh.”

“Since when do you care that my brother gets the full teenage experience, anyways, Hargrove?” you spat at him. “You wouldn’t be caught dead with him unless you wanted something out of him or from him.”

Realization washed over you like a tsunami and it’s clear as day on your face and in your eyes. Billy would have to be blind if he couldn’t see it.

You’re fighting back tears as your brain moves everything into place. He’s gestures to offer you a smoke whenever you got into it with Tommy, Carol, and their crew. Billy’s insistence on getting the job at the stop. His usual hostile nature towards his step sister, her friends, and Steve lessened around you. He was compassionate and patient with your brother. He was kind.

And he did it all to get to you.

And like a fool, you fell for it.

He played you like a fiddle.

He didn’t care about Keith. He cared about getting into your pants. Thank the heavens you hadn’t gotten that far yet.

You feel like puking. You feel so stupid. You feel so embarrassed. You feel so hurt, but not for you. No, you were a strong girl. You’ve handled boys with grace and have no once cried over a relationship gone wrong. Your heart was ripped in two for your precious brother. He fooled you both into thinking that Keith would have a friend other than his overprotective sister.

Your bottom lip trembles and tears gather at the corners of your eyes. You step back from Billy, feeling physically wounded of his presence. You’re not looking at the Billy that kisses away your frustration or plays video games with Keith on his break. You’re looking at the Billy you met at Tina’s party. You’re looking at a user.

“You used my brother,” you choke out, “to get to me. And like a fool, I fell for it.”

Horror washes over his face and he makes the mistake at moving towards you. You stumble back, falling onto the porch steps. He steps back, frowning at you.

“I thought you cared about him!” you yelled, breaking your resolve. “None of my friends really make an effort to get to know him, they’re only nice to him because they’re my friends and I love my brother! But you were different!” You wipe your runny nose with the back of your hand. “You played video games with him. You let him borrow your cassette tapes. You listened to him tell stories that he’s told before only because he can’t remember telling them to you! You’ve done so much more for my brother than anyone else has and it was all fake! You did it to get to me!”

“Princess,” his voice cracked.

“Don’t call me that!” you cried, turning your head away from him.

“Y/n,” he murmured. “I know it looks bad, but I do value my friendship with Keith. At first it was just to get to you because I knew how much you valued how people treated him and I just wanted to get with you, but it turned into so much more. I know how much it means to you, and I care about you.”

You hate how genuine he sounds and you swallow hard, forcing yourself to look at him. “If you cared about me, about my brother, you wouldn’t treat us like your dirty little secret,” you spat, glaring at him. “You wouldn’t be ashamed to hide me, but you insist on keeping whatever this,” you motion your hand between the two of you, “is, a secret. You care too much about your reputation. Your reputation would be destroyed if anyone found out you were friends with Keith Y/l/n and you were fooling around with his crazy sister.”

“What are you saying?” he asks, sending you daggers.

“I’m ending whatever this is,” you answer with stone eyes. “We’re done. Bye, Billy.”

You turn your back on him, stomping up the porch steps, you slam the door in his face. You only let two tears fall for him.

Avoiding Billy during the school day seemed almost impossible. He knew your schedule like the back of his hand and wherever you were, he wasn’t too far behind—with Trinity Luer on his arm. You knew he was only parading her around to get to you and you didn’t care. You were fooling around for a month, and all things considered, it wasn’t serious. It only bothered you that you and your brother were his dirty little secrets. That’s what hurt the most.

Billy pulled out all the stops in order to make you jealous. He made out with Trinity in between passing periods right outside the class you were heading into. His hands always found their way into the back pockets of her jeans and he always made sure to look at you whenever he was whispering in her ear. All you did was smile.

Two can play at this game, and Steve Harrington was the perfect retaliation.

