#feels incredibly disjointed with this idea of not living their lives on pause / starting their future

[theghostofashton]

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[knifeshoeoreofight]

He keeps dreaming of snow. 

It’s July. The weather is warm and sticky, and the sun has been blazing hot for weeks. And he dreams about snow.

It’s the same every time. A lake fringed with dark trees, the ice covered in a flawless expanse of white. Blank and perfect. In the dream, he has a pair of skates slung over his shoulder by the laces. When he swings them down to untie the knots and get them on his feet, they’re always a different pair he recognizes.

The first pair of good skates he’d received as a child, still able to fit him in the boundless logic of dreaming. He’d fallen asleep clutching them to his chest when he’d gotten them that Christmas. Stuffed dog under one arm, skates under the other. 

The beat up pair he hid in Rimouski, so that he could practice even after they took away his regular skates. The same ones he’d take to play shinny in the park, just to feel a little normal. Free.

The pair he wore to win gold in Vancouver, gleaming and perfect. 

In the dream he sits on a snowbank and pulls the skates on, and then he’s on the ice. You can’t skate on snow-covered ice, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Dream logic again.

The dark trees around the lake never grow closer, no matter how hard he skates for the opposite shore. Always, he ends up standing in the middle of that blank, unsettling expanse of white, frustrated. When he looks behind him, there’s never a mark in the featureless snow to show where he’s been. Nothing.

And he wakes up then, usually, disturbed and wondering why the fuck he’s dreaming that dream again. 

***

He’s busy enough.The flurry of early summer weddings has petered out, finally. He loves his friends’ happiness, but the annual glut gets…old. Exhausting.

He has a few media obligations, some pre-planned get togethers with Nate and any of the boys who happen to be in town. He’s ramping up the training. But he still has too much damn time to brood in between it all. You’d think he’d be able to get the bad taste of last season out of his mouth by now, but it lingers, their ignominious playoff exit following him like a shadow.

He fishes, he paddleboards. He golfs. He trains some more. He tries going to the farmer’s market and has to leave after fifteen minutes because of the commotion his appearance causes. He teaches himself how to make gluten free parmesan chicken from the Internet.

He checks social media, liking pictures of babies and dogs and summertime shenanigans on Instagram. He uploads a photo of his dock at sunrise to his private one, to a flurry of likes and chirping about being a boring old man, fishing all day. 

It’s a little funny but it stings a bit too. He doesn’t like to think of himself as old. He’s not, by ordinary standards. But he is in hockey years, and it terrifies him sometimes. 

He should post more often, then maybe he’d get less shit from the guys. He’d only made his account in the first place so that he could follow the people that mattered to him. 

He wakes up early to find that Geno commented a string of parentheses and a couple incomprehensible emojis. 

He’s given up trying to interpret what Geno means by them; he’s 90% sure he just picks the weirdest ones possible just to fuck with people. 

Sid ponders what to respond, and finally settles on turtle, Brazillian flag, paperclip. There, let him have a taste of his own medicine. 

i dont get it, jake posts underneath. Probably sex stuff, replies Flower. better not to ask. 

Asshole, Sid replies, and feels his face flush. It’s all meant as a joke, but thinking of sex and Geno too close together is always a problem, and he buries the well-worn thing he doesn’t acknowledge like he always does. 

***

The next time he has the dream, there’s someone else there. He doesn’t see them, but their presence behind him lies on him like a weight.

He stops in the middle of the lake like he always does. The presence behind him stops too.

“Hey,” Sid says, more as an inquiry than a greeting.

Some small bit of dream-awareness slots into place, and he knows that it’s Geno, behind him.

“Three years Superleague, huh?” Sid says. It’s good, and right, Geno standing behind him.

***

More training. A podcast recording with Biz and Whit that actually ends up being a lot of fun. Just shooting the shit and swapping stories. 

They ask him about Geno, of course, angling for some dirt, some “ha ha he’s so Russian” and “what a bully” kind of shit. Sid doesn’t give them anything.

Geno, Sid has always thought, is more just like an enormous cat. A little moody and opinionated, liking things to be just so. Affectionate and friendly only on his own terms. He’s always wondered if that was mostly due to the language barrier, or if it’s just how Geno is. He used to watch whenever Geno spoke to Gonch, or his friends on other teams. Listen to the faster cadence of his voice, the expansive movements of his hands, the expressiveness of his face. Trying to figure out who Geno really was when he was comfortable and at ease.

He used to watch Geno way too much in those days.

It’s still a problem sometimes.

Geno always treated Sid a little differently. All of his brash pushiness is tempered a little. He always looks into Sid’s eyes when Sid is trying to tell him something, leaning in and listening with his whole body. Sid has never taken that deference and respect for granted, treating Geno’s fierce loyalty as the precious honor it is.Geno gives zero consequence to people he’s decided he doesn’t like or respect. He isn’t like Sid, he doesn’t bother to reign in his colossal emotions or attempt a veneer of politeness or charm. If he’s done with you he’s done with you. 

Geno is Geno, and Sid, god help him, has always loved him for it.

***

He has the dream again, and it’s accompanied by a creeping sense of dread. He and the Geno-presence take to the ice. In the middle of the lake, instead of smooth white, the snow is broken by a series of jagged cracks, dark water sloshing malevolently inches from Sid’s skates. 

“Fuck, look out–” he tells Dream-Geno, but Dream-Geno steps past him, for the first time.

“Geno!” Sid tries to scream, but he doesn’t have the air. In the disjointed way of dreams, Sid just knows that Dream-Geno is in the water now, even if he didn’t see anything happen. 

He drops to his knees, and reaches out. The water looks liquid, but his fingers scrabble along it like it’s ice. He claws at it, horror and desperation cresting over him. He’s trying to scream Geno’s name, but he can’t- he just can’t- 

When he wakes up, he’s gasping, heart trying to pound its way out of his chest. He’s disoriented for a split second, grief crushing, until he wakes up further and realizes he was dreaming. 

He sits up with a groan, shreds of the dream and its dread slowly fading around him. Fuck. He hasn’t had a nightmare like that in years. 

He checks the time on his phone, curses to see that it’s three thirty in the morning. He drags himself up, flinching as he flips the bathroom light on. He takes a piss, and splashes water on his face as if he can wash away the lingering awfulness of the dream.

So weird. He hadn’t really seen anything, but the emotions themselves had felt so real. 

Back in bed, he almost doesn’t want to go back to sleep. He feels wide awake anyway. What he wants to do, is. 

Incredibly stupid.

Good for a lifetime of shit-talking if Geno tells anyone.

He does it anyway. 

You up? He texts Geno. It’s nine-something am in Moscow, so who knows. Geno’s not exactly a morning person.

There’s no answer, for long enough that he starts to feel even more colossally lame than he already did. 

Then his phone rings, making him jump. Fuck.

“Sid?” Geno says when he picks up. “What’s happen? It’s night for you.”

God, his voice. Deep and rumbling right in his ear. Accent thick like it always gets over the summer when he doesn’t use his English for months. Sid feels something in him let go, soothed by a living, breathing Geno at the other end of the line. But, then, he realizes that he now has to come up with an explanation that isn’t just, “hey bud, just had a real bad dream, wish you were here to fucking tuck me in, eh?” 

“Uh. I’m okay it’s just… I was thinking.”

There’s a judgmental silence on the other end of the line. Sid pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand.

“You’re gonna chirp me forever, man. I, uh. I’ve been having this dream.” 

“Whaat?” Geno draws the word out, somehow conveying both amusement and disbelief. 

“I know, I know. But I’ve been having this stupid dream about skating on a lake, yeah? Just over and over. It’s fucking weird. And you were there? I think. The last few times, anyway. And this time there were these cracks in the ice, and you fell in. You know how even if it doesn’t make sense, for a second in a dream your brain doesn’t know the difference? Well. You, you were dead.” 

He pauses, realizing he’s babbling, how stupid this is. Shame washes over him. 

“Okay…” Geno says, clearly trying to take all of that in. “Sorry for dream?”

“Not your fault,” Sid says automatically. “So, yeah. Pretty much I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Geno huffs out a laugh. “Okay. I’m doing good, so.” There’s a pause, like he’s considering something. 

“It’s little bit cute, you know? Call me for scared.” His tone is amused but not as teasing as Sid would expect.

Still. Cute.

“Oh my god,” Sid groans, and flops back into his pillows.

“So stupid,” he says, more to himself then to Geno.

“No, no,” Geno says, and he’s definitely laughing now. “It’s fine, most cute. Can call me, I can give you some story, for sleep. Maybe some song.”

“Fuck off,” Sidney gripes, but he’s kind of smiling at the ceiling now, like a dweeb. 

Geno yawns, then audibly settles back into the bed or couch he’s probably lounging on. “So, keep having dream?”

“Yeah, over and over. No idea why.”

“Stress?”

Sid is quiet for a moment, wondering how to answer. “Maybe. My birthday, the season coming up. You know.”

“You captain,” Geno says. “Lots things for worry.” The matter of fact way he says it is comforting, somehow. “You need come here. Have fun in Russia.”

“Naw. The visa would take too long to get,” Sid says, wondering if Geno means it, if he’d really like to show Sid around Moscow.

“You know how long it’s take?” Geno sounds amused again, like he’s smiling. “You think about?” 

“Oh, off and on,” Sid answers. “Over the years, you know.”

“Should do, Russia best.”

Sid laughs. “Oh, for sure.”

“You do, you come. We go to banya, we eat Russian food. You can go to some museum, so boring.”

It sounds… really good. It makes an old ache start up behind Sid’s ribcage to think about it, but it sounds good. Especially if…

There’s always been an expiration date on Geno’s time in the US. And if this season is as bad as the last–

Sid tamps down the urge to surrender to the loss he can sense hovering on the horizon. 

“That sounds amazing, G. I want to, I really do. What about next summer? I can make sure the paperwork is all set up ahead of time.” Something to look forward to in that summer, no matter what. A way to delay Geno from slipping through his fingers if Geno decides he’s finally had it.

He’s being irrational, he knows. Geno has a contract. And yet.

“Yes, we do,” Geno says, with finality. “You come.”

They’re both quiet for a moment. Then there’s a bit of rustling on Geno’s end, like he’s sitting up. He sounds more awake when he speaks again.

“I can come early, now. Go to Canada first.”

Sid blinks, his lips parting in surprise. “Come here? To Nova Scotia? You’d want to?”

“No more bad dream,” Geno coos mockingly, and Sid has to laugh.

“You gonna tuck me in at night, eh?” Fuck, no, what is he doing. That sounds like he’s trying to flirt, or something. He needs to backpedal. 

“For real though. I’d always love to have you visit, you know that. I just thought, it’s a little quiet, maybe. Boring.” His voice, damn it, is a lot softer than he meant it to sound. Maybe revealing a little too much. He hopes Geno isn’t paying attention.

“Mooost boring,” Geno drawls. Then, firmly: “I come. You can show me fishing. No golf.” 

Something stupid and anticipatory flutters in Sidney’s gut. “Sure, okay. Let’s uh, work out the details.” Fuck.

***

Geno plans to go to Miami for a week, then to Sid’s, then to fly together down to Pittsburgh for training camp. He grouses a little at needing to be early because Sid is the captain and always shows up in town first. 

He grumbles but then he’s there in a week and a half, tanned and insolent with a backwards SnapBack on his head, rolling a lollipop stick between his teeth and disturbing Sid’s whole universe.

He pulls Sid in for a one armed hug and a backslap, right there in the terminal. He smells like airplane and very nice cologne, and Sid wonders why the hell he allowed this to happen.

He’s exhausted but looks around avidly as they take the 102 down to Dartmouth.

“Flat,” he says thoughtfully. “Big sky. Like Russia.”

Sid feels disproportionately pleased about that. 

It’s so strange, looking at home through Geno’s eyes, or trying to. He wants him to like it. 

“Halifax is across the harbor from where we are now,” Sid explains. “We can take a look around tomorrow.”

“I’m look Google Earth,” Geno says. “Little bit. Pretty.”

“It is,” Sid agrees. 

There’s a strange little smile playing around Geno’s lips as he takes in his surroundings. Sid isn’t quite sure what it means.

When they get to Sid’s place, Geno unfolds his long legs from the car and shoves his sunglasses up on his head. He just stands there for a minute, looking at the house, the sliver of lake visible through the trees. 

Then he looks at Sid, like he’s fitting Sid into this place in his mind. That wry little smile is back.

“Looks like you,” he says, and Sid isn’t quite sure what he means. 

***

Sid takes Geno out on the lake to fish. He takes him to the rink for training, where Geno imperiously nods once at Nate and then proceeds to ignore him for the rest of the drills. He stands in the lobby for a long time, looking at the display of Sid’s jerseys and photos. He takes a picture of one of Sid’s Timbits photos with his phone. 

Sid takes him around Halifax, as promised, then to his parent’s house, where Geno is all charm and bashful politeness, helping Sid’s mom in the kitchen and talking hockey with Sid’s dad. 

In every place, it’s a strange collision of worlds. Sid has to stop himself from just, staring all the time. Geno, here in his life. Lying on the floor of his parents’ living room to fuss over Sam. Rifling through Sid’s cabinets to judge his lack of acceptable tea. Strapping on his pads in the locker room of the rink where Sid learned to skate. 

He fits easier than Sid had imagined, and that ache seems to sit in his chest all the time now.

***

Geno’s been there nearly a week when Sid has the dream again. Same thing, with Geno disappearing into the dark water. 

Sid wakes up drenched in sweat, and swears before stumbling as quietly as he can to his kitchen for cold water from the Brita in the fridge. 

“Sid?”

Sid yelps, sloshing water all over the counter. “Fuck!” 

Geno’s lying on the couch in the living room, awash in the blue light of the muted television. 

“What are you doing up? Did I wake you?” 

“Still little bit jet lag. What’s happen? Dream, again?” 

Sid takes his glass of water and stands pointedly by the couch until Geno pulls up his knees and frees a space for Sid to sit. 

“Yeah.” Sid sighs. “So stupid.” He rubs at his eyes. 

“I’m die?” 

Sid stares ahead at the silent TV. It’s showing an ad for Canadian Tire. He’s not sure how he feels about talking about this, least of all talking about it with Geno. “Uh huh.” 

Geno scoots partially upright, and regards Sid with a surprising amount of gravity. 

“What you worry about, Sid?” he says, and it’s quiet, his voice low. 

Sid can’t look at him. He takes a long swallow of water and sets his glass carefully on the coffee table, trying to decide how honest to be. 

He’s too tired, on too many levels, to say anything other than the truth. 

“That if we have another season like we did, you’ll decide you’re done.” 

Geno whole face seems to go soft, his mouth dropping open a little. 

“I know,” Sid says quickly. “I know, this is so stupid, but I just—” 

Geno swings his feet to the floor, and suddenly he’s right there next to him, so close their thighs are almost touching. 

“Sid,” Geno says, and waits to continue until Sid looks over at him. 

“Until I’m hurt or you leave, I’m not leave Penguins.” 

His voice is softer and more reassuring than Sid has ever heard it before. What is happening. 

He can’t speak for a moment. 

“I, uh. Fuck, G.” 

Geno is just. Sitting there so close Sid can feel the heat of his body, looking at Sid with dark, serious eyes. 

Sid wants to kiss him. Wants to push him back onto the couch and mark him up. Something must have shown in his face because Geno tilts his head, brows drawing together in puzzlement. 

“Sid?”

Sid shakes his head. He has to get It together, in so many ways. 

“No, yeah, sorry I just.” He sighs. “Thank you, G. I can’t tell you how much that means.” 

Geno makes a hum of agreement, and stands, extending a hand to Sid. Sid shouldn’t take it but he does, let’s Geno haul him to his feet, and lets Geno…pull him in for a hug apparently. Oh no. 

This time Geno smells like the body wash Sid keeps in the guest bedroom, and his worn t shirt is soft against Sid’s cheek. 

It’s a curiously long embrace, and when Geno’s arms tighten Sid allows himself the indulgence of relaxing, letting himself melt into it. 

Geno raises one hand and lays it heavily on the nape of Sid’s neck. He eases back so he can look into Sid’s face. 

Sid can’t tell what he’s thinking. And he himself can’t think at all, not with Geno’s hand pressing onto his neck and his everything so, so close. 

He realizes, slowly, that Geno’s hands are shaking. 

“G?”

“Sid,” Geno says, husky and so low. 

Sid feels outside of his body, incredulous that this is really, actually happening as Geno, very slowly, leans in, pausing just a hairsbreadth from Sid’s lips. 

“Sid?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, and tilts his head up to cross that final bit of separation. 

Geno’s kiss is soft lips and hot mouth, gasped breaths and possessive sweeps of those huge hands. 

Sid shudders in his arms as Geno moves to his neck, trailing kisses across his jaw and down to the skin bared by the vee of his sleep shirt. 

Sid tugs them backwards, folding when the couch hits the back of his legs and pulling Geno down over him. 

He’s greedy, he’s starving. He can’t touch enough skin, he can’t get Geno close enough. He sets his teeth where Geno’s neck meets his shoulder and nearly keens when Geno moans and responds with a slow, devastating roll of his hips. 

“Geno, is this— are you—“

Geno pushes himself upright enough to look Sid in the eyes. 

���Won’t leave, Sid. Can’t.”

“I’ve wanted this,” Sid confesses. “I’ve wanted this for a really long time.”

“Good,” Geno says, and rolls his hips again. 

“I can’t just do a, a one time fuck or—“ 

“No,” Geno says sharply. “No.” He leans on one elbow so that he can lay a hand on Sid’s cheek. “We’re like this, you know? Mine.” 

Sid feels too bright and expansive for his skin. He fists a hand in Geno’s t-shirt and tugs him closer. 

“Mine,” he echoes, and Geno groans, responding to another tug and taking Sid’s mouth in a deep, demanding kiss. 

Hands and mouths and the greedy rocking of their bodies bring them to completion within moments of each other. 

Sid lies there after, stroking his hand over Geno’s head where he’s laid it on Sid’s chest. He’s sprawled over Sid like a gigantic, clingy octopus, and Sid is feeling the kind of incredulous elation he normally associates with Cups and Olympic gold. 

“Thanks for coming, G,” he says, and although he meant “coming to Canada,” 

Geno snorts. 

“You know what I mean, dickhead,” Sid says, laughing. 

“I mean it,” he says a few minutes later. “I’m just, yeah.” 

Geno smiles at him like that made perfect sense, and doesn’t protest when Sid prods him upright and tugs him along into Sid’s bedroom. 

***

Jet lag or not, Geno falls asleep with Sid spooned up behind him, and is still asleep when Sid wakes up to the mid-morning sun streaming in the windows. Heart impossibly full, the old ache released and gone, Sid presses a kiss to the sun-gilded skin of Geno’s shoulder. 

He had dreamt of the lake again, but this time, as happened for him only rarely, he’d lucid-dreamed. 

“No,” he’d told Dream-Geno, and turned his back on the lake. Which suddenly was a completely frozen Monongahela River. 

He points up the bank, towards the arena. “We’ve got a game to get to.” 

Dream-Geno put his hand in Sid’s, and leaned down to kiss his hair. 

“Let’s go,” he tells Sid, and they walk up the bank together.

[thdorkmagnet]

Light of the Sun and Stars Chapter 13: Questions with No Answers

Summary: His whole life Marco Diaz has been raised by monsters, living under the cruel rule of their leader, Toffee. But one day Marco escapes into Mewni where he meets a magical princess and Mewman like himself, who begins teaching him all about her world. Together they will learn about life, love, and the lights within each of them, as they change their world forever.

Chapter Synopsis: Marco, now desperate for answers about the truth the Monsters hid from him, begins trying to find out what he can. That is until he learns of an odd word that everyone seems weird about discussing with him. So the big question is what is a “kiss”?

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Disclaimer: Star vs and all its characters are owned by Daron Nefcy and Disney. All rights go to them.

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“Mr. Candle?” Marco called, banging his fist as firmly against the door as he could in an attempt to draw the make-shift counselor out of his office. “Mr. Candle I really need to speak to you! It's important!” the boy tried again, but there was no response and Marco sighed in defeat.

“Where is he?” Marco asked himself, before noticing the note hanging above the door, reading : Gone away on important business. Will return indefinitely. The boy sighed loudly. “What does that even mean?” he asked, feeling at a loss of what to do now. He had really needed some guidance, his life feeling way too complicated right now without Mr. Candle's help.

