#sh. chapter nineteen

[thinkinonsense]

Eat or Be Eaten ✦ Steve Harrington x fem!oc: S1: The Vanishing of Will Byers.

╰┈➤ Summary: In the dark corners of Hawkins, Indiana holds the gate to an alternate upside-down dimension. When a little boy goes missing in the town, Johanna Hopper and her friends gather to help find him before it's too late. Along the way, Johanna finds herself getting intertwined with the likings of a strange little girl and someone she claims to hate.

╰┈➤c/w: violence, cursing, angst, mentions of death

╰┈➤ word count: 2k+

╰┈➤a/n: I posted this completed fic on wattpad, but I thought I would post it here too. If you want to be added to the future tags list, comment on this, and I'll add you. Hope everyone enjoys :)

╰┈➤next chapter here

• November Seventh, Nineteen Eighty-Three

✦ Monday mornings were truly hellish. Classes felt longer yet, the rest of the day ran shorter. Your car takes forever to warm up, even after you kick the tires and curse at it. Some mornings the only thing getting you out of bed are your friends or the coffee sitting in the kitchen, waiting for you long after your father made it an hour ago.

This morning, it was the coffee.

"Johanna? Are you even listening?" The voice snaps me back into reality.

"Hm?" I blink at my shorter, curly-haired friend.

"Did you hear what I said?"

No, I did not.

"Yeah." I nod, removing the rim of my coffee lid from my lips. "You said, 'Something, Something, Steve this, Steve that, Something'."

The taller, red-headed girl beside me tried her hardest not to laugh at my comment but a small giggle escaped her. Meanwhile, my eyes flash around the hallway and past the parking lot doors, waiting for someone else this morning.

"I didn't say that."

"But I was close though? Right, Nance?"

She rolls her eyes playfully and shuts her locker. Just past her head, I spot Steve Harrington and his obnoxious friends approaching us.

"Morning ladies," Steve says, while only looking at Nancy.

Without much care, I lifted my cup over my mouth again when Barb looked at me, I put my finger in my mouth, pretending to gag at the scene. Nancy, Barbra, and I have been friends since fifth grade, so it's fair to say we know each other well.

"Someone looks jealous." Tommy H laughed, watching Barb and I.

"Not jealous per-say. Disgusted? Definitely." Barb shoves my rib softly, causing me to add. "No offense, Wheeler."

Apparently, that ruffled a few feathers but luckily, the bell for the first period rang and I could make a swift exit. As I walked into the classroom, I saw that most students were still waiting for Mrs. Young. Following in shortly behind me was Steve and Carol, Tommy's girlfriend, who is possibly the most annoying person I have ever met.

Steve sits in his seat right in front of me, blocking my entire view of the board with his immense hair. Ever since Nance developed this crush on him, I soon realized that he would be around regardless of whether or not I wanted him to be.

"Hey, did Nance tell you about tonight?" He asks, twisted in his chair to talk to me.

As I try to recall anything Nancy said this morning, I lick the bitter coffee residue off my lips.

"What's tonight?"

"I invited you guys over. It's a small get-together."

"Sounds like a party."

"Well, don't rat us out to your dad and maybe it can be." He smirks, trying to charm me.

"Actually I think he would enjoy a little party."

Steve rolls his eyes and then sighs, turning around in his chair when Mrs. Young walks into the room.

For as long as I have known Steve Harrington, he's been an entitled, silver-spoon-fed jerk. It wasn't until he learned that Nancy liked him that now he is trying to be a little less of a douchebag.

But still a douchebag, nonetheless.

✮

After fifth period, on my way back to my locker, I saw Barb waiting for me. Just a few feet away stood Steve and Nance at Steve's locker, making heart eyes at each other and tripping over their words.

"What's with the long look, red?" I ask, nudging Barb's arm while I unlock my locker.

"Nothing it's..." She sighs, debating on if she should say what she's thinking. "It's just that Nance is so obsessed with Steve."

That might sound rash but lately, it seems like all Nancy ever wants to talk about is Steve.

"Yeah, like this past weekend when we were out shopping, all she only cared about finding a new sweater that Steve would like."

"Exactly! I mean, I get that but..."

Barb's voice started to fade into a void while we were heading to Nancy's locker because, in the teacher's lounge, I heard someone say my dad's name, making me stop dead in my tracks.

"Did you hear that Chief Hopper is looking for that Byers kid? Apparently, he didn't make it home last night."

Byers kid? Was it Jonathan or Will? Is that why Jonathan's not here? It has to be.

"Johanna, where are you-?"

"I gotta go! I'll see you later!"

I turned around and ran out the back doors to my car. Tapping my thumbs on my wheel, anxiously while I sped over to Jonathan's house.

There were so many questions but I was too afraid to know the answers. Jonathan's car was parked outside but Joyce's car was missing.

"Jonathan!" I shouted, knocking on the wooden door.

"Who is it-"

The door opened and I sprung myself onto him, hugging him tightly. He was stiff until he realized it was me, relaxing into the hug.

"Dude! You scared the shit out of me! I thought, thought that..." I mumbled into his neck.

"It's Will."

My heart plummeted; to my stomach as I pulled away to look at him. Wet tears still stained his cheeks.

"He's missing."

We went back to Jonathan's room. A song by The Smiths played when we walked in. He turned it down and we both slumped down on his bed.

I could not believe it. Will was the quietest and sweetest little boy, how could he have just disappeared?

"Last night, he was supposed to bike home from Mike's house-"

"Nancy's little brother?"

Mike, Will, and their two other friends were quite a few years younger than us. Seventh graders to be specific.

"Yeah. He and Mike play Dungeons and Dragons with two of their other friends, Lucas and Dustin."

"Okay, then what happened?"

"I'm not sure. For some reason, Will didn't come home last night and we haven't seen him this morning." He sighed. "My mom's downtown talking with your dad about it."

"Well, somehow people are starting to find out."

"Who told you?"

"No one. I overheard some teachers talking about it at lunch."

Jonathan nodded then rested his head on my shoulder. I know he would never ask me this but I am sure he's wondering if this is how I felt when my younger sister, Sarah passed away.

Our parents have known each other since high school but it wasn't until Sarah passed and my mom left that I grew close with Jonathan. Sure, we had met before or gone to the other's birthday parties but once we hit middle school, we started to hang out together.

We listened to The Smiths' whole album in silence; just sitting together. Neither of us said anything until we heard Joyce's car pull into the driveway.

"Oh, Johanna!" Joyce jumped when she saw me in the hallway with Jonathan. "I was just with your father... Did he... Did he tell you about..?"

"No, Jonathan did," I answered. We knew it was best not to tell Joyce that the news was being spread already. "Is there anything I can do to help out?"

"No, sweetie," Joyce says, lighting a cigarette; and taking a seat at their table. "If you hear anything from your dad, let us know."

I nod before saying goodbye to them.

The house was hollow when I returned. Most nights it was like this, Dad would work late at the station and I would be here alone. It was different when I was growing up. Don't get me wrong, I love my dad. We've had our fair share of bumpy roads behind us but now, we only have each other.

In the kitchen, the phone began to ring.

"Hello?" I answered, leaning against the fridge.

"Johanna..." Nance practically sings into the phone.

"Yes, Wheeler?"

"I need a favor."

"What favor?"

I already knew what she wanted. Nancy likely already called Barb and wants her to come with her to Steve's house.

"Will you come with Barb and me to Steve's house?"

"Harrington house? On a school night?" I say teasingly. "Wheeler, you rebel."

"C'mon, Johanna." She whined. "Please."

"I'm the daughter of the Chief, remember? They don't want me there."

"Steve does!"

I roll my eyes, popping a candy cane into my mouth.

"Yeah, so he can get into your pants."

She hesitates then says, "That's not true!"

"Sorry, Nance. Try and drown Carol for me."

And with that, she hung up.

✮

The following morning, I waited by Barb's locker for fifteen minutes before the bell for first period rang and I realized, she wasn't there. It wasn't like her to miss school.

After fourth period, I finally ran into Nance in the girls' bathroom.

"Hey! Have you seen, Barb?" Nancy asked me.

"No, she wasn't in third," I answered her.

"She wasn't in homeroom either. I asked around and no one else has seen her today."

"Did you ask anyone from her band class?"

"No." She shakes her head. "I haven't seen her since We got to Steve's house last night then she just left."

"Without you?"

That was hard to believe, they are basically attached at the hip. Barb and I are close but they were on a whole other level.

"I went upstairs with Steve for a few minutes, then when I came back down she was gone."

I could understand why she would have left, especially if Nancy went upstairs with Harrington 'for a few minutes'.

"Try calling her house and I'll check the library."

Nancy nodded and we split up. The library was practically empty so even though I knew she wasn't in here, I still checked. On my way back to the courtyard, I ran into one of Barb's friends from band, Robin.

No, literally, I ran into her.

"Ouch! Where did you even come from?" She groaned, holding her shoulder.

"Sorry! Have you seen Barb today?" I asked her.

"Um, no but I'm heading to band practice so, I can let you..."

My brain tuned Robin's voice out because just right behind her head, across the parking lot, I saw Steve drop Jonathan's camera on the cement.

"I gotta go! Thanks!" I yelled before running away.

When I arrived, Steve and his friends were walking back inside with Nancy, leaving Jonathan to pick everything up.

"Nance!" I yelled, hoping she would stay.

"Sorry." She mouthed, following Steve back to the school.

Ripped photographs were lying there too. It didn't take a genius to figure out what these were of. One half-ripened photo of Nancy's naked back with Steve's bedroom walls in the background was under my foot.

"I swear I didn't mean to take those," Jonathan explained. "I was looking for Will last night and-"

"I believe you."

We picked up everything that we could of the camera pieces. That camera meant so much to him and it wasn't a cheap one either. Joyce worked many hours and saved up to get that for his birthday.

Jonathan left afterward, mumbling something about visiting his dad. Angrily, I went back to the school. Originally, I was looking for Nancy, but instead, I found Steve in the gymnasium.

"Harrington!" I yelled, causing all of the basketball players to stop their game and look over.

Reluctantly, he followed me out to the empty hallway.

"What?" He says, trying to come off as pissed.

"What the hell is your issue?" I hissed.

"Right now, it's you."

Is he joking right now? He has to be.

"I have no issue punching that so-called pretty face, Harrington. So, tread lightly." I glare, stepping forward.

The cocky look on his face made me even angrier. I've tried to give him the benefit of the doubt since Nance likes him but I have had it with him.

"That's because Daddy and his buddies down at the station wouldn't dare put cuffs on you." He says, leaning down a little in an attempt to intimidate me.

"Whatever." I scoff, turning around to leave. A larger hand reaches for my wrists, stopping me.

"Tell that little perv to stay away from Nance."

Without hesitation, I lifted my foot and kicked him in the shin. He cussed me out as he hunched over to rub the skin. I bent down enough to be leveled with his ear.

"Don't touch me."

✮

I didn't expect to see my dad tonight so I made myself a snack before work. Forgetting dinner altogether. My vest sat on the couch while I looked around for the name tag. That's when the phone rang.

"Hello?" I answered, pulling the cord all the way to my room.

"Johanna? Hey, it's Nance."

"Hey, I can't talk for long. I have to work tonight. What's up?"

"I called Barb's house but her mom said she doesn't know where she is."

Shit. I tuned out most of what Nancy was saying after that. My heart started pounding in my chest, Will and Barb? Both missing?

"...So, can you try and talk to your dad? Maybe he can find something out."

"Um, yeah. I'll talk to him the next time I see him."

I hung up and raced to the station, forgetting the name tag completely at this point. The police station was fifteen minutes away, and I made it there in under ten.

"Donna! I need to talk to my father!" I told her as soon as I walked in.

"He's not here, honey." She said, not even looking up at me from her desk.

"It's urgent."

"Then file a police report."

Half of me was tempted to jump the counter instead, I walked back to my dad's office to see if he was back there still. Donna was right, he was already gone.

"He's out looking for the Byers boy. I can leave a message." She sighs, following me in here.

"Never mind. I'll talk to him later at home." I huffed, storming out.

"You really are his daughter." She scoffed.

I know, I shouldn't have acted that way but I couldn't help it. Barb was missing and I needed to tell him as soon as possible.

The car was freezing the rest of the way to work. Stupid heat was going out again. When I arrived at work, I got out and hit my tires, mumbling curse words under my breath at it.

"Do you need some help?" The voice startled me.

"No, thanks," I said, turning around. "Robin?"

"Yeah." She laughed, throwing it in the bin.

"You're working here now?"

"Looks like it."

It would be nice to have another girl working here with me. Right now it's only me, Keith, and Nick.

"Did they seriously make you take the trash out in the snow?" I asked, joining her by the dumpster to help her lift the bags.

"Yeah." She laughs, tossing another in.

"Assholes."

We laughed together and headed back into the theater.

✮

"Theater Two, on the left. Enjoy your movie." My voice was flat like the Coca-Cola Robin dispensed into the cups.

"Did you see Barb at band practice today? After I talked to you?" I asked her after everyone else in the lobby left.

"No. Is everything okay?" Her back was still turned, filling up the popcorn machine again.

"Yeah, I just haven't heard from her."

Robin nodded her head but didn't say much after. Keith called her to his office, leaving me in the lobby for a few minutes. I didn't want to lie to her but, I wasn't sure if my hunch was right.

Nick comes up behind me, making me jump.

"Dude, you scared me," I said, noticing the seriousness in his face.

"Johanna..."

There's this dreaded look on Nick's face even though he's avoiding my eyes.

"The cops... um, they found the Byers boy... he didn't make it."

This had to be fake.

Yet, it felt so real.

✮

The following few minutes were hazy. I grabbed my keys and ran out to the parking lot. Robin said something about covering my last few hours for me.

All those years that I mourned a sister I barely got to know, came hurling back at me but only worse because I knew Will. The summers I spent babysitting him, hanging out with him and Jonathan after school, all the memories we had. Moments I can't get back.

The station wasn't far from work and Dad's cop car was parked out front when I pulled in.

"Dad? Where's my dad?" I asked Donna again. I must look like a mess with the empathetic look she gave me before pointing to his office.

"Dad, I heard... I heard about, about Will." I barely choked out.

He let me sob in his arms until I was ready to let go but the truth is, I never want to let go.

[adventuringblind]

Drive With You Forever

Chapter Five: Cats, Cluelessness, and difficult communication

Max Verstappen x Reader x Charles Leclerc x Lando Norris

Chapter Summary: a brief interlude in the off-season before 2020, Sebastian adopts Charles, Max struggles to communicate his feelings, and the reader makes a new friend 👀

Warnings: mentions of SH, reader over does it again, seizure like episode, Lando is awkward, Charles is awkward, Max can't do feeling well yet, jos verstappen

Notes: ah yes, the gang is all here now. I have more action coming in the next part. Maybe also some fluffy stuff. I've been trying to get some blurbs done for what isn't shown in the long chapters because I've had to cut down on some things. I would love to give y'all some content of our duo, trio, or quartet doing something specific.

Previous <-

Masterlist

The end of the season means a bit of a break for the drivers. A chance to spend some time with their families. For her, it means spending time with Sebastian and Hanna in Germany.

The trio had wanted to officially introduce themselves. They knew, but the three barely got a chance to interact all together. It would be nice to catch up anyways.

They are all sat at the dining room table. Even the littles wanted to join in on the conversation. Mostly they spout of randomness as they listen but it’s still endearing to everyone.

The three are sat in a row. Charles far left, the female in the middle and Max on the right if her.

“So I’m curious, who gets the middle of the bed?” Seb laughs at his own question. Hanna playfully hits his shoulder. Charles and Max both look at her. She just rolls her eyes as they both start laughing.

“Are you three moving in together?” Hanna asks this time. Genuine curiosity, unlike her husband.

Charles almost chokes. He hadn’t thought about it.

He’s thankful he’s not the first to answer. “Are you saying you want me out?” It’s a playful question from the girl. She’s smiling like an idiot at the banter.

“Of course not. You’re welcome here forever.”

Max swallows his food then joins the conversation. “We were actually planning on moving some things to my apartment since we’re here.” Now Charles feels out of place. Was he not asked yet for a reason? They hadn’t been together long so it would make sense. “Charles lives in Monaco already so I figured his things would be easier to move.” Max explains.

Now he’s confused. Something Max can clearly see. They make eye contact for a moment and Charles is left a mess. “Unless you don’t want to anymore?”

Charles is shaking his head no at lightning speed. He definitely wants to. He’s tired of living alone and throwing himself pity parties over breaks. Plus, he learns he sleeps better when he's not alone.

~

Moving feels more sentimental to her this time. She had more stuff than when she was fifteen.

Sbeastion offered to let them fly private with him to help move her stuff to Monaco. She wanted to, but it was unnecessary. Most of her belongings that she needs fits into an extra suitcase.

Max and Charles both kept asking her if she had anything else. It was getting on her nerves a bit.

Hanna and Seb had done the same thing when she first came to Germay. Though she had less then. Hanna had taken her to get some new clothes because her t-shirts all had holes in them.

Flights were weird. The first class has two seats for each row, meaning that one of them got to sit somewhere else. They often played musical chairs on the plane because of this.

She'd always had an affinity for even numbers.

It was an interesting dynamic they had created. Charles and Max are barely a month apart, and she's just turned nineteen. They get to do things she can't yet. But she's gentle and knows exactly what they need and is far to gentle for what she's been through.

Charles felt that he was playing catch up with the other two. He was new to this and still new to them. He, however, was the best at communication between the three.

Max, having grown up in an interesting family setting, is aggressive and protective. His communication skills are lacking, but he would do anything to keep his significant others out of harms way.

Today was one of those days that Max was struggling communication wise. It had started after an intense phone call where the other two were attempting (and failing) at deciphering dutch.

She'd offered to sit next to him if he needed consoling, but he decided to sit further away from the two. Leaving them to figure out what happened.

This had brought the thoughts of even numbers. If they were flying with four of them, Max wouldn't be able to mope alone.

"Do you think it was Jos?" Charles asked. His eyes had been on the Dutch for most of the flight.

"I would assume so given that he was speaking Dutch, and he doesn't do that with many people."

Both sigh. Jos had been on Max's ass about moving up into a championship title. Che was ready to have some words, either him, next time they were together, and Charles was going to start making a point to celebrate every placement in a race.

It didn't take long to get to Max's apartment. It's not the most luxurious, but it's comfortable. He's planning to get something worthy of the three of them after he gets a title.

Max had successfully locked himself away in his bedroom. The other two left to figure out what he needs. Maybe it is just a time thing?

"Is he usually like this after a call with Jos?"

She shrugs her shoulders. "It depends on if he's praising or berating."

"Can we help him?" Charles is eyeing the closed door and her. His brain working out every way to get him to open up.

She smirks. There always one thing that cheered up Max.

~

Max was choking back tears. He felt weak. Like he was never going to he enough.

He felt bad for stomping off the way he did, but he didn't want his partners to see him like this.

He hears the soft rape of knuckles against the door. "Mon Amour? Can we please come in?"

He grunts, but the Monegasque takes it as approval.

Charles peeks his head in. His gentle steps are coming closer to Max. He doesn't look up. He just keeps his head buried in his pillow.

Charles doesn't say anything, which he appreciates. Just sits down on the edge and lets Max's body dip towards his. Then he's running his fingers through Max's hair.

It's not long before another set of footsteps are padding into the room. These ones softer then Charles, telling Max it's y/n.

She's successfully moved both Jimmy and Sassy into the room from their hiding spots and is holding his favorite movie. She sneaks in and closes the door behind her.

They spend the next couple of hours lying in bed with the cats and watching their movie.

Max feels himself calming down. They don't talk about anything. Aside from occasionally copying the lines from the movie they've watched far to many time.

It's after that he feels like he can say something. His mind finally grounded back to reality. "I'm sorry for shutting you both out. I was just... agitated, I guess."

The Monegasque has his fingers back in his hair in an instant. "It's okay, you needed space. Do you want to talk about it now?"

