#strange things at the thrift event though

[doomedtokill]

a james jumper

[missmimii]

𖤐 𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 - 𝐌 ~ 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎

୨ৎ － 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 - In which Matt convinces his girlfriend to film a video in a haunted house, the fearful events taking a turn for the better once he gives her the perfect distraction to keep her fright at bay.

✰-

୨ৎ — 𝐂𝐖. 18+, dom!matt, fem!reader, smut, f!oral receiving (Matt the munch forever), language, public(kinda?) dirty talk, light, light degradation, pet names, teasing, light fluff

𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈!

♡︎－ 𝒩ℴ𝓉ℯ * This is probably the first time I’ve written detailed smut, so let me know how I did/how I can improve! Ily guys so much, and I appreciate the recent support. It’s surreal ❤︎︎

୨ৎ － 𝐰𝐜 - 𝟕.𝟒𝐤

Starting on the current day going forward, Y/n made a promise to herself to never agree to be in a video with Matt ever again. Granted- she should’ve known he was up to no good when he offered his affection as a payment, but it was Matt.

The same Matt whose bribe seemed oddly similar to the many occasions he’d want to cling onto the girls side, press his face in the crook of her neck as he whispered all of the sinful things he thought of the beautiful girl. So when he said he’d fuck her till she saw stars, purely just for her appearance in a video, she thought nothing of it.

Because he loved his girlfriend.

Y/n was used to being in the triplets content regularly, which was given, seeing as she was the triplet’s girlfriend. Other than the odd occasions where she’d take a beat to focus on her own life as well as her personal career.

Said videos usually consisted of the four doing small activities that they knew the girl enjoyed. Q&A’s, because as much as she denied the accusations (she was fond of saying silly little facts about herself). Or something as simple as vlogging themselves shopping at thrift stores, a side hobby of the girls, that may have been a slight problem.

Just something to show off his gratitude and love for his girlfriend, showed the people watching that the angel was in fact, a very important piece in the scrambled puzzle of his life.

And though he loved his brothers, he couldn’t deny that one of the main reasons her got up every day, and stayed consistent with filming content, was because of the girl. He wanted to make her proud of his work, his job being the third on his lists of his best accomplishments.

𝟏－Nick & Chris

𝟐－Y/n (and how he managed to bag such a perfect, beautiful girl)

𝟑－His career

But because their content was usual tame and collected, random vlogs, that always consisted of activities that never were considered strange, Y/n immediately agreed to make an appearance in there latest video. Matt, on the other hand, inwardly cringed to himself at her lack of hesitation.

Was he lying to her? Not exactly. But was he avoiding telling her the full truth? Abso-fucking-lutely.

Small tea lights surrounded the group, as well as the blue rope that was laid out on the unstable floorboards beneath. Y/n felt her heart skip a beat whenever she heard a creak, forgetting that it was the century old flooring.

I can’t believe he talked me into this.

Because the girl was away for work for days on end, weeks- even, she didn’t hear everything about what happened back in LA in her absence. Of course they’d FaceTime as much as possible, but he as always to damn distracted, watching her.

Matt would watch her plump lips speak at a perfect pace through the camera, biting on the edge of his thumb as he wondered how amazing they’d feel against his own lips. She’s so fucking beautiful. Miss’ her so much. I wonder how it’d feel to be inside her right in this very moment.

And in result of his overwhelming thoughts of her, the reoccurring subject during these late night calls would also be her. Matt always missed her. Missed her touch, her voice, her perfect nails that would lightly scratch against his back as she lulled him to sleep at night, his head gently placed between her plush breasts.

Apparently (according to the man himself) Matt found himself missing the girl so much, that as he babbled on and on about how much he needed her, wanted her, and could practically feeling his cock being squeezed by the walls of her pussy, he might’ve forgot to mention that Nick had set up a collab with the two ghost hunters.

Y/n stared down at the illuminated rope that was weaved around the large group, flashes of blue and red intermittently sparking along the rope. An EMF cord. She was quite literally, being surrounded by hundreds of entities.

Lord please help me.

The girl flinched a bit as she felt a hand being pressed on the small of her back, immediately thinking ghost. “Woah.” Matt chuckled, looking down at the distressed girl as she blew out a soft gasp. “You alright?” The triplet tilted his head, running his hand comfortingly down her back.

Y/n’s shoulders fell with relief, silently shaking her head while simultaneously reaching out for his hand. Matt’s eyebrows drew together with worry, but didn’t hesitate before taking in her smaller, trembling one into his large hand. “Say the word and the video is scrapped.” She immediately shook her head.

“No- you’ve been looking forward for this for a while now.” Matt felt his stomach swoop with guilt, watching his beautiful girl run a distressed hand through the tendrils of her hair. “And Nick.” He rose a brow at the mention of triplet. “He hasn’t shut up about the stupid- ETES test, for weeks.” She stressed out.

Matt softly chuckled, sliding the hand that rest on her back to gently grip her waist. “I don’t care what Nick wants. The kids spoiled.” Y/n rolled her eyes at the childish remark, but felt her lips tip upward at the corners. “I care that you’re okay, baby.” His other hand cupped her cheek, soothingly running the pad of his thumb over the scar nearing the corner of her eye.

Matt watched in adoration as the girls eyelashes fluttered against her pink cheeks, batting them unintentionally as she peered up at him with that expression he could never get enough of. “I’ll be okay. I’m just being a big baby.” Y/n grumbled the last part in a soft voice, not even wanting the words to leave her mouth.

His lips fell into a smirk as he hummed, the thumb that rest against her cheek sliding down the dewy skin of her jaw and seductively smoothing over the plumpness of her bottom lip. “That’s because you are one.” Y/n’s frown deepened, as well as a redness illuminating against her cheeks.

Matt grunted at the sight, watching a stain of pink smudge against his thumb while it slid from her lips. “Cut it out.” He murmured, running his tongue along his bottom lip as he leered down at the girl with a dark expression. Y/n lifted an eyebrow, maybe with a slight attitude. “The pout.” Matt added.

Oh. The girl couldn’t help herself, a grin beaming across her pink lips as she cocked her head up at him. “And why’s that?” Y/n inquired, the false innocence apparent to the triplet, being fully aware of her games.

Matt felt his tongue twinge the inside of his cheek as he looked down at the nymph, feeling himself aching below through carpenter jeans he wore regularly. “Why?” He repeated, giving the girl a final chance to correct whatever little attitude she was about to cop.

Y/n hummed, zero hesitation as she placed a hand on his chest and drug the sharp ends of her nails along the thin fabric of his graphic tee. “Mhm..” His breath got caught in his throat as she pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, before forcing them into a small pout. “Is it because you don’t like to see me sad?” Fuck it.

The girl immediately yelped as she was being tugged forward, the hand of his that once rested gently against her waist, now used as leverage to bring her closer. “Sad, huh?” Chills went up at her arms, Matt’s breath feathering against the shell of her ear as he brought her into the warmth of his body. “If you keep up that little look, you’ll see just how fuckin’ hard you being ‘sad’ gets me.” He gritted against her ear.

All the girl could do was stand there, mouth gaping as she took in his words. Swallowing the lump she felt in her throat, she flicked her gaze away. “Looking forward to it.” She mumbled, rolling her eyes.

The remark wasn’t intended for his ears, fully. A sick part in the girl wanted him to hear the snarky tone, but the other, sane half, knew it was possibly the worst time to rile the man up. And if there was one thing that Y/n knew for sure, it was that Matt wouldn’t respond positively.

And he didn’t.

She got exactly one step away from him before she felt a hand gripping her wrist, chills going up her arms at the contact. “Repeat that.” Y/n felt the racing of the triplets heart as he tugged her closer, the girls back brushing against his chest.

The girl opened and closed her mouth, scrambling for a reply, or rather a lie. “I-” She practically whined as he hummed against her neck, knowing that it was a warning. “You didn’t let me finish my sentence!” The girl rushed out, spinning around to face the boy.

He lifted a brow, urging her to continue as she fiddled with the hem of his T-shirt. “I said.. looking’ forward to doing the ETES test.” She rushed out, sending him a sheepish smile.

Matt looked at her for a solid seven seconds, before his lips broke out into a smile. He just couldn’t help it. She looked as angelic as always, the flyaway hairs framing her adorable expressionisms perfectly. Matt found himself amused by her bratty approach, and though his hand did itch to slap that beautiful ass of hers, he knew to tread lightly when she was sensitive in situations like now.

“Mhm.” He shook his head a bit, rolling his eyes as he forced the smile from his lips. “Careful, kid.” Y/n, being unable to help herself, reached up and pinched his one cheek with a soft giggle. “Saw that. You aren’t slick, buddy.” The girl teased on, still giggling at his past reaction to her brattiness.

Men were too easy.

“Stop flirting with each other and get the fuck over here, you two!”

Y/n’s shoulders dropped, the momentary distraction Matt had offered her now long vanished at the sound of the youngest triplets shout. A searing light blared into the couples eye as they turned back to the group. “Jesus, Chris.” Matt hissed, using his one hand to cover his own eyes, the reaching out to guard the girls. “Put the fucking flashlight down, dummy.”

Chris being Chris, pointed at his brother and laughed, simultaneously waving the light in front of his face. “Chris,” Another voice chimed in, the black light being snatched from his hand. Nick glared as he stood aside the younger triplet, using the handle end of the flashlight to poke his side. “Stop be a fucking child.” He hissed.

Chris yelped, jumping away from the contact. “Ouchh.” All three of them, Y/n Matt and Nick, watched as the childish male hunched over while holding his side. “I’m actually burning all of your shit, Nick.” He continued to overexaggerate his pain, before abruptly reaching out to slap the eldest twin.

Matt rolled his eyes, already seeing the fight that was to break out before it even began. Wrapping two arms around her from behind, he tugged Y/n back into his chest while taking a step back from the two. Y/n stumbled backward, lips parting as she fell into the warmth of his chest with a small umph.

Her arms were comfortingly trapped beneath the boy’s tattooed ones as he leaned his head down to her ear. “You staying’ at my house tonight?” He mumbled against her jaw, the bridge of his nose brushing along her cheek as he placed a soft peck just below her ear.

She giggled at the contact, shifting a bit in his hold. “I don’t think I could even fathom sleeping alone after this.” He hummed, placing another light kiss on the area.

“After what? This, or the ghosts?” Chills went up her arms as he whispered the words against her face, the warmth of his breath grazing the curve of her jaw sensually. “Would you be shifting in bed, chills like this,” He ran his thumb along her arm, making a whimper emit from her lips. “-all up every inch of your body, because of how much you needed me? Or will it be the nightmares?” He murmured.

Y/n was basically panting as he finally ended his sentence, a bead of sweat slowly sliding down the span of her back, just between her trapezius. “… maybe a little bit of both.” She whispered softly, the words hitting Matthew’s ears like a velvety melody.

As if there were a record player in the man’s head, the vinyl that was Y/n’s voice played on repeat in his mind, resulting in the desperate aching sensation he felt growing in his jeans. “Fuck.” Matt cursed himself, momentarily looking heavenward.

“Who’s ready for the test?”

All heads turn at the sound of a voice that may have been a touch too enthusiastic for the current events. The two friends, Sam and Colby standing side by side, both grinning ear to ear. Y/n shook her head incredulously. Who was I to judge their weird little hobbies.

Nicks hand flew up, making the girl giggle softly. “I’m so fucking ready.” Chris nodded in agreement, both boys having already decided they’d go first for the test. Matt was hesitant at the beginning, not because he was scared, but because he didn’t want to say anything that may have freaked the girl out.

His upmost priority was keeping her calm, and so far his attempts hadn’t failed. “What about you two?” Colby pointed his index fringe in between the couple, lifting a brow. Matt slowly looked down, seeing the girls face absolutely terrified.

She was quite literally froze with fear, gaping at the dark haired male with wide eyes. “Like-now?” Y/n stumbled with her words, hands wringing together anxiously.

Colby nodded nonchalantly. “After these two, yeah.” He mumbled, fumbling with the camera before flicking his gaze back to the girl. “Only if you feel comfortable with it.” The male added quickly, noticing the slight warning look Matt was throwing his way.

The girl averted her gaze downward, her breathing having picked up rapidly in pace. She couldn’t- she wouldn’t. Matt suddenly adjusted the gentle hold he had on her, nudging around so she faced him. “Hey,” She shook her head. “Look at me.” Matt reached out, tipping her chin upward.

Y/n blinked up at the blue eyed boy, fighting back the tears of frustration as she gazed up at him. “I really don’t want to.” He immediately nodded, using his thumb to effortlessly brush away the one lone tear that had fallen. “And you don’t have to, yeah?” She sniffed a bit, shutting her eyes for a brief pause.

She was that friend.

She felt like one of those kids who dipped their feet in the pool instead of swimming because they couldn’t. “… I’ll do it if you do it with me.” She blurted out, her hands balling into fists.

Matt’s eyes widened at his girlfriend’s sudden change in attitude. “You want to do it?” She nodded, making the triplets face churn with even more confusion. “You- you want to do the ETES test? Talk to ghosts-” The more he went on, the more frightened she became, but he couldn’t help it.

What the fuck had gotten into his girlfriend?

Y/n groaned and softly shoved his chest. “Stop talking about it!” She whispered hissed, making him immediately halt his ranting. Matt blew out a breath, scratching the back of his head as he looked down at the girl. “Okay.” He nodded.

Her eyebrows flew up. “Just ‘okay’? Not, ‘okay I’ll do it with you’ or oka-” She was cut off from her rambling as set of lips were placed against hers, immediately resulting in her emitting a soft. She felt her entire body drop as the weight fell from her shoulders, Matt’s perfectly soft lips moulding against hers passionately.

The triplet let his eyes lull shut as he pressed himself closer into the girls body, both hands cupping her flushed cheeks as he smiled into the kiss. “Yes,” The boy muttered into between kisses. “I’ll do it with you, baby.” He chuckled, placing soft pecks around her mouth and jaw.

The girls nose scrunched at the ticklish sensation, giggling as she pushed her hands against the triplet’s chests. “Matt!” She exclaimed in an undertone, still laughing as she attempted to shove him away. “Cut it out.” The male shook his head, lightly nipping at her cheek.

“Can’t help it.” His speech came out slurred with his lips pressed against the soft skin of her cheek. “You look so fucking good with in this jacket- and that fuckin’ top.” Matt practically whined against her jaw, thumbing over the opening of her cropped shirt.

Maybe ghosts weren’t too scary …

✰-

“Holy fuck, man.”

Chris practically trampled through the closest door, slamming the door on Nicks face as he tore the merlot fabric from his eyes. “Those ghosts almost talk more than Nick.” He snickered, wincing as Nick pinched his side. “Kidding.” He grumbled.

Y/n watched as the door creaked open, the dusty sofa sitting inside awaiting the couple. I can’t believe I was doing this. Matt held both pieces of red fabric, feeling himself even slightly uneasy as he looked in the meekly lit room.

Dread. The girl was dreading the second her bottom landed on the leather sofa, and she was just about prepared to do anything to prolong it. Y/n felt her palms dampen with sweat, her hand twitching at the urge to reach out and grip Matt’s sleeve.

He’s right beside me- I’ll be fine.

The triplet beat her to it though, seeing her overwhelmed state as she shrunk into her own body, prompting him to reach out and grab her trembling hand. Her head snapped in his direction, finding the males eyes already on hers. “Good?” He asked, raising a brow.

Butterflies pressed against her stomach as her dilated pupils gazed into his blue eyes, feeling the world around her spin at the look that illuminated from his eyes. How could one look hold so much … love?

She blinked twice, shaking herself from whatever trance she was in. “Yes- yeah.” The girl uttered, looking down at their intertwined hands as she fiddled with the ring woven around his index finger. “Are you?” She murmured.

The corners of Matt’s mouth turned up at the inquiry. “Yeah.. m’fine doll.” Seeing her meek nod, he softly chuckled. “Are you sure?”

Y/n nipped at her bottom lip, flicking her eyes back up to the triplet’s. “Mhm.” At her nod, Matt offered one of his own.

It was on the tip of her tongue, she just had to say the word and he’d happily lift the girl into his arms, and walk out of the dump of house. The content mine as well have been nothing to him if his girl wasn’t okay the entire time.

“Here,” The male mumbled, the girl freezing with confusion. “Turn around for me sweetheart.” Her lips formed an ‘O’, and she turned her back to him. Matt carefully brushed away the few strands of hair that framed her face, making sure that none of them got caught as he gently tied the red fabric over her eyes.

Y/n sucked in a breath, her vision going black as she dug her nails into the flesh of her palms. “Atta’ girl.” She heard him murmur by her ear, before her nose crinkled as he pressed a harsh kiss on the side of her head.

“Matt.” She hushed, chuckling as she dodged his wandering touch. The tips of his fingers thumbed against the fabric, double checking that she in fact, could not see.

Something sinister ignited in the triplet as soon as her ability of seeing was enabled, a smirk cursing his lips. Touch would be so … sensational. She’d never know where his hand would glide off to next. Feeling her breath get caught in her throat, Y/n froze as she felt Matt brush his hand against bare skin of her abdomen. “Matt?” She whispered softly.

…

The girl was met with silence, resulting in a wave of confusion rolling over her body. Along with a spark set off in her core as she felt that same hand began to toy with the button of her jean shorts. A breath was sucked in as headphones were placed atop her head, the muffled sound of her own heart becoming the only thing she could hear.

Boom boom boom

The muffled sound of people talking was drowned out as the girls heart beat through her ears, Matthew’s feathering touch grazing her lower stomach. The boy bit down on his bottom lip as he watched his own fingers just barley pop the button her shorts open, the heat igniting within his body killing him.

God I need her.

Anger consumed his mood as he managed to pry his touch from the girls soft skin, knowing that the group was waiting for him to get on with the damn test. Jaw clenching as he snuggly knotted the fabric over his eyes, now unable to see the unworldly woman right in front of him.

“You guys all set?” Sam exclaimed, his voice coming off far too enthusiastic. Matt nodded stiffly, as did the girl.

Matt guided his hand lower, gently wrapping his larger one around the girls. “Feel for the door, hm?” He breathed against her ear, keeping his body close to hers as they walk forward. Y/n sucked in a breath, feeling the obvious hardness that pressed into her backside. “Kay’.” She murmured.

The triplet felt his lips tip up, rubbing the pad of this thumb against her wrist as they continued to move close to the door. Both of their steps came to a halt as Y/n’s hand brushed the corner of the door, using her hand to shove it open so they could enter. “Good luck you two!” Colby yelled, chuckling as he said something to the camera afterwards.

Good luck indeed.

A cold chill ran up the girls back, blowing out a breath as kept the urge to wrap her arms around herself. “It’s so cold.” She mumbled, her own voice muffled to the triplets ears. The room was pitch black other than the few tea candles, not that either parties would know due to the bonding around their eyes.

Unexpectedly, the feeling of dread that she assumed would stem from hearing ghosts, wasn’t what had her shaking. It was the overwhelming presence of her boyfriend, she could practically feel him breathing down her neck from several steps away.

But how could he help it? Matt leaned back against the wall, heart pattering painfully as he reached down to palm the raging erection that was now prominent through his pants. Fuck- how was I supposed to focus on ghosts when I was this fucked up? His head tipped against the hard brick wall, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he resisted the urge to fist his cock.

The room was freezing, sending the hairs on his arms straight up as he fought his inner turmoil. Fuck it. Within seconds he was ripping the headset from his head, the thin fabric covering his eyes flowing to the floor immediately after.

Y/n stood in the same place as before, nipping at the skin around her thumb as she awaited .. anything. A whisper, a random breeze, words, anything that indicated something paranormal. Minutes after minutes went by, before she sucked in an abrupt breath.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she felt a gust of air graze from behind her, before vanishing within mere seconds. It was as if a spider had crawled past her, the fight or flight instincts fully in activation. That was before a low voice was spoken through the speaker of the headphones, making her flinch.

Behind you.

Y/n froze in fear, shaking violently as she fought back tears. “Matt?” Her voice came out wobbly, cracking nearing the end of her sentence. Even if he had replied, she wouldn’t have been able to hear due to the headphones.

Matt watched as the girl froze, lips curving into a smirk as he stalked forward. His poor baby, he cooed to himself, finally using his one hand to girl the side of her waist from behind. “Shh..” He quieted the timid girl as she lurched forward, obviously not expecting the touch.

Y/n felt her shoulders tense, her blood running cold as a hand squeezed her waist. It was Matt- it had to be. The sane part of her knew it was him, but the other told her it was an entity. This fear only multiplied by ten as another hand reached out from behind her, slim fingers dragging across her trachea.

Matt bit down on his lip as he felt the girls body shake against his, his fingers fiddling with the locket around her neck. He couldn’t help but reminisce the memories of the night he’d gifted to her, the events feeling oddly recent. It was their two year anniversary, and also the week before her birthday.

He wanted the girl to feel special, for her to know that she was everything he could ever dream for. It was a small butterfly locket that embroidered her birthstone right in the middle, the jewel glimmering against her untainted skin during any given moment of the day.

He quickly came to realize his love the necklace that same night. As the girl straddled his lap in the seat of his car, the small charm dangling down against his neck as she tightened herself around his cock, riding him like her life depended on it.

She practically went limp in his lap, her chest falling against his as she breathlessly moaned next to his ear. He locked away the lewd sounds in the back of his brain, seeing as it was odd that she was overly expressive in bed. He always knew she felt good as her hands gripped the sheets, or went he felt his dick being practically suffocated by the walls of her pussy as she clamped around him.

Matt let the thoughts cloud his mind, the desperation of needing her becoming overwhelming. “Fuck.” He whispered to himself, the hand that brushed against her neck flattening against the surface, entrapping the sides of her neck in his strong hand.

Almost immediately after, a whimper came from the girls lips. “Matt?” Yes. He wanted to say it so fucking bad. Hold the girl to his chest as he assured her it was him who had gotten ahold of her. But something.. portentous came over him.

The triplet felt the girls pulse thrum in his hold, a sadistic feeling setting in his heart. Something told him to slam her against the side of the wall, to fill her up so good with his cock, proving that he was the only person capable of making her feel so good, her eyes rolling back into her skull as she realized it was him.

He blew out a breath, shakily removing the headphones from atop her head, tossing them off to the couch. “Baby..” Y/n’s shoulders fell with relief, breathing out a deep sigh as she recognized the voice to be her boyfriends. Though, at the exact moment of relief, her stomach tightened at the tone of voice she knew all too well.

The same husky octave his voice dropped to whenever he got himself worked up, slowly drifting off into a whiny one as he begged to be inside her. “Stop fucking with me, Matt.” The girl finally managed to hiss out, shifting in his hold.

He groaned as her ass dug into the tent in his jeans, still fighting against his hold. “Cut it out.” He snapped, squeezing the outside of her neck lightly, the gesture a clear warning. Y/n rolled her eyes, anger consuming her.

“You scared the hell out of me.” Matt chuckled a bit, hearing the whine in her voice as she spoke. “You know I’m not good with all of this, be gentle.” She murmured.

His heart swooped a bit as he hummed, placing a peck on the back of her head. “Gentle, hm?” The girl bobbed her head, still experiencing the aftershocks of the momentary fear she’d experienced. “I’ll be so fuckin’ gentle with you, doll.” He whispered against the shell of her ears, making her shiver.

Her hand instinctively reached around to unbind the tie around her eyes, the motion being halted as a larger one caught her hand. “Leave it.” Matt muttered, the girl slowly lowering her hand to her side as she hearted the warning in his tone.

What the fuck had gotten into him?

The hand that was on her waist slowly trailed down her side, sensually grazing her hip dip before his fingers began to toy with her shorts button. “These are adorable, baby.” Matt murmured as he looked down at his own movements, feeling lost in his own thoughts.

He’d been thinking it all night. The girl looked too fuckable. Even if it wasn’t purposeful, her every move had the triplet leaning on a wall as he begged his body to not react the ways it begged for. Sam had even stopped him at one point during the night, placing a hand in his shoulders as he gave his friend a look of concern.

“You alright man?” He’d inquiry.

Matt could only offer a dry nod as he leaned off of the wall, the muscles in his jaw clenching as he did his best to adjust his raging hard on without the rest of the group noticing.

Y/n’s breath hitched as the ends of two of the males fingers slowly dipped down the hem of her shorts, the material scraping against her thighs that were painfully clamped together, her body now reaching to much more sensitively with his touch. “Matt,” The girl whispered. “Your brothers are literally right outside.” She hissed.

He hummed, chuckling as he heard the girl whimper when she felt his fingers scrape along the lace of her undergarment. “Guess you’ll have to be quiet then, huh?” Much to her dismay, Matt’s hand withdrew itself from her small shorts.

A sense of relief filled her simultaneously, knowing that she wouldn’t have to force herself to stay silent if he really had decided to go further, but with that came the frustration end. Matt had been fucking with her all night, nothing short of grabbing her ass whenever she bent over to arranged the EMF cord, or whispering sinful things into her ear.

Shocked, a yelp escaped her mouth as she was suddenly being lifted from her feet, two hands snuggly wrapped around her lower waist from behind. “What-” She cut herself off, jaw going ajar as Matt spun her around, the two hands slipping down and cupping the undersides of her thighs. “What’re doing?!” She whispered.

The look of absolute horror on her face made Matt’s eyes twinkle with love, being completely immersed in her every expression. “Giving the ghosts a show.” He whispered, a smile creeping on his lips as he watched her pupils dilate.

She felt her back press against the cold stone wall, her oversized leather jacket scraping against the rock as he adjusted her body against the surface. The girls legs instinctively wrapped themselves around the males sides, her bottom landing on his thigh as he pressed knee against the wall as a makeshift seat.

“Like’ my pretty little trophy.” She felt the blindfold feather down from her eyes, gazing down at him with a heavy stare as he inhaled deeply, chest heaving. Both of his hands rested on her hips, molding around the area as he guided her lower half closer.

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat, fighting back the moan that threatened to bubble up as her core ignited with a burst of arousal, the hardness of his thigh pressing into her heat. “Fuck- Matt.” She gasped out, sending him a glare.

His blue eyes flicked up to hers, a smirk crossing his plump, a small pop sound registering in the girls ear as she looked down. Matt effortlessly undid the button of her shorts, following the action with tugging the denim down her smooth thighs. “Say the word.” Matt’s tongue twinge the inside of his cheek as he pulled the shorts down her thighs, stopping mid way to look up into her eyes.

He waited, and waited, just for her to tell him to stop. But he was met with silence. That was until two hands were gripping the neckline of the triplets shirt, pulling him closer into the warmth of her body. “Just- do something.” She finally managed out, a whine drawing out at the end of her plea.

Matthew immediately began to slip her bottoms off, chuckling huskily as he shook his head. “Such a little brat.” She leaned her weight on the surface of his muscular thigh, lifting her hips for easier access as Matt tugged the denim the rest of the way down, the shorts slipping down and hooking around her one ankle.

The male didn’t move with haste, taking his sweet time to lower himself to his knees, carefully lifting and placing the girls legs around his broad shoulders. Matt’s hands softly pry her thighs apart, littering small pecks to the inside of the dewy skin as he made his way through her two plush thighs.

One touch, one little graze of his lips against the lace of her faded pink underwear was all it took for her thighs to clamp around his head. With hooded eyes, he flicked his gaze up to the unknowing girl. “Baby,” Her head snapped down as she heard him tut, catching the look of his face. “Open your damn legs.” He muttered, hardening his gaze.

He didn’t have ask twice. “Atta’ girl.” He praised as her thighs parted, leaving the perfect amount of space for his head to slip between. Y/n assumed that the demand was finally going to result in her being touched. But much to her dismay, he continued to taunt her.

Whimpering as he nipped at her thigh, right next to where she needed him, she reached down and threaded a hand through his tousled hair. “Don’t give me that half assed shit.’ She whined, gritting her teeth a bit as the sexual frustration grew.

“Yes ma’am.” He joked, his fingertips teasing the hem lace of her underwear.

He leisurely slid the itchy material down her thighs, biting down on his bottom lip as he caught sight of her glistening core. “All for me. huh, baby?” Y/n nodded with a small hum, chest heaving as she peered down at him, Matt’s perfect lips pursing as he blew a cold stream of air onto the sensitive skin of her pussy.

“Matt.” His one hand that gripped the underside of her thigh lightly squeezed the area. “I know baby, I know.” He murmured. Within seconds the frustration she felt had passed, as Matt’s lips began moving against her lower ones. “Fuck.” She moaned breathily, her head falling back against the wall.

His tongue slipped between her slick folds, harshly lapping at her core as if he was savouring every inch of her. “So fuckin’ good.” He moaned softly against her.

Her eyes that had lulled shut with pleasure, slowly pulled open at the sound of Matt’s small whisper. “Huh?” She reached her hand down, running her fingers through his brunette hair before gently tugging his head up.

“What’d you say?” Y/n patted his cheek lightly, trying to snap him out of whatever hazy high he’d put himself in. As more wetness trickled down the insides of her thighs, Matt’s eyes had visibly blurred over, pupils dilated as he looked up at his girlfriend with need. “S’just so good.” The boy panted out.

Eyebrows knitting together, and lips parting as she went to reply. “Jesus!” It was replaced with a choked moan, her head thrown back in pleasure while Matt’s tongue reconnected with her heat, dragging a long stripe up her core. He felt her pulse against his tastebuds, locking the sounds she made every time he’d nudge her clit.

The triplet’s mind was utterly corrupted by the girl. Y/n this, Y/n that, god Y/n tasted so good, I wonder what Y/n would feel like- his thought process was entirely fucked. Leading to the current, the tip of his nose grazing her clit as he buried his face into her throbbing pussy. “Fuck.” He moaned with a slight slur, both hands down gripping each sides of her thighs.