First, there was the monsters and whatever checkered past everyone seemed to be keeping secret from him. It was getting harder and harder not to tell somebody about the incident, his mind almost constantly plagued by his troubling thoughts, always fearful someone would discover the truth. But the boy had no idea where to even begin to unravel the mystery and make sense of the disjointed puzzle pieces, his only hope being that somehow Mr. Candle might be able to help him out, the boy willing to include him in on his secret if it meant figuring all this out. But it seemed like it was a dead end, the boy now back to square one with no backup plan to go off of.

And then, there was Star. It had been a few days since the Orphan's Ball and the last he had really seen of the girl had been that long, disheartening confession about her past suffering, not exactly the most pleasant memory shared with his bestie. Though she didn't seem torn up over it anymore (which he was grateful for) she had seemed awfully distant of late, as she had seemed to throw herself into her work with raw determination, which Marco should be proud of her for, if it wasn't for the fact that if Marco didn't know any better he would swear she was avoiding him. Which he was starting to wonder if she was, the little time the two shared together Star kept herself at a distance, very rarely making eye contact and seeming like she was forcing her voice to sound more formal and uptight around him. He didn't mention it, partially because he thought it might all be in his head and partially because he figured if she was acting that way it was only because she was feeling awkward after telling him her darkest secret. So now Marco wasn't sure what to do or say or even if he should do or say anything, terrified he might set her off again or make it worse.

Marco sighed loudly as he walked off down the hall, looking defeated as he buried his hands in his hood pockets, his eyes glazed over with depression, that was until he spotted a girl a short distance away. She was leaning out a window, looking through a pair of binoculars with a smile on her face. Marco curious, decided to stand beside her, his eyes following her own lingering gaze, as he realized he was looking out into the lush palace gardens, feeling quite surprised when he spotted Star talking to the gardener about something. Confused, he tried to see any other points of interest below, but the girl was definitely watching Star, her gaze matching up with her perfectly. “Oh my gosh, are you Marco?” The boy swerved as he saw that the girl had finally noticed him next to her, lowering the binoculars enough so that Marco was finally able to get a good look at her.

The girl in front of him was not a maid or servant, at least not one he had ever seen. She was a teenager, about Marco's age, with short black hair done up in twin ponytails, a pair of obviously fake horns pocking up at the top of her head. She wore thick, red wire-framed glasses, her eyes shining with wonder as she stared at Marco with huge grin on her face, showing off her braces. Her face was covered in small heart dots, though Marco couldn't tell if they were stickers or some kind of Mewman-based acne, her real purple hearts contorting as she gave the boy a wide, creepy grin. She wore a plain purple t-shirt with fake wings glued to her back, a little star printed on the front, a blue skirt and dark purple leggings, matched with a pair of purple sneakers.

“Umm, yes. Who are you?” he asked, cautiously looking her up and down.

“Oh my gosh,” the girl replied, pulling a camera out of nowhere and taking a picture of Marco, rendering the boy blind for a moment as the flash made Marco flinch at the sudden intrusion on his senses. “I can't believe Star took another one of them in, I mean she's just the coolest!” she continued, looking at the digital render of the photo on her camera.

Marco rubbed his eyes, trying to clear his vision, before staring at the girl with a lost look. “What are you-”

“And look,” the girl said, turning the camera so Marco could now see the digital photos as she sorted through them. “I have a whole bunch of pictures of you with Star, like this one,” the camera showed a picture of Marco trying on one of his prized hoodies, Star giving him an approving smile, a sloth taking his measurements behind him, though part of the picture was obscured by what seemed to be a piece of fabric in the way.

“Wait was that in Quest Buy?” Marco asked in shock.

“Uh huh,” the girl replied, before flipping to another picture. “Oh, oh, here's one with you in it.” The girl was right, Marco was in this shot as well, collapsed into Star's arms holding her tightly as behind them a group of panicked guards tried to put out a flaming corn field. Again the picture was slightly obscured, this time by what seemed to be the inside of a bush.

But before Marco had a chance to comment the girl had already gone on to the next picture. “And here's one of you two hugging, and here's another one of you two hugging, and here's well... you're hugging in most of them.” Marco blinked as picture after picture flashed by on the small screen, every single one showing Star and Marco together (hugging mostly) and all of them either blocked by something or far out of range, as if the girl was taking them from odd locations.  

“How did you get all of these?” Marco asked, trying to recount ever seeing the complete stranger in front of him before.

“Oh I sneak in here all the time,” she said simply, never taking her eyes off her camera as she continued to flip through picture after picture.

“But aren't there guards and stuff?”

“Yeah, but I can sneak past them pretty easily, I have all of their routines completely memorized, as well as Star's complete princess schedule. It's really nothing for Star's biggest fan. I mean they don't call me StarFan13 for nothing.”

Star has fans, Marco thought. And one of them actually calls herself StarFan13? But what he actually said was, “Isn't that kinda dangerous?”

The fan girl shrugged. “It's worth the risk to get to see Star.”

Unfortunately, as strange as it was, Marco was inclined to agree, guards or not, he would do pretty much anything himself if it was for Star. Still this did seem a bit weirder considering Star wasn't aware of the almost constant presence following her all through her day it seemed. “Does Star know about this?” Marco asked.

“Of course! Star knows everything!” the girl replied with admiration, looking up some from her camera as her eyes twinkled. This did ease Marco's mind a little.

“Wait look!” StarFan screamed, grabbing onto Marco and pulling him closer so he could see what she was seeing, the two now watching as Star used her wand to try and repair a couple of flowers and plants that had apparently been destroyed, Marco noticing that the spot looked like the same one he and Star had been at the night of the dance. The girl took this opportunity to snap a couple of pictures of Star's incredible display, Marco's eyes just shining in admiration as his bestie confidently waved her wand, instantly repairing all damages done to the flora around her.

“Wow, Star is so amazing!” Marco sighed.

“Oh my gosh, yes! And now I have even more pictures of Star using her magic!”

“Can I see?” Marco asked excitedly, holding out a hand for the camera. StarFan nodded vigorously, handing over the camera.

“Sure just be careful not to-” There was a bright flash, Marco screaming as he went blind once again, nearly losing hold of the camera. “-blind yourself,” she finished needlessly.

Marco waited until his vision cleared, before looking over all the photos, impressed with how many shots he was able to take of his bestie. “Wow these are all really good, StarFan!” He paused, the name still sounding somewhat fake and strange to him. But he quickly snapped out of it, as soon as the next picture rendered. “Oooh, here's one of the dance!” Marco's eyes shined as he stared at a picture of him and Star all dressed up, twirling around the room, a bright light making both of them glow, the smile on Star's face, making Marco's whole chest flutter. “Wow, she looks so beautiful,” he said to himself, more than to the fan girl looking over his shoulder.

“That is one of my absolute favorite pieces,” StarFan said, proudly. “See everyone else got their pictures from their magic mirrors, but I actually got mine in real life.”

“Well, it all looks great!” Marco praised, handing the camera back over to the hyper girl. “You've got a picture of pretty much everything here.”

“Awww, that's so sweet of you to say,” StarFan said blushing. “Now all I need is one of you and Star kissing and my collection will pretty much be complete!”

Marco blinked. Kiss? “What's that?” Marco asked the girl, his curiosity peaked. He was sure he had never heard the word before, but it sounded like it was something he should be doing with Star.

StarFan's mouth dropped open in shock, leaning in super close to the boy, making him feel instantly unsettled. “Oh my gosh, you don't know what that is?!” she asked, unable to hide her joy as her eyes started to shimmer, Marco practically able to see the wheels turning in her head.

“Ummm, no...” he asked hesitantly, feeling put-off by the girl's bizarre behavior. “Should I?”

Before StarFan could respond, the two teens heard the sound of shuffling feet, echoing off the cold stone steps, and a voice yell, “I think she went this way?!”

“She's not getting away this time!” another voice shouted, sounding close. There was a short moment of silence between the two, as Marco and StarFan shared a quick look, the fan girl still ridiculously close to the boy, who was leaning back awkwardly. Then suddenly she shouted, “Gotta go!” snapping another picture of the boy, the boy going blind for the third time that day, rubbing his eyes as he tried to clear his vision.

Meanwhile, StarFan13 quickly ran over to the nearest laundry shoot, throwing it open and jumping down, sliding all the way to the subbasement, where no doubt Sir Lavabo would be awaiting her for three o'clock tea.

The guards finally made it around the corner, Dex (who was in the lead) took the opportunity to pounce the intruder, knocking both of them to the ground, the trespasser releasing a girlie scream on the way down. “Ha,” the guard gloated his victory, turning his captive over onto their back, grinning ear to ear with satisfaction. “We got you this time, you little- MARCO?!”

Dex did a double take as he saw not the face of their frequent girl intruder, but instead the princess' young hoodie wearing friend, looking dizzy and dazed from getting thrown uncomfortably to the ground. Jak and the rest of the guards caught up with their companion, Jak's mouth dropping open in shock. “Marco! You're the intruder!”

Dex sighed, face-palming. “No, Jak, we got the wrong person,” he explained, standing to his feet and helping the flustered boy up. “Sorry about that, Marco. We thought you were someone else.” He tried to dust the boy off as best as he could, Marco just blinking as he tried to get his still-spotty vision back.

“Ugh, what hit me?” he asked groggily, rubbing the back of his head tenderly.

“Dex did,” Jak explained, his fellow guard shooting him a glare.

“Did you happen to see a young girl pass through here?” another guard asked the flustered boy.

“Ummm...” Marco considered telling the guards the truth but thought better of it, not wanting to get the girl in any trouble. “No. Haven't seen anyone. Just been standing here, alone, in this hallway... all by myself.” He gave them a wide grin, chuckling nervously, every guard raising their eyebrows suspiciously, except for Jak who simply nodded in understanding. “Okay let us know if you see anything,” he said.

“Well,” Dex sighed. “Looks like we'll just have to continue our search elsewhere. Come on, guys.”

With that, the guards marched off, preparing to search another part of the castle, leaving Marco on his own. He looked out the window surprised to see Star had already left, the gardener returning to his normal tasks, the royal moving on to her next pressing matter. His thoughts were blubbing around in his head, trying to make sense of the new word the girl had mentioned to him. What was a kiss anyways? He felt a need to know, needed at least one of his pestering questions to finally be answered. If he couldn't learn anything else that day, at least he could find out what that word meant. Marco smiled to himself.

And he knew just the person to ask.

…

“What's a kiss?”

Jackie did a spit take, spewing her drink half-way across the room, Marco flinching at the strange reaction from his normally calm skater friend. She coughed for a second trying to clear her tight airways, her face the picture of startled. “W-What?!” Jackie managed to cough out. The two had sat down for a quick bite to eat at Marco's favorite restaurant, the hooded boy asking her if he could talk to her about something, alone. Or, more specifically, without Janna, the hooded boy concerned about how his creepy friend would react to his question, even though it seemed he should have been more concerned about how Jackie would react. Then again he had blurted it out the second the two had gotten comfortable, his bad timing putting Jackie half-way between a gulp of water, making her choke on her drink from the unexpected question.

“A-A kiss,” Marco repeated, leaning a little away from the white-haired girl, looking both confused and a little grossed out by her reaction.

“Umm,” the two turned to see Kelly standing over their table, holding a tray of food, giving Jackie a concerned look. “Is everything alright here?”

“Yeah, we're fine. Thanks Kelly,” the boy responded cheerfully, Jackie still too busy coughing to answer.

“Really?” Kelly said, raising an eyebrow at the boy. “Cause your friend just sprayed one of the other customers.” The girl pointed to a dripping wet Mewman behind her, both Marco and Jackie giving her sheepish looks.

“Miss!” the Mewman yelled to Kelly. “Towel please!”

“In a second, sir,” Kelly politely responded, shooting him a smile before turning back to her two friends.

“Sorry for the trouble,” Jackie apologized, having finally gotten her throat clear.

“Yeah, it was more my fault than anything,” Marco added, rising from his seat and grabbing his napkin. “If you want I can help you-”

Kelly silenced him, grabbing onto the boy's arm. “That's not necessary. Cleaning up other people's messes is my job. Just maybe be a little more careful next time, okay?” She eyed them both, questioningly. Jackie and Marco nodded, the boy taking his seat once again.

“Misssss!” the customer yelled rudely, quickly becoming upset at being ignored. “Towel?!”

Kelly rolled her eyes. “Unbelievable, some people,” she muttered under her breath, before turning back to the customer with a smile. “I will be with you in just a moment, sir. A little patience, please.”

“But I'm soaking wet!”

“And I'm in the middle of a conversation,” she responded, her voice losing some of its sweetness. “So please wait your turn.” The man crossed his arms, huffing with annoyance.

“Not much for customer service, are you?” Jackie asked, trying to hide her smile.

“Well it has been a day,” Kelly sighed, leaning against the table. “And despite the fact that both me and Tad technically work here, I always end up covering his shift for him.”

“Where is Tad?” Marco asked, looking around.

“Same place he always is,” Kelly said, her eyes jumping up to the top of her head, Jackie and Marco just now noticing the snoring face of Kelly's boyfriend.

“You could always wake him up, y'know,” Jackie pointed out.

“Yeah I know, but he's so adorable when he's sleeping,” Kelly said, with a loving sigh. “Besides at this rate, I'll be promoted to head chef in no time.”

“Wait, you're a cook!” Marco shouted, excitedly.

“Yep,” Kelly said, proudly. “Someday soon... hopefully. I'm not sure how much longer I can deal with rude customers like that guy.” She pointed behind her.

“I can still hear you!” the Mewman yelled with annoyance.

“Mind your own business!” the girl shot back.

“H-Huh?” Tad groggily said, all the yelling waking him from his slumber. “What's up, babe? Is our shift over?”

“No, Tad,” Kelly said sweetly, shooting her boyfriend a sugary smile. “Just some jerky customer.”

“HEY!” the customer screamed.

“Want me to take care of it for you, so you can talk to your friends,” Tad offered, the two ignoring the Mewman's outburst.

“Really, would you?” Kelly asked, with a relived sigh.

“Sure, babe. Anything for you.” With that, Tad floated off to try and console the angered customer.

“So anyways, what were you two talking about?” Kelly asked, taking the opportunity of a break to get a quick sip of water.

“Oh right,” Marco said, regaining focus on their conversation once again. “I was just asking Jackie what a kiss was.”

Kelly spit out her drink, coating the already soaked Mewman with more liquid, as Tad needlessly tried to dab it up with a towel. “Oh come on!!” the man screamed, rising out of his seat and sloshing out of the restaurant.

But the attention returned to the skater once again, as the door slammed shut and Tad went back to moping up the mess, both teens eyes digging into her skin, awaiting her answer. “Well...” Jackie started, trying to think of the best way to respond.

“Don't you think you're asking the wrong person?” Kelly pointed out, interrupting Jackie. The white-haired girl gave her a questioning look, until the other shot her a wink.

“What do you mean?” Marco asked, not seeing the little exchange between the girls.

“Well, no offense to Jackie or anything, but this just seemed like something you would be asking Star,” Kelly said with a shrug.

“You think?” Marco asked, cocking his head to the side.

“She does have a point,” Jackie said, playing along. “She would explain it much better than I ever could.”

“Well I was going to ask her,” the boy explained. “But she's been so busy lately.”

“Come on, she can't work twenty-four seven. Isn't there some time you two could just sit and talk?” Kelly asked.

Marco thought for a moment, before realization hit him, jumping out of his seat and slamming his hands down on the table. “What time is it?!” Marco asked, looking between the two girls quickly, who had leaned back away from the table and were giving him confused looks from his sudden outburst. Kelly partially recovered, as she pulled out her cell phone, checking the time. “Umm, almost seven,” she said.

“It'll be sunset soon,” Jackie added, catching on what Marco was onto.

“I gotta go,” Marco said hurriedly, excusing himself as he headed for the door.

“Wait, you haven't even ordered anything yet!” Kelly yelled after the boy.

“No time!” Marco shouted back, not even bothering to look back. The rushing boy slammed the door to the restaurant open, which accidentally knocked into one of the empty outside tables, sending one of the discarded drinks flying, where it landed directly in the face of the same drenched Mewman from before. Marco yelled a quick apology over his shoulder, his eyes on the darkening sky in front of him and his thoughts on Star. The victimized Mewman released a loud scream, yelling in frustration, “That's it! I'm going back to the Kingdom of Unlikely Spider Bites, where it's safe!” With that the frustrated Mewman stormed away, leaving a trail of liquefied footprints in his wake.

Meanwhile, inside Jackie and Kelly just stared at the restaurant door, Kelly in clear shock. “Well that was certainly strange, even for Marco,” Kelly said, trying to break the tension. “Where's he off to in such a hurry?”

“He and Star meet up every evening to watch the sunset together,” Jackie explained.

“Aww,” Kelly cooed. “How romantic. No one wonder he took off in such a hurry.”

“Yep,” Jackie agreed. “But do me a favor and don't mention our little conversation to Janna.”

Kelly hesitated before answering. “Wellll, that's gonna be a little bit difficult,” she finally said, shooting the skater a guilty look.

Jackie gave her hairy friend a blank stare, before saying in an unamused tone. “She's been here the whole time, hasn't she?”

“Yep!” Janna said, setting down in the seat next to Jackie's with a smirk, putting her feet up on the table and leaning precariously back in the chair. “She has.”

“You were spying on us,” Jackie said, in a scolding tone, which caused Janna to scoff.

“Not much spying needed. I could hear you three from the other side of the restaurant,” she said, munching on a breadstick.

“So I suppose you want me to give you the twenty bucks right now,” Jackie said.

“You could,” Janna said with an unamused shrug. “Or we could go see how our little set-up pays off.”

Jackie gave the smirking girl a level-headed stare, the two matching wits for a moment, before Jackie questioned, “Ours?”

“Who do you think told me to come over here in the first place?” Kelly pointed out, putting a hand on her hips, Jackie shooting Janna a glare. “Which by the way, about my payment?” Kelly added, with a hinting tone.

“No worries, Kells. I'll get you that forbidden recipe you asked for,” Janna said, shooting the green-haired girl a reassuring smile.

“Uh babe, little help?” Tad called, surrounded by hungry customers all begging and demanding supplement from the usually chill hair, who was now feeling overwhelmed with too much responsibility.

“Welp, duty calls,” Kelly said to the two, confidently pulling out her pen and paper with a flourish. “So will you be taking your order to go, ladies?”

Jackie and Janna shared a look, the creepy girl giving her reluctant roommate a shrug, letting her know it was her call. Jackie took a deep breath, before giving the young waitress her answer.

...

The sun had already begun to set as Marco made it up to the large balcony he and Star always met at, surprised to see the girl already there. Star seemed like she was in a daze, her eyes lost in the bright red of the evening sky, never even turning to indicate she heard him as he approached. “Hey Star!” he greeted, placing a hand on her shoulder. She screamed smacking his hand away and turning, wand already glowing with magic energy. But upon seeing the startled face of her bestie, she instantly dropped her guard, putting a hand to her pounding heart.

“Marco, please don't sneak up on me like that!” she managed to choke out, in between gasps of breath.

“S-Sorry,” Marco apologized, still slightly unnerved by Star's reaction. “Your getting better with it, though,” he added and Star gave him a quizzical look.

“Better with what?”

“Your wand,” he explained, pointing at the magical device. “You seem a lot more confident with it now.”

Star gave him a shy smile, immediately hiding the heirloom inside her cloud purse. “Well I don't know if I'd say that,” she muttered, her cheeks just barely tinted pink, giving a nervous shrug. But she was rendered speechless as Marco took her hands into his own, giving her a smile that sent shivers down her spine. “I would,” he said softly, his bright brown eyes staring deep into her own, making her whole heart flutter. Knock it off, Star, she mentally scolded herself. Before he catches on.

“Thanks,” she squeaked with embarrassment, trying to will her blush away, but it only made it worsen as Marco took the seat next to her, Star able to feel the warmth coming off of him, just the slightest bit of space between them... Stop, she reminded herself, trying to convince her heart to slow it's pulse to a more normal level.

She had been like this ever since the other night, since she realized her feelings toward her bestie, every little interaction from the boy leaving her a nervous, fluttering mess. She had done her best to keep a distance from him, well as much as she could from her super clingy Marco, still feeling unsure with all the new (or perhaps they were old) emotions she now had toward her best friend. Oskar's words never once left her mind, his suggestion to tell the boy outright making her feel lost. She did want to tell him, now that she knew her feelings for him were real, but she wasn't sure how. She was having trouble working up the nerve to do so, her constant blushing and fast-beating heart making it very difficult to say anything around him now, much less confessing she had a giant crush on him.

Still he didn't seem to notice, acting like his normal, cheerful self as he settled himself down next to her, his eyes shining as he stared at the red, fast-darkening sky before him, his hand absentmindedly landing on her own, making Star's whole arm tingle with the sensation of his soft skin. But she made no move to stop him, just letting herself enjoy the moment, her heart slowing a little as the two just watched the sunset in silence.

