#framing my hair with straightened pieces genuinely looks so much better and I’m okay with my face now

[byakuyasdarling]

The never-ending wish of wishing my genes were edited so I didn’t have curly hair LMAO

the guy my dad used to teach who called my natural hair ugly was unironically my wake-up call and I’ve genuinely looked so much better since.

[butwhyduh]

Jumping

Tim drake x reader

This is during the time that Dick has to fake his own death. I’m also ignoring most of canon tbh. Mentions suicide ideals.

You worried about Tim. I mean, you always had since you met him in a coffee shop and they gave him your order instead of his and all he did was ask for a shot of espresso to go with it. But tonight you were terribly concerned because Tim was so sad that he was dull. His shiny black hair hang limp and his bright blue eyes looked dull and blood shot.

You couldn’t exactly blame him. It was only 2 week before that his brother Dick had died. He hadn’t touched his computer all day but instead sat staring at various places around his apartment. You forced him to eat a very late meal and he took all of 3 bite from his food.

You washed up and went back in the living room for him to be gone.

“Tim? Tim?” You asked. You noticed the window to the fire escape was open. You walked over and shivered at the cold breeze.

He was standing on the edge of the roof and you froze. Your first thought was ‘is he going to jump?’ Your heart pounded as you gently called him and it scared you even more when he didn’t respond.

“Tim? Timothy? Tim, what are you doing?” You said with fear creeping in your voice. There was no way that you could climb the stairs up a level to stop him if he jumped right now. He looked down at you disoriented.

“What?”

“Please step back. You’re- you’re scaring me. Tim, please,” you said and he took a step back but looked bewildered. You quickly climbed the stairs.

“What’s wrong?” He asked in a daze. You pulled him into a hug and farther from the edge. Your body was shaking and he confusingly pat your back reassuringly.

“Don’t scare me like that,” you chided him before mentally kicking yourself. If he was that bad, he needed support not anger. He really didn’t seem to get it.

“What are you talking about? What’s got you so scared?” He finally said clearly.

“I thought- I thought you were going to jump,” you said burying your head in crook of his neck. Your fingers gripped the back of his shirt tightly and you listened to his heartbeat. You might never let go of him.

“Oh shit. I wasn’t- no. I just needed to think,” he said rubbing your hair gently. “Sorry I scared you.”

“It’s okay. I’m just worried. It’s a lot to lose your brother. Maybe you should talk to someone,” you said gently. He looked at you guiltily.

“I’ve been a little too lost in it, hu? Sorry. It’s just that.... I never expected this to happen. He always seemed invincible. He’d jump off the roof with no hooks or nets and swing on light poles before landing on the ground and wouldn’t hurt a thing. He’d take on metas and come out unscathed. That was just Dick, you know?” Tim said after a minute. “Nobody knew how he did it.”

Tim pulled you both to sit on a lawn chair on the roof. Your fingers played with the back of his hair and you couldn’t stop looking at him because you had never been so worried to lose Tim before. He flinched at the sight of how you looked at him. You were genuinely terrified earlier.

“I wouldn’t jump. I wouldn’t do that. Especially not to you,” Tim said and it scared you that you weren’t sure if he meant that he’d never do it or not where you’d possibly see. “Don’t worry. I’m right here.”

You let yourself believe that and you leaned into him, pressing your ear against his chest. His heartbeat calmed you and you listened to it as he rubbed your back. He stared out at the sky and Tim didn’t know how long you were both out there before he noticed that you had fallen asleep. He smiled a little.

Then his next thought was the logistics of getting you down to your bed without waking you. The fire escape wasn’t exactly built for carrying people through. Soft goosebumps were on your arms in the cold and Tim carefully picked you up and miraculously made it back into your apartment. After a few hair raising seconds where he almost smacked your head and feet on a door frame, he managed to get you in bed.

You hands had a death grip on his shirt and Tim was pulled into bed. It wasn’t the worst idea to get some sleep. And he certainly felt that he owed you some peace of mind after he scared you so bad. When was the last time he fell asleep? He laid back and you clung to him tightly.

The next morning you woke up warm. Far too warm. And arm was thrown over your face that you wiggled out from under and another held your back. You stretched your fingers that felt like they had been gripping something all night. The sun was out and Tim was still in bed. You put the pieces from the night before together and looked up at his face.

There was no scowl or wrinkle in his brow. He looked peaceful. His lips had a slight pout in sleep. His face had a light smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks and his hair had fallen over his eyes. You gently brushed it back to get a better look at his beautiful face. You held the back of his head as light as you could while staring at him. You almost never got this view and you just watched him sleep for a few minutes.

“Isn’t it rude to stare,” he said after a while. You jumped a little and laughed.

“Did I wake you?” You asked.

“No. I think I actually got a full night sleep,” Tim said and he still hadn’t opened his eyes.

“Yeah, we should probably get breakfast,” you said moving to get up. Tim wrapped his arms around you tighter and squished you to his chest. You squeaked.

“Not yet. A few more minutes,” he mumbled almost back asleep. You chuckled and booped his nose. Tim’s eyes flew open. “What was that?”

“Waking you up,” you said and he gave you a fake glare before his arms slowly moved. Then Tim attacked your sides with a tickle. You shrieked and jumped back before he stopped. He smiled at you almost ruefully before gently kissing you chastely. His smile fell when he pulled back.

“I’ve got to go to Bludhaven today. Take care of some of his stuff that he’d want to keep,” Tim said and you frowned.

“Do you need me to go?” You were still worried about him.

“No, Jason is going. Don’t worry about me, okay,” Tim said seriously. “I need to get up because he’ll be here in 30 minutes? Maybe?”

The knock on the door said that his timing was a little off. Tim got up to go answer it. Jason stood there and he frowned as he looked Tim over.

“That’s your clothes from yesterday.”

“I’ve got to change,” Tim said, letting him in. You came out of the room with a sweater over your clothes and smiled at Jason who nodded his head at you. Tim went in the bedroom to change.

“Hey,” you whispered, barely audible. Jason looked at you confused. You hadn’t really interacted much before. “Watch out for him. He’s not okay. Alright?”

Jadon just nodded. “Anything I should know?”

“No. Not really. He scared me last night,” you admitted as you put on a pot of coffee. Jason gave you a look that clearly read ‘do I need to kick his ass?’

“What did he do?”

“He just stood on the roof edge. I thought- I thought he was going to jump,” you whispered and Jason’s face dropped. Tim hadn’t exactly had the most self preservation in his history.

“Shit, seriously?” He said with a sigh. You nodded.

“But he just seemed confused when I found him. I’m worried. Just watch out for him, okay?” You said.

“What are you two talking about?” Tim said walking in the room, throwing on a tie.

“Really? A full suit?” Jason said rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, one of us needs to look like a functional adult in case someone stops by. I can’t exactly wear sweats everywhere as WE’s CEO,” Tim said. You straightened the tie and collar.

“... and then there is you,” Tim said looking at Jason after you were done. “You look like you tattoo out of the back parking lot of a Denny’s.”

“Maybe I do,” he said dryly with a little curl to his lip. “Come on. We don’t want to be late.”

Tim nodded and gave you a kiss and Jason groaned by the door. He gave the ‘come on’ hand gesture. Tim rolled his eyes.

“I don’t know when I’m going to be back. See you later.”

“Bye.”

Half ways down the highway, with Tim as a captive audience, Jason starts to talk.

“How are you doing?”

“Fine.”

“Cut the shit. For real,” Jason said, violently passing a slow car on the highway in his truck. Tim grips the dash and is sure he’s going to die.

“I’m fine. Why do you think I’m lying?” Tim said through gritted teeth. Jason keeps driving roughly.

“Well, your girlfriend thought you were going to kill yourself last night and that isn’t exactly the first thought I’d have if I saw you on the roof. So either she’s being dramatic or you’re acting really off. Which is it, Timbo?” Jason said. Tim never missed Dick more. Jason had the subtly of a butter knife to the gut.

“I might be a little sadder, sure. I mean, my brother died,” Tim said. “Can you drive without trying to kill us?”

“I’m driving fine. Go on,” Jason said, crossing 3 lanes. The squeals of car horns behind them tell Tim he isn’t the only one that doesn’t like his driving.

“I’m gonna die in this car,” Tim muttered. Jason glared at him. “Watch the road! Okay. Fine. I feel numb. Okay? Like I don’t feel happy or sad about anything. And I’m fucking guilty because I should be over the moon because I just moved in with my girlfriend and then...”

“Then your brother died. It’s normal to feel like shit Tim. But to be numb.... you ever think you’re depressed?” Jason asked.

“I don’t know. I have anxiety,” Tim answered.

“You can have both. Is it this exit or the next?” Jason asked two second before the ramp comes up.

“This!” Tim yelped and Jason turned them off to a side road going at least 70 mph. Tim held the dash and considered praying despite being an atheist. Jason finally slowed down enough to not look like he’s driving a getaway car.

“I think you should see a therapist. I can give you mine’s number,” Jason said and Tim quickly turned to look at him.

“I didn’t know you went to therapy.”

“I was tortured, beat to death, and had to dig myself out of my own coffin. Does that seem mentally okay in anyway?”

“I mean, no. But I don’t know,” Tim said with a shrug. He just hadn’t thought about it.

“Anyways that’s not the point. The point is that she’s used to Gotham’s brand of bullshit and will help you. Okay?” Jason said driving into a parking lot and skidding into a space. “If you scare your girl like that again, I’ll knock you out.”

“Yeah. I won’t scare her again. It was an accident. And I’ll talk to your therapist,” Tim agreed. Jason nodded.

“Let’s go do something I’ve been dreading all week. Clean out golden boy’s apartment,” he said with a grimace. And they did. Anything of value was personally taken by the pair. Anything of Nightwing or Robin. Any Flying Grayson stuff. Anything that his brothers had gotten him. A moving service was moving the rest to a storage unit later that day.

Jason sat on the concrete steps outside the apartment and tossed Tim a beer. Tim barely caught it before sitting down himself. Jason pulled out his own.

“Jason, I’ll pay you ten thousand dollars to not drink that before we leave. Can we have this moment at the manor after we survive the drive home?” Tim asked and Jason sighed.

“Sure kid. Dickhead wouldn’t have liked me getting you drunk anyways. Let’s get this stuff back,” Jason said and they both went to the truck.

After dropping off the stuff and talking to Alfred, Tim and Jason were back in the truck. The beers were mercifully forgotten. Jason passed him a paper with a name and number.

“My therapist. You better call them. If not for you, for your girlfriend. You can just talk and shit,” he said not looking off the road. Jason knew better than to think that this kind of thing could be done for someone else. But he also knew it probably only took a tiny push for Tim to get help.

“Yeah, thanks.”

A few hours later Tim sat on his bed with his phone in hand. Yeah, he needed to call them.

[real-work-of-art]

Golden

A self indulgent story ft. a very soft boyfriend!h 

A/N: Wow, I feel like I am going to throw up. I wrote this a couple weeks ago, with honestly no real intention to post it. But with all these golden music video rumors, now just felt like the perfect time. So here it is! This never would have happened without the kindness and encouragement from @for-fucks-sake-h, @andwhenshesays, @idk-who-she-is, and @smokeinherperfume​. And a very special thank you to @oh-honey-styles​ who read through every small piece of progress and encouraged me practically every single day for the past two weeks. I love you all! Anyway, here is my first ever official piece of writing. I hope you enjoy it!

Word count: 1.7k 

She is beautiful. The way she is curled up on the couch, legs pulled up to her chest, hands pressed between her face and the pillow. Harry sits across the room watching as her eyelashes lightly press against her cheeks and her shoulders move slowly with each inhale. The sunlight is casting a slight golden hue around the room. She was almost too bright for him.

He sits there in complete awe—watching her rest so peacefully. He wonders what she might be dreaming of. Because ever since they met, he only dreams of her. 

Quickly, he stands up from his chair, and walks out of the room, careful not to make too much noise. Entering his bedroom, he walks straight towards the built in bookshelves to the right and grabs his camera off the shelf, quickly checking to make sure it’s charged. 

Harry slowly tiptoes back into the living room, stopping behind the couch to make sure she is still asleep. As he peers down at her, he desperately wants to reach down and move the stray piece of hair that has fallen across her face, but he resists out of fear of ruining the moment. Instead he holds his camera up to his face, adjusting the settings and snapping his first picture. She stirs slightly at the sound of the camera's shutter but remains asleep. 

Harry walks around the couch, back to the chair across from her. He snaps a couple more photos, changing the angles and adjusting his focus, trying to catch the way the soft light of the setting sun drapes over her face. 

After taking at least a dozen photos he starts to look through them, surprised that his amature photography skills were actually able to capture the beautiful image in front of him. 

As he flicks through each photo on his camera he hears a soft shuffling coming from the direction of the couch. Looking up he sees her eyes still closed, arms and legs stretching along the couch. He quickly tucks the camera into the drawer of the side table next to his chair. 

As she opens her eyes she sees Harry looking right back at her with a gentle smile on his face. 

“Hello beautiful,” Harry softly speaks. 

She smiles softly back in his direction, closing her eyes again. 

“Hi,” she mumbles. 

Again, she opens her eyes slowly, immediately catching his gaze. She stretches her arms out in a silent invitation for him to come join her in the small sliver of space on the couch. She’s desperate to feel the comfort of his warm body against hers. Harry slowly stands and takes the few steps over to the couch. Grabbing her hand, he gently pulls her up so he can better fit himself against her. With her head now resting on top of Harry's arm and her right knee slotted between his, she looks up at his face. Her eyes first gaze over his chin, admiring the slightly grown out facial hair. Slowly scanning upwards taking in the soft rosey color of his lips, noticing the slight sunburn on his nose from being out on the boat earlier, and finally catching his green eyes. 

“Wish I could take a picture of you,” she whispers.

A quick zip of panic rushes up Harry’s spine, making his back stiffen up slightly. Does she know? Searching her face for any sign that she’s hinting at something, he realizes all he sees is genuine admiration. He relaxes into her, leaning down to press his lips softly against hers. It’s a gentle kiss filled with so many unsaid declarations of happiness and love. 

Pulling away she looks back up, meeting his eyes that are already staring into hers. “I’m hungry,” she mumbles. 

Throwing his head back, Harry lets out a loud laugh, always finding her honesty and poor timing incredibly endearing. 

“Well let's get you something to eat then,” he says bringing his eyes back to hers, a huge smile spread across his face. 

9 months later

Harry was putting the finishing touches on his dinner spread. Tonight they were celebrating their one year anniversary. Well, one year of knowing each other at least. But since Harry travels so much, he tries to take advantage of any celebration he can with her. 

They opted for a relaxing dinner at home, where they could be comfortable and focused on only each other. Harry put himself in charge of preparing the whole evening. So after lunch he surprised her with an afternoon at the spa, having to push her out the door just a little bit. 

While she was out, Harry got busy trying to make their night special. Cooking a simple but delicious pasta dish, hanging up some gold and silver decorations he found in the garage, and formally setting the dining table with their favorite red wine. On their trip to Italy last month they became obsessed with this wine, which resulted in her trying to fit as many bottles as she could into her luggage. 

Pouring the wine into their glasses, Harry hears the faint sound of the front door opening and closing. Looking at the clock on the oven, he smiles to himself. “Right on time,” he mumbles under his breath while walking to the door with an excited hop in his step. 

“Hello love,” he greets her, wrapping her up in his arms and placing a kiss to her forehead. “How was the spa?” 

“Mmm, could have stayed there all day,” she says into his chest. Slowly moving her head so her chin is resting against his cross necklace, her eyes meeting his. “Thank you,” she says, reaching up to place a quick kiss to his lips.

Smiling down at her, he unwraps his arms, grabbing her hand to lead her into the dinning room. Her eyes dance around every detail in the room. From the beautifully set table to the shimmery decorations, her eyes can’t seem to focus on one thing. 

“Wow Harry. It’s beautiful,” she beams while leaning into his side. 

“Come on, let’s celebrate,” Harry says, taking her hand and leading her to the table. Grabbing their wine glasses, he hands one to her. 

Raising his glass to hers. “To one year,” he says, smiling and tapping their glasses together. 

After finishing dinner they continue to sit around the table, drinking wine while laughing and sharing their favorite memories over the last year. She was currently laughing at Harry’s dramatic retelling of the time she forgot she had invited him over for dinner and a movie, before they had officially started dating. She answered the door in a bubbling face mask and eyes as wide as the pepperonis on the mostly eaten pizza in her living room. 

As her laughs start to die down, Harry looks at her with a smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. She eventually makes eye contact with him again and they just look at each other, smiling like idiots and absorbing the other’s happiness. 

“I have a gift for you,” Harry says breaking the silence. 

“What?! Another one?!” 

Harry simply nods while releasing a quiet “Mhm,” and slowly standing up. 

“Okay now I’m starting to feel bad. The only gift I had planned for you was a pretty amazing blow job followed by some equally amazing sex.” 

Harry looks back at her with raised eyebrows and amusement dancing in his eyes. “Now those are two gifts I am very excited for.” He leans down to place a kiss to her lips before walking out of the dining room. 

Sitting up straight, she places her wine glass on the table and straightens her top. Popping his head in from around the corner, he flashes his bright smile at her. “Close your eyes,” he instructs. 

With a silly smile, she closes her eyes. She hears Harry walk back into the room and around her chair. She could feel him standing across from her. She raises one eyebrow, hoping he is watching her, to tell him she is getting a little impatient. 

Harry speaks in a silky smooth voice, “Ok… open your eyes.”

She opens them slowly, first focusing on his face before looking down at the two picture frames held in his hands. She takes in a small gasp at the warm golden images of her. Instantly her mind transports her back to that afternoon. She had accidentally fallen asleep on the couch while Harry brought in the bags and towels they had brought for their day on the boat. She remembers how gorgeous he looked when she woke up from her nap. How the sun was shining into the room, casting a bronze hue around them, and the white curtains blowing with the wind. 

She stands up from her chair, taking a step closer to him, and slowly running her finger tips along the frames. 

“Harry... these are beautiful.” She could feel her cheeks starting to heat up and the prickle in the back of her eyes becoming stronger. She rarely ever cries, and is fighting back the feeling to do so right now. This is how Harry sees her, glowing and radiant. She looks up into his eyes, but before she could speak Harry interjects. “I just wanted a reminder of how beautiful you are. Then I realized how incredible these would look in the living room, and how much they make me smile. I wanted to share that with you.” 

Placing her hand at the back of his neck, she reaches up to kiss him. Holding him against her lips, trying to transfer all of her feelings into that kiss. She pulls back and looks up into his emerald eyes. “Thank you,” she whispers, lips gently brushing over his. 

Grabbing the frames out of his hand, she gently leans them against the wall. Taking his hand in hers, she begins to lead him out of the room. “We can hang those up tomorrow. Right now I have some gifts I need to give you.” 

Thank you so much for reading! 💕

Can We Fall?

The Night Before

Shut Up And Kiss Me

[gagmebucky]

my first steve fic... don’t drag me about the characterization please i did my BEST and that’s all the matters, really 😌

[boxer!steve. size kink. doll.] 

His jaw ticks. “It’s not a challenge, doll,” he bites out. “It’s a warning. If I tried to get inside you, I’d split you in half in the process.” His eyes flicker down, and your nipples are pebbles against the thin, easily-rippable fabric—you’re testing him, and he’s failing. “Goddamn it,” he hisses underneath his breath. “That - that shouldn’t turn you on.” Bristling, he drops his hand and pedals backward—he’s on his last thread, and it’s his sole chance to make a clear-headed decision. 

in which steve can’t resist what he feels for you. (includes boxer!steve x coach’s-daughter!reader, steve’s pov, dirty talk, mild choking, size kink, grinding, unprotected sex, creampie kink, overstimulation.)

—

Steve Rogers has impeccable self control. He knows how to control his emotions, to maintain a clear head amid the mist of commotion, to command his body to follow his head and not the violent, primal instincts that prickle underneath his skin. 

And despite the lifelong effort required to uphold this principle, he’s found great fortune in the endeavor. Most don’t realize it, but in his occupation, there’s a certain level of restraint necessary in order to be successful. He has experienced it on both ends so he’s aware of just how important it is. 

Growing up, he hadn’t known better. In the numerous instances where he’d been provoked and pushed, he gave in; consequently, suffering gravelly. Knuckles split, bones broken and face bloodied, his anger got the better of him, and his opponents always got the benefit. 

But that’s where your father came in, and showed him the way to fight back and win every time, to redirect his mania into his fists and funnel them in tactful blows that resulted in trophy after trophy. Once Steve learned how to do that, everything became a breeze. It’s more than a combat style but a way of living. 

Ultimately, he gets what he wants because he can make logic-based decisions and utilize his visceral drive in executing them. And a wallet fat with unmatched winnings, a house for his family and a luxurious apartment of his own, his name on the lips of the masses, it’s a fucking amazing life—for the most part, anyway. 

Except for the one part: you.

The problem with self control, he has come to realize, is that when he truly desires something, he sees the cons of that thing. Usually, if it outweighs the pros, he’ll stop it before it begins. However, in the case of you, that formula isn’t working like it’s supposed to. 

You see, he knows he can’t have you, and he knows why. You are the daughter of his mentor, the only child of the single reason that he’s evolved into the East Coast’s Golden Glove Champion three times in a row, and pursuing you is beyond disrespectful. 

So why the fuck can’t he get you out of his head? 

That’s what he keeps asking himself. Another glorious win, and it won’t stop rattling inside his skull like a hammer on a gong. The crowd is chanting his name but yours is beating a tattoo inside his rib cage. The post-win rush surges through his veins and hits harder than any blows he’s ever received but spotting the proud tilt of your lips amongst the masses is like punch from God themself.

His clean-shaven jaw locks as the referee lifts his right arm and everyone goes wild, losing your face in the fanfare. This is the part where he basks in it, where he loses himself in the victory of sweat and blood slick across his skin; money and recognition, a reminder of the advantages of self-discipline; his reward of what he gets when he uses his brain and not the urges that prickle underneath his skin. 

This time, however, it’s not as gratifying as it’s supposed to be. No, it’s fucking agitating because instead of being the thing that gets him what he wants, it’s the obstacle in his way. 

He can’t pin-point exactly why the desire is striking him this intensely but he suspects it has something to do with the fact that you’ve just returned after a while, and your father is still gone—which means you’ll be upstairs in the gym’s apartment, alone, when he comes to see you (and he will come and see you, what’s the quote about looking and not touching?). 

The tension in his muscles advises his better judgement not to. The wild thump thump thump of his heart to the tune of your name dictates he find some other not-forbidden girl to release the mania coiled inside him before he does; that, it’s not like you’d mind he greet you in the morning—in fact, you’d understand. 

Except, he feels like a live wire right now, and there’s a pull inside him that feels like you’re the only thing that can fray his edges back into stability. 

You’re on the counter when he walks in. Barefoot, you’re kneeling on the flat surface to reach a high shelf in one of the kitchen’s cabinets. One arm stretched above your head, you blindly search for the contents for a cup, palm slapping against wood as you do. After seconds of failure, a cutely disgruntled noise leaves your throat, and you shuffle up to your toes. 

For a moment, he’s entranced by the display. A smile quirks the corner of his lips, running his gaze down the outline of your figure. Adorned in a tank top and ass-hugging jeans, there’s not a flaw in sight; other than his hands not on you, exploring every inch, crushing your body against his. Oh, that and you’re about to fall. 

“Oomph!” expels in a feminine grunt when you flail backwards and collide with the cushion of his embrace. His forearm hooks around your waist like an anchor and packs you against his chest before gently sliding you down his body to the safety of the ground. In doing so, momentarily, he’s caught up in how you feel against him, your back huddled into his front like puzzle pieces.

Everything about him is big, and it occurs to him that everything about you is small. His herculean stature dwarfs yours: six-foot of towering strength versus your soft, shorter frame. You barely require an ounce of strength to be lifted, and his blood rushes to his lower region with what he can do with that knowledge. 

Subconsciously, he tightens his hold until you tilt your head back to blink up at him with those enamoring big eyes. With that, he snaps out of his daze and relinquishes you with a quiet, “Sorry.” Before you can respond, he reaches beyond to grab the item of your desire and hands it over.

Your lashes flutter. “Thanks, killer,” you breathe cheekily as you accept it, the delayed rise and fall of your decolletage slowly regulating. You step out of his space. leaving him cold in your wake, and pad over to the sink with your back to him. “You did good out there, by the way.”

At the praise, his smile restores, and he inches toward you. “Just good?” he echoes after you’ve turned the faucet on and off and crosses his arms in faux offense.

Lips curled around a drink of water, you whirl around and finish a swig. Droplets glisten on your Cupid’s bow, and he swears you’re doing this on purpose when your pink tongue licks the liquid clean. “Do you really need little ‘ole me feeding your ego?” you tease and lean against the counter. 

“You are little,” he agrees with a perfunctory nod. 

You roll your eyes playfully and set the half-full cup down. “No. You - you’re just huge.” You gesture pointedly at his broad, muscle-laden build; dragging your stare down his squared shoulders to his defined abdomen to the tree trunks he has for thighs. An airy quality lingers in your voice, almost high pitched, as you add, “I don’t understand how your competitors don’t go running for the hills when they see you.” 

Taking another stride forth, head cocking, he observes you. There’s something in your expression he can’t quite explain but it pumps confidence into his blood. He glances at himself, white under armor t-shirt and gray sweats, but there’s no downplaying the physical strength he possesses. “You think I’m intimidating?”

You scoff and shake your head vehemently. “To other people, yeah. Me? Not so much.” A devious grin curves into those alluring lips of yours, and you straighten against the counter (not that it helped any with the height difference). “I could take you better than any of those losers you’ve gone against.” 

He laughs, husky and genuine. “Oh? Is that what you think?”

You stand your ground and encroach upon him, stabbing a finger into his chest. “It’s what I said, isn’t it?” 

Alarm bells ring between his ears, but he’s too lost in the beautiful arrogance on your face to listen. “Okay,” he says then backs up to the middle of the room where space is more ample and beckons you over with both hands. “C’mon then.” 

As he expected, you don’t back down. You smooth your hand through your hair and kick off the bottom cupboard. Rolling your shoulder, you enter his orbit; a friendly competitiveness gleams in your dilated pupils, darkening enough for him to notice beneath the kitchen’s warm-toned luminences. 