Y/n’s eyes were squeezed shut, mouth ajar as she wondered what had gotten into her once tame and collected boyfriend. “Matt,” She’d whimper out every few seconds, the light melodic rhythm of her voice going completely deaf to the man’s ears, as he desperately lapped at her sopping heat.

It was only until he felt the girls thighs begin to clamp around his head that he was brought from his foggy mindset, hooded eyes dragging up to the breathless girl while removing his mouth from her pulsing core. “sweetheart,” he panted, running his ring clad hand down his jaw. “Don’t get me wrong, I fuckin’ love it,” He chuckled, making her roll her eyes with a small whimper.

“But I can’t really fuck you with my tongue, if you’re doing that.” She blew out a small sound of confusion, before spotting the pink area or skin behind his both ears, his diamond studs having pressed down against the skin whenever she’d clamp her thighs around his ears. “Can I?” He mumbled, lifting a brow.

She nodded pitifully, gripping his hair in her small hand ushering his face back to her drenched core. “Mhm.” Matt huffed out a sound of amusement, but like the gentleman he was, continued to guide the girl to her release. “Yess.” The hand in his hair gripped the tendrils harshly, pulling him closer into her as he swirled his tongue around the bundle of need.

He couldn’t help but glide his own hand downward, lightly palming over the obvious tent in his jeans. Matt neglected his aching cock for the extended period of time, ever since he saw her in that sexy little get up. Or when she’d accidentally brush her ass against his dick when she flailed backward into his body when frightened.

It wasn’t because he hadn’t felt the need to though. Not at all. In fact, he’d fought and resisted the temptation of slipping his hand into his jeans, fisting the aching hard on he sported just by the mere sight of Y/n. Or to grab the girl, nudge her into a random haunted room, and to slam his cock into her the second he tugged the denim shorts down her thighs.

Then there was her.

Matt was simply content with mind-fucking the girl, taunting and teasing her throughout the sinister night. Her every tantalizing move alluring him further, making his eyes gleam with a darkness that begged to be released with a quick fuck.

And because it was an escape, a distraction, she didn’t mind. “Gonna’ cum.” Y/n gasped out, feeling his lips pepper wet pecks all around her beating heat, groaning as he placed a final one directly over her dripping core.

The girls hips moved against his working lips as she felt the ball in her abdomen begin to unravel, eyes fluttering shut as her mouth opened in a silent moan. Matt’s eyes slid up to her as she came, lips quirking up as he watched her shatter in his hands.

Back arching as she pushed her dripping pussy closer to his lips as he lapped up her release, the familiar taste touching his tongue with an addictive undertone. He couldn’t get enough, fighting the urge of his eyes rolling back as his hands roamed every inch of her soft skin.

Y/n whimpered softly, watching the magnifying boy place two last kisses on the inside of either thigh’s. “sorry.” She whispered, making Matt’s eyebrows raise with surprise. “Sorry? Sorry for what, baby?” He laughed a bit, running the back of his hand across his damp lips.

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, turning her head away. “I don’t even know- it’s just embarrassing.” Matt scoffed, dragging her underwear and shorts up her thighs while raising from his haunches.

“Nothing you could ever say or do, would be ‘embarrassing’.” He said firmly, pulling her shorts over her supple ass. “always’ my perfect girl.” He murmured, pressing his index and middle finger into her cheek, tilting her hed his way again.

The girl blushed, nipping at her bottom lip as she shifted foot to foot. “Do you want me to..” she trailed off, nodding toward the tent in his pants. Matt rolled his eyes, running the hand down her hair as he pulled her closer. “So bad it fuckin’ aches for you.” He grunted.

She immediately reached down to tug at the button, her hand being caught by a larger one. “hey,” Matt chuckled, making her flick her gaze up to his. “I thought-” She squealed, taken aback as his lips pressed onto hers.

The hand atop her soft hair drifted down to cup the side of her neck, Matthew’s thumb rubbing back and forth across her steadily beating pulse. “but,” He whispered. “I would much rather have this little mouth,” He muttered in between kisses. “on my cock after I’ve gotten you all warm. Bathed, fed, and in some comfortable clothes.” he chuckled, his other thumb running along the underside of her bottom lip.

There noses brushed each others even after they pulled away, Matt looking to be pondering as he looked off. “Hm..” She rose a brow, a grin spreading cross her raw lips. “Preferably something of mine.” He said, flicking his gaze back to hers.

Y/n’s eyebrows rose, tilting her head aside as he smiled up at her boyfriend. “Yours, huh?” She mused, her grin growing at his firm nod. “What about that white fresh love-” She yelped as a hand collided with the skin of her thigh, winching as he rubbed over the now pink skin.

“Always a brat.” He murmured, a smirk growing on his lips as he watched her thighs squeeze together at the action. Little masochist. “Maybe the bath and change of clothes can wait..” Her eyes lit up, opening her mouth to retort brattily.

Bang!

“Holy fuck!” Y/n cried, gripping onto her boyfriend’s arm as a ringing noise echoed through the void room. Matt went still, but managed to breathily laugh while patting the girls head. “Kid- you’re fine-” He attempted to assure, but flinched and cursed himself when he heard glass shatter. “Jesus.” He muttered, eyes wide as he snapped his head behind him.

The door flew open, the silhouette of four men standing in the door way. “I’m dead- I’m dying tonight-” she rambled, shaking her head rapidly as she gripped onto Matt’s muscular forearm. Matt laughed through the fright, faltering from his stance above her. “No you’re not, doll.” He chuckled.

“Ouch!”

Matt winced, pulling his forearm away from the girl. “You pinched me.” He sounded betrayed, cradling his tattooed arm to his chest as he looked down at his fearful girlfriend.

“It’s because I love you.” She whined, a small cry at the end of her sentence as she heard a door creak. “And I’m sorry I never got to go down-”

“Boo!”

The couple screamed, Y/n throwing herself into Matt’s arms. Sam and Colby stood side by side, the blonde grinning ear to ear as he held up the medium sized camera. He looked enthralled, whereas the two looked petrified. “How’d it go?!” Nick, who stood not behind joyed.

Y/n’s shoulders fell seeing the friend she knew and trusted, but ran a hand down her face as it fell back on the wall. “Oh my god.” Matt threw his brothers a glare, hands trembling ever so slightly. “You scared the shit out of me, guys.” Y/n laughed.

Sam and Colby brought the camera a little closer, the couple squinting from the light. “How was it? Hear anything ghostly.” Colby mused, laughing a bit.

Matt and Y/n looked at each other, eyes wide. “Uh..” The girl snapped her head in the direction of the friends, rushing to find some kind of excuse- or lie. “Glass!” She exclaimed, making the group of four all look toward each other in confusion.

Matt felt himself confused as well. “Ow!” Y/n sent him a warning glance, slapping his shoulder. “Oh fuck- yeah, that.” Matt looked back at Colby. “Glass.. broke?” He said, looking back at his girlfriend for reassurance. She nodded in alliance. “Yep. Loud.” Matt nodded along.

Suddenly the couples current position registered to each other, as well as their friends. “So..” Y/n mumbled, lips drawing into a line as she slid down the wall and out from her boyfriend’s body. “Yep, it was very spooky.” Patting his chest once, Matt looked down at his girlfriend with a toothy smile.

God she was cute.

Nick made an expression of realization, face scrunching up as he faux gagged. “Geez, guys.” He groaned, rolling his eyes as he saw the discarded headsets and blindfolds. “That was me.” Matt and Y/n looked at each other, before looking back at the eldest triplet.

“.. I tripped over a lantern, okay?!” He confessed, a blush spreading across his cheeks from both embarrassed and having been exposed to whatever rendezvous his brother and girlfriend were having. “And I heard screaming, that definitely wasn’t out of fear- longgg before I did that-” He attempted to deflect.

Chris immediately cut him off. “Nick-nick. Shut the fuck up.” He hissed, nudging his side.

“Okay!” Sam interrupted, cheeks slightly red as he looked around at the group. “We’ve been filming for over two hours, which is more than enough. Anyone wanna’ catch dinner?” He put his hands together, grinning sheepishly.

Me and Matt stayed silent, Chris’s and Nick’s hands flying up simultaneously. “Me.” They both say, voice overlapping each others.

“Great!” Sam exclaimed, sending a quick smile our way.

As the group dispersed the room, Matt slowly let his head fall against Y/n’s chest, letting out a small whine. “Holy shit.” His voice came out muffled, lips mushed against her goosebump-ridden chest.

She patted his head a few times. “I know. I know.” Oh god, did she know.

୨ৎ 𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓈 －

@tvdelrey @luverboychris

[concreteburialplot]

VIRALITY // 12

12 - Liar, Liar*

pairing: nicholas ruffilo x fem!oc [vallie]

more: chp 11 // masterlist | crossposted: ao3 | word count: 14.7k (strap in)

Summary: Following Noah and Vallie's thrift shop adventure, Vallie faces the consequences of her actions. After the launch of their new music video, Vallie realizes she might not like what she wished for. A pivotal decision reshapes the group's dynamics, leading to a significant change in the connection between a specific pair.

warnings: alcohol, bratty noah, smoking, heartache, yearning, regret, jealousy, unprotected sex, cream pie x2, oral (f receiving), cum eating kinda?, angry nick but also soft nick???, fluffy???, she's just a girl ok, mediocre writing lol, sorry this has taken 500 years, my apology is that it's long as fuck, 18+ MDNI

Disclaimer - This story is AU since it does not follow actual timelines or events. The band here is still fairly small & does things entirely on their own with no other support.

Reminder; Minor band crossovers (greta van fleet / chase atlantic) to supply side characters :)

don't like it don't read it. don’t be mean for no reason & let others enjoy things thnx :)

VALLIE

When Noah and I walk up the gravelly incline to the warehouse, the rest of the band and Bryan are all on their phones lounging on different surfaces - chairs with feet propped on tables, against the brick wall, spread out on the floor. Boredom was an understatement. 

“Well, took you guys long enough.” Grumbles Jolly. “What did you get lost picking out scarves?”

My heart skips a beat at the coincidental wording. “Sorry, we really had to dig to find anything.” I mumble quickly, throwing the plastic shopping bags on the ground.

“Well, did you find anything good?” Jolly asks.

“Oh, we found something good alright.” Noah replies, shoving his hand into a plastic bag to retrieve the cursed fedora.

I roll my eyes and playfully smack his arm, “Shut up.”

“No.” He says matter-of-factly, with a popped hip and a hand on his waist. “It’s your fault, you put it on my head.”

“Yeah whatever.” I laugh and wave off his silliness.

I suddenly feel all eyes in the room on us accompanied by an awkward stillness. Of course they’d be thrown off, we could barely be in a room together before we left, why wouldn’t this be strange?

I glance up for a split second before digging into the bags and find Nicholas’ eyes watching us intently. His brows low and eyes sharp.

In my tummy swirls a feeling so closely reminiscent of guilt, similar to when I was with Kras last night. But neither make any sense. Nicholas and I aren’t anything, it shouldn’t matter. Kras and I are just friends. And Noah and I definitely are not anything. And yet, here he is looking angry and here I am feeling guilty.

After handing out the thrifted clothes and a wardrobe change, the boys come out in their new clothes, and they look perfect. The pieces we chose embody each one of them flawlessly. They fit the direction Noah wants for the music video but they’re rather simple. Folio’s is the most basic in a plain black shirt, black jeans, and his sneakers. Jolly’s is a black long sleeve button down, tight black pants paired with his hefty combat boots. Noah’s outfit was centered around the black peacoat we found as the statement piece with a black turtleneck beneath it, black pants and boots. We even picked up something for Bryan even though he was staying behind the camera - he got a vintage Kodak t-shirt, which he thought was “rad as hell”. 

Since I showed up in last night’s sweats, I figured I’d pick up an outfit as well. I found a grey sundress. It’s something I would normally only wear in casual settings, but I wanted to be comfy and it was the only halfway cute thing in the thrift shop.

The outfit I picked out for Nicholas was the best one, but I may be biased. It’s a thin black sweater with thumb holes atop a black turtleneck paired with baggy, strappy pants and finished off with black leather combat boots.

With the new uniforms, the band and crew seem to have a reinvigorated morale. It did exactly what I needed it to do, it gave them the spark they needed to bring the music video to life. 

We spend our time running the song over and over while Bryan gets shots from all angles. I got some content for posting and even posed the boys for some social media trends, which they all hated except Folio, and Bryan in the background. Since I was done gathering content, I sat at the plastic picnic table on the far side of the warehouse diagonal from the makeshift stage while they continued to shoot slightly different variations.

I plug my phone and camera into my Macbook to import the photos and videos I took to begin editing them and schedule them for posting.

“Vallie.” I hear a voice call amongst mumbling between a take.

I snap up to match the voice to the source: Noah.

“What’s up?” I respond, half expecting to be met with some sort of criticism or snarky remark.

“Were you paying attention to this last take?” He questions, but not in an accusatory way that I’d normally anticipate, just genuine curiosity.

“A little, why?”

“What did you think of the intro?”

A hush blankets the room and the rest of them look between us as if they’d seen a ghost. I’m glad we’re finally kind of getting along but I wish he wouldn’t make it so obvious. Especially in front of Nicholas. The odd feeling in the room dances a chill up my arms leaving goosebumps behind.

“Oh um, I liked it? It was cool.” Truthfully, I’m not sure that I did like it, but I just wanted to move on from being in the spotlight.

He gives me a wide, genuine grin like a kid in the middle of a playground, “Sick, I thought so too.”

I glance over at Bryan, who is slowly but surely becoming my lifeline in these situations. He offers a ‘I don’t know either but just roll with it?’ look with a brow wiggle and a barely noticeable shrug.

Mid-shoot everyone needed some sort of touch up. I somehow had my job description expanded to include wardrobe and makeup.

The one I dreaded the most was Nicholas.

I walk over to him, mute, focusing my eyes straight forward which for me happens to be his chest. I keep my gaze away from his eyes as I fix the collar of his cardigan.

He too keeps his focus off of me.

“Sorry I acted like an ass earlier.” He says sounding partially sincere, partially grumpy. “It was out of line, and I’m sorry.”

I clear my throat. An apology was the last thing I expected and the last thing I deserve. “It’s okay.”

A quiet pause fills the small space between us.

“So, you’re seeing someone?” He questions casually but I can tell it’s anything but casual.

I press my lips together contemplating if I really want to commit this hard to the ruse. But Kras is right, and my gut is right. No matter how much I want to stay entangled with him, it can’t continue. I don’t know how well this action plan is going to work, but I have to try.

“Yes.” I lie with fake confidence. “Kind of.”

He takes a moment to process my response which makes me question how good of a job I did with lying. Finally, he nods, his eyes still locked on something past the opening of the warehouse.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you.” I sweeten the lie.

“I guess that’s a good thing then, you know, for our jobs and all.” His voice light, as if he’s purposefully making it seem more nonchalant than it is. I know I hurt him, I can hear it in his voice. Whether it was his heart or his ego that I hurt, I’m not sure but all I know is that we went too far. “It just would’ve been nice to know.”

The painful twist in my chest confirms that I made the right decision to stick to the plan. I'm already so invested in him that it hurts; I can’t imagine how much worse it would be if I let myself fall any deeper.

I swallow the very faint lump in my throat and flatten out the thin material resting on his chest. Spending another night with him was a bigger mistake than I realized because just the warmth of him beneath my fingertips makes me want to melt right into him. I wish I didn’t know what he felt like, what he sounded like, what he tasted like. Suddenly I want to take everything back. I want to unkiss him, unfuck him, unknow him. In the span of knowing them and being on their team, I’ve regretted it about 75% of the time but there, standing in front of him, it is a solid 110%.

I wish I had just heard them on the radio and found myself at a show, 

or met them in passing during industry events,

or maybe bumped into him in a coffee shop where he suggests his favorite latte,

or literally any other scenario that would grant me the luxury of just reaching up and kissing him without feeling confliction or guilt. 

The reality of the whole situation hits me all at once and my entire mood shifts abruptly, in a way I’ve never let happen while I work. I’m normally exceptionally skilled in the art of separating my emotions from most other things but this cuts through all of that. He lowered my walls more than anyone ever had and reached a part of me I’ve never let someone do before. I swallow hard and blink the burning in my eyes away. The last thing I need is for him to see my eyes full of tears. 

So, I do what I think makes the most sense. I yank each edge of my mouth into a tight-lipped smile and step back to hold out an overly professional hand, “Friends?” 

He nearly grimaces at the word and begrudgingly snakes his hand into mine, gripping it firmly and giving it a shake. “Whatever you want, Vallie.” He grumbles sarcastically before walking off back to the set. 

He leaves me with my hand vacant and my eyes blinking at the wall he just stood in front of. I knew he wasn’t happy with me, but I didn’t know we’d end up starting over.

The music video that Noah had fast tracked was finally finished regardless of what the others felt. It was filmed and edited by Bryan with Noah glued to his side the whole time to make sure it followed his “vision” for it perfectly. It was hyper tuned into the details and nuances Noah was looking to cultivate for the prematurely released song.

Two weeks later, I hit post on the music video with the band scattered around the rehearsing studio, celebrating with beers and laughter. I roll my eyes playfully at the happy, excited actions that ensue behind me but bite down on my lip to keep myself from smiling. While it’s not everything they or I wanted, it’s still a damn good video and I’m proud of them for it. 

All entanglements aside, it’s the first time that I’ve felt like I truly helped them achieve something great. Their growth and publicity had been steady but incredibly slow despite all of my best efforts. Their initial boom from the band going viral months ago plateaued. I’ve been chalking it up to the lack of content, but the faint fear of chronic stagnation has been creeping up my ribs every so often. It’s something I warned them from the beginning - “Anyone can go viral, but it won’t last.” I recall telling them at the very start. “Don’t get attached to the numbers.” I told them that it burns bright for a split second then gets snuffed out by the next big thing to come along. But they didn’t listen to me, and I can see the disappointment and fear worsening in Noah’s features with each day that passes. It’s all made me wonder if there was even a place in the scene for them, or if what their label is trying to accomplish is possible. It made me question my ability to execute the task handed to me.

I posted all of the music video promotions across all forms of media and posted some of the pre-filmed short form content onto TikTok and Instagram. “Alright well, your part is done now, I’m just gonna keep working.”

I stand, beginning to gather all the papers scattered over the table. “With all the teasing I posted for the video and all the extra content we filmed, engagement has gone up by about 5%. I estimate it going up by about another 10-15% for the next couple of weeks while the music video gains traction.” I dropped the edges of the paperwork against the table a couple times to align them into a neat stack. “You’ve gained a significant amount of followers as well, at least compared to before the promo content.”

“Aw Vallie,” Bryan throws an arm around my shoulders pulling me into a side hug. “Is this your way of saying we did a good job?” 

A small smile tugs at one edge of my lips, “I’m just saying that the music video is projected to do really well.” I sink my teeth into my lip again, this time to keep from speaking but it fails. “And, I think you guys did a great job.” I rush the words out at the end.

The large grin is nearly identical across the five boys' faces, each one unique in their features, but the glow of finally birthing a new project is potent in all their smiles.

As they mingle about, I return my focus to my screen and sit back down. Likes and comments begin to pour in, faster than expected. The promo posts over the past couple weeks built up a significant amount of anticipation and excitement, I just didn’t expect it to gain momentum so fast. Compared to other clients, this engagement is nothing, a couple hundred comments within the first 30 minutes, but for them, it’s huge. I decide to keep it to myself for now to not get their hopes up too high since the numbers could plateau quickly. 

But before I exit completely, my eyes catch a couple comments that churn my stomach unexpectedly.

nobody told me the singer was so hot !!

damn he’s fine as fuck

oh my god Noah is so !!!!

the whole band is fine wtf 

god that bassist is sooo sexy

My eyes narrow and my teeth involuntarily clench at the last comment. A dull ache throbs in my chest at the words, a feeling I’m not quite sure I’ve ever experienced before. 

My plan to leverage their looks was working. This is exactly what I wanted, what I held meetings for, what I fought for, what I was hired for - so why does it suddenly feel like a loss?

I glance at Nicholas, who’s joking with the others, his face lit up with a carefree smile. My heart aches but, this is exactly what I wanted for him. For them. Yet, the jealousy gnaws at me, sharp and unrelenting. I want to be happy for them, I should be happy for them. But each comment feels like a tiny dagger, reminding me of what I’ve deprived myself of.

I exhale and close the lid to my laptop. I tap along the table just trying to shake my head from whatever confusion is clouding it. I just need to get out.

The group talks amongst themselves as they celebrate, and I inevitably fade into the background. I start gathering all my belongings to throw into my tote bag to hopefully make a quiet exit.

“You liked the music video?” A voice startles me from across the round table. 

I look up to find Noah. I quickly glance to the red solo cup he’s holding carefully in his hand. It makes me wonder what’s in it and if it will lead to the same aftermath I've seen before with a drunken Noah. It’s only when I look around that I realize that each of them has a drink in hand and they’ve put music on. 

“Yeah.” I shrug, “I think you guys did good.” 

“We, you mean.” He corrects.

“We?” 

“Yeah. You helped pick out the outfits and did all the promo stuff, did you not?” He raises a brow. 

“Yeah? I guess I did.” 

Noah rests his arm on a nearby high-top table, taking a sip of his drink. “We made a deal, you and I a while ago, do you remember it?” He questions.

I silently filter through our meetings in my mind. While working together we’ve made many deals, but I land on the one I know he’s talking about and a smile creeps across my lips. “‘I’ll do my job well, if you do yours.’” 

An unexpected wide grin pulls at his mouth, “Well, I think we both did our jobs well here.” 

He was right, we did. Looking back at the meeting just a few months ago seems so juvenile now. Noah was so angry about me being brought on to the crew and while I wouldn’t say he’s necessarily thrilled that I’m here now, I can tell that I’ve grown on him. I proved myself to him, at least a little bit. 

“Yeah, we did.” I nod with a genuine smile, “Proud of us.” 

He wrapped an arm around me and gave me a squeeze, smiling down at me. “Me too.”

I leaned into him and caught a glimpse of Nicholas watching us both. The look on his face was flat and filled with an unreadable expression. 

My eyes flicker down immediately to avoid him then pull away from Noah’s grasp. He then goes on to ramble about music and the album, I’m not quite sure why he’s over here talking to me and not to the rest of them but, here I am. His words fade into the background as I look past him to spot Nick again. This time he’s caught up in some excited conversation between Brian and Folio. His wide smile meets his eyes filling them with such happiness as he laughs. His tattooed fingers interrupt the condensation on a beer bottle and his hair is gathered up into a low bun. He looks breathtaking and it suddenly fills me with a sadness I don’t think I’ll be able to beat here. 

I’ll never have the opportunity to be with him at a party like this, or out to dinner or have a normal, run-of-the-mill relationship. There’s a bit of heartbreak in watching him ensue in an interaction we may never have now that I’ve ruined everything.

But I ruined it for a reason, my brain reminds me.

I catch Nicholas’s eye. His smile falters, and for a moment, I think he senses my unease. I quickly look away, swallowing the lump in my throat.

The ache that makes home in my ribcage does not care for reason; its only concern is pain. It suddenly becomes unbearable, and I need to leave, now. I need to go home, I need to fucking get of out here.

 “I’m sorry, Noah but I have to go.” I hurriedly throw my bag over my shoulder and snatch my keys.

“What? Why? Is everything okay?” Noah asks, concerned.

“Yeah, I just… I need to go,” I say, my voice wavering as I avoid his gaze. “I have an important meeting I have to be home for.” My hand tightens around my keys so hard that the jagged edges dig into the flesh of my palm.

I stand up, the room spinning slightly as I do, despite not having anything to drink. I head for the door, each step feeling heavier than the last. I can feel Nicholas’s eyes on me, but I don’t dare look back.

Pushing through the front door, I take a deep breath of the cool night air, but it does little to calm the storm inside me. I walk quickly to my rental car, fumbling with the keys as tears blur my vision. Finally, I manage to unlock the door and slide into the driver’s seat. 

As I drive home, the tears flow like rivers down my cheeks. The ache in my chest is relentless, a constant reminder of what I’ve given up and the lies I’ve told. I made my choice, and now I have to live with it. But the pain doesn’t care about reason or decisions. It only knows how to hurt.

I don’t stop driving until I reach my Airbnb. I stumble inside, dropping my bag on the floor and collapsing onto the couch. The tears flow freely now as I sink into the furniture, wishing things could be different but knowing they’ll never be. As much as I’d like to, I can’t undo my decision nor change the reasons behind it. As long as I work for them, Nick and I can never be anything more than just friends. Maybe in another life, there’s a him and I that work, but it’s not this one.

It doesn’t matter how much it hurts seeing him at events, or getting comments in videos, or even just being around him. He’s not mine and he can’t be. I’m not what he wants anyway, his career is just taking off the last thing he needs is to be entangled with someone who wants more than just sex. Is that even what I want? I barely even have time to fucking cry in the car, how would I balance a relationship?

Mourning the loss of what could’ve been is hard, but an inevitable breakup would be worse. However, just because I chose the lesser of two evils doesn’t mean it’s easy.

I glance at the time on my watch and scramble when I realize I’m late for my meeting. Unfortunately, I didn’t lie to Noah about that.

Flipping open my laptop, I’m right on time when the zoom call rushes in. I wipe the remnants of my tears and allow myself one more sniffle before answering.

The bright, shining faces of my original clients light up the screen. With drinks and cigars in hand, they greet me with their usual exuberance. They’re getting one last party in before they leave for tour soon. It’s the first tour I haven’t joined them on since working for them. The realization that I’m not going with them mingled with the feelings I just ran away from only worsens the pain in my torso. There’s nothing more I wish to do than to just run off with them to Europe and forget all about this mess with Nick. But I have too much on my plate to be touring with them right now, so I’m working remotely for them temporarily.

Their naturally cheery demeanors lift my spirits, and while it is still a work call, they always seem to make work fun. It makes me wish even more that I was going with them. Working for them has always been easy and enjoyable. The stark contrast between them and Omens is jarring. While we do have a longer history, Greta has always felt comforting, uplifting and loving – like family. I always feel valued and appreciated, and I never have to question my belonging with them.

Omens, on the other hand, has been nothing but complicated, painful, and uncomfortable. Instead of feeling like I’m part of something, I often feel like I’m navigating through a minefield between Noah’s volatility and Nick’s complexity. It’s hard to feel motivated when the environment is so hostile, and it leaves me questioning my place and purpose. Up until recently that is – things seem to be looking up now that Noah and I are getting along.

Comparing the two bands makes me long for the simplicity and warmth of Greta even more. The comfort and camaraderie I immediately feel when answering the zoom only highlights the cold, challenging reality of working with Omens. It’s a reminder of what I’m lacking and a painful acknowledgment of the complication of my current situation. The situation I put myself in.

Yet, Noah’s words ring in my ears, “We did our jobs well.” Perhaps it’s not as bleak as it once was. The memory of our truce plants a seed of hope in my chest. Maybe Bryan was right, that they just need time to come around.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” The bassist, Sam, jokes, pulling me out of my thoughts. The bright white of my screen flashing on my pale face in the darkness of my living room can’t be doing me any favors.

“You need a drink, Val?” Jake, the other long-haired guitarist asks, raising an enticing drink in a short glass.

“Maybe a smoke? You are in California after all.” The shaggy-haired singer, Josh, teases.

I force a smile and shake my head. “I would kill for both of those right now. Just a fucking exhausting day.”

“I know, our girl’s makin’ it big, taking on new bands, new quests.” Jake states in a dramatic, faux-English accent. “On to new horizons.” His arm splays out theatrically to a non-existent skyline.

“Leavin’ us behind!” Sam adds loudly in a whiny tone as he takes a sip of his cocktail.

The last words shoving a sword into my gut. Maybe Nick isn’t the only loss I’m mourning. Working for Greta has consumed my entire life for years, they’re the closest thing to family I’ve got. Perhaps not being engulfed in them constantly has left me lonely.

I roll my eyes lightheartedly and shake my head, “I could never leave you guys, you know that.” Clearing my throat, I change the subject. “How are you guys feeling about the tour?”

Their excitement is infectious, and I find myself relaxing a bit as they talk about their plans and the cities they’ll visit. For a moment, I forget about Nick and the tangled mess of emotions he brings.

“Hey, Val!” Josh shouts, raising a glass snapping me out of my haze. “We’re going to miss you on this one!”

“Yeah, it won’t be the same without you,” The quiet drummer, Danny, chimes in.

I force a smile, trying to push the sadness aside. “I’ll miss you guys too. But I’ll be there in spirit, and we’ll keep in touch. You know I’ll be checking in every day.”

They laugh and raise their glasses in a toast, their contagious energy making it a little easier to breathe.

The boys filter out, saying their goodbyes to entertain the other guests at their party.

“Yeah, I’ll catch up to you guys later. I have to ask Vallie about something.” Sam waves the boys away.

He turns in his chair to face me, a look of concern washed over his face as he tucks a chunk of long hair behind his ear. “Are you okay? You seem a bit off?” He asks softly.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my voice. "I'm fine, Sammy. Just a lot going on."

He looks at me for a long moment, his puppy-dog eyes filled with understanding. "You know you can talk to me, right? If you ever need anything. We're all going to miss you on this tour, but we understand why you can't come."

I nod, "I know. Thanks, Sam," I reply, with a tight smile. "I appreciate it."

Under other circumstances, I would maybe try to talk to them but they’re so excited for Europe, I can’t possibly weigh them down with anything serious.

He gives me a reassuring smile. "Take care of yourself, okay? And if you need to vent or anything, just call. We're all here for you, we love you a lot."

"Thanks," I say again, feeling a lump form in my throat. "I will. I love you guys too."