What Star didn't notice was Marco kept casting glances at her every so often, trying to work up the nerve to ask her the one question that was on his mind, wanting to avoid Jackie's reaction if at all possible, best to ease her into it gently. The problem was, he had no idea how to go about doing that.

Finally, he took a deep breath. “Star?”

Star jumped at the sound of her name, turning to see Marco staring at her with a questioning gaze and she felt her heart thump away in her chest once again, threatening to escape her small frame. “Y-Yes?”

“So, I met someone today, a girl, StarFan13, she said she knew you,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Oh yeah,” Star said thoughtfully, nodding, remembering her biggest fan who she often caught sneaking into the castle, she was sweet and well-meaning but she could come on a little strong to people who didn't know her all that well. Star hoped she hadn't been too much for Marco. “I do know her,” she hesitantly admitted. “She can be a bit...” Star bit her lip, trying to think of the best way to phrase it. “Crazy. I hope she didn't act too wild.”

Marco shook his head. “Nah. She was pretty cool, actually,” he admitted with a shrug. “Strangeee, but cool.”

Star smiled. Of course he liked her, Star thought, remembering that Marco was always friendly and open-minded, if a bit shy, towards others. Should have never have doubted him.

“Anyway, she said something to me and I wanted to ask you what it meant,” he continued slowly, looking anxious about telling the girl, Star able to feel his fingers nervously twitching from on top of her own.

Oh no, Star thought, feeling slightly concerned. Could she have told him about Star's crush? She did always seem to know everything about Star, a fact she would not hesitate to point out. Or worse, could she have told him something about the monsters? Though if she had, she doubted Marco would be acting like his usual, cheerful self. “O-Okay, shoot,” she said, with a tiny nod, a lump implanting itself tightly at the back of her throat. The boy took a deep breath, obviously preparing himself to ask the question, Star unknowingly holding her own.

“I was wondering what a kiss was?” he explained, keeping a close eye on her for any negative or strange reaction. But the girl had no reaction at all, her whole body freezing up, her eyes wide, but blank, and her mouth sealed shut. She was obviously not expecting the question, as her whole face grew redder than his hoodie.

“W-What?!” she finally stuttered, her face retaining its red hue.

“Umm, a kiss,” he tried again, sounding even less sure now than before. “She asked me if I had kissed anyone yet, and I wasn't sure what she meant by it.” He purposely left out the part about Star, unsure about mentioning it to her for some reason. There was an awkward pause as Star just stared at him blankly. “Sooo, do you know what it means?” he pressed, feeling awkward and impatient in a strange mix.

“Y-Yeah, right,” Star finally said, recovering some from her initial shock, managing to will her blush away some and form comprehensible words once more, trying not to act too thrown off guard by the unexpected question. “It's when two people put their lips up against one another,” she quickly added, mentally trying to calm her racing heart.

Marco's mouth dropped open, his eyes wide with fear. “Does it... hurt?” he asked, with concern and Star couldn't help but laugh at his cuteness, feeling some of the awkwardness fading some as a familiar warmth filled her insides.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “It's supposed to feel good, actually. It's a way for people to show how much they care.”

“Oh,” was all Marco said, his brain trying to wrap itself around this new information. “Have you ever kissed anyone before?” he finally asked, his brown eyes studying her face quizzically, making it hard for her to breath.

Star hesitated, before answering. “No, I haven't actually.”

“Why is that?” Marco asked, sounding genuinely confused and Star merely shrugged in response.

“Haven't found the right person yet,” she answered, while in her head she added, Except for you, but I'm too afraid to ask. Star grew quiet after that, trying not to think of how much she wanted to kiss him right then, the urge almost overwhelming as her gaze remained trapped within Marco's bright brown eyes, feeling a pull toward him and his soft, smiling lips, already beginning to close the distance between them. But she finally regained control of herself, pulling away from him quickly and turning back out to the fast-setting sun, her smile dropping instantly, feeling anger at herself, though she was unsure what she was more upset about: the fact that she had just tried to kiss her friend or the fact that she hadn't had the guts to go through with it.

Marco took a long look at his bestie, unable to stop himself from worrying over her and her strange behavior. Maybe it was just him, but a second ago, she had seemed like she was leaning in toward him. But before she could go through with whatever it was, she had instead turned away, pulling her hand out of his grasp and refusing to meet his eyes, staring out at the sun with a troubled look in her own eyes, leaving Marco concerned she was upset. “Star?” he said, trying to regain her attention, but she didn't even turn her head in his direction.

“The sunset is really beautiful tonight, huh?” she whispered nervously, giving a little awkward chuckle, obviously trying to change the subject, Marco instantly feeling his heart pound in response. She was upset. But why? Was it because he had asked about the kiss? Was she sad because she had never gotten one? It was obviously something special, considering how all the girl's had reacted at the mere mention of the act, was Star feeling hurt and unappreciated because no one had given her one yet? Marco definitely didn't want her to feel that way, she was so special and amazing, and she deserved to know that.

“Star?” Marco said again, softer than before, this time managing to capture the girl's attention as she looked over to him. And as the two locked gaze once more, Marco found himself lost in his friend's  bright, blue orbs, as a gentle breeze sent her golden hair tumbling behind her, the light of the red sky reflecting off of it beautifully, making his heart skip a beat.

“What is it, Marco?” Star asked, stunned by the determination she saw in his eyes. But he didn't answer, instead taking in a deep, shaky breath before he leaned in toward her, closing the distance between them completely.

Time seemed to slow as Marco's lips enclosed around Star's, the girl's eyes widening in surprise, unable to believe that this was really happening to her, that her best friend, her crush, her Marco was kissing her. It felt unreal, almost like some big dream. But dream or not, Star couldn't deny it felt amazing, loving every second of the breathtaking experience, relishing in the taste of Marco's lips against her own. And so rather than fight it, she gave in, closing her eyes and losing herself to the new and wonderful experience.

Marco as well, was loving every second of the kiss, that same, warm emotion that he had been feeling for weeks, now spread through him, making his whole body tingle and his heart feel like it might burst with joy. He felt amazing, his every nerve alive and super-charged, his brain sluggish and slow, unable to function as Star's lips began to move gently against his own. Both were so caught up in their combined act that neither noticed their twin hearts and suns simultaneously glow white, the bright light matching that of the forgotten sunset behind them.

Finally, after what felt to the two like a lifetime, Star pulled away, putting a hand to her tingling lips, her eyes wide and her cheeks still blushing bright red. As the two separated, their cheek marks returned to their normal hue, both too dazed by what just transpired to even notice. For a few glorious seconds, they just stared at each other, a million emotions flowing through both of their startled bodies at once.

But Star recovered first (kinda), asking in a breathless daze, “What was that?!”

“I-” Marco started, but found his throat too tight to continue, his eyes wider than ever, just staring at Star's blushing face, completely stunned, all his startled brain able to think, was how great that kiss had felt and how much he wanted to do it again. “You said you'd never had one, so I just thought...”

Star was stupefied, unable to believe that that had actually just happened. Marco had just kissed her! After all that time of fighting the urge, Marco had been the one to make the first move. It felt crazy, it felt insane, it had to be a dream. And yet, the tingling in her lips and pounding in her heart seemed to prove that all of this was real. Marco was her first kiss! She felt overwhelmed, her heart threatening to overflow with all the emotions running rampant through her fragile body. She needed to get away, needed time to think and work out her feelings and slow her racing heart and she couldn't do that with the boy's bright stare burning into her skin. Without even thinking, she jumped to her feet, keeping her eyes off of the boy as she muttered with embarrassment, “I-I have to go. It's getting late. See you tomorrow.”

Before the boy could even respond, the girl turned and ran, disappearing from view as she exited off the balcony, leaving the flustered boy alone with his thoughts.

He hesitated for a moment, maybe two, his legs so wobbly and unstable it took him a bit before he was able to stand again, as he started off after the girl, her reaction unexpected and slightly confusing to the boy. Was that a normal way girls acted after you kissed them? Regardless if it was, he needed to catch up to her and make sure everything was okay.

“Marco.” Marco froze instantly recognizing the voice behind him, as he slowly turned, shocked as he looked into the three familiar faces he had been sure he would never see again. There, hovering over him, was Beard Deer, Bearicorn, and Spikeballs, who were all giving him elated smiles.

“Guys!” Marco screamed, throwing his around the nearest monster he could find, which turned out to be Beard Deer, all thoughts ceasing in that moment, the boy just overjoyed to see his family once more. “I can't believe you're all here! How did you even find me?”

Beard Deer lovingly ruffled Marco's hair, as he simply answered, “We'd never let you go so easily.”

But the sweet moment ended, as Marco backed away, feeling guilty, the three monsters sharing a look of concern, upon seeing the Mewman's sad face. “Marco, are you okay?” Bearicorn asked.

“I'm... I'm sorry,” Marco muttered, keeping his eyes on the floor rather than them, trying to hide his rising tears. “Please don't hate me. I didn't mean to leave. I-”

“It's okay, Marco,” Beard Deer interrupted, putting a claw on his shoulder and bending down so he was level with the boy. “We're not angry with you.”

Marco sniffed, wiping the tears from his eyes with the back of his sleeve, looking up at the monster with hopeful eyes. “Really?”

“Of course not,” Bearicorn supplied. “It's not your fault Buff Frog teamed up with the Mewmans to kidnap you.”

Marco took a step back, pulling out of Beard Deer's grasp, giving all three a confused look. “What?” he squeaked, feeling a nervous energy begin to build inside him. What were they talking about? “That's not... what...” His voice drifted off, his mind tumbling as he tried to make sense of it all.

“Look it's okay, everything will be alright,” Beard Deer said with a reassuring smile. “We're here to take you back now.”

The deer monster took a step closer, reaching out a claw, but Marco stepped back, shaking his head, shocking the three monsters, Beard Deer freezing in place. “Marco?” Bearicorn whispered, his voice shaking slightly.

Marco flinched at the hurt tone, but made no move closer. He wasn't sure what he should do, suddenly overwhelmed with decisions he didn't want to have to make. If he went back that would mean facing Toffee, Marco felt his gut clench of the thought of seeing the lizard again. And if he left, he would never see Star or the others again, that realization followed by an even tighter twist to his insides. But still, he didn't want to hurt his family. They were important to him, he had been missing them so badly, more than he had even realized. They just seemed to have their story mixed up a little, maybe if he could clear all this up for them and help them realize it was just a big misunderstanding they would let him stay.

“Look, I appreciate you guys coming all the way out here for me,” the boy started, trying to keep his voice level and steady. “But I'm not in danger and I wasn't kidnapped. Buff Frog helped bring me here so I could meet the other Mewmans and now that I have I'm not sure if I want to leave. They're all really nice and... I met someone who I really don't want to leave.” Marco blushed at the last bit, his eyes twinkling like his bestie's namesake, as he thought of her and the kiss they had just shared. “Speaking of which I need to catch with her so...” He turned to leave, only to stop seeing Lobster Claws and Three Eyed Potato Baby behind him, blocking his exit. He felt his heart begin to pound in fear as his realized that the monsters had just purposely surrounded him, trapping him between them. But why? “Um, guys,” Marco said, trying to keep the nervous edge out of his voice. “What's going on?” He turned to Beard Deer for an explanation, but the monster in question refused to look at him, his eyes on the ground, his claws clenched into tight fists.

“So he was right after all,” the deer monster muttered and Marco felt his heart stop at the seriousness in his tone, all signs of friendliness gone from the group.

“Who was right?” the boy asked.

“Those rotten Mewmans actually hypnotized you with their magic, just like Toffee said,” Beard Deer continued.

“Hypnotized?” Marco whispered, his whole body trembling, taking a few steps away from the clearly upset monster. But the monsters just ignored the boy, all sharing looks with each other, an uncomfortable tension filling the area.

“What do we do?” Lobster Claws asked with clear concern, though he already knew the answer. They all did. Marco turned in the crustaceans direction, shooting him a pleading look, which the lobster did his best to ignore.

“We take him with us,” Beard Deer responded, his tone hard. Before Marco could even think about the statement, Beard Deer and Bearicorn surged forward, moving so quickly that Marco didn't even have time to scream before he was lifted off the ground held firmly up by the two strong monsters. Marco became frantic as the initial shock wore off, kicking his feet uselessly above the ground, trying to break free from their iron grasp. “Let me go!” the boy screamed, his mind screeching to him to get away and his heart pounding in agreement. Star. Jackie. Someone! Please come help me out of this!

The other monsters tried to shush the screaming child, looking around nervously, afraid he would attract the attention of the Mewmans. “Shhh, Marco, calm down,” Lobster Claws tried, but Marco was too panicked to listen.

“No! Help! Sta-!” the boy started to cry, but was quieted as Bearicorn reluctantly clapped a claw over his mouth, muffling the hooded boy's screams. The two tried to hold him as gently but firmly as possible without hurting him, but he was squirming so much they were having trouble keeping him in place.

“Marco, please,” Bearicorn begged the boy, feeling guilty for scaring him so much, even if he wasn't in his right mind. “Don't make this more difficult than it has to be.” But the boy continued to struggle, his muffled screams escaping from beneath the bear's paw as he desperately called out Star's name, hoping she would somehow hear him and come running, while in his mind he still couldn't believe any of this was real. One moment he had been sharing a blissful moment with his bestie, the next he was in a nightmarish situation as his own family turned on him, trying to kidnap him and forcefully drag him back to Toffee. With that thought, Marco struggled anew against the iron grasp that held him, as Beard Deer addressed the rest of the guilt-stricken monsters, trying to keep his own face from showing the hurt that was eating away at his insides, barking, “What are you idiots just standing there for, get that portal opened, asap!”

Suddenly there was a loud scream behind them, all the monster turning to see Spike Balls, collapse to the ground, as a beanie-wearing girl stood over him, her arms crossed as she glared at the group of monsters in front of her with no fear. The monsters were of course in shock at this new development, unable to believe that a tiny little girl had just knocked down their strongest monster in half a second, Marco stopped his struggling as he found himself unable to think of a time when he was happier to see his creepy friend, as Janna's eyes narrowed on the two monsters holding the boy. “Alright I'm gonna give you all two seconds to let go of my friend, before I start breaking bones,” she hissed, cracking her knuckles menacingly.

None of the monster knew how to react to that, the monsters holding Marco taking an uncomfortable step back, trying to keep their fear from showing, Marco feeling their grip tighten on him slightly. “Yeah, well, it's four against one, girlie, and you're outmatched,” Beard Deer stated, trying to keep his tone sharp, as he glared at the girl.

“Yeah,” Lobster Claws pitched in, side-stepping between the captive Marco and his rescuer, Three Eyed Potato Baby doing the same, as the crustacean snapped his claws at the imposing girl in a threatening manner. “So why don't you just turn around and pretend like you never saw us... or else.”

But Janna didn't seem at all frightened by the weak threat, as she clicked her tongue, shaking her head in disapproval, saying nonchalantly, “Guess I'm taking the 'or else'.” With that she began stepping closer, every step making the monsters more and more anxious. But their anxiety was quickly replaced with disbelief as the girl's body began to transform, her hair and fangs growing in length and her skin turning purple, her narrowed eyes glowing an alarmingly green color, digging into the monsters' skin and making them all shudder.

“She's an Impure,” Beard Deer said shakily, finally realizing the dire situation they had just found themselves in.

But Lobster Claws tried not to show fear as he surged forward with a yell trying to grab her with his pincers, but the girl side-stepped the attack, punching the crustacean right in the face, sending him flying backwards, the last thing the lobster thinking before he blacked was how strange it was that a girl that small could pack such a big punch. The other monsters were thinking the same thing, as they watched the lobster collapse to the floor, unconscious, the girl not even batting an eye as she turned back to the rest of the monsters with a hard glare, her eyes glowing a dark, evil green.

“Now let's try that again,” the half-monster hissed, her smirking, cocky nature fading as she glared glowing daggers of hate at the group in front of her, quickly losing patience with the annoying monsters. “Let Marco go or...” She  took a threatening step closer, every monster gulping in fear, but neither Beard Deer or Bearicorn released their hold on the boy, not even the threat of facing the terrifying Impure able to make them give up their young charge again.

Beard Deer looked over to Potato Baby, shouting, “What are you waiting for, idiot?! Get her!” The monster in question pointed at himself, with a look of fear, giving a confused garble. “Yes you!” Beard Deer barked, the intention in the monster's tone clearer than his words. “Keep her distracted so we can get Marco away!”

The potato-like monster turned to the girl with a new determination, willing to make the sacrifice for Marco. He stepped closer to the girl, vowing to not let her get the upper hand on him, giving a threatening and long-winded speech about protecting Marco and how he wouldn't fall so easily, which unfortunately only Marco could understand, Janna simply raising an eyebrow at the speech-inclined monster. “I have no idea what you just said,” she admitted. “But you're in my way so you need to move.” She got down into a fighting stance.

The monster gave a quick, declining garble.

“Okay that one I caught,” she said, before she took a quick swing at the monster, her opponent barely having time to duck out of the way to avoid the super-charged fist.

The fight continued, Potato Baby struggling to hold off the girl as she continued her assault doing his best to avoid her punches and kicks trying to stall for as long as he could, while meanwhile Beard Deer turned to Bearicorn in a panic. “Quick open up a portal, now!” he hissed and Marco started to struggle again, screaming for Janna from beneath the bear monsters paw, trying his best to stall for time. “Marco, please st- OW!”

Suddenly, Beard Deer felt a heavy weight smashing into the top of his head, releasing his hold on Marco as he collapsed to his knees with a scream. He turned, anger and rage fueling him as spotted another girl this one with white hair and freckles, determination shining in her eyes. But he barely had time to process this as she swung something at his face, the world disappearing in a flash of bright colors.

Jackie took a step back, panting, as the monster fell unconscious at her feet, trying to keep her nerve as she continued to hold her skateboard up like a make-shift bat. Bearicorn, who was now struggling to keep a good hold on Marco, holding the boy only by the paw clapped over his mouth, reached over and grabbed the girl's arm, pulling her closer and making her drop her skateboard. “Hey who do you think you are?!” he growled in anger, Jackie trying to pull her arm free from the monster's iron grasp, Marco feeling anger and fear as he helplessly watched his friend getting taken too.

The hooded boy didn't even hesitate as he stomped down as hard as he could on the unsuspecting monster's foot, ignoring the short spurt of regret as the bear cried out in pain, releasing both Marco and Jackie at once, grabbing onto his now throbbing foot tightly and hopping around the battlefield, all other thoughts forgotten as he continued to scream in pain, “Ow! Ow! Ow! Owwhh! My sensitive bear paws!”

The two teens seeing their chance, turned to one another as Jackie yelled, “We got to get inside!”

“What about Janna?!” Marco asked, his answer coming a second later as they heard a garbled, pain-filled yell behind them, followed by a crashing sound. “Never mind,” he corrected himself.

The two made a sprint for the door, Jackie only taking the time to grab her skateboard and tucking it securely under her arm. But this didn't go unnoticed as Bearicorn finally started to recover, the pain in his foot subsiding a little, as he spotted Marco and Jackie leaving. He growled again, about to chase after them, until he felt a tiny tap on his shoulder, turning in time to see the smirking Impure giving a little wave, her face almost friendly, her fangs gleaming in the starlight. “You don't want to do that,” she said, her voice hiding just a hint of a cryptic tone.

The monster panicked, cowering in front of her, begging, “I'm sorry! Please don't suck my blood!”

The girl sighed in annoyance, rolling her eyes, as she muttered, “Where did they even come up with that rumor? That's so disgusting.”

“Wait so you're not going to hurt me?” the monster asked, hopefully. But his fear returned as the girl gave him an evil smirk, leaning in a little closer to him.

“I didn't say that.”

Beard Deer and Lobster Claws sat up with equally pain-filled groans, both rubbing their sore heads tenderly, as they tried to make sense of their world once again. “Owww, did we win?”

Suddenly, they heard a loud scream, the two monsters shocked as the raised voice seemed to be getting closer, both turning to see Bearicorn hurtling at them, knocking into both monsters, all three laying in a pile on the floor, groaning in pain.

Janna wiped the dust off her hands, looking quite satisfied with the condition of her opponents, saying smugly, “Well that handles that.” She turned, checking on the condition of her friends, pleased  to see Marco and Jackie watching safely from the doorway of the balcony, Jackie making sure to keep Marco protectively behind her, before returning to the beaten monsters. “So, boys, round two or are we going to call it quits for tonight?”