The youngest places sassy on his chest as a way to comfort him. Her hands intertwine with his.

"Just frustrated that my dad thinks I'm not trying. He started spouting that I'll never get anywhere at this rate."

"That a lie. Jos is obviously lacking brain cells." The youngest pipes. "I can throw him into a wall if you want?"

The idea actually makes him smile.

~

Charles was the next to move things in. Though it was mildly awkward explaining to his family why he was moving somewhere else.

Turns out he can't keep a secret. His family is accepting. Pascale welcomes both into her home. She takes a particular liking to the quiet girl who is still always between the two older boys.

His stuff takes up more of the apartment than hers. The contrast of red and blue is now showing everywhere.

"If Charles is red, Max is blue, and I'm always in the middle, does that make me purple?" She spouts while unpacking a box of ferrari shirts.

Max spits out the water he was drinking. Charles starts wheezing. And she is laughing at her own comment.

"Where did you come up with that, Chéri?"

"Just a thought I've been sitting on since we started dating."

"You're not wrong, though." Max is wiping his mouth clean from the water.

~

It's weird going places together. Not errands and things, but social gatherings. Charles has asked to keep things private for now. He's not fond of the questions people have about the nuances of their relationship.

They came and left separately. Usually, depending on who wanted to leave first, the other would wait about fifteen minutes.

A few months into the break, Lando Norris decides to call Max and invite him and his lover to a party. He does the same for Charles a minute after he hangs up with Max.

The three of you have to hold in your laughter as Charles tries to get through the phone call listening to the same details.

Despite what Lando said, this was not the type of party any of you are used to by now. At least not Charles and Max. She'd been to few and got overwhelmed by it all pretty quickly. Sometimes, she'd use it as an excuse to get the boys out of the apartment so she could have the cats to herself and play around with her powers.

Charles and Max both hate it when she does it alone. They've found her on the floor passed out on multiple occasions. She doesn't care, though. The visions and nightmares of her father were more reason to keep going.

Regardless, this party is small. Just a few drivers who had been in town or live in Monaco are here with their partners.

Kika and Pierre, George and Carmen, Alex and Lily, Carlos is here along with Daniel. Charles is seated in a solitary chair. The couches have been taken. Daniel and Lando on either side of him.

It feels nice and intimate in a way. She hadn't seen many drivers just get together to hang out like this.

Charles is ever the gentleman and offers her the chair, which she takes. Him and Max are now making themselves comfortable on the floor in front of her.

They're eating, drinking, laughing, and sharing stories from the past. It's nice and relaxing.

She taps Max's shoulder, alerting him that she's going for water and asking both boys if they need anything to which they reply no.

She spots Lando in his kitchen getting a drink. It's not an alcoholic one, just juice that looks like it could be alcohol.

She turns on his tap for water, and Lando jumps out of his skin. His eyes rapidly look between her and his cup.

"I like to mix my alcohol with juice...?" His voice sounds unsure. Does he think it's not okay to just have juice?

"Juice is a good choice, in my opinion. Alcohol is strong and feels funny sometimes."

Lando visibly relaxs. "Promise you won't tell anyone? They laugh at me sometimes when I do this."

"I promise."

~

Lando was around more after the party. He seemed comfortable around her and Max. He'd opened up about his anxiety to them and played far to many games with Max.

What they were not expecting was for Lando to show up at their apartment door at three o'clock in the morning. His breathing uneven body shaking like a leaf.

She knew what this was. She'd had plenty of panic attacks.

She guides him inside to the couch and is trying to asses the situation. Get his breathing to calm down so he doesn't hyperventilate.

It takes ten minutes until he's calm.

"Did something happen?"

"Just a nightmare, and I couldn't calm down after."

"Did you walk here?"

He nods his head yes. Exhaustion flooding his eyes.

"Is Max asleep?" He asks.

"Should be. He sleeps like a rock most of the time." They both giggle. Lando is now able to relax in a calm environment.

They are interrupted by two sets of footsteps. Charles and Max come barreling into the living room. Panic on their faces one minute and embarrassment the next. Lando staring at the with the utmost confusion.

The older boys are shirtless and in sweats. Max's arm protectively outstretched in front of Charles.

"...oops."

~

Lando is not stupid. He may be the youngest on the grid currently, but he's not stupid.

He saw how the three of them looked at each other. Charles definitely touched them both far more than what friends do.

Originally, he thought he was crazy for watching them. Yet he couldn't help but be intrigued. How they all interacted. How they just flowed together.

Now he sits on their couch. Max looks like he's guarding Charles and y/n. The Dutch has yet to sit down and is leaning against the wall. Charles is sitting across from him with the females head in this lap. His fingers running through her hair.

It's a terrible feeling. Like he's left out of whatever this is. Three of his best friends spend all their time together, and he's just here. Young and naïve Lando.

"Did you have a feeling this would happen, Mijn liefje?" Asks Max from his perch on the wall. She shakes her head no in response.

Lando had heard about her knack for predicting future outcomes. He'd heard rumors about magic and tarot cards, but she'd never said anything to him.

"Well, you're welcome to stay here in the extra bedroom, and I can't take you home in the morning."

"That sounds nice, thank you."

~

She woke up exhausted. She felt guilty for not having warned Max and Charles. Her mind to far gone that they were mad at her. She spent her night trying to get any glimpse of their future but didn't get anything useful.

She hid herself away in the master bathroom. The wet towel and the floor her new best friend.

She could smell breakfeast. Max is cooking for all of them. They learned quickly not to let Charles cook. Lest they all die.

She was in bed with them this morning. Only crawling out from their hold when she felt them stir.

Every question puts her further into the fog. Was she going to lose them? Are they upset with her? Is Lando okay with them? Would he tell people?

It's too much for her head.

She goes for another attempt. She knows she's overdoing it. The further she goes with less time in-between brings her closer to the edge of her body going numb.

Nausea creeps into her stomach, but she sees them. Further down the line. Happy and four.

Four? This could be shocking, and yet somehow, she already knew. Her mind just needs a but of confirmation that it's possible.

The nausea gets stronger. Her nose is bleeding heavily. She pushed it past the limit.

They won't mind, though.

~

Max is making breakfast and quietly humming to himself. Charles has his hands on his hips, the two of them swaying back and forth to the tune.

"Do you think I should go check on her?" Charles mumbles into his shoulder.

"She may want space after last night, she was taken off guard and might need to peocess." He explains, then turns his attention back to the pan.

"I'm worried, though. She was crying last night after Lando went to bed, and I don't think she slept."

Lando slides around the corner. His face lighting up at the smell of food. "Can I... can I have some?"

Max laughs at the Brit's excitment. "Of course. I made enough for all of us."

Lando sits himself on top on the counter. Watching the Dutch and Monegasque lean into each other. He takes notice that someone is missing. "Is y/n okay?"

Both boys sigh with heavy concern. "She had a rough night." Explains Charles. His body is fighting the urge to go get her. "I can't take it anymore, I'm going to check on her."

Charles leaves Max and Lando in the kitchen. His legs taking long strides back to the bedroom.

"So you guys all sleep together? Not like sexually- I guess - I mean at night to sleep."

Max smiles at the Brit. His curiosity was nothing he didn't expect. "Yeah, we pile into the same bed at night. All of us sleep better that way."

Lando hums. His palm rubs his face with anxiety. "Would you ever add a fourth?-'m asking for a friend..."

Max already knows. Somehow, someway, he already knows where this is going. "Depends. It took months of discussion before Charles joined us. But I'm sure if the right person came along, we'd be open to it." Max turns around to face Lando and shoots him a reassuring smile.

Lando's cheek tint pink, and Max knows exactly what he wants.

~

Charles leclerc is usually someone who panics. This time was no exception.

He'd seen plenty after his six months of being together with his partners. Particularly how the femal among them is prone to violent behaviors against herself. He's seen all of her powers now and how they affect her if she uses them too much. He's been there to help soothe her after night terrors while Max fetches her water.

He was glad she opened up to him about her past more. He knew the generally what had gone on but no details, nothing like what he knew now.

The prospect of her father coming back for her at some point is what drover her to the breaking point on most days.

Now, Charles is faced with a locked door and the sounds of thrashing from the other side. He'd tried picking the lock, something him and Max both learned to do after instances like this, but his hands are far too shaky to maneuver the pins.

So he does the only other logical thing and breaks the door down. Only enough that he can lean it somewhere and not let it fall on her, but it felt cool to kick it in.

Charles has seen a lot of things, but this is completely new. Her muscles are tensing at a rapid speed, and her eyes are rolled back into her head. Her breathing movements are unatrual.

"Max!"

It takes ten seconds, and he's there. His body and mind reacting to the situation. He's trying to hold her in his arms. Attempting to wake her up from whatever trance she's in.

Max hisses through his teeth when he touches her. Her skin in his searing his hands. Yet, he pushes through.

Charles feels helpless. "What can I do?"

"This has happened before. She must have forced a vision. She'll come out of it, we just need to make sure she dosen't die in the process."

The two boys are then lifting her body of the floor. Charles now carries her to the bed while Max runs around grabbing things. Mostly ice to cool her down. Charles rambles on to her about nothing and everything. Max said they should talk to her, giver her some to help bring her back.

Both of them forgot they left Lando in the kitchen. The Brit left to finish making breakfast in light of their emergency. Again, they are shocked to see his pale face watching the scene unfold before him.

"Can I help?" Is all he can manage.

"Do you want to trade places with me? I think the liquid benadryl might help."

Lando is taking over for Max tentatively. He takes the ice pack from the Dutch and places it on her forehead.

Lando can see the sweat and tears mixed with fresh blood. It's scary, and he's nervous. Why are they not taking her to a hospital?

Normally, she's the one calming him down. She always knows exactly what he needs to hear. He's not been in this position, and it scares him to see her like this.

He slides one hand down to her bicep. His fingers tap out the melody to her favorite song. A trick she used on him to bring him back to earth when he got in his head.

About halfway through, she's sucking in a breath, her body sitting straight upwards. Her eyes are no longer stuck to the inside of her head. She's still sweating like mad, and her body is twitching, but she's awake.

She's breathing heavily. Dry heaving and coughing into herself. Her hands are quick to find Charles and grasp at him, searching for the familiar comfort.

Lando watches her intently. Her sobs are painful. They sound broken, like whatever she's just been through was some sort of of torcher.

"Chéri, can I set you with Lando for a moment? I need to tell Max you're awake." Charles whispers gently. Lando takes note of how he's cradling her. His hands on the back of her head and under her legs to support her weight.

She barely nods her approval. Her body is slid close to Lando, who embraces her. Attempting to replicate what Charles was doing. He finds himself tapping the same melody on her knees.

"Was that you tapping? When I was asleep?" She chokes.

"Yeah, could you feel it."

She nods her head against his body. "You brought me back, thank you."

Lando lets his body relax into hers, knowing he at least did one thing right today.

~

Next ->

Tags: @styles-sunflower @purplephantomwolf @boiohboii @reblog-princess-blog @jjsprobablywrong @ipabloramos @jayda12 @faithm120601

(comment if you want to be added)

[purplephantomwolf]

Tethered Time

Logan Sargeant Soulmate AU

Chapter One

Synopsis: Everyone has a timer on their wrist. It counts down the time until you hear your soulmates voice for the first time. After you hear their voice, it changes to the time until you meet them for the first time.

Note: This is not an accurate portrayal of how the real people in this act. I do not know them personally, so I will not be portraying them accurately.

Warnings for this chapter: None

Next Chapter: Chapter Two

Masterlist

March 10, 2020

3 minutes

     I rub my wrist, glancing at the countdown on it. It states 3 minutes and counting down. The countdown is a timer until I hear the sound of my soulmate’s voice for the first time. I glance around my computer science classroom, eyebrows furrowing. I’ve heard everyone in this class speak before, so I don’t know where the voice could come from. I glance over at my best friend, Tucker. He’s staring intently at a video playing on his phone. “Hey, Tuck. What are you watching?” I ask, leaning over to see what he’s watching. The video finishes right as I look over. 

     “Oh! Prema just released a new video with their F3 drivers for this year,” Tucker says.

     “What’s F3?” I ask him, curious. 

     “It’s like the minor leagues for F1,” he explains. I know he can see the confusion on my face. “F1 is like a fancier NASCAR.”

     “Can I see the video?” I ask, scooting closer to him. 

     “Sure, why not?” He shrugs, going to replay it. I glance down at my wrist and it now says 1 minute. My eyes widen as I stare at Tucker’s phone. 

     “Tucker, look.” I say, showing him my wrist. 

     He looks shocked, “You think it could be one of the guys in the video?!” 

     “Possibly, now play it,” I urge him. Tucker hits play and I stare at the screen. “He’s quite cute,” I say, pointing to the guy in the middle of the three guys. 

     “Be consistent,” I hear the guy I was pointing to say. 

     “Ow!” I yelp quietly as my wrist burns when he says that. Tucker gasps and looks at me.

     “There’s no way Logan Sargeant is your soulmate!!” He exclaims excitedly. 

      “He is!” I grin. I look down at my wrist excitedly. The burn means that the time is changing to the time you have until you meet your soulmate in person. “No,” I whisper as the time appears. 

     “What? What is it?!” Tucker asks, grabbing my wrist. His face falls as he sees the time. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

     “It’s okay. At least there’s a time, so I know I’m going to meet him,” I groan, staring at my wrist as it counts down from three years, five months, and nineteen days. 

     “True, but going three and a half years knowing who your soulmate is and not being able to talk to them is painful,” Tucker points out. 

     “Not helping,” I glare at him and he gives me a shrug and a look that says sorry. I groan and rest my head on my desk. 

     “Lilah, Tucker. Are you two being productive or just chitchatting?” Our teacher asks, appearing behind us. 

     “We’re being productive! I finished the assignment already,” I say, showing him the assignment. He raises his eyebrows. 

     “Mr. Collins, we’re being extremely productive, Lilah figured out who her soulmate is!” Tucker exclaims. Mr. Collins raises his eyebrows, looking around. 

     “Oh yeah? How exactly did you find her soulmate? It’s the middle of the school day,” he points out. 

     “We were watching a YouTube video and she heard his voice!” Tucker says, excitedly. I groan, covering my face. 

     “Tucker, shut up,” I say through my teeth. 

     “And who is her soulmate then?” Troy, one of our classmates, says, leaning over towards us. 

     “Logan Sargeant! A Formula 3 driver!” Tucker says, before I can stop him. 

     “Yeah, right. There’s no way,” a second classmate, Alyson, says, “There’s no way her soulmate is someone that talented.” She’s never liked me, so I’m not surprised by her response. I roll my eyes.

     “It’s true,” Tucker insists. 

     “Tucker, stop it. It’s fine if they don’t believe us,” I shrug, “I’d also rather not shout it from the rooftops who he is.” 

     “Fine,” Tucker mumbles, glaring at Alyson. 

     “You’re just being delusional,” Alyson mumbles. Tucker sticks his tongue out at her like a child. I smack his arm, rolling my eyes. 

     “So childish,” I mumble to him. 

     “Yeah, but you love it,” he whispers back. 

     “Alright children,” Mr. Collins says, looking between us, “Back to work.” I bow my head and get back to reading the book I have. Tucker goes back to messing around on his phone. 

     “Psst, Lilah. I know you’re lying about who your soulmate is. I don’t get why you’re doing it for attention,” Alyson whispers, leaning over to me. I just roll my eyes and ignore her. She huffs when I don’t give her the reaction she wants. The bell rings then, signaling it’s spring break. 

     “Have a good spring break,” Mr. Collins yells to us as we rush out the door.

************************************************************************

     “Hi, honey. How was school?” My mom greets me as I walk in the front door. 

     “Fine,” I shrug, dropping my bag onto the floor by the stairs. My mom’s eyebrows knit in concern. 

     “Did something happen? You seem down,” she says, looking concerned. 

    “I found out who my soulmate is,” I shrug. Her jaw drops in excitement.

    “That’s awesome!” She exclaims, “Wait, I thought you’d be excited to know.” 

    “I am, I am. But the sad thing is it’s three and a half years until I meet him,” I say, showing her my wrist.

     “Oh honey, I’m so sorry,” she sighs, looking at me with pity, “You said you know who it is though?” She looks confused. 

     “Yeah, but he’s kind of famous. His name is Logan Sargeant and he’s a Formula 3 driver,” I explain. 

     “A what?” My mom looks even more confused.

     “A race car driver. F3 is like the minor leagues for F1, which is a fancier NASCAR, is what Tucker said,” I explain. My mom nods, still looking lost. I shrug my shoulders, “I don’t quite know what it is either. But I know I’ll be doing research on it.” My mom nods and sets a snack down on the table for me. I sit down and grab my laptop to start the research on Logan and Formula 1. 

************************************************************************

     “Dad, do you know what Formula 1 is?” I ask, as we sit down for dinner. 

     “Formula 1 racing?” He asks. 

     I nod, “Yeah.” He nods his head, looking confused. “Okay, because my soulmate is a Formula 3 driver,” I casually say, putting some food on my plate. 

     His jaw drops, “You’re kidding?” I shake my head, smiling. “When do you guys meet then?!” He asks, excitedly. 

     I sigh, “Three and a half years.” 

     “That sucks, I’m sorry,” he frowns. 

    “It is what it is,” I shrug. 

     Once we finish dinner, I go back to doing research on Formula 1. I’ve been enjoying learning about the sport. “I need to watch some races later,” I mumble. I scroll through the Wikipedia page on Formula 1. It looks so exhilarating. Luckily I have the next week to watch old races to better learn the sport. I sit on the couch, pulling up the first race of the 2019 F3 season. “Let’s do this,” I smile.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist:

[hoppingonjim]

learning love again (i) - holland march

chapter one. summary: i really wanted to make a little fic about holland meeting his old love again and again throughout the course of his life. so here we go! cw: mentions of losing virginity, talk of america/political views of war, brief mentions of the vietnam war

she was eighteen when they met. and nineteen when the military swept him away. it was for america and back then she could understand, there was no higher pleasure for a man than dying with stars and stripes adorning his heart. there was no greater shame than hiding behind a borderline. 

a street lamp was the first time his eyes soaked her up. limbs crossed over, back against a void of color. with the eyes of bardot and the body of cardinale he swore he fell in love. did her mind possess curie? a streep lamp stalked above him as he inquired her for her name.

“mary.”

“that's my mom's name. that was also jesus' mom's name.”

“that's nice.”

the woman only gave a smile. eyes glanced upwards to the canopy that flickered above, “what's your name?” the boy would only watch for a brief second, fingering his pocket for a pack and lighter.

“holland,” soon a companion of a light screamed between them, making messy love to the stick suddenly dangling below his cupids bow, “my mom liked the country holland. so. now i'm named holland.”

“ah.” the closeness grew far. the repellence of smoke sniggering in her nostrils. until they flared, “i don't like people who smoke.”

in a matter of seconds the cigarette found the soles of his boot, “that better for you?”

a smile dressed itself in the light swirling above, “yes.” when her wrist grew itchy of her curfew she suddenly kept the distance between the two close, “i'll catch you later, okay holland?”

she was eighteen when he dressed her in a luxury menu. treated her eyes to the cul-de-sac of spaghetti. the vines and checkered table cloths that draped over glossed wood. an ambiance of gold and the adriatic.

“what's the cheapest thing on the menu?”

“you're not getting the cheapest thing.”

a crinkle popped from the furrowing of her eyebrows, quizzically she watched him, “what do you mean? it's not cheap here. i don't want to blow money..”

that sentence would see its hand once holland gave her a swooshed hand motion, “you're yapping. i'm paying. buy what you want.”

she was eighteen when he alleviated a confession with a staggering stutter.

“i t-think i l-love you.”

tangled limbs resting in limp sheets. joints deep in discombobulated slumber while the sun beckoned for a crowing rooster. navy coating her clothed back. navy encapsulating his matching boxers.

“think or you do?” her voice bore no volume. a mingling whisper.

“i do.”

