#she's my everything <3 i scribble hearts next to her name in my notes ok.

[malewifezevran]

IREENA KOLYANA YOU WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS

[4joonkookie]

27 Candles

💜 Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

💜 Words: 3.5K

💜 Summary:

A 12 hour diary of Namjoon’s 27th birthday.

💜 Tags/Warnings:

Smut, angst, breakup, DaddyJoon, Dom/sub, Daddykink, collars, Daddy/Babygirl, birthday sex, breakup sex, makeup sex, blindfolded sex, butt play, rough sex, spanking, riding, grinding, dirty talk, back scratching, fluff, Happy Birthday to the only man I’d call Daddy, not beta read, wish I had more time.

2:30 PM

After spending hours agonizing over your approach, you call Namjoon to wish him a happy birthday. It’s been a while since you’ve heard his voice. The low rumble sends vibrations through your body.

“We should celebrate,” you insist, exposing your ulterior motive.

“What do you want to do?” he muses.

You're quiet for a while, then take a deep breath.

“It's your birthday. I want you to tell me.”

The request is bold, but subtle enough. He lets out a low laugh, a knowing one, and clears his throat.

“Yeah?” his voice lowers, probably in an area with others. “You wanna be my good girl? Be good to me?”

“Yes,” you reply, just as low though, no one is around you. “I want you to have what you want for your birthday.”

Arousal pools in your belly while you fidget with your nervous hands.

“I like that idea,” he hums. “So I'll come by the apartment when I'm done?”

“No,” you assert, disrupting your compliance. “Can I see your new place?”.

He’s had his own place for over a month now but the place you shared is still “the apartment”.

“Sure, there’s not much there. It’s basically empty,” he replies.

You assure him that's just fine. Adjusting to living in “the” apartment without him has been hard enough. A new, less familiar place might make it easier. A place not-so-lived-in.

A place he can’t leave you again.

He’s quiet for a long time again before speaking.

“Is this a good idea?��� he asks, in the exhale of a heavy sigh. His tone has changed, reality settling in.

“No,” you confirm, shaking your head although you’re alone.

The line is hushed, again. The silence is heavy with all of the unspoken “I miss you”, “I need you”, “something is missing without you”.

You both know where this goes, neither having the strength to step away.

3:37 PM

When the elevators open to his apartment corridor, there is a young woman kneeling at the door. Heart pounding, you walk slowly, keeping your head down and avoid eye contact altogether when she stands and begins to walk toward you. You quickly turn your head and breathe a sigh of relief to see her disappear behind the elevator doors.

A decorative basket sits at the front doorstep. You snatch it up, enter the lock code quickly and shut the door behind you.

The basket holds a bottle of champagne on dry ice. Also, a pair of lace panties. Two fixture items, surrounded by decorative flowers, candies and a notecard.

The note is a handwritten message about missing Namjoon on his birthday and a promise of wearing the panties “next time”; a drawn heart and scribbled name.

You open the champagne, chug from the bottle and toss the rest to the trash, attempting to discard the jealousy panging in your gut.

The breakup was two months ago. You hadn’t exactly agreed to “be friends”, it just happened. Though, you haven’t seen each other in person since he moved his things out.

You take in the view of the place. It’s enormously empty. The refrigerator and cabinets are empty, a layer of dust covering the bottom of the inside. A laptop and recording equipment are the only things set up in the living room alongside a couch. The Bedroom has no walls and sits on a raised platform in the living room, a total bachelor pad. Condom wrappers lay on the bedside table near the unmade bed. The bathroom counter, cluttered with his products and potions. You pick up the bottles one by one, searching for what’s new about him. Finally, the closet. You choose a shirt and to put on and discard everything else.

Your phone buzzes, Namjoon saying he’ll be there in about an hour. It’s sooner than you thought but you order groceries anyway. It always takes longer for him to get home than he says.

“Home.” You think. This isn’t home.

4:58 PM

Surprisingly on time, he arrives carrying handfuls of delivered bags.

“You bought groceries?” He uses his foot to close the door behind him.

“Yes,” you reply, removing bags from his hands. “Why don’t you have groceries? Just hire someone to do it.”

“Why hire someone when you’re willing to do it for me?”

“I didn’t,” you banter. “I hired someone to do it.” You shrug.

You close the refrigerator behind you. His phone starts to ring, he silences it.

“Where did you get champagne?” He questions.

When you casually mention the name of the woman who signed the card, he stiffens. Checks his phone, frantic.

“You talked to her?” He remains calm, but you can tell he’s uneasy.

“Yeah, I ran into her dropping this off on my way in. She’s sweet,” you string him along, feeling a little bratty “She said she wishes she could’ve seen you on your birthday.”

He gives you a long look and you hold his gaze.

“Liar!” he laughs, approaching you. His demeanor is calming, his smile relieves something in that “something is missing” category.

“How do you know her name?” He asks curiously.

You stall, not wanting to admit your resentful gesture.

“Oh there was a note, I must’ve misplaced it,” you say, appearing (hopefully-to-be) absent-minded.

He reaches a hand to peek in the trash can. Before he can, his phone rings again. He silences it immediately.

“Is that her?” You ask, casual, distracting.

He shifts uncomfortably but is honest. “We were going to meet up today. I cancelled.”

You tilt your head. “You said you didn’t have plans.”

“I didn’t,” he says plainly.

You hide a shy smile, briefly ducking your head. “And if I hadn’t invited myself over?” you tease.

“I’d be wishing you had.” He gets closer and a familiar electricity buzzes through you. He rests his hands too comfortably on your back, pulling you in, hugging you too tight, smelling your hair.

“I missed you,” He nuzzles his cheek to yours, brushing against you. The moves are slow, requainting.

His lips press against yours and you feel yourself slipping back into him. You try to shake off the feeling, remembering what you discussed on the phone.

“So, what do you want?”

He follows along, seemingly eager to take the edge off of these heavy feelings for a while too. He guides you back to the wall.

You can feel the undertones changing. His gaze darkens, your body being enclosed in his arms.

A hand moves to your bare neck, strokes the soft skin. Your heartbeat quickens. After some back and forth, you ultimately decided not to wear the collar. Not his to claim anymore, anyway. He silently acknowledges the absence of it and moves to your waist.

“It was very rude of you to throw away my things just because you’re jealous.”

“Not jealous,” you pout, and his lips drag against your neck. He bites down at your words causing you to gasp. He pins your hands above your head, against the wall while continuing work on your neck.

“Say it,” he chides. “Tell me how jealous you are that someone else can be good for me.”

Your blood boils, thinking of the woman at the door, condoms on the nightstand.

“And how many good girls do you have?” You query, calmly.

He squeezes your wrists above you. “Say it. And I'll tell you.”

You sigh heavily and give in. “Ok, I’m jealous, you admit.

He giggles between kisses on your skin. “I know.”

“So? How many?” Not giving in to his touch yet, still wanting to know.

He shrinks the grip on your wrists to one hand and uses the other to brush a finger against your lip.

“There are many girls who are good to me but I have only one good girl.”

He releases your wrists and your lips crash together, tongues passing sloppily. You drink each other in after months apart.

“Don’t move,” he instructs, and pulls away. You stand still, watching him disappear into the bedroom. He quickly reemerges with hands behind his back.

“Turn around,” he says, before he can make it all the way back to you.

Without hesitation, you turn and place both hands on the wall, bracing yourself. You feel his presence behind you and it all goes black. A silky fabric drapes over your eyes, a knot being tied just behind your head.

You reach behind yourself to grab at him. “What are you doing?!” The sudden darkness is startling, shocking.

He wraps arms tight around your body to still you.

“Shhh….,” he soothes. This is what I want.” A hand slides beneath the hem of your panties, circling fingers at your wet center, free arm holding you tight to his chest.

He raises his fingers to your lips, offering a taste of yourself.

When you release his fingers, he loosens his grasp on your body and grips a hand at the back of your neck. You straighten up on two feet.

“Walk,” he demands.

After walking a ways, your back hits the mattress.

You can’t see him but his hands are hot on your skin, traveling in unseen paths. You can hear your breath, loud. The quiet in the room is loud.

It’s dark, but the fear begins to fade. All other senses are heightened.

There is a sense of right with his hands on your skin again, lips on yours again, his scent filling your nostrils again, feeling his weight above you again.

He drags his tongue slowly down the center of your body, between your breasts, over your navel and fastens his mouth to your center making you squirm as he sucks below, arms hooked around your thighs.

He licks lovingly, skillfully, and pulls away too soon. He pulls you up by your arms and guides you to sit up.

“Show me what a good girl you are?” he whispers above you. The whisper is crystal clear, echoing in your ears.

You nod into the darkness and hear him removing clothes. Cock free, he pushes the tip to your lips and pushes in slow, to the back of your throat, holding himself there.

“No hands,” he warns. He slides out just as slowly and you do your best to control your gags.

He pushes in again, too quickly and deep. You pull away, coughing and trapping his shaft with your hand.

“No.” he pushes your hand away. He grabs your chin, prying your jaw open and pushes in again. Drool spills and tears moisten the fabric over your eyes. He grabs the back of your head and pushes it flush against his pelvis, no room for grabby hands.

You choke and back off of it, using both hands this time to remove it. You cough when he pulls out, a string of saliva still connecting you.

It’s been a while since you've done this but somehow, it’s more difficult because you can’t see.

“Bend Over,” he growls.

You turn over and feel the familiar caress over your cheek before he moves, muscle memory. He lays a hard smack and you moan, spine lighting up. You smile gleefully to yourself. A familiar warmth overtakes you.

“You’re out of practice,” he taunts, “Need to remember how to behave.”

Another hit, and you cry out again. Spanks, all the more exciting and titillating behind a blindfold.

“You want to give Daddy what he wants, you said?” you hear his voice from behind you.

You nod, zoned in on your lack of vision.

You don’t sense the next hit coming, it’s so much more intense. You’ve been punished for not using words. Without hesitation, they come spilling out.

“Yes, Daddy.”

This.

This was definitely missing. Not so much that you need to be punished but that you want to be tamed.

And no one does it like him.

He slides two fingers into you from behind. You moan and buck back, bouncing on his fingers.

He leans down to lap you, licking up from your pussy and his fingers up to your ass, prodding his tongue inside the tight muscle.

He moves away and you hear the click of a bottle. Cold lube spills over your exposed skin.

Two fingers still in your pussy, He gruffly pushes a third to your bum, pouring more lube with a free hand. He pushes to the webbing of his hand and holds it, giving you time to adjust.

“Good girl loves being filled up, huh?”

You nod before catching yourself. “Yes, Daddy.”

He adds a second finger inside, two in each opening now, scissoring and stretching you open.

You sob, everything feeling that much more intense and full in the dark.

He pulls his fingers out of your body with a lewd pop.

“Are you ready to try again?.”

“Yes.” Something clicks in your mind and has your body assuming the previous position.

The shock of the sensory change and overwhelming emotion before had you too frantic, unable to focus.

Now, bridled in just the right way, he pushes into your throat with no objections from your body, only eager acceptance.

He begins thrusting at the back of your throat. You relax your jaw and control your gags. The darkness isn’t so startling anymore. It helps you focus on controlling your muscles, a meditation almost. You grip the sheets to keep your hands away.

He pulls out and you try to even your desperate breath, swallowing pooled saliva.

He tests your compliance, pushing to the back again, using two hands to hold your head down, letting your face slide off silently.

“There she is,” he strokes your hair as you wipe your mouth. “There’s my good girl.”

The praise fuels you, feeling pleased and settled.

He turns you over again and slides inside right away, slapping hips against you. You whimper and move your body with his.

You nearly ascend when he pushes his index finger into your stretched ass while still thrusting inside.

His cock thrusts against your g spot and presses against his finger behind your walls.The repeated pressure on both sides makes your knees shake. The sound you make is almost primal, body falling limp, spiraling through an orgasm.

He frees his hands and pushes your shoulders flat to the bed to slam inside. You lay, boneless as he grunts and growls through his own orgasm.

Falling beside you, he removes the blindfold and gestures for you to lay on his chest.

He pets and strokes the places he’s left marks. He slides his thumb along your worked jaw.

You didn’t realize how badly you’ve missed this feeling of safe, being claimed again.

8:09 PM

Limbs draped together laying on the bed, Namjoon carries on about his most recent lyric-writing.

Words, spilling out a mile a minute, eyes focused outward, trying to find a lyrical solution by talking aloud.

You study him, just as you always had. The same ,familiar motions and conversation but a different background.

It’s unmistakable.

It’s not any particular location that’s “lived-in”. This place echoes with empty and still smells of fresh paint.

It’s the relationship, the vibes. You and Namjoon are lived-in.

His voice, his touch. You know it’s everything you need but know it won’t last. You broke up for a reason, a dark cloud lingering over your temporary reconnection.

You try not to think of it, letting this temporary elation carry you both to the point where you must eventually take stock of what’s happening and acknowledge that you’re worse together, no matter how good it feels right now.

Despite your silent spiral, he continues talking, unbothered. You watch him, endeared, absorbing every morsel of himself he has to offer before you part again.

Eventually, he catches himself. “Sorry, should I stop?”

You climb on top of him and snag the nearby blindfold. You playfully spread it over his mouth and a giggle erupts from underneath. You slide it up to his eyes, mimicking your position from earlier. He inhales sharply and smiles.

You take his earlobe into your mouth and suck marks to his collarbone, not caring of the consequences. He doesn’t stop you, hissing and grabbing at your hair.

You relish In taking him like this, the breakup, giving you freedom to reciprocate this notion and him, the freedom to surrender to it.

You lean down and graze your teeth over his nipples, a secret sensitive spot.

He gasps and lets out a whimper. It was beautiful. You chase it again, sucking and blowing cold air over them.

Still naked, you grasp the shaft and wrap your pussy over him, eyes rolling back at the pleasing friction.

You slide up and down, chasing the high.

He’s moaning in a way you’ve never heard, the intensity of not having vision.

Still above him, you plant a foot on the ground and slide his length inside of yourself.

Your hips move above him, slowly at first. You watch him, every pant and bead of sweat dripping. You get to see him in a way you couldn’t if he could see you back.

Soon, it feels too good, dick rocking right on your spot, fast and deep. He moves his hips faster below you, a signal to speed up.

You rock back and forth, squirming and squelching on his cock, feeling a little freer that he can’t see you, but only feel you so intensely.

He sinks and drags fingernails down your back with a hiss and a moan. He keeps his nails buried in your skin and holds your hips down.

“Fuck,” he pants as you pull the blindfold loose to see him come.

His hands grab yours and you use your laced hands to brace yourself, squeezing fingers tight when you both come.

It feels like an official reuniting, coming together again. Having more even ground this time, just experiencing this together.

Now, all is right again. Doubt, drowned just a bit longer.

11:51 PM

You’re in a marathon of a conversation, catching up on the last few months.

You laugh and talk and joke, just like old times. He grabs you by the waist.

He kisses you. Long and full of expectation.

“Just remind me why.” He exhales and pushes his forehead to yours.

“No, Joonie, we can’t do this_” You feel thorns grow on your skin and try to push away.

He doesn’t remember yet. This is a beaten path. As much as you missed the four walls you shared, by the end of it all, it was suffocating. Walls, closing in.

“Please,” he pleads. “Because i’m looking at you and we’re here talking and kissing and fucking, perfect as it always was and I can’t, for the life of me, figure out why we’re not together.”

You shake your head as tears burn at your eyelids.

“No, Namjoon, we cannot have this fight again…” you try to free yourself again. There’s so much more to it all than sex and conversation.

“Who’s fighting?”

“You know why we’re not together,” you argue. It was bad for a long time. We fought and fought_…”

“Maybe we didn’t try hard enough,” he interrupts.

You look at him, shake your head.

“I did.” Tears falling freely now. “We can’t see each other anymore. It’s not fair. Not to either one of us.

You laugh to yourself. “We both knew it was a bad idea. We knew we’d end up right back here.”

“And where is that?” he asks, soft tears spilling from his sharp eyes.

You don’t answer. Just offer a weak smile as you quickly dress.

“Happy Birthday.”

And just like that, it’s all over, 2 strokes to midnight.

12:13 AM

You turn on the lights to “the” empty apartment and intentionally don’t look around. Any progress you had made at making the place feel like just yours are back at square one.

Your body is heavy with regret, can’t believe you let yourself drown in him again.

You crawl under the covers and wait for it to be just not so hard, back turned away from the side of the bed that feels so devastatingly empty.

2:30 AM

You stir awake from a noise at the door. The knock sounds again, waking you completely.

You sleepily drag yourself to the door.

There he stands, eyes swollen, looking lost and vulnerable.

You stare at each other in the doorway, unable to tell if there are a million unsaid things being spoken or just emotions spilling sloppily around with no rhyme or reason.

The same electricity fires inside. Even though you can’t remember what you said when you left.

The only thing you can remember right now is how right it is that he’s here. And how wrong it was when he was gone, and how empty his side of the bed is.

You extend your hand out, inviting him in. He looks for a long time and finally accepts. You shut the door behind him, locking you both back into those four walls.

[adventuresinwonderlust]

Title: Caution to the Wind: PART 3

For Part 1 Click Here and For Part 2 Click Here

Pairing: yoongi x reader ft. Namjoon (brief)

Warnings: smut, fluff, angst, a lot of first times, Solo (m), Oral (m) (f) receiving, hand job, triggering themes (anxiety attack), 

Rating: 18 and over

Permanent Tag: @mochilicious-yoongi @heyimtavia​ @loveyoongles​ 

AUTHORS NOTE: THIS PART IS SOLELY FROM YOONGI’S PERSPECTIVE. HOPE YOU ENJOY!!

Yoongi:

Yoongi sat there, outside of the music room, his leg shaking frantically, waiting to be called so he could submit his entry exam. He had been working on this beat for months and it was finally perfect. It was a requirement for this music program to pass an entry exam in order to use their studios during the semester. To say Yoongi was nervous was an understatement. He cleared his throat for what felt like the hundredth time. He scratched at his neck, yanked on his ear, and picked at his calloused hand. “Come on.” He groaned under his breath. He had already been waiting an hour, an hour he could've spent with Y/N. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and thinking back to last night. How sexy she sounded when she moaned his name, her glistening core, and her gorgeous body under the flowing shower. “Calm down Yoongi.” He whispers to himself when he feels his cock twitch.  

He looks at the music room door, wondering what was taking so long with the student before him. He picked at his hand again, grumbling to himself, flashes of Y/N's pert nipples dancing in his head. He groaned, angry with himself that he was unable to shake her from his mind. He closed his eyes again, thinking back to the shower, her body on full display. She didn’t bother to hide herself the way he did, ashamed that he was once again hard after having just cum. Would she blame me though? Watching her wash her body was probably the second hottest thing he’s ever seen. He was sure to stand sideways, hiding himself as much as possible. “Aren’t you gonna wash up?” She giggled. “Yeah, you just take up so much space.” He teased, hoping she didn’t notice how much she affected him.

“Alright then, I’ll give you your space.” She smirks, rinsing off and ducking out of the shower. Yoongi was sure to peek from behind the curtain to be sure she was fully gone from the restroom before he began to stroke his aching cock. “Fuck.” He whispered, moving his hand quickly over his thick shaft. He couldn’t believe what just happened in that bedroom, couldn’t believe he had just showered with Y/N. Watching her play with herself was probably the highlight of his life. He was sure she would tell him no to his proposition. She was gorgeous, such a catch and he was... well.... him. They had been best friends for years, since they were kids, but that friendship had blossomed into so much more for him. She was his rock, his everything. The literal highlight of his day. How would she react if she found out that he had a growing crush on her? Maybe she felt the same way or maybe he was just fooling himself, either way he was honored she let him see her so intimately.

“Fuck Y/N, you’re so gorgeous. I want you so bad. Sss- So fucking hot.” Yoongi whispers under his breath, tugging at his balls. He bites his lip, feeling his body tense, that delicious tug in his scrotum. He moans as silently as he can, his hand working his tip furiously. His mouth falls open when that familiar feeling raptures his body, his balls jumping up right before he turns his cock up to unload his seed onto his stomach. He’s a panting mess, still slowly working his length, moving forward into the water to rinse off.

“Min? Is your name Min?” Another student calls from across Yoongi, snapping him out of his fantasy. Yoongi’s eyes widen, and he looks over to the student confused. “Are you Min Yoongi?” The kid asks again. Yoongi nods. “Okay then, you're up. The professor stuck his head out to call you.” Yoongi nods again, his cheeks reddening, the feel of his erection against his thigh keeping him from moving from his seat. Suddenly the professor sticks his head out from the music room, “I don't have all day! Is Min here or do I need to move on?” Yoongi throws his hand in the air, grabbing his backpack from the floor and using it to cover his lap as he walks into the music room.  

“Major?” The professor asks blandly. “Music Production.” Yoongi grumbles, feeling his face heat. The professor nods, taking a seat and nodding towards the open laptop. Yoongi looks over blankly. “Should I play my track?” He asks. “Well, I surely don’t want you to rap Mr. Min.” Yoongi clears his throat, moving towards the laptop and sticking his thumb drive in. He scrolls through the files, locating his track and playing it for the professor. He begins to nod his head to the beat, calming a bit when he sees the professor do the same. “Should I explain my method?” Yoongi asks. “Assuming I don’t understand music theory?” The professor counters. “No, I didn’t mean....” “You can turn it off.” He snaps, sitting up and scribbling on his notepad. Yoongi swallows hard, turning the track off. He feels his heart racing, waiting for the professor to give him his grade. “I like your work Min. Your mouth not so much. B+. You can expect an email with details on where to pick up a studio scan card on the day of move in. Have a good one.”  

“With all due respect sir. I feel like the track is worth more than a B+.” Yoongi scoffs, nervously. The professor nods, leaning back in his seat, “Play it again.” Yoongi moves to play the track again. The professor nods to the beat, leaning forward to scribble down more notes. “Turn it off.” He demands. Yoongi stops the track, staring at the professor. “B-.” The Professor declares. “What! Are you insane? Do you know how long I worked on this? I could sell this right now and make millions.” Yoongi word vomits. The professor smirks. “Like I said Mr. Min. I like your work but your mouth not so much. I like the beat, but it isn't perfect. If it were, you wouldn’t be here trying to get your degree would you. You’d be out there making said millions. Now can I assume that you still want that B+ or are we settling for a B-.”  

“What an asshole!!” Y/N shouts when you meet up with her and describe what transpired. “It’s fine. I took the B+. At least I passed the entry exam.” “That’s fucked up Yoon. You should report him.” Yoongi sighs deeply, holding open the door to the burger joint you both decided to eat at. “It’s fine really. I met a cool kid after. We exchanged numbers.” “Oh?” She stops suddenly. “Yeah.” “A girl or....” Her voice trails off and Yoongi’s eyes pop open at the realization of her assumption. “No! A guy,” Yoongi laughs nervously, “Namjoon. He’s taking Music as well. Passed the entry exam also, so we talked about possibly working together in the studio. I got good vibes from him.” “Well look at you making college friends already.” She teased, walking to the line to order. Yoongi shook his head, digging his hands into his pocket for his card to pay for the meal.

“You think I should go home tonight? Talk to my parents.” He asks, the pangs of guilt gripping him. “Finally ready to say sorry. Do you want me to come with?” “I didn’t say all that. I was just thinking maybe I’d try again to get them to see things differently.” “I feel like that’s a great idea Yoongi. If it feels right, then you should go for it.” Yoongi smiles watching Y/N order for the both of them. She was so supportive and knowing he could count on her made him feel confident. So confident, he moved towards her, waiting for just the right moment to plant a soft kiss on her lips. She giggles when he pulls away. “What’s that for?” She asks. “Being amazing.” He shrugs, moving forward to give his card to the cashier. “Sorry sir your card has been declined.” “Excuse me? That’s a mistake, can you please try again.” Yoongi swallows hard, shoving the card back at her. She swipes again and the machine beeps. She looks up at him and shakes her head. “It’s ok. I got it. Maybe the machine is messed up.” Y/N offers, pulling out cash.  

You both take a seat and wait for your number to be called. “Hey, you ok?” Y/N asks but you are too busy reading and re-reading the text from your mother. ‘Yoongi, until further notice, you have been CUT OFF.’ “Yoongi! Hey!” Yoongi finally looks up at Y/N, swallowing hard and turning his phone to her. “They cut me off. Its why my card didn’t work.” He mumbles, staring down at his feet. “Holy shit! What the hell?!? How could they!!” “I knew they were pissed but.... it's fine. It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t change anything. I’ll just get a job and work nights to pay for myself this semester and then apply for a scholarship next year. I can do this! I’m fine. It’s fine.” Yoongi assures her, even though it's really himself he’s trying to assure. His heart begins beating rapidly, the throws of anxiety slamming his entire body. “Can we walk?” He blurts out suddenly, a cold sweat hitting him. “Yeah of course.” Y/N jumps up just as they call your number. Yoongi runs out the restaurant, Y/N running to catch up with the bag of food in her hand.  

“Talk to me Yoons, you look sick.” “I can't breathe.” Yoongi confesses, his lungs feeling heavy with every breath he takes. “I just need to sit.” He says suddenly, plopping down on the side of the street, gasping for air. Y/N begins to wipe away the sweaty hair his forehead, but it only annoys him. “Please don’t touch me ok.” Yoongi shouts. “I’m sorry. Of course. Yoongi, please, take a deep breath. I think you're having a panic attack.” Yoongi feels sick, his stomach turning and heart racing. He drops his head between his knees, gasping for air. “I’m ok. This is ok. I can do this.” He whispers to himself. “Yoongi, you need to go talk to them.” Y/N whispers and with that Yoongi yells out to the universe. Everything inside him boiling over, tears flowing in succession with his struggled breathing. “I knew they were mad but fuck!” He throws himself into Y/N’s lap, who immediately rubs his back, rocking him back and forth. “It’s ok Yoongi. I’ll help you through this semester and we can come up with a game plan for next year. I promise you're not alone. This is a minor hiccup in what is going to be the best four years of your life.” Yoongi hears everything she’s saying but all he wanted to do right now was feel sorry for himself, he had no use for logic, logic he can use tomorrow. Today, right now, he wanted to hate them and himself.  

“You ready for this?” Y/N asked, the both of you standing outside of your parents' home. Yoongi only nods. “Let’s get this over with.” Yoongi puts his key in the door and attempts to turn it, but it doesn't move. “They changed the fucking locks!” He shouts. “Calm down. Remember what we talked about. You get more bees with honey than vinegar.” “Sure. Honey.” Yoongi responds, slamming his fist on the door. “Jesus Yoongi!” “Fuck them!” He snaps, slamming his fist on the door again. They don’t get nice, not after the stunt they pulled. “Hey! Open up. It's your son! The one you disowned but an hour ago!” The door swings open and Yoongi’s father is standing before you both. “Son.” “Father.” “We have much to discuss, perhaps better without Y/N here.” “She stays or I go.” Yoongi was not up for negotiating. “Fine. Come in.” Yoongi nods to Y/N to follow him in. “You can have these back.” Yoongi declares, giving his father the old keys. “Yoongi, please understand that we wish it didn’t come to this. You still have time to change things. A simple major switch.” “I don’t want to switch majors.” “Maybe study Medicine and minor in music. Compromise.” “I don’t want to be a doctor.”  

“Son. We want what's best for you.” “By cutting me off and leaving me to sleep in the streets?” Yoongi shouts. “You’re always at Y/N’s house!” Yoongi’s mother shouts from the kitchen. “You never make it, so I want to be here! Always pressuring me to be someone I am not! Why can't you just love me as I am?” Yoongi shouts at her. “We do love you as you are son, but music is not a future.” Yoongi’s father inserts. “I’m good at it. You just need to believe in me.” Yoongi all but pleads. Yoongi’s father sighs and Yoongi can see the ice chipping away. He drops to his knees before his father. “Appa, Jebal.” Yoongi feels his father's hand on the back of his head. “NO,” his mother screams, “You have one week to get out! You can go stay with Y/N until you move to the dorms. No compromise.” “Mrs. Min, please. He’s your son.” “Yes Y/N he is, and he has brought me no greater dishonor than this. Now, no more talk. Please leave.” Yoongi feels his heart break into a million pieces, and he makes his last plea to his father. “I’m so sorry Yoongi. Here, take this.” He digs in his pocket, handing Yoongi cash, and kissing him on the forehead. “You must go. Your mother will have it no other way.” Yoongi nods, standing up, tears burning to unleash. “May I gather some things?” He asks his father. “Of course.” His father replies. Yoongi bows and quickly moves towards his room.  

“Help me grab some of this stuff.” He tells Y/N. “Yoongi, wait a minute ok. Maybe we can talk to them some more.” Yoongi gives a pained chuckle, knowing she means well. “It’s over Y/N, I can give your mom this cash for letting me stay with you guys for a bit or maybe I can ask for an early move in date with the school, but this isn't an option anymore. So, please, grab the keyboard and the laptop. Let me get a bag.” Yoongi packs as much of his equipment as he can along with clothing and he and Y/N make their leave. “Son!” Yoongi hears from behind him. “Wait!” His father runs up to him. “Please, here, I like to put away extra cash just in case. You know we love you, but we have bigger dreams for you than you may have for yourself. If things get to be too much trouble, call me. I love you.” Yoongi’s father hugs him and hands him a rolled-up wad of cash, running off back into the house. “Let’s get a cab. This is too much to lug around on a bus.” Y/N offers. Yoongi doesn’t respond, instead looks back at his home, hoping to see someone in the window. I’ll prove them wrong; He thinks. I’ll make them proud of my decision. “I’m sorry Yoongi.” Y/N cuts into his train of thought. “Don't be. Just, thanks for being here with me.” He isn't sure if he could've been as strong if she weren't with him. “I’m always here with you Yoons. Let’s get to my place. We can eat and talk to my mom.”  

“Okay, so turns out my mom is pulling an all nighter at the law firm working on this huge case so she won't be home tonight, but we can talk to her tomorrow.” Y/N explains, tossing her phone on her side table. “No problem. Thanks for calling her, maybe it's better to just talk tomorrow. We can sleep on everything that happened today. I’ve been looking up information on emergency housing and early move in dates for the school ever since we got here.” “Why?” Y/N snaps. “Well maybe because I'm currently homeless.” “Yeah, but not really. My mom isn't going to say no to taking you in Yoongi.” Yoongi can't help but laugh. “It’s one thing to spend a couple of nights but not to live. Besides what happens when you get a boyfriend, or I get a girlfriend. I don’t think either will be happy with us sharing a bed.” Yoongi scoffs. The idea sounding stupid as it leaves his lips but still something he should bring up. Their arraignment was just temporary, and knowing this, he felt the need to remind himself often to keep his feelings at bay. “Yeah, well we don’t have either of those things right now so who cares about that,” She rolls her eyes, unabashedly changing into her pajamas in front of Yoongi, while continuing her rant, “For right now let's talk about you staying here at least until we move into the dorms. Now, I’m going to crash because it has been an eventful day. Try to get some sleep at some point.” Yoongi nods, watching her crawl into bed, ass on display in her red thong, his mouth open. “I'm just going to work on some music and then I'll come crash.” He assures her, wondering if this was the new normal. Seeing each other nude, changing in front of each other, soft kisses just because. He cleared his throat, trying to shake the idea from his head to focus on music.  

