#started painting her jacket and noped the fuck out

[eluvixnsarchived]

haylin!! as usual!! a few people liked this specific sketch so i coloured it tonight at work. there's so much i wanna add and adjust but i will sit on it for a while and instead throw this at you. happy haylin, because it isn't often we see her smile, never mind grin so wide ✨

tag list!

@bialanwake @aeducanthaig @lavampira

@greenecreek @hylfystt

[klausysworld]

Hey 👋🏻 You write very well🥺 Can I request something? If you liked the idea you may write it I would love to read😊

Student Teacher Trope between Klaus and Reader where she hides her feelings towards Klaus meanwhile all students swoon over the teacher. Obviously one day he makes her stay and dot dot dot. Please don’t hesitate on making it as smuty as you want😂. Thank you🙃

Something about this picture just-

His little secret?

PT2

“I don’t care what you say he is fucking hott” my friend exclaimed as we walked down the school halls

“I never said he wasn’t hot, I’m just not seeing why everyone thinks he’s the best thing on the planet. Someone actually broke up with their boyfriend just to look, and i quote ‘more available for him’ because apparently he might want someone more vulnerable and pathetic. What is a pedo?” I asked and my friend slapped my arm

“We’re literally in college, we’re of legal age and he can fuck anyone he wants, any time he wants if he likes” she dazed as her eyes trained forward. I turned my head to see just the man, Mr.Mikaelson heading right towards us, our eyes locked for a split second before i rolled mine and gave my friend a look

“Really-“

“Shut up he can hear us” she whisper yelled and i sighed

“No he can’t” i mumbled turning to look in his direction, he was leaning against the doorframe to his classroom, talking to a student though as soon as i looked over his eyes flickered to meet mine. His hand came up to a little wave as a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth

“Never mind he can definitely hear us” i whispered and she grabbed my arm dragged me away

“Oh my god he waved at you” she was bouncing on her feet as a huge grin spread across my face

“Oh my gosh we’re to be wed!” I cried out sarcastically

“Really!!?”

“Nope now lets get going” i walked off towards our first lesson of the day and she made a sound of disappointment

“But I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if we just…I don’t know sat in his office for a little bit”

“Ew the both of us and him? Let’s face it half the school would pile it” i scrunched my nose up and she grumbled

“Fine I’ll just go” she muttered

“You care about your grades” i reminded and she sighed

“Not if he’s an option”

“Teachers don’t even get paid much”

“He’s a professor and his designer jacket says otherwise. So does the brand new suit that he’s currently in that he looks- ugh just delicious in” her head was thrown back dramatically as i laughed

“Oh yes very sexy indeed, do you think he’d take me against his office walls? My dark red underwear watches the paint sir, would you like to compare it?” I asked rhetorically with a hand over my heart

“How do you know what colour the walls are?” She asked with an eyebrow arched.

“I’ve gone in a couple times, you know for papers and stuff, he’s sent me to grab things for him a few times” she made an ‘mhm’ as we kept walking

“Well if you ever get to be in there with him do tell” she whispered with a wink before we split off to our first classes

So first and second sucked

And now we had the legend himself.

As soon as i got stepped through the doors i sighed, running my hand down my face to mentally prepare myself for everyone to gawk and whisper over him

I quietly made my way past his desk to my seat which was way to close to the front than i would normally be but my best friend insisted we sit right by him at the start of the year and I wasn’t expecting a fucking god to turn up

Like yes he’s hot and yes he’s very fuckable but when everyone says it i get annoyed so I’ve decided not to fawn over him every second.

But then again…when you’re actually sat right infront of him, close enough to smell his cologne and able to see every detail of his skin, the way his shirt is a little too tight around his biceps as he removed his blazer. Lets just say my legs stay clamped together as i try my best to focus on the task at hand.

My skirt was way too short today to be sat infront of this man. I shifted in my seat as my eyes travelled to his hands that were scribbling something down while he spoke to the class. Such a rich voice, deep and throaty, i looked back to his face, such beautiful eyes, almost sapphire colour with with a shine of electric blue in certain lights.

God he’s just so dreamy…

And he is looking right at me. Shit what did he ask?

“Miss y/n, the answer?” He asked, both brows risen as i opened and closed my mouth a few times

“Uhm I’m not sure?” I asked in a confused tone and his gaze darkened

“Have you been listening for the past 20 minutes?” He questioned and my eyes grew wide, i wiped my head round to the clock to see we were indeed 20 minutes in. I heard his throat clear as i turned back to him with a nervous smile

“Eh well no…not really” i muttered honestly and the corner of his mouth twitched like it did earlier

“Whilst i admire your honesty i am afraid i will need to be seeing you after class, you’ve missed some important parts of the course while in your dream land” he replied seeming amused with the situation, at least he’s not mad.

“Yep sure, sorry sir” i mumbled before smacking my head on the desk a little too loud and silently telling myself to fuck off. I could hear my friend snicker as she rubbed my back

“Oh how i wonder what you were fantasising about” she whispered to me and i smacked the back of her head. She gasped a tad but too loud drawing attention. His attention.

“Miss y/n would you like to step outside?” Me and my friend glanced at each other panicked and she mouthed a sorry as i grabbed my bag and walked out.

He was still talking. I could just leave right? Skip the rest of the day and try again tomorrow. Good plan, I’m proud of myself. Just i took a step backwards away from the door he walked out infront of me. Hands behind his back as the door clicked closed

“Leaving?” He asked with a certain glint in his eyes

“No…just um”

“Don’t lie, you were honest earlier, I don’t appreciate liars” the authority in his voice had my body running hot.

“I was gonna leave, yeah” I murmured with my head down slightly. I glanced up at him to see his eyes narrowed in thought

“Go for a walk, and return at the end of the day, i would like to see you in my office” he got quieter with the last sentence and he was now much closer to me, oh god i could feel his body heat. My eyes flicked to his and I swallowed thickly as i weakly nodded my head. His eye line lowered before returning to mine

“Your skirt…” he started

Go on say it’s too short

“It’s pretty” he muttered, his fingers touched the bottom of it, brushing over the tops on my thighs as i sucked in a breath, god it was like everything in me was begging for him to fuck me, I wouldn’t care if every other person in the building came to watch as long as he touched me.

“Thank you sir” I uttered and his tongue darted out to wet his lips

“I’ll see you soon miss y/n” his hand lingered dangerously close to my surely damp underwear before he walked back into his room.

I groaned as I lightly hit the wall and stormed off now both normally frustrated and sexually frustrated

Anyway

I took my walk, and got lunch and then went home and slept.

I now sluggishly made my way to his office, most people were gone, a few people walking out. I was a little late.

I knocked on his door lightly almost hoping maybe he had gone home. That thought was short lived as the door opened, he coaxed me into the room quickly and guided me to sit in the chair opposite to his. Rude, we got shitty chairs and he got a fancy leather, vintage looking seat.

“You’re late” he stated as he sat down

“I was asleep” i told him mid yawn and he hummed

“Are you awake enough to be learning or should we reschedule?”

Yes fantastic.

“Good idea, I’m exhausted! Will come back tomorrow instead, great plan, right well, eh bye” i quickly rushed towards the door but an arm round my waist pulled me back to his chest making me squeak in surprise

“Now now, that was just rude” he whispered lowly into my ear, fuck he was hot. It felt as though my clit was pulsing. His hand was fiddling with the top of my skirt and I couldn’t stop myself from propping my ass out slightly, pressing against his crotch making him grunt. A very sexy grunt.

I could feel him becoming hard against me as he sighed and brought his other hand to rest on my left thigh.

“You shouldn’t be presenting such a lovely ass to any man like this sweetheart, especially your professor.” He told me as his hand moved higher up, pushing the skirt up as he gripped my upper thigh, so fucking close to my cunt it was unbelievable.

“You shouldn’t be hard for your student” I responded quietly

“I wouldn’t be hard if i knew you weren’t soaked” he whispered, a finger pressed to my entrance through my panties making me gasp and take a step away from him. He didn’t stop me as i span around and took a step back towards the close door, when did that close?

“You’re my teacher- you could be fired and i’d be called a slut. Literally any other girl in any of your other classes will be perfect for what you want! I’m gonna go home and I’ll see you later- at school- in class with other people and with a longer skirt.” Just as my hand twisted the handle he was back infront of me, hands on my shoulders making heat rush through me at the contact. My heart thumped loudly in my ears as his face neared mine

“What exactly do you think that i want?” He asked huskily

“Well i think it’s obvious to assume you want sex” i laughed breathlessly and he frowned a little

“But you do not?” He asked, his head tilting in question

“I don’t want the reputation that comes with it” i whispered

“I will keep you a secret my love” he muttered, he then pressed a soft kiss to my jaw making my eyes close momentarily

“You don’t like liars” i mumbled but he kept leaving kisses down my neck, finding the spot where my neck meets my shoulder and sucking with a hum. The little whimper that came from me had him licking a bold stipe over the newly formed hickey

“No but i like you more than i care about a small lie” he muttered into my skin

“How many other girls have you had in this office?” I asked trying to clear my thoughts

“None, only you have been in here, i only ever send you to get my papers and I’ve only kept you behind” my head tilted back in response inviting his greedy lips to colour me purple

“You could have anybody else” i mumbled and he huffed into my shoulder before pulling away, a darker look in his eyes

“I want you, do not act as though you weren’t lusting over me only a few hours ago, did you know that you fiddle with your hair? You pen was in your mouth, you were taunting me. But when i told you i didn’t like you to lie you obeyed, because you want to be good for me, look at me and tell me that you want me to step away, you can go home if you want to sweetheart but it won’t lessen my admiration for you” i blinked in response unsure what to do next. I could feel my thighs growing sticky as they pressed together. He took in my silence and nodded

“Okay” he uttered taking a step away from me, his hands missing from my body and his lips gone from my skin.

“I didn’t ask you to step away” i whispered looking up at him through my lashes

“What would you like me to do?” He asked moving forward

“Kiss me” i barely murmured before his lips were on mine, soft and full as he pressed me into the door, hands on my face as i moaned quietly against him. His hot tongue slipped into my mouth immediately claiming mine, I didn’t even want to put up a fight for dominance. Everything about this man screamed authority and i loved it.

“Jump y/n” he muttered into me and i was fast to wrap my legs around his waist, my skirt was pushed all the way up, my panties pushed right against his hard on.

“You’re going to be so beautiful on my cock one day, my love” my mouth gaped slightly at his words, his lips were back at my throat going down between my top

“I don’t think anyone else should see you walking around with such a low cut top” he muttered, his tongue swiped over the swells of my breasts. His hands coming to push the sides of my breasts pushing them forward out of my bra to wrap his lips around one of my nipples. His teeth scraped the sensitive bud making me gasp and arch towards him, he groaned as he tugged at it, my hands gripped his hair, such perfectly done hair. He never failed to dress his best.

“Such sweet sounds” he murmured as he pulled away with a small ‘pop’. His index and thumb pinched at the wet nipple while his mouth went for the other giving it the same treatment before slipping them both back into my bra

“I’m afraid we don’t have a lot of time in here, there are other teachers waking around and i can’t have anyone see you so vulnerable” he whispered kissing my lips again

“If you just want a quick fuck it’s fine” i muttered reaching between us to remove his belt. His hand grabbed onto mine halting my actions as i held the leather accessory

“I thought you understood, i like you, i care about you and you are not just a fuck release. I want to have you properly, forever” he told me as he took my face in his hand

“You want me to be your little secret” i replied with a confused frown

“Well yes but…only until you have finished your education, then we will be together publicly” his face was so serious he couldn’t be lying

“Together” I uttered and he responded with a kiss to my lips. Loving but hungry as his hips ground to mine, quiet throaty moans falling from his tongue into my mouth. His hand moved round to run down my back, it rested over my ass and he squeezed gently at the flesh

I wrapped my arms around his neck as he walked towards his desk. He sat me down ontop the polished wood, it was cold against the backs of my thighs but i didn’t mind, his hands were all over my body keeping me warm anyway.

His fingertips played with the waistband of my panties pulling at them making me lift my hips letting him pull them off my legs. He stuffed then into his drawer as he pulled away form my face

“Spread your pretty legs” he murmured running his hands along my upper thighs. I opened them across the desk letting him see how wet i was

“You’re dripping onto my desk love” he muttered as his fingers moved to spread my lower lips. I moaned softly, my hands moved to hold onto his forearm pulling him closer to my desperate cunt. I could feel the heat inside me begging for him and i urged him to keep touching

“Please sir” i whispered.

“You can call me Klaus, we are to be together, you cannot call me your professor forever” he smiled slightly at me and I returned it shyly. God what was he doing to me. This morning i was rolling my eyes at the thought of swooning for him and now i was begging him to finger me?

His middle finger brushing over my clit had my thoughts rushing away as i moaned much too loud making him chuckle

“Remember there are others hear” he reminded while flicking his finger over my slippery sphere. My body tightened momentarily as i whimpered. His fingers moved quick and pressed down a little heavier every however many seconds. The pressure on my clit made the pressure inside me grow too. The sensitive bundle of nerves had my hips lifting to meet his touch, what i imagine to be a ball of electricity spinning together was forming in my lower abdomen

A finger pushing inside of my fluttering walls, i moaned loudly and he shushed me, he leaned down to push my face into his neck while he slid his finger in and out of my body, his thumb was quick to keep my needy clit company. My lips latched onto his smooth skin, i sucked harshly in hopes of leaving my own marks on him while he added another finger.

“Say my name” he muttered, I whimpered softly and his other hand patted the top my ass

“Say it”

“Klaus!” I moaned into his neck giving in to his command

“That’s it love, keep going, quietly” he whispered as his fingers curled inside of me. The electricity growing while i chanted his name

“Good girl, good girl” he repeated as he managed to get a third finger inside me. I could feel my walls stretching around his hand as I squirmed in pleasure

“Oh god- I’m going to cum on your desk” i cried throwing my head back

“Yeah? You gonna cum on my hand love?” He asked huskily

“Fuck- I’m- and you’re- oh god” my mind was running a thousand miles per minute as i took in the situation. Despite how wrong everything we were doing was my body craved him. His fingers were reaching just the right spot inside me to have my legs shaking, my walls squeezing his hand tightly while my nails dug into the wood below.

“Be the good girl i know you are and let go for me, come on darling” he encouraged making me muffle my moans into his neck again, my blunt teeth nipping his skin.

A hand brushed at my jaw as his thumb stroked my cheek. My mouth hung open though no sounds escaped as I finally came around his fingers, i could feel it spill between my thighs to the desk while i panted with my head tucked under his chin while he whispered sweet things to me.

Just as i was about to say something we heard someone knock at the door, blood drained from my face as i clutched his shirt

“Shh sh” he hushed while pulling me down from the desk

“Who is it?” He called

“Mr Mikaelson? I’m on my way out now, there’s only one or two others here, have a good evening” one of the other teachers yelled through the door

“Of course, you too miss” he replied while he threaded his fingers through my hair

“That was terrifying” I uttered and he laughed breathily

“Perhaps next time we’ll go to my house” he offered tilting my jaw to look at him

“Uhuh and the time after that maybe I’ll be waiting under the table for you” i giggled and his eyes blackened

Before he could speak however my phone went off, my mother.

“Oh i have to go” i mumbled and he nodded

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning yes?” He asked while he quickly wiped my legs with some hand wipes he had on his desk

“Can i have my underwear back?” I questioned trying to control my blush

“I’m afraid i need those, I think I’ll make a collection hm?” He smirked as he kissed my lips once more

“You are a dirty man” I muttered

He simply hummed in return and tugged my skirt to cover a little more of my ass

“Careful when you walk, although a pretty skirt, it is a tad bit short” he muttered feeling my ass through the material

“Should i pick a longer one?” I asked pushing back into him again

“Absolutely not”

[bellysoupset]

Halloween Saga - Part 4 - Bella

"Wagner, Atwood," the police officer shouted, causing them to jump to their feet, "get out of here."

"Told you they wouldn't hold us overnight," Leo whispered to Bella and she nodded in agreement, but felt completely disconnected from her body as doing so. There was a blooming bruise on Leo's chin, that would be black in the morning. He had lost his beret and his hair was strikingly white tonight, bouncing off the super bright overhead lights. Bella squinted at it, averting her eyes.

"I need you two to sign some paperwork and not get out of town," the officer at front desk said, sliding two different sheets of paper, one for each of them. Bella struggled with the pen, writing Isabella and then hesitating at the surname.

"Bell?"

"Uhm- Sorry," she blinked, quickly turning the M she had started to write and finishing it off with Atwood. It didn't look right. Was this the signature she had settled on when changing it?

Leo frowned at her, but didn't say anything. He had a killer headache, but mostly he was just worried. Wide awake and worried about his friends and his boyfriend. The haunted look on Jonah's face kept dancing before his eyes.

They grabbed their items and then walked outside the station, Leo letting out a heavy sigh and picking up his phone, "Bell, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she mumbled, rubbing her face and cringing when her palms came back grey. She had forgotten about the make up, "who are you calling?"

"Jon," Leo said, biting the skin around his thumb and waiting until the call connected. It took a minute, but then Jonah's voice rang through.

"Leo? Are you alright? Are you in trouble? Where are-"

"We're fine," Leo said quickly, "I'm fine, they didn't even hold us for all that long. There were a lot of witnesses. How's Wendy?"

"Unconscious, but she's gonna be fine. Just going to have a bad day tomorrow..." Jonah sounded completely defeated. Leo leaned his head as he noticed Bella sliding closer, a puzzled frown on her face.

"Wen's okay?"

"She's fine," he whispered back, raising his thumbs, "Vince is with her?"

"Yeah, he just got here, thirty minutes ago," Jonah's voice turned into a yawn, "is Bella still with you? She's okay?"

"I'm fine," Bella answered, since she had all but glued her temple to Leo's, in order to overhear, "is Luke with Vince?"

"Nope," Jonah answered, "but he did say he left with Lucas, hold on a minute..."

Leo heard some rustling around and whispers, then Jonah's voice came back, "Vince said he left Luke back at your place, a while ago. Asleep."

"Oh," Bella frowned, but didn't say anything else, pulling away from Leo. He noticed she was shivering, so Leo held the phone between his cheek and shoulder, striping down his white jacket and handing it to her, while saying "does Vin need anything? Wendy?"

"A change of clothes," Jonah yawned again, "I'll go get it in her apartment, I think Vince's also got clothes there-"

"I can help," Leo argued, observing Bella from the corner of his eye. She was looking off into the distance, not even attempting to call Luke, which was concerning in its own, "I'm gonna go over to the hospital, okay?"

"You really don't have to, Wendy's fine-"

"I'm going over, Jon. You sound exhausted, I'm wide awake and there's all the party mess to be dealt with too."

"Ah shit," Bella groaned, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes as she was reminded of it, "shit."

"Are you sure?" Jonah sounded relieved, despite the questioning and Leo rolled his eyes. He couldn't sleep even if someone paid him, not after all that wrestling around.

"I am, I'll see you in a bit. Love you," as soon as he hung up, Leo turned to Bella, putting a sympathetic hand on her shoulder, "no offense, Bells, but you look dead."

"Haha," she scoffed, rubbing at her cheek, "it's the fucking paint-"

"No, I meant really," Leo offered her a kind smile, "go home."

"No," she shook her head, stumbling a little on her feet, "there's the fucking band to be dealt with. I hired them, I need to at least-"

"Bell, you're crazy if you think anyone stuck around after the police showed up. There's just a fucking mess in there, no one else. Go home, I'll go help Jonah and then tomorrow we can switch up and you deal with the drama."

She bit down her lip, but Leo could read right through her. In fact, so could anyone, Bella looked downright sick. He racked his brain, trying to recall if she had been drunk or had something else happened, but his memory was pretty much a blur since so much had happened in quick succession.

"Fuck... Yeah, alright," Bella nodded, "thank you, you're the best."

Leo blushed, then glanced down at the ziploc bag she was still holding, with her phone, "uhm... Are you gonna call Luke? I'm gonna get an Uber to the hospital, if you wanna share."

"I don't..." once again Bella seemed completely lost, more than a little dazed, "I don't know if I should call him... He's asleep-"

So?

Leo frowned, not liking this one bit, but he had no context for how Bell was acting and the last thing he wanted was to make her feel like a burden, "we can share the Uber then... Unless you don't wanna go home?"

A flick of something passed over her face, but then she shook her head, "no, I wanna go home."

Bell knew she was worrying Leo, judging by his concerned expression, but she didn't know how to reassure him that everything was fine. Sure, she was a little off her game, but it had been a very long night.

She rested her cheek against the window of the backseat of the car, watching Leo on the passenger seat. He was texting Vince, she could tell by the picture on the corner.

"Wen's gonna be alright, right?" Bella whispered, watching the street lights all blur into one mess and looking away. Her head was throbbing, to the point she could genuinely feel it under her fingertips when she touched her temple.

"Jon said she'll be fine. As soon as I get any news, I'll shoot you a text, alright?" Leo said, just as they turned the corner of Bell's street. She mumbled something in agreement and the car came to a stop, but Bella didn't get out.

"Bell? We're here..."

"Yeah, uhm-" her fingers were barely cooperating. It took her a second, but then she unlocked the backseat door and squeezed Leo's arm in a friendly manner, "thanks, we'll talk in a few hours, alright? And call if anything changes with Wendy, please?"

"Absolutely," Leo squeezed her hand back and she forced herself out of the car, climbing the three steps that separated her front door from the street.

Bella waved goodbye as she noticed Leo still sitting there, "go on, I just have to find my keys-" she couldn't remember where the fuck-

The front door opened and Bella jumped, startled. Luke looked furious, as he moved away from the door to let her in and waved to Leo.

"Bye Leo, thanks for bringing her home-"

"Bye...?" Leo frowned, but no sooner he said that, Bella entered the house and Luke closed the door without any more talking.

She flinched at the noise, since it reverbed through her skull. Lucas let out a sigh, leaning against the door.

"It's... Almost 3 AM," he said slowly, "I was starting to doubt you were gonna come home at all."

Bella frowned, struggling to understand why exactly he was pissed. Her mind was slowly putting together Luke wasn't happy, but the reason why was lost on her.

"Why wouldn't I...?" she stumbled back and Lucas' hand darted out, grabbing her wrist before she could fall on her ass. He frowned even more.

"And you're wasted."

"I'm not," she unhooked her wrist from his grasp easily, sitting on the couch and removing her heels, "I'm sorry for waking you up."

"You didn't wake me up," Lucas sighed, dropping the act and moving with her, as if he was tied to her hip by some invisible line. He sat on the coffee table, "...I'm being a jerk, I'm sorry," he rubbed at his eyes, "I was just worried and in pain and you weren't home, so I... I'm sorry."

Bella frowned, confused and annoyed at the apology, but she couldn't quite formulate it into words, so all that came out was, "it's fine."

Lucas made a face, "it's not fine... Was the party fun?"

"Why were you in pain?" Bella answered instead, removing the stockings and leaning back on the couch. It felt like it was swaying with her and there was a constant ringing in her ear.

"I told you..." Luke said, sounding annoyed, before his face cleared up, "Ah, you didn't hear me... It was a migraine, but it's better now... I thought Vince would've told you, he left while I was-"

"Vince is in the hospital with Wendy," Bella answered, "I didn't see him all ni-"

"What!?" Luke exclaimed, "hospital!? What- Why!? What happened?!"

Bell flinched at his tone, sitting up straight once again, so she could see Lucas' worried face. She rolled her shoulders, forcing the annoyance away, but they continued to be stiff.

"Some idiot in the band drugged Wendy. Jon took her to the hospital."

"What the fuck, Bella?" Lucas said quietly, "is she conscious? Did something-"

"No one touched her. Leo saw the guy trying to drag her out..." Bella frowned, uneasily. She hadn't said it out loud, but she knew it. The cup that had drugged Wendy, had been meant for Bell. It made her feel all sorts of humiliated and violated.

"Fuck," Luke said quietly, getting up from the coffee table to he could retrieve his phone in the bedroom. Their house was so tiny that she could still hear him perfectly as he said, "I have... I have to call Vince. That explains why he left without saying anything, I thought he had gone back to the party while I slept-"

"Vince drove you home?" Bella guessed, grabbing on the couch's back and forcing herself up. Her legs felt like they were made of jell-o. She slowly made her way back to their room.

"Yeah, I was pretty useless," Luke said, pressing the phone to his ear. Vince didn't pick up, neither did Bella expect him to. She turned around, grabbing on their dresser.

"Can you unzip me?"

"He's not answering me," Lucas pouted, unzipping her dress and Bella shrugged, peeling it off. It fell to a puddle on the floor and she couldn't bring herself to pick it up, instead just staring at it.

"Jon and Leo are there with him, he's fine..." she mumbled, lips numb. Her body was on the auto pilot as she moved to their bathroom and tied her hair up, finally washing the horrible grey face paint and makeup. It had all melted together in one big mess a while ago.

"Was it that fucking asshole who did that to Wendy?" Lucas asked, leaning on the bathroom door, arms crossed. Bella glanced at his reflection, the cotton pad soaked in makeup remover pressed to her left eye.

"Who?"

"The idiot who was hitting on you? Lucian? Julian?"

"No," Bella frowned, then wiped away all the mascara, "no, it was some other idiot. Never seen them in my life..." Her stomach churned as she once again thought the roofie had been meant for her. That her friend was unconscious in a hospital bed because she had put the drink in her hand.

"Bell?" Luke called after a minute too long of heavy silence, "are you mad at me?"

Yes. No. Maybe.

Bella shrugged, "I don't know," she said after a moment, "I don't know, Luke. I just... I just wanna go to bed."

"Okay..." he said, sounding and looking every bit like a kicked puppy, "I'm sorry I was such a dick about that guy... And the party. I'm sorry, I just-"

"I don't care, Lucas," Bella interrupted him with a tired sigh, "really, whatever- I really just wanna go to bed."

"Alright..." he said, then moved away from the door. She sat down on the mattress, finally noticing that Luke was wearing just boxers and an oversized shirt, his hair a tousled mess. He looked very spooky, all pale and with dark circles so deep they looked like bruises, "I'm really sorry, baby."

"U-hum," Bella nodded, trying and failing to unclasp her strapless bra. Her hands felt useless, "help me."

Happy to be given something to do, Lucas jumped into action, removing her bra and then maneuvering her inside one of his shirts. Then he didn't pull back, hand cupping her face, thumb stroking her cheek.

"Don't be mad at me, please," he said in a small voice, "I know I was a dick, I'm sorry, just... Don't go to sleep mad at me."

Bella let out a groan, pulling back from his hold. It wasn't fair that he was melting her that easily, when she was having a hard time even thinking. She wanted to be mad at him.

The bathroom light was still on, so was the hallway's. Despite that, she could see a big black splotch covering half of Luke's face. Bella frowned, reaching in to touch it and her fingers met his cheek.

He completely misread her touch, turning his head and pressing a kiss to her fingertips, "I'm so sorry, Bella," Lucas sighed and Bella continued to vaguely glare at one side of his face.

"You look really weird right now," she said, causing Luke to frown.

"What?"

"Your face... There's a hole in it," she tried to explain, words slow and Lucas' frown deepened even more.

"Baby, I don't understand you."

"Here," she poked his cheek again, "there's a hole."

"Why are you- Bella, I don't understand you. You're not speaking in English," he said, sitting up straight, suddenly a lot more alarmed, "Bell, did you drink anything-"

"I'm not roofied," Bella said and Lucas' hands were suddenly on her face, fingers touching her all over. It was annoying, to put it mildly, downright violating after such a night. Bella whined, attempting to pull back, but he didn't allow her, his fingers touching her neck, then the back of her head, combing through her hair-

"Ah fuck," he said softly and then pulled back his hand. Although the hole was still very present in the middle of his face, she could clearly see horror start to form behind his eyes.

"Luke-"

"Baby, you hit your head. Why didn't you say you hit your head...?" he said softly, "did anyone see-" he cut himself short as the pressure in her head escalated another notch and suddenly there was running down her face, Luke's giant hand coming to hold her nose.

"What are you doing- lemme go-" she attempted to fight him off, tasting the blood that was gushing out of her nose, "Lucas!"