“i do too.”

she was eighteen when he held a virgin in his arms, nineteen when his sheets were the last to feel virginity. nineteen and lonesome, she wore the title of his only companion. in those navy sheets roses fell scattered and trampled. his parents enjoyed their slumber next door as they made love, innocently. giving their minds over to passion and their bodies to the palm of the other. with moans waltzing with low groans, the gentle sun remained hushed. the sudden man snapped his hips, celestial bodies tuned into comic ballads. beethoven's symphony ringing out with every muffled crack that leaped from her voice. breathless and panting.

"holland, how are you not worried about- holland, oh my god you're inside of me- oh my god your dick is- oh-"

"doesn't it feel wonderous?"

the suns kiss on the wavering weeds outside stood a void from inside the window pane. and when she gave herself to him, and he found a climax, their bodies fell into one. the velvet curtain closing as the scent of diminished chastity grew thick. a question echoed about his first time and in came a lie. vulnerability husky under the guise. and while they tip toed under their new title to the washing machine he swore to himself his lips would never behold the truth. his virginity was washed up on those sheets too.

she was nineteen when home seemed like a good option. here was the time for picnic play of war to unveil a realistic shoulder. for little boys to mold into their mossed figurines. under a street lamp she found squalor plucked on her knees. the collection of rain fall staining a once stunning plaid hem. the velvet curtain withdrawing to the sight of her hands gripping onto the bulk of his jean clad thigh.

“stay, please-america will never know. just stay, stay?”

the girl he had assisted into transcending womanhood mirrored a child once more. breaking over. porcelain lips shattering with every deafening word. his own were lost on the train he was sure he would be taking. a mind heavy on decision and a heart torn with two sacrifices.

“i love my country mary, right now america needs to be my love.”

“will america remember if you die though? i will! i'll remember if you die! i'll remember your name holland, and your eyes.. america will call you lifeless and put you in a bin of meaningless men. just stay with me.. please.”

“get off the sidewalk mary.” a tone imitating the wading winds that croaked the downfall.

“you aren't being made to.”

“i'm staying with america, mary.”

“but i love-”

“go home mary.”

she was nineteen when she was thrown the pitiful ending with her knees soaking up abandoned down pours. the array of dusted water pooling around her once pure white dress. on the sidewalk she surrendered to fate with rain soaking her flag.

he was twenty one when he took a train. when he casted aside her letters that piled on his front stoop. distractions were something he couldn't tear himself from. on the train he sat with empty pads beside him, the others crammed ahead. their eyes gaunt at the faces of their weeping future widows. swallowing his affection, his eyes found his creased palms. still he felt blessed to feel her touch, to dance with streams of her stranded tresses. to guide her into the land of absolute pleasure he could grant. with a grumbling stomach he continued to feel full of home made mac and cheese. the only dinner she could properly serve. in his lips he could taste the entire year he knew her for. from when he questioned her identity to when he left her questioning his heart.

she was twenty one when she spotted a doppelgänger of the man she wasted pens on. where she discarded stamps.

“is that, holland?”

her sister, tall and eclectic, wondered aloud. her neck claimed by a dangling ring gifted by the man that had rang their doorbell numerous times in one week. all mary could remember about the man was that he was taller, muscular, his name was either jackson or jake- mary was unable to remember.

with a tense throat she glanced at the man who had clutched her butterfly heart in the creased palm of his hand before he'd drop the butterfly into a discarded moth. the man who ushered her thorned moans into his ears, the boy who made earnest love to her on navy sheets.

“no.. i don't- no..” a stammer pushed through. the sight of a scraggly man holding the mature hand of a golden decorated lady.

mary glanced down at her very own strands of hair. plain brown.

she was twenty one when she realized it indeed was the real man. the con artist bishop.

[roanofarcc]

PROJECT SUNSHINE CHAPTER NINETEEN → THE P.I.

summary: steve harrington x oc

when another product of Hawkins National Laboratory escaped a long-survived nightmare alongside her sister, she crashed into one unsuspecting teenage boy and dragged him deeper into the dark mysteries that made up their hometown.

word count. 2.8k || masterlist

warnings: cannon typical violence, child abuse, horror, gore, and depictions of mental illness. parts of this story were written pre-season 4 release. cannon divergence.

previous chapter ← → next chapter

The Green Thumb was Mary-Jane Torres’s third pride and joy. Sunshine was the first, then Blue - their dog. 

The Green Thumb was a quaint flower shop within walking distance from their house, positioned in what Mary-Jane considered the perfect spot in downtown Hawkins. It was practically overflowing with beautiful plants that Sunshine’s mother was teaching her how to take care of. The two spent most of their mornings and afternoons at the shop while the other kids around town were at school. 

“Are you excited for Halloween?” Mary-Jane asked from behind the front counter, working on a special bouquet. Sunshine hummed in response as she watered. “After we close today, maybe we could go shopping for a costume for your party?”

It turned out to be pretty easy for Sunshine to convince her parents to let her attend the high school Halloween party with Steve and Nancy. They were happy she was doing normal teenage things, but Sunshine was still on the fence about going. 

It wasn’t so much about the safety aspect of going, nothing Upside Down or Lab related had happened for almost a full year. Rather, it was the idea of spending a whole night surrounded by other teenagers who she didn’t know, but who believed they knew her. 

Sunshine was the furthest thing from a “normal” teen, and it was hard for her to blend in when everyone in Hawkins knew that she had something to hide. One slip up and she’d become the talk of the town all over again. She feared they’d see right through her. 

“Honey, you’re drowning the mums,” Mary-Jane said. Water overflowed from the flowerpot Sunshine had been watering and it puddled at her feet. 

“Sorry,” she muttered before setting down the watering can. 

Mary-Jane blocked her path to the backroom and peered at her daughter with concern swimming in her dark eyes. “Is everything okay?” 

The look her mother gave her caused guilt to sink like a stone in Sunshine’s stomach. The weight of actively lying to her mother and father was heavy on her heart. 

The story of Danielle Torres was muddled and skewed to make it easier to believe for her parents and the rest of Hawkins. Everyone believed that she was kidnapped at the age of six, which was true. Who took her remained a mystery, one that people were very curious about but were too scared to ask. All anyone knew was that her kidnapper, after ten whole years, let their guard down enough for her to escape and find her way back home, and that was that. 

Most people bought the story, but there were holes poked in it that didn’t add up and a few people started to notice. 

Lying to the people of Hawkins didn’t bother Sunshine, but lying to her parents did. She knew that they wanted to know the full story because they thought that if they understood what she’d been through, they could help her heal and move on from it. Sunshine knew that wasn’t true, though. There was a little, nagging voice in the back of her head that reminded her that if her parents knew the full truth, they’d no longer see her as their little girl, but as something much worse. 

“Yeah, sorry. I’m okay,” Sunshine said with a tight-lipped smile. 

Mary-Jane didn’t seem to buy it, but she didn’t press any further. Instead, she said, “Why don’t you take a break and grab some fresh air? I’ll finish watering and close early for the day. We’ll get a head start on shopping for a costume for Halloween, okay?”

Sunshine nodded and weaved through the maze of vines and flowers until she stepped outside. There was a bench not far from the shop that she often made herself comfortable at when she needed a moment to clear her head. 

All of her time cooped up inside the Lab made her more enchanted by the outdoors. Since she escaped, she’d spent more time outside than indoors. There was something about the endless expanse of the sky that hung over her head and the way the cool air felt against her skin that brought peace to her. When the sunlight warmed her limbs and coated everything in gentle light, she felt alive.

There were a couple of people out and about the downtown area. Sunshine watched them with one hand absentmindedly playing with the sun pendant on the necklace that she never took off. 

A small smile formed on her lips when she spotted Will Byers’s mother, Joyce, hand in hand with her new boyfriend, Bob Newby, as they enjoyed their daily lunchtime stroll around the block. 

Sunshine was glad she didn’t have to lie to everyone in her life. Her band of middle schoolers, the trio of monster hunters, Hopper, and Joyce were the only souls in Hawkins who knew the truth. When she was with them, she felt less alienated, and the world felt a little less suffocating. 

She’d never had friends before, not in the traditional sense; the children of Hawkins Lab were her family and there was never a sense of normalcy behind the white walls, there was only survival. Within her new, tight-knit group, Sunshine had real friends who cared for her almost as much as she cared for them. It was nice and it was normal; that was all she had ever wanted. 

Despite the lack of anything Upside Down or Lab related, Hawkins as a whole was far from normal. 

“Nice weather we’re having,” a voice said, joining her on the lone bench. 

Sunshine let out a sigh and kept her eyes focused on the street in front of her. “I thought Hopper told you to leave my family and me alone?” 

The man on the opposite side of the bench scoffed like she had offended him. “I don’t work for him,” he said. “Actually, I don’t work for anyone.”

With a roll of her eyes, a gesture she picked up from Mike and his endless amount of pre-teen angst, Sunshine glanced to the side and met the scruffy-looking man with dark hair and a receding hairline. He didn’t look like the professional he claimed he was. Hopper called him a con man.

“Mr. Bauman, I already told you everything I know,” She said, lying right through her teeth. “I don’t know what else you want.”

Murray Bauman, an annoyingly persistent man, narrowed his gaze at her just slightly. “You and I both know that’s not true. All I want is to help the Holland family find their missing daughter.”

It took everything inside Sunshine not to grimace at his words. 

Barbara’s parents still help out hope that their daughter was alive and out there somewhere because, as Nancy had said, Barb wasn’t the kind of kid who would run away. No matter how the people at Lab tried to spin in, those who knew Barbara knew that. 

Everything Sunshine had learned about Barb was secondhand from Nancy before it became too painful for the girl to speak about and then the two of them would curl up on the couch of the Wheeler or Torres household and watch whatever cheesy movie Nancy plucked from her basement.

While Sunshine listened to Nancy about Barb, Nancy listen to Sunshine talk about Eleven. They both lost someone they loved to a monster, and it was impossibly difficult to cope with that, but at least they weren’t alone; at least they understood each other. 

“I already told you, I didn’t know Barbara,” Sunshine replied. Maybe she only knew her second hand, but she was one of the last people to talk to her before she died, and for some reason, she felt like the private investigator beside her knew that.

Murray hummed in response and folded his hands on his lap while he stared out into the street too. 

“It’s funny to me how no one in this town wants to talk or wants to tell the truth,” he said. “And you know what else? No one wants to listen either. It’s almost like…like you’re all in one big secret. But that’s too far-fetched, right?” 

Sunshine shrugged and tried to keep her cool by curling her fingers into the fabric of her oversized sweater. “I don’t know,” she said simply. “I haven’t been here long. I don’t know much.” 

She felt terrible. 

She felt terrible for the Hollands, for Nancy, for everyone who became unwillingly involved. All of their hands were tied with too many secrets they had to hide. If it had been up to Sunshine, if she was a little stronger and braver, she’d tell everyone what happened inside the Lab and who was responsible for it. 

However, as Hopper had said, the truth of the Upside Down and the Lab were not pills people would swallow. So, it would forever remain a secret. 

“Do you want to know what I think?” Murray didn’t wait for Sunshine to answer. “I think something is going on here. And I plan on figuring it out.” 

He stood up from the bench, but paused for a moment, waiting for Sunshine to spill her guts. 

She wouldn’t. Instead, she shook her head and met his eye narrowly. “I don’t think you will, Mr. Bauman.” 

A challenging look flickered in his gaze, but he paired it with an impressed smile. “You should know how much I hate children. You all are extraordinarily irritating, but you, are obnoxiously cryptic. All of your answers to my questions make it painfully obvious that you’re hiding something. So, I suggest you either tell the truth or get better at lying.” 

Sunshine’s golden gaze reflected the sunlight that glittered high in the October sky as she offered the man a short nod. “Okay,” she said. “Have a good day, Mr. Bauman.” 

With one final scoff, Murray took off down the sidewalk, leaving Sunshine alone on the bench once more. She rolled her tense shoulders back and made sure he was out of sight before she buried her head in her hands. 

Everyone was so determined to figure out the truth, but none of them had the slightest clue of the nightmares that would follow it.

Later that evening, after shopping with her mother to find the perfect Halloween costume, the Torres family gathered around the dining room table for a dinner complete with greasy pizza and breadsticks. 

Sunshine’s father played his old records quietly from the player in the living room, and Blue waited patiently at Sunshine’s feet awaiting pieces of pepperoni.

“What costume did you pick out? Did you go with my Princess Leia idea?” Walter asked. 

Sunshine shook her head. “I’m going as Wonder Woman.” 

Mary-Jane smiled brightly. “I told her we’ll have to dig up all my old comic books from the attic. I think you’d love ‘em.” 

Mary-Jane had talked Sunshine’s ear off about the superhero when they spotted the costume at the store. 

The gaggle of middle schoolers Sunshine knew often talked about their comic book collection, so she was somewhat familiar with what that was. What she didn’t know was that there were comic books with girls on the covers, not just boys in spandex suits. 

Apparently, Mary-Jane was once an avid comic book collector in her time, but her favorite hero was Wonder Woman. She had boxes upstairs in the attic filled with her old collection. Mary-Jane excitedly offered to help Sunshine with her hair and makeup too, to make her look like the perfect replica of the superhero. 

In the short span of their shopping trip, and a little more insight into her mother’s teenage years, Sunshine grew more excited about the party. She knew that with Steve and Nancy by her side, the night had the potential to be as fun as high school parties looked in the movies. Maybe a night as a normal teen would help her clear her head as well. 

The family lapsed into their usual small talk about their day, while Sunshine fixed her gaze on the empty seat at the table. 

There were four chairs at their dining room table, despite them being a family of three, but Sunshine’s parents often had company over. The extra seat was handy, but it looked lonely come dinner time with just the three of them. Sunshine found herself imagining her sister there to fill the empty seat.

As time pressed on, the grief of Eleven’s loss lessened just s little inside Sunshine’s heart, but there wasn’t a day that passed that she didn’t think of her little sister. Sometimes it felt as if Eleven was still there. When she was alone in her room, Sunshine felt something crawl down her spine and a strange feeling settled in the air like she wasn’t alone in that moment.

Sunshine didn’t know what that meant, but she did know that Eleven deserved to be in a warm home like hers, with people who loved her. She deserved a chance at a normal life, but it was stolen from her, unfairly. 

It was hard for her to talk about Eleven; she couldn’t bring her sister up to her parents and she felt guilty mentioning her around the party. Even though they hadn’t known her long, the kids all missed Eleven too, especially Mike who took her death the hardest. They all needed to heal and move on with their lives, and Sunshine figured she wouldn’t be helping if she brought up such a sensitive topic. 

Sometimes she’d talk about Eleven to Steve or Nancy, but they too were reeling with the events of last year; it didn’t feel right to burden them with her troubles too.

For the most part, Sunshine kept her grief and ghosts to herself. They remained locked up inside her brain that brimmed with too many secrets. Maybe one day she’d spill them, or maybe they’d follow her into the grave.

“Sweetheart?” Mary-Jane’s voice pulled Sunshine’s gaze away from the empty chair. “Are you sure you want to go to the party tomorrow? You don’t have to if that’s what has got you all worried. Your friends will understand.”

She wasn’t worried about the party, or rather, it wasn’t on her main list of worries. 

“No, I want to go,” she insisted. 

No matter how difficult it was, Sunshine wanted, so badly, to be a normal kid - whatever that meant. She wanted to do normal things like Steve and Nancy did like go to parties and talk to people her age. She didn’t want to remain a stranger to the outside world for the rest of her life.

Sunshine pushed her half-eaten plate of pizza away from her and stood up from the table. “I’m just tired. I gonna lie down.” 

Before her parents had a chance to respond, she disappeared from the dining room and into her bedroom. 

Once the door was closed behind her, a heavy sigh fell from her parted lips as she fell into her unmade bed. 

Warm blankets, with flower patterns, engulfed her body. Sunshine rested her head on a heap of pillows and squeezed her eyes closed tight enough to make little stars appear in the inky black of her vision. The stars couldn’t cover up the images of her sister in her mind, or the flashing light and bloodied teeth of a monster. They always came back to her when she was alone to remind Sunshine of what she’d never be able to outrun.

She couldn’t handle the violent images that danced around her mind and peeled her eyes back open. A nap would ruin her night’s sleep anyway, she thought, and there was no doubt she’d be met with nightmares the second her body was lulled to sleep. 

Instead, she lifted her arm above her and rolled down the sleeve of her sweater, revealing her tattoo in the warm lamplight of her bedroom. 

The numbers were healed over with old and new scars from her bad habit of scratching the tattoo when she was upset or stressed. She felt like the tattoo defined her, but not in all bad ways. Her tattoo was the one thing all of the children of Hawkins Lab shared. None of them had been related by blood, aside from the twins, but the tattoos were thicker than blood; it used to be their tether to one another. 

Sunshine rubbed her thumb over the ink before she let her arm fall onto her chest. Upon her ceiling, the first and last thing she saw every day, was press on stars that glowed in the dark. 

At first, she feared the stars would remind her too much of her room back inside the Lab, but she found it nearly impossible to sleep without them. The stars were Ivy’s idea, long ago, and they served as a reminder of the dark-eyed girl who Sunshine liked to believe still watched over her. 

She didn’t want to forget that, Ivy, or the other kids. She didn’t want to scrub her mind completely of the Lab. After all, she was the last one - who she was aware of - left alive. If she forgot, who would remember all of the children who never made it out? 

She wouldn’t let them be only ghosts in her mind; she just needed to become less scared to talk about them.

Tag List (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @sattlersquarry , @lovefrom-theother-side

[wearingaberetinparis]

19/45 - Love Is A Lie - A Jily Micro-Oops

Read Chapter 19 of Love Is A Lie (And Other Sh*t My Friends Say To Help Me Get By) HERE!

Nineteen days down, twenty-six days to go!

[bluejaysandblackbats]

into the silent land

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: Willis Todd is arrested before he can cheat Two-Face and be murdered in this AU. He regains custody of his twelve-year-old son, Jason, and they rebuild their relationship. Can Willis make up for his mistakes, or is he doomed to repeat history?

(The title comes from a line in the poem, Remember, by Christina Rossetti).

Chapters: 5/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Willis Todd, Original Character(s), Faye "Ma" Gunn

Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergent AU, Father-Son Relationship, Good Parent Willis Todd, Willis Todd Redemption, Mentioned Sheila Haywood

Chapter Five: Old Ghosts

After Willis dropped Jason off, he looked in Jason’s room for a phone number. He found it in a little address book in Jason’s drawer. He sat by the phone, frowning as he dialed. The phone rang twice and Willis moved to hang up before receiving an answer. “Peter Todd, speaking,” Pete answered, “Hello?”

Willis cleared his throat. “Dad… Hi—. Hi, Dad,” Willis stammered.

“Billy? Hey, fella. How are you? How’s your son?” Pete questioned. 

“Jason’s great. He um—. He’s got an open house at school on Friday,” Willis answered. 

“That sounds like a good time,” Pete replied, “And how are you, Billy?” 

“I promised I’d write a letter to Jason’s mother,” Willis replied. 

“You want me to come over?” Pete asked. 

Willis’ lips twitched into a frown. “Yeah… I just—. I’m a grown man and I can’t—. Jason doesn’t know. Catherine used to sign everything. How can I tell him I can barely write my name without losing my patience? He’s such a smart kid, and I know he gets it from his mother. I just—.” 

“Billy. It’s alright. I’ll write the letter, but you should explain to Jason that you have a learning disability. You’ve struggled with this your whole life, Kiddo. It doesn’t have to be a secret. You’ve done pretty good for yourself. You got your diploma. You went to a trade school—.” 

“I did, but I—. I want Jason to think he’s got a chance for something better. I don’t want him getting discouraged because of my sh—. My stuff. I’ve got brothers that are mob lawyers and stock brokers and real estate—.”

“They’re crooks without conscience. I know they’re my sons, but they’re hopeless causes. Douglas hasn’t dated a girl over nineteen since he was nineteen. I’m not entirely sure Alan isn’t a serial killer… And the last time I saw Mark—. 

