#i'm always chasing that feeling of the music coming into focus | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

woncon · 18 days ago

Text

➳ the case of the missing boyfriends

➶ poly!stray kids x gn!reader (seungsung focus) ｡˚ °

-ˏ` ✎﹏ Last time, your cookies were missing. Now six of your boyfriends are. They probably went on a date and something happened. Everyone's phone is off, only one rings and a stranger answers. They have a riddle, a game for you. And that starts the race against time to find the others.

➴ genre: thriller/mystery, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, estabilished relationship, polyamory, non-idol!au, angst to fluff

: ̗̀➛ warnings: horror house elements (evil clowns, a chainsaw chase, zombie lady), nightmares, a silly fight scene, gets suggestive in the end, wooyoung has a cameo, one mpreg joke, happens after the case of the missing cookie but can be read as a stand alone

⌨ :: 8.5K words ♡ ︵ . .

⁀➷ when i came up with the idea, i intended it to be a lot more silly than it turned out. however, once you read the whole fic, you'll realize that it's still quite silly. if this fic had a theme music, it would be circus. i'm 100% sure.

⁀➷ big hug for both @honeytwo and @wonsheep for betaing this <3

➳ mlist

４：３０ｐｍ

You wake up to someone invading your personal space. Hands embracing your warm, soft, dreamy world, tiny kisses sneaking in, slowly pulling you out. Even though you're usually fussy when you're woken up, it feels good. You reach out to pull the person to you, so that they can join you in the relaxing, comfortable comfort of the bed - and use it as a pillow, of course.

But he takes your hands off his neck. You snore and squint in frustration to find out who is the villain who will surprise you with a kindly kiss and then leave you. If Seungmin's messing with you again, he won't get away with it this time. You'll pin him to the mattress with your body, then lay on him like a lazy sack of potatoes and let him suffer.

“I can't, honey.” Finally, you don't have to open your eyes, because his whispered words tell you that you're dealing with Minho.

Groaning, you reach for him again, grabbing his bicep.

“Just a little bit?” You try to hook him like a koala so he has no choice but to cuddle with you. “You're warm and you smell s’good…”

"I have a date," Minho announces.

You're not giving up. One last attempt to get Minho's love right away. You pat the empty seat next to you.

“When I come back.” Minho kisses you goodbye on the lips and climbs off the bed. You open your mouth to protest when he adds, "I promise.”

He's a man who doesn't make promises lightly: cuddling is guaranteed. Now you watch his receding figure with a calm heart. He has proved stronger than your resolve.

“In the meantime…”

You shudder at the whispered, husky voice from the cushion next to you. You thought you were alone.

“I'll have to suffice.” Jisung wraps his arms around your waist, tilts his head on your shoulder. “Please.”

When you don't push him away but hug him with a similar affection, he sighs contentedly.

You glance towards the bedside table and read the time. It's 4:30 and you're in no mood for anything. You want to continue your nap. By the time the thought occurs, you're almost asleep in Jisung's embrace.

７：４６ｐｍ

When you wake up because someone tickles your feet, you immediately look for the clock. You are shocked by the exact time. You've slept for more than four hours: in this house, you've set a daytime record.

There is always one or more loud, squeaky individuals who are difficult to do this activity around, other times a few mischievous ones who specialise in annoying the sleeping, or you may have those who make every move to rattle the bed as they climb onto the mattress, waking the peaceful Sleeping Beautys. In your home, romantic princes who wake you with a kiss are rare.

Now the mewling kittens have arrived to put an end to your record-breaking nap. The ones who just found you when no one else was feeding them. Provided you wake up soon enough after being visited, there are no drastic consequences such as pajama scratching attempts, scratch marks on the skin or even a kitten settling on your face. Fortunately, you wake up in time for the animals' antics.

Soonie, Doongie and Dori patrol the end of the bed, rubbing against your blanket-covered feet at intervals. They notice that you've been successfully awakened and meow almost in chorus, clambering upwards in encouragement and nuzzling you in submission.

You scratch the base of Doongie's ear, and you are brought even more awake by the purr that ripples through your side.

“He neglected you too, after promising to come back, didn't he?”

They purr in agreement.

After you've fed the kittens, you'll search for Minho and drag him to bed. No one will be allowed to stand in your way.

７：５０ｐｍ

In the kitchen you find Jisung. You have some vague memory of cuddling with him while you slept the sleep of the righteous. You may have drooled on him somewhere, but you can't be sure. In any case, your sleeping partner is currently facing the microwave. He's wearing a stretched-out, nondescript grey T-shirt and watching the numbers scrolling on the display. A mug is circulating in the microwave, he always takes a drink after he wakes up.

Jisung stretches. A slice of his thin waist and hips flashes, then his clothes fall back over him. He groans while he ruffles his hair, and the homely energy that emanates from him is more powerful than the impatient purring and rubbing of hungry kittens at your feet.

Dori leaves your feet, instead nimbly approaching your boyfriend and greeting him with a meow. Jisung looks down, then turns around. He smiles softly, his hair tangled, his face puffy from a restful sleep.

You'd like to throw yourself at him and squeeze the life out of him, but instead you return his smile and step over to the cupboard where you keep the cat food. You take out three cans and three bowls. At the rattle-rumble, Dori decides to return to you, describing figure eights with his cuddly body around your legs. You serve the menu on the floor. The three kittens begin to gobble enthusiastically.

In the meantime, Jisung's drink is ready. The scent of warm cocoa fills the room, drowning out the smell of cat food. His spoon clatters against the edge of the mug, the cats chew and snort eagerly, otherwise it's quiet. You sit down next to Jisung, wondering what's weird about your home.

"I dreamed of evil clowns," Jisung admits.

You pull your chair closer to him. You take his hand.

"Yes?"

Jisung nods, then takes a sip. "They kidnapped the others."

"All of them?"

"I think so. I couldn't see everything clearly. I'm sure about Chanie hyung and Innie."

"You want to talk about it?"

You're stroking the back of his hand to reassure him. His face has turned pale from recalling the dream. You don't want to force him to elaborate, but it might be easier to get over it if he shares it with someone. In this case, you. Otherwise, Felix or Hyunjin would be here with him, hunting for the meaning of dream symbols on the internet.

Where are they?

Jisung pouts, his brows furrowing as he recalls the broken mirror shards of his nightmare.

"We were at a circus. The boys were tied up. The clowns were pointing different guns at them with balloons, but I knew they would go off if they wanted to. They were tall and dangerous, and their eyes were so empty they still gave me the creeps." Jisung squeezes your hand. You squeeze back supportively and watch intently. "So they were captured. They were being held in the circus, and when we found them…”

“We found them?” You're surprised. “We looked for them together?”

“You and me, yes. When we found them, the clowns told us to choose who would die and who would live. We were given enough time for Doongie to sing the anthem.” Here, Jisung goes silent, swallows, then excuses himself. “I know it sounds weird, but it was really scary at the time. I was forced to choose.”

The shocking image in your mind keeps you speechless for a few moments. Finally you pull yourself together, because Jisung needs you to calm him down. “That must have been awful. But don't worry, Sungie. Only one thing can come true from this: Doongie singing the anthem.”

Jisung smiles gratefully, and again looks more rested than worried.

“Thanks for letting me snuggle up with you when I woke up. And for listening to me.”

“Anytime.”

Jisung leans closer, and the next moment you're resting your hands on his thigh for easy access to his mouth. He tastes like sweet cocoa. Hmm, sugary cocoa: tastes much better than the banana lip balm Hyunjin used, then Minho kissed him hard and brushed his teeth three times till the flavor lef-

You bow away from Jisung.

“Do you know where Minho is?”

Jisung brows raise to his forehead.

“We're kissing and you want the company of another man?” he asks, shocked. “I knew you liked his kiss better than mine.”

You tug at the front of his shirt and press another kiss to his lips.

“You should spend less time with Hyune. You're adopting his drama queen habits.”

“At least Hyunjin doesn't ask about other people when we're making out,” he snorts disgruntledly.

“I had to ask. He needs to pay off his debt. And if we get really into making out, I'll forget what I wanted besides you.”

"Forget everything then," he whispers. "I don't mind.”

You look at each other in silence. The kittens have finished eating. There's nothing but you and the endless, soothing silence.

Silence?

In this always cacophonous house?

Yes, it's silence. And it's so strange. No echoing laughter, no pattering footsteps, no shouting. As if no one were home.

“Sungie, since you woke up, have you met anyone?”

“You.” Jisung bites his lip and stares at your mouth like a master at his magnum opus.

“Besides me? “

Jisung hums thoughtfully. “No.”

Almost everyone went on a date?

Or were they all kidnapped by evil clowns?

No, no, no, no. They went on a date together and the two of you were left home to sleep peacefully. That could be what's behind this. Just no clowns.

You check your phone to see if you've got any text or visual reports, maybe any missed calls. Chan, Changbin and Hyunjin are usually keen to entertain you with some of the events of the date - if any of them are on the date, otherwise you'll have to wait. Chan will often call you to tell you where they are and how you're feeling. Changbin sends out messages about each location and who's doing what. And Hyunjin sends picturesque photos, and maybe it's meant to make you jealous that you're not going with them, and your heart does indeed tighten at times like this, but not out of jealousy, but out of admiration, because the photographer captures the moment as if you were there, breathing that air, with that sunlight on your face, with the people you love so much.

But today you didn't get a message, a call, a picture from anyone. No one wrote to say where they were going, what they were doing, how long they were staying. Not even that 'we're on a date, don't worry, we haven't been kidnapped by evil clowns'. After Jisung's dream, you need confirmation. If Minho didn't wake you up with a few kisses, you wouldn't know where he went.

You dial the first phone number on your call list, Chan's.

“The number you have reached is not available.”

You call the next number. And the next one. When the lovely female voice rings for the sixth time, the tension in the kitchen is thick and suffocating, like air in a balloon gun. You chew the inside of your mouth.

"Calm me down," you ask.

Jisung, who has been biting his nails until now, gets up. He moves to the calendar on the fridge, surrounded by pictures of you together.

“Well, there's nothing scheduled for today,” he reports uncertainly. “But that doesn't mean there's a problem!”

While he sits back down, you call the next number. The last one.

It rings.

But not one of your boyfriends answers.

“Hi,” A high-pitched little girl says hello. Jisung trembles next to you. “We have what you want. If you need it, come get it! Follow the clues. It'll be fun like the circus. But beware, if you don't find it by ten o'clock tonight, what you want will be lost forever. Bye-bye!”

The little girl's breaking up the line. You're looking at each other.

Your phone vibrates in your hand. You both cry out. You throw the device on the table like a furry spider.

You have a new message.

Go to the mall! Find Happy!!! <3

Before you can discuss what that means, the floorboard cracks. You snap your heads like frightened meerkats. In the doorway stands a tall figure in a red clown mask.

“MOMMY!" screams Jisung, and you scream too as you cling to each other in terror.

The clown snarls, takes a step. You grab Jisung's spoon and throw it towards the stranger. Droplets of cocoa splash into the air.

“Hey!” The clown is displeased. His voice is unrecognisable under the mask. He reaches under the cloth and pulls it off his head.

You can hear the stone clang as it smashes off your heart. Under the mask is Seungmin.

“We thought you were an evil clown who kidnapped the others,” Jisung whimpers in the aftermath of the shock he just experienced.

“What?” Seungmin picks up the spoon and throws it in the sink. “Is this some kind of new role-playing game?”

“This is deadly serious, Min,” sniffs Jisung in exasperation.

“Sit down,” you poke the chair. “We'll tell you what's the case, if you tell us why you were in that,” you point your finger at the clown mask in horror.

“It came for that bank robbery game Innie ordered for PS. I picked it up while I was playing, then got hungry and left it on,” Seungmin shrugs. “But you were looking at me like I was the devil before…” He looks at you expectantly, so you tell him about Jisung's dream, the failed calls, and ask him about his phone.

“I forgot to put it on the charger,” he explains why the device didn't ring

Finally, you show him the message. Seungmin looks at it thoughtfully.

“The leader of the clowns is a little girl,” you say.

“An evil clown litttle girl." Jisung shudders visibly. "The uncrowned princess of children's horror.”

“I'll call her," Seungmin announces casually.

“What?" you reply in chorus.

“It's definitely a prank. You're being played. Minho's on the date, so it's obvious he's behind it. Don't worry.”

Before you can convince him it's not a good idea, he calls the number.

“Hello?” The clown with the ringing voice answers. “What do you want? Is the message not clear enough?”

“Who is this?” asks Seungmin gloomily. “Is that you, Minho hyung?”

“I have no idea who Minho hyung is. But if you want a surprise, I suggest you play by the rules. No more calls, follow the clues or I'll get mad!”

The little girl hangs up again. An open threat is a fist to the chest. Your boyfriends are in danger. All of your boyfriends, and Seungmin is still staring at your phone screen as if he hasn't been given enough explanation.

“That sound is familiar..." he mutters.

“We have to save them, Seungmin.”

He immediately snaps his head up. 'You're not using a nickname, which means it's completely serious. Bloody serious.

Jisung nods. “We don't have time to ask questions. Let's go to the mall right now!” He gets up, no longer interested in his cocoa.

A few minutes ago you were kissing happily, and now your friends' lives depend on you.

“Are you coming or staying?” You take your phone from Seungmin's hand and slip it into your pocket.

He looks at you. You can almost see the questions zigzagging in his eyes and the fire that craves answers.

“I'm coming.”

８：１１ｐｍ

Seungmin speaks next on the escalator of the Plaza.

“Evil clowns because hyung dreamed it? Why would a bunch of clowns want to kidnap our boyfriends? And why not us?”

“For ransom,” you suggest.

“Have we received a demand? Any demands?” Seungmin asks.

You grab the barrier. “No, but–”

“They're doing it 'cause they can." Jisung's voice is desperate, hoarse. “It amuses them. I saw their faces in my dream. They enjoyed it.”

He's the first one off the escalator. You and Seungmin follow him.

Tension hovers around you like a heavy cloud of vapour, gripping your stomach, and every nerve in your body cracks like a sharp spear. Seungmin's disbelief doesn't help the situation. You'd like to give his sceptical brain a stimulating tap to make it more supportive. To make it realise that it's not the why or the how that matters, but finding your boyfriends and ending this state of being. It doesn't matter if they are evil clowns or deceitful people who want money. All that matters is what they have taken and how you get your lovers, back from them.

You have to find Happy. Happy can be a shop, an object, a person, or even an alias. The Mall is full of people and opportunities to be exploited. You look around cluelessly, but there is not a single sign of Happy in your immediate surroundings.

“Let's take a tour of the building,” you suppose. “You two on one side, me on the other.” You know how much Jisung hates crowds, let facing one alone. He definitely needs someone with him. “If we find anything, we'll call each other. If not, we'll go store by store.”

“Isn't that too time-consuming? We don't have two hours, and I doubt it's one puzzle.”

“Last time I lost something, I found it. You remember?” You're referring to the cookie case that Seungmin successfully slept through, but he heard about it enough times already.

“I doubt you'd find the boys now by kissing every person you see.”

“Trust my methods first, okay? If it doesn't work, it's your turn. The Plaza is huge and crowded. It's gonna take some time.”

Of course, you change your mind in four minutes when Jisung calls.

“Yes?”

“We found it,” he says, his voice shocked.

You hurry to the toy shop, as fast as you can slalom through the crowd of people surging in different directions. Jisung and Seungmin stare at a six-foot-tall balloon clown with blue hair, a red grin and a white-gloved wiener finger in his hand holding a sign: BE HAPPY! Around his red boat shoes are balloons.

“Is that Happy?"

“Probably.”

“And what next?”

“Well, you're the brains today," Seungmin looks at you.

“Oh, is that so? Do you believe us?”

“Let's just say it's pretty creepy that Happy is a clown.”

“Listen…” Jisung steps away from Seungmin, whose hand he's been holding. He reaches in between the board and the clown's body. “It looks like something”s here…” He pinches his fingers together and pulls out a yellow note.

You gather round to read it. There's only one address. It's not hard to recognise. It's the address of the nearest Donut King to your house, where you first dated Jisung and Seungmin, and where you've been countless times with the others since then.

８：４５ｐｍ

It's Friday night. The Donut King is packed with families, young people, hot drink lovers and those with a sweet tooth.

Seungmin spots a box, you follow him through the queue holding Jisung's hand. You duck down, then scan the crowd like meerkats scanning for danger. Not another colored clown, or anything resembling a clown. Seungmin sighs and lays the paper on the table. The message is simple, yet unclear. It doesn't tell you what to do here. One thing is for sure, you won't eat. The three of you are too nervous for half a bite, let alone a whole donut. You love to eat here, but now you're nauseous from the smell of oil and powdered sugar, the feeling of being stuck on a mission, and time is running out.

Jisung's feet kick unstoppably under the table. You run your fingers through his hair, simultaneously stroking his locks and massaging his scalp.

“They'll be fine,” you reassure him, and reassure yourself at the same time. “We will find them.”

“And the clowns or whoever will pay," Seungmin confirms.

“Part of me doesn't want to know who they really are. This part of me wants to back down, and I hate it for that.”

“But you're still here,” you let him know. “Even if you're scared and don't know what's coming, you're here with us to save the others, no matter what. You’re brave.

Jisung laughs in disbelief. “Me? Brave?”

“They're right. You are brave, hyung," Seungmin confirms. “You hate clowns and crowds, and today we are chasing clowns in crowds.”

Your other boyfriend blinks at him in surprise. He certainly didn't expect you to think him brave after he admitted he wasn't one hundred percent committed. But it's still true. You smile sweetly at him, and when he smiles back faintly you tilt your head on his shoulder. The soft scent that marked his skin in the kitchen is gone. His neck is clammy with sweat and his skin is astringent with stress. As much as it would be nice to stay like this, to calm Jisung and encourage each other, there's no way. The enemy is waiting for you, and in their grip is your world.

As if an angel has descended from the heavens to lend a helping hand, Wooyoung emerges from the bathroom. He notices you and not only lets you know he is here, but immediately waves you over and weaves his way through the guests. He's wearing his Donut King work clothes, from apron to doughnut-patterned slouch hat.

"Hi there," he says cheerfully.

“Wooyoung hyung! Do you know anything about the others?” Seungmin throws himself at him.

Wooyoung grins broadly. “Yeah, of course. I'll be right back.”

You look at each other. A gleam of hope.

“They left something for you.” Wooyoung returns with a cardboard drink holder. Three cups of slushy rest in it. Three slushy cups rest in it. Red, green, blue. Strawberry, green apple and blueberry. Three familiar flavours that leave a lousy taste when the flavour left on your tongue meets another flavour on another tongue. If the boys actually bought it, they'd know how much you've been shying away from this combination since the three of you first tasted it on each other's tongues. Unless they were forced to take these flavors. “A little something.”

He has no idea that a good friend of his has been taken hostage by a group of people obsessed with clowns.

“Who bought it?” You ask the first question. “Was anyone with them?”

“Was there anything strange about them?” Jisung joins in the questioning.

Wooyoung wonders.

“Chan hyung bought it. I think I saw the others at one of the boxes. I don't remember anybody I don't know, but there was a big crowd. Chan hyung seemed excited.”

Chan doesn't usually show that he's excited. He was probably more afraid.

“I have to go back. But we can talk later. Have fun!" he waves and then retires. His work, his life goes on as normal, as yours should.

“Ew.” Seungmin grimaces. “I love you guys, but the taste of our first kiss is still in my nightmares.”

“We can swap if you want,” Jisung offers. One by one, he takes the drinks out of the holder. “Rather a nasty tasting kiss than a clown-- Hey, wait a minute! There's something on this one. On top.”

He turns it towards you, and indeed. The plastic, blue roof has text in small letters. A new message from the robbers, for you.

Well done, team! You're just one step away from getting your surprise. Come to the House of Horrors if you're brave enough!