The light of the bathroom turned off. Or rather, vanished, as yet another inky blotch appeared before her eyes. Bella swallowed in, starting to get terrified.

"Luke..." she grabbed at his shirt, squeezing it, "Luke, something's wrong-"

"You're alright, you're alright, you're gonna be alright," Lucas was chanting, as if he wasn't hearing her at all, which Bella guessed he wasn't. She was speaking in gibberish.

He stretched on the bed, grabbing his phone and holding it to his ear. His next words got drowned out by the ringing in her ears and Bella let out a sob, scared out of her mind.

More black blotches appeared as she hyperventilated and suddenly Luke's face all but vanished and she felt her body go limp, metallic liquid coating her mouth...

And then darkness.

TBC

[infiniteinoblivionn]

1- don’t worry darling, the chair, Hamilton

2- they’re white and hug my feet so nicely

3- I love smoothies

4- a dress. Which isn’t much different from what I usually wear but I’ll do my hair nice and put earrings on and maybe nicer shoes

5- scrambled. Very cooked. I’ll eat it…not scrambled (with a bagel or ramen), as long as the yolk is cooked.

6- I use anything around me as a bookmark

7- black. but I have lots of navy blue and army green too

8- nope

9- hmmm. rain came calm me down, but it also excites me. same with the smell

10- I’m a huge fan of lyrics

11- I wear contacts sadly (but only in one eye cuz my other eye is too far gone for contacts)

12- i love their loyalty and humor and bravery and fashion sense

13- write in pen, draw with pencil

14- hp world lol idk

15- no. I cant keep any plants alive

16- I wish I had a favorite hoodie. I run hot so I usually don’t wear long sleeves/jackets. But I do wish I had a really comfy oversized hoodie I could wear

17- fanx tickets

18- hmmmm. I can’t think of any rn that I’d like to experience but I do have many I’d like to observe as like a ghost lol

19- belle. easily.

20- good at no math

21- man idk the words exactly but I love 1800/1900s art. The paintings of people and landscapes. I love oil paintings

22- iced drinks always.

23- I don’t sing in the shower. But if I did it would be musicals probably

24- my eyesight isn’t great but I consider myself a timid, yet good driver.

25- I currently have 2 piercings!! (Or I guess 4 holes). I have tons of tattoos I wanna get when I have money, and I’d like to get a couple more piercings too.

26- I’ve just started actually cooking. I like it more than baking tbh. I wouldn’t say I’m good at anything specifically but I do make spaghetti a lot

27- I have lots. I have a keychain I bought in nyc, I have a Spotify keychain with the song “peace” by ts, I have foldable scissors, I have a “fuck the patriarchy” keychain, and I can’t remember anything else rn

28- I always thought I was a pretty strong swimmer but I don’t like swimming.

29- loved legos. I didn’t use the sets, I just used the regular blocks. I would build “houses” for my MLPs and I would build flowers and cars and whatever else my child brain thought up.

30- I currently don’t have a “closet”. I just have an armoire which isn’t the same imo😭 and it’s organized in the way that my shirts are hanging up

31- I usually don’t watch mvs so.. probably I Can See You by Taylor swift

32- maybe black or blue or strawberry blonde?

33- earbuds

34- duh, cant everyone 😭😭

35- I had this dolphin I got from my mom and I think her name was crystal and she had a specific place she’d sleep. But now it’s this winky emoji pillow that I “borrowed” from an old friend (his name is choji don’t judge me I don’t even like naruto)

36- uhhh air hockey maybe?

37- I prefer to be alone so I can sing and also I don’t like people watching me

38- I info dump on my friends all the time lol. So idk if they could recite anything but I’ve definitely told them lots about key points/dramatic moments

39- hanging out with my sisters

40- idk trees really but I like the white bark ones and weeping willows and pines

41- plain kind

42- lots of games. Rn my fav is Ludo Club

43- do people shower with the lights off?!?!?!

44- nerve use it unless it’s in my car and then I’ll use it for soda or smth

45- usually

46- uhhh bodycandy.Com if that counts

47- I hate walking. Much rather bike or scooter or anything

48- I like these one..floral? plates and the white bowls

49- listen to music and dramatically walk in the rain. or just watch it

50- very cold. lots of blankets.

50 Questions Just Because

What are three shows in your watchlist that you’ve been meaning to get to?

Describe your favorite pair of socks

Do you like smoothies?

What do you wear when you have to dress nicely?

How do you like your eggs?

What do you use to keep your place when you’re reading a book?

What color dominates your closet?

Do you collect anything? If so, what?

What sounds or scents calm you down?

What’s your favorite kind of uquiz question? (Lyric, color, aesthetic, etc)

Do you wear glasses or contacts?

What’s something about your best friend that you love?

Do you prefer to write in pen or pencil?

What are some places where you feel most at home?

Do you have any houseplants? Do any of them have names?

Describe your favorite hoodie. How long have you had it? What makes it unique?

What’s the last thing you ordered online?

What’s one historical event that you would have liked to have witnessed?

What’s your favorite Halloween costume from when you were a kid?

What kind of math are you best at?

What’s your favorite period in art history, your favorite famous work and/or your favorite style of art? If you don’t know any that’s ok!

Iced or hot drinks?

Which songs do you like to sing in the shower?

Are you a good driver?

Do you have any piercings or tattoos? Are there any that you want?

Can you cook or bake? If so, what are some of your specialties?

Do you have any keychains on your home or car keys? Describe them!

Can you swim very well? Do you like swimming?

Did you play with Legos as a kid? What was your favorite set?

Is your closet organized? If so, how?

What’s the last music video you watched?

If you could dye your hair any color, regardless of how you think it would look, what color would you choose?

Headphones or earbuds?

Can you read analog clocks?

Describe your favorite stuffed animal, either now or from when you were a kid.

What’s an arcade or table game (air hockey, ping pong, etc) that you’re really good at?

Do you mind if others are in the kitchen when you’re cooking or baking?

What’s one show you watch or musician you listen to that your friends know nothing about?

What was the best part of your day today?

What’s your favorite kind of tree?

What scent is your deodorant?

Do you have any games on your phone? If so, which one(s) is/are your favorite?

Do you shower with the lights on or off?

What do you do with spare change?

Do you have good handwriting?

What’s the last thing a friend recommended to you that you looked into and actually liked?

Do you like to go on walks?

Do you have a favorite plate or bowl?

What’s your favorite thing to do when it’s raining?

Describe your perfect sleeping conditions

[steele-soulmate]

Princess of Candy Coated Lies, Modern Royalty AU- King Peter Steele & Single Mother OFC, Soulmate AU

Chapter 12

SUMMARY: Single mother Molly Anne Harper does the best she can do, given her circumstances- since she broke up with her ex-boyfriend by sending him to jail, she’s been struggling to be the best mother to twin daughters while working barely minimum waged jobs. But when she meets her soulmate- King Peter Thomas Ratajczyk of Brooklyn- she quickly finds herself falling heads over heels in love with the guarded, battle damaged ruler. Likewise, Peter finds himself with a family of a women and two little girls who call him daddy. But what happens when their father gets out from behind bars and starts to cause mayhem?

A Soulmate AU where you never know what the first words your soulmate says to you until they say it

CHAPTER WARNINGS: none applicable

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHORESS: This fic is dedicated to SkullWoggle on AO3 and @rock-a-noodle on Tumblr.

WORD COUNT: 1158

I frowned as I looked at the printed packets that the king had made up for me- one for Saint Christopher’s Academy, one for Theodore Day School and one for Saint Claire’s Academy for Young Ladies. I glanced out the window that overlooked the backyard and smiled at the sight of Aria and Evie giggling as they gave chase to the falling leaves.

I looked at Theodore Day School’s dress code, listed on the fourth page. My nose wrinkled up at the ugly uniform that a boy and a girl were pictured modeling- a pair of pants and a pleated skirt- both in a dirty black- a yellow shirt with green buttons marching up the front, a yellow jacket and a green tie. Clunky brown shoes and itchy red socks completed the look.

“No, no and no…” I muttered, glancing over the rule rubrik on the next page that listed the rules.

No talking in the hallway in between classes allowed

No makeup allowed on students or faculty

All students must purchase school issued lunches- no exception

“NOPE.” I drew a messy red X over the front of the packet, half wondering why the king would even want to send the girls to such a prison.

I sighed, glancing up at the clock and taking in the time- 12:19- and I smiled at the idea of the four of us out on our first family date day in a short while. The king would take us to the local Home Depot, where we would pick out paint colors for the girls’ bedrooms and grab some cardboard packing boxes before going out for lunch. He had sent me a text a few minutes ago, telling me that we were having burgers and asked me what the three of us would have. I had told him simple cheeseburgers and fries all around. I had received a thumbs up emoji in response, and I had returned to reading up on the schools.

A little while later, I looked up with a smile as I felt the vibrations of the garage door opening below me, signaling the return of the Ratajczyk family patriarch. For the hundredth time, I wondered if he would let me transition from Miss Molly Anne Harper into Mrs. Molly Anne Ratajczyk.

I certainly hope so, I thought as I sensed him coming into the house. I tugged playfully at the line that tethered our hearts together, summoning him to me in his office, located at the back of the house.

“Sweetheart.”

I squeaked at the playfully dark rumble that sounded out from behind me, cowering in place as he crossed over to me, getting down onto his knee to capture my face into his strong hands.

“Why would you want to send the girls to a Nazi academy such as Theodore Day School?” I meeped nervously, shutting my eyes as I felt him smiling at me.

“Sweetheart, can you look at me, please?” I opened my eyes as his gentle ask, being met by his handsome face. “There we are now- hello beautiful soulmate of mine.”

“Hello your majesty,” I meeped out nervously, watching as he took the scribbled over packet from the trash and looked it over, the expression on his face ugly.

“Jesus fuck, I’m so sorry sweetheart,” he apologized meekly, his thumb rubbing a circle into my jawbone. “I was looking online last night at schools in the general neighborhood, and Theodore Day School was where my dad went. I guess this explains so much.”

“You know you could’ve always asked me what parameters I have for where the twins go for school, don’t you?” I didn’t mean to sound like I was scolding him. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know.”

“And you don’t have to do this alone,” he reminded me, chuckling as the girls turned around and stampeded back into the house, shouting and giggling the whole way. “Never again. You won’t ever need to be a single parent ever again.”

I was kept from responding as the I heard back door slamming open and the girls spilled inside, both of them flying through the house before finding us- me in his desk chair and the king on his knee before me.

“Daddy! You’re home!” Aria cheered happily before latching around him in a death grip, her younger twins following suit.

“Hello girls!” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around the both of them with an affectionate smile on his face. “Sweetheart, I called ahead to Tenny’s Burgers and placed an order- because I’m such a large man, I oftentimes eat a large amount of food, as I’m certain you know already.”

“Sounds good,” I chuckled. “When will you all be ready to go on out?”

“Can you three please give me twenty minutes to change from my monkey suit into something much more comfortable to go run errands in?” he asked, pressing kisses to our foreheads.

“I guess so…” Aria whined playfully, giggling at the expression on her father’s face. “I’m just kidding, daddy!”

“Tease,” he snarled, moving us off of him and stomping upstairs to get ready.

When he came back downstairs once more, he was wearing a long sleeved dark green t-shirt, black jeans and his “badass stomping boots” as affectionately dubbed by Aria.

“Alright, we ready now?” he asked, chuckling at Aria’s overexuberant cheers and Evie’s excited squeals. “Alright- I’ll get the car out of the garage and you three come downstairs and join me whenever, alright?”

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE It only costs $3!!!

PETER STEELE TAGLIST

@rock-a-noodle

@elianafilthyrose

@ch3rry-c01a

@rockstarslutt

@angelxfuckk

[eepy-pleepy]

“Look up at me?”

Dean lifted his face but kept his eyes on his phone, still tapping. Charlie leaned in and dotted over another one of his freckles in blue. The kitchen table beside them was covered in brushes, wipes, Q-tips, and little pots of brightly colored face paint, in rainbow colors.

“I can tell you’re nervous,” Charlie said offhandedly, laser-focused and very close to Dean’s face, her pinky braced against his cheek.

“No you can’t. Why would I be nervous?”

“You always play Crossy Road when you’re nervous.”

“I always play Crossy Road when I’m bored. Seriously, how long is this going to take?”

“It’s your fault you have so many freckles.”

“Don’t pretend you’re not bullshitting new ones everywhere.”

Charlie poked him in the middle of the forehead with the butt of her brush. He pinched her side and she yelped, jerking sideways. The lid to the blue paint clattered onto the linoleum floor.

“Pick that up, ungrateful knave!”

“I can’t, I’m paralyzed by nerves,” Dean said, leaning back and setting one ankle on his knee. He turned a sunny grin up at her. Charlie cooed and grabbed one of his cheeks like a doting grandparent and Dean almost tipped his chair over trying to yank back.

“Don't smear the paint!”

Smug, Charlie exchanged the blue paint for purple. “Nope! This is the good stuff. You’re gonna have to work to get it off.”

Dean blinked up at her in horror.

“Jesus. Why did I agree to let you do this.”

“Because you look fucking adorable with rainbow freckles,” she said, and handed him the small mirror on the tabletop. He stared, then brought the mirror in closer and rubbed at his cheek. The rainbow colors didn’t budge.

“Oh no.”

Someone started hammering on the front door of the apartment and Charlie bellowed IT’S OPEN over her shoulder. Dean leaned away from her, protesting the noise with a loud, annoyed yowling. She rolled her eyes and pulled him forward by the chin.

“Shut up. One more color.”

“Shoulda just gone full Pride Braveheart, woulda been faster.”

“I told you, but you wanted ‘subtle’.”

“There’s always next year!” Sam said, poking their head around the kitchen doorway. They stepped in with Eileen and Dorothy in tow and Dean spluttered, pushing Charlie aside so he could sit forward.

“What’s with the heels, Sam, you’re already a tree!”

Sam was indeed wearing boots with three-inch heels. They were also wearing heart-shaped glasses, dangly earrings that almost touched their shoulders, metallic paint on their nails, and a loose, half-sheer top covered in constellations. Their cross-body bag strap had several pins on it, the largest of which said THEY/THEM above a small enamel nonbinary flag.

“You won’t be complaining when I’m an easy landmark in a sea of people, dipshit.”

Dot bent down to lay a smacking kiss on the side of Dean’s head. “Happy first Pride, Dee! I come bearing gifts.”

She swept a spot clear on the kitchen table and upended a small paper bag. A collection of pins clattered onto the wood.

“For Eileen,” Dot said, holding up an enamel pin of the ASL sign “I Love You”. Eileen beamed and pinned it to her jacket, along with her SHE/HER button and pansexual flag. Charlie helped to face and sort the pins, squealing when she discovered the Live Long and Prosper in the colors of the lesbian flag. She squished Dot in a side-hug and kissed her on the cheek.

“For Sam,” Dot said, handing up a little Sasquatch to an answering eye roll, “aaand Deanie Bean.”

Dean held out his hand to accept the last pins. One was a HE/HIM pronoun button, then a small enamel bisexual flag, then a pair of cowboy boots that said “PAGING DR SEXY, STAT”.

“Awesome,” he said, then grunted when Charlie plopped down on his lap. She took the pronoun pin and started fastening it to Dean’s Led Zeppelin shirt, which they’d altered into a sleeveless boatneck via some clever ripping.

“You don’t have to wear them all if you don’t want to,” she said quietly, tugging Dean’s shirt lopsided so the top of Dean’s flaming pentagram tattoo showed.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Charlie shrugged. “You just went a little green when you saw the flag.”

“Blame the freckles,” Dean grumbled, and Charlie kissed his forehead before bouncing to her feet.

“Alright, queers, wheels up, let’s rock ’n’ roll!”

“Who’s got sunscreen?” Dot called out, rifling through her tote bag as the group started migrating towards the front door.

“There’s some in the car. Pocket check!”

Everyone tapped chest, hips and butt and then threw a sassy snap in the air, everyone except Dean, who was busy pinning the bi flag to his shirt. Charlie patiently held the door for him, smiling like a proud mom.

“There,” he said, pulling the shirt lopsided again. Charlie slapped his ass as she pulled the door shut behind them.

“Gonna have to keep an eye on you, lookin like such a snack.”

Dean threw her a cheeky wink. Charlie cackled, looping their arms together as they caught up with the group. She whooped and threw devil horns in the air with her free hand.

“Pride’s not gonna know WHAT hit it this year!”

🌈

A fuckin’ heatwave, as it turns out.

Dean was too hot, and not in the Bruno Mars kind of way. Well, not just that way.

The heat was making him grumpy.

“How was your first Pride, Dean? Oh, fine, I got heatstroke and died. Music was good, though.”

“Oh my god. Go get another beer and stop whining,” Sam said.

“I spent my last buck on this itchy feather boa.”

“Dean.”

Dean made his best puppy-dog eyes up at Sam until they rolled their eyes and pulled a ten from their bag. Dean beamed and scrunched his shoulders.

“Thanks mom!” He turned and cupped his hands around his mouth. “OI! Charlie! Dot! Want anything?”

Dancing under some water misters, they raised their cups and shook their heads, tapping Eileen on the shoulder. She turned and Dean signed more drink?? and waved the ten with his eyebrows raised. She tapped her bottle of spiked lemonade and raised the number 1, nodding. He lifted a thumbs up and she blew him a kiss.

“Sure, I’ll take a beer,” Sam said loudly as Dean shouldered past them.

“Not good for trees. It’ll wilt your foliage. I’ll bring you a nice hose water.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

Dean was grinning and tapping the folded ten-dollar bill against his hand, eyes on the nearest drinks tent, when something very large and very rainbow tumbled out of the crowd and knocked into his side, shoving him into a small group of people wearing a lot of leather. He hit the pavement with a surprised oof.

“Sorry!”

A hand reached down to him. Dean squinted up at the stranger’s silhouette haloed by the blinding sun; a man, with… two very large wings.

“Did I fucking die?”

The hand closed around his wrist and pulled.

“I didn’t hit you that h—“

The man’s voice trailed away as Dean stood up and met his eyes.

Dean stared.

🌈

The girls pushed their way back through the sea of people to where Sam was standing, bumping into the arm they had raised over the crowd.

“What’s up? Did you spot someone famous?” Charlie said, pushing up on her tiptoes to try to see over the crowd. Her red hair was beaded with little pearls of water from the misters, sticking to her face.

“No, get this,” Sam said, lowering their phone and tapping the screen. Chewing on a grin, they turned it to show Charlie.

She grabbed the phone.

“Shut up. No way.“

🌈

He was tall, almost as tall as Dean, with messy dark hair and big blue eyes, a strong stubbled jaw and a mouth that made Dean think strawberry marshmallow. The very tanned, very smooth skin of his chest was on full display, showing off a wordy tattoo on his left side, just under his ribs.

The only thing he wore above the waist was a pair of great big, rainbow-feathered wings. Like proper enormous, angel-of-the-lord sized wings.

Dean shut his hanging jaw with a click.

“Are you alright?” The man asked, his voice as low and gritty as the pavement that had caught Dean’s fall. Dean dusted off his hands.

“Uh, depends. Are you real?” He leaned back and tapped one of the leather clique chicks on the shoulder. “Hey, sorry. Can you see him too?”

“What, the gay angel? Yeah.”

Dean held out his arms in a tah-dah sort of gesture. “Hallelujah.”

The man’s eyes caught on one of Dean’s hands.

“You’re bleeding.”

Dean looked down. The stinging skin of his palm was, indeed, starting to bleed.

“Ah, it’s nothing,” he said, blotting it on his black shirt. He watched the blood start to well up again. Angel guy came closer, his fingers grazing the back of his hand like he wanted to cradle it but didn’t want to come across as too familiar. The hesitant brush was almost more intimate than if he had just taken his hand. An electric thrill ran up Dean’s spine and he tensed to prevent a visible shiver.

“I’m very sorry. I knew the wings were a bad idea,” the man said.

“You kidding? It’s the most badass shit I’ve seen all day. Did you build them yourself?”

“My brother did. His are pink, yellow, and blue.”

“There’s more of you?”

“Just us,” he said. “Here, at least.”

Dean tipped his chin up a fraction. He clapped the man’s shoulder amicably.

“Us black sheep are cuter anyway,” he said, and reveled in the small smile he got in return. “I’m Dean.”

“Hello, Dean,” the man said, taking Dean’s proffered hand and shaking it. “Castiel.”

“Wow. Props, man. Never heard that one before.”

“You’re not religious?”

“What?”

“It’s the name of an angel.”

“Oh. Is that why…?” Dean asked, gesturing to the wings. Castiel nodded.

“My siblings and I are all named for angels. Gabriel thought these would be fitting. And adequately blasphemous."

Dean grinned.

🌈

“Who do you work for?”

Sam jumped and Charlie yelped at the sudden accusatory voice behind them. The group turned to find a man glaring daggers, hands on his hips.

Above his head stretched a pair of pink, yellow, and blue wings.

“What’s with the sneaky pictures of my friend over there, huh? What are you, P.I.s?”

“Nothing like that!” Charlie said, holding out a placating hand. “That man in the black shirt over there is their brother!”

The winged man looked up at Sam, who was nodding vigorously, and immediately adopted a less intimidating stance.

“Ah. Sibling blackmail, I respect it. Whatcha got?” He said, and moved in with eagerly wiggling fingers.

🌈

“The freckles are a nice touch.”

Dean snorted. “Sure. Looks like I contracted a bad case of the gay.”

Castiel laughed, throwing his head back. His dark hair shone like a rich red wine where it caught the sunlight.

“Condolences,” he said. "Did you know, some people believe they're angel kisses?"

"What?"

"Freckles."

A sly smile grew on Dean's face. "You tryina take credit for something, angel?"

His smile only got bigger the pinker Cas' cheeks got.

"Of course not, Dean. Just making small talk."

They stood in line together at the drinks tent, caught between the baking pavement and the punishing sun. Dean grimaced and pulled his bi pride feather boa away from his neck, arranging it like a sash so it didn’t touch as much skin.

“God. Don’t those things itch?”

“No. They’re very hot, though,” Castiel said, pulling the wings away from his back to let the breeze through. Dean eyed the curve of his spine in the little alcove he’d created – the way his skin shone with sweat, the outlines of his phone and his wallet against the swell of his, uh. Castiel started to turn and Dean quickly averted his gaze.

“How’s your hand?”

Dean lifted it between them. It was still trying, sluggishly, to bleed.

“I’ll see if I can get some ice and napkins,” Castiel said.

“It’s fine, man, really.”

“To you.”

“Cas.”

“What can I get you two?”

They looked up to find that they were next in line to order. Dean started to open his mouth to correct the person but stopped when Cas touched his hand.

“I got it. What do you want?”

“You don’t—“

“Dean.”

“Fine.” He’d just sneak the ten into Castiel’s pocket later.

He gave his order and stood off to the side, holding his drinks while he watched Cas pay for them, asking for extra ice and napkins. Dean rolled one cold, wet beer bottle against the side of his neck, eyes on Cas’ slender fingers as he tucked his wallet back into his pocket. The motion pulled the waistband of his jeans lower over his hipbones and Dean had to look away or risk accidentally boiling the beer he held against his skin.

“Here, over here.”

Cas led them past the drinks tent and up onto the grass, finding a relatively uncrowded shady spot under a large tree. He set his drinks on the ground and gestured for Dean to give him his hand.

Dean hissed when the ice hit his palm.

“Sorry.”

“Dude, quit apologizing.”

There was a flash of blue when Cas’ eyes flicked to look up at him. He patted one of the napkins gently against Dean’s raw skin.

“Thank you,” Cas said.

“…Weird track switch, but sure?"

“For letting me help,” Cas clarified. He gave a wry smile. “Despite protest.”

Something akin to panic fluttered like a single trapped moth behind Dean’s ribs. Shit, was this goodbye? Why did this sound like goodbye? This couldn’t be all there was.

“It, uh… it ain’t all better yet,” he said. Cas’ brow furrowed.

“What?”

Dean’s heart was hammering. Risk it? Risk it?

God, yeah.

“You didn’t kiss it.”

Cas searched his eyes. Dean wondered if his own pulse was visible slamming against his neck.

Slowly, Cas lifted Dean's hand between them. He touched his lips to Dean’s palm, over the napkin. Dean swallowed.

“Better?”

Dean shook his head. God, he was going to rupture several veins the way his heart was going, but something – maybe everything – about this guy made him want to throw caution to the winds. He took a step closer. He turned his hand in Cas’ lax grip so his fingers brushed the strong line of his jaw.

Cas didn’t stop him. He leaned in.

Dean closed his eyes and kissed him.

“WOO!”

“YEEOW!“

They leapt apart, almost spilling the drinks by their feet.

“Jesus!”

Sam, Charlie, Dot, and Eileen were standing at the curb by the drinks tent, whooping and hollering along with a man wearing a set of pink, yellow, and blue wings. Gabriel leaned back to check Sam’s raised phone screen, then cackled and high-fived them.

“Don’t worry guys, we got it!” Gabriel called, throwing them a thumbs-up while Sam gleefully showed the other three the footage. Dean looked over at Cas like he was afraid Cas might try to deck him. He found Cas watching him in much the same way.

“Do you know those people?” Cas said.

“Unfortunately. The skyscraper? That’s my sibling. The gals were the ones who talked me into attending. I don’t know how they found your brother.”

“Trust me. Gabriel found them.”

“Awesome.”

The group was coming in to join them under the tree, making ridiculous cooing noises.

“You’re all horrible,” Dean said, and swiped the drink he’d ordered for Eileen before she could grab it. She pouted at him. He narrowed his eyes and mouthed traitor, but gave it over anyway. She stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, then discreetly flicked her eyes in Cas’ direction and signed he is smokin’ so only Dean could see it. Dean shrugged in the universal sign can you blame me? and she grinned.

“So when’s the big daaay?” Gabriel sing-songed, looping his arm through Cas’. Cas shoved him off.

“It’s a wonder I make any friends with you around.”

Gabriel just laughed and pinched his sides, making him hunch over defensively, which brought his head low enough for Gabriel to pull him into a noogie.

“Oooo looked like a little bit more than friends, little bro!”

“Gabe!”

“I’m so proud of you!“ Charlie said, swinging a punch at Dean’s arm. “Way to just go for it!”

“Charlie, ow?”

“Our little gaybie, growing up so fast.” She wiped away a false tear. Dean rolled his eyes and pulled his feather boa from his shoulder, winding it in loose coils around Charlie’s neck and lower face. She laughed, spluttering through the feathers.

He jumped when he realized Gabriel was standing right at his shoulder.

“Shit. How do you do that with those on?” Dean said, looking up at the wings. Gabriel just narrowed his eyes at him, singular in his focus, like he was reading the fine print of his soul through the back of his retinas. His gaze shifted to consider the middle of his face.

Dean hissed when Gabe suddenly gave him a cheerful clap on the arm. It was right on the same spot Charlie had punched.

“Damn it,” Dean muttered, rubbing his arm.

“Cute freckles, Prince Charming.”

“Thanks.”

Apparently satisfied, Gabe turned away, almost knocking Dean over with one of his wings. “Seriously melting my balls off out here, where’s the nearest ice cream tent?”

“The snowcone van is right over there,” Dot said, pointing. Charlie bounced up and down, grabbing Dot’s arm.

“Ooo! Do you think they have rocket pops?”

“Gangway!” Gabriel declared, leading the charge back towards the thick of the crowd milling on the street. Charlie and Dot followed in his feathery wake.

“Hey, um,” Sam said, still hovering nearby. “I can delete that video. I don’t mean anything by it. Your business is your business.”

“Since when?” Dean said. He felt feathers brush his arm and glanced over.

Cas met his eyes, his gaze a calm, steady blue. Dean’s stomach did a little pirouette.

“Might be nice to remember. Look back on someday,” Cas said. Dean raised his eyebrows.

“You goin’ somewhere?”

In his periphery, Sam and Eileen started to sidle away. Dean hooked Cas’ pinky with his own, loose.

“I wasn’t going to presume anything,” Cas said. Dean’s fingers crept further, capturing Cas’ ring finger along with his pinky.

“Yeah I probably shouldn’t, either.”

