#and that only matters cause I want bowie to fuck around and find out with the seance table

[oh-men-of-dark-and-dismal-fate]

I'm tempted to make a sims household with David Bowie, Vincent Van Gogh, Guy Fieri, Alton Brown, and Danny Elfman just to see where life takes them.

But the question is...

Sims 3 or Sims 4?

[zodiyack]

Rude! (3,000+ Follower Fic Special 1/3)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Female!Hopper!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Billy stuff, lyrics, fluff

Song: Rude by Magic!

Words: 1,798

Summary: Billy's love for Hopper's daughter is too strong to be stopped by the tough Chief Jim Hopper. Despite being told "not in a thousand years", he plans to love her regardless.

Note: Thank you so so much! I love you all, and writing your ideas, as well as sharing mine with you, has been so fucking fun and amazing! I'm sorry for my lack of words, I wish being an author came in handy with writing this, however, all I can say is that I love you all from the bottom of my heart. I've seen people do shout-outs, and ask-related stuff with their follower things, and I may do that, I'm not sure. For now, I hope you enjoy this... Thank you all, again!

Also 1/3 means that there will be two other fics released for the 3,000+ follower present!

Taglist: @urie-bowie-mercury, @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read-it, @simonsbluee, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow, @dpaccione

Masterlist | Stranger Things Masterlist

"Saturday morning, jumped out of bed and put on my best suit. Got in my car and raced like a jet all the way to you. Knocked on your door with my heart in my hands, to ask you a question, 'cause I know that you're an old-fashioned man. Yeah."

Billy was freshly graduated, working as a lifeguard whilst his girlfriend worked her own job, both saving up for their chance to ditch Hawkins and move to California. Sweet Cali. Billy was excited to show the love of his life around the place he called home. Though, physically, he left the salty ocean and windy beach behind, the place never truly left him.

You could see it in his eyes. The waves crashing in his blue orbs. He swore the scent had just barely clung to his belongings; the smell of the tangy air that followed a majority of the state. Working at a pool was the closest he got to the memory of California. Chlorine was most certainly not the salted ocean waters, but with the circumstances, he decided it'd do.

The way his face lit up whenever he talked about his home...it made Y/n more and more excited to see it. His girlfriend had grown up in Hawkins, stayed there her whole life. Never once did the Hoppers leave Hawkins.

But the second that was introduced to Billy, he knew it had to change.

Although they were saving for a big move, Billy had...other things in mind with what to do with his first large pay-check (or series, rather. Working as a lifeguard didn't pay well with just one check). He began to work more shifts to make up for the money he'd spent, and one day after calling in for a day off, he decided to put his plan into action.

"Billy, stop messing with the tie."

"It's annoying." Hands slapped away his attempts of adjusting the black silk tie.

"Well it won't stop being annoying if you keep fucking it up."

For the first time in a long time, Neil Hargrove was calm. Not happy, not amused, not pissed off for some unjust reason- just calm. He wasn't wreaking havoc and he wasn't being an asshole to his son. Billy hadn't seen this side of his dad in quite some time, in fact, he thought something important was going on and he was about to fuck it all up. And then, Susan retreated to the living room with a camera and a freshly ironed suit.

"You're not putting me in that."

"And who asked for your opinion?" Neil deflected with a raised brow. One heavy sigh later and Billy was leaving the bathroom, dawning the whole black and white getup.

Susan clasped her hands over her mouth, a tear leaving her eye, "You look so handsome! Just like your dad!"

Billy rolled his eyes, "Great."

However, his careless attitude was swept under the rug when the blue Camaro pulled up to the police station, interrupting a clearly distressed Chief Hopper bickering with his daughter. Billy had to get himself together before stepping out of the car, jaw slack after seeing the beauty he got to call his date.

"Hello Mr-"

"Don't even try play nice with me, Hargrove. She's not going anywhere with you. End of story." Hopper kept his eyes trained on the blond, body tense like a snake preparing to strike it's prey.

Y/n grabbed Billy's arm, slowly directing him to the car, "And in the sequel, we find out I am going with Billy. End of that story."

"There is no 'sequel.' The writer got drunk and lazy." She paused, turning to face her father who stood tall, arms crossed and face unamused.

"So his daughter picked up where her father left off, and then the sequel was published and the two lived happily ever after, the end."

While her dad attempted to search for a line that would better hers and force her to stay, she pushed Billy toward the driver's side and slid into the car as fast as she could, rolling down the window as Billy started it up. "Bye! I'll be back before midnight!"

The two drove off toward the school, leaving behind a trail of dust and very, very, pissed off Hopper.

Prom was better than Billy thought it would be. He didn't want to go at first, but after Max found out and spoke to her mom about it (the little redhead a cupid-in-the-making), Neil pushed him to go (as he was "doing something else besides being a lazy-no-good rebel"). It was then that he called Y/n and asked if she'd be going.

The suit came in handy. Clashing with his rocker aesthetic, he put it back on once more. The once-annoying tie proved to be somewhat okay in the end.

Can I have your daughter for the rest of my life? Say yes, say yes, 'cause I need to know. You say I'll never get your blessing "till the day I die, tough luck my friend, but the answer is no!"

Why you gotta be so rude? Don't you know I'm human too? Why you gotta be so rude? I'm gonna marry her anyway. Marry that girl, marry her anyway! Marry that girl, yeah, no matter what you say! Marry that girl, and we'll be a family! Why you gotta be so rude?

With a deep breath, he ran-over the conversation in his head once more. Like a script for an actor, he had thought of every possible outcome and every possible line for him to face it with. He almost chickened out as his fist rose to the door, but it was too late, for his knuckles rapped against it before he realized he was even knocking.

El opened the door, eyes wide when she saw the familiar mullet and button-down. "Papa..." She muttered as she backed away and out of view.

Hopper traded places with her, his lazy expression sobering up instantaneously, replaced with a grumpy scowl. "Hargrove."

"Mr. Hopper, sir."

"What are you doing on my front porch?"

He swallowed roughly, palms sweaty against his sides. "I was wondering if I could talk to you."

"You seem to be doing just that right now, Hargrove." Hop crossed his arms and clenched his jaw.

Well, this was certainly not something Billy had thought of. He was on panic mode internally, attempting to find any response that could save his hide and accomplish what he set out to do. Unfortunately, the word-vomit button seemed to be misplaced under the button labeled "help".

"I'd like to marry your daughter, sir."

Hop's eyes grew just as big in size as El's had when she opened the door. He choked on his own surprise, coughing it off, then glaring at the boy in front of him. "Over my dead body, Hargrove. If that's all, I'd strongly advise you to get off of my fucking porch while you're still alive."

I hate to do this, you leave no choice; can't live without her. Love me or hate me, we will be boys- standing at that alter. And we will fly away, to another galaxy, you know. You know she's in love with me, she will go anywhere I go-

"Billy, he's just stubborn."

"No, no, I don't think he likes me."

Y/n sighed, rubbing her boyfriend's back. He hadn't told her of his proposal plans, only that Hop seemed to have it out for him. "It'll take time, but he'll warm up to you!"

"It's been how many years since he's met me?"

"To be fair, your reputation wasn't doing you any good until now..."

"It's not like that was fucking obvious." He slouched further down in the front seat of his Camaro. To Billy, all hope was lost. If he couldn't get Hopper to give him his blessing, he was sure he'd lose his goddamned mind.

Y/n frowned. Her frown flipped around as an idea popped into her head, her lips finding Billy's knuckles and quirking his attention. "Even if he never likes you, I'm not going anywhere."

Billy laughed softly, "he'll fucking kill me if you go against him."

"Eh, that's only if he can catch us."

"You're out of your fucking mind, Y/n Hopper."

"I know."

The rest of the night was spent in the Camaro, of course, doing one of Billy's favorite pastimes. By the time the sun rose, Billy was sneaking a kiss to a giggling Y/n before dropping from her window in the cabin and running to his car, parked far enough that Hop or El wouldn't notice. He blew her one more kiss, which she pretended to catch, then he broke into a sprint.

Maybe, he thought, just maybe; there was still a chance.

His knuckles hit the door again, shifting on his feet nervously. It swung open to reveal Hopper, an unimpressed look bringing no surprise Billy's way. It was quite expected, honestly.

"What." His tone made it clear he wasn't up for fucking around.

"Mr. Hopper, if you just give me one chance to prove to you that-"

"No, no, no, no, no. Let me make it very clear to you that I want you to have nothing to do with my daughter whatsoever. No marriage, no friendship, I don't even approve of you guys fucking or whatever-"

"We're in a serious relationship, sir. It's nothing like you think it is."

This made Hop laugh. He continued to do so, holding his stomach, until he realized Billy was unamused. "Oh, you're serious?... My answer is still no, Hargrove. My answer will always be no. Go find someone else's daughter's heart to break. You're not hurting mine."

"It's not like-"

Before he could even get the words out, he was met with a door in his face. Turned down, again.

Can I have your daughter for the rest of my life? Say yes, say yes, 'cause I need to know. You say I'll never get your blessing "till the day I die, tough luck my friend, 'cause the answer's still no!"

Why you gotta be so rude? Don't you know I'm human too? Why you gotta be so rude? I'm gonna marry her anyway. Marry that girl, marry her anyway! Marry that girl, yeah, no matter what you say! Marry that girl, and we'll be a family! Why you gotta be so rude, rude?

Again, again, and again, Billy incessantly pleaded with Hopper. Different tactics were all met with the same answer; rejection.

He held up a sign outside the cabin, only for Hopper to close the curtain and chuckle as he sipped his coffee.

He asked at the door again, only for Hop to threaten to give him a black eye (which was met with "aren't you the sheriff? Isn't that illegal?").

He raced past the police station, Max leaning out the window with another sign, only for Hop to threaten them with holding cells.

He even went as far as to ask Max and El to help, but Hopper had none of that, and sent Max home with a rant full of nos.

However, if Jim Hopper thought any of it would get it into Billy's head that getting his blessing was just not happening- he was as wrong as Nancy when she claimed not to have feelings for Jonathan.

Billy had another plan in mind, and this one was impossible to say no to.

Can I have your daughter for the rest of my life? Say yes, say yes, 'cause I need to know. You say I'll never get your blessing "till the day I die, tough luck my friend- but no still means no!"

"Hopper." Billy stood before his desk, interrupting his nice date with a delicious doughnut, and earning a very annoyed glare. "I got Miss Byer's blessing. Aren't you two a thing?"

"You son of a-"

"I got Eleven's too."

"Hargrove, I'm gonna-"

"Before you cuss me out, I think you should know that I've got a stable job, an interview with a mechanic so I have a job when the pool closes for the winter, and I've got a house on the market I'm looking at. I'm devoted to your daughter and she's devoted to me. You may not like me, but I think you're a great dad, better than the one I was unfortunately stuck with. You raised a strong and amazing woman. She's incredible and I admit, she deserves better than me-"

"You don't have to say that twice." Hopper huffed, crossing his arms.

"I know she deserves so much better than me, I'm surprised she's even with me too. But she loves me, and I think you can see that. I love her too. I would never, in a million years, break her heart."

Jim stayed silent for a few minutes. The silence brought uneasiness to Billy, but that was intentional on Hopper's behalf. He finally piped up with a cough, clearing his throat, before his piercing eyes met Billy's blue orbs.

"I'll hold you to that, Hargrove."

Why you gotta be so rude? Don't you know I'm human too? Why you gotta be so rude? I'm gonna marry her anyway. Marry that girl, marry her anyway! Marry that girl, yeah, no matter what you say! Marry that girl, and we'll be a family! Why you gotta be so rude? Why you gotta be so rude?

Bonus:

(after the wedding)

"What was that about a no?" Billy quipped with his infamous smirk.

"You're lucky I'm sheriff, Hargrove."

Why you gotta be so rude?

[nbrook29]

Lmao I don’t know how this happened 😆

***

June 26th 2021, Saturday

When Sander wakes up, it’s to the early morning June sunlight hitting him straight in the face. There’s a vague smell of alcohol lingering in the air, and he groans pitifully when he remembers the amount of beer he drank last night; well, it wasn’t that much per se, but for his not-usually-drinking self it was a bit much, which would explain the sour taste in his mouth. He could be beating himself up for letting a little too much loose and messing up his rather strict rules, but it’s finally summertime and he was feeling so happy and free. Exams are done and over with, bigger gatherings are allowed again, and most importantly, the love of his life has just graduated high school and-

Wait. 

He blinks his eyes open, arm reaching to the other side of the bed expecting a warm body, but it’s met with cold sheets instead. 

Where did that love of his life go? 

Bones cracking when he sits up on the bed, he rubs the sleep out of his eyes like a little boy, looking around the room, a twinge of worry in his mind. Robbe was way more drunk than him yesterday, being a giggly, inebriated, lovely, messy mess that was barely standing when the party came to an end. Sander had to practically carry him to their cabin, with Robbe wrapped like a koala around his back, holding tight as he mumbled love declarations into Sander’s hair until he fell asleep, arm looped around his head and cheek resting on top of it. It was unbearably cute, but it was also a miracle Sander’s legs didn’t give out because as small as Robbe is, carrying his dead weight on his back is a challenge.

For a second, a dark scenario enters his mind, and he’s working himself up over Robbe maybe getting up at some point to throw up and being so drunk he choked in the bathroom (yes, he’s a tad dramatic), but then a scrap of paper lying on the makeshift bedside table that is his backpack catches his sight and relief washes over him. 

It’s clearly torned out from his sketchbook and he smiles before he even reaches for it.

Come and find me when you wake up x

Little hearts were added all around for good measure and then there’s another message below.

P.S. You’re so fucking hot xxxxx

Snorting, Sander thinks back to yesterday’s afternoon when he showed up to pick Robbe up with his dad’s car so they could meet everyone in Ostend. The way his jaw dropped wide open seeing his brand new look makes him feel very smug at the mere memory.

Right next to the note there’s that piece of confetti he put in Robbe’s long hair at the party, his boyfriend blushing so prettily when Sander told him he couldn’t find a flower as beautiful as him around so the confetti had to do for the time being. 

That’s Sander’s favorite activity: pulling a blush out of him with his sappy lines. Well, maybe after getting lost in their out of this world kisses. Or making love to him, slow and sweet or fast and dirty, Sander’s not picky.

5 minutes and he’s out the door after the quickest shower of his life, minty fresh and ready for a quest to find his other half. It’s still very early, the clock showing a few minutes past eight, and to be honest, Sander wonders how on earth is Robbe up and about already. He was fully preparing for a morning full of Robbe’s moans (not the good kind), cursing him for letting him drink so much and swearing on his life that he’ll never touch alcohol again.

The beach is almost empty, barely a few people lounging on the sand, and it takes him no time to spot longish brown curls flying with the force of the wind. Robbe looks lost to the world around him, sitting cross-legged and leaning back onto his arms, face turned to the sun to catch the early morning rays. A soft smile is dancing on his lips as he takes in the sight of the calm sea stretching till the horizon to the sound of whatever is playing in his headphones (probably Bowie because Robbe has a Master’s degree in his music now, courtesy of Sander Driesen) and he looks the most relaxed Sander has seen him in weeks. He looks beautiful.

And Sander is so so in love with him it hurts.

The boy must’ve sensed his presence because he turns around just when he’s a few meters away, his smile growing wide at the sight of him, squinting a little and wow, how does he look so good after a night like that? Sander wonders whether it’s his lovesick devotion that makes him see Robbe through a filter or if sleep did its job marvellously this time.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” Robbe pulls at his jean jacket to sit him right next to himself and wastes no time before looping his arms around his neck, peppering his lips with good morning kisses.

“Hey, drunkie,” Sander teases once Robbe gets his fit, earning a half-hearted glare and a soft scoff.

“I was not that drunk.”

“You fell asleep on my head while I was carrying your butt to bed.”

“Well your head is very comfy,” Robbe states matter-of-factly, leaving no room for further discussion because he shuts up any snarky comment Sander may have had with another kiss. That’s a-okay with him, and he tangles his hand in Robbe’s gorgeous locks that he will worship till the day he dies, never missing an occasion to bury his fingers in the tangled strands. The other hand joins in the fun, tugging playfully at the earring he’s also a tiny bit too obsessed with and delighting in the high-pitched sound it pulls out of Robbe.

“What are you doing here so early? I thought you’d be dead to the world till at least noon.” Sander makes himself comfy in Robbe’s embrace, leaning against him and playing with Robbe’s long fingers that are resting on his stomach.

The boy huffs a quiet laugh, a warm puff of air tickling Sander’s neck. “I think it’s the sea breeze making me sober up quicker than normally,” he pauses, hand nudging lightly at Sander’s chin to make him lift his head back and meet his eyes, a soft smile on his lips as he continues. “That and also I think that I was less drunk on alcohol and more drunk on love.”

Sander may be the king of sappy lines, but Robbe has a few of his own up in his sleeve, and everytime he pulls one out, it makes him melt into a pile of goo. Sander crashes their lips together in a kiss that’s a little too heavy for a morning in a public space, but hey, they’re drunk on love and he doesn’t care, Robbe doesn’t care either, and there aren’t many people around them anyway so fuck it. He hums into the kiss, Robbe’s tongue grazing the roof of his mouth almost as by accident, and it’s so good, it always is.

“Last night, it felt so... life-changing, you know? And I don’t know why cause not that much is changing, really.”

“You’re graduating high school, it feels big.”

“Yeah, but I’m staying here for uni, I’m not moving or anything. I don’t know, I think I’ve been feeling a little nostalgic lately.” Robbe shrugs like he doesn’t really understand it, but doesn’t want to dwell on it either. There’s a small frown between his eyebrows though so Sander reaches to smooth it out with his thumb.

Then, something comes to his mind. “Maybe it’s because of us?”

Robbe’s frown gets deeper. “What do you mean?”

Sander turns around in his arms, nodding at the surroundings, voice laced with excitement. “You know this is the first time we have been at the beach since we met?”

Brown eyes blink at him in confusion, but then they light up and match Sander’s excitement.

“Oh my god, you’re right! Fuck, it feels like a different lifetime.”

A very miserable, shitty lifetime if you ask Sander. For both of them.

“I was so lonely back then,” Robbe sighs.

Sander notices a tiny shadow of sadness fogging Robbe’s eyes, like it always happens when he thinks back to that period of his life. Some wounds were cut too deep to fully heal, but Sander’s always there to bring him back to the present.

Tugging lightly on his hair to make him look back at him, Sander gives him a lopsided grin.

“Not gonna lie, I’m very pleased this time around the only person that’s allowed to kiss you is me.”

Robbe hums, a smirk brewing on his lips. “Hmm, I don’t know, I wouldn’t say no to a kiss from Jens I think.”

And Sander knows he’s doing it on purpose, absolutely loves to rile him up and play the “Jens” card when he wants to be snogged into submission. Robbe learned early on that even though Sander’s aware he’s just joking, his possessive streak always comes out in situations like this, making their kisses extra good and their sex extra hot.

“Careful now,” Sander breathes against his mouth, the pent up tension that accumulated last night and wasn’t relieved because Robbe was too drunk hitting him hard. It seems to be mutual because Robbe bites his lip seductively, impish smile letting Sander know that he’s getting the exact reaction he was hoping for.

“Or what?”

“Or I’m gonna carry you to bed the way I did last night, but the finale will be a little different.”

Suddenly, Robbe’s smile turns softer, the gear change leaving Sander a bit confused, but he welcomes it with a chuckle when Robbe snuggles close to him, nuzzling into his neck and letting out a content sigh.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs sweetly against his skin, breaking and healing Sander’s heart all at once. 

“I love you too, cutie. In elk universum.” 

A giggle erupts from Robbe at the universe line. “It’s been a while since you said that.”

Sander presses a kiss to his temple. “I think I'm feeling a bit nostalgic too.” 

***

The beach is slowly starting to fill out with people and bursting their little bubble so they get up reluctantly to the sounds of their grumbling stomachs that demand late breakfast. They notice their friends in the distance, spreading a huge blanket on the sand and carrying armfulls of food, and they walk over to them slowly, smiling goofily at each other and swaying their joined hands, paying no mind to people around. 

“Hey, Sander?” Robbe says suddenly.

“Yeah?”

“You’re gonna be dating a college boy now,” Robbe announces, and he sounds so proud and so adorable that Sander has to tease him a little.

He sighs, putting an extra edge of sorrow into it. “I think you’re getting too old for me, Robin.” A choked-off sound of pain follows, Robbe’s mellowy state not stopping him from jabbing his elbow in Sander’s ribs when he’s being a cheeky little shit. He should’ve known better by now - Robbe’s elbows are merciless. 

They arrive at the spot shoving each other playfully until Zoe yells at them to behave and sit their butts down like good boys to eat their food. They dig in without needing to be asked twice, their previous bickering forgotten as Robbe feeds him sandwiches, pretending they’re airplanes and making Sander and everyone around laugh hard.

This, today, yesterday, is a new memory. One that wipes away the angst he used to associate sea and beach with after enviously watching Robbe in the arms of someone else. 

This time, Robbe’s smiles are directed at him, his eyes are constantly seeking out him, hand slides surreptitiously into his hand, and Sander’s heart is bursting with happiness.

They’re going on a roadtrip this summer, just him and his favorite skater boy, and Sander cannot fucking wait. Just like he can’t wait for their future together.

And if there’s a ring sitting in his bottom drawer nobody needs to know for now. 

Robbe will find out in 55 days.

[spunkpunx]

Are Friends Electric? (Alex Turner)

Multi Part Series

Part 1: Dreamy Days

Sheffield 2002

"Is that a fookin' United shirt?"

"Yeah, so what? It's not mine, you know I support Owls."

"Am honestly disappointed in you, consortin' with the enemy an' that," Alex shook his head, refusing to look at the offending football shirt that I'd been forced into wearing.

"It was in lost property, an' you know what the PE teachers are like, they threatened to suspend me, Mam would kill me if they did," I replied, rubbing her legs in an attempt to warm them.

"Only 'cause you've been suspended before."

"Yeah well I don't want to do it again, she'd have me bloody guts for garters," I told him. He rolled his eyes. We were sat on an old bench around the back of the school, dressed in PE kits and smoking B&H cigarettes I had stolen off my mother. My football shorts were no match for the harsh January weather, but I was wearing a parka, hence why Alex had only just noticed the Sheffield United t-shirt. We couldn't leave school grounds yet, because in order to get out from behind we'd would have to go past the French classroom, and as the bell hadn't yet gone, there would still be Miss Kelly and a class of year 7s ready to catch us out.

"I'm fookin' freezing," Alex whined, putting out his fag on the wall and dropping it onto the floor. "At least you've got that bloody big coat."

I sighed and flicked my cigarette butt onto the floor, stomping it out with the toe of my trainer. "If we go over the wall you know you have to give me a leg up," I explained bluntly. He nodded along almost eagerly, likely desperate to get out the cold and home as soon as possible.

"I don't mind Jack, I just wanna leave."

"Right then," I replied, standing up, picking up my bag and putting a foot into a crack in the stone, grabbing the top edge where my fingers could just about catch grip on the rough stone. Alex came up behind me and put his hands on my shin, and using his hands to push against, I pulled herself up. Unfortunately, my foot slipped, and I began to fall back down, but my fall was stopped by the feeling of hands holding me up. Alex's hands, on my bum.

I felt my ears burning red, but not willing to have to try again, I pulled herself up using my arms and jumped down the other side. As soon as my feet touched the ground I climbed on top of the large wheelie bin that sat against the wall and grabbed Alex's arm as he clambered over as well. He was a lot taller than me now, he'd grown in a way only 15 year old boys do, all long limbs and clumsiness. I'd barely even noticed him shoot up. I helped him over and we jumped into the street below.

"Um... I'm sorry that I touched your..." Alex stuttered slightly, his cheeks going uncharacteristically red. I cut him off.

"Al, it's fine."

"I mean I-"

"It's fine," I repeated, more firmly. He shrugged and pushed his hands into his pockets, beginning to walk down the alley toward the road. I followed him, jogging slightly to catch up with his long strides.

"Am gonna join a band you know," he told me as we turned the corner onto the street. I looked at him in surprise.

"A band? Who wiv?" I questioned, confused.

"Matt."

"Matt Helders or Matt Sheppard?"

"Matt Helders of course! Av'e never even spoke to Matt Sheppard why on earth would I be talking about 'im?"

"Well I dunno do I? I didn't even know Matt Helders played an instrument, he's not singing is he?" I queried, scuffing my shoes along the floor.

Alex shook his head slightly. "He plays drums, I'm the singer."

"But you play guitar?" I could sense my brain was really struggling to keep up.

"I can do both, like Bowie."

"Don't compare yourself t'Bowie unless you go to your gigs dressed in a catsuit an' heels an' bat away crowds of lads and lasses who want to sleep with ya."

"I'm not against the crowds of lasses, but I don't think I could commit to the rest," he laughed cheekily. I gave him a playful punch in the shoulder.

"You're full of shit, you are," I grinned, as he rubbed his arm over-dramatically. Cars whizzed past as we reached the main road. Cars that caused slight rushes of air as the pair of us continued to walk, that's how close they drove past the pavement.  "Mine or yours?" I asked him.

"Yours, yer mam won't be back from work yet."

"Fairs."

A silence lulled in the conversation as we continued to walk down the street, Alex was scuffing his trainers along the floor. It was annoying as fuck but I didn't say owt.

"Did you hear what Rory Pike did today at lunch?"

"No?"

"He got his cock out on the school field," Alex divulged me, a laugh spread across his face. I couldn't help but join in the joke.

"Rory Pike is a world class minger," I told him, and soon we were both in stitches, adding extra gross details to the story to the amusement of each other.

"Did Cook finally ask tha' girl out then?" I changed the subject, catching my breath back from my laughing fit.

"'Course not, he jibbed again, then Simmo asked her instead," Alex explained.

"Simmo? Did she say yes?"

"Why would she? She clearly fancies Jamie."

"He needs to get his act together and ask her."

Alex nodded, momentarily in thought. He then very suddenly turned around and gave me a playful shove.

"First one to yours!" he exclaimed, quickly speeding off around the corner.

"Bastard," I muttered, beginning to run after him. I sprinted to catch up, but the awkward coat prevented me from getting anywhere near the speed his long limbs could get him. He legged it off and I was forced to slow my pace back down to a walk. The boy was clearly going to win and I had the house key so he'd have to wait outside for me anyway. I decided to take me time knowing I'd probably bump into Alex around the corner when he came back to see where I was. He'd probably be a bit moody about it, telling me off for being a fun sponge, and I'd apologise insincerely and then he'd give me an awkward side hug and tell me he couldn't stay angry at me, there's no way I'd let him. Then we would probably walk back to mine and be done with the matter.

This wasn't the case. I got round the corner, then the one after that, and didn't see any sign of Alex. There was no way he would still be running, he was too lazy and he would look like an idiot, racing against no one. He was a dafty but not that much of one. I began to get confused after I rounded the third corner and there was still not a sign of him.

"Oi Jackie!" Alex exclaimed, grabbing my shoulders from behind. I yelped in surprise and he burst out laughing.

"Fook you Alex Turner," I scolded him. "How did ya even get behind me?" He said nothing, and just tapped his nose conspiratorially.

Sheffield 2003

He knew everything there was to know about Jackie. He knew her favourite colour (red),her middle name (Arabella), her handwriting and everything else in between. Alex had known this for ages, but it had never weighed on his mind as much as it had recently.

It was the way he'd seen her the other night. There was a small gaff at someone or another's and Alex had gone with the boys. Jackie had showed up a bit later, dressed very differently to how he normally saw her. She had a leopard print mini skirt on and a tight, cropped t-shirt, along with her trainers and Adidas jacket. Of course he noticed her, lighting one of her L&B blues and trying to smoke it subtly; she was the only one smoking.

He had gone over and said hello, and she'd grinned when she saw him, glad of some company, he expected. Some 90s rave hit was playing, and cheesy lights flashed across the room. Trying too hard, he thought. She picked a beer off the counter she was leaning on and gave it to him. A Corona, lukewarm but still alcohol.

"D'ya wanna come for a spliff?" she asked him, patting her pocket, and he said yes. Her top was very tight, although he tried not to look, but he saw her bra, visible through the fabric. They went outside onto some kind of shitty balcony. She got what looked to be a large gram of weed and some Rizlas out, making an L and then ripping open a cigarette to get the tobacco out, she carefully sprinkled in some of the spliff and rolled. Alex didn't say anything, he just watched as she deftly rolled the joint. She lit the end and took her time, sitting down on a breeze block. He found himself a seat on the step.

"So how's t'band going, Arctic Monkeys i'nt it?"

"There's a gig coming up, at The Grapes," Alex told her, proudly. In fact, he puffed up slightly with pride. Jackie had never really got involved with the band, she said it weren't her business, but Alex still felt remarkably pleased whenever she showed an interest, especially if they were doing well.

"D'ya want me to come?"

"'Course! I thought you already were."

"Yeah I just... weren't sure, that's all," Jackie responded, unusually quiet. She was acting off with him.

"Is summit up?" Alex asked. She shrugged, taking another drag on her spliff and then handing it to him. "Jack?" he prompted further.

"It's nothing Al, jus' summit stupid," she replied. Her fingers fiddled with the edge of her sleeve. He decided to leave it, pushing her wouldn't make her tell him, it would just annoy her. He took a toke of the joint and they sat in silence for a moment.

"Wanna find some White Lightning and get hammered?" she asked and Alex grinned.

"Are you sure? That stuffs pretty lethal."

"Well fook it all we're not going home tonight," she replied, laughing slightly. Alex nodded, smiling, then passed her the spliff back. It was a still and cold night. Jackie let the smoke seep out her mouth and inhaled it through her nose.

They finished the spliff and went back inside. Alex found the rest of his mates and together they all got steaming. Simmo was acting strangely all night. Then Jackie started acting strange too. She was all quiet and snappy.

"Why were you being such a mardy bum yesterday," he asked her the next day. They were lounging about on the sofa at his, nursing two horrible headaches. She rolled her eyes at him.

"Not now Alex, I'm too hungover for this," she answered, misery clear in her voice.

"Just tell me and I'll stop naggin'" he told her, shuffling a bit closer so she couldn't turn over and ignore him.

"Your mate Simmo," she replied simply.

"What'dya mean? Look, I know the joke was a bit insensitive but tha's just what 'e's like," Alex began to explain, for some reason unknown to him, in Simmo's defence.

"It's not tha' you bloody great nit, he kissed me."

Alex couldn't explain why that came like a twist in the gut, but it did nonetheless. It made him stumble for his words for a moment.

"Oh," was all he managed to get out. "Did you kiss him back?"

"Of course not, he's funny, but a bit gross," Jackie replied, pulling a face, and Alex laughed. A strange sense of relief was felt somewhere in his system, although nowhere near enough to dull the queasy thud of his hangover. "'Sides, Chris asked me out the other day."

"Who the fook is Chris?"

"Chris Maher, from the garage."

"Him? You've lost your mind Jackie, he works at fookin' MotorWorld."

"He's funny! And he knows loads about cars, plus he can drive," she said stubbornly, crossing her arms.

"Why does it matter 'e can drive?"

"So I can get places, obviously," she responded dryly.

"I've almost passed me test!"

"Al, you're not even close to passing, I spoke to yer Dad an' he says you drive like you're drunk. 'Sides, I wouldn't want to get on your nerves, always cadgin' a lift." she explained, to Alex's disappointment.

"I didn't expect your type to be a guy who walks around in trackies, how desperate are ya?" Alex jabbed, a little cruelly. Jackie shot him a scathing look.

"Alexander, what is up with you? You were fine last night, an' now you're acting like I'm makin' you suck bloody lemons," she reprimanded him. She was trying to draw him into an argument, he could tell. He wasn't about to start a fight.

"Oh, it duen't matter," he said offhandedly, hoping to diffuse the issue, which seemed to work.

"He's actually a really lovely guy," Jackie added after a long pause.

"Ay, I'm sure he is," Alex replied halfheartedly.

[givemeonebreath]

A big, messy Linked Universe playlist

Link for Links

Heavy on the angst, because of who I am as a person. (At the same time, don’t take it too seriously, man.)

Influenced by canon, manga (TP Link is really Going Through It™ ), my personal perceptions, and popular fandom canon.

A pretty wide variety of genres, with a bias towards metal and prog rock.

I kept snippets of lyrics for most songs, also because of who I am as a person. (Some were particularly hard to narrow down to just one verse or chorus.) Those - and a little more rambling - are under the cut if you really want, in the order of the playlist. But. It’s long.

I didn’t initially make this with the intent to share, but hey. Throughout my past year+ of listening, I’ve been haphazardly adding songs to a playlist I very creatively named Links. If something reminded me of them, whether through the music or lyrics or both, I threw it on the playlist, so some songs might seem odd or vague. Some are really on the nose, as subtle as a sledgehammer. (Sky for Sky? Dude. Sorry.) Some are there because of a fitting line or two that stuck in my head. Ultimately, music - like any form of creative expression - can be interpreted in a multitude of ways. 

My listening habits and tastes are erratic, which is why this is one big, jumbled playlist and not separated for different Links. Not to mention if I did that, some (Wild, Legend) would have a lot and some (Wind, Four) would have none, both because of my own familiarity with them, and because of the general themes of the music I tend to listen to. Most songs are a general ‘hero’s spirit reborn’ mood, anyway - those are the first part of the playlist. The second half is more nuanced to specific Links, plus a few Ganon vibes.

1. Deep Purple - April (Koji Kondo, composer of the original Legend of Zelda theme, was into Deep Purple as a kid, and it shows.)

2. Kamelot - Regalis Apertura

3. Au4 - So Just Hang On, Beautiful One (I’ve posted this here before. I can’t hear it without thinking of LU now.) So I slipped in through the gate almost unknown. All my border stamps were late. Seven days old. Cold hand griped my shoulder blade, broke the bone. Bloody nose and turned away, all the way home.

4. FC Kahuna - Hayling Don’t think about all those things you fear, just be glad to be here

5. Glass Animals - Youth Boy, when I left you you were young I was gone, but not my love You were clearly meant for more Than a life lost in the war

6. Pain of Salvation - Restless Boy A restless boy in a world too slow A flame born into cinder, ash, and glow I've given everything I gave it all Yet find myself alone

7. Haken - The Endless Knot Our design shifted frame by frame! Across the line our cycle starts to fail. Our design shifted frame by frame! Across the line we die to live again.   We need a story to believe in. We need a hero to prevail. We need a challenge we can overcome, it takes a tragedy to make us one 

8. Kamelot - Memento Mori (I particularly associate this with Time and Twilight) I am the god in my own history The master of the game I may believe if she would come to me And whisper out my name Sometimes I wonder where the wind has gone If life has ever been Sometimes I wonder how belief alone Can cut me free from sin

9. Katatonia - Fighters Look I told you so We never stop If we said that We'll back it up For sure You know We're fighters

10. Megadeth - This Day We Fight! (I mean, all Links, but particularly Warriors) For this I was chosen, because I fear nothing With confidence I tread through the dead of the night Off to another war-torn, faraway battlefield Wherein lies a demonic enemy horde

11. Moon Tooth - Igneous Well, the spirit took me And this old broken body leapt up and danced Settin’ out Settin' out with all my heroes in a bundle at my back Hawk am I More wings span in my shadow than overcast Yeah, you know what they say Always need something to look up to, ha

12. Samael - Moongate Destiny, tomorrow is today Destiny, without boundaries How many nights will we spend together traveling infinity back and forth and again How many times will we go together questioning eternity about us about our wonders...

13. TOOL- Parabola This body holding me reminds me of my own mortality Embrace this moment, remember We are eternal, all this pain is an illusion

14. Lunatic Soul - Blood on the Tightrope No matter how hard you try To shut down your feverish thoughts They hunt you down with no regret Cause you have to fix it all

15. Hybrid - Keep It In The Family

16. Soul Savers - Unbalanced Pieces Gone, now carry on Through violent seasons I call you mother, mother, mother In vain, absent chain The twilight's bleeding And the playing board has two unbalanced pieces

17. Steve Von Till - Valley of the Moon All she gives is a stone facade Like ill-given flowers at a dead man's wake Here we slave for the dreams of another And fight over scraps like wayward dogs

18. Ludovico Einaudi - Experience

19. Lunatic Soul - Summoning Dance Three stones on the right side Three stones on the left My vicious circle of life and death   “Oh you want it” I hear it again “Oh you want it” My burden Curse to break

20. Lunatic Soul - Through Shaded Woods Run through your shaded woods Run through your shaded mind Run through the night Run away Run through the darkness Run

21. Lunatic Soul - Naavie

22. David Bowie - Nature Boy There was a boy A very strange, enchanted boy They say he wandered very far Very far, over land and sea A little shy and sad of eye But very wise was he

23. The Dandy Warhols - Sleep Well, I could sleep forever But it's of her I dream If I could sleep forever I could forget about everything 

24. Au4 - Everyone is Everyone (and Everything is Everything) Tripping and tumbling, Flipping and fumbling. Flowing on the rivers of sadness That have been forever rumbling.   But from dawn until now Of all the paths that I could have gone down Of all the valleys That I could have been flowing through.   In spite of all the chaos And all that has come between us, How is it I still find myself Here with you. 