Potato Baby who had finally regained consciousness, gave a quick persuasive argument via unintelligible garble. “What did he say?” Bearicorn asked the bruised crustacean currently crushing him with a strained tone.

“He said we should retreat for now,” Lobster Claws drunkenly relayed, his head still spinning from getting thrown about... twice.

“I'm with Potato Baby,” Spikeballs pitched in from his position on the floor, raising a spiked hand in the air to show his agreement with the plan.

“Okay fine,” Beard Deer said, pushing the other two monsters off of him so he could stand, rocking uncomfortably from side to side, as he tried to give the girl the most threatening look he could. “But don't think this is the last you'll be seeing of us. You can't hide the kid forever. Marco belongs to us and we will be taking him back.”

Janna said nothing, as the monsters hastily opened up a portal, shuffling uncomfortably through it, as they all disappeared within the swirling vortex, the girl not moving an inch until it closed for good. Finally, she turned, saying to her two friends as they approached, “So...” Her quizzical eyes landed on Marco who looked quite shaken by the events, his eyes filled with emotion, his face a guilty frown, keeping his eyes on the floor as tried his best to ignore both her and Jackie's equally questioning gaze. Finally he risked a look up, his eyes locking with Janna's as she raised an eyebrow at him. “Want to explain what all that was about?”

…

The five monsters panted as they all tried to catch their breath, all of them tenderly massaging their bruises, as they contemplated their failed mission. Beard Deer grunted loudly, slamming a clawed fist into the nearest wall. “Darn it! We were so close!” he shouted in frustration.

“What do we do now?” Lobster Claws asked, worriedly. “We can't just leave Marco there.”

“We're not going to,” Beard Deer said confidently, refusing to give up so easily, his fist shaking with anger.

“What do we tell Master Toffee?” Bearicorn asked.

The deer monster opened his mouth to respond, only to jump hearing a voice call from the shadows, “Tell me what, Bearicorn.”

Every monster turned in fear to see Toffee slither into view with a blank look, his eyes narrowing to slits on the monster he had questioned, who was becoming quite nervous with the killer's eyes on him and him alone. “T-That w-we...” Bearicorn stuttered, afraid of answering honestly.

“We failed,” Beard Deer finished for him, trying to keep his nerve as the lizard turned to him. “Marco refused to come with us, he's under their control just like you said.”

“Then why didn't you take him by force, like I told you you would need to,” Toffee said in a hard tone, Beard Deer almost able to see him smirking from beneath his passive mask.

Beard Deer kept his face emotionless at the comment, but his claws were clenching into fists as he answered, “We tried but some of the Mewmans got the drop on us.”

“One of them was an Impure,” Lobster Claws pitched in helpfully.

“Really,” Toffee said thoughtfully, before going silent, every monster holding their breath, afraid of what their leader was going to do to them. Finally, the lizard spoke. “Well in that case I obviously can't trust you with this mission alone. This is far too important and I can't risk another failure from all of you.”

Every monster flinched at the word 'failure' but Lobster Claws risked a question. “So does this mean we're going after Marco again?”

The lizard smiled, every monster shivering as the room seemed to grow colder. “Yes. Only this time... I will personally oversee his capture.”

[papipopsicle]

DISCO INFERNO

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Genre: fluff, v v slight angst

Summary: In which the usual basketball practice is cancelled, and Billy is surprisingly happy when he finds out why.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of abusive parents, racist father, Steve being a shitty friend.

Words: 3K

feedback is always appreciated

"I actually hate you."

"Love you too." Y/N replied and rolled her eyes as the brunette she called her best friend practically threw his lunch tray against the table top. Nancy jumped at the noise, her wide eyes bouncing from the two then back to Jonathan's hand in hers under the table. "Mind telling me what's made you harbour such strong feelings towards me?"

"You just had to steal the gym on the one day we play basketball, didn't you?" Steve huffed, sending the girl a playful look of annoyance. In all honesty he really didn't mind, it meant he'd have a couple hours free to catch up on an essay due earlier today.

"It's not my fault the school is cheap and the studio now has a crater in the roof from the storm." Y/N pulled at the sleeves of her baby pink bomber jacket and shivered at the thought of leaving the warm confines of Hawkins High School, "Maybe it's a sign that you should join, Stevie, we're always looking to diversify the group with more male dancers."

"Fuck off." The boy shoved Y/N's shoulder lightly with his and the four carried on eating like normal. They were an unlikely group of friends, an ex-flame and ex-friendship turned into a new flame and a new friendship.

The day droned on as it always did and the final bell sounded throughout the building. Kids eagerly ran to their lockers and out the large entrance unable to stay in school for a moment more than necessary, but for Y/N, her day was only just starting. She weaved through the crowds, going against the current and deeper into the school until she found herself in the girl's locker room. Y/N greeted the other girls already there and quickly changed into a pair of pink leggings and a baggy black top, throwing her Hawkins High sweatshirt on top. She tied her y/h/c hair into a ponytail and double knitted her trainer's laces before making her way to the gym.

"Training's cancelled today, Hargrove." Montgomery shouted down the corridor, watching as his friend paused his movements and turned around, "Dancers are taking over until they fix the roof."

"That's bull." Billy groaned, his hand running through his long hair in annoyance. Basketball meant not needing to be a chauffeur for Max and not having his father on his back for another couple hours. Of course he had P.E tomorrow but that didn't make a difference.

Monty shrugged, "Its not like we can do anything, the Principal basically licks Y/L/N's arse for fun."

That stifled Billy. He'd slept with half of the cheer squad by week two in Hawkins. There wasn't a girl in his year he didn't at least know the name of, not that he ever used their name. "Y/L/N?" He asked casually, intrigued by the idea of fresh meat.

"Harrington's girl, Y/N. C'mon, you've seen that ass." The boy joked with a smirk, but when Billy simply knitted his eyebrows together, Montgomery hit the boy's chest out of shock and began walking towards the gym dragging him behind, "Mate, you're about to owe me big time."

The two athletes snuck into the bleachers undetected and as soon as Monty pointed her out as the girl leading the group warm up session, Billy's heart sped up. Of course he recognised her, but he didn't like the reasoning behind it. Sure, she had an amazing body, one the boy next to him clearly enjoyed jerking off to, but it was always tucked safely under Steve's arm in the halls. He was her own personal bodyguard. Billy's memory was still fuzzy from the events at the Byers' house three months ago, but Y/N was vividly part of that disjointed memory.

She demonstrated a host of stretches for the group to mirror as 'Immigrant Song' blasted through the large gymnasium. Both boys were in a trance at that moment and completely forgot that they couldn't play basketball, almost happy about it. Billy found himself in awe at the pure joy lacing the smile on Y/N's face in that moment, like nothing else mattered to her other than living in the moment. The girl dropped into the splits and that's when Billy lost it, his heart racing a million miles an hour at her confidence and finesse.

Montgomery shook his head and patted Billy's shoulder with a chuckle, "I bet she's so fucking dirty when Harrington isn't around to keep her in line, you know, daddy issues, that kind of shit."

The boy kept talking but Billy zoned out, not caring for his remarks. He hadn't even noticed Monty's disappearance for another half an hour after that. It may not have seemed like it, but the blond really was trying to change his ways one step at a time, one of those steps being not talking about or treating women like pieces of meat. It was a work in progress, but Y/N wasn't going to be a step back.

He stayed for the next two hours, sat on the uncomfortable wooden benches in the bleachers, completely mesmerised by the way Y/N moved with so much fluidity and grace. Only towards the end of the session after perfecting the new routine had Y/N burst her little dance bubble long enough to notice Billy. She sent him a warm smile, one he was sure he didn't deserve after what she must have seen at the Byers house, but he didn't think twice before returning it.

The music was all deafening disco apart from the odd Led Zeppelin, Scorpions or Metallica song standing out like garish yellow highlighter on a pristine white page of notes. Billy enjoyed it those though, humming along and forcing himself to hide the grin that tugged at the corners of his lips as he noticed Y/N singing along too. She winked at him and slid to her knees, fully committing to the worlds most embarrassing yet incredible air-guitar solo. Y/N giggled and began the usual end speech encouraging everyone to carry on with as much enthusiasm and all that bullshit.

When she had gathered all her belongings and turned off the stereo, Y/N turned back to the bleachers in hope of seeing Billy still sat there, but he'd somehow left as secretively as he came. She pouted but quickly stopped her mind from going down that route before it even had the chance.

Instead of getting changed back into her earlier clothes, Y/N shoved them into her gym bag and left the girls locker room in search of her ride. It was hailing heavily outside, the small pieces of ice beating at the building's roof and just as she peered out of the window into the car park, lightning struck, thunder following seconds later. Y/N jumped, always skittish in storms. She couldn't see Steve's signature car in its usual spot, even in this weather she'd know his car from anyone's. Surely he wouldn't have left her without at least saying, especially in this weather. But minutes passed and there was no sign of the BMW anywhere.

Y/N groaned and whimpered at the thought of walking in the torrential rain, why had she let Steve convince her into giving her a lift instead of taking her motorbike? At least then she'd get home quicker. Scouring the car park for any other viable options, she noticed Billy's car and honestly couldn't choose which was worse; walking half an hour in this weather and probably dying from the worst cold in history, or asking Billy for a lift. She'd take a hailstorm over his reckless driving any day.

Billy Hargrove was damaged, Y/N didn't know exactly what he'd been through, but it wasn't pleasant. He had now real regard for his own life anymore, let alone other people.

It took a few seconds to gather enough courage to exit the school, and by the time she had, she was soaked to the bone immediately. Y/N heard her name being called over the rain and soon a large black jacket was held above her head as a makeshift umbrella. It was a leather jacket to be exact, Billy's leather jacket. She looked up at him in confusion and was quickly pulled back into the school's foyer.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Billy asked rhetorically and put his jacket over her shoulders in attempts to bring her some warmth, but it only shrouded the girl in his scent. She didn't take any notice of his harsh tone, and instead pulled her hair out of the jackets collar as he continued ranting loudly, "Do you know how dumb it is to walk in this, Y/L/N? You'll freeze before you get home. Harrington will blame himself if you die and then he'll blame me if he finds out I let you walk home in this. I don't need him badgering me about your death for the rest of my life, so, let me drive you home?"

It was more of a request than a question, but either way Y/N had a snarky response lined up as she pulled the jacket closer to her frame, "I'd rather be hit by your car than let you drive me in it, love."

"Fine." Billy's voice came out in a low grumble and he took a step towards the girl, now only centimetres between them, "You can drive."

Y/N's mouth gasped open in shock, Billy was emotionally attached to his car, it was the closest thing he had to a functioning relationship. She didn't know whether it was appropriate to laugh or not, but when he held his keys out on front of her face for her to catch, Y/N raised her eyebrows, "Wait, you're being serious?"

He shrugged with a carefree smirk plastered across his face, jangling the keys a little, "Just take the damn keys before I realise how stupid this is."

"Excuse you, I'm an excellent driver, your baby is in good hands." Y/N smiled widely, one that made the dormant butterflies in Billy's stomach flutter about and do somersaults.

She pinched the metal key ring before he had the chance to retract it, and skipped gleefully over to the double doors. The girl turned back to see him still stood in the exact same position mulling over whether this was a good decision or not. "Hargrove." Y/N huffed out.

He sighed and finally came back to reality, zoning in on the y/h/c girl to find her intently watching him with a small smirk playing at her lips, "If you land even one fucking mark on the paint job, you're dead, got it?"

Y/N looked up at him, now standing right beside her in front of the doors, wide eyes acting startled by the words before crinkling as she let out an obnoxiously loud giggle, almost snorting, "Ouh, I'm so scared. Three, two, one, run!"

The girl sprinted out of the double doors quicker than the last flash of lightning, using Billy's jacket as a hood while unlocking the Camaro in haste, throwing her bags in the back and starting the engine. Billy soon joined her, his hair sopping and shirt stuck to his chest in just a few seconds.

He was about to ask her what was taking so long to start driving, considering pushing herself into the back seat and driving himself, but Billy turned from frustrated to weirdly warm and fuzzy as he watched the girl slip her arms into his jacket. It didn't fit her well, swamping her small frame and looking bulky over her sweatshirt, but somehow it was still an adorable sight.

The rain and hail beat against the roof constantly, filling any space for conversation, but he still put the radio on in case the air became too silent. Surprisingly, she hummed along to the Mötley Crüe song and drummed her fingers against the steering wheel while leaving the school car park. He noticed she was hesitant, which was pretty standard considering the weather.

Neither teenager tried to make conversation, and his eyes trailed across the exposed skin of her hands after a couple minutes of staring out the window. A few white lines mirroring gashes and wounds littered her flesh, and he wondered what the cause of such scattered scars might have been. He stopped starring like a crazy person and focused on the way she handled his car with so much care and affection, finding it oddly endearing.

But soon Y/N had pulled into her driveway and cut the engine. She turned to him and sent the boy a small yet warm smile, "Thanks for not driving me."

He shook his head with a chuckle, suddenly so self aware of the situation. A pretty girl was in his car, wearing his leather jacket, looking up at him with 'fuck me' eyes. It was a circus act at this point, trying to do something nice but ending up in the same place, well not always the same place physically- the backseat most times, rarely their bed, and never his. Billy leaned closer, his breath hot against Y/N's cool skin, and just as his lips were about to touch hers, the girl jerked back just realising what was happening.

She looked up at him sincerely, placing her hand over his on the centre console, "Don't kiss me. You let me drive your car home from school, this isn't the end to some elaborate date."

Y/N moved to get her bags from the backseats, only to have Billy cut off her movements, "You drove me home, didn't you?"

The question sounded a little strange at first, but the girl registered what he meant and bit the inside of her cheek before nodding, "A lot happened that night, a lot that can't be changed or taken back. Not that I've made it clear, but I have a bit of a soft spot for you, Hargrove. You've done a lot of unforgivable things, you know that, I'm not going to lecture you. But I understand why you did them." Y/N didn't know whether to carry on, she didn't want to leave the car but evidently this was a heavy conversation and a rather uncomfortable one at that.

She unclasped the seatbelt and turned to face the boy with a warm expression, "The only boy I've ever brought home, Nathan, he was the sweetest human on the planet. Considering we were fifteen, he treated me like a princess, always buying me little gifts and taking me on adventures. But my dad couldn't see past the colour of his skin, and then he decided to throw the entire twelve piece set of china-wear at me until I promised not to see him ever again. If I'm right, our dads are pretty similar in that regard. I get you don't want that to happen to Max, that it was your personal way of protecting her. It doesn't excuse anything you've done, not in the slightest, but I understand."

Silence enveloped the car and Y/N dared to look up at Billy, finding his facade of egotistical male dominance shattered. She didn't brush aside his problems, but didn't treat him with kid gloves either, he didn't know how to respond but he was still just as in awe of the girl in front of him now, a few escaped tears trickling down her soft cheeks, as he was with the confident dancer.

She cleared her throat and sent him one last smile, lighting his insides into an inferno like a match, and Y/N reached for the door handle. Billy tugged her back physically this time, holding her so tightly with so much hidden emotion in the embrace. She burrowed into the crook of his neck and hugged him back with everything in her, hoping he'd somehow realise he wasn't alone on this road of tragedy.

"If I'm not at school, I'm usually here." Y/N pointed towards the house, lingering close to Billy still, "I know I'm not much, but I can distract you from how shitty life is and the inevitability of death if you ever want me to." She giggled, her tone light as a feather but her words heavy with meaning.

"Or if you ever want your jacket back." She winked, wrapping the leather garment around her figure tightly and getting out of the car. Billy slid into the drivers seat and watched in amusement as she fumbled with her keys and entered the house, only after looking back with a dazzling smile and another wink. The door shut quickly to keep the house warm and then boy pulled away from the driveway, wondering how this girl had entered his heart so quickly and when exactly she'd be the death of him.

Y/N skidded through the house with a less than happy demeanour, hitting the number two key on the house phone and hearing two rings before someone picked up, "Hello?" She greeted through gritted teeth, needing to know which family member was on the other end.

There was some indistinct shouting before her best friend finally answered, "Y/N/N? Oh thank go-"

"Where the fuck did you go, Harrington?" She seethed, it might have turned out okay for her in the end but that didn't excuse the shittiness of Steve's actions. He didn't know Billy let her drive, and she was going to have fun making him work to get that apology accepted.

"Please don't hate me, but I gave Nancy a lift."

[whatliesabove-blog1]

small, quiet room

Chapter fifteen | ao3

An agonizing two weeks go by before she has any kind of contact with Hopper. 

Earlier in the week, she asked Jonathan if he'd seen him around town. She didn’t expect her son to have searched him out or anything; she knows he’s not in any rush to sit face to face, but Hawkins is small and it’s not out of the ordinary for the boys to see him milling about. She got a negative, which struck her as odd but she merely offered a small smile and a nod in return.

After zero sightings and radio silence, he comes into the store near the end of her shift. 

Joyce almost doesn't notice him. She's so preoccupied by the stress of the customers today, who don't seem to understand that she isn't personally responsible for there being a lack of a specific item, she doesn't bat an eye when the door opens and the bell chimes.

It's only when there's a rather large shadow hovering over her that her brows furrow, head lifting to find out what’s going on. Eyes wide, she looks into the face of a very stoic looking Hopper.

"Hi," she says, though it comes out something of a question.

"Hi." 

He doesn't give much away, nothing at all, and she wishes he’d just say something. Anything. There’s plenty she could say, but she doesn’t feel it’s her place yet; he has to come to her on his own time. 

Which, she supposes he’s doing right now. Right?

"Can we talk?"

Looking around, she surveys the few customers before focusing back on him. "I can't leave the floor," she tells him. She can't just go into the back and leave the register unattended, and he knows that. "I get off in an hour?"

Hopper nods, the movement a little disjointed. "Okay."

"Okay,” she echoes, head nodding slowly, waiting for him to elaborate. When he doesn’t, she takes a breath. “Where do you want to meet, Hop?"

The look on his face tells her he hadn't thought that far ahead, didn't think much further than showing up at the store at all, and she’d laugh if she didn’t think it’d only make things worse.

"The boys will be home, which means El will be at the cabin,” she starts when he continues to say nothing at all, pausing for his small nod of confirmation, “so why don't we go to your trailer." 

"Yeah," he decides, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, that works."

"Okay."

She gets one more curt nod before he turns and walks right back out the door, leaving her stunned and more than a little confused. At least he came, she supposes. 

It's been a rough two weeks, but she’s had seventeen years to digest this information. Two weeks isn’t all that long when she thinks about it like that.

Joyce doesn't even realize there's a line of three customers until one of them clears their throat. Mumbling an apology and plastering on a practiced smile, she grabs their items and starts to ring them up.

Her knocks go unanswered long enough for her to wonder if he ever even wanted to meet up at all, if this wasn’t just one giant ruse so he could blow her off and make her feel like an idiot. 

She can’t say it’d be undeserved, but it doesn’t seem like Hopper’s style. 

Just as she's about to give in and turn back to her car, the door swings open.

"Sorry."

Hopper doesn't give an explanation and she doesn’t expect one, but he steps aside enough to allow her in. He closes the door behind them and then moves into the small kitchen. He grabs two beers from the fridge, extending one towards her once he returns.

"Oh, I'm—"

"We'll need them."

Shrugging a little, Joyce sighs and grabs the bottle. He’s likely right, anyway, and she has no doubt this will be awkward, uncomfortable, and probably emotional for the both of them. 

One beer will be the least of what she needs.

"Thanks," she murmurs. She doesn’t open it right away, just lets it rest against her stomach as she follows his lead into the living room.

He takes a seat in the chair, and so she situates herself on the couch across from him. Close but not too close. She’s giving him space. 

Hopper cracks his open, silently passing the bottle opener to her when he’s done. They each take a long swig, neither saying a word. The tension is palpable; Joyce chances a glance at him and watches as he pointedly avoids looking at her. 

For a while they just take turns looking up at each other when the other isn't looking, pretending not to pay attention when they are.

Ridiculous; they aren’t teenagers.

"You wanted to talk," she finally says, breaking the silence. "I think we should."

Hopper downs the last of his beer, rather quickly she thinks, and finally looks over at her. The dullness in his eyes catches her off guard, sends a shiver down her spine. It's just so unlike him. 

She hates that she's responsible.

"I want to know everything."

"Okay," she starts, drawing out the word. "Okay, and I'll tell you everything I can."

Hopper takes a breath. "It was graduation."

"Yeah."

"Karen's party."

"Yeah."

"Okay, so... I don't know," he says, raking a hand through his hair. "Explain to me what happened after."

"You left, Hopper. That's what happened. You went to Vietnam and I was still in Hawkins." Wringing her hands in her lap, she cracks her fingers. “I know that’s not... you didn’t choose... but you were already gone a few weeks when I found out I was pregnant."

