I went into four different Tower Records so far and there was little to no Dir en grey. HOW.

down to earth : d.d

brief summary: your birthday is coming up in a few days, but with your new baby the last thing you want to do is celebrate. but with the help of natalie, she ensures that you and david make the most of your birthday

word count: 1.4k requested: yes by a sweet ass anon and i am loving daddy david ugh the fluff warnings: none that i’m aware of? but if there are any do let me know!

* masterlistin’ / masterlistin’ 2.0

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it isn’t me. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)

It was your birthday in three days. Normally, this was something you spent weeks leading up to it counting down the days, waiting to celebrate with everyone. You loved your birthday because it was a chance to bring everyone together and that you got spoilt by those who love you- this was always an added bonus. 

Yet, this year it was the last thing on your mind. The thought of organising a party for everyone to attend with enough time to contemplate those who couldn’t make a certain date was exhausting. You could barely organise time with David to eat dinner as a family, let alone a birthday celebration. 

“David!” You yell through the house as your little girl bounces on your hip, gargling to herself as you wipe her mouth once more. “David!” You repeat, wandering from her bedroom as you stand at the top of the stairs.

Quickly moving through the kitchen, David slides across the wooden floorboards and stops at the bottom of the stairs. He smiles breathlessly at you both, seeing a heavy frown lining your lips.

“Everything okay?” He nervously questions, twirling his wedding ring around his finger as you let out a tired sigh. 

“No,” You admit. “Elsie has been sick again over our bedding.” 

Sighing to himself he nods before walking up the stairs toward you both. “Want me to clean it?” He mutters, watching as you shake your head. “Here,” He takes Elsie in his arms, smiling brightly to her. “Hi, baby!” He beams to his daughter as she giggles in his arms. 

“I’ll just clean it up.” You comment as you struggle to keep your eyes open as you walk back into your bedroom, yawning as you go. 

As David walks down the stairs with Elsie in his arms, his phone starts ringing. “Oh sh-” He looks down as his daughter furrows her brows together, just like her Mom. “Sugar.” He finishes, giving her a shy smile before setting her down in her high chair. 

Grabbing his phone he looks at the caller ID before picking it up. 

“Ugh, thank god you answered.” Natalie huffs loudly down the phone line.

“Hi to you too Nat.” David mumbles, looking over as Elsie stares aimlessly outside at the front garden. “What’s up?” 

On the other end, Natalie turns her head to see Zane nodding encouragingly. “Well, we were just wondering if you planned anything for Y/n’s birthday?” She asks and David shuts his eyes tightly, swearing under his breath. 

“I erm, I kinda forgot.” He admits, rubbing his eyes from tiredness and irritation. 

Natalie shakes her head to herself before reaching for her laptop. “You guys have a six month old baby,” She reminds him, knowing sometimes he forgets that he’s too hard on himself. “I doubt Y/n is even fussed about it.” 

“I think she’s forgotten too.” David lets out a dry laugh as you walk down the stairs with your arms full of washing, trailing across the floor behind you. 

“How about I sort out a cake and flowers for you, yeah?” Natalie suggests as she searches on her laptop at florists and bakeries within the area. “I doubt you’ll be awake long enough to party with us all.” She jokes and David nods along as he walks around the kitchen, standing on various toys as they squeak. 

“Yeah, we struggle past seven these days.” David yawns once again as you walk into the kitchen, forcing back your exhaustion as you smile brightly to your daughter who holds her hands up to you. 

“I’ll get it sorted, don’t you worry Dave.” Natalie tells him, smiling to herself as she can hear Elsie’s giggles in the background. “Say hi to the girls for me, yeah?” 

“I will, thanks Nat.” David hangs up shortly after, turning back to face you both as David rests his arms around your waist. “You smell like milk.” He tells you, feeling you laugh into him.

“You seriously know how to make a woman feel good, Dave.” You comment to him, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, you smell like mashed carrot and apple mixed with sick but I’m not complainin’” You add, turning to face him as you smile up at him. “Who was on the phone?” 

“Just Natalie, asking about your birthday.” He sings playfully, listening as you groan into his chest. 

“Are they planning a party or something?” You question quietly, not wanting to sound ungrateful if they are. 

David shakes his head. “Nah, they know we can’t, not just yet anyway.” He explains and you nod along. “We’re not as young as we once were.” He jokes, watching as you lift your head up.

“None of them have pushed a baby through their vagina yet.” You chuckle. “I’m sure they’d be tired if their baby kept them awake all night.” 

“I love you, you know that.” David speaks up, resting his hands on your cheeks. 

You nod, looking up at him. “Yeah, of course, you dummy.” You tell him as you lean in, kissing him softly. “And I love you too. Even if you forgot my birthday.” You whisper before turning around, lifting Elsie from her high chair and dancing through the house with her in your arms. 

*

Opening your eyes once more you roll over, seeing David absent from your side. 

Forcing yourself upright, you brush your hair back as you head down the stairs. “David?” You call out, wrapping your dressing gown tighter around yourself as the faint smell of coffee fills your nostrils. 

“I’m in the kitchen!” He yells back as the radio is turned up as you turn the corner, entering the kitchen with wide eyes. 

Displayed is a large vase of your favourite flowers along with a series of small wrapped presents. Elsie sits on the kitchen counter with a bow around her and a card in her grip. 

David turns away from the sink, revealing a plate of pancakes for you. “You did all this?” You question, rubbing your eyes in disbelief. 

“Well,” David shrugs his shoulders. “I had a bit of help.” 

You turn around as you see Natalie, Zane, Heath and Mariah appear from your living room holding balloons and a birthday cake. 

“You guys!” You stare at them all, covering your mouth as it falls open in surprise. “What is all this?” 

“Just because you both forgot doesn’t mean we did.” Mariah states, holding the cake out as Heath lights the candles. 

“You better make a wish baby!” Zane speaks up, smiling as Natalie chuckles whilst filming this all for David. 

Closing your eyes, you blow out the candles. 

Cheers form around you as you open your eyes, noticing David by your side with Elsie on his hip. “Happy birthday to Mommy, Elsie!” David uses his baby voice as Elsie giggles, making grabby hands to you once more. 

“Oh come to Momma.” You speak up, taking her from him as you kiss her little face, never tiring of her baby smell. “Thank you guys, this was just,” You chuckle, still struggling to form words. 

“You’re welcome, Y/n.” Natalie speaks up as you stutter over your own silences. “We’ll leave you three to enjoy the rest of the day.” She says as the other three wander to the front door, waving goodbye to you all. “Have a good day you guys.” Natalie calls out as she closes the door behind her, leaving the three of you alone once more.

“Did that actually happen or am I dreaming?” You think aloud, glancing up at David who is unable to wipe the smile from his face. 

“Yeah,” He mutters to you. “now, how about breakfast?” He suggests as you nod in response before sitting down at the counter with him and Elsie, looking forward to your perfectly relaxed birthday. 

“Oh no, Elsies popped her pants.” You comment and David rises to his feet. 

“I’ve got it, it’s your birthday after all.” David kisses your cheek as he takes Elsie upstairs, leaving you to eat breakfast.

“Huh,” You mutter to yourself. “wouldn’t mind it being my birthday more often.” 

the hot tea || chapter 06

⇥ synopsis : your best friend, Jackson, never fails to argue against your apathy toward love and romance, but his plan to confess his true feelings toward you is rudely interrupted when you start a blog chronicling your past relationships...

⇥ warnings : this story in its entirety includes but is not limited to strong language and dialogue, recurring alcohol or drug use, and explicit sexual content, and is intended for an adult audience only!

“I’m the only guy I know going with his girlfriend to pick out prom dresses.”

The international school you both attended liked to do things completely out of order. Your friends in America had already enjoyed their prom, meanwhile you were only a day past final exams and graduation was looming next week. The timing could not have been more chaotic.

Glancing over your shoulder, you rolled your eyes at your boyfriend as he trudged behind you and said, “That’s because I wasn’t planning on going and this is last minute. All the girls have already gotten theirs and I am not doing this alone.”

Like a petulant child, Mark huffed, “Fine.”

You threw up your hands. “Not my fault you asked me to be your girlfriend a week before prom.”

Mark muttered under his breath, “I was gonna ask you to be my date anyway.”

You stopped, meeting his eyes. “You were?”

“Duh.”

Smiling, you cooed a high-pitched. “Awe.”

Mark shook his head with a laugh and teased, “Focus.”

“Yes, dear,” you retorted.

The next time you met eyes with your boyfriend of one week, you were stepping out of the dressing room in a sapphire colored gown that was much too long.

Mark glanced up from his phone and bobbed his head in approval. “Very nice,” he said in a low tone of voice.

You mulled over yourself in the adjacent mirror, hands on your hips. “A little boring, huh?”

He droned, “It’s only the first one, am I right?”

“You sound thrilled.”

Mark pointed at the door. “Next!”

“Ugh,” you grumbled, returning to the dressing room.

The next gown was fiery red, the colors falling in an ombre down the length of your body. It was a bit ornate for your tastes, but maybe Mark would be into you making a bold fashion statement.

When you stepped out, Mark took one look and lifted a piece of paper he had managed to find in the five minutes it took you to get dressed.

On it was written, nope.

“Seriously?” you snapped, feigning annoyance.

Mark shrugged and replied playfully, “That’s how I feel.”

“Alright,” you exhaled, sashaying back into the dressing room.

Five dresses later, you had only seen the other side of his sign (which read “yep”) on one dress; dark green with a rhinestone encrusted bodice. It was pretty, but you were hoping for something better.

Next came hot pink taffeta, billowing in heavy layers. It was downright hideous. But you knew Mark was losing the will to live and you wanted to get a laugh out of him.

Which you did rather triumphantly.

Mark tossed his head back and laughed until his eyes scrunched. You put your hands on your waist and strutted toward him in your best model runway walk, turning dramatically before him in the ugly dress.

“Yeah, that’s the winner,” said Mark with a slow clap of his hands.

You snorted, amazed how loud the material was with every step you took. “Last one, babe,” you told him as you swished your hips from side to side on your way back to the dressing room.

Mark cast his gaze upward toward the ceiling and groaned, “There is a God.”

Donning the final prom gown option, you glanced at yourself in the mirror and knew this one was the kicker. Gold with cream-colored patterns winding around your middle, it hugged your curves with delight and draped silkily down your legs with a sheer gossamer layer trailing behind you.

You stepped out, eyes on your toes before glancing up to hear the verdict. Mark simply stared, his eyes raking over every inch of you on display before him. A goddess had just stepped out from the dressing room. You were practically glowing.

“Well?” you asked sheepishly.

Mark held up the “yep” sign high above his head with both hands.

You smiled, tucking hair behind your ear. “You alright with wearing a gold tie?”

“I would wear a clown bow if it meant I got to look at you in that for a night.”

You were impressed. “Wow.”

“Damn,” Mark added.

“Looks like we have our dress then,” you spoke softly, a little taken aback by the fire in his eyes. “I’ll take it off, swipe my Dad’s credit card, and we can finally go.”

Mark gave you a thumbs up. “Sounds like a plan.”

The joking and teasing was long gone from before. Your heart had picked up speed in your chest. Never had Mark looked at you like that - like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. You would never forget the sight of his jaw scraping across the ground.

Smiling to yourself like a giddy little girl, you tugged at the zipper and didn’t bat an eye when it refused to budge. Moving your arms around, you tried again and still no movement. You made a few more attempts to no avail and that was when you panicked.

“Mark?”

He called back, “Yeah?”

“I, um, well…,” you trailed.

“I’ve got all day,” he deadpanned.

Your face was hot with embarrassment. “The zipper is stuck.”

Mark’s heart skipped a beat. The hour of misery was officially worth it. “I’m coming in,” he announced, moving rather briskly to the dressing room door.

You cracked it open, only revealing one of your eyes and a glimpse of your stern frown. “Do not get me in trouble,” you hissed.

He placed his palms together in front of his chest. “Cross my heart.”

You opened the door, pulled him inside, and locked it swiftly.

“What does this remind me of?” your boyfriend teased, reflecting on that night at the party. The first time you two kissed.

The memory came blazing back into your mind, too. Of that little closet where Mark finally revealed his feelings to you. But you were in too big of a crisis at the moment to linger in it. “Oh, hush, Tuan. I need assistance.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” he teased. In all your time together, he had never looked so mischievous.

Holding up a finger, you told him, “Under no circumstances are you to make any comments about my bra or underwear.”

Mark wiggled his brows. “Are they matching?”

“For fuck’s sake, you’re such a boy.”

“Language,” Mark quipped, never passing up the opportunity to get under your skin. You had been best friends much, much longer than lovers. “Turn around and let me help you.”

You grumbled, but did as told, putting your back to him and drawing your hair out of the way.

Mark stepped closer, close enough you could feel the warmth of his presence on your bare shoulders. His fingers clasped the zipper and tugged, finding some resistance. With a few more pulls, the thing gave way and Mark drew it down your spine.

Had the zipper been that far down when you put the dress on? Your cheeks were flushing with heat when he finally brought it to the end. At the lowest curve of your back where the hem of your pink panties were peeking.

“Okay,” Mark whispered.

“Thank you,” was all you could muster, swallowing the lump in your throat at the tension that had managed to fill the tiny dressing room in the past few seconds.

Mark called your name.

“Yes?”

His voice was a low, hungry growl, “How does your skin look so soft?”

You blushed even more. “It’s probably the lighting in here.”

His eyes were roaming up and down your naked back. Clenching his hands into fists, they were borderline shaking as he staved off the urge to touch you.

“You know, it would take no time at all for me to flick this bra off,” Mark commented offhandedly, but almost in a challenge.

You chuckled. “As someone who has been wearing bras for years, it’s definitely not that easy.”

Mark slipped a finger under your bra strap and let it go before you could realize what he had done. The strap smacked against your skin with a loud, echoing crack and you exclaimed his name in surprise, whipping around to scold your boyfriend for being such an obnoxious brat.

“You little…”

Mark backed you into the wall, enclosing you in his arms and pressing his lips to yours. You smiled against his mouth, wanting so badly to giggle. Carding your fingers into his hair, you kissed him back with abandon.

You liked kissing Mark. Over the past few days, it had clearly become one of your favorite pastimes. The two of you kissed like it was second nature and you just couldn’t stop. You finally understood what puppy love was like. You wanted to be around each other constantly. Your heart hurt when he wasn’t within arm’s reach.

His hurried kisses began to slow and you felt your body thrumming with excitement, but also a longing for something more. He slipped his tongue into your mouth and you battled him for dominance, tugging your grip on his hair and humming softly with contentment.

Mark made a noise, like he was trying to say something but didn’t want to be parted from your lips for even a second. However, the sound you had just made registered squarely in his pants. Finally, he broke the kiss and dropped his head to rest on your shoulder, whining quietly, “We have to stop.”

“Why?” you pouted, wrapping your arms around his waist snugly.

Your boyfriend retorted, “Or I’m going to be walking around the mall with a raging boner.”

You snorted a laugh and quickly covered your face with both hands, hiding in embarrassment.

Mark was snickering, grabbing your wrists and trying to pry them away so he could see your flustered expression. One look at the grin he was sporting made you want to melt.

“I’m sorry,” you teased. “This is the first time I’ve ever… caused one of those.”

“No, it’s not,” Mark replied without missing a beat.

“Oh, god,” you mumbled, wanting to vanish into the wall out of sight.

Mark grabbed your hands again before you could hide behind them and leaned forward to peck the most delicate of kisses on your nose. “I really, really like kissing you,” he whispered, sweet as could be.

“So do I,” you said softly, your attention falling back to his lips. Damn it, you wanted to steal another kiss.

Mark lowered his head shyly, then reached forward to grab the strap of your dress and return it to its position on your shoulder like a gentleman. In all the commotion, you had forgotten the dress was only hanging on by those two straps.

“My vote is for this one,” he said, shuffling toward the door but never turning away from you.

You held the gown securely with your hands, feeling the sharp cold of the wall on your bare back. “Then we have a winner.”

“Okay, I’m going back out here now.”

“I’m right behind you.”

He stepped out, closing the door behind him, and you were left to smile like a blissful idiot.

Closing the laptop, you let go a heavy sigh, resting your head on your hand. Your phone chimed again. Jackson would be on his way to your place after meeting with his friend, but the trip down memory lane spoiled your mood.

Well, your mood for sex at least. After writing and posting the latest entry to your blog, you found you weren’t in the mood to have your brains fucked out.

Downstairs, unbeknownst to you, Jackson finished sending his text to you and slipped the phone into his back pocket. Mark stepped through the door, making the little bell jingle and greeted his friend warmly.

“What’s up, brother?” Jackson replied, grasping his hand.

“All good,” said Mark. “And you?”

Jackson gleamed. “Work hard. Play hard.”

“Still stealing my shit, huh?” Mark joked.

Jackson gulped. The thought of you moaning his name beneath him flashed through his mind.

The two proceeded to chat, catching up. Though they were best friends, life had kept them apart. Busy schedules came before best friends. But deep down, Jackson knew he didn’t make as much effort as he could to see him.

Jackson was an awful liar and the less situations he had to lie in, the better off he was. Mark would never approve of you, his first love, being in Jackson’s bed and Jackson damn well knew that.

“How is she?” Mark asked after some time had passed.

Jackson sucked in a breath. Mark introduced you to him, as a landlord not as a potential partner. He would never speak to him again if he knew you were sleeping together.

“She’s doing good, man,” Jackson finally answered. “Works like a dog. Just like the rest of us.”

Mark nodded. “She called me the other night.”

Jackson strained to hide his surprise, suddenly very nervous. “Oh?”

“Yeah, she sounded kinda off.”

“She’s my friend. I see her all the time.” Jackson paused, choosing his words carefully. “I tell her that she works too hard.”

Mark ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I know I screwed up in a lot of ways, but she’s a good person and she means something to me. I still... just want the best for her.”

“I understand.”

There was a brief, awkward silence. Mark predictably expected Jackson to fill the void with his usual chatty disposition, but Jackson didn’t dare risk giving any hint to the nature of his relationship with you.

Having somewhere to be, Mark stood to leave not long after, embracing his friend and saying, “Next time you’re on my side of town, drop in. I can show you the new setup.”

Jackson agreed he would and added with amusement, “You go through gaming computers faster than you do girls.”

Mark chortled, but his voice was melancholy. “Hey, when you’ve already had Mrs. Right, all you’re left with is Mrs. Right Now.”

Blinking in surprise, Jackson thought of you again and another piece of the puzzle seemed to fall into place.

chapter 05 ⇤ chapter 06 ⇥ chapter 07

Hey there, beautiful! If you enjoyed this, please leave a like or reblog or follow me! Or maybe buy me a coffee so I can keep writing? Or check out my masterlist here for more stories! Thanks for reading :) - Katya

This work is fictional and for entertainment purposes only, but is licensed and protected under a creative commons attribution-noncommercial-noderivatives 4.0 international license. Any instances of plagiarism will be dealt with accordingly. Do not re-post or translate without my permission.

{ copyright 2018-2020 © ahgaseda // all rights reserved }

Friends in Dark Places [ch 12]

pairing: moxiety, eventual logince, background eventual remile, background eventual remy/emile/deceit

WARNINGS: sensory overload, panic attacks, self hate, school dances, swearing, food mentions, kissing, embarrassment, rumors, eating, possibly something else

tag list: @hufflepuffgirl01 @cocobearthe4th @cas-is-a-hunter @band-be-boss-blog @theunoriginaldaisy

a/n: so i have to repost all of these in a different format! yay fucking me!!!! please consider reblogging these if you’re a fan of this series because it’s all fucked up now

first - previous - next - companions

consider buying me a coffee (please)

-

“So, Virgil. Are you going to prom?” Roman casually asked before popping a french fry in his mouth.

“Um, I don’t know. I wasn’t planning on it.” Virgil absently dipped a chicken nugget into the pool of ranch on his tray. He really hadn’t thought about prom that much. Plus, the thought of a whole bunch of his peers stuck in one room together, probably grinding with their respective dates, was not a pleasant one.

“Awww, kiddo! You should go! You could come with us; we’re going to grab dinner and everything,” Patton whined.

“I mean, I guess?” Virgil grimaced as he weighed the options. “But don’t I have to rent a tux? I don’t have money for that, especially not after what happened on Monday. I’d be surprised to find my credit card still working with all of that in mind.”

Logan jumped into the conversation. “You would have to rent a tux, yes, but the three of us would be more than happy to help cover your expenses. We value you as a member of our friend group, and we wouldn’t exclude you from something just because you couldn’t afford it.”

Virgil opened his mouth to argue, but Roman interjected, “Dude, seriously. Just let us do this for you. It’ll be fun!”

“Plus, Ro already bought you a ticket,” Logan added and held out a small slip of cardstock. Westview Junior Prom.

Well, Virgil Thomas was now going to prom.

---

“Hey, Pat? Can you help me with my tie?” Virgil called from his bathroom. He had been struggling for the past five minutes trying to figure out the witchcraft behind ties, and he still had zero clue as to what he was supposed to be doing.

“Be right there, kiddo!” It was only a few moments before soft footsteps could be heard approaching, and Patton walked into the bathroom. He’d already mostly finished getting ready sans the fact that his hair was a catastrophic mess. Virgil could guess that he’d been trying to fix it when he’d been called into the other room.

“Alright. Work your magic,” Virgil smirked. In a matter of seconds, Patton had looped and pulled the tie into place, gently tightening it around Virgil’s neck. It was deep purple, picked out specifically because of his dislike of most other colors, and it went very well with the blues and reds of the others’ ties. The tie also matched the freshly dyed purple hair that Roman had forced his three friends to do along with him earlier that afternoon. What an ass.

Virgil admired his reflection. “Dude, what the fuck? How did you do that?” He felt oddly confident in his skin. The same feeling had come about a few times since he’d met Patton, and he had to admit that it was nice. Pat’s happy-go-lucky attitude somehow perfectly meshed with Virgil’s own doom-and-gloom one, forming a hilariously compatible friendship.

Patton smiled and ruffled Virgil hair, much to the other’s dismay. “Now that I helped you, will you please fix my hair.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“I mean it, Virge! Look at this.” Pat ran his fingers through his hair and aggressively tugged when he reached a clump of knots.

“Okay, yeah, we’re fixing that right now.”

---

“Dinner? Really, Patton? You guys couldn’t have told me about this before?” Virgil whined as the four walked into the diner. Yes, a diner, which meant that they were ridiculously overdressed; every other patron was wearing some sort of flannel and jeans combo. It smelled great, sure, but it was so unexpected that he couldn’t help but feel on edge.

“It’s our favorite restaurant,” Logan explained. “We always come here before school events. Roman has coined it as some sort of weird ritual, but it’s mostly tradition.” He led Virgil to the booth that Patton and Roman had already rushed to sit in.

“Plus, we’re friends with the staff,” Ro started with a smile. “You’ll love them; they’re all super nice. Speaking of, here comes Emilia.”

A young lady with brown hair walked up to their table, pulling out her small notepad. “Well, who do we have here? Another addition to our little group of customers of the month for every month since 2014?”

“Hey, Emilia!” Patton said. “This is Virgil; he’s a new friend of ours. He’s been living with me for a few weeks while his dad is out of the country on business.”

“That’s sweet, Patton. Now, what can I get for you guys?”

The three regulars spouted off their orders, clearly versed in what they wanted to eat. Suddenly, all eyes turned to Virgil. He’d barely been able to look over the menu in the time the others had taken to order.

“Uh… I… Um…” He stuttered. Every drop of intelligence that he had in his body was gone in an instant, and he was left a bumbling mess.

“He’ll have a cheeseburger and fries, thanks,” Patton cut in, saving his friend from any further embarrassment.

“Alright! I’ll be back in a few with your food and a pitcher of water!” Emilia gave the boys another smile before she walked back behind the counter to tend to other customers. Almost immediately, Patton and Roman launched themselves into a fast paced discussion about the upcoming festivities. Virgil, unsurprisingly, not only felt anxious, but he also felt like a complete idiot. He was just ordering dinner--there was no reason for him to have been so freaked out.

Virgil felt a hand rest on his left shoulder, turning to see Logan with a worried expression etched on his face. “Are you okay? Do you need to step outside for a moment to regain composure? I’d be willing to go with you if you don’t want to be alone.”

“Uh, no. I’m okay. I’m just a little worried. I mean, this is my first proper school event in, like, ever, and it’s freaking intimidating. You guys go to these things multiple times a year?” Virgil ran his hands through his hair, distressed.

“I understand. When Roman and Patton first made me come with them to homecoming, I was so nervous that I nearly passed out on the way here. Thankfully, I wasn’t driving us everywhere back then otherwise that would’ve ended in a disaster.” Logan gave Virgil a small smile, adding to the tiny--yet slowly growing--list of his outward displays of emotion. Virgil knew Lo wasn’t an emotionless android, but Roman and Patton were so all over the place that someone needed to play the calm and collected one.

“They can be pretty intense,” Virgil commented with a smile at the enthusiastic conversation across the table from them. Both of the teens were grinning and flinging their hands around in wild gestures, barely avoiding impact.

“Yeah, they sure can.” Logan glanced at the other side of the table with a fond expression, but he quickly snapped out of his reverie. “Don’t worry about the dance. Oh, here!” He pulled a pair of earbuds out of his inside jacket pocket and held them out to Virgil. “It gets pretty loud at these dances. I’ve observed that you put on headphones when it gets too noisy, so I brought these just in case you didn’t have your own.”

Virgil pocketed them just as Emilia finally returned with their food. The other three immediately began to dig in while he hesitantly poked at his burger. He picked up a fry and lazily popped it into his mouth.

He picked at his fries for a few minutes, but he eventually worked his way up to taking a bite of his burger. “Holy shit! This stuff is great--wait, why haven’t you taken me here yet?”

“I was trying to ease you into our friend group, so I thought eating dinner at my house would save you some unnecessary interaction,” Pat explained. “Obviously, that was a crime against your taste buds.”

“Of course it was, Patton. Depriving anyone of this blessed food is practically a war crime!” Roman dramatically stated, throwing out his arms. Virgil snorted at the theatrics.

They continued to eat, and all but Virgil had finished their dinner when Emilia returned to their table for dessert orders. Logan ordered a slice of pecan pie for himself, a chocolate lava cake for Roman, a hot fudge sundae for Patton, and a caramel shake for Virgil. Patton, of course, began to spout off a review of all of the desserts they’d ordered, even though Virgil wouldn’t be eating most of them. They all listened politely, not really absorbing any of the information, until their orders arrived. Within a nanosecond, Pat’s face was stuffed full of vanilla ice cream and fudge sauce, easily and efficiently shutting him up.

They ate in near silence, save for the “light” discussion of whether cake or pie was better (Patton eventually had to cut in when Roman threatened Logan with a butterknife). Pat covered the whole bill once they’d finished, claiming “it’s my way of thanking you guys for putting up with my shenanigans.”

---

“Three, two, one!” Roman dramatically counted as he threw the doors to the venue open. Time seemed to freeze as the four friends stepped in; all eyes snapped to them. It had been days since they’d been the topic of gossip at school, but that didn’t mean the student body had lost their interest in the boys.

Roman was at the front of the group, confidently striding to the grand staircase and adjusting his red tie. Logan followed close behind, who looked absolutely stunning in the sharp suit and deep blue tie. Then was Patton, who was marveling at the cascading flower vines and glittering fairy lights. And last but certainly not least…

Virgil. He had a wary smile on his face, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his slacks. The boy made absolutely sure that he didn’t get lost; he kept eyes on Patton the entire time they descended the stairs.

Logan had been right; it was fucking loud. People were screaming left and right, and the music was so loud that Virgil could feel every beat vibrate in his chest. He was lucky that he’d put the earbuds in before they’d arrived, or he never would have stepped inside the venue.

Patton turned around to check on Virgil, obviously sensing the tension building in his friend. He held out his hand for Virgil, who hesitated for just a moment before gently taking it. If people wanted to believe they were together, that wasn’t his problem. It was no skin off his back.

They talked and danced for what felt like hours, and Virgil even joined in on a few of the dances he knew. He was having fun. He smiled and laughed, and it was all genuine! In just a few short weeks, Patton had actually transformed him from a suicidal nightmare into someone who found joy in life. It was a stupid sentiment, and he knew it, but it still brought Virgil a bit of warmth in his chest.

The DJ announced a slow dance. Ugh, how awful. He had nobody to dance with; it was just—

Oh.

Patton tugged Virgil’s hand lightly, pulling their bodies closer together. “Wanna dance? We don’t have to, of course, but it would be a fun first experience for both of us!”

“I—Uh, sure,” Virgil mumbled, trying to hide his gently growing blush. Pat gently guided Virgil’s hands around his neck and placed his own on Virgil’s waist. For the first time, Virgil noticed that he was just an inch or so taller than his friend. Reveling in the warmth and closeness, the two swayed together to the gentle rhythm.

The song ended, and Virgil stepped back, shoving his hands into his pockets. He was extremely grateful that the low light hid his pink cheeks. The screaming resumed as couples broke apart, and early 2000s rap boomed out of the speakers.

And then just like that, Virgil was attacked by anxiety. His hands started shaking, and he rushed away from the small group he was in, mumbling something about going to the bathroom. He calmed slightly when he had made it outside, where he simply collapsed to the ground, but then his panic picked up again when he realized how fucking alone he was always going to be.

Nobody would love the weird guy who rushes out on social gatherings for no fucking reason! Why should they? Virgil had nothing to offer; he was just a guy who had snark to rival Roman and barely two cents to his name.

Tears streamed down his face, running in dark gray streaks as they mixed with his black eye makeup. He could feel his chest heaving, but little air actually made it into his body. Everything was working overtime yet nothing actually happened. Virgil stayed sobbing on the ground. Nothing. Changed.

“Virge, honey? Do you need me to call my mom and have her pick us up?” Patton slowly lowered himself next to Virgil, talking softly so that he woudn’t stir up anything worse.

