#a real book i’m gonna be obnoxious and shove it in the face of everyone i know

[lexalovesbooks]

My problem is that sharing my writing always makes me insane

[marjorie189]

Australia

Hey ya’ll so this Ryland Storms Imagine was written less than a year ago with @alltimecalvinhood. We had planned to create an imagines book for Ryland on Wattpad but she unfortunately went MIA. I decided to post this imagine because it’s way too good to just have it saved away on a doc without being read, but full credits also go to @alltimecalvinhood alongside myself! 

This was going to have a part 2 but I wouldn’t want to continue this without @alltimecalvinhood​ since it was our planned imagine, so I wouldn't want to take credit for something we both worked on! 

Enjoy you guys❤️

-

You were sleeping when you felt your phone vibrate a couple times under your pillow. You smiled in your sleep knowing it was Ryland‘s good morning texts.

You slid your hand under your pillow trying to get your phone, your eyes still shut wishing you could be sleeping. Once your phone was disconnected you slowly opened your eyes, catching a glimpse of his messages.

Your heart fluttered as you saw his contact:

Ryland🥵🤩💦❤️❤️

You grinned knowing he missed you.

You opened them up.

Messages:

You smiled at how adorable he was. His whole “bad boy/player” image on tiktok and on the vlogs wasn’t accurate when it comes to you.

His whole act changes when he’s with you. You always tease him and call him a simp.

Like The Ryland Storms acting all soft, sending good morning texts, acting all desperate for attention. Who?

You and Ryland were exclusive but not official. At least not yet.

You both acted all lovey dovey with each other and weren’t afraid to show it. The fans loved it. You just never put a label on it.

Not that you guys didn’t want to have the “boyfriend & girlfriend” title, it’s just that you both are getting to flirtatiously know each other. You both were going with the flow, and it has been going great.

You chuckled at him calling you Shawty. Him trying to act all bad boy like, to impress you. You decided to play along with his name calling. You jokingly called him daddy.

You laughed and quickly got up. You headed to the restroom to brush your teeth and face.

You then walk to your closet and choose a simple outfit to go to the Hype House in.

Outfit:

Hair: 

Makeup: 

Once you were done you checked your phone and decided to look at twitter before you left to meet Ryland.

You were looking at tweets when you came across a fan edit of you and Ryland.

Click to see edit! 

You smiled as you watched and retweeted it.

You then clicked on Ryland’s twitter and saw his most recent tweet.

You smiled at the thought of going to Australia with him. You checked the comments and what you saw made you feel some type of way.

It was a comment from Indiana Massara.

“What the fuck?” You whispered to yourself.

You didn’t want to overreact just yet but it seemed like she was trying to get at Ryland.

You checked her account and her latest tweet made you gasp angrily and laugh dryly.

How could she have the audacity to tweet that she wanted to travel to Australia with someone “special” right after Ryland tweets that he wants to go to Australia. It’s not a coincidence, especially since she commented on his tweet.

This got you pretty heated. You got your car keys and headed to the Hype House.

Car:

The whole car ride you were heated by the thought of Indiana making moves on Ryland. Everyone knows that you and him are exclusive, so why would she even cross those boundaries. You rolled your eyes and gripped on the steering wheel tightly.

After about a few minutes you pulled up to the Hype House. You pulled up to the driveway and parked next to Thomas’s new Tesla.

You walked in and saw Avani, Tony, and Ondreaz sitting in the living room.

They all turned when they heard the door open.

“Y/N!” They all said in unison with wide smiles, when they saw you.

“Hiii!” You say happily smiling at them but then it vanished.

“Why aren’t you running up to see your lover boy? I’m sure he’s waiting for you in his room.” Tony smiled at you from the couches.

You walked up to them and sat next to Tony. Avani and Ondre being on the other couch.

“Yeah for reals!” Avani laughed. “The first thing you do is go upstairs to see him. Why are you here?” She joked.

Ondreaz laughed causing them all to laugh.

“Woww. Thanks. I feel so welcomed.” You laughed. “It’s just that I saw some tweets and it just got me mad” You say.

Ondreaz furrowed his eyebrow. “What do you mean? You okay?” He says.

“Yeah I’m fine. It’s just annoying.” You huffed rolling your eyes.

“Well come on show us.” Tony nudged you.

You sighed and pulled up the tweets.

Avani and Ondre sat on the same couch as you and Tony to see them.

You showed them Ryland’s tweet about Australia.

“Okay and do you not want him going to Australia?” Ondreaz laughed.

“You’re dumb. Noo!” You laughed rolling your eyes.

“Ohhh. I see.” Avani says, noticing Indiana’s comment.

“What?” Tony and Ondreaz say immediately looking over at Avani. They both looked confused as can be.

You laughed at their faces.

“Look at the comments.” She sassily says rolling her eyes at them. “I swear boys are so dumb!” She says annoyed.

You laugh agreeing.

They both looked at her comment.

“Okay what if she’s just being friendly?” Tony asked looking at you.

You and Avani faced each other and gave each other a what the fuck face.

“Okay clearly you know nothing about how girls act.” Avani says sarcastically.

“Okay okay what he means is what if she was just commenting on a friend's tweet? Like it’s a possibility. But I get how you see it. You can also see her as trying to flirt with Ryland.” Ondreaz added.

“Yeah thank you! No need to be mean!” Tony said, feeling offended.

You smiled at him and gave him a hug.

You both laughed.

“I totally agree with you Ondre. At first I was like what the fuck, but I didn’t want to overreact. Yet. So I looked further into it.” You say.

“Notice how she says yet.” Tony laughed.

“Hahaha so funny!” You said sarcastically at him. “But look, there's more.” You say going into her account.

You showed them her tweet.

“It can’t just be a coincidence. Like it just can’t.” You say sighing.

“Yeahh that whole traveling to Australia with someone special kinda seems suspicious since it’s right after Ryland’s tweet.” Ondreaz realized.

“Yeah what the fuck. Like she comments on his tweet saying how she “coincidently” knows people there and then makes a tweet on her own claiming how she wants to go with someone special. That’s just a big no!” Avani said.

“Exactly! So I’m kind of just trippin about it. Like I know Ryland and I aren’t “boyfriend and girlfriend” but it’s still like what the fuck you know.” I sighed leaning into the couch, sadly.

“Aww come over here!” Tony said embracing you into his arms. He placed you on his chest.

“Yeah you guys aren’t ‘girlfriend and boyfriend’ but you guys are clearly a thing and clearly talking. Literally everyone fucking knows that. So she’s literally just chasing clout, and hoping to get some spotlight.” Avani spoke.

“Yeah honestly I lost my respect for her. She seemed cool like she’s come by the house a few times. But you’re our girl and it ain’t cool what she’s doing.” Ondre said.

Tony nodded.

“Have you talked to him?” Tony said, looking down at you laying your head on his chest.

“Noooo. Definitely not stalling here, talking to you guys.” You say looking down.

“Okay you gotta go. Just talk to him.” Ondreaz said.

“Ughhhh fine.” You say standing up from Tony’s embrace. Tony frowned looking at you.

You laughed. “We can cuddle later.” You giggle.

“That's if you’re not cuddling with Ryland.” He said crossing his arms.

“You’re dumb. He’s gonna beat you up if you take me away from him especially if we’re cuddling.” You say walking towards the stairs.

“You know what I’m gonna dm this girl and tell her to keep commenting and flirting with Ryland so you can be sad and talk to us more and so we can cuddle. I miss my best friend!” He obnoxiously said.

“Oh my god possessive much!” Avani laughed.

You laughed at them and reached the top of the stairs. You went towards the direction of Ryland’s room.

Upon reaching the door to his room, you take a deep breath composing yourself. You then knock on the door sternly, ready to get this over with.

The door opened immediately, revealing Ryland’s smiling face. He looked like a little kid in a candy shop, what a simp.

“Sup Shawtyyy” He says trying to play it cool, but you could see right through him. You couldn’t help but smirk at the name but you then gave him a small glare, knowing you had business to handle. So you walked past him into the room. “Baby, what is it?” He says, sounding concerned.

“I’m mad!” You say in a baby tone, crossing your arms looking down at the ground.

“What why? But first tell me why you took soooo long. I was gonna die of getting so anxious to see your pretty face!” He exaggeratedly says.

You chuckle. “Well I’ve been here for the past 30 minutes just talking to Avani, Tony, and Ondre.”

He gasps loudly. “So you’re telling me that for the past hour and a half you’ve been with clown girl, helicopter, and Tony Lopez’s brother??” He loudly says, pretending to be offended.

“You’re so meann.” You say slightly shoving him as you giggle.

“We could have already eaten breakfast together and cuddled as we watched Outer Banks or gone out for a swim.” He says shaking his head pretending to be mad.

“I’m sorry Ry but Indiana was flirting with you!” You blurt out out exasperated, whipping out the tweets on your phone. Ryland looks down at the phone in your hand and suddenly bursts out into laughter.

You pout at him and cross your arms, acting like a child,

“Babeeee, it’s not funnyyyyy.” You say looking up at him with puppy dog eyes and a frown. He stops laughing and looks at you with a look of fondness across his face. He places a hand on your shoulder in a reassuring way and comes closer.

“Shawty, you’re adorable when you act all jealous.” He says and places a finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look into his eyes. You feel butterflies filling your stomach at the words, but stand your ground.

“Are you going to go to Australia with her? Huh?” You say grumpily with a raised eyebrow, wanting to know what his answer would be. And he laughs once again.

“Y/N I wouldn’t go to Australia with anyone else in the world but you.” Your heart melts and you look at him waiting for him to say more. “I didn’t even respond to her tweet because you’re the only girl I want.” You smile widely at him and jump into his arms.

“Aww baby!” You say giving him a soft look. “That’s so sweet!” You say and give him a kiss on the cheek. He gives you a devilish grin and throws you on the bed. He stands towering above you.

“Now will the only girl in the world do me the honor of being my official, one and only...shawty.” He begins the sentence off serious, but he cracks a grin at the end. You can’t help but roll your eyes at his goofiness. You get on your knees on the bed so that you’re the same height as Ryland’s chest.

“Hmm...I don’t know.” You pause acting like you’re thinking. “Will you take me to Australia?” You joke with him.

He scoffs, “Already got the plane tickets booked.” He says back, jokingly. You throw your arms around his waist. In a swift movement you were on top of him as he was beneath you on the bed.

“Then yes. I will do you the honor of being your one and only shawty.” You smile warmly as you hang on tightly to him. Your hands wrapped around his neck and your face inches away from his. His hands placed on your hips.

“Perfect.” He whispers as he warmly looks into your eyes. He then trails them down to your lips. He smiles up at you and slowly places his lips on yours.

You closed your eyes, savoring the moment. Both lips were in sync. Both lips fit perfectly as if they were meant for one another. You both slowly pulled away from the kiss and intimately looked into each others eyes, like there was no other,

Ryland slowly sat up on the bed causing you to be on top of his lap. He took your legs and wrapped them around him. He put his arms around your lower back and pushed you closer to him, causing your inner thighs to be as close as possible to his body.

You smirked at his dirty actions and laughed, shaking your head.

He smirked back at you and smashed his lips onto yours. Before the kiss can turn into a makeout session you laugh into the kiss and he starts tickling you making you squirm out of his lap and onto the bed. He takes advantage of that and quickly hops on top of you, keeping you captured underneath him.

“Now let’s talk about those kisses.” He said referring to your texts from earlier.

“NOOO!” You giggle trying to get out from under him.

“You can’t escape me and my kisses.” He says pucking out his lips.

“HELPPP!” You yell out laughing.

“No ones gonna help you. The doors locked!” He devilshy said looking down at you.

“Nooo.” You yell loudly closing your eyes. You then hit his arms trying to get out from under him.

He then smirked, getting an idea in his head.

“I know how to fix this behavior!” He says seductively. He lifted one of his arms from towering over you and slowly pulled down the zipper from your Zappa jacket. Exposing your small shirt that tightly held your breasts together.

He threw the jacket at the door and his eyes lit up, looking at your boobs. He licked his lips at the sight of them from under the tight small shirt. He soon came out of his trance and went back to his plan.

He dove his head into the side of your neck and you gasped at the exhilarating feeling of his lips sucking on your neck.

“Fuckkk Ryland.” You moaned quietly. Your hips moving up to his body, wrapping your legs around his waist coming into contact with his hard bulge.

You decided to cause some friction with the two of you. You rubbed on his hard member with your wet one.

You felt Ryland stiffen up and hold in his breath. You continuously swifted your hips to his member wanting him to show the pleasure you’ve caused him. Two can play at that game.

He gave up and let out a loud moan and immediately put his hands to your hips directing the pace of your actions.

You both moaned out as the pleasure immensed with Ryland taking control and fastening your hip movements. He added onto the pleasure as he rode through the fabric. You closed your eyes and let your head fall to the bed. You pulled his curly hair not wanting to let out any more moans. You didn’t want anyone hearing you two.

“Okay okay.” You whispered, putting your hand on his chest, insinuating for him to stop. He slowly stopped and you both caught your breath.

“Fuck that was amazing!” You say pecking his lips.

“Damn this was only dry humping. And yet it was so great. I can’t imagine what it’s like to actually have sex with you.” He says looking down into your eyes.

You smiled blushing at him.

“I didn’t wanna stop but I don’t wanna rush things.” You say.

“No I totally get it. Officially getting together and having sex within the same time is a little crazy.” He laughs.

You giggle and nod.

“It’ll be so worth it. But breakfast?” You ask him as your eyes lit up with the thought of food.

“It will be as long as you don't make me wait till marriage.” He says curiosity roaming in his head.

You laugh. “I wouldn’t be able to stand that long of a wait. And plus you’re horny alllll the time.” You say laughing.

“You wanted breakfast right?” He says trying to change the subject and trying not to laugh at his hornyness.

“No no. We’re not changing the subject.” You laugh hitting him. “You literally posted a tiktok saying you were horny.”

“Okayy Okayy! Maybe sometimes.” He says not making eye contact.

“Literally all the time!” You say pushing him.

He laughs knowing you were right, showing his perfect top row of white teeth.

“Whatever. But now I get to satisfy my hornyness with you.” He says placing a kiss on your lips.

“Oh does that mean imma be booty called everyday?” You say with a stern look on your face.

“Oh don’t even act like you don’t feel the same way. I know you want me.” He says confidently as he looks you up and down.

“Crepes?” You say smiling.

“Oh look who’s changing the subject now with breakfast!” He says with an eyebrow raised.

-

Authors Note: Since this imagine was written less than a year ago, Tony and Ondreaz Lopez were written on this imagine before they got cancelled. So if you don’t support them then imagine somebody else :) thank you all for understanding💜

[dandelionflower]

First I love your stories and Second do you think you could do a fic where Felix helps marinette when her class is being jerks cause of Lila. Anything else can be up to you.

[send me Felinette prompts/requests]

……

“Hey Juleka!”

She didn’t answer, but that was normal for Juleka. She was probably just nervous about the modeling gig she booked her.

“Max, how’s your new video game going? Need any peer testing yet?”

Not even a blink in reply.

Now that was odd; Max was always ready to talk about his latest updates and give her a time stamp on when he’ll need a review. Last she checked, it was three days, twelve hours, twenty-three minutes, and four seconds.

She tried talking to everyone in the class, but no one said a word; not even Rose, who was usually bubbling with morning joy.

Finally, Alya came to sit next to her.

“Hey, Alya! How are you?”

Not. A. Word.

When Ms. Bustier came into the room, Alya practically leapt out of her seat raising her hand.

“Ms. Bustier! I was wondering if Lila and I could switch seats? I wanted to talk with Nathaniel about something.”

“Of course!” Ms. Bustier flashed her a familiar grin. “I love to see all of my students getting along.”

Lila slid into Alya’s seat like it was where she’d always belonged. “Hi Marinette!” She chirped, a smirk in her eyes.

Marinette turned away, her eye catching on the eager faces of all of her friends, leaning forward to see what? Her all alone?

Whatever, they may be mad at her for knowing the truth, but their friendship was stronger than that liar. It would outlast this.

—

After another day of being avoided like the plague, Marinette was the first one out of the school, ignoring Lila’s cries of “Marinette!” In favor of booking it to the park.

“Hey, Fe.” She pecked him on the lips and sat down next to him on what she had labeled “their bench.”

“Hello, angel.”

“Sooo, anything changed since we texted at lunch?”

“Nothing much, except Claude and Bridgette have been absolutely obnoxious about getting you to meet them and I’m starting to run out of excuses to tell them no.”

“Then tell them yes, I’d love to make a few more friends.”

He gave her a look. “How long has it been?”

She sighed, slumping into his side. “A week.”

“I don’t even know what to say at this point. Have they even told you why they’re so upset with you?”

“No, but they keep forcing Lila on me, so I think they excpect an apology and some groveling.”

Felix made an unidentifiable sound of disgust from somewhere in the back of his throat.

“Same.”

—

Five minutes before lunch, Marinette asked Ms. Bustier if she could use the restroom.

She was out of the room before the “yes” could even come out of the teacher’s mouth.

“Hey, guys!”

“Mari!!”

“Nette!”

She shot a glare at the brown-haired boy who called her Nette.

“Claude, how many times have I told you; calling me ‘Nette’ is a boyfriend privilege only.” She slid onto the bench, next to the boyfriend in question and pecked him on the lips.

“Gross, get a room.” Allegra smirked.

“If I feed you, will you shut up?”

“Nope.”

“I will!” Claude waved his hand wildly, like an eight-year old who knew the answer to a question.

“And me!” Bridgette shoved Claude aside and replaced his waving hand with her own.

“Bridgette, you haven’t said anything yet.”

“Do you want me to? I will.” She began belting out the digits of pi at the top of her lungs.

“No! No! Bridgette! I’ll give you the cookies just be quiet!”

She threw the cookies at her, hitting her square in the face.

“Ack! How could this have happened to one as beautiful and majestic as I?” She flopped onto the ground, writhing.

“You gonna eat those?”

“Yes, shut up.”

“I have some for you too, Claude.” She tossed him a bag, laughing slightly at the squeals of joy Claude emitted.

“So, now that the toddlers have been entertained...” Felix snorted. “Mercury, how was your sculpting retreat?”

The green-clad boy looked up from his phone and pulled off his headphones. “First of all, it wasn’t a retreat; it was a one-on-one with the greatest sculptor of all time. And yeah, it was the coolest thing I’ve ever done! How do you even get a hold of those people?”

Marinette was about to deliver an answer, when a familiar gaggle of people with their arms crossed approached them.

“Hey guys.” She offered weakly.

They ignored her and turned instead to Felix and the rest of Marinette’s friends.

“Who are you?”

“She was speaking to you, you know.” Felix commented, engaging in a staring match with Lila.

“You’re just replacement friends. You get that, right?”

“The replacement is more often than not better than the original.” Allegra commented.

“Excuse me?”

“Well, no one replaces a good product, do they?”

“Why you...” Alya calmed herself and just left, without looking at Marinette once.

“You told me they stopped.” Felix grumbled.

“They’re talking to me for school projects now; it’s an improvement, at least...” She looked down at her hands; they were shaking so much she could hardly feel them.

A larger hand enveloped both of her own and she looked up at Felix, whose expression was so concerned, so caring, so real, she could almost cry.

“We really got to get you into Aster.” Mercury spoke. “Else Allegra might attack someone.”

—

Fourteen Christmas presents were wrapped and carefully placed on the desks.

At the end of the day, fourteen presents were left on the desks, without ever being touched.

After they all left, she walked from desk to desk, collecting all of the untouched presents.

She shuffled home, glancing at the park where she and Felix and everyone else would meet. It was a shame they couldn’t come today.

She labored up the stairs to her room, and cracked open the door.

“Suprise!”

“Guys, what’s this?” She set her bag of snubbed gifts onto the ground and walked into the embrace of her closest friends.

“It’s a surprise party!” Bridgette threw confetti into the air while Claude made jazz hands.

“I realized that, but for what?”

“Well,” Felix began, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, “it’s because-“

“You got into Aster!” Claude interrupted as Bridgette squealed and threw more confetti.

“What? But I never even submitted an application...”

“We did.”

“What?”

“We spoke to your parents about your, unique situation in class, and they gave their consent.”

“So...”

“So, after Christmas break you’ll be going to Aster academy with us.”

“Never to see those-“ Mercury slapped a hand over Allegra’s mouth before she could spout any profanity.

“Not-nice people ever again.” He filled in.

“Guys I don’t know what to say; thank you, so so much.”

“The only thanks we need are you getting out of that school.”

“Cookies would be nice though...” Claude mused.

“I’ll get you all the cookies you want.”

And as Bridgette and Claude cheered like children, Marinette buried her face in Felix’s chest and relished in the safety she felt in that moment; surrounded by friends, a boyfriend, and moving to a new school.

Maybe friendship had won out after all.

-

The rest.

[staygold-ponyboycurtis]

We Had Church!

But that day... well, Soda can’t sit still long enough to enjoy a movie, much less a sermon. It wasn’t long before he and Steve and Two-Bit were throwing paper wads at each other and clowning around, and finally Steve dropped a hymn book with a bang - accidentally, of course. Everyone in the place turned around to look at us, and Johnny and I nearly crawled under the pews. And Two-Bit waved at them. I hadn’t been to church since.

A one-shot about that one time the gang went to church... Idea credit goes to @ponyboyskywalker :)

“I don’t think the big guy upstairs is gonna mind if your shirt’s a little wrinkled, Pone,” Sodapop says, brushing off my shoulder.

I roll my eyes. “That’s not the point. I’m trying to look decent.”

“You’re a Curtis,” Two-Bit hollers from the living room. “Don’t y’all think you’re movie stars or somethin’?”

“Hey, don’t go givin’ the kid a complex, now,” I hear Steve say to him. “I don’t think the world could handle another self-obsessed Curtis.”

I hear the rumbling of Darry’s voice from somewhere in the house, undoubtedly berating Steve. Soda chuckles at the argument, buttoning his shirt in the mirror.

“I can’t believe you’re draggin’ me along with you,” he says. “Are ‘ya sure I won’t burst into flames when I walk through the door?”

I scoff. Soda doesn’t give himself enough credit. Just last week, he took the entire day off of work to sit with me while I was home sick with a stomach bug. Made me soup and ran to the store to get me ginger ale, too. In my eyes, he was bordering sainthood.

“I want you to go with me,” I say. “I think you’ll like going to church.” 

I’ve snuck off to our local church’s service a few times here and there without the gang knowing. After mom and dad died, I realized that it was a comfort to have something worth believing in. A higher power, of sorts. It helped me keep the hope that they weren’t gone forever. At first, I felt out of place. But after a while, I felt comfortable attending church. Welcomed, even.

I’d always sit in the back pew and mumble the hymns under my breath. I found myself relating to a lot of things the priest would say. Like the lessons about judgment and keeping promises. I wasn’t embarrassed or anything, I just didn’t know what the gang would think if they knew what I was up to. I didn’t want them to feel bad for me. I didn’t think they’d understand.

I had asked Sodapop if he’d go with me again and again until he finally said yes. I thought it was something we could do together. At first, he was confused. Once he realized that I wasn’t joking, he took it really seriously. Steve and Sodapop were each other’s shadows (much to my chagrin), so I should’ve known it was an unspoken invitation for him, too. Two-Bit decided to tag along because he didn’t have anything better to do, I reckon. 

“Is there singing?” Two-Bit had asked, his eyebrow raised incredulously. “I’ve heard there’s singing.”

“A little,” I said. “But you don’t have to sing along.”

“Good,” he had said with a chuckle. “Because my singing is a sin.”

I study myself in the mirror. I’m wearing Darry’s old dress shirt. The one he wore to his high school graduation. Except on him, it looked a lot better. The sleeves are a bit too long on me, and the collar is a little worn out. Despite the wrinkles, I don’t look too bad. I’d bet I’d even pass for a Soc if it weren’t for my long hair. I wonder what I’d look like if I cut it a bit…

“Pony,” I hear Steve say in a sarcastically exasperated tone. The one he always uses when he talks to me. He looks at me as if he’s repeated my name a few times. And he probably has. But I have a way of tuning people out when I’m stuck inside my own head.

“Johnny just walked in,” he says. “Let’s go.”

When we arrive at the old church, I usher everyone into the furthest pew from the front. Hoping we can sneak in undetected, I shuffle in quickly. A few older women turn around and stare at us a little too long, but I try not to notice. We surely look out of place, but isn’t there something to be said for not having any judgment?

I guess not, I think to myself as I meet their gaze.

“I’ve never been to church before,” Johnny says to me in a practically inaudible voice. “It’s nice in here.”

I nudge his shoulder, pointing directly ahead. “Look at the stained glass,” I say. It’s my favorite part of coming here. When the sun shines through towards the end of the service, it practically paints the entire room in shades of red, orange, and yellow. It reminds me of a brilliant flame - like a mirage. “It’s real nice,” he says, and I smile softly.

The priest begins talking, and I look down the row. Sodapop and Steve are jabbing each other in the sides and laughing quietly, without the slightest bit of interest in his sing-songy preaching. The hair on the back of my neck stands up and I nudge Two-Bit, who isn’t much help. Instead of stopping them, he leans over and asks what’s so funny, reveling in the entertainment. I sink a bit lower in my seat and try to focus on what’s being said by the priest. Something about having humility.

After a few minutes, I’ve sunk low enough in the pew that I’m practically on the floor. I want God to strike me right then and there – disappear from the embarrassment of it all. Sodapop, Steve, and Two-Bit haven’t stopped making noise since we sat down. Only Johnny has paid attention, nodding along whenever the priest interprets the biblical text into lament’s terms.

Every time I catch Sodapop’s eye, he bursts into laughter. I know it’s because he’s practically bursting at the seams with energy. He can barely sit still. He finds any kind of lecture too boring to pay attention. He has to cause mischief. I shake my head, cursing my former self for thinking that he could sit through a church service, let alone try to understand it.

When the velvet-lined receiving basket is shoved in front of us, Two-Bit peers in and tries to grab some of the change. The old man on the other end jerks it away from us in disgust and Two-Bit hoots at his ill-received prank. Steve and Soda find it hilarious and let out laughs that echo throughout the entire building.

When the priest ushers us to shake each other’s hands, the old women in front of us raise their eyebrows and look at us disapprovingly. Looking at the group of us, I can understand why. It almost seems like an insult for us, clad in jeans and old dress shirts, to be behind women dressed in dresses and pill box hats. I even catch Johnny’s dark face blushed with embarrassment.

“Well, peace be with you, too,” Two-Bit says in mock-disbelief. He crosses his arms theatrically and sits down with a huff. I look at him with an eyebrow raised.

“What?” he says. “Who would pass up the opportunity to shake the hands of the finest crop of upstanding young men that Tulsa has to offer?”

He leans forward enough so that his face is right behind the women’s backs. “You know, ladies. Those two are single,” he says, jerking his thumb to me and Johnny.

I cover my face in my hands. Oh, Lord.

For the rest of the service, I’m counting down the minutes and seconds until I can bolt out of the church and never look back. Thankfully, the gang keeps their antics down to a low murmur, but everyone is obnoxiously aware of our presence. I think I even notice the priest shake his head at us.

Right before we’re dismissed, I see Two-Bit and Soda wrestling over a bible.

“Put that back,” I whisper-yell, but they don’t listen. Two-Bit is trying to stand the books up in the pew next to him to build a tower, while Sodapop is trying to knock it down with a paper plane made from the church bulletin.

All of a sudden, I hear a thud. Without needing to turn my head, I know where it came from. Two-Bit snaps back into a sitting position as if he were in military formation and Sodapop stifles a laugh. It seems the entire crowd of church goers have turned around to look at us, the brazen group of greasers in God’s house raising hell.

I expect the old women in front of us to banish us right where we sit. If looks could kill, we’d be dead in the pew, and somehow, I think that’d be better than feeling the hot rush of humiliation that has burnt up my back.

With a wry smile, Two-Bit lifts his hand, waving sarcastically. “Hi, ladies,” he says with a smirk. They gasp a bit, turning around with astonished looks on their faces. 

Finally, the priest releases us to go about our day, and I’m on my feet before I can think twice. He tells us to have a great afternoon, but I’m contemplating digging a hole and hiding in it.

On the walk back to the house, the gang reminisces about our morning, oblivious to the scene we left behind.

“Did you see their faces?” Two-Bit says. “I thought someone had hiked up their skirt the way those fuddies’ mouths were hanging open.”

Soda chuckles. “I think they were all looking at you, Two-Bit.”

“Naw,” he says. “I was the most exciting thing to happen to them today.”

Sodapop slings his arm over my shoulder, not recognizing my annoyance. “Church sure was fun, Pone,” he says. “Thanks for invitin’ us.”

“Yeah, P.B.,” Two-Bit says. “Same time next week?”

My eyes widen. God help me.

-

one of my favorite headcanons is that Two-Bit calls Ponyboy “P.B.” :’) I just had to incorporate that here. & apologies for the delay. I was hoping to post this a few days ago but… life. however, I had so much fun writing this up. I just love thinking about the gang acting hilariously. And let me know who picks up on that lil easter egg I threw in there. I had to, y’all.

let me know what you think & if you have any ideas for future one-shots. I’m open to them all :)

[largedenominationsplease]

Wish You Were Sober

Summary: The Pogues are growing up and following their dreams, which means it's time for JJ and Kiara to sort through some feelings. Loosely inspired by "Wish You Were Sober" by Conan Gray.

Word Count: 5.2k

A/N: This was originally posted on ao3, but I wanted to share here as well.

August is full of gold and light and sunsets and new beginnings. It’s exciting and revitalizing and hopeful. But at the end of this August, a deep blue shadow edged nearer and nearer, threatening to turn all Augusts deep and blue and dreary for the rest of history. They were all leaving.

After the chaos of the gold hunting summer, when John B and Sarah finally made it back from the Bahamas with the gold, the Pogues had made a solemn pact to stay in the Outer Banks together, and they took it very seriously. Then came graduation and talk of going to college. The constant, “What are you going to do with your life?” questions wore them down. John B, Sarah, and Pope took a gap year, but Pope’s parents had threatened his life if he changed his school plans, especially after he “won a scholarship” from the mysterious “Denmark Tanny Education Grant” - in other words, his secret savings account. Sarah started talking about becoming a social worker, while John B wouldn’t shut up about the police academy and honoring Sheriff Peterkin’s memory. Kiara also talked about her plans, the Peace Corps, or volunteering in Thailand, and though she made it sound like that was years down the road, everyone knew she was getting restless. So, as summer approached, the Pogues had had a serious meeting about the future, or as serious as you can be at eighteen-almost-nineteen. They absolved the pact to stay in the Outer Banks, but they kept strict communication rules: regular updates in the group chat, facetime sessions at least weekly, and frequent visits. And so plans were made; John B and Sarah were moving to Chapel Hill at the end of August so she could attend the University of North Carolina (John B had considered getting a degree in law enforcement, but had decided to work until he was old enough to apply for the police academy). Pope was headed off to Duke to study forensic pathology like he had always dreamed. Frequent jokes were cracked about them attending rival schools, but at least they’d live within thirty minutes of each other. Kiara’s plans involved a little more distance. She had decided to volunteer her way through Europe for a few months once the tourist season was over. She had one-way tickets booked for the middle of September, and she hadn’t mentioned her plans to return as of yet. JJ was the only one without any plans. It came as no surprise that he hadn’t graduated high school, he never attended. Instead, he got a job at a local auto shop his cousin owned. He was lucky they hired him, and though the pay wasn’t phenomenal, it was enough he could pay rent to John B and Uncle T and stay in the Chateau without tapping into his savings. He joked that you couldn’t pay him to leave the Outer Banks, though that felt like a lie. Especially now that summer was ending and these dreams were becoming a reality for everyone else. 

