#jeez go touch some grass my dudes

[nanoa1foryou]

Saw a hot take that said you shouldn’t give fangifts to a band cause the memebers make 20k a year or whatever. Girl what??? You can’t give someone a gift cause they could buy the thing??? Like sure they don’t know you personally but hello? Are you not allowed to show affection through gifts anymore? Are you not allowed to do nice things at a personal cost just because you want to???

[welovetesvkaidan]

OPINIONS ON KAIDAN EE/IF???

My honest reaction:

in all seriousness, if you wanna hear me yap about it, more under the cut

warning like, genuinely a ginormous yap, like a HUMUNGOUS, sleep-deprived yap,,, im cursed to be obsessed with skyrim + modded followers instead of touching grass

I think a lot of this is probably gonna be the same thing other people have said, so im sorry

if you feel i'm gonna be bringing up redundant points and get mad at me😓dont read

I haven't experienced and thus won't talk about the versions of EE and IF that are now separate mods from each other. I don't know anything about that.

if they're better now yayyy but this is about pre-separation

I should preface this with the fact that I've played through Skyrim 3 times with different stages of Kaidan EE/IF:

The initial Dawnguard + fixes/miscs mod

Kaidan EE/IF versions before extensive faction/NPC dialogue for Kaidan

EE/IF w/ NPC Dialogue (AKA Fratpack)

I was also part of the two different discords that were purged and created during these intervals. i don't even know if there is a discord currently?

anyway, that is to say that I have experienced the mod and it's behind-the-scenes progress, extensively so I have a pretty good idea of what I liked and didn't like

That being said, I will introduce probably my biggest problems with it: Tonal whiplash

Okay, well the most common complaint is ofc that a lot of the writing is out of character - and I agree. But it's not just ooc on paper, it's his voice too. I swear, it is very jarring hearing hushed, mild og Kaidan 2 voicelines, and then being deafened by EE Kaidan SCREAMING in my ear ALL.THE.TIME. (like... why are you yelling at me rn jeez)

Seriously. I'm not sure why they didn't just re-record everything from the original mod instead of adding more and more contradicting lines on top of the originals. It definitely could have been a standalone mod, and sometimes it almost feels like it is - because he is just so different.

My most infamous moment in my last playthrough with him happened after we defeated the dragon at Kynesgrove. His og Kaidan 2 dialogue played first, in it he shows interest and is cordial about Delphine ("I wouldn't mind prodding her mind" or whatver dialogue), THEN immediately after his Kaidan EE/IF dialogue will play, in which he walks up to Delphine and STARTS YELLING AT HER AND INSULTING HER - like they argue for quite a bit wtf. And it's like, listen, I have my thoughts about Delphine, but whether or not it was okay to yell at her isn't the problem. It would be fine - IF he hadn't just calmly told me he thought she was okay.

It is sooo confusing how he contradicts himself :(

I mean, yeah, fragments of who he is are still there, I can tell it's Kaidan, but he's warped to fit a different character. Like a con-artist Kaidan.

Anyway, besides the contradictions, it also feels out of character because of his established backstory.

Let's go over it: He's an orphan, lost his only connection to his family(his guardian) to drugs, fell into substances himself, joined a violent cult, had to escape said cult, came clean from his addictions, has been traveling Tamriel bounty-hunting, got brutally attacked by the Thalmor, rescued by mere chance. Do you honestly mean to tell me this man would be yelling, pissing, drinking, lewding, and joking his ass off?? After all that???? NO - or maybe not these levels of extreme. (maybe some other dude might, but Kaidan's characterization insists he is a brooding, keeps-to-himself man, even though he never acts like it anymore)

That man should be tired, and he did feel like he was tired in the original. He was more brooding then than he is now, usually silent, but could still have an edge of comedy/wittiness, he was smart, he had been through a lot!

In that regard, EE/IF Kaidan felt like... we are experiencing Kaidan 10 years in the past - like a Kaidan in his early 20s when he was still a drunkard low-key terrible person. He is just so energetic, always yapping - GOD he talks a lot now. ugh but most of the time it wasn't about anything, it was either inside-jokes, meta jokes, and only occasionally did we get things that added to the experience.

For example, I think most of us who have played Kaidan 2 remember at least one specific line he has said while exploring. What comes to mind for me is either "Can you smell the magicka in the air too? Smells like a rainless thunderstorm." or "Watch for the mammoth with the carvings on their tusks, that's how the giants mark their herd." Alright, both pretty nice small talk for characterization (he IS smart) and worldbuilding.

Tbh i can't really remember any iconic lines from the additions of EE/IF Kaidan... the only two lines that stood out for me were: the "elevenses" line from the clip above (started bumping into him every time he was about to say this so he would stfu... total tonal dissonance), and one he said while I looted Lucky Lorenz ("poor sod wasn't as lucky as his namesake would have you believe!") kai HOW do you know this man, and his nickname, who told you that??? (idc about it that much but its like the only other added line i remember)

I thought that maybe his ooc-iness might have been caused due to the collaborative approach of the mod, I think the mod authors created their own perfect Kaidan - and that's good for them! It takes a shit ton of work (Ik cuz i was there!!) But I think the original essence was lost with each addition. It might have been lack of direction for the voice acting too, a lot of the lines might have hit better if they weren't borderline screamed.

Okay, at some point while playing I got so tired of his constant himbo chit-chatter that I tried tuning him out and bringing other npcs from vanilla skyrim as followers. Problem: even without kaidan on your party, everything starts being about kaidan. Because the extension made it so that Kaidan either has history with/character interactions and development with different NPCs from the base game.

The main poor sods that traveled with me:

Erik the Slayer: Apparently was Kaidan's childhood friend, got inspired by Kaidan to become an adventurer. Least egregious in my opinion, they say sweet things to each other. I swear, Kaidan yells more at me than he ever did at Erik.

The Companions: dumb, dumber, and dumbest basically.. This part of EE/IF was also known as "The Fratpack" and y e a h they pretty much had Vilkas, Kaidan, and Farkas acting like immature frat boys all the time. Just,, absulutely taking away all the maturity out of these GROWN ASS MEN. im sorry, i guess i dont get the appeal. I liked it when they didn't behave like teens (Aela im so sorry, you deserved better than being part of this)

Lydia: All she does is simp for him, ALL.THE.TIME. You think she's about to have a meaningful thing to say? nope, she's checking out Kaidan's ass. Think she'll have a deep convo with another npc about one another? nope! she wants them to tell her all about Kaidan. Both the Companions and Erik will either talk down to her or have to deal with her thirst for Kaidan. i had to start leaving her home.

They also suffered from the same tonal whiplash as Kaidan, unfortunately

additionally, the mod added an "early flirt switch" - you could basically toggle Kaidan to start showing romantic affection for the Dragonborn before the amulet of mara., the interactions were good on paper, but everytime he stammered and stumbled over his words it was written in such an unnatural way... pls people don't talk like fanfics lol !!!

I did like that he gave me flowers, my inventory got full of them - but then he noticed how many flowers I had in my inventory and judged me for "picking everything i see" ugh dude you gave them to me, but also even if you hadnt... mind your business lol

Another addition was a feature that basically made it so NPCs could potentially throw flirtatious comments at Kaidan and the Dragonborn (Bishop flashbacks😨)

You can't do anything to defend Kaidan from those comments, but he WILL take it upon himself to defend your honor infront of any men, women, jarls, or criminals that even so much as find you attractive (THIS INCLUDES FARKAS AND VILKAS BTW :( ) by being rude, forthcoming, AND violent. so yea, you can guess the target audience

speaking of which, he definitely comes on too strong on you once you start the romance, and it left a bad taste in my mouth. I specifically picked the "go slow" option for the romance, and the next day or two it was him constantly complaining about having to go slow under his breath, how he wanted to do anything but slow rn... and like just, wow. :/ yikeees lmao

Maybe this is the result of "i can fix him" romance ideals? im sorry but I liked him when he was down to earth

Bonus? He comes with a campsite now, which has to be magic because its ginormous and he somehow lugs it around despite it also coming with a whole ass furnace (fine fine i'll hold my disbelief)

anyway I do like it, its basically a player house you can take anywhere (so long as kai is with you ig) also you can have a cat in there

I like that there is an MCM, I like that the MCM lets you get through the quest stages in case you get stuck

I like that he can guide you places, usually he gets stuck in a tree or rock but its the thought that counts

I think if the mod had continued in the vein as its original iteration when it was just audio/bug fixes and included these qol features it would have been better than it is now.

But it seems maybe i'm just not the target audience, and as a young woman I'm really confused as who the target audience is 😓

okay im srry rant over

if anyone else wants me to yap about other kaidan skyrim things also ask or join in cuz i like yapping about skyrim and kaidan to people!!!

[ohgodimafraud]

allergic to touching grass - t/diapt (u/rushihara)

this fic is like just over 1k words and takes place s2e13 when theyre all weeding bc the landlady asked them to and the demons are all paranoid about the Girl Talk situation. i j think he shoudve sneezed the entire time idk.

“You haven’t moved from that spot in an eternity, Urushihara!”

Urushihara squinted up without moving his head at the cause of the sudden shade from the overbearing sun. Though he generally considered Ashiya’s complaints to be a nuisance, he found the scolding easier to tune out than the summer’s heat. Eventually the rampage would end if he pretended to try.

He made a point of ripping out a singular weed a few centimeters from his shoe.

“For shame! You didn’t uproot it properly. Miss Sasaki is doing far more of the work than you.”

“Ugh, dude, lay off.” He rubbed at his eyes with the heel of one of his hands, and when that did nothing but aggravate it more, he took a portion of the cooling towel hanging around his neck to scrub at his eyes and nose. “It’s too hot and I’m all ih-itchy. I agreed to some light weeding,” he paused to sniffle twice, “not cooking out here indefinitely.”

“It’s not even been thirty minutes.”

“Would go faster if you’d leave me alone.”

“Sire, please!” Ashiya cried out to Maou like a wife begging her husband to discipline their delinquent child. Japan really had done a number on them all.

The wind whooshed a few falling leaves across the yard. 

Maou sighed. “Sorry you had to see this,” he mumbled to Chiho, who was generally too happy to be there to care about their eccentricities. “C’mon, guys. Behave for once.”

Suzuno gave Maou a long, silent stare as she walked past him. He huffed in response and averted his gaze from her judgment. If looks could kill, she wouldn’t need that mallet.

Urushihara squinted up at the sun as he ripped out another singular weed and put it to rest with its brethren. It was starting to feel like he had inhaled fluffy dandelion seeds and they’d gotten stuck up his nose, though it was highly unlikely considering that those weren’t even the weeds that were growing on the property. His vision had gone from blurry to bleary, only briefly clearing when he squeezed out another irritated tear. The itch in his nose had blossomed into something monstrous and requiring all of his focus. He grabbed the end of the towel and brought it up to his nose while his breath hitched fruitlessly.

Maou looked up from his task. “Dude, are you crying?”

“No, i-iht’s…Hehh…ugh, my n-nose ihh-is…hihh…” 

“Ah,” he said, nodding and waving his hand dismissively, “Take your time.”

Urushihara managed to open his eyes enough to shoot him a glare before pitching down into a portion of the towel. “KSHHH’ieeh! hh…Ehkshhiih! HYSHHHh’ieeh! Guhh…sh-shuttup!”

“Don’t talk to his majesty in such a disrespectful manner!”

“ihYESHhh’iehh!” Urushihara responded, cheeks turning a pink flush to match the visible irritation of his nose. 

Maou sighed again. Nothing could ever be easy. It was bad enough that Chiho, Emi, and Bel were hiding something, but now this task was being dragged out and Urushihara was once again looking worse for the wear. It wasn’t like this would hinder their investigation—if anything gave them more of a reason to visit the bathhouse afterwards—but still, he was wondering if subjecting his laziest demon general to this moderate manual labor was worth it when he was barely contributing anyway. “Jeez…you good?”

“Do I, like,” he started in a deadpan tone, paused to sniffle and consequently sneezed from exasperating the tickle in his nose, “hihgKxshh’ih! s-sound good?” He scrubbed at his nose from behind the towel that had turned into a rough excuse for a tissue. 

“Always with the theatrics,” Ashiya mumbled, diligently pulling the weeds in Urushihara’s vicinity. 

“Dude, that’s yihh—IHtSHHh’ighh! Guh…shit!” He rubbed his eyes so he could roll them properly at Ashiya. “That’s your thing, not mine.” 

“How dare you!”

Suzuno, who had already had enough of her neighbors this afternoon, interrupted the start of what likely would turn into another pointless tiff with a neutral observation. “Lucifer, your face is looking blotchy. Could it be an allergy?”

“Dude, what else would it be?” He rubbed his nose and scowled at the multiple pairs of eyes on him. The urge to sneeze refused to subside or even significantly diminish in spite of all of his efforts. Pawing At his nose seemed to exasperate his suffering. “hNGT’SHHuh!” he sneezed, failing to suppress it. It left his ears ringing and his nose burning. He gave a dry cough and shifted his head so his side bang would cover more of his face. “IhhGKhshh’ieh!

“You were fine on the farm, though,” Maou said, furrowing his brow. 

“I think the pollen count is really bad today,” Chiho supplied gently as she approached them. She found a packet of tissues in her bag and offered it to Urushihara like he hadn’t thrown her off a building only months ago. Bygones and all that. He accepted it wordlessly, without so much as making eye contact. “Different locations have different types of it too.”

“What, he’s allergic to touching grass now?” Maou sighed as Urushihara blew his nose noisily into one of the tissues. “Hey, at least say thank you, man.”

“He can’t ride in a car, be near a small cat, can’t clean, and apparently can’t venture outside. What can he do?”

Urushihara glared at the grass and muttered obscenities under his breath and something about hacking government databases before sneezing again, fumbling to bring a clean tissue to his nose. 

“Give the poor guy a break,” Chiho interjected, trying to keep the peace as always, “This isn’t his fault.”

“Please, Sasaki-san,” Ashiya said gravely, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose, “He’s happy to have an excuse to laze about. Last week he pretended to have arthritis to shirk his one task of folding the laundry.”

“Dude…really?”

Chiho and Suzuno stared at him.

“I just said my hand was cramping up!” Urushihara’s voice cracked as he yelled.

“From playing all of those incessant games!”

“Can we not air out all our dirty laundry right now?” Maou slumped forwards, his smile hanging by a thread. “For once?”

Ashiya bowed and swore to pick up the slack, and Urushihara went a few yards south to continue sneezing his way through the remaining tissues in the pack. By the time the weeding was finished, Emi had arrived to whisk away Bel and Chiho. Just as planned. 

“ehTSshhh’ieuh!”

Kind of. 

Emi immediately rolled her eyes at Urushihara and commented, “Wow, he looks like even more of a hot mess than usual.”

“...shut up.” 

[yikesharringrove]

Show Pony

Chapter 6

Winds Change

Read on Ao3

-

Five days.

They had five days left together.

Billy tried not to think about it, but it was kinda hard to ignore.

Stalls were already being taken down, fair games being packed up into large shipping trucks to take across the country.

One of Max’s beloved funnel cake stalls had already met the way of the shipping container. She was pissed.

And yet, Billy and Steve did their best to pretend like the rodeo wasn’t coming down around them.

A perfect symbolism for their fling, or whatever, crashing down everywhere they look.

Billy spent days in Steve’s sweaty little airstream, brushing his fingers over that muscular body, calling him a hick and a horse girl and every other fake insult he could think of.

And Steve spent all that time lacing his fingers with Billy’s, winking at him from his place on top of one of his three gorgeous mares as he did victory lap after victory lap, roping calves in under ten seconds, slamming Billy against the walls of the airstream, adrenaline from the stunt still pumping through him.

The field saw them exercising Steve’s horses, taking a ratty blanket out there in the middle of the night to watch the stars.

And it was stupid, Billy pretending that this was more than just. A convenience.

Steve was on his knees, and Billy threaded his hands into that thick hair, tugging it this way and that, the way he’s learned Steve likes after some weeks of mewling whines.

Billy was backed up against the gate of the makeshift paddock, shielded by the prying eyes of the other rodeo workers by the long-set sun and the sounds of the day’s crowds filtering out of the grounds.

Steve pushed down, taking Billy’s cock all the way in his throat, breathing heavily through his nose, the nose currently pressed flat against Billy’s pelvis.

Steve was a champion at a few things: calf roping, horse riding, and dick sucking.

He pulled off Billy’s dick with a slurp, rolling his tongue along the head, humming slightly as he did. His eyes were dark, staring up at Billy, something like a smirk sparking in them as Billy fell apart.

He took a breath, ready to move back in and finish Billy off when there were footsteps.

“Steve! I gotta check Loretta’s hock.”

They both froze, Steve’s eyes going wide with shock, his lips still stretched around the cock in his mouth.

Billy had yet to meet Jim Hopper, the horse specialist that watched out for Steve’s three mares.

He guesses he was about to meet the man right about now.

Steve yanked his face off Billy’s cock with an unmistakable slurping sound that made Billy’s face go bright fuckin’ red. Billy fumbled with the fly on his shorts, and Steve took charge, roughly pulling the button closed and the zip up. It was a miracle he didn’t catch any skin with the quick action.

Steve was on his feet as Jim rounded the edge of the fencing, eyeing the two of them standing far too close, Billy’s face red and full of guilt. Jim raised a hand, his eyes closing as he breathed heavily out his nose.

“I don’t wanna know. Just let me take a look at your girl.”

Steve shrugged, acting like this whole ordeal was just another day at the rodeo.

Maybe it is, Billy’s brain supplied.

They were so fucking. Obvious. Billy could just drop dead right there on the grass.

Jim was a big dude. Beefy and broad, his face was clearly weather-beaten. Well, what of his face wasn’t covered with a graying beard and mustache. His left cheek pudged out slightly with what Billy realized was chewing tobacco when he spit casually at his feet.

“This is Billy. I told you about him,” Steve said with a smirk.

And Billy just about had a heart attack when Steve made a big show of wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, smirkin’ like the devil.

“Yeah, kid, I’m just here for Letty.”

The horses had been allocated to the horsebox for the night, as it was much warmer in there for them. Not that it was cold in San Diego at night, but still. Steve worried. Billy thought it was cute.

Steve led Jim off towards the box, clapping him once on the shoulder as he passed, making Jim groan and spit a dollop of yellow-brown saliva after Steve.

Billy felt like he was about to turn into some thick hot liquid shame when Jim gave him a bit of a once-over, raising one thick eyebrow at him. Jim’s mustache twitched, and he spit to the side before turning on his heel, following Steve to the horses.

Billy has never been more mortified in his life.

Steve’s mentioned Jim a lot. He always calls him Hop. Said Steve himself gave him that nickname. Billy has kinda sussed out that Jim is something like a pseudo-dad to Steve. The one to teach him how to really care for the horses. The one to teach him to properly tie a calf.

All the shit that Steve was made of, Jim taught him.

Billy had put together that Jim’s daughter was the one Max was scampering about the grounds with. Steve said he had adopted Elle when she was about seven.

His face gave something away when he said that. Making a look that said there was a story there, but Billy didn’t wanna ask.

It’s not his story to know.

Billy followed after them, keeping a wide enough berth from the pair that it was weird. He knew it was weird. But it was either this type of weird, or the weird of inserting himself into their conversation when Jim obviously knew what they had been doing seconds before he found them. Steve was about as subtle as a gun with those grass stains on his knees, wiping at his face like he needed to prove a point.

Billy lingered outside the horsebox.

Loretta had been lagging lately, and she startled whenever Steve laid a hand on her left leg.

Steve had just about sobbed when he told Billy he thinks she’s hurt herself.

Billy wished he had a cigarette right about now.

“Yeah, I think the poor girl’s just havin’ some inflammation. Probably tweaked her leg just right on the arena dirt.”

“Is she gonna be okay? What does she need?” Steve sounded more serious than Billy’s ever heard him. There was a weight to his voice that only reared up when Steve mentioned his father, a slight quiver in his words that made his anxiety palpable.

“She’s a tough one, Letty. Let her rest for about two weeks, only mild walking, and some ice at the end of the day wouldn’t hurt, either. We’ll talk after that and see if she needs anything more.”

There was something of a pause in the horsebox, and Billy held his breath, ignoring the fact that he was clearly eavesdropping now.

“You being careful with that boy?”

“‘Course I am.”

“Because I meant what I said last time. I’m not posing as your dad to get you an appointment at the clinic again-”

“ Jesus, Hop. I thought we agreed never to talk about that again, huh? And besides, I’m grown. I can make appointments for my own STD tests now. Plus, it was all fine.”

Billy nearly choked.

It’s not that he’s never had a scare before, and he and Steve were safe, but still.

“Good to hear, then. But you being careful ?” There was another silence from the box. One of the horses whinnied.

When Jim continued, it was with a much softer voice than before.

“I ain’t never seen you so attached before.”

The horse whinnied again, and Billy pictured Steve wrapping his arms around June’s neck and hugging her close.

“He’s under my skin now.” A scuff that sounded like Steve’s boot brushing against the hay-covered floor of the box. “First time I wasn’t ready for a fling to be over.”

Those words crashed into Billy’s gut, knocking all the wind out of him.

He suffocated on them, drowned in Steve’s melancholy voice as he said them.

First time I wasn’t ready for a fling to be over.

It stung at the same time it made Billy’s heart soar.

It hurt and it healed and it made Billy wanna throw up and lock Steve in his basement so he could never leave him.

Or maybe something less totally wacked-out and creepy.

“You know I love you like my own, but you gotta manage yourself. I ain’t judgin’, I just don’t wanna see you all hurt again.”

“Jeez, that was some real sappy shit there.” The mood shifted with Steve’s deflection, and Billy could hear footsteps leaving the horsebox.

He scrambled over to Steve’s little airstream, pretending he hadn’t been listening and freaking out over what he was hearing.

There was just. There was a whole lot to take in there.

Jim said he didn’t want to see Steve all hurt again, but also said he’s never seen Steve so attached before.

When had he been all hurt before if this was, in Steve’s words, the first time he wasn’t ready for a fling to be over?

And Billy didn’t want to hurt Steve, but it kinda, in a real shitty way, made him feel a little bit better that he wasn’t the only one ignoring the oncoming end out of sadness and a need to prolong whatever they had left.

That, and the added little bonus that Jim had once pretended to be Steve’s father to get him an STD test from a clinic.

Billy feels like he’s been punched in the face over and over again by that short conversation he heard. And he would know. He’s been decked in the kisser too many times to think about.

He leaned against the cold metal wall of the airstream as Steve came into view, Jim heading in the opposite direction towards the fairgrounds and the rodeo being shut down for the night.

Steve smiled at Billy, this soft, calm little thing that made the warm summer air even sweeter in Billy’s lungs and the words keep ringing through his head.

First time I wasn’t ready for a fling to be over.

He could see something in Steve, now that he knew what to look for.

How carefree and easy he seemed anytime he was around Billy, but those devastating moments when he seemed to bite his tongue against saying something more meaningful, or shied away from a briefly intimate touch.

Billy could finally see his own anxiety in Steve at their dwindling time together, and it broke his fucking heart.

Robin had warned Billy not to get attached. She told him Steve slept around and played the field and left before anyone could get in too deep.