“N-No! I’ll… I’ll… Fuck!” Virgil cried as he ripped the earbuds out of his ears. He threw the cord a few feet away, instantly regretting it as the sound of shattering plastic reached his ears. He’d have to buy Logan new ones. He couldn’t afford to replace them.

“Goodness gracious, Virgil. It’s okay. I’m going to call Logan, and we’re going to get you out of here—“

“I-I-I don’t… want t-t-to… ruin… night…” Virgil sputtered. He was having trouble pushing the words out; all of them got stuck in his throat.

Patton carefully began to comb through Virgil’s hair with his fingers in an attempt to soothe the attack. “Don’t worry about that, kiddo. There isn’t much more fun to be had, anyway. We still love you—I still love you.”

That’s it. That’s what he felt. Love. He loved Patton.

All of the impulse control he had—though, truthfully, there was very little to begin with—left his body. He reached out and brought Pat’s face to his own, lightly kissing him. Patton stiffened for a fraction of a second before relaxing into the kiss. They were both going to regret this later, but what did that matter in the moment?

next

make it feel good (m) | taehyung

pairing: taehyung x black female oc genre: smut, fluff, and a lil bit of angst summary: in which two best friends realize what they've been missing out on this whole time. word count: 7.5k warnings: dirty talk, food play...if you squint, body insecurities a/n: i don’t know if this would be considered idol x reader since ole girl has a name but you can imagine her as whothefuckever (as long as she remains black...lmao) i just hate writing 2nd person “you” and it felt awkward to keep saying “she” so i gave her a name. i crossposted this to wattpad for like 2 seconds but took it down just so everyone knows. maybe i’ll post it again. also yeah this title is based off the childish gambino song lol.

His voice floats on the wind.

The air is cold, and she has to pull her oversized coat tighter around herself so she doesn't freeze. She thinks about buttoning the coat up, but her fingers are stiff from the low temperature, and she doesn't feel like expending the extra effort to flex them into such complicated positions.

She turns around to look at him. He is waving something small and indiscernible in between his long fingers, although she can guess it's probably a seashell or some similar object. From this angle the wind blows straight into her face, stinging her eyes and making them well up with tears. She turns her face away from the wind's assault and faces the ocean again, waiting for him to come over to her and display his new finding.

It only takes a few seconds before he's right beside her again. She feels him before she even sees him. His body heat radiates out in every direction, indifferent to the cold that leeches the warmth out of everything.

"Look," he says gently, his deep voice right in her ear. He holds his hand out in front of her. There's a small rock tucked in his palm; it's shiny with jagged edges and darker than the blackest night. His fingers curl around it as if he's trying to shield it from the wind. She cautiously brushes it with her index finger and it's a strange sort of smooth-rough texture. Still rubbing the surface of the rock, her eyes drag up and up, away from his hand until her gaze is resting on his lips, a bit chapped but still rose pink, and further up to his eyes, which are focused on the object in his palm.

Suddenly he flicks his eyes up to hers, meeting her gaze head-on, and she can't help the tremble that reverberates through her entire body. She pulls her hand away from the rock in a restrained gesture, trying not to move too quickly and betray her utter nervousness. In her haste, her fingers skim past his own and her skin burns. He smiles softly at her. His eyes, in this moment, are impossibly warm. They portray a multitude of things she can't bring herself to acknowledge, or figure out, or accept. Moments like these make her infinitely grateful for her dark skin; the heat spreading across her face won't be revealed.

She's hot enough just from the way he's looking at her, but she pulls her coat closer again—more out of insecurity than any real need for warmth. She averts her eyes in a way that she hopes isn't too obviously embarrassed or flustered, though she's sure he's already caught on to something. He has always been able to read her like a book, and with the increased proximity their vacation brings, she's not sure how much longer the both of them can keep pretending like there isn’t something steadily building between them. Her unmoved facade has begun to splinter and slip.

The sound of the waves does little to calm her nerves as she looks at a point on the horizon, impossible to see clearly from the cover of night.

"Taehyung, maybe we should head back now. It's getting late," Nayana says, keeping her voice as even as possible.

Taehyung stares silently at her for a few seconds longer, and even though she can only see him in her periphery, the simple action elicits a variety of emotions that make the corners of her mind fuzzy. Then he nods, pocketing the rock and giving her his signature boxy smile, as if nothing occurred. "Sure, let's go."

The walk back to the hotel is quiet. Not uncomfortably quiet—at least she hopes not—but there's a stillness that fills in the gaps between their minds and bodies.

There aren't too many people in the lobby this late. Most are up in their rooms tending to their own business or out partying—which is what their group of friends had opted for. It was Jungkook's idea, of course, and if anything was his idea, Lisa was up for it, which resulted in everyone else tagging along—everyone except Taehyung.

Nayana had decided to keep him company so he wouldn't be completely alone, which wasn't hard to do since their friends' excellent room-matching skills left them occupying the same room. Yet another undercover scheme to get them closer together and goad them into eventually revealing their feelings for one other. It was the kind of thing they were all acutely aware of but didn't speak on for fear of whatever consequences lie on the other side.

On the elevator ride to the fourth floor, Taehyung nudges Nayana repeatedly and makes faces at her through the elevator's mirrored panels until she finally smiles and shoves him back. He laughs, and her heart beats a little faster at the sound.

They get off at their floor and head to their room toward the end of the hall. Nayana trails slightly behind him so she can observe his back view, admiring his broad shoulders and long legs. He'd changed a lot since they first met; she still remembers the young, small boy he used to be. On occasions when she takes the time to really think about it, the contrast between his past and current self is jarring—but not in a bad way.

She is startled out of her thoughts when he looks at her over his shoulder.

"Why are you all the way back there? Are you staring at my ass?" He says it loud enough so that anyone currently in their hotel room could probably hear it, and she knows he's trying to embarrass her. Nostalgic moment = ruined.

"Ugh. Boy, shut the fuck up." Nayana snorts and rolls her eyes, and this makes him giggle. "Give me something to stare at and maybe I would."

"Are you saying I don't have an ass?" Taehyung asks teasingly as he slides the hotel key into the card reader. "Then be generous and give me some of yours."

"In your fucking dreams, Taehyung," Nayana scoffs and punches him in the arm. Their push-and-pull game of innocent flirtation is nothing new. But ever since her feelings for him began to tip away from merely platonic, his comments never failed to make her falter and sweat and wonder if anything he said could be an indicator of his own interest.

She's glad their friends at least had the decency to leave them in a room with two beds.

Nayana makes her way over to the far side of the room, near the window, where her bed is located. There's a balcony outside the window, and from her bed, she has a nice view of the ocean below when the curtains are pulled back.

"Do you wanna shower first?" Taehyung asks, hovering near his suitcase as he waits for her answer.

"I'm surprised you're not suggesting we shower together and save water," she responds, still looking out the window.

"I mean, I'm down if you are." Nayana doesn't even have to look at him to know he's smirking and raising his eyebrows in that way she (loves) hates. She laughs airily and sheds her coat and shoes before rolling over onto the bed, her braids haloing out around her head. She drops her purse onto the nightstand and pulls her phone out.

"You go first, I take too long in the shower and I don't want to keep you waiting forever."

While he's in the shower, Nayana's phone pings, signaling a new text message.

11:45 P.M. LaLisaaaa 💕💕 what u doing girl??

11:46 P.M. Nothing...just waiting on Tae to get out the shower. Why?

11:47 P.M. LaLisaaaa 💕💕 are u and taehyungie gonna have some fun?

11:49 PM We already went out and walked on the beach earlier...

11:50 P.M. LaLisaaaa 💕💕 u know that's not the kind of fun i'm referencing sis.

11:52 P.M. BYE GIRL. I have no clue what you're talking about me and Tae are just friends

11:52 P.M. LaLisaaaa 💕💕 but we all know u'd rather be more.

11:53 P.M. ANYWAY why are you texting me? You're at the club bitch ain't you supposed to be partying????

11:55 P.M. LaLisaaaa 💕💕 this place is lowkey lame. nothing but corny wannabe rappers selling mixtapes in here. i've already cussed out two dudes who tried to get at nakiya. yoongi and namjoon are close to losing their tempers. lucia's drunk af and jungkook is babysitting her. we'll probably be back soon.

11:55 P.M. LaLisaaaa 💕💕 thinking back on it, it's a good thing u ended up in the room with taehyungie instead of me. i'd h8 to come back and walk in on u getting ur cakes smashed to smithereens

11:56 P.M. Lisa.............please

11:57 P.M. LaLisaaaa 💕💕 😘 u love me. have fun . and know tht i slipped some condoms in your purse pocket. be safe bitch.

11:58 P.M. 🖕🏿🖕🏿🖕🏿🖕🏿

Nayana grabs her purse off the nightstand and checks every pocket, just to see if Lisa was fucking with her or not. Sure enough, on the inside pocket, there is a strand of condoms tucked snugly inside. The backs of her knees tingle and her body grows hot as she allows herself to entertain the idea of using them...with him...who is currently still in the shower, very much naked and very much wet. Immediately after this thought crosses her mind, she squeezes her eyes shut and groans, silently berating herself.

Girl, stop! You're not even sure if he likes you or not. And even if he did...you cannot have sex with him.

The shower cuts off. Her heart rate kicks up. She zips her purse back up and closes out of her messages. Although she knows mind reading is impossible, she can't help but imagine what he'd say if he knew what she was just thinking. She lies back on the pillows and tries to look as inconspicuous as possible when Taehyung comes out of the shower, wrapped in one of the complimentary bath robes the hotel provided. "It's all yours," he says, and she nods before gathering her toiletries and entering the bathroom.

When Nayana finally comes out of the bathroom, she finds Taehyung lying on his bed still in his bath robe, watching something on his phone and eating from a bag of Hershey's Kisses. She pauses near his bed, her facial expression stuck halfway between amusement and incredulity. "Where did you get those?"

"I brought them with me," he says, wiggling his toes in the direction of his suitcase.

She raises one eyebrow, crossing to her side of the room and putting her dirty clothes away in a laundry bag. "Are you gonna share? 'Cause I feel some kinda way about you eating chocolate all up in my face when you know it's my number one weakness."

Taehyung pats the open space on the bed beside him. "Come watch this cheesy ass k-drama with me and you can have some." Nayana goes to take him up on his offer but hesitates when she realizes that she will be sitting beside him while he's wearing the robe—with nothing underneath. Taehyung notices the awkward smile on her face and sits up, his k-drama momentarily forgotten. "Oh, I can change if you're uncomfortable, I—I just—you know how it is when you plan on getting dressed after a shower but then you're distracted by something? Yeah, I—um, sorry."

Seeing Taehyung assume the opposite position in their usual interactions—flustered and stumbling—makes Nayana feel less embarrassed about her own chaotic emotions, and a small part of her even takes pleasure in it. Before she can think twice about her actions, she's already climbing onto his bed and tugging at his arm to pull him back down. "It's fine, you don't need to. We're friends, right?" She instantly regrets saying that, but it's the first thing she can think of to assuage his nervousness. He nods, but his responding smile appears just as strained as hers was moments ago.

Taehyung turns the volume all the way up and holds the phone so they can both comfortably watch it. They have to huddle closer than Nayana anticipated, and he's practically lying on her chest, but she doesn't mind it much. The bag of Hershey's sits in the minimal space between them and they take turns taking Kisses out of it. The wrappers collect in a little pile on the bed.

In the drama they're watching, a scene comes up where the main girl is being fed by her love-interest-slash-mortal-enemy after fracturing her wrist and being unable to lift the utensils herself. The overly romantic music combined with both actors' exaggerated facial expressions makes Taehyung burst out laughing. Nayana startles and looks at him with wide eyes.

"Can you believe that? Who does this?"

"What, feeding each other? You've never done that before?"

"I was more referring to the fact that she's letting her so-called enemy feed her with a spoon," Taehyung says, rolling his eyes. Nayana elbows him in the side. "But yeah, the feeding part is so corny."

"Really. It's kind of cute to me..." Taehyung throws Nayana a skeptical look and she instantly feels judged. She scrambles to put together a response before he can open his mouth. "I—I mean, isn't it obvious? It's not so much the act itself but it's the feeling of being cared for...knowing that someone else cares enough to make sure you're good." Taehyung's expression shows that he's turning something over in his mind, but he doesn't say anything. His eyes go back to the phone screen and she thinks that he's dropped the subject, so she relaxes again—until he says,

"So you like being taken care of?"

His words come out careful and measured. It's an odd question, and she wonders where he's going with it. She's hesitant to answer. The crinkling sound of him opening another Hershey's Kiss distracts a part of her mind.

"...Yes. Who doesn't?"

"You would be surprised," he mumbles. Before Nayana can ask what he means by that, the words are halted in her throat as she watches him balance the little piece of chocolate between his fingers and bring it up to her lips. It's so close that if she were to pucker her lips, she would touch it easily.

"What are you doing?"

"Feeding you."

A puff of air leaves her lips—the beginnings of a why?—but she decides not to ask. Because this is another of those precarious situations that could catapult their friendship into uncharted territory, and she is deathly afraid to go plunging into that terrain without armor, a shield, and a backup plan. So, she takes the candy without asking any questions. She's very careful not to close her lips around his fingers. This is already more suggestive than she thinks her poor cardiovascular system can handle.

Taehyung's mouth quirks up in a smile, but he doesn't seem satisfied.

"Now, feed me."

"Greedy ass. Weren't you the one calling it corny?" she jokes, but she reaches into the bag anyway. Her body thrums with anxiety and it takes a few tries before she can still her fingers enough to actually grab a Kiss. She wants to believe that she is playing it cool enough to where he won't pick up on her inner turmoil, but she knows that isn't true.

Nayana peels the wrapper off and guides the chocolate to his plush lips. He leans closer and opens his mouth, capturing the candy with this tongue. Unlike her, Taehyung isn't afraid of an overly intimate touch; he allows his tongue to glide across her fingertips. The thing that nearly knocks the wind out of her chest, though, is the way he keeps eye contact with her the entire time. The act of eating chocolate has never been so erotic. He makes it look like something wicked.

The phone is lying on the bed now, the k-drama paused and forgotten.

Taehyung unwraps another candy, but his eyes don't leave her face.

He feeds Nayana again, and again she avoids touching his fingers. When she has eaten the chocolate, she expects him to take his hand away so he can have his turn, but he doesn't. His fingers hover in front of her mouth.

"You—you have chocolate right...here." Taehyung presses his thumb onto her full bottom lip and swipes across, albeit much slower than he needs to. Her breath hitches and stutters at this action. She regards him with disbelieving eyes, her mind jumbled together with a hundred different thoughts. When he pulls away from her, he brings his thumb to his own mouth and licks the smear of chocolate away. His expression is unreadable—at first. But then he moves his hand, and she is almost horrified to see the small smirk there.

This single look changes something. Or everything.

For once in her life, Nayana doesn't think about the consequences, the aftermath, or the debris after the dust settles. There is nothing of importance to think about except herself, Taehyung, this hotel room—her hands, reaching for his face—his lips, pressed to her own and more delicious than she could've ever dreamed. A vulgar moan drips all silky and hot from the gap between their lips, and she realizes belatedly that it's her own voice. Taehyung laughs at her enthusiasm, but it turns into a moan of his own when he reaches behind her and grips her ass in his big hands.

The kiss is sloppy and far from the movie-perfect couplings you see on screen, but it is one of the hottest things she's ever experienced, so she can't complain.

With his hands still on her ass, Taehyung lifts her up and drops her down in his lap, rocking his hips to meet her when she settles. She feels his half-hard dick through his robe, rubbing against her through her pajama pants and underwear, and even with so many layers between their bodies, the feeling of him is indescribable. Taehyung sucks her bottom lip into his mouth and grinds into her again, although he quickly becomes frustrated with the muted friction. He slides his hand up her shirt to rest on her waist and his fingernails scrape against her bare skin, coming noticeably close to her stomach. This is what snatches her back to reality. Her reality.

Nayana jerks away from his lips and puts her hand on top of his to prevent him from going any further.

He looks at her with his eyebrows furrowed and his pouty, swollen mouth turned down into a frown. He searches her troubled face for answers. Some of her braids obscure her face, and he brushes them away. "Wh—what's wrong?"

"I can't." She lets out a pained groan and climbs off his lap to lie back on the bed, her arm thrown over her face. She is still uncomfortably warm and throbbing between her legs, but she tries to ignore it.

"I'm sorry," Taehyung blurts out, trying to keep the panic from rising in his voice. The sinking feeling that he might've went too far and singlehandedly destroyed their friendship brews in his stomach. "I'm really sorry—I should've asked you first. I shouldn't have—"

"Stop, it's not your fault," Nayana interrupts, sitting back up to face him. She chews her lip and casts her eyes downward, unable to look at him directly. "I...I want to, believe me, but..." She pauses a moment, thinking of a way that this could still work. "Can we at least turn the lights off?"

"The lights?" Taehyung questions it as if he's never heard of such a thing, and his apparent obliviousness doesn't alleviate her distress. "I...wanted to see you, but if that's what you want—"

Nayana rolls her eyes. "Taehyung, I don't want you to see me and think this was all a mistake. Or run away screaming." She laughs in an attempt to make it a joke, but the sound isn't genuine. Taehyung understands.

"Are you embarrassed of your body?" His voice is gentle, but in her defensive and vulnerable state, it comes off as patronizing. She struggles to think of a reply that won't hurt his feelings, not wanting to lash out at him.

"Does it matter?"

"To me, yes. I want you to see yourself the way I've always seen you...even though I haven't exactly said it. Because I didn't want to risk things with you. But I'm saying it now; you're more beautiful than I can put into words. Your body is beautiful. There is nothing you could ever do to run me away."

Nayana makes a noise of disbelief, although it doesn't come out as harsh as she intends. "Sure, okay. But you haven't seen me without clothes."

"I'd like to. If that's okay with you." Taehyung's voice is lower than it was a second ago and the difference makes her squirm. She chances a glance at his eyes and finds the same soft, melting look from the beach. She can't remember the last time someone has looked at her like that—or if anyone ever has—and this revelation makes the backs of her eyes sting. Sighing, she rubs her face. This is not the time to get emotional.

"Dim the lights," Nayana says quietly. "Don't turn them off."

Taehyung does as she tells him to while she clears the mess of candy wrappers off the bed. Soon there is nothing left on the bed but their two bodies, the raw sexual energy from only moments ago transformed into a more subdued, humming tension. They face each other. Nayana's eyes shift to different spots of the room every few seconds. Taehyung moves closer until there's only centimeters of space between their faces, his nose brushing hers. He moves his hand to cup the side of her face before pressing his lips to hers, firm, but not rough. She parts her lips to let him inside and he accepts, licking into her mouth and sucking her tongue. The other hand that's not on her face rests on the juncture between her thigh and hip. Nayana feels awkward with her hands at her sides, so she tentatively places her hand at the nape of his neck, running her fingers through his long hair.

When he breaks the kiss, she can't stop herself from chasing after his lips, and he chuckles at this. Giving her a chaste peck, he says, "I'll give you everything you want. Just be patient." He moves to her jawline and down her neck, placing open-mouthed kisses on the places he predicts will be most sensitive. Occasionally he pauses to nuzzle into her neck, breathing in her familiar scent of vanilla. This is not Nayana's first time having sex, but her body responds so quickly to his touch that it's embarrassing. By the time he makes it to her collarbone, she is soaking wet.

Taehyung's hand stays planted on her hip, kneading the supple flesh and, every so often, curving around to squeeze her ass cheek. "Tell me what you want me to do," he whispers, pausing his attentions on her chest to look up at her. Now she is the oblivious one, looking back at him in near-shock.

"I..." Some part of her is grateful that he's letting her do the deciding here, handing the reigns over so she won't feel rushed or taken advantage of. But the other part feels lost and without direction. What does she want him to do? "T—touch...me."

"I am touching you," he answers, smirking.

Nayana resists the urge to pout and roll her eyes. Always the damn tease. "I mean...touch my...touch m—my pussy."

Taehyung's resulting smile is wide and hungry as he slides his hand between her thighs, cupping her pussy in the palm of his hand. He makes sure to tilt his hand so the heel of his palm grinds against her clit. Nayana gasps and grabs his shoulder. "Fuck, it's so warm." He bites his lip hard, his hooded eyes sliding from her pussy to her face. He continuously rocks his palm into her clit while he busies his mouth with her breasts, latching onto one brown nipple through the fabric of her T-shirt.

"Tae," Nayana moans, pushing her hips into his hand to create more friction. He switches off to the other nipple, smoothing his tongue across it before gently biting it. Her grip on his shoulder tightens and her back arches, the action pushing her breasts further into his face.

"Hmm, you like that?" Taehyung grazes his teeth over her nipple again and he can practically feel her get wetter in his palm. "You like being bitten? You like being hurt?" Nayana's response is an embarrassed whimper, but she whispers yeah. Taehyung simply grins and files that bit of information away in his mind for later.

His kisses reach her stomach. Nayana lies on her back to accommodate him so the position won't be awkward, although she starts to fidget from nerves. The urge to reach down and push his head away is overwhelming, and she balls her fists up in her shirt to keep from doing so. Even though he's steadily rubbing her, it's not enough to make her fully relax and her body tenses up. Taehyung doesn't fail to notice. "It's okay," Taehyung murmurs, gingerly kissing her soft, slightly pudgy stomach. He moves at a slow pace to avoid making her too uncomfortable, glancing up to give her reassuring looks every now and then. He takes his hand off her and she sighs with disappointment, only to let out a high-pitched moan when he circles his thumb on her clit. Her legs tremble and her body heat increases but she still has enough sense of mind to notice his other hand on the hem of her shirt, and when he asks for her permission, she answers with a shaky yes.

Taehyung pushes her shirt up until it's sitting under her breasts and doesn't try to take it any further than that for the moment. "You're so soft," he sighs contentedly, leaving kisses here and there on the expanse of her brown skin.

He dips his tongue into her belly button for a hot second before moving down to the waistline of her pants. Nayana jumps when he does it and they both end up laughing at her reaction. It's a strange sensation, one she's never experienced before, but she decides that she likes it.

When Taehyung asks if he can slide her pajamas off, she takes a deep breath and nods, to which Taehyung says, "I need words, baby" and leaves a hot kiss on her abdomen that leaves her mind fizzling.

"Take...take them off, Tae."

He does so, taking his hand away from her neglected clit for the second time that night to pull her pants off and leave them lying somewhere on the floor. He gazes at the stretchmarks spreading across her hips and thighs and curving around her ass and he smiles. "You're so pretty," he hums, running his hands over her skin. He traces some of the lines with his fingers. "A work of art. But not just any art; you are the kind of masterpiece an artist spends their whole life perfecting." He settles down between Nayana's legs so he can get closer. "I wish we'd done this sooner. I wish I'd said something sooner. I've spent too many nights wondering," he holds her thighs apart, "what it would look like to have you all wide open for me."

"Ha—ave you?" Nayana's question comes out in a staggered breath when Taehyung chooses that moment to bury his face into her clothed pussy, his nose bumping against her clit. When she realizes that he's breathing her in, she becomes so flustered that she covers her face with her hands.

"Of course," he says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "I can't count the amount of times I've laid in bed with my hand around my dick, imagining what it'd be like to have you sit on my face and cum all over my tongue." Her lavender cotton panties are so wet that her lips are visible, and Taehyung prods his tongue against her hole before coming back up to lick her clit. "Can I taste you now?"

"Please."

Taehyung hooks his fingers into the band of Nayana's underwear and takes his time pulling them down, kissing each new exposed patch of skin until his lips land on her pubic mound, just above her clit. His eyes pin her under his gaze as he wraps his lips around her clit and sucks. Nayana tugs her lower lip into her mouth, her eyebrows furrowing from the pleasure rocketing through her veins.

Taehyung makes quick work of her underwear, tossing those to the side too, before he's diving in face first. He uses his long fingers to spread her lips open and drag his tongue across her pussy from bottom to top. He takes her clit into his mouth again, circling his tongue around it and sucking it at the same time, while he carefully slides one finger halfway inside. He searches with the tip of his finger until he finds what he's looking for, and he knows he's struck gold when Nayana clenches and bucks into his mouth.

Taehyung introduces another finger and curls them both up into that spot repeatedly, keeping a steady pace. Nayana relaxes enough to release one of her hands from its clenched position on her shirt and bring it to Taehyung's head. She grasps the strands of his dark hair between her fingers and tentatively presses his face closer. Taehyung tightly grips her thigh with his free hand and moans into her pussy, the vibrations making her twitch around his long fingers.

"Fuck," he gasps out, "this is too fucking good." Taehyung gives her clit a sloppy French kiss and lets his tongue roll around the small nub until Nayana is vocalizing his name in a broken cry and threatening to tear his hair out. "Pull it harder, baby. You're not the only one who enjoys being hurt."

Nayana is close. The way Taehyung speaks to her, his voice honey and velvet, only pushes her farther toward that shining peak. "Tell...me more."

Taehyung locks eyes with her and smiles like he knows something she doesn't. He increases the speed of his fingers. "What about, babygirl?"

"About...you—when you would think about me...at night."

"Ahh." When he speaks, Taehyung's mouth doesn't part from her for too long. He's intent on pleasuring her with both his words and his tongue; between every few words, he pauses to kiss and suck her clit. "I don't know if you even remember this...but there was this time we went to a festival...and you wore this red dress. It clung to you perfectly...it drove me crazy. I was half-hard the entire time." Nayana moans at this. "When I went home that night, I couldn't stop imagining...bending you over one of those picnic tables and eating you out right there...or fucking you in my car with people outside just feet away. It would've been so easy...to just pull your dress up and slide inside." Taehyung punctuates this last sentence by pushing all the way in and rubbing Nayana's g-spot until she is screaming and covering his fingers with cum. He finds the sight of her orgasm incredibly endearing, and he laughs as he keeps fucking her with his mouth and hands until she forces him away.

Taehyung sits back as Nayana takes a moment to catch her breath. He watches her with loving eyes and a wet face—an interesting combination. When she's calmed down, she sits up and captures his lips in a kiss, tasting herself in the crevices of his mouth. Her hand settles on Taehyung's thigh, dangerously close to the tent in his robe, and he suddenly realizes how painfully hard he is.

"I wanna touch you, Tae. Can I?" Nayana asks, her lips brushing his.

"Honestly, I'd let you, but I'm so horny I think I might cum the moment your hand wraps around me. I'd rather be inside of you when that happens."

Nayana might've laughed if he weren't staring at her so intensely that it felt like layers of her very core were being stripped away. She merely watches him as he pulls the tie of his robe apart, letting the soft fabric fall open and slip off his shoulders. Taehyung's dick is exposed to the open air—flushed, drooling precum, and curving toward his stomach. It's thick, but not too long, which Nayana is grateful for, because it looks like it's going to be a tight fit without the added trouble of having her cervix stabbed. As Lucia would always say; bust the walls out, not the ceiling. Yeah, thanks, Lucia.

"Like what you see? You've been staring for quite a while." Taehyung's tone is filled with amusement, but Nayana doesn't miss the hint of uneasiness lingering in his eyes. A giggle slips past Nayana's lips as she leans forward to kiss him.

"You're perfect." Taehyung makes a noise of appreciation, and before he can deepen the kiss, Nayana is sliding off the bed and heading to her nightstand to retrieve her purse. Taehyung's eyes are glued to Nayana's body the entire time. Taehyung grips his dick, thumbing the head and spreading the precum around while he commits her curves to memory. Nayana comes back to his side seconds later with the pack of condoms Lisa "gifted" her.

"You brought condoms on this trip? Were you planning on fucking me all along?" Taehyung asks, chuckling.

"Okay, number one, these are from Lisa, and number two, you didn't bring any, so were you expecting to fuck me raw? Because that's not happening...yet."

Taehyung bites his lip at the idea of yet. He pulls one of the foil packets off the strand and rips it open. "I didn't bring any on this trip because I wasn't really anticipating sex with my closest friend, but, you know..." Taehyung rolls the condom onto his dick and gives his shaft a few satisfactory strokes before tugging Nayana into his lap. The head of his dick slides across her clit and they both gasp. Taehyung tightens his grip around her waist and positions his dick with his other hand. "Are you ready?" he whispers, pressing his lips to her neck.

"Yes."

Taehyung thrusts up at the same time Nayana lowers her hips, causing him to slide halfway in. Taehyung muffles a grunt in the side of Nayana's neck. His dick twitches when she moans, long and low, in his ear. "Are—are you okay?" he grits out through clenched teeth.

"I'm f—fine," Nayana insists. She clings to his bare back for dear life, her fingernails leaving little indents in his tan skin. The stretch is unfamiliar and it stings—she's never been spread open this far—but it's a good pain. The kind of pain that leaves you crawling back for more. She craves more of that sensation. Before he can speak again, Nayana sits her full weight on him, taking him completely inside of her body.

When Taehyung bottoms out, his eyes roll back. He can only imagine what it would be like to be inside of something this damn warm and wet without the condom on, and he has to ground himself to keep from busting at the mere thought. His breath puffs out across Nayana's neck and collarbone as he screws his eyes shut and remains still. When Nayana experimentally rocks her hips against his, Taehyung grabs her hips with shaking hands, his fingertips sinking into the soft flesh. "Wait, fuck. Not yet." He kisses and nibbles along the column of her throat in an effort to distract himself and to work her up more. A few more moments pass, and he thinks he's finally calmed down enough to move.

Taehyung pulls out until just the tip is left inside and pushes back in—not harshly, but with enough force to make their skin slap when they connect. He does this again, pulling Nayana's body toward him at the same time so that she easily slides down his full girth, and again, and again, until he creates a steady rhythm that has them both moaning into each other's mouths. Nayana, still with her shirt on, now throws the useless article of clothing away, completely baring herself to Taehyung. Taehyung's breath hitches at the sight of her bare breasts in front of him, and his hips falter for a second before he increases the pace, feverishly fucking into her.