With one last nod, Sam ends the call, leaving me alone with my thoughts and letting reality crash back in. I close my laptop and lean back in my seat, staring at the other side of the vacant couch. The room feels emptier than before, the silence more suffocating. I can’t shake the feeling of being left behind, both professionally and personally.

I set my laptop on the coffee table and pull a blanket over my body in hopes that it would help me disappear. I curl up in the corner of the couch with my knees up to my chest. I haven’t felt heartache like this since high school and it’s over something that was never even serious. My mind keeps drifting back to Nick, to the hurt and anger in his eyes when I pushed him away. I know it was the right decision, but the pain is parasitic in a way I was never prepared for.

I blink at the blank wall in front of me. I’m not home, I’m not with friends or anyone I know. I work for a band that half hates me most days, I fell for a boy I can’t have and I’m staying in a pay-by-weekly Airbnb. I’m alone in a city I hate, in a home that’s not my own with people who barely like me. That’s when I realize that perhaps heartache isn’t the only pain that sits heavy in my heart – it’s also the weight of loneliness that’s been consuming me, rotting me from the inside out.

Only when I acknowledge the seclusion is when it wraps around me like a suffocating shroud, seeping into my very core and eroding my sense of self.

I close my eyes and let out a long, shaky sigh, trying to steady my racing thoughts. I have to keep moving forward, despite the overwhelming difficulty and the sadness in my bones. There’s a faint flicker of hope buried somewhere beneath the despair, a small, stubborn, workaholic part of me that refuses to give up. For now, I hold on to that glimmer, however faint, and vow to take things one step at a time.

This was the 4th rehearsal in a row that I’ve attended this week, and while it never gets old watching their sets, the content becomes repetitive. So, while the boys are playing and Bryan snaps shots of them, I scroll through Zillow.

I don’t even notice that they’re done until Nicholas is beside me cracking a water bottle open. “What’re you lookin’ at?” He asks. Slowly but surely, we’ve been making our way back up to being friendly, despite the break down I had weeks ago after the music video launch. If I just focus on the work, I can almost stifle down our history. Almost.

“Oh shit, you scared me.” I chuckle but it soon fades with the frustration that’s built up over the past couple days. “Augh, I have to find an apartment or something because this Airbnb is getting so expensive. My other client’s tour just started, and I just took on another band, so I’m stuck here for a while. But I can’t fucking find an apartment building that doesn’t have a waitlist before next fall.”

“Shit sucks around here.” Chimes in Jolly from the corner taking a sip of his Gatorade.

“Here let me see.” Nick swivels my laptop towards him before I have a chance to stop him. He holds his tongue between his lips with his brows furrowed, like he’s focused on some super spy mission. He scrolls for a while, adds some filters, scrolls, takes more filters out, then turns the laptop back to me. “Ta da!” He smiles his signature grin and it’s nice to see it in my direction again.

“Whoa, how the fuck did you find that!” My eyes nearly pop out of my head as I scroll through the listing, it having almost everything I was looking for. “Oh my god, they’re doing a showing for a perfect place right now, I gotta go.” I hastily begin packing my things up, haphazardly throwing all my scattered belongings into my tote.

“Whoa whoa,” Halts Jolly, “You’re not going alone.”

I furrow my brows at him, confused, “What do you mean?”

“Listen, do you know how unsafe it is for a woman to go to realty showings alone?” His voice is so filled with genuine concern and a splash of paranoia.

“You need to stop watching so much true crime dude.” Folio rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, he’s obsessed.” Bryan adds with a pointed thumb towards the long-haired man. 

I blink up at Jolly who’s face is dead serious. “We’re coming with you.”

I normally wouldn’t let men tell me what to do or how to do it, but maybe Jolly is right. Men are dangerous especially around here and I have also heard horror stories about women going to check out a house and it turning out to be a sketchy place with an equally creepy man.

“Okay.” I nod. “Fine.”

Looking over the four of them, I realize that Noah had already disappeared. He’s been cutting out immediately after each rehearsal, so I think nothing of it.

“I got nothing better to do.” Shrugs Nicholas. I don’t look too much at him because if I did, I would notice the strain behind his eyes - one that looks both pained and conflicted. 

Arriving at the open house, I walk around the small loft, letting my fingers trail over the cracked railing of the stairs. The apartment is smaller, dingier and dustier than advertised. When I make it upstairs, the 4 are up there already. I catch them looking unimpressed, almost disgusted at the place but immediately feign impression for my sake.

“It’s…pretty nice, Vallie.” Says Folio, with a forced smile.

“Oh, spare me, it’s a dump.” I sigh, defeated. “The asking price is like double with all the fees and shit. It’s ridiculous.” I rub two fingers into my temple. “I don’t know what I’m gonna fucking do.”

There’s a bit of silence filled with pitiful faces from the group. Nicholas’ eyes look focused but lost in thought. Before any of them could speak, Bryan perks up. 

“My old room in the house is empty since I moved out last year. Why doesn’t she just move in with you guys?” He suggests as if it’s the most obvious answer. 

My mouth nearly falls open at the insane suggestion. The trio’s focus snaps to him with the most shocked and betrayed looks on their faces, brows raised and jaws open. 

“What?” I ask for clarification, because he couldn’t possibly be serious.

Bryan ignores their reactions. “Exactly what I said. It just makes sense? You’re with them all the time.”

“I uh-“ I falter, somewhat overwhelmed with the four of them looking at me. “I mean, it really seems like that’s a group decision…”

“I’m cool with it.” Folio surprisingly speaks up first, “We do have the spare room and we could use the extra rent money. You take a lot of Ubers to get to us anyway, so.”

For once Folio seemed to be cooperative, nice even. Maybe they are warming up to me afterall.

Jolly sighs heavily, “They have good points. It would be convenient but… Noah’s not going to be happy.”

Anxiety wins over the excitement dying to bloom in my stomach as I look over and meet Nick’s gaze. His eyes contain the same pained and confused look as before. He’s conflicted.

“I couldn’t give less of a fuck about what Noah wants. He’s outnumbered 4-1.” Nick snaps. “She needs a place, and we have one.”

I tug at my lip and contemplate my options. This would be the easiest and cheapest path. “Okay fine. Just for now. I’m gonna keep looking so I don’t overstay my welcome.” I meet eyes with each one sternly. “Thank you.”

I’m grateful for the offer but I can’t help but be nervous about being so close to Nicholas all of the time. The room I’d be staying in is the empty room between Noah and Nicholas’ rooms. I’d be between the two I would least like to be around. I contemplate backing out for a brief moment but quickly remember how much the Airbnb is costing me weekly. As much as I value my independence and solitude, it’s just not worth the cost and isn’t sustainable. The last thing I ever want to do is live with them, but it seems to be the only good option right now.

A week later, the boys help carry the last of my boxes up the stairs while I warn them about how if they break anything they’ll be paying for it.

Nick, Jolly, and Folio are all out of breath as they set down my boxes.

“Jesus, how do you have so many boxes of stuff from that tiny Airbnb?” Folio asks, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

I shrug, “I had some of my stuff from home shipped out to me, since I’m staying in Cali longer than I expected.”

Jolly and Folio filter out leaving me alone with Nicholas. I’m immediately on my toes around him. Just being in the house with him is difficult. The only other two times I’ve been here, we’ve slept together - once on the couch downstairs and another in the room beside us now. It’s hard not thinking about having him that way again with those reminders all around me. The memories pack a punch not just in my core but in my heart as well. We’ve just started to get back to normal after our little falling out. But what even is back to normal with us? Were we ever really normal?

“Do you need help unpacking?” He asks though it doesn’t seem forced or ingenuine.

I ponder the offer as I shift on my feet but ultimately shake my head. “Not now. I don’t know if I’m going to fully unpack yet, since I’m still looking for another place.”

He nods, seeming somewhat unhappy about my response. “Okay well, if you need help with anything, let me know.”

“Okay, I will. Thank you.” I scratch my arm anxiously and pause before I speak again. “I feel bad… I know Noah’s unhappy because I’m here.”

Nicholas sucks in a breath. “Yeah, he’s not happy. But I don’t really know what else to say to him. Maybe you should talk to him.”

I let out a laugh. “Yeah fucking right. I’m sure I’m the last person he wants to talk to right now.”

“You never know. It might help.” He steps towards the door to leave. “I think we’re gonna order Chinese for dinner. You cool with that?”

I nod and he reciprocates before leaving the room downstairs. 

I take a deep breath and shake out the nerves from my hands as I walk to Noah’s door. I give it a knock and wait for a response.

“Come in.” He calls and I peek through the cracked door.

He rolls his eyes and glares at me. “Great, it’s you.”

“You know you don’t have to be like that.” I say calmly while I push the door open more and lean against the door frame.

He doesn’t even look at me and keeps his eyes on the TV across from his bed where he lays. His hands are diligently working on a gaming controller. I can’t help but notice how his long-tattooed fingers rapidly and strategically click on the buttons. Something about it creates a slight buzz between my legs.

“You just invited yourself into my home. I think I have some right to talk to you any way I want to.” He retorts.

“I didn’t invite myself; I was invited. By your bandmates, your best friends. But you know that already. You’re just being an asshole.”

“Again, this is my house. I can be an asshole in my house if I want to. This is what you signed up for. But you know that already.” He mocks me with my own words.

I try my best to keep my bubbling anger from spilling. We had been doing so well since the thrift store, but it seems that we’re back to square one all over again.

“I’m not trying to be here forever, alright? This is temporary. Like I want to be here any more than you want me to be. Believe it or not, this isn’t exactly a walk in the park for me either.” I sigh, trying to keep my composure. “I’m just trying to make the best of it while I’m here, okay? Can we agree to just be civil?”

He glares at me, but I know he knows that I’m right. “No promises.”

As I look around my new room, I suddenly feel closed in by the towers of boxes that surround me. I should’ve waited until after I signed some sort of apartment lease before having some of my stuff shipped from New York. I was just homesick for a place of my own again, that I wanted my belongings outside of what fits inside a couple carry-on suitcases. I’ve been living out of suitcases for longer than I’ve ever wanted and so maybe unpacking some of my clothes and things wouldn’t hurt much. Afterall, I could always just repack them. When I stand and find that some of the towers are even taller than me, I recognize that I might need help afterall. 

I find myself in front of Nick’s door and a nervous feeling swirls in my stomach that I try to ignore. 

This is a bad idea, I think to myself.

But it’s too late. My knuckles have already met the door. 

After a couple moments, Nick opens the door with a gaming headset pulled off his ear and a controller in his hand. It’s clear by the way his eyebrows drop that he was expecting anyone but me. The look is enough to make me back out of my own decision. 

“Oh, sorry to bother you, you’re obviously busy, nevermind!” I ramble quickly in a way I rarely do - but I rarely feel the way I do with him. Mid-turn to get back to my room he unexpectedly grasps my wrist, not hard but not soft either, enough to keep me in place. 

“What’s up?” He asks and I can’t tell if he’s annoyed or genuinely curious. 

“Oh, um, well, you see,” 

Fucking get it together 

“I was going to ask if I could take you up on your offer? To help me unpack?” I already regret the words before they leave my mouth. “But if you’re busy it’s no big deal!!” 

“I, uh, yeah. Sure. Let me just finish this round and I’ll come help.” He begins pulling his headset back on before I can fully answer.

“Oh, yeah sure. Take your time!” 

He closes his door, and I dart to my room, immediately pacing the small amount of floor I have available.

Why did I fucking do that?

“You okay?” His voice speaks from the doorway where he’s propped up against. 

I nearly jump out of my skin, not expecting him there so soon. It makes me wonder if he had just quit his game instead of finishing it like he said. 

“Oh, yeah yeah.” I wave him off. “I always get nervous with moves.” 

It was a lie. With my job, I’ve had to get used to moving often, so it doesn’t phase me any more. But with the shake in my voice, I know it wasn’t a great sell. 

“Right.” He replies skeptically, pushing himself off the frame. “What did you need help with?”

“I need that box up there.” I point to the box above my head. “And that one.” I gesture to the one right beside it at the same height. “And that one.”

He chuckles at how the boxes seem like skyscrapers to me, “Okay sure.” 

He pulls each one down with ease. 

“Anything else?” He asks. 

I sink down to the floor behind one of the large boxes. “I’m just gonna start unpacking these, if you wanna help.” I shrug up at him. 

Nick looks over at another box, grabbing something before handing it out to me. “I think you might need this.”

Blood rushes to my cheeks at the mistake, “Thank you.” I lift up and take the box cutter from him. 

I thought that would be the limit of his contribution but to my surprise, he sits down across from me. When I give him a confused look he simply jokes, “I’m really interested in what the fuck are in all these boxes.”

I bite down on my bottom lip to keep a grin from spreading across my lips. After our conversation at the music video shoot, this is the last thing I expected him to do. 

I’m still sat on the floor with half empty boxes while Nick acts as the fuel to the operation, putting things wherever I direct him. He slides a chunk of books into a bookshelf that was left behind. Books are always the first thing I like to unpack after the necessities. They're so personal and really give a space a real essence of you. I’m only unpacking my favorites to display for now since I don’t know how long my stay will be.

“You sure do have a lot of books about pirates?” He states quizzically, with an arched brow and a chuckle. 

“Oh,” I laugh, “Yeah, one of my clients really loves them for some reason.” I gesture to the books he just shelved. “I get one of those every Christmas. Those and a box of fancy cigars.”

His eyes look over the spines of the grandiose black leather books. “You’ve been with them a long time.” He observes each one, then looks over at me. “6 Christmases.” 

I blink up at him because there’s no way it’s been 6 years already. Logically, I knew I’ve accumulated a large stack of those books, but it isn’t until now that it clicks. “Wow. You’re right. I hadn’t thought about it like that.” 

“They’re lucky to have you.” He says, crouching down to get more books. “You’ve done so good for us so far, I can’t imagine what your main act gets.” 

The statement feels almost double edged, though it doesn’t seem that he intended it that way. It’s simple and meant to be flattering but it just settles a guilt in my bones. It sounds like he believes that Omens aren’t a priority, which isn’t true. 

“It’s not like that.” I scoff, handing him another set of non-pirate books.

“Oh sure, as if you don’t prioritize Harry Styles over us.” He shoots back playfully.

The Harry bit has gone so far that it makes me wonder if they truly believe it, it would be hilarious if they did. 

“You know I don’t manage him. Wish I did though.” I laugh, shaking my head. I grab another couple books and tug at my lip contemplating whether I should start some lighthearted competition. “You know… Noah guessed my ‘mystery client’.” 

A mischievous smirk blooms on my lips when Nick’s brows raise with an, “Oh did he now?” 

I nod, “Yep! Gonna have to step up your game I guess.” I shrug jokingly.

“Well, I’m either gonna have to go shake him down or,” He points to the room next door with the box cutter then looks at the mess around us. “Or I’m just gonna have to keep unpacking until I figure it out.” 

A giggle escapes me and a warmth blooms in my tummy. I hate that this is how my body reacts to him, but I quickly snuff it out. “I guess so.” 

As he continues to help me, the room overflows with laughter, and I can’t remember ever having fun unpacking. I try not to dwell on the way I feel when I look at him for too long. If I can just push aside the flutter in my chest when he crinkles his nose, or when he smiles wide and sparkles fill his eyes, or when he makes my name sound like music — if I can just move past all of that, then maybe living here won’t be so bad. Perhaps friendship with Nick wouldn’t be so difficult if it looks like this. 

The first week was awkward and uncomfortable and foreign, but the boys acclimated faster than I imagined - which, thinking about it now, made sense. They’d spent the better half of their lives being forced to live with random people for unforeseen periods of time. They just moved around me, and I moved around them, we all were on different schedules and busy doing other things better than paying attention to each other. Outside of rehearsals or meetings, I rarely saw them. The boys have an affinity for the nighttime while I’ve been operating on three different world clocks due to my other clients touring in different countries. 

I found that juggling three bands when I was barely managing two, was becoming quite taxing. I usually pride myself on my work ethic and multi-tasking skills, but it’s wearing on me in ways I’ve never experienced before. My sleep schedule is basically nonexistent, having to be awake for California, Europe, and Australia times simultaneously. I work between cat naps and run off of at least 4 cups of coffee daily. While work has been miserable, it’s definitely helped keep my mind distracted.

After a much-needed shower and a fresh set of button-down pajamas, I follow the smell of pizza downstairs. I find the boys gathered around the kitchen.

“Hey Val.” Folio smiles then falters, “You look fucking exhausted.” He shakes his head apologetically, “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Just - help yourself, there’s plenty. Noah can put away like three pies on his own.” He chuckles nervously, pushing past me to the living room. 

“Think of it as your belated welcome party.” Jolly says before taking a bite, leaning against the counter. 

“Thanks.” I smile but it doesn’t meet my eyes when I notice Nick remained silent and Noah’s absent.

Jolly nudges my shoulder as he walks out of the kitchen, “Noah’s picking out a movie for us, if you wanna join.” 

“Cool.” I nod, fidgeting with my fingers. As much as I’d love to protest wasting my time, all I need to do right now is sit and turn my brain off for an hour or two. 

“Can’t guarantee it’ll be any good if Noah’s picking.” He calls over his shoulder. 

“Hey!” Shouts Noah from the couch. 

The edges of my lips curl up slightly at the interaction but quickly fall. Even though it's been about a week, this is the first actual night of us all together. It’s only then that it settles in my bones the reality of the move.

I precariously pluck a slice from a half-eaten pie and plop it on a paper plate. “You uh,” I thumb over my shoulder. “Stayin’ for the movie?”

He pushes himself off the granite counter. “I was planning on it, yeah.” He peels another slice from the round and places it on his already full plate. He’s in a dark hoodie for a band I’ve never heard of with the sleeves pulled up to his elbows, showing off all the beautiful ink on his arms. I try not to let my eyes linger too long on the way his fingers fold the slice in half. “You?” 

I steal a water bottle from the fridge and lean against the counter. “Yeah, if he picks a good movie.” I tease. 

He nods and makes his way out of the kitchen. 

I shake my head to wake myself up some more and meet the rest of them in the living room. My feet are the first to freeze when my eyes land on the screen. Noah chose the same indie horror movie that Nick and I had chosen the night he stayed in with me. How he managed to find and decide on the same random movie we did, I’m not sure. What I am sure of is the way my heart feels like it fell into my stomach. My hand grips the plate, and my eyes instinctively search for Nick. His gaze meets mine, the look in his eyes about matches my own before he hardens it. His jaw clenches and he focuses back on finding his place on the couch. 

When I finally make my way over, I find there’s only one seat left between Noah and Nicholas. I take a silent but deep inhale before squeezing between them. The close proximity to Nicholas sends a familiar, anxious thrill through me, but I push it aside, trying to focus on the moment. We’re friends now. Colleagues. I have to keep reminding myself of that. We’ve only ever been colleagues.

“Alright, everyone shut up.” Noah waves a lanky arm around with the remote clutched in his hand. “Movie time!” 

Folio reaches up and flips the lights off to cast an eerie darkness across the room, perfect for the mood of the movie. As the opening credits roll, my heart drops sharply and makes the idea of the pizza on my plate nauseating. The memory hits me like a wave, threatening to pull me under. I can see it so clearly in my head - us sharing two different kinds of chips, Doritos and Cheetos. I can hear the storm that raged that night, the one that kept him from leaving. I remember vividly the conversation we had about having that team-building party. I can hear him promising that the boys would come around. I blink quickly to keep tears from spilling down my cheeks. The last thing I need is to cry in front of them. 

Noah nudges me with his elbow. “You okay? You look a little pale.” He asks with a smirk, teasing me as if I was already scared fifteen minutes into the movie. In the corner of my eye, I can see Nick glance over at us, trying to disguise the fact he’s obviously eavesdropping. 

“Yeah, just... tired.” I half-lie, giving him a weak smile while keeping my eyes on the tv.

“Sure, scaredy cat.” He laughs, returning his focus to the screen.

The movie continues, and I’m transported back to that rainy night. I wasn’t nervous that entire night until we were sitting criss-crossed next to each other watching this specific scene before the first jumpscare. The flutter of nerves didn’t find home in my belly until we both jolted at the perfectly timed jumpscare and our knees ended up pressed together for the rest of the night. I remember the way his hand brushed against mine, the way we laughed and screamed at all the right moments. Sitting here now, with him so close yet so far, is torture. 

As the film progresses, I can’t help but notice Nicholas shifting slightly in his seat. His arm brushes against mine, sending a jolt of electricity through me. I hope no one else notices my reaction. It’s jumpy and juvenile, the way we both try our best not to have any part of our body touching for too long. 

Halfway through the movie, a particularly frightening scene makes everyone scream and laugh at each other’s fear. Nicholas turns to me, and for a brief moment, our eyes meet. There’s a flicker of something in his gaze, something that tells me he remembers too. But then he looks away, and the moment vanishes.

The rest of the movie is a blur. I’m too focused on the memories, the emotions, and the painful reality that the past is just that—the past. When the credits finally roll, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and everything is suffocating and tight. 

Folio reaches up from his seat in the recliner and flicks the light back on. “Jesus fucking christ, Noah.”

“What the fuck.” Echoes Jolly.

Noah grins widely, obviously proud of his peculiar choice. “You’re welcome.” 

“It was great.” I rush the words out and quickly push myself off the couch. “I need to get some air. Excuse me.”

A cackle erupts from Noah, “Musta scared the shit out of her.” 

As I speed to the front door, I hear someone smack him with a pillow and Nick’s voice telling him not to be an ass.

I nearly burst through the front door and find salvation in gripping the porch railing. For a moment I question if I might actually get ill. Never in my adult life have I ever felt such visceral agony over another human being, nonetheless a man. The cool night air brings a welcome relief and finally I feel like I can suck in a full breath.

I squeeze my eyes shut when I hear the door open behind me and my heart races when Nick appears in my peripheral. Fuck. 

“Hey,” he says softly.

“Hey,” I reply, my voice almost trembling.

He pulls something from his pocket, flipping the top open and holding out a box of Newports to me. “Want one?” 

I sigh, contemplating it even though I haven't touched a cigarette since college, but god do I need it now. “Thanks.” I pluck a cig from the box and place it between my lips. I cup the end from the wind while he flicks the lighter for me. The second it’s sizzling and lit I take a much-needed deep inhale, letting the nicotine fill every gap in my lungs giving me a split second of reprieve. 

I close my eyes as I exhale, hoping the smoke would take the pain that sits in my chest. For a moment, we stand there in silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging between us. The sounds of the night filled the quiet, frogs croaking and far off traffic from the city. 

He steps closer, close enough that I can feel his warmth and the smoke of his cigarette. “I remember that night, you know.”

I pause, swallowing hard. “Me too.”

The ache in my chest is palpable, like it sits between each individual rib. I feel it in my bones, in my veins, in my fucking marrow. 

When I made the decision to distance myself, to hurt him, I thought it was the best decision for us all. I had no idea it would hurt this bad. It hardly seems like a good idea now. 

Every part of my body tenses up like a muscle throbbing in pain. My index and middle fingers involuntarily squish the cigarette, and my fists tighten. I have no reason to feel this way, I did this. 

“Val,” he says, his voice breaking through my turmoil. “We never really… talked.”

I bite my lip hard, the cigarette trembling between my fingers. “What’s there to talk about, Nick?” I can’t bear to look up at him. 

“Us, Vallie.” He says more sternly this time, turning to me fully. “You just shut me out. And I got upset so I walked away, but we didn’t talk about it.” 

Of course, the only man I fall for is the one that actually wants to talk about his feelings. 

“We made a choice, Nick.” I grind my teeth to ward off tears, keeping my gaze focused on a far off tree. 

He shakes his head, stepping even closer. “No, you made a choice. And I went along with it because I thought it was what you wanted. But standing here now like this… I can’t help but wonder if you made a mistake.”

I close my eyes and exhale. All I want to do is give in to him, tell him he’s right, that I did make a mistake. But my reasoning and logic remains the same. 

The words hang in the air, heavier than the smoke around us. I don’t dare look up at him, tears blurring my vision. “Maybe I did. But we can’t. And I told you,” I pause, giving myself one final second to rethink my decision. “I’m seeing someone.”

He snuffs his cigarette out on the wood railing then grasps my shoulder harshly, turning my body to face him. “If you’re going to lie to me, at least do it to my face.”

I drop my own cigarette from the sudden action, and he quickly stomps it out for me. My eyes widen at his words and his shift in demeanor. I blink up at him and shake my head. “I’m not lying.”

“Yes, you are.” He takes a step forward causing me to step backwards, closing me into the porch railing. His hand finds my jaw holding it firmly in place, analyzing me with furrowed brows. It runs an ice-cold shiver down my spine. “I can see it in your eyes. I can hear it in your voice.”

My chest rises and falls rapidly. “I am, seeing someone Nick. I’m happy.” I lie through my teeth even though it’s useless. 

“No, you’re not, Vallie.” His words are sharp and intentional. “Look at you.” He gestures over my body. “You’re shaking through a cigarette just because you’re standing next to me.” 

“God.” A tear slips down my cheek and I try to take a breath, but I feel even more suffocated than before. “Fuck, Nick.” I harshly push him away. I look between us and still for a moment before tears prickle my eyes. “I’m sorry, I can’t fucking do this.”

I rush past him, through the front door, and don’t stop running until I close my bedroom door behind me. I slump against it, sliding down until I’m sitting on the floor. The weight of everything crashes down on me, and I bury my face in my hands.

“FUCK,” I scream, the sound muffled by my palms to not be heard by anyone else. The tears come hard and fast, my shoulders shaking with each sob. I’ve never felt so vulnerable, so exposed. The pain is unbearable, and all I can do is cry.

Thankfully the boys had already gone to bed the night of me and Nick’s fight, so we didn’t have to answer any uncomfortable questions. I cried, got it out of my system, and isolated the emotions into a little folder I tucked into my heart, just as I did the last time. Although, I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t getting more and more difficult. Two weeks later, I’m still avoiding Nick, but I don’t act like a scrambling mouse any time he enters the room. Tensions have calmed down and it’s impressive how much can be hidden behind a mask. 

Today, I’m tearing the kitchen apart looking for a measuring cup, how they’ve made it this far without a measuring cup, I have no idea. 

As I’m bent over into a lower cabinet, I spot Nicholas in my peripheral. Obviously, he’s the one I’d been avoiding the most but the feeling was mutual, us rarely interacting with each other after movie night. We barely spoke to each other during meetings and avoided each other around the house. 

“Looking for something?” He asks with a bit of condescension in his tone. 

The comment immediately irritates me as I’d been hungrily searching for this goddamn utensil for the past half hour and all I fucking want are pancakes on my day off. I bite my tongue in order to not snap at him and back out of the cabinet, standing up. “Would you happen to know where a girl could find a goddamn measuring cup around here?” My irritated tone greatly outweighed Nick’s more subtle one.

His brows raised, shocked that I’d even speak that way, nonetheless to him. His brows didn’t stay up though, they fell rather quickly into thick, straight lines. The way his face turned cold so quickly made me shiver with a fear crawling up my back. “I know you’re not speaking to me that way in my own house.” 

Immediately, I want to rival it but try my best to stifle it down. However, the feeling was too strong. “I know you aren’t talking to me like that, period.” Crossing my arms over my chest and raising a brow at him. 

He steps towards me, “With work? Sure, I can play nice. Outside of work? I can talk to you however I want.” 

My brows furrow at his sudden hostility. Even though we’d been avoiding each other, things have been calm and professional. He’s never spoken to me like this before and while I’m used to dealing with intimidating industry men on my own, the darkness in his tone has my heart thumping in fear. For the sake of my self-respect, I square my shoulders and straighten my back. “Don’t fucking talk to me like that.” 

“Or what?” He provokes, stepping even closer to me. “You work for us, remember? You’re nothing more than a glorified assistant.” 

My jaw practically drops to the floor and red-hot anger rushes through my veins. I hear the smack first, ringing through the kitchen before I feel the static-y stinging in my palm. I gasp and bring my hands to my mouth while I watch him quickly reach for his reddening cheek. I instinctively want to apologize but, he deserved it. 

When his eyes return to mine, they’re the darkest gray I’ve ever seen them and the fearful thumping in my chest returns. He steps forward, backing me into the corner of the cabinets and the air in my lungs vacates when I look up to find his eyes burning holes in my body. My eyes widen at the sudden, unexpected action. “Nick.” I tremble out in the space between us. 

“You think you can just move in and run shit.” He taunts, his voice low and gravelly. “Haven’t even been in the house a month and you’re already acting up.” 

The fight or flight response in my body begs me to cry, to apologize and shove him away but the burning lava in my bloodstream demands otherwise. I clench my jaw matching the intensity of his stare. “I’m an adult Nicholas, I can do whatever the fuck I want in the home I pay to live in.” 

His hands land on the granite countertop at each side of my hips. “You have one hell of a fucking attitude today.”

The energy shifts into something slightly less aggressive and more sensual. As much as it should disgust me after all the shit he just pulled, it has my thighs pressing together. 

I cock my head at him, and in a tone that borders on innocent, I challenge him, “Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it?” 

His hand goes to touch my hip but stops short, stopping himself. We both know the lie I told him, but it seems like he might’ve actually believed it afterall. He lowered to just below my ear. “If I could, I’d make sure the only thing coming out of that bratty little mouth of yours are those pretty noises you make.” He whispers, his voice low and raspy.

His words went straight to my core, filling it with rampant buzzing. The war in my head waged between keeping up with my plan versus just giving into him like I always seem to do. However, it seemed as though the wetness pooling between my legs was winning.