Two hours later, Yoongi rubs his eyes, shifting uncomfortably in just his boxer briefs. He really should get some sleep, he thought, seeing it was already 2am. He stretches his body, looking over to the bed at Y/N fast asleep, cuddling a pillow, her lips slightly parted. Why is she so pretty? He groaned, sliding his hand over his face. He released a sigh, opening a private window on his laptop. He looks over at Y/N again, still fast asleep. He clears his throat gently, typing in his favorite porn site. His cheeks heat with slight embarrassment. He shouldn’t feel as dirty as he does. After all the things they’ve done together, he should feel confident enough to wake her up and tell her he’s feeling needy, that after the day he’s had, he just wanted to cum. Unfortunately, he isn't, he’s still so shy, not to mention the fact that her taking control and talking dirty to him was such a turn on he thinks he may have a kink for her dominating him. He groans again at the thought, his cock slowing coming to life. He clicks on the sites search bar, typing in blow jobs. He looks over at his sleeping friend again. Coast is still clear. He begins scrolling through the recommendations, trying to find the perfect video. He needed someone who looked just like his sleeping Y/N.  

He scrolled and scrolled, the anticipation building inside him, until finally he found a video that was close to perfect. He clicks it immediately, no longer able to contain himself. He bites his lip watching the girl on the screen bob up and down with ease, never losing eye contact with the camera. Yoongi felt his body heat, his cock fully hard now and peeking out the thigh of his underwear. He leans forward, covering his mouth to keep from moaning at the sight of this woman work. She soon removes herself from her boyfriend's cock, stroking it gently. “You like that baby?” She asks and Yoongi can’t help but nod in response. “God.” Yoongi whispers when the girl quickly bobs on her boyfriend's cock again, faster than before. He has never had a blow job in his life but just imagining what it felt like had Yoongi’s blood on fire. “Ready to swallow my cum baby?” Her boyfriend asks. “Shit.” Yoongi whispers, palming at his warm erection against his thigh. The feeling so amazing he could swear he feels it riding up the back of his head. He moans a bit, rocking his hips, his headphones sliding forward. “Shit.” He whispers, going to grab them when he realizes, they aren't falling off but being removed from his head by Y/N.  

His mouth drops open and he scrambles to close his laptop. “I.... uh.... I'm sorry.” He panics. “Why?” She asks, lowering herself down to her knees. Yoongi’s eyes slowly widen. “I.... uh.... because.... wha- what are you doing Y/N?” He asks a little whinier than he’d have liked. “Trying something new.” She whispers, leaning forward to lick at the precum that has collected onto his thigh. Yoongi can't help but jump a bit, taken back by her actions. She’s so confident and forward. He wonders if she knows how much it turns him on. “Y/N, you're so sexy.” He whispers, moaning when she wraps her lips around his drooling tip. She suckles a bit before letting go the feeling jolting through Yoongi’s entire body. “Take off your underwear.” She instructs. He jumps up quickly, tugging down his underwear, his cock spring out. “Such a gorgeous cock.” She teases, licking her lips. “Ohhh, fuck.” Yoongi mewls, desperate for her. She smirks, moving forward, wrapping a hand around his length, stroking gently. “Oh God! Just like that.” He pants, his head rolling back. “Ask me.” She whispers with a flick of her wrist. “Wh-what?” “Ask me to suck your cock.” Yoongi’s breath hitches in his throat and he whines a bit at her command. “Please.” “Please what Yoongi?” “Please Y/N, suck my cock.” He begs, his cock twitching in her hand, lust flooding his vision. She smirks up at him, positioning herself between his thighs. She once again wraps her mouth around his sensitive tip, suckling on it softly. “Ah, fuck. That’s so fucking good.” He pants.

Yoongi grips the arms of the chair, trying to keep from losing his shit further. This was real and fuck it felt so good. He couldn’t help but stare at her work. How focused her movements were, how her hand held the base of his cock steady while her wet mouth worked his length, drool dribbling down to his pelvis. He was so happy her mother wasn’t home to hear the desperate, needy moans that fell from his lips. The same moans that seemingly fueled her to bob up and down on his length, taking more of him into her warm mouth. She was so fucking wet, hollowing out her cheeks and then relaxing her jaw as she worked his manhood. Yoongi moaned as softly as he could, gripping the chair, sure he would rip them off at this rate. He desperately wanted to hitch his hips upwards, the feel of her uncontrollable drool pooling under his balls had him wanting to grab her hair and guide her further down but he didn’t want to push things. She soon removes her mouth from around him, a soft whine escaping his throat when the cool air touches his hot cock. “Do you like this? Am I doing it well?” She asks. “Yes. It’s so good. So fucking good.” She smiles at his response, licking a long stripe from the base of his cock up to his tip. The blatant teasing driving him wild, he just can't help but hitch his hips forward when she licks another stripe up his reddened member. She chuckles softly, looking up at him with lust in her eyes. “Can I touch you here?” Her free hand tucking under his scrotum, massaging at his balls. Yoongi’s head falls back, this was something he loved to do to himself but to have her do it to him was something that he never imagined happening.  

She wasted no time waiting for his response, instead, gobbling his cock up again, bobbing quickly up and down all the while massaging his balls. “Fuck! Y/N, this feels so fucking good. You’re amazing! Tug on them. It feels good when you tug on them.” He instructs, so overcome and no longer worried of what she will think of his neediness. His body felt so warm, and his cock was harder than it had ever been. She gently tugs at his sack, and he cries out, not caring how loud he is. Something flips in her and she relaxes her throat a bit, allowing for more of Yoongi’s dick to slide into her throat. His legs falling apart a bit to aid her. Was she really trying to deep throat him? The thought sending him into overdrive, feeling a tug deep in his balls. “Fuck, Y/N, if you keep this up, I won't last.” He groans, sucking a breath in through his teeth. She comes up for air, unable to take all of him. She shakes it off, not taking much of a break, bobbing again on as much of him as she can, using her hand to stroke the parts of him she can't reach. Yoongi gasps, the feeling so overpowering, he can't help but thrust up into her working mouth. “Just like that, ohhhh fuck! I’m really not going to last. Ohhh God. Fuck. Y/N, please. I need to cum.” He grips at the arms till his knuckles are white. She shakes her head at him, and his eyes widen at the realization that she's EDGING HIM!!?!  

He drops his head back with a long-drawn-out groan, trying to think of anything but the burning need to cum. His mind goes to water and how much he hates getting wet. That one time in middle school when he came home early and his parents where fucking on the couch. He grimaces at the image. His need to blow his load slowly dissipating. He looks down at Y/N diligently working and the need to cum comes back with full force when she locks eyes with him, sucking and stroking like her life depended on it. “Ohhhh, no no! Water, ice cold water.” He groans, closing his eyes tightly. She stops what she's doing, drawing Yoongi’s attention back to her. She removes her sleep shirt, her perfect tits on display. Yoongi can't help but reach down and touch them, rolling her perky nipples between his fingers. “You’re so sexy Yoongi. So good for me. You wanna cum baby? You can cum now, just let me know when you're going to cum ok.” She instructs. He nods, panting like a dog in heat. She takes his length in her mouth again, bobbing and stroking so fast, it doesn’t take long for Yoongi’s orgasm to build up. He moans her name over and over, his abdomen tensing, his balls tightening. “Now, now baby. I’m gonna fucking cum right now.”  

She takes a moment to just suckle on his tip, sending surges of electricity throughout his body. “Shit baby, I can't hold on.” He pleads. She moves away, stroking his cock with one hand, and lifting her tits up with the other. “Cum on my tits. I want you to so bad baby.” She pants. “Fuuuuuck!” He exclaims, placing his hand over hers to stroke his cock, aiming at her gorgeous breasts. He growls at the amazing feeling that surges through him when his prostate begins to pump, that first spurt shooting out of his tip and onto her waiting bosom. She gasps when his warm seed hits her chest. Yoongi pants desperately, moving his cock around to fully cover her in his climax. They both stop moving their hands and she leans in to suckle at the final beads of cum that accumulate at the tip of his cock. Yoongi sucks in a deep breath through his teeth, overstimulation stinging. “Ah it's too much.” He moans. She unlatches and begins to rub his cum into her mounds. Yoongi is so turned on by her display that he reaches down, lifting her off the ground and carrying her over to the bed.

Yoongi lies her back on the bed, panting hard as he pulls her red thong off her body. “Yoongi.” She moans out when he drops between her thighs. He’s never done this before, but he’s never wanted to do something more in his life. In this moment, as he buried his nose in Y/N’s sex, if he had to choose between music and tasting her, he would pick tasting her hands down. “Yoongi, please, make me cum.” She begged causing Yoongi to take a deep inhale of her delicious intoxicating scent before his tongue darts out of his mouth, collecting her nectar on his tongue. He moans into her cunt, her taste a swirl of tangy and sweet. “So fucking good.” He breaths against her, resting his body flush against the bed, gripping the flesh of her thighs. She hungrily spreads her legs for him, gripping his locks, and pulling him close to her dripping folds. “Eat my pussy!” She growls, yanking at his hair. “Yes baby, anything for you.” He coos, diving into her wetness. He licks at her gorgeous folds first, swallowing back her juices with deep hungry moans. His mind begins to race. Am I doing this right? Is she enjoying this? Should I use my hands like in porn? “Lick here,” She pants, yanking him away by his hair to point at her swollen bud, “my clit.” He nods, licking her juices from his lips.  

He lowers his head between her thighs, gliding his tongue over her clit. A sharp gasp escaping her lips, her back arching. Yoongi’s skin gooses at her response and a surge of excitement courses through him. He begins to roll his tongue in quick flicks over her sensitive bud, the sweet sounds she’s making his reward. “Oh Yoongi. This is so good. Faster. G-go faster.” She gasps, thrusting her hips into his face. He groans into her sex, the feeling of her gyrating against him causing his cock to come back to life. He starts swinging his tongue side to side as fast as he possibly can, his appendage soon growing tired. “Can I use my fingers?” He pops his head up to ask. She’s completely out of breath but nods. “Just don’t put them inside me. I’m not ready for that yet.” INSIDE!! Yoongi’s brain screams. “I... No.... I won't.” He stutters, lowering back down. He brings a hand up, wrapping his mouth around her clit and slurping. “SHIT! Yoongi, oh fuck!” She cries out, bucking forward. Yoongi places his first two fingers on either side of her hardened nub and begins to slide them up and down quickly. The combination of his saliva and her juices aiding his moving fingers. She pants frantically, tugging at his now sensitive scalp, bucking into his face. Yoongi switches between suckling and rolling his tongue against her clit, moving his fingers in succession with his greedy appendage. “Yoongi! Fuck! Oh, Fuck! I’m going to cum.” She cries out, her walls beginning to quake causing her entrance to pulse against Yoongi’s chin.

He hums in approval at the feeling of her fresh juices leaking out on his face, her body tensing with one final tug on his scalp before relaxing. Yoongi finally pulls away when he feels her body relax, lifting off the bed, his massive erection on display. “Come here. Kiss me.” She gasps, arms outstretched. He gently falls into her arms, latching onto her soft lips and swirling his tongue around hers. He moans into her mouth when she grabs onto his cock, quickly stroking it against her abdomen. He tries to pull away, tell her she doesn’t have to, but she wraps her free hand around his neck to keep him latched to her lips. Her hand moves with ease, he’s so turned on, his cock is freely spilling pre-cum. He mewls and moans desperately into her commanding mouth. Her wrist twisting, hand twirling over his tip just how he likes it. He whines now, the only wat he knows how to warn her of his impending climax. His body tenses and his core tightens like it never has before. Before long, he’s grunting against her lips, his cock shooting the best climax he’s ever experienced between their bodies.

She finally releases his swollen pout, kissing him once more softly. “You didn’t have to.” He whispers against her lips. “I know. I really really wanted to though.” She smiles wide, leaning in to kiss him again. “Y/N?” “Yeah?” Yoongi doesn’t want to play games anymore. He just wants to be with her. He smiles softly, fighting against his shyness, the words on the tip of his tongue when he swears, he hears her door close. They both look up frantically at the door. “Shit! Was that your mom?” He whispers. “I don’t know. Shh. Let me listen.” She whispers, arm still wrapped around Yoongi’s neck. “I should get dressed. We both should.” “It’s ok. Don’t freak out. I’m sure she’s not home. She said she wouldn’t be home till the morning.” “Technically its morning.” Yoongi snaps, his heart thumping against his chest. “Just relax.” “Fuck. If she finds out about us. She’s going to freak.” Yoongi groans. “There is no us Yoongi. Just two friends hugging. Even if she walked in, she can't be sure what she saw.” Yoongi scoffs, swallowing back the lump in his throat. “No, yeah, you’re right.” “Exactly. So, what did you want to say before?” “Uh, nothing. I’m gonna shower.” “Ok.” She says, leaning forward to kiss Yoongi again. He closes his eyes even though he shouldn’t. His heart betraying him with a flutter when he knows this is just temporary. He gets up and moves towards the bathroom. “Hey!” She calls his attention. He looks over to her and she winks at him, throwing herself back into the plush bedding.  

[eadanga]

My Lost Love Part 6 (NSFW)

Summary: Liam a prince fell in love with Gracelyn a palace maid who disappeared from his life years ago. Now king Liam is determined to find his lost love who is harboring a secret

Author Note: This series is for @texaskitten30​ one of the winners of my 400 followers giveaway. Hope you enjoy this

Liam stood outside his balcony his jaw fixed in a thin line. He pulled out his phone and dialed her number Come on love pick up pick up please

“Hi this a Gracelyn leave a name and number and I’ll get back to you”

Liam hung up and sighed running his fingers through his hair I need to see her. He rushed out the room and got his shirt. He opened the door and saw Bastien’s surprised face

“Your majesty where are you going at this time of the night?”

“I need to see Gracelyn what’s her address?”

“I don’t think-”

“Bastien” He fixed him a stern gaze “Her address”

Bastien stared at him and saw the passion in his eyes. He quickly scribbled down something on his notepad and handed it to him “This way King Liam”

Liam nodded then headed out the hotel. He got into the car and drove down to her apartment. He walked into the lobby and walked to the front desk “Hi I’m looking for Ms. Gracelyn’s apartment”

The front desk guy smiled “Are you the one who sent her the flowers?”

“Yeah that was me”

He chuckles “Apartment 7G”

“Thanks” Liam heads to the elevator and heads up to the 7th floor. He walks down the hall to her apartment. He takes a deep breath and knocks on the door.

A few minutes pass before Gracelyn opens the door. Her eyes wide in surprise as she sees him standing there

“Liam It’s 3 in the morning what are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t sleep I needed to see you”

“Please Liam just go alright” She tries to close the door but he stops it with his shoe

“Please Gracie don’t turn me away please just 5 minutes that’s all I’m asking you. Please”

Gracelyn stares at him then opens the door and lets him in. Liam walks in and sits on the couch as she takes a seat next to him “Gracelyn I’m sorry”

“For what Liam?”

“For anything I’ve done to hurt you” He begins to sob “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the arrangement I had I didn’t think much of it when I found you and I’m sorry for anything else I’ve done that’s hurt you please forgive me”

Gracelyn felt tears come to her eyes as she watched him “I already forgave you Liam I’m sorry for fighting with you I never want to do that” She wrapped his arms around him and he pulled her closer.

“Never doubt my love for you ever I love you more than anything you mean so much to me I can’t live without you Gracie”

Gracelyn pulls back “I…need to tell you something”

“What is it?”

“After our date as I was leaving the hotel Madeline showed up”

“Madeline?”

Gracelyn nods “She told me about the arrangement and how you were just using me and that if the press get a hold of us sleeping together it would be bad”

Liam clenched his jaw “That bitch this trip was supposed to be Madeline free and she follows me. That obsessed psycho needs to leave me alone”

“That’s not all Liam…” She bites her lip “She’s the reason why I left”

“She’s what? What did she do?”

“It was the night before coronation and after we had came back from the hedge maze…”

****

Gracelyn headed back to her room and smiled as she fiddled with the promise ring Liam gave to her This is so beautiful I love it. There was a knock on the door “Just a second!” Gracelyn quickly hid the ring and opened the door and saw Madeline “Countess Madeline” She curtsied “What can I do for you?”

“We need to have a chat” Gracelyn stepped aside and let her in. Madeline smirked “Never been to the servants quarters now I’m glad I never have”

“What did you want to talk about?”

“Been seeing you with the Prince a lot”

“We’re just friends we’ve known each other since childhood”

“Yeah sure the friend that you kiss” Gracelyn looked at the floor “Oh come now you don’t believe that Liam is in love with you do you?” She scoffed “I mean just look at you and look at me. I’m a countess of Fydelia and you’re…a maid. Why would anyone make you queen of anything?” She takes a step towards her “Look I’m a noble I’ve been training for this my whole life Liam needs me by his side I’m meant to be queen. Then I will give him children and we’ll be a happy family together there’s no place for you in that. I mean how would Constantine and Regina react to him marrying a maid”

Gracelyn swallowed her tears “I…understand I’ll leave him alone”

“Oh no I don’t mean just leave him alone I want you out of here gone by tonight” She hands her a plane ticket “I got you on the next flight out of here there’s a car ready to take you to the airport”

“Can I at least tell him goodbye?”

“Write a note and begone and if you mention this to him I will make you pay”

“Yes Lady Madeline”

“Good now start packing” She walks out the door

Gracelyn sits on the bed and pulls out a notepad. Tears stream down her face as she writes the letter. She then leaves it on her table and packs her things.

****

“And then I left I didn’t want to but I didn’t have a choice” Gracelyn puts her head in her hands as she sobs

Liam looked at her he felt the rage burning inside of him. He immediately took her in his arms as she cried. He was silent for a moment as he held her then he spoke “I’m so sorry love now I see why you were pushing me away” He lifted her chin up so that she was looking at him “Gracelyn don’t listen to the words of Madeline. I couldn’t care less whether you were a maid, princess, or queen. I’m in love with you truly madly in love with you. No woman has captured my heart like you do you’re my world my everything. I don’t want anyone else but you my love” He kisses her deeply pouring all his love into it. Their arms go around each other. He trails kisses down her neck as she sighs then he whispers “Where’s the bedroom love?” She points to down the hall and he lifts her up and carries her to the bedroom.

They fall onto the bed kissing as he takes off her tank top. He stares at her “Beautiful so beautiful” He kisses her neck then sucks on her nipples as she moans

“Liam…”

He pulls back to pull off her shorts then undresses himself “Spread your legs love”

She opens her legs and Liam lowers his head between them. He slowly moves his tongue up and downs her folds “You taste exquisitely my love” He plunges his tongue into her as she moans. He inserts a finger inside of her as he continues to taste her juices.

“Mmmmm Liam”

He moves his way up to her as he moves his fingers slowly in and out of her. He kisses her deeply “Love the way you taste love?” She nods as he removes his fingers then cups her face “You’re mine forever and always do you believe that?”

Gracelyn nods he slowly pushes his manhood into her. He holds her tightly then slowly begins to thrust. He smiles as her moans grow louder “I love the sounds you make for me”

“Oh yes Liam! Fuck me harder”

“As you wish” He begins to thrust harder and faster as she pulls him closer “That’s it feel my love”

“Liam mmmmmm yes!”

He feels her tightening around him and thrusts into her till he finds release. They collapse on the bed breathing heavily. He turns to her “I love you Gracie”

“I love you too” He kisses her forehead and fall asleep in each other’s arms.

****

Liam wakes up the next morning to half the bed empty. He gets out of bed and walks into the kitchen and sees Gracelyn and older woman. Gracelyn turns around “Morning Liam”

“Morning Gracie” He kisses her on the forehead “Who’s this?”

“This is my mom”

“You’re the guy my daughter always talked about” She smiles and sticks out her hand “Evelyn”

“Nice to meet you” He shakes it

“You too King Liam”

“Liam is fine”

“Of course and I’m so glad she’s finally decided to tell you after all these years”

Liam looks at Gracelyn “Tell me what?”

She takes a deep breath “Liam I’m sorry for keeping this from you but I didn’t know about it until after I left”

He takes both her hands in his “You can tell me love what is it?”

Gracelyn nods to her mom who gestures for someone to come in. A blonde-haired girl with sparkling blue eyes comes in. Liam watched as she walked in slowly.

Gracelyn smiles “It’s ok baby come” She walks to Gracelyn and she takes her hand.

Liam felt tears coming to his eyes “Gracie who is that?”

“This is Lorelai she’s…your daughter”

Tags: @annekebbphotography​​ @indiacater​​ @hopefulmoonobject​​ @mfackenthal​​ @the-soot-sprite​​  @sanchita012​ @iaminlovewithtrr​ @jared2612​ @cordoniaqueensworld​ @princess-geek​​ @queenjilian​ @texaskitten30​ @choicesloversstuff​ @mrsdrakewalkerblog

[hippiebuckyharrington]

Just that Lucky

This is for the @harringroveweekoflove prompt secret admirer. 

Read below or on ao3 (it’s 9K so I’d recommend this) here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22703350

5.       The first one is in his gym locker.

 Billy’s early to practice, his English teacher was on the verge of a mental breakdown because of how idiotic her students are and let them out early. He wrenches open his locker and blinks down at the piece of paper sitting on top of the slightly crusty pile of gym shorts at the bottom. He glances around, and then picks it up. It was lying there kinda haphazardly, like it had been shoved through the grate on the front.

 Billy unfolds it, feeling unsure.

Billy,

 I like the way you chew on a pencil when you focus hard on your homework. Makes me look at your mouth, which then makes me think about your mouth on things that aren't a pencil. That got dirty quick didn't it? Yikes. But you're sitting there, out in public, reading fucking Pride and Prejudice, and chewing on your damn pencil, and I can't focus on anything else. Who let you be so handsome?! It's a crime.

 Well, not a crime. But still, I gotta finish this damn assignment, and tell me, how the hell am I supposed to do that with you looking like that? Fucking rude.

 Sorry if this is objectifying, my friend says I shouldn't objectify people, regardless of their gender. But you've got a great mouth, and I bet you're understanding every word of that damn novel. I read about two pages and gave up because I didn't understand a single damn word.

 I hope you smile at this; you deserve smiles.

 Love,

One of what I'm sure are a 100 secret admirers.

 Billy just gapes down at the messy handwriting scrawling over the half a page. It's weird and rambling, not quite written like a letter would normally be, but like whoever this is was just writing down literally everything they thought.

 Billy reads it again. He was reading Pride and Prejudice during lunch yesterday, sitting in the sunshine on the hood of Carol’s car, while she and Tommy made out in the back of the car. He had a quiz over parts of the book that afternoon. Tons of people had been in the parking lot, eating lunch or smoking and enjoying the sunshine and warmth that's so rare for this time of year in Hawkins. Tons of girls had grinned at him, and flirted as they passed, so it's absolutely impossible to know who wrote the letter.

 Billy hears Tommy yelling from out in the gym, and swears softly before shoving the note in his backpack, and changing quickly. He's sitting on the bench, tying his shoes when Harrington and Tommy walk in.

 "Yo Hargrove! What's up?" Tommy yells. Billy rolls his eyes. Harrington goes to his locker.

 "Hey." He says softly.

 "Hi." Billy answers, and hates the way his heart stutters a little. He apologized for beating Steve up, and now they are sort of friends, maybe? It's all confusing, because Billy has maybe just a bit of a crush on Steve.

 Billy ties his shoes and goes out to the gym to start warming up for practice.

 After practice, and chores and yelling, and all the joys that the Hargrove house offers as after school enrichment, when he's curled in bed, he rereads the note, and smiles a little. It's nice to know that someone thought of him like that.

  4.       The next one he finds taped to the underside of his desk.

 He's having a rough day, he had a rough morning, his back still aching from the bookcase he was shoved into, and he's just tired of everything. He drops into his seat, and drops his head to his desk, waiting for Mr. Peters to start the class. He's not really in the mood for math today. The rest of the class files in around him, getting out their homework, and chatting. Billy digs his out, and thinks it on the desk but it goes fluttering off the desk and under to the neighboring one. He sighs, and smiles a little when the girl next to him picks it up and hands it to him.

 "There's something under your desk." She says. Billy moves his feet but sees only cheap linoleum. "No, like taped under it." She says. Billy frowns and feels around, cringing away from the gum, until he finds the paper. He pulls it off, and frowns down at it.

 "Thanks." He says to the girl, who nods and goes back to finishing her homework. Billy glances at his name on the folded scrap, and then unfolds it.

 It's the same handwriting as the one form the other day, and Billy blinks a little in surprise.

 Billy,

 I walked by the gym the other day, and just about died. Your class was apparently lifting weights? I didn't even know we had a weight room! So, I guess I walked by the weight room and not the gym. Anyway, you were lying on the weight bench, pressing so much my mouth went dry. Holy shit. Your arms have no business looking that good. How much were you pressing there, babe? It looked like a lot. I bet it was a lot. God. It's unfair. How can you look so good all the time? How is it that you sweaty and grunting is such a turn on? Actually, I just read that and I get it now. That makes tons of sense. Never mind.

 You didn't see me watching, gaping like a fish. I'm glad of that, because that would have been super awkward.

 I realize that I'm objectifying you again, but it's not creepy. At least it's not supposed to be.

 I have nightmares, I can't sleep through the night, not for almost a year now. I won't bore you with the details, but watching those impressive arms of yours, I realized something. I realized that I'd feel really safe with you holding me in those muscly arms of yours. Bet I'd actually sleep through the night if you held me. Hell, even if you were in the bed with me, I bet I'd sleep just fine. I'm so tired, this doesn't make any sense. Sorry.

 I want to fall asleep in your arms, I want to feel safe again.

 Love,

Probably your most depressing secret admirer.

 Billy just stares down at this letter. His heart aches for whoever this is. He wonders how tall they are, would they fit well in his arms? He assumes they would, and wouldn't mind holding someone as they slept, helping them finally catch the rest they so obviously need.

 Billy tucks the letter in his notebook and tries to focus on the class. He had weights yesterday, so he wonders how long the note has been sitting there. And he wonders all through the lesson, if the writer got any more sleep last night.

 He wonders all through the rest of the day, glancing at all the girls to see who's looking especially tired today. He watches a fair amount of the guys too; girls are normally more flowery in their writing than this person is. And not that he's out or anything, but he's gay, so he hopes it's a guy.

 Billy heads to lunch, scowling out the windows. It's snowing, because of course it is. He's not watching where he's going so he collides with someone, and drops his bag and his lunch, papers and his sandwich scattering everywhere.

 "Oh fuck. Sorry, sorry I'm sorry." Steve says and crouches to start gathering the papers. He's grateful the letter is tucked away in his pocket and not among the notes and homework scattered around the hall.

 "Relax, Harrington." Billy says, and bends to pick his things up too. He glances at Steve and then just stares. Steve looks exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, and tiredness tugging his mouth into a frown.

 "You ok?" Billy asks. Steve nods and shoves his papers back at him.

 "I wouldn't eat that sandwich. Can I buy you lunch?" Steve asks. Billy blinks.

 "You don't have to Harrington, really, it's ok." Billy says. Steve sighs, and digs in his pocket, handing Billy a five.

 "Just take it ok. Sorry to ruin your lunch."

 "Jesus Harrington. What's wrong?" Billy asks.

 "Nothing. I was up late last night." Steve says, and then walks away, hands shoved in his pockets and head down. Billy stares down the hall after him, wondering why Steve looks so rough. Maybe he and the rumor of the week had a fight. He remembers the letter, but dismisses the thought that it’s Steve, because Billy’s not that lucky.

Billy stare’s after the retreating man, and wishes, not for the first time, that he could pull Steve close and tell him everything will be ok.

  3.       The third one Max actually hands him.

 He's waiting at the arcade for her and her friends to be done. He’s bored, so he's sitting in his car, working on his math homework and smoking. A car pulls in next to him, and he glances over, smiling a little when he recognizes Steve’s BMW. Steve leans over and puts down his passenger side window, and nods a little at Billy.

 "Hey." He says, and he looks better than he did last week, less exhausted.

 "Heya pretty boy." Billy teases. Steve grins a little, and flushes slightly.

 "Waiting for Max?" Steve asks. Billy nods, scribbling down an answer.

 "Here for Dustin?" Billy asks.

 "And Will and Mike, and Lucas, and probably El." Steve says, and grins a little.

 "Damn Harrington."

 "I offered." Steve says, with a shrug. "Hey, can I bum a cigarette?" Steve asks. Billy nods, grabs one out of his pack and stretches to hand it over, then holds out his Zippo. He glances up from the problem he was working on when Steve doesn't take it. Instead, Steve puts the cigarette between his lips, and leans over, raising an eyebrow.

 Billy blinks, and his mouth goes dry. He flips the Zippo open, and flicks it so the flame dances. His eyes are riveted to Steve's lips as they purse around the cigarette as he leans over to light it. They must look ridiculous, Billy leaning nearly all the way out of his car to reach, and Steve is leaning so far over the gearshift it's digging into his side. But Billy is enraptured with the flickering light playing on Steve’s face. Steve gets the cigarette lit and they both lean back into their seats.

 He takes a deep pull off the cigarette.

 "Thanks." He says, voice a little rough. Billy just nods, and turns back to his homework because he can't handle what just happened. It's quiet for a while, and then Billy reaches over and dumps the five dollars from the other day in Steve's window.

 "You didn't spend it?" Steve sounds surprised. Billy shrugs. "You should have, I ruined your lunch." Steve says.

 "I don't need it, I stole Carols fries, and Tommy had already bought me a burger." Billy says. The fries’ bit is true, the burger isn’t. But Steve hadn't been in the cafeteria so it didn't matter.

 "Oh. Well, I'm still sorry." Steve whispers. Billy laughs.

 "It's fine Harrington. Shit happens. I'm not mad. You act like I'm gonna hit you. I told you, October was a bad night for me, I'm really sorry for what happened, it won’t ever happen again." Billy says, frowning.

 "I don't think you're gonna hit me. I just feel bad." Steve says. Billy laughs.

 "Don’t, it's fine, really." Billy says, and finishes his homework, shoving it back in his backpack.

 They sit in silence for a moment, Steve finishing his cigarette, Billy trying not to stare too openly. The arcade bursts open and the kids come running out. The boys and El all pile into Steve's car, talking excitedly to him. Max slides into the front seat of the Camaro and hands Billy a folded piece of paper.