"Tae, yes, yes, oh fuck, don't stop," Nayana's pleas get louder when Taehyung takes a nipple in his mouth and starts sucking. He slides his hand from her hip around to the space where their bodies meet, gathering her wetness on this thumb before pressing the digit against her clit and rubbing in circles. Nayana tightens around him. This action spurs him on even more. Nayana lets out a shriek of surprise when her back abruptly collides with the bed, Taehyung throwing her legs over his shoulders. Their lips meet in a messy tangle of tongues and teeth as Taehyung rolls his hips, again searching for the spot that will have her coming apart in his arms.

"Fuck, please—" Nayana's breath catches and she chokes on her words when he strikes her g-spot, making her legs tense up around his neck. Taehyung grins wildly and relentlessly pounds into that soft, sensitive spot, driving her closer to the approaching end. The room is filled with the vulgar, wet slap of skin-on-skin, a sound that Taehyung loves, a sound that motivates him to fuck her into the hotel mattress until nothing escapes her mouth but punctuated gasps.

Nayana clenches around Taehyung almost unbearably tight, and he lets out a deep moan from the feeling; it's as if she's sucking him deeper within her body. Sweat drips off his nose and chin and lands on her own sweat-slicked skin—evidence of the hard work he's putting in. The pool of warmth in the pit of his stomach rapidly spreads to the rest of his body and he knows he's not going to last much longer, but he refuses to come before her.

"You gonna come for me? Come on, baby...come all over this dick." Taehyung's thumb returns to her clit and it only takes a few more well-placed strokes before she's finished. Nayana's mouth parts in a silent scream as she comes, her body tensing like a tightly-strung bow and her walls pulsing around his thick cock. Taehyung continues rubbing her clit, prolonging the waves of pleasure ebbing through her quivering body until she squirms away from his incessant hand.

At the sight of Nayana fucked-out and spent beneath him, his thrusts begin to lose rhythm, hips clumsily smacking into hers, and soon he is pushed over the edge, burying himself balls deep as the first spurts of seed shoot into the condom. Rough, broken moans spill from his lips as he works his way through his orgasm, thrusting a little more before finally coming to a stop. Taehyung's body slumps with exhaustion, though he makes sure to keep most of his weight off her. After catching his breath, he glances at Nayana to find her already looking at him. She regards him with an amused and affectionate expression. He dips his head to kiss her, though he can't stop himself from smiling.

Taehyung pulls out, slips the condom off and ties it before going to the bathroom to dispose of it. He returns with a warm washcloth that he uses to clean Nayana and himself with. His caresses are as gentle as they were at the beginning of the night, a contrast to the way he just plowed her into the bed moments ago. Nayana's eyes start to hang low, but there is something she must do before she can even think about sleeping. When Taehyung comes out of the bathroom again, he's about to climb into bed beside her until she says,

"Taeee...can you get my bonnet for me? I can't sleep on these pillows without it. It's in my suitcase...in the first compartment."

"Mm, sure." Taehyung kisses her cheek before walking over to her suitcase (still butt-naked). Even after everything that just transpired, Nayana's stomach fills with anxiety-ridden butterflies over the kiss. She's unused to this level of intimacy with Taehyung; every action is performed with intentions that aren't simply platonic anymore, and she doesn't know how to handle this.

Taehyung comes back with her bonnet in his hand, and Nayana reaches for it, but instead Taehyung plops it on top of her head. He laughs at its lopsidedness until he sees the unamused look Nayana levels him with. The laughter fades as he bends down so they're face to face and tucks her braids into the bonnet with meticulous care. It's impossible for Nayana to keep her face neutral and she soon breaks into a shy smile, averting her eyes from Taehyung's.

Bonnet secured, Taehyung turns the lights off and nestles under the sheets with her, her back to his chest and his arms holding her in a comforting grip.

"I...really like you, you know." His voice is tender. He fumbles over the word like, wanting to say something more but still afraid.

Nayana wonders if he can hear her heart pounding.

"I like you too, Taehyung."

Nayana wakes up with the sun blazing her eyes, legs tangled in the bedsheets, and a warm body pressed against her own. A warm body...

Everything from last night floods back to her lethargic mind. Her chest grows warm and her heart beats overtime. She turns her head around to look at Taehyung, who is still blissfully asleep, his arm draped over her middle. His features are soft and relaxed, a contrast to his normal disposition. A smile spreads across her lips at the sight of him.

Nayana's phone rings from the nightstand, signaling an incoming FaceTime call. Of course, it's from Lisa. She doesn't even remember bringing her phone to his side of the room last night. Against her better judgment, she answers the call, making sure to turn the volume down so Taehyung doesn't awaken.

Lisa's big, smiling face pops up on the screen seconds later. She's in the hotel room she shares with Lucia, standing outside on the balcony. "Heeeeeeeeeeyy sis—oh my God, is that Taehyung?" Lisa's greeting is cut short when she spots Taehyung's arm in the corner of the screen.

"Uh—maybe?"

Lisa screams so loud that Nayana is sure the annoying sound can rival every seagull in the area combined. Lucia's panicked voice pops up in the background as she rushes out of the bathroom to check and make sure Lisa didn't plummet off the side of the balcony or something. "Lu, come here! Look at this shit!" Lisa yanks Lucia by the arm, pulling the dark-haired girl into the frame. She's freshly showered and wearing nothing but a towel that she struggles to hold in place as Lisa jostles her around like a ragdoll. However, her eyes also widen when she sees the cause of Lisa's hysterics.

"Nayana, girl, is that you? Who's in the bed with you? Is that Tae? HAHA!" Lucia covers her mouth and cackles like a witch. Now the both of them are cheering, screaming, and laughing as loud as they can. Nayana is sure the beach goers on the sand below must be contemplating calling hotel security.

"I TOLD you it would work!" Lisa cries out, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. "Ya girl is a GENIUS! You guys need to listen to me more often!"

"Too bad you can't be a matchmaker for yourself. How long have you been eye-spying Jungkook and you still haven't made a move?" Nayana retorts, stifling a laugh. Lucia bursts out laughing and Lisa slaps her arm.

"Don't worry about me, girl. All in due time. In the meantime, we should leave you alone with that new boooooyfriend of yours!" Lisa reminds Nayana of a silly first-grader who sings the "K-I-S-S-I-N-G" song whenever she spots another potential couple. Nayana rolls her eyes. "We'll see you later, yeah? Unless you two decide to stay holed up in the room all day. You gotta tell me all the details!"

"Girl—bye!"

The conversation ends and Nayana is immediately back to staring at Taehyung. She's too wired to go back to sleep, and right now, there's no better sight to see than this.

Nayana doesn't know how long she lies there observing him, but eventually he wakes up. She doesn't even bother with pretending like she hasn't been watching him sleep. He blinks his eyes cutely and yawns, smacking his lips. They make eye contact and they both laugh.

"I could get used to waking up to this," Taehyung says quietly, voice husky. He cups her cheek in his palm and smiles. He shifts closer but yelps when something suddenly pokes him in the side.

"What is it!?

Taehyung reaches under the covers, searching for the object. When he finds it, he holds it up for Nayana to see. It's the pack of condoms, four still left over from last night. He raises his eyebrows and smirks.

"Wanna use the rest of these?"

Lights, Camera, Act Right (CH 1)

Most men in Hanzo's line of work lived glamorously if not gaudy lives adorned with drugs, jewels, cars, and their personal preference of company to keep the lonely nights at bay. While it was undeniable that they might've had a passion for their art - he couldn't find it in himself to respect someone who blatantly threw their wealth around as if it contributed even an inch to their acting ability. Which led him to the predicament that he was in now. Staring into the eyes of a harpy who'd yelled herself hoarse and red-faced after he made it explicitly clear that no matter how much of a tantrum she threw or how many zeros she put in her offer, he would not be her eye candy to the premiere that evening. It wasn't her fault really, she was a lovely woman before all of the screaming and ranting, and Hanzo figured any man would've been happy to be on her arm. However, he wasn't just any man and he certainly wasn't interested in someone who wanted to pay for his company. The very thought sent shivers down his spine. After all, he made enough money from the use of his likeness and the movies that he'd starred in along with the TV show cameos and other media outlets. And with the way the paparazzi were flashing their cameras, he could only assume that this would be another "cash cow" so to speak but also a headache for another time. His phone vibrated in his pocket, dragging his attention away from the fuming woman whose agent had scurried over to try and help her save face by calming her down. The man's pleas fell on deaf ears as Hanzo took the call, plugging one of his ears with a knuckle to better hear the person on the other line. "Hoho, you are in trouble, anija!" Genji said in a sing-song voice, the smug satisfaction practically dripping from his words. "The news spread that quickly?" Hanzo asked, turning on his heel and ignoring the irate cry of 'Get back here!' as he left the lobby area of the hotel, making a beeline for the elevator. "Yup," Genji replied, popping the 'p' in the way that Hanzo knew the situation was steadily going from bad to worse. "Says that you told her off and she was going to give you a piece of her mind." Hanzo sighed, thankful that he was alone in the elevator. The commotion from outside paired with security hindered most of the traffic flow into the building allowing him to slip away unnoticed for the time being. With his own security guarding the entrance, a lack of people flooding the halls and the elevators, Genji’s voice was all he had to listen to.

Though that meant his plans for going out to get food were shot even if he was wearing a disguise. "She offered to give me a small fortune, Genji." "Oooh, wrong move," Genji tutted. "You know you're priceless, anija." Hanzo rolled his eyes. While his fame and wealth had brought him a considerable amount of prestige, little brothers would always be little brothers. The elevator’s chime alerted him to reaching the uppermost level and he stepped off with a cursory glance down either side of the hall. Fishing his key card from his pocket, he headed to his room, listening to Genji chatter on about his day and the progress he’d made with editing and posting up his videos.

“Comments on YouTube are the funniest thing in the world, brother, I’m telling you,” Genji cackled, the clacking of keys carrying over the phone’s receiver.

Hanzo unlocked his room door and slipped inside, pulling off his shoes while balancing his phone between his shoulder and ear. “When they aren’t fighting against each other for ‘first’ or insulting one another’s mother?”

Stumbling forward after getting them off, he set them neatly by the door and made way for his bed, undoing his top knot as he went.

“Well, at least it’s a lot easier to get comments on YouTube than it is on fanfiction,” Genji answered, Hanzo’s sharp gasp eliciting raucous laughter, loud enough that he had to move the phone away from his ear.

If looks could kill, his phone would’ve been dead ten times over as he glared at the receiver as if it offended his entire family just by existing to relay such a horrendous message. “You swore to never mention that again,” he hissed, sitting down and slowly bringing it back to his ear. “Youswore Genji.”

“Yeah, well, all is fair in love and validation,” Genji said, not sounding sorry in the slightest.

Hanzo huffed and laid back on the duvet with a heavy thump, bouncing slightly as the mattress shifted beneath his weight. One hand combing through his hair while the other settled the phone between his shoulder and head again, he set to taking off his watch and wrist bracelet, pausing when he caught sight of the time. Genji’s laughter and chatter faded away as Hanzo sat up abruptly, knocking the phone across the bed. His head on a swivel towards the digital clock on his bedside table, 5:45 PM flashing at him in bright white letters.

Keeping his gaze on the clock, he slowly lifted up the phone to his ear and caught the tailwind of another of Genji’s stories about opening fan letters. There wasn’t any sound beyond his little brother’s ranting — as if he was home alone. Hanzo’s eyes narrowed.

“Genji,” Hanzo interrupted, voice eerily calm and quiet. “What time is it for you?”

“Uh.. about two forty-five, wh—” Genji paused mid sentence and Hanzo felt the other shoe drop when a muffled noise and sharp cry of ‘fuck’ came through on the other side.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Hanzo groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, feeling another raging headache coming on. “Genji, tell me you remembered to pick up the boys from school,” he pleaded, hoping that his little brother was just in his work room rather than home alone at 2:45 in the afternoon… on a school day.

“What was that…?” Genji asked, muffled crackling noises coming through and Hanzo held the phone a little ways from his ear, glaring at it with disdain. “Sorry Hanzo, I wasn’t.. Oh no, the connection is breaking… I…”

There was absolutely no way the connection could be breaking. Genji prided himself on his data and uploading speed, if even one of his videos or calls lagged, he would throw a fit. And Hanzo would never hear the end of it. Eyebrow twitching, Hanzo breathed in deeply and counted backwards from ten before exhaling.

“Genji, I swear to you,” he began, praying to the heavens for patience.

“Relax, brother,” Genji chided, although he sounded slightly out of breath, from running to the car if Hanzo’s guess was right. “I’m only… fifteen minutes late.”

Hanzo pursed his lips, sucking his teeth as a thought came to mind. “Do you remember that ‘Worlds Best Uncle’ mug I got for you?”

“Use it everyday,” Genji chirped.

Hanzo smiled thinly, whispering ominously. “I’m breaking it into pieces.”

“No, brother please, anything but the mug!”

“Then your face,” Hanzo said dryly, scowling at the wall. “I’m breaking your face.”

Genji sighed. “Well, the mug was nice while it lasted.”

It was moments like this that Hanzo wished he’d gotten the dog that he asked for instead of the screaming pink-faced raisin that was Genji Shimada. Alas, thirty-five years later, he was still stuck with him for better or worse. Right now though, it was worse.

“ Genji .”

“My face is what makes me money, brother!” Genji shouted, the sound of a car door unlocking making Hanzo roll his eyes. “And you know what they say about your money maker.”

“If you don’t pick up your nephews in the next ten minutes, your older brother will smash it?”

A beat of silence passed between them, only the sounds of Genji clicking his seatbelt to Hanzo’s relief filling the void before his brother spoke again with a deadpan tone. “....That was terribly literal.”

“The clock is ticking, Genji,” Hano replied, making a ‘tick tock’ noise, biting back laughter at Genji’s exaggerated groan.

“Okay, okay. I’ll call you back when I get them, Dadzo .”

Seizing up at the nickname, Hanzo shouted indiginantly,  “Gen—” before three soft beeps punctuated the end of the call leaving him alone in his hotel room staring at the obnoxious display picture of his brother when he’d dyed his hair an eye-gouging shade of green. Sliding through his apps, Hanzo opened up one of his photo albums and shuffled backwards onto the bed until his back pressed against the headboard, thumbing through the photos until he found one of two boys smiling at the camera and waving.

The caption beneath it reading ‘Shingen and Hayao stole your phone - Genji’. Hanzo snorted, shaking his head as he switched from the photo album to his voice mails, scrolling through to one of the most recent saved ones. Pressing it, he waited for it to start playing, smiling as two young voices laughing and yelling filled the background with Genji’s trying to talk over them.

“Hanzo! Answer your phone! Ugh, hey guys, could you come here real fast?”

Dogs barking and loud footsteps followed, the noise muffled on the other end, Genji’s voice further away and hard to make out.

“On the count of three… real loud… home early…”

Hanzo knew what was coming and held his phone further from his ear when two loud voices yelled, “Dad, we miss you!”, at the same time. It nearly blew his eardrum the first time he listened in — afraid that something might’ve happened. Only to find that it was one of his brother’s pranks but also a heartfelt message. Genji’s laughter coming through as he said, “Come home soon, brother! And call me back, you do know how a phone works right?”

Hanzo rolled his eyes heavenward but his smile fell. The room seemed… so much bigger in the absence of voices or other persons. It was strange.

“Maybe I have been away from home too long,” he muttered, rewinding the message and laying his phone beside him, letting it play out again.

His eyes fluttered shut and he breathed in deeply. Perhaps if he just imagined it, it would feel like he was at home.

Beautiful Demise

Chapter 1: “White Roses”

➝ Genre: Fic

➝ Pairing: Park Jimin | Reader (Potentially Others as the Story Progresses)

{Assassin!AU} {Dom!Jimin} {Sub!Reader} {Alcohol Consumption} {Kissing} {Neck Kissing} {Interrupted Sex} {Blood} {Death} {Hospitilization of Relative} 

WARNING: This AU is explicit, contains dark themes, violence, and language some readers may find unsettling, please take caution when reading.

➝ Word Count: 8080

➝ Summary: Beautiful white roses are, aren’t they? So pure, deprived of color. And yet, some would find them even more breathtaking drenched in red. Crimson red, the most beautiful of all concealed within those harboring a beating heart. All the more eye-catching when spilled in an amorphous puddle though, but they’re trained not to leave a mess.

Park Jimin, an assassin built purely on stealth alone, is finding every way possible to sneak up on and steal your heart from under you.

Next | (Ch. 2)

Snip

Snip Snip

“They sure have come in beautifully this year.” A soft voice calls from the door, the familiar chime of the old copper bell hanging above urging you to turn.

Your mouth curls into an equally gentle smile, “It’s hard to disagree, the petals are even softer than last years.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it, with your delicate hands tending to them.” The woman responds, she visits often, being a regular customer and supporter of your small but well-known flower boutique.

“Oh please, Mrs. Herondale. The flowers make their own beauty, I merely water them.” You tuck away your scissors, giving them a quick pat once settled into your pocket. “Would you like a bouquet? They’re sure to fly off the shelves, I recommend you buy them now instead of later…” You twiddle your fingers, hoping to make a sale, “That’s only if you came in here for that…”

“Silly girl, One does usually enter a flower shop in the search of flowers.” Her bright eyes and cherub cheeks supply a sense of bliss, similar to the feeling arranging bouquets gives you. It’s as if she belonged surrounded by beautiful things. “I’ll take an arrangement please, white roses and lilacs if you don’t mind.”

“Buying for someone? That’s a wonderful arrangement you’ve decided on... I’m sure they’ll be beyond grateful.” You let a pair of gloves cover your scraped and cut up hands, who knew something so beautiful could also prove ruthless and sharp.

The woman sighs, her short stature appearing even shorter as she leans against the large windowsill to smell some of the flowers on display. “I’m sure she would’ve loved them.”

A chill rides the length of your spine, shit, “I’m sorry?” The soft mirth filled tone in her voice has been replaced by a much harder dry sound, one you almost don’t recognize.

“My sister, you see, loved white roses and lilacs. When she passed I knew no place better to get them from than here.” No tears leave her eyes, but judging by the expression on her face, the salty droplets could cascade her cheeks with one quick blink.

A moment of silence floods the airy room, a dreary silence that has no business in a flower boutique. “I’ll tend to them with extra care then.” She nods a thank you, blinking slowly at your words of comfort. Even if you were speechless at the mention of the reason for the flowers. Sadly, exchanges like this one were often routine. Families and friends of the passed on ordered extravagant arrangements frequently. Even so, the number of happy events where flowers were needed was much higher. Weddings were beautiful, but death was equally breathtaking.

“Your grandmother is a lucky woman,” She says, “To have her beautiful granddaughter taking such good care of the shop.”

You blush, not many people call you beautiful on a daily basis, “It’s no walk in the park, but Nana deserves the world, with her being so sick...I can’t help but want to take away some of the burden she bore for so long. Tending to the shop is the least I could do.” A weak smile tugs at the corners of your lips, chapped and in desperate need of lip balm. You really were peeling at the seams.

“Well with your father missing…” She stops herself. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to speak so openly about such a tender subject…” You continue arranging the flowers, trying with all your might not to yell and explain how your father was a lying asshole that left you and your feeble grandmother in a time of need...surely he did leave you. Right? “Bless you girl...for being so strong.” She places a comforting hand on your shoulder, it’s been so long since motherly affection graced you so effortlessly.

You gulp, handing her the bouquet, “Have a wonderful day, enjoy the flowers...and my condolences.” The bouquet she paid for and now held was without a doubt one of the prettiest you’d ever made. The purple lilacs gave that most intoxicating pop of color every gloomy setting needed, for intricacy, you added some forest green grape leaves amongst petals of the arrangement; but by far, the most beautiful accent had to be the white roses. Serene, pure, and full of a mystery that for years no one could solve. To speak of white roses cruelly was a curse in itself.

God, you loved white roses.

“Goodbye dear.”

“Goodbye Mrs. Herondale…”

[15:14] Tessa Hey girl! Thinking about going out tonight! You’re coming so don’t even try to wiggle out of it!

Ugh.

[15:16] Hey! Can we reschedule? I have a new shipment to unload, some help from my bestest best friend in the world would be greatly appreciated…

Please, please, take the bait...

[15:17] Tessa Well those peonies will have the wait! We’re going out, no questions asked!

You sigh, knowing that fighting her on something so trivial and fun to most would prove exhausting, not to mention you’d lose and end up right back here, with evening plans and a dozen thorn cuts.

[15:19] I was tending to daffodils...but fine.

The drawer used for storing scissors and gloves glides effortlessly open when you pull at it, carefully placing down your dirty - in need of a beating - garden gloves next to your grandmother's pristine pair. You eye the little white roses on them, their original angelic white replaced with an eggshell sort from all the gardening she used to do...You lift the glove, leaving the opposite to remain amongst the others. You crumple the tough material in the palm of your hand, holding it up to your nose as you start to sob.

It smells of her, mint, fresh mulch, and of course, the faint lingering smell of daisies and hydrangea...all scents she wore well. You’ve counted the days in which they’ve sat in that ugly top drawer, not consciously knowing that their wearer would never again put on gardening gloves…

Ding.

You wipe your eyes.

[15:22] Tessa My bad your highness, and good! We’re gonna have a blast. I’ll see you later ;)

Sure…

Pounding bass echoed from inside the one club in this city Tessa had yet to step into. Tessa is quite the unruly party animal. Countless times have you had to drag her away from guys leaning towards taking advantage of her outrageous acts of gyrating her hips to every song that blasts through the speakers. She read amazing reviews apparently, at least that’s what she told you. “According to the reviews on this place, the guys here are always stupid hot.” She chimes, grabbing your wrist and running her thumb back and forth ferociously over the top of your palm. Not that any of what she had said really pertained to you as much more than a passing comment.

“______? You in there?” She asks, her gorgeous blonde curls bouncing just as her breasts do when she continuously jumps up and down on the balls of her feet with excitement.

You nod, looking through her rather than at the bold eyeshadow she wears with gold flecks gracing her lids. “Maybe we should go, we’ve been standing here forever, they’re probably full…” You suddenly say, turning on your heel and moving past one gaggle or overly giddy french whores that we’re in no way getting into this establishment. Tessa knows full well that the club scene wasn’t yours, hers perhaps but definitely the opposite of what you’d prefer to be doing. Sitting home with a gallon of ice cream and a cringy romantic love story that ends with the guy getting the girl and living happily ever after, something that rarely happens in regular human society.

“Woah woah woah!” Tessa drags you back, grabbing you at the waist and shuffling you backward into the same crowded space you took a step away from. “Where do you think you’re going huh? C’mon, there’s only a few people ahead of us.” Her hands fall from your hips, the booming bass making your head pound, even from out on the bustling street. “You look way too hot to turn your back on this outing. It would be a waste of an outfit.” She smiles, her blushed cheeks bunching beautifully.

“Ladies?” A broad, deep-voiced man asks in a tone more chilling than stone. When you look away from Tessa she realizes the small crowd ahead of you had been admitted to the club and it was your turn for entry. “Step up and show some ID, I’d hate to turn two lovely ladies like yourselves away.”

“Oh stop it you big lug!” Tipsy Tessa, the flirtatious beast has come out to play, and you aren’t even inside yet. Those few tequila shots she had really got her going, you were more of a wine and champagne kinda gal yourself, but you weren’t opposed to something as intense as tequila.

The bouncer smiles, a straight line of a smile that just barely curves up at the corners. “ID, please.” He answers to Tessa’s flirtation, holding out his large palm. You hand him yours immediately, prepared ahead of time and ready to come out of the tiny rat purse known as a clutch. Tessa...on the other hand...put the card in her bra. Of course. She reaches down the front of her short cocktail dress and pulls out her driver’s license. The bouncer remains stoic, even so you feel as if you might puke with embarrassment for your best friend. “Looks good ladies.” He hands back the cards, one warm with body heat, the other cold as plastic should be. “Enjoy.” Pulling back the dipping navy blue velvet entrance rope, he grants the two of you entry.

A sharply dressed man, close to but not equally as broad as the bouncer outside opens one of the two large main doors, flooding the busy streets with the sounds of a heavy crescendo, booming music that forces your heart to pound against your rib cage. He winks as you pass, your heart making a beeline for your throat. “Damn look at all those fresh pieces of ass!” Tessa practically screams when the main room, where dozens of sweaty people are gathered, comes into view.

“Tess! Don’t just scream stuff like that!” You yell into her ear. She waves you off.

“Who cares?! No one was gonna hear it anyway!” She skips off towards the bar, leaving you to sluggishly trail behind like a lost puppy.

“I did…” You mumble.

Tessa perches herself on one of the many bar stools, puffing her chest out at the attractive barkeep. “Two cosmopolitans love…” She coos, earning a ‘You got it’ from the dark dressed man. She taps her nails against the hardwood of the bar, swaying with the bass. She looks to you, taking in your odd behavior. “What is up with you?” Her eyes, unlike her voice, are soft, caring and, full of an undeniable curiosity. “You haven’t talked much all night.”

“The night just started.” You answer quickly, staring at the brightly lit wall of various types and kinds of liquor encased in illuminated glass bottles diverse in color.

Tessa grins, spinning to face the dance floor, legs crossed. “Bingo.” She pokes your arm. “God I love this song!” She suddenly bursts, throwing her hands up and leaping off her stool in recognition to the familiar beat. Thankfully, it remains standing, you worried her exuberant behavior would force the stool to the ground, that's when you notice the screws pinning it to the concrete.

“Tess!” You yell after her, “The drinks! Dammit.” She’s out of earshot, or more like her ears will be bleeding in a matter of seconds, blocking any sound from protruding. So much for attempting to put your lungs to good use.

The bartender soon returns, two brilliantly made cosmopolitan’s in hand. With the arrival of drinks comes your groveling best friend, her hair less put together than it was when you arrived and a number of thirsty eyes following her. “Woo!” She shouts, picking up her cocktail and throwing back at least half of it. “Did you see me out there?” You can’t help but smile at the utter joy written on her face.

“How could I not? You practically dominated the dance floor. All eyes were on you.” You sip the cosmo, smiling as you swallow, but internally cringing at the overpowering sour taste gliding the plain of your taste buds, surely burning them as it goes. Tessa’s long silence has you growing nervous, never ever, especially with alcohol flowing through her system, is Tessa quiet.

“Not all eyes.” She gestures to the far end of the bar with a tip of her chin. You follow her gaze, looking at the various bar-goers. She must be talking about a man sitting at the bend in the bar, no young man. His hair is dark, nearly black, with orange highlights along the ends. He nurses a brown liquor from a short glass, his eyes are hard, but not frightening. Even when his cover is blown, the sharply dressed man refuses to look away, his blade like gaze entranced by something about you. “Go talk to him.” Tessa orders, giving you an encouraging push forward.

You whip your head around to face her, fast enough to hurt your neck and to make your eyesight go white for a second. “What? Are you crazy?!”

She rolls her eyes, “If you don’t I will, and I think we both know that’s not what he wants.” She winks, “Now gulp that liquid courage and grow a pair!” You shake your head no, looking from her to your drink, only to land your eyes on the ethereal stranger at the curve in the bar.

Wow.

Without looking back at Tessa you swallow your pride and the cosmo for good measure. You slide off the barstool and begin to close the distance between you and the eye candy. “That’s my girl!” You hear Tessa yell before she swallows her own liquid courage and heads for the dance floor, definitely keeping you within watching distance.

“This seat taken?” You ask, caressing the barstool as if it were a prized jewel. Your hand shaking nervously due to the way his copper brown eyes meet yours, the softness they portray reminding you of the delicacy flower petals withhold.

“Not at all, although, you won’t be sitting long.” His words baffle you, a gentle smirk riding the thick mass of his lips. “I was about to ask you for a dance.” He explains, rising off his barstool. He snaps his fingers, the barkeep rushing to his beck and call. He points to the glass he left in his wake, barely drank from, practically untouched. “Shall we?”

“You didn’t want that?” You fold your arms over your torso, pushing up the swell of each breast all to attract his eyes, something Tessa taught you to do, but the motion doesn’t suit you and you fear he’ll pick up on that. Besides the slight cocking of an eyebrow, he remains unphased, not even giving those parts of you a second glance.

“I don’t think i’ll need it, you’re pretty enough without the influence of alcohol.” He takes your hand, gently encasing your fingers in his palm. “Besides, it hadn’t been that fine a year, barely worth my time.”

“Unlike me?” He hesitates, turning to face you once he reaches the lit dance floor.

“Yes, unlike you.” The mysterious young man smiles, a genuine smile that has his eyes crinkling and straightening out in delight. Something about him is frightening, intimidating, and confident. Despite all those factors, he gives you an adrenaline rush. Not knowing his name nor anything about him other than his high-end pallet and infatuation with only the finest years of alcohol fueling that fire underneath you.

He continues to hold your hand, pulling you close enough where your chest hits his. “Who did I see you with?” He asks, gesturing back to the bar where he had first seen you. His one hand resting on the curve of your side just above your hip.

You look up, into his eyes trying to drown out the loud bumping music that for some reason the two of you sway to slowly. “Tessa?”

“Tall? Blonde? Looked like she had a bit too much of this places cheap liquor?” You giggle, the sound drowned out by the crowds' screams and cheers.

“That would be her…” You loll your head with amusement, hanging it low before lifting it to face him again when you inhale. “She’s my best friend.” You see him ‘ah’ in response, not hearing the sound of realization that was sure to pour from his gaping mouth. “She dragged me here tonight, thought I needed some time away from the stressful life I live.”

“Well, I’m sure glad she did. It seems I happen to be in town at the perfect time.” His fingers twitch against your side, sending chills fleeing from the area. You blush, averting your eyes to prevent it from becoming readable.