Your stance is nothing less than perfection (much like the rest of you). Orthodox, you project your right side but spread your weight evenly through both legs; a smidge wider than your shoulders, you bounce on the balls of your feet. Hands in a loose fist, your elbows are drawn together, and your chin tucks, looking up at him through your knitted eyebrows. 

There’s no question about your combative ability but his just more developed—given this is what he does for a living—so while you’re fast and your punches twist like it comes straight out of the textbook, he has the upper hand. 

In a half-hearted demeanor, he humors you. For a moment, the both of you encircle each other, him with a suppressed smile, you with concentrated brows. Like lightning, you advance on him and push through a superlative jab. But as quick as you are, he’s quicker. 

Deftly dodging your knuckles, he catches your dainty wrist. A squeal escapes your throat as he wrenches it behind your lower back. The swift action draws your body against his once again; the dull ridges of your back molds so close to his front that he knows you can feel the hammer of his heart beating an imprint between your shoulder blades. 

You wiggle briefly, and he has to bite down on a groan at the faint jean vibrations against his sweats, but you eventually relax with a long whine of, “No fair!” 

“You said—”

“Not what I meant,” you interject breathlessly, a salacious underlying in the words that he can no longer play oblivious to—dawning on him in a gut-clenching heat. “When I said I could take you, Rogers, I wasn’t talking about in a fight. Though, I won’t mind if we got a little violent. . .”

His breathing hitches. “I knew it.” A truth he long-buried—the strike of realization he avoided confronting in an attempt to hinder his own feelings—hurtles in his rib cage as he unwillingly accepts the reality you want him in the perverse idiosyncrasy he wants you. That beastly part of him roars in ravenous elation while his practiced erudition advises you in a low and pained plead, almost a groan, “You gotta stop.” 

With a breezy laugh, a twinkling song of laughter, you repeat a doubtful, “Stop?” and do the exact opposite. Your body careens into him, specifically your ass grinding encouragement against the hardening bulge in his pants. “Doesn’t feel like you want me to.” 

You’re right. “I don’t.” The reply rumbles through his chest and wrenches out strangled. The grip on your wrist increases before vanishing altogether. “But you’re Coach’s daughter, and out of all the things not to do, you’re number one on that list.” 

Freed, you twirl around and retain the lack of distance. You look up at him with unwavering seduction. “When you’re looking at me like that, does that really matter anymore?” 

Again, you’re right. But that’s not the issue—not the prevailing one, that is. “I’ve thought about you a million different ways but in reality, I’d break you,” he admits in a ragged exhale and licks his bottom lip. Another analytical once-over confirms his deduction; your danity frame clashing with his would be something beastly. “How would your daddy react knowing I ruined his pretty little girl?”

To his pleasure and displeasure, it doesn’t dissuade your attraction. No, it seems to have heightened it instead. “Is that a promise?” you ask, lust scintillating in your eyes like moonlight on the ocean, and he has to recoil away because you’ve got too much power over him with a look like that. “Steve—” 

Your hand grapples his before he can get far, an earnest strength he doesn’t have to bat an eyelash at. But it’s that—another reminder of your size differences and how easily he could bend and fold you to his liking—that has a carnal current torrenting from the depths of his soul, demanding an innate action. 

On impulse, he lurches forward with an inhuman growl and herds you backward until his hips are trapping yours against the counter edge. His hand wraps around the column of your neck, partially spanning your jaw to tilt upwards. 

“In every one of those fantasies, I use you like a rag doll—fast and rough, never gentle. And you wanna know why? ‘Cause you’re fuckin’ small and it’s the only possible way for me to fuck you,” he rasps, strained and serious, imploring you to understand the gravity of his words. “That’s in the case, that I can even fit inside you in the first place. So, you may say you can handle me but the truth is, you wouldn’t be able to take just one of my fingers.”

The speech is to deter you; invoke some common sense in that intelligent brain of yours because all of his is withering by the second. In lieu of his intention, it excites you further. Your pulse races against his palm but the flames in your gaze tell him it isn’t from fear. “You seem so sure about that but. . . but I don’t think so,” you purposely goad that volatile and competitive aspect of him. “Why don’t we try and see who’s right?”

His jaw ticks. “It’s not a challenge, doll,” he bites out. “It’s a warning. If I tried to get inside you, I’d split you in half in the process.” His eyes flicker down, and your nipples are pebbles against the thin, easily-rippable fabric—you’re testing him, and he’s failing. “Goddamn it,” he hisses underneath his breath. “That - that shouldn’t turn you on.” Bristling, he drops his hand and pedals backward—he’s on his last thread, and it’s his sole chance to make a clear-headed decision. 

“No,” you state simply, following after him. “I - I think you’re scared. I think you don’t want to admit that someone as small as me could take you so easily—and I mean easy—where everyone else fell to their knees.” A coy smirk upturns the corner of your lips. “Though I also wouldn’t be opposed to getting on mine right now.” 

That’s it. The last shred of ascetic lessons from the past six years bursts into ash. The fire ignites an unhinged frenzy, tunneling into his veins and coursing through his blood like the water of a previously dammed river now freed of placating obstruction. 

With unrestricted strength, Steve hauls you into his arms, cording underneath your ass and hoisting you high around his abdomen. In a gnashing kiss, he crushes his lips against yours. There’s no delay in your response, returning his passion in a rivaling degree. 

That formerly-leashed, hedonistic entity within him preens from its shackles and livens with unhinged reign. Electricity crackles underneath his skin and tingles violently in feral need. Every filthy imagining he’s conjured of you strobes through his mind, and he feels like a man who hasn’t eaten in years, and you’re the delectable T-bone steak he gets to devour. 

You moan into his mouth, a pretty vibration he swallows, as he laps up your taste. The musical sound, the way you explode on his tongue, it all goes to his head like a hit off a drug and slithers down his spine to the ache in his cock. 

His hips snap forward, and his grasp on you intensifies; clutching your ass, he’s rocking your center into his cotton-clad erection roughly. Shards of pleasure ricochet through him, but it’s not enough—he needs more, needs more of your titillating sounds, more of your body on his, of you coming undone because of him, you making him fall apart. 

As you writhe against him with breathy sounds, he sets you on the counter and goes for your pants. Logic evades him at this point—like the fact it’d be the same amount of time with less effort it’d be if he slipped off—and his hands tear the denim material down the middle. Using little effort, he continues to remove what separates you, doing away with your panties next. All the while, you’re gasping in surprise and possibly outrage but he can’t focus on that right now. 

“You don’t understand,” he speaks laboredly, shoving his sweats to his knees to reveal he’s gone commando. “How bad I’ve wanted you. How hard it was—how hard you make me—to keep from myself taking you in every disgusting way I dreamed about.” 

Slicked with precum, his veined manhood is just as thick as it is long; past lovers have gawked at the formidable steel, shying away immediately after, and he’s always understood that. But you, you look at him starry-eyed, licking your bottom lip like you want him exploding on your tongue. 

And as much as he’d marvel at the sight of your cheeks stuffed like chipmunk with his cock— has thought how hot it’d sound when you’re gagging relentlessly around him—he’s got his attention lasered on that tiny prize between your thighs. 

A teasing triangle of perfection, daring him to completely abuse and batter as he pleases. You’re glistening like diamonds in the sunlight, effectively blinding him in a bind of corporeal desire—there’s no thinking, only action; no right or wrong, just what he wants.

His hands pinch underneath your knees and slide you to the edge. In tandem, he slots himself flat against your weeping heat, squishing the length of his cock between the split of your slit, burrowing himself there as if it’s his new home. 

Mutual moans and shivers expel through you both. It’s better than he’s ever imagined; mentally-created experience has nothing on the raw reality. Soft like silk, the honeyed aperture of your sex is eclipsed by his tanned thickness, barely shrouding a third of him, his tip twitching at your navel, and it’s a snapshot to behold. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” he rasps, jaw locking before he reels you tighter and snaps his hips forward, rutting against your throbbing clit. It’s the match that starts the fire, a million sparks prickling all over that has him taking you like a madman. 

“S - Steve!” you cry, music to his ears, as he hooks his elbows under your knees, bending them over his shoulders, and works your divided folds up and down the length of his translucent-white dribbling cock. Your arms shoot around his neck desperately while you bury your face in his neck, mewling into his collarbone; the vibration unmistakably his name. 

“I am going to fuck you, doll,” he promises through gritted teeth, using his hands palming your ass to grind your little pussy into him harshly, at the same time his hips rock into the assault. “I am going to shove every inch of my cock inside you, make it fit if you can’t. But first—first, you’re going to cum on my cock then you’re going cum around it.” 

Your weight is nothing to his hulking strength, bouncing you in undulation like you’re his own personal fuck-toy (somewhere in that darker, aggressive facet of him chides that’s exactly what you are; a wanton toy to use to his desire). 

Every upward thrust is grating over your bundle of nerves, coaxing gush and gush of your essence. Mixed with his own liquid arousal, it further lubricates his slippery anatomy and empowers quicker ministrations—filling the room with your crescendos of whimpers and moans. 

“Y’like it when I make your pretty lil’ pussy grind against my cock? When the tip rubs over your soft clit?” he says, winded, in your ear as you shake like a leaf in the steel cage that is him. “Or d’you like knowing despite how bad I need to be balls-deep inside you I have to wait ‘cause your tiny pussy won’t be able to take it yet?” 

“Oh. God. Steve—” you moan, raking your nails into his flexing back muscles, and he revels in the faint sting. “I - I—it feels good. Fuck, it feels so good.”

Shocks needle down his spine and gnaw in his lower stomach while static nibbles at his limbs; a prelude to a knee-buckling reckoning. “Y’gonna cum for me, beautiful?” He can feel the tautness constricting in your body, the crook of your calves as your toes curl. “Want you to. Wanna know what’s gonna happen when you do?” He doesn’t wait for a response, especially when you’re borderline incoherent. “It’s gonna loosen you up for me. Get your pussy prepared to take all of my big, fat cock. And, you fuckin’ will. Y’hear me?” 

At that point, he’s unsure whether you nodded or not because your head does bob, but so does the rest of you. His neck muffles your cry as you buck wildly against him, and if that isn’t telling enough, he can feel your engorged nub pulsating with euphoria. 

And he can’t resist it. The threat of his violent upcoming orgasm; the fact that he knows your channel is clamping down hallowly; the earlier declaration of being able to handle him easily, it all overwhelms him. 

In a millisecond, before his mind comprehends what his instincts are doing, his hands slip from underneath your bottom to either side of your slit, and his thumbs spread your opening. He heaves you up, and when gravity brings you down, his well-endowed cock drives into your spasming insides. 

With an audible wet slush and slap of skin, he powers through your channel harshly until he’s seated to the hilt. In the throes of your orgasm—before he could stretch you first like he intended—inches that outwardly reached your belly button, width that dwarfed your mound  invades your walls in one blunt movement. 

The orgasm is still flooding you but it’s combined with the convulsions of vanquished hollowness and encompassing fullness. To be perfectly fucking honest, it’s heaven: snug, fervid heaven. And he wastes no time losing himself in you, fucking you through your stimulation while you’re rendered to a babbling mess.

“Oh - oh, my—Steve!” you squeal as your rubber-band-like resistance desperately tries to accommodate the intrusion of his size. “Big—you’re big—I didn’t realize you were so b - big—” 

“But you’re going to take it, aren’t you? Said you could, swore you’d handle me like no other before, right?” he croons and continues to decimate your swollen valley. “I told you you’d cum on my cock and around it, and that’s what you’re gonna do.” The order has your strangling heat fluttering in delight. “Unless you aren’t as big and bad as you claimed to be.” 

You gasp and cling tighter. “I can - I can,” you whimper, and it’s so cute—he can’t wait to fuck you until you pass out. “Just a minute. I can’t cum yet—n - not yet.” 

He laughs huskily because he knows he’s gonna to make you do exactly that. “Yeah, we’ll see about that, doll,” he practically purrs and cinches you closer so with each pass of his hips, your sensitive clit is chafing against his pubic bone; it has the intended effect of forcing your swollen walls to quiver around him.

“Shit,” you choke. “I can’t - I can’t—”

Motivated by your disbelieving insistence, he reaffirms his grip and pistons through your folds quicker. He ebbs deeper and deeper with the combination of his hips ramming in and his hands controlling your body so your channel swallows him all the way. 

Rising sensations pulse within him at an alarming rate, numbness climbing up his toes to cover him completely, encasing his nerves with an escalating bliss. In a minute, he’s going to blow and empty the contents of his balls into your never ending, clamping depths—and he can’t wait to see your reaction when he does, what it’ll look like to have his thick white dribbling out of you. 

That thought spurs him on, and he abruptly props you on the kitchen counter. There’s no break for your used pussy as he slithers a free hand to fist your throat, laying you flat against the cold granite.

“You are gonna cum for me,” he growls, voice unrecognizable with animalistic carnality. The sheening and flushed exertion on your face, the moans vibrating up your esophagus and the wriggle of your body is mesmerizing and provoking. “And you’re going to make me cum while you do it. Your tiny pussy is gonna milk my big cock until I’m flooding you full of me.”

He ruffles your shirt up and out of the way, giving him a glimpse of the single hottest thing he’s ever laid his eyes on. As his hips jut back and forth, the indent of his bulbous tip prods visibly from your stomach; he can see himself bulging low in your belly. 

He releases the unholiest of groans as lightning zaps through him, tactfully shocking his pressure points while his blood pumps to his dick, and he swells bigger inside you. The temperature is boiling to the top, and when your warbling voice breaks into his haze, “Steve—Steve—Steve—!” his eyes snap open. 

His gaze drags further down, he’s greeted with the eyeful of your exploited mound: puffy and swollen from his unyielding, punishing onslaught, your clit peaking through faintly as if beckoning for his touch. Of course, he obliges you—he has zero idea how he managed to deny himself of you in the past. 

The second he thumbs at the little nubbin, you’re sobbing his name and squelching around his cock. In a domino effect, the lava blasts from the bottom of his gut to your enveloping convulsions; sheathed to the hilt, a visual ingrained in his memory of his cockhead pushing up inside your stomach, he pours all the mania he’s kept locked away into you. 

Riding out the wave, he watches how you cream around him when he retreats from you. A ring of clear white contrasts against your bruised sex and his tanned length, the mix of your essences oozing down his balls and onto the floor. 

“Fuck,” he says hoarsely. “That’s hot.” 

There’s a periodic twitch of you, and he glances up to see you staring at him, glossy-eyed but undoubtedly satisfied. “You. . . that was. . . God,” is all you manage, and pride blooms in his chest—at the fact that you kept up, and at the fact he did you good. “You’re amazing.” 

“You did good, doll,” he speaks roughly, the hand around your throat tracing your pulse. “I couldn’t have thought of a better way for this to have gone. . .” Despite his recent orgasm, there’s a hunger clawing back to the surface as he observes the way you’re splayed out like an offering, fucked to the point of limpness. “Or, to be going. . .” 

“S - Steve,” you whimper but it isn’t a protest, far from it, he can tell. 

So he continues to trail his hand to your clit, encircling it while you give a half-hearted bleat. He rakes his teeth over his bottom lip and maneuvers his hips until his growing semi is teasing your cum-dripping entrance. “Y’said you could handle me, doll,” he murmurs and promptly glides right back into you, and a wanton cry tears from your lips. “Let’s see how true that is.” 

[masterlist / feedback]

[marshmallow-phd]

Watchful Eyes

Part of the EXO Mafia Universe

Genre: Mafia!AU

Pairing: Jongdae x Reader

A/N: I’m so sorry this took so long, Trish, I meant for this to be fluffy, but the story kind of took a turn of its own. I hope you still like it!! (warning: its... long)

**

If someone were to ask you what you thought the quiet man who came into your work nearly every day to order the same coffee, you would have answered something along the lines of corporate lawyer or director or anything else that came with a large paycheck. His suits were always perfectly tailored to fit his short but strong frame. He never wore the same expensive watch twice. And no, it wasn’t weird that you noticed that. You were always an overly observant person, it wasn’t your fault that your brain picked up on the most minute details. It did, however, take you a bit to understand the need to keep those details to yourself. 

You were sure if Rich Man (you knew his name was Kim Jongdae from his debit card that he used to pay each time, but it made you feel less like a creepy stalker if you used a nickname in your head) was aware of how much you’d observed about him, he would never return. And that was the last thing you wanted. You liked seeing him every day, around the same time (approximately eight-thirty in the morning, right after the morning rush). He had become a part of your own routine, your own comfort zone. However, you were never brave enough to make any sort of real conversation with him, no matter how large your crush on him grew. 

“If you keep sighing after him like that I’m going to leave your number on a napkin for him,” your co-worker threatened. 

You nearly slipped as you were wiping down a table. You hadn’t realized the sound you thought was in your head had been verbalized as you watched him walk down the sidewalk through the big window in the front of the cafe. 

“Don’t you dare,” you grumbled through clenched teeth as you straightened up. 

Ignoring your co-worker’s cheeky snickers, you headed back to the counter to start cleaning the espresso machine. A shudder ran down your spine at the very thought of your co-worker actually embarrassing you like that. Because while Mr. Kim was Rich Man, you were very much Poor Woman. But this wasn’t a drama. This was real life and rarely did the successful businessman fall for the lowly coffee girl for no reason whatsoever. He’d probably laugh at any attempt you made to get his attention and then leave to never come back. So you stayed in the background. All you would do was continue to observe Rich Man from afar as life continued on its own mundane way. 

**

Your eyes flickered over to the clock for the tenth time within the last minute as if the time would drastically change. 

Rich Man hadn’t been by your shop for the past three days. Even though it was perfectly normal for regulars to move on and find new places, this didn’t feel right to you. This didn’t feel like the normal change-up. You couldn’t figure out what it was, but something felt wrong. The clock was ticking closer to his usual walk-in time and you were nervous that this might turn into day four.

As your eyes looked towards the clock for the eleventh time, the bell above the front entrance chimed. You turned to greet the new customer and stopped. 

It was him. 

But he was different. 

The jacket of his suit was gone, leaving only the white button down, tie, and slacks. His black hair wasn’t quite gelled into its usual fashion, a few pieces left askew. What really caught your eye, however, was the still-healing bruise next to his right eye. 

Slowly, he approached the counter, wallet already in his hands. He opened his mouth to give you his order, but before you could stop yourself-

“Are you alright?” Immediately, you slapped a hand over your mouth. Stupid, stupid. “I’m sorry. That’s none of my business.” Instead of scolding you, though, he smiled. 

“I’m alright. Thank you for asking.” He handed over his card and you rang up his order without any prompting. 

As you handed back the card, you realized what you’d done. “I’m sorry. Again. I should have asked-”

“What you should do is stop apologizing,” he smirked. It was evident that he was in some sort of pain, given the slight grimace behind each movement he made, but he was masking it well. “I wanted my usual anyway.” He looked around the shop. “Do you mind bringing me the order when it's done?”

You shook your head. “Of course not. Please, take a seat. I’ll have it right out for you.”

He smiled at you. Genuinely smiled. “Thank you.” With a slight limp, he made his way over to a table near the front entrance. 

I wonder what happened to him... Your mind was racing with all the possibilities. And you were starting to think that maybe, just maybe your earlier assumptions that he worked high up in a legitimate business were incorrect. 

Pushing the negative thoughts away, you got started on his simple coffee order. You tended to pride yourself on your observation of character and Rich Man - no, Jongdae, you’d already passed social graces and asked him a personal question, you might as well revert to his real name - always seemed like a good person. He was kind both to you, the other workers here and any other patrons he passed along the way. Could a man like that really be involved in anything malicious?

Everyone knew about the mafia, EXO, though the leaders who ran it were shrouded in mystery. No one knew their names, only that they existed and had considerable control both in the dark underworld and the legitimate businesses of the city. Could Jongdae be a part of that organization? You didn’t want to believe it, but the money combined with the recent injuries….

No. There was no way. You weren’t going to let your imagination run wild again. There were a hundred explanations for his absence and bruise. 

Warm Americano in hand, you pushed away the negativity and went over to him, placing the cup in front of him. You were just about to walk away when he stopped you. 

“Have you missed me?”

You whirled around. “W-what?”

Smirking to himself, he took off his golden watch of the day, placing it down on the table and rubbing his wrist as if the accessory had been bothering him. Perhaps it was too heavy? Or too tight? “I stopped coming for a few days, but you still remembered how I like my coffee.” He looked up at you with soft eyes that didn’t match the cocky twist of his mouth. “Did you miss me?”

“I noticed you hadn’t come around,” you admitted, although why you admitted it was lost on you. “I just figured you found somewhere else with better coffee.”

He shook his head. “No, I very much like the coffee here.”

Heat exploded in your cheeks. Please, don’t be visibly blushing, you thought. Of course he means the coffee and not the service. “Well, I’m glad to hear that,” you replied softly. “I should get back to the counter.”

With a nod of his head, you were dismissed. 

He only hung around for maybe ten minutes more before going on with his day. When you went over to take care of the ceramic cup he’d left behind, however, you found that he’d left something else as well. 

His watch. 

Swiping it up, you ran outside, searching frantically for him, but it was too late, He’d already disappeared. You pocketed the watch, blowing air out your lips. Surely, he’d come back for it, right? Until then you’d hold on to it, for safekeeping.

**

The day was drawing to a close and Jongdae still hadn’t returned for his watch. Your co-worker made a joke about pawning it for cash, but one glare from you shut them up. After finishing the cleaning list and putting up all the chairs, you slipped on your jacket and headed out. 

The sun was starting to disappear behind the buildings as you made your way to the subway. The wind was picking up so you pulled your jacket in closer to try and keep yourself warm. At the intersection right before your subway entrance, you were stopped by the orange hand saying not to cross. Even though no cars were zooming by, you decided it was better safe than sorry to obey the hand and stand there on the corner for the okay to cross. As you waited, you pulled the watch from your pocket to inspect the details. 

It wasn’t a Rolex like you would have expected. The plate on the back said it was from Bvlgari. You didn’t know much about the brand, but you did know that it was a brand only for the rich. This particular product was simple, but that meant by no means was it cheap. It was solid gold, heavy, with black lines on the face, only the twelve and six printed out in actual numbers. A second, smaller version was seated in the bottom left to represent the second hand. It was pretty, elegant and luxurious. Just like its owner. 

Flipping it over, you found that under the brand name, something else was etched into the surface. 

Chen. 

What did that mean?

“That’s a handsome watch you’ve got there.”

You jumped, not having realized that you were no longer alone. The walking man had come and gone. Now the hand was flashing, telling you it was too late to try and cross, too late to try and put distance between you and the creepy looking man leering over you. It wasn’t his face, necessarily that was creepy - in fact, it was quite average looking. It was the expression on his face that was setting off your alarm bells. 

Replacing the watch in your packet, you stayed quiet, as if he hadn’t spoken at all. 

“Where did you get it?” he asked, undeterred. 

“It’s a friend’s,” you replied. Damn it, why did you have to acknowledge him?

“A friend, you say? What’s his name?”

You cleared your throat to give off a more confident sound than how you really felt. “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe it’s any of your business.”

The man scoffed. “Now that’s not very nice.”

Rolling your eyes, you went to look at him to tell him off once and for all, but you were greeted with the barrel of a gun. You suddenly ran cold. Were you about to die because you couldn’t keep the stupid watch in your pocket?

“You can’t have it!” It was a bluff, sure, but you were hoping he would change his mind and walk away. If it really came down to it, you would give it to him. Jongdae had plenty, anyway. Right?

“Oh, I don’t want the watch,” the man snickered. Out of his own pocket, he grabbed a white cloth and held it up menacingly. “It’s you I want. The watch just pointed me in the right direction.”

“Wha- mph!” 

Before you could run, the man snaked an arm around you, covering your nose and mouth with the cloth. The chemical smell you breathed in told you exactly what was happening. You lasted only a minute or so before you blacked out. 

**

You woke up in the back of an SUV, hands tied behind your back and sandwiched between the man who’d kidnapped you and another thug with bulging muscles and a large rifle in his hand. 

“About time you wake up,” the first man laughed. 

You wanted oh so badly to spit some sort of comeback at him, but you’d seen enough movies to know that would end only with you getting a bloody lip - or worse. 

“That’s the signal,” the other man said. He grabbed your upper arm and kicked open the door on his side of the SUV before dragging you out of it. What you saw from there made your jaw drop. 

It was exactly like the movies. An old abandoned warehouse, two groups of men facing each other, twenty feet or so between them. You were apparently on the side of the “obvious bad guys” - they were the ones with large guns and… well you, the clueless victim. 

On the other side of the warehouse was what you could only conclude was the mafia known as EXO. The nine men dressed much more elegantly than your captors, their own pistols holstered on their hips. Most of them were frowning, but one… one in particular actually seemed worried. And it was the one person you’d hoped wouldn’t be there.

“What are you doing with her?” Jongdae demanded. His fist was clenched at his side, mere centimeters away from his gun. 

The man in the middle with the slicked back hair and dark blue suit - the one who looked like the obvious leader - laughed. “I thought I’d bring her along to help with negotiations, Chen.”

Chen? Your gaze landed steadily on Jongdae. Was that his real name? The one etched on the back of his watch? Was Jongdae just a cover for his true self? You felt like an idiot. There was no reason for you to, as you couldn’t say you ever really knew him beyond the customer/cafe girl relationship. But your observation skills had failed you and that within itself was humiliating enough. 

“I don’t see how she matters, Thorn,” said one of the tall members of Jongdae’s group. His face was the most neutral of the lot, his build long and lean. He almost seemed bored, even though your life was very much in danger. 

“What?” the leader named Thorn snorted. “You mean you don’t know about Chen’s little girlfriend? I thought you didn’t have secrets between the lot of you?”

You waited for Jongdae - er Chen (your head was beginning to hurt with all these different names) - to correct him, but to your surprise, he stayed silent. 

One of the other members looked to Chen. “What’s going on?”

Chen shook his head, but not at his member. “I don’t know why you thought to involve her.”

“Weren’t you the one trying to protect her in the first place?” Thorn asked. “Isn’t that why after our last run-in you stayed away from her? But you couldn't do that for long, could you?”

“Just tell us what the hell you want!” Chen shouted.