 "It was under the wiper." She says. Billy glances at it, and opens it up. Max is leaning around him to yell at her friends and Steve, a conversation he tunes out.

 Bills,

 You had your arm around Carol today. You guys were walking in from the parking lot, I was standing inside waiting for my friend, and I saw you tuck her up against your side. I know better than anyone that she's dating Tommy, but it still made my heart ache. I want to be the one under your arm. I know it was cold, and she is a bitch about the cold, always has been, but I hated seeing her there. I want to be who you pull close walking in to the school. I want to feel the warmth and weight of your arm around my shoulders as we walk.

 But I'm not like Carol. In a lot of ways, but I'm also taller than you. So maybe I should say I want to tuck you under my arm.

 I'm not writing this to be mad or anything, I'm just a little jealous. Because I really like you, and I really care about you. But I don't think that you feel the same way, I don't think you long for me the way I long for you. And that's ok, baby, really it is.

 That's why I don't sign these letters, why I try to avoid you, because I want to be the one you love so bad, I'm afraid if you look at me for too long, you're gonna see it in my eyes. And that if you see it you'll hate me.

 But I like to think that when you read these, you can picture them coming from whatever girl has caught your eye, and that they make you a little happy.

 I just want to make you happy.

 Love,

Your secret admirer that pines the most.

 Billy actually aches reading the words, more than he has reading the others. Whoever wrote them was right, Carol had been bitching about the cold, and he'd jokingly pulled her close. He hadn't seen anyone watching them, but he hates that he caused them any sort of pain. That's never what he wants, contrary to what people think.

Billy folds the letter, tucks it in his pocket. He'll reread it again at home. It's what he does every night, rereads each letter, touching his fingers gently to the words, wondering at the person who wrote them.

 Billy glances over at Steve, the kids are still shouting at each other, not angry shouting, just having a yelled conversation. But Steve is staring at Billy. When Billy meets his eyes, he flushes inexplicably, and suddenly yells at the kids to get their seatbelts on.

 "Is that another one?" Max asks, watching Steve's car tear out of the parking lot.

 "Yeah." He says. Max knows, because they are close, and she found a note. She didn't read the one she found in his jacket pocket, but she asked. Billy had explained and they had spent nearly an hour trying to figure out who wrote the letters.

 "Any idea who it is?" She asks.

 "Nope, not a clue." Billy says, and heads home.

 He gets in a fight with his dad later, and lies down on his bed, crying quietly, holding his ribs.

 Max creeps in after their parents go to bed, and offers an ice pack. She lies on his bed with him, head on his shoulder. She wordlessly hands him the little stack of letters, and closes her eyes and goes to sleep while he rereads them. They make him feel better, warm and lighter.

 2.       The next letter somehow winds up in the pocket of his jeans.

 He's not sure how. Well, that's not true. It had to have happened during basketball practice, that was the only time all day he was out of his jeans. But he didn't find it until it fluttered out of his pocket that night.

 He squashes the little flicker of hope he gets when he realizes it was placed during basketball practice, because there were no girls around at practice. Which means two things. The most likely is that one of the guys planted it for the girl who is writing, and that the first one he found in the locker room was planted by the same friend or she snuck in.

 The option Billy hopes for, quietly and to himself, is that some guy on the team is the secret admirer. He hopes its Steve. He knows that it’s not, he knows that. But God, Billy wants it to be, so so badly.

 He picks this note up, and is unfolding it when the phone rings. He leaps up and answers it, before his dad can yell.

 "Hello?" He says.

 "Oh wow. Didn't think you'd answer. I prepared a whole speech if someone who wasn't you answered and I had to ask for you." Steve is rambling. Billy can't believe it. Steve is calling him? Him?!

 "Harrington?" He asks.

 "Yeah. Hi." Steve says breathlessly.

 "Who's on the phone?" Neil barks from around the corner to the living room., pausing his argument with Susan, to yell at Billy.

"A friend, we have a school project, I told him not to call after 5." Billy says quickly.

 "Him?!" Neil cries. Billy winces, and is glad Neil can't see him.

 "Yeah, uh the teacher paired us; our last names are next to each other in the alphabet. I didn't get to pick. And he's dating Nancy Wheeler." Billy calls.

 "No, I'm not." Steve says, sounding confused. Billy closes his eyes.

 "Oh, well he's not allowed over here. And you have fifteen minutes. This can be done during school hours." Neil snaps, and then goes back to the argument.

 "Yes sir." Billy calls and then turns away from the living room.

 "Why are you calling?" Billy snaps, low and nervous.

 "Um… I just wanted to talk." Steve says. Billy frowns.

 "You want to what? Harrington, we don't do this. You can't call here." Billy snaps.

 "Well, I just… I thought…." Steve stutters. Billy sighs.

 "Out with it. Why did you actually call?" Billy asks, softly. Neil doesn't get mad at the soft voice, because he hates being disrupted, he prefers Billy silent or whispering.

 "Uh, Jonathan, Nancy and I are all going to drive over to Roan tomorrow and go to their movie theater and then grab pizza. Do... Do you want to come?" Billy blinks. Blinks again. And still can't believe what he heard.

 "Like a date?" He whispers, and worries Steve doesn't hear him.

 "No, God no. Ha-ha, I just don't want to third wheel with them. And we are friends, right? So, I thought we could spend some time together outside of basketball or class. Sorry, this was stupid. Sorry." Steve whispers.

 "No… uh… I'll come." Billy says.

 "Really?!"

 "Yes. But I really have to go now." Billy says, and then hangs up. He takes a deep breath and goes into his room, and waits a few minutes.

 He takes another deep breath and goes out to grab a glass of water from the kitchen. He stops in the living room. Neil and Susan are glaring at each other, Susan looking tired.

 "Excuse me." He says. Susan immediately straightens and turns to look at him, smiling. Neil scowls, and glares at him.

 "Uh, I have a date tomorrow, is it ok if I go?" He asks. Susan grins.

 "Of course, Billy, tomorrow's Friday, go have fun. I'll pick Max up from school" She says.

 "Who's the date with?" Neil demands.

 "Heather Holloway, we are going to go bowling and then to dinner after school. And then maybe to her parents’ house, they want me to come to game night." Billy lies smoothly. Heather is cool and if he tells her tomorrow, she'll cover for him.

 "Curfew is at 11." Is all Neil says. Billy nods and then goes to his room and quietly shuts the door, wincing when the argument in the living room picks up again.

 The note is still sitting on his bed. He sits down and unfolds it, smiling a little.

 Bills,

 I am currently third wheeling with my friends right now. We are at my place, watching a movie. They are curled together under a blanket (don't be gross nothing is happening aside from cuddles). But they look so content, I think she's gonna fall asleep on him. I wish you were here.

 I wish we were curled under a blanket. I want your head on my chest, I want to comb my fingers through your curls. Are they as soft as they look? I'm sure they are.

 I want to hear your sarcastic comments, I want to hear what you'd say to this movie. I want to lean down and kiss you the way my friends just did. I want to hold you close, and just enjoy being with you.

 I want to tuck my nose in your curls and just breathe you in. I want to hold you, and ease the tension I can see in your shoulders, and the hurt behind your eyes. I hate that you hurt. I hate that someone makes you ache like that. You should never hurt. Never.

 I have a confession. I saw you get one of these letters. I won't say which one. But I saw you get one, and the way you smiled at it. The way you read it, with such reverence. I've never seen your walls come down like that. I've never seen you look like that until you were reading my note, reading my words.

 And Bills, it filled me with such an ache, an ache to see you smile like that, actually at me, not at my notes. I want you to smile like that while looking in my eyes.

 I want to say sweet things to you, to your face. I can just picture it.

 Lying in bed with you, after we are together you know? Whispering sweet things, telling you nice wonderful things that you should hear all the time, and watching you smile like that. But this time, it’s all for me and only me. I want to be the only one who gets the real you, baby. I want the real you, and I want to hold you, always.

 I just want to love you, so so bad. I mean actually love you, not this pining bullshit.

Love,

The Secret Admirer who makes you smile like that

 Billy cries over the note, pressing it to his heart and letting the ache of longing both his own, and the one contained on the page, wash over him. He’s a little embarrassed at the tears, but the words resonate with him.

  1.       The fifth letter he finds right before hanging out with Steve.

  Heather is the best, and readily agrees to cover for him, without even asking why.

Billy is distracted all day thinking about the plans with Steve after school. He can hardly focus, and smokes nearly his whole pack of cigarettes he's so nervous.

 When school finally ends, he takes a fortifying breath and treks to the parking lot. Jonathan, Nancy and Steve are leaning against Steve's Beemer, and Billy nods at them, before dumping some books in his car. He dawdled enough that Susan has already come and gone with Max, so there are no worries she will see him.

 There's another note sitting on the windshield under the wiper again. He grabs it and then walks toward the others.

 "This is weird right?" Billy says when he walks up.

 "No. Steve wanted to invite you so you're coming. It's not weird. You know all the same shit we do, it's about time we all hung out." Nancy says. She means the upside down, which Billy found out about after beating Steve up. Max gave him only enough sedative to knock him out for maybe an hour. He woke up and found the thing in the freezer, and stuck around needing to know what the hell was going on. Max told him. And that was that.

 "Weird logic there Wheeler, but alright." He says.

 "Jon and Nance are gonna take their car, you ok to ride with me?" Steve asks. Billy shrugs.

 "Great, none of us have big enough cars to fit everyone comfortably. Steve, you'll follow us?" Nancy says. Steve nods and the other two head across the parking lot to their car. Billy climbs into Steve's car and shifts around nervously.

 "What's that?" Steve asks, following Jonathan’s car out of the lot. He means the note clutched in Billy's fist.

 "Nothing." Billy says, and pockets the note. Steve shrugs and they drive on in silence.

 "Do you know what you're doing for the summer?" Steve asks. Billy shrugs.

 "I might try and lifeguard. I've got a certification from Cali that still works here, so I think I can get hired." Billy mutters. "You?"

 "Don't know. Work probably. Go up to the lake with Robin probably." Steve says.

 "Robin? That your new girlfriend?" Billy asks.

 Steve laughs, "No. She's just a good friend of mine." Steve says. Billy nods.

 They lapse into silence. It's only about a 30-minute drive between Hawkins and Roan, and Billy sees a couple cars on the highway around them from Hawkins High. It's a popular Friday night destination apparently. Billy can't stop thinking about the note in his pocket. He can't decide what he wants.

 On the one hand, existing in an enclosed space near Steve is intoxicating, and he doesn't want to miss it. On the other, the notes from this secret admirer have meant so much to him, and he can't believe he's only gotten five in total. They've started taking up that much space in his life. He also doesn't want Steve to know, to see how much Billy needs this note, even though Steve sort of already saw the other day, this feels different.

 "Sorry." Steve says. "I'm sorry this is awkward."

 "You apologize too much pretty boy. Are you that afraid of me?" Billy asks.

 "No, I'm not afraid of you! Why would you say that?!" Steve says.

 "You apologize like you think I'm gonna beat you up again or something. I swear, I'm not. I don’t know why you don’t believe me." Billy mumbles.

 "No, I believe you! I don't think about that anymore. It's just a bad habit. My parents act like I can never do anything right, and they expect an apology for everything, just a habit. Sorry." Steve says, and then blushes a little.

 "Oh. Well you don't have to apologize to me, ok? I'm not mad at you, ever. Except when you missed that shot yesterday." Billy teases.

"Ok, first of all fuck you! Second of all, that was not my fault!" Steve shrieks.

 "Oh really?!" Billy says. Steve huffs indignantly and launches into a tirade on why the missed shot in yesterday's practice was not his fault. Billy argues back good naturedly and the car ride passes quickly.

 They pull up to a spot next to Jonathan and Nancy at the theater and argue for a few more minutes before Steve huffs and leaves the car. Billy grins and follows.

 "What were you two arguing about?" Nancy asks, looking concerned.

 "Basketball." They say at the same time and then grin at each other.

 They catch some horror movie that Billy has never heard of, and Steve buys some popcorn for the two of them to share.

 It feels like a date.

 It feels like a date when Steve sits next to Nancy and yanks Billy into the seat next to him. It feels like a date when Steve parks the popcorn bucket in Billy's lap, and then grabs fistfuls of it. It feels like a date when a jump scare has the whole theater jumping and with a gentle gasp, Steve grabs Billy's arm. It feels like a date when someone is getting mauled on screen and Steve turns toward Billy and kinda curls toward him. It feels like a date when Steve hides his face in Billy's shoulder while the villain is creeping through the creepy house.

"Is it over?" Steve whispers. Billy turns his head and leans into that fluffy hair.

 "Not yet pretty boy, give it a second." He murmurs back.

 It feels like a date when Steve nods, and sighs a little against Billy.

 Billy can hardly focus on the movie, so much so that he has no idea what little plot there is, and he isn't jumping and gasping with everyone else. He's so attuned to the boy beside him. To Steve's grip on his arm, that hurts, but not in a bad way, to Steve’s head on his shoulder, and his gentle breathes on Billy’s arm. Steve turns his head a little and peaks at the screen when the ominous music stops.

 "Jesus fuck!" Steve whispers when the masked villain is suddenly popping on screen. Billy laughs a little.

 Steve doesn't move his head from Billy's shoulder the whole movie, his grip on Billy's forearm never changing.

 After the movie ends, the villain apprehended, the perky blonde and the jock alive and well, the four of them leave. Steve just simply let’s go of Billy and gets up following Nancy and Jonathan out into the now dark parking lot. Nancy and Steve talking about the finer points of the movie, debating things as they go. Jonathan watches on, and Billy just gapes at them.

 "Don't you think Billy?" Nancy calls suddenly. Billy had paused to shake a cigarette out of the pack he keeps in his jean jacket, and lights up.

 "Do I think what?" Billy mumbles around the cigarette.

 Nancy launches into some long-winded explanation about the movie, and then looks expectantly at him.

 "Damn, Wheeler. I really wasn't paying that much attention." Billy mumbles, taking a long pull of his cigarette.

 "Ugh." She huffs and then turns to Steve who apparently agrees.

 "They do this often?" Billy asks Jonathan, who is standing by him.

 "Yeah every time we got to the movies." Jonathan says, and shrugs a little. "Can I bum a smoke?" He asks. Billy raises an eyebrow.

 "You smoke?" Billy says, but he digs out his pack and lighter.

 "Only sometimes. Thanks." Jonathan says and lights up. Billy nods, does the same, and leans against the Beemer with Jon while Nancy and Steve argue. Billy and Jon smoke in silence, just watching.

 "Nance, babe, I'm hungry." Jonathan says, flicking his cigarette butt away a while later. Billy chuckles.

"Oh, right! Sorry! Pizza!" She says. Steve grins and they pile back into the cars.

 "Sorry, Nancy and I can really get going." Steve says, as he starts the car. Billy laughs a little.

 "I don't mind. Quit apologizing." Billy teases.

"Alright. Thanks for coming." Steve says, merging into traffic.

 "You just invited me for my muscles during the scary parts of the movies." Billy teases. He really is just teasing but Steve blushes a little.

 "No, I invited you because I want to be friends, like actual friends, and I'm sick of always just hanging out with Nance and Jon, that's a little much sometimes." Steve mutters.

 "Wow, you've fought monsters that shouldn't exist but third wheeling with your ex and her boyfriend is too much?" Billy teases. Steve laughs.

 "Exactly." Steve says, and Billy chuckles.

The pizza place is packed in the way that the best restaurant in small towns always are. They squeeze into a booth in the corner, Nancy and Jonathan on one side, Steve and Billy on the other.

They order cokes and the greasiest pizza Billy has ever seen. But it's delicious, and they talk and laugh all through the meal.

 Billy doesn't feel like an outsider like he kind of expected to, Nancy cracks up at his story about the time his math teacher had nearly quit after their last test because everyone but Billy had gotten it all wrong. (Billy omits that part; nobody expects him to be as smart as he is and he hates explaining.)

It’s nice. Billy's not sure he's ever hung out like this, he has friends of course, and he had a huge group of people he hung out with back in California. But nothing like this, nothing without pressure, and it's really nice.

 Jonathan and Steve get up, mumbling something about the best cheesecake ever. Nancy yawns and watches some of the other people in the restaurant. There’s a lull, so Billy pulls the note out of his pocket, and unfolds it. Nancy pillows her head in her hands and ignores him. It's not rude, they are just a little tired, she apparently was up all night last night studying for an exam this morning.

 Bills,

 I hope you don't mind that nickname by the way. You've got a nickname for me, and I felt like I should have one for you.

 Anyway, I hope you don't think I'm creepy. All of these letters I feel like I've said how I've watched you without you being aware of it. It's not meant to be creepy, I just like looking at you. Partly because you're just so gorgeous, I can't believe it. I love it, you have such good hair, and all those muscles, and don't get me started on your eyes.

 But I also just feel better when I look at you. My stress and my worry feel better when I see you.

And this morning, I watched you laugh with Max. You two got here early and you were helping her on her skateboard, before too many other people showed up. I couldn't sleep again and got to school early too.

 You don't want anyone to know, but you're actually an amazing brother. Don't worry, I won't tell. It just makes you better, baby. You really care about her, I can tell and I bet she feels the same. I can't say too much, because if I say more on this next sentence, I worry it will give away too much. But, watching the two of you, made me think you'd fit in my life pretty damn great.

 I can't say more, I'm sorry baby. I really want you to know who I am, but I'm afraid you'll hate me if you find out.

 I just want you to be with me and my friends. Have you ever felt like that Bills? Like you've stared at someone and wanted to have them over for game night with all of the other most important people in your life? You'd fit in with them I think, and I'd certainly have more fun with you there. At game night at my house I bet we could cuddle on the couch while everyone played. Wouldn't that be nice? I really just want to always be touching you, regardless of what we're doing. Not in a dirty way (not always at least), but in a we love each other kind of way. Does that make sense?

 I just want to love you Billy Hargrove. I want to know everything about you, and I want to hold your hand. I want to kiss you, hug you, have sex with you. I want to cuddle you, cause even tough guys like you need to be held, and I want to treat you right.

 I'd be so good for you, I'm not even trying to be cocky. We would be great together, and I can't ever tell you because I don't think you'd ever look at me the way I want. This is better. And Hawkins is a backwards small town, so it's just better this way.

 Love,

Someone who really hopes they're your only secret admirer.

 It's the longest letter he's gotten. And it doesn't make him ache any less than the other have, but it makes him smile too.

 "Note from someone special?" Nancy asks. Billy jolts and gently folds it back up. "Don't worry, I didn't read it. But your face reading it tells me that it's someone special." She mutters.

 "Who's special?" Steve asks, sitting down and sliding a piece of cheesecake at Billy.

 "Billy's got a note from someone special." Nancy says, sitting up so Jonathan can scoot her own piece toward her. A strange look flashes across Steve's face. "Oh? Who is it?" Steve asks.

 "I don't know. It's from a secret admirer." Billy mutters.

 "Wow. That's so sweet. Who do you think it is?" Nancy asks.

 "I don't know. I haven't gotten very many of the letters." He says, still not quite believing this is only his fifth.

 "The handwriting looked familiar, if you want me to look at it I can and see who I think it is." Nancy offers. Steve's fork goes clattering to the ground, and he chokes on the cheesecake.

 "No, that's ok. There is some really personal stuff in these letters, I don't want them to feel uncomfortable, whoever they are." Billy says. Nancy shrugs and moves on. Steve stays quiet.

 They settle the bill and head out to the cars. Nancy and Jon are going to go hit the record store, so Steve and Billy head back alone. It’s quiet for a while.

 "You really have no idea what girl is writing you the notes?" Steve asks a few minutes later. Billy glances at him in the dark.

 "Uh no, but I don't think it's a girl." Billy mutters.

 "Really? You don't sound mad…" Steve hedges. Billy shoots him another look.

 "Well, no. Why would I be mad?"

 "Because it's a guy writing you love letters? Right? If it’s not a girl than it’s a guy." Steve mumbles.

 "I'd rather it be a guy than a girl." Billy says, confused. Max is many things, but she can't keep her mouth shut, and she's with Steve a lot. She must have told her friends about Billy. She’s known for years he’s gay.

 "What?" Steve says.

 "Harrington, come on. Catch on already, damn." Billy mutters. It takes Steve a beat.

 "Oh… oh. I thought Max was lying."

 "I knew she told you." Billy sighs. "Look, I'm not ashamed, but the person writing me is, so please don't tell anyone."

 "I'm not gonna, don't worry. I wouldn’t do that.” He pauses for a minute. “You don't even know who's writing you, why are you protecting them?" Steve asks.

 "Because they are putting themselves out there, and their words have meant a lot to me. I get that they can't be out, and I've been outed before, it's not anything I would want for them." Billy mutters. Steve appears to mull that over for a little while.

 "You're a better person than you let on." Steve finally says.

 "Tell anyone and you're dead." Billy snarks back. Steve laughs, and the tension in the car finally breaks.

 They talk about the kids, and their annoying teachers for the rest of the drive. When Steve drops Billy off at the Camaro, there’s a weird almost hesitation, where Steve kind of leans toward Billy, and Billy sort of leans in, and then Steve loudly says, "Have a good weekend!!" And all but plasters himself against his door. Billy nods and climbs out of the car.

 When he gets home, Susan is sitting on the couch smoking.

 “Susan?” Billy says, surprised that she’s still up. It’s not late exactly, but she and Neil go to bed at 10 most nights.

 “Billy. Sit for a minute, would you?” She asks. Billy frowns and glances around for Neil, but he’s nowhere around.

 “Everything ok?” Billy asks.

 “Yes. I kicked you father out.” Susan says, and takes a long pull off her cigarette. Billy blinks at her in stunned silence. “I couldn’t take the way he talked to you, and to Max and to me. I’m done with him. You don’t have to stay here, but I’m not going to kick you out.”

 “Wow.” Billy breathes. Susan offers him a small smile.

 “I’m sorry, you’ve had so much upheaval in your life, but you don’t have to leave and go with him. No matter what he says. You can stay here, Max adores you and I know I’m not your mom but…” Susan trails off, and blows out a long breath.

 “I’ll stay. I don’t want to go anywhere with that asshole.” Billy says, and Susan grins. She sends him off to his room, and sits in the living room, smoking for a long time.  

 He rereads all the letters before he falls asleep that night and then thinks about the way Steve had grabbed his arm in the movie, and how close he had sat. For the first time in a long time, Billy goes to sleep with a grin on his face.

  +1.     They all start hanging out after that. Nancy catches his arm in the hall way at lunch on Monday and tows him to their lunch table, where she all but shoves him into a chair. She demands he read over her lit essay because Steve and Jonathan are useless. Billy feels a little shell shocked, but he reads her essay, offers her some notes and then ends up eating with them. After that, one of them always seems to find him at lunch to drag him with them, and eventually he stops fighting it. He even tells them about his dad leaving, and they all seem happy for him.

  There’s the added bonus of Steve always looking thrilled to see him so he just rolls with it.

 Tommy and Carol look offended, but eventually they get over it, he still goes to parties with them so they relax.

 The letters mysteriously stop, and for three weeks he doesn't get another one. Billy tries not to be disappointed, but it's hard.

 "You look serious today Billy." Steve comments as he slides into his spot at the lunch table. Billy glances away from where he was watching the rest of the cafeteria, wondering if his secret admirer is out there somewhere.

 "Yeah, just thinking." Billy mutters.

 "You ok?" Steve asks. Billy nods, and goes back to people watching.

 "Looking for someone?" Steve asks, poking at his mashed potatoes.

"You ask a lot of questions." Billy teases.

"Just curious." Steve shrugs.

 "My secret admirer hasn't written in a while, if you're gonna be nosy." Billy says, and rolls his eyes, turning to pull his math homework out when he sees Jonathan and Nancy leave the lunch line. He and Jonathan have the same math teacher, but at different periods, so they compare homework a lot.

"Oh. You sound bummed." Steve points out.

 "I am. I liked the letters. Made me feel… I don't know. Important, I guess? Forget it. It's stupid." Billy glances at Steve. "Quit grinning like an idiot Harrington, I can be honest sometimes." Billy snaps.

 Steve just keeps grinning. Billy rolls his eyes, but the shame and embarrassment he was expecting over being that open and honest doesn't come. He and Steve are good friends now, same with Jonathan and Nancy.

 He even got stoned with Jon at a party last week, which had been weird but good.

 It's weird having friends like this. He's not sure he minds though, he likes them, even if he'll never admit it.

 He and Jonathan work on their homework through lunch, and Steve and Nancy talk about some annoying thing Mike and Dustin did.

 Jonathan joins in with a story about Will, and Billy finds himself contributing with stories about Max.

After lunch, they all disperse to class. Billy goes to math and finds that he and Jonathan did all their homework right.

He and Steve nod at each other as they pass in the hall between classes and he watches as Steve goes up to Robin Buckley and starts chatting with her, handing her something that makes her laugh at him and makes him blush. Billy frowns, wondering why. The rest of his classes pass quickly, and when he gets to the last one, he's surprised to find a note on his desk.

 He tries not to appear too eager, but he unfolds it quickly.

 Bills,

 I saw you looking at lunch today. I was sitting off to the side of where you were looking, so I got to see your profile. You're beautiful. It takes my breath away sometimes. Looking at you, sitting by those big windows, you looked so good. Have you done something different with your curls? They looked great today, so soft. And your eyes, you looked at me for just a second before you looked away, and I swear I drowned in your eyes. The light hit them just right, thank god it was sunny today, and they kind of sparkled. I could stare at them all the time.

 I just realized today, when you looked at me, that you have freckles. FRECKLES Billy are you kidding me? How the hell is a man supposed to function with you looking like that?! I bet they are even darker in the summer time. I don't know how I've lived not knowing you had freckles, I'm in love with them. I want to kiss every one, I want to count them, I want to memorize them.

 And then to find that these letters make you feel important?! Baby, you're killing me today. I'm sorry I didn't write recently, I've been kinda distracted. I'll write you thousands of letters though, because you deserve to feel important. And it's not stupid to feel that way, you deserve to be fucking cherished baby. And I intend to do that, even if it's in the form of letters, and even if you never know who I am, I'm gonna fucking cherish you Billy Hargrove.

 You and those damn freckles. Jesus Christ. They kill me. You kill me, but what a wonderful way to go, death by a beautiful boy and his god damn freckles. Holy shit.

 I can't even focus on class, I keep thinking about your damn eyes, and hair, and fucking freckles. Who knew, freckles would kill me so much.

 Love,

The best secret admirer there ever was

 Billy has to read the letter four times, because he can't believe it. He was only sitting close enough to one person to see his freckles, they fade to barely there in the winter, you have to catch him in the right light and be close to see them. And only one person was. He also sits in a quieter corner of the lunchroom, and no one else was near enough to hear what he said about the letters, except of course the person he said them to.

 Billy can't believe it, and happiness bubbles in his chest. He tries to tamp it down, it could not be who he wants, and Billy is never this lucky. He's never lucky to have his crush actually be the one crushing on him, is he?

 He can't ignore it though. Unless Steve told someone what he said, but that's not how the letters read. They read exactly like someone who stared at him from across the table all through lunch and then ran to their next class and scribbled down the note. And that screams Steve Harrington.

 It's got to be him.

 Then there's the other clue: Robin Buckley sitting next to him, sneaking looks at Billy, while managing to look bored to tears.

 Suddenly what Billy saw Steve give her makes a lot more sense.

 "Buckley." Billy leans over and hisses.

 "What?" She snaps, eyeing the clock pointedly. Class ends in five minutes, but Billy can't wait that long.

 "What does Steve have after school today?" Billy demands. They start packing up their stuff and Robin shoots him a look.

 "What's it to you?" She demands. Billy holds up the note and raises an eyebrow. Robin sighs in relief.

 "Thank god you figured it out. Fucking finally. I'm sick of his pining. Be nice when you reject him ok? He's got nothing after school, he'll be at home." Robin says. The bell rings and Billy fly out of his seat.

 "Who says I'm rejecting him?" Billy says, and then books it to his car. Steve is already gone, but that's fine.

 "Max!" Billy yells, when he sees her fiery hair. She comes running up.

 "Can you get a ride now? Or skate home? I have to do something." Billy says. Max raises an eyebrow.

 "Yeah? I'm going to Will's for DnD remember, you're picking me up before dinner?" Max says, and Billy laughs a little.

 "Right, right ok. Great. I found out who's writing me the letters." Billy says. Max grins.

 "Really? Who?!" She demands.

 "It's Steve. I have to go, but I'll be at the Byers in time." He says. Max laughs and nods, before running back to her friends. Billy practically leaps into his car and takes off toward Loch Nora.

 He roars up to Steve's house and throws the car in park so fast it actually jolts.

 "Sorry baby!" Billy tells the car, and then he's running up to Steve's front door. He pounds on it, heart in his throat.

 "What the hell do you want…Billy?" Steve says, looking confused. He takes in Billy's panting, his probably wild eyes and he pales a little, instantly looking around. "Are you ok? What's going on? Are you hurt?" Steve asks. Billy smiles fondly.

 "Can I come in?" He asks. Steve nods, standing aside.

 "Of course. Are you ok? Billy?" He asks, following Billy into the living room. Billy turns and just looks at Steve. He reaches in his pocket and pulls out the letter.

 "Is it you?" Billy asks. Steve pales even further, and then goes beet red from the neck of his polo to his hairline.

 "Fuck." He mutters.

 "Oh my god. It is you." Billy breathes, elation swelling in his chest. It's Steve, he apparently can be that lucky.

 "Ok, before you yell at me, you were never supposed to find out. I started writing letters to you and Robin said I should send them because if I left it anonymous and you never caught me delivering them, I could like work through my pining. So, I did, and then you liked them, and I kept sending them, but I never planned to tell you, because I didn't think you'd want it to be me you know?" Steve flails his arms, and starts pacing a little, the words leaving him in a rush.

 "And like I totally meant all of it, every word, but I get that it's weird, and you said you're gay but it's probably different now that it's me, and like some guys don't like to be with people who are bi, which I totally get. You weren’t supposed to find out, I'm not sure how you did, but you're like super smart so I guess I should have seen this coming. And then we started getting closer you know? And then it was kinda too late, and I don't know how to work with this. I'm talking so much, Jesus Christ." Steve says, and pushes his hands into his hair. Billy cracks up then, full on belly laughs.

 "Why are you laughing?" Steve asks, looking adorably confused. Billy walks over to him, and grins.

 "First, I'm not gonna yell." Billy says.

 "You aren't? Because you totally can, I was being creepy, and I broke into your gym locker., and-" Steve starts again. Billy chuckles.

 "Easy pretty boy. I'm not mad. I'm not gonna yell at you. And I found out because your last letter was super obvious it was you. No one else was around when I told you the letters made me feel important, and no one was sitting close enough to see my freckles. Are they that distracting that you forgot to hide who you are?" Billy teases. Steve flushes again, and glances at Billy's nose before looking at his feet.

