#If he would sit in a corner and quietly scam the company out of a salary for a position we DO NOT NEED

[drumlincountry]

[angelictaehyun]

PAIRING: richboy!kang taehyun x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: He’s been a pain in your ass since you began working at the club. He’s arrogant and insanely wealthy, and you’re struggling to simply pay tuition. Needless to say, it’s not quite the match made in heaven… or so it seems. 

WC. 11,200+

GENRE: rich kid au, country club au, e2l au, crack, fluff

WARNINGS: mild language, illegal activity, y/n’s an actual dumbass, and taehyun’s kind of a dick lol

.

You repeatedly tapped your pen against your sticky, worn checkbook, awaiting a response from the refined, old lady sitting comfortably under a patio umbrella. You, on the other hand, felt the scorching heat of the summer sun against your back, making you sweat uncontrollably—you could only hope you didn’t resemble a drenched pig. The woman eyed you, a bit too judgmentally for your liking, before pointing her perfectly manicured nail at the menu in her hand, “I want this pasta, but make it gluten-free. Throw in another iced tea, too… extra lemon, of course!”

You winced at her shrill voice. 

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, all of our pasta is made from flour,” you explained patiently. Her right eye twitched. You were an obstacle in her way of getting what she desired, she was angry. Lovely. However, above all, she was confused, “Just tell the chef to make it without flour, let him know it’s a special request. I don’t see the issue.”

“Ma’am, I’m telling you… there’s no way to make it without flour, we just don’t have the type of noodle you want in house.”

She drummed her hand on the table, absolutely fuming. She glanced at you like you kicked a puppy, it was absolutely infuriating. She grasped for nothing as her brain formulated any response, “This is outrageous! I want to speak with a manager. Now!”

You sighed, “Gladly.”

It was astounding, truly, the lack of self-awareness and consideration some people had... or, didn’t have. You wished, so badly, to tell them off, but you desperately needed the cash. After all, college wouldn’t pay for itself and the bills piling on your coffee table wouldn’t just magically disappear. You swiftly turned around and trudged away, scanning the vast garden for your manager, Yeonjun, but unsurprisingly, he was nowhere to be found. You’d known him long enough to assume he was hiding in the manager’s office, his poor attempt to flee from the overbearing, entitled crowd. How he scammed his way into a managerial position, a position of authority… that was beyond you. 

You were halfway across the floor, pushing past another server when you felt an intense stare land on you. You halted in place, knowing exactly who the gaze belonged to. You glanced at the table stationed in the far corner of the garden, instantly meeting his piercing stare. He eyed you shamelessly, a signature habit of his, before throwing you a smug grin. You weren’t going to kid yourself, he wore the smirk well. 

Too bad he was a pompous ass. 

Kang Taehyun. You hated saying his name, it humanized him and he was anything but human. Rather, he was an evil, irritating demon spawn simply disguising himself as human. And the cherry on top? He was the absolute bane of your existence. 

There was a hint of mischief in his eyes and something else you couldn’t quite pinpoint, but you didn’t necessarily want to. He opened his mouth to call you over, but much to your dismay, decided against it and instead rose from his seat to saunter over to you. You tried fleeing the scene the millisecond he stood up, but the elderly lady directly in front of you shuffled quite slowly, blocking your exit and trapping you in place. You tapped your foot impatiently as he approached you. 

“You look… sweaty,” he observed, chuckling at your less-than-appealing state. Truth be told, though he didn’t like admitting it to himself, he thought you looked beautiful. 

“Taehy—” he forcibly cut you off by landing his slender finger on your lips. You ignored the spark you felt from the small contact. He let his gaze travel to your Cupid’s bow momentarily, a part of him wanting to kiss your frown away. 

“Ah, not Taehyun,” he reminded you smoothly. You considered biting his finger off, but you prided yourself on your outstanding professionalism. Granted, it significantly dwindled every time you spoke to him.

“Gosh, I’m so sorry,” you mumbled monotonously. “Mr. Kang… if you don’t remove your hand from my mouth, I will shove a menu so far up your ass, you’ll choke,” you snapped, a pretty smile adorning your face.

“Oh, Y/N. Your customer service and approachable personality never fail to amaze me,” he stated, drawing his finger away from you. He continued despite the growing, fiery rage in your eyes, “I’d like another fork, mine’s a bit dirty.”

“That’s your problem. I’m not your waitress, I have my own customers to deal with, so if you don’t mind…”

He completely disregarded your subtle plea for him to leave. “For your information, I’d much rather prefer you as a server and not him,” he admitted, throwing a spare glance at his server—Hyunjin, if you were guessing from the blond hair. 

“That’s too bad…” you trailed as you mustered up the fakest sympathetic pout you could. You continued, “Anyways, I really hate to cut this short, but I’d better get going. I’m sure you’ll survive with your fork. You probably won’t get tetanus, but fingers crossed.”

“Yeah, best of luck with Cinderella’s stepmom,” he mumbled, gesturing to your awaiting customer. He flashed you a confident wink before whirling around and returning to his seat. You scoffed, your lips tilting downward into an ugly grimace. The snapping sound from a couple of feet away brought you out of your disgusted daze. The lady you had spoken to was repeatedly snapping her fingers in an attempt to grab your attention. You were met with an expectant gaze when you directed your focus back on her. She was poised, her spine in perfect posture and hands folded properly across her lap; her body language exhibited no sign of emotion until you reached her watchful glare, clearly telling you to hurry along. You inhaled sharply before plastering on a fake smile. You resumed your hunt for Yeonjun, but once again, you felt the weight of a cocky stare land on your back. 

He was challenging you, silently. You knew it. Unfortunately for him, you had no interest in playing his silly, childish game, so you clenched your jaw and walked away. 

· ──────────────────── ·

As odd as it was, you and your best friend had a favorite bench. It sat a block from the country club and in the middle of a hidden, rugged park, but it was your safe space; it’d been your favorite place since you both found it in fourth grade. After every grueling shift, Kai would meet you on the bench with dinner. The food was almost always inedible, but you weren’t there for his cooking, rather his company. He was already perched on the bench, kicking at a pebble beneath his feet. He heard you approach but kept his focus on the fascinating rock.

“God, took you long enough, I’ve been here forever. I started to think you ditched me for one of those rich boys,” he complained. When you didn’t retort with a snarky comeback like you normally would’ve, he turned from his spot and glanced at your disheveled figure, immediately letting out an obnoxious laugh.

You looked like shit.

Your hair was a disaster, the wisps of hair framing your face no longer considered stylish, but rather unkempt and as Kai liked to put it, “homeless-like.” Not only did you look bad, you felt unclean. The sweat behind your knees was quickly becoming uncomfortably sticky and your mascara was rubbing off, making you look like a rabid raccoon. 

Despite all that, you were happy to see Kai, his bubbly personality never failed to cheer you up—but you’d never let him be privy to that. 

You shot him the nastiest glare you could muster, but that proved difficult considering the little energy you had left.

“Aw, Y/N…”

“I’m going to quit, I swear to God. If I have to hear one more soccer mom complain about her salmon being too fishy, I’m going to have to start perfecting my mugshot pose,” you grumbled through clenched teeth. He made a noise of disagreement, “Let’s not throw your ass in jail just yet. Orange makes you look like a traffic cone.”

You shot him an indignant glare, “Thanks.”

“That’s what I’m here for. Anyways, I made us some hamburgers and managed to grab some extra soda cans before leaving home. So bone app the teeth or whatever.”

You snorted. He always brightened your mood, just a simple sentence could lift your sad spirit. You had to give it to him, the burger looked pretty appetizing… but you’d learned that with his cooking, much like anything else, appearances can be quite deceiving. Despite this, you inhaled your burger, ignoring the fact that the meat was undercooked and the mayonnaise was likely expired. You paid no attention to the fact that your soda was lukewarm and flat—you sipped on it regardless. Your mind was elsewhere, easily drowning out whatever Kai was ranting about. 

“... I know you probably had a bad day ‘cause of your boy,” he observed quietly.

You snapped your focus back, “My boy?”

“Yeah, your boy. The one you think is a self-righteous prick, but secretly think is really hot. Hm, what was it… Terry? Tyler? Taeyong?... Oh, I got it. Trash can.”

You scoffed, “Taehyun, most certainly, is not my boy. I can’t stand him. His head is so far up his flat ass, I’m surprised he’s still breathing.”

Kai nodded in feigned understanding. He tilted an eyebrow quizzically before opening his mouth, but you beat him to it.

“And I don’t think he’s cute!” 

“... And I’m Beyoncé.” 

You didn’t respond, too tired to argue with him. Instead, you let out a small noise of disagreement before resting your head on his broad shoulder, contently sipping on your warm soda. He knew how tired you were; everyday he watched you wear yourself down to practically nothing, it hurt him. He leaned his head against your own, placing a hand atop your thigh and squeezing reassuringly. You allowed yourself to relax, breathing in the humid, summer air. You stayed like that until he let out a small laugh. 

“Let’s rob him,” Kai suddenly suggested. He was joking, obviously, but you still perked at the idea. You turned to face him expectantly, straw loosely hanging from your mouth. He visibly retracted, “Jeez, Y/N, I was kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“… I’m not robbing someone.” He threw you a cautious glare before aggressively taking a large bite of his burger and chugging his flat soda. You were losing your mind, he was sure of it. You poked curiously, “So I’m assuming your stance on graffitiing is the same.”

He pressed his lips into a thin line before letting out an exasperated sigh, “Obviously.”

You turned away, sulking, and he couldn’t help but snicker. You were his best friend and had been since second grade, but if he said he didn’t think you were a dumbass, he'd be lying. 

“Come on, it’s time to get you home, you have an early shift tomorrow,” he reminded suddenly, mouth still full. You smacked his arm, disgusted by his lack of basic manners. He opened his mouth to showcase all his unchewed food. 

You gagged. 

“You’re disgusting!” you screeched, shuffling away from him. He chased after you, catching you almost immediately. His long legs made it easy. He effortlessly tossed you over his shoulder, ignoring your squirming, and carried you to his car, “Hush, I know you love me.”

“Gross. Never.”

He slapped the back of your calf and you squeaked, “Kai! Put me down! Now!”

“No, not until you say it. Make it believable, too.”

He wasn’t joking, you knew that. Eleven years of friendship and he was still as shameless as the day you met him. More so, if anything. Yes, his eight-year-old self was quite the charmer. You grumbled monotonously, “Kai, what can I say… you’re the light of my life, my hero, my best friend. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Probably die. I love you, I guess.”

“Too sarcastic, but it’ll do,” he conceded. He set you down and held in a laugh. Your hair looked even worse than before. He slung an arm around your shoulder, “Okay, get in the car. Hurry. I’d rather not listen to you complain about your lack of beauty sleep… again.”

· ──────────────────── ·

You mindlessly typed in a complicated order as Yeonjun watched your gaze drift over to the garden. 

“You’ve pressed that button so much, the console’s probably broken. Cool it,” he reprimanded gently. Your attention snapped back to the screen which was littered with incorrect orders.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what has me so distracted today,” you mumbled sheepishly. He chuckled and gave you a comforting nudge on the shoulder, “I think I know exactly why.”

Your gaze followed his and instantly landed on Taehyun. As much as you hated to admit, he looked good. Great, even. It looked like he’d just walked out of a rager, especially with his tie undone and shirt untucked, which he pulled off beautifully. His hair was slightly disheveled and you suddenly had the strongest urge to run a hand through it. 

Your eyes widened at the sudden thought and you aggressively shoved it to the back of your mind. “I don’t like him!” 

“I never said you did.” he argued, suppressing a mirthful grin. Yeonjun reminded you of Kai, especially with his insistence on your attraction to Taehyun, or as you believed, lack thereof. He continued, “Just a reminder, though. The line between love and hate is so, so thin.”

Rather than responding and saying something that would surely get you fired, you huffed and turned your focus back on the order, unaware of your aggressive punching on the console’s screen. You were already having a rough day, but everyday spent at the country club was considered less-than-stellar. Yeonjun gave you a reassuring smile before sulking off to deal with another whiny, overbearing customer. You unconsciously let your gaze travel back over to Taehyun and was instantly met with a genuine smile, just not one directed to you. He laughed at a joke, oblivious to your longing and thank God, if he caught you staring, you’d never hear the end of it. His smile was just so pretty, you couldn’t help but feel giddy. Sure, you hated him—that’s what you told yourself—but you could appreciate a handsome face. As if on cue, Taehyun turned in your general direction and you quickly scrambled out of sight. As you turned, Hyunjin scrambled by you, the heavy tray resting on his shoulder nearly beheading you. His long, wavy blond hair, which was in a nice, neat half-ponytail at the beginning of his shift, was now splaying in every direction—he was beyond stressed. If the messy hair wasn’t enough, his hooded eyes were getting darker. You approached him as he grabbed a checkbook, “Hyun, you look like a mess.”

“Hey, Y/N! Yeah, I just have a lot of floor to cover, and they’re all extra demanding today,” he explained, short of breath. He groaned as he watched another set of people sit in his section and continued, “God, please cover me. I’ll owe you one. I’m already overwhelmed with my current table number.”

You laughed understandingly, “Of course.”

“You’re the best, it’s table thirty.” He squinted to get a good look, “Oh! I know that customer, he’s a great tipper. You should be just fine.”

You shifted your attention to the table in question, immediately deflating as you saw Taehyun sitting with a friend. You turned around to protest, but Hyunjin was already gone. 

You internally screamed before trudging over to his table, gathering all of your dignity... kissing his arrogant ass wasn’t necessarily on your agenda for today. When Taehyun saw you approach his table, he did little to hide his pleased smirk. You undid your balled fist. 

“Hi. My name is Y/N, I’ll be your server today,” you monotonously stated, an unenthusiastic but convincing smile plastering your face. To any other guest, it would’ve been believable, but Taehyun knew better; your server persona didn’t fool him.

“Y/N. What a pretty name,” his friend observed, a bit too flirtatiously for your liking. Taehyun noticed too, judging from the way he narrowed his eyes and tongued his cheek. And also the way he obviously kicked his friend’s leg under the table. You mustered a sweet smile, hoping to mask your disgust, “Thank you! That’s so… nice. Anyway, what would you like to drink? We got in a new Italian wine, just delivered today.”

“That’s alright, just water.”

“Water.”

Cheap. Especially for a pair of chaebol children. 

“Alright! I’ll be back momentarily,” you informed, smile dropping the instant you turned away. As you trailed back to the kitchen, you heard Taehyun give his friend a hushed reprimanding making you smirk. You passed Yeonjun, noticing he looked as if he was about to lose his sanity. You gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder—for someone so young, he managed well. Of course, he used his handsome face and charm as often as possible; his attractiveness and charisma was dangerous. He managed to grasp the attention of everyone and it aided him greatly. You pressed quizzically, “Jun, you don’t seem good.”

“Says you. You’re lover boy’s server. What a shocking, juicy turn of events. I’m on my toes,” he teased impishly. You stared at him vacantly. Yeonjun continued to poke fun, enjoying the lack of response you gave as you procrastinated to avoid returning to Taehyun’s table, but sadly, there was only so long it could take to fill a glass with water. Yeonjun pouted sympathetically, “Good luck.”

You didn’t need luck. No. To spend a precious hour or more, waiting on a privileged, disgustingly wealthy teenage boy, specifically Kang Taehyun, you needed patience, self-control, and temper management. You reminded yourself of just that as you approached him, placing his water near his plate, “Gentlemen, are you ready to order?”

You jotted down his friend’s order, ignoring the growing complexity as he piled on request after request, no sign of stopping. “... And I need it lukewarm. Not room temperature, but lukewarm.”

You diligently suppressed the eye roll that nearly bubbled up. Honestly, you’d dealt with far worse, Taehyun’s friend didn’t even scratch the surface. 

You had to wonder though, did people like this ever feel shame? 

You faced the cocky redhead, “And for you… Mr. Kang?”

You cringed. He didn’t miss the nearly imperceptible flash of disgust that crossed your expression. He grinned, “Just the lasagna. While you’re at it, I’d like another glass of water.”

“You already have a full glass,” you seethed, glancing at the glass you had just set down. He enjoyed this: testing you, pushing you, slowly dwindling your sanity until you snapped. He wanted to get a reaction from you, anything other than the bored, disinterested expression you gave him every single day. He smiled innocently, “What can I say… I like staying hydrated.”

His amusement was irritating. Unsurprisingly, his torment was based on the stupid, outdated notion that a boy has to show interest by picking on his crush, but you weren’t privy to his inner thought process. You suppressed another eye roll as you turned to grab a pitcher from Hyunjin, the boy sprinting behind you with a full tray. You felt bad for him, at least, until you remembered he pawned Taehyun’s table onto you and your pity became short lived. You filled an empty glass, increasingly aware of Taehyun’s piercing stare. Your emotionless expression would’ve given him no indication as to how nervous you felt if it weren’t for the slight blush that painted your face.  

He smirked victoriously. You hated it.

A breath of relief escaped you as his attention turned to his friend. He leaned back in his seat and lifted a hand to rest behind his head, accidentally smacking the pitcher, causing you to spill the cold water onto his lap. He flinched at the sudden icy contact. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” you gasped, fishing a stray napkin from your apron. Normally, he would’ve brushed it off, considering it was his fault, but he felt pressured under the expectant gaze of his snobbish peer. Plus, he gained the reaction he wanted from you... something other than disgust. He feigned offense as he dramatically pushed his seat back and stood up, easily towering over you, “Next time, try not sucking at your job!”

He immediately regretted his outburst but he showed no sign of remorse, not when he had a reputation to uphold. God forbid, he could actually be a considerate person. 

More importantly, though, he pushed too far this time and there wasn’t much turning back. You winced at his tone, withering back from his harsh statement, though you quickly replaced your hurt with unadulterated rage. Your blood boiled as your vision went red, steam practically fuming from your ears. Your pained expression broke his heart and he nearly dropped his act, but before he could do or process anything, his silk shirt was sticking uncomfortably to his body as ice water seeped through. His slacks were drenched and his designer loafers were completely ruined. He didn’t pay much attention to that, though... not when you were an inch from his face, holding an empty water pitcher over his head.

“I quit,” you lowly hissed. You firmly shoved the pitcher into his hand and scoffed as he stumbled back from the force. All eyes were on you as you stalked off, hastily tossing your apron into the nearest trash can. Yeonjun gave you a quick nod, his subtle way of telling you he was proud. 

He’d get your resignation letter another day.

Taehyun helplessly called after you but it was useless. You were too far gone to care. 

· ──────────────────── ·

You slammed your car door shut, absolutely fuming. You blankly stared at the frog keychain hanging from your rearview mirror. Normally, you would’ve smiled at the small figurine, but in the moment, you wanted to punt it into another timezone. It’s cheeriness pissed you off to no end. You quickly fished your phone out to dial Kai’s number, the line ringing thrice before he picked up, groaning, “I’m trying to sleep.”

His voice seemed muffled, likely from the thirty plushies he insisted on sleeping with. 

“It’s dinner time.”

“It’s called a nap, genius.”

“Alright, well, I just quit my job… and I might have dumped a pitcher of water onto Taehyun’s stupid, privileged ass.”

The line fell silent. You wouldn’t have been surprised had he hung up on you—your tendency to act impulsively drove him up the wall and he was nearing his limit. You patiently awaited his response, likely a reprimanding scold. 

“Y/N, what the fuck.”

“He had it coming, I swear,” you promised. In detail, you explained your biased side of the story, ignoring the obvious judgement emanating from the opposite line. The minute you finished, you spotted Taehyun’s panicked figure run into the full parking lot, frantically searching for you; you ducked behind your steering wheel, praying he didn’t see you. You squeaked, cutting off Kai’s tangent, “Oh my God! Oh my God! He followed me!”