Cas looked down, threading their fingers together properly. Their palms settled against each other. When he raised his eyes, it was tentative, almost shy.

Dean couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this giddy. He swung their joined hands between them.

“Hey. Did it hurt?” He said.

Cas squinted at him. “What?”

“When you fell from heaven.”

Dean cackled when Cas rolled his eyes in a dramatic full-body gesture and shoved him over onto the grass.

Feathers and Freckles on Ao3

❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

Tag list (message me to be added or removed!)

@one-more-offbeat-anthem @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie @yourspecialeyes @sleepycas @castiel @wormstacheangel @meg3point0

[thatonewriter15]

It's your birthday, and we're the ones getting the gift [of a new part of this incredible series]!

Emily's concern for the reader in the hospital. Those two make my heart soft. =']

A ✨forehead kiss✨

Beau's guilt (and thanking her for trying to take care of Emily). </3 I believe I mentioned this before, but I so appreciate how level-headed and understanding the reader is.

Beau tucking Emily in, and Emily allowing it. Dang, that was cute. ='] And so believable.

Emily nudging Beau about the reader and then full-on dropping the bomb with:

“If you love her, you should really just tell her,” she said.

AHHHHHH. <3

“I have two working eyes, Dad"

…was also such a winner.

And Emily explicitly giving her blessing for her dad to start a new relationship was so mature and sweet and encouraging.

“Special Delivery,” said Beau. He wore a smile to go along with his familiar beige jacket, as well as a takeout bag from your favorite breakfast café, and a small bouquet of flowers.

Took my feet right out from under me. =']

“I asked Denise if I could give you a police escort home,” Beau said, his eyes dancing. “Is that all right with you?”

Ya had me swooning so bad. xD

I love that she painted her view from when she first entered Montana. I can't paint for shit, but if I move somewhere again, I am keeping this idea in my back pocket. Maybe a framed photo or a commission from an actual artist…

The reader apologzing for failing to get Buck to leave Emily alone. </3

“Stop that,” you said. You grabbed the front of his shirt. “How many times do I have to say it’s not your fault before you get it in your stubborn head?”

Girl, tell him! (This also put Dean in my head so quick…)

“Well, then I think it’s only fair you help me break it in”...

Him checking in before anything major happened, making sure she was okay. Love. Always love.

And the "Yes, ma'am"? Love. Always love. xD

...Your fingers starting to rake through his hair and across his scalp. It made a shiver run down his spine. He wondered what it would take to have your nails scraping down his back.

oh fuck

“Please,” you whimpered. “It’s uh…been a long time.” He nodded, glancing up at you. “Yeah, for me too.”

The vulnerability and intimacy of those statements was beautiful.

Him getting so worked up just from her hand. I couldn't feel my legs. LMAO.

"...And I trust you,” you said. Beau had a feeling that last part meant a lot of things.

EEEEEEEEE. <3

That had been filtering in and out of his head all night and day. He couldn’t deny what that familiar swell of his heart meant every time he looked too deep into your eyes. He just wondered if it was too fast, too soon to say those words.

Huzzah! He admitted it. <3

So in lieu of those words, he decided to show you.

help

“Were you waiting the whole time so you could say that?” you asked. “Nope. That was fresh. And I’m not ashamed to say, pretty proud of it,” he rejoined.

Incredible. xD

Feelings were felt and desires were quenched, and I am very satisfied!

Take Me Home - Part 8

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader 

Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you’ve both got a past you’re running from. 

AN: I think you guys are gonna like this chapter. 😘 (Or at least I hope so.)

Song Inspo: “Take Me Home (Country Roads)” by John Denver, and “Fooled Around and Fell in Love” by Elvin Bishop

Word Count: 4.9K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Fluff, hurt/comfort, and smut, of course. (Finally.)

❤️ Series Masterlist

Part 8: Take Me Home

“You sure you don’t need anything else, hun?” Denise asked you, for the third time.

She sat beside your hospital bed and rubbed your arm. You covered her hand with yours, careful not to tug the IV line taped to the top of your hand.

“I’m fine. It’s okay,” you replied. Your aunt was fighting tears in her red-rimmed eyes, but if she started crying, then you would start crying all over again. You gave her a small smile and grabbed your cup of water instead.

Now that you were getting fluids and electrolytes pumped into you (and you’d had a big turkey and cheese sandwich), you were starting to feel better. Emily had been checked out here in the Emergency Department as well, but she had also been discharged just a few minutes ago.

She came to say goodbye to you over in your curtained off room. She was reluctant to leave you here, but you hugged her close and fought the tears in your eyes. Beau and Carla were there too, both waiting for their daughter and smiling at the scene. 

“Time for you to get some rest,” you told her with a smile.

“Are they going to keep you here all night?” she asked, after pulling away from your arms. She sniffled too, wiping at her face.

“Probably not,” you said. “I think they’re just being extra.”

“Not if you hit your head hard enough,” Denise remarked. Her gaze was pointedly chiding.

The doctor thought the tenderness on the back of your head was just bruising. You didn’t seem to have a concussion. She mostly wanted to keep you because you were dehydrated, more so than Emily. That, combined with the minor head trauma, meant you were a bit too out of it for the doctor’s liking. She wanted to keep you on the IV for a while longer, as well as monitor the severity of your head injury.

You sighed. All you wanted to do was go home and take a shower, then fall face first in your bed…

Well, okay, maybe not face first. You were a bit bruised up. The nurse had also applied a salve on your wrists for the tape and rope burns.

“Well, I hope you feel better,” said Emily. You gave her one last smile, squeezing her hand. You guided her off to join her mom in the hallway.

Meanwhile, Beau approached your bed. Denise wore a certain smile, but she backed out to give you two some privacy.

You smiled up at Beau, who touched your bruised cheek tenderly. In his eyes, you saw pain, but also deeper emotions shining there. He leaned down and pressed a warm kiss to your forehead. You closed your eyes and savored the feeling.

“I’m sorry,” he said, after he pulled away. “I need to go and get Emily settled at home, but I’ll come see you soon as I can.”

You shook your head. “It's okay, don’t worry.”

“Thank you,” he said. His gaze became heavier, weighted with guilt. “For trying to take care of her through all this. I know I couldn’t. I failed both of you, and I’m so sorry.”

You grabbed his hand with both of yours. Your eyes burned with emotion, but you looked up at him firmly.

“This isn’t on you,” you said. “I’m sure you did your best. She knows it, and I do too. And we’re okay.”

 Beau let out a long breath. You knew he didn’t totally believe you, but he nodded and laid a kiss on the back of your hand.

“I’ll be back for you,” he said. You smiled through your tears.

“Okay. I’m counting on that.”

That night, Beau tucked Emily into bed like she was still a little girl. She humored him, smiling in amusement while he smoothed the warm quilt over her, pulled up to her shoulders. He bent down and kissed her forehead, just like he used to do every night after story time.

“If you need anything, and I mean anything, I’ll be right down the hall,” he said. At this moment, Carla was setting up one of the two guest rooms for him. If nothing else, Avery had spared no expense on this country-style house.

“Have you checked on her yet?” Emily asked.

Beau knew she meant you. He sighed, shaking his head. He’d been preoccupied with making sure Emily got home safe, but it didn’t mean he’d forgotten about you. He just didn’t want to leave his daughter tonight.

“She tried to play it off, but he hit her pretty hard,” Emily said. She looked concerned about you, and Beau was too. 

He breathed through that information with a tense nod. He was now actually grateful for Sunny Barnes, and the choice she made up on that mountainside in the woods.

Just then, his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was a text from Denise:

They’re keeping her overnight at the hospital.

Before Beau’s worry could start climbing, another text came in.

Nothing to worry about. Some of her levels were still low, so they just want to monitor her progress overnight and be sure she’s okay. She’ll probably get discharged in the morning. 

He nodded in understanding (and with a breath of relief).

“Who’s that?” Emily asked.

“It’s Denise, says they’re gonna have to stay overnight. But it’s nothing serious,” he supplied. Then he texted back.

OK, good… I’ll come by the hospital in the morning, if that’s all right.

Denise soon replied.

Of course it is. See you tomorrow, Sheriff!

Beau pocketed his phone, just to spy his daughter’s sly smile. He felt his face warming with embarrassment.

“What?” he asked. Emily sighed and freed her arms, crossing them over the quilt.

“If you love her, you should really just tell her,” she said.

To say that shocked Beau would be an understatement. He gave a chuckle of disbelief.

“You playing matchmaker for me already?” he said.

“I have two working eyes, Dad,” she wryly replied. Beau’s lips quirked upwards, but his gaze fell with uncertainty. 

“It’s okay,” Emily said, laying a hand on his arm. “I want you to be happy, even if it’s not with Mom.”

He smiled. Sometimes she could be just like her mom, he reflected. In a good way.

“You’re really okay with it?” he asked. Emily raised an incredulous brow at him.

“Yeah, Dad. I like her a lot,” she said. “And not just because she was there for me through this whole thing…”

Beau’s heart began to break again, seeing the trauma in her eyes. He leaned in and gave her a warm, comforting hug. She held him back just as tight, resting her head on his shoulder.

“As long as I’m alive, I’m gonna make sure you’re safe,” he promised. “Even if I gotta follow you to the prom.”

Emily laughed through the beginnings of tears. Even if he did make through on that promise one day, she might not mind so much.

By the morning, the doctor was happier with your vitals and determined that your bruised skull was indeed minor. You were finally given the green light to get discharged from the hospital, and you couldn’t have been any more ready to go home.

Denise was flitting around your hospital room to get your stuff together. If you were honest, she was making you a bit dizzy as you sat on the edge of the bed.

“Okay, I tidied up your apartment a bit when I was getting your clothes and stuff. So you shouldn’t have to do anything when you get home, except get some rest, of course,” she said. She set your little duffel bag full of your dirty clothes from yesterday, your toiletries, and your purse.

You now wore a fresh shirt and some jeans, but despite using baby wipes to try and clean yourself, you still felt dusty and grimy, even in your hair.

“Let’s go then,” you said, about to push yourself up from your hospital bed. Denise stopped you with a hand on your arm.

“Not just yet, honey,” she said. She was texting someone on her phone. You gave her a look of confusion.

“Why? You ordering room service or something?” you joked. Just then, someone’s tall frame stepped into the doorway of your room.

“Special Delivery,” said Beau. He wore a smile to go along with his familiar beige jacket, as well as a takeout bag from your favorite breakfast café, and a small bouquet of flowers.

Your eyes widened in shock, then with tears.

“What…”

“I told you I’d be back,” he teased. “Sorry I’m a little late.”

He swooped in and gave you the flowers first, along with a sweet kiss on the cheek. You sniffled, admiring the pretty reds, oranges, and yellows in the assortment. Your eyes traveled up to his handsome grin.

He bent down beside you to offer his arm. “You ready to go then?”   

You were confused, but you still curled a hand around his arm, letting him help you to your feet.

“I asked Denise if I could give you a police escort home,” Beau said, his eyes dancing. “Is that all right with you?”

Your wide eyes dimmed with understanding and amusement, especially when you looked over at your aunt. She really was devious.

“That’s very all right,” you said.

“Good! I’m gonna head home, but I’ll be checking in on you later,” Denise said.

She kissed your cheek as well, and then she was gone, leaving you still holding onto Beau’s arm. He leaned over and grabbed your duffel bag along with the food. You knew you’d be breaking that open in the car.

He looked down on you with a softer smile.

“Can I finally get you out of here?” he asked.

You smiled back.

“Yeah,” you replied, resting your head on his shoulder. “Please, take me home.”

After getting home to a nice clean apartment (and bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches eaten in the car), Beau set down your things while you went to grab a shower.

You tried to be quick but thorough in washing your hair, along with the rest of yourself.

Beau made sure dishes were put away, trash was taken out, all the little things he could think of, so you wouldn’t have to later. Then he relaxed on the couch and watched some TV while he waited for you.

He noticed that you’d replaced the coffee table with solid wood this time. The pictures had new frames.

He took note of one with your father, who was dressed in his formal uniform, with the white hat and decals that designated him as a firehouse chief. There was another of you with a group of friends. (Michael was missing from that group, Beau noted with satisfaction.) Then there was one of just you and Mary.

And on the wall was a new canvas that didn’t yet have a frame. It was an unsigned painting of a forest of yellow aspen trees, with a single road cutting through them.

“That’s the view I had when I drove into Montana for the first time,” you said. Beau switched off the TV and turned to look at you.

You were leaning on the back of the couch, next to his head. You gave him a smile, before you pushed away to come around and join him.

“You’re getting good, you know,” he said, gesturing at your artwork.

And you smelled nice, he thought, like jasmine soap and whatever shampoo you used. He noted that you’d mostly dried your hair. It was the good kind of messy, falling around your shoulders. You’d also opted for a thin sweater over your jeans. He caught the edge of something lacey peeking out of your collar.

“Thanks,” you said, a little bashful. “I’m trying. I’ve been taking lessons.”

“It shows,” he nodded. He inched closer to you, turning towards you with a bent knee resting on the cushion. You did the same. His arm rested across the back of the couch, beside your head. By now he’d taken off his jacket, so you could almost feel the warmth of his skin near your cheek.

“Anyway, how’s Emily doing?” you asked, touching his knee. “And Carla?”

He nodded with a sigh. “Em’s shaken up, but…she’ll be okay. I think she’s handling it better than her mom, to be honest.”

You could understand that, actually. Not only had Carla lost her husband, but she’d almost lost her daughter in the same night. You didn’t know how you would cope in that situation either.

“She’s a tough kid,” you said of Emily. “But Carla seems strong too.”

“She is,” Beau agreed. “They both are.”

He leaned forward and gently thumbed at the yellowing bruise just under your eye. He sighed.

“Em told me everything that happened,” he said.

You bit your lip. You tried not to let it, but a fresh wave of emotion was rising in your chest, up to your throat.

“I tried to get Buck to let her go,” you said. Your voice trembled, almost choking on your words. “I’m sorry—”

“Hey.” He caressed your cheek. He blinked past the stinging in his own eyes. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. Do you hear me?”

You sniffed as a couple tears made their way down your face. You quickly wiped them away.

“I’m the one who needs you to forgive me,” he said, gently squeezing your arm. “I promised myself I would keep you safe, that I wouldn’t drag you into this mess. And I couldn’t keep my end of the deal.”

“Stop that,” you said. You grabbed the front of his shirt. “How many times do I have to say it’s not your fault before you get it in your stubborn head?”

It came out a bit snappish, but the moment your shining eyes met his, you both seemed to realize where your passions had led you. Just inches away from one another.

“Maybe one more time,” Beau said, in a quieter, but no less heady voice. There was a hint of humor in his eyes. You couldn’t help but smile back.

You released his shirt and instead, took his face in your hands.

“I’m not forgiving you,” you said, “because I don’t blame you. All I wanted is what I’m getting right now. You, right here with me.”

Beau shook his head and let out a sharp breath. Then he finally closed the distance once again, meeting you with a kiss. It wasn’t soft or sweet. It was passionate and claiming, and soon it was devouring. You pulled him in and tangled your fingers in his hair. With a groan, he wrapped his arms around your waist and hauled you into his lap. There you moved to straddle his hips, battling with lips and tongue all the while.

The kiss broke suddenly, letting you both catch your breath for a moment.

“Wanted do that all week,” Beau said, through panting breaths. You laughed a little, soothing your fingers through his hair. You took a comfortable seat in his lap.

“Remember how you helped put my bed together when I moved in?” you asked.

“Sure do. Nearly lost a thumb on that one,” he replied cheekily. You grinned and brushed your thumb along his lower lip.

“Well, then I think it’s only fair you help me break it in,” you said, maybe sounding more confident than you felt.

Beau smiled. Yet he still managed to surprise you; with supportive hands under your thighs, he took you with him when he stood. You yelped in surprise and clung to his shoulders. He laughed and pressed a kiss into your neck, before he carried you into the bedroom.

There he sat you down on the edge of the bed. He lowered and kneeled between your legs, letting you hold him there with his bearded face in your hands again. Your heart was full looking down at him, finding his amusement as well as his desire. It was a beautiful thing, you thought.

His hands slipped under the hem of your sweater and began inching it up. You shivered at the way his hands felt against your bare skin. You helped him pull the sweater over your head, revealing a black silk camisole underneath, edged with lace.

He hummed in appreciation and felt the silk between his fingers.

“Were you planning for this?” he asked.

“I might’ve hoped,” you said with a smile.

You then sighed at the feeling of him leaning in to kiss down your neck, and down your chest. He stopped briefly to get the camisole off, finding your red, lacy bra underneath. That was his other favorite color on you so far. His kisses led him down between your breasts as he unhooked the bra next.

You tugged at the back of his sweater, trying to get it off. He paused in his explorations to help you. By then he got impatient with kneeling. He took you with him by the hips when he straightened, letting his hands feel every exposed curve of you. You sighed against his lips, kissing him again with renewed passion. 

Your hands slid down his shoulders and arms, and over his slightly furry chest, down to his belt between you. You started on the buckle. The click of the metal was like a switch in his brain; he let you get as far as unbuttoning his jeans before he took over for you. After all his days of indecision, he was a bit impatient.

Most of his clothes became a haphazard pile next to most of yours on the floor. You let him guide you back onto the bed, though he was careful in cupping the back of your head when he laid you down. You might not have had a concussion, but you were still bruised and healing, in more ways than one.

Beau had you almost naked underneath him, save for your unhooked bra and panties. For a moment, he had to savor the sight of you, beautiful and laid out for him. But he found himself slowing down for a different reason. He caressed your cheek. 

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I mean, I just brought you home from the hospital—”

You cut him off by hooking a hand behind his neck, and pulling him down for a heated kiss.

“Don’t make me wait anymore, Beau,” you whispered. “I need you.”

He looked down at you with a growing smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

You laughed, and the sound and brightness of it made his smile deepen. He ducked down to burn another path of wet, open-mouthed kisses down the other side of your neck.

You sighed and tilted your head, giving him access. Your hands swept across his shoulders, down the smooth planes of his back.

You hooked a thigh around his hip, bringing him flush against your center. His rising length brushed the dampness in your panties. He moaned against your skin. His kisses became sloppier down to your breasts.

You helped him peel the loose bra from your shoulders. He flung it away to parts unknown, making you giggle. He smirked in response, but soon your amusement turned to moans as his lips found one of your breasts.

His tongue swirled around the hardened bud and scraped gently with his teeth. He also palmed at the other, squeezing gently and rolling a hard nipple under his fingers.

“God, Beau…” Your voice was breathy and desperate, your fingers starting to rake through his hair and across his scalp. It made a shiver run down his spine. He wondered what it would take to have your nails scraping down his back.

You were already panting and squirming against him now, your legs gripping his waist tighter to try and find friction. He grabbed one of your thighs, just to feel the soft flesh under his hand.

“I gotcha, baby,” he said, panting hot breath between your breasts. “Gonna take care of you.”

“Please,” you whimpered. “It’s uh…been a long time.”

He nodded, glancing up at you. “Yeah, for me too.”

“Well, you’re doing great,” you said with a laugh.

He chuckled along with you. “I appreciate the encouragement.”

But this was all the encouragement he needed, he knew, as his fingers probed your wet heat through your underwear. You moaned and pressed yourself against his hand, seeking more. Part of him wanted to tease you, get you even more worked up…

Maybe next time, he thought. Right now, he didn’t have the patience. He pushed off you just long enough to take off your panties, bringing them down your legs and tossing them away in a smooth motion.

His own underwear came next before he lowered back down to you. You welcomed him with a searing kiss. You once again sunk your fingers into his hair and scraped with your nails, eliciting a sound from deep within his throat.

He held himself above you with a forearm above your head. His free hand moved down your body, caressing, squeezing your breast, then your ass.

“Need you to touch me,” you whispered against his lips.

He knew what you meant, but he couldn’t help teasing you a little.

“I am touching you.” He gave your ass another meaningful squeeze, but you just smirked and gave his a smack. It surprised him enough to make him buck against you.

“Ey!” he chuckled.

“Come on, cowboy,” you said. Your hand slipped in between you to find his hard cock resting against your thigh. He groaned and fastened his lips to your neck while your deft fingers explored him, teased him up and down the shaft, and the sensitive, already weeping head.

“Oh, fuck,” he muttered. It had been a while since anyone but his own hand had touched him. Your soft hand felt heavenly as you used the wet beads of precum as lube across his velvety flesh. (And he had a feeling your mouth would be divine.)

But Beau wasn’t about to be outdone.

When you’d nearly brought him to the brink, teasing him with the twists and turns of your hand, he stopped you with a hand over yours and had to catch his breath for a moment. His forehead pressed into your shoulder. You giggled and rubbed his back with your free hand.

“Need a minute?” you teased. “I barely touched you.”

Beau shot you an amused look. “What can I say? You’ve got some talented hands.”

His lips brushed over the red, healing skin on your wrist. He moved further down to nip a biting kiss to the sensitive inside of your arm.

His beard scraped deliciously against your skin there, and then further down, as he laid kisses over your breasts, down your stomach, and finally down between your thighs. Your breathing became more labored the further down he went.

His fingers parted your folds and found your pussy wet and glistening for him. He gathered some of your wetness and brushed your clit, earning a sound of pleasure from you.

He let those sounds spur him on as he discovered what you liked and what you wanted, soon letting his long fingers find their way inside you.

Your hands clamped down on his shoulders as you writhed against him, pleading with his name, your hips beginning to undulate in time with his fingers.

He didn’t stop their motions pulsing inside you; his thumb circled insistently over your clit as well, until he felt your inner walls tighten and quiver around his hand, along with your shaking thighs. He swallowed up your keening cry with a deep kiss.

“You okay, baby?” he asked. He brushed your hair back, and it fanned out against your pillow. You panted heavily, but still managed to smile. You stroked his arm.

“Are you kidding?” you breathed. “Thought I was gonna break your damn hand.”

He smirked. “I considered that myself.”

His amusement only faded when a new realization hit him. “Aw shit. I don’t have a condom.”

He felt like a damn teenager, thinking with his dick and nothing else. Though he also hadn’t wanted to assume anything when he told Denise he would bring you home.

You shook your head and twined your arms around his neck.

“I’m on birth control…and I trust you,” you said.

Beau had a feeling that last part meant a lot of things. His smile grew, looking at you.

“Well, all right,” he said. “We’re in business then.”

“Oh, we’re in business, all right,” you replied. You giggled when he came back down to kiss you. He swept a hand along your cheek, tenderly.

If you love her, you should really just tell her.

That had been filtering in and out of his head all night and day. He couldn’t deny what that familiar swell of his heart meant every time he looked too deep into your eyes. He just wondered if it was too fast, too soon to say those words.

So in lieu of those words, he decided to show you.

He hooked your thighs around his hips and positioned himself at your entrance. After meeting your eyes and getting your breathless nod of approval, he slowly pushed inside you. Already he felt your core flutter around his cock as he brushed your clit. You both were breathing heavy again when he bottomed out with just the right amount of resistance.

“Goddamn,” he muttered. “Feel so fuckin’ good already.”

You nodded in agreement, squeezing his hips with your thighs.

“You rarin’ to go then?” you teased.

Those were his almost exact words to you, not so long ago. He’d been trying to get you to learn how to ride a horse, but he supposed there were…a few similarities here. He grinned down at you, and instead of answering, he shifted his hips, pulling out almost all the way, and pushing back in just as slowly.

A curse fell from your lips as your inner walls accommodated his girth. He gave you slow strokes to begin with, meeting your lips with a heated kiss when he could.

But once he found an angle that had you shuddering underneath him, squeezing him from the inside out, he couldn’t hold back anymore. 

A sheen of sweat broke out against his skin and yours as you moved together. Between moans and skin against skin, whispered encouragements, and playful goading, you felt the moment when he was close.

His movements began to stutter out of rhythm, his grip on your hip becoming almost bruising. You still needed a bit more, though you could practically taste your end; that hot coil was tightening, just not fast enough.

You slipped a hand between you to find your clit. His hand soon replaced yours though, wanting to do it himself. His deft fingers and his hard strokes brushing that sensitive spot inside finally made that coil snap. Warmth blossomed from your core and pulsed around his cock.

It had your pussy clenching on him so tight, he couldn’t help but spill into you with a ragged groan. You gasped, your back arching at the feeling of being filled to the brim.

Afterwards, he relaxed onto his elbow by your head, mindful not to smother you as he caught his breath. You sank back into bed, panting yourself. You managed to reach up and sweep his hair from his eyes, then wiped some of the sweat from his brow. It brought his gaze to meet yours and find your smile.

Beau smiled back. His hand was more soothing along your thigh.

“Well,” he said. “It was a pleasure doing business with you, darlin’.”

You burst out laughing. You covered your face with a hand, and it had his shoulders shaking as well.

He untangled from you and rolled onto his back. You followed him onto your side, closing your sticky thighs. You intended to ask if he wanted to join you for another shower in a bit, but for now, you wanted to savor this moment.

“Were you waiting the whole time so you could say that?” you asked.

“Nope. That was fresh. And I’m not ashamed to say, pretty proud of it,” he rejoined.

“I don’t know…” you said slyly, even as you trailed lazy fingers across his chest. Your nails dragged lightly over his skin, causing a delicious shiver to run through him. “I might need to rethink our future business transactions.”

Beau snorted and shook his head.

“All right. Let’s drop this metaphor,” he said. “I prefer to think of our time as pleasure, not business.”

He clasped your wandering hand against his chest, then raised it to his lips. It made your smile soften. You were at least half in love with this man.

“Yeah,” you agreed.

It’s our time now.

AN: 😘 Finally right?! Let me know what you thought of how they worked things out. 💗

(And thank you all so much for the birthday wishes. You guys are too good to me! 😭💓)

Next time, we have the grand finale...

Next Time:

Beau’s resulting deep breath raised you as well. He nodded, brushing your hair back away from your face. You pushed up enough to look up at him.

He gave you a quirking smile.

“I want this to stick,” he admitted. “I wanna take you on a proper date and make it official.”

You smiled back at him. “I’d like that.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “We’re in agreement.”

But you didn’t realize that anything official would take more time than either of you thought. 

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Series Masterlist

Big Sky Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

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[little-fairy-forest]

could you do a bakugo,Midoryia and Todoroki (all separate) with a really alt s/o ?

like they’re pretty well known on social media (like they’re on everyone’s pinterest boards you know?) they could be in the hero course or in mics music course !!

it’s alright if not !! i never really see alt rep in x reader work so i understand if you aren’t comfy with it :) have a lovely day sweets and remember to eat lots ! xx

🍀 hello dear! Just had lunch so I'm full and happy writing this :)

Boys x alt! reader

Bakugou, Midoriya, Todoroki, gn!reader, fluff

Bakugou

Yep, just from your style this boy likes you already

If your confident in your style- holy shit, this motherfucker started skimping and he didn't realise

I think he thought his 'type' was probably a sporty person or who shares love for heros, which good if you are also

But his s/o just rocking down the street in the cool ripped tights and those boots that challenge his? Yes please~

He feels like he can easily match your style a little bit, like he isn't alt himself but he can throw on an all black number and call it a day

Someone mocks you for how you dress? No, he isn't having it

People take pictures with you? Yeah okay but do not touch his s/o. Nope

He loves helping you develop your Instagram account, he knows a thing or two about photography ( ahem thanks Masaru)

He met you through Jiro, you were a good friend of hers since you took music lessons off her dad which led you to get into the music course

This boy insists on reading your lyrics/ music sheet before you show anyone else

He loves to chill with you, who needs to go to some crowded park when you can both chill listening to your playlist as you play videogames

He loves is when you pick out his outfits, honestly he will wear it, and let everyone know you chose it out

"Yeah, y/n picked out the jacket -of course I look good! Tch they know style dumbass"

Black nails? Black nails

Wants to do your eyeliner for you, but ends up letting you try our different designs on him first :)

Todoroki

He thought you were being "rebellious" so he tried to ask you how to do that to annoy his father

And then he found out you just enjoy this style- yeah he now wants to dye his hair bc fuck it

He normally wears pretty casual bland clothes so when you are given his dads credit card to splurge on yourself you deffintly pick up a few things for Shouto

He decides to listen to your spotify, definitely not his taste in music but he will bare it if it makes you happy :)

Todoroki with ear piercings? Yes, why? Because Endeavor hates them ;)

This boy isn't a huge fan of social media, simply due to him always being in the spotlight since he was very young, but if you want him in a few of your pictures he doesn't mind

^ he is the cutest hype man in the comments though "this is what perfection looks like 💓" "you look so cute :)" and the best one yet- "mine 🖤💍"

He enjoys doing your skin care for you before you both get until bed, just him wiping off your make up and moisturizing your skin makes him warm and fuzzy inside <3

Kaminari thought it was funny since apparently Todoroki in an "alt" style fits his personally better then a rich boy, Shouto doesn't understand but you found it funny

You jokingly called him "my dark prince" when you painted his nails black and he was wearing all black

Shouto loves walking around differnt shops with you as you shop for your style, he doesn't mind being a human coat rack, but in return you owe him a kiss for each item of clothing ;)

Midoriya

I wouldn't say he had an "alt" phase but he did go through a small "emo" phase a few years ago- dark time

He thinks it's cute how different you both are from each other

People have said he now has "scary dog" privileges, (is that was it's called?) When you both go out places

You once customized an All Might figure to match your aesthetic and gave it to him as a gift, it now has a special place on his shelf :)

Bakugou once commented on your style and he got the filthiest look from Deku, yeah Bakugou knows not to say anything anymore...