 "I never noticed them before. Fucking freckles and I ruin everything. They are too cute, just lil freckles. Fuckin rude." Steve mutters, like he doesn't want Billy to hear. Billy laughs.

 "Stevie, look at me." Billy whispers, and Steve does, though probably because Billy has never called him Stevie before.

 "I'm sorry. I didn't want to disappoint you. I can't imagine you wanted it to be me." Steve whispers, looking sad.

 "Pretty boy, the only way I would have been sad is if it wasn't you writing me." Billy says, and loves that he's close enough to see the words sink in. Steve's eyes widen, and his jaw drops.

 "You… you wanted it to be me?" Steve whispers. Billy steps closer, until their chests almost brush as they breathe.

 "Yeah, Stevie, I did." Billy says, and reaches up to brush some hair away from Steve's face.

 "Wait. If you wanted it to be me, and you aren't mad then that means…." Steve trails off, and Billy smiles at him. "Holy shit, you like me back?!" Steve says, too loud for how close they are standing, but Billy doesn't mind.

 "Yep." Billy says.

 "Holy shit. Can I kiss you?" Steve whispers. Billy grins, and wraps his arms around Steve's neck pulling him in. It's a gentle kiss at first, that quickly deepens. Steve tentatively works his hand into Billy's curls, and at Billy's hum of agreement, grips them tight. Billy licks into Steve's mouth eagerly when Steve opens his lips a little, Billy's arms griping Steve tight to keep him close.

 "Wow." Steve says, pulling back to pant against Billy's lips. Billy chuckles, low and wrecked.

 "I love you too, pretty boy. I've reread all of your letters so many times." Billy whispers, and Steve pulls him close, burying his face in Billy's neck.

 "I can't believe this is happening." Steve says. Billy laughs.

 "Me neither. I was hoping it was you, every time I read one. Remember the one saying you liked being a mystery so I could picture whoever I wanted writing me?" Steve nods against his neck. "I always pictured you. And I don’t care that you’re bi, just as long as you like me." Steve makes a small whining noise at that and pulls Billy closer. Billy smiles, and breathes in Steve's scent. Sweet and spicy and uniquely Steve, and Billy adores it.

 "I believe I was promised cuddles and sweet things whispered in my ear." Billy mutters. Steve laughs, and pulls back to brush his fingers through Billy's hair.

 "Tell me something first." Steve whispers.

 "What's up Stevie?" Billy asks.

"You're really glad it's me? You're not disappointed?" Steve asks, and Billy can see in those earnest brown eyes how worried he actually is.

 Billy yanks him in for another kiss, and pushes his hands into Steve's hair. Steve responds eagerly and tightens his grip on Billy.

 "Yes, baby, I'm very glad it's you. I love you Steve Harrington, just try getting rid of me now." Billy teases. "I need some cherishing." He means it as a joke, but Steve's eyes soften and go a little liquid.

 "Hell yeah you do, and I intend to do a damn good job. I love you too." Steve whispers. Billy grins up at him.

 Steve tugs them upstairs, they tug off their shoes and curl up on the bed. Steve pulls Billy into his arms, and dots kisses over his freckles.

 "Steve Harrington, done in and giving up the secret by a couple freckles." Billy murmurs softly. Steve laughs.

 "Steve Harrington done in by Billy Hargrove, who apparently has freckles." Steve corrects. Billy laughs, and snuggles closer.

 "You still have to write me letters." Billy huffs. Steve laughs and catches Billy in another kiss.

 "I can do that." Steve says, and Billy sighs happily. He falls asleep in Steve's arms, while Steve holds him and counts his freckles.

[ragequitthatshit]

down in flames : sweet pea x reader (chapter 1)

(gif not mine)

Fandom: Riverdale (season 3)

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Andrews!Reader

Warnings: violence, swearing, underage drinking, mention of attempted rape (in a later chapter which can be skipped), angst, gross fluff 

Summary: On his first day of elementary school, one of the bigger kids had pushed Archie to the floor and skinned his knee. You had promised then and there you would protect your brother from everyone and everything in this world.

Now in high school, your main concern should have been that the boy you liked was sleeping with someone else. Instead, you were researching how to cover up a murder and discovering the use of alcohol as a coping method.

Riverdale wasn't safe for anyone these days.

You knew Archie was scared. You knew he felt guilty. You knew he just wanted this all to be over. You didn’t know he’d plead guilty and take the deal of two years in juvenile detention.

The shock you felt jolt through your body left you reeling, bolting from your chair in a reflex to protect, but there was nothing you could do. Next to you, Sweet Pea clasped your wrist and gently tugged you back into your seat. Clinging to him, you absentmindedly noted that you were digging your nails into his exposed forearm, but you were too busy trying to breathe to stop yourself. 

Archie looked accepting, resigned to his fate, but it was the look on your dad’s face that broke your heart. As Archie was led away in handcuffs, he spared you a tight smile that you couldn’t return, tears dripping from your eyes instead. Leaving Betty to console a distraught Veronica, you rushed to your dad, throwing your arms around his waist and burying your face into his shoulder as he clung on to you just as tightly. 

Much later that night, you found yourself sat in a booth right at the back of Pop’s with Betty, Jughead and Veronica. None of you spoke, merely picking at your food and milkshakes, lost in your own thoughts.

It was a strange feeling, like it wasn’t really happening. This was Archie, who got in trouble in elementary school for fighting bullies on behalf of the smaller kids. Archie who protected his family and his friends with everything in him. Archie who loved pancakes and hated mushrooms and wore odd socks - your little brother. It didn’t matter that there was barely 10 minutes difference in age, you still insisted you were elder. 

You were polar opposites in some ways - Archie was reckless where you were methodical, easily manipulated where you had trouble trusting anyone. He could be stupid sometimes, making rash decisions like starting the red circle or chasing after gunmen, but he was good at heart, and there was no way in hell he could ever kill someone. 

And now he was locked up in a place with a bad reputation and you hoped to god that if nothing else, the serpent tattoo would grant him some reprise - he’d need comrades in there even if he wouldn’t have friends. 

You kept opening your mouth to speak, uncomfortable with the silence, but what were you supposed to say? 

Luckily, you were saved by the ring of the bell as the front door was pushed open. In walked a crowd of leather, and you jumped up to greet them. 

Toni was the first to rush forward and hug you, followed by Cheryl and Fangs. They joined the group in the booth as Sweet Pea analysed you with his dark eyes before pulling you into his chest. The familiar smell of leather and smoke was comforting, and you clutched to his jacket for a moment to ground yourself. 

When you stepped back, you quickly wiped at your eyes to rid yourself of any tears and tried to smile up at the boy. He looked concerned, and you knew that your pathetic attempt at fooling him into thinking you were ok wouldn’t work. Still, when he asked if you were alright, you nodded and turned quickly to squash back into the now-crowded booth. Sweet Pea took a seat by your side, leg pressed against yours, and arm draped over the booth behind you. Over the course of the next hour, as the group swapped back and forth between discussing pointless subjects and possible plans to clear Archie’s name or break him out, the warmth of Sweet Pea kept you grounded, and you both pretended not to notice when his phone lit up with Josie’s name several times, instead he turned the device face-down and moved somehow even closer. 

You couldn’t even find it in you to feel guilty.

Despite your dad’s hesitation, you decided to go back to school with the others. It was funny in a sad sort of way that you usually looked for any excuse not to have to go, and then when you had one, you didn’t want it. You just couldn’t stand another day at home. It was so empty and quiet, just you and Vegas, who’d taken to lying on the floor of Archie’s room and whining. 

School wasn’t much better though with all the looks, the whispers. At first it upset you, but a couple of hours in and it was rapidly pissing you the hell off. The second the bell rang for free period, you stormed through the hallways, earphones in and scowling as you threw yourself down into a chair in the corner of the student lounge. Everyone kept their distance, casting glances at your furious scribbling before quickly retreating. Eventually, the bell rang again for lunch and you knew your peace was going to soon be disrupted as people streamed into the room. Mere minutes later, you felt someone looming over you, and quickly grabbed the hand that crept into your peripheral. 

“If you pull out my earphones, I will pull out your lungs.”

Sweet Pea merely laughed and leant against the desk you were hunched over, Fangs by his side flipping through the text book you’d been taking notes from. Knowing it was hopeless, you rolled your eyes to the ceiling before fixing them both with a glare.

“I’m trying to work, what do you two idiots want?”

“For you to pull the stick out of your ass and come sit with us,” Sweet Pea replied with an easy smirk, Fangs snorting in amusement as he passed you your book back. Your glare quickly shot to the shorter boy, who adopted an innocent look and held his hands in the air.

“Don’t look at me, I didn’t say it!”

Huffing, you stood and shoved your belongings back into your bag.

“Drop dead, Fogarty.”

You spun on your heel and headed for the couches to squish into an armchair with Kevin, ignoring the indignant splutter and deep laughter of the boys behind you. Immediately after you sat down, Veronica leant towards you with her usual determined look. 

“So, this football game that Archie’s planning for the juvie boys, what do you think? Want to come and cheer him on with us?” Noting your arched brow of confusion, she elaborated. “Archiekins was saying that the guys in there needed a pep rally more than most, so what better way to raise their spirits than with a good show? The Vixens are practicing the routine tonight ready for Thursday. Join us?”

You wrinkled your nose and gave Veronica a weird look as she waited for your answer.

“Are you asking me to dance like a slut in front of my twin?”

As everyone else laughed, Veronica gave you an unimpressed look at the teasing smile on your face.

“Ok, ok, I’ll take that as a no.”

Grinning, you turned your eyes to Fangs.

“I know someone else who would look great in a mini skirt though.”

Never one to turn down a bet, it wasn’t long before things had escalated and Fangs decided to don one of the cheer uniforms and run around the school in it. His conclusion that he enjoyed the freedom and the breeze that came from a skirt kept you giggling the rest of the day.

Archie was a week into juvie, and already he looked like shit. He was pale and tired, and as a Serpent you had enough experience with fighting to know that he couldn’t sit normally because he was bruised as hell. Concern flooded your face, and you spared the guard a quick look before leaning closer to your brother.

“Arch, who did this?”

Archie looked around them, noting the other prisoners who sat close enough to hear all seemed to be too busy to listen. He turned back around, staring down at his hands instead of you.

“It-” he started, only to quickly close his mouth and shake his head, “it doesn’t matter.”

Glaring at him, you ground out his name in a warning tone. Knowing you weren’t going to drop it, he sighed heavily and leaned in close. 

“Ghoulies,” he mumbled, only meeting your eyes for a second as thunder thrummed in your bones.

“Those fucking sons of bitches!” you spat, hands balling into fists. “What about the Serpents, are they protecting you?”

Archie opened his mouth to reply, but didn’t get a chance as yells rang out, an inmate and their guest throwing punches at one another across the room. The inmates were herded to the far wall as the guards called for the end of visits, ushering you and the other visitors towards the exit. A quick hug and a demand that he stay safe, and you were all but shoved out of the room. You were furious as you began the drive home, hands clenching the steering wheel so tight you stopped being able to fully feel your fingers. 

The Ghoulies had been a problem ever since you’d joined the Serpents, and you had always hated them. Now that they were after your brother? No way were you about to let that slide.

Instead of going home, you’d gone straight to Jughead with an intense need to rant before you exploded. With an agreement that something had to be done, you decided to brainstorm possible ideas the next day after school, and you left the trailer slightly calmer than you had arrived. 

Nothing ever got to be done regarding the juvie situation, as three weeks then went by without anyone being able to see Archie. You and your dad were angry and fearful, unaware of what was happening to him. The Warden’s claims of Archie starting a riot were bullshit, and you all knew it. You were curled up on the sofa watching Game of Thrones reruns as your dad met with his lawyer when your phone buzzed with a call from Veronica.

Intrigued, you quickly answered, and as soon as you heard the name Penny, you were stuffing on your jacket and trainers with the promise you’d be at the speakeasy in 10. Once there, Veronica quickly explained Penny’s offer of protection and the following shipment of Jingle Jangle, as well as her belief that her father was behind it, and her, Cheryl and Toni’s  storming of the drug lab at the Whyte Worm. 

“So you blackmailed your father into backing off, what do you need from me?”

Veronica fixed you with a smile, rounding the bar to hand you a glossy card invitation.

“To come to opening night. Not only do you have to be there as a friend, but also I have a feeling Penny might come sniffing around with threats - we both know she isn’t what you’d call loyal and I wouldn’t put it past her to try and pull something.”

You nodded thoughtfully as you stared at the card in your hand, raising your gaze to meet Veronica with a sly smile.

“I need to speak to her about a Ghoulie infestation anyway. I’ll be there.”

“Excellent! Then there’s just one more thing,” Veronica smiled widely, casting a raised eyebrow at your scuffed trainers and ripped jeans. “Wear a dress.”

That night, La Bonne Nuit was packed out with the younger residents of Riverdale. Josie was singing, drinks were flowing, and everyone was dressed to suit the 20s decor. A black cocktail dress and heels had you fitting in nicely, and you were feeling pretty good as you spent the evening laughing with friends. 

You stayed on alert though, keeping an eye out for Penny or Ghoulies sent to cause trouble. Sweet Pea, Fangs and Jughead were doing the same, keeping a watch on the entryway as they mingled. You were sat in a booth chatting to Betty when you felt eyes on you. A quick glance over the blondes shoulder and you caught Sweet Pea turning back to Fangs to whisper something. They seemed to be having a heated discussion, some stupid disagreement knowing them, but as you carried on talking to Betty you realised that as they talked, the boys swapped between looking at you and looking at Josie. 

You shook off the weirdness, getting lost in anecdotes as more people came to join you, until a hand on your shoulder had you looking up to meet Veronica’s steely gaze. Excusing yourself, with a quick reassurance to Betty that everything was fine, you let Veronica pull you by the hand through the crowd to the bar. There, Reggie looked pissed as he hung up the phone, and you looked at him expectantly.

“Penny’s just pulled up outside and I’m gonna guess she ain’t here for a burger.”

Sighing, you gave Reggie a nod, and beckoned for Veronica to follow you upstairs. On your way, you caught the questioning stare of Sweet Pea, and you cocked your thumb at Reggie in answer. He could explain, you needed to move. Steeling your expression into your ‘I know i’m short but im actually a tough gang member’ face, you pushed past the queue of people still waiting to get into the speakeasy and stalked outside to the car park. 

Illuminated by the light of the diner, Penny leant against her car, her cocky smirk instantly irritating you. Veronica stuck close by your side and, as you’d done several times before, you admired her tenacity. Still, she was out of her element, more used to the organised turn-taking style of mob business rather than the rough and tumble gang fights, so your priority was ensuring she got out of this unscathed. 

“What are you doing here, Penny? I thought I told you that your services were not required, as much as I appreciate the offer.”

Penny snorted at Veronica’s steady words, choosing not to heed the warning and instead pushed off the car and began to stroll towards the two of you. Despite her casual pace and crossed arms, you took a step forward to keep some distance between her and the girl behind you, wary of her intentions. 

Noticing your movement, Penny smiled sickly and stopped in her tracks, narrowed eyes watching you with a dangerous glint.

“My, my, Lodge, you sure are a lucky girl,” the blonde began in a mocking tone, “you always seem to have a little Andrews guard dog yapping around your heels.”

Not in the mood for Penny and her games, your fingers reached for the pocket that wasn’t there, then clenched into fists, teeth gritted as you realised your knife was in your jacket pocket, which was still in the cloakroom.

“Listen, bitch, you’re not welcome here, so get the hell out. Veronica and her speakeasy are protected by the Serpents, so go do your dirty business elsewhere.” 

Your sharp tone and pissed off expression seemed to rile up the older woman, and she took a step closer to square up to you.

“Excuse me? You don’t get to tell me what to do, ok little girl? I could 

you with my pinkie. So how about you and the princess here show me some respect before I have one of my guys on the inside slit your brothers throat.”

You barely heard Veronica’s gasp or the bell above the door signalling someone exiting Pop’s over the rushing of blood in your ears. You didn’t feel yourself move, just felt a wave of total fury before your fist collided with Penny’s cheek. The blonde went sprawling onto the tarmac as you glared down at her, pain shooting up your arm and you learn down to grab the lapels of her jacket and tug her up to a half sitting position so you were face to face. 

“Go anywhere near my brother,” you whispered menacingly, “and you’re fucking dead.” 

Roughly releasing your grip, you stood and backed away as Penny pulled herself up from the ground, laughing as she wiped the trickle of blood from her mouth. 

“Oh, you have no 

what you’re messing with, but I promise you now, I’m gonna kill your bro with my bare hands.” 

You lunged forward, barely making it a step before strong arms pulled you back. Despite the vice grip of leather sleeves and tattooed hands, you still tried to fight free and get to Penny, all the emotions that had been building up for weeks begging to be set free. Either side of you, the Serpents appeared, Fangs half in front of you in a protective stance, and Jughead slouching cockily on your right. 

“You’re outnumbered, Penny, take the advice and get the hell out of here,” ordered the Serpent King, staring her down.

Penny didn’t respond at first, letting her eyes drift over the small group. Finally, with a cheery goodbye, and a smirk that spelled trouble directed at you, she stalked back to her car and made a speedy exit. You watched the lights disappear around the corner in silence, muscles going slack as Sweet Pea relaxed his grip on you. 

Everyone stayed quiet, and you took a few staggered breaths to try and release the adrenaline coursing through you. When you felt sufficiently calmer, you eased Sweet Pea’s hand off of your waist, squeezing his fingers quickly to quell the hard frown he was currently staring you down with. You turned to the others with a quick thank you, flexing your fingers experimentally to make sure you hadn’t damaged anything on Penny’s stupid smug face. You knew they were all staring at you, waiting for you to explode in anger from Penny’s words, and you couldn’t blame them. You had a notoriously short temper, and the strange calm you felt surprised even you. With one last look at the dots of blood on the ground, you avoided the gazes of your friends, striding straight past to head back inside and get a seriously strong drink. 

Exchanging concerned glances, the rest shortly followed, and spent the night on edge as they waited for you to snap.

Instead of snapping, you got wasted. 

It seemed to work, as you were no longer angry - you were stumbling around laughing your ass off instead. Despite the initial worry over your choice of distraction, everyone else had shortly started to drink with you in solidarity, which led to the Serpents and their Northside buddies crashing out of the front door of Pop’s and spilling into the car park way past closing time.

Cheryl and Toni were flirting, Sweet Pea, Jughead and Fangs were play fighting, and you had your arms linked with Kevin and Betty as you slurred through Mean Girls quotes in a competition of who knew the film best. At the corner you split ways to head home, leaving you with Jug, Betty and Sweet Pea. The couple quickly cosied up together, whispering, while you dropped back a few paces to link arms with Sweet Pea. Heaving a contented sigh, you lent your head right back to look up at the stars, and if you weren’t hanging on to the boy next to you for support, you’d be on your ass. 

“You know you live in the opposite direction, right?”

Sweet Pea’s eyes quickly darted to you when you spoke, as if he had been deep in thought. Smiling, he steered you around a lamppost.

“You think I’m gonna trust you walking home alone right now?” You turned to him, opening your mouth but he shot a pointed look at the couple in front of you and beat you to it. “And no, they don’t count, they wouldn’t notice if I got naked and started doing the Single Ladies dance.” 

You laughed unabashedly, prompting another grin from the usually sullen Serpent. 

You walked most of the way in silence, bid goodbye to the loved-up couple outside of your house, and now stood on your porch. The night was quiet, the house dark, and luckily you had sobered up enough in the cool night air to keep your voice low. 

“Thanks for walking me home, Sweets. And thanks for having my back earlier. You’re always there when I need you.” 

His face was gentle, lit softly by the porch light as his eyes searched your face.

“And you’re always there for me. We look out for each other - that’s what friends do, right?”

You felt a stab in your gut at the word ‘friends’, and you took a half-step back as you realized how close the two of you were. 

“Well, still, Penny’s gonna be out of my blood now and you didn’t have to risk being pulled into it, so thank you.” 

You gave him a hug, throat going tight at the feeling of his arms around you. Pulling back with a cough, you gave him a smile and murmured goodnight before twisting around to unlock your door. Before you could disappear inside, Sweet Pea grasped your wrist, tugging you gently to look back at him.

“Don’t do that. Don’t brush off my help and think I give a shit that sticking up for you could get me in trouble. I’ll protect you no matter what, even if it kills me, ok?”

You were stunned and speechless, stood gawping at him until it was his turn to mumble a farewell and stride down the pathway. Collecting yourself, you headed inside, and as you shut the door behind you, your eyes met Sweet Pea’s as he stood on the pavement in front of your house, waiting till you were safely inside before he left.

Leaning back against the cool wood of the front door, you slumped down onto the floor of your dark hallway, head in your hands.

“God, I’m so fucking screwed.”

[thoughtsfromaclutteredbrain]

Wonderwall [Kai Parker Fanfiction]

OK guys, I feel the need to start this chapter with an enormous apology. I can't believe it's been over a year since I've updated this fic! That seriously wasn't my intention, and please believe me when I say that I truly never forgot about it.

In this time that I haven't updated... Welp, it's been a year. i got a huge career opportunity that I jumped on, that suddenly crumbled very badly very fast. i had made friends during this time that completely stabbed me in the back, and I fell in love with someone who I thought was a friend, but it turns out that that give a damn about me. I got a new job recently that completely stole all of my writing time, but now I think I've figured out how to manage my time enough to start posting again, even if it's not as regularly as I would hope. I am still working on pursuing that career opportunity again, since it's a dream and I miss it, so I'm hoping when the opportunity comes again, it won't mess up my writing time this time. But I can't be sure, so please be gentle with me and know that I'm trying my best.

Anyway, that was a long thing just to say that it's seriously been a year, but I honestly do appreciate all the comments I've got on this fic while it's been sitting seemingly abandoned. I love each and every one of you, and I can't put into words how happy I am that you love this fic, and how grateful I am for all your comments.

With that said, this is the second part of the fic, where we time jump a bit. The chapter is a little different because of that, and the next one will be different too. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and don't forget to leave kudos and comments. I read and respond to every one, and I really hope to be able to write and post the next chapter very very soon. Love you all. <3

You can read it on AO3, or you can read it here. Comments and kudos are very much appreciated, and I respond to every anon and comment.

[Table of Contents for the entire fic can be found here]

CHAPTER 11: VISIONS

"I think I'm losing my mind."

I couldn't deny my words, but they tasted like failure in my mouth.

Eighteen years. I had survived eighteen years without reaching this level of helplessless, without feeling so out of control, without feeling like my grip on sanity was slipping.

I thought I had put all of that behind me. I went to anger management for years, trying to reconcile my anger and learn how to control and silence it. I spent years rebuilding my relationship with my mother; it was nowhere close to the bond that we used to hold before everything had happened, but it was something I could live with. We had moved from Oregon to Pennsylvania, moving us across the country in the hopes of giving ourselves a clean slate and a fresh beginning. Therapy had become as normal to me as breathing; going every week to try to work through two lifetimes of baggage and dirty laundry, with the hope of getting to a place where I felt like I was me again. And with those words, it felt like everything, all of those years of self-work and effort, was for nothing.

Mina looked up from her clipboard at me, and I noticed that she had stopped writing to study my face. Her silky auburn hair was falling over her shoulders as she looked at me, her head cocked to the side and her eyes squinted ever so slightly, giving me a view of the winged eyeliner adorning her monolids. My answer had caught her off guard, that much was for sure. After being my therapist for as long as she had been, she was probably just as surprised by my backslide as I was. I had been making such good progress, as she liked to say.

She didn't ask anything else, still processing my response to her standard opening question of how are we feeling today?

I forced myself to look away from her, the weight of her judgment too much to bear at the moment. My eyes landed on the door to her office, tracing over the letters of her name plaque instead.

Mina Lee had been one of the volunteers at my anger management meetings, and once I had been deemed "okay enough" to not have to attend anymore, she had offered to take me as a client for continued therapy. She had been a lifesaver for me, dealing with my breakdowns and anger and years of pain. She was young and a natural at getting me to open up, something I was grateful for. Unfortunately, she was human, not a witch or any other fancy supernatural creature, so I had to hide the details of some of my trauma from her. I felt guilty for doing it; I surely wasn't making her job any easier by withholding information, but it definitely made her much safer. I tried not to let myself care too much for her, despite the fact that she was probably one of the people I was closest to in my life. I had learned years ago that nothing good ever came from getting close to me.

My attention was drawn back to her when she tapped the back of her pen on her clipboard. My eyes shifted to her again, and then down, trying to get a peek at her clipboard. She was used to me doing this though, and was holding it at just the right angle to prevent me from seeing anything.

"I'm not judging you, if that's what you're wondering," she said, knowing me way too well. I knew that she took notes every meeting, and I had told her once that I tried to look at her papers to see if she was pitying me, but I was astonished by her memory nonetheless. She always seemed to remember every detail that I told her, no matter how small. Kai was the only person who had managed to do that before, but I found it easiest to attempt to push his memory as far down as I could. It was better that way, when my memories of him were pushed so far down that I could recall them if I wanted to, but that I was still somewhat shielded from the pain they brought me. But it was getting harder to do that by the day, especially with everything I had been experiencing recently.

"I was just wondering what you meant by that," she continued, her features soft and open, but still looking at me with a hint of an analytical gaze.

I stayed quiet, and the room lapsed into silence again. I knew that she was waiting for my answer, but I was still too rattled by my own confession to answer her.

She let out a quiet sigh, one that she probably didn't want me to hear. I had become a lot more willing to share my feelings in the past year, to the point where therapy felt less like an interrogation and more like a conversation.

But not this time. Not with this.

"Okay..." she started, measuring her words. "Did you have another incident?"

"No."

Incident was her polite way of asking if I had let my anger run wild again. I had never fully disclosed to her the details of my previous 'incidents', but she knew that they were bad and that people had gotten hurt, and I'm pretty sure she was able to figure out that I caused the fire that burned down my childhood home. That was all that she needed to know.

"Well, that's good," she replied, flashing me a quick smile before she made a little note on her clipboard. From what I could see, it looked like she made an x, but I couldn't be sure. I had the urge to use my magic; cast a spell that would allow me to see from her eyes and see what she was writing, but I resisted. It wouldn't feel right to do that to her.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she prompted.

Not really, I thought, but now that I brought it up, there was no way she'd let it go, and she always managed to see straight through my lies.

I grabbed the tips of my hair in between my fingers, playing with the strands as I thought. This had become a habit of mine ever since I had dyed the ends aqua again. The roots remained brown, and faded into the blue color. It had felt like a good way to blend the old and new me, reminding me of the people I had been while still giving me room to become someone else. Seeing this always brought me a strange sort of comfort.

I sighed before I managed to get my words out.

"I've been having... These dreams," I started, and already I was lying. Vision was a better word for what I was experiencing. Dreams don't hit you in the middle or the day, paralyzing your body and clouding your mind with nothing but it. Dreams weren't so terribly vivid that you felt like you had become someone else, were seeing things through someone else's eyes.

Her features faltered as she looked down at her notes for a second, so quick that I could've missed it if I wasn't looking straight at her. It felt like she was trying to remember if I had ever mentioned anything about dreams before.

I hadn't. This was definitely a new experience.

"Something tells me you've been dealing with this for a bit?"

I stayed quiet, forcing myself to tear my gaze away from her and look down at my shoes instead. She could always tell when something was off, and in this case,  she knew that the only reason I was bringing this up was because it was becoming too much to bear. I replied with a soft nod.

More pen scratches on her clipboard. I didn't even try to look this time, not wanting to know what she was thinking about me in the moment.

"What is it about these dreams? What has you rattled?"

"They... Aren't me," I started, knowing that the words coming out of my mouth didn't make any sense. I wanted to have more time to think over what I was saying, but knowing Mina, she would continue to push until I answered her. I was sure she was already judging me, so I decided to just go for it. "Like... it doesn't feel like me. I'm seeing people I don't know, places I've never been before, having reactions that I wouldn't have. And..."

I cut myself short, not willing to finish the sentence. I could feel the cracks in my heart starting to open up just thinking about it. I feared that if I spoke it, it would make it real.

"I hear him. In my head."

Her expression faltered for the quickest of seconds, flashing momentarily into surprise before she regained her stoic posture. She didn't even dignify that with an immediate response. She just immediately went to scribbling down notes onto her clipboard.

I wanted to snap that pen of hers in half, but I resisted.

"Okay," she started slowly. I could tell she was tiptoeing now, not wanting to say the wrong thing and trigger me even more than she knew I already was. "I'm going to assume here, that when you say him, you mean you're hearing... Kai?"

"Yes," I whispered, scared of the quiver my voice would hold if I spoke above that volume.

Years of sessions had been filled with stories about the mystery boy Kai from my past. I had never given her enough information for her to identify him, and tie him to the murders of the Parker family years ago in Oregon, but I had told her enough about the trauma that had been left in his wake before he left me and died.

The love I had for him. The fear I had for his safety, day in and day out. The pain he caused me. The abandonment I felt the last time I spoke to him. The shock at finding out about his death. And the trauma that finding out about his crimes caused me.

Mina nodded, and in that simple movement, I could tell that surprisingly, she wasn't judging me. I had been her client for years, and somehow, she still managed to shock me. I was sure this wasn't a claim she heard every day, and with the progress I had been making in her care, surely she wasn't expecting me to suddenly be hearing the voice of a dead man.

But she didn't ask any of that. Instead, she capped her pen and placed her clipboard facedown on the table between us. I could reach out and snatch it up before she even had a chance to reach out for it. But we both knew that I wouldn't. She leaned forward, directing all of her attention to me.

"And are these memories?" She asked. "Are these things that he had told you before, echoing in your dreams?"

I was shaking my head before she had even finished her sentence. "No, this... This is different. He had never said any of these things to me before. It's completely new. And, the people I'm seeing... I don't know who they are."

That was the part that was most troubling to me. I could chalk Kai's voice up to my mind finally betraying me and playing tricks on me, but I couldn't explain the images I was seeing in the visions.

She grabs the clipboard again, rearranging it so she had a fresh page. "What do they look like?"

"A blonde girl. Wild curly hair, young face, blue eyes. She was bleeding. Screaming."

As I describe the girl, my mind recalls the visions I had with her. She was on the floor, clutching at her head and bleeding from her nose, as if someone was hurting her with magic. Her scream rang out through the air, coupled with his voice ringing in my ears.

I get my emotions mixed up.

"A girl. Dark skin, short hair, sad eyes. Beautiful. She was in a club."

The red and white lights flash across my vision as I describe her. She was staring at me with glassy, wide eyes, and looked absolutely terrified, like she was seeing a ghost. The faint sound of music played in the background, but I wasn't able to make out the song. It didn't matter anyway. I was more concerned about his voice. The words I heard then were different.

I wanted to apologize for anything I did that hurt you.