Thorn looked like he was getting exactly what he wanted. “Hand over my money and the deeds to the river front property on the south end and I’ll let her go.”

“That’s all we get?” sneered the tanned member of Chen’s group. 

“I think that’s a fair deal,” Thorn shrugged. One of the men behind you cocked their gun. One quick glance told you that it wasn’t just a threat. The barrel was pointed at the back of your head. They meant it: accept the deal or you were dead. 

Without verbally agreeing, Chen turned around and headed for his car. The horrifying thought that he was going to let them kill you ran through your mind. But instead of driving off, he reached into the back seat and pulled out two large black duffel bags.

“You bring her to the middle at the same time,” he demanded. 

Thorn gestured at his men with two fingers to bring you. You were dragged unceremoniously to the center as Chen also stepped forward. He threw down the bags. One of the men bent over and unzipped the contents. Bundles and bundles of cash filled the bags, almost bulging from the amount shoved inside. He turned to Thorn and nodded once. Then the other man cut the ropes that bound your wrists, freeing you. He shoved you into Chen, who caught you and held on.

“Are you okay?” he asked worriedly. 

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I’m fine.” Confused, disoriented, and scared, but fine nonetheless. 

“Come on.” He escorted you over to the car and all but shoved you into the passenger's seat. Wordlessly, the others also jumped into their cars and drove off out of the warehouse. 

Well. That was simple. 

But the ride didn’t last long. The groups of cars stopped only a block away. 

“What’s going on?” you asked frantically as you searched around. Were you being followed? Had something gone wrong?

“Shush.” He barely glanced at you as he stared out the windshield. 

Several of the men got out of their cars and placed gas masks over their faces. They walked back towards the warehouse. You held your breath, waiting to see what would happen next. It may have seemed like forever, but according to the clock on the dash, only ten minutes had gone by before the group returned, duffel bags in hand. 

“How did they-” You turned to Chen for an answer to your unfinished question. 

“Gas canisters under the money,” he explained, still not looking at you. “Poisonous. They won’t harm you ever again.” And with that, he threw the car into drive and took off. 

He sped through the city. He said no words to you, leaving you in the dark about what you’d been forced to endure. 

Only when your apartment building came into view did he come to a stop. You stared down the block at your front door. Should you get out now? What would happen to you? Were the ones who’d kidnapped you dead? Would you be next now that you knew the secret identities of the mafia?

“Don’t tell anybody about tonight,” he told you in a warning voice. 

“I won’t,” you promised. Who would believe you anyway? 

Taking that as your signal to leave, you unbuckled your seatbelt and opened the car door. He didn’t stop you as your feet touched the concrete. This felt like goodbye forever. You had a feeling that after this moment, you would never see him again. And it was hurting your heart. Despite the fact that you’d be safer without him, it still hurt. 

“Wait!”

You made it only halfway down the sidewalk when Chen came running after you. A frown pulled at your lips. What could he want now?

But you never got the chance to ask that question out loud when he suddenly grabbed your face and pushed you up against the building wall. His lips were on yours before you could comprehend what was happening. Shock kept you frozen, but only for a few seconds. 

Soon, you were returning the kiss, hands reaching up and digging in his hair and gripping on tight. Red brick poked and prodded your shoulder blades, but you hardly noticed. Your mind was occupied with Jongdae, the feeling of his hands on you, the fire his touch created. 

But Chen ended it almost as quickly as he’d started. He reached into your pocket and pulled out the watch that was still there. Taking ahold of your hand, he slipped it onto your wrist. “I’m sorry.” Then he spun on his heels and went back to his car.

You blinked after the vehicle, unsure of how to feel. The world was tilted, nothing was lining up. 

Letting out a long sigh, you slid down to the ground. Everything felt numb. Not even the coldness of the concrete seemed to bother you. Perhaps you were in shock. Or maybe this was all a weird fever dream, your brain’s explanation for your customer’s long absence. 

Yes… maybe it was all just a dream. 

**

It wasn’t. 

The evidence that it was real was hanging on your wrist when you woke up the next morning. For several minutes, you sat in bed, staring at the watch. None of the previous night’s event made any sense. You didn’t know what to do except to go on until the next time you saw the mafia man. 

But he didn’t show up to the cafe that day. Okay. that was to be expected. 

Then he didn’t show up for a week. Two weeks.

Well, into the third week, you were giving up on ever seeing him again. The chime of the doorbell made you jump, but the customer was never him. Perhaps when he said he was sorry, he really meant goodbye. Maybe your gut was right and you were never going to see him again. 

Every day, you wore the watch, just in case. In case he showed back up. In case you were given the chance to see him again. 

During the slower moments, you would take off the watch and read the strange name over and over. Chen. Chen. Chen. Who was he? And was he so different from the kind soul you’d observed over the months that he’d come to the cafe? You didn’t want to think so. You were sure that, at least deep down, they could be one in the same. 

Closing time had come and you were just about finished with all your chores. The only thing that remained was to take out the trash. The bags were heavy, so you struggled to drag them into the back alley where the dumpsters were located. Grabbing one bag, you lifted it up and with a huff, pushed it into the dumpster. But when you turned to the other bag, someone else had already taken it. 

You watched with a slacked jaw as Chen threw the garbage bag away with ease. 

“Hi,” he greeted. He shoved his hands in his pockets, smiling shyly, crookedly at you. It was small and unsure, perhaps waiting for you to start shouting or become explosive in some way. 

Instead, you stayed quiet. Chen shifted from foot to foot anxiously. The bruise had long ago healed, but he looked more unkempt than ever. His dress shirt was wrinkled and disheveled. No tie hung from his neck and his slacks looked about a day old. Your fingers ached to reach out and fix his hair, but you restrained. 

“How are you?” he asked awkwardly in an attempt to break the tension. 

“Fine.”

He nodded. “Good, good.”

Silence fell again. 

You shook your head. “Who are you? Really?”

“You know who I am,” he said. 

You scoffed. “No, I don’t. Americano with cream. Kim Jongdae. Chen. Mafia member. To me, it seems like you’re many different people.”

A sad sigh left his lips. He held out his hand to you. “Hi. My name is Kim Jongdae. I’m a member of the EXO mafia, codename Chen.”

Part of you wanted to be petty and not shake his hand. But you couldn’t entirely blame him for the secrecy and the disappearing act. You couldn’t even really blame him for your kidnapping. All he did was accidentally leave his watch behind. So, you grasped his hand and shook it. “It’s nice to meet you, Jongdae.”

Jongdae dropped your hand, his smile growing a fraction at your openness to him. “I think I should explain…,” he scratched the back of his head nervously. “Well, everything, I guess.”

You snorted. “Yeah, I’ll say.”

To your surprise, he laughed. Soon, however, it faded out. “I neve meant for you to get involved. Suho told me months ago to stop coming to see you here at the cafe, but I couldn’t help myself. Something about you just kept bringing me back.” 

Your cheeks burned at his somewhat confession, but you pressed your lips closed. Now was not the time to interrupt. Then you might not get all the answers. 

“I didn’t know Thorn’s men were following me until about a month ago. They cornered me. I was able to kill one of them before the others ran away. Right before the man died, he made a comment about how I’d better keep an eye on my coffee girl, in case something should happen.” Jongdae winced at that, running a hand through his hair, making it stick up even more. “I couldn’t see you right away. I was too beat up for that. I was relieved when I saw that you were fine. But… I was still worried. I left my watch behind that day on purpose, hoping you’d keep a hold of it.”

Now you had to intercede. “Why? What was the point of that?”

He looked down guiltily. “I had Baekhyun put a tracking device in the wrist band of it. I wanted to make sure you were safe. In the end, I just made things worse. The watch was the proof they were waiting for, to see if you were important enough to use against me.”

You wanted to be angry. You wanted to be annoyed, stomp away while screaming for him to never show his face in front of you again. If he’d come a few weeks ago, you might have. But those feelings had depleted over time. Logic had taken over. Certain things were just out of his control. And… well, you were a little happy that he hadn’t listened to this Suho person and kept coming to the cafe. Flattered, really, if a bit shy about it. 

You didn’t even think about it. Your foot took that first step and the next thing you knew, your arms were wrapping around his torso and you were resting your cheek against his chest.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “For not letting them kill me.”

He was quick to return the embrace, holding you tight against him. “I never would have let that happen to you. One way or another, I would have gotten you out of there.”

Sighing, you leaned back to look at Jongdae. Your mind was still a bit scrambled at all of this. Your previous observations weren’t making any sense to the confession being laid out in front of you. Especially the one where you thought he hardly noticed you. “I must be out of my mind.”

He frowned at you. “Why do you say that?”

Shaking your head, you pressed your lips to his, surprising him like he did to you that night outside your apartment. But unlike you, he didn’t hesitate in the slightest. With one hand cupping your jaw and the other firmly planted on the small of your back, he pressed you even closer to him so no space remained between your bodies. He didn’t pull away until both of you needed to replenish the air in your lungs. Looking into his eyes, you couldn't help but be nervous. Because you knew the danger this man brought. You’d already lived it. But you were in too deep now. And you weren’t sure you wanted to pull yourself out of it, anyway. 

**

You bounced from foot to foot, eager for the end of your shift to come. For months, Jongdae had been begging you to quit, to let him take care of you. But you liked having the schedule, having something to do all day while he was working with the others. You also preferred not to have your rent and other necessities paid for by, well, by money that wasn’t completely clean. 

There were times where you wished Jongdae wasn’t living the life he was, but you couldn't change him. You wouldn’t even try. You’d accepted who he was since you first learned about his truth. That didn’t mean you had to be consumed by his world as well. You could still keep your life and have him, too. At least for now. 

“Oh, just go already,” your co-worker grumbled as they rolled their eyes. 

Not even arguing, you ripped off the apron and ran to the office to clock out. Your heart was racing at the simple thought of seeing Jongdae. It was date night for the two of you and you were especially excited since it’d been nearly a week since you last saw him. 

You’d barely made it out the door before a pair of arms snatched you from behind. A scream erupted from your throat until you heard the tell-tale laughter in your ear. 

“Jongdae!” You turned around in his arms and slapped his shoulder, but he kept laughing, enjoying your startled state.

He kissed your lips, still smiling. “I missed you.”

You tried not to smile. You really did. But you lost fairly quickly. “I missed you, too.” 

Holding up your hand, he slid his fingers in between yours. It felt right, his hand in yours. Like you’d been cold all this time and he was the only thing that could keep you from dying of hyperthermia. His warmth was infectious and addicting. Even when the two of you argued and fought over his lifestyle choices, you always found yourself back in his presence. You just couldn’t let him go. 

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he said. 

You scrunched your face. “Another one?”

“This one isn’t jewelry,” he promised. Releasing your waist, he pulled you towards his car and helped you into the passenger’s seat. As soon as he was settled behind the wheel, he took ahold of your hand again, kissing your knuckles softly. Then he looked at you cheekily. “Ready?”

“With you?” You smiled broadly. “Always.”

Your answer made him grin so widely that he looked like a kid. It made your heart skip a beat, the innocence, the love behind it. And it was all for you. Always for you. 

It was funny to you, where you were now versus only a few months ago. You went from being the background girl who looked a little too closely to person by Jongdae’s side, the man who felt out of reach. He wasn’t perfect, he wasn’t a knight in shining armor. But he was yours. And that was enough. 

[alias-b]

sins of my youth. 004

Billy Hargrove x OC! Evie Fenny~ Also posted to my AO3

Summary: It was common knowledge that Billy Hargrove hated Hawkins. Hated Cherry Lane. Even loathed the strange girl next door. Evie Fenny wasn’t too fond of the chaotic Cali transfer either. An awful high school tradition sparks a chain of events that changes everything, ultimately bringing two frayed souls together.

A/N: Hello all! Pushing out a baby chapter early so I can focus on my other fic! Thank you so much for the support on this fic. Billy goes to dinner and Tries It. That's the chapter. :D  Tag list open!!!

Chapter 4: No Day But Today

   “Claudia, do you have the keys?” Mona crossed the salon floor.

   “I do, we’re fine here, go on. Dusty is spending the night at the Wheeler’s place. Having some castle and dragons party.” She'd gushed.

   “Feel free to close up early if we’re dead the last hour. Thanks, sugar.” Mona patted her back as she followed Evie out the door.

   “Can I drive?”

   “I was hoping you’d ask.” Mona smiled.

   Evie was saving for a car. And college. And her future. 

   And it was a lot.

   Truthfully, she didn’t care for school. It was in the way. Wished her lyrics could carry her straight to the red carpet before all those flashing paparazzi.

   Wanting to unwind, Evie hid in her room when she got home. Shut the curtains and prodded at herself before the vanity. Sorted dangly earrings in a mesh metal display. Huffing to lean over when Bourbon swept into her legs. His little body shivered and she plucked him up.

   “Okay, BB, you’re my best guy. You can’t let me down.” She scratched under his chin, gave him a little boop on the nose. “You take one look at that walking Def Leppard poster and you hiss and run. Got it?”

   A purr.

   “Good boy. You’re my only hope here. We can’t lose. Not to Billy Hargrove.” Arms let him down. She'd feel this sentiment often about Billy. A sigh. Evie applied a fresh lip color and paused. “Ugh.” She pushed up and didn’t change. Did her school work to get it out of the way and wandered out, turning the TV on to some game show. The savory smell of dinner wafted. “Need help here, Mom?” One tug and the ceiling fan spun, cycling cooler air.

   “No, I have it. You can set the table for me.” Mona drained some noodles.

   “Got it.” Plates and cutlery clicked around. Evie slid everything into place, perked up when the doorbell rang. Mona turned and smiled as her daughter adjusted fabric and fixed curls into place all the way to the door.

   Evie half expected Billy to not even show. But, there he was. Sly smile and all. Billow of date night cologne. A vision in moonlight.

   “Hey.” Evie said slowly. The surprise evident.

   “Hey." He mirrored it.

   "You're here." An exhale out. He blinked, found himself again.

   "I was gonna steal flowers from the old lady’s garden across the way, but there’s a huge opossum in her trash guarding it.” He tilted his head, earring catching the porch light and she cracked a grin.

   "Big Ben? Yeah, he's the neighborhood menace. Chief Hopper's nemesis because they get so many calls about it. You'd be a hero if you took him on." Evie persuaded lighter. His face fell.

   "I'm not trying to die in Hawkins, Indiana. That thing was bigger than anyone on our football team."

   “Color me impressed. King Billy didn’t want to do battle for the first time?” She actually teased him. Her nose crinkled when she smiled. Cute. “Shock and awe.”

   Billy felt this tug pulse up his ribcage. Pulled a genuine chuckle from his lips. He had to look away to give it. Glowy in starlight.

   “Sometimes I surprise people. I know my weight class and the pests here look like they were grown and mutated in some lab.” He shrugged into the door frame with one fist lifted, clicking his lighter shut. Hooded eyes all over. Evie went still as he leaned forward to her face with his tone lowering. “Am I allowed inside? Pretty please?”

   “With cherries on top?" Bright, wet lips parted. His lashes fluttered, a baritone sinking. Bringing her with him.

   "With anything your heart desires on top." Smooth.

   "Huh. I guess. For now.” Evie stepped out of the way. “We go to school with plenty of those lab grown pests by the way.”

   “No kidding.” Billy shrugged his jacket off and she awkwardly reached to take it. Hung it up behind her.

   Evie turned to see him staring again and swallowed a hard lump down. Thought maybe he saw all the begonias blooming behind her eyes and up her throat.

   “Billy.” Mona came out of the kitchen, arms out. “So glad you’re here.”

   “You saved me from a sad date with a TV dinner.” Billy winked, charming Ms. Fenny to bits. She giggled and shook her hair out.

   “Dinner’s got about ten minutes. Why don’t you show him around, baby?” Mona hurried back off, leaving them alone again.

   “Tour? Great idea." He peered behind Evie. A mission at hand. "Where’s the cat?”

   “Hiding from you, clearly.” Evie beamed, gesturing. “Welcome to the living room. Mom's showroom is a better word.”

   “Your mom like tchotchkes or what?” He came to the full mantle. Scanning.

   “How’d you guess?” Evie reluctantly trailed to his side.

   It was strange to let this boy wander around and see little bits of her life. Guess things about her as he went along, trailing deft fingers about the fireplace. She wondered what was blooming within the pit of his stomach, if anything.

   Mona Fenny's house overwhelmed.

   Photographs, plants, and crafts. Little porcelain figurines. Too many handmade candles. Crochet projects. A full dollhouse on a table in the corner.

   “My grandma passed a lot of craft skills down. She owned this amazingly strange trinket and voodoo shop in New Orleans that my aunts run now after Nana died."

   "Your mom didn't stay for a piece of that?" Billy let his eyes trail over every little thing.

   "Ah, I don't know. She was the baby and married pretty young. Seemed like she wanted something new," Evie peered behind her and whispered. "Never really got along with Nana like her older sisters did."

   Billy hummed a little. Decided not to pry with Mona in the next room. Evie brought him to the corner and flicked a lamp on.

   "Mom’s dollhouse is her pride and joy. Lights up and everything.”

   “Tell me why your mother has a framed photograph of Dolly Parton next to a picture of you two on the fireplace. And the same photo shrunk down in the dollhouse?”

   “Science may tell us the truth one day when the world is ready. And I fear for that day.” She replied in all seriousness and Billy snorted. Laughing.

   A truly enchanting sound Evie decided she liked.

   “And I have to say,” he plucked a photo off a bookshelf with a broad grin, “this one is my favorite.”

   One of Evie on Halloween. Had to be about six. Dressed in the campiest pink daisy costume with a huge toothy smile.

   “Gah,” she cringed and swiped it from his hand, “this house is a museum of embarrassment.”

   “You’re into the museum shit, guess this is like our first-” Billy stopped himself from producing the damning word when Evie turned. Blushing. Oof. He scratched the back of his neck. “So, uh, you got a bedroom in here or do you sleep in the dollhouse?”

   “You won’t find the cat that easily.” She caught him peering around again and led him past the kitchen. “C’mon, not much to the rest of the house. Garage. Spare room.” That used to be her dad’s office space. “Mom’s room. Attic up there and on this end. My cat's room that he lets me stay in too.”

   The door was open so Billy prodded it to peek inside. Evie exhaled and flicked the light on.

   It didn’t feel like a teenage girl’s bedroom. Not covered in decorations and pictures like the rest of the house. No posters cut from magazines covered in pink lipstick kisses.

   A vanity full of disorganized makeup. Desk. Overfilled bookcase of novels and tapes. Crafts and trinkets she collected in labeled tin boxes. Dresser covered in jewelry. Music player. Bed. Closet. Couple of pictures taped by the vanity and headboard. Mostly Evie and Heather laughing and bright. Her beloved acoustic guitar propped in the corner. 

   It felt like it was decorated by one trying to take up as little space as possible. Everything was compacted. Billy eyed the wall by her bed. Realized most of the papers were notes with random lyrics and words patched together.

   “Yeah, I tend to jot every little thought down even when I’m half asleep and hope it makes a song eventually.” She peered aside. It felt too intimate, letting Billy shift about the space.

   "Hey, everybody has a method." Two fingers traced over a note taped up to straighten it. She caught the ring gleaming on his middle finger. “My-”

   “Ah, don’t read them aloud, I may combust.” 

   “Oh?” Billy slunk toward her, licked his lips. A hungry way about it. Mouth watering fangs full of sweet venom. Wonder how they'd feel sinking into her throat. “Because I make you nervous, Angel?”

   “No, it’s just...just…weird.” Evie pressed up into her desk. Billy closed the distance. Got within inches of her. “It’s weird.”

   Repetition didn’t ease the sear of those ocean eyes drowning her too sweetly. She felt her chest fill and flutter all the way down. Flowers unfurled to be plucked and caressed. Billy pushed into the space until she was seated there on the desk. Scrambling further. Unable to climb the wall.

   “You do seem nervous though, Evie.” His tone hushed. Fingers brushed her thighs and palms came to rest there. The bunched fabric of her dress barely separating them. She inhaled his cologne. Smelled peppermint from his breath. Chest heaving.

   Billy knew this wasn’t part of the quest. If that’s what this was, maybe that was a nicer way to put it. Maybe rationalizing it a thousand times would help him get some sleep at night. Just show her a good night, cash in, and go home.

   It still sounded shitty. Wasn't doing Evie any favors. This girl painted too many iridescent colors. They could bleed and Billy wouldn't step away if it pooled too close.

   He liked to watch the blush spread across her freckled cheeks. Rose petals falling into a cool pond. Liked the way her nose scrunched when she smiled and when she was cross with him. 

   Billy didn't want her because she was a conquest. A challenge. Sure, she challenged him, that was part of it. And she also made him smile like he was looking at the rocking ocean waves again. Sand and wind kissing his warm skin. There was a mystery in those molten eyes he wanted to taste for himself. Maybe it was possible to just enjoy a person without strings.

   To let colors bleed and swirl. To just watch it happen without fear or judgement. To not step away from it either. Just sink right in and create those echoing ripples.

   It was too sweet and peculiar, how soft Evangeline Fenny was against the hard edges of his steel frame. So sharp, it warded everyone off.

   But, not Evie, she fit perfectly against him. Fire with fire. It gave them so much in this world that had forgotten them both. Freckles to count. Eyelashes to wish upon. Flesh curves and razor angles to explore.

   Hell, he even enjoyed how shaken she got as he neared and how still she went when his fingers trailed up her legs. 

   Evie watched his muscled chest rise, the saint pendant caught the light. Looked up at his eyes and then his mouth because it couldn’t be helped. Billy Hargrove filled Evie's space and lungs with sugary smoke. He was too many colors in one soul. So, he pushed further because those painted lips were big and full and right fucking there.

   One curious taste, that couldn't hurt.

   Brought his hand up toward her chin and leaned forth when…

   “Dinner!” 

   Evie practically shoved Billy back. Scrambled up so the desk gave a rut. Bright red as he stumbled.

   “Sorry.” She shuddered, passing him. Smelling of amber perfume. “Coming, mom.” Billy stared at the back of her hair. Blinked a couple times to pull himself together. To rationalize some.

   Curiosity. A deadly thing and so sweet too.

   It felt like he was dreaming and woke up sitting at the dinner table. Evie clicked a Coke in front of him, flashed a knowing expression that made him smirk before she sat down.

   “Now, I left a bowl in the kitchen to cool. We always bring extra to Miss Abigail, she’s three doors down.” Mona was setting plates about.

   “It looks amazing, Ms. Fenny.” Billy even shifted a dish to help make room for another.

   “Please, Billy, just Mona. Ms. Fenny was my mother and she was a harder woman.” She set a glass of water down and smoothed her dress out, sitting. Billy went for his fork and his hand was snatched. Evie shot him a look as Mona reached out. “I always say grace. Don’t feel pressured to join, sweetheart.” 

   Billy peered at Evie’s warm hand in his and accepted her mother’s. Bowed his head a little so Mona could say her prayer. 

   “Bless us, oh Lord. For this and all we are about to receive, make us truly grateful. And thank you for bringing Billy to our humble table, may he truly feel welcomed in our home. Please guide and protect him. Through Christ, we pray. Amen.”

   “Amen.” Evie offered softer. Lips lifting when Billy peered at their hands again leaving each other. Clearly not expecting such words from a neighbor.

   “You’ll forgive me, Billy, some people say they leave their hearts open. I just let mine fill the room.” Mona settled a napkin in her lap. “May I ask, if your family is religious at all?”

   “Dad’s Lutheran.” Which meant Susan was by default now whatever she believed before. “We don’t go to church or anything.”

   As if Neil Hargrove could drag his son under a steeple without one of them spontaneously combusting.

   “Well, that’s perfectly fine.” Mona cut each of her meatballs into smaller pieces which Evie mirrored. “Evie doesn’t attend with me when I go. Although, the choir sure misses her voice.”

   “Mom...” A teenage whine, near silent as she prodded at noodles.

   “She get all the solos?” Billy encouraged the pink spreading Evie’s cheeks.

   “Oh, every single one. She’s even been asked to come sing the national anthem at minor league baseball games.” Mona prattled and Evie’s head fell back.

   “Mom!” Another drawn out groan. Evie sunk down lower.

   “Oh, Evangeline, let your mother brag about you.” Mona ignored her.

   "Yeah, Evangeline." He chimed in, earning a harder glare.

   “Now, Billy, you’ve been in Hawkins just over two months?” Mona continued. Blue eyes lifted from the plate before he gave a nod. “How are you liking it? I’m sure it’s such a huge change from California. You must miss the beach.”

   “Getting used to the cold.” Billy speared a meatball and didn’t sound convincing.

   “I’ll bet you’ve never seen snow before, your poor sinuses aren’t going to know what to do. Anyone in your family takes ill, just give us a ring.” Such a mom. “It took me a few years to get used to the cold here too. We moved when Evie was just a baby straight up from N’aw Lins.” 

   Billy bit his tongue.

   “What type of music do you write?” Billy asked and there was a beat when Evie realized he was looking at her. Addressing her pointedly. Maybe to make conversation and suck up to her talkative mother. Evie’s back grew taut, lips opening.

   “Evie’s gonna be a folk singer.” Mona had cut in. “Voice of an angel, she’ll make it big. She’s been in competitions, just one look from any talent scout and she’s sold.” Evie sank down again to go back to her food. Billy watched her roll a meatball around her plate like it was the most interesting thing in the room. 

   Mona Fenny struck Billy as a woman who always meant well. Frilly like a lace doily. So well, she steamrolled over you because she knew best. Evie barely got two syllables out before her mother was flicking her hair and boasting. A doll that constantly had the string in its voice box yanked.

   Billy learned a great deal about her.

   That Mona had been arrested twice in her life for marching and protesting. Civil and women’s rights. She joked that she hadn't been arrested for gay rights yet, but looked forward to the inevitable. She was a pageant queen too. Stopped when she found out she was pregnant and couldn’t compete after that. No bitterness there of course. She had a daughter to mold and complete the legacy now.

   Mona insisted on taking the plates away. Grabbing her own, Billy’s, and a side dish. 

   Evie was still rolling that meatball around until Billy plucked up a fork, stabbed it, and swallowed in one bite. She perked with flushed cheeks. Glared again.

   Billy wanted attention.

   “Your mom is friendly.” Statement of the fucking millennium.