“One last kegger!” John B was saying. JJ tried not to wince at that word: last. 

“Pogues for life!” Kiara whooped, jumping up and threatening to flip the hammock she was sharing with JJ and Pope. 

Pope wrestled the half-finished beer from her hands. “I think you’ve had enough of that.”

Kiara dove across him clumsily, trying to recover the bottle. Almost-drunk Kie was more comfortable around Pope. After their kiss that one summer, things had gotten awkward fast as she realized she didn’t have any romantic feelings for him. They had fought hard to get their relationship back to the easy-going friendship it had been, but it hadn’t made a full recovery - unless one or both of them was drunk. 

“Easy tiger,” JJ said, pulling her back into her spot between himself and Pope. 

She gave him an odd look. “You’re not drunk.”

“No, I have work in the morning.”

“When did JJ become the most mature?” Sarah slurred. She really hadn’t had that many drinks, but then again she was a total lightweight. 

“What do you say, Oh Mature One?” John B shifted so he was looking directly at JJ. “Kegger tomorrow night at the Boneyard?”

“Hell, yeah!” JJ settled back into the hammock, not really thinking about the fact that his arm was still around Kiara’s waist.

The rest of the Pogues whooped in agreement, downing their drinks and reaching for more.

***

JJ woke up five full minutes before the alarm on his phone went off the next morning. Kiara’s feet were in his face and she was snoring softly, as she tended to do when drunk. The slight headache pulsing through his temples told him he had had more to drink than he should have despite going to bed before the rest of the group, which was probably why he didn’t remember Kie crashing in his bed. He threw a blanket across her and made his way to the bathroom. He could see Sarah and John B wrapped around each other in their room, and in the other room, Pope passed out on the pull-out. Just like old times, he thought with a pang of nostalgia.

As he got ready for work and made breakfast JJ found himself getting more excited about the party they’d have that evening, despite his initial apprehension. Though the Pogues were over at the Chateau almost every night this summer, they hadn’t had a real hang at the Boneyard in a while. Maybe one last summer hurrah really would lessen the sting of the Pogues parting ways.

JJ hadn’t bothered with being quiet that morning. Most of the Pogues were deep sleepers. Add alcohol to the mix and he doubted he’d wake anyone up, so it was a surprise when Kiara wandered bleary-eyed and half-asleep down the hall. “Look who decided to make an appearance!” JJ said.

“Shh,” Kie groaned. “No speaking, just coffee.”

JJ obediently handed over his mug of coffee and set about pouring a new one. Kiara hugged the cup close and sank to the floor, sitting conveniently in the exact center of the kitchen. She was wearing one of his sweatshirts - but she always stole all the guys’ clothes. 

“Jeez, Kiara, could you choose a more inconvenient spot, maybe?” She simply squinted up at him from the floor in response. “You’re in pretty bad shape, hope you don’t have work today.”

“Shit!” she cried. “What time is it?”

“Almost ten.”

“I have to be at work at ten,” she groaned. “My dad’s gonna kill me if I show up late and hungover.”

“Need a ride over there?” JJ asked.

“It won’t make you late, will it?”

“‘Course not,” he lied.

“You’re the best!” she jumped up clumsily and kissed him on the cheek before stumbling her way back down the hall to freshen up. She was more or less ready within five minutes, opting to keep on JJ’s sweatshirt, paired with yesterday’s shorts. “How do I look?” she asked, shoving on sunglasses and reaching for a second cup of coffee.

“Hot.”

“Liar. Let’s go.”

They arrived at the Wreck, and JJ asked, as Kiara jumped out of the van, “When do you get off?”

“Four-thirty. Dad might make me stay longer to make up for showing up late, though.”

“I can’t get back here till five.”

“Okay, that’s cool. See you then! Thanks for the ride!” She downed the last of her coffee and chucked the travel mug into the back of the van through the window. She was still off-balance as she ran up to the door. JJ watched until she was inside. Today was going to go by so slowly, he could feel it. 

***

The day ended up dragging by for everyone. There was usually quite a bit of work at the auto shop, but today was abnormally slow. The same went for the Wreck; as they approached the end of tourist season, their business dropped considerably. When five o’clock finally rolled around, Kiara dropped everything and bolted. JJ was just pulling into the parking lot, followed closely by John B and Sarah on JJ’s bike. “Pope’s meeting us there a little later!” Sarah called. She raised an eyebrow as Kiara approached, noticing JJ’s sweatshirt. 

John B was trading off keys with JJ, “Sarah and I are going to pick up the kegs; meet you there?”

Despite the earliness, a few kids were milling around when the crew arrived, mostly Tourons. JJ and Kiara started a bonfire and kicked the party off with some of his cousin’s “cripple.” As it got later more and more people showed up, still mostly Tourons and other kids from the Cut, but a few Kooks made an appearance. Tensions still ran high between Kooks and Pogues, but if beer and weed were offered, they were pretty much willing to put aside their differences. The sun began to set, while the party began to heat up. Someone had brought a speaker and was blasting some obnoxious club mixes; people were dancing. 

Sarah made her way over to the fire where Kiara was beginning to relax thanks to the joint in her hand. She’d had a few drinks at this point and was pleasantly buzzed. She tried to take the joint from Kiara but was pushed away. “You puke when you’re crossfaded, Sar!” 

“I do not! Besides, I’m not even drunk.”

Kiara just laughed. Sarah plopped down next to her best friend and wrapped her arm around her. “I’m gonna miss you, Kie.”

“I’ll miss you, too. But don’t get emotional on me. Tonight we’re just having fun!” Kie put out her joint and threw it in the fire. Someone walking by handed the girls another drink. 

“So,” Sarah wiggled her eyebrows and tugged on the sleeve of Kie’s - JJ’s - sweatshirt. “You and JJ?”

“Me and JJ, what?”

“Did you hook up?” Tipsy Sarah was even blunter and to the point than sober Sarah. 

“God, no!” Kie couldn’t tell if the blood rushing to her face was due to the alcohol, the fire, or something else. “Why would you think that?”

“You’re wearing his clothes!”

“I’ve stolen clothes from all the guys, including your boyfriend! It doesn’t mean anything.”

Sarah hummed, half in disbelief. She decided not to fully change the subject. “Have you asked him yet?”

“Mm?” Kie hummed. “Oh… no. I don’t think he’ll want to go.” When Kie had realized JJ would be the only Pogue left in the Outer Banks this fall, she’d decided to ask him if he wanted to join her in Europe. She knew he had talked a big game about running away to Yucatan at sixteen, and perhaps he’d like to see a bit of the world. It’s not like they were strapped for cash, or he really needed his job at the auto shop. Even though they’d had to turn over most of the gold when John B and Sarah brought it back from the Bahamas, the crew had managed to hide enough of it away that they were pretty much set. The jobs they held were more for appearances, and so their parents didn’t ask too many questions. 

“Of course he’ll want to go! Even if he doesn’t, worst-case scenario is he says no, and you go alone like you were already planning.” Sarah watched as Kie started chewing on her lower lip like she did when she was anxious. “Unless you don’t want to go alone?”

Kiara didn’t want to admit it, but she really didn’t want to travel by herself. She could take care of herself just fine and she enjoyed her alone time, but she’d never left the country before, and the thought of being so far from home with no one familiar around was starting to worry her. Just a little bit. She downed another beer and reached for another joint, saying lightly, “No I’m totally fine!”

“She says as she gets totally smashed,” Sarah muttered under her breath. Kie had gotten up and dragged a random Touron girl to dance with her. 

Kiara’s tolerance was pretty high when it came to intoxicating substances, she rivaled JJ, though he wouldn’t admit it. By the time Sarah had joined her she was quite relaxed, so when she’d decided to dance she was well on her way to wasted, the combination of weed and beer making her a little dizzy. As she spun around with the pretty redhead in front of her, she caught sight of JJ standing way too close to a girl who was obviously there with her boyfriend. Kie fought the urge to roll her eyes until she noticed the boyfriend was equally fascinated with whatever bullshit JJ was spilling. She laughed to herself; leave it to JJ to flirt with a girl and get her boyfriend thrown in the mix, too. Somehow the thought of JJ flirting with someone else bothered her, but she chalked it up to the anxiety of asking him to go traveling with her. She called out for more beer. 

JJ was having an alright time. He’d drank much less than he normally did, and he hadn’t even touched the joint in his pocket. The party he had been so excited for was setting him on edge for a reason he couldn’t quite place. His mind kept wandering back to the ride over to the Boneyard, with Kiara clinging to his waist as he took the backroads on his bike... There was a cute Touron girl talking to him and he allowed himself to flirt back until she introduced him to her boyfriend. He was always wary of boyfriends, and for once he really didn’t want to start a fight, so it was surprising when the boyfriend started flirting back. Shit. JJ thought and tried to back the hell out of that situation, a situation he normally would have been dying to jump into. He was two seconds from bolting just to get away from them, when Pope stumbled up, crashing into him drunkenly. 

“Dude, you’re wasted!” JJ chuckled gratefully, pulling his less-than-sober friend away from the Tourons. “How much have you had to drink?” 

“Enough,” Pope laughed. He was a happy drunk, though JJ could tell he was a moment away from puking. He steered Pope towards the cooler full of non-alcoholic drinks and fished out a water bottle. “Drink all of it,” he demanded. 

Pope complied, first saying, “Kie’s dancing.” JJ had already noticed, of course. The pretty redheaded girl he didn’t recognize had her arms around Kie’s waist and they were passing drinks back and forth, neither of them anywhere near sober. Even drunk, Kie’s dancing was amazing. And she didn’t care who danced with her, she was always looking for a partner. Part of JJ wished he had been closer to her, and maybe she would have pulled him into the dance instead of the other girl. He was pulled away from the scene by the sound of Pope losing his entire dinner. “Shit,” Pope groaned. “I think I’m sticking with Coke for the rest of the night.”

“You do that, man,” JJ laughed. 

The party wore on, but JJ stayed near Pope, making sure he wouldn’t pass out or anything. A nervous-looking girl wandered over, she was obviously not drinking and seemed rather uncomfortable with the whole situation. Pope asked her where she was from and she awkwardly explained that she was here with her sister, who had disappeared. To JJ’s surprise, Pope easily struck up a conversation with the girl, and she actually seemed interested in the crap he usually talked about - dead bodies and such. She actually knew a fair amount about forensics, studied it for a year or something. JJ decided to leave the two of them to their weird fascination with cadavers. He caught sight of Kie again, still with the redhead girl, though not really dancing anymore as much as stumbling aimlessly and laughing obnoxiously. JJ couldn’t remember the last time he had seen her that drunk. 

Kiara saw JJ standing at the edge of the group of teens dancing. “JJ!” She cried wildly. She tugged the girl she was with along, “This is my bes’ frien’, you hafta meet him.” As she got closer, she waved, “J - JJ! Hi!”

She fell into him. He pulled her upright, saying, “Hey, Kie.”

“JJ! This is my friend! She’s so pretty. She’s..shit, wha’s your name?”

“Leah,” the girl giggled, in a North Carolina accent. She was as drunk as Kie. “OMG, y’all are too cute! She hasn’t stopped talking about you all night! I kinda thought I’d get to take her home with me, but not with you hangin’ around…” She trailed off with a boisterous laugh. She pulled a pen out of her pocket, grabbed Kiara’s arm, and started scribbling a phone number. “If you ever get bored with him, text me!”

“She’s so nice,” Kiara gushed. “So pretty. Her hair looks like the sunset, and she danced ama-amazing. Amazingly? Do you say amazing or amazingly? She smelled nice, too. Like strawberries.”

“Kie, how much have you had to drink?” Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes unfocused, her speech slurring more by the second. 

“Dunno…” she whispered, too loudly. JJ took her arm and moved to lead her away from the crowd, back to where Pope was still chatting with his new friend, but she pushed him away. “Can do it myself!” She said belligerently, taking a few faltering steps, and promptly tripping over a stray piece of driftwood and falling hard into the sand. She laid in a crumpled heap, not bothering to move.

JJ rushed to her side, cursing himself for letting her get this bad. He made her sit up, and asked, “Did you hurt yourself?”

Kie nodded tears filling her eyes. She didn’t cry over injuries, so it was either the alcohol in her system, or she’d actually gotten pretty hurt. She put a hand to the side of her head, and JJ noticed a thin line of blood running in between her fingers. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he said. “Let me see.” She’d hit her head on the driftwood as she fell, and though the scrape didn’t look too bad, head wounds did bleed a lot; he just hoped she hadn’t given herself a concussion. “Okay,” he continued. “That’s not so bad. C’mere, let’s clean you up.”

He steadied her as she struggled to her feet, but as soon as she took a step, she cried out. She sank back down to the ground this time clutching her foot. “Fuck,” she muttered. “Think I fucked up my ankle, too.” She’d moved past the happy-friendly-drunk stage, and was headed into angry-drunk territory, or maybe sad-drunk, neither of which JJ wanted to experience at that moment. He knelt to examine her foot, sliding her now-broken sandal off and prodding her ankle. He carefully wiggled her toes and twisted her ankle in various directions, checking for a break. 

“Not broken,” he said finally. “Maybe sprained.”

“Fuck,” she growled - definitely into angry-drunk territory, now. 

“I’m going to take you home-“ JJ started.

“No!” At this, the tears spilled over and down Kie’s cheeks, maybe sad-drunk after all. “No, I’m fucking shitfaced and my parents are going to kill me, especially after being late to work today…”

“Okay, okay. Wanna go to the Chateau instead?”

She nodded, tears still falling, her breathing erratic.

JJ managed to grab a water from the cooler and let Pope know what had happened. The harder task was convincing Kiara to drink the water before they took off on his bike. He would have preferred to take the van, but John B was nowhere to be found, and neither was Sarah. They were probably off getting into trouble somewhere. The bike ride back to the Chateau was surprisingly nice, Kiara still retaining enough sense to cling to JJ’s shirt, even if her balance was off. Once they pulled up to the door, JJ reached to help her dismount. “I can- I can do it myself!” She said.

“That’s what you said before you fucking concussed yourself, Carerra.” He lifted her off the bike easily and tried to set her on the ground, but her eyes fluttered closed and she leaned into him.

“You smell nice,” she muttered.

“Sheesh, Kie, if you wanted to cuddle, you could have just asked. Didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

They’d barely made it to the Chateau’s bathroom when Kie groaned, “Gonna puke.” JJ held her hair as she knelt in front of the toilet.

“Did you mix, Kie?” He asked surprisingly gently. 

She nodded, catching her breath.

“You know better than that.” 

She nodded again. 

“That first-aid kit is still around here, right?”

Kie groaned in response resting her head against the toilet bowl. JJ continued rummaging in the cabinet, before finding a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a small first-aid kit. The cut on her head had almost stopped bleeding, so he started there, wiping it clean with peroxide. He handed her a wad of gauze and guided her hand to hold it to her head. “Hold this,” he said, as her hand started to drop. He placed her hand back on her head. “Hold this here. I’m getting ice.”

JJ returned with two bags of ice, one of which he placed on her rapidly swelling ankle. The other was for her head. He found antiseptic and a large bandage for her head. “How’d you get so good at this?” Kiara slurred.

“Practice,” he said with a grimace.

“Shit… sorry.” JJ hadn’t seen his dad in over a year at this point, but he still had a hard time talking about the things he experienced. Both Pope and Kie had tried to convince him to talk to a professional about his problems without much luck. Still, he had come a long way. 

Once JJ had helped Kie clean up her injuries, he left her to take a shower. She noticed the redhead’s - Leah’s - phone number on her arm, and rolled her eyes with embarrassment; she set about scrubbing it off. When she stepped out of the shower, she saw he had left her a pair of his sweatpants and a t-shirt. She found some toothpaste and fumbled through brushing her teeth with her finger while inspecting herself in the mirror. Her eyes were red-rimmed and glassy, there was a massive bandage on the side of her head, and she was nowhere near sober, so some improvement was needed. Maybe sleep would help. She limped into the living room, her still wet hair dampening the back of the t-shirt and making her shiver. She flopped onto the pull-out, and almost dozed off. 

JJ shook her leg, “Hey, Kie, you hit your head, you can’t sleep yet.”

She groaned as she sat up, “Dammit, Maybank.”

“You’re the one who decided to get totally shitfaced! Tea?” He handed her a hot cup of mint tea.

“Since when do y’all keep tea in this place?” She was grateful for the warmth, the mint soothing her dehydrated throat, and relaxing her.

“Since Sarah.” JJ made a face that, even drunk, Kie knew he didn’t really mean. He climbed onto the pull-out next to her, and she leaned into him, her head on his shoulder. 

“It’s gonna be weird without them…” Kie said, trying to keep her eyes open. 

“Yeah. Maybe I’ll finally get some damn peace and quiet around here,” he said lightly. 

“You won’t get lonely?” Kiara hadn’t meant to shift to that particular topic of conversation, but she was drunk enough she didn’t care. 

“Probably will,” JJ was surprised at his own honesty, but then again, Kiara was so far gone, she probably wouldn’t remember this conversation. 

“Come with me,” she said suddenly, sitting up. 

“What?” JJ laughed nervously.

“To Europe. Come with me.” The words were just spilling out, now. Kie could feel her cheeks burning and decided to blame it on the alcohol, and maybe the tea. “The Outer Banks will always be here when we get back, so why not see the world with me?”

“Kie, you’re drunk,” JJ said slowly. “And you’re hurt, and you’re tired. You don’t really want me to come with you. I’d fuck up all your plans.”

“No, no you wouldn’t!” She made sure to set her cup of tea on the floor, despite the fact she almost fell off the pull-out doing so. Sitting on her knees, she leaned toward him, “JJ, I’ve been wanting to ask you this for a while. I think you’d have fun, and I can’t stand the thought of you staying here alone!”

“Kiara, it’s a really bad idea. Imagine how much damage I could do in another country,” he laughed, though his voice was tight.

“That’s why we’d go together. To keep each other out of trouble and patch each other up when we do get scraped up. We’d have each other.” She was leaning over him now, her face inches from him. 

“Kie, you’re drunk-“ he started again. She closed the last few inches left, and pressed her lips to his, sloppily.

He pushed her away and jumped up. “No,” he said firmly. He started pacing, “Damnit, Carerra, you’re the one always going on about consent, and you’re fucking wasted right now, and do you know how long I’ve been waiting for that-“ he cut himself off. “Fuck! I wish you were sober right now!” 

He took off then, out the back door onto the porch. Through the window, Kie watched him fish a joint out of his pocket along with his lighter. He shakily ran his fingers through his hair and flopped down to sit on the stairs, staring out across the sound. 

Kiara blinked furiously, tears of anger, sadness, embarrassment threatening to spill over. She was not sober, she knew, but she wasn’t that drunk either. The shower and tea had gone a long way to sobering her up. Granted, she probably shouldn’t have relied on the alcohol to get her through that conversation. And kissing him? God, what was I thinking?!

Wiping her eyes, she grabbed the quilt off the pull-out, made another cup of tea, and made her way out to the deck. It was slow going, with her sprained ankle and all, but in a moment she was easing herself down to sit next to JJ. She wrapped the quilt around their shoulders and handed him one of the mugs of tea. She leaned into his side, setting her chin on his shoulder. He tensed but didn’t pull away. 

“Kie-“ he started.

“No, I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have… I am drunk.” 

They sat in silence for a few moments. Between the tea and the joint, JJ had started to unwind. Kie was getting sleepy, each time she blinked her eyes stayed closed for a little longer. “Can we talk about it tomorrow?” She murmured.

“Sure, Kie.” He wrapped his arm around her then. “Yeah, we’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

***

Kiara woke up in JJ’s bed, again. She didn’t remember going to bed or falling asleep, honestly, she didn’t remember going inside at all. The last thing she remembered was the smell of JJ’s shirt, saltwater and bonfire, and weed and dozing off on the porch stairs. She was still wrapped in the quilt from the pull-out, now. Her head and ankle were throbbing, but there was a bottle of painkillers and a glass of water on the nightstand, which she took advantage of. JJ was nowhere to be seen, and the rest of the house was quiet; she wondered if any of the other Pogues had even bothered to come home the night before. On occasion, when a party got really out of hand, they would just crash in the van until they could drive again. As Kie made her way into the kitchen, her suspicions were confirmed, it was still just her and JJ. She smelled coffee. 

“Mornin’,” she said softly. JJ was leaning against the counter, a cup of coffee in one hand, a cigarette in the other. She poured herself a cup of coffee and pulled herself up onto the counter. 

“You sleep well?” JJ asked. 

She nodded.

“Headache?” 

Again, she nodded, then laughed, “This is so fucking domestic, who are we?”

The silence that followed was awkward. Kiara finally broke it, “Listen, about last night…”

“Kiara, I don’t want to-“

“We have to talk about it, J. I’d rather get it over with.” He sighed and gestured for her to continue. 

“Okay,” she began. “I didn’t ask you to come with me to Europe because I was drunk. If I’m honest with myself, I got so drunk because I was nervous to ask you to come with me.”

“Why were you nervous?” JJ hated how small his voice sounded.

“Um, I guess I didn’t want you to say no. I’m kinda nervous to travel by myself and be away from the Pogues for so long.”

“Oh, and I’m the only one without plans, so I’m the only one left to ask.” There was no malice in his voice. It was just a fact.

“No, you were actually my first choice,” she held eye contact with him, willing herself to feel more confident. “Regardless of the others’ plans, I wanted to ask you.”

“Why me, Kie?” He’d put out the cigarette and set down his coffee cup.

She took a deep breath and decided to be honest with him and with herself, for the first time. “Because you’re my best friend, and I can’t stand that I won’t see you for months if I go alone. Because you’re the kindest person I know, despite everything you’ve been through. Because I was so fucking jealous last night when I saw you talking to other people that I got absolutely shitfaced and tried to make you jealous, too, but even then you weren’t, and you were still nice to me. Because when I made a total fool of myself and busted my ass you took care of me. Because even though I made things totally awkward you were still sweet and even carried me to bed, I think, I mean who does that-“

“Kie…”

She continued, “Because even though I waited until I was drunk to kiss you, I’ve been wanting to do that for a fucking long time-“

In two steps, JJ had crossed the kitchen to her and grabbed her face in his hands. He captured her lips with his, almost desperately. When they broke apart, he said, “Kiara, I’ve loved you since we were thirteen.”

“You’ve got me beat, Maybank. I’ve loved you since we were sixteen.” They both chuckled. “What took you so damn long?” She asked.

“Me? What about you? And your stupid, ‘no macking on other Pogues’ rule?”

“Fuck that rule,” she said and pulled him back to her for another kiss. 

“Now that I’m pretty much sober, and only slightly hungover,” she said. “Will you please come with me to Europe?”

“Well, since you’re sober…” he said gently. “I’ll follow you anywhere, Kiara.”

For JJ, August was still full of gold and light and sunsets and new beginnings, and now that he had Kiara, it probably always would be. The Outer Banks and the Pogues would all be there when they returned.

[raleighcarrera]

saturday

ride or die | colt kaneko x mc (ellie wheeler)

~2.2k words | T

baby you look good, you look gorgeous / this right here your city, i’m a tourist

or, alternatively, ellie shows colt around the east coast. for @choicesjunechallenge day one! (wander)

rod tags: @choicesarehard, @lovehugsandcandy

they were invisible, out here. in manhattan, ellie was probably always at least a little invisible, but there was a certain freedom in knowing that absolutely no one was looking twice at him or them -- that they had a whole uninterrupted weekend to explore stretched out ahead of them. 

back home, he was starting to reach a level of notoriety that brought few places he could go without attracting stares with it. the new crew was coming together faster than he thought it would, and colt was admittedly pretty pleased with his progress, so far. when ellie came back home for the summer, there might actually be something to show her. something that might even have a shot at impressing her. 

her anonymity would evaporate as soon as he got the chance to show her off, back in l.a. -- so he figured they might as well take full advantage of this weekend, making the most of their time as nobodies while they still could. 

ellie lifted the hand that wasn’t twined through his and pointed up at a nondescript building on the corner, just a block from her apartment. “this is one of the buildings i have classes in,” she explained, “my biochem lab and my stats class are both in here.”

“you know, if you’d been at my college, maybe i wouldda considered hanging around.” there were few things he cared about less than the ins and outs of her coursework, but the thought of ellie in some lecture hall, with her nose buried in a book was something that never failed to endear him to her. she was almost unfairly cute.

“what, there weren’t any girls you liked in boston?” she asked playfully, shooting him a look as they waited at the corner for the light to turn. 

“there were plenty of girls,” he smirked, “but i wouldn’t say i liked them.” what he means goes unsaid, but he knows ellie is smart enough to read between the lines: she’s the only person to ever do this to him, the only girl he’s actually made room in his life for. 

she’d wormed her way in so effectively he’d hardly even noticed it. try as he might to push her away, she was always there -- challenging him when he did his best to shove her to the side with calculated barbs, comforting him when he didn’t think it was what he wanted at all, caring for him when he hardly felt like deserved it. 

before her, he hadn’t been interested in anything like this. people were always a disappointment -- without fail, anyone who could get close would find a way to take advantage. feeling the way he did about her was messy and painful and not something he was keen on exploring, at first. he knew it’d be a disaster from the moment he met her, but ellie didn’t let herself be deterred by a few casual insults. she dug her fucking heels in and blended into his life seamlessly, until he found himself in a suit dancing with her at her high school prom like an unrecognizable idiot. 

only a moron with no sense of self-preservation would’ve told her they loved her, so of course he had. for the longest time, it felt like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop -- for her to change her mind, for her to do what he’d long since expected and make him regret ever forcing himself to take that step out of his self-imposed isolation and into the sun. 

but ellie was nothing if not a master at proving him wrong -- at making him eat his words. at defying the expectations of everyone around her, including him, sometimes, when he was dumb enough to underestimate her.

the way she was tugging on their clasped hands recaptured his attention, shaking him out of his reverie. “this place has the best dollar pizza. there’s, like, forty pizzerias within a ten-minute walk but this one is the best and cheapest. during midterms i ate here twice a day for two weeks straight.”

“sounds like you’re getting spoiled,” he remarked, dropping her hand to wrap his arm around her shoulders, instead, pulling her in close on the sidewalk. “what’re you gonna do when it’s back to l.a. burgers and tacos all the time?”

“i do kinda miss the street food,” she mused, leaning against his side. he’d been all over her last night, when he first arrived, relearning the curve of her body with his hands and his mouth over and over again, hardly able to get enough of her after so long without the real thing. pictures and videos and late-night facetimes were all well and good, but nothing could make his heart leap like pulling her into his arms in person. finally.

he still hadn’t had his fill, but she was adamant about showing him around the city, so -- they got out of bed. and even if they stayed inside all weekend, colt was certain they still wouldn’t be able to get through even half of everything he wanted to do to her.

“oh!” she exclaimed suddenly, guiding him to the right with the arm she had around his waist. he dipped his head on a smile he just couldn’t hold back when she slipped her hand into the back pocket of his jeans. “this was what i wanted to show you, come on.”

they ducked into an alcove between what looked like two office buildings. there was a small fountain and a few abandoned tables -- for a moment, they were completely alone, under an arch of spring flowers that provided a brief respite from the bustle of midtown, waiting for them just beyond the sidewalk. 

“i always come here to study. i feel like it’s so peaceful.” ellie was smiling up at the flowers, hardly paying him any attention -- so colt took a moment to let himself look, studying the sweet expression on her face with a smile. it’d been so long that he’d almost forgotten how beautiful she was, if that was even possible. but seeing her here, now, was like a kick to the stomach; she knocked the wind out of him just by doing nothing, just by being herself -- every goddamn time.

“it’s pretty cool,” he agreed, forcefully tearing his eyes from her to look around, too. “i mean -- we’re alone, so.”

ellie laughed, turning under his arm to face him. “is that all it takes for you?”

colt shrugged the shoulder she wasn’t tucked under, shooting her a wide grin. “what can i say? i’m a simple guy.”

“well -- we knew that.” she squirmed away giggling as he pushed her playfully in retaliation, rushing over to the far side of the fountain. colt followed, stepping up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, burying his face in the side of her neck.

he exhaled. there weren’t words for how relaxing it was to know he didn’t need to look over his shoulder, here, with her. for once, there was almost nothing on his mind -- just the blissful peace of a weekend spent with his favorite person. some of the leaden weight that seemed to be perpetually pushing on his shoulders was slowly starting to ease as he stood there with her, under the curtain of the peonies above them.

colt fished in his pocket for a quarter, offering it to her. “wanna make a wish?” 

ellie took it from his hand immediately. “you’re getting soft on me,” she murmured, huffing out a small sound of amusement when he nipped at the side of her neck in return. colt hooked his chin over her shoulder, watching as she flipped the coin into the fountain. 

“what’d you wish for?” he asked, just so he could see her do what she did, which was spin around indignantly in his hold, scoffing.

“i can’t tell you! then it won’t come true.”

he rolled his eyes at her. “that rule isn’t real.”

“well, i don’t want to risk it.” 

colt lifted both hands to her face, cupping her cheeks and drawing her in for a slow kiss. ellie melted against him prettily, as responsive as ever -- how sensitive she was never failed to light a fire somewhere within him that he had trouble ignoring. the little sigh that slipped from her mouth into his felt like water after walking through a desert, and he swallowed it greedily, tilting her face up with fingers at her jaw for an angle that would allow him to deepen their kiss insistently. 

ellie entertained him until she had to break away to breathe. he backed off at the first push of her hands, the expression on his face splitting into an obnoxious grin as soon as he noticed the light flush spreading out across her nose, creeping onto her cheeks. the way her nose turned red every time they made out, without fail, would probably never stop being absurdly appealing to him.

that was another annoying thing she’d done to him. colt constantly found his brain getting stuck on the most absurd shit, where she was concerned. things he’d never even thought about before, like an errant lock of hair, curling into her eyes, or the flash of a bare shoulder when her oversized sweater slipped down suddenly seemed more erotic than porn, just because it was her. 

“you’re gorgeous,” he mumbled, pressing his thumbs into her flushed cheeks. “i can’t stand it.”

ellie was still working to catch her breath, instilling him with a sense of pride he didn’t bother trying to push away. “sorry. i can try to work on that.”

“you’d better.” his eyes dropped to where her hands were fisted in the front of his sweatshirt, clinging tightly to him like she was afraid he’d slip away at any moment. colt could feel the expression on his face soften the longer he watched her, the pounding of his heart ratcheting up dangerously when she licked her lips and glanced up at him seriously.

“i’m really glad you’re here,” she said finally, shattering the sudden stillness that seemed to have surrounded them -- in the middle of manhattan, of all places. “you have no idea how badly i missed you.”

colt’s thumb stroked her cheek. he was pretty sure he had some idea. “you’re sure i can’t convince you to transfer, right? ‘cause... ucla is, like, a twenty minute drive on my bike --”

ellie laughed. the sweet trill of sound did little to temper his racing pulse. “shut up, come on. there’s so much more i want to show you.”

he let her spend the rest of the day playing tour guide, pulling him around the city, until they’d eventually wandered into some unfamiliar neighborhood downtown, far enough away from the main avenues that the foot traffic on the sidewalk was considerably less. finally, they could take their time, instead of ducking out of the way to avoid the rushing speed of people in a hurry, ignoring glares from busy new yorkers disgusted by the way they kept stopping to kiss in the middle of the crosswalk. 

colt bought her an ice cream cone because her excitement was too cute to ignore, grinning to himself as he snuck glances over at her, enjoying it. it was going to be pretty much impossible to tear himself away from her on sunday night, but he was trying not to think about that.

“anything special you want to do tonight?” she asked between licks, drawing his eyes to the way her wrist flicked to keep the swirl of vanilla soft serve even all the way around. 