But he wonders if Robin had warned Steve against the same thing. If she had told him that Billy was going to fuck and run. That leaving someone behind can sometimes hurt just as much as being left behind.

He hopes that if she hasn’t, she’ll be there for Steve. That she’ll pick him up and won’t let him break his own precious heart anymore.

“So, how’s Loretta?”

“She’ll be okay. Poor lady just needs some rest and some ice, and she’ll be feeling her best in a few weeks.”

Steve matched Billy’s stance, leaning against the trailer and tilting his face to the starry sky.

It was quiet out in the sea of trailers. Now that the spectators had all gone home for the night, the cheering crowds and amplified commentators weren’t reverberating through the open grass.

Instead, they could hear the rodeo animals that had been put in their nighttime areas. The many whineys and brays from different horses spread through the place.

The rodeo seemed so fucking magic to Billy.

Something like Heaven.

“I’m going soon.”

Billy doesn’t know why Steve said it.

They both knew that fact.

He thought they were both aggressively ignoring that fact.

“Yeah. You are.”

Billy didn’t know what to do with his hands.

He really didn’t want to have this conversation. Ever.

Because talking about it makes it real.

And God fucking forbid Steve breaks it off now and not in the allotted five days they still have to laugh and fuck and be free .

He pulled out his slightly crumpled pack of cigarettes, lighting one deftly.

Steve didn’t smoke. Said his grandpa died really horribly of lung cancer.

Billy knew this was going to be a serious talk when Steve didn’t make one of his usual snide remarks about Billy smoking.

“I just wanted. To be sure,” Steve trailed off, still looking at the spangled night sky. “We need to be on the same page.”

That we’re probably, most definitely, in love with one another but too stupid and too poorly timed and too tragic to say anything about it.

“I think we are.”

“Okay. Okay. Good. Because, I mean, I really don’t want to hurt you, and, like, our arrangement’s been the same since the beginning.”

Arrangement.

That word.

Arrangement.

It was a fucking ugly word for whatever beautiful thing they had between them.

Arrangement.

It made Billy feel cheap, and used, and so fucking stupid.

And feeling like that only meant one thing for Billy.

He got fucking mad.

“So, that’s it then. You’re done with me. Onto the next poor sucker in the next shitty town that’ll fuck you through the mattress and hold your hand until you decide you’re sick of ‘em. Great. It was so nice being your fucking whore. Thanks for the. Opportunity.”

He wished he chewed tobacco like Jim. He would spit a glob at Steve’s foot. Probably make it land right on those stupid fucking red cowboy boots.

Steve finally looked at Billy, his face scrunched up and those beautiful eyes of his looking somewhere between lost and hurt and angry and confused.

“Billy, that’s not what I-”

“No. No, Harrington, I fucking get it. You go town to town, and feed these fuckers a sob story about how hard it is for you to connect with people, and that you’re lonely and your dad sucks, and all this other bullshit. When really, you’re just an insecure asshole with intimacy problems who’s too fucking stupid to get a fucking GED.”

Fuck.

The second the words were out of his mouth, Billy knew he had gone way too fucking far.

Steve’s eyes flashed, and his face seemed to morph right in front of Billy’s eyes. He was closing himself off right where they stood. Getting ready to chuck Billy away and never see him again.

And Billy fucking deserved it.

“You’re calling me an insecure asshole with intimacy problems? The only friends you’ve got are coworkers that only pity you because they can see how fucking pathetic you are. You beg for scraps like a fucking dog and the second things get tough you ignore it, or get angry at it, like a stupid goddamn child . You think you’re so tough. That you’re the only one with problems . You’ve got your head so far up your own ass that you don’t realize that shit sucks all over, and that everyone is just as miserable as you are, we’re just able to fucking make something out of ourselves instead of wallowing in self-pity.”

Steve’s little speech left Billy feeling dumbfounded.

He was seething with a rage he had never felt in his life before. Anger at himself, and anger at Steve for being so fucking right. For letting all of Billy’s flaws and insecurities tumble out of his mouth like they were nothing.

He took a long drag from his cigarette, leaning forward to put it out against the door of the airstream, leaving a tiny circular ash print on the painted cow. It looked like a bullet wound on the poor thing.

It’s how Billy felt.

“I hope your horse fucking dies.”

It was childish.

It was so dumb, and childish, and Billy really doesn’t hope any horse anywhere dies, especially Steve’s three wonderful mares, but he’s feeling something he thinks he could call jilted, and he’s hurt and upset and genuinely at a loss.

He didn’t let Steve get another word in. Just turned on his heel, and left the little cowboy behind.

[not-ready-for-sheeh]

Mmh i just saw a picture of Ichi with a vacuum and started to wonder how would cleaning day go in matsu household?

Lol i actually love the images i get in my head for this

Osomatsu:

• Sweeping/dusting duty

• You know with like a feather duster

• Uses it as a chance to relive some of the stuff

• Tells stories about everything

• Even this one fork he remembered throwing and it landed between the tv and the wall

• Get’s distracted a lot

• Bored

• Only motivated to sweep w/ someone else

• Might circle the house

• Pranks

• ”Osomatsu....did you just stack all the furniture”

• ”It’s a wonderful finesse”

• ”You took the fucking tv out of the wall-”

Karamatsu:

• Closet duty

• This man sucks at mantaining all his damn clutter

• Like he’s disorganized dude

• Precisely why he’s stuck with closet duty

• Once said he wants to throw away he doesn’t use

• Whines occasionally when he’s bored

• Ends up finding all his knick-knacks

• And an uneaten sandwich

• Contemplates eating said sandwich

• May just set it aside

• Where Jyushi will spot it

• And steal it

• ”What’s in this?? Is this mayo?? Or mustard?? Relish??”

• ”BROTHER NO-”

Choromatsu:

• Manager duty

• Yelling ball of bossiness

• 400% willing to fling someone out a window

• Doesn’t do much

• (When he gets pointed out, he denies it severely)

• ”Y’all ungrateful morons can at least make this place clean instead of sitting around snorting pringle powder like cavemen”

• ”I’m willing to starve against this shit”

• ”WHAT DID YOU SAY?”

• ”Nothing your majesty-”

Ichimatsu:

• Reparation duty

• Probably handling the small stuff they’ve been meaning to fix up

• Wearing construction belt

• Choromatsu insisted on strapping a hard hat onto his head

• Grumbling to himself

• Eating sandwiches

• Napped on a bench outside

• ”Shittymatsu if you so much as breathe on the table i just fixed i’ll turn your ears inside out to hear your own stupidity”

• ”Jeez okay brother i’ll just sit on this chair-”

• ”nO I JUST GLUED THA-well. It’s stuck to your ass now, that’s what you get for using only 12 of your IQ points, asshole”

Jyushimatsu:

• Yardwork duty

• One, cuz he has a change of getting the house on fire

• Two, cuz he likes nice days outside

• Rakes together leaves

• Encounters little animals

• And an exploring cat don’t tell ichi

• Somehow turned the cleaning into a day in the sun

• Lays in the grass

• Contemplates the meaning of life

• ”If i glue both my hands to my feet, i’ll just be a neverending circle of human”

• ”JYUSHI CAN YOU HELP ME WI- why are you laying on the ground?”

• ”Can’t talk, need superglue to test a theory”

Todomatsu:

• Laundry duty

• The king of clothing care

• Has piles and piles of separated colors/groups

• Almost threw Osomatsu to the river at some point

• Accidentally ofc

• Is swimming in a warm load of laundry after drying

• Found Ichimatsu napping at the bottom of one pile

• Delicate separating of clothes when folding

• Hyperfocused

• Do not bother him

• He may drown you in bleach

• ”Oh there’s my sweater-”

• ”DO NOT TOUCH WHITE SPECIMEN #42 I HAVE A FUCKING SYSTEM”

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter thirty-one: the man in the mirror

Joey touched her hand yet again but that time he handed her the gloves he had tried to give her before. The heavy rough fabric brushed against her palm such that it tickled her.

“Put these on,” he told her, “they'll protect your palms in particular. Here—I hold the stick for ya.”

Sam traded with him as they stood still on the ice: she slipped on the glove onto her right hand and then she followed with the left hand. He then handed her the stick, but he peered down at his wristwatch again.

“We’re almost getting down to the wire in here,” he told her, “it closes at five. And even though it’s Friday, I still wanna get ya home before it gets too dark out.”

Sam flexed her fingers inside of the gloves. They felt as though they were made just for her hands.

“You can keep those, by the way,” he told her as he spread his legs and extended the hockey stick before him.

“You sure?” She was taken aback by that.

“Oh, yeah. They’re too small for my hands, and I have a couple of other pairs back home, anyways.”

“I can see you cutting up a pair of gloves and making a quilt somehow,” she confessed as she kept her eye on the hockey stick before him.

“Grind, rail, and cut it up?” he asked her, complete with a grin on his face.

“Grind, rail, and cut it up, yes!” she laughed out loud, such that it filled out the whole rink. Joey guided her back to the fence around the rink, and he let her onto the hard floor first.

“You got the guards nearby?” He let out a low whistle.

“Right here—“ She set down the hockey stick, and then she put one foot up and stuck the first one on the blade, and followed up with the other one.

“You’re a natural,” he remarked as he stepped onto the solid ground and followed suit with the guards. Joey put the stick across his shoulders as if he carried in jugs of water for them.

“Kinda dying of thirst right now,” she told him.

“Yeah, me, too,” he said. “Let’s go to the cafe around the corner, unless you wanna go somewhere else.”

“Nah, let’s go ahead in there.”

“You sure you wanna go there?” he asked her.

“Positive.”

“You sure you wanna do that?”

“Yes!”

“You sure?”

“Yes! Yes! Oh, god, oh please yes! Yes, Joey! I want it!”

He clapped his hands. “That’s what I wanted to hear!”

They both laughed and headed back outside. A bit of darkness and some deep violet clouds had swept over North Syracuse, and the cold lake effect rain was beckoning over their heads. Joey offered to put their things in the back seat of the car, and then they headed up the sidewalk to the little shop around the corner. She recognized those five heads of solid black hair against the impending darkness.

“Hey, Chuck,” Sam greeted him, and Legacy turned around to greet them. Eric showed them a big grin.

“Hey, little Sammich,” Chuck said with one arm around her.

“Sammich?” she giggled, and Louie joined in on her other side.

“Sweet and tasty like a little sammich,” Chuck added. She turned her attention to Louie to her right. He nudged a fine piece of smooth black hair out from his eyes and even in the dim light, she could make out the pain in his face.

“How are you?” she asked him.

“Doing alright,” he replied in a low voice, “nice to be back in California, I’ll say that.”

“Lou’s tough,” Chuck assured her. “He’s got a drum kit and we hopefully have a record deal under our belt now. Three years of fighting the club promoters—“

“And school,” Alex chimed in from right behind him.

“—and school, too,” Chuck continued. “But I think we got it. Although Eric is the one who formed the band after all, I’m still kind of the new guy—I just overheard it from Aurora and Jon.”

“Sounds like me,” Joey blurted out right there. “I never know what’s going on.”

“Aw, man! You’re my fellow Indian brother, too. I wanna see you rock it, Joey.”

“Let’s go inside, though—I’m dying of thirst,” Eric quipped as he opened the door in front of them. She was greeted by the warm aroma of coffee coupled with donuts and bread. Joey lingered at the door even though Sam huddled with the five men there in the warm little shop. Chuck had his arm around her the whole time they asked for cups of coffee; meanwhile, Louie lingered right to her. These five men who had been in the background up to that point all congregated around her as if they were her best friends.

“Our first fan club member,” Greg said with a gesture to her as the barista backed to the counter behind her for something.

“That’s right!” Eric recalled.

“Hey, Joey, you want anything?” Alex called from behind them; Sam couldn’t hear him there at the door.

“Any perks so far?” she asked Chuck.

“Oh, yes, but—we’ll keep you posted, though. Just ‘cause, you know. Everything that’s happened so far.” He turned his head and they watched Eric take his wallet out of his jeans pocket.

“Eric’s got it,” said Louie.

“Where’s Joey and Alex?” Greg asked.

“They—“ Sam was cut off by Joey shouting outside. They all turned to the front door: Joey was shouting something at Alex.

“What the hell?” Eric stammered.

“Oh, jeez…” Chuck let go of Sam and he hurried to the door. Eric continued to pay, but the five of them hurried outside. Alex backed up to a patch of grass next door to the shop.

“Joey!” Chuck shouted, but it was too late.

Joey shoved Alex to the patch of grass and everyone gasped at that. The bottom of his shirt lifted up and revealed a part of his soft stomach but before he could fix himself, Joey shoved him down to the grass again.

“Joey!” Sam shrieked.

“Hey, take it easy, man!” Alex yelped. “I don't want any trouble.”

“Joe, he's still just a child, let him go!” Chuck joined in.

“My ass on his head,” he sneered. “He's not a child, Chuck, he's eighteen—” And he stared down at the young man laying on the grass. Alex gazed up at Joey, and the street light shone on the side of his oval face to where it resembled to a little full moon. The pearl of gray over his forehead looked to be growing, or maybe it was just Sam's imagination tricking her given the sun shone upon his whole crown of black hair. His full lips were smooth and the tip of his nose seemed to have a sharp point to it. He was like the Jewish version of Joey, especially with the black curls.

Joey himself pressed his hands to his hips as he stood over Alex's body.

“You wanna repeat that?” he demanded.

“It's—It's—It's not a bad thing,” Alex sputtered as he lifted his hands up. “I don't want any trouble, man, come on!”

“Joey, don't do this to him,” said Sam with a wave of her hand; she ran up to him.

“Yeah, man, calm down,” Eric joined in.

“I am trying to learn guitar, you little twerp,” Joey scoffed. “Judgey little twerp.”

“You got all the time in the world, though,” Alex pointed out, “come on, man—I don't wanna fight!”

“Joey, come on!” Sam lunged for him.

“I don't,” Joey said with his hand still raised, but she yanked him away from Alex, and Eric and Chuck helped him up from the grass. Sam led Joey away from there and they rounded the far corner so they were out of earshot.

“Ow—ow, ow, ow! You're hurting me!” Sam then whirled around and clasped onto his shoulders.

“Leave him alone,” she scolded him. “Don't ever do that again, you understand me?”

“Yes, ma'am, of course.” He knitted his eyebrows when he said that, as if it hurt him to say that. Indeed, she noticed the wounded look on his face. She relaxed her grip on his shoulders, and slid her hands down his arms.

“Joey—is there something you want to tell me?”

He shifted his weight. There were so many things that he had on his shoulders and yet she wondered how many people even listened to them in the past.

“It's okay,” she assured him in a gentle voice. “If there's one thing I can take away from being with Cliff, it's that dudes are bad with emotions.”

“Yeah, we are. Especially me.”

“But it's okay, though,” she persisted as she caressed the upper part of his arms. “You can tell me. And I'll tell you what—you can tell me anything.”

Joey shifted his weight and closed his eyes. But she stayed still and she allowed her fingers to do the talking with him. He then sighed through his nose, and he shook his head.

“I'm sorry, it's just—” he began in a low voice, “—kind of a wound of mine. I keep getting pushed into doing that. I keep getting forced into that.”

“What, into learning a new instrument?” she asked him; she stifled a chuckle because it sounded so absurd to her.

“Yes.”

“Why'd you freak out then?” she demanded.

“Because it's—it's kind of a touchy issue for me.”

“Why?” she asked as she set a hand on his shoulder.

“I always feel like I can do it but when I actually do it, I can't. It's like my hands and my brain don't really match up.” He then lifted his gaze to her. “But I do have rhythm, though.”

“You've got the rhythm within you so well!” she declared.

“Well, I'm just here to have a good time, too,” he continued. “I wanna have fun. If I ain't havin' fun, nobody is.”

“Well—who's to say Alex doesn't have fun, though?” she pointed out.

“I dunno—the kid's eighteen and yet he acts like he's twice that age. Too serious. When I was eighteen, I was goin' around clubs in upstate New York and bangin'. The drums of course.”

“Riiiight,” she teased him, and that brought a laugh out of him.

“But—yeah. I was going out and having fun in life 'cause I realized I was an adult and I could do whatever I wanted. He's too serious.”

“He's—studious, I would say,” Sam corrected him. “Nothing to get worked up over, though, Joey. I promise to you.”

“I hope you're right,” he said. “But anyway, let's get ourselves a couple of drinks, what do you say?”

“As long as it's not alcoholic,” she pointed out.

“Of course, of course! I mean, it’s a coffee house. It ain’t gonna be alcoholic.” He then put his arms around her and she rested her chin on his shoulder. “I also can't believe I wasn't able to get to know Cliff more,” he whispered right into her ear.

She sighed through her nose.

“I can't believe all of you didn't, either,” she replied back, also in a whisper. They let go but she kept a hand on his back as they walked back to the restaurant. Alex stood there outside the front door with a wounded look on his face. It was hard to even be mad at him because he wanted Joey to do better. He looked on at Sam as if he was ready to burst into tears right there; he brought a hand to his chest as if something hurt him.

“Please tell your boyfriend to take it easy on me,” he grumbled as he brushed off his chest. And then he glared past her to Joey. “Seeing as I'm just a child and all.”

“Hey, don't push it with me, you little shit,” Joey threatened him, and Sam put herself between in them.

“Alright, that's enough,” she told him in a firm voice; she looked back at Alex and the cold, serious look on his face. She could only assume that same agony with him, especially since she heard it from his mouth when he sat there on the step with Lars. “Okay, we're all hurting right now because tour life sucks and according to Frankie, most of you didn't really get the time to grieve over Cliff. But do what you have to do without wanting to kill each other, though. You can do it. Every last one of you can do it.”

“Do it and then kill each other,” Joey said in a singsong voice; she knew he was joking but it wasn't the best time for that.

“I said that's enough,” she spat at him through gritted teeth, and Joey pursed his lips together. She then turned to Alex, who scowled at the both of them. Beyond him stood Legacy's white van posted at the street corner. She spotted Greg and Louie both climbing into the back section: the former had a pair of coffee cups in hand. “You better get going—your van's leaving. Or, they might just be going where it’s warm. I dunno what’s going on.” He stared at her with those cold, deep eyes: she swore the sliver over his forehead changed colors upon his change in mood. He glared at Joey, who kept his hands pressed to his hips as if he threatened him with something more, and he returned to Sam with a slight raise of his dark eyebrows. It was only for a split second, but his face softened right there for her.

He nodded at her and then he doubled back to the corner. She watched his long black curls trail behind him like the arms of an octopus. He said it himself, he didn't want any trouble. Joey didn't, either, but the trouble was too deep with him.

“What the hell is his problem?” Joey fumed once Alex was out of earshot.

“He's a young smart guy who just turned eighteen and just got out of school,” Sam explained, curt.

“Why are you defending him?”

“I'm not. Joey, I'm here to help you deal with the problems you have, not babysit you or fix you. And it starts with you dropping this moody horse shit and being nicer to him. Alex might be legally an adult, but he's still a teenager, and a teen who lives at home. You're always kind to fans and you're kind to me—why can't you be nice to him?”

Joey folded his arms across his chest and then Sam rolled her eyes at him. The man who taught her to be assertive needed a bit of nudging himself. He was so sweet to her on the hockey rink but this was something totally different than what she was used to seeing. She nibbled on her bottom lip as she searched for the right words. He was there for a good time, but he didn't seem like it at that point.

“Figure it out for yourself,” she ordered him, albeit with a bit of a shake to her voice. “I'm getting something to drink.” She then strode away from there with her head held high because she nudged Joey into himself.

But then she realized she nudged him into himself.

“I'm jealous,” he blurted out, and his upstate accent echoed over the pavement. She stopped and turned back to face him.

“You're jealous?” she repeated, to which he nodded. “Of who? Alex?”

Joey nibbled on his bottom lip and then he scurried over to her even though the van had disappeared. And thus he could talk to her.

“Yes,” he confessed.

“Why are you jealous of him?” she asked him.

“Because...” He hesitated.

“Because why?”

Joey held still. Sam folded her arms across her chest.

“Because why, Joey?”

“He's—younger,” he stammered, and she fetched up a sigh. “He's a younger reflection of me.”

“Of you?”

“Yeah.”

“Joey, there's only one you,” she pointed out, and she took a glimpse at the window next to them. The reflection of the two kids in the window pane. “There’s only one you and only one Alex. No need to feel jealous.”

Eric and Chuck emerged from the shop right then with cups in hand. They both showed her smiles.

“Where you fellas going?” she asked them.

“The Zazulas’ place,” Eric told her as he nudged a curled ringlet behind his ear. “Just spent all my money, gotta work it back now.”

“I’m driving, too,” Chuck added with a beaming smile. “I hope we can see each other tomorrow.”

“Drive safe, though,” she advised them, “and me, too! I want to see more of you guys.” And they both gave her a hug before they turned to Joey.

“Don’t go nuts,” she heard Chuck whisper to him.

Joey then turned to her and he opened the door for her. They were greeted by a pair of paper cups on the counter in anticipation for them. He was silent until he thanked the barista for it.

“It's one year of Spreading already, holy wow,” he muttered as he raised the cup.

“To Spreading,” she announced as she brought her cup towards his, and they made a toast, and drank down that warm, fresh macchiato in unison.

“I have a suggestion,” he said as he held the cup before his chest.

“What’s up?”

“You’re always letting me come back to your place and it’s kind of a hard thing to do for me, just ‘cause it’s a lot of driving, you know? Why don’t you come back home with me?”

“I need my stuff, though,” she pointed out. “Like my clothes and my journal.”

Joey shook his head.

“It’s alright, I can take care of ya,” he assured her. “And I wanna make it up to you, too. I’ve been a jerk lately. I wanna make it right. I pushed a kid, for god’s sake…”

He was a hockey player and somewhere in there lingered a strong voice, a strong good man. All he needed was patience and someone to listen. Sam knew she wasn’t going to fix him, but she could still serve as a shoulder to lean on for the night, if not the weekend. She could finally be his friend for a little while.

[cle1024]

dead loss | hhj

member: hwang hyunjin 

genre: fluff, angst 

summary: life was an exhausting and pointless ride for hyunjin, but you managed to make it a little more bearable while you could.  delinquent!au, friends to lovers!au, coming of age!au 

warnings: smoking, alcoholism, swearing, violence, death, drug-dealing (no usage), lots of illegal stuff my dudes 

disclaimer: there are ships within this story. i am NOT trying to force these relationships on any of the boys, nor am i trying to use them as anything other than an aspect of the story. these are purely fictitious scenarios and relationships, i feel the need to add this disclaimer because some people take ships w a y too far (insisting they’re real to the point where it’s uncomfortable and borderline fetishising) and i don’t want to come across as one of those people. 

a/n: anyway i’m gonna go disappear for another 5+ months 

Life in a small town was peaceful in the outsider’s perspective ― everyone knew everyone, there was a strong sense of community and unbreakable bond built on reliability and trust. People who believed that shit clearly didn’t live in a small town, or at least not your small town. No, in your hometown everyone was a stranger. If you look at them for too long ― alternatively referred to as “looking at them the ‘wrong way’” ― they wouldn’t hate to get aggressive, borderline violent or just straight up violent. There was no trust in this town, how can you trust a stranger? It was a shady and hopeless area that people struggled to escape. Many of you have accepted your future, stuck in this abysmal hellhole, but some things just aren’t easy to come to terms with―especially when you hate the future you’ll inevitably be trapped in. 