   “Just wait til she busts out her old pageant scrapbooks. You'll never see home again.” Evie quickly flashed a smile and picked up her own plate to follow her mother off. Billy stood too, peered around. That cat had to be close. “Give it up.” Arms crossed when she leaned into the doorway working a melting ice cube around her mouth. Swallowed it whole instead of crunching. Water ran in the kitchen behind her.

   “We agreed on an hour of television.” Billy matched her stance, saw her hip cock.

   “Half hour.”

   “Hour.” Billy went in to sit on the couch like he owned it. Legs spread. “Come on in, the water’s fine, Evangeline.” Evie plucked up the remote, sat as far away from him as she could. Turned the TV on to something campy just to make him suffer.

   “Fucking Love Boat. Really? Susan watches this crap.”

   “You said the full hour.” Evie flashed a smug grin. “I think The Golden Girls is on too.”

   “Love Boat is fine.” Billy lifted his hand. Swiped the remote from her to set it on the other side of him. They both sunk in there. Eyes on the screen. Mona left them alone to bring the plate to their neighbor, stayed for conversation.

   Billy fidgeted. Stretching to scoot closer so he could nudge his knee into Evie's. Her face remained at total peace. She pushed back at his leg which drew slow smiles upon them both.

   “What kind of music do you really like, or does your mother always do all the talking?”

   “Doesn’t matter.” Evie felt him peer back over and held herself. A beat.

   “Yeah, your dreams. They don't matter." Came sarcasm. "A girl who wants her name in lights. Don't spend too much time feeling for the switch in darkness, Angel."

   "Why do you want to know?"

   "Just asking. You really want to sit in silence to this cheesefest? Young actresses paired with old ass grandpas playing love sick.” Billy put his arm up over the couch. Missed Evie twitch. Got his hand smacked for tugging her curl like a giddy little boy. 

   “I don’t know,” Evie faced him with a shrug, “somewhere in the rock and pop area. Maybe with a touch of soul. Not the hair metal I’m sure you’re into."

   How beautiful she looked when she hoped.

   "And my name in lights won't ever be enough, I need people to chant it too.”

   Lips curled at Evie.

   “Better than folk music.” Billy decided. Pride welled because she smiled too. Genuinely. Evie fiddled with her necklace. Delicate little music note caught the technicolor glow. Brown eyes turned to see him, she tried to bite the smile down. Failed.

   “So, what’s the deal with this party thing? A dance?”

   “One of many in the city. Bunch of high schools will probably run drunk through the streets with everyone else. No one will get carded because no one cares on New Years. Dancing and whatever. Watch the ball drop, it’s just the feral thing to do that night.”

   “And you could score with any girl, but you’re asking me. It won’t be like a date or anything.” Evie dropped the charm in her fingers to see Billy’s eyes linger.

   “You mentioned that. I know how to get out and have a good time without fucking. I have all sorts of tricks.” He noted the word didn’t make her wince. “Not looking to break your seal.”

   “You’re gross.” Again, no argument on the details of it.

   “You’re too tightly wound.” He paused, whispering. “Maybe not, but you hide it.”

   "Nothing to hide, I'm an open book."

   "A never ending record," Billy pushed into her so their legs pressed flush, "not nervous around me though."

   "Nope." Her lips popped, fingers curling into the hem of her dress when his arm snaked behind the couch. "Not nervous."

   "Not running either." That realization seemed to hit them both.

   "Why would I? I can handle you just fine." She hissed at that because it came out sexual. Billy licked his lips and snickered, shifting to face her head on.

   "Oh, I like the sound of that." He'd murmured, inches from her face. Evie found herself wondering how he managed to weasel his way in this close. Wondered why she was drinking him back in. "Picture this. You and this perfume enjoying a couple free drinks and some fireworks in the city. No strings attached. Not a date. Just those exploding lights and that chilly wind cooling your cheeks down, because you'll be blushing and you won't know it."

   "Uh huh. I guess I can see it." Evie sized him up and crossed her legs to lean back into him. "You and the roar of a Camaro commanding the city to its knees. Glam and hairspray working their magic."

   "I love an audience, Angel." Billy shook his head and froze because her palm came to his knee. Bold move. "But, I don't mind the front seat to see you blush too."

   "What about you?" She whispered with a hum. "What makes King Billy blush? Does all the noise you like to make hide it?" A spark flitted up her eyes. Made his chest heave. "Is that your secret?"

   "Come to the party, I'll tell you all my secrets." Fingers grazed up her arm when soft digits gave a rhythmic tap against his thigh. Billy went for it. "Do this dance with me."

   "You don't play as hard to get as you let on."

   "Not when I want something bad. Better to just play harder." Lips parted to hit that word. Her brows lifted at such an admittance. "You're sizzling up a fuse, aren't you, Evie?" She shook her head with a lazy smile. Eyes finding his again after. Near sultry.

   "You have to light a fuse first, Billy, for it to sizzle." Her hand crept along denim. Felt him go rigid and part his thighs just a little bit wider before she sat back. "And the fire's out anyway. I'll make good on the deal. If you win."

   "I hope you have a dress picked." Billy scoffed, breathless and still intent on her while she looked ahead at the screen.

   “Time is ticking. As if you taking me out will do me any good." Evie rolled her eyes and reclined back into his side. Quite comfortably like she wasn't thinking about it. "Give me cool points so Tommy and Carol leave me alone.”

   “They’re assholes to everyone. It’s not you.” Billy replied dismissively. Curled his finger into her locks behind the sofa.

   “You don’t notice who they target because you’re too busy chasing skirts and fighting others yourself. Also haven't seen the writing about me on the bathroom walls. School hierarchy rules. Open those pretty ocean eyes and see the world for what it is. You're untouched because of your front. Everyone wants to be Billy Hargrove or screw him.”

   Evie looked at him there, blinking.

   "What side of the line are you on?" He bit his lip. "I can guess."

   She plucked his hand from her shoulder and placed it back into his lap. Patted it for good measure.

   “So, you really think my eyes are pretty?” Billy laughed when a square pillow nailed him in the face. "You said it before too! When we were drunk and you still think it now that we're sober. Telling."

   Tension shattered. Evie glittered right back at him, teeth flashing. Still chuckling, he tilted his head back to create the magical sound. Quieted.

   “Fine. I’ll pay attention if it helps you sleep at night.”

   Evie blew air out her lips, let a curl fly up and bounce down. They watched the screen again. Shared a space. Maybe it shouldn't have felt so intimate. 

   “Episode’s almost over. Thanks for playing.” She about sang. Triumphant.

   “I guess you have me, Fenny.” Billy pushed up. “Mind if I take a leak?” He was already pacing off so she said nothing.

   Just watched couples go hand in hand into the sunset.

   There was a flush, the sink running, and then Billy’s huge smile crept back down the hallway. The boy was gone all of three minutes.

   Bourbon in his arms. Purring. Perfectly happy. Evie’s jaw dropped open.

   “Guess who crawled out of the shower to eyeball my junk? Not that I blame him.” Billy quipped, scratching the cat’s chin. Bourbon rubbed back into the touch. Rasped his scratchy meow for more.

   “Traitor...” Evie muttered, coming to her feet. “Damn it.”

   “Oh, yeah. You’re mine now, Evie. Seven o’clock. Wear something short if you like.” Billy’s lips were pressed up. Such an ass.

   "I call foul." Her finger lifted.

   "And I'll be calling on you. New Years Eve. Just an annoying dance. It'll be fun and free." His chin gestured at her. "Just say yes, Evie. Get out of this small town and see some lights for once. You want your name in them so bad, you gotta look at the damn things first. No day but today. Right?"

   "Right," a lengthy sigh, "but, the fire's still out. Bourbon, why? First, mom and now you. He's just hypnotizing you both.” Evie took the cat from Billy, watched his face scrunch.

   “Your cat is really named Bourbon?” He said flatter.

   “I found him when we visited family in New Orleans. Bourbon street.” She let the feline nuzzle into her chest.

   “God, Angel, I hope your lyrics are more creative than that.” Billy lightened, chest shaking as he peered away shaking his pretty head. “Well?”

   She pouted and if that cat wasn't between them, Billy didn't know what he would have done. Another time or place. Another pretty dress. Another shared beat of bleeding together.

   That itched him the rest of the night.

   “I’ll go. Seven. I’ll dress nice. It’s not a date, so don’t try anything and get me home in one piece. I reserve the right to leave you if you act like too much of an ass.” Evie grumbled some about it, defeated.

   But, she wondered about the lights and what it might be like to share them. Suppressed all urges that longed to hope.

   “That much I can do, I might even keep my ass in check. Don’t flake, we have a deal. I’ll be your Mr. Darcy or whatever.” Billy made for the door, plucking up his jacket as she opened it.

   “That’s an impossible standard, but keep dreaming.” Evie sighed out. Watched him turn to beam. Offered a pet to Bourbon. “Least you got his name right.”

   “Quick learner, I get points. New Years Eve. Don’t make me chase you, Evie, because I will.” Billy stepped off the porch lighting a cigarette, idly waved behind him.

   Game. Set. Match.

   “I’m not gonna be nice about it.” She called.

   “So, you’ll be your normal, cheery self with me. Great. Won't ask for anything else, we have a good thing going.” He turned to wink, curling a final smile. Evie stilled, petting her cat before sighing into the cold air. “See you then, Fenny.”

   “Whatever you say, Hargrove.” She shut the door as he climbed his own porch. Looked at her cat.

   “You did this to us, I hope you’re proud.” 

   Bourbon blinked. Another rumbling purr in response.

** ** **

   “The world...” Evie plucked an idle cord. Sang soft to not disturb her mother down the hallway sleeping. Nestled into the wall on her bed next to the window. “May think I’m foolish. They can’t see you like I can...”

   Darkness shrouded save for a small set of twinkling lights around her bed frame. Eyes kept averting to the clock.

   “Oh, but anyone...who...” 

   Another pause to see the clock. Eyes flickered out along the street marked with lamps. Cracking her window to see out. Nothing. Evie settled. Changed the tune to something original and plucked another heart string.

   “Those ocean eyes… Drowning me out. What I wouldn't give to...” Her palm caught the vibrating cord to snuff the sound. A groan as she set the guitar aside. “Shit.”

   That was not happening.  

   A car went down the street at the exact moment the clock struck eleven. Evie grabbed her coat and locked her bedroom door. Checked her hair and makeup before hitching one leg over the window. Felt the naughty thrill pulse into her heart as she snuck out.

   Billy peered to see beyond his own window near the foot of his bed. Unseen in the pitch black space. Thought about catching her. It was always a Saturday night. Evie Fenny crept out like clockwork. Wearing something nice under a jacket she held close. Sometimes with the guitar on her back. Lips painted red. Went down the street and returned as the sun rose. He’d observed it often. Sometimes it happened on school nights. Two to three times a week. Never asked because it didn’t seem important enough before. But, now…

   Billy knew a teen girl didn’t paint her lips red at eleven o’clock on a Saturday for just anyone.