I must’ve taken too long for him, long enough to crack his resolve just a bit. He pressed his forehead against mine, forcing my focus up to him. The look in his eyes had switched to something softer than before, if I didn’t know better, I’d say there was a hint of sadness in his crystal grey eyes. “Can I touch you?” He asks barely above a whisper and when I don’t answer immediately, he begs again. “I need to touch you, Val.” His voice carried what sounded like a deep desperation, and it all yanked at my heart - but guilt was a beast for a different time. 

Truth is, that I feel the same desperation as he does. I nod quickly against him, “Touch me.” I cave into him, like I always do. “Touch me, touch me, touch me.” I repeat softly before his lips clash into mine and his hands finally meet my hips, immediately pulling me onto the counter. As soon as the coolness of the granite meets my thighs, my eyes round at the realization that we’re in the kitchen. I pull away before he has a chance to deepen the kiss, “The others.” I breathe out urgently with wide eyes down at him.

He shakes his head quickly, “They’re out of the city for the day.” 

It could’ve been a bold face lie, but that’s all the reassurance I need to proceed on our poor decision. His tongue swipes across my bottom lip and I oblige faster than I’d like to admit. Our tongues find each other and begin to entwine themselves. He grasps my hips and pulls me to the edge of the counter to press himself against me. I can’t help but let out a tiny moan into his mouth at the feeling of his covered erection pressing into my clothed center. 

His hands trail up my sides to cup my cheeks before parting from me, “You feel what you do to me?” Soft but needy pants through parted lips fall on my own.

My heaving chest and my pathetic excuse for a nod was enough for him to rejoin our lips. I wrap my arms around his neck tugging him even closer. Our tongues fight for dominance but he’s winning, and his thumbs dig into my hip bones in an almost painful way, as if he’s scared I’ll vanish from his grasp. 

My fingers find their way into his hair that’s wrapped up in a loose bun and dig my nails into the roots, letting out a small sigh against his lips. He tastes like cigarettes and coffee in the best way.

I pull away for a moment and let my focus move from his lips back up to his eyes. My hands glide over the waistband of his jeans, dipping two fingers behind the zipper and pulling it towards my body. “I thought you had a lesson to teach me?”

A groan rumbles in the back of his throat as he processes my words. His fingers snap to my thighs, digging harshly into the flesh before spreading them apart as far as they’d allow. Warmth tinted my cheeks at the action, feeling exposed. I’m still clothed but now it’s just the thin fabric of my panties keeping the most intimate part of me covered. It’s not like it’s anything he hasn’t seen before, but it still feels vulnerable. 

“Tell me, what lesson do you think you need to learn?” He asks me while his fingertips urge my lower back to move further to the edge of the counter. 

“Hmm,” I feign thinking hard about the answer. “I think that you think it should be my mouth, but I don’t think that.”

“Oh, no?” He questions, “Is there anything you do that makes you think you deserve a lesson?”

“Nope.” I reply with cheery innocence. 

“That’s interesting, because you’re massively overdue for one.” He tugs my legs so close to him it almost pulls me off the counter. 

He leans down and presses a kiss just below my ear, then trails it down my neck. My heart beats so fast against my ribcage I fear it could burst. 

While his hands roam and grope anywhere they land, he’s buried in my neck sucking marks into it. “I’ve missed you.” He admits, mumbling against my skin and makes my heart rate skip a beat or two. 

I tilt my head back and scrunch my eyes closed. We shouldn’t be doing this in the first place, nonetheless, saying these sorts of things to each other, but it seems neither of us care enough to remember why. 

I tangle my fingers in his hair, giving it a gentle tug and nudging my head against his. “I’ve missed you too, Nicky.” 

He pauses the same way I did but this time he moves back up to rejoin our lips. 

There’s a couple words that linger in the back of my throat - words I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to tell him. Words that I’m not sure make sense for us or if they’re just the chemicals rushing through me. But I want to say them, and I’m scared that if I go to say anything at all they might tumble out. 

His hands find and tug at my shirt which I quickly pull away and discard it across the room. I take the opportunity to do the same with him. I catch the hem of his shirt, and he stills. I realize in the two times we’ve slept together, I’ve never seen him shirtless. That combined with the way he hesitated when I went to pull it off makes me think he might be uncomfortable. “May I?” 

He hesitates but nods and lets me be the one to pull it off him. He’s tattooed all over his chest just as he is on his arms, and it makes me want to go exploring all over his body. Our lips reunite and our tongues reconnect before I get a chance to compliment his appearance. I work quickly at undoing his jeans while he struggles to pull down my skirt.

Finally, bare to each other, he pulls me taut against him to make sure I can feel just how much he’s missed me. He nestles his thick shaft between my folds, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t missed that part of him too. I let a small whine slip into our kiss at the feeling of him throbbing against my clit. 

He disconnects from me only to press his forehead against mine, “I need to be inside you.” There’s a greater feeling behind his claim, more akin to ‘I need to be as close to you as possible’.

“I need you, please.” I reply, sounding more desperate than I would’ve liked. 

Now, not my brightest moment, letting him push his way inside me without more prep when I haven’t had him in so long. The stretch his girth brings is a delicious but brutal burn. He takes mercy on me by taking it slow and I feel every thick inch of him until he bottoms out, nuzzling the tip of his cock into my cervix.

“Fuck.” I breathe out, resting my head back on the cabinet. 

While it’s painful, it feels just like puzzle pieces reuniting, like he was made for me. He fills me completely, leaving no empty space.

He only stays stagnant for a short bit of time before he begins rutting into me. I remember how good he feels once adjusted to him. His head is tucked into the other side of my neck, littering it with more marks. He lets small grunts and groans tumble into my neck as he drills into me. With every thrust, his cock hits the bundle of nerves deep within my core and makes my skin burn. “God, you take me so fucking good.” He mutters beneath my ear and it makes me grip onto him tighter.

He detaches from my neck and unexpectedly places both hands on my cheeks, directing my gaze onto him. His hips slow but don’t halt as he forces me to focus on his stormy eyes. 

“Tell me it was a lie.” He demands, with a slight melancholic undertone.

I tilt my head a bit at the request, unsure of what he was referring to or why he’s bringing it up now. “What?”

“I know you lied to me, tell me it was a lie.” He pleads again, with more desperation this time. “Tell me there was no one else.” 

As I take a moment to process, he returns to his spot on my throat, pulling the skin of my neck between his teeth and one hand finding my swollen clit, rolling circles into it. My eyes widen at the feeling of both sensations at the same time, rapidly accelerating the proximity of my high. 

“Tell me you lied to me.” He repeats in a mumble beneath my ear. “Tell me there’s no one else. I need to hear it.”

My mind swirls between his words and the pleasure he’s giving me. It’s like some twisted tactic, that if he gets me so overwhelmed, I’d be forced to tell the truth - and it’s working. 

“I-“ I begin, going to ask how he ‘knows’ but I know I’m a terrible liar, especially to him. My peak rushes to where his fingertips meet my bundle of nerves and all I can think about is him. “I lied, Nick, I lied.” My fingernails dig into his back, and I squeeze my eyes shut, letting an ache wash through my chest.

I feel him smile against my skin and his speed picks up, ramming into my sweet spot over and over while working figure-8’s into my clit. 

“There’s only you.” I add, because I have nothing left to lose with the truth being out. “There’s only ever been you.”

He groans at the words and the way my walls involuntarily pulse around him. “Fuck.“ He grunts against my neck, his thrusts becoming erratic. “Fuck, I’m close. Cum with me?” 

I nod quickly as I’m on the precipice of my own high as well and ready to reach it with him. 

His thumb speeds up with the rolls of his hips pushing me over the edge. “Fuck I’m gonna, fuck,” Buzzing euphoria washes over me and blinds my vision as the coil in my belly snaps. It spreads burning heat across my body and only intensifies when I feel his cock twitch, spilling his hot release into the deepest part of me.

Our chests rise and fall quickly in time with each other and his breath brushes past my shoulder in short bursts. It feels so good to be so full of him.

Unexpectedly, he pulls back only to hold my face and pull me in for another kiss. This time, it’s sweet and soft and full of an emotion we haven’t spoken. Our tongues dance together but it’s slow and tender, the sort of kiss that bonds you and makes you feel safe. 

Once he detaches from me, his forehead presses into mine once more, meeting my eyes with his silver ones, this time having a faint blue hue. His thumbs brush along my cheekbones and his eyes dart across my face, “I don’t want to stop doing this, Vallie.” He whispers and it twists a knife in my chest.

I don’t want to stop either, I want to say. 

I reach up and wrap my arms around his neck pulling him closer. “Nick, we-”

“I know.” He says sadly, but with a slightly hopeful pitch. “The guys are coming around, nobody has to know but us five. I can wait, Val.” His voice pleads. “I can wait, I can wait until you’re ready, until we can. There’s something here, I know you feel it too, I can feel it. I just can’t do this anymore, it’s torture being around you.” His words accelerate as he speaks. “It takes everything in me not to touch you. I can’t be around you, let alone live with you and pretend that I don’t love you.” His eyes widen a bit at what he just blurted out. 

My own eyes round wide at him and my heart feels so full it could pop. “You… what?”

He closes his eyes, “I know that I shouldn’t.” His voice strained before meeting my gaze again. “But I do.” 

I blink up at him as he confirms the same words that have been swirling on the tip of my tongue. My hands slide down to hold his face. “I love you too, Nicholas.” I whisper in the space between us. 

“You do?” He asks, almost surprised though I can’t tell if it’s because I said it or because I mean it, maybe both.

“Yes. I love you, I love you,” My hands pull him closer as I repeat the words like a prayer; now that I’ve said them, I can’t stop. “I love you, I love you,” Before I can get to the fifth ‘I love you’ he wraps my legs around his hips and lifts me off the counter with him still inside me. He carries me into the living room and before I can question anything, we reach his intended destination. 

He lays me down on the couch - the same couch we got high on and ate Jolly Ranchers and ice cream. The couch where we first experienced each other’s bodies. It's not the couch where our love began but it is where it bloomed. 

Our lips rejoin immediately, getting swept up in our newly confessed love. I felt him hardening inside me again before we even left the kitchen. My arms wrap around his neck and my legs close in around his hips, trying to get him as close as possible.  

His hips begin to rut into me, gliding easily with his previous release still inside. It begins tender and slow but as with anything with Nick, it heats up quickly. He uses one hand to hook behind my knee pulling my hips up and closer to him and I let out a gasp at the new, deeper angle. His lips find my neck again, placing needy but tender open mouth kisses there. “I need you to feel how much I love you.”

My nails dig into his back at his words, “Fuck.” I moan out as his tip hits my g-spot directly in rapid succession with no reprieve. “Fuck, I love you.” 

“I love you too.” He says softly against my neck, pressing a gentle kiss there. “God, you feel fucking amazing.” It was like once we gave in and admitted to our feelings, it amplified the sex tenfold.

My head feels like it’s spinning when I nod in agreeance, desperately, “You fill me up so good, baby.” I let the name slip in the cloud of pleasure.

“Fuck, call me that again.” He nearly growls and lands one hard thrust flush against my hips.

It made my heart swell, thankful that he liked it, then had my walls pulsing around him in the realization that he really liked it.

“I love your fucking cock, baby.” I repeat the petname.

“Yeah?” He smirks, against my skin, “You like the way I stretch you out, angel?”

I flutter my eyes closed, feeling so complete in our surrender to one another, like this was how we were meant to be with each other from the beginning. It’s overwhelming how all of our suppressed words and feelings were all crashing into us at once. We broke open the floodgates and we were drowning in each other.

“God yes.” I dig my nails deeper into his flesh, feeling the daunting size of him trying to split me in two.

“Fuck, you take me so fucking good.” He mumbles in a low voice, and I feel myself clench as much as I can around his girth like I need to keep him there forever. He groans at the feeling, “Oh, you’re gonna make me cum if you keep that up.” His hand frantically finds my clit again, beginning tight circles into it.

My breath hitches in my throat and my eyes widen, that being the only thing I needed to send me into my second orgasm. He’s not far behind with hard, staggered thrusts chasing his own high.

Our climaxes arrive rapidly with the passionate expression of our love. For the second time that day, we hit our peaks together in unison, letting the confessions of our love fill the room. 

He practically falls and melts into me as our chests heave in time with each other. After a bit his eyes look down at me, still hazy with lust, now mixed with love. “It’s not enough.” He says hastily.

My brows furrow at his words, lifting myself up to my elbows as he slowly makes his way down my body. “What do you mean?”

He lands at my hips, spreading my legs apart. “I said that I need you to feel how much I love you. Fucking you with my cock isn’t enough.”

Before I can protest or inquire, his head is dipped between my thighs and his tongue is latched to my already-overstimulated clit.

“Oh, no, no, no.” My hand flies into his hair as I shake my head quickly. “No, Nick, I can’t – oh – not again,” I hiss at his blatant disregard and try to squirm away. “Fuck – It’s too much.”

He groans against me and his hand grip onto my hips stiffly, keeping me locked in place. “Stay fucking still.” He growls the demand without pulling his mouth away, every word sending a vibration through my body.

Every move of his tongue is intentional in a specific pattern, if I didn’t know better, I’d wonder if he was actually spelling out ‘I love you’. Regardless of that being factual or not, it doesn’t matter because it feels like he was writing loveletters with his tongue.

Every flick and swirl, sends a jolt through my entire being. My movements beneath his mouth can only be described as thrashing as my center is flooded with stimulation it wasn’t ready to receive again. It’s heavenly but almost painful at the same time. “Slower, please.” I beg but it’s futile; once Nick’s determined on something, its hard to convince him otherwise.

I tug at the roots of his hair and wriggle as much as I can with him keeping me in place. I’d felt my high creeping up, but I didn’t expect it to crash into me out of nowhere. It hits me all at once, my hips buck into him and my grip on his hair must be painful, but he doesn’t falter, not for a second. Silent screams ghost my throat as pleasure rips through me, violently. His tongue continues to roll at the perfect speed in all the right patterns, dragging out my high into the longest one I’ve ever had.

He finally tapers off of me and looks up at me through my parted legs. “I could do that all fucking day.”

I deflate into the cushions with a sigh, my ears still ringing from the overwhelming pleasure that just possessed my entire being. He kisses up my body, reaching up and planting a chaste kiss to the side of my mouth. “Was that too much?” He questions in a whisper.

I shake my head lazily, out of breath. “Perfect.” Is all I can get out.

The edge of his lips curl into a smirk. “I knew it would be.” And places a prideful kiss to my shoulder.

Once cleaned up, we laid on the couch together with me cuddled into his side and my head on his chest. The silence around us is both comforting and nerve wracking. The air is thick with fragility, like if one of us moves or speaks our bubble will burst. 

As we lie there, the quiet moments stretch out, and I can feel his heartbeat steady under my ear. It’s a rhythm that grounds me, making everything else fade away. His fingers trace gentle patterns on my arm, and I close my eyes, savoring the warmth of his touch. There’s a comforting sense of relief in surrendering completely to each other, finally. I’m not sure what this all means for us, but it feels good to finally admit it outloud. 

We stay like that for the rest of the night, enveloped in a bubble of shared intimacy. The outside world, with all its complications and uncertainties, feels distant and unimportant. Right now, we are just two people who have found comfort in each other’s arms. The complex reality and fragile hope for what might come next hangs in the air, but for now, they don’t need to be addressed. The uncertainty still lingers, but it’s softened by the honesty we’ve shared today. Tomorrow will bring its own set of challenges and questions, but in this moment, I allow myself to simply be with him, wholly. All that matters is the gentle rise and fall of his chest and the soft whisper of our breaths mingling in the quiet room. It’s enough to simply be together, a luxury we’ve denied ourselves of for so long—to find solace in the closeness and love that has always been there, begging to be acknowledged from the beginning.

Taglist; @ladyveronikawrites @persuasivus @kingdomof-omens @strawberryruffilo @the-hell-i-overcame @cncohshit @dominuslunae @thebadchic @to-be-written @myownthoughts12 @measuredingold [comment if you'd like to be tagged?]

A/N; The love for this story is something I never expected and I am truly grateful for it. Sorry that this took so long or if it's not up to par. I would love to hear your thoughts and predictions 👀 Thank you SO much for reading 💗

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Very specific HP headcanons (Golden Trio)

Harry-

•Before Hogwarts, Dudley broke his glasses a bunch, so he eventually learned to fix them to a manageable degree

•The Dursley’s were given a bunch of the Potter items, most were thrown away for being magical, but clothes and such were saved for Harry, and he was suspected to grow into them.

• Hopping off the last one, he owns all or majority or James’ converse, but he has no clue. He just thought they were old shoes that were thrifted.

•Became platonically affectionate with Ron and Hermione Post-War.

•Post-War, he checked in on Ron and Hermione everyday, no matter where he was.

•While doing his 7th year at Hogwarts, Post-War since he technically still needed to learn, became closer to a lot of the Slytherins, since he began to understand them more.

•Idolised Sirius when hearing Marauders stories.

•Short king

Hermione-

•Along with most Muggleborns, she gets constant questions about Muggles and she’s TIRED. No, Parkinson, muggles do NOT constantly go rabid when you mention their favourite artist. That’s just Harry.

•Post-war, she grew closer to Draco (after he abandoned his muggle-racist ideals) ,while they were back at Hogwarts in their mock-7th year, with studying “parties”.

•Teaches the elves more muggle foods for the muggleborns who miss home while at Hogwarts.

•She liked Ron for longer, but he fell harder.

•Idolizes Lupin to the full extent, especially after hearing stories told abt the Marauders.

•Germaphobe, even when it comes to school classes that deal heavily with dirty things

•The older she gets, the lighter her hair gets, so she constantly has it dyed to keep it the colour it was when she was in Hogwarts. (Based off the fact her hair has lightened SIGNIFICANTLY in merchandise nowadays).

•After 4th year, she refused to straighten out her hair, and began to wear it more natural because she liked her natural looks better than the ones she put on for special events.

•Picky eater, very scared to try anything Wizard-made, but will always eat whatever Mrs. Weasley gives her.

Ron-

•Everyone is afraid of him and his blue eyes.

•A bit chubbier in canon bc I refuse to believe with how much he stress eats that he doesn’t gain weight.

•Clothes have homemade patches made by the twins, sewn on by his mom.

•Though he rarely admits it, he’s always idolised Percy in a strange way.

•Mood swings, often gets asked if it’s that time of the month by Harry if or when he has a mood swing.

•Hopeless romantic

•Mama’s boy, but never really gets her attention one on one because he’s often outshined by his brothers (and Ginny).

•Got close to Blaise Post-War (ship or not), because they found their humour aligned.

•Idolised James Potter when hearing Marauders stories.

•Baggy clothes, actually looks really cool in them

•Likes to grow out mullets (his mom cuts them off).

•Easily goes back to sleep, mid-type sleeper (not heavy nor light).

•Feeds leftovers to any animal in sight (Pigwigeon, Scabbers, the twins, etc.)

•Tallest out of the three (makes fun of Harry for being the shortest).

[untitled5071]

yo idk if you're still taking requests but could you write a smth about Lisa taking the creature to see a ballet. i had this realization that the creature died before Tchaikovsky was even born and i think it's criminal that he never heard of the nutcracker, swan lake or even the 1812 Overture (where Tchaikovsky used actual cannons 💀). it could be any of his ballets btw ^_^

You had me at Tchaikovsky, I played violin for ten years and he's one of my favorite composers, though I've never seen one of his ballets, a mistake I'll have to rectify soon. Regardless, I hope you enjoy!

🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦

It was a gift for both of them, really.

As a general rule, they were very big on date nights; every day they were together was bliss, but they loved finding new things to experience together, new ways to celebrate the strange second chance at life they were given.

Luckily for them, the smallish city they had settled in after Brookview offered a plethora of activities, from checking out different restaurants, going ice skating in the winter and having picnics in the park in the summer to walking around different craft fairs and farmer’s markets to examine the wares of local artisans.

They thoroughly enjoyed every endeavor as long as they did it together, but by far one of their favorite things to do was attending concerts and dances, their shared love of music and dressing up for special occasions making those dates extra meaningful.

So when Lisa surprised her husband with two tickets to a traveling ballet troupe’s production of Swan Lake, neither could contain their excitement at the thought of the upcoming event.

Creature had discovered Tchaicovsky’s work after he had found a book of sheet music in a thrift store while they were shopping for new clothes, and he had spent the next several days learning as many of the pieces he could on the keyboard Lisa had bought him for their anniversary. The sound wasn’t nearly as good as it would have been on a proper grand piano, but it sufficed, his talent overcompensating for the poor quality of the instrument. Lisa loved to dance to it, and when the event was announced, she knew it would make the perfect date night for the two of them.

But first, they had to get ready.

They stood together in front of the cracked mirror in their rented apartment (Lisa insisted it stay that way, since it ‘reminded her of old times’), Lisa applying a pale shade of foundation to cover her more stubborn burn scars and her husband adjusting the lapels of his suit jacket, humming one of Tchaikovsky’s more nationalistic works-a piece called “Marche Slav”-to himself as he went. Lisa joined in, and though the rhythm was mostly wrong, her husband beamed and sent a praising smile her way.

She caught his eyes, and neither of them could resist leaning in for a kiss, one of those several they already had and would continue to share that day, just like every day since Lisa's resurrection.

They parted from their kiss, and Lisa giggled when she realized some of her foundation had rubbed off on her husband's chin, and she reached out to wipe it away with a thumb, cupping his cheek as she did so.

“I don't think that's really your shade, honey.”

Her husband smiled, holding his hand on Lisa's to keep her there for a moment before releasing her and letting her continue her cover-up job.

Normally they wouldn’t bother; they were both proud of the physical quirks that came with being the living dead and city folk had a tendency to overlook things. But since they were going to be out with the refined public, they both chose outfits that would cover their more….inhuman traits, with Lisa donning a long black velvet dress and opera gloves, and Creature opting for sleeves that covered the stitches on his right wrist and a hairstyle that covered his left ear.

Once they deemed themselves ready, they posed in front of the mirror, Lisa taking a picture with a Polaroid camera she had purchased second hand at a flea market. She waited for it to develop before hanging it up on the designated photo wall in their miniscule living room, covered floor to ceiling in polaroids from different date nights over the years, their smiling faces looking down on them from all angles, all reminiscent of other nights spent enjoying each other's company.

Like the others, this night promised to be a wonderful one.

Neither of them felt particularly hungry at that moment (a consequence of being undead and also their pre-show excitement) so they walked to the theater with Lisa hanging off of Creature's arm, the two giggling and speculating about what they were about to see all the while.

The lobby of the theater was crowded, and the couple clutched each other close as they shuffled their way through the mass of bodies. They skipped the massive drink line and the somehow longer one for the women's restroom, and they presented their tickets to the usher, who showed them to their seats.

They were at the front of the balcony, and Creature helped his wife into her seat like a proper gentleman before he took his own, and he leaned into her space as they read the same program, their heads resting together as they looked over the extensive list of performer and crew names.

Lisa looked up at her husband, a twinkle in her eyes.

“It looks like we're in for quite the treat tonight.”

Creature smiled back, nuzzling his nose against hers briefly.

“Any night we spend together is a treat, my love. This one just comes with a show.”

Lisa giggled, but she didn't have time to respond before the lights dimmed and the first round of applause started, which both of them joined. The curtain rose on the stage to reveal a yard outside of a castle where a grand party was taking place, numerous dancers moving to Tchaikovsky’s jovial score in perfect sync. Lisa ‘ooh’ed quietly under her breath, and Creature’s heart swelled as his wife scooted up in her chair slightly, wanting to be closer to the performance.

The festivities continued, the prince was given his weapon and as he ran into the woods after the flock of swans, Lisa rested her head on her husband's shoulder, lacing their arms together as they settled in to enjoy the rest of the performance.

As expected, the music was impeccable and the dancing was breathtaking, and by the time the titular waltz began and the enchanted swan maidens began their graceful steps, both undead lovers were fully entranced in what they were seeing, their full attention turned towards the stage, though Creature did keep sneaking glances at the hidden orchestra pit and wondering what it would take to be a part of one.

Before they knew it, the show ended, the dancers receiving well-earned and rapturous applause during their final bows. Lisa and Creature were on their feet with the rest of the audience, and when the crowd began to disperse, they sank back into the plush red armchairs of the theater while they waited for the waves of people to leave and make their own exit easier.

And, as they usually did to pass the time, they talked.

Creature immediately launched into a passionate tirade about the orchestration and skill of the people tasked with delivering it, throwing around musical terms Lisa didn't fully understand but nodded along enthusiastically to anyway, delighted to hear that her husband had adopted her penchant for passionate ramblings.

“--and the violins in the Allegro giusto were absolutely phenomenal, the dynamics were–what’s wrong, Dove? You're thinking so loud I can practically hear it.”

Lisa chuckled distractedly, falling silent for a moment and staring at the stage. He ducked his head down to hers and placed a finger under her chin to turn her gaze his way, but all worry about what she was pondering over dissipated as she blurted out,

“Would you still love me if I was turned into a swan?”

He couldn't help it; the bluntness of her farcical statement made him chuckle, and the adorable pinch of her eyebrows wasn't helping matters. He pulled her close, holding her to him and placing a kiss on the top of her head.

“Of course I would, darling, I would love you in any form. If you were turned into a swan I would move to the lakeside so you could swim happily, and I would read you poetry as you did. I'd help you chase away anyone you wanted to terrorize–because let's be honest, my love, you would be an absolute menace–I would find you the best things to eat that you could still digest and, if that still wasn't enough, I would find a way to get myself turned into a swan too so we could be together that way, since I never wish to be apart from you, regardless of the measures I would have to take to do so.”

Lisa watched him deliver his impassioned answer with wide and lovestruck eyes, and the last words were barely out of his mouth before her lips were on his, and she was kissing him with an endless gratitude and adoration.

And of course, he reciprocated in kind.

By the time they parted the crowd has mostly cleared out, giving them an unobstructed path towards the exit. Creature got up first, stretching a bit before offering his arm to Lisa with a wink and a fond smile.

“Shall we go, my dearest? I do believe there is a warm bed waiting for us at home, as well as a keyboard that is dying to be played.”

Lisa blushed and took his offered limb, slipping her arm in the crook of his and leaning her head on his shoulder.

“Lead the way, honey.”

They left together, still linked by their arms and chatting quietly amongst themselves as they continued to absorb the wonderful experience they had just had.

As they passed under the lights of the theater marquee and turned in the direction of home, Creature leaned down and kissed Lisa's cheek, savoring the blush that blossomed across his wife’s face.

“What was that for?”

He smiled, his eyes soft and tender.

“I just wanted to thank you for this night, my beloved Lisa. I'll never forget it, as with all of the time we spend together.”

She hummed affectionately and squeezed his arm tighter as they strode down the city street in tandem.

“No, thank you, darling. I can't wait to see what we do for the next one.”

[talenlee]

Cox: Wander

This is an explanatory writeup of one of my Original Characters (OCs). Nothing here is necessarily related to a meaningful fiction you should recognise and is shared because I think my OCs are cool and it’s cool to talk about OCs you make.

Lean, whiplike and tattered, the hero you see has a ‘costume’ that looks like he made it in a thrift store. A mask made from an early pandemic rig, a scarf to hold it in place, his clothes are second hand, his shoes are battered. Hair’s immaculate though.

The boy is maybe in his early twenties but speaks of times almost a century ago. He has an obvious mystical air about him any mage can notice but no ability to describe even fundamentals of magic.

But don’t worry. He’ll show up when he’s needed.

Wander is a martial artist, first and foremost. You can observe his form, his patterns of behaviour, and the way his kicks and punches demonstrate a practiced, repeated pattern. It’s not a recognisable one but it’s also not alien to most. He does seem to be the kind of martial artist who has no plan for getting grappled, but that seems reasonable when you are as quick as he is — Wander’s hands and feet are so quick that sometimes he seems to teleport on the battlefield. When he wants to be unseen he disappears from sight, and he doesn’t think overmuch about conversations where people think the point is ‘ranking fighting styles.’

What truly sets Wander apart, though, beyond his basic skillset as an athletic, physically fit, shockingly quick-handed melee combatant, is his ability to go anywhere. It is shocking. It’s an escalating power, too; the first time you might bump into him in an out of the way place, it might be seeing the violence hobo showing up at a University event that he doesn’t attend, or at a fancy soiree. Then it starts getting weirder, where he shows up in a secured facility, or a military base. By the time he’s appearing walking around inside satellites and lunar bases, it gets obvious this is something weird and he’s not sure how he does it.

“You’re in space?” “Seems it.” “How are you breathing?” “Oh I did all my breathing earlier.”

Some people who study magic have made it clear that whatever Wander is doing it somehow relates to chronomancy, the category of magic that relates to time, but he taps and uses it not with memorisation of words, but positions of energy in his body (as indicated by poses in his martial arts). That is why he is so fast in combat and why he can travel to seemingly impossible locations, though it does introduce the question, where did he learn time martial arts from?

Wander, when asked about it, can attest to some kind of backstory where he had a mentor, who trained him on the streets of Paragon for a long time. It did involve a little bit of thievery and some chicanery around who does or doesn’t own fast food, but the thrust of what he remembers is about living unhoused while learning how to do ‘kung fu shit,’ as he phrases it.

Mechanics

Um, so here’s the odd thing. I don’t think I have a build for Wander any more. I had the costume files laying around for his base costume, which I could then tighten up a little, but the normal detritus I use to rebuild an old character is seemingly lost to me. Which makes sense — I made this character back when City of Villains launched in February 2006, and he was around in 2012 when the game shut down, and still hadn’t hit level 50 at that point.

If I was going to try and do his concept again, I think he’d stay a melee character. If he had friends who wanted him to head up a group, I’d go for Super Reflexes/Martial Arts Tanker, if he was duoing with a defender he’d be a Street Justice/Super Reflexes Brute, but really what I’d want is to make him with a group where he could afford to be the damage of a group, where he’d be a Street Justice/Super Reflexes Stalker to represent being able to pop out of nowhere in a strange way, with the vibes of a powerful martial artist.