“Billy, you’re the only one I’ve got any hope in. You’re the only son I have that has a conscience. You made your fair share of bad choices, but you feel bad about it. Doesn’t that count for anything?” Pete replied. Willis sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“How’re your daughters?” Willis questioned. 

“I talked to Melissa the other day. I told her I saw you,” Pete answered, “She still wants to see you… She’s worried about you.”

“And let me guess… Christine’s still telling people I’m dead,” Willis scoffed.

“She was in high school, Billy,” Pete defended.

“Yeah… Showing off for the rich kids at her cushy private school while I was fifteen, freezing to death on the streets. I asked her for five dollars to get something to eat. She acted like she didn’t know me. A few years later, I married a doctor, and she’s calling me, talking about making amends,” Willis chuckled. It stung. 

“Willis, you never told me you were homeless back then. Why didn’t you—?”

“Your new wife didn’t want me around, remember?” Willis sighed. 

“Billy, I had no idea you were homeless. You think I’d turn you away if you needed me?” Pete questioned. Willis froze. “Billy?” 

Willis gave Pete his address. “Maybe we should talk, Dad,” Willis replied, “I’ll see you in a little while.” 

“I’ll see you in a minute,” Pete replied. 

*

Pete knocked on the door, and Willis answered. “Dad, can we write the letter before we talk? I just—. I wanna get it over with before I pick Jason up… You can stay as long as you want after that,” Willis promised. Pete nodded. 

He sat at the kitchen counter with Willis’ clipboard and paper while Willis cooked dinner. “Okay. Start whenever you’re ready,” Pete answered.

“Dear Sheila… I know it’s been a while since I sent you a letter. Jason’s fine. He’s the spitting image of you, and I see it more and more every day. I told him about you recently and now he thinks about you all the time. He asks me all sorts of questions. He wants to know you. Do you think you could write a letter and address it to him? It’d make him feel like a real big man to get mail. He’s everything you imagined he’d be. Jason’s smart, and he’s forgiving to a fault. He forgave me for keeping you a secret. 

“I hope you answer this letter telling him you still care. I know you love Jason more than you hate me. Hell, I’ll even let you see him. If you don’t know what to say, tell him about all the stories you read to him when you were pregnant. Tell him about how you used to carry him in your jacket when the heater broke in our apartment. Tell him that you think about him because I know you do. For your son and mine, Willis,” Willis stated. Pete wrote as fast as Willis spoke. He was used to writing dictated notes. Pete turned away with tears in his eyes. 

“Billy—.”

“It’s for Jason. I have to get her to write him a letter. He’s a good boy. He doesn’t ask for anything. He asked me to talk to her. I gotta give him that at least,” Willis interrupted, “I’ve been trying to get the words together since I promised Jason—. It’s not about me anymore. It’s about him. I want you in his life, I want him to know who his mother is, I want him to have everything he needs.”

“Billy… Can we talk about what Doreen said to you?” Pete asked. 

“Dad, I showed up at your house after I went to Christine for cash. She turned me away, and I stopped by to talk to you. Doreen said I looked high. I swore I wasn’t. I was sick, and I had a little liquor to take the bite off of the cold. I told her that. She said you told her to turn me away if I ever showed my face,” Willis elucidated. Pete’s top lip twitched into a snarl. Willis had only ever seen that look on his father’s face once. 

“I would never—. She had no right to turn you away. If something happened to you as a—. Billy, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know,” Pete apologized. Willis scratched his head.

“I love you, Dad. Even if you did turn me away, I still loved you. I’m trying to be what you were to me to my kid. If I hated you, I wouldn’t try so hard to be like you,” Willis reassured him. Pete sped around the counter and pulled Willis into a hug. Willis froze, stiffening in his father’s embrace as he succumbed to tears. Willis was a little boy again for that moment. He hugged his father back, whimpering as Pete rubbed his back. 

“I wish I could’ve done more for you, Billy. God, I’m so sorry. I know it doesn’t change what happened to you, but I wish I could try again. I’d be better. I’d find a way to get you away from her. I’d give you the world if I had one more chance to get things right,” Pete cried. Willis sniffed and pulled away. 

“You were the best dad you could’ve been given the situation we were in. I was there when Mom pulled a gun on you. I was there when she told you no one’d believe you. I saw it… You didn’t have a choice… And I understood that. I hated it, but I understood,” Willis confessed. He’d never admitted that to his father before. “It wasn’t your fault….” Willis looked at the tile floor of the kitchen, trying not to make eye contact as the memories of his mother flooded to the surface. He hadn’t spoken about it in therapy. He spent most of that time talking about his anger issues and wanting to be a better father. There were far too many things to unpack about his time living with his mother and brothers. Only one other person knew for sure what happened before he left. They were the only living soul he could bear to tell.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Beyond the Blood Tie - Chapter Twenty Nine.

Previous Chapters - One  Two, Part One Part Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine  Ten  Eleven  Twelve  Thirteen  Fourteen  Fifteen  Sixteen  Seventeen  Eighteen  Nineteen  Twenty  Twenty One  Twenty Two  Twenty Three  Twenty Four  Twenty Five  Twenty Six  Twenty Seven  Twenty Eight

Words - 5,427

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added/removed

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI!

Angel's POV

"The soothing, relaxing, vibrating girlfriend," I hum softly to Edie, while she lies naked on top of me, shaking yet boiling hot. Flu is a fucker, and right now it's fucking her big time.

"Don't, don't make me laugh or I'll start coughing again!" she exclaims, before doing just that, hacking her lungs up. I reach over to the nightstand and pick up her bottle of cough syrup, which she takes a mouthful of before I stretch to return it there and continue idly stoking her nakedness. Lying against me like this is very soothing for her since she's almost permanently boiling hot, and with my body temperature being that of a stone, I work well in reducing her raging fever. She's been sick for three days now, and when I dropped the note in to Tyrell Cleaves at the CD he wasn't impressed, even questioning Charles and his worth as a doctor.

I stayed around for the phone call he made to Charles, and stood there laughing quietly when my 'father' blasted him with a barrage of accolades and then asked him if he'd like a diagnosis for his ignorance, because he'd be happy to give him one. 'The letters after my name actually mean something, you know, you dull-witted oaf!' Charles raged at him before hanging up. I was in hysterics as soon as I got outside of the building. Edie laughed too when I'd arrived home later that night and told her.

"You know, I actually wanted to book a little time off work so I could spend some time with you, but this wasn't exactly what I had planned, being so sick I can hardly fucking move," she complains, her shudders still not stopping.

"In turn, I hate seeing you like this, knowing there ain't much I can do about it," I lament, stroking her damp hair and kissing her head. She's all clammy with sweat right now.

"Isn't much you can do? Angel, you've been looking after me for the last three days, putting me first when you can around having to go to work and rest in the day. There isn't a single other thing you could be doing for me that you aren't already. Hell, you're even foregoing a full day's rest to make sure I'm okay," she tells me, moving to kiss my cheek and then groaning in pain. Even though it was over one hundred and thirty years ago, I still remember only too well how crippling having the flu is. Edie lamented that she felt like she'd been beaten all over with hammers, she ached so much, which is just how I felt when I was bedridden by it for ten days as a human.

"I suppose you're right. I forget how wonderful I am sometimes."  

“Oh, such modesty.” Her joke makes me laugh quietly, reaching for the cool wash cloth and dabbing her forehead with it again. Lying here, being attentive and talking to her is about all I can do at the moment, since she's too sick for me to take her out anywhere or enjoy rolling her around the bed in the name of wild sex. I understand that she feels rotten, so I'm not going to pester her for it, although I’m horny as fuck. It’s here that I suddenly have an idea after looking at my watch and seeing I have to be at work in an hour from now. I'll go in today, but after tonight I'm cancelling my appointments for the next week, so I get to spend more time with Edie since she isn't working at the moment either.

I have all eternity to tattoo people and whatever other careers I might go into in my immortal time here, but I don't have all eternity with Edie, sadly. I want to enjoy her as much as I can, so take great pleasure in telling her of my plans upon my arrival home six hours later, finding her lying in the bath fully submerged. I just stand in the doorway and look at her for a few moments as she lies with her head under the water, before she obviously feels me right there and emerges to give me a big smile. No other human has ever captured my interest or my heart as much as Miss Bailey here.

"Are you hovering for a reason?" she asks, before puckering her lips at me. I go over to her and plant a kiss on them before beginning to undress.

"Just thinking how lovely you are while deciding to interrupt your bath or not," I tell her.

"I see you've made up your mind there then," she nods, as I remove the last of my clothes and slide into the hot water behind her.

"I have, and I also made up my mind on something else, too. I've cancelled all of my appointments for the next week so I can spend all the time I want to with you. I have all eternity to work, I don't have all eternity with you.” Wrapping her in my arms, I kiss her head, noting that she feels a little cooler now, fever wise.  

"You didn't have to do that, I'm not much company anyway at the moment, and also won't it be bad for business, you just clearing your schedule for the next week? Your clients will be so disappointed," she states, turning to look at me with a little concern.

"They've all been rescheduled for later times over the next month, so no one is going to be disappointed. Besides, you should know by now that you're the only human I give a shit about," I assure her, watching her smile before she rests her head back against my shoulder. Tonight is the start of the nights to follow where Edie and I lie together, be it in the bathtub, the bed, or downstairs in the back yard when she's feeling too hot, and talk about anything and everything.

"I met Eric when Ursula visited a vampire who used to live in his former nest. I thought he was the weirdest vamp I'd encountered, but it was that difference in him that I ended up liking. I mean there's no doubt about the fact he's a vampire, but he has good human attributes too that some vampires lose forever. He's savage when he's pissed off or in combat though. One of our favourite things to do shortly after we met him was to go and kill the reanimated together. I remember one time just for fun, me, him and EZ went into the middle of Vegas with machine guns and deliberately stood there in the street firing off round after round into the air to bring out the dead, and then tore them all apart," I explain in reminiscence as we sit on the large and ornate wrought iron bench in the back yard a few more days into her sickness. She wanted to know more about how it was back when the disaster had struck.

"How did you kill them if you couldn't drain them?" she questions with interest, pulling the blanket she's wrapped in around herself a little tighter. She says she feels cold, yet her skin is like a furnace. At least she's stopped throwing up for the time, six days in now.

"We'd tear their heads off, or just punch them straight through the skull. That was the only way to kill them, a direct blow to the head. We used to make their heads explode everywhere, it was fun. Ursula came with us once and recorded it on a video camera. She said it was like her version of a normal mother filming her kids' graduation. I've no idea where the tape is now, I even looked for it earlier. What I did find, though, are my Godfather trilogy DVD’s. I remember you said you’d only seen the first one.” Immediately, her eyes light up.  

"Ooooh, yes! But not until later, as right now I’m really enjoying out conversation, now that I finally feel I can concentrate better.” She's been a little out of it with the flu medicine she's been taking recently, but after Charles read the labels on the bottles and packets, he promptly put them in the bin. He told her all she needed was ibuprofen to lower her temperature and ease her physical discomfort, and tea tree oil to help with her sinus trouble, which would also help cleanse her of germs. He bought both for her himself, and I'll never forget the lecture I got when he arrived back. 'I don't know what you bought all of that highly caffeinated and sugar laden crap for! I bloody told you not to, quite specifically, too! All this modern witchcraft medicine, these pharmaceutical companies and their money-making chicanery, it's enough to make me want to spit!' he fumed while heading upstairs, leaving me laughing in his wake. I love how he denounces anything he doesn't think is beneficial to medicine as witchcraft.

"I know what we haven't done and said we'd do, look up ideas for the tattoo you want here," I suggest, moving the arm that's around her to reach down and trail my fingertips over the small scars on her chest.

"Oh yeah, I'd forgotten all about that! Let's go now, I feel better for getting some air anyway," she replies excitedly, standing up. We head back inside and up to my room, where I switch my computer on and then pull her down onto my lap to begin looking at images once it's loaded up.

"Look at the date, we've been together properly for a month today," I tell her, after noticing the time and date icon load at the lower right-hand side of the screen. Her face is a picture of surprise.

"A month, really? Is it that long already?"  

"It is, happy anniversary, even though it's lame to have one for your first month," I tell her, giving her a kiss.

"Yeah, pretty lame. That's why I'm not returning the sentiment. And to think you're a vampire too. I dunno," she teases softly with an eye roll, making me laugh. I'm always amused when she mocks me, because it's good to hear. I can't have banter with humans; they're all too scared of me. Edie isn't though, and I love it.

"I'll be mean to you for a while to make up for it then," I joke, still laughing a little.

She leans to kiss my head, her nails combing through my hair. “That’s better.” We sit for an hour looking over different designs and ideas, with Edie pulling very thoughtful faces as we work through the various themes.

"What about if I did something that went down both sides of your chest, say from here to here," I suggest, trailing my finger from her collarbone to the top of her breast where the white lines run to.

"I don't know, I don't want it to be anything too big or bold, but now you're making me start to worry it'll look funny just on one side," she says, looking down at her chest.

"Well, I'll draw out two of whatever you have done and do one first, and then if you want the other, I'll have the line drawing right there. You need to decide what you want first though.” She doesn't make that decision tonight, getting a headache after looking at the computer for an hour and wanting to go to bed after that.  

She falls asleep quickly, and so as not to disturb her I head downstairs and wait for Ursula to arrive home. Heading to the kitchen, I pull out some fresh cuts of meat from the fridge for Icarus and Thor, throwing them into their bowls. When I whistle for them, they come running just as I expect, but just five seconds after they've put their heads down to eat, they're startled by something none of us expected. That something is for a bloody and beaten EZ to open the kitchen door and come crashing through, swaying on his feet before falling. I catch him before he hits the floor.

"What the fuck happened to you?" I ask as I haul him up and kick out a chair at the kitchen table to sit him in.

"Ten other vampires, back there right at the bottom of the main road just before I was about to turn up to here. I knew there was about four of them lurking as soon as I turned the corner, the other six caught up pretty quickly, though. I can't talk… I need blood," he grunts, holding a hand to where he's obviously been stabbed in the lung with something silver. Knowing Edie is sick and sleeping (and selfishly I'm not willing to share my food source) but seeing that my brother needs blood quickly, I zoom out without word, traveling the two-minute walk to Ursula's human friend Angela's house in about ten seconds at my speed. Twenty seconds after that and she's standing in the kitchen with me, EZ's mouth clapped around her wrist. Just then, Charles arrives.

"I'll have the fangs of whoever did this, and I will find out who," he states vehemently, after casting his eye over EZ.

"No, you won't. You know as my creator I'd never tell you what to do, but when you hear what I have to say, you'll back off. They were anti-TVM vigilantes, and they gave me a message. Unless Ursula surrender and expose her ties with the TVM and its other figureheads, this and worse happens to Angel. I suppose they needed someone to make their point with before that happened," he reveals after feeding, sealing Angela's wrist and then kissing it as he looks up at her. I don't think she will be going home tonight. She's about the only human he can tolerate, and that is because she's a very intelligent woman, and a damn good fuck too, apparently.

"In turn to match your initial words, no, they won't. I can bet just who is behind this, and it isn't who they said they were. The vampires who attacked you were sent by Elias, no doubt. Trying to scare Ursula into confessing to something she has no involvement in by doing this to you and threatening worse for Angel," he spits bitterly. Shit, all of this just took a sharp fucking turn.

Edie's POV

"There'll be more water on the floor than there is in the bath by the time we're done," I exclaim through ragged breaths, my nails running down my boyfriend's back.

"You're mistaking me for someone who gives a shit," comes his panted reply before our lips meet again in a heated kiss, with him thrusting into me so hard, my mouth breaks away and I practically scream. I'm all better after my bout of flu last week, but this week literally as soon as I was feeling well enough for sex, what happened? I got my fucking period, that's what happened.  

Usually Angel won't come near me (menstrual blood, since it isn’t fresh is kinda repelling for vampires) but when you add the fact that we haven't had sex for a week to the fact that a bath is a self-cleaning system for messy sex, well, he couldn't wait another five days for my bleeding to finish, let's put it that way. He's been so sexually wound up that I'm surprised I actually have a vagina left, to put it mildly.

I came in from work and this was the first place I wanted to go, just to relax more than anything. Hah. "Angel! Will you leave the poor girl to bathe for at least half an hour in peace before you go charging in there like some kind of crazed sex demon!" was what Ursula shouted at him when she overheard him trying to invade my bath time and me protesting it. Oh god, I laughed so hard!

I'll give him his due, I think he lasted for about twenty minutes before he came charging in with more horn than your average mountain goat. Not that I'm complaining, I at least got to relax for a little bit before I got set upon by the sexual beast that is my boyfriend. I've missed his touch in the erotic sense, and right now I don't think this is going to be over at any time soon. I think this is the perfect way to take our minds off the fact that as of nearly two weeks ago, the campaign against Ursula was reignited by EZ having seven shades of shit beaten out of him.

This happened when I was still ill, and I was sleeping when EZ apparently came home stabbed several times with silver knifes. According to his account, he was jumped by ten other vampires. He managed to throw one of them off before the other nine got to work on him, one silvering his throat with a chain while the rest beat him with silver knuckle dusters and stabbed him in the face and chest. He was okay after he'd fed, of course, and spent the rest of the evening showing his gratitude to Angela in very, very loud ways. That woman squeals like an amplified mouse at the cusp of orgasm, and he got her to that point more times than my ears want to remember. What followed that incident has been much, much worse. Everyone even remotely associated with Ursula has been targeted.

Three nights ago, what could be so classically described as an angry mob arrived here at the house, threatening to set the place on fire with all of us in it. How Ursula kept her temper with them, I'll never know. She calmly asked them exactly what evidence they had against her, asked them for just one piece. 'We know you were brought in for questioning!' the ringleader said from behind his covered face (yeah, they were so brave they covered their faces, fucking cowards) to which she asked him if there had been anything found to be implicating in that questioning, why would she still be a free woman?  

He couldn't answer that. He also couldn't answer the question of why there was a human standing there next to her who she had her arm around, and was perfectly safe and happy. That human was me. 'I suggest you all get off my property at once, or I'll show you just what a one thousand plus year old vampire can do all by herself.'

That is what she told them before they and their fiery torches all moved away. She knew she shouldn't have threatened them, but Ursula will be damned to her final death before she lets anyone put the safety of her family in jeopardy. 'You are my family too' she told me, kissing my head just after we went back inside. That gesture made me beam, to be counted as family to someone. I know I am to people like Vic and Aileen too, but for Ursula to say it just made me feel extra special. I've only been with Angel for six weeks, but the way I was welcomed into the family right from the start, you'd think I'd been with him for six years.

A few days before that, there was another incident with EZ, one that was much worse than the previous one, much worse because EZ almost killed the vampire who attacked him. He'll receive no punishment for it though, because here's the twist. The vampire who attacked him was found to be affiliated with the TVM, and he attacked EZ for allegedly 'pretending' to be TVM himself. He was caught, of course. Charles felt the anger in EZ rise and zoomed to his side before EZ had chance to fatally wound the other vampire. Sadly though, when brought in for questioning, he refused to talk.

The AVA threatened him with his life and he still wouldn’t give up any names, so yesterday morning after being interrogated non-stop for eight days to no avail, he was sentenced to the final death and chained up to meet the sunrise. Angel has also had some trouble to deal with, in the form of someone trying to pin a murder of a young girl upon him and his sexual problem. Ursula discovered her body, when enjoying her garden and picking some flowers at first dark, when she smelled something coming from the manure heap at the back of the yard. Under the large heap of horse poop was the body of a naked and drained girl.

She and Charles had been away enjoying their wedding anniversary at a beautiful hotel up in California the evening before, and she knew that it'd had been left there specifically for her to uncover as soon as she arrived home and then (hopefully for them) try and better hide the body to keep Angel out of trouble. She did exactly what they didn't expect, and reported the find immediately. Of course, she and Charles (who was quite angry at Angel for leaving the house unguarded, since EZ was away running a less illegal errand for Charles at the time) were off the hook as the poor girl had died while they were away, so that just meant EZ and Angel had fingers pointed at them, and of course both of them could give concrete alibi's. EZ was in a massive vampire bar when he was seen by many who came forward and vouched for his presence, and Angel was in me over at my place, so there's his alibi.