   Evie hurried down the street toward the woods at the end. Got into a shiny car. Disappeared until sunrise.

~~~~~

Chat with me about Evie & Billy and the impending Skirt Safari Dance! Thanks!

TAGGED:@80sbxtch​ @nottherightseason​ @orxhidshavana​   @alagalaska​ @alongcamedolly​

[myforeverforlife]

meet me in my office.

For @ilovexiu​ Kyungsoo + 15. “No more!” - “Okay, fine, I won’t send you any more selfies.” + 25. “You can’t ride a bike?” - “Why are we whispering?” + 61. “Move!” - “Why would I move if I’m so comfy where I am?”

Masterlist

Despite working for one of the top music magazines in the country, it wasn’t often that you worked with anyone outside of your office floor. You were much too busy keeping finances for The Exploration with the rest of the team on your floor to even think of mingling with the rest of the staff on the floors above and below you. The only times that you did run into someone outside of your department were during your lunch breaks.

Grateful that you had chosen to wear some comfortable loafers instead of your usual heels, you waited for the elevator doors to open on the third floor. It was on this floor of the building that employees were encouraged to rest during lunch or break time. While the third floor was mostly reserved for casual meetings between departments, there were also rooms set aside with the intent for employees to take a half-hour to eat their meals. The kitchen on this floor was also much larger than on the others, save for that of the editor-in-chief’s, and the refrigerator was often stuffed full with labeled bins of Tupperware containers.

As the elevator doors opened, you weren’t surprised to find the usual suspects already on their lunch breaks.

“Hey, Y/N!” Chanyeol, one of the journalists from the fifth floor called out to you. His head peeped out from a doorway, the rest of his body hidden behind the wall of the room he was in. “Come eat lunch with us!”

“Let me get my stuff from the kitchen first!” As much as you liked to eat out with your coworkers for lunch, it wasn’t practical to do it everyday. Plus, sometimes you genuinely missed eating home cooked leftovers.

After heating up your food in the microwave, you headed over to where Chanyeol and some of your other coworkers were. Upon looking inside, you were taken aback to see that the only other people in the room were Junmyeon, one of the assistants to the editor-in-chief, and Kyungsoo, another journalist like Chanyeol. Your stomach began to do somersaults upon seeing the wide-eyed man, a familiar giddiness rising in you once you laid eyes on him.

“Join the rest of us and our sad leftover lunches,” Chanyeol greeted, nodding towards an empty chair at the table. Sure enough, it was the one next to Kyungsoo.

“They’re not sad leftovers,” Kyungsoo argued as you silently slipped into the seat beside him. “Good food is good food, no matter if its been refrigerated and reheated all over again.”

“Alright, sorry. I should’ve known better than to insult food in front of a bona-fide foodie.” Chanyeol winced as Kyungsoo pretended to poke his arm with a fork.

Junmyeon just smiled fondly at his friends’ antics before turning his attention to you. “How’s your day going?”

“Well, aside from some calculations on how much it’ll cost to fly some of out journalists out to that music festival next month and some reviewing of the past week’s expenses, nothing too exciting has happened.” You speared a piece of chicken with your fork, popping it into your mouth as you thought. “Oh!” You hurried to chew and swallow your bite of food before speaking. “But I did hear through the grapevine that the spread on Kai’s new album is gonna be insane.”

“Insane? Like good insane, or...” Chanyeol trailed off, his large eyes watching you curiously.

“It sounds like it’s gonna be really good. They’re thinking of having it set in Milan, since he’ll already be there for a Gucci event.” You sighed dreamily, fork dangling from your hand and you rested your chin in your other hand. “I’m really jealous of whoever gets to go on that trip.”

Kyungsoo was all too immersed in his lunch, picking absentmindedly at his food with a hint of pink dusting his cheeks. Junmyeon cocked his head, studying the other man with interest. “You okay, Soo?”

With a cough, Kyungsoo straightened up. “Yeah. Uh, I’m actually going on that trip. I’m going to be holding the interview with him.”

“You’re what?!” both you and Chanyeol exclaimed at the same time.

“You’re so lucky!” you added, stars in your eyes. “Are you excited?”

Kyungsoo shrugged. “I guess, I mean, his music is good, but I’m just not sure I’m the right person to interview him. I’m not a fan like you and Chanyeol.”

“If you want me to go for you, just say the word,” Chanyeol offered. He broke into a wide grin when Kyungsoo glared at him, completely unfazed.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” you said. “And it’s probably better that we’re sending someone who’s not already a Kai fan. You know, being unbiased and all.” You laid your hand over one of Kyungsoo’s. “We’ll miss you though.”

Kyungsoo stammered, eyes flickering between your face and your hand on his repeatedly. Noticing his friend’s dilemma, Chanyeol smiled wickedly as he leaned back in his seat, arms crossed. “Yeah, we will. I guess we’ll have to send you pictures of us every day so you won’t forget what we look like.”

Easily distracted, Kyungsoo forgot all about the sensation of your hand on his as he was reminded of Chanyeol constantly sending him pictures of random things throughout the day. The worst this week had been one of a pile of chocolate wrappers with no explanation, sent at three in the morning. “No more! No more pictures from you unless it’s actually important. And no, finding a chip in the supposed shape of a celebrity isn’t important.”

Chanyeol pouted. “Okay, fine, I won’t send you any more selfies either.”

Kyungsoo bit back the comeback lingering on his tongue, not wanting to argue with Chanyeol in front of you. Granted, you had seen him and Chanyeol fight playfully before, but still, it was important to Kyungsoo that he keep up a perfect front in front of you. You were always so sweet and bubbly, to put any sort of damper on it seemed like a sin.

“When do you leave for Milan?” you asked, waiting eagerly for Kyungsoo’s response.

“By the end of this month. Our team’s just starting to plan things out with people on your end, so once all of the expenses are calculated and the reservations are made, we can head out.”

“I know you’ll have a great time!” You tapped your feet excitedly against the floor, knees bouncing up and down. “Gosh, you get paid to go to Europe.”

“I’ll bring you all back some souvenirs,” Kyungsoo promised.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, even as Chanyeol shook his head in disagreement. “Save your money to do some fun things for yourself. You deserve this break.”

Kyungsoo’s cheeks turned rosy as he smiled, his eyes cast downwards. “Thanks.”

All talk of Milan was replaced with a story Junmyeon had about a missing story and the frantic 24 hours he just had. Kyungsoo watched admiringly as you laughed in all the right places, and sympathized with Junmyeon in the rest. You were so attuned to others’ emotions, he was surprised that you had chosen to work in what he considered the emotionless field of organization and computing with numbers. But what he didn’t know was that sometimes you needed the distraction that finances gave you.

Especially when it came to thoughts of him. 

A few weeks later, in a fit of boredom, you wandered over to Kyungsoo’s office on the floor below you. Once you got there,you knocked on Kyungsoo’s open door, leaning against the frame. “Hi, can I come in?”

“Of course.” Kyungsoo took off his headphones, clumsily setting them down on his desk. “What brings you over here?”

“Nothing, I just got bored. Things have been slow today since we’ve completed almost everything for the next month’s spread. How are preparations going for your trip?”

Kyungsoo sat up, clearing his throat. “Pretty good. They told me that your team’s already cleared reservations at the hotel, and for the flights there and back. I’m just worried about traveling within the city — how expensive do you think it’ll be to take a taxi or a rental car everywhere?”

“Hmm, I’ll have to get back to you on that. It shouldn’t be too much though. Ooh, you can go biking through Milan! It’ll be like in Roman Holiday. Well,” you put a finger to your chin as you thought. “I guess not exactly like it, since you won’t be in Rome.”

Kyungsoo smiled to himself at your monologue. “I never learned how to ride a bike.”

“You can’t ride a bike?” your voice immediately dropped down into a whisper.

“No. Why are we whispering?”

“Oh, sorry. I was just surprised, I guess. I mean, you know how to ride motorcycles but not a bike?”

“I only know how to ride a motorcycle because Chanyeol practically begged me to learn with him. He said there wasn’t a point in having a license if he had no one to ride with,” Kyungsoo said, rolling his eyes with a smile.

“That’s sweet of you. You know, most people would have just ignored him or told him no straight-up. But then again, you’re not like most people.” You grinned back at him, brushing a piece of hair away from your face.

Kyungsoo stared blankly for a second, eyelashes nearly brushing against his glasses. “Are you flirting with me right now?”

Startled by his sudden bluntness, you stumbled over your words. “I-I guess? I’ve really been flirting with you for a while.” Kyungsoo continued to stare wide-eyed, completely motionless. “Sorry, I um... I’ll just go.” You turned to leave when Kyungsoo got up from his chair, his hand reaching out for your wrist.

“Wait,” he said. “Where are you going?”

“Back to my office. Can we uh, just forget this ever happened?”

“Why?” Kyungsoo’s brows crumpled up.

“Because it’s embarassing, and you obviously don’t feel the same way!” You wrenched your wrist out of his hold.

“What? When did I say that?”

Both of you were equally as confused, you on the verge of running out of the room and Kyungsoo still shell-shocked from your sudden confession.

“Well... you didn’t, really, I guess. I just assumed since you didn’t say anything...”

“I.. you caught me off guard,” Kyungsoo replied. “I’ve liked you for a while, Y/N.”

The two of you were locked in an staring contest, both sides processing the reality of what was going on.

“Really?” you finally spoke up. “You’re not just saying this to make me feel better, right?”

“I’m not,” Kyungsoo replied with a tiny shake of his head.

“How come you never said anything? I never would’ve confessed if you hadn’t called me out on it right now.” You laughed shyly, one hand coming to play with the hem of your sleeve.

Kyungsoo shrugged. “I don’t know. I was worried I was reading too much into it, that I was just imagining what I thought I saw.”

Both hands clasped behind your back, you moved closer until you were face to face with him. “Well, I’m here now. And this feels pretty real to me.”

His gaze dropped down to your lips, his tongue peeking out to run over his own lips briefly. Leaning in, your eyes began to close, Kyungsoo following your lead and doing the same. He was only a few inches away, you could feel the warmth of his body as you slowly, slowly closed the gap until —

“Hey, are you — oh. Uh...”

You and Kyungsoo both jumped back from each other in surprise, your hand on your heart to try and calm the frantic beating while Kyungsoo ran a hand over his hair. “Sehun,” Kyungsoo spoke up gruffly. “What is it?”

“Uh, the boss wants to see you in her office. You too, Y/N. The finance team is running over the final numbers for the Milan trip.”

“Coming!” you chirped up, looking much calmer than you had a second ago. Kyungsoo, on the other hand, was still trying to get over the surprise of Sehun bursting into his office.

With a quick nod, Sehun hurried away, his footfalls soft against the carpeted hallway.

“Well, I guess we’re needed right now.” Noticing Kyungsoo’s dejected expression, you reached up to smooth down his tie and dust off the shoulders of his button-up. “Don’t worry, we can finish this up later.” With a wink, you pulled on Kyungsoo’s hand, leading him to the editor-in-chief’s office.

Lucky for you, your team was let out a bit earlier once the final numbers had been run through and all last-minute changes had been accounted for. You waved to Kyungsoo as you left, giggling to yourself as he looked after you longingly. Seeing as you didn’t have anything immediate to work on, you took another detour back to his office and waited until he came back. It was worth it to see Kyungsoo pause at the doorway when he saw you before beaming widely.

“Hey, what are you doing in my chair?” Kyungsoo asked, coming to lean against his desk.

“Well, seeing as it was empty and no one else was here, I thought I might as well take advantage of it. You know,” you relaxed against the back of the chair. “I think your office is a little bigger than mine.”

“Move! You have your own chair in your office,” Kyungsoo teased lightly.

“Why would I move if I’m so comfy where I am?”

Kyungsoo rolled his eyes with a smile. “Fine, you can sit there.”

“Thanks. I was hoping we could pick up where we left off.” You winked suggestively, bursting into laughter as Kyungsoo gaped open-mouthed at you. “Soo, I’m kidding. But on a similar note, are you free for dinner tonight?”

Kyungsoo was still reeling from your use of his nickname, a goofy grin on his face as he nodded. “Yeah, I’m off at six today.”

“Perfect. I’ll meet you downstairs in the lobby then." Rising from Kyungsoo's seat, you were about to walk past when you surprised him with a kiss to the cheek, your lips lingering for a bit before you continued on, out of his office and back to your own.

He stared after you, dropping into his chair with a hand to his cheek, as if he could still feel your lips there. Just at that moment, Chanyeol walked in, a sheaf of papers in his hand. He paused in his steps when he noticed the dazed expression on Kyungsoo's face, concern twisting his eyebrows upwards. "You okay, Soo?"

"Yeah," Kyungsoo sighed out happily. “Never been better."

A/N: this started off as y/n and kyungsoo getting stranded during a road trip, but I kept coming back to it and nothing was working out, so I ended up trying out another trope i’ve always wanted to do: office romance haha

[shima-draws]

Oh my gosh okay-I hope this doesn't sound weird but would you be willing to write a BNHA drabble about your college AU? Maybe something with Todoroki and Deku and All Might together? I love your AU and would love to see you write more about it!!

[[Send me a fandom/ship/prompt and I’ll write a drabble for it!]]

!!! I WAS SO HAPPY TO GET THIS ASK OH MY GOD?? I love doing stuff for my College AU…thank you for sending this in!

Anyway I got carried away (no surprise there, lmao) so this ended up being. Over 2k words. NOT MY INTENTION BUT I HAD FUN SO THAT’S ALL THAT MATTERS ANYWAY RIGHT

For anyone reading who doesn’t know anything about my College AU, I provided lots of background info in the fic anyway just in case? So it should work as a standalone oneshot without any prior context? But if you want the majority of the AUs details, you can check that out here c:

Anyway. Toshi and Izuku literally act like they’ve been father and son all their lives, Shouto thirsts, and there’s brief mentions of plane engines involved. Fun stuff.

ENJOY FAM!!

——————————————————–

“I’m not sure about this, Midoriya.”

They stand outside of the hangar entrance, the afternoon sun beating down on them. Summer hasn’t entirely left yet, the air still thick with heat. Shouto puffs out a breath and wipes the sweat off his forehead—from being hot or being nervous, he isn’t sure.

“Oh, come on,” Midoriya, gorgeous, perfect, endlessly kind Midoriya, nudges him in his side. “I’ve been wanting you to come here for a while and now you finally got the chance to since your afternoon class got cancelled! And I have clearance. So it’ll be fine!”

Shouto doesn’t really know of any other military hangars that sit on the edge of a college campus like this one does, so he knows it’s a pretty unique setup. A lot of people take classes here despite the intimidating black gate around the building and the numerous warning signs plastered to the structure. The students into aeronautics really do have it lucky. And so does Midoriya—currently an aerospace engineering major. He has access to the building, and has been pestering Shouto for weeks to come see the kinds of things he gets up to. Especially since he’s also a teacher assistant for one of the professors. And this particular professor is extremely well-known both within his field and outside of it.

Upon hearing Shouto’s quiet admittance of admiration for said professor, Midoriya immediately decided it would be a good idea to introduce them. In person.

Shouto’s really tempted to turn back around and head back to his dorm, even though he knows Bakugou is probably there right now doing unspeakable things to Kirishima—having to sit through that more than awkward situation sounds better than possibly passing out from meeting someone so unbelievably famous.

But Midoriya, with his lovely smile and bright green eyes and perfect everything, grabs Shouto’s hand and ushers him along, which promptly shuts up every bad thought he’s having. He is more than okay with this. Totally not about to trip over his own feet or anything. Are his hands sweaty? God, they probably are, it’s already sweltering outside, and Midoriya’s hand is strong and callused, most likely from all the engineering work he does, and Shouto’s hand is probably all gross from constantly plucking on guitar strings and gracelessly hitting piano keys and tapping away on his laptop while he fiddles with his composing programs, and—

Midoriya scans his student ID and the automatic doors open with a soft hiss, cutting off all train of thought. Shouto idly notices the green-haired boy still hasn’t let go of his hand, and refuses to comment on it. Let him enjoy this.

They travel down a series of twisting and turning hallways. All the people that pass through raise their hands in greeting to Midoriya, who energetically says hello every time. They all seem to know him, and seem genuinely happy to see him—like he’s someone important, someone worth going out of their way to say hi to. Shouto’s secretly glad that Midoriya gets such good attention from these people. He definitely deserves it.

They finally reach a very plain-looking and unassuming door. Midoriya releases Shouto’s hand (much to his disappointment—and he’s almost tempted to try holding it again) to unlock the door with his card.

When they stroll in, Shouto takes a second to look around. They seem to be in a workroom of sorts—blueprints and papers are scattered all about, as well as several complicated looking mechanical parts, tools, and larger machinery. Midoriya hums, a thoughtful frown crossing his features.

“That’s weird. I’m sure he’s on break right now…maybe he’s in the workshop?”

A resounding clang echoing from the doorway at the far side of the room is their answer.

Midoriya brightens like the sun, and Shouto thinks his smile is almost blinding in its intensity. 

“Toshi!” He cries out, happily, and scampers into the next room. Shouto follows him at a slower pace, apprehension sinking into his nerves. He’s mere steps away from meeting Toshinori Yagi, All Might—one of the most famous war heroes in their country’s history, not to mention the man his father has a personal vendetta against—and Midoriya is on a first name basis with him. A nickname basis with him. That’s—that’s fine. It’s fine.

The last thing Shouto expects to see when he steps into the workshop is a tall, spindly looking man who is all bones and no muscle halfway buried under a plane engine. Huh.

Midoriya bounces on his heels. His grin is contagious, because Shouto feels his own lips quirking up at the corners. He looks like an oversized puppy.

Hearing them come in, the man underneath the engine propels himself out on a small rolling platform. He’s covered in dirt and grime, his shirt sleeves rolled up to the creases of his elbows. He looks gaunt—cheekbones sunken in, eyes dull and skin alabaster pale. Upon seeing Midoriya, though, his whole entire face lights up—and it’s like the green-haired boy’s presence is breathing life into his very frame, because he suddenly looks more vigorous than ever.

“Izuku, my boy!” He says with a wide grin, practically beaming. The pure delight at seeing Midoriya seems to radiate off of him. Shouto blinks in shock.

This is All Might?

Shouto had seen tons of pictures and online articles about him after the plane crash that had destroyed his body and therefore ruined his career, but witnessing him in person is definitely different. He’d gone from being an almost superpowered pilot to a sad, miserable shell of himself—but despite all that, he’s still working with planes and engines as he used to, just no longer out in the field. The fact that he’d gone from being a well-respected and admired military hero to a, well, still well-respected and admired professor of all things is a bit of a shock. (Then again, Midoriya had mentioned offhandedly that All Might always had a soft spot for mentoring and training others. It sort of makes sense that this is the direction he’d go with his career after being forbidden from being put back on active duty ever again.)

“Hey, Toshi!” Midoriya greets like it’s the most normal thing in the world to walk in on a legendary icon casually fixing a piece of complicated mechanic equipment. Shouto thinks his head is going to explode.

“Help me up, would you, my boy?” All Might asks, and Midoriya is at his side within seconds, easily pulling him to his feet. (Shouto pretends he isn’t openly watching the muscles in his arms flex with the movement.)

Once they’re all straightened out, All Might gratefully ruffles Midoriya’s hair, who giggles in delight. Shouto is in absolute disbelief when the blonde man loops an arm around Midoriya’s shoulder and pulls him into a side hug, which the boy melts into easily, naturally, like this is a common occurrence. They’re the picture of absolute camaraderie and Shouto feels like he’s going to drown under the mountain of questions he has about this predicament. Midoriya’s told him plenty of stories about how All Might had plucked him out of a sea of endless eager faces desperate to please and had given him the means to chase his dreams—but he hadn’t mentioned much about why they’re so close, or how they moved past the mentor-protégé stage and into the realm of actual friendship. Or…family, it seems now, because with the way they’re playfully nudging each other it really looks like they could be father and son. 

After the two of them finally settle down, All Might’s gaze travels over to land on Shouto—and a shocked look makes the very vibrant blue of his eyes stand out even more.

“Oh! Um,” Midoriya dances on his feet for a second before rushing over to Shouto and gently guiding him forward, fingers grasping the crook of his elbow.

“This is Todoroki-kun! The, uh, the friend that I told you about before!”

Understanding dawns on All Might’s face, along with a strange knowing look that twinkles in his eyes.

“Oh, yes,” he chuckles, putting his hands on his hips. Despite looking somewhat like a walking talking skeleton, the way he holds himself is confident, yet friendly. Shouto’s starting to see how he ended up in a professor position. “I’ve heard plenty of good things about you from Izuku, young Todoroki.”

Shouto’s mouth drops open in surprise, and he feels his cheeks become warm. Midoriya’s talked about him? To All Might? And—and he’d told him good things?

“Toshi!” Midoriya squeaks, his arms flailing about. It’s a nervous habit Shouto’s picked up on throughout the course of their friendship.

All Might leans back and laughs, a full, deep-sounding one from his belly. And even though he’s not even close to looking like he once did in his prime, Shouto can practically feel the raw power emanating from that laugh.

Midoriya is pouting, but it’s half-hearted at best. If Shouto had more guts he’d start to consider taking that lower lip between his and kissing the boy silly, but again, he’s nowhere near ballsy enough. Bakugou wouldn’t hesitate at all but Shouto has standards, thank you very much.

His attention is drawn back to All Might when the man steps forward and offers a hand.

“I’m glad to officially meet the boy my favorite student talks about so much,” All Might says with a wide grin. Midoriya sputters but Shouto smiles, feeling a bit warm on the inside.

He definitely had his doubts before, but now he’s absolutely certain. Whatever relationship All Might and Midoriya have, it’s special, important, and he can tell just by looking at the older man that he absolutely treasures Midoriya, just like Shouto does. Good. All Might has very good taste. Not that he’s entirely surprised. Midoriya is a literal ray of sunshine and anyone who thinks otherwise is either completely blind or a massive idiot. (I’m looking at you, Bakugou.)

“It’s an honor to meet you, All Might,” Shouto says, honestly, taking the blonde’s outstretched hand.

All Might startled at that, blinking a few times. Then, he chuckles, shaking Shouto’s hand vigorously.

“Please, please, no need for formalities! Besides, I haven’t gone by that codename in years. Call me Toshinori, okay?” He says, smiling kindly.

Shouto exhales when All M—Toshinori releases his hand. (God, thats gonna take  getting used to.) “Oh…sure.”

Midoriya bounces back over to his side, his posture eager in its tension. “Toshi, did you see the blueprints I left for you yesterday? I wanted to double check and make sure I did all my calculations correctly…”

Toshinori hums thoughtfully for a moment, and then he nods in recollection. “Oh, yes, yes! That’s right. You did wonderfully on them, my dear boy. I think this next assignment is going to be the perfect amount of challenging for my class.”

Midoriya lights up like a goddamn Christmas tree, and Shouto’s having a very hard time not laughing at how thoroughly pleased he looks. He didn’t realize how much Midoriya appreciates Toshinori’s praise, but he guesses it’s a bit obvious why.

“If we apply what you drew out to the most current version of the engine…ah, let me see…where did I put those blueprints…?”

“You two are pretty close,” Shouto comments, watching as Toshinori putters about in the shop.

Midoriya blinks at that. “We are?”

Shouto looks at him incredulously. “You’re on a first name basis, you’re more relaxed with him than I’ve ever seen you with anyone else, you hang off of each other like you’ve been friends for years and he calls you “my dear boy”. And you call him “Toshi”. So yeah. That’s the very definition of being close, Midoriya.”

Instead of getting embarrassed like Shouto thinks he will, Midoriya looks down at the floor thoughtfully.

“Yeah,” he says, quietly, after a long stretch of comfortable silence. He glances up at Shouto, beaming. “I guess we are.”

His gaze travels back over to Toshinori, who is now digging through a pile of blueprints.

“He means a lot to me,” Midoriya admits, softly, fondly. “He’s done a lot for me. He’s…one of the most important people in my life.”

Shouto closes his eyes and smiles. He’s glad Midoriya has someone on his side like this, an adult figure who’s willing to be there for him through thick and thin. He knows this goes both ways, too—Midoriya is clearly giving Toshinori all the credit, but what he doesn’t realize is that Shouto’s sure Toshinori believes Midoriya to be irreplaceable as well.

He opens his eyes to see Midoriya gazing at him affectionately, and his heart leaps. Maybe one day he can become this important to Midoriya, too.

——————————————————–

BUT LITTLE DOES SHOUTO KNOW, HE ALREADY IS. IZUKU’S JUST BAD AT SHOWING IT LMAO

At this point in the AU they’re already crushing hard on each other and Izuku has already fallen into a routine with Toshi where he invades his apartment at 3 AM to ramble on about how gay he is for Shouto. So Toshi is VERY well aware of his attachment to him hence his subtle teasing when they’re finally introduced in person lmao

Anyway I hope you enjoyed–I had so much fun writing this!! I love my kids :’D

[whatadaze]

for some reason i just HAVE to listen to bon iver when i’m writing this au. it just gives the perfect shy!noah ~feels~ anywho, a continuation to this masterpiece

Liv doesn’t remember falling asleep but when she wakes up, she immediately remembers whose bed she’s in. And it’s not because she opens her eyes and sees his room, but because of the warm body she feels beside her,

the smell of Noah permeating through the sheets and up her nose,

and the steady breathing she hears coming from his side.

She’s surrounded by him and she can’t help but smile.

When Liv finally opens her eyes, she is taken aback by just how handsome Noah Boom is.

The way his hair curls and frames his face, the soft pink of his lips, and his long dark lashes. 

The smooth slope of his nose, the arch of his brows, and the slight dimples in his cheeks.

He might not be the conventional type of handsome, but to Liv, he’s the most beautiful boy she’s ever seen. 

(and that thought makes her blush.)

“Noah?” she whispers, even though she doesn’t really want to wake him. 

She holds in her breath, waiting to see if his eyes flutter open, but his breathing remains steady and his eyes remain closed. Liv lets out a breath and continues to study him, not really caring that Ralph is probably back home and she could leave. 

Because even if it’s for five more seconds, she is perfectly content with just laying in Noah’s bed and watching him sleep.

******

Maybe this is a bit intrusive, but it’s the least she could do right? 

After all, Noah could’ve easily kicked her out but he decided to let her spend the night. So making breakfast is nothing compared to his generous offer. 

Liv opens and closes the cabinets, not really sure where everything is, but eventually, she is able to find some tea bags and toast. Surprisingly, she also finds some jam, although it looks like it’d never been open.

She pops the pieces of toasts in the toaster and begins to boil some water in the kettle. 

As she waits for the water to heat up, she leans against the kitchen counter and is suddenly aware of how unused the kitchen looks. 

And as she continues to scan his house, she is aware of how uninhabited the space is—a stark contrast from Noah’s room upstairs. 

She begins to wonder more about the boy sleeping upstairs but her thoughts are interrupted by the loud shriek coming from the kettle. She quickly stumbles to move it off the stove and hopes that the sound didn’t wake him. 

Liv pours the water into two separate mugs and as she soaks the tea bags, the toasts pop out of the toaster. 

She is so consumed with the task in hand, that she doesn’t even notice that she isn’t alone in the kitchen anymore. Some time between her getting lost in her own thoughts and the shriek of the kettle, Noah sauntered downstairs and remained frozen by the doorway. 

Liv turns around to grab the jar of jam and it’s only then that she finally sees him.

“Fuck!” she shouts, almost dropping the jar. “You scared me!” 

Noah’s face reddens and he takes a step back. 

“S-Sorry I didn’t-” he stutters. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just-”

Liv takes a deep breath and suddenly bursts out in laughter.

“It’s not your fault!” she says, clutching her stomach. “Wow, I don’t remember the last time someone scared me like that.” 

And it’s like her laughter is contagious because soon enough, Noah is laughing alongside with her.

The sound of his laughter catches Liv’s attention and she settles down just enough to say, “That’s the second time,” she says, a proud smile on her face. “That I made you laugh.” 

Her comment makes his face go red again and she offers him a mug. 

“Tea,” she tells him. “It’s the superior hot dink, remember?” 

He accepts the mug with a shy smile and hesitantly takes a sip. 

Liv watches as he contemplates the taste of the tea before raising her own mug to her lips. 

“Hm,” he sighs. “I think I still like coffee a bit better...but this is okay too I guess.” 

She smiles at his words and slides the plate of toast towards him. 

“You really have no food in here,” she tells him. “I didn’t want to invade your kitchen but it took me a good ten minutes just to find this. How do you survive, Noah?” 

She’s partially joking but genuinely curious. Maybe it’s because she is the one who usually cooks at her place, always making enough food for Ralph even though he never asks. It’s just something she liked to do she presumes.

Noah shrugs his shoulders and takes a bite of the toast. 

“I’m never really home actually,” he finally says. “Only in the mornings and nights. I guess...I eat out most days. I’m not that great of a cook.” 

Liv takes a bite of her toast. “Well lucky for you, I am an excellent cook. Next time, you should come by my place and I’ll prove it to you.” 

Her offer makes his face flush again, but at this point, Liv assumes Noah isn’t even aware how cute his reactions to her really is. And she can’t help but push his buttons ever so slightly to get those reactions from him. 

“Kidding,” she says, laughing at the surprise on his face. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, Noah. I feel like I’ve already made you do so much for me already.” 

But to her surprise, Noah quickly shakes his head, almost coughing up the piece of toast he had swallowed in the process.

“N-No,” he says, taking a few steps towards her. “I like it.” 

Liv straightens up at his words. 

“I mean,” he continues, taking in a shaky breath. “I like to do these things...for you. It’s not..I don’t mind.” 

And now it’s Liv who’s blushing and she takes a sip of her tea to hide it. 

But her eyes never leaves his as she watches him over the rim of her mug, and his eyes never leave hers either. As she sets the mug back down, she sends a warm smile his way before propping herself up onto the counter.

She pats the spot next to her, urging him to take a seat beside her.

“There’s chairs...” he mutters, pointing to the barstools right beside her.

This makes her laugh again and she reaches out for his arm to drag him towards her. 

“It’s more fun sitting like this sometimes,” she says, giggling at the way Noah struggles to lift himself up.

But eventually, he manages to do so and their sitting side by side, each holding a now lukewarm mug of tea and half eaten pieces of toast. 

“This is nice,” she sighs, closing her eyes and basking in the warmth from the sunlight streaming through the kitchen windows. “I think you’re almost there, Noah Boom.” 

She opens one eye to peek over at him and sees him staring at her curiously.

“Almost where?” 

She closes her eye again and a soft smile graces her lips.

“Almost at the point of trusting me,” she says. “I can feel it.”

******

When Liv finally returns home, Ralph is sitting in the living room—decked out in his bear onesie and watching one of those crappy reality tv shows. 

And normally, she would make fun of him for it or beg him to change the channel, but today she doesn’t care.

“You look especially happy, Livvie-Love,” he says, a suspicious glint in his eyes. “Care to share?” 

Liv hangs up her coat and tries (and fails) to hide her smile. 

“Nope,” she tells him. “Some things are better left as a secret.” 

She sends a playful wink his way and rushes to her room, her fingers itching to write down the lyrics that had been flowing in her head since this morning.

The lyrics that remind her of him. 

[luxexhomines]

Can I request Kokichi with his (S/O) who has the Hanahaki Disease? you can choose how it could end, with a good ending, or a bad ending, the power is yours owo

I have to say, anon, your ask made me laugh a lot when I saw it. It sounds so dramatic, aha! “The power is yours…..” and then with an owo. Anyways, here it is! I feel like it could have gone many different ways, but this is what I ended up with. I think it’s a little too long, though…and probably could have used more angst… Ah, well, maybe next time I’ll try writing the other ending if I feel so inclined to try or have some spurt of inspiration.

Kokichi Ouma x Reader with Hanahaki Disease

“Hey, Kokichi?”

You called out to the boy, who was walking in front of you in the empty hallway. He stopped and turned to face you.

“Hm? What is it?”

His face was relatively devoid of expression, especially in comparison to the usual dramatic faces he’d make. Your eyes took in the sight of him–his dark hair that twirled upward, his purple eyes, his slim frame.

“Ah–it’s nothing, sorry.”

His face twisted into an expression of amusement, and then he laughed, placing his hands behind his head casually.

“Yeah, how dare you waste the Ultimate Supreme Leader’s time with nothing! You have to make it up to me by hanging out with me tomorrow, okay?”

And with that, he skipped away without waiting for an answer. You supposed he knew you wouldn’t refuse–or rather, couldn’t refuse.

You loved him, after all. Although you weren’t sure whether he knew or not, he was astute and you figured he probably knew and just didn’t want to do anything about it.

You strolled down the hallway after him and out of the school, on your way home. That was when you felt an itch or discomfort of sorts in your chest, and you coughed. It wouldn’t go away, so you coughed and hacked some more, and then you felt something come into your mouth. It felt solid, so you spit out whatever it was into your hand, only for your eyes to meet a bright yellow flower petal–and a single drop of blood tinged its edge ominously.