A slight metallic scent tainted the air as Hyunjin leaned against the wooden planks of the treehouse, a huff passing his busted lips. He had managed to drag his sorry ass back to the rickety treehouse after sending a simple text to you ― something optimistic and charming: “im going to fucking die. treehouse” ― in the hopes you would come fix his wounds. That’s what you always did after Hyunjin had been in a fight, regardless of whether he asked you to or not. Though he had to ask you this time, even if it was the ass crack of dawn, because he genuinely thought he was going to die any second now. At this point, he wasn’t sure if it was because he’d used all of his energy in the fight, his wounds bled too much, or the result of not sleeping in thirty-seven hours. Hyunjin didn’t think he really cared about dying, everyone has to go at some point, but he did care about whether he would be in pain or alone when he died―and right now, he was both. There was a faint pattering of footsteps in the dewy grass, growing louder until they were gently working their way up the wooden ladder to the treehouse. Hyunjin opened his eyes lazily, watching as you pulled yourself up and into the structure. He smirked slightly and wheezed out a chuckle, “on a scale of one to ten, how dateable am I right now?” You stared at him blankly, scanning over his injuries before huffing slightly and shifting towards him. 

“Losing fights isn’t a personality trait, dipshit.” 

“Yeah, but it makes me seem like a bad boy, huh?” Hyunjin chuckled hoarsely at your immediate eye roll, tilting his head to give you better access to his bleeding face wounds. He winced softly as pressure was applied to the bloody mark on the top of his cheek, a fresh bruise blooming under his soft skin. He couldn’t see all of his wounds, but he could undeniably feel them. His cheek was bruised and bleeding, his bottom lip was busted with blood seeping into his mouth occasionally―he was just loving that―while there were numerous pains to his abdomen, mainly in his ribs and lower stomach. 

“Jeez, you need to stop picking fights you can’t win,” the corners of his lips twitched upwards momentarily, a tinge of smugness painting the action. 

“This is the prime of my life, darling.” 

You scoffed at his excuse, “yeah, you’ll only be young once but you’ll be stupid for the rest of your life, Hwang.” 

“Touche,” he shrugged nonchalantly as your eyes widened in mock offence. 

“Oh, do you want to bleed some more?” The two of you chuckled at the threat, though Hyunjin’s sounded much more breathless and painful than yours did.  

“Nah, only other people are allowed to hurt me. How else would I get your attention at night?” Hyunjin’s comment elicited another eyeroll and soft smile from you. He knew you’d drop everything to be with him, regardless of how sleep-deprived it made you, because that’s what friends did. 

Hyunjin is a delinquent, down to the very definition: “(typically of a young person) tending to commit crime, particularly minor crime.” He does that a fair bit, stealing from different shops run by tired and aging people who can’t be arsed to chase after the mischievous teenager. He smokes, despite his youth, but won’t take a swig of alcohol ― something Jisung often laughs at him for, but that boy was a borderline alcoholic. The tall boy also happened to be involved in fights at least one a fortnight, you sometimes have the displeasure of witnessing them and almost always have the duty of taking care of him afterwards―no one else was willing to do it. You don’t approve of Hyunjin’s lifestyle, frankly you never have, but you know he has his reasons. Besides, he’s a stubborn boy and wouldn’t change even if you tried to force him. He’s reckless and usually impulsive, which became undeniably obvious when he was fifteen, stood in front of a train until the last second so he could dodge it, all with the undying support of his former enemy Jisung ― “You got this, man!” 

“All he’s got is a one-way ticket to the afterlife,” you’d deadpanned, earning a scoff from the other boy. 

“As Teddy Duchamp once said, ‘train dodge, dig it’.” 

“Yeah, but he didn’t stay around long enough to dodge it, nor is he a real person!” 

At the end of the day, it really didn’t matter how Hyunjin acted, he would still be your best friend. He’d filled that position since the two of you were kids, it came naturally when you lived one street away from each other and had fathers with a similar friendly relationship―until work got the best of them. Now they don’t have enough time for their children, let alone each other. They differed in some ways: your father harbours expectations far too high for you, meaning he spends most of his free time reprimanding you for not trying hard enough, whereas Hyunjin’s father was always busy and didn’t really care for his son. As a result, Hyunjin spent most of his time away from home, locked inside that treehouse his father built for him and his childhood friends ― many of them had moved on to other things: moved away, became too good for him, or died, but you and Minho always stuck around, later adding Jisung to the bunch when he and Hyunjin outgrew their petty mutual hatred. Smoking, playing cards or watching scenery while he played with a lighter, it was enough for Hyunjin. 

Sometimes you think about Jisung and Hyunjin’s weird friendship, it’s an evolution you all laughed about from time to time. When the pair were younger, the age of twelve during middle school to be exact, they harboured a burning mutual hatred that continuously burdened their mutual friends ― namely upperclassman Lee Minho; at least, he was the only one of the bunch who stuck around. There was an incident where the pair were ready to throw hands at one another, but Minho and some of his older friends stepped in and told them to squash it, even if momentarily. After Jisung aided Hyunjin in a fight with some older boys from the next town over, the two sparked a short-lived ‘frenemies’ type of relationship ― of course the older boys weren’t scared of two kids who had only just figured out the ego-boost of developing muscle, they were more fearful of Jisung’s older brother as they knew damn well how ruthless he could be; they didn’t want the risk of dealing with someone from the same genes, but Hyunjin and Jisung maintained it was their intimidation that warded the boys off. Jisung initially brushed off Hyunjin’s thanks, but there was a definite shift in their relationship: their sharp insults became sarcastic remarks that garnered a teasing response after the other, then after one incident they were friends. Hyunjin never told you the specifics of the incident and you never pushed, but it was essentially Hyunjin paying back Jisung for saving his ass ― though you later found out the only threat to Jisung at the time was himself. Regardless, Jisung and Hyunjin had discovered their compatibility and Minho had never been happier to see drama fizzle out. He wasn’t a fan of such petty disagreements, “all problems can be solved in this world, either with a fist or verbal expression.” 

“Are you recommending violence?” 

“It’s still honest communication.” 

Lee Minho was truly one of a kind―all three of them were, but it was their varying ability to believe in themselves that set them apart the most. 

The Hwang boy was smart, but he had no faith in himself. At the age of fifteen he’d already accepted that he wouldn’t go far academically, telling you “I’ll become one of those tradies that gets wolf whistled when I’m trying to do my job, and no one will say a damn thing because I’m a male,” you could remember him taking a short drag of the nicotine stick, “that’s my inevitable future.” That was one of the many ways you contrasted Hyunjin. You wanted to make your father finally accept you as his child again, and the only way to do that seemed to be success ― but at this point you weren’t sure what that looked like in his eyes; everything you perceived as a success was a comical failure to him. You didn’t smoke ― you tried once when you were fourteen and found it dreadful ― and you certainly didn’t shoplift chocolate bars or ‘train dodge’ like Hyunjin, but you still had your downfalls. Rather, you bury yourself in work you couldn’t understand, got pent up over the possibility of failure, and then turned it all in like nothing ever happened―nothing’s wrong. There was a lot wrong, Hyunjin and you both knew it, but neither ever voiced it. All you wanted was to make your father proud, but you always wanted to run away from this godforsaken town and never come back. Hyunjin wanted you to stay around, the kid couldn’t afford to lose another person in his life, but he knew it was your choice at the end of the day―you had to do what was best for you. It was just difficult to accept. It was like life had kicked Hyunjin and rolled all over him, yet you managed to bring a tiny little spark of life in his soul, something that brought him to carry on. You were his rock, you understood him more than he understood himself most of the time. He loved you, not romantically, but in the way people who have no one else who get it love each other, you know? 

He realised he loved you in that way when he was thirteen, after he had his first existential debate with you ― it became a monthly tradition after that: one night you’d silently climb into the treehouse with puffy eyes and a red-tinged face, and he’d never question it because he knew you’d tell him it was fine. Then you’d wonder what happens after death and where you went. Hyunjin had always been firm on the idea there was a Heaven and Hell due to his long standing religious beliefs, and he always assumed he was going to Hell, but those midnight talks always made him realise just how unsure he was about everything ― he didn’t know what or who to believe, but he eventually decided he probably didn’t need to. 

Hyunjin realised he had fallen in love with you when you were sixteen, after Jisung and Minho had convinced the two of you to spend your Saturday doing an ‘adventurous hike’ with them ― you didn’t know it at the time, but the two had found out some pricey drugs had been dropped in the woods, and neither of them were in a situation to refuse the money that would come with selling those substances. The two boys were energetically bounding ahead of you and the tallest boy, Hyunjin and yourself dawdling on the train tracks to avoid any shattered glass mixed in with the gravel surrounding the rails, trying your best to avoid being cut through the thin and worn soles of your shoes. Hyunjin squinted at the sunlight, distracted by his own thoughts and daydreams, too distracted to realise Jisung and Minho had stopped dead in his tracks. He bumped into the older of the two, startling him back to reality with confusion, “dude, what the fu―” his voice trailed off as he watched five men ― as in full grown, adult, ‘probably from a gang’ type of men ― snarl at the four of you. Though, their eyes seemed to be trained on Minho. 

“Lee Minho. You said you wouldn’t come around here anymore, didn’t you?”  

For the first time in his life, Hyunjin saw genuine fear on Minho’s frame as he shifted his eyes and gulped softly; clearly they’d made a grave mistake. 

“Y-yeah,” for you, that was the moment you became alarmed. Lee Minho, the self-proclaimed ‘King of Confidence’, doesn’t stutter, “I know, man. I-I must’ve lost track of where we were, you won’t see me around here anymore. I’m not here to cause you any trouble, nothin’ like that,” he spoke rapidly, desperation seeping through his usually nonchalant tone. One of the men eyed the four of you suspiciously, straining his vision on you for far too long―Hyunjin sensed it, pulling you out of his line of vision with a glare. He was always one to protect his friends, reckless enough to put himself in danger to do so, it was nothing new for any of you. 

“I better not see you around these parts anymore, Lee. You got it?” Minho nodded firmly, “good. Now go,” the man waved his hand in a dismissive motion, “run along with your friends.” 

To Hyunjin, Jisung and yourself, that was your que to turn around and never look back; but Minho knew these men, you didn’t. The oldest knew it would never be that simple, and that became evident when he saw the shining tip of a dagger being pulled from one of their pockets. The four of you reacted fast, running purely on fear; Minho frantically pushed whoever he could reach, without looking, in the opposite direction, urging you to run as fast as you could to get the fuck out of there. Hyunjin grabbed your wrist securely, tugging you in the other direction and refusing to slow down for a second, even when he heard Minho and Jisung yelling distantly. Your legs slowed down slightly until the both of you stopped in your tracks, much to the dismay of Hyunjin. 

“Hyunjin, we have to go back.” 

“They can handle themselves, Y/N.” 

“We can’t just leave them!” You pleaded, gesturing to the distant figures of your two friends. 

“And I can’t lose you!” Hyunjin yelled back, startling you into a momentary silence. It was built on uncertainty, confusion and hung heavily in the air for a few seconds, until the sound of approaching footsteps, the sound of frantic running to be exact, and Minho’s frantic yells of “move your fucking asses! Run!” broke the tranquility. 

You didn’t find out what Jisung and Minho had argued about until you were twenty-one years old and attending Minho’s funeral: “When I was sixteen, he was going to risk his life to save myself and my two other friends. We yelled at each other; I couldn’t leave him behind to get beat up or blatantly killed by the people who confronted us, but he couldn’t let me in harms way. I only found out why he cared so much and risked his everything, all the time, three years after it happened. But, that’s a secret we all promised to take to the grave.” 

All four of you promised to keep that secret ― you’d all promised Minho that you wouldn’t out him, have his parents disown him during or after his life, and you all took that to the grave. Jisung lost the ability to love romantically when he was twenty-one; he’d given it all to Minho and allowed it to be buried with him. He wouldn’t have it any other way, though. 

You were officially eighteen and two months, not that the months meant anything. Both you and Hyunjin were anxious about turning nineteen, yet he didn’t want to voice it and destroy the wall he’d built around a certain part of himself―his fears. Being nineteen meant he had to act like an adult: get a job, support his family until his parents found out he had enough money to survive on his own and kick him out, settle down and have his whole life figured out. Nineteen would mean the death of his youth: no more skipping chemistry because it was insufferable or only showing up for woodwork classes, no more train dodging because it was ‘immature’, no more stealing or the shop owners would actually make an effort to ensure his actions had repercussions since he was no longer a delinquent teen. The worst of all was the thought of losing his friends; he already saw Minho significantly less than he used to due to his two jobs ― a barber during the daylight and a bartender during the hours between ― Jisung would probably continue secretly writing poetry ― though the three of you secretly knew he did it ― and work as a truck driver, or something, to escape the dullness of your hometown for a little bit. You, Y/N the bright one, would probably go on to do great things with your life and be added to the list of friends he lost due to not being good enough anymore. Hyunjin wasn’t sure whether you or Jisung felt the same ― Minho excluded since he was already passed nineteen, with Jisung endearingly referring to him as ‘hag’ ― and a part of him didn’t want to know because he didn’t really want to think about it. Of course, that didn’t stop it from being the only thing on his mind twenty-four-seven. Hyunjin groaned inwardly; losing friends. You were just a friend. Hyunjin couldn’t help but scold himself. He could steal from stores without a second thought, stand in front of trains without fear, yet he couldn’t admit his feelings to you. Then again, your friendship spanned across most of his life, and losing that would mean he would lose you. And, frankly, you were the only thing that mattered to him in life. His parents neglected him, other friends had abandoned him over time or just failed to be there for him, but you never left. You stayed, even when you became far more intelligent than him and practically radiated potential. No matter how much he wanted to, he wouldn’t dare risk losing that. He couldn’t lose you, he’d told you that before ― although, when he thought about it, and he absolutely thought about it, he’d lose you regardless of what he did or didn’t say. 

But, he had to put those thoughts aside. It was a fresh summer, after all, and there was supposedly no room for sadness in summer. There was only room for happiness, laughter, good vibes, getting high on the good vibes, or just getting high and conforming to the sickly summertime syndrome people were often infected with. Thus, Hyunjin had tried to spend the new season conforming to such a syndrome―excluding the fight where he was beaten within an inch of his life and had you fix him up, that probably didn’t fit the mold of a fun summer. It’d been successful to an extent ― the local pool had far too many people, including neglectful mothers attempting to flirt with the underage lifeguard Kim Sunwoo, and the beach was littered with shattered glass, plastic and cigarette ash mixed amongst the sand ― but the weather was still nice, and Hyunjin did play a soccer game in the park last weekend. That was it, though. The rest of his time was spent mowing the lawns of other houses for some extra cash, pocketing cherry lollipops and dealing decks of fifty-two cards for games that would be inevitably cheated in―like you were now. Hyunjin, Jisung and Minho were in a heated game of Go Fish, a cigarette dangling from Hyunjin’s plush lips and intoxicating the midday air, while you half-focused on the game in amusement, half-focused on the dusty comic book you’d flicked your way through. It’d been buried under many other prints of various comics, all neglected as time and puberty had lowered your interest in the bright illustrations. You couldn’t remember ever reading this one though, it was probably one of the rare collections Hyunjin refused to share through his childhood. A huff passed the lips of the oldest as he lost yet again, mumbling something about disrespectful youths and how they had obviously cheated. Jisung snickered, earning a wack in the gut from an agitated Minho. He scooted over to sit beside you, reading over your shoulder in an attempt to show his disinterest in the card game ― though it really just made him look like a sore loser, and it was quite clear he had zero interest in the childish story you held. A frustrated groan sounded as he threw his head back against the wall, as dramatic as ever. 

“I want to go outside,” he complained. 

Hyunjin scoffed, “there’s the door,” gesturing to the entrance with sass. 

“No,” Minho hissed and narrowed his eyes. Man, he was really spending too much time with those cats, “I want to go outside outside. Like, camping or something.” 

Jisung threw his hands up in defeat, “well, why didn’t you say so!” He exclaimed in exasperation, “I’ve got everything you need to go camping! No one in my house uses it.” 

Oh, Jisung’s house. What a nightmare that was―or, rather, looked like. It was dilapidated with a rusty truck parked in the driveway, a large shed in the back acting as storage for years of hoarding, of course there’d be something for camping in there. Jisung had once told you that most of the stuff in the shed belonged to past owners who never returned to get it and he’d, for some reason, seen it as a tradition that has to be carried through each owner. You didn’t press the idea or criticise it, the boy seemed really excited about it after all. 

“Welcome to my shed of wonders!” Jisung introduced. It was so, so, dusty. You were almost certain some of the junk within the metal sheathing dated back to the 19th century, maybe the 18th if you really analysed the dilapidated furniture and crumbling artefacts. Jisung hummed in thought, “there’s gotta be a tent in here somewhere…” He strolled into the shed, seeming to know exactly what to move and how far. The rest of you stared at the collection in awe―you kind of understood why Jisung prided himself on the contents of his shed, some of those things would make a good buck on Antiques Roadshow and keeping them must’ve given Jisung some sort of positive emotional release, perhaps a feeling of “I have a get rich quick scheme, I’m just choosing to be poor”. Probably made him feel better when people gave him crap for not being able to afford cool toys as a kid. You’d never seen the torment Jisung received, nor did he ever desire to speak about it, but Minho had been vocal numerous times in his distaste for the way the younger was treated. Jisung had a heart of gold, something Hyunjin could acknowledge even when they didn’t get along. He was the kind of boy who deserved nothing but greatness; he was destined for greatness. You could always pray the town didn’t suck the potential out of him, as it did to most others, but you knew those kinds of prayers go unanswered. Jisung’s epiphanic “a-ha!” derailed your thought train, your eyes shifting to see the brunette male pulling a large tent from one of the many, almost overflowing, storage units. 

Hyunjin squinted his eyes in confusion, “how did you even find that?” 

“It looks a hundred years old,” Minho added. 

The youngest male rolled his eyes at their comments, dusting off the green tent. An excited smile graced his face as he turned to face the three of you, “alright, where should we go?” 

The sun beat down on you, a light sheen of sweat glistening over your burning skin. How long had it been? Thirty minutes, an hour, two hours? You hadn’t a clue. The last time you ventured down railway tracks you ended up running in fear of men who had a vendetta against Minho―for reasons you’d soon find out. The oldest had evidently learned his lesson, guiding everyone in the opposite direction and away from any men with reasons to stab him for walking in their ‘territory’. Hyunjin dawdled beside you, eyes trailing the railway the four of you walked along. Minho was leading the group, Jisung chewing his ear off in a conversation that probably didn't interest the older, something about the spirits in the woods you were approaching. You could barely make out the faint scoff that passed Minho’s lips, but the younger seemed to hear it clear as day. 

“I’m serious! If we don’t get murdered in our tents then we get murked by demons in these damn woods!” 

“Is there an outcome where we don’t die on this trip?” Hyunjin questioned with amusement, effectively closing the younger’s mouth and halting more words from spilling out. Minho rolled his eyes at the short bickering, trudging through the forest with an impatient yell, “come on! I want to get there before the sun sets.” It was a dark and dank environment, the air felt musty and thick around your lungs. Trees were overgrown, roots seeping along the dirt trail and serving as tripping hazards. Light dimmed under the cavern of green leaves, yet shadows still managed to dance in the slivers of golden rays. It was tranquil, but also unnerving. In retrospect, it was probably the childhood tales of drug deals gone wrong that put you on edge. Even if it was pure fiction, naive belief was enough to trick your mind into feeling unsafe, watched, hunted. If you ventured alone your fear would have pushed you to the other side of the trail at a much faster pace than you currently maintained, but, of course, you weren’t without company. The aura of discomfort and fear gently wafted in the air ― stronger from the likes of yourself and Jisung, though minimal to non-existent from the two other males. Those two had been fearless since you met them―Hyunjin stood in front of trains for an adrenaline rush! Then again, you weren’t entirely sure as to whether that was fearlessness or recklessness. They were one and the same to that boy. 

The group passed through the forest until you found a clearing, a large field with a distant fence to halt you from further adventuring. It appeared to be the outskirts of town, past where anyone would travel for purposes other than hiking or illegal business. Hyunjin stood still with his hands rested on his hips, observing the area, “oh, this’ll do. This’ll do just fine.” 

Your eyes rolled at the antics of your best friend, trust Hyunjin to say something straight out of an 80s movie―at least, it sounded like it would be. Jisung strolled ahead, hot on the heels of Hyunjin as they ventured through the long grass. Minho eyed the ground suspiciously, hesitance floating through his orbs before mumbling, “there better not be any snakes around here.” His words clearly weren’t as quiet as he had hoped, as Jisung stumbled away from the grass with a sharp gasp at the announcement. A huff passed Hyunjin’s lips at the other boys’ dramatics, causing you to shift an eyebrow in question―he had no right to be judgemental, he was the most dramatic of all. 

“Chill out, you buffoons. There’s short grass ahead, we’ll set up there,” well, that made sense. Clearing his throat awkwardly, Jisung stumbled to his feet and worked to catch up with Hyunjin’s footsteps. 

The process of setting up a tent had been… difficult, to say the least ― “Jisung, how the fuck do we set this up?” “Just read the instructions?” “They’re in Russian!” ― though the four of you eventually managed to successfully pitch the tent. Though, in all honesty, the sun had started to set by the time it was standing. That was at least an hour ago. Now, you lay still in your sleeping bags and mumbled descriptions of distant memories and under-developed universal theories. 

“Hyunjin, move your irritatingly long legs so they’re resting somewhere other than my feet,” Minho grumbled. 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

Your mind wandered back to the adventures of that day, dawdling across train tracks and praying none of the smoking vehicles came running up behind you. The memory struck you like lightning; you remembered the time you dawdled down the wrong train tracks and ran for your life. A slight laugh passed your lips at the image of your younger self frantically running, “hey, do you remember when we tried to almost got murked by that gang on the outskirts of town?” Hyunjin mumbled an agreement, a fond smile on his face. Jisung piped up to laugh about how he almost ‘shit his lungs out of his ass’. Although you were able to laugh now, you all knew there was nothing funny about the primal fear you felt in that moment. The fear of the unknown; of death. Silence settled over the four of you momentarily before Minho voiced new information softly. 

“I almost killed one of them.” 

Jisung just about shot up in his sleeping bag, “what?” he exclaimed. 

Minho maintained his characteristic calm composure as he explained, “yeah, it was a few months before we went down there. I was still hanging out with Hongjoong and that gang,” ah, the days of Minho being a gang. They were fond―somewhat fond―memories, “one of them had beat up Mingi, got the wrong guy or something, so Hongjoong and I went after him.” 

In all honesty, you never knew Kim Hongjoong very well, nor did you remember much about him. You were never close with him and he’d moved away before any sort of friendship could bud, but you knew Song Mingi well―rather, you knew of him. He was a bubbly kid, tall and friendly with a goofy smile. There was something about him that exuded innocence and happiness, like he was crafted by embers of the burning yellow ball in the sky. 

“We didn’t mean to get him that bad, but we couldn’t stop ourselves,” Minho mumbled softly, his mind wandering off to a different space as he blurted out the words, “Mingi didn’t do anything.” 