Izuku thought it would look cute if he got one ear pierced by you from those self piercing piercers, this boy took everything in him to not cry as you pierced his ear...

If your in the hero course and have a hero costume themed like your casual style, this boy is your hype man, seriously. He thinks it's so cool that you made your hero costume based around your self and not your quirk- or even just letting the designers do whatever

This boy tried to do eyeliner once- yeah...he got it in his eye

If you dye your hair he will help you

Has a little notebook on everything about your style and preferences, e.g. music, makeup brands, clothing styles etc.

As you can tell from this monstrosity of a post that I am clearly not Alt myself-

Thank you for reading!

Requests are closed!

-> masterlist

[raindownforme]

Theater Kid

Ted Nivison x reader [she/her used]

It wasn’t odd for me to be left alone in the big open space. Most nights I was there into the late hours when my teachers were too tired to remember I was there. But tonight they’d actually forgotten, so I busied myself by sweeping the giant black stage. The push broom had been left near the side lighting panel, so I chose a few flood lights to turn on to better see the flooring. The lightbulbs hummed to life above me and I went back to take center stage as a starting point. I turned to look towards the house but, as I stared out into the seats, I saw someone standing who hadn’t been there before.

“You turned the fucking floods on.” His voice echoed across the near empty space and I shushed him as quickly as possible. Fucking actors always having to be the loudest.

“Jesus Christ Theodore shut up. Haven’t you ever done this before?”

“No. I don’t stay after school cleaning like a weirdo.”

“Well you’re here. And I’m not a weirdo! It’s a shared space. If anything you should appreciate me.”

I watched as he awkwardly picked up his backpack and walked down the aisles towards me. He stood at the foot of the stage, staring up at me, which wasn’t that much of an angle for him. He was an abnormally tall person, especially for a highschool student. Of course it only added to the strange charismatic spell he held over almost everyone else in our shared department, and I hated it. I hated the way he never talked to me but talked to everyone else. I hated the way he would sit on the desks and the tables in the classroom and the makeup room and on the edge of the stage and when he caught me looking he would give me this wide, crooked smile. I hated how loud his stupid improv club was that he got to lead was because he was the only student good at it. I hated how I spent every day inside the workshop and the prop hallway and the sound booth and the set alley and the lighting booth and he never payed a bit of attention to it. It was everyone else but me. And even knowing how close I’d gotten to being the stage manager, I knew I’d always be one peg under him.

“Did you hear me?”

I blinked myself out of my angry thoughts, trying to catch up with the real world. “I’m sorry?”

“I said you don’t have to call me Theodore. Ted is fine.”

“Oh.” I rolled my shoulders back unsure of what was the appropriate next step. “Well my name is-“

“y/n I know.” He cut me off. I stared at him in confusion, simply having assumed he didn’t know who I was. “We have like five classes together. We’ve done every production together since freshman year. You’re the one in charge when I come to set days. I sit across from you in the makeup room during lunch. And I know you do all your homework at the director’s desk.”

I stared at my feet as I felt my face flush. It felt like I couldn’t make words. It didn’t make sense that this guy I thought was a prick for the last three years knew me? But I knew that I liked him knowing me. And that was the worst part; I’d been fine with thinking he didn’t know me and didn’t want to because it gave me a name to whatever this feeling was. And now I don’t know. I looked back towards him, trying to think of anything to say. “You don’t care about tech.”

“I- what?” I couldn’t tell if he was angry or confused, and I wasn’t sure which was worse. Staring at him again I noticed the strange tint to his face, which seemed to be turning pinker by the second. I could see my reflection in his glasses and I realized how awkward of an angle we were at.

I bent down on my knees to meet his eye level. “You don’t care about tech. You’re the guy who’s a lead character and comes to rehearsal just to fuck around when you’re not needed act all high and mighty when really you never do anything.”

He narrowed his eyes, as if thinking, and then slapped his bag down on the stage near my feet. “Give me a fucking broom.”

We spent the next while peacefully sweeping up the stage. At some point I switched to the nail detector (which was really a long stick with a magnet on the end) and began going around the edges and crevices to try and find anything. We crossed paths a couple times, shoulders brushing together or brooms clinking.

Eventually I had passed him just enough that he stopped me in my tracks. He grasped my forearm gently, but I stared at his hand. I didn’t seem to want him to let go. “Here.” He took an AirPod out of his ear and handed it to me.

“Ooooh fancy actor boy has AirPods.”

“Literally shut up and appreciate me.” I smiled as I walked towards the trash can. I didn’t know what was playing, but it seemed like some indie bullshit I probably would have admitted to liking if it wasn’t coming from Th- Ted.

I sighed as I leaned the broom against the wall. “I think we’re done here. I can put away the broom in the morning if you don’t know where it goes.”

“I got it.” I watched as he took the trash can under one arm and the broom to the designated little outcropping in the workshop.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you in here.”

“Eh.” He shrugged and stood up straight to look down at me better. “Freshman year someone smacked me straight across the face with a roller. Worst acne I’ve ever had.”

“Oh. Ouch. Still on the handle?”

“Nope.”

“Wet or dry?”

“Wet. With paint. Fresh paint.”

“Ooh. What color?”

“Forest green.”

“Euch. Nasty.” I chuckled as I rubbed my hands up and down my arms. It wasn’t uncommon for this part of the school to be the coldest, especially surrounded by walls of exclusively concrete and a single garage door, and the seasons still changing as we neared the end of winter. I felt a shiver run through my spine, and Ted looked at me funny.

“Is it cold in here?”

“For some of us.”

“Here.” Ted shrugged off the heavy bomber jacket he had been wearing and draped it over my shoulders. It was warm on the inside, much warmer than I’d been expecting. It almost fit, but I guess his torso and arms were just slightly larger than mine. I looked back to him to say thank you but instead he was staring at me with this dumb look. He was smiling and his head was tilted slightly, and his face was pink again, but darker this time. I felt my face heat up as we stared at each other.

“We should leave.”

He seemed to snap back to reality. “Right. Yeah no right god it’s- what time?” He flicked his wrist out to move his sleeve in order to see his watch. Of course the pretentious bitch wore a stupid watch. “It’s like 6. I guess it’s eating time.”

I nodded and walked back out towards stage left, Turing off all the lights except for our single ghost light that had to sit center stage. It cast a hazy shadow over everything. I watched Ted walk towards center where the lightbulb stood. He started to reach for his bag but I heard the song change in the AirPod. He made eye contact with me as a slow waltzy song moved through my ear. He extended a hand to me and I tentatively reached for it. His hands felt good in mine. They were soft but worn, I and I could clearly feel the lines that ran through his palms and his fingers.

He took one of my hands in his and his other hand placed itself gently on my waist. “Have you ever waltzed before?” His voice was low and raspy, trying to be as quiet as possible.

I whispered back, “no.” He began to shuffle us around, pulling me left and right and pushing away and pulling me. I felt surrounded by the way he smelled and the way he held me gingerly, like a glass figurine. I stared down at my feet as to not step on him, but he took the hand that was holding mine to gently lift my chin up.

“It’ll be easier if you look up at me. I know you can hear the rhythm.” He began to hum the song as we continued to move. The song began a flourish ending as he threw me out in a twirl, then pulling me back in to his arms. I felt him dip me to the ground as the ending came. I let my self dangle, my head up side down, staring at the ground, then gently lifted my face back upwards. Ted was mere centimeters away from me. I could feel his breathing on my neck.

“Ted. I should-“

“Yeah. No no I know. Yeah.” He lifted me up slowly until I was sure I was flat on the floor. I grabbed my backpack, holding the straps.

“Do you want your jacket-?”

“Keep it. I can get it back tomorrow.”

“Today’s Friday.”

“Right. Monday then.”

I nodded and walked towards the door. I could hear his heavier footsteps behind me, gaining quick due to his longer legs. The door clicked shut behind us, and the cool February air rushed through my skin and hair. I watched Ted take a keychain out from the pocket of his back pack. He looked at me and frowned.

“Did you drive or do you have a ride?”

“Oh yeah. No they’ll uh. They’ll be here in a bit.” I dropped my bag and sat on the curb with it on my lap to try and stay warm. Ted’s jacket was lovely but not lovely enough.

I heard Ted drop his bag and watched as he took a seat next to me. He looked over at me. “What? I’m not gonna leave a pretty girl out alone at 7 at night in the winter. Besides my parents probably think I’m at the game anyways.”

Now that he mentioned it, I could hear the sound of cheering and drum line off in the distance.

Did he call me pretty?

We both waited on the curb for probably another 10 minutes before he started talking again. “There’s no one coming is there?”

“Ted-“

“I never see you leave because you always leave last. After anyone who could possible give you a ride has left. You’re one of those kids.”

“I’m sorry one of those kids?”

“No I didn’t-“ he exhaled and closed his eyes. “You don’t have anyone waiting for you. So you just walk.” We were both quiet for a moment, taking in the cold as it burned your skin. Ted stood up and extended a hand to me. “Get in the car.”

“Im sorry what?”

“Get in my fucking car. I’m not going to leave you to get kidnapped on the way home so you’re coming with me to get food.”

“See now this feels like kidnapping.”

“Oh my GOD get in the car.”

I reluctantly climbed into the passenger seat of his car, looking at the very minimal personalization that had been done: a couple stickers on the back window and a glasses case in the center cup holder. I watched as he reversed out of the parking spot, extending his arm against my seat to better turn around. I did my best not to stare, but I wasn’t sure what else to look at. He stopped before going into drive, asking if I didn’t mind McDonald’s even if there was a long line.

“Sure. It’s not like there’s someone waiting on me.”

He frowned at my response, but nonetheless kept on driving. “Well, there’s also a Dairy Queen, Sherri’s, maybe a Taco Bell-“

“Sherri’s.”

He glanced over at me with a confused look. “Really??”

“Come on, you know sitting in a dirty trashy restaurant at night is the total teenage coming of age moment.”

“Yeah but a Sherri’s? The food isn’t even good enough to justify.”

“You only say that because you haven’t tried those loaded hash browns.” I jokingly placed a hand on his shoulder, but I felt him tense at the contact. I retracted my hand and he sighed, moving to turn on his right blinker.

Ted swiveled his head to check for passing cars, but he grinned at me as we made less than a second of eye contact. I turned my head away towards the window next to me, trying to swallow whatever heat was rising towards my cheeks. I watched us pass cars and headlights as we approached the poorly lit parking lot. I jolted as ted’s plastic bumper lightly scraped the ground. He mumbled something under his breath as he pulled into a spot.

“I hate this stupid lot. Always scratch something coming in.” He unbuckled his seat belt and got out quicker than I expected. I went to unbuckle and get out but as I reached for the door handle, Ted opened it for me from the outside.

“Oh.” I stared at him for a second and he grinned at me.

“I know. Such a gentleman. Now get out of the car before I break your heart.” He winked at me, obviously joking, but I still felt my heart drop out of my chest.

“HA.” I pushed him away from me gently, but my fingers burnt at the touch.

I heard Ted shut the door behind me as I walked into the restaurant. There was really no one inside other than a group of kids tucked away in a booth in a far corner. I watched as the hostess approached me, saying I could sit in any table I wanted. I heard Ted walk in behind me and I turned to look at him, but he was staring at the group of kids in the corner.

He sighed and closed his eyes. “Oh shit-“

“HEY. TED!” One of the kids started yelling at him from the booth. The other boys laughed at him as the maybe two or three other girls giggled. I looked between Ted and the boy, who seemed incredibly belligerent or under some sort of influence. He waved his arms in a wide span over his head, as if telling Ted where he was. “NIVISON! COME SIT OVER HERE! COME ON FUCK THE LOSER! GET OVER HERE.”

Ted looked at me, making a prolonged eye contact, then back to the kid. “No thanks! I’ll see you later.”

He linked arms with me and rushed over to the other side of the restaurant, tucking us into a small booth by the window. He said almost nothing, staring just out at the bushes. A waiter came by, dropping off two thick plastic menus.

“Anything to drink?”

Ted mumbled, but I was sure the waiter wasn’t able to hear. “Water for him please. And how much is a vanilla milkshake?”

“$2.50 for a small.”

“A small vanilla milkshake then. Please.” I smiled gently at him, and the waiter seemed to straighten himself a bit, more self assured than he had been two minutes ago.

“Of course. Right away.”

The waiter walked away and Ted stayed quiet. I slid my hand across the table towards him. “Theodore-“

“I’m not friends with Jake. I mean I was when we were younger.” He was looking me now. Well not exactly me, but my extended hand at least. “He joined the football team and some other sorts and we just stopped hanging out because of time. And he does still wear the lettermen’s jacket but....” he dropped his voice and leaned in, I copied and leaned closer to him. “He got cut from the team because he would show up drunk so now he goes to games just to drink under the bleachers and pick up cheerleaders from the other schools. He tells anyone who asks that he got a brain injury and can’t legally practice but still goes for support.”

“Oh my god.” I blinked, my voice still at a whisper. “That’s terrible.”

Ted nodded eyes wide. He looked over my shoulder, tapped my hand, and then sat up. I sat up too, assuming it was the waiter, but stared at how close his hand was to mine.

“Okayyyyy one ice water and one vanilla milkshake.” I moved my line of vision towards the drink set in front of me. It had the standard glass cup and whipped cream topping, but on top were red and pink heart-shaped sprinkles. I stared at it, and Ted must of noticed it as he took my hand firmly in his, lacing our fingers together on top of the table. The waiter stared at it.

“Hey I think we’re ready to order if you don’t mind.” Ted’s voice was louder than I expected as it took command of our whole corner of the restaurant.

“Uh yeah. What can I get you two?”

“You said you wanted the loaded hash browns, right babe?” He turned to me smiling, but I had no idea what he was thinking.

“Y-Yeah. Those are the ones.”

He gave me a giant goofy smile, and turned back to the waiter. “We’ll have two orders of that please. And an extra straw for this milkshake if you don’t mind?”

“Uh yeah. Coming right up.”

The waiter walked away and Ted sighed, relaxing his grip on my hand but not quite releasing it. “Fucking creep.”

“What?”

He looked back at me, confused. “You didn’t notice he was flirting with you? He put heart shaped sprinkles on your milkshakes.”

“I guess he’s not that good at it then.”

We sat in silence as I drank the thick vanilla shake. Ted cleared his throat and looked towards me. Our hands were still together.

“Well what can we talk about together?”

“I don’t know, theater kid shit?”

“Alright.” He though for a second. “Fine. Movie musicals.”

“Oh. Oh my god I hate the greatest showman.”

“No you don’t!”

“Yes I do! PT Barnum had no excuse to be an asshole and the whole thing is just him being an asshole to his family who somehow accepts him again.”

“I think if you have a shitty life you could have the right to be an asshole, and he wasn’t that bad! He loved his wife, and the music is good!”

“Okay some, some of the songs are good, and the whole kiss with the red head was totally not his fault. But just cause you have a shit home life doesn’t mean you can be an ass. I would think it would make you want to be nicer so other people don’t experience the same treatment, you know?”

Ted pauses, seeming to consider, then nods and moves to take a drink from his water.

We spent the next while talking about random topics: stories, tv shows, movies, books, anything. At some point the waiter came back and set the food down without a word. Ted released his hand from mine to grab his fork, and I stared at the place his fingers had been. My hand felt cold and unfamiliar as I set it closer to my plate. I ate slowly, suddenly feeling uncomfortable, but Ted ate quicker than I thought he could.

“You were right these are delicious.”

“I told you, only good thing they have.”

I was probably close to finishing when the waiter came and slapped the receipt on the table. “We close in ten.”

As he walked away Ted chuckled. “It’s Sherri’s. They’re open 24 hours?”

I shook my head, smiling, as I dug around for some cash. I grimaced at the amount I had, realizing I would have barely two dollars left. I looked up, prepared to go broke, but Ted had already gotten up with cash in hand.

I reached out and grabbed on to his t-shirt as he walked towards the register. “Theodore, wait-“

“If I get to be your fake boyfriend I can pay for our fake date.” He smiled and continued walking. I rustled through all the small bills and coins I had. I was still holding them in my hands when he came back and sat down across from me.

“Y/N, i told you-“

“But, tip-“

“I got it. Finish your food.”

We sat in silence for a little longer, and as soon as I was done he stood up, shouldering the backpack I’d brought in with me. He stood next to me, holding out his arm towards me. I giggled as we linked arms and walked to the door. I made eye contact with the creepy waiter and watched as Ted flipped the guy off.

The air was cold as we exited the building. I probably would have shivered again if not for Ted’s jacket still around me. I used my free hand to pull it closed in front of me. We were silent getting into his car, but as he turned his key over to start the engine he looked to me and smiled.

“Thank you for an amazing fake first date.”

I laughed and felt a small heat rise to my cheeks. “You make an excellent fake boyfriend.”

He turned up the music as we pulled out of the parking lot. I could hear him scrape his bumper again, but he didn’t say anything about it this time. “So, how do I take you home?”

“Oh. You don’t have to! I can just take the bus-“

“y/n. It’s late and it’s dark and it’s cold. Please let me take you home.” We were stopped at a red light, and we paused, staring just at each other. Ted’s face was bright red, and I’m sure mine was too. But even when the light turned green, his face was still red, and I’m sure mine still was.

A car behind us held a sustained honk, and Ted jolted out of his stupor and peeled out across the intersection. Of course Ted wasn’t a bad driver. He was a highschool driver, so he drove to look cool half the time. Meaning right now he was driving with one hand at the top of the wheel and the other arm rested against on top of the center console. I made the judgement call to reach over and take his free hand in mine. I did so loosely, allowing him to let go if he wanted to, but if anything he laced his fingers with mine tighter. I looked down at our hands, smiling, then back towards Ted’s face. He was smiling widely, but when he saw me looking he made a stupid attempt of trying to play it off and act like he wasn’t smiling, but I started laughing so he eventually fell into laughter with me. We didn’t talk much on the way to my house other than me giving directions every now and then. He didn’t let go of my hand the whole time, except when he had to put the car in park.

I stared out his window towards the front of my dark building. I knew no one was home, and it was probably pretty cold inside since I usually forget to turn on the heater before leaving for school.

“I guess this is me.” He watched me throw my bag over my shoulder as I stepped out of the car. “Thank you Theodore. For everything.”

“Ted.”

“What?”

“You can call me Ted.”

I smiled at him. “Right. Thank you. Ted.”

I shut his car door and walked up my sidewalk, but I turned when I heard another car door shutting behind me.

“y/n, wait.” Ted was walking towards me, hands shoved in his pockets as the giant man toward over me. “I, uh, I really enjoyed being your fake boyfriend tonight.”

“I enjoyed it too-“

“And I enjoyed sweeping the stage with you. And holding your hand. And dancing with you. And driving you home. And arguing over food. And laughing. And sharing music. And pretty much everything. And I don’t want it to be because I’m your fake boyfriend you happened to be on a fake date with because we happened to be in the same place at the same time.” He sucked in a breath as he took my hand gently. He stared at our fingers and palms pressed together. “I want to do all that stuff because I’m your real boyfriend. I want to dance with you and take you on dates to shitty diners and act all jealous because it’s real.”

I could feel my face burning. “You were jealous?”

He laughed a little bit. “Oh my God, yes, I was jealous, he was flirting!!” I laughed, gripping his hand a little harder, then pulling it downwards. “Ouch! What the-“

I placed a kiss on his cheek, and I watched him short circuit as his whole face turned red. “Theodore, I would like to let you know, I am free tomorrow night for a date if that’s what your asking.”

“OH. Okay! Yeah is 7 okay?”

“7 is perfect.”

“Yes! Yes yes!” He pulled me in for a hug and kissed the top of my head. “Oh my god! Okay. Tomorrow, 7!”

I laughed, still trapped in his arms. “I expect dancing.”

“Oh absolutely.” He pushed me back a bit, smiling as he stared at me. “I have to go home. I have to get ready!”

“For a date in 24 hours?”

“Yes! I have plans to make!” He kissed me on the forehead again and ran back to the car. Hand on the handle, he looked back at me, smiling. “I can’t wait.”

[wlw-multi-fandom-imagines]

Hey, may i ask for a little scenario where Cheryl blossom falls for a new Femreader student who's a pro kick boxer and can kicke asses (but at first sight she doesn't seem like it) when reader intervens on day when Cheryl Veronica and Betty start an argument with some guys from the sport team who are quite violente. Thank you !

Before she signed you up for your first lesson, your mother had very solemnly laid out a few ground rules regarding your year-long campaign start kickboxing.

1.  No hanging out after hours at the gym

You were only 14 at the time, but your mom wasn’t naive and she noticed the intensity in your gaze as you’d pass the gym and the way your face reddened as you stammered out a few words to the older girls standing out front when they asked if you were interested (in kickboxing, of course).  If she was going to pay for lessons, you’d better be focused on your trainer and not securing a hookup for later.

2.  No hiding injuries

You had hated going to the doctor since childhood, and it became apparent early on that you would go to great lengths to avoid doing so.  From denying fevers to the time you had hidden two broken toes for a week, you always made every effort to mend yourself up before revealing anything was wrong.  If you were going to fight, you had to be honest and suck it up enough to see a doctor if you needed to.

3. No fights outside the ring.

That one had been hard to stick to at times.  Though not violent by any means, you were quick-tempered and needed to get a handle on it if you were going to get “punching lessons”.  

You had agreed to all of these rules, to your mother’s subtle surprise, and had been in the gym every afternoon after school since.  And, to her immense relief, you didn’t allow the other women at the gym to distract you.  It was easier than you had initially thought, especially considering most of them were hot-headed and honestly a little too similar to yourself to consider dating.  

Cheryl, on the other hand...Cheryl got you wrapped around her finger within weeks of your arrival to Riverdale.  Your official tour guide to the new school, Betty, had introduced the two of you during your lunch period.  One look at the subtle flex of your muscles beneath the shirt you were wearing was enough to catch her attention, and the game was on.  

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

“Hey, your girl and her little friends are starting a fight.”

You looked up from your phone, frowning in confusion at the unfamiliar person in front of you.  You hadn’t cared to get to know many others at the school once settling in with Cheryl and her friend group, but judging by the sweatshirt, this was clearly the girlfriend of one of the lacrosse players.

“What?”

“Cheryl, Betty, and Veronica are in the parking lot with some of the football-”

You didn’t bother staying to hear the rest, opting instead to zip up your backpack and sling it over your shoulder.  Standing up quickly, you brushed past a few fellow students just arriving in the student lounge and high-tailed it towards the front entrance.

As you neared the doors, you saw a small crowd gathering near the parking spots that were unofficially reserved for the football players (aka: if you parked there and weren’t on the team, your tires were going to be deflated by lunch) and quickened your pace.  

“You seriously don’t have anything better to do than fake an insurance claim against a sophomore?”

Veronica’s voice was the first one that you could make out clearly as you pushed your way through the spectators.  A knot tightened in your stomach as you finally broke into the center of the crowd and spotted her, Betty, and Cherly at a standoff with five douchebags in letterman jackets.  You glanced around the sea of unfamiliar faces, hoping to spot Archie or hell, even Jughead.  

Nope.  You were the only reinforcement so far.

“Look, the little freak clearly came whipping into the parking lot way too fast and smashed into me and I have a few witnesses here that will back me up.”

“As if.  You literally almost ran Jughead and me over the other morning,” Betty pipes up.  

“And for someone always flexing Daddy’s money, you’d think you’d be able to afford to get a little scratch fixed.  Actually, I bet your Daddy would just love to hear all about this and all about that time two summers ago when you-”

“Shut the fuck up, you bitch.”

The Lead Douchebag lunged forward, a sudden surge of anger and panic replacing the smug features that had painted his face before Cheryl began her remark.  Whatever happened two summers ago was clearly something he intended to take to his grave, and she had struck a nerve in the same way that watching him rush her like that struck a nerve with you.

“Oh!”

The crowd reacted to your swift punch with one unified sound of surprise and teenage exhilaration, but the ringing in your ears drowned out any further responses over the next few minutes.  Five against one wasn’t a fair match by a long shot and you took quite a few blows, but the football players didn’t have the form or the stamina that you had.  So, when you landed a solid hit to the face or a kick to the leg, it gave you enough time to move on to the next opponent. 

The scene soon descended into chaos, with more students arriving to add to the jeering, screaming sea of onlookers desperately trying to record every second of action on their phones.  Eventually, Archie and Jughead were among them and turned it into a 3v5 before a few administrators caught wind and rushed outside to break things up.

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

“My mom is gonna be so pissed.”

Cheryl’s head tilted to the side, expression soft and filled with subtle adoration as you pressed an icepack to your cheek and slumped against the back of the bench outside of the principal’s office.  Apart from your face, your left side and your knuckles are really the only things that hurt much right now.

“No she won’t; Principal Honey isn’t even calling home and we aren’t in trouble.”

“Yeah, but this will bruise,” you said, shifting the ice, “and I’m not great at lying to her.”

“God, your healthy relationship with your mother is constantly both surprising and refreshing.”  The redhead reached over to squeeze your leg and you looked away, a little bashful at how she always teased you over the difference in parenting styles your mothers had utilized.  “But is it really that big of a deal?  Surely she has to be used to this kind of thing by now.”

“Not exactly.  I’ve never actually been in a fight outside of, you know, the scheduled ones...” you admitted, once again feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment.  Cheryl looked surprised and like she didn’t fully believe your statement.

“Never?  And here I thought you spent your days before Riverdale saving many a damsel in distress.”

“Nope.”

“Well today you saved three, since I’m deciding to count Betty and Veronica as my fellow damsels.  And to say thank you, we’re treating you to dinner at Pop’s and then drinks and a little performance in the speakeasy.”

You arched an eyebrow, then grimaced at the flash of pain in your face.  

“Performance?”

“Just something we’re throwing together,” Cheryl winked mischeviously and just like that, any lingering concerns about your mother’s reaction to this disappeared.

[cactiem]

coming back to you // m.b

Pairing: Marcus Baker x OC

Requested: Nope

Summary: How does Victoria Lexington know Marcus Baker?

GIF Not Mine

Everyone knows everything about everyone in Welsbury. That’s what is part of the charm. Deep in the roots of the picture-perfect town are secrets and lies, feeding its residents. Maybe that’s what brought Georgia to this quaint town. She was intrigued by the flawless front the town presented, a place where nothing could go wrong. It did go wrong though. One fateful summer afternoon, Caroline Lexington was found dead in her home leaving a giant hole in the Lexington home and one in the town she put all her a time and effort in to.

No one had heard from Victoria Lexington after her mom’s funeral. She just disappeared off the face of the planet without telling anyone. Her classmates just thought that she moved away or something after the traumatic year she had but the stares and whispers said otherwise. Her hair was straight, and lips painted a deep red, hips swinging as she walked down the hallway with everyone’s eyes on her. Nothing had changed. It was like the whole summer didn’t exist.