“You said you enjoy fine tastes, and that you’re only visiting town.”

“Did I?” He answers cockily.

“I assumed, based on your earlier words.” One of your hands moves closer to his neck, the longer dark strands of hair brushing your still coarse and rough fingertips.

He exhales an amused breath. “You assumed correctly-” A rather rude shove from the tipsy crowd moves the two of you, your dance partner takes the brunt of the brute force, steadying himself while gripping you tightly at the waist. You hadn’t realized your eyes had closed to prevent a contuse from forming after being hit; upon reopening you spot a woman, perhaps your age although her worn face and tough features hint she may be older. She grips the material of your company’s opulent suit jacket tightly, her eyes fixed firmly on his face. She’s clearly drunk without reason and appears to be alone, unless her own group of inebriated friends is gathered around here somewhere.

“Why you’re rather handsome...where are you staying tonight? I’d love to go back there with the likes of you on my arm.” She giggles, tugging him toward her.

He releases your hip, shifting you behind him as he turns to face the woman making moves on him. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m staying with my grandparents. I doubt they’d appreciate the unwanted company.” You bite your lip to keep from laughing, to see him dismiss her so smoothly and without a second thought is astonishing...and hot. The girl mumbles something under her breath as she walks away, eyeing you up and down all while stumbling off to meet the unappreciative gaze of the barkeep, one you’re sure to remember later. “Let’s go outside, I’d rather that not happen again.”

You snicker, “Are you really staying with your grandparents?” He guides you by the waist through the rowdy crowd, his fingers whispering against the tight back of your one nightly clubbing dress. You spot Tessa who dances in tune to the beat, her hair no longer pinned half back; all her gorgeous ringlets free to unravel themselves at will, coming from the coil that holds them in a death grip to fall gracefully around her sweat-drenched neck. You take note of her positioning in the club and catch her eye. She slows her movements to smile, dropping her jaw to mouth a ‘damn’ that you roll your eyes at. She returns to ogling at the DJ and you to the conversation started with your mystery man.

“God no, I’m here on business,” He starts, “Once I complete the few things that need my attention here…” He pauses, gulping,  “I’ll be heading home.” You lick your lips as a means to capture his attention, stretching your neck to one side and rubbing the exposed skin he can see. Upon looking back at his bright pearlesque smile and seeing it melt as he spots what you’re playing at, you see the tip of his tongue snake over the corner of his mouth, poking and prodding before moistening his lips with ferocity. You can’t help but stare, his features depict a completely new and welcomed feeling inside you, a feeling you’ve never experienced. One that even now, as you register it coursing through you, you can’t figure out. Similar to the mystery behind white roses and their beauty.

He looks away when cool air breezes past from the door leading to a back patio just briefly seen when a stumbling man opens it and walks through, turning away from you to occupy the space of another hallway. The man scoffs, grumbling to himself before trying to evacuate the phlegm that’s gathered in the back of his throat. The carob eyed young man whose continued to treat you as a gentleman should, holds the door open for you, ignoring the unpleasant greeting from the man who walked through the door previously; following with generously sized strides after you. You stop, taking in the new aura surrounding this open space. Wicker seating surrounds a lit fire pit, and a table with chairs graces the outer area that must be used for parties and summer entertainment. A greeting nod comes from a separate barkeep that polishes the inside of a glass with a delicate hand wrapped in a cream-colored cloth, one damp with moisture surely from the bars granite top.

You turn on your heel.

“You still have yet to tell me your name,” You grin, straightening the open collar of his dress shirt tucked politely into his black denim jeans.

He sets his jaw, a smirk snaring the breathtaking pair of lips he teases you with. “I can say the same for you.” His amusement grows when he gestures to the bartender, his attention squeezed tightly by the unsettling confidence your acquaintance bears. “Two glasses of Dom Perignon 2009, if you have it.” He turns back to you, his hands linking behind his waist.

“We only sell that by the bottle sir.” The barkeep announces, his straight face knowingly distressed when he absorbs the intoxicating aura your generous associate exudes, a class you can only hope and pray to one day give off. One that quickly dragged you in by the throat down into this pit of ardent stoicism.

Your company scoffs, running a hand through his dark brown and orange dusted locks. It pains you to sit next to something, no, someone, so beautiful.

Like white roses.

“A bottle then.” He retorts, sending you aghast with a raise of your eyebrows.

“You’re kidding,” You blurt belatedly, “That’s going to cost you a pretty penny.” Champagne, and the finest of breeds. It’s not whose ordered it that shocks you, it’s that he’s willing to drop so much on a girl he’s just met. You know you’re bottom of the barrel, scraped off the floor of the full vat, one filled with plenty of unsuspecting and much prettier girls.

Who is this man?

He guides you to the bar, waiting for you to sit before he does. Even when still, his body grasps firmly to a grace and unearthly elegance. “You know your alcohol.” He smiles, pivoting to face you; his one arm resting on the granite bartop with his fingers loosely folded into a fist.

“Yes,” You nod, “What I don’t know, is your name.” He moves his eyes back and forth between yours, an almost nefarious air to him now.

“Jimin,” He bequeaths, “Park Jimin.” The bartender returns with an elegant bottle of sparkling Dom Perignon, peeling back the black encasement and untwisting the wire preventing the cork from flying free. Once unwound, he removes the cork delicately. You yelp, expecting a loud pop that ceases to come. They chuckle, “We’ll manage.” Jimin says, reaching for the bottle from the bartender who nods his head approvingly before leaving the two of you alone.

“Park Jimin.” You repeat. He flinches at the sound of his name, clearly admiring the way you speak it. “Foreign?” You ask, suddenly feeling the weight your heart takes on at the thought of never again seeing the man ahead of you all thanks to distance.

He nods, “I was born in Busan, South Korea.” You clench your jaw, “But my close friends and I moved just a few hours away all to expand our working range.”

You sigh, relief flooding you from head to toe. He pours you a glass all while smiling at the way you melt into your seat when he reveals that he doesn’t live in a foreign country any longer. “They’re more like my brothers actually.” You bat your eyelashes when the cool temperature of the tall glass glazes over the tips of your fingers. He holds it up, “To your health, happiness, and beauty.” You blush scarlet, your eyes twinkling just as the stars trapped within the champagne do.

Clink.

The sound echoes, finding the crackling of the firepit, dancing hand and hand across the solid brick wall of the building still bumping with life. Of course, the distant murmur of city bustling and alcohol-induced giggles leak through into your ears. “So,” You swallow, “Is this expensive bottle of Dom Perignon your way of saying you want to be my sugar daddy now?” You joke, the words jet-propelled from your lips, the usual filter at the back of your throat now disintegrated by his dashing good looks and smooth gulps of champagne. Jimin nearly chokes on his mouthful, pausing the swirling of his glass with a sudden lock of his wrist.

“No,” He swallows, hitting his chest gently to get the rest of the bubbles down. “Although you are a great candidate.” He smiles, setting down his champagne, “Perhaps I just enjoy splurging on beautiful woman.”

You roll your eyes, “And how often does that happen?”

A long silent beat.

“Rarely.” He finally relinquishes, his voice so impossibly full and yet so dry.

You bite your lip.

The movement of your mouth causes Jimin to look down, eyeing your lips like a stalking house cat, no, a tiger prowling the open fields towards its unsuspecting prey. With a force only known to those desperate souls roaming the Earth, Jimin leans forward and kisses you. Despite the intensity behind the impact, the kiss itself is impeccably soft, the swell of his lips moving in perfect harmony to your own. The empty courtyard seems even emptier when the viciously precise man stands, never separating your lips as his hands lift you off the barstool to instead fastidiously place you against the cool bar top.

“J-Jimin…” You stutter, spreading your legs around him and pulling his hips closer. His breath hitches as the sound of his name pours from your lipstick smudged mouth, the length of your neck now peppered with kisses broken only by the steady desperate breaths leaving Jimin’s lungs in the form of low, Earth rumbling moans. He grabs at your dress ardently, belatedly skidding the tips of his fingers across the smooth interior of your thighs, which contrary to yours are soft, well cared for, and not covered in thick calluses formed by years of tending to flower beds instead of your nail beds. His short nails provide indelible pleasure by laying out the playing field and sending fleet upon fleet of chills burning themselves into your skin.

He doesn't stop to comment in tune, just stealing your mouth back and away from the deep breath of air you were taking, halted completely when his soft pillow-like lips crash onto yours. His fingers progress closer and closer to the spot you swear you can already feel him. It isn’t until they make contact underneath the hastily forgotten dress you wear, that you gasp, filling your lungs with cold, smog-filled city air.

“Is this alright?” He asks, considerate of your feelings and oh so aware of the intimate place his fingers brush with care.

You nod vigorously.

“Say it,” He pants, the pure details of his features now hard and lust pumped. “Say what I want to hear.” He whispers, the sound so low that the muffled music almost prevents you from hearing it all together.

You gulp, moistening your dry throat. “Jimin, touch me more...p-please.” You implore, feeling powerful and brave with adrenaline pumping through your veins. “I-” You choke, throwing your head back in delight when Jimin’s fingers brush you harder, this time pressing and running back and forth. You still squirm from the lack of skin to skin contact, his pleasure providing fingertips denied your warmth thanks to your pastel pink - definitely not meant for a hookup - panties. Nothing seems to be phasing Jimin though.

With the faint lingering scent of champagne on the tip of your tongues, and the overwhelming fear of being discovered, you say the words lingering restlessly at the back of your throat, the space where your usual filter resides. “I want your fingers Jimin,” He slows his movements, breathing heavily when he hears your pleading. “In-inside me.” Your hands grab at his clothed shoulders, pulling and leaving marks with your nails in the back of his neck from the force.

He hisses with pleasure, pulling the core of your panties towards him with the intent of moving them aside, however, as all good things do...your lust induced libido shuts down completely when a ringing replaces the echoing pants and moans coming from the two of you. Jimin looks up slowly, sighing with frustration and shaking his head while wearing a weak smile of amusement that you return. “Now there’s a first.” You chuckle, earning a sympathetic glance from Jimin.

In one swift movement, Jimin’s pressing his smartphone to the blushed red curve of his ear. He clears his throat, no doubt removing the lingering arousal present in his prior words, “Hello?” He asks, his voice oddly stern and timid compared to the soft lilt it captured so well during previous conversation between you. His fingers now moving back and forth over your knee. Ignored, and hot enough to boil a sitting pot, you take his hand in yours and impatiently peel yourself from the bartop, taking one last sip from your champagne glass before moving close enough to Jimin and weaving your arm through his, hugging closely to the well-carved muscles hidden underneath. “Yes, I know.” He says dryly, “Wait, now?” His eyes shift to look away from the wall of ivy and instead at you, your glimmering eyes glazed over with unfulfilled pleasure and alcoholic haze. The person on the other end must have questioned Jimins silence because he answers with, “Yeah, I’m here.” He looks away again, a sense of worry and a flash of anger cascade his immaculate features that glimmer in the moonlight.

Silence creeps over the already eerie setting, Jimins eyes slim with frustration all while his jaw clenches and delivers a sense of fear within you. His intimidating aura has had you apprehensive all night, not that you can say it was for long given the way his hands roved and explored you just mere minutes prior to the interrupting phone call. “I’ll leave now, there is no need to get angry Jay. He won’t find out.”

Jay?

He hangs up the phone before this Jay can insert another word of scolding. He sighs, his face heavy with regret, no doubt your doing. “Don’t feel like you owe me anything.” You suddenly say, blurring the words into a sentence slowly without looking him in the eye. Jimins head whips around to find you, his eyes landing on your leg-crossed form as you relax onto the barstool again. “Go, I think both you and I know you wanted nothing more than to have your way with me.” You swallow the rest of the expensive brew gracing your cup, standing afterward only to walk up to Jimin and pull him down by the tie. “Thanks for the champagne.” You kiss his cheek, leaving him baffled as you start to walk past him, opening the door to the club.

“Wait!” He yells, spinning to face you. “Your name. I don’t know your name.” He looks beaten, completely shot down and twisting one of the many rings on his fingers.

“______.” You smile, your first name manifesting into a coherent sound, feeling just as weak and defeated as he does. “________ ________.” Jimin opens his mouth to say something in return, probably a compliment that would make you even weaker in the knees, an attack so precise and perfunctory that you doubt he’d even realize its effect on you. The actual words themselves, however, are never heard when you enter the swallowing melody swirling through the club and shut the door behind you.

You lean against the solid door when it clicks shut, the loud bumping bass pounding at your heart and joints, making you want to retreat back into the arms of the beyond gorgeous man you now know as Park Jimin. His beautiful eyes, his full lips, his fingers that glided effortlessly between your legs, as if they had been there before a million times.

Maybe just one peek…

You push the door handle down, expecting to find Jimin on the other side still shocked and possibly looking longingly towards where you walked off. To your dismay, an empty courtyard greets you on the other side of the large dark wood door. Cool air filters into the hot building, blowing back the tresses of hair loosely hanging around your neck. The Dom Perignon is recorked, placed next to your glasses, one empty, the other still half full.

Where could he have gone…?

There was no other exit from the protected patio area, a door to the kitchen perhaps, but if you are, then Jimin is most definitely smart enough to know going through there would be disruptive and challenging. He would have had to go through you, and yet, he hadn’t.

Two hands clapping onto your shoulders jolts you away from the sense of lacking and sadness threatening to arise tears in your eyes. “So when’s the wedding?” Tessa asks, her features blushed pink from her over-consumption of the dishwasher detergent this place serves.

That’s what Jimin would say.

“Marked on my calendar as the day after he doesn’t get a mysterious phone call and ditches me.” You take her by the arm, walking into the ladies room, a small intimate setting bathed in a much brighter light compared to the dark seductive aroma that surrounds the dance floor and bar. A feeling you’ve just exuded to a man you just met and enjoyed the company of.

“You mean...he just...left?” Tessa asks walking up to the mirror and painting on another layer of lipstick.

You nod.

“It couldn't have been that he didn’t like you,” She taps her finger to her chin repeatedly, looking at you, suddenly seeing your smudged lipstick and how you’re desperately trying to subdue its color from overtaking your face. “It definitely couldn’t have been that.” She teases, turning and rotating your face towards her. “Oh wow.”

“What? We just kissed that’s all-“

“Just kissed?!” She interrupts, leaning in and smelling you.

“Did you just sniff me?!” You jump back, amusement and annoyance following your words.

“Damn he was wearing some good calonge,” She continues, “What’d he do? Prop you up on the bartop and take you right then and there?” She bursts out into laughter, your face brightening to a sunset pink. You look away too quickly for her to realize what she said is almost true.

“Yeah well, I knew from the beginning that all he wanted from me was just that. I’m not that kind of girl.” You continue removing the smudges of color from around your cheeks and neck where some of the residual was left behind by his lingering sucks and kisses.

Just skimming the area burns with a remembrance of him.

Tessa crosses her arms, a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth, “Those hickies say otherwise.” She shakes back the frizzy strands of hair tickling at her neck.

“Tess!” You yell, a shush sounding from a bargoer who sits in one of the stalls you forgot to check for an audience upon entry.

Tessa snorts, her aching belly laugh earning an eye roll and exuberant exhale through your nose. “I think I’m gonna head home. I’ll call you a cab.” You start, pulling out your phone and scrolling through your contacts in search of the overused cab service number.

“Fair enough, the drinks here kinda suck, and the guys weren’t worth my time either.” It’s your turn to laugh, smiling at your phone screen at Tessa’s critical words.

“Are you going to write a review?” You ask, locking your phone after sending information to the cab service.

Tessa hums, “A strongly worded review.” The two of you laugh.

You bid Tessa farewell and gave the driver her address, no doubt that she wouldn’t be able to once the night caught up with her. Tessa was already half asleep in the backseat, peeling a piece of gum from the crappy interior of the guys' cab. “Text me when you get home.” You order, wiggling a finger her way.

“I will, say hi to Nana for me.” She responds.

“How’d you-”

“You visit her almost every day, a nightly outing wasn’t gonna change that.” The piece of gum she was thronging finally falls from above her, landing on one of the dirty floor mats.

“Ladies, the meter’s runnin’,” Says the driver, a young man wearing a grey sweatshirt with a toothpick between his lips.

“Bye Tessie.” You back away from the car with a smile, knowing how much Tessa despised being called ‘Tessie’.

She sticks her arm out the window, holding up a manicured middle finger as a token of her gratitude and love.

“Miss ______!” The receptionist calls, a surprised expression riding the long length of her face. “It’s awful late, I can only allow you a minute or so with your grandmother...the hospital’s turning in.” She explains, a look of pain clearly shining in her eyes.

“I thought hospitals didn’t turn in.” You say half joking.

“The hospital may not, but the staff sure does. You have five minutes.” She jots down a quick note, handing it to you.

“‘Miss ______ has been granted access to her grandmother’s room until 24:00, Please allow her to remain until then.’”

“Just in case a nurse comes along.” A warm smile graced her lips, one filled with pity.

You nod, not another word exchanged between you. The same solid door you’ve opened multiple times looks the same as you approach it for the...god you’ve lost count. No matter, this visit is just another amongst hundreds. You don’t bother knocking, entering quietly. “Hi, Nana.” You say cheerfully, a genuine smile on your face.

No answer.

“I’m sorry for visiting so late.” You stare at the floor, refusing to look at her. “You always were a night owl anyway.” The repetitive beep of machines connected to your grandmother are just background noise to you now, barely audible and oddly comforting to know her heart is still beating. “Today was different compared to my average day of leftovers and mulch lined fingernails.” You chuckle. “That must be news to you.”

Your grandmother, known by you as Nana, has been in a coma for roughly two years. She was struck by a bus while on one of her daily walks, something she did every afternoon for as long as you’d known her. To see her be so inactive and still was almost insulting. Nonetheless, she had always been a good listener, on and off life support.

“I met someone.” You start, pulling up a cushioned chair that smelled distinctly of death and sterile plastic, a scent that lingered everywhere here. “I know i’ll never see him again, but I thought you should know.” You hold her hand, it’s smooth digits cold as ice from weak circulation. “His name was Park Jimin.” You sigh, blushing with embarrassment at how even saying his name gives you butterflies.

“Nana, he was so handsome...you’d melt at the sight of him.” You bite your lip, gnawing on it, silently wishing it was Jimin who would tug at the plump skin. A flower petal falls off her bouquet of white roses you’d left just a few days before, your attention drawn to the minute movement. The room was always stagnant, like a pond absent of life and insects swarming the surrounding marsh, so any movement inside quickly drew your eye. As for the flowers themselves, Nana always judged the bouquets before they went on display or were sold, not that she would have been against selling white roses, they were her favorite after all.

They are her favorite.

Now though, the flowers were beginning to wilt, their color draining from a pure white into a mold like yellow, some even brown with death, something that seemed to spread like wildfire here.

“Dear?” A voice sounds, one so familiar you almost cry.

Nana.

You look up at your grandmother to find her still unconscious, her eyes sitting back in their sockets, her skin almost a pale white, and her hair grey with lighter streaks amongst the charcoal strands. “My good lord, sweetheart.” The voice, belonging to Mrs. Brackenbury, was so uncomfortably similar to your sickly grandmothers. She worked here as a nurse. “Her door was ajar, I was worried something was wrong, but dear, what are you doing here so late? It’s nearly tomorrow!” She holds her palm flatly over her midsection, supporting herself from the front with worry for you.

You pull the sweater - usually kept in your car - tightly around your torso, worried some of your scarcely covered skin might show and earn looks of confusion and disgust from the older woman. “I was out and figured I’d stop by, see how she’s doing.”

Mrs. Brackenbury sighs, taking a step into the room and picking up Nana’s chart, reading it over with a bored expression, as if she’s seen the same stats for the past two years your grandmother has resided here. “She’s doing great, her stats steady.” She reassures, “And constantly dreaming I’m sure.” She jokes, closing the chart and placing it back where it belongs, tucked away in its cubby at the end of the hospital bed. “Come sweety, she needs her rest.”

Doesn’t she get enough rest as it is? You wanted to say, desperately yearning for the sound of her voice and the warmth to once again inhabit her hands. “Sure.” You answer dryly, standing from the chair smelling of death and instead heading towards the door.

“Perhaps new flowers are in order.” Mrs. Brackenbury speaks, her voice cheerful and yet melancholy despite the smile on her face. She picks the flowers up and out of the clear vase.

“Noted. I’ll bring her favorites. Goodnight Mrs. Brackenbury.”

“Goodnight Dear.”

You hear the flowers hit the bottom of the trash can as you walk out.

The streets were cold and empty, driving along them was odd, for a city so often engulfed in nightlife this eerie silence was bone-chillingly nerve-wracking. Pop music flowed like silk through the speakers, entering your ears just as the sounds of Jimins kissing escapades did.

God.

You parked in front of the flower shop, the lights off and door fully closed, just as you had left it. Brightly displayed flowers shown in the large front window, illuminated by dim display lights. You pick up your heels, no longer wanting to deal with them pinching and assaulting your feet. Avoiding stepping anywhere that may prove painful if descended upon, you work your way closer to the door, the sounds of insects, the mew of a stray tabby cat, and a breeze that seemed to whip through the city only to arrive at the outskirts, where your Nana’s flower boutique laid. You hum along to the song previously blasting through your car, shaking your keys to the beat. That all stops when you finally get to the door.

It wasn’t closed at all.

The breeze causes it to sway slightly, moving inwards only to be sucked back against the doorframe with each passing brush of wind. Hastily, you push it open with a creak, the copper bell above jingling quietly and without full force. At first, nothing seems out of the ordinary, everything that you can see has been undisturbed. Then again, the darkness enveloping the usually bright boutique prevents much of anything from being seen.

With a flick of your finger, you hit the light switch, finding it futile as the click proves useless when nothing changes. You flip them again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Nothing; your breathing becomes heavy, you can see the outline of the cash register, it appears to be closed, but from what you remember, you forgot to lock it this afternoon. The money lying in that box all goes towards Nana’s medical bills, since your father is no help.

Dad.

You step forward, taking courageous broad strided steps all in the hopes of being able to protect yourself if suddenly jumped or attacked.

Squish.

You stop, feeling something thick and slippery like oil beneath your bare foot. It’s warm, and when you look down you see the spitting image of your father, lying lifelessly face down with your trimming scissors delved deep between his shoulder blades.

“D-dad?” You wince, your voice loud and shaky compared to the quiet, even peaceful, sounds that make themselves known around you.

There’s no answer, of course, just the silent drips of scarlet blood off the hilt of the scissors which are now concealed by thick plasma. Your delicately raised white roses, tended to be the most beautiful of any rose are now crushed beneath the dead weight of your father. Your lungs provide you no air for words, short staggered breaths being the only fuel for your shocked silence.

Dropping to your knees, you hover your hands around your father’s face, wanting to, but not being able to bring yourself to touch him. Instead, you lift a rose, raising it to your cheek and brushing its drenched petals over your cheekbone. Thorns catch the soft skin of your profile, tugging and tearing a long thin cut down the flesh. Tears smear under your eyes, shadows formed by watery eyeliner and mascara that regrettably was not waterproof.

Before you can call out to your father again, a sudden, strangled frequency erupts from some unknown source, “Shhhht.” It sounds, freezing you into a solid brick of stone. The sound itself is similar to that of a radio or static driven TV, but what chills you to the core...is that the sound was near, too near.

The sound came from in the room.

You swallow, still crouched down in the pool of blood; warm liquid seeping between your toes. With shaking hands, you wipe away warm salty tears from the sullen trenches under your eyes. “J…n...ssi.” The sound remains staticy, your ears and shielded eyes attentive to the deep shadows that somehow holds an even blacker black than that of the already dark depths enveloping the boutique.

A sharp intake of stale air, one that smells of copper enters your lungs when you somehow muster the courage to breathe out words. “You,” You start, gulping in the hopes of moistening your throat fighting for lubrication. “You killed my father,” Your legs shake, your lips quiver, and the fire within you that was just fighting for reignition is now flaring. “And you have the audacity to hide in the shadows?!” Whoever stands still alive in this room with you is just as nervous as you are, you can practically smell the stress hormones exuding off them. Moonlight has begun to trickle through the display window, illuminating your father's corpse and the pool of blood continuing to grow around him.

Static rises again.

“Jimin~ssi!” The voice is panicked, filled with a desperation so familiar that it makes your heart ache. The words the panicked mouth spit, however, those few letters sent chills riding up your spine.

You clutch the flower close to your heart, dropping it when he emerges into the descending moonlight. “Jimin?”

God you hated white roses.

Zombie Boy

(gif credit: rosaque) (Literally one of my top five gif makers.) (I adore them) 

Author’s Note: Holy shit I’ve been working on this damn thing for so long that now I hate it. It started as a Billy x reader fic and slowly turned into an OC fic so weee!

Summary: Billy helps Byers!Reader through the challenges of protecting her little brother.

I laid on my back in bed, a book resting on my chest, one from the pile of novels in my corner that I told myself I would read over the summer. Well, the summer was creeping to a close, the days became shorter and colder and I hadn’t made a dent. Shuffling from my window made me glance up to identify a familiar mullet-haired boy climbing through, gingerly stepping around the things on my desk.    “You know you can just come in the front door, right?” I asked as my focus moved back to my book, turning the page.    “More fun this way.” He grinned as his booted feet beat the floor.

Billy grabbed me by the ankles and dragged me to the end of the bed, forcing me to lose my clutch on my book in surprise as a yelp escaped my lips. I let out a wild giggle as he planted his hands on either side of my head and leaned down to kiss me.