"A guy. Blue eyes, dark hair, sharp jawline. Looked shifty."

He was in a dark room with stone walls surrounding. He was in a dark leather jacket, and nerves were filling his features. The words didn't make sense with the image to me, but they seemed to anger the man in the vision.

Not if she were like you.

"A guy with long blonde hair. Short. He was far away. I couldn't make out his features too well. It was nighttime."

He was standing far away, but squared up directly at me. His posture looked confident in himself, and like he was trying to challenge me in some way. The voice sounded just as confident.

I always win.

"A girl. Tan skin. Lots of brown hair. She was in chains. She looked tired."

She hung limply from the ceiling of what looked like a high school. Her hair was falling over her face in waves, but it did nothing to hide the exhaustion evident in her features, nor did it hide the terror in her eyes. The words that coupled the image sent a chill down my spine.

Anyway, do you mind if I try to turn your blood to acid again?

"Young boy. Long brown hair. Dark eyes. He looked angry."

He was in a house I had never seen before. The walls were made of a dark wood, and there were ornate furnishings all around. I had a feeling that there were other people in the room that I couldn't see, and that the words I heard were directed at all of them, not just him in particular, but that didn't help them to make any more sense.

I tried every method in the book.

"Short blonde hair. Older guy. Rage in his eyes."

He was standing in a doorway, and from the look on his face, I couldn't imagine how he hadn't slammed the door in my face yet. His entire face was set in an expression that couldn't make his disdain for me any clearer. His voice echoed the sentiment.

I know you hate me.

"Black hair, blue eyes. A girl with super pale skin. I think she was sick. She looked like she hated me. She looked familiar, though."

I found my brain replaying this one the most. The person I saw had a weird sense of familiarity to her, like a memory that had somehow fallen through the cracks. Behind the hatred burning in her eyes, I could sense a bit of concern. This vision was stronger than the others, his voice booming louder in my head.

Could you please fix me? Like now?

Mina stayed quiet as I spoke, not even looking up at me, keeping her focus on her paper as she scribbled down everything I was saying. We fell into another silence, but this one felt emptier. It felt like my claims were hanging between us, making the air heavy and thick with my insanity.

"I feel crazy,"  I continued, desperately wanting to fill the empty air. "But it's real. I know it is, and I see it, and I don't even feel like me when it happens. It feels like I'm in someone else's body."

I let out a chuckle, but it was devoid of humor. "I know it sounds crazy. I'm sure you have a lot to write from that, But yeah."

At that, she looked up at me. I couldn't place the look in Mina's eyes, but it looked pretty damn close to pity. I hated the sight.

A knock sounded through the room, tearing our attention away from each other and to the door. We both knew what that meant; session over. She was always fully booked, and so even if I wanted to get some more time with her, I could never manage to. She had given me her personal cell number to text if I ever needed to talk more, but I felt guilty using it. I already threw enough onto her plate. I didn't need to add more when she wasn't even on business hours. Plus, texting her about my problems would make my brain start to see her as less than my therapist and more as my friend. I needed the buffer there; I needed to see her as anything but my friend. Bad things happened to people who got close to me.

Mina sighed again, a sound she seemed to constantly make around me. She rose to her feet, and despite not wanting to, I followed her lead, standing up as well. She took one last look at her clipboard before once again placing it facedown on the table.

"I, for one, don't think you're crazy," she told me, and I could see that she was sincere. But it did nothing to ease the sick feeling in my gut when I thought about the visions.

"I just think that you have... A lot of trauma. And maybe something we did in one of our previous sessions triggered trauma that you had buried before. Things you wished he would have said, fears about his mental state towards the end."

I nodded slowly, processing her words. It was possible, but it felt like something bigger. Something... Less normal, but I couldn't tell her that. "And the people?" I asked instead.

"I think that's something we have to dig deeper into," she said simply. Which, to me, meant she had no freaking clue either, but I nodded anyways.

She came around the table, placing a hand on my shoulder. I flinched at the contact.

"You've made great progress," she said, her voice soft. "Don't let this make you forget it, okay?"

I nodded. I couldn't bring myself to look into her eyes, and I couldn't bear to be there any longer.

I rushed out of the office, letting the cool night breeze hit my face and blow my troubles away. I closed my eyes and tried to take in the serenity of the night. That was, until I felt someone tap my shoulder. I turned around to face the person. Mina.

The streetlamps bounced her honey skin, almost illuminating her in the darkness. She stepped closer, until she was by my side.

"Let me walk you to your car," she said, and as I looked at her, I didn't see any judgement on her face. What I saw was genuine care for me. It shocked me, but I allowed myself to nod and fall into step with her.

Being near Mina was easy. It was normal, the closest thing I had had to normal in quite some time, especially since everything that had happened with Kai. I knew that she didn't see me as anything more than a patient and a friend, and it was for the best. I tried to avoid moments like this with her, moments where my mind could run wild and think of us as anything more than patient-client, but I let myself indulge today.

I'd put my walls back up tomorrow.

Conversation was effortless with her. It was ever flowing and natural and made me feel like I didn't have to take myself too seriously, and it was no different this night. It was a feeling I hadn't felt in a while.

I wasn't sure if I had been so lost in conversation that I didn't notice, but two men appeared in front of us suddenly.  We both stopped, shock filling us as we looked at the two guys in front of us.

The first had light brown hair standing up all over his head. His features were soft, with sad, old eyes, and had a backpack slung across one shoulder. But it was the second man who gave me pause. His features were sharp, a stark contrast to the features of the other.  He was wearing a leather jacket, and his blue eyes looked determined but also mischievous.

Sharp jawline. Leather jacket. Shifty eyes. It was him. One of the men I had seen in my visions.

"You..." I whispered, too startled to say anything else. Mina was silent beside me, and I prayed she was seeing him too, and that my visions hadn't upgraded to full blown hallucinations.

"Hi," the familiar guy said, waving his hand to dismiss my words. "Which one of you is Halyn Chase?"

I didn't reply, my brain still too busy trying to process the events happening before me. Mina took a step forward, blocking me with her body, and stepping to the man. It gave me relief.

He was really here.

"What do you want with her?" Mina asked him, her voice protective and stern.

"Oh okay," he responded, sounding sure of himself. "Then it's not you."

He stepped forward and placed his hands on her shoulders, locking eyes intensely with her before I could say anything.

"Go home," he demanded. "Forget this ever happened."

He removed his hands, and she started to walk away, as if in a trance. I tried calling out for her, but she didn't even acknowledge my voice.

"What did you do to her?" I asked. My voice rose as I felt anger building in my chest. Who did this guy think he was, and why did I see him in my mind?

"Good, now that you're alone," he said, completely ignoring my question, and sounding so smug that all I wanted was to slap him. I resisted. "You need to come with me."

"Like hell, I will."

"Well, I tried. Time for the easy way," he said, and started to take a step towards me, before the other man grabbed his arm.

"What are you doing, Damon?" the other asked him. "You can't just compel her."

Compel?  Where had I heard that word before?

"Well, if you have another idea, I'm all ears. We don't have time to convince her of things."

The familiar man, Damon I guess, pulled his arm free of the other and stepped towards me, locking eyes with me in the same way he had just done with Mina.

"Come with me," he commanded.

I waited for a spell to activate, for something to happen... Nothing.

So I did my own spell.

Damon went flying, my spell throwing him across the park until he hit the back of a tree stump. He looked taken aback, but not completely surprised at my use of magic. I walked forward with my hand still outstretched, the gesture keeping him securely pinned to the wall as if my hand was around this throat,

"A witch? Seriously?" He sounded more annoyed than bewildered at the discovery.

"Who the hell are you guys?" I asked.

"I should be asking you that," he countered. "Why on Earth are you on vervain?"

Vervain? Vervain was one of the first things I had added to my routine once I got my memories back. My mom had worked to help me to better control my powers, and to protect me from the darkness that had threatened to consume me, the darkness that bubbles under the surface when I'm not careful. I had been wearing an anklet laced with vervain for years at this point, remembering her warning of how it protected my magic from getting into the wrong hands. But most of all, I remembered what exactly she had told me vervain would protect against. Or who, for that matter.

"You're a vampire?" The question was more rhetorical than literal, but with the way his face blanked, I knew I was right. "I've read all about your kind. The dangers."

"Says the girl who's has me pinned against a tree."

I didn't say anything to that, instead just rolling my eyes at how he could still sound so sure of himself and cocky when he clearly didn't have the upper hand in this situation.

I muttered another spell and slowly started to close my grip, watching as the effects of the magic started to run its course, tightening my magical grip on Damon, pulling him off of his feet and lifting him into the air a bit.

He groaned. "You psycho," he breathed out, the tightening obviously impairing his ability to speak. But it did nothing to prevent me from hearing his next words.

"No wonder Kai knew you."

My jaw dropped at the mention of his name, that name I hadn't heard in so long. The name that had echoed in my dreams whenever I closed my eyes. The name that's been on my lips for eighteen years. The name that could instantly make me breathless.

My focus faltered, and the spell was broken. My hand fell to my side limply as Damon followed suit, crashing hard to the ground as he sputtered for breath.

"Thanks for the help, Stefan," he rasped out when he got his breath, scowling at the other man with him, who had done nothing to prevent me from suspending him in the air. For the briefest of moments, I wondered what that was about. But I was too preoccupied to let myself be concerned with that.

"How do you know that name?" I demanded,

"I wish I didn't," the man replied from the floor. "He's been a real pain in my ass. Making everything a lot more difficult."

"What are you talking about?" I growled at him, taking big strides until I had closed the distance between us. "He... he's dead."

Saying those words never ceased to send a chill through my body. After all this time, and after all the therapy I had went through, I still could never fully come to terms with what had happened. How everything could've been so much different. After everything he did; to his family, to me, I still couldn't help but long for more time for him. I couldn't help but wonder what would've happened if we had more time.

Damon scoffed from his spot on the ground, the sound turning into a cough as it left his hoarse throat. "Yeah, see, he's not dead yet."

"What..." I started, but the word died on my lips, coming out as a breath. I felt a hand on my shoulder, and turned to see that the man addressed as Stefan had come over to me. His eyes were full of concern.

"Kai isn't dead, Halyn." He stated with confidence. At my reaction, his voice softened. "He's in Mystic Falls, and he's about to do something terrible. We need your help to stop him."

My brain couldn't process any of his words. How? How was it that Kai could be alive? Josette had told me herself. He was gone. But I couldn't help the ache in my chest at his words. I wanted so badly to believe him.

"Why should I believe anything you say? And how did you find me?" I asked him, my voice coming out small.

"Why would we drive hundreds of miles to trick some random girl?" Damon questioned as he rose to his feet, his voice dripping with sarcasm and annoyance. I ignored his words.

"A friend did a tracking spell for us. It led us here to you" Stefan responded.

He swung his backpack around to his front, and I watched in a daze as he unzipped it and rummaged through the contents for a second. He passed me a map, showing the trail of blood that led them to me, emanating from the spot that reads Mystic Falls.

With what? I wanted to ask him. I was so in my head I wasn't even sure if I had voiced the words or not. My thoughts were still running at lightning speed, trying and failing to make sense of any of this, desperately wanting it to be true almost as much as I was trying to disprove their words.

My eyes were still fixed on the map when Stefan removed another item from the bag, and I felt it before I even saw it.

The unmistakable pull of Kai overtook me, drawing a gasp from my lips and leaving me breathless. The wave of energy was so strong, or maybe it just felt that way after eighteen years of it lying dormant. My bones began to buzz immediately, and the feeling of pure light in my veins was something I hadn't felt in a long time.

I looked up at Stefan, gasping for breath as my gaze fell from his eyes down to his outstretched hands. His words sound muffled in my ears, as if the energy is drowning me and he's speaking to me from above water.

"We found this with Kai's belongings. It seems important to him, but..."

His words trailed off as he extended his arms even further, practically putting the item into my hands. My whole body felt numb as I recognize it immediately, lightly letting it fall into my hands. There was no denying it, but my brain couldn't help but turn it over in my hands. This entire thing was impossible. I had to make sure it was real.

But there it was, my old black scarf back in my hands. The material was worn and thin, and looked more gray than black at this point from years of wear. There were some holes in the fabric, some blood, and a stain that I knew was made by someone wiping pork rind crumbs onto the fabric. It smelled partially musty, the way that old material starts to smell over time, but there was another scent mixed in that was undeniably Kai.

My breath got caught in my chest as I found what I was looking for. I felt tears begin to fall from my eyes, but I was too preoccupied to even attempt to wipe them away. My heart seemed to stop as I looked down at the tag, where I had written my name in Sharpie pen many many years ago. The letters were faded from time, but there was no mistaking my penmanship.

This was it. This was the scarf I had given to Kai all those years ago, and with it, I felt him again. Our connection. Our magic calling out to each other.

My mind was screaming at me, drowning out the millions of thoughts I was thinking with one phrase, repeating over and over again.

He's alive. He's alive. He's alive.

When I found my voice again and spoke, the words came out clipped, leaving no room for debate, and full of determination.

"Take me to him."

If you would like to be tagged in future chapters, or removed from the taglist, let me know.

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@faemae00​

[manggojooz]

Pick A Side (Part 5)

pairing: Taehyung x reader

word count: 2,300 approx

genre: university!au; angst; romance; slice of life stuff

warnings: none

previous part: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

taglist:  @destiel1597 @mila271 @hopetookmysoul@ximaginx @honeyursosweet

It was the first night of the freshman orientation camp. On your way back from brushing your teeth, you passed by the room where all the senior girls were gathered when you heard a symphony of loud shrieks.  

“I knew it! I knew you have set your eyes on Kim Taehyung!!”, one senior screams as another lets out a long squeal.  

“You pick the cutest freshman every year! Hyesoo sunbaenim~ do you think you can let the cute freshman go this year? Give us a chance woman~~”, the same girl whined.  

“What makes you think he’ll just accept Hyesoo? He looks like he would be picky-”, someone pointed out logically.  

“Ya, I’m Park Hyesoo, if I set my eyes on someone, I’m getting him, whether he likes it or not”, she said threateningly, “Hey Jinju, tomorrow is the treasure hunt right?”, she turns to ask another camp organiser who nods in response. “Perfect... none of you make any moves, you hear me?”  

“Ugh, Hyesoo, don’t forget what happened with the freshman you tried to get it with last year”, one of the other senior girls visibly rolled her eyes while grousing.  

“Why are you bringing that up again?”, Hyesoo sounded annoyed.

One of their friends must have wanted to break up the tension as she pounced between them, “Hyesoo probably stands the best chance anyway. Good thing I spotted another pretty cute guy in the other team...”

You now sat in your dorm room remembering the scene you witnessed, feeling utterly unsurprised that as senior who objectifies her juniors would have used her position to torment you like that. She probably heard the news about your break up with Taehyung and thought that putting you in the same group with him and Jihyun would entertain her malevolent wants.

To not let her feel overly-victorious, you had chosen to accept the arrangement, and your first group meeting was scheduled for tomorrow.

You tried to focus on the reading that you had to do for class, but the disgust your body generated from recalling the seniors’ conversation and the dread of having to meet the two people you wanted to avoid the most tomorrow constantly disrupted your focus. Just then, your phone lying at the corner of the table buzzes.  

“Y/N, do you have some time now? Can we talk? I'm downstairs.”

You look upwards to identify the sender. “Kim Taehyung”. You had only changed the contact name back to his real name after you witnessed him walk into class with Jihyun. Even changing it to “Taehyung” wouldn’t have sufficed then, that’s what his friends would call him, you were probably lesser than that.  

---

“Alright that’s all the instructions I have. Now please find someone, preferably of the opposite gender, to partner up with before we start the treasure hunt!”, a male senior yelled lazily towards a room full of freshmen. He had a slur to his words and introduced himself as Yoongi.  

“Since our group has an odd number of freshmen, one of you have to pair up with one of us. How about Taehyung, would you like to go with me?”, Hyesoo flashes her signature catty eye smile.  

She was incredibly direct in her approach. Taehyung felt incredibly uncomfortable. And everyone else remained incredibly silent.  

“Hyesoo-ah, let the freshmen pick first, why are you calling dibs on a junior?”, Yoongi refreshingly disses her as he saunters by. Yoongi was one year senior to Hyesoo. She couldn’t wear it on her sleeve but she was probably cursing him in her head.  

“What are you guys waiting for? I’m not asking you to get married, hurry choose a partner...”, Yoongi continues to rush everyone in an irritable but mildly comic tone, obviously not very fond of this job he was assigned to do.  

For Taehyung, the signpost seems to have already been planted. Nobody dared to approach him. He couldn’t blame anyone, Hyesoo was infamous amongst the freshmen before the orientation even began anyway.

But all of a sudden, a tiny voice came from behind him “Hey, you wanna do this together?” He turns to meet your uncertain eyes, your right hand nervously rubbing the knuckle of your left thumb.  

Were you not aware of the potential consequences? He was grateful. But no, he shouldn’t implicate you. But yes, he really wants to accept your offer.  

His silence made you doubt every jump of your muscles and even two seconds were too much to bear. “It’s ok if you don’t want to...”, you smiled awkwardly and started to turn around.  

Hyesoo was watching the two of you through the corner of her eyes. She seizes the moment and marches towards Taehyung. “Taehy-”, she starts.  

“Let’s do it together”, he grabs a hold of your arm in a flash.  

Now, Taehyung leaned against the railing of the stairs outside the entrance to your dorm, he places the red bean latte he had been holding on the ledge as he continues to reminisce the events.  

He had offered to buy you a drink that day. You ordered this red bean latte and he recalls how he joked that you seem to have the preferences of an old lady.  

“Are you not afraid of offending Hyesoo?”, he had asked as he handed you the red bean latte back then.  

“I heard some things and I just thought since our group had more girls anyway... you shouldn’t be the one pairing up with her...”, you explained but avoided the details of what you had overheard.  

“Thanks. I’ve heard a number of things too, and I really didn’t want it to be me this time...”, he sighed.

“Sometimes it’s not that great to be good-looking huh?”, you cheekily teased him, your eyebrows slightly bobbing.  

He suddenly leaned forward, “Does that mean you think I'm good-looking?”, he asked dorkily.  

Taehyung smiles at the memory. At that time, he thought it was just his gratitude to you for saving him multiple times from a randy senior. Come to think of it now, it probably started then. When you came to his side when nobody else would.  

His heart had started to lean on you.  

A click of the door lock startles him. You walked out through the translucent glass door, stopping halfway when you saw him waiting outside in the cold. He stood up straight from his slouching, dropping his folded arms to his side.  

Has he ever let you lean on him?  

---  

“I got this for you”, he clears his throat and holds out the warm drink. The night was freezing, and you were kind of grateful for the coziness the paper cup provided to your hands.  

“Were you busy doing something?”, he was looking straight at you while you avoided his eyes. It still hasn’t changed has it? The fact that you avoided him more.  

“A little”, you kept your voice as calm as possible and the contents of your reply as sparse as possible. “What did you want to say?”, you hoped this could be over before the latte became entirely cold, so you prompted him to just get to the point.  

“It’s late...”, he mumbles.

“It is”, you said over his words, remembering that you still had class next morning.  

“... to be doing this, but I’m sorry”, his gaze still resting on your dimly-lit face.

You look up sharply, finally meeting his puppy-like eyes. Maybe it was from the dry wind, but his eyes looked like they were strained a flush of red.  

“I’m sorry for not taking your side when you needed me to. I’m sorry for thinking you were being petty and not holding on to you. I’m sorry I accepted Jihyun even though I knew it will hurt you. I’m sorry for all of it. I genuinely thought I wasn’t hurting anyone if I stood in the middle.  

     I think now I know why they say “he who walks in the middle of the roads gets hit from both sides.” But only in this case I am the one hitting people on both sides. I was wrong and even if it’s late, I think I should apologise to you.”  

This is truly abrupt and out of the blue. You had wanted an apology like that since that night you broke up with him. But what made him realise all these suddenly?  

“It’s late.... I think I'm gonna go up now...”, you got up to head back, not sure how to respond to the unforeseen and intense apology, somewhat regretting coming down to meet him in the first place.  

“Can we... still be friends?”, he carefully whispered, his voice sounding like the raspy wind that blew throughout the cold winter nights. He wouldn’t even fathom standing another chance with you so all he could think of asking was this.

Did he just ask to be your friend? What does that mean?  

“I’ll think about it...”, you just wanted to leave, everything was too confusing for you to comprehend at this time, and in this bitter cold.  

You turned to escape back to the warmth of your room. He stared listlessly at your back-view drifting further. Maybe it was because his ears were freezing, but he could hear every footstep you took, each sound piercingly leaving a mark somewhere within.  

The feeling was inexplicable.  

But at least you said you would think about it, at least you haven’t made up your mind. The red bean latte sat on the wooden table, untouched. He used to believe that ex-lovers are lesser than strangers; so why does he feel like he would give up anything to even just remain at your side as a friend now?  

It was all inexplicable.  

---

The next day you were heading to the photography club room, thinking of borrowing a new lens from one of the seniors to experiment with. You turned the corner into the corridor that housed the photo wall, you recognise the side profile that came into view and curiously walked over to him.  

He stood facing the wall littered with photographs, his shirt tucked neatly into his pastel blue jeans as always, a piece of yellow paper pinched between his fingers. You peeked at it and there was a verse scribbled on it, similar to those which had been left on your photographs earlier.  

“You are the one who’s been leaving the post-its?”, your astonishment palpable. 

Facing you now, he smiles warmly and holds out the post-it in his hand, inviting you to take it.  

“Why are all of your poems so sad?”, you asked, taking the note into your own hands.  

“Why are all of your photos so sad?”, he turns the tables on you instead.  

You stuck the paper onto your photo, “I guess because I have no one by my side, and that would make anyone sad.”  

“I guess that’s why we get along... if you want to, I can be on your side from now on”, Haejoong answers.  

---

Taehyung watches Haejoong and you chatting and walking into the café together until both of you reached the table he sat at, his right thumb unconsciously squeezing the back of his left hand extra hard.  

“I heard about your break up. Is that why Jihyun’s not here today? Is she intending to change to another group?”, Haejoong enquired as he puts his stuff down on the seat opposite Taehyung, while you picked the seat diagonally across.

You were shocked to hear about the development but tried to pretend that you were not. There must be some connection between this and his sudden apology last night.  

“News indeed travels fast”, Taehyung was unimpressed.  

“News about you always travel fast, Kim Taehyung”, Haejoong’s tone was indecipherable. He didn’t seem to dislike Taehyung a lot but he didn’t seem to like him either. “Anyway, let's just go ahead with the discussion, whether she’s coming or not...”, Haejoong suggested.  

---

“Are you going back to the hostel?”;

“I’ll send you back-”

Taehyung and Haejoong blurted at the same time as the three of you exited the café. The two of them turning to stare at each other.  

It took no longer than a heartbeat before you edged yourself closer to Haejoong, “Didn’t you say you wanted to show me a camera which you wanted to recommend? Let's go do that first then head back.”  

“Sure, let’s do that”, his boyish smile comforting as usual, and he calmly tilts his head at Taehyung, “See you then.”

“See you”, you flashed a customary smile before turning away and walking up to Haejoong who was waiting for you to follow him.  

Taehyung couldn’t say a single word, as if he had lost his voice. If watching you walk away last night felt miserable, watching you walk away with Haejoong felt indescribably worse. He hears two sets of footsteps this time, in sync, fading away. His hands were clenched hard and shaking. It was freezing outside, but his insides felt colder.  

Some people constantly stand by you, but just because they were next to you when you needed them, it doesn’t always mean you were next to them when they needed you. He felt like such a cliché, for only when you left, did he feel the importance of your presence. But for you, perhaps, his absence meant that you were free to find someone better to fill that spot.  

He’s not begging to return to you; his heart never left. You are not a past love to him. So, he can never be your friend.

The sounds hounding him were different now that he figured out what went wrong. He, was what was wrong, and there was nothing he could say to salvage that.

It’s his fault.  

When he chose nothing, he actually made his choices. Even if he had not realised it then, they were still his choices, and therefore this pain, his consequences.

It was all his fault.  

---

Taehyung passes by the photo wall and turns to look at the picture bearing your name, staring at the note stuck to it:  

“The pain in my throat gets worse Try to cover it I don’t have a voice Today I hear that sound again”

It hurts. It all hurts.  

[yayninjabob]

Author Commentary

Ramblings from Yay Ninja Bob about her monstrous creation~

Besides working on my fic, I personally try to journal every day, and I realized that a lot of my journaling has become me pretty much rambling about the process of writing this damn fic lol.  So I thought I'd share some of that for those who may want to know more behind my chapters from my author's perspective. 

It's certainly not everything I can say, but it is a lot haha..

Chapter 1 - Thirteen

Behind the title:

    Well, when I first began writing VillainR, I hadn't planned on having chapter titles at all.  Mainly because coming up with chapter titles (or titles for stories in general) has always been something I struggle with personally.  Anywho after I decided I wanted to challenge myself with chapter titles, I went back and named chapter 1 "Thirteen."  Why?  Well, it is the PpG's thirteenth birthday, of course there is that.  VillainR as a whole is many things, but one major thing is it is a coming of age story for Buttercup/Joey/Jojo, as well as a story of self-discovery.   There's a few important ages I wanted to cover and 13 is around the age where many kids start to "develop" and being a super-powered kid,  Buttercup finally begins to develop her own "special power" at this age.  I wanted this "growing pain" to be the catalyst for the events of Part One.  So, I gave the chapter the title of "Thirteen" to try to highlight the significance of that age for Buttercup. The self-discovery made at this age is that special power (although they are unaware of it at this point).  It's considered an unlucky number, and as it turns out, it is an unlucky year for our main character.

During the writing process:

     First draft was written on Halloween night 2019 and pretty much all of it was completely scrapped haha. 

     I started writing it in first person, like the original Villain, in Buttercup's POV.   I kept the events but approached it again in third person and liked it so much better that way.  One major thing I wanted to improve on with the rewrite was character development which is pretty hard to achieve when writing in a limited POV of a character who eventually loses sight of much around them.  I debated briefly on maybe doing alternating POVs between Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup, but then I felt like it would still exclude a lot for other major characters like Mojo and Princess.  I could add them too but I thought alternating too many POVs would be overwhelmingly difficult (for me as the author for sure but I imagine for the reader too)  Third person seemed to be the best way to handle everything and really my only challenge with that was tweaking the whole "unreliable narrator" trope which I will be honest is my favorite trope ever. It is a challenge to try to recreate the same effect in third person, but I decided that a close third person was the best way to 1) tell a broader story and 2) still set limits on the reader's perspective, and control when and how I drop information and attempt to recreate a similar experience in an entirely new way I've never tried before heh.  (I guess I will spend more time on this on my notes for Chapter 6)

     Second draft I scribbled out in another few days with this new approach.  It began at the start of the carnival and ended where it ends.   Simultaneously I was reworking my overall outline for the fic and began to narrow down all the characters I wanted to be my key players for this epic.  Once my outline was expanded to include everyone, I added the scene with Mojo and Him.  For me, that's when I was like "Ayyy it's all coming together 👍👍" haha.

     Another thing I wanted to improve on was setting and world-building.  So final draft I decided to include some "history" behind Townsville and that's when I worked out the final draft.

    This chapter definitely had the most trial and error during the writing process than any other chapter other than 5 so far.

Inspirations:

     Townsville world-building/history - much of it is inspired by the city I grew up in (for the most part) which is Los Angeles. I mean it has all the sort of settings we've seen in the show which are all pretty diverse right?  Townville had to have a diverse cityscape ranging from a busy downtown setting to quite suburbs to upperclass mansions, beaches, an island, forests, etc.  Well I knew LA had all that and so I tried to re-imagine Townsville as basically an alternate universe LA lol. Monster Isle, I based on research I did on Catalina Island.  I imagined the Utonium household was in a middle class neighborhood like Pasadena- close to the heart of LA but still a relatively "calmer" part of the city.  Morbucks Manor would be in the Hills like Beverly Hills.  Downtown was the heart of the city like Downtown LA.  I debated briefly whether or not to have the Gangreen Gang be from an area modeled after South Central or East LA, but eventually I went with East LA because TBH I am just more familiar with it since that's where my mom's side is from and where I grew up early on in life.  PLUS East LA actually has a pretty big punk scene so that fit the story too with Ace being in a punk band and all that. 

1998 PpG Show References:

     "Oh my gosh they have giant Bunny-Bunny's at the prize tent!"

    (Super Zeroes)

Pop Culture References:

   (OK most of my pop culture refs are just punk references lets be honest lol.  Why Punk?? - because it is rebellion and rebellion is the heart of this fic)

     The Clash - OK in original Villain I established that this was Buttercup's favorite band so I HAD to have that back for the redux. Here's all the refs I crammed into chapter 1 lol:

   "Oh, Man! It's so hard to choose, like, I love literally everything by them. But I gotta say it's a tie probably between their first album and London Calling."

"Hell yeah. Jimmy Jazz is my jam."

"You know, my band does a cover of White Riot," Ace continued to talk music with the teenager as he lit his cigarette and took a deep drag. He held the smoke in his lungs as he continued, "Only we call our version Green Riot."

Blondie:

     The one artist Buttercup had introduced Robin to that she instantly obsessed over was Blondie.

(Some) Symbolism:

     - Blossom is 5'9" and Buttercup is 5'8" - Buttercup is always falling one step behind Blossom.

     - Bumper Car scene - has some foreshadowing and well...

Blossom sat behind the wheel of a red bumper car at the opposite end of the metal floored rink. Buttercup crossed her arms in protest, "No way. I'm driving." she demanded.

Blossom also crossed her arms from where she sat behind the metal wheel. "So you can just rampage and crash into everybody here? No way." She fastened her seat belt with a quick snap and placed her hands firmly on the steering wheel again.

"Ugh. That's the whole point of bumper cars! It's to bump the other cars! You're supposed to try and bump everyone before the times up!"

"You always take it too far, Buttercup. I'm driving, so get in." The redhead grasped the steering wheel in her hands firmly, and refused to move.

And...

"You drive like an old lady," Buttercup shook her head in disbelief as her sister managed to avoid yet another collision.

"Well, that's your opinion," she shrugged off the insult, "Personally, I think it takes just as much skill to avoid every single car in here, as it does to hit every single car," she smiled at her sister.

And finally a brief allusion to the OG Villain lol...

"Blossom!" Buttercup shouted louder so she could get her sister's attention. She pointed at the fast approaching purple car that zoomed towards them from their right side. Behind the wheel of that car was Bubbles who wore a rather determined look on her face as Robin cheered for her.

Blossom saw, but by then it was too late. Bubbles and Robin's car slammed into Buttercup and Blossom's car at full force, spinning Buttercup and Blossom's car into the wall of the arena. The loud buzz which signified the end of the ride then sounded.