You and Steve had a playful friendship to begin with anyway, even with he was dating Nancy. You teased each other constantly and Billy even confessed to you one night after you cleaned him up that he was jealous of Steve whenever he saw you two together in the hallway. You promised that you would simmer down on your playfulness with Steve to tame Billy’s raging jealousy issues. How stupid of you.

To you and everyone one besides Billy, the way you acted around Steve was normal. You pushed and shoved at each other’s buttons. You hung around each other’s lockers and shared lunches. It was normal.

It only fueled the jealousy inside Billy. It made him miss you even more. He had half a mind to throw the white towel and kiss you like he meant it in front of everyone, Trinity, Carol, and Tommy included.

When he saw you looking gorgeous as ever at Tina’s New Year’s Eve party, his heart hammered against his chest. You were dressed in a pair of loose fitted boyfriend jeans, white t-shirt, and an army jacket. It was simple, but you were beautiful.

You were nursing a plastic cup—probably filled with water since you didn’t drink, and you were talking loudly and happily with Tina, Lily, and Steve. You laugh loudly at something Steve said and it makes Billy’s stomach flip. Your arm wraps around his shoulder and your cheek squished against his.

Billy’s eyes glance at the TV, watching the clock count down into the new year. He had 60 seconds to apologize to you and he hoped you would forgive him. He was tired of pretending to be okay when he missed you.

Weaving through drunken teenagers to get to you, he taps you on the shoulder and you turn around. Your bright smile fades, but you don’t shut him out completely. You offer a timid one instead. You weren’t in the mood to cause a scene.

“Hey, Billy,” you murmur, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You take a sip out of your cup. His eyes meet yours and suddenly he’s lost for words. He knows you deserve so much better than he has to offer and he knows you can see it. It’s clear as day in his eyes.

“I’m an asshole,” he shouts.

You nod your head. You already knew that.

“I know that me apologizing profusely won’t probably help my chances at getting you back, but I hope it’s a start. I’m sorry that I wasn’t honest with you from the start. I’m sorry that I used your brother—I already apologized to him. I’m sorry I got him drunk. I’m sorry that I’m a jealous asshole and wanted to make you jealous when Trinity doesn’t hold a candle when it comes to you. I know I have my issues and I know I need to work on them. I shouldn’t have treated you or Keith like you were my dirty little secrets. You deserve so much better than that. You deserve so much better than me,” he sighs, staring into your beautiful eyes.

You nod your head. Your ears ring against the crowd counting down. You know he’s sincere. You see it in his eyes. He missed you and as much as you hated to admit it, you missed him too.

Your eyes gaze around the teenagers that surrounded you and Billy. Some of them were watching you and Billy, but most were scrambling to find a partner to kiss as the countdown reached 10 seconds.

“What about your reputation?” you ask, biting your lip.

“Fuck my reputation. I want you, as long as you’ll have me.”

“I won’t be a dirty little secret?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “Fuck no. I’m showing you off. You’re gonna be my girl as long as you want to.”

“And Keith? You won’t act like he doesn’t exist? You’re not just saying this to get in my pants?”

“No, Princess. I’m not. I’ll teach him all my moves,” he smirks with a quirked brow.

You raise your eyebrows at him and he snakes his arms around your waist, pulling you close. “You’re going to kiss me in front of all these people? In front of Trinity, Carol, and Tommy?”

“Yes,” he answers, pulling you so your mouths meet right at midnight.

He sucks all the air out of you in a breathless kiss that makes your knees go weak. Your arms wrap around his neck and you accidentally spill your water on his precious black leather jacket. Fire sparks from the tips of your toes to the top of your head.

It’s firm and passionate and it keeps you on your toes. Your fingers tug at the base of his neck and you feel his lashes brush against your cheek. His fingers dig into your sides and you feel his rough palms against your skin.

You pull away, chest heaving. You’re completely out of breath and you sway briefly. You almost lost your footing. Billy holds your waist and laughs in your ear. Shivers run down your spine and you cling to him.