   “What’s that for?” I smiled up at him, resting my hands on his shoulders.    “Missed you after school today.” He hummed, pressing another chaste kiss to my lips.    “I had to go to the doctor with Will,” I explained. Every other Monday for the past year had been the scheduled day to go back to Hawkins Lab to meet Doctor Sam Owens. He maintained that he wasn’t one of the men that caused harm to Will and that all of those men were gone, but I remained incredulous. The tests they did were routine, often not revealing anything out of the ordinary or new. But it was evident that they were searching for something, though they wouldn’t tell us what. Billy had been in Hawkins for hardly three weeks. He spent the first week here turning out every girl he could, it was almost like he had a list in his head of girls he wanted to fuck and leave in the dust. But I wasn’t going to bend to that so easily, and he made it his task to get me alone. And it wasn’t so much that I was purposely avoiding him, but that I just had other things going on. He caught onto my schedule and ended up staying behind after school and waiting for me to get out of my study group in the library. At least, that’s what he said, but I’m not entirely convinced that he didn’t just happen to get out of detention at the same time I left. He somehow persuaded me to let him give me a ride home. And then a ride home the next day, and the next day, until he kidnapped me and took me to the diner before going home. We talked about his home life, where he was from. What California was like. The Byers’ family could never afford to travel out of state, let alone to go as far as the coasts of California. He showed me how he could tie a cherry stem into a knot with his tongue, sticking it out of his mouth and proudly displaying it. I tried it myself, ending up nearly choking on the damn thing in the process. I turned away from him, my face red from coughing and from the embarrassment that could be seen in the rising blush on my cheeks. He caught my chin, turning me around to face him and pressing his lips to mine. We both tasted of the artificial sugar from the cherries and the whipped cream from our milkshakes. He pulled away with a smirk, finally winning in this unspoken game he was playing. And, much to my surprise, he didn’t try to get into my pants when he dropped me off at home. He instead gave me one last peck on the lips and went home. The day I decided to tell him about Will was an arduous one. I told him we needed to talk, which I could tell struck fear into his heart. He drove us out to the quarry and parked along the edge. We rolled down the windows to let in some of the tranquil autumn air and to ease the nervous sweat that was beading on my forehead. He listened intently as I poured my heart out, resting a reassuring hand on my knee when I felt the tears burning in the back of my eyes and my throat closing up. I was more emotionally raw than I had in a long time, finally getting some semblance of the truth out to somebody that I knew would listen and I could trust not to say anything. Sure, it wasn’t the whole truth. Only what you could read about in the papers and watch on the nightly news, but getting it off my chest was the most significant thing. That spot on the edge of the quarry became our spot. It was far enough off the beaten path that other couples wouldn’t be able to find us. It wasn’t our intention to hide, but neither of us could deny the peace we found sitting beside each other, fingers intertwined, music playing softly on the radio.   As the days went on, both of us became more and more comfortable with each other, he dragged me into the back seat to sit on his lap, eyes full of lust. The night ended with a severe lack of clothes and a plethora of bruises on the inside of my thighs and along my neck. He met me with a smirk the next couple of days of school, noticing I had borrowed a turtleneck from Jonathan to hide the marks on my neck. Then came the task of telling my brother why exactly I had to swipe his shirt. Which ended as many of our discussions did, in a screaming fit. Both of us with red faces and clenched fists as we hurled insults back and forth. There was an unspoken Billy ban in our house, not that Jonathan actually had the balls to enforce it. Besides, his time was consumed by being the pretentious prick that he is and sitting in his room blasting boring music and reading some old ass book. Despite my brother’s contempt for Billy, every Friday night was date night and he’d be picking me up soon. I spent a few moments in front of the mirror trying to tame my overly staticky hair and smearing on a coat of lipstick before I heard a knock at the door. I popped the lid back on my lipstick, setting it down on my vanity tray before answering the door.     “You’re early.” I greeted, opening the front door for Billy. He beamed at me, a slight blush on his cheeks from the biting winter air. His arms were behind his back, obviously hiding something from my view.    “What you got there?” I asked, “A puppy?” He rolled his eyes, revealing the bouquet of violets he held behind his back. The plastic wrapping crinkled as I took them, admiring the note card that was attached. All it had was Billy’s initials and a heart drawn on it, about as romantic as this boy usually got.    “What’s this for? What did you do?”    “What, I can’t just bring my girlfriend flowers?” He opposed, settling his hands on my hips and pecking me on the lips as he moved me aside to step in from the cold.      “Hmm… Nope.” I hummed, heading into the kitchen to put the flowers in water. The last time he bought me flowers, he beat up some guy that I made an offhand comment about. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of me in chemistry class, and it was starting to make me uncomfortable. And Billy wasn’t going to have that, oh no. He waited until I had a sick day from school to confront the boy in the hall after class and knock out one of his teeth. When he was supposed to bring me more cold medicine after school, he instead spent the evening in detention, arriving three hours late with bloodied knuckles, a milkshake from Benny’s, cough syrup, and a bouquet of violets. It wasn’t until the next day when I returned to school that I knew he had nearly knocked a kid out in the hallway. It seemed to be a routine now before I could hear rumors of his misbehavior through the grapevine, he brought me a bouquet. I rose onto my tiptoes to reach a vase from the cabinet, before I could reach it, I bumped against something on the counter. I let out a sound of surprise as I accidentally knocked Will’s sketchbook off. It hit the ground with a thud, a piece of paper fluttering out. I bent over to pick it up, discovering it was a newspaper clipping with writing in marker that bled through to the other side of the paper. I flipped it over to see it was the story from the day Will was found. Green marker was scrawled across the picture “Zombie Boy”. I felt my face instantly heat up with anger as I crumpled the paper in my hand.    “Hey, you okay?” Billy asked, taking notice of my taught muscles and caressing my shoulders from behind.    “Who the fuck makes fun of a kid that ended up in an alternat-” I stopped myself, realizing that I was about to accidentally spill the beans to Billy.    “What?”    “Ugh!” I roared, uncrumpling the paper and showing it to him, “How can kids be so shameless as to make fun of a kid who was kidnapped and brainwashed and probably tortured by some fucking evil corporation with nothing better to do than to try to fuck people over for the sake of-” I rambled before I was cut off by a peck on my lips. I let out a huff, glaring at Billy,    “Don’t kiss me when I’m mad!” I objected, reaching up to erase the bit of my lipstick that rubbed off on his lips.    “Why are you mad?” A small voice broke from behind me. I spun to see Will standing in the entryway to the kitchen, an empty glass in hand.    “Nothin’ kiddo. Need more to eat?” I questioned, “I can fix you a sandwich or something before we go.” Although Will had grown taller over the past year, he hadn’t filled out any. All I could attribute it to was the stress from everything he had been through. It seemed like we could seldom get him to eat anything most of the time, and when he did eat, he just picked at it.    “No, I had pizza at Mike’s, thanks.” He smiled, going into the fridge and pouring himself a glass of orange juice. Billy still held the scrap of crumpled newspaper in his hand, peering at me with furrowed brows and lips parted as if he were about to say something. I shook my head at him, not wanting him to bring up something that Will was evidently trying to hide. He ignored me though,    “Hey, Will. Where’d this come from, bud?” Billy questioned, holding the scrap out to Will. Will's face fell as he looked at the paper,    “Nowhere.” He whispered, studying his beat-up sneakers and shuffling them stiffly.    “It obviously came from somewhere. Tell me who I need to punch.” Billy insisted,    “Billy.” I uttered, resting my hand on his shoulder to calm him down.    “What? This isn’t cool!” He bellowed “Will?”    “I-I- I don’t know… It was in my locker when I opened it this morning.” He stammered. Billy growled,    “Pussy couldn’t even say it to your face.” He grumbled. I delivered a thump to Billy’s shoulder, a warning to watch his language and to quiet himself down. His anger was tough to curtail. It was constant and impending, threatening to burst out and attack whoever the closest victim happened to be, whether or not they were the source of his anger. He told me that I helped make him better about his anger. And I told him he shouldn’t rely on me to do that for him. It wasn’t healthy to put his sanity on me. But I did notice when I was with him that he sat with fists clenched, jaw taught, and teeth grinding rather than unleashing that anger onto anybody else. I took the piece of newspaper from Billy and reached into the front pocket of his denim shirt, pulling out his lighter,    “C’mere.” I ordered Will, beckoning him over to the kitchen sink and handing him the lighter, “Light her up.”    “What?”    “Light it on fire. Burn the bullies… Symbolically, anyway.” I said, shooting a glare over my shoulder at Billy, who I could sense was plotting all the various ways he could make the people who hurt Will suffer. Will struggled to turn the ignitor on the lighter, but after a couple of tries, he lit the paper on fire and watched the edges of it curl up on itself as it burned away. I dropped it into the sink when the flames got too close to my fingers, putting it out with the faucet before we set off the smoke alarms, Will dawned a hint of a devious grin as he glanced up at me,    “Feels good, huh?”    “Yeah. Kinda.” He smirked as I threw my arm around his shoulder.    “You know you can talk to me about this stuff, right? You don’t have to hide it?” I whispered.    “Yeah, I know… it’s just… I don’t know… I feel like I’m…. kind of a burden.” He murmured, once again training his eyes on his sneakers. My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach at those words. With everything that he had been through, the last thing he needed to be thinking was that he was a burden to me. I felt a sting at the back of my eyes as I grabbed him by the shoulders,    “Hey.” I asserted, “You are not a burden. Nothing you could ever do would make you a burden, you understand?” He nodded, taking his glass of orange juice and his sketchbook and retreating into his bedroom once again. When I heard his door click shut, I turned back toward Billy. The sting in my eyes had turned into tears that overflowed out onto my cheeks.    “Hey, hey, hey.” He consoled, meeting me halfway across the kitchen and tugging me against his chest. I let out a few silent sobs into his shirt,    “I just don’t know how to help him.” I squeaked. Billy let me cry on his shoulder for a little while, brushing his hands up and down my back while he rocked me back and forth.    “Sorry.” I sniffled as I backed away, wiping the snot from under my nose. Billy shook his head to tell me not to worry about it, snagging a tissue from the box that sat on the counter and handing it to me. I gladly took it, wiping my eyes.    “Don’t be sorry, okay? I can’t even imagine what you guys went through.”   I nodded as he tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear,    “Come on. Let’s just go to the movie and try to relax for the night, okay?” He suggested, wiping one last stray tear from my cheek.    “Lemme go say bye real quick,” I told him, heading back towards Will’s bedroom. I knocked on his door, peering in,    “Hey, kid. Billy and I are headed to the movies. Want me to bring home some popcorn for you?” I asked.    “Uh. How about some milk duds?” He asked, a grin playing on his lips.    “You got it. Love you, see ya later.”  I said, starting to close the door, “Oh, don’t forget to let Chester out to potty before you go to bed.” The dog lifted his head off the mattress at the sound of his name,    “Got it.” Will told me, patting Chester on the head. I closed the door behind me as I went into the hallway, knocking on Jonathan’s door.    “Hey, asshole!” I hollered over the music that was blasting from his room, “I’m leaving!”    “Good, get Hargrove out of my house!” Jonathan retorted. He and I had a strained relationship. Being so close in age, we always struggled to outdo each other when we were younger. What should’ve been playful sibling rivalry ended up driving a wedge between us when Lonnie left. We were down to one income in the house, and that meant that everybody got less and less. Less for birthdays, less for holidays, less for back to school. It made us end up fighting for rewards, getting taken out for ice cream with just mom when we did something well since we couldn’t afford to get all four of us ice cream at one time. You would think that Will’s disappearance would’ve brought us together, but we only ended up blaming each other. Him shouting at me that I should’ve heard something since I was home, me screaming at him for getting a job instead of taking care of Will and driving him back from Wheeler’s house that night since he had taken the car to his job.

We both kept a closer watch over Will. That was for sure, but I could tell that the rift was starting to bother him. He wanted to have family game night but it would usually end up with Jonathan or I screaming at each other over something stupid. And I would like to think that I was always the innocent bystander, just the victim of Jonathan’s irrationality. But I was irrational too, and I knew it. But nothing pushed us further from each other than Billy Hargrove. He was everything that Jonathan despised. A jock with a bad boy attitude, fancy car, loved metal and Playboy magazine. He was somehow below Jonathan, in his eyes anyway. But he did knock Steve down a peg, not that Steve paid any mind to it. Jonathan, on the other hand, saw it as a potential opportunity to go after his middle school crush, Nancy Wheeler. Even though she and Steve were still together, something about the way she talked about Steve told me something was off. It was only a matter of time before the Hawkins ‘it’ couple called it a quits. Billy took my hand, offering me a glance to say ‘you ready?’. When I nodded, he brought me out to his car, opening my door for me.    “You know I can open my own door, right?” I quipped.    “Can I not do something chivalrous?” He replied.    “Nope. Because I know all you really want is to get in my pants.”    “That’s not true! I want to talk about your feelings and get in your pants.” He defended, earning a smack on the chest when he got into the driver’s seat. As soon as he started the car, he reached for the radio, groaning in annoyance when the only thing on his favorite station was commercials.    “Oh hey! I like that song!” I blurted as Billy flipped through the stations, He raised an eyebrow at me as he switched the station back,    “Under pressure, that brings the building down, splits the family in two.” I hummed along with the song,    “You and Bowie…” He chuckled to himself.    “At least I don’t have a half naked poster of him in my room.” I sassed, propping my feet up on the dash,    “Hey, you leave Shauna out of this!” He gasped, shooting me a glare.    “Shauna gives me the creeps. Her eyes follow you.” I brought my index and middle finger to my eyes, making a ‘watching you’ motion at Billy.    “Gotta have something to look at when you aren’t around, sweetheart. Unless you’ll let me take a picture.” He smirked, licking his lips as he glanced over at me and rested his hand on my thigh.    “And having some creepy old perv develop the film for you? No thanks.” I quipped, arranging my hand on top of his and giving it a squeeze.    “Could always use a Polaroid.” He suggested, “The only creepy perv looking at it would be me.”    “Not gonna happen, Hargrove.” I purred.    “Then Shauna stays.” He huffed.    “Fine. Then I guess I’ll just get a shirtless Arnie poster to hang over my bed.”    “Oh, that’s just cruel.” He replied.    “Gotta have something to look at when you aren’t around, sweetheart.” I cooed. By the grace of god, we managed to get a parking spot right out front of the Hawk. Billy was talking to me about something as we waited in line for the tickets. I couldn’t pay attention though, my eyes were focused on a group of kids I had seen picking on Will before. They were all crowded around the concession stand, throwing popcorn at each other and laughing.    “Hey.” Billy alerted, snapping his fingers in front of my face as I spaced out.    “Hm? What?” I exclaimed, my gaze shifting back to him.    “You okay?” He asked, following the direction where my stare was directed a second ago, “Those kids do something?” Billy had been on edge around me ever since I had my first breakdown about Will in front of him. The hostility wasn’t targeted at me, no, not in the slightest. But the first time he saw me cry, he got so irate that he went and beat up the older sibling of one of the kids who was bullying Will. Now every group of kids we saw made him bristle, his muscles going taut and jaw clenching when he saw them.    “Baby.” He prompted, giving me a bump with his elbow. I shook my head at him,    “No… I mean… I don’t know… maybe.” I sighed, looking at my feet.    “Want me to go have a talk with them?”    “No! God, no.” I blurted. The last time he went to ‘have a talk’ with somebody, we got banned from Benny’s diner. Something to do with food flying across the restaurant… and then… a person flying across the restaurant.      “You sure?”    “Yes. I’m sure I don’t want to get barred from the only movie theater in town, Billy.”      “Not that kind of ‘talking to them’.” He defended.    “Oh, so you’re just gonna yell at them until they break down in tears?”    “They deserve it if they’re giving Will shit.” I shook my head again,    “Just leave it.” Billy bought the tickets while I got in line for the concessions. I ordered a popcorn and drink for him and I to split as well as the milk duds Will wanted. I tucked them into my purse before meeting Billy at the end of the line. He hooked his arm through mine as he led me into the theater, picking our usual spot in the back row. It was rare that we ever went to a movie and actually watched it, more often than not we ended up making out the whole time. The previews started, allowing me to sink into my seat and relax for a moment. That was until the kids from the lobby sat in the row ahead of us. Billy threw his arm around my shoulder, trying to pull me against him.. I remained stiff though, eyes trained on the kids as they chatted and giggled. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I couldn’t help but think they were saying something about Will.    “Hey.” Billy murmured, resting his hand under my chin and turning me to look at him, “It’s okay.” I nodded, leaning against his shoulder and trying to focus on the movie. I reached into the popcorn bucket we were sharing, shoving a few pieces into my mouth. The group of kids burst out into laughter yet again, every muscle in my body tensed up. I couldn’t seem to relax, despite Billy’s hand running up and down my back.    “Hey, shut up, will ya?” Billy shouted at the kids, making them turn to us with bewildered eyes. When they caught sight of me, their laughter dissolved into whispers, and I could hardly make out over the booming music of the movie,    “Isn’t that Zombie Boy’s sister?” I sank my teeth into my lip, rough enough to leave a bruise. Billy, however, didn’t hold the same restraint. He threw himself out of his seat, practically leaping over the row in front of us and grabbing the kid by the collar,    “What did you just say?” He snarled as he tore the boy to his feet.    “Nothing.” The kid burst, grasping onto Billy’s forearms.    “Billy.” I breathed,    “No. Nuh-uh. He’s not getting away with this.”    “By all means, kid. Repeat what you just said!” Billy hollered, making everybody in the nearly full theater turn around to stare.    “I-Isn’t t-that z-z-zombie boy’s s-sister?” The kid stammered.    “That’s what I thought.” Billy growled, “What the hell's the matter with you, huh? Calling him that? Saying that in front of her?”    “I-I-I-I d-don’t… I- don’t k-know.” The kid sputtered.    “Kids got a name. It’s Will.” Billy snapped, “Now, you apologize to my girl, got it?” The boy gulped, turning to look at me,    “I-I-I-I’m sorry.” He stuttered, eyes wide in shock.    “Say that shit again and you’ll be the next kid to disappear.” Billy threatened, releasing the boy with a shove.  He stepped back over the row of seats and took my hand.    “You okay?” He murmured, his opposite hand resting on my cheek. I nodded, eyes still trained on the stunned kids in the row ahead of us.    “Let’s get out of here.” He led me out of the theater and to his car in silence. Not even the radio played. The only sound was tires on asphalt. He knew I would be mad at him for how he acted in the theater. And I was, but I couldn’t bring myself to say anything about it. I didn’t have the energy. And my silence was always what scared him the most. Sometimes he liked to annoy me, get under my skin and make me yell at him. He thought it was hot when I got pissed. But silence was another beast entirely.    We pulled into my driveway to see Will standing on the porch. He wore his brown and green plaid PJ pants with a white tee shirt. Despite the stinging cold of winter, he had no shoes on and no jacket. He stared off into space, eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar.    “Will?” I called as I stepped out of the car, walking towards him slowly. He didn’t reply. I broke into a sprint and bounded up the porch steps,    “Will!?” I gasped, As I got closer, I could determine his eyes were trained on the sky, darting back and forth wildly.    “Will!?” I repeated, grabbing him by the shoulders. They rose and fell harshly with each breath he took becoming faster and sharper than the last.    “Will! Bud! Snap out of it!” I shouted, waving my hand in front of his vision.    “Will!” Billy bellowed from behind me, loud enough to rip Will out of his trance. He let out a gasp, grabbing onto my arms where they rested on his shoulders. His eyes explored all of my features before he threw himself into my arms, head against my chest.    “It’s okay, I’m here.” I soothed, placing a hand on the back of his head and another on his back. He balled up my jacket in his fists, “Let's get inside, come on, it’s freezing.” He stayed glued to me as we went inside, only relaxing slightly when I sat down on the couch with him. Mom had gone out to dinner with Bob, leaving Jonathan in charge while I was out with Billy. But music still blasted from his room, blissfully unaware that Will had managed to wander out onto the porch alone.    “Stay here, kid,” I whispered to Will, getting up and swinging Jonathan’s bedroom door open. To my surprise, he wasn’t there. I glanced over to the bathroom to see the door open and the lights off.    “Jonathan!?” I shouted, peering into mom’s bedroom as well. I came back out into the living room, raising my arms in a shrug when I looked at Billy. I peered out of the curtains and into the driveway to see that his car was gone. I hadn’t even noticed when we pulled in because I was too worried about Will.    “You’ve GOT to be fucking kidding me,” I grumbled. He snuck out, leaving Will home alone while knowing damn well that he hadn’t been himself lately. I glanced down at my watch,  it was half past midnight.    “Go get in bed, bud.” I sighed.    “I- uh… I don’t… I don’t want to be by myself.” He murmured, staring up at me with teary eyes. I nodded knowingly,    “I’ll go get your blankets and we can sleep on the couch, okay?” He presented a half smile,    “Sit down, I got it,” Billy whispered, giving me a gentle push towards the couch. I followed his order, sitting beside Will who threw his legs over my lap and leaned on my shoulder, closing his eyes.   Billy returned with Will’s blanket and put it over the boy before sitting down beside me. I let out a sigh as he pressed a kiss to my forehead.    “Sorry about tonight. We can go out again later in the week.”    “Don’t worry about it.” He soothed, running a hand through my hair.    “You don’t have to stay.”      “I know, but I’m going to.” I let out a contented hum as I leaned against his shoulder. Dating Billy came with a couple of things that I had anticipated. One was possessiveness. Which could be seen as a bad thing from those on the outside of our relationship. We were working on it, though. The other was protectiveness. He never let me meet his family. And the second he felt that I was even the slightest bit uncomfortable, he sprang into action. Whether it was telling somebody off or decking them in the face. The number of times he wanted to beat up Jonathan couldn’t be counted on all of my fingers and toes. Luckily, I managed to talk him down. No need to prove to Jonathan that Billy was exactly who he thought he was. Though he was initially only protective over me, it stretched out to Will as well, after I told him the version of events that could be read about in the papers, anyway. The boy who was kidnapped and experimented on for MK Ultra. He didn’t mind the nights we were supposed to spend together being cut short by my having to go home to take care of him. Or the times Will would knock on my door and reluctantly ask if I could go sleep in bed with him when Billy was there. I struggled to stay awake as I leaned against Billy’s shoulder, my eyelids growing heavier as I watched him flip through the TV channels. His hand carding through my hair didn’t help the situation either. Will had passed out with his head on my shoulder, breath falling against my neck, leaving me stuck on the couch.

   “Just go to sleep.” Billy murmured as I lifted my head off of him.    “No… I gotta stay up fo-” I interrupted myself with a yawn, “Stay up for when Jonathan comes back.”    “Why?”    “So I can kick his ass.” I exhaled.    “You’re not gonna be kicking anybody’s ass unless you get some sleep.”    “Mmm gonna kick your ass if you let me fall asleep,” I warned, snuggling tighter against him.    “Okay, good luck with that.” He chuckled, his chest vibrating as he did so. I awoke later to the front door opening. The TV had long since turned to static, the weight of Billy’s head on top of mine told me he had finally passed out too.    “Sorry.” Mom mouthed as she stepped inside, closing the door behind her as silently as possible. “Is he okay?” She mouthed once again, pointing to Will. I nodded, not wanting to explain to her what had happened yet. Her eyes darted over to Billy and I could tell she wanted to scold me for letting him spend the night, but she didn’t dare wake Will while he was getting some rare and much-needed sleep. I closed my eyes once again, listening as mom got ready for bed before I drifted off once more. *** I awoke later in my own bed, Will tucked in beside me with his back towards me. I figured Billy must’ve carried me to bed before he left. I glanced over at the clock to see that it was seven in the morning. Beside the clock was a note from Billy, See you later, love B I let out a yawn as I swung my legs off the edge of the bed and headed into the kitchen, desperate for a glass of water. I got out a glass and filled it up from the tap, jumping up to sit on the counter as I sipped on it. I glanced down, there was an envelope with my name on it. I raised an eyebrow, clearing the rest of the letters off the stack to pick it up. The return address came into view. Purdue University. My heart started to beat faster. I had been so busy with worrying about Will recently that I forgot that I sent in an essay as an application for a scholarship. I drew my lip between my teeth, shoving my finger under the flap of the envelope and tearing it open. I took a deep breath as I pulled the letter out, keeping my eyes shut,    Dear Miss Byers, we are happy to inform you that- That was all I had to read before I threw myself off the counter and started jumping up and down excitedly, letting out a squeal. Will came into the room, flying around the corner,    “Are you okay? Is there a spider?” He asked,    “No! Will! I got accepted for a scholarship!” I announced. A grin grew across his face as he tugged me into a hug,    “Awesome!” I did a victory lap around the house, bouncing up on the couch and holding the letter up over my head, letting out another shriek. I continued to read down the page, I was one of five finalists for the scholarship. A full ride to Purdue. A college that I would never be able to afford without financial help. Not only was I a pick for financial help, no. I was in the running for a full, four-year scholarship. Their phone number was at the bottom of the page with directions to call to set up a time for an in-person interview. I ran over to the phone, yanking it off the receiver and dialing the number with shaking hands. I stuttered through making the appointment. The high from my scholarship was quickly forgotten as the next few days went on. Will got progressively worse. From having a plummeting body temperature to frantically drawing a massive map in crayon to being rushed to the hospital after collapsing into a seizure after Hopper was found in the tunnels. Hopper himself had been attacked by… well… god knows what they were. Vines with a mind of their own, I suppose.  He had been taken off to be hosed down and get all the radioactive material off of him while Will was rolled up to his hospital room. He screamed in pain as if his whole body was burning. They immediately prepped him with an oxygen mask before taking him out of sight. I stayed behind with Mike who threw his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into his side. I placed my hands over my mouth as tears sprang from my eyes,    “He’s gonna be okay,” Mike reassured. The boy had grown to be taller than me over the past couple of years, enough so that he could rest his chin on top of my head as I threw my arms around his waist and gripped him with all my strength.    “He’s strong.”    “I know.” I breathed out shakily. Will’s screams faded as he was taken further into the hallways of the hospital. Mom had been allowed to follow the doctors and Will while we stayed on in the lobby with Bob. Hopper had also been taken to be evaluated and to check radiation levels after he’d been in the upside down for a day or so. I had just about fallen asleep on Mike’s shoulder when Dr. Owens returned to the waiting room. Mike and I both sprang from our seats, scrambling to Will’s room. He was asleep in bed, oxygen mask still on. Mom sat beside the bed with a cup of coffee in her hands and a blanket draped over her shoulders.    “Hey.” She breathed, offering me a weak grin.    “He’s been sedated to ease the pain, he might be out for a couple more hours. Then we can assess what happened.” Dr. Owens explained, “I’ll give you some privacy, Hopper should be out of containment soon.”    “Thank you.” Mom breathed. Will’s face was pale to the extent that I could see the blue veins that peered through his skin. His eyes were sunken in, an eerie gray shadow trailed down his cheeks. His lips held a slight blue tint as well. If it weren’t for the machines beeping and monitoring his heart rate, anybody who saw him would think he was dead. I reached out and grabbed his hand. It was icy cold, stinging my hands that had been warmed by me anxiously wringing them together while waiting for any news about him. I glanced over at mom,    “They say he’s stable. That maybe it’s an effect of the radiation he was exposed to.” She murmured. She and I both knew damn well that there was something the lab wasn’t telling us. It couldn’t just be the radiation. Radiation didn’t cause these symptoms. With the threat of the nuclear arms race and the Cold War, the effects of radiation poisoning had been drilled into the brains of everybody with a television set. It didn’t cause seizures or plummeting body temperature or memory loss. This was something else. Something else was wrong with Will. I glanced at my watch to notice that it was nearly three am. I wasn’t sure how anybody else was still awake, I felt my eyelids grow heavier and heavier.      “Go to sleep.” Mom sounded from behind me.    “I wanna be up when he wakes up.” I sighed, stretching out and trying to get my muscles to wake up a little.    “Doc said it’ll be a couple hours, just go to sleep.” I nodded, resting my head on the pitiful excuse for a mattress that Will was laying on, my hand still clutching his. The beeping of the machines began to lull me to sleep only to be awakened what seemed like only minutes later by the screech of the alarm on my watch.    “Shit.” I hissed under my breath, making everybody in the room turn to look at me, “I have a scholarship interview. I’m gonna have to call and reschedule.” I reached for my purse, pulling out my wallet,    “There’s a payphone downstairs, right?” I asked, glancing over at Hopper and mom who had been here many more times than I had.    “Y-you can go.” Will stuttered, making my heart jump in my chest. I hadn’t expected him to be awake yet,    “No, bud. I’m staying here with you.”    “It’s a full ride, Y/N. This might be your only chance.” Will croaked, throat dry from the tubes they had shoved down it a few hours earlier.    “It doesn’t matter, I’ll find another way.”    “Just go, Y/N. I’ll be fine, I promise.” He offered me a weak smile. I stared at him with apprehension, not wanting to leave him here. But he was with Hopper, Mom, and Mike. A few of his favorite people in the world,    “Okay, I’ll see you when I get home in a few hours, yeah?” I held out my fist for a fist bump which he returned. I leaned over to press a kiss to the top of his head, doing the same to mom before waving to Mike and Hopper and heading out the door. I stopped in the waiting room to grab a cup of pathetically weak coffee before getting into my car. I let out a sigh as I stared at myself in the rearview mirror. My hair stood up in all directions, it hadn’t been washed in the past couple of days. I ran my fingers through it in an attempt to smooth it down. ****

   “Miss Byers?” A woman called my name. I glanced up to see her in a pencil skirt and overly poofy blouse. She pushed her big, red-framed glasses up on her nose as she took in the sight of me. The knees of my jeans were torn and stained with mud from when we found Hopper in the tunnels under Hawkins. I still had dirt under my fingernails and days old makeup smeared across my face. I showed her an apologetic smile as she led me back into an office. Several well-dressed men sat at a conference table, at the head of it was an empty chair which the woman directed me to. One of the men had the most hideous tie I had ever seen. It looked as though a toddler on psychedelic drugs took a box of crayons to it. The other had strikingly white teeth despite the black coffee he was drinking. The last of them had a mustache that looked like a squirrel was perched on his lip. The woman took a seat adjacent from me, crossing her legs and looking at me expectantly. My heart raced, pounding so hard I was sure every man in the room could hear it over the ticks of their watches.    “H-hello. I’m uh… Y/N Byers… Sorry, I uh… look…. Like this. I had a family emergency right before I left and didn’t have time to uh… clean up any.” I stammered, feeling tears stinging in the back of my eyes. I sniffled slightly and cleared my throat in an attempt to clear them away before the questions could start.    “I’m sorry to hear that.” White Teeth broke the stiff silence, making me let out a sigh of relief.    “Would it happen to have anything to do with what you wrote about in your essay?” The woman chimed.    “Uh… yeah… My little brother.” My application essay was supposed to be about the most impactful moment of your life. And, of course, mine was about the most horrifying week of my life. The week we thought my little brother was gone.      “Well. I must say. That story certainly made you stand out from the other applicants. If it hadn’t been for the constant news coverage, I don’t think we would’ve believed it.” Hideous Tie spoke up.    “So, you said that you want to study both journalism and criminology? Tell us about that.” Squirrel-stache said.        “Yeah… Uh… Well… To be honest, before what happened to Will, I had no clue what I wanted to do. But… the reporters we talked to were terrible and invasive. I just… want to be somebody that can be supportive in a situation like that.”