25. Kingcrow - Everything Goes Your hands again upon the ground Falling rain for hours and hours As you learn the game Time dispels the fog ... Ever been there? Ever felt like prey? Ever thought your mind was feeble? Lot of things that don’t make sense

26. Pain of Salvation - Icon As a child I felt too old And now when I'm grown-up I feel too young A different kind so I've been told Just slightly out of reach and out of time

27. Sophia Loizou - Divine Interference (I got spooky dungeon vibes. Also, the title.)

28. Carpenter Brut - Fab Tool Runnin Gunnin Forward in the phantom shatter so grand Splatter grand, arcanum fuel Wrought iron out of the sky Over me, tells no lie

29. Blue Stahli - Death Will Have to Run All on the open road Where none will ever grow A journey toward the known With countless miles to go

30. Gyroscope - Mistakes & Ladders I am the first? No I can't be the first A continuous nothing, destined for something Tell me who you are and why you trapped me here

31. Queens of the Stone Age - Run, Pig, Run Run, pig, run Here I come

32. Chali 2na & Krafty Kuts - Guard The Fort The swords are drawn and odds are stacked And we clash the impact's a thunderous clap Calm demeanor Even though we are under attack [...my turn to guard the fort ready for combat]

33. The Great Discord - Army of Me (lol)

34. Kongos - Terrified I think I'll start again and change my name You only live once or twice, what a shame Somebody fucked up when designing this game

35. Woodkid - Run Boy Run Run, boy, run! This ride is a journey to Run, boy, run! The secret inside of you Run, boy, run! This race is a prophecy Run, boy, run! And disappear in the trees

36. The Beta Machine - The End A million miles away from you this time I'll do what it takes I'm on my way If lines are in the sand I'll go under If I can make it in time I will bring you back with me

37. Devin Townsend Project - Gump When we last met who was I? I'm sorry we no longer see eye to eye The energy to keep you in while keeping myself out I'm sorry how you'll take this  But I just don't have the patience anymore 

38. Arrested Youth - Riot! I can't get much satisfaction living in this cave It's tough to breathe, I'm in the belly of the beast Can't sleep with all my rage With me and all my generations living in this cage Pick up your guns and tell your sons, tonight we break the cage

39. Led Zeppelin - Friends So anytime somebody needs you Don't let them down, although it grieves you Some day you'll need someone like they do Looking for what you knew

40. Faunts - M4, pt 2 (Wild) Fight your foes you're not alone Holy war is on the phone Asking to please stay on hold Bleeding loss of blood runs cold And I need you to recover   Because I can't make it on my own

41. Faith No More - Ashes to Ashes (Wild) I want them to know it's me, it's on my head I'll point the finger at me, it's on my head Smiling with the mouth of the ocean And I'll wave to you with the arms of the mountain

42. Devin Townsend - Jupiter (Wild) I know you At least I think I do Everything's changed But in the days that are so dark It's wonderful

43. Katatonia - Neon Epitaph (Wild) Shadow of my shadow Cling not to my grief I am long left behind now You are free

44. The Smashing Pumpkins - The Beginning is the End is the Beginning (Wild) Time has stopped before us The sky cannot ignore us No one can separate us For we are all that is left The echo bounces off me The shadow lost beside me There's no more need to pretend Cause now I can begin again 

45. Katatonia - Lacquer (Wild) My voice travelling Soaring bird above your head The house we lived in Ridden with disease ... The levee breaking I can't live to fight once more The road to the grave is straight as an arrow I'm just staying around to sing your song, baby

46. Eskimo Joe - This is Pressure (Wild) There is no romance in suffocation  The walls fall down like your expectations You want to scream  And you want to shout But you've built up steam  And you can't let it out This is pressure 

47. Portugal. The Man - 1000 Years (Wild) We'll wait 1000 years  Until the end of time We'll wait 1000 more Dressed up in gold and white We'll climb the mountain sides  To find what's in the sky We'll dig through mountain sides  To find what's deep inside

48. Au4 - An Ocean’s Measure of Sorrow (Wild) Forgot my name and who I was. Memories of nothing floating up. All of the sorrow we once knew, Colours the ocean's water blue.

49. Band of Skulls - Carnivorous (Twilight) I am corrosive and cohesive Like a chemical bond I'm all together undone I am the broken kingdom I'm just so, so, so  So carnivorous

50. Glass Animals - Flip (Twilight) I wanna go back with a club and attack I wanna take to my guns and break you I gotta make my little foe take his own

51. TV on the Radio - Wolf Like Me (Twilight) My mind has changed my body's frame, but, God, I like it My heart's aflame, my body's strained, but, God, I like it

52. Kamelot - The Spell (Twilight) All my demons cast a spell The souls of dusk rising from the ashes So the book of shadows tell The weak will always obey the master

53. OSI - Radiologue (Legend) I was dreaming I was heading west thirty days faster Had a fever woke up in a sweat bailing out the water  Can't go on Can't go back   Heard your voice coming through the noise wrote it in the radio log Hurt my head, wondering what you said so I threw it overboard  

54. Katatonia - Don’t Tell A Soul (Legend) I have been destroyed by the perfection that is a lie see I'm moving soon see my feet are already on the road and if you know where I’m going don’t tell a soul

55. Haken - The Mind’s Eye (Legend) The shape of things to come are closer than they seem Changing your design every time you disappear I'm planning my escape through portals of your mind Where people seem to drop like flies

56. Pain of Salvation - Species (Legend) Sometimes I hate my fucking species Yet most days I'll do anything to please it  My generation was fooled to pursue our dreams But it is not what it seems You never need what you want And you rarely want what you need

57. Euringer - Do You Kiss Your Mama with That Mouth? (Legend) All my life, misunderstood I'm fuckin' too smart, too smart for my own good The last question, before I go is "Hey motherfucka, do you kiss your mama with that mouth?"  Yes! I kiss your mama with this mouth

58. !!! - Pardon My Freedom (Legend) Like I give a fuck, like I give a shit Like I give a fuck about that shit Like I give a fuck about that motherfucking shit

59. Team Sleep - Ataraxia (Legend) Froze asleep Coma deep I dream I'm out with you Alone at sea

60. Oliver Tank - Embrace (Legend) You're in my dreams The world is torn apart at the seams And I don't wanna leave Wearing my heart on it's sleeve

61. Machine Gun Fellatio - The Girl of My Dreams (Is Giving Me Nightmares) (Legend) The girl of my dreams is giving me nightmares I don't know what it means but she's got multi-coloured hair When she stands in the sand I dream of peaches And I'm not sure what that means either

62. Earl Greyhound - Shotgun (Legend & Hyrule) I am nobody, nobody is who I am I am a traveler on this land And nothing, nothing, nothing in my hands

63. TV on the Radio - Staring at the Sun (Hyrule) You're staring at the sun You're standing in the sea Your mouth is open wide You're trying hard to breathe The water's at your neck There's lightning in your teeth Your body's over me

64. Echo & The Bunnymen - The Killing Moon (Time) Fate Up against your will Through the thick and thin He will wait until You give yourself to him

65. Sufjan Stevens - Sugar (Sky) Don’t break my heart, don’t break my flow now And all this rage has got to go now Let’s take up this lifeline Come on, baby, gimme some sugar Don’t make me wait Don’t make me wait too long Don’t make me sing the sad song Come on, baby, gimme some sugar

66. Obsydians - Ascension (Sky) Rise above the hardships you’ll face I will sign and keep on rising As long as you are giving me your soul and keep me awake Feel like home and spread your light around I will listen and just be there As long as you are giving me your love I’ll give you my soul

67. Sonique - Sky -_-

68. Enter Shikari - The King (Ganon) Watch your back, my friend I'm about to kickstart a cycle Of never ending revenge And this time it's primal, it's tribal

69. Saul Williams - WTF! (Ganon, Hylia) "You've been polluted, uprooted by time You have been muted, computed but I'm A living vessel of the one, of the moon, of the sun" Hey! You ain't as dead as you seem, what the fuck? Hey! But you keep living your lies

70. These New Puritans - We Want War (Ganon/ Dark Link/ any nemesis I guess) Shadows dance back up, it's happening again If you listen carefully you might hear them whisper: "We hold all the secrets, we hold all the words; But they're scrambled and broken so you'll never know" Can't you see them Floating like black ash? Can't you feel them Crawling down your back?

[punkcupcakestyles]

Sober up

So, quick note: I wrote this for the pypfc that the absolute babes @oh-honey-styles​ and @for-fucks-sake-h​ put together. I hope you enjoy it. 

Part 1

If someone were to ask, there was a lot of alcohol involved. A lot. 

It was too late to pretend it was never your intention. 

It was just that your courage tasted like margaritas. 

***

Harry was an asshole, everyone knew that. He was one of those pretty assholes, with the sweet smile, which made it hard to hate him, but, oh, you tried. 

It didn’t always work, but you tried. 

It’s what matters, isn’t it?

The night when it all began, it was unseasonably warm, and you stepped out of the crowded house to take a break before you could sweat...more. It had been a good idea to wear a dress, cause the light breeze was easing out the warmth of your skin.

You felt relaxed for the first time that night. 

The porch was empty and quiet, which was just what you were looking for: A moment of silence to break the noise. You were settling in, even stepping out of your high heels to feel the cold floor under your feet, when the door suddenly swung open behind you. You turned around, startled by the loud music that was booming inside. Harry didn’t see you, or better yet, he chose to ignore you, as he walked out of the house, carefully holding the waist of a blonde girl as she stumbled on her own feet. 

Tipsy would be an understatement. 

You looked at him carefully, crossing your arms over your chest, as you watched the way he softly guided her out of the house. It was truly a sight to be seen, the girl kept giggling and trying to get out of his hold, as she kept grabbing at him, his shirt, his hair, whatever she could reach. She smiled drunkenly at him and he whispered soft words at her that you couldn’t hear. 

A mocking smile curled up the corner of your lips as your eyes followed him, seeing as Harry helped the girl climb into an Uber and waited for her to leave. 

“Awww, poor baby...are you losing your charm?” You bit as he walked towards you. He was wearing a red worn-out flannel shirt, with a white graphic tee underneath. His black jeans were sinfully tight.

“Wanna find out?” He smirked, brushing off your words as easily as they slipped out of your lips. 

“Thank you, wouldn’t want to catch something,” you said, to his amusement and your disappointment. 

“Or have any fun, that wouldn’t be like you.”

It had been like this for a while, ever since you met him, when he stole your morning coffee cup from you, shamelessly. He kept denying it, though, saying it was you who wanted to steal his much needed coffee before an early lit class. How cruel could you be?

He was a pest, a literal one. You would compare him to a moth if anyone were to ask, but in reality, he was more like some source of light where all the girls gravitated to. All the boys as well. 

Everyone but you.  

He stood next to you, leaning on the handrail as he looked at the empty street. He smelled a bit of soap and a citric perfume, and a bit of spilled vodka and lime. He flashed you a smile, an obnoxious one that let you know he was looking for a reaction from you. You held your breath, still refusing to be the first to give in. 

“Why aren’t you inside?” He asked after a few seconds of silence, and you noticed how his curls bounced a little bit as he suddenly turned to look at you with curiosity shining in his big, bright, green eyes. 

“It was hot. And I don’t know where my boyfriend is,” you mumbled.

He chuckled at this, that kind of low and dry laughter that comes with bad news. You breathed in slowly, letting the sudden dreadful feeling take over your chest. Bad news were indeed coming, you could feel it in your aching bones. 

“What?” you snapped. 

“Nothin’”

“You’re an idiot, did you know that?” You tore yourself away from the handrails, ready to get the hell out of there. Away from Harry and the intense way he always made you feel.

But Harry stopped you in your tracks, his long fingers wrapping around your wrist and pulling you closer to his chest. The sudden movement made you crash against him, and your eyes widened in surprise as he looked down at you with that stupid smile of his. 

“What?!”

“Your boyfriend’s fucking his best friend. That’s why you can’t find him.”

The words had barely registered in your brain, but you were ready to fight them. Your hand went to his chest and you pushed him away until you were free of his touch. You could feel the rage boiling in your veins, but all that fire could only be aimed at Harry, he could handle it, he deserved it. 

“Oh, that’s pathetic, Harry, lying like that!”

“Why would I do that?”

“Cause he’s a good guy, unlike you!”

“He’s not that different from the guy you think I am,” he replied, calm and softly, as if you were a wounded animal and he was afraid that you would attack him. Easy, slowly, quietly, that was the best way to approach you.  

“Of course he is!!!”

“Look, I know you cannot be a very good fuck, so I get it,” he sighed as if he regretted saying anything at all. “But he’s cheating on you with his best friend. I’ve seen them. Been meaning to tell you.”

“Margaret has a boyfriend, she’s gonna get married,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest in a victory gesture. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. 

“I never said it was a girl.”

***

It wasn’t with a girl. 

It was his best friend David. 

He was prettier than you, you would give him that.

And even though the realization didn’t come as hurtful as expected, days of torment came ahead. The most annoying thing was the fact that people looked at you as if you were stupid, worthy of pity. You hated the fact that everyone was treating you as if you were made of glass and could break apart if someone held you too hard. 

Everyone but Harry. 

He kept treating you like he usually did; like you bored him to death. His disinterested glare would follow you from time to time, as he bit the side of his cheek, which made his jawline pop even more, maybe waiting for you to fuck up. 

He was fucking obnoxious. 

***

If anything, going out that night had been a bad idea. Your head was fuzzy, maybe from all of the margaritas you’ve had. It was cheap alcohol, so you could only expect a massive headache. 

Once again, you found yourself at the porch, witnessing how Harry helped a brunette get inside a car. He kept his head low, maybe hoping you hadn’t noticed it was him. But you noticed, and you had to let him know. It was the least he deserved. 

“Do you think,” you started to ask as he walked by you on his way to the house. “they know you are a bad fuck and that’s why they’re running away? Cause, dude, something is going on...”

It caught his attention, no doubt, and Harry turned on his heels, walking menacingly towards you. He was taller than you, so when he stood in front of you, it almost felt like you should take a step back. Or maybe two. 

“Do you really think I’m a bad fuck?” He whispered and his voice made you shiver. It wasn’t fear what you were feeling, not quite. It was a new type of excitement, one that only grew as you stare into his eyes and his lips curled into a mocking smile. 

“I bet you are,” you whispered back, hoping to get a reaction out of him. You just didn’t know what you were expecting. 

“Why does it sound like you want to find out?” He cocked his head, still staring into your eyes. He was definitely amused.

“Nah, I’m good with disappointments.”

He took one step closer.

“Are you sure?”

You could feel his warm breath fanning over your skin and the electricity that was scrambling up to his skin. It almost felt like the world had stopped, leaving only and Harry to slowly burn under each other’s stare.

You gulped. Maybe you weren’t so sure after all. Not sure at all.

“What if I’m not?”

Your words were barely a whisper, fueled by your heart beating so hard that it was pressing against your neck. You had no idea where this was coming from, but you felt a sudden urgency to know what his lips tasted like. 

“I knew you liked me,” he smirked before turning around to enter the house. 

***

Every effort you had made to avoid him came to a violent end.

There you were, stuck in his car while he drove you to God knows where. 

You peered up to him, noticing how he bobbed his head to the rhythm of Fame by David Bowie. His two fingers drummed over the steering wheel, and he hummed lightly, focusing on the road ahead of him. He was wearing a green snapback backward, that crushed his curls and a black plaid shirt, that he was wearing unbuttoned halfway down his chest. 

“Don’t pout,” he said when his eyes met yours, and you quickly looked away, suddenly interested in the dust that covered the road. Where the fuck was that party?

It was supposed to be a week getaway, now that your days as a college student where officially running out. Alcohol, party, guilt-free junk food and sex...for those who had someone to fuck. 

No orgies were allowed. That would make it weird. 

The thought occurred to you and you briskly looked at Harry, narrowing your eyes as you saw him smiling. 

“Why didn’t you bring anyone?” You asked and he shrugged, still looking ahead at the road.

“Who would I bring?”

“I dunno, one of your many girls. You must have a list.”

“Didn’t have time to pick anyone up, you don’t know how to fix your bloody car.” 

His accent did things to you when it got rough. 

Not that you would ever admit it. 

“You could’ve left me there. I would’ve called an Uber.”

“Yeah, and then you would’ve told everyone I was an asshole.”

“Oh, I always say that about you. It wouldn’t make a difference,” you smirked, giggling a bit as he turned to glare at you. “And I don’t know how to fix my car cause Andrew always did that for me.”

Harry switched on his seat and his face turned somber, almost uncomfortable, which made you feel bad for some reason. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “Were you...did you...fuck!”

“Am I dying of a broken heart?” you helped him. “No, I just wanted an explanation, y��know?”

“Of course you did,” he snorted, and his smile came back as he shook his head in half-surprise. “You would want an explanation so you could tell him his explanation was idiotic.” You tipped your head, looking as his smile as he slowly turned around to look at you once more. “I knew you’d be alright, I should’ve told you earlier.”

“I wouldn’t have believed you.”

“I know, that’s what lets me sleep at night,” he said softly, as his lips curled into a half-smirk. 

It felt weird, to be in a car with him without going at each other’s throats. You were natural enemies, like cats and dogs, or some guys and showers. There was no need (or way) to explain the animosity between you two. It was something you could always count on. 

You closed your eyes, sighing aimlessly as he drove around, as a subtle way to let him you were done with this conversation. And every other that could follow it. 

Talking to Harry made all of the feelings come back, made you feel warm and your skin prickled with something that could only be described as excitement. It made you feel giddy. 

You had realized that years ago. You had never even tried to understand it. 

You opened your eyes again when the car came to a full stop, and Harry parked in front of a huge white house. The air felt salty and the music coming from the house was so loud it made you wince a little bit. It took you a bit to gather your bits, and you slowly stepped out of the car as Harry got all your things from the back of it. Leaning on the car, you waited for him until he stood in front of you. 

“Ready?” You asked him, not even pretending that you were gonna help him carry shit. 

He looked at the house and peered at you again as if he was deciding whether he was ready to go in. You looked at him, as his eyes traveled from your eyes to your mouth, and that same electricity took over the air, the same anticipation that almost made you lick your lips. “What?” You mumbled as he stepped so close that he was all you could see. 

“Shhh…Before we get drunk,” was all he said before he pressed his soft mouth to yours. Your breath hitched in your throat and your eyes fluttered close, shivering as his fingertips pressed to your ticklish neck. It was a soft kiss, a slow one, as he was getting to know you, exploring every second of your reaction. His hand dropped to the curve of your waist, and he pushed you against the car, trapping you between his arms. It wasn’t like you were going anywhere. Not even the thought of fighting him had crossed your mind. Your own hands held to him, slowly grazing over his muscles as you brought them to his shoulders. 

Curiosity was burning in your tummy. It all made sense, all was right. 

He was right, kissing him while you were both drunk would’ve been a waste of a wonderful opportunity. His lips were sweet and soft, and the weight of his body pressing down to yours felt heavenly. Your body molded to his and your heart pumped almost expectantly as he tipped your head just slightly, so he could deepen the kiss. Slowly, you parted your lips for him, moaning as he pulled your bottom lip between his teeth. 

A loud crash came from the house, and you both broke the kiss, staring at it as you expected it to blow into a billion pieces. But it remained standing, a loud curse filling the air, followed by a million cheers. The party had indeed started. 

Your eyes traveled to Harry before he turned around, wondering if it had all been a dream. Deep down, you had always wondered how it would be to kiss him. It was better than you could ever imagine. 

Why did you hate him again?

***

The rules of the house were quite simple: If you were single, you were fair game. People could hit on you. Things could happen. 

You had never really thought about it, never had to. That’s what Andrew was for, to shield you from the bitter breath of drunk boys while they tried to convince you to fuck them. 

But now that Andrew was out of the picture, it almost seemed like you had a sign on your head that reads “offer to fuck me. I’m open”. So boys kept droning around you, and your veins were already buzzing from all the alcohol they had offered you. 

If only you could take your eyes off of Harry. He had decided to ignore you most of the afternoon, spending his time with his friends by the pool, smiling at girls that kept stumbling his way, as if he were a fucking magnet and they had no other choice. You couldn’t stop yourself from looking at him, even though you tried to keep your distance, staying by the kitchen and only coming out when it was strictly necessary. 

His skin was almost golden now, and his muscles glistened with droplets of water as he entered the house. His eyes fell on you, and he rolled them as he saw Baz standing next to you, smiling almost lustfully as he leaned in closer and offering you another drink that you subtly left aside. Still, Harry made his way to the kitchen, standing right behind you as he pretended to be looking for a glass. 

“So,” Bas dragged and you realized it was fucking hard to focus on him when Harry was near. “What do you say?” He asked and even though you had no idea what he was talking about, you nodded, out of politeness. His smile spread wide and you looked at him as he left, with a triumphant air on his step. 

“You’re not going up to his room, right? He’s looking for condoms, the twat,” Harry spoke as soon as you were alone and you narrowed your eyes as you looked at him. His jaw was locked and he pushed his bottom lip out, biting on the sides of it as he shook his head lightly. 

“What if I do?” You asked as coolly as you could. Your hands found the edge of the counter behind me and you leaned against it as you tried to copy his usual cool demeanor. As if the world didn’t matter. As if he already owned it. You realized now what you had agreed to. The answer was no, you weren’t going anywhere with Bas, but it wasn’t Harry’s problem. “You’re always saying I am no fun.”

“There are better ways to have fun…” One step closer was all it took for him to take your breath away. Your will quivered under his smile, as he looked down at you and his warm breath fanned over your skin. “Don’t you think?” He whispered and he was made out of trouble. You should stay away from him. 

“Someone could say you’re offering to fuck me.”

“What if I am?” He shrugged, placing the glass he was holding onto the counter right next to you. It was enough to raise goosebumps on your arms. 

He didn’t let you answer. It was probably going to be something stupid, a jab you didn’t mean, you both knew that. So you allowed his fingers to lace with yours, and you followed him as he made his way to the tiny bathroom by the kitchen. 

People could see you, you were aware of that, but they were probably too wasted to care, or What exactly were you doing, following him while your whole body burned in anticipation? Adding your name to an already long list of names?

That was not a question you had an answer for, and you didn’t care much about it. Whatever it was that you were doing, felt like the right choice. 

You would worry about the consequences later. 

His hands are on your body as soon as the door closes behind you, but this time it doesn’t catch you by surprise. You were expecting it, craving him. 

He was shirtless, so there was nothing to hold on to but his skin, so your fingers grazed over his smooth chest and pressed them to his neck as his hot mouth pressed to yours. He tasted like gin and beer and a little bit of weed. His hands settled on your bum, pulling you closer to him until you had no other choice but to wrap your leg around his hips to give yourself some balance. 

Your fingers pushed into his hair and you pulled on his curls, making him moan lightly as his fingers dug into the meaty flesh of your curves. His lips were soon leaving yours and he trailed heavy, wet kisses on your jawline, traveling down your neck at the same time his fingers snuck under the fabric of your cotton blue skirt. 

It felt natural, as natural as hating him felt. 

You sucked in air as his fingertips brushed over the hem of your panties, and his teeth grazed over the sweet spot below your ear, right where your pulse was beating wildly. 

His touch was ticklish, exciting, something new. Your hands fell on his shoulders and pressed lightly to them as he continued to make his way down your body. He kissed whatever sliver of skin he could find, pushing your shirt up so he could suck on the swell of your breasts and humming as he crouched in front of you, which made your feet fall back on the floor and caused you to stumbled a little. 

Your eyes met as he knotted the waistline of your undies in his fingers, pushing it down until they were pooling around your feet. It made your tummy bubble in excitement and your bottom lip rolled into your mouth as you saw him kiss the upper part of your thighs. 

He was taking his sweet time, pressing soft kisses to your hips and your thighs, until you moaned in exasperation, almost begging him to do something before you lost your mind. 

None of you had said a word since you entered the bathroom, and you weren’t going to be the first one to talk. It might break the spell. It might bring you back to reality, and force you to run out of there. Away from him and whatever feeling that was throbbing in your lower tummy. 

“Fuck,” the word escaped your lips before you could even think it through, as Harry bit lightly on your thigh, and his finger slid to your clit to massage it softly. 

You could feel his smirk against your skin. 

“Look at me,” he commanded, right before his tongue slid between your folds. You did, you looked at him as he licked from your center to your clit, forcing yourself not to close your eyes out of pleasure when he wrapped his lips around the pink little bud and sucked lightly on it.

It sent shivers up your body and you had to bite your bottom lip just to hold your moan down. He smirked against you, letting your clit go so he could lick the wetness that was already dripping on your center. His breath swirled on hot puffs of air against you, as he worked on you, licking and sucking like you were the most delicious dessert.

Your leg hooked around his shoulder and both of his arms wrapped around your hips, pulling you closer as he went back to suck and flick on your clit with the tip of his tongue. It wasn’t like anything you had experienced before, he wanted to taste every inch of you, his tongue lapped deliciously against your folds and your knees felt weak, maybe because your legs were shivering with every new movement of his tongue. 

You couldn’t bear it anymore and your fingers tangled on his hair to keep his head still as your hips rocked against his face. It was slow, cause you wanted to enjoy the feeling of his tongue sliding between your folds. Every now and then, he would stop you, so he could suck and kiss on your clit. 

“Fuck!!”

It doesn’t take you long to feel how your walls start to tighten and clench with every new lap of Harry’s tongue. The bubble of bliss in your tummy burst and you pulled hard on his hair as the world blurred at his edges and your tummy trembled with the euphoria of your high.  

Harry’s breath was rough as he forced his forehead to yours and you pressed your fingers to his cheek, feeling his flustered skin before you kissed him. 

“You don’t hate me so much now, do you?” He smirked against your lips. 

“It was a one time only. Don’t get excited.”

***

It wasn’t a one time only. You fucked that very night, in the darkness of his room, with his hand on your mouth so your loud moans wouldn’t alert anyone. You rode him, enjoying the way his thick cock would burn slightly every time you took him all in. He bit your chest and sucked on your tits, leaving faded marks that you had to hide for at least a week. 

You also fucked in the morning, this time in your room, before everyone woke up. Something good had to come up out of your breakup with Andrew, and you had a room all to yourself. It was lazy and slow, and you kissed sweetly, while your arms were wrapped around his neck and your legs were hooked around his hips. 

It was a week thing only, you swore to yourself. 

***

“I don’t wanna go,” he mumbled against the pillows, his eyes close stubbornly as you turned to look at him. 

4 months had gone by since that party. You were clearly not very good at keeping your promises. 

“Harry,” you whispered, even though you weren’t actually sure if you wanted him to go. “They’ll find out.”

It was the very first time he had spent the night, the whole night, in your bed. You hadn’t even had sex. You were on your period and he came to your door, looking like a capeless hero as he held a bag full of goodies: Ice-cream, chocolate, Nutella, cheese puffs, everything you swore you could never eat, but craved when you were on your days. You spent the night watching Netflix and actually chilling, which was weird enough. 

It wasn’t something you usually did, but he had a cold and wanted to be coddled. So, why not?

“Let’em.”

You still hadn’t told anyone. You weren’t sure how to bring the subject up to your friends. “Hey, remember how I always said that Harry was an asshole and probably had a small dick? Yeah, I’ve sucked him off. Great fuck,” didn’t seem like something you would say. 

Your nose bumped against his, and you pulled your hand out of the warm of your covers to press your fingers to his cheek, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before you closed your eyes again. 

There was no use in fighting him. 

He usually won. 

***

“I think you should leave through the window,” you stated later that morning, looking at a blank point on the wall. Anything to avoid looking at him. It was harder when you saw him leave. 

“Are you mad? We’re on a second floor!” He asked you, barely able to hold himself up as he was putting on his jeans. His accent was thick and almost dripping with honey. There were very few instances where his accent got rough, which was a shame, cause it made your knees weak. When he was fucking you, deep and slow and your fingers pulled on his hair or your walls clenched around his cock, that’s when his accent came out.

“There’s people downstairs, Harry,” you insisted, even though your tummy twisted in a knot at the thought of him hurting himself because of you.

“We’ll tell them we were studying.”

“They won’t believe it.”

“Then let’em believe whatever the fuck they want,” Harry said, suddenly serious as he stared at you.

“They’ll believe we’re fucking! They don’t need to know that!!”

“Are you...Are you ashamed of me??” He laughed in disbelief, and you felt your face flare up as your eyes went to focus on a loose thread on your covers. 

“You’re not the type of guy I usually date, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry I’m not a closeted gay, babe. Or a stuck-up-horse-riding club boy.”

Your eyes snapped at him, but it was too late. He was already gone. 

***

You had no right to be mad, you knew that much. 

But still, your blood was raging. 

He was sweaty, all of you were. It was one of those stupid competitions that your friend Rose would put together from time to time. ‘Let’s play volleyball, even though none of us really knows how to!” “Let’s run stupidly around campus!” “Let’s all train for a 10k!” 

You couldn’t stop looking at him, the way his tattooed chest glistened and his golden skin were taut around his muscles. He was wearing a pair of white running shorts and that stupid green snapback and his curls were poking out of it as if they were screaming for help. It was the first time you saw him, since that morning in your room, and he looked fucking good.  

As soon as the race was over, the boys had decided to get drunk, and you all followed them to someone’s house, so you could all enjoy the sunny day, without running your lungs out. You were all aware that it defeated Rose’s efforts to keep you fit, but you didn’t care much about it. 

And now, the day was giving in to the night, and you all had had too much to drink. Everyone but you. All you cared about was Harry and the way kept flirting with the blonde girl that sat next to him. 

You couldn’t blame him, she was fucking hot, sporting black shorts and a red sports bra that barely did anything to cover her poking nipples. You would’ve been flirting with her too if you could. 

She put a hand on his leg and leaned over as if to tell him a secret and you almost growled, spreading your palms over the table as you looked carefully at them. You couldn’t stop, and you wished you could say you didn’t care. But you cared, more increasingly as the days went by, and right now you felt like your heart was racing in your chest, preparing itself for the moment it had to break. 

He looked at her, with his eyes half-closed, and allowed her as she leaned over him and pressed her lips to his. She kissed him, hitching her hand closer to his bulge as he kissed her back. 

Your heart didn’t break, it just stopped, it stopped beating and you stopped breathing. You could feel it cracking in your chest, and you could do was stand there and stare at them. 

The girl giggled as she broke the kiss apart and Harry smiled lazily at her, telling her something before he got up from the couch to walk to the kitchen, holding some red plastic cup in his hands. 

He stopped dead in his steps as he saw you, and his eyes went wide as he realized what had happened. Any haziness in his face went away and he stepped towards you, placing the cup on the counter as you recoiled back, trying to look busy in the empty kitchen. 

“Babe…”

“That’s not my name,” you whispered, biting into the corner of your lips as you looked away from him. You were ready to leave. You picked up your gym bag from the floor and tossed it over your shoulder. “And s’not any of my business, Harry. Go ahead, have fun.”

“Don’t leave, please.”

“Why? Do you want me to go upstairs and watch you two fuck?”

“Don’t…don't blame this all on me. Don’t be unfair.”

“Oh, no, you’re right, Harry. I should blame myself”

“You’re the one that doesn’t want anyone to know!!” He insisted and you looked at him with rage firing in your eyes. “I was just…I shouldn’t have kissed her. I’m just...a bit drunk...”

“I don’t need to know, Harry. Let’s go back to what it was, hating each other was easier.”

“You don’t hate me,” he whispered as he grabbed your arm, stopping you before you could leave.

“I do.”

“Oh, I don’t know. If you hated me, you wouldn’t scream my name so loud when I’m fucking you.”

“Fuck off, we’re done.”

[captainjanegay]

Apartment 16 | Stucky | Meet Dumb Cute | 5k words | Ao3

Summary:

"Finally, he sees the longed-for number 16 on the door in front of him and bends to retrieve the key. Luckily, it's still there. Bucky thinks about the fact that in just a few minutes he'll finally be able to lay down, fall asleep and forget about the dull ache in all of his muscles for a few hours. It's a very nice thought. It makes him let out a small, happy sigh as he opens the door and sneaks into the dark apartment.

The light coming from the window in the living room is not much but enough for Bucky to realise that there's a dog. A big dog is standing in the middle of the hallway, its head cocked to the side as it watches Bucky. It's fair and huge, a golden retriever if Bucky was to guess.

It wouldn’t be weird if Bucky just ignored the fact that Natasha did not have a dog."

A/N: Here’s a random thing I wrote to escape from the other fic I’m working on. It was supposed to be a short ficlet and here we are at 5k. It was really fun to write and I hope you’ll have fun reading it :��)

My fourth fill for the @stuckybingo2020 ♥

There are eighty-seven steps to get to the 5th floor of the building Natasha lives in. It is at least eighty steps too many. In normal circumstances Bucky probably wouldn’t complain. He got used to the permanently broken elevator and he was in good enough condition not to die of exhaustion climbing those damn stairs on a normal day. But all of this doesn't matter at 4 AM when Bucky's completely exhausted—both physically and mentally—after his shift at the bar. In those circumstances he can complain as much as he fucking wants, thank you very much.

Despite all the stairs, he is really thankful for Natasha. His own apartment is not that far, maybe a twenty minute walk from here. But he'd rather fall asleep on the street than walk all the way to his place right now. So bless the permanent permission to crash on Natasha's couch whenever he feels like it. She even keeps a spare key under her mat—a foolproof hiding place, so obvious that nobody ever bothers to check there and break into her apartment.

Finally, he sees the longed-for number 16 on the door in front of him and bends to retrieve the key. Luckily, it's still there. Bucky thinks about the fact that in just a few minutes he'll finally be able to lay down, fall asleep and forget about the dull ache in all of his muscles for a few hours. It's a very nice thought. It makes him let out a small, happy sigh as he opens the door and sneaks into the dark apartment. Taking off his shoes, he turns to lock the door. Then, he freezes. He can hear a weird noise from behind his back, like... clacking against the wooden floor. Slowly, he turns around.

The light coming from the window in the living room is not much but enough for Bucky to realise that there's a dog. A big dog is standing in the middle of the hallway, its head cocked to the side as it watches Bucky. It's fair and huge, a golden retriever if Bucky was to guess.

It wouldn’t be weird if Bucky just ignored the fact that Natasha did not have a dog.

A few more seconds pass. Bucky starts wondering if he didn’t in fact pass out from exhaustion somewhere between the bar and Natasha’s place and all this is just ravings of his tired brain. After a moment of deliberation, Bucky wonders how badly such a big dog could hurt him. After all, he can get mistaken for a burglar. Hell, he is in someone’s apartment—not Natasha’s, that much is obvious—after he basically broke in in the middle of the night, probably still reeking of cigarettes and that beer someone spilled on him at the bar hours ago. 

So if the dog leaps to bite his face off, Bucky kind of had that coming. The rational part of his brain makes him take a step back towards the door. He blindly reaches for the door-handle. As he realises that he’d actually closed the door behind himself, he curses under his breath. At least the dog is still just watching him, calmly.

Just as Bucky thinks that, the dog moves. There’s no leaping and biting-off-faces involved so far, the dog only scampers towards him leisurely. It sniffs at Bucky's hand, while Bucky tries very hard not to breathe. After an excruciatingly long second or two, the dog nudges Bucky's hand until it rests on its muzzle. When Bucky doesn't do anything, the dog sits on its hind legs and looks at Bucky in a way that seems kind of expectant. Not having much choice, Bucky does the only thing there is to do. 

He moves his hand to rest on the dog’s head and pets, gently scratching behind the dog's right ear. It lets out a quiet noise, somewhere between a bark and a content huff. Bucky chuckles quietly. He's not sure what is happening, but at least he's not worried about getting eaten alive for now. Soon enough, the dog flops onto its back, exposing its belly and there's that look again. Without thinking, Bucky crouches down and proceeds with the rubs.

Once again, the rational part of his brain tries to take control, telling him that he's still in some stranger's place, it's still past 4 AM and Bucky still should not be here. No matter how friendly the dog is. Unfortunately, at this hour the rational part of his brain has no say in anything. The dumb and the tired parts are the present CEOs of The Bucky Barnes Brain and that's why nothing good happens to him at the wee hours of the morning. So of course, Bucky ignores the voice of reason that tells him to go and try to figure out where the hell Natasha's apartment is. And besides—he had a long night. He had to deal with drunk and obnoxious people and serve them their drinks with a smile. He had to stand for hours and his legs are so sore he's not sure if he'll be able to get up from the crouches. He sure as hell deserved to pet a dog who clearly wants to be pet as a treat.