History

Wander is probably my first Hero character. I have hazy memories of making a Dark/Dark Brute and maybe getting to level 6 and then abandoning the server that character was on forever, heading to hang out with my friends on Freedom, the most populous server, before I abandoned them for Virtue, the most well populated roleplaying server.

I don’t remember much of his early history, well. It was before I was keeping regular diaries. Before I had a blog. I may have notebooks from around the time with drawings and references to the character in there, but hell if I can remember them and don’t even want to look at them for fear of confronting my own agonising mediocrity. All I have is what I can remember of my mind from when I was maybe 24 years old.

I remember being sour about not knowing the game well.

I remember being bitter.

I remember being an awful player to play alongside.

There are people I can reach out to right now and say ‘hey, remember this?’ and apologise to. I don’t know if I would, because I don’t know if they want to remember me being a shit when I was in my twenties now I’m in my forties. That feels almost like a joke of what people do when they grow older.

But more than all of this, I remember being deeply offended that there was this game and I wasn’t at the end of it and I wasn’t good at it and other people were more established at it. There was a part of me that imagined being good at games as important to my identity, and I didn’t like feeling like I wasn’t good at this very easy game designed for people to have fun in. Mostly, I think I was overwhelmed and sensitive and made that other people’s problems, which is okay if you’re six and kinda rotten as an adult.

Wander was also part of how I handled being overwhelmed, and it was a trick you might see done in a different, less hostile way: Wander was, essentially, the same thing as an Amnesiac Hero, someone who has no memory of how they got there and where they were going. This is a great trick for a new player in a new setting who doesn’t know what’s going on but wants to be there as part of the experience for their friends, and therefore, they don’t ever have to answer questions about ‘where are you from?’ or ‘what do you think of this new experience presented to you?’

Wander went the other direction.

Wander was homeless. I didn’t need to be able to tell you anything about the city he lived in, because he didn’t live anywhere in particular, didn’t need to know street names or districts or neighbourhoods or even important details about them. He could act bored and dismissive of almost all the problems around him, because he had a bigger problem. He could address immediate problems like gangs and head with other heroes to deal with things without really belonging to the world. This was an obvious problem because any superhero character with some degree of infrastructure, like a superhero base or whatever, would immediately offer him lodging and then his homelessness was ‘solved’ or he was a jerk to another player.

From there, I just kinda rolled with making his powers, his martial arts, mysterious. He had a magic origin, a thing I may have had an idea for originally, but whatever it was I forgot it eventually. He was even part of a love triangle from the period in my life when I didn’t realise it’s actually 100% okay for characters to be bisexual and polyamrous since that just makes everything infinitely more convenient and also scares off weirdoes.

(I didn’t handle that well either, I don’t think)

But… he stayed around. I never deleted him. He languished on Freedom, along with a host of other characters that sat around there for nothing and no purpose. And when the server shut down, I still saved his costumes, and I still hung onto the memories of him. When I filled in the big spreadsheet, I wound up including him and writing up as much as possible as I could.

I like Wander. I like the concept I have now, of time-based martial artistry, which is at war with your own ability to perceive the passage of time. I like what he became, and I like what he can do. I like the way that he fits into the space of ‘superpowered martial artist’ without just copying tropes and language I don’t quite understand. There’s definitely an element of Anime Nonse to him, but he’s not just ‘a guy who can do martial arts good,’ and that unlocks something impossible.

Still.

Wild.

This character is approaching twenty years old.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[kadavernagh]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: The Party Thrifter PARTIES: Regan and Leila SUMMARY: Adrift, Regan asks to shadow Leila at work to see if it might be her future. Leila eagerly agrees. An old enemy slithers out of the woodwork.

The Party Thrifter was slow today, and Leila was probably tired of Regan being at her heels, but Regan was diligently noting it all, ready to become an expert. Was operating a thrift store Regan’s future? Probably not. But she liked Leila well enough, and it gave her a place to be while she figured out her true calling. And who could say it wouldn’t be this? Thrifting was considered “cool,” wasn’t it? Things eventually became so old that they cycled back to chic eventually. (Did Jade’s ring net compliments?) Also, did Regan actually care about being “cool”? How was she supposed to know if she cared? Did thinking about it at all mean she cared? 

She forced her mind to turn over like a rock, pushing those thoughts underneath. ”Do you ever find incoming clothes with dead animals in them?” Regan asked idly, hanging up one of the new shirts that someone had dropped off earlier. She could tell there was nothing dead in there, but if it happened occasionally that would make this more exciting. Hold on. She was not supposed to be interested in that. Human. Right. Yes. Regan cleared her throat and amended, “Because, um, that would be… deligh– disturbing. Disturbing.” Smooth like a bone’s facet.

Creeeeeeaaak. From above, the rafters. Regan froze only for a split second, and looked to Leila for reassurance (no, expertise, she swapped in). Her lungs – increasingly sensitive to the slightest provocation – swelled, threatening to spill out. “This is an old building, yes? Much like the clothes. Do you ever worry about how sturdy it is?” Or isn’t.

—

She didn’t really know why Regan had wanted to shadow her. It wasn’t like owning a part-thrift-part-costume-part-front-for-being-human-store had a lot to offer in the way of bones and poor unfortunate creatures that had met their ends- naturally or otherwise. But perhaps Regan had a secret hobby of sewing or historical clothing… Did medical examiners sew? Leila didn’t have the foggiest. All she knew was that Regan- despite her potentially poor taste in romantic partners- was a friend to both Metzli and herself. And that meant her door was open. 

It would just be a nice little bonus if this resulted in Jade stopping to attempt second-death murder her loved ones.

“Not necessarily in the clothing, no… but I did find a little mouse at the bottom of one box. Poor thing had been there a while. But I think he lived a good mouse life. Very chubby, filled with all sorts of seeds and cheese and stuff…” The mouse in question had come in from an estate sale underneath a very musty pile of fur coats. It now had a final resting place in the back alley behind the shop. Though, with her luck, if Leila told the banshee that, the mouse’s bones would be exhumed. 

The creak above the mare’s head was a non-event. Old buildings made noise. This was a fact of life. But The Party Thrifter had been through a truly bizarre amount of strange happenings and remained standing. Most recently a giant flower had grown straight up through the floorboards and out the roof. The building still stood. Thankfully. Leila didn’t have the funds for that sort of repair project. “It’s old, but when I bought it, they told me it was kept up to code. Don’t worry too much. It’s probably either the humidity or the building settling.”

__

Leila seemed a little bit more subdued than usual, didn’t she? Not by a huge margin, but enough that Regan noticed it. She wasn’t alone. Several people weren’t sure how to interact with her after she returned from her “forever move” to Ireland. Leila had joined that swath now. It wasn’t like most humans knew what to do with her before, either. And maybe it didn’t matter. Regan knew she was in the presence of someone good, even if being near Leila felt like a wire brush against her skin. How she spoke of the dead mouse was evidence of that.

She hung up a Hawaiian shirt with a shrimp pattern. Tacky. She was keeping an eye out for something Jade might like. “I was not worried.” There went her stomach, folding in half. Worry had latched on like a hitchhiking tick since Ireland. The following creeeeeeak was louder, but she didn’t jump (it was a conscious hop). Or the floor was sloped. Like the stage in– no. Distraction. That was what she needed. It couldn’t be Jade’s lips right now, and she wasn’t going to kiss Leila (not that… no, not that either). “What did you do with the mouse? And, um, do you ever find clothes you wish to keep for yourself? You’re always well-dressed.” Creeeeeeak. Had Regan been anywhere else, with anyone else, she might not have been suspicious. You wear shirts like that, Leila had lobbed at her last time they saw their foe, an accusation. She really wished she was not wearing a turtleneck right now.

—

“The mouse got buried. It was before I met Metzli and you and thought that bones could be used as art. And I was feeling sentimental” She spoke as she worked, hanging newly-steamed-and-cleaned garment after garment onto a rack simply labeled ‘50s’. Technically, the dress she’d just finished was vintage. The fabric was old, as was the pattern she had used, but the production of the clothing had been done in modern times (if, perhaps, by antique hands). Leila wasn’t about to explain all that to customers, though. Better to simply hang it up. If people asked questions (which they rarely did) she could stitch together an answer easily enough. 

“As for the clothing… Some of the very old things were mine, once.” The oldest, however, had not started out as hers. They belonged to some dreamer or another, and she’d simply spirited off with it. Back when she couldn’t find the money, back when staying amongst humans felt dangerous for both herself and for their sake. “I take what I need, if I need it. Or I’ll just make it. It’s easier that way, sometimes.” A pair of light green pedal pushers (true vintage, found somewhere in Kansas City when they were in fashion) were hung up beside the dress. The mare paused a moment, glancing over at Regan. “If you find anything you like, you’re welcome to it, you know.” 

Creaaaaaaaaak. The shop seemed to punctuate the sentiment. As if it agreed. Friends were always welcome to take what they liked- it would always would be so, so long as Leila owned the little shop in Deerspring. Which… it couldn’t be forever. Eventually, someone would expect her face to change, for lines to form, for hair to gray, for age to set in and claim her. Only, it never would. Not for her. Not ever for her. She was already something far older than she should be- just like the clothing she mended and restored, Leila Beaulieu was an object that managed to persist outside of her time. And this beautiful golden moment in time, Wicked’s Rest and the community that had presented itself to her, couldn’t last- could it? Unless a lot of people got good with a lot of un-natural things very quickly, she would have to disappear one day. At least from public view. At least for a little while… But for now, she would enjoy her store. Her little creation. Creaking boards and flederprey in the attic and all. 

__

Burying the mouse was kind. Most people wouldn’t bother. That did not make Leila something exceptional for doing the right thing, but Regan could acknowledge that it was difficult to meet a bar when the rest of humanity did little but trample on it, unable to discern it from the ground. “If that mouse has family alive, and mice are capable of what we call mourning, I believe they would appreciate that.” And what of all the mice Regan had brought to Ireland for her grandmother? Cliodhna had taken one look at them and said they were a paltry offering. Then Regan had not seen them again. Presumably Cliodhna saw some purpose for them but hadn’t wanted Regan to feel good about it. Her face tightened, tense, but she was eager to follow Leila back to the clothes. The reason Regan was there.

“Oh? I forget how old you are, at times.” Something she didn’t want to think about, either. Why was every subject fraught? Anxiety rippled through her lungs. “You couldn’t have had that much, could you? To still have inventory? You do strike me as someone who would have taken good care of your things.” So many years. So much time. “You make some of these?” Regan paused, considering a gaudy pink dress in hands. The silk fabric nearly slipped through her fingers before she could hang it up. “If that's the case, do you still sell it as being from a certain decade? Or does it have more to do with the origin of the materials?” All organic matter – cadavers, leaf litter, even festering mushrooms themselves – were eventually recycled into something else. That did not make new life millions of years old. Or was fabric viewed differently than cells and molecules in that regard? She couldn’t tell if this was dishonest, stretching the truth, or a simple, universal truth of the thrift business. “It's more honest than some of the historical buildings here, where practically every plank of wood has been replaced over time. I do not believe something can be called the same if every piece of them– it has been shattered and then replaced.” Yet here she was, because some small part of her must have still believed that constitution was not the same as identity, that she could still be human, and that her proverbial ship of Theseus could come close enough to replicating the original or even become something better.

Maybe the wooden beams in this place really could have done with replacing, though. Regan might have liked the loud creaking had it not been a potential portent. 

Leila was willing to let her keep some of these things? She glanced between the different racks, a haze of colors striking her eyes, and confusion stirred inside her like sand whipped up by the tide. “I don’t, um– that's generous of you. Th– I don’t know what–” Regan cleared her throat. She would not say something utterly flabbergasting to Leila, would not admit that she wasn’t even sure how to know what she did and didn’t like at this point. “How do you know what you like? I thought I appreciated the practical nature of turtlenecks, but what if this whole time, I've simply been harboring self-consciousness about my neck?” She fidgeted with the collar on her sweater. “Maybe I should be trading it for one of these.” She gestured to that pink dress she previously thought of as gaudy. 

There was one last, loud creak as something swooped down from the rafters, and tattered black fabric concealed her vision. 

—

A chuckle filled the air like a soft summer breeze coming through an open window. Regan wasn’t wrong. She was old. Leila had to admit that even she forgot how old she had gotten from time to time. How many lifetimes had she lived through now? So many she’d lost count… “No, I didn’t have that much. Didn’t have anything, to start with… but every so often, very wealthy ladies who refused to wear the same thing twice happened to have nightmares and… well… I took the liberty of relieving them of the gown. Hid it away for myself to wear if I wanted to play pretend-to-still-be-human.” Those were lonely days. Scary days. And yet some of the clothing she’d stolen over those earliest of her hundreds of years were her favorites. The elegance of it all… 

The mare cast a glance at the frilly pink monstrosity in Regan’s hands. “Some. Not all. Not that.” It was a bit garish to say the least. Though, as a product of its time- the ‘80s judging by that shade of damn-near-fluorescent pink- it was probably a masterpiece. “And no. If I make it, I sell it as reproduction. If it’s fabric from the time period, I’ll say that, or if it’s purely reproduction through and through, just say that. The patterns defy time. Fabric, on the other hand, doesn’t always last…” 

Her gaze softened as she put down a neatly folded t-shirt atop the counter. “Listen to your heart. That’s what I’ve always done with cl-” 

A loud creaaaaaaaaaaak interrupted her, and down from the rafters came something tattered, black, and altogether too familiar. It was the turtleneck. Again. Had it been living in her attic? Had it crept in, sensing both of its nemeses in the same spot at the same time? Do something Leila… In a flash, the mare was rounding the counter and trying to get a fistful of now-raggedy fabric to wrench away from Regan’s head. 

__

“Stop talking about my sinus rhythm, that’s priv–” Oh. Regan couldn’t see past the fabric, but she knew. She could feel it in her bones, all of them, even her (fiercely loyal, non-betraying) pubis. This was Leila’s turtleneck. The one that had attacked them on multiple occasions. What was it about this woman? This time it didn’t have a screaming ring to tussle with – what happened to it? She’d think about that later. “Get off me!” Regan shouted, muffled. Her voice boomed despite it, and her lungs seemed to be pulsing away from her control. “How dare you try to cover my mouth! Off! Get your turtleneck!” Cliodhna would have been horrified at such an undignified display; she probably would have just blasted the thing down to its fibers. But Regan flailed (didn’t she always?), feeling Leila’s efforts to yank the sweater off in various directions. The thing was on tight, latched to her face like a baby monkey. Regan couldn’t see and ran straight into the rack they had just been hanging garments on, sending it clattering over.

Regan felt the collision. She fumbled back in the opposite direction assuming there’d be more room to deal with this screadail sweater, but her back hit another rack. It sent a painful shockwave up her spine, pinching at healing muscles. She couldn’t clamp down on her lungs any longer; her head spun from the lack of oxygen. Regan yelped. Something broke. She still couldn’t see. Finally, she was able to claw the sweater aside and see clearly with one of her eyes and looked pleadingly at Leila. “Get this thing. Off my face! How dare it--” It was going more for her neck now, sleeves winding around her jugular, an attempt to asphyxiate. Regan screeched – it poured out of her, louder and faster than intended – and pulled at the sweater some more. Something else broke, and this time, she traced the sound to the storefront windows, where a dangerous crack grew from top to bottom.

Leila had pestered the sweater enough that it twisted around, still clinging to Regan’s neck but bunched up in annoyance. One of the sleeves loosened on her throat and retreated into the tattered body of the sweater.

A knife gleamed from the end of the turtleneck’s sleeve, and it lunged for Leila.

—

There were a lot of things about the situation that Leila had not expected. The first, and most obvious, was the sweater descending from the rafters like a wild animal. But that was insignificant in comparison to the second thing. Regan screamed. Given the situation, that should not have been surprising in the least. But that little yelp sent a shiver down her spine. 

And then, a lightbulb popped. 

A string of curses fell from her lips as little shards fell about them, but the mare would not move from her spot trying to wrench the fabric away from the other woman’s face. How had the shirt gotten back into the store? Whatever strange vendetta it had against herself and Regan, surely it couldn’t last this long. Another loud screech and she heard the glass of the storefront windows crack. One more scream like that and she was sure the window would be nothing more than dust. Unfortunately for The Party Thrifter, Leila’s priorities leaned towards making sure Regan survived the ordeal of the turtleneck. 

The third unexpected situation came in the form of a decently sized knife wrapped in the cuff of the sweater’s sleeve, sharp point gleaming in her direction. A knife-wielding sweater lunging in her direction with a surprising amount of force. A knife-wielding sweater lunging with a surprising amount of force and digging that pointed blade into her skin as it wrapped itself around her head and neck. Leila let out an indignant scream as she tried to wrench the garment off of herself. It, and by extension the knife, were far too close to her neck for comfort. 

For the first time in the presence of the ridiculous, possessed, angry sweater, the mare was just a little bit… scared. 

__

The turtleneck had a knife. At some point, Regan had decided that questioning reality could usually wait until after she was no longer in imminent danger, or some other bizarre situation (Terramoist came to mind). Those mental breakdowns were put on pause and saved for later like an animal’s teeth you might pocket halfway through a stroll, except Jade usually believed whatever she said, so none of it felt all that insane these days. She had been speaking fairly openly about the worms, hadn’t she?

So this threat was real. She could decide otherwise tonight. But right now, it was real. Just as real as the threat of her lungs, sucking in churning air and readying it when she didn’t want them to. Regan wasn’t quick enough to intercept as the knife slashed across Leila’s shoulder – and really, what could she do? A sparkling substance seeped from Leila’s skin where blood should have dribbled, and Regan rushed in closer, ignoring the sweater that had been bucked to the floor. “That wasn’t a very good sc– hold on, what? Your shoulder? Are you bleeding? What is that? It doesn’t look like blood, so what–” Another light popped like an aneurysm. Now it was even harder to see and assess Leila’s injury, though that was probably best left for later too, when there wasn’t a sweater trying to stab them (with a knife, Regan reminded herself, tacked on to a second reminder that she couldn’t doubt it right now). She opened her mouth and didn’t even say anything before a third bulb exploded, this one right above them. She could feel the bite of glass against the skin of her arms. Light flashed across the glass even in the darkness of the store.

And so did the knife. Regan jumped as the sleeve of the turtleneck extended and took a swipe at her ankles, thankfully missing, though it arced far enough to slice Leila, too. Her lungs pulsed at the quick movement, building up to worse than those little yaps from before; she was being attacked on two fronts now: the turtleneck on the ground and the noise trying to shoot up her throat. Did Leila realize it, that she should probably move away? That even if not to avoid that turtleneck, Regan was afraid to even open her mouth? She kicked at the garment and it latched around her shoe like a python, creeping up her leg and dropping the clattering knife. It was fast around her torso, her arm, and then it… froze. The breath that pushed out of Regan shattered what remained of the store’s windows. There was a heavy, too-long second, where no one moved. 

Maybe it wouldn’t… 

No. The sleeves lashed out like a viper at Regan’s hand, coiling around her ring finger, seemingly intent on pulling her favorite lowercase jade off of her. She was knocked back into another clothes rack and rebounded to a third one. Finally, she couldn’t keep her mouth clamped shut; the sound leaked from between her ribs and threatened to blow her up from the inside. “Don’t touch that,” Regan screamed, her lungs doing what she had tried to avoid. “Let go! That’s mine! You have already taken one ring from me. Go find your own. Get off.” This thing obviously hated rings, after its battle with the one that screamed. But Regan didn’t care about its motive. She wouldn’t let anyone take this ring off her finger, especially after she herself had done it back at the lake in Ireland. She didn’t say anything this time, only screamed at the turtleneck, because she couldn’t hold it back, blasting it with enough force that its dangling threads peeled back creating new tatters. But there was no screaming only at something, was there? Around them, things broke and burst; the store wobbled on its old frame; clothes and papers swept across the store as if they had been caught in a storm.

—

Leila had been cut before. An injury was nothing new. In life, she’d known her share of scrapes and cuts. But those had been foolishly, clumsily earned. Not inflicted. Not given with the intent of damage. Those sorts of wounds only came into her world after her heart had stilled in her chest, after the blood had stilled and turned into that strange shimmering stardust that was now flowing from the wound on her shoulder. The blade had dug through the light fabric of her blouse and torn through the skin beneath with a surprising amount of weight. And for the first time, the nightmare couldn’t think. Couldn’t hear her own thoughts. They were swallowed up in the screaming of her own mind. Too close. It was too close to her neck, too close to her throat. She’d never really thought about it- how did one kill a mare? 

No one had to tell her anymore. The fear that swallowed her whole told her all she needed to know.

She wrenched the turtleneck away, hurling it to the ground. The ringing in her ears muffled the sound of Regan’s voice, distorting the words that came in a rush. She tried to read her lips- something about the shimmering blood that was falling with every little movement. Another high pitched wail pierced the room, shattering the lightbulb in the lamp that swung overhead- as if it, too, were fighting to survive the noise. The mare instinctively raised an arm to shield her face from the blast. Shards of glass bit into her forearm as they fell. More blood-curdling shrieking pierced the room, making glass fall like raindrops, sending a wave of sharp pain through her skull, as if it might destroy her too. The world felt as if it had tilted upside down and Leila could not right herself. She could not think, could not hear. Only feel. 

Pain blossomed anew in her calf as she tried to make one last grab at the possessed shirt, and that was enough to send Leila toppling over onto the floor. The glass crunched beneath her like snow that had long since turned to ice. For a moment, the world inside the Party Thrifter stilled, as if someone had pressed a button and paused everything. She took in the sight of her little store. Wracks of garments were knocked over, display cases had spiderweb cracks spreading across the panes of glass, and at the center of the destruction sat herself, Regan, and the sweater that had come to loathe the pair of them. She watched Regan stare down at the shirt for what felt like a second and an eternity…

And then the world exploded around them.

Whatever glass there was left in a whole piece in the shop shattered into a million pieces. Shelves fell, sending whatever had once sat safely upon them careening to the floor. It was as if a category five hurricane had been thrust into the little store in Deerspring, hellbent on bringing it all down. The old building moaned as it tried to hold itself together, and long settled dust fell from the eaves. The flederprey that had found their home in the attic joined the commotion- but only to do the smart thing, to flee the chaos before they fell victim to the destruction as well. 

It was all Leila could do to pull herself behind the old wooden counter and pray to a god that did not listen to her that the building would not fall in upon them all. 

__

Glass and wood splinters and crumpled garments spun around the room, sucking racks and miscellanea into its maelstrom. Glitter swirled with the rubble, like a craft bin had been blown open. Somewhere in there was the turtleneck, curled into a tight ball, knife clattered away from it and on its own separate trajectory. Regan couldn’t stop it. It was like a death scream, but there was no vision and no purpose to it. The screech exploded out for what felt like minutes, even though it had probably been nothing more than several agonizing seconds. Her body used to be ready for this. Even when it was a death scream, she could lock it inside of her. But her body had been given to other things since she’d come back, and she couldn’t even bring herself to empty her lungs and scream more than once or twice. So now that they had started, they were going to empty.

The force of Regan’s own scream knocked her backwards, and as the last ragged pants heaved from her throat, she was finally able to suck in a breath for herself that wasn’t immediately given as tinder for more screaming. As heavy as her body felt, as much as the weight of her skull made her neck bend, the reality of what had just happened was so much harder to hold. It crushed her small frame. She had come here, she had harmed Leila, and she had destroyed her store. Leila, who had always shown her kindness, even when she refused to give it to herself. Because Leila was like that; it flowed as naturally from her as destruction spilled from Regan’s lungs. This wasn’t so different from the comic book store, was it? A business born of love, formed by blood, sweat, and tears and not in need of any more. This was Leila’s livelihood; it was what she loved. And Regan had razed it to the ground. 

Was it her lack of training, her control over every muscle in her chest and throat forgotten? Or was it that she had given herself to emotion? Jade, the ring, and her care for Leila all tainted a situation that would have otherwise been so simple for her to navigate, once upon a time. Even the last few times they encountered the turtleneck had gone better than this (though she had already been on a steep decline). Regan’s chest pounded as she sat on the floor, legs splayed in front of her, palms punctured with glass. Her whole body vibrated, like her lungs weren’t done with her. If anything, they were delivering a reminder: if she wasn’t going to work to control them, they would control her. The breath that rushed out from between her teeth knocked over the only rack that had been left standing. And then, finally, her lungs stilled, and the thumping in her abdomen belonged only to her heart. She wished that had stilled, too. 

Leila was more intact than anything else in what used to be The Party Thrifter. She even sparkled, though Regan wasn’t sure if it was the dizziness behind her own eyes making it look that way, or there really was glitter pouring out of Leila. That Leila was okay was something Jade might have focused on – look, no one died! – but Regan was having a difficult time wrapping around that truth, when it just as easily could have not been one. Finally, Regan could swallow, though there was nothing to send down her throat. Others will suffer for what you have done, her grandmother said. Was it any surprise that Cliodhna, a woman who had proven to almost always be right, even if not morally, was correct once again? They will suffer for as long as you live, my shame, my stupid leanbh. 

Her eyes glanced down to her hand, smeared with blood. Her ring was splattered in it. The turtleneck was nowhere to be seen, not that anyone could have found anything in this mess. “I never should have come here,” Regan said, unsure as to which point in her timeline that regret belonged, and even leaden with shame her voice was still louder than expected. She hissed at her own lungs. Could Leila even hear her? Regan knew this was beyond apologizing for even if Leila could hear it, but the word tunneled out anyway. Or tried to. “I never should have– if I listened to– I’m sorry. I’m so–” With a deep breath – one that smothered her chest until it listened to her again – Regan rose up, shaky on her legs. “I’m sorry.” She looked at Leila with eyes that pleaded to help, but with no expectation that she could.

—

She wasn’t sure when the silence started and the piercing screams ceased. One seemed to bleed into the other, and a painful ringing reverberated over and over inside her skull. Leila could not hear the tinkling of remnant glass shards falling like summer rain on the old wooden floor, nor the groaning of old lumber that made the frame of her precious store. She felt, though. Felt the bite of wounds from blade and shard, felt the shaky, unnecessary breaths as blood like stardust continued to flow down from the gash that sat too close to her neck… Felt the force shaking the building stop. The mare sat there curled up like some wounded animal, and for the first time in a while, she could taste her own fear on her lips.

There had not been a home through the decades. The world Leila knew was the shadows of caves and alleyways, where she could keep away until dissolving into some other dream. Wicked’s Rest had changed that. The store had been dusty and vacant when she’d bought it. The agent who had sold it was glad to get it off their hands- who wanted old, abandoned things anyway. Except, perhaps, the old and lonely, looking for a space to be whole once again. It took all her remaining strength to pull herself out from behind that counter, wincing at the wave of pain that came with movement, and drank in the sight of the place. 

Beyond repair. So much was beyond repair. Chapters of her life were torn apart, strewn in pieces on splintered floorboards. Summer light came flooding in from empty spaces where windows once were and illuminated the destruction, refracting light off of shards of glass, sequins, and jewels. The world was silent all around- perhaps sound was stolen from the rest of town, too. At the heart of the store sat Regan. Hand smeared red with the blood of a living thing. Their eyes met. Leila could not hear the words she was saying. But a look told her they were full of remorse. Pain. 

“It’s not your fault… It’s alright…” 

She wasn’t even sure if she’d said the words. The act of speaking and not hearing her own voice was unfamiliar. And even if Regan could hear her, would she believe it? Leila didn’t ponder that question long before the world slowly went fuzzy. Tired. Strange to have immortal, unsleeping life and be so suddenly tired.  

The mare silenced the rest of her little world and closed her eyes, hoping that when she opened them once more it would be a dream… knowing that it wouldn’t be.

[janethepegasus]

(The rewrite of the event Toys Galore)

Jane brings home a toy box from a thrift store to see what's inside, but upon opening it, she and the brothers are magically whisked away into a world made out of toys, even they turned into toys too! But they find themselves in the middle of a crisis as the toys panic and wonder where their "beloved friend" is, even accusing them of taking this friend! How will they solve this AND get out?

So basically, instead of them getting onesies, they actually turn into toys! (which are based off of what kind of animal their onesie was :P)

Lucifer turns into a brushable pony figure, resembling a G4 My Little Pony toy. He’s shocked and embarrassed that he turned into a “My Devil Pony” of all things

Mammon turns into a dinosaur toy that can shoot harmless magical fireworks, he’s bummed that he doesn’t shoot fire

Leviathan turns into a small shark bath toy, being able to shoot out water when he’s IN the water. Meaning he has not much use on land other than crawl around on his tiny plastic fins

Satan, unsurprisingly, turns into a cat plushie. This plushie closely resembles a Beanie Baby, due to him feeling the weight of the plastic pellets inside of him

Asmodeus turns into a bunny doll, the kind you dress up with. He was happy that it was still fashion oriented, but he was a bit upset he didn't turn into one of those play dolls (like Barbie or Monster High)

Beelzebub turns into a teddy bear, resembling a Care Bear down to the mark on the stomach. He calls it a Cuddle Bear, a kind of teddy bear that has special scents that help children sleep. His scent is honey, which makes him craving for Lava Honey Pancakes.

Belphegor turns into a strange fuzzy cow-like creature that resembles a Furby, referred to as a Moomie. He recalls not liking them due to them being scary looking, though he says the modern versions don’t look that bad.

Jane turns into a fluffy sheep plushie with a bell attached to a bow. Essentially, she turned into her plushie named Sheepy

[julianrchandlerx]

Seven minutes. 