- Ary

Ary. Wraith name for a clown girl leader. And the House of Horrors? You shudder, and again the pithy tension rushes up to your toes. Just as you wouldn't kiss Seungmin with a tongue of slushy, you wouldn't go back to the House of Horrors. Once was enough. But you have no choice.

“Oh, man,” Jisung swallows hard and stretches his hand on the table. “Shall we do it? We're gonna do it, right?”

Seungmin puts his own on his in response. Jisung doesn't even have to ask you anymore, you automatically put your own hand on top of theirs, and you realise the significance of how good it is to have them with you on this journey, and not to face all the difficulties alone. Although you are more lonely, because the others are not here and you worry about them and miss them, you have nevertheless formed a small unit that gives you enough confidence to carry on without being completely consumed by panic.

９：１１ｐｍ

You reach the street of the House of Horrors. It's dark, the neighborhood is deserted. The building, with its rotting paintwork and weathered fa��ade, is a disgusting, uncomfortably creepy sight.

“I hate it here,” says Jisung.

You nod vehemently, because you have no objection. You wish it didn't end here. You wish you were all home already.

Seungmin sips the last few sips from his slushy. You decided to drink all three glasses to relieve stress and you won't kiss.

“What's the plan?” Seungmin asks, and Jisung looks at you expectantly.

“We're going to find the boys.”

The iron-barred entrance to the house of horrors is guarded by two burly clowns. Contrary to Jisung's dream, they don't have balloon guns. One with a scarred face holds a spear, the other a rusty axe. Though that rust could be dried blood, judging by the way the clown grins maniacally with his chipped teeth.

“Guests,” he says, stretching each note. As you march closer, she twirls the axe in her grip. On the handle is the name Annie written in runny red letters.

"We've been waiting for you," the other grunts. His teeth are green. Not spoiled meat, no, just a bit of salad. They are actors in the House of Horrors, like all monsters. Paint covers their faces and they have props in their hands. They're paid to give unfortunate people heart attacks.

They are actors, aren't they? Or are they part of the robbery gang?

“Go inside.”

They step away from the door, so you can read the locked sign perfectly. There's no opening hours, but if you remember correctly, the place normally opens at ten. Now, of course, it's different. It's probably rented by the people who took Chan and the others.

You go in, and Jisung is shaking. No sooner does the door close behind Seungmin than there's a high, witchy chuckle. You all flinch, you cling to Jisung, Seungmin pulls you both defensively to him. When you realise that you're just being played by the sound effect, you're a little relieved.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck," Jisung mants as you march into the darkness, where anything could leap out at you with sharp claws - or balloon guns - at any moment.

You pass a hideous ornament, a huge tarantula dangling in a cobweb, and then you have company. It emerges from a staff corridor behind you. You can't hear his footsteps, only the sound of him firing up the chainsaw. You snap your heads back. Of course it's a clown. It has sharp, long teeth and evil, tiny eyes. His green hair flutters in thick tufts of fur around his head as he winds the gun again and again under the naked, dangling light bulb.

“Run!” You don't know if any of you are actually saying it, or thinking it, or collectively thinking it, but all at once you start running in the only direction, down the tight, dim corridor. There are only a few flickers of red LED light. The cold brick wall seems to narrow, and the clown's squeaky-grunting saw grows louder. You can feel the slushy ice in the back of your throat. You imagine the touch of the saw in your back. Slowly, you tear Jisung's hand away, though he grips yours with similar fervour.

After a while, the ominous, cruel growl ceases. You pause to exhale, but are invariably on guard. The danger has passed, but it has not gone away. You reassure yourself that it was an actor. The first time you came here, you met a crazy clown with a chainsaw. Of course, if they hold a chainsaw on you and start chasing you, you don't wonder if you've ever had anything like this before, you run.

“Sungie? Are you feeling all right?” you ask, because Jisung is still gasping for breath and leaning on his knees.

He exhales. - I'm fine, it's just a lot to take in at once.

“Can you keep coming?” Seungmin asks.

“If I've come this far, there's no turning back. I might as well go to hell with you.”

You continue down the building's only corridor. íyou come to a small, basement-like room. Here, filthy brick walls protrude and the lighting is also dim, but you can clearly see the woman chained to the other side of the wall, near the exit. Her head is down, her hair completely covering her face. Her naked legs are stretched out, her feet are dirty, covered knee-deep by a hospital gown.

“She'll wake up, right?” Jisung chews his lip. Yes, he'd follow you to hell, you can believe him, but he'd get too hurt on the way, and you can't let that happen. You have to think of something.

“Yeah," Seungmin hums. "I'll take you across.”

“How?”

“First Jisung hyung, then you. You can close your eyes and everything. Trust me.”

Seungmin is generous, chivalrous and above all caring. He always has been, ever since you've known him, but the fact that he shows it so openly, and doesn't hide it behind sarcastic remarks or teasing, makes your heart flutter more than the chase you just experienced. So Jisung hops on Seungmin's back, the latter puts his arms around his thighs and moves towards her with cautious movements. Of course, no matter how cautious, she was waiting just for that, and shaking her chains, she howled. Her bloody, zombie-like face emerges from under what is presumably a wig, and she snarls at Seungmin. Wrestling with the handcuffs, she tries to get to him, stand up and bite him. Seungmin looks like a terminator in comparison. He marches with Jisung on his back. He might otherwise be somewhat frightened, but a sense of responsibility and fear amplifies his persistence. When he has successfully put the boy down, he returns to you. You look at him gratefully, then jump up and hug him tightly.

“VERS,” she screams at the two of you, like an inarticulate curse, while writhing on the ground like a suffering snake. “VERS! VERS! VERS!”

You're really inside the building now. You think you're about to reach the exit. Most of your memories of the place have merged into a nightmarish mass, but you don't think there are too many more obstacles. You then enter a room with skeletons propped up against the walls and discarded, cobwebbed bones crunching on the floor. In the middle of the room is a huge chest. It easily fits a man.

“This too?” You’re displeased. Better to complain than to be afraid. And if it can't be just one of those two, it's still better to complain and be terrified than just be terrified.

Of course, the crate creaks. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Seungmin roll up his sleeves as the lid reveals the contents of the chest. Somebody with a weeping clown mask emerges. They are holding an artificial candle in front of their drooping mask.

“What is the message?” she asks in a tinkling, young girl-like voice that you may hear in your nightmares, and that you've surely heard on the phone today.

“What?”

“To get the surprise, you have to tell us what the final message of your mission was.”

You don't want to play along, but if that's what it takes to see the others again, you swallow your disgust and think hard about what the heck the clown could be thinking about.

Seungmin's patience has run out, though. Surprisingly quickly, he pulls a sword from the skeleton at his side and points it at the clown's throat. His hand doesn't tremble, and he stands tall like a true hero. “No more games. Tell us where our boyfriends are at this instant!”

The clown casually pokes the weapon, and the whole thing shakes.

“It's plastic, honey. A prop, like everything else. The only real thing here is your love.”

“What?” Jisung can't take it anymore. “What the hell is going on? And also... Oh, shit!” He takes a step back.

In the next moment you understand why.

“I can’t believe this shit.”

From the darkness, the clown is joined by two more. One tall and muscular, the other shorter, but also muscular. They're ready for action, and Seungmin only has a toy sword.

“I'll ask you one last time. What is the message?” The clown girl tilts her head to the side.

“Fuck you all!” You manage to pull out a sword, too. If that's all you've got, you'll fight with it, but you'll fight anyway.

Jisung raises an axe in his hand and holds it towards the enemy. When it comes to you and the others, his anxiety and fear cannot put any restraints on his ability to stand up for you, and though he didn't believe you in the Donut King, he is proving just how true that is of him, and what a great boyfriend he is. “We want our boyfriends back, dickheads!”

You fall even more in love with both of them. Even if the clowns will defeat you, you're glad you had the chance to get to know and love them.

The clowns giggle, then start approaching you. You don't retreat, holding up your weapons defensively. The shorter clown gets so close to you that the end of your sword begins to twist across his chest, the weak plastic toy unable to take the pressure of muscles. As if on cue, the clown flexes his muscles, your sword is bent to one side, and all you can see is the chest trying to swallow your poor sword. Suddenly you get déjá vu. As if you've seen this chest before. Like you've touched it. It's so familiar.

Testing the power of the weapon, you slam it onto the man's arm, then, taking him by surprise, you lunge forward and pull the mask off his head.

“Ow,” Changbin says, stroking his shoulder. “It stings.”

Jut and Dwae stand in the way of your sword. Your hunch was right. But it only makes you more confused.

You dodge Changbin and run to the clown who's sword-fighting with Jisung. As soon as you're close enough, you recognize his scent, and even before you take off his mask, you know you'll be greeted by Chan's curly locks and handsome face.

“What the fuck?” Jisung gasps.

Seeing the developments, Seungmin also springs into action. He takes off the little girl's clown mask. Felix smiles up at him. So it wasn't a little girl, it was Felix, changing his voice.

“I knew I recognized that voice!” Seungmin exclaims. “That's the sound Lix makes when…”

“When?”

Seungmin scratches the back of his head and takes a closer look at his axe. “It's not important.”

“What is important is that we-”

Before you can finish, Jeongin sticks his head in the back doorway of the room. “Is the role-playing game over? Ready for the cake?” Then he takes the situation in, the swords, the whole atmosphere. “Oh, my God! You guys were fighting?”

“You guys had a fight?” Hyunjin appears on one side, Minho on the other.

“Who won?” asks the man who promised you hugs, hours ago, but instead you see him at the end of a nightmare. Thankfully, unharmed.

“We took this role-playing thing a bit too seriously," Chan replies.

“Role-playing?” you ask.

They're all fine. Felix was the clown on the phone, they left the clues. The evil clowns merged with your boyfriends. It still doesn't add up.

“We've gone clown-themed for the anniversary role play.”

“It was my idea!” Jeongin reports. “Because of the game I bought.”

“Anniversary?” Jisung blinks, surveying your boyfriends as if seeing them for the first time. “What anniversary?”

“Wait... Don't you know what day today is?” Changbin asks.

The three of you shake your heads. As your adrenaline levels drop, you feel empty, with question marks in place of your thoughts. You press on the rubber surface of the mask you hold in your hand, uncertain, looking lost as you lock gazes with Seungmin.

“We thought you were kidnapped by evil clowns,” Jisung whispers.

Felix looks concerned as he speaks softly to the boy. “Yeah?”

“Yes, and we were really fucking worried you'd get hurt if we didn't get here on time.”

“Oh,” Chan acknowledges with a soft look.

“Please, hyung, don't touch me now,” Jisung steps back when Chan goes to hug him.

“So when we saw the clowns outside, and then you as clowns, we prepared for a life-and-death struggle to save you,” you continue. You don't think it's likely that they meant to hurt you mentally on purpose, but regardless, they must know why Jisung is so upset that he won't even let Chan touch him, and instead backs up next to you and rests his head on your shoulder.

“We're fine,” Jeongin comes under the dim lamplight. “All of us.”

“We're sorry the clowns scared you,” says Changbin with a rueful look on his face, “We figured if Yongbokie didn't flinch, Sungie wouldn't either.”

“We wanted you to enjoy the game,” Felix assures you of their aims.

“What game would that have been?”

“A romantic treasure hunt. But we were clearly shit at organising it. I'm sorry. You can slash me with your swords if you want to.” Chan stands there in exasperation, and means it. He's seriously sorry, and you can smack him for real if you wish.

But Seungmin drops his sword. You follow his example. Jisung's axe also falls to the ground beside you, and he wraps his arms completely around your waist.

“We overreacted,” you admit, stroking Jisung's back in comforting circles. “We immediately assumed the worst after Sungie told me about his nightmare. We dragged Minnie along with us because we couldn't think of a better explanation than the evil clowns who kidnapped you.”

“Can I tell you the real explanation?”

All three of you nod in answer to Chan's question, almost simultaneously.

“Today is your anniversary. A year ago this time, you went on your first three-way date.”

And the picture finally comes together in your head. The toy store in the mall where you picked up Jisung because Google Maps on his phone wouldn't show him properly where Donut King was. In his confusion, he was looking at unicorns. Seungmin bought him one as a joke. At Donut King, Jisung paid for the donut menu, which at the time included slushy. The House of Horrors came up, and Jisung insisted that he really liked these places. Sp that you get to pay for something as well, you offered to go and foot the bill there. You didn't get very far inside, running out into the evening air screaming and holding hands. Seungmin was laughing, and you accused him of squeezing your hands repeatedly in fear. "Maybe I just didn't want you to let go," he had replied, still holding your hands. You knew at that moment that it was your first date, but not your last. And on the fourth, you were drinking slushies again, and those certain nasty-tasting kisses were exchanged.

The timeline unfolded correctly. Even Minho's "I'm going on a date" comment reminded you of your first date. You said the same thing to him when he wanted to pull you to him, but you were so excited you couldn't sit down at the thought of the Jisung-Seungmin date.

They've organized this reenactment eerily well. It's just a shame that you went down this road on a completely different, much scarier and more dangerous programme, and didn't really bother with the locations, other than getting closer to the destination.

“Fuck,” you groan in shock as the wagon of memories rolls up from your subconscious.

“We forgot our anniversary,” Jisung mutters with similar exasperation.

“Wow, I feel even worse now,” laughs Seungmin bitterly. Felix strokes his upper arm, and then, as Seungmin doesn't pull away, pulls him into a hug and whispers something in his ear. Soothing words, no doubt.

“I'm so, so sorry, babies. It wasn't supposed to be like this- We didn't mean to-”

“It's okay, Chanie,” you say, because Chan is looking more and more like Jisung before he has a panic attack. “We misunderstood each other. No hard feelings.” You extend your free hand toward him. Chan steps up to you and takes it, but his shoulders lower only when Jisung looks up from your shoulder and pulls him into your embrace.

“It wasn't directed at you, Chanie hyung. I was- I'm still confused," Jisung whispers into Chan's neck.

“It's okay, baby. It's a lot to take in, hmm?” He's keeping you both warm, holding you close. "But you survived. You're doing so well."

“And you fought so well, even if it was only with plastic!” says Changbin, who half-holes himself between your shoulders, resting his arm on your hip.

"Oh, yes," Felix counters, "I'll sleep soundly at night. If some dodgy gang should lay eyes on me and kidnap me, I know you'd fight for me even if you only had cheap plastic swords.”

“Of course!” you agree.

“For you, we'd take on half the world, go to houses of horror and fight clowns,” says Jisung, and it's liberating to hear those brave words from his lips, remembering how firmly he and the bard stood up against clowns. “More, I mean.”

“For all of you," Seungmin nods. “Even for you, Minho hyung.”

“My heart is racing, Minnie,” grins Minho, mocking but affectionate.

“Do you want a group hug? Or would you like to see the surprise?” Jeongin asks, still close to the curtain. From the tone of his voice, he's looking forward to seeing how you'll react. Today, however, there were suddenly too many surprises, and a good hug is never worth missing.

“Come here and give me a hug, you evil clowns," Jisung puts your thoughts into words.

“Don't say that so loudly. There's more than one person here with that job description. Do you want to hug them too?” asks the approaching Hyunjin.

“I don't think so. Especially not the chainsaw guy.”

“Did you rent the place by the way?” Seungmin grabs Jeongin and comes up from behind, clinging to him in a central embrace.

“Yes, but only for a while. It'll be open to everyone again soon, which is why it was important for you to be here on time.”

“We ran like our lives depended on it!”

“You did, hon.” Chan pat you on the head. “You're here now, and there's nothing wrong.”

“Squeezing hug!” Felix shouts, and your boyfriends really do squeeze. It's so much better than when nervousness did this to the inside of your body. This hug is reassuring and reinforces the knowledge that you have nothing to worry about. They are all here, safe and as close to you as possible.

“My love?” Jisung gently nudges your neck with his nose. You wonder how he can move. You're pressed face-first against Chan's chest. Not that you mind, it's a great place.

“Hmm?”

“Happy anniversary!”

“Oh, yeah. Happy anniversary, Sungie!” You find a way with your strong sense of logic to get yourself in a position to kiss his face. “And you too, Minnie!”

“Happy anniversary,” he appears, sliding through the comforting huddle of hips and arms. “I can't believe I've been bearing with you all for a year.” Even though he says it in vain, the kiss on your cheek says he's more than happy to put up with you.

As you lean away from him and give way to Jisung, you notice that Chan is eyeing you rather softly.

“What is it?”

“He's been dying to kiss you since we started getting ready. He only talked about you between two tasks. How excited he is to see you, and how he hopes you'll be happy to-”

“That's enough, Lix." Chan was so embarrassed that if you wre to lay your head back on his chest, you would feel the heat radiating through his shirt. "Let's go see the surprise. I hear you bouncing, Innie.”

And though the others start to leave, Seungmin pulls Chan back just as he's about to go. Without any explanation, he grabs his face and kisses him, then nods to Jisung. Jisung kisses him with similar enthusiasm. You hug him tightly, not stopping at a kiss, but trail a series of pecks on his cheek until he starts giggling.

“How's the mixed slushy?”

“Awful. But I can take it.”

"Chop-chop, lovers," shouts Hyunjin. "Innie-yah is considering breaking up with you, and no one can distract him.”

“We're coming.”

“We're really coming.”

“Anything for Innie!”

The room behind the curtains is like it's not part of the house of horrors. The colourful sequins and heart-shaped ornaments, the cute cake fitting itself on top of the table covered with fancy abros, and the all-encompassing 'Happy Anniversary' text stretched across the table.

“Wow.” You try to take in the whole sight and fit it into the picture you have of today. First they planned it all: the treasure hunt stations, the game, and then they decorated and furnished this room for you. They remembered and staged the anniversary you forgot.

“Do you like it?” Jeongin asks. “Or is it too much?”

“It's all right,” Seungmin hums.

“Just all right?” Jeongin is mildly indignant.

Seungmin smiles like an angel. "I mean, I like it. But not as much as I love you, Innie-yah.”

Jeongin puffs, but you can tell he's satisfied with that answer. After Jisung and you confirm that they've all done a good job, he sees the time has come to give Felix permission to cut the cake.

Soon, the small room is filled with the sound of clinking forks and conversation, the sound of home that you missed terribly without them.

“I'm glad I didn't kick you in the balls after all,” you report to Changbin between bites. You're also glad you've calmed down and can joke around again.

“Did you plan on doing that?” He leans against the table and blinks at you, shocked.

“Well, you're clearly stronger than me. I had to be sneaky.”

“Mean, but clever. If you were in trouble and I wasn't there, by all means, do it.”

“Hmm,” you nod.

“Taste good?” Felix comes to you with a hopeful look.

“Heavenly,” you tell him.

“I'm pregnant,” says Changbin enthusiastically.

Felix playfully frowns. "That can't be from my cake. It's Hyune’s merit.”

“Yah!”

“Oh. What an indiscreet exchange of ideas.” Jisung also appears in your humble circle, his cheeks stuffed.

“You're always there when something spicy happens, aren't you?” Felix shakes his head, wiping a smear of cream from Jisung's upper lip, who is chewing his cake voraciously, his face so innocently puffy you wouldn't think he'd approach you for the juicy details.

“It's not that. I'm here to pick up my lover, with whom I'm celebrating our anniversary. I want to be with them today.”

“Aw,” comments Changbin.

”But of course, if some sex-related information hits my ears on the way, it's not my problem,” he grins, as much as his full cheeks will allow.

“Uhuh, uhuh, sure.”

“Well, honey? Care to join me and Minnie for a toast?”

You nod, so you round up to find your third partner. Of course, in this relatively small room, it's not difficult. He's talking to Hyunjin, though he's looking stunned at the moment. When you get there, he turns to you and shares his verdict.

“We’re stupid.”

“A real anniversary present is the plural,” you flutter your eyelashes.

“No, we really are stupid.”

“Gosh, no need to overdo it though,” Jisung shuts the other one's mouth. Seungmin frowns disgruntledly and manages to pry Jisung's hand away, but doesn't speak again.