He sighed. “If you dumped ice water on me, I’d be chasing after you too.”

You peeked curiously from your spot, seeing he had yet to find you. The cogs in your mind churned slowly, mixing in with your rage, “What if we graffitied his house?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’m serious, I want to do it! He can’t just get away with humiliating me in front of the entire club, waitstaff, and my manager. And graffitiing isn’t illegal… ish.”

You could practically picture his narrowed gaze, “It’s definitely, most certainly, illegal. Sunshine, I understand your anger, hell, I’d be outraged, but revenge isn’t always the answer. And graffiti isn’t the most… sound idea.”

You crossed your arms defensively, “It’s a genius idea.”

“It really isn’t.”

“I’m going to do it, regardless of if it’s a good idea or not. You’re either in or out.”

Once more, the line fell quiet. His mind churned, concluding there wasn’t a chance in hell you’d follow through—you were simply too chicken. He laughed, “Fine. I’m in.”

“Great! Find his address, I’ll be over soon.”

You hung up and regained your composure. Taehyun spotted your car as you buckled in your seatbelt, making direct eye contact with your enraged figure. You were surprised, he didn’t seem angry, rather regretful. Almost apologetic. 

But you didn’t care. 

You sped off the lot without sparing him a final glance. 

· ──────────────────── ·

“Have faith in me! Finding his address isn’t going to be hard. You know, I’m a tech whiz, it runs in the family.”

You snickered, “Beomgyu getting accepted into the computer science program at his university doesn’t mean you got the tech gene. You’re the worst with technology, you can’t even remember your laptop login half the time.”

He eyed you challengingly, before cracking his knuckles and typing furiously. Only a single minute had passed before he was yelling, “Jackpot! I found it!”

You were thrown for a loop. He was quite technologically inept, he couldn’t even open a browser without some trouble, let alone find an address. You stared at him quizzically, a smidge of doubt crossing your mind. He deflated, avoiding your hard gaze, “Okay… maybe, just maybe, I called Gyu before you arrived and had him help.”

You snorted. “Yeah, that tracks.”

You sighed and tossed yourself back on his plush bed, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars plastered on his ceiling. You laughed quietly, you remembered putting them up there—it was really only a year ago. See, Kai had this whole star-sticker-related schtick or as he liked to put it, “Inability to have them as a child which subsequently caused emotional damage.”

You had just returned from a grueling shift and you were exhausted, weak, and insanely pissed—reason being Taehyun, of course.

It was always Taehyun.

In a frivolous attempt to cheer you up, Kai suggested pasting the stickers onto his ceiling. Honestly, it was more stressful than fun. He constantly wobbled around the bed, nearly dropping you several times as you sat perched on his broad shoulders and stuck them up. It kept you busy though, and thus, kept your mind off of Taehyun. 

It was funny, honestly. For someone that swore they hated him, you sure thought about him a lot. He took residence in your mind and you felt like the landlord trying to evict him. 

Even at that moment, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Of course, you were in denial. You told yourself it was natural to be thinking about him; after all, you were going to destroy his property. There was absolutely no other reason as to why he ran free in your mind… none at all. 

Kai knew you were overthinking. It wasn’t hard to tell, especially since your forehead usually tended to crease in the ugliest manner when you did. He tried reeling you out of your daze, “So, we’re going to commit a crime.”

“Yep.”

“... There’s no turning back.”

“I know. I’m not going to chicken out.”

He couldn’t help but laugh, of course you’d chicken out. You always did. He didn’t see any harm in indulging you with your idiotic plan, so he found the address. No harm, no foul. Right?

· ──────────────────── ·

You anxiously picked at the leather seating beneath you, nearly tearing a hole in the worn fabric. 

“Yo, cool it. Jihyo is already pretty fucked up,” Kai warned. Oh, Jihyo. You still couldn’t believe he named his old, rickety car—let alone after his ex. His car looked as if it had a mile left in it before it ultimately broke down, but you had to put some blind trust in Jihyo. After all, she was your getaway car if everything went south. You’d been sitting in Kai’s passenger seat for half an hour, coming up with nearly every excuse not to proceed with the crime.

“We really don’t have to do this. Not to mention, I don’t want to do this,” he grumbled. 

“Then why are you here?”

Imagine his surprise when you showed up at his door, decked out in all-black, stealthy gear, hope and adrenaline coursing through your body. He truly believed you would’ve backed down by now, and a small part of him hoped you still would, but the odds weren’t looking in his favor. 

“I’m not letting you go to jail! I can’t get through the school year without you, especially now that Jihyo—human Jihyo—is starting to spread her stupid, little personal agenda against me. Like, yeah, I broke up with you and that’s rough, but maybe next time, try not being manipulative… or a cheater,” he rambled. You flashed him a sympathetic smile; he said he was over it but you knew better. You patted his arm comfortingly and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, a flustered, shy smile replacing his pout. 

“Guess what? I think I know exactly what’ll make you feel better,” you whispered sweetly. 

His smile instantly turned down into an exasperated frown, “Mhm, let me guess… robbing the rich boy you have a crush on.”

“I don’t have a crush on him! Why would I like him? He yelled at me in front of the entire club! And we’re not robbing him, we’re simply… graffitiing his house. Tastefully. 

“So you admit, you had a crush on him.”

“No! I’m just saying!”

He pointedly rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the castle-like house across the street, not wanting to have that conversation with you. He mumbled something that sounded an awful lot like idiot but you let it slide, instead choosing to focus on the task at hand. 

“Okay, so the gate code is probably something stupid like his birthday, his mom is probably sentimental like that,” you mumbled to yourself. You tapped your foot anxiously as you tried to formulate a coherent plan. You slowly continued, “The only problem is the crazy amount of security cameras around his house. Like, who needs that many cameras? People are dying.”

“God, I hate you,” Kai grumbled.

You ignored him, “There has to be a blind spot, somewhere a camera won’t cover. Hm…” you studied the perimeter, searching for that camera-free sweet spot. At that moment, you found a tiny patch of grass, hidden under a massive oak tree. 

Bingo. 

You shook Kai’s arm aggressively, “Look! Right there, that’s the spot. That tree has to cover the camera.”

He rested his head against the steering wheel, “Let’s get this over with.”

As you both climbed out of his car, you couldn’t help but feel a bit out of place. The street was littered with fancy, expensive cars while Jihyo looked like she belonged in the dump, making you even angrier. Kai crept over to the sidewalk, insisting on creeping in the shadows like a vigilante. You, on the other hand, struggled to carry your duffel bag full of equipment, constantly getting slowed down by the exceptional weight. That was your fault though, you packed it full of necessary, outstandingly heavy equipment (necessary being a loose term). Alongside the many cans of paint sat a bag of Goldfish, three juice boxes (because Kai is a massive baby), a faulty navigation system, a not-at-all threatening ski mask, and a broken hammer. 

You didn’t remember packing that hammer. 

You settled in front of Taehyun’s gate, hoping your birthday theory was correct. Of course, simply because it was you and your luck was awful, it wasn’t. You began pressing random keys, hoping something would work but it was fruitless. Nothing worked, not even the basic combinations. You huffed, “I guess we’re going to have to climb our way in.”

You mentally prepared yourself as Kai sent a couple of prayers out for good measure. He eyed your duffel bag curiously before opening it, instantly met with a multitude of spray paint in all shades. He narrowed his eyes and scoffed, “Jesus, Y/N! Where the hell did you get all this shit?”

“... Craigslist.”

“Bullshit, you were kicked off Craigslist years ago.”

You winced, insulted by his easy remark—he knew how sensitive you were about that. You kicked a pebble sheepishly, mumbling softly, “Fine, I bought the paint from Soobin…”

His eyes widened comically as his heart practically ripped out of his chest, “Soobin?! Choi Soobin?! You can’t be serious. No, there’s no way you bought from the school drug dealer! He’s a criminal! He probably tried to toss in some of that devil’s lettuce with your purchase, huh? Or worse… crack!”

You rolled your eyes and tossed your head back, he was always so dramatic. “Kai, he’s not a criminal. He’ll occasionally sell an edible or two, but that’s it! He didn’t try to sell me anything. Actually, he gave me a pretty good deal on this stuff.”

“Lovely, a modern-day businessman,” he grumbled sarcastically. 

“Whatever, just help me climb the wall,” you huffed, zipping up your bag before tossing it over the blockade. Hesitantly, he got on one knee, muttering something you couldn’t quite hear—not that you wanted to anyways. You delicately stood on his knee as he pushed on your thighs in an attempt to boost you over. 

Honestly, you struggled. Your weak muscles did little to aid in your quest, but Kai’s strength helped. 

“God, take your sweet time, it’s not like your flat, piece of plywood ass is dangling in front of my face or anything. I’m about to throw up,” he gagged. 

You scoffed, “Yeah, yeah, complain all you want but this is the most action you’ll ever see.”

“... I won’t hesitate to drop you on your face.”

However, before he could follow on his threat, you managed to hoist yourself over the brick wall. You offered a hand to Kai but instead of accepting, he eyed it mockingly, knowing you weren’t strong enough to lift him. He stretched his legs before taking a step back, giving him a running start, and surprising you both when he successfully lifted himself.

You placed your hand over his mouth, “Shh.. whisper. We’re in enemy territory now.”

He licked your palm, nearly making you screech, “Gross!”

He childishly stuck his tongue out. You shook your head and began scrounging the duffel bag for the perfect paint color. Of course, you wanted to create a masterpiece worthy of Kang Taehyun... you even considered tagging it. Kai silently sat on the grass, aimlessly picking at the freshly-cut blades as he watched you happily paint. 

You were pleased to say that in the half an hour you’d been painting, nothing had gone awry... yet.

“The fuck is that supposed to be?” he questioned curiously, leaning closer to inspect the vulgar work. 

“Taehyun,” you said easily.

“Really? ‘Cause it looks like a dick.”

“It’s called symbolism, Kai.” You stepped back to admire your work as if it were hung in the Louvre whilst Kai scrunched his nose, clearly offended by the unpleasant art.

“You know, it’s funny how you have the biggest crush on this dic—” Before he could further elaborate, he was interrupted by an awfully familiar voice. 

“What the hell are you doing on my front lawn?”

You cringed. You’d been caught red-handed. 

Kai turned slowly, surrendering with his hands up. You, however, kept your back turned, considering just going to hell with it and continuing your tasteful artwork. He glanced at you anxiously, silently pleading for you to put down the paint can. 

Only because Kai looked a second away from fainting, you huffed and turned around, mimicking his pose, the only difference being the bored expression plastered on your face. 

Taehyun stood in front of you, his arms crossed and irritation painted all over his body language, but as much as he tried to hide it, there was a glint of amusement behind his eyes. You hated how his obnoxious, stop sign hair managed to look amazing under the glow of the moonlight—it was beyond irritating. Arguably, his entire being was irritating. You held his gaze, silently challenging his presence. Kai, on the other hand, was sweating profusely and dramatically hyperventilating. He clutched onto your shoulder, failing to catch an actual breath, “Oh my God! I feel like my heart is pumping out lukewarm sewer water.”

He placed his hands on his knees as he hunched over and continued, “Please, Taehyun. Please, don’t hit me with your Lamborghini. I’m begging you.”

Taehyung blankly stared at the younger, completely forgetting he was even there. You rubbed your temple and hissed, “Will you shut the fuck up? You’re making this worse.”

“I don’t want to go to jail! My face is too pretty for jail, they’d murder me on sight for being the most gorgeous boy they’ve ever seen. God, please don’t call the cops… I’ll do anything,” Kai shamelessly begged. You were so close to punting him into the Pacific Ocean. Taehyun’s annoyingly gorgeous lips twisted into a smug grin as he directed his attention back on you, “Hm, and what about you, Princess? I don’t see you begging.”

You scoffed, “I’d rather eat Kai’s shoe.”

He simply hummed, “That’s too bad. You know, I have a family friend who’s a cop… I’ll convince him to go easy on you in jail.”

“The wealthy wielding control over the justice system… how unexpected.”

“Oh my God! Y/N’s kidding, she’ll do anything,” Kai blurted quickly, shooting you a death glare. Taehyun’s eyebrow lifted curiously, a satisfied smirk settling comfortably, “Is that true?”

“What the hell do you want?” you questioned hesitantly. 

“A date.”

You briefly considered his words before shoving Kai forward, “Yeah, go nuts. He’s all yours.”

“... With you.”

You threw your head back and let out an inappropriate, hearty laugh. Even Kai let out a small snicker before replacing it with a fake cough, but Taehyun didn’t seem amused. He watched you expectantly, awaiting an answer. 

“So this is the only way Kang Taehyun can score a date… by blackmailing them. You know, that actually makes sense,” you theorized to no one in particular. You simmered in silence for a short moment before Kai cleared his throat, hinting at his obvious discomfort. Taehyun was enjoying this, you just knew it. 

That broken hammer never looked better...

“Fine,” you conceded. You glared at him, biting your tongue to prevent you from going off on his pompous ass. Taehyun’s eyes lit up with hope. 

Kai let out a breath of relief before mumbling an apology and dragging you off the lawn. His grip on you tightened as you turned around one last time to shoot daggers at Taehyun. He stood comfortably in the middle of his manicured lawn, the porch lights behind him highlighting his pleased smirk, yet all you saw was red.

· ──────────────────── ·

Kai splayed across your bed, mindlessly picking at a random throw pillow while you spritzed a hint of perfume on your forearm. His gaze trailed over your figure curiously, “You’re quite dressed up for someone who’d rather sleep in a dumpster than go on this date.”

“Well I’m not about to walk into high society wearing a stained sweatshirt and joggers.”

He snorted, “Right, that’s the only reason.” You smoothed your shirt and gave yourself a once over, feeling quite confident in your choice of clothing. Kai wasn’t blind, he thought you looked nice, but he’d let pigs fly before he told you that. He continued, “You don’t look… that ugly.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing that was the closest you’d ever get to a compliment from him, “Thanks.”

“Do you know where he’s taking you?” 

“Nope.”

If you were being honest, you didn’t care where he took you; you didn’t set any conscious expectations. 

“Oh! Before I forget…” Kai smirked as he dug around his backpack. He tossed you a small, blue bottle of mouthwash. He winked cheekily, “You never know… mayhaps you’ll kiss him.”

You nearly threw up, “I most certainly will not be kissing anyone tonight, especially not his pretentious ass. Besides, you know about my rule.”

He groaned. He definitely knew about your rule, it was all you talked about after getting dumped by your last ex. After your last failed relationship (or four) you created a no-kiss policy for your first three dates. You wanted to make sure your kisses weren’t in vain, and honestly, it was fun just watching them work for it. 

“The rule is dumb,” he reminded. 

“... You’re dumb.”

You were busy dodging a pillow when your doorbell rang, signaling Taehyun’s arrival. You were shocked he didn’t just notify his presence by honking his horn—for a pompous ass such as himself, you wouldn’t have been surprised. 

“It’s time,” you mumbled somberly. 

“He isn’t the Grim Reaper. This is a date, it’s supposed to be a happy thing!” he tried encouraging sweetly as you stalked down the staircase, but to no avail, your mood didn’t lighten in the slightest. 

You aggressively swung open your front door, nearly knocking Kai unconscious. Taehyun dressed simple but pleasant; his expensive, black sweater was expertly tucked into a nice set of slacks and the Cartier bracelet that adorned his wrist, perfectly accentuated his veins. His bright, red hair was styled messily and his cheeks were flushed, beautifully highlighting his angled nose and sharp jawline. Your mouth gaped, just slightly, as you drank him in—while he was always attractive, this specific look had you stunned. He held a single rose against his chest and it only made him look more ethereal, if that was even possible. When you looked up, you instantly noted the hint of panic in his eyes, which made you feel at ease. 

“Taehyun,” you blankly addressed.

“Y/N! You look amazing, so beautiful…” he trailed as he handed you the rose. You grabbed it and immediately shoved it into Kai’s chest.

“Let’s get this over with,” you grumbled, pushing past him and harshly hitting his shoulder.

“... Right.”

“Hey, try not to murder him, I can’t afford bail. I make minimum wage,” Kai reminded, flashing Taehyun a sympathetic smile as the older trailed closely behind you. You were about to open his car door when he came rushing by, insisting on opening it for you. In return, you sent him a nasty glare, “I’m capable of opening my own door.”

“I’m just trying to be a gentleman.”

“A gentleman doesn’t go off on someone in the middle of a public space,” you reminded.”

He sighed. A mere five minutes into the date and he already felt defeated. He wished he could form a proper apology, but it would be futile—you’d just shut him down. So he decided to express his apology in the form of something he knew you’d accept; needless to say, he had a trick or two up his Gucci sleeve. 

You kept your gaze focused on anything but him. Your arms were folded across your chest, the evident frown on your face doing very little to hide your irritation. Despite that, he still thought you looked beautiful… granted, every single time he spoke to you, you wore a frown so this wasn’t new to him. 

“You look so pretty,” he complimented as he slid into the driver’s seat.

“I know.”

Of course he deserved every ounce of your cold, unwelcoming demeanor, but it still hurt. He was flushed but you didn’t notice since you made an obvious effort to scoot as far away from him as possible, practically pressing yourself up against the car door. However, the painful silence quickly overwhelmed you, so you hesitantly threw him a bone, “Where are you taking me?”

“It’s a surprise but I know you’ll like it. It’s my way of apologizing.”

“This better be a hell of an apology.”

“I promise you it is.”

You noticed his sincerity. His usual cockiness was replaced with shyness and a twinge of guilt, and you found it endearing. You stayed quiet for the remainder of the car ride, only a small sound of confusion as he pulled into a half-empty parking lot of a local carnival. A young employee approached the car and gave Taehyun a permitting nod, making you suspicious. He drove past the entrance gate and straight into a private space, parking next to a dinky, old ice cream truck. The space was close to a nearby forest, a bit too secluded for your taste.

“So you’re going to kill me,” you observed, scanning the dark environment around you.

He rolled his eyes. “No.”

“That’s what a murderer would say,” you mumbled.

You were so stubborn, he knew that, yet he still let out an exasperated sigh. He frowned and climbed out of his car, shuffling to your side, only to find you were already halfway out. You didn’t say anything, choosing to send another hard glare his way instead.

He headed in the direction of the carnival—not the forest—and gestured you to follow him. You trailed behind, ignoring the damp mud that stuck to the bottom of your cheap shoes. You felt a bit overdressed, but when you glanced at Taehyun, you felt better. However, the more you thought about it, his outfit likely cost more than your college tuition, putting a slight dent in your ego. You focused your attention on the glowing moon instead of him, and when he turned to look at you, he was in awe. You seemed peaceful, or at least, not as pissed. 

It was nice.

He led you down to the middle of the fair where you saw a crowd gathered around a massive dunk tank. He seemed antsy, constantly shifting his weight and picked at the hem of his costly shirt. He momentarily abandoned your side and walked to the dunk tank operator, speaking briefly before grabbing a bucket filled of unknown stuff. 

When he walked back, you stared curiously at the bucket which was full of heavy baseballs. “This is my apology.”

Vague. 

As if he read your mind, he gently placed his hand on your shoulder and turned you to face the tank, pointing directly at the chair above the pool. “I’m going to be sitting on that chair. Your job is to throw them,” he gestured over to the bullseye, “at the target, until I’m submerged.”

You couldn’t suppress your smile. He was right, this was an apology you’d accept, an apology in the form of embarrassment. Smart boy. 

He didn’t necessarily look forward to ruining his cashmere sweater, but he would’ve done anything to make it up to you, and your bright smile told him he was on the right path. You let out a light laugh, picking up a baseball and tossing it carelessly. 