You threw it away and watched it flutter to the ground gently as if it were just another petal shed by the spring rather than evidence of something terribly, terribly wrong within you. It was nothing, you were sure. You shouldn’t think too much of it, you told yourself, and you marched on home defiantly.

You tapped your foot impatiently. You’d been waiting here at the mall for at least ten minutes now, and it was originally Kokichi’s idea to hang out, too. He had sent you the pinned location and time, along with a mildly threatening message compelling you to come. You had felt a strange, twisting sensation in your gut and an aching feeling in your chest before you left–as if telling you not to leave, but you brushed off the ominous premonition of danger or foreboding, reminding yourself that you had no choice but to come whether you wanted to or not.

An hour passed with neither sign nor notice from the very person who had invited you. Your heart sank. Was this just another prank of his? But even for the mischievous prankster who seemed to, to some extent, embody schadenfreude (the enjoyment of the suffering of others), this seemed much too cruel. You had been sitting on the bench, refreshing your texts hopelessly, even though you knew there was a low chance of him saying anything now. Dejected, you leaned back–but then you felt that odd discomfort living in your chest again, and hunched forward, coughing.

You hacked for some time before feeling something solid in your mouth again, and you spit it out ungracefully, only for more yellow petals to be revealed, and they fell limply to the floor, slightly damp and the edges tinged with a red substance–what that substance was, you didn’t care to figure out.

You stood to leave and then spotted a silhouette in the distance coming closer and closer. It was Kokichi, and he was running toward you for once, rather than away after playing a prank.

He waves, out of breath, and has to take a moment to catch his breath before speaking. You cross your arms across your chest.

“This had better be good, Kokichi,” you warned, but you felt your voice tremble slightly.

He straightens up and brushes the wrinkles out of his clothes.

“Sorry,” he apologizes in what seems to be a rather genuine manner. “I didn’t do it on purpose–not this time, at least,” he adds on after receiving a dubious look from you.

You sigh.

“It’s fine… Can you tell me ahead of time next time? Or just let me know how much longer you’ll be?”

He scratches his cheek sheepishly, looking cowed for once.

“I forgot to bring my phone… But yeah, I will next time. If I have my phone, that is. Do you still want to hang out?”

You feel a little voice inside you screaming at you to say yes, that you didn’t wait this long for him only to go home!

But you stamped it out mercilessly.

“I’m not feeling too well,” you admit, and as if on cue, you start coughing again.

Even though you weren’t one to worry about physical symptoms too much, the persistence of this was grating on your nerves and you were beginning to feel anxious. You didn’t put much stock in rumors, either, but who hadn’t heard of the Hanahaki disease? It was easy to brush it off the first two times it had happened, but a third time seemed to solidify your suspicions of the petals being something more than mere coincidence.

You can’t stop coughing, and again, yellow petals escape your parted lips before you can put a hand over your mouth and hide them.

“What’s that? Flower petals?” he asks, and he bends down to retrieve one of the fatal pieces of evidence; evidence of your love, your affection for none other than him.

You try to snatch it from those conniving fingertips, but he draws his hand back, out of your reach.

“Don’t touch that,” you rasp. “It’s dirty.”

But you’re ultimately unable to stop him as he lifts the damning petal upward so it catches the eye of the sun, and with it, the crimson-brown stains around its circumference are more than clear. You watch his face carefully, holding your breath. You didn’t know what he thought and hoped he wouldn’t see the truth you suspected.

His purple eyes gleam, and he faces you once again with a playful attitude.

“Oho? Do you happen to like someone?” he teases. “The pursuit of their affections isn’t going so well, is it?”

Your lips tighten into a straight, thin line, and you shake your head stiffly. To think you had thought for a moment that he might be sensitive to your impending crisis, that perhaps he might just realize it was him and reciprocate your love-

“So what? What’s it to you?” you interject hoarsely. “It’s none of your business, Kokichi. You’re always butting in whenever you please, and then you disappear when I’m looking for you. You have no right to talk to me about something like this.”

His expression changes so quickly, you almost miss it–for a moment, you thought he looked bitter–but he just has a cocky, self-serving smirk in place and his eyes are darkly shining, like the ore of a rock.

“That’s just the way I am, right? Can’t expect more than that from a guy like me.”

Frustration and anger burst from you in the form of speech, even if language could never express the intensity of the outrage you felt upon hearing such words from him.

“Don’t say that! You were supposed to refute me. I’m the only one allowed to say something like that to you!” you shout at him and spinning on your heel, you make your exit, turbid emotions still bubbling inside you and clawing to be let out.

The journey home is a space of time you don’t remember in the least. What you do remember after getting home is slamming the door to your room after you, leaning against it and then bending forward and coughing uncontrollably, wheezing for air with each bout of air you expelled from your lungs in addition to a cascade of ironically bright yellow petals that seemed to have flourished inside your body before leaving your lips like fluttering snow from clouds, coated in slick, red blood.

You don’t bother responding to his texts of concern or his provocative statements in an effort to just get some kind of answer from you, and roll over on your side in your bed so you face the wall, shutting your mind and heart to the world outside, longing to escape the turmoil shaking you from the core.

You wake to sunlight trickling in and running onto your closed eyes, so you open them blearily.

Almost immediately upon regaining consciousness, you feel that familiar pain in your chest, and you sit up, allowing a couple coughs to escape you, along with a few yellow petals.

All you could think was that you had to wrench yourself out of bed, had to get up and engage in your usual morning routine. So you did.

You coughed all the way from your room to the kitchen, where you wanted to make yourself something to eat. Or, at least, maybe put a piece of bread in the toaster. But even that proved to be too difficult, and your knees collapsed beneath you as you fell into another fit of coughing.

The golden petals seemed to be mocking you with their beauty, as jewels from tears must have in the fairytale of the girl who cried pearls and precious gems. You knew somewhere in your hazy state of mind that it hadn’t always been like this, that in fact, you had only been suffering from this affliction for less than two days–but somehow you couldn’t seem to remember a day you had lived without this hurt in your chest, and you clung to the kitchen counter from your position on the floor weakly.

Then you heard the door burst open, and footsteps neared you. You closed your eyes. This situation would be very difficult to explain.

“Hey, are you okay?!”

It was him, and by the sound of his voice, he was sincerely worried.

You try to respond, but all that comes out is some heavy breathing and more coughing, accompanied by the signature petals of gold. You lift your head to look at him and shrug helplessly. It’s then that you become aware, also, of the way your entire being is shivering.

“I knew something was up,” he bites his thumb in irritation. “You should have just told me! Am I so hard to rely on?”

But before you can reply, he answers his question for himself.

“Of course I am,” he mutters spitefully.

You open your mouth to object, once again, to the derogatory way he talks about himself, but little comes out.

“N-No,” you cough.

His eyes widen.

“Did you say ‘no’? So you can talk, after all. Just barely.”

You nod to affirm his conclusion, and he sighs in relief.

“So that’ll make this a little easier, then.”

He looks you straight in the eye, unblinking and as open and honest as you’ve ever seen him.

“Who do you like?”

You immediately avert your eyes.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” you mumble. “If it’s unrequited, it’s unrequited. Nothing I can do about it.”

He grits his teeth in frustration.

“We don’t have a lot of time, smartass! Either you tell me who it is and we do a last-ditch effort at getting them to like you, or we go to the hospital and get these petals removed, even if it means you can’t love again because god forbid I let you die on the floor of your kitchen while I’m here!”

You take a wary look at his face.

“You’re going to regret having asked,” you say dryly.

“Try me,” he retorts. “I might be disgusted by your choices, but if we can get them to like you and fix you up, I’m not going to regret it.”

You laugh, even though to him, it must not seem funny at all. But the laughing only spurs another attack of coughing, and he rubs your back in an effort to calm you. When you stop, he grabs your face with both hands.

“Okay, spit it out already!”

You smile, the corners of your lips tugging upward. You never wanted to confess like this, maybe had thought you never wanted to confess at all, but-

“It’s you, Kokichi.”

He’s completely caught by surprise, and his mouth falls open like an idiot–like a certain someone he liked to make fun of all the time. He catches himself, though, and quickly enough, his face shows resentment.

“Ha-ha, very funny. You’re literally about to die, and you’re still making jokes of bad taste?” he scoffs. “If I weren’t this nice, I would have thrown you under the bus and left you to die already.”

You shake your head gravely, and suddenly Kokichi realizes that there’s not a hint of humor on your face. Nothing of the kind that he was used to, at least.

“Wait. You’re serious,” he deadpans, and he searches your features for further confirmation.

You simply nod, and he finally sees the yearning in your eyes, the way you looked at him with affection, perhaps slightly exhausted, but persistent, and the pain that had expressed itself as coughing and brilliant yellow flower petals previously. He had gotten so used to looking for the lies in other people that he had failed to realize when the truth had finally presented itself before him.

He doesn’t know how to feel at first. His mind is running in circles, chasing his heart frantically, trying to catch up. He’s never known what the two of you were–friends? Good acquaintances? Something more?

But now that he’s re-evaluating the relationship the two of you share, he finds that there was a whole lot of affection for you in his pestering and pranks, a great love in the way he would incline you to spend time with him, and so much more in his actions and words that he had never knew held hints of liking you.

You smile in sour amusement.

“I told you you’d regret-”

But you were promptly interrupted by a less than graceful kiss smack dab on your lips, forceful and yet unimaginably brief.

“Don’t make assumptions on your own!” he scolds. He can’t tell if he’s angrier at you for not telling him sooner and clearing up the confusion for him or if he’s angrier at himself for not figuring it out sooner and keeping you from all this unnecessary pain.

Your eyebrows furrow. What were you registering right now? Something seemed to have met your mouth, but it couldn’t possibly have been what you thought, right?

Right?

“Geez,” Kokichi complains as he pulls you to your feet relatively effortlessly for a person of his stature. “You should’ve just told me earlier! Then you wouldn’t have gotten sick and there wouldn’t have been all this extra drama.”

You stumble as you stand like you do over your words.

“Wait… That means…”

He practically screams it in your ear.

“Yes! I like you, you dimwit!” He kisses your cheek, softly this time. “I don’t know how you didn’t figure it out after I kissed you and basically said I didn’t regret hearing that you liked me.”

He rolls his eyes, and you have to laugh at his melodrama. Typical Kokichi.

This time, no coughing ensued, and you leaned in, placing a kiss on the tip of his nose playfully.

“I love you, Kokichi.”

You can’t tell if it’s your willful imagination or not, but his cheeks seem to become slightly pinker, and he plants his hands on his hips.

“You think I can’t tell after you physically got lovesick over me and confessed to my face?” he snarks back, and you bite back laughter at his childish stubbornness.

Nothing in the world was more attractive to you than Kokichi at that moment–and you suspected for lifetimes to come.

[chyrstis]

Rest (and try to relax a little)

Adelaide is a challenge to write, but absolutely priceless to run around with in-game. Between her comments and Sharky’s I’m dying about 70-80% of the time, and wanted to write something light before finally reaching Jacob’s region.

Rating: T Word Count: 3.6K

Link to AO3!

___

Adelaide is not what the Deputy is expecting, not at all. And with the Whitetail Mountains within reach, she decides it’s better to kick back and rest for once.

She just doesn’t realize how much she’s going to need it.

______________

When Sharky mentioned having an Aunt Addie, Hana had to admit that she had a picture in her mind of your stereotypical TV or movie aunt. Liked wine, tried to get real with the kids while remaining cool as hell, and loved their fair share of gossip. This was the case for most of her friends, at least from what they’d tell her.

Her only aunt had been none of those things, engaging little with her until her mother had died, and only through support checks in the mail. So, when stories came up, she went with the movies instead. Built her up that way. It was a sillier, kinder picture, and one that stuck.

So, she went into this building up just what she thought an Aunty Addie could shape up to me, not expecting much different from that.

But then she met Adelaide, and while a few of those boxes did seem like the kind she’d tick, she blew most of the others out of the water when she grabbed an extra rifle and threatened to rip every last dick off of the Peggies left on her property.

It was a stance that was pretty tough to argue against, and once they cleared them out, Adelaide told them both that she would gladly put extra foot to ass for any other task that they needed her for.

That is, until she brought up Tulip.

Tulip, as it happened, was her helicopter. Her missing helicopter. Hana tried not to break out in a sweat as Adelaide covered the basics of what had happened, how she was precious, and how she wanted her back in one solid, functional piece.

The key words being one, solid, and functional. The odds were not looking good.

Prayer was not her thing. Not even remotely, but she did make a few pleas for mercy as she and Sharky proceeded to shoot down two helicopters in the pursuit of the third. And when she climbed into Adelaide’s pride and joy and stared at the controls, she muttered every reassurance in the book before taking to the air.

The true test came when they were coming in for a landing.

The last chopper she landed she broke the landing gear of. Somehow found a way to bust it while landing it outside of the jail with minimal effort.

The thumbs up Sharky gave her on the descent almost felt like a cruel joke, but she held her breath as they touched down. Squeezed her eyes shut when she really shouldn’t have.

But no alarms went off, Sharky didn’t start yelling for them to bail, and when she opened an eye to check, saw in the distance only the pleased face of one Adelaide Drubman.

The older woman rushed up to meet them, her style cues making Hana think of a saucier Rosie the Riveter, and loved her for it.

“My Tulip! Oh, my beautiful girl, tell me they didn’t hurt you.”

She rested her hands against the helicopter’s frame as the two hopped out, still cooing over it, and Hana tried not to sweat it out at the fact that she could’ve easily pitched the poor vehicle into the side of a mountain. Or could’ve flown in scratched to hell and smoking. Either would’ve been a recipe for hurt feelings all around.

Eventually Adelaide did step back, sighing happily as she took her in recovered ride. “I can’t thank you enough for doing this, and I hope you gave every last one of those goddamn Peggies hell.”

“Fo sho. We lit them up!”

Hana returned the fist-bump Sharky gave her, and found herself grinning like he was. “That, I can totally confirm, and then some.”

“Good. It’s less than what they deserve after royally fucking us after we played nice for the last few years, but it’ll do.” Adelaide set her hands on her hips, and sighed. “It’ll have to.”

The Marina had been shot to hell and back, though most of the buildings had held up to their assault, even with the smoking gunboat left burning by the pier.

“Holy hell. Good thing I was planning on remodeling the place, but…not this early. And not like this.”

She started dragging one of the pallets towards the garage, and Hana tailed Sharky as they ran over to help. Between the three of them, plus Xander and the others Adelaide had working on the marina, they were able to put most of the fires out, and set up watch rotations just in case any retaliation was incoming.

The Drubman Marina was right on the edge of Silver Lake, the largest body of water in the area.  If you wanted to take advantage of that, you could use that docking point to transport goods, people, and bliss to any of the Heralds’ chosen territories, and when Faith felt that loss, Adelaide was going to pay for it.

Hell, maybe she could make a call over to the Jail to see if the Sheriff could get a group of people up here. A proper squad for rotations with more firepower to back this up.

She’d still have to get Adelaide’s okay first, but the extra guns wouldn’t hurt, and if the Resistance could get a patrol going here or nearby, the added pushback could be the start to taking the Henbane back. It was an option, and one they badly needed.

“Where are you two headed now?” Adelaide asked, adjusting the dark pink bandana she’d tied around her hair. It’d been rough going earlier, but the older woman hardly showed it. “I wasn’t expecting a visit to begin with, and didn’t think this was going to turn into some kind of a whirlwind two-week holiday. I mean, I’ve got the supplies for it, but…”

“Up north to grab Hurkie.” Sharky jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, aiming towards the mountains in the distance. “Dep here wants to do something pretty damn great, and she wants us along for the ride.”

“Hurk? She wants you two teaming up?” She turned to Hana. “Honey, you do know what these boys are known for, right?”

Hana gave a small shrug, hooking her fingers in her beltloops. “I may have heard a few stories here and there.”

“I’m tempted to ask which, considering you still showed up here with my nephew in tow.”

“Mostly the Testy Festy, and I still can’t believe that’s an actual thing here, but that’s beside the point. I do need their expertise. Not to light giant flaming dicks in fields, per se, but they know their way around explosives, and we do need to light a pretty huge target up.”

“So, spill it. What’s getting blasted, and not in the fun, alcohol-fueled way?”

“Broseph.” Adelaide gave Sharky a look, and he spoke up to clarify. “Stone cold statue Broseph though. Cause if we had a shot at the real him, not gonna lie, I’d go for it. Use the same kind of stuff too.”

Adelaide started to chuckle, looking between the two, and shook her head. “Fucking directly with the Father himself. That sounds almost too good to be true. I thought you were thinking of weeding a few of those goals out, though?”

“Uh, yeah, Aunty Addie, I’ve been doing some more thinking about that.” Sharky made a face, but straightened his posture. “Now, stuff’s still tangled, and I know you said to get on being more proactive in how I want things to go in my life. Planning, short-term, and some long. Mostly short, but a goal’s a goal, man. And not all of them to do with blowing shit up, believe it or not.”

The smile Adelaide gave him, while genuine, had a wry tilt to it. “That’s sounding pretty damn promising.”

“It’s still about fifty-fifty,” he said, waving his hand back and forth. “Er, sixty-forty, if you count the stuff that’ll enable more of that, and if we’re talking Peggies, you really can’t do it halfway without taking a shot at them…”

“Now, hon, you don’t want to be too much trouble.” Adelaide aimed a curious glance at Hana, but her next words were entirely meant for Sharky. “I can respect the fact that you’re trying, but the deputy here might not like being that close to a walking roman candle, let alone one always on the verge of going off.”

“I’ve seen his file,” Hana blurted out, “and he’s already saved my ass a bunch, so it’s all water under the bridge, really.”

Both of Adelaide’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, hell’s bells!” she exclaimed with a laugh. “That’s something I never thought I’d hear from one of Earl’s. Water under the bridge? I’ll have to mention that to him the next time I see him.”

Because you totally have the power of handwavium, Han. That’s just what he hired you for.  

“Now, the Sheriff, he did give me some authority, but that’s not…I’m not here to-“ She stopped when she noticed both Adelaide’s amusement and Sharky’s hopeful glance, and groaned. “Shit.”

“I’m just teasing. You keep doing you, and long as you’re helping us, Earl’ll keep on loving the hell you’re raising. Mostly,” Adelaide conceded. “If he complains at you too much, though, just send him my way and I’ll set him straight.”

She had been staring at her feet as her face burned, but when Adelaide gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, Hana gave her a small smile.

“Now, I meant it earlier. Rest up and get your energy back, because you’re looking more than a little peaked, hon.  Like you’ve been running nonstop for three days straight. Tomorrow’s another day. You two can head out then, and hopefully those mountains’ll still be standing.  But I can’t say the same for the dickless wonder waiting up north,” she spat. “You see any sign of my ex-husband looking for Hurk, just dodge him. He’ll try to rope you into his run for Senate, and won’t take no for an answer.”

Noted. Double-noted, at that.

Hana looked down at herself, seeing the rumpled mess she’d been rolling around in, and was glad she didn’t have a mirror. “I look that good, huh?”

“You do, and I’m not buttering you up for nothing, but a shower always works wonders, so you let me know if and when you might want to borrow it. Though you might want to wait until…” She raised her eyes to the sky as she thought it over. “Oh, one to two hours from now before heading over. All of this adrenaline’s going to need a wonderful, limber outlet, and lucky for me I have one.”

Adelaide gave her a wink before walking away, her hips swaying all the while as she approached her house. Xander followed soon after once he caught both her direction – and the motion she used to beckon him to follow her -  leaving both Hana and Sharky staring after them.

“Wow,” she said, trying to hide a grin. “I was not prepared.”

Sharky cleared his throat, the sound a little strangled. “Yeah. She’s the kind of person that inspires poetry and shit. Lots of it.”

“Poetry, eh? I can see that. Well, what do you say we take her advice and actually stop for a bit after we move the last of this shit back?” She tapped a nearby crate with the heel of her boot. “Though if I stop, there’s a good chance I’m just going to keel over where I’m standing, leaving me with my ass up in the air. Promise to drag me over to a less embarrassing spot if I do?”

“Drag, carry, either way the offer’s still open,” he said, helping her to lift the crate up to take to the garage. “Just gotta warn me first.”

“I did. And consider the offer open on both ends.”

That got a laugh. “Seriously, Dep?”

“I will drag your ass wherever, whenever, if it needs dragging. Don’t laugh, but there was a small period of time when I was thinking about being a firefighter too, and did the test, so…I could lug you around,” she said, giving him a playful grin. “Or just sweep you right off of your feet. I’d be gentle, promise.”

The crate slipped, both of them swearing heavily as she was left to juggle it while Sharky grabbed for it, and it fell right on the toe of Hana’s right boot. She shot right back, holding her foot up as she clenched her arms in front of her, and if she did let out an embarrassing sound, she wasn’t about to admit to it.

“Aw, oh fuck!” Sharky’s hands flew up, reaching for her. “Sorry Dep, I just-“

Hana held up a finger, her lips pinched shut as she hopped in place.

“But-“

“Nope,” she choked out, her foot now moving to the throbbing stage. “Just, give me a sec. I’ll just…walk over there, sit down, and we won’t talk about this.”

“You sure you don’t..?”

“No go, bud,” she said, grimacing. “Just let it go.”

His face fell as she limped away, and she tried not to think about the kick to the feelings that was as well.

Finding a spot in the back, she sat herself down onto a pallet by a set of stacked crates, and closed her eyes as she rested her back against one of them. She flexed her foot, testing it as she propped it up, and was glad that nothing felt broken. It was going to smart for a while, but she could deal with it. 

If only she could just kick back for a few. And just…

Something touched her shoulder, giving her a gentle nudge. “Psst.”

“Hmm.”

It nudged her again, and this time she heard a voice. “Hey, chica? You still out?”

“Not out if I’m talking,” she grumbled. “Or actually understanding most of what you’re saying, Shark.”

She shifted, her hands reaching down to adjust how she was sitting only to feel something soft covering her legs.  She opened her eyes, taking in the flowery throw covering her, and looked up at Sharky. He had two beers with him. One that he was currently taking a long drink from, and the other he held out when he noticed her eying it.

“God, what time is it?” Everything was dark, short of the fluorescent lights still on in the garage.

“Moon’s up, sun’s down, and we’re all still sober, so there’s plenty of night left to go.”

Hana’s whole body ached when she shifted, moving to get up. The place and the position she’d picked hadn’t done her any favors, but her foot wasn’t hurting, and the spotty sleep did leave her feeling more alert. She was also starting to eyeball the beer dangling from Sharky’s hand. Judging by the way he was waving it in front of her, she wasn’t being subtle about it either.  

She took the beer, but didn’t open it. “You should’ve woken me up, man. I wanted to help clear more junk out, get in that shower, or do watch. Whichever.”

“Nah, you wanted to be left alone, and I didn’t wanna wake you up for nothing.” He shrugged and took another drink. “Beer-thirty, though? That’s something.”

“Hey, now. If you’re waking me up to get stuff done and then give me this,” she joked half-heartedly, “I don’t know how good of a help I’ll be mildly soused.”

“You can shoot a Peggie buzzed. I’ve shot a dozen while skating down one shithouse high after torching a bunch of their flowers. It was kinda cool, kinda weird watching three versions of myself kick ass like a movie within a movie, but semi-recommended, cause while there’s a chance it’ll kill you, you really can’t beat that shit.”

“So, I should be cool then?”

“Real fucking frosty.” His eyes lingered on her, before dropping down to her hands. “Uh, so you want help with that?”

Sharky pointed at her beer, the one she’d all but neglected.

“Sure,” she said, handing it over. He popped it open in record time, and Hana made sure to give him a small toast once he handed it back. “Cheers, and here’s to one hell of a long-ass day. Let it finally end.”

He snapped his fingers mid-drink, and swallowed the rest of the beer down with a cough. “Shit, almost forgot. Aunt Addie’s got food indoors, and I wanted to tell you about it before it disappears. She told me not to eat all of the chicken, but it’s been a while since I’ve had food that hasn’t come out of a wrapper or been three days past, and…you might wanna grab it while you can cause leftovers ain’t happening.”

Her stomach reacted accordingly, reminding her that like most people, she needed something solid to run on. Not just coffee, the occasional cigarette, and adrenaline spikes.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” she said, pushing off to sprint towards the main house.

Sharky ran off with her, sticking close even with her head-start. She barely managed to beat him through the door to Adelaide’s, slipping through the doorway only to crash into Xander once inside.

He did beat her to the punch on the last drumstick, however. And seeing as that was a solid trade for what went down earlier, she didn’t complain about it one bit.

---

“Reports are stating that due to drought-like conditions hitting the eastern side of the state, farmers are yielding a third less of their wheat crop, leading to concerns about making ends meet. Costs to improve these conditions through increased irrigation may be too high for them to afford-“

Hana fiddled with the radio in her lap, counting to five before switching it to the other channel.

The music that drifted through was somber and without words, and she could only stand to listen to it for close to a minute before switching back.

“Hospitals are unable to meet the needs of patients, having to turn them away due to being understaffed-“

“Jesus.” She sighed, and set the radio down.

Sitting outside alone on the docks, she’d been unable to sleep after all, opting for watch instead. It’d been quiet – too quiet, and she’d tried not to feel guilty about it – and found herself looking for a distraction before long. Something other than staring down at the dark water below, any skipped stones she’d chucked sinking after two hops.

It was easier to keep her mind blank that way, but it drifted like it always did. Started asking questions about tomorrow that she still didn’t know the answers to, and wasn’t sure she wanted asked to begin with. The news only fed on that, reminding her that outside of this place the world was still running. Still struggling, and though there was a chance they could all manage to save this, it was a drop in the bucket to the rest of the world.

But this was her world now. Had been the moment she took the job. It needed her to pull through this. To care. To keep on pushing, like the others were.

But damn, if the bruises and aches weren’t adding up. She’d scored plenty of new ones after picking up Sharky at the trailer park, joining the others dotting her upper arms. They hadn’t even fully faded yet, and earlier she’d taken the time to count each and every one while staring into the mirror in Adelaide’s bathroom.

Eight. Nine, if she counted the odd mark on her lower back. That was a new record, not that her old one had been hard to break.

She rubbed the back of her neck, idly trying to ease more of the tension out that had settled there, and eventually gave up. Rest really was a luxury, and yet here she was. Taking five on the cusp of heading north straight towards another Seed.

Jacob she could only recall from what she’d read in Dutch’s bunker, and the little she’d seen of him that night at the compound. The blurred photograph and the short breakdown covered only the basics, much like with John and Faith.

He was the one that armed and trained the soldiers of Eden’s Gate, pushed people to turn on each other on a dime, and up in the Whitetail Mountains there were an infinite number of trails to use. Places to hide, and wait, and bide your time if he happened to be the patient kind.

What would he do once she managed to piss him off?

She was going to find out either way, but the uncertainty chafed. Made her hair want to stand on end. It hadn’t taken much effort to get John to step in. Faith had taken a more subtle route, though maybe that had just been the bliss talking. Not her, just a projection that the drug had fed her.

She’d call Dutch in the morning. He always had an ear to the ground, and had to have heard more. Maybe even heard something from up north that she wasn’t privy to yet. What would it hurt?

The rest was up to her. Well, Sharky and her…and Hurk, once they managed to get to him. It was going to turn into a proper party after that, and Jacob would surely come calling then.

The news ended after two more reports, switching to a tune that felt better suited to an old black and white romance flick. One where the two leads were so swept up in each other that little else mattered. It was fun to think about for a few seconds as she listened, trying to picture it.

Hana chucked one last rock far out across the water, watching as it skipped across the surface once, before disappearing.

And as the song went on, she couldn’t help humming along to it.

And I do, and I do.

There is no one else, only you.

Only you, bring me joy, my sweet lover boy.

[rkkyul]

운명을 찾아낸 둘이니까 190725 MGA SEASON 5 + EPISODE FIVE +  #5050 FEATURING : CHOI MINHO & JEON HEEJIN ⟨ ━━ ❀ ° PART ONE: PERFORMANCE, BBOOM BBOOM + DNA ( 0:00 - 1:55 ) ⟩

her mouth is full of chunks of noodles but she speaks anyway, hand raised to her mouth in an attempt to make the action appear a little less nasty than it actually was. “honestly - i don’t mind.” her pink hair waves with the rapid shaking of her head - adding on to the fact that they were all practically saying the same thing. “dancing, singing, it’s whatever! just don’t make me rap, please?” and that was a personal plea.

an invitation from minho brought the trio to a restaurant that kyulkyung was just so in love with. they gathered in hopes of getting to know one another better and figure out exactly what they would be doing the rest of the week. and so far, this was going better than the woman could’ve hoped for. 

when her pairing was once again announced first, it was hard to contain her excitement. this week she had truly hit the jackpot. 

“i’ve danced this entire time, i’m sure everyone’s bored with it.” she jokes, pausing to take a sip of water amidst her devouring of her noodles. this certainly wasn’t her usual burger after thursday filming, but it did not disappoint. “i can sing, dance, do both!! it’s okay!” 

in all honesty, she worried a bit about her performances on the show. were they becoming too repetitive? kyulkyung had yet to showcase any singing skill the entirety of her time on the show ( other than her audition ), and the fact made her nervous. sure, she was a good dancer, but wasn’t she more than that?

the woman kept these worries to herself, wanting to do what would be best for everyone rather than just herself. advancing was crucial for the whole team, not just two of them, and that involved some leniency when it came to selecting a performance. everyone needed to be comfortable, willing to share the spotlight equally and lucky for them, that was exactly the case.

                                                                       ❀

kyulkyung admittedly was not a morning person. usually bright and peppy, the woman could barely manage to crack a genuine smile when sleep still laced every nerve and muscle in her body. it was a tiny bit easier when she was walking with heejin - her hair messily tied up into a bun and face bare despite the cameras that awaited them in sphere’s practice room.

the thought of practicing in a company practice room was exciting to her, but the woman managed to keep her cool. she didn’t know much about many kpop idols, but knowing that practicing in these rooms meant that they were that much closer to the end was thrilling. it was hard to believe that they were going into episode five - that she was going into episode five.

she auditioned without worries, not thinking of how far she could actually make it and yet here she was - walking into a sphere practice room to prepare for the fifth episode’s performance, hopes high and soaring as wild as ever.

the pair are expecting minho to meet them at the practice room, but she is NOT expecting the fear that overcomes her when she sees something unexpectedly colorful and tall sitting ominously in the center of the room. kyulkyung pauses midstep - door pressed firmly against her palm and mouth open in shock as she stares at the... clown wig?

the woman looks around before narrowing her eyes at the mirror, biting down on her lip but unable to stop the smile that spreads across her lips when minho’s reflection stares back at her.

“heejin... should we be worried?” she whispers to the other girl, leaning a bit closer to her partner but eyes fixated on the clown wig that rests atop minho’s head.

“just one question.” she calls out into the room, “how long have you been sitting there like that?”

                                                                       ❀

practice for episode five was vastly different than the past week’s. kyulkyung was filled with worry while the environment that surrounded her this week proved to be vastly different. alongside having a trio that just genuinely got along and decided on their roles easily, the other group that shared the room with them made the experience that much more enjoyable. from facetiming suwoong from kyungsoo’s phone to eating the quiche he brought it, it was hard for the woman to have any type of worry.

not to mention changbin who just had to flatter her and boost her ego a thousand times over. “you’re one of the best dancers here!” and she just couldn’t help but hug him.