    - the roller coaster is Buttercup's ideal carnival attraction; it's got the thrills, twists, turns, ups and downs.  And makes Bubbles sick.

     - the Ferris Wheel is Blossom's ideal carnival attraction; it's a staple of any fair, grand and big, overlooks everything, and traditionally romantic

YNB's favorite scene:

     Personally, I loved writing the whole exchange between Buttercup and Blossom in the car.  Establishing their rivalry, Buttercup's jealousy over Blossom's special power and heroism, Blossom's projection of her own insecurities, their differences, and their commonality. 

Final thoughts on the chapter:

     I was pretty satisfied with how it turned out but I did wait to post it until I had a decent headstart on chapter 2.  I was pretty nervous about whether or not I could stay personally committed to writing this fic so I just wanted to make sure I was really feeling it first, lol.  It had been so long since I'd written fanfic so I just needed to be sure.

     When I outlined everything I estimated the chapter length to be around 6-7k words... And I was surprised that it was double that at about 12k.  Which was wild because on my outline each opening chapter for Part 1, 2 and 3 were supposed to be shorter and more like preludes to everything else.  Well, I guess they ARE shorter chapters but STILL definitely longer than any chapter I used to write for my multichaptered stories.   At the time I thought "Ok obviously my writing has changed but surely I wont go much longer than 12k for future chapters...."  Hurr hurr.

     Personally, I was pretty proud of myself for spending so much time on it and rewriting it over and over and all that.  In the past, TBH whatever was my first draft was pretty much also my last draft haha.  I cranked out a chapter in one sitting usually and edited it mayyyybeee lol.  I just wanted to get it posted so I could move on and get to that next point in the story.   But I suppose now that I'm older and a bit more self aware, I realize a lot of my own anxieties manifest a lot in my writing though and I can recognize it in my old works like the OG Villain where I JUST WANNA GET TO WHAT I WANT TO WRITE RIGHT NOW OK??  I forced myself to slow the hell down this time, take it one scene at a time, and when things felt off I took breaks, slept on it for a few days and came back with new approaches or ideas.   And so far that's how I continue to work on it.

   Also, CHVRCHES.  I listened to a ton of that band while working on this chapter especially.

[oh-theatre]

Sycamore High: Tear The Union Apart (Chapter 36)

A/N: Sorry this chapter is shorter!! But there wasn't a lot I could do for right now! Also, there will be some jumping back occasionally

summary: The professors discover something...

words: 1368

warnings: Swearing, negative thoughts, kissing

Ao3 Link

February 14th

(Ok so this is one hundred percent not accurate about adoption and all that but…this is not how it works but for the sake of my story ahaha sorry I'm really sorry)

“Good morning” Chad greets strolling into the kitchen, Henry smiles at him handing him a cup of coffee. He leans over the counter placing a soft kiss on his lips. “Happy Valentines day love” Henry smiles nodding, he yawns covering it up with his hand.

“Wheres...wheres Ted?” He inquires joining Chad on the other side of the counter. He wraps his arms around his husband from behind, leaning his head on Chad's shoulder. Chad sets his coffee down, looking through the mail.

“He and Tommy are out doing something” He informs, Henry nuzzles. It's these nice moments he carries with him throughout the day. Chad picks up a hefty letter, reading the address “Oh! Its Teds adoption papers! His official ones!” Chad squeals, Henry chuckles nodding. Chad opens the letter reading it thoroughly, he mumbles a few words his face falls. “What?”

“What's wrong dearest?” Henry asks, he wraps his hands further around Chad swats them away. Henry pouts but his husband turns to face him. His face his riddled with confusion. Henry feels his stomach drop below his feet. “What is it Chad?”

“The adoption papers…” His bottom lip begins to tremble, he holds it up reading “Ted Hidgens formerly known as Ted Porker is now the legal child of one Henry Hidgens” Chad reads, he purses his lips looking up. Henry waits for him to continue, and Chad Hidgens. “Teds not my son…” Chad trails off, Henry shakes his head taking the paper. He reads over it but no mistake, no misinterpretation, Chad is not the father.

“This has to be a mistake” Henry swears, Chad nods doubtfully. “Why don't we call them?” He hands Chad the papers and fishes for his phone. “Here” He hands it to him, Chad reads the number and calls. He goes through everything listening intently, he holds up a finger-walking out of the room, presumingly for some information. Henry cleans up their cups, he’s furious. They've had small mistakes happen like this before, but he never got a clear answer why. Chad returned holding the phone in his hand, his face reddening, his eyes wide. “Love?”

“We aren't married,” He says, confused and hurt.

~~~

Present Day

“Morning” Ted announces walking up to his locker, the group waves at him save for Tommy who has his head buried in a study book. Ted glances his way but continues towards his locker, opening it to put some items in. He sits in his chair placed next to Paul and Tommy. He leans over nudging Tommy, he looks up adjusting his glasses.

“Yes?” He asks. Ted smirks at him, flashing his teeth. “Ted, I'm really busy do you have something to say?” He irritates. Ted recoils.

“Nevermind, jeezus” He mutters “Just wanted to say good morning” He shuffles in his bag for his own work. Tommy rolls his eyes.

“Yeah hi, morning” He rushes returning to his work. He tries but slams his book shut, stuffing it in his bag. He stands folding up his chair, putting it back neatly before leaving. Ted watches, his face falling. Bill notices the encounter and leans over.

“Are you alright?” He asks, Ted nods unconvincingly. Bill had known him for enough time to tell when even the slightest thing was wrong. He opens his bag handing Ted a pop tart he wasn't going to eat, it was a nice gesture from his father but…

“Thanks, dork,” He says taking it gladly. Bill smiles, ah food, the way to Ted's heart. Not that Bill didn't already have a special place in Ted's heart, forever and always. “Whatcha up to?”

“Studying for finals” he responds showing Ted his booklet, Ted nods showing him his laptop opening to his own study guide. They continue working, Jackie joins the group kissing Charlotte on the forehead as she arrives. Ted offers her Tommys seat, she takes it gladly making sure to flip off Paul, who returns the favor.

“Why were you so late Desai?” Paul asks accusatory, Jackie bounces in her chair.

“Wouldn't you like to know weather boy” She responds fist-bumping Ted in the process. Charlotte sighs wondering how she ended up dating this moron. “My snake was sick so we had to take care of him. Paul's eyes widen as he leans forward, Bill shuts his book.

“Snake?!” They exclaim in unison, both equally interested. Jackie chuckles, she pulls out her phone showing them a picture.

“His name is Token, he's a corn snake” She informs, Charlotte awes a little scared. Bill buzzes in his chair, Ted smiles. He loves snakes, he loves them and Ted can see it in his eyes. “You good there Dorris?” Jackie asks eyeing him, he shakes his head frantically.

“I wanna meet him!” He exclaims, the group has never seen him so excited. Jackie laughs and nods, Charlotte begins packing her things. Emma follows her example. “Where are you guys off to?” Bill asks, Ted begins packing up his own things.

“We have a free first period so we are going to go study over at Beanies” Emma explains, Ted nods agreeing. Paul takes Emma's hand, she leans down kissing him. “Bye Matthews” She smirks, he smiles back. Jackie nudges Charlotte's foot softly, she smiles a goodbye. Ted blows a kiss to Bill, who catches it mockingly. The group chuckles as the three of them disappeared leaving Jackie, Paul and Bill, alone.

“Hey fucker” Paul motions to Jackie, Bill shuts his eyes.

“Not even a second” He mumbles scribbling down some notes in his book. The bell rings signaling the start of class.

~~~

“That wouldn't make sense, because ‘E’ equals ‘MC’ squared,” Ted says, Emma nods writing it down. Charlotte yawns exhausted, she takes another sip of her coffee. “Oh my god, I just wanna play Minecraft” He groans, leaning back in his chair. Emma snaps in agreement. He pulls out his computer, much to Emma's laughter. Charlotte eyes him “I'm not gonna play, I just wanted to look something up… Leave me alone” He pouts.

“I'll play with you as soon as I'm done with this one sheet,” Emma remarks, He gives her a thumbs up. Charlotte rolls her eyes at the pair, looking around tapping her pencil. She pokes Ted with the eraser, he looks up.

“Hey, where's Tommy? He usually has a free period around this time as well” She notes, He bites his lip, nodding. He shrugs turning back to his computer, she wants to keep pressing but lets it go. Ted opens up the messenger app on his computer. Emma opens her own computer, doing the same.

Ravioli give me the formuoli

Em: Hey dweeb

Paul: Ms.Perkins are you texting during class??

Em: always babe

Paul: what's up buttercup

Em:  just wanted to check-in, we didn't talk much this morning

Paul: Do you care about me perkins?

Em: Forever and always Matthews

Paul: That's cute and cheesy don't do it again

Em: Noted, so how are you?

Paul: I don't know...I don't wanna tell anyone though

Em: You told me :)

Paul: Because you cornered me and sai “Hey fucker, you are sad, what's up”

Em: …

Em: I did not give you a chance did I?

Paul: No you didn't, but tbh? Right now, I'm fine. I'll tell people when I'm ready

Em: Ok, well I love you <3

Paul: Weirdo

Paul: but I love you too

Emma giggled shoving her phone away per Charlotte's request. She hoped Paul was ok, after everything he had told her? She could only hope and check-in. Ted, on the other hand, did not have as much luck.

Gumdrop

Dearest: Hey, Charlotte wanted to know where you were

Gumdrop: Busy can't talk

And that was that. He shut off his computer, returning back to his physical work. The last text itching the back of his mind. What was happening? The prolongment of something dead? Did he miss something, was it his fault? The words scraping his heart for some unknown reason.

Busy

Cant talk

[scarletraven1001]

Retribution

[Book 1] [Chapter 1]

Summary: Raised in the shadows, Vegeta’s sole purpose in life was to avenge the destruction of his family. The key to his victory laid in the hands of Bulma, the daughter of the enemy, and not even the strange connection he feels with her will keep him from raining his furious retribution upon all who had dared cross his bloodline.

A Vegebul Mafia AU Fic, for the @vegebulocracy Big Bang Challenge, 2018

Story Rating: E

Chapter Warnings: Violence, Swearing

Also on Ao3

All Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8

8-8-8-8-8

Notes: Hello! Welcome to my contribution to the Vegebulocracy (VBO) Big Bang! This has been super fun (though at times rather difficult) to write and I am so excited to share this with all of you today! This story is complete, and I will be posting all chapters until the 24th of December. I would like to thank the incredible, amazing @blacksheep1105​ for her help as a Beta for this story, as without her help, this fic would not be anywhere near the story that it is right now! Thank you, girl! And to all of you, please check out Blacksheep's stories! With that, please do let me know what you think, for this first chapter of Retribution: Book 1!

8-8-8-8-8

Chapter 1

8-8-8-8-8

The coffee was fantastic.

He was no connoisseur – far from it, in fact – but he could definitely see that the tiny coffee shop that he had been sitting at for the past hour had the potential to become a big business if it kept making coffee this good.

The aroma of it was exquisite. The taste, liquid gold on his tongue, both soothed and kept him alert at the same time.

And Vegeta Saiyan needed to be alert, for what he was about to do.

He straightened his suit, adjusting his tie and checking his coat as he watched his target stroll leisurely up the street.

She was without a care in the world, her blue hair in a loose ponytail that flowed whimsically down her back. Her brilliant blue eyes shone like the most precious of sapphires, and her full pink lips beckoned like the petals of the rarest blossoms.

Her pale skin, vibrant even in the dying light of the twilight sun, was a clear indication of her wealthy upbringing.

Her family’s wealth… that should have been his.

That carefree manner, and the easy life that had given her all the things her heart had desired… those should have been his.

Resentment bubbled up from the deepest pits of his hardened heart, and he straightened as he watched her take her clueless steps into the comfortable apartment building where she resided.

He seethed, his hands clutching convulsively around his coffee mug, teeth grinding in his rage and excitement.

She was probably not even aware of the fact that she had been part of the conspiracy that had brought about the destruction of his family, the horrendous murders that had taken away everything that he had known and loved.

Oh, but she will know.

If all went well, before the night gives way to the next dawn, he will begin his revenge.

8-8-8-8-8

Bulma sighed as she dropped her purse onto a small table at her apartment’s entryway, cursing slightly as the contents spilled out from its broken zipper.

She really ought to replace that bag.

But she didn’t have the will to, as it was one of the little knick knacks left behind by her mother, Panchy, after she passed away a few years ago.

It had already been rather well-used before Bulma had received it, as Panchy had been very fond of it as well. Bulma had hinted at liking the design, and her mother had promptly gifted it to her the next day.

The yellow leather bag was starting to grow too worn for use, and if Bulma were being honest to herself, the bag really was broken already.

Yet, broken or not, the one thing that she can never let go of, was the small, handwritten note that her mother had scribbled onto the main pocket inside.

Live well and stay beautiful, my baby girl.

Bulma had already lost so many people from her life, that she really didn’t want to start losing their mementos, as well.

She had left her home town of West City behind, as it had given her too many painful memories. To cope with her losses, she had moved to East City, where she began to work as a free contractor for rebuilding houses and infrastructure damaged by a recent earthquake that destroyed most of the downtown city proper. She received only food and transportation allowances, and was more than happy to keep it that way.

It wasn’t that she was generous… Working for next to nothing was her way of atoning for the sins that she knew that her family had been involved in for several generations.

She possessed a brilliant mind, and it did not take much for her to realize that her mother’s family, and now her own father, were involved in the workings of a crime syndicate.

Her father, Dr. Trunks Briefs, was a scientist who had occasionally dabbled in politics, under the stern and watchful influence of the West City Syndicate.

This was another reason why she had left West: To escape the syndicate. It was a convoluted group of corrupt officials and crime lords who had been in and out of the Briefs household since before the moment she had drawn her first breath.

Releasing a wide yawn, Bulma headed for her bedroom, intent on changing out of the denim jeans and simple white shirt that she had worn to work.

She was barely out of the living room when she heard her mobile phone ringing, and it took less than a moment for the ringtone to register in her mind and fire adrenaline through her veins.

It was a unique ringer tone that she had set for a private number that no one but her and her father knew about. He never used it, unless there was an absolute emergency.  

She lunged forward, tripping over her own feet in her haste, and immediately answered.

“Hello,” she greeted, breathless from the panic that now surged within her body.

“Bulma!”

He sounded stressed, ragged… he was a little breathless, from what Bulma could tell, and she immediately knew something major had come up.

“Dad? Is everything alright?”

“No, baby,” he said, and Bulma’s hand flew to her chest, trying to still her now erratic heartbeats.

“What happened? Are you ok?” she asked.

“Yes, but you won’t be!” he said urgently. “I need you to get out of your apartment, right now. I have received intel that some people are after you. You need to get out, now!”

Her panic dwindled slightly at the sheer ridiculousness of her father’s claim.

However, his words made her take a glance around the room, her eyes that had been raised in the heart of danger making a quick sweep of her surroundings and quickly noting the locked doors and reinforced windows.

“Dad, that’s impossible,” she said brightly into the receiver, even while her brows furrowed in concern. “This flat isn’t even named after me. I’m not using my real name here!”

“That doesn’t matter! Leave, now!” he yelled, his desperation bleeding into his shouted words. “Go into the woods, whatever. I am sending men to fetch you right now.”

This was not the first time that her father had been so paranoid, and Bulma was skeptical.

“Dad, really, I don’t think-”

Bulma cut herself off with a shrill little scream, when the lights in her room suddenly turned off, plunging her into pitch blackness.

“A power outage?” she thought in confusion.

“Bulma!” her father screamed.

“Dad, I’m fine!” she placated. “The lights just went out all of a sudden. Lemme grab my flashlight-”

“No!” Dr. Briefs yelled. “Don’t! If the lights went out, that means they are there, Bulma! You need to go! Walk in the shadows… draw no attention to yourself. Get out of there, now!”

This time, she believed him, and did not need to be told twice.

“I will call you when I get to safety,” she said, turning off the call.

She grabbed her bag, felt around for her keys and wallet, and she stuffed those and her phone into her pockets before she made a break for the door.

8-8-8-8-8

The phone vibrating in his hand was their signal.

The power had been cut, and it was time to make their move.

Vegeta stood in the lobby of the apartment building, watching the small bit of panic on the patrons’ faces as the lights went down.

They needn’t worry… it was not them that he was coming for.

The public addressed system pinged, and a clear voice rang out to address the residents.

“All residents, please vacate the building,” it called. “We are experiencing technical difficulties in the electrical circuitry. We are now working to restore the power. We advise you to vacate to ensure your safety. ”

The same message was repeated twice more as the small communication link in his ear beeped.

“We’re in, big brother ,” a voice said in his ear, almost cheerful-sounding in spite of the serious nature of events. “Emergency lines are down, as well.”

“Good job, Kakarot,” Vegeta said, his deeper baritone humming into the line. “Lapiz? Are you ready?”

“Of course,” a smooth, calm voice called in. “Piccolo and I are underground. Waiting for your move, Prince.”

“Don’t call me that,” he growled as he began to walk in the opposite direction of all the tenants rushing to leave the building.

A staff member was ushering people out, telling them to vacate due to a short circuit in the building, and Vegeta smirked as he recognized the guy as one of the people he had paid off to help let them into the maintenance rooms.

He smirked as he made his way to a side room, leading into the emergency maintenance stairwell. He calmly climbed the stairs, his dark eyes narrowed in concentration as he approached the correct floor.

She was still there. He could practically feel her.

A flow of people greeted him as he alighted on the fifth floor, their excited chatter annoying him, the beams from their flashlights blinding him as they flashed across his face while they moved.

Vegeta knew that Briefs would tell her not to use a flashlight. The old man was predictable, that way.

A small movement off to his left alerted him to a slight, dark silhouette trying to make its way through the darkness.

He pulled his night vision glasses out of his coat pocket even though honestly, he didn’t truly need them quite yet.

Even in the pitch-black halls, he would recognize that strangely-colored fall of hair, anywhere.

With a devilish smirk, he begins the chase.

8-8-8-8-8

Trying to navigate the halls in the dark was hell.

She took tiny, measured steps, hands feeling along the walls as she did her hardest to not trip over anything.

It had been easier to move around when she was still among the people who had their lighting implements on, but as she strode further away from the flow, she realized that she may have made a mistake.

She had thought, if people were after her, they would probably try to find her among the sea of people. Nobody would have guessed that she would try to make her way out using the smaller stairwell in the maintenance areas.  

“For a genius, I could be really dumb sometimes,” she muttered, feeling a small wave of relief wash over her as her eyes began to adjust to the darkness.

She could make out the faint outline of a door, and knew from the blueprints that she had of the building that this was the main entryway to the maintenance areas.

Slowly, she turned the knob, not making a sound.

She closed the door behind her, taking a deep breath before she leaned back against the wall beside the door.  

Bulma looked around, realizing with trepidation that something was… off.

This was the maintenance area. She had expected the maintenance men to be swarming this place, trying to fix the broken circuits so they could restore power to the building.

Why then… was it empty?

Not a sound, not a soul in sight.

Her heart beat harshly within her chest, as she began to suspect that, in her over-thinking her escape, she may have screwed herself, instead.

The soft click of the door behind her, followed by the soft sound of hushed footsteps that like her, remained unguided by light, confirmed her suspicions.

Suppressing a gasp, Bulma tried to find a place to hide, feeling around for any apparatus large enough for her to plaster herself against.

To her horror, the silhouette of the intruder started walking closer.

She took off in a panic, trying her best to run in the pitch black darkness, holding in her panting breaths as she fought to clear her mind, to think…

She was Bulma Briefs, and she refused to acknowledge that she somehow may have been outsmarted by one of her father’s thuggish rivals.

Her keys jingled softly in her pocket, but in the absolute stillness of the dark, the sound seemed as loud as sirens to her terrified ears.

As if hearing her distress, the person chasing her mocked her by stomping once, a little loudly, almost making her shriek.

Her hands groped in the darkness before her, and on impulse, she felt around her pocket, grasping at the tiny charm that held her noisy keys together.

Her lucky charm. An old, round spaceship toy that she had turned into a keychain as a memento of her dearest friend that she had lost when they were just children. For all the years after he had died, having the toy with her made her feel like he was still right there, and with her heart in her throat, she begged the heavens for him to keep her safe once again.

She hoped against hope, that he was still watching over her, right at that moment.

Her footsteps sounded too loud and heavy to her ears, and she was sure that the person chasing her could find her on the sound of her footfalls alone.

She turned a corner, and she let out a loud, desperate gasp when her hands pushed forward…

And found a solid, brick wall.

She was trapped.

The despair went through her just as she felt the thick, large hands grab hold of her shoulders, and she finally let out a scream as she tried to struggle away from her captor.

“Kyaaa!” she yelled “No! Don’t touch me!”

The person let out a snicker, a low, man’s voice that sent terrified shivers up her spine, before he effortlessly pulled her by the waist with a single arm, and with the other hand, she felt him lift a cold metal cylinder to her head.

A gun.

Her screaming subsided with a choke, her hands helplessly flying towards her chest to still the erratic beating of her heart.

“Please,” she whispered, “Don’t shoot.”

She felt him pull her closer, pressing her against an unyielding body, as a chuckle vibrated across his chest that was right against her back.

From what she could tell, he was not too tall, but was made of a thick wall of pure muscle that she, in her frailness, had no hope of getting away from.

She felt the gun leisurely caress her cheek, until it pressed up against the side of her throat, followed by the hot sensation of a gust of his breath against the back of her neck.

“Now, why would I want to go and kill you now, Ms. Briefs?”

His voice, low and throaty, terrified her…

And for some reason, brought a strange twinge of familiarity to twitch at the back of her mind.

“Who are you?” she demanded, trying and almost succeeding at keeping her voice from trembling.

“That does not matter,” he answered. “What is imperative right now, Princess, is that you cooperate with me. And we shall start by walking back the way you came, into your apartment, so we can make a little call.”

She sucked in a breath.

“And if you know what is good for you,” he hissed, “you will not make a sound.”

She pushed at him slightly, before she hissed back.

“Do not call me Princess.”

8-8-8-8-8

Ah, so she still had that fight within her, after all.

“Very well,” Vegeta answered, taking a discrete whiff of her hair as he pulled her more tightly against him.

She smelled glorious.

Even more so than he remembered.

Then again, his memories of her scent were always mixed with the smell of grass, the scent of sweat, sunshine and childish delight.

She was definitely no longer a child, now.

As quickly and gently as he could, he forced her to walk back the way they had come, his small night vision glasses helping him see perfectly in the darkness.

He had to admit, that toying with her, giving her hope that she had even a slim chance of getting away when he could clearly see her struggling to take her tiny steps, was rather enjoyable.

The whole area was still dark as they trudged down the hall leading to her room.

“What do you want from me?” she asked, her voice strong and demanding even in her compromised state. “Are you gonna rob me? Kill me? Rape me?”

He chuckled darkly at that. “Oh believe me, Ms. Briefs… If I were to decide to fuck you, it would not be rape. You would be begging for it.”

She scoffed, pulling a smirk from his lips.

“I highly doubt that, you brute.”

He could see the door. They were almost there.

“Who are you?” she asked again. “Do I know you?”

Amidst her question, he sensed an underlying note of genuine curiosity.

She knew. Or at least, a part of her did.

She had always been too smart, even for him.

“You are in no position to be demanding answers, Ms. Briefs,” he said simply.

He finally pushed his way into her apartment, and found his men waiting for them in the living room.

“Lapiz,” he called out, pulling off his night vision glasses, sticking them into his jacket pocket. “The lights.”

A small halo of light appeared from a single lamp in the middle of the room, giving off a faint illumination that was just enough to see by.

“Piccolo,” he called.

“Yes, boss,” a tall, thin man with a tall nose and a white turban round his head stepped forward, holding the ropes, just as planned.

He felt Bulma gasp against him as Piccolo came forward, quickly tying her hands together, before he knelt down to bind her legs while Vegeta held her steady.

After Piccolo was done tying her up, Vegeta ushered her down onto a chair, patting her pockets, and pulling out her phone, wallet, and keys.

It was as he was placing her things down onto a table to leave them behind that the small trinket dangling from her keys, hanging beside a tiny flash drive, caught his eye.

He paused, lifting it closer to his face, disbelieving…

The small, white toy, a miniature alien spacepod from a silly television show he had watched as a kid, cheerfully taunted him, causing him to gasp inaudibly.

He turned it over, and saw exactly what he had hoped, or perhaps dreaded, staring back at him.

A tiny “V”, carved onto the back of the toy.

A marker, carved onto the trinket with a small kitchen knife.

He glanced surreptitiously at the woman who was glaring at his men.

She had kept it.

All those years…

Vegeta cleared his throat, steeling himself.

It was not the time for sentimentality.

However, unable to help himself, he found himself surreptitiously putting the woman’s keys into his own pocket instead of leaving them behind.

Before him, Lapiz was already setting up the small netbook, loading up the video call that would connect them to the man who had helped destroy his family.

The cheerful sound made by the application was like an alarm, fully pulling him into the moment, reminding him of his long overdue revenge.

He cracked his knuckles, situating himself behind Bulma’s chair, both of them directly in front of the small computer that was currently placing a video call request to none other than Dr. Trunks Briefs.

Lapiz took his position behind the computer, his short black hair falling primly behind his ears as he aimed a gun at the woman, just as Vegeta had instructed.

Vegeta was trembling from his excitement, but he reined it back, forcing on a placid expression as the face of the man finally appeared on the screen.

“Hello?” the older man called into the screen.

“Dad!” Bulma called, on cue.

Vegeta’s smirk widened.

“Bulma? Bulma, it’s dark. Did you make it out?”

“Dad-”

“No, Dr. Briefs. She did not make it out,” Vegeta finally called out, and he watched in glee as the scientist’s eyes widened, first in fear, and then, in horrified recognition.

“You…?” he choked out. “The Dark Prince…”

He almost sneered at the tile.

Oh, how he hated it.

At the moment though, he relished in the terrified reverence that he heard in Briefs’ voice as he stared in petrified horror at him through the computer screen.

“Yes, me. Surprised, doctor?” he taunted, placing a hand on Bulma’s shoulder for show.

“My daughter! Please, don’t hurt my daughter-”

“Does she look to be in pain, doctor?” he asked. “She will remain unscathed, if you tell me exactly what I need to know.”

8-8-8-8-8

Bulma blanched as she saw her father’s eyes widen on the screen.

He had been looking at her, but then his eyes became riveted on her abductor, standing guard right behind her.

“I knew it,” she thought to herself. “Something about him is familiar. My father knows him…”

The man behind her began talking again, and Bulma strained her mind, trying in vain to think of where, where and when, she had heard that voice before.

It was not entirely familiar… like an echo of a long-forgotten memory that had been distorted by time, but she had known from the start, from the very first time that he had spoken to her, that she knew that voice…

“I will ask you, only once, Briefs,” he snarled. “Where is the third?”

Her father looked shell-shocked. “The third… you have found the second?”

“As I have said to your daughter… you are in no position to be demanding answers from me,” the man bit out. “Answer my question, Briefs.”

Bulma watched her father through the camera…

He was tight-lipped, his eyes wide in terror and agony… and she realized with a sinking feeling that she knew that look.

It was the face he made whenever he had to keep a terrible secret from her and her mother… his face whenever he knew that the syndicate’s business was far more important than anything he had on his plate.

At once, she came to the startling realization that whatever it was that her kidnapper was asking about, her father knew exactly what the answer was.

And yet, even with her sitting there in mortal danger, he would not talk.

She was absolutely sure.

The horrifying thought raged inside her head, and she understood that whatever it was, was bigger, more important, than her.

She began to despair as she watched the emotions run amok on her father’s face.

She closed her eyes as she heard her father speak the words that would spell her doom.

“I am sorry, young man. I do not know,” he answered, and she heard his plea through his softly-whispered words.

I am sorry, Bulma.

She shook her head in disbelief.

Her father had just sold her out… to keep a secret for the syndicate.

“Tch,” the man behind her spat. “Yes you do, Briefs. I am rather disappointed that you would allow your own daughter to die for a secret that we can unfold soon, anyway. I had just been hoping that you could make the search easier.”

Bulma felt his hold on her shoulders tighten, and she peeked, seeing the thin, severe-looking man behind the netbook still pointing his gun at her in warning.

“I know you do not think much of your existence, Briefs,” the man said, “but let me see how well you hold out when I have your daughter with me.”

With that, he gave her shoulder a sharp, painful squeeze.

“Aah!” she cried out, trying to hold back tears at the unwelcome sensation.

“Bulma!” Dr. Briefs cried.

“You had your chance, Briefs!” he said again. “And if you value your daughter’s life, even a little… make sure that the details of this little chat never reaches Frieza.”

“What do you plan to do with Bulma?” Dr. Briefs asked.

The man simply walked away from her, and with a menacing smirk, answered:

“We will be in touch.”

He then reached down, and disconnected the call.

He turned to the other two, who simply nodded and began packing up their computer and lights, as he approached her again, and before the lights went out, she finally caught a decent glimpse of the man who had been holding her captive.

Bulma’s breath caught in her throat as the sense of recognition began to relentless nag at her mind.

Her eyes took in the broad shoulders that made up for a rather compact stature, his hair a dark, controlled flame above his head. His large hands lifted to conceal his eyes behind what seemed like a set of high-tech night vision lenses.

She shook in denial. It couldn’t possibly be…

His eyes… she needed to see his eyes.

She didn’t even fight him when he untied her legs, then forcefully pulled her up with him, a gun to her side as he made her walk briskly beside him and his men.

It seemed like a small eternity, but soon, she felt the breeze of the cold autumn night on her cheeks, and she had barely realized that she was out of the building before she felt herself being pushed into a sleek, black car.

The man followed immediately behind her.

“Drive,” he growled, and a blond seated at the driver’s seat nodded, speeding them off into the night.

Bulma looked around, noting another dark car following closely behind them, and she took a deep breath, gathering her will before she turned to face her abductor.

Now, in the sparse lights of the few streetlamps littering what looked to be a back street, she gazed at his face, turned sharply towards her while his gun remained trained on her.

“Please,” she tried to reason with him again. “Why are you doing this? My father already told you that he doesn’t know anything.”

He smirked, an eerily familiar expression that made her chest constrict.

She needed to see his eyes!

“Come now, woman. Did you honestly believe that he was being truthful?” he asked, and Bulma viciously pushed her tears back, as desperation filled her.

She tried to discreetly move her hands, hoping to loosen the binds.

“I would not attempt to escape if I were you, Bulma.”

She stilled.

It can’t be…

She looked at him again, her heart hammering in her chest…

The way he said her name… it was unmistakable.

A slightly teasing cadence, the “u” sound deeper and a little longer than necessary.

There was only one person who had ever spoken her name that way…

“My name… why did you say my name that way?” she whispered.

He pointedly looked away.

Bulma felt her lower lip tremble. “Please… may I… will you let me see your eyes?”