“i have a few ideas.” she caught sight of the smirk on his face and rolled her eyes. “i’m open to suggestions, though.”

“well -- i did have a place in mind for dinner,” she said, though he hardly heard her over the way she licked a trail of melting ice cream from her wrist, “and then i thought we could walk around some more... and turn in early.”

“you know, that’s exactly what i was thinking,” he answered with an agreeable grin, already fantasizing about just how late she’d allow him to keep her up and all the things he could do to her with several uninterrupted hours holed away in her single. a part of him he did his best to ignore most of the time was also already dreaming about the inevitable lazy sunday morning that would follow, when he could wake up with her for the second time in too fucking long and put all his energy into keeping her in bed until the last possible minute. 

that guy was such a sap.

“should i be afraid of that look?” ellie questioned with a smile, the happy expression on her face doing wonders for his already calm mood. they continued slowly down the street in a direction that he thought might’ve been back towards her dorm, though once they dipped below the numbered streets all sense of navigation seemed to abandon him. whatever. it wasn’t like they didn’t have time to wander aimlessly some more, and he wasn’t too proud to admit he loved getting lost with ellie by his side.

colt grinned unabashedly at her, watching her finish off her ice cream cone with a few bites. fuck it. they were invisible here, so why not let himself indulge that other guy? once he was back in l.a., all of this was done for -- he’d be back to his rough edges like they never softened in the first place.

“nah,” he promised, reaching out for her again and pulling her in close, dropping a kiss onto her temple. “we’ll carb you up at dinner. you’ll make it through.”

[v0n-butch]

playing hooky

“Now a fun one... eleven and eighteen.” requested by @fortheloveofhargrove​

#11: “We could get arrested for this.”

#18: “Watch me.” from dialogue prompts

warning(s): alcohol, swearing

a/n: i love these prompts so much. hope you dig it !

—

You swore that you knew better than this.

You’d like to think you were raised right and had enough self respect to not fall under peer pressure like everybody else always did in cheesy high school movies or real life. Maybe right now you’re about to ditch the so-called ‘good girl’ philosophy, or handbook or whatever the fuck it was, to be free from the constraints that high school labels always puts on girls like you. Those bullshit stereotypes about smart girls that actually care about grades and education, saying that they’re all just bummers with no experience that will never learn how to let loose. Well, you’re through with all of it. It felt as if there had always been this hidden lingering temptation that was just itching to be unleashed, it just needed the right push, from the right somebody.

When the very chief, cliché bad boy Billy Hargrove himself approached you himself in the halls on a regular soul-crushing Monday, you wanted to prove not only to him but also to yourself that you were not this cookie cutter mold of a person. You were just as capable of crazy as anybody else is. So fuck him for underestimating you, and double fuck him if he was gonna laugh in your face when you said so.

“Of course I know what it’s like to have fun,” you defend, pointing your finger at him for emphasis at the arrogant blonde that had been ridiculing you far too long during passing periods at school everyday. He went further than usual today in particular, calling you ‘Plain Jane’ and ‘sugarpuss’ just to get a rise out of you, unknowingly setting off the ticking time bomb. “In fact, I’m the one who fucking invented fun, asshole.”

Billy widens his eyes comically as he takes the cigarette that had been tucked behind his ear and puts it between his lips.

“So, little kitten does have some scratch in her, doesn’t she? Who would’ve known,” he asks rhetorically, sarcasm lacing his tone as his fingers work to drag a little red match across the matchbox. Just as he was about to burn up with the audacity to smoke inside, at school for Christ’s sake, Mr. Jameson from wood workshop snags it from Billy’s mouth as he passes by you both in the hallway.

“No smoking inside, Hargrove!”

Billy turns his head with attitude to the teacher that just walked away with one of his precious cigarettes. How could he be that surprised of the consequences, you had no idea how thick his skull really was.

“I still have another one in my pocket you know!” he calls out, taking out the mentioned extra pack he kept in his jacket pocket as he shouted obnoxiously across the hall, catching the attention of everyone else scrambling to get to class.

“Lung cancer can wait another day!” Mr. Jameson reprimands the teen, pausing at the door of his destined classroom. “Get to class, Hargrove. And leave the poor girl alone,” Jameson pities you, probably wondering just what the fuck a girl like you, the polar opposite of Billy, was doing chatting and wasting time with him in the hallway.

“Yeah? I’m shaking in my boots over here, Mister J. And she could leave if she wants to, she’s a big girl,” he says, eyeing you as the words leave his mouth. You’d been impatiently standing there, somewhat annoyed yet entertained by the exchange with a tight lipped smile, still holding your usual boat load of books. Billy can see that you’re pissed because you think he’s misjudged you, but for fuck’s sake, it’s like you don’t even know that there are lockers at school for a reason. You’re practically begging to get made fun of, and Billy’ll be damned if he doesn’t take the bait, see where it leads him. Maybe you’ll surprise him, or maybe he’ll surprise you.

“You done flirting with school staff?” you raise your brows, pointing your thumb back towards Jameson’s classroom. Billy chuckles at your wit, eyes glazing down your fitted schoolgirl-esque sweater, daring to guess what’s hidden underneath it. As well as what’s really under your carefully crafted bitchy persona. It’s so easy to get you kicking and screaming, he plans on using that to persuade you further to him.

“Are you? Don’t think I can’t see the way you looked at ‘em, batting those cute little eyelashes, maybe even bending over in class to—“

You stop him from going further into his detailed imagery with a gag noise spewing from your lips and a hand raised to get him to please shut up already. “Okay, gross. I used to be best friends with his daughter in middle school.”

Billy chuckles at that, then continues on with his weird ass fantasy. “Makes you a dirty bird then, doesn’t it?”

“Fuck off. You’re disgusting,” you step closer into his personal space bubble, shoving one of your books into his chest resulting in him pretending it hurt like a drama queen. After another roll of your eyes, he’s satisfied with how much he’s annoyed you then wants to remind you of what he’d asked.

“You never did answer me, you know.”

“About what, genius?” you fix your hair, fidgeting under the pressure of his earlier proposition. You’d hoped he had forgotten he even asked and move on to pull the pigtails of the next girl that strolled by. Clearly he hadn’t, to your dismay.

“‘Bout you playing a little hooky, comin’ with me. Get to see how the other half lives,” he offers, pulling yet another item out of his pocket, and of course it’s a toothpick. He always needed something in his mouth when he’s talking to you.

“Where would we even go?”

He plays with the toothpick in his teeth, flicking his tongue over the stick before answering. “Anywhere. Wherever you want. But if you can’t think of somethin’ to do, I have my usual hiding spots. No one would find us.”

This is the part where the cartoon devil and angel on your shoulder fight, the good side of you worried about what trouble he’d be dragging you into. The bad side tells you that it’s about damn time you do something out of the ordinary, something you’re not supposed to. This time, for the very first time in your life, the devil won.

“Fine. Let’s do it. But I’m not going ‘cause I wanna be your little girlfriend or whatever, this is just because I’m bored, and... and I do know how to have fun,” you declare, staring at your clean Converse as your palms start to sweat from nerves. Just what the fuck are you getting yourself into? It’s your grave that you’re digging here. But why would anybody pass this opportunity up? The only lame excuse you could come up with for the imaginary angel shaking it’s head in disapproval for being defeated was that he was as hot as he was charming, and you felt like you’d been held at gunpoint to resist. You were weak, and you can admit it now. So fuck you if you can’t break bad for once.

Billy licks his lips in triumph, grinning like he finally caught the mouse that had been eyeing the peanut butter in the trap far too long, and had just now decided to take a lick and get sucked in.

“Well alright, little lady. Glad to hear it. Your chariot awaits outside,” he jingles his keys with his fingers, not waiting any longer as he eagerly struts out of the building, with you meekly trailing not far behind him.

—

Billy knew he’d get you to crack. Delighted that he’d get to pop your skipping class cherry, he unlocked his Camaro and even took the time to open the passenger’s door for you. After looking at him in disbelief for a beat, he raises his brows and beckons you further to get in. Something akin to a strange man telling you to get in the car, with a promised bribe of candy and puppies.

“What was it you said back there, that you invented fun? C’mon, think of it as an adventure, like in all those books you read or whatever.”

Yeah, in all those books you read with circumstances like these, something stupid always happens. You’re still on the edge of willing to take that chance, with the voice of every adult that’s every lectured you to not go out with strange boys. Fuck it, maybe something good will come out of this.

You sigh in defeat, done fighting with yourself before giving the ground a shy smile, letting out a quiet “Yeah, I guess.” Getting strapped in with your seatbelt, because safety first, you tightly clutch the several books that had stayed in your grasp like a vice. You’re still quite apprehensive, but there should be no problem in maybe needing a little more convincing. Billy feels like he won the lottery, hopping in and enthusiastically starting the engine up before zooming out of the school parking lot. He even tells you you can pick any music tape in his entire collection to play, which he almost never lets anybody do. However, you’d declined the playing of any music, stubbornly staring out the window at the views passing by. Billy is still determined to get you out of your comfort zone, and if music won’t do it, there must be some radical adventure you’d be excited for that will.

“How ‘bout a movie? You gotta like some genre. Everybody likes movies,” he tells you, still driving aimlessly with no destination in mind for the two of you yet.

“What kind’s your favorite?” Billy wonders aloud, seeing as though you could be a secret cult-loving, horror flick addict, or maybe even a hopeless romantic. He likes the idea of you snuggled up in the theatre munching on popcorn as you watch Invasion of the Body Snatchers, or maybe even Sixteen Candles. That would be a fucking sight to see.

“Uh, all of them. I like all movies.”

“Yeah? How ‘bout the new Ghostbusters? Heard it’s the next classic—“

“I don’t know anymore, Billy. Maybe... maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” you overthink, chewing on your lip from the anxiety that had been eating you away. This is against the rules, and according to your routine, you should be in class right now. The whole idea of this ridiculous outing was just some heat of the moment, fortuitous decision that you’re beginning to regret right now.

Meanwhile, Billy makes a frustrated scoffing sound at you for already wanting to give the fun up. He could’ve easily been mistaken by the connection you two shared through your playful banter, now just passing it off as weak flirting which you clearly didn’t reciprocate.

“Fine. Let’s just go back to school then. Why not, right? Listen to the boring old fuck of a bogus dude like Jameson. He’ll probably scream at us ‘cause we’ll be fifteen minutes late, then the cherry on top being a pink slip to show your folks at home.” Billy had been looking over at you as he ranted, then back to the road to find a place to pull over. He’s already tired trying to make you comfortable when your mind was set on staying uncomfortable. “Your folks’ll really love that. Wait ‘til they find out that I was the one that convinced you to come—“

“Shut the hell up, alright!” you finally snap, throwing your arms in the air and in turn making the tower of textbooks fall with a loud thunk to the floor. Billy is shocked at your outburst, now intently engaged in what you have to say. “You act like you know me, but you don’t, alright? Nobody does. Not my parents, not Jameson, and certainly not you either, pal.”

Billy calls bullshit on that one, letting out a menacing chuckle before judging you harder.

“Oh yeah? I don’t know you, yeah right. I think I really fuckin’ do, actually. You’re just some priss, yet another snobby little girl with a broken little heart, not to mention the ginormous stick up her ass—“

“I do not have a stick up my ass.”

“Do too.”

“Nuh-uh, assface!”

Billy sighs dramatically at the childish banter you’re still keeping up, now finding a lonely space where he can stop the car and really get under your skin, prove you wrong. Because he thinks he really does know your type. He kills the engine as he turns to you.

“Yeah, sweetheart? Wanna prove me wrong? Why don’t you open the glovebox and take out what’s inside. Go on.” he instructed, looking to you and then the glove compartment expectedly. You try masking your hesitance with false confidence before going for it, pulling the lever open and finding what looks like a decent hand-held size bottle. Curious, you look closer and read the sticker on the front, observing the bronze liquid that’s filled a good halfway up. “If you know how to have fun, why don’tcha try taking a swig?” he nods to the bottle, biting his lip in excitement the show you’ll likely put on. He briefly worries for a moment that you’ll actually do it, but that thought is quickly stored away after seeing your reaction upon unscrewing the cap and sticking your tongue out in disgust at the heavy stench. Billy’s sure that there’s no way you had the balls, thinking this test will more likely prove his point that you’re all bark no bite. You regain your composure before speaking.

“Oh, I could so drink this. You’re making this way too easy, man.” Billy chuckles at your crass attempt at trying to sound cool to impress him. “What’s so funny, huh? Think I won’t?” you raise your voice defensively, gesturing to the swirl of what’s left in the bottle. Billy can’t hold in his revolting laughter anymore as he holds his stomach and slaps the steering wheel.

“I’m sorry, but you’ve got to be kidding me,” he pretends to wipe a tear from his eye. “Ah, that was some comedy gold right there. Thanks, Y/N. I didn’t know how bad I really needed that.”

After sitting and listening to his whole schtick about how hilarious the idea of you misbehaving is, you’ve been riled up to the point of clenching your fists at your sides. Steam might as well be shooting out from your ears. Of course he’s exactly like the rest of them, the bullying, ridiculing, and constant underestimating.

“Oh yeah? Well if you don’t believe me, then...” you lick your lips, taunting him with a filthy, no-good glare as he grows weary under the tension, “Watch me.”

You’d taken the bottle and swallowed your pride, giving the finger to everyone who expected you to stay impossibly innocent forever, then gulped at least a mouthful from the bottle. It felt freakishly foreign and warm as it went down, settling deep down your belly and the aftertaste stinging your tastebuds. The bottle’s contents had diminished significantly from the dent you put in, and Billy can’t believe anything he’s seeing with his own two eyes. It’s the first time he’d been stunned to silence, with the late reaction of snatching the bottle away from you before you could poison yourself, or do more damage than what has already been done.

“You’ve — you gotta be fucking kidding me! That didn’t just happen. That did not just happen,” he stumbles, furrowing his brows and throwing an arm in the air in utter disbelief, while his other holds the bottle like a baby, keeping it hidden away from you. “Holy shit, Y/N! I said a swig, not whatever you just did!” he scolds, eyes as wide and frightened like a goddamn cartoon.

Meanwhile, you’d been coughing up a storm having chocked from some of the liquor going down the wrong pipe then cringing at the leftover taste bleaching your mouth. Your head feels whoozy, not that the liquor’s kicked in quite yet.

“That tastes like gasoline,” you point to where Billy has white-knuckled the bottle in his hands, making damn sure you don’t pull that move again. It was his fault, though, and the guilt is stalling right beside his mind for the chaos that has yet to come. He was the one pushing your buttons, pressuring you just as much as everybody else, ultimately making you so tired of it to the point of drowning yourself with the rest of his backup bottle of Smirnoff he kept for safekeeping.

“Yeah, no fucking kidding. That’s why you gotta sip it!” he runs his fingers through his curls stressfully, having burdened himself with carrying the responsibility of taking care for this poor almost-drunk girl in his car. Of course you’d try overcompensating by downing an outrageous amount and being smug about it. He guessed you’d never drank anything before, or at least that’s the only logical explanation as to why you were surprised at how vile the taste had been. Drinkers often know how shitty the taste is, and use a chaser to get rid of the vomit-inducing touch it leaves.

“You people drink that garbage for fun?” you snort, not understanding the slightest bit of why someone would do that to themselves willingly.

Billy rubs his eyes frustratingly, then safeguards the vodka from your reach as he starts up the engine again and pulls out from where you two were parked.

“Yeah, well, it hasn’t hit you yet. You’ll know why when it does.”

—

Half an hour later, Billy had gotten over the stress of being the one responsible for your drunkenness, now just sitting and listening to the weird shit you’re rambling on about. Of course you’d be a lightweight given your inexperience in the matter, but with how much and in such short time, you were an adorable mess. He thinks it’s sorta cute the way she slurs and jumps from one topic change to the next, such as her opinions on how uninteresting Star Wars is right to how sexy she thinks Corey Haim is. The vastly different ideas mingling together all in one conversation nearly gives the boy whiplash, but he can’t help loving it.

“Oooh, oh! Stop the car. I said stop the car! There’s a lake here, we gotta get out,” you rush, poking the window and even shoving your face up excitedly and fogging it up with your breath.

“Why do we have to—“

“No questions!”

Billy holds his hands up in surrender, not believing that he’s really taking orders from a blasted schoolgirl on her first time ever skipping class. School ended awhile ago, but you’ve yet to mention wanting to go home. Although the teen would like to know you’re getting there safely and not getting into any shit with your parents (if they’re anything like his), he’s still up for granting you your first good time.

Pulling in to the deserted area, Billy puts his Camaro in park and getting out, watching as you fumble to unlock your door and nearly fall out in a fit of giggles. He shakes his head at you with an involuntary grin, then scratches the back of his neck as he wonders just what you’re planning to do here. He then catches you when you’re about to fall for the second time getting out, your palms grabbing at his chest and nearly falling to your knees. A smile has still plastered his expression, unable to keep his poker face at the joy you are when you’re drunk.

“This is your first time drinkin’, isn’t it?” he asks, holding you and keeping you upward because you couldn’t walk in a straight line to save your life right about now.

“Whaddya think Popeye? Oh wait, I remember what you think, ‘cuz you told me so! Didn’t it go something like... you’d strongly argue that there’s a giant stick up my ass?” you put your finger to your temple and hum, pretending to think. “Well no one as boring as that would do this,” you exclaim, moving your arms down and doing a drunken cartwheel on the dirty ground. Billy quickly acts, going to pull you back up to stop you from laying down any longer on the gross pavement. When he does, you yank his arms towards where you lay, resulting in him foolishly landing on top of you. You’d yelled ”TIMBER!” while he’d let out a squawk sound at your surprising strength.

“Y’know, I think I offically figured out why people drink gasoline so much,” you point out, getting ready to give him your analysis on your liquor consumption.

“It’s Smirnoff actually, but go on,” Billy smiles and waits for you to keep going on yet another drunk tangent.

“It’s b’cause like, I feel the ground moving real fast. I can feel the way that earth is rotating on it’s axis, like what Jameson talked about in class,” you’ve put your palms to the ground as you spewed, putting your ear down as if to listen to it moving. You suddenly picked yourself up, swingy as you quickly lost balance and using Billy’s hand as a way to stay off the floor.

“I already know you think I’m this bogus loser with bogus friends and does nothin’ but bogus homework all the time, but, I think you’re opposite. You’re cool. Too cool for school. You’re this daring dreamboat, this cliché heartthrob that picks on girls and hands them a bottle and says, ’drink up!’” you conclude the statement, slapping his thigh with another roar of laughter tumbling out from your mouth. Everything is so indescribably funny, and you barely ever laugh at anything anymore, so you’re having the time of your life not holding anything in like you usually have to. Billy, in contrast to you, now feels shame creep back up and wants to give you the apology you deserve. Even if there’s a chance you’ll forget all about it because of your drunkenness.

“I um, I’m sorry you know. For pressuring you to take it that far, I was just upset because you wouldn’t hang out with me,” he murmurs, coming back up from the ground and looking everywhere else besides your eyes. You shrug, not finding any deep meaning in anything anymore, crossing your arms.

“Forgiven. Only if you do a little something with me,” you smirk, coming up to him and tugging at his jacket, making Billy draw away from you. He will not do anything with a girl that’s drunk, and that’s a vow.

“C’moooon, who’s the boring old fuck now? Hint hint, it isn’t Jameson! His name starts with capital B and ends in Y!” you snort, barely balancing on one foot as you struggle unlacing your Converse and throwing them off your feet. Next comes you sweater, and now Billy feels like he can’t breathe properly seeing you in your bra and your jeans marching towards the near freezing lake.

“What— uh, Y/N stop, this isn’t right at all, what’re you fucking doing!” he shouts, jogging over to you in a midst panic. You’re grinning like a baby that stole all the candy, not refraining from snaking the rest of your clothes off. Sober you would be absolutely appalled, while drunk you is having a fucking blast. Billy rushes to you and rips off his jacket, covering your nakedness and snapping his head in every direction as to make damn sure no one is witnessing this right now.

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about! Take more off and join me,” you make a come hither gesture with your finger while heading towards the water, before dunking right in. The alcohol has warmed you up, making you completely impervious to the cold wetness. Billy thanks God that he sees your head peak back up from the water, almost shitting himself at the thought of losing you from drowning or the million other things that could go wrong here.

“Hurry it up, Hargrove! Chop chop, water’s feelin’ fucking great out here!” you shout, both your hands making an O-shape around your lips so he could hear you better. Billy shakes his head, deciding that he only lives once, and this is going to be the most wild thing he’s ever done with a girl. Even though he’d been around the block and done some pretty questionable things.

The teen hurried to yank off his jeans and shirt, and stops for a moment to ponder if it’s really smart to keep his boxers on. He hated being a hormonal boy right then, given that his dick had started waking up at the sight of you waltzing around naked and teasing him. He decides that if you, the school’s perfect good girl could hop in the water in your birthday suit, he had to follow your footsteps and do it too.

“We could get arrested for this,” he calls out, shoving his boxers off and folding both yours and his clothes together in one neat pile before joining you in the freezing cold water. He’d swam much more gracefully than you had, watching you doggy paddle over to him and laugh as you jump scare him with a splash of water into his face.

“Jesus, what was that for?” he wipes the water out of his eyes, his dirty blonde mullet now drenched.

“For taking too damn long,” you smile while spitting out some water that had seeped into your mouth. Billy swims closer into your personal space and holds onto your back, extra careful about where his hands lay because of your being utterly exposed to him.

“Okay, I guess this is when I gotta admit that I stand corrected,” he confesses reluctantly, keeping his eyes on yours and refusing to look down any further. You may be drunk and naked and fucking wet right in front of him, but he remains respectful. “You’re way more ballsy than I am.”

“That’s right, bitch, and don’t you forget it!” you show off, before swimming away with your back floating on the water.

“Where you goin’ now, crazy?” he asks, trailing behind you. You’ve gotten out now, not giving a shit about drying off and shoving your pants back up, along with stealing his jacket and putting it on over where you just wear your bra. Billy can’t unsee you naked, and he certainly never will forget seeing you in his jacket with almost nothing underneath with his own two eyes. His dick has definetely not reacted kindly to the practically below zero temperature water, but it sure as shit tries going back up because of you.

—

Both teenagers barely dried off still, have taken to cranking up the heat to the point of it being similar to a sauna in his car as you both giggle about what just happened.

“I can’t believe you,” he thinks aloud, still so baffled by your drunken nature and what stupid shit you’re really capable of.

“Hey, Billy?”

“Yes, oh-so-crazy one?”

“Remember when I told you, I told’ya I liked all kinds a movies,” you remind him of earlier, and he listens and nods intently, wondering what’s gonna come flying out of your mouth now. “I really do. I cried while watching The Breakfast Club, even When Harry Met Sally. Or Jaws too. Like, all’s movies do is make me cry. Because the characters go and have fun with their friends, or meet someone and fall in love, and I never’ve gotten to do that before. But you’re so fun, and I feel like I got to live in one of the movies today,” you mumble, now having been worn out by the day you’ve had and propping up your arm to the window and resting your head on it.

Billy’s heart and face have flushed to the point of soaring at your confession. He takes on one of his hands off the wheel, keeping one steady on making sure he won’t crash you two, and pets your wet hair and combing his fingers lovingly through.

“Alright, beautiful. Well, I’m glad you had fun, but uh, the truth is that this was all you. You’re hardcore, seriously. It’s pretty bitchin’. But I kinda felt like I lived in a movie today with you too,” he murmurs the last part, still tucking your damp strands behind your ear carefully then gets greeted by the sound of your soft snoring from the passenger’s seat. He chuckles at that, then focuses back on the road. The boy knows this night will always be lodged into his memory, and he’ll never underestimate you again.

—

this was so fun writing! I’ll be starting up on another prompt request soon, don’t worry fellas and ladies and gents

[kingofdirtandnothing]

@polyfacetious big ass Christmas Drabble Extravagaza: Day Ten

Miles has been lurking. Kinda. 

Because lurking is a way nicer way to say he’s been kind of, sort of stalking the cute guy who worked at the flower shop. Because homeboy was tall, and handsome as hell, et cetera, et cetera. 

Miles just...needed some time to figure things out. How to go about it. No rushing in half cocked, that’s what his mom would say. Because that’s what Dad would do. And they were trying to keep Dad from doing that. 

Which is how Miles ended up Fresh Prince-ing it, and moving from Chicago all the way to Monte Carlo, to try and help his dad. His parents had been divorced since he was five years old, and honestly the thought of them being together was weirder than anything. 

Mark had never tried to be his dad, and Miles always appreciated that. He loved Mark like family too, but those were shoes no one else could fill. No matter what ocean was between them. So when Mom started worrying about Dad’s mental health, it made sense for Miles to be the one to step up. 

He graduated last year, and this was a free freaking year between high school and college. A year to party and do whatever he wanted, before he buckled down and got his life on track. Chemical engineering degrees weren’t going to get themselves.

And at first, Miles thought about just going for it. Sauntering up in there, handing his phone over to the cute white boy and going ‘hey sexy, call me sometime’. Because if there was one thing Miles was good at, it was getting numbers. And yeah, he could have dropped this whole virginity thing awhile ago if he wanted to, but he was waiting for someone special. 

That was Dad’s fault. Mom and Mark told him a whole bunch of times that sex was just something people did, and as long as he was safe with it, that it was En Bee Dee. No big deal. But Dad...Dad talked about love and relationships like they were some kind of fragile antique. That it was worth it to wait for the right person for your first time. 

And now he was here, and staying here for at least a year, and every time Miles wound himself up to go spit game at the cute white boy florist, he stopped himself. Because Max (he wore a name tag, it’s not like Miles was some kind of creepy Facebook stalker) had real nice eyes and a pretty smile, and he seemed like a cool ass dude. 

You didn’t go in on nice people like that. (Somewhere in the back of his head, he can hear his mom’s voice asking him ‘why would you treat anyone like that, why does their worth define your perception?’ but Miles isn’t listening because he’s eighteen, he can only take so much psychological shit in a day, thanks mom.)

So now Miles was trying to figure out how to do this right. Because it was decided, which maybe he shouldn’t decide shit without actually talking to the guy, but too late. Miles was going to date the cute white boy, and he was going to do everything right, full meet cute and shit, and he was gonna win him over, then get his cherry popped all romantically. It was a Plan. Capital letters and everything.

But he’d never actually done this before, and the books in the romance section in Dad’s shop weren’t super helpful. Probably because most of them were super heteronormative and lame, but Miles had snuck out some pearls of wisdom. 

Like...food. Food was always the way to win somebody over. If you were into somebody and they didn’t like food, then you needed to clear the fuck out and find somebody else. 

So Miles decided that he was going to win Max over with food. And after an afternoon group chat texting spree with Mark and Mom, who was definitely not working even though she was at work, they decided that Miles cooking at home would be too intense to start off with. Way too much room for rejection. Also, Miles couldn’t cook for shit, so. 

Take away. That’s what he was going to start with. The good stuff, from Diego’s, because you had to eat it fast, while it was still warm, so it gave Miles a reason to stick around the flower shop and talk. Then maybe by the time they were done eating, he could drop an ask for Max’s number and walk out of there, smooth as butter. 

Now, he just had to survive Diego and get the tacos. Which was easier said than done, because Diego liked to talk mad shit, especially once he realized that Miles spoke Spanish. (And Miles realized that Diego stuttered way less in Spanish, so he dusted off his Rosetta Stone and practiced that shit at night, just to make sure it was all fresh in his mind.)

Thankfully, it was late enough in the afternoon that the line wasn’t too long. Diego’s got mad busy around noon, because everyone knew when he started cooking fresh and they wanted to get the food right off of the grill. 

But Miles, he knew the better secret. If you waited for the lunch crowd to thin out and bail, then Diego would have to make stuff fresh for you anyway. Still the same fresh off the grill meat and tortillas, but none of the wait. 

Then again, Miles didn’t have a job to get back to, so maybe that had something to do with why his secret tip worked for him and not for anybody else.

“Que pasa, homie!” Miles throws his arms out wide when he steps into the little shop, and is greeted with Diego leaning across the counter to smack knuckles with him, and then pull Miles into one of those single armed hugs that dudes did. 

“You’re late today.” Diego glances up at the clock. It’s closer to two than it is to one, and Miles has made a habit of being here about fifteen after one, most days. 

“Yeah. I was texting with my mom, you know how it is.” Diego’s eyes are big and brown and warm, lips tugging up into a smile. You wouldn’t live if you said it to his face, but everybody knew Diego was a Class A Mama’s Boy. 

“Yeah, for sure.” Diego smacks him in the arm one more time before he turns back to the flat top behind the counter. “Your usual?”

There’s a pang of nerves, like drunk butterflies behind Miles’ ribs. “Two actually.” That gets him a raised eyebrow from Diego. Dad usually ate with M’Baku and James at the book store. And when they ate lunch together, it was almost always at Tony’s. (Because Tony would feed Dad for free, that place was not cheap.)

“Two huh?” It doesn’t take more than a second for Diego to hone in on it. Dude was like a sexy, stuttering shark. “You got a date or something, hermano?” 

See, that was tricky. Because Diego was opening the door up to talk shit about him, but he was doing it in a way that made Miles feel warm and fuzzy. What a jerk. “Hopefully.” Fuck it, there was no such thing as too much input. “I’m gonna take it over to the hot guy at the flower shop and see if I can get the digits.” Miles holds up his phone, giving it a little shake. 

“Max?” Diego’s laughter is big and bright. If ever there was a dude who guffawed, it was Diego. “Man, I wouldn’t have pegged him as your type.”

See, there it was. Here came the shit talking. But for once, Miles was ready. “Nuh uh, man.” He waggles a finger in Diego’s face, after he shoves his phone back into the back pocket of his jeans. “You don’t get to come at me about being white boy thirsty, you hear me?”

That earns him something that’s somewhere between a cough, a laugh and a gurgle, and Diego gives him the finger, chopping the meat up on the grill with the other hand. Yeah, being a mama’s boy wasn’t the only thing Miles knew about Diego. Homeboy had it bad for Klaus across the street. 

But Miles can’t leave it at that, and it’s not like he can talk to his parents about this part. They’d just ‘aww’ at him, and he can’t take that. “He’s hot, okay? And he seems nice.” Seems, because Miles has never actually talked to the dude. He just hopes Diego won’t poke holes in his plan, here. They didn’t need a Titanic situation happening. 

“Max is cool.” Diego agrees, dumping the meat into the corn tortillas in their red and white checked cardboard containers. “He knows a crazy lot about flowers, too. When I wanted to send some to my mom, he walked me around through there and told me what all the different ones meant, and how people used to send love letters with flowers. That shit was wild, like even the color mattered. Can you imagine? Sneaking somebody a random ass bouquet of flowers but instead of it really being random, you were telling them that you were crazy in love with them and wanted their body.”

Diego hands over the two containers of street tacos, a couple of napkins tucked underneath so that Miles wouldn’t forget. They go easy into Miles’ hands, and his thanks is swallowed up by Diego continuing to talk. “Play it cool, man. I don’t think he gets hit on a lot. So it might take him some time to realize that you’re actually into him. So don’t freak and bail, okay?”

Miles would love to take offense to that, except for the fact that he’s absolutely the kind of dude who would freak out and bail at the first sign of rejection. He had a delicate soul, okay? Fine, fine he could figure it out and power through the teeth grinding mortification of waiting to see if somebody was into you. 

“Yeah yeah, I got it. Play it cool.” Miles backs up towards the door, pressing down his left heel and his right toe to do a little about face before he gets the gross, mushy shit out. “Thanks man, you’re the best.”

And of course, his emotional maturity is rewarded with Diego shouting ‘I LOVE YOU BABY, YOU’RE SO GOOD TO ME’ and making obnoxious sucking  kissy noises as Miles hurries out of the door and onto the street. Miles could still hear him with the door closed. What an asshole. (Miles loved the shit outta him.)