"What. The. Fuck. Is happening here?!"

Of course Bucky's happiness is short-lived. When he hears the deep, male voice, his head snaps up, trying to make out the silhouette in the dark corridor. 

Before he can do that, the light is suddenly switched on. Bucky winces and starts blinking, bringing the hand not currently petting the dog up to shield his eyes from the blinding brightness. The quick movement throws him off balance, making him plop down onto his butt.

When his ability to see is more or less back, he looks up. His eyes widen. He opens his mouth but closes it when nothing comes out. He just stares.

Because right in front of him stands a very gorgeous man. He seems skinny and small, probably at least a head shorter than Bucky. His blond hair is sticking in every direction, which Bucky would find adorable in different circumstances. The man's jaw is strong, his cheekbones to die for and he has the most beautiful blue eyes Bucky has ever seen.

Unfortunately, those blue eyes are glaring at him furiously and if it was possible to die under someone's gaze, Bucky would drop dead 15 seconds ago.

"Who the fuck are you? What are you doing in my apartment? It's the fucking middle of the night!" the stranger says, almost yelling.

"I'm not a burglar!" is what Bucky answers and he totally deserves the unimpressed eyebrow raise he gets. "Which is probably what a burglar would say. But really, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—I was going to my friends place but I must've messed up the floors or something. I was going to get out as soon as I realised that something was wrong, but…"

Bucky glances down at the dog, who is still lying on its back with its tongue lolling out and demands more scratches.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Bowie?" Bucky opens his mouth to defend himself, but he frowns at the name. After a moment he realises that the man is addressing the dog. "Aren't you supposed to defend this household or something? Are you really that cheap?"

"For what it's worth, I feel pretty defeated right now," Bucky chimes in. Another annoyed glare is what he gets in return.

"It's not worth a fuck, you've broken into my apartment! At 5 in the fucking morning," the man yells, running a hand through his hair. Only now Bucky realises that he's clutching a big and heavy-looking book in his other hand.

"I didn't actually break in! I found the key under the mat!" Bucky says.

It catches the man off guard. For a moment he just stands there, his brows furrowed and his cheeks go a bit red. It doesn't last long though.

"Well, that's my bad, but why would you even look for it?"

"Cause my friend hides her key for me there, too. Look, man," Bucky tries and scrambles to get up. His legs protest when he stands up but he is able to suppress a whine. "I'm really sorry. I'm tired as shit, I just finished my shift and up until this point I was convinced that my friend lives at number 16. I really didn't mean to disturb you. I really wanted to go but at first I was worried your dog's gonna eat me alive and then I couldn't deny him the scratches. If that's any consolation, it was the best part of my day. Playing with your dog, not breaking in here."

A winning smile appears on the man's face. "So you do admit you broke in here!" His tone and expression is significantly less murderous than before so Bucky dares to roll his eyes in response. "Let's say I believe you. I don't think I've ever heard about someone breaking into a stranger's home by accident but let's say that's true."

"It is! Also, just out of curiosity—you wanted to knock me out with that book?" Bucky feels the urge to ask.

"Still might," the man points out, grabbing the book tighter.

Bucky might be imagining things but he thinks there's a ghost of a smile dancing in the corner of the blond's mouth. Or maybe he just becomes delirious from exhaustion.

"Then you'd be able to tell people you've defeated a burglar with the power of literature," Bucky jokes. As soon as it leaves his mouth, he hears how lame it sounds but he blames his tired brain for that. And the handsome stranger, who seems to dampen his ability to think even more.

The handsome stranger who, surprisingly, let's out a chuckle in response to Bucky's horrible efforts at… whatever he is currently doing. Is he really trying to flirt with a man into who's flat he's barged in at 4 in the morning?

After thinking about it for a moment, he realises that it can be the case. Which is another argument in favour of the fact that at such an hour he's a danger to society. And to himself, especially.

"I wouldn't have to do that if Bowie at least pretended to be a guard dog and not a slut for belly rubs," the man says. The dog gets up after hearing his name and trots over to his owner, his tongue still dangling happily from his mouth. The stranger only sighs, but it's obvious he's not really mad as he starts scratching the dog behind his ears.

"You named your dog Bowie?" Bucky raises an eyebrow. "Like, after David Bowie, the artist?"

"No, after James Bowie, the botanist," the man says without batting an eyelash. Bucky's not sure if he's being serious. After a few seconds a smirk appears on the stranger’s face in response to Bucky’s confusion.

Despite looking like an angel, the man seems to be such a little shit. Bucky would be lying to himself if he said he’s not into it.

“OK, it’s lovely chatting with you, burglar—”

“It’s Bucky,” Bucky interrupts.

“What?” the man furrows his brows in confusion.

“My name’s Bucky. Not burglar, I thought we’ve settled that already.”

The man rolls his eyes but the smile still lingers on his face. God, it’s such a pretty smile. And such a handsome face.

“Bucky,” the man repeats.

Bucky loves the sound of his name rolling out of the stranger’s tongue. He wonders if it’s socially acceptable to ask out the person into who's flat you’ve broken in? 

He’s afraid it’s not. 

It’s a real shame.

“I’d really like to go back to sleep if you don’t mind,” the stranger continues, probably oblivious to Bucky’s internal torment. “Will you be OK, though? I can call you a cab or something. Who knows if you won’t mistake the apartments again. And others might not be as nice about it as I am.”

“I’m glad it was your I stumbled upon, then,” Bucky says, smiling his most charming smile.

Once again, the blond tries to pretend that he’s utterly annoyed but his cheeks are totally blushing. Bucky’s smile widens with pride.

“I might be nice but I’m not the most patient person, just so you know,” the stranger warns. “And I really like my sleep so please stop depriving me of it.”

“Oh, sure. I’m sorry, I really am. I promise I didn’t do it on purpose, I’ll leave you alone, sorry.”

As much fun he’s having flirting with the guy, he really is sorry for waking him up and disturbing his peace in general. So he takes a step back and unlocks the door.

“You sure, you’ll be OK?” the man comes closer, his eyes looking at Bucky with no anger left in them. Bucky even sees a bit of concern there.

“Yeah, don’t worry. It’s probably just the wrong floor or something, I’ll manage. Thanks, though.”

“It’s OK,” the man smiles. His hand rests on the side of the door as he leans against it a bit. “Try not to torment anyone else. Or at least wait till morning.”

Bucky ducks his head and laughs at that. He sticks his hands into his pockets, still hovering outside the stranger’s apartment.

“Again, I’m really sorry. I hope you’d still get some sleep,” Bucky says, sincerely. “And thanks for not calling the cops on me or something.”

“Don’t need them, I have the power of literature, remember?”

Bucky’s grin grows so big his cheeks start to hurt. Maybe it’s possible for good things to happen at such ungodly hours, after all.

“How could I forget?” After a moment Bucky feels bold enough to ask, “Do I deserve to get your name?”

“You don’t deserve shit, jerk,” the blond says but his smile matches Bucky’s. “Come back at a reasonable time and we’ll see about that. And use the damn doorbell, for fuck’s sake.”

It is hard not to get his hopes up after hearing what he has just heard. Bucky bites at his lower lip, trying to tame his smile a bit. At this point, he’s pretty sure he’s gonna wake up any time now, passed out on Natasha’s couch or behind the bar, back at work. It all seems too good to be true. The beautiful, sassy man standing in front of him, barefoot, in just his boxer briefs and a loose t-shirt, with his cheeks red and hair messy is definitely too good to be true. 

“OK, I can do that,” Bucky says, taking a step back. "Sorry again and have a good night. Or what's left of it. Bye, it was nice meeting you. And you too, Bowie."

The dog barks happily, bumping his head into Bucky's leg as Steve shushes him.

"Hush, you big lug, let's not wake any more people, OK?" the man says to the dog, pushing him back inside. "Goodnight, Bucky."

They exchange one last lingering look and a smile before Steve closes and locks the door. Bucky just stands there for a second. He lets out a little chuckle under his breath and runs a hand through his hair, still not sure if any of that actually happened. Finally, he turns around and climbs another flight of stairs, trying to figure out Natasha's actual address. When he gets to the floor above the handsome stranger's apartment, he halts to a stop and blinks in disbelief.

Because the door he is standing in front of now has the number 16 on them. He actually goes halfway down the stairs and leans over the barrister to glance at the floor below. He is not hallucinating. Both flats can’t have the same number but somehow they do. Bucky walks back up the stairs and glares at the door. He really doesn't want to walk into someone else's apartment again. He got lucky once but that doesn't mean he's not gonna get arrested at some point.

The more he stares at the little silver number, the more convinced he is that there's something wrong with it. The "1" and "6" are not lined up properly, it's almost as if…

Furrowing his brows, Bucky nudges the "6" with his finger. It swings from side to side. On closer inspection, he notices a small hole above the number. When he turns it all the way up, the hole aligns perfectly with the matching one on the number “6”

Or a "9" actually. Bucky lets out a tired sigh and rubs his face with his free hand. After over 3 years, Bucky finally discovers that his friend lives in apartment 19 and can't be bothered to fix a damn number on her door. Which maybe she should, in case some idiot mistakes the apartment for the one below.

To be honest, he's not even that mad. For one, he is too exhausted to muster any more emotions. And two, meeting Natasha's handsome neighbourhood might've shaken him a bit and Bucky's pretty sure it'll take him a while to stop thinking about their encounter. Not that he wants to stop thinking about it.

He bends down, retrieving the key from under the mat and this time he checks the inside of the apartment before he walks in. He's pretty sure it's Natasha's, but better safe than sorry. He takes off his shoes and smiles dreamily at the sight of a familiar couch, calling to him from the living room. His heart warms when he notices that after his text earlier Natasha left him a pillow and his favourite blanket ready. Quietly, he walks to the kitchen to get himself a glass of water. He leaves his clothes on the floor and sinks into the couch in just his boxers. It takes him about 0.2 seconds to fall asleep.

The smell of coffee fills the air and that’s what wakes Bucky up. When he blinks his eyes open, he sees Natasha sitting cross-legged on the coffee table in front of him. She waves her hand above the cup she’s holding, sending the coffee scent his way.

“Good morning, James,” she smiles at him. “I figured that midday is a reasonable time to wake you.”

“Thanks,” Bucky says and returns the gesture. 

He sits up just a bit and reaches for the cup with his right hand. Natasha snorts and swats at it.

“You’re crazy. That’s mine,” she gets up and walks away, ignoring Bucky’s whine. “You can get yourself some from the kitchen, if you want.”

“You’re at the same time the best and the worst person I know,” Bucky grumbles but stands up to walk towards the kitchen, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders.

Natasha beams at him as if that’s the best compliment she ever heard. “Thank you!”

There’s indeed more coffee waiting for him and Bucky pours himself a cup, cradling it in his hands with a blissed smile.

“When did you get here last night? I fell asleep at two and you weren’t there yet.”

“I have no idea. It must’ve been around five,” Bucky says, taking a sip of his coffee.

Natasha shakes her head in disapproval. “I swear to god, you have to find a new job. They’re making you stay later and later every day and you’re exhausted before you even get there, that’s such bullshit.”

“Maybe, but the money’s good,” Bucky shrugs and then says before he can bite his tongue. “But I finished half past three yesterday, so it wasn’t that bad.”

He realises his mistake the moment Natasha narrows her eyes at him. “Then where were you for an hour and a half?”

“Um, what?” Bucky asks, trying to play dumb. He knows that Natasha won’t be fooled but it will at least buy him some time. “Maybe I remember it wrong, I didn’t really check the time when I got here so it could’ve been earlier.”

“Did you get into a fight? Did you finally punch Brock? Nah, you’d be bruised after that though. No offense.” Bucky leaves the kitchen but she walks after him. She gasps theatrically. “Did you finally get laid?”

“You’re obsessed with Brock and my sex life. It’s alarming.”

Rolling her eyes she plops down on the couch before he can do the same. “I just really think that ‘he’s my boss’ is too weak of an argument not to punch the guy and if you don’t do that on the day you quit I’m gonna disown you. And I really want you to be happy and satisfied. In every meaning of that word.”

“You’re horrible. In every meaning of that word.”

“Heard that already, you have to work on your insults,” Natasha nudges him. “Go shower, loser. We’re going out for lunch.”

Bucky doesn’t even argue with her. Lunch—or breakfast in his case—sounds like a great idea, actually. Before he gets to the bathroom, he stops by Natasha’s closet. There’s one whole shelf dedicated to all the clothes and random crap he’d left at Natasha’s place on various occasions. It’s really helpful for when he crashes at her place and it saves him from wearing beer-stained jeans for example.

When he's showered, dressed and ready he joins Natasha back in the living room. As soon as he walks in, she sends him the same expectant look she's had before. Bucky should know she's not gonna let this whole thing go so quickly. Ignoring her for a moment, he retrieves his wallet and phone from the pile of clothes he'd left by the couch the night before.

"You know the, um. The guy that lives below you?" he starts, conversationally.

"Steve? Yeah, I've met him a few times. Nice guy," Natasha says, matching his tone but he can hear the smirk in her voice without even looking her way. "Why?"

Bucky busies himself with folding the dirty clothes which is absolutely pointless except for the fact that it lets him avoid looking at his friend. "I kind of… met him last night."

"Oh really?"

When Bucky finally turns, Natasha waggles her eyebrows at him with the most obnoxious smile he’s ever seen. Bucky just rolls his eyes.

“First of all, do you know that the number on your door is misleading because the ‘9’ is broken?” Bucky asks.

“Yeah, I know. I like it better that way. It has more character this way. How is this rele—” she pauses, furrows her brows and then starts laughing. “You really thought I live at 16 didn’t you? Oh my god, did you—”

She doesn’t even finish and starts laughing even harder. Bucky really does hate her sometimes.

“I can’t believe you broke into his apartment in the middle of the night,” Natasha wipes an actual tear from her cheek. “Did he beat you up? He’s totally the type to do that, I’ve once driven him to the hospital with a broken nose after a fight he started.”

“I— He what?” Bucky asks. Natasha just shrugs in response. Bucky realises he’s not that surprised, he can totally imagine such a scenario after his encounter with the guy. “He didn’t beat me up. Wanted to, though. He also keeps his key under the mat and I was really tired so it took me a while to notice I wasn’t at your place. Also, he has a really friendly dog.”

Natasha hums, sending him another amused look. “So you’ve spent over an hour playing with his dog at 4 in the morning?”

“Basically? I was worried the dog was going to eat me but he just wanted belly rubs. The guy was more likely to eat me for waking him up and barging into his flat.”

“Oh, I bet he’d like to eat you,” Natasha cackles and heads for the door. “I like your style, Barnes. Breaking and entering is a rather unusual way of flirting but I totally approve.”

“You’re a horrible person and an awful friend,” Bucky says, walking out of the apartment after her.

“You still love me.”

That part is true but Bucky is not going to admit it out loud.

They walk out of the building together and just because the Universe hates Bucky, as soon as they walk out the front door, he hears a bark. Something big, bright and fluffy starts running towards him.

“Oh,” Bucky says as the dog bumps his head against Bucky’s hand. He automatically starts petting him. “Hello there, Bowie.”

“So now you’re gonna steal my dog in broad daylight, too?”

Looking up, Bucky sees the handsome neighbour already looking at him with a smirk. His eyes are even bluer and brighter in the sunshine and Bucky forgets about trying to defend himself for a moment. Before he manages to reply, the man turns to Natasha and his cocky smirk turns into a friendly smile.

“Hi, Nat,” he says. “So you’re the mysterious friend of Mister Burglar here?”

“Hi, Steve. Yeah, unfortunately I am,” she answers, grinning at Bucky, who just rolls his eyes.

“You won’t let it drop, will you?” he sighs looking from Natasha to Steve. “It wouldn’t hurt to have a bit of compassion for a man who was tired after a long night at work and got a tiny bit mistaken.”

“If your tiny mistakes lead to crime, I don’t want to know how your big ones turn out,” Steve says, making Bucky groan.

He’s not really mad, he’s pretty sure Steve is just messing with him, if the smile on his face is any indication. But Bucky can play along. Especially, if that means making the pretty smile stay where it is.

“He’s a lost cause,” Natasha agrees.

“I don’t understand why Bowie likes him so much. He’s usually a good judge of character but everyone can be wrong sometimes.”

After that, Bucky crouches in front of the dog who tries to lick at his face. “You are right, though, aren’t you? Such a good boy, way smarter than those two dimwits there, right? We’re gonna dump them and become best friends, aren’t we?”

Bowie barks happily. Bucky hopes it’s because he agrees with what Bucky’s saying and not just because he’s getting more backrubs.

When Bucky glances up, he notices that Steve is watching them both with a soft smile on his face. He has to look back at Bowie to hide the blush that creeps up his face for some reason.

“I hate to break your moment,” Natasha says, nudging Bucky with her knee lightly. “But I really am hungry and from what I remember, we were supposed to go for lunch. Want to join us, Steve?”

Bucky’s heart skips a bit and he can’t help the hopeful look he sends Steve’s way. Unfortunately, the man shakes his head.

“Sorry, I have some work to do and I won’t be free for another hour,” he answers. He looks down at Bucky when he adds, “Maybe next time.”

When they just gaze at each other for a moment, it’s Natasha who finally snorts and says, “Yeah, next time. It was nice bumping into you, Steve. I bet Bucky would like to bump into you some more but we gotta go.”

“Tasha!” Bucky gasps, horrified but she only laughs. Steve blushes and looks away after her words.

“Yeah, I gotta go, too. Have fun,” Steve says, whistling at Bowie who obediently follows him to the door.

“See you round!” Bucky yells a bit too loudly and gets one more smile before Steve and his dog disappear inside the building.

He stares at the closed door for another moment. Natasha sighs, grabs his elbow and starts dragging him down the street.

“You really are a hopeless cause,” she says with fond exasperation.

The lunch with Natasha is nice. They go to their favourite bistro just two blocks away and spend over an hour catching up and chatting about nothing in particular. After that Natasha has to come by the office she works at to get some documents, so they make plans to meet up later that week and part ways. Natasha goes to the office and Bucky goes home.

Or at least that was the plan.

Because for some reason Bucky finds himself standing in front of apartment number 16 in Natasha’s building. There’s no reason for him to be here. Steve said he had work to do. On the other hand, he said he would be free in an hour. But then again, he doesn’t necessarily have to be home right now.

There’s also no reason for Bucky to be feeling as stressed as he does right now and yet here he is. He takes a deep breath and rings the doorbell. Immediately, he can hear Bowie’s barking at the noise.

A moment passes. Then another. Just as Bucky is about to leave, the door opens and Steve’s face appears from behind it.

“Look who’s learned how to use a doorbell,” he teases but his smile is bright and there’s no real bite to his words.

“You say that but I doubt you’d appreciate it if I rang the doorbell at 4AM,” Bucky points out.

“Probably not.”

A moment passes. Bucky bites at his lower lip, trying to get a grip on himself.

“I came to apologise again with hope we could start over?” he says.

Steve leans against the doorframe which brings him closer to Bucky. There’s a light blush on his pale cheeks. Bucky feels a bit weak in the knees.

“Maybe,” Steve shrugs with his left shoulder.

“OK, then,” Bucky nods. “Hi, I’m Bucky. It’s nice to meet you. I was wondering if you’d agree to go for a coffee with me? Or a dinner, if coffee isn't your thing?”

“I’m Steve. And I’m completely fine with either. It’s really nice to meet you in those completely normal circumstances, too.” Steve grins and Bucky can’t help but to mirror the gesture. “Now, should I get my jacket or was the invite just hypothetical?”

Bucky starts to shake his head before Steve even finishes the sentence, “It is very real, if you’re free right now.”

The light coming from the window in the living room is not much but enough for Bucky to realise that there's a dog. A big dog is standing in the middle of the hallway, its head cocked to the side as it watches Bucky. It's fair and huge, a golden retriever if Bucky was to guess.

Title: Apartment 16

Creator(s): niallhoranbitches

Card number: 065

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27296590

Square filled: C2 - Natasha Romanoff

Rating: Teen and Up

Archive warnings: None

Major tags: Meet Cute, No Powers AU, Pre-Serum Steve

Summary:

"Finally, he sees the longed-for number 16 on the door in front of him and bends to retrieve the key. Luckily, it's still there. Bucky thinks about the fact that in just a few minutes he'll finally be able to lay down, fall asleep and forget about the dull ache in all of his muscles for a few hours. It's a very nice thought. It makes him let out a small, happy sigh as he opens the door and sneaks into the dark apartment.

It wouldn’t be weird if Bucky just ignored the fact that Natasha did not have a dog."

Word count: 5045

[your-eternal-muse]

Bonus! Heather Playlist

So, here are songs that either inspire me to write chapters for Heather, or remind me of certain aspects of the series. I will be adding on to it, as I go, or get recommendations, but for now, here it is! 

It’s on Spotify, and below the cut are the titles and a couple of my favorite lines from each song!

Heather Series Playlist

Heather; Conan Gray (Personal Favorite)

“You gave her your sweater?  ‘It’s just polyester.’  But you like her better. Wish I were Heather.”

Poison and Wine; The Civil Wars aka The song reader and Spencer dance to at his wedding (Personal Favorite)

“I wish you’d hold me when I turn my back. The less I give, the more I get back. Oh, your hands can heal, your hands can bruise. I don’t have a choice, but I still choose you.”

“I don’t love you, but I always will.”

Dust to Dust; The Civil Wars

“All your acting, your thin disguise. All your perfectly delivered lines. They don’t fool me. You’ve been lonely, too long.”

So Cold; Ben Cooks

“I called you at home you said that you weren’t alone. I should’ve known better. Now it hurts much more.”

Vices; Mothica

“I really don’t know why I’m like this.”

“Is it okay I’m not okay?”

“I don’t sleep much these days.”

Bloodshot; Dove Cameron

“Got tired of dreaming running into you all the time.”

“It’s harder to see you’re not mine with my bloodshot eyes.”

Bad Liar; Imagine Dragons *Spencer Song*

“Does happiness lie in a diamond ring?”

“Wish I could erase it, make your heart believe, but I’m a bad liar.”

I miss you, I’m sorry; Gracie Adams *Spencer Song*

“Thought you’d hate me, but instead you called and said ‘I miss you’.”

“Nothing happened the way I wanted.”

Honest; Mali-Koa (Personal Favorite)

“I was never good at conversations Whisper when I meant to scream out.”

“All of these feelings are saying that I could never find a better love, better love than you.”

“If my heart had a choice I’d tell you the stories, I’d always avoid. I’d be honest to you. Honest to god.”

Why Won’t You Love Me?; 5SOS

“Switching into airplane mode again. We're not alright but I'll pretend. Press my cheek against the glass. Just be good 'til I get back.”

“I hold back the tears. I check my phone to see your face, Staring back as if to say Don't worry, you won't be lonely.”

I Can’t Breath; Bea Miller  

“Somebody get me a hammer. Wanna break all the clocks and the mirrors. And go back to a time that was different.”

“How can I live in the moment When my thoughts never feel like my own and Don't know how to admit that I'm broke?”

Take What You Want; Post Malone ft. Ozzy Osborne and Travis Scott (Personal Favorite) *Is this about Spencer or Heather? You decide.*

“Why don't you take what you want from me? Take what you need from me Take what you want and go!”

 “And it finally came the day I start giving my heart away. For Heaven sakes, my bones will break But you never own my soul, no!”  

1 Sided Love; Blackbear

“You're too busy talking over me to hear what I'm saying.. You're too high to realize I see Through the smile that you're faking.”

Break Up With Your Girlfriend, I’m Bored; Ariana Grande

“Then you realize she's right there. And you're at home like, ‘Damn, she can't compare’.”

“You can say I'm hatin' if you want to. But I only hate on her 'cause I want you.”  

Girl; Donna Missal

“Still I take it all so personal. Girl, you got me all fucked up.”  

“I hate it how your eyes glaze over When I'm talking, na, na, na Like nothing I say even matters You're just watching, yeah”

Overwhelming; Jon Bellion (Personal Favorite) (super change of pace in song lol)

“She don’t want no problem if there’s not one.  But people come around and try some stupid shit to start one, She’ll give you the peoples fuckin’ elbow, like The Rock, son.”

Heathers Tag List: @drsoftboyreid​ @lindaze​ @urie-bowie-mercury​ @racerparker​ @avaholcombe​ @rodgertayloroof @stephanieisgay330​ @swiftspaperings​ @rainsong01​ @darthseph​ @liaabsurd​ @tracyn910 @kxllyxnnx @holypicklelightnickel​ @pianofirepirate​ @radtwinkie @madcrazy50​ @bweakmybonez​ @constantlywishingonstars​ @l0ve-0f-my-life​ @expressiodepressio @flannelpjpants​ @x-midnight-violets-x​ @kwyloz​@todaynotseen @caitlin-f @mylovehes​ @spencerreidsimptime​ @yoongi-holland​ @vamp-army​ @realimbo​ @stardream14 @magicbeanssss​ @jessaminelovelace​ @darthvadersturd​ @nikkilikewoah @mellifluouswildbluebells​ @lex-rodgers-sheild @crist1216​ @voguekristens @doctorspencrreid​  @girlwithcrocs​ @harryscherrymoon​ @cherriesnwatermelons​ @heyitssomegirl101​ @mollygetssherlockcoffee​ @colorfulsunflowerx​ @falcon-arrows​ @hereforbeebo​ @legallyplatinumblonde​ @thatsonezesty13​

Permanent Tag List: @criminalcow @pinkdiamond1016 @eternityofaxiom @you-had-me-at-hello-dear @marvels-gurl @theamuz @write-from-the-heart @sungieeeeeee @mjloveskids666 @chococeral @itzsoff @gia-kerks @doctorspencereid @imsuperawkward @andreasworlsboring101 @itsmoony @cielo1984 @heistmaster69​ @nevvvv​ @theseuscmander​ @complementaryvacuum​ @waywardswain​

[iwakurodai]

Angel || Richie Tozier

hello! if this one isn’t good then you can leave me. I haven’t had a good streak with writing in so long. The ending is probably really bad but be gentle, I didn’t know how to continue this let alone end it so the ending seems a bit rushed/way too short! Anyways! I hope you enjoy this imagine to kick off my return to eggytozier

soulmate au where you feel the  pain of your destined lover but dont get the wounds/bruises. 

requested? nah, just had an idea

warnings? suicide, car wrecks, knives, cursing, death, dead parents, pain, blood, soulmates, bad endings, homophobic slur, and missing children

pairing? Richie Tozier x reader, and a bit of platonic!bill x reader

You met your soulmate when you were only five. 

Walking into preschool--hand gripped so very tightly onto your parent’s finger--you stopped at the door way as they spoke to your new teacher. Looking around, your eyes watch the kids chasing each other and knocking stuff over. Your eyes met a small boy that was playing alone, pretending to make food at the play kitchen way across the room. You were about to leave your parents when the teacher kneeled in front of you, distracting you and you forgot about the boy as she introduced herself to you. 

Farther along in the day, at recess, you were about to join the boy from before on the swing set until he jumped off and landed wrong. You felt nothing but searing pain in your ankle and you fell to the ground, sobbing, unaware of the boy screeching just a couple yards from you. You found out who he was when you both were carried to the nurses office by the teachers monitoring you. 

His name was Taylor James. He was a little blonde boy who spoke a little too quiet and laughed a little too loud. He had a strong interest in cooking after growing up with a chef as a father. He had a stutter and a lisp but you didn’t see the problem.

You two were only five, but since that point of meeting, you two were inseparable. 

As years went by, your parents and his became best friends. Taking mementos of you two to look back on when you got married. You two grew up together, not hiding a single thing. Well, it was hard to hide something when you both could feel something was wrong. 

Taylor was as quiet as he was in preschool and he was just as sensitive. Which caused him to become an easy target for bullying. You despised the bullies. Every time you saw them you couldn’t help but shout insults and jokes, hoping that they would feel what they did to Taylor. You knew that it wasn’t right but you didn’t care. All that mattered was Taylor being happy. 

But, you would never have been prepared for when the accident happened. 

You were 10, only five years were spent with Taylor. He was on his way to your house for Easter. You were helping your mother color some eggs when you suddenly dropped to the floor, screaming as if you were being murdered. Tears came out of your eyes like a river, you were barely breathing. A screech coming out of your mouth whenever you could get it out until nothing would come out. 

You felt as if your soul had been ripped in two, holding onto each other with thin strings. Your body was cold, freezing to the touch. Your nails digging into your arms but you didn’t feel a single thing. Your whole mind and body were numb, other than the feeling of your whole being, being put through a paper shredder. 

It wasn’t until you were sitting against your mother chest, still sobbing, that your dad came home. He had tears in his eyes, his hands were shaking. 

Your dad was coming home from buying some candy for you and Taylor when he saw a familiar car fly, headfirst, into a semi truck. He pulled over and ran to the scene, pulling out a phone and calling 911. He was telling the operator where he was when he was stopped cold at the sight of Mr. and Mrs. James, barely even recognizable. Your dad checked the back and was horrified to see little Taylor with a piece of shrapnel lodged into his chest. 

Your dad fled, rushing to you as he realized what would happen. He had only read about soulmates dying, but never did he think he--or anyone he knew--would witness it himself. You didn’t feel a thing of the crash. Taylor died on impact. But the feeling of your other half being ripped from life had scarred you to the core. 

You went silent, your mouth never opened other than to eat and drink. The trauma of losing someone so close to you had scraped your ability to find the use in talking. Your parents became scared, signing you up for a therapist. 

You were only with that therapist for barely half a year before they decided that a change of scenery was better for your health. With that suggestion, you and your family packed up and left your hometown. Driving as far as the family’s minivan could take you. 

Which was the small, secluded town of Derry, Maine. 

You didn’t go to school until the next year, your parents making sure that all the teachers knew of your problem and wouldn’t force you to do anything. 

You weren’t mad or sad or even happy that you had moved. You were just... surviving. You didn’t feel like you needed to feel anything, so you didn’t. In the short year of learning at Derry Middle School, you didn’t make any friends and only gained the attention of Greta Bowie. She took advantage of every time you were alone to bully you. She wanted to tip you over the edge and cause a breakdown. She had found out about your soulmate dying and was making up different scenarios of what could have happened. 

“Your little soulmate killed himself because you’re such a fucking disgrace of a human he didn’t want to be with you, didn’t he?” 

You pretended to not hear it. 

You also gained the attention of a kid named Bill Denbrough. He had a stutter and it reminded you, almost too much, of Taylor. He tried his best to make you comfortable: helping you with work when you seemed to not understand, giving you tips about avoiding Greta and Henry Bowers (who you hadn’t met but made a note of staying away from), and even inviting you to hang out with his friends. You always denied, you didn’t wanna damper their fun. 

Bill always shrugged, though, promising to make plans to hang out alone. You always gave him a small smile in response and a pat on the shoulder. You were scared of getting close to him. 

It was only a month after meeting Bill that you felt something strange. 

You were walking down the hallway, being called to the counselor’s office for your daily meeting, when you felt a strong sense of pain in your stomach. As if you’d been punched. You froze in the middle of the hallway, your mind racing with possibilities. 

Taylor? No, you thought, he’s definitely dead. You saw his body in the morgue, in the open casket with his family. He was gone. 

Was there a chance that you had gotten a new one? You hadn’t seen anything about gaining a new soulmate after the death of another, but it also wasn’t common to find yours at such a young age, like you. 

You got knocked out of your thoughts--literally--when you felt a punch to your face. You dipped your head down, covering your left eye as you head starts to pound fiercely against your eye. Your vision started to blur with tears, a ringing in your ears. You clench your eyes shut, forcing yourself to take a breath and get to the counselor’s office before you started to investigate more. 

You asked the counselor about having a new soulmate when you met with her again, of course by writing it down. She pulled out a dirty notebook and flipped a couple pages before reaching her desired spot. 

She read to you that soulmates who lose their other half so suddenly and unexpectedly have a chance to gain a new one. It happens so rarely that there had been only two ever cases about it. The universe had a plan, they always planned ahead of time. The universe had a backup when they knew a soulmate was going to die unexpectedly. Meaning that in rare cases, people would be born without a soulmate until they were needed.  

When she asked about the sudden curiosity, the bell rang. You ran out of the office and into the crowded halls, to the cafeteria--which you commonly avoided. But, today, you wanted to see Bill. You could see how much mysteries sparked the kid’s interest and you needed help. 

You found him pretty easily, he was with his friends. You knew them from Bill pointing them out in the yearbook when he was showing you Henry Bowers. You barely knew their names but that was the least of your concerns. You scrambled in your backpack, finding a piece of paper and a pen. You scrawled the words “I need your help” on it before throwing the pen in your bag and striding up to Bill, confidently. 

Ignoring his friends that were silenced with confusion, you shoved the paper in Bill’s face. He grabbed it carefully, reading it slowly. 

“Damn Bill, since when did you know the hot new girl?” A kid with glasses exclaimed, smiling at your determined face. “Hi, hotstuff, I’m Richie Tozier, but you can call me your boyfriend!” Richie shoves his hand in your direction. You glance at his hand and then at his face, scrunching your brows together and tilting your head. 

“C-c’mon, (Y/N), we-we can go to th-the libr-library,” Bill says, cutting off your introduction to Richie. “I’ll see you-you guys af-after school!” He exclaims, grabbing your wrist and leading you away from his friends. 

“What the fuck?”

“Why can’t we go?”

“What just happened?”

Bill ignores the three and you two make it out of the loud cafeteria and through the halls until you both finally get to the small school library. 

“So, what di-did you need h-hel-help with?” Bill asks, sitting down on a chair. You sit next to him, opening your bag and scrambling for a random notebook. You find one and hurry, rushing out an explanation. When you finish, Bill slides towards him and scans it quickly, mouthing the words as he reads. He looks back to you once he finishes, he was shocked. 

He’s never heard of the whole gaining new soulmates thing and he didn’t know what to do. But he wanted to help his friend. “Wh-What do you wa-want me to do? How can I-how c-can I help?” You smile in relief, reaching over and hugging him tightly. 

Bill grins widely, hugging you back. It was only the start to a whole new adventure and he was excited to help you figure it out. 

You back up from him, blushing in embarrassment before turning back to your notebook and writing something more. 

‘Do you have any ideas? All I’ve got is asking around if there’s been a fight.’

Bill hums, racking his brain for ideas. Biting his lip, he looks over at you to see you tapping your pencil on the notebook. “M-Maybe we can my friends i-if they’ve heard of-of any fights re-recently? R-Richie surely knows, i-i-if not then we can ask the r-r-redhead, Beverly, from History c-class.” You nod, accepting the idea. 

“Okay, I-I have to go. I’ll meet-meet up with you by the b-bike rack and w-we-we can b-brainst-storm more on the w-way home. Y-You live near the sy-synag-synagogue, right?” After seeing you nod, he smiles. “O-Okay, I’ll w-wa-walk you home. R-R-Remember, by the b-bike rack!” Bill says, leaving you to think to yourself. 

I’m scared that if we don’t find my soulmate, I’ll lose them before I could get to know them. You thought to yourself, playing with your pencil. I don’t wanna know that they’re going through pain and I’m not doing anything to help. 

But, you didn’t know you were going to have to halt the investigation because less than a month later, Bill’s little brother ended up missing. 

You became close to Bill throughout his grieving. You related to him in a way. You both lost someone close to you, for you it might’ve been more painful in the sense of your soul ripping in two, but he lost his little brother. And he thought it was his own fault. 

Bill came to you to vent about Georgie. He went through all the stages of grief in front of you. And you were there to help him through it all. 

Being close to Bill also meant you became good friends with his. Stan Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak, and Richie Tozier became a constant in your routine. They didn’t pressure you to speak but they made light hearted jokes about it. You weren’t ever offended, you laughed with them. Richie made the most jokes though. He couldn’t go an hour without shooting a flirty comment at you with a wink. You found it adorably annoying.

Eddie and you became close too. After a freakout with Eddie not trusting any other boys with his extra inhaler, you stepped up and held it for him. You keep it in your bag at all times and when you didn't have your bag, you had it tucked in your pocket. He had a respect for you for putting up with Richie and not managing to smack him. You always shook your head and chuckled at his disbelief. 

Stan and you only became close after you found him crying with bruises up and down his arms. You helped him up and led him into your home, holding an ice pack to the worst of them all. Stan had been beaten by Henry Bowers and you caught him after he had ran far enough away to lose them. He gained the smallest crush on you after that, but you didn’t have know that. 

You didn’t ever bring up the possibility of having another soulmate to the boys. You didn’t want to stress Bill with his search for Georgie and you didn’t want the other three to ask questions about your first. Though, Richie loved to pester you. 