He spared you a final glance before shuffling off to his fate. He seemed to garner a lot of attention, the crowd had grown significantly larger since you first arrived. You held the ball in your hand as he climbed onto the chair—you were arguably a little too excited to send him into the cold, cold water. He seemed shaky, but you didn’t care. You threw the ball with no hesitation. 

Strike one. You missed by a long shot.

He suppressed a laugh. You shook your body, ridding yourself of any anxiousness before trying once more. 

Strike two. You were closer. Barely.

You had an unlimited amount of attempts, but the longer you failed, the more embarrassed you felt. He now seemed comfortable... prideful, even. Your face was flushed red from humiliation, but you tried to keep it from affecting you as you threw once more, this time, significantly more aggressive. 

Strike three. This was outright shameful.

“C’mon, you can do better than that…” he baited. He couldn’t help but tease, it didn’t matter that you were on a date. The crowd let out a collective laugh. You scoffed indignantly, cracking your neck and back, your stare darkening. You were about to hit the winning shot, he knew it. He loosened his grip on the chair and leaned forward.

“I’m sorry,” he mouthed. 

The longing, heartfelt expression in his eyes had you flustered. You nodded understandingly, reeling in his genuine apology, and flashing him a sympathetic, sincere smile before throwing the baseball straight at the bullseye, sending him (and his expensive outfit) straight into the tank. 

You pumped a fist in the air as the crowd cheered. He emerged from the stale water, completely drenched. He shook hair away from his eyes before climbing from the tank and into a changing room, but not before finding your figure in the crowd. You wore a gentle, soft smile; for the first time, you looked at him with something other than hatred. 

It gave him hope. 

After changing, he appeared by your side as the crowd slowly dispersed, dressed a lot more comfortably. He changed into a pair of fitted (and designer, you just knew it) joggers and a clean, simple sweatshirt, pulled together with a silver chain hanging from his neck. He went from runway to streetwear yet he managed to look absolutely fantastic and it irked you. He seemed expectant yet nervous, constantly shifting his feet and biting his bottom lip. He needed reassurance and suddenly, you weren’t hesitant to provide it. 

After a minute of painful silence, you conceded. “I forgive you.”

A deep sigh of relief escaped him. He’d practically been holding his breath since that day and all of a sudden, this weight had been lifted off his chest. A wave of solace washed over him, “Thank god. I didn’t know what I would’ve done if that didn’t work.”

You giggled softly. He short-circuited for a mere second; being the cause of your melodious laugh had him speechless. It was all new to him. Your laugh was so sweet, soft, and a drastic contrast from the person he was used to. He yearned to hear it again. 

You peered up at him without saying a word.

He coughed awkwardly. “Right, uh, that didn’t take long at all. Let’s get you home, this was a waste of your time, I’m so sorry,” he rambled, turning in the direction of his car. You tilted your head questioningly. The night was still young and you had no interest in going back home. You were pleasantly surprised, all it took was a simple apology for your hidden, buried feelings to surface, though you knew how hard it was for him to apologize. Maybe that’s why you were so easy to forgive. You reached for his sleeve and gently tugged him back, “You asked me out on a date, so let’s do it.”

Going on an actual date was the last thing he expected. His plan for the night was to pick you up, try his best not to offend you more than he already had, and get dunked into some dirty, stale water. Of course he couldn’t refuse, seeing as his heart nearly soared from his chest. He nodded eagerly, “Y-yeah! Yeah! Okay, let’s have a date. Okay, uh, this is a carnival, right? I have to win you a plushie then, that’s just basic, carnival date knowledge. That’s the rule.”

You snorted. “Can’t break the rules then.”

He led you on over to the strength machine, eager to showcase his brawn—he hoped to impress you. His boyish mentality made you laugh, as endearing as it was, you couldn’t help but find it primitive and a bit childish. Nonetheless, you indulged him. He fished change from his wallet and you couldn’t help but notice the shiny, heavy, black card sitting comfortable in his wallet’s compartment; you suppressed an instinctual eye roll. He held the massive hammer in hand, attempting to hide the fact that it slightly weighed him down, despite his muscular build. He flashed you a confident wink before raining the hammer down on the target, sending the marker less than halfway up the pole. You coughed in an attempt to hide your laughter, you didn’t want to embarrass him, he’d already been dunked into a tank of mucky water. 

He stood dumbfounded, “Okay, this is rigged.”

“Mhm, right.”

“Fine, hotshot. Give it a whirl then,” he challenged. You raised an eyebrow cockily, yanking the hammer from his hand. It was simple, all you had to do was send the marker higher than his. You smugly grinned before trying your luck, the marker barely rising an inch. 

He slapped his knee and cackled. You were offended.

“This is rigged,” you mumbled. 

“S’ok, love. There’s plenty of other stuff to do that isn’t rigged,” he encouraged, throwing a side eye at the gamer operator who simply shrugged in return. He slung an arm around your shoulder, choosing not to dwell on the way his heartbeat sped, “Let’s go get you a prize.”

· ──────────────────── ·

For him to win you a singular prize, it took a game of whack-a-mole, a shared slice of pizza, a tuft of cotton candy, a vigorous pep talk, and sprinkle of beginner’s luck. It was a cheap, funky-looking ring, but you wore it with the utmost pride. 

You both talked excessively, really getting to know each other, and with each new detail, he fell harder. Your shy smile, adorable laugh, witty sense of humor… they were all just a bonus. Normally, you weren’t one to fall, if at all, but you found yourself going against your instinct and doing just that. In hindsight, though, it’d been a long time coming. He was hesitant to initiate any sort of skinship, considering you’d forgiven him an hour prior, but you proved opposite after you mindlessly reached for his hand the second you spotted your favorite ride.

“The spinning teacup! That’s a must!” You both felt the spark from the contact, it was unmistakable, but you both chose not to say anything. He let you drag him over, despite his aversion to the particular ride; he just couldn’t say no. 

“Fine, but promise me you won’t spin fast.”

“Pinky promise.”

As the cup turned, albeit at snail pace, he admired the light wind that flowed delicately through your hair. You had a certain aura, he couldn’t help but notice. It was enchanting. The moonlight kissed your skin beautifully, it had him watching in infatuated awe. 

“You’re staring.”

“Pssh, I’m not staring.” You eyed him and he crinkled his nose, “Fine, I was staring. I can’t help it, you’re beautiful.”

He didn’t know where the sudden confidence came from, perhaps it was just the motion sickness, but he didn’t regret it. You turned away from him, clearly flustered, and it made him smile. The ride ended quicker than he expected, but it was a welcomed relief, considering his well-being. The second he stepped from the cup, he fell to the floor. 

“I barely spun the cup! It turned, like, a mile an hour!”

“I’m sensitive! I get sick easily.” He lifted himself off the ground, just slightly, continuing with a corny joke. “Look at me on the floor, I guess some might say… I fell for you.”

You snorted, not at the cheesy line, but the aggressive finger-gun that accompanied it. He tried to wink but failed, immediately hunching over from the queasy feeling in his stomach, “Oh my God, I’m going to die.”

He made an ugly, inhuman noise. 

“Jesus Christ. Are you okay?”

“No, it’s fine, I’m great. I just think it’s my time to go.”

He reminded you a lot of Kai—both of them had an affinity for being overly dramatic.

You rubbed his back soothingly. He felt so embarrassed, but the feeling was overshadowed by the sickly feeling. You continued caressing, making sure to glare at anyone that dared judge him. You crouched down until you were eye level and brushed his hair from his forehead, giving him a small smile. At that moment, he could’ve sworn you were an angel of some sort. He felt better instantly. 

“I’ll be fine, I’ll be fine,” he insisted, waving his hand carelessly, telling you not to worry.

“Let’s just head home. I’ll have Kai pick us up, he’ll definitely do it.” You paused, crinkling your forehead in thought, “Scratch that, he just got his license and ran over a cone yesterday.” 

He stood up slowly, waving his hand once more. “In the recipe for a perfect carnival date, the ferris wheel is a must.”

You didn’t like where he was going with that. 

“You’re going to hurl if we go on that. For real, this time.”

He rested his hand atop his heart. “I won’t! I swear.”

“I don’t know...”

He laced his hand with your own and pulled you to the carnival’s main attraction. He fiddled with the ring on your finger, proudly glancing at it every once in a while.

Just your luck, a slightly younger couple was paired with you on the ferris wheel. The ride operator shoved the four of you into the cramped, tiny compartment, ignoring the silent plea Taehyun sent her way. The other couple sat hesitantly with a noticeable distance between them, awkwardly shifting every now and then. The young men—one blond, one with raven black hair—stayed quiet and you couldn’t help but think they were also on their first date. They often glanced at each other but didn’t talk and Taehyun had to hide his amusement. All four of you simmered in uncomfortable silence for a good portion of the ride. 

Taehyun unconsciously threw an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close as you laid your head on his shoulder. It was a subtle display of affection that made you blush, but he didn’t notice. Out of the corner of his eyes, Taehyun watched the blond boy copy his movement, just significantly clumsier—the poor boy accidentally smacked his boyfriend square on the nose. It took a lot for Taehyun (and you) to suppress an amused laugh.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry,” whispered the blond. His boyfriend let out a small, nervous laugh, “It’s okay.”

The black-haired boy gently rubbed his nose before reaching for his boyfriend’s hand—a simple compromise. The blond avoided eye contact with you and Taehyun, choosing to shift his gaze to the carnival below. The black-haired boy spoke first, “We’re kind of… new to dating.”

The blond cringed, still looking at the fair, before nodding in agreement. You giggled at the obvious tension, quickly comforting, “It’s cute! You two seem like an adorable couple.”

The couple smiled fondly at each other. The blond squeezed his boyfriend’s hand reassuringly and it made you smile. They seemed so in love, you were swooning. The remainder of the ride was silent and the couple chose to get off the ride after the first go-around. The blond meekly nodded his head in Taehyun’s direction and your boy gently returned the gesture with a shy, caring smile. 

As soon as they were out of earshot, you both broke into a fit of laughter, “Oh my God! He was totally copying you, that’s adorable!”

Taehyun gushed, “They both were so flustered! Too cute.”

You both spent the next go-around giggling, conversing about nothing, and sharing sweet, longing gazes. The carnival beneath you slowly began shutting down, each area turning their lighting off one by one. You kept your hand laced with his and while you glanced down the dying fair, he lovingly gazed at you. 

“I guess that’s our cue to leave.” You gestured below. He trained his gaze to the lack of vivid lighting around the carnival and sighed, “Yeah, I guess so.”

He squeezed your hand tighter. You didn’t want to part from him so soon and he shared your exact sentiment. 

· ──────────────────── ·

As Taehyun pulled into your driveway, you instantly spotted Kai’s silhouette lurking in your bedroom window.

“Jesus Christ,” you grumbled.

Kai had spent his night waiting for you to come home, eager to hear your nightmarish tale. He planned to head to his house and simply wait for your inevitable call, but when he left to grab takeout, he found himself straying back to your house. Your mother must’ve let him in, granted he was also gifted a key and he used it regularly. Your mind suddenly short-circuited by the feeling of Taehyun’s hand atop your own. If you noticed his tremble and clamminess, you didn’t mention it. 

He cleared his throat, “Let me walk you to your door.”

You sheepishly nodded, anxious to speak. If yesterday, someone had told you you would be this shy at the end of the night, you would’ve laughed in their face. He rushed to open your door and you let him, much to his surprise, without any snarky remark. The short distance to your front door didn’t stop him from holding your hand, leaving you a giggly, flustered mess.

You could practically feel Kai’s smirk. 

Taehyun stood awkwardly, frequently shifting his weight, while you nervously picked at your fingernail, both waiting for the other to break the silence. He took the first leap of faith, “I had a great time tonight, I hope you did too.”

You were too focused on his calloused thumb tracing soothing circles along the back of your hand, making you lose your train of thought, “Yeah! Yes! So fun!”

You winced at your overly enthusiastic response. The luminous light, hanging haphazardly above you did little to hide your anxiousness. He chuckled softly, glad he wasn’t the only nervous one, “That’s good to hear.”

“I’m sorry you nearly threw up.” You both cringed at the recent memory. He squeezed your hand reassuringly, “Don’t worry. Weirdly, that’s not the worst thing to happen to me on a date.”

You tilted your head curiously, you wished to hear his story. Frankly, you found yourself wishing to hear everything about him, but before anything, you needed to get some stuff off your own chest. “I’m also sorry about other stuff. I have more to apologize than you, even before the incident, I was always so abrasive and mean, and I want to apologize for that. And, I, uh, also kind of broke into your house… so obviously I’m sorry about that too. Not to mention, I thin—” 

He placed his hand on your cheek and caressed softly, making you quiet. “It’s water under the bridge.”

You shyly smiled, looking away from his adoring gaze. He tried mustering up a cheesy line but he found himself losing focus, his eyes constantly straying to your lips; he couldn’t help it, he really wanted to kiss you. He sucked in a deep breath, gathering the courage to just do it, even though he knew you’d likely reject his advance. After all, it was just the first date and you only forgave him three hours ago.

Not to mention, Kai stole your phone to get Taehyun’s number just to inform him of your strict no-kiss policy.

He hesitantly brushed your hair behind your ear before leaning in slowly, his plush, attractive lips easily tempting you. Unfortunately for him, you kept to your rule. You splayed your hand across his chest before pushing him back gently, “Nice try, Romeo.”

He wasn’t surprised, it was a long shot anyways. He’d just regret it if he didn’t try. He nodded understandingly before leaning in once more, this time to place a gentle kiss to your forehead. You couldn’t hide the obvious blush that dusted your cheeks, making him grin. Maybe you weren’t as tough as you liked to seem. 

He felt hopeful.

“So for our next date, I was thinking mini golf,” he said enthusiastically. His eyes sparkled with excitement; he seemed thrilled, you couldn’t help but giggle, “Easy there tiger, I don’t recall ever saying anything about a second date.”

He leaned in to plant a kiss on your cheek, pulling away only slightly to whisper, “I think I’ll be getting another date.”

He was right. He was definitely getting another date… and maybe, just maybe, you’d break your no-kiss rule.

[fallen-gravity]

Sixty Candles

On June 15th, 1972, Stan Pines celebrates his eighteenth birthday in the back seat of his car.

or, how Stan Pines spent his birthday throughout the years.

Notes: Here is my very loose interpretation for Week 4 of @stanuary!The prompt for this week was Future with the subcategory Old, and I decided to play around with the concept of birthdays! This was a lot of fun to explore and I hope you have a ton a of fun reading! :D

AO3

At exactly midnight on June 15th, 1972, Stan Pines celebrates his eighteenth birthday in the backseat of his car.

It’s not ideal, and nothing like how he thought he had it planned from the moment he turned sixteen, but he supposes he should be thanking his lucky stars he’s able to celebrate at all. His Ma, bless her caring heart, must’ve snuck some emergency funds into his duffle bag the moment she saw Pa reaching for it before he kicked Stan to the curb.

Stan supposes that she probably intended for that money to be spent on emergency rations and gas money, but what she doesn’t know probably won’t kill her. He also supposes that he probably should’ve gotten himself a cake, but cakes are messy and he has no means of cleaning it up, so a bottle of whiskey and a pack of cigarettes will have to suffice.

He pops open the bottle with ease, and takes a large swig.

“Happy birthday, y’ asshole” he says to nobody, slamming the bottle down onto his car dashboard with more force than intended. “Hope you’re livin’ it up at home with your fancy expensive pizza and two layer cake you’ll never be able to finish on your own” He leans back against his chair, propping his arms smugly behind his head. “An’ I hope the guilt is eating you alive” he slams his hand down on one of his armrests, and reaches for the bottle on his dashboard for another swig.

Just six months ago- not even a year, just six months ago, Stan and Ford had been talking about what it’d be like to share their first drink together. They’d talked about getting absolutely wasted at the pub down the block, followed by walking to the boardwalk to ride the coaster until it made them both sick.

It wasn’t much, but it was theirs.

Stan chokes, and he isn’t quite sure if it’s the alcohol or his emotions.

“Fuck,” he coughs, and stumbles out of the car for some fresh air. In between his coughs and splutters, he takes a sharp inhale of the cool nighttime air to steady his breathing. He sighs deeply, and pulls out the pack of cigarettes from his ratty coat pocket. 

He lights one up, and leans against his car to lose himself in his thoughts as he wordlessly watches the cigarette smoke dissipate into the starry night sky. Stan gets too distracted by the sight and accidentally burns his first all the way down to his fingertips, and hisses in pain as he stumbles to light a new one.

No matter. He stomps on the burnt remains with his shoe, and grinds his emotions into the ground with them.

 ~~~~~~~

On June 15th, 1978, Stan Pines celebrates his twenty-fourth birthday in prison.

“Pines!” An officer shouts, whacking at the cell door with his baton. “Wake up. You’ve got a visitor”

Stan sits up in the cheap cot, groggily rubbing at his eyes. “Wassat?”

The officer’s keys jingle as he clicks Stan’s cell door open. “You’ve got a visitor. He insisted it was important, so we’re giving you ten minutes to talk.”

Stan’s been to jail enough times that he knows that when someone says something’s important, it really just means that they bribed their way through security so they can talk to Stan before the designated visitor hours.

But who could possibly be willing to risk getting arrested just to talk to him before eleven in the morning? Every name that comes to mind is either on the run, already in jail, or…much worse. Anybody foolish enough to try is either out of their mind, or…someone who genuinely wants to see him.

But…who could possibly want to see him? After everything he’s done, after everyone he’s stolen from, who could possibly be left that trusts him enough to bribe a police officer for his company? The police officer happens to walk Stan by the surveillance room, and he notices his page-a-day calendar is torn to June 15th.

Stan’s heart nearly stops in his chest.

It-It couldn’t be, could it?

Six years of silence, and Ford wants to break it like this? Is this some kind of joke? What kind of idiot does Ford take him for, thinking that now is an appropriate time to make amends? After all the times Stan tried writing, or calling,  or even trying to get a hold of him through Ma, now is the time that Ford finally agreed to reconvening? 

Pah. He had his chance the past five times Stan tried to pass on a happy birthday. He doesn’t care if it’ll land him ten more years in prison, the moment he sees his twin brother’s stupid face he’s spitting in it.

As Stan rounds the corner to the visitation room, though, all of his anger disappears into thin air, and if it weren’t for the officer pushing him along, he’d turn heel and sprint the other way.

“My friend!” Rico cheers with a forced smile on his face. He’s holding a large box in his hand. “It’s so good to see you again!”  He takes a seat at the small table, rhythmically tapping on the box.

Stan swallows hard, but takes a seat across from him. “It’s, uh…” he squirms uncomfortably, unsure if he’s allowed to address him by name. “…good to see you too, buddy. What, uh, what are you doing here?”

Rico laughs heartily. “What, a man cannot visit his best friend on his birthday?” He flips open the box he brought with him, and Stan flinches when he spins it around towards him. To his surprise, it…looks like a perfectly normal birthday cake.

“Would you mind giving us a moment alone?” Rico flashes a grin towards the police guard behind Stan. “I would like to sing my dear childhood friend happy birthday, but I’ve always been very shy about the sound of my voice. I promise I will be quick”.

Childhood friend? 

The officer squints at the birthday cake in the box for a moment. “Fine.” He says. “You get two minutes. And I’m staying right outside the door to prevent anything funny from happening”

“Of course! You have my word,” Rico grins, placing his hand over his heart. The officer says nothing, and for the briefest of moments Stan’s convinced he sees right through Rico’s bullshit and he’ll let Stan slip quietly back into his cell.  But after those brief moments pass, the officer shrugs as he closes the door behind him.

Rico’s fake-plastered grin slips from his face the moment the officer is out of sight.

“Alright, listen here, you walking stain upon the Earth,” Rico slips easily into Spanish. “You think you’re safe behind these bars? You think my boys still won’t burn this place to the ground to collect what you rightfully owe us? You’re gravely mistaken. We have eyes everywhere, in every corner of the globe. And don't you dare even think about running off somewhere else under a new name, Stanley Pines, because we’ll find you, one way or another”

Rico stands from his chair and pushes the cake box towards Stan. “As soon as those guards declare you a free man, we’ll be waiting for you on the outside.” He grips Stan’s shoulder as he heads towards the door. “It really is such a shame. I loved you like a brother. But you know what they say, don’t you?” He places his hand on the door, and glances back towards him. “The good ones always die young”

Before Stan has time to respond, Rico slips his fake smile back on and opens the door. “Happy birthday, my friend,” he says, slipping back into English and speaking loud enough for the officer waiting outside to hear. “I hope you enjoy your cake”

Stan swallows, defensively bringing his hands to his throat, before he carefully inspects the cake in front of him. It looks normal, as far as he’s concerned, just a standard chocolate cake with “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, STAN!” inked across its surface in bright red frosting.

He contemplates. On one hand, he hasn’t had any real food outside of the slop they’ve been feeding him here for the past three months, and he’s never been one to turn away free cake.

On the other, knowing Rico…

Stan shutters. He stands to his feet, takes the cake box, and throws the whole thing into the trash can in the corner of the room.

He’d rather starve to death than risk being poisoned.