“Who’s that?” Ginny asked, intrigued by the presence Victoria had.

“That is Victoria Lexington.” Abby said as if it was obvious.

Seeing Ginny’s puzzled look, Max couldn’t help but laugh a little. “You’re so cute.” Ginny just gave her a deadpanned look before she continued. “Her family like owns this town and her mom died at the start of the summer so we’re all waiting for a breakdown to happen.”

Ginny looked at the brunette taking in her appearance as the rest of MANG fell into conversation. She didn’t look like she just lost her mom. Her red lips were pursed as she rummaged through her locker, aware of all the attention that was on her and loving every bit of it. Victoria was well put together. Ginny knew everyone handled loss in their own way, but something didn’t sit well with her, she just couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

There was one thing that was getting on Victoria’s nerves as she went through her first day back at school and that was everyone asking her if she was okay. Was she okay? She didn’t know. Nothing was ever black and white. There were many levels to being okay and right now Victoria was okay enough. That didn’t stop her from plastering on a fake smile and thanking everyone for their forced condolences as if they cared. They didn’t. The only person who really cared about her was Marcus and she fucked that up. He saw at her lowest and Victoria couldn’t allow that. After all Lexington’s don’t cry in front of people.

She heard her mom’s voice clear as day, feel her claws digging into her jaw as she gripped it forcing Victoria to look up at her mom. “If you cry at any inconvenience then you’ll never stop crying. Crying is a weakness and Lexington’s aren’t weak.” Deep breath in. “You’ve gotten fat. Please don’t make me alter this dress so close to the gala.” Deep breath out. “This is all your fault. He’s dead because of you.” Deep breath in. “You stupid ungrateful bitch!” Deep breath out.

“Hey, its okay.” Victoria heard Marcus’s familiar voice and felt his hands clasp hers to stop her from hurting herself any further. She opened her eyes to a concerned brown pair looking back at her. He cupped her cheek, wiping away the tears she didn’t even know fell. Victoria quickly brushed him off, stepping away from him and wiping away her own tears.

“I’m fine.” She said, her smile forced.

“Tori, you don’t have to lie to me. I won’t judge.” Marcus slowly walked back over to her, making sure it was okay.

“I know I should feel sad today but I-I don’t. Does that make me a bad person?”

“There’s no wrong or right way on how you should be feeling.” Marcus said and Victoria such collapsed into his arms, gripping his lapels of his jacket as she cried, letting everything out.

At least when she got home, Victoria could count on some sense of normalcy. Her dad in his office doing work leaving the house to herself. That’s at least what she was hoping when she walked through the big oak front doors. Instead, a woman’s laugh could be heard from the kitchen along with her dad’s. Victoria slowly walked into the room, observing what was happening. “Hey, sweetie.” Her dad greeted, happier than he has been in a while. “This is Georgia from the mayor’s office. She’s helping with the business.”

“You must be Ginny’s mom, right?” Victoria said after a moment, looking the blonde women over.

“I am. Are you two friends?” She asked, her smile growing even bigger and her southern drawl thick.

“Great friends.” The brunette returned the smile, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl on the island before going upstairs, a plan hatching in her head.

Looking in the mirror, Victoria finished touching up her hair, her hand knocking over her drink all over Ginny who had just come over to wash her hands. “I am so sorry!” She gasped, feigning shock. “Here let me help you.” She quickly grabbed paper towels to try and help Ginny even though her efforts were pointless knowing the top will stain.

“Thanks.” She mumbled taking the towels to try and salvage her top.

Victoria leaned against the side, looking over Ginny with a sly grin. “If I was you I’d keep my hands to yourself.” Ginny gave the girl an incredulous look as she made her way to the door. “Same goes for your mom.”

Ginny was speechless, standing alone in the bathroom. She couldn’t believe what had happened, well she could but still. Her friends told her not to retaliate knowing that Victoria will make her life a living hell. What they didn’t know though was that Ginny also had a mean sting in her and never pulls her punches. She was a woman on a mission and made a beeline for Victoria after the final bell rang. That was why her friends followed her and Marcus hung around to see what was going to go.

“Can I help you?” She asked, already bored of the conversation that hadn’t started yet.

“You owe me a new top.” Ginny simply said, her arms crossed to help seem more intimidating.

“I told you it was an accident.” Victoria said innocently.

“Oh, please, you and I both know you did this on purpose.” She scoffed. “Why did you this?”

“Because, as classy as ever your mom has already got her claws into a new man, a recently widowed one at that.”

“You mean your dad, right?” Ginny asked before continuing not waiting for an answer because she already knew. “Because let’s not forget why he is a widow in the first place. You killed her, right? Your mom?”

“Ginny.” Victoria heard Marcus warn her, but she held her hand up.

“No, I wanna hear what she has to say.” She clenched her jaw trying to hide the tears that were threatening to fall.

“You killed your mom because you had enough of all the shit she put you through since your brother’s death which, was also your fault.” The silence that had fallen onto the group was suffocating. Everyone was waiting to see Victoria’s reaction, expecting her to breakdown or something. She didn’t though, the many years of hiding her emotions coming handy.

“You’ve what, been here five minutes and you think you know everything? Well, you don’t so how about you keep that pretty mouth of yours shut and run along unless you want me to destroy you and everything your mom built.” Victoria warned, walking away from the stunned crowd.

Her chest rose and her eyes burned from the tears she was holding back. Victoria ended up in the nearest bathroom, not caring if it was the boy’s or not. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the sink hard, trying to calm herself down. “What Ginny said isn’t true, you know that, right?” Victoria should’ve known that Marcus would have followed her. She continued to ignore him, staring down at the floor. “Hey, look at me.” He said, gently lift her chin up so she could see him.

“Why are you being nice to me? I pushed you away, remember? I treated you like shit.” Victoria said.

“Because even though you did that I still find my way back to you just like you find your way back to me.” Marcus leaned down, his lips ghosting hers. The same electric feeling coming back from their first kiss.

A/N: if you have any requests for Marcus please send them in

Tag List: @mayaslifeinabox @princess-of-the-fandoms @live--aloud @les-bio-lie @ivvitm1109 @seninjakitey @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @genius2050 @tiannawashere

[glittercake]

bucky/sarah | rated G | no warnings apply | 1k

It’s a decently warm Sunday in Louisiana and the very first thing Bucky does after settling into his new place in Delacroix, is head over to see the Wilsons.

Well. A very specific Wilson.

There’s no one at the docks though, a few lone fishermen and a couple of kids playing by the shallow shore. Sarah’s nowhere to be found so Bucky sneaks his way up to the house, pays two teenagers to say they never saw him in case Sam asks and even covers his tracks in the dirt.

He spots Sarah on the porch tending to the pots of growing peppers lined up in the windowsill. The sun’s on her back, baking her bare neck, and he imagines for a second what it’ll feel like sliding up behind her and kissing her warm skin with his arms around her middle, squeezing a little.

But hhm... that’s. Yeah, that’ll have to wait. He’s gotta get in the game first before he starts swinging with stuff like that.

He pops his head around the corner, into her line of sight, "Where's Sam?"

Sarah, depositing a freshly picked batch of bell peppers into a bag, jumps, "Oh my lord! Sir, what are you sneaking around like that for?" But she licks her lips, smiles.

"Didn't want Sam catching me," Bucky tells her and shrugs, gives her a grin as he comes over and presents her with a brown paper bag.

"Well, he ain’t around. Over at the Jones’ with Carlos."

"Good.” Bucky grimaces, thinking of Sam’s last warning, "He's still a little, well, apprehensive about this."

Sarah smiles, peeling off her garden gloves, "And what exactly is 'this'?"

"Me wooing you."

Read the rest under the cut or here on Ao3

"Oh, okay, is that what you're doing?" She reaches out to take the paper bag from him and opens it with careful skepticism.

"Hope you like Chinese," he says and settles himself down on the porch steps. Sarah comes to sit beside him and hands one of the containers over.

"I like it just fine." She knocks her shoulder into his, gives him a quick up and down that makes blood rush to his cheeks.

She smells real nice, flowery and sweet and it kind of makes Bucky's head buzz. He's not cool at all, he's a huge fumbling mess and has no actual idea how to act around a woman he's so attracted to. But he tries to keep his composure and do what he came here to do, which is to charm the hell out of Sarah Wilson because damn, he hasn't seen a smile like hers in a hot minute.

In all honesty, he knew he was done for the first time she appeared on the docks and said his name. It's just… he had a lot more fitness before all the brainwashing and torture. Hydra could have done him a solid and left that part intact.

But they didn't, so it's just him and his stupid Chinese take out and the most beautiful girl in the world on this sunny Louisiana afternoon.

"So, wooing, huh?" She grins, slurps up a noodle, and it leaves a shiny sauce trail on her chin.

Bucky's thoughts screech to a halt, "Yes ma'am," and without thinking he reaches up with his right hand, very daringly and way too bold for his own good, touches his thumb to her chin to wipe it up. "Wooing," he confirms as if that move just made his point very clearly.

A delighted laugh bubbles from her chest, "That was smooth; I'll give you that, Bucky Barnes."

"I try," he says, grinning at himself because he didn't think she'd remember his name, much less know his last. To hide his excitement about that, he gets into his own box of noodles instead.

It's kind of quiet then. They eat in silence, she checks her phone, Bucky watches her with a stupid fluttering feeling in his gut. Her braids are down today, draped over her shoulder, her nails are painted a dark red, and she's got a plain white t-shirt on. She's stunning.

He's wondering how the hell he's going to pull this off, thinking he's probably batting way out of his league here, when she clears her throat.

"Don't tell me you got Chinese with no fortune cookies. I don't know what kind of wooing this is but—"

"Nope!" he fumbles in his jacket pocket and pulls out a smaller brown paper bag. He tips it over and empties the content on the porch between them, "Go ahead."

She does. Picks one up and tears it open, then cracks it between her fingers. The crumbs scatter all over as she pulls the little paper out, unfolds it, and then cackles.

"What?" Bucky smiles knowingly, "What's it say?" he takes another bite of chow mein.

Her eyes narrow with laughter when she looks at him and repeats the words on her fortune, "Go on a date with the metal arm man."

"Oh wow." He innocently twirls a noodle around his fork, "Would you look at that?"

"Boy," she chuckles, then cracks open another one, snorts as she reads it, "He's a little weird, but he thinks you're gorgeous."

"These cookies, huh? Jeez." He packs up his empty container, picks up a cookie and pulls the paper out, then shows her, "Oh my god, look at this—"

"Say yes to the date," Sarah reads, giggling.

"Outrageous," he says, smiles, and looks away because his heart is pounding in his chest like a drum.

And she's about to answer when Sam comes jogging around the corner, waving a hand in the air, "No! No, no, no!"

"Oh shit!" Bucky yelps and shoots up and starts running because Sam's about to deck him.

Sam chases after him, "What did I say about flirting with my sister! What did I say?"

"Who told you I was here?" Bucky screams back at him, racing his way around the house with Sam short on his heels.

"Jesus himself told me! Come here!"

When he gains some ground on Sam and reaches the porch again, Sarah's happily amused, beautifully glowing in the high afternoon sun, a golden pearly sheen on her skin.

"So?" he says, stopping in front of her to rest, "Yes or no?"

She sees Sam coming, "Run!" and laughs as Bucky jerks back into a sprint.

He turns, runs backward, "Well?!" he calls out to her with his arms up in question.

Sarah laughs again, like a choir of joy, "Yeah, okay! Saturday!"

Bucky air pumps, "Yes!" just before Sam tackles him to the ground, and then he's heaving under the weight of Captain Fucking America.

But he's not phased. She said yes.

[wincore]

sour tangerine | huang renjun

pairing: keyboardist!renjun x songwriter!reader

words: 15.3k

summary:  ‘i gave up on that sort of music,’ he’d said. but not like this. not when you’re there to grab his wrist and drag him into your ridiculous notions about music that make him want to tear all his hair out. huang renjun falls in love with two words that escape your lips, and now he has to pretend his cheeks aren’t caked in a blush as red as donghyuck’s guitar. maybe he shouldn’t have agreed to joining this band of idiots just for an incredibly cute songwriter.

themes: rock band!au, fluff, (mostly existential) angst, comedy-ish

warnings: making out, alcohol, college kids being college kids

song recs: hello sunshine - wetter // how to love - day6 // today - nell // rooftop - n.flying // what can i do - day6 // red - the rose // i loved you - day6 // leave it - n.flying // baby - the rose

a/n: nct dream 00 line rock band. that’s it. who wants to join my renjun cover literally any song by day6 agenda. if you think this is like a kdrama compressed into a fic i am so sorry but you are correct hsdksh also i do not know what it’s like to major in music or make music so... please bear with me.

special thanks to @insomni-writing​ for beta reading this ilysm!! and @cinanamon​ because your support made me actually finish this ily dude <3

With hair dyed blond and a stream of colourful words ready at the tip of his tongue, no one assumes Huang Renjun majors in classical music. Not when he’s threatening Lee Donghyuck by the vending machine, not when he’s pulling an arrogant half-smile by the semester-end results and certainly not when he’s hardly ever seen near an instrument as elegant as the grand piano.

If they heard him play it just once, they’d forget the rest.

He strikes the keys gently, and then all at once in a motion so very unique to him—and you know this, not because you were stalking him, but because you happened to get a very rare ticket to the national level performing arts concert (which you didn’t scam out of someone that time, you swear). Looking pristine in a clean tuxedo and with then dark hair swept to the side, Huang Renjun looked very much like an alien, like the words leaving his mouth and the things he’d do would be so unpredictable. 

You were right. 

Huang Renjun plays the piano like he’s not of this world. 

He plays soft rock tunes even better—which, this time, you know because you were, in fact, stalking him while he spent extra hours in the practice room. From the lazy smile on his face to the way he let himself loose (for once) in a hot pink hoodie he kept trying to cover with his bag all day, you knew he was perfect.

Out of all the miserably planned (and timed) situations you’ve pulled yourself into, this might just hit top 3. 

You’re going to convince Renjun to join your band.

Which is easier said than done, because Renjun is just as stubborn as you are, if not more. You’ve never wanted to smack someone so bad and neither have you ever contemplated the outcome of spontaneous fistfights as much. But as frustrated as he leaves you, you know you need him, or your picture-perfect plan will fall apart before you’ve even started to paint.

The first time you’d nudged him in class, he’d sent you a glare as soon as the question left your lips. You’d fought a pout, the warmth on your cheeks popping like firecrackers. But you’re not easily discouraged, no, not really, not ever. 

The second time, you’d spread your arms in front of him to get him to stop walking off, looking more of a lunatic than a college student (sometimes, what’s the difference?) and Renjun had pursed his lips and furrowed his brows in an expression more than annoyed. 

“Please!” you yelled, catching the attention of fellow students.

Renjun eyed your palms flat against each other, elbows raised in a most comical prayer and announced a “No” just as loudly before briskly walking away.

The third time, you’d sent Donghyuck, your lead guitarist, who you really shouldn’t have expected to perform better than you did. You know they’re friends, so that should have worked better, right? Wrong. Renjun had returned a pouting Donghyuck, complaining nonstop for two whole days afterwards and with a message from Renjun to “in the best of words, fuck off”.

You sigh, glancing at the time on your watch. This is your last time to book him for your ragtag rock band (still unnamed) and you’re going to leave him with no choice. You can do this. 

You tiptoe from one side of the corridor to the other, the large windows drenching you in an uncomfortable amount of sunlight. But you are quiet—you know how to be sneaky and you’d be lying if you said you’re not at least a little bit proud of it. Renjun stays at the senior practice room well into late afternoon and if the door was closed fully, you’d be hearing nothing of it.

The old model of electronic keyboards in the practice room, which made you wonder if electric instruments ever rust, now plays ringing clear. It’s not just the fondness with which your school’s beloved pianist plays it but the added charm of his structure, straightened enough to focus but relaxed just as much.

A few minutes pass by in quiet contemplation, as you run through your plan again. First, approach him with a friendly gesture, offer him your strawberry milk or something. Second, block every exit he might seek once you’ve cornered him. Third, spew that long speech you prepared—a pretty pile of words ought to move him. Right? If all else fails, you’re going to call in Jaemin as your secret weapon. The boy can charm a rock, and you hate to be doing that to anyone (even Renjun), but drastic situations call for drastic measures. You take a sharp breath.

Oh, he’s singing now?

You misstep over the marble flooring and the door creaks open a little too loud.

Shit.

The music stops. You take a good second to swear at yourself, well and full, before breathing in and entering the practice room with as much confidence as you can gather.

“Renjun!” you say, grinning wide and arms stretched as if you’re there to welcome him.

Renjun looks at you, surprise smeared across his face. He quickly picks up his bag, shaking his head at you as he makes his way towards the door.

“You- “

Instead of all your brilliant planning, you resort to pulling a disgruntled Renjun into a lonesome corner before he can leave. It would seem more of a threat than an invitation to join, you’ll admit, but right now, you need Renjun to not glare at you with a scowl so obvious. It’s not that his face makes you nervous, it’s the outcome of today’s attempt. The bright afternoon sun reaches his hair and the left side of his face, a warm hue over eyes that look at you with more than just mild annoyance. He wears a grungy dark jacket over his lightly coloured T-shirt and has the audacity to claim he doesn’t do rock.

“Are you trying to kidnap me or something?” he asks, adjusting the strap of his bag.

You quickly smack the wall so your arm blocks his way, though the impact of it makes you wince.

“Join me,” you say, looking at him, determination across your face though the sentence comes off more cult-ish than you’d want. 

Renjun takes a step back to look up and take a sharp breath.

“I already told you,” he says, raising his voice, “I don’t do that sort of music anymore.”

“Anymore?”

Renjun groans, lips shaped in perfect annoyance. “Just how long are you going to keep this up?”

He tries to escape you but you take a hasty step closer, his back hitting the wall with a thud. It’s not all that fun, getting people to join your band. It’s even less fun when Renjun’s cologne is a tad too minty for your tastes.

“I’ll do anything!” you say, pressing your lips tight as the pleading grows in your eyes.

“Anything?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes!” You jolt up straighter.

“Then leave me alone forever for the rest of my life.”

Renjun crosses his arms and you frown, a sigh lacing your lips till you bring yourself to look him in the eye again. It’s not yet time to pull out Jaemin, you’re not even sure if that will work, but you might just have something else. 

“Lee Chaerim!” you suddenly yell. “You like her, don’t you?”

It’s a long shot but if it works… 

Renjun’s cheeks dust pink and he takes a step back, furrowing his eyebrows at you. Bullseye. You fight a snort before he can catch you. Gods, he’s so obvious.

“Wh-what gave you that idea?” he retorts, pitch shooting higher before he recomposes himself. “She’s a classmate, idiot. And don’t yell her name!”

“Star pianist Lee Chaerim,” you wave your hand about. “Who wouldn’t have a crush on her? I mean you’re a close second though.”

Renjun raises his eyebrows in disbelief. “It’s really not…”

“I’ll score you a date with her!” you declare, grinning like a maniac. “If you join my band.”

Renjun sighs, shoulders sagging. “You’re really not going to drop this, are you?”

“Nope.” You shrug, popping the ‘p’ in a helplessly obnoxious manner. 

Renjun leans back against the wall, head tilting to look you in the eye as the frown grows prominent over his lips.

“And you think scoring me a date will make me want to join your…band?” Renjun snorts.

You shift your eyes awkwardly. “Well, I didn’t really paint you as the Romeo type either but hey, I don’t judge a book by its cover.”

“(name)?”

“Yes?”

“You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met.”

“Oh. That’s actually the sweetest thing I’ve heard from you,” you muse before quickly returning to the subject at hand. “Ah, come on. Just give it a chance, please? 

“I major in classical music.”

You raise an eyebrow, a smirk crawling over your lips. “And yet you’re more than decent at Queen on the keys.”

Renjun straightens, the crease between his eyebrows deepening. “You’re stalking me?!”

“No, I’m scouting you. All the big companies hire people to do that.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Er, it’s called extraordinary.”

“Extraordinarily annoying.”

“Stop arguing with me!” You stomp your foot.

Renjun mimics you in a rather aggressive tone, the tip of his nose almost touching yours. You pull a face, throwing a soft punch at his shoulder to which he responds with a sharp cry and a glare. 

“Fine!” Renjun says, massaging his shoulder. “I’ll give you one week to prove to me this band’s worth my time.”

You feel something akin to surprise before his words register. Worth his time? He's just about as arrogant as you expected. 

“Deal,” you say, shooting him a forced smile.

From the light periwinkle of his T-shirt to the blond strands astray against his forehead, there’s a sort of halo surrounding him. You press your lips together before you can laugh at his supposed angelic qualities, before he somehow starts to look as pretty as your friends describe. 

“Starting today, I’m your lyricist and composer!” you grin, extending your hand towards him.

“I...You…” 

Renjun hesitates before taking your hand in a firm shake, but not before pursing his lips in doubt. Perhaps you could have warned him before grabbing his wrist and so unceremoniously dragging him here. 

“I didn’t even join,” he mutters.

“I’m giving you the full trial!” you defend.

Renjun stays quiet before suddenly clearing his throat. “You can- You can let go of the wall now.”

Your eyes trail to your hand and you immediately retract it with an “ah”. There’s barely any distance between your chests, and you suppose you were successful in cornering him—a little too effectively. Renjun shakes his head, quickly walking past you with no gesture of goodbye.

“You’re going to be disappointed, (name),” he says quietly before leaving.

You blink in confusion at his disappearing figure. 

Whatever. When have you ever paid attention to words of warning? You glance at the back of Renjun’s head from the second floor’s handrail as he rushes down the stairs, albeit a sort of grace to his movement, and sigh. 

Donghyuck owes you twenty. You’re going to be rubbing it in his smug face that you’ve recruited, er, almost recruited the unreachable Huang Renjun. And for a date? He must be far more romantic than you thought. You don’t think you’ll ever understand him.

You take a slow, deep breath reaching all the way to your belly. 

Your plan is working out. It’s going to work out—soon you can be writing songs to a rhythm and melody of your choice, for people who can hear the words and dance to it. The world’s gonna sing along to your songs, to the chorus to your ambitions. 

“Renjun?!”

Between Donghyuck’s agape mouth and Renjun’s defensive stance, you really don’t know who to approach first. This place was apparently the only room in all of Seoul a bunch of college kids could rent out and while all of you dished out a remarkable chunk from your earnings, it was worth every penny. From the ugly orange wallpaper to the stinky couch, you wouldn’t trade a thing in this room, except for maybe Jeno’s withering plant in exchange for a new one. Poor thing’s been dead for as long as you can remember (courtesy of Jaemin).

“(name) actually convinced you?” Donghyuck asks, exaggerated surprise in his voice before he drops it lower. “You can tell me if you were threatened or something, promise I’ll get you out of this.”

Renjun rolls his eyes, a smile making on to his face anyway. “It’s just for a w—mph!”

You slap a hand over Renjun’s mouth, stepping in to grin victoriously at Donghyuck. “See, Hyuck? I told you I’d make it work. Now, pay up.”

“You bet on this?” 

The curtains are drawn shut but the room lights are bright in a strange sort of way, like someone in the sixteenth century discovered electricity early and decided to reinvent candlelight out of it. Late afternoon isn’t as gentle as it is in winter, but you’d rather have patches of sunlight decorating the room instead of the garish yellow lights. The lavender air freshener you sprayed a few minutes ago has already settled in, the previous scent of instant noodles, though delicious, finally gone. You should’ve brought the coffee mix, you think with regret. A productive day needs a productive start, as you’ve always been told. (You might have messed up, but it’s never too late, right?)

You think you should have anticipated a little adjustment trouble after all.

Jeno walks headfirst into the mess—with Renjun choking Donghyuck under his arm while you try to not drop the pile of records from the small coffee table and onto the Dorito dust-covered wooden floor. The recorder is safe, a good few feet away from your mayhem.

“Oh, hey Renjun, didn’t know you’re a part of this,” Jeno says, raising an eyebrow at the boy.

“Yeah, I didn’t either,” Renjun mutters in response, loosing up on Donghyuck.

You narrow your eyes. “Wait, you guys know each other?”

“Yeah, we’re in the same dorm,” Jeno answers, shrugging before he drops his bag onto the couch. 

You gasp. “You could’ve just asked him all this time?!”

“Uh,” Jeno drawls out before coughing forcefully. There’s a slight change of air, and your inability to read situations, for the first time, is a major help.

“Hello, trouble children,” Jaemin announces as he enters, his bag thrown in Jeno’s direction, who seems relieved for the interruption.

“Oh, hi Renjun!” 

“You know him too?” You’re almost offended at this point. 

Jaemin stares blankly in confusion. “Yeah, we’re…all…in the same dorm.”

You throw up your head in exasperation, an annoyed huff leaving your parted lips. “And none of you thought of asking him to join?!”

“We didn’t think he’d ever agree,” Jaemin says, glancing at Renjun discreetly. 

Renjun stays quiet, shrugging before he plops down on the couch. “Anyone wanna tell me what we’re supposed to do today? Apart from killing Donghyuck?”

“It’s not my fault you’re so bad at rock, paper, scissors,” Donghyuck retorts quietly. 

“You cheated!” Renjun sits up straight, glaring.

You raise your palms like the peaceful negotiator you are, and honestly, all they had to do was decide the lead vocal for the new song, which Renjun vehemently rejected. 

Donghyuck gasps. “Renjun isn’t half as innocent as he looks. Watch out (name)—oof.”

Renjun elbows him in the stomach, the resulting expression on Donghyuck making you wonder just how much strength Renjun really has.

“Renjun, Donghyuck. You’re both lead,” you say, finalizing.

“What?!” 

The two of them look at you, one with betrayal and the other with an emotion very close to murder. It wasn’t easy coming to the decision, sure, but for this song, you’ll be needing Renjun a little bit more. Is it treacherous of you to have picked out the song most suited to him? You have your reasons, however. You’re not letting Renjun leave without experiencing the wonders of performing at a local pub, and in general, you’re a little iffy about letting him leave at all. You need the keys and you need a chance. You have something to prove.

“Just this song, Hyuck,” you sigh. “You know we switch up things every time.”

“Fine,” he grumbles. “The show's coming Saturday, right?”

You nod when Renjun interrupts.

“Show?!” he blurts.

“We’re performing,” you answer, shrugging. “You know Odd Fruit? In Hongdae?”

Renjun wrinkles his nose, shifting back. “No? Isn’t that a dive bar?”

“Best place for us,” Jaemin grins, resting his elbows against the headrest beside Renjun. “Saturdays are for rock.”

Renjun sighs. “I don’t- I don’t sing rock.”

Jeno raises an eyebrow. “I wasn’t peeping or anything but wasn’t that you in the shower? What were you singing again—”

“Okay, okay!” Renjun sits up straight, heaving a sigh, his shoulders moving with it. “I sing Disney songs in the shower, it doesn’t mean anything…”

“We can do that sort of music too.” You grin, tilting your head. “We can do any music!”

“Yeah,” Jeno encourages thoughtfully, “Even idol music!”

“No,” everyone says in unison. 

Jeno mutters something under his breath, sulking as he sinks into the couch and crosses his arms after adjusting his bright red baseball cap.

Renjun shakes his head, recomposing himself. “You want me to perform next Saturday?! That wasn’t in the deal!”

You furrow your brows. “I told you it’s a full trial!”

“That’s over a week!” He throws up his hands in exasperation.

“The trial week ends on Friday and Saturday’s just a bonus,” you reason, crossing your arms. 

You don't break the gaze just in case it determines your stand. It’s probably a full minute of glaring at each other before your humble audience intervenes, Donghyuck bursting into laughter and the other two following. You share a puzzled look with Renjun, looking around for an explanation.

“We’re gonna have a blast this Saturday,” Donghyuck says, wiping a tear from his eye. “I can’t wait.”

“We’ll get to practise,” Jaemin says, resting his palm on Renjun’s shoulder reassuringly. “You’re gonna have fun, trust me.”

“I hope so,” Renjun mutters.

That’s all you need to hear.

Renjun isn’t half as disagreeable when he’s focused. His brow line is straight, lips parted gently and eyes almost hazed over as if his fingers over the keys have eyes of their own. 