What was worrying about this is the fact Ursula knows they were trying to pin this on Angel, and then unravel the rest of the bodies left in his wake, pin some TVM related bullcrap on him and then also succeed in putting further evidence to the case against her. This is worrying because only a handful of vampires, ones she has known for centuries and trusts with everything knows about Angel and his problem with all human women except for me.  

She's now worried that whoever is working with Elias could possibly someone close to her. She told all of this to her creator, Constance, who was so perturbed by the idea that she is currently in the sky on a plane, flying out here to Nevada to assist 'before things get any worse than they are, my girl' as I overheard her word it to Ursula on the telephone a few nights ago. She and her newest offspring, a vampire by the name of John will be staying here at the house.

"Are you alright?" The lady herself asks me as I hobble into the kitchen just before 5am. I say hobble, because Angel only finally let me out from underneath him five minutes ago, and after you've had the sexual equivalent of a bull in an antique shop for the last near two hours, it's kind of hard to walk properly.

"No, I need to go and sit on a block of ice for an hour or so. Ouch," I wince, while Ursula giggles. Opening the fridge door, I locate my bottle of kiwi crush and take a few hearty swigs (since I've been with Angel and spend so much time here, there are a few more bits and pieces of human items to be found around the house) putting it away and then turning to Ursula once more. I then almost choke for laughing.

"Will this be adequate?" she says to me, holding up a massive block of ice from out of the deep freeze where she's zoomed to fetch it. We both stand there laughing heartily at her joke before composing ourselves. "You bring such joy to this house, dear child. Especially in these dark times we are facing, I thank you for being so upbeat." Walking over and smoothing my hair with her hands, she smiles widely, kissing my head. She's such a lovely lady. How could anyone hate her this much?

"I do try my best, if nothing else but to stop Angel from worrying about it all. I know he worries about your welfare more than he lets on," I confide, going to the jar on the side and pulling myself a cookie out, feeling a little peckish.  

"Oh, doesn't he just. I feel that too just like you do, of course. Anyway, let me keep you no longer. I'm off to see if I have any messages waiting for me on my cell, see if any of my leads on this whole debacle have come to anything. I confess though, I feel so very clueless. I eagerly await the arrival of Constance, I feel she is my last hope, and at two thousand, six hundred and sixty-six years old, nothing at all gets past her." She explains, giving me a cheek kiss goodnight and leaving the kitchen.  

I head back upstairs to Angel, for what shapes up to be round two of being fucked so hard, I’m left nothing short of dick drunk in the wake of it. He keeps me like that until 11am the next morning too, before finally he sleeps, and I more or less pass out after drinking a little blood from his wrist. I'm glad that when I wake up, my mind tricks me for a moment into thinking I have work to go to later on, until my brains kicks into gear properly and I remember it's a Saturday. Ahhh, bliss. I also remember where I'm meant to be in half an hour. Shit!

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry I overslept!" I tell Vic as I race up his driveway, with him standing there waiting for me, tapping his watch.

"Don't lie to me, you were enjoying your boyfriend, we both know that much," he teases with a snort. He actually took the news that Angel and I are in a relationship a hell of a lot better than I thought he would. 'I've been wondering just when you were going to confess that to me. The way you talk about him, well it's the way a woman talks when she likes a guy' he told me with a little knowing wink when I revealed all to him.

"That big ball of fire up there indicates otherwise," I state, pointing up at the afternoon sun. I can hardly believe it's only a week to Christmas, and Nevada is still this warm. Okay so we never really have a proper winter like the people over in Europe or on higher ground have, but it does tend to get colder and rainier in December.

"Ahhhh, I'll let you off then, just this once," Vic replies before opening his arms to me and giving me a big hug. I haven't seen him for weeks, and it feels like so much longer.

"So ,are you still coming for a drink with us later? Please say yes!" I ask as we walk inside. I'm here for an early dinner with him before we head to Vic's favourite bar in the whole world, Mackenzie's Sports bar and grill, where we'll be meeting up with Angel, who says it's high time he meets 'your father' as he worded it. Vic is the closest thing I have to a dad after all.

"Yep, I got David to cover my shift," he replies, referring to his youngest nephew.

"Good, I'm so glad because he's actually really looking forward to meeting you, and that's very telling with Angel since his interest in humans only really extends to me. He much prefers the company of his own kind," I explain as he serves up the food. Fried chicken and big, fluffy on the inside, crispy on the outside baked potatoes (he cooks them perfectly) with some collard greens. Perfect.

"In turn I look forward to meeting him, the vampire who's made you so happy. It only feels like yesterday when we were sitting at this very table, and you were spitting venom over what a nasty asshole he was. How things have changed. Oh, are you still coming to me for Christmas day? I take it you can, since Angel will be asleep," he inquires, while passing me the butter before he sits down.

"Yeah, of course, I wouldn't miss your Christmas day cook off for the world!” I've near enough always spent Christmas with Vic and his family, and I love the atmosphere in this little house so much when it's jammed full of people. All conversation then ends as we begin eating our dinner. After we're done and all the dishes have been washed and put away, we take his dog Sadie for a little walk across the big fields that back onto his street.

"So, I've been wondering, how much different is it being in a relationship with a vampire to being with a human?" he asks me as he unclips Sadie's leash and lets her run off, barking as she chases a flock of pigeons in the near distance.

"It's strange, because it really doesn't feel that different for the most part, but the reality is that it's very, very different to being with a human person. You never see them in daylight for one thing, and I actually like that since I work nights, I can see him more than if I worked in the day, I can be awake when he is and sleep with him during the day.  

“Then there's the fact they don't eat, or drink anything other than blood, so sometimes places to go on a date can be limited in that respect. You also have to get used to the fact that they're wired differently to us emotionally. They're quite cold in a lot of respects, but that's the lack of life in them since they're dead. Angel is never like that with me, but of course I've seen that side of him. What else… oh yeah, the biggest difference is what they're like in bed, but we're leaving that where it is," I reply, while Vic gives me an aghast look.

"Oh come on! If I'm being truthful, that was the part I was fishing for," he exclaims, eyes wide before he roars with laughter at the look I'm currently wearing upon my face. Think startled goldfish, and you're very close.

"Vic!" I exclaim.

"What? I don't want any personal details, that'd be wrong, very wrong! But it's something I've always wondered. I mean, do they still do it like we do, or do they do it in some kind of… freaky way?" he questions curiously. When I've finished laughing at the freaky comment, I formulate my response.

"No, they still do it in the exact same way as us living people do, just with a difference. They do it faster, and for longer, and about a thousand times better than humans. They're ridiculously in tune with the person they're having sex with, and they're usually a lot older too, so they don't forget the skills, and they pick up way more than us humans ever will simply because they're lived longer," I reply, Vic nodding.

"Sounds interesting, but they scare me too much to ever try it out for myself! Those teeth, yikes," he begins, before asking me just how old Angel is.

"One hundred and thirty-six.” There's a few seconds of silence, and I turn to see him nodding before my eyes move to find Sadie towing along a big old fallen branch back in our direction, suddenly hearing a hissing noise. Oh lord, what's tickled him now?

"What's with you now?" I exclaim, trying not to laugh too. He has one of those really high-pitched laughs that automatically has me in hysterics. The noise doesn't sound like it's coming from a big guy like him.

"Your boyfriend is a hundred and eight years older than you. Ewww," he taunts, before really whooping with laughter.

"Shut up!" I protest.

"Does he smell mouldy?" I'm then asked through the hysterics.

"Vic! Stop it!" I cry, throwing him an elbow. I know he's only kidding, but I also know he won't quit teasing me now. It's the start of what promises to be a great night. If only it could remain that way all the way through, though.

[midori-laboratories]

Flowers and Ash, Chapter 1

First chapter of Book 1, Calendula Chronicles series.

Story synopsis: When the eldest daughter of Edward Ashford accompanies her father and brother on a last-minute trip in 1968 to secure their legacy, an act of spite turns into a boon for the family. When tragedy and scandal strike, the survivors will have to be clever if they are to live long enough to pick up the pieces of their lives. Pre-slash/Gen.

CW for eventual violence, implied death of family member, isolation, dissociation, and violence

September 1968: an undisclosed location in Africa

The sheer weight of the summer heat bore down on the occupants of the all-terrain Jeep making a steady, careful path through the marshes. The mercenary at the wheel had blinked at the pair deplaning at the airfield. Practically kids, he’d sneered to himself. Who'd send for their kids to visit them in a war zone?

Alexander Ashford, seventeen and severe, had attempted to turn the full weight of what he must have seen as aristocratic hauteur on the grizzled veteran of the recent Kijiju…well, incident was a word. Cleansing was Lord Spencer’s favored term, and no one had corrected him within earshot. 

The elder man smirked at the little lordling and mockingly touched his brow. “Ashford, all then? The whole clan coming in?” The two porters struggling behind them with cases of equipment blanched and hurried past to the car. Two more minutes and this wouldn’t be their problem anymore.

A cool voice intervened. “Yes. Colonel Connor, I presume?” The girl at his side was a hair taller than the boy, lithe and neoclassical in appearance the way most women whose titles had survived the war seemed to be. Her long, dark blonde hair was tucked into a neat bun, looking exhausted but composed. Her eyes flicked from his face to his jacket, badges identifying him as such. “Lovely. My brother and I are not quite used to travel and rather delighted to be back on solid ground. Are you to escort us to the site right away?” Her voice held the tone of a woman who was deciding the color palette for her sitting room.

It was also the tone of a woman who would be delighted to spend an afternoon filing paperwork should he decide to antagonize the little lordling further. As fun as that might be, the look in her eye suggested that poking at that particular hole would have him come away with a bloody hand. Colonel Connor grunted, and they all climbed into the Jeep and took off through the marshes.

The road was rough. If the Colonel happened to hit more of the potholes than strictly necessary, well, what of it?

Alexander yelped and started to shout on the fourth major jolt in ten minutes, then again when the girl’s hand lashed out like a cobra and pinched him on the leg, hard. He looked at her, wounded. “Marigold, what’s wrong-“

Marigold, nineteen and fresh off the debutante line, silenced him with a look that might have turned men to stone. “Try not to piss off the men with guns,” she hissed back. “You don’t know the situation here. Have you not ever picked up a newspaper?” Riots and unrest seemed to blanket this part of the world. The fact that they had sent mercenaries to clear the way for the ‘great men of science’ was not particularly encouraging. The roar of the engine made it harder to eavesdrop on them here, but still…

But then again, years of smiling and etiquette and mastering the ‘feminine arts’ in a Swiss boarding school had crafted her into a mercenary of a softer variety. The Queen Charlotte’s Ball in London, a shadow of its Victorian glory, had done well enough to get her into society, and the apprenticeship as the young lady of the manor had begun at once.

And then, abruptly, ended. The world was not kind to highly visible young women who made youthful mistakes. Marigold Ashford had been no exception to that particular rule. Her body was still healing from the aftermath of that little mistake. Her father, as doting on his only daughter as he was ruthlessly expectant of his only son, had insisted that she accompany her brother at the last minute, 'to give her some time away'. 

Alex made a face at her, clearly inured to her Gorgonesqe stare. As brilliant as her little brother was- and he truly was- Alexander Ashford was sometimes equally as gifted at clinging to idiocy. “I’m not the one ducking scandals back ho-ooooow fine I’ll stop.”

Shooting him one last look, she smiled pleasantly at the rearview mirror and nodded to the Colonel. He seemed to be making an effort not to laugh at the sight of two teenagers bickering in his backseat. “Forty minutes more, miss.” The man called back. “ Marigold smiled wanly in response and leaned back, focusing on keeping her stomach in check as the Jeep lurched towards their destination.

---

The main encampment sprawled fifty feet from the mouth of the cave. Generators and cables wound around the entrance to the cave’s cavernous mouth. Mercenaries held the entrance and patrolled through the camps.

The siblings worked hard to match pace with the cantankerous Colonel. “So much security,” she said as softly as she could manage, given their pace. “This is normal?” Open-ended, carefully framed to not offend the planners.

Connor had thawed very slightly since seeing the private display of sibling dominance in play. There was enough ego on this site between the blue blood and the brains that the thought of another young hormonal genius to chivy about had been a headache-inducing one. He could tolerate a fancy little lady about if her job were to slap some sense into the fuckwits who thought they were too good to mind the perimeters at night. “It was a long, rough spring, miss. Can’t be too careful.” He walked on. She blinked at the brush-off, then followed.

“They’ve already set up the lab equipment,” Alexander noted. Marigold knew his earlier pique had been from impatience and exhaustion, now temporarily forgotten. The ink on his doctorate was still drying, so to speak, and he had leapt at the invitation to meet their father down here, at this secret site in hostile territory.

Marigold smiled back at him, brighter and more genuine this time. “Meaning that you’ll be able to get down to work so much quicker, yes?” Alexander grinned back, and she kept moving forward, smile falling off of her face as she kept pacing the colonel.

Please, let them finish the work quickly, she thought with a deeper fervor than she thought possible.

“Ah, the heirs approach,” a voice drifted on the late afternoon haze as they approached a moderate pavilion. Three men were seated around a table, gin and tonic firmly at hand. Wouldn’t do to let malaria into the party when you have a virologist on hand, Marigold thought. Aloud, she called out, “Father, we’ve arrived!”

Lord Ashford, chief virologist in the expedition, smiled broadly at his children and rose from his seat the greet them. Alexander first- clapping the young man on the shoulder. They talked in animated tones about the boy’s doctoral work- the timing, really couldn’t have worked out better if they had tried. The elder Ashford, generally nearly clinical in manner, made an exception when connecting through science, and Alexander had strived to nurture that genius thread as much as possible.

Marigold stepped to the side, watching them fondly. Lord Ashford really hadn’t known what to do with a daughter, but that was common for the type of girls she had grown up with. She had been sent to a boarding school for the children of the supposedly idle rich. She had worked to make friends- no, allies- while learning how to be effective wives for the next generation’s up-and-coming young men. She blanched internally at the thought, holding her indulgently thoughtful mask steady. Surely she wouldn’t have had to be carted all the way here for that.

Lord Ashford turned to her, eyes still shining with pride for Alexander. Sometimes, the reflected light from that was enough. She smiled back. “Father, it’s good to see you. The invitation was a surprise, be welcome nonetheless.” And still a mystery. Why?

He smiled back, touching her cheek as if she were made of spun sugar. The delicate way he handled her had always amused Alexander, and he managed to make use of the insured angle he held to cross his eyes at her. She huffed at him, not without fondness. Doctor or not, he was such a kid sometimes. She was glad of it.

Her father lowered his voice. “I heard about London. Are you alright?” Marigold smiled at him, though a tightness crept into her voice. “We can discuss that later.” Shifting her tone to something more genial, she said more loudly, “I’m not sure what I can really do out here, but a change of scenery was a lovely idea.”

Lord Spencer - uncle, she was supposed to call him, remember- toasted the teens in an unusually effusive move for him. Today must have been a productive one. “We’re quite lucky to have to pleasure of your company, both of you. Miss Ashford, I heard that you completed your term in Geneva?”

The other man at the table was perhaps in his mid-twenties. The botanist, she recited mentally, Dr. Marcus. American. He’d been removed from his posting at a Swiss university due to some sort of academic scandal, and Spencer had snapped him up. She’d known a few American girls at finishing school. They were often more gregarious but had a sense of restlessness about them. This particular one seemed to be repressing a sneer, looking up sharply at the mention of Geneva and eyeing her suspiciously. He wasn’t doing a particularly good job of it, but he clearly felt otherwise. Best not dispel that particular myth on first meeting. Privately she noted to look further into the matter. Knowing a partial story seemed fraught, somehow.

He was also the reason that she wished Spencer hadn’t mentioned Geneva, but the barb was already delivered. “Last year, really.” She did her best to appear oblivious to the younger botanist. “London was chaos most of this spring, I’ve really barely come up for air,” please let him assume I’m not smart enough to know how much of his fall had clung to him, she silently begged. She kept her eyes on Spencer.

He held her eye for a long moment, then nodded, seeming to approve. The tension slowly began to seep out of the moment. A test, then? So it would be one of those visits. She’d grown up on tales of Dame Sark holding off the invading Germans through etiquette alone. This was hardly the family parlor, but it seemed like she wouldn’t be kept entirely idle on this trip.

Twenty minutes and a few polite excuses later, the young pair were led off to their quarters for their stay. Edward Ashford watched the leave with a fond look that almost threatened to break into a smile. “Alexander’s up to date with the latest in gene expression,” he said to the other two almost as an afterthought. It’s a shame the virus doesn’t have an active sample to work from, but working from the point where the body fails is still data.” None mentioned the population of warriors who had died in their temple cavern in a last-ditch effort to be the one worthy to lead. “We ought to be able to map the structure of the virus from that point. Oswell…are you quite sure about your weapons angle? The pharmaceutics side is an easy enough pitch, is it not?” They had been arguing this point enough that summer that

Spencer did little more than sigh at this point. “It is, and we’ll need directors on that side. People to broker the relationships we’ll need for growth.” He sipped his drink, grimacing at the quinine taste. “Loyalty’s harder to cultivate than training, given decent enough instincts. Did you tell her about the Umbrella project?”

Edward frowned. “I told Alexander, of course.”

“Hmm. I keep getting letters from London asking about the exciting new company that has no details that your boy is somehow in the middle of.” Spencer smiled. It was a cruel expression on his face. “The whole thing had filtered through the grapevine of the social season quite thoroughly. I wonder what a little political and business acumen would generate for accessing the defense budgets.”

Marcus’ sneering reply seemed to evaporate at this last point, and his mouth snapped shut. Of course. Spencer had poured a large chunk of his fortune into the Arklay facility. Someone would have to get the machinery of investment going, for the little storefront facade these two were building around the working, and how to hunt for the proverbial white whales who would want the true product.

Still. Ashford had seemingly materialized from a silent partner to bringing his entire line in on the project. He had gone from running his own lab and project with Spencer’s support to being relegated to a junior partner in the enterprise. Spencer's offer to trade his access to the academic world for full research support had changed the balance of power in their little circle. In the lab, he didn't care much, but the gap was already visible. 

His assistant, George Bailey, was still with him, for now. Spencer had been pulling George aside more and more this year. Spencer had put it down to the necessities of building support for his research. Scaling the business was an inevitability.

Ashford seemed not to notice the tension at the table. “Industry events are dreadful affairs,” he mused. “I wouldn’t mind going to fewer conferences if someone were able to do that bit of legwork.” Alexander was still rising in his field, of course. Still, the company itself would need representation out in the world, and his daughter, practically tailor-made for such things, needed something to do with her time. She'd run wild quite enough this past year. Ashford relaxed further, satisfied for now.

They had been friends since their shared youth, united in vision and, with a new generation ready to take the baton, on the cusp of a great era of discovery.

Whatever could go wrong?

[casspurrjoybell-27]

In a Heartbeat - Chapter 15 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Vince

I remember the first time I met David, Michael's mate, I had just turned thirteen, Michael had been nineteen.

David was turning sixteen, the age where a mate's scent can be discovered.

Michael had known David was his mate for three years but like most mates, the bond would only be at its strongest when both were of age.

As much as I hated to admit it, David was an all-around good guy.

He had gone straight to work after schooling to help take care of orphaned pups or the elder wolves within the pack, often assisting our mother and the other she-wolves in making sure they were well taken care of.

Michael had introduced us to him over dinner one night.

At that point, I had only seen David in passing or seeing him briefly chat with mother over one of the elderly wolves they were assigned.

He was polite, charming and honestly a good match to my often rash and stubborn brother.

Michael had told our father, Damon, that he was a friend, a close one that had the qualifications for being a great Beta or bodyguard for our family.

He was highly intelligent, placed top of his class, did a plethora of volunteer work and had experience with working with other packs through internships and outside jobs he had with the humans and classic David, he brushed the compliments off, blushing and downplaying the qualifications he obviously had.