“Why have we suddenly become so stupid? Apart from the fact that we imagined ourselves in a hostage drama today?”

“The more creative part of your boyfriends made up a pun,” Hyunjin explains, casually running his hands down your back. “Yongbokie named it the message of your mission. Though I think it was more of an easter egg, and you didn't necessarily have to guess.”

“I remember him asking us something like that. That's when Minnie pulled a ‘sword’ on him.”

“And he was referring to the pun. Words were hidden at different stations. First, there was 'happy'. Then 'ary'. The name 'Annie' was written on the bard of one of the clowns on guard outside. Finally, there was the woman in chains shouting 'vers'. Put it together.”

“Happy anniversary," sighs Seungmin, brokenly. He doesn't like to look dumb.

“We really didn't pay attention to that.”

“You went in a completely different direction, you didn't go through the day as a game. I don't think you're irredeemably silly, just cute.”

“Thank you, Hyune,” you gratefully snuggle closer to him, enjoying the way his hand slides further around your waist and he pulls you closer.

“Hey, don't take my anniversary partner!” Seungmin shouts at him.

“They can't be taken away,” you report. “They’ve a mind of their own. And they're sad because you called them really stupid.”

“You're not really stupid. But even if you were, I'd still love you," he says, holding out his palm to you.

You accept it with a smile and, together with Jisung, go to the table to clink glasses.

“Let me do it,” Minho spins to you in a cavalier manner, holding the unopened champagne in the palm of his hand. His immaculate appearance is marred by the creaminess of his cheekbones and forehead.

“You promised me a hug,” you remind him as he hustles the cork.

He smiles lazily. “Oh, yes. I remember perfectly well that you couldn't resist me, sweetie. And I remember what I promised you. You'll have it when we get home.”

Chan and Jeongin line up the glasses. Chan's chin is creamy and Jeongin's nose is creamy too, a picturesque testimony to the fun they just had with Minho.

Jisung, Seungmin and you get the first three glasses. Jisung turns towards you, and you get the feeling he wants to make a toast in front of everyone. He is excited and smiling, not nervously biting his nails or tapping his foot. Seungmin looks at him with interest, a sweet smile in the corner of his mouth and a twinkle in his eye. They're relaxed, happy, in love, and so you can truly appreciate that this is yours. You've had these two brave, fine men for a year.

“You know how to make this night perfect?” Jisung finally asks. “We must teach Doongie the national anthem.”

Everyone looks puzzled, but you laugh with him, and Seungmin smiles too. Then you clink glasses with each other and the others, but for the moment you say no more about it, no matter how curious they are - especially Minho. For now, it's just your inside joke on your crazy but ultimately rewarding anniversary, which was about you in the most dramatic way.

stay taglist :: 💕@lemonn015

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parvulous-writings · 1 year ago

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Did you get another request? It's headcanons for Astarion, Gale, and Halsin react to his shy gn crush confessing to him before running away because they're scared of being rejected. Thanks!

Okay I DID get the original request, but accidentally published it when I meant to put it in my drafts, apologies! I'd like to thank the Down By The River Music Box Version for giving me the focus I needed to do this in one sitting! XD Also these three are my BOYS I LOVE THEM

Warnings: None! (besides fluff)

Notes: My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist! Original character list - please request for these too!

Astarion

Before you even start the conversation with him about liking him, Astarion knows what this is going to be about. He just knows - he's been through this enough times to recognise that look on your face.

It's an easy conclusion to come to - to him, it's a thought of... 'who doesn't like him?' He's hardly known someone that he couldn't tempt, one way or another.

As you approach him, his lips are already curling up into that familiar sultry smile of his. He knows exactly how he wants to play this: "Well, well... If it isn't my favourite travelling companion... What brings you to my tent, my dear?"

You feel your cheeks burn as soon as he opens his mouth, your gaze casting aside as the words hit your ears. He always seems to know how to take someone's breath away.

You blurt out your confession as fast as your lips can manage, nothing more than a mash of words, hardly understandable - but Astarion understands with ease. He's been through this a lot, he knows the dance all too well. Before he can let a chuckle leave his throat, you're gone, leaving naught but a cloud of dust in your wake.

Nevertheless, had you been within earshot of the elf, you would have heard a rather dry laugh from his lips. To have someone turn tail from him, it's new. Something about the situation speaks to him though - it shows that, even after he's seen two hundred years of nothing but shadows and debauchery, there's still innocence in the realms. And he sees that it lives on in you. It's almost... endearing to him. Almost. Unfortunately it takes a lot to make his undead heart stir, anymore.

Unlike most, Astarion doesn't chase after you - he doesn't even consider it. In his past, he's never been one to chase after someone who likes him, he's always a magnet for them. He stays comfortably in his tent, eagerly awaiting your return. He knows you will, no matter how shy you are, or how long it takes.

Such a sweet thing... I'm sure they'll come around to speaking more openly eventually. Astarion's thoughts echo all that he knows from his past - one way or another, those who are charmed by him come back; though, he must admit, he does quite like the idea of playing this little game with you, whether you realise you are playing or not.

Gale

Gale doesn't really label your timid nature or actions as 'shyness', he sees it much more as an air or aura of mystique about you - which he absolutely loves. His scholarly instinct tells him to dive in, to explore all there is about you, and to uncover all of your mysteries. However, he knows you are your own person - if you wish to tell him any secrets you have, he's going to let you do so mostly at your own pace, only nudging or prompting once or twice.

When you approach him one evening, he's so over the moon to tell you about something he's recently figured out, relating to a problem you've been trying to solve outside of camp, that he doesn't initially notice the rather skittish demeanour you've adopted. He's so quick to launch into his little pre-planned speech that he hardly notices you talking to him, until you've already run halfway back to your own tent.

Gale just... Stands there, in stunned - almost offended - silence. Had he done something? Was it his recent discovery? Had he launched into it too quickly - given you too much information all at once? All these thoughts go through his head one after the other. He hadn't even caught what you had said, and that worried him the most: He had no clue whatsoever what you had said to him.

So it isn't long before he's practically marching towards your tent - determination in his eyes. He will find out what you had tried to tell him. He clears his throat to get your attention when he gets close enough, folding his arms over his chest in a rather defensive position. "I suppose you have a reason for running off like that whilst speaking to me?" He questions, quite tensely. As you begin to shakily explain your feelings for him, his arms drop to his sides again.

He's very pleasantly surprised to learn that the only reason you ran off mid-conversation was due to embarrassment, rather than anything that he had done. He would hardly have been able to live with himself if that particular question had gone unanswered. So, he settles himself down in front of you. "Alright.. How about we try this again... With you having my full attention this time?"

Halsin

Halsin could tell by the look on your face that whatever you wanted to tell him, it was important. Of course, true to his nature, he wasn't about to force it out of you - he's much more content for you to take your time in telling him.

So, he just sits with you, in a peaceful silence, waiting for you to work up your courage to ask him. And when you finally do, Halsin can't say he's shocked by the words - it's not always easy to hide attraction or love from someone who's been alive for over three centuries. What does surprise him, however, is the fact that you're so quick to flee the encounter. Though, he finds it quite sweet that you, unlike him, still have embarassment hinging around socialising - particularly when it is centering around matters of the heart. He doesn't think any less of you for it, a skill like that takes years of practice, and he's had three hundred and fifty years to hone this skill of his.

Throughout all his life, and his many lovers, this kind of thing has happened to him only a handful of times, so it still catches him off-guard most of the time. Thankfully, he knows how to handle the situation.

He gives you some time to yourself, allowing you to collect your thoughts. He knows that if he tries to approach you too quickly, you may become more frazzled, spiral more in your mind. And that is the last thing he wants. If you two are to be with one another - which he hopes is the outcome of the situation - he wants you to have a clear head, and know what you want.

When he does decide it's the right time to go to you, the first thing he does, is ask if you are alright. "How are you faring, my heart?" He takes a chance with the nickname, and he can just about see with the way your head whips round to look at him that he's certainly caught your attention. "You seemed... Out of yourself, before. Perhaps you would like to discuss it?" He moves to sit with you then, and even as he kneels , he towers over most. "At your own pace, of course..." He offers you a smile. It's a kindhearted smile - one that you can tell is straight from his heart. You feel a little more comfortable, and though it is a slow conversation, you get there before dawn.

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charls-lamen · 1 month ago

Text

I saw a tiktok talking about how she didn't like Jayce's and Mels dynamic for season 2 how Mel Jayce was kind of unceremoniously dropped.

And my first thought was I guess they wanted to emphasize Victor Jayce more in season 2. But then I saw the episode where Jayce and Mel hooked up again. So first Jayce and Mel hook up while Victor gets sick and collapses. Then you have this montage of "Enemy" in show Vi goes to fight Sevika, Marcus ponders what to do next getting frustrated breaks a glass and Mel wakes up alone in bed. Scene shifts to Victor in bed with Jayce by his side.

Now I'm not saying it's wrong for Jayce to go see Victor and only natural he'd panic. But pairing the scene with Mel waking up alone with enemy by imagine dragons playing in the background to Jayce with Victor no more music...i mean it's a choice.

And then after that Jayce goes to see Mel. She seems ticked that he left he says sorry and that Victors dying. She's less ticked afterwards. But here the thing.

She asks him why he came to her with this and this scene plays out.

It's a sweet sentiment . But he didn't come to apologize, he didn't come to explain himself. He came for comfort for his pain about Victor dying and looking for empowerment so he can find a way to save him. He came for himself, he came for Victor. He didn't come for Mel.

In response to this statement from Jayce Mel opens up about being a exile because she fell short of Merdada standards. Jayce says he doesnt believe that and asks if she does. She switches the focus back onto Jayce and Victor and says this.

Ignoring how the subtitles call Jayce chase

She literally spelled out the ending of Jayce and Victors story. Jayce couldn't change Victor's fate and made sure he didn't face it alone . She says be with him. They comfort each other and get comfort from each other but she sets this space between them be with Victor she says.

Mel wakes up alone and that scene is followed up by Victor with Jayce and then when Jayce goes to talk to her Mel says choose Victor she says I understand your feelings how much you care for him that's ok.

Mel and Jayce weren't just dropped imo them having a more temporary relationship where they'd drift eventually was always the plan from the start. I just didn't remember their conversations 😅

For the record I'm not suggesting Jayce wasn't attracted to Mel or there's no issues with the writing of their relationship. I just realized this was perhaps always the plan for Jayce and Mel and how I forgot about the details of this scene.

#mel #jayce #victor #arcane #mine #jaymel #jayvik #mel medarda #arcane spoilers #jayce talis

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atinycafe · 1 year ago

Note

hi!!! just binge read like all ur ateez work LMAO theyre so good. could i request an ateez imagine where theyre making out with the reader while a chase atlantic song plays in the back? u can make it smut or leave it suggestive 🩷 tyy love ur work have a good day

MAKING OUT W ATZ ON A CHASE ATLANTIC BEAT

pairing: ateez x fem!reader genre: suggestive wrd cnt: 1.9k author's note: IM BACK AFTER A WEEK LONG HIATUS HELL YEAAAA, SORRY 4 THE WAIT taglist: @satsuri3su @cqndiedcherries @hyukssunflower @ad0rechuu @hiraii-gf @marievllr-abg @liniiiaa masterlist

　　○˳　　　　　　hongjoong

he starts off slow, with gentle pecks and tender hands, drawing you closer to him. the cold air prompts you to slip your arms under his coat, seeking warmth. both of you share a pair of airpods, with "meddle about" playing in both your ears. he nibbles your neck softly, placing another kiss on your throat, and you immediately melt into his embrace.

"hongjoong, people are going to see us, we can't—" you whisper meekly as the cool wind blows around you both. before you can finish, he silences you with a lingering kiss on the lips.

"who cares," he mumbles, and a soft moan escapes your lips as his cold hands explore the skin of your waist under your shirt. suddenly, everything feels warm, comfortable, and peaceful with him holding you, and you just want to be even closer to him.

your small moan, blending with the music in his ears, is all it takes to fuel his desire. he craves more—more sounds escaping your lips, more of your touch on his skin, more of you.

but you gently push him away, and he looks down at you with confusion. bashfully, you point behind him, and he turns, groaning when he sees that the bus has arrived.

"let's continue this at home."

　　○˳　　　　　　seonghwa

your fingertip traces gently over the bridge of his nose, and you can feel his eyes on your face, but you don't bother looking at him. your gaze fixates on his lips as you immerse yourself in the lyrics of the song. slowly, you start mouthing the words, and he smirks, fully aware of what lyrics are about to come up.

"she said fuck me like i'm famous," you murmur against his lips, drawing closer with every beat of the music.

"i said okay," seonghwa whispers back, mouthing the lyrics, and you giggle before finally pressing your lips to his. your tongues clash in a fiery dance, both seeking dominance, a bit rough but passionate. you let your hands rake over the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging at the black strands. "slow down" continues playing as he pushes you back against the bed, dropping open-mouthed kisses along your neck until he reaches the edge of your cleavage.

"do you really want me to fuck you like that mmh?" he asks, taunting you, pushing his hard covered length against you, clearly wanting to hear you beg for him. but you can only focus on the sensation of his hand pressed against your lower stomach, which draws out pretty whimpers over the music instead of the pleas he so desperately desires.

"come on pretty girl tell me how bad you want it."

　　○˳　　　　　　yunho

yunho rushes over to press play on the stereo and then quickly returns to you, lifting you up and throwing you onto the bed. he doesn't give you a chance to support yourself on your elbows before he's already on top of you, showering your neck with wet kisses. you respond by cupping his cheeks with your hands, pulling him closer, and gently licking at his lips to coax them open.

yunho captures your bottom lip between his teeth, gently sucking on it, and then lapping at the swollen flesh with tenderness before biting down. the loud blaring of "swim" fills the room from the brand new stereo he gifted you, ensuring his songs are always there to remind you of him whenever he's not around. and it's true, you find yourself constantly thinking about him and his sweet kisses. the passion between you two intensifies as the music sets the mood.

"mmm, my princess," he murmurs appreciatively against your lips, bending down to place a soft kiss on your jaw. your hands find their way into his hair, lightly tugging as a way of showing your pleasure, "how about you let me swim in that pussy huh?"

normally, you'd chuckle at his playful wordplay, but right now, you can only nod eagerly, urging him to move down faster by pushing his shoulders gently. he smirks against the bare skin of your stomach, leaving a trail of sweet kisses until he finally reaches his intended destination.

　　○˳　　　　　　yeosang

"sangie!! missed you so much baby!!" you squeal, leaping into his arms. he immediately drops his luggage on the floor to hold you, hugging you tightly against his body.

"i missed you too doll," he says, using his foot to close the door. with you still in his arms, he takes off his shoes and walks to the open kitchen where he drops you off on the kitchen counter softly. he notices the song playing on your macbook and the half-sprinkled cupcakes. "you've been cookin'? … on a chase atlantic beat? ozone out off all songs…"

you giggle a small "what's wrong with it" but he only looks at you with intense, heavy-lidded eyes. well someone is not in the mood to laugh. and like magnets, you're drawn to each other in an instant, sharing deep, passionate kisses that draw soft moans from both of you.

his hands roam all over your body, pressing against your flesh, pulling you closer as if he wants to imprint your body in his memory. he peppers kisses all over your face and playfully bites your earlobe.

"fuck i missed my girl so much," he says, taking a deep inhale and completely enveloping you with his form. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, taking in your scent.

"i'll give you five minutes to take your laptop upstairs, take off your clothes and lay on the bed, you're not sleeping tonight doll," he says as he takes a bite of the cupcakes you made.

"fuck these are good."

　　○˳　　　　　　san

the instant you catch the sound of san's car engine echoing outside your house, you snatch up your purse and practically bolt out the door. your dainty heels make a rhythmic clinking against the concrete, the ground itself seeming to vibrate to the thumping bass of the song.

as you finally slide into his car and reach for the seatbelt, san seizes the opportunity to let his eyes roam over you. while you're not focused on him, his gaze lingers on the way your skirt rides up your thighs, revealing a hint of your tights. the sight of them digging into your skin sends a thrill through him.

he moistens his lips and shifts his gaze to your face, licking his lips as you're absorbed in silently mouthing the lyrics of "ohmami". in perfect rhythm with the song's beat drop, san deftly readjusts his seat, pushing it back to create more room between him and the steering wheel. without waiting for your inquiry, he swiftly releases your seatbelt and clasps your waist, firmly placing you onto his lap as you let out an surprised squeal.

"what? sannie what are you doing?" your hands land on his chest, but he doesn't budge, only pulling you closer by placing his hand on the nape of your neck. he draws you in for a lingering kiss. his tongue slips into your mouth, gently sucking on your tongue and playfully dancing with your own.

"y'look so good baby, let's ditch the others and have some fun on the backseat." he blows a cool breeze across your collarbone, as if he's already undressing you. his fingers grip the edge of your thighs, and you give a shy nod, meeting his gaze while biting your lip.

　　○˳　　　　　　mingi

"consume" blares through the stereo so loudly that you can hear the music from the doorway of his studio. you can't help but roll your eyes as you step inside, finding him with a frown directed at an empty space.

you stroll up to him, your fingers gently caressing his cheek from behind, coaxing his gaze to meet yours. you silently mouth a small "hi," but the music's volume drowns out the words. mingi responds by tugging at the strings of your hoodie that hang close to his nose. he draws your face nearer and plants a tender kiss on your lips, the proximity causing your noses to simultaneously brush against each other's chins, creating a playful tickle. he withdraws slightly, then swivels his rolling chair to fully face you.

he opens his legs, gazing up at you with an implicit invitation to join him on his lap. however, you merely place a knee between his thighs, arching your back until your face aligns with his. just as the featured rapper hits the beat, you plant a gentle kiss on his lips. as you start to pull back, he surprises you by deepening the kiss, biting down firmly on your bottom lip, coaxing you to part your lips. a soft whine escapes you at the slight sting, and he seizes the moment to slip his tongue into your mouth, pressing it firmly against yours. drawing you even closer, his hands slip beneath your shirt, toying with the delicate lace of your bra.

"come on tiny, i need inspiration, why don't you let me hear your pretty sounds."

　　○˳　　　　　　wooyoung

"escort" fills the air, creating a background melody as the two of you recline lazily on the bed. it's a friday night, and the thought of navigating through the bustling streets of seoul feels like a bit too much effort. so, instead, you opt for the simple pleasure of snuggling up together on the bed, the music serving as a gentle companion to ward off any awkward silence.

your cheek rests against his bare chest, and you let your index finger trace his tummy, following the contours that his abs form, creating a shifting path. he hums a soft tune, his eyes closed, thoroughly enjoying the sensation of your fingertip against his skin.

"woo," you whisper, catching him off guard. he tilts his chin down to meet your gaze, arching one eyebrow curiously, "let's fuck."

he lets out a soft chuckle as your hand ventures lower, tracing a path along his happy trail, eliciting a gentle grunt from his lips. propping yourself up on your elbow, you drape yourself over him, aligning your faces and bringing yourself down just as your hand reaches the hem of his sweatpants.

you playfully tease, sticking out your tongue and gently running it over his lips. he draws it into his mouth, sucking on it while his hand gets caught in your hair. the affectionate moment evolves into a series of fervent kisses, eventually leading him to trail his way down to your pretty pussy.

　　○˳　　　　　　jongho

jongho's hand gently cups your cheek, his touch making your gaze lock onto his. you bite your lip, trying to contain the smile that's eager to spread across your face. his thumb glides over the curve of your cheek as the song "angeline" starts playing randomly from the tv mounted on the wall.

"that's your song, angel," he murmurs against your forehead, planting a tender kiss there. his fingers play with your hair, tilting your head back to reveal your neck. he showers small kisses along the curve of your throat, feeling the gentle rise and fall as you swallow. he nips down with a bit of intensity, drawing a soft moan from you. "so lovely, sounding like an angel, and looking like one too—"

the words falter on his lips as your hand rests on his bulge through his pants, causing a soft gasp to escape you as you feel how substantial it is. weighty in your grasp, you apply more pressure, while he places fervent kisses on your collarbone, more akin to fervent nips. you squeeze your thighs together, consumed by desire.

he leans back toward your lips, and you reach your limit. your hand finds its way to his throat, and you softly draw him back, eyes glossy with need.