It’s four buildings down and crossing the street before Miles finds himself in front of the Midgar Flower Shop. And it’s only when he’s standing there that Miles realized he didn’t even check if Max was working today. What the hell was he going to do with extra tacos if Max wasn’t here? Miles couldn’t give them to the pretty brunette, he didn’t want her to get any ideas-

-”Max is inside. I’ll be back in thirty minutes! You guys have fun!” Speak of the adorable devil, Miles swears a blue streak as the pretty brunette pats him on the back and actually fucking skips away from him, her ponytail bouncing in the breeze. Someone really needed to put a bell on her. 

Miles pulls in a deep breath and steps inside, all those worried butterflies in his stomach turning into dancing ones when Max looks up from where he was cutting the stems on some flowers, and smiles at him. “Hey. What can I do for you?”

Miles offers over one of the containers of street tacos, his heart sitting high in his throat.. 

“Diego was having a special.” No he wasn’t. “Buy one, get one free.” He would never. Stepping up to the counter, Miles puts Max’s tacos down, in case he needed to make a swift exit. 

“You looked kinda hungry, so I figured I’d see if you wanted them or something.”

[trulymadlysydney]

Somewhere In Time: Four

“Sometimes when I look at you, I feel I'm gazing at a distant star. It's dazzling, but the light is from tens of thousands of years ago. Maybe the star doesn't even exist any more. Yet sometimes that light seems more real to me than anything.” 

― Haruki Murakami, South of the Border, West of the Sun

Previous Chapters HERE

tw: Death, Loss of Parent

***Please Do Not Repost Without Permission***

12:02pm, October 5th, 1989

“Uhh, earth to Roni.”

A shrill voice followed by a few obnoxiously bubbly giggles brings fifteen year old Roni out of her own mind, and she looks up with a hot face. She uses a finger to push her thick-rimmed glasses up her nose, but she knows the voice before she even sees who it belongs to.

Lainey Prescott, one grade above Roni and just about the bane Roni’s existence.

She stands no taller than Roni, her two best friends Olivia and Janet standing on either side of her like her little minions. With their matching pink fingernails and Pom Pom hair accessories, they look like little clones. Roni has to fight the urge to roll her eyes.

This happens nearly every day during free period. They come up to bother her, get their little digs in wherever they can, and then continue walking their laps around the track because they’re “working on their figures.”  Roni has tried everything to put an end to it, even going so far as to sit in the dirt under the bleachers, but they’ve always ended up finding her. So now Roni sits out in the open, expecting it almost every day and thanking her lucky stars when it doesn’t happen.

“Hi, Lainey,” she mutters.

“Hey, super cute high-waters today, Ron!” Olivia and Janet snicker behind Lainey, who looks incredibly pleased with herself.  “Whatcha reading?”

Roni sticks her finger between the pages of her book to mark her place and averts her gaze, ears growing hot. “Nothing.”

Olivia speaks up. “I bet it’s another one of those sci-fi books. We all know she gets off on weird shit like that.”

Olivia’s words feel like a blow to the chest, but Roni keeps her composure and swallows around a lump in her throat. Lainey doesn’t seem to notice when she nudges Roni’s sneaker with her sandal. “No seriously, what is it? Looks cool.”

Roni looks up sheepishly. “Do you really care?”

“Totally, babe.”

Roni lets out a sigh, somehow taking the bait.  “It’s called Timescape,” she explains.  “It’s set in two different time periods: the sixties, and the nineties.”

“Wow,” Lainey says,  “The future.  So cool.”

Roni licks her lips in hesitation before continuing.  “Anyway so, everything in the nineties goes wrong, and this scientist guy is  trying to contact the past so that he can prevent whats happening and essentially stop it in its tracks.”

Roni hears Janet mutter an “oh my GOD, so like time traveling? ” to a ridiculously giggly Olivia, but Lainey doesn’t acknowledge them. She instead raises her eyebrows. “Wow, tell me more, Ron.”

Now Roni knows for a fact that the girls are making fun of her, and she’s about to say something when Lainey adds, “I mean, it must be super interesting. You’ve been sitting over here reading out loud to yourself. Did you know you did that?”  She laughs over her shoulder with the other girls before continuing. “It’s adorbs.  I’m sure any guy would find that super cute.”

“Lainey—“

Lainey cuts Roni off, as if this thought has just occurred to her. “Hey, speaking of, you don’t have a boyfriend yet, right?”

Roni sighs. “I don’t.”

You know I don’t, asshole.

Lainey giggles. “Awww, it’s okay, I figured as much. But listen, my parents are out of town this weekend and I’m throwing a party. It’s gonna be a boy-girl party, and you’re invited. I’m sure we could find you a guy there.”

“Yeah,” Janet adds, “and it’s BYOB. Bring your own Book.” Her stupid joke coaxes a cackle our of Olivia, and Roni rolls her eyes.

It wasn’t even that clever.

“Yeah, you can show us all your super cool time traveling tricks.” Olivia snickers. “Or at least spew out more time traveling facts. That’ll be a hit.”

Lainey smirks. “Totally. You should come.”

What Roni wants to do is tell them to fuck off. She wants to tackle them to the ground, rip the pom poms out of their hair and shove them down their throats until they’re all blue in the face. But she can’t do that, because there’s more of them than there is of her, and frankly they scare her.

So she clears her throat.  “Guys, I don’t think—“

“Oh come on,” Janet groans. “What, do you have to ask your mommy for permission?”

Roni’s heart stops the moment the words leave her mouth, and even Lainey and Olivia shoot Janet an incredulous look, as if even they can’t believe she’s just said that.

Janet looks back at them, completely oblivious. “What?! You know she probably does.”

“Janet,” Olivia says quietly, “you know her mom died.”

Roni doesn’t know why people do that; say “died” around her like it’s a filthy word.   She’s noticed that everyone does it, including her own grandmother, and it makes her feel sick to her stomach every time.

Janet’s mouth forms a wide O shape as the realization dawns on her. “Oooooohhhh. Shit. My bad. But she doesn’t care.” She turns back to Roni. “You don’t care, right? Like, you know we’re just joking around.”

Roni feels her eyes welling with tears and she wills them to stop, please stop— at least until the girls walk away.

“Please leave me alone,” is all she manages to say.

Lainey’s perfect smile returns to her face, only far more nervous than before, and Roni can tell she’s trying to do damage control. “So anyway.”  She glares at Janet before smiling sweetly. “The offer still stands. You better be there, girl.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Roni mumbles at the ground, vision now completely blurred with tears.

“Sweet! Catch ya on the flip side.”  Lainey waves her perfectly manicured fingers in Roni’s direction before she and her minions turn on their heels— each executing a perfect hair flip as they proceed on their way.

When she’s sure they’re out of ear shot, Roni lets out a quiet sob, reaching up to rub at her runny nose with the back of her sleeve. How girls can be so cruel, she’ll never know. But these three in particular have tormented her since elementary school, and it’s exhausting.

She doesn’t know why they do it. Why they can’t just leave her alone.  She’d never spoken a word  to any of them before it began, always minded her own business, and still they were relentless. Even after her mother passed, they kept it going. In fact, it almost seemed to get worse.

But Roni is not about to let them see her cry. Not today.  So she stands, flings her backpack over her shoulder, and walks off.

She doesn’t have a destination in mind, all she knows is that she needs to get far enough away from them as possible— even if that means hiding out in the girl’s bathroom until the end of free period (Which she’s also tried doing before. It didn’t work. They always found her).

She makes her way back into the building, heading straight for her locker.  The halls are surprisingly quiet, which doesn’t surprise Roni.  It’s a gorgeous day out.  That was the whole reason she was even outside in the first place. But then Lainey and her friends had to go ruin it, and now Roni isn’t even sure what else to do except grab some things from her locker and wander aimlessly for the next thirty minutes.

Roni rounds the corner and nearly bumps into someone exiting the boy’s bathroom. She’s about to say something snarky when she realizes who it is.

Staring back at her with an apologetic smile lighting up his entire face, is Oliver Ward.

Oliver is one of her friends, she guesses.  A grade older than her, he’s not exactly considered popular but he has more friends in general than Roni does.  She doesn’t talk to him as much as she should, despite the fact that he’s always treated her with more kindness than most people at this school.  He softens once he recognizes the person he’d nearly taken out.

“Roni! Hey!”

Roni reaches up to wipe at her nose and half-heartedly reciprocates his smile.  “Hey.”  It comes out rather unenthusiastically, and she diverts her gaze from his. She doesn’t mean to come across as so pathetic, and she definitely doesn’t want him to know that anything is wrong.  But the way his face falls when he hears her response lets her know that he is most definitely on to her.

“Have you been crying?”  His question is right to the point, and it makes Roni want to start crying all over again.

“No,” she lies.

“You have,” he says, his voice softening.  “What happened?”

Roni knows there’s no use lying to him, so she shrugs.  “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

Oliver scowls.  He knows what that means.  “Did Lainey do something shitty again?”

Finally,  Roni looks up and gives Oliver a weak nod.  “I don’t know why she won’t just leave me alone,” she admits.  “I leave her alone.”

“Oh, Ron,” Oliver coos.  “Fuck her. Why don’t you tell someone?”

Roni shrugs again.  “That would do more bad than good, Ollie, you know that.”

Oliver tries his hardest not to smile at the nickname she’s given him.   Nobody’s called him Ollie since the first grade, and he doesn’t have the heart to tell her that he’s always hated it.  Because for some reason, when she says it, he doesn’t hate it at all.

“I dunno,” Oliver says.  “It might finally put an end to her shit.”  He nods his head towards her.  “Where were you headed?”

Roni sniffs pathetically.  “Anywhere.  Just trying to kill time I guess.”

Oliver smiles.  “You can come with me!  I was just gonna finish up some homework in the library, so I don’t know how interesting it’s gonna be.  But at least you’ll have some company!”

Roni eyes Oliver, weighing her options.  On the one hand, she doesn’t want to tag along; be his little sidekick while he finishes up his work.  The last thing she wants is for him to feel the need to entertain her.  But on the other hand, she figures it’s better than moping around without any direction feeling sorry for herself. And besides, the way Oliver grins at her so full of hope and light, makes it hard to resist.

So Roni giggles and nods.  “Okay.”

“Cool.”  Oliver beams, nodding over his shoulder to signal Roni to follow him.  As they begin walking, he launches right into casual conversation.  “So, what’cha reading?”

Oliver is the kind of person who can hold a conversation with just about anyone and make it feel completely natural.  Roni hasn’t talked to him too many times, but each time she does, she thanks her lucky stars that he’s so good at keeping conversation going because otherwise she knows they would be screwed.

However, her ego is still a bit bruised from Lainey’s words, and she’s not too keen on sharing any more information about this book with anyone else.  “It’s nothing.”

“What?  It looks really cool.  What’s it called?”

Roni can feel her cheeks growing hot, and she refuses to look at Oliver when she answers him.  “Timescape.”

“Ooooh!  That sounds cool.  Is it about time?”  Not a hint of sarcasm is attached to his words, and although Roni can’t see his face she knows he’s genuinely interested.  The thought lifts her spirits just the tiniest bit.

“Kinda,” Roni says.  “It’s like, time travel stuff.  Someone in the future is trying to go back and warn people in the past about like, these catastrophic events happening in the world.  It’s actually really cool.”

Oliver whistles.  “No kidding! That sounds rad.”  They round the corner and open the large doors into the school library.  Oliver lowers his voice as they make their way to a small round table with empty seats.  “Think I could borrow it when you’re done?”

Roni nearly stops walking.  “Are you serious?”

“Yeah!”  Oliver smiles at her, slinging his backpack off of his shoulders and onto the table.  “Hell yeah.  I’d love to read it.”

Roni realizes she’s been smiling because her cheeks ache, and she tucks her bottom lip between her teeth to hide it.  She clears her throat.  “I mean yeah, if you want to.”

“Sweet!” Oliver starts unloading the contents of his backpack before pausing and looking back at Roni.  “I mean like, no rush or anything.  Finish it on your own terms.  Don’t like, freak out trying to get it to me.”  Roni notices the slight red tint to the tips of Oliver’s ears, and for some reason it’s beyond endearing.  She giggles, taking her seat beside Oliver.  

“Don’t worry, I’m a fast reader anyway.”

Oliver smiles, seemingly relieved.  “Well that’s good.”

There’s a silence that doesn’t necessarily feel awkward, but it’s charged, and now it’s Olilver’s turn to clear his throat.  He turns his attention to the textbook in front of him, opening it up and flipping through to find a specific page.  He effectively changes the subject, but it feels more like a bookmark has been placed on the tension that Roni just experienced.  She doesn’t necessarily hate it, she’s just never felt it before.  Not with Oliver Ward.

“So anyway,” he says,  “Are you any good at chemistry?  I’ve been stuck on this one problem for ages.”  

-----

8:19am, January 2nd, 1925

Roni wakes earlier today, refreshed and optimistic after spending a good bit of the previous night dancing and laughing with Harry.  She feels much more at peace and surprisingly less disappointed to wake up in 1925 than she was yesterday. In fact, she’s optimistic at the prospect of what today might hold, and she’s feeling thankful that she’s here with Harry instead of with any other guy. She does however, feel a pang of guilt at the fact that she’s made Harry spend yet another night on his couch.  She decides she’s going to work something out with him; maybe they switch off the bed every other night she’s here-- for however long that may be.

With a long stretch that cracks her entire body,  she rolls out of bed-- careful not to move too quickly since she’s already seeing stars.  She adjusts Harry’s boxers around her waist, combing her hand through her hair and preparing herself to find Harry cooking breakfast again. Maybe she can even help him. She smiles to herself at the thought.

Roni tries not to think about last night. How good it felt being so close to Harry, and how wonderful he had smelled.  She refuses to acknowledge the tension that had singed the air, the way he’d watched her and clung to her every move, and the way he’d laughed not at her, but with her.  The night had been Roni’s first taste of normalcy in the past few days, and she’s beyond grateful to Harry for making that a possibility-- tension or not.

The closer to the door she gets, however, she notices she doesn’t smell or hear anything. In fact, it sounds almost completely silent in the other room. Harry hadn’t mentioned having to work today.

That’s odd.

She pushes the door open as quietly as possible , deciding that Harry must still be asleep. She doesn’t want to bother him and she figures she can sneak a shower in before he wakes up— effectively minimizing any awkward encounters that involve her in a towel.

And then she sees it.

Roni stops dead in her tracks at the sight before her. There’s Harry, splayed out and sitting so ungracefully-- legs spread wide and toes curling into the carpet beneath the pooling fabric of his trousers, and a hand wrapped tightly around his cock.

His bottom lip is tucked between his teeth, eyes closed in concentration as his hand pumps up and down, slower towards the bottom of his shaft and more rapid jerks of his wrist the higher up he gets.  When Roni hears him muttering a curse word under his breath, her blood runs cold.

She can’t help herself. It feels like a train wreck or some other disaster that she can’t help but watch.  He’s so much longer than she would have guessed. Not that she’d given it any thought in the past few days, because truth be told she really hadn’t.  If she’d had to guess, she probably would’ve at least been a bit generous with her assumptions, sure, but never this generous. He’s so well endowed she can’t tell if she wants to drool over it or just shake his hand and congratulate him.

The whole vision is just so… beautiful in an odd way, and Roni’s mouth waters when she spares a thought for what he must taste like.

Get it together, Roni. Fuck.

She turns to head back into the bedroom to leave him to it, but her ears perk when she hears him mutter another curse word and a few other filthy things that he would probably say if he were fucking up into someone.

No fucking way.

She’s not doing this right now. There’s no way she’s going to indulge in any of this, and she knows she really needs to close the door and get back in bed. Never mind the fact that she’d had the same idea as Harry last night once she’d gotten in bed, and had to physically stop herself from doing anything to ease the dull ache and wetness between her legs.  She’d settled on squeezing her thighs together every now and then to see if that would relieve any pressure (it didn’t) and had simply gone to bed telling herself she was absolutely batshit crazy.

She wasn’t going to get herself off in this boy’s bed, and she certainly wasn’t going to entertain any crazy fever dream fantasies about him either.

But now here he is, doing the exact same thing that she’d been so tempted to do, whimpering out what sounds like maybe the filthiest dirty talk she’s ever heard, and she feels like she’s going to pass out.

Harry’s head falls back against the couch, and his eyes flutter closed as an almost inaudible sigh passes his wet lips.  “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he mumbles.  “Soaked for me, aren’t you?”

Does this happen often?  Who is he thinking of?  Who, in his mind, is fucking him so good that he’s practically crying alone on his couch?  Roni feels a brief pang of jealousy followed by guilt and a mental slap to the face to remind herself to get it the fuck together.

Roni allows herself a few more moments to watch him tease himself, watching his swollen cock drip with his pre-cum, and she can’t help but to lick her lips when she sees the way his lips curl around his teeth. With eyebrows furrowed, Harry slaps a hand across his mouth to mute his pitiful whimpers.  He’s close, and Roni decides that now is as good a time as any to go back into the bedroom and grant him his privacy.

Silently closing the door behind her, Roni lets out all of her air in one long exhale and stares at the wall opposite her.  Try as she might (or might not), she can’t get the image out of her brain.  How is she supposed to face him later? Is this even something she should bring up? How would she even start that conversation? And what kind of response would that warrant from him? Surely he’d think she was snooping, and probably be mad at her for invading his privacy.

Roni presses the heels of her palms to her eyes, willing the image of him getting himself off to completely exit her brain.  She takes a few minutes to breathe, pacing around the room to get this strangely nervous energy out of her system, before sitting down on the bed with another long sigh.  She knows she’s got no choice but to wait it out now, and for some reason it makes her anxiety a million times worse than it was before.

It’s a few minutes later when Roni hears the bathroom door close, and finally she feels brave enough to make her way back into the living room of the apartment.  She moves slowly, still, as if afraid to make too much noise, and bites at her lip as she makes her way into the quiet room.

No one would ever guess that the events of a few minutes ago had even occurred.  The couch looks completely untouched, the little blanket Harry’s been using at night folded up and slung neaty across the arm.  The air does feel unmistakably hotter in here (or maybe that’s just Roni), but otherwise everything is perfectly still and normal.

She makes her way unsurely into the kitchen.  Should she make herself at home and start cooking?  It would be a nice gesture on her part, and a somewhat wordless apology for the slight invasion of privacy.  Even if she wasn’t outright apologizing, it would definitely clear her conscience.

Roni reaches up to open one of the cabinets to see if there’s anything available to make for breakfast.  It blows her mind that Harry doesn’t have a simple pantry in his apartment, although she’s not even sure a pantry would fit given the size of the place.

She frowns when she’s met with stacks of plates behind the cabinet door.  Where the hell does Harry keep his food anyway?

The refrigerator in the corner of the kitchen is no bigger than a box, and when she opens it she’s met with even less food than she’d been expecting.  Does Harry even eat?

“Oh! Morning!”

Roni turns with a start when she hears Harry’s pleasant greeting, his tone now a stark contrast to the desperate whimper it was just minutes ago.  Roni’s entire body shivers at the memory.

“Hey!” she greets as normally as possible. “Morning.”

Harry walks over to pour himself a glass of water.  “Sleep alright?”

“M-hm!”  Does he know that she knows?

“That’s good.”  Harry smiles, completely innocent.  “You’re up earlier this morning.  Did I wake you?”

“What?”  It takes Roni a moment to realize he’s not referring to that, and she laughs nervously.  “Oh, no, you’re good.  Just like, my natural clock I guess.”

“You’re getting more used to being here.”  Harry grins.  “Wonderful.”

Roni smiles at him a tick too long, and she turns her attention to the cupboards.  “Anyway,” she says,  “Can I help with breakfast?”

“You don’t have to do that!”

“I want to!”

“You’re a guest.”

Roni shrugs.  “Not really.  Not anymore.  I told you I’ve gotta earn my keep around here.”

Harry chuckles, shaking his head at her.  “Alright.”  He blows his messy morning hair off of his face and glances around the kitchen, pondering what to even suggest. “Well, I haven’t got much.”

“Eggs are fine again!” Roni suggests, before a thought pops into her mind.  “Actually, got anything to make pancakes?”

Harry beams.  “I think I do.”

“Perfect! Pancakes are my specialty.”

Roni and Harry set to work then, falling comfortably into step side by side as they weave their way around the kitchen.  They launch immediately into conversation as they work, and it all feels so disgustingly domestic and comfortable that Roni almost forgets there’s anything abnormal about her situation. (She also temporarily forgets what she just saw on the couch minutes ago, although every time she catches a glimpse of his hand she is so painfully reminded.)  They discuss buying Roni new clothes, since she is going to be here for the foreseeable future, and Roni asks several questions about what to expect when entering the roaring 20s.  Harry answers her, “lots of lions” and when she doesn’t understand right away, he giggles through his explanation of,  “‘Roaring.’ Get it? Sorry.”

It’s when they’re sitting at the table side by side, shoveling pancakes into their mouths, that Roni shifts topics.

“Your eye looks better!”

Harry chuckles.  “It does, doesn’t it? Just got a look at it in the mirror.  The swelling  has gone down significantly.”

“Thank goodness,” Roni nods.  “We have to be looking our best tonight, after all. We’re still on for dancing?”

Harry smiles around his glass of milk as he sips, and there’s a brief moment where he forgets to wipe his milk mustache off in which Roni completely melts.  “‘Course we are,” he says with a nod.

“What kinds of places are we going?  Like are we just gonna go bar hopping?  Or like… what’s the plan?  What should I prepare for?  Should I wear comfy shoes?”

Harry makes a face, not answering her right away. He opens his mouth, then closes it again.  He takes another sip of milk, and now Roni is wondering if she’s said something wrong, because his entire demeanor shifts.  “What?  Is that not how it works here?”

Harry won’t even look at her, but the smile on his face hardly falters-- if anything it just looks a bit more regretful.  “No,” he says.  “It’s not that.”

Roni frowns.  “Well, we don’t have to go if you don’t want to! We can just--”

“It isn’t that either.”  Harry finally looks at Roni with embarrassment.  He hesitates to speak, until she presses him with a look.  He sighs.  “Veronica, I have to tell you something.”

Roni hates those words.  Any time someone has said something to her along those lines, it is almost always followed by bad news.  She leans closer to him.  “What’s wrong?”

“I… don’t have enough money… to take you to several places. I can only afford one, and it’s only because I know the guy who owns it.”

Roni still doesn’t understand, so she shakes her head and places her hand on Harry’s arm reassuringly.  “Harry, that’s not a big deal, I don’t mind if--”

“No, listen.  Please.  I have to tell you this because it’s gone on for too long, and I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to hide it from you.”  

Roni swallows, preparing herself for the worst.  Harry’s got a wife and child living somewhere else that he has to support, and they don’t know about this apartment.  Harry is sick and dying and only has enough money to pay his medical bills for the next couple of months until he shrivels away.  Harry has--

“I don’t have a job.”

Oh.

Roni blinks back at him, trying to find the proper words to go about responding to him.  She isn’t mad by any means, but he’s looking at her like she should be.  His cheeks burn red, and his skin under Roni’s hand feels hot to the touch.  He licks his lips, raising his eyebrows expectantly at her, and she realizes she’s just been sitting here with her mouth open.  She shakes her head, and speaks with as much gentleness as she can conjure up.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know.  I really don’t.  I don’t think I anticipated you being here as long as you are-- which, I’m so happy that you are, by the way-- so I didn’t think it would come up.  And now I want to take you out and buy you clothes, and I still very much intend to do that, because I do have money left over for that.  But I just can’t do it to the extent that I would like to.  And it’s awful, because I really would love to show you around, take you to several dance places, etcetera etcetera, but…. I can’t.”

The amount of sadness in Harry’s eyes makes Roni’s heart feel heavy, and she gives his arm a squeeze.  “Harry,” she sighs.  

“Are you disappointed?”

“Of course I’m not disappointed.  If anything, I’m disappointed in myself.  I’ve been so selfish this entire time--”

“Don’t do that.”

“--But if I’d known, I could’ve helped!”

Harry chuckles, and it’s the first time in a few minutes that he seems like himself again. “How on earth could you have helped?”

“I don’t know,” Roni shrugs, “but we would’ve found a way.  You’re doing so much to help me, I can’t just sit here and let that happen without returning the favor!”

“There’s no favor to return,” Harry says with a smile.  “It’s my pleasure.”

Roni sits back in her chair, already brainstorming and completely ignoring his words.  “Lets see,” she says, drumming her fingers along the table top.   “I don’t need clothes--”

“Yes you do.”  Harry snorts.  “You’re practically swimming in mine.”

“Yeah but--”

Harry holds up his hand to stop her.  “I’ve got that part covered, Veronica.  I promise you.”

Roni rolls her eyes.  “Fine.  One outfit--”

“Two.”  Harry cuts her off again, his cheeky smile fully returning to his face.  “At the very least.  You need one for tonight and another for anything else.”

“But--”

“I’ve already got it all sorted.  You’re not going to persuade me otherwise.”  

“So you’re just gonna blow the last of your money… on me?”

“Not the last of it!” Harry shrugs, then laughs when Roni scoffs.  “Love,  I didn’t tell you this to worry you.  I’ll find another job sooner or later.  I just told you so that you wouldn’t be let down when I turn out to be a rather disappointing date.”

“You’re not disappointing.”  Roni frowns.  “We’re gonna get you a job, alright?”

“I believe you!” Harry says, popping another piece of pancake into his mouth.

“Starting today.”

“Today?!”  Harry speaks through a mouthful and swallows a bit harder than he’d intended.  “No, love, today is about finding you clothes--”

“And finding you a job.”  Roni grins brilliantly at him.   “We’re doing both at the same time.”  When Harry narrows his eyes at her, she only giggles and echoes his own words back at him.  “You’re not going to persuade me otherwise.”

Harry rolls his eyes, but his dimpled smile has returned full force.  He shakes his head and takes another bite.  “You’re something else, aren’t you?”

“Yep,” Roni pops the ‘p’ at the end of the world before taking a sip of her milk.  “So hurry up and finish breakfast.  We’ve got a busy day ahead of us.”

----

It’s three hours later when Roni and Harry find themselves downtown, after an hour of cleaning up their messes in the kitchen and Harry awkwardly explaining to Roni how the shower worked.  They’d wasted no time in buying Roni the appropriate outfits,  and she’d changed in the restroom at a high end cafe.  (The looks she’d received were actually quite hysterical-- dressed in Harry’s clothes and entering the women’s restroom only to emerge wearing a brown dress, stockings, and brand new shoes.)

Roni’s first time stepping out of Harry’s apartment and into the daylight had been surreal.  She’d felt dizzy several times, especially when comparing the shops and restaurants along the streets now to the ones of her own time.  It wasn’t that she didn’t know her way around; she knew this city like the back of her hand.  But seeing everything-- and everyone-- so different is a feeling unlike anything she’d ever experienced in her life.

But now here she is, dressed the part and feeling a hundred times more confident and present than before.  She and Harry had visited numerous businesses for him to apply to, and each one had given them roughly the same answer.  Promises to call seemed to only crush Harry’s spirit, which Roni understood.  But she’d remained as positive and enthusiastic about the entire process as she could, and now here she is-- encouraging him to just pop into one more store with her.  

“What if they’re the ones that are gonna offer you a job, you know?”

“Or they’ll just promise to call me,” Harry says with a shrug.  “You know how those things work.  They promise to call and they never do.”

Roni is about to launch into an entire spiel about how Harry is only going to attract what he puts out there and he shouldn’t be going into this with a negative attitude, when something catches her eye.

“Oh my god.”  

She stops dead in her tracks, and it takes Harry a moment to notice she isn’t behind him.  He turns to see Roni staring in disbelief at one of the little shops along the strip.  He follows her gaze to understand what she’s so struck by, but it only confuses him more.  “What, the tobacco place?”

“No, the book store.”  Roni feels like crying and she doesn’t even know why.  It’s not a particularly emotional moment by any means, but it’s strange and surreal and the only thing her body can think to do with all of the unusual feelings she’s feeling is to expel them through tears.  

She doesn’t end up crying, not really, but she does have to blink the mist out of her eyes to make sure she isn’t seeing anything.

The sign above the book shop is the same one she’d gotten so used to seeing nearly every day of her life in the 90s, but now it’s got a fresh coat of paint and it’s bright and shiny rather than weathered with time.  It reads, loud and proud in white paint: The Little Read Book, and Roni laughs in disbelief.

If Roni remembers correctly, the shop was opened in 1920-- which technically is five years ago-- by Eileen’s grandmother, and Roni realizes that that means Eileen isn’t born yet, and won’t be for another ten years.

“Harry,” Roni says quietly to a patient Harry who’s been waiting for her to say something,  “I work there.”

“What?”  Harry scoffs, glancing from the shop to Roni’s awe-stricken face.  “What on earth do you-- oh.”  It finally dawns on Harry, only now he isn’t sure at all what the proper way to respond to this situation would be.  He clears his throat.  “You don’t say?  Well, that’s interesting.”

Without thinking, Roni grabs Harry’s hand and yanks him with her as she makes her way to the shop.  “We have to go in,” she says, completely unaware of the way Harry is blushing at her small hand in his.

A familiar bell rings the moment Roni opens the door, and out of habit she wants to call out a greeting to Eileen. The shop smells exactly the same, and it’s organized almost identically to the way it looks in the 90s. The difference is on the walls- there are significantly less photographs covering them, and the ones that are tacked to the green wallpaper are fresh and not yellowed with age.

A few customers walk among the shelves, talking quietly to themselves, and faint jazz music plays from the radio behind the front desk.  The radio is still there in Roni’s time, but it has long since stopped working, and seeing it in all its glory is something so surreal that Roni gets dizzy all over again.

“May I help you?”

Roni turns her attention to a girl much younger than her rounding the corner carrying an armful of books.  Roni’s knee-jerk reaction is to go help the girl but she refrains-- reminding herself that she does not, in fact, work here at the moment.

The girl plops the pile onto the desk and Roni gets a glimpse of her nametag.  It reads “Daisy” in a plain blue font, and Roni wracks her brain trying to remember if she’s ever heard this name before and if this person holds any significance in Eileen’s life.

It’s Harry who speaks first.  “Hi, I was wondering if you had any available positions open?”

The question takes both Daisy and Roni by surprise, and Roni can’t stop her jaw from falling practically on the floor.  Of course it makes sense for him to work here, and she wishes she’d come up with the idea herself. She’d been so shocked to see this place in the context it’s in now, that she’d forgotten all about the task at hand.  A pang of guilt strikes her belly for a brief moment.

Daisy blinks back surprise, a pleasant smile growing on her face.  “Really?”

“Yes ma’am.”  Harry beams,  “I’m looking to start as soon as possible.”

Daisy eyes Harry for a moment, stopping briefly on his still faint-purple eye, before leaning against the counter and grinning.  “What’s your name?”

“Harry,” he replies, holding out his hand.  “Styles.”

Daisy shakes his hand with a smile before turning expectantly to Roni, and now Roni suddenly feels put on the spot.

“Uh,” she stammers, reaching to shake Daisy’s hand.  “I’m Roni.”

Daisy makes a face, cocking her head to one side.  “As in Ronald?”

Harry snorts, and Roni sighs.  “No, Veronica.  Sorry, I should’ve been more clear.”

“No!” Daisy says, “It’s just a unique name.  I’ve never heard anything like that before.  I like it.  Are you interested in a position as well?”  Her bright beautiful smile returns back to her face, and it’s the first time that Roni’s really looked closely. She can clearly see the almost chilling resemblance to Eileen now, and it makes her feel woozy.

It takes everything in Roni not to explain the situation, but how would she even start?  