He glanced at her, and with a hesitant sigh, lifted his free hand, and pulled off his dark glasses.

Her very breath stopped, and she stared.

Those eyes… narrowed, slanted, with thick brows… the darkest eyes she had ever seen.

The sight of those eyes transported her mind back to her youth, to happier times, before all the complications began, and she finally felt the tears fall unbidden down her cheeks.

She would know those eyes anywhere.

Bulma choked, her emotions too much, running too high…

It should not have been possible. But she couldn’t possibly be wrong…

“Ve… Vegeta?”

His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, and that miniscule affirmation was all that it took to make her tears fall harder.

“Oh God… you’re alive?”

8-8-8-8-8

To be continued…

[beatricethecat2]

if/then (2.0) - 17

I'll be honest; I tried to skip past this chapter. To push Myka so far forward these scenes they'd only be seen in flashback snippets. Maybe that'd be possible if I was a better writer (and had unlimited time), but this is the level I'm at. Fear was also involved, as I knew writing multiple people for these scenes, and writing the setting itself, wouldn't be easy. Time shuffling occurs throughout, to push Myka a little further forward. I hope (cross fingers) it all works for you.Typos abound, I will fix later.

Previously: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15, part 16

///////////////////////////////

Beyond Myka’s window, the city lights shimmer until murky clouds swallow them whole. Her view is muted, myopic, her thoughts silenced by pillowy gray; to stay sheltered here would be heavenly-sent. But all too soon her safe haven flickers and fades. Only wisps remain, detached and weightless.

The revealed stratosphere glows a vibrant, moonlit cobalt-blue, but its beauty is lost on her mood. Time for further distractions, such as seat pocket magazines, touting faraway lands the airline services. She flips through thin pages and lands on an article chronicling a chef in Manchester. Christina would like this, she'll tell her when she sees her, but she has no idea when that might be.

The next article is a fluff piece, “Artificial Intelligence: Improving Future Flights,” and now Claudia’s in her head, grouching over inaccuracies. One more flip and she groans, there’s an ad for an antique auction. She closes the magazine, then looks back at the sky.

The clouds now read like a fresh layer of snow, at least that’s how Christina had described them months ago. And on Christina's flight earlier, she may have again, the one Myka was meant to be on but wasn't. She was left behind navigating an exit interview at the police station, stewing in a slew of ifs and thens. The only immovable fact: maintain the lie that set her free, a task more difficult in reality than in theory.

She tucks the magazine back into her seat pocket, and lets yesterday morning unfold.

“Claudia?” Myka said, surprised by the red bob in the waiting room.

“You!" Claudia snapped, jumping up from her seat. “You did this!”

“Did what? Why are you here? Where's…Hele..n…a.” Christina was staring at her from behind Claudia’s thigh, arms wrapped tightly around her leg. “It’s going to be ok,” Myka said, more gruffly than she meant it. She reached toward her, but Christina ducked away.

“Ms. Bering, follow me,” an officer said and grasped Myka gently by the arm.

“Saved by the narc,” Claudia cracked, then settled Christina back into her seat.

A lump formed in her throat as she held Christina’s gaze, being rejected by this little girl hurt more than she could handle. But it was all part of the plan, and Christina couldn’t be read in. She wasn’t even sure if Claudia was at all.

“Ms. Bering, thank you for joining us,” a woman cop said, more as a formally than an actual thanks. She was thin with deep-set eyes, and wide, hollowed cheeks. Her hair hung limply, just barely touching her shoulders as if gravity were unfairly weighing it down.

"I’m DI Stuart, and this is DI Khan,” DI Stuart said, nodding to the man to her right. He smiled in greeting, and his eyes were kind. He looked more official than DI Stuart, dressed in a dark blazer and burgundy shirt, his red tie shone brightly through the light was dim.

“Why's Claudia here?” Myka asked as she was seated across from them.

DI Stuart turned toward the escorting officer. “You brought her through the waiting room?”

“Yes, mam. Was that not ok?”

“Not exactly.” DI Stuart's lips downturned, deepening her frown lines. “Close the door on your way out.”

“Sorry boss,” The officer said and shuffled out.

“Who’s Claudia?” DI Khan asked, raising a thick brow.

“The friend, minding the child. The one we’d asked to step out, but who wouldn't,” DI Stuart answered.

“Oh, yes. Beautiful child. Looks just like her mother,” DI Khan said, smiling again.

“She does,” Myka said, factually, suspicious of his chipper tone.

“Let's start with her mother,” DI Stuart said. "How long have you known Helena Wells?”

“Since April.” Or March maybe? It seemed like an eternity ago.

“Where did you meet?”

“At the hotel where she worked.”

“You were a patron."

“Not willingly. My building burned down and I needed somewhere to stay."

“This was in New York?”

“Yes. Gas explosion. It was a kind of a big deal.” Myka looked down at the table and ran her thumb over its edge.

“Harrowing circumstances indeed. We’re sorry for your loss,” DI Khan said.

“Thank you,” Myka said.

DI Stuart scribbled notes on a fresh page. "I understand you’re now a couple, you and Ms. Wells. When did that come about?”

“Maybe...five months ago?” Myka said counting backward in her head.

“You seem unsure?”

“It wasn’t continuous. There were...hiccups along the way.”

DI Stuart laid down her pen and gave Myka her full attention. “Were you aware of her 'situation' from the beginning?”

“Situation?”

“With the law.”

“No."

“But you pursued her once you were aware.”

“I did. But she pushed me away. Said she didn’t want to drag me into everything.”

“Yet here you are, dragged into everything.”

“Quite a risk, aligning yourself with a felon, especially in your profession,” DI Khan added.

Myka bit her lip and hung her head, but under the table, her hands balled into fists. Go ahead, judge us, narcs. You have no idea what we've been through, or the secrets Helena had to hide, must still be hiding to keep her name clear.

She looked at DI Khan then DI Stuart; should she should try to see this from their angle? DI Khan’s right, it wasn’t very smart to have "aligned” herself with Helena. And if Helena thought she was such a bad influence, why did she come back at all? The pretense was love, but what if that wasn’t the real reason? What if Helena had learned of Mrs. Frederic’s plan earlier and was protecting her back in New York? It wasn’t that far-fetched, and it’d explain a lot—

“Ms. Bering, are you all right?” DI Khan said.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“We lost you for a moment. Where did you go?”

“I was thinking…” Myka rubbed at her eyes. How should she play this? “Five months isn't a long time. But I loved her. I really did.” Loved her, as in past tense; how did that slip out of her mouth? She rubbed her fingers into her temple, recalling Helena's words from yesterday.

“She’s cheating on me, sleeping with someone else. I-I don’t have proof, but…” She saw it then, this is where Helena was pushing her all along. Helena had said to "act pained, dumbfounded, betrayed." Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but tears of relief, not heartache. “I haven’t said that out loud to anyone except Helena.”

There was a knock on the door, and DI Stuart rose to tend to it.

“When you spoke with Helena, how did she respond?” DI Khan asked.

Myka blotted her eyes with the cuff of her sleeve. “She deflected. We fought.”

“Do you fight often?”

“Lately, yeah. But this was...I’ve never stormed out before. I said things I—"

“Sorry, but we’re being pulled away.” DI Stuart stood anxiously by the table. "We can send in an officer if you like until we return.”

“I’m ok,” Myka said, wiping her nose.

DI Stuart looked at DI Khan and nodded toward the door. “One minute,” DI Khan said, then turned to Myka. “Can I offer you a tea, a coffee? Some tissues, perhaps?”

“I, um, coffee, sure.” Myka smiled shakily, but the smile soon faltered. She dabbed at her eyes, then looked toward the door just as her escorting officer walked by. She gasped as a tall, familiar blonde woman trailed behind.

“Milk and sugar?” DI Khan asked, gathering his papers.

“J-Just milk,” Myka answered, gaze swinging back to DI Khan. Her heart thumped out of her chest; that spectacle must have been pre-planned. She was sure DI Stuart noted her reaction.

“Chicken or fish, miss?” The question comes out of nowhere.

Myka stares at the flight attendant, her thoughts shifting into the present. "Um, chicken?”

The attendant slides open a drawer and lifts out a tray. “Something to drink?”

“Water’s fine. No ice.”

She hands Myka the tray then fills a cup.

“What time is it?” Myka asks.

“Half-past nine.”

“Could I get a wine, too? White.”

“Of course.” The attendant hands her the water and slides a lower drawer open. She plucks out a miniature bottle and slips a cup from the stack.

“Thank you,” Myka says, accepting the bottle, cup, and napkin combo. She lifts the lid off of her dinner and punctures the cutlery wrapper. Is she hungry? Not really, but in the interview room, she definitely was.

“Sorry for the wait. And sorry if you’re vegetarian,” DI Khan said, reappearing hours later with a triangle box in hand.

Myka slid the box closer and peered through its transparent window. The contents didn’t look appetizing, but her stomach grumbled anyway. She opened the lid and slid a triangle out, then nibbled on a corner.

“You recently had an art show, in Warsaw,” DI Stuart started, eyes skimming over her notes. “How did that come about?”

“Very last minute. Filling in for someone who dropped out.”

“The gallery contacted you?"

“No, a collector put us in touch.”

“A collector from your work?”

“No, through my friend Amanda. She introduced me at a dinner we were at.”

“Right place, right time?” DI Stuart said, flashing a half smile, one that seemed genuine, but Myka couldn't take it at face value. “A solo show in Europe. You must be pleased with that.”

“I am.” Myka took a larger bite of the sandwich then slipped it back into the box.

“Was the work shipped from New York or was it already in Europe?”

“New York.”

“Shipped in boxes?”

“No, crates.”

“Custom crates, built specifically for you?”

“Yes."

DI Stuart wrote something down. “Did you have any trouble with Customs?”

“I did. Here in London.”

“Did the paperwork yourself?”

“No. The shipping department did, where I work.”

“Hm.” DI Stuart flipped through her notes and studied on one, in particular, scanning the page more than once.

“Why were they held up?” DI Khan asked as Myka craned toward the paper.

Myka sat back. “The weight and size were off. Not by much, but, I guess, enough.”

“That is what it says here,” DI Stuart offered, tapping the page she was reading. “It doesn't say how that problem was resolved. Do you know?”

“No.”

“You’ve no idea?"

“I don't.”

“Well, someone must have intervened."

“I think it was Mrs. Frederic.”

“Mrs. Frederic?”

“She owns a gallery here in London. I work for her sometimes."

“So you asked Mrs. Frederic for help, not your employer…” DI Stuart thumbed through papers and skimmed a page. “Vanessa Calder, who I see is associated with Mrs. Frederic."

“Vanessa tried but had no luck. So did the gallery in Poland.”

“So Mrs. Frederic was able to release your crates, but her business partner was not?”

“As far as I know.”

“Did Ms. Calder contact, or suggest you contacting Mrs. Frederic?"

“If Vanessa spoke to Mrs. Frederic, she didn’t mention it.”

“You contacted her on your own volition.”

“Helena suggested it.”

“Helena suggested it,” DI Stuart repeated, shuffling through papers again as if looking for proof of Myka’s claim. “Did someone contact you when your crates were released?”

“No. I kept checking with the shipping company.”

“So nothing from Mrs. Frederic’s end.”

“No, nothing.” Myka knew where this was going and she didn’t want it to go much farther. "I’m sorry, but what do my crates have to do with anything?"

DI Stuart looked over at DI Khan. “Who did you say packed them?” DI Khan asked.

“I didn't.”

“Didn’t pack them?”

“Say who packed them.”

“Who did?”

“I did."

“At work?”

“No. My studio. One of Vanessa’s art handlers gave me instructions.” Myka dug into her pocket and pulled out her phone. “Here.” She tapped the screen twice, then swiped, and slid the device towards him.

“Get those from her,” DI Stuart said, rising and gathering her papers. “We’ll be back shortly—"

“Miss, may I take your tray?”

Myka looks at her dinner, she's barely touched it but hands it over anyway. “Could I get another wine?”

“Drinks cart is following.”

“Thanks.” Myka takes a tiny sip from her glass.

“I apologize for the wait,” DI Stuart said, bursting back into the room.

Myka jerked up from the table, she’d nodded off while they were gone. She slept little, if at all, at the hotel last night. Too much was weighing on her mind.

“We’re trying to sort this out quickly, but we need a slightly unusual favor.”

Myka rubbed at her eyes and smoothed down her hair. Her stomach grumbled again, but the sandwich was gone. “What is it?”

“A group interview.”

“With other cops?”

“Other interviewees,” DI Khan said.

“Like Helena?”

“Yes, like Helena,” DI Stuart answered.

Myka shook her head. “I don’t want to see her.”

“Wouldn’t you rather have a voice in this than leave it up to others?” DI Khan said.

“I don’t know what ‘this’ is. Do you?” Myka grumbled. DI Khan’s calm, low tones were grating on her nerves. He was beginning to sound like a parent minding a child.

“Either way, we'll need you to come back in the morning,” DI Stuart said.

“But my flight leaves at noon!”

“I’m afraid you’ll need to push that until evening,” DI Khan said, then looked at DI Stuart. “That should suffice, shouldn’t it?”

“We’ll do our best.” DI Stuart said, somewhat unconvincingly. She eyed Myka like she was a piece of a puzzle that hadn’t yet found its fit. Myka found it disconcerting.

Myka held DI Stuart's gaze; how much did they know that she didn’t? If they'd had the evidence they needed, they wouldn’t have orchestrated this at all. Maybe bowing out now was the right move, to let Helena do the talking.

“I’m gonna go,” Myka said, rising. “I pretty sure I can leave unless I'm being charged with something. It's the same here as in the U.S."

“You can leave, yes, if you like, but if you do, it's likely you’ll have to fly back to give evidence—”

“Dessert?”

Myka glances at the box in front of her eyes and shakes her head. “I was hoping for more wine,” she says, fingering her empty glass. “I’m not usually a lush, but this trip’s been a doozy.”

The attendant smiles and slides open a drawer. He hands her two bottles. “The extra's on me,” he whispers with a wink, then moves on to the next row.

“Have you pushed your flight forward?” DI Khan asked, reappearing minutes later.

“I did,” Myka said, with a frown. They strong-armed her into it; was that even legal? It didn’t matter, it was too late to change things now.

“Excellent. Come with us.”

The escorting officer from earlier walked toward her, but Myka didn't move.

“You can’t take me in there blind. I thought there’d be a little prep beforehand.”

“That’s true. You should be cautioned,” DI Stuart said, then launched into a well-practiced phrase. “You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Understand, you are not under arrest or obliged to remain, and may obtain legal advice at any time.“

“That’s not helpful."

"You’ve nothing to fear if you've nothing to hide.” DI Khan said.

Myka glared at him, so over his schtick.

“We’ve not charged anyone yet. We're still gathering information,” DI Stuart added.

“That why's Bonnie’s here, right?” No more tiptoeing around.

“Ms. Belski?”

“Yeah, Ms. Belski. I saw her walk past,” Myka snipped. So Bonnie was actually Bonnie today, and not Morgana or whoever, but who was Bonnie in relation to her? If only she had more information.

“Hold that thought, and please come with us,” DI Stuart said, but Myka still didn’t budge.

Should she really do this? The idea was kind of insane. If she couldn’t keep her cool, she’d blow the whole thing. She was tired and hungry and testy as hell, but dropping out now might raise suspicions. If she was truly innocent, what did she have to lose? No matter how irritating, DI Khan’s line rang true.

She gripped the table and leveraged herself up, teetering slightly from being sedentary for so long. She rolled her shoulders back and circled her neck, then followed the officers out the door.

They paused near a conference room, where Helena and Bonnie were seated. Helena's back was to the door, and Bonnie faced it, whispering to a woman to her left. She was Bonnie’s lawyer, from the look of her, meaning things had escalated quickly. Though it's possible Bonnie never went anywhere without one.

“Do I need one of those?” Myka asked, pointing her eyes at Bonnie’s companion.

“We can request one if you like. Ms. Wells’s is on their way, but she said we could start without them,” DI Khan said. "If at any time you feel you need counsel, we’ll stop the proceedings immediately.”

Myka stared at the back of Helena’s head. Could she stay in character with her so close? If she didn’t, the entire plan might fail. It didn’t sit right, her giving evidence to convict Helena willingly. She felt nauseous, but she pushed the feeling down.

“She shouldn’t be here!” Helena barked, as Myka was lead in. Then, “You shouldn’t be here,” softer, to Myka. “They’ve no reason to drag you into this.”

Helena’s eyes asked for forgiveness and Myka wanted to give it; to grab her arm and run out of the room. But Bonnie cleared her throat, and she turned toward the sound. Bonnie's smarmy smirk triggered her nausea again.

“Please sit,” DI Stuart said, gesturing toward the middle of the table. “Are introductions even necessary? I believe everyone’s familiar with everyone else.”

Myka glanced at Helena, and then at Bonnie, both poised like caged animals, ready to pounce.

“Alright, then, let’s begin. All of you were involved in a high-stakes private sale. Ms. Wells brokered the sale while Ms. Belski represented the seller. Ms. Bering placed the winning bid on Mrs. Frederic’s behalf. Does everyone agree with that assessment.”

“We’ve been through before,” Helena groaned, leaning back in her chair, stretching an arm across the one next to her. “Myka knows nothing. Irene should be here, fessing up.”

“You see, we’ve spoken to Mrs. Frederic, and your descriptions don’t match. And neither of yours match Ms. Belski’s.”

"They’re both liars,” Helena sneered, teeth bared at Bonnie. Bonnie arched a brow, but her eyes twinkled, amused by Helena’s display.

“That’s to be determined. We’re here to hear Ms. Bering's version of the story."

“M-My version?” Myka gulped.

“As a recent hire, wasn’t it odd to be asked to front a high stakes sale?” DI Khan asked.

“Mrs. Frederic said ‘new blood’ would work in her favor."

“So Helena had nothing to do with it.“

“I most certainly did not!”

“Ms. Wells, let Ms. Bering speak,” DI Stuart scolded.

Helena grimaced and slumped back into her chair.

“To win the bid, you made an offer beyond monetary compensation, correct?” DI Khan continued.

“Yes.”

“Could you elaborate on the process?"

“Is this about the number—”

“Myka...” Helena warned.

“Go on,” DI Stuart said.

“The, um, extra item in Mrs. Frederic's bid,” Myka finished. Should she not have said that so soon?

“Extra item...” DI Khan shuffled through papers then flashed one at DI Stuart, who nodded. “The ‘lost’ Faberge egg?”

Myka looked at Helena, and Helena’s brow lifted, her mouth pinching as if saying, “keep quiet.”

“No, the other one,” Myka said. Helena grunted and then looked away. Was that the wrong answer?

DI Khan scanned the document. “I see no record of a second item.”

“L3057249,” Myka rattled off.

“Could you repeat that?” DI Khan scratched down the number.

“Ell…three…zero…five—"

“Oh, you know very well what it is,” Helena groused.

“Let Ms. Bering speak,” DI Stuart scolded again.

Helena threw up a hand and then ran it roughly through her hair.

“What was the actual item?” DI Khan continued.

“I don’t know.” Myka looked at Bonnie. “But she does."

“Me? I haven’t a clue.”

Myka furrowed her brow and looked back at Helena. “You said she did.”

Helena folded her arms over her chest and glowered at Bonnie.

“Do you have a record of Mrs. Frederic offering the item? An email or text?” DI Khan asked.

Myka thought back. “No. She gave me the number over the phone.”

“Did you write it down? It is quite a long number.”

“Mrs. Fredric said not to."

“You didn’t question offering such a thing blind?” DI Stuart asked.

Deja vu, Helena had asked the exact same question. “I trusted Mrs. Frederic. This was her deal, not mine. She had more experience than me. And when Helena said the egg wouldn’t cut it, I…I just really wanted to win.” Myka turned toward Bonnie. “Why did you say 'things were looking favorably' when I left for the airport?”

Bonnie huffed out a sharp laugh. “That was not about the egg.”

“What was it about, then?” DI Khan asked.

“Don’t you dare," Helena growled at Bonnie.

“Tell me,” Myka pleaded, lost in the moment.

Bonnie glanced at her lawyer, who nodded in approval. She looked at Myka and smirked again. “Were I to throw ‘little miss naiveté’ here a bone, Helena would finally leave her for me.”

“Is that true?” Myka said, whipping around to face Helena.

“That’s absurd!” Helena blurted, eyes trained on Bonnie. “Czar Belski often misconstrues my flirtations.” She flashed a knowing smile at Myka, but Myka continued to gape, doubting all of Helena’s intentions.

“You skirted well past flirtations, lover. I have proof of our ‘interactions,’ and would be delighted to enlighten the group.” Bonnie lifted a hand and examined her nails, then glanced at Helena through thick lashes.

Helena scoffed and looked away, but Myka caught a faint flush in her cheeks. She stared at Helena, her heart pounding wildly. Did Bonnie really have evidence and if so, how far did they go? The implied intimacy of it all was unbearable.

“My poor, simple dear,” Bonnie said to Myka. “It seems your precious Helena’s using us both.”

Myka sucked in a deep breath to hold back a yelp, her nostrils flaring as she blew out the air. She stared at Bonnie, incensed; not by her but by Helena’s betrayal.

“I can explain,” Helena said, hand grasping at Myka’s shoulder.

“Don't touch me!” Myka snapped and flinched away. “I thought you loved me! That we were…we were in love. We'd made plans, Helena. I looked after of your kid!”

At “kid” something clicked, like projector moving forward to the next image. Myka slumped back in her seat and closed her eyes. A sobbing Christina appeared behind them, cradled in Helena’s arms. None of this was real, it was a smokescreen, it had to be.

Helena sank back and glared at Bonnie. Bonnie smirked yet again.

“Any comment, Ms. Wells?” DI Stuart asked.

“I’ll wait for my lawyer, thank you.” Helena folded her arms over her chest and looked toward the door.

“I’m done,” Myka muttered, so low it was barely audible. She marched past Helena and straight out the door.

-TBC-

[smartcookie727]

His Eyes

Hey yall! I decided to throw in some banter and fun between my smuttier fics, and this one is far overdue. Sooo here’s a little gift fic for @bianww as a thank you for making my awesome icon :) I decided to show a different side to their relationship this time and explore some initial spark. Enjoy some fun college AU, and try not to be seduced by Gajeel in a pair of glasses.

Pairing: Gajevy

Prompt: College AU with Gajeel in glasses

Length: 1.7k

His Eyes

It was the fourth day Lucy had been sick. Though Levy was sorry to see her roommate so ill, she was damn near ready to shove half a bottle of Nyquil down the girl's throat if it would help. She knew it wouldn't. That didn't stop Levy from trying to calculate as much cold medicine she could possibly give her friend without killing her as the clock tower chimed the top of the hour, signaling the start of class. Curse Lucy's sick ass for leaving her alone in their materials class. It was the only advanced lecture she was taking this semester. Lucy had convinced her she'd be great at the work and needed a friend to fend off the cold, judging eyes of exhausted upperclassmen. Levy didn't mind taking a few extra hours and helping her best friend study, but if she could stomach skipping class she would have today. Sitting alone in that class made her feel so small and out of place. The professor droned as Levy glanced at the empty desk on her right over and over again, willing Lucy to materialize. Her concentration was at an all time low when a heavy thud interrupted the monotonous stream of definitions.

Levy had been so preoccupied with Lucy's absence that she hadn’t realized he wasn't in class either. The tall, red-eyed man she'd snuck glances at for the last month gave an apologetic look to the professor before scanning for an available seat. His gaze met Levy's and gave her a crooked smile. Each step he took made Levy's heart beat faster, and she immediately turned her attention back to the notebook when he sat down.

"Hey," the man whispered with a deep voice, "did I miss anything important?

Levy frantically shook her head ‘no’ as a blush warmed her cheeks. Of course it was just her luck that her secret crush would sit next to her the one day Lucy wasn't there. She fidgeted each time his eyes lingered on her instead of the board, losing the pace between her ears and her hand.

"What’re ya so nervous about, Shrimp? I don't bite," he said, flashing his teeth in a smile.

"I'm not nervous and I'm not a shrimp," Levy retorted.

"Ya look like a shrimp to me."

Levy puffed her cheeks in annoyance, glaring at him, daring him to insult her again, when she realized he was wearing glasses. It wasn't typical for him to wear them; she hadn't even known he'd needed lenses until now. The professor coughed loudly in annoyance, and Levy bit down on her pride, settling back in her seat to refocus on the lecture. Concentration didn't come easily when they occasionally brushed shoulders taking notes. His broad chest and muscular arms made him just a little too big to fit well in the tiny lecture hall desk.

The tips of her ears burned just being next to him. He was much more handsome up close than from glimpses across the room. She could see distinct scars on his left arm and count his multitude of piercings. Levy could even smell the woody pine from his wild, black hair, and it allured her. Everything about him allured her; she couldn't help but try and take in his details. Warring with her sense of studious responsibility, Levy got lost in his ruby eyes. She couldn't help but notice the piercing, red tone before, but this time, outlined by his glasses, she could see the confidence and wonder inside them. Light glinted off the frameless edge, and she could glimpse the beautiful gem buried beneath his rough exterior. The complexities hidden there were stunning, every plane refracted a different shade of red, begging her to look closer and find his core.  

"Why are ya staring at me, shorty?"

Levy blinked, shattering the spell that had captured her. "You just look different is all," she paused, thinking, "more studious I guess. I'm not used to you looking that way."

A momentary blush brightened his cheeks, clearly taken aback by her response. "Well, usually I wear contacts, but I kinda scratched one during my last boxing match. So glasses it is til my next pair comes in. Besides, I'm at the top of the class. Don't need glasses to see that."

"Really?" she asked, amused. The man had inconsistent attendance at best from what Levy could remember.

"Ya. This," he motioned to his scribbled figures and notes, "is the foundation of what I do." The jewel-like gleam came back to his eyes. "Everything is made up of something else. If I know what that something is and how it fits together with other things, I can figure out how to create anything." He took in a long breath, turning to stare at her. "And I'm the best. Always."

Levy returned his unspoken challenge. "Usually I'm the best in the room."

"Not this time, shorty. I'm top score according to the automatic rankings that came out this morning." His cocky smile widened. "I guess that just makes you the youngest here. Sure yer even old enough for college?" The man's eyes gave away hidden laughter with every word.

Levy's blood was about to boil. "I'm the same age as Lucy thank you very much, and I've been here for over a year. Just cause I'm cute doesn't mean I can't beat your ass at crystal structures." The space between them was shrinking quickly.

"I'd like to see you try." His words hung in the air over them, daring Levy to be bold. Every bit of fire in her soul reflected back at her in his eyes. She'd show him just what she was capable of.

A jarring cough stirred the silence in the room. "Do we have a problem on the right?"

Levy suddenly realized just how close she was to this infuriating, attractive man. The spark between them shot them back into their seats, both blushing furiously as they sank down to avoid further scrutiny.

"Feel free to go if you've got something better to do. It's your grade and your money."

An audible peep escaped Levy before she could utter through a tight jaw, "No sir, please continue the lecture."

Muffled laughter vibrated in the man's chest, and it irritated her even more. Levy’s blush nearly overtook her face when she turned away, pursing her lips into a tight bundle of pink.

"What?" the man snickered, "First time getting called out by a professor?"

Levy was near seething. Something about his red eyes stirred such intense emotion in her. "As a matter of fact it is, and I'd care to not have it happen again."

He cocked his head to the side. "Ehhh you'll get over it. I've had it happen so much I hardly hear it anymore." Levy noticed him chuckle at the memory, and the softness she had seen before crept back into his eyes. "I took a lot more offence when I was a freshman I guess."

"Sophomore. I'm a sophomore," she retorted.

"Ok, shrimpmore. I get it."

Levy tossed her head back in exasperation. His teasing clearly knew no bounds. She stewed in her chair for a minute, tapping her pencil and biting her lip. Then the man utterly surprised her. Little laughs escaped his lips as a wide smile spread across his face. Mirth gleamed in his eyes.

"Yer cuter when yer mad."

Levy was taken aback. She watched as this big, studded man next to her sat there giggling, and her anger slowly dissipated.

"You're cuter in glasses."

It was his turn to be taken aback. Onyx locks covered part of his face as he looked down, smiling thoughtfully. Levy let her hair cover her blush too; she couldn't believe she'd been so bold.

"Oh, really?" he asked, face composed once again. Then he wrote his number on a piece of paper and gave it to her with a cocky smile. "I think yer even cuter when yer reading—yer not the only one who notices things." Standing up, he shouldered his bag and added, "Name's Gajeel. Shoot me a text if you wanna hang out." Gajeel leaned in close, resting his arm on the desk and giving her a wink. "Or if ya need some tutoring. Oh, tell blondie if she misses class much more she's gonna lose her spot. I'll see ya on Thursday—unless ya just can't help but text me first." Levy scribbled out her number and gave it to him.

"Levy McGarden. In case you just can't help but text me first."

"Touché miss McGarden. I look forward to hearing from you." He took the paper and walked away with a flick of the wrist goodbye. Levy watched him leave, savoring the way his muscles pressed against his shirt and how his hair swayed on his back.

She sank from her seat to the floor and covered her face with her hands. What the hell just happened? Hot piercing guy had talked to her, even flirted with her. Well, he'd pissed her off to no end, but the banter had also felt electric. Thoughts ran through Levy’s mind a million miles a minute. She had to bite down on her lip just to keep from squealing. Footsteps and the thud of the door reminded her that the next class would be coming in soon. Levy gathered her bag quickly and ran out of the lecture hall. A buzz at her hip almost startled her out of her shoes. There was a text from Lucy.

Hey girl! Sorry I had to bail, but I'm still pretty sick. I hope it wasn't weird sitting alone. Notes + Chicken soup delivery plz <3

Levy sighed as her heart began to calm; Lucy had a sixth sense about these things.

Well…I don't really have the notes from today…but girl do I have a story! Remember hot piercing guy? He kinda flirted with me in class. I'll be home with soup & details asap :)

[kimjongdaely]

Façade [Chapter 3]

Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader

Warning: Language

Summary: You thought you wanted fame. You thought you wanted this. But a part of you still yearned for that normal life, a normal love: finding someone that you love and will love you back with all his heart. So soon enough, this became too much for you.

Prologue│Chapter 1│Chapter 2│Chapter 3│Chapter 4│Chapter 5│ Chapter 6│Chapter 7│Epilogue

“Oh wow,” Baekhyun says sarcastically. “I thought you would never call me again with all your moping.”

“Now’s not the time.” Chanyeol sighs exasperatedly. “…I need help.”

“You came to the right guy.” Baekhyun crosses his hands and sits up a bit straighter, mocking a doctor. “Tell Dr. Baekhyun what’s wrong.”

Chanyeol rolls his eyes at his best friend but starts anyways. “I think something’s wrong with me.”