The three of you shared a look before turning back to focus on the oldest, his face blank as his eyes clouded over with thought, concern, nostalgia. Hyunjin cleared his throat awkwardly, “well, it’s in the past now. We learnt to never travel down those tracks again,” he shifted around in his sleeping bag and closed his eyes. 

Jisung had proposed the idea of keeping someone on lookout, claiming he didn’t want to get “fucking murked by a coyote or something”. There was the initial suggestion of taking shifts, but Jisung didn’t seem willing to take up the role and Minho said he was “too old to skip sleep”. Hyunjin didn’t give you a chance before saying he’d stay up all night ― of course he wasn’t actually planning on staying up all night, just until Jisung had knocked out for long enough to be unaware of the lack of surveillance. It didn’t matter, though, you both ended up out there after you tossed and turned for a solid thirty minutes. The wind was howling, the tent thrashing from side-to-side at the sharp movements of air. Hyunjin sighed with discontent, “why didn’t we check the forecast before we left?” A light chuckle passed your chapped lips. 

“Because the forecast is never correct,” Hyunjin rolled his eyes at your matter-a-fact tone, a slight smile gracing his moonlit features. It was very clear in that moment — and many others, if you were being honest with yourself — why so many girls had thrown themselves at him over the years. All of that started in your first year of school, when a pigtailed girl claimed it was Hyunjin’s neat cursive writing that attracted her, not his cute face—of course that was a crock of shit, it had always been about Hyunjin’s face. It shouldn’t have been, but people were shallow like that. 

His visuals had never crossed your mind, not until your early teenage years at least. You were thirteen when it first struck you, bundled up in sleeping bags in your best friend’s lounge room watching some teen movie. It wasn’t something you focused on, your eyes had drifted to your giggly friend and refused to move. His hair was black, dark eyes curved into crescent moons as he attempted to stifle laughter at the current scene. Skin smooth, blue winter pyjama shirt buttoned up to the collar and a pillow clutched between his arms. With a tilted head, he turned and stared back at you with curiosity, “what is it?” 

You look perfect. “Nothing,” you smiled tightly. 

“What are you thinking about?” The question passed Hyunjin’s lip in a voice of honey and warmth, comforting in the midst of the vicious whipping wind. 

You shrugged slightly as you formulated an excuse, “just the future. What I’ll do after school,” Hyunjin hummed solemnly. He didn’t like talking about the future, mainly because it brought in thoughts of losing everyone and everything he’s ever loved. He didn’t want to think about a world where that happened, even if it was inevitable, though the words manage to spill out before he could catch them. 

“Will I ever lose you?” 

You were dumbfounded. Lose you? Of course he’d never lose you, “how could you ever lose me? I won’t let you, Hwang,” you attempted to brighten the glum atmosphere. 

Picking at his cuticles, he shrugged his shoulders slightly, “I’m not good enough for you, I’ll never be enough for you.” A frown formed on your lips at Hyunjin’s pessimism, eyebrows furrowing in satisfaction and sadness. You never knew he felt so little of himself. 

“Hey,” the word was spoken gently from your lips, hands reaching out to cup Hyunjin’s face and turn him towards you. He still had a scratch on his lip from that last fight he was in, “you are more than you think, Hyunjin. So much more,” the glaze of your eyes held such sincerity and honesty, “you can do anything you want, man,” yet Hyunjin still couldn’t make himself believe you. 

Eyes downcast, “yeah,” he mumbled distantly, “anything.” 

The four of you walked home in a comfortable silence the next morning, accepting it would be the last time any of you felt this free. 

At the age of twenty-one, Jisung became distant. It was understandably so, Minho had been found dead and was buried within a week of the discovery. There was no proper time to grieve about the loss, everyone expected you to go back to work as if nothing had changed—nothing’s wrong. Everything was wrong, so fucking wrong. Jisung and Minho were never ‘official’ because neither of them had the bravery to face discrimination for being something other than straight. You never knew whether Minho was homosexual or bisexual, even pansexual maybe, but it never mattered. All you could wish was that he was happy, at least once, before he was laid to rest. Jisung closed himself off, became a silent and reclusive man who lived on the outskirts of town. He was a truck driver, swinging between different towns before inevitably returning to the one that seemed to have something against him. It sucked the life from him, it took everything from him; he hated that fucking town. You didn’t see him after Minho’s funeral, not in the way friends see each other, at least. Of course you’d spot him in town occasionally, exiting his house or driving back home after weeks away. Yet, you never spoke a word to him. Never said a ‘hi’, never wanted to speak in case it pushed him too far—broke him, if you will. Rather, you let him seclude himself and suffocate in loneliness; if only you didn’t make that foolish mistake. 

When you were twenty-three you bid your goodbyes to Hyunjin, planning to move away and pursue a career that, frankly wouldn’t make you happy, but it would give you enough money to pay rent for a good place. That’s all you really needed, you supposed. Hyunjin bid his last goodbyes with a letter. It was written in his beautiful handwriting, the calligraphy style he liked to brag when he was younger, but seemed to have forgotten about as he emerged into his teenage years — he never forgot, he still prided himself on such perfect penmanship. It was a letter that contained words you never expected your best friend to say, though always secretly hoped to hear. It was a letter that slapped you across the face for being so blind and cowardly. It was a letter about how he fell in love with you, too hard and too fast, and how he always knew you’d be too good for him, one way or another. You hated when Hyunjin put himself down with such words, but you hated knowing that you caused most of them. The boy was incomparable, so unique and one-of-a-kind. There would never be another Hyunjin in your life, never one to take your heart and treat it as his own. Hyunjin was more than he thought. So, so much more. 

“I love you, more than you know. In more ways than a platonic-friendship-type of love. The kind of romantic love that’s, probably, unrequited,” Hyunjin, you foolish boy, your love has never been unrequited. 

Perhaps you were the fool, not Hyunjin, for keeping your mouth shut about your secret attraction for years. Heaving a sigh, your hands folded the letter closed, you were such a fool. 

In your life, you had three great friends that taught you many lessons — many lessons they failed to learn themselves. 

Minho often preached about staying true to who you are, exuding confidence in your identity and being fearless of others. Yet he failed to accept who he was, though that was fair enough in your opinion. He had his own struggles, many struggles, but never wanted to confront them. Minho never wanted to confront, let alone accept, the possibility of being subjectively weak; he struggled under the pressure to conform to masculinity—no weaknesses whatsoever. Gosh, that boy was one of the strongest you knew. One of the kindest, too, a heart of gold, truly. That boy didn’t deserve to die, none of your friends did. 

Jisung often told you to be careful with your feelings, yet easily gave his away to Minho. The boy had always had an eye for detail, noticing the veins in leaves and miniscule dirt stains on a vintage photograph in his shed, but he tended to overlook the bigger ideas. The things that were right in front of him, you supposed. He failed to notice how he gave away his feelings to one person so easily. He never noticed that he left no room for the regrowth or reacquisition of those feelings, but maybe he just didn’t care. Minho made him feel so peaceful and at ease, how could he find it within him to care? 

Hyunjin, where did you start with Hyunjin? Your friend since childhood, your first love, someone you’d never be able to forget—someone you’d never allow yourself to forget. He taught you to be bold, a little reckless to spice up life — though not ‘stand in front of a train’ type of recklessness. He spent years teaching you to overcome your struggles, though you felt as if you failed to tend to his. Of course, he’d never see it that way, but he was head over heels for you. Just as you were for him. The boy had always been talented, insanely so, with perfect handwriting and a unique perspective on the inner workings of life, ambitions and dreams. There was so much potential held inside his body, marked with scars and bruises from the fights he’d had through the years. He’d always told you to never settle for anything less than perfect. Perhaps that’s why he never wanted you to settle for him: he never saw himself as perfect. You wanted him to do the same, go as far as he possibly can to fulfil his limitless potential. But, that didn’t happen—life could never treat him kindly. Hyunjin never made it out of that shitty town. It pained you to think about it — he could’ve been anything, anyone. He had so much potential, yet that place sucked it away and kept him in an iron grip. When you thought about it, you realised none of your friends got lucky like you. One way or another, they all stayed in that town—dead or alive, it didn’t matter, they all remained. Many would’ve seen that as luck being on your side, but without at least one of them by your side—without Hyunjin by your side—what was the point of going? 

Walking back into that town had never felt so eerie. Nothing was the same as you remembered. Visually, nothing changed, yet at the same time everything had changed. You were no longer a young adult searching for opportunities, no longer a teenager stressing over school work, or dragging yourself to the treehouse in the middle of the night to tend to Hyunjin’s wounds. You wondered if that thing was still intact. That’s not why you were back in town, far from it, but something ate away at you. Was your rickety hangout still standing? Or had it fallen apart after all of you left, in more than one way. 

There was no noise coming from within the wooden confines of the treehouse. You were glad it was still there, even if no one used it. It felt like you were running on autopilot, your feet guiding you up the ladder as you opened the hatch to pull yourself into the space. You swore it was bigger than this. Eyes darted around, taking in the old drawings on the walls, outdated comics and dusty packs of cards. Nothing had changed. You gasped, startled, as you made eye contact with another person, sat in a slightly slumped position across from you. The corner of their lip was slightly bloody, a cigarette dangling from the other side. A reminiscent smirk crawled on their lips, it couldn’t be. 

“Long time no see, darling,” he hadn’t changed one bit, “and just in time! You can patch me up before the service.” 

There was a bitterness in his tone, one you could taste on your own tongue as you contemplated the right words to say. It was mockingly cheerful, like he knew everything was falling apart and there was nothing that could stop it ― who are you kidding, that’s exactly what was happening ― “because that’s the only reason people ever return to this town, right? To mourn the ones that’ll never leave.” 

Words couldn’t pass your lips. There was so much you wanted to say: questions, nonchalant agreements, apologies. It was bittersweet, really, to be meeting like this. It was like old times. A bloodied Hyunjin sat against the wall of the treehouse, nonchalant in the pain of being beaten up, fully prepared to be patched up by your delicate, unbruised hands. But everything was different. Minho no longer whinged over losing a card game, Jisung no longer cheated his way to success in said card games. They’d stopped doing that years ago, and it was an activity they could never engage in again. Hyunjin noticed the despair clouding your gaze, guilt etching your face. A frown creasing his face as he caught your train of thought―you had a habit of blaming yourself, feeling guilty about nothing. 

“It feels weird, doesn’t it?” 

You nodded slightly, “almost... wrong.” 

Hyunjin tossed aside the cigarette, crushing it under his shoe before he opened his arms welcomingly. You didn’t realise how much you’d missed him until the moment you crawled into his arms―you missed all of them. All you wanted was to say one last goodbye to Minho, one last goodbye to Jisung. To thank them for everything, tell them how hard they worked, how incredible they were to be around. Fuck, you missed them so much, you couldn’t help it. Tears were already falling and staining Hyunjin’s t-shirt before you could even attempt to keep them in. A solemn sigh passed his lips, hand stroking your hair as a form of agreement. He’d always fantasised about having a solid friend group that lasted into adulthood, then into the elderly ages. A part of him knew it would never end that way, but he didn’t think this would be the outcome of your friendship circle. When he pondered the potential loss of contact he always assumed it would be a result of moving on to better things, better places and people. He couldn’t help but think back to that camping trip; it was the most carefree time in his life. None of you could’ve ever imagined this outcome ― you could imagine moving away and losing contact over time, you couldn’t imagine being pulled apart by something out of your control. You didn’t want to, but who would? The idea of your friends being taken before their time―before you deemed it to be their time―was almost as upsetting as it actually happening. Life and death, it was a torturous cycle for everyone involved. Hyunjin squeezed his eyes shut as fear bubbled in his chest, the fear of losing you all over again. He tightened his grip on you, what tragic lives we’ve led. 

“And then there were two.”

[andaleduardo]

Rooftop - Epilogue

Read on AO3

Summary:

Richie doesn’t think words do any justice to how much you can love someone. But he’ll worry about that later. For now, they stare at the sky.

Wednesday 02.06.1993

(Epilogue)

  The thing about Richie and Eddie is that both of them are touch-starved and attention seekers. Those traits go hand in hand. Or hand in hand, hands in hair, lips on lips and lips on necks.

It’s only been a few days and, so far, every spare time they have is spent with one of them all over the other, which isn’t really different from the way it used to be before but, well. It’s also a hundred times better.

“Rich-” Turns out it’s awfully hard to compete against Richie’s lips. “Rich,” A peck.  “-I’m serious.” Eddie says, breathless, against Richie’s close-mouthed kisses. God, kisses. They can kiss now. Of course they’re still doing it between four walls, away from the world for obvious reasons. But to Eddie, it tastes like the greatest amount of freedom he ever got to experience in his life.

“Stop pushing me away when all I want to do is shower you in honey.”

“What?”

“Look at that, the cutest boy on earth…” Richie speaks more to himself than anything, with half lidded eyes that drip of infatuation while he looks down at Eddie’s face.

“What are you even-?”

Richie moves in again with puckered lips, and Eddie pushes him away in embarrassment from all the sudden affection. “Stop that! I’m serious,” but he really isn’t, “we’re gonna be late.”

With a huff, Richie falls back on his side of the bed. “But I want to hold you all day and I can’t, Eds. Do you know how hard it is for me to not just- koala you in school? I literally wanna hold onto you and never let go.”

It takes every bit of Eddie’s self-control not to feed Richie’s amusement with his overall shyness. He’s been practising a lot of things lately, like trying not to melt with every word that comes from Richie’s mouth, perfecting his kissing techniques (although Richie claims Eddie’s already better than him) and also trying not to get hard every time they make out on Richie’s bed. On top of that, he’s been spending a lot of time staring, because he can. Staring at greasy hair, bony wrists, a lovely overbite, and so on.

Letting himself fall on top of Richie’s frame, Eddie hides an awkward noise against the boy’s shirt. “Quit it with those- those things you say…”

Richie stays silent for a while before mumbling into Eddie’s hair. “…I love it when you get all flustered.”

Despite all these new additions to his daily life, there are some things a person learns after so many years by Richie’s side. Eddie knows that sometimes he has to let certain comments go by without a response, otherwise, they’d still be stuck in an argument from kindergarten. So, he ditches Richie’s obvious try at making him even more embarrassed.

“You know what I love? Ben. And, in case you forgot, his birthday party starts in two hours and you have to go meet the others and help while I go get him, like we all agreed to and oh my god-”

Richie is about to ask ‘What’s wrong?’ when he notices that Eddie is looking at the clock on his bedside table.

“Oh my god, Richie, how long have we been here? We have like an hour!”

“You know what they say. You lose track of time when you’re making out with a hottie.” With both hands locked behind his head, Richie stares while Eddie hurries to put his shoes back on.

“No one fucking says that- get up you dipshit, we’re super late!” Eddie says as he glances back at him.

With a lovely pout, Richie finally gives in and starts looking for his shoes. “Ah Spaghetti, baby, relax. I’m in charge of setting up the table and bringing the couch outside. Can take care of that in a minute, just the same amount of time it takes me to get your mom to-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence.”

    Plans turn out to be less easier than that. As soon as Richie jumps over the fence of Mike’s farm, which was totally unnecessary because one of the gates is a few steps away, he sees Bev storming over to him, and she looks a little angry.

“I can’t believe you’re late, one full hour. It’s Ben’s birthday!” She glares at him harshly.

Richie flinches and wrings his hands together. “Wish I had an acceptable excuse, oh wait… I do.” And then a smile lights up his whole face against his commands. It’s stupid, but Richie feels his cheeks heating up and rushes to cover them up with both hands, groaning shamelessly into his palms at the same time. Beverly drops the pout and snickers at him. The audacity. “Shut up, Marsh.” He whines.

“Oh boy, you’re so smitten.” Richie can practically hear the cocky grin on her voice. He sees it’s there, in fact, as he lets his hands fall at his sides.

“I hate you.”

He ended up giving her the update, without any details, because she knows all the events and stuff about his life. And maybe because he would burst if he didn’t talk about it to, at least, one person.

“You better not hate me. I put up with your lovesickness so I deserve to enjoy the honeymoon phase just as much as you do.”

Richie throws his head back at the same time as he crosses his arms. “Dude, stop giving me a hard time and just tell me what kind of punishment I have for being late.”

Bev rolls her eyes. “Do not call me a dude, dude. And I’m sorry, just messing with you.” She runs a hand through his hair to mess it up even further. “The water balloons are waiting for you by the faucet.” Then, she pats his arm way harder than needed and heads off to the picnic table, which she ended setting up herself along with Stan since Richie was, indeed, busier.

“Love you, too!” He screams after her and waves at Stan, Mike and Bill. Bill gives him the bird and Richie laughs so hard he almost walks straight into the barn’s closed doors.

He rolls the couch outside, trying to make it look easier than it actually is. Turns out couches on wheels don’t work well with grass. He’s tempted to throw himself on top of it after it’s settled on the right place by the temporary hammocks Mike set up in the trees, but instead he drags his feet to the outdoors faucet and stares at the pile of water guns and water balloon packs and tries not to miss Eddie so much.

It’s only been half an hour, but that’s half an hour too long. Now that he has something’s he’s been longing for years, now that he can be with the person he loves so much all the time, a simple trip to the bathroom feels too far away.

With a sigh, he settles down on the grass and starts filling up the plastic guns with water, feeling the back of his neck getting warmer and warmer as time passes. The voices of the others become white noise for Richie’s thoughts and he doesn’t hold memory of opening up the balloons’ package, nor filling up the first 12, knotting each of them, and throwing them in the empty bucket by his side. He’s too lost thinking about the last three days and too stuck on stealing glances at the dirt road to be aware of anything, that’s why he’s completely caught off guard when a water spray hits the side of his face.

“What the-?!” He screeches and turns around to find Stan looking smug with a water gun in his hand. “That’s a dirty move, Stanley, I’m just the poor guy who got stuck with the most boring part of water fights.”

“And I’m just the poor guy who got stuck with your part of the work because you decided to show up an hour later.” Richie really wants to throw a water balloon at him, but those little fuckers take up too much time to fill up to go to waste so soon.

“Jeez I get it, you old people. Richie’s late! Yeah, okay now how about a little bit of concern as to why I was late? What if I fell off my bike or almost got run over by a car?”

“We all know what held you up, Trashmouth. Now work faster or we won’t be ready by the time Ben arrives.”

At a lack of words, Richie’s mouth drops and he makes to get up and throw a water balloon straight to Stan’s face, but the other boy is quicker than him and uses his gun again, spraying Richie’s glasses and running off to help Mike set up the game stations. Richie feels out of breath just from a simple sentence. We all know what held you up, Trashmouth.

It’s only been a few days, but Richie is sure his life will end the day Eddie walks out of it. So, if Eddie’s not ready to share this part of his life with his friends yet, Richie will respect that. Which is why Stan’s comment makes him uneasy. What if someone makes a comment like that while Eddie is around? What if they tease them, not with real meanness, of course, and that makes Eddie uncomfortable? What if it’s all too much to handle for him? What if, what if, what if-

“You need to work faster than that.”

“Oh, fuck’s sake. Stop trying to make my heart stop.” He jumps a little in his seat and finds Beverly sitting down on the grass by his side. She’s already working on filling up more balloons. Richie stares at her for a while to catch his breath before joining her, the bucket filling up way quicker that way.

He clears his throat. “So, Stan knows?”

“Stan knows what?”

“Stan knows.” It’s all he says.

“I don’t know if Stan knows, but I think we all know.” She glances at him. “To some extent.”

Richie doesn’t know how to answer, so he doesn’t. His finger gets caught up while he tries to knot one of the balloons. He watches the skin turn red before pulling it out. He grabs another from the package.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Bev asks after a while of working in silence.

“Thought I needed a brain to have those.”

“Rich-”

He doesn’t let her finish. Grabs the closest water gun and sprays her in the arm. Bev hisses at the temperature contrast and stares at him with her mouth open in shock.

“You did not-” And because he’s a real asshole, he tries to hit her in the nose and ends up giving her a mouthful of water.

“Oh, shit.” It’s impossible to hold in the laughter, so he just crumbles, shaking and falling down to the grass on his back. Needless to say this spurs on a water fight between them, Bev wasting no time in reaching for one of cheap plastic guns and aiming it back at Richie.

They’re in the midst of getting up to escape each other’s aim when the fight is interrupted.

“Hey! Stop wasting ammo!”

Richie’s neck never cracked so loud before. He looks over and there he is, by Ben’s side.

“Ben! Happy birthday!” Bev exclaims and runs to hug him. Richie watches them from the corner of his eye while a staring contest begins between him and a shorter fella.

“You already wished me a happy birthday four times in school, Bev” Ben says with a laugh at the same time as Richie walks up to Eddie, who is looking at him with big eyes, pink cheeks, and a lip between his teeth.

“Hey.” Eddie says, soft and quiet.

“Hey yourself, Eds.” And it takes every bit of self-restrain not to grab his hand and kiss it. He steals a glance at the lovebirds a few steps away, sucking face enthusiastically. “That could be us right now.” He nudges Eddie with his elbow.

He expects more of a spluttering mess of words and cute blushing Eddie. “Who knows, maybe one day.” What he gets instead is a spluttering mess of words and stupidly red Richie.

His chin drops and he peers down at the boy at his side, who is pointedly avoiding looking back at him.

“Don’t get too excited, just trying to play your game.” Eddie mumbles between them.

“My game?”

“You know, you saying dumb stuff that makes me nervous.”

Richie doesn’t even try to hide his grin. “I think you get nervous just by me being there, I don’t even need to talk.”

That really makes Eddie blush, but he’s thankfully saved by the others approaching and dragging Ben around to see all the games they planned. Really playful things like tug of war, three legged racing, water fights, and so on. It was a way of keeping everyone moving, sweating, and entertained.

Thankfully, the hours go by without any suggestive comments or questions from the others and Richie forgets about his initial worries. They have fun, play all the games and get covered in grass stains during their three legged race tournaments. Then they rest by the sofa and the hammocks, eat a bunch of crap from Mike’s big picnic table turned into a food station and go back to playing like kids. Running around playing tag, catching their breaths in hiding spots, and wasting all the water balloons in less than 5 minutes. Most of the water guns end up breaking mid-fight, which leads Bill and Richie to use the garden hose and successfully drenching everyone in a blink of an eye. Mike wasn't pleased about it.

Later, they watch the sunset over the wheat fields of the farm and sing Ben a happy birthday under the golden light. Bev takes out a polaroid camera, Mike brings a homemade cake from the house, and Bill tries to play Richie’s guitar that was still stored in the barn. They ask him to play something for them, but Richie declines, so they go acappella and sing the wrong keys together. Richie lies down in one of the hammocks and feels wave after wave of happiness take over his body. It’s such an incredible feeling to be a part of something real, something so amazing as friendship and love.

He watches Bill lying on the ground and messing up the entire song by pretending to know how to play guitar. Looks at Stan, already changed into clean clothes and sitting on the couch, trying to make Bill stop, saying he’s ruining the song even though he himself refused to sing. Mike is sitting next to him on the couch, but backwards. Head hanging off of it and legs up in the air. Bev is down on the grass and leaning against the same tree Richie’s hammock is hanging off of. Ben is laying against her chest, cheeks so pink and smile so big Richie can’t fight off his own at the sight. They’re singing loudly and badly on purpose, laughing every few words.