~~~~~~

Stan stopped keeping track of his age the day he started going by his brother’s name.

Sure, it wasn’t even close to being the first time he had to live under a new name. You do it enough times and you’re able to come up with an entire life story at the drop of a hat. Stetson Pinefield was from Ohio, born in the fifties in late December. Andrew "Eight Ball" Alcatraz, born in Alabama in mid-May, got his nickname from his troubled childhood that resulted from his dad getting locked up when he was only eight. It was something of a specialty, giving life to people that never truly existed.

But suddenly, all at once, Stan was forced to overtake the life of someone he loved, and it’s like he forgot how to so much as breathe. This wasn’t some sob story he could bullshit to people he’d never see again, or a name he pulled out of his ass to keep him in place just a bit longer. This is his twin brother, someone he spent every moment of his childhood with, yet someone he feels as though he doesn’t know a thing about.

Sure, none of the people in this town can tell the difference between himself and Ford, and for that he’s grateful.  But a man can only pose as his possibly-dead brother for so long before somebody starts getting suspicious.  Ford’s lived in this town for over ten years, he’s bound to have been on good terms with somebody.

Oh well. He’ll burn that bridge when he gets to it. For now, all Stan needs to focus on is scamming enough people out of their wallets so he can pay off the bills and keep working on the portal that swallowed his brother whole, and those seem to be going…well, just about as smoothly as teaching yourself three years-worth of advanced multiverse physics when you never even graduated from high school can go, but at least he’s making process.

Turns out, there’s still one more flaw in Stan’s plan that even he should’ve been able to factor in.

As much of a recluse Ford advertised himself to be to the locals of Gravity Falls, it turns out that he always receives a call from home on his birthday.

The first year Stan spends in Gravity Falls, he debates letting the phone go to voice mail. He has no idea how in or out of character it would be for Ford to answer his phone, nor does he have any idea who could be calling at all.

Eventually, though, he figures it’d probably look even more suspicious if he doesn’t pick up, and Stan isn’t willing to risk anything, even if it means bullshitting his way through a phone call for the rest of the night.

He takes a deep breath, and with a shaky hand he picks up the phone.

“Stanford?” his mother says, and to say he’s overjoyed to hear her voice for the first time in years is a massive understatement.

“Ma?” Stan replies, struggling not to slip into his own voice. “Why are you calling?”

She cackles. “Well hello to you too, birthday boy. I’m starting to think all of that research is getting to your head. Can’t a mother call her son on his birthday?”

Stan blinks. Is it…really June already? “Is that today?”

She laughs again. “See? It is getting to you! Do your poor aging mother a favor and go outside and get some sunshine. It’ll be good for you!” She quips. “Or at the very least, please, take a break and go to bed early tonight, for me”

Stan smiles. “Okay, Ma. I will.”

“Good,” she replies matter-of-factly. “Now, tell me all about what it’s like up there on the West Coast. Is it unbearably hot over there? I can’t seem to find your little town on my map. Must be why it’s so spooky, since you’re the only living soul for miles.” She laughs again. “I’m kidding, dear. I’m sure it’s fantastic. Tell me everything.”

And all at once, it’s like Stan’s a kid again. Stan and his Ma talk on the phone for hours. He figures that Ford must not call very often, so he spews out anything that comes to mind in hopes that she doesn’t see right through him. She buys it, miraculously, and when they hang up at the end of the night Stan promises that he’ll try and call home more often.

It becomes an easy pattern for Stan to slip into as the years go by. Just as long as he calls frequently enough not to raise suspicion, he can always look forward to receiving a call on June 15th every year. Some tiny part of him feels selfish for posing as his brother and lying to his mother for so long, but it’s the most connected he’s felt to any sort of family in years.

Deep down, though, he knows he can’t get too comfortable, and there’s still too many loose ends he needs to tie up before he can let his guard down.

On June 5th, 1987, just before his thirty-third birthday, Stan Pines dies in a fiery car crash.

On June 7th, he just barely misses a call from home as he’s coming up from tinkering with the portal.

“Stanford”, his mother’s voice says, lacking any of the snarky bite it usually contains. “I know that you’re a very busy man with your research, and driving all the way back to New Jersey on such a short notice is…unfair of me to ask of you, but…” She pauses to take a shaky breath, like she’s struggling not to cry. “But something terrible happened to Stanley, and…” she pauses again. “We’re holding a service for him on the fifteenth. I know that things haven’t been great between you two the past few years, and I can’t imagine a funeral would be an ideal way to spend your birthday, but…It was the only date they had available, and it would really mean the world to all of us if you could attend. I’m so sorry you had to find out this way. Call me as soon as you get this, okay? I love you.”

There’s a click, and she’s gone, and Stan contemplates his options.

Would Ford attend his funeral, if things were exactly the way it seemed? Would Ford even consider him worthy of the time? He’d said it himself: I want you to get as far away from me as possible. Would Ford be relieved that he was finally rid of him, like a weight off his shoulders?

Stan doesn’t even realize that he started crying until a tear drop lands on the counter beside the phone. Just how long has Ford been waiting to get rid of him, anyway?

No. Stan shakes those thoughts away. He can’t lose himself in those kinds of thoughts again. Every time he lets those thoughts get to him, bad things happen.

Besides…a funeral for, er, himself, may not be the most ideal way to spend his birthday, but finally being able to spend it at home for the first time in near decades, despite the circumstances, still beats slaving over an indecipherable journal in a dimly lit basement for twelve hours straight.

He takes a deep breath, and dials home.

“Hey, Ma”

~~~~~~~~

Ever since he turned eighteen, Stan found himself unable to celebrate his birthday without a sour taste in his mouth. As a kid, he looked forward to it more than anything. It was the one day a year that Pa would splurge and let him and Ford do whatever they wanted, and having a birthday in mid-June meant that there was only about a week of school left before they were free for the summer.

Most of all, it was about togetherness. Stan and Ford never had that many friends when they were growing up, so their shared birthdays were always about spending time together, because nobody else deserved to come to their party and celebrate with them anyways.

Once he was forced to spend his birthdays on the streets, Stan was starting to think that maybe he didn’t deserve it either.  Even when he did have people to celebrate with, whether that be his cellmates in prison or nameless gamblers in Vegas casinos, everything felt empty, and there isn’t enough cake or alcohol in this world that could’ve filled that void.

Those early summers in Gravity Falls were the worst years of his life. The calls from home were nice, sure, but his stomach flipped with nausea every time his mother called him Stanford. To no fault of her own, she made him feel as though her love was conditional, and that he wasn’t meeting any of the requirements.

He knows, of course, that it’s not true in the least, but Stan just wishes that wake-up call hadn’t come from attending his own funeral. Stan had gone in expecting to have a terrible time, but he really had thought that seeing his mother’s face for the first time in a decade would’ve cushioned that fall.

Turns out that it only made him feel worse, and he’d declared sometime later over a bottle of whiskey that his birthday must be cursed, and that he never wanted to celebrate it again.

~~~~~~~~

On June 15th, 2013, Stan wakes to the sound of a seagull screeching its head off outside his window. He groans, and sits up in bed to look out his window, but all that meets his eye is the vast sea. He looks then to his bedside clock, which reads 8:30am.

Grumbling to himself, Stan kicks off his covers and stands to his feet, because he knows if he tries to go back to sleep now he’ll be out cold until mid-afternoon. He ruffles through his clothing drawer and picks one of Mabel’s hand knit sweaters at random, because the Arctic doesn’t care what time of year it is when it comes to the weather.

Ford is already sitting out on a deck chair with a fishing rod when Stan steps out of his bedroom.

“Morning” Stan says as he approaches so as not to sneak up on his brother and spook him.

“Oh, good morning, Stanley” Ford smiles as Stan takes the seat beside him. “Did I wake you?”

“Unless you’re a screaming bird, then no” Stan rubs at his eyes. “How long you been up?”

Ford shrugs. “About an hour, hour and a half, I think? What time is it?”

Stan raises an eyebrow. “You sure you slept at all, Poindexter?” He holds three fingers mere inches from Ford’s face. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Ford smacks his hand away. “Very funny, Stanley. I’ll have you know that I got a solid four and a half hours of sleep last night”

Stan cackles. “Woah, looks like we got a new record, folks” He stretches his arms in the air. “You make any coffee yet? I’m still not awake enough to deal with the cold”

“Oh,” Ford replies, like the question caught him off guard. He stands to his feet. “I must’ve completely forgotten” he says.

That reply does catch Stan off-guard.  Ford? Forgetting to make coffee? His practical lifeline? There must be something up.

Stan rises from his chair, frowning. “You sure you’re doing okay, Sixer?”

“Of course,” Ford replies, not turning back to look at him. “I’m just…tired, is all”

Okay, Ford knows that Stan can sniff out a lie from hundreds of miles away, so whatever it is that Ford is hiding from him must be really bad, because---

That train of thought leaves his head just as quickly as it had entered it the moment he steps foot into the kitchen. There’s a banner hanging up above the window that reads HAPPY BIRTHDAY, and there are a handful of multicolored balloons scattered across the floor.

And right at the center of their table sits two cupcakes and two steaming cups of coffee.

“It was Mabel’s idea,” Ford finally turns to meet Stan’s eyes, smiling. “She called me last night to try and walk me through her cupcake recipe, but…” he rubs at the back of his head as he takes a seat at the table. “It turns out that baking isn’t quite my forte” He gestures to the seat across from him at the table. “So instead, when we were still docked last night, I snuck off board to hunt down a bakery”

Ford fiddles with the paper wrapper on his cupcake. “I know it’s not much, but…” he raises his cupcake in the air like he was making a toast. “Happy birthday”

Not much?

Not much?

This is winning the lottery compared to all the other birthdays Stan’s suffered through.

He takes the seat across from Ford, and raises his own cupcake to clink it against Ford’s.

“Happy birthday to you too, Poindexter”

[zi-i-think]

Centerpieces

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!reader

Rating: SFW

Word Count: 1,500+

Warnings: Angst, Like one curse word

Request?: Yes @vxidsti1es​

Prompt: Angst

4. Y/n or character sacrificing themselves for the cause

5. “If one of us doesn’t make it-“ “Don’t say that.”

          The fate of the world rested on the shoulders of some of the galaxy's most capable heroes. 

          Five years ago, when half of the universe disappeared, everyone was left wondering “now what”. Everyone was left with a pit in their stomach that was so deep one might wonder if it would reach the entrance to hell.

         But when Scott Lang came back, with an outlandish idea to time travel, there was a spark of that hope people lost so long ago.

         It was risky and in all honesty, terrifying to everyone involved. No matter how heroic or brave or experienced, no one was spared the intrusive thoughts of “what if.”

         And now, the big mission was just a few hours away.

         Steve Rogers, America’s golden boy and the one everyone looks to for inspiration, stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. His hands were pressed on the sink as he leaned on it. He examined the scars on his chest and the recent bruises from a training session. 

         On the surface, his expression was unreadable. Stoic. But the pressure he felt pressing into him was building up and his mind just kept going back to tomorrow. He’d lost so much and couldn’t bear losing any more.

         “Hey, honey can you help me pick out some centerpieces ?” Steve heard from his shared room with his girlfriend. The woman he’s loved for years now and was now intending to marry.

         The man stepped out of the bathroom, seeing his fiancé focused on her laptop. Even when she was just sitting cross-crossed and hunched over on the bed, Steve couldn’t help but admire his darling y/n. The way her hair looked so effortlessly perfect and the way she seemed to glow in the low-lighted room.

         Steve’s lipped curved up slightly in a smile as he approached her and sank into the bed next to her, looking at the selections of vased flowers and candles she had picked out.

         “Don’t you think we should go to bed?” He asked, wrapping his arm around his lover’s shoulder and placing a firm kiss on her cheek. “We have a long day tomorrow.”

         “Yeah, I know. I just wanted to get a few things done. We’re already so behind on wedding arrangements and my mom is on my ass about choosing a centerpiece and…” She paused. Licking her lips and running her hand through her hair, y/n sighed heavily. “I just needed to distract myself from tomorrow.”

         With her confession, Steve just hummed in understanding. Noticing that she had now stopped scrolling through her Pinterest board, he leaned forward and closed the laptop. Y/n made no protest and instead just leaned back into his chest as Steve in turn leaned back to rest on the bed’s headboard.

         The two sat in silence, enjoying each other’s company. And y/n could just melt in his touch. The way he rubbed his thumb on the curve on her shoulder filled them with comfort.

         “What time is it?” Y/n asked quietly. Like if she were to speak any louder, she’d disturb the comforting silence.

         “Almost eleven.” He answered just as quietly. “You wanna go to sleep?”

         “Not yet.” With a soft exhale, y/n snuggled closer to Steve. Just feeling his warm arms around her waist and listening to his rhythmic heartbeat.

         “Y/n, listen,” Steve started, with a somber tone. “If one of us doesn’t make it-“

         “Don’t say that.” Y/n interrupted. She didn’t want to think about what might happen if one of them were gone. If he were gone.

         Here laid the man that she loved so dearly. Who showed her what it meant to be truly seen. He encouraged her in everything, helped her become stronger. Loved her like no man has ever been able to.

         To even consider the possibility broke their heart.

         Steve considered pressing on with his original statement. But then y/n craned their neck to look at him. Her eyes staring right at him. She already knew what he had to say anyway. 

         “Do you still want to choose a centerpiece tonight?” He instead asked.

         Y/n shook their head. “No. We can do that after we bring everyone back.”

         “‘Kay.”

         Steve leaned down, placing a soft and short kiss on her lips. 

         Y/n fell asleep first. Steve just held her in his arms for a little while longer. Taking in every part of her until he too, fell asleep.

         When everyone was planning on bringing the stone back to the present from the past, what no one expected was that Thanos would be able to also come to the present.

         And now, in the midst of the battle, with aching muscles and cuts that stung, all y/n could think about was keeping the people close to her safe. Specifically, Steve.

         “No!” She screamed in worry when the Titan slammed her fiancé to the ground.

         Scamming to her feet, her heart pulled her towards her love, but she stopped herself from going too far. Thanos had thrown Carol to the side, leaving the gauntlet all to him. 

         Y/n was too far to stop him from putting it on, but she ran at him. Just before he could snap his fingers, y/n jumped in, grabbing his hand and holding it open. 

         Thanks looked at her with surprise, his eyebrows tightly furrowed together and a grimace on his lips. And while y/n was focusing and of her super strength on holding his hand open, she also looked up at him with a determined glare.

         Her hand righted around the gauntlet, keeping him from snapping, and jumped up, preparing for a fierce punch.

         And for just a moment, it seemed like she’d get a firm hit. Maybe knock him down. But with Thanos, it was never going to be that simple. Y/n gasped when she realized that he reached for the power stone, yanking it off the gauntlet and clenching it tightly in his fist. The purple glow shined through the cracks of his fist and he swung back before throwing a punch.

         The impact threw y/n back. And she hit the ground with a rough thud. There was a high-pitched ringing in her ears and for a moment, she was sure she had forgotten how to breathe. But not only that, there was something else wrong. A sharp feeling somewhere in her chest, making her breathe heavily and groaning in pain.

         “Oh no.” She said heavily as she began to think of the different things that could mean. The lack of oxygen she felt she was getting. The sudden fatigue. The… the warm liquid that she was coughing up. Y/n wiped the corner of her mouth with a shaky hand.

         Blood.

         “Y/n?” She looked to her side, seeing Steve approaching her slowly with heavy steps. His blue eyes scanned the still state she was in and he sprinted the few feet towards her. “Y/n!” He then shouted.

         Things were beginning to blur together for y/n. Her vision, her hearing was starting to go in and out. And the next thing she knew, Steve was picking her off the ground, holding her up with one arm and the other wiping the blood from her mouth.

         “No.” He said under his breath in distress.

         “Steve…”

         “Let’s get you to the hospital. You’re going to be fine. Okay?” He insisted, however, it felt more like he was reassuring himself more than her.

         “Steve.” She said again before coughing again. The blonde man froze, terrified that he would hurt her more. “Honey, my rib. I- I think it broke and punctured my rib.” She coughed again, more blood spewing out from her mouth. “It’s bad, Steve.”

         “But, we can fix, you. We have access to the best scientists and doctor, you’re gonna be-”

         “You’re in denial.” Y/n croaked out. A thick silence filled the air. Tears began to fill Steve’s eyes and he looked down at the woman he loves. Y/n reached up, unclasping the man’s helmet and slipping it off before letting it fall to the ground.

         “You can’t be... This isn’t...” He tried to formulate some sentence, something to say. But he wasn’t thinking about sentences or last words. He was just thinking about Y/n and how she was slipping away from him.

         The woman’s hand reached up, caressing Steve’s cheek with whatever energy she had left. He placed his hand over her’s kissing her wrist softly.

         “I love you.” She whispered.

         Steve nodded in response, choking on his words. “I love you more.” He whispered back.

         Y/n smiled lightly, the blood continuing to fill her body in the wrong places. Until finally, it became too much. 

Steve felt her hand go limp as he still held it. And then he saw her smile fade and her eyes become dull.

         “No.” His voice cracked and Steve broke down into tears. His head relaxed and he brought her limp body up to cradle it. “We didn’t even get to pick out the centerpieces.”

[jane-fucking-seymour]

Turning Things Around Was Easy Because Of You

“Thank you for your time, Katherine.”

Kat coughs as she moved to get out of the chair. It had been only a week since she came back to life, and only two days since she had gotten out of the hospital due to the pneumonia that had unexpectedly come with it, wandering the streets during a thunderstorm and collapsing due to a panic attack in the street. She still didn’t feel great, but she was taking the medicine and trying to stay as warm and as dry as she could.

When the six ex-wives had all met in that chapel - the one that Jane Seymour had been buried in - she had thought that maybe they could get along. But when she woke up in the hospital, Kat only saw Bessie. And when she was released, Anna and her had parted ways.

It was rough; she had been staying in a park, hidden in a corner of it that she observed had not a lot of traffic. She had stolen a blanket from the hospital and kept her old clothes in a bag which served as a pillow - Bessie had given her new clothes while in the hospital - so she had the bare necessities, she figured. She could survive.

It was rough going. She still had a fever, her cough wasn’t going away and Kat was sure she would have to go back to the hospital a few days from now. Still, the warm bed and free food was something she was looking forward to.

“Call me if you need anything,” was what Anna had said, but Kat just... she just didn’t feel like she could. She didn’t want to be a bother. To her knowledge, everyone else was on their own; surely she could as well?