Richie loved to make jokes about being your soulmate, about how you never bring up soulmates because he was already in front of you. You always brushed it off and rolled your eyes at him. But, one day, the jokes seemed to be a reality. 

You were walking home from your therapist appointment when you felt something hit the back of your head. You reached up and rubbed at it, groaning about how your soulmate must be in wrestling club with how much fighting he did. As you came across Mr. Keene’s pharmacy to pick up your prescription, you glance down the alleyway. 

You almost didn’t catch it but you did a double take and saw Richie struggling against the brick wall as a platinum blonde boy holds him there. 

“Let go of me, bleach bottle! I got shit to do!” Richie exclaims, groaning as he tries to pull away from the kid holding him down. You step closer, hiding behind the wall as you watch. You knew you should help, but something was stopping you. 

“No, you don’t, trashmouth, not anymore.” You watch as a kid with a blonde mullet stalks towards Richie with something in his hand. “I’m gonna teach you to keep your mouth shut, faggot,” He snarls, clicking a button and showing off the glint of the knife. You gasp quietly, slipping away from the wall to try and stop him. You recognized the mullet from Bill pointing it out in the yearbook. Henry Bowers. 

Richie, for once, was shocked silent. His eyes watching as the knife practically glared at him. He swallows thickly as Henry brings the knife close to his face. “You better be happy to welcome a new stamp, Buck Teeth,” Henry mutters, poking the tip of the knife into Richie’s cheek and dragging it slowly across his skin. Richie’s eyes screw shut, gritting his teeth to stop himself from yelling. 

You gasp loudly, eyes widening as you spin to press your back to the brick wall. Your hand reaching to press against your cheek, feeling the knife dig into you but not showing any wound. Heat seemed to lick at your cheek, stinging and causing your eyes to water. Taking a couple deep breaths, you press a hand to your chest to calm your heart beat. 

“What the fuck was that?” Henry whispers to Victor who shrugs. “Well go fucking check, dipshit!” Victor jumps, letting go to Richie, who falls to the ground. He didn’t dare to get up, knowing that if he did Henry would just find a way to injure him more brutally. 

You tense, glancing around before rushing into the store you were hiding in front of. You watched at the bleach blonde looked everywhere before freezing and rushing back to the alleyway. You waited a couple seconds before leaving the store and glancing back where Richie was. 

Richie was pushing himself up, holding his cheek with a frown on his face. Henry and the other one, nowhere to be seen. You deem it safe enough to bolt into the alleyway and to Richie who looked up with fright in his eyes before relaxing at the sight of you. 

“Hey, dollface! What’s up?” He exclaims, smiling at you while still holding his cheek. He acted like nothing had happened. You stop in front of him and look at him incredulously. Blood was starting to drip from his fingers. “What? Oh, you mean this?” Richie asks, noting your shock. “It’s just a scratch, my dear, no need to worry!” You shake your head, grabbing Richie’s wrist and taking it from his face. 

He sucks in a breath, not liking how the cold air felt in his new wound. He didn’t notice how you winced as well. “Yea, okay. Might need a band aid, maybe? Say, where you headed?” Richie asks, suddenly losing interest in the still burning wound. You roll your eyes, pulling him along with you to Keene’s to pick up some supplies. 

“Do you think Mama (L/N) will freak about me bleeding out on your kitchen table?” You scoff at Richie’s words, dabbing a wet washcloth on his cheek to clean the blood from around the fresh band aid. “What? You don’t think so? You know your mom loves me, angel!” You freeze at the nickname. 

It was new—different from the other pet names he’s given you. You roll your eyes, brushing it off as him just finding a magazine that mentioned it. 

“You like that one? I made it up on my own!” Richie exclaims, smiling brightly at your reddening face. “Yea, cause you are like an angel. Maybe that’s why you don’t talk, cause if you do then none of us will be able to handle your beautiful voice and we’d all die because our heart burst from it!” Richie over exaggerates, springing up from the kitchen chair and laughing at your little jump. You chuckle a bit before turning around and cleaning up the mess you made. 

“Hey, (y/n)?” Richie asks, suddenly quiet and serious. You raise an eyebrow, turning on your heel and tilting your head at him in question. “Have you found your soulmate yet?” He mumbles, shocking you. 

You didn’t know if you should tell him. Yea, you were very happy you found your second soulmate but you didn’t know if you should tell him or let him figure it out himself. 

“You don’t have to answer, I was just wondering. Because, I’m scared I don’t have one,” Richie confesses. You sit down next to him, slowly, growing confused. “That or my soulmate is extremely careful because the last time I felt pain from them was…” Richie stops to think. “Have I ever felt pain from them before?” You sigh, looking down and grinding your teeth. 

You’ve been overly cautious about hurting yourself over things. You didn’t want to put your soulmate through something painful, it hurt you to see that you were the cause. But you needed to do something. You knew Richie was your soulmate, you just had to find the courage to show him. 

“It’s whatever. I can deal with not having one! It’s not like I need one or something!” Richie laughs, pushing away his true feelings. He stands up, rubbing his hands over pants before starting towards the door. You start to panic, not wanting him to leave on a sad note. You rack your brain, filing through the things you could do to make him stay. But there was really only one choice as there was nothing around you to help you.. “I should probably go, I was supposed to meet Eddie at the park—“

“W-Wait.” 

Richie freezes, a hand reaching towards the door. He spins on his heel slowly, his eyes wide and his jaw dropped. “Did you just—“ He cuts himself off as you start to walk closer to him. You nod. Your voice was hoarse, as it hadn't been used in more than a year. And you stuttered, you weren’t exactly used to talking anymore. 

“I—“

“Y-Your soulmate,” You confess, biting the inside of your cheek and watching him carefully. Richie’s face drops. He chuckles lowly, sounding betrayed. 

“Don’t try, angel. I don’t want you to fake being my soulmate just to make me happy,” You roll your eyes as Richie looks up at you with sad eyes. “You deserve to be with your actual soul—“ As Richie talks, you lift your arm and grab a lump of your skin in between two fingers, and squeeze. 

“Oh, fuc—“ Richie exclaims, jerking his arm to his chest quickly. He looks at you with confusion, his face screwed with disbelief. 

“You’re—“ He didn’t have to finish his words as you nod in confirmation. Richie laughs, relief seeping through. “Shit,” He breathes, bringing you in for a tight hug. “You’re actually my soulmate. Holy fuck!” Richie rambles, a grin gracing his features. 

You giggle, wrapping your arms around him and holding him close. You got a second chance, you didn’t wanna screw it up. You decided to put off telling him about Taylor. Richie’s smiling face was way too precious to be put down by your past. 

“Wait! I gotta tell Stan! He’s gonna shit himself!”

[deputyrhiannonhale]

Nodus Tollens Chapter 2

(ooc) In this chapter, the same general trigger warnings are applied here! And once again let me know if you wanna be tagged or don’t anymore!

Chap 1

tagging: @returnofthepd3 @ja-crispea @f0xyboxes @shelliechen @xbaebsae @deputyjessicaquinn @dieguzguz @hopecountygazette 

~~ It took Rhi longer than it really should for her brain to register the imminent threat of drowning, and the fact that Burke was once again not giving a second thought to making sure she was ok, just swimming away from the truck as it sank closer to the river bed.

'Just wait until I get to the surface. I'll kick your ass before the Peggies can.' Rhi thought to herself as she pushed against the metal of the truck door to propel herself upwards and began kicking her legs.

When Rhi broke the surface, she gasped loudly, needing oxygen badly, before she paddled towards the bank. Rhi crawled up on the soft muddy surface, flipping onto her back, still taking in deep breaths, staring up at the starry night sky, fading in and out of consciousness.

"Stop! I'm a U.S. Marshal!" Burke was screaming off to her left and Rhi lifted her head to see the bouncing beams from flashlights and her heart rate spiked again. She still couldn't relax, footsteps brought her head to her right in time to see a tall bald man standing above her. He didn't have the cult look about him, but he still looked menacing in the paleness of the moonlight, she wanted to run, but the darkness pulled her under completely.

Rhi vaguely remembers being carried, she groaned a few times, but couldn't keep her eyes open. Flashes of her past with John filled her mind's eye. How sweet and kind he had been towards her. Spending months together as she recovered, learning about each other, and yet...he kept something this big from her. Had it been obvious and she was just too naive to put it together? Probably.

It was the night before Rhi was leaving to go back to Billings, she was packing her bags, getting ready to say goodbye to everyone, when an unexpected tapping sounded from her window. She jumped in surprise, her head snapping to the right to find John peering in her window, he gave her a small smile and a wave, motioning for her to open the window.

"What are you doing here?" She whisper-shouted at him, laughing as she opened the window and leaned on her elbows onto the window pane. 

"You really didn't think I wouldn't come and see you off, did you?" John replied in his normal almost cocky manner and Rhi scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"Considering I asked you not to because goodbyes are really hard for me and I can't get out tonight...yeah I did." She admitted, resting her chin on her palm, giving him a playful smile and wink. "Also...why didn't you just come to the front door? At least then you coulda come in." She asked, her brows furrowed in confusion, a subtle shift in his gaze went unnoticed by Rhi and John shrugged, chuckling softly.

"I guess I figured this seemed more Romeo and Juliet." John answered, causing Rhi to snort loudly, and she covered her mouth and nose quickly, until the laughing passed.

"Well...that's a love story that ended really well, huh?" They both shared a laugh then before John motioned for her to climb out of the window and join him. She knew she shouldn't, she needed to finish packing and go join Earl for dinner. Rhi looked over her shoulder at her door before finally deciding. "Fuck it." She clambered out the window, and took John's hand.

Rhi startled awake to find her hands zip-tied to a bedpost. She yanked at her restraints, growling loudly. She was mad at herself for being so stupid, that fucking look in his eyes that night should have been a warning. Mad at being restrained by who knows who, she was just mad at the world at this point in time.

"Why the fuck am I tied up?!" She shouted, yanking with every word, as she looked around the room and spotted the man she seen before she passed out.

"The cult is looking for ya. Smartest thing for me to do would be to hand you over." The man answered and Rhi scoffed, giving him a very vicious smile.

"Please, please do it. Let me at that fucking cult." Rhi was nearly frothing at the mouth in her anger, still pulling and twisting her arms trying to get free. The plastic ties were beginning to burn her wrists as she struggled as the man approached her, pulling out a knife and sliding through the makeshift cuffs. Rhi growled, tossing the zip ties across the room before rubbing her wrists gently.

"Now, there's some clothes over there that should fit. We need to burn that uniform." The man pointed over to a line of lockers against the wall as he spoke, and Rhi stood to her full height, giving him a quick nod. "Meet me in the back once you're done."

Rhi sighed loudly, opening up the lockers and digging through what meager amounts of clothes were there. None of it was her style, however that didn't matter at this point in time and she understood that; a denim vest, a shirt with 'TROUBLE MAKER' in black letters across her chest and a simple pair of jeans and combat boots were the closest to comfortable she was going to find.

Strapping her sheath with her bowie knife to her right thigh, she began to make her way to where she heard the man's voice calling out to different individuals.

In this room, Rhi discovered a conspiracy theory style mapping of Hope County complete with Joseph's, Jacob's, John's and a woman named Faith's pictures. She studied each person and what this man had written about them. Her anger had been so high she hadn't registered Faith standing behind Joseph as well at the church. She hadn’t shown much interest in Rhi considering her outburst.

"Oh good, you did find something that fits. I didn't properly introduce myself properly before. I'm Dutch." Dutch stated, as Rhi approached him, she gave him a quick but polite nod.

“Rhi Hale.” She introduced herself, holding out a closed fist, offering it for a bump in lieu of a handshake. Dutch stared down at her closed fist long enough to make Rhi shrug and give a heavy annoyed sigh and shove her hands deeply in her pockets.

“Wait, you’re Earl’s niece, right?” Dutch finally said after a few more beats of silence. Rhi gave him a tight smile, and another quick nod.

“The one and only. Now about getting to those fucking peggies...they’ve got Earl. I’m gonna get him back.” Rhi promised, looking over Dutch’s shoulder at all the monitors on his table top, and he laughed.

“Well, there’s a problem missy. I haven’t-”

“Don’t call me that.” Rhi interrupted him, her eyes shifting back to him to give him a very stern look, and he held up his hands in a placating manner.

“Understood. However, I still haven’t heard from Eli, Jerome or Virgil. I think the cult has messed with the radio tower on my island. Think you could help me out? You do this for me, and I help you however I can.” Rhi rocked on the balls of her feet as she thought about his request. She didn’t know him, even though he seems to know her, but given her affiliation, that wasn’t overly surprising. Yet, she still wondered if she could trust him. How does she know that he isn’t a part of the Project, and just steering her into more danger? Rhi let out another heavy sigh. She knew she wasn’t in a position to be picky at this moment. She had people to help. She pinched the bridge of her nose before running her hand through her hair.

“Yeah, I’ll help. I’m sure you’ve got people out there too that need help. This isn’t just about me.” She said on an exasperated sigh, what has she gotten herself into. This isn’t how her job as a police officer in a small town like this was supposed to go. Rhi expected the occasional drunk and disorderly kind of stuff and it’s nearly always the same people every weekend.

“There’s a gun and map in the safe over there that you can have. Once you get your bearings I’ll let you know where to go.” He instructed, pointing over to the safe to Rhi’s right back towards where she had come in here. She mumbled to herself as she walked over to the safe, picking up the gun and ejecting the magazine to check it, finding it not fully loaded. Replacing the magazine back into its spot, she racked the slide and placed it at the small of her back before picking up the map. Giving Dutch a two finger salute, she left the room to find her way out of this bunker.

Rhi shielded her eyes when she emerged, the sun proving to be way too bright for her, cursing under her breath at how much it stung her eyes. Once her eyes adjusted, she looked around at all the vegetation surrounding her, it was deceivingly peaceful here, she even took the time to breathe in and just bask in the natural music of the woods, but that didn’t last long before her radio beeped. 

Rhi trekked on, after finally having received more information from Dutch about how the cult was snatching people and how she should try and save as many as she could to get them on her side. Done and done she has told herself, knowing she would need as much help as she could muster from the way Dutch made it sound. She froze when she heard voices and what sounded like a loud punch, Rhi crouched and eased forward until she found the culprits; two cult members and a civilian.

Rhi didn’t even waste time, she picked up a metal bat that was leaning against the tree she was behind and snuck up to the female cult member, standing at the last second and thwacked her hard on the back of the head. The two men left looked at her in surprise as she pulled out her gun from its spot nestled at the small of her back and she trained it on the other cult member firing without hesitation. The man she saved stared up at her from his position on his knees, it was clear in his eyes that he was unsure if Rhi was a savior or more bad news. She finally smiled at him, replacing her gun at the small of her back and extended a hand to help him to his feet.

“Name’s Rhi.” She introduced herself as he dusted himself off, and she bent down to pick up the rifle one of the cultists dropped and tossed it to her new found friend. He caught it and juggled it a couple of times before finally giving her a quizzical look. “And you are?”

“T-Tom…” Rhi gave him a bigger smile and winked at him.

“Hope you know how to use that Tom, we are going Peggie huntin’.” She informed the still confused Tom as she walked by him and he turned, falling into step with her.

“Wait...you’re the new deputy, right?” Tom was a nervous man, she could tell just by his tone alone, she used to sound just like that in her younger days, and it took her back to all the times she tried to ask her step-ass for anything.

“I am. I’m going to take this cult down for fucking with me. Can I count on ya, Tom?” She looked up at the taller man, and he was smiling, the fire was lit behind his eyes.

“Absolutely!”

Tom proved to be more of a fighter than she had given him credit for, he was very stealthy, very quiet even when moving through the brush and tall weeds. He informed Rhi that it’s all about knowing her own body and how it moves, while also keeping the wind in mind. Move when the wind moves the weeds, and stop when it does. It was all information Rhi was taking to heart, knowing anything valuable now would prove priceless later. With Tom’s help, it didn’t take Rhi long to clear out what Peggies were inhabiting Dutch’s little island. 

“You know where the radio tower is, my dude?” Rhi asked Tom, smiling triumphantly at him, and he returned her bright smile, before motioning with his head over his shoulder.

“Just right over this way.”

Rhi stood at the base of the ladder leading up to the top of the tall tower, her hands on her hips, her head tilted all the way back, staring skyward. “Fuck…” She whispered to herself, before eyeing Tom. “All the way up there, huh?” He chuckled before punching her shoulder in a light playful manner.

“After all that, you trying to tell me you’re scared of heights?” Tom teased her and she laughed weakly, pushing him gently.

“Not the height...the fall is more the problem.” She confessed, as she rolled her shoulders, and began her climb to the top.

“Now, I know what you’re thinking, and no, I’m not gonna have you climbing radio towers all over the county. Just this one.” Dutch radioed to her and she scoffed, pulling the radio off her belt once she made it to the first flat surface.

“Not really...what I was thinking. But that’s good to know.” Rhi countered sarcastically, which caused Dutch to chuckle slightly.

“Same humor as your uncle. Now, don’t go falling.” Dutch suggested and Rhi rolled her eyes, sighing heavily.

“How did you know what I was planning, Dutch?” Rhi retorted, Dutch replied with a sarcastic ‘har-har’ before Rhi put the radio away and continued climbing.

Rhi hugged along the center of the tower, moving easily to the switch to bring it back to life, the wind stronger so high up and she took deep calming breaths, as she looked down. Big mistake, now all she was thinking about was missing her footing and falling to her death.

“You’re doing great!” Tom’s faint voice reached her ears and she couldn’t help but laugh, he obviously couldn’t see her sweating bullets up here. Rhi pulled in another shaky breath before turning and pulling the switch to start the radio signal again.

“Hey, that definitely did it, kid, I’m getting a good signal now!” Dutch praised her, and she slid down to a crouching position while she waited for more instructions, trying to steady her shaking hands. “Fall’s End needs your help. That’s in the Holland Valley. John Seed’s region.”

“Of course…” Rhi muttered out before grabbing the radio. “Do you know where Earl is at?” Dutch remained silent for a moment.

“Sorry...I don’t know that kid, but I can ask around for ya.” Dutch promise and she couldn’t ask for more.

“Thank you Dutch.” Rhi put the radio back and looked around, there was a zipline attached to the radio tower and she debated if she wanted to take the quick way down. Sweat was trickling down the back of her neck, and she looked down the ladder. Either way she could fall, but maybe the zipline would be faster, and she wouldn’t have to be worried about her freezing up halfway down, and having to embarrassingly call down to Tom to rescue her. She took a deep breath and zoomed down the zipline.

Right as her feet touched the ground, she wobbled trying to catch her balance and her radio beeped again, assuming it was going to be Dutch, she was shocked to hear John’s voice calling out to her.

“Deputy.” His tone was dripping with contempt, and it caused her to growl. As if he had any right to be upset about her for anything when he lied to her for so long.

“What do you want, bitch?” She hissed, her fingers squeezing hard on the device, and she heard him chuckle on the other end.

“Now...is that anyway to address an old friend?” He taunted her, provoking her to let out another growl, and she used both of her hands to mimic a strangling motion on the radio, pretending it was John’s neck.

“Friend?” She hissed again. “What kind of friend hides something so major?” John made a tsking sound at her question.

“Judging by your uncle's reaction, you hid our tryst from him.” That pulled Rhi up short, she hadn’t lied about her relationship with John back then, but Earl had also not asked her what she had been doing either. Earl had always just been concerned with getting her better from her head injury, bless his soul.

“He never asked, so I never brought it up.” She responded lamely, and she mentally slapped herself for sounding so stupid.

“Omission of truth is the same as a lie, my dear.” John continued to taunt, knowing he was getting under her skin just by how heavy her breaths were coming out.

“Fuck you ‘its the same as a lie’!” She shouted into the radio, shaking it violently. “You’re in a brainwashing cult.” She bit out as harshly as she could. “You were trying to get me in there! Do you even give a fuck?”

“We are not a cult!” He shouted back just as loudly, but then there was a long pause as he collected himself. “Why don’t you come by my place and I’ll show you how much I care.” John's tone was velvety smooth, and Rhi glared at the radio in her hand, had he really just tried to flirt with her? She grimaced, the audacity of this man was baffling to her.

“Not in a million years.” She quipped, a frown deep on her face, daring him to say one more thing.

“You couldn’t stay away from me, even if you tried.” Came John’s cocky response, and Rhi’s brows furrowed and she tilted her head, anger quickly rising in her soul. She bit down on the radio hard enough for it to creak in her wrath, and she promised herself shouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. Just as she was getting ready to find Tom, the radio beeped again, and she nearly threw it into the woods when Dutch’s voice sounded.

“Earl is in Faith’s region. Don’t believe everything you see there, and don’t listen to what she says, you got it?” Dutch had come through for her. John thinks she can’t stay away? Well, she will show him.

[bangtanlalaland]

in case we die | kth (m.)

synopsis ↳how could you fall for the living when you’re dead? when all you wanted was to haunt the man that murdered you?

— 1980′s!au

→pairing: serial killer!kim taehyung x spirit!female reader     ↳featuring: bf!kim seokjin

→genre: smut, angst, low key crack

→word count: 10.3k

→contents ⨯ warnings: 10 year age gap (idk if that’s important lolol), spectrophilia (sexual attraction to ghosts), hybristophilia, lots & lots of angst, tiniest bit of fluff, murder (obvi), obsession, hair kink¿ (is that even a thing?), mentions of death, blood here & there, spirits (duh), swearing, dirty talk, masturbation, voyeurism, orgasms, unprotected sex (protect yourselves!), oral (m receiving), deepthroating, cum swallowing, creampie

↳inspired by: Tinashe’s “In Case We Die” mixtape

☞ disclaimer: Please do not take this story 10000% serious. I promise I’m a normal human being with morals. This body of text is for entertainment purposes only. All characters, settings, scenarios, and dialogue are fictitious. Any similarity to events or persons, whether living or dead, is coincidental.

The flash of lightning from the storm and shuddering sound of thunder overtake the gloomy night. The lock clicks as Taehyung pries open the back door of his neighbors’ family-style home. Silently creeping through the kitchen, the lingering scent of a delicious dinner from hours ago fills his nostrils. His senses are peaking, adrenaline is rushing, skin perspiring.

No, this isn’t his first time killing someone. But it’s the first time that he feels things are a bit off. Like he chose the wrong house kind of off. Sweat drops dripping down his forehead, palms are sweating profusely. He knows every single crack and crevice of this house but the feeling is still uneasy.

He stammers in his tracks, thrown off completely. What is the matter? I’ve been doing this for years, he thinks to himself. Is it the fact that he has history with this family? The numerous framed pictures on the wall catch his attention as he stands before the stairs. Or maybe it’s because of you.

He sees the family portrait, with you placed in the middle surrounded by your parents. His heart suddenly drops. The sight of you staring back at him through the photo causes his fists to clench.

Why does he want to kill you? Should he rethink his entire plan? He was 10 years older than you, but had known you and your family for just as long. He wanted you all to himself. Sure you were a young, eighteen-year old, naive, high school senior but he knew it wouldn’t be possible. Especially since you have a boyfriend.

Prom night was a memory he would never forget. Your parents asked him to escort you and your boyfriend in his stationwagon. When he arrived at your home to pick you up, he admired the way your prom dress hugged your figure in the most sexiest way. So much that it made him have wild thoughts about you, leaving him a horny mess at the end of the night.

He remembers storming into his home and locking his bedroom door shut. His fingers run furiously through his black mullet, chest heaving up and down, sweating profusely. Full of rage, frustration, lust, and regret. He unbuckles his belt to drop his pants and briefs all in one go, aching to release his tension.

His member pops straight up, rock hard as he plops on his bed lying on his back. Closing his eyes and picturing you in your prom dress, he wraps his slender fingers around himself and gradually pumps. “Fuck,” he whispers. If only he could rip the material away from your tight bod to expose what he’s been craving for so long. He relishes in the memory of your bouncy, curled hair, filled of volume and basked in the scent of hairspray.

The simple thought of how it would feel to tug your strands between his fingers whilst he penetrates you. He continues to play your voice over and over again in his mind, when you called his name: “Taehyung!” greeting him with open arms, when he arrived at your home. The tantalizing aroma of your being captivated him in that moment. He pumps faster, the sound of your voice echoing through his eardrums.

Lips begin to part, his breathing hitches in the moment. Your face is all he can see. Your voice is all he can hear. Your scent is all he can smell. Your body is what he needs. His member leaks of pre-cum, coating his tip in the liquid as it oozes out. He lets out a breathy moan, calling your name.

The feeling of your skin clinging to his, while he’s on top of you. Both of your bodies scorching and sticking to one another, binded with perspiration. Your moans escaping your lips from under him, inspiring him to pound deeper into you. Your nails scraping his back, your squeals and cries for him are what send him over the edge.

“Taehyung!” you yelp.

He loosens his grip on his throbbing cock, gently stroking up and down. His chest rumbles as a lengthy moan slips from his lips. His lower area tenses up, and his member spasms. He uses his unoccupied hand to grip his bed comforter, twisting and turning the material around as the pleasure washes over his body. The stream of liquid, pooling from his balls to his tip, shoot up in the air and land back on his pelvic area.

“I’m... cumming, fuck.”

The strands of his jet, black hair soaking in sweat and sticking to his forehead. His eyes flutter open, chest heaving up and down, he continues to escape from his orgasmic high. Taehyung stares up into the ceiling, and takes a deep breath.

He props himself up on his elbows to gaze at the cum that’s smothered on his lower half. If only you were there to clean his mess with your mouth, so that he wouldn’t have to waste another tissue to wipe away his jizz and toss it in the trash. He swears, under his breath, at the thought of it.

Then, he’s reminded just how lonely he is. He couldn’t stand seeing you with your boyfriend. Just the thought that someone else got to touch you, kiss you, and worst of all: fuck you. All the things he’d been dying to do to you. He always wished he could snap your boyfriend’s head to end it all. But he knew that wouldn’t solve anything.

He didn’t want to see you hurt, and most importantly he didn’t want you to hate him. Besides, he knew you would never accept him if you found out he’s a serial killer. For years, he became obsessed with the idea of death. He targeted women, because he knew how much more vulnerable they are than men.

That gave him authority and control. In college, he’d done an ample amount of research on life after death, near death experiences, the supposed “afterlife,” and even spectrophilia. There had been a few rare cases of humans having sexual encounters with ghosts.

He also found that if a spirit was not rested, it would linger on Earth within the Spirit World or “Afterlife” as they call it. And based on the research he had done, spirits mostly were not rested in peace because the body itself was murdered.

That was when the idea sparked.

He had finally came to the conclusion that he has to kill you. If he can’t have you in this life, then he could have you in the afterlife. His plan was going to work, and he was going to make sure of it.

Yet another clash of thunder snaps Taehyung out of the pondering thoughts he’s having of his premeditated actions. He shakes his head. Snap out of it! Must not have any second thoughts at this moment. It’s important to stick to the plan. No distractions.

His eyes follow his path ahead of him. He quietly removes his shoes before proceeding further. His light weight causes a slight creak in the stairs, as he mindfully approaches the second level. His eyes dart toward your room, and his heart beats profoundly.

He continues to scan his surroundings, reassuring that no one was around or watching. Being careful in case someone were to awaken. Lightning strikes again, creating a brief flash of light throughout the home. Taehyung silently treads toward your room. He stops in front of your door, inhaling a deep breath.

Taehyung carefully wraps his hand around the door knob, slowly turning it in a counter-clockwise motion. He takes one last breath before pushing the door open gradually. The slight creak in the door startles him, but he’s back at ease when he steps inside your room to find that you’re still sound asleep under your covers.

The door behind him is shut quietly, and he turns around. He shuts his eyes and inhales deeply, taking in the aroma of your room. His right hand slips into the knife pocket attached to his jeans, pulling out the weapon with a needy force, exposing the blade of his bowie knife. He places the knife face down and sneaks it between his chest, inside his corduroy jacket. He continues to stand there simply admiring the view of you in your slumber.

It’s time to put an end to it all.

It’s Sunday in the month of May. You’re home alone with your parents enjoying the remainder of the night. Seated on the couch between your parents, you hear a ding! Your mouth waters at the sound of the microwave beeping. Your buttery popcorn is ready.

You hurriedly skip to the kitchen before the next program on TV comes on. The air from the steamy kernels fills your senses. You quickly grab one of those big, plastic bowls to dump the popcorn in.

“Sweetheart, it’s the news!”

Coming! you respond. You make it back to the living room and plop down on the sofa. The TV stutters a few times, as it did 20 minutes ago. This time your dad gets out of his comfy spot and he does not look happy.

“Goddammit! Nancy, I told you we shouldn’t have bought this from that damn yard sale. You know Tim would sell a lemon for a car if his life depended on it.”

“Oh hush it, Carl. At least we have some kind of entertainment. Right, sweetheart?” your mother asks directing to you.

You nod your head while stuffing your mouth with popcorn. Your dad continues to swear under his breath and pound on the TV with his fist. He fumbles with the antenna and the television gradually comes back to life.

“There we go,” he says, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand and finding his way back to his spot beside you on the sofa.

I repeat. This is John Turner with Channel 4 News. For anyone that is just now tuning in.. Today we have received new information from the local police department on “The Silent Creeper” who has yet striked again.

“Are they still trying to find that crazy man killing all of those women?”

“Last I heard he was about 10 miles from here.”

“10 miles?!”

You can’t hear reporter John at this point, with your parents going back and forth, “Shhh!”

The three of you stare at the TV, in need of answers. Someone hands the reporter a vanilla folder.

“I will now read the statement that the police department has released.”

“To the townspeople, we want to make everyone aware that our team is working diligently to capture the criminal that has continued to terrorize the surrounding areas for the past 3 years, but whom has now reached our town as well. The Silent Creeper was last seen in our town on Friday night.”

You hear your mom gasp. “Oh my God! Friday was prom night!”

“Mom!”

“He assaulted a victim with a deadly weapon and attempted to strangle her with a telephone cord, only to be startled when the cord sparked as the victim was still alive. Realizing that he had not succeeded, he fled the scene. Unfortunately, we had not been able to arrive on scene in time enough to catch him from the time the victim called the station.”

“As each day passes, we are getting closer to putting The Silent Creeper to an end. In addition, we were able to get a brief description from the victim. He is a fair-skinned male standing at about or around 6 feet tall with black hair, medium length. Long enough to touch the base of his neck along with bangs that cover his eyebrows. He is said to have large hands and a slim figure, carrying a knife blade. He is also known to have a hair fetish, collecting samples of head hair from his victims.”

“We ask that everyone locks their doors and windows. Please leave at least one light on in your home that can be visible in the front section of your home, as well as your front porch light. We advise that no one goes out at night unaccompanied. We highly recommend that no one leaves their homes past 10 p.m. whether accompanied or not, until we catch this criminal. Should you have any dire reason to leave your home past those hours, please call the station before doing so.”

“Lastly, we ask that everyone remains calm but stay alert and aware of your surroundings. Please do not answer your doors for anyone late at night, unless you are expecting a visitor. We are currently working on a sketch of the criminal and plan to release it by tomorrow afternoon. Should anyone have any information regarding this case, please give the station a call.”

“Well, there you heard it. Stay safe out there, folks. This is John Turner with Channel 4 News, signing off.”

There’s a brief moment of silence, and the program shuts down. Leaving the TV screen in a color coded background. Your mouth is agape, not believing that the town you grew up in is now not safe. The one place that you called your home, is now a prison.

“He was here?” you slip.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight,” your mother says with a pokerface.

“Honey, don’t worry. Everything is going to be fine,” your father responds almost nonchalantly.

“Don’t worry?! Everything is going to be fine? There is a murderer out on the loose and that could have been OUR daughter! She was out all night for prom with Jin!”

Your head begins to throb with a slight pain, hearing your parents constant bickering. You place the popcorn bowl on the couch and get up to walk towards the stairs, but stop in your tracks and rub your temples with the tips of your fingers.

“Yeah, at the school! That’s why Taehyung escorted them both! At least we are well aware of what the hell is going on in this damn town so we can be prepared!”

“Oh, it’s just so easy for you to brush this off because you are too wrapped up in that... that job of yours to be concerned about your own child’s safety!”

“I don’t have to put up with this! If it makes you feel any better, I do care about Y/N’s safety! She is MY daughter.”

“Well if you care, Carl. Start acting like it!”

You finally crack. “ENOUGH!”

Both of your parents snap towards you.

“Can you both please just stop? It doesn’t make the situation any better with you two arguing.” You pause for a brief moment, recollecting your thoughts.

“Dad, it’s okay if you’re scared. I know your my father and I know you feel obligated to protect me. But I want you to know that I know you’re human. I know you aren’t invincible. And there’s nothing wrong with being scared.”

They both look at each other then drop their heads low.

“Mom, I don’t want you to worry yourself to death. Dad’s right, I was with Jinnie and Taehyung on prom night. And nothing happened. Maybe it’s for a reason. We just have to believe that everything will be okay. At least we know now what we should be aware of and what to do to protect ourselves. I love you both.”

Your dad looks up and walks towards you, with your mother following behind him.

“We love you more, pumpkin.” He states with open arms, embracing you with a hug filled with love. You mother joins the two of you, wrapping her arms around you both.

Meanwhile, Taehyung sits in the dark, at his kitchen table, sipping coffee. He stares into space. Today’s newspaper article sits in front of him on the table, with the headline that reads:

THE SILENT CREEPER STRIKES AGAIN!

He knows he’s fucked. He sips the last swig of his coffee, rises from his seat, and angrily throws the mug at the wall ahead him, the ceramic pieces shattering onto the cold tile.

His fingers find the newspaper, and he tears it apart. Paper pieces landing on the ground. Rage fills his being and he lets out an absurd growl, while pounding on the kitchen cabinets. He runs his hands through his dark mullet, replaying Friday night over and over again in his head.

After coming home that night and releasing his tension, he was alone and he knew it. He needed another rush. Something to get him going. Something to get you off of his mind, because you were all he could think about.

So, what did I do wrong? What is happening to me? What if they catch me? Numerous questions continue to run through his mind. He had been doing this for over 3 years. Why would it all end now?

He's like an expert at this. If he gets caught now, that means all of his work meant nothing. All those times, he had elaborate plans and every one fell through perfectly. So what is the difference now?

He rests his hands on the counter with his arms extended all the way out. Sweat trickles down his forehead as his breathing calms down. The kitchen is filled with silence, leaving a ringing noise in his ears when suddenly it stops as his eyes trail up and through his kitchen window.

The blinds to the window in your room were open, and he could see you. Then it finally hit him, it was like a light-bulb flicked on with an idea in his head. He realizes that he can’t function because of you. You are a distraction. You are ruining his ways. And it is in this moment, Taehyung realizes that he has to kill you tonight.

Before he gets caught for good.

You remember your last night on Earth as if it were yesterday, literally. It wasn’t until you felt an unbearable stinging sensation on your neck that you had awaken from your deep sleep. You felt a warm liquid pooling from your throat, delaying your breathing. Your eyes shot open, and there was Taehyung Kim towering over you. Small spurts of blood shot onto him, covering his cheeks, chin, and forehead.

You couldn’t believe your eyes. It was him. The man you called your neighbor for so many years. Whom you trusted your entire life. You would have never guessed that it was him all along. That he’s The Silent Creeper.

The shine of the moonlight reflected off of his knife, as he held it up. With a hungry force, he plunges the knife into your abdomen. Completely taking your breath away. As much as you tried to fight, you couldn’t.

He had you pinned down with his thighs. You couldn’t move or scream. His large, cold hand covered your mouth to conceal any noises you attempted to make. He removes the blade from you and plunged into you again, causing you to choke. You gather up enough strength to claw at his biceps with your nails, only to fail because of the jacket that conceals his arms.

It was useless.

You knew that it was over. You were going to die. You try opening your mouth to question him. To beg him to stop what he was doing. To probe him as to why he was doing this.

Had I done something wrong? Did I say something wrong? What could cause him to kill me? Why would he want to kill me?

But the last plunge into your tummy makes your hands drop. Noticing this, he drops the knife on the floor and busies himself by cutting a portion of your hair.

Bringing it to his nose to take a lengthy wauf of it, he inhales deeply into his lungs. Your vision blurs as you lose consciousness. You attempt to grab him again, only being able to reach his right cheek. You wanted to scratch his face, to dig into his flesh in hopes that he would makes enough noise to awaken your parents.

But you didn’t have the strength. Unfortunately your hand could only caress him instead. Something you did not want to do. Your hand slowly lost its control as it slid down from his face, to his chest, then to his abdomen, and finally plopped onto his thigh.

Your breathing stopped, but your eyes remained open. You can no longer move, not even a finger. That’s when you knew you were dead. It was strange at first. When you realized you were no longer looking up into his eyes.

Instead, you were watching him from above. Like a birds view.