When his eyes fall on Eddie, Richie realizes that the boy was already looking at him, probably for quite some time now if the soft expression on his face means anything. His head is resting on Mike’s chest, legs laying over the armrest, and he’s staring at Richie has if he had found all the answers to his questions. Richie doesn’t deserve it, he knows. But he decides to push those ugly thoughts away, he has something beautiful and worthy of stealing his attention, someone worth smiling for.

Their locked eyes swim and search from afar while the sky gets darker and the night takes over. The failed bonfire would be useful now, but the old school lanterns shared between them are enough to keep track of each other’s glowing gazes. They don’t seem to remember subtleness, but they’re just staring and their friends are singing, laughing and remembering past stories in the background.

Eddie struggles when he tries to get up, flinching at the necessary sit-up to leave the couch. All of them will be glued to their beds tomorrow with all the exercise they got today. Richie makes extra space in the hammock and helps Eddie get on it, back glued to his chest and a hug from behind. Eddie’s head falls in the space above Richie’s shoulder. And they observe their friends together in silence.

“Did you ever write a song about me?” Eddie speaks against the skin of Richie’s neck after some time. It brings out goose bumps and shivers, although that could also be from their damp clothes against the night air.

“I’ve tried.” Richie admits. He hugs Eddie’s body closer against his. “Never feels good enough.”

“I’m sure I’d love it, anyway.” Eddie tells him.

Richie chuckles and gets lost in his thoughts for a minute before talking again. “Maybe one day I’ll get it right.”

“Maybe.” Eddie agrees. “Will you play it for me?” He looks up at Richie with big eyes.

“Of course I will, Spaghetti.”

“I’ll be waiting, then.” After that, Eddie shuffles until he finds a comfortable position, the hammock sways from one side to the other as they sing along to whatever’s song they’re currently trying to play.

  It’ll take a while until Richie figures out how to write a song about Eddie. For so long he’s tried to put his emotions onto paper, but every attempt feels wrong, every try feels far from reality. He doesn’t think words do any justice to how much you can love someone.

And later, he ends up following a different path.

Instead of trying to listen to his own brain, his own version of the story, Richie listens to Eddie’s. He lets him talk and cry for hours, holds him close. Hears about every struggle and battle Eddie fought alone. Struggles and battles he didn’t recognize as such, for he was so lost he couldn’t even understand his own feelings. How he’d cry without proper reasons, feel guilty over stares, pray he wouldn’t end up in hell, apologize to an empty bedroom on the nights he couldn’t sleep.

It seems to Richie that writing about Eddie doesn’t have to mean he’ll write about the way he feels for him. It can go many different ways. And the first way it goes ends up being double-sided, for which sentence tells two different stories: his and Eddie’s. And that’s the only way it feels right.

But he’ll worry about that later. For now, they stare at the sky.

  I used to get on my knees And I'd pray for love To come find me someday For love to come meet me my way Your love hit like a brick to the face

And when I put up a fight You put me back in my place I thought I wasn't cut out for this race

You know how I feel You don't need a song But just in case

You're my lover boy, My “stay in bed under the cover” boy, My “only you and no other” boy, My face is red come smother me, boy.

Cause you’re my lover boy C’mon and meet my mother, boy You made me a little tougher, boy My life was black and white But now I see colour, boy

I used to fight things about me That were wrong, to me But then you came along And showed me Showed me where I was wrong So thank you 'Cause now I'm where I belong

You own my heart, You own my heart and it's no one else’s I fall apart And when I fall apart I'm no one else’s You own my heart You own my heart like no one else’s

Always yours

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[zmediaoutlet]

side two, track two

this is a continuation of my previous fic ‘side two, track one’ -- the thought wasn’t entirely complete, it felt like, so here’s a little fic-coda

(read on AO3)

Somewhere on I-25 with the night curling up in misty frost against the windows, Sam falls asleep. Hardly anyone on the road, the occasional semi coming southbound to fill the Impala’s cabin with light. Anymore it’s hard for Dean to choose between trying to handle his crap alone and trying to distract himself, try to focus on anything else that isn’t the drumming thud of an archangel trying to break free of the barely adequate prison he’s making of himself. Feels most of the time like not splintering apart is about the best he can do. The road hums along below the tires and the engine’s rumbling up her usual steady growl, and he’s lost in thought when he realizes the tape ran out who knows how long ago, and he glances across the bench seat to find Sam tipped in, relaxed. He’s slumped down, his arms crossed over his belly, his knees bent toward Dean. His face is slack, soft.

Dean chews his lip, looks a minute longer. Absolutely no one on the road, can’t hurt anything. Sometimes when Sam’s sleeping he looks about ten years old—and what does that say, that it’s the first thing Dean thinks of?

His head hurts. He shifts, on the seat, drives. They said they were going to find a motel, and Dean’s going to, but as long as Sammy’s sleeping he’s got time to think, in the quiet. The almost-quiet. His passenger doesn’t stop rattling inside him, but he’s almost, sort of starting to get a handle on that. Feels—stronger, after today, after yesterday. Turns out there’s something he wants that’s greater than being free of a pissant, whiny archangel, and that all by itself is something that feels a little too big to get his arms around, without some quality road time.

Road rolls under the car, the world all black outside the halo of the headlights. Black fields, black hills. Dead grass barely lit to pale lifeless gold before it rolls out into nothing, until there’s white sparking back and there’s snow on the ground, and he finally gives in to the way his eyes are burning and pulls off for Casper and a motel he remembers that’s decent, or close enough for their purposes.

Freezing, here. North maybe wasn’t the right direction to pick, but he’d felt like a spinning compass, unmoored from any kind of magnet that wasn’t right there in the passenger seat. Here they are, anyway, and he rolls through the crunching snow into a black-ice parking lot, bright neon cutting blue and sharp over everything that reflects, nothing warm left. Alien planet.

He parks right in front of the lobby door and Sam finally wakes up when the engine cuts, starting bolt upright with a shocked breath through his teeth. “What,” he says, and Dean says, “Morning, princess,” and his voice is all road-gravel, unused. “Getting a room.”

Sam shakes his head, touches Dean’s jacket-sleeve, and Dean stops with his hand on the door handle, teeth sunk into the inside of his lip. “Jeez, it’s like—midnight?” Sam drags a hand down his face, eyebrows all a knot like he’s doing math problems. “Wyoming?”

“The Friendly Ghost,” Dean confirms, and Sam snorts, licks his lips, looks at him. “You want to get the room, or should I?”

“You,” Sam says, and sits back into his corner of the seat. The neon light slips over his hair, his skin, turns him blue-silver. His eyes, impossible to see. He bites his bottom lip, blue teeth, and the breath he takes puts an unavoidable beat before the smile he tries to put into his voice. “You can handle it, right?”

He rolls his eyes, even if Sam can’t see it, and makes sure to leave the door open enough for the zero-degree air to get all over all that blue skin before he slams it shut again. Like he doesn’t know it’s a test. They’ve been together long enough, he knows when Sam’s joshing him for real and when he’s covering for something. Even if sometimes he doesn’t know what he’s covering for. Even if, sometimes, there’s something real and blinding that’s right in front of both of them, and they just don’t see it. Well, fair enough, Dean thinks, stamping snow off his boots in the entryway. It was blinding. What did they expect.

When he comes out he’s got a butter mint tucked in his cheek and Sam’s pulling his coat on, standing shivering by the car flank. “Is frostbite one of your kinks?” Dean says, and Sam shakes his head, wrapping the coat around his skinny too-long torso, says, “What room?”

107, hardly far enough away to justify moving the car, but Dean does. Sam walks, for some reason, and so Dean’s alone again in the silent cabin, and he rolls the big black bulk of her over to sit in front of their room, and watches in the rearview as Sam’s narrow black shadow crosses the blue-white landscape. That neon sign is ridiculous, see-it-from-space big. Under the wash of it, there’s enough light for Sam to catch the room key when Dean tosses it to him, and Dean grabs their bags and lets Sam open up the door, and turn on the lamps, and in the bright gold triangle that spills out over the sidewalk Dean sees the second Sam clocks the king bed, and the sees too the look Sam sends back over his shoulder.

Bags on the table, and Dean rolls his shoulders. Fuck, he’s tired and wired at the same time. Nearly one in the morning and sleep wasn’t great the night before. Not that it ever is. Now, of course, there’s this.

“Yeah?” Sam says, closing the door behind them both. Dean blows out a long, chest-deflating breath, and when he turns Sam’s looking at him, shoulder against the door. He flicks the deadbolt closed, tosses the key onto the table past Dean’s hip. Doesn’t come closer. That cut’s still obvious, right across the bridge of his nose, the skin around his eye still purple-red. Doesn't look ten anymore, that's for sure. He's this—man. Familiar, except how he's not. Dean can still feel his hands, and if it was hard to think through in the huge empty night of driving, it's no easier with a closed door between them and anyone who could see, a big waiting mattress behind Dean's back. Sam frowns, lifts his chin. "Okay?"

Dean drops his head. "You keep asking that, like there's a good answer," he says, and he doesn't want to be looking at Sam's face when he says it. Still. Dean's the one who chose the damn room, chose the damn bed. Looked the clerk in the eye when he asked for it and saw how the guy didn't blink. Dean peels his jacket off, dumps it onto the pile of bags on the table, and it's just warm enough in here. Enough to block out the ice planet Hoth on the other side of the window. Not warm enough to prickle sweat in his hairline, on his back—Sam takes care of that, when he sways forward. Dean stays put, keeps his eyes open. He's making a choice. He made one. For Sammy, he's not going to go back on his word.

Sam puts his thumb on the scabbed-over cut on Dean's lip, tracks real careful down over the tender skin below it. His reflex is to cringe away, and for a split second he does, and then he stands still and lets Sam touch him. His body doesn't know what to do with this. Brain caught between yes and can't, and all his muscles and nerves trapped and tense. Sam's eyes jump from his mouth when he feels the flinch, but he doesn't pull back, either. A beat and there's a determined flex to his jaw, his fingers dragging along Dean's midnight o'clock shadow, pausing at the hinge there just below his ear before he steps forward, and Dean has to tip his head back to keep meeting his eyes. "I'm going to kiss you," Sam says, like it's just—information. There's a ghost in Biloxi, there's road work on I-10. Just so you know.

"It's not any less weird if you telegraph it, dude," Dean says, but he stays right where he is with his pulse hammering in what feels like the base of his gut. Sam shrugs, and tips down the three—four—however many inches, and it's the same utterly insane shocky burst of sensation it was that afternoon. Sam's familiar smell—hot breath—lips, and lips aren't all that different from person to person, Dean's kissed he doesn't even know how many people over his tangled up mess of a lifetime, and it shouldn't be anything new except for how it, fuck, is. Sam's fingers are long and hot and tip his jaw up, because for once in his life he has to tilt up to kiss, and he drags in a breath and puts a hand on Sam's waist, a little ballast against how the whole universe seems to have spun off into a Dorothy-style tornado. They sure as shit aren't in Kansas anymore.

When Sam pulls back, he doesn't do it all at once. More information Dean probably didn't need, even if it's turning his bones to melting heavy gold to know it. Sam nibbles at Dean's lower lip, and it hurts but Dean only shivers for it, and his nose brushes Dean's, and he hangs there breathing in Dean's air, and when Dean opens his eyes Sam's right there, still close and still tipping everything ass-over-teakettle. "Hm," Sam says, skating his fingers along Dean's hairline. "Still weird?"

"Uh, yeah," Dean says, in his absolute best you dork tone, and his best is real good. Doesn't matter; Sam's mouth hitches up, dimples peeking, and Dean swallows because it's been—a long time. A long, long time, since they were pointed his way, and Sam seemed… happy. He licks his lips, tastes Sam. Shrugs, and squeezes Sam's waist where he hasn't been able to make himself let go. "Guess weird's okay with me."

"That's because you're a freak," Sam says, soft like it's a secret, and he actually grins for real when Dean shoves him, and—yeah. It's ridiculous, crazy, maybe the stupidest thing they ever did. Stupidest ain't the same as worst, though, and it turns out, somehow, it's not in Dean to regret it.

He takes a shower. "You're not invited," he says, just in case he needs to make it clear, and Sam raises his eyebrows but—there's a line, even in this. Too much, too soon. His head throbbing, fists pounding inside his skull. The shower's quick, anyway, and Dean's not up for the vagaries of wet neck-breaking sex with this little sleep under his belt. Motel bathtubs and easily detachable curtains and two big guys—no. Maybe, though. Back home. The shower room's big, and they've showered together there once or twice before, when both of them needed to get the monster-grime off right away. Not looking at each other, even in all that light, although—Dean wasn't looking, except how sometimes, sure, he'd catch a glimpse, and things got filed away in the back of his head. He never caught Sam doing the same, but it doesn't mean Sam wasn't doing it.

He comes out in his boxer-briefs still rubbing his hair dry, to find just one of the bedside lamps on and Sam sitting in a thin undershirt, pajama pants, braced on the side of the mattress. Waiting. Ain't that a kick in the teeth. "Answer a question for me," Dean says.

Sam frowns at him, even if his eyes sweep quick from top to bottom. "What?"

That look. Dean bites the inside of his cheek, tosses his towel over his shoulder to land—wherever. Sam huffs, and it's so their-whole-lives Sammy that something clicks, settles. "Relax," Dean says, even though he knows that winds Sam up, and sure enough Sam's frown swoops lower and Dean rolls his eyes, even if he's biting back a smile. Can't let Sam know how endearing his pissy-face is. Wouldn't be nearly as satisfying to drag out, otherwise. Dean touches his shoulder, though, and the look fractures and dissolves, Sam looking up at him and the new thing between them hovers practically solid in the air.

Dean's too tired, though, and one revelation a day is maybe enough. Sam's fingers wrap around his wrist. "So," Dean says. "Sharing?"

Sam lifts a shoulder. "You're the one who got the king," he says, but he knows what Dean's asking. His mouth tilts, acknowledgment. The strangeness doesn't stop, even if they're looking at it head-on.

They climb into bed, and it's a big bed but they're big guys, and there's not as much space between them as Dean would've thought when he turns onto his side, curls his arm under his head. Sam mirrors him, and his knee bumps just under Dean's in the warm soft cave they're making, the snow heavy outside. Years, since they've shared a bed. More than a decade. "You remember—" Dean starts, and Sam grins before he can even finish it.

"That ghoul job in Kennewick," Sam says. "Man, that sucked."

It did, and hard. A spare room in a creepy house, and neither of them would take the floor because rats there were the least of the nasty crap that might've crawled out. Salt around the bed and they climbed in and fought for space, but it was warm, and they managed a few hours, kneeing each other and fighting for the blanket. Nothing fraught, like there is now, and even so they woke up pressed together, back to back. "Wasn't that bad," Dean says, now, and Sam's grin is softer, and his hand slips across the little space between them and touches Dean's arm.

"You kick, though," Sam says.

"You kick," Dean says. "And you're a blanket hog."

"Says the human burrito." Sam shakes his head, but his hand circles around Dean's arm. "Yeah, no answer to that one."

"Not dignifying it with a response," Dean says, but he's—distracted.

Clamor, inside his head, and it must be visible somehow on his face because Sam's expression changes. God, Dean wishes he could be done with this. Then again—he tried wishing for that, and look where it got him. Sam's looking at him, right up close, and the soft jokey smiling's all gone now, a frown in its place. Dean sighs, pauses a moment. Envisions himself full up to the brim with cold iron, sigils carved in and burning like with holy fire. A solid, impenetrable thing, a prison of him. It works. The throbbing stops, and it's quiet, and he doesn't really realize he's closed his eyes until Sam's pulling at him, bringing him closer. Dean scoots in, and even through the pajamas Sam's body is a warm shock. He takes a deep breath, slow. Lets it out slower. Says, "I'm tired of this," and he didn't really mean to be honest, but if now's not the time—and Sam doesn't say anything, but he slides his arm around Dean's waist, and it's weird. It's so, so goddamn weird. No reason for it to feel as good as it does.

Heart's desire. That's what the pearl was supposed to do. Dean made a wish, in words, and it wasn't granted. He got something else—something crazy, mind-bending. He got the opportunity to make a choice and, more than that, to watch Sam make one. Thing is: Dean's answer was only ever going to be the one he gave. What a life they've had, that when Sam said the same, it didn't feel like a surprise as much as… yes. Of course. That old promise, offered and accepted, all over again.

"What was the question?" Sam says. Dean starts. He's drifting off, even with the lamp still on. Sam's warm all over his front, the weight of his arm heavy on Dean's side. "Dean? You were going to ask me a question."

"Yeah," Dean says, muzzy. He pushes in closer, tips his weight in. A hand on Sam's hip. Little anchors. The question already got an answer. At least, the answer that mattered. He shakes his head against the pillow, golden-dark seeping through his closed eyelids. "In the morning, Sammy."

A huff. "Sure," Dean hears, and then there's press of lips against his forehead. Barely there, brief and light as air, but it sinks down, anyway, right down into the too-full chamber of his chest. Could've been too much, but it turns out that for Sam there's always another inch.

[squirrel-moose-winchester]

Supernatural Crack Attack Challenge Masterlist

I want to thank everyone who entered my challenge. I truly appreciate it. I’ve got a lot of first timers in writing crack and all of them did an AMAZING job! These fics had me giggling all the way to suddenly bursting out in laughter. If these fics don’t help brighten up your day, I don’t know what will. I hope you all enjoy these hilarious gems! Make sure to let the author know how amazingly talented they are, because well... they really are.

Also, PLAGIARISM is UNACCEPTABLE. These are the author’s original work and ideas, and they had put in a lot of effort to write these stories. REBLOG!! Do not copy, paste, or alter any of these stories without the authors consent!

THANK YOU!!

**SMUT WILL BE IN BOLD**

I Am You, And You Are Me Written by @theworldiscolorful​ (@purpleskiesandcherrypies)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: You woke up one day to find yourself in Dean’s Body

Warnings: Smut (oral, a bit of dirty talk, a bit of panty kink), Crack (what is smut and crack? Smack?)

Prompt: Switching Bodies

The Hottest Garbage Man Alive Written by @evansrogerskitten

Pairings: Jensen x Reader, Jensen x Jared

Summary: In our reality, Jensen Ackles is perfect and glamorous. What if in a different life, he was something ordinary like a garbage man?

Warnings: Crack fic! Oral sex (male receiving,) implied smut, fantasizing, AU

Prompt: Awkward Moments

Flammable Angel Farts Written by @deans-jiggly-pudding

Characters: Castiel, Dean, Sam, and Jack

Summary: N/A

Warnings: canon-typical language, fart jokes, crack

Prompt: Allergic Reactions

Sam Who? Written by @winchesterprincessbride

Characters: Dean, Sam, and Reader

Summary: After an unsolved case that may or may not have been a witch, the reader wakes up with no memory of her boyfriend, and it gets old for Sam and Dean very quickly.

Warnings: Crack

Prompt: Temporary Memory Loss

Something Isn’t Right by ME!! (This fic is posted on my main masterlist)

Characters: TWF 2.0 and Reader (mostly Jack)

Summary: Jack’s clothes don’t seem to fit right and when he meets up with the others, he’s finally enlightened as to why.

Warnings: Crack!

Prompt: Wardrobe Malfunction

Freaky Friday by @bamby0304

Characters: Sam x Reader, Dean, Rowena

Summary: Sam wakes up in a bed he didn’t fall asleep in… in a body that isn’t his. When he finds his own body asleep in the Bunker library he also finds you occupy the body, confusion ensues. Dean can’t stop laugh, you can’t stop freaking out, and despite everything Sam is- once again- the only person who can keep their head on… well, your head on… his head on? Jeez this is confusing.

Warnings: Explicit language. An attempt at crack. Body swap, obviously. Fluff? The slightest bit of angst? Implied smut.

Prompt: Curse

Hide and Seek by ME!! (This fic is posted on my main masterlist)

Characters: Sam x Reader, Dean Winchester

Summary: Sam and reader are babysitting and things get a little heated when they share the same hiding spot.

Warnings: Crack!, Not really smut… but… slight Smut? PG-16? Dry Humping, Tight Spaces, Things touching things… lol.

Prompt: Accidents

Talk Psychology to Me by @bamby0304​

Characters: Dean x College-Student!Reader

Summary: The morning after meeting and rejecting Dean, you bump into him again. The two of you sit for coffee, and somehow the conversation turns to pick-up lines… which leads to sex.

Warnings: Explicit language, A poor attempt at crack, Bad pick-up lines, Rejection, Psychology talk, Smut, Oral (male receiving), Unprotected sex.

Prompt: Pick Up Lines

Switched by @waywardrose13

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam Winchester

Summary: Fucking Witches (that’s all you get)

Warnings: Witches/hex, language, some angst, a fight, Dean’s a dick, period talk, Sam’s a bit rude, fluff, crack!fic

Prompt: Switching Bodies

The Grass Is Always Greener by @hannahindie

Characters: Sam x Reader, Dean x Reader, Sam x Reader, Dean

Summary: N/A

Warnings: Alcohol, weed, language, cracky goodness, so much smut. Just…just filth. Like a pinch of plot towards the end, but it’s like…guys, it’s just…you shouldn’t read it if you’re under 18. Hell, you maybe shouldn’t read it if you’re over 18. I mean, for me, anyway. It could be worse. But it’s all over the place, and there’s just a lot of it. So….here you go.

Prompt: Drinking/Drunk

Research by @sculptorofbeginnings

Characters: Team Free Will 2.0, Unknown Female Character

Summary: Sam is enjoying the day doing some quiet research until Jack finds a very interesting book…

Warnings: Smut (only a little though), Daddy!Kink, Embarrassed Sammy, Clueless Jack, General Crack!Hilarity, if I did my job right.

Prompt: Jack Asks Questions

Every Dean Has His Day by @bamby0304​

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam

Summary: After Dean drinks the potion that makes him act like a dog again, you’re stuck babysitting when it goes wrong. Days stuck with the older Winchester lead to truths being told. But is it just the dog in him talking?

Warnings: My poor attempt at crack (honestly, I tried). Scumbag in a roadhouse. Explicit language. Period talk. Fluff. A bit of angst. Smut (yep… smut). Dirty talk. Fingering. Unprotected sex.

Prompt: Potions

The French Maid by @myinconnelly1

Characters: Dean x Reader, Jack, Sam, Castiel

Summary: N/A

Warnings: Smut, 18+ , NSFW, roleplay, crack.

Prompt: Jack Asks Questions

Fallen For Me by @waywardmoeyy​

Characters: Jack Kline x Reader, TFW

Summary: N/A

Warnings: Self-doubt, Fluff, Crack.

Prompt: Clumsy

Baking With The Devil’s Son by @rubynationwins

Characters: Jack, Reader, Dean, and Sam

Summary: N/A

Warnings: Crack

Prompt: Jack Asks Questions

Animals by @winchesterwolf30

Characters: Dean x Reader

Summary: Dean wakes up one morning to find a very hairy surprise (takes place before the animal mind-spell.)

Warnings: None, except that I am TERRIBLE at writing crack, so, my apologies.