However, the look on fathers face during dinner seemed to suggest that Michael had more to say than suggest a job offer.

There was a moment of silence before Michael sighed and grasped David's hand.

When Michael had dropped the news that David was, in fact, his mate and not just a friend, our father made a face we had never seen directed at any of us.

It was the first time I saw disappointment on our father's face.

At thirteen, I didn't see anything wrong with David being his mate but I hadn't known the gravity of what that meant, especially for our family and as his disappointment turned to rage, our confusion had quickly turned to fear.

Xavier, who was only seven had burst out crying, hiding behind mother as waves of unprecedented anger seemed to wash over our father.

I could only watch in complete stillness as the events played out so quickly.

Michael had grabbed David's hand and had stepped away from the long dining table, Michael shielding David away from Damon.

David, despite being taller than my brother, seemed to cower in terror as father stalked over to them.

"Like hell," he shouted before lowering his voice.

"I will not have this happen again."

"Dad."

"Get out," he used his Aalpha voice, something he's never had to use on any of us before, which had scared all of us shitless, including our mother who had started tearing up as well, still clutching little Xavier to her chest.

That night, Michael and David were nowhere to be seen and father had tucked Xavier and me to bed.

He had calmed down significantly but I could tell Xavier was still apprehensive as he squeezed my hand tightly next to me.

He didn't always like sharing the bed with me but he happened to stay in my bed for almost a week after that incident.

After our father said his good nights, he turned to me, mind-linking me.

'When you turn sixteen, you find your mate and she'll be perfect. Michael may have fucked this up but when you find your she-wolf, you'll become our pack's Alpha and if I find out your mate is a fucking male, I will, son and all...' he leaned closer, whispering in my ear.

'Make your life a living hell.'

I could do nothing but nod as he slowly walked out, his threat leaving an uncomfortable silence that left me sleepless for months.

I hadn't seen Michael or David for a few months after that and when I did, it was like they had become an average pack member.

They didn't interact hardly ever and when they did, they seemed to dance around each other, barely touching.

A part of me felt sorry for Michael.

If only David had been a she-wolf, maybe things would've turned out far different and when Simon had told me we were mates, I had been scared shitless.

I had almost forgotten his threat and despite father being dead, I still feared what a male mate meant.

He was probably rolling in his grave, wishing to tear me a new one.

I was honestly surprised I hadn't seen his ghost trying to haunt me yet.

So excuse me if I was angry that everyone seemed to feel sorry for Simon when really they should worry about the repercussions male mates, especially as an Alpha, would have on the pack.

Now that I had to face my older brother Michael again, it left a bad taste in my mouth.

I had kicked him and David out for a reason when I assumed father's role as Alpha and hated that we agreed to meet face to face at the RCPP.

Our father, Damon established the Rogue Control and Protection Project roughly twelve years ago.

According to him, our mother Marie had been the one to push for a more friendly border and allow their access to pack land if they needed medical assistance or seek asylum from other packs or rogues.

For the most part, our father seemed to revere the RCPP he had started up.

Hundreds of rogues had been helped within the first few months and it had seemed to make the overall safety and atmosphere of the surrounding territories friendlier and safer for both pack members and rogues but shortly after, the program was failing.

Rogues would flock to our pack seeking 'medical attention' only to use the facility as a resting spot, a place to get fed and obtain free supplies to the point that the safety for pack members was quickly diminishing.

Pups were rushed indoors, the elderly weren't allowed outside for more than a few hours, buddy systems were quickly being put in place.

When father died, I wanted to scrap the program completely but I kept it for our mothers sake.

I had completely overhauled the policies, making it harder for people to take advantage of it.

Rogues were limited to medical emergencies only and would be granted three months for any follow-up.

After that, they could only seek medical help from us after a year had passed and if they wanted to become a pack member, it would take an eight-ten year process.

Any rogues seeking medical attention were to obtain tracking devices so we could track their movements and ensure that they didn't overuse the RCPP.

The RCPP was a dilapidated building that hadn't really gone undergone any major changes since my father had built it.

Of course, the medial supplies and tools were all top-notch stuff, as it had the same things as the main pack hospital had.

We could house both rogues in human and wolf form but this building was not nearly as expansive and comforting as the main clinic.

Walking up to it now, I wished I hadn't agreed to meeting with Michael at all.

We were always at odds with each other, even before he had introduced us to David.

He was a know-it-all, haughty at times and relished in the fact that he was 'destined' to be Alpha being the first-born son.

To him, I was always the second-best, too innocent and naive to be an Alpha but look how the mighty have fallen and a part of me was excited to see him just to rub it in his face that I had become dad's favorite.

[i-believe-in-melinda-may]

First Draft of the first chapter of my new Nat/Melinda fanfiction.

September 1995

For Five years Clint Barton has been an Agent of SHIELD ever since he was nineteen years old and was recruited by Phil Coulson and Melinda May. Through his time at SHIELD Clint has found not only a job he loves but a place he feels like he belongs; and now there is a chance he’s going to lose it all.

Over Two weeks ago, he was sent on a mission by Director Nick Fury to take out a Russian operative, but rather than killing her Clint has helped her prove that she wants to defect and brough her back to the United States. As he paces back and forth Clint knows he has done the right thing, but he is terrified that no one else is going to believe him, which is why, despite everything else going, on he has reached out to the person he believes is going to be on his side, the person he believes will be able to help others see the potential he sees.

“This better be good,” Melinda May, looking half asleep not surprising when it’s three am, says, as she walks towards where Clint is pacing in a corridor in a basement level of the Triskelion.

“Mels, I’m sorry,” Clint says, hurrying towards her. “I know you’re on maternity leave for another two weeks, and I didn’t want to call, but I need your help… I know she can be an asset, and she wants to start over, she really does, but Fury is so pissed, I don’t know how to get him to see that,” Clint starts to explain, and Melinda can tell how desperate he is, how much he believes what he is saying, and how afraid he is that no one is going to be on their side.

“Clint, slow down,” Melinda requests, trying to make sense of what he is saying, something which isn’t as easy as it normally would be due to Melinda’s lack of sleep. “Now, who’s she? What do you want me to do?” Melinda requests, her voice even but clear that she wants straight answers, and Clint better give them to her.  

“Natasha Romanoff,” Clint answers. “She’s a Russian operative, Fury sent me to take her out… but, there was something about her… I couldn’t do it,” Clint admits. “Mels, she wants to join SHIELD, and she’s already turned against the Russians,” Clint explains. “She’s in there,” Clint says, pointing to a room that Melinda knows to be a meeting room. “And Fury’s upstairs deciding what to do with her,” Clint explains to Melinda and as he does everything starts to fall into place for her.

“And you want me to talk to her, see if I agree with you and then talk to Fury,” Melinda realises.

“Fury trusts your judgement, if you say she deserves a chance he’ll listen,” Clint says, clearly believing that.

“I’ll talk to her,” Melinda tells Clint. “But there’s no guarantee I’ll agree with you,” Melinda tells Clint, wanting to make that clear.

“You will,” Clint says, and Melinda knows how much he believes that.

“Okay,” Melinda says, taking her access card, which has a higher access level than Clint’s, out of her pocket and walking over to the room, letting herself in.

Walking into the interview room Melinda sees a redhaired woman who looks to be in her twenties, but unknown to Melinda is actually older, sitting in the chair. While she is attempting to give a careless persona off Melinda knows that she is scared, that she wants to belong, and that she is determined to prove that she can be an Agent of SHIELD.

“My name’s Melinda May,” Melinda introduced,         knowing that even with her advantages she has to be careful how she handles this, especially considering she knows Natasha is sizing her up. “Clint asked me to talk to you,” Melinda says as she pulls out a chair and sits down across from her. “He believes you could be an asset, that you could have a place within SHIELD, that you deserve a chance,” Melinda explains and as she does, she knows that Natasha is shocked that Clint has faith in her. “What do you think about that?” Melinda asks, wanting to hear what she has to say.

“I think you must be an expert interrogator to be sent in here,” Natasha says, showing what Melinda already knew which is that Natasha is guarded, that she doesn’t want to give anything away.

“I wasn’t sent, Clint asked me, I’m here as a favour to him,” Melinda explains, deciding that honesty is best, as she knows that Natasha is assessing her just as much as she is doing the same to her. “Natasha, I am going to put my cards on the table, may I call you Natasha?” Melinda asks, realising that she should have made sure of that.

“I guess,” Natasha responds, and Melinda knows that she is curious about her.

“Clint asked me here because he wants you both to have an ally,” Melinda explains. “I’ve known Clint a few years, I trust him, and I know that he has faith in you, which is exactly why he’s gone out on a limb,” Melinda reveals, choosing her words carefully. “I will go to bat for you, something which does carry weight around her, but before I do that, I need to know that you want this, that you’re not playing Clint,” Melinda explains, realising that while Natasha is surprised by her honesty, she also appreciates it. “So, Natasha Romanoff, why are you here?” Melinda asks simply, as that’s the answer she needs to hear.

“Because I don’t want to be what I was made to be anymore,” Natasha answers, doing so without really thinking about her answer. “I… I’m good at what I do May, the best even, but that’s not who I want to be anymore,” Natasha admits, being more open than she ever is because something tells her that this is her only chance. “I am here because I want to make a change, I want to do something good for once, be a part of something, be more than I have been,” Natasha explains.

“Okay,” Melinda says, being able to tell that there is more than what Natasha is saying, but that she is not ready to share, but because of everything else she knows Natasha is feeling Melinda doesn’t need to know that, not yet. “I’ll be back soon,” Melinda says, not giving anything away as she gets up and heads out of the room, knowing that Natasha is confused by her behaviour.

As soon as Melinda walks out of the room she can tell how worried Clint is even though he has faith in Natasha.

“You weren’t in there long, is that good? Bad?” Clint asks concerned, finding Melinda impossible to read, just like always.

“It means I’ve talked to Natasha, now I’m going to talk to Fury,” Melinda says, before walking away from him without another word, leaving Clint to feel very confused as well as concerned.

(Line break)

After leaving the basement level where Natasha and Clint are Melinda heads straight up to the higher level of the Triskelion where Fury’s office is. As it’s the middle of the night and there is no current disaster going on Melinda doesn’t see another person until she walks into Fury’s office where she finds Fury, who unknown to Melinda has just gotten off a video call.

“Barton call you?” Fury asks, seeing Melinda, who nods.

“He wanted my help, my assessment,” Melinda admits, as she casually sits down in one of the armchairs across from Fury.

“Of course,” Fury says, not at all surprised by that. “I just finished getting that from your godmother,” Fury reveals, and Melinda is pretty sure she knows what was said based on what she can tell.

“I’m not surprised,” Melinda admits, knowing exactly which of her two godmothers he is referring too without Fury needing to say.

“You’re never surprised,” Fury reminds Melinda.  

“True… I’m not entirely sure I can be,” Melinda admits. “But I’m not here to talk about that,” Melinda admits, knowing that it’s probably not the best place to talk about that particular thing.

“Of course not. You talked to her?” Fury asks, and Melinda nods. “And? What do you think?”

“I think, she deserves a chance,” Melinda admits. “She wants to be different; she wants to belong… I think she can be trusted, and with time, maybe, just maybe if we’re lucky, she’ll trust us,” Melinda tells Fury, and for a moment he looks like he is considering both what she said and the conversation he has already had about the matter.

“When you’re back she’s your responsibility, they both are,” Fury says, not asking Melinda to return from leave early as that wouldn’t be fair, isn’t something he is willing to do to her, and Melinda knows he is saying that because he wants someone, he trusts to oversee this.  

“Okay, but until I am back don’t shut her away, give her some freedoms, otherwise by the time I get back it will be too late,” Melinda tells Fury.

“That could backfire,” Fury says, showing that he doesn’t have as much trust as Melinda, something which they both already knew.   

“It could… but I don’t think it will,” Melinda admits.

“It’s your ass if it does,” Fury says, standing up, wanting to make that clear.  

“I figured,” Melinda admits, standing up too. “But that doesn’t change my recommendation,” Melinda tells Fury.

“Didn’t expect it to,” Fury says before heading out of the office, Melinda right behind him.

(Line break)

Not long after they left Fury’s office Melinda and Fury walk into the corridor where Clint is still pacing back and forth, but when he Melinda and Fury he stops pacing and turns to face them.

“Director?” Clint asks, and Melinda can tell how nervous he is.

“Barton… with us,” Fury says, and he heads straight to the room where Natahsa is and lets the three of them in.

As the trio walk into the room Melinda can tell that Natahsa is nervous about what is going to happen, but Melinda also knows that it is something that she would never admit.

“Natasha Romanoff, welcome to SHIELD,” Fury says to her, and it is clear to Melinda that both Clint and Natahsa are surprised by that.

“Sir?” Natasha responds, hiding her surprise as she thought it would be a lot more complicated.

“You’ll be on probation for a year, and when she is back from leave in two weeks Agent May will be responsible for you,” Fury says, purposely not mentioning the leave Melinda is on as he knows how few people know that. “Until then you’ll undergo skill assessments here before going on any mission,” Fury explains. “You’ll be confined to the Triskelion for now, but your movements inside won’t be restricted any more than Agent Barton’s are,” Fury tells Natasha. “Questions?” Fury asks.

“No Sir,” Natasha responds, still trying to digest everything.

“Good, this won’t be the last time we talk,” Fury says before heading out of the room, wanting to give Natasha, and even Clint, even a chance to digest everything, and Melinda knows just how amazed Natasha is as she wasn’t expecting that.

“Thank you,” Clint says to Melinda, who nods.

“You should show Natasha to the bunks,” Melinda tells Clint, before turning to Natasha. “I’ll see you in two weeks, Clint knows how to get in touch with me before then if you need anything,” Melinda explains to her, and Natasha nods.

Seeing Natasha’s nod and knowing that Natasha is feeling a little overwhelmed by everything that has happened over the past few minutes Melinda heads to the door.

“May,” Natasha says, and Melinda turns around to look at her. “I appreciate you going to bat for me,” Natasha tells her, and Melinda knows that after what she just did Natasha is worried about letting her down.  

“You’re welcome, I don’t think I’m going to regret it,” Melinda says before leaving, causing Natasha to be confused about how Melinda could know what she was worried about.

“Yeah, May just seems to know things, I don’t know how,” Clint says, recognizing the look on Natahsa’s face, as one he has seen before, one he knows has been on his face before, but what he has never had is an explanation. “Let’s get out of here,” Clint suggests, as while the bunks aren’t the most comfortable, they are certainly more comfortable than the room they are currently in, and Natasha stands up, wondering if she is ever going to figure Melinda May out, as she does.

(Line break)

After leaving the Triskelion Melinda heads back home and as she walks into her townhouse Melinda wakes the person sleeping on the couch resulting in her best friend Phil Coulson pointing a gun at her.  

“Just me,” Melinda says, not even phased, causing Phil to realise it’s her, before she turns and locks the door while Phil lowers the gun.

“Can’t be too careful,” Phil says.

“Don’t have to tell me that,” Melinda says as she walks over him, appreciating his actions. “How are the girls?” Melinda asks.

“Fine, neither have made a peep,” Phil says as Melinda sits down next to him.

“Good, thank you for staying with them,” Melinda says to him.

“Happy too, you know I’m always wiling to help,” Phil tells Melinda.

“I know,” Melinda says, knowing she will always be grateful for that.

“So? You going to keep me in suspense or you going to tell me what Clint got himself into?” Phil asks curious, as he has been wondering what was going on since Melinda left.  

“He recruited a Russian operative he was sent to take out,” Melinda explains, knowing it is the simplest way to explain that.

“He what?” Phil asks shocked.

“Yeah... he had his reasons,” Melinda admits. “He made the right call,” Melinda admits.

“Which I’m guessing is what he wanted you to tell Fury,” Phil realises, everything falling into place for him.

“Yep,” Melinda confirms. “I was the second person to do so,” Melinda explains.

“Peggy?” Phil asks and Melinda nods.

“He called her for her assessment,” Melinda explains.

“Well, she is the best person to ask about something like this,” Phil comments.

“Really is,” Melinda confirms.

“How’s she doing?” Phil asks curious, as it has been a little while since he seen the founder of SHIELD.

“Okay… considering,” Melinda answers. “She’s struggling, especially lately,” Melinda admits.

“It would have been their anniversary recently…right?” Phil asks, wondering if he has gotten his dates mixed up.

“Yeah,” Melinda confirms. “It would have been their fortieth,” Melinda explains. “From what I was told it was a hard day, a struggle to get through, but she wasn’t alone,” Melinda says, and Phil knows exactly who would have told Melinda that.

“Good,” Phil says, feeling glad that Peggy didn’t have to experience that day alone. “So, I got the info for the next retreat,” Phil reveals, and Melinda knows that while it is not the first time Phil has received that invitation, he is still amazed by that. “I assuming the fact that it covers Hope’s sixteenth birthday isn’t a coincidence,” Phil assumes.  

“No, it’s not,” Melinda confirms. “We wanted to make sure she has something special, even if it’s not Hank who makes sure of that,” Melinda tells Phil.

“It’s what she deserves,” Phil says. “And we got the information now as even though it’s months away it takes that long to make sure all of you can be there,” Phil comments.

“All of us Phil,” Melinda corrects. “You know you’re considered family,” Melinda reminds him.

“I know… but I’m like Jim, the rest of you want us to be with you, consider us family, but we’re still outsiders and may not be able to always be with you,” Phil tells Melinda, who frowns, Phil knowing that technically Fury could be in the same boat but he’s even a bit more removed.  

“None of us consider you, either of you, to be outsiders,” Melinda assures Phil. “You know that right?” Melinda asks as she assumes that had been made clear.

“I know… but we didn’t experience what the rest of you experienced, what Hope, Antoine and Sharon are starting to experience, what Daisy and Bobbi will one day experience, no matter how hard we all try to protect them from it,” Phil reminds her. “So as welcome as you have made us, as much as you consider us to be family, we could never completely understand and that makes us outsiders,” Phil tells Melinda, who realises he may have a point.

“You try to understand, that means… everything,” Melinda says.

“So, your godmother has said,” Phil says, and Melinda knows he is not talking about Peggy. “My point is, I’m glad to know when the next retreat is, but if I have to cover a mission so you can be there I will,” Phil tells Melinda.

“I appreciate it,” Melinda says, Phil knowing that even if that’s not always clear, and before he can say anything he yawns. “Spare rooms yours if you want to get some rest,” Melinda tells Phil.

“I might just do that,” Phil says. “Goodnight, May,” Phil says standing up.

“Goodnight Coulson,” Melinda responds, and once she does Phil heads out of the room, after Phil heads out of the room Melinda spends a few moments just sitting on the couch before getting up and heading upstairs.

Once upstairs rather than heading to her own room Melinda heads to another bedroom. Walking into the room Melinda finds her infant daughter Daisy asleep in her crib while Bobbi, her eight, almost nine, year old adoptive daughter is fast asleep in her bed.

Walking over to her girls Melinda checks on Bobbi, tucks her in, and places a kiss on her head, and spends a few moments watching her sleep. After watching Bobbi for a little while Melinda walks over to Daisy where she once again bends down and places a kiss on Daisy’s head, and despite the exhaustion she is feeling Melinda watches her daughter rather catching up on the sleep she desperately needs, feeling peace.

[wwilloww]

sh. | chapter nineteen | ot7

PAIRING ot7 x reader RATING Explicit. 18+. GENRE smut. fluff. angst. nonidol au. wildnerness au. roommates au. friends to lovers. SUMMARY Six months of quarantine have kept you apart. Somehow the distance sparks something new in each of you: questions, unfinished conversations, threads once chased now left cold. So when your roommate invites you to come with him to a mysterious house in the mountains with your friends, how could you even think of saying no? WC 6.6k WARNINGS AND TAGS  sexual negotiations. talk of sex. near death experience. allusions to history of suicidal ideation (resources). dry humping.