His eyes glaze over a dozen classmates staring straight at the two of you, stunned at what they just witnessed. Billy Hargrove had just kissed you and you had just kissed Billy Hargrove. Your secret was out.

His mouth brushes over your temple and he looks you in the eyes again. He feels the water from your cup slide down his bare back underneath his jacket and he shivers. You smirk.

“Shit, sorry,” you tease with a glint in your eyes. “It’s just water.”

He swallows your laugh with another kiss.

#billy hargrove x reader #i’m so nervous about posting this #lololol #billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove imagines #billy x reader #billy imagine #billy imagines #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove fluff #writing #fanfic #lomlbarnes

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rgr-pop · 5 years

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I need an ENTIRE afternoon wall of noise. 4/3 music library on shuffle until I hit a killdozer song.

the thermals - “god and country” reset - "double cross" nirvana - "polly" (1986-88 home recording) nirvana - "radio friendly unit shifter" (2013 mix) peterbuilt - "sateliteyes" the dickies - "got it at the store" apocalypse hoboken - "box of pills" fiona apple - "slow like honey" tex & the horseheads - "big boss man" everclear - "the drama king" anti-flag - "america got it right" neil young - "tonight's the night, pt. ii" everclear - "brown-eyed girl" noooooooooo oh my god no please millencolin - “israelites" listen you know that i'm p tolerant when it comes to this subject but why specifically did you boys do this. specifically you useless id - "note" never accuse me of pop punk nationalism again! that's three of global pop punk the selecter - "selling out your future" built to spill - "some things last a long time" holidays - "proof" let's wrestle - "bad mammaries" radhos - "one breath" ween - "boing" bracket - "g-vibe" local h - "'cha!' said the kitty" sublime - "40oz to freedom" failure - "saturday saviour" blink-182 - "don't leave me" (tmtts live take) why did they make this live album, they were so bad live shrimp boat - "melon song" interpol - "not even jail" the ataris - "angry nerd rock" 50 million - "superhero" skankin pickle - "violent love" the breeders - "put on a side" all - "honey peeps" the commandos (suicide commandos) - "weekend warrior" suicide machines - "friends are hard to find" the eclectics - "laura" good ska block! love this band pansy division - "jack u off" rocket from the tombs - "ain't it fun" dynamite boy - "devoted" young pioneers - "downtown tragedy" the breeders - "so sad about us" fenix tx - "jean claude trans am" fuck i love this song nofx - "bob" hickey - "happily ever after" bob dylan - "tangled up in blue" (bootlegs vol. 2) gas huffer - "king of hubcaps" tullycraft - "crush this town" atom and his package - "goalie" faith no more - "the real thing" carly rae jepsen - "tell me" bis - "listen up" one direction - "still the one" mtx - "she's no rocket scientist" eugene chadbourne - "roger miller medley" grouvie ghoulies - "carly simon" white town - "thursday at the blue note" gas huffer - "moon mission" rx bandits - "sleepy tyme" everclear - "rocket for the girl" failure - "kindred" blood on the saddle - "johnny's at the fair" the distillers - "red carpet and rebellion" cruiserweight - "dearest drew" stp - "plush" everclear - "wonderful" (live, from the closure ep) (don't hate it) new found glory - "sonny" everclear - "otis redding" (impure white evil demo) (BEST song) stp - "adhesive" incubus - "have you ever" cub - "tell me now" everclear - "short blonde hair" i simply do not hate it letters to cleo - "happy ever after" amazing transparent man - “the ocean is a fuck of a long way to swim” nerf herder - “(stand by your) manatee” kitty kitty - “ab tokeless” osker - “the mistakes you made” perfume genius - “hood” radhos - “shut up & deal” (welcome to the jungle take) osker - “the body” gas