Actually, I do work here, but not right now-- seventy-four years into the future, and I can give you my official employee reference for you to hire Harry!

Roni sees Harry smirking at her as if he’s thinking the same thing she is, and she giggles nervously.  “No.  Thank you though.”

“Alright, but if you change your mind, I’m always hiring!”  Daisy makes her way behind the counter to organize the books as she speaks.  “My name is Daisy Hartford. I actually recently took over the business with my husband Lawrence.  My mother opened the shop five years ago, but she gave the business to us when we got married last summer.”

Roni tunes Daisy out as she comes to the realization that Daisy is Eileen’s mother.  It feels so strange to see this young girl, likely no older than nineteen, running a business that Roni knows by heart, and speaking of her mother and her husband so candidly.  She doesn’t know that she’s going to have four children, and that one of them is going to be Eileen.  She doesn’t know that Eileen is going to take over the shop one day.  Hell, she probably doesn’t even know that the shop is going to make it another seventy-four plus years.  She doesn’t know any of this-- but Roni does.

Daisy continues rambling, bringing Roni out of her thoughts.  “I love it, but I could use all the help I can get.  Especially once we start having little ones running around, do you know what I mean?  I’m sure the two of you understand.”

Harry’s smirk only deepens while Roni feels her face is on fire. Her voice is so quiet that even she has a hard time hearing herself. “Oh, we’re not--”

“Well” Daisy unintentionally cuts Roni off, smiling sweetly.  “I’m sure I don’t need to bore you with my story.”  She turns to Harry with a pointed look.  “Mr. Styles.  Have you any experience working with books?”

Roni can almost hear the panic bells going off in Harry’s head, but his exterior remains cool and collected.  “I do not,” he says,  “But I am a fast learner.”

“Excellent.”  Daisy flips nonchalantly through a book before setting it aside.  “And your current employer is whom?”

Harry swallows, his ego clearly slightly bruised.  He fidgets with his fingers when he talks, drawing Roni’s attention to the fact that even she’s fidgeting with her ring out of pure nervousness.  “I don’t have one, ma’am.  But my previous employer was Milton and Sons.  I made shoes.”

“Oh, how funny!  I’ve got a pair of Miltons on right now!”  Daisy kicks out her leg a bit to show off her shoes, and it makes both Roni and Harry giggle.

“Those are quite nice,” Harry says.  “I’ll bet I made them.”

“I’ll bet you did!”  Daisy beams, before realizing that this is still a job interview-- albeit a very lax one. She clears her throat and settles herself down.  “Alright, alright.  Next question.  Why The Little Read Book?”

It’s another one of those moments where Roni wants to jump in, and Harry can see her internal struggle.  “Well,” he says slowly,  “A dear friend of mine recommended this place.”

“Did he?  What’s his name?”

Harry’s lips twitch.  “Ronald.”

Roni nearly chokes, but Harry remains completely serious as Daisy thinks long and hard.  “Ronald…. Mr. Whitley?  He comes in here quite often.”

“Maybe,” Harry says with a shrug. “I’ve never caught his last name before.  But in any case, Ronald has been coming here for years now.  He speaks very highly of this place.  Says it feels like home to him.  And I can see why.  You’ve got a remarkable business here, Mrs. Hartford.”

Daisy beams.  “Thank you! That’s lovely to hear.”  

After a few more questions that almost all lead into a conversation of some sort, Roni, Daisy, and Harry feel like three chums just hanging out and having a chat.  Which was something Eileen had constantly told Roni about Daisy.

“My mother could befriend a rock if you gave her enough time,” Eileen would say.  “She would hold conversation with just about anyone.  Everybody loved her, and with good reason.”

Now that she’s meeting her, Roni would have to agree.

“Well, Mr. Styles,” Daisy says through a sigh.  “I suppose I’ve just got one question left for you, and it’s the most important one.”

Harry nods.  “Shoot.”

“When can you start?”

Roni can tell that Harry wants to leap up in the air and celebrate.  She knows how much this means to him and, frankly, she’s feeling the exact same way.  She beams at Harry, expectantly awaiting his answer.  While he remains as calm as possible, there is no denying the dimple on his cheek showing just how happy he is.

“Tomorrow?” Harry raises his eyebrows questioningly.

“We’re closed tomorrow.”  Roni and Daisy say this at the same time, and when Daisy shoots Roni a look of confusion, Roni fumbles over an explanation.  Truth be told, it was merely force of habit.  But that isn’t something she has time to explain to Daisy, so she shrugs.

“Sorry, I’ve just-- tried to come in here a few times on Saturdays and Sundays and always realized you were closed.  Made that mistake too many times.  Ha. Sorry.”

This is a tradition no longer kept in 1999, but Roni remembers the days when both Saturdays and Sundays were off days.  In 1998 Eileen had decided to open up Saturdays for business, keeping Sundays blocked off because “I’m a God-fearing woman, Veronica.”   But still, it is Roni’s knee-jerk reaction to respond the way that she just has, and she’s thankful that Daisy bought her explanation.

“Right,” Daisy giggles.  “Well, in any case, Mr. Styles, are you free to start Monday around eleven?”

Harry nods.  “Monday around eleven sounds great.”

“Wonderful!  I can’t wait to work with you.”  She turns to Roni.  “And I’m sure I’ll be seeing much more of you in here, Mrs. Styles.”

Roni opens her mouth to say something but is cut off immediately by Harry taking her hand and tugging her towards the door.  “Right, lovely to meet you, Mrs. Hartford.  I’ll see you Monday at eleven, and not a minute later!”

The door closes behind them and they’re back outside, squinting at one another in the sunlight.  Harry’s smiling like an excited little boy, and after a moment of watching him, Roni presses him with a nudge.  “Well?”

“Veronica,” Harry says softly, “We fucking did it.”

It’s the first time Roni’s heard Harry (knowingly) curse in front of her, and it makes her giggle at his unfiltered excitement.  She takes both of Harry’s hands in hers and squeezes, beaming up at him before just giving in and wrapping her arms around his torso.  She gives him a tight squeeze and leans affectionately into him.

“Hell yeah,” she says,  “We fucking did.”

----

“Harryyy,” Roni whines from the bathroom.

“Yes, love?”

Roni sighs loudly, and the noise makes Harry chuckle to himself from his spot on the couch.  “You can’t laugh, okay?”

“Why would I laugh?”

“Because.”  Roni opens the door a crack, barely peeking her head out to look at Harry.  “I need help.”

It’s a few hours later and Harry and Roni have found themselves back at Harry’s place to freshen up for the evening.  Roni had insisted she’d be fine changing in another public restroom, but Harry had refused-- saying that he needed to get changed into something “spiffier.”

The outfit Harry had bought for Roni seemed nice enough, but now that she’s actually trying to do up the buttons in the back while keeping the sash tied correctly, she’s realizing just how complicated the entire outfit is. It doesn’t help that the only bra she has is the one she’d been wearing the night she arrived, which is very modern in comparison to the rest of the dress.   Try as she might, there is no way she could manage getting the buttons all done up herself.  So she’d swallowed her pride, and now here she is-- pitifully asking Harry for help.

Harry looks lovely, of course, and it’s the nicest Roni has seen him dress the entire time she’s been here.  He’s in a gray suit buttoned up the front, and a nice pair of leather shoes that, admittedly could use a bit of a shine but are altogether so handsome and so Harry.  He completes the entire ensemble with a little gray cap on his head-- because of course he does-- and Roni suddenly feels self conscious when he looks at her.

He smiles knowingly, rising to his feet and heading towards the bathroom door.  “Too advanced for you then?”

Roni pouts, stepping out of the bathroom in the half buttoned, half tied mess of a dress.  “I just can’t get the buttons done,” she huffs.  “And the belt won’t stay tied!”

Harry snorts, picking up the ribbon that droops around Roni’s waist.  “It doesn’t go there.”

Roni rolls her eyes.  “Well that would’ve been nice to know ten minutes ago.”

“Alright, alright,”  Harry says through another laugh.  “Turn around.”

Roni complies without thinking, and Harry’s breath catches in his throat the moment she does.  

It’s the first time he’s seen a woman’s bare back in, god, he doesn’t even know how long.  She’s gotten the buttons done up herself all the way to the spot just before her back dips into her bottom, and Harry subconsciously licks his lips at the involuntary thought of what lies beneath the southernmost button.  The lace of her brassiere clings delicately to her back, and although Harry has seen a decent amount of brassieres in his lifetime, he’s never quite seen one this intricate.  He would give anything to unlatch it and place his lips to the spot on her skin where it rested, but he knows he can’t.  He knows he’s got a job to do here, and she’s waiting.

Harry doesn’t realize he’s been staring for so long until Roni speaks. “What, did I mess it up?”

“Yes” Harry says, praying that Roni doesn’t notice the audible crack in his voice.  “But it’s okay.  Nothing I can’t fix.”

With shaky hands Harry works to fasten the buttons up her back.  Roni sighs, seemingly unaware of the way Harry trembles behind her.  For some reason the fact that this is completely normal to Roni, in a time where it’s scandalous for any unwed woman to present herself to a man this way, is making this all the more sexy to him.  He licks his lips, focusing on getting this done as quickly as possible so as not to make it weird, while also savoring the moment as much as he can.  

He can feel the heat from her skin, and he can smell his shampoo in her hair, and he closes his eyes to allow the scent to fill his nose.  Should he say something?  Is he being weird by not saying anything?  Can she feel how absolutely tense he is as he tries to focus on not touching her for too long?  He’s completely short-circuited, and he gulps trying to come up with something to talk about.

When Harry’s finger accidentally grazes a spot on Roni’s back, she jolts, starling Harry.

“Sorry, sorry!” Harry blurts.  “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no, it’s just-- your hands are cold.”

“Oh.” Idiot.  “Sorry.”

“No,” Roni says again.  “It felt… good.”

“Oh.”  

Can he say anything other than oh?

Harry watches as goosebumps prickle Roni’s skin, and he moves slower now, taking special care to brush his fingers against her back occasionally.  If she said it felt good, it’s all he can do to keep her feeling that way.   She swallows and audibly exhales,  and the goosebumps never fade or shrink.  

Harry doesn’t know why it happens this way with her.  Everything is always so friendly and normal, and then the most casual and mundane thing sets him off.  He knows she feels it too, because even over her shoulder he can see her eyes nervously darting around with every controlled breath she takes.   She, too, looks like she wants to say something and can’t find the words, but Harry doesn’t mind.  The higher he gets with her buttons, the slower he goes.

With a shaky hand, Harry reaches up to gather Roni’s hair in his hand and gently brushes it over her shoulder and out of his way.  She shivers when he does this, and it makes him smile to himself.  If ever he should be lucky enough to be this close to Roni again, he needs to remember that she likes to have her hair played with.

When he finally reaches the top button, he takes his time fastening it.  He doesn’t realize that he and Roni are both holding their breaths until both of them let it out in a sigh.  He closes his eyes briefly, willing time to stop just for moment so that he can savor this longer, but he has no time to linger on the thought before Roni is spinning around to face him.

“Does it look okay?  Like seriously, do I like… fit with the times?”

She looks genuinely worried, and her eyes scan his for any sign of humor in his response.  

How can Harry tell her that she looks like a dream?  She looks like everything he’s ever wanted and so, so much more.  Of course he’d gone a tad over his planned budget in buying her this outfit, but seeing her here, wearing it and looking like that makes it all worth it.  Were dresses like this supposed to fit this way?  He’s never seen a dress look so good on anybody before, and he doesn’t know how on earth to tell her that without frightening her off.

So he keeps his composure as much as he can, smiling mischievously down at her.  “Not yet.”

He reaches for the tie that Roni had mislabeled a belt and, feeling bolder now, unties it from around her hips.  She squirms a bit in his grasp but she isn’t smiling, not yet, and Harry realizes that fitting in is something incredibly important to her.

“Right, hold still.”  Harry loops the tie around the back of Roni’s neck, brushing her hair up over it and smiling when he notices the goosebumps on her skin once again.  He watches her face closely as he ties the tie in a loose knot in the middle of her chest.  She won’t look at him anymore, but there’s a hint of a smile gracing her pretty lips, so he knows he’s got her where he wants her.   He secures the knot and takes the two loose ends of the tie in his hands, yanking her gently closer to him.

Roni stumbles and gasps softy, before glaring up at him.  “Hey, careful! I could’ve--”

She trails off when she sees the way he’s smiling at her, and she softens immediately.  Her eyes hold an almost indiscernible worry, and if Harry had blinked he would’ve missed the way they darted down to his lips for just a split second.

Harry smirks.  “Now you look perfect.”

Roni giggles nervously, a red tint glowing from her cheeks as she averts her gaze.  She seems to come back to her senses slowly, and Harry is pleased with the effect he has on her.

“Thanks,” she says softly, stepping back and out of the circle of his arms,  “For… helping me.  I don’t mean to be so helpless it’s just…. You know.”

Harry nods.  “I do know,” he says with a reassuring smile.”  He places a hand on his belly.  “I also know that my stomach has been growling for the last hour, and I’m itching to show you off on that dance floor.”  He offers her his arm, grinning smugly down at her.  “So.  Shall we?”

---

The New York air is much colder now, and Roni leans closer to Harry for warmth as they walk.  She’s significantly less afraid now that she looks the part, even going so far as to give passersby a few polite head nods and a quick “good evening!”

Harry grins down at her, squeezing her arm with his own.  “You’re a proper lady now, aren’t you?”

Roni takes on her best posh accent, making Harry snort when she talks.  “Well I look the part, darling, but now I’ve got to act it, haven’t I?”

Through residual giggles, Harry shakes his head.  “You had me up until the accent.”

“What a shame,” Roni says, making her accent even thicker and giggling to herself.  “I’ll have to work on that.”

A clocktower in the distance chimes six o’clock as Harry and Roni finally approach their destination.   It’s busier than Roni had anticipated, but then again it is Friday night. This seems like the place to be, and if this is the only place Harry can take her tonight, he definitely picked a good one.

Harry talks briefly with the host at the front desk, who he’d mentioned to Roni that he was friends with, but Roni doesn’t even pay attention to anything being said.  She instead takes this time to really study the place.  Several round tables surround the large dance floor.  If Roni remembers correctly, this building is a roller rink in her time, and it’s so strange to see it as something so drastically different now.  

It’s also strange to see how many people are smoking indoors here, and Roni coughs when a woman walks by and wafts cigarette smoke into her face.

They’re seated shortly at a smaller table in the corner, and when the host returns back to his post, Harry beams at Roni.  “So? What do you think?”

“It’s cute!” Roni says. “It’s weird because I’ve been here but you know, like… in the 90s.”

“Yeah?  Is it pretty much the same?”

“Not at all,” Roni laughs.  “I mean the big dance area kind of looks the same I guess.  But it’s a huge roller rink.”

“A what?” Harry scrunches up his face, but doesn’t even give Roni a chance to answer him. “Oh, like for roller skates?”

“Yeah!”

Harry looks out at the dance floor thoughtfully. “Gee. So that area is just filled with people roller skating, huh?  That’s odd to think about.”

The waiter approaches, quickly shifting both Harry and Roni’s attention.  He informs them that his name is Stanley, goes over a few of the food specials for the evening, and then asks them what they’d like to drink.  Harry orders a lemonade, and then both he and Stanley turn to Roni expectantly.

“Yeah, uh, I’ll take a rum and coke, please.”

If a record-scratch silence was such a thing in these times, it would have happened at that exact moment.  Stanley, the people at the next table over, and even Harry all stare at her as if her order is the most scandalous thing they’ve ever heard.  Roni stares back blankly, trying to gather what on earth the problem could be, before finally looking to Harry for help.

Harry catches on quickly, laughing dryly and leaning across the table to place a hand on Roni’s.  “She’s joking, of course,” he says.  “She’ll just have a coca-cola.  Please.  Thank you so much.”

Stanley lingers a moment, as if processing what just happened, before turning slowly on his heels and making his way to the kitchen.

When Harry is sure the waiter is out of earshot, he leans across the table with a serious look.  “Don’t do that,” he hisses quietly.

“Do what?!” Roni asks incredulously.  “Order a drink?  What, are women not allowed to drink here?”

Harry chuckles.  “Actually no one is.”

“What the fuck?” Roni says, biting her tongue the moment it escapes her lips because she knows she shouldn’t be cursing like that in public.  Not here at least. She glances around to make sure no one heard her, then lowers her voice.  “Why not?”

Harry grins smugly.  “You mean to tell me the prohibition isn’t something significant in the future?  Like it just… ends?”

Roni rolls her eyes.  “Oh god,” she says.  “The prohibition.  Forgot about that.”

“Ah.”  Harry nods.  “So you’ve heard of it.”

Roni pouts.  “Yeah, and it sucks.”

“You’re telling me,” Harry says through a laugh.

“I guess just a coke is fine though,”  Roni admits.  “Probably don’t need anything making me more disoriented me more than I already am.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Roni sighs, glancing around the restaurant again in another attempt to take it all in.  When she catches the eye of an older lady a few tables over, she notices the woman is frowning at her, and she shifts in her seat. “Are people staring?  They’re definitely staring.  Did you button me up wrong?”

“I didn’t,” Harry says. “Maybe they’re staring because of how beautiful you look.”

Roni’s cheeks grow hot and she rolls her eyes, but she can’t suppress the smile on her face. “Harry--”

“I’m serious!” he says.  “That dress is divine.  I must say, whoever picked it for you has excellent taste.”

“Hey, I picked it out, too.” Roni sticks her tongue out at Harry.

“Maybe so,” Harry says with a shrug,  “But of the two of us, I’m the one with the fashion sense here.”

Roni opens her mouth to protest, but Harry only rises to his feet and holds his hand out for her. “Anyway,” he says, “care to dance?”

At first Roni feels awkward on the crowded dance floor.  Everyone around her seems so experienced, and there she is stumbling around like she’s never even heard music before in her life.  She accidentally bumps into several people, and Harry always calmly apologizes for her before jumping right into the impromptu dance lesson he’s giving her.  Of course she feels bad, but he’s so encouraging (and went through all the trouble to get them here), so she puts on a brave face and soldiers through it.

By about four songs in, however, Roni’s insecurities wash further and further away with every smile or word of praise Harry gives her, and suddenly it feels like they’re the only two in the entire building.

The familiar opening chords of The Charleston begin booming from the orchestra, and Harry and Roni immediately exchange open-mouthed grins.  “You know this one!” Harry yells over the music, already beginning to tap his feet.

“No I don’t!” Roni giggles, already being swept off her feet by Harry.

Once again they’re laughing like children, stumbling over one another while Harry shouts incoherent commands at her.  

“Remember? Left, kick, left--- Veronica, focus!”

“I can’t! Not with everyone around!”

Roni finally allows her giggles to get the best of her, letting go of Harry and hunching over to clutch her belly.  Harry watches her, an endeared smile on his lips, before reaching to take her hand again. “Veronica--”

“Wait!” Roni stands up straight. “Wait, it’s my turn. Let me show you how it’s done. Ever heard of this one?”

She starts half-jumping, half- running in place and Harry lets out a loud cackle. “What on earth are you doing?”

“It’s called the running man!” Roni calls back.  “All the rage where I come from!”

Harry’s face grows redder by the second from laughing so hard, and he lets out a hacking cough. “Oh my god, you look ridiculous!”

“Yeah? Like that one? How about this one?”  Roni places her hands on either side of her face, framing her head and moving her hands from her cheeks to her chin and top of her head. . “This one is called Vogue-ing.”

Harry wipes at his eyes, clutching his stomach. “Veronica,” he says through a wet laugh, “Please, no more.”

“And here’s a classic!”  Roni goes completely stiff, bending her arms at the elbows and moving robotically. “They call this one the robot!”

“God,” Harry shakes his head, face now beet read from laughing. “You’re so bloody weird.”

“You aren’t gonna try it with me?” Roni asks.  “I try your weird dances with you!”

Harry rolls his eyes, but he knows she’s got a point. “It’s not the same.”

“It doesn’t matter!” Roni calls back. “C’mon, just try the robot one time.”

Harry glances nervously around before deciding to just completely throw caution to the wind and join her.  He goes stiff as well, mimicking her movements in the most forced and uncomfortable looking way.

Now it’s her turn to laugh, and she lets out the most adorable cackle Harry thinks he’s ever heard. “Ha! You’ve got it!”

“Do I look absolutely mental?” Harry asks through a grin.

“Absolutely, babe,” Roni says with a nod.

“Good!” Harry starts moving faster, knowing damn well he isn’t doing this dance correctly at all, until Roni can’t even dance anymore. She’s nearly on the ground with how hard she’s laughing, and both she and Harry completely ignore the dirty looks from everyone around them who’s actually taking their dancing seriously.

Harry is completely out of breath by the end of the song, and he genuinely feels he’s going to be sore tomorrow.  

But if it meant seeing Roni this happy and full of laughter, he’d take her out dancing every single night.

---

“So what was it like?”

Roni turns to Harry.  “What?”

Roni and Harry are walking home side by side, and Roni is carrying her shoes-- even though Harry had informed her several times how filthy the ground was. When they’d finally decided to stop dancing and sit down for dinner, they’d launched immediately into conversation, covering just about any topic under the sun. Harry marvels at how easy it is to talk to Roni, and he reckons he could sit and listen to her talk about absolutely nothing for days on end.

“The moment you traveled back.  I know you said it was a lucid dream of sorts, but what was it really like?  Was it like you were flying?”

“No, not really,” Roni says, and she takes a moment to think of how to explain this to him.  “It was just like walking.  But I couldn’t walk fast enough.  I wasn’t being threatened or anything.  I just knew I had somewhere to go and I didn’t think I’d get there in time.”

“Where were you trying to go?  You’d mentioned something about the 1980s… is that correct?  Something about your mum?”

Roni smiles sadly at him.  “You remember me saying that?”

“‘Course I do.”  Harry notices the sadness of Roni’s features, and he lowers his voice.  “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s okay,” Roni says wistfully.  “I wanted to go to 1985. That was the year I lost my mom.  In a car accident.”

“Oh, Veronica,” Harry coos. “I’m so sorry.”

“Cars were… well, are a lot different where I come from.  People drive like assholes.  Pardon the language.”  Harry smirks to himself.  Since when does Roni feel the need to apologize for her language?  He doesn’t have time to tease her, however, and he figures now is not the time.  So he lets her continue.

“So mom was driving to work one morning.  And this guy fell asleep at the wheel.  A trucker.  He’d been driving all night.”  Roni seems lost in her own thoughts, and Harry hangs on her every word.  “And it sucks because… it was just like any other day, you know?  We just said a normal goodbye.  She was planning on ordering pizza that night when she got home.   I asked her to take me to the pool, and she couldn’t.  She was working overtime so that she could pay for this stupid class trip for me.”  Roni shakes her head bitterly, and Harry wants to say something, but he decides to let her sort through her own thoughts.

“I just thought that… maybe if I could go back to that day I could stop her, do you know what I mean?  I thought I could maybe warn her not to leave.  She would’ve listened to me.”  Roni chuckles softly to herself.  “I was always good at persuading her.”

They round the corner, beginning their ascent up the steps to Harry’s apartment.  He finally speaks as he fumbles with his keys.  “You know you can’t give up, right?  You’ve proven that time travel is real, now it’s just a matter of perfecting the specifics.”

Roni shrugs as Harry pushes his creaky front door open for her to walk through.  “I suppose,” she says, “I just don’t know if I want to risk going to another unfamiliar time period.  I’m not sure anyone else would be as kind as you.”

Her words tug at Harry’s heart strings as he locks the door behind him.  “Can I say something?”

Roni kicks off her shoes.  “Of course.”

“I’m really glad you showed up here.”  When Roni shoots Harry a look that says “don’t be cheesy,”  he giggles.  “I mean it! You’re somebody that I feel very, very lucky to have met.  You’re an incredible person.”

“Oh stop it.”  Roni and Harry make their way through the living room, while Harry begins unbuttoning his jacket and Roni fumbles to untie the neck-tie that has been itching her skin all night.

“I’m serious,” Harry says.  “You’re intelligent.  And witty.”

Roni smirks at him.  “Alright fine, keep going.”

“And funny,”  Harry adds with a pointed look.  “Gosh, Veronica, no one makes me laugh as hard as you do, you know that?”

“The feeling is mutual, dude.”  Roni frowns down at the knot that she still hasn’t been able to get untied, and Harry keeps talking.

“You keep me on my toes, but in the best way.”  Harry wiggles out of his jacket, placing it neatly over the back of a chair. “I never know what to expect from you.”

“Good,” Roni says, distracted and still scowling at the stubborn knot.  “I want to keep it that way.”

“You’re unlike any woman-- no, any person in general, I have ever met in my life.  And I’ve met a lot of people, you know.  You’re someone special.  I feel like you were meant to come into my life, even if you came from the future.  And--”  Harry trails off when he notices her struggling. “Do you need help with that?”

Roni frowns up at him, finally giving up.  “How tight did you tie this thing?!”

Harry laughs, making his way over to her.  “Alright, c’mere.  Let me see.”

It feels good to be this close to Roni again, and although they’d spent the last roughly three and a half hours dancing closely, this feels so much better.  Harry feels the same nervous energy he’d felt while tying this thing, but somehow he’s more confident about it now, and he doesn’t shy away from standing so close to her.

“You can keep going on about how great I am if you want,” Roni teases.

“Oh can I?” Harry asks.  “Thank you for your blessing, madam.”

“Anytime!”

Harry smiles, working at the knot gently and really searching to find the right words in his mind.  “Suppose everything I’ve been saying is rather sappy, innit?”

“I don’t mind.”

Harry’s heart pounds at her words, although he isn’t exactly nervous.  “Well, may I say something else sappy?”

“We’ve made it this far, haven’t we?”

“Fair.”  Harry smiles.  Admittedly, he’s got the knot figured out and could easily side the tie off with no problem. But he likes having something for his fingers to fidget with, and he definitely  likes having his fingers so near her body.  “On top of everything else I’ve said, you are… undoubtedly… the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.”

Roni’s mouth falls open so subtly that Harry would have missed it if it wasn’t for the almost inaudible gasp that accompanied the movement.  He doesn’t look at her eyes, he instead focuses on the knot-- which he is now halfway done with.

“Harry.”

“Pardon me if I’m being too forward, Veronica.  I just think it’s high time that I let you know that.  You deserve to be told that every day.”

Harry shakes the knot a bit, effectively loosening it so that it practically slides off.  But he doesn’t let go of the fabric, holding it loosely on either side of her neck.  He swallows and she lets out a shaky breath, eyes darting frantically along his face as if she can’t decide on a place for them to land.  The mood in the room has shifted entirely just from his one confession, because they both know that his words hold so much more depth to them.  He isn’t just complimenting her to fill the silence.  He means it, and he means so much more by it.

“Can I say something as well?”  Roni says quietly, and Harry only nods.  “You’re… the most wonderful person I’ve ever known, Harry.  And I wish… I wish I’d met you sooner.”

“I consider myself incredibly lucky to have met you,” Harry says.  “And I... I don’t know how long you’re going to be here with me for.  But I already wish I had longer with you.  And I wish you were mine.”

Roni licks her lips as their eyes finally meet.  They both wear looks of confusion, a bit of fear, and so much yearning that it would make Roni sick on any other day.  But now she’s here, and she’s feeling something she’s honestly never felt in her life.  She smiles, reaching up slowly to cup his cheek and run her thumb over the spot where his dimple lives.

“I wish that, too,” she says breathlessly.

Finally. Finally it’s the moment they’ve both been waiting for for so long.  Harry tugs lightly on the tie, pulling Roni in so close that their faces are practically touching.  It would be so easy for them to just do it, just tilt their heads the slightest bit and kiss already.  Roni feels jittery and shaky, and Harry reaches up to take the wrist of the hand that cups his face.

They’re so close that Roni can feel the warmth radiating off of his skin, and she swallows down all of the words that she’s dying to say.  She licks her lips, only briefly giving in to the “what if’s” swimming around in her brain, and she removes her eyes from his swollen pink lips.  She scans the dip of his cupid’s bow, the little mole on the corner of his chin, the point of his nose, and finally his green eyes that match the intensity on his face.  Memories of the image she’d woken up to this morning float back into her mind,-- images of him, naked and swollen and whining-- and this time she lets them linger for a moment.  Enjoying the way the sight had made her feel.  Enjoying the way that that same hand feels now against her wrist.

“Harry,” Roni whispers.

Harry bumps his nose to hers, lips so close that she can practically taste them.  “Yes, love?”

Roni wants to stop herself from saying what she’s about to say.  More than anything she wants to give in to this boy who’s standing so close to her, she wants to fasten their lips together and taste him.  She wants to kiss his neck, and she wants him to kiss hers.  She wants to touch him, lick him, bury him inside of her until they pass out from exhaustion.  And she wants to wake up tomorrow and do it all over again.

But instead, she says something she almost instantly regrets.

“I can’t.”

[billyhargrovesbabe]

you should see me in a crown | pt. 1

The first part of the series is here, and I’m honestly super excited! I’ve had a lot of fun planning and writing. I’m hoping to update pretty regularly, and I’d love to hear what you guys think. It’s gonna be a slow burn and a longer series. I have about fifteen chapters planned so far, but it might wind up being longer than that depending on how it goes. The first few chapters are written and ready for proofreading, so it shouldn’t be too long a wait. Feel free to comment or message your thoughts or if you want to be added to the tag list!

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of a bad past relationship, but I don’t think much else aside from that

Words: 2,664

intro | pt. 1

The first time Billy Hargrove approached you was practically straight out of a scene from a movie. If there had been a camera on you on that fateful October day, it would’ve been teen heartthrob gold.

The bell for lunch had just rung, and your classmates stampeded through the school in true high school fashion. The wafting smell of Friday pizza from the cafeteria down the hall wasn’t exactly mouth-watering, but it was enough to encourage you to get to your own slice as quickly as possible. You knew your girls would have your slice already waiting for you, used to their captain’s pre-lunch ritual. You were eagerly throwing your textbooks into your locker when it hit you.

The smell of cigarettes, hairspray, and men’s aftershave invaded the pleasant smell of lunch, assaulting your senses. The only thought that crossed your mind: here we go again.

You were no stranger to boys (because really, that’s what all these high-schoolers were despite their obvious thoughts otherwise) trying to approach you. Sometimes they were sweet and shy, sometimes they were blunt and upfront, and sometimes they were just obnoxious and crass. Hell, sometimes they were some bizarre combination of the three. Regardless of their approach, they were always met with the same result: denial served with a side of pitying kindness. It wasn’t that they were all pigs or anything. Sometimes guys you genuinely cared about and appreciated were the ones who approached (and they were always the hardest to turn down). You were just tired of the same old drama. Between the girls on your squad who ran to you for everything (like their pseudo mother hen) and your own... experience during your freshman year, you had suffered through more than your fair share of painfully awkward relationship drama. Besides, you had more to worry about. You had a squad to lead, a school to run, and a college resume to build. The times you were approached tended to be few and far between, so it wasn’t a frequent occurrence anyways.

Guys, in general, seemed to be intimidated by you. You’d think a girl who was smart, funny, kind, feisty, and a student leader would be dream girlfriend material, right? Apparently, that only worked for the heroines in teen romcoms. Once upon a time, it used to frustrate you: now, you welcomed the reprieve. Steve was the only one who could really hold his own, and you two had never been more than friends. All the others were too terrified. Those who weren’t scared off by your reputation and dating history usually backed off when they had to talk to you around your squad. You typically had at least one or two of your girls back you up. Besides, it wasn’t like you had a bunch of spare time to waste on guys. This was the only time of the day you could really be found alone. You enjoyed the quiet solace of stopping by your locker during lunch, especially on Fridays when all the other students in Hawkins rushed to get a slice of the weekly pizza. The hallways were typically bare, and people had learned not to mess with you during your locker breaks. Between cheer practice after school, the many social needs of your squad and demands of being captain, and your rigorous course load (because you were getting into college and as far away from Hawkins as possible), you rarely had time to yourself. And you loved it. You really did. But these precious five minutes at your locker during lunch was the only time you were really able to breathe. They were sacred, and everyone knew that.