Where am I? Why am I not lying in bed? I mean, I am still in bed but it’s like I’m floating in the air, staring at my body lying in bed.

You watch Taehyung as he observes your body drenched in a pool of blood, that continues to soak your bed sheet. He simply sits there, tilting his head left and right and caressing your cheek.

“Why couldn’t you just stay out of my way?”

He takes another sniff of your luscious locs in his hand. What does he mean by that? How was I in his way? You attempt to reach out to him but nothing happens. You have no arms, no hands, no fingers. Nothing. You were just there. The fact that you’re dead and can no longer defend yourself, let alone stop him, pissed you off.

“Now look at you. My work here is done.”

His work? What?

He may be “done” with whatever it is he’s talking about, but you weren’t. And you were going to make sure of it. Once you figure out how you can control what’s happening to you. You take a moment to accept what’s already happened.

So why now? You hadn’t even begun to start your life. Graduation was this week, and you couldn’t even make it! And Jin? You can’t imagine how devastated he would be once he finds out you’re dead, murdered actually. Is there anyway you could see him for just one last time?

All you want is to see his gorgeous face light up as his plump, pink lips curl up into the brightest smile that could blind anyone that looks his way. It hurts you to know that you couldn’t even say goodbye. Or just a simple I love you. Just one more time. You needed him, and you know if he could have been there for you to save the day then he would have done so and much more.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you noticed Taehyung lifts himself off of you, planting his feet on the floor of your room. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand and cracks his neck. What is wrong with him? How could one be so cruel? You always saw him to be such a gentleman. Guess you never really knew him all along.

Taehyung kneels down to grab his knife, and quietly sneaks out of your room. You can’t believe that he manages to escape, without a trace. Without anyone knowing what has happened. Only you knew who killed you. You knew who The Silent Creeper is, and there’s nothing you could do about it.

You can’t stop him. You can’t just call the police station to let them know: “Hey guys! You know that creepy guy that’s been killing all those women? Yeah, The Silent Creeper. He’s actually my neighbor. Oh, how do I know? Because he killed me!”

You’re filled with a grand amount of anguish just thinking about it. Your killer walks free as if nothing has happened, as if he didn’t just stab and slice you to your death. You want to scream, fight, hell maybe even just pound on something. But you can’t. You’re stuck “here,” whatever “here” is.

And you want out. You want to end his life. Just as he ended yours. But you won’t back down, not until he gets what he pays for. Even if it takes to haunt him for the rest of his life.

He will pay.

I’ve got to get out of here. You attempt to walk, knowing that you can’t yet you try anyway. But instead of actually moving, you find a way to float down, so now you’re eye-level with your surroundings - as if you were actually walking. Your essence floats throughout the room. You focus your direction towards your room door and just like that you float straight through it and now you’re on the other side.

You continue to float, making your way to your parents room, just so you could see them one last time. You find them sound asleep. The anguish slowly dissipates, and now there’s an overwhelming feeling of gloom. You didn’t get the chance to say goodbye. Your mother lays there on her side, as you watch her chest heave.

Your father on the right side lies on his back, snoring with his mouth open. You approach your mother closer, and try yet again to touch. Just to see if she could feel your presence. You reach out to her, hopefully that you could feel her and her hair strands rise up into the air. She shifts tosses over in the bed; and you immediately let her strands go, afraid that you might awaken her.

I love you mom. I love you dad.

After leaving your parents room, you guide yourself downstairs and through the front door. Then, the world you see from your perspective is revealed. It’s quiet, cold. Everything just seems blue. And there are others like you. Ghosts, souls, spirits, or whatever you call them. They float through the night. It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen before. It’s almost like another world.

Where am I? Is this where people go when they die? If so, what is “this” called?

Faint whispers echo around you. You can’t quite hear what is being said or who is saying it. Then a sudden voice from behind scares you.

“Hey.”

You’re startled to find a spirit within your path. She was beautiful, but she seemed young. Maybe just as you or younger.

“Hi?”

“My names Katie. And you?”

You continue to observe your surroundings, noticing you both are now the only ghosts in plain sight.

“My name is Y/N. Where exactly am I?”

She clears her throat, attempting to speak.

“Well, you’re in the Spirit World as we call it.”

Your eyes widen. Spirit World? Seriously, what the hell is going on?

“I don’t understand. Why am I here? I mean.. I know that I died, but.. why here? Why do I have to be here?”

She watches you in concern, gathering up the correct words to explain.

“Please, come with me. I will tell you as we float.”

Katie leads you on the way down the road of the town. She explains that souls wander Earth when they haven’t been rested. In your case, your soul was not rested because someone murdered you. She also made it clear that throughout time, you’ll find yourself shifting into different ambiences, usually replaying old memories or high peaks during your previous life; or sometimes shifting due to something deeper - such as a premonition. You also learned that she’s 18, just like you.

“Well, if that’s true then were you murdered?” You question her, curious to know as if any more information would make you grow more at ease.

“Yes, I actually was.” She whispers, barely audible.

“Do you also know who your killer is?” She grows silent. You almost take it as a sign that she wouldn’t answer you.

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me.” You plead, feeling a slight bit of guilt.

“It’s.. it’s okay. It was my mother that murdered me.”

Your jaw drops, and you immediately feel a thousand times worse for even asking.

“Katie.. I-I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine how you feel. How long has it been?”

“18 years.”

You’re confused as you ask, “18 years? But you said you’re 18?”

“Oh, silly me. I also forgot to mention that in the Spirit World, you don’t age.”

It all makes sense now. Which brings you to yet another question.

“Well, how come you’re still here? I mean, after all those years. I’m sure that we don’t just die to be stuck in the world we once were in, right?”

“That is true, but from meeting others like us, I’ve learned that the reason why souls like mine end up trapped is because our killer is still alive. And in my case, my mother is still alive, even though she’s been captured for her crime many years ago.”

You both re-approach the street where your house sits next to Taehyung’s. Then, immediate thought hits you. What if he gets caught? Then what? I’ll still be stuck here? I don’t want to be here forever. I want peace. Everlasting peace. You attempt to probe Katie with more questions, but as soon as your mouth parts, all you can grasp is that your surroundings are swiftly changing, as if you’re slipping into a different atmosphere.

“Shit, Katie! Everything is changing! What do I do?”

“It’s okay. Remember? It’s totally normal! You’ll be fine. I promise.”

Everything around you dissipates, until there is absolutely nothing left. You watch as your home vanish piece by piece before your eyes. Your mouth flies agape, paired with that feeling of somber again. Your cries can’t be heard, as you helplessly reach out to the place you once called home. The one place you don’t want to leave. Everything you’ve ever felt and experienced was in that house. As the last remaining portion of your home dissolves, you immediately feel yourself being pulled down into a vacuum. It’s pitch black.

No air, no light, no humans, no spirits, just pure blackness. The feeling of a wet substance under you causes you to look down. Water? Your eyes trail up ahead of you, and you’re stunned to find Taehyung yet again. He looked as if he was in a rush. He removed his jacket, flannel, boots, and jeans.

Hurriedly throwing his belongings into the washer. He bends down to grab a box of baking soda, pouring copious amounts on his clothes, and slamming the washer door shut. The atmosphere ascends, slowly piecing itself together. A few blinks later and you realize that you’re in the basement of his home. He rushes up the stairs and slams the basement door shut, locking it. You continue to observe the area.

Your attention is caught by a small area behind you in the corner. You lightly float to the spot and pull the light metal beads that hang from the light which sits above you. The light flicks on, and you’re instantly taken away. It’s an entire wall of newspaper articles about The Silent Creeper and photos of numerous women that were reported missing and/or bodies have been found.

You scan through each report, only to find that all of them had things in common. They were stabbed to death, with patches of their hair missing. You also noticed for each photo he had of every victim, their wads of hair were attached to them.

Are these all of the women he’s killed? If so, then why? What possesses him to commit such horrid acts?

Then you noticed your photo, along with your hair attached to it. Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud thud from above.

Curious to know, you move up the stairs and through the basement door. You float through his home, searching for the source of the noise you heard. You make a slight left turn after passing the kitchen, and gently walk down the hall. You hear faint sounds coming from the room at the end of the hallway.

Ones that sounded like… moans.

The door slightly cracked, you peeked through the small space that granted you access to see. Taehyung plops onto his bed, and you’re startled when you see he’s furiously pumping his erect member.

“Ugh, Y/N.”

You stop dead in your tracks when he mentions your name. Are you kidding me? He kills me just a few minutes ago, and now he’s moaning my name while jacking off?! That’s it! I’ve had enough! That feeling of rage courses throughout your spirit, and you forcefully enter the room he’s in, before thinking of what you are doing.

Taehyung hears a slight creak from the door and feels a gush of wind washing through him. His eyes immediately snap open and he flinches. Goosebumps appear on his arms. He stares into the space where the door is and looks like he’s seen a ghost, literally. He notices that the door is open – more than what he originally positioned it.

Did the door just move on it’s own? He thinks to himself.

Oh shit, you thought. Can he see me?

He quickly pulls his white undergarment over his member, and slowly walks toward the door. You simply stand there, shocked at what just happened. He treads through you and peeks down the hallway. His deep voice resonates within the home.

“Hello?”

Nothing and no one responds.

“Is anyone there?”

Still no response. He takes this as a sign and steps back into the room, shutting the door behind him. He walks through you again and falls back onto the bed, removing his tight fitted briefs staring at the door. Cock springing free, he bends his arm in a “V” shape and rests it behind his head.

His fingers find his cock again and he pumps slowly. Pre-cum dripping from within his tip, creating a squelching noise as he continues to pump. You can’t help but feel uncomfortable watching your killer masturbate. But, you have to admit that he does look hot.

After all, he’s a guy. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think Taehyung was attractive. Of course, you always thought he was. But, that’s besides the point. You shake your thoughts off, and focus on the real reason as to why you’re here. Which brings you to more questions…

Why am I here? What am I to do to him? If I couldn’t physically touch him, how could I ever hurt him? How am I supposed to kill him? Do I even want to kill him? I just want all of this to end already. I need answers, but most of all I need Seokjin. I have to find a way to get to him.

Maybe I could write a note or something. To tell him I miss him and love him, and that even though I’m gone, I will never forget him. But how could I do that? If no one can see me, feel me, or touch me, how could I ever say goodbye to Jin who was once my boyfriend?

“Ahh, baby. Fuuuck, cumming.”

You’re interrupted by the sounds of Taehyung moaning again. Your gaze trails over to him on the bed, pumping furiously as streams of white sperm gush from his throbbing member. He moans your name over and over again as if it were a chant. You’re disgusted and amused all at the same time.

You simply cannot comprehend how he could jack off after murdering someone. He’s seriously sick. If he just killed you, why would he moan your name as he orgasms? It just doesn’t make sense. You can’t take seeing anymore of him, as you’re convinced he’s mentally ill. No person with benevolence would do such a thing.

Let me out of here! I have to see my boyfriend. Please! I just need to see him.

Once again, the atmosphere deteriorated. Gradually shifting the ambience.

The world pieced itself together once again, and here you are standing in the gym entrance of your high school. The sound of music booming from inside, students standing in line waiting to enter the building, and roars emanating from cars entering the parking lot.

Prom night? But... why am I here?

You stand there dumbfounded. Then the sight of you and Jin walking with arms interlinked catches your attention.

You wouldn’t want to spend your prom night with anyone else other than your boyfriend Seokjin Kim. You were attired in a hot pink satin dress, with ruffles at the bottom and on the shoulders paired with the white corsage. Your hair was curled in the most bounciest way. Jin stood tall, wearing a black and white tuxedo along with a hot pink bow tie, rocking his signature dirty blonde mullet.

Before entering the schools gymnasium, you look back to find Taehyung’s stationwagon is still parked at the entrance. He waves you both off. Jin nudges your arm to get your attention.

“Babe, look!”

You both stare at how well everything came together. Admiring the streamers and disco balls hanging throughout the gym, the confetti scattered over the floor, and the heart pounding bass of Wham! playing.

“Woah, the school committee really did an amazing job!”

Jin spies the area where the photographer is taking photos of each couple in front of a backdrop.

“Hey, let’s go get our picture taken!” he pulls you along with him, almost making you tumble.

On the other side, Taehyung still stands in the same spot from when you last saw him. He takes a deep breath while making his way into the automobile, closing the door shut. He rests his head on the steering wheel.

If only I could have her instead of that douche bag of a boyfriend she has.

He sits there contemplating on his next move. What should he do? Should he stay here? Or should he leave then return an hour later? He needs to blow off some steam, and being here another second is not helping him at all. He slips the key in the ignition and pushes the gas pedal with his foot, taking off into the night.

After releasing his tension at home, he still felt like something was missing. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, and he needed so desperately for it to stop. And he needed it to stop now. He hopped back in his stationwagon to scout for his next victim. Several minutes later and he finds a ranch on a farm.

He parks his car, and reaches under the seat to grab his infamous knife. He exits the vehicle and pops the trunk to acquire a tire iron then hikes up the trail towards the home. It was a small home, and no lights were on. He assumed whoever was inside may have been asleep, noticing a car parked in the driveway.

Gripping the tire iron firmly, he makes his way toward the back of the home to find an entrance inside. To his luck, he finds a back door and smashes the lock with the tire iron, prying the door open. He quietly steps inside and just when he thinks he’s got things under control. An older female flicks the kitchen light on, startling Taehyung.

“Shit,” he drops the tire iron on the floor.

The woman lets out a piercing screech and rushes over to reach the rotary phone on the wall.

“Hey! Get back here!”

Ignoring his commands, she grasps the phone, yet it slips between her fingers as Taehyung races toward her and plunges her against the wall with his body, pulling her away from the phone and against him. He wraps his arms around her, holding her still.

“No! No, please don’t! No, I don’t want to die, please!” The woman sobs, as her fingers graze across Taehyung’s jacket.

“Now, now don’t worry. It’s okay. Shh, shhh..” Taehyung whispers, caressing her face as he slips his other hand into his pocket to obtain his clippers.

“Please don’t hurt me, I promise I won’t say anything!”

Taehyung chops a wad of the woman’s hair, taking in a quick sniff before stuffing it into his pocket along with the clippers. The woman gathers enough strength to kick Taehyung in the knee. He groans at the pain and releases his grasp around her.

“Ahhh, fuck! You bitch!”

He limps to the tire iron and lunges it toward the woman’s head, causing her to drop on the floor of the kitchen. She lies there with a small gash to the head, blood slowly streaming down her face.

Taehyung bends over to pick up the phone that was hanging on the ground. He kneels down to lift the woman up, wrapping the cord around her throat.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you off that easily.”

Despite her breathing, he pulls the cord tighter around her throat, attempting to strangle her to ensure she was dead. And out of nowhere a powerful spark emits from the cord and the woman’s eyes shoot open. Taehyung bounces up on his feet and stares in awe, the woman gradually awakens and coughs, using her arms to prop herself up on the floor.

She turns her gaze to him, getting one glance before he storms off into the night. He bolts down the trail, panting, and nearly out of breathe. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. His plans never failed. His fingers shaking, he fumbles around in his jacket pocket to get the car keys so he can open the door.

Moments later, he’s speeding down the road, en route to the high school.

Someone had clearly spiked the punch, because after a few cups, you and Jin suddenly became hornier than usual. And after a few dances, it really set the mood. “Careless Whisper” started playing. It was your favorite song and he knew it.

“Come on Jinnie, dance with meeee.” You whined, pulling on his arm.

“Babe, I’ll be right back I promise okay? I have to pee really bad.”

“Pinky promise?”

“I pinky promise.”

“Bring me back more punch!”

He smiles at you and blows a kiss, walking away to the boys restroom.

You couldn’t believe that you didn’t notice this that night. But Jin never went to the restroom. Your spirit follows him as he sneaks out of the gym door, and entered the hallway of the school. He kept looking back, to make sure no one was following or watching him.

At the end of the hall, he makes a left turn. And enters one of the classrooms, shutting the door behind him. It was Mr. Hopper’s chemistry class. What’s he doing in there? You’re startled when you peek through the window of the door. He was inside with another girl.

You float inside the room to find that he was making out with her. Oh my God! He cheated on me with Jessica Jefferson?! The rudest, blondest bitch of the school. She runs the clique with other mean bitches and they always torment freshman.

That familiar feeling of rage fills you. You’d been dating Jin since junior year. Everything was perfect. I mean, sure you both had arguments here and there. But you both were inseparable. You were convinced that you’d spend the rest of your life with him.

Is this why I’m here? To see that he cheated on me?

You decided to leave the classroom and check on your human self. You remembered sitting on the bleachers of the gym, waiting for your boyfriend to return. You also remembered seeing Taehyung through the door of the gym entrance. You waved at him at first, with a bright smile. But, he didn’t wave back. He simply stood there, eyeing you like a hawk.

It was such an uncomfortable feeling. You awkwardly look over to the students dancing, to try and break the eye contact. After a few beats, you look back to see if he’s still standing there but he wasn’t. Just like that, he was gone. Why was he watching you? More importantly, how long was he standing there watching you until you noticed? You never understood why. That is, until now.

"Boo!”

You screamed as your boyfriend startled you from your trance.

You shove him on his arm. “Asshole! Why would you do that?”

“I’m sorry, babe. Just thought it would be funny.” Your expression gives it away, as you continue looking at the door Taehyung was standing behind.

“What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing. Let’s just go.” You grab Seokjin’s hand.

“Hey, I know the perfect place.” You stare into his almond-shaped eyes, admiring the way they curl as he smiles.

You follow yourself as Jin drags you to the boys locker room.

Although, you’re still curious to know why you’re back at prom night, this day merely now a memory. You watch as the being that was once you, straddled Jin on the bench before the lockers. Your tongues dancing with each other.

He supports your back with his hands, running down to your waist. Your fingers tugging through the thick strands of his mullet, while your hips grind onto his erect member that hides underneath his suit. Gushes of arousal coat your panties.

“Mmm, babe. I’m so horny for you,” Jin moans.

He plants kisses along your jaw, your head falls back taking in the nostalgic feeling all awhile simultaneously laughing. The alcohol clearly in your system. You bring yourself up to whisper in his ear.

“Let me suck you off, baby.”

You stand up to give him room to remove his trousers and briefs in one go. His cock is rock hard, sprouting up and free. You bend over to drop a line of spit on his cock, using your hand to spread it all over his shaft. He hisses at the feeling of your warms hands massaging his member.

“You’re so hard, Jinnie.” You giggle as you let yourself down on your knees. You tease him, first giving his tip a few kitten licks before opening your mouth wide enough to fit his thick cock inside. You enclose your mouth around him, gaining another moan.

He watches you from above, teeth grazing against his bottom lip.

“Yes, Feels... so good.”

His hips buck, moving to the rhythm of your mouth. You use his thighs as leverage. Moans escape you as he continues his pace, sliding his lengthy cock against the soft texture of your tongue. Saliva trailing from your mouth onto his member, and back toward you sliding down your chin and neck.

Jin places his hand on the back of your head to push his cock further down your throat.

“Fuck.. Just like that. Don’t fucking stop.”

The gargling sound of your spit echoes throughout the room. The stretch your throat feels from his cock causes your eyes to water, making it difficult to keep them open.

“Look at me, babe.”

You follow his commands and look up at him. The sight of you stuffed full of him in your mouth along with watery eyes is nearly enough for him to climax all over your face. The burn in your lungs to breathe approaches. You graze your nails rapidly against his thighs hoping he would get the memo. Thankfully, he pulls out the way out.

You let go of his cock with the sound of a pop, taking a deep inhale to regain your breathing back. You look up at him while pumping his cock in your palm.

“Jinnie.. do you love me?”

His eyes widen at your question.

“Are you kidding? Of course I love you, baby. You’re my everything.” He wipes away the tear that falls from your eye, still gathering your breath together from the deepthroating session. With a lustful look in your eyes, you plead,

“Show me, then.” His lips curl into that gorgeous smile. He guides you up on your feet.

“Bend over,” he commands. You support your weight on the bench with your arms, doing as he tells you so. You feel your dress being lifted up. His fingers trace along the shape of your vulva, feeling the dampened material.

“How horny are you, baby?”

“Mmm so horny. Please just show me already.”

His fingers find the seam of your panties, pulling them all the way down until the drop to the floor. He licks to the pads of his fingers and rubs them along your folds.

“Wow, so wet. Just how I like it.”

Your pussy pulses, aching to feel his cock inside of you. A small groan leaves your lips.

“You want me baby?” He coos while brushing his soaked member across your drenched folds.

“Yes, please. Need your cock.”

His hand grips your waist while the other eases himself in you. The bulbous tip stretching your lips, causing you to whine. Your wet coats his cock as a lubricant as he pushes in further, making it easy to slip in all the way.

He uses his remaining hand to place on your waist and he completely bottoms you out.

“Fuck, Jinnie!”

“I love you, baby.” He pulls out of you completely and rams back all the way in, balls deep inside your pussy, making you buck forward and your mouth to fly open with a gasp.

“I love you too... Oh my gosh, so deep.”

Your arms reaches around to push him back, attempting to ease his pace, but he slams harder into you. You claw his thigh with your nails, in response. The pain of him pounding himself deep inside you, hitting your cervix combined with the pleasure of your walls being stimulated leaves you in a state of reverie.

“Mmm, I love your pussy and how tight you are around me. Wanna make you cum all over my cock, babe. Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yes! I can, baby.”

Jin picks up the pace, literally hammering into you. The sound of his balls slapping against your ass, mixed with your moans, ricochet off of the walls. He licks the pad of his fingers and reaches down to rub your clit in circles. Applying just the right amount of pleasure.

Your spirit continues to watch, remembering that prom night was not only the last time you’d saw your boyfriend but it was also the last time you both had sex with each other. You miss the way he felt inside of you. He filled every bit of you and never failed to please you in the most sensual way. He always made sure you orgasmed before him.

“Oh, Jinnie... I’m cumming, baby!”

“Yeah? Cum all over my cock, babe. There you go...” Your walls pulse rapidly around his length and your body trembles below him. The constant contractions of your kitty around Jin causes him to twitch inside of you.

“Oh, babe! Fuck..” His cock shoots streams of his warm jizz, coating your inner walls white. He holds himself inside, making sure to bury his seed deep within your core. Your legs still shaking, he holds you to support you up from your orgasm still washing over you as thick ropes of his cum oozes out of your pulsing core. He bends over to whisper.

“Do you believe me now?”

Funny that he asked me that in the moment. Because I actually believed him. I really loved him. And I thought he loved me too. So, why would he do this to me? He continued acting like nothing ever happened. He lied to me. He never went to get punch. Would he even care that I died? What am I supposed to feel like now?

That familiar feeling of rage returns again, and you storm out of the lockers room. This time, you decide to find your way to Taehyung. Maybe you can get an answer as to why he was staring at you.

You find him sitting in his stationwagon, in the parking lot of the school, frozen. A million questions run through his mind. He’s lost, and he knows he’s doomed for good. Gently floating inside, you sit in the passengers seat. His hands are nervously rubbing his thighs up and down.  As if, he were afraid of something. Then you’re shocked to hear him speak.

“I have to kill her... but when? And how? What if I try and things don’t work out just like tonight. What will happen then? Was this a sign?”

His fingers trail through his mullet, and he keeps looking back.

“Fuck! I don’t know what to do. Don’t know what to do.”

He was talking about me? Wasn’t he?

“She’ll never accept me for who I am. I just want her. Want her so bad. Why can’t I just have her, God? Why?!”

Was he into me this whole time? Is that why he killed me? Because he somehow thought we could be together?

As time went on, you still roamed the Earth as a spirit. The sketch of The Silent Creeper had been released, and it wasn’t long until everyone figured out it was none other than Taehyung Kim. The town constantly tortured him. Kids threw eggs at his home windows, others threw rocks at his car, and some teenagers spray painted on his garage door:

MURDERER LIVES HERE

But you were there for him through it all. The night he’d found out that you were here all along, startled him. Even though it was part of his plan. There was a sense of pride that filled him, knowing that it had worked. But as the days came and went for some reason, you felt drawn to him. You thought at first maybe it was because of pity, but it was something that pulled you in closer. That made you more vulnerable. Maybe it was the sex? As the weeks went by, you both continued having sex with each other. You never thought it was even possible to have sex as a ghost, but here you are yet again.

“Oh fuck, baby.. yes! Just like that, Y/N. Don’t stop.” Taehyung moans as you continue to ride his cock. From his point of view, it literally looks like he’s fucking air. But his eyes are closed, as all he can imagine is your tits bouncing up and down, your head falling back with lips parted, relishing in the way his cock feels filling up your walls. He feels the warm, wet of your arousal clenching tight around him. He uses the palm of his hand to grip your hips, helping to guide you up and down on his cock.

He feels your walls suddenly escaping from him, and he frowns. Looking down at his throbbing, stiff member. Then a warm slick feeling encases his cock, and traces of saliva are visible. He throws his head back after realizing you’re sucking him off. His fingers reach out into the air, wanting to find where your hair is so that he can feel you. A small smirk appears on his face when his fingers are finally entangled in your mane.

It’s smooth, silky, and feels like Heaven between his fingers. He tightens his grip, pushing your head further down onto his cock. He watches as his member leaks of pre-cum, mixed with your arousal and saliva. The mixture streaming all the way down to his balls. He’s on the verge of cumming any moment now. He feels the texture of your tongue along the underside of his shaft, moving down to his testicles. Your nails gently grazing across his thighs, leaving behind a small trace of scratches.

His breathing hitches, as he feels himself near his orgasm. You hold his cock in your throat, swallowing him whole and you take this chance to hum. Your vocal cords vibrating around his cock. The sensation deep within the pit of his groin bursts. His eyebrows furrowing together at how intense his orgasm feels.

“Fuck, Y/N.”

The muscles of his pelvic area tenses up, his cum shooting into streams down your throat. He watches as it disappears into thin air. He knows you’ve swallowed his seed. He sighs of relief, completely satiated of his hungry desire for you. That is, for now. Chills run through him as he feels your lips pressing against his. His eyes naturally closing.

What feels like your hands gripping his arms, caressing his sides, makes him melt within your touch. He reaches his hand up, caressing what feels like your cheek. He doesn't want to stop kissing you. He’s waited for what felt like an eternity for this. In an instant, you pull away. Watching him as his eyes slowly open.

How have I come to fall in love with a murderer?

Taehyung’s confession on prom night had continued playing itself over in your thoughts. Leading up to now, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him ever since. After thinking of the first time when you visited him, and he saw the door open when no one was physically there, you contemplated visiting him again. It was the first time you both had sex, ever. Well more specifically with you as a ghost.

Just as before, he was in his room masturbating. This time he was fully naked and his door was opened wide. He was a lot more lanky than you thought, with a faintly visible six pack. His hand slithered up and down his shaft, and small moans escaped from him. You actually loved the sight of him getting off. It’s pretty hot.

You had taken the chance to show him you’re here, just as he always wanted. It was that day you learned Taehyung isn’t able to exactly see you, but he can feel you. As if you are actually there, in the spirit. Either way, the sex was like no other. He even told you that he was ready to die, just so that he could actually be with you. Not only to feel you, but to see you. Touch you physically. You being there as a ghost was like a hallucination for him, and he knew eventually he would grow tired of not being able to see your face as you writhe underneath him.

Your parents immediately moved out of state after finding out who The Silent Creeper really is. They were completely stunned. Before moving, your dad quit his job. On the contrary, your mother couldn't move on. After all, she was the one that found your body mutilated in your bedroom. It became so horrifying for her that her doctor ordered her off to a licensed therapist.

Things were bad. Really bad. Seokjin appeared at your funeral. After it was over, you followed him home. He was so full of rage that he completely tore down his entire room. Ripping off the wallpaper that once decorated his walls,  cracking his vinyls in half that he had tucked away under his bed, until he came to a specific one. It was for “Careless Whisper” by George Michael.

He pops the vinyl into the record player, and sets himself on his bed as the songs begins.

“Should've known better than to cheat a friend And waste the chance that I'd been given So I'm never gonna dance again The way I danced with you”

Tears stream down his cheeks, and he covers his face. His sobs can be heard throughout the room. You observe as his back rises up and down from his heavy crying. You wish that you could kiss him and slap him at the same time. You wish he never cheated on you, and you wish you never died. Maybe it would hurt less not knowing he did such a thing.

After sex with Taehyung, you decide to visit your home again, wanting to bathe in the memories there. But something has caught your attention. Just as you floated outside, four police cars were parked in the street in front of Taehyung’s home. They were all armed with their guns, aiming at the front door.

One officer had a megaphone, calling Taehyung out of his home.

“On the count of three, we ask that you please come out with your hands up in the air! Should you try to harm anyone, we will have no other choice but to open fire.”

You watch as Taehyung cracks the door open slowly and exits with his hands in the air. Then, he stops, quickly reaching into his jacket pocket, pulling out his bowie knife. You’re shocked at the action, but he had been at the end of his ropes with everything. And just like that, the officers open fire.

Piercing his body with bullets, and one going straight though his forehead. His body grows limp, falling into his knees and the weapon drops to the ground. Taehyung falls face forward onto his lawn.

The environment shifts again, and you’re blinded by the color white. Holding your hands up to cover your eyes, trying to escape the brightness that causes your eyes to shut closed. Then the sudden sound of a deep voice captures your attention.

“Do you wish to repent your sins before me?”

Looking down, you carefully open your eyes and notice that you’re able to see yourself, your hands, skin, feet, toes, everything. Standing above you is the Almighty, a bright source of light that is still difficult for your eyes to adjust to.

I must have been sent to my judgment.

You hear numerous cries below you, noticing the Underworld below the clouds under your feet. Lightning flashes as several fallen angels snatch souls away, sweeping them into oblivion. You’re instantly distracted by another deep, baritone voice ahead of you. Not like the previous voice you’d heard. It was a voice you found to be familiar.

“Are you calling me a sinner?”

You can barely make out the figure, but realize that the being is suddenly caught by one of the Fallen that sprung into the air down below, flying away. You hear a faint call of your name in the distance. You look down below you and spy a familiar face. It was Taehyung. 

“Y/N!” His hand reaching out toward you. A tear falls from your face watching him being pulled away from you.

The first voice you heard speaks again, directing His question to you this time.

“Do you wish to repent your sins before me?”

You turn your gaze toward the Almighty towering above you. Your eyes closed shut yet again from the light. You shake your head and slip with a slight confidence in your tone:

“No.”

a/n: aaaand that’s all everyone! can you guess what happened to Y/N after not repenting her sins? let me know in the comments! I’ve had this idea in mind for soooo long now & wanted to release it on Halloween but I’m a thousand days late pls forgive me. also pls forgive me if this is horribly edited ok it’s like 1 AM, oh & I’m wondering if I should write a sequel to this (promise it will be much more smutty smut & focus more on Y/N’s perspective) let me know in the comments if you’d like to read more! anyways, I hope you all had a fun and safe Halloween!

much love, 💜

[nbrook29]

Kiss or Slap part 2

part 1

Robbe stands in front of the mirror, eyes critical as he assesses the forest green shirt, plucking at the collar that’s digging uncomfortably into his neck. It’s not like the shirt is ugly; the problem is that it’s not and that it looks a bit too formal. But then again, Robbe wouldn’t know for sure since he’s never been on a real date before. He’s feeling a bit helpless in that area, to be honest.

He has a half a mind to text the boys and ask for advice, but just as the thought passes his brain he scoffs because it’s just silly; the only thing he would gain from doing that would be merciless teasing for weeks on end. Thanks, but no thanks.

Sighing, he glances in the direction of the hall, debating with himself whether asking for Zoe’s opinion is the right option here, but deep down he knows that otherwise, he’s gonna be standing i front of that mirror agonizing over his appearance for the next twenty minutes if someone doesn’t talk some sense into him.

The way Zoe’s eyes widen in surprise when he enters her room lets him know that yes, he is overdressed. 

“Too much?” He scrunches up his face, feeling a bit self-conscious.

“Well, I mean... you look really nice, but, um, maybe go for a t-shirt instead?” Zoe suggests, looking almost apologetic. Robbe hovers in the threshold, still not totally convinced.

“Yeah?” 

“You clearly feel uncomfortable in that, plus he’s not taking you to an expensive restaurant or something so I think you should just go for chill,” she pauses, trying to remember something. “That pink t-shirt you have? You look really cute in it! You should wear that.”

“I don’t wanna look cute, Zoe, I wanna look hot,” Robbe blurts out, pink blooming on his cheeks when Zoe coos at him in that annoying way she always does and he immediately covers his face. “Stop.”

She giggles at his embarrassment, patting his arm consolingly as she pretends to give him a once over. “You do look hot, no matter what shirt you’re wearing.”

“Yuck, that sounds weird coming from you.” Robbe fake-gags and gets a smack on his chest. “I’m outta here, thanks.” Before he manages to close the door, Zoe catches his arm and shoots him a comforting smile.

“And calm down. He’s already into you, he won’t care what you’re wearing, Robbe.”

It’s easier said than done. Ever since he woke up, he’s been a giddy, anxious, yet excited mess, butterflies flying rampant in his stomach, fingers drumming absent-mindedly on the nearest surface, and he’s-

Well.

He’s been kinda freaking out.

Somehow (he has no idea how), he managed to keep his cool during that faithful afternoon a week ago when a boy came up to him with a dumb YouTube challenge, he’d even call himself flirty and bold. 

He’s not so sure he’ll be able to provide a repeat performance tonight. Not with that particular charming smile directed at him, almost making him whimper because no one should have the right to be that handsome. At the time, the infatuation was laced with disappointment and anger so Robbe guesses that’s what helped him keep his cool.

Only to melt into a pile of goo minutes later when Sander’s cheeks flushed red in embarrassment over what popped on his phone screen.

Bambie eyes

Robbe smiles at the memory, trying to keep it small and not look like a psychopath that’s grinning to himself for no reason. It proves to be difficult though, those damn butterflies not easing out when an image of Sander combing his fingers through his longish bleached strands pops into his mind, uninvited, but oh so welcome if Robbe’s being honest.

Back in his bedroom, he fishes out the pink t-shirt from the drawer, sending a thank you to the past Robbe who finally did his laundry last Wednesday. His comfort level is up immediately after he takes the green shirt off and pulls the pink one over his head; the material doesn’t dig in anywhere, and it’s just... him. He doesn’t feel like a clown anymore. 

A quick look at his watch and he curses under his breath. If he doesn’t want to be late, he needs to leave in five minutes tops. It’s probably better this way since it means less time for freaking out. Once he sprays a bit of cologne on his clothes and grabs his wallet, he gives himself one last look in the mirror, fingers attempting to tame his curls at least a little, but it proves to be a lost cause. As usual. His hair just has a mind of its own. He doesn’t let himself obsess too much about it though, and as he closes the door behind the flatshare his mind wanders to two weekends ago, the corners of his lips twitching on their own.

  “You look like an angel with those curls. I should get you a halo or s’mthing.”

He’s in his personal space all of a sudden and as Sander’s breath grazes his face, Robbe’s own breath stutters, but the freakout has no time to breakthrough on his features because Sander’s eyes swivel up, glazed with alcohol as he tugs gently at one of the brown strands.

“I really like ‘em, you know? They’re so... silky. And pretty.” A lightbulb goes on in his head, his lips widening in a smile. “You’re so pretty.”

 Drunken confessions never really seemed particularly sweet to him, but with Sander gazing at him like he hung the moon and the stars, his jaw slightly open as if in wonder, it was difficult for Robbe to feel anything else than fondness, heart fluttering in his chest, so enamoured with the boy with white hair that it would have blushed if it could.

That white hair and green eyes have been the main stars of his dreams ever since.

Okay. That’s not entirely true. There were glimpses before that. After all, Sander had been the first thing he noticed at the Academie. But at the time, he had only been his looks to Robbe, golden skin and intriguing smirks, face scattered with moles and legs for days. 

And lips. Lips that looked soft like a rose petal.

He had dreamed about those lips a lot then.

He still can’t believe his brain holds the memory of kissing them with his own. 

Again. Peak boldness for him.

And yet, he’s so nervous now, walking fast-paced to the nearest tram stop, praying his chaotic energy won’t make him look like an idiot once he’s faced with Sander again. His only saving grace, the only reason the full on freakout seems to be kept at bay is the reminder that even though Sander is way out of his league, he’s also a bit of a dork, and that honestly makes Robbe feel better. 

He’s a hot dork though.

But a dork nonetheless.

Deep down Robbe hopes he’s gonna become his dork. 

The city passes behind the window in a whirlwind of colors, creating the perfect background for him to get lost in his thoughts, daydreaming to the sounds of the playlist crafted specifically for him, courtesy of Sander. As Bowie sings about absolute beginners, a notification ping pulls him back from his musings, lips smiling on their own when he sees Sander posted a photo.