AN pLEASE read the warnings of this chapter! If you've read the warnings and don't want to read the chapter but still want to know what's going on, message me and I'll provide a little tldr; just for you. This chapter wasn't easy to write, and I learned a lot about myself through writing it. I'd be lying if I said there weren't some tears on the page after writing, but I have the biggest of thank yous to the incredible @hesperantha @thatlongspringnight @miscelunaaa and @sugalaritae who helped me transform this from something I needed to write for me to something that actually fits into the story. I feel hesitant to post this, but I'm trusting you all with this and know you will take care of this story. If you're still here, thank you for reading. You're amazing.

← || series m.list || →

CHAPTER NINETEEN: THE EDGE

“We said we’d wait a few days to talk about this, but it’s clear a conversation needs to happen now,” Jimin begins. 

The eight of you are sitting around the dining room table, breakfast hot and steaming in bowls before you, but none of you are eating. As soon as you and Hoseok had entered the room, a swift and chilly tension had settled upon the table. Six pairs of cold eyes had been set upon Hoseok as soon as he entered, and it was clear that the exchange that happened in the kitchen this morning was shared with the entire group. Namjoon’s eyes flicker concernedly down to where your hand is wrapped around Hoseok’s.

 “We said, after the other night—” it’s clear which night Jimin’s talking about. “—that things between all of us were casual.” Everyone nods. “But it’s obvious to me that that’s not the case. Not one bit.” 

Your chest tightens. Not casual? You’re not in the slightest ready for something serious, for some kind of commitment to these men. That’s, that’s simply not what you agreed to. 

“As soon as feelings start getting hurt,” Jimin continues, “this no longer becomes casual. I’ve talked to some of you. I’m worried that there’s jealousy—” His gaze flickers to Jungkook, whose head hangs down. “And I’m worried that we’re not respecting the vulnerability inherent to sex.” His gaze lands on Hoseok. The words on his tongue sound prepared, rehearsed, like Jimin’s been going over them in his head for a while now, or practiced them in the bathroom mirror. 

“Hoseok,” Yoongi chimes in, his jaw twitching. “In case you weren’t sure, we’re talking about you.” 

Hoseok’s eyes flash up towards Yoongi. His lips move like he wants to say something. 

“What happened this morning was unacceptable. It can’t happen again,” Jimin says, before a sound can leave Hoseok. Hoseok shuts his mouth. “Not only that, but pushing one of your closest friends away after having sex with them? It’s just unacceptable.”

Hoseok hangs his head. “I know. I’m sorry, and—” 

“I think there’s only one solution. I think we should stop,” Jimin says. “I think we should stop all of this.”

Silence freezes through the room. 

“No!” you call out. The response surprises even you. You’re not ready for this to end. You’re not ready to let go of what you’ve received from these seven men in the past several days. Your innards hold onto it like it’s something precious, because, you realize, it is. It’s been so long since you’ve felt so accepted, so seen by so many people. Sure, there is a part of you that feels like there’s an unknown edge to all of this—to all of them—that scares the shit out of you, but not because it’s bad. Only because it’s new, unknown. You’re not ready to let go of this. “I mean—I mean. I think this is something that we can talk through. Hoseok and I talked.” You reach beneath the table to take his hand. “We talked and it’s okay.”

“Is it really okay though?” Namjoon asks, his gaze hard and protective. “Is one little conversation really enough to fix things?” 

You look at Hoseok then. Perhaps you had been too quick to accept his apology. But you know this man. You’ve known him for years and understand that an apology from him doesn’t come quickly or easily. He surprises you again by speaking up. 

“I fucked up, guys,” Hoseok says. “I don’t know what’s been getting into me. I thought, um, I expected things to be easy. That I wouldn’t, um… want. As much as I do.” 

“What does that mean?” you whisper. 

“I think we need to expand the meaning of casual,” Hoesok says. “I don’t know if I can do casual.” 

“What does that mean?” your voice wavers. 

“I don’t think I can pretend that sex doesn’t mean something to me.” 

To this, Namjoon nods knowingly, like he understands and agrees. Hoseok catches the gesture and offers Namjoon an unsure smile.

“I was trying to pretend that it doesn’t mean anything to me, that you,” he looks at you, “don’t mean anything to me, that none of you do.” He looks around the table, lingering on each of your friends. “But that’s just not true. I shut down, trying to imagine—

“I get that,” Jungkook interrupts. “I get that a lot.”

“Thanks Jungkook, but yeah. I shut down, trying to imagine that things were nothing more than sex, and that’s just not—that’s just not going to work for me. I’m not going to sit here and pretend that I think we’re all ready for some kind of committed relationship,” Hoseok says. “I know that’s not true, and honestly that’s not what I want. But what I need is to know that this—” He squeezes your hand. “—means something.”

Your chest tightens immeasurably, but at the same time, you know something he’s saying is true. 

“I think I understand what he’s saying,” Namjoon adds. “I think there needs to be space for the messy bits. The feelings.” 

The feelings? There are feelings? 

Suddenly you’re reeling, sucking in a shaky breath. This whole time it’s felt like you've been in a vacuum, alone with your thoughts and feelings. You know you’ve felt things for these men. Unnamable, unknowable things. But them? They’ve been feeling too? 

You chide yourself for thinking in such a small sense. How egocentric of you to think that you were the only one with an inner world like this. Of course they’re affected by all of this. Of course they have feelings too. But for you? For each other?

It’s not a new realization, but it is one that strikes you. Makes you look at them through a new lens. The room is silent as each of you take in the others, unspeakable thoughts flashing behind each of your eyes. 

“We’re all friends. We’ve been friends forever. I think it’d be stupid to think that adding sex into our dynamic wouldn’t stir things up. From the past. Even new things, too. But we can’t do this if we aren’t on the same page, or at the very least, can’t communicate.” Jimin shoots Hoseok a look at that statement. “We have to be committed to communication, and we have to be committed to making sure each of us are doing okay within this situation.” He looks around at all of you. 

“I want this,” you say suddenly. “I’m not ready to give this up, whatever it is.” 

Several people around the table nod: Yoongi, Jungkook, and to your surprise, Namjoon. 

“I feel like I understand where Hobi is coming from,” Jungkook adds, reaching across the table to take Hoseok’s hand. “I feel messy. On the inside. Like if I ask for what I want I’m going to ruin something.” 

Hoseok nods understandingly. 

“That’s not an easy thing to say, Kookie,” Jimin says softly. “Thank you for sharing that. And Hoseok—I don’t mean to be so harsh on you. I just… I don’t want to see any of us hurt. And I saw one of our friends hurting.”

Hoseok nods. “I know. And I’m really sorry.”  

“I want to stick with this and see what comes out of it,” you say. “Even if it’s difficult. Even if we need to find new ways to communicate with one another.” 

“How does everyone feel about this?” Yoongi asks. 

Everyone around the table nods in agreement with you. 

“Jin, Taehyung, you’ve been awfully silent throughout this conversation,” Yoongi notices. 

The couple exchanges a look. “I can’t speak for Jin, but I hardly knew any of this was going on,” Taehyung says. “We’ve been a little bit in our own bubble the past couple of days. But I think that speaks to a need for us to be more involved, anyways. More present.” Jin nods, like he agrees. 

“That’s probably true,” Yoongi says. 

Jin clears his throat. “I’m going to add something. Since we added sex to this relationship, to these relationships, I don’t think we can just assume that sex and the rules of sex only stay within the boundaries of the bedroom. For god's sake, Yoongi sucked Namjoon off in the kitchen.” You and Jungkook exchange a glance and at that moment you know that he too is thinking about all of your shared kitchen escapades. 

“And vice versa,” Taehyung corrects. 

Jin chuckles. “And vice versa, yes. That means that consent and communication are just as important outside of this metaphorical bedroom as they are inside. If any of you feel like you can’t communicate something, you either need to figure out how to, ask for help, or remove yourself from the situation. We can’t be messing around with that.” 

Everyone nods seriously. 

“Jungkook, you’ve been quiet too. Do you have anything to add?” 

Jungkook smiles sheepishly. “I think I’d just like to be included a little more? I know it’s only been a couple of days but… I felt a little bit like I was forgotten.” 

Jin grabs his shoulder. “Don’t worry. We got you.” 

Jungkook grins back. “Thanks, hyung.” 

“Alright,” Jimin says. “Then we’ll put it to a vote. All in favor of continuing this… thing?” 

Everyone around the table raises their hands. 

“Then it’s settled.” 

A spark of joy lights in your chest. It’s not over. Not yet. 

“I think I’m ready for that hike, if you are,” Hoseok says, a smile lighting his eyes, as breakfast finishes up. Someone else is on kitchen duty, thank goodness, and you have the day all to yourself. He takes your hands in his own, gripping your fingers tightly between his. “I mean it when I say it: I’m so sorry. I should have never let the situation get away from me the way I did. But I know what I did wrong now. And I won’t let it happen again.” 

You smile up at him, and bring your hand to cup his cheek. It feels easy. Maybe too easy.

“I forgive you. And I’m sorry, I’m sorry for not kissing you.” 

“It’s okay.” He turns and begins to make his way towards the door where your shoes are. “You can make it better, anyways.” 

“What? Make it better?” You hurry up to him. 

“Yeah. Like this.” He captures your lips with his, his hand winding around your back to pull you close. It’s a soft, sweet kiss, and when he pulls away, he’s grinning from ear to ear. “I don’t know if that’s ever going to get old.” 

You turn your head only to find Jungkook staring at you guys, jaw hanging open.

“Jungkook—” 

“I’m going to find Jin hyung. Take him up on his offer.” Jungkook hurries away. 

Hoseok chuckles. “Jungkook’s going to have the ride of his life if Jin is the one he’s searching out.” 

“I wonder if it’s not only Jin he’s excited to see though,” you muse. “There was something there with Taehyung that night too.” 

At the mention of that night, Hoseok flushes, like an innocent flower. 

“Do you get shy when I mention that?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Why?” 

“Never thought I’d be talking about that kind of stuff with you.” 

You scoff. “We hardly did any talking that night.” 

“Talking, or, you know. The other stuff.” 

You sidle up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “What other stuff?” you ask innocently, wanting to push him. 

He flushes a little. “Um. You know. Sex.” 

“Or Jin sucking you off.” 

He coughs. “Or, yeah, uh, that.” 

You laugh, slip on your shoes, and press out of the side door. 

“C’mon loser. Let’s go.” 

Winter teases the edge of the mountains, frost coating the ground, an icy chill whispering in the air. But the trees still hang onto their leaves, reds and the burning golds of the aspens making the world look like it’s lit aflame. 

Outside, Hoseok seems to come to life again, his body resetting in the chill of the winter air. Born again, even as the plants die. Despite his vigor, you notice a quietness that settles around him as he looks back at the house disappearing behind him. 

“Hobi—Are you okay?” you ask, as you begin up the steep trail. The house itself is located at the base of several peaks, and this is one you haven’t trekked up yet. 

Hoseok nods, swallowing heavily. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.” 

“What’s going on in your head, then?”

He pauses for a moment before answering: “There was one point in the conversation where I was worried that they—Yoongi especially—they were trying to push me out of the group or something, but I realized that they’re just trying to protect you.” 

“Hobi. No one wants you out of the group. Especially not me.” 

He smiles at you for that, and offers his elbow to you. You slip your hand through. 

“Jimin and Yoongi can be so singularly focused sometimes. But I know they were just worried. I know they love you.” 

Hoseok nods several times, like he’s processing what you’re saying. “What about you, darling?” Hoseok asks, turning his head to you. “How are you feeling? I know it was your suggestion that we keep this casual.” 

Your jaw twitches a little at that. “Um. I...” You trail off, your gaze going blank over the beautiful scenery before you. “In all honesty, Hobi, it makes me a little scared.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I understand the logic. That we need to broaden the parameters of our relationship. That we already love each other, that we all have expectations and feelings and thoughts about the situation, and that casual sex and all that just don’t work together. But I’m having a hard time not feeling scared of it all.”

Hoseok nods. “What is it that you’re afraid of?”

“I’m afraid if I let go of my feelings that everything will come crashing down,” you whisper, as if by speaking any louder the words themselves will usher ill-will into your world. Your throat is a little tight.

“What are your feelings?” Hoseok asks. 

“God, I don’t even know,” you laugh. 

“Try.” 

You take a deep, shaky breath, your footsteps coming slower as you think hard. 

“God, there’s so many.” 

“Just one then.” 

You look at him. Really look at him. The weariness of his face, the hope fluttering there, in the corner of his eye, the intensity and care with which he gazes at you with. “There’s you. And there’s this knowing that I want to be close to you.” You take a deep breath. “Closer to you.”

Hoseok laughs. “That’s a thought, silly.” 

“Alright,” you say determinately. You let loose a long breath. “I feel regret. Regret that I didn’t kiss you the way I wanted to. That I didn’t make you feel wanted in the way that I wanted you. Anyways, that’s all so serious. We don’t have to be so serious.”

Even as you say it though, there’s an underlying sea of tension between you. Because you have talked about the missing kiss, you’ve talked about the sex, you’ve worked that all out. But neither of you are mentioning exactly where it all started: the night you kissed him for the first time. It hangs between you, large and unspoken. And yet all too tender to speak of. 

“You could make it up to me, you know.” There’s a devilish glint in his eyes. His hand catches in yours and he tugs you to his chest. “Can I kiss you now?” 

“I thought you’d never ask.” 

He kisses you soft and slowly, like he’s taking his time with you, like there’s no rush to urge him forward or responsibility waiting on the other side for him. He kisses you like you’re his, like he’s tasting you for the first time, like you’re something sweet and all his to savor. 

He’s a fucking good kisser. And truthfully, it’s nothing like your first kiss with him, that awkward, clunking thing. 

You pull back and grin at him. 

“You’re a good kisser.” 

As you smile at him, you realize: It feels normal again. Like old times, the two of you traipsing through the city together, arm in arm, wrecking havoc wherever you go. 

“Hobi! Look! The view!” Right over his shoulder lies an incredible overlook, you’re not sure how you didn’t notice it before. Beneath you, the mountains sprawl in valleys and peaks, an ocean aflame. You’ve never seen anything like it. You run up to the edge of the cliff, the gravel beneath your feet slipping a little. You stumble once, but right yourself. 

“Hey! Be careful!” Hoseok calls from behind you. 

“I am! I am!” you call back, looking over your shoulder at him. He’s grinning at you, taking his time as he picks over the rocks to get to the edge like you are. But with your gaze distracted, as you near the edge of the cliff your foot slips out from under you. You are falling to the ground, feet flailing before you. 

You hit the earth with a clunk, an “oof” leaving your chest involuntarily. But your body doesn’t stop. With the slight incline, it continues to slide forward, rolling over the little rocks and dust. You try to grasp onto anything near to you, with no luck, sand, bits of gravel sifting through your fingers, digging underneath your fingernails. The ground rushes past you. You clamber for anything. You’re falling. You’re falling towards the cliff. 

Your legs go over first, then your torso. It happens in slow motion, adrenaline spiking fire through your body. That’s when you come alive. You flip over, hands grasping onto the ledge, stopping your fall. 

The scattering of rocks falling beneath you is the only sound in the entire world. 

“No!” Hoseok screams, his voice still so far away. But the sound of him, the ragged edge of a torn voice—it cuts right through you.

You’re terrified for him, terrified he’s going to slip and fall and go over the edge like you, but you need him. You need him. The wind howls beneath you, your heartbeat stuck in your ears, pounding. 

The wall of the cliff retreats slightly beneath the ledge, leaving nothing for you to get a foothold on. 

You’re going to die. 

For a moment it all flashes before you, Hoseok screaming for help when you go, him sprinting down the trail to the house, your friends faces when they hear. You’re not ready. You’re not ready to go. 

Your breath is stuck in your throat. There’s nothing left in you to call his name. But he sees you, he sees you, and he’s tripping over himself to get to you.

“Be careful!” you manage to cry out, and he slows down, picking his way carefully towards you. His hands are clenched into sweaty fists, the terror in his gaze bleeding into yours as he hurries towards you. “But fucking hurry! I can’t—” 

Your fingers slip just enough for you to yelp. 

“Hobi! Please!” 

He reaches you then, bending down. He grips your wrist with one of his hands and with the other, grabs onto a small tree. His hands are shaking, his breath uneven. 

“On three, I’m going to lift.” His eyes bore into yours, his voice mysteriously calm. It gives you direction. It gives you hope. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay. One. Two. Three.” With a grunt, he uses the leverage of the tree to begin pulling you up. 

You kick your legs and the best you can, begin to house yourself up. It’s messy, uncoordinated work, but you manage to hoist an arm over the top, then a knee. With Hoseok’s help you scramble over the ledge, your breath coming hard, your head hanging between your shoulders as you pant on all fours.

He doesn’t let go of you, hand wrapped painfully tight around your wrist. He tugs you forward, away from the edge, and you scuttle after him, pushing as far away as you can. “Come on, come on,” he urges, until you collapse in his arms. 

“What the hell just happened?” 

You reach for him with the hand he isn’t already holding, grip his hand tightly. With both hands around yours, you feel bound to him physically, even as your body still swings in the sensation of hanging by a thread.  

“Fuck.” He wipes his hand over his face, your hand going with it. “I thought you were gone.” 

His body shudders beneath yours.

“I’m not though—” 

“But I thought you were. I thought you’d fallen. I thought—” His voice chokes up. “And then I saw your hands, grabbing on and oh my god. But I thought you were gone. I really did.” The look in his eyes is one of absolute grief.

“I’m okay, Hoseok,” you say gently. 

He shakes his head. “Fuck, I’m the one supposed to be comforting you. Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He begins patting you down, looking for injuries. 

“I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.” But you’re not. Your throat wells up, closes around you. You grip onto his hand even tighter, stopping his movements. “God,” you hiss, as the tears start to well up in your eyes. You wipe them furiously away with the back of your hand. 

“Come here, let's get you away from that edge.” 

He pulls you to your feet, nearly dragging you away from where you were sitting three feet away from the edge while your body freezes up. He pulls you all the way to the trail, where the ground is firmer, flatter. You find your footing. You just stand there. 

He wraps himself around you. You’re there, wrapped up in him, just breathing. This goes on for you’re not sure how long. And then slowly your body begins to relax. To melt into him. Your fingers come back to life first, flickering, finding purchase in his jacket, tangling in the fabric and pulling him closer. Your breath syncs up with his while you let loose little sobs, your face pressed into the nook between his neck and his shoulder. Slowly, your body feels like your body again. 

“I don’t want to lose you,” he murmurs into your hair. “I can’t lose you.”

“I don’t wanna lose you either,” you mumble back, taking a big sniff. “God, what the fuck is going on here, first the bear, then the forest, now this?” 

“The forest?” Hoseok pulls back just enough to look at you, a puzzled expression settling on his face. 

You shake your head. You don’t want to talk about it. You don’t want to have to explain. You don’t want him to think that you’re crazy. 

You bury your face in his neck once more, squeezing him so tight you’re sure it must hurt. But he just squeezes you back. Holds you like you’re the only thing left in the world. 

“Do you want to go back now?” 

“I need—I need to sit. Just for a little bit.” 

He nods and you both settle against the trunk of a very large tree. He doesn’t let go of your hand, though. He keeps it held tight in his lap, both hands surrounding yours. He looks at you, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he does, a look of concern flickering across his face. 

“You’re safe now,” he whispers. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

You close your eyes. Knock your head back against the tree. Stare up at the webbed pattern of the evergreen above you, the way the blue sky flickers through it. That’s when it wells up. That’s when it comes. 

Tears, spilling down your face, silently. 

It’s like you’ve been cracked open. 

Everything comes to the surface. 

It washes over you like a stormy ocean, the waves at the surface thrashing, the depths holding a deep, deep chill that you can’t escape. 

Sometimes there’s a grief in you that rises to the surface. It comes burbling out of you like a secret pool, hidden away in the vast sprawl of mountains. It comes like the moonlight when the sky is clear, splitting through the night, unjarrable. It comes like poison: green and viscous and spilling out of you. You can’t swipe a hand through it, can’t stop the flow of it when it comes. There’s only one way out: through. 