His face remains unchanged, but he does flick his eyes in her direction. "You could've written."

Joyce scoffs. "And said what? ‘Hi, Hopper, I know you're fighting in the war and everything but I just thought I should let you know I'm pregnant and it's yours’."

"Yes, exactly that!"

"I was scared, Hop," she says, her voice rising. "I was still a child and I had no idea what I was going to do! You were thousands of miles away, and I didn't know—" She trails off, a sudden lump forming in her throat. "I didn't know if you would come back, and it was a lot to process."

He scoffs. “Scared,” he repeats, the word like poison on his tongue. “You were scared, and I was what? Having a party?”

“That’s not fair.”

“And neither is you withholding the fact that I had a kid.”

They don’t say anything for a few minutes, a heavy silence weighing them down. Joyce is pissed he’d even insinuate she thought he wasn’t scared in Vietnam, that she’d even think the two were comparable, and he’s pissed she’s using fear as an excuse. 

He groans then, closes his eyes. "Okay, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have... I understand being scared,” he says finally. “I do. But how do you get from being terrified and not knowing what to do to Lonnie being his father?"

Hopper spits Lonnie's name, disdain dripping from his tone.

"We got back together a few days after the party. I didn't—I was already pregnant, Hop, I couldn't be pregnant and alone. The thought of being crucified in town was too much, and so... Lonnie and I had slept together after you left, and I just—I told him it was his."

"He doesn't know."

It's not a question. They both know that if Lonnie did know, hell would’ve been raised a long time ago. She’d have more than bruises to show for it.

She answers anyway.

"No."

"What the hell, Joyce," he grinds out. Standing from his chair, he begins to pace in the small area. "You know, I really hate that I get why you lied. Initially. I can't fault teenage Joyce for trying to protect herself and her son. I can't."

She takes a small breath, tries to regulate her heartbeat.

"What I don't get is keeping that from me after I got back," he continues, huffing. "Was I such a fuck up that you couldn't imagine me being a father to your kid? So fucked up that Lonnie felt like the better choice?"

Her eyes widen and she nearly jumps from the couch, stands toe-to-toe with him. "What? No," she says, staring up at his back with fire in her eyes. She tries to put a hand on his bicep but he jerks it off. "That's never been it."

"Then why?" he asks. The quick way he turns and stares her down takes her breath away. "Why not tell me? You've had seventeen years, Joyce. Seventeen years! I ran into you two in the fucking department store, brought Jonathan back to you when he ran off, and that whole time I was returning my son."

Indignation boils beneath her skin.

"When should I have told you, Jim? When you came back after Vietnam, boasting about some big position in the city waiting for you? When you were off in New York for most of those seventeen years? You weren't here, Hopper! You had a wife and a daughter—should I have told you then?" Joyce pauses for a moment, tries to reel in her emotions. 

A part of her knows she’s being difficult, that sure, maybe she could’ve told him any of those times. But they never seemed right; there was always something else going on, something she’d be effectively shattering with the truth. 

"How about when you came back for two months and your mother died? When you were dealing with her funeral and putting her things in order? Or maybe I should've told you when you were grieving your daughter, just to add onto the pain."

The mirthless laugh that emits from his throat is stone cold.

"You are incredible. You could've told me at any time, Joyce, but you didn't. I wasn’t here? I would have been if you told me,” he yells, his voice booming. He starts pacing again and it’s making her anxious, her eyes following the heavy footfalls he makes. “You know what would have saved you from having to decide whether or not to tell me in times of grief? One simple solution. If you had just told me after I came back."

The air crackles between them, so much pent up emotion floating in the stuffy space of the trailer.

Simple. There’s that goddamn word again.

She wants to scream.

Joyce throws her hands up, wills him to understand. "You were leaving," she says, her voice desperate. "All you ever wanted was to get out of Hawkins and be a cop in a big city, and you were getting that! You were off to fucking Manhattan. I couldn't be the one to ruin that for you."

"Ruined it?" His voice is loud, angry. "That's what you think? That Jonathan ruined your life?"

Her eyes darken. "Of course not, and you know damn well I'd never think that."

"Then who gave you the right to decide whether he'd ruin mine?"

"You were destined for bigger things, Hopper. I wasn't going to be the reason you gave that all up."

A raspy sound claws its way from the back of his throat, the noise somewhere between a groan and a scream. He scrubs a hand down his face. "You could've come with me. Both of you. I did well in the city; I could've taken care of you both, but you never gave me that chance."

Joyce shakes her head. "You say that now, but you would've grown to resent me. Resent Jonathan. And I didn't want that."

"Do you think I resented Sara?" he asks, and she takes a step back. Her shoulders drop. "No, I didn't. Because even though he wasn't planned I wouldn't have turned away my kid. Or you."

“Oh, please,” she says. A watery chuckle scrapes out, her throat raw. “I believe that you believe what you’re saying, Hopper, but we were kids. I knew teenage Hopper, too, you know, and can you honestly tell me that you would’ve just sat there with open arms and given up your dream?” 

He remains silent, staring at a spot just beyond her left shoulder, and she watches as a storm brews behind those eyes of his. 

“No.”

His entire demeanor changes with that one word. She isn’t surprised to hear it and she’s not mad either. She knew. It might’ve taken him a while to realize it, too, but she knew.

“But I would have tried my best after the shock wore off, Joyce,” he says. “And if you don’t think that...” He lets out a hollow laugh. “What does that say about me?”

"It wasn’t... I'm sorry, Hop." Tears prick at the backs of her eyes and she collapses back onto the couch, lets her head fall into her palms. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't erase the last seventeen years."

Nodding, she chews on her bottom lip. "I know."

Hopper takes a deep breath, paces for a few more moments before he finally stops. He looks down at her before slowly settling himself back into the chair, resting his elbows on his thighs. 

She can tell he’s nearly back at eye level but she can't look at him.

"Joyce."

The responding hum comes out garbled, caught in the lump in her throat.

"Look at me." 

Reluctantly, she lifts her eyes to him. She owes him this much. Wiping beneath her eyes with the back of her hand, she tries to blink away any fresh tears.

"I wanted to tell you," she whispers, so quietly she's almost not sure she's even said anything at all. It’s only small twitch in his brow that tells her she has. Sniffling, she doesn't look away. "I wanted to tell you so many times."

He softens more, and she doesn't know if it's because the fight has left his body the same way it's left hers, or if it's simply resignation.

She doesn’t know which one she hopes for.

"So why didn't you?" Even his voice is quiet, not the same booming anger he had before. “I know you were scared, Joyce, but... truthfully, just—why?”

"I don't know." At her shrug, she gives an almost hysterical laugh. "It's a shitty excuse, Hop, I know, but the more time that passed, the harder it became to even think about letting the truth out. And I knew that the longer I lied the worse it would get, but that knowledge mixed with how much time had already gone by and how it never seemed right, I just... I couldn't make myself tell you. Or Jonathan."

"I'm still mad," he says by way of reply. She looks up at him, lashes wet. "I'm still really mad, Joyce, and I'm—I don't know how to process the last fucking two weeks, but I don't want to fight."

She nods. "I don’t want to fight either."

"I'm gonna need... I don't know, some time. Some more time to figure it out."

She nods again. "Okay."

"What am I supposed to do now?" he asks, shrugging before leaning back into the cushion. "I don't know shit about raising a teenager."

Joyce laughs a little at that. "You're kind of already raising one," she reminds him. El may only be thirteen, but she’s still a teenager. And a teenage girl at that, something she's never had to deal with. "Besides, Jonathan doesn't need raising. He's almost eighteen, almost off to college."

His jaw tightens and she her chest constricts. She knows what he’s thinking about and she almost wishes she hadn’t said anything at all.

"So where does that leave us? Does the kid even like me?" He waves a hand around. "Is he freaked out?"

"He likes you, Hop. The second you believed me, the second you helped us bring back Will, he liked you," she assures him. This time when she reaches out, covers his hand with her own, he doesn't pull away. "Yeah he was freaked out, he's still figuring it out, too, but... he doesn’t seem upset about it. He’s more upset about the lie than..."

Her voice trails off; he can fill in the blanks.

"I don't know what he wants," she tells him honestly. "I don't know how either of you want to play this, but I think that's something the two of you should talk about. I've done enough."

"I'd say," he mutters under his breath, and her fingers twitch on top of his.

She deserves that; she knows she does. 

What she doesn’t deserve is the small flicker of apology in his eyes when they meet hers.

"You can come by whenever you have time? Talk to him?"

Hopper moans a little, squeezes his eyes shut. This is so out of his realm, out of his comfort zone, and she knows that. Sure, he's interacted with Jonathan before, but that was as the Chief, as Joyce's friend, as someone who helped their family. Not as one of his parents. 

"Yeah," he sighs eventually. "Yeah, I guess. What do I say to him?"

"You just talk to him. It'll be weird, Hop, there's no getting around that. But just talk. Tell him the truth, whatever that may be."

It's silent for a while, the two of them stewing in the aftermath of this conversation. It's drained her, body as tired as her mind, and she wants nothing more than to go home and take a hot bath. In reality, she'll probably take a short, lukewarm shower and have to immediately start on dinner, but she'll take it. 

Anything to ease the tension in her bones.

"I'm sorry," she repeats, for what feels like the millionth time, after few moments. Hopper turns to face her. "I really am. I never meant to hurt you."

"I know." His fingers squeeze hers. "I won't say it's okay, because it's not, but I want us to be okay."

Joyce swallows, worries a nail between her teeth. "Me too. I don't want you to hate me forever."

"I may not like you very much right now, but I don't hate you. Kinda wish I could, but I... never."

She gives a watery laugh, and a small weight lifts from her shoulders. "I'll take what I can get."

There's a brief pause, and then, "we have a kid."

Joyce smiles in spite of herself. "Yeah."

"We have a kid, Joyce. Us."

"Yeah, Hop. We have a kid."

[taylorfiction]

What To Think Pt 4

Taylor’s POV

So this is her telling Austin and then Joe’s parents

In case you missed it; Part one, two and three

I hope you enjoy,, i also hope you had a wonderful Christmas. Do not forget to send in anymore requests or feedback you have! Soz these next few weeks are gonna be a bit disjointed bc Christmas and New Years deserve fanfics posted on the day!

The problem with telling my brother is that he was as, if not even more, protective than Joe.

If I told him I was expecting a baby he would not only grill Joe and make sure he was looking after me but he would also grill me and my parents and would probably end up telling all my friends. I needed to be careful with how and when I told him.

I had asked him to come over to stay for the weekend, already knowing he would eat everything in the fridge and leave a trail of mess behind him.

He stayed in the guest room he usually stayed in, it was like his room in a kind of way because no one else ever slept in there apart from him. He left some of his things in that room that implied he wanted it but we never actually established it was his.

Of course, it was lovely having my brother there, we always got on really well and him and Joe always had fun teasing me and laughing with each other. The only thing that bugged me about my brother staying is that he would leave a mess everywhere.

He would leave empty bowls around the house, leave his shampoo in the shower, he would let me cook and let me clean up after him and in my hormonal state I was not willing to put up with it.

‘Austin, get your ass in here now!’ I screeched as I stood in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the number of things in front of the sink, waiting to be washed up.

‘Sup, Teffy?’ he sauntered into the kitchen, wearing his tracksuit bottoms and a hoody, looking like the king of the castle, ‘Clean up your shit or you can find somewhere else to sleep.’ I said, bluntly, my hormones taking control, making me angrier than I normally would be.

‘Woah,’ he said, putting his hands up in defence, ‘Someone woke up on the wrong side of bed’ his eyebrows raised. I glared at him as I walked past, whispering ‘dick’ under my breath.

I heard Joe’s footsteps coming down the stairs as I took the cup of tea I had previously made and sat in the living room, looking out the window and admiring the view I had right at my fingertips. God, I was so lucky.

‘What happened to her?’ I heard my brother ask Joe in a condescending tone, obviously unhappy about being made to clear up his mess. I heard Joe’s laugh. ‘Maybe she’s pregnant.’ That’s all he said in response. I couldn’t help but laugh.

‘Ha ha very funny’ my brother finished sarcastically.

Little did he know.

It was 7pm and the three of us were sat around the dining table, chatting and drinking wine, our meal long since finished, the discourse ranging from pets to what will be happening in 9 years time, in 2030.

‘Austin,’ I started, knowing that it was the right time to tell him.

‘Yeah?’ he replied warily, a worried expression ghosting his features.

I caught hold of Joes hand as I felt my heart beat speed up and my breathing become slightly shallower. Okay. It’s only two words. Easy peasy. It’s your brother for God’s sake.

What would he think? Would he be happy for us? Would he want to be an Uncle? Is he ready to be an Uncle? Is he going to hate Joe for this? Why would he hate Joe though? He makes me happy.

‘Uhh’ I looked at Joe again, his head nodding encouraging me to just say it, I shut my eyes before blurting, ‘I’m pregnant.’

My hand was squeezing Joe’s so hard, I didn’t want to let go.

I squinted my eyes open to see his reaction.

They were both smiling and as I saw this I let out a breath, he can’t be mad if he’s smiling.

‘So happy for you guys.’ He got up and walked round the table to Joe, who stood up, they shook hands and Austin slapped him on the back, ‘You better look after those two’ he raised his eyebrows and pointed to Joe and then to me.

We all laughed and I shook my head as I realised his over-protectiveness was about to multiply.

Imagine how protective he’s going to be of this child.

He made his way round to me and I stood up to give him a tight hug, ‘you’re going to be the best mom’ He said, emotion evident in his voice.

‘You’re gonna be the best Uncle’ I said in response, squeezing him back.

We pulled away and smiled at each other. I could feel a weight lift off of my shoulders and my mind become a lot clearer.

It had been three weeks since I had told my parents and one week since I had told Austin.

Tonight was the night I was most nervous for. We were having dinner with Joe’s parents. That meant telling them and even before we got to their house my heart was beating as fast as a racing car, my hands constantly wringing themselves out and my nerves on high alert.

‘Worrying is not good for the little one’ Joe said to me before kissing and embracing me, running his hands up and down my arms, trying to calm me down.

‘What if they don’t want it though?’ I rested my head on his chest, closing my eyes to try and calm my thoughts. I know that it was my idea to start telling people, and I know that I would be this nervous whenever I told them but I couldn’t help the thoughts swirling round my head, making me doubt myself and my happiness with this child.

‘Taylor,’ he looked at me and paused for a second, ‘They have loved you for four years, they aren’t suddenly going to hate you because we are having a child, they’ll be ecstatic, I promise.’ He squeezed my shoulders while I stayed in his embrace.

‘C’mon, lets go.’ He took my hand in his and lead me towards the door, softly kissing me before he opened it.

We arrived and we chatted a bit, my hands unable to keep still, constantly fidgeting, the words I was going to say spinning round my head like a carousel. I greeted them all and gave Patrick a tight squeeze, even Tom, Joe’s older brother, was there. Joe stood by my side throughout, telepathically telling me that he would protect me, that I needed to stop worrying because everything would be fine.

Would it though?

We sat down for dinner, plated full, I complimented Elizabeth on her incredible cooking and we all tucked in. The conversation being hit back and forth like a ping pong ball, it was comfortable, almost. I was halfway through the meal when I started to over-think things.

What if they don’t approve? What if they think it’s too soon? It’s not like I barely know them… Will they be happy? What will make them happy?

I could feel my breathing quicken slightly and before anyone, including Joe, could notice, I said ‘I’m just going to go to the rest- I mean bathroom’ I got up and disappeared out of the room and into another. I put my hands on the sink and I looked into the mirror, maintaining eye contact with myself.

I didn’t realise how long I had been stood there until I heard a gentle knock on the door and small voice saying, ‘Hey babe? You okay?’ it was Joe. I snapped out of my reverie, realising there were tears sprinting down my cheeks. Oh God, I’m over-reacting again. I’m crying again. He’s going to think I don’t want this child. He’s going to think I just need to get over it.

‘Oh, um, yeah’ I said shakily wiping the tears away with the back of my hand and looking back at my reflection in the mirror. I was a mess. ‘Can I come in?’ he said, not really asking because he opened the door anyway.

He stopped when he saw me. Tears streaming, hands shaking and breath uncontrollable.

He walked over and instantly embraced me in his arms, stroking my hair, rocking me back and forth and whispering ‘Shh’ in my ear to try and calm me down. ‘Don’t worry,’ he whispered, his arms surrounded me like castle walls, protecting me, keeping me safe from harm. ‘I will talk to them, I will tell them, I just need you to stop crying and come with me back in there, okay?’ he leaned down to look into my eyes, lifting my chin up slightly and smiling at me.

He took my hand and we walked back into the kitchen, a smile plastered on both of our faces. I knew Elizabeth wouldn’t fall for it but as we sat down I hastily said, ‘Sorry, I had to try and find my earing, I thought it got caught in my top’ I awkwardly laughed as I started devouring my food again. Elizabeth smiled at me, knowing something was up but not saying anything.

After dinner we all wandered into the living room, the TV playing some soap opera with lots of fighting and chocolates already placed in the centre of the coffee table. I held onto Joe’s hand as we sat down next to each other, he squeezed my fingers slightly in reassurance, telling me it was time to tell them.

‘So,’ he started cautiously, looking at me before he continued, a small smile ghosting his lips, ‘we have some news,’ he readjusted himself on the sofa, dragging out the suspense. Before he could continue Richard blurted, ‘So you didn’t come to dinner just because you wanted to see us?’ He winked at Joe, clearly meant as a joke, we all laughed a little.

‘Haha, although we do love having dinner with you, that is not only why we came,’ again he looked at me, squeezing my hand again, a smile was painted onto my lips hiding the worry and nerves that I truly felt.

‘We’re-‘ he started but paused for a second, ‘We’re pregnant’ his smile suddenly grew into a beam and I couldn’t help but smile at his joy every time he said those words.

I could see both Elizabeth and Richard tearing up as everyone stood up and once again we all exchanged hugs, Tom gave us both a ‘congratulations’, meanwhile Patrick, who was now taller than me, gushed about the idea of being an Uncle and not being the youngest anymore.

Elizabeth embraced me tightly, whispering in my ear as she did so, ‘Don’t worry dear, everything will be fine, we’ll always be here with support’ she squeezed me and pulled back smiling, obviously knowing that I had not lost my earing earlier.

Richard came over as well chuckling to himself about how he was going to be a grandfather and warning Joe that he ‘Better look after Taylor and this baby’. I smiled at this, my heart thanking his family for always being so supportive and lovely towards me and my chaotic life.

When we got home it was late and neither of us had the effort to do anything other than sleep, so that’s what we did. He kept me safe for the whole night, his arms around me, hands resting on my stomach, protecting our baby as well as me.

Our baby.

[deadcactuswalking]

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 07/11/2020 (Ariana Grande, Bring Me the Horizon)

You know, it’s odd how that despite two pretty massive albums dropping, both having an impact on the chart, we actually have less debuts than the scattered mess of singles from last week, thanks to silly UK Singles Chart rules. Regardless, this week’s #1 is still “positions” by Ariana Grande and welcome back to REVIEWING THE CHARTS.

Dropouts & Returning Entries

The biggest drop off the chart this week is undoubtedly the #1 hit “Before You Go” by Lewis Capaldi, exiting the UK Top 75 after a run lasting 50 weeks. Nothing really compares to the weight of that drop-out but I guess we do have “GREECE” by DJ Khaled featuring Drake, “Heather” by Conan Grey. “Bando Diaries” by Dutchavelli, “Heart of Glass” by Miley Cyrus, “forget me too” by Machine Gun Kelly featuring Halsey and “Hold” by Chunkz and Young Filly, only lasting a measly two weeks but still peaking high. There is actually a theme to our returning entries as all of these are spooky scary Halloween-themed tracks. The classic “Thriller” by the ever-controversial King of Pop Michael Jackson is back at #57, “Ghostbusters” by Ray Parker, Jr. Is back at #54 – this is my personal favourite of the bunch, mostly thanks to Neil Cicierega – and even “Monster Mash” by Bobby Boris Pickett is back at #50. Oh, and “5AM” by M Huncho and Nafe Smallz is back at #66 but that’s just scarily bad. The biggest fall this week was for “Cool with Me” by Dutchavelli and M1llionz down to #64 whilst the biggest gain was unfortunately for “Whoopty” by CJ at #48. Honestly, what’s the appeal here? Sigh, at least we have some really interesting hijinks this week, pretty fitting for a week that saw the messiest US election in history, and I won’t write this in order so you won’t see what I’m leading up to until a while after you read this part but there is some incredible stuff here. You know what’s not incredible?