On average, it took about seven minutes to die from asphyxiation. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven minutes. It likewise took about seven minutes for a person to fall asleep. A strange similarity that Julian Rhys Chandler would spend a millennia thinking about, during the quietest moments of his eternity where nothing could occupy him save his own mind. Death had always been such a distant concept to a mortal man of only thirty years. When you’re that young, it felt like nothing could bring you down, and Julian was no exception to that rule. If he thought of his passing, he imagined Death finding him old and wrinkled, gray but hopefully in a distinguished way, and after having lived a long and exceptional life.

At this point in time, there was nothing particularly exceptional about Julian Chandler’s life. A life spent in the immeasurable shadow cast by the Chandler men who came before him, a lonely human existence in a world stranger than fiction. No amazing achievements on record, no wild escapades or fantastic stories to be told. Up until that day, April 21st, 2023, he seemed exceptionally average. Even when he knew the threat of death loomed somewhere above his head, he hadn’t thought it possible.

There would be no tragedy at this town event, after all.

Julian Chandler had been doing his best to side step the overall activity. Long, awkward limbs had not made the best for dancing, though he would have tried his hardest if ever required. Still, he hadn’t come there to participate in the competition. In a fuchsia sweater he found at the thrift store which he thought was passably retro, cuffed Levi’s and scuffed converse sneakers, he hugged the perimeter of the dance-a-thon, watching the fantastical people of Lunar Cove live their enchanting lives. A drink in hand, and a dozen or so chips filling his belly, Julian looked around and thought for that moment that life was good. Life had been good as of late. He was, for the most part, living his childhood dream of living off his artistic abilities (never mind that he was basically a starving artist though) and while it was small, he found a genuine community in this supernatural haven.

Following this train of thought, his eyes sought out the faces which made it for him. Ralph Middlemas was the first he spotted among the crowd, surefooted on the dance floor in a way Julian could only dream to be. His charisma and swagger rolled off him thickly, so full of life and personality. He wanted to be like the vampire, to have his confidence and his spunk. That animated charm which radiated the warmth and comfort of a million suns. The very things that invited Julian in and made him trust Ralph so much, made their friendship what it was. Was that how brothers were supposed to be, he wondered. Was that what he always lacked and craved from his own blood? This sort of bond where they could be goofy and themselves but then get real and honest. The kind of person he knew he could trust with his life — literally — in any situation. Ralph felt like the closest thing to family.

His gaze continued tracking the familiar faces on the dance floor until it settled rather naturally on Nesrim Erkal. Crush felt too simple for the description — in this past week she became something more concrete to him. Her smile was practically etched in his heart now, and their one evening together was, he hoped, the beginning of countless nights they’d share. Since then, Julian could still feel the curve of her in his arms when he slept, her presence lacking in his bed. They didn’t even do anything beyond cuddling and talking for hours, he hadn’t even kissed her, and yet… he was pretty sure it was the single greatest night of his existence. How he wished he could just stay up all night and listen to her speak, witness her brilliant mind at work. Even if he didn’t understand everything she said, he just wanted to be part of her special world.

More faces blurred past his vision, too many to dwell on for long — Nico, Mateo, Mason, more and more and more — until he stopped. Jasmine St. Claire. She was the whole reason he was here, wasn’t she? Perhaps against better judgment, he followed Jasmine to this peculiar town, and he refused to turn back. Tension existed in their friendship, but he was learning. He was beginning to understand the strange world she belonged in. Maybe it was going to be better. He told her he wasn’t going to walk away when she was facing all this danger, and he meant it. That’s not what a friend does. Julian wanted to be a better friend, the best he could be. He hoped she understood how important she was to him. From the moment she showed up at their high school in Queens, Julian Chandler just wanted to be Jasmine St. Claire’s friend. He didn’t want anything in return, he just wanted to know her and be there for her. That much hadn’t changed in the fourteen or so years since he approached her in high school, and he did not intend to change that at all now. Curse or no curse. Their friendship would persist, he wouldn’t give up on it.

Seven minutes…

He cleared his throat, feeling a tickle. “Damn Doritos,” Julian thought out loud, pulling his cup to his lips to take a generous sip. There was a shiver, only slight, rolling down his spine. An odd sensation since it was kind of warm there. Of course it was — there were so many people packed in, exchanging body heat while mostly in motion. He had felt a bit sweaty beneath his collar, but now he was feeling just a tad cold. Maybe it’s the drink, he thought. The drink that was easily going down for a moment. Catching the sudden spit into his cup, the man coughed against the rim. Whoa, wrong pipe, maybe? There was a rawness in Julian’s throat, an uncomfortable sensation which drew his free hand towards his neck instinctively. This strange hoarseness with a tinge of burn began to spread a bit downward until it took root in his chest. Relax, you just breathed in when you were supposed to drink. Just take a breath. His body followed his train of thought, nostrils flaring a bit as Julian attempted to inhale. And failed. That’s odd. He tried again. No air. Are you anxious or something? Once more. Again, no result. His fingers shook as it began to dwell on him. 

Julian Chandler suddenly couldn’t breathe.

Distantly he could hear the falling of a cup, the tap, tap, tap as it hobbled on the ground and rolled away. He could vaguely feel the cool wetness of the liquid splashing against his ankle and soaking into the fabric of his sneakers and socks. All other sensations were becoming clouded and distant as his body began to focus on this new obstacle hindering it. Why couldn’t he breathe right? Quickly his shallow inhales became larger, hastier gasps for air, a frantic sound resonating from his throat where he was struggling to pull in that air. His lungs were burning, his heart was catapulting a mile a minute, doing wild and terrified laps in his chest. It hurt, and to add to the growing pain was a spike of anxiety that dug its claws into Julian’s shoulders and shook him wildly. You can’t breathe, Chandler!

Blue eyes darted around him as his hand clawed uselessly at his neck and clavicle. As if he could dig into his skin and pull away this unwanted obtrusion keeping him from taking in a breath of air. His other hand waved above his head, high above the crowd which Julian regularly towered over, trying in vain to flag someone — anyone — down. Was he choking? Was this a sudden anxiety attack? He didn’t know what was happening and he didn’t have time to question it. He couldn’t breathe, for crying out loud. He couldn’t even shout out, “Help,” though his lips curled breathlessly around the word. Why wasn’t anyone coming to him? Could they not see him?

His eyes, wide and pleading, washed over the crowd again, over the faces he just mused over, but then his gaze was traveling up the wall and then above him towards the ceiling. A shot of pain flowed from the back of his head, one shoulder, his hip and side, and leg, and Julian realized what happened. He’d fallen over. By now he thought maybe people noticed, but he wasn’t sure, because now he was lying on the floor, frantically gasping for air that wouldn’t come to him. His vision was blurring, and in the back of his mind he thought maybe this was a sign. Lose oxygen and sooner or later you’re bound to lose consciousness.

Blue eyes searching the area above and around him, he thought maybe a face was coming into view but he didn’t allow himself too much time to make out the details. He was dying. He knew it now. He felt it now. Death was there, standing over him in its dark shroud with a clock in its hand, slowly counting down the minutes until it claimed him. Seven in total. It was coming for him so fast and he couldn’t keep up. Was this how curses took someone, or was this some other cruel trick of fate? Was this somehow always meant to be his destiny — to lose his life in an unfamiliar town in the middle of a dance floor, surrounded by people but without his family near?

Hands shaking above his chest and throat, he mustered up whatever strength was still in him as he managed to catch his voice for one, brief moment. “Ralph,” he croaked. “I need Ralph.” If the last words were said or just part of his imagination, he wasn’t sure. He was focusing then on the gallop of his heart as it slowly but steadily began to dial back. Lose its momentum. It was growing darker and darker at the edges of his vision, his mind slowly collapsing in on itself. Faces and memories and thoughts and unfulfilled dreams passed him by. He never made his great masterpiece, his magnum opus, he didn’t leave anything grand behind. He hadn’t settled down and started a family like he always hoped he would, hadn’t owned anything material and worthwhile in this life that could be his legacy. He hadn’t spoken to his father in god knows how long, and he hadn’t made amends. He never did anything to make Russell Chandler proud of him.

And he hadn’t seen his mother in months. Caroline Chandler. Her face came to his mind’s eye and stayed there. She had always coddled and doted on him, and now he was dying and she had no idea. She wasn’t anywhere near. And all he wanted was to see her one last time, to feel her fingers through his hair, and to hear his own mother tell him it would be okay. Everything will be okay. His chest jumped painfully as he tried to grasp onto anything, to break out of this and keep going. If only it were so easy. He felt the cold coming then, slowly, gently, like a thin, soft blanket being laid over him. A lot like being tucked in by mom before bed. Maybe you should close your eyes and go to sleep, a tempting thought began to settle in and Julian couldn’t tell if his eye lids were closing or if his vision was finally failing him.

Seven minutes… Just like falling asleep. 

[ultrahpfan5blog]

So just came out of Spider-man: No Way Home a couple of hours ago. Its a film that that truly is aiming big, both in terms of story and character. And it manages to stick the landing and deliver on the crowd pleasing moments while simultaneously developing the MCU Spider-man in a meaningful way. There's no way to discuss this movie without talking spoilers so be warned.

In essence, this is a culmination to three separate series of live action Spider-man movies. What could easily have been just a throwaway gimmick is handled in a way that is true to Spider-man and giving the MCU the most authentic Spider-man movie to date. For sure, this is a film littered with fan service. Its the sort of movie where you can't go 10-15 mins without a big cameo or a reference or a spectacular action scene. But it is fan service done in a good way. I also feel that this is the MCU film which gets Spider-man the best. I am not sure it is the best movie of the "Home" trilogy. Homecoming might still be slightly better as a movie overall, but I think No Way Home is the best Spider-man movie because it gets the Spider-man character so right.

The film is 2.5 hours long and it never felt it to me. The film has three distinctive acts. There is a lot of ground that it is covering so there are aspects of the film that feel a little rushed. It picks right after the mid credit scene of Far From Home, with J Jonah Jameson revealing Spider-man to be Peter Parker. The first act is very in keeping with the small scale of Homecoming and Far From Home where it deals with Peter struggling to deal with the fact he is now a celebrity, with half the people hating him and the other half loving him. The film breezes by the potential legal troubles for Peter after a quick montage which ends with a a pretty sweet re-introduction of Charley Cox as Matt Murdock. It might have actually been interesting seeing Peter wiggle himself out of this situation but the movie isn't really interested in that aspect of it. Instead it focuses on the struggles he, MJ, and Ned go through due to being figures of controversy and how it affects their future plans for college. On that note, I did find it funny how Peter, Ned, MJ, and Flash were all either getting in or expected to get into MIT as if that's just a normal thing. Its like the best tech university in the world. But I digress. I love that we see the noble side of Peter, in that he feels bad about the impact of his reveal on MJ and Ned to the point that even when he begs the MIT administrator to reconsider the applications, he refers to MJ and Ned, not himself. However, in the process of him feeling bad, he ends up asking Doctor Strange for a memory erasure spell which he subsequently disrupts and causes to malfunction. The re-introduction to Doctor Strange and Wong is also done in fun manner. I think the events that lead to the spell malfunction work a lot better than it felt in the trailer. It felt less out of character in the movie than it did in the trailer so I'm glad they changed it. Once the spell is cast though, that's when the film really kicks off and the scope increases.

The film kicks into another gear entirely with the re-introduction of Doc Ock and subsequently, Green Goblin, Electro, Sandman, and Lizard. The villains from Maguire and Garfield's Spider-man movies return. Of the 5, the focus is definitely more on Doc Ock, Green Goblin, and Electro whereas Sandman and especially Lizard get the short thrift. But I got a real kick out of seeing the villains interact. Especially seeing the interactions between Octavius and Osborne, two people who are both brilliant scientists and had their brains taken over by darker selves. There are some fun exchanges that dig into some of the absurdities and faults of previous films, like Max making fun of how crazy Lizard's plan to make the entire city into Lizards in TASM, or Max and Flint discussing how they both got their abilities in a ridiculous accidents. Its also fun to watch Tom's Peter interact with these characters. And it feels like a very Spider-man thing for him to want to help the villains instead of allowing them to die. The interactions with Molina are pretty funny and the interaction is Dafoe are pretty sweet. It was also fun to see Strange interact with these characters. In general there is a certain kick out of watching these characters interact.

The film takes a decidedly darker shift in the middle of the movie with the turn in Osborne and the subsequent gut punch death of Aunt May, who delivers the iconic line about power and responsibility before her death. That's a brilliantly acted scene and the entire sequence where Peter realizes something is wrong and we see the turn in Dafoe is fantastic tension building and superb acting. The subsequent action sequence is intense and thrilling. And immediately after that the movie achieves even greater heights with the introduction of Andrew Garfield and then Tobey Maguire as Peter Parker/Spider-man from the respective franchises. From there on out, the film only gets better, hitting both its emotional marks as well as its humor and action marks perfectly. The entire final act is hugely entertaining and incredibly gratifying to someone who has watched all the Spider-man movies and enjoyed all of them to a certain extent, even the weaker ones. The film does an excellent job including both Garfield and Maguire without them being just fan service. Not only do they provide some additional development in terms of mentorship to Holland's Peter, but the humor and dynamic of the trio is the best aspect of the movie. Garfield's Peter in particular gets some development and healing which was left incomplete after TASM2. As someone who was a big fan of his performance in those movies, it was very gratifying to see some payoff to his character arc.

Jon Watts has clearly grown much more comfortable in terms of directing action. The action scenes in this movie are incredibly fun. The climax is obviously fangasmic highlight with all three Spideys fighting the villains, but the Doc Ock vs Peter, the Goblin vs Peter fight leading to Aunt May's death, and the really cool and trippy sequence between Doctor Strange and Peter are all serious amounts of fun. Its definitely the best action of all the MCU Spider-man films.

However, as I mentioned previously, the film does have its flaws. They aren't significant enough to detract from its enjoyment and they are fairly minor but they are there. As I mentioned before, of the villains, Sandman and Lizard get the short thrift. The film doesn't really give an indication how they died since they didn't die in Spider-man 3 and TASM films respectively. Also not sure why Flint Marko started attacking Spider-man. He wanted to be cured and go home so he has no reason to go against Peter. Similarly, Lizard is just kind of there and just attacks for no reason. The film gives no reason for why Max looks different and even makes fun of that fact. In addition, I realized a plot hole because Octavius mentioned that Osborne became the Goblin. However, that was never public knowledge since Harry himself also only found out at the end of Spider-man 2. So Octavius wouldn't know either. Similarly, Max doesn't know who Spider-man is. So why is he there given the gimmick is that only the villains who know Peter's identity have come through. The film's use of Doc Ock also is also mostly for humor reasons although his assist in the climax is wonderful and he has a lovely scene he shares with Tobey Maguire. The main issue I have with the film is over what are supposed to be the two gut punch scenes. One is Aunt May's death. The scene is wonderfully well acted by both Tom and Marissa and certainly Marissa Tomei gets the most to do in this film compared to the previous two films. The problem is that the film's haven't done a really good job giving May much depth beyond being a kooky, fun aunt. So that relationship doesn't quite have the same depth that previous Peter-May relationships have so that emotional gut punch is not quite as hard as it probably should have been. Secondly, the ending where MJ and Ned forget Peter is also supposed to be an emotional gut punch. However, my issue there is that the MJ and Peter relationship really only felt like a cutesy teen romance until this movie. This film does an excellent job with the relationship but it feels like that romance escalated really fast and we are supposed to feel that these are star crossed lovers, but that feeling isn't quite there because the previous two movies haven't quite earned it. The Peter-Ned relationship is the one that feels the most developed so that is actually the portion that hits hardest.

Also, there are definitely a few convenient developments. Ned able to do magic that took Strange ages to master is definitely something that got my eye rolling. Peter beating Doctor Strange in a fight was also not believable. They didn't really give any explanation as to why Peter's body was still moving when Strange separated him from his physical body. Also, I am not very clear over how the final spell works. People forgetting Peter exists can't mean that Peter's existence has been wiped. He must still have a record of going to school etc... That part wasn't very clear to me. Also, the Venom mid credit scene was a bit disappointing. The whole thing being just a troll move to just bring the symbiote into this universe is a bit underwhelming. Especially given this film already has dealt with Peter having to deal with his rage. I'm not keen on a black suit Spider-man arc in the MCU. Also, anyone else confused on what Sony is doing right now? Morbius seems to exist in the same universe as Venom who is conclusively from a different universe, but also has Keaton who looks like he's playing the same character in the MCU. So that is definitely a little confusing. In addition, I am curious as to the implication of trouble for Stark Industries. I mean, Tony was incredibly irresponsible, giving a 16 year old the charge of such a dangerous weapons system. I'm curious what the status of EDITH is. I think I saw Peter had the glasses somewhere. But that was before the memory reset.

The film has made a big swing at a giant reset for Spider-man in the MCU. In a way, the Home trilogy has been one big origin story where Peter matures. I assume that the massive ramifications for the end of this film will force that maturation. Up till now, one of the issues with the MCU Peter is that he hasn't really matured. Despite what he goes through in Homecoming, in Infinity War/Endgame, and in Far From Home, he still was making immature decisions. I would hope that we take a bit of a break from Spider-man and we get a more mature Spider-man whenever the next MCU Spider-man movie happens.

The performances in this film are all amazing across the board. Tom Holland definitely gives his best performance in the role. He's fantastic. Whether be it in his emotional scenes like in May's death, or in his romantic scenes with MJ, or his little brother dynamic with the Spideys, he's at the top of his game and the film never loses sight of the fact that this is his film. Zendaya also does her best work in the role. She and Tom are genuinely sweet together which makes me think that they should have skipped the Liz Allen romance from Homecoming and started the romance from the beginning so the relationship felt a bit more developed. Jacob Batalon continues to be a highlight. I love that Ned has continued to be a substantial character in these movies and there are some fun nods to his comics connections. Marisa Tomei definitely gets her meatiest role in the series so far and she is lovely. JK Simmons as J Jonah Jameson is a treasure who cannot be recast. I hope we see more of him. Benedict Cumberbatch is terrific as Doctor Strange. His curmudgeon like dynamic with Peter and his friends is delightful, but also there is an undercurrent of softness, particularly by the end of the movie between him and Peter. Benedict Wong and Charlie Cox make welcome cameos. Jamie Foxx gets a bit of a redemption and he's definitely not as cartoonish as he was in TASM2. Thomas Hayden Church and Rhys Ifans are presumably at least voicing the characters. I am not sure if they physically appeared or not or if the footage was used from previous films. They are a bit wasted but its nice to have them back. Alfred Molina is lovely as Doc Ock. He is used for humor reasons but I like that the film doesn't undo his redemption arc. His scene with Tobey is lovely. Speaking of, Tobey Maguire is also lovely to have back. I would say he doesn't have as much emotional weight in his role because his Peter seems to have his life sorter. So he acts kind of as an older brother/mentor to Garfield and Holland Spider-man. He does have a few strong scenes like his scene with Molina, when he talks about Uncle Ben, and when he prevents Holland's Peter from killing Goblin. The scenes where the Spider-man talk about his organic web shooters is also a lot of fun. Also, have to mention Jon Favreau as Happy who is again wonderful in his role as Happy Hogan.

The two guys who are the scene stealers in my book are Willem Dafoe and Andrew Garfield. Willem Dafoe is outstanding in this movie. He might have been even better here than he was in Spider-man (2002). Whereas he was hamming it up to great effect in that movie, on purpose due to the tone of the Raimi films, here he has a more grounded menace to him. I love the decision to discard the mask and just make use of the classic purple jacket with the green armor and just use Dafoe's face to convey the Goblin because that's just how good he is. The other highlight is Garfield who steals every scene he is in. He is effortlessly charismatic, reminding me why I was a fan of him in the role. It feels like he is overjoyed at being back and he delivers both the humor as well as a lot of emotion in scenes. The scene where he talks about Gwen and her loss is heartbreaking. Also, him saving MJ is one of those crown pleasing moments but also an emotional moment. The film really does a lot with his Spidey in just a handful of scenes because he gets some genuine character development. The brother dynamic between him, Tobey, and Tom is wonderful. I don't know if it will ever happen, but I would love to see them together in another movie. I doubt it but I would love it.

Overall, this film is a blast. Is it the best MCU movie. No. But it might be the best Spider-man movie. I don't think its quite as cohesive as Homecoming but it gets the Spider-man character so right and its such a love letter to the character as a whole. Its definitely one to watch a few times. Jon Watts has been excellent as the director to this franchise and I look forward to his Fantastic Four as a result. The score could go up or down, but right now, this ranks at a 8.5/10

Edit: Forgot to mention, but the Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness teaser in the post credits scene looks pretty awesome. Kind of cool that What If? is tying into the live action films.

[puddygeeks]

Wᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ Dᴇᴀᴅ Oʀ Aʟɪᴠᴇ - Sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ Tʜɪɴɢs, Eᴅᴅɪᴇ Mᴜɴsᴏɴ/OC - Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ Tᴡᴏ: Cʜᴀɴɢᴇs

Masterlist

Episode: Pre season 4

Rating: Mature

Summary: Since she was five years old, Marcie Bell and Eddie Munson have been inseparable. There was never one without the other. That is, a near death experience with the Mind Flayer changed everything. Now, Marcie must navigate her newly realised feelings for Eddie, whilst facing down the Upside Down all over again. Whoever said love was easy?!

Fix it fic. There will be absolutely no Eddie Munson death here!

Fandom: Stranger Things

Pairing: Eddie Munson x OC

Status: Ongoing

My writing is entirely fueled by coffee! If you enjoy my work, feel free to donate toward my caffeine dependency: will work for coffee  

Warnings: 𝑀𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡. 𝐷𝑟𝑢𝑔/𝑎𝑙𝑐𝑜ℎ𝑜𝑙 𝑢𝑠𝑒, 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑙 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑢𝑙𝑡/𝑑𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑠 ��𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑑, 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡, ℎ𝑢𝑟𝑡, 𝑠𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑏𝑢𝑟𝑛, 𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑒𝑑 𝑢𝑛𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠, 𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑚𝑎, ℎ𝑖𝑔ℎ 𝑠𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑙 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑚𝑎, 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ, 𝑏𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑙 𝑈𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝐷𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑓𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑟𝑦.    

Taglist: @toobsessedsstuff​

♫  ♠  ♫  

Marcie woke with the sunrise the next day. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying, cheeks red and swollen. She estimated that she had managed maybe a couple of hours of sleep and could stand to stare at her ceiling no longer. With a sigh, she accepted that she would not be able to return to sleep. 

Sitting up in her bed, she dragged her lazy gaze across the room. Large posters covered a majority of the walls, only broken up by a collage of Polaroids and a cork board filled with ticket stubs from the many Corroded Coffin gigs that she’d attended. Most of the furniture was mismatched, having been gathered from thrift shops or garage sales, and they hadn’t been able to afford to do much in the way of decorating. 

In the corner of the room laid the broken skateboard from when her and Eddie had decided that they needed to be a bit more athletic. The scar on her left elbow remained a permanent reminder of how bad an idea this had been, though she doubted she would ever forget the discomfort of wearing a cast for an entire summer. 

The pride and joy of her room however was her tape deck. It was almost entirely covered in band stickers and had been repaired so many times that it was hardly even the same piece of equipment anymore, but she loved it. The entire top of her dresser was dominated by her extensive tape collection, most of which were mixes that she’d been gifted by Eddie in a bid to better educate her. Regardless of what life threw at her, music was a comfort that she could always count on.

Digging through the piles of clothes on her floor for something to wear, she discounted any of the numerous band t-shirts that she had stolen from Eddie over the years. In a mad scramble to make the first bus of the day that could get her to school before Eddie would arrive to collect her, she grabbed a green and black striped jumper, a pair of old baggy jeans and her doc martens to run into the bathroom. After splashing her face with water and throwing her hair into a scruffy braid, she practically fell out of the door to the trailer.

She arrived at school before most and was pleased to find that Robin was also already on campus for band practice. Placing herself outside the practice room, she settled on the floor to read. Despite being at least her third time reading the Hobbit, she found a strange comfort in repeating the experience. There was something about already knowing the events that was soothing for her anxiety.

Once Robin emerged from the room, they grabbed a couple cans of soda from the cafeteria and walked the halls as Marcie caught her up on the events of the previous evening. 

“Ew. That sounds like an actual nightmare.” Robin grimaced as she strolled at her best friend's side. “I mean, at least you got the chance to catch up with Beck.”

“Yeah, that was nice. Really it was the only good part of the evening.” Marcie sighed. “Which is strange, because at the start it all seemed to be going so well.” She continued and noticed that Robin flashed her a sympathetic expression. 

“I don’t know what’s gotten into Eddie.” She breathed, seeming to grow frustrated with him on her behalf. “It always seems so obvious to me that he’s into you. I don’t get how the night derailed so fast. I was thinking about it all evening and just hoping that you were going to come into school with a big loved up grin.” 

“Please. He’s so into me that he just fell and his tongue landed in the other girl's mouth, is that it?” Marcie suggested. 

“What an asshole.” Robin cursed under her breath.

For a few moments they were quiet as more people began to populate the halls and Marcie allowed herself to be lost to her thoughts. The more people around her insisted that the mutual attraction between them was obvious, the more confused she became. Despite promising to distance herself barely twelve hours ago, a small shred of her still clung to hope and she struggled to bury it.

“You know, maybe it would be different if Eddie realised that you were an option?” Robin suggested as they reached their lockers and Marcie tilted her head in silent question. “Maybe he’s just an idiot. It’s entirely possible. You might have to spell it out for him that you’re open to more than friendship.”

“Seriously?” She scoffed as she swapped around books to ensure she was prepared for the day. “What should I do, ask him to meet a secret admirer on the field at recess?”

“Well, Valentine’s Day is coming up. You could send an anonymous gift.” She offered as she stored away her band gear, leaving Marcie to chuckle. 

“Come on, Robin. We’re not in 4th grade anymore.” She teased, before leaning around the locker door to speak in a hushed tone. “Plus, don’t you think that’s a little hypocritical coming from the girl who still can’t tell Vickie that she’s an option?” 

“That’s different and you know it.” She pouted, slamming the locker door shut.

Though it was difficult to convince Marcie to talk earnestly about her feelings for Eddie, it was nothing compared to the challenge of prying anything from Robin about her love life. Despite coming out to her best friend in middle school, she had been surprisingly tight lipped when it came to discussing her options. 

Fortunately, Marcie had always found her as transparent as glass when it came to figuring out her crushes, but no matter how much she strained to build her confidence, she never seemed to be able to encourage her to take a chance on anyone.

In an effort to avoid Marcie’s scrutiny, Robin turned to storm down the hall. Her best friend rushed to close her locker before jogging to catch up to her.

“Sure, I guess it’s more complicated, but I think you’re in with a shot too.” Marcie pointed out not for the first time, but Robin refused to meet her eyes. “I still can’t believe you came out to Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington before any girl. I mean, really?! Of all people he seems like a really strange choice.” 

“Will you keep your voice down?!” She hissed as her friend grew sheepish at her scolding. “Besides, I know he totally seems like a douche, but Steve’s actually not so bad.” 

Marcie couldn’t argue with this, recalling how easily he had come to her rescue the night before. As much as it killed her to admit it, he had already succeeded in earning at least some of her approval. It seemed that no matter how much she tried to keep her distance from him, each time that they interacted left her steadily more impressed with him. 

“You might be right about that.” She admitted reluctantly as she paused at the door to their classroom. “He did take me home without insisting on knowing why. He was a little nosy, but considering that he helped me out of a sticky situation, I’m willing to overlook that for now. I will reserve judgement for a little longer.”

Robin smiled at this revelation, but just as she opened her mouth to celebrate her victory, an abrupt sound sent a chill down Marcie’s spine. 

“Marcie!” Eddie's voice echoed throughout the hall. “Marce!” 

“Oh, shit. I think someone is looking for you.” Robin breathed nervously, turning to glance over her shoulder in the direction of the voice.

Unable to stop her gut reaction to turn toward her name being called, Marcie looked up to find Eddie rushing through the crowded halls with a frantic expression. Their eyes met for a moment between the other students and she felt her stomach drop. No matter how much she tried to convince herself that she could be strong, she knew that she was not at all prepared for whatever questions he might have.

Sensing her distress, Robin grabbed her wrist and began to pull her into the classroom before he could reach her. Catching his eyes again as he attempted to push through the students, Marcie held up her wrist and tapped an imaginary watch as if she was running late, then allowed herself to be dragged into where he would be unable to follow her. 

For the first time this year, she was relieved to be in a different math class to Eddie. She settled in her usual desk beside Robin with a knot in her stomach and tried to bury the anxiety that she felt. As the other students gathered in groups to chat, or busied themselves with getting their books ready, she couldn’t help staring at the door. 

When their teacher arrived, she caught sight of Eddie in the gap of the closing door shrugging at her and was able to quickly lipread “what the fuck” before he disappeared from view. 

“It won’t do him any harm to sweat it out a bit.” Robin leaned over to whisper as the teacher called the class to attention. “It’s the least he deserves.” 

As usual, Marcie couldn’t concentrate throughout her class thanks to Eddie. She already regretted lashing out at him the night before, worrying that she might have said too much in her temper and wondered what she could say when she saw him to cover her tracks. His frantic expression at the door caused knots of anxiety in her chest that lasted until the bell rang.

The moment that she stepped out into the hall and found him absent, she released a long sigh of relief. Robin quickly caught up to her, looping her arm through hers.

“So, I was thinking that you could do with a change of scenery.” She breezed and Marcie turned to view her with interest. “I think part of the reason that you can’t get over Eddie is that you’re almost never apart. Even when you’ve been trying to distance yourself, you’re always accessible to him. We need to keep you busy.”

“Robs, if you suggest joining marching band again I will strangle you.” She quipped, receiving a swift jab to the ribs.