She’s considering that thought when she accidentally walks into someone. She yelps, falling to the floor and coughing up a storm because of it. She groans, a hand to her head; this well and truly sucked.

“Katherine?”

Kat blinks, looking up. There, an uncertain woman was looking down at her.

“Jane?”

[[MORE]]

Jane gave her a small smile as she kneeled down to meet the fifth queen. “Hello. I didn’t expect you to be here.” She offers Kat a hand. “Getting an interview, too?”

“They wanted me to talk about my experience as queen,” Kat explained, taking the hand and standing up. “Figured it was a good idea, I dunno.”

Jane hums in agreement. “It’s nice that some people care, yeah?” She asks. Then, she looks around. “And between you and me, the money is nice as well.”

“The money?” Kat asks, tilting her head. “You’re getting paid?”

Jane blinks. “You’re not?”

“No-“

“Jane Seymour? We’re ready for you.”

Jane looks over at the men in the room Katherine just left. She turns back to Kat, looks at something - someone? - behind her, then hugs her again.

“I’ll talk to you later, okay? We should keep in touch, all of us.”

Kat nods mutely, watching as Jane disappears through the door.

She’s staring at the door as she hears them start the interview, frowning, until gentle hands suddenly put a nice, warm coat over her shoulders. She startles, looking back, only to find...

“Joan!”

Jane’s lady in waiting, Joan, smiled softly. “Hello, Lady Katherine,” Joan says with a gentle nod. “You’re still recovering from your illness, right? Do you have some place I can send a car to?”

Katherine frowns and gives an address. Joan immediately tilts her head.

“That’s a park.”

“I know.”

“You’re staying there?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Katherine is relieved that Joan doesn’t give her weird looks or anything. She takes out her phone and does something before she looks back at Kat with a smile.

“While we’re waiting, how about you and I sit down over there?” Joan asks, pointing to the nice, warm couch right next to food. “Did you have anything to eat today?”

“A little,” Kat said as she moved over with Joan, “but my stomach doesn’t feel all that great.” When Joan frowns, Kat scrambles to dismiss the concern. “It’s probably just coming back here, to this new world.”

“Lady Jane doesn’t have that issue, and I know Lady Catherine didn’t either.”

“Which Catherine?”

“... we’ll need to sort that out later, I assume. But this time, I meant Aragon.”

Katherine lights up at the name. “Oh, she seems lovely. Parr, as well. And my cousin and Anna, of course. Everyone seems really nice-“ Katherine is cut off by a coughing fit, which she barely is able to stay sitting upright for. Joan puts a gentle hand on the girl’s back and frowns deeper as she watches Kat suffer.

Hadn’t she suffered enough back then, she wonders?

“Here, if you don’t mind, Lady Katherine...” Joan gently pulls her over to her side of the couch. Kat tenses at first, breath hitching, before she gently melts into the embrace. She’s leaning against Joan now, head on the girl’s shoulder, half-laying down.

“We can rest here until your ride arrives,” Joan says gently. “And you can take some food for home.”

Kat smiles and nods. “Thank you, Joan,” she mumbles, eyelids already heavy. Joan just wraps an arm around her and smiles.

Jane Seymour leaves the room about an hour later, smiling gently when she spots her lady with the resting Katherine Howard. Jane had some sort of mental link with Joan, they’ve realized, which led to them being on the same page when they saw the shaking, still-ill Katherine only less than an hour ago.

“How is she doing?” Jane asks gently, leaning down to smooth some hair away from Kat’s face. “She has a slight fever.”

“She’s been resting,” Joan reports, looking down at the girl. “I called Bessie, she said they’d get down here as quickly as she could.” She looks down at Kat. “She said she was living at the park across from our flat.”

“She may not have anywhere to go,” Jane confirmed. “She didn’t get paid for any appearances and I don’t think she has a lady to help,” she pulls the jacket Joan had wrapped around Katherine earlier closer to Kat’s chin. “Poor girl. She’s so young, beheaded at that age... and now she’s alone in this new world.”

They’re silent for a few minutes, letting the girl rest, until two women arrive.

“Thank you, Jane,” Anna says, giving Jane a gentle smile. “For helping us find her.”

Bessie moves over to Joan, checking Katherine over, as Jane moves to speak with the fellow queen.

“She has a slight fever, but that’s normal for recovery,” Jane says. “She’ll need someone warm and dry and, well...” she looked back st Katherine. “I would love to take her in, but I figured you’re the closest with her, so...”

“Of course,” Anna smiles and nods. “We’ll take good care of her.” Anna tilts her head, though, when she sees that Jane is still staring at Katherine, still worried. “... if you’d like, though,” Anna says, “I would be happy to have you visit her? She needs all the friends she can get out here, and I’m sure she’d love the company.”

Jane smiles brightly at that, turning to face Anna. “I... I would love that, actually.”

Anna smiles back. “I’m sure she would as well.”

Katherine mumbles something in her sleep. Something about Henry.

The two queens frown.

“... you should get her home, Anna,” Jane says quietly. “Joan, if you could help Bessie-”

“Of course, my lady,” Joan says softly. Joan hands Kat off to Bessie, who then hurries off to get the child into the car parked just outside he building.

“She’ll be okay, yes?” Jane asks, looking over at Anna.

Anna nods. “We will make sure of it, but maybe come over tonight for dinner?”

Jane smiles again.

“I’d love that.”

And, just like that, Katherine Howard awakens from her dream.

She tilts her head, thinking back to what she just saw.

“Was that... a dream?” Katherine wonders out loud, frowning. “Vision?”

She hears someone hum immediately next to her and looks up to find the still-asleep Jane Seymour, a soft smile forming on her face. Katherine looks curiously as Jane sighs again, curling closer to her daughter. Kat frowns, though, when she hears Jane speak in her sleep:

“Take care of her, Anna.”

Kat gently shakes Jane awake.

Jane blinks, looking around before she registers a weight on her chest (literally, this time). She looks down to find Katherine staring at her.

“Hello, Kat,” Jane says softly, yawning. She stretched slightly. “How are you today?”

“You were sleep talking,” Kat says. “I think it was from back then. From when we first met.”

Jane makes a thoughtful hum. “I had been dreaming about that time I saw you in the interview, about a week after we got back. Remember?”

“Yeah. I was dreaming about it, too, actually.” Katherine shrugged. “I... it wasn’t a great time for me. But it was the start of things getting better.”

“I cannot believe they tried to scam you like that,” Jane huffs. “I’m glad we got you your money. And I’m glad we all banded together to make sure you continued to get compensated for your time.”

“And you got me into Anna’s place,” Kat reminds her. “I probably would have had to stay in the hospital the second time longer if it wasn’t for you and Anna.”

There’s silence.

Then, Jane looks down at Kat.

“Kitty, look at me.”

Kat does, tilting her head curiously.

“Can you promise me,” she holds out her pinky for Kat to see. “That no matter what - at any time, in any place, even if the show is done and we’re miles and miles apart - you always call me if you need help. If you WANT help. At any point in time, whatever you need. I’m here for you, Kat. So are the rest of the queens. We won’t let you go back to then.”

Kat looks at Jane with a smile and makes the pinky promise with a chuckle.

“I promise,” Kat replies. “Though you and I especially won’t be too far from each other ever, you know. You’re stuck with me, Mum.”

Jane smiles and pulls the girl close.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, my love.”

[somaybeimbiased]

Colorful - Webcam AU (pt3) | Taekey

you know those soulmate aus in fanfics where everyone sees black and white until they meet their soulmate and the world bursts into color?

the fbi agent’s world bursts into color when he turns on the webcam to monitor you for the first time

Colorful Part 1 Colorful Part 2

It was an average day for Taemin. Wake up after pressing snooze on his alarm at least 8 times, shower, get ready and head to class by 8. Why would he take a 9 o’clock class in his last semester? He couldn’t tell you either. He was just ready to finish his last two classes in order to quit his crappy telemarketing job and get a real job instead. It was his last semester, and he was ready to get out of Tampa.

Sure, he loved his parents, his friends, and his dogs. But he was still lonely. Living without a soulmate in a world where it is all everyone talks about get so annoying. That’s why he’d taken to ranting about not having a soulmate and researching the possibility of it just being a hoax. He didn’t have a lot of proof, but he was just upset that he was still alone. It’s not that he needed anyone to make him happy, but still, the thought of holding someone’s warm hand and being with someone who was supposed to complete him sounded so nice to him. He was afraid though because he was getting old, and he was very inexperienced. He didn’t want to disappoint, but also he was afraid his soulmate was like going to end up being like 16 or something spooky like that. It would be like dating a child at their age, and he couldn’t do that. No way.

But he adapted, got used to being alone, and he was even thinking about getting dogs or cats to keep him company while he was at home, except he couldn’t really go on proper dates with a dog or cat, so that's not really what he was looking for.

Taemin yawned as he sat in the back of his classroom, ten minutes left. His critical communications professor, while she was a nice lady, she was just so boring that Taemin had to fight himself to stay awake. Today was particularly bad, his best friend, Jongin had fallen asleep halfway through class. Taemin played around on his phone while Jongin drooled on the desk beside him. The only thing getting him through the day was his excitement to eat some ramen after class with Jongin and two of their other friends, Jimin and Sungwoon. His stomach rumbled as he shifted in his seat. He felt off today, but he’d boiled it down to just being tired and hungry.

Walking out of class into the wind made Taemin feel so awake suddenly. His friends were walking by his side and he had his hands shoved deep inside his pockets. The autumn hair blew his hair everywhere but it made him feel freer. They made their way off of campus and down a long hill to their favorite ramen restaurant. Taemin was so ready to eat double cheese ramen.

The four boys entered the ramen place talking and laughing about how Jimin had fallen asleep during his test in the previous class. Taemin sent the others to sit so he could order for them. It was his turn to buy so he fished his wallet from his backpack before handing it over to Jongin to bring to their spot in the corner of the small shop. Taemin ordered two original ramen, one spicy, and then his double cheese ramen. His friends liked to call him baby cheese because he liked the kraft cheese they put on the ramen here that was usually fed to babies. Taemin paid the 20 dollars and turned on his heel and sat beside his friends.

“Did you hear that Amber finally met her soulmate?” Jongin was saying as Taemin sat down.

“Girl or guy?” Jimin asked, suddenly interested in their friend’s love life.

“Some girl named Luna from what I heard,” Jongin answered, grinning.

Sungwoon whooped and pointed at Jimin, “You owe me ten bucks!”

Jimin huffed and reached into his hoodie pocket to pull out several crumpled bills.

Taemin and Jongin rolled their eyes at their younger friends, “You know, I’m really happy for her, even if it’s all just a big scam.” Taemin muttered, rolling his eyes.

“Awwe our Taemminie is just jealous you haven’t found your soulmate yet” Jimin cooed, pinching Taemin’s cheek. Taemin huffed and waved Jimin’s hand away.

“I’m not jealous, I just don’t think it’s realistic. How can meeting a person once make you see color suddenly??”

Jongin laughed, “Baby Taem, it’s not that simple. It’s chemicals released in the brain when we meet that person that makes us see the color. It’s like it completes us totally.”

“You’re just lucky you have someone to hug you on a bad day.” Taemin signed, leaning back in his seat and staring at the ceiling. His three friends laughed and Jongin hugged Taemin’s side.

“You can always hug me if you’re too lonely! I know Kungsoo won't mind.”

Taemin laughed out loud and reached to put his wallet back in his bag when the buzzer went off, signaling their ramen was ready.

The three others got up and went to get their food, urging Taemin to hurry.

Taemin stood and jogged to catch up with his friends who already had the ramen bowls in their hands and they were moving to the self-service bar to load up on sides and vegetables.

Taemin brushed against a man sitting at the counter as he grabbed his hot bowl of ramen. He turned towards the man quickly and began an apology quietly. A beautiful man turned towards him with a slim fair face and fox-like coffee-colored eyes and his world erupted in color. The walls were blue and the floor was a dark colored wood. Taemin’s body went numb and he felt the bowl of ramen drop from his grasp. A look of confusion spread across his face. Was this is? This man? His soulmate?

The man looked as shocked as he did, but he didn’t seem surprised over all the colors suddenly appearing in the world.

“You… You see the colors too right? I-I’m Tae-”

“Yo Taem! What’s wrong?” Jimin asked, rushing over, staring at the mess on the floor and on Taemin’s once white shoes.

“I… color. Jimin. I see it, my soulmate…” Taemin spoke in fragmented thoughts, unable to take his eyes from this perfect man. The man stood and called the worker to help clean.

Jimin moved Taemin from the mess and pulled the man with him.

“You two go talk and stuff, I’ll tell the others and clean up and stuff.” He said shoving Taemin’s bag into his arms and waving them towards the door.

Taemin nodded numbly and he felt his heart jump as the man gently put a hand on the small of his back to coax Taemin to follow him.

See more work on my Masterlist

[your-rose-highness]

Tell me what is love- ch. 4

Baekhyun's head felt heavy. Lying down on his side of bed, at 3 a.m that night, he suddenly felt his chest close up, making it harder to breathe. His manager had sensed his mood become sombre as he climbed into the car that night, but refrained from saying anything.

Like a bird caged in.

A scene kept replaying in his head and he couldn't do anything to stop it.

*Few weeks ago*

"You shouldn't have been so rude, tae-"

Taeyeon snorted before she spoke, "Oh so now it's my fault! You sound more like her husband rather than mine."

"She came even though she was busy. And, will you please stop taunting me? I told you, she WAS my girlfriend. How many times do i need to tell you? We're a family now so--"

"Baekhyun, i don't want you to meet her.", she spewed, astonishing him.

He looked at her in surprise. "I have one friend-"

"Friend? Really? Look into my eyes and tell me you see that woman as a friend.", Taeyeon said abrasively. "Can you? No. you can't Baekhyun!! Do you take me as a fool?"

"Tae!", he said loudly, "it's different! She has been a major part of my life. Hell, i wouldn't be here if not for her. It's just that- I've missed her.", Baekhyun admitted cornered. "But that's my past... why are you bringing her into this now."

Taeyeon turned to him suddenly and asked, "Do you love me?"

Baekhyun stood silent for a second, before muttering as sincerely as possible, "Yes, i do."

Taeyeon's shoulders relaxed at his words, posture melted and she tried to embrace him, "I don't want us to have troubles, sweetheart. We were already going downhill, but after Sarang, I feel like you're becoming a little more attentive towards me. Out of the blue this HyeHee comes to make things sour again."

Baekhyun hugged her, without saying a word, swallowing his true feelings, possibly to hide them from himself too. Yes, he had Sarang now too. He wanted to at least be a good father to her if nothing else.

Since that day, he hadn't met HyeHee, only occasionally dropping her messages. Lost in his thoughts, he glanced at the crib beside him, watching his daughter peacefully sleep. Drawing a chair, he sat beside her observing her tiny body rise and fall as she softly breathed. It calmed him. Having only heard about the effects of their children on their parents, a small smile played on his lips, before he found himself crying. Surprised by the tear drops that fell on his arm, he let out a chuckle. Sarang shifted by the sound of his voice, bringing his attention back to her. He slept well that night.

*one and half year later*

"Sarang!" Baekhyun's yelled dropping his bags in the hallway while getting off his shoes. His call was immediately met with a scream that had travelled all the way from the first floor to the hallway. He giggled hearing her voice, her scream seemed like a blessing to his ears.

Their nanny Alice, walked down the stairs with the excited Sarang in her arms, who held out her arms towards her daddy.

"Hi, baby. How are you?", Baekhyun mewed, kissing Sarang. "All good Alice?"

"Yes, sir. She's able to support herself for a few seconds now. I guess she'll walk soon.", Alice reported with a smile.

"Oh!! Sarang's getting so big.", he said. "Where's Taeyeon?"

"She went out to a charity event, mostly will be back by 9."

"Okay. thank you, Alice.", he said picking up Sarang in his arms before walking into the kitchen. "Actually, if you want, you can take the day off. Since i'll be with her today."

"Are you sure, sir?"

Baekhyun looked at her, hurt by the question. He was never around much to have taken care of Sarang much. Guilt playing in his eyes, he nodded, determined to do better.

"Yeah Alice. Go home. I'm taking my girl to the park today."

He dressed her and felt happiness travel through his veins. Sarang's laughter put him in a state of bliss that was so high, he forgot about everything.

Walking down the gravel path lined with beautiful cherry blossoms on both sides, holding Sarang in his arms with a mask covering his face, he was hit with another wave of reminiscence.

"Baekhyun. Stop. i'm warning you. Baekhyun!! DON'T CLIMB THAT TREE!!!", HyeHee screamed at Baekhyun, while the passionate young man instinctively decided to get his beloved a bunch of cherry blossoms.

"Will you please trust me? I can do this.", he reassured her.

"When i say the flowers look pretty doesn't mean i want you to climb and get me some."

He plucked a prettily blossomed bunched and jumped handing his girlfriend the flowers proudly.

"Thank you.", HyeHee smiled looking at them.

But Baekhyun wanted to be thanked differently. He bent his head, asking a kiss on his cheek for his effort. HyeHee had kissed him on his lips instead astonishing him.

Sarang distracted him by trying to pull off his mask, when they sat on a bench.

"Baekhyun?"

He turned around at someone call his name, finding HyeHee struggling with a huge golden retriever.

"HyeHee!", he called out shocked to have found her when only minutes ago he was thinking about her,

"Hi.. ", he said softly meeting her eyes, after he picked Sarang again, the latter trying to touch the dog's nose.

They awkwardly smiled at each other, not knowing what to say next, while the dog tried to ditch HyeHee and run off behind the pretty yellow butterfly that just sat on his head.

"You got a dog?", Baekhyun asked, taking the dog from her, who seemed to be giving her a very hard time.

"No.", She panted, "it's my landlady's. She's usually not this hyperactive. Guess she got too excited to be out of the house.."

"Why are you here in the middle of the day walking your land lady's dog?", Baekhyun extended the reigns, letting the dog wander a bit more, smelling things.

"....oh.. I'm between jobs. My last company got shut down. They said something about some scam... i don't know... anyway, so yeah, I'm jobless right now.", She nervously chuckled.

"I can actually see if I can get you one at SM if you want..", he wondered, hoping she'll say yes.

Her eyes sparkled in response, "Really!? You can do that?! Thank you baeekkk!", She screamed, hugging him unable to resist happiness.

It was just an instant, but Baekhyun felt different. A whiff of her hair, the feeling of her skin and just her being within such close proximity, it drove him to a point where it felt like the time had stopped. She pulled away seconds later, a lifetime later for him, only to realise that she probably made a mistake. Observing it all, Sarang sat perplexed, staring at her father, before she mewed to get his attention.

"Oh. Sarang, this is my best friend...", he paused, glancing at HyeHee.

"Hi baby.. She's SO cute. Sad i never got a chance to play with her."

"You can now.", he gently smiled, unable to say anything more.

They walked a little, later sitting at a bench close by when Sarang insisted to touch the dog.