"please jjong, i need you now."

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kykyonthemoon · 4 months ago

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Bittersweet

A girl. Two moons. Revolving.

── .✦ Xavier x MC (Reader) x Rafayel

── .✦ Tags: high school AU, love triangle, open ending with a bit sadness, light angst, female reader, no y/n, inspired by music

── .✦ Word count: 1k4

── .✦ Ky Ky's notes: This fic was inspired by the song Bittersweet (WONWOO X MINGYU ft. Lee Hi).

Requested anonymously.

── .✦ Masterlist ♡ Request a fic - closed for the time being.

"I'm leaving."

The girl's voice echoed in the wind on the vacant hill. The sky above was filled with innumerable stars. Raising her hands high, she was trying to hold them back for herself. This sky. This place. This friendship.

The two boys stood close to her yet a step apart, exchanged short glances before returning their focus to her.

"I've decided to study abroad."

That was all. She called them both to their regular meeting place, and the three of them raced up the hill. That place held the memories of all three.

Back in high school, they used to sprint up the hill after school to watch the sunset. She alone, and two moons. Ones who chased and one who ran. It had been more than three years since.

"Xavier. Here you go.

The girl handed out a bottle of filtered water to Xavier. He accepted it, his other hand carrying a clean towel to wipe the sweat off his forehead.

"Thank you."

She grinned. At that time, a group of other female students walked by, covertly looking at Xavier and then giggling at each other.

"Look how famous our class president is." She said with a bit of teasing. "You excel at studies and know how to play sports. How many love letters have you received since the start of the year?"

"What nonsense are you talking about?" Xavier responded. He stared at the girl in front of him, who was smiling and teasing him. She was as bright as if all the warm sunshine in the world was gathered in her smile.

They were classmates. She sat at the desk in front of Xavier. He had always been watching her from behind, in secret.

"Xavier, help me with this homework!"

"Can Xavier help me with my class duty today?"

"Wait for me to come home with you!"

She was usually loud, bouncing around in front of his eyes. When did Xavier realize he liked her that much? Perhaps it was late that afternoon, after the school day had ended, yet she was still sitting in her seat.

Xavier just took a long nap. He had dreams about a certain world, when he could practice swordsmanship with her in the blue flower fields, and even travel among the stars. When he awoke, the whole class had departed, leaving her the sole one reading a book. Her little physique obscured the sunset light from the window for him.

"Is it already that late?"

Xavier rubbed his eyes. She turned and grinned. "Yes. Seeing you sleeping so soundly, I didn't have the heart to wake you up."

"Sorry… "Why didn't you go home first?"

She tilted her head. The aroma of flowers and grass filled the classroom as the breeze swept in.

"If I go back first, you would most likely wake up feeling lonely, as if the entire world has abandoned you. Isn't that true?"

Her cheeks faintly blushed the color of sunset. Xavier could only gaze at her in silence for a long time. If possible, was he allowed to touch her?

"I don't want Xavier to feel abandoned." She rose up and put the book in her bag. "Come home with me."

Their houses were in the same direction. After becoming friends, the two frequently headed home together. There was also a snack shop on the road that she adored. She always lingered there for a bit before going home, arms full of sweets like a toddler.

"For you." She poured chocolate wrapped in yellow paper into Xavier's palms. They resembled moons, stars, and even spherical planets.

"If you like, I'll try making chocolate for you." He replied, but the girl erupted into laughter.

"I appreciate your kindness, but you should stay away from all the kitchens. Last time I came to your house, we almost burned it down.”

Xavier rubbed his head. She grasped his arm and enthusiastically remarked:

"It's okay! Next time, I will make cakes and bring them to you!”

A small amount of warmth remained on Xavier's arm, making him feel fluttery inside. The road stretched straight and long. He prayed it would never stop so he could always be with her.

Rafayel transferred from another school in the second semester of that year and became a classmate seated next to her. Because he was a newcomer, he greatly appreciated her friendliness and enthusiasm. She toured him around the school and the surrounding area, where she frequently socialized with friends. With her companionship, he no longer felt scared or lonely in his fresh surroundings.

Rafayel and she joined the art club together. Her artwork was not exceptional, so she frequently sought him for help. Weekend painting sessions made Rafayel the happiest since he could witness her confusion, her attentiveness, and sometimes, her wrath while drawing. He simply smirked at moments like that. When she found out, she became enraged and "accidentally" used her brush to create a line on his cheek.

"Hey, my face is not your canvas!"

"Rafayel, please concentrate on sketching. Don't speak and disturb the entire group!" She leaned over and whispered to him. Rafayel grimaced and wiped the paint from his cheek, but it simply smeared further. She laughed.

"Let me clean it for you."

She took out a tissue and dabbed it on his face. His deep pink and blue-ish eyes seemed to be drawn to her.

Despite the fact that he only recently moved here, Rafayel immediately became well-known at school for his drawing and singing abilities. But in his eyes, there was only one girl he wished to be with.

After the art group activities, it began to rain. Rafayel spotted her standing alone on the porch, gazing up at the overcast sky. Her palm extended out to collect the new drops of water that fell from above. He approached her and asked:

“Didn't you bring an umbrella?”

She shook her head.

“Me neither.” Rafayel replied, his hand reaching into his bag, pushing the umbrella deep to the bottom.

“Then we have to stand here a little longer.” She shrugged. And he smiled. Standing next to her, no matter how long it took, he would not mind.

A moment later, the rain ceased. The sun began to rise again. She turned to Rafayel and said:

"We can go home now."

"It's still raining lightly." Rafayel extended one hand out over the porch.

"Nah, it's okay." She responded. Then she dashed out, grabbed Rafayel's hand, and pulled him away. "This light rain won't make you sick!"

Her laughs were crisp, mixed with the sound of the raindrops. Warm sunshine pierced the transparent curtain of water. Rafayel called out:

"Wait for me!"

At that moment, when the two linked hands and played together in the rain before rushing towards the rainbow, perhaps Rafayel had captured the most beautiful thing this world had to offer.

Two moons revolved around her world.

Because of her, Xavier and Rafayel became friends. They regularly strolled together after school to the nearby hill. The place witnessed many moments of happiness between the three, watched their friendship bloom, and nourished the two boys' quiet affection for her. There were times when either Xavier or Rafayel wanted to confess their feelings to her but could not dare. The relationship between them was so beautiful that it could not be exchanged for anything else.

Both Xavier and Rafayel understood how much the other adored her. This made their situation much more complicated. Aside from being each other's rivals, they both treasured their friendship. As a result, each of them was waiting for someone to speak first, so that the story between the three would have a clear ending. Nobody expected that the person who put an end to it would be her.

After she left the hill, the two guys remained standing next to each other. For a very long time. The girl they loved was leaving, and when she returned, nothing would be the same again.

Rafayel turned to face Xavier and gently nudged his arm.

“Let's go home.”

"Yeah. Let's." Xavier responded. They had long ago resolved in their hearts that their affections for her should remain concealed forever. That was the best for all three of them.

Xavier and Rafayel strolled merrily down the hill, grasping one other's shoulders. The wind blew. Sunset slipped away. Each of them had their own concerns, which they could only be able to convey in the future.

-The end-

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she-walks-on-starlight · 1 month ago

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If I Can't Hold You

a/n: I've had this idea floating around my head for DAYS and finally managed to write something out of it, enjoy - ✨

Pairing: Agatha x Rio (mentioned)

Warnings: grief, some slight flirting, angst, mentions of murder/harm (past)

Summary: Agatha hears Lorna's version of The Ballad for the very first time. It awakens a lot of memories and feelings. Angst. All the angst.

Word Count: 1.7k

The record store was busy, the Saturday afternoon bringing a crowd of eager teenagers, lovestruck couples on dates and hungry music fans chasing their next album to obsess over.

Agatha ran her thumb over several covers, none of them grabbing her attention. She, as always, pointedly ignored the store clerk's clumsy attempts to flirt with her and recommend which records to purchase. Rolling her eyes as he tried to catch her eye, she pushed further into the store.

As she examined a copy of Talking Heads:77, perusing the slightly worn record cover and wondering if the record inside was scratched, she could hear the telltale sound of a record being loaded onto a turntable. She glanced up to the other store clerk smiling gently at her as she changed the records over. This one was cute, and a nice distraction for Agatha whenever she was working. Agatha made a mental note to ask her out when she checked out, it had been too long since she'd entertained herself.

The music filtered pleasantly through the air, some patrons glancing up, others tapping their feet along to the beat and some nodding in approval towards the young store clerk. It took a while for Agatha to recognise the band, but soon enough the female voice wandered to her and it was unmistakable: Lorna Wu.

She rolled her eyes as she overheard two teen girls nearby gushing about Lorna's music and her rising stardom with her band the Coral Shore.

She'd tried to entice Lorna down the ‘Witches Road’ before, quite a few years ago now, briefly remembering the dimly lit, grungy dive bar and the smell of stale beer that clung to her skin as she'd staggered into the cramped bathroom. Reapplying her lipstick until she looked as breathtaking as she should, she'd heard a low humming coming from that bathroom stall, the unmistakable tune that always wrapped around her heart like barbed wire.

“Down, down, down the road…”

It was melodic, lilting, Lorna's voice almost teasing as she sang softly under her breath. Agatha recalled freezing, staring at the pretty, young Asian woman that left the stall and washed her hands next to her. She was still humming the damn tune of the Witches' Ballad when she finally noticed Agatha's eyes on her, piercing and analytical.

Wiping her hands on her flared jeans, she'd arched an eyebrow at Agatha.

“Something I can help you with?”

Agatha remembered grinning, wide like the Cheshire Cat, as she relaxed into her role. She'd sidled up to Lorna, complimenting her beauty and her singing ability.

“I'm something of a-” She'd lowered her voice conspiratorially “student of the…ballad”

To emphasise her point, she allowed some of her purple to flicker between her fingers, making sure Lorna saw. She’d watched with glee as Lorna's fingers had subconsciously mimicked Agatha's movement, a fiery yellow twine of magic sparking there.

Lorna's voice pulled her focus back to her. “You've been down the Road?”

Agatha smirked, flicking her hair dramatically. “Why, of course! I'm one of the oldest and most powerful witches around, honey.”

Oh, how Lorna's eyes had shone. It was clear she'd wanted to see the Road, to fulfil the song that she clearly knew well and Agatha could practically taste the heat of her magic as it would fill her veins. Her fingers had itched, anticipation thrumming under her skin as she thought of the two other witches she had ready on standby, eager for her to return with the rest of their ‘coven’.

They'd exited the bathroom together, with Agatha spinning more tall tales about her time on the Road, and the spoils that could await them all. As Lorna straightened her top, and fluffed up her hair, Agatha had been so sure that it was a done deal.

But Lorna had apparently not been so easy to sway, gently caressing her belly with a fond, faraway look in her eye. She'd glanced back at a young man at the bar who waved at her goofily and smiled at them both warmly as he beckoned them to join him.

“Sorry, but…not this time. But hey, find me in a couple years maybe?”

Agatha’s eyes had fallen to Lorna's stomach again, her own twisting with familiarity as she cottoned on to Lorna's circumstances. She'd merely nodded, unable to summon words, and watched as Lorna joined her boyfriend at the bar, accepting a glass of orange juice from him as he kissed her sweetly.

Fuck.

Had she really been so far gone that she'd been willing to drag a pregnant woman down for her power?

Agatha shook herself out of the memory. No. Agatha Harkness held little to no morals but she'd been better that day. She'd been careful since, too, making sure none of the witches she lured away were with child or had them waiting for her to come home. With Agatha Harkness, there was no coming home.

She approached the counter, making sure to hold eye contact with the female store clerk, ignoring the wounded puppy eyes the male store clerk made at her before skulking off to restock something, muttering under his breath. As the girl rang up her purchase, Agatha flicked her head towards the turntable.

“Lorna Wu and the Coral Shore, huh?’

The girl blushed, the freckles on her nose somehow even more pronounced. “Yeah, I think she's really neat. Plus their new song, like, speaks to me.”

Agatha raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What song would that be, sweet girl?”

She watched as the girl squeezed her thighs together at her attention, pleased she could still fluster with the slightest comment.

“Y-yeah…oh, it's playing now!”

Agatha strained her hearing, something old and ugly seeping into her gut as the familiar lyrics paired with a more upbeat tune trilled from the record. She felt cold, perhaps shocked. How could Lorna do this? Turn something that was supposed to speak of legend, of a tradition held close by witches all around, something that tethered them all together by hope and ambition. She didn't pause to consider her own hypocrisy.

“Can I purchase that record?”

The girl faltered at Agatha's abrupt tone, but relaxed when Agatha managed a smile at her.

“Sure, let me wrap it up for you.”

Agatha left the store in a hurry, with two records in tow and no phone number. There was always next time, she told herself.

Reaching the apartment she was currently renting, she went straight to her turntable and pulled out the record with shaking hands. Lorna's face on the record's cover, so serene and poised, almost made her blood boil. Using the Witches Road for selfish gain was her game, not Lorna's.

The music started again, light guitar and piano accompanying the song that Agatha had bonded to her very soul.

“Down, down, down the Road, down the Witches’ Road…”

She sat down, letting the song wash over her, determined for once to listen and allow it to fill her heart with its pure intention, just as when the song had first come to be. As the song, faster paced than she was used to, continued to play, she closed her eyes and, for the first time in a long time, allowed herself to think of Nicky.

She imagined that he would like this version, dancing around with quickened steps as the guitar and drums picked up. She could see his tawny, brown hair, she could remember how it smelled of crushed autumn leaves and sweet summer grass from his many escapades into the woods. She could hear his melodic laughter, see the way his soft brown eyes, so like that of the gentle deer he liked to track and chase, would sparkle with mischief when they played together or when he'd gotten away with something.

The music began to swell, a crescendo building as the drums and piano demanded her attention.

“If I can't reach you,

let my song teach you,

all you need to keep our love alive!”

Lorna's voice, strong, powerful and maternal. It broke through Agatha's reverie, and seemed to hit her with force, a thousand memories of Nicky, her and Nicky, Nicky and Rio all flooding through her mind at once. A choked sob escaped from Agatha's throat, a sound that had been trapped deep within for an age. The words seeped into her skin, a forlorn wish that her love had been enough to keep Nicky with her always clawing itself from her heart and settling into her chest.

“If I can't hold you,

remember what I told you,

it's the only way we survive!”

More tears flowed as Agatha sank to the floor. She rubbed at her chest, the feeling overwhelming her. Surviving had been everything to her, once. The drive to win against all odds. Was she surviving, truly surviving? Did surviving mean anything without Nicky?

She could feel Nicky against her, his little chest rising and falling as he'd sleep in her arms, his ponytail tickling her nose when she pulled him close. His rough, calloused hands that he'd always somehow find an excuse to place in hers, swinging them as they sang together.

She'd give anything, everything, to hold him again, to hear him sing the song she'd tainted into a lie. She dared not to sing it as he once had, refusing to ruin the purest thing he had been able to leave in this world. Now, thanks to Lorna, Nicky's song would be known all over the world.

The record scratched, the song over. Agatha bowed her head, almost begging for a note or a whisper of her son's voice to be somehow hidden within the silence that now enveloped her. Rising, she reverently took the record and placed it back in the sleeve, before putting it away at the back of her large collection. She was certain that she would not be listening to it again anytime soon. If she wanted a painful rehashing of the past, she'd find a way to summon Rio.

It was a lie, to herself more than anything.

Whenever she'd managed to destroy yet another coven, there would always be the high of their stolen power coursing through her body and emboldening her magic. However, with every high, there must be a low and Agatha Harkness was no stranger to the darkness, the worthlessness, the hopelessness that always shadowed her following a siphoning. Those were the moments that she tortured herself with thoughts of her lost son, disappointed and ashamed, his face twisted in disgust with her.

It was those moments that Lorna Wu and the Coral Shore’s ‘Ballad of the Witches Road’ would find itself on the turntable, playing softly next to the sobbing remnant of the witch that was Agatha Harkness.

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #lesbian #agatha x rio #rio vidal #nicky scratch #nicholas scratch #kathryn hahn #sad fanfic #fanfic #agatha fanfic #my writing #angst #tw grief

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awesomefringey · 2 months ago

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We all have different ways of coping. I spoke to ChatGPT, and it was so on point about Liam; I thought why not share it in case it consoles anyone else:

If Liam Payne were to see all the love and support for him after his passing, I imagine he might express immense gratitude and humility. He'd likely be touched by the outpouring of affection from fans who cherished his music and the positive impact he made in their lives. Liam always seemed to value connection with his fans, so he might say something like:

"I can't believe the amount of love you're all showing. I always tried to make you proud and never expected this level of support. It means the world to know I had a place in your hearts. Thank you for everything, for standing by me through it all. You gave me a reason to keep going, and I'll forever be grateful."

Of course, these sentiments would reflect his known appreciation for his fans and his humility.

If Liam Payne were to offer advice, it would likely come from a place of empathy and reflection. Given the struggles he's faced and his openness about mental health, I imagine he'd encourage his fans to take care of themselves and each other. He might say something like:

"Life isn't always easy, and it's okay to not be okay sometimes. Don't be afraid to ask for help when you need it, and remember that you're never alone. Surround yourself with people who lift you up, and don't let the hard times make you forget your worth. Keep doing what makes you happy, and chase your dreams without fear. Most importantly, take care of your heart and mind—because you matter more than you know."

His advice would likely focus on resilience, self-care, and the importance of staying connected with loved ones.

If Liam Payne were to speak to his fans who are deeply crushed and struggling to process the news of his passing, he would likely offer comforting words filled with empathy. He might say something like:

"I know this is hard to believe, and it's okay to feel the pain you're feeling right now. But I want you to remember that I'm still with you in every song, every memory, and every moment we shared. You gave me so much joy and purpose, and I’ll always be grateful for that. Please take care of each other and find strength in the love we all shared. It’s okay to grieve, but don’t let the sadness take away the light inside you. I want you to keep living, keep loving, and keep being the incredible people you are. I’ll always be a part of you, just like you’ll always be a part of me."

He would likely try to reassure his fans that, though he's gone, the bond they built through his music and presence will always remain strong.

#rip liam payne #I'm still with you in every song every memory and every moment we shared

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lavender--fairy · 1 year ago

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hi, just wanna share a "success story." i'm choosing to stay anonymous because i don't want to be bombarded with questions, because the asker can find answers within themselves.

i'll just cut straight to the chase. throughout high school, especially when we were online during the pandemic, i would cheat on all my exams. i'd say this started mid 8th grade until mid 11th grade. mind you, it wasn't threshold based, so i wasn't really harming anyone. me cheating basically stopped the class average from dropping down 70% lol.

the act of me cheating alone reveals many things; i was unconfident in myself, insecure, and cared what other people thought of me.