“No! We’ve already established that you’re not cool enough.” She teased. “However, I heard from Keith that they are hiring for the record store and I know that there is no-one with as much musical knowledge as you.”

Marcie’s face lit up at this suggestion and she squeezed her friend closer in a token of appreciation, despite her best efforts to pull away from her.

“You are a genius!” She breathed as Robin batted her away.

“I know, I know. You really don’t deserve me.” She chuckled, before pausing in the hall in preparation to separate from her. “Come along to the store with me today after school and I’ll put in a good word for you. Until then, stay strong and don’t talk to Eddie.”

Without waiting for her to agree, she started walking backwards and gave her a salute, before disappearing down the hall. Marcie chuckled at her theatrics on the way to her next class, noticing that the rest of the day passed relatively easily now that she had something to look forward to. For whatever reason, Eddie didn’t seek her out again and she began to feel hopeful that she might actually manage the whole day without him.

By the final bell, she was running late and practically jogged to her locker to collect her things. She rattled the contents with little awareness of her surroundings, completely preoccupied with worrying that she would make Robin late for work.

“You know, if I didn’t know better I would think you were avoiding me.” 

For a split second, she thought she had imagined Eddie’s voice as a result of her anxiety, but when she closed the locker door her stomach dropped. He was leaning against Robin’s locker with his usual charming smile and Marcie had to steel herself to not immediately surrender to it. 

“I didn’t think you’d notice.” She muttered as she struggled to cram all of her books into her bag in a bid to avoid meeting his eyes.

“I was worried about you, Marce.” He admitted after a few seconds of silence and she couldn’t resist glancing up at him. “When you weren’t home this morning, I thought something might have happened. Harrington’s got a reputation. I don’t want you getting mixed up with him.”

“Well it’s a good thing that you’re not in charge of me then, isn’t it?” She answered, her jaw clenching in annoyance at the fact that he would even attempt to tell her what to do again.

At her cold attitude, Eddie straightened up slightly. It seemed as if it had only just occurred to him that something was actually amiss between them and he looked utterly bewildered by it. He opened his mouth to speak a few times, but never managed to find the words. Fortunately, Robin charged into Marcie’s side before he had the chance to dig himself into any more trouble. 

“Hey! We’ve gotta go, Steve’s waiting.” She blurted.

If Eddie’s demeanour had been alarmed before, it was practically mortified now. He crossed his arms across his chest, thinning his eyes at Marcie in suspicion, until he was distracted by Robin. Having noticed who she was talking to, she planted her feet beside her best friend and gave him a look of thorough disdain. 

“Wait-you’re seeing him again?” Eddie spat as his gaze darted between the two girls.

In the distance, Marcie could just hear a car horn and Robin startled in place. She grasped her arm and attempted to yank her down the corridor. Relieved to have an escape from the interaction, Marcie simply shrugged and turned her back on Eddie, allowing herself to be hurried outside. 

Fortunately, the journey was a worthwhile endeavour and she was able to finish the day with a part time job that was barely a couple of doors down from where Robin worked. Opting to avoid her mothers inevitable investigations if she accepted Steve’s offer to take her home, she took the bus and by the time she made it to the trailer she was keen to have some time alone. However, it seemed that her mother had different ideas.

“Finally!” She announced the moment that Marcie entered, jumping up from the sofa to meet her by the door. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten where you lived.”

“Hilarious, Mom.” She droned, rubbing at her face with exhaustion.

“Well, do you have something you want to tell me?” Lori asked, her hands on her hips as she examined her.

“Yeah, actually.” Marcie started, before she perched on the edge of the sofa to undo her docs. “I got a job today at the record store. No set hours just yet, but looks like it could be weekends and a couple evenings after school. Maybe we’ll be able to get that heater fixed after all.”

The tension in her mothers expression momentarily faded, instead replaced by surprise. She fidgeted on the spot, seeming as if she had lost her momentum and Marcie waited patiently in the hope that she would forget whatever lecture she’d had prepared.

“Well, that’s great. Well done.” Lori praised, pausing to stare into the distance for a few moments. “But, no! That’s not what I meant. I thought you might want to tell me about last night?” She offered in an aggravated manner, causing Marcie to frown in confusion. 

Her mother crossed her arms across her chest and levelled her with a glare that could rival that of professional interrogators. Although she was mostly the kind of parent who trusted her to make her own choices, she could be unrelenting when she thought that Marcie was keeping something from her.

After a few moments of failing to intimidate the information that she wanted out of her daughter, she let out a breath in exasperation.

“Eddie was here this morning, looking for you. He was pretty panicked when he couldn’t find you.” Lori started, quirking a single brow at her. “He wanted to know if you had come back last night at all.”

Marcie shifted in her seat, her mind whirring as she tried to decide how best to get her bloodhound of a mother off the scent of drama. It was one of the few ex head cheerleader traits that had remained with her over the years, to always be able to detect when there was something of interest happening. Most of the time, Marcie found it entertaining when she was able to sniff out anyone’s dirty laundry, but today she found herself wishing that her mother would learn to respect boundaries.

“Oh, that?” She started, praying that her tone didn’t give her away. “He was drinking last night. He must have forgotten that I told him I’d be going in early today.” 

The tension in the trailer was practically suffocating under the power of her mother’s gaze and she had to concentrate to prevent herself from gulping. Any sign of weakness, however subconscious, would only lead to hours of questioning that she didn’t have the energy for. She couldn’t tell whether she had managed to convince her, but knew that she was studying her for any indications of deceit. 

“Really, Marcie? I thought I’d raised a better liar than that.” Lori scolded and Marcie felt her stomach drop. “If he didn’t know what time you got back, that means he didn’t bring you home. So, who did? Is there another boy that I don’t know about?”

“Christ, Mom, no! There is no boy!” She groaned, dropping her face into her hands. “There’s really nothing to it. One of Robin’s friends gave me a ride so I could leave early because Eddie was being a dick. That’s probably the only reason that he was weird this morning. He’s not used to being on anything but my good side.” 

In a gesture of stress, she ran her hands up into her hair and released a sigh. A few years ago, she would have crumbled into her mothers comfort, but when it came to Eddie, she knew that the only reaction she could count on was disapproval. If anything, she had grown tired of discussing the events of the party by now and just wanted to sink into her bed.

“Oh.” Lori breathed, her voice softening as she padded over to take a seat beside her. “Well, what was he doing? Did you two fall out?” 

Although her manner was comforting as she placed a hand on her daughter's back, Marcie immediately raised her internal walls. She knew that if she didn’t escape the situation soon, then her emotions would pour out of her and then she would have to deal with her mother attempting to give Eddie the cold shoulder on her behalf. Without hesitation, she jumped to her feet to place some distance between them. 

“Seriously! There’s nothing to talk about. Can you just leave it?” She requested, moving towards her room. “I’m really beat from this morning so I’m just going to have an early night.”

“Well, what about dinner?” Her mother called as she followed her down the hall, seeming confused by her sudden change in demeanour. 

“I ate with Robin already after the job stuff.” Marcie answered from the doorway of her bedroom, sticking her head out one last time before she closed the door. “Night, Mom!”

For the next couple of hours, Marcie laid in bed with her headphones on and listened obsessively to love songs by Queen. She knew it would do her no good, but she couldn’t simply launch herself into moving on without having a proper chance to mourn what she had lost. She missed the days where she could laugh with Eddie for hours, spending nights stargazing on the roof of the van and never having any secrets from each other. It seemed worlds away from how they were now, when she had to second guess everything that came out of her mouth around him to make sure that she wasn’t giving herself away.

By the time that 9pm rolled around, she had completely forgotten her planned phone call with Jonathan. Fortunately, he took the initiative to call her and she was surprisingly pleased to chat about the mundane with him. It seemed easier to open up to someone who knew the person, but was too far removed to have any consequences.

“Well, at least we’re both working now. I think it helps to have some kind of routine.” He breezed, his voice slow and deeper than usual.

“You’re right. I still can’t believe you of all people ended up in cool kid central. Blows my mind.” Marcie chuckled. “Is everyone baked all the time there, or did you just find a new way to stand out?” She added teasingly and was glad to hear Jonathan’s laugh.

“Hey, we all have our vices.” He remarked, leaving her to nod to herself in agreement. “You should come and visit. Maybe when Nancy next comes over, you could catch the same flight. I know the kids would love to see you. Will misses his favourite babysitter. Plus, a change of scenery could do you good.”

“Robin said the exact same thing. If I can save enough from this job, maybe I will.” She conceded, met with a satisfied hum at this outcome. “You should come back here, too. I know everyone misses you. School isn’t the same without you. I bet Eddie could even get you some of the good shit if you let him know in advance.”

Marcie caught herself, going silent at the realisation that she was mentioning him again. It felt as if Eddie was so intertwined with her life that it was almost impossible to tell where hers ended and his began. Sensing the tension even just through the phone, Jonathan cleared his throat.

“So, how long are you going to try to ignore him for this time?” He asked in a light tone, but she found it hard to laugh about it. “He’s a tricky one to ignore. Took me a solid couple of months before he finally gave up on making friends with me.”

“Yeah, I remember.” She chuckled, shaking her head at how put out Eddie had been at failing to collect a fellow outcast for Hellfire. “I don’t know. As long as it takes to stop feeling like I’m dying every time I see him.”

“I know it sucks.” Jonathan sighed. “When Nancy was with Steve, I just kept busy, involved myself with other people. It helps to give yourself something else to focus on.”

She nodded along to his advice, but on the inside, she appreciated that he was trying. It helped to have someone who at least partially understood how this felt. At the time, she had struggled to watch him torture himself with Nancy, but it seemed to have been worth it in the end, even if he did now live too far away to fully enjoy the benefits.

“How are things with Nancy, anyway?” She enquired, shifting the attention to him with a much brighter tone.

Unfortunately, it seemed that Jonathan didn’t share her enthusiasm for this topic. For a few moments, the line went silent and she wondered if they had been disconnected, but then she heard him sighing. As she had been thankful for his patience when she recapped all of the recent drama with Eddie, she didn’t push him and instead simply waited for him to find the words.

“They’re…not bad.” He muttered eventually and Marcie silently grimaced. “I don’t know, Marce. It’s hard to judge when you’re not even seeing each other.”

“It’s nearly Valentine's Day. Perfect time for a big gesture.” She suggested. “You could make a surprise visit! Arrive at her doorstep with a bunch of roses. I haven’t exactly spent time with her, but Nancy seems like the kind of girl that would be a sucker for romance.”

Finally, the tension broke as Jonathan chuckled quietly at this image that she had painted for him. Marcie wished that she could say something more helpful, but with her lack of experience in relationships, she could offer little more than a listening ear. However, when he spoke next his voice was lighter and she hoped that she had managed to relieve some small amount of his stress.

“I don’t think it’s my style, but hey, maybe I’ll pass the idea along. I’m sure Eddie would appreciate a nudge in the right direction.” He quipped and Marcie gasped. 

“Don’t you dare!”

After a few more moments of shared laughter, she overheard a voice in the background and Jonathan sighed deeply.

“Sorry, but I have to go. Argyle wants me to help him out with the evening shift.” He explained and glancing down at her watch, she calculated that it was only around 6pm there. “Will wants me to say hi before I go.” He added awkwardly.

“Tell him I said hi back.” She giggled, her heart aching with fondness for the family. “Send them all my love, actually. And don’t work too hard!”

“No danger of that. Try not to give Eddie too hard a time, either. He really is just a dumbass.”

♫  ♠  ♫

A couple of days had passed, and between work and school, she’d been rather successful at avoiding Eddie. Probably more than in any previous attempt. For that, she could only thank Robin and her devious little mind. As usual, her best friend always had her back and was giving Eddie the equally cold shoulder any time that he dared to ask if Marcie was okay. 

By Thursday afternoon, she was feeling rather proud of herself and looked forward to a weekend of hanging with Robin and Steve, who it turned out was really not so bad afterall. If anything, she was consistently surprised by how awkward Steve was after watching almost every girl at school falling at his feet for years. She found herself wondering how he’d managed to maintain such a reputation, but held the questions inside until she knew him well enough to ask.

Stopping at her locker before the last period of the day, she swapped out books to lighten her bag before the squeaking of trainers on the floor alerted her to a very energetic new arrival.

“Ah, Marcie! She’ll know!”

Dustin, Mike and Lucas came hurtling towards her, bunched up together in their mania. They had already managed to cause quite a commotion in the hall, banging into other students and she turned to view them with apprehension. 

“Marcie, do you have any idea where Eddie is?” Dustin spluttered as the trio bundled around her and she had to step back to gain some personal space.

“It’s an emergency!” Mike added, before Lucas cut in at her raised brows.

“A DND emergency, not an ambulance emergency.”

Glancing between each of them, she searched for any indication that they might have been put up to this, then leaned to check that there was no one watching from a distance to judge her reaction. Once content that this was a genuine mistake, she returned her attention to them impatiently.

“No, I have no idea where Eddie is.” She remarked, attempting to return to her locker only for them to creep around the door to continue staring at her. “You’ll just have to save the princess or whatever without him.”

“It’s serious, Marcie. He’s always available before campaigns.” Mike insisted. “He’s never missed a pre game warm up.”

“Could you pass him a message? You’ll probably see him before us?” Lucas suggested, whilst the other two nodded in agreement.

“Alright. Listen up kiddos, because I’m not going to repeat myself.” She started, slamming her locker door to face them. “I don’t know where Eddie is. I can’t get a message to him. I’m not his damn secretary. We both have our own lives and right now, I am too busy for them to intersect. I can’t help you.”

Pausing to zip up her bag she moved to leave, but Dustin jogged around her to block her path again.

“What? Why?” He blurted, a deep concern filling his young face. “You guys are pretty much inseparable. What’s wrong?”

“Grown up stuff.” She answered curtly, before crossing her arms in annoyance when Dustin tried to block her again. “If you want Eddie, you’ll find him anywhere but with me. Shoo!” She insisted, waving him out of the way so that she could get to class.

The three boys watched her leave in a shared state of shock, hardly able to comprehend that anything could get between Marcie and their fearless leader. For as long as they had known him, the two of them had pretty much come as a set. If there was trouble in paradise, then this could explain Eddie behaving even more erratically than usual lately.

By the end of the day, they charged into their club room and simultaneously breathed a sigh of relief when they found Eddie surrounded by books in his usual state of planning.

“Hey! What are you nerds doing?” He barked, quickly covering his notes before they could gain any hints. “I’m trying to work here. What do you want?”

“We had some questions about adding a second class to my character.” Lucas started. “We were thinking about how much we struggled in the last session, and before the next dungeon, we thought that I could take a side quest to-”

Eddie held up a hand to halt them, his expression heavy with impatience.

“You seriously interrupted me for that?” He questioned.

The three boys shifted awkwardly on the spot, their gaze simultaneously dropping to the floor as if they had been scolded. Though there was always an intimidating edge to the older boy, there was no question that he had been growing steadily more aggressive this past week. It was only when he cleared his throat to indicate that he was expecting an answer that they startled into attempting to explain themselves.

“Well, we didn’t plan to actually interrupt you.” Mike started as the others nodded at his side. “We tried to ask earlier, but we couldn’t find you.”

“Yeah, we even asked Marcie, but she basically told us to get lost.” Dustin added, but before he could even finish his sentence, Eddie’s entire demeanour changed.

“Woah, woah!” He blurted, leaping to his feet. “You spoke to Marcie?” 

If they had been nervous around Eddie before, it was nothing compared to the intensity that he levied against each of them now. His arms crossed against his chest, brow furrowed with frustration and as each of them straightened their backs in discomfort, he waited for one of them to crack.

Unable to stand the silence for a moment longer, Dustin reluctantly nodded. Wasting not even a second, Eddie grabbed the boy and practically threw him into a chair. He dropped into a seat opposite, pulling it up close as if he was preparing for an interrogation.

“What did she say?” Eddie grilled, watching as Dustin strained to remember. 

“Um-she-well-we-um-” Dustin spluttered, gazing around the room in an effort to avoid meeting the eyes of his captor.

“Hey! Attention here, Henderson!” Eddie pushed, clicking his fingers in front of his face. “Word for word. Tell me everything!”

“Um, okay so…she said she didn’t know where you were, something about being busy?” Dustin stumbled over his words before turning to his friends for help, who each pointed to the other and contributed tidbits.

“Something about saving a princess-”

“-yeah, and being a secretary-”

“You’re right. She did say that. That was weird.”

“Focus, you little goblins!” Eddie exclaimed, growing impatient with their inefficiency. “You’re not making any sense.”

“Oh! She said that if we wanted to find you, then you’d be anywhere but with her!” Mike announced in an overly excited manner, as if overjoyed that he had been able to help but Dustin immediately gestured for him to stop.

Unfortunately for the boys, this warning came far too late. Eddie took a few moments to process this information, leaning back in his seat with his fist over his mouth. Somehow, the silence felt even more suffocating than his relentless questioning and the three boys waited nervously, unsure on whether to comfort him, or hightail it out of there before he blamed them for making things worse. 

After what felt like a lifetime, Eddie finally dropped his head into his hands and sighed.

“I’ve really fucked up.”

♫  ♠  ♫

[entities-of-posts]

[click]

…Oh, hello! Didn’t see you there, heh.

Are you for me? I wouldn’t know why, I always try to stay out of your way. Goodness knows I don’t need to get into any more trouble.

…I did hear about what you did with the Archivist - congrats on that, by the way! I don’t know why it keeps running back to you, but I’m sure you’re having fun with it.

…Are you doing this for the Archivist? God, if that’s the case, I’d better get out of here. I’d rather put off that confrontation as long as possible.

You know I didn’t mean to cause you so much trouble, right? I would’ve even given a statement if you’d Asked! But you always wanted written statements, and, well…

…Do you want a statement? Is that why you’re here? …Well, it’s not like I have anything better to do. Hm… how about the first Book I got my hands on?

I was staying with a friend after a series of unfortunate, though purely mundane, events left me without a place of my own. To help cheer me up, she took me thrifting. I’ve always enjoyed thrift shops; you can always find the strangest things in there. I typically only buy an odd shirt or two, but I enjoy browsing the whole store, just looking at the collection of weird novelty trinkets and antiques.

I was looking through the books when I saw the Book. I can’t remember the title now, but at the time it looked like a collection of fairy tales, though not any I recognized. I was excited to read it, especially since I didn’t think I’d find anything worth picking up there. I also had thoughts about looking up the name on the bookplate as well, to see if Juergen Leitner had anything else I might want to read. Heh.

I never had the patience for books, though. I didn’t finish the collection, and the short stories I did read were all… strange. They definitely weren’t fairy tales like I’d assumed. Each story was a single day focused on a different character. The story heavily implied that the characters had a dark secret or past that they were hiding, but before the secret was revealed, each character would go into the woods that night and be killed by some dark monster. It looked like there was some sort of connection between the characters, but I never did find out what it was. I never finished the Book.

Soon after I bought the Book, strange things began happening in my friend’s apartment. Lights would go out, lit rooms would be darker than they should be, growls and other sounds would come from outside, etc etc. You know, average Dark encounter stuff. I did make the connection between the events and the Book, but I never wanted to really consider it.

One night fairly early on, I was trying to get to sleep. That night specifically, though, I’d stayed up to read another story from the Book, and I was having trouble relaxing in the dark. Especially with the noises outside keeping me up. I thought it was a neighbor’s angry dog growling and… well, the other sounds weren’t really dog noises, but I’d convinced myself it was.

Then the growling started coming from inside my room.

I immediately got up and turned on the lights, but it still felt very dark, too Dark, so I ended up turning on every light in the apartment. My friend was annoyed with me, but even she had been noticing the strangeness with the lights, so she let it go.

At the time, I didn’t believe in the supernatural. I’d had two previous encounters with the entities, but I could brush off or mostly explain away anything strange about those events. And if I’d left the book alone, this story probably would have been the same. But I kept reading.

And it kept happening. At first, the growling would only happen if I read the Book at night, but it very quickly started happening every night. I’d try to go to sleep, and then something inside my room would start growling, and I’d have to turn on all the lights to chase it out. At this point, I honestly thought I was starting to lose my mind; quite a number of mundane things were putting a lot of stress on me at the time. A part of me still refused to accept the existence of the supernatural, and I assumed that I was cracking under the pressure and projecting it onto the story. Either way, though, I became terrified of the beast from the Book coming for me at night.

Eventually, I decided to stop reading it entirely and destroy the Book. I assumed that if the monster from the Book was real, then burning it would destroy it and I’d be safe.

…Luckily, I’m not actually being compelled, so I won’t have to describe what happened when my friend and I tried to burn the Book. I will say, though, that we did manage to destroy it, and that I started believing in the supernatural after it. There really was no good explanation for what happened other than that.

That encounter thrust me into the world of Fears, even if I was mostly interested in Books - well, Leitners - initially. Though I suppose I should save that for another statement, shouldn’t I?

…You’re still here. Are you not finished? Well, I am. [sound of a chair scraping on the ground] Good luck, Archivist! Though don’t take it personally if I don’t see you again, heh.

[click]

Hm. For all they think me a fool for getting so tied up, they certainly got themselves entangled quite easily. Found one of the Web’s tape recorders and immediately start talking to it…

Well, thank you for the statement, Cherry. And good job on officially becoming a beneficiary. I hope you enjoy being bound by the contract more than I do.

… I really should deal with that book thief.

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Berko

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- You met Berko when you went to an alternative club with your friend. You were there for a while before your friend went to get a drink and you were left dancing to the band. 

- After some time, you realized that your friend; who’d promised they’d be right back, had been gone for longer than a few minutes which was strange considering the bar wasn’t even all that busy. When you went to check it out, you found that your friend wasn’t at the bar and so, you began your search. 

- Fast forward thirty minutes and you’re in a bad mood. Your friend keeps weaving in and out of view, somehow evading you every time you spot her and you’re just about ready to tear your hair out. That's when you crash into someone …hard. 

- It may be a sort of bitchy thing to do, but you merely say a “shit sorry” before you spot your friend behind the stranger and fly past them without another word or glance. 

- But Berko isn’t deterred, especially since he can tell that you’re having some kind of problem. So, when he sees you again, leaning against a more quiet wall of the room and looking miserable, he approaches and asks if you’re alright. 

- He’d apparently caught you in a weak moment since you’d relented, sighing and kicking the ground before telling him that you can’t find your friend. He offers to help you and you look at him in reserved surprise before asking “really”. He chuckles and assures you before he grabs your hand, crouches down, and tells you to get on his shoulders. 

- You laugh incredulously, telling him that you’re not gonna get on his shoulders before he reminds you that you’ll be able to see above the entire crowd. You think about it, ask if he’s sure and when you get your reassurance, you do your best to shimmy your thighs around his head. 

- Soon enough, you’re able to find your friend and you climb off his shoulders to grab her. As you’re beginning to pull her up from her seat and drag her out of the club, he asks if he can have your number and you give him a smile, writing it down on his arm before you leave. 

- For your first date, the two of you sort of just spend the night wandering around town, hopping from place to place. You go to thrift stores, music shops, a dingy little Chinese food place. It wasn’t really an eventful night but it was a fun one, though you supposed that he was what made it fun. 

- The two of you share your first kiss a few days later. You were hanging out on the street sorta late at night just dicking around and talking. You’d stopped at a street light for a little bit, one he’d grabbed hold of and started swinging towards and away from you on.

- After some swinging, he’d leaned forward just a bit closer and stopped himself right when you were nose to nose. The two of you locked eyes for a long moment before he tilted his head and seized your lips in his own.

- The two of you broke apart slowly and looked at each other in silence for a minute before he took a step forward, cupped your face in his hands and kissed you with more fervor. Soon enough, you were backed against a fence, his lips moving against your own and your hands fisted in his vest.

- You kiss a lot after that and every time, he gets a little …sugar high.

- There isn’t a ton of Pda in your relationship, he prefers to keep it somewhat behind closed doors or when there’s not a lot of people paying attention. 

- He likes to keep his hands on you a lot, even if he isn’t particularly fond of Pda. He’ll usually hold your shoulders as he stands behind you or grip your thigh as you’re sitting next to each other.

- He leans against you a lot. If you’re standing in front of or beside him, expect him to have; at least, some part of his body resting on you. 

- Hugs from behind.

- Deep kisses. 

- Sloppy kisses.

- Making out.  

- He likes to sit/lay between your legs; its his favorite way to cuddle. 

- He typically just uses a shorter version of your name when he’s talking to you but occasionally he’ll call you sweetheart and pet names like that. 

- Sometimes he’ll call you his little groupie after you come to one of his shows, ruffling your hair and pulling you into a kiss. Occasionally, he’ll make some joke about you wanting to “make it with someone in the band” while bringing you onto his lap with a smile.

- He sorta likes when you’re all sarcastic and mean to him. He digs aggressive girls who aren’t afraid to act tough.

- Affectionate name calling and bullying.

- Buying him an actual shirt; in more of a teasing manner more than anything.

- If your look isn’t on the punk side already, he’s the boyfriend that gets turned on when you try it out. He’d think you looked cute if you tried the other side of the spectrum as well.

- Random debates/discussions.

- Wearing each other’s jewelry.

- Visits at work. 

- Loving looks. 

- Cheap dates. Your both sorta broke. 

- Tv dates. 

- Concerts.

- Bonfires.

- Going to junkyards and smashing stuff.

- Sneaking out to see him since your parents probably don’t approve of him.

- Getting songs written about you. 

- Going to his bands performances. 

- Letting him try to teach you guitar. 

- The two of you are really comfortable with each other, like you could use the bathroom while he’s in there brushing his teeth and it wouldn’t even phase him; and vice versa. 

- Hair mutilation in his tiny apartment bathroom.

- Crashing at his place every once in a while. He won’t tell you but he secretly likes waking up and finding you in bed next to him or seeing you stumble into the kitchen for coffee.

- Matching tattoos 

- He’s not the greatest boyfriend. He forgets about things and is focused on himself a lot of the time. Sometimes he’ll hurt you; emotionally, without even meaning to ...so there’s your warning. 

- He does his best to comfort you, even when you try to push him away. He makes sure you don’t feel alone and that you know he’s going to stick by you, no matter how “messed up you are”. 

- He’s always trying to break you out of your comfort zone, especially if he knows that that's what you really want deep inside you. 

- He’s not an extremely jealous person but certain things irk him. If he knows a guy is interested in you or tried something with you, he’ll successfully play it cool and make them nervous with how calm he’s behaving. 

“Right. Yeah man, sure.”

- Berko isn’t afraid to insult people straight to their face so if he notices someone giving you a hard time, he’ll speak up and scare them off for you. 

- The two of you have more than a few fights but you can usually resolve them pretty easily since they’re never really about anything serious. They’re usually his fault; since he’s the one who usually messes up, 

- He gives you space if you tell him to, though he’ll try his best to apologize to you and have the two of you make up as soon as possible. He hates when you’re giving him the silent treatment. 

- He has trouble telling you that he loves you, even though he knows that he does. He just cant bring himself to do it so he settles for trying to show you that he does. 

- Being delightfully screwed up with each other. 

[vanmccannonlyfans]

Cocoon

part ii.

But that was all the Before. You were now in the After.

The crepitating silence of time resonated in the streets like 200 year old floorboards under heavy boots. All of the joy you once felt evaporated; your memories floating around like specters, tokens of a life now past. Some days it felt like a hallucination, your life now so foreign it was as if you were watching it from the outside, hovering above yourself with the rest of your happy memories sulking around town like wraiths. Haunting yourself. It seemed as though everything you once knew had evacuated; disappeared without a trace. What remained wandered around like a lost dog, homeless and hopeless. When you got the overwhelming feeling that this was just a dream, and you would wake up next to Van, you flicked the inside of your wrist to bring you back to reality. This was real. This was happening. You were here. Van was not.

Not even a year ago you were chasing each other about, skipping over broken glass and laughing at everything.

Days passed the way the trees shed their leaves in autumn: slowly, then suddenly. You started to get out of bed more; even getting a job doing freelance copywriting and editing online. It took your mind out of the guest house, out of Llandudno, and gave you something tangible to do while putting money in your pocket that would all eventually go to the baby. You started shopping for baby stuff at thrift stores and online exchange groups, still avoiding social media for any other reason. You dressed modestly and kept your head low. You shopped off peak times to avoid running in to anyone you knew. Sometimes you felt like people were watching you, but you avoided eye contact to prevent any awkward encounters and dressed in baggy clothes to avoid suspicion.

But when you were in private, you couldn’t help pull up your blouse and admire your swollen abdomen, and would often massage it for hours. It was something that was yours, something you made. No one could take this away from you.

Your body had rapidly expanded; ripe with the promise of new life. You thought you would hate pregnancy and in some ways you did, but you had never felt so powerful and beautiful. How strange and wonderful it was to be able to create life. It felt like you held the keys to the universe between your thighs. Men had to construct power out of arcane figments and through oppressing others; women were born with it, naturally.

Motherhood was never something you thought much about outside of eventually having children with Van someday. It wasn’t something you were desperate for or avoiding; just a thing that would happen in life like death and taxes. You liked kids well enough, but the idea of being a mum the way some people elevated the title didn’t appeal to you. You had always pitied the girls who got pregnant right away, pushing their babies in prams around town as if it were an expensive car. They were so simple and happy, having nothing in life but purpose. Their baby’s fathers were deadbeats or on and off again, some leftover boyfriend from high school, some anonymous and truant.

Having a child with someone you loved seemed natural. Single motherhood had never seemed like a desirable option, you never imagined yourself wanting a child so badly you were willing to do it alone. But here you were, pregnant and unwed.