“Really,” Baekhyun sneers. “Took you long enough to figure that out.”

“I’m serious.” He deadpans. “I haven’t been able to sleep well, and—I don’t know. I feel like I have depression.”

“Depression.” Baekhyun repeats. “Well, I mean, that’s not impossible. I guess the divorce has a bigger impact on you than I thought.”

“It has nothing to do with the divorce.” Chanyeol urges, but it’s quiet and unconvincing. He doesn’t even believe it himself. “…But I did have a dream about how we got married last night.”

Baekhyun purses his lips as he looks at Chanyeol dead in the eyes. He wants Chanyeol to know that he’s serious right now, and not trying to joke. “Have you ever considered that you love her?”

Chanyeol blinks. “What?”

“I’m serious.” Baekhyun says. “It’s very possible. You look and act exactly like a man who’s heartbroken.”

The thought has never even occurred to Chanyeol. Him, in love with you? It sounds absurd.

But then again, it’s not so absurd.

“I…No.” He quickly shakes his head. “Definitely not. It’s…it’s not like that.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes at his oblivious best friend. “I’m pretty sure it’s like that. Just so you know, she likes you too. But you’re too dumb to realize and now she’s gone.”

Words leave Chanyeol mind. He can’t form a coherent thought as information bounces around his skull.

He loves you.

You love him.

You’re gone.

A laugh bubbles from his lips. The hopelessness of it all. “No. It’s not like that.”

It doesn’t really matter now, whether he likes you or not, because you’re already gone. There’s no way he’s ever going to see you again.

“By the way,” Baekhyun interrupts his train of thought with a small grin. “Jongdae knows where she lives. In fact, he’s going to meet her right now.”

“Cozy.” Jongdae chirps as he takes a look around your new apartment; it’s much, much smaller than your old one, but it’s comfy and homey.

“Right?” You smile as you pour some tea for your friend. “How’s it going?”

“I should be asking you that.” He thanks you softly for the tea before staring at you pointedly. “How are you doing?”

“Good.” You say as you sit opposite to him, taking a sip from your cup. “No more busy schedules like I used to have. I can finally relax and enjoy life a little.”

“…And Chanyeol?” Jongdae’s voice drops to a whisper.

You falter. “What about him?”

“Do you…miss him?” Jongdae asks cautiously, carefully weaving his way through land mines. He doesn’t want to push your buttons.

“…A little bit.” You admit honestly. “But I mean it’s only been a month. It’s to be expected after I lived with him for four years.”

“He misses you.” Jongdae purses his lips as he looks at his tea. “A lot. He’s overworking himself and we’re all worried. I think you should go visit him or something.”

“I don’t want to see him.” You say flatly, your voice ringing out in the quiet house. Jongdae doesn’t speak for several seconds.

“Do you hate him?” Jongdae asks quietly, his eyes glancing up at yours curiously.

“No.”

“Then do you love him?”

His question catches you off guard. Your eyes widen as you stare at the male in front of you, a grin slowly growing on his face. You try to recompose yourself and answer, “He’s a good friend.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” He points out and you bite your lip. You were trying to avoid his question, but Jongdae is sharp and persistent. “It’s a simple question: do you love him? Yes or no.”

Simple question? It doesn’t seem like a simple question to you. You bite your lip and looking in his bright eyes, you know there’s no point lying or pretending. You trust him, and he’s always been a loyal friend. “Yes.”

“Then why divorce?” He asks incredulously. You let out a sarcastic laugh.

“Why divorce?” You repeat. “Because he doesn’t love me.”

“He does!” Jongdae is out his seat now, his eyes wide in attempt to make you believe him. “Chanyeol loves you, he really does. He’s going crazy without you. Just go back to him!”

You smile up at him sadly, your eyes trained on him as he slowly sinks back into his seat, his lips curled downwards in a small frown. “Maybe. But I didn’t feel loved those four years I was ‘married’ to him.” You purse your lips. “I liked him back when we were still friends. His proposal touched me. I knew it wasn’t the wisest choice to accept everything. But I did. Because I would rather Chanyeol marry me than anyone else even if there was no love.

“And now…I’m fed up. I’ve been pretending that the things he does doesn’t affect me. I’ve been pretending that him coming home late all the time is okay, being with other women like I don’t exist. It’s painful. He didn’t care. I just—” You choke. “I don’t want to go back.”

“He was a jerk,” Jongdae agrees, his tone much more gentle now. “But I know he loves you. He was stupid, but he learned after you left.”

“You’re a good friend,” you smile at Jongdae who looks forlorn. “But I would spend more time looking after Chanyeol than convincing me to go back.”

Jongdae goes silent before asking softly, “Did you find a job yet? If you need help you can always come find me or any of the other guys. We’re more than happy to help you.”

“Thank you,” you give him a grateful nod and he flashes you a weak smile before excusing himself and leaves.

“Are you fucking serious?” Chanyeol hollers has he stomps up to Baekhyun with a scowl. “You hired a private investigator?”

“Yes?” Baekhyun looks up at the furious Chanyeol. “And…?”

“What do you mean by ‘and?’” He yells. “That’s crazy! Why would you do that?”

“Because of you!” Baekhyun stands up to glare at Chanyeol heatedly. “I did it so you would calm the fuck down! You’re too fucking stubborn to go see her, Jongdae told me she won’t see you, so the only way for you to get a peace of mind is this!”

Chanyeol grits his teeth but has nothing to say back. Baekhyun only did it for him, but that doesn’t make this okay. “If she finds out, I’m the one she’ll yell at.”

“I’ll try not to let that happen.” Baekhyun cracks a weak grin before plopping back down on his couch. “But until she does find out, this is what we’ll do.”

Chanyeol sinks into the spot next to his friend, exhaustion hitting him. This is crazy. He’s crazy.

He groans. “I hate this.”

“You were a jerk.” Baekhyun points out, hitting a sore spot.

Chanyeol bites his lip. “Yes, I was.”

“Regret it?” Baekhyun smiles.

“Everything.” Chanyeol agrees with a weak smile.

We’re all going mad in slow motion. Everything’s too late.

“Whoa!” You hear an exclamation from the counter as you step up to order your drink. “Aren’t you that famous actress?”

“Was.” You smile at the handsome male who gives you a cute dimpled grin. “I retired.”

“Yes,” he nods slowly, almost a little disappointed. He’s probably one of your fans. “Sad things aside, what would you like to order? On me, because you look like you need it.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t—” You start, surprised at his generosity.

“Please, I insist.” He smiles wider at you. “Your order?”

“Well,” you grin. “One caramel latte, please.”

“Coming right up!” He announces as he taps away on the computer in front of him, grabbing a cup and scribbling something on it as he passes it to his colleague.

You shift over to the next counter and wait for your order.

One of the staff hands you your drink and you quickly find a seat in the back of the café where it’s quiet and you slip into the seat, letting out a soft sigh. You’re not really used to the care-free life yet; you’ve always been busy with schedules. Filming for this, promoting that; it’s a bit strange to suddenly have so much free time.

You also need to start finding a job soon, your money wont last for a lifetime.

You exhale deeply upon your problem. You’ve went to a few places for job interviews, but you don’t really have the education for an actual job. You’ve been studying for acting all your life because it was your passion, so now you can’t really fit in with the rest of the world.

Even if you’re famous, it’s not like a company wants an employee who can’t do anything.

“Hello.”

You blink in surprise at the male who suddenly appeared in front of you. The guy who was at the counter just now. “Um…”

“Sorry,” he quickly apologizes. “It’s just that I have a break right now and you seemed deep in thought but I just wanted to come over and ask for a signature? Because I’m—”

You laugh at his flushed face as he rambles on. He quickly stops upon hearing your light laugh. “Sure, I’ll sign for you.”

“Really?” His eyes sparkles as he fishes around in his uniform pocket, pulling out a small notebook and handing it to you. He takes the pen that was clipped to his collar and passes it to you as well.

“What’s your name?” You ask as you flip to a fresh page.

“Yixing. Zhang Yixing.”

“Yixing.” You repeat absentmindedly as you start writing a little message to him before signing at the bottom. “Here you go.”

“Thank you so much!” He looks at your note with bright eyes and a wide smile. “Um…can I take a picture with you?”

You laugh. “You know, I’m not a celebrity anymore.”

“I know.” He emphasizes as he pulls out his phone. “But I’m your biggest fan and whether your a celebrity or not doesn’t change that fact.”

“Ok, get over here.” You smile as you take his phone and he eagerly makes his way next to you, smiling at the camera as you take the picture.

“Thank you so much!” He thanks and bows in gratitude. He was about to leave, but he pauses and turns back to you, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he watches you nervously.

“Is something wrong?” You ask him, cocking your head at his behavior.

“Are…are you okay?” He questions timidly. “You look a bit bothered.”

“I—” Your mouth goes dry. Yixing is such a kind person, and his expression while looking at you is genuinely worried. You feel like it’s okay to tell him your worries. “Actually, I’m not.”

He sits back down as you start. “I actually…I’m not fully over my marriage.”

He nods at this, understanding. “I guess that’s to be expected. You were the Golden Couple, after all.”

“Right.” You smile sadly before quickly changing the topic. “And I’m looking for a job right now. I can’t seem to find a job that I can actually do…”

Yixing perks up at that, his dimples showing again. “Maybe I can help with that. We’re actually hiring here.”

“H-Here?” You ask in disbelief, looking around the café that is almost packed.

“Yep!” He chirps as he jumps out of his seat and pulls you with him. “Come on, it’s not hard working here. It’ll sustain you for now until you find a better job.”

He leads you to the staff-only area of the café and to the manager. “Minseok-hyung, I find someone who wants to work here!”

The said man raises his eyes from the papers he was busy on and zeros in on you with analytical eyes. “Her?” He frowns. “Aren’t you the former actress?”

“Yes.” You nod once stiffly. This man’s presence is a bit stifling. “I…um…really need this job.”

He sighs. “Well, we’re tight on staff so fine. You’re hired. Yixing, you’re in charge of training her. If you have any slip-ups, you’re fired.”

You stand a bit straighter and bow at him in gratitude. “Thank you so much! You won’t regret it.”

“Let’s hope that fame of yours will bring in a bit more costumers.” Minseok smiles tightly at you as he goes back to his paperwork.

Yixing pulls you out of the room and grins widely at you. “Congrats! I’ll see you tomorrow then. Be here by 7:30 and I’ll give you some lessons to prepare you.”

“Thank you so much.” You smile at him gratefully. “Really, you saved me.”

“Anything for my idol!” He waves you off happily. “I’m just happy to be working with you from now on.”

Looks like luck is finally back on your side.

Previous Chapter│Next Chapter

Façade Mini Masterlist

A/N: I just had to put Yixing in here because I miss him too much. Please tell me how the story is! Thanks for reading~

©kimjongdaely

Request and let’s love!

[adrienaline-rushed-art]

Tomato Soup and Lemon Zest: Catiac Agreste

Rating: Teen

Chapters: 2/3

ao3  fanfic   1 - 2 - 3

Notes: This is not how I thought this chapter would go, and I intended this to be two chapters wtf

P.S. Please let me know what you think! (Also, if anything is offensive, tell me, I like to consider people's feelings) 

based on this post

Comment if you want me to tag you in the next update, otherwise check the tag #adrinathdrawingfic

@samantha-girlscout @artgirllullaby @miraculouslyme @breeeliss @itsmegan347official @deadstache @tallsuperstar @b0n3-crush3r

Also, @yourfavouritekindoftrash made a fic based on the same post, check it out under the tag #adrinathdrawingfic

“Oh my God,” Adrien fell back on his bed, hugging his pillow to his face to suppress the ever waiting wail he’d let out.

Plagg blinked at him slowly while chewing on a slice of camembert. He could almost see the red in Adrien’s face burning through the cushion.

“Plagg…”

“Yeah?”

“Plaaaaaggg…”

“Um, yeah?”

“PLAA-”

“YEAH. OK. Adrien, I’m listening… just say whatever it is before I stop caring.”

Adrien sighed, sitting up suddenly and resting his head in his hands. “Plagg, what have I done?” He groaned, “Did you see the way he looked at me?! Why am I so stupid?!”

“I dunno, but why did it take you so long to realize this?”

“That I’m stupid?”

“No, that you were putting on the dumbest show back there.”

“Not helping!” Adrien reached back at flung a pillow at Plagg.

Plagg laughed as he dodged. “What was it you said right before you left? ‘Don't miss me too much’? I would've paid a million bucks to see the face he made one more time.”

Adrien felt like throwing up. He had ended up flirting with Nathaniel so heavily that he might as well have slapped him in the ass and whispered ‘meet me at my place’ in his ear.

He didn't know where it had come from. Well, he knew how he'd become attracted to Nathaniel. Just one partner class assignment and he couldn't stop smiling at the mention of his name. The moment he had a chance to talk to him again it felt like his heart was a news broadcast and someone had snatched the mic from his hand to shout ‘fuckerightinthepussy’.

Adrien wanted to snort at the meme he had recalled, but he was too busy panicking.

He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone, instantly flipping it upright and pressing the home button in one swift movement.

His thumb hovered over Nino’s name before he caught himself. He couldn't call Nino, he didn't even know about this. He tapped on Alya.

No answer.

Didn't Alya live on her phone? What the hell was he supposed to do now? Was he willing to tell Marinette? She wouldn't be as bad as Nino, and she was honest, so if she made a promise she wouldn't break it. She'd probably understand, after all she knew a thing or two about having a crush.

Screw it.

The phone picked up almost immediately, making Adrien jump.

“Hey, Adrien, this is a pleasant surprise. You never call me,” Marinette’s voice was gentle and relaxed. Adrien didn't feel insecure anymore.

But he was still a nervous wreck of course. “Ha! Yeah, hey Marinette… guess I don't call you, huh?”

“So, what's up?”

“I wanted to tell you something- oh, but you have to promise to keep it a secret! Even from Nino, I'm afraid… but I just need to talk to someone about this.”

“Are you coming out to me?”

“Uh, well, that’s not exactly-”

“I FUCKING KNEW IT.”

“I-”

“You have it bad for Nathaniel don’t you?”  

There was a pause on Adrien’s side. He gasped abruptly, “Did Alya tell you?!”

“No, it was just obvious. Don’t hate me but one time, when it looked like I was texting someone, I was actually filming you so that I could subtly drop Nathaniel’s name and watch your face light up. Here, I’ll send it to you.”

Adrien tapped on the notification ‘MARINETTE HAS SENT YOU A VIDEO’.

“DELETE THAT VIDEO RIGHT NOW.”

Marinette snickered. “Nope.”

“Come on, that’s so embarrassing!”

“I didn’t know you were capable of embarrassment. I mean, you’re the one who took a picture in your underwear and plastered it on the cover of a magazine.”

Adrien let out an impatient sigh, “First of all, it’s not like that was my idea, and second-”

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry. I’ll delete it…”

“Thank you.”

“After I save it to my laptop.”

“Hey! You hang around Alya too much…”

“I do, thank you.”

“So… um…”

“Uhuh, we were talking about your gayness.”

“About that, I didn’t even know about it? That’s why I didn’t really see this as coming out or anything, it all happened so fast, I met Nathaniel and he just- like a truck- he just-”

“Caught you by surprise?”

“...Yeah…”

“Don’t worry, I get it. All too well. So, otherwise you had no idea you were into guys?”

“Not at all. In fact I’m pretty sure I’m still into girls… at least at some point, I’ve met a couple girls I found cute.”

“Naturally. Alya and I are touched that you find us cute by the way.”

Adrien laughed. “You’re welcome? But, no offense, you didn’t make me feel the same as Nathaniel, you know?”

“I mean, that’s the whole point of falling for someone, Adrien.”

“Right but, I’m a little confused about my sexuality right now…”

Marinette took a deep breath, audible over the phone. “Look, as your friendly neighborhood bi, I can confirm that it sounds like you too are a bisexual. Welcome to the club. But you’re the only one who can figure yourself out, don’t just take my word for it.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot that was a thing…”

“What the hell? Are you serious?”

“Kidding. But I just wasn’t sure because I don’t feel like I’m equally attracted to guys and girls?”

“That’s completely normal,” Marinette chuckled, “But anyway, I’m pretty sure you intended to talk about something else?”

“Right…”

Adrien told Marinette everything. From the awkward hello to the cringey goodbye. He felt surprisingly better after venting to her, and he wanted to do it more often.

“You mentioned Chat Noir a lot…” Marinette smiled so hard Adrien swore he could hear it.

“Yeah, and? I wanted to see if he had a type, and I consider myself to be very similar to Chat Noir.”

Marinette snorted. “Yeah, right! You wish!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you’re great and all, Adrien, but according to the story you just told me… you aren’t nearly as slick as Chat Noir.”

It took every bone in Adrien’s body to refrain from yelling into the phone ‘I AM CHAT NOIR’. Instead he just mumbled, “Thanks a lot, Marinette.”

“No! Adrien, I didn’t mean- ok, here’s what I think about you and Nathaniel. Maybe your moves wouldn’t have charmed me, but I don’t have a single doubt that Nathaniel is thinking about you just as much as you are of him. Whatever it is you wanted to do about it, just do it! There’s no point moping around and waiting…” Marinette’s voice seemed to go faint as she finished speaking, as though she had to convince herself of her own words.

Adrien knew she was right. It didn’t take him long to think about it, thank Marinette, and take a chance.

* * *

Nathaniel couldn’t believe it. Just a couple of hours ago, he had teased the idea of being carried away from danger by Chat Noir, and now it was a reality.

He had been sitting in the park, scribbling away again - and trying to keep his mind off of Adrien, who seemed to be particularly invasive of his thoughts - when he had a sudden feeling of being watched.

Out of Nathaniel’s view, Chat Noir was perched on a building near the park. He had been smiling down at him, trying to decide on an appropriate introduction.

I had a feline you’d be here. No…

It’s quite the purrfect day for the park, isn’t it? Ugh, no!

Maybe an introduction wasn’t appropriate at all. Chat Noir almost got up to leave when screams suddenly filled the streets and swarms of ninja-like creatures were flooding the park.

About four of them surrounded Nathaniel,  who look petrified for a brief moment but swallowed hard and replicated his best fighting stance. Chat Noir allowed himself to be amused for a little while, grinning at the sight of his brave little boy. He hopped down with his staff and within seconds Nathaniel’s attackers were down. Before more of them could approach, Chat Noir put his arms under Nathaniel’s knees and back, and swept him off his feet.

It was everything Nathaniel had imagined. Forget the wind in his hair and the view of Paris, he could feel Chat Noir’s heartbeat against his thigh, he could feel his working muscles pull and shift under his fingers. Something he hadn't considered in his fantasy was that he was close enough to take in Chat Noir’s smell. Such a familiar smell…

Chat Noir settled him down gently. “You're safe now.”

Nathaniel fixed his hair. “I would've been fine, but thanks.”

“Oh really?” Chat Noir smirked, raising an eyebrow.

Nathaniel’s eyes trailed along with Chat Noir’s hand, rubbing up along his slender side and resting on his waist.

“W-well, you had some pretty good moves though, I wouldn't mind taking some pointers from you.”

“And I wouldn't mind giving them to you, want me to teach you?”

“Seriously?”

“Of course, just tell me when and where, I'll be there,” Chat winked.

Before he knew it, Nathaniel was spilling out some times they could meet; and he was staring helplessly as he watched Chat Noir turn around, crouch down low, and spring away. Adrien's spot in his mind was being compromised. Dammit, what was he supposed to do now?

[dcndelicn]

tristan gets hurt and brenna has a semi relapse

@pcnumbras

tess 

Any call was a risk. They didn't know what they were walking into before they got there, and today was no different. An apartment building had caught fire and the rush was on to get everyone out safely as quick as they could. Tristan and two other firefighters were just about done clearing the third floor of the building when he heard a woman yelling for help, and rushing in he went. He ushered her out the door, and went back in to check the rest of the unit, but before he even knew what was happening a piece of ceiling fell down and all he could think about was Brenna and Austen. He was having a hard time breathing when he could feel himself being pulled out of the building and being put into the ambulance, his friends telling him it was going to be okay, except they weren't really talking to him but about him like he wasn't there at all as he slowly went unconscious. Diego was the paramedic on duty that day, and he worked quickly to intubate tristan before his airway tightened, he had some burns and the smoke inhalation on top of that would be a mess. He sent a text message to Sharna, letting her know one of the guys from his house was coming in, hoping that she and carlos would be able to help him. Once the doctors took him back, Diego called Brenna, Tristans emergency contact. "Brenna, this is Diego an EMT at firehouse 51. Tristan was injured, hes at the hospital now. You should go as soon as you can."

britt

The day was going good. Brenna was spending a lot of time at the theater, a large chunk of her day was always spent there. Along with Austen. Getting the phone call, Brenna’s heart stopped and she immediately called her mom to watch Austen. Arriving at the hospital, she frantically asked someone at the nurse’s station for Tristan and they told her to wait. The waiting was the hard part and she quickly went to the bathroom and into a stall, performing the action that had become second nature to her. Walking out of the bathroom, she took a seat, her chest tightening as she watched the doctors pass in front of her.

tess

The guys from the station came and went as they had to, but there was always a few guys there as they waited a few hours for the doctors to come out. Carlos had been the one to address the burns, and so he came out to the waiting room to talk to Brenna. "Ms. King, if you want to come with me you can come see him now."  He said, waiting by the doors to the ICU to let Brenna back into the restricted area. "He's awake, but he can't talk right now. Someone will come out to update the rest of you shortly." He said to the others in the waiting room.

britt 

Brenna was in a daze. She wasnt paying attention to those around her. Everything was a blur. Hearing her name, she was yanked out of her thoughts and jumped up, nodding her head. She headed over to Carlos, “What...what happened? Is he going to be ok?”

tess

"We was burned in a fire and suffered some smoke inhalation. The burns don't look too bad, his protective gear kept him mostly protected, but there was some on his throat and because of swelling, he's got a tube down his throat right now so it doesn't close.  He's going to be okay, but we're keeping him in ICU for close observation." Carlos said, leading her towards the room. "So like I said, he can't talk, but he knows whats going on and why he has the tube. "

britt

Hearing Carlos, her heart stopped and tears stung her eyes and she quickly wiped them away. Arriving at his room, Brenna chewed her lower lip then started popping the rubber bands on her wrist rapidly and ran her hands through her hair. She could feel her throat tighten and she hated how emotional she got in certain situations. she realized in that moment just how much she needed him. “Alright, thank you.” She spoke softly.

tess

"Of course. Do you want me to call your brother? Or is there someone you'd like us to call?" He asked, attempting to make his voice as calming as possible. He opened the door and let her walk in, standing in the back of the room for a moment. Tristan felt tears in his eyes when he saw how upset Brenna was, and all he wanted was to tell her he was gonna be fine, but he was barely able to keep himself from coughing and gagging.

britt

When Carlos asked if she wanted him to call Austin, she started sobbing and nodded her head. She felt like a lost little girl in that moment and Austin had always been her protector. “Can you call him please?” Walking into his room, she balled her hands into fists and squeezed tight as hard as she could. She shook her head, “Don’t...it’s ok.” Approaching his bed, she wanted to take his hand but she knew she would completely lose it. She wiped his tears away, and started playing with his fingers. “I’m living my worst nightmare right now. I hate your job and I hate it even more right now. But I love you and your job makes you happy so I deal with it.”

tess

Carlos nodded his head in understanding. "We should be able to take it out in a few hours. I'll give Austin a call though. And Laurel." Carlos didn't really know Brenna, but she was family in a roundabout way and so he would go the extra mile to make sure they got treated as such. He stepped out of the room for a minute to call Austin and his daughter so that Brenna wouldn't have to be alone. When she wiped a tear away, Tristan looked into her eyes, trying to communicate a hundred apologies. He wanted to tell he he loved her, but he settled for instead gripping on to her hand as she played with his fingers.

britt

“You should. Meaning there’s no guarantee, right? You dont have to call Laurel, it’s fine. She’s probably busy. Thank you though.” She was scared, her hands were shaking and it was hard for her to remain calm, despite how hard she was trying to. He gripped her hand and fresh tears started to fall. “I cannot lose you, Tristan.” She hated that she was being so emotional. She needed to go to the bathroom but she already slipped once, she couldnt do it again.

tess

"No, it could be sooner, it could be longer. We have to see how his body does at healing, and wait for the swelling to go down. " He said, giving her a soft smile.  "I've got confidence he'll make a full recovery."  He said, trying to give her something to make her feel a little more at ease. Tristans brows furrowed together. He hated not being able to speak. He held his free hand out, making a motion for a writing utensil so he could communicate with her.

britt

Brenna nodded her head. She felt bad that she wasnt feeling very confident in the situation. “You seem to be the only optimistic one here.” She shrugged her shoulders. Nothing in her life had ever gone how she wanted it to until Tristan and that seemed like it was falling apart. She fumbled through her purse for pen and paper and pulled out a pad and pen and handed it to him. She felt like she couldnt breathe and she quickly ran to the bathroom, pacing yet again as she had to make a choice between progress and backtracking in which she chose the latter and made her way back to the room. “Sorry...” She said, putting on her best smile.

tess

"Its going to be okay. I took care of the burn wounds myself, and will do my best to make sure there is minimal scarring. Just hang in there, okay?" He said. Tristan was greatful when she handed him the pen and paper, about to start writing something when she rushed off to the bathroom. He wasn't stupid, he knew what was happening. He scribbled out the words I'm sorry on the paper, and drawn a sad smily face as he waited for her to come back, handing it to her when he returned.

britt

“Yeah, ok.” She spoke softly. Coming back into the room, she frowned seeing what he had written. “For what?” She asked, tilting her head to the side. “It’s ok.”

tess

He wanted so badly to just speak, but he couldn't even let out a sigh and that was all the more aggravting. He looked down at the paper, writing another note. For scaring you. Making you worry and relapse. he wrote, handing it back to her.

britt

Brenna frowned once again and shook her head. “I’m fine. My stomach is all knotty and twisty. I’m terrified of losing you but I’m ok. Exhausted but fine.” She gave him a smile. It was a partial truth; she relapsed yes, but it was more than that. She took a deep breath and winced slightly. She felt tears sting her eyes again and she hated it. “Can I lay with you?”

tess

Tristan, closed his eyes for a minute, before writing another note. If you say so. He didn't know if he believe her fully or not, but he did still feel bad about worrying her.  When she asked if she could lay next to him  his eyes lit up, and he lighly tapped the spot next to him. He couldn't really move, but nothing would feel better than having her next to him.

britt

“I do.” She smiled. She hated lying to Tristan but he didnt need to be worried about her right now, especially when she wasn’t concerned about it herself. A wave of relief washed over her when he tapped the space next to him and she didn’t hesitate in moving over to the bed and laying next to him, and laid her head on his chest, being careful of any equipment. The sound of his heartbeat helping to relax her. “I took Austen to practice with me today and she danced...or rather, she tried to dance.”

tess

He did his best not to move as she climbed in next to him, and he felt a strong sense of comfort as her head laid on his chest. Tristan needed her to breath, just as much as he needed the tube in his throat. His heart swelled with pride when she said Austen tried to dance at practice, and his brows furrowed together as he searched for the pen again Where is she? He wrote down.

britt

She looked at what he wrote, “Oh! She’s with my mom until Austin gets here and I’ll have him pick her up.” She smiled. “I wasnt sure what I was going to be dealing with once I got here so I figured that was the best bet.”

tess

It wasn't that he worried about Austen's safety with Brenna's mom. She had raised 3 kids, she wasn't incapable. He was more worried about her mom saying something to Austen when she got older.  He  wrote one last thing on the paper I miss her , before handing it to Brenna and wrapping an arm around her. He was getting really tired, and he hoped that after some rest he'd be doing much better.

britt

Brenna smiled, reading what he wrote and nodded her head. “I know. I do too. Maybe once you get that tube out, I can have Austin bring her up here. I didnt want to frighten her.” She smiled when he wrapped his arm around her, instantly feeling protected.  “Get some rest babe. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

tess

Tristan fell asleep before he realized it and woke up with a bit of a panic, forgetting for a second what had happened and that he had a tube in his throat. He fumbled around for the help button, pressing it so that someone could come in. When they did, he pointed to his throat, and the nurse left and returned with a doctor, and gently they removed the tube. His throat was burning, but he still breathed a sigh of relief. "Babe. I'm sorry." He said to Brenna, his voice hoarse.

britt

She had fallen asleep but was jolted awake by Tristan panicking. When he pressed the help button, she got off the bed as they removed the tube. Hearing his voice, she started crying fresh tears and nodded her head. “It’s ok. You’re ok. That’s all that matters. Do you want some water?”

tess

He hated seeing her cry and upset, but he hoped this time it was because he could actually talk to her again. "I'm okay. I'm gonna be just fine." He nodded his head when she asked if he wanted some water. He was thirsty and he thought the liquid my help sooth his throat. "So give it to me straight, how ugly am I?" He asked, mostly joking. He knew they couldn't have been too bad, the pain was isolated to a small part of his body.

britt

“You better be.” She said with a small smile. She poured him some water and handed it to him. She let out a laugh, “You look just fine, my love.” The pain coursing down her throat was intense but she shrugged it off. “I can call Austin and see if he can bring the little one up here if you’d like me to.” She winced slightly, tilting her head so that her ear was on her shoulder.

tess

He took a small sip of the water,  the cold water felt good on his throat, even though it did hurt to swallow. "Good, wouldn't want you to leave me cause I'm ugly." He teased, knowing full well she would never do that. "Please. At least so I can give her a hug." He noticed the way she was holding her head, and his brows furrowed and he frowned, "Whats going on?"

britt

“You’re an idiot.” She said with a chuckle. “Yeah, I’ll ask Austin to bring her up here.” She smiled, taking out her phone to text her brother. She shook her head, “Headache but I’m fine. It’s been a long day.”

tess

"Maybe" He said with a smile, shrugging. "awesome. And I'm glad she's with your brother. She loves spending time with them. " He knew it would have been a hard day for Brenna, he'd been hurt. If Brenna was hurt he would be a mess too. "Are you sure thats all it is? Come lay back down and rest." He said, patting the bed.

britt

“Uh...definitely.” She laughed, shaking her head. “She does. I’m glad she’s with him too. I know my mom can take care of a kid but I dont want her to have the opportunity to instill in Austen what she has in me.” She smiled and went back over and climbed into bed next to him. “My throat hurts but I’ll be fine. Dont worry about me, ok?”

tess

"She loves her grandma but I completely agree.  I don't ever want her doubting herself, especially based on her appearance. I just want her to be happy."  He smiled when she laid back down, letting out a sigh. "You should have a doctor look at it while we are stuck here. I always worry about you because I love you. "

britt

“I do too. I just want her to enjoy being a kid.” She said softly. She shook her head, looking up at Tristan. “I’m fine babe. I’ll be ok. Do not worry about me, alright?”