So who the fuck was stupid enough to interrupt that?

With a dramatic sigh, you stretched your cheeks into what you hoped was some semblance of a smile (even if it was a painfully fake one). You could sense them, whoever they were, on the other side of your locker door. And they didn’t seem to be budging any time soon. You tried to stall for time, mentally counting down the seconds of freedom you had left.

Ten... You grabbed your calculus book and practically chucked it in your locker.

Nine... You shoved your composition book into your backpack.

Eight... You tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

Seven... You prayed this jackass would take the hint.

Six... No such luck.

Five... You searched both your locker and backpack in vain hope of finding anything else to stall.

Four... You figured you’d have maybe a minute of having to endure some painfully awkward conversation as you secured the lock, zipped your bag, and booked it the fuck out of there.

Three... You mentally double-checked that your fake smile was in place.

Two... You sent up one last Hail Mary they’d take the hint.

One... You took a calming breath.

And your time was up.

You had a sneaking suspicion whoever this was had planned it all out.

The hallways were practically empty, with just one or two stragglers making a futile dash for the cafeteria in the hopes there would be some pizza left. Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes met a pair of beautiful, crystal blue irises. Your fake smile dropped for just a moment as you took in sunshine curls, honeyed skin, plush lips, and slightly freckled cheeks. Your eyes traced over the almost gentle features of his face. His sharp cheekbones, lovely nose, and square jaw were practically begging you to cup his face in your hand. And his body... Damn. Nothing delicate there. You knew your fair share of jocks and hunky boys. But none of them compared to this. He wore a faded jean jacket, and he filled out every inch of it. It was clear he was buff, but you’d bet he was cut too. This blond in front of you was... Well, he was beautiful. You had never met a man (because fuck, but that’s what he was) who left you so thoroughly speechless. And then he had to go and ruin it by opening his mouth.

“Like what ya see, sweetheart? Cause I certainly do.” The lazy drawl matched his lax stance as he leaned against the lockers. He was posing for you, you quickly realized. This was a guy who knew exactly what he was working with, and he wasn’t afraid to shamelessly use it. A chill ran down your spine. 

Oh, he had definitely planned it.

Too bad he hadn’t planned for you.

You had more than your fair share of experiences with a guy like that. It wasn’t something you were looking to repeat anytime soon. The smile slid back across your face, a mask you had perfected and an armor you had worked all the chinks out of long ago. You watched, almost bemused, as a flicker of annoyance slid across his face. He knows, a voice whispered in the back of your mind. He knows you’re putting walls up. He can see it.

“Just getting to know a face I’ve never seen before.” Most guys would take the perky tone and sweet grin for the superficial flirting it appeared to be. The diversion you intended for it to come across as. You had a feeling this guy was smarter than that. You upped the bubbly factor, wanting to see how it would affect him (and a small part of you hoped it would annoy him). “You must be new to Hawkins. Welcome!” You had to stifle a giggle as he visibly bristled.

“Not that new,” he mumbled as he released the smooth facade for just a moment. He was clearly upset by the idea you hadn’t heard of him yet (which, of course, was not the case. Everyone and their mother had about the hot new guy with a killer car, but he didn’t need to know that). He managed to recover relatively quickly though. His eyes widened a fraction before that smirk snapped back into place. “Been here nearly four days, sweetheart. And in those four days, I’ve heard you’re the girl who runs the show around here.”

“And what makes you think that?” You figured playing innocent was the best way to go here. As helpful as your girls were in getting the gossip, it never hurt to have a little more info. No matter how high up the ladder you climbed, it was nearly impossible to get a real grip on the rumor mill here at Hawkins. Secrets and lies just tended to have a way of getting out, so no one ever quite knew what the truth was. Sometimes, you even second-guessed what you knew about yourself.

“Well, you’re the only cute (h/c)-haired, mini-skirted spitfire I’ve met so far. And I’ve made it a point to look out for the... feistier girls. Y/n, right?” Interesting. So he was going to keep his cards as close to his chest as you were. The suggestive smirk he sent you and the emphasis on the word feisty weren’t lost on you. You could hazard a guess as to what he really meant. So, the new kid had done his research. This should be fun.

“I’m so embarrassed. Here you are, knowing all about me, and I don’t even know who you are. What’s your name?” Of course, you knew exactly what his name was before he even said it.

“Some girls might call me the man-they’ve-been-waiting-for, but you can call me Billy.” The smile on his face would dazzle any crowd, leave any competition judge putty in his hands, and make the girls on your squad melt at his feet. It was clear this guy trying to work you over. But that was why you were the captain: you weren’t so quick to fall.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Billy. Hope your first week went well.” And with that abrupt dismissal, you were off. In your years of evading hormonal and horny teenage boys, you had perfected the well-timed retreat. Flirt with them and talk just enough to let them think they’d hooked you, then cut it off quick. You had subtly worked the zipper on your backpack closed during the conversation, so all that was left was to fasten the lock and run. You were only a few steps away before Billy recovered. Impressive. Usually, you could get halfway down the hall as they were left reeling from your attention.

“Y’know, my first week has been fine,” he drawled again as he easily fell into step with you. A slight stab of annoyance tore through your chest. You checked your fake smile. “But it’d be even better if you agreed to show me around this weekend. Since I’m new here and all.” You pretended to consider it. You waited just long enough to make it seem like you weren’t going to turn him down before the words had even left his mouth. You were all about giving new kids a chance, but not when they had interrupted your precious alone time and stood between you and your pizza.

“Sorry, but the squad has practice tomorrow. And then the girls and I have team bonding on Sunday, so I’m all booked for the weekend.” You simpered, throwing a flutter or two of your lashes and a mock pout his way for good measure. You thought you had won that little confrontation until you saw a determined gleam in his eyes.

“I take it you aren’t going to Tina’s Halloween party tomorrow night, then?” Damn. The new boy was already connected enough to cinch an invite to a party? It usually took new kids weeks before they broke into the social scene enough to even hear gossip about the last party. Hawkins might’ve been small, but it was a pretty tight-lipped town when it came to outsiders. This guy must’ve known exactly what he was doing if he had already gotten that far in. And, worst of all, he had you trapped.

After all, you couldn’t exactly lie and say you weren’t going. By now, the two of you were close enough to the cafeteria that there were people around. If you lied, said you weren’t going, and then showed up anyway, it would make you look fake. Two-faced. Bitchy. And you had worked so hard to get your reputation to where it was after the disaster that was your first two years in high school. You were depending on your friendly and kind reputation to get you a student body position next year that would look killer on a college application. You couldn’t run the risk of ruining it because of some gossip about being a bitch to the new kid, who hadn’t even been in town for a week. Besides, that familiar tingling of a guilty conscience seemed to whisper. You barely know the guy. At least give him a chance.

“Silly me,” you forced yourself to giggle for fear of biting the words out instead. You didn’t want to judge him preemptively, but there was something about him that set alarm bells off. “I must’ve forgotten. I can’t believe it’s Halloween already.”

“Honest mistake. I tend to have an effect on girls that leaves them forgetting a lot of things...” He moved to step closer into you, and that was when it hit you. You knew exactly who Billy reminded you of. Eric. Your douchebag of an ex-boyfriend who had left you scarred against relationships. As the blond in front of you leaned over you, you were struck with the flash of an image of green eyes instead of blue. You refused to give ground and carefully tried to breathe. You tried to remind yourself this wasn’t him. Hell, Billy probably didn’t even know the guy existed. He didn’t know what he was doing. He shouldn’t be written off because he reminded you of a monster. But it did send a worrying thought through your mind. You hoped you were wrong, but there was a nagging sense that you couldn’t be too careful. You needed to get away from him, now.

You sent him another falsely sweet smile and quickly scanned the cafeteria over his shoulder. Your eyes desperately searched as you forced yourself to back up a step, feigning butterflies when you were really just trying to buy yourself time. It was Pizza Friday, so he had to be somewhere nearby. He loved Pizza Friday. Nancy told you how he always ditched after class to make sure he got some. Surely he hadn’t wolfed it down that quickly... There. Your eyes landed on the luscious head of hair you had been searching for, and you practically leaped at your chance to escape. You let your eyes flit back to Billy, trying to send him a flirty smile whilst internally panicking.

“Sadly for you, I don’t forget things easily.” You let the words hang in the air, unsure if you meant them as a threat or a promise. If only he knew how true they were. “Guess you just got lucky this time.”

“Oh sweetheart, luck had nothing to do with it.” He stepped in closer again. Your heart had practically crawled up into your throat. You snapped your eyes back to Steve, praying either he or Nancy would somehow sense your distress.

“Y/n!” Steve called, waving you over after catching your eye. Finally, it seemed like someone was up there listening.

“Well, looks like we’ll have to see if lightning strikes twice. Catch you later.” You sidestepped the blond’s advance and, without giving him a chance to respond, made a bee-line for the couple’s table. You had to warn him. You couldn’t be sure, but you had a feeling you knew what the research, the quick invasion of the social scene, and his singling you out immediately meant.

Billy Hargrove was gunning to be king.

And he wouldn’t be the first guy to try and use you to get there.

taglist//

@asheseiler | @chaoticbillywrites | @speedmetalqueen | @keira1416 | @familybusinesswritingbro | @axxl-rose | @hargroves-dingus | @agustdpeach | @gracieadorable | @loveofshows | @queenmissfit | @octaviamoore-15 | @billysgodcomplex | @jojo-buttercup | @salemlysi | @beyxlm | @littledeadgirlwalking

[eddie-boii]

Never Let You Go (part 6/14)

Fic info: Both Eddie and Stan live because I do what I want. Multichapter.

Rating: Teen and up (may change). Language.

Pairings: Reddie, Benverly.

Ao3 link: here

Summary: The Losers prepare for a wedding. Ben’s bachelor party. 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

*

“Beer?”

Eddie accepted the bottle Ben handed to him and quickly checked the ingredients and alcohol percentage as Ben handed out the rest to the others.

“Thanks, man, but I think I’m gonna cut back on the alcohol intake,” said Richie, and Eddie looked over at him in surprise; Richie was never usually one to decline alcohol no matter how much Eddie pestered him about the state of his liver.

“We’ve got lemonade?” Ben offered.

“That’ll do.”

Richie accepted the glass and leaned back in the deck chair, eyes closed contentedly, his long legs stretched out in front of him and the beams of sunlight that filtered through the wooden planks from the balcony above lighting up strands of his dark hair in streams of gold. Eddie caught himself staring and looked away quickly, accidentally making direct eye contact with Stanley who just rolled his eyes. Eddie scowled at him in return.

Ben’s bachelor party was far more subdued than Bev’s; just the guys hanging out on the back porch of Ben’s frankly massive house, watching fall leaves drift down onto the garden, their warm hues lighting up in the glow from the afternoon sun. Warmth still lingered from summer but it wasn’t sweltering, and the Losers - minus Bev - were able to lounge around in light jackets while Ben grilled burgers and hotdogs on the barbecue, the smell of charcoal mingling pleasantly with the sweet scent of the fall air.

“You know shoes were invented for a reason,” said Eddie, grimacing as Ben accidentally dropped a scolding hot sausage onto his bare foot for the second time.

“If you say that again, I’m feeding you the floor hotdogs,” said Ben. “Shoes are restrictive.”

“Also protective.”

“Those floor hotdogs sure have a lot of germs on them, Eddie. You know this is where Ember does her morning piddles.”

Eddie nearly gagged. “And you’re walking barefoot there?!”

“I pressure wash it.” Ben lifted his foot and tried to stick it in Eddie’s face. “My feet are super clean. Here, smell them.”

“I’m not sniffing your fucking foot.”

“Lick it, Eds,” said Richie. “Once in a lifetime opportunity.”

“You are both fucking disgusting,” said Eddie, shoving Ben’s foot out of the way which threw him off balance and straight into Mike’s lap.

“Christ, man, are you sure you lost weight?” Mike groaned. “I think you just broke both my legs.”

“He replaced it all with muscle,” said Stanley, leaning forward to squeeze Ben’s bicep.

“Ooh, if he gets a squeeze,” said Richie, leaning forward too.

“Nope, nope, nope, we are not doing this again,” said Ben, extracting himself from Mike’s lap. “I have burgers to cook and bicep-squeezing privileges are for Bev’s hands alone.”

“Lucky lady,” said Richie with a wink, and Eddie tried not to let his jealousy show.

“So, guys, is anyone going to tell me what actually happened last night?” said Ben. “Bev refuses to say anything.”

Eddie sank down in his chair a little, hiding his face behind the beer bottle so no one could see how red it had gotten. Richie, on the other hand, didn’t seem at all ashamed.

“Let’s see, we got drunk, hired a stripper-”

“A stripper?” Ben squawked.

“Not as hot as you, don’t worry,” said Richie, winking again. “Got more drunk, played some party games, Eddie apparently decided to fuck off and clean my house-”

“It was fucking disgusting,” Eddie protested.

“He’s always been like that,” Bill snorted. “R-remember when we all had that sleepover at mine when we were like twelve and ss-stole my mom’s chardonnay and he ended up downstairs doing laundry?”

“Oh shit, that’s right!” cried Stan, grinning gleefully. “And your mom’s face when she came home and we were all throwing up but she didn’t even get mad coz the house was so clean!”

“Drunken housemaid, that’s our Eds,” said Richie, grinning over at Eddie fondly.

“Don’t call me Eds,” Eddie grumbled, sinking lower in his chair.

“So what happened after?” said Ben, smiling warmly at his friends’ stories as he piled burgers and hotdogs into buns and passed them out on paper plates.

“Then Richie got super friendly,” said Mike.

“I cannot be held responsible for what I did when drunk!” Richie protested, mouth full of burger. God help him, Eddie even found him cute with food spilling out of his mouth.

“What did he do?” said Ben, grinning already in anticipation.

“Only tried to make out with literally everyone there,” said Stanley.

“Did he now?” said Ben, grinning even harder. “I hope you’re not trying to steal my fiance.”

“She wasn’t into it,” Richie pouted. “But if you’re feeling left out, Benny-boy…”

Richie lunged towards Ben who managed to block him just in time, holding him away with ease and laughing as Richie made kissy noises and grabby hands at him.

“Ok, ok, you can kiss my cheek,” said Ben when Richie didn’t relent. Ben turned his cheek towards him and Richie leaned in but grabbed his face at the last minute and smashed their mouths together.

“Success!” cried Richie, pulling back and raising his hands in victory while Ben wiped his mouth and tried to stop laughing. “I have now made out with every Loser!”

“You d-d-didn’t use tongue with him, it doesn’t count,” said Bill.

“Don’t you dare,” said Ben, holding his hands out in front of him defensively when Richie looked like he was about to try again. “We’ll say it counts.”

Richie held up his hands in surrender and finally sat back down. “Whatever you say, Benny-boo.”

“You know how fucking revolting that is right?” said Eddie. “You know how many diseases pass via saliva? You could get mono, you know?”

“What’s the matter, Eddie-spaghetti, are you jealous?” said Richie, turning to grin at him obnoxiously.

“No, I’m not fucking jealous,” said Eddie which was a huge fucking lie.

“You know you’re still my number one guy, Eddie Bear,” Richie cooed, pinching Eddie’s cheek until Eddie swatted his hand away. “Well, right after your mom.”

“I hate you.”

“If that’s what you wanna call it,” coughed Stan and Eddie glared at him.

By the time everyone had eaten enough food to last them the whole winter, the sun was dipping low in the sky and the air had gained a chill more reminiscent of fall, so the Losers packed up the deck chairs and headed indoors to lounge on the stylish but comfortable couches and snoop through Ben’s things.

“Holy shit, you have all my shows on DVD?” said Richie from where he was sat cross-legged on the floor, eying up Ben’s impressive film collection as Ember snoozed in his lap, something that Eddie found revoltingly cute. “Didn’t know you were such a fan.”

“They’re Bev’s, actually,” said Ben. “From back before we all remembered. She said she never actually watched them but bought them all anyway coz she just liked having them.”

“Huh, that’s so weird,” said Richie, smiling slightly as he brushed his fingers over the plastic covers of the selection.

“I’ve seen them all,” said Eddie before thinking, and Richie looked sharply up at him, eyes wide.

“You have?” he said, his mouth splitting into a very egotistical grin

“Fucking hated them,” said Eddie, which wiped the grin straight off Richie’s face. “Your jokes never felt right. Guess subconsciously I just knew they didn’t sound like yours.”

“But you still watched them all?” commented Stanley.

Eddie shot him a look to tell him to shut his mouth, then shrugged. “I don’t know, I guess some part of me just…”

“Missed me?” Richie finished, that shit-eating grin back on his face.

“Yeah, whatever, dickwad,” said Eddie. “Myra fucking hated you, for the record.”

Richie gasped dramatically. “How could she? The love of my life!”

“I thought Eddie’s mm-mom was the love of your life,” said Bill.

“Same thing.”

Eddie threw a cushion at him and Richie batted it away before it hit the dog.

“You know, I went to one of your shh-sh-shows once,” said Bill as if only just remembering. “Friend of mine d-dragged me to it.”

“Did you at least like it, Big Bill?” said Richie as he put on his most exaggerated puppy dog face.

“As much as you liked the endings of my books,” said Bill, and Richie pouted, affronted. “Nothing beats real Rich’s jokes,” Bill added, which seemed to cheer Richie up.

“Don’t inflate his ego,” said Stanley, rolling his eyes. “He’ll never shut up now.”

“You know you love me, Stan-the-man.”

“So you read Bill’s books?” Ben asked Richie. “Before we remembered?”

“Oh yeah. Got the whole set back home,” said Richie.

“I went to a signing once,” said Stanley, and Bill looked over at him in surprise. “It was like your first book and I had no idea who you were, but you were in town so I went. Had no idea why, but-”

“Part of you knew,” finished Mike. “I went to one of those book signings too.”

It was Mike’s turn to be stared at.

“Yy-you did?” said Bill.

“Couldn’t stay long or I’d start forgetting, but yeah, man,” said Mike. “You were in Maine and I couldn’t resist.”

“But I wouldn’t have-” said Bill. “I didn’t recognise you.”

“No,” said Mike. “But it’s fine, man. You all remember now, that’s what matters.”

“But you could remember the whole time,” said Ben.

“That really must have sucked, man,” said Richie.

Mike shrugged, looking a little self-conscious. “I mean… Yeah. At first, when you’d just moved out and you never replied to any of my letters, I thought… I thought maybe you just didn’t wanna talk to me anymore.”

“Shit, man,” said Bill, reaching out to squeeze Mike’s hand. “You know we would never…”

“Yeah, I know,” said Mike. “I know you guys aren’t like that. That’s when I figured it had to have something to do with It.”

“You were still all alone,” Eddie said, almost a whisper. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like if he remembered the Losers while they couldn’t remember him, if they were out there living their lives while he was stuck at home with his mother, never responding to messages or calls. If he saw them in person only to be met with irrecognition, their eyes passing over him blankly as though he were just another stranger. And, god, if Richie ever looked at him like that...

“It wasn’t so bad,” said Mike, smiling at them all in a clear attempt to be reassuring. “I kept track of you, watched your careers grow. I was so proud of you all… I’m glad I can tell you that now. I love you guys.”

“You better shut up before Richie starts crying,” said Stanley who seemed to be the one actually close to tears. He smiled at Mike. “Love you too, man.”

“Yeah, thanks for dragging us all back to that shithole,” said Richie, “or we wouldn’t be here now.”

“I wouldn’t be getting married,” said Ben.

“I wouldn’t be divorced,” said Eddie. “That’s a good thing,” he added when Mike looked concerned.

“You mm-made me have to go back to speech therapy,” said Bill teasingly before nudging Mike with his shoulder and squeezing his hand again. “But it’s all worth it.”

“Gay,” said Richie.

“Aaand you ruined the moment,” said Eddie.

“Glad I could be of service.”

“God, how did we survive without each other?” said Ben. 

“Barely,” said Stan quietly, tugging down his sleeves a little.

The others fell silent for a time until Richie, being Richie, decided to lighten the mood.

“I’m thinking of getting a dog!” he said a little too brightly as he scratched Ember behind the ears. He grinned up at Eddie. “A little pomeranian called Penny. What do you think, Eds?”

“I am terminating our friendship effective immediately,” said Eddie, and just like that, the shadow that had fallen over them was lifted.

Ben lit a fire in the hearth and they all lounged around it, basking in the warm glow as they fell back into easy conversation. Ember migrated to Eddie’s lap which he was very smug about until Richie squeezed up next to him to be able to pet the dog, but Eddie was secretly quite content with a dog on his lap and Richie at his side, like something out of one of his more domestic fantasies.

Bill told ghost stories somehow scarier than their experience with Pennywise, and Stan calmed them all down afterwards by rambling about types of birds, which everyone paid rapt attention to because Stan talking about his favourite thing, his face lit up and hands waving around excitedly, was a joy to watch even if no one else cared all that much about the topic. 

Later on, Ben showed them all an old photo album he’d found at his parents’ house of them all as kids, and Mike pointed to the odd picture and excitedly reminded them all about the time they all dressed as each other for Halloween, or the time Richie got suspended for filling a kid’s locker with shaving foam for picking on Eddie, or the time they all went as each other’s dates to Homecoming and tried to dance all together in one chaotic circle.

The fire was warm, and the beer seeped into Eddie’s limbs and made him drowsy, his eyes slipping shut as he listened to Richie and Stanley argue over who had the better homecoming outfit. The next thing he knew, he was waking up in the middle of the night half-draped across Richie with his face buried in his chest, Ember curled up in the small space between them, Mike leaning against his shoulder with Ben against his, and Bill propped up against his legs with Stan’s head in his lap, all fast asleep. He’d fallen asleep with his phone in his hand, and when he checked it, he found a text from Bev who must have come home while they were all sleeping, for it showed a picture of them all cuddled up to one another fast asleep on the couch. He would have been annoyed, but he had to admit it was kind of cute.

[11:25pm] Queen B: [image.jpg]

[11:25pm] Queen B: My boys <333

Eddie smiled slightly and saved the photo to his camera roll, then let his head fall back against Richie’s warm chest, not really caring that the fabric of his shirt scratched his cheek or that no one had brushed their teeth. This was a night for the Losers.

*

Previous Next

[mortaljin]

Wonder Emporium

Word Count: 6.9k Warnings: Cursing, accusation of infidelity, struggling relationships. Genre: Angst. Some fluff. Mainly angst Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Female Reader 

Summary: You and Kim Taehyung reminisce on where your love began, where it thrived, and where it went wrong. All over some great fucking cookies.

Masterlist 

There comes a moment in everyone’s life where it seems fitting to reminisce on the decisions they have made. For some people, it is the opportunities that life presented them with that they either accepted or refused, choosing one destiny over another. Others look back on the people they used to be, used to know, and used to love.

You are no exception.

Kim Taehyung is no exception.

“Do you remember when Annie opened her first store?”

You hummed in reply to his question—asked as a form of small talk—while a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. His eyes fell outside the fogged window and landed on the vacant street in front of the store. Yours landed on the perfectly polished, perfectly styled furniture of the café that you and Taehyung had come to love over the years.

A distant memory came to the forefront of your mind and just like the man sitting in front of you—you were sure—you couldn’t help but think of that evening.

“So, the professor has the audacity to send out a summer reading assignment a month before the semester starts! This book has fourteen-hundred pages for fucks sake!”

You were seething, and Kim Taehyung just walked by your side in silence. He was unsure whether to laugh or take pity on you. So, he decided to just be an ass.

“Welllll,” he drew out. “You are the one who decided to go to this school.”

You lifted your hand to flick his bare shoulder, “fuck off,” you grumbled into the warm night air.

He laughed at you then, grabbing your hand and pulling you close to his side. You giggled too, letting him trap you against his sticky body. The streets were empty—you knew it would be; the only people out on Monday night in the summer were the kids who didn’t have to go to school or didn’t have to work.

It was peaceful though, roaming the streets for the hell of it. Kim Taehyung was like that, always doing things for no particular reason at all.

A moment of comfortable silence fell between the two of you and there was comfort to be found in the repetitive echo of your footsteps bouncing off the brick walls. You were half a breath and a heartbeat away from saying something else to him, but the involuntary tug on your hand made you pause.

He had stopped in his tracks and his face was turned up to gaze at the neon lights shining down to him. A normal first reaction would be to follow his line of sight and see what he’s looking at, but you got caught up in him.

You always basked in every opportunity you could to examine his features; the softness of his cheek and the curvature of his nose were features that were already embedded into your brain.

You always basked in every opportunity you could to continue your unrequited pining over your best friend.

His eyes flicked downwards, and you were afraid he would soon glance your way. So, you finally turned your head to see what he was staring at.

ANNIE’S WONDER EMPORIUM

The sign was lit up in an obnoxious yellow color, one that reminded you all too well of the summer sun.

“How long has this been here?” You asked when Taehyung took a step towards the front door. You heard the tap of his finger against glass and caught a glimpse of him pointing towards the NOW OPEN sign. “Oh.”

You barely caught the door before it swung shut, and the little bell attached to the top of it signaled your entrance behind your oh so caring boyfriend.

“Welcome to Annie’s Wonder Emporium!” There was a woman who looked to be in her mid-forties standing behind the counter wearing an apron that was equally as summery as the sign outside.

“Uhhh—” You stammered, overwhelmed by her bold, outgoing presence.

“Hi! How are you?” But thankfully, Taehyung was enough of a social butterfly for you.

The woman sighed in defeat, and her shoulders slumped forward ever so slightly in response to the question. She opened her mouth to speak, but Taehyung beat her to it.

“Rough day huh?”

She nodded, wiping her hands on the apron before she got a word out. “Opening your own café is a lot harder than I thought it would be.”

You and Taehyung let out a soft ‘ah’ when you realized that it was supposed to a little bakery or coffee shop of the sorts.

“Well, have people not been liking your treats?”

Annie, you assumed her name was Annie given that she owned the store, shook her head towards him and pursed her lips.

“No, everyone who comes in seems to be enjoying everything, from the cookies to the coffees but…” she sighed again, “no one is coming in! They peer in like they’re interested, but they just walk away.”

“Well, to be honest it’s hard to tell what you’re selling. I like the name, but the real question is how does it apply to the café?”

Taehyung turned and glanced your way at your bluntness before turning towards the owner. “What would be your staple item?”

Her eyes widened for a moment and you could see the excitement fill her face when asked about something that is so intrinsically her. She pardoned herself for a moment, scurrying to the back. Meanwhile you gave Taehyung a curious look, but he merely shrugged.

While she was gone, you took a second to inspect the place. Your average black and white tiles covered the floor, and mix-matched colored chairs were placed near their respective bleak tables.

The place was clean no doubt, but it was a cookie cutter template of a café. Clearly it had been recently renovated from another business to this one.

Annie came back with a tray in her hand with two cookies on it. One in the shape of a crescent moon, the other in the shape of a star. There was a slight bit of warmth still radiating from them.

The icing on top is what pulled you in; swirls of blue, purple, and pink with flecks of white on top reminded you of the galaxy trend that had stormed the internet in recent years.

Cute, you murmured to yourself.

“Go on, try it.”

The two of you reached for a separate cookie—him the star and you the moon—and you were quick to take a bite of it.

Two moans of satisfaction sounded through the empty café, and Annie was no doubt pleased.

“This is so fucking good,” Taehyung finally got out when he was done chewing. “You need a picture of this cookie covering your front window because this is to die for!”

You, still in ecstasy, could only nod in agreement.

“Oh, I know,” she said solemnly, “right now marketing is a little out of the budget. But as you can see, I just have—” she lifted her arm up to gesture around the quiet and still empty café “—no budget.”

Taehyung understood what she was getting at and, once she was done talking, he pulled his wallet out from his back pocket. After fishing around for a moment, he pulled out what he was looking for.

“I do photography, and I’d be more than willing to help you out,” he smiled his boxy grin and held the card between his two forefingers, outstretched in her direction.

“I couldn’t—It won’t—”

He waved her off, still smiling. “It’s alright, a cookie this great has the right to be known by the entire world.”

She smiled, cheeks flushing in humility.

It was moments like this, when his charitable personality became applicable to the real world, that the ever-present flutter in your heart grew twice its size. Annie murmured a thank you, and you continued to look on in silence as he chatted with her for a moment longer. You listened on with fondness, because it was honestly so damn endearing that he could make friends wherever he went.

“Oh! By the way, how much are the cookies?” He pulled his wallet out again when he realized the two of you were beginning to walk away without paying.

Annie smiled, waving her hand in the air to say that it wasn’t important. “Don’t even worry about it, I counted my register early, anyway.”

It was your turn to panic, and you apologized profusely for keeping her so late. But, she disregarded it saying that it had been no problem.

“It’s the least I can do for you two lovebirds. Thank you for giving my wonder emporium a chance.”

Your eyes widened in horror when you realize she misunderstood you and Taehyung. “Oh no, we’re not—!”

Taehyung elbowed your side, turning your protest into muffled yep. “Thank you so much, we’ll be sure to tell all our friends about this place!”

You didn’t have a chance to fight him before you were whisked away into the summer night air.

“Taehyung, why didn’t you let me correct her! That’s so embarrassing!”

“Actually,” he started to say, turning to walk away from the store front. “I want to talk to you about that.”

He walked a couple paces ahead and sound down on the street bench, reaching out towards you. You followed him skeptically, unsure of what was on his mind.

“I-I’m just gonna get straight to the point.”

He paused; you were about to voice some concern about how odd he was being, but he continued talking instead.

“I really like you, Y/N. I always have and I think I always will. Do you think I have a shot at being your boyfriend?”

“The cookies are still just as good as they were when we walked in here a week after it opened,” you replied after the lapse of silent reminiscing.

He nodded his head in reply, picking up the last bit of his own cookie. Pulling a dramatically sad face, he shoved the last bite in his mouth; pitiful, fake sounds of crying could be heard from his full mouth as he “wept” about the loss of the cookie.

Your hand came up to stifle your laugh, not that it needed to; the solemn cloud hanging over you was enough to curb all happiness right now.

You kept your lips slightly parted as words stuck to the tipoff your tongue in preparation to continue talking. But when Taehyung finished chewing and raised his eyes back to you, you lost all sense of communication.

His brown eyes were halfway hidden behind damp, unkempt fringe—the remnants of a fashionable hairstyle lost to the shower he must have taken this morning. You knew he must have taken a shower this morning because in all the time you’ve known him, Kim Taehyung has been loyal to the same damned body wash scent.

The scent made you yearn for chilly mornings when he would crawl back into bed—your bed—still wet, but smelling oh so clean.

Instead, you had to stick your nose into your hot chocolate to erase the smell and the memories.

Taehyung tilted his head, no doubt curious about your thoughts. Instead of confessing that you indulged on that memory, you diverted the conversation to a different one.

“Remember when we graduated from Uni and our friends bought us that massive cake?”

You threw your hands out a little bit to emphasize just how unnecessarily gigantic that thing was. As if he needed the reminder.

He laughed after that, head tilting back a little as he remembered. “Yeah, and how it somehow showed up with blue, green, pink, and purple frosting on it?”

Biting back a snicker, you glanced over at Annie working endlessly behind the counter. A piping bag of the aforementioned colors was in one hand, and the other hand held the sheet of cookies steady.

“I wonder if Annie knew that she was making that cake for us,” you mused as you got lost in watching the rhythmic movement of her hand. “Or if she makes everything with such love.”