the thought crossed her mind at least once, maybe she was just having too much fun. but she just couldn’t help it.

the light-hearted nature of their performance made it easy to enjoy, but exciting to watch, the woman loved piecing it together, laughing over their mistakes but growing confident in their teamwork.

“oh my god, minho - heejin now!” kyulkyung gestured wildly to the younger girl who stood a wreck. her hair askew, flying in all directions because of the headgear that framed her eyes.”we have to protect her image! hurry!!” she was laughing but moving quickly to stick her face in front of the camera - making dumb faces at the lenses as minho took care of heejin’s mess. their practices involved a lot of this, a lot of laughs and food but also a lot of excitement.

she had done fun routines before, but none like this. it was easy to smile, genuine movements able to create an undeniably alluring performance. 

and she couldn’t wait to show it.

                                                                      ❀

when filming came around, the woman couldn’t help the anticipation leading up to their stage. it was hard to sit still, becoming more thankful that they were the first trio to perform as she couldn’t imagine waiting much longer. similar to last week, kyulkyung hoped they could introduce episode five in a good way - set that bar high and expectations wild for the remained of the episode. performing first meant not having the pressure of following up a good stage and she’s sure that at this point in the competition, everything would be a good one.

the mashup they selected complemented each other nicely, the stage they formulated to bring fourth a lighthearted atmosphere which reflected the past week perfectly. “we didn’t forget the goggles and the controller did we?” she asks, hopeful eyes met with reassurance that they would do just fine. 

“hello! we are the royal court!” the trio greeted, introducing episode five with bright eyes and a playful atmosphere. straightening out the colorful stripes decorating her crop top, kyulkyung pulls at the fabric - shifting her weight on her feet as she waits to introduce herself. she holds her head high and keeps her shimmering lips pulled into a smile when she introduces herself, switching to chinese to begin her introduction per usual. “hello! number 5050, zhou jieqiong here! we prepared something a bit more fun to watch this week, hope you like it!”

a stool is sat center stage while kyulkyung and minho move to their respective ends of the stage - the pair at the end of opposite runways while heejin moves to the center one. the trio had planned this out vigorously, coming up with a cute scenario for their performance that would certainly be entertaining to follow along. it isn’t hard to shift into the atmosphere of their routine, a naturally bubbly woman living for a song and performance as creative as theirs.

this week was vastly different than what she had shown with suwoong last week, and kyulkyung loved keeping everyone on their toes. what side of her would she show next? the mgas proved to be an excellent place for her to experiment the different sides of her dancing persona, the perfect platform to receive feedback and grow based on that. while last week seemed to have some mixed reviews, she cannot wait to show the her that she felt most comfortable in. 

heejin’s walks towards the stool where their makeshift VR headset rests along with a controller, the “announcer’s” voice following shortly after. 

JEON HEEJIN, SELECT A SONG TO CONTINUE

and so their performance begins - the song mashup turning up as kyulkyung and minho begin to slowly move up and down as characters do in the selection menu. she attempts a cute pose to match her song, bboom bboom’s bubbly lyrics and music bringing forth the darling in her.

“what are you doing? that’s my song that’s playing.” she speaks out, throwing on a pout and crossing her arms as she stares across the runway at minho, who counters with a no, it’s my song. she chose yours last time! before they’re rushing towards center stage.

지금 내 눈엔 눈엔 눈엔 네 어깨 무릎 발 (oh) 숨이 탁 막힐 것 같아 난 너만 보면

there were a lot of new experiences for kyulkyung this week. alongside relying on acting a bit more this week and usage of props, the woman was finally showcasing her singing on the show. the fact was exciting, but at the same time she couldn’t help but fear the reactions. she wasn’t a bad singer by any means, and most of her vocals this week were prerecorded anyways, but still, what if it’s worse than what everyone was expecting? 

the thought worried her, but in all honesty, she didn’t care. the woman wasn’t a singer by any means; dancing was her overall best talent and the skill she always relied most on. but she had read comments of wanting something different and new besides all the dancing and what better way to show it? this week she was accompanied by heejin who arguable had one of the best voices on the show and minho who not only had a decent voice but knew how to perform with it as well. in all honesty, she had a bit of an advantage this week learning from them ( especially considering the fact that she was in no way embarrassed to ask for help ).

숨이 콱 막힐 것 같아 넌 

the concept they went with was a bit easier skill wise than what she was used to, but was definitely more on the creative side. it was performances like this that she enjoyed best - loving being able to follow along with a story and watch the talent that matched it. heejin was playing a video game and kyulkyung and minho were the characters too busy fighting for her attention, wanting to be picked so they were constantly competing with one another. it was a bit ironic given their current situation, but nonetheless it was fun to perform.

because we’ve found our destiny  -  the two songs link up here, the two dancers pulling heejin into the game and taking her goggles and controller from her. up until this point, the other girl had been singing, contemplating her choice between minho and kyulkyung as they danced for her attention. as they tug her closer, she manages to pull the younger girl closer to her side - pushing minho out of the way and getting her to dance to bboom bboom with her.

give it to you my 눈눈눈눈눈눈 눈빛 쏟아지는 my 터터터터터터 터치

하나뿐인 my 럽럽럽럽럽 my luver 내 머리���터 뿜뿜 

내 발끝까지 뿜뿜 뿜뿜 어

the two girls’ voices blend so well together, the soft tones complementing the song nicely as they dance together. kyulkyung’s character tries her best to make heejin forgot about minho and his stupid song because hers is so much better ( and definitely more fun ). this is the part where kyulkyung’s live vocals can finally be heard, not wanting to push it too much this week and instead relying more on prerecorded vocals for the characters - allowing heejin to take that spotlight but also giving her a chance to dance when they all come together.

이 모든 건 우연이 아니니까

minho manages to sneak up on the dancing pair, coming back into the frame as he pushes kyulkyung out of the way to begin dancing with heejin. at first, kyulkyung appears shocked but she just steps to the side and watches until the other girl notices minho had taken her place. the two meet eyes, confused and bewildered before they shrug. and finally the trio begins to dance together, letting that competition die and slowly bring their performance to an end.

just feel it 뿜뿜 네 앞에서 난 뿜뿜 네게 줄게 뿜뿜 뿜뿜 어( 운명을 찾아낸 둘이니까, DNA )

give it to you my 눈눈눈눈눈눈 눈빛 쏟아지는 my 터터터터터터 터치

하나뿐인 My 럽럽럽럽럽 my luver 내 머리부터 뿜뿜 

내 발끝까지 뿜뿜 뿜뿜 어

their performance ends and kyulkyung is catching her breath, smiling as always and feeling like she’s on top of the world. the adrenaline from their routine is slowly simmering down, but all she can think about is the satisfaction of a fun performance.

[lexilikesthings]

Heritage: Part 6

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Bull was back at Skyhold. And so was Stitches. Iron Bull listened to Stitches report of what he learned, nodding and taking mental notes as he went along, asking for the occasional clarification. Eventually, he was pretty sure he had the pieces he needed to complete the puzzle. Or at least to come close.

“Do I get to ask what this is about yet, ser?” Stitches asked with a glance that suggested he already had a hunch.

“Nope.”

“Very well. I’m off.”

--

He sat in his quarters, staring at what he’d written. Out of reflex and perhaps a desire to keep the matter private, he had written everything down in coded qunlat. However, now he had to decide what to do with this knowledge. The Inquisitor’s mood had been on the upside lately, they were closing in on Samson, destroying red lyrium operations left and right, and fade rifts were being closed all over. He knew she would want to know about this. He just hated that he’d have to be the one to tell her. He stuck the note in his back pocket and headed out of Herald’s Rest.

As luck would have it, Adaar was headed across the courtyard as Bull left the tavern. She smiled and waved, changing her course to greet him.

“Good to see you, Bull,” she said.

“Hey, Boss, you got a second to talk?”

Her head tilted. “Sure, what’s up?”

“Yeah, no, I was hoping for a more private discussion.”

Bull saw a glint in her eye that said she wanted to make a joke, but he wasn’t exactly trying to hide the dread he was feeling about this conversation, and she could tell it wasn’t the time.

“Sure...” Adaar turned and led him back across the grounds.

Bull could feel the note burning a hole in his pocket, practically weighing him down as he climbed the thrice damned stairs to the Inquisitor’s quarters. It was still early in the day, the sunlight hadn’t made its way through the west facing windows yet, and the lack of rays brought a slight chill to the room.

The Inquisitor leaned against her desk and crossed her arms, almost defensively. “So. What did you need to talk about?”

Bull sat on the corner of her bed and looked at her, studied her before he responded. He wanted to know how she’d react when he told her. “I investigated your mom’s death.”

Her whole demeanor changed. Her shoulders, previously square and tense, sagged as her whole posture seemed to deflate.

“Why would you... do that?” She seemed genuinely confused. At that moment Bull began to wonder if he should have done it at all, but he had and there was no changing that.

“Something didn’t feel right about it.”

“Yeah, no shit, Bull, my mother was burned to death in her home! Nothing about it was right!” She wasn’t leaning against the desk anymore, now she was leaning forward, furious and sad.

“That’s not what I mean-”

“Why would you do this? How long ago did you this? Why didn’t you tell me about it sooner?” With every question she took a step closer to him, angry tears building.

Bull sighed. “You know, I really hate being interrupted.” He stood up. “I didn’t want to tell you if there was nothing to tell.”

“I didn’t authorize this! I should have known before you even sent anyone out!” She took another step forward and jabbed a finger into his chest. “Dammit, Bull, you don’t get to do whatever you want, just because I- Because-” She didn’t seem to want to finish the sentence.

Bull grabbed her arm, and when her other arm came up to shove him away, he grabbed that one too. “Calm down. If you don’t calm down, I can’t tell you what I found out.”

Adaar shook her head, face tilted down so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “I don’t need to know- I don’t want to know.” She struggled against his grip.

“Yes, you do. Now take a deep breath.”

A few heavy moments passed where Adaar tried to vainly pull free of his grip before surrendering. She took a few shaky breaths and then a good solid one. “Okay.”

Bull gave a sigh of relief. “Okay.” he let her go and slowly guided her to sit on the bed. He stayed standing.

“I sent one of my guys to check out your village and ask around. I guess a lot of people had a lot to say about it, because he said it didn’t take long.” The Inquisitor wasn’t making eye contact. He crossed his arms. “I guess a few months beforehand, a guy, some merchant or trader passing through, said he saw a demon in the woods.” Adaar clenched her jaw. “No one paid him much mind. Then another traveler came through asking if the woods were haunted. A few people started asking questions, trying to get it investigated.” Bull paused, watching the Inquisitor attempt to keep her breathing regular. “Obviously the villagers new about your mom and she helped them out from time to time with stuff, but I guess the rumors just kept piling up until she went into town one day.” Adaar looked up. Bull almost wished she hadn’t. There was such pure curious sorrow etched onto her face. He cleared his throat and continued. “There were some travelers who saw her and whispered to each other and got shit rolling. Apparently there’s some argument over who threw it, but she got hit with some overripe produce. I guess the mob mentality took over at that point, shit started flying and they ran her out of town.”

Adaar stood up.

Bull held out his hands preemptively to calm her. “Wait.”

“Give me a second.” she stalked over to her desk. Paused. Then swept everything off the top with a guttural scream, proceeding to kick unsuspecting books and inkwells across the room. The rug was ruined. Josephine would likely be upset about that, Bull mused. 

“Hey...” He let the syllable hang in the air for a few moments, letting Adaar catch her breath. Her fists were clenched at her side and Bull really didn’t want to test if he could dodge them, so he stayed back. She was panting, deep heavy pants that were more like a breathing exercise than anything to do with exertion.

But then she walked back and sat right back down on her bed, ignoring the growing stench of the ink soaking into the floor. “Go on, then.” She was looking him in the eye now, sadness replaced by a sharp fury. He sighed.

“It’s not a good ending, but you know that already. The travelers and a good chunk of the townsfolk got some makeshift weapons together and went out after her later. Few of them said they just wanted her to leave, that they didn’t actually wanna hurt her.” Adaar barked out a humorless laugh. “Everybody’s pointing fingers at everyone else, but I think there might be an outside influence here.”

She didn’t respond at first. “What are you driving at, Bull?”

“I think someone might have set it up.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m serious,” he insisted.

“No you’re fucking not.” Adaar stood again and strode past Bull towards the balcony. He thought for a moment about grabbing her by the arm, stopping her, but figured it would be better to let her go. She didn’t actually go out onto the balcony, just stood in the doorway. “Not everything is a big conspiracy, Bull.” She turned to face him, bracing herself on the door frame with both hands. “Sometimes humans are just shitty.”

“Yeah,” Bull admitted. “But I’m thinking maybe this time it was a specific human.”

Adaar gave a huff. “And I suppose you’ve looked into that as well?”

“Actually, no, I haven’t.” He took a few cautious steps toward her. “I wanted to tell you what I had so far.”

“Good. Because you’re dropping this. Right now.” Adaar straightened up, her height nearly matching Bull’s. He wasn’t used to someone being able to look him in the eye without craning their neck. “I’m giving you an order, Iron Bull. Do not pursue this any further.”

Bull was surprised. He hadn’t expected a flat out cease and desist. “Boss, if there’s someone out there targeting people your close to-”

“I’m the Inquisitor, Bull. It comes with the territory.” Her tone was cold and her eyes practically dripped with venom. It made the hair on the back of Bull’s neck stand up. “Now, if you’re going to keep calling me Boss, I suggest you listen to what I’ve told you.” With that, she turned sharply to face her desk, seeming to forget the mess she’d made of it only moments ago. She stood there, still as the mountains outside. 

Bull gave an exasperated sigh through his nostrils. “I get that you’re mad. I won’t go any deeper into this.”

“If you wanted to dig into my past that badly, you could have just asked me,” Adaar said, quietly this time. Bull opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, she continued. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some letters to write,” and then, quieter, “and a floor to clean.”

Bull nodded, more to himself since she still wasn’t facing him. He left her quarters and didn’t stop until he was in his own. Something about the tavern didn’t seem like the right place to be just then. He pulled the note out of his back pocket and regarded it for a few minutes before, ultimately, slowly burning it over a candle until the blackened edges singed his fingertips.

[lilyheardjamesfall]

In Noctem

The rain lashed against the dark windows as a clap of lightning illuminated the room for a split second. Lily loved thunderstorms at Hogwarts, the way that the candlelight shuddered at claps of thunder, and the sound of rain torrenting on the large stones that built up the castle as water sluiced down the clear windowpanes. The effect was both cozy and lonesome. And Lily loved to bask in feelings of melancholy and dreariness. Especially since the war had started and the news stories in the Prophet were becoming increasingly grim, Lily felt herself sinking and sliding into depression and worry. Not too noticeable at first, the despair crept up on her as she read a new story every day of the gruesome things happening to Muggles and Muggle-borns outside the sturdy castle walls, in a world that Lily believed was better than this. When she first learned about the wizarding world, she had naively hoped that it would be more equal, more just. After all, if everyone had magic capabilities regardless of race, class, or gender, it would surely lead to a more egalitarian society. But Lily had learned that the Wizarding World was just as complex and unfair as the Muggle world, with deep seeds of tension imbedded in things as simple as which Hogwarts House you were sorted into.

Lily shook herself out of her reverie. She had come to this particular spot in the Common Room because it was secluded, and would allow her to enjoy the thunderstorm in peace, with a mug of tea. She was sitting on a windowseat tucked into a far corner of the Common Room, the curtains half drawn, a flimsy protective shell around her, a cocoon protecting her from the worries and anxieties of the life that took place outside. Here she was just Lily, existing at the same time as the storm that was whipping up the Lake outside. Her thoughts wandered to more pleasant things, to the upcoming Hogsmeade trip, the fall colors that had made Hogwarts even more resplendent than usual, her recent perfect marks in Potions that left her glowing, her surprising ease with the Head Boy, Potter. Even if she had started calling him James to herself for a while now. If Lily was being honest with herself, she was secretly extremely pleased at the way that the two of them worked together. Ever since the unspeakable incident fifth year, Lily had to admit that James had done his best to straighten himself out. He and the Marauders were still incorrigible pranksters, but James had buckled down on harmless fun as opposed to heightening tensions with the Slytherins. When Lily had commented on it last year, he just got a faraway look on his face and muttered something about the War, and the necessity to keep everyone lighthearted but not to belittle anyone. And Lily had looked at him since with a different set of eyes.

It hadn’t been hard to befriend him, not since he started genuinely caring for others instead of his image. He had actually come up with an idea to provide support groups and counselling to Muggleborns and those who had lost family members in the war, and he had approached her first about it. When she pushed her animosity to the side, they had proposed the idea to McGonagall, who was somewhat unbalanced by James’ idea, and the sight of James and Lily agreeing on something, but agreed to it speedily before shooing them out of her office, a little tearily. Within a week, the support groups were up and running and James took none of the credit for it, though it had been a brilliant idea. That was one of the cataclysmic moments between the two of them, that pushed them towards friendship last year. And though Lily’s friends teased her about it in the beginning and the school buzzed at the sight of Lily and James eating breakfast together in the Great Hall occasionally, it soon became normal to see the two of them together with a combination of their friends or by themselves. And Lily was glad that the speculation had died down and they were left to their own devices in terms of figuring out this new and budding friendship between them. Though the rumors started again briefly when they had both showed up at Platform 9 ¾ with Head Boy and Girl badges, the school moved on to more titillating gossip soon enough. Lily would be lying if she didn’t admit that initially she had some misgivings about James’ new appointment as a rule-maker as opposed to a rule-breaker. She was especially unsure where it concerned Sirius Black, who was dangerously inspired whenever he was bored, something that happened all too often for comfort. As the school year approached, she felt nervous that whatever fragile bonds had begun to form between them would be ruined by Potter’s inability to keep his mischievousness in line, but James came back to the school a changed person.

Lily never knew what turned the switch in James, but ever since their first Head’s meeting on the Hogwarts Express, she sensed immediately the seriousness about him. People at school had all sorts of theories, but Lily suspected that it had to do with the War. Goodness knows she’d changed since fifth year as things quickly went downhill and everyone examined where their own values and loyalties lay. And though she was increasingly curious about the smallest things when it came to James, she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. James had almost put more work than herself into Head Duties, and Lily wasn’t about to push too much into James’ newfound vulnerability and mess that up.

Lily leaned her head back against the rough stone behind her, closing her eyes as another rumble of thunder reverberated through the windowpane next to her. She wrapped her hands more tightly around her warm tea, and tried to push all of these introspective examinations aside.

“You mind if I sit with you?” a voice interrupted her blissful connection to the thunderstorm. Lily already recognized that voice before she opened her eyes. James stood before her, his hair tousled as usual, his glasses sliding down his nose and looking more put together than usual, though his hazel eyes betrayed how exhausted he truly was. That James Potter was good at putting up a front, Lily knew. He always had been.

“I was in the middle of something, Potter.”

��I know. You were enjoying the thunderstorm in your spot as usual. I’m not trying to make you be sociable. I just also want to enjoy the thunderstorm and all of the window seats are taken by people who look like they’re in the middle of something or would blather to me. I’d rather sit in the quiet.” Lily scanned his face. He was being earnest, empty-handed and even more tired than he had appeared at first glance. Lily considered it briefly. She really wanted to enjoy the thunderstorm alone, but it seemed that James would stay quiet just as he seemed to know that she loved to curl up and watch thunderstorms at Hogwarts, a fact that she didn’t think was that apparent, but must have been for Potter to pick it up.

She made up her mind. “You can sit with me, but if you disrupt my vibe, I will kick you out.” James put up his hands, as if acquiescing and sat on the seat next to her, his back on the opposite wall, and put his feet up, his long legs stretching so that his feet were close to her own waist. He remained quiet, but his eyes examined her intensely, and Lily felt like she was missing a vital piece of information. It only lasted a moment, because he quickly turned his attention from her to the thunderstorm.

Lily found it a little hard at first to forget that James was beside her and just enjoy the rain hitting the window. Though James wasn’t being distracting on purpose, he was nevertheless distracting. Lily’s eyes kept sneaking to his face, wondering what he was thinking and why he chose to spend his precious time sitting in silence with her rather than with his friends, who would no doubt put him in a better mood, help him forget his stress and exhaustion. His profile seemed to belong on an ancient coin, strong with a clear jawline and a delicate nose. The lighting flashes illuminated his features briefly enough for Lily to admire the way that his glasses were framed by expressive eyebrows. It seemed only yesterday that James was a slightly chubby boy with a penchant for trouble, and now for the first time, Lily realized that it was a mansitting across from her, with eyes set towards the future and a 5 o’clock shadow.

There was something about his presence that thrilled her. Whether it was the slight scent of parchment and the outdoors that Lily always associated with James, or the fact that they were spending time together without talking about the million things that they had to do, it was nice to just be with James. She felt herself relaxing, and less distracted by his presence once she stopped examining it’s meaning and let herself lean into it. It was admittedly nice to face the rage of nature with someone next to her. She lost track of time as she steadily worked her way through her mug of tea and let the pitter patter of rain lull her soul back into a more settled and peacefully restored state.

Eventually the thunderstorm calmed to a light rain, the dark and ominous clouds giving way to smaller clouds and the occasional glimpse of the silvery moon, reflecting on the Lake and the glowing windows of the castle. Lily felt herself on the edge of something infinite, a hope blooming in her chest at the beauty that lay before her. Something deep within herself believed that everything would turn out okay, that she would be okay. She turned to James in this moment of surety, wanting to share in this secret depth she had discovered. James’ head was tilted back, and his eyes were closed. He had fallen asleep. Lily had no idea how long they’d been there, or how long he had been asleep.

She took him in. She didn’t think that she had ever seen James Potter asleep, but she also couldn’t remember ever registering it as anything noteworthy. His face was relaxed in a way she had never seen it before. He usually had a grin playing around his mouth or a twinkle in his eye. Even as the War progressed and he seemed increasingly serious and tired, he had always had an electric aura around him; he was always in motion, always so alive. It was odd to see him like this, unguarded, vulnerable, still. It left Lily feeling slightly unsettled, like at any moment he would pop up and pretend it had all been a prank. Still, she couldn’t help but study him even more intently, noting that he had a nicely shaped mouth, and that he had unusually long eyelashes. His tie was askew, and his shirtsleeves rolled up so that she could see his darkly muscled forearms and his nimble fingers seemed unbelievably immobile. He must have been quite exhausted to just conk out like that. Lily’s eyes snapped back to his face, noting the tiredness around his eyes and was surprised to feel a softening in her heart.

She inched closer to him, and before she knew what she was doing, she pushed his hair back from his forehead, tenderly. She drew her hand back quickly, as if burned. What was she doing?This was James Potter, for Godric’s sake. She quickly checked around the Common Room to see if anyone saw, but it was mostly deserted. Those who remained were too absorbed in their schoolwork to notice what had happened, with only the goal of reaching their bed lingering in their minds.

Lily turned her attention back to James. Was it possible that along the way she had started to harbor feelings for this incredibly complex mix of man and prankster? That would be incredibly ironic considering how long he had chased her and how adamantly dead-set she was against his romantic inclinations. Lily had always thought that James had pursued her more out of an understanding of how annoying it had been to her, rather than any sort of real feeling that might have been there. And she had never questioned that line of reasoning until now. What would they be like as a couple? They worked well as a team, of that there was no doubt. And both of them had come a long way since Fifth Year. James had grown into responsibilities and his shoulders. Lily had grown out of girlish fantasies of Snape’s loyalties and wonder at the Wizarding World. So the thought remained – what if?

Lily shook herself. There was no need to read love stories into completely mundane storylines, she reminded herself sternly. You don’t even know if he was being sincere, she told herself. Besides, you like him better since he has fallen out of love with you. Still, the question had been asked, and if Lily hated anything it was not knowing the answer to a question. Taking ahold of herself sternly, she told herself that this was a result of spending too much time daydreaming with the rain, James’ presence, and lack of sleep. There was no use in continuing that train of thought.

“I can practically hear the wheels in your head turning,” James’ said sardonically, causing Lily to jump in surprise and drop her empty mug with a clunk. Thankfully it did not break, but that didn’t stop Lily from sending James a dirty look. She said nothing, however, suddenly at a loss for words, embarrassed at being caught thinking of James by that very person. “I get it. Thunderstorms always make me think too much.” James looked out over the grounds, and Lily found herself curious. She’d never thought of James as the pensive kind.

“What do you think about?”

James glanced at her, somewhat surprised and also calculating. Lily tried to communicate with her eyes that she seriously wanted to know and that she was not digging for information to use as fodder for later teasing. “Well, there isn’t a shortage of things to think about. Mostly about the War, what I’m going to do after school, worrying about my family and the like.” He said it almost nonchalantly, but Lily saw the underlying nervousness in his fidgeting hands and the way he was studiously looking away from her.

“I know what you mean. It seems like I have a lot of dark thoughts lately, and thunderstorms are perfect times for wallowing in the nebulousness of the future and your own mind.”

James laughed, “That’s very poetic of you, Lily.” Lily blushed at the use of her first name, though she couldn’t name why. A silence fell between them. It was companiable, but Lily still found herself searching for something to say that wouldn’t betray her thoughts a few moments earlier. “Do you worry about your family? It must be hard being here and knowing what’s happening to Muggleborns and feel kind of powerless.”

Lily looked at James in surprise. “What makes you think that?”

“I’m not heartless, Lily. Besides, I worry about my own family, and they’re Purebloods. So I can only imagine that it’s difficult for you too. If you don’t want to talk about it I get it, but I figured I’d ask.”

“My family doesn’t know what’s going on. I haven’t told them anything because I don’t want them to worry. I keep telling myself that it shouldn’t matter, because You-Know-Who doesn’t even know who I am or who my family is, but of course I still worry and I feel guilty for not telling them, for not warning them. At the same time I want to shield them, and I feel like they’d not want me at Hogwarts if they knew the truth of it.” She met James’ eyes, and felt she saw a glimmer of understanding pass between them.

“Even though Hogwarts is the safest place to be.” James added nodding sagely. “That’s hard Lils. But I feel like you’re making the right call. Even if you tell them, there’s nothing that they could do, and it might be better if they don’t know. Would make them less of targets.”

“It is nice when I go home, and don’t have to hear about the war for a few weeks,” Lily admitted. “But aren’t you worried about your parents? They’ve been pretty outspoken against You-Know-Who. They do probably have targets on their backs.”

“They would have anyway,” James said grimly. They’ve been working in the ministry towards better relationships with the Muggles for over twenty years now. Either way it’s clear they’re not on his side, and my dad says he reckons he’d rather be killed because he did something worth dying for.” James’ voice cracked a little over this last part, but both of them knew that it was true, recognized the power behind his words.

“So, what do you want to do after Hogwarts?” Lily asked, trying to steer the conversation to less emotionally fraught subjects. She found herself surprised that she didn’t already know what James wanted to do after school. But then again, they had never really talked about the future, and their friendship, though solid, seemed to center more around school and mutual friends rather than deep and emotional windowseat confessions. Though that appeared to be changing.

“Well, I always wanted to be a professional Quidditch player.” James said lightly.

“No surprise there. Heavens knows you are certainly good enough.”

“Why Evans, I had no idea that you paid such close attention to my Quidditch skills.”

“They are a little hard to miss, Potter.”

“Well, as flattering as that is, I think I’m going to be an Auror. With things going the way they are, the Ministry needs all the help it can get, and in all honesty I agree with my dad. Might as well be killed fighting than killed in the crossfire. There are more things at stake here than the Quidditch World Cup.”

Lily knew he was trying to be light about mentioning his possible death, but the very thought of James Potter fighting and dying in this war, well, Lily wasn’t quite sure what the feelings stirring inside of her meant. “Every time I think about what happens after school, I just see the reality of war tearing us all apart. This time next year, some of us could already be dead. There are people dying right now, and it seems so helpless to just be here studying and writing essays when people are giving up their lives.” Lily couldn’t continue. She was fighting back tears.

“Hey, Lily, hey,” James said softly, clasping her hand in his and inching closer. “It’s okay. We all feel a little helpless right now.” James pulled her close, arms around her shoulder, giving her a hug. He didn’t let go, and she didn’t make any move to dislodge him, just buried her head in his chest and let herself feel the despair and stress that had been clawing at her, letting the tears flow out of her at last. Because for some reason she didn’t feel the need to appear strong for James Potter, this brave and beautiful boy who was willing to sacrifice not only his dreams but his life for this war. For people like her. James was murmuring words and stroking her hair and she couldn’t hear what they were, but she appreciated them none the less. As her tears slowed, Lily became increasingly aware of the hardness of James’ chest, the warmth of his skin, the piney scent that surrounded her. She blushed and pulled away, wiping her face with her sleeve. She was aware that she was probably a blotchy mess right now, and she felt a timidity around James that she hadn’t felt for a long time. James watched her, his hazel eyes inscrutable.

“Sorry,” she sniffled. It was hard to keep James’ gaze. “It’s just been a lot recently. I didn’t mean to ruin your night by having you talk about your parents and the war and then cry all over you.”

James smiled softly, a smile that transformed his face. A genuine smile that radiated from his very being, and all of a sudden, Lily felt the timidity leave her, replaced by the soft beating of her heart. “It’s okay Lily. I don’t mind. Like I said we all feel a little helpless right now, and it’s important to be here for each other. But I hope you know that our studying isn’t useless. The better we do here, the more chance we have of fighting back against him, of ending this war.”

Lily smiled. “Thanks James. I know you’re right. I just feel frustrated sometimes. But if you ever need to cry all over me, you know where you can find me at the next thunderstorm.”

They both huffed laughs, and just like that the moment was broken. James stood up, stretching and Lily determinedly did not watch the way his shirt inched up to reveal a chiseled hipbone. He straightened himself up, adjusting his tie and running a hand through his hair as he rolled his neck, moaning at the crick that was starting to form from his ill-advised nap against the castle wall. Lily felt a thousand words rush to her mouth but kept silent. “I should get to bed before I fall asleep in another uncomfortable position. Do try and get some sleep Evans.” 

Lily tried not to be disappointed at the reversion back to their last names. “I will. Goodnight, Potter.” James nodded, and for a moment he looked as if he wanted to say something else, his hazel eyes burning into hers. But then the moment was gone and he was retreating across the Common Room.

Lily watched him leave, feeling a tenderness growing inside her heart. She groaned as she let her head fall back on the wall with a thump. She was fucked. FanFiction - AO3

[gaiyofanfiction]

Why can’t you see? (Part 2)

Part 1 - Part 2

Kang Daniel x Reader

Angst

Two-Part

A/N: Well, people were asking for a part 2, here it is! I hope you like it! Sorry the ending is kinda crappy. I was losing focus lmao ~Yosei