NEW ARRIVALS

#74 – “Too Many Nights” – 220 KID and JC Stewart

Produced by 220 KID, Joe Janiak and Mark Ralph

I started off this episode by writing about the Bring Me the Horizon songs first. Not only is the album good and I had recently listened to it, but I had a lot more to say about the tracks, obviously since it’s not something you see on the charts every day and there’s a lot more to discuss in these tracks. Hence, after writing nearly 2,000 words on the metalcore boys alone, I have a question: do I really need to cover this emotionless tropical house-pop crap manufactured by labels and DJs who rarely find any interesting instrumentation, songwriting ideas or even samples to cover up their complete lack of innovation and at times even talent, for a quick buck and stupid amounts of unwarranted chart success? I don’t want to say I’m angry and I don’t want to seem pretentious but music is art. Art is, as a result of the society that produces it, a product, but even #1 hits and major-label records are still pieces of art. They can be analysed, appreciated and listened to with a lot of thought and detail. I cannot see that in “Too Many Nights” by 220 KID and JC Stewart. To me, this is purely a product. I’m taking this way too seriously but this really exemplifies what people hate about pop music in three minutes and eight seconds of cheap plastic dance music. Next.

#67 – “Ginger” – Wizkid featuring Burna Boy

Produced by P2J

Wizkid and Burna Boy are both highly acclaimed Nigerian singers and given everything that’s happening here recently, it’s no surprise Wizkid released an album that I would think touches on these issues, Made in Lagos, which is a name I can infer means he will explore Nigerian identity and what it means to be from Lagos and make it big in music. Wizkid is one of the big stars and pioneers of modern African pop music and whilst I should be interested in the album, I haven’t had the time to give it a spin yet so I’ll take this first impression from the track with Burna Boy. This is a pretty sweet tropical tune with an infectious hook referencing the traditional West African dish of jollof rice, and whilst the language barrier does prevent me from fully understanding the song, I can gather that this is a mix of a hook-up jam and typical rap stuff, with him flexing how he lives nice and if people want smoke, he’s got smoke, and a lot about this woman gyrating on him. Seriously, that’s the whole first verse, which only arrives after a really awkward pause. The second verse is kind of awkward here and Wizkid’s voice and flow have never done much for me, especially here where both he and Burna Boy sound checked-out. Burna Boy’s contributions are pretty much relegated to half of the chorus and an outro that quickly fades away and soon enough, this really slow, kind of uninteresting song has already finished. I’m not personally a fan of this but I am still interested in that album – I like the song with Skepta even if it does sound very much like “Ginger”, just with a stronger guest. Now onto the big story, or at least my big story, on the chart.

#55 – “1x1” – Bring Me the Horizon featuring Nova Twins

Produced by Jordan Smith and Oliver Sykes

I never read Kerrang! magazine, mostly because I’m not a loser [citation needed]. I understand that they originated in the 1980s as a metal-focused magazine but I wasn’t there for that. I was there for the Kerrang! TV era of pop-punk whining, scene-core screaming, nu-metal grunting, emo crooning and the Bloodhound Gang for some reason. Listening to this new Bring Me the Horizon album, titled Post Human: Survival Horror, took me back to that place. That feeling of classic Metallica followed by less classic Foo Fighters followed by the absolutely not classic Medina Lake (some of their stuff still slaps, however derivative) – oh, yeah, and like 10 minutes of adverts after six minutes of music. That feeling of All Time Low and You Me at Six playing back to back and being completely incapable of telling the difference between the two. “If we ain’t got that then we ain’t got much and we ain’t got nothing.” They were simpler times. I may be mashing up eras here but it still stands. Hell, the BABYMETAL tracks even took me back to the “Flashing Lights” disclaimers of all things. Rest in peace to Scuzz by the way, and, yes, I said BABYMETAL, we’ll get to that in a bit. So, yeah, I really liked that throwback to turn-of-the-millennium mallcore, but it does keep itself fresh and interesting enough throughout, especially with Sykes’ unique delivery and topical albeit ham-fisted edgy lyrics. You can say a lot about Bring Me the Horizon but at this point at least they definitely have pretty defining characteristics and a lot of likeability even if they do like to stick to a formula at times that makes it pretty obvious where their influences lie. That said, I do think the album becomes a slog by track seven, and it’s a lot duller than it probably should be for the final stretch. Unfortunately, this is track seven. I’m not familiar with the Nova Twins but they’re a punk-rap duo from London and honestly I am interested in checking out that debut album but I’m not really impressed by them or the metalcore boys – which is somehow a better band name than “Bring Me the Horizon” – on this track. Again, there is a formula to the metalcore boys’ banger tracks, and here it feels particularly stale and awkward, thanks to the loudness war that’s present in the album as a whole (Linkin Park’s influence shows up everywhere, even in the production) and the awkward trap elements shoved into the percussion of the first and second verses. I think Amy Love of Nova Twins obviously flows better on it than Oli Sykes who should have handed everything that’s not the chorus – one of the most cookie-cutter on the record – to the Twins, because he sounds pretty off here. There’s a lot less “epic edgy” lyrical content (I’m not sure if that’s a compliment) but that leads to kind of vague and disjointed ideas that don’t all line up to the core theme of the song, which is human guilt for the sins of man or some crap like that. Boys, when you interpolate four of your own songs AND Linkin Park, you’ve got to realise you’re re-treading some ground here. Not even the typical Bring Me the Horizon drop into the metal breakdown from an electronic bridge really feels like it’s worth it or climactic here, which is a shame but who needs the Nova Twins when the metalcore boys have a collaboration with another unique all-female rock duo...?

#51 – “Kingslayer” – Bring Me the Horizon featuring BABYMETAL

Produced by Jordan Fish and Oliver Sykes

When I saw BABYMETAL on this tracklist, I was amused and kind of laughed it off. These guys do have some pretty bizarre collaborations – they have songs with Halsey and Grimes – but BABYMETAL? I remember them when they were half-awesome Japanese pop-metal band and half-complete and utter meme in the early 2010s, and I knew that they had continued being so, mostly because the last time I heard from them they were playable in Super Mario Maker. Seriously, look it up. Now when I saw BABYMETAL on the charts, nearing the top 50 no less, I was ecstatic and honestly shocked. Needless to say this is their first appearance on the chart and whilst metal bands in the 2000s like Slipknot and System of a Down had genuine hits, outside of, fittingly, Bring Me the Horizon, it’s unheard of, especially for a Japanese girl group who happen to have freaking shredders playing on stage behind them. I haven’t listened to a BABYMETAL album but I feel like I don’t need to because of how much they’ve made an impression through singles, videos and live performances. Judas Priest’s Rob Halford called BABYMETAL “the future of metal” and whilst I’m not into the metal scene, I’m half-inclined to both agree and add Bring Me the Horizon to that conversation. I’m just amazed there is a cyber-kawaii metal song on the charts. I’m honestly astonished. Oh, and it helps that the song is incredible. On the album there’s a short interlude that functions as an introduction but honestly the short, aggressive synth riff followed by an immediate crash into the metal groove and Sykes yelling his lungs out works better on its own to just shove you face-first into some insane music. I love how that opening yell is chopped up and digitally re-arranged in the background of the chaotic instrumentation. The cutesy and bleep-bloopy synths that are not new to Bring Me the Horizon’s repertoire are used to their full potential here and yes, it is complete sensory overload, but it’s also kawaii-cyber metal. I mean, what did you expect? It also thematically makes sense. The song is about Call of Duty but it’s also an ode to the people willing to stand up for what they believe in even if it’s illegal and even if it doesn’t abide by rules and regulations. The album is full of these songs that fully support a revolutionary attitude and a clear frustration with keeping up with the old guard for all these years. You can hear how fed up and sick and tired of the political hellscape Sykes is in his shifts between pitch-shifted whining not dissimilar to Blink-182 and gravelly yelling straight out of extreme metal, except unlike most extreme metal I’ve heard, this is actually mixed properly. This track and especially the opener, “Dear Diary”, have so much anarchic energy and that is what I love about the hardcore punk edge to a lot of the album, not necessarily as much sonically as that in content and lyrical themes, where Sykes presents his inner mental struggles and contextualises them on the world stage, making an album that tackles the pandemic, racism and corruption vaguely and with poetic wit without being shallow or impersonal. Most songs that relate to the social distancing will not use the depressive emotional bloodletting of “Teardrops”, the subtly ominous yet still anthemic choruses about lockdown in “Obey” (seriously, these guys can make even YUNGBLUD sound listenable) and even the slow, sour conflict with both Mother Nature and general isolation on the closing ballad that has a name way too long for me to recite, as much as I enjoy upping the word count on every episode. Sykes’ verse in “Kingslayer” discusses opposing points of political opposition and protest, on one hand wanting to express how sick people are of going through the capitalist machine only to be spat back out again but also asking him the condescending question of if he really wants to poke the governmental bear. On the pre-chorus, he voices those frustrations in profanity-laden motivation that is asking not just himself but the general public to wake up, not that they’re unaware of how unfair the system is but instead acting as a call to action. Su-Metal of BABYMETAL takes this ode in a different angle, seeing revolutionaries as idolised figures, so much so that the chorus works as a confession of love or just awe in how the “kingslayer” is destroying castles in the sky and will save “us” from the darkness and from the struggles that the corrupt elite forces onto the populace. In the verse Su-Metal juxtaposes the imagery in the hook of some kind of medieval warrior (“angel of the blade”) with the near-incomprehensible verse, which is half-sung in Japanese with a cry for help responded to in commanding English, which I see as a reaction from the authority that undermines these problems. They call the revolutionary “artificial” and “modified” in a condescending, mocking tone, as well as using so much digital jargon that the verse becomes practically meaningless, especially backed by the heavy, loud music that drowns some of the messaging about and very much intentionally. It also seems pretty intentional that this song sounds like a take on an anime opening, as all of this cyber-punk imagery and anti-authority lyrical content feels a lot sharper when coated in references and criticism of mass-media. Oh, and it also helps that the song rocks, Su-Metal’s melodies are beautifully placed against a frenetic, monotone bass note in her verse, and that final chorus is absolutely perfect. That rapid-fire addition to the chorus took me by surprise on first listen and just completes the song for me. The song ends with one last wake-up call from Sykes about the rabbit hole before his yell is manipulated, screwed and played with by the production, rendering his scream inhuman... and followed by the playful, childlike inflections of BABYMETAL. If we don’t at least try to change in this time, the generations after us will suffer from our mistakes and missed opportunities. Man, this song is a rollercoaster that starts with drum and bass rhythms and ends with Oli Sykes growling gratuitous profanities that get close to feeling like he’s insulting the listener – it’s really brutal – and I’m here for it all the way. There have been songs on REVIEWING THE CHARTS that I like and that I love and whilst I know this won’t stick around (it is still cyber-kawaii metal), this is undoubtedly the best song I think I’ve ever covered on this show and might as well just be one of the best songs I’ve heard this year and maybe ever. I adore this track, please, PLEASE check it out.

#46 – “Flooded” – M Huncho and Nafe Smallz

Produced by Sean Murdz

Okay, seriously for a second: who cares? There’s nothing interesting here. A synth-based soundscape with some cheap flute loops drowned out by trap percussion that doesn’t even drop in, it just awkwardly fades in – yes, even the 808s – and Auto-Tuned mumbling from a nasal-voiced child with an unbearable falsetto. What is the appeal? None of them sound interested, there are no bars of any interest or even a funny line, not even unintentionally. D-Block Europe make me laugh but this tragically awful duo make me bored to death. M Huncho has a cool mask he wears and I wish his gimmick was more than just that and you know, actually translated to the music, but he doesn’t sound intimidating or like a villain. He just sounds like some dude who decided to rap barely on the beat of badly-mixed type beat with bass mastering that should be pitied. He did have a fluke song that kind of slapped called “Pee Pee”, which just comes to show that the more ridiculous and stupid he gets, the more vaguely entertaining he is. So why is he this dull and lame?! The flow is either talking over a beat that refuses to stay still but never truly reaches any kind of climax or even build-up, or just trap-rap word association. “I flooded the chain, it’s like a lake, we runnin’ the game, you pressin’ the brakes.” There’s nothing here, absolutely nothing, and these two hacks cannot sell it. I’m just looking for some effort and even if something is effortless, at least have the charisma to make it sound like you give a damn because this is pretty inexcusable.

#35 – “Paradise” – MEDUZA and Dermot Kennedy

Produced by MEDUZA

I’m tired and I feel like I’m almost at breaking point with these songs. What would usually be generic and uninteresting is sounding offensively bad to me right now and I’m not sure why. That doesn’t really matter all too much to me though as this show has never been an in-depth critical assessment... okay, well sometimes it becomes as such but these are usually just my first impressions of tracks that happen to debut that week on the UK Singles Chart and this can range from volatile frustration to immediate adoration to not giving a rat’s ass about a single one of the songs that debut, depending on how I feel that day. That said, this song is fine. I actually really like Kennedy’s delivery, even if his rougher edges are smoothened and cleaned up by the vocal production here, which is pretty reverb-drenched but does allow for Kennedy to actually release rather than editing the vocals to sound really tight and closed-in... except for that really weak, pathetic drop but I do like the lyrical content, fittingly about distanced relationships as England enters a second lockdown. There’s little to say here but it’s worth a listen.

#32 – “Four Notes – Paul’s Tune” – Paul Harvey, Daniel Whibley and BBC Philharmonic

Produced by ???

No production credits for this one for whatever reason. Anyway, I am tired to the point of just complete speechless confusion at why this charted, and especially so high, rather than having any intrigue in why, but I looked it up anyway. Paul Harvey is a man from Sussex with dementia who is able to improvise beautiful piano melodies with only four notes as a reference point, hence the name. This was recorded by his son Nick and posted onto Twitter, where it soon became viral. This composition was then arranged by Daniel Whibley and recorded by the BBC’s Philharmonic Orchestra to be released as a charity single with proceeds being split between the Alzheimer’s Society and Music for Dementia. This isn’t a song I can critique. The arrangement is really pretty and it was in the original video, with the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra only serving to make it sound grander and fitting for a single release. Dementia, Alzheimer’s and any kind of brain disorder are all really tragic and really depressing things to happen to anybody, especially to the people it tends to affect: the elderly. It’s sweet that this is a single and I like that it charted high so those organisations that can assist science in treating these disorders and give help to those with family members diagnosed with and suffering from brain disorders have more funding. The song sounds good, it’s mixed well and honestly it’s pretty gorgeous at times, and if this helps people, then it’s done its job, and I commend Harvey and his son, Daniel Whibley and the BBC for letting this happen. Now for something completely different.

#26 – “Deluded” – Tion Wayne featuring MIST

Produced by Steel Banglez and Chris Rich Beats

Steel Banglez, Tion Wayne and MIST? God, maybe we are returning to the new normal; this is a 2019 line-up. Tion Wayne is a character and a presence on the track always and MIST is quite the opposite, but that “So High” song with Fredo was pretty cool, I suppose. Tion Wayne has always been more of an entertaining presence than half this crop of drill rappers, even if his flow and bars suffer from it, but he’s always a lot more fun and he does have a couple punchlines that hit. This particular song uses that “mm-mm” flow that originated on his track “Keisha & Becky”, and both him and MIST sound really interested and enthused here, as they trade bars in the verses and support each other with ad-libs throughout. The two seem to actually have some chemistry and it’s not an unnatural collaboration. Even in Tion Wayne’s solo chorus, MIST is shouting behind him, and it overall makes the song really aggressive and punchy, even if some of the lyrics are just kind of uninteresting or even confusing, like the oddly-specific jab at an unnamed crack abuser, always referred to as “you” in the song. Is the listener a crack addict? Should I be scared? I’m not entirely sure, but this kind of slaps, especially the keys and vocal sample in the outro. It kind of reminds me of a harsher version of the #1 hit back from 2018, “Funky Friday” by Dave and Fredo, except these guys are legitimately menacing in the song and the bass-heavy drill beat never subtracts from that, not to say that “Funky Friday” is a bad song (far from it). It’s not about being able to convince me with lyrics, it’s about being able to sell what you say effectively and interestingly – not even uniquely, but just in a way that’s presentable and leads to genuinely good music. M Huncho and Nafe Smallz could take a couple hints from these guys.

#16 – “motive” – Ariana Grande and Doja Cat

Produced by TBHits, Joseph L’Etranger, Mr. Franks and Murda Beatz

Murda Beatz, huh? Well, I haven’t listened to Positions yet, mostly because I’ve been bumping Goddamn Bring Me the Horizon for the past week, but also because 14 tracks of the same song doesn’t necessarily interest me. For the sake of the show I probably should check the album out – it’s not that long – but don’t expect me to have that a positive opinion on it. I said my peace on Grande last week and given the singles I seriously doubt this album will erase my continuous issues with her projects. I’ve always felt that despite her unbelievable talent, she is also unbelievably disinterested and detached from her own music to the point where whatever artistic contributions and creativity she and her team had is completely washed out by the questionable production, weak-sauce trap beats and misguided song ideas (I still roll my eyes on “7 rings” and “sweetener”). From what I’ve heard from this new album, it has a lot more classic R&B keys and strings undercut by trap skitters and modern vocal production, and this is pretty clear in “motive”, a funky house-inspired dance-pop tune that feels miles less robotic and factory-made than most house on the charts, instead going for an organic fast-paced groove and mildly annoying vocal samples. The trap breakdown in the pre-chorus is what gives Murda Beatz the right to put his producer tag at the start of the song, which is honestly just funny. I do like the verses but the chorus doesn’t hit in quite the same way it should, possibly that pre-chorus is just garbage and it doesn’t build to an effective crescendo for the chorus to build up on off of whispery murmuring. Oh, and Doja Cat is here, which took me by surprise when she started lazily rapping since Ari actually sounded like her in the second verse. In fact, this is a Doja Cat song in all but lead artist credit and honestly, the song kind of suffers because of it. This is decent, I suppose, but a collaboration that doesn’t favour either artist.

#9 – “34+35” – Ariana Grande

Produced by ProdByXavi, Mr. Franks, Peter Lee Johnson and TBHits

Ariana Grande’s albums have disproportionate producer credit to producer effort ratio. At least there’s not a M-M-M-Murda on this one. The song title is stupid but this was pushed to radio so I guess it has to be family-friendly PG clean to some degree. It is interesting how it goes for the absurdity of being dirty over Disney-like orchestral blossoms and pretty nice-sounding strings, but it doesn’t go far enough other than the chorus. It’s missing a good, effective, funny opening line, and I feel that the verses are pretty lacking. The pre-chorus is almost cringeworthy and just going into bizarre levels of horny on main but that is very much the point of the whole thing. “You know I keep it squeaky”? I find it almost difficult to take this song as anything more than a joke, but she does have some pretty commanding tones when she asks him to “just give me them babies” and the snarky laugh in the intro combined with pretty slick albeit absolutely stupid punchlines that go from so bad it’s good territory to just unabashedly ridiculous and embracing itself as such. I love the falsetto in the chorus even if it is just building up to that stupid title that is nowhere near as clever as Ari thinks it is. By the way, she completely delivers here and it’s a pretty damn great performance from her, one of her most enthusiastic on record, even with her now typical “yuh”s spread throughout. Hell, the rap verse actually works this time mostly because her charisma actually comes through and the trap skitter has some energy this time, unlike “7 rings”. I don’t get the end where she says she was never good at maths, though, because “34 + 35 = 69” is a pretty solid and correct albeit obviously simple calculation. You got the answer, give it a tick in a different colour pen.

Got the neighbours yellin’, “Earthquake!” / 4.5 when I make the bed shake

There’s a song in the top 10 that uses the moment magnitude scale as a sex metaphor. 2020, everyone.

Conclusion

Let’s cut to the chase: Best of the Week goes to Bring Me the Horizon and BABYMETAL for “Kingslayer”, which should have been obvious. I’m so glad I expanded beyond the top 40 on this show. It means I can talk about songs like that in depth. Honourable Mention might actually go to Ariana Grande’s “34+35” on plain fun alone, although the similarly numeric “1x1” did get close. The Worst of the Week is really a toss-up because there was a lot of disposable filler between the good and interesting stuff this week had to offer. I’ll probably go with “Flooded” by M Huncho and Nafe Smallz, with a Dishonourable Mention to “Too Many Nights” by 220 KID and JC Stewart. Both are just impressively lacking in effort or any appeal I can search for, but knowing my luck, they’ll both be “Old Town Road”-level big. Here’s our top 10:

Thanks for reading this! You can follow me @cactusinthebank on Twitter and I need some sleep. See you next week!