huffer - “the sin of sloth” the fall - “bombast” excuse 17 - “code red” mad season - “lifeless dead” unwritten law - “differences” hanson - “two tears” the eyeliners - “anywhere but here” moby grape - “lazy me” brian wilson - “wonderful” 88 fingers louie - “something i don’t know” sicko - “wisdom tooth weekend” the replacements - “love you till friday” suicide machines - “green world” midtown - “another boy” hickey - “cool kids attacked by flying monkeys” the roman invasion suite - “carnations” the beat - “tears of a clown” local h - “24 hour break up session” okay i’m awake i want to end this now toots & the maytals - “funky kingston” local h - “strict-9″ his name is alive - “her eyes were huge things” nirvana - “frances farmer will have her revenge on seattle” slapstick - “almost punk enough” urge overkill - “bionic revolution” janet jackson - “you want this” piebald - “long nights” small brown bike - “now i’m a shadow” the story so far - “left unsaid” crj - “more than a memory” tracy + the plastics - “my friends end parties” liz phair - “6′1″“ fastbacks - “555, pt. 1″ this mix is feminist now swindle - “one track” shockabilly - “burma shave” temple of the dog - “say hello to heaven” amazing transparent man - “shove” cool soul asylum cover from dekalb illinois :)) the vindictives “eating me alive” midwests only!! the judys - “radiation squirm” gulfs only!! frogpond - “sleep” flipp - “rock-n-roll star” throwing muses - “red shoes” everclear - “santa monica” throwing muses on summerland??? mekons - “atone & forsaken” holidays - “take me home country roads” this is a good tone to lead up to killdozer... true believers - “all mixed up again” prince - “adore” beulah - “queen of the populists” eveclear - “rocky mountain high” (99x live acoustic--I don’t have a date for this actually) of montreal - “dustin hoffman thinks about eating the soap” heatmiser - “stray” rickie lee jones - “woody and dutch on the slow train to peking” tar - “viaduct removal” common rider - “carry on” the frogs - “u bastards” mudhoney - “this gift” hammerbox - “outside” fuck my mom would have loved this song if it had gotten the airplay it deserved in 1993... hammerbox on summerland!!!! letters to cleo - “little rosa” kay hanley on summerland!! nine pound hammer “wrongside of the road” hanson - “with you in your dreams” (3cg demo) hamson on summerland!!! fastbacks - “555, pt. 1″ again... fastbacks on summerland!!! face to face - “sensible” soul asylum - “happy” soul asylum on summerland!!!! television - “see no evil” pinq - “careful not to mention the obvious” the dickies - “nights in white satin” tar - “mel’s” truly - “chlorine” babes in toyland - “deep song” hole - “berry” hellbender - “half driven” hammerhead - “new york? ...alone?” everclear - “malevolent” guzzard - “last” archers of loaf - “tatyana” hum - “stars” hum on summerland die kreuzen - “don’t say please” this is not fair joanna newsom - “sadie” down by law - “peace, love and understanding” nirvana - “aneurysm” (1990 demo) hovercraft - “endoradiosonde” modest mouse - “cowboy dan” rage against the machine - “born of a broken man” skatalites - “scandal ska” pylon - “driving school” the vindictives - “babysitter” jimmy eat world - “ten” the get up kids - “lowercase west thomas” oh we’re doing this now? hot rod circuit - “knees” fine triple fast action - “the rescue” FINE full disclosure i do skip emo diaries tracks at my discretion the amps - “bragging party” everclear - “am radio” this is not fair mxpx - “middlename” MXPX ON SUMMERLAND chokebore - “your let down” bob dylan - “you’re a big girl now” helmet - “primitive” pond - “filterless” blink-182 - “all the small things” local h - “ralph” tar - “over and out” pearl jam - “black” the gits - “sniveling little rat faced git” local h - “eddie vedder” >:) tar - “flow plow” i always misremember this as a subpop single so i’m like “i’m not amphetamine reptile biased?” but it was an a/r release, lol. brad wood produced it. lake michigan