He shrugged, “who knows. But the star and moon cookies on top looked oddly familiar.”

You agreed. Annie caught your stare from across the room and you waved to her when even she gave you a look of concern.

An unsettling feeling came to your stomach when you realized it had been so long since the two of you had seen her. There was so much to say.

To her. To your friends. To Taehyung.

Shifting in your seat, you brought the lukewarm and mostly empty cup of cocoa to your lips as a means to avoid the conversation.

“Taehyung baby, look!” Your face was smushed up against the cold glass next to your booth, and your eyes were wide and child-like as you gazed outside.

It was about four in the afternoon, but you wouldn’t be able to tell if you didn’t have a watch. The weather outside was cold, cloudy, but oh so wintery.

“It’s the first snow of the season. Taehyung! Look!”

He only chuckled, glancing briefly towards the empty street. “I wonder if its gonna stick. The first one rarely does.”

He tapped his fingers against Annie’s brand new table; sleek black with a gray marbled effect. Annie’s oven was in dire need of an upgrade, given how long it was taking for your simple order. However, the two of you would wait a lifetime for them.

You sighed dreamily. It was almost movie-like how cliché the scenery was. “I feel like I’m in a hallmark movie.”

An ugly snort came from his nose and he raised a brow, “oh?”

You blushed and awkwardly laughed. “Well yeah, you know how they go…” You paused. “The cute café, the winter wonderland outside, the girl is falling in love over some to die for cookies.”

You took a bite out of your cookie, still slightly warm and gooey despite the delay to eating it. The cookie had barely made it to your mouth, and your teeth hadn’t gone all the way in when you noticed a very perplexed look on Taehyung’s face.

“Wha?” You said with your mouth full of that first bite of the moon shaped cookie.

“You’re falling in love with me?”

The way he said it so calmly and bluntly caused you to choke on your mouthful a little. You reached for your hot chocolate, or thankfully, not-so-hot chocolate. Hurriedly, you gulped the drink down and wiped your mouth on your napkin.

“I—” You paused. “Well, yeah.”

In all the time you knew Kim Taehyung you had never seen him smile so beautifully. Especially not in the months since you began dating. He leaned over the small café table and placed an enthusiastic kiss on your mouth.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

You could feel the heat surfacing on your cheeks, and the fact that that was happening at all was a problem.

“I can’t believe she’s been married for two years now,” you murmured, trying to change the conversation. Again.

“Who—” he noticed your gaze, “oh. Right? I still can’t believe you spilled cake icing on my suit. Do you know how hard her icing is to get out?”

Taehyung scoffed after he finished speaking, and if you didn’t know any better you would think he was holding in some resentment.

“Do you think she’ll like her gift?” Your fingers toyed with the edge of your dress, the soft material giving comfort to your anxiety.

Taehyung sighed. He let his hand fall from the steering wheel to seek yours, lifting it up to his lips to place a chaste kiss to it.

“Yes, Y/N. We spent the last seven months since Annie’s been engaged getting this present for her. She is going to love it.”

“I know but…” You turned your head to look at him from the passenger seat, words trailing off.

The last sign of his summer tan had faded when the leaves changed color and then began to fall to the ground. But in its place was the same satin skin that shone beautifully under the setting winter sun.

You watched as his eyelashes graced the soft skin under his eyes, and the way his brows furrowed when he just barely missed a green light. You watched as he took your breath away just by existing.

At the red light you two were stuck at, you pondered what the future could hold for yourself. Would you be in your forties, finally finding your true love like Annie? Or is Taehyung it? The one?

“I love going to weddings, Taehyung. It always makes me excited for my own future…” You paused and looked at him when he pulled into the parking lot and parked the car. “…with you.”

He beamed his boxy grin and leaned far over the middle console of the car to press his lips to your forehead.

“Be patient, baby. One day.”

You blinked, and stared upwards at the bright, fluorescent lights in the café to keep wetness from pooling at the corners of your eyes. You snorted in bitter humor.

“It’s not my fault you always drank too much and caused me to spill the icing on your suit.”

The fork he was using to push around pieces of his snack fell and clanked against the plate.

“Its not my fault you gave me reasons to get that drunk.”

Your eyes fell as his widened as if he didn’t realize what he had said. You stared at the item in your hands, that was held under the table, of course.

Biting your lip in anxious waiting, you looked up at Kim Taehyung to see that he was shaking his head.

“I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.”

There was nothing you could do but nod. That bitter, automatic response made you remember why you were here in the first place.

Taehyung’s POV

“It’s not my fault you gave me reasons to get that drunk.”

Taehyungcouldn’t believe he had said that to you. Not that he is surprised. He has been cold hearted and cruel to you for some time now.

He watched as your eyes remained downcast as if you were fumbling with something under the table.

Taehyung heard the almost ear-shattering slam of the door behind him and the angry echo of your keys being thrown against the granite counter of the kitchen.

He rolled his eyes, preparing himself for yet another round of bitching from you.

“How dare you, Kim Taehyung.”

Groaning, he drunkenly kicked off his dress shoes only for them to be kicked directly in his walking path. When he tripped over them a bit, he stumbled into the wall but you caught him.

Had he not been in a fighting mood as is, he would have thanked you. But currently, he wanted nothing to do with you.

“Get off of me, Y/N,” he slurred, shrugging you away.

“No, Taehyung. You don’t get to embarrass me at Annie’s wedding reception and then come home just to knock yourself out by busting your head open!”

You sighed. Taehyung hoped that you would leave him be, but that didn’t seem to be the case.

“Let’s just get you to bed, honey. We can worry about your suit later.”

Taehyung had momentarily forgotten about the galaxy patterned stain on his suit, the initial cause of their fight disregarded.

Again, he shoved you away. This time with a little more force.

“I said get off of me, I can take of myself you know!” He knew his voice was loud and that his face was angry. He turned and stumbled down the hallway losing a piece of clothing with each step. “I’m not a fucking child,” he grumbled before shutting the door to your shared bedroom.

When Taehyung woke up the next morning, he was mostly naked and under the clean sheets of your bed. He stretched sleepily as his head pounded from the amount of alcohol he consumed last night. You weren’t by his side, but he paid that no mind as his headache began to make him nauseous

Quickly, and painfully, he staggered into the bathroom to relieve the contents of his stomach.

On the sink counter next to the toilet was a bottle of advil waiting for him to take. Once he was sure he wouldn’t throw up again, Taehyung popped a couple of the pain relievers in his mouth.

Starting his day as he normally would, he went to the closet. It was a Saturday morning so there was nothing that he was obligated to do; this allowed him to pull on loungewear for the day.

When turning around in the little space the edge of a plastic bag brushed up against his arm. Curiously he pulled the item from its place in the closet, only to learn that it was his suit.

The suit that was… not… stained in pink, purple, and blue icing?

“Its been dry-cleaned,” he mused aloud.

It didn’t make sense that you would have been able to take it in and get it cleaned so early in the morning. It was his perfectly clean, perfectly tailored suit that finally had him venturing outside of the room you shared.

Only, he didn’t find you waiting in the living room for him. His stomach rumbled, signaling that it was time for some breakfast.

Taehyung figured that you had ran out for a bit this morning.

But the clock on the wall didn’t say that it was morning. No, he was apparently much closer to dinner than he was to breakfast.

“Fuck,” he groaned in disbelief of how long his drunken state forced him to sleep in.

He let his bare feet drag himself to the fridge without much of a thought; his only goal was to find leftovers. Instead of leftovers, Taehyung found a plate of food covered in Saran wrap. When he pulled out the food, he noticed there was still a slight layer of condensation on the plastic.

He smiled to himself a bit, “you always gotta baby me, don’t you Y/N?”

The moment he finished muttering to himself, it dawned on him why everything felt so off.

“I’m not a fucking child,” he had snapped at you the night before. Immediately Taehyung placed the food back in the fridge and quickly made his way to the bedroom to find his phone.

On the top of the dresser neatly laid his keys, wallet, watch, cellphone, and a note.

Taehyung, I have gone away for the weekend. Don’t bother me, plea—

He snapped out of the regretful memory when her heard you clear your throat to signal his attention. Shaking his head, he glanced at you.

You brought your hands together to rest on the table of the booth the two of you were sharing and Taehyung’s eyes became misty when he realized what you were holding.

“Taehyung, we didn’t come here to reminisce.”

Then why don’t you just get on with it, he thought to himself.

“I wanted to give you some of the more important things back to you in person. So, here is—”

Taehyung watched you stop in the middle of that sentence to rummage through your bag. The item in your hand had been discarded from your hands and into your plate. Reaching over, he plucked it from the leftover icing and began to wipe it off.

“These are yours, right?” You asked him rhetorically. You hadn’t even noticed that he wasn’t paying attention to you. “Taehyung you—”

Taehyung knew he was looking at you pitifully; his hands were preoccupied and his heart aching.

He heard the breath you took in when you realized what he was holding.

“I suppose you were going to get that back eventually,” you said, almost in a convincing manner.

Not that Taehyung really understood who you were trying to convince—himself or you.

“It’s not mine,” he disagreed, shaking his head and handing the item back to you. You froze up and pulled your hands away. “It’s still yours, Y/N.”

Taehyung watched as your nose turned up and your lip quivered.

Sighing, “it’s not mine, Taehyung, not anymore. You knew this was bound to happen eventually.”

Taehyung was already clenching his jaw, “was it though? I didn’t realize people made commitments with the expectations that they would fail.”

Your POV

“Taehyung, I think we’re lost.” You worryingly whispered as you travelled through the city. “Not that I understand how we’re lost, we’ve lived here our entire lives,” you grumbled.

“Y/N,” he shushed you. “We’re going to Annie’s, remember?”

Granted, you were blind folded and you had to trust him to lead you through the city you lived in. So you didn’t know if you were actually lost.

“Taehyung,” you whined, “I think I could get to Annie’s if I was actually blindfolded. We should have made it a while ago.”

He muttered under his breath.

“What was that? Babe, are you talking shit?”

But Taehyung just laughed, and it was so fucking beautiful. You let him lead you, because you would follow him anywhere.

“Don’t do this right now, Taehyung.” You almost wanted to beg him to let this go peacefully.

He seethed.

“Don’t do what? Don’t fight you trying to throw away years of our lives together?”

Your breath had caught in your throat like a sharp piece of barbwire had obstructed all ability to speak. Panic filled your eyes, and you almost surrendered to the hurt.

“Taehyung, that is not what I’m doing!”

Quickly you glanced around you, thankful that the two other people in the café were busy typing their hearts out on their computers. Annie was occupied with fixing a banner over the counter, too occupied to notice that her most loyal customers were at their breaking point.

“Okay, Y/N. We’re here.”

“Why am I blindfolded again?”

The air conditioner hit your face suddenly, and you shivered. It was almost too cold still to need to turn the air on, but spring was coming to a close, you supposed.

You also noticed a charming twinkle of a melody coming from above the door, signaling your arrival.

“This isn’t Annie’s, where are—"

The bright light of the place you had been dragged into momentarily blinded you. Reeling back at the sudden change from your eyes being uncovered, it took a bit for your eyes to adjust.

But when they did, the gasp that left your lips was a mere understatement as to the shock you received.

The once generic black and white checkered floor is now a breathtaking marbled galaxy. Absolutely perfect for the staple theme. The raggedy booths were now re-leathered, and most of the tables were still the same sleek black. Two corner booths fought for the focal point of the enchanting place.

On one side was a crescent moon shaped table facing outwards to the store, and on the other was a fat, many-pointed star shaped table.

And, in front of a much sturdier, much longer, front counter was your favorite cookie maker.

Tears threatened to well in your eyes because you were just so fucking happy that she finally got her dream café.

She embraced you with her own tearful smile. “Thank you for always believing in me, and my emporium.”

You pulled away and glanced around the place, still admiring how fantastical

“Oh Annie, this is so beautiful. I didn’t know that this was why you had been closed all week!”

Taehyung had left your side moments ago, and you were busy munching on the cookies left on the counter. They were made with the same magical recipe that made you fall in love with the Wonder Emporium so long ago.

However, they were very different. They were shaped into hearts, with swirling shades of pinks, reds, and white. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought they were valentines cookies with how romantic they were. And they were so gooey and warm. As if they were freshly made…

“You didn’t have the grand opening yet, right? Do you need us to help with that?”

Once the cookie was scarfed down, you wasted no time in asking Annie about all her plans.

She smiled, shaking her head. “No, and no. I’ve gotten everything taken care of.”

You were puzzled. “Annie, what’s going on then? I didn’t realize we had a special, behind the scenes privilege.”

Annie laughed so genuinely, her round cheeks illuminated with the sound of her laugh.

“No, honey. There’s another reason the two of you came here today.”

The sound of footsteps against the floor was heard behind you, and it was such a familiar pace that you knew the owner of it before you turned around.

“Taehyung, Annie said—”

You were frozen in your spot as he approached you dressed in his fitted suit. A rose boutonniere was fastened in place on the breast of his jacket, and you finally understood why he had you dress up the way you did.

Taehyung looked handsome, breathtaking, And so proud of himself.

“Y/N, will you marry me?”

Tears threatened to well in your eyes and it was no soon after you tried to fight them that one slipped out.

That memory in particular made you break. He had been so proud because he had planned it for so long. After you had obviously said yes, Annie wheeled out some fresh food and even better cookies.

“Taehyung, that’s not what I’m doing and you know it.” You used the sleeve of your sweater to wipe your face before staring sternly at him, feigning calm composure. “You know that we hit a dead end long ago.”

“Did we,” he pressed, “or did you just give up?”

“I—” but you couldn’t answer that question. You scoffed in anger, “don’t act like you ever actually cared.”

“Don’t you dare,” he seethed, hands closing into fists.

He could have bent the handle of the fork he was holding if he really wanted to. It was a low blow and you knew it. But it was easier than admitting the truth to yourself.

“I’m a lot of things, but to insult my character and accuse me of never caring is a fucking lie and you know it.”

Taehyung’s POV

“Y/N can you please wait up for me? I—Ugh! Y/N!”

Taehyung was trying desperately not to break out into a run after you. Afterall, he was still in his work clothes. And, after all, he did have to quickly bring a moderately important business meeting to a close.

He caught up to you once you two had entered his workplace’s parking garage.

“You can’t just disrupt me in my place of work and then not tell me why you look so fucking pissed off!”

You turned on your heel to face him, quick enough to almost cause Taehyung to slam right into you

“Place of work?” You had thrown up air quotes as you mockingly repeated the phrase back to him. “Why was that dumb bimbo alone in your office with you, huh?”

Taehyung rolled his eyes, and tried his best to keep himself as calm as possible. “Let’s just go home and talk about this after we’ve eaten dinner, okay?”

His outstretched hand was met with an angry shove and a bitter scoff. “I’m not going anywhere with you!”

Taehyung didn’t want to fight, but you regularly made that impossible.

“Why are you acting like a child?”

“Excuse me?” The words were flung from your mouth with a livid screech. “I’m not acting like a child! You’re the one who is neglecting our relationship to stay late at work every day to associate with—”

“That’s enough Y/N,” Taehyung asserted strongly before you could make another comment on his client. “That woman is a very loyal client and business partner for my company, how could you stoop so low to insult her character like that? You don’t even know her!”

Taehyung had no remorse for the probably purposeful look of shock you had on your face.

“Secondly, how can you justify accusing me of neglecting you when I am literally working for us? For our future!”

He noticed you were softening a bit at his calm dismantle of your behavior.

“Taehyung, you know I don’t care about that. We can have a small wedding; it doesn’t have to be so expensive that you need to work like this.”

Your comment made him give a small smile and shake his head in denial.

“I know you, Y/N. In five years, you’ll be bitter because we didn’t have a fairytale wedding. I just can’t please you.”

That memory wasn’t the first and it surely wasn’t the last of a long history of unnecessarily brutal fights you caused. If Taehyung wasn’t pampering you, you were accusing him. If you were upset afterwards, Taehyung was apologizing.

The amount of stupid, useless fights you caused almost made him question whether or not he wanted to let you give up.

Almost.

“There is nothing so intrinsically wrong with us that we can’t make this work,” he sighed in frustration.

You began to cry without warning, silent tears streamed down your cheeks without warning. Taehyung wanted to reach out, to hold you and kiss each one away. To say I’m sorry and take back how he hurt you. But, he wanted to keep his dignity and not crumble under the weight of your sorrow.

You needed to know that you were wrong too.

“Then w-why isn’t it working, Taehyung?”

“Because,” he grunted, “you’re fucking stubborn.”

This made you laugh amidst your crying. “I know,” you croaked out.

There was a tense pause and, to be honest, Taehyung was not sure where to go from here. The pitiful look had left your face, but it did not seem like any other change had been made in his favor.

Taehyung watched as you wiped your face one more time with your sleeve, a habit he’s always tried to get you to break. You were anxiously poking and prodding your way around your plate; but, your cake had grown stale and if there was any hot chocolate in your mug, it had grown cold.

So, he left you in the booth there without warning, without thinking, despite your teary eyes and the worried look on your face. And, he walked right up to Annie at the counter.

Annie was concerned, she had been concerned for weeks now. Of course, neither Taehyung nor you had the heart to answer her inquiries on why you two hadn’t stopped by in a while.

“Taehyung, sweetheart, you don’t know how good it is to see you two.” Her smile was empathetic lined with genuine happiness.

Annie truly was such a wonderful woman.

“I know, it’s just that things have been a little rough lately,” he kept it vague enough in the hopes that she wouldn’t realize that he was talking about the state of his relationship. “I need a favor from you, actually.”

A single brow quirked up and she smiled, “oh?”

“I need the best damn cookie you have ever made.”

Your POV

Left alone at the table as Taehyung conversed with Annie, there was not much for you to do with yourself except think. And think. And think. And think.

Your meeting with Taehyung had gone much differently than you thought it would. After two months of absolute silence after your request for a break, you made a decision and asked to meet at Annie’s.

You thought you had made a decision. This damned café and those heaven-sent treats have done nothing but assault your head with memories—good and bad.

It was getting cold again and it was just like déjà vu that you were sitting in a window booth looking out towards a gloomy sky. Except it wasn’t snowing.

Except you weren’t about to passively confess to Taehyung that you were in love with him. No, you were here to walk away from him.

You are here to walk away from him.

If you weren’t overreacting, he was making snide comments. If he wasn’t being condescending, you were being controlling. If you weren’t happy, he was. But if you were happy, he wasn’t.

Between the bickering, the jealousy, the distrust there was no reason to stay with him anymore. There was no reason why he should stay with you anymore. You really should have seen it coming.

Best friends for years, date for years, and then break up right before the wedding.

The ring you had given back to help was carefully placed in the middle of his clean tea saucer. It taunted you and reminded you of all your insecurities—all the insecurities and doubts you had brought up since the moment you fell in love with him.

It was the usual; doubts of his love for you, doubts of your place in his life, the overwhelming fear that eventually it would come to…

This.

An inconsolable breakup in your favorite place on earth; the place that started it all.

“Taehyung, I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“What?” He scoffed, “finishing the fights that you started?” He shot back.

You threw your hands up in the air, preparing to leave your shared bedroom.

“I did not start this!” You were shouting again.

But he followed you down the hallway anyway, “and I did? I suggested we go to couples counseling and you started wailing about how I was being condescending!”

Turning around, bright red in the face, you spat your words at him. “Going to counseling means theres something wrong with you. There’s nothing wrong with me, Kim Taehyung!”

He rolled his eyes in utter annoyance, “that’s a shitty viewpoint to have on needing counseling altogether, but this is couple’s counseling, Y/N. We would be going. TO. GE. THER.”

His words were punctuated and precise, loud and unrelenting. Each emphasis continued to be a hit to your ego.

“Even worse!” You grabbed your shoes from the front door and hurriedly put them on. “You’re supposed to go to counseling when you’ve been married for years! Not right before you get married!”

You were hurriedly grabbing your keys, your wallet. Brushing past him, you tore down the hallway back to your room to grab a change of clothes for the evening. Or the weekend. You weren’t sure.

All you knew was that you wanted to get as far away from Taehyung as you could.

He was standing in front of the door, arms folded but eyes brimming with wetness.

“Y/N, don’t do this to me. To us. Just do the counseling with me before you make a definite answer.”

You reached for the door and he wouldn’t budge, “out of my way. What good could it do to a failed relationship?”

He moved from the door but kept one arm in front of you, pleading for you not to leave.

“Baby, please. Don’t give up on us.”

But you shook your head and kept your eyes on your feet, ready to be free from him.

“I’ll give you a better answer when I come back.”

But you told him you need a break, a long one. The wedding was postponed for “financial” reasons, and the two of you tried your best to avoid each other.

It was difficult, but you picked up a rhythm of sticky notes as a form of communication. When he wasn’t home, you were. When you weren’t home, he was.

If the two of you unfortunately had to be home at the same time, Taehyung converted his office room into a bedroom as well. Air mattress and all.

It was two months before you left him a sticky note saying to meet him at Annie’s.

You should have known better than to come to a place that would obviously cloud your judgement.

Kim Taehyung came back with a plate with a single cookie. It was warm, and the icing look deliciously gooey. It was shaped like a moon and you knew it was yours.

“Thank you,” you whispered as you reached for the treat once Taehyung set the plate down.

You should not have accepted the cookie.

When you bit into it, every possible memory surrounding the Emporium struck your heart. From the moment you stepped into Annie’s original location, to his proposal, and to every perfect (and imperfect) date in between.

You were reminded of all the love, sorrow, joy, pain, and accomplishments over the course of your relationship with Kim Taehyung.

The onslaught on nostalgia hit you like a train, and you were crying as you chewed the third bite of the cookie. You quickly swallowed and buried your head in your hands. Obviously, you didn’t care what the other patrons, or Annie, thought because you needed to make a painful decision.

Both you and Taehyung deserved an answer.

The table shook as he got up from his side of the booth and slid into yours. His arms were around you, engulfing you in the tender love he always made an effort to give.

“Please don’t cry, Y/N,” he hushed. “Please, will you just do the counseling with me?”

The mention of the counseling had your sobs eventually drawing to a close, and you pulled away from his now soaking chest.

“Taehyung, there’s nothing we could do to fix this. I’m sorry.”

[sirkkasnow]

16 Hang Onto A Good Thing With Both Hands

Ao3 link

7/29/13-7/30/13 Monday-Tuesday

Stan came to by slow degrees, warmer than usual, and peeled up an eyelid to survey the usual morning blur. His view was interrupted by what he decided was an eyebrow.

He kissed that lightly, then the orbit of the slumbering eye beneath it, then the bridge of the nose.

Clary was just beginning to stir as he drew her into his arms and left a stubbly trail of smooches along her cheekbone and down to the corner of her mouth. Her lashes fluttered and it took a moment for her to focus.

Eventually she smiled, soft and contented, and pulled herself in to rub her nose against his. “Hello, handsome.”

“Good mornin’, gorgeous.” She straight-up grinned at that. They tangled lazy limbs together under the blankets and traded stray kisses through the drowsy stupor of waking.

After a while his palm drifted to her hip, fingers fanning out to confirm that yes, she really did have a butt as nice as those sculpted legs. Clary’s eyes opened slowly; she studied him in knowing amusement as he tinted pink.

“Is that your hand on my ass?”

“Maybe? It’s gotta go somewhere, right?”

“Mmhm.” She caught hold of his shoulder, pushed as she rose to pin him flat to the mattress, kissed him breathless and then wriggled out of his grasp like a determined eel while he was too discombobulated to put up a fight.

“Ah, c’mon, please, five more minutes,” Stan protested. Clary plunked his glasses onto his chest and he caught them on reflex.

“Sorry, sailor, but you promised you’d behave.”

“Five more minutes and y’won’t want me to.” Stan managed to hook the glasses into place and leered up as she swung her legs over and pivoted, perched neatly on the edge of his bed.

“That’s almost certainly true, which is why I’m going to head downstairs and get breakfast started.”

“Damn shame.”

“Just leaving you some incentive to come ashore sooner than later.” She corralled the bedhead chaos of her hair into its elastic, then leaned over to stroke the prickly line of his jaw. He turned into the contact, eyes half closed. “Besides, I guarantee that Mabel got the others on the trail early.”

“They’re almost six hours out - ” He paused, then dragged a hand down his face with a groan. “No, y’got a point. They’ll make it before lunch. She’s relentless. What time is it?”

“Quarter to eight. Eggs, potatoes, onions okay?”

“C’mon, like one flapjack?”

Clary’s smile flashed wide and she tapped him under the chin. “Pancakes on the side, you got it. See you in a few.” She strutted barefoot out the door with the bicentennial brandy dangling from one hand, filching his fancy Northwest Manor towel on the way past.

He wondered if she was always going to be this obnoxiously chipper in the morning. Having a chance to find out didn’t really sound so bad, though.

Stan swung by the office before he wandered back around to the kitchen. Clary manned a couple of skillets at the stovetop with professional ease. He dropped off a heavy folder on the table and slid in behind to loop an arm around her waist. “You’re gonna burn the onions.”

“If you keep nibbling on me like that, I just might burn the onions.” She didn’t, even with Stan unwilling to let go through the whole process, shifting to follow when she reached for the salt or the spatula. They devoured every crumb with little to say, slouched comfortably in their chairs. Her feet rested against his slippers under the table.

“Wanna give me a hand puttin’ that bottle back?”

“Find me a telephone book or something and I’ll do it.” Clary had a much easier time of it on the countertop. They came up with a couple massive cans of crushed tomatoes for her to balance on, Stan’s steadying hands at her ankles as she followed his instructions to get the hidden cabinet open and shove the brandy as far back as she could manage.

“All right, kid. One last job for the Shack’s honorary accountant before I cut y’loose for the season.” She picked her way back down the stepstool with a hand on his shoulder for balance, cocking a curious brow, and he nodded over to the table. “Got the receipts for ya.”

“Oh-ho. I’ve been wondering how we did.” Stan slid the folder over. Clary fished out her phone, pulled up some calculator thing, and her fingers started to fly.

She counted money as efficiently as any casino bunny, fwip fwip fwip fwip, slapping down the bills in mounting piles and sliding each into place below scrawled scraps designating Greasy’s, picnic supplies, servers, food. Stan sipped his coffee and watched in happy fascination. Every now and then she’d swipe a thumb along the edge of her tongue for traction on the paper.

“What’re you looking at,” Clary murmured after a few minutes.

“Two of the most beautiful things I’ve laid eyes on in years.”

Her lips twitched up at a corner. “And what are those?”

“A huge pile of honest money, and you.” He was coming to love pulling a blush out of her. “Where’d a paper-pusher learn how to count like that?”

“Wasn’t always a lawyer, darling.”

By the time she was done the stack of unassigned cash had grown a couple inches high. She flipped her phone around so he could whistle at the number, then scooped up the whole heap and riffled the bills with a sharp grin. “I’ll give you this much, you weren’t kidding about the summer money burning holes in everyone’s pockets.”

“Wouldn’t’ve pulled it off without our star attraction.” Stan raised his coffee mug in salute. ‘That’s all you, princess. Enjoy the fruits of your labor an’ all that.”

Her brow creased. “Really? Did Soos get anything off the top? I know we covered expenses.”

“Nah, he insisted. Gonna have to work on that.”

Clary squared the stack of profits, counted off three slim groups of a hundred bucks each, then placed the rest in the middle of the table. “Could you split that? Half for Soos, half for the kids.” She frowned for a moment. “Half for the kids’ college accounts, anyway, or a car fund or something. That might be a bit much for summer allowance.”

“You sure?”

“I didn’t do it for the money, Stan.” Her bare toes skimmed lightly up his shin under the table and he couldn’t help but twitch. “Besides, I’m definitely going home with the grand prize.”

“Fine. Fine, I’ll give it all to these ingrates you’re not even gonna see again for like a year, if you’re even willin’ t’come back to Gravity Falls, if I’m even back here anytime soon - ” The bluster did a lousy job of covering his blush but watching her grin as he scooped up the cash and stuffed it back in its envelope was well worth it.

“I might be. The place is growing on me.”

“Yeah, like a fungus,” he muttered, and she chuckled under her breath. “What’s that for?”

“These?” Clary picked up the three skinny stacks. “Hosts’ pay.” She slapped one down in front of Stan, tucked the second into her pocket and waved the third in front of his eyes. “And you’re taking me to dinner next time.”

“I thought you were pickin’ up the tab!”

“I’ll get the drinks, but dinner’s on you.” She winked and plopped the last few bills down. “All right, we’d better get decent before Mabel comes tearing in here hoping to catch us in flagrante.”

They cut it close, splitting up to get dressed and sharing the bathroom mirror for final touches. Her kerchief for the day was a thrift-store find, a riot of abstract hearts in shades of pink. By eleven they reconvened at the kitchen.

Stan settled down for a second cup of coffee. Clary glanced up from the ingredients for one last sour cream coffee cake as they heard the side door slam open and footsteps pelting up the stairs. “AHA!” came down along with the sound of another door banging against the wall, followed by “Darn it!”

Ford stuck his head through the doorway as the racket clattered back downstairs and turned down the hallway leading to Clary’s storage room. “Good morning, you two.” He and Clary exchanged a measured look. “Everything all right, Stanley?”

“Oh, we’re great, talked it all out, had a real nice evenin’.”

“AHA!” Bang. “Darn it!”

“Excellent! Fantastic, even! Precisely what I was hoping to hear!” Ford’s cautious expression cracked wide open and he grinned as he clasped Clary’s shoulder. “Welcome to the Pines circle, my dear, I’m afraid things may get rather odd from here on out but it’s a delight to have you aboard. Dipper, my boy! May I borrow your phone?”

Dipper shuffled through the doorway, holding up his phone for Ford to swipe on the way past. He dropped into the seat opposite Stan and rested his head on the table. “Morning, everyone.”

Clary pulled a warm plate of leftover pancakes out of the oven and set it in front of him. “Good morning, Dipper.”

“AHA!” Mabel skidded into the kitchen, blinked at Stan and Clary, then folded her arms with a deepening pout. “Oh, darn it, are you guys a thing yet or what?!”

That was about it for peace and quiet.

Stan slunk out of the kitchen as soon as he could get away with it, abandoning Clary to Mabel’s insistent interrogation. They’d need dinner eventually, and like hell he was going to let Clary cook again on her last night in the place, so he kept himself busy scraping ash and charred grease out of the neglected charcoal grill. As a result he had a perfect vantage point to watch Soos’ second batch of Monday tourists out on the grounds.

He also had a perfect view of a much newer but still decaled Tate-and-Backle pickup truck rolling in. McGucket scrambled down from the passenger side to meet up with Ford and a bemused Clary at her station wagon. They popped open the hood and both front doors, and McGucket started explaining the upgrades they’d made at a speed that would’ve been confusing even in easy earshot.

Stan tuned much of it out, watching warily to make sure nothing blew up, until he was distracted by a trickle of further arrivals. Grenda and Candy turned up on bicycles. Pacifica hopped out of a sleek black car, trailed by the driver lugging a heavy tote bag. They took over a corner of the yard to set up what proved to be a full-on badminton set. Mabel barreled out of the house a few minutes later with the battered box containing the lawn darts.

“Looks like we’re gonna have another picnic!” Soos ambled over with a bucket full of grill tools. “I’ll finish this up, Mr. Pines, there’re plenty of hot dogs in the deep freeze.”

Stan was streaked with soot to the elbows by now. “Yeah, fine by me, about time someone else took care of cookin’.” He glanced over to the Fairlane. Clary leaned against a fender with arms folded, engaged in intense conversation with both Ford and McGucket. With no idea what that was about, he headed in to scrub up.

By the time he wandered back out Wendy had arrived and was casually swatting a birdie over the badminton net. Pacifica and Dipper were lined up on the far side, both dashing desperately to keep up with smacking it back.