You’ll let the tears sit like window boxes of peonies before they spill out into the yard. But now they’re pouring. 

“Hey, hey.” Hoseok repositions himself so that he’s between your legs, hugging you, wrapped around you. “It’s okay to let it out. It's okay.”

You nod into his shoulder, tears streaming down your face. 

“I don’t wanna go. Not anymore.” 

“I know, I know. It’s not your time. It’s not nearly your time.” And then he pauses at your words, really takes them in. His eyes widen in understanding, noticing the current beneath your words. He whispers your name. “Was there a time when you were? Wanting to go?” 

You blink up at him through watery eyes. You nod. 

“Shit,” he curses. “I didn’t know.” 

“I hardly knew.” 

“You didn’t—you wouldn’t—?” 

You shake your head. 

“No. I wouldn’t. But the thought was there.” 

“What happened? When was this?” His whisper tears at the edges, like he’s falling apart with you. 

The words come with the tears, tumbling out of you, welling up from that dark, deep place you can’t and won’t name. “I didn’t want to be here any more. There was a part of me that just wanted to disappear. To stop being.” You squeeze your eyes shut, and Hoesok’s grip on you tightens. The tears come quicker with the words, like you’re finally letting the thing out that you have been holding back for so long. That you’ve been too afraid to even admit to yourself. It rises like an interruption to the narrative you’ve built around yourself, but you can’t hold it back. Not anymore. The truth feels rattled from its cage. “Quarantine was harder than I thought it would be. The loneliness. It was so much. Nothing like I ever knew before. I just—” You choke on a sob. “I feel so lucky to be here with you all again. Like there’s light again. Like there’s living again.” 

At the very beginning, when everything had come screeching to a halt, you had thought you were fine. But the monotony of life, the ensnaring of your life, the locked door, the world shut down beyond your fingertips—it had left you feeling like nothing more than a wild animal trapped in a cage. It wasn’t just a physical feeling. It was in your head. It settled in your very bones. 

You’d begun to spiral. That’s when the thoughts set in, green and dark and deadened, like rotting leaves. They covered the floor of your mind, so that there was no escaping them. 

“Shit,” Hoesok curses, and when he says your name, it’s with all the ache in the world. “I wish I had known. I wish you felt safe enough to tell me.” 

“I think I needed to put myself away from everyone,” you whisper. “It was so hard to tell anyone. I thought… I thought that you all would see me differently if I told you.” You take in a shaky breath. “But I did get help. I went to the doctors. I went to therapy. Wasn’t an easy fix, but it helped a lot.”  It had been a week after the thoughts had set in—just a week, though it had felt like ages longer—before you’d gone to Namjoon. He’d helped you, held you, gotten you to the right doctors and the right therapists. He’d taken all of the work out of your hands so that you hadn’t had to worry about a single thing. All you had to do was show up. 

And he hadn’t let it change a thing in your relationship. He was still there, a comforting presence, in your life. He asked you what you needed, but he didn’t treat you like something broken. You especially appreciated this when you arrived at the mountain house, because it felt like you could have a new start, a fresh beginning, where you could leave this safely in the past. 

But these things, these things don’t leave a body easily. That much is true. Coming back to an apartment with a lock on the door and a quiet world outside didn’t make things any easier. But things had slowly begun to shift. And ever since you had arrived at Namjoon’s mountain house, things felt like they were catalyzing. Like you were changing, for the better. Like instead of dust, light was coming through your cracks. 

Hoseok grips your hands, a look of deep seriousness falling over his face. 

“I—I don’t want to do it alone anymore,” you say. You sniffle and pull a hand away from him to wipe at your face. “Can I ask you something? Can I ask a promise of you?” 

“Anything,” Hoseok says, and he seems like he means it.

“If it happens again, I want to know that you’ll be there. That you’ll be here for me.” 

It’s Hoseok’s turn to choke up. “I’m so sorry I ever made you think I couldn’t be there for you, I’m so sorry—” 

“Hoseok, I don’t need you to be sorry, I just need to know.” 

He nods, wiping at his eyes. “Of course. Of course I’ll be there for you.” He sniffles. “And we can make it easy too. We can have a code word. If you feel it coming on, you can just text me ‘peanut butter.’ And we’ll take care of you. We’ll get you back.” 

You nod, the tears beginning to slow. 

“I love you, Hobi. I really do.” 

“I know.” 

He’s so close to you now, his eyes pressing into yours, a deep look of concern on his face. 

He’s so close to you now, his eyes pressing into yours, a deep look of concern on his face. 

You don’t know what comes over you, but you press your lips to his. 

He tastes like the sea. 

He stills with shock, going still beneath your touch. But then his hands come to your face, fingertips dragging through your tears as he cups your cheeks, thumbs wiping away the wetness. He kisses you back, a slowness to your desperation. 

A massive confession, a near death experience—the adrenaline floods through you at a breakneck pace. Your body zings with energy, sparking at the tips of your fingers, and it feels like the only way out is through, well, him.

“I need you,” you say, tears spilling from your eyes. You’re not sure why you’re so emotional, and yet you can’t stop it, can’t stop the small hiccups that wrack your body, can’t stop the yearning that fills your chest, desperate, desperate to be satiated. 

His eyes are wet too as he meets your lips, hands cupping your face as he squeezes his eyes closed and kisses you. 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’ve been needing you,” you admit, sniffing. “God, I must look so gross right now.” 

“No, no, absolutely not.” He pulls away just enough to wipe away the beading tears that are gathering  at your water line. The touch is so tender your eyes well up once more. “You don’t look gross. You look human. You look alive. And that’s what matters.” 

“I feel like a boulder in athletic clothes.” 

He laughs at that. “Then let me make you feel different.” 

You sniffle. “Yeah.” 

Slowly, he rolls the both of you over so you’re on top of him, straddling him. 

“You’re a certain kind of lovely,” he says, whispering your name at the end of the sentence. “A kind of lovely that even with tears all over you and a good bit of dirt on your face, doesn’t disappear.” Your fingers come up to your face, where the dirt must be. He grabs your hands. “Don’t worry about it.” He kisses your lips. “Don’t worry about it.” He kisses your jawline. ”Don’t worry—“ He bites down on your earlobe and you arch into him. He grunts, as your core presses against his length. 

A gasp rattles through you as you realize what’s beneath you. Between your legs. 

“You’re so hard.” 

“Touch it—if you want.” 

You reach between your legs, letting your hand rest against him, squeezing, before running your hand up and down the length of him. There’s something about this all, the over-the-clothes setup, the rawness in your chest that makes this feel like you’re much younger, like you’re doing something like this for the first time. Or maybe it’s just Hoseok. 

Hoseok takes the opportunity of your distracted mind to bite down on your earlobe again before sucking it into his mouth ever-so gently. You gasp, and your hand slips from him, coming to his neck, tilting his head. You kiss him furiously, angrily even. 

How dare he make you feel like this. 

You can feel a dampness growing between your legs, knowing it’ll stain the panties that you—against Jimin’s rules—decided to slip on today. And you’re glad you’re wearing them for once, worried you’ll sink through the layers of clothes you have on and onto Hoseok. Though, when you dripped onto Namjoon, he hardly seemed to mind.

Knees pressed into the dirt, your body feels like it begins to come back to you. It’s slow at first. The regaining of feeling in your fingertips, Hoseok’s skin beneath your touch, and then it’s the discomfort of small rocks pressing into your legs, a discomfort which is quickly overridden by the firm pressure of being held by the earth, of being held by Hoseok. 

With your center pressed to him, you begin to grind against him, slowly at first, just unhurried dragging against his cock. He moans into your mouth. But today is anything but slow, meandering, and your pace soon quickens into a desperate grind. 

His hands come down to your hips, fingers searching through the layers of clothes for your skin.

“N-need you, Hoseok—“ you gasp, as the tip of his cock presses against your clit. It’s a dull pleasure, one that’s building quickly though. 

His hands are pulling at your clothes, and your leggings are being pulled down your legs. Your hands drift from his face to his pants, where you unbutton them. There’s an uncoordinated moment as both of you shimmy and jolt, trying to work your pants down. You both get about halfway–one leg out of your leggings, his pants down to his knees–before his lips are on yours again, his hands on your face, pulling you closer. 

Not before you catch a glance of the bulge straining against the very limits of his boxer-briefs. 

You sink down on top of him, your panties coming into contact with his cock, his hardened length sliding perfectly against your covered cunt. 

His hands meet your hips once more. “Move your hips, like this,” he demonstrates, grinding your hips down upon himself. “Back and forth.” 

You laugh. “Hobi, I know how to.” 

“But don’t you wanna know how I like it?” He smiles up at you, a shit-eating grin on his face. “And then you can show me just how you like it.” 

“I like it like…” You’re not entirely sure, trying to think back to the last time you grinded against someone like this, your clothes still on. You think it must have been with Taehyung, in the back of his car, when you were younger, much younger, scrambling your way through college. So you test out several different motions with your hips until you find exactly the one that works for you.

“Like this.”

With the tip of his cock pressing against your clit, it’s not long before a strangled moan makes its way out of your throat. He swallows it up like it’s his own. 

There’s a certain kind of power to having Hoseok shuddering beneath you. A kind of thrill. Joy, even. 

“F-fuck, Hobi,” you gaps, falling forwards so your lips meet again. As you kiss, his hips begin to buck up against yours. The movement feigns sex, and it feels even more desperate, more depraved than sex itself. 

You pull him up so his chest is slotted against yours, your arms wrung around his neck. The both of you are panting in tandem, a breath in with a breath out. You squeeze your eyes shut as your orgasm nears. 

It’s a kind of warm bleed, golden and burning through your body. You cry out as you come, and he’s not long behind you, gasping into your mouth, hands gripping tightly onto your hips as he holds you against his cock. 

The comedown is slow. Foreheads tipped together, you stay like that for who knows how long. That’s when you notice: your tears have dried, leaving your body tired through and through, as if you’ve been wrung out like a wet towel. 

“You’re special to me,” Hoseok says. “You’re really special. I don’t want you going anywhere.” 

You nod. 

“I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” 

And you know you mean it in all the ways that you could say it.

Hoseok helps you to your feet, personally pulling your leggings up for you, a move which is both sweet and a little funny to you. He does this before fixing himself up. You think he can’t be comfortable like that, come in his underwear, but he doesn’t say anything about it. Instead, he just swings an arm over your shoulder and kisses your cheek. 

“Let’s get you home. I think there’s a conversation to be had between all of us.” 

The hike down to the house is longer than you remembered it. As you step out of the forest, you can’t help but look back over your shoulder. 

“Why can’t I go outside and it be normal?” you mumble, more to yourself than to anyone else. 

“Hm?” Hoseok hums. 

“Nothing.” 

As you step into the house, one thing is clear to you: Your tango with death seems to have left you with a new vigor. You’re not giving this up. Not unless God wrangles it personally from your hands. You grip onto Hobi’s hand even tighter.

← || series m.list || →

©wwilloww Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without my permission.

THANK YOU FOR READING! 🔆 if you enjoyed this, please consider telling me what you think by leaving a comment, sending an ask, or reblogging! i love chatting with you all! 🔆 want to read more stories?

PERMANENT TAG LIST @spicykoreantatertots @usuallynervoussheep @myimaginationsrunningwild @lucedelsole97 @yoong-i @kookieskiwi @ries-universe @minyoongiboongi @shameless-army @frisianqueen @emmmui @rm4lyf @kelly-luvya @baby-g @madseok @elyte @twobirdsinabox @peonymoonchild @sweetmustardleduc @rkivian @boubourella @sugalaritae @herecomesjoon @hopelesslylivv @parkdatjimin @blairscott

[cersworld]

cast: idol!sunghoon x reader ft. enhypen, txt, stray kids, etc.

what happens when your crush and ‘friend’ start dating on what was supposed to be a good day? you go for a long walk and come home with a bag full of empty wrappers and a new found friendship with a random guy you found crying in a park at half past one in the morning, on a weekday, in the middle of winter. what could possibly go wrong? nothing. (read: everything)

genre(s): fluff, angst, crack?, written and social media au, idol au

warning(s): a lot of swearing, mentions of bad mental health and mental health conditions, mentions of injuries, mentions of food, toxic friend(s), etc.

status: completed!

a/n: hello~ since this is my first work i would absolutely love any feedback that anyone is willing to give. also, please let me know if you think that i should add any trigger warnings to any specific chapters, since this work does discuss some heavy topics. thank you and enjoy!

SEQUEL OUT NOW!

profiles: one two three

scene one: y/n vs. the world

scene two: ¿crying old man?

scene three: nice but forgetful

scene four: what even?!

scene five: deep shit indeed

scene six: frappe = love

scene seven: fake friends *hiss*

scene eight: not just a jacket?

scene eight, part two: literally just a jacket

scene nine: bugs and hair

scene ten: new plan?

scene eleven: double damnit aka falling

scene eleven, part two: jake's steak

scene twelve: why so defensive, shawty?

scene thirteen: hoon shooting his shot

scene thirteen, part two: shot shooted?!

scene fourteen: y/n's villain origin story

scene fifteen: the aftermath of a shitshow

scene sixteen: hyun & addy = bad actors

scene seventeen: the big reveal

scene eighteen: bruises and guilt

scene nineteen: apology pizookie

scene nineteen, part two: sh = pick me 4 y/n

scene twenty: what if we kissed? (jk, unless)

scene twenty one: y/n ft. her stalkers

scene twenty two: caught? (birthday)

scene twenty three: guitar classics

scene twenty three, part two: famous gf?!

scene twenty four: felix finds out

scene twenty four, part two: why me??

scene twenty five: graduation (drunk)

scene twenty five, part two: bf appreciation

scene twenty six: icky cookies?

scene twenty seven: always

scene twenty eight: leaving

scene twenty nine: timeskip

scene twenty nine, part two: fame

scene thirty: the call

scene thirty one: 'fight' (warning: lame)

scene thiry two: if only he knew......

scene thirty three: beomgyu tries his best

scene thirty four: dating ban

scene thirty five (ending scene): exposé

[yeonjunszn]

𝐦𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 — 𝟐𝟎

pairing: nishimura riki x f!reader

summary: as the captains of the girls and boys dance teams respectively, you and nishimura riki have a mutual hatred for one another. to you, he’s cocky and self centered. to him, you’re constantly stealing his spotlight without hesitation. but when a rumor goes around that you did some… questionable things… with the captain of the lacrosse team, riki finds that maybe— just maybe— he doesn’t hate you that much after all.

⇦ nineteen. | twenty one. ⇨

masterlist

— WE HIT TWENTY CHAPTERS LETS GOOOOO 💪 after this smau is finished, i have a couple ideas for another one even though i also have cipher to start el oh el

𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲: 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫

taglist: @clar-iii @stayriki @wonieleles @certainyouthpeanut @manaswi-madhusudan @hrtattcker @lil-iva @aachillies @echantedrose @gardeniki @nomniki @itzz-me-duh @omgjwon @catecita @strwberrydinosaur @rikiflowers @lov3niki @emoworu @rosiefaeriee @katzriot @wonyoluvie @ni-sh

(send an ask to join!)

[jjuxii]

CHAPTER NINETEEN : HATRED

Two days before the competition, Y/N nervously waited for the doctor to give a final check on her ankle. Ever since her ankle got kicked by a certain someone, she thought that it made her injury worse.

Thankfully it didn’t. She felt better and stronger. This was her last hope, if she doesn’t practice within 2 days then she might lose this competition. All she needs was a confirmation by the doctor.

“It seems like your ankle has been healed Y/N. You’re lucky that it was a fast recovery”. Y/N sighed in relief. Maybe luck is with her after all. She went outside the clinic full of hope and a smile in her face.. until she met a certain someone she tried to avoid.

Beomgyu.

The intense eye contact, the way Y/N almost halted by her steps, they felt like strangers again. Instead of being met by a smile every time they see each other, Beomgyu gave her a glare full of anger.

Did I hurt him?

masterlist | chapter twenty

being able to have the opportunity to be one of the exchange students in arcadia academy especially at this year’s annual sports event and districts has it’s great perks and benefits for y/n until she spilt coffee on the soccer captain’s new soccer shoes.

taglist : @darrensos @letmeal0ne​ @yeonyeonyeonjun @day6andetcetera @stephsfav @ni-sh @pr0dbeomgyu @yurhrt @ashxxkook @tsookies @strawbrinkofdeath @chonjaeidol @junqwonni @igotkpoops @tonightletspretend @sfthyuka @kaeslily @butterflyy-ningg @magicalstudentwhispers @snert-bees @cherrybeomgyu @theyurina @dumwifi @chiefturtlebonkghost @i-yeseo @soobsfairy444 | gen taglist: @juniblvssom @wccycc @enhacolor send an ask or a message to be added (bolded cannot be tagged)

[cutebutalsostabby]

WIP Saturday

I know it's not WIP Wednesday, but have a cracky snapshot anyway, since a) I have to write a bunch of bridging stuff before I get to this section and I'm way too impatient, and b) this may end up getting edited out if I take a different direction with the plot and/or tone.

Potential spoilers for my current multi-chapter LU fic. Contains swearing, as per usual for me.

-----------------------------------

‘I’m – I’m not that small,’ Legend protested. ‘I mean, sure: by Hylian standards, I’m not huge right now. But compared to other rabbits, I’m enormous.’

‘Tiny,’ Hyrule said intently. ‘Absolutely miniscule. Pocket-sized.’

‘Bite-sized?’ Wild suggested helpfully.

‘What?!’ yelped Legend.

‘Yes! Exactly!’ Hyrule said emphatically. ‘Bite-sized! I could just gobble you up and swallow you in a single mouthful! You! Are jusht! Sho shmol!’

‘Are you – are you actually baby-talking me right now?!’ Legend sputtered. ‘Sh-show some fucking respect for your elders! Sure, I may not look all that impressive right now, but I’m still your damn predecessor, I’m still –’

‘Nineteen years old,’ Time reminded him.

‘He’s only sixteen!’

‘You’re both children,’ the thirty-something-year-old concluded. ‘And in Hyrule’s defence: you cried the first time you saw his fairy form.’

‘I didn’t cry!’ snapped Legend.

‘You definitely cried,’ disputed Hyrule.

‘I…’ Legend faltered. ‘I mean, maybe a little. Not much. I didn’t cry that much.’

‘You cried a lot,’ said Hyrule. ‘An outrageous amount. A medically improbable amount. Frankly, I thought you were dying for a moment there. I thought maybe your brain liquefied and started seeping out through your tear ducts or something. That’s how much you cried. Being the Hero of Legend and all, I guess you don’t do anything by halves, and you definitely didn’t do that whole crying fit by half.’

‘Well – I – that is – perfectly reasonable and measured reaction to – I mean –’ Legend sputtered. ‘What are you even supposed to do in that situation but cry? When your precious little successor, who looks up to you like you’re a worthy and respectable predecessor and not just a giant pile of shit, when he goes from being an already unbelievably adorable puppy-dog-eyed Hylian to a teeny, tiny fairy in a pink dress with a little dandelion poof wand and with cute little antennae and little sparkly wings, what are you supposed to do but cry? I mean: shit’s cute, right? I’m not weird for thinking that. You’d have to be pretty fucked up to not think that. We all love Hyrule, right? Right?!’

‘I do love Hyrule,’ Time agreed solemnly.

‘I also love Hyrule,’ Wild chimed in.

Twilight barked his assent.

‘We all love Hyrule!’ Legend reiterated. ‘I mean, imagine being the kind of person who looks at a sweet kid like Hyrule and doesn’t immediately think, “wow, if anything ever happened to you I’d destroy the whole world and everything living in it including myself”. Imagine being someone as joyless and soulless as that. Couldn’t fucking be me. Am I right?’

‘I do love Hyrule,’ Wild mused.

‘Hmm,’ said Time. Twilight gave a less enthusiastic bark.

‘We all love Hyrule!’ raged Legend.