as hell unicorns - “jellybones” this song makes me sad ever since i didn’t get to adopt the jellybones cat oblivion - “clark” desmond dekker - “jeserene” veruca salt - “one last time” veruca salt on summerland!!!! dead moon - “dead moon night” extremely dead moon on summerland fishbone - “i like to hide behind my glasses” dead moon - “on my own” paw - “sleeping bag” tar - “goethe” doc dart - “casket with flowers” smashing pumpkins - “zero” i don’t want billy corgan on summerland and i am sorry for that kicking giant - “&” kicking giant on summerland lmao shockabilly - “pile up all architecture” ween - “sorry charlie” sublime - “april 29, 1992 (miami)” heatmiser - “blackout” the clash - “pressure drop” hellbender - “pissant’s retrospective” the queers - “i won’t be” the vindictives - “circles” the beat farmers - “selfish heart” screaming trees - “end of the universe” 7 year bitch - “second hand” bourgeois filth - “above” nirvana - “scoff” the breeders - “cannonball” saturday looks good to me - “save my life” cara beth satalino - “good ones” communique - “dagger version” soul asylum - “sometime to return” sublime - “jailhouse” tullycraft - “twee” nuns - “wild” beyonce - “countdown” the replacements - “sixteen blue” living colour - “what’s your favorite color” britney - “why should i be sad” mdc - “church and state” alice in chains - “junkhead” rage against the machine - “mic check” everclear - “nervous and weird” soundgarden - “fresh tendrils” helmet - “army of me” the gits - “it all dies anyway” pansy division - “smells like queer spirit” mtx - “i’d do anything for you” 5 year sentence - “just a punk” pennywise - “nothing” mudhoney - “thirteenth floor opening” yesterday’s kids - “eighteen” mxpx - “punk rawk show” small brown bike - “zerosum” incubus - “trouble in 421″ hanson - “speechless” incubus - “circles” dead moon - “my time has come” (!!!!) first of all is this killdozer blink-182 - “here’s your letter” everclear - “electra made me blind” (nervous & weird take) saves the day - “through being cool” groovie ghoulies - “don’t go out into the rain (you’re gonna melt)” babes in toyland - “never” husker du - “target” guzzard - “biro” fairweather - “next day flight” mcr - “house of wolves” broadcast - “until then” liz phair - “never said” the dicks - “rich daddy” quasi - “the iron worm” mustard plug - “not again” janitor joe - “boyfriend” snapcase - “new academy” neil young - “someday” blindsided - “spaceman” placebo - “without you i’m nothing” the creeps - “lakeside cabin” solomon grundy - “time is not your own” the clash - “the card cheat” silversun pickups - “common reactor” lagwagon - “leave the light on” denali - “where i landed” system of a down - “highway song” sprinkler - “personality doll” the vindictives - “structure and function” unplugged” the queers - “ursula finally has tits” we’re entering no repeats territory buffalo springfield - “expecting to fly” hit squad - “pictures of matchstick men” cows - “almost a god” hop along - “young and happy” pixies - “i’ve been tired” the fall - “spoilt victorian child” camper van chadbourne - “knock on the door” queens of the stone age - “tension head” choking victim - “war story” cool that we have gotten to drop by the greatest song ever recorded :) guttermount - “happy loving couples” audio karate - “nintendo 89″ tad - “pork chop” the kelley deal 6000 - “where did the home team go” colorfinger - “hateful” :} man or astroman - “evil plans of planet spectra” pere ubu - “arabian nights” accepting repeats for new found glory - “my friends over you” cool moving on american steel - “optimist” tom petty & the heartbreakers - “even the losers” meat puppets - “another moon” black cat music - “wine in a box” wallside - “ready” crucifucks - “pig in a blanket” the bananas - “my charmed life”

KILLDOZER - “EARL SCHEIB,” UNCOMPROMISING WAR ON ART UNDER THE DICTATORSHIP OF THE PROLETARIAT, 1994. KILLDOZER ON SUMMERLAND

#music

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