And what a photo it is, fuck.

A part of his face, edges smudged with shadows leaving only his eye in focus, dark eyebrow curtained a little with wet bleached strands, everything in black and white aesthetics because Sander rarely does colors, Robbe came to find out. 

  With eyes completely open

But nervous all the same

 He wonders if the lyrics relate to their date or it’s just his wishful thinking.

Quick fingers like the photo and then take a screenshot of his own Spotify to send it to him. Robbe doesn’t have to wait long for the reply, a string of “🤯” blowing up his phone followed by “I’m so proud 🤧”, which again confirms that Sander is, indeed, a dork. 

Robbe shoots him a “😂” and scrolls up a bit to check the address again.

 Robbe: I watched the video

Robbe: It was cool 😎 

Sander: Oh yeah? 

Robbe: But somebody cut me out of it 🤔🙄 

Sander: I told them to, it was too personal 😌 

Robbe: Oh 🙃 

Sander: + You're too pretty for our dumb videos 🤷🏼‍♂️ 

Robbe: 🙈 stop 

Sander: You are 🤷🏼‍♂️

Robbe: You're making me blush 🙊 

Sander: Well good, you're cute when your cheeks are all pink 😏 

Robbe: 🤪 

Sander: But you're always cute so 🤷🏼‍♂️

Robbe: Okay stop haha 

Sander: 😎 

Robbe: Thank you tho 😊 

Sander: You're welcome x

Sander: Now go to sleep, I need you to be rested for tomorrow! 

Robbe: Tell me where we're going 🥺 

Sander: Nope 

Robbe: Please 🥺 

Sander: Nope 😌 

Robbe: How should I know you're not gonna kidnap me or sth 🤔 

Sander: Robin! I would never! 😟😟 

Robbe: Robin? 

Sander: Yeah

Sander: You like it? :) 

Robbe: I think so :)

Sander: Good 😌

Sander: Oranje Street, that's all you need to know 

Sander: Goodnight Bambi Robin 🦌😏 

Robbe: Shdjskahaggfdsk 🙈🙈 

Sander: Hehe

Sander: 😚 

Robbe: 😊

 The Robin part pulls another involuntary grin out of him again, the jitters in his stomach intensifying, but now they’re more anticipatory than nervous. He checks his hair in his selfie camera, running a hand through it to mess it up a little just when his stop comes. 

The neighborhood is busy with the Friday rush and he has trouble finding white hair in the crowd from where he’s leaning on the lantern. Swaying awkwardly he keeps looking around, feeling his stress levels raising with each second and telling himself to get a fucking grip. 

“Hey, Robin.”

His poor heart just can’t catch a break today. 

Jumping a foot above the ground before swiveling around to smack Sander’s chest, the first thing he sees is his toothy grin, face smug at almost giving Robbe a heart attack.

“Asshole.” His grumble is all for show, the corners of his mouth pulling up when Sander presses a soft hello kiss to his cheek.

“Sorry, didn’t wanna scare you.” He could win awards for least sincere apologies ever, but Robbe would lie to himself if he said he didn’t find his playfulness attractive. Also, he’s still trying to get his heartbeat under control that has less to do with actual scare and more with the warm breath grazing his ear and the fanthom feel of lips on his cheek.

“Sure you didn’t.”

Sander chuckles at his deadpan face that lets him know Robbe knows he’s full of shit. Raising his arms in capitulation, he says another sorry before giving him a not so subtle once over, his features softening.

“You look really pretty.” 

His voice sounds uncharacteristically shy, Robbe notices, and he keeps biting his lip nervously. This sudden shyness looks exceptionally endearing on him.

Eyeing his t-shirt critically, he cocks his brow at Sander, hand scratching his head in a self-conscious move. “Thank you. It’s nothing special though.”

“Then I guess it’s just you,” Sander replies, shrugging matter-of-factly, and keeps giving him that charming smile that weakens Robbe’s knees. 

But he still rolls his eyes on him, snorting as he mutters “smooth” to which Sander pretends to hold his chest dramatically, swearing it’s not a line and that he’s being honest.

“Okay, okay, let’s say I believe you,” Robbe gives in after being defeated with a strong case of puppy eyes. “Now come on, tell me where we’re going.”

The faux-serious expression on Sander’s face melts into a full of promise smirk. “Prepare to be mind blown!”

And then he takes off, firing a wink over his shoulder at Robbe who’s gaping at him, flabbergasted. This mixture of confidence and shyness taking turns emanating from Sander has a peculiar effect on him, making him follow the boy without another question. He’s intrigued, curious to find out what’s underneath this cockiness that Robbe has a feeling is all for show, a cover up, but for what he has no clue. 

They fall into an easy conversation on the way to their destination, interrupted with a string of Robbe’s guesses as to what that destination is and Sander shooting him down everytime, his smile getting fonder with each pout directed at him. So far it’s been way less awkward than Robbe feared, familiar almost, safe, melting away the anxious lump in his stomach. The good-natured teasing reminding Robbe of his relationship with Zoe or Milan, only the furtive yet lingering glances they keep shooting at each other when they think the other is not looking the sign of this being more than just a friendly hangout.

“Any plans for the Eenvoud sequel?” They’re crossing the street when Sander asks the question, tongue in cheek, which makes Robbe scowl in disdain. Even though internally he’s pleased Sander went and looked him up online. He was less pleased with the teasing that ensued a few days ago.

  Sander: I had no idea 

Robbe: ? 

Sander: That I'm going on a date with a star 

Robbe: 😂 what 

Sander: Music star 😏

Sander: Or should I say

Sander: Dance star 🤔 

Robbe: Oh fuck 

Sander: You're v e r y talented Robbe IJzermans 

Robbe: Shut uuuuuup 

Sander: 😂 

Robbe: You weren't supposed to see that 😭 

Sander: Why not? You're so cute in it 😌 

Robbe: 🙈

Robbe: Please don't hold it against me 

Sander: Never :) 

Robbe: You're gonna hold it against me aren’t u 

Sander: A bit :D 

Robbe: 🥺 

Sander: But in a loving way! 

Robbe: Guess I have to now go and find blackmail material on your channel 😌 

Sander: As if you hadn't already 😏 

Omg you're so full of yourself 🙄 

Sander: 😛 

Robbe: Should I be expecting hoards of fans throwing themselves at you when we're out? 

Sander: Haha no

Sander: Maybe a few ;) 

Robbe: Great, now I'm even more nervous :( 

Sander: Why are you nervous? 🥺

Sander: Are you nervous about our date?  

Robbe: Well um 

Robbe: A bit? 

Sander: I'm nervous too

Sander: But that's because I wanted to go out with you since I saw you on campus the first day

Robbe: I wanted that too

Sander: Oh 😌

Robbe: Yeah :)

 “Fuck off,” he barks out a laugh, shoving him without much force once they’re back on the sidewalk. Sander pretends to be offended with the attack, huffing and shaking his head, but then bumps him with his hip all the same, smug when Robbe splutters in indignance in turn.

“Keep this up and I’m gonna rethink my forgiveness.” Robbe’s tone is lofty, even if his eyes scream he’s just teasing, an attempt to rile Sander up. 

The boy’s eyes widen comically, hand flying to his chest. “You wouldn’t do that to me, Robin.” 

There’s that nickname again, making his breath catch again, and the only response he can manage now is a flirty smile, or at least something that is supposed to look like it. 

The afternoon heat subsides on their way to Sander’s mysterious place, but Robbe’s still glad he left that green long-sleeved shirt at home when they slow down and Sander turns to him with an expectant look.

“Carnival?”

“I didn’t remember you giving me your number, but I did remember your preaching about cotton candy being the superior junk food,” Sander rushes with an explanation like he feels his choice needs a proper justification. “And it just so happened that a carnival came to Antwerp this weekend. I thought it was a sign?” He scratches his nose, his stance a little unsure as he awaits Robbe’s reaction.

His eyes grow bigger with each passing second until Robbe beams at him and tells him how much he likes the idea. Sander lets out a loud phew, face relieved when they enter the area. The place is packed, but that’s okay because Robbe loves the vibe and how close Sander keeps walking next to him because of it. The loud music is not the best for talking, but they soon find other things to do, marching from booth to booth, getting drinks and trying out silly games, the teasing competitiveness quickly coming out. Sander really wants to win a plushie for him, but he fails spectacularly, his sulking remedied only by a kiss on his cheek. 

Robbe eats his weight in cotton candy, childlike joy on his face while Sander watches amused and keeps calling him cute. The Ferris Wheel was supposed to be their next stop, but when it turns out it's out of service, Sander shoots him a desperate look, apologizing for this lame outcome like it's his fault. But Robbe is having so much fun he barely cares they lost their chance at a kiss on the top, knows the night's still young and they'll get their chance somewhere else.

They try out a few other things, laughing and having a great time together before Sander gets weirdly quiet.

"Do you, um, do you think we can go sit down for a bit? To talk?" Sander keeps avoiding his eyes as he asks, but Robbe doesn't miss the flicker of vulnerability in his face, and he feels his heart jump in his chest. He's a bit taken aback at this gear change, but Sander's clearly bothered with something and he wants to be there for him so he just hums and follows him to the bench outside.

"There's something you need to know."

Robbe steals himself for the worst, muscles tensing as he holds his breath.

“I’m bipolar,” Sander finally blurts out, and Robbe’s heart breaks for the insecurity in his eyes, eyes that are now darting all over his own face, trying to be furtive, yet clearly assessing his reaction. “I just-, I want to be straight with you from the get go cause I feel like this may be going somewhere and I don’t want to lie, or, omit anything.” He pauses, frowning a little as he looks down, and something awfully similar to a broken heart shadows his features. “I don’t ever want to keep it a secret anymore.”

Robbe doesn’t say anything, waiting for him to continue, but Sander misinterprets the silence.

“It’s, um, it’s okay if you don’t wanna get involved with me now or something, I get it, I’m a lot to handle.” Scratching his head awkwardly, his lips morph into a wistful smile, and Robbe knows he needs to put a stop to these thoughts.

“Hey,” he starts softly, waiting until Sander’s ready to direct his eyes back on him. When he does, he shoots a smile at him of his own, but there’s nothing wistful about it. If it matches what he feels, Robbe’s quite sure it’s close to adoration, actually. “Thank you for telling me.” Sander takes a deep breath, sitting straight as if he’s preparing for a rejection. “My mom has schizophrenia, you know?”

Green eyes blink up at him. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Robbe lets his smile widen. “And she’s an amazing mom. She just-, struggles sometimes, and there are days that are really shit days. But I can’t imagine her not being here. Because she’s amazing. And I love her. With or without a mental illness.” He presses his thigh against Sander’s, trying to ease his nervousness as he continues. “I still want to give us a shot. Cause, um, I think that, um, well, you’re really hot, I mean cool, I meant cool, well...” Why does he have to be so awkward? He peaks at Sander after his unfortunate little slip and feels his cheeks flush under his small grin. 

“You think I’m hot?”

Robbe whines in protest because now Sander’s just being a little shit, torturing him even though he knows exactly what his stammering means. 

He hides his face in his hands. “Obviously, since I’m on a date with you, smartass.” 

“It’s always nice to hear.” Sander nudges their shoulders and it makes Robbe look up, just in time for a wink. “Especially from a cutie like you.” He holds his gaze, a small smile playing on his lips, and as Robbe gets drowned in his green eyes, distracted, Sander lifts his hand to push a few locks away from his forehead. The brief contact of his fingertips with Robbe’s skin is enough to raise goosebumps on his skin, and he really hopes Sander didn’t notice, that he doesn’t know how gone he is for him already.

He already mourns the lack of contact when Sander pulls away, something akin to shyness on his face now as he’s fiddling with his fingers, and it’s comforting to see he’s not the only one around here being affected.

It’s what gives him the guts to do what he does next, without second-guessing himself again into a spiral. He gets up off the bench and takes Sander’s hand in his own, their fingers tangling right away like it’s their second nature, and nods in the direction of the sidewalk.

“Come on, I’ll show you my favorite spot around here.”

The initial surprise at Robbe’s bold move is quickly replaced with a beaming smile as Sander squeezes his hand gently and gets up too, laughing when Robbe bumps their shoulders teasingly because hey, he’s still a teenage boy and sometimes likes to act like it. Also, he needs to do something to distract himself from the fact that he’s holding Sander’s hand. The fact he can feel a thumb softly grazing his knuckles, almost absent-mindedly, does not help. He'd think their playfulness and cheek kisses would make it all easier for him, and yet here he is.

He’s feeling carefree and drunk on his feelings and this evening and Sander’s smile and when they get close to the spot, Robbe sets his hand free and jogs over to the small ice cream booth, turning around to do a small “taa-daa!” with a big grin. Sander’s laugh at his shenanigans is music to his ears and he loves how the previous frown is now officially gone from his face, features softening instead, eyes twinkling as he calls Robbe a dork, entwining their hands anew the second he’s in his close proximity. Robbe scoots even closer, like an invisible magnet is pulling them together, getting lost in his presence, the smell of his aftershave that carries notes of citrus and something woodsy, masculine, combined with the intoxicating scent of Sander’s leather jacket. The air changes around them, gets charged with tension, Sander’s face changes too, green eyes darting to Robbe’s lips that get dry under attention, and he licks them subconsciously. Just when Tiana Major9’s voice coming from the booth speaker sings when they collide, it’s a beautiful disaster, their faces tilt towards each other, Sander’s hand reaching up as if to cup Robbe’s cheek.

Robbe barely contains his whine when a loud crash from the booth ruins the moment, catching the same frustration on Sander’s face in the corner of his eye. The loaded silence is buzzing in his ears, nerves picking up and he feels awkward again, not sure whether he should just go for it or wait for a better moment. 

Sander’s chuckle brings him back from his overthinking, smiles crookedly down at him. “Come on, you gotta tell me your favorite flavor.”

His tone is light like the almost-kiss didn’t happen, but the subtle pink at the high of his cheeks gives him away. It looks like the world’s most exquisite blush, blended perfectly with the shade of his skin that has already been painted light golden with the early summer sun rays. It distracts him for a moment, his gaze stuck as his eyes wander slowly from one mole to another, lingering on his lips that are just as inviting as they were a few seconds ago, tempting Robbe to make that move, but then he feels Sander taking his hand again, this time interlacing their fingers and pulling him out of his trance.

Robbe is a vanilla guy and he can see the joke at the hip of Sander’s tongue, but thankfully, the boy refrains from the comment, the huge eyeroll he receives probably stopping him in his tracks, and he only gnaws on his lip, trying to keep the laughter in. He goes for mango, which yuck. Sander doesn’t appreciate his reaction, and they easily slip in the previous banter, ending with him smearing a bit of the ice cream on Robbe’s cheek, lips sucked in as he giggles quietly at his scandalized face.

“You’re such a fucker!” He immediately gets him back for that and they’re close to full on ice cream fight until Sander yells truce, hands protecting his face from the onslaught of Robbe’s sticky hands. Robbe smiles triumphantly at his capitulation, and goes back to licking away at what’s left of his treat.

“It kinda fits you.”

They’ve been strolling along the river for a while now, the full moon shining its light on the side of Sander’s face, making his hair look icy white.

“What?

“The mango flavor.”

Sander furrows his brows in question, waiting for an explanation. Robbe shrugs a little, eyes tracing the soft ripples on the water as he tries to find the right words.

“Mangos have a hard peel, but have a soft inside.”

“Sooo, you’re saying I’m… mushy?” Sander wrinkles his nose at his words and it’s a truly adorable sight.

“No, I’m saying you can seem, um, intimidating and unapproachable, unattainable.” His eyebrows furrow more with each adjective. “But once you get to the inside, so once someone gets to know you, you’re none of these things,” Robbe pauses, swaying their joined hands a little as he peeks at Sander’s face. “You’re nice and sweet and stuff. Even with your edgy black and white aesthetics,” he adds as the second-thought, grinning when he gets a deadpan look in return. It quickly morphs into something softer, beautifully confirming Robbe’s words.

“Okay, let’s say I’m a mango man. In that case, you’re a cutie pie,” Sander says matter-of-factly, always needing to have the last word, and Robbe can only laugh helplessly, trying not to combust under his intense glance. “Also, my black and white aesthetics are amazing, by the way.”

Robbe doesn't dare to argue with that, and he also agrees with the statement so he admits as much, making Sander very pleased. 

They walk way into late hours of the evening, huddling closer together with each passing hour in search of warmth against the coldness of the night, or at least that serves as the main excuse. Sander has him bursting in fits of giggles sharing crazy stories from his shopping assistant job and Robbe finds himself opening up about his videotaping passion, a little shy when knowing about Sander's photography skills, but the boy's eyes shine bright when Robbe mentions it, and he's so attentive and interested in everything he has to say on the topic, of the small details he geeks out about that it makes fuzzy feelings swim rampant in his stomach; it's the kind of attention he's been unknowingly yearning for, and here it is, served on a golden plate and in a package so beautiful it makes him swoon.

And he also walks him home, acting all gentlemanly and offering his jacket when the shivers shake Robbe's body a bit. What a catch.

“So, um,” Sander starts as they reach the front door of Robbe’s apartment building, his face mostly covered in shadows cast by the street lanterns. “Kiss or slap?”

The answer to the question is obvious for both of them, but Robbe can’t stop himself from teasing him a bit, scrunching up his face in a deep thought, eyebrows frowned, making Sander scoff impatiently, which is exactly the reaction he was hoping for.

Still, he needs to push him a bit more. “Hmm, I’m not sure. I should probably go with the slap for that ice cream incident.” Sander plays along, heaving a regretful sigh, before turning those pretty eyes on him, lips in a pout and hands put together in a praying motion.

“A kiss?” Bottom lip juts out and he’s just too cute for words, Robbe dropping his facade immediately, not stopping his beaming smile anymore.

He also can't fucking wait any longer.

“Okay, I gue-”

Soft lips crash into his, not letting him finish the sentence, Robbe’s clumsiness almost making him topple over, but Sander’s there to catch him, sure hands squeezing his hips and sending small shocks through his body. He rests his hand on the back of Sander’s neck, giving in to the need to bury his fingers in that messy blond hair, and he tugs, just a little, but it’s enough for Sander to sigh into his mouth and pull him closer. Robbe loves the reaction, whimpers quietly as he parts his lips just right for Sander’s tongue to slip inside, to tease at the soft skin inside of Robbe’s bottom lip. It’s all over after that, the kiss morphing from something soft and sweet to tongues sliding together, teeth clinking almost painfully in their desperation, the kiss tasting of mango ice cream and cotton candy, and it’s the best Robbe has ever tasted.

It’s better than he imagined, Sander’s hands caressing his sides as he slows down the kiss so sweet and tender, it pulls at every single one of his heartstrings. He can’t believe he has this wonder of a boy in his arms, kissing him so good, making him dizzy.

The kiss stops eventually, but they stay put, as close as before, the tips of their noses grazing against each other, warm breaths and fluttering lashes, fingernails scratching at the skin that’s covered in goosebumps.

“I have to go,” Robbe murmurs between the miniscule space between them, giggling quietly at the immediate frown his words cause.

“Nooooo.” Sander hides his face in his flushed neck, pressing a kiss there too because why not. “I need more kisses.”

And who is Robbe to tell him no, he goes willingly when Sander lifts his chin up for another one, his mouth a little puffy now. He lets him have it, not that it’s any hardship; he’d stay here all night, just lazily sliding their lips together in a never ending dance.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Sander asks when they break apart. “I’d like to introduce you to someone.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. You know, he’s very important to me, has been in my life for years so his opinion kinda matters a lot.”

His words take Robbe aback, but he tries not to show his discomfort, even though Sander must have felt how tense his body went. He doesn’t seem to find it weird, his face still smiling as he keeps talking about this he that’s apparently so important.

“I hope he’ll like you. He’s perfect, you know?” Actually, Robbe does not know and he’s getting kinda annoyed. He’s pretty sure waxing lyrical about someone else on a date is a faux pas. “I mean, except for leaving fur on anything he touches.”

What.

Robbe’s eyes swivel up to look at him, the corners of Sander’s lips twitching and his face a picture perfect of impishness. He groans in protest, smacking his chest because Sander did it on purpose to pull a reaction out of him and it’s not fair, damn it. He crosses his arms which proves difficult to do when there are still hands firmly holding his hips, keeping him close.

Sander rests their forehead together, swaying them a little to put a smile on Robbe’s grumpy face. “He’s a Norwegian Forest breed and his name is Major Tom.”

And this time it’s Robbe who has a hard time to keep his giggle in because oh my god, what a nerd.

“I wonder where that came from,” he ponders in a voice as serious as he can manage, but Sander sees right through him, pointing an accusing finger at him.

“It’s the bestest name ever, I’ll have you know.”

He gets shut up with another kiss, last one, the sweetest out of all of them. Then, Robbe steps out of his embrace, not trusting himself to end this when Sander's hands are touching any part of his body, and tells him a quiet goodnight, backing into the front door with Sander's soft sleep well ringing in his ears and a huge smile threatening to spread on his face.

Sander: May your dreams be filled with cotton candy 🍬🍭

It only takes a minute for his phone to ping.

And maybe some mangos too 🥭

Robbe: Just need one 😘

White-haired mangos 😘

Goodnight ❤️

[flowerbeom]

Go For Broke | 02

Im Jaebeom x Older Female!Reader

Genre: Fuckboy!AU, Aspiring Songwriter!AU, Slow Burn, Angst/Humour/Smut (loads)

Warnings: Incredibly mature themes, Asshole Jaebeom (because he’s a real asshole in this), Swearing, Explicit smut scenes.

Word Count: 5.3k

Concept: Premier fuckboy Im Jaebeom is used to getting his way.  Though, he wants more, he craves more. He wants his music to be heard, he wants his music to be loved. So when he learns that the attractive woman he buys records from has an connection that’ll get him into the industry, he uses every trick in his book to get in.  Seduction is his game, and he plays to win.

A/N: Enjoy.  All GIF credits for this series go to @defsenses.

→  Mood Board →  Series Index        - Links to the Spotify Playlists are available in Series Index

Your eyes scanned down the column of the excel spreadsheet on the screen, lips screwing into your cheek at the numbers displayed. Standing slightly to lift your foot onto the chair, you pulled your knee into your chest before leaning back. 

“Yo, when the hell did Arctic Monkeys get popular again?” Yelling into the back of the store, you watched the empty void behind the stockroom door for movement. You heard a few rips of plastic and a whack of the microwave door shutting; your eyes rolled at the sound. 

“Hmmm, why?” Mark appeared, filling the empty void to lean a shoulder into the door-frame, pushing up the sleeves of his way-too-big-for-him hoodie. 

“They’re my highest selling artist this week. After that it’s David Bowie, but I can understand David Bowie cause he’s…” 

“Classic.” Mark interjected.

“Classic, yes. But Arctic Monkeys? And AM no less.” The 2013 seminal album proved the most popular purchase on your weekly report, and it confused you to no end. You turned to better hear Mark’s potential explanation, but he had disappeared into the void once again; returning a few breaths later with a reheated burrito in hand. Your jaw slacked open as you watched him proceed to inhale half of said burrito in one bite; eyebrows only furrowing when you couldn’t make out what he tried to mumble through a mouthful of brown rice and guacamole. 

“Come again?” Mark swallowed loudly with a grunt and wiped his mouth with the back of his forearm. 

‘Peaky Blinders.” You paused, eyes lifting in realisation and returned the nod Mark gave you once he saw it all click in your head. Lifting the pen you were twirling into the air, you puffed out your chest with your inhale. 

“There is God.” 

“And there is the Peaky Blinders.” Mark returned, burrito held high in salute. A moment of shared shame hung between you, you knew you’d never be forgiven for butchering the Cockney accent. Though your attention was stolen by the person strolling into your store. 

“Good show.” There was an air of arrogance in Jaebeom’s voice that irked you, but you found yourself smirking instead. Pushing your pen into the messy bun tied high on your head, you shifted in your seat - tilting your head in defiance when Jaebeom smirked back.

“Day off?” Jaebeom nodded, sliding off his cap to push his hair back and away off his face and you caught the tick in his jaw as he did. You tongued your one of your canines, hoping you had stitched up that part of you that had snapped well enough to endure that moment and exhaled sharply when Jaebeom caught your eyes after placing his cap back on. Straightening his watch under the cuff of his hoodie, Jaebeom’s tongue found his own canine - his shoulders shifting to sit at their broadest. 

Mark coughed from where he stood; coughed or choked, you weren’t too sure - but it broke the narrowed stare you and Jaebeom were exchanging. Angling your chin towards the stockroom door, you waited for Mark to swallow the last of his burrito before holding out your hand to him.

“Mark, Kid.” Then sweeping your hand over to Jaebeom.

“Kid, Mark.” 

“Oh, you’re the Kid.” The way Jaebeom’s expression made his eyes slit with irritation made it hard to suppress the urge to laugh; especially with the smile Mark had plastered on his face. Jaebeom held out his hand, Mark eagerly reached to meet it; shaking once on contact then once again out of respect. 

“Jaebeom.” He pressed. “Nice to meet you.” Mark winked, wordlessly gesturing that it was indeed, nice to meet him too. 

“After some records, Jaebeom? Y/N here has the best selection.” Mark chimed, scrunching up his burrito wrapper and taking up a perfect Kobe stance to free-throw it into the bin behind you. Mark pumped a fist when it made it in and you raised a congratulatory eyebrow. 

“That, among other things.” Jaebeom’s voice dipped into the territory belonging solely to seduction and let his eyes float across his bottom lashes as they stayed locked on yours when he stepped into the Hip-Hop section. You held his stare while he fingered through records while doing your best not to show how tightly your jaw was viced shut. 

“And by other things,..” Yours and Jaebeom’s eyes both shifted to Mark. “You mean you’re keen on taking her out for a drink? Maybe show her a good time? Cure her of her loneliness.” 

Jaebeom’s eyebrow cocked devilishly, eyes not lowering as he pulled out a record from the stack. Mark on the other hand, could feel your pupils branding him with a marker for impending death; contempt practically seeping out of your pores. 

“Come on, Y/N. Admit you’re lonely. You crave my daily visits.” Mark crossed to the counter, digging a single knuckle into your arm. 

“No, you just crave my Nespresso.” Standing abruptly to flick Mark in the ear, he swatted away your hand, just for his other hand to yank the pen out of your hair; you could feel your ears stinging as he sniggered.

Spinning on his heel, Jaebeom suppressed the need to laugh by pulling out another record from the Alternative section. Jaebeom scooped his selection under his arm and met you at the counter, gingerly placing the records into your outstretched hands. 

“So what do you say?” Tone still bobbing on the surface of seduction.

“On these?” Musing over his choices. “Grandmaster Flash, Son Lux, L’Orange. Interesting choices as usual.” Scanning each bar-code without ever meeting his stare. 

“No, on a drink.” Persistent. 

“A drink?” Ringing up the total, you slid Jaebeom’s card out of his fingers - finding no protest from him. 

“Yes, a drink. With me.” Tapping his card against the EFTPOS machine, you finally looked him in the eye once the transaction went through; subconsciously signalling that if he wanted your attention, he’d have to pay for it - in one way or another.

“Why don’t you message me when you want to take me out, and I’ll see if I’m free.” Handing him his records, you let your finger drag across his as he pulled them from your hands; you relished in the minute flicker of his lashes - in the tiny part of him you had somehow disarmed. 

Tucking the records under his arm, Jaebeom swallowed. “I’d love to, but you need to give me your number first.” 

“What? You don’t already have it?” Feigning disappointment with a hand pressed against your heart. “Well that’s just too bad.” 

Jaebeom inhaled sharply through flared nostrils as you licked your smirking lips. Steadying to rebuke, Jaebeom halted when Mark pushed off the counter to the sound of 503 horsepower pulling up to the curb outside. 

Jaebeom’s head whipped around, his potential meal ticket sitting in the driver’s seat as he did a few days prior, Rolex glittering through the tinted window and Jaebeom involuntarily stepped to the door like a greedy moth to a fluorescent bug trap. The driver looked out through the passenger window, not at Jaebeom, but behind him, at you. 

“Gonna come out and say hi?” Mark asked as he slid past Jaebeom. 

“I see enough of him at home, he’ll survive if I don’t grant him pleasantries this one time.” Mark shrugged, but nodded anyway and the driver pulled back his head from the angle it had been and looked over the steering wheel instead. Tapping the back of his hand against Jaebeom’s forearm, Mark gestured he should leave with a cock of his jaw. 

“Her bite is worse than her bark, you should leave now while she’s still smiling.” Jaebeom angled his chin over his shoulder to catch you smiling with only one side of your face, hand lifted no higher than your shoulder - fingers wiggling their goodbye. 

You watched him slink away, records under one arm; his other hand sliding into his jeans pocket after shaking Mark’s. You watched Mark slide into the Vantage, grinning a little too much but you shook it off. You could tell Jaebeom was watching the Aston Martin as it sped away. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was slurping up the drool that had pooled under his tongue; all boys were the same when it came to cars like that. Who you were you kidding? All boys were the same regardless. Yes, all boys. 

Jaebeom finally breathed easy after twenty minutes of trying to shake off the girl he was dancing with after he determined she was a little nuts; no matter how hypnotising her ass was. Though nuts was a bit of a stretch, he just didn’t like the way she moaned whenever he grinded into her. Bit much, he thought; she didn’t have to try so hard, he still would have fucked her if she kept her mouth shut. But alas, he had lost his appetite. 

Claiming he’d wait by the bar when she said she needed to go to the bathroom, Jaebeom counted the seconds it took for her ass to disappear down the dark corridor before he snapped around and through the back door. 

To him, 1-AM always felt the same. Like how the air feels suspended just before it rains, but you feel weightless instead of suffocated. And that’s what he wanted, standing in the alley behind the club; and he had it for a moment before Bambam’s shrill laughter invaded his senses. Dropping his head from his gaze at the moon, Jaebeom turned to see Jackson and Bambam a few meters away, passing a cigar back and forth. Taking a pull then holding it in his mouth for a second, Jackson blew the thin column of smoke through his lips before handing it to Bambam.

“Cubans, they know their stuff.” Bambam repeated the motion, rocking back on his heels before shivering, the 1-something-AM air a little too cold for his liking. Jaebeom cocked his head when he heard another voice. 

Further down, concealed in shadow, Jaebeom made out Jinyoung’s form; pacing between a brick wall and a dumpster. He took two steps towards him, then paused when he heard the ache in Jinyoung’s voice. 

“What’s it to you what I do tonight? It’s not like you’re here to stop me.” Passing headlights lit the pain etched between Jinyoung’s brows before darkness hid it from view again, Jaebeom somehow felt it hammer against his chest. 

“I’m going to do whatever the fuck I want, since that’s all you ever do anyway.” Jaebeom knew who Jinyoung was arguing with on the phone, though he never told him he did. 

“Why don’t you call me when you’ve made up your mind.” Jinyoung couldn’t hang up fast enough, his thumb slamming against the screen before clawing his phone into a fist. Jaebeom took another step when it looked like Jinyoung was going to smash his phone into the ground, but eased back when Jinyoung’s shoulders dropped - his hand shoving his phone into his pocket. 

“Hey, Nyeong!” Jackson heckled, completely unaware of the fight Jinyoung just dragged himself through. Jinyoung approached at a languid pace, catching Jaebeom’s glance but unable to read it. 

“What’s eating you Gilbert Grape? You look like you need a fuck.” Bambam coughed through his exhale, the Cuban hit catching on his tonsils - Jinyoung merely grizzled. 

“There’s a gorgeous brunette at the bar. She’s down about five vodka raspberries. I’ll warm her up for you if you want.” Jackson’s teasing slithered through a slanted grin; Bambam coughed through another exhale, smoke sputtering out through his chuckling lips. Jaebeom saw Jinyoung’s eyes narrow in rage, so he lifted a hand onto his shoulder; Jinyoung’s anger smothered under the weight of it. 

“How about a drink? I could definitely use one. This one’s on me.” Said only to Jinyoung but loud enough for Jackson and Bambam to feel ignored. Jaebeom led Jinyoung back into the club - the music blasting through the open door to dissipate the thick tension that had clung to the night air. 

“Hyung it’s alright, I-..I don’t want, I might just go..” Jinyoung stuttered, weaving through the crowd behind Jaebeom. Jaebeom didn’t want to turn around, afraid his resolve would break and Jinyoung would see the worry behind his eyes. Though, through a heavy breath, Jaebeom steeled himself; turning to square Jinyoung.

“One drink?” Jinyoung shook his head.

Jaebeom stood stoically where Jinyoung left him, watching as he left the club. Eyes following his friend pass the bouncer on his way out, Jaebeom almost turned away but froze as he caught sight of someone else slipping past the line and straight into the club. 

Jaebeom clenched his jaw as he watched you place a kiss on the bouncer’s cheek and smile as you slipped out of his embrace; he swore he could hear you giggle when the bouncer, his bouncer, tried to snatch at your hand. His eyes slit suspiciously to better see you glide through the crowd; stopping every so often to greet regular attendees and staff alike. His mind was racing. If you could get in with only a smile and swat at the owner’s hand as it tried to place itself a little too low on your back, why had he never seen you before? Why did it seem that his club, was yours? All yours. 

Jaebeom crammed his hands into his jeans pockets; eyes still fixed on your figure at it strolled towards the DJ booth. The crowd seemed to part for you - faces beaming when you approached and mouths gaping when you passed by. Jaebeom was enthralled. Confused, but captivated by the scene unfolding before him all the same. 

You bounced up into the DJ booth, the skirt you wore riding up your thigh as you cleared the height. Jaebeom felt the driest swallow crawl down his throat. Again, he was thrown as his DJ threw his arms around you, greeting you like an old friend he hadn’t seen in years. Your expression mirrored his happiness, hands staying put on his shoulders as you spoke to him over the music. Jaebeom’s jaw was ticking, cheek flaring as he stared. 

Watching you drop a hand into your bag, Jaebeom saw you pull a few records out to hand them to the DJ - his headphones falling off and onto his shoulders as he bounced with glee. You were pulled into another embrace before pulling back to say what looked like a few stern, yet lighthearted words to the DJ. And he nodded, agreeing with whatever you had ordered him to do and Jaebeom was floored. 

Shifting his weight onto one foot, Jaebeom leant against the pillar beside him. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. He continued to stare as you jumped down for the booth and like the Red Sea, the crowd parted for you again, making way for you to approach the bar. Jaebeom’s seething curiosity flared, tongue clicking against his teeth when he watched the bartender, his bartender, place a drink on the counter even before you got there. 

Your smile was tender, almost loving when the bartender refused to accept the twenty dollar note you held out to him - merely fanning your hand away and pushing the carefully prepared drink closer towards you. You accepted, not much to Jaebeom’s surprise, and drank the drink in one tip of your chin. 

Another dry swallow scratched down Jaebeom’s throat when he saw you plant your hands on the counter to hurl yourself up - leaning over the marble to place a kiss on the bartender’s cheek. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t get excited at the sight of the underside of your ass, your skirt doing you absolutely no favors. But he was stuck trying to compute the entirety of your presence in his club. 

He was still calculating who you could be to all these people, all his people, when he watched you leave as slyly as you entered. Gliding through the crowd and letting the bouncer give you the hug he wanted to give you moments before, you left a lipstick stain on his cheek before you slipped through the exit - the only trace you left before you disappeared into the night. 

Jaebeom didn’t hear Jackson ask him what the fuck he was doing just standing there. He didn’t feel Bambam whack his shoulder as he walked past, or hear him yell at him about the girl that was checking him out. Jaebeom was fiddling with the piece of paper in his pocket. The piece of paper Mark slipped into his hand when he shook it outside your store. 

Pulling it out, Jaebeom read the scratchy handwriting under the dim red light he stood beneath. 

      Good luck, Kid.        +092 6683 9845

One hand sunk itself into the pocket of your denim jacket while the other tapped the back of your phone against your cheek. Head tilted to one side, you watched, bemused, as Mark stood hunched over, staring with wandering eyes at your key-less lock. He slid open the cover and watched the numpad illuminate and as if a switch flipped off in his mind, he slid the cover back down. Fanned fingertips pressed into your door, his whole body leaning forward in hopes the door would swing open - and when it didn’t, his hand fell limp by his side. 

You watched, amused now, as he repeated himself - slid open the cover, gazed as the numpad lit up and slowly dimmed and then pulled down the cover; fingertips replaced with his forehead trying to push open the door. It was time to end his suffering, you thought, despite knowing full well you could watch him struggle until he passed out. 

“You alright there, bud?” You tried not to let your question sound condescending but with the way Mark simply swiveled his head to follow the sound all without lifting his forehead from the door made it impossible to smother the squeak that escaped you. 