[your-brother-crutchie]

I Want You

A sequel to Truth or Dare.

I do actually intend to write another part of this, I just thought that this worked well on its own so look forward to a part three! I’m giving this a tag so they’re easy to find together so just search ‘schenley park au’ on my profile to find them if you ever need to.

(Be grateful that I didn’t title this, ‘Sex Blanket,’ because I was so close to).

TW: Mentions of sexual abuse and abusive, homophobic parents

As Race sighed under Spot’s fingers, tracing gentle circles over his bare back, he tried to stop his mind from racing. He knew that Spot was going to start questioning why he was still awake, especially when he always fell asleep straight away after their starlit meetings in Spot's bedroom, but he just couldn't push everything that Jojo and his friends had said the other night out of his head.

Race loved Spot. There was no getting out of it anymore.

“Hey, what are you thinking of?” There it was. Spot travelled his fingers gingerly to the nape of Race’s neck, smiling when the boy cuddled closer into him as he twirled small curls around his fingers. Race could practically feel Spot’s eyes on him and he was struggling not to blush under it, even though he wouldn't see him with his face buried so tightly into the crook of his neck.


Quickly thinking of something to lie about, Race only looked up slightly when he knew that he could say it convincingly. There was no way that Race was risking letting this slip out, “It’s nothing. I’ve just got some exams coming up and Jojo won’t leave me alone.”

Race drew in a shaky breath when Spot sighed deeply, holding his body against his own tightly as he delicately left a lazy kiss on the top of his head, “What’s Jojo bothering you about?” It was obvious that Spot wasn't going to drop it until Race gave him a proper answer, an answer that didn't feel fake or forced or contrived. Unfortunately, those were the only kinds of answers that Race was willing to give out. He refused to admit to Spot that Jojo wouldn't leave him alone about telling Spot that he was in love with him.


“. . . It’s not important.” Whining slightly when Race felt Spot pulling him away to look at his face, Race tried to hide in his neck for as long as possible before eventually allowing himself to be positioned directly in front of Spot. He shuffled uncomfortably, looking around at anything but the boy in front of him until Spot caught his chin and held it in place.

Raising his eyebrows as Race's eyes still tried to dart away from him, Spot allowed his hand and gaze to soften as it was obvious that Race was panicked. Race could tell that he still wanted an answer out of him but had chosen a softer way of achieving that, “Tonio.”

That was the first time that Spot had ever called him, 'Tonio.' Race had told him that his name was, 'Antonio,' the week before but Spot hadn't used it. He hadn't shortened it into the most adorable nickname that Race had ever heard, especially when Spot was using it. It made him melt slightly, softening in Spot's grip as the boy leaned forwards to press a kiss to his temple
.

As he gulped slowly, Race ran every possible ending to this situation through his head with the possibility of that outcome. He knew that Spot would probably be angry if he told him but he couldn't lie to him anymore. At least when Race thought that all it was was sex, he felt fine lying to him. He could spin a tale from nothing, Spot accepting it immediately. Now, everything was questioned because Spot could tell that something had changed and it made Race want to explode, “My friends were asking why you were sitting with us now and I- um. I told them.”

Although Spot took that same adorable, heart-rushing nickname, the tone was cold and made Race shrink backwards, “Tonio.” He tried to avoid Spot's gaze but, with nothing to hide behind, settled with pulling the duvet tighter around himself. Unfortunately, Spot's twin bed made it difficult to get far away.


“I know but you don’t know them! I tried. Anyway, they're not bothered about that." When Spot eventually seemed to soften, Race sniffed slightly, realising that he should probably tell him what they were bothered about, "Jojo's just worried because I was at Schenley again.” He felt Spot shifting down in the bed, coming closer to Race and pulling the frailer boy's body into his own.

Spot buried his face into Race's hair, voice muffled by the curls as he was obviously trying his best to make Race comfortable, “Again?”


Nodding, Race barely avoided head-butting Spot when he looked up to study his eyelashes, wanting to be able to say it to him but needing something to focus on to hide from his eyes, “Yeah, I used to- uhm. I used to go quite a lot.” Race often focussed on Spot's eyelashes. They were thick and long and pretty and made Katherine jealous which made Race laugh. He smiled slightly thinking about it, glad for the distraction as Spot mulled over what Race had said.

When Spot did speak up, he held Race tightly against his side, obviously beginning to get worried about him. He couldn't blame him. If he'd heard that Jojo was worried then there was something to be worried about. Everyone knew that Jojo knew a hell of a lot more about Race than anyone else and they knew that he had to know some serious stuff. Although he rarely slipped up, anyone could tell that Race had a lot more going on than he let on, “How old were you?” Spot's voice came out in careful whispers against Race's hair as he ran his hand up and down Race's bicep.


“Fifteen.” Shrugging when Spot pulled away to stare at him, Race felt his face flushing and his eyes beginning to sting. He refused to cry because crying would mean that there was something to worry about. 


As Spot shook his head, he heard the calculated sniffs coming from Race and thought of what to do as he spoke, “Jesus, Tonio!” So, yes, Spot had been to Schenley too but as a consenting adult who could defend himself if he needed to. Race was thin and lanky as it was, let alone two years ago. He didn't even want to think about what could have happened to Race there.


“I know, alright, I know! I just-" Race had to stop for a moment, looking away from Spot furiously and swallowing thickly to stop any tears threatening to fall, before he could continue carefully, "Life’s not easy.”


As Spot brushed a hand through Race's hair, Race's heard the sound of the front door clicking and knew that Spot's mum was home. They were usually safe to stay so long as they were quiet, she only ever came in to check on him when the light was on or if she could hear something, so Spot carefully leaned over to flick off the light. He stayed quiet for a moment, yet Race could feel his eyes on him even in the dark.

After Spot's mum had gone passed his door, pausing at it before continuing into her room, Spot let out a breath as he turned to tap his bedside table lamp on. They waited for a moment for the usual creaking of floorboards that signalled that she was walking around the bed and climbing in before Spot started whispering, “You can talk to me.”

A part of Race wished that Spot had just left the light off and gone to sleep, as he sometimes did, but he knew that there was no escaping this conversation, “. . . I’m gay-” He knew that Spot knew that but it was the best way to start his explanation.

Cutting Race off, Spot stifled a bark of laughter by pressing a quick kiss to Race's lips, making the smaller boy's head spin as his eyelids fell closed and his fingers wrapped themselves into the duvet. When Spot pulled back, he chuckled at Race's soft whine before pulling him into a hug, “What? Really? Considering we just fucked, I had no idea!”


Race rolled his eyes as he grabbed a pillow, whacking Spot in the face with it and beginning to grumble softly about being interrupted, “Scotty-”


Quickly leaning over Race to turn the light off again, Spot gestured for him to freeze. Race listened, his eyes flaring when he heard Spot's door beginning to creak. Within the second that it took to open the door, Spot had given Race a good shove until the boy hit the floor with a quiet thud.

"Scott?" Spot's mum's voice was sweet and gentle and worried. It had always been a shock to Race just how well they got on, considering the fact that Spot was thought of as the tough guy around school but without a father around, it wasn't particularly surprising that they'd become incredibly close. It was nice for Race to see but, at the same time, disjointing. Happy family lives weren't something that Race understood and it always shocked him a little that people actually lived like that.

Spot, an amazing actor when under pressure, made a show of sitting up, stretching and yawning. He rubbed at his eyes blearily as if having to focus on his mother before sniffing a little and asking, "Yeah, Mum?" To be an honest, it was amazing.

Stepping in the door slightly but stopping when she saw just how tired her son looked, Spot's mum stayed hovering in the doorway, "Are you okay, honey? I thought I heard something." The danger was that she would come in, sit on the bed and talk to him as she sometimes did. Although Race was hidden on the other side of the bed from where she was currently standing, he'd be in clear view if she came much closer.

"Probably just the pipes." Spot shrugged gently, giving a soothing smile to show that he wasn't worried before making a point of yawning again and settling back against his pillow.

As she nodded, Spot's mum took one more step backward until she was on the other side of the door, "You're probably right. Sorry for waking you, I'll see you in the morning." Race heard her blow a kiss, giggling as Spot groaned and slowly letting the door shut, "Night, Scott."

Spot chuckled, throwing one of his throw cushions at the door and pulling the duvet up to his face, "Night, Mum." He sighed as she closed the door, waiting for the sounds of her settling into bed once again before he clambered out and helped Race up before throwing him pyjamas and getting dressed himself, “I’m sorry, come with me.”

Leading Race to his window, Spot slid it open silently and clambered out onto his fire escape before helping Race out after him. They climbed in silence, only stopping and resting once they'd made it to the roof of the apartment building. The New York skyline glittered around them as Spot pulled Race over to a pile of pillows under a canopy, dropping down and pulling the boy with him, laughing as he let out a squeak, "So, what were you saying?"

Race took his time getting comfy, avoiding the question but eventually sighing when he saw Spot staring at him, "I'm gay and that's an issue. Is this a sex blanket?" He pulled a blanket out from the pile and eyeballed Spot cautiously.

A snort leaping from Spot, he yanked it from Race's hand before laying it carefully over the pair of them, "It is not a sex blanket! Anyway, you're out? You're confident and you're perfect and you help the kids whose parents are shitty."


Immediately scrunching his face up, Race pulled himself away from Spot so that he could say this to his face. It made him angry and he refused to calmly utter it when cuddled against the boy he was sort-of-a-little-bit involved with, “Yes, because I'm one of the kids whose parents are shitty! My family life would be a lot easier if I’d just stayed in the closet! Maybe then my dad wouldn't hit me whenever I got home, my mum wouldn't have to turn a blind eye, and my siblings wouldn't have to see me bruised and crying all the time. I went to Schenley because there were people there who wanted me, which was a lot more than I could say for my family.” His breaths came heavily, his chest heaving as he realised that Spot was staring again, this time out of pity but also admiration.


“Tonio, why didn't you tell me?” Spot thought about it for a second before reaching for Race though quickly gave up when he jerked his body further away from him. Race was not in the mood for comfort and cuddles anymore. If he was being honest, his body was still store from falling and hitting the floor on old bruises.

Race shrugged when he had calmed down a little, struggling to fight the tears that he'd already promised wouldn't come, "I don't like talking about it."

Swinging onto his knees, Spot tried reaching for Race once again, grasping his hand lightly when the boy didn't back away. He clutched it as he spoke, obviously nervous as he refused to look up at Race, “I want you to. With me. I want you to talk to me about things. I want us to talk more. Also, I- I don't want you to go to Schenley Park. You don't have to because- because you are wanted . . . I want you." Spot only looked up when he heard Race sniffing, having failed.

As Race wiped at the tears gathering under his eyes, he tried to hide from the possibility that Spot was actually interested in him by focussing on the other part of the statement. He giggled a little, clearing his watery gaze and turning his fingers so that he could hold Spot too, "We would talk more if you weren't so horny all the time." Pulling Spot closer, Race leaned into his side and chose to move his attention to the skyline.

Spot laughed as he used his other hand to push tears away from Race's cheeks and hold the boy against his chest, "Yeah, well, we don’t have to sleep together every time we meet up. I like spending time with you. It doesn't just have to be sex," A spark of hope flickered into life in Race's chest as his breath caught in his throat, "we can be friends as well.”

Ouch.

Spearmint and Salt

[lubdubsworld]

Open the eyes ( of my heart) ( Min Yoongi / Oc.

Au : Yoongi marries his brothers fiance when his brother makes a better match. He thinks Y/N is still in love with his brother .

this was for the anon who wanted me to write a fluffy Yoongi... 

Rating : M for now. 

I know, i know i shouldn’t be starting another fic but this one just wrote itself.?? 

Prologue : 

Yoongi  watched her covertly, the slender frame draped in ivory silk and lace, her hair braided with tiny white flowers that looked like miniature stars in her ebony hair. She was smiling for everyone's benefit, but he'd spent a long time memorizing those features. He could pick out the slight tilt in her smile, the little sheen of unshed tears and the nervous way she clutched her wedding gown. It made him angry and helpless , the evidence of how much she did not want to be here . With him. 

Her mother stood near a pillar, looking a little out of place and nervous in the gathering of the most rich and famous people in Korea.He smiled softly and moved towards her, confident of being accepted by the kind woman who pretty much personified his idea of perfect mothers. True to form , she smiled wide and held out a hand, pointing softly at the path leading to the gardens. He nodded , even though he was technically running out of his own wedding. Taking her arm in his, he led her to the enclosed lawn, leading her to one of the gazebos. 

"Your daughter is so beautiful. I'm lucky to marry her." He said honestly, bending to fit his his tall frame under the awning. She smiled and fumbled with the small purse in her hand, pulling out a small notepad and pen.Yoongi watched her scribble into the white surface and read it carefully when she held it out. 

She is the lucky one.

He laughed out loud.

"You may be the first mother in law , in history to ever say that." He said , reaching out to squeeze her hand. She stayed quiet for a few seconds, looking at him with searching brown eyes. He watched the way her feelings played out in her eyes and realized that this was why Y/N was so easy to read. She had been brought up by this incredible , loving giving woman, who wore her heart on her sleeve and the trait had transferred on to her. She could never be untrue to what she truly felt. Which made the whole marriage ahead of him, that much harder. He was abysmal at doing things right and now that some odd twist of fate was offering him a second chance with her, he did not want to screw it up.

She's not happy.

"I love your daughter very much.I'm sorry things worked out this way , but you must believe I did everything I could to set things right." He said,  feeling oddly defensive. She bowed her head in response.

She is very fond of you. Old friends are old friends. 

Yes, Friends. That magical word. He didn't do friends. Especially not with girls who set his nerves on fire. Friendships made you liable. And he'd learned the hard way that liabilities pretty much had a way of teaming together and kicking your ass when you least expected it. Case in point, his forced marriage to  Y/N. 

"She's kind. Kind enough not to kill me on our wedding night maybe. But I'm not putting my hopes up. She does love someone else after all. " He said, only marginally kidding. Even though technically it wasn't his fault that they were in this situation, he doubted if Y/N would see it that way. And he couldn't really blame her.

You believe she loves your brother. 

The words, on paper had a sort of ringing finality to them, making it difficult for him to breathe. He didn't want to see those words written down. Definitely not on his wedding day. He moved to leave but her slender fingers closed on his wrist, tugging insistently. He turned around and blinked.

Don't give up on her. 

That made him smile mirthlessly.

He thought of the ceremony he'd just attended, of the gifts and overflowing wine . The deals that had been signed, the shares that had changed hands and the entire Korean economy that had taken a turn with it. Not to mention the lives that were hanging on the hinge of this marriage. 