   “When you say terrible and invasive?”    “They each had some different, disgusting theory as to how it happened. Some were trying to paint it like it was somehow the fault of my mother. That because she’s a single mom that she’s negligent and that’s why Will went missing. Other’s tried to blame poor police work. Or the fact that my father was an abusive drunk. I guess it was everybody’s fault other than the people responsible.” Squirrel- stache shuffled his papers, looking over some of his notes for a moment before looking to the other men in the room.    “I’m going to be quite honest with you, Miss Byers.” He began, making my chest tighten, “I had my mind made up that you were the best candidate for this scholarship before we even met you.” The knot in my chest loosened as a smile tugged at the corner of my lips,    “Your story is so compelling. The way you wrote it was beautiful. And, seeing you here today, looking the way you do. And this is not meant to be taken into offense, but to see that you care so much about your family that you showed up to a scholarship interview with dirt all over you. That shows commitment.”    “Oh. Uh. Wow… I… I don’t even… I don’t even know what to say. Uh… Thank you. ” I huffed, a breathy laugh bubbling up in my throat.          “I’m going to have to discuss it with our higher-ups, conduct the other interviews. But I can tell you now that your chances are very good.” As quickly as I was ushered in, the woman led me back outside,    “Expect a call in a few days.” She smiled as I left. Once I was in my car, I burst out an excited screech, bouncing up and down in my seat as I beat on the steering wheel. I drove down the road for a few hours until the rumble in my stomach grew too loud to ignore. The McDonald's drive-through called my name, so I ordered a coffee and a biscuit before getting back on the highway for the drive home **** I let out a sigh as I turned into the driveway, but my relief quickly faded when I noticed that mom’s car wasn’t in the driveway. And the front door had been left ajar. I threw the car into park and scrambled out, flying up the steps. Before I reached the top stair, I noticed somebody laying on the floor in the entryway. As I got closer, I recognized it as Billy. He was sprawled out on his back on the floor,    “Billy!?” I shouted, scrambling to crouch down on the floor beside my boyfriend. He groaned and tried to roll over onto his side but he gave up and flopped onto his back once again.    “What the hell happened!?” I screamed, resting my hand on his cheek and taking in the sight of his bloodied nose.    “Mmmmm stab me.” He murmured.    “What? Stab you? Why would I stab you?”    “No…. stabbed me.”    “Somebody already stabbed you?”    “Mhmm.”    “Who? Where’d you get stabbed?” I gasped, unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way to see if the red fabric was camouflaging any blood.      “Max. Neck.”    “Max stabbed you in the neck?”    “Mhmm.”    “With what?” I glanced up to notice a syringe with a needle sticking out of it sitting on the floor. I reached for it, looking at the printed label that had been stuck on the side. I recognized the name as something that had been given to Will to help his anxiety before but in an exponentially higher dose.    “What the hell?” I murmured under my breath, staring down at Billy who awkwardly lolled back and forth in an attempt to get up, “Hey, hey. This is some strong stuff, okay? You’re gonna be down for a little while.” I told him as I rested my hand on his chest to stop him from moving. I got up from my place beside him and grabbed a throw pillow off the couch, placing it under his head.    “Mmm hurts.” He hummed, placing his hand on his head and rubbing it.    “Yeah, I’m sure it does. I’ll get you some ice.” I offered. I made my way into the kitchen, stepping over the broken plates and glasses that were scattered on the floor. I figured it better to not ask Billy what the hell happened, he wasn’t exactly in the state of mind to be talking. I yanked open the freezer, letting out a scream. The head of some creature spilled out. Billy scrambled into the kitchen,    “What happened!?” He slurred, stumbling into me and nearly knocking me over. He rested all of his weight on the counter behind me, barely able to stay on his feet. I pointed to the freezer,    “What the hell is that thing?” I grabbed a spatula from the drawer, poking the creature in the face and waiting for a response. Drool dripped from its mouth and dropped onto the floor with a splat.    “It’s…. Uh…. I don’t…. I don’t know…. I think it’s dead, though…” I murmured. It looked like a small Demogorgon, it had the same face that looked like a blooming flower. But why the hell was it in my freezer?    “Alright, come on, let’s get you on the couch,” I told Billy, hooking my arm under his and all but dragging him back into the living room as his weight grew heavier. I slumped him on to the couch, making him lay down before throwing the blanket over him. My first thought was to call Hawkin’s Lab to see if Will was still there. But the phone rang and rang, nobody answered. The next thought was to call the police station and see if Hopper had checked back in since I last saw him at the hospital.    “Hawkins Police Department. If you’re calling with an emergency, please hang up and dial 911.” Flo’s monotone voice came through the phone.    “Flo, Flo? Is Hop there?”    “Is he ever here?” She retorted.    “I’ll take that as a no. Do you know where he went?”    “Last radioed in two days ago, sweetheart, haven’t seen him since.” She responded.    “Thanks.” I sighed, hanging the phone back up just as headlights flashed in the driveway. I ran into the living room and out onto the porch, staggering down the steps and towards the car which I could now identify as Billy’s Camaro. Both doors slowly opened, revealing the faces of Will’s friends.    “Will!? Where’s Will!?” I shouted as the kids approached the house.    “He’s on the way home. With Nancy and Jonathan and your mom.” Mike replied I ushered them all inside before I glanced over my shoulder to see Steve’s face. It was beaten bloody and bruised. One eye was nearly swollen shut,    “Steve, oh my god!” I gasped, running over to the lanky boy, “Oh my god, your face, what the hell happened!?”    “Ask him.” He nodded towards the Billy where he slept on the couch.    “Billy did this?” I gasped, “Are you fucking kidding me? I can’t believe he would-”     “If you weren’t so far up his ass, you would’ve known he was a piece of shit!” Jonathan blurted from behind Steve, announcing his arrival.    “Pot calling the kettle…” I grumbled under my breath.    “What?”    “Did you just… forget about beating Steve up last year or?” I quipped.    “That’s different! Jesus Christ, I can’t believe you’re comparing the two!” He shouted at me, “Your boyfriend is a fucking maniac!”    “Don’t you dare fucking start with me, Jonathan!” I screamed back, “You were gone for days! We didn’t know where the hell you were. Turns out you were with Steve’s girlfriend! And Will was having flashbacks again! At least Billy was here for that!”    “Then he tried to beat up a child!” Jonathan fired back.    “What!?” I shouted, turning to look at Steve. He nodded his head,    “Grabbed Lucas by the collar, pinned him up against the bookcase.” Billy let out a groan, sitting up,    “What the hell is all the yelling about?” He grumbled. Jonathan barreled over to him, throwing his fist into Billy’s cheek. Lucky for Jonathan, Billy was still sedated.    “Hey!” I screamed, grabbing Jonathan by the shoulder to yank him back. He turned around, giving me a shove backward,    “What the hell is your problem!?” I snapped. Billy had managed to rise to his feet,    “Don’t fucking touch her.” He growled, raising his fist and throwing a weak punch at Jonathan, missing his face and bumping him on the shoulder.    “Billy, sit down.” I hissed. Jonathan started to raise his fist once again, but Steve intervened,    “Alright, alright, knock it off!” Steve shouted, putting himself between Jonathan and Billy, despite being on the losing end of fights with both of the boys.    “Steve, this isn’t your problem.” Jonathan snarled.    “It became my problem the second that damn thing in the freezer tried to eat me.” He retorted.    “You know, Steve did more to help than you did.” Jonathan spat, “You were fucking useless this whole time!”    “Useless!? I came home the night you snuck out to see Will on the porch by himself having another one of his visions! He could’ve frozen to death out there, wandered off into the woods all because you wanted to go behind Steve’s back and fuck Nancy!”    “Y/N?” A hushed voice came from behind me. I spun around to see Will, his hair slicked to his forehead with sweat and deep bags under his eyes. I brushed the locks from his face, gripping his cheeks,    “Are you okay?” I breathed, examining his face. His eyes were sunken in, dark bags accentuated by the fact that his skin was so pale. He nodded. I rested my forehead against his, letting out a shaking breath as I hugged him,    “I... I think he’s gone.” He whispered.    “He?”    “The shadow monster. I think he’s gone.”    “Good… Good.” I exhaled.    “How was your interview?” He asked, his throat scratchy and dry. I let out a breathy laugh, happy tears springing up in my eyes. Will’s first concern was never himself, he always worried more about those around him. Despite everything he had been through, he was asking about my college interview.    “It went great, bud. They really liked me.”    “Good.” Will beamed, wrapping his arms around me. I pressed a kiss to the top of his head, not minding the fact that he was covered in sweat. The only thing that mattered was that he was safe.    “I’m gonna take a shower.” He announced, looking up at me with his doey green eyes. I ruffled his hair, sending him off towards the bathroom as I turned my attention back to Steve.    “Steve, let me get you cleaned up.” He nodded, sitting at the kitchen table while I grabbed a wet washcloth and the first aid kit. When I returned, I gently wiped away the dried, caked blood. I was hoping that it would reveal clean skin, but instead, it uncovered more bruising. I carefully peeled off the rainbow bandages that the kids had haphazardly slapped on. I furrowed my brow, biting my lip, “What happened?” I whispered, “With Billy.” “He… uh… came over looking for Max.” Steve began, wincing occasionally as I continued to run the cloth over his skin. I hissed out the occasional sorry under my breath in response.    “He looked pissed. And I was worried about her… so I lied and said I didn’t know where she was.”    “Uh oh.”    “Yeah. Uh oh.” He agreed, shaking his head slightly,    “He got in the house, saw that Max and Lucas were here. And he grabbed Lucas and slammed him up against the wall.”    “Jesus,” I muttered, looking behind Steve to see Billy once again passed out on the couch with a now melted bag of ice on his face.    “Lucas kicked him in the balls.”    “Go, Lucas.” I smiled to myself.    “Billy threatened him again so I punched him… and then.” He pointed to his face, “And Max… she saved my ass, that’s for sure.”    “Stabbed him in the neck with a tranq!” Dustin chimed in from the living room, “It was badass!”    “Yeah, then she almost hit him in the dick with Steve’s bat!” Lucas added, clearly proud of his new crush. Steve and I both laughed. Though, he winced when his grin tugged at the gash on his lip. Mike had sat down outside the bathroom door while Will was taking a shower and getting rid of all the sweat. El took the spot beside him, head resting on his shoulder as she drifted off to sleep. The strength all of these kids held never failed to astound me. Once his skin was clean, I replaced the bandaids with butterfly closures. I opened the freezer, once again jumping when I remembered the Demogorgon was in there.    “Why the hell is there a Demogorgon in the freezer anyway!?”    “Demodog!” Dustin hollered, “And it’s an incredible scientific discovery that has to be preserved!”    “It’s cold enough outside, can’t you just… I don’t know… bury it in the snow or something?”    “And have the coyotes come and eat it? I don’t think so!” I let out a defeated groan, pulling the last of the ice cubes from the tray and dumping them into a plastic baggie before handing them to Steve.    “Maybe we just need to bury your face in the snow,” I commented as I watched him struggle to figure out where to put the ice. I got up from the chair and wandered into the living room. The kids were all sat on the floor, mindlessly flipping through the TV channels.    “What’re we gonna do about him?” Dustin asked, giving Billy a gentle kick to the thigh. He groaned in response, rolling over so he was facing the back of the couch.    “Billy.” I pestered, jostling his shoulder, “Hey.”   He groaned again, swatting at my hand,    “If you get up we can make out.” I offered, earning a chorus of 'ewws’ from the kids. But he responded to my offer, getting up off the couch.    “You can’t drive home tonight. Come on.” I told Billy, grabbing his wrist and dragging him into my bedroom. It didn’t take much for me to shove him down onto the bed.    “I don’t want you here in the morning. Got it?” I snapped, “Baby-” “No. If you’re here in the morning, I’ll do much worse damage than the kids did. Understand?” “Yes.”   I turned on my heels, slamming the bedroom door shut behind me. When I returned to the living room, mom had brought out all the extra pillows and blankets in the house and set them on the living room floor. The kids got arranged in their respective spots, saving the space on the couch for Will when he was done in the shower. Steve settled himself on the floor to the side of the kids, burying his face in a pillow. I couldn’t even imagine the headache he was going to wake up to in the morning. Despite the excitement of the evening, the kids all fell asleep rather quickly, all of them slumping over into a heap in the middle of the living room. A tangle of limbs and hair as soft snores escaped their lips. The bathroom door opening made everybody perk up, though. Will emerged in clean PJs with damp hair that clung to his forehead. He smiled at the sight of his friends passed out on the living room floor, stepping around them to get onto the couch. The second his head hit the pillow, the boy was asleep. With everybody home and safe, I too drifted off, feeling relief wash over me for the first time in a year.    

Sirius sending Remus an anonymous valentine, because he’s too scared to expose his feelings but knows Remus deserves love on this holiday. Remus can tell it’s from Sirius by his handwriting (or some other clue!) Thanks darling!

I love this and I hope you like what I did with your prompt.  Thanks for sending it in!

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Valentine’s Day at Hogwarts was always a sight to behold; whether or not you cared for it was a different story. 

The entire castle had been decorated with a red and pink heart motif and the Great Hall looked as if a Cupid himself had decorated it, complete with tiny cherubs floating in the air above the high rafters, occasionally shooting down arrows that would explode in glittering confetti before they reached the students. The confetti, however, covered all of the tables and most of the students.  

It made Remus feel nauseated.

“Ugh this is a bit too much, don’t you think?”

Remus turned to Lily who had sat down next to him at the Gryffindor table.  “You mean you don’t buy into all of this love nonsense?”

Lily shrugged. “Love is all well and good, but these decorations are a bit over the top, don't you think?”

“Well it would be nice not to have to pick the glitter out of my porridge.”

“I think it’s sweet!”  Dorcas supplied, sitting down across from Lily, Marlene sliding in next to her.

“You would, you big sap.” Marlene smiled, grabbing the platter of eggs from in front of Remus and serving both Dorcas and herself.  

Lily smirked. “I heard you both this morning exchanging gifts so I don't think you should mock Dor for being the only sap.”

Marlene rolled her eyes as Dorcas grinned, giving her girlfriend a kiss on the cheek.

“Did someone say something about gifts?”

Remus looked up to see James standing behind Lily, a huge smile on his face as he looked adoringly at his girlfriend of three months.  He presented her with a huge bouquet of flowers he had been hiding behind his back.

“Lilies for my Lily-flower.”

“Oh James, they’re beautiful!”  Lily pressed a chaste kiss to his lips and sat back down making room for him on her other side. “There’s so many different lilies here!”

James grinned. “Ah, but only one Lily is the most beautiful and special. You.”

Even Remus had to smile at that line.  Even though he didn’t enjoy this holiday, he was happy his mate had finally gotten the girl he’d been pining after for over six years.  He watched smiling as Lily blushed and kissed James again, exclaiming that he was too extravagant when he slipped a gold bracelet over her wrist.  

“Ah, young love! How sweet it is!”

Remus looked over at Sirius who had sat down across from him and was making exaggerated gagging motions over James and Lily’s display of affection.

Remus kicked him lightly in the shin. “Let Prongs have his moment, you cynical twat.”

Sirius flashed him a wry grin. “I am not cynical, my dear Moonbeam.  I just think this holiday is a bit overrated, don’t you think?”

Remus shrugged, his stomach clenching as Sirius’ stormy grey eyes met his.  “I guess it’s alright if you’ve got a partner, but I could do without all this confetti raining down.”

“Ah, but maybe Cupid will work his magic on you today, Moony!” Sirius winked. “You never know.”

Remus snorted. “Fat chance.”

He watched Sirius serve himself some breakfast and couldn’t help but fantasize that Sirius’ words would come true, though he was sure they wouldn’t.  Cupid would never be able to give him what his heart really wanted.  Sirius.  

Just then, the post owls swooped in delivering packages, letters and cards all over the Great Hall.  He was surprised when a large barn owl left three cards in front of him.  

“Blimey, Padfoot!  That’s an even bigger haul than last year!”

At Peter’s exclamation, Remus looked across at Sirius and the veritabel mountain of cards and packages owls had dropped in front of him.  Sirius was red-faced at the attention and shrugged it off.

“Just silly birds, you know how it is.” Sirius muttered.  He kept eating his breakfast and didn’t so much as look through his gifts.

Remus raised an eyebrow, perplexed at Sirius’ attitude when last year he had been gloating over all of the cards and love notes.  He’d been on a different date almost every night for the few weeks after Valentine’s that year.  Thinking back though, Remus couldn't even remember the last time Sirius had mentioned going out with a girl in the last few months.  

“Everything alright, Padfoot?” Remus asked softly.

Sirius looked up, his expression guarded. “S’fine.  Just too much nonsense, is all.  But hey, look at you, Moony, you got some admirers too!”  

Remus blushed as their other friends looked over at his cards and teased him to start opening them.  He rolled his eyes, but obliged, tearing open the envelope of the first card.

He blushed as he read the first one and James snatched it out of his hand to read aloud. “Roses are red, violets are blue, I think you’re clever, and sexy too.  Moony, who is Calista Hutchins?”  

His friends laughed and Remus could feel his face get even redder. “She’s a Ravenclaw girl I tutored last semester.”  

He opened the second card and before he could even read it, Peter grabbed it and read the equally silly poem aloud. “Moony, this one’s from that Hufflepuff girl in your Runes class, isn’t it?”

Remus nodded, his cheeks burning from the attention and grabbed the third envelope before his friends could.  He opened it and took out a piece of parchment, turning so he could read it away from his friend’s prying eyes.

“I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz,   or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:   I love you as one loves certain obscure things,   secretly, between the shadow and the soul.I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom but carries   the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself,   and thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose   from the earth lives dimly in my body.I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,   I love you directly without problems or pride:I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,except in this form in which I am not nor are you,   so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,   so close that your eyes close with my dreams.

Remus -  I want you to know that you are loved, today and every day, for who you truly are.”

Remus stared at the slip of parchment for several moments, awestruck, before he realized James was calling his name.  

“Remus, mate!  What’s that one say?” James prodded.

Remus cleared his throat. “More of the same, yeah, just another poem.”

Lily eyed him suspiciously and before Remus could react, she had snatched the parchment from his hand and begun to read it silently.  

“Lily, no!”  Remus tried to grab the poem back, but Lily stood and moved out of his reach still reading silently.  

When she finished reading she turned to Remus, her eyes bright and a soft smile on her face. “Oh Remus...this is beautiful.”

Remus flushed and took the parchment back. “It is and I can’t believe you took it from me.”

Lily placed her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry for that, I thought it was another silly poem, but that’s not silly at all, is it?”

Remus shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.  

“Oi, what’s so special about Remus’ Valentine?” Marlene called out.

“Well, for one, it’s a real love poem and more importantly, someone who knows Pablo Neruda.” Lily explained.

“Who?” James asked, his face twisted in confusion,

“He’s a Chilean poet.” Sirius offered.

They all turned to look at Sirius whose eyes widened at the scrutiny. “What?  I do read, you know?”

Remus sat back down and listened to his friends teasing and joking comments half-heartedly, but his focus was drawn to Sirius. He studied him as covertly as he could manage and was surprised to see how nervous his friend appeared.

Sirius’ cheeks were a bit flushed and he kept biting his lip.  He was engaged in conversation with Marlene and Dorcas, but he kept stealing glances at Remus when he thought he wasn’t looking.  He noticed how fidgety he seemed, his hands constantly moving, his foot tapping against the stone floor.  What clinched it for Remus was the way Sirius’ eyes kept straying to the parchment next to Remus’ plate.

If it hadn’t been for all of the little things leading up to it, Remus may have dismissed it as a prank or even a sweet, but misguided, gesture so Remus wouldn’t feel left out on Valentine’s Day.  However, If he started to add up all the seemingly innocent occurrences that had been niggling the back of his mind for the last two months though - well maybe there was more to it than that.

Remus had harbored a crush on Sirius for well over a year now and had done everything he could to keep it to himself; he knew there was no way Sirius could ever feel the same way.  His friendship was too important for Remus to risk losing, so Remus tried to act as if the mere sight of his best mate didn't set his heart racing.

Over the last couple of months though, Sirius had become more attentive and Remus had to constantly remind himself that he was surely imagining things and reading into his actions more because of his own misguided feelings.  

He tried to tell himself that the lingering touches, the soft smiles, and the way Sirius seemed to be constantly everywhere he was was just his imagination wishing for what he couldn’t have. 

But this was just too much of a coincidence for him to ignore.

He recalled the night a month before when Sirius had plopped himself down on Remus’ bed next to him, complaining he was bored and for Remus to stop reading.  He had asked what was so interesting in his book and Remus had told him he was reading a volume of Pablo Neruda’s poetry. Sirius had scoffed at the thought of poetry and Remus had rolled his eyes and said that maybe one day he would really want to woo a girl and Neruda’s beautiful poetry could help. 

Sirius had rolled his eyes, but maybe - the thought alone had the butterflies in Remus’ stomach dancing.  

It was too great a coincidence though.  He knew there was only one way to find out.

Remus took a deep breath. “Hey Padfoot, want to go back to the tower and drop your haul off before we head to class?”

Sirius met his unwavering gaze and swallowed hard. “Sure, let’s go.”

Remus stood, grabbing his things and nodded to their friends before walking out of the Great Hall, Sirius right behind him.   The hallways were fairly empty as they made their way to Gryffindor tower and Remus decided to show some of the bravery his house was known for.

“You got quite the Valentine haul this year.”

Sirius nudged his arm. “You didn’t do so badly yourself.”

“Yeah, but you never even looked at anything you got.  Why is that?”

“It’s just the same thing every year, so why bother?”

Remus laughed softly. “Tired of all the attention the girls always shower you with?”

“Something like that.” Sirius mumbled.

“You know what’s funny though?” Remus asked. “You and I were just talking about Pablo Neruda last month and now today I get a love letter with some of his poetry in it.  Funny, isn’t it?”

He turned his head slightly and saw Sirius’ eyes widen momentarily. “Yeah, wow, what a coincidence, huh?”

Remus nodded. “They say there’s very few real coincidences in life.”

“Well, this must be one of those!  I mean, who knows how many people in Hogwarts are into Neruda’s sonnets, right?”

Remus stopped and grabbed Sirius’s arm. “Padfoot, you didn’t look at my letter and I never told you it was a sonnet.”

Sirius bit his lip, one eyebrow quirked. “Lucky guess?”

Remus let his arm go and sighed. “You sent me the letter, didn’t you?”

Sirius closed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair.  “Remus, I’m sorry, I -”

Remus cut him off, hurt that the man he was in love with could have so little regard for his feelings. “Did you think it was a good joke?”

“Joke?” Sirius’ face twisted in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Remus shook his head sadly. “Did you think I was so pathetic you had to send me a Valentine as a joke?  Or was it an ego boost so I would think someone actually cared about me?”

Sirius grabbed Remus by the shoulders and met his sorrowful gaze. “Remus, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but that letter wasn’t a joke.  Yeah, I-I wrote it.  But it wasn’t a prank and it wasn’t an ego boost.”

Remus just stared at him, not willing to let himself believe what he so desperately wanted to be true. “I don’t understand.”

Sirius closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, his fingers digging into Remus’ shoulders. “I wrote the letter because I couldn’t tell you how I felt otherwise.  I didn’t want to ruin our friendship if you didn’t feel the same way, but I had to try.  You can tell me to bugger off, you can tell me I’m a ridiculous twat, but I just...I knew you would figure it out with the poem.  I needed to see if there was even the smallest chance -”

Remus cut him off again, this time by pressing his lips to Sirius’.

Sirius responded immediately, his mouth slanting over Remus’, one hand moving from his shoulder to tangle in his tawny curls.  

The kiss was brief, but it was enough to make Remus’ head spin.  He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against Sirius’.  “You are a ridiculous twat, Padfoot.”

Sirius huffed a laugh. “I am, aren't I?”

Remus pressed his lips to Sirius’ once more and pulled back to smile into the dazed grey eyes. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

American Man, Leave Me Be

Most people were insanely excited about their soulmarks. This meant you had somebody who would love you for forever. This was awesome. It made Tony and Steve not feel like absolute terrible people when they looked at their soulmark. Well, for the most part. 

Steve would stare at his as he was lying down on the street, spitting blood out of his mouth and concentrating on not letting Bucky or Ma know that one of his ribs was probably not doing the thing it was supposed to be doing. (Staying in place.) He saw his American bald eagle, beak open and fierce, eyes glinting, and the claws held a blue circle. He thought it was beautiful. (He could swear it was glowing sometimes, just a flicker.) He knew that everything would be okay. That no matter what, there was someone who had the same thing, and everything would be okay. He would come home and love someone and show them his favorite Andrews Sisters song once he could afford to buy a fancy player. 

Except then he went down in the ocean. So he was lying down again, not spitting out blood, but water, desperately trying to wonder if his soulmate would feel pain or not as he died. (Wondering if Fate just gave him a mark to mess with him.) 

Tony Stark is born with a soulmark already attached to his chest. The eagle is wide, looks like a tattoo an army man would have, and Maria cries at her “ruined” boy. Howard shrugs. He has better things to do than theorize about soulmarks. (If he had paid attention to Tony after that, he would’ve realized that he shared something with Steve Rogers. Tony wonders if that would have changed anything.) 

He hates his soulmark. Tony hates soulmarks. They aren’t scientifically explainable, and his is so...large. He can’t flirt with a girl without her finding out he has a soulmate, and their eyes dim. Or the boy who flirts and then disregards him because “I can’t deal with another guy that comes along.” The only person that has a large soulmark is Rhodey, who he meets in college after Rhodey shows up to orientation in a t-shirt and Tony can see a jet with jet stream on his right arm. 

“I’m going into the Air Force,” Rhodey says, grinning. “Figure that has to be a sign or something.” 

“Nice,” Tony says. He lifts up his shirt. “If we’re going by soulmarks, I’ll exclude myself from a capitalistic society, live in a trailer, and quote Roseanne religiously.” Rhodey laughs, and they become friends. 

Despite how badly he wants to, Tony never covers the soulmark. Why should he? By the time he’s twenty-four, he hasn’t met them. Most, around seventy percent, meet theirs by their twenty-second birthday. Tony thought he met his when Pepper walks into the building with enough fury and words to make his heart skip a beat. (It would never work out.) 

It’s still there in Afghanistan. When some of it gets the little most etched in the reactor. When he understands what the eagle is holding. When he decides that he’s absolutely wrecked for anyone who wants him. 

He doesn’t pay attention to Steve Rogers on first meeting. Clint mutters something that sounds vaguely like “sexual tension,” but Tony just focuses on the suit. Rogers already thinks he’s a giant screw-up, just like Howard, so what’s the point? Besides, he’s not there to prove himself to a blonde guy with some serious adjustment issues. (God, why did SHIELD sign him up for the team? He’s obviously not read--stop it, Tony. You don’t care.) Tony is there because he’s a consultant. 

They start living together. Tony shies away from any interaction outside of doing the lab thing with Bruce, snarking with Clint, and making one-off comments about “why doesn’t Nat kill me already?” (It has to happen at some point, right? Right?) 

He starts getting more comfortable after he sees Steve in the library. He brought some of his favorite books along to New York, or copies at least. Steve is staring at a history book, at everything he’s ever missed. 

“You know, some of this happened less than a year ago,” he says, voice choked with tension and the need to be strong. Tony knows. 

“I know it doesn’t compare to seventy years, but I got kidnapped for three months,” Tony says, nonchalantly. Steve’s head whips around, eyes the picture perfect of guilt. “Oh, don’t pull that face. You were in ice for seventy years. On the bright side, you haven’t witnessed the horror that is ‘Achy Breaky Heart’ by Billy Ray Cyrus. But I can understand a little bit of the gap. It’s terrifying right? Not knowing everything that went on. I bet your’e still amazed by half the things.” Steve nods. 

“It’s like I’ve never lived,” Steve says. “I...read about myself. I’m still mad that someone misspelled my name as ‘Stephen’ and no one corrected it for ten years.” (Tony does not mention that he was the one who corrected it in a long and drawn out legal battle that bears no repeating but this is also why he’s friends with the best lawyer in New York, Jennifer Walters.) 

“You’ll get used to it,” Tony says. “I’ll help you along the way, okay Rogers? Don’t worry, you won’t go through this alone.” He pauses with a wince. “Ugh, I sound like a Hallmark card.” Steve laughs. 

He doesn’t see the soulmark until Tony trips down the stairs because Dum-E was apparently making “distress” sounds. 

“What does my kid want!?” He asks blearily. And Steve sees it. It’s hard not to. It’s big, loud, and gaudy. It’s what he would think Tony Stark would want if he didn’t know what he was actually like. Tony hated large displays of affection that he didn’t authorize. This definitely covered it. 

“Sir, I believe Dum-E dropped his cup, and was upset to find that it slid under the couch,” Jarvis answers. Tony rolls his eyes. 

“He does realize he can’t drink anything, right? And why was he distressed? He loses stuff under the couch all the time. He lost his translator under the couch that one time.” 

“It appears that Steven Rogers has gotten stuck,” Jarvis says, amusedly. Tony stares at Steve, who is wearing a white t-shirt and sweatpants that are too short because the idiot refuses to have nice-fitting clothes and there it is. The eagle. 

“Well.” Steve sits up. There’s the cup. It’s annoyingly neon yellow. “This complicates things, doesn’t it?” 

“Your kid has terrible taste in cups,” Steve answers. “But yeah.” They don’t talk for a couple minutes. “I didn’t think I had a soulmate anymore.” Tony snorts. 

“I thought my soulmate just avoided me at all costs.” 

“I would never do that,” Steve says. “You’re pretty.” 

“Did you just call me ‘pretty’?” Tony says, eyebrows raised. 

“Yes?” Steve says. “What, am I not allowed to say ‘pretty’ anymore?” 

“No, just wasn’t expecting that compliment. Thank you Steve.” Steve nods. “Do you even think that you want me as a soulmate.” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” He says it like it’s so simple and finite. Like it should be honestly simple, they’re soulmates. 

“Steve, I don’t know if you know this, but I’m a bastard. I’m self-sacrificing, I’m selfish, and I have a hard time letting go of things.” 

“You’re talking to a guy who jumped out of a plane alone,” Steve says, snorting. “I think we’re both stubborn and selfish and don’t let go of things easily.” Tony shrugs. That’s actually...accurate. 

This is how Bruce finds them on the couch and then sees the small one and the large one. 

"Well, that explains a lot,” he mutters. 

Tony and Steve actually fit quite well together. They start communicating effectively, and Tony even teases him about the soulmark. “The angry bald eagle isn’t me,” Tony says. Steve rolls his eyes. 

“Oh sure, as if anyone else would’ve picked such an angry looking bird.” 

“Steve, I know for a fact that small-You was made of rage and rage only.” Steve sighs. “You know I’m right!” Steve smiles before pressing a kiss to his soulmate’s hand. Tony is such a sucker for the small things. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Steve says finally. Tony smiles, serving him a plate of bacon, eggs, pancakes, and a bowl of fruit. 

“Finish up breakfast, I want to be early to the press conference so I can make fun of the guy from that Daily Globe page or whatever.” 

They kinda love each other. 

Just a little bit. 

(Not like they’re soulmates or any--OH WAIT) 

@starsandsupernovae thank u 

Resource Management, pt27

Word Count: 2507 Tags: @supermoonpanda @rayleyanns @sistasarah-sallysaidso @feelmyroarrrr @anyakinamidala @dirajunara @little-study-bug @rampant-salamander @goodnightwife @samaxraph99 @anotherotter  @outside-the-government @kingarthurscat @coyote-in-space @originalpottervengerlock @dolamrothianlady @curiositywillbethedeathofme @superheroesofbothuniverses @mtriestowrite @wanderingkat77

Author’s note: WELCOME TO CANADA!!

“Barbie Broughton? Are you fucking kidding me? Barbie? Really?” I looked at the ID. My face, and the horrible name. Colonel Rhodes had made me a captain though. That wasn’t too bad.

“It was the best I could do on short notice, Annie,” Tony rolled his eyes.

“You named me Barbie, Tony! I hope no one pulls me over,” I muttered. Colonel Rhodes leaned against the counter, watching me serve dinner.

“You’ll have to use it to check into hotels, sign credit card slips. Decide now how you want to be addressed.” He stole a wing from the plate.

“Ugh. I suppose Barbara will have to do,” I sighed.

“Think of this as an adventure, Annie.” Tony traded me a fresh beer for his dinner plate. We settled in for dinner. I steered the conversation away from everything wrong in the world, and instead we talked about the sights I was bound to be able to see on my drive. Despite having grown up in Canada, I’d never strayed too far from home before leaving to work for SHIELD. I was looking forward to seeing so much of country.