~~~

It's been three days since you've heard from Daniel. The last time you had any contact with him was the day of the talent show. Every minute of the past three days you wondered if your decision to sing that song was a good idea. You have no idea if he had actually understood what you were trying to say or if you're way overthinking this.

Sighing, you flip over onto your stomach and stare at your phone. You have been extremely tempted to text Daniel but your fear of rejection has prevented you from doing so. This is the first time since you two were kids that you went this long without talking. Which automatically made you think something is different.

You turn your phone over to see the post it note on the back of your phone. It was the boy’s number from the talent show. You stare at the seven digit number with his name written underneath, Daehwi. The boy has periodically crossed your mind, when it wasn't wandering to the boy who resided in your heart. Maybe giving him a chance wouldn't be a bad idea.

You peel off the post it and enter the number into your text box;

You: Hey, Daehwi? This is Y/N, from the talent show.

Daehwi: Y/N, hi! I was hoping to hear from you soon :)

You smile at the comment.

You: Sorry I didn't contact you sooner, I've been Dealing with some things. But anyway, I was wondering if you were free tonight to hang out? I've been stuck in this house and need to get out.

Daehwi: I am actually! Do you want to meet at the Cafe on Main? Let's say in like, two hours?

You: Okay, I would love to. :)

You close your phone and stand up, stretching out your arms. You walk to your closet and open the doors, searching for an outfit to wear on your date.

~~~

Daniel looks down at the flowers he had recently purchased. His hands shaking, anxiety high as he makes his way to your house. It's been a few days since he saw you and he missed you like crazy.

He wished he had talked to you in the time the two of you spent apart but he wasn't sure what to say or how to say it. He did, however, spent the time he took away from you to break up with his horrible girlfriend. It didn't go over very well, but he had officially had enough.

Now, Daniel was free to finally ask you to be his. He had bought lilies, your favorite flower and was on his way to see you. The boy kept rehearsing what he was going to say to you, replaying it over and over again in his head. It has to be perfect or he might lose you for good.

Daniel finally makes it to your house. He walks up to your front door, pausing momentarily to gather himself. He lifts a shaky hand to knock, only to have the whip open before his fist could make contact.

You open the door to see a wide eyed Daniel standing in the way. You raise a brow in shock, your heart fluttering.

“Daniel? What are you doing here?”

The boy blinks, standing there for a moment before clearing his throat to respond. “O-Oh, hey Y/N. I just came by to-” He stops for a brief second, finally taking you in. He noticed how you did your hair, how you were wearing a light amount of makeup and your clothes were of semi-formal wear. He put two and two together before internally wincing. “Y-You going out?”

“Oh,” you look down at your clothes and look back at the boy in front of you, a light blush dusting your cheeks. “Yeah, I have a date.”

Daniel's heart sinks, his hand tightening around the lilies hidden behind his back. Is he finally too late?

You glance behind him, seeing the flowers tight in his grip. You tilt your head. “Off to see the girlfriend?”

He furrows his brows in confusion, wondering how you came to that conclusion. You gesture to the flowers behind his back.

“Oh, these.” ‘No, they're for you. Because I’m in love with you.’ “Um, yeah, I'm on my way to see her right now actually.” ‘Dammit Daniel, why the fuck did you say that?!’

He sees your smile falter for a split second before it sets itself back into place. You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, pulling the door shut behind you. “Well, I better get going. I don't want to be late. I'll see you later, yeah?”

You walk around him, purposely keeping a distance between the two of you. Daniel notices, making him frown. He reluctantly watches you walk down the street, seeing you fade away in the distance, taking with you his chances of finally being with the girl of his dreams.

~~~

You let out a small sigh as you push the food around your plate, not feeling too hungry. Daehwi watches you, his head tilted to the side.

“Y/N, are you alright?”

You snap your head up, a fake smile plastered across your face. “Of course I am.”

He raises a brow, not believing you for a moment. “I don't believe you. Your mind has been elsewhere the entire time. What's bothering you?”

“I-it's nothing to worry about Daehwi. I'll be okay.”

“It's that boy, isn't it.”

His words make your halt, your smile falling. He sees your grip on your fork tighten, the corner of his mouth lifting for a brief moment. “The boy from the talent show, you're in love with him aren't you.”

It wasn't a question. Daehwi stated it matter of fact, causing you to place your form down and sigh.

“Is it that obvious?”

The boy chuckles. “I saw the way you looked at him. It was very clear that you felt more than friendship towards him.”

You bite your lip and blink rapidly, keeping the tears from slipping. “I'm so sorry, Daehwi. I really like you and you seem like an amazing guy. But-” you sigh. You hated to lead someone on when you know you can never feel the same way.

“Go.”

Your head snaps up, eyes wide. He laughs when he sees your expression.

“Go, tell him how you feel. You'll regret it if you don't.”

Your body is frozen in the chair, not sure what you should do. Daehwi takes your hands in his, a genuine smile gracing his handsome features. “I've been there, Y/N. There was this girl whom I loved more than anything. I never told her how I felt and then it was too late. I regret it every day of my life and I don't want to see the same thing happen to you. So go! Go get your man.”

You shake your head, “I c-can't. He doesn't feel the same! And besides, he has a girlfriend!”

Daehwi squeezes your hands, “just trust me. You need to tell him. You will regret it if you don't. Take the risk. He seems like the guy you would take that risk for.”

Something inside you snaps to life when Daehey says those words. You knew he was right. You squeeze his hands back and lean over to place a light kiss on his cheek. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” You hesitate before leaving. “And I'm so sorry this didn't work out. I don't doubt you'll find someone who will love and care for you. You're a sweet guy, Daehwi.”

He laughs and smiles. “Thank you, Y/N. Now go! Before it's too late!”

You sharply nod your head and left some money before running out of the cafe. Your legs carry you as fast as they could to Daniel, needing to see him. To finally, truly tell him how you feel.

~~~

Daniel sighs, staring at the bouquet of flowers before him. He honestly wasn’t sure what to do at this point. He was sure that he would be able to win you, to be able to call you his. It came as a shock to him when you were on your way to another date.

It was too late. He was too late. He wasted who knows how many years on other girls when the one person who he belonged to, the one person he knew would make him happy was right there in front of him the whole time. Now, he wasn’t sure if he even had you as a friend anymore.

Suddenly, he hears a loud, desperate knock on the door. Sighing, he reluctantly stands up and shuffles his way to the front door. He opens it and is shocked when he sees you standing there, out of breath.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“Daniel, please listen. I have some things I need to say to you and I’d like you to keep your mouth shut until I’m done,” you huff, your hands on your knees. You breath quickly, trying to catch your breath. You straighten yourself up and give the boy an awkward smile. “Daniel, I’m in love with you.” Daniel sucks in air and holds his breath for a moment. He already knew this information but to actually hear you say it made his heart burst. You continue, not noticing his little action.

“I’ve been in love with you for years now and I never had the guts to tell you. I was always afraid you would reject me and then we wouldn’t even be friends anymore. I know you’re in love with someone else, I know you have a girlfriend, but I couldn’t keep this in any longer. I’m so sorry.”

“Y/N, I-”

You hold up a hand to shut him up, making him raise a brow. “I’m not finished yet. I’m so helplessly in love with you, I don’t know how to feel or what to do. I’m sorry about the talent show. I sang that song to you because it reminded me about how I feel about you. I’m sorry I put it out in the open and I’m sorry I spilled everything - why are you looking at me like that?”

You furrow your brows at the boy in front of you. He was leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed and a brow raised, a smirk of amusement gracing his handsome features. He starts to chuckle and then to laugh. “You’re so cute when you’re flustered.”

Your mouth drops open and you scoff, your face turning red. “Hey! I’m spilling my gut out to you and all you can do is laugh and-”

Daniel grabs you by the face gently, making you freeze. “Shut up,” he smirks and pulls your face to his, lips meeting in the middle for a hard kiss.

You’re too frozen to react. It took you a moment to realize that the one and only Kang Daniel was kissing you. He pulls away before you can respond, making you stutter.

“I- How- Why- What just happened?”

He chuckles and runs a finger down your cheek. “I’m in love with you too, Y/N.”

You open and close your mouth like a fish. You’re in a complete state of shock, not knowing how to respond. Daniel tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear, already knowing what he has to explain.

“I knew what that song was about at the talent show. I could see it, the way you looked at me. God, how I couldn’t see it before I don’t know. You’ve been standing by my side for years while I find girl after girl who wasn’t you. I kept breaking your heart and I didn’t even realize it,” he frowns, a pained look in his eyes. “During your song, I came to realize that I’ve been in love with you too. I know I have been, I’ve just been too blind to see it. You know those three days we didn’t talk? I was dealing with a break up. I broke up with my girlfriend.”

You blink rapidly, your mind wandering to everything that happened since the talent show. That’s when you realized something. “You didn’t come over just to say hi while on your way to your girlfiend’s, did you. You came to ask me to be yours?” You say the last few words in practically a whisper.

Daniel nods, taking your hands into his. “Yes, I did. But when I found you about to leave for a date, I thought I finally lost you. That it was too late.”

You squeeze his hands and look down. “I’m sorry. I just never thought you’d feel the same way back. I was losing hope.” You look up at the boy with a smile. “But now, I’m really hoping this means that I get to finally be your girlfriend.”

Daniel laughs and pulls you into a tight hug, burying his nose into your sweet scented hair. “Yes, it does. Thank you for coming back, Y/N.”

You hug him tight, your heart soaring from the contact. It’s been years since you fell in love with your best friend. Finally, you feel right where you belong. He finally sees you as more than just a friend. Someone he can spend the rest of his life with.

“Hey, what happened to your date?” Daniel tilts his head curiously.

“Oh, turns out he was meant to be just a good friend.” You smile to yourself, forever thankful in Daehwi for giving you the push you needed.

~~~

[Masterlist]

[homesteak]

pepsicola

sfw johndave fic my friend gave me for christmas!

mid 1900s catholic school au

word count: 3306

John’s room was on the top floor, and he had no family with him to help carry his luggage.  His single suitcase was heavy, and the buckles were threatening to pop open.  He dragged up the narrow, stuffy stairwell until he came to the last door.

He heaved it open and trudged down the hallway, his suitcase banging against the backs of his legs.  His room was at the very end of the hallway on the right.  The door was ajar, and some kind of rock music was playing from the room.  John couldn’t put his finger on it.  It was honest and sexy, something he knew someone’s parents would disapprove of.

The left side of the room had already been claimed.  A suitcase was open in the floor, half of its contents strewn about the room.  A David Bowie poster had been tacked crookedly to the wall.  A raggedy pair of red Chucks that were definitely not up to the uniform standard sat at the foot of the bed.

A wispy pillar of smoke puffed from the bed.  John’s alleged roommate was draped across it.  His socked feet were crossed at the ankles.  A cigarette dangled from his fingers.  Most of it had burned away instead of being inhaled.

John scrambled into the room.  He dropped his suitcase, yanked the door shut behind him, and hurried over to throw the window open.  “Isn’t that against the rules?”

His roommate leisurely rose to a sitting position and flicked the ashes from his cigarette.  “I can’t believe you blew your first impression in such a short amount of time.”

John blinked at his candor.  Part of him was relieved--they could both skip the awkward politeness now and get it all out in the open.  But upon getting a full view of his roommate, John knew it was going to be much more complicated than that.

His untucked shirt and slacks tailored his slim, fit frame just about perfectly.  His hair was smooth and blond, with a few rebellious strands falling against his forehead.  His lips were round and pink enough to make John jealous of the cigarette.  A pair of sunglasses hid his eyes, but not the smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks.

He leaned over and turned the volume down on his record.  John couldn’t see his eyes, but he got the crawling feeling his roommate was looking him up and down.  He was already prickling, but now heat was blooming across his face.

“I’m Dave.”  He put out his cigarette on his bed frame.

“I’m--I’m John,” John stammered.  He quickly turned away and tried to busy himself with his luggage.  He lugged it over and heaved it onto his naked mattress.

“Are you sure?” Dave asked.  “I think you might be lying.”

“No.”  John tried to focus on finding a drawer for his socks instead of the way Dave’s voice sounded or how his face was burning up.  “I’m pretty sure my name is John.”

He heard Dave flop back down onto his bed.  “You sure you aren’t, maybe, Steve or someone?  You kinda look like a Steve.”

John peeked over his shoulder.  “I do?”  From this angle, he could see that Dave’s eyes were closed.  He tried not to linger on them.

“Yeah.”  He hummed to his music for a bit.

John turned back to his belongings just as Dave started to turn over onto his side.

“Say, what grade are you in?  I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

John examined his wardrobe on the opposite side of his room. “I’m a, uh, senior.  This is my first year here.”  He started hanging his clothes, painfully aware that Dave was eyeing him.

“What’s your problem, man?”

He figured he better not look at Dave.  “Nothing’s my problem.”

He listened to Dave take the record off and flip through his collection for another.  “You worried about having a delinquent roommate?  Think I might run you off?”  He could hear the smirk in his voice.  It was an edge, a slight chuckle.  If it had fingers it would have been tickling up John’s spine.

John wracked his brain for a way to get the upper hand in this conversation.  He made the strategic decision not to pay Dave a glance as he spoke, but it was mostly just to hide the red in his cheeks.  “You’ve got a reputation here, don’t you?”

He shifted around on his bed.  “Guilty.”

John straightened his posture and folded a shirt neatly against his chest.  From the corner of his eye, he peered at the various garments lying around Dave’s side of the floor.  “I don’t care, man.  Just as long as whatever you’re doing doesn’t get me in trouble.”

“Okay, I think I can respect that.”

John unpacked his bed sheets and turned back around to dress his mattress.  Dave was lying with his feet propped up against the wall and his head hanging off the edge of his bed.  His half cigarette was between his lips, but it wasn’t lit.  He wasn’t saying anything, but John knew his eyes were following him.  

John decided he was going to allow himself one evening of homosexual thoughts, and then he was never going to look at Dave in that way again.

“Dinner starts in a few minutes,” Dave announced.  He rolled out of his bed and took his record off.  He grabbed his tie from his chair and tucked it lazily under his collar, letting the ends just hang loose.  He ran his fingers through his hair a few times and then turned to John, who quickly attempted to pretend he hadn’t been watching his every move.  “Why don’t you come with me, Steve?”

---

Dave didn’t say much outside of pointing out certain buildings and good places to smoke on the way to the cafeteria.  John kept looking at him and trying to piece together what kind of reputation exactly he could have.  Everything in John’s good nature told him to keep away from this boy, but his defiant aloofness made him want to chisel as deep as he could go.

He followed Dave through the line and sat across from him at a far table next to a window.  The evening sunlight made the outline of his hair glow white.  He watched John cut apart his chicken delicately and methodically.  Dave picked at his green beans one by one.

“So why are you here for just your senior year?”

John could tell he wasn’t the type for small talk, so he must have been genuinely interested.  “I got a scholarship.  I thought this school would look good on college applications.”

Dave stopped chewing and swallowed.  “A scholarship?”

“What?”  John couldn’t tell if he was impressed or alarmed.

He went back to stabbing at his food.  “You know what kinds of kids are here, right?  Not ones who get scholarships.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Oho, man.”  Dave laughed and shook his head.  “You’re too cute, John.”

John stuttered for a moment, that annoyingly familiar heat rising back to his cheeks.  “What?”

Dave chewed his food, which was clearly more important to him than this conversation.  “This isn’t where good, hard-working boys from middle-class families who wear clean specs and ironed shirts and get scholarships go.”  He pointed at John with his fork.  “This is the kind of school where filthy rich parents dump their snot-nosed sons for nine months out of the year because they have better things to do than raise them.”

John’s chest felt tight.  He was fully aware of all he was saying.  He just figured if he kept his head down, they wouldn’t be able to sniff him out.  But Dave had barely known him for an hour.  “Oh.”

“Hey, don’t you worry.”  He picked a few green beans from John’s plate.  “You’re lucky you got me as a roommate.”

“I thought you had a reputation?”

“That’s right.”  Dave bit the beans from his fork, never breaking eye contact with him.  He smirked and licked his lips.  “‘Cause I’m at the top of the food chain.”

---

For the next few days, Dave did as he said he would and took John under his wing.  He was right.  Out of all the filthy rich kids, he was the filthiest.  The underclassman dove out of his way when he walked around the campus.  If he held out a cigarette, someone would light it for him.

John couldn’t figure out why Dave let him hang around.  He couldn’t figure out why he actually asked him about himself and listened when he talked about the movies he liked.  He couldn't figure out how he still knew so little about him.

Monday morning, John arrived early to his first-period pre-calculus class.  He tried to look busy with his books as more students trickled into the classroom.  It was a plain, uncomfortable kind of room.  The desk rows were too tight together, and the walls were bare of any diagrams or posters.  The blinds were drawn, and the room was bathed in harsh electric light.

Once the teacher entered, the atmosphere seemed to get sucked out of the room.  She was tall and rail-thin, with a rigid posture and an expression that seemed even more strict and unmoving.  She unloaded a thick math book and started writing her name on the chalkboard in her tight, jagged handwriting:  Ms. Richter.

About a second before the tardy bell rang, none other than Dave glided into the classroom.  If he noticed the razor-sharp glare Ms. Richter shot him, he wasn’t fazed by it.  He spotted John and squeezed into the open seat beside him.  He had no books, no paper, just a stubby pencil and his sunglasses.

Richter quieted the class with just a pointed look.  She cleared her throat and gave her speech about how she had no tolerance for tomfoolery, and a vague--but still effective, John thought--about what would happen if anyone were to disrespect her policy.  She had her eyes fixed on Dave the entire time, but his expression remained neutral and undaunted.

“Mr. Strider,” she said, stinging enough that John saw Dave’s fingers tighten around the edge of his desk.  All the boys looked in his direction.

“If you think I’m like any of your previous instructors and will allow any of your notorious nonsense, you are sorely mistaken.”

She marched down the row so swiftly she fluttered the papers on students’ desks.  In a flash, she swiped her talons and snatched the sunglasses off of his face.

John felt his throat squeeze.  In a swirl of fabric, she marched back up to her desk and stuffed the glasses in her bag.

“Sunglasses are a violation of the dress code, Mr. Strider.”

John dared a look at Dave.  He sat completely still, his hands clamped around the edges of his desk.  His eyes were shut, and breaths came hard and slow in and out of his nose.

The class was achingly silent for the rest of the period.  As soon as the bell rang, Dave disappeared.  He was no longer at the top of the food chain.

---

John didn’t see Dave for the rest of the day.  He thought about going back to their room between classes to check on him, but he figured it probably wasn’t his place.  He didn’t want to be seen and wanted to stay that way.

After classes, he reluctantly decided to head back to their room.  When he got to his floor, he could hear music blaring from down the hallway.  The door was cracked, and he carefully pushed it open.  The air was smoky.  Dave had lit four cigarettes and just let them burn.  

John closed the door behind him and went to open the window.  Dave was hanging upside down from his bed, his eyes still shut.  He wanted to say something, but he decided he’d wait and let Dave speak first.

John slipped out of his shoes and settled on his bed with the book he’d been assigned for his literature class.  Dave reached over blindly and turned the music down.

John was several pages in when he finally spoke.

“I’m going to get my shades back.”

John froze, his thumb resting on the corner of his page.  He placed his glasses back on his nose.  Dave hadn’t moved from his position.  He still wasn’t showing the other boy his eyes, but his flat expression had shifted slightly.  His thumb drummed eagerly against his chest.

“What?”

He chewed on his lip.  “Tonight at six.  We’re going to break into her office.”

“We?”

“Yeah?”

John swallowed as he tried to process what was happening.  “Can I ask why?”

“A heist is better with company.”  Dave climbed off his bed and went to choose another record.  He kept his eyes away from John.  “Don’t question it, Egbert, just be flattered I asked.”

“No, I meant--”  He knew he was stepping into risky territory.  “Why do you have to steal them back?”

He could almost see the wall coming up in front of Dave.  It was a real one, too, not just a pretty translucent one he kept up for mystery.  “I’m not sure what kind of answer you’re looking for.”

As much as he wanted to press, John decided that for some reason he didn’t want to ruin whatever little thing they had going here even more.  “I’m not looking for one at all.  I was just making sure you knew why.”

Dave snickered.  “Okay.  Are you gonna come with me or not?”

John frowned.  He flicked at the corner of his book and bit the inside of his cheek.  “I can’t tonight, Dave.  The practice room is only open at six, and I’ve got to go.”

He shrugged.  “Heist at seven, then.”

---

John hadn’t been expecting Dave to accompany him to practice, so naturally, he was completely unprepared.  He kept himself always just out of his plain field of vision somehow, and stayed in his peripherals.

He followed John into the music room and flipped on the lights behind them.  John felt his eyes on him as he pushed the bench up to the piano and tested a few chords.  He sat down and waited for Dave to say something, but he stayed quiet.

John ran through a few pieces, maybe concentrating too hard on not missing notes instead of actually playing them.  Why did he feel he needed to impress Dave?  Maybe because he’d chosen him to join him on his heist.  Maybe it was because he’d taken the time to watch him practice.  Maybe it was because he wanted to be the reason for moving that indifferent expression of his.  Maybe because he wanted to see him smile outside of his daydreams.

He attempted a more ambitious piece he’d been working on.  He stumbled through the chords and disentangled his way through the notes.  He stopped about halfway through before he made a complete fool of himself.

“Why’d you stop?” Dave asked, causing John to jump.

“It--It needs a lot of work.”  Warmth seeped back into his cheeks.

“So keep working.”

Dave had pushed three chairs together and was lying across them like a cat in a windowsill.  John smiled.

“Why’d you come with me?”

“Why’d you let me?”

John couldn’t tell him why.  He couldn’t even tell himself why.  He couldn’t tell him he thought about crawling into his bed with him at night.  He couldn’t tell him he looked at the freckles on his back when he came back from the showers.  He couldn’t tell him he was hooked on the impossible mystery Dave Strider was.

“I think you’re swell, I guess.”

Dave laughed.  “Don’t tell me you write poetry, too.”

He got up and squeezed himself next to John on the bench.  John reflexively pinned his elbows to his sides.  Dave’s thigh pressed against his.  “Teach me a song.”

If John wasn’t already on fire, he was now.  Sweat beaded at the back of his neck.  He tried not to shake as he lifted his hands back to the piano.  “Do you know where C is?”

“Do I look like I know where C is?”

John reached over and hit C down low and instructed him to copy him at the middle.  He slowly demonstrated the melody for “Heart and Soul”.  Dave clumsily mimicked him.

As he kept repeating the notes to get a feel for the melody, he said, “Thanks for not prying about my shades.”

John tentatively began on the chords.  “Why are you thanking me?”

“You seem like the kind of guy who always likes to ask if you’re okay.”  He hit the wrong key and frowned.  “Like the kind of guy who cares.  I’m glad you figured out not to do that shit to me.”

No matter how badly John wanted his hand to accidentally bump into Dave’s, he avoided it.  “You don’t want me to care?”

He finally looked at him, full in the face.  His eyebrows were scrunched, and his eyelids sat low.  His eyelashes were light and curly, nearly close enough to dust against the other boy’s nose.  John couldn’t tell what color his eyes were, and he kind of liked it.

“I think I do want you to care.  I just don’t want you to talk about it.”

Dave turned back to the piano and started practicing the melody again.  John matched the chords with his choppy rhythm the best he could.

“Dave, I don’t think we should steal your sunglasses back.”

He didn’t stop playing.  He must have expected John to say that.  “Why not?”

“I--I think that’s what Richter is expecting.  I think she’s trying to get something out of you so you can be punished.”

Dave was quiet for a long moment.  John took it he realized what he was saying was right.  “Hey, John?”

John’s heartbeat lurched as the side of Dave’s hand bumped ungracefully into his.  “Yeah?”

“How about I take you out to see a movie tonight?”

---

Dave took their excursion as an opportunity to teach John where he could go to sneak in after curfew.  He jimmied open the fire exit and pushed John inside.  They clambered up the stairs and slipped into their room.  Dave was smiling.

He put on a record and flopped down on his bed.  He said nothing, only bobbed his head a little and grinned at John.

He turned to his dresser so he could maybe stifle that stubborn heat.  He changed out of his uniform and into his pajamas.  “You know, I almost forgot, Dave.”

“Forgot what?”

John picked up his pants and turned out one of the pockets.  “I grabbed these at the gas station while you were filling your car up.”  He fastened the top button on his pajama shirt and presented Dave with a pair of aviator sunglasses.

Dave got up and approached John.  He took the shades from his open palm and examined them, his expression still as usual.

“I--I know it’s silly, but--”

“John.”  He put on the sunglasses.  The price tag was still hanging off of them.  He barely had any time to admire how they looked on him.  “Just this once, stop being cute.”

“What?”

Dave grabbed the front of his pajamas and kissed John on the mouth.  He felt him lift onto the balls of his feet to reach him.  He couldn’t move.  He could only stare as his glasses bumped into Dave’s.

He pulled away, still gripping John’s collar.  It looked like his lips were trying their damnedest not to pull into a grin.  “I warned you.”

“Dave, I--”  John’s lips still buzzed with Dave.  His nose was nearly touching his.  He could taste the Pepsicola and popcorn.  He swallowed.  “I won’t talk about it.”

He wrapped Dave in his arms and kissed that stubborn grin.