Renjun is also fantastic at perfecting your notes. You always thought he’d be too prissy to work with you, but he doesn’t seem to care about that anymore. With flushed knuckles and long fingers, part of hands that were meant to play the piano—you’d say Renun lives up to the musical prodigy title. The short demo you’d played for him somehow swirled and twined into music so him and yet still you, rock undertones with light blues. You haven’t met anyone who can play with melody like that, besides Donghyuck.

Rock means hope. Undone to be done.

And maybe, part of you is a little disappointed at how well he handles the pre-performance stress. You would love to see a hint of jitters in him for once. Saturday wastes no time in creeping up and while you wish you could say you feel what your band looks like, you don’t. The pre-performance stress is very, very different for you. 

Let’s say, you’re not too sure about reviving rock music in Seoul. It’s not very popular and still considered underground, but hey, at least it’s easy on the ears and it is honest, if nothing else. And an honest sound wins, right?

You lock eyes with Renjun, before they're ushered to the centre. There's not much to be said. You smile with a determined nod, holding up both of your thumbs to the boys. This will work out. It will.

And at the very least, you're getting two shots of whiskey on the house.

The place is shabby, but not too shabby for a dive bar. There’s a giant mural… thing of what seems to be the hybrid of a peach, apricot and dragonfruit. You’re not too sure, actually. Just as crowded as you expected, the lights glow dim and the smell of musk and lime keep in check the other foul smells that could possibly emanate from the human body. Lovely. Your fingers play against your lips as they stretch into a smile. It’s the perfect place to play your song, but maybe the jitters have a purpose after all.

There are foreign faces around, quite literally, and it makes you nervous. You settle by the bar, your last words of encouragement drifted off further from you to whatever that excuse of a stage is. 

Renjun looks calm as ever. The confidence in him is not what you'd expected, though a bubbling feeling in you suggests it's even better this way.

“You finally got someone on the keys,” a familiar voice calls from behind the countertop.

You turn your head to find Doyoung, arms resting on the table and holding what seems to be a bottle of vodka so tenderly, you’d think it was either his child or an explosive.

“Huang Renjun,” you respond, smiling. “Like the best pianist in our year. Or maybe second best.”

Doyoung laughs. “You kids could be as good as us some day. Need more practice.”

“Hey, old man, it’s not your time anymore,” you say, raising an eyebrow with a cheeky grin. “Maybe you were the best keyboardist back then but…”

You lean in to emphasize as you point at a Renjun furrowing his brows at all the wiring. “That guy’s going to outsing you. It’s the new era now. Etcetera, etcetera.”

“You talk like I’m from a different generation.” Doyoung scoffs, though the corner of his lips twitch. “Still dreaming of making your boyband? Do you guys even have a name?”

You pout. “It’s not a boyband! Okay… technically, it is a boyband. And no, we don’t have a name.”

You sulk for a moment or two at the way Doyoung had called your life’s work a boyband in that uninterested tone. Nothing’s wrong with a boyband. You sigh.

“At least we’re getting free alcohol, eh?” you nudge Doyoung, him being the reason you’re getting to play here anyway. What does a graduated music performance major do in his free time? Bartending, apparently. You haven’t ever really questioned his life choices and you’re not going to start now. Never question your seniors.

“I’m not serving you kids alcohol,” he says, furrowing his eyebrows in disbelief.

“We’re legal,” you argue, crossing your arms.

“Hard to believe.”

You see the smile lines crease on Doyoung’s face and before you can retort, a hum of strings resounds through the place, loud enough for the two of you to catch.

“Sorry,” Donghyuck mouths sheepishly to the two of you, Doyoung responding with an eye roll.

“I didn’t know that demon could get nervous,” he mutters and you laugh at the comedic duo the two of them make. 

Donghyuck clears his throat into the mic and you cringe, but not before holding back your laughter at the terror in his eyes. Right then, the keys are struck, and suddenly, music is into motion.

You absentmindedly hum along, smiling to yourself before it strikes you to monitor the crowd. You gulp, a crease in your brows as you look around with the determination of a child at a pet shop scanning for a puppy to adopt.

You give up after a minute or so, the feeling weighing heavy. Reading facial expressions has never really been your thing, especially under lights that don’t acknowledge the purpose of their existence. (You’re not saying this because you have bad eyesight.) Fun varies. Everyone in this place is in a crowd of their own, and if not a crowd, in a dream. Some nod along, some smile but you, you know the song better than anyone else in this room. It has to be worth something.

You sigh. Your desperation gets a notch crueler each drawing year, and yet, the questions still arise. Do you have to be someone? A smiling face at a dive bar is more than enough to be, you think.

You mouth the lyrics, nodding your head along to the baseline you helped make. You think Doyoung chuckles beside you, something about taking self-love too seriously but you can’t hear him over the sound of the band. 

Bass. Drums. Keys.

Suddenly, in the moment between heartbeats, your eyes meet Renjun’s.

He sings into the mic full of self-assurance, teeth occasionally making an appearance in a chaotic smile. It's always the little things that make the person. Eyes peering down at the keys, barely keeping open at certain parts and yet you think you see a hint of exhilaration in them. 

The riff of the second song starts out loud. This is Donghyuck’s song and this time, it turns heads. You’re not sure in a good way or bad, but it wouldn’t be the first time people have wanted to beat him up in a bar. You snicker to yourself but just then, two guys cheer from the crowd, a red-faced Donghyuck flashing them a grin.

“Ah, Jaehyun and Taeil are here too,” Doyoung notes. You’ve never actually met the two but you’ve heard of them so many times you think you could replace Doyoung as their lead singer. 

The song is called Cheers and for good reason.

Donghyuck smiles into the mic, and with a highly anticipated breath, you realize, Renjun is smiling too. Little by little, the night grows more optimistic and into the palms of your youth. Even in this tiny, crowded place. Even in a room full of people you can’t read.

The song ends in time, but not enough for Donghyuck to actually convince Doyoung to give him drinks. It’s not a Saturday night without their fights, and despite that, the atmosphere is warm with spoken words. You think you catch Renjun beam at Doyoung’s compliment, suppressing your own smile at the two..

Clink, splash, clink.

“You know, for someone as excited about whiskey, I thought you’d be better with liquor,” Renjun says, sighing as his hesitant finger pokes you in the forehead.

Your eyes open so suddenly, Renjun flinches and you ease into a smile. “I’m not that drunk. The next shot, maybe.”

That’s not entirely true because you’re sure the previous one just needs a little more time to settle into your gut. Renjun, on the other hand, seems to be better at dealing with alcohol. The peach hue across his cheeks make you want to pinch them and you’ll give it twenty minutes before you lose control and actually do.

The two songs were only three and a half minutes each but they seemed to stretch long enough for you to be pleased with them. You’re not sure about the rest.

“I almost messed up the beat there,” Jeno mutters, resting his head against the bar table. Jaemin shrugs beside him, taking another shot. The two of them can hold their liquor, at least. Donghyuck cannot.

“Was it that bad?” Donghyuck asks, adjusting the red bomber jacket he was so sure made him look cool. “I don’t think it was bad. I mean, we all do embarrassing things once in a while—”

“Does he not shut up?” Renjun wails before looking at you accusingly. “Don’t end up like that.” 

“I don’t mope, Renjun,” you snap, your finger unsteady as it points at him. “You better remember that about me.”

Renjun rolls his eyes. “And you’re gone too.”

“Tell me,” you say, your lips tugged into a lazy smile, “you enjoyed it, didn’t you? I saw you smiling.”

Even under the wash of blue light, you can see his cheeks tinge with colour. Is Huang Renjun purple now? Not the crystal clear jewel you’d expected, but these hues are so much nicer on him. He doesn’t always have to be under golden spotlight—he can just bask in the mulberry shades of a nearly sketchy club once in a while.

“Renjun,” a loud whine erupts from beside you, Donghyuck immediately wobbling up. “I can’t believe you actually agreed to play with us. C’mere, let me give you a smooch.”

Renjun curls his lips, desperately trying to fight off Donghyuck clinging onto him for life, and you hear a grunt of pain from Renjun in a pitch you didn’t think was humanly possible. You laugh, clutching your stomach and hear a few strained words from Renjun about how no one ever helps him. Who would help him when he’s providing you the funniest event of the weekend?

Jeno is the knight in shining armour tonight, pulling Donghyuck off but not before the boy lands a kiss on Renjun’s neck, in turn getting smacked in the lips a little too hard. Donghyuck places his hand over his mouth, keeling over with eyes shut in pain and Renjun mutters about how he deserved that. He fits in just fine, you think.

“You wanna… not do that?” 

Renjun pulls the shot glass away from you, and you frown at him.

“So tell me,” he says, leaning in a little closer to be heard over the song. “Why did you want me to join your band so desperately you forgot your own dignity? I’m not saying you had any to begin with but…”

“Look, Renjun, I don’t give away embarrassing secrets when I’m drunk,” you warn, poking him right between the ribs. “Even if it’s not embarrassing. Or a secret.”

“Right. You’d do that sober,” he sighs, arms a polite distance from you when you try to stand up.

“Now you tell me—”

“You didn’t even answer me.”

“—did you have fun?”

Renjun pauses, taking a moment or two as he scans your face. The light dances across his features, gentle eyes and parted lips, across the dark jacket over a white shirt that has turned fluorescent under the lighting. You forgot how fun this place got beyond midnight, when they play beats to dance to for a crowd that seeks nothing more than fun.

“Yes. Yes, I did.”

Renjun might be trying very hard to stop the smile over his lips but you can see it in his eyes. And perhaps, people are only seen when they are true to themselves.

“Huang Renjun!” you yell all of a sudden, voice still drowned out in the delicate discordance. 

Unfortunately for Renjun, you yell directly into his ear and he responds with a violent recoil, hand flying to his ear involuntarily. He probably cries out too but the music is deafening, something you enjoy rightly so. Or is it the alcohol? Should you have stayed sober for Renjun’s sake? Right now, you don’t even mind the strong minty scent wafting from Renjun—in fact, it’s welcoming, even.

You wobble onto his chest before tentatively pushing yourself away. You curse at yourself. You weren’t supposed to get hammered. How much did you drink? You can’t even bear to look at the bill right now.

“You know what? I’m not having fun right now,” Renjun speaks into your ear and you jump. There’s a hint of a smile on his face. 

You sit back down on the bar stool, pouting at the fuzz blooming inside your head. No more words for tonight. In all honesty, why doesn’t anyone ever let you dance?

“Oh no, you don’t.” Doyoung pulls the bottle of whatever-alcoholic-beverage out of your reach. “Do you even know how expensive that is? You’re going to have to pay.”

You think you sober up a little, sitting straight. “Oh no. I don’t have money. I’m not cleaning the place again.”

A sort of unspoken arrangement passes between Doyoung and Renjun, who you’re sure have never met before. You know Jaemin’s dragged Donghyuck home, the same way you’d drag your pet cat away from the kitchen and Jeno is the only one with a driver’s license and Doyoung’s trust (hence, designated driver). Which leaves the two of you. 

Renjun heaves a sigh, pulling you up by the shoulders. “You’re going home. Or whatever dumpster you came from.”

He proceeds to mutter something about Jeno being late but in the moment, you flash him a grin, walking perfectly away (at least, you think you do) and out into the night. Renjun follows, flustered by your absolute lack of restraint as he somehow manages to stop you from tripping over the sidewalk.

“You didn’t dance,” you complain, looking at him. 

“You didn’t let me,” he retorts. “Look at you. You’re as bad as Donghyuck. Babysitting him is difficult enough.”

You grumble before agreeing. “Okay, fair. Next time, no drinking. Unless it’s free.”

What college student would have the audacity to turn down free drinks? Huang Renjun should not have been this good at holding his liquor. Needlessly, your thoughts are incoherent—not too good for a songwriter, right?

Huang Renjun has a lighter touch than you thought. He has a polite hold over your shoulder, in a way friends do most often, and you might feel like you could have been friends with him forever, but you can never tell what he thinks. Sometimes, Renjun really is extraterrestrial. In the way he talks, in the way he looks at things and in the way you almost believe he’s going to do something unspeakably outrageous someday. 

You feel a certain sprout of warmth in your chest as he sits quietly beside you in the noisy car Jeno loves to drive. Must be the alcohol, of course. Of course.

And sometimes, you come up with words fit for a song. To fall asleep in last night’s clothes and wake up with tomorrow’s dreams—all part of the grand plan, part of the crusades of youth, nothing more and nothing less. That sounds like something you’d love telling your family when you’re old and grey. You laugh to yourself, pulling the covers over your head, not knowing how you even ended up here. 

It smells minty. 

With that one fleeting thought, you doze off in your unwashed bed sheets and faintly lemon-scented pillows, shades of plums and oranges and cherries of the night twisting into midnight black.

Playing at Odd Fruit is now a thing. Your thing. The band’s thing.  

As if you needed any more reasons to stay over at the bandroom, now that Donghyuck and Renjun bickering keeps everyone up all night. You’re not blaming them, of course, when you join in the fun too. The day Renjun’s nostrils stop flaring and his eyebrows don’t furrow into an oddly adorable expression will be the day he’s finally set free from your ‘ill-treatment’.

Tap, scratch, tap.

Donghyuck fiddles with the strings of his guitar, while the rest lay slumped in any clean bit of space they could find, like runners after a marathon. Which is funny, really, considering you were the one running errands and cleaning up the damn place and it’s yet still somehow trashed. You could be having a little more energy, you always could. 

However, the lengthened nights have left you in a state you’re rather afraid to be in. Your eyes don’t grow any more determined when it’s time for end semester tests, you don’t grow any happier at the thought of graduating. There are so many tunes to find, so many words to scribble—just how will you catch up?

Fun is a perfectly valid reason to do things but it’s only so long before the rest of your feelings each grip you by the limbs. 

“We need to do something more,” you say, pacing the room. “Something that’s a little more eye-catching, you know?”

There’s a pause.

“Make Jeno play the drums shirtless,” Donghyuck suggests.

Jeno sighs, still not having figured out how to respond every time a scandalizing proposition escapes the boy’s mouth. At this point, most of you have considered duct taping him over the mouth but it’d never work. Renjun’s tried.

“Why do we even need it?” Renjun asks, eyes on the ceiling as he lies back on the couch.

“To improve!” you say, shoulders hunching.

“I don’t need improving,” he mutters, neck angled to the side in contemplation.

“Yeah, you should see Renjun at the dorms,” Donghyuck snorts. “I don’t think he can get any better.”

Renjun furrows his brows. “What?”

“You play the keys in your sleep, Renjun,” Donghyuck says, almost distastefully. “You keep tapping and tapping against the study desk. How the hell do you not wake yourself up?”

“And you snore,” Renjun mumbles, glaring at him. “How the hell do you not wake yourself up?”

“Guys,” you interrupt. Your lack of sleep throughout the exam season has not left you any better than this. “More important matters at hand.”

“Why are we so stressed anyway?” Renjun sighs.

There’s another pause in the quiet afternoon. You’d think it’s comforting even to have the same fear lingering beneath each of your noses, that same existential grasp ready to pounce—all within the comfort of the same room you share. All those late nights sharing ramen have meaning after all, as do the utter messes all of you make on Friday evenings as the boys try to practise, as does every Saturday night performance and every Sunday afternoon spent trying to watch the same movie on a tiny phone screen.

“How about we each look for inspiration?” Jaemin pipes up, eyes still a little lost.

Everyone turns to him and he straightens ever so slightly. “Me and Jeno can come up with a beat, (name) and Renjun can look for a melody and Donghyuck—”

“Can fuck off?” Renjun suggests helpfully.

Donghyuck pouts, crossing his arms. “Hey I’m—”

“Yeah, maybe Donghyuck can fuck off,” Jaemin says, fighting a smile. You raise an eyebrow, wondering which one of Donghyuck’s antics finally got on Jaemin’s nerves.

“This is harassment,” Donghyuck mutters before sinking into the couch beside Renjun. “Well, good for me! I get a day off—”

“No, you don’t,” Jaemin disproves. “You’re cleaning up this place.” 

Donghyuck lets out a gasp. “All by myself?”

“Well, you trashed the place all by yourself,” Jeno reasons.

You tune out the bickering for a few moments. There are important matters at hand and no one seems to be listening to you. You play with your fingers absentmindedly when the thought arrives that maybe you should declare your secret little project. The song you wrote with Renjun in mind, that is. You should admit that it’s really just a nicer way of saying you wrote a song for him. 

Astounding, isn’t it? This should be the part where you feel your pulse quicken. It’s just a song and the nights spent with him on the keyboards, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes has given you a head full of rhythm and song. It’s just a song.

You’d do anything for a good song.

But first, you need your audio converter fixed. The damn thing’s been generating noise all on its own, when it’s clearly your job.

“I need to go to Yongsan,” you say, picking up your bag. “We can find inspiration along the way, can’t we Renjun?”

“Why do we need to go—”

“Oh, get me some replacement strings for my guitar,” Donghyuck chirps.

“And a new pair of drumsticks,” Jeno says, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. You sigh. He really needs to stop breaking those. Where do drummers get such unparalleled rage on a drum set?

You walk over to the door before turning back and sending a pointed look at Renjun.

“I… have to?” he asks, and the look in his eyes almost makes you pity him. If anything, he’s having it worse than the rest of you are, with balancing the weekly gigs and practising for his piano recitals, though he never studies like the rest. You feel sorry but clearly, not enough.

“Yes,” you reply hurriedly. “Quick, get up, come on, we’re wasting time.”

“Okay, okay! Don’t pull my shirt!”

It’s so easy to get Renjun to do things these days. You bite back a smile as he fixes his collar, features still disgruntled by your (over)enthusiasm. His bag is cuter than you thought for someone who dresses punk (“It’s not punk,” he’d snapped, after re-dyeing his hair yet again.), with three different moomin keychains hanging against a baby blue hue. 

You should know better than to let yourself think about someone so much.

The subway is absolutely lovable when it isn’t rush hour.

Skyscrapers nearly aren’t as looming as they are on rainy days, but you make your way through a still busy city, the heart of it beating like a snare drum with each passing moment.  A little rain cannot stop Seoul. 

Renjun walks beside you explaining how you should really look into this new underground artist you’ve already listened to three times this week because of him. He never seems to understand that you are, in fact, capable of remembering the things he says.

“I wrote a song about you,” you say abruptly.

Very smooth.

Renjun raises an eyebrow. “Like as a gift? A fan song? I’m so flatter—”

“No, stupid,” you interrupt, shifting your eyes upon irrelevant surrounding details. “It’s not about you. I just thought you’d like it.”

You pause.

“Yeah, it’s a little bit about you. A gift for joining. You can sing it to yourself in the shower or something.”

“You know, I feel really offended when you call me stupid.”

You glare at him. His ears are tinged red but right now, you’re a little more than done with his insults. Sure, you make mistakes—like dropping a full open can of soda on your own lap or submitting the wrong assignment to the wrong professor—but at least you’re not cynical Huang Renjun, incapable of making mistakes at all. It would be much more infuriating if you hadn’t seen Renjun drooling in his sleep or vigorously wipe at his nose after having snacks too spicy for his own good. You suppress a retort.

You reach the subway entrance taking slower steps than usual; but time is not a constraint here.

“It’s not a diss track, is it?” Renjun asks, suddenly doubtful. 

You can’t help your laugh (and horrifically, snorts), in turn evoking a smile in Renjun.

“No, it isn’t,” you assure, before grabbing his wrist and skipping down the steps, Renjun’s panicked voice yelling at you to slow down. 

“Can you not do that?” he complains, massaging his wrist at the subway platform.

“You made it through without tripping,” you reason, sticking your tongue out at him.

He reaches out to flick your forehead but you cover it just in time, a grin blooming across both your faces at this childish playfight. The train arrives with an almost soundless screech and you hop on slowly with anticipation in your footsteps.

“So what is it about?” Renjun asks, leaning forward to rest his elbows against his knees.

“You,” you respond, nonchalant.

“Very informative.”

The noise of the trains keeps the moment engaged, chuffing throughout as busy as they are.

Renjun lets out a barely audible gasp. “It’s not a- It’s not a love song, is it?”

You laugh, amused.

“Renjun, I knew you were arrogant but not this arrogant,” you tease.

He flushes hotly, and there’s that feeling again—that maybe you’re wrong. Maybe you don’t have anything else to hang on to and music is the only ledge left. 

You wrinkle your nose before shaking yourself off the feeling. Rainy days always do this.

“Besides,” you say, “I’m still going to score you that hot date with star pianist number one, aren’t I?”

“Not number one,” he begins before hesitating. “That’s… not necessary but thanks.”

You punch him swiftly and he responds with an oof, clutching the ball of his shoulder.

“Don’t be shy,” you complain. “That’s not fun.”

“Well, I’m not fun,” he retorts. “I don’t need to be. I like having a working brain.”

You send him an exaggerated hurt look, hand reaching to pull at his cheek before it gets swatted away. Somehow, in this exact moment, you find a new tune and it doesn’t seem to be the end of your search. You contemplate saving it in your voice memos but you figure a noisy subway train is the last place to record. Besides, you don’t want to lose the look in Renjun’s eyes when he’s talking about how impressive the new relocated concert hall is.

“It’s called Not Feeling Spring,” you say when the train doors open to your station.

Renjun raises an eyebrow, somewhat disbelieving, although you’re not sure of what. 

“You’ve definitely packed some insults in there,” he accuses.

You look at him, defeated. “Trust me.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

Step, step, splash. 

“Ew,” Renjun says, shaking his foot after landing on a particularly damp part of the sidewalk. They really should have evened out the path when laying the pavement. But unfortunately for Renjun, he’s already stepped onto rainwater in bright yellow converse.

It’s not just his shoes that look like daisies could bloom over them either—there’s paint over his denim jacket in pictures you’re aware that Renjun himself painted. A nice little touch, but not a very smart choice for a garment. How unlike him, you think to yourself when you hear him sigh and complain about the weather.

“So this is your famous shop?” Renjun asks, eyeing the discoloured walls of the store by the shop.

“You’re doing your thing again,” you reply, face souring.

He looks baffled. “What thing?”

“Your thing. The one where you act all cynical.”

“I’m not cynical.” He crosses his arms.

“Great, you’re even cynical about being cynical.”

Inside is, of course, as warm as ever. The walls are vibrant red, in stark contrast with the exterior and you think you see Renjun’s face grow pinkish. You smile at the man behind the counter, in his late fifties and smile still somehow as bright as yours.

“What’s the problem, dear?” he asks, glancing at your laptop. “You know I can’t help with software issues.”

“I know,” you say, “But I’ve tried every guide on the internet and there’s still unnecessary noise.”

He clicks around your screen for a few seconds.

“Have you tried getting a better mic?”

“Uh.”

Renjun snickers beside you before promptly apologizing at the two pairs of eyes on him. You didn’t bring him here just to embarrass yourself in front of him. Your cheeks flush as you tell the man you’ll come another day with your mic, before heading to the supplements aisle. Renjun follows you quietly, silent laughter yet still etched over his face and he looks away when you glare at him.

“Are you sure you wanna buy the wooden drumsticks?” Renjun asks, picking up the carbon fibre ones instead.

“Jeno loves the wooden ones,” you defend. “And you really think those are within my budget?”

Renjun shrugs, keeping them back in place. 

“Feels like I’m shopping for babies,” he mutters.

There’s a second’s pause before he straightens, a particular discomfort in his being. “Not- Not like my babies or something. I- I meant—”

“I know what you meant,” you say, trying very hard to hold in your laughter. 

“I don’t like that face you’re making.”

“You don’t always have to explain yourself,” you smile before heading to the counter.

The scent of rain makes you nostalgic. You step outside with Renjun and into the sound of rain against pavement. It’s wet and damp, and your hair clings to your skin in that horrific discomfort of humidity, truly one of the worst cruelties of rain. You make a face but an idea strikes you smack across the forehead.

You gasp.

“This can be our stage!” you declare, spreading your arms.

Renjun pulls your arms down. “Don’t block the sidewalk!”

“Sorry.”

You shove your bag onto Renjun, bewildering him even further. The sleeves of the jacket he rolled up, fall into place again as he raises an eyebrow at you.

“This,” you say, waving your arms about, “Should be a stage.”

“Huh?”

Renjun looks unconvinced at your flailing and you sigh. 

“The rain!” you say, trying to sound as enthusiastic as you can. “Isn’t it romantic? You’ve never thought what it would be like playing in the rain?”

“Uh, inconvenient?”

You groan. “Come on! Picture it for a second.”

You give it a moment before showing him what you mean. Renjun bursts into laughter at your air guitar performance, suddenly unaware of the pit-a-pat. 

“It would be nice,” he says, his teeth poking against his lips. He places the bags under the shaded entrance of the store before stepping into the drizzle.

Pitter, patter.

Renjun flashes you a goofy smile, shaking the water out of his hair only for the rain to come in stronger. With raindrops caught on eyelashes, you can only think of the soft, rising melodies that come in movie scenes like these, except it’s a lot more uncomfortable than they show it to be. You smoothen your hair, getting slightly frizzy due to the raindrops. You’ve always wanted to do things out of line and out of regularity and it’s not just because of the price sticker spelling ‘youth’ that clings to your back—but now, is it selfish to just want to stay under the rain? 

In a way it feels just the same as ever; like singing barefoot on an asphalt road, cooling rains and people around, without a care each. You tell Renjun about the time you were stranded by the bus stop under heavy downpour for so long, you decided to walk home with pneumonia a step behind you and he tells you that you’re an idiot. It’s nothing unusual but it makes you smile when he laughs at you. 

The rain slows again before you can start to shiver, chest rising and falling with each breath that fills your lungs. 

“I have a song!” you declare, eyes shining. “A love song. We’ve never done a love song.”

“A love song?” Renjun asks, laughing almost. “You want to write a radio love song? Why?”

“Because, Huang Renjun, there’s not a thing in the world that isn’t made for love.”

Renjun pauses before wrinkling his nose. “Don’t preach me.”

The clap of thunder startles the two of you out of calm. It’s not so much the screams that left your mouths simultaneously as the looks you get from passersby. Renjun looks at you the same time as you look at him, his ears red and eyes nervous.

“Lightning doesn’t- Lightning doesn’t strike in the middle of the city, does it?” Renjun asks, eyebrows furrowed and lips parted, like a hare stranded in the middle of a busy road.

“I don’t know!” You respond, pulling him by the sleeve to the nearest cover. “I don’t want to know.”

Renjun grabs your hand and you realize with a thump in your heart the effect of it. He pulls you to the side, saving your jeans from the fate of getting splashed by muddy water courtesy of an oncoming car.

“Ooh, quick reflex,” you say, despite the clanging of cymbals inside your ribcage.

He shrugs, picking up the bags and shoving yours to your chest.

“Ow?”

“Don’t look at me like that. You know why.”

“You know, you’re not as grumpy as I thought you were. You’re still petty, though.”

“Thanks.”

When you’re back to the bandroom, you find Donghyuck snoring on the couch with an even more worn out Jaemin sitting cross legged on the floor and his head against Donghyuck's knee. Jeno looks like he’s in a world of his own, tapping away at his phone in a game he seems to be losing at.

“Why are you guys wet?” Jaemin asks, cracking an eye open. “Had some life-changing experience?”

“Not really.” You shrug. “Why do you guys look dead?”

“I am dead,” Donghyuck mumbles in his sleep to which Jaemin shakes his head.

“He didn’t even do the entire cleaning…”

You hope the skip in your steps isn’t too obvious. You have a song and this time, it feels pure in a way that you haven’t made before.

“I hope you guys came up with a beat,” you call.

“Uh, about that—”

“I have a new song!” you announce bouncing on the balls of your feet.

Your declaration is met with a bunch of smiles. Soon enough, everyone in the room is up and to their positions in a matter of minutes. 

Music isn’t about being eye-catching, considering the eyes have nothing to do with it anyway. You signal Renjun who in turn, clears his throat.

A strum of guitar string. Four notes on the keys. Bass. A beat on the drums.

“One. Two. Ah, one, two, three, four!”

The cafeteria is jam packed at three a.m so it’s a good thing you brought Renjun here an hour early. So, your top secret, full resistance, avant-garde mission? Your new song and the one for Renjun, of course. 