“Y/N! Hey! I brought Thai food!” The fact that it was two in the morning did not escape you. The fact that Mark was three steps away from blind drunk did not escape you. And the fact that Mark still had his forehead pressed to your door while holding up the bag of take out for your inspection certainly did not escape you. But that was not the first time you had seen him, white girl wasted, trying to enter your apartment at some ungodly hour. You also knew, it would not be the last. 

Curling your hands around his shoulders to pull him back, Mark dropped his head onto your shoulder; the unmistakable waft of Patreon XO Cafe spilled out of his mouth, and apparently down his shirt too upon a cursory glance. Probably when he was still six steps away from blind drunk. 

“You gotta put the code in, stupid. You remember the code right?” Trying to balance his swaying head on your shoulder, you pinched his nose to focus his attention. Mark whined, but found his own balance; standing erect and holding out a finger to the numpad. 

“The code, right..” Elongating a single syllable word into ten. “That’s what I forgot.” 

You patted the top of his head. A slight stretch, despite the heeled boots you had on. Mark was tall. Real tall. 

You watched his pupils dilate, laser like focus; and you screamed the code in your mind, hoping he’d telepathically hear you. 

Four

“Four…” 

Nine nine zero.

“Nine. Nine. Zee-roh.” Oh he’s doing so well. 

But then he stalled; tongue poking into the corner of his mouth - searching for the last two digits. 

Four Zero. 

But he continued to stall, finger quivering above the numpad.

Four Zero!

Nothing. Your mind link with him had severed. So you took his hand in yours and keyed the rest of the code with your free one. Mark giggled deep in his throat, letting you push him through the open door and into your apartment. You watched him toe off each one of his shoes, one sock deciding it wanted to remain sheathed and clung to the inside of his shoe. Mark, valiant as ever, fought against the resistance, claiming back his sock and strolled victorious to the couch; one foot fully socked, the other holding onto it’s sock cover by his toes alone. 

You muffled your laughter with bit lips and puffed cheeks, unzipping each of your boots to place them down beside Mark’s discarded sneakers. 

“Tell me you went to Fresh Chilli.” Slinking one arm after the other out of your jacket. 

“Of course I did. What do you think I am? A savage?” Mark plopped down onto your couch then carefully placed the plastic bag on your coffee table. He began to undo the knot in the bag, lips pursing as he pulled it apart with wobbly fingers. 

“Red duck curry?” Mark nodded, pulling the first container out. 

“Rolled omelette?” Mark nodded again, placing the second container next to the first. 

“Coconut rice?” Mark began to whistle, liken to the sound of a missile about to collide with earth, he revealed the last container, dropping it onto the table along with a comical explosion blowing open his mouth. 

“You cool to get spoons? I’m gonna get changed.” Mark took his cue, rising from the suede cushions and marched towards the kitchen drawers. A man on a mission. 

Despite his completely inebriated state, you trusted him to navigate your kitchen with ease. You were roommates in college, and despite moving to the other side of the city, the layout of your apartment remained practically identical. Urban living at its finest. 

“Where’s Eric?” Hollering from the inside of the sweater you were still pulling over your head. There was a delay in Mark’s response. Either because he was still figuring out how to answer your question, or because he had two mouthfuls of coconut rice and curry in his mouth. 

“Probably still at work.” Every syllable muffled. Definitely three mouthfuls of coconut rice and curry. 

Leaving your bedroom and sitting on the floor across from him, you picked up your spoon; tapping his away when it dove for the only lychee your favourite Thai restaurant ever put in the Red Duck Curry. A little nugget of sweet succulent semi translucent goodness. 

“I messaged him and he said he has to meet with the A&R team. Something about a rookie group’s debut coming up.” You nodded while spooning a heaped pile of rice and omelette into your mouth. 

You swore you were beginning to fade into a curry induced nirvana when Mark groaned. Your eyes shot up, widening as Mark angrily shoved half-ladened spoonfuls into his mouth; the metal clang it made as it hit his teeth on entry and exit made you cringe. 

“People suck.” Breaking the silence between chews. 

“Okay?” You uncurled one of you legs to lean an elbow into the bent knee.

“If someone messages you, you should, out of courtesy, message back!” Slamming his spoon onto the table, rogue grains of rice bouncing into the air. 

“Well you said Eric’s with the A&R team, he’s probably stuck discussing some important shit.” Answering nonchalantly, picking up rice grains with your fingernails. 

“And if you tell them you love them, they should, out of courtesy, answer back even more!” Mark’s hands were flinging around his body, explosive expression of emotions. 

“I’m sure Eric knows you love him, as weird as that may be.. ” Nonplussed in your response, though Mark only withered into himself; flopping dramatically onto the couch; legs curling into his chest. Mark’s favourite position to wallow; fetal. 

You rolled onto your knees, every intention to crawl to him and stroke his hair affectionately. Patronisingly, but affectionately. But the rattle your phone made on the coffee table halted you from displaying sympathy. 

A message from an unknown number piqued your curiosity; though unknown numbers at 3-AM granted you more apprehension than interest.

       03:09am        +010 4522 2858        Weren’t you a vision walking into CREAM like that.          But, next time don’t run off so soon.        I’ll be happy to keep you company. 

You scrabbled on hands and knees to Mark as if possessed, smacking the side of his head instead of lovingly stroking it like previously planned. 

“What the fuck did you do?!” Enraged. Mark cupped his ear, mewling through his pout. Puppy dog eyes welling with tears on full display. 

“What?!” Thrusting your phone into his face, your arm shook as Mark blinked to focus. He read the message. A few times over and once a moment of stillness had passed, clapped a hand onto his mouth and exploded in laughter. 

“Fuck, the Kid has balls after all!” You smacked him again, Mark shooting up to scurry to the other end of the couch. You were quick to your feet, lunging onto the couch though Mark caught your wrists to save himself another beating. 

“Hey, hey, HEY! Stop, calm the fuck down woman, fuck.. Fuck, stop!” Mark growled, his tenor vibrating down your spine and you rocked back. Sitting on your feet, you breathed in a few steadying breaths and once Mark was almost sure you weren’t going to hit him, released your wrists. 

“So you gave him my number?” Voice steady, body shaking. 

“Yes.” 

“To the poster boy of all Fuckboys?” Voice still steady, but eyes twitching.

“He’s not a Fuckboy, probably...” Mark insisted, but with the way his face contorted proved he didn’t completely believe himself. 

“Mark, it’s three-am. Who the fuck sends a text like that at three-am if you haven’t got your dick on permanent slut-scan?!” Mark flinched when you threw your hands into the air, exasperated to say the least.

“Okay okay, good point. But what’s done is done.” Mark clapped his hands together, a finishing move of sorts.

“Why the fuck did you do it?” Your voice cracked, body close to boiling point. 

“Cause you need to get fucked.” Your body suddenly calmed, as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water over you and doused your flaming rage. You blinked heavily, Mark’s eyes starting to show sober thought. 

“Excuse me?” Quieter than before, meek even, would be a good way to describe your tone. 

“When was the last time you got laid?” Your mouth opened and closed like a loose screen door caught swinging back and forth in a tornado.  

“Like ten months ago? Like not since that rapper from Sydney broke your poor little heart?” Mark jutted out his chin, eyebrows raised awaiting your answer. And when you gave none, Mark shifted to cross one leg over the other and dropped an arm behind the back of the couch. 

“Listen.” In that holier than thou tone you hated so much, but you were still struck dumb and Mark knew it.

“The Kid is practically begging to take you out. And from the look of the thighs on that boy, could be a good lay. Perhaps a great lay.” Rage started to simmer within you again, your cocked jaw and narrowed eyes giving it away. 

“Don’t even get me started on those shoulders. He’s like a walking proverbial Schrodinger’s fuck ready for the taking.” Mark’s chest popped as he sneered, and you clenched a fist reactively, but kept it glued in your lap. 

“So why don’t you..” Mark edged forward.

“Drop the ego..” Knocked a knuckle against your chin to straighten it. 

“Uncross your legs..” Dragged his thumb down your bottom lip to pop your lips apart.

“And let the Kid show you a good time.” Waggling one brow to better accentuate his suggestion. You wanted to right hook the smug look off his face. 

“Come on, tell me he isn’t the perfect guy for some harmless, casual, no strings attached fun! Good old fashioned hit it and quit it.” 

Silence fell between you. Though after a pregnant pause of weakly angered contemplation, Mark saw the break in your resolve and unhooked his arm from the couch and leaned over you; grabbing your phone from where it fell when you wailed on him. Holding it out to you, Mark tampered down his smirk as he tapped his thumb on the screen to wake it. 

“Harmless, casual, no strings attached fun, you say?” Tone skeptical but you couldn’t deny the lurid curiosity simmering deep within you. Mark nodded and tapped a patient finger against your phone one more time. 

“Go on. Open the box.”

Jaebeom yanked at the fistful of hair in his hand, the chin of the poor girl he ghosted hours before digging into his kitchen counter. If you asked him why he hunted her down after unceremoniously ditching her, he’d tell you with Hail Mary conviction that her ass was actually far too hypnotising to pass up. He in no way, would admit that he was irrationally angry; broiling from the inside out. 

He in no way, would admit that watching you prowl through his domain like some rogue Alpha turned him on as much as it irritated him. He’d never admit that he swallowed down his delicate sensibilities to message you, because of course, he had none. He would absolutely never tell you that after an hour of hoping, maybe two of waiting for you to message him back, had left him irate enough to peel the chick he found displeasing off Jackson just so he could claim her, so he could claim something. 

So if you asked him to deny that he was rage-fucking some poor girl because he felt threatened by your complete indirect display of power, he would. He would tell you through gritted teeth and a smile that didn’t reach his eyes that seeing you tonight meant nothing and that in the end, that chick’s ass was indeed far too hypnotising to pass up. And he was going to prove it by hammering his hips into her as hard as he could while keeping her bent over his kitchen counter.

No, he didn’t learn her name. No, he didn’t listen when she told him. No, he didn’t care. He probably wasn’t even paying attention; every rut senseless, every deep drive into her dripping cunt, indifferent. He couldn’t hear her moan, he couldn’t hear his name spill out through her lips; drool pooling under her cheek onto his fake stone bench top. All he could see was you and your charming smile and vexing demeanor and the marvelous glance of your ass that he drank up. 

You’d be tempted to ask him if he was imagining you bent over for him, taking his dick like a champion and filling his apartment with erotic noises. You’d be tempted to ask him if he was rearranging the poor bottle blonde’s insides to regain dominance that you didn’t even know you had taken. You’d be tempted to ask him if he enjoyed the thought of doing just that. On the surface it’d be a flat no; but deep down, it’d be a hard yes. 

Jaebeom was getting closer to climax, and god was he happy about it. The sooner he could get what’s-her-name out of his apartment, the sooner he’d be able to actually deal with his emotions. If, of course, he even knew how to do that. But as release sprinted towards him, it was stripped away just as quickly when his phone blared harsh white light into the darkness of his apartment; your name flashing bold on the screen. 

Jaebeom picked up the phone off the counter, not even pausing stroke to read the message. If anything, he snapped his hips harder into her; every thrust punctuated with a Kahlua scented moan. Jaebeom found euphoria as he read the last word of your message; spilling out inside what’s-her-name like a conditioned puppy finding pleasure in receiving even a smidgen of your attention. 

       03:46am        Noona        Alright, Kid. And only cause you’re cute.        One drink. 

[dalamjisung]

someone to lose ✤ lee felix

word count: 2583

genre: angst, with a pinch of fluff

pairing: reader x lee felix

description: he couldn’t have you, but what if you just wanted to be lost?

You were there when he first moved in.

You hear the truck first, loudly shaking, parking, unloading. The memory starts with that, and with you, on your pretty yellow bike, dirty from the busy, fun day with your friends. Knees scrapped, smudge of mud in your cheek, and a curious glance was all it took– you had his attention first thing. His feet touched the ground, and his eyes found you. And you remember– because you are sure that you can’t ever forget– the disgusted look he threw your way. And you also remember– and this because your mom won’t let your forget– how you came home crying because you thought you were ugly. You were nine and that was kind of a big deal. Your mom hated Felix since then. 

You were there when he enrolled in your school.

It was just a couple of days later and you see him again, in a similar uniform to yours. His freckles pollute his face and you want to get lost as you count them, and you want to have to start again and get lost again. He was two grades above yours and barely spared you a glance as he paraded around with his brand new friends– another international kid and a kid that was a grade above yours and one bellow his. You learned their names that same day; Bang Chan and Kim Seungmin. They ate together at lunch and you stared at them with a dreamy look in your face, until you tripped and fell face first on the floor. Once again you came back home crying and hurt and humiliated. And one again your mother swore to protect you from the new kid in the block. 

It was a few years later, but you were there when he got his first girlfriend. 

And when he broke up with her. The whole school found out the very next day, interrogating him with questions that he clearly didn’t even know the answers yet; he was just 15, after all. It happened during lunch time– when it was decided that he broke up with her, and not the other way around; you, once again, were on your way to the football field, where you usually ate your lunch while doing the homework for the next class, and you saw him. Walking. Running. Marching… to you. He is fuming and you can feel the anger, but Felix just looks at you, then at your homework, and rolls his eyes. 

“Let me help.”

You didn’t say a thing, but you listened to every word as he explained the mathematical formulas. You aced your pop quiz the next day. But is appeared that he didn’t care. 

You were there as he grew– more.

And when he found a stray cat and took it home.

And when his mom got angry cause the cat ruined her sofa.

And when his dad returned home from a work trip in Australia. 

And when his dad went back to Australia and never came back.

And when he got beat up in the end of his Junior year in high school. 

And when he beat someone up in the beginning of his Senior year.

And basically every other moment because it is very hard to mind your own business when his window is just right across from yours. Or when he goes to your school. Or when this nagging feeling of him bothers you basically every second of the day. 

During the years that passed you had more interactions with him. Still not enough to apparently satiate your undying crush on him, but enough to actually make you crave more. They were all the same, though; something bad would happen, and you’d be the first one he’d run to because what could actually be worse than this, right now? You are sure he didn’t quite realize how hurtful that was to hear, but he laughed and the melody tone of his voice soothed the wounds away. One time it was a fight, with a new girl, boy, lover, friend– anyone– and he found you in the swings in the end of you guys’ street. He sat down as asked if you had any homework for the next day and, if so, to bring it there. Once again, you aced a quiz. Another time, it was just oppressed emotions; apparently his dad facetimed him– cause I only left your mother, Felix, not you,– and told him about the new wife that was pregnant with the new kids. So he marched to your house, politely ignoring your mothers angry glares, and asking if you had any subject you were struggling with. Enough said, your grades improved exponentially once Felix’s life got… well, complicated. He’d always come to you, study, calm down, and leave. Not talk; no heart to heart; not late night confessions. But still better than nothing. 

Safe to say, Felix’s life was at its peak– of fucked up. He had just hit the last stretch of his Senior year in high school and had to start thinking about colleges, and majors, and life, and adulthood. He didn’t want that. Not yet. He wanted high school a little longer, and he didn’t quite know why, but he does. And you? Well, you were in the final round of your Sophomore year, struggling with things that only get worse, and happy with things that probably will get worse, too. You had a friend or two, and you felt like you didn’t need more. You had the people that you love you loved you back, what else could you want? With the exception of a certain neighbor loving you back, that is. Jeongin and Jisung always said that they should be enough, and they are. But sometimes you just need an extra something that they can’t provide and that’s okay. 

It was during one of those nights– the ones that you feel incredibly alone, even though you have Jeongin clinging to your left arm as he snores in your bed, and Jisung mumbling in his sleep on your other side,– that you decide that you were done. It was time to take action yourself, cause you knew he wouldn’t. You sleep that night with sweet dreams of strawberry fields and Bowie’s songs. And Felix. Always Felix. 

You started off simple. A note. And not the lovey dove kind of note– no, you’d never!– but rather a friendly one; one that would uplift him that rainy morning because you know he needed it, because you heard his mom shouting and him crying and you weren’t about to just tell him that to his face so. A note it is. You leave it in his car during your free period, and you honestly couldn’t give two fucks if anyone saw you, cause you wanted it. You wanted Felix to know it was you. 

You are waiting in the field, sitting on your usual spot in the bleachers, with your chemistry book on the side. He finds you like that, bobbing your head to the song playing through your headset, school work set aside, lunch half eaten. 

“You need to eat,” He basically snarls as he pulled your headphones down. “Or else you won’t grow.”

There was a moment of silence before you spoke up. 

“I’m 16, Felix,” You frowned. “I haven’t been “growing” for a few years now.”

His face flushes red and he rolls his eyes. 

“Need help?”

“No, but I think you do.” You say and oh my god you did it you finally did it!

“What?” He chuckles, incredulously. “What do you mean?”

“I’m your neighbor,” You mumble, suddenly shy. “I see… and hear, a lot. And I’m not prying but I can’t really not listen when it’s loud and– well, that’s beside the point. What I mean is that I’m here to listen.”

“And who said I wanted to talk with you?”

“Me,” You shrug. “You come to me whenever something bad happens. To study, even though I am really not sure how that helps you, but let’s skip formalities. What’s happening?”

“What the…?” Felix is seizing you up and you know it. He’s done it so many times for you to recognize the sensation. “You are so weird, Y/N.”

“Meh, I’ve heard worse,” You joke and lean back.

“Who?”

“Who what?” 

“Who told you worse?” Felix asks and he is frowning. For a second, you want to tell him you. You did, with looks, and gossips, and actions. But you don’t. You just shake your head and laughs. 

“Doesn’t matter, Felix,” You say. “Talk to me.”

“What if I don’t want you?”

“Then you wouldn’t be here,” You clarify and you think that’s exactly what he needs; someone to clarify his own actions to him.

So he talks. His mom got angry because he asked if he could visit his dad and then shouting. And more shouting. And him crying and her leaving and him being alone. He hated being alone. And you nod; you nod not because you understand– you don’t,– but you nod because you hated being alone too and because you don’t want to say something and scare him away. So you silently listen to him, for ten, twenty, thirty minutes, until it’s class time again. 

This time, when you are walking to Literature and see him by the lockers, he smiles at you. Just a simple, closed-mouth grin. But it was more than enough to make you giddy for the rest of the day. You arrive home and run to tell your mom and she tries to smile, but ends up with a grimace, because oh god how she hated that boy. 

You wake up the next day and it dawns on you– you did it. You managed to talk to him like friends. Laugh like friends. Smile like friends. And it starts there; it starts with friendship. 

“Y/N!” Your mother shouts from the kitchen, hoping, for the first time in her life, that you were late and still sleeping. “Someone’s here for you.”

You come out of your room with you backpack, looking at something on your phone, when you hear his chuckle. In the morning. In your kitchen. And you are not dreaming; you even slightly pinch yourself to make sure. Felix is in your kitchen. 

“Ready?” He asks adjusting his bag on his shoulders. 

“Yeah, just… just a second.” You blush while kissing your mom goodbye and grabbing an apple. 

You guide Felix out of your house and awkwardly walks besides him. 

“Why…?” You frown, confused.

“Why not?” He laughs and grabs your apple, taking a bite, and giving it back to you. “We’re neighbors, after all. The walks to school don’t need to be lonely.”

And there it was. Once again, Felix didn’t want to be alone. And you were his choice. Last. First. Easiest. Convenient, if you must. But it was you and no once could take that away. 

You two talk about his Senior year so far and your Sophomore hell, and he laughs when you mention those stupid field trips the school took Freshman and Sophomores, and you tell him how it is basically all just an excuse to hook up with people when the teachers are asleep at night. He nods and agrees with you, earning him a slap on his shoulder and a chuckle from you. He tells you about Chan and Australia and, weirdly enough, his dad. He smiles when he mentions Australia, and a weird feeling takes over your body.  A not-so-good feeling, at that, but you simply push it away. 

For weeks, that is your routine: waking up, grabbing any kind of fruit, and walking with Felix to school. It evolved as days went by; first he started coming up to you to talk, then he started befriending your friends, and now, he even ate lunch with you. This was a dream come true and you were on cloud nine. Until college entrance exam day came by. 

Felix had been a ball of nerves and irritation because of it; barely studying and eating no more than the necessary amount to stay awake and studying. He was one of the top students of the school and no one knew where he was applying, not even you, his new rumored best friend. You would occasionally check up on him through your window, and watch him for a few minutes before sighing and minding your own business. But then you heard it all again; the shouts. This time it was worse; louder, more desperate, and then you heard it. Something breaking, shattering, maybe, and a door slamming. You count ten minutes; and then you follow. You know exactly where Felix will be and you take your time waking to the playground. He needed alone time but he also hated being alone. Funny. 

“You took long enough,” He gruff when he sees your shadow approaching and then he is on you.

You didn’t expect that; his hands on your waist, mouth on yours, bodies pressed against each other. He pushes you until your back is against the metal poles holding the swings up, and his hands explore– your waist, back, hair, until they settle; one on your neck and the other pulling the baby hairs you still had. His mouth moves way faster than you’ve ever had the power to imagine; passionate, intense, relieving. You knew what was happening, and you didn’t care. This was a hell of an upgrade from him helping you studied and you didn’t care. You didn’t care he was using you. You didn’t care that he was taking it all only to throw it out. You wanted this, in any shape, way, or form. And, unfortunately, this was yours. 

It takes a while for you two to separate. Your hands keep him close, though, and he doesn’t complain. He wouldn’t dare. 

“I’m leaving,” He winces at how harsh his voice comes out. “I’m leaving and here we are. What am I doing…?”

“I don’t care,” You shrug. “I had a feeling. That you’d be going… back. And I guess I was right?”

“How’d you know?” He mumbles, nose poking your cheek as his mouth dispersed kisses here and there. 

“You love it, Felix,” You sigh, letting your head fall to the side, basically telling him here you go. “I knew you’d be going back home.”

“This is home too,” He growls. “Home is here.”

“Meh, same difference,” You chuckle, enjoying the feeling of him. “You heart is there. It always was.”

“And where is yours?” He asks, breath hitching. You felt his heart speed up, nervousness taking over. 

You smile, in peace. “Right here,” And you let your palm fall on his chest. “With you.”

“Y/N,” He pulls back, nose touching yours. Eyes on yours. Mouths so close… “I’m leaving. I can’t have you… I can’t do that you. Or me.”

“Then lose me,” You whisper, pecking his lips. “Lose me, Felix, and let me find myself again, years later when you visit. I don’t need to be your forever, but… let me be your right now. Let me be your someone to lose.”

He nods. You see tears in his eyes and you kiss them away. You kiss the freckles in his face; the jutted lower lip; the button nose. Everything. Felix was here, now, and that’s all you needed. That’s all you’d allow yourself to need. 

-----------

hello lovelies! I’m sorry it took so long to post, I’m working on about five fics right now and this is the first one to get posted! Let me know what you think :)

[chloca-cola]

Resonance Chapter One: Only You

Follow Mickey Two-Knives through her turbulent past and present with Joel, as they learn that bigger things are at stake than their stubbornness.

TW: Angst, fear

Word Count: 2,704

~

~10 Years ago~

Mickey sat up in the old rickety bed, her hands running over the rough canvas of the mattress before looking down at Gina, her fiery red hair visible even in the dim moonlight. Mickey sighed, she hasn't been able to sleep as of late, the Scavengers have been terrorizing anyone who wasn't fully in their cult, at least that's how Mickey saw them, they had been living in this camp for so many years now, and they did their best to stay under the radar.

She and Gina were lucky enough to seem in it while also not being a part of their world, you have to do what you can to survive. It was when one of the hyper fanatics of the Scavengers suggested human sacrifice to keep the Clickers away that Mickey started to feel on edge. Could some people really be that ignorant to think something like that would work? History answered her question, naturally, with a blaring 'yes'.

Mickey touched the deep X shaped scar on her right cheek, remembering the last settlement she was in, and it left a bitter taste in her mouth. It's sad that even after nearly 10 years into an apocalypse where a plague has spread and infected nearly half of the world's population, by her calculations anyway of how North America seems now, that there are still people willing to persecute her for something as simple as over who she loves. She really shouldn't be surprised, after all, history seems to love to repeat itself.

The last settlement, when Mickey fell in love with Gina, the whole village freaked out on them. Started hurling Bible verses at them, because that's what people do when they're afraid of something they don't understand. Chant old archaic shit that they themselves don't understand or cherry pick from the Bible.

Mickey scoffed, rolling her shoulders and leaving the warmth of the bed to move to look out the window.

She leaned against the window frame, eyes studying the guards around the lit torches, shaking her head, watching the orange color from the flames casting shadows over their faces. She wishes someone would come along who would be willing to take the Scavengers out. They needed to be stopped before they actually start sacrificing people. Her stomach still turned at the thought.

Mickey may not like most people anymore, but she's not stupid. You need people to regrow.

"Mickey...what's wrong?" Gina sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, before bringing her knees up to her chest, hugging them, eyeing Mickey's face, bathed in silvery moonlight and soft glow from the torches below their house. Mickey was chewing her bottom lip, deep in her thoughts, until she finally looked at Gina and shrugged.

"Nothin' major, love. Sorry if I woke ya." Gina smiled softly at her counterpart, patting the bed next to her, and Mickey smirked, quickly going to her lovers side.

"You didn't wake me, I rolled over and found only emptiness in the bed." Gina assured her, laying down and curling up close to Mickey, where she always felt the most safe, their foreheads nearly touching. Mickey chuckled to herself, tracing her fingers along the curve of Gina's cheek, before tucking some of her red hair behind her ear.

Mickey closed the small distance between them, her lips brushing softly against Gina's, their breath mixing together before Mickey finally kissed her. Gina pressed herself against Mickey hungrily, her hand running the length of Mickey's back, as Mickey rolled them to be on top of Gina 

Mickey nibbled on her bottom lip, and Gina moaned, wrapping her legs around Mickey's waist. 

"Hey! Who the fuck are you?!" Their tender moment was ruined by the shouting of the guards close to their window. Mickey looked over at the window again, as Gina released her, and Mickey growled but jumped to her feet, moving to look out the window.

Two men she's never seen before were having a standoff with the guards, Mickey's brow quirked, who would break into this compound? She wondered to herself.

"What is it?" Gina asked, leaving the bed to join Mickey at the window, looking down upon the scene. "Oh shit!" Gina breathed out, grasping Mickey's wrist. "We have to save them!" Gina urged, pulling at Mickey's tattooed arm, and Mickey clucked her tongue, before catching her own bottom lip between her white teeth again in thought. "Mickey!" Gina whispered shouted, and Mickey shrugged her arm from her girlfriends grasp.

"Why?" Gina gaped at Mickey, had she really just heard her? She knew Mickey was more closed off now that she had been tortured for being bisexual, Gina had been too, but she tried to not let it make her cynical, you can't let the hate of a few turn you into them too.

"Mickey, they could sacrifice them." Gina stressed to her lover, tugging at her arm again. "Why can't let them start that!" Mickey sighed, warring internally with herself, before turning and following Gina out of their small house.

"Heya boys, what's all the shoutin' for?" Mickey greeted as jovially as she could muster, slapping one of the beefier guards on his forearm as he towered over her 5-foot frame, while she eyed the two newcomers, who had their hands up in a placating manner.

"These two were sneaking around our camp." Mickey's eyes narrowed, as if she was squinting through what little light was available, trying to see who they were.

"Come closer," she beckoned the men with a wave of her hand, as she turned to look at the guards. "I'm expectin' some friends of ours we met along the way here. Sent out word that there was this settlement if they needed shelter. And it's dark as shit out here tonight." Mickey lied, as the two men came towards her, she turned her head towards them and gave them both a subtle wink. "Yes! Ya guys finally made it! We weren't expecting ya until tomorrow, what didn't ya sleep?" She laughed, to anyone outside her head, you'd think she's known these men her whole life, as she playfully punched the lighter haired man on his chest. The two men did well to cover their confusion too, as they laughed as well, hugging Mickey, all carrying on like they're happy to see each other again.

"There was no time to sleep. We needed to get away from a hoard, we lost 'em and just kept movin'." The light haired one continued the lie, and Mickey turned to the guards, waving her hand back towards the newcomers. 

"I'll be talkin' responsibility for them. I'll let them stay at my house." Mickey nodded her head for the men to follow her, and they all filed back into their nearby house, with the guards grumbling something about not liking outsiders.

Once the door shut behind Mickey, she turned on the men, eyes glaring daggers at them, causing the two men to get into a defensive stance against the much shorter girl.

"Now, who the fuck are ya two?" The two men exchanged a glance.

"I'm Tommy and this is my brother, Joel." The one now dubbed Tommy answered her, his stance obviously trying to keep them looking as non threatening as possible, Mickey's hazel-green eyes scanned them both.

"Why are ya here?" She continued her questioning, and Tommy raised his hands in a gesture of peace, stepping towards Mickey.

"We are just tryin' to pass through is all." Mickey folded her arms over her chest, not buying any of their shit.

"Mickey, please calm down." Gina cooed, touching her forearm softly. "I'm Gina, and this is Mickey Two-Knives. She's my-"

"Cousin." Mickey cut her off, not trusting these men with too much information, her eyes still narrowed dangerously at them.

"Mickey Two-Knives?" Joel finally spoke, stepping closer to the girls too, and Mickey made a challenging face at him. "What kinda name is that?"

"Take another step and find out." She unfolded her arms, reaching to the table behind her where her twin 18 inch bowie knives sat in wait. Joel's eyes followed her motions and he quickly backed down, not wanting to draw any more attention to themselves than needed at the moment. "Smart choice." She praised him, and Gina scoffed.

"Don't mind her, she hasn't been sleeping." Mickey looked at Gina as if she just betrayed her, Gina had always been to trusting, giving out too much information, no matter how mundane.

"Ladies, please." Tommy interjected, placing his hands palms down in a 'take it easy' fashion, causing both ladies to stare him down.

"We don't want any trouble." Joel continued for his brother. "We just want a place to crash for a little while." Gina smiled warmly at the two before motioning for them to follow her.

"You're in luck, we do have a spare bedroom, you're welcome to it." Mickey's jaw dropped, her frustration for her girlfriends hospitality weighing on her, before she stomped along behind Joel like a petulant child.

Joel looked over his shoulder at the shorter woman, as she brushed away the blond dreads that had fallen into her face, before she crossed her arms over her chest again.

"What?" She snapped at him, glaring once more, her southern drawl heavy in her anger, and Joel just shook his head, grumbling to himself. He wasn't sure what her problem was, but he kind of wished she'd get over herself. If he and Tommy wanted to, they would have already killed them.

"Nothin', nothin' at all, Miss Two-Knives." Joel stated, condescendingly which resulted in Mickey shoving him slightly, and he turned on her quickly, and she didn't even flinch. Gina and Tommy were already in the spare room, leaving these two to glare each other down in peace.

"Ya should show me some respect, Joel." 

"Yeah, like you've been abundantly showin' me?" He countered, and she scowled at him, stepping closer to him, her head tilting back so she could keep eye contact with him.

"I haven't killed ya yet, have I?" Her gaze was unfaltering, challenging him again, as if they were going to figure out who was alpha of this newly formed faction. Joel's jaw muscles flexed and bunched as they continued their pissing match, until Gina poked her head out of the bedroom.

"Mickey…" Gina's tone was stern, the only person who was allowed to even begin to talk to Mickey in such a way. The anger ebbed in Mickey as her hazel eyes slid to Gina's soft features, before glancing back up to look onto Joel's own hazel colored eyes, giving him one last dominating look before shoulder checking him as she walked passed him.

~

"That Mickey sure is something, huh, Joel?" Tommy teased his older brother as they unloaded some of their things from their packs. Joel grunted, shooting his brother a warning glance that only cause Tommy to snicker at him. "Oh come on, I know you well enough. You like those kinda women. One that won't bow down to your shit."

"Knock it off." Joel threatened sternly, as he checked their ammo supply, trying to shake the conversation. Tommy was right of course, Joel did have a thing for challenging women, and Mickey definitely fit that criteria. "She's frustrating at best." Joel lied, and Tommy gave him a shit eating grin that Joel didn't see, before shaking his head.

"Whatever you say." Tommy conceded before flopping onto the bed, sighing tiredly. "I'm hitting the sack, you should do the same." Joel turned and watched Tommy getting comfortable, deciding that he was going to ask Gina if they had any food to spare for them.

"Hey-" Joel began, seeing a figure by the window, realizing it was Mickey and not Gina and he sighed. "Oh, it's you, nevermind." Mickey turned to look at him, her eyes vacant, lost in her thoughts again, chewing on her thumbnail absently.

"What?" She asked, before her attention went back out the window and Joel walked over to see what she was so concentrated on, leaning on his forearm against the wall.

"I was gonna ask for some food. What are you looking at?" She scoffed, rolling her eyes at him, before walking away towards the kitchen.

"Ya comin'?" Joel watched her as he pushed himself off the wall to follow along behind her.

"Not even breathin' hard." He retorted and Mickey's eyes widened slightly, before a smile spread across her face and she began to laugh.

"Ok, ya caught me off guard on that one. I still don't trust ya, though." Joel raised his hands before shrugging. 

"Wouldn't dream of wanting you to trust me." She rolled her eyes again, still smiling slightly, as she dug through her pantry.

"I'm only givin' ya this because Gina made me promise to be nice to y'all." Joel nodded, looking through the cans that Mickey laid out before him on the table, and she placed her hands on her hips. 

"You two seem close." Mickey gave him a curt nod, she knew he was trying to get her to open up, even though he's done nothing of the such in return. "Been here long?" Another quick nod, and he sighed. "Look, I don't trust you anymore than you trust me."

"Good. Ya shouldn't." Was her quick reply, and he groaned at her, picking up the cans and mumbling a thanks, before walking back towards the rooms, only to stop by the window again.

"What's the deal with this camp anyway? We heard some things the closer we got." Mickey joined him by the window, the blue haze of the sky right before the sun comes up was a beautiful backdrop of the mountain town.

"I call 'em a cult." Mickey divulged, side eyeing Joel, before pointing down at the little group gathering near the entrance of the small town. "See him, the man with the long braided black hair? That's the leader." Joel sat the cans of food down on the side table, leaning on his hands on the window seal, before he looked ag Mickey.

"He the one who gave you that scar?" Mickey quickly covered her right cheek, shaking her head.

"No, those fuckers are dead." She stated, eerily calm, as she locked her eyes with his, and he nodded understandingly. "However, some yahoo wants to start sacrificin' people because he believes that'll keep the clickers away." She continued, removing her hand and ticking her chin towards a younger man standing next to the leader. "That's him, the crazy guy who believes there's some Cordyceps god he can sacrifice people too to keep the infected away." Joel scoffed at the notion and Mickey nodded. "Yeah, I share that sentiment."

"Why not band together and take these guys out?" Mickey eyes him, her brows corrugated in concern.

"Seriously?" She asked, waving her hands about her person. "This isn't much of a life, but here we are safe. We have a roof over our head, again for the first time in years since this shit started, I don't have to worry if that sound outside my window is a runner."

"Now you just gotta worry you could be sacrificed." Joel rebutted, and Mickey glared at him, but having no response to his point because she knew he was right, after all it had been what's been keeping her awake all these nights, she just turned her attention back to the group of villagers.

"Everyone here except us is under their spell. They torture the ones who aren't. We just smile and nod to keep ourselves hidden."

"Well...we could help you out." Mickey's lips parted slightly in shock, turning her face back to Joel, the gears obviously turning in her head. Why would they wanna help us? They just met us. What's in it for them? What's their angle? Were all the thoughts winding their way through her brain. 

"Why? What's in this for ya?" She snapped very defensively, that trademark scowl back on her face, and Joel sighed, hanging his head, shaking it ruefully.

"Nevermind. Fix it yourselves then." Joel picked up the food and walked away, leaving Mickey alone with her thoughts.

[lucidpantone]

Chapter 3: Visitations

Someone recently asked the tag if Sander and Robbe stayed together forever. 

Here’s a fic exploring the journey to get to that answer.

This fic takes place in two simultaneously timelines: the past and the present.

Italics is the Past. If not, it's August 15th at any point in the day I chose to drop you into.

Large line breaks are a new memory.

Read the rest on Ao3.

87  

89  

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91

The concrete stairs are overwhelming.

Sander thought to himself as he ascended them coming to a full stop outside Robbe’s apartment  door. His reflection looking back at him. The residue of sundown’s volcanic incandescence was high in the sky creating a mirrored effect on the building. It was one of those ghastly mid century modern blocks that was lathered in a matte high shine finish. Giving the entire building a sensation of reflectivity. Sander disliked these types of buildings. They felt cold and soulless. These were the kind of buildings that Robbe would defend as being functional but completely lacking in any of Belgium’s highly regarded Art Nouveau/Art Deco qualities. Of course it would be Sander’s luck that this building’s heinous exterior would be the thing that would make him recognize that he was on the right street about to knock on the right door.