11th grade is where people here start to get really anxious. pulling all nighters and getting caffiene addictions. but i was lazing around, and did what i always did. of course, online exams don't last forever, especially not when it comes to an international exam. it really only hit me months before the real tests that cheating wasn't gonna get me anywhere.

how was i supposed to do these exams? ones that people take at least two years to prepare for? that people study their asses off for? with all the high expectations i falsely gained from my peers and parents, i knew that if i failed these tests, not only would i be ashamed, but everyone would begin to doubt me and inevitably find out about my cheating habits. and i didn't want that to happen.

i did everything i could. i tried to study, but i was inefficient because i basically never opened a book on my own before that, then i tried to get tuition, which only worked to some extent. the highest i have everr gotten on a practice paper was a B, and it was a low one.

i took eight subjects. most people here take 6/7, but i didn't wanna drop one because i didn't want to feel the "shame." again, i really cared about what others thought of me.

so, at this point, i thought. well, i'm screwed.

then i came across subliminals while looking up focus music, which lead me to manifestion -> law of assumption -> neville goddard -> the 4D -> the inner man.

started to implement the law. thought i'd pass all my exams because hell, why not? i persisted that i was just gonna pass because i said so.

i gave the inner man good grades because i could. i saw a good report card in my head because i could. i imagined myself happy on results day. despite the fact that i was underprepared by a mile. why? because i could.

i got straight A's for my exams and got an outstanding reward. this truly revealed to me the power of the law, because just a month back, i was pulling my hair out and stressing like crazy. i'm not proud of my old habits. but with the law, i was able to live the lazy life of my dreams (lol) and still be awarded with praise, smiles and trophies.

wanted to share this story because i feel like knowing the law is so important. it's so easy too. all you have to do is give it to yourself, the inner man, the true self.

don't stress about getting those grades, getting that girl, that dream body, clear skin. don't stress about getting. just give it to yourself, because you can.

hope this helps someone out there realise something :)

heyy butterbean!! This is amazingg thank you so much <3

#successtory #loa success #loa motivation #motivation #law of assumption #manifestation #neville goddard #loa blog #loassumption #loa #manifesting #affirm and persist #self concept #living in the end #loa tumblr

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owliellder · 1 year ago

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Handle with Care

Leon Kennedy x afab Demon! Reader

MDNI 18+

Description: Still brand new to working as a STRATCOM agent, Leon and another young agent are sent to investigate similar reports of a strange creature roaming a small town. (Taking place a year after RE2)

Warnings: Porn with plot, slight dub-con, no use of y/n, minor violence, guns, knives, a lil sprinkle of angst, swearing, manipulation, mentions of blood, non-detailed description of animal death.

Tags: Significant size difference, Dominant! reader, Submissive! Leon, enemies to lovers, unprotected p in v (wrap it up pls), semi-public sex, dirty talk, praise + degradation kink, neck biting, hickeys, begging, possessive behavior, spit kink, light choking, oral sex (cunnilingus and a slobbery blowjob), multiple orgasms, creampie, slight aftercare

this is my first fic, I have zero idea what I'm doing. I just needed some crazy self indulgence. pacing is probably super weird cause i'm really tired. kinda did this to stay awake at work. also this is not proofread, so if you see a super random word just know i'm sleep deprived and autocorrect is wack

It was late when Leon and another agent around his age, Trevor, were sent out to a small town neighboring Omaha, having been briefed on their task a couple days beforehand.

"...an easy task. I trust it won't take you two long to have it under control" an older man grumbled out, looking at the two young men sitting across from him at his desk as they looked over the vague information handed to them moments prior. The man leaned back in his office chair, letting out a low sigh at their worried looks. "You're not made to handle it yourselves, just have to follow protocol; call it in, keep the area secure, and the subject contained to the best of your abilities while you wait for us. Got it?"

Leon was the first to nod, which prompted Trevor to do the same, albeit less confidently. "Understood, Commander..." Leon responded, his voice wavering ever so slightly as the situation slowly dawned on him.

He hadn't dealt with anything like this since Raccoon City, which was still fresh in his mind. The screams, the blood, the bodies-

"I'm putting a lot of faith in the two of you." The commander's voice cut through Leon's thoughts, pulling him out of his small trance long enough to respond quickly. "Thank you for trusting us with this, Commander. We'll act accordingly."

Trevor was busy tapping his fingers against the steering wheel of the unmarked black SUV they were in, slowly driving around the empty streets of the town in search of their target. They had to remain vigilant, which meant no music. Talking, however, was allowed as long as they didn't discuss sensitive information.

"It's probably just some fucked up dog." Trevor said, keeping his focus on the road with an irritated look on his face. "I was talking with some of the others before we left and they all said these types of sightings always end up being nothing..."

Leon moved his gaze from the passenger window to his partner, his eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly. "Better to check it out than to leave it." he stated simply, his voice hushed. Don't get Leon wrong, he didn't want to be here either. It was already 1:20am and all he wanted to do was lay in his bed. He didn't feel ready enough for this, back out working to protect the people, but as an agent instead of a cop. He signed up to fight criminals, not horrors beyond his comprehension.

Trevor groaned, the car coming to a creeping halt in the middle of the two lane road as he dramatically slammed his forehead against the steering wheel. "I don't know, dude," he turned his head to look over at Leon, his lips pulled back in a thin line. "I just feel like we're being sent out on a wild goose chase. They have us training to handle the weirdest shit, yet they want us out here because 'we've had some sightings'?" Trevor sighed, lifting his head up slightly to throw the car into park before leaning back in the seat, his shoulders slumped. Leon nodded silently while giving the dramatic man an awkward look, slowly turning his head to look out the window again.

The SUV sat parked in the deserted street for over an hour before Leon spotted something out of the corner of his eye, lifting his head up from where it rested in his hand. He nudged Trevor, who was busy messing around with the pocket button on his shirt, before silently pointing his index finger towards the windshield.

"What? You see something?" Trevor asked, voice raspy from exhaustion. He squinted as he leaned forward, trying to focus on what Leon had pointed at. "I'm-.. I'm not seeing anything." Leon wiped under his left eye with an annoyed sigh at that, closing his eyes for a brief moment to collect himself. "In that parking garage across the block-" he leaned more towards Trevor, helping his gaze follow where he was pointing, "there's something moving up there. I can see light."

Trevor cocked an eyebrow as he finally spotted what Leon had been looking at, turning away to look at him questioningly. "....so?"

"So?! Are you serious?! Did you even read the file? This town has a curfew!"

"It's probably just some random homeless dude looking for a spot to set up."

"Even if it's just some random homeless dude, we're supposed to check out any activity we see tonight." Leon whispered harshly while he gestured for Trevor to start driving, which he did with an attitude.

The two drove over to the parking garage, Leon proudly noting the toll booth and the hours for the structure posted on a sign next to the barrier gate once they pulled up across the street. The other agent seemed less than impressed, shaking his head slightly as he parked the car, turned it off, and slipped out along with Leon.

They gave each other a quick once over, making sure they both had their proper equipment before stalking across the street and into the parking garage. Both flashlights now on, they cautiously looked around the empty parking garage, walking up the steep platform to the second level.

"I think I saw it on the third level, but they could've moved.." Leon whispered, his gun drawn in his right hand while the left sat over the right, holding the flashlight. Trevor nodded silently in acknowledgement, walking behind and slightly to the right of the Leon

The two men grew ever anxious as they made their way around the parking garage, slowing down their already cautious walk once the faint glow of a light could be seen hitting against the wall that held a single elevator and a door to a staircase. They paused briefly to give each other a quick glance before continuing on upwards, slowly rounding the corner while trying to remain as silent as possible.

Leon was the first to make it around the corner, if only by a second, before he quickly threw his hand back against Trevor's chest. He pushed the man back while stepping back himself, both hidden just around the corner by a large concrete support. Trevor gave him an incredulous look, though he made sure not to make any noise.

"There's something standing at the top." Leon whispered, clicking his flashlight off as he furrowed his eyebrows. The other agent followed suit, turning his flashlight off with a now very confused expression. "It was big. Looked like it was ducking underneath the beams.." Leon continued, his voice quieting even further.

Trevor leaned in so he could at least understand his partner, tilting his body to the right slightly to try and catch a glimpse of whatever he saw. "Okay, I'll uh-... let me head back down to the car so I can radio this in. Don't want the sound alerting whatever it is." he whispered back before nodding to himself.

"Yeah-..yeah, okay. I'll make sure it doesn't make a run for it." Leon responded, tucking the flashlight into its designated loop on his tactical belt as Trevor quietly shuffled back down the levels of the parking garage.

With his gun at the ready, Leon slowly peaked his head from the concrete support, trying to catalogue the details of the creature in his head as best as he could;

Over 8 feet tall, dark grey horns on its head.. those look like goat ears. what? ...muscular, broad shoulders... claws? Fur starting below the knees, cloven hooves, and is that a tail? Okay... is it not wearing clothes- what the hell am I looking at?

Leon's expression gradually turned more into a more baffled look as he took in the creature's features. He could only tell so much, considering its back was facing him. The fuck is it doing?

The young man figured his partner didn't want to radio him to tell him he alerted the higher ups, seeing as the sound might give away his position, so he remained in position.

...

He swore he only looked away for a second, but the creature had vanished, the faint sound of its hooves striking the pavement echoing through the parking garage. Assuming the creature was continuing to walk upwards, he quickly moved from his hiding spot to shuffle upwards, remaining slightly crouched down as he positioned his gun in front of him. Noticing the dead deer sitting near the corner of the lot, he grimaced. The poor thing was torn to shreds. Leon shook his head, focusing back on the task at hand as be pressed his back against the next concrete column that stood where the next corner was, taking a moment to breathe before cautiously peaking his head around it.

"Boo."

A face meeting his startled him backwards, almost losing the grip he had on his gun. He could hear a breathy laugh as he attempted to quickly reorient himself.

"You know I could hear you down there." You spoke with a smirk, standing upright fully so you were towering over Leon, looking down at him. "Im not deaf."

Leon shakily held his gun out towards you, taking quick steps back to add distance. "Stay-.. Stay right there! Don't move any closer or I'll-"

"You'll what? You'll shoot me? Gonna call for your friend?" Cutting him off with a low chuckle, you stared down at him with lidded eyes, smirk growing at his obvious fear. When he didn't respond, you took a large step closer to him which caused him to scramble back, almost tripping over himself.

You crouched down again, smirk slowly turning to a frown as you glared at him. "Thaaat's right. I didn't think so." There was a brief moment of silence before you took a couple quick steps forward, smacking the gun out of his hands with a snarl. It fell to the ground with a loud clatter, sliding numerous feet away.

Leon only had his knife left, but he was frozen with fear. Grabbing the front of his shirt, you yanked him upwards slightly as you tilted your head down to breathe him in, closing your eyes all the while. A low purr rumbled from your chest as you took in his scent, further burying your face into his neck before slowly pulling back to lick your lips.

He was stuck watching your obscenely long and pointy tongue poke out from your mouth, your sharp teeth and large canines on full display as you grinned at his scared expression. "You reek of fear. Not built for whatever job has you out here watching me."

With that, you let go of him. He fell to the floor with a pained gasp, his knees having buckled the moment you grabbed him.

You stood back up fully once more, staring down at Leon with an almost curious expression as he looked back up at you. He was on the verge of tears. He knew he wasn't ready to fight the infected again, but he wasn't expecting whatever you are to be so... different...

"What's the matter, sweet boy? Demon got your tongue?" You smirked again, hooves scraping against the pavement as you crept towards where he laid. He let out a small whimper, tears beginning to fall from his eyes as he watched you move closer. Once your hooves sat where his feet were, you let out a sigh, expression softening.

You hunched over, carefully unclipping his tactical belt from his waist before tossing it in the general direction his gun went minutes ago. Leon closed his eyes with a soft sob, expecting the worst as you now stood right over the top of him. Instead, he felt your large hand gently caress his cheek, wiping away the tears that fell.

Looking up at you through watery eyes, he sniffled, bottom lip trembling as he gave you a confused look. "I know I should just kill you now, but god, you're probably the most adorable human I've seen." You hummed, shifting slightly so your knee sat between his legs when you crouched down. "Got that cute pouty lip, pretty eyes..." your voice trailed off slightly as you complimented the frightened agent laying underneath you.

Leon was even more confused now, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as you continued to stroke his cheek. He didn't try to move out from underneath you, but he wanted to.

"I can tell you're just a fragile one." You spoke, your voice falling to a low growl. "Shouldn't be working with things like me. You'll get hurt..." Leon let out a gasp as you suddenly grabbed the tops of his clothed thighs, pulling him closer to you. "W-wait! Wait! Wait!" He yelled, finally willing his hands to move so he could try and pull yours from his legs. "D-don't-!"

You shushed him softly, hunching over him so your face was right above his. Your sharp claws dug into his thighs as you tightened your grip, not enough to break skin but enough to be uncomfortable. "I won't hurt you, sweet thing. Just wanna get a better look at you..."

As you began to run your hands up from Leon's thighs to his waist, he couldn't help but look down towards your hands, his brain suddenly processing the fact that your naked and very human-like! Despite the demonic features, of course. Your breasts were fully in view to him, and though your crotch was also in view, it was covered in a thick patch of fur.

"H-hey, don't- what are you doing...?" Leon spoke, his voice shaky and hushed. Growing awkward with the strange situation, he began to squirm a bit under your touch, the flush on his cheeks from his crying quickly deepening with embarrassment.

"Stop moving.." You growled into his ear, voice low and commanding. You watched your hands trail around his body, claws snagging quite a few times on the fabric of his clothes. You took the opportunity to bury your face into his neck again, breathing in his sweet musk.

Leon had no idea what was going on. Obviously this was better than being mauled to death, but he wasn't trained for *this*. Aggressive monsters he could handle, what was he suppose to do with the ones that apparently want to seduce him? He was hoping Trevor would come back soon, but he probably decided to wait outside the parking garage to make sure this beast didn't make a run for it.

"C-can I just-?" "No." You were quick to cut him off, face still buried in his neck while you felt him up.

He'd be lying if he said the attention wasn't making him hard, even if the situation was weirding him out. He hadn't touched himself in over a year since all he felt was shame and guilt every time he tried, the trauma Raccoon City caused really did a number on his psyche.

Your hands were warm, large, Leon didn't know how he felt about it. He was only a couple inches away from being 6 feet, but there was something about having a beast that was so much bigger touch him this way. It was freeing.

The sound of Leon's static filled radio echoing from across the pavement caused you to turn your head to look over at it, those goat ears of yours perking up as you listened. Kinda cute for a demon. "Looks like your friend is calling for you.." you whispered, slowly standing up while bringing him up with you by the collar of his shirt.

You dragged him over to the radio, yanking it from the belt before holding it up to mouth. "Go on. Why don't you tell him you've got it under control?" your voice was so sultry now. It made him shiver.

Leon did as he was told, watching you press the button so he could tell Trevor that he lost track of you and that he was going to survey the rest of the parking garage's levels before coming back down. You listened with a smirk as Trevor quickly responded back, acknowledging his decision.

You let the radio fall once it went silent, what sounded like a purr rumbling from your throat as you wrapped your arms loosely around his chest, hands pressed flat against his pecs with clawed fingers splayed out. "Good boy, Leon..." you cooed into his ear, having heard his name when Trevor responded through the radio.

Leon swallowed dryly at your praise, his blush immediately returning before looking down at your hands, watching as you began to unbutton his shirt. "Come on now... Let me take care of you.."

Something must be laced with your voice cause it was really starting to fog his mind. He should be scared, fighting for his life, shouting for help, anything, but he couldn't. He was too focused on the way your hands felt against his now exposed skin, helping you as you gently pulled his shirt off his shoulders and out from where it was tucked into his pants.

The agent let you guide him back down to the ground, watching as you unbuttoned his pants, sitting propped up on his elbows. The hook on your claw grabbed the hole in his zipper, pulling it down slowly. You instructed him to lift his hips, and from there, both his pants and boxers were swiftly tugged down and tossed aside.

It was a warmer night, thank god, so he didn't have to worry about freezing to death. Gave him room to worry about those claws as your hand wrapped around his dick. He groaned weakly at your grip, eyes closing partially as his blush spread down to his exposed chest.

"Such a pretty cock, but I wouldn't expect anything else from a pretty boy like you." You chuckled lowly, your breath hot against his dick as you languidly stroked it. Before he knew it, your tongue had come back out of your mouth to take the place of your hand, wrapping it around his shaft.

It was such an intense feeling; the way the tip of his cock sat against your tongue in your mouth, how it wriggled around every inch of his thick sex, the amount of drool that oozed from your mouth, running down your tongue so it absolutely coated him. The wet sound it made was so obscene.

Leon covered his mouth with his left hand while the right weakly gripped one of your horns, wanting to muffle his whimpers and moans so they wouldn't echo and alert the other agent just outside. He still babbled on quietly; "F-fuck..ple-ase, thatfeelssogood-.. fuck! oooh god... pleasepleaseplease-..!"

You chuckled softly, moving your head down to wrap your mouth fully around his cock, continuing to work your tongue around it as you sucked simultaneously. You repeated the process a few times, pulling your head back to stroke him with your tongue before sucking again. His noises were so pathetic, it was adorable.

Eventually, you pulled your head away fully, tongue slowly unraveling from his cock with a breathy laugh. Leon whined loudly, looking absolutely spent, his face fully flushed pink and his eyes closed, now fully laying back against the rough pavement. You hadn't let him finish, he was so close.

"You taste as sweet as you look..." You hummed, licking your lips to savor the taste of the man. It was easy to manhandle to sit up on his knees, watching in a trance as you turned around, laying your chest flat against the ground as you kept your ass lifted up. "Come on, baby boy. Let's put that mouth of yours to good use.."

Your tail, long and thick, snaked around Leon's neck, squeezing ever so gently as you used it to pull his face down into your crotch. He groaned, bringing his shaking hands up to part the fur covering your cunt before quickly starting to lap at your folds, whimpering at the taste.

You smiled, letting out a soft sigh as he moved his hand underneath to circle your clit with his thumb. You made sure to keep your tail wrapped around his neck, keeping his face firmly pressed into your pussy. He was good with his mouth, whimpering and moaning into you every time you praised him;

"Good boy..."

"Doing such a good job for me.."

"That's right, use that pretty mouth."

"Bet you look adorable, all messy and pussydrunk.."

Leon felt so good, weakly stroking his cock with one hand while he kept your pussy parted with the other, his lips and chin wet with your slick as he continued to eat you out sloppily. He was soaking up your words like a sponge, it's been so long since he'd been taken care of like this. Who knew all he needed was a bit of some domineering attention? Doesn't really matter if it's coming from a demon or not, apparently.

His dick was still fully covered in your saliva, making it all the more nicer to stroke it while he tended to you. The feeling of your tail wrapped around his neck, your sultry voice speaking words of encouragement, the taste and smell of your cunt, and the way his hand thrusted lazily over his cock caused his orgasm to quickly build up, whispering rambled nonsense as he spurted cum across the floor underneath you with weak moans and shuddering breaths.

You cooed, moving your tail from around his neck down to his waist, pulling him up so he was standing on his knees and not sitting back on his haunches anymore. He moved his hands up to stabilize himself, holding tightly onto your hips with a dazed expression.

"Felt good, didn't it, handsome?" You whispered, prompting him to nod lazily as he stared down at your ass, moving his right hand to grab at the base of your tail. Wonder how that works..

You chuckled, furry ears tilting back to listen in on him easier. "Well don't leave me hanging, baby. I can feel you pressing against my leg.." You pulled him closer with your tail, causing his dick to grind against the inside of your thigh.

Leon groaned at that, so sensitive from his orgasm barely a minute ago. He was already rock solid again, letting his hands feel around your ass for a moment before standing up a bit so he could position himself at your leaking hole. He steadied his hands, gripping your hips tightly as he pushed himself into you slowly.

Despite being vastly bigger than him, you were still so tight, wrapping around his cock so good, all warm and soft inside. He let out a long and drawn out whine, throwing his head back as he clenched his teeth. "I-oh god you're so soft-..f-fuck! So wet.. hghh~.. shitshitshit-" He trembled as he began to thrust, drooling onto your lower back a bit as he worked himself in and out.

Leon's pace rapidly sped up, the sound of wet skin slapping and your moans echoing quietly as he was brought closer to another orgasm. He was still reeling from the first one, moving his right hand up to tightly grab the base of your tail again to use as leverage for his fast and sloppy thrusts.

He came again with a strangled cry, feeling your silky walls milk him dry. It had been so long since he'd even cum once. His body continuing to tremble as he carefully slipped his overly sensitive cock out of your entrance, whimpering quietly with every ragged breath he let out. You let your tail slowly slip from around him so he could lay back against the concrete column, standing up with a satisfied hum as his cum dribbled out of you.