“So this is top secret,” you whisper when he sits down from across you.

“I’m sure it is,” he snickers.

You pass your notebook to him, scribbles neater than usual. (That’s only because you rewrote the song in a new page.) You start your laptop, waiting for the screen to load as Renjun goes over the lines.

“My dreams and I don’t get along,” Renjun reads aloud before furrowing his brows.

Ah, I hate people.

I hate my friends too.

And I love saying that which isn’t true.

“Oh, very funny, (name),” Renjun scorns, crossing his arms. “Is that what you think of me?”

You chuckle to yourself. Maybe it was a little petty, but you love the look on Renjun’s face when he’s annoyed, nerves a second away from being completely fried. Just for fun. This was just for fun. 

Somewhere along, however, you can’t deny the essence of him you’d so hopelessly wanted to capture in the melody, in rhythm and timbre, orchestral almost. It’s each note of the piano he plays to himself late at night in the bandroom, each featherlight hit on the cymbal and the song you hum to yourself on the bus ride to classes every morning.

It’s a love song. 

You break into a sudden coughing fit at the thought, Renjun flinching before offering you his bottle of water. Somehow, the gentle hand on your back trying to ease you gives you yet another reason to support your unwanted epiphany. That’s just ridiculous. It’s something natural between friends, isn’t it? Yet, you’d gag at the idea of writing Donghyuck into a song. 

You calm down and meet Renjun’s eyes, the glint of something familiar making you pause. 

“Water?” he offers, and you straighten.

“I had the stupidest thought,” you say, trying to laugh it off.

You can’t do it. You can’t make light of it with him.

“When do you not?” he says, a soft smile on his face.

You smile awkwardly in response, avoiding his eyes as you rub circles on the soft flesh between your thumb and forefinger. 

It’s quiet, much more than not, distant buzzing of the 3 a.m. university cafeteria crowds drifting through the space between you and him.

“Do you ever- Do you ever think about doing it?” Renjun asks.

You blink before feeling warmth on your cheeks. 

“Doing what, Renjun? That’s a little too private to ask. I mean, I could answer, of c—”

It doesn’t take long for him to burn bright vermillion at the cheeks. 

“I- I didn’t say that,” he defends, stuttering over the words. “I was talking about making music. Do you ever think about it or do you just do it?”

“Oh,” you respond intelligently, the embarrassment making you flush harder. Funny, you used to laugh the loudest at these sorts of mistakes. “I don’t- I don’t know. I think about it after I’ve… made it?”

You scratch the back of your head awkwardly. 

“You… do like it, don’t you?” he asks, something akin to worry in his eyes. 

You hum, smiling. “Of course I like it, Renjun.”

No. The truth is, you don’t even know how it makes you feel. The truth is, you do feel sick listening to your own song over and over again. Have you run far enough? Do you have to be running for this?

You seem scared. Is that what he wanted to tell you? You can’t be that easy to see through, you resist. When he held your hand earlier, could he feel it shake?

You’re so afraid that all of this is for naught that you can’t feel it anymore. You hardly make music for yourself, for no one else to hear. Is that what you wanted? When you wrote Not Feeling Spring, were you searching for something you desperately wanted or something you lost? You’re only twenty and you’re aging.

You snap yourself out of the whirlpool of questions to a drowsy Renjun playing with the bracelet around his wrist, lost in his own circle of thoughts. 

“I wanted to give up on this,” he whispers suddenly. “I wanted to give up on music.”

You hold your breath till he looks at you, a strange sense of vulnerability that makes you want to reach over the table and share some of the warmth your palm offers.

You’ve already drawn the conclusion.

“You’re not alone,” you say, leaning in with the widest grin. 

Renjun rolls his eyes. “Are you saying that to comfort me? It barely has any effect. Thanks, th—”

You shake your head, standing up abruptly and scrambling onto the tabletop. It’s the perfect time to be a little ridiculous. Renjun looks around, alarmed, tugging at you to get down which, unfortunately, draws even more attention. 

“Raise your hand if you’ve ever wanted to give up on music!”

There’s a moment of pause before laughter erupts, followed by a few cheers and almost as many raised hands as you’d expected. Some of them tell you to get back to your date, or focus on completing overdue assignments—friends and friends of friends. They are music students, after all.

Renjun looks around the place, rosy hued in the face, though he isn’t as angry as you thought he’d be.

“I almost never started,” you say, giggling as you resume in your seat. “Giving up came so much later.”

Renjun laughs. You don’t even have to make music out of it.

“I tried to give up the piano,” he admits, still flushed. “But I couldn’t break the habit of playing against my desk. Even then.”

You smile, resting your chin against your palm. “That sounds just like you. Now tell me, when did you discover flumpool?”

Renjun frowns and you feel an uncharacteristic thump in your chest. You want to draw your finger against his cheeks and the space between his brows, against the strained lines—the thought of it much more scandalous than the action itself.

“I didn’t- My parents didn’t- ugh.” He hesitates. “Look, everyone hated my style of music. My parents, the neighbours, their dogs. 

Your eyes soften as you sit up. “I’m sure they didn’t hate it—”

“No, trust me on this one.”

Suddenly the honey tint of his voice is dripping a dangerously low baritone. It doesn’t sound like him and it sends a shiver down your spine, a certain coldness you never thought would seep into you. It is the loneliness of curbed dreams, after all.  

“I thought I should’ve given up on music altogether. Became, what, a doctor? A lawyer?” Renjun sighs. “Whatever I do, it shouldn’t be music, right?”

He heaves a sigh in sync with you. There’s a passing moment in between where you can clearly see the apple of his eye, shining a daunting amber and a warmth you can only feel over coffee tables in university cafeterias at midnight. 

“But you’re here now because this is the closest you can be to music?” you offer, your smile sheepish.

Renjun laughs, your eyebrows furrowing as he tries to stop. “No. No, classical music was the last option on their list—but it was on the list.”

You smile, although it is small and gentle. And—unlike anything you’ve felt since you jumped onto the adulthood train.

“They like it now, though,” he beams, shoulders relaxing as if rid of a burden.“I mean- They said- They said they’re proud of me.”

When someone decides to confide their happiness to you, it is just as precious.

You look up, eyes bright as you finally get to ruffle his hair. “Well, I’m proud of you too!”

Renjun coughs indiscreetly, shaking his head before facing you. “Th-Thanks. It’s… good to hear.”

“Say it back,” you demand, making Renjun laugh.

“I’m… proud of you,” he says with rose-tinted cheeks.

The midnight chatter grows louder when the two of you pause. A symphony of voices through the area, higher pitches and lower, baritones and trebles. You wonder what people talk about most when you are quiet. You have friends—it’s not like you’re alone, per se. But everyone seems to be running, away from something or towards something. Your bones feel heavy for a second as you stir the coffee. Is it selfish to just want to get to know someone? Neither of you moving a muscle, with laughter that isn’t carried away by the wind.

“I didn’t think I’d be good at anything apart from classical,” he says, reluctance in his mouth. “Sorry about all that ruckus I caused when you asked me to join.”

You raise an eyebrow, nose wrinkling at the apology. “Renjun. It sucks when you apologize.”

He groans. “You’re really annoying, you know that? I was being nice.”

“I know,” you say, grinning. “It was all forgiven a long time ago. Can’t believe you had to say it out loud.”

“Oh, pardon me,” he says, voice rising. “I was taking into consideration your below average understanding of social cues.”

“You’re going to get smacked.”

That night, when you leave Renjun at the intersection to your respective dorms, you have yet another unwanted epiphany. He waves you goodbye with a smile, pale blue T-shirt hanging loose on his shoulders and you wave back as ardently as you can against your prominent heartbeat. Huang Renjun has the kindest eyes you’ve ever seen.

Some days, you take the bus together to and from classes. It’s not like the dorms are far but walks are considerably less fun when you’ve barely rubbed the sleep dust out of your eyes and class started ten minutes ago. Besides, you’re not letting the student bus pass go to waste.

Rattle. Rattle. Woosh.

You yawn and it quickly spreads to Renjun beside you. Classes are over and there’s no practice today. You can hear a popular song play through his earphones and tilt your head to look at him, a suppressed smile on your face. Renjun does a double take when he notices you, a little flustered as he quietly offers the other earbud and you put it on with a short word of thanks.

It is a track by one of Seoul’s favourite bands and you’re not going to lie, say you haven’t fallen prey to its charms. A catchy baseline, engaging drums and attractive vocals—you stop yourself. When was the last time you enjoyed a song without deconstructing it piece by piece? You sigh and Renjun shifts beside you, though no words part from his lips.

Absentmindedly, you find your head drawing nearer to his till they bump once and you startle away, only to laugh at each other. Is this another useless epiphany of yours? That Renjun has a lovely laugh—these are getting out of hand.

You look out the window instead, skyscrapers shiny and metallic as always and with little to offer. Unwittingly, a pout climbs onto your face at the prospect of feelings bubbling up right when you’re setting Renjun up on a date. He doesn’t know, of course. It’s meant to be a surprise and somehow, the little voice in your head won’t stop yelling at maximum volume inside your head about how wrong this is. Is it selfish? To an extent—nothing ever is purely selfless and you haven’t lived long enough to question. So why are you even bothering with this whole surprise?

Because you don’t want to think about the feelings. As if they’re things to be thought about. As if you can throw them away into the trash bin like a crumpled piece of paper.

An elderly couple boards the bus, sharing a large shopping bag as they take slow, careful steps over the aisle. Renjun responds almost at the same time you do, getting up so quickly Renjun has to hold on to the strap so as to not trip over you. The couple thanks you and you nod politely, trying not to bring attention to the earphones tangled around your necks.

You take a step closer in an attempt to separate the wires but it only makes you lose balance, Renjun clutching the cloth at your back so you don’t faceplant right into him. The other hand hangs overhead on the strap, grasping so tight his skin has turned red. 

He glances at the old couple once, blood rushing to his cheeks at something and he turns his focus back to you. 

“The- The wires- We should—”

Young love isn’t what this is. How silly. There’s enough of that all around.

“That’s what I was trying,” you interrupt. “Wait.”

You use your hands to pull the bud from your ear, trying to figure out how the loop even coiled this way. Renjun’s hand pushes against your waist at the sudden jerk, your soul almost leaving your body at the unexpected feeling of falling down. You breathe out, cheeks getting warmer. This isn’t quite uncomfortable, though.

When you look up to meet Renjun’s eyes, you feel something faint, a hint of something you can’t quite put your finger on.

“There,” you say, the wires all out of their miserable twining. 

Renjun barely nods, the music still blasting loud and clear through the buds. His hand still holds the strap for balance, and the other still holds you, for reasons private. 

There’s a warm flush over his face when he mumbles about crowded buses and the afternoon heat, eyes averted to every corner but you.

You laugh. Renjun is adorable when he least expects to be. And when you least expect him to be, he’s even terribly attractive. You swear by the way he’s looking at you, if you leaned in a little further, he’d let you kiss him. 

Wait, what?

You sober up quickly, in a moment of clarity you do not wish to have. You’ve never felt the weight of the feelings this intense. Yours isn’t the name he should be calling out so affectionately. Her. Anyone else. You were so sure of it. Huang Renjun’s fleeting interest in romance doesn’t involve you—cannot involve you.

That’s why you’re doing him (and yourself) a favour. Besides, you promised it anyway, didn’t you? 

You gulp. 

When did you start explaining yourself for everything you do?

Step, screech, step.

“Where the fuck are you even  taking me?” Renjun complains from behind you, light on his foot. “You said it’s not too far away.”

“It’s a surprise!” You stop walking to cross your arms.

“I hate it when you say that.”

How would he react? You think he’ll get a little angry, maybe scowl at you or even yell a little. You haven’t been able to look him in the eye longer than two seconds for about a week now. 

“Ta-da!” 

You stretch your arms to point towards the new cafe in town. Renjun looks at you and then the cafe and back again.

“You’re taking me on a coffee date?”

You choke on air, coughing before you can clear your throat and clarify.

“Not- Not me. Remember I promised you a date with—”

“No.”

“Yes! Wait, is that disbelieving no or are you saying you’re not going to go?”

Renjun closes his eyes and sighs, as if dealing with a toddler. “I’m not going. Why didn’t you say anything? I’m not prepared or anything!”

Something takes a tumble and falls inside your chest. You smile at him nevertheless.

“Don’t be shy now. She’s waiting, come on.”

Renjun shifts his weight from foot to foot, but it seems equally uncomfortable on each. He peers intently at you, looking up and down your face before pressing his lips together.

“Have fun,” you wish.

You push Renjun towards the door and he hesitates, some part of you expecting a little more resistance. He shrugs, although he seems to be holding back a smile. This isn’t the time, you tell yourself.

You turn on your heel before you lose your final excuse to be able to say that you are not completely enamored with Huang Renjun.

The afternoon would be more peaceful if it weren’t for Donghyuck and Renjun yelling at each other. This time, you’re not to blame.

“That’s not how you tie a bow tie!” Donghyuck complains, though Renjun won’t let him anywhere near.

“I know you’re trying to get back at me for drawing on your face last Saturday,” Renjun yells back. “But this is the pre-annual concert. You’re not fucking anything up.”

Donghyuck grumbles before settling down. Four music performance majors and yet none of them know how to do a bow tie—if it weren’t for you, Renjun might have ended up with his usual askew one. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking, and you’d just rather not look at him too long anyway. 

Formal white shirt, a much debated black bow tie and polished black dress shoes on Renjun aren’t strange to look at—in fact, they quite suit him when, despite its striking colour, his hair is parted neatly to the side. But they’re all so out of place in the bandroom, monochrome against messes, that you start to wonder if you simply think too much about him. That all of his colours and melodies are just there for you to notice.

It’s not true, of course.

But when did you become a cynic? 

“I’m going out,” Donghyuck says, huffing, “Why are they taking so long to buy ramen?”

Oh no. No, no, no. You try to mask your panic. Is one person enough to check up on Jaemin and Jeno? Would it be weird if you left too? Before you can answer those questions, you and Renjun are the only ones left in the room. You stand awkwardly by the couch, Renjun a few feet away, smoothing out the creases on his shirt.

You clear your throat, bringing his attention to you.

Nice going.

“So how was your date?”

You had to ask that, didn’t you?

The voice in your head has never been so loud before. When your question goes unanswered, you look up from the highly interesting floorboards to Renjun trying very hard to fight a snort.

“We talked about the recitals, extra lessons. Joked about you being an idiot.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “What?”

“Chaerim’s not interested in guys.” Renjun laughs. “I thought you knew!”

There’s a pause.

“Wait, you were serious about setting me up with her?”

You stare a little too intensely at the space between your feet. Why would you choose now of all times to be coy? You keep yourself from swearing out loud.

“I- I didn’t know, okay?”

You feel the heat over your cheeks, the sound of everything other than your own heartbeat drowning out. A few more seconds pass and you worry more. 

“Don’t set me up on dates,” Renjun says, a sigh leaving his lips. “It’ll never work out.”

“What? Why?”

Renjun falters only to cover it up. “I- I… Why do you keep avoiding me?”

You can’t answer that.

“Setting me up on a date, never looking at me when you talk to me—are you going by the book or something?”

You hold your breath. He’s not misunderstanding and it only makes matters worse.

“All that because you don’t want to be in love with me?”

“Renjun, that’s not—”

“So what is it?”

You look up from your restless fingers and regret it almost immediately. The way Renjun looks at you, it damn near breaks your heart. His nose is a pale shade of red, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down with undecided words.

“Am I- Am I dreaming everything up? Just tell me you don’t like me. I thought I made myself obvious.”

You can feel your pulse against your eardrums, ready to burst open any second.

“Renjun. It’s not about this,” you say, voice strangely low. “It’s about music—It’s always about music. I can’t risk anything.”

“Risk? What risk? You’re afraid you’re going to stop making music when you’re with me?”

“No—”

“You just want your songs on the Billboard charts? 

“And what if I do? I just want to be heard—”

You can barely breathe at the lack of distance between the two of you. Renjun looks straight into your eyes and you remember why your heart has been hammering in the first place.

“So it isn’t about music.”

You fall silent. It’s not wrong to want to succeed. But it’s never been about that. You were preparing yourself for a race while you repeated your love for it that was never there. Music is not a race and so, it is not the race you love.

“I didn’t want to be rich or famous,” Renjun says, voice lower than usual. “I don’t want to be rich or famous.”

But a musician does not want to be forgotten, does he?

For once, Renjun is fearless and you are not.

“There are worse things,” Renjun says, breath against your cheek and a rapid pulsing in your wrists. You look from his eyes to lips before breathing out slowly, eyelids growing heavy despite yourself.

The sudden bang makes the two of you jump away from each other.

Donghyuck kicks the door open, hands occupied with steaming instant ramen cups and Jeno walks in with the sprite. 

“Jaemin’s paying and we forgot our wallets,” Jeno offers an explanation when you raise an eyebrow.

You clear your throat awkwardly as the two scrutinize you with eyes you’re not yet ready to meet. You know you’ll never hear the end of this and better yet, you can pretend it never happened.

“Aren’t you supposed to get going?” Jeno asks, struggling to balance this month’s entire supply of ramen while Donghyuck holds the top of the pile.

Renjun responds with a soft ‘yeah’, eyes glancing at you once before he grabs his coat.

“I’ll see you for practice then.”

With that, the sounds inside your chest draw to a deafening close.

You’d think Doyoung would perform with his own band at his brother’s wedding.

(“I don’t want to work on the day my brother gets married.”

“I thought you work as a bartender?”

“Oh, dear.”)

You’re not complaining, of course. The longer you spend in the bandroom, the more suffocated you feel. You can’t meet Renjun’s eyes and neither can he meet yours. You rejected him, for fuck’s sake. It cannot get any more awkward than that. Any distraction will do.

This might be the first time you’ve been to a wedding on a Thursday night. At the very least, you’re happy about it being an outdoor wedding, the cool night air refreshing you the moment you step into the garden. It’s fairly large and you know Doyoung’s brother is an actor, but it never really struck you how wealthy that meant.

“There’s a chocolate fountain?!” Donghyuck gasps, walking towards it before Jaemin grabs him by the collar.

“Stage. We’re being called.”

Donghyuck massages his neck before he decides to give everyone an unnecessary pep talk.

“Look, Renjun, you better sing like that’s your ex, who you’re still in love with, getting married,” Donghyuck turns to advise a deadpanning Renjun.

“I- what? You should do that yourself.”

You smile at them encouragingly, smacking Donghyuck a little too hard on the back (you need payback for him “borrowing” your lunch on Monday) and stand at the sidelines. Donghyuck’s guitar seems to be the brightest thing in the venue, followed by Renjun’s hair. Unfortunately for Jeno, they couldn’t get the whole drum set in and the puppy dog look on his face when he sees the box-shaped cajón might have affected you some other day. 

They perform as usual, if not more enthusiastic to be in front of a crowd that isn’t drunk or worn out or both. The love songs you wrote came to be useful, after all. The muse of them, however, stands out even now.

This time, your heart skips a beat to meet Renjun’s eyes. And he doesn’t take them off you the entire performance.

The soft vibrato of his voice doesn’t fade easy, the crowd clapping along to the song with encouraging laughter. You move to the drinks table—it’s a good thing the wedding has a no kids rule because there’s alcohol you haven’t heard of at the bar table. Or maybe it isn’t a good thing. You’d love to see the look on Doyoung’s face when some rebellious twelve year-old chugs a shot of vodka. The thought makes you giggle.

You keep your word, even if you were drunk when you’d said it. You didn’t drink at any of the gigs, mostly because Doyoung wouldn’t offer anything for free, but a deal’s a deal. This doesn’t count, does it? 

You take the shot after a few moments of contemplation. You’d ordered it on impulse and whatever dare of whim you have left in you.

Unbeknownst to you, the songs had stopped about five minutes ago, enough time for Renjun and the rest to appear at your side. 

“Doyoung never said there’d be alcohol,” Donghyuck says, not trying very hard to hide the sparkles in his eyes.

Renjun doesn’t say a word, not even at the obvious flush over your cheeks from the drinks.

“I need to go to the washroom,” you say, wobbling as you stand.

“Woah, (name),” Jaemin says, steadying you. “Take someone with you.”

“I’ll go.”

You avoid Renjun’s eyes, even now. Looks like shame isn’t as easy to wash away as it seems.

You can’t hear anything apart from your pulse, a rather disarming thing to have to listen to when it’s for long enough. You walk wordlessly to the building, locating the washroom after a few twists and turns and Renjun waits patiently for you outside.

It’s always bizarre to see yourself in the mirror of a public washroom, especially with alcohol in your system and a flush over your cheeks that you think makes you look cute. You rinse your face and dry it before you exit.

Renjun leans back against the wall, eyes glazed over in thoughts he spills only occasionally. He looks gentle in the fairly lit hallway, under lemon-coloured lights. 

“Renjun,” you call absentmindedly.

He straightens immediately and for the first time in a while, you stare at each other for longer than four seconds.

“I don’t want you to feel awkward around me,” you begin. “I didn’t- I didn’t mean—”

“Cut it out.”

You feel a drop in your heart at the harshness in his tone. Even so, you don’t feel any less drawn to him.

“Don’t be like that,” you say, voice nearing a whine. “You know I’m not any good at this. I… I have so much work to do.”

“Are you so insecure that you can't trust yourself?” he hisses, and somehow the truth of it doesn’t lessen the euphoria of proximity with him.

“You have pretty eyes, Renjun,” you say, but his eyes are not what you’re looking at.

Renjun looks down, sighing out heavily. “Stop this, (name). Don’t play.”

You smile. “This isn’t a drama, you know?”

It really isn’t, but the touch you're craving has been collecting, drip drip drip, and now it’s ready to boil over in a climax befitting any stupid drama. There should be a soundtrack to go with it, right? Renjun’s face so near to yours, lips full and pink, and heartbeat erratic under dim lights. Temptation has never been a sin to you. Then, what are you afraid of?

For a moment, Arctic Monkey’s Snap Out of It loops in your head.

“Can I kiss you?” you ask, the last shred of your senses fallen apart.

He falls silent, at a loss for words you don’t want to hear.

You can’t blame the alcohol. It’s not that you wouldn’t do this sober—it’s that you would definitely do this sober, and all would be ruined just like that. So now, while you’re under the thinly veiled excuse of being drunk, you might as well say it.

“I want to kiss you,” you repeat, bolder.

Oh, sudden proximity can make you aware of so many things. For instance, Renjun has changed his cologne, less minty and more citrus. You aren’t even looking at him when you lean closer, pressing your lips softly and yet carelessly against his. You feel returned pressure and for a moment, the wash of numbness.

Renjun pulls you away by the shoulder, eyes wide in panic. 

“I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Why are you apologizing? God, I hate you. I could listen to you speaking forever.”

You bury your face in Renjun’s neck and breathe in. He gives in almost too soon, a hand gently resting against the back of your head while his arm wraps around your waist.

“Let’s get you home,” he whispers. 

You feel him shift, the rhythm of his pulse loud in his jugular, and somehow it makes you breathe a sigh of relief. The night fades little by little into the chatter of crowds, to the the hum of a car engine and finally, to the inevitable quiet of your own bedroom.

It’s a Friday. They’re supposed to be nice.

Of course, it would be were it not for a list of things. One: your fading hangover. Two: the vague regret of a drunk kiss. Three: your friends you can’t tell a word to. You might just die of shame before the autumnal existential dread settles in.

“Do you guys have any idea whose number this is?” Donghyuck asks, holding the handkerchief open for the rest of you to see. “I don’t want to be accidentally related to Doyoung hyung.”

The night is bleeding into the evening outside as Jaemin stands up to flip the light switches. You stay curled up at one side of the couch, Renjun by the keys as he tries to figure out a tune and a state of calm that would be perfect if you weren’t falling apart inside. The bandroom always made you feel at ease, but it doesn't seem to be working its charm now.

“You drink too much,” Jaemin states. “You would’ve remembered if you didn’t have an entire bottle of soju.”

“I wasn’t the only one,” he defends, sending you a pointed look. You roll your eyes. Donghyuck never did learn to take the blame.

“Didn’t Renjun and (name) leave early?” Jeno asks innocently. “What were you guys doing for so long by the washroom?”

Renjun presses on several of the keys at a force too hard, the haphazard symphony bringing everyone’s attention to him.

He awkwardly clears his throat. “Home—the dorms, er. We went back. Taeil hyung drove us.”

You don’t know about the atmosphere, but you could definitely cut something with a knife right now. Your eyes shift from person to person, nothing unusual about them except for the two of you.

“Does anyone want to come get ramen? I’m hungry,” Jaemin suggests quietly.

Jeno shrugs, getting up.

“I just had a cup of ramen,” Donghyuck begins before breaking into a smile. “Too much ramen can never hurt.”

“I’ll pass,” you say, ready to fall asleep any moment, if it somehow alleviates the messy scribbles in your head.

“Me too,” Renjun says, back to playing out the tunes softly.

Your fingers tap against the armrest of the couch, occasionally scratching it out of boredom. The atmosphere is still just as thick but you can't say much about it hanging there.

“You’re not sleeping,” Renjun says suddenly, more of a statement than a question. “You look tired.”

“Yeah.” It’s all you can manage. 

“Is your hangover gone?”

You cough when you try to answer, getting more nervous with each passing moment.

Renjun slowly walks towards the coffee table, picking up the bottle of water to offer it to you. You utter a short ‘thanks’ and before he can get back, you tug at his sleeve. Your breathing is sharp but you don’t react much when he sits beside you, legs outstretched in front of him.

“Your roots are showing,” you note, hand involuntarily reaching out before you stop yourself.

Renjun sighs. “What’s wrong? You don’t- You don’t have to—”

He clears his throat.

“—You don’t have to pretend around me.”

There’s a rustle of cloth as he shifts to turn to you, eyes concerned when they look over.

“I’m just...sad,” you admit, the feeling weighing down when you do. “What, you never have days like these?”

Everyone does, don’t they? The truth is, sometimes you get a little sick listening to your songs. If you don’t hate it at least once, is it worth it at all?

The monthly breakdowns have taken a hard turn now that you don’t have much to do. No exams, no more weekly gigs due to Odd Fruit’s renovation and most importantly, hardly any inspiration. You don’t know how to do things unless you’re on the run. It’s so stupid.

You speak of dreams and yet, yours feel void.

“I do. A lot, some weeks.”

Renjun hesitates. You know he’s dying to talk about last night, he’s never been the sort to let feelings rot inside his stomach. But how do you tell him that despite knowing life’s full of ups and downs, no one’s bothered to explain to you which is which? You’ve never lived life with clarity. 

Sometimes life hands you tangerines instead of lemons. Sometimes they’re still as sour.

You look back at Renjun, heart churning with feelings you don’t understand. From wide eyes to his full lips, there’s a way you can’t help but stare. It wasn’t the alcohol—you still want to kiss him. Maybe you should start with an apology, maybe those are meant to be said out loud sometimes.

“I’m sorry I… I ‘m sorry I kissed you,” you say, finally. “Without warning.”

You wonder how you turned into this. Head over heels for something that might not even be real. 

“I’m not mad,” he mumbles, “Just don’t go around kissing strangers.”

You let out a short laugh, rubbing your arm. It’s not like you to explain yourself but for him, you’d spill every single thought that crosses your head. Does he know that? You’d never let him but now—you can’t say you mind.

Quiet.

“I- I may not always know what I’m doing, Renjun,” you start. “I want things and I don’t know how to get them. Sometimes I don’t even know what I truly want.”

There’s a short pause when Renjun draws nearer.

“You want to make music,” he says with certainty, gaze trailing over your eyes, then nose, then lips. “You want to have fun…”

Your heartbeat quickens despite everything.

“...And right now, you want to kiss me.”

It’s partly the confidence, and partly the fact that his lips are less than three inches from yours, that you close the gap without hesitation. 

It’s different—of course, it’s different this time. There’s no goddamn alcohol and the amount of clarity you can taste with your mouths pressed together is more than you’ve ever had. All the sounds in the world fall silent, replaced by the rhythm of your lips moving against his. Renjun’s hair is soft and he hums when you run your fingers through them, not song enough but still full of melody.