Prompt: Spells

Making a Princess by @samslittlespoon​

Characters: Sam x Reader

Summary: You and Sam are called to an emergency, only to find out it’s not the type of emergency you were expecting...

Warnings: Crack, Language

Prompt: Kids/Old People

See No Evil by @bamby0304​

Characters: Dean x Reader x Sam

Summary: A case goes awry and you end up being hit with a spell that turns you invisible. While the brothers freak you try to cheer them up. A few pranks turn to heated moments that you try to shy away from, determined to keep the brothers from getting their feelings hurt. In the end though, they tell you they see more than you might think.

Warnings: An attempt at crack. Bit of angst. Some embarrassment. Nudity. Fluff. Smut. Fingering. Dirty talk. Unprotected sex. Oral (male receiving). Admittedly… this is gonna be more smutty than funny… I couldn’t help myself.

Prompt: Spells

Jack’s Case by @rideandwritethethings

Characters: TFW 2.0 x Reader (Platonic)

Summary: Jack finds a case for the Winchesters and is unable to understand why they keep laughing at the information he’s giving them.

Warnings: Warnings: crack, a whole bunch of innuendos so like PG13? they’re bad jokes though I am Not Good At Crack

Prompt: Innuendos

What Were You Thinking? by @a-winchester-fairytale

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam

Summary: While on a case, a witch plays a little trick on Dean, giving him the gift of too much information.

Warnings: crack

Prompt: Curses/Spells/Potions

Not Funny by @thatfanficstuff

Characters: Sam x Reader, Dean

Summary: N/A

Warnings: Crack, Clowns, dude, clowns. Canon typical stuff

Prompt: Disguises, Undercover/Costumes

Once again, thank you to everyone that signed up and followed through. There were a few writer’s, due to personal issues and timing, that reached out and couldn’t make the deadline or extension deadline. Thank you for reaching out and letting me know. There were others who didn’t even bother giving me a simple ASK or message, which I am disappointed in. In the future, please let me know. A small heads up is very much appreciated and considerate to the host. 

Hope you enjoyed the challenge and masterlist!! 

[nsfw-bnha-and-dangan]

Could I request the ndrv3 guys with a bi female S/O? But they don't find out she's bi until her extremely biphobic ex sees them on a date together and goes to "warn" the guys about her? (with said ex being why she was too nervous to come out to them?)

I love this idea! I’m actually a bi girl myself so I definitely get where this is coming from!

Shuichi Saihara:

You guys were just relaxing at the library, switching novels and manga as you finished them and nuzzling into Saihara’s shoulder

When you glanced up you noticed your ex walking over, your body visibly stiffening at the sight

He wasn’t exactly… accepting of who you were, saying some horrible things after finding out that you were bi

You had kept that part of yourself a secret from Saihara, not wanting the same thing to happen with him

But it looked like your secret was about to come out as your ex came up to Saihara and tapped him on the head.

“Hey, dude, I see your hanging with (Y/N) here. Figured id let you know that she’s a bit of whore, shes probably fucking a few girls behind your back.”

“Excuse me?” Saihara asked, confusion and anger bristling up inside him.

You were already close to tears, digging your nails into your palms and refusing to look at either of them

“Yeah, she likes chicks too. What, she didn’t tell you? Figures, makes it easier to eat pussy behind your back. Sorry to burst your bubble, man, but I’m doin’ you a favor.”

Your ex walked off and you burst into tears, trying to be quiet since you were in a library. “I-I’m not… I’m not cheating on you, I s-swear!”

Saihara pulled you close and wiped your tears, trying to keep other peoples attention from you. “I know, I know you wouldn’t. But… was the other part true?”

You nodded, taking a shaky breath. “Y-yeah… I’m bi, Shuichi, a-and I wanted to tell you but… my ex broke up with me on the spot when I told him and I r-really don’t want to lose you!”

You started crying again, hiccuping when you felt a kiss pressed to your hair. “I would never break up with you, especially not over your sexual preferences. You like who you like, there’s nothing wrong with that. I trust you and I know you would never cheat on me.”

You smiled softly as Saihara pulled you up, neatly putting your books back on a cart to be reshelved and taking you home for some cuddles and crime shows, the best date you could think of with no chance of being yelled at by your ex

Kaito Momota:

Kaito was eagerly leading you around the space museum, pulling you from exhibit to exhibit with the biggest grin on his face.

Perhaps you weren’t as into space travel as your boyfriend but you were having fun nonetheless

Well, you were anyways

Seeing your ex, who apparently worked there now, immediately had you hiding behind Kaito, shaking and trying to convince him to leave.

“Just a sec babe, I just want to finish reading this. We’ll go to that little cafe you like, I promise!”

It was too late anyway, your ex had already spotted you and made his way over, crossing his arms.

“Shocked to see you hanging around a guy now, after what you told me. Or maybe he’s just for show so you can fuck all the chicks you want and not get called out for it.”

You whimpered as Kaito turned around, touching your arm gently in hopes of calming you. “What the fuck, asshole! I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about but you need to leave, I’m not going to let you talk to my girlfriend like that!”

“Hah, seriously? You haven’t told him that you like both cock and pussy? That’s honestly hilarious, poor guy has no idea how much a little slut you are! Telling you now, buddy, might want to drop her before you catch her scissoring with some slut.”

That was it for Kaito, no one talks about his girl like that! So he punched your ex square in the face and walked off, pulling you behind him until you got outside

You were crying when you sat down on the bench, fighting to breath as Kaito rubbed your back gently.

“Hey, sweetie, it’s okay. Shh, I got you, I won’t let him do anything to hurt you, I promise!”

“Y-you must think I’m h-horrible after what he said…”

Kaito shook his head quickly, drying your tears with his jacket sleeve and making sure your ex hadn’t followed you out

“No, honestly I didn’t really get what he was saying, something about you liking girls? If… if your gay i-”

“I’m not gay, just b-bi… I swear, I love you, i-its not a lie!” You waved your hands quickly, earning a little smile from Kaito

“Hey, its cool, it doesn’t bother me. I wish you would have told me, but if that asshole was the reason you didn’t then I get it. I love you too, babe, and ill make sure he doesn’t touch you again!”

You sniffled and let Kaito pull you into a tight hug, fingers tickling your sides until he got a giggle out of you.

“That’s better! Come on, let’s go to the gift shop! Loser buys the astronaut ice cream!”

You squealed and raced Kaito to the gift shop, his relaxed attitude making you feel much better.

Kiibo:

You had taken Kiibo to the park, laying in the grass to watch the clouds. You kept pointing out little shapes that he struggled to see, overanalyzing and blushing when you kissed him

When a shadow loomed over you, you both sat up, squinting to see who was there.

“Long time no see, (Y/N)”

The second you heard that voice you went pale, it was most definitely your ex-boyfriend, likely here to start something

“W-what are you doing here?”

“Well, I saw you with your little robo-boyfriend here and figured id give him the heads up about your little habit.”

Kiibo looked very confused, looking between you and your ex nervously

“Don’t d-do this…”

“What, and let him get screwed over the same way I did? Listen, dude, I don’t really get your deal but your girlfriend here likes pussy. Actually, that’s probably why she likes you, pretty sure robots don’t have fuckin’ dicks.”

Your ex laughed and walked off, leaving you with silent tears streaming down your face and a very confused boyfriend trying to figure the situation out

“Who was that? And what was he saying about you?”

Before Kiibo could ask any more questions, you kissed him messily, pulling back with a sob

“I-I… he was my ex, we had a really bad break up. A-and he was kind of right. I’m bi, Kiibo.”

“Bi?”

Sometimes you forget that Kiibo doesn’t always get human things so you quickly explain that it meant you liked both girls and guys.

“B-but I love you the most, I would never stray!” You cried, sincerely hoping Kiibo would believe you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, waiting to be hit or yelled at like your ex had done when you told him, but you only felt the cold chill of metal arms wrapping around you

“I’m sorry you felt as though you had to hide that from me. I may not understand sexualities very well but I trust you, I know that you love me. A-as for my… anatomy…”

You shook your head and just nuzzled into Kiibo’s chest, hearing the whir of his fans. “Don’t worry about that, I don’t care. I just want you, Kiibo.”

You refused to let go and Kiibo didn’t mind at all, laying you down and using the blanket to make sure his metal body didn’t hurt you or make you too cold.

You wound up falling asleep on Kiibo for a few hours as he stroked your hair, feeling an overwhelming amount of emotion for you as you slept

Gonta Gokuhara:

Gonta had taken you to a bug exhibit at the science museum! He was rushing all over the place, pointing out all the bugs to you and telling you their scientific names without pause.

While bugs weren’t exactly your favorite thing in the world, you loved watching Gonta when he got so excited, bouncing around like a small child.

You had been checking out some of the butterflies when you heard Gonta’s curious voice above the others in the exhibit, catching your attention.

“Gonta doesn't… understand.”

“Wow, she really knows how to pick’em, jeez. But yeah, I’m warning you, you’re going to catch her in bed with some bitch, she’s a total slut. I was smart enough to cut her the hell off before it happened and I recommend you do the same.”

Your ex walked off and Gonta looked even more confused, glancing from your ex to you repeatedly. You quickly made your way over, pulling Gonta to an empty hall and making sure your ex wasn’t around

“G-Gonta doesn’t really know what just happened… that man said really mean things about (Y/N)…”

You nodded, sighing softly. “T-that was my ex-boyfriend, Gonta. And… h-he was talking about him I’m bi.”

“Bye? (Y/N) is leaving?”

You almost giggled, taking Gonta’s hand and holding it tightly. “No, um… Bisexual, it means I like girls and guys the way most girls just like guys.”

Gonta nodded, smiling softly. “Oh! Gonta understands that! (Y/N) likes having boyfriends or girlfriends! But why was (Y/N)’s ex saying such mean things about it?”

“He’s the reason I never told you, when I told him, he, u-um…” You teared up and Gonta scrambled to hug you, nuzzling your hair.

“He said mean things to (Y/N), right? Gonta is very glad he is your ex now, (Y/N) deserves a true gentleman! A gentleman would never call his girlfriend those mean things!”

You smiled into Gonta’s chest, pulling back to kiss him sweetly. “That’s why I’m with you now, because your the best gentleman and I love you, I promise I would never cheat on you.”

“Gonta knows! If (Y/N) was a boy she would be a great gentleman!” You blushed a little, that was some of the highest praise from Gonta and it had you smiling, feeling much better than before

Kokichi Ouma:

It was one of the rare days when Ouma was content with a simple date at a cafe, the two of you sharing a miniature cake.

“Mmm, (Y/N)-chan? Can you get me one of those sweet coffee thingys?” You winced, the last thing Ouma needed was caffeine, but you gave him a kiss and went up to the counter to order the horribly sweet drink

When you glanced back over someone had taken your seat, another glance had all the color leaching from your face. It was your ex and based on the look on Ouma’s face, he didn’t have anything nice to say.

The second the coffee was put into your hand you walked back over, just in time to hear the end of the conversation.

“Hey, no need to get all pissy. I’m just trying to warn you before you wind up walking in on her and some other chick with their legs in the air. Maybe you’ll get lucky and they’ll invite you to join, eh?”

Your ex laughed and smirked at you, moving to get up before Ouma’s hand shot out and grabbed his shirt, an eery smile on his face

“So that’s what you think of her, hmm? Listen, buddy. I’m the leader of a very large, very evil organization. And with one phone call, I can have a few of my followers come to your house in the middle of the night. They will tie you down, strip you naked, and turn you into the biggest laughing stock the world has ever seen. And that if I’m in a good mood. Now fuck off before I have to pull out my phone, got it?”

Your ex sighed and walked out, waving a hand in annoyance. Ouma pulled you to sit, taking his coffee and looking you over. “That wasn’t a lie, by the way. I could totally get DICE to do that.”

“T-thanks…” You managed a shaky smile and took a bite of the cake, blinking back tears.

“(Y/N)-chan! Stop looking so sad, ill cry too!”

“Sorry, Kokichi, I just… you weren’t bothered by what he said?”

Ouma shrugged and sipped his coffee, grinning as the sugar filled his system. “What, that you like girls too? I’m bi too, doesn’t bother me.”

You blinked, Ouma was bi? Well, that certainly made things interesting. You smiled softly and took a sip of your own drink.

“Awe come on! You still look all upset! Let’s go to headquarters and play that game you bought!”

Ouma grabbed his coffee and his cake, pulling you outside with his free hand as you stumbled and tried not to fall.

But a couple rounds of Twister with a very hyper (and handsy) Ouma was more than enough to lift your spirits, ending up in a tickling match that had you breathless and giggling.

Rantarou Amami:

The two of you were shopping at the mall, Amami helping you find a dress for a relative’s wedding, when it happened.

Apparently, your ex had finally found a job because he was working at the first store you peeked into, coming up to Amami as you ducked into a changing room

“Hey, dude. I see you’re with (Y/N) there and I figured id give you a heads up about her. She likes chicks, so I figured you’d want to know before you see for yourself.”

“What are you talking about?”

Your ex laughed at Amami’s growing confusion, not realizing the unbridled anger brewing inside him. “Don’t bother asking for a threesome either, little slut likes to keep the bitches for herself.”

“Alright, you need to stop. My girlfriend is wonderful and I know she would never cheat on me, regardless of her sexuality. I don’t know why the two of you broke up but it looks like it was for good reason if this is how you spoke to her. (Y/N), get dressed, we aren’t going to buy anything here.”

You quickly got dressed and followed Amami out, letting him lead you into another store and hiding in a changing room.

“Alright, so I have a feeling there’s something you need to tell me?”

You nod and sit on the bench, Amami holding your hand reassuringly.

“S-so, you probably figured out that I’m bi… I hope it isn’t a problem for you, I swear i-”

Amami leaned down and kissed you sweetly, cutting you off. “Whoa, it’s okay. Two of my sisters are bi, its no big deal. Your not the kind of person who would sleep around, I trust you. Your ex, or whoever he was, isn’t worthy to be around you. You can tell me anything, okay? No matter what, we’ll have a conversation about it and get it figured out, I promise.”

You smiled and stood up to hug him, pressing your face into his chest and relishing in the warmth.

“We still need to find your dress, princess, as much as I would like to stay in here all day.”

You giggled and popped out of the changing room, letting Amami pick out some dresses for you try on, your worries melting away.

Korekiyo Shinguuji:

Korekiyo had convinced you to go around the history museum, spouting off facts as you went from exhibit to exhibit.

It may not have been your favorite date in the world but Korekiyo was clearly in his natural habitat so you were content, it was quite cute to see him bustling around to look at artifacts

It was going great up until a much too familiar face made its appearance, your ex tapping Korekiyo on the shoulder so you would both turn around.

“Well shit, I thought you were a chick. Oh well, this works. Dude, I saw you with (Y/N) and I figured id warn you about her. Shes, like, half lesbian or some shit. Either way, figured you would want to know so you can cut your losses. See ya!”

Before either of you could speak he was gone, leaving you shaking with tears in your eyes, clinging to Korekiyo’s arm. “O-oh god… fuck, I wasn’t going to tell you, I’m s-so sorry Kiyo!”

You were crying hard now and Korekiyo was quick to lead you somewhere else with fewer people, gently rubbing your back.

“Shh, darling, it’s okay. It’s quite common for humans and even animals to have sexual preferences outside of the opposite sex, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

He spoke gently, letting you cry yourself out until you were able to relax a little, getting you to sit down.

“M-my ex… when I told him he f-freaked, he accused me of c-cheating and called me n-names. I was too scared to tell you, I d-didn’t want it to happen again.”

“I would never call you such horrible things, especially when you’ve done nothing wrong. Come on, smile, crying doesn’t suite such a beautiful example of humanity.”

You smiled softly at the compliment, always feeling so special when Korekiyo called you that. Your smile triggered his and you could see it in his eyes as the both of you returned to the exhibit, making sure not to give your ex even a glance as you enjoyed your evening.

Ryoma Hoshi:

You had convinced him to go to a tennis match, the first one in years. The two of you were sitting together, sipping sodas as you watched the players.

“Ryoma, can you explain how this works to me? They keep calling things out but I don’t get it…”

“Love means zero, and-”

He was interrupted by a tap on his shoulder, turning around to see your ex. He had seen a picture before and knew it had ended badly, so why was he talking to you guys?

“Dude, aren’t you that tennis pro who went to jail?”

“Why do you care?”

“Eh, doesn’t matter. I just figured id give you a heads up about your little girlfriend. I don’t know if she told you but there’s a pretty good chance shes fucking a chick behind your back. I never got lucky enough to catch her in the act but oh well, maybe she’ll let you in.”

With that, your ex returned back to his popcorn, muttering under his breath about the match. You had tears in your eyes and Hoshi could see how much you were hurting, looking into your lap as your nails bit into your thighs

Before he has the chance to do anything, a rogue tennis ball flies from the court and hits your ex square in the jaw, pulling a choked laugh from you

Your ex storms off and leaves you with Hoshi, who is looking at you quizzically.

“I-I guess I should explain, huh?”

“You don’t have to, I pretty much get it. Your, what, bi? Or pansexual?”

You nod at the first option, laying your head on Hoshi’s shoulder and smiling softly. “Yeah, bi. I’m sorry for not telling you but after him… i-i couldn’t.”

A quiet kiss on your forehead calms your worries as Hoshi turns back to the game, continuing his explanation of points to you.

[jeontaeh]

〚TWENTY EIGHT〛

The Seoul Football Championship was a so-called 'fun and competitive competition for young football enthusiasts to boost their sportsmanship'. It was a war between every high school football team in the country to see who was better, basically.

So, the entire football team and cheerleaders were on a train on the way to Seoul. Jungkook and Jimin were listening to music, while laughing at Yugyeom and Bambam who were sitting right opposite them, trying to flip a water bottle.

Jungkook could see Taehyung sitting on the other side of the train with Eka, her head on his shoulder, Yoongi, Hoseok, Namjoon, and some of the cheerleaders. Jungkook saw as Eka leaned up to whisper into his ear, and Taehyung got startled and scooted away while saying "Ew don't lick my ear."

"Damn, he really doesn't like her. How didn't I notice this before?" Jimin said to Jungkook, who hummed.

"Probably 'cause they're always making out," Jungkook said, and Jimin nodded.

"You still going ahead with your Taylr Swift plan?" Jimin asked, and Jungkook smiled.

"Karma's a bitch, Jimin. He should get a taste of his own bullshit for once. Also- why the fuck are we listening to old Taylor Swift songs?" Jungkook snapped, and Jimin scoffed.

"Because she shaped the pop industry and frankly is hated for absolutely no reason," Jimin said, and Jungkook sighed.

"Amen brother," Jungkook said, and then his eyes brightened when he saw Taehyung get up from hi seat to go to the mid area between two trains, where there was a washroom, a vending machine, a coffee machine, etc.

"Okay. I'm gonna go start this plan," Jungkook said, and then slid out of his seat to walk down the aisle towards where Taehyung was. Nonchalantly, of course.

Jungkook walked into the area, closing the door behind him and humming some tune to himself. He saw Taehyung getting a packet of chips from the vending machine and walked up to it.

"Ooh- they have strawberry licorice," Jungkook said airily, and Taehyung looked at him in alert.

"Yeah." Taehyung mumbled, and saw Taehyung put in the number for what he wanted. "Could you just get me licorice with your money? I'll pay you back." Jungkook said, showing the coins he had in his hand.

"Sure." Taehyung said. Jungkook leaned his arm ahead and clicked on the number for the licorice. He waited and then saw the chips fall down, and the licorice get stuck in the middle. Jungkook pouted.

"Damn it... How do I get it out?" Jungkook whined softly, and then turned around. "I'll ask Jackson to shake the machine- he's got really strong arms~"

"I'll do it." Taehyung said rather quickly, and Jungkook turned around and saw Taehyung grab the machine from either side and give it a good shake. The licorice fell down.

"Aw, V. Thank you!" Jungkook smiled, and then rushed to the machine. Before Taehyung could say anything, Jungkook bent over to pick the stuff up from inside the machine.

Jungkook took his sweet time taking out the packet of chips and licorice, and then stood up and turned around- and to his joy, saw Taehyung's eyes kind of wide, cheeks kind of red, stood quite close to him.

"Here," Jungkook said, handing Taehyung the chips and coins. Taehyung grabbed them out of his palm, but then the train shook unexpectedly and both stumbled forward, Jungkook getting pressed against the machine with Taehyung in front of him.

Taehyung's hand grabbed his. "Oh," Jungkook squeaked softly, eyes big. Taehyung's mouth went dry, blinking quickly.

"Um-" Taehyung said, and Jungkook looked up at him. "S-sorry." Taehyung stammered, taking a step back.

"That's okay. I'm gonna head back," Jungkook whispered, and Taehyung nodded hurriedly. Jungkook turned around with a small smile on his face and headed back into the carriage and towards his seat.

He grinned. This was already going great.

///

The next day, practice started early morning, as the first game began at evening. Taehyung was shouting out instructions, clearly riled up and a little stressed- and everyone just listened to him this time.

"Of course the ball is never going to pass properly, Youngjae. Not with that footing!" Taehyung snapped, and Youngjae gulped and nodded- rushing away to hide behind his friends.

Taehyung looked around. "Jimin keep running. Jackson, you've got to stop hitting the fucking poles. Yugyeom, seriously, fix your posture," Taehyung growled, continuing to look around. Everyone was kind of terrified. "Namjoon, pass to who's open! Why the fuck are you passing to Jin when he's blocked?! Hoseok I don't want to see a single ball hit the net when you're goalkeeping. And Jungkook-" Taehyung began and then paused.

Jungkook stopped running, looking at him mid jog. "Yes sir?"

Taehyung froze a little. He didn't notice the rest of the boys giving him a weird look. "N-nothing. You're good."

"Okay," Jungkook smiled, and then kept running. Taehyung looked a little frazzled for a few seconds, and then snapped out of it and continued shouting at the boys.

It's not like he was just all bark and no bite. Taehyung went on that pitch to show the boys how it was done and stole the ball from every guy, kicked every ball into the net, and went past each member and defender.

The guy was good, there was no denying that.

"Jeez dude, I don't know why you're worried. With you on our team, we're bound to win." Namjoon said, sitting on the grass.

"Yeah man. Take it easy. It's good to be prepared, but you're overdoing it. The game is in three hours, just rest till then." Jin said.

Taehyung was breathing heavily, sweaty, in the middle of his 10th lap or something. "No if- if I stop I won't be able to do well tonight- we'll- we'll lose, and-"

Taehyung tried running again, but then tripped over his lace and fell to the ground. "Fuck-" Taehyung gritted, getting a cut on his cheek.

"What did I just say." Jin snapped, and Taehyung sat up, aggravated with himself. He was about to snap at them, but then suddenly saw two large brown eyes and rosy red cheeks.

"V," Jungkook said softly, kneeling down to face him. "You're only hurting yourself. You don't want to tire yourself, do you?" Jungkook said, tilting his head.

Taehyung looked at him, and Jungkook could see that pent up aggression releasing slowly, saw how his stature got a bit softer. "N-no.."

"Exactly. You haven't eaten anything since the morning." Jungkook said, shaking his head. He looked cute as fuck, he knew he did. "That's not very smart, mr. Captain."

Taehyung smiled a little, and Jungkook got up. "Come, I'll put a bandaid on you." Jungkook said, and Taehyung grabbed his hand. Jungkook pulled him up, and then walked him down the field while holding his hand.