"How are you?", HyeHee cautiously asked. "I've been better.", he replied with a sigh. She didn't prod him further, afraid that she might cross a line that wasn't supposed to be crossed. "Coffee? There's a cafe close by.", He suggested gleefully, and she agreed. "But the dog?" "Let's drop her back at your place and go?" "Baekhyun, can I go there in these clothes?", She wondered, looking down on her sweat shirt and pants. Baekhyun on the other hand had on, what seemed an expensive t-shirt and track pants. "Don't worry they'll still give you coffee if you aren't dress to kill. Besides, you look great.", He teased. Sarang gladly sat with HyeHee, playing with her hands while Baekhyun drove back to her apartment. "What's her name, appa?", The curious Sarang asked after Hyehee left with the dog and Baekhyun waited in his car downstairs. "She's appa's best friend. HyeHee. Song Hye hee.", He informed, combing his daughter's hair back as she listened. "She's small and pretty like my Yuji." "Like your play doll? Hahaha. That's quite a comparison, Sarang. Why don't you tell that to her when she's back?" Hye hee stumbled into the car right that moment, quickly having changed to jeans and a t-shirt. Baekhyun shook his head with a smile playing on his lips. "Don't give me that look. You're very well dressed. I was threatened." "and that's what you decided to wear?", he chuckled. Hye Hee's jaw dropped and stared at him with disgust. "So mean..", she whispered quietly, which made him chuckle more. "You look like my Yuji.", Sarang said, demanding Hye hee's attention while Baekhyun looked at the both of them with adoration. Something about this scenario gave him so much satisfaction. ".... I did see. You tore open your shirt..." "I didn't 'tear' anything. It was supposed to be that way.", He defended. "Pfft. Please. You were scanning if all the girls were looking at you or no." "Yeah I made them for them to see." "Freak.", She snorted. Baekhyun smiled and threw his head back in distrust. He would never be able to win with her. Sitting at the cafe's very private cabins where celebs frequently came for getaways and spend an evening away from the hustle bustle of their daily lives and be normal for a few hours, Hye Hee and Baekhyun spent the evening laughing and talking about various things earning glances from the staff working there.

".... hahaha, really now? That's what you're going to tell me? Hold on, Sarang is going inside the kitchen. Sarang! Baby girl! Don't go in there. Come here.", Baekhyun called out after catching his daughter in the most adorable manner, making Hye Hee feel warm. He's a father. A good father at that. As much as she'd love being with him, she still saw a look of terror in his eyes. A terror that was so evident that he had no idea what he was doing, sinking minutely in his own despair. Because of her. They loved each other, but sometimes some turns force us to go down a path we would dread, but can never retrace.

Buying a tiny strawberry cupcake for Sarang, Baekhyun headed back to his seat, joy sprouting on his face.

"Someone's getting really naughty..", Baekhyun said tickling Sarang, while she giggled uncontrollably.

"Baekhyun..."

"Yeah?", Baekhyun sensed something after he met her eyes. It was always astonishing when they understood the other just by their tone.

"You have to live. You're only pretending. Sarang and Taeyeon, both need you. And, you've chosen them. It's going to be a long life. I know you love Sarang. Try harder Baekhyun. Try to live. Maybe, along the road, you'll find so much happiness. Don't run after something that'll only give you despair. Find your happiness..."

Baekhyun swallowed her every word and only let out a smile looking down at Sarang who played in his lap. Hye Hee studied him careful not to hurt him. He looked away, and Hye hee saw a glint in his eyes. Reaching out to hold his hand placed on the table, she comforted him.

"Are you telling me not to see you again?", He questioned suddenly, his eyes red.

Hye hee gulped nervously, "No. I didn't mean that. But if that helps, do it..."

He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. A tiny teardrop trickled down his face and caught Sarang's attention.

"Appa.. ", she softly murmured.

"I can't not see you, Hye Hee. That's it. No matter how much you try to push me away, i won't. Not anymore. I've had enough."

Walking to his car, Hye hee stopped mid track.

"Go ahead, I'll take the bus home." she said.

"I can drop you."

"It's really okay. I can go. Go ahead."

"Are you sure?"

Hye nodded.

Suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the urge, he hugged her. His best friend, his first love, she mattered to him in ways she didn't understand.

"I love you.", He whispered.

"I love you too, Byun."

The past nickname made him smile. Hye hee felt her heart wanting to burst into pieces as he let him go, clenched her jaws together to refrain from bursting out into tears, begging him to choose her. But despite it all, this was the right thing to do.

Has he drove away, Hye Hee walked slowly home. Something about today was so exhausting. And she needed the time to just clear her mind. Feeling her chest tighten, she took heavy breaths to feel lighter.

"Oh hey, when did you get back?", Baekhyun called out Taeyeon when he got home.

"A while. Where had you been?", She tiptoed to hug her husband and give him a kiss.

"Sarang and I went to the park.", He mumbled.

Taeyeon took Sarang in for a bath, while Baekhyun restlessly pranced across the hall. Hye Hee's words rang in his head and as much as he hated it, he decided to speak to Taeyeon about it.

Putting Sarang to bed, Taeyeon made her way to the kitchen where she found her husband making dinner for them already.

"Rest up. I'll finish this quickly.", He added. His behaviour puzzled Taeyeon and she looked at him with curiosity.

Both starving, they ate in silence, eyes on the TV. Baekhyun notices that her hand is inches away from him, somehow cannot bring himself to hold it.

"Baekhyun."

Taeyeon was looking at him while he was contemplating holding her hand.

"Huh?"

"Do you want to say something?"

"....yeah.", he quietly said.

"What's wrong?"

"Tae... I'm sorry.", He paused gauging her expressions.

She sat still, unable to come to a conclusion. Baekhyun explained why he was so distant and that he now wanted to do better. The both of them, talked out a lot of things they had held back previously. Taeyeon cried as he hugged her, obviously having missed him.

The couple went to bed soon, promising to work at their relationship better.

Hye Hee on the other hand, began obsessively drinking with Minseok. Being the type to never discuss her hardships, Minseok quickly texted Jane to come tend to her friend.

Jane knew enough to not attack her friend for answers that night. She took her home, and thanked Minseok for making sure of Hye Hee's safety. Being too tired from an assignment she was working on, before she received a call, Jane quickly finished it and decided to sleep next to her friend for the night.

One post drunken morning, Hye Hee woke up to a huge headache and a mellow tone song coming for the kitchen. She woke up half out of curiosity, though she knew it would be Jane. Jane was on the side kitchen counter, with her phone in her hands, but to her surprise, somebody else was cooking hurriedly in the kitchen.

Baekhyun.

"Baekhyun?", She asked surprised way too much.

Both of them turned to look at her, Baekhyun gleefully staring.

"Hey you! Come sit! I'm almost done.", Baekhyun responded as though this was the most common sight.

[unlicensedlobotomist]

Caged Larks Do Not Sing

Chapter 2- Caller ID

(ao3 link)

Previous chapter ~ Next Chapter

WARNING: Depictions of violence, major character death

Mornings like these were the kind Saihara liked. It was quiet, the sun was warm and his coffee tasted good. It wasn’t rare having a quiet morning like this: most people didn’t come in till around ten or eleven. He had wondered if he should change his hours of nine to five to eleven to seven.

He wanted to say he hated being a detective, but that wasn’t exactly a true statement. He didn’t like his job, he was unhappy more often than not with it. Saihara had always wished he could find the inspiration to love his work, to have a passion for it, but he couldn’t bring himself to do either. He was passionate about the elements of his work. He loved mystery, he loved solving puzzles and putting pieces together.

He hated what those pieces could do to real human lives.

It stressed him out, trying to figure out a way to tell a wife her husband not only had a mistress but also had 3 other marriages, each with their own set of children. Then to tell a young man that the company he invested in was not only fake, but was actually his friend scamming him for millions. Saihara never felt anyone left his office happier than when they came.

Most final meetings ended in screaming. Saihara had learned over the years to not take them as personally as he did in his youth. They aren’t actually mad at you, his therapist had once told him. They’re upset at their own unhappiness. Saihara had made sure to tell himself that whenever someone cut too deep with their words. He’d just let them yell, nodding and saying “I understand how upsetting this is, I can refer you to some of my contacts on how to proceed.” Most of the time, he’d be taken up on the offer, other times he’d be cursed at further for insinuating they couldn't handle this on their own.

Mysteries were so much simpler in books; and solving those mysteries didn't hurt anyone real, and they were fun. His uncle had once suggested that he try writing, and he had, but he fell short on creativity. Not only that, but the action of sitting at his desk and trying to type out a short story just made him think of his father. He decided writing was simply not something he was up to.

So he sat in his office instead. Waiting for a client to call or walk in and disturb the serenity of the room.

Saihara wished someone with a lost cat would walk in once and awhile. His uncle used to have him deal with those cases a lot in middle school, and more often than not he found a very upset cat who had gotten out and had been trying to get back in. His uncle thought those cases were beneath him as a serious detective, but they made Saihara happy.

He also wished that once in a while a friend would walk through the door and invite him out to lunch. That hadn't happened in years, though-- it wasn't that he didn't have friends, but… everyone had lives. Many friends he had made over the years had disappeared with time-- some had moved, while others had just lost contact. It made him sad, but he knew it was inevitable in some sense. People change, friends move on, the world spins.

He remembered a post someone once shared on social media. It had said a study had found people could have 150 friends at a time. Saihara didn't believe that. No one could have more than say… ten, or maybe twenty friends. Saihara had a hard enough time keeping track of five people, two of which were his own aunt and uncle.

Saihara stood from his desk chair, going to the kitchenette in the corner of the office to retrieve another cup of coffee. He had no cases to attend and thus had taken to, more or less, messing around in his office for the day. He had expected at least two calls today-- a divorce lawyer and a high school classmate.

The lawyer, who he periodically sent clients to, had wanted to discuss his recent case. He was nice to chat to, but he rarely saw him outside of his office. Once in awhile, they would go out to dinner as a thank you to Saihara for getting so much evidence. He was a decent man, Saihara would even call him a friend on some occasions, but they didn’t talk often enough to solidify such a relationship.

Then there was his classmate. Every Saturday, he would look forward to the familiar ringtone of his personal cell. They would sometimes only be able to talk for a few minutes, sometimes for a few hours, but it was always an enjoyable time for him. Often times, he had found himself silently listening to the words. The vibrant energy was something Saihara looked forward to, they embellished the most mundane of activities and made them sound exciting that even he couldn’t help but see wonder in the simple acts. He wished he could be closer, and hear everything in person. Phone calls were the best he could do though, and Saihara enjoyed every minute of them.

Saihara had been half way through pouring his coffee when his cell rang through the office. Odd, he thought as he sipped at the lukewarm drink. This is pretty early for a call. He shrugged it off though, figuring maybe his friend was busy later that day and this was the best time to call. He made his way quickly over to desk, retrieving the flip phone from his coat pocket in a practiced fashion and opening it to his ear.

“Akamatsu, how is Berlin-”

“Huh? It’s Kaito. Shuichi, Listen, I… I need your help.”

-----

That Friday night had become a blur, and Momota’s was still reeling over it. He had laid down onto the metal bunk of the cell to try and lessen his headache, both from the approaching hangover and he mess he found himself in. He was still trying to figure out what had occurred.

Momota had stared at Ouma’s body for what seemed like forever. He lie so still underneath the kotatsu, Momota was certain what he was looking at was a wax figure. Carefully, he leaned down into the bloody mess, his pants soaking in the top layer of gore that had yet to dry onto the hardwood.  His mind went blank for a moment. He wasn’t sure what to do. All his astronaut training and he wasn’t sure what to do. He carefully laid his hand onto Ouma’s cheek and…

It still felt warm.

Anger rose in Momota’s chest, glaring with disgust at the body on the floor. “This… This isn’t a funny joke, Kokichi!! You can’t… You ruined this blanket with this cheap shit!!” He received no response to his shouts, which only made him angrier. He began to violently shake Ouma. “What?! Did you fall asleep in the middle of your prank?! Wake up! It’s not funny!!” He lifted him from the floor, holding him him up by the ends of the ugly haori he wore. The once gaudy orange and green had been stained an ugly rust color. He looked him over, wanting to toss him immediately upon the sight.

“You even ruined my slippers! I really liked those!! What the hell is your problem?!” Momota tossed Ouma back onto the floor, which caused a sickening crack to be heard throughout the house. It made Momota stop, looking back down at the Ouma’s body. He… He thought Ouma would at least try to stop himself from hitting the floor so hard. He went back to the ground, carefully looking him over. “Hey, that… That sounded bad, are you okay?” Ouma continued to not respond, and concern had taken the place of anger. He shouldn’t have thrown him down like that, he could have a concussion. “Come on, Kokichi. Get up, okay? I have a first…” His hand came in contact with his cheek again, the warmth was gone. The cold sent a shock wave through Momota’s whole body.

He went to pick him back up, softly shaking him. This… was just a prank. Ouma was pranking him, like he always did. This prank had just… gone too far. “Kokichi, come on. I’m not as mad anymore, wake up.” He set him down on his back, the open flesh more visible now. “I’m going to get the first aid kit, o-okay?” Momota’s voice hitched, he got up and hurried to his kitchen, his slippers leaving bloody prints behind him.

Momota was quick, retrieving his phone from his pocket and dialing emergency services. He held the phone between his shoulder and ear, trying to keep his composure. He rushed the kitchen, not bothering to even turn on the light.

“119, what is your emergency?”

“Hello? My… Ouma, he’s really hurt. I think he was playing a prank on me, and I dropped him. He hit his head, I need paramedics!”

The conversation continued as he searched his cupboard, pulling out the first aid kit in a quick fashion that sent cups and a few other items clattering to the floor. He bent down to pick them up, only to feel wetness. He lifted the wet object to get a better look: it was one of his kitchen knives. It was odd that it was still wet, but he set it back on the counter and hurried back to Ouma. He only half listened to the operator’s instructions on how to try and help, his mind already knowing what to do even while he wasn’t fully there.

Paramedics took what felt like forever to get there. Relief fell over Momota’s features at the sight of them though, but his relief was quickly replaced by confusion. They had both stopped dead at the door frame. Their eyes stayed locked on the the world famous astronaut, leaning over the former Ultimate Supreme Leader in a blood soaked display. Momota shifted uncomfortably and had begun to stand, but had stopped mid rise. Very carefully, the head paramedic pushed the man with her to hurry to the two. She turned away, and quietly spoke into her walkie-talkie.

“I’m going to need police back up, I think this may have been a murder.”

[garrisonsnug]

all are there forever falling // shelby sister

one hundred pounds. 

not a lot. well under the daily turnover. little enough that it could be shrugged off as a night on the turps, arthur’s expensive women. you would even take some of the blame - nick some jewels or something. you’d get a clip over the ear, but it would be worth it when the deal played out and you could proudly take responsibility as the one behind it. to be pulled into polly’s arms as she shakes her head fondly, to have arthur laugh and pour you a drink. to have tommy smile at you again, the way he did before the fighting. 

well worth a hundred pounds. 

you tuck the wad of cash into your bag and close the safe quietly, locking it shut and letting out a long breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding. closing your eyes, you walk the path to the trades council in your memory. a relatively short one, though there would be coppers aplenty. safer to go earlier rather than later, before the unionists all began to show up for their meetings.

when you turn, john is standing in the door, glowering.

the silence between the two of you is thick. you open your mouth, and close it again, wondering how much he’s seen. maybe you can convince him you never opened the safe in the first place. 

‘why on earth,’ he says slowly, ‘do you need a hundred bloody pounds?’ 

you square your jaw at him. ‘hardly your business.’ 

‘i think a hundred fucking pounds out of the family safe is my fucking business, thank you very much,’ he seethes, slamming a hand against the doorframe. 

‘polly’s the family accountant, not you, and we’ve already settled the matter,’ you lie. ‘so if you’d let me get on my way, it’d keep you in her good stead as well as mine.’ 

he crosses the distance between you and wrests your bag out of your hands, taking out the money. 

‘if polly’s so clued in, then maybe she has some answers,’ he says, holding the money aloft. he turns on his heel, and you realise with a pang of fear that he’s heading to the betting shop. 

‘john,’ you plead, hating how much you sound every inch like a baby sister. ‘don’t tell polly just yet, please. it���ll pay off, i promise, and i’ll let you share the credit. for the plan, y’know.’ 

he glances over his shoulder, barking a laugh. ‘you’re nineteen. what do you know about plans?’ 

you remember when you were small, how you and john would play at wrestling in the alleys. ada watching, anxious to get home but more anxious to ensure that neither of you were too badly injured. occasionally, john would twist your arm too hard, or lay a particularly thick one into your ribs, and you wouldn’t be able to stop the tears or the burn in your throat. 

‘come on,’ john would whisper, panicked, already rolling up a shirtsleeve. ‘stop crying - they’ll be able to tell. i’ll let you pinch me - look.’ 

you wonder, almost with a bittersweet smile, when his allegiances shifted. 

that smile is replaced entirely with nausea when you reach the betting shop, where polly and arthur are sitting and smoking while scudboat scratches figures in a corner.

polly smiles at first. ‘what were you two doing in my office? nothing conspiratorial, i hope.’ 

john only looks at you, and she follows his gaze. sees the hot flush of shame in your cheeks. the hundred pounds in john’s fist. rises from her chair. arthur leans forward, stern but also vaguely curious. 

‘scudboat. give us a minute, if you will.’ 

he leaves obediently, and once the doors are shut, polly turns squarely to you. john may be holding the money, but it’s clear who the culprit is. her eyes blaze.

‘right. you’ve got thirty seconds to explain what you planned to do with that money, and by god i’ll know if you’re not telling the truth.’ 

you stare at the floorboards, because it’s easier than meeting her gaze. ‘the railway union,’ you say, firmly. arthur swears under his breath, and polly holds out a finger to quiet him. ‘they need the police to start turning a blind eye. they’re losing too many men when they strike. in return for the protection, we would have a detailed account of every single person and object that enters or leaves this city by rail. not to mention virtual invisibility in every train station surrounding, for us and any cargo.’

polly is quiet for such a long moment that you have to look up at her again. when you meet her eye, she snaps, as if she was only waiting for your gaze. 

‘you fucking idiot. do you think the communists have ever broken a straightforward deal in their lives? do you think they have the power to follow through on those terms? they might have the membership to protect us here, but in manchester? in liverpool? fucking london? and on top of that, you have the gall to exploit my trust, show me exactly how much you value the opportunity to help with the company’s finances -’ 

arthur clears his throat pointedly, and polly quiets, though she doesn’t look happy about it.

‘i’m guessing you were about to walk that money over to the trades council,’ he says. 

‘yes.’

‘do you have any idea how many coppers line the route from here to there? a whole fucking brigade waiting for this exact fucking day - when the blinders and the bolsheviks broker a deal and they can crack down on both. imagine their luck when the one to get caught with the cash is a pretty little thing, not even twenty -’ 

‘will you stop treating me like a child -’

‘you are a fucking child!’ arthur bellows, his chair clattering as he stands. ‘you’ve got a fucking nerve if you think any of us are going to let you walk into a fucking copper’s hands -’

the doors of the betting shop swing open, and standing there is perhaps the last person in the world you’d like to see. 

tommy glances around the room, cigarette burning. cocks an eyebrow. ‘what’s all this, then?’ 

you go to speak, but john beats you to it. ‘she thought that she’d make a little delivery to the bolsheviks,’ he says, gesturing at you with the cash. 

‘christ,’ he says simply. you can tell he’s considering his words carefully as he strolls over to the table and takes a seat at the head of it. ‘did ada have anything to do with this?’

‘no,’ you say. ‘friend of a friend’s one of the young delegates at the railway station. he offered -’ 

‘let me guess. total intelligence from the transit lines, and protection in surrounding stations, in return for a little police bribe?’ 

you stare at him. ‘yes. how did you - ?’ 

‘it’s a fucking scam,’ he says, with something that sounds like a laugh. ‘they’re trying it out in most every city with a big enough bolshevik concentration. not just businesses like us, either,’ he muses, blowing out a stream of smoke. ‘rich families. sometimes the police themselves. all sorts.’

you feel embarrassment crawling hot and red up your neck, into your cheeks. ‘i didn’t know -’

‘of course you fucking didn’t,’ he says, glancing over at polly before turning his eyes to you. ‘so we have two main concerns here. one, that you felt entitled to a hundred pounds of company money for your own selfish endeavours. and two, that you felt secure in your decision to offer yourself up to the police with absolutely no protection -’ 

‘don’t start on that, tommy, arthur’s already been there, and i’m sick of being talked to like i’m either a child or a whore. offer myself up, please. when you decide things on a whim, the entire company’s at your mercy. but when i see a good opportunity, i’m put through the fucking passion of the christ just because i’m a woman -’ 

‘you’re not just a woman. you’re a shelby,’ tommy says. ‘look me in the eye. you’re a shelby. your allegiance is to this family first. always. do you know what that means?’ 