You pull apart after a few minutes, breathing heavily before you push your lips against him again, rising to keep your leg on either side of him. For a moment, there’s a sinking feeling and then a soaring one, and it evens out to the mellow drumming of your heart against your chest as Renjun holds your waist with the same delicate desire as ever. 

The second time you pull apart, Renjun breaks into the widest smile you’ve ever seen on him. You can’t help but reciprocate, burying your head against his shoulder.

“I think you should get off me.”

You pull back, frowning severely. 

“Oh, that’s very romantic,” you huff, eyebrows furrowed as you move to sit beside him, crossing your arms. 

“Hey.”

You look at him and he takes your hand in his, thumb rubbing over the back. Somehow, the gesture calms a part of you down, a part that hasn’t been calm for a very long time. You smile without realizing, leaning in for another kiss when the door slams open.

You yelp, clutching Renjun’s hand harder with just about the same force he does. 

“Jeno.”

You turn around to see Jaemin glaring at Jeno on his knee, Donghyuck fallen over his leg and both of their faces scrunched in pain. Jaemin shoots the two of you an embarrassed smile, scratching the back of his head.

“Did you guys know this room isn’t all that soundproof? I can’t believe the neighbours didn’t complain.”

The tip of Renjun’s ears flare red, and he points an accusing finger at the three of them.

“You were spying on us!”

Jaemin clears his throat but Donghyuck snorts before he can say anything.

“You’re still holding hands, lover boy.”

The statement flusters Renjun further but he doesn’t let go.

“Look, did the two of you think we’re stupid?” Donghyuck continues. “God, we thought your pining romance would, like, break up our band or something.”

You flush deeper, averting your eyes. 

“You cry at romantic comedies,” Renjun provokes.

Donghyuck stutters something incomprehensive before crossing his arms indignantly.

“We’re glad you’re dating now!” Jaemin butts in. “Ah, I can’t wait for all the love songs. The two of you do great on those!”

Renjun turns a brighter shade of red. You’re not going to be the one to tell Jaemin that he’s not helping at all but you sigh instead, resting your forehead against Renjun’s shoulder. 

“Ugh,” Donghyuck makes a gagging sound. “Does this mean you’re going to be all heart eyes in here? Right in front of my innocent eyes?” 

He shuts up when he receives four glares all at once, the air turning dry.

“I’m guessing you guys didn’t buy any ramen,” Renjun says, sighing.

“Shall we go?” you ask, looking at him.

He nods, smiling at you.

“You guys don’t mind us crashing your date, do you?” Jaemin says, wrapping an arm each around the two of you.

“I’m not complaining.” You shrug.

“I heard there’s a new flavour. Tastes like crap apparently,” Renjun says.

There’s collective laughter and Renjun beams, walking over to the door with you in tow. Every once in a while, you don’t mind peeling off the layers of a tangerine, especially since winter is near. 

You were right, Renjun did change his perfume to something more citrus-y. It’s the little things that build up in simplicity and it’s the little things that give everything flavour, from songs to journeys. 

Crackle. Shrrk. Rustle. 

“Dream,” you say, the noodles slipping through the chopsticks. 

The others look at you quizzically, as if you’d suggested the most ridiculous thing ever.

“That’s the name. Our band!” 

Under the convenience store lights, it somehow makes sense—and that’s one of the only moments of clarity you need.

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Fancy Paper Napkins

because doesn’t everybody eat their fancy meals with fancy paper napkins ...

Our Moments: Chapter 1: Five Words (post-Leonard Betts) Chapter 2: Sidebar Nonsense (post-Memento Mori) Chapter 3: Interim (floating somewhere around Unrequited) Chapter 4: Max 2.0 (post-Tempus Fugit/Max) Chapter 5: Shadowed Grey Eyes Chapter 6: The Warmest Thing I Own Chapter 7: Fancy Paper Napkins @today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

He actually slept, his mind calm, until he heard her whispering in his ear, “what are you cooking and when will it be ready?”

Opening his eyes, he saw hers staring at him, awake and bright, “what?”

“I’m hungry and I saw the crockpot plugged in.”

He broke into a grin, more from her proximity than anything else and forcing himself not to look at her mouth, not to think of that kiss, “mushrooms. Garlicy, buttery mushrooms that have been slow cooking in the crockpot,” looking over her head at the clock, “for four hours.” Sitting up quickly, “shit. I have to go stir them.”

Rolling off the bed, he disappeared down the hall, Scully close behind, “they won’t burn.”

“I’ll feel better when I see for myself.” Finally in the kitchen, he opened the crockpot, stirred with the big spoon, and glad to see the mushrooms soft and unburned, offered Scully a taste. Refusing with an, ‘I’d like to wait for dinner,’ he nodded towards the fridge, “go grab the steak, would you?”

They ate like civilized people, at the kitchen table, forks, knives, fancy paper napkins …

… “I refuse to use cloth ones because they’re too damn hard to clean.”

… “Did I say anything?”

… “No.”

… “Then why are you arguing at me?”

and a bottle of not-so-cheap wine Mulder found in his travels through Scully’s cupboards.

“I shouldn’t drink this.”

“Will it lower your inhibitions? Will you sweep off the coffee table and dance on it if I wave a bunch of ones at you? Will you tell me all your secrets?”

She couldn’t keep her hand from shaking as she poured them both glasses, “mostly I’m thinking that it’ll make me fall asleep even early that I probably would have already.”

Ignoring the tremor, “as long as you stay awake enough for ice cream.”

“I will do my best.”

She made it through half the steak, a bowl of mushroom, and three spoons of mashed potatoes, before finally giving in, trading her plate for Mulder’s empty, who continued to eat without pause. Watching him, she had to smile, “thank you.”

“For finishing your food? No problem.”

Not able to articulate at that particular moment that she was actually thanking him for a thousand things at once, she simply agreed, wondering if he’d figure it out on his own, “yeah, I wouldn’t want it to go to waste.”

Giving her a grin, he finished her food, then stood, “give me ten minutes to do dishes and put everything away, then we’ll argue about movies.”

“Let me load the dishwasher, at least. You won’t do it right and I’ll just have to redo it when you’re not looking.” Standing as well, she bumped hips with him as she walked past, “save me the trouble.”

Twisting up his leg, he hit her on the butt with his stocking foot, “smartass.”

They finally settled on several movies but still sitting on the couch, facing a blank TV and a window with a sunset just beginning to tint the room pink, Mulder gently poked her in the side, “how’re you doing?”

Feeling the urge to move, to take advantage of feeling okay for the moment, “I think I’d like to go for a walk.”

Up immediately, he leaned in, kissing the tip of her nose, “any destination in mind?”

“Just … around.”

“Around it is.”

&&&&&&&&&

Warm enough to wander without jackets, they headed out her front door and turned left, bare arm brushing bare arm as they walked. They didn’t say much, commenting on scurrying squirrels here, a cute cat in the window there, Mulder catching a waywardly stumbling child tripping past, “geez, if I had known we were going to be experiencing a Norman Rockwell painting, I would have combed my hair and put on a clean shirt.”

Her laughter hit his ears like his favorite song and reaching over, he took her hand, never asking, never letting go as they circled and turned, ambled and veered. She didn’t argue, her thin, cool fingers enjoying his warmth.

But even on her best days lately, she gave in quicker than she’d have liked, 45 being the magic number of minutes she lasted until, “I think I’m ready for some ice cream.”

Giving her hand a squeeze, “ice cream it is. What kind should we start with?”

Discussion ensued and by the time they were in their pajamas, they’d settled on dark fudge and peanut butter swirl to begin with. Two spoons dove in, two spoons sampled, occasionally Scully would pull her loaded spoon out and looking at Mulder, found his mouth wide open, waiting expectantly.

And by God, she fed him.

The first time felt a little weird but by the third time he did it, she was laughing, “can you not feed yourself fast enough?”

“Nope.”

That was good enough for her.

Once the gorging finished, they’d had at least one spoonful out of each carton Mulder had bought, six in all, the flavors running the gambit and Scully full and happy and sleepy. “Are you going to be able to sleep with all that sugar in your system?”

Mulder grinned, chocolate rimming his lips, “if not, I’ll have a TV to keep me company while you drool all over your pillow.” A relieved sigh, one she didn’t know she was holding, escaped, and Mulder cocked his head, suddenly worried, “y’a’right?”?”

And deciding there was no reason not to tell him, “I think I was nervous you were going to go home tonight and,” another sigh, this one embarrassed, “it’s been a really nice day and if you went home, it would be over and,” slight wobbly smile appearing, “I don’t want it to be over just yet.”

Knowing something funny was in order, he raised an eyebrow in her direction, “is that some veiled attempt at asking me to move in here?”

Her smile steadied, “just go start the movie.”

&&&&&&&&&

Midnight rolled around and even though Scully had given in and gone to bed, Mulder was still awake and indeed watching TV, some cooking show he’d never admit to enjoying but enjoyed nonetheless. The sound was off and suddenly, the quiet of the darkened apartment was broken by Scully calling from the bedroom, “Mulder?”

It didn’t sound like a nightmare which, in his mind, could only mean she needed help. Jogging down the hall, he was in her doorway a second later, “yeah? You okay?”

Still laying down, she met his nervous gaze, her own a unique brand of terrified confusion, “am I still here?”

Immediately walking to the other side of the bed, he crawled under the covers, his hand meeting her cheek after she rolled over to face him, “yeah. You’re right here, in your bed.” When her terror didn’t fade, he continued, quieter, moving to meet her forehead with his, “you’re with me, in your apartment,” hand moving to the back of her neck, “whatever you dreamt wasn’t real.”

“It will be.” Feeling the bed shake as she hitched a silent sob, she managed a cracked whisper, “I don’t want to die.” Her fingers ran over his cheek, his ear, “I don’t want to go anywhere without you.”

The tear escaped before he could blink it away but he kept the others in, reservoir full but holding, “we’re gonna beat this. I guarantee it.”

She couldn’t bring herself to believe him anymore and she couldn’t keep up the lie at this hour, “you don’t know that.”

“But I choose to believe it.” Hand in her hair by now, he pulled her close enough that their noses were smushed together and eyelashes tangled, “I need to believe it.”

Maybe she could pretend a little more after all, “do you believe enough for both of us?”

“I believe enough for this whole damn world. You should know that by now.”

She could only nod against him, bringing their mouths to millimeter distances but refraining, crippling fear not a good enough reason to cross the line between them, “can you stay right here with me, tonight?”

He crossed it for them, a quick brush of lips, a quick nuzzle of noses, “I won’t move until you do.”

“I don’t want you to leave me alone.”

Both knew the translation of that:

I don’t want to die alone.

&&&&&&&&

The next morning, Scully opened her eyes to find Mulder still sharing her pillow, not touching anymore but close enough to have him blurry in front of her instead of clear. For five seconds, she forgot her world and felt warm fuzzies chasing through her, up and down her spine, settling low.

Then, reality set in with a resounding thud.

Pulling back, she sat up, turning quickly so he wouldn’t see the tears racing down her face. Neither could ignore the echoing sob, however and Mulder, already half-awake, sat up, confusion clearing in a heartbeat as he slid across the mattress, arm around her front, hugging her back to his chest. Kissing her neck and that hated, fucking scar, “we’re gonna win. I swear to God, we’re gonna win.”

And they cried together.

[bellafarallones2]

From the meet uglies prompt list:

84. I’m not entirely sure who you are but we’ve been in a massive prank war ever since your first prank on your friend went awry and I was covered in paint

For JakeHollis, please? Sfw or nsfw! This screams them to me!

JakeHollis, SFW, very light angst, some absolutely weird vibes! QueerElfClub's Hollis cosplay is my headcanon for them always and forever

All told, Jake’s first day at Kepler High hadn’t been too bad. Barclay and Dani had told him roughly what to expect, including a rapid rundown of the Earth history he’d be looked at strangely for not knowing. So far, math was his favorite class, because it was the same as on Silvain. Mama had gotten him into something called AP BC Calculus, which seemed like far too many acronyms for a class about shapes. His next most favorite class was PE.

Now it was almost three, and the final bell had rung. Packing up his backpack had taken so much time that the hallways were mostly empty, and he wandered idly, looking for the exit. Barclay was supposed to be picking him up somewhere called the ��kiss and ride,” though Jake had been assured kissing was not mandatory. No signs pointed the way, and Jake knew better than to ask someone for directions. Teenagers were the same everywhere.

He found himself in a wing of the school none of his classes had been in, passing rooms labeled ORCHESTRA and BAND and COLOR GUARD EQUIPMENT STORAGE. The sound of music came through the walls.

Finally, though - miracle of miracles! - he saw the light of day, and hurried towards the door it was coming from. The door was even cracked open, and Jake pushed it open the rest of the way and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

Something hit his head.

Something that made a klang noise against his skull, and he thought for a moment his head had cracked - he didn’t know how fragile these disguises were - but no, there was something else dripping through his hair and down his face and down all over his new colorful jacket. He looked down. It was white and foul-smelling, and when he blinked his eyelashes clumped and stuck together.

Jake was fairly certain neither Dani nor Barclay had mentioned this. He could barely see, just the edges of a person saying oh fuck, I’m so sorry, I thought you were Keith, and tugging him back into the school, which was not at all where he wanted to go.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” the voice said, and Jake found himself in a restroom, without even the time to make sure it was the correct one - he needed to be in one called BOYS or MEN, or the one with a little outline of a person without a skirt. or GENTLEMEN. (Barclay knew a long list of things he’d seen printed on bathroom doors.)

But here he was, and he bent to the sink to wash his face and came up dripping. Then he repeated the introduction he’d given so many times already today.

“I’m Jake,” he said. “Dani’s brother.” (People knew Dani; she’d graduated only two years earlier. He told teachers he was Barclay’s brother. Barclay was a little older, but a better student than Dani had been.)

“Oh,” said the person. “I think I had an art class with her. I’m Hollis.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Hollis had curly black hair and brown skin, and the sleeves of their shirt were tattered like they’d been cut off and not hemmed afterwards. When they rubbed at the stuff on Jake’s sleeve with a wet paper towel he could see the fine line of muscle beneath the skin in their arm.

Jake took a deep breath. “Do you think you could point me towards the kiss and ride?”

By the time Jake climbed into Barclay’s truck, he was as clean as one could get with hand soap and paper towels.

“How was your first day?” said Barclay, tactfully not saying anything about the paint.

“Fine. I’m really glad you and Dani told me so much about what to expect. But when I was trying to find my way out at the end of the day a bucket of paint fell on my head.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Someone helped me clean up, though. Their name’s Hollis. I think we’re friends now?”

“Well, that’s nice.”

“One girl in my homeroom brought in brownies to share with everybody because it was her birthday. Are you allowed to do that even if it’s not your birthday?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“Can I bring in cupcakes tomorrow? The ones you make are really good and I think people would like me if I gave them some.”

Barclay looked over at him, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll make you some cupcakes.”

--

The cupcakes were gorgeous. Each was as the platonic ideal of what a cupcake should be, the cupcake held before the fire to cast a shadow in Plato’s confectionary cave. The cake part was delicate and moist and yellow, and the frosting was pink, dusted with rainbow sprinkles.

“Oh,” said Jake’s homeroom teacher when she saw him come in carrying the lovingly packed tray. Barclay had put crumpled saran wrap between each cupcake so they wouldn’t knock into each other. “Is it your birthday, Jake?”

“Nope! But I brought cupcakes for everyone.”

“Alright,” said the teacher. “You can start passing them out now, if you’d like.”

Jake held out the tray to each person in the first few rows in turn, receiving varyingly sincere ‘thank you’s in return. But sitting in the back corner by the window was Hollis, and when Jake got to them, he didn’t hold out the tray. No, he selected the most perfect cupcake there was, cupped its soft bottom, and shoved the perfect pink frosting into Hollis’ perfect face.

“Oops,” Jake said sweetly.

“Jake!” said the teacher. “What do you think you’re doing!?”

But Hollis was already laughing, wiping pink frosting off their face and licking it off their fingers. “It’s fine, Ms. B., we’re in a prank war.”

“Well, please refrain from waging it in my classroom!”

“I’m sorry,” said Jake. He’d never heard the phrase prank war before, but the word war he didn’t like at all. War was the slowly narrowing boundaries of habitable land, war was an enemy that was somehow both inuman and implacably angry.

The boy sitting to Hollis’ left was looking up at Jake with something like shock and anger in his face. Looking away, Jake held out the plate of cupcakes to him so he could select his own.

--

Jake still had trouble finding the cafeteria, and so most of the students were seated when he arrived. He was scanning looking for a seat where he wouldn’t be intruding on someone else’s friend group when Hollis’ waving hand caught his attention. “Yo, Jake! Come sit with us?”

Jake hurried over. Before he reached the table Hollis elbowed the boy who was sitting next to them, the same one who’d been next to them in homeroom, and he scooted hurriedly over into the next seat so Jake could sit next to Hollis.

“Hello,” Jake said, nodding at each person at the table.

“This is Jake,” said Hollis. “He got me good in homeroom with a cupcake to the face.”

The others at the table laughed.

“Jake, this is Keith, Madison, and Ty,” Hollis continued, indicating the boy who’d been displaced, a girl with purple streaks in her long brown hair, and a boy with a mullet.

“Nice to meet you,” said Jake. He listened to them talk as he unpacked the lunch Barclay had packed him. A sandwich on part of a baguette, a chocolate-chip cookie, a honeycrisp apple (Jake had just been on earth long enough to have opinions about the different varieties of apples), and a note reminding him that Barclay loved him and wanted him to have a good day.

His tablemates were discussing what they were going to do over the weekend. Ty suggested going to Walmart, which was shot down on the grounds that they’d done that last weekend. No one’s parents were out of town, which eliminated the possibility of a house party.

“There’s nothing to do,” Madison whined.

“Can you drive places?” Jake asked.

Everyone went quiet. “Yep,” said Hollis. “When Madison’s parents let her use the car.”

It was Jake’s first autumn on earth, and from his bedroom window on the second floor of Amnesty Lodge he could see the leaves changing colors, red and orange and yellow between the bristles of the evergreens. “You could drive around and look at leaves. I’d like to come along, if that’s alright.”

Everyone was silent, deciding whether that was the lamest thing they’d ever heard or so lame it went straight through the other side into being kind of a good idea again.

“Fuck it,” said Hollis finally. “Let’s do it. And of course you’re invited, Jake, let me add you to the group chat.”

--

That Saturday, a silver Honda pulled up in front of Amnesty Lodge. Madison was at the wheel, Ty in the front passenger seat, and Keith sulking in the back. Behind it was a sleek motorcycle, and the rider’s helmet reflected the autumn leaves above.

Hollis pulled off their helmet. Their hair was disheveled and gorgeous. “If it was five of us in the car someone would have had to sit in the middle back, and that sucks,” they said. “Hop on, Jake.” They were holding out a second helmet.

“Um,” said Jake, offering them a bottle of sparkling cider with gold foil around the neck. “I brought something for us to drink?” The agreement had been that they would drive to one of the pull-off spots along the highway and have drinks there.

“Sweet,” said Hollis. “Put it in the back of the car?”

When Jake opened the back door of the car he saw a case of white claw on the seat next to Keith. “Was I supposed to bring alcohol?” Jake said. “I could have.” There was wine at the lodge; sometimes on the weekends Mama and Barclay went wine-tasting together, because Dani’s ID said she wasn’t old enough.

“No, Jake, you’re fine,” Hollis said. “Climb on.”

Jake fit the helmet over his head and climbed onto the smooth leather seat of the motorcycle behind Hollis. “Hold on tight,” said Hollis.

The motorcycle roared to life like one of Silvain’s larger beasts. Then it leaped forward, swerving hard to veer around Madison’s parents’ car. Jake swallowed a shriek and held on tighter. He could no longer feel the soft fabric of Hollis’s shirt, only the beast beneath them and the wind tearing at their jackets and the red, orange, and yellow leaves racing by above.

By the time they reached the appointed meeting place the others weren’t even in sight.

“So,” said Hollis when they pulled their helmet off. “What brings you to Kepler?”

Jake knew how to lie, when presented with questions like this. But with Hollis they found they didn’t want to. “I got kicked out of my old school.”

Hollis’s eyebrows went up.

“For… stealing.” Stealing food, because his family’s traditional hunting grounds had been corrupted by the Quell, and everyone else had barely enough for themselves. The huge mounds of apples in the grocery store in Kepler were the first thing to convince him he’d been exiled to paradise.

“Damn, Jake. And here I thought you were so wholesome.”

Jake threw up a hang-ten. “Nah, I’m a real bad boy.”

“Are you… with anyone? From your old school?”

“Nope. Are you?”

“Nah.” Hollis took a deep breath. It was the first time Jake had noticed them breathing. Human beings had to breathe so frequently, he’d found, and he sometimes forgot to until his lungs reminded him. His old body had been able to hold its breath for over an hour, collapsing his lungs so he was sleekness against the water inside and out. Incompressible.

“Wanna make out?” said Hollis.

“Yeah,” said Jake.

Hollis leaned in and kissed him. The best part was how warm their lips were, how warm their face was, right up close to his. No, scratch that. The best part was how they smelled, a smell Jake hadn’t encountered on earth up to that point but knew now he could never get enough of. No, the best part was -

Tires on gravel. Jake startled, but Hollis didn’t stop kissing him, even as Madison honked the horn on her parents’ car.

To Jake, that was the most surprising thing, that Hollis would want to kiss him in front of their friends. Teenagers were the same everywhere.

[buttercandy16]

Desert Rose

Pairings: Sam (Desierto) x reader

Genre: Dark, Thriller

Summary: 

While trying to pass through the US border you and your sickly little brother along with a group of Mexican migrants encounter a deadly fate in the hands of a merciless, deranged vigilante and his faithful but vicious Malinois dog. What happens when the said vigilante took a sinister interest in you and decided to spare you and your brother in exchange for your surrender and obedience, and maybe more.

Warning(s): DARK, angsts, sinister intentions, violence, explicit language, obsession, possessiveness, Dub-Con, manipulation, death, mental illness, hurt/comfort, smut(?)

(y/n) - your name

(b/n) - brother’s name

A/N: Be warned I’m not an expert writer and mostly just writing this fic down for my own pleasure. This is probably my second-ish published fanfiction and it’s 100% shitty (for me). So please bear with me and I hope that you’ll still find this enjoyable to read. *fingers crossed*

Also, special thanks to my creepy soulsister @negans-attagirl for being an awesome beta reader, lots of love 😘

Part 1 || (Y/N) P.O.V

It had been an hour ago since our truck broke down in the middle of the US borders and now I'm currently sweating like a dog under the desert sun while trying to keep up with the rest of the group that my brother and I came along with.

"(y/n)? Are we there yet? I feel so tired"

My eyes went down to the little boy looking at me with tired eyes while trying his best to continue holding on to the end of my jacket.

"Nope, but don't worry buddy we'll get there soon, just hold on for a bit, okay?" Smiling to him reassuringly.

To be honest, I have no idea how long it will take for us to get there, and I'm beginning to feel worried for my little brother since I know that it wouldn't be long till his lungs decide to work itself up. My brother is suffering from a serious illness called Chronic Bronchitis and that is the main reason why we need to migrate to America. Back home I have an on/off job that can barely feed us, the doctors I can afford for (b/n) aren't that good either and I know that the only way I can help my brother is to cross the border and do everything that’s needed to make him eligible for the treatment. So here we are, illegally crossing...

BANG!

A loud gunshot echoed throughout the desert stopping us from our tracks. I held onto my brother’s hand tightly preparing myself to run when needed. Once our guide Lobo called out to us the next thing I know we were sprinting to the fields.

Minutes of running we finally stopped giving us some time to rest while Lobo and Mechas, another guide of ours, surveys the area for any signs of danger. Looking down at (b/n) I could clearly see that he was trying his best to control his breathing. I quickly reached for his inhaler and gave it to him. Once done inhaling the medicine his breathing was beginning to normalize, and so was mine.

“Hey bud, you good?” I asked while putting his inhaler back in his backpack.

“Yup! All good. Umm (y/n) what was that gunshot about? Are they gonna shoot at us?” (b/n) asked thoughtfully. Thinking about what to say I finally settled to a somewhat more comforting answer, “Of course not, must be something else. No need to worry okay? I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you”

“You promise?” holding out his pinky for me to take.

“Promise. I’ll do anything for you” and I know that I will, no matter what.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_

(A few moments later)

Resuming our journey once again, (b/n) and I were trying our best to keep up but we ended up getting left behind along with a teenage girl which I came to know as Adela, Ramiro her sleazy guardian, a lanky man named Moises, Mechas who’s currently berating us to move our ass, and another male migrant which I forgot his name.

Lobo and the rest were already way ahead of us and as much as we tried to get their attention, we ended up getting ignored.

Letting out a frustrated sigh I averted my attention below and what I saw made me freeze on the spot. It’s a truck, SHIT!

“Everybody, get down now!”

Everyone immediately complied. I pointed down to the truck just a couple of miles away from us, as a man stepped outside the car. Moments later a dog jumped out of it and it seems like the man was giving it something he found on the ground to smell on. The dog ran in the direction of the rest of our group and I know from that moment that something bad is about to happen. He ordered his dog to get in the truck while he retrieved something deadly... Oh lord! That looks like...

“A sniper” Moises shakily stated, finishing my terrified thoughts.

I held onto my brother preparing for the worst.

The man positioned himself near a cliff while aiming his gun towards our fellow migrants. And then the first shot was fired…

BANG! BANG! BANG! The gunshot continued while we shockingly watched what was happening in front of us...One by one, our fellow migrants were crashing to the ground painting the desert floor with the blood of the innocent.

Covering my brother’s eyes and ears with tears welling up in the corner of my eye.

I was so terrified that I didn’t even realize that the gunshots stopped. I was pulled back to reality when Adela was frantically pulling my arm while telling me that we need to go. Getting back to my senses I pulled my brother with me while we dashed to where we came from. Sweat falling from my forehead while my breathing became labored and still, I didn’t stop running. I’ve only paused for a moment when I heard (b/n) breathlessly say that he can’t breathe.

No no no please not now. Crouching down to my brother’s level, I took his bag while in search of his inhaler. That’s when I noticed a rip from the bottom. No this can't be happening. I tried to search for it but it’s gone. Looking at my brother his breathing was becoming erratic. So I held him in my arms while I rocked him back and forth “Hey bud, look at me. (b/n) look at me and listen to my breathing okay? Your alright buddy”

“What on earth are you doing?! You have to get up now or else they will catch up!!” Moises yelled at me.

“I can’t. We lost his inhaler somewhere and he’s having an asthma attack. I need to calm him down or else he won’t be able to breathe!” my voice filled with desperation as I just yet noticed Moises terrified expression. Something was behind us...

When I followed his gaze I saw the dog running towards us. Oh, god!

Moises’s eyes were full of guilt as he turned away from us and started running. “ No! Please don’t leave us please!!!” I cried desperately but to no avail. When I returned my gaze to the dog I can see that it was getting closer and closer. I know that we wouldn’t be able to outrun it no matter how much I tried. Looking down at my brother who was still having a hard time controlling his breathing. Time to deliver a promise… I gently placed him right behind me, standing up to my full height readying myself for what’s about to come. 

The dog immediately jumped right at me while it sinks its canines in my arm. Crying in agony from the pain that ripped right through me, my brother’s breathy cries can be heard from behind me while I tried to get the beast off, stumbling on a rock I fell down on the ground and then hit my head hard on a rock. Fighting for consciousness my vision was getting blurry, I was barely feeling my mortal wound. I even failed to realize that they were no longer any canines sinking into my arm. Lolling my hazy head to the side, with a blurry vision I could see a pair of black heavy boots slowly approaching me. The sound of dust, his heavy boots clinking with each step and my desperate cry for my brother were the only sounds in the otherwise silent desert.

blink* boots by my side blink* shadow above blink* soft caresses on my cheeks blink* I was losing my consciousness... With tears in my eyes I can barely hold on,  but before losing myself to the darkness I can hear him mumble on… the words of the devil have sealed my fate and from then on I knew I will never escape.

“Beautiful, my desert rose,” he said. 

yup, I'm fucked.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_

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