Seconds later, you began to collect his abandoned clothing, giving him the few moments to calm down and recollect himself a bit. Once you had gathered all of his items, you helped him redress, even buttoning up and tucking his shirt into his pants for him. All he could do was stare at your hands as they fixed him up, dazed and tired.

"There we go. Back to looking all professional." You giggled, bending down a bit to nip at Leon's neck. His hands immediately flew into your hair, moaning as you licked and sucked at his adam's apple. You pulled away soon after to admire your work as the hickeys already began to show, a few red indents left from your sharp teeth.

"If anyone asks, you won the fight. Okay, baby boy?"

#i'm bad at writing #i love subby leon tho #he's my favorite #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy x reader #pwp #leon kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy #re2 leon #leon x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #afab reader

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hythlodaes · 4 months ago

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and then came june

emile/leofard 9.2k words [read on ao3] explicit summary: modern AU. when leofard becomes friends with benefits with his university's star quarterback, he never expects to fall for him. (also ty @scionshtola for letting me borrow cori!! ♥)

Chapter One- Spring

Leofard has every reason to feel alone in this world.

He doesn't remember his parents, doesn't know what happened to them, only that he was left to grow up by himself. He used to wonder about his relatives—when other children would talk about grandparents, aunts, uncles, siblings, and he'd think, Where are mine? Why couldn't they take care of me?

He's long grown out of those thoughts.

At nineteen, he loses the one person that he could call family. Not related by blood, Raimille still loves him as a son, still leaves him everything she has with only one request: that he graduates college. At nineteen, he moves across the country with the car he loves with all his heart, speakers blasting Nirvana the whole way. Years in foster care have taught him never to feel sorry for himself, only to chase the freedom that he finds out here. After watching Raimille waste away with sickness, he chooses life.

And he never feels alone. He meets Stacia at orientation, and she instantly becomes the sister he always wished he had. Over the years he meets friends in classes, at parties, at work, and it becomes a new kind of family—silly, loud, and his.

Then, early spring of his junior year, he meets Emile.

—

It starts with a half joke between Leofard and Stacia at two in the morning, curled up on the couch of their apartment and barely awake after marathoning their favorite movies all day. We should throw a party, Leofard murmurs into the tv flashed dark, and Stacia—his usual voice of reason—doesn't say no.

Their apartment ends up cramped with dozens of college students the next weekend, loud and messy and the kind of thing that makes Leofard laugh until his stomach hurts. He shines under the extra attention, his body warm from alcohol, and it’s the kind of happiness that feels just real enough.

He runs into Stacia as the front door opens again. A bunch of tall, bulky guys spill through, and Leofard may not follow their school's football team the way Stacia does, but she's dragged him to enough games that he recognizes a few of them.

She always says she comes from a football family, and well, that includes Leofard now too.

"God, they're huge," he comments, and he's about to turn his attention away when his gaze catches the last of them ducking under the door. He’s a little taller than the rest, and dark brown hair falls to his chin but he tucks it behind his ear, big eyes searching the room before someone claps him on the shoulder.

The guy smiles, eyes curving into half moons, and Leofard feels the corners of his lips threaten to raise.

Stacia shakes her head. "Leo, I swear if you try to sleep with anyone on the football team..."

"Who said anything about that?" he asks, but this time he lets his mouth pull into a grin. "I'm just appreciating the view."

The night drags on, the music blurs from one song into the next. Leofard feels only slightly hazy—that sluggish kind of drunk that makes the room spin a little slower. He gives into it, hearing his own laughter as a loud and distant sound in his ears.

He finds himself in the kitchen again, a full drink in his hand. Utata sits on the counter, singing along to the music at the top of her lungs, and Leofard keeps his focus on her for a moment too long. In hindsight, it's funny that he doesn't see it coming, but Leofard turns away, knocking into the person behind him, and the entirety of his drink spills onto their shirt on impact.

He has to tilt his head back to meet wide brown eyes, shock evident in the gaze that looks down at him. Leofard recognizes him from when he came in, but he's even cuter up close, where he can make out the freckles on his cheeks, the pout of his lips as he glances down at his shirt.

"Shit, sorry," Leofard says, wincing at the red splotch that trails from collar to hem.

"It's okay," the guy says quickly. His voice is softer than Leofard expected and a little hard to hear over the music. He looks up over Leofard's head and into the kitchen. "I'll just rinse this off."

Leofard almost laughs until he realizes he wasn’t joking.

"Hate to say it, but that's not coming out, baby," he yells over the music. "Come on, I'll get you a new one."

"You'll—" he starts, but Leofard claps him on the back as he walks past him. He leaves no room for argument, and the guy follows him to his room. The door shuts behind them, quieting the party to a dull roar in the background. It grounds Leofard for a moment, steadies him against the blurriness of the alcohol in his system as he goes to his bureau.

“You called me baby,” the guy says, and when Leofard glances over his shoulder, he’s looking around the room, pausing at his desk to pick up one of Leofard's records. He meets his gaze. “This is your apartment.”

“Right on both counts," he answers, and the guy smiles at him. There’s a warmth in Leofard’s chest that has nothing to do with being drunk. "What's your name?"

"Emile." "I'm Leofard."

"I know," he says, and clears his throat. "I've heard about you."

Leofard’s hands still. "Really?"

"Well...I've heard about your car."

"Even better," he says, letting his lips split into a crooked grin. He turns his attention back to the bureau. "Given the obvious, I'm not sure if I have anything that'll fit you."

"You really don't have to, I'm sure this will wash out."

"As much as I enjoy the mental image, do you really want to walk around in a wet shirt the rest of the night?" he challenges, just as he finds an old band tee that's always been way too big for him. When he turns around, he has to smile at the pout on Emile's lips. It doesn't last long, but he continues to stare at Leofard for a moment before his shoulders slump in defeat.

Then he takes his ruined shirt off.

Leofard has to bite down on his tongue—he should look away. He doesn't. His eyes roam along the thick muscle of Emile's chest and up to the line of his broad shoulders, back down the bulk of his arms. Lifting his gaze, he meets Emile's, who watches him watch, something not quite discernable in his eyes before he smiles shyly—it's the tilt of his chin, the curve of his lips...

"Baby, you're something else," Leofard breathes out, and hands him the clean shirt.

Emile rolls his eyes before he puts it on. It stretches around him—where it hangs loose on Leofard, it clings to Emile, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “Thank you.”

"Don't mention it," he says, and he shifts his weight between his feet, unwilling to let the moment go. "So what’s this you heard about my car?”

“Oh,” he says. “Some of the guys were talking about it on the way over—said you could hear it halfway across campus.”

Leofard raises his brows, grinning helplessly. “It’s not that loud. Shit, I thought it would be something good.”

"Like what?"

"Like what? I've worked on that car for the last six years of my life, it's perfect. A thing of beauty."

Emile laughs, watching him for a moment longer before he asks, "Will you show it to me?”

That single question sets his mind racing. For a moment, he can see it so clearly: Emile's long legs in the passenger seat, Leofard's hand on his thigh. He'd roll the windows down, stealing glances at his loose hair blowing in the wind while the Shins play over the speakers.

He thinks he’d show Emile anything, if he asked.

"Play your cards right," he says. "I'll even take you for a ride."

Emile laughs again, something closer to a giggle. He must be just as drunk, but he's so cute in Leofard's shirt, his big eyes bright with amusement. “You're flirting with me.”

“Well, you’re the one wearing my shirt.”

“You spilled your drink on mine!”

Leofard grins. “And I almost wish I did it on purpose.”

A blush colors Emile’s cheeks as he turns his head away. “I wouldn’t say no,” he murmurs, and when he looks back, he doesn’t hide the way his eyes cast down Leofard’s body and back up to meet his gaze. He clears his throat. “You know—to a ride.”

Leofard swallows hard. Everything in him says to move closer, to reach out, to touch him, but he holds himself back. “Come on, let's get another drink.”

The sound of the party passes over them as Emile follows him out of his room. They walk down the hall together, but as soon as Leofard makes it to the kitchen, someone wraps an arm around his neck and yells into his ear. Leofard makes out half of the words, but as he looks behind him, it seems that Emile is similarly lost in the crowd.

The stab of disappointment lasts longer than he expects it to.

The night grows weary, the music still plays. Leofard is definitely drunk but it only makes him tired. There are a few times throughout the night when Emile catches his eye across the room, and a small smile crosses his lips. It feels like something secret exists between them—something merely waiting for the right moment.

They collide again.

This time it’s Emile’s hand on his shoulder, holding himself steady as his body sways closer, as he leans down. Distance is a second thought when he fixes those brown eyes on Leofard, lips curving up at the edges in a shy smile.

“I thought you were going to show me your car," he says, his soft voice loud over the music, but all Leofard can focus on is the strength of his grip on his shoulder, and as he blinks at him through the blurry lights of the living room, the only thought on his mind is touch him.

This time he doesn't hold back.

He reaches out to wrap his arm around Emile's waist, hand grazing along his own shirt clinging to his body. He bites down on a grin at the way Emile shifts into his touch, the way his eyes widen when Leofard inches his fingertips beneath the hem, teasing at his warm skin. With their faces this close, Leofard just has to tilt his chin towards him to be heard, keeping his voice deep, quiet. “All you have to do is ask, baby.”

“Please?” Emile murmurs against his ear, and Leofard closes his eyes for a moment. That single word sets the room spinning, keeping in time with the way his heart pounds in his chest. He turns his head towards him, noses brushing for a moment, breath ghosting against each other's lips, and he swallows hard as he pulls away.

“Come on.” Fresh air sounds like a good idea.

He turns his gaze to the door, and Emile is a step behind him as they head outside. There's a few people smoking on the front steps, but in the fuzzy dark they hardly pay Emile and Leofard any mind as they slip around the corner. The streetlights barely reach them here, washing the yard in gray light while everything sits muted and quiet. Only the distant sound of music from the house can be heard, a beat that sinks under the surface of the night.

It's cold, but Emile's body is warm as he crowds him against the side of the house, the excuse of seeing his car all but forgotten. Leofard touches the hem of his shirt again as Emile's head bends towards his, and there's a certain sway to them both, something hazy but desperate, lingering at the boundary line between them.

Leofard crosses first, reaching up to wrap his arms around Emile's shoulders and pull him down into his space, where he meets his mouth with his own. Emile tastes like sugary punch, and he kisses him softly until he parts his lips. Leofard gasps against him, tangling his fingers in his hair as he deepens the kiss, a sound caught in the back of his throat as Emile's hands skim down his back and pull his body against his.

It's the right kind of messy—lacking just enough control to satisfy that desire in his chest. It says I need you without holding back, and Leofard hates how much he wants that from a stranger familiar enough to give it to him.

He pushes further, hands seeking the touch of his skin beneath his shirt, and he moans when Emile slots his thigh between his, as a rhythm begins to build, heavy breaths warming the air between them, and—

"Hey, Emile, are you out here?" comes a voice from the dark.

They break apart. Leofard doesn't recognize whoever calls out towards them, but he keeps his eyes closed as he catches his breath. Emile’s touch shifts to his waist as he leans back in, his voice just above a whisper. "That's my ride home."

Leofard cracks his eyes open. "You're kidding."

“I wish I was.”

He has the thought to offer to take Emile back himself, but he's too drunk to drive. His next thought is to offer to let him stay the night, but he dismisses it the second it comes to mind. The thought of Emile taking his hands off of him is unbearable in this state, but he can't think of another way out.

“Okay, Cinderella,” he relents, and he can see the stretch of Emile’s smile even in the dark. "This was fun."

"It was," he agrees, and for a moment Leofard thinks he's going to kiss him again, but he just shakes his head. "Goodnight."

Leofard watches him walk back towards the lights of the driveway, where the silhouettes of his friends wait for him. Leofard just stares, his head in a daze as he blinks into the night. Emile opens the door to the passenger side of an old jeep, throwing one last look over his shoulder before he gets in.

Headlights pass over the yard and then disappear down the street. Leofard tilts his head back against the house, willing his body to calm down before he goes back inside, where the party slows to a stop. Stacia raises a brow when they meet in the kitchen, but he merely shrugs a shoulder at her despite the disappointment in his chest.

When he finally makes it back to his room, he has to laugh at Emile's stained shirt left on his bed. Cinderella indeed. He tosses it into his closet and crawls under the blankets. The room still spins even when he closes his eyes, but he thinks about the warmth of Emile’s body along his, the press of his lips, and what could’ve happened if they had a little more time.

He lets his hand drift down his stomach—an echo of Emile's touch—but almost isn’t quite enough.

—

It doesn’t stay on his mind for long.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t keep an eye out for Emile on campus—he’d be hard to miss, anyway—but a week goes by, then another, and Leofard lets go of the idea of running into him again. He never mentions it to Stacia, who would only make fun of him for it anyway, he merely chalks it up as a missed opportunity, something that wasn't meant to be.

Where he's content to let it stay, until a few weeks later.

Utata invites him and Stacia over on a Friday night. She says she's throwing a small party, but they all know better. She's one of his only friends that lives with her family off campus, which means whenever her parents are out of town, they have the whole house to themselves.

Leofard walks over with Stacia—they meant to show up early but they're both perpetually late, and the party is in full swing by the time they get there. Cars line the street and the yard, and inside the lights are low, skimming over the crowd in a blue haze. It smells like smoke and like someone spilled punch, which makes him think of a stained shirt, and—

"I'm going to grab a drink," he yells over the music, and Stacia nods at him before she disappears into the packed living room.

He navigates through the crowded hall, and it’s funny how everyone feels a little familiar at this point, strangers faces that he can pick out from classes over the years, from this same party he's been to time and again. It's always the same and yet they keep doing this, keep repeating it because it's the smallest break from the stress of school, from the stress of figuring out what they're supposed to be doing with their lives.

At the end of the hall, he runs into Cori.

They’re bent down in front of Utata’s dog—Pickles, a fluffy collie that's currently nuzzling his face into her lap as they scratch behind his ear. Leofard’s used to seeing them at school, their similar majors all but guaranteeing shared classes over the years, but they've become something like friends at this point.

Mostly they share the same love of cars, which—and he would never admit this to anyone, not even Stacia—Cori is far more knowledgeable of.

"Hey," he says, and a wave of hair cascades over their shoulder when they glance up at him.

“Hi,” they return. "No one was paying attention to Pickles."

“It's a good thing you're here, then," he says. "I was just going to grab a drink, do you want any—“

His voice cuts off as he glances into the kitchen, where his gaze lands on the one person he thought he'd never see again. Big brown eyes curve into half moons as he smiles, loose hair curves around his chin as he talks, the light of the kitchen makes his skin golden.

Emile is here.

“Leo?” It’s Cori who says it, and Leofard barely registers his own name.

"Sorry, I—" he starts, but then Emile looks over, brows lifting when he notices Leofard. A small smile crosses his lips, but someone grabs him by the arm, pulling him out of the kitchen. He lifts his drink towards Leofard for a moment and then he's gone again.

"Someone you know?" Cori asks.

"Yeah," he answers, and he clears his throat, forcing himself to look away. "I'll catch up with him later."

He tells himself that he'll let it happen naturally, that if they run into each other again then he'll talk to him, but it's just a few minutes later that he finds himself fumbling over an excuse to Cori before heading in the same direction that Emile left in.

The music has definitely gotten louder, and the sound of laughter and conversation has risen to match it. The living room is a mess of people dancing and silver balloons that get thrown into the air, skimming along hands raised from the crowd. Emile shouldn't be hard to find, but Leofard doesn't see him anywhere. Maybe he left already—

"Looking for someone?" Emile asks, and Leofard turns towards the sound of his voice. There's something so bright about his brown eyes as he grins. "Hi, Leofard."

"Hi," he returns, and he catches himself smiling back. "I didn't think I'd see you again."

"Me neither. I owe you a shirt."

"Don't worry about it," he says. "Looked better on you, anyway."

Emile glances away for a moment before huffing out a laugh. "You're so..."

"What—charming?" he suggests.

"Something like that."

"Come on, let's dance."

He immediately shakes his head. "Oh, I'm not much of a dancer."

"No one's judging, baby," he says. "Besides, everyone's too drunk to care."

"Are you?"

Leofard didn't even stop for a drink. "Not yet."

"Me neither," he says. "I have a meeting with my coach first thing in the morning, I shouldn't even be here."

"Miss me that much?"

Emile laughs. "Yes Leo, I've actually spent all this time looking for you."

"Well here I am," he returns. "May as well make the most of it."

Leofard watches him press his lips together, the way his gaze shifts over him as he considers it. His shoulders lower the slightest bit and Leofard smiles, knowing his answer already.

"Fine," Emile says. "One song."

"Before you turn into a pumpkin, yes I remember," he says, and he takes him by the hand into the crowd.

He was right, hardly anyone even looks over at them as they begin to move to the music. The beat is fast and heavy, pulsing through him as he keeps his eyes locked on Emile. They move closer and closer and impossibly closer, and Emile puts his hands on Leofard, long fingers pressing into his waist.

More.

Leofard raises a brow before he turns in his embrace, moving back until he fits against Emile’s chest. Emile’s hands skim down to rest low on his belly, and Leofard covers them with his own as he rolls his hips against him.

Blue dimmed lights, the kiss of balloons against the ceiling, he blinks in and out of a dream. There’s something possessive about Emile’s touch, and Leofard lets his head fall back against his shoulder as the music beats through him. Are both of their hearts pounding? Emile’s head lowers to his neck, and he can feel the warmth of his breath as his lips ghost against his skin—

The song ends.

For a moment, neither of them move.

"You know," Leofard says, turning to face him. "We have unfinished business, Cinderella."

"What do you mean?" he asks, but his hands are still on Leofard, and they inch the slightest bit lower.

"I mean," Leofard starts. "I never showed you my car."

Amusement makes a home in Emile's gaze. “I don’t think that’s what we were doing.”

“No? Maybe we’ll have to try again.”

Emile glances at his lips for a long moment before meeting his eyes again. The next song starts but they don't move, still standing too close, faces angled just right—all it would take is the slightest effort to kiss.

It's been weeks, but it's the same feeling crawling up Leofard's chest.

"Come on," he murmurs. The music drowns out his voice but Emile's hand finds his as he leads them through the crowd. Going outside didn't work for them last time, and he knows Utata would kill him if he took Emile to her room. Still, they go upstairs where the house is emptier, the music is still loud but the sound of voices dims to the background.

They slip into the bathroom.

Silver blue light streams in through the window, echoing across the tiled wall. The silhouette of Emile steps ahead of him, and they stay in the dark, bodies moving closer. Emile is so big and solid and yet he yields to Leofard, lets him crowd him against the sink. It's quiet enough that Leofard can hear the hitch in his breath, the small sound in the back of his throat when Leofard puts his hands on him.

In the dark, their lips meet.

It's better than his drunken memory, sharper without the haze of alcohol blurring the lines between them. His heart races as they rush into it, his own desperation climbing as they continue what was cut short. He kisses Emile's jaw, lips brushing along warm skin as he works down to his neck, and he has to hold back a grin as Emile's hands bunch at his shirt, pulling him closer.

"Isn't this," Emile breathes out, "a bit of a risk?"

"Maybe," Leofard returns, but he lets his hand skim down to Emile's jeans, tugging at the waistband. "I can stop if you want, baby."

Emile pushes his hips into his touch. “Keep going.”

Leofard bites down on another grin before he presses his mouth to his shoulder, hand reaching lower to undo the button of his jeans. Heat surges through him at the sound of Emile's shaky breath, at the crack of his voice loosening into a moan as Leofard finally touches him.

It’s like the rest of the room disappears. Leofard pulls back enough to watch his face, to see his brows push together, his lips part, the way his eyes shut as his head tips back. He does not hide his pleasure, and in the ghost of the moonlight, Leofard is transfixed.

"Wait," Emile murmurs, and Leofard looks up in question when he puts a hand on his wrist to stop him. "I want to—with you."