‘things like this get run through the family meetings. i know. i made a mistake, tommy. just - dock my pay or something, and get it over with.’ 

‘it means something else, as well. it means that if there’s ever a situation where you might be in danger, we will fucking know about it. to put yourself in harm’s way without one of us knowing is the biggest betrayal you could make to this family, and that applies to all of us. do you understand?’

not you, you think sullenly. but you nod. 

he ashes his cigarette and gives a sharp nod. ‘good,’ he says. ‘that’s that, then. polly, you’re the one i came here to see. a word, please.’ 

the two of them head to tommy’s office, and john waves the cash at you again. ‘this is going back in the safe,’ he announces, and you just roll your eyes at him as he leaves the room. which leaves arthur. 

‘you never got to finish your dressing down,’ you say dryly, steeling yourself. ‘if you’d like to continue, be my guest.’

he silently reaches across the table, takes the bottle of whiskey sitting there, and pours two glasses. surprised, but thankful, you sit down next to him and take a sip.

‘you know why i shouted at you?’ 

‘because i’m an idiot,’ you say, smiling ruefully. 

he finishes his glass in one swill, looking suddenly as serious as tommy. 

‘sometimes, i remember, when mum found something funny - i mean, really fucking funny - she’d laugh, right, she’d tip her head right back and giggle like a schoolgirl. do you remember? you were probably too small. i’d stand on my fucking head trying to get her to laugh like that. get stuck up trees and kicked by horses and all sorts just trying to make her laugh that laugh. and sometimes, you find something really fucking funny, and you tip your head right back and you laugh. just like her.’ 

you stare at him, stunned, waiting for him to keep speaking - but he’s finished, looking the other way at the midday sun slanting in through the doors. 

‘scudboat,’ he calls. ‘you’re right to keep working, mate.’

scud returns in the doorway, smiling. ‘family business, eh? ten times as complicated as ordinary business.’ 

you nod, faintly, and stand to leave.

[artificialqueens]

The Ballad of Violet and Pearl (Chapter 10 - Final) - Scarlet

A/N - set mostly in the 1950’s, the idea came from Jinkx’s song ‘The Ballad of Johnny and Jack’ and influenced the story. Also influenced by Thelma and Louise. ‘Ballad’ in the 50’s was a term used for a love letter.

Thank you guys so much for coming on this crazy ride with me! Hope you all enjoyed it! I have deliberately made this ending kind of up to the readers interpretation but if anyone is interested in knowing what the ending is in my head please feel free to message me @fortheloveofpearlet. 

TW - some angst, violence, homophobic language character death(s), but fluff too!

Chapter 10 - Final

September 1939 - Florida

The shy blonde sat in the back corner of the room alone on his very first day of school. He didn’t look up from the desk, afraid he might catch someone’s eye. Instead he stared down at the pieces of paper in front of him and kept drawing. He didn’t like to attract attention to himself. He was happy enough on his own, with his drawings.

The outgoing brunette bounded into the room giggling, his long hair flowing behind him on his very first day of school. He looked around the classroom, always ready to make new friends. He spotted the blonde in the corner on his own and his curiosity was piqued. He skipped over to him and sat in the chair next to him. The blonde was so enthralled with his drawings he didn’t even notice he had company.

‘Whatcha drawing?’ The brunette spoke up, startling the other boy a little. He scrambled to hide his drawings, a deep blush spreading on his cheeks.

‘Noth-nothing.’ He stuttered a little.

‘Aw c'mon let me see!’ The brunette smiled at him, trying to grab the paper. The blonde wouldn’t say boo to a goose so he let the other boy take his drawings. The brunette studied them for some time, all the while the blonde felt extremely uneasy. After a little while the brunette looked back at him with a large smile on his face.

‘These are neat!’ He beamed. 'What are they?' 

'New…New York.’ The shy boy stuttered again, his voice quiet. The drawings ranged from the New York skyline, to individual buildings, to Central Park and Times Square.

'Cool! Have you been there?’ The brunette’s eyes lit up in excitement.

'No.’ The blonde shook his head shyly. 'But…my mom’s from there and she shows me…she shows me pictures. She says it’s the greatest place in the world. I want to live there someday.’ He’d become a little animated as he talked about it but he soon retired back into his shell. The brunette was enraptured.

'Wow that’s so cool!’ The brunette looked down at the drawings again. 'What’s this building?’ He pointed at one in particular.

'The Empire State Building. When I live in New York I’m going to go there every day.’ The blonde smiled shyly.

'Maybe I can come with you!’ The brunette beamed excitedly. 

'Maybe.’ The blonde blushed again. 

'I’m Jason by the way.’ The brunette, Jason, put down the drawings and held his hand out to shake the other boys. The other boy tentatively reached out his shaking hand.

'Matthew.' 

Jason shook his hand vigorously before letting it go.

'Well Matthew, how do you wanna be my best friend?’ Jason grinned widely at him. Matt bit his lip shyly and nodded his head a little. There’s nothing in the world I’d rather do. 

————————————

July 1957 - New York

Matt hadn’t spent every day of the last nine months at The Empire State Building; sometimes Pearl went instead of him. He’d held out coming here all these years because he’d always wanted New York to be the place he settled down. He didn’t want to bring danger and violence to this city. But after that night with Jason in Colorado it was the only place he could think to go. Pearl had retired from her old ways but she still came out to peruse New York from time to time, just to shake things up a little. Over the last nine months Matt had gotten his life together. He hadn’t pulled any scams or done any robberies. He was on the straight and narrow now. He had a small apartment in Brooklyn and a job as a graphic designer. The thought that he had a job was still alien to him to be honest. But New York called for it; his new life called for it. Every day after work he would come up to the viewing platform of The Empire State Building and he would sit sketching the skyline for hours until he was kicked out. Sometimes he came as Matt and sometimes he came as Pearl, depending on his mood, who he felt more like. Today was a Matt day. 

He hadn’t see Jason since he’d run away that night. He hadn’t even come back to the motel to get his things. Matt still kept them, Jason and Violet’s belongings, in the suitcase at the back of his closet. Skeletons belonged in closets. He missed both of them a great deal but he knew Jason had done the right thing. Matt’s behaviour that night had been inexcusable, he didn’t blame Jason for finally giving up on him. He blamed himself for a long time but he’d come to the decision a little while ago that he wasn’t going to dwell on it anymore. He couldn’t change the past; what’s done was done. He just had to live with that.

Today for some reason Matt wasn’t drawing the skyline. He didn’t know if he’d gotten bored of it or if it was thoughts of his previous life clouding his memory but the skyline wasn’t what he drew. Instead, looking up at him from the page were two beautiful brunettes. The first one had her hair in victory curls and was pouting her red lips. She wore a floor length gown with a fur wrapped her around her shoulders. The second was a guy who sensible slacks and a white shirt. His long ebony hair was tied back into a neat bun. His large brown eyes felt as though they were staring up at Matt. God he missed those eyes, so much so the drawing was making him feel all kinds of things. In frustration he screwed it up. He stood up to go and toss the drawing in the bin and as he turned around those big brown eyes were staring at him. Matt’s heart skipped several beats as he stared at him. Surely he couldn’t be real? Maybe Matt had just been staring at the drawing too long and now he was imagining things?

'Don’t throw that away! I looked great!’ Jason smiled at him as though he could have been for the last nine months and not as though he’d just appeared out of nowhere. 

'I uhm…how are you here?’ Matt croaked.

'There’s this super invention called an aeroplane. Maybe you’ve heard of it?’ Jason replied sarcastically. Matt rolled his eyes.

'I mean…why? Why are you here?' 

'I don’t suppose you’d believe me if I said this was just a coincidence?’ Jason half-smiled.

'Nope.’ Matt shook his head. Jason took the balled up paper from Matt’s hands and unscrewed it, flattening it out a little.

'I’m keeping this.’ He told Matt. Matt was just staring at him.

'Don’t change the subject. How did you know I’d be here?' 

Jason folded the drawing neatly and put it in his breast pocket. He pulled his cigarettes out and lit one. 

'Do you remember the first time we met?’

'Vaguely.’ Matt frowned. 'What does that have to with anything?’

'You had loads of drawings of New York. You said you wanted to live here one day. And you told me that when you did live here, you’d spend every day at The Empire State Building.’ Jason sucked on the cigarette.

'How do you remember that?’ Matt’s frown deepened. They’d never talked about that again, how had Jason remembered?

'I don’t know.’

'That was almost twenty years ago Jason. I barely remember telling you that.' 

'I remembered because you told me. I remember everything you tell me. Including all the times you called me a whore.’ He bit his lip. 

'I called Violet a whore.’ Matt reminded him. 

'Except that one time you included Jason in that too.’ He sighed, he didn’t want to think about that night. 'Anyway I’m not here to harp on that.’ He dragged on the cigarette while Matt continued to stare at him. 

'Why are you here?’ Matt asked quietly. Jason sighed again and used his free hand to run through his hair. 

'I was mad for a really long time. Like a really long time. I couldn’t stop thinking about that night and how scared of you I was.’ Jason paused to drag on the cigarette once more. 'But one day I woke up and I wasn’t mad anymore. And I wanted you to know I forgive you.’

'You came all this way to tell me that?’ Matt raised his eyebrow. 

'Yeah I guess.’ Jason shrugged dropping the cigarette to the floor and stubbing it out. 

'Well thank you. I’m glad you did.’ Matt half-smiled. Jason looked over Matt’s shoulder briefly, his mind whirring. He hadn’t just come all this way for that. 

'I mean I can hang around for a little while I suppose. You could show me around, take me for coffee or something?’ He shrugged once more as though he couldn’t care less either way. A large smile broke out on Matt’s face. 

'There’s nothing in the world I would rather do.’

————————————

They didn’t go and get coffee. They ended up back at Matt’s apartment on the bed, naked. Matt was straddling Jason and kissing him harder than he’d ever kissed anyone before. It felt like it had been a whole lifetime since they’d been here together and they didn’t want to waste a second. Matt had already opened Jason up and was now rolling the condom over his throbbing cock. Jason wrapped his legs around Matt’s waist as Matt edged his way in. It was soft and passionate and they made love like it could be the first time but like it could also be the last time too. They came together and Matt got rid of the condom and laid down next to Jason. He pulled Jason close and Jason rested his head on Matt’s chest. Matt wrapped his arm tightly around the brunette and placed soft kisses in his hair. Jason was so overwhelmed with emotions he thought he could cry. Matt was never so caring with him afterwards. 

'So, how was Florida?’ Matt asked placing one last kiss on Jason’s head before reaching for a blunt. Jason rolled over onto the pillow so he could look at Matt.

'Same old.’ Jason shrugged. 

'Have you seen Courtney? I mean I’m guessing you haven’t because I’m sure you wouldn’t be alive if you had.’ Matt smirked lighting the blunt.

'No I got lucky. Her grandpa’s sick so she’s been back in Oz looking after him for ages apparently.' 

'Who told you that?’ Matt narrowed his eyes on Jason. Jason bit his lip.

'Naomi.’ He knew saying her name around Matt wasn’t going to go down well. He saw Matt take a few deep breaths and briefly clench his jaw.

'Naomi.’ He spat, as if her name were poison.

'Yeah, I bumped into her.' 

'How is she?’

'You really want to know?’ Jason took the blunt from Matt’s hand and dragged on it.

Matt scratched his bare chest and nodded.

'Kind of.' 

'Well she’s married.’ Jason dragged on the blunt, not really wanting to tell Matt anymore. But he knew there was more.

'And?' 

'And she has a son.' 

Matt felt like his whole world collapsed in that moment. He felt the anger bubbling in his stomach but he tried to control it. If he lost his temper, if he got violent again, he would lose Jason for good. 'He’s two.' 

'She had a son.’ Matt repeated and Jason saw the tears spring to his eyes. 

'Yeah.’

'Did you see him?' 

'Yeah, he was cute. I guess.’ Jason was concerned with how well Matt was taking this. Maybe he’d managed to work on his anger issues while Jason was gone.

'Did you meet her husband?’

'Briefly. We didn’t get introduced, he was in a hurry. Not a bad looking guy, I mean not you but not bad.’ Jason shrugged and handed Matt back the blunt.

'What did he look like?’

'Why does that matter? You’re just torturing yourself.’

'I want to know.’ Matt sniffed back his tears. Jason swallowed and sighed.

'Uhm well I didn’t really get a good look at him. He was a big guy, muscly as heck. Tattooed, bearded, nice smile but also kind of scary looking.’

If Matt thought his world had collapsed before, it had nothing on this. He surprised Jason when he leapt up from the bed. 

'No fucking way.’ He got his boxers on and started pacing. 

'What?’ Jason stood up and put his underwear on too. Matt dragged on the blunt really heavily but Jason took it from his hand and tossed it in the ashtray. The weed wasn’t going to help Matt’s anger.

'She gets to abort my fucking baby but she keeps Boomer’s?’ He yelled ramming his fist into the wall of his bedroom. Jason bit his lip. This wasn’t ending the way it did in Colorado. 

'Boomer?’ He gently touched Matt’s arm. 'Isn’t that the guy that tried to kill you?’

'Yes!’ Matt yelled again. 'That fucking asshole! He runs me out of my hometown and gets my ex-girlfriend pregnant? How is this fair? That should have been my baby! Why does he get to have a kid! Why did she keep it?’ Suddenly Matt started crying. Jason put his arm around Matt’s shoulders and led him back to the bed where they sat on the edge. 

'Matt, you were in high school, you were young and broke. Bringing a baby into the world wouldn’t have worked.’

'But I should have had the choice! She stole that from me.’ He put his head in his hands and he sobbed. Jason held him tightly and stroked his back. He’d never seen Matt like this before.

'I know she did, and that was a horrible thing to do to someone. But you can’t do anything about that now sweetie.’ Jason felt tears in his own eyes. Was Matt ever going to get that life? If he was with Jason kids weren’t an option. Maybe Matt wanted kids more than he wanted Jason? Maybe Jason should at least give Matt the option.

'Matt?’ Jason whispered after Matt’s tears started to subside. 

'Yeah?' 

'This isn’t going to work is it?’

'What do you mean?’

'You and me. This isn’t going to work.’

'Why not?’ Matt pouted his lip.

'Because we’re never going to have a normal life. We can only be together behind closed doors. We can’t go out together unless one of us is in drag. I can’t give you kids.’ Jason let go of Matt and shuffled away from him a little. 

'So what? We just give up? We give up before we ever really had a chance to begin?’ Matt frowned at him.

'Isn’t that for the best?’

'Maybe.’ Matt shrugged. 'But when have we ever done what’s best?’ He cupped Jason’s face. 'This scares me Jason, don’t get me wrong. I never wanted to feel this way about another man but I guess I was just born this way. Of course I would love to get married and have kids but maybe that’s just not in my future. But I know what is.’

'What’s that?’ Jason sniffed again.

'You pumpkin. You’re all the future I need.’ Matt kissed him tenderly and Jason didn’t think he’d ever been happier in his entire life. 

'You want to be with me?’ Jason asked him softly.

'Always have.’ Matt smiled. 'I was just too much of a coward to admit it.’

Jason smiled and kissed Matt again. They fell back to the bed and crawled under the covers. Matt pulled Jason close so his head was on his chest once more. He wrapped his strong arm around Jason. 

'You mean more to me than anything in the entire world.’ Matt whispered into Jason’s hair. Jason’s heart soared. This was all he’d ever wanted. 'It’s going to be hard, I’m not going to lie. But I think it’s worth it. I’ve been miserable without you. And I never want to be without you again.' 

Jason felt tears in his eyes again but this time happy ones. He draped his arm around Matt’s waist and gently kissed his chest. 

'Well you never have to worry about that Matty, because I am never, ever, going anywhere. I belong to you.' 

'Who else would you belong to?’ Matt stroked his cheek and kissed his head. 'You’ll always be mine Jason.' 

————————————

September 1958 - Florida 

Jason was surprised to see Pearl staring in the mirror over the dresser. She slicked her lips with a pink hue, puckered them and smiled at her reflection. She saw Jason looking at her in the mirror but chose to ignore it. She fluffed up her wig and pulled up her padded bra. Jason watched her tuck the gun in the waistband her trousers and pull her shirt down so it was covering it. She finally turned to look at him.

'Get up, we’ve got a long day ahead of us.’ She smiled in that dangerous way Jason knew all too well. 

'Why? What are we doing?' 

She sat down on the bed next to him and stroked his messy hair back from his face. 

'We’re going to Florida.’

'Why?’ Jason frowned. Pearl kissed him gently before standing back up.

'This ends today. No more running, no more hiding.’

'What do you mean?’ Jason’s heart was beating hard in his chest. She turned back to him, danger dancing in her eyes.

'I’m going to kill Boomer Banks.’

That had been several hours ago back in New York and now Pearl and Violet were sat in the Buick outside Boomer and Naomi’s home. Pearl lit a cigarette and if Violet wasn’t mistaken, she was sure her hands were shaking.

'You don’t have to do this you know.’ Violet told her. 

'Yes, I do.’ Pearl didn’t look her, she kept her eyes on the house.

'I know what it’s like to shoot someone Pearl and trust me, that image never leaves you.' 

Pearl turned to look at her.

'If I don’t do this we’ll be running forever. I’m doing this for us. With Boomer gone we can come back here and visit people without having to worry. I’ll kill Boomer and then we’ll kill Violet and Pearl off once and for all. Then we don’t have to worry about coming back, you can see Ru and Katya and Kasha and we don’t need to be scared anymore.’ She cupped Violet’s face gently. 'This is for us pumpkin.’ She gently kissed Violet before she took a final drag on the cigarette and tossed it out the car. She shut off the engine and took a deep breath. 'Let’s do this. Let’s put an end to this once and for all.’

The house was quiet. Really quiet. Maybe too quiet? Pearl had brought a second gun which was tucked away in Violet’s knee high boot. They exchanged a look.

'Maybe no one’s here?’ Violet whispered.

'He has to be here.’ And if he wasn’t Pearl would wait until he returned. She was ending this today no matter what. Pearl crept to the bottom of the staircase and that’s when she heard the noise. She frowned and motioned Violet over to her. The two girls stood at the bottom of the stairs in silence. They heard creaking and soft moans. Violet grimaced.

'Oh good god.’ She whispered. 'They’re having sex.’

'I didn’t think Naomi was supposed to be here?’ Pearl’s face paled a little. 

'Well if she is maybe you can finally give her a piece of your mind for what she did to you.’

'What about the kid? If they’re both here the kid probably is too?’ Pearl suddenly looked like she’d had a change of heart. Violet took to the stairs.

'We’re ending this. Whatever the cost.’ She took a few deep breaths as she tiptoed upstairs, Pearl following somewhat reluctantly behind her. They reached the bedroom door and the moans were louder now. Pearl was frowning.

'What?’ Violet whispered seeing the look on her face.

'I don’t think that’s Naomi.’

'How do you know?’

Pearl pulled a face.

'How many times do you think I’ve heard her moan like that?’ Pearl rolled her eyes. 'That’s not her.’

Violet frowned now and leant closer to the door. Her face fell.

'Oh my god.’ She turned back to Pearl. 'I think I know who it is.’ Before Pearl could respond Violet swung open the door. Her suspicions were confirmed when she saw the long blonde hair attached to the woman that was bouncing up and down on Boomer’s dick. 