Pepper arrived and joined us for dinner. She had left a huge pile of shopping bags in the hallways. I soon learned everything there was intended for me. It was too much, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She wanted my cover so thorough and complete that I wasn’t to touch my own things until I was settled in at Tony’s cabin. She went through each bag with me carefully. The woman had impeccable taste. She’d even bought me a Lulu Lemon sweatshirt, saying she saw a lot more of it when she was in Canada than she did elsewhere. I’d never been able to justify the extravagance of Lulu Lemon before, and pulled the sweatshirt on right away. I tucked the rest of the new clothes into the new bags she had purchased for me, and zipped them closed. Tony met me in the hallway and held out a messenger bag.

“What’s this?”

“You need to leave your laptop behind. This is a new one. I’ve left some notes and directions on it. For checking in with me, and the like. No porn, Annie. Here is your new shiny credit card. There’s $500 in cash in the front pocket of the bag. Have you got a gun?” He held out the credit card. I slipped it into the wallet that Pepper had bought me. Again, the woman had impeccable taste.

“I’m going to Canada, Tony, there’s laws about hand guns,” I argued.

“You need a gun. Don’t tell me you don’t have one.” His tone was sharp.

“Alright, yes. My super gave me his service revolver.” I dug into the shoulder bag and pulled it out.

“Ammo?” He asked. I dug out the two boxes of bullets that Bob had handed me. Tony opened them up to check and started laughing. He shook one of the boxes and a roll of bills slid out. It had to be at least a thousand dollars.

“Oh my god!” I gasped, “That man deserves to be sainted. He couldn’t afford to give me that! Tony, you have to make sure he gets it back.”

“Of course.” He nodded and put aside the one box. “You’re going to need extra ammo. I’ll get someone to meet us at the airport with it.”

“I suppose I need to get comfortable with this, don’t I?” I swallowed back my nerves.

“Time is wasting, Annie. Let’s get going.” He gestured toward the elevator and followed me down the hall, dragging my suitcase behind him.

When I was a kid, my dad had always called Toronto ‘The Big Smoke’. I don’t know where it came from, and I knew about 4 other cities that also boasted the nickname, but whenever anyone said it, I always thought of Toronto. My mum had always called it Hogtown, and I grew up calling it T.O., which, when I googled it as an adult, I learned was a generational thing. Any way you looked at it, Toronto was a big, sprawling metropolitan mess. It was bigger than Vancouver, not as pretty, but definitely more famous. From my view, out the wing window of the Stark Industries jet, it looked like another big city to get lost in. I hoped for a GPS in whatever vehicle Pepper had arranged for me.

“Okay, Annie, it’s showtime. Let’s get the suit on.” Tony gestured to the back of the cabin. I followed him to the open space before the galley. He put down what looked like a red and gold suitcase and tapped it with his toe. I assumed that I should starfish, and I was glad I did. The suit snapped onto me, battering me in the process. It was not built for a woman, let alone a woman with my bust. My chest felt tight, and I immediately had issues breathing.

“Tony, I don’t know if this is going to work. I can hardly breathe. It’s crushing my boobs,” I was a little breathless. He bit back a smirk and tapped at the tablet he was holding. The suit loosened just enough that I didn’t feel like I might collapse from lack of oxygen.

“Let me know where else is bothering you. Still sore from your roll down the freeway?” He watched the suit clicking into place with a critical eye, looking down every few seconds to tap something into the tablet. It always resulted in immediate relief from something pinching me.

“Am I still going to look like Iron Man in this? Because if you keep letting out seams to accommodate my lady parts, I’m going to look like Iron Vixen,” I commented when the chestplate loosened again. Pepper snorted into the back of her hand. Tony pursed his lips and squinted.

“If you jet off as quick as you can, no one will really notice.”

“This assumes I can figure out how to make your damn suit work,” I laughed.

“I’ve got J.A.R.V.I.S. set to autopilot you. You just need to put your hands at your sides, and everything will go to plan. There’s coordinates set for the Stark Industries plant, which is where we will meet you,” he explained.

“And you think the Stark Industries plant is safe?” I asked. I was worried it would be being watched.

“It’s a calculated risk, Annie. We have to hope we’re not being watched,” Pepper offered. The helmet and mask snapped onto my head and I had a moment of panic and claustrophobia before the heads-up display flashed on, and J.A.R.V.I.S. started talking to me. I saw Tony and Pepper sit back down for the landing, and tried to brace myself, thinking I might topple over. But the suit was pretty awesome and the pilot was exceptionally smooth. When the plane taxied to a stop, Pepper signaled to me to follow her to the door. When the door opened, she nodded and J.A.R.V.I.S. took over, flying me out of the airport’s airspace at a low altitude that wouldn’t interfere with the planes. J.A.R.V.I.S. informed me that the pilot had received clearance for us to fly away. The sensation of flying in the Iron Man suit was not what I was expecting at all. I think we all have that dream about the air rushing through your hair, and lightness and freedom. I felt like I was in a steel prison. The only way I knew I was moving was by watching the world pass by below me. It was surreal.

Tony had bought me a Jeep Cherokee. Correction. Tony had bought Barbie Broughton a Jeep Cherokee. Thankfully, it wasn’t a brand new one. It was stocked with a bunch of camping gear, and was in exactly the right condition for a road trip: just a little beat up on the exterior, but tuned impeccably in the engine.

“Annie, promise me you won’t take any stupid risks. I have enough to worry about with him,” Pepper placed a hand on my arm. “And think about dyeing your hair tonight. Just to be safe.”

“Cross my heart, Pepper. Thank you so much,” I threw my arms around her impulsively. She took a short step back before returning the hug. Tony put his arms around both of us and squeezed his way in between us somehow.

“Can you blame me for wanting to be the meat in the sandwich?” He asked when we pushed him away. I shook my head, and pulled him close.

“I can’t even put into words, Tony. I never thought in a million years you would be this good, decent and kind. Thank you so much.”

“Stop, I’ll cry,” he teased. “The GPS in the Jeep will get you where you are going. J.A.R.V.I.S. is linked to it and to your laptop. You have your own encrypted hotspot for internet. Don’t pick up hitchhikers, and don’t linger too long anywhere. You’re on leave after a tour in Iraq, so you aren’t going to waste time getting to your family’s cabin in BC to get away from the world. And Pepper’s right. Think about hair colour. I’m fond of red myself.”

“I got it, Dad.” I winked at Pepper. Tony put the keys in my hand and gave me one last look before sighing and turning back to the building. I climbed into the Jeep, plugged in the iPod he’d handed me with the keys and turned the engine over. AC/DC came blasting through the speakers and I smiled. It was going to be a long drive, but I was finally on my way.

Northern Ontario was the longest, dullest, most horrible stretch of road I’d ever had the bad luck of driving. There was nothing to see, except trees as far as the eye could see. I might have enjoyed it more, but I was trying to cover as much ground as I could before I stopped. In a perfect world, where I wasn’t worried about HYDRA and Garrett, I would have stopped at Sault Ste Marie, but it was just too close to the border. I wound up stopping in Sudbury for some supplies early in the drive, but then I drove until I couldn’t focus on the road anymore, and wound up in a tiny town called Marathon. I found a hotel and crashed for the night. I think I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. In the morning, after checking in my email with Tony and sending him a photo of the giant nickel in Sudbury, I walked over to the hair salon.

“Good morning!” There was a single woman in the shop. She was probably in her late twenties, and she had a welcoming smile. It was reassuring. “What can I help you with?”

“If you have an appointment available, I’m looking for a new look,” I started.

“I can fit you in right now. What are you thinking?”

“I’d like to try a different colour, go shorter.” I took a deep breath. I was pretty attached to my two-inches-past-regulation hair.

“Bad break up?” She asked, giving me a sympathetic look.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Well, honey, let’s start by washing that man out of your hair,” she pointed at the sink. I followed her over and let her go to work. I was worried that the only hair salon in a town of 3000 people on the Canadian Shield was a tragedy waiting to happen. She cut my hair shorter than I would have liked, but in the end, once I washed all the product out of it, I thought I would be quite happy with the cut. It would still go into a ponytail, and she’d given me flowy layers around my face that softened my cheekbones and jaw. I’d suggested a chestnut brown, and despite my best effort to stick to my guns, she eventually convinced me that going brunette would be too stark against my pale skin. I wound up a strawberry blonde that was eerily reminiscent of Pepper’s hair colour. I wasn’t going to tell Tony.

“I love it,” I admitted with complete honesty.

“A little less Barbie now, wouldn’t you say? You must get that all the time,” the hairdresser laughed.

“I do,” I admitted with a sigh, “maybe I should have gone red a long time ago.”

“Well, you’re red now, and no one is going to call you Barbie for a good long time.” I left a sizeable tip and found the coffee shop before hitting the road again.

It took me two days to drive out of Ontario. I stopped in Kenora overnight, and sent Tony a picture of the giant fish that was the highlight of Kenora’s roadside. I was completely astonished to blow through all of Manitoba the next day, landing for the night in Saskatchewan. It was so incredibly flat, I was reasonably sure I could already see the Rockies. I couldn’t, of course, but I felt like I could. The Timbits in Saskatchewan were significantly better than the ones I’d had in New York, and I felt like I wanted to tell someone, but I stopped myself from sharing with the old guys sitting beside me at the Tim Horton’s in Yorkton. They didn’t look like HYDRA, they looked like old dude farmers, but I didn’t want to risk it.

I sent a quick email to Tony updating him of my location, and let him know I expected to be on the road for another two days at least. If I were lucky, it would only be two more days. I’d had too many close calls to want to stop for longer than a quick stop for a toilet and cup of coffee. It was killing me to stay more than a few hours a night at a hotel, and I found that I was napping in rest stops quite a bit to compensate for my habit of leaving as the sun rose. It would be good to get to my destination. Double-checking the map was a double-edged sword. Tony’s cabin, which I was sure was not so much a cabin as a palace in the woods run on an ARC reactor, was less than two hours from my mother’s house. From my childhood home. In my hometown. That I had to drive through to get to his cabin.

I hadn’t been home in ten years, but my hometown wasn’t a vast sprawling city like Toronto or Vancouver. It was a small city that prided itself on small city culture. If I ran into one person who recognized me, the whole cloak and dagger routine would be blown, and HYDRA would know exactly where I was. With my current luck, there were probably already HYDRA thugs in town waiting for me.

Amor Proibido [ii]

“You have to learn the rules of the game. And then you have to play better than anyone else-” Albert Einstein.

What does being happy even mean to me anymore? This is supposed to be the start of writing stories which will shape my career, but this kid is getting under my skin. He tells me he just wants to be happy, and I realize I am not even sure what it means to myself.

My life is supposed to be the most fantastic thing in the world right now… but sometimes I just feel really fucking empty inside. I don’t have the right words to coherently express my unhappiness. However, this isn’t about me. I have to ask this pop star about his music, attend a concert, and write my story.

I don’t need to think about the way I would not mind tracing my fingers over the tattoo on his forearm and softly grasping those arm muscles. Because holy hell, this boy is built like a brick house. All these thoughts are racing through my mind, but my face remains impassive because this is just a job.

Shawn leans over placing his hand on the recording device and clicking it off. Just like that. He does it boldly, his eyes never leaving mine as though daring me to stop him. He acts like he can just get whatever he wants, and it kind of pisses me off.

I snatch the recorder from his hand, eyes glaring, “What the fuck is your problem? You should want me to interview you because a ton of girls will want to fuck you after reading this article. You’ll be even more famous. Isn’t that what you want?”

Hazel eyes bore into mine. “I want to fuck you.”

Preliminary interview complete. However, I still have two more days of dealing with this utter shitstorm I can I tell is just brewing. I keep playing the audio of the interview, trying to make it match with my notes. But I can’t fucking think straight. What the hell am I supposed to write about when all I keep returning to is the way he looked at me the whole time.

“…some of my musical inspirations include Ed Sheeran and Niall Horan…” his voice filters through my big, empty hotel room and I just really need to take a few hours to decompress. Then I can deal with this weird tension Shawn is causing between us, and I can just get this over with and return to my real life. It is just one article/ I don’t need to act like it is going to make or break the rest of my life.

Shutting off the recorder, I stand up and walk over to the window. I could probably just take some time to go out to eat so I am away from this place, but I don’t want to run the risk of seeing Shawn. Not that he would do anything when they were other people around, but I would just paranoid the whole time.

He told me he wanted to fuck me. I mean… I am not sure who the fuck this kid thinks he is. You don’t say those words to a person who is interviewing you for one of the most predominant music magazines in the world. It would be a surefire way to start a scandal and fuck up his own career. But kid is smart. He turned off the recorder and just said it to me. No one knows except the two of us. Shawn has plausible deniability because he is fucking pop star, and no one would believe me just because of my gender. What a fair world we reside in.

My phone starts to ring causing me my thoughts to pull back to the present. Alright. All I need to do is make it through the next few days, and I will never need to see him again. Simple.

Brice calling.

No. No. No. Fuck. Are you serious?

I have been here four hours, not even. And my boss is calling me. What the fuck. Okay, stay calm.

I can just say I was out having dinner and call him back later. It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything is fine. My life isn’t falling apart at all. Stay. Calm. My phone ceases to ring, anxiety loosening its grip in my chest. And then it starts once again when his name shows up on the display again. Fuck my whole life.

"Hello,“ I say, sounding false chipper and hoping he isn’t going to tell me I am fired. Oh, my god. I can’t breathe.

“I knew you would answer if I called a second time. You should probably not avoid the guy who makes sure you get paid,” he teases. “But I am calling for a reason. We need press release previews for the interview ASAP. So if you could just send those over tonight, that would be amazing.”

I let out a long groan because this is just my fucking luck. “What the fuck? I haven’t even been here long enough to unpack and you want like three pieces of writing by tonight?” I almost scream at him, feeling the anxiety start to settle heavy on my chest.

“This is a big interview. I told you that. You knew the deal when you agreed. I am not asking you to write the whole fucking thing tonight. We just need a few snippets to get everyone excited.” He pauses, adding, “Shawn’s manager asked us to do it since his concert is tomorrow night. He said Shawn was really impressed. You did well, you know.”

I rub the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger, trying to combat the mixed feelings I am dealing with right now. I am supposed to write a whole lot of bullshit to make some other people happy, but he just said Shawn was impressed with me. Why does this make my heart skip a beat? Ugh. “Great,” I retort dryly, “I will just take that great impression and use it to write some press releases when all I wanted to do was relax because I have been working non stop the past week.”

“You need to get these written as soon as you can. The press is already badgering us to find out what you are going to say. Shawn normally doesn’t give interviews as often as his fans want so this is a fucking huge deal for everyone involved. And he is just a kid, how difficult can he be?”

I hold back laughter because Brice has no idea at all. “Yeah, ha ha ha,” I say and let out a sigh. Pretty sure I am using up my sigh quota for the year today alone. “I will just get started on that right now.” I hang up the phone and throw it down on the couch, squelching the urge to let out a primal scream.

This whole fucking this is horrible. I was supposed to be able to just write the article and be on the way to having an awesome writing career. This is way more stress than I should have for a kid. Just a kid. Shawn Mendes is a fucking evil kid who knows how to get under your skin with those stupid eyes and those curls and that stupid voice.

I want to fuck you. Who the hell says that to someone they just met? This is not a fucking porno. This is my life and career. It must be nice he can do whatever the fuck he wants without any repercussions, but I actually have a real life to return to.

Fuck everything. I sit down on the couch, pulling my laptop over to me and trying to find the words everyone is going to want to hear about the apparently not difficult at all kid, Shawn Mendes.

Three hours later, I send off my pieces to Brice and shut my laptop. I am fucking exhausted, and I just want to crawl into bed. But I am also starving. Too lazy to leave to get food, I decide I am going to venture down the hall to the vending machines and have a junk food feast for one. It will help make this shitty day a little less so. I just need sugar and carbs galore.

Not caring I am wearing a faded tank top and kind of small pajama shorts, I grab my wallet and key card to make my trip. The hall is deserted, making it seem like I am the only person in the hotel. All the better because I don’t want anyone seeing how much of a mess I look after putting in more work tonight than I wanted to.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

I spin around and gasp, seeing Shawn poke his head out of his room and looking at me with a smirk. His eyes travel down my body, taking in my outfit and he looks me in the eyes a moment later.

“Fuck off,” I say with a sigh and stare longingly at the vending machines I am still so far away from.

He is shirtless, curls abound. He is wearing only a pair of faded grey sweatpants, low slung on his hips. I can see every muscle in his body and he even has one of those v cuts which leads down to… nowhere. Fuck. Why the fuck does a nineteen year old kid like him look so much older? Not that I am noticing that much, but it is hard to miss when it is right in my face.

He chuckles. “Are you hungry?” he asks.

I roll my eyes. “I am not interested in eating your dick if that is what you’re offering. Earlier was more than enough, thanks. I just want to get some junk food and then eat alone in my room. Thanks.”

His mouth opens and closes, like he is shocked by my comment. “I…no, I was asking because I ordered a pizza and I still have some left over. Plus the mini bar is stocked full of drinks so…” He shrugs. “You are welcome to come in if you feel like it.” He steps aside, creating a path for me to walk away.

I tilt my head, wondering if this is a trap. “I am not going to sleep with you.”

“I am asking if you want some pizza, that’s all.” He gestures for me to come inside.

Too tired to argue, I relent and find myself sitting next to Shawn on the couch with a pizza between us. He seems more relaxed now. There is a random movie playing in the background, but I notice he still keeps sneaking glances at me when he thinks I won’t notice. It is probably because he thinks I am a big nerd for wearing a Harry Potter shirt.

“You keep staring at me,” I tell him, finishing off my first slice of pizza and reaching for the bottled water on the table. Taking a sip, I notice he is smiling. And he has a nice smile. If you simply take into account how he looks, he is very pleasing to look at. He just lacks a good personality, I guess.

“I love Harry Potter,” he replies, softly tracing the decal on the tank top for a second. “Is that a problem?”

“I already said I am not going to sleep with you.” I smack his hand away, pointing to him with my water bottle. “You need to stop acting like I am going to fall for your charms just because I am a woman. That is a fucked up archaic notion all males need to stop. Just because you are a man doesn’t mean all women are going to be interested. I could be a lesbian for all you know.”

He just stares at me before he starts laughing really hard. I freeze, not sure what is going on. He laughs for a long moment before finally stopping and saying, “You should be the one who stops. You keep thinking every action on my part means I want to sleep with you. I know how to be nice as well. It is why I offered you pizza. If I wanted to truly sleep with you, I wouldn’t be offering you pizza. I would be showing up at your hotel room and making you mine.”

The way he looks at me when he says it. Oh, fuck. I can’t breathe and the tingling between my legs is more apparent. FUCK. My body is betraying me in the worst way possible. The way he said he would make me his actually turned me on, but I am not going to let it show. But oh, my god. Those words alone are ones I could touch myself to for days and never have a problem having an orgasm. It is just the way he speaks with conviction. Plus, his voice may be a little bit sexy when he lowers it and tries to be more fucking hot than he has a right to be.

“My boss said you were impressed with me,” I choke out. Trying to change the subject and crossing my legs subtly, I want to know what he said. “It��s funny how you could not even mention that to me at all before I left.”

He shrugs, picking up a piece of pizza and taking a bite. What the fuck. Even the way he eats is attractive. That is more fucked up than it should be.

I glare waiting for him to say something. I can’t understand how he can be so hot and cold with me. I mean, yeah I am doing the same thing. But this is my job. He should be wanting to stay on my good side since I am going to be writing about him. Instead he is getting further and further under my skin. Ugh.

“The last person who interviewed me worked for like MTV right?” he says, finishing up his pizza and wiping his face with a napkin. He chuckles sweetly. “And she was nice. We got along. But she had this idea in her head we were going to start dating. Don’t get me wrong, she was nice. But I was not interested. Nothing happened, I swear. But she told everyone we fucked like a whole lot of times and that she had to stop me from falling in love with her. When I was the one who said no to her. Still she told everyone how I was just madly in love with her, and I just… fucking drama is the last thing I need.”

I don’t reply because I am not sure what to say. This is Shawn just opening up to me as a person. It surprises me because most famous people know to keep their mouths shut around the press. Maybe he knows I won’t say anything since I kept his earlier comment to myself, and I am in my fucking pajamas. Plus, this kid seems like he is trying to be sincere so the last thing I want to do is betray his trust the way this woman did. Not that I care about him, but I do care about my career a lot.

“Don’t get me wrong. I fuck a lot of women on tour. Not like teenage fans or anything, but it is not like I am a saint. But it kind of pisses me off when someone thinks they can just use me to get what they want. I like you though because you don’t care what I think. You just want to do your job, and I get that because that is how I feel about my music…but there is just something about you that…”

He leans in, pushing a stray lock of hair away from my face. “You’re beautiful.”

I can’t breathe. His face is so close to mine if I just leaned my head the right way…

His eyes are looking into mine and neither of us are speaking.

This can’t fucking happen. It-

Shawn presses his lips against mine, and I almost relent. But I can’t. This is my career. I can’t just…

I tense up, placing a hand against his chest and pulling away. “I have to go,” i mumble, running out of the room without looking back.

When I get back to my own room, I fall down onto the bed and try not to lose my shit. That kid just fucking kissed me and I let him for the briefest moment. Fuck. I am going to ruin everything.

My phone vibrates, stopping my thoughts. Taking a deep breath, I answer.

The voice on the line says, “Hi, babe, how are you?”

It’s Landon, my fiance.

God, I am so fucked.

Amor Proibido [ii]

“You have to learn the rules of the game. And then you have to play better than anyone else-” Albert Einstein. 

 What does being happy even mean to me anymore? This is supposed to be the start of writing stories which will shape my career, but this kid is getting under my skin. He tells me he just wants to be happy, and I realize I am not even sure what it means to myself. 

My life is supposed to be the most fantastic thing in the world right now… but sometimes I just feel really fucking empty inside. I don’t have the right words to coherently express my unhappiness. However, this isn’t about me. I have to ask this pop star about his music, attend a concert, and write my story.

 I don’t need to think about the way I would not mind tracing my fingers over the tattoo on his forearm and softly grasping those arm muscles. Because holy hell, this boy is built like a brick house. All these thoughts are racing through my mind, but my face remains impassive because this is just a job. 

 Shawn leans over placing his hand on the recording device and clicking it off. Just like that. He does it boldly, his eyes never leaving mine as though daring me to stop him. He acts like he can just get whatever he wants, and it kind of pisses me off. 

I snatch the recorder from his hand, eyes glaring, “What the fuck is your problem? You should want me to interview you because a ton of girls will want to fuck you after reading this article. You’ll be even more famous. Isn’t that what you want?”

Hazel eyes bore into mine. “I want to fuck you.”

Preliminary interview complete. However, I still have two more days of dealing with this utter shitstorm I can I tell is just brewing. I keep playing the audio of the interview, trying to make it match with my notes. But I can’t fucking think straight. What the hell am I supposed to write about when all I keep returning to is the way he looked at me the whole time.

“…some of my musical inspirations include Ed Sheeran and Niall Horan…” his voice filters through my big, empty hotel room and I just really need to take a few hours to decompress. Then I can deal with this weird tension Shawn is causing between us, and I can just get this over with and return to my real life. It is just one article/ I don’t need to act like it is going to make or break the rest of my life. 

Shutting off the recorder, I stand up and walk over to the window. I could probably just take some time to go out to eat so I am away from this place, but I don’t want to run the risk of seeing Shawn. Not that he would do anything when they were other people around, but I would just paranoid the whole time.

He told me he wanted to fuck me. I mean… I am not sure who the fuck this kid thinks he is. You don’t say those words to a person who is interviewing you for one of the most predominant music magazines in the world. It would be a surefire way to start a scandal and fuck up his own career. But kid is smart. He turned off the recorder and just said it to me. No one knows except the two of us. Shawn has plausible deniability because he is fucking pop star, and no one would believe me just because of my gender. What a fair world we reside in. 

My phone starts to ring causing me my thoughts to pull back to the present. Alright. All I need to do is make it through the next few days, and I will never need to see him again. Simple.

 Brice calling. 

 No. No. No. Fuck. Are you serious?

 I have been here four hours, not even. And my boss is calling me. What the fuck. Okay, stay calm.

 I can just say I was out having dinner and call him back later. It's fine. I'm fine. Everything is fine. My life isn't falling apart at all. Stay. Calm. My phone ceases to ring, anxiety loosening its grip in my chest. And then it starts once again when his name shows up on the display again. Fuck my whole life.

 "Hello," I say, sounding false chipper and hoping he isn't going to tell me I am fired. Oh, my god. I can't breathe.

“I knew you would answer if I called a second time. You should probably not avoid the guy who makes sure you get paid,” he teases. “But I am calling for a reason. We need press release previews for the interview ASAP. So if you could just send those over tonight, that would be amazing.”

I let out a long groan because this is just my fucking luck. “What the fuck? I haven’t even been here long enough to unpack and you want like three pieces of writing by tonight?” I almost scream at him, feeling the anxiety start to settle heavy on my chest. 

“This is a big interview. I told you that. You knew the deal when you agreed. I am not asking you to write the whole fucking thing tonight. We just need a few snippets to get everyone excited.” He pauses, adding, “Shawn’s manager asked us to do it since his concert is tomorrow night. He said Shawn was really impressed. You did well, you know.”

I rub the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger, trying to combat the mixed feelings I am dealing with right now. I am supposed to write a whole lot of bullshit to make some other people happy, but he just said Shawn was impressed with me. Why does this make my heart skip a beat? Ugh. “Great,” I retort dryly, “I will just take that great impression and use it to write some press releases when all I wanted to do was relax because I have been working non stop the past week.”

“You need to get these written as soon as you can. The press is already badgering us to find out what you are going to say. Shawn normally doesn’t give interviews as often as his fans want so this is a fucking huge deal for everyone involved. And he is just a kid, how difficult can he be?”

I hold back laughter because Brice has no idea at all. “Yeah, ha ha ha,” I say and let out a sigh. Pretty sure I am using up my sigh quota for the year today alone. “I will just get started on that right now.” I hang up the phone and throw it down on the couch, squelching the urge to let out a primal scream.

This whole fucking this is horrible. I was supposed to be able to just write the article and be on the way to having an awesome writing career. This is way more stress than I should have for a kid. Just a kid. Shawn Mendes is a fucking evil kid who knows how to get under your skin with those stupid eyes and those curls and that stupid voice. 

I want to fuck you. Who the hell says that to someone they just met? This is not a fucking porno. This is my life and career. It must be nice he can do whatever the fuck he wants without any repercussions, but I actually have a real life to return to. 

Fuck everything. I sit down on the couch, pulling my laptop over to me and trying to find the words everyone is going to want to hear about the apparently not difficult at all kid, Shawn Mendes.

Three hours later, I send off my pieces to Brice and shut my laptop. I am fucking exhausted, and I just want to crawl into bed. But I am also starving. Too lazy to leave to get food, I decide I am going to venture down the hall to the vending machines and have a junk food feast for one. It will help make this shitty day a little less so. I just need sugar and carbs galore. 

Not caring I am wearing a faded tank top and kind of small pajama shorts, I grab my wallet and key card to make my trip. The hall is deserted, making it seem like I am the only person in the hotel. All the better because I don’t want anyone seeing how much of a mess I look after putting in more work tonight than I wanted to. 

“Fancy seeing you here.”

I spin around and gasp, seeing Shawn poke his head out of his room and looking at me with a smirk. His eyes travel down my body, taking in my outfit and he looks me in the eyes a moment later. 

“Fuck off,” I say with a sigh and stare longingly at the vending machines I am still so far away from. 

He is shirtless, curls abound. He is wearing only a pair of faded grey sweatpants, low slung on his hips. I can see every muscle in his body and he even has one of those v cuts which leads down to... nowhere. Fuck. Why the fuck does a nineteen year old kid like him look so much older? Not that I am noticing that much, but it is hard to miss when it is right in my face.

He chuckles. “Are you hungry?” he asks.

I roll my eyes. “I am not interested in eating your dick if that is what you’re offering. Earlier was more than enough, thanks. I just want to get some junk food and then eat alone in my room. Thanks.”

His mouth opens and closes, like he is shocked by my comment. “I...no, I was asking because I ordered a pizza and I still have some left over. Plus the mini bar is stocked full of drinks so...” He shrugs. “You are welcome to come in if you feel like it.” He steps aside, creating a path for me to walk away.

I tilt my head, wondering if this is a trap. “I am not going to sleep with you.”

“I am asking if you want some pizza, that’s all.” He gestures for me to come inside. 

Too tired to argue, I relent and find myself sitting next to Shawn on the couch with a pizza between us. He seems more relaxed now. There is a random movie playing in the background, but I notice he still keeps sneaking glances at me when he thinks I won’t notice. It is probably because he thinks I am a big nerd for wearing a Harry Potter shirt.

“You keep staring at me,” I tell him, finishing off my first slice of pizza and reaching for the bottled water on the table. Taking a sip, I notice he is smiling. And he has a nice smile. If you simply take into account how he looks, he is very pleasing to look at. He just lacks a good personality, I guess. 

“I love Harry Potter,” he replies, softly tracing the decal on the tank top for a second. “Is that a problem?”

“I already said I am not going to sleep with you.” I smack his hand away, pointing to him with my water bottle. “You need to stop acting like I am going to fall for your charms just because I am a woman. That is a fucked up archaic notion all males need to stop. Just because you are a man doesn’t mean all women are going to be interested. I could be a lesbian for all you know.”

He just stares at me before he starts laughing really hard. I freeze, not sure what is going on. He laughs for a long moment before finally stopping and saying, “You should be the one who stops. You keep thinking every action on my part means I want to sleep with you. I know how to be nice as well. It is why I offered you pizza. If I wanted to truly sleep with you, I wouldn’t be offering you pizza. I would be showing up at your hotel room and making you mine.”