Giving up wasn't really an option. 

~~~~~

"The moon looks lovely tonight." 

He blinked at the sound of her voice, momentarily unsure ,  if he was imagining it. He clearly hadn't expected me to come looking for him. Certainly not to the balcony of our wedding night suite. He had discreetly informed his assistant to prepare a separate room for me in the opposite wing. He's also asked a reluctant hoseok to pass on the information to Y/N. 

Yet, here she was, dressed in a laughable excuse for a gown, with more lace and ribbons than he'd care to untie. Not that he was thinking of untying them. Of Course. 

"Did you have trouble finding your room? I can ask someone to take you-"

"I wanted to give you something." She said, hesitating a bit to come closer. He found it oddly endearing , helping her out by shrugging out of his suit jacket and handing it to her. She shook her head and hugged her arms across herself instead. 

"Could you.. could you come inside?"

Curious , he followed her into the suite, noting the way she discreetly led him away from the bedroom and near the sitting room. She chose a single arm chair and settled down, still looking like a startled rabbit. He took pity on her and sat a good ten feet away. 

"This is something that's been in my family for several generations." She said softly, fumbling with the small pocket in her gown and withdrawing a velvet covered ring box. He blinked in disbelief. 

"Wait, is that..."

"Its an infinity ring. It belonged to my great great grandmother and well, she got it from a young boy she fell in love with when she was a little girl."

"Not your great great grandfather?"

"Not my great great grandfather. She carried it till the day she died, wearing it in a little necklace . " She fumbled again and this time drew out a platinum chain with a small catch.

"I don't think..."

"I want you to have it , because of two reasons. One, You are my husband and I meant those vows I said out there. I cannot promise you love Yoongi, but I will be faithful, loyal and I will respect you. I'll be your friend. Two, I want you to look at this ring everytime you get tempted to do something that may jeapordize our ...friendship. I married you because I had to. But that doesn't mean I won't leave you when I want to." She said firmly.

He blinked at the words .

"Wow, an ultimatum. You know, all I heard in that speech is that you don't want to leave me, now." He grinned.

She didn't smile back.

Sighing, he held out a hand, watching the ring catch the light as she dropped it into his palm. He took it and slipped it into his pant pocket , waching as she moved to leave. Near the door, she paused to turn and look at him.    

"So friends?" She asked, smiling lightly.

"Of Course. Old friends are old friends.." He said , enjoying the way the light set her hair glowing.

chapter one : 

Tiger Lilies stand for Pride and Wealth. The one's born with the pleasure of power in their hands, but bear the weight of the crown on their heads.

I woke up sweating, icy fingers squeezing my throat and my tongue as dry as sandpaper. Water. I needed water. There was a cut glass decanter of it, next to my bedside table and I poured myself a glass, taking a generous sip and trying to remember what had made my return to consciousness so suddenly. What had I been dreaming about? 

The answer came to me in disjointed images .

Yunsu.

Yoongi.

my mother.

my sister.

Shaking my head to clear the haze and taking another quick gulp of the cool water , I swung my legs off the bed, rising up to stand in the middle of the room. The air was stifling, I realized , although it was almost mid winter. Stifling but cold , and I felt myself shiver as an errant breeze swept past me, courtesy the window that had somehow slid open during the night. Moving to the window, I hesitated, staring out into the darkness. my room overlooked the river and even in the darkness the steady ebb and flow of the water was clearly visible. Each gentle wave caught some invisible source of light and twinkled merrily .

It was calming, watching the water but it also left my mind free to ponder about things that I didn't really want to think about . Not yet. Maybe it wasn't healthy to stifle down painful emotions but the thought of confronting all the pain, disappointment and hurt that was simmering just below the surface of my heart, was nothing short of terrifying. I didn't want to be the girl who suffered a nervous break-down on the night of her marriage. I really didn't. Turning away from the window, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror near the dresser and I sighed. 

I had lost a lot of weight in the two or three weeks leading up to my wedding and despite the endless spa appointments and massages and treatments, the gauntness in my face was clear to see. my cheeks were thinner, the area around my eyes looked a little grayish and the pallor of my skin looked decidedly unhealthy. Only my hair had somehow stayed unaffected, looking glossy and healthy with a extra bounce and shine. The tips fell past my back now, almost touching my waistline. I had never been fond of over long hair but I liked this new look. It was so easy to hide behind long hair. 

Despite myself I felt myself remembering the day everything had changed.

 I had been so eager to get my hair styled for the press conference. The one that would announce me as Yunsu 's future bride. What had happened that day, I thought wildly...Everything had been going so smoothly..... And then ...

"You're awake?" 

the voice jolted me out of my thoughts and I took two steps back, fingers moving to my mouth to stifle the scream that threatened to burst out of me. Yoongi stood at the door, his lean frame effectively filling the entire doorframe. 

"I... What are you doing here?" I blinked at him. To my discomfort, he stepped in, lightly closing the door behind himself. I stared at him beseechingly , not entirely sure I wanted to know what he was up to.

"Don't be upset. I just got news that some paparazzi might still be in the building and well, it would be bad news if they caught us coming out of opposite ends of the hotel after our wedding night. I'll sleep on the couch, so you needn't worry." He said casually, already moving to the small couch in the corner of the suite. I could only stare in disbelief. 

"Paparazzi? If they're in the hotel, why aren't you kicking them out?" I said , confused. 

"Well, it's a little past one in the morning, honey. I don't think it would be fair to the other guests if I went around demanding to check all the rooms . " He said it with an amused tint to his tone. I flushed and looked away. I wasn't even sure how I felt about this. I knew my mind wanted to feel furious  but I was too exhausted to feel anything but tired. 

As I stood there, uncertain what to do, I noticed that he was twice as long as the couch and it made me want to laugh. Shaking my head , I walked over to him and lightly prodded his shoulders. He peered over his comforter .

"You can sleep in the bed with me. It's big enough for both of us." I said calmly. It was true. I didn't feel anything for him other than than friendly affection and I certainly didn't want him to sleep on that minuscule couch when he was technically the owner of the entire building. 

To my surprise he gave me a heart stopping grin, before jumping up and walking over to the bed in two long strides. Before I could say another word he had settled in, pulled the blanket over himself and turned away from me. I glanced at his back, noting the lean lines and realized that I wasn't the only one who had lost weight. Yoongi looked thin as well, his lean waist and broad shoulders offsetting the stark pallor of his face .

Smiling despite myself, I slid into the opposite side of my bed. I didn't really blame him for all the things that had happened. Not really. Of course, he could've stopped the marriage if he wanted to but I knew, deep down that it didn't work that way in real life. Cinderella stories were all good in books and dramas but in real life people had a way of choosing the easy way out. Not that I thought Yunsu had chosen the easy way out by marrying someone else but.... 

Sighing I shook my head to clear my thoughts. I didn't want to spend another sleepless night going over the same things over and over again.

I had married Yoongi.

By choice.

Even though his father had given my father an ultimatum about it, deep down I knew I would have agreed anyway.

I had felt...something for Yoongi, watching him struggling to get his feet back on the ground after the accident and knowing that I could help him out , I had made the decision. I had told myself a billion times that I wouldn't regret it. That I would do my best to make it work, because...well because Yoongi deserved it. 

We may not love each other but there was no reason we shouldn't have a civil marriage , based on friendship and mutual respect. 

And a small part of me had wanted to get back at Yunsu as well. 

I turned away to the wall, staring sightlessly at the paintings on the wall, feeling the first gentle tug of sleep on my senses when his smooth, deep voice came drifting over. 

"Do you hate me , Y/N?" he asked, gently. 

The words felt like a dousing of cold water and I felt chilled to my bones. Hate was such a strong and evil thing to feel and I realized with a shock that I felt stupidly, ridiculously hurt that he would think me capable of something like that. 

"Why would you think that? I've done nothing but agree to all your requests" my voice trembled a little. 

"That's precisely why I'm asking." He replied .

I bit my lips , not sure what to say and finally gave up trying to do the right thing. 

"I'm not happy." I admitted weakly. 

Silence greeted my words and another cold breeze picked up somewhere. I hugged myself tighter and waited for him to reply. The silence felt oddly suffocating and I felt like a drowning child. So I rushed to fill the air.

"I'm not an idiot, you know. I know that fairytales don't exist in real life. I know its irrational for me to think that Yunsu could just throw it all away for me. And i certainly don't stay up nights wishing he had fought for me a little harder.." The words caught in my throat and I swallowed the sob that rose inside my.

I couldn't cry! Not in front of him. 

"Is that how you see yourself?" He said softly. 

"Don't you?" I said helplessly. I was so tired and so exhausted. I wanted to sleep and never wake up. 

Again the silence , hard and cold. 

and then I went stiff as a board when I felt his arm around me, pulling me close till I was nestled against his chest, warmth radiating from every inch of him as his jaw rested against the side of my head.

"When I look at you I see a girl who has hair like silk, that tumbles down my back in ways that defy all laws of nature. I only see that warm glow on your face, the way it seems to reflect all the warmth and kindness inside you. when I look at you, sometimes , I'm practically consumed by the savage, mindless, visceral yearning. It makes me want to draw you close and do something positively savage to you." His hot breath brushed my ear and I knew I'd skipped a couple of heartbeats. 

But he wasn't finished. 

"I admire your fierce loyalty to your mom and sister and your brave resourceful spirit. I'm driven wild, knowing that somewhere inside you is some untapped well of passion and heat and desire that no one has touched yet. And i want it. Desperately. Like a man dying of thirst needs water. And I want it all for myself. " He said, brushing his lips across my bow. 

Before I could reply, he moved away from me, getting out of bed in one strong movement. 

"This isn't going to work. I'll take the couch in the sitting room." 

And he went out of the room, lightly closing the door behind him. 

"These are too much!" I protested, wide eyed and shocked at the number of dresses littering the couch in front of me. Shades of blue, green and yellow lay scattered all over , their patterns muted and depressing. 

" You're not a nobody. you're the wife of a successful, wealthy businessman. Your duty to your husband extends to your wardrobe. When you appear in public, embarrassing Yoongi shouldn't be an option." Mrs. Min said in a matter-of-fact tone. I struggled not to take offense. I knew that the lady was just being honest. 

Next to  her,  Yoongi's sister, Yoojin looked bored and impatient. My sister glanced at both the ladies and suddenly grabbed my arm. 

"Mrs . Min can we please continue after lunch?" she said brusquely, ignoring the older lady's protests and grabbing my wrist in a painful grip. i barely bowed before being dragged out of the shop while an angry Mrs. Lee called out after us. 

My sister stopped near a small icecream parlor before releasing me.

"what are you doing? " 

"There's something I need to ask you." she said eagerly.

i blinked.

" Do you intend to stay married to Yoongi  forever? Have you forgotten Yunsu." she said urgently. I moved back and glared at her.

"I don't see how you could think something like that!! " I said seriously. 

" Yunsu is thinking of dissolving his marriage." 

Ringing silence met her words and I felt the world tilt on its axis.

"what?" I whispered.

"I wasn't planning on telling this to you. I care for Yunsu and You. And ultimately i do believe that you and Yunsu have something...special. I wouldn't want you guys  to live a miserable life because of the people around you."she said bitterly. 

"You think I can get out of this marriage?" I shook my head . It made no sense to me. 

"I think you're both idiots who believe in doing the right thing even if it means crushing your own dreams. I don't find your actions heroic. If you love someone, if being with someone makes you happy, you should be with them. Yunsu's wife makes even Mrs. Min look like a Disney princess by comparison and I'm not saying it will be easy. But you need to think about this. If you are willing to put everything on the line for Yunsu. think about it."

I made to move away but Eun Sang quickly grabbed my wrist. 

"What are you talking about? You sound insane. I'm married and Yunsu's married.. what could possibly change?" I said, confused. And hopeful. The thought of being with yunsu made me giddy with relief for so many reasons. Yunsu was so familiar, so sweet and so good to me. 

So unlike Yoongi who made my breath stop and my heart pound. 

"He wanted me to tell you he's working on a plan. " she muttered , reluctantly. 

"Did he say he wanted to meet me?" I said urgently. 

Bona looked thoughtful and then shook her head.

"not now. Next week, there's a charity Gala for my mother's NGO. I think Yunsuand his wife will visit then. Just make sure you accompany Yoongi when he comes. I'll find a way to make you two meet. "

"Next week?" 

"Next Week."

Guilt washed over me as I accepted the rest of the shopping, trying on outfits and even picking one out for the supposed Gala. I couldn't help but feel that Yoongi would be crushed if he found out my reason for wanting to attend. But I knew that it was immaterial.Yoongi knew about me and Yunsu. He may be infatuated with me now, but he deserved to be married to a girl who could return his love.

Not a girl who loved someone else. 

So really I was doing him a favor. 

Author's note. : comments are really welcome!! i really love it when you guys come talk to me about what you thought ....

[maxfieldparrishes]

shake the bones

part II. What’s past stays with you. (Lelouch/Kallen)

(read on AO3)

She can feel his eyes, the question in them. She doesn’t know if she should answer. 

His breath is warm on her back, his hand on the curve of her hip, fingertips lightly tracing the jut of her pelvis. 

“I suppose you want to know,” she whispers, breaking the heavy silence. Her words take a hammer to it, and it shatters. Instantly, she is awake. 

“I am curious, I won’t lie,” Lelouch whispers back, “but you know you don’t have to. It’s not important.” 

He won’t lie? That’s a first. 

Kallen shifts, stretches her legs against his own. His lips drowsily linger, half-open, against the nape of her neck, and for a moment it is so, so incredibly tempting to draw herself closer to him, surrender to his warmth and fall gracelessly back into sleep... but Kallen has never taken the easy path, and she isn’t about to start now. Unknowingly her hand covers his own against her skin, before she shifts further on her side and that same hand balls the sheets into its fist. 

“It was Xingke,” she admits after several slow and indolent heartbeats, his hand still warm against her. “He understood me. He was the only one who... didn’t expect anything, or want...” She takes a breath. “He was the only one who understood what I was willing to give.” 

Lelouch’s breathing hitches behind her, but only for a moment. Then he chuckles dryly. “At least it wasn’t that blond Britannian oaf.” The oaf’s name is dancing in his mind just out of reach, but it’s not important. There are only two people who matter right now: the two of them, and maybe the ghost of Xingke that Kallen has brought with her. 

Kallen hums a little. “No. I have more self-respect than that and you know it.” 

“Xingke is remarkable,” he whispers behind her. “You could have chosen worse.” 

She can’t help but laugh at that. “Truth be told,” she says, a melancholy smile on her face, “I think he was just as frustrated as I was.” 

“Frustrated? With what?” 

“This,” she says, waving a hand around. “Trying to find a place. The newness of it all. Xingke and I, we’d been soldiers so long, we didn’t know how to be anything else. Sometimes I think that I still don’t know.”

“But you did what I asked,” Lelouch responds, his voice low and quiet. “You lived on.”

“Mm. I guess so,” Kallen says, and leaves it at that, but there’s something she’s not telling him, and they both know it. 

“And? There’s something else, isn’t there?” 

Lelouch’s natural curiosity never rests, even when the rest of him is tired and sated--she came home from class one day to find him with a fully cooked dinner, a stack of her textbooks, and a laundry list of questions about the assignments on her syllabi. Kallen had racked her memory until it was a disjointed mass for recollections of their shared time at Ashford, because she could not, for the life of her, remember a single solitary instance of Lelouch actually studying, even if one of the council members had been there to hold a gun to her head. Lucky for her, they weren’t.  

“You’re nosy,” she complains as she pushes his hand away to roll over onto her stomach. He’s already died once, and if he keeps on being snoopy she’s going to kill him again. 

“It’s part of my charm.” He takes a long time stretching next her, less athletic--reaching his fingertips toward the headboard, toes towards the foot of the bed, almost like he’s trying to pull himself apart. “There’s something else, isn’t there?” he repeats. “Or someone.” 

She doesn’t answer him right away. Instead she rearranges her head on the pillow and half-twists back onto her side again and mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like “C.C.” 

For a moment Kallen thinks he actually has died again, because she can feel the sudden halt in his breathing, and the silence that comes after seems like lasts for eons. Then he chuckles, heaves a sigh, and flops onto his back. 

“I’m not going to ask you what you’re thinking,” she says at last, head pillowed on her arms. “It’s my life, and I don’t have to justify anything to you.” 

“No, you don’t,” Lelouch agrees. “I’m just...”

“Startled?”

“The connotation is a little too intense. I would say surprised rather than startled.” 

Kallen rolls her eyes and snorts. “Of course you choose to be pedantic now, of all times.” She watches him lazily. “I’m glad you’re not completely shocked. I was.” 

“No. C.C. is... quite old. I doubt she has any sort of... preference... still. You, on the other hand... I’m not completely surprised. No, what I really am surprised about is the fact that you two managed to keep it under wraps for so long.” 

“I suppose you want to know about this too, huh,” Kallen says. “I won’t give you a blow-by-blow, but... do you want me to tell you what happened?”

He doesn’t say anything, but the look on his face speaks for itself. 

“Aomori,” she says. “The year you lost your memory, when she and I were living together.” Kallen rolls onto her back to match him and wraps her arms around herself. “That was the first time. I was in a spiral, she was morose--more so than usual, I mean. So we got a bottle of whiskey for me and wine for her and we got drunk and...” She flaps her hand in the air. “One thing. Another thing. You know.” 

Lelouch doesn’t respond to her right away. Instead, after another beat, he says, “... the first time?” 

It figures that would be the first thing he’d focus on. She thought it would be about their being drunk, although if she’s honest, she and C.C. had gone well past being merely drunk into absolutely shitfaced, and they had both paid dearly for it the next morning. “Yeah. Then a few times, after... after you, then we decided to go our separate ways, at least for a little while. She came back to visit a few times, but nothing else happened.” 

And now she’s gone. Missing, not gone, Kallen reminds herself. C.C. can never be truly gone, just like she’ll never stop being stubborn. It just isn’t possible.

But that’s neither here nor there. She’s leveled with him now, and there’s nothing left to say about it. It happened and it’s in the past, which is where she thought he’d also stay. 

And to top it all off, she’s awake now, and the warm, mellow sleepiness that had settled over her has completely evaporated. Kallen sighs, kicks the covers off, and rolls complainingly, groaning, out of bed. 

She finds her shirt from last night and her underwear and dresses, only pausing when she hears Lelouch’s voice from behind her. 

“Going somewhere?” he asks, and when she turns to look at him, he’s sprawled out onto her side of the bed, grinning lazily. 

“I have homework to do,” she says pointedly, taking a moment to adjust her underwear on her hips, shaking out her hair. 

Lelouch stretches out again, and she can still feel his eyes on her: on her lean thighs, on the small, toned sliver of her abdomen, on the slow spread of her collarbones under the scooped collar of her overlarge shirt. “Why don’t you bring it in here?” he suggests. “We can work on it together.” 

“It’s prep for gross anatomy,” Kallen tells him. “Labeling diagrams. How much do you know about posterior abdominal viscera?” 

“Bring it in here anyway,” he says. “It’ll give us both something to do. Aside from each other, I mean.” 

Kallen picks up Lelouch’s discarded pullover and pitches it at his face. He halfheartedly puts up his arm, a second too late, and laughs as the sleeves cover his eyes. Much to her embarrassment, she feels a blush creep across her cheeks. 

“Yeah, well, when I’m elbow-deep in a dead guy’s thoracic cavity, just know that I’m thinking of you, and how I’d like to kill you. Again.” 

“That’s sweet of you,” he says, as she opens the door, retrieves her anatomical atlas and her worksheets from the kitchen table, and returns, dumping them unceremoniously on the bed. Kallen decides not to dignify his comment by making a snarky retort. 

Instead, she sits cross-legged on the bed and turns on the lamp. She opens her book to the correct page, rifles through the papers in her folder to find the correct packet, and hums a little as she looks from drawing to book, book to drawing. Lelouch rolls onto his elbow, props his head on his hand, pulls the covers up a little bit farther, and watches intently as she points out viscera and veins, tissues and structures.

He watches Kallen become absorbed in her work, oblivious to his gentle gaze, and finds himself thinking that things have certainly changed, and for the better--it’s an unusual position for him, to be the one who is taught instead of the one doing the teaching. Kallen mumbles something about stroma and parenchyma and epithelial cells, erasing something on her paper, and Lelouch decides he doesn’t mind at all. 

A couple of things:

1. Clearly this is not following the movie!verse canon. Consider it an independent R3, an alternate re:surrection, I don't care. That means none of the changes the movies made are present here - Shirley's still dead, etc, etc. My expectations for the movie were low to begin with, and still Sunrise managed to disappoint me even more. I'm actually kind of impressed to see how badly they scuttled their own creation. Oh well, they want to run their franchise and its redeeming qualities into the ground, that's their choice. 2. This is going off my vague memories that some people looked at the books on Kallen's bookshelf at the end of R2, and translated the titles as being medical textbooks. Ergo, Kallen's a medical student here. Did I dream that or was that actually a thing? 3. I'm not going to stop shipping these two. Expect updates in the future because I'm not out of ideas yet. 4. Kallen deserves better treatment from the narrative than what she's gotten, so I'm giving it to her because I love her, even though whoever wrote these movies clearly gave less than two shits about anyone who wasn't C.C. or Lelouch. 5. Kiss my ass, Sunrise.

[joel-furniss-blog]

Glitch Art

Digital Manipulation is easy. That’s why I like it. You can pour hours into a painting or a drawings and have it come out mediocre, but with digital manipulation it only takes minutes to make a mediocre piece, and minutes more to bump it up to a good one. And if one is using Photoshop, it takes little skill to create a piece since all the necessary tools are laid out for you from the start, it’s as simple as diving right in.

Mindless? Perhaps. But I see the mindless as blissful. When I’m handling acrylics I suddenly become hyper aware of my surroundings for the fear that’ll splatter paint where it is best not splattered. Especially my jeans. Many times I have seen splotches of drying acrylic on my black denim and felt a dampened mood for the rest of the day because of it. Paired with other problems such as replenishing paint, cleaning brushes, and keeping my hands clean, I feel as if painting is one of the most disconnected methods of creating for me. While others might feel differently, I think there is a very prominent disconnection between me and my work in that particular field, but no such problem presents itself when working on a computer. Of course there’s the physical disconnect of working with the digital format, the barrier of the screen versus the physicality of the brushstrokes, but I’ve never been that wild with the brush anyway, and personally I feel more invested when I work with a computer. Swinging wildly with the brush might capture a raw physicality, but I think such erratic movements can break away from a trance or streak, having to start the process over again. But with a computer it’s possible to sit motionless for hours on end, building work with little to no distractions if the conditions are right. With Photoshop as a tool as well, it’s possible to build an entire portfolio out of a single image, simply by saving each step of the editing process. Everything is recordable and no changes are permanent, it’s possible to go one with an image then revert back to a previous step and create an entirely new creative avenue.

The ability to create art using the digital medium is a relatively new idea, forming at the dawn of our contemporary age in the 1970’s and becoming a heavily tapped medium in our lifetimes as an inescapable wave of technology is surrounding us. Technology as both a medium and a theme has been used as the basis for many works from David Hockney’s iPad paintings to Rachel Maclean’s multimedia explorations of the changing technological based world. And in such technologically turbulent times, when the digital is in our pockets and ever evolving, it still remains one of the most untapped and unregistered artistic movements in recent memory, mostly due to the adopted monikers and solely internet-based portfolios of many artists. With digital artwork in a digital age so much is representable and rapid that intellectual resources are incredibly vast, from the pop culture orientated alternate reality art, to epically scaled sci-fi or fantasy pieces, to more nostalgic based interpretations of retro games consoles and computers.

And this is one of the ideas behind my point of study, Glitch Art. Technological faults like glitches and software bugs now are rarely seen what with the increase in improvement on our electronic devices, but most adults today recall examples of their Nintendo 64’s or PlayStation crapping out on them, leaving them with repeated levels of vibrantly coloured pixels on an infinitely paused screen, or a character’s sprite replaced with a mangled mesh of colours or garbled texts. While unwanted a quickly reset by various tricks, there was something interesting about these small skips in the game’s code, a break from the regular to show the man behind the curtain, some even spawning entire characters and separate canons such as Pokémon Red and Blue’s MissingNo. But the idea of the glitch isn’t the only intriguing thing about them, the visuals also play a heavy part in the founded interest. Something about the broken yet still somewhat whole visual of a glitched-out screen is innately visual intriguing, the disjointed visage and analog blocks or waves breaking the screen definitely interested me when I was younger, a sort of uncapturable frame of a mistake unrepeatable by most means and easily reset in a few seconds.

Their difficult to explain, how they come about and even when they do appear, assort of indescribable corruption in code producing something sublime and even frightening, deconstructed and bent data that can twist human forms to become near unrecognisable pulps of colour and shape, broken to their barest forms on the screen. This sort of bent form is a change from the normally sought graphics we want, yet they themselves are interesting for their loaded aesthetics and offers the commentary of technological control and the usurp of such, instead of technology controlling us, we control technology.

While I thoroughly enjoy this form of digital manipulation and would like to replicate some aspects of it, it’s difficult to contextualise it into my project. I could rationalise it as my original view of Salford being warped, link it to the bad things I’ve read about Salford on the internet, or talk about how living hear is sort of like a glitch in my life. Or I could say that I’ve done enough far-fetched rationalising in my past sets and just enjoy making some mindless imagery.

One of my main interests in glitches and glitch art is the repetition of chosen sections, in which code is repeated over and over, sometimes with changes to their scale, placement, and colour to create a disjointed or continuous effect. I enjoy the use of repetition in my work to really push a point or idea, or just to seem heavy, and using Photoshop’s many selection tools and layers, the repetition is simple. I’ve also been playing with the oversaturated and inverted colours of these glitches, using sharpening tools and filters to create pixelated sections and disjointed blocks of neutral or vibrant colours. My subjects were taken from previous scans and photographs taken throughout my project with the present goal of changing them and altering them into completely different pieces while still keeping some level or relatability to the originals, sort of reusing the small recycling motif of my sculptures and paintings.

Overall, even if they had little driving force behind them in the way of rational relation to my original working ideas, I feel like the work I have produced is very good, although I could have defiantly produced a wider portfolio but unfortunately due to approaching deadlines, I must balance my focuses in their direction rather than this one. I feel like I will definitely continue with these glitch inspired visuals in future projects, or at least digital manipulation via Photoshop but hopefully with a renewed sense of reason in doing so.

Sources used:

- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glitch_art

- https://www.reddit.com/r/glitch_art/

- http://www.theperipherymag.com/on-the-arts-glitch-it-good/

- https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2013/oct/25/rise-of-glitch-art