Leofard is about to ask what he means when he reaches over to tug at Leofard's jeans, a small smile on his lips as he looks up to meet his gaze. His hair is a mess, lips still parted, his big eyes wide as he watches him—Leofard doesn't stand a chance.

He's already close, and he groans openly as Emile takes them both in hand. Somehow they find each other's lips again, and they kiss as their hips work together, the sound of the party all but gone as they pant into each other’s mouths. For a moment, all that matters is the rush of warmth through his body, building with each stroke until his breath catches in his throat.

They’re still kissing when they come.

Leofard tilts his head back, eyes squeezed shut until the feeling begins to fade. The world comes back to him in pieces: the distant sound of music playing, Emile's hand steady on his hip, the room shifting into focus when he opens his eyes again.

He catches Emile's gaze, and they both laugh.

"Utata would actually kill me if she knew."

Emile shakes his head. "I won’t say a word."

And then it's just the two of them in a dark bathroom. They clean up, taking turns washing their hands and fixing their hair and clothes. Leofard almost wants to put the lights on just to see the flush of Emile's skin, but once they're both ready, they slip back into the empty hallway, where a rare question leaves Leofard's mouth: “What if I asked for your number?”

Emile blinks at him for a moment. “Oh, I don't really date. It's kind of hard with my schedule, and I don't want to commit to anything if I'm not sure about it—not that I don't like you! I just don't know if it would be a good idea, or if I'm even in a place to figure that out..."

His voice trails off and his brows push together as he watches Leofard for a reaction.

Leofard laughs.

"Relax baby, I'm not exactly boyfriend material either," he says. "I just wanted to hook up again."

"Oh," Emile says, and he begins to laugh as well. "Sorry."

"It's okay," he returns. "We can leave it like this, too."

Emile bites his lip. "No—no, I'd like to see you again."

"Yeah?" He fishes his phone from his pocket and opens his list of contacts before handing it over. He watches the way the light flashes against Emile's face as he enters his number. It makes his freckles stand out, and it's hard not to stare at the way they cross over his nose. He clears his throat. “I don’t date either, you know.”

“Okay,” Emile says, and he lets their hands brush when he gives him his phone back. “So no expectations?”

“No expectations," he confirms. "We can just be friends."

Emile smiles. “Just friends.”

—

If Leofard knew, in that moment, that Emile was in love with someone else, he probably still would've gone for it.

If he knew how easily his own heart could break, how this conversation would be the one he'd come to regret—

Well.

Maybe that would've made him pause.

—

He sleeps in too late the night day, the sun bright behind his blinds and warming him even as cool air seeps in through the cracked open window. His blanket is in his fist, curled up beneath his chin as he takes in a deep breath and stretches his body out for a moment before relaxing back into his pillow.

He gives himself a few more minutes; it’s been a while since he's felt this good.

It's noon by the time he gets up, and he shuffles into the kitchen with his blanket still wrapped around him. Stacia's at the table with a steaming cup of coffee and an open book, but she stares blankly at the space in front of her. It takes a moment for her to look up at him, and the looming afternoon light only highlights the dark circles under her eyes.

“You good?” he asks.

“Hungover,” she returns. “You?”

He bites his lip for a moment as he recalls last night, the phantom memory of Emile's hands on him, the new phone number in his contact list. “Just tired.”

It’s a testament to her hangover that she doesn’t notice the tone of his voice—light and entirely too pleased with himself—but he leaves her to her coffee while he makes breakfast. Though he is prone to burning most of the food he cooks, he is more than capable of eggs and toast, and he pours himself a cup of coffee to sip at while he works.

Sometimes it's like this: bare feet on the cool kitchen tiles, warm sunlight on his skin, the smell of coffee in the air—moments of the smallest, most simple happiness can happen so unexpectedly.

When he sits back down, he takes a breath and asks, “What do you know about Emile?”

Stacia's head pops up from her book. “Jenidaut?”

“Maybe?” he says, lifting a shoulder. He doesn’t have a clue what his last name is. Through a mouthful of toast, he says, “He’s on the football team.”

“Yeah,” she answers. “He’s the best quarterback this school has ever seen. He’s a sophomore and there were already rumors of a Heisman this season.”

Leofard just blinks at her.

“You've seen him play. Do you remember that playoff game last year?" she tries. "They put him in at the last second and he caught the game winning pass—I lost my voice from screaming."

See, he remembers actually going to the games, but as far as what happens during them? “I thought Emile was the quarterback...”

“Well not at first, but Varlineau injured his shoulder and Emile took his place,” she says. “You really weren’t paying attention, were you?”

“I pay attention,” he argues, but quickly relents at the look she gives him. “Just not that much.”

She shakes her head. “Why are you even asking about him?”

Hands on his body, head tipped back with a groan, the heat of his skin—Leofard clears his throat. "I might've hooked up with him last night."

"What," she exclaims, and he has to laugh at the way she sits up, eyes wide, her hangover all but forgotten. "The hell, Leo, why wouldn't you start with that? Tell me everything!"

It starts in their own apartment, it starts with a stained shirt, it starts with kisses that lead nowhere in the dark. It leads to last night, to their dance, familiar enough with each other to push them over the edge. He brushes up against the details, skims past them, but he fails to hide his smile at the memory of the two of them slipping away from the rest of the party.

He can tell that she notices, but all she says is, “So, what—are you going to call him?”

“Probably,” he says, lifting a shoulder. The truth is, he can’t imagine passing up another opportunity to see him, but he just smiles before he takes another sip of coffee—

“We’ll see what happens.”

—

He gives it a couple days.

It crosses his mind while he partakes in his favorite activity—laying on his bed and staring at the ceiling, music playing too loud while he ignores his homework. He can't seem to focus, mind spinning between thoughts but unable to land on one, and he turns his attention to his phone laying at the other end of his bed.

Emile would make a better distraction.

Still, he stares for a long moment without moving, and the second he wonders if he's nervous, he gets up and makes himself call.

It rings a few times before the soft sound of Emile's voice comes through. "Hello?"

Leofard smiles. "What's this I hear about you being a hotshot quarterback?"

There’s a beat of silence, and then: “Leofard?”

"Who else?"

He hears him laugh. "And you call me a hotshot."

"Am I wrong?" he says. "My roommate was just talking about some play you did last season, thought I'd see if it’s true."

“Yes, it's true,” he says. "Is that the only reason you called?"

"No," he returns, biting down on another smile. "Let's go for a drive, I'll pick you up."

"In the infamous car that I still have yet to see?"

"The one and only."

"Alright," he says. "Give me a half hour."

He tells him where his dorm is, and Leofard gives himself approximately twenty minutes to look nice before he has to leave. One glance in the mirror, he ruffles up his curls and takes off his old sweatshirt and replaces it with his favorite beat up denim jacket.

Stacia is in the living room when he comes out of his room, and she takes one look at him and raises a brow. "Off on a date?"

"It's not a date," he says, grabbing his keys.

"Off to get laid?"

This time he laughs. "I'll catch you later."

"Be safe, have fun!" she calls out after him.

Early evening means the campus is quiet. Leofard lived in the dorms his freshman year before moving in with Stacia, so he's familiar with them. He navigates across campus to Emile's building, biting down on a grin at the sight of him waiting on the front steps.

Emile looks unfairly good, simply in a sweatshirt and jeans, hair falling loose from his ponytail. He looks up and waves.

Leofard is in trouble.

"Hey, gorgeous," he says as he gets in the car.

“Hi,” Emile says, smiling in that shy way. His attention turns to the dashboard. "So this is it."

"This is it," he says. "What do you think?"

"It's nice."

His voice tips up at the end, almost like a question, and Leofard can't help but laugh. “You sure about that?”

“I don’t know anything about cars,” he admits. “But it's pretty."

"I've always been obsessed," Leofard says as he pulls out of the parking lot. "I got my first job just so I could buy it."

He worked every day after school. Raimille wanted to pay for it for him but he wouldn't let her, convinced he needed to prove that he could do it himself. Part of him regrets it, if only for how much time he unknowingly lost with her.

"I like that,” Emile murmurs, the sound of a smile in his voice as they take to the tree lined streets, headlights coasting over gravel. "You know, I never actually learned how to drive."

“Shit, baby, I’ll teach you,” he returns. "Why not?"

"I was just busy with football, I guess," he says. "And my friends were always willing to drive me."

"So football is your thing."

There's a long pause, but then, "Yeah, I guess."

Leofard's brows dip down. "Not your thing?"

"I don't know," Emile answers, and there's a slight laugh in his voice. "I don't love it anymore. Not the way I used to, at least."

"Stacia says you're the best quarterback this school has seen."

"Stacia?"

"My roommate," he says. "Which is an understatement—she's more like an annoying sister. And my best friend. She's the biggest fan in the world, drags me to your games sometimes."

"You've seen me play?"

"Don't get too excited—it's kind of like you and my car," he explains. "I don't know anything about it, but it's pretty to look at."

Emile laughs. "You're such a flirt."

"And you've got a nice ass," he returns. "Are we just stating the obvious?"

"Leo."

"Yes?"

In his peripheral, Emile shakes his head. "Where are we going?"

"I don't know," he answers. The evening begins to settle into night, deep hues of the sky bleed into the orange sunset peering through the spaces between trees. Leofard smiles to himself. "Don't you ever just want to get out for the sake of getting out?"

"That's usually when I go for a run."

He glances over at Emile, getting the feeling that there's far more to him, but he won't ask. "Then let's see where it takes us."

It takes them across town for ice cream, which takes them to an empty park. It's too cold to get out, so they sit in the parking lot, music playing softly while they talk. He learns that Emile's from Maine, that his eyes light up when he talks about his sisters, and that he's a music major. He brushes it off when Leofard asks, but he sounds more excited about playing guitar than he does about football.

He learns that Emile is a good listener, even if the spoon at his lips is distracting, and Leofard ends up talking the night away. Everything from school to work to his car. He doesn't mention Raimille, doesn't mention family at all, because he never wants his loss to define him.

And then it's sugar sweet kisses in the dark, Leofard fumbling over the console to settle in his lap. It's cramped against the roof of the car, but nothing else matters when Emile's lips are on his, when his hands roam up his thighs as his heart picks up a beat, breath growing heavy as their kisses deepen.

Emile reaches up to tangle his fingers through his curls, pulling him that much closer, and Leofard rolls his hips against his, grinning when he moans into his mouth. At twenty two, he feels like a teenager getting off in his car again, something secretive and exciting about it. Emile kisses his neck and he can't help but let his head fall back, giving into it as it overwhelms him.

He stays in Emile's lap afterwards, head on his shoulder, face tucked into his neck. Neither of them say anything for a moment, but Emile's hands linger on his back, smoothing over him in an absent rhythm. It doesn't last long, but it's nice.

When Leofard pulls away, they smile at each other as he reaches up to pat Emile's hair down, and they clean up the best they can before he scrambles back into the driver's seat.

He turns the music up as they drive back to campus, the windows cracked and leaking in cool air. Each time he looks over at Emile, he's staring out the window, and Leofard can't tell if he's okay or not, but maybe he just doesn't know how to accept something peaceful.

He pulls up to Emile's dorm, but Emile stays a little longer, looking over at him with a soft expression.

"You should call me again."

Leofard grins. "You can count on it, baby."

—

It begins in a bathroom of a crowded party, and what starts as intermittent, becomes frequent.

They learn each other's schedules, and between classes and Emile's workouts and Leofard's job, they find time during the week to hang out. Since Emile lives in a dorm, they always meet at Leofard's apartment—Leofard either picks him up, or Emile will walk over—and in the privacy of his room, he finds out just how much better it can get.

That first shirtless glimpse of Emile the night they met couldn't have prepared him for the sight of him stretched out naked in his bed. Leofard can hardly look away, can never keep his hands to himself, always tracing his fingertips along warm skin. They learn the ways their bodies fit together, how to say more and now through touch, through breathless gasps, through the way their eyes meet, tangled up and not letting go until they're whispering jokes and giggling into the small space between them.

Whenever they finish, Emile doesn't leave right away. He never stays the night, but they always end up talking for hours, about school and friends and life, video games and tv shows, or stories about Leofard's job at the pizza shop down the road. One time they watched a marathon of Saved by the Bell while they ate leftovers from the fridge, and Leofard ended up driving him back to his dorm at three in the morning, Elliott Smith playing softly to fill the tired quiet between them: I’d say you make a perfect angel in the snow.

Leofard has had friends with benefits before, but this is the first time it feels like they're actually friends.

It's nothing more, despite what Stacia says. She's only run into Emile a few times in the apartment, but she always raises a brow with a smirk, always teases Leofard the next day about his boyfriend coming over.

Leofard just laughs it off.

He's too young to be tied down, too selfish to be good at a relationship. The thought of trying to make this romantic sounds exhausting, like a performance neither of them know the steps to. What exists between them is the easiest thing in the world—he couldn’t be happier with this arrangement.

No expectations, they’d said, and it was a good idea.

It begins to change with this:

Early May means finals, and with one year left of school, one year left of his promise to Raimille, Leofard needs to make sure he passes these classes. The only one that gives him trouble is his English paper—he's never been good at planning or gathering sources, and he keeps putting it off until he has ten pages due the following day, and maybe two done, at most.

It becomes a marathon to finish on time, surrounded by stacks of books and a perpetually full cup of coffee at his side, but he gets frustrated with himself again and again as he loses focus. He stares at his laptop for so long that his vision feels a little blurry, so when his phone rings, he accepts the distraction for what it is.

"Hello?"

"Hey," says Emile on the other end of the line, voice soft.

Leofard bites his lip as he stares at the ceiling. "What's up?"

Emile is quiet for a moment, and then: "I was wondering if you're free tonight."

Leofard spares a glance at his laptop. "Shit, I wish I was, but I’m going to be stuck working on this paper all night."

"That’s okay," Emile says, and there's something distant and strange about his voice, but Leofard can't tell whether or not he sounds disappointed. "I don’t want to—we don’t have to have sex.”

Leofard frowns at the ceiling. They've never hung out for any other reason. “What do you mean?”

“I’m just…” he trails off again. “Sorry, I’ve been having a really hard day, and I don't want to be alone. My friends ask too many questions and I—I don’t want to talk about it.”

“So I’m an option because I don’t care?” he jokes.

“God, no, that sounds terrible,” he says quickly. “You’re just…easy to be around, Leo.”

Leofard’s left with the sound of his heart beating in his chest. For a moment, his thoughts blur together and it feels like he only hears himself say, “Come over."

Emile lets out a soft breath. "I promise I won't distract you."

Something in Leofard's stomach twists uncomfortably, and he wants to tell him that that doesn't really matter. What comes out instead is, "Do you want me to come get you?"

"No, I'll be okay," he says, and pauses. "Thank you."

Leofard has a hard time focusing on his paper after that, unsure of why it bothers him so much. He gets a single sentence done by the time there's a knock on the door, and Leofard gets up to answer it before he can think better of his appearance.

He regrets it when the door opens and Emile’s expression shifts into a grin. “I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

Leofard scrunches his nose as he looks down at his outfit—an old baggy t-shirt and sweatpants. “Sorry I didn’t get dressed up for you, baby.”

“No, I like this,” he says as he steps inside. “You look comfy.”

It's difficult not to be affected by those brown eyes steady and warm on him, the softness of his smile. “Don’t get any ideas, I will indulge them.”

Emile laughs. “I’ll be good. Look, I brought my books so I can study too.”

He holds up his bag. Leofard shakes his head. “Do you ever get tired of being so cute?”

He lets him inside, and he ignores Stacia’s grin as she glances up at them from the couch. Emile stops to greet her while Leofard goes to his room, where his laptop is still open, books spread out everywhere. He cleans off a space for Emile on the bed, who merely raises a brow before settling in beside him.

It feels oddly intimate. They work separately but they're merely inches apart, brushing elbows and passing books and stray comments. Leofard wasn't sure he'd get anything done with Emile here, but he finds it easier to focus with someone beside him.

For the most part, Emile seems fine. Leofard finds his thoughts drifting towards what could've happened today that he's having such a hard time, but he can't ask—Emile specifically came to him because he won't ask. Still, it doesn't stop him from worrying. They know each other but they don't, their intimacy is limited to the physical, and that's all they wanted, right?

He doesn't know why he can't stop thinking about it.

It becomes more obvious as the night goes on. Emile doesn't move for several minutes at a time. Leofard gets through half a page of his paper without Emile turning a single page of his book, and when he looks over, Emile’s gaze is fixed blankly at the space in front of him, worrying at his lip with his free hand. It takes too long for him to notice Leofard watching, but he offers him a closed lip smile when he does. Leofard smiles back.

With two pages to go, it creeps past midnight. Leofard is ready to throw his laptop out the window when Emile's book slips from his hands onto the bed. He looks over to the dull light of the lamp casting shadows over his face pressed into his pillow, eyes closed and chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm as he sleeps.

Leofard stares for far too long.

He half asses one more page, makes the margins and the spaces between lines bigger so that it goes onto another, and closes his laptop. Emile shifts but he doesn't wake up, and Leofard debates for a moment what to do. To wake him and send him home seems cruel, especially if he's having a bad day. To let him stay here feels...too close.

Carefully, he gets up to brush his teeth, but by the time he gets back he still hasn't decided. He stands in the doorway of his own room, watching the late night shadows cast over the shape of Emile in his bed, and something tugs in his chest. He closes the door with a soft click and crawls back in beside him, pulling the blanket over them both.

This time Emile stirs, eyes blinking open slowly. "Leo?"

"Hey," he says, his voice whisper soft. "You fell asleep."

“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

"Just stay—it's too late to walk back and I'm too tired to drive."

He doesn't think that either of these things are true.

Emile is quiet for a moment, but then, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he murmurs, voice drifting off. He reaches over to turn off the light. "Of course, baby."

He can't remember the last time he shared a bed with anyone—maybe not since his second foster home, when the other kids would come to his room at night and he'd tell them stories until they fell asleep. He takes a deep breath at the memory, and watches the ceiling until his eyes grow used to the dark. Judging from the sound of Emile's breathing, he falls back asleep quickly, and Leofard lets his head turn towards him, foolishly wondering what it would be like to reach out and touch him.

He closes his eyes and waits for all of it to pass.

—

The sun spills into the room through Leofard’s cheap blinds, paled light that still stirs him awake. There’s a weight around him, something solid that seeps warmth into his body, and his brows furrow for a moment before it comes back to him.

Right. Emile stayed the night.

Leofard knows their size difference well, but for the first time he lets himself catalog it—the way Emile’s broad chest spans past his shoulders, his heavy arm curled around his waist, and his cheek pressed to the top of his head. Each point of contact says you’re safe, and to Leofard’s surprise, he doesn’t mind.

He’s never needed anyone. He’s never wanted anyone like this, but he isn’t awake enough to overthink it as he lets himself inch further back into Emile’s space, sliding his arm along his to cradle it against his chest.

Blinking through the dust dazed light, he breathes in time with him—something steady to pull him back under as his eyes fall closed.

Distance will be easier in the morning.

—

Except—then he's alone.

He wakes faster this time, but the only evidence that Emile was here at all is the rumpled blanket beside him. Something in his chest pulls at the sight, but he refuses to call it disappointment. Leofard wouldn't have woken him to say goodbye either, if their roles were reversed.

Putting on his glasses, he glances at the clock to see that he still has a couple hours to submit his paper, and he chooses to ignore his laptop in favor of coffee.

He stretches out his back as he gets up, but there's a crick in his neck from spending all day working on his paper yesterday. It's forgotten the moment he opens his door and hears the sound of voices trailing from the kitchen. He frowns to himself, but when he turns the corner, Emile and Stacia sit at the table eating breakfast, so deep in conversation that neither of them notice him.

"I trust you saved me some coffee?" he asks, interrupting. They both look up, and there's a sly smile on Stacia's face and an earnest one on Emile's. He doesn't know how to process the way it makes him feel.

"Sorry, you're on your own," Stacia says.