Sander had only been to Robbe’s Brussels apartment once before when Robbe moved into it almost a year and a half ago. He hadn’t seen Robbe since he had checked himself out of the hospital and Robbe had driven him home. Sander was somewhat aware of Robbe’s schedule due to the frequency of his texts over the last couple months but he hadn’t told Robbe he was coming. He wanted to catch Robbe off guard. Lessen the possibility of allowing him to gather any of his usual armor to barricade himself from Sander’s charm. After Sander’s hospital stint he knew he had made a mistake. He had allowed himself to believe a false narrative that he and Robbe weren’t perfectly crafted for each other. That they both hadn’t found a way to defy the gods and find one another. During his darkest days Robbe would show up ardently. Journeying between south and north to come spend his time by Sander’s side.  During their time apart Sander was certain that a fracture would have formed. A crevasse so large that it would have cordon off each of them to their respective lives never allowing them to leap across the barrier but Sander was wrong.

During Sander’s hospital stay he caught a virus that germinated from within an undeniable appetite for Robbe. This sickness was a contagion, a gnome sequenced strait into Sander’s DNA. An ailment that percolated beyond marrow-deep, an essential function of the body. It caused a mutation in Sander’s mental state; he’d sit and sketch just Robbe all day long something he had long stopped doing. He would anticipate Robbe bursting through the door in his work clothes, kicking off his loafer, tearing off his shirt and tie.Unapologetically changing into whichever one of Sander’s t-shirt he could find rambling on about the days occurrences making himself completely comfortable in Sander’s orbit. Sander would just watch him take notes of all of Robbe’s beautiful idiosyncrasies, the way he would tilt his head from side to side whenever he lost his train of thought, the way his eyes followed Sander’s hand when he scooped his hair onto to one side, the high pitched giggle that would generate from the back of his throat whenever Sander teased him or he was slightly embarrassed, but also the other side.

You see Robbe had an innate ability. Anytime any medical staff entered their bubble he could morph from his typical bambi-eyed self into a calculated tactician operating under a didactic agenda of inquisition readily observant of negative evaluations concerning Sander’s mental health or the need to further medicate him. It always took Sander aback when he saw this side of Robbe he could be so detached, frigid, coupled with a spikey disposition. This side of Robbe’s was one of the few things he never made public something he reserved only for Sander, only for the things he was most passionate about, the things he wanted to keep safe. Over the years Robbe had surmounted a vast amount of experience when it came to how medical professionals treated the people he loved. Between his mother and Sander’s treatments Robbe had become a battle hardened mutt who’d survived dogfight after dogfight. If he ever sensed your judgement or mistreatment of Sander he could be vicious, react like a rabid animal ready to evasicarate you. Sander’s touch being one of the only things that could stabilize him. Bring him back to himself.

On the last night of Sander’s hospital stay. Robbe delivered one of his high octane good boy next door performances that managed to convince the nursing staff to let him stay pass visitation. He knew their time together was coming to an end. He would go back to his daily life in Brussels and Sander to his normal routine. So, Robbe surprised him. Sander’s episode had kept him from attending the annual contemporary art retrospect at Belgium’s Museum of fine art. Sander loved that retrospect he attended it religiously usually with Robbe by his side. So Robbe found a way to bring it to him. He snuck into Sander’s room during his final therapy session and set up a projector and his laptop up to walk through the exhibition virtually. He accompanied their private art show with one of Sander’s Bowie playlist.  

“Art, can be really feeble” Robbe sighed out as Sander and him laid on their backs looking up at the ceiling walking through the exhibition.  

“What don't you like about it?” Sander pointed his arms towards the work.

“Its a 6 foot gold toothbrush, what is artistic about that?” They both snorted at Robbe’s criticism.  

They both hadn’t anticipated the potency of the next work. It crash-landed into them like a ball of fire. It was an image of a fireworks display, but it paused at the exact moment at the end of one of those big celebratory new year’s eve fireworks’ display when they turn the sky into a pantone of colors and lingering stardust creates a mirage-like effect as the fireworks dissolve into themselves. In-turn making the ground underneath you vibrate like some sort of epicenter to a natural disaster. The artist had probably never intended for the viewer of this piece to take it in on their backs, from a ceiling, in a sterile hospital room, but this setting worked. It magnified the piece allowing its luminescence to turn the hospital room’s white walls into a colorful kaleidoscope of radiance. As they lay there staring at the work Sander turned to Robbe who was in a state of hypnosis, completely captivated, and echoed “I love you”. Robbe snapped his cheek towards Sander his beautiful doh eyes gleaming from the stained glass effect the image was transmitting around the room. Without much thought Sander took Robbe’s hand, the one that when clasped together completed the phrase they both had scribbled on their wrist.  

Sander had been longing to reach out and kiss Robbe for the past couple of weeks but he was so afraid. Afraid that Robbe wouldn’t kiss him back, that he had truly kicked the habit of their love but he scooted towards him anyway, leaped across the crevasse and closed the gap between them and placed an ever so soft kiss on Robbe’s lips. Robbe stilled for a few seconds, unsure, tentative, questioning the gesture but after a few seconds he didn’t object he accepted Sander’s invitation letting Sander slip his tongue onto his. Amping Sander up as he climbed on top of him and slid his hands under his shirt. Robbe let go of his sobriety that night, let the inertia that surrounded them collapse in on itself and create a vortex. That was the first time Robbe and Sander would sleep together since their separation. The first of the many times that would follow and taint them little by little but in that moment neither of them cared. Robbe and Sander just allowed the rain drops of the fireworks above them melt them into symbiosis.

“Sander what are you doing here?” Robbe inquired as he came hurdling out of the apartment building’s door. Just as Sander was about to buzz in. Before Sander could even respond he noticed a dirty blonde with disheveled hair standing behind Robbe. He felt a flicker of anger for a moment but he managed to divert it and turn on.

“Who’s your little friend Robbe?” Sander struck back with a self assured confidence ignoring Robbe’s initial question. Sander didn’t really care who this transient guy was he just didn’t want to miss the opportunity to make Robbe pay.

“This is David”,  Robbe said sounding a bit apprehensive.

Sander waited for Robbe to introduce him but when he didn’t so he took it upon himself to do the honors.  

“Sander”

He extended his hand out to David. Taking notice of the guy’s icy blue eyes the only thing memorable about him.  

Robbe interjected himself into their salutations.

“This is my fri--” Robbe wasn’t fast.

“Am his ex, ya know the love of his life, center of his universe, the one.” Sander really emphasized the last part as he delivered his schtick in his most casual fuck boy tone.

Robbe’s jaw dropped.

Sander had Robbe exactly where we wanted him with a cocksure grin painted across his face. Daring Robbe to say something to him.

Robbe didn’t react fast enough.

“So where’s that accent from David? Doesn’t sound local?”

The poor guy clearly confused and a bit flabbergasted by these odd exchanges between exes. Fumbled out an answer.

“Berlin”

“Oh I loooove Berlin. Robbe and I went to this sex show out there once where this girl was sho…….”

“That’s enough” Robbe cut him off in a matter of fact tone.

Sander was clearly posturing now. Enjoying every minute of this transaction.

“Robbe aren’t you gonna let me finish my story?” Sander pouted back at him.  

“Come now” Robbe grabbed his date by the arm and dragged him away.

Sander was just hotshotting now and yelled out to Robbe, “That’s what you said. Bye David”.

Robbe looked back at Sander and threw him an are you kidding me look.

Sander started counting out loud. He gave Robbe 90 seconds, tops.  

“69, 70, 71, 72……. Ah there you are?”  

“What The Fock Sander” Robbe let out in frustration but also with a tinge of glee behind his voice.

Sander was resting with his back against the doorway with one knee up and his foot up against the wall.

“What?” Sander shrugged his shoulders with a deadpan expression acting like he was utterly confused as to what he had done wrong.

“Your unbelievable, you know that?” Robbe shook his head from side to side as he walked towards him with his head down trying to hide the smile on his face.

“I wonder if he’ll call you?” Sander was clearly gloating now with a wicked grin across his face as Robbe opened the door.  

Whatever game he had initiated he had most certainly won.

“Didn’t realize you were into that whole mopey plant lover vibe though.”

Robbe gave him a smart ass remark, “I dated you for 5 years didn’t I?”.

“Touche, touche” Sander wagged his finger in Robbe’s face.

“But it was actually almost 6 Robin” Sander corrected him as he booped Robbe’s nose while he walked past him and entered the apartment building.

As they walked into Robbe’s apartment. Robbe put his fingers in his ears in anticipation.

Sander took his right hand to his mouth placing his thumb and index finger between his lips and pursed out a deafening high pitch whistle.  

All of sudden the clank of a bell began to approach them. Bowie had come to Sander on command.

“My boy!” Sander picked up that damn cat and smothered him all over his face. Worshipping him. The cat evidently loving every minute of it. Purring to no end.

Robbe walked over to the fridge and grabbed them a couple of beers. He was about to hand one over to Sander who was holding Bowie up high above his shoulders like a baby when he paused. One of his eyebrows rising towards Robbe’s direction.

“Have you..”

Robbe finished Sander’s sentence as he took a sip of his beer. “Been feeding him the grain-free stuff?”  

Robbe nodded.

“He feels heavier”

“Are you sure it’s…?” Sander probed.

“One third of a cup? Yeah. Also, can you not say that out loud? Not in front of the kid, he’s sensitive.” Robbe jokingly reprimanded Sander for commenting on their bowie’s weight.

Sander gave the cat one final smooch and then put him down on the ground. Finally taking that beer off Robbe’s hand.

The inside of Robbe’s apartment had one of those open plan layouts that was situated from right to left. Kitchen, open plan middle space which housed a dining table and living room. It had the icky new build vibe that Sander hated.  

Sander examined the apartment with his eyes and looked back at Robbe who was leaning against his dining table staring at him trying to decipher what Sander would say next.

Sander had almost forgotten why he had even come here and now that his whole plan went awry. He felt a little exposed as he had no real reason to be there.  

“So….” Robbe egged on the conversation. His eyes shifting back and forth.  

Trying to get Sander to participate but Robbe was so good at sensing Sander’s feelings. You’d swear that Sander had little thought bubbles protruding above his head storytelling his internal narrative for Robbe’s personal consumption.

“I know why you’re here?” Robbe finally said. Sounding a bit illusive.

“Oh yeah” Sander asked inquisitively.

“Why am I here?”

“You came here to do that thing we always do” Robbe said as he made a come here gesture with his hands.

Sander broke out a warm smile. Typical Robbe always saving him. Protecting him.

Sander walk towards Robbe. Placing his beer on the table behind him. He then placed both of his hands on each of Robbe 's shoulders and pressed their foreheads together as a sign of thanks for what Robbe had just done.

Pulling back and finally saying to Robbe.

“Okay, but no subtitles this time. Promise?” Sander demanded.

“Sanderrrrr” Robbe whined.

“What is it with you and all that foreign shit.We end up watching tv shows in 7 different languages” Sander jokingly scoffed at Robbe.

“What’s wrong with that?” Robbe asked offended. Thinking doesn’t everyone do that.

“Come” Sander said turning his body to face away from Robbe. Signaling Robbe to get on his back he was going to carry him to the couch.  

Robbe jumped on recalling in his mind how many times they had done this exact thing. In the years that Robbe and Sander had been together they had formed their own traditions. When Sander was hospitalized or at home not feeling very well he would lay in Robbe’s arms in bed or on the couch and just marathon shows for hours. It was strange because any other time Sander wasn’t much of a TV watcher but in Robbe’s mind those moments were some of the best of their relationship. They would just lay together for hours. Robbe would just grip Sander so hard he practically left bruises on Sander’s arms but Sander would still have to remind him to hold him tighter and nuzzle himself even deeper into Robbe’s embrace.

“Where’s your watch?” Robbe picked up his head off Sander’s shoulder to respond.

“Oh my watch broke. I think it’s the battery or something. I needed a new one anyways.”

“Do you still have it? Sander asked as they sat down on the couch together.

“I can fix it for you” Sander was always the handy one in their relationship.

“You don’t have to do that. It’s old. Just let it go.”

“No come on. I want to. I can bring it back to life for you” Sander said as he gestured spooky fingers.  

“What's going on up here?” Robbe twirled his fingers towards Sander’s hair.

“What you don’t like my platinum tips with two inch roots?” Robbe leaned over towards Sander and sweetly rustled his overgrown hair.

This touch of intimacy spurred Sander onto his next thought. He grabbed onto Robbe’s wrist as he began drawing it back from his head and asked.

“Maybe you could dye it for me tomorrow?” His focus shifted downward. As to not draw too much attention as to what he was implying.

There was a pause from Robbe. An acknowledgement of the invisible contract Sander was handing over to him requesting some sort of temporal permanence.

“Only if you cook dinner the night after?” Robbe responded back.

Sander looked up at him with an adolescent grin and leaned in and gave Robbe the most innocent peck on the lips. There was no intent behind it aside from a simple thank you.

“Are you hungry?” Robbe asked.

“I could eat”

“Are you in the mood for anything specific? Italian, French, Greek?”

“Doesn’t matter” Sander titled his head towards Robbe direction. Tacking on.

“I eat everything”

“Everything” Robbe repeated in a sultry voice.

“Yeah everything” Sander spoke onto Robbe’s lips. This kiss, not so innocent.

“Seriously stop…order please. I am starving” Robbe pushed Sander off him in a playful manner.

Sander took out his phone to start ordering but before he did Robbe grabbed him and twirled him around on the couch and brought Sander’s back up against his chest. positioning his arm around Sander's chest. Sander placed a small kiss on the base of Robbe’s thumb and continued on ordering.

“Anything but french” Robbe said as he placed his chin atop Sander’s head.

“You know how I feel about french” Robbe added as he placed another kiss on Sander’s temple.

Finally closing out the dinner conversation with “Don’t forget something sweet for dessert”.

“Something yummy,” Sander said playfully.

“Yeah, something yummy” Robbe toyed back as he pulled Sander tighter into his arms.

****************************************************************************************** Salivating... 

The silkiest organ

Swirls of sulfates

Mixing… 

As the roof of his mouth pressed onto the demerara. Brandishing it’s sugary topcoating onto his enamel. 

Relishing it. 

“Tasty?” Luc whispered into his ears as he swallowed it down. 

“It’s so good” Robbe moaned with a full mouth. 

“Don’t forget to go slow.” Luc egged him on. 

“I want you to really taste it.”   

Luc told his boyfriend. “Is it sweet enough?” Robbe took a big gulp down as confirmation.

“Good, because I wasn’t sure if you would like the raspberry sea salt flavor” Luc quibbed.

Robbe and Lucas(he preferred Luc) had now been dating roughly around 9 months and in that time Robbe was sure Luc had fed him every cake in Belgium and the Netherlands combined.

Luc had one rule, you were only allowed sugar if you burned it off and well Robbe and Luc had found creative ways to work off their glucose consumption.

They hadn’t been together long but they had already established their after sex program. Luc would always bring some decadent treat along for them to share in their post fucked out haze.

Luc was so different from what Robbe had previously experienced. A total skate head with a beach bum swagger composed of a wardrobe of cuffed up light denim, extravagantly printed socks pulled up to his shins, paisley short sleeves shirts which he hardly ever button pass one notch and an array of different colored bucket hats, caps, fedoras and worn down chucks coupled with his signature fur collar denim jacket.

Luc wasn’t an easy breezy type. That wasn’t his style, he was always a little pumped up, boombastic when at his best. Years of living his life on ledges about to drop in into bowls, half pipes or slopes had made him permanently frenetic. He’d learned to meet Robbe in the middle though and give him one slice of cake before he would eventually hijack Robbe’s tranquility and kick him out of bed to hold an impromptu jam session, go skate or find some new concrete hideaway to go vandalize.

Oh and his music taste. There was only one god in Luc’s world, and his name was Marley. BOB MARLEY. Fuck Bowie.

Just kidding, Luc loved Bowie too. He was Robbe’s favourite so he loved anything his boyfriend loved.

If Luc hadn’t impressed Robbe enough during their first meeting well Robbe was not prepared. Luc was a real life wheeler dealer, a bird of prey. He could gnar with the best of them. Play it fast and loose. Go full vertigo. Nothing got Robbe more jacked up then seeing Luc shredding up a storm on his board completely shirtless with his jeans barely hugging his hips and a quarter inch of his boxer’s on display; his washboard abs glistening with sweat. Luc tailspinning through the sky like a stick of dynamite on the path to self destruction.

Luc lived his life like he rode his board. Bitchin fast, at full voltage, bursting with kerosene, no concept of consequences. When his sponsors asked him to ease up on his on the spot celebratory make out sessions with Robbe after his winning runs. He laughed in their face and told them next time he get Robbe to blow him so the kids could get a real show. I mean that was just typical snarky Luc. A real life renegade. Take it or leave it. There was no real way to describe him, a jack of all trades, a real mad hatter, some even called him an artist.

Robbe loved it. Loved him.  

Robbe hadn’t realized how much he had missed the familiarity of a known lover. He had gotten so used to the dribs and drabs of affection that Sander schlepped out that he had just sold himself short but Luc was some unexpected pixie prince who blitz in ready to declare Robbe his. No questions asked, stick a fucking fork in it, done, over, schluss.

Luc was uninhibited too. What he felt is what he said. Luc was loyal to the soil and Robbe was his budding flower. The first time he said “I love you”  he asked for nothing from Robbe in return. Love wasn’t some sort of payment system for him. Luc told Robbe when you know, you just know. None of that mask your feelings in mystery bullshit. For Robbe it took time but Luc was the catalyst he needed to finally wash away the remnants of his past. He did eventually tell Luc he loved him and he meant it but the experience in itself was surreal. See Robbe had never even considered the possibility that he would fall in love with someone else. Sander basically took Robbe’s heart hostage from a young age and Robbe never looked back but somehow this magpie dutchman with his steely azure eyes, a bucket hat and guitar finally broke through and broke Robbe.

“Baby, you want the last bite?” Luc brought the spoon to Robbe’s mouth.

Robbe shook his head back and forth on Luc’s chest. He was too comfortable, lazily placed atop Luc, straddling him. Luc sitting up against Robbe’s headboard with one hand through Robbe’s hair and the other carefully balancing a porcelain plate and fork. As Luc went to put the plate down on the bedside table he grabbed the little bit of whipped cream left on the plate and rubbed it straight down Robbe’s nose.

“Luc” Robbe whined.

Luc immediately cupped his hands on Robbe’s face and gave Robbe a wet sloppy lick. Clearing the cream off. Stopping at Robbe’s mouth to push the remnants of the cream onto Robbe’s tongue and into him. Robbe took that as signal, intensifying the kiss and started gently thrusting onto Luc’s hips. Luc smiled against Robbe’s mouth but before Robbe could really get lost into his heat. Luc broke the soppy kiss. He was such a tease.

“Have you been thinking about what we talked about?”

Luc flashed those pretty eyes at Robbe. Robbe instantly thinking he needs to stop doing this himself. Stop peering into eyes that have the ability to dissolve him.

“Mmmmmhmmmm”

“And….” Luc coaxed him.

“Don’t you think it's a bit too soon?” Luc placed his hands on Robbe’s hips slightly squeezing them. Assuring him he was listening closely.

“I mean it's only been 9 months” Robbe said in a barely audible whisper.

“No pressure” Luc ran the back of his hands on Robbe’s cheek to ease his visible tension.

“We’ll do whatever you want. I just want to be able to wake up next to you every morning”  

“And Bowie?” Robbe added on. Pointing at the black hair cat watching them at the edge of the bed.

“Oh shit” Luc let out.

“I forgot my apartment doesn’t allow pets.”

Robbe’s hands started to feel clammy all of sudden.  

“His coming with me or I am not coming.” Robbe stated harshly in deviance.

Luc laughed at Robbe’s reply finding it a bit dramatic but then he realized Robbe was dead serious. If the cat wasn’t welcomed, he wasn’t coming.

“Ok hear me out. You move to Amsterdam and we look for a new place and come get Bowie. Do you know anyone that could watch him for a month or two?”

Yeah, Robbe knew someone….

“Is he doing better with you?” Robbe enquired tentatively. Knowing this was a sore subject.

“Oh you mean has Bowie tried to scratch my eyes out, bite my fingers off or even let me remotely close to him lately” He let out sarcastically. Knowing damn well that fur ball hated the living shit out of him. He honestly didn’t know why, pets usually loved him but this one seemed to be planning his demise.

“Anyways” Luc said in an attempt to break up the awkwardness. “Sesh time” He picked Robbe off him and headed towards their acoustic guitars resting in the corner of Robbe’s bedroom.

“I finally learned the cords” Luc let out with excitement.

“Took you long enough. I've been waiting.”

Luc hands Robbe his classic mahogany finish Martin. While Luc sports a zestier walnut burl Yamaha.

“Calling rhythm” Robbe declared as he tuned his guitar.

Luc raises his eyebrows in acceptance. Handing Robbe a black pick.

Robbe moves towards the middle of the bed to give Luc room to hop on. They sat across from one another looking at each other.

“Tempo is 1 and a 2 and a 3……” Robbe tells Luc.

Robbe presses his left fingers on the frets. His right fingers holding the pick and he mouths to Luc E add 9 and begins to strum down, up down down, up down up, down, up down down.

Luc picks up Robbe’s tune and Robbe switches out to the rhythm.

Luc continous to play the intro.

Robbe starts to move through some bar chords switching from E to G causing the steel cords to whine out gently as Robbe tabs on them through his cord changes.

Robbe and Luc sit there bobbing their heads up and down as they get lost in the music.

Luc starts to sing the intro “Here comes the story of a hurricane”

Cord change [Robbe]  

The music begins to ascend, “Cyclone…...You’re on your own”.

The strumming is starting to get heavier now.  

Robbe slides his hand down the neck of his guitar to hit some high G’s.  

His eyes are closed now. He knows this part by heart. His working the pocket.

Both men are fully swaying now. In the groove.

Luc sings the chorus. The part everyone knows.

“It was bad and I was unable to pull him inside”

Cord change [Robbe]

They’re at the bridge now.

The strumming intensifies as they hit the crescendo.

Robbe is slumped over his guitar shredding it out. Aggressively bobbing with eyes closed.

This next lyric is Luc’s favourite. He sings it directly to Robbe. Robbe opens his eyes to watch him deliver it to him.

“I could never hate you. Even If I tried”

This part is all Robbe, the pick solo.  

The music is just flowing out of them now. The pace starts descending.

Luc starts playing a little slap stick to wrap it up.

Robbe is taking the melody home.  

Both men are leaning so far back their feet are off the bed as they strum it out.  

There shoulders moving in syncopation with one another.

Robbe winds it down slowly. Not wanting to let go of the moment.

But eventually he stops and lets the music go out.

Both men look up and giggle at each other in perfect harmony and share a kiss.

“I love you” Luc says as he takes hold of Robbe’s chin and kisses him again.

“Love you too” Robbe tells him back.

As they pull away from each other. Luc whisper’s in Robbe ear.  

“I am so happy that I found you”

Robbe shudders. Lightning strikes him. An overwhelming nausea overcoming him. His body stiffens.

“Are you okay?” Luc asks him.

Robbe hops out of bed muttering something about feeding Bowie knowing that he needs to get out of room.

He runs to his kitchen sink. His body violently letting out a dry heave over the sink but nothing comes up. It's just a reaction.

He hovers over the sink for a few seconds splashing water on his face. Trying to gather himself.

He feels something massage his arm. He jumps back and realizes it's just Bowie nuzzling him. His aqueducts begin to moisten so he squeezes his eyes shut and looks up at the ceiling. Attempting to will everything away but he sees it, the white studio with the pictures on the walls. His breathing starts to even out after a minute or two.

He opens his eyes, feeling somewhat composed. Thinking he managed to keep it all at bay but little did he know the rot within had begun to permeate, a contagion that was seeping into every orifice of his soul.

******************************************************************************************

Is this where the living come to meet their death?

In the gullies of the earth.  

Where tranches of unclaimed dukedoms exist awaiting reanimation.

Oxygenless.

Still.

The soulful, arms up, reacting to the vastness in complete surrender.

Robbe feels the pressure, he moves slowly.

Unable to make out anything. In dire need to escape his holdings.

The laws of thermodynamics pushing him towards the surface.

He finally gives in. Contracting his body and propelling himself vertically upwards. Like a jellyfish moving through the ocean currents. His lungs thanking him as he reappears from his watery submersion.

Robbe’s vision takes a moment to adjust. Still in disbelief that he let Sander talk him into one of his usual clandestine expeditions of break-ins, yacht clubs and late night canal swims.

Robbe wipes the back of his hands against his eyes in attempts to wipe off the condensation clinging onto him. He can’t see anything. Its pitch black, and the canal provides no lighting. All he can see is the deck lights in the distance. Where he abandoned his clothing and all of his usual utilities.

“Sander!” He screams out in panic.

Nothing.

Silence.

Robbe starts to paddle towards the deck. He's been in the water for what feels like eternity. He’s exhausted so he twists his body towards the sky and begins to backstroke.

The moonlight is shining down on him.

He paddles lightly. Tiny waves billowing around his body. The stars surveillance comforting him.

Robbe absorbs the cosmos above him. His mind blank, calm, reassured. A baptism of the mind via compound elements.

Suddenly a creature from the bowels of the riverbed pulls him under.

He turns to face it.

Robbe and Sander are swimming across from one another. Face to face, the water encasing them. Sander swims over to Robbe. He goes to kiss him but before he can lean in, Robbe pulls up.

Ripples crack through to the surface as both men reemerge.

“Still don’t know how to swim?” Sander yells out breathlessly. Struggling to grab enough air to even out his slight panting.

“Still cheating?” Robbe taunts.

Sander paddles over to Robbe. He is so close to Robbe's face he can feel his breath on his cheek.

“Something’s never change”, Sander whispers to Robbe. His eyes glistening in the moonlight.

Like shiny emeralds looking back at him.

But Robbe isn’t swayed so easily by Sander’s charm anymore and responds.

“You know I was foolish once. The kind of kid that was impressed by breaking the law and making out in large bodies of water”

“And what about now?” Sander starts leaning in towards Robbe.

Robbe puts his index finger under Sander’s chin and moves his cheek to the side. Dodging Sander’s advances and says.

“Still foolish, but maybe not so young�� Unable to contain a cheeky grin.

Robbe starts to paddle away from Sander. Then he stops, looks back at Sander and tilts his head towards one side and says.

“Come, race you.”

Sander gives him a soft laugh and paddles towards him up for the challenge.

“On the count of 3”

“1, 2 ….”

Before Sander could even get to 3. Robbe starts sprinting towards the deck.

Sander yells out to him.

“Cheater”

It seems so juvenile Robbe thinks but he feels so exposed as he stands on the deck putting his clothes back on in front of Sander. Sander has literally seen Robbe naked hundreds if not thousands of times at this point.

“Stop looking” Robbe slips out coyly. Pulling his jeans up onto his hips.

“Am admiring the view” Sander says with a mischievous smile across his face.

“Come on, hurry up.  We need to get home, Bowie needs his dinner.” Robbe checks the time on his watch. It clocks 21:21.

Sander turns around to face the Scheldt canal. His back to Robbe now.

“You know I once heard this story” Sander says. Still facing away from Robbe.

“About two boys and a beach house with a moon just like this one” Sander points up to the sky.

Robbe knows where he is going with this but he doesn’t want to hear it. Not now. Not this story. Not after everything that has happened. This story is off limits.

“Please don’t” Robbe says in a stern voice. Sander turns around to look directly at him. Knowing by the tremor in Robbe’s voice that he has hit a pain point.

“Why?” Sander challenges Robbe, annoyed at his lack of engagement.

“You used to love that story?” Sander adds on.

“I used to love a lot of things” Robbe threw back with venom.

Sander wasn’t amused by Robbe’s comment but he was prepared. He knew this moment was inevitable. So he continued.

“These two boys fell in love at the house by the beach”

“The brown haired skater boy……”

Robbe rushed him, pissed and asked again.

“Stop it, Sander. Just stop it”

Robbe pushed him hard now. Almost making Sander fall off the deck.

“I don’t want to hear your stupid fucking story” Robbe pleaded.

But Sander was relentless. Taking the opportunity to incite Robbe even more.

“Then we had the artist who fell in love with his skater boy.”

Robbe was seething now. An indescribable rage bubbling within him. Sander knew this story was hazardous. It wasn’t meant for retelling unless needed.

But Sander knew how far he could take Robbe until he broke him and he was determined to shatter him into pieces. So he went on with an almost growl in his voice.

“The artist would say that the moonlight was shining down on the skater boy and he knew.….” Sander suddenly charged at Robbe. Cupping his cheeks in his hands but with distinct force. His eyes pierced through Robbe as he slowly queued Robbe into the story while holding his face in his hands, peering down at him and asked.

“What did he know Robbe?”

Sander squeezed his cheeks even harder. It hurt Robbe a little, Sander noticed and lightened his grip up.

“Say it”

Sander’s pupils were fully dilated now. Almost black. It made him look so harsh under the moonlight.

Robbe stayed silent. He didn’t recant the story. He didn’t want to.

Sander was nose to nose with Robbe now. Still holding Robbe’s cheeks in place. Robbe was sure his heart was going tachycardic as Sander said.

“What are you afraid of skater boy? That maybe you’ll speak the story into existence.”

Sander almost violently let go of Robbe making him fall back on himself. Switching up his charm instantly into one of his nonchalant demeanours.

Then he said, “I think it's time to get you home Robbe. You need to feed my cat.”

And now….Now Robbe had had enough and he unleashed.

“He’s not your cat. So don’t come in here thinking you know what's best for him because you don’t. Oh, and just so you know. He hates that fucking diet food you buy him. He likes to be petted upwards not downwards. He sleeps on the right side of the bed because I sleep on the left and I give him half a cup of regular food because one third doesn't cut it anymore. His changed. You don’t know shit about him. You gave him away, you left him, you abandoned him and you have no right to him now.”

Robbe hadn’t realized he was so enraged until a tear rolled down his cheek.

Sander just glared at him, grinding his jaw down. His eyes squinting in a fiery veil Robbe hadn’t seen before. He said nothing as he walked towards Robbe but when they got shoulder to shoulder as he passed him. Sander stopped, looking straight ahead and said.

“I didn’t abandon him. I took him to the only person I knew would protect him.”

Sander walked off into the night. The moonlight shining above them.

******************************************************************************************

“Do we need to protect your scalp?” Genade asked.

“Nah, It's not bleach, it's just hair dye” Sander said.

“I still can’t believe you won’t be a blonde anymore.”

Sander shrugged his shoulders as he checked out his dye job in the mirror.

“Sometimes you just need a change” he said.

“I am thinking of dying my locs too. Maybe purple”

Sander scowled at that statement and shook his head.

“No don’t do purple. I hate purple”

“I love your pink locs. They stand out against your skin. Make you look even more beautiful in the sunshine”.

“Awwwww, thanks baby” Genade pressed a kiss on Sander’s lips.

Genade de Heem was a half dutch/half nigerian hippie fairy with an edge. Sander met her at his tattoo shop's grand opening. Noor had brought her along as her plus one. Sander was instantly infatuated with her. I mean it was hard not to be she was a stunner. She looked like a young Zendaya. A real life ten.

They hadn’t been dating long. It was all still very new but so far she was close to perfect for Sander. She was a wild child like him. A Bowie fan too she even knew all the b-sides. An ink queen with a huge lettering piece on the back of her arms that read Love Is Love. She meant it too. She had no reservations or premeditations about people, life or love. She didn’t push Sander for a label either. She would say, why need a label? When lost souls are meant to be they will find one another across the dunes of life. So they just existed, and they were cool with that.  

“Babe you want to go out tonight? Show off my new look” Sander asked.

Genade agreed but added on.  

“Let’s make it an early one though. Remember we gotta bake those croissants tomorrow”.

Yeah, she was an amazing cook too.

“Ok ready?” Sander asked as Genade sat in the bedroom waiting.

“Yes, show me” She said.

Sander walked out of his bathroom into the bedroom as a full blown brunette.

Genade squealed.

“You look smoking hot”

Sander rustled his wet brown hair. It was certainly different for him but like he said he needed a change. Needed to “look” more grown up.

“You know what, lets just go out now. I am in the mood” Sander said, hyped up.

The pair got moving and started collecting their shoes and jackets but as Sander put on his signature Black Doc Martens, he thought nah. In tribute to his old hair he was going to pull out the white Doc Martens. He walked over to his bed and got on his hands and knees to peer under it. Those shoes had to be somewhere in this general area.

Finally he found them but as he pulled them out a litter of other shoes came along for the ride. All tangled up via their prospective shoelaces. Sander picked apart his white Doc shoelaces and dropped the rest of the shoes on the ground as he started the usual wiggle and jiggle to get his boots on. He hadn’t even noticed Genude staring at him from the doorway.  

“Your so pretty baby” Genude said in the warmest voice.

“Oh yeah come over here and I’ll show you how pretty I can be”

There was the squeal again.

Genude dropped her bag and jacket on the spots and ran towards Sander who was sitting on the edge of the bed but as she sprinted towards him she tripped and dove past the bed. Sander tried to grab her but her hands slipped off his and she crash landed on the other side of the bed alone.

“Ca’va?”

She pushed herself off the floor and signaled to Sander that she was fine just a little embarrassed.  

She went to look at what she had slipped on.  

On the floor were some old grey vans.  

“Stupid shoes!”

“I've never seen you wear these”, Genude stated in a prying fashion. Realizing quickly those didn’t look like Sander’s size.

“I don’t wear them anymore actually. Honestly I should just throw them away.”

As Sander grab the pair of shoes to toss them in the garbage.

Genude stopped him and said, “No keep them, you know how these things go full circle and come back into fashion.”

“They’ll probably be al la mode within the next year or two”. If she only knew.

“If you say so” Sander encouraged her.  

“Anyways, lets go, I need a drink”

Genude nodded in consensus.

As Sander headed out the door, he turned back around and kicked the shoes back under the bed.  

Forgetting about them for now.  

Sending them back into the darkness.  

*****************************************************************************************

The clock dials filled up the silence.

Tick …

tock….

Tick…

tock….

It sat above Dr Meyer’s office door.

He would just sit there and passively observe it. The time, passing forward.

He was usually disengaged and uninterested but something felt different today.

His voice pierced through the silence.

“There’s been something lingering” he said with little regard to the allowance of truth he was exposing.

His hands were clammy. So he gripped his fist. Hoping it would provide some sort of comfort.

“When I was younger, I use to let people control me. Influence my thoughts and feelings. Try to tell me what I felt without really listening to me. Or noticing how I was hurting, how I was changing. It made me angry, made me say things I didn’t mean. Hurt the people I cared about."

"It made me think I am never going to find anyone, at least no one who’ll really love me.”

He exhaled.

“But I did find someone and he was great. Perfect even, but I ruined it and now I keep asking myself why?” This was an unusual admittance for him. Sparking a recollection of last night’s happenings and the nights before that.

Laying in the dark.

A bareless ceiling.

Questions left unanswered.

“Are the sleeping pills not working?” Dr Meyer asked.

“Are they having any negative side effects?”

He hated questions like these, probing ones that were an attempt to calculate the durability of your mind. He also really hated the layout of Dr Meyer’s office. It felt like it was intentionally laid out to make you feel like some sort of dance monkey being poked at to divulge some existential secret about your own reality. He was over this session, he wanted it to end. Thank god he told the doctor he would need to leave early today.

“I haven’t been taking them. I mean I have them. It’s just ...I don’t know. There is so many thoughts going on and on...”

He twirled his index fingers around his temples. A depiction of his minds’ instability.

Dr Meyer took note of that comment and wrote it down.

“Could you maybe benefit from some mood stabilizers?”

That question made him anxious. Made him press his palms together and scratch his nails on the surface of his left hand. An adolescent twitch that became an established habit after so many years of over exposure to medical professionals.

“Yeah maybe that could help, but I think before I do that, I should try to find some answers. Take care of something that has been gnawing at me.”

“I could refer you to a more senior colleague if needed. Someone that specializes in sleep disorders.” The doc suggested with a sense of empathy.

“Could you maybe come back at 4pm today?”

He shook his head back and forth and started to get off the couch.

“Sorry doc. I have to go now. I did mention I needed to leave early today. I have to be somewhere at 10am.”

He put his jacket on and looked at his watch.

“And looks like I have 19 minutes to get there now.”

He gave the doc a one hand palm up salute to thank him for his time.

He walked towards the exit and as he turned the door handle Dr Meyer tacked on.

“Oh and Robbe”

“Try to come back at 4. So we can try to help you with the sleeping.”

Robbe gave the doc a lackluster sign of acknowledgement.

He left quickly.

Ran out the office, and into the daylight.

The autumn leaves scattered all across the pavement on his route to work.