What changed, you weren’t sure. You and Van had never talked about what would happen if you unexpectedly fell pregnant. He was very confident in his purpose to be a father, talking about having children as if it was coming up on the calendar like Christmas. However, he never reconciled how children would factor into his career, especially his desire to be a career band. If he was constantly touring, how often would he be able to see them? Surely he wouldn’t expect them to go on tour with him, depriving them of a normal childhood. Then again, having a rockstar as a father voids your life from any semblance of normalcy. Everything would be a compromise or a sacrifice.

It was always you and your children who would have to take the fall. You couldn’t build a life or career of your own if you were following him around everywhere. Then when you fell pregnant, having to hang back and raise babies by yourself while your love was off touring. Van would get to have a career and a dutiful partner to carry and raise his children, even if he didn’t get to see them as much as he liked. No sacrifices.

You had always thought in some part of your mind you would terminate if you found yourself where you were now. Especially in high school, before you had left to follow him, and you could have finished school and gone to uni. You’d heard of other girls having terminations, you surely wouldn’t be the first or the last. Van would have only been a short part of your life, surely you would go on to accomplish bigger things and have greater loves. When you looked back, your relationship with Van would be a series of blurs, as if it never occurred. A dream long past.

But that was all the Before. You were now in the After. Van had evenly divided your life into Before and After when he savagely dumped you. Before, you were Van’s. After, you were not. You had never considered After as a real possibility, too drunk in love to weigh the viable consequences of your present decision making. If Van were to leave you, you would have nothing, but the kind of nothing you could mold like clay into a makeshift home. Perhaps not a castle, but a viable shelter one could habit. You could finish school, go to uni, find a job, and never return.

But Van did not merely leave you. Van left you with a child. With nothing in your wallet but a ticket home. Even though he had broken up with you, it was still a child born out of love. You couldn’t force yourself to hate him. Instead, when you thought of him, your heart just sank, leaving in its wake a grief so raw it felt primal. Even though Van had shattered your heart, you still loved him. A child made from love is still born of love, no matter what happens between those two events. Terminating the child of the man you loved felt wrong, despite how thoroughly he discarded you. Especially when you had nothing else to show for it. By having this child, you were giving your love new life.

-

The first time you and Van made love was in his bedroom. He had played you some new songs he had written, and you gushed over his talent like you always did. He could play you new songs every day and it would thrill you just as much as it had the day before. This, of course, led to making out. To your hands down the front of each other’s pants, to pulling off your clothes like they were on fire. Being naked together was still a novelty, fresh and exciting as the day you kissed at that party. The feeling of bare skin pressed together made your whole body tingle, echoing the hunger you felt in your most sacred spaces. You wrapped your legs around his back to maximize the area your skin was in contact. Your bodies rocked together and the earth stood still, as if you were the first couple to discover how to become a part of each other.

You thought your world would change upon your sexual debut, that you would gain some worldly knowledge or unleash a host of curses like pandora’s box. But you largely felt the same. There was no rapture. You had experienced something new, but it hadn’t changed anything for you. You remained yourself. The world spun madly on.

-

Van stopped inhabiting your mind as he once had. Every once and a while you would see something that reminded you of him, like jaffa cakes in the store or Austin Powers playing on TV. Or you would hear someone mention the band, which wasn’t often when you hardly spoke to anyone outside of your family. It didn’t hurt any less when you were reminded of him, but the pain didn’t visit quite so often. The band released a new album, which you only learned about by a poster near the bus stop. You didn’t listen to it.

-

When it came time to pick a name, you weren’t sure what you wanted. For so long, it had just been the baby, nameless but present. Giving it a name was making it real. It would be here soon, earthside. No longer just a concept growing inside of you. Out of your body, and into your arms. Yours.

-

Your brother would never admit it, but he was secretly ecstatic to be an uncle. He built furniture for the nursery and identified every nook and cranny of the guest house that would need to be baby-proofed. Your parents warmed to the idea of being grandparents, checking up on you daily; making sure you ate and took prenatal vitamins. Your mother started bringing home baby clothes and asking to accompany you to your appointments. But the appointments felt too private, you were doing this alone and wanted to meet your baby alone for the first time. You didn’t even want anyone in the delivery room with you. Except Van. You used to think nothing could be more pathetic than having to be alone in the delivery room, but you were excited to have your child all to yourself for their first moments of life.

The OB/GYN who helped you make a birth plan gave you a quizzical look when you said you would be alone in the delivery room. Surely she had noticed the lack of ring on your finger and the fact that you always arrived to appointments alone. Very rarely did the judgement of others truly bother you, but it hurt to be reminded that you were an unwanted fool, hungover on love. That this all could have been avoided had you terminated. But who is scorning all the men who knock women up and leave them to give birth alone? Why is there shame in being the one that stayed?

-

Soon you were so pregnant you could hardly hide it, and had to hide yourself in order to avoid the attention. You asked your family to pick up groceries for you, afraid of being recognized. The last thing you needed was more external stress when you were due any day now.

However, it was late one night and no one in your family was nearby, and you were desperately craving some yoghurt. You checked the clock anxiously, figuring no one would be at Tesco on a Friday night. Everyone but you would be at the pub or at home with loved ones. You put on your baggiest outfit just in case, but even that couldn’t disguise that you were with child.

The shops were a brief walk away, and the cover of night was suitable camouflage. You thought about how fucking pathetic you looked, a pregnant girl trying to hide it while walking alone in the dark on a Friday. The night sky was the same shade as when Van had walked you home from that party, inky and rich. Only now the breeze felt that much more bitter.

-

Tesco was predictably empty, and you exhaled a sigh of relief at the lack of customers. Being out in public gave you the same adrenaline rush as when you would sneak out through your window at night to meet Van, except this time the stakes were much higher. The only sound was the low thrum of the freezers and fluorescent lights. You shuffled to the dairy case at the back of the store, trying to make as little noise as possible, studying the brown and beige pattern of the floor tiles. Your abdomen was now too large for you to zip up your coat over it, so you held it together with your spare hand, a basket in the other.

It seemed that every section in the store had been rearranged since your previous visit, and you felt disoriented wandering around the aisles. The yoghurt section seemed to have doubled since the last time you were there. There were all sorts of flavors and various milk bases, like goat and coconut. You absentmindedly threw several in your basket, unsure of what you wanted now and later.

Suddenly, you felt the unmistakable feeling of eyes glazing over you, a petite form hovering in your peripheral. You could tell from the intensity this wasn’t a stranger--you were being recognized. That realization alone spawned sheer panic, your heart rate quickening. That panic amplified when you looked down, realizing that you had let go of the edges of your coat to stock your basket, your bump on full display.

You turned to the opposite side of the body, hoping to avoid an awkward confrontation. In the corner hung a convex security mirror. In it’s distorted reflection, you recognized the body that had been watching you.

It was Mary McCann.

-

You practically sprinted towards the self checkout, hands fumbling with every scan. You walked faster on the way home than you ever had in your non-pregnant life. By the time you made it in the guest house, you were out of breath and exhausted. Your face was wet--you hadn’t realized you’d been crying. You threw the yoghurt in the fridge, still in the plastic Tesco bag.

Leaning against the wall, you struggled to catch your breath. Fuck. On a night you didn’t think anyone would be out except losers like yourself. The cruel irony of it all.

Anyone adjacent to Van, including Van himself, was exactly who you wanted to avoid. You had no idea what he had told his parents about you. What if they thought you had broken up with him and had gotten pregnant by someone else? Surely they didn’t still think you were together.

Seeing Mary also meant confronting another painful reality for your child: that their life would be half. They would have half the parents, half the family, half the resources, half the attention. Half of the visitors, half of the birthday cards, half of the gifts on Christmas. Half of the support. Half of the love.

This realization turned your stomach, grief bubbling up through your esophagus in dry heaves and sobs. How could you be so fucking selfish? The child was yours, but at what cost to them? At least if you had terminated, you could have eventually moved on and pretended it had never happened. Now you had an eternal scarlet letter to show for it because you were a glutton for punishment.

You knew Mary and Bernie would adore any child of Van’s, whether he was with their mother or not. But the shame held onto you like an anchor; dragging you away from others. I mean, how do you tell someone you’re carrying their grandchild but their own child wants nothing to do with them? At the same time, how could you keep them from their own blood? It would be less painful if they had rejected you the way their son had. Who knows, maybe they would take his side. It wasn’t worth the potential hurt and embarrassment if they did. If Van didn’t believe in the existence of his own child, then it was best not to disturb his reality.

-

It was a crisp weekday morning when your water broke. Your brother drove you to the hospital, vowing to stay in the waiting room as long as it took so you wouldn’t be entirely alone. After several of the most transformative hours of your life, you felt the most immense, profound relief as you heard her cry for the first time. Her. Your baby girl.

Your brother wept when he got to hold her for the first time. Your whole family cried, in fact. You could hardly give her up, wanting to do skin to skin for hours while she slept in your arms. You were mesmerized, she was so delicate and fragile and you made her yourself. You had never known a love this natural and profound. The way you loved her father was different, he was someone you had found. But she was something you made, something more than yourself.

-

Single motherhood with a newborn was hard. There was no one to lean on for midnight feedings, helping with laundry, taking turns with diapers. Of course you enjoyed having her to yourself, and your family helped out as much as they could. But the exhaustion was omnipresent, as you rarely slept for more than two hours at a time on top of doing all the housework and caretaking yourself.

You tried to work whenever you could get someone to watch her or when she would go down for a nap, which happened out of the blue on one overcast afternoon. She had been fussing all morning but had refusing every feeding and pacifier, finally wearing herself out in the early afternoon so you could get some work done.

After just having settled into your desk with a warm mug of coffee, you heard a knock at the door. You didn’t know anyone to knock--your family simply barged right in, and the guest house was at the back of the property so it was out of the way of deliveries and salesmen. Throwing a sweater on over your nightgown, you softly stepped to the door, careful not to make too much noise and wake up your baby.

Nothing could have prepared you for what you saw on the other side of the door. You were sure it was a ghost--no way this could be real. The apparition was a long, thin body outfitted with black jeans and a well cut jacket; sat under a head of piecey blonde hair framing once-sharp cheekbones that had filled out with age. Most haunting of all were the piercing blue eyes--eyes you would recognize in a thousand lifetimes over.  Your vision began to shift as if you were tripping, the air evaporated from your lungs as if you were underwater. The figure lifted it’s head as if to speak, but no sound was made.

Van was home.

-

tagging: @sweetperfume

srs I can’t believe someone asked me to tag them 😭thank you bb 💕

[sunshineysprinkles]

Autumn Emoji Asks. Lets do all the asks. :P

omg!! ambitious!! i will close my eyes and randomly copy paste like five of the questions maybe (:< i just don't wanna clog up anyone's dash with alll of them. thank you sm for asking, though, this is v sweet lol! <33 i hope you've gotten plenty to drink today and that the place you sleep is strangely comfier than usual (':

📆: is there any event or upcoming activity you look forward to?

i'm in a bit of a rut atm so i'm not super hyped about anything in particular, but my birthday is later this month! so that's something [:

🛏️: describe 3 specific items that are in your room.

i've got a harry potter pillow i found at a thrift store in middle school and for some reason his hairline can be pulled back to make him bald?? there's a purple dragon 3d puzzle that i cheated at putting together and has since broken in like two places akjdfanf. aaand my wooden kalimba that's shaped like a cute lil bear head

📢: shout any random thing that your followers really need to know.

YOU ARE LOVED AND FULL OF WORTH !!!!!!!

📚: what are your favorite books?

i am and always have been a huge book nerd so there are too many to list, but my all time favorite solo novel is the secret history by donna tartt! and my fav book that i've read this year is the house in the cerulean sea by tj klune

📷: take a random snap of anything (scenery, item, etc.) and share it here.

it's 1 am so this is the best scenery i can get akjfdan my rainbow bookshelf

ask meme | ask me

[chaoticminhos]

forget me not

—he couldn’t remember what kind of coffee he liked but he still remembered how to be a gentleman, interesting.

pairing: bang chan x reader

genre: angst

warnings: brief mention of a car crash

words: 4.3k

a/n: i cried while writhing this so 👀👀 not proofread

you stepped out of your bedroom and fumbled for a light switch. between the sleepy haze and you not knowing the house yet, you’d never manage to find your way through it without light. you flicked the switch on and made your way down the hall and into your kitchen. everything was so neat and organized. knowing you, that order would be gone within a few days and would never return. you weren’t really one for organization.

you hissed as your bare feet hit the cold tile of the kitchen floor, cursing yourself for not having worn socks to bed.

you opened a few cupboards before leaning back against your table with a sigh. you just wanted a glass of water, but you were struggling to remember which cupboard you’d put all your cups in. your sigh was quickly followed by a yelp of surprise when someone spoke beside you. you lived alone.

“you put them here.” the voice said as he stepped forward and opened a cupboard you hadn’t checked, revealing the cups you’d neatly stacked on the shelf.

you didn’t reply until he grabbed one of the cups himself and went to your fridge to fill it up.

“what the hell are you doing?”

he turned around, holding the glass of water out for you to take. you just stared at it.

he sighed and sat the cup on the table beside you, “helping you get a drink.”

“no,” you backed away from him instinctively as he came closer, “why the fuck are you in my house?”

you tried to sound angry and intimidating, but you honestly couldn’t. you knew you should be shaking with fear, a random man was inside your house in the middle of the night and you did not invite him in. he was much bigger than you and he could easily overpower you, but all you felt was surprise and confusion. there was no fear. it must be the shock, you told yourself.

he shrugged, “you brought me here.”

you frowned, “i did not. i haven’t brought anyone here yet! i’ve lived her for a total of 1 day and half a night.”

he frowned and walked past you and into the living room right next to the kitchen. he flipped the light switch and made his way to the far end of your living room before picking up a small necklace you had sat on an end table.

you’d gotten it at the thrift store. you went there to find some cheap things to decorate your new home with and couldn’t resist the beautiful piece.

he held it up and you just frowned.

“i’m connected to it.”

he held the necklace and came back to meet you in the kitchen, making sure to shut the living room light off behind him. he held out his hand to you and you let him drop the piece of jewelry into your hand.

“what do you mean?”

he picked up the glass of water he had gotten for you and took a drink, “i’m dead.”

you laughed, “no, i’m serious. why are you in my house? i should call the police.”

he shrugged, “call them if you want to start yourself a bad reputation in this town. they won’t find anything when they get here.”

you shifted your feet and stared at him. it wouldn’t hurt to humor him a little, would it?

“you can’t be dead. ghosts can’t hold stuff.” you motioned to the cup or water in his hand.

“we can’t?” he raised an eyebrow, “where’d you hear that?”

you frowned, “it’s common knowledge. it says so on literally every paranormal tv show.”

he set the glass back down and waved a hand dismissively at you, “please, you believe that shit?”

the frown remained on your face as you nodded, “what other sources would i have?”

he smiled, “you’ve got me now.”

he could see the doubt still covering your face and he sighed.

“don’t believe me?” you shook your head and he never broke eye contact as all of the lights in your house went dark. the ones in the kitchen and the ones from the hallway, your house was pitch black.

you heard him chuckle as you let out a sound of surprise and fear and just as quickly as they were off, the lights came back on.

you stared at him for a minute as you tried to rationalize the events in your mind. it must have been coincidence. it was an old house, the salesman had told you you’d have to get some wiring redone. that was probably it.

“if,” you began, cursing yourself for stuttering, “if you can do that, why’d you use the light switch earlier?”

he frowned in confusion.

“when you went to get this,” you held the necklace up, “use turned the light switch on and off with your hand. why?”

he shrugged, “i don’t like using my powers a lot. sometimes it’s nice to feel like a normal person again.”

you nodded, still slightly skeptical. you hated yourself for thinking as you were, but most of you believed him. you didn’t know why, but every word that left his mouth felt honest.

“so, what? you’re like a genie in a bottle? whoever has your necklace has you?”

he nodded, “sort of. i can actually carry it myself if i want to, go wherever i wanna go, but i like letting it find it’s place naturally.” a smile crossed his features, “brings me to people like you.”

you nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“i’m stuck to wherever it is, but that’s not a big deal considering i can carry it myself.”

you nodded again, taking in the information. you crossed the kitchen and reached up to the drawer the boy had taken a cup out of earlier and grabbed your own, filling it with water and walking past him into the living room. he followed you, the full cup from before in his hand.

“why’d you get another glass?”

you shrugged as you sat down on the couch, leaving enough room for him to sit beside you.

“that ones yours.”

he spoke in a teasing tone, “i thought ghosts couldn’t drink.”

you rolled your eyes and to your surprise, a smile found its way onto your lips.

“so i’m stuck with you now?” you teased.

“no,” he teased back, “you could always give the necklace to someone else, but something tells me you’re going to keep it.”

it wouldn’t matter if you gave the necklace away anyway, he decided, he would just pick it up and find his way back to you.

“okay, ghost boy.” you reached your hand out to shake his, “what’s your name?”

you were shocked at how cold his hand felt in your own, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable cold. it was almost calming.

“chan.”

you woke up the next morning convinced meeting the strange boy was just a dream, but you were quickly reminded that it was not by his voice calling your name from the kitchen.

you jumped off your bed and hurried to get dressed to meet chan, who had spent the night on the couch despite having no actual need to sleep, in the kitchen.

to your pleasant surprise, he had already got to work at making the two of you some breakfast. you chucked at how easily he found things around your kitchen.

“it’s like you know where i put stuff better than i do.”

you surprised yourself with the friendly opening. you met him only a couple hours prior to that moment but you already found yourself being friendly with him. he was someone that was easy to be nice to. he was charming, even.

“i do.”

“what, is good memory a special ghost power?” you teased.

“no.” he shrugged, placing two plates on the table and motioning for you to sit down, “i’m just smarter than you.”

you glared at him as you took your seat but it didn’t last long. chan carried the hot pan from the stove and slid two perfectly done pancakes onto your plate. you moved to go to the fridge to grab syrup and butter, but he motioned for you to stay seated and retrieved the items himself.

day one and he was already proving to be a great roommate.

you ate silently by yourself for a few minutes before chan slipped into the seat across from you after putting his own food on his plate. despite you beginning before him, chan finished his food first. it was weird to you that he did things like ate and drank when he had no need to. from what you’d learned the night before, he doesn’t even have good tastebuds as a ghost, so it’s not like he could fully enjoy anything he eats. you understood his reason, though, of wanting to feel normal and alive.

the following few mornings, you woke up to the same thing. chan in the kitchen making whatever he was making for breakfast that morning. the days went the same too, talking or just watching movies and hanging out with chan. it was nice. you liked his company.

but alas, weekends end and you have school and work to go to when they do.

“can i come with?”

you chuckled, “chan, it’s a closed seminar. you’re only allowed in if you’re a student.”

he pouted, “would he even notice? you said your classes are huge.”

you threw on your coat and opened the door, “i don’t know.”

he followed behind you, shutting the door and locking it behind the two of you. you glanced at him in confusion, “i said no, chan.”

he shrugged, “i can still walk you there and wait for you until it’s done.” he smiled, pointing to the necklace around your neck, “plus, with than on you i kind of have to go wherever you do.”

you looked down at the jewel around your neck, chan had insisted you try it on the night before and you hadn’t taken it off.

you chose not to reply as you started your walk in the direction of your university.

it wasn’t a long walk, only a couple of minutes. you’d purposely chosen an apartment close to campus to avoid travel fees.

the trees and buildings you walked past virtually every day were so interesting to chan, though, that the walk took double the time due to his stopping and staring.

“it’s just a tree, chan.” you laughed.

“yeah,” he replied, “but i haven’t seen a cherry blossom tree in,” he paused, “i don’t really know how long.”

when you finally arrived, thankfully still on time, you tried to take the necklace off and hand it to chan so he could go home or explore some more instead of being stuck around your campus, but he refused.

“i like the way it looks on you.” he grinned, “i’ll be fine waiting here.”

you ignored the fluttery feeling in your stomach at his words and waved him goodbye as you entered the building. immediately, you were attacked by your friend with questions. apparently she’d seen you walk up with chan and you walking with a boy was headline news.

“when did you meet him?”

“last night.”

her eyes widened, “you only met last night and he’s already walking you to class?”

you nodded, deciding not to mention that he also lived with you. maybe you should have lied about how you met. you’d have to lie anyway, it’s not like you could tell everyone he was a ghost.

class went quickly and it wasn’t long before you were walking out of the school and scanning the yard for chan. you locked eyes with him just as he stood up from the bench he was on with a smile and began walking towards you. he spoke first.

“can we go to a cafe?”

“what?”

“i haven’t been out in public with someone in forever, please?” he begged, “i didn’t ever make myself known to the last like 4 people who had the necklace so i never got to do things like go to cafes or shops and interact.”

you smiled but your eyebrows furrowed, “you didn’t? why did you introduce yourself so quickly to me, then?”

he shrugged, he did that a lot, “i knew you’d be fun.”

fun? if he considered sitting inside and watching movies or sleeping all day as you usually did was fun, then he was in for a great. otherwise, he might be disappointed.

you nodded and started in the direction of your favorite coffee shop. it was a little further away than other places, but it was worth the walk. chan was less distracted this time, evidently he’d wondered and marveled at enough trees and skyscrapers to satisfy him while you were in class. instead, you held easy conversation the whole way. it still surprised you how easily words flowed when speaking to him. conversation wasn’t awkward and you never ran out of things to say or out of energy to listen to him talk.

you actually really liked listening to him talk. he had a nice voice.

you opened the door to the cafe and chan followed you inside and right up to the counter. there wasn’t a line, so it was your turn to order right away.

“hi,” you greeted the girl at the register, “can i have a caramel mocha please?”

she nodded and turned to chan, “and you?”

his eyes widened and he looked to you for help, “uhm, i don’t-“ he muttered the rest of the words, “i don’t know what i like.” before turning back to the register. “same as her, please.”

you payed and went to sit down and chan lightly shoved you for laughing at him.

“i got nervous. i didn’t have time to think and i don’t remember what i used to get.”

you laughed, “ghosts are supposed to be scary, not cute nervous wrecks.”

he pouted but didn’t have time to reply as the barista called your name to pick up the drinks. you went to stand to grab them, but chan was up and nearly at the counter before you could even fully stand.

he couldn’t remember what kind of coffee he liked but he still remembered how to be a gentleman, interesting.

you brought the cup to your lips as you watched him take a drink of his own, smiling when he hummed pleasantly at the taste. good thing you ordered something he liked for him to copy off of you.

weeks went by with you living with chan and it stopped feeling weird after a while and started feeling normal. you didn’t know if it was the move of houses or the boy in the house that made you feel safer here than your last home, but it was something.

you’d learned a lot about him in the time you’d spent together. you learned that he was from australia, which you could tell by his accent, and that he died in a car accident. he didn’t want to talk specifics, and you didn’t press it.

you also learned just how charming he was. only a few days into knowing him, he began flirting and making subtly hints towards you. you laughed it off, he was just a playful guy, but that didn’t stop your heart from racing every time he reached for your hand or called you baby.

you knew it was an issue for you to develop feelings for him, not only had you known him for so short of a time but he wasn’t even human. still, you couldn’t deny the butterflies that danced in your stomach when you heard his laugh.

sometimes you thought that maybe, just maybe, the way he acted meant he felt the butterflies too.

like the moments he pulled you close into his side while watching a movie.

“if you’re cold i can get more blankets.” you spoke up at him, face resting against his chest.

“i don’t get cold. i just wanted to hold you.”

or the first time he held your hand.

he was walking you to class as he always did and suddenly you felt his hand grab yours.

“it’s crowded and i don’t want to get lost.” he said, but you knew that was bogus. he would always know where you were so long as you had his necklace on.

still, you let him hold your hand the whole way to school and you continued to let him hold your hand on every walk and any other time he felt inclined to do so.

you were walking hand in hand back from your university when the problems first started.

some boy you didn’t recognize walked right up to you and chan, and you knew immediately that he was no good. you couldn’t pinpoint it, but something about him put you on edge.

that was the first time chan made you take off his necklace.

he turned to you as the man approached, “y/n, give me the necklace.”

you frowned, fingers flying up to fiddle with the jewel at the end, “what?”

“take it off and give it to me and go home. i’ll meet you there.”

you did as he said because between the uncomfortable feeling revolving around the man approaching you and the way chan had never used that tone with you made you panic and you really didn’t know what to do other than to listen to his words.

you unclipped the necklace and jogged home, and chan arrived not long after you. he took his place beside you on the couch and moved your hair aside so he could place the necklace back where it belonged.

“who was that?” you asked.

he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you into his side, “doesn’t matter. what matters is you’re safe.”

he leaned down and placed a soft kiss to the top of your head and held you like that until morning.

the one time freaked you out enough, but it kept happening more and more. every single time, chan would say the same thing. “give me the necklace and go home.” and every time you obeyed because every time whoever was walking towards you two scared the shit out of you before they even got within 10 feet of you.

of course it scared you to leave chan alone, too, especially when they came in groups. you figured they had something to do with a ghost thing, why else would they know chan? because of this, you knew it was best to let him deal with it. and he always did, he dealt with it and met you home after a while and held you until you felt better. he always came home and made you feel safe.

until they started coming to your home, too.

you were sitting on your couch watching movies with chan as usual, but you weren’t paying attention. instead, you were focused on his laugh and the way just being around him made you happy.

he reached to you and his fingers grazed your collar bones as he held the gold chan in his hands. he slipped the necklace out from under your shirt so that it was sitting in plain sight before moving his hand to rest on your shoulder, holding you securely against him.

“don’t hide it. i like seeing it on you.”

you smiled up at him, you liked seeing it on yourself too. it reminded you of him.

the soft moment was cut short by a banging at your door. you stood to answer it, but chan grabbed your arm and pulled you to sit back down. he held his hand out and that plus the wave of anxiety that hit you let you know what was happening. you unclipped the necklace and placed it into his hand. he bent down and placed a kiss to your forehead before moving through the house to open the door.

you heard as he opened the door and stepped out, closing it behind him. for the first time, you could kind of hear the interaction between chan and the strange men. you couldn’t make out words, but you knew they were speaking, and it sounded like chan was angry.

that wasn’t what frightened you the most, though. what terrified you was when you heard a loud slam and someone cry out in pain. it wasn’t chan, you thought you’d recognize the voice if it was, but still.

that was all you had to hear before covering your ears tight with your hands and waiting for chan to come back wipe the tears away, to take the anxiety filling your stomach away and make you feel safe again.

it wasn’t long before chan was stepping back into the house and rushing over to you, cradling you in his arms.

“who are they, chan?” you managed to get out between whimpers.

he just held you tighter, “they’re nothing to worry about, i promise. i’ll keep you safe baby, always. no matter what i have to do, i’ll keep you safe.”

you felt his arms grab you as he picked you up and carried you to your bed, crawling in beside you. he hesitated as he secured the necklace back around your neck and let you bury your face in his chest until you fell asleep.

usually, chan would sleep too, just for the sake of sleeping next to you, but that night he didn’t even shut his eyes.

for the first time since chan had began sleeping in the same room as you, he was next to you when you woke up. usually he would be up and making breakfast, but he was still right next to you with his arm around you and his fingers playing with your hair.

“good morning.” you smiled at him.

he did his best to smile back, “good morning angel.”

he sat there for a moment admiring you before sitting up.

“get dressed.” he called to you, “i want to go somewhere.”

you did as he said before meeting him at the front door. it didn’t strike you as odd, chan liked to go out with you often.

“where are we going?”

“just to the park.”

you held your hand out for him to take and you missed the pain that crossed his features as he took the invitation and lead you from your door and onto the street.

he played with your fingers as the two of you walked in comfortable silence, enjoying the morning air and being alone together.

he stopped when he reached the same cherry blossom tree he marveled over the first time you’d taken him out. you laughed as he stared at it for a moment.

he was so pretty.

he turned to you and grabbed you by the elbows, pulling you close to him. you laughed as he did so, not bothering or wanting to try to put space between yourselves.

“you know,” he smiled softly as he spoke down to you, your faces only inches apart, “it’s said that you can feel a ghosts energy.”

you tilted your head in confusion and he continued.

“you can tell if they’re good or if they want to hurt you.” he smiled, “that’s why you weren’t scared of me when we met. you knew i just wanted to protect you.”

you chuckled, “why are you telling me this how?”

“i’ve always wanted to protect you, and i’ll do whatever i can to do that.”

the happiness from before was slowly leaving you and being replace by confusion and fear as you saw his eyes behind to well up.

“why are you saying this?”

“baby, you know i love you, right?”

you nodded, tears of your own filling your eyes as he rested his forehead against yours, “i know. i love you too.”

he smiled at your words, softly closing the gap between you two and connecting his lips to yours. he lingered for a moment before pulling away.

“i’ll do anything to protect you, even if that means losing you.”

you shook your head, “chan, what are you-“

“it’s better this way, baby.”

he reached behind your neck and unhooked the necklace, holding it in his palm. you reached for it back but he held his fist tight.

“even when you forget me, i will always love you, okay?”

“chan, please don’t,” you started to understand what he was planning, “please don’t leave me.”

“it’s dangerous if i stay. they’re drawn to me, and if i’m with you they’ll always come for you, too.”

“i don’t care, i don’t-“

he hushed you, “i know you don’t baby, but i can’t keep putting you in danger because i’m selfish.”

the tears that threatened to fall from your eyes finally did, and he wiped them away with his thumb.

“can you shut your eyes for me?”

you shook your head no but allowed his thumbs to close your eyelids. you felt his lips against your forehead and you squeezed your eyes shut. when you opened them you were in your bedroom. you were overwhelmed by frustration and pain for a moment before you seemed to lose your train of though. why were you crying? and when did you get back to your room? last you remembered, you were grabbing a glass of water from your new kitchen, struggling to remember which cupboard you’d put all your cups in...