'Courtney?’ Pearl couldn’t hold back her gasp. Courtney turned to look over her shoulder wide eyed in shock seeing the two girls behind her. She immediately got off Boomer and fell to the bed covering her naked body with the sheet.

'Who the heck are you? What do you want?’ Her already pale complexion paled further.

'Yeah what the fuck are you doing in my house?’ Boomer slipped his boxers on and stood up from the bed angrily. Violet hated to admit this but she could totally see the appeal of Boomer for both Courtney and Pearl.

'What the fuck are you doing cheating on your wife?’ Pearl spat. She didn’t know why she cared. For the most part she hated Naomi after what she’d done but it enraged her that Boomer was cheating on her. Boomer scrutinised Pearl’s face for a while before the realisation hit him.

'You!’ He yelled. 'You’re that fucking con artist bitch that tried to trick me into bed!' 

Also I’m a man, Pearl rolled her eyes. Clearly Boomer didn’t want people to know that part of the story.

'It’s true I am.’ Pearl smiled at him. 

'I thought you were in Oz?’ Violet suddenly spoke up looking at Courtney. Courtney frowned.

'Do I know you?’ She raised an eyebrow. 

'You should do. We fucked-’

'Not now Vi.’ Pearl hit her in the arm. Boomer’s face was bright red in anger and he was staring right at Pearl.

'Didn’t I tell you I would kill you if I saw you again?' 

'Yeah you did.’ Pearl shrugged. 'But there’s been a change of plans.’ She quickly drew her gun and pointed it at Boomer. He just laughed.

'Am I supposed to be scared?’ He folded his arms over his bare chest and raised his eyebrow at Pearl. 

'Seriously, what kind of whore are you?’ Violet was clearly completely ignoring what was going on. 'I thought Naomi was your friend?’

'Who the heck are you? Why do you know all this about me?’ Courtney looked confused and scared all at once. 

'Oh come on Court, I know I make a convincing woman but I thought you’d recognise than man you were engaged to.’ Violet smirked at Courtney. He saw the recognition set in and her face paled further.

'Jason?’ She gasped.

'You’re a dude too?’ Boomer looked between Pearl and Violet. Pearl still had the gun pointed at him. 

'Ya huh.’ Violet smirked at him. 'Confused? I know you want to fuck us both.’ She winked at Boomer.

'This is dumb, I’m calling the cops.’ Courtney reached over to the phone on the bedside table. Violet chuckled and bent over, pulling the gun from her boot.

'Oh sweetie, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.’ He pointed the gun right at her face. She raised her eyebrow again.

'You wouldn’t dare.’

'Wouldn’t I?’ Violet cocked the gun. 

'You don’t have it in you. I know you Jason, you’re not capable of shooting someone.’

'Maybe not Jason.’ Violet shrugged. 'But it wouldn’t be the first time Violet had shot someone.' 

Courtney looked at Boomer now as she let Violet’s words sink in.

'That guy in Texas.’ She whispered as if the girls couldn’t hear her from a few feet away. 'It was all over the papers, their faces. It was them!' 

'Bravo.’ Violet chuckled. 'I’ve killed before, I’m not afraid to do it again.' 

'Ok Vi seriously can it.’ Pearl was getting frustrated now. She didn’t want to stand here all day having a catch up. She was here to do a job. 'I’m going to finish this Boomer. I’m not running scared of you anymore.’

'Oh and what are you going to do about it, fag?' 

Pearl’s blood boiled. She could have just shot him but for some reason instead she lunged at him. He punched her in the gut, she punched him in the jaw. Violet kept the gun trained on Courtney but she couldn’t take her eyes off the fight. Boomer managed to wrestle Pearl to the ground, he was much stronger. He got the gun out of her hand and kicked her in the ribs. 

'This wasn’t how you expected it to end did you fag? You should have shot me when you had the chance.’ He smiled menacingly as he stood over Pearl, pointing her own gun at her. Pearl felt tears behind her eyes. No, this wasn’t how she expected it to end. She managed to catch Violet’s eye. Violet saw the tears in her eyes and she saw Pearl’s lips pucker as she blew Violet one last kiss. This ain’t ending like this, Violet thought. We’ve come too far, gone through too much. I’ll be damned if I am losing her like this. She didn’t think anymore. She needed to just act. 

'Hey asshole!’ Violet yelled to get Boomer’s attention. He looked up at her. 'You are not taking her away from me. I love her too much to let you do that.' 

Pearl’s heart hammered in her chest, partly through fear but partly due to Violet’s words. With the exception on the night at the cabin they had never said the L word to each other. 

'Fags, the pair of you.’ Boomer scoffed as he looked back down at Pearl. He cocked the gun, his finger tightening on the trigger. Pearl whimpered and her first tear fell. She heard gun fire, she screamed. But there was no pain. She watched the gun fall from Boomer’s hand and she saw him take his last breath. He fell on top of her, his sticky blood covering her in seconds.

'Urgh.’ Pearl groaned trying to push the man off her. Violet was at her side to help her. They rolled him off her and Violet helped her up. She picked her gun up.

'Thank you.’ Pearl panted. 'You saved my life.’ A few more tears fell from her eyes and completely forgetting about Courtney she grabbed Violet’s face and kissed her hard.

'Urgh you really are fags.’ Courtney’s voice snapped them back around. Pearl looked at her and then back at Violet. 

'Can I?’ Pearl smiled dangerously at her. Violet smiled back.

'Please, be my guest.’ She kissed Pearl softly and then Pearl raised her gun and aimed at Courtney. Country screamed but seconds later she was silent, blood rolling down her face and a bullet between her eyes.

'Shall we?’ Violet held her arm out and Pearl linked hers through it.

'Let’s go pumpkin.’

They descended the stairs together and made it outside. As they reached the front gate Naomi rounded the corner carrying a small child in her arms. She saw them leaving her house, Pearl covered in blood. 

'You’re welcome.’ Violet smirked at her and then she grabbed Pearl’s hand and dragged her to the car. They jumped in as Naomi was running into the house. 

'That poor kids about to get traumatised.’ Pearl chuckled started the engine. 'Where to?' 

'Take me home Pearl. Take me home.' 

Pearl lit a cigarette and handed it to Violet before lighting one for herself. Pearl gave Violet a sidelong glance and a small smile as she put the car in drive. And Violet swore she felt her insides flutter.

————————————

They didn’t make it out of town before the fuzz were after them. Pearl drove to the only place she could think of for shelter, the diner. Ru hurried them in the back, kicked everyone out and locked the front door. He didn’t ask about their getups, he didn’t ask why Pearl was covered in blood or why the cops were after them. That was just one of the reasons Pearl had decided to come to him. The three of them were ducked behind the counter in the diner, the two girls shaking. 

'This is bad isn’t it?’ Ru asked them. 

'Yeah.’ Pearl swallowed.

'Much more than the petty theft we used to get in trouble for.’ Violet added. 'When they catch us,' when not if because they knew it was inevitable. 'It’ll all be over.' 

Pearl reached for Violet and held her hand tightly as if trying to calm her. 

'This is all my fault.’ Tears welled in Pearl’s eyes.

'Don’t say that.’ Violet shuffled closer to her and used her free hand to stroke Pearl’s cheek. 'We’re in this together. We always have been. To die by your side would be a heavenly way to die.’ Violet sniffed back her own tears. They fell into silence after that but not for long. Minutes later they heard the sirens. Ru poked his head above the counter a little and sighed.

'They’ve got the place surrounded.’ He sat back down. 

'Violet Chachki! Pearl Liaison! We know you’re in there. We have you surrounded. Give yourselves up.’ A voice boomed from outside. Pearl let go of Violet’s hand and got her gun out.

'Fuck that.’ Pearl shook her head. 'I’m not going down without a fight.' 

'Are you crazy? They’ll kill you!’

'Maybe.’ Pearl bit her lip. 'But I might get to take a few of them down with me.’

'I’m coming with you then.’ Violet unsheathed her own gun but Pearl was shaking her head. 

'No way.’ Pearl told her. 'This is my mess. I’m not putting you in danger anymore.’ She went to take Violet’s gun from her hand but Ru beat her to it. Both girls turned to look at him.

'I’ll come with you.’ He told them.

'No!’ Violet shook her head frantically. 

'Ru no, please. Let me handle this.’ Pearl added.

'Boys,’ he paused and shook his head. 'Or should I say girls. I’m dying, the doctors only give me a matter of months. I don’t want to die an old frail man in a hospital bed. I would rather go out fighting for my two babies.’ He put the gun down and used one hand to stroke Violet’s cheek and the other to stroke Pearl’s. 'Let’s go take down some pigs.’ Ru picked the gun back up. Pearl went to stand up but Violet grabbed her hand. She had tears behind her eyes.

'Pearl, if you don’t come back I need you to know something.’ She sniffed and the first tear fell. Pearl cupped her face and gently stroked the tear away with her thumb. 

'What is it baby?' 

'I should have told you sooner.’ Violet choked a little. 'I love you. I love you so fucking much. I love Pearl and Jason loves Matt.’ more tears fell. Pearl felt her own come back. 

'Every part of me, loves every part of you. Always have, always will pumpkin.’ Pearl kissed her passionately, probably more passionately than she’d ever kissed anyone before. When they pulled back they were both crying. 'I’ll see you on the other side.’ Pearl smiled at Violet and then looked at Ru. 'Let’s do this.’

Pearl and Ru stood up and looked out the window at the cops surrounding the place. They hid their guns. Pearl took a few deep breaths and then she stepped out from behind the counter with Ru following behind. They heard Violet sobbing as they headed to the door. 

'I’m going to hold my hands up, pretend I’m surrendering. Then you’re going to open fire.’ Pearl whispered to Ru.

'Got it.’ Ru nodded. 'Matthew?’ He put his hand on Pearl’s shoulder.

'Yeah?' 

'If you make it out, promise me you’ll look after Jason.' 

Pearl bit her lip and nodded.

'Same goes for you old man.’ She kissed his cheek. She took a few more deep breaths and opened the door of the diner. Ru hid round the corner and watched her step outside.

'Don’t shoot. Here I am.’ Pearl held her hands above her head.

'Where’s Violet?’ The cop called over the megaphone.

'She’s not here. It’s me you want. It was me who carried out all the robberies including the one in Vegas. I killed Billy Ray. I killed Boomer Banks and Courtney Act. Violet just got caught up in my mess.’ She took a few steps forward and subtly to the side so she was out of the way of the door and then Ru stepped out and began to open fire. Pearl grabbed her own gun and started shooting too. The cops started shooting back, in the haze of gun fire Pearl couldn’t even see where she was shooting. She just knew she couldn’t stop. She heard a loud groan from her right and briefly looked around to see Ru go down. She kept shooting, she had more of a reason to kill now. 

Violet poked her head around the counter just in time to see Ru hit the floor. She let out a small pained moan. She could just about see Pearl still shooting. She couldn’t let Pearl die. She didn’t know what she would do if anything happened to Pearl. She jumped to her feet and made her way to the door. As she looked around the door she saw the bullet heading right at the blonde. Violet’s body went numb.

'Pearl!’ She screamed but it was already too late. The bullet hit Pearl in her left shoulder and sent the blonde falling back to the floor. The gun fell from her hand as she hit the tarmac. Violet ran to her, she couldn’t stop herself. She fell to the floor next to her love and cradled her. 

'Pearl! Baby please tell me you’re ok?’ She was getting covered in Pearl’s blood but she didn’t care. Pearl’s eyes fluttered and she struggled to focus on Violet. She reached her hand up and stroked the brunette’s cheek. Her hand was as cold as ice.

'Everything I’ve ever done, I’ve done for you.’ Pearl croaked. 'Even death won’t stop me loving you pumpkin.’

Violet was crying as she bowed her head and kissed Pearl’s cold lips.

'I love you so fucking much.’ Violet sobbed. 'Please don’t leave me! I can’t live without you!’ Just then she felt a strong set of hands on her shoulders tugging her away from Pearl. 'Get off me! Let me go! I have to know if she’s going to be ok!’ She yelled and kicked and screamed but it didn’t help. Her hands were pulled behind her back and the cuffs were slapped on her wrists.

'Violet Chachki, you’re under arrest.’ The cop told her. 

'Pearl!’ She screamed as the cop started dragging her away. She watched Pearl’s head roll to the side on the concrete and her eyes close. She looked over at Ru who was also bleeding and just as lifeless. Violet was thrown in the back of a police car. Her tears were cascading down her face, her mascara running heavily. She'd ruined everything, just like she did best. She could have prevented this, she should have prevented this. But things were never going to be the same again, and it was all Violet’s fault. 

But she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she wouldn’t forget Pearl for as long as she lived. And Jason would never forget Matt. 

————————————

August 2016 - Florida

The sunlight seemed brighter, the air fresher and the birds louder. As he stepped outside he had an overwhelming urge to go running straight back in. God it had been such a long time. The world was a foreign place to him now. He’d been staring at the same four walls with barely any outside stimuli for so many years and now he was being let loose in the world again. It felt like an alien planet. Where did he fit into this world? He didn’t have anyone or anywhere to go. They couldn’t just turf him out could they? He wanted to go back inside. He was scared and not a lot scared him; it never used to anyway. But he’d been young back then, barely twenty-four years old when his whole world had crumbled. If he closed his eyes he could still hear the gunshots ringing out, he could still hear the screams. He could still see the blood. But that didn’t scare him half as much as stepping out of that building and being tossed back into the real world on his ass, much older and much more fearful than he was back then. He wasn’t angry about what happened, not anymore. After spending years with nothing but your own company he’d had a lot of time to think. It had been inevitable; he’d done some terrible things in his life and he’d deserved to pay for his sins. Maybe he’d been the lucky one, his partner hadn’t been so lucky. He heard the gates close behind him. This was it, he was really out, and there was no going back. All he had in this world was one small bag of belongings and his memories. He’d packed a lot into his twenty-four years, he’d seen and done things most people wouldn’t in a whole lifetime. They’d been just eighteen when they’d decided to pack up and leave everything. Over the next six years they would have the adventure of a lifetime. And he would always hold those memories close to his heart. Memories of him. He would always treasure those years they spent together. Inside, when he was having a particularly bad day, he would think of him and it never failed to put a smile on his face. Sure they had their ups and downs but he wouldn’t change a second of it. They’d made history. They’d left behind a legacy. Their ballad would always live on. 

————————————

Jason didn’t know where he was supposed to go; he had nowhere to go. But somehow he’d ended up here. He wasn’t surprised he’d ended up here, the place where it had all ended. The place where they were finally brought down. Ru’s diner, although not Ru’s anymore. Charlie’s, whoever the hell Charlie was. Jason took a deep breath and stepped inside. The bell didn’t chime as he entered. The diner didn’t look a lot different to be honest, it had just had an upgrade. Maybe the 1950’s were back in style. The old red seats that had been falling apart were now blue. The old checked linoleum that had been stained with god knows what since Ru had opened it was now black and spotty. He made his way to his old booth which was still in the same place as it had been but it wasn’t as old and battered. The napkin dispenser was metal instead of the old red plastic ones. The old ashtrays were gone and he noticed the diner suspiciously didn’t smell like stale smoke anymore. Jason lit a cigarette anyway and sat back in his chair. He watched the waitresses scurrying about but no one came over to him. Rude, he thought. Maybe you order at the counter now? The waitresses wore black pants and white shirts instead of the checked dresses Katya and Kasha used to wear. He waited a little while longer but still no one came.

Prison admittedly hadn’t been as bad as Jason thought it would be. It had been rather entertaining when he’d been taken back to the station and asked to strip and they discovered he was a man. He’d been kept pretty secluded which he’d like but he never had many visitors, just Katya and Kasha. Kasha’s visits had stopped about twenty years ago or so and he’d found out from Katya that she’d passed away. And then about ten years ago Katya stopped visiting and he assumed the same had happened to her. That was the last visitor he had. 

A young couple entered the diner and Jason heard the bell over the door chime. He frowned to himself. How strange. 

It was going to be difficult trying to navigate the world after so many years away. He sucked on his cigarette and briefly closed his eyes. When he opened them she was sat opposite him in the booth, also smoking. She lowered her sunglasses down her nose and raised an eyebrow at Jason.

'Who the fuck is Charlie?’ She asked him in disgust. Jason couldn’t help but laugh.

'Who the fuck knows?’ He watched her drag on the cigarette between her pink painted nails. She had that old movie star look about her, her hair tied back under a scarf. 

'This place sucks dick.’ Pearl scoffed looking around. 'And look at the young bimbos they have working here! Ru never would have stood for this.’ She shook her head.

'How do you still look so young?’ Jason raised his eyebrow at her. He felt so old as he sat there and he bet he probably looked it too. But Pearl still looked as though she could be in her twenties.

'Maybe I got better at make-up?’ She shrugged and finished her cigarette before stubbing it out. 'Or maybe…’ she leant forward on the table and bit her lip. 'Or maybe none of this real.' 

Jason nodded, he’d had his suspicions of that. 

'Are you really here?’ Jason whispered stubbing his own cigarette out.

'Are any of us really here?’ Pearl shrugged. 'What do you want to believe?’ Pearl half-smiled at him. Jason sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

'I was to believe you’re really here.’

'Ok then pumpkin. You believe what you need to believe.’ Pearl smiled at him and reached across the table and put her hand on top of his. Her skin was freezing, just like it had been that day. 'Wanna blow this popsicle stand?' 

'Yes.’ Jason smiled and they stood up. Pearl linked her arm through Jason’s. They walked passed a table with a couple of kids and they did so, one of the kids shivered.

'Oh man I just got super cold!’ He frowned looking around. Jason gave Pearl a sidelong glance and she smiled.

'Oopsies.’ She smirked. She led Jason outside, once again the bell didn’t chime and then she led him around the corner. Jason shook his head in disbelief as he saw the 1950’s Buick Roadmaster staring at him. He let go of Pearl’s arm.

'No way.’ He shook his head.

'Way.’ Pearl grinned. 'How do you fancy driving?’ She fished the keys out of her clutch and tossed them to Jason.

'You never let me drive.' 

'I’m sure you can’t do any damage to it anymore.’ Pearl told him. She slid in the passenger’s seat and Jason in the driver’s seat.

'What’s going on Pearl?’ He turned to her in confusion. 'Is any of this real?' 

'Maybe. Maybe not.’ She stroked his cheek. 'Does it really matter?' 

'I guess not.’ Jason shrugged. As long as Pearl was here he didn’t much care if it was real or not. He needed her and she was here, that’s all that mattered.

'Where am I going?’

'Wherever you want.’ Pearl smiled. She lit a cigarette and handed it to Jason and then lit one for herself. 'We’ve got the whole world at our feet Jason. We can go wherever, do whatever. This is our legacy. This is our ballad.' 

Jason kissed Pearl softly making the blonde smile brightly.

'I love you Pearl.’

'I love you too. Vi.’ She smirked. Jason frowned. He adjusted the rear-view mirror and looked at his reflection. Winged eyeliner. Blue eye shadow. A red lip and a little beauty mark right above them. Not his reflection; Violet’s reflection. And not only Violet’s reflection but a twenty something Violet. She turned to look at Pearl with confusion in her eyes. Pearl smirked at her around the cigarette.

'You look as beautiful as ever Ms Chachki.’ She took Violet’s hand and squeezed it. 'Now come on, the open road is calling our names pumpkin.' 

Violet started the engine, put the Buick in drive and floored it. She glanced over at Pearl who had her arm hanging out the window and the wind blowing her head scarf a little. She used her free hand to take hold of Violet’s that wasn’t on the wheel. Violet’s heart felt as though it was on fire. She had no idea where she was going but she didn’t care. She’d let Pearl lead her anywhere. Because Violet had always belonged to Pearl and she always would. And she was ready to write the next chapter of their legacy. This was their ballad and only they knew the words.