Emile laughs. "There's some left."

Leofard still just blinks at both of them before he goes to pour himself a cup of coffee, his brain struggling to catch up with the situation, and for once in his life he's quiet as he listens to them talk about football. Stacia's voice is bright and more excited than he remembers it ever being, and Emile indulges her, going back over specific plays and explaining the story behind them.

“That pass from Estinien,” she says, and apparently it’s all she needs to say. Leofard watches the twitch of Emile’s mouth, the way he looks down at the table as he runs a hand through his hair.

“It was his idea,” he says quietly. The memory seems to come to him, and he smiles a little to himself before he looks back at Stacia. “We used to practice those kinds of throws together all the time—it only worked because no one was expecting it.”

But before Stacia can say anything, he continues, "I should probably go, though. I have a final at noon."

"I'll drive you back," Leofard offers before he can think about it.

Emile glances at him, his expression soft. "Thank you. I'll go grab my books."

Leofard just nods as he gets up and leaves the kitchen. He wants to ignore the look on Stacia's face but it's impossible with the way her lips curve into a smug grin.

"Your boyfriend stayed the night,” she says the moment he’s out of earshot.

"Stacia," he returns, not quite a warning but more of you know it's not like that. "He fell asleep, I wasn't about to kick him out."

"Of course not." She takes a sip of her coffee, and just when he thinks she's going to let it go, she says, “I’m assuming you were the little spoon.”

“Stacia.”

She laughs, but then her voice turns a shade softer. "He's a sweet guy."

"He is," Leofard lets himself admit, and he stares in the direction that Emile left, suddenly overwhelmed with the need to tell her we didn’t have sex last night.

Because there's a limit to their relationship. There is a defined boundary, and last night doesn't fit within that. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. A moment later, Emile bounds back into the kitchen, bag slung over his shoulder and surely way too energetic for this early in the morning. Leofard just smiles. "Ready?"

The drive back to his dorm takes only a few minutes, but Leofard can't help but sneak little peaks at him along the way. The windows are down because they’re always down, and Emile’s hair blows with the wind while music plays softly, morning light along his profile. Leofard tries not to think about his body curled around his, different from the way they usually touch, and ignores the thoughts that creep into the back of his mind.

He parks outside Emile's dorm, and Emile turns towards him.

"Thank you," he says, his voice so earnest that, for a moment, Leofard can't return his gaze.

"Of course," he returns, and he thinks too hard about what to say next, settling on, "Did it help?"

"It did," he says with a nod, and he leans in close, sliding a hand along Leofard's jaw as he pulls him in for a soft kiss. Leofard gasps against his mouth but leans into it, letting his lips part against his and lingering for too long.

“As a promise for next time,” Emile murmurs against his mouth.

“Next time,” Leofard echoes, opening his eyes as he pulls away. “Let’s celebrate when finals are over.”

Emile smiles. "Good luck!"

He gets out, and Leofard is left to watch him go. Something stirs within him, a feeling that is both unfamiliar and unwelcome, and as the door to the dorms closes behind Emile, Leofard stares for a long moment before he looks back at the road.

Under his breath he mutters, “What the hell...”

He goes for a drive.

#oc: emile jenidaut #leofard myste #emile/leofard #modern au #screaming forever !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#i've been thinking about this AU for a long time now #and it's been so long since i've posted anything #but this project means a lot to me and i have so many plans for them i'm just sdjfsdf yelling #and this might not be a good time to post but i need to finish packing o7 #my writing

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miheartsedthings · 7 months ago

Text

Part Eight

SFW ModernBily x FemReader

Summary: You don't know why Billy is always insisting you don't going around Hawkins at night by yourself. That is, until something horrible happens...

Warnings: ANGST, mystery, anxiety, censored f-slur, verbal abuse

Words: ~3,000

I am SO excited for this chapter, we're kicking off a little story arch that I feel like it gonna be so fun, I'm already have a blast writing it. Let me know what you think in the comments!

“I can't do this anymore.”

Your eyes are clouded with tears, the pain in your expression makes Billy regret every wrong turn in his life which has led him here. Which has made him this person. He tries to tell you this but the words come out all wrong. He scoffs. Too hurt to keep the accusation out of his tone.

“So that's it? You're giving up?”

Your pain is doubled.

“I'm sorry,” you whisper.

His throat twists closed, and as he watches you leave he wishes he could chase after you, but his limbs won’t move.

This is the nightmare he has after returning home. He wakes up with a sheet of sweat along his brow, heart bruising against his ribs. It takes a moment to realize it hadn't actually happened. You hadn't left him.

Yet.

The morning is cold. A gray spring. Indiana-dreary and not worth the trouble of getting out of bed. It's you that pulls him up. The need to see you, to stave off your inevitable breakup however he can. This need drives him through his morning. He checks his phone for you and instead finds Tommy Hagan’s sent a picture of himself throwing up a ‘hang 10’ sign with his tongue sticking out. He’s shirtless and beside him is the naked ass of a passed-out girl. Billy rolls his eyes. Max is loud in the other room, she's a rowdier kid when Neil leaves town. She plays her music louder and stomps around. Now, Billy can hear her stomping toward the bathroom and rushes to beat her there, knowing if he loses she’ll hold him up an extra hour.

They clash in the hall, she with her oversized headphones and her tangled red mop of hair sitting like a mangled bird’s nest on top of her head, he in his boxers with a towel under his arm.

“Hey!” she whines as he wedges into the bathroom ahead of her and slams the door. Billy hears her go whining back up the hall and he knows what’ll happen next. She’ll go complaining to Susan about him, who will then come padding down the hall in those ugly slippers Neil got her the first Christmas they spent together. He cranks the shower and already she's there, knocking insistently.

“Young man,” she calls. “It's ladies first in this house.”

Her voice is too brittle for the command she tries to summon.Try as she might she can't muster Neil's authority, and Billy rushes in under the spray of hot water. It's just as well. Even if he came out now Neil would still hear about him shoving into the bathroom in the first place. He's fucked so he might as well get clean. Susan knocks until Max gives up and stomps away.

After that, the morning gets easier. He's able to focus on the rest of his routine, letting the comfort of clothes he feels good in and taking care of his appearance distract from the sour undercurrent of worry about your relationship.

Morning.

He wrote. But that was nearly half an hour ago already. Why haven't you answered? The thought was a plague. Had he been too rough with you the night before? He realized far too late that he'd forgotten about the condom. Could that have pissed you off enough to make you stop speaking to him?

“Are you running a fever?”

Susan asks this from her end of the dining room table just as Billy is going to the fridge. She's sitting there with her stupid, concerned guidance counselor look and her stupid oversized coffee cup covered in ladybugs between her thin fingers.

“No.” He answers dryly, already annoyed with her and her daughter. He chugs half a protein shake and checks his phone. Still no word from you. “We're gonna be late,” he says, trying hard to soften the edge in his voice.

Susan shrugs.

“Don't you think you go in a little early? I mean, you know you don't have to have breakfast there. I'd cook for you guys if-”

“It's cause he picks up his girlfriend every morning.” Max, her long wet hair drips onto the floor as she comes in. He glares at her, hating the mention of you, the knowledge of you by her and her mom. Max avoids his eyes, gathering things for a bowl of cereal.

“Oooooh,” Susan coos, raising her brows “a girlfriend. My goodness, that's-”

“We're going to be late.” He says again. You'll be left waiting at the gas station and whatever anger you're already feeling will be doubled by the time he reaches you. What will he even say?

“Oh,” Susan's cheeks are flushed and she's smiling as she stands, she gives Max an apple, shushing her complaints. “Come on, hun. Don't make the girlfriend wait.”

She says this with a cheeky grin and wink that makes Billy a little nauseous, though he hates her less at the same time. It's always like this with Susan. She's annoying and useless most of the time and then she'll do something kind. It's just enough to keep things civil while Neil is away. Maybe if he stayed away things could be better. Maybe something close to nice. But whatever, Billy doesn't have time to think about it. He rushes out the door with Max grumbling behind him, her skateboard under her arm.

Max goes for the front seat and Billy glares at her over the hood of the car.

“No fucking way. In the back.”

She rolls her eyes and obeys, sliding to the back door. Her sneer makes Billy that much angrier. What? Did she expect him to make you sit in the back?

In the car, he plays thrash metal in an attempt to drown out his thoughts. Every few minutes he checks his appearance in the rearview mirror and each time he finds a new thing to fix. A lock of hair out of place, a smear of protein shake on his lip. Fuck, how'd I not notice what a mess I am this morning? He thinks.

“Your hair looks the same every time you touch it, ya know.” Max says, speaking loud to be heard over the music.

“Shut up.” he answers. “And don't say shit when she gets in here.”

She huffs again, slumping back against the seat with her arms crossed, grumbling something under her breathe. Something in Billy's stomach tightens and his neck goes hot with anger. Everything someone tells this kid is a problem. She feels wronged by everything just like the dramatic little twerp she is. But she's so spoiled she can't even see it. What would happen to Billy if he'd sat there with that look on his face while his dad drove? He saw a vision of his dad's reddned face twisting back to look at him, eyes full of fire, asking him if he'd hurt his feelings in such a mocking tone that it stung.

“Is the little f****t gonna cry?” His dad would say.

He'd be mocked halfway to school, the other half his dad would complain about him and his mom. She who he blamed for turning his son into a pussy. Billy would have to just sit there, knowing better than to say anything. He'd force his expression neutral, force all the hurt inside. He had to behave or he wouldn't survive. But this kid sits there huffing and puffing over being told to shut up. Just that, as if it's such a big deal.

Spoiled. Brat.

By the time Billy and Max arrive at the gas station you’ve been waiting fifteen minutes and his stomach sinks to see you aren’t there.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, heart racing. He goes to his phone, still no message from you. “Fuck, fuck!” he hisses, throwing his phone into the passenger seat. His whole body goes warm and his leg starts bouncing. What the fuck is he gonna do? Just then, you emerge from the gas station with a smile on your face. Such relief floods over him that it almost makes him lightheaded. He tries to breathe evenly, tries to be his normal, unaffected self even though he was just on the verge of catastrophe.

God you look good.

You’re just wearing jeans and a band t shirt, but you’ve styled it, tucked it in and added a belt with a big silver buckle. You wear bracelets and earrings and your hair is doing that magic only you know how to pull off. Besides, your ass looks amazing in those jeans. You hop in and the cabin fills with the warm sugar smell of you and you’re smiling at him. He can finally breathe.

“Hey,” he says, turning down the music.

“Hey,” you lean over and kiss him and then you notice Max in the backseat. You laugh a little in surprise. “Oh, hey Max.”

Max offers a tight smile and turns back to the window. Goddamn brat, of course he didn’t mean to ignore you if you spoke to her. He’s about to say something about how rude she’s being but you stop him.

“I got you something,” you say, and before he can guess you pull a little dangly thing from behind your back and hold it up between you. It’s a keychain of a little teddy bear in a biker jacket.

“No shit,” Billy laughs, taking the little bear into his fingers.

“Its a ‘thank you’.”

He looks at you, then. More than a little surprised to hear that. What the fuck has he done to earn a ‘thank you’?

“For what?” He asks, trying to keep his tone level, keep it all inside. You smile wider.

“You know,” you say softly, suggestively “For…comforting me.”

He realizes you’re talking about the night before, and its almost unbelievable, the weight that falls away. All that worry from the morning, all that fear that he’d messed up in what he’d done to you the night before. It’s like antidote to a poison. For a moment, he’s at peace, you’ve done it again, somehow. He grins.

“Of course,” he says, “That’s what I’m here for.”

On the way to school, your hand is on his knee. He almost doesn’t want to bring up the thing about the text messages, it feels so needy, but it’s gnawing at him. Finally, as he lets Max out of the car and continues into the parking lot, he asks about it as nonchalantly as possible.

“Oh, you messaged me?” You ask, innocently confused. You pull your phone from your bag and find it completely dead. “Ah, damn.” you mumble. “I didn’t plug it in last night.”

Another cool rush of relief. He shakes his head, chuckling.

“You’re kind of an airhead, you know that?.”

You frown.

“Can I borrow your charger?”

One more day. One more morning and things are still alright. But for how long? How long can he keep this up?

Billy finally seems calm, until a text comes through from Max saying she won’t be needing a ride home later.

Wouldn’t wanna get in the way. She adds. Billy is seething over this message when he shows it to you.

“The little shithead,” he calls her.

“She’s 13, of course she doesn’t wanna ride around with her brother, she wants to be with her friends.”

This only makes Billy red in the face. The two of you are just walking into the building and you’re hoping to turn the mood positive again before you have to part ways.

“That doesn’t fucking matter,” Billy says, “If I don’t keep an eye on the little brat…”

You take his hand and kiss it, shushing him before he can get to the part about his dad’s anger. Afterall, Neil’s anger is inevitable.

“She’ll ride home with us,” you promise, though you have no control over this, “It’ll be fine.”

The two of you have reached the hallway outside the cafeteria and he leans with his back against the window. His shoulders sag and you can see him wishing he’d had a cigarette before coming inside. You loop your arms over his shoulders and pull him into a hug.

“Three more months,” you whisper, reminding him how much time stands between you and graduation. “Then you’re all mine.”

He softens, despite himself. His nose against your neck, his hand on your hip. If only he could stay like this. It’s then that a teacher passes, instructing the two of you to ‘Leave some room for Jesus.’

Billy lets out an aggravated chuckle, rubbing his hands over his face.

“Where the fuck are we?” He groans.

“Not in California.”

“That’s for fuckin sure.”

“Not yet, anyway.”

He looks at you, and you’re struck once again by the beauty of his eyes. Tired as they seem.

“You meant that, huh?”

“Of course I did. You’re gonna teach me how to surf, remember?”

“Gotta learn to swim first.”

“That too.”

You go quiet, looking down.

“Hey, I really mean it, by the way. Thanks for last night. I didn’t know how much I needed that.”

His throat tightens.

“I mean, my pleasure.” he says, trying to seem unbothered. “You didn’t care about the…the condom, thing?”

You make a face, a half smile, half grimace.

“Yeah, about that…can I ask you for a favor?”

“You can try,”

The old rebuttal pops out automatically.

“Could you…would you take me to the clinic later? I’m gonna get a pill.”

Oh. He didn’t expect the little pang of hurt in his gut. He remembers the time he thought you were pregnant and all that hope. He shrugs.

“Sure. You feelin okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just that the sooner you take it the better so…might as well do it today.”

Billy agrees, yet he’s sad at the same time. Three more months. You pick up breakfast and the two of you sit eating and talking about whatever comes to mind. Homework assignments, the time you’ll spend on the beach this summer. Camping trips and the possibility of cookouts with your family. Birthday parties. All that theoretical beauty and happiness in your shared future. It puts the two of you at ease. You aren’t thinking about Nancy, and he isn’t thinking about your inevitable loss of love for him. You’re just there, together.

Suddenly, you’re looking down at your breakfast and your stomach turns, just a little twist of nausea.

“Ugh,” you push your plate away.

“You alright?” Billy asks.

“Yeah, ate too fast, I guess.”

You’re in third period when an announcement comes over the PA system instructing all teachers to bring their classes to the auditorium for an emergency assembly. Your classroom is immediately buzzing with energy as people excitedly whisper about what’s going on. You overhear a dozen theories: a teacher being fired over misconduct, a shooting incident at a neighboring school, but it sounds like no one knows for sure. You text Billy.

Assembly?

Fuck if I know.

The student body thrums. What could be so urgent as to warrant an emergency assembly of the whole school? Was there going to be ripple effects for the rest of us? In those tense moments as you all moved as a herd towards the auditorium, anything seemed possible. The school was shutting down, the mayor had decided to visit later in the afternoon, aliens had landed. The theories kept coming, mixing with the everyday dramas of the high school population. You spot Nancy on your way into the auditorium. She’s with her Biology class, talking close with Lauren Haysack and Jenny Garrett. You imagine yourself approaching them through the crowd, and in your mind’s eye Nancy forgives you the moment she sees you. She smiles and links elbows with you, bringing you into the circle.

Of course, you don’t go over. You look away, and then Sydney Wells asks you what you think is happening and you make up something simple. New fire codes, something stupid we really didn’t need an assembly for. But hey, at least you’re not in class. It takes a while for everyone to find a seat, and even after they do the principal and guidance counselors mill around on stage whispering to one another. The principle looks worriedly over the mass of faces, the hum of voices filling the space. His cheeks are bloodless and slightly sunken.

Finally, a door opens and seemingly all at once the students look back to see Sherrif Hopper making his way toward the stage. You look around for Billy then and spot him on the other side of the auditorium, two rows from the back. He raises his brows, in mock seriousness.

Look out bad guys, Barney Fife is in the building.

You grin, but when you look up to the stage again all the joking falls away. A few teachers have joined the others on stage and their faces have each grown grave. They look out over the rest of us with apprehension and pity, as if taking one last look at our innocence before it leaves us. You lean back in your seat, watching Hopper join the others and share more quiet exchanges. You wish they’d just come out with it.

Finally, Hopper and Principal Drisk stand at the podium, Principal Drisk in front, papers in his hands.

“Alright, settle down, everybody, settle down now, there’s something…something important we need to discuss here. Quiet down.”

The crowd slowly hushes, anxious to learn what’s going on. The Principal wets his lips and glances at Hopper.

“We’ve asked Jim Hopper here to help…put you kids at ease but there’s some…well, there is no easy way to say this. Some of you may have noticed…one of your peers has been missing for quite a while.”

Whispers crackle through the crowd, heads swivel around, suddenly all of you are taking stock of each other, wondering who isn’t here. Is he out sick? No I thought she had a doctor’s appointment. I just saw him yesterday. Hopper takes over at the mic, his gruff voice drowning out the rustling.

“I don’t want anyone to panic,” He says, “We’re looking for Molly Kellerman.”

Your heart sinks at the name, remembering it instantly. The girl Billy had been with the other night. You see her face in your mind, the wild auburn waves, the perpetual blush, the undeniable symmetry of her lending her a simple beauty. Her mascara and lipstick-smeared face at the party. Your stomach turns again. The crowd is still simmering with hushed voices and Hopper is still speaking over them, telling you all to stay calm. You look to Billy, but he doesn’t look over, he’s stone-faced, staring at the stage.

They’ve turned on the projector and put up an image of Molly, a recent one from some family event. She stood beside a woman who must’ve been her mother, sharing the same face. It felt odd seeing her like this when you’d hardly known her, had only felt an odd pang of jealousy towards her because of the incident the other night. Now here you all were peeking into this private moment in her life, all because she was gone. Someone had stolen her. A chill rushes up your spin and you sit straighter.

“She was last seen leaving a party a few nights ago, that would be April 2nd.”

Another drip of ice along your back. That night. She’d stormed past you with tears in her eyes and you hadn’t given it a second thought. Now she was gone. Someone had intercepted her then, at the party or out in the street after.

“What did I tell you about wondering around this town at night?”

You wrap your arms around yourself, which is when you notice a few nearby eyes looking at you. They knew about you and Billy and Molly. You hadn’t cared that they knew, until now. Now that they’re looking at you and looking at Billy in a way that makes your skin crawl. Sydney leans in close to you.

“Did you know?” She asks and you shake your head.

“No. We didn’t know.” You say it loud enough for a few others to hear, but it feels like pushing against a tide. It does nothing and even Sydney seems unsatisfied with your answer. You swallow around a lump in your throat.

“If anyone has any information, anything at all about that night or about Molly, please call the Sherriff’s office. You can be anonymous, you’re not gonna get in trouble. We just wanna get this girl home to her mother.”

Hopper tips his hat and steps away from the mic, the principal returns to it but the room has filled once again with incessant chatter. He tries again to quiet the crowd, but nothing works. The many voices raising together into a thick hive of sound. Anxiety and morbid curiosity boiling over into a relentless energy. All the while, you stare at the picture of Molly next to her mom. Maybe you’ve never really looked at her until right then.

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