Jimin saw this happening from near where the Namjoon and Jin were, and rolled his eyes.

Jungkook reached the benches and then sat Taehyung down. Taehyung was a little red, letting go of Jungkook's hand. Jungkook grabbed the first aid kit and took out a small cotton ball, cream, and a band-aid.

"You don't have to do all that, Kook. S'just a small cut." Taehyung said, and Jungkook looked at him.

I know. But I need to overdo this to seduce you. "I know- but it could get bacteria in it- and- and then it'll get worse! It'll damage your handsome face." Jungkook said, and Taehyung blushed a little, looking away quickly.

Jungkook bent down a little to face him directly. "Let me just-" Jungkook said, about to put the cotton on Taehyung's face, but then groaned. "This is uncomfortable. Wait-" Jungkook said, and then sat down on Taehyung's lap.

Jungkook bit his lip. "Better. Now, look at me." Jungkook whispered, putting one hand under his chin and moving it to look at Jungkook. Taehyung was now blushing profusely. "Oh~ you're all red because of the sun!"

"Y-yeah." Taehyung stammered quickly. Jungkook took the cotton ball and pressed it against his cut. Taehyung hissed a little, and Jungkook's eyes grew bigger.

"Oh no, does it hurt? I'm sorry..." Jungkook squeaked and then felt Taehyung's hand go on his lower back. "It's fine." Taehyung husked.

Jungkook pressed the cotton ball against his cheek, and Taehyung looked up at him. Jungkook continued doing it, and then saw Taehyung open his mouth to say something, but then close it. Jungkook ignored that and put the cotton ball down, seeing the layer of cream over the small cut.

"Done. Now I'll put the band-aid," Jungkook said excitedly, and then reached over to the first aid box to do so, knowing his ass was directly on Taehyung's crotch.

Pop up, pop up, pop UP- Jungkook thought in his head, but nothing happened. Damn, Taehyung was good at concealing it.

Jungkook saw the band-aids, and then gasped (in his head, of course). He got a brilliant idea. Because if what he was about to do worked, then that would just PROVE it. It would prove EVERYTHING.

"V," Jungkook giggled, picking up a band-aid. "You should wear this Hello Kitty band-aid."

"Absolutely not." Taehyung said, and Jungkook looked at him, still giggly.

"Why not? It'll look cute~"

"It's bright pink and has Hello Kitty all over it- it's not touching my face. Not when we're in a competition filled with athletic guys," Taehyung grumbled.

"But it'll look so cute on you," Jungkook whined, and then pouted. "Pleaseee?" Jungkook said softly, poking Taehyung's chest. Taehyung's breath hitched.

"Kook-" Taehyung began, and Jungkook looked down. "C'mon Taehyungie, just do something fun for once-" Jungkook said, and his eyes widened and he froze.

"Oh- um. S-sorry. Didn't m-mean to- I-I just- I forgot. I-" Jungkook began, and Taehyung put his hand on his.

"Hey, it's fine." Taehyung said softly. "Don't worry." Taehyung said, and Jungkook nodded quickly. Taehyung sighed. "You can put the bandaid on me."

Jungkook giggled. "Great." Jungkook said, and then put the bright pink band-aid on Taehyung's cheekbone. Taehyung smiled a little at how giggly Jungkook was, and opened his mouth to say something- but Jungkook got up from his lap. "Ok. Bye." Jungkook said, and then turned around and walked away.

Taehyung froze, and gulped. "S-see you later." Taehyung let out, and then cursed himself internally for stammering. Why the fuck was he stuttering so much?

Jungkook walked up to Jimin and then grinned. "Dude, I've totally got him wrapped around my finger! He's letting me call him by his real name and let me put a fucking Hello Kitty band-aid on him!"

"Kook... don't mess with him now. Not during the matches. He needs to focused." Jimin said sternly.

"Of course I'm not going to distract him during the matches, Jimin. We're here for four days. Three days of matches, but then, we're free. I attack then." Jungkook grinned, and then walked away.

///

The three days passed rather quickly. The matches were strenuous, competitive, and involved a lot of cursing and anger. But also, it was kind of fun.

Jungkook had fun in three ways. 1, he was with his friends. 2, football, kind of. 3, fucking with Taehyung.

Like Jimin said, Jungkook didn't want to go too heavy- that was for the last day. So it was the small victories that counted.

Jungkook noticed it slowly. Like when he walked into the dining room at night and sat down with the rest of the boys, Taehyung rather loudly was telling Yoongi "Yeah I work out a lot. Every day- all the time, dude. Being healthy is like- super important and stuff." while looking at Jungkook every other second.

Or how Taehyung kept trying to get his attention through small things. He'd mention stuff like art really loudly in front of him. Or raise his arms in a weird (obvious) way to flex them. Or get soda and stuff for Jungkook. Or compliment him subtly.

It was so empowering. Jungkook felt like their roles had been switched. When they were fuckbuddies, Jungkook did almost everything to get Taehyung to spend time with him, or to get his attention. It felt nice to be the one getting chased.

So, anyways. They won the championship.

They went against 7 schools and then finally won the whole thing. They won 5 - 3, which was a pretty huge deal, considering the other group were the best in the city.

Taehyung made 4 out of 5 of the goals. It was fucking incredible, he got mentioned by the hosts of the competition and got a special medal. It was really great, and what was even greater was to see everyone congratulate him- but when Jungkook did, Taehyung smiled really wide. A really cute boxy smile.

So, the last day arrived. The whole day was for the students to relax, get to know each other, and other stuff. At night, courtesy of Jackson and some dude he knows in the other school, there were parties happening in the hotel rooms with a lot of alcohol, a lot of weed, and trashy music.

Jungkook didn't want to wait till night. That'd be boring.

See, he already knew he had Taehyung under his ~spell, if you will. So why wait?

That afternoon, around 3 pm, everyone was in this big lounge area. They were playing movies and there was fruit juice and ice cream and stuff, so everyone was chilling. Taehyung was there with Eka.

"I just feel like you've been ignoring me for the past few days,"

"I've been in a competition, Eka. It's fucking time consuming, so I'm sorry I haven't been giving you attention," Taehyung grumbled, and Eka rolled her eyes.

"Oh my god- just stop being such an asshole for 3 seconds! You're lucky to have someone like me, V." Eka snapped, and Taehyung snickered.

"Yeah right." Taehyung mumbled, and then saw Eka walk away towards her friends. Taehyung sighed and leaned against the wall, taking his phone out. When he did, the first thing that popped up was that picture of Jungkook on his instagram from a few weeks ago.

Taehyung's fingers fumbled on his phone to put the picture away. He let out a sigh of relief, glad no one saw him. No, Taehyung hadn't been weirdly staring at that picture for no reason. But did he jack off to it every other night? Yeah, and so what??

It was really fucking weird and Taehyung hated it. Why couldn't he get Jungkook out of his head?? Why was the boy everywhere? Why did the mere sight of him set his heart racing and cheeks getting all flushed?? It was really weird and made him feel weak and he hated it. Despised it.

Taehyung put his phone in his pocket and then looked up, trying to find his friends and rid himself of these thoughts- but when he looked up, he saw the doors of the lounge open and saw Jungkook walk inside.

Jungkook, with his hair a little curled, wearing tiny denim shorts, and the sweater from the instagram picture.

Fuck, Taehyung thought, his eyes going wide. Fuck fuck fuck fuck-

"V-" Eka's voice came. "Listen, do you wanna get out of here? It's kind of boring-"

Taehyung saw Jungkook's slim yet thick thighs, never realized how fucking pretty the boy looked in an oversized sweater and shorts. Taehyung head envisioned Jungkook wearing nothing but that sweater, or rather, nothing at all-

"V? You alright?" Eka continued, and Taehyung's eyes had glazed.

He looked exactly like he did on the instagram post. He was pretty, oh so fucking pretty, and his cheeks were kind of rosy, eyes big, lips pink. He looked around mindlessly, looking like the prettiest, most ravishing doll, and fuck, Taehyung wanted to see his thighs wrapped around his waist-

"Oh my god, are you fucking deaf!?" Eka shouted, pushing V slightly. V didn't even look at her.

"I- I need to- I need to go," Taehyung said quickly, voice sounding dry, weak, kind of shaky. He saw Jungkook look at him, and shit, Jungkook must've seen him staring. And god fucking damnit, Taehyung could feel himself getting harder in his pants by the second. But before he could leave, Jungkook rushed up to him.

"V!" Jungkook called out, and Taehyung had to stop, had to stop and look at him and make conversation with him. Fuck.

"Hey." Taehyung said nonchalantly.

"Hey, so-" Jungkook began, his hand going on Taehyung's forearm. "Some of the boys are going swimming in the indoor heated pool. I totally wanted to- but then I realised I didn't have my swimming trunks. I mean, I could swim naked- but that'd be super weird," Jungkook laughed.

Taehyung's entire face reddened at the thought of Jungkook naked. Jungkook, naked, swimming. Jungkook, naked, swimming, and then getting fucked by Taehyung while being completely wet-

"Y-yeah- that'd be r-really weird." Taehyung let out.

"This is making you really hard, isn't it?" Jungkook said sultrily.

"What?" Taehyung snapped, and Jungkook frowned.

"I said winning the championship was really hard, wasn't it?" Jungkook said, and that's when Taehyung realised how fucking horny he was. He was hearing things. Fuck.

"Yeah- um- I guess. But it's thanks to the team, really." Taehyung said quickly.

"Yeah, I get it. Y'know, V- you should spank me." Jungkook giggled, and Taehyung paled.

"W-what?"

"I said you should thank me! Is it hard to hear in here?" Jungkook asked, tilting his head. Taehyung gulped. He shook his head.

"N-no- I'm just- I'm just- tired. Tired. I'm really tired. It's really hot in here. Like, really really hot. Do you feel really hot? I'm sweating like crazy," Taehyung laughed, and then saw Jungkook giving him a weird look. He was acting crazy.

"Yeah. Um- listen. This is kind of boring. I'm really tired, so..." Jungkook said, and then led his fingers from Taehyung's shoulder down his arm. "I'm gonna head to my hotel room. Y'know, room 418. See you," Jungkook said softly, and then gave Taehyung a lingering look, turned around, and walked away.

Taehyung gulped. His mind went blank. Oh my god, he thought. He wants me to fuck him.

Taehyung saw Jungkook walk out of the lounge, and almost grinned if it wasn't for people being around him who'd think he was a lunatic. Oh my god Oh my GOD he was going to fuck Jungkook.

Taehyung ran out of the lounge and saw the hallways empty. Good. Taehyung ran towards the lift and rushed inside. He pressed on the button for the fourth floor, but before the lift could close, a hand was placed between the doors, and someone walked in.

Jimin.

"Hey man." Jimin said. Taehyung look at him blankly. "You're going to the 4th floor? Cool, me too. I was gonna go to my room to take a nap, need the energy for tonight, y'know?" Jimin laughed.

Before the lift could start, Taehyung put his hand on the lift doors and kept it open. "Jimin. Get OUT."

Jimin paused. "....Why..."

"Dude, because-" Taehyung started, and then shook his head. "It's. There's a fire."

"What? Where?"

Taehyung froze. All he could think of was his penis that was begging to be inside Jeon Jungkook. "It's- it's here."

"Where is it? Oh god- I should call Jungkook and tell him to come here-"

"No, Jimin. The fire- the fire is in. It's in- um- Rose's room. Her- her room is on fire. She wants you to go to her room because it's on fire."

"V, is everything okay?"

"Rose is on FIRE and you're just standing around here?? What's wrong with you?? Run, Jimin, run!" Taehyung snapped, and Jimin gulped.

"Jeez, o-okay! Oh my god-" Jimin stammered, and then ran out of the lift and away.

Taehyung sighed in relief and closed the lift doors quickly.

While running away, Jimin took his phone out. He texted Jungkook yup, he's on his way to ur room. pls dont make me do that again, he was like. super freaked out.

Jimin sighed after that. He knew there was no fire; but he's still going to go to Rose's room. Y'know, just because.

Taehyung reached the 4th floor and then ran out. He ran down the hallway. Room 401...405...409... where the fuck was 418?? Taehyung ran past rooms, trying to look for it. 418 418 418 418- He finally stopped. Room 418 was in front of him- and the door was slightly open.

Taehyung gulped. He reached for the door and pushed it open.

No one was inside.

Taehyung walked into the room and closed the door behind him. "Jungkook? You- um- you in here?"

There was no sound. Taehyung gulped. Damn, maybe he wasn't in here. Maybe he just pretended to want him to come here, but didn't actually. Fuck, Taehyung felt really stupid now. Goddamnit.

Taehyung turned around to open the door of the room, but then heard a voice.

"Oh. Hey Taehyung. Didn't think you'd come so fast," Jungkook's airy voice filled the room.

Taehyung turned around, and his eyes widened. Jungkook was completely naked.

"O-oh-" Taehyung squeaked out, eyes bulging out. "Um- I-I- I-" Taehyung stammered, and then licked his lips, knowing damn well his hard cock was straining through his jeans.

Taehyung's eyes raked down his body, and he saw as Jungkook walked over to Taehyung slowly. Taehyung gulped. "I-I just- I-I came here b-because I-"

"Take your shirt off." Jungkook said, and Taehyung paused for a second. "I want to wear it." Jungkook hummed, and Taehyung gulped.

"Okay." He said, and then reached back to take his shirt off, a big white t-shirt. Jungkook grabbed it from his hands and put it on, pulling it over his head. It reached till his lower thighs. Taehyung loved that.

"Why'd you come up here?" Jungkook asked in a small voice, blinking his big eyes.

"I-" Taehyung began, and then shrugged weakly, as if giving up. He couldn't make stuff up. Couldn't lie. "I just- I really want-"

"Want what?" Jungkook asked, putting his fingers around Taehyung's belt loops.

"I-I really want to fuck you, Kookie." Taehyung said, and Jungkook looked up at him, seeing how Taehyung was pressed against the door. "Just one last time. You know you want it too, baby," Taehyung whispered, hands on Jungkook's hips.

Jungkook looked down, and then looked up at him. "I'm sorry," Jungkook began, and Taehyung grew confused. "Did I say you could touch me?"

"No," Taehyung stammered, and put his hands by his sides. "I just- I thought-"

"Put your hands behind your back." Jungkook said firmly, and Taehyung did. He put his hands neatly behind his back. "Okay. Now- you followed me up here because you wanted to fuck me?"

"N-no, I-" Taehyung started, and Jungkook looked him in the eyes. "I-I thought you- thought you w-wanted me to- I mean, y-you were so... into me f-for the past three days,"

"Aw," Jungkook said, taking a step back, tilting his head. "You thought I was really interested in you because of my actions and words, but you're now confused because I'm acting like I never was? That must be disappointing, huh?" Jungkook said, giving him a smile.

Taehyung gulped. He didn't get it. "Y-yeah-"

"Well then, Taehyungie." Jungkook said, moving closer to him. "You're really hard, aren't you? Wow," Jungkook said softly, putting his hand on his cock. Jungkook looked at him. "Do you want me to touch it?"

"Y-yeah-" Taehyung let out, bucking his hips slightly against Jungkook's hand.

"What is it that you want me to do, Tae?" Jungkook asked, pressing his thumb against his clothed cock.

"Kookie-" Taehyung let out- "Kookie just- t-touch me-"

"Say please." Jungkook whispered, and Taehyung gulped. "Please- p-please, Kookie. I-I want your- your hand on m-my cock-"

"You're really desperate, huh?" Jungkook giggled, and then unzipped his jeans, pulled down his boxers slightly and took his cock out. "I mean. Why didn't you just go to your girlfriend?"

"Y-" Taehyung began, mouth dry. "Y-you're d-different-"

"Oh, I'm different, am I?" Jungkook gasped, and then squeezed Taehyung's cock. Taehyung groaned in his hand, bucking into his fist. "Am I pretty, Taehyungie?"

"Yeah- fuck y-yeah, you're the prettiest." Taehyung let out, and then felt a moan leave his lips at how Jungkook's movement around his cock became faster.

"Am I better than her, Taehyungie?" Jungkook asked, a glint in his eye as he thumbed the slit of Taehyung's cock. "Am I better? Am I more fun to fuck? Am I tighter?"

"Yes, yes, yes-" Taehyung let out, looking at him. "So much better. So much tighter-"

Jungkook leaned into, and Taehyung almost whimpered at how his cock touched Jungkook's stomach. "Probably not so tight anymore, Taehyung." Jungkook whispered, both hands touching Taehyung's side. Taehyung looked at him.

"W-what?"

"I-I got so sad after you left, Taehyungie... so sad to see you fucking Eka and all those other girls..." Jungkook trailed, kissing Taehyung's jaw. "So I let some boys fuck me, too."

Taehyung froze. "It was only fair, don't you think?" Jungkook grinned.

Taehyung gulped. "W-who-"

"Speaking of which," Jungkook said, and he moved back, leaving Taehyung's cock untouched again. "I was actually supposed to go to Yugyeom's room right now... was gonna let him fuck me," Jungkook said cutely, turning around. "Was gonna let him fuck me raw, too. And he's so good, Taehyung." Jungkook said, peering over at him, seeing him frozen still.

"His dick is so big, too." Jungkook whispered, and Taehyung's eyes were darkened as he slowly walked up to Jungkook. "He throws me over his bed and calls me baby while doing it. Says I'm really good. Says I'm really fun, really tight, really pretty, really-"

Taehyung gripped Jungkook's waist and wrapped his arms around him. He was angered, really fucking angered. Eyes practically red, breathing going heavier and god, he was mad. So mad.

"Couldn't have," Taehyung let out, pulling Jungkook close to him. "Couldn't have fucked you better than I did- no one could've fucked you better than I did, Jungkook, no one-"

"You overestimate yourself, Taehyungie," Jungkook whispered, and then put his hands on Taehyung's chest. "Everyone's fucked me better than you did."

Taehyung gulped. "B-but-" Taehyung let out, eyes laced with confusion. "But I- I was so fucking good to you, Kookie- I-"

"You were alright." Jungkook said, and then pushed him off. "Kind of boring, really."

He could see Taehyung crumbling a little. "No- no no, Kookie- I can be so much better. I-I can be better than all of them. I'll- I'll fuck you so well, Kookie- I'll show you how good I was, I'll-"

"So you want to fuck me?" Jungkook asked, looking at him from near the bed. Taehyung nodded wildly.

"Use your words." Jungkook said softly, and Taehyung gulped. "Yes. Wanna fuck you."

"Say please."

"Please, Kookie- Just once- just- just once, I-" Taehyung stammered, grabbing his waist again.

"Look at you, baby." Jungkook said in awe. "So hard over me, aren't you? So needy for me, baby. You can have any girl in the whole school, nay, the whole country, yet." Jungkook said, and then grinned. "You want to fuck me. Rather oxymoronic, isn't it?"

Jungkook wrapped his fingers around Taehyung's cock again. "Tell me how badly you want to fuck me." He whispered into Taehyung's ear.

"So bad." Taehyung let out, wrapping his arms around him. "S-so fucking bad, Kookie. Just want you- no- no one else. I'd trade everyone in the fucking world for you. You're fucking gorgeous, baby. No one's like you- I-I want to fuck you so bad-"

"Aw," Jungkook said, smiling. "Baby wants me?"

Taehyung nodded. "Baby wants to fuck me, does he?" Taehyung nodded harder, Jungkook began moving his hand up and down him faster and faster.

"Wanna cum, babyboy? Wanna cum all over my hand, do you? All over my ass, do you?" Jungkook asked, and god, he was having so much fucking fun with this.

"Y-yes- please- please Kookie, please- please-" Taehyung stammered, burrowing his head in the crevice of Jungkook's neck.

And right before Taehyung could cum- right before Taehyung could reach his climax- right before he could do anything; Jungkook left his hold on him.

He took a step back. "Actually," Jungkook said, and Taehyung gulped, freezing. "I think I have work to do."

"W-what?" Taehyung let out.

"Bye." Jungkook said, and then turned around.

"What? Baby, y-you can't just-" Taehyung began, and Jungkook walked towards the dresser. "Kookie- y-y-you-"

"Oops." Jungkook said, picking on his nails.

Taehyung rushed up to him, standing right behind him. Taehyung could see him through the mirror on the wall. "Baby please, please- I'll treat you so well-"

"Eh. Whatever. I'm kind of bored." Jungkook hummed, and then before he could walk away- Taehyung grabbed him, pressed him against the dresser, and got down on his knees.

"O-oh-" Jungkook let out with widened eyes, and saw Taehyung looking at him, so needy.

"P-please, Kookie-" Taehyung let out. "You're so fucking beautiful, baby," Taehyung let out, practically drunk with Jungkook. He began reached his t-shirt up, kissing his waist, his hips.

"I-I'm beautiful?" Jungkook asked, and Taehyung nodded, looking up at him.

"I'll make you feel so fucking good, my little one. Treat you like the beautiful, beautiful little princess that you are~ please, baby. Let me fuck you- just- just once, Kookie. I'm begging you." Taehyung whispered.

Jungkook's hands went through his hair, and he could feel himself hardening as well. He gulped. He didn't expect this to happen. Didn't expect Taehyung to be this needy.

"What're you willing to do for it?"

"I'll-" Taehyung began, and then gulped, thinking of things. "I'll suck your dick."

"What?" Jungkook let out, eyes widening. Holy shit, Taehyung really had lost it.

"I'll suck you off- I-I wanna- wanna suck you off," Taehyung said, and Jungkook smiled a little, eyes wild.

"Yeah," Jungkook whispered. "Yeah, go ahead, baby."

Taehyung's large hands pressed to his soft hips, and he looked up at him with large eyes. Taehyung looked at Jungkook's cock, standing up, flushed pink, and hesitated for a second or two before wrapping his lips around it.

Jungkook let out a moan, and then put his hand to tug Taehyung's hair. "F-fuck-" Jungkook let out, and Taehyung continued moving his lips down his cock, taking in as much as he could.

"A-ah- Taehyungie-" Jungkook squeaked, and Taehyung's tongue swirled around his cock, and he looked up at him, hands on his waist. Jungkook whimpered and jerked forward, and heard Taehyung gag lightly. Taehyung only kept going, kept going until he was deepthroating Jungkook.

He could feel Jungkook's cock on the back of his throat, and Jungkook looked down at him, saw how Taehyung took it with such ease, sucked on his cock like it was nothing. Jungkook let out a gasp of pleasure. "Good- good boy. Such a good boy for m-me-"

Taehyung finally pulled off him, and breathed heavily, licking his lips. "Don't want you to cum yet. Wanna fuck you first."

"Oh, puppy," Jungkook said in awe, cupping his cheeks. "My puppy, you wanna fuck me really bad, don't you?"

Taehyung nodded. "Wanna- wanna fuck you until-" Taehyung began, pressing a kiss to Jungkook's stomach. "Until you can't think of anything but my cock, Kookie. Nothing but my cock in you-"

Jungkook pressed his thighs together, and then tapped on Taehyung's shoulder, so Taehyung got up from his knees, cheeks blazing. "Fuck me, Taehyungie-" Jungkook whispered, and Taehyung eyes darkened.