The way he looks at me when he says it. Oh, fuck. I can’t breathe and the tingling between my legs is more apparent. FUCK. My body is betraying me in the worst way possible. The way he said he would make me his actually turned me on, but I am not going to let it show. But oh, my god. Those words alone are ones I could touch myself to for days and never have a problem having an orgasm. It is just the way he speaks with conviction. Plus, his voice may be a little bit sexy when he lowers it and tries to be more fucking hot than he has a right to be.

“My boss said you were impressed with me,” I choke out. Trying to change the subject and crossing my legs subtly, I want to know what he said. “It’s funny how you could not even mention that to me at all before I left.”

He shrugs, picking up a piece of pizza and taking a bite. What the fuck. Even the way he eats is attractive. That is more fucked up than it should be.

I glare waiting for him to say something. I can’t understand how he can be so hot and cold with me. I mean, yeah I am doing the same thing. But this is my job. He should be wanting to stay on my good side since I am going to be writing about him. Instead he is getting further and further under my skin. Ugh.

“The last person who interviewed me worked for like MTV right?” he says, finishing up his pizza and wiping his face with a napkin. He chuckles sweetly. “And she was nice. We got along. But she had this idea in her head we were going to start dating. Don’t get me wrong, she was nice. But I was not interested. Nothing happened, I swear. But she told everyone we fucked like a whole lot of times and that she had to stop me from falling in love with her. When I was the one who said no to her. Still she told everyone how I was just madly in love with her, and I just... fucking drama is the last thing I need.”

I don’t reply because I am not sure what to say. This is Shawn just opening up to me as a person. It surprises me because most famous people know to keep their mouths shut around the press. Maybe he knows I won’t say anything since I kept his earlier comment to myself, and I am in my fucking pajamas. Plus, this kid seems like he is trying to be sincere so the last thing I want to do is betray his trust the way this woman did. Not that I care about him, but I do care about my career a lot. 

“Don’t get me wrong. I fuck a lot of women on tour. Not like teenage fans or anything, but it is not like I am a saint. But it kind of pisses me off when someone thinks they can just use me to get what they want. I like you though because you don’t care what I think. You just want to do your job, and I get that because that is how I feel about my music...but there is just something about you that...”

He leans in, pushing a stray lock of hair away from my face. “You’re beautiful.”

I can’t breathe. His face is so close to mine if I just leaned my head the right way...

His eyes are looking into mine and neither of us are speaking.

This can’t fucking happen. It-

Shawn presses his lips against mine, and I almost relent. But I can’t. This is my career. I can’t just...

I tense up, placing a hand against his chest and pulling away. “I have to go,” i mumble, running out of the room without looking back.

When I get back to my own room, I fall down onto the bed and try not to lose my shit. That kid just fucking kissed me and I let him for the briefest moment. Fuck. I am going to ruin everything. 

My phone vibrates, stopping my thoughts. Taking a deep breath, I answer.

The voice on the line says, “Hi, babe, how are you?”

It’s Landon, my fiance.

God, I am so fucked.

back in the day (part 4)

final part of the meet-cute (?) lmao

i think i'm gonna re-write these and post them on AO3, not sure yet tho! i've never posted anything there

part 1

part 2

part 3

Graduation's in 2 months...

Coral sighed deeply as she marked another day in her calendar, bubbles rising up and popping on the ceiling of her cave. Two years had gone by so fast! Why, just yesterday she'd saved her bff's life after she nearly drowned.

Except it wasn't yesterday, that had happened about a year ago. Her friend didn't drown anymore, in fact they'd managed to up her "underwater record"; she could last for almost an hour now. A lot had happened since then! They'd go on walks every weekend, usually around the park and then get something to eat. Other times they'd skip class for the day and just hang out at the beach, Snowhill would bring a thermos with tea and they'd just talk and talk for hours. One time they even visited an amusement park! The rollercoaster was her favorite, a shame she had to ride it alone though.

She also visited a lot of places on her own free time. Usually, the goat would accompany her and try (and fail!) to take her to new places; on the times she was too busy, Coral would just get the directions and go by herself. Sure, she wasn't supposed to use her "temporary soul" without proper authorization, but who was gonna rat her out? She visited several museums and clubs, had gone to try a few restaurants by herslef and even returned to the amusement park once or twice.

Through it all, she also had tried to find her soulmate. Her time was running out and she really, really didn't want to come back to the sea empty-handed; she loved the surface! She wanted to stay there! Alas, it seemed it wasn't in the cards for her.

Every partner she'd managed to have would leave her within a few weeks. She'd meet someone, they'd talk, go on a date or two and then skip town as soon as she told them her species. At first she was rather upset, believing the main issue was her being an undine, but...

"It's because of the soulmate thing" Snowhill told her one such afternoon.

They were on their usual spot at the beach, sharing a thermos with "milk tea". She'd been dumped by her most recent partner, a siren that had lasted for a whooping two weeks before he decided they "weren't a good fit babe".

"You gotta be kidding...ugghhhh of course it's the stupid soulmate thing!" Coral groaned loudly, very upset and annoyed. She angrily drank her tea and angrily requested for more.

"I mean, it is a pretty big commitment" the goat picked up a small seashell "To be fair, we're barely 18. I don't know if I could commit to something like that either".

For some reason, that comment stung particularly hard. It didn't leave her mind for weeks.

Now, they were 2 months away from graduation. She was supposed to return the temporary soul and return to her life on the sea, as if nothing happened. But how could she do that? She loved the surface! It was so unfair, she didn't want to come back and live in the sea her whole life. The sunlight didn't hit as hard down there, there were no flowers or herbs, she couldn't feel the wind rush through her hair because there was no wind underwater.

Snowhill couldn't come visit either.

That was the absolute worst. She'd miss her best friend terribly, just the though of it made her tear up. They'd be through so much! Ever since that weekend, they'd become so much closer. Nowadays, Snowhill allowed her to touch her whenever she wanted; hand holding, side hugs, pats on the head and even full-on hugs. She complained and blushed and threaten with her horns, but Coral knew she was all bark and no bite. Occasionally, the goat even initiated contact herself. She was rather fond of one memory in specific.

It was after her second partner had left her, a lovely fairy that claimed she wasn't quite ready for a relationship just yet. The undine had been a mess, she was so sure this time it would work! She'd met her soulmate and she'd be set for life.

Snowhill hadn't known what to say, she'd never saw her in such a depressed state. Coral guessed it must've been shocking, considering her usually bubbly attitude. She skipped class the whole week and, surprisingly, so had her friend. The undine found herself on the receiving end of several hugs, nuzzles and even a few homemade poundcakes and cookies.

"Sorry it didn't work out" she had said one such day, offering her another cup of tea and a freshly baked lemon cookie "Can't say I know how you feel, 'cause I know my breakups aren't the same as yours. But, uh, I'm here if you need anything"

It had taken her a while to bounce back from that one, but her friend's support had helped quite a lot. Thinking that she would lose her, all because she hadn't managed to fin a soulmate on time was, ironically, soul-crushing.

Coral sighed again, swimming to the deepest part of her cave where her room was located. She laid down on her sponge bed and stared at the ceiling, a few glow-in-the-dark stars barely twinkling and providing a bit of light.

"There's nothing I can do about it anymore" she though, turning on her side and curling up around a discarded pillow "Guess I'll just make the most of these two months"

With that in mind, she slipped into an uneasy sleep.

___________________________________________________

Graduation's in a month.

Grumbling, Snowhill tossed her cellphone on the side-table, the calendar app still open and displaying the marked date with an angry red circle. The last two years had gone by so fast, she hadn't had time to process it all. One day she's the "lonely asshole from X class" and the next she's meeting her new "bestie for life".

She sighed, curling around one of her many giant teddy bears. It wasn't the ceremony itself that bothered her, but rather the implications that it brough. Leaving school, the pressure of picking a career path she'd be stuck with for life, start a savings account to move to her own place.

Mainly, that Coral would go back to live in the deep, dark sea.

It was so unfair! Coral loved the surface, if anyone deserved to live up here it was definetely her. But what could she do, really? They'd tried everything to find her soulmate, all attempts were in vain as rumours started to spread through the school. And it wasn't your run-of-the mill rumour, but something that affected Coral's reputation severely.

"Don't date the undine from X class. She's gonna steal your sould and drag you to the ocean".

What a load of shit.

She'd been furious the first time she'd heard it, demanding to know who the fuck had started it just to give them a piece of her mind. Coral held her back, saying it wasn't a big deal and that she didn't really care; but Snowhill knew, she'd seen the hurt and panic in her eyes. That rumour alone had scared off any potential partners, it was impossible to try and find anyone who would want anything "serious" with her friend.

Coral didn't want her to intervene, so she'd respect her wishes. However, petty revenge wasn't discussed, so she'd set to work; she moved the douche's desk exactly 1 cm. every day. Poor idiot kept falling on his ass because his chair wasn't in the usual spot.

Dumbass.

Snowhill twisted a strand of hair on her finger, staring at the ceiling. There was literally nothing she could do, no one wanted anything to do with her friend; hanging out? Sure, but if she proposed anything else they'd back off immediately. The goat had tried every other solution she could think of after that, but her skills weren't as advanced as she wished. Creating a fake soul was a stupidly difficult spell, one she'd been practicing for months and could never get to work; though, to be fair, her magic was more nature-focused. She growled, upset and frustrated with her lack of ability and at how unfair the whole ordeal was.

A knock on her door let her know she had a visitor.

"Come in" her mother came in and sat down next to her bed. Snowhill continued to stare at the ceiling, her thick eyebrows deeply furrowed "Mom, I'm a bit busy, can you come back later?"

"If you call "growling and puting at the ceiling" busy, then I think we have two very different definitions for the word" her mother chuckled, a sad smile on her face "How are you holding up?"

"How do you think I'm holding up?!"

"No need to rise your voice with me, young lady" she frowned "I'm not the one you're upset at".

"Ugh, I know...'m sorry..." she turned on her side, not looking at her mother "It's just..."

"I know honey, I'm really sorry we couldn't help your friend"

"It's...it's not on you, don't worry".

She was still frowning, but Snowhill noticed her mother had a rather thoughful look in her eyes.

"Uh, you wanted to tell me something?"

"Not quite. Just that I think you're not looking at this from the corret angle" she scratched behind her horns, the goat gratefully leaning into the touch.

"What do you mean?" she slurred, head petting always got her sleepy.

"...Your friend's an undine, yes? So she needs to find her soulmate"

"Because a soul can only be created or shared through a true bond, I know".

"So maybe you kids have been looking for this soulmate in the wrong place"

"Uh-huh..." she was falling asleep fast, her mom better tell her what she meant soon.

"I think your solution's right in front of you both, but you're a bit too oblivious to notice"

Nope, she fell asleep. The centaur sighed, looking at her daughter; the signales were right there. All that was left to do, was for them to notice and act upon them.

________________________________________________________

Graduation's today.

Coral shaked the director's hand, smiling brightly to the camera and holding up her diploma.

Graduation's today.

Snowhill walked down the stage, barely holding in tears and gripping the diploma so hard it was making an awful sound.

Graduation's today.

They shook hands with their classmates, took a few pictures in front of the huge flower vases decorating the stage and ate a few snacks from the refreshments table. Snowhill's family had dragged them to a small party to celebrate, they even had cake and a small karaoke contest. Of course, they were assigned dish washing duty; can't enjoy a party without cleaning up!

Graduation was today.

"Can I ask you a favor?" Coral said while handing her another dish to dry.

"Shoot" Snowhill stood on her tippy-toes to place the dish in the cabinets.

"Can, uh...can you come with me to the beach? I don't wanna be alone when the spell runs out"

"...S-Sure, lemme grab the keys and I'll drive us there".

If they saw the tears in each other's eyes, neither commented on it.

Graduation was today.

__________________________________________________________

They sat on their usual spot, in a corner a bit far away from the main section of the beach; a huge, plain rock that formed a small "pool" which, in turn, connected them to the ocean. An amicable silence between them, broken occasionally by the sound of jiggling car keys or tea being poured from the thermos.

Coral dipped her feet into the small, warm pool, enjoying the last few moments she'd have actual toes and not a tail fin. A cold breeze picked up and she shivered, scooting closer to her friend for warmth.

"Hey, I got a farewell present for you" said the goat, pulling out a purple box from behind her "Was gonna give it to you earlier, but it didn't seem like a good moment".

"Awwww bestie, you shouldn't have!" she blushed a bit, a cyan color tainting her cheeks.

She carefully pried the box open, trying to not tear the wrapping with her claws too much. Inside a thick, multiple-colored sweater sat neatly folded; soft pinks and blues made the garment look ridiculously cozy. Coral gingerly touched it, confirming it was as soft as it looked, being even more careful to not pull a stitch with her claws. She lifted it to her face, breathing in deeply. It smelled like a forest.

"Did you make this?!" she tugged it on immediately, hugging herself "It's so warm!!!"

"Yeah. I, uh, figured you'd get cold down there, so..." Snowhill tugged on the sleeves of her own sweater "I-It has a spell, um, granny taught it to me. It's waterproof so you can use it h-her or in your cave".

"This is literally the most toughtful gift I've ever received!!" Coral hugged her tightly.

"Y-You're welcome" she hugged her back as much as she could.

They didn't let go for a while, feeling the other would disappear if they did. The sun was setting and Coral closed her eyes, she knew the spell would dissipate as soon as the sun was completely gone. She didn't want to let go, she didn't wanna go back to her dark and cold cave, she didn't--

"I'm gonna miss you".

She did wanna listen to this.

"Fuck, 'm gonna miss you so much" Snowhill hugged her tighter, hiding her face on Coral's shoulder "Y-You're literally the only f-friend I've ever had"

"S-Same..." Coral gripped the back of the goat's sweater, resting her head right between her horns "I hate this stupid curse. I don't need a soul to know I love being on the surface"

"I know..."

"...And, a-and I don't need a soul to know I love you a lot. Like, you're the most important person in my life"

Snowhill sucked in a breath, her eyes widening and tears pouring freely. She loved her? Her??? The grumpy goat that almost broke her foot on her first day? She sobbed, and sobbed harder once she heard the undine had started crying too.

"I love you too" she separated just enough to look at her face, noting how her ear-fins were dropping so low they almost touched her neck "You're my best friend. It...i-it feels like you're a part of me I didn't even know was missing"

"I know!!! That's why I talked to you that day" Coral laughed, her eyes a bit puffy from crying "I didn't know why, I still don't! But I just felt that you and I were meant to meet, y'know?"

"I'm glad you talked to me" Snowhill wiped her tears on her sleeve "These two years have been...t-the best years of my life. Fuck, I wanna be so mad at you. How dare you come into my life and then go?"

"I wish I could stay" the undine took a deep breath, hugging her friend again "If I could have one wish, it'd be to stay here with you"

They lapsed into silence again, crickets singing all around them. It was quite dark by now, surely the spell would fade out any moment. All that was left was to enjoy any little time they had.

So, they waited.

And waited some more.

They anxiously waited until the moon was high in the sky, sharing confused glances and drinking from the thermos every once in a while.

"Uh" the goat scratched her head, confused "Don't get me wrong, it's not like I want you gone but...shouldn't you have a tail by now?"

"I should!" Coral wiggled her toes "In fact, I should be gasping for air right now. I should've turned already unless--"

And then it clicked.

She gasped, a trembling hand covering her mouth. God, she was so stupid. How did she not notice? Seriously? All the signs were there, their first meeting was no coincidence and the fact she hadn't been able to find her soulmate--

"You're my soulmate" she whipsered behind her hand, eyes open wide and looking at the goat.

"What'd you say? Dude, you good? You're kind of freaking me out" Snowhill lifted a hand, a concerned frown on her face.

"You're my soulmate" she said louder "We're--you're--you're my soulmate!!"

Snowhill opened her mouth. Then closed it. Then lifted a finger and opened it again, her face pale and eyes (also) open wide.

"That's why you feel so familiar!!!" Coral stood up abruptly "That's what drew me to you, we're soulmate!!! God knows for how long, but we're soulmates!!"

"W-We're...I'm your...huh?" the goat looked up at her, clearly still processing the information.

"We're soulmates!!! I haven't turned back, that shoulda happened hours ago!!!"

Snowhill slowly got up, her legs shaking, and grabbed Coral's arms "No way. You've gotta be shitting me"

"You're not happy?" her excitement immediately vanished, replaced with a deep sense of despair "You don't wanna--"

"NO!! I-I MEAN YES!!" she shook her head, a grin slowly forming on her face "I-I have a soulmate!! You're my soulmate! M-My best friend is my soulmate!!!"

"Yeah!!!!" she smiled, barring her sharp teeth "My best friend's my soulmate too!!!!"

They hugged and cried some more, jumping up and down in excitement. A few people stopped to stare at them but, honestly, they didn't care. After a while however, it turned too cold to stay on the beach.

Giddy, they ran towards the car and hurried back to Snowhill's house. They had planned a whole revelation, make a huge deal out of it because of course, it WAS a huge deal.

"WE'RE SOULMATES!!!!" Coral yelled as soon as she opened the door, lifting their joined hands "I'M STAYING 'CAUSE WE'RE SOULMATES!!!"

"God dammit Coral!" Snowhill tried to frown but, really, she was still too happy about the whole thing.

The whole family stared for a minute before erupting into loud cheers. Snowhill's aunt dragging them into a huge family-group hug, surely the first of many.

"Oh thank god, it was about time" the goat heard her mother mumble "Was gonna tell them myself if they didn't figure it out today".

Friends in Dark Places [remastered, ch 12]

pairing: moxiety, eventual logince, background eventual remile, background eventual remy/emile/deceit

WARNINGS: sensory overload, panic attacks, self hate, school dances, swearing, food mentions, kissing, embarrassment, rumors, eating, possibly something else

tag list: @hufflepuffgirl01 @cocobearthe4th @cas-is-a-hunter @band-be-boss-blog @theunoriginaldaisy

a/n: jsyk, it’s totally okay to ask for a modified chapter if you need it or if i need to add tags! i get it, and it’s no problem for me to quick edit a chapter or whatever :) also, feel free to send requests or questions that you have!

a/n 2: :)

chapter 1 - chapter 2 - chapter 3 - chapter 4 - chapter 5 - chapter 6 -chapter 7 - chapter 8 - chapter 9 - chapter 10 - chapter 11 - chapter 13

companion fics: exes and ‘oh’s

consider buying me a coffee

-

“So, Virgil. Are you going to prom?” Roman casually asked before popping a french fry in his mouth.

“Um, I don’t know. I wasn’t planning on it.” Virgil absently dipped a chicken nugget into the pool of ranch on his tray. He really hadn’t thought about prom that much. Plus, the thought of a whole bunch of his peers stuck in one room together, probably grinding with their respective dates, was not a pleasant one.

“Awww, kiddo! You should go! You could come with us; we’re going to grab dinner and everything,” Patton whined.

“I mean, I guess?” Virgil grimaced as he weighed the options. “But don’t I have to rent a tux? I don’t have money for that, especially not after what happened on Monday. I’d be surprised to find my credit card still working with all of that in mind.”

Logan jumped into the conversation. “You would have to rent a tux, yes, but the three of us would be more than happy to help cover your expenses. We value you as a member of our friend group, and we wouldn’t exclude you from something just because you couldn’t afford it.”

Virgil opened his mouth to argue, but Roman interjected, “Dude, seriously. Just let us do this for you. It’ll be fun!”

“Plus, Ro already bought you a ticket,” Logan added and held out a small slip of cardstock. Westview Junior Prom.

Well, Virgil Thomas was now going to prom.

---

“Hey, Pat? Can you help me with my tie?” Virgil called from his bathroom. He had been struggling for the past five minutes trying to figure out the witchcraft behind ties, and he still had zero clue as to what he was supposed to be doing.

“Be right there, kiddo!” It was only a few moments before soft footsteps could be heard approaching, and Patton walked into the bathroom. He’d already mostly finished getting ready sans the fact that his hair was a catastrophic mess. Virgil could guess that he’d been trying to fix it when he’d been called into the other room.

“Alright. Work your magic,” Virgil smirked. In a matter of seconds, Patton had looped and pulled the tie into place, gently tightening it around Virgil’s neck. It was deep purple, picked out specifically because of his dislike of most other colors, and it went very well with the blues and reds of the others’ ties. The tie also matched the freshly dyed purple hair that Roman had forced his three friends to do along with him earlier that afternoon. What an ass.

Virgil admired his reflection. “Dude, what the fuck? How did you do that?” He felt oddly confident in his skin. The same feeling had come about a few times since he’d met Patton, and he had to admit that it was nice. Pat’s happy-go-lucky attitude somehow perfectly meshed with Virgil’s own doom-and-gloom one, forming a hilariously compatible friendship.

Patton smiled and ruffled Virgil hair, much to the other’s dismay. “Now that I helped you, will you please fix my hair.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“I mean it, Virge! Look at this.” Pat ran his fingers through his hair and aggressively tugged when he reached a clump of knots.

“Okay, yeah, we’re fixing that right now.”

---

“Dinner? Really, Patton? You guys couldn’t have told me about this before?” Virgil whined as the four walked into the diner. Yes, a diner, which meant that they were ridiculously overdressed; every other patron was wearing some sort of flannel and jeans combo. It smelled great, sure, but it was so unexpected that he couldn’t help but feel on edge.

“It’s our favorite restaurant,” Logan explained. “We always come here before school events. Roman has coined it as some sort of weird ritual, but it’s mostly tradition.” He led Virgil to the booth that Patton and Roman had already rushed to sit in.

“Plus, we’re friends with the staff,” Ro started with a smile. “You’ll love them; they’re all super nice. Speaking of, here comes Emilia.”

A young lady with brown hair walked up to their table, pulling out her small notepad. “Well, who do we have here? Another addition to our little group of customers of the month for every month since 2014?”

“Hey, Emilia!” Patton said. “This is Virgil; he’s a new friend of ours. He’s been living with me for a few weeks while his dad is out of the country on business.”

“That’s sweet, Patton. Now, what can I get for you guys?”

The three regulars spouted off their orders, clearly versed in what they wanted to eat. Suddenly, all eyes turned to Virgil. He’d barely been able to look over the menu in the time the others had taken to order.

“Uh… I… Um…” He stuttered. Every drop of intelligence that he had in his body was gone in an instant, and he was left a bumbling mess.

“He’ll have a cheeseburger and fries, thanks,” Patton cut in, saving his friend from any further embarrassment.

“Alright! I’ll be back in a few with your food and a pitcher of water!” Emilia gave the boys another smile before she walked back behind the counter to tend to other customers. Almost immediately, Patton and Roman launched themselves into a fast paced discussion about the upcoming festivities. Virgil, unsurprisingly, not only felt anxious, but he also felt like a complete idiot. He was just ordering dinner--there was no reason for him to have been so freaked out.

Virgil felt a hand rest on his left shoulder, turning to see Logan with a worried expression etched on his face. “Are you okay? Do you need to step outside for a moment to regain composure? I’d be willing to go with you if you don’t want to be alone.”

“Uh, no. I’m okay. I’m just a little worried. I mean, this is my first proper school event in, like, ever, and it’s freaking intimidating. You guys go to these things multiple times a year?” Virgil ran his hands through his hair, distressed.

“I understand. When Roman and Patton first made me come with them to homecoming, I was so nervous that I nearly passed out on the way here. Thankfully, I wasn’t driving us everywhere back then otherwise that would’ve ended in a disaster.” Logan gave Virgil a small smile, adding to the tiny--yet slowly growing--list of his outward displays of emotion. Virgil knew Lo wasn’t an emotionless android, but Roman and Patton were so all over the place that someone needed to play the calm and collected one.

“They can be pretty intense,” Virgil commented with a smile at the enthusiastic conversation across the table from them. Both of the teens were grinning and flinging their hands around in wild gestures, barely avoiding impact.

“Yeah, they sure can.” Logan glanced at the other side of the table with a fond expression, but he quickly snapped out of his reverie. “Don’t worry about the dance. Oh, here!” He pulled a pair of earbuds out of his inside jacket pocket and held them out to Virgil. “It gets pretty loud at these dances. I’ve observed that you put on headphones when it gets too noisy, so I brought these just in case you didn’t have your own.”

Virgil pocketed them just as Emilia finally returned with their food. The other three immediately began to dig in while he hesitantly poked at his burger. He picked up a fry and lazily popped it into his mouth.

He picked at his fries for a few minutes, but he eventually worked his way up to taking a bite of his burger. “Holy shit! This stuff is great--wait, why haven’t you taken me here yet?”

“I was trying to ease you into our friend group, so I thought eating dinner at my house would save you some unnecessary interaction,” Pat explained. “Obviously, that was a crime against your taste buds.”

“Of course it was, Patton. Depriving anyone of this blessed food is practically a war crime!” Roman dramatically stated, throwing out his arms. Virgil snorted at the theatrics.

They continued to eat, and all but Virgil had finished their dinner when Emilia returned to their table for dessert orders. Logan ordered a slice of pecan pie for himself, a chocolate lava cake for Roman, a hot fudge sundae for Patton, and a caramel shake for Virgil. Patton, of course, began to spout off a review of all of the desserts they’d ordered, even though Virgil wouldn’t be eating most of them. They all listened politely, not really absorbing any of the information, until their orders arrived. Within a nanosecond, Pat’s face was stuffed full of vanilla ice cream and fudge sauce, easily and efficiently shutting him up.

They ate in near silence, save for the “light” discussion of whether cake or pie was better (Patton eventually had to cut in when Roman threatened Logan with a butterknife). Pat covered the whole bill once they’d finished, claiming “it’s my way of thanking you guys for putting up with my shenanigans.”

---

“Three, two, one!” Roman dramatically counted as he threw the doors to the venue open. Time seemed to freeze as the four friends stepped in; all eyes snapped to them. It had been days since they’d been the topic of gossip at school, but that didn’t mean the student body had lost their interest in the boys.

Roman was at the front of the group, confidently striding to the grand staircase and adjusting his red tie. Logan followed close behind, who looked absolutely stunning in the sharp suit and deep blue tie. Then was Patton, who was marveling at the cascading flower vines and glittering fairy lights. And last but certainly not least…

Virgil. He had a wary smile on his face, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his slacks. The boy made absolutely sure that he didn’t get lost; he kept eyes on Patton the entire time they descended the stairs.

Logan had been right; it was fucking loud. People were screaming left and right, and the music was so loud that Virgil could feel every beat vibrate in his chest. He was lucky that he’d put the earbuds in before they’d arrived, or he never would have stepped inside the venue.

Patton turned around to check on Virgil, obviously sensing the tension building in his friend. He held out his hand for Virgil, who hesitated for just a moment before gently taking it. If people wanted to believe they were together, that wasn’t his problem. It was no skin off his back.

They talked and danced for what felt like hours, and Virgil even joined in on a few of the dances he knew. He was having fun. He smiled and laughed, and it was all genuine! In just a few short weeks, Patton had actually transformed him from a suicidal nightmare into someone who found joy in life. It was a stupid sentiment, and he knew it, but it still brought Virgil a bit of warmth in his chest.

The DJ announced a slow dance. Ugh, how awful. He had nobody to dance with; it was just—

Oh.

Patton tugged Virgil’s hand lightly, pulling their bodies closer together. “Wanna dance? We don’t have to, of course, but it would be a fun first experience for both of us!”

“I—Uh, sure,” Virgil mumbled, trying to hide his gently growing blush. Pat gently guided Virgil’s hands around his neck and placed his own on Virgil’s waist. For the first time, Virgil noticed that he was just an inch or so taller than his friend. Reveling in the warmth and closeness, the two swayed together to the gentle rhythm.

The song ended, and Virgil stepped back, shoving his hands into his pockets. He was extremely grateful that the low light hid his pink cheeks. The screaming resumed as couples broke apart, and early 2000s rap boomed out of the speakers.

And then just like that, Virgil was attacked by anxiety. His hands started shaking, and he rushed away from the small group he was in, mumbling something about going to the bathroom. He calmed slightly when he had made it outside, where he simply collapsed to the ground, but then his panic picked up again when he realized how fucking alone he was always going to be.

Nobody would love the weird guy who rushes out on social gatherings for no fucking reason! Why should they? Virgil had nothing to offer; he was just a guy who had snark to rival Roman and barely two cents to his name.

Tears streamed down his face, running in dark gray streaks as they mixed with his black eye makeup. He could feel his chest heaving, but little air actually made it into his body. Everything was working overtime yet nothing actually happened. Virgil stayed sobbing on the ground. Nothing. Changed.

“Virge, honey? Do you need me to call my mom and have her pick us up?” Patton slowly lowered himself next to Virgil, talking softly so that he woudn’t stir up anything worse.

“N-No! I’ll… I’ll… Fuck!” Virgil cried as he ripped the earbuds out of his ears. He threw the cord a few feet away, instantly regretting it as the sound of shattering plastic reached his ears. He’d have to buy Logan new ones. He couldn’t afford to replace them.

“Goodness gracious, Virgil. It’s okay. I’m going to call Logan, and we’re going to get you out of here—“

“I-I-I don’t… want t-t-to… ruin… night…” Virgil sputtered. He was having trouble pushing the words out; all of them got stuck in his throat.

Patton carefully began to comb through Virgil’s hair with his fingers in an attempt to soothe the attack. “Don’t worry about that, kiddo. There isn’t much more fun to be had, anyway. We still love you—I still love you.”

That’s it. That’s what he felt. Love. He loved Patton.

All of the impulse control he had—though, truthfully, there was very little to begin with—left his body. He reached out and brought Pat’s face to his own, lightly kissing him. Patton stiffened for a fraction of a second before relaxing into the kiss. They were both going to regret this later, but what did that matter in the moment?

chapter 13