He put his hand on Jungkook's t-shirt (his own) and, well, got so excited that he literally ripped it off Jungkook's chest, and then leaned down and picked the naked boy up bridal style, making him gasp.

Taehyung put him down on the bed and then went on top of him, looking down at him with a small smile. "I'm going to fuck you until you're screaming," Taehyung whispered, dragging his lips down Jungkook's cheek. "Going to fuck you until you can't walk, until your hole is shaped to the shape of my cock," Taehyung husked, and Jungkook let out a pitched whimper, hands fisting around the bedsheets.

"I-I like that," Jungkook said, and Taehyung hummed. "I like you. So fucking much." Taehyung said, and Jungkook leaned up and pressed their lips together.

https://jeontaeh.tumblr.com/post/647264385917763584/twenty-nine

[pagesoflauren]

A Thousand Years (vampire!Jack Lowden x reader AU) - Part 9

Part 8 Masterlist

Y/N sits at the dining table, fake flowers and leaves, a hot glue gun, branches and wire littering the entire surface as Socks plays with a fake flower on the floor by her feet. She’s mostly passing time as Jack naps upstairs.

Vampires don’t usually nap, but every once in a while they need to lay down and rest to recharge. She had laughed when he told her this, asking if he slept in a coffin like Dracula. This brought out his signature grumpy face, which she kissed away before she ushered him to bed and tucked him in.

“What do you think, Socks?” she asks, showing the feline the flower crown she was making for Halloween.

He blinks at her and she laughs.

“I was thinking the same thing, it does need more leaves.”

She sets to work, clicking away from the reference picture to another webpage with a list of coffeeshops in Liechtenstein, scrolling through the list as she pressed a leaf into a dot of hot glue. She had been calling coffeeshops for the past few weeks, ever since Lotta told her Thomas’s previous occupation. It had proven to be very difficult; apparently Liechtenstein had a lot of coffeeshops within a very small vicinity of each other. She had been calling shop after shop, talking to different managers and employees who had never heard the name before. She finds the next shop on the list and dials the number, listening for any sign of movement from Jack before pressing the call button.

The phone rings for a few seconds before someone answers.

“Hallo?” “Hallo, sprechen sie Englisch?” “Warten sie mal.”

Y/N recognizes warten as “wait”, so she settles the phone between her shoulder and ear, continuing to work as she hears some chatter on the other end.

“Hello?”

The man that answers has a slight accent and sounds quite young. The chances of him knowing Thomas are very slim.

“Hi, my name is Y/N, and I wanted to ask about a person who may have worked at your coffeeshop a few years ago?” “Sorry, Y/N, but it’s likely I don’t know this person you are talking to. Let me get my manager. I will have to stay on and translate for her though.” “Okay, that’s fine.”

She hears more chatter before the man in on the line again.

“What was his name?” “Thomas Morrison.” “Thomas Morrison,” he repeats. “How long ago did he work here?” “He should have left in 1995.”

He translates for his manager and she replies. “She has only been working here for a few years. The manager that…would have worked with this Thomas Morrison is retired.” “Is there a record of him somewhere? Something you can use to confirm that he did work there?”

There’s more discussion on the other line and Y/N can only pick up a few words.

“She said she will check, please give her a minute.” “Okay.”

She finishes the last touches of the flower crown and surveys it before setting aside to dry completely. She adjusts her phone to rest in her hand and leans her elbows on the table, rubbing the sore spot on her neck that developed from her neck being bent uncomfortably.

“Miss?” the boy says on the other line. “Hi, yes, I’m here.” “We do have record of this Thomas Morrison. He left to go to medical school in Belgium.” “Medical school?” “Yes.” “Do you know which one?” “I do not, I’m sorry. That’s all he said in his reason for resigning.” “Okay. Thank you so much.” “You’re welcome. Goodbye.”

She hangs up and sighs, looking down at Socks, who’s still occupied with the fake flower.

“Why can’t he be easier to find?” she mutters to him.

Socks meows and walks to his food bowl, looking at her expectantly.

“I wouldn’t expect you to sympathize,” she laughs, getting up to make his food, “You are a cat after all. And you only use me and Jack for food, don’t you?”

He meows again, rubbing against her leg as he watches her work.

“That is why, dear Socks, you are an imp for Halloween,” she says, mashing the wet food so that she can mix it with his dry food, “and Jack and I will be Hades and Persephone. I would dress you up as Cerberus, but an imp is much more suiting.”

“You can say that again,” she hears Jack say from the entrance to the kitchen. She sets Socks’ food bowl on the floor for him to eat before rushing over to hug him. He holds her as if he hasn’t seen her in days. “Did you have a good sleep?” she asks. “I did. What did you do while I was asleep?” “Worked on my Halloween costume. Do you dream? Did you dream?” Jack nods, smiling to himself. “What’d you dream about?”

Jack settles his back against a tree, sitting contentedly in the shade as he bites into an apple. Y/N leans against him and runs a hand up and down her swollen belly. She’s due any day now, the doctor said. He fiddles with the strands of hair that frame her face and she turns to face him, pressing a kiss into his cheek.

It’s 1878. Jack married Y/N immediately after finishing school. They live in a cottage not too far from his childhood home.

Their children run and toddle about the open field, the boys looking after their two-year-old sister as she runs into her eldest brother’s arms, giggling as she does. She squeals happily when the ten-year-old picks her up with both his arms.

“Andrew, be careful,” Jack calls to him, “make sure you support her!”

Andrew adjusts his arms to have one rest under her thighs as the other holds her back.

“Good lad,” Jack smiles to himself, “Junior! Fix your sock, it’s falling!”

The boy that’s inherited the most of Jack’s features looks up at him before looking down and pulling his sock up to cover his knee. He’s eight, the oldest of their middle children, three years older than his other brother and five years older than his sister.

“When can I carry Ginny?” the youngest boy asks, looking up at his brother. “When you’re big like me, Tommy,” Andrew says simply, “but she might be big then, too.” “Don’t worry, loves,” Y/N calls, “you’ll have another baby to carry, soon enough.” “Will it be a boy or another girl?” Junior says, stumbling over to his parents on the picnic table, bright blue eyes fixed on the bump. “I don’t know, darling,” Y/N says, “we’ll find out soon.” “When?” he asks impatiently. “Could be tomorrow, could be next week,” Jack answers. “But I want to know now!” “Patience, my love,” Y/N says, kissing the little boy’s nose, “It’ll happen before you know it.”

Jack Jr. huffs, pouting and furrowing his eyebrows.

“C’mere lad,” Jack says, the boy climbing into his lap, “You’re just like me. Far too excited for this.” “I just want to be like Andrew. I want to help you and mummy. He carries Ginny when we walk because you have to hold mummy and mummy’s got the baby in her tummy and-and Tommy and I carry the other stuff—“ “Oh, love, you and Tommy already help us. You take such good care of Ginny and you all make us so happy.” “But when that baby comes, I carry it, right?” “Mummy might carry ‘em for a little bit. Then when they’ve grown a bit you can help.” “Promise?” the boy asks, sticking a pale pinkie between him and his father. Jack laughs hooking his pinkie with his. “Of course, I promise.”

The afternoon carries on, Jack joining his children as he rolls in the grass and feels the sun on his skin. When they all head home, he embraces his wife, her head settling on his chest as his heart beats.

Jack’s eyes open as he exhales. He feels refreshed, albeit a little groggy and he rubs his eyes as he sits up. The blanket Y/N had laid over his chest falls in a heap on his lap. He thinks back to the dream. Y/N as his wife and five children. He loves the idea.

His thoughts are interrupted when he hears her talking.

“I wouldn’t expect you to sympathize. You are a cat after all.”

He chuckles to himself, getting out of bed and pulling a shirt over his torso as he heads downstairs.

“Just…just us,” he says, leaving out the part about children, “We were having a picnic in the summer.” She looks up at him, worrying that he might feel bad that they can’t do that. “Jack…” “Don’t worry about it, lass. So, how’s the costume coming along?” “Well yours is done, it was literally just a black piece of fabric fastened with a skull brooch. Then I just finished my flower crown.” “What time are we supposed to get there?” “Around 10:00.” “TEN!?” Jack says incredulously, startling Socks. “Yeah, the club doesn’t open till then. And it’s got a lounge upstairs for vampires according to Ash. It’s the club he and Garrett met at.” “How long are we going to be out?” “Why are you so worried, you don’t sleep!” “That’s just…so late.” “Come on, old man,” Y/N chides, “live a little.” “Oh shut it,” he laughs, pulling her close and kissing her forehead. “Just promise me you won’t drink too much.” “Alright, I’ll try,” she laughs.

“WHERE’S JAAACCCKKKK,” Y/N cried, a beer in her hand and her flower crown sliding off her head. “Oh, jeez, babe, get yourself together, you don’t wanna look like trash,” Ash said as he fixed it for her, laughing and hiccuping as he took a swig of his own beer. “But I don’t look anything like you? I’m wearing a dress and you’re Gary King.” “No, I said trash,” he yells over the music. “OOHHHHH I THOUGHT YOU SAID ‘ASH’ LIKE YOUR NAME.” “No, but I do need to get on your level,” he says, downing his beer and ordering another one.

“Persephone,” a male voice booms over the music. Y/N turns to him, smiling at first because she’s expecting her boyfriend, then scowling when she sees it’s someone else. “You know Persephone’s daddy was Zeus, right?” he smirks, holding up his lightning bolt.

Y/N looks at Ash, he looks at her before they burst out laughing.

“You also realize Persephone’s m-married, right?” Y/N laughs, “to Hades.”—she hiccups—“Quite frankly my Hades would kick your ass.” “I’m sure Hades wouldn’t mind if Zeus had some fun for a night,” the man continues, his confidence dampened a little. “Bruh, trust me, I know her Hades,” Ash says, chugging half his beer, “don’t mess with him.” “Seriously, dude, things aren’t looking good for you,” Y/N says, “byeeee.”

They wave him off together and he’s visibly deflated, but soon enough he’s going after some other girl in a Greek-looking costume. “What an idiot,” Ash laughs. “Whatever,” Y/N says, “wanna take a shot with me?” “Hell yes.”

Jack and Garrett are surprised to find the upstairs lounge very overcrowded with other vampires. There’s a good amount of them around the bar waiting to order drinks, some of them on the dance floor and others on the couches with feeders on their laps. Jack stares at the seating area a bit too long, catching Garrett’s attention. “You think Y/N’d be okay if you had one tonight?” he asks, pointing to a group of young men and women waiting for a vampire to invite them over for a drink. “What?” Jack replies, snapping out of his daze, “Oh, no. I don’t do that anymore.” “Ah, not since you’ve met her?” “No, I haven’t done it in a couple years. I hunt out in the countryside.” “Bears?” “Deer, mostly.” “I see. Why’d you stop? With feeders, I mean.” “Got a little too attached, I guess. I couldn’t really bear it,” Jack says simply, summing it up without complications. “Ah, I see.” “You think it’s gonna take long to get our drinks?” “Why?” “M’just worried about Y/N.” “Nah, don’t worry mate, she’ll be fine with Ash.”

They eventually make it to the bar and order their drinks, deciding to go back downstairs to rejoin Y/N and Ash wherever they were. Jack almost stumbles over the piece of long cloth hanging from his costume, nearly dropping his drink and tumbling down the stairs. “Christ,” he breathes, “How did people wear these back then?” “Beats me,” Garrett shrugs. “You’re lucky you picked a modern costume. Y/N wanted to be Persephone and Hades because I’m grumpy like him and she’s all flowery and stuff.” Garrett snorts a laugh, “It’s kinda true, mate,” he says, sipping his whiskey. “Bleh, too much whiskey.” “What, bad proportions?” Jack asks as he sips his own drink. It’s not that bad. It’s the first time he’s had a cruento, and he’s enjoying it. He likes the idea of being able to drink again while also satisfying his craving for blood, though the taste is a bit foreign since he’s gotten so used to drinking animal blood.

“Do you see them anywhere?” Garrett asks, his eyes searching for their partners. They must’ve been somewhere dancing in the crowd since they’re no longer at the bar when they left them half an hour ago.

The time was creeping to midnight; it had taken the group nearly an hour to get into the damn place despite arriving before 10 and forty-five minutes for Garrett and Jack to get their drinks. It’s obvious Ash and Y/N had gone to town with the drinking because the two vampires can hear them screaming Britney Spears lyrics over the shouts of the crowd. They weave in and out of the group of sweaty, dancing bodies, denying people who ask them to dance. “No, sorry lass, I’ve got a girlfriend.” “Excuse me—nah I’m good.” “M’good mate, not much of a dancer.” “No thanks I’m gay.”

When they finally find them, they don’t know how to react.

They’re in the middle of the dance floor, with traffic cones on their heads, empty glasses in their hands and screaming the lyrics to “…Baby One More Time.”

“Uh…” Garrett stammers out, “Yeah, you were right to worry. Y/N, ASH WHAT IS GOING ON?”

“GARRETT!!!” Ash exclaims excitedly, rushing to him before throwing his arms around his shoulders, “We’re listening to classics! But that might mean something different to you since you’re”—he hiccups—“like 500 or something.”

“I’m only 224,” Garrett says, steadying him by his waist, “How much have you had?” Ash holds up his arm; there’s only two lines drawn on it. “Oh we-we stopped count’n after two but I think it was…Y/N how much have we had?” She’s too busy giggling at Jack and stroking his beard to answer. “Dunno, maybe ten?” Ash answers instead. “Alright, that’s too much, let’s go home,” Garrett says, beginning to pull him out of the crowd.

“Y/N, love, where’s your crown?” he asks, pulling the traffic cone off her head and letting it fall to the floor. “I dunno. Why are you holding me though? I have a boyfriend and he’s dressed like—hey! He’s got the same costume as you!” “Darling, it’s me,” Jack explains. “Ohhhh really?” she asks, her hands coming up to stroke his cheek and feel the scratchy texture of his beard, “it is! Jack, I missed you!”

Jack hears Garrett begin to pull Ash out of the crowd and starts trying to coax Y/N into his arms to do the same. “Come on, love, let’s get you home.” “But I want food!” she whines, hanging off him as he practically carries her by her waist. “We’ll get you food, alright? Don’t you worry love, let’s just get outta here.” “Okay. You’re kinda strong, aren’t you?” she giggles.

He laughs, remembering how she said the same thing to him the first night they met. “Yeah, just a bit, love.”

Once he’s pulled her out of the crowd, he finds Garrett and Ash slowly making their way out of the club. The two vampires guide their partners to the car, Garrett and Ash climbing into the backseat as Jack lifts Y/N to sit in the passenger’s side. He buckles her in and she’s looking at him. “What, what’s wrong?” “I want a kiss.”

He huffs a chuckle, pressing his lips to hers and feeling his nose wrinkle at the taste of alcohol on her lips.

“Alright,” he says as he pulls away, “what would you like to eat?” “I want garlic fries.” He wrinkles his nose again. “Are you sure, love?” “Mhmm. Garlic fries and a milkshake.” “What does he want?” Jack asks Garrett, who repeats the question to Ash who’s playing with the zipper on his jacket. “I want garlic fries too.” “Alright,” Jack concedes, “let’s get you two some garlic fries.”

At almost 1:00, Y/N and Ash’s craving is satisfied and Jack has dropped off Garrett and Ash at their place before bringing Y/N home. He carries her upstairs before sitting her on the bed. He helps her take off her costume, unpinning and pulling the fabric off her figure and folding it to place on top of the dresser. He takes her shoes and leggings off and is about to go grab her a glass of water when she grips his shirt.

“What is it?” he coos. “Want…want this,” she says simply. “Okay,” he laughs. He unpins his own costume and lets it pool at his feet before taking his shirt off and placing it on the bed next to her. “Arms up,” he instructs her. She complies and he pulls her tank top over her head and unclasps her bra. He puts his shirt on for her, smiling as she practically swims in it.

“Wanna take off your makeup?” he asks. She nods and he turns to grab a makeup wipe for her. She wipes her makeup as he goes down to fetch a glass of water for her. When he returns, she’s occupied with the yellow blanket they had brought out from the basement. She’s running the fabric between her fingers and staring at it intently.

“Y/N, darling,” he calls softly, bringing her attention to him, “come drink this for me.” “Okay,” she says quietly, bringing the glass to her lips and gulping the water down.

When she’s done, he takes the glass away and sets it on the bedside table before opening his arms for her to cuddle into him. She wraps whatever appendages she can around his body, clinging to him like a koala and Jack can’t help but laugh, so endeared by her. He imagines this is what would’ve happened if he stayed the first night they met, her holding onto him as if he’s going to disappear and him feeling nothing but pure adoration for her.

Tagging: @albionscastle and @ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff :)

[eablevinswrites]

Read It

Anna Goode meets Noah in the worst of circumstances. She knows she should keep away from him, that seeing him courts danger for them both, but she can’t stop herself.

Warnings: Violence and language.

Buy me a coffee?

Excerpt

Anna Margaretta Goode strode toward the old sports equipment shed, her short heels sinking into the soft post-rainstorm grass. When she couldn’t find her boyfriend, she knew to look for him here. He and his friends from the lacrosse team liked to hang out in there, pretending they were tough and disreputable. It smelled like old feet, but they didn’t seem to mind.

She slogged up to the door and pounded her fist against it. “Miles! Miles you jerk, I’ve been waiting thirty minutes on your sorry butt! The buses are gone, the humidity is destroying my hair, and I want to go the hell home!”

Miles opened the door a crack. She heard his teammate Abel’s voice from the room behind him: “Dude, put a leash on your girlfriend.”

“This isn’t a good time, baby,” said Miles.

Anna glared up at him. “When is a good time? When you say so? It’s five-thirty, practice is well over, and all my other ride options are gone. I’ve ruined my shoes coming out here because you decided I’m not as important as, what, smoking pot?” She planted a hand in the middle of his chest, gave a good hard shove, and squeezed in the doorway as he took a surprised step back.

“Goddammit, Miles, I told you to leash the bitch.”

Anna stopped cold at the sight of a swarthy young man tied and gagged with duct tape. He hung from a pull-up bar by his bound hands, face bruised and bloody.

And she went off. In Spanish, because she knew none of them spoke Spanish and it always pissed Abel off to no end. Anna was fluent thanks to her Mexican mother, and she used it to dress the boys up and down for being stupid violent assholes.

She targeted most of it at Abel, because she knew the others were just followers. This insane idea was his, no question.

He argued back some, mostly threats about gagging her and orders for Miles to shut her up. Miles did take her by the shoulders and try to tug her away to calm her down, but it was too gentle to be effective.

When she ran out of air, she switched to English and snapped viciously, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Abel rolled his eyes in disgust.

She turned to Rich and Jason, who sat by the window flexing their damaged knuckles. The brothers grinned sheepishly, and the expression made them look even more alike than usual. “Just welcoming the new kid. He’s a transfer from Summit.”

Abel gave their captive a shove. “Bastard thinks he’s better than us. We’re teaching him a lesson.”

Anna turned on Miles. “You’re going to get expelled if you keep letting him talk you into crap like this.”

Abel rolled his eyes. “Better hide your balls, Miles, before she cuts them off.”

Anna turned and snapped, “That’s funny, coming from a guy without any.”

Abel grabbed his crotch. “You wanna check?”

Miles slid his arms around Anna’s waist. “Calm down, baby, he’s just messing with you.”

She swatted his arms away. “You don’t get to touch me while I’m mad at you.”

“What did I do?”

“Did you forget about taking me home? Or is beating the crap out of some stranger more satisfying than having a girlfriend, because I swear to God . . .”

“Okay, I’m sorry already! Jeez.” Miles hunched his shoulders up around his ears.

Abel made a face. “Is there any chance you two can take this outside before my balls shrivel up from all this bitching?”

Anna tossed him a glare. “Not a snowball’s in hell.”

Abel let his head fall back. “I’m going to the vending machine. Don’t touch anything ‘til I get back. You guys coming?” The brothers followed him out, leaving Anna and Miles alone in the shed.

More or less.

Anna ignored their duct-taped audience and jabbed a fingernail into Miles’s chest. “You are going to go get your car, and you are going to bring it out here.”

“That’s against school rules, Anna. It’ll mess up the grass.”

She jabbed him harder. “So is everything you’ve ever done in this shed, so you are going to get your freaking car, bring it out, and pick me up because there is no way in hell I’m walking all the way back to the parking lot in heels.”

Miles hesitated, but she flung her arm up and pointed toward the door. “Go.”

With a scowl, he moved. “I’m going, I’m going. God, you’ve gotten bitchy.”

As the door shut behind him, she turned, pulled a lipstick out of her purse, and uncapped it. She deftly twisted the tube until a small blade appeared. Anna sliced through the duct tape on the boy’s feet, then went to work on his hands. When he dropped to the floor and rubbed his wrists, she put the knife away and crumpled the duct tape into a ball. “Use the window. Head straight for the trees. They won’t be able to see you from the vending machines.” She nodded toward a large window in the back of the shed.

The boy ripped the tape off his mouth and spat blood onto the floor. He was taller than her and had shoulder-length dark hair, but she couldn’t tell much about his face with all the bruising. He rubbed gingerly at his ribs and his shirt hiked up enough to show a patchwork of fresh bruises across his abdomen and sides.

She frowned. “You can run, right? Nothing broken?”

“I can run.”

“Then get out of here.”

He hesitated. “What about you?”

“They won’t hurt me.” Probably.

“You’re sure?”

“I’ll be fine. Go.” With the same gesture she’d used on Miles, she pointed at the window.

He went.

Anna exited the the shed by the door and shut it behind her before Abel and the other two started back from the vending machines under the football stands.

“What are you doing out here?” Abel asked when they reached her. He had a cold drink in one hand and shoved the shed door open with the other.

“Waiting for Miles.”

“Where—” Abel paused, halfway inside the shed, then let out a vicious curse. He stepped back and grabbed Anna’s arm hard enough to make her gasp. “Where is he?”

“Getting his truck. He’s going to pick me up.”

Abel stared at her a second. “Not Miles, you stupid bitch. The guy that was there.” On the last word, he yanked her into the shed, nearly pulling her off her feet, and angled her toward the pull-up bar.

She snarled something in Spanish, pulling at her arm, and he twisted it so hard that she gasped and froze. She could have sworn the bone creaked.

“Did you let him go?!”

She willed herself to believe that the feeling in her stomach was fury and not terror. She dredged every ounce of bravado in her body, dragging it up from her toes to stare Abel straight in the eye. “Don’t try and blame your weak knots on me, jackass. Now let me go.” She tried to keep the pleading out of her voice when she added, “You know Miles doesn’t like you to touch me.”

Abel breathed heavily for a moment, pupils contracted, before he released her.

She raised her chin and held her injured arm but refused to examine it even though the pain made her want to cry.

Abel turned to Rich and Jason. “We have to find him. Come on.”

She watched them round the shed to look for footprints, which were easy to find in the soft post-rain grass. She watched them through the open window as they raced toward the trees in the distance. If she hadn’t cut the boy free, how badly would they have hurt him? Would they even have known when to stop?

Would they have refused if Abel decided to hurt Anna instead of the boy from Summit?

She doubted it.

Anna examined the angry red handprint on her arm and silently prayed the Summit boy had gotten enough of a head start. Otherwise, he was screwed.

Read the rest.