Clary sat on the battered old couch, legs stretched out, ankles crossed. Stan dropped into place alongside her and she tipped into his space a bit as the springs creaked under his weight. They traded a fleeting glance; Stan extended his arm along the top cushions and she settled easily into its curve.

“So, you and Stan, huh?” Wendy batted the birdie over the net without even a glance, looking Clary over with open interest.

“Yep.” Clary laid her hand over Stan’s at her shoulder.

“You know he’s a lousy boss and a total skinflint, right?”

“You’re not even workin’ for me this summer, Wendy!”

Wendy grinned back. “So, you kissed him yet? Tambry’s video was pretty blurry.”

“Oh, I’ve kissed him.”

“Prove it!” Mabel called. Clary turned, smooth as you please, and pecked Stan sweetly on the cheek. He returned the favor as a collective groan went up. “Oh, come on, that doesn’t count!”

“That’s all you get, ya thirsty little gremlins! You want a sideshow, go buy a ticket!”

They endured a few more catcalls and hoots from the peanut gallery, Clary shaking with low laughter, until she finally patted his hand and rose. “That’s it. I’ve got to go even this out a bit. Hey, Pacifica!” She hopped down from the porch and strode purposefully over to the net. “You game to pair up with me against Team Backwoods here?”

“Oh, it’s on, lady. I mean, you’re not as decrepit as Stan and Stan Two, but Team Backwoods rules. C’mon, Dipper.” Wendy tossed a spare racquet over and the four of them went at it with more energy than Stan could really bear to watch.

He watched anyway, slouched and more than content to let everyone else do the work for a while. Soos had the grill going by the time the sun had tracked far enough west to dip below the tips of the pine trees. Susan showed up with the karaoke machine, a winning smile and a cherry-pie bribe that got her a plate and a hot dog in short order. Soos’ Abuelita held court in a tufted armchair her grandson hauled out from the office. A scatter of mismatched lawn chairs popped up to support the mismatched guests as they drifted in.

Clary wandered back over to the porch with a couple of pop bottles dangling from one hand. “You know those lawn darts are totally illegal.”

Dipper yelped in terror as Grenda’s dart overshot the target and thudded into the ground an inch from his foot. “Of course I know! That’s why I tracked down a couple extra sets. Wanna grab a bite?”

“This doesn’t count as dinner, Stan.”

“Why not? You’ve got the drinks right there!”

“Not quite yet.” The bottles clinked as she set them down at the corner of the sofa and tipped her chin over to Ford. “These are the last two. Cooler’s empty.”

“Oh,” he said, then “oh.” The corners of her eyes crinkled with amusement.

It was so easy it was damned near embarrassing. Stan took one side of the cooler’s handle, Clary the other. They carried it sloshing between them until, with a perfectly coordinated swing, they dumped the icy meltwater right over Ford’s head.

Ford let out a steamwhistle shriek and bounced to his feet, sputtering in indignation. Clary set hands to her hips and stood her ground; Stan watched his brother deflate a little.

“Well,” said Ford. “I suppose you’ve got a point.” He shook water off his glasses, shoved back his drenched forelock and shifted attention to Stan.

“Oooohhh no no no no.” Stan held up both hands, rocking back on his heels. “You can dunk me once we’re back on the boat if y’want, but this’s payback fair and square, Sixer. You’ll have plenty of chances.”

“You’re right, of course.” Ford offered a hand to Clary. “One last dance, then? Even if it’s a bit damp?”

“Oh, by all means. Come on, I know that karaoke machine is around here somewhere.”

“Ford, you do not get to steal her, she’s gotta go in like twelve hours!”

Ford stole her anyway, that jerk. Someone got the music going and scattered laughter rose on the warm, still air as evening finally claimed the Shack. Hell with it, he thought, and slipped inside to rummage up what was left of the fireworks plus Clary’s scant handful of bottle rockets. Stan set himself up on the roof and fired off a single starburst to catch everyone’s attention.

“Hey!” That was Clary far below, hands cupped to direct her indignant shout. “Those’re mine!”

“Better get up here then!” he yelled back. Wendy pointed her at the gift shop and soon he could hear the vague scuffle of someone scrambling up the narrow ladder.

“Oh, god,” Clary muttered as she emerged a little ways up the roof. “This is steep.”

“Take it slow, you’ll be fine. C’mere.” Stan reached up and caught her hand. She warily picked her way down and stayed well away from the edge. “What, heights a problem?”

“Who likes heights?”

“Might as well get used to it, sweetheart, things’re gonna get a lot weirder than high places around us.”

Clary settled down after a minute or two as he lined things up, finally crouching near the edge as he handed off his spare matches. “Literal bottles for our bottle rockets?”

“Consider it creative recycling. Go get ‘em, kid.”

Fuses crackled and threw sparks as Stan set ‘em up and Clary knocked ‘em down, setting fire to everything he put in front of her, no rhyme or reason to it, a ragged fusillade of noise and light. They got ooohs and aaahs of approval from their audience anyway. She let the matches burn down to her fingertips and waved each out with a sharp flick of the wrist just in time to strike the next.

Explosions lit up her features in washes of color. The last rockets went up and she glanced his way, lifting the match to blow it out with a single puff of breath and a cocked brow.

Stan yielded to impulse and slung an arm around her waist, tugging her away from the edge - he landed butt-first, Clary half across his lap - and kissed her quick and hard, catching the edge of her front teeth in his lower lip for his trouble. The slow drag of her tongue soothed away that little hurt easy enough.

The asphalt shingles still held traces of the afternoon’s heat and Stan was more than content to serve as Clary’s pillow. “You could come upstairs tonight. If you want. Same rules.”

“Tempting.” She raised her head from his chest just enough to catch his eye, smile slanted and rueful. “Think I’ve got to decline, though, it’ll be hard enough to get out of here in the morning.”

“You could stay a little longer.”

“I’d love to. But I really can’t.”

Stan pulled a breath and let it go. “I get that. You gonna be okay? It’s a long-ass drive back to Maryland.”

“My nephew scored a cheap ticket to Vancouver and he’s going to drive the rest of the way back with me. I’ll head up to Seattle, do the necessary, then take a couple of days to spoil myself at a spa before I pick him up. We’ll be fine.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it covered. You keep me posted, right?”

Her grin was a sharp flash in the gathering dark. “You are gonna get so sick of your phone chirping at you.”

They rested there for a while, ignoring increasingly exasperated calls from the lawn down below. At length another scuffle scrambled up the ladder. Mabel thudded down on the roof, snapping a picture with her phone before Clary could do more than half sit up. “Oh, come on, you aren’t even smooching! Are you going to get downstairs for pie or what?”

Stan made it down the ladder first and managed to snag the last two slivers of pie. Soos passed out ice pops from the gift shop freezer over fruitless protests - the chicken picnic money would more than cover a bunch of popsicles, but it was the principle of the thing.

As the sky grew fully dark folks started to disperse. Clary handed out hugs and kisses and handshakes and exchanged a cheery wave with the departing McGucket that had to portend disaster somewhere down the line.

At the end it was down to Ford and Clary and Stan draped wearily across a trio of lawn chairs. Conversation had dwindled down to basically nothing. Clary’s fingers stayed hooked loosely into Stan’s.

He wasn’t sure if it was his effort or hers that kept their clasped hands swinging faintly between them.

“You all packed?”

“Nothing left but the overnight bag.”

“Gas?”

“Three-quarters of a tank.”

“Breakfast?”

“Cold cereal won’t kill me.” Clary rolled her head to curve him a tired smile and his fingers tightened down in hers. “I should get to bed. Need to be up bright and early.”

“Yup, suppose you should.” She didn’t budge for a good few minutes and he didn’t push. The lawn chair creaked when she finally rose. Clary’s kiss grazed his temple and lingered, and he leaned into it for as long as he could. Her palm pressed Ford’s shoulder as she crossed between them. Stan watched her head into the Shack, slipping easily into the shadows just within the door.

“What’s your take on her?” he asked.

“I like her better than that siren you spent most of February flirting with.”

Stan cackled. “Ah, he was cute. Best night’s sleep I’d had in ages.”

“He was going to eat you, you know.”

“You took care of it like a badass, and he turned out to be all kinds of helpful with that so-called Atlantis cipher you were tearin’ your hair out over. We came out ahead like we usually do. So.” He waggled brows at his brother. “When’re we hittin’ up the European coast?”

“I suppose I can move Finland and Lake Saimaa up the priority list,” Ford replied.

They both turned in soon after that, a bit before midnight for once. Stan sprawled across the center of his nice full-size orthopedic bed, taking up as much space as he wanted, and settled in to sleep.

He found himself staring up at the ceiling he couldn’t see. The house was quiet, all of the faint creaks of the joint familiar to his long-accustomed ear. Everyone was in their place - Ford in his basement fortress, the kids in the room they were going to outgrow for real by next summer, her down in the storage room that would go back to dust and old merch once she was gone.

Some wistful corner of his brain kept hoping she’d change her mind and come up to join him, but exhaustion dragged him under before she did.

Stan woke before his alarm went off, pulled himself together grudgingly and stumped downstairs into a minor Mabel whirlwind. Clary sat on the bottom step, posing for photos with Waddles and an expression of cheerful resignation.

“Great! Grunkle Stan, bend into the frame - yeah, right there - no, don’t just walk on by!” He went right past Mabel and her protests, Clary’s laughter chasing after him, and ended up in the kitchen. There was cold cereal, sure, but the last coffeecake as well, and he hacked out a chunk of that to stash at the back of the freezer for later.

He managed to get most of a cup of coffee down before Mabel hauled him outside into morning sunshine, shoving a small, squashy wrapped-and-beribboned package into his hand. “That’s for her, from you, got it? Okay! Hey Clary!”

Clary was halfway across the yard, overnight bag slung over one shoulder, but making little progress with Waddles trying to trip her up all the way. “Mabel, honeybee, could you please convince Waddles that I’m not trying to sneak off without saying goodbye?” Stan spotted Ford’s legs hanging out the passenger-side door of the Fairlane - probably screwing around with that black box he and McGucket had installed.

“Oh, I know you’re not sneaking off because we’re gonna bribe you not to. Presents!” Mabel sang. On cue, Dipper staggered out of the side door, blinded by the stack of brightly wrapped boxes he carried. Mabel plucked the stuffed blue whale out from under his arm and ran ahead to the station wagon. “But the only one you get to see is this one.”

Waddles disentangled himself and trotted obligingly after Mabel as Clary protested. “Mabel! That was a loan.”

“Lady Bluemington has taken a liking to you. Who am I to argue with the power of plush? Besides, you’re gonna be landlocked for months and I want you to be thinking of the glories of the open ocean.” Mabel’s hands described a familiar marquee arc in the air and to Stan’s amusement Clary went pink.

“I’m a pretty poor sailor, Mabel.”

“Now you’ve got plenty of incentive to learn! Right? Right!”

Ford took the overnight bag off Clary’s hands and tucked it into the back seat, along with the heap of presents. “No peeking,” said Dipper firmly, “and no opening those until you’re on the road! - or at least at the next rest stop, no more accidents!”

“No more accidents. I solemnly swear I’m going to get there in one piece.” Clary flashed the three-fingered Scout salute, then leaned in to peck Ford chastely on the cheek. “Thank you for all the repairs.”

“Ah, well, let’s not do that again. Thank you for all the lovely meals and the fine company. I look forward to continuing our discussion!” Stan eyed his brother warily and got an innocent smile in return.

“I guess that’s about it.” Clary looked over to the house and back to the car, tugging at her kerchief with a fingertip - it was the tiny nautical flags today - then bent and pulled Mabel in for a full-on embrace. Dipper got dragged along by his sister but didn’t seem too grossed out by the equivalent of auntie kisses. “I can’t thank you guys enough,” she said, muffled between the kids. “I really thought this trip was going to be awful but you’ve made it great. I’ll miss all of you.”

The strain in her voice was easy to catch and Stan shouldered his way in as Clary straightened. “All right, get lost, all a’you, I gotta show her a couple last things with the engine. G’wan! Get!” He waved shooing hands at the lot of them, and Ford nudged the gremlins back towards the house.

“Bye Clary!”

“Be careful out there on the road!” Clary flashed an approving thumb up for Dipper and watched the three of them disappear into the Shack, then leaned wearily against the Fairlane’s fender. Stan passed over his handkerchief and she sniffed into it for a moment.

“Ah, c’mon, it’s not that bad, it’s not like I haven’t figured out how t’spam you with text messages.”

Clary managed a chuckle and blinked at him over the hanky with glittering eyes. “She would’ve loved you guys.”

“‘Course she would’ve. We’re lovable.” Stan shifted his weight, shoved hands into his jacket pockets and ended up smashing Mabel’s squashy package in the process. “Uh - look, I got you a little somethin’ for the road - “

“Did you now.”

“Hey, you know there’s no point arguin’ with Mabel - “ Stan pressed the package into her offered hand; she tore off the crumpled paper to reveal a set of fuzzy dice crocheted in red with gold pips. Clary threw her head back and laughed. “See, now, if I could do a damn thing with yarn that is absolutely what I would’ve made you.”

“I love them. They’re perfect. I’ve got something for you, too.”

Clary dipped into her pocket and pressed an envelope into his palm. He sifted carefully through the glossy pictures inside, glitter stickers slapped into the corners. Stan and Clary bickering over eggs in the kitchen. Lit up by the glow of fireworks. In fishing hats, his expression more gobsmacked than he remembered it being. Leaning over the Fairlane’s engine. Spinning out across the museum floor in front of a dazzled crowd.

Stan held up the shot of the two of them dancing at Greasy’s under twinkling lights. “Mabel wasn’t even there for this one!”

“Probably lifted it from someone else’s video. She told me to make absolutely sure you got these.” The obvious question was sketched out in the worried lines around her eyes, but when he hesitated she patted his arm in understanding.

“There’s a lot you don’t know,” he admitted.

“That goes both ways. We’ll deal with it as it comes.”

“So, ah - “ Stan tucked the fresh memories into his jacket for later perusal and took a step to close the distance. “I mean I know I’m gonna see you again, so this isn’t exactly goodbye - “

“You’ve got obligations and so do I.” Clary swayed away, hands linked behind her.

“Oh I am gonna get to you, sweetpea. Though if I end up yodelin’ or stuffed into lederhosen or somethin’ there might be hell to pay.“

“A gift of a baby goat is traditional. Or so my niece claims.” Lowered lashes veiled her eyes as she sidestepped him with the practiced grace of a matador, slipping out of easy smooching range until his patience began to fray.

Stan played along for the moment, stalking intently after her. “You’re not gonna leave me here without a kiss for the road, right?”

“No way. But I’m waiting for our cue.” He managed to cut a quick glance over to the Shack without looking too much like he was doing it, and spotted the curtain pulled back just a bit by a little hand.

“I did not take you to be quite this mean, Miz Merrick.”

“It’s our job as responsible adults to pretend that delayed gratification is a good thing, darling.”

“Who’re you callin’ responsible?”

“Would you two just kiss already!?!”

Mabel’s rising yell of frustration went off like an air-raid siren. Stan grinned wide and rocked back on his heels. Clary cracked up, knees half buckling as she reached out. His hands caught her waist; he swept her half off her feet and kissed her laughing mouth until she dwindled to giggles and then to happy humming against his lips.

Stan held her tight for longer than he needed to, trailing firm kisses along her jawline, her arms twining up to loop around his neck as she sighed in pleasure and regret. “We really should’ve figured this out a week ago.”

“I have ways t’make up for lost time.”

He felt her shiver as she drew careful breath and leaned in to whisper. “I’m counting on it.”

They stayed entwined like that, her hair sun-warm against his cheek, until Dipper called out. “Can I look yet?”

Gently, grudgingly, Clary disentangled herself and drew away. His fingers clung to hers until she was out of reach. “I’ll text you when I stop for the night. See you around, sailor.”

“Take care of yourself, sweetheart.”

Clary lifted an arm, focus shifting as she waved enthusiastically at the rest of the crew on the porch. Her last look at him was wistful and soft but determined, and she winked a tiny wink as she pivoted away and marched up to the Fairlane, dropping into the driver’s seat and dragging the seatbelt across. A moment’s work set the fuzzy dice dangling from the rear-view mirror. The old wagon cranked up like a dream, the big V8 engine so quiet it did little more than purr as she pulled out down the drive.

Stan stood and watched her go until the last bit of blue had disappeared between the trees and the dust had settled. Mabel and Dipper came out to flank him.

“Soooo I guess we’re going to be seeing her again?” Dipper said hopefully.

“Yup.”

“Aaaaaand it was worth taking a chance on telling her what you really feel?” Mabel nudged him in the ribs with an elbow.

“Maybe more show than tell, pumpkin.” Stan’s face ached with a smile that wouldn’t fade. He turned back towards the Shack, clapping hands together. “All right, you two. Day’s young and there’s plenty to do. Who wants to help me haul the S back up?”

There was already a Clary-shaped hole in his immediate plans.

Stan had no idea how this long-distance thing would work, but he was eager to find out.

Tumblr masterpost

Mabel shouts in pure frustration. “Would you two just kiss already!” Clary’s grinning at you like the sun just came out after two years of winter.

Kiss her.

Kiss her.

Kiss her.

[fourmisfitz]

Kinda maybe prompt reader passing out and roger being a full on biology geek that he is not letting anyone near them and gets snappy because "I know what I am doing go away "

“Go away, I know what I’m doing”

Gah I’m sorry this took me a hot sec to crank out! I kept restarting because I wasn’t happy with it, but I hope you enjoy the final product as much as I do! xx

(fluff & tension, not entirely historically accurate… hehe, enjoy my lovelies)

“Okay let’s go over…” You flipped over the review sheet in your hand, “Um- fractures, sure.” You impatiently shook your head, shrugging and dropping the paper in front of you.

Sat at a long table in the library on campus, you and your best friend, Nick, were going over concepts in an effort to cram for your kinesiology final. The pair of you were helping each other brush up on unfamiliar topics, but there were some you’ve avoided covering until the last while.

“Okay,” Nick agreed, reaching for his anatomy textbook.

Your leg was incessantly bobbing underneath the table until you noticed the water in your bottle beating with it.

“That’s on page-” He trailed off, pinching the pages as they flipped.

“-Eighty-seven.”

Your propped palm rubbed over one side of your exhausted face.

“Right.” He settled on a page with different fractures exhibited, both in cartoons and in real-life measure.

“After this maybe you could help me with the female anatomy.” He quipped.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes as he let out a chuckle.

Turning your head to your left, your mouth now hid behind your palm as your squished nose huffed over the brim. You glared out the large window across the room, watching the raindrops race down the glass. A pale, blonde student sat on the floor against the pane, his eyebrows furrowed as he focused in on a Biology textbook.

“Think you’re gonna need your book for this one, kiddo.”

Your eyes alone shot back to your right peripherals, analyzing the page for less than a second.

“ ‘m good.” You declared.

You sat up and leaned back into the chair, pushing against the edge of the tabletop with your hands.

“Just,” You outstretched an impatient palm at him, “Read it, and I’ll follow along.”

You returned your head to the gentleman, admiring the way his long hair swept aimlessly around his face, his eyes racing across the page.

“Okay, we’ll start with simple fractur-”

“-Hairline fracture. Next one.” You answered, now anxiously nibbling on a pen cap.

“…Right, but, the damage is only done to the bone. Like, here, for example,” Nick swiveled the book so you could see a depiction, but you just dipped your head back to ogle the dots on the ceiling tiles.

He let out an audible breath through his nose.

“You’re gonna need to be able to identify it on the exam, kid. Just look real quick so you know.”

“Just move on, Nick, I’ve got it.” You urged, not seeing him shake his head at you.

“Alright, alright, err- compact fracture.”

You continued to stare upward, the obnoxiously bright lights staring right back down at you as you rubbed your knees, trying to apply pressure and friction to offset the tingling sensation pecking at them.

You lifted your heavy head to face Nick, taking a deep breath. The last bit of your name left his lips as your ears adjusted to the pulsing beat flowing through.

“You alright?” His head bowed as he flipped the page but watched you cautiously.

“Y-Yeah, um, go on. Just continue, please.” You breathed.

Why was it getting harder to.. do anything?

“How is it that you can tell me all there is to know about muscle contraction but you don’t even know what basic fractures look like?”

You shrugged, dismissing him.

“Just. Go. On.” You huffed, resting your elbow on the back of your chair, leaning your head back into your palm.

He took a deep breath, ignoring it.

Trailing your eyes to your left peripherals again, you felt someone had been watching you. There he was, clad in denim that matched his eyes, making the moody weather seem calming. His statuesque allure was just sprawled out messily as his legs outstretched like a limp doll, but he looked so purposeful at the same time.

You bit your lip and glanced back to the upside down page Nick’s fingertips were skimming.

You felt your pulse in your ears - thrashing blood against your brain, it felt like.

“In a compact fracture, the bone will have broken through the skin-” his voice carried on, while the sound of your heartbeat flooded your head.

He prompted you with a blur of your name and you nodded, though it may have been delayed; you couldn’t really tell.

His voice pulled you out of it again.

“Comminuted fractures can be identified by-?”

Your eyes panned over the images again, page to page; no longer mere cartoons.

“Bones.” You breathed.

“I’m sorry?”

“Bone.” You muttered again.

Nick began to laugh admirably as your eyes stuck to the intolerable image.

“Yeah, I mean, you’re on the right track - it would be plural, I guess, but what’s special about it? C’mon, you know this.”

He noticed you were looking at the photos now.

“Here, take a look,”

Before you could protest, your eyes were glued to a photo of a patella, crushed. Fragments everywhere. You slid your palms off the table to wipe them on your pants, noticing you left sweat streaks on the tabletop. You gripped your kneecap to keep it in place; ‘though you knew it wasn’t going anywhere, you felt some threat seep into your head. All of this happened in a matter of seconds.

He spun his laptop around to show you an animated reenactment of a patellar fracture.

He curled his head around to observe with you while he pointed a finger- or two? Three? At different aspects.

“So, you see how it’s got this insane weight pressing down on it?”

You gulped, not being able to pry your eyes from it. Your lids began to flutter and twitch slightly.

“Bones everywhere but where they’re supposed to be.” You slurred, finally finishing the thought, laboured breaths coming and going.

“And then- SMASH!” He narrated as the fragile kneecap snapped, slamming an alarming fist on the table, and that did it. It pulled eyes from everyone, allowing the fellow students to witness what happened next.

Your head practically weighed a tonne as it guided you off the side of your chair, smacking the adjacent seat on your way down.

Nick was the last one to notice you were no longer seated across from him, having just felt the table rock slightly, but the audible smack had drawn his attention.

The last thing you heard was a faint echo of your name.

He exclaimed and shoved himself out of his seat to round the table to you, but someone else had already bolted over.

“Everyone back up and give her some space.”

Long blonde hair splayed across your cheek as he listened for breathing sounds. He lifted two fingers below your nostrils to feel for any exhuming air.

He swatted a dismissive arm behind him at a student who had rushed over about calling someone.

“No,” He felt a puff of air leave your nose, but it was small. “She’s gonna be alright; I’ve got this.”

“And who are you, may I ask?”

The blonde quirked his alert eyes up at Nick as his hands worked hurriedly, pulling your tucked shirt up from your waistband.

Nick knelt down on the other side of you.

“I happen to be her boy-… friend.” He defended, “Her- her friend who’s a boy…”

The frantic guy blinked and swayed his head expectantly - he was looking for a name.

“Nick.” He complied, incomplete without an eye roll. “And who exactly are you?”

“Roger. Right, Nick, she’s gonna be fine but I need you to either fetch some orange juice or back up.” He spoke quickly.

“No-”

Roger glanced up at him, one brow raised.

“N-No, I want to help.” He stammered.

“Alright, then, here- raise her legs about a foot in the air.” He instructed, his hands fumbling with the buttons of your shirt, just at the top, revealing the edge of your bra.

“Wait, what the hell do you think your-”

“It’s constricting her.”

Nick breathed unsteadily and glanced down to your face. You were pale as a ghost, a sweat sheath glossing your face and neck.

He noticed Roger swiftly sliding your belt off and tossing it to the side.

“And why are you-”

“Both are constricting her- God, do you know anything about unconscious hazards? Look, are you going to help or not?”

Nick stared at him for a moment, lips parted, taking way too much time.

“Oh, for God’s sake, move.”

With his left arm, Roger lifted your legs at such an angle that it sped up the course of blood towards your heart while keeping an eye on his watch. His eyebrows furrowed as he was now focused on nothing but you.

Nick settled back onto his heels under him, huffing at the fact that he was deemed pretty much helpless in this scenario, shoving a hand into his hair as he watched this stranger undress you.

After a moment, Roger shrugged his denim shirt off his shoulders and balled it up.

“Look, I know what I’m doing, so screw off or be of use to help your friend who’s a girl,” he mocked, “and go get her a damn drink, a’right?” He snapped, gesturing the crumpled shirt to the doorway.

“O-Okay, fine.” Nick complied, pushing himself to his knees and rushing out of the room as a few others meandered about the tables scattered around the big room.

Roger sighed, glancing back down at your ghostly limp body once he was gone.

“Alright, love, work with me here.” Roger coached.

You could feel a warm, widespread palm lift your heavy head, though your eyes weren’t open yet. It set you back down, but not all the way back to the carpet - something elevated your head, now.

He blew out a breath and tucked his dangling hair behind one ear.

Roger lifted your head from the balled shirt ever so gently and tilted it as he examined for any signs of bleeding. As he leaned over you to check the other side, your eyes fluttered open and you were awoken to the sight of a bare chest. You made a sound of pain as you lifted a hand to the side of your head, where you hit the chair.

Roger felt your head resist in his touch and noticed you were now awake.

“Are you hurt?” His endearing voice was low, brows pinched together as he searched your eyes.

You took a moment to process and shook your head slightly.

“Oh- right- my name’s Roger. You’re in the library, you fainted a few moments ago. I study biology here and-” He noticed the look of slight intimidation and cautiousness across your face. “How are you doing?” He restarted.

“Roger,” You repeated, drawing a soft smile from him.

You drew in your first deep, real breath, reaching the pit of your lungs, and you noticed the feel his fingertips from one hand beneath your neck as you lifted from the floor and settled back onto them.

“Roger,” You prompted, admiring his baby blues hovering about a foot above you as you reached a sweaty palm to the side of his face.

“Yes, love,” He spoke with a soft laugh at your delirious smile and gesture.

“Did I stick the landing?”

He swiped a sweaty strand of hair from your flushed cheek behind your ear as his smile grew, biting the inside of his lip.

“You certainly had quite the landing, love.” He offered.

“Roger,” You asked a moment later, once again.

“Mhmm?” He hummed, his expression half reading with concern and half projecting pure giddy admiration now that your eyes were able to make contact with him.

“Where’s my belt?”

His face pulled out of a trance as his eyes widened, reaching behind him.

“Oh, shit, right. Sorry ‘bout that.” He handed you the leather strap.

You reached a shaky hand to his outstretched forearm and traced a finger over his raised veins, ogling them and then back to his eyes again. You met his gaze that had shifted out to the rest of the room, outliers of students murmuring as they stood waiting to see if you were okay.

You glanced back at Roger and then began to hesitantly lift your arm, finally poking a stiff thumbs up into the air, trying to break the awkward tension permeating. Scattered applause erupted as Roger laughed breathlessly and dipped his head a bit more intimately towards yours.

“Do you have any idea what made you faint, love?”

You opened your mouth to speak and then choked out a breathy laugh before clearing your throat.

“I’m not the biggest fan of broken bones.”

“A kinesiology student?”

You nodded sheepishly, biting your cheek.

“-that doesn’t like… bones.” He teased.

You shoved his shoulder, shaking your head as he laughed again.

“Perhaps you just need a better study partner.” He quipped.

You looked around in confusion, realizing Nick was no longer around.

“Where’s- Where’s Nick gone? -My friend.”

Roger ignored his urge to smile and instead drew his bottom lip into his mouth and hung his head as he let out a small scoff-laugh, none of which you missed.

He returned his eyes to yours. Those baby blues gleamed and you felt your heart beating in your chest, fast, but, no longer overwhelming your ears.

“He’ll be back. Sent him to go do some good other than making pretty ladies sick to their stomachs.”

You shook your head, grinning wide before refastening your shirt.

He extended a hand towards you after he got onto his feet, lowered so he was able to keep a supportive hand behind you as you rose.

He watched your face as you adjusted to the blood rushing back down your body.

“Woah, woah, take it easy. ‘In no rush, darling.” He assured, his calloused hand still grasping your small one.

You took a deep breath and sat back down on the chair he pulled out for you.

He knelt down in front of you and your cheeks blushed a new shade of pink as his warm palms settled over your knees, his thumbs brushing the insides. He looked over his shoulder to see Nick standing there, clutching a juice box with pale knuckles.

“Nick.” You smiled weekly as Roger took the box from him, Nick’s gaze glued to you. Nick did something akin to a double take once he realized the juice had been taken and Roger was already aiding the straw to your mouth.

He looked back at Nick again as he let you take hold of the box yourself. He stood and reached out a hand for him to shake, but Nick just stood there, trying to unclench his jaw as he watched you over Roger’s shoulder, sipping quietly, a hand pressed to your temple.

“Did good for your friend, mate.” Roger offered a thin-lipped smile instead.

Nick swallowed hard, watching as he scooped up his shirt from the floor and dove his arms through it, not bothering to button it up.

Roger returned by your side, leaning down as he handed you a pen with a chewed cap stuck on the end of it.

You slurped the last gulp, feeling your energy return as you processed the situation with a much clearer head. You glanced up at him, a wide, genuine smile spread across his cheeks as his eyes delved into your own.

Setting the box aside, you took the pen from him, twirling it in your fingers as you eyed the familiar dented plastic of your doing, imprinted with teeth marks.

Before he could leave, you swiped his palm in front of you and Nick watched the two of you as you scribbled something down, unfolding his arms, his lips parting.

Roger stood up and frowned in concentration as he adjusted the proximity of his hand from his eyes, his glasses abandoned long ago with his textbook back by the window.

His smile returned as his moistened his lip in his mouth, looking back down at you nodding slowly, the cap-side of the pen being held between your pearly whites in a wide smile.

Roger turned back over to Nick as you did so, too, and sent a nod in his direction. He winked at you, and he was off.

You watched as he tucked his books into a bag with some drumsticks poking out and disappeared out a back door, the sides of his unbuttoned shirt flailing behind him.

“Don’t choke, kiddo,” Nick’s voice - oddly laced with a hint of a sternness - pulled you out of your daydreams as he stood in front of his laptop, promptly shutting it to discard the leftover animations of his study session. “Wouldn’t want you to faint again.” His eyes side-glared at you as he packed up the rest of his things.

You swallowed and removed the pen from your mouth, spinning it between your thumb and fingers again before glancing out the window to see a familiar figure strut past rushing students who opted to cover their heads in the rain. You saw him glance down at his hand and copy something into his phone from the smudging scribbles.

A shy smile crept across your lips as you breathed contentedly. You could see his hair becoming a shade or two darker from the rain soaking it.

You felt a brisk shove of air spritz your face, drawing a sound of surprise from you.

“Nick!” You laughed as he withdrew his hand, a squished, empty juice box clamped in it.

He chuckled. He had gotten you out of your trance, for a moment, before your gaze went right back to Roger, the guy in no rush in the rain…

Please let me know what you thought! Enjoy your days, loves of my life!

More written works in my masterlist,  and even more in my blurb page!

Permanent Tag List (inbox to be added/removed): @thesecondlastjedi @rogerinarogerina, @somekindofroger  (i lost track of some, sorry if this was the case for you; there were more but good thing i have a mastelist docking everything ive written there ;) )

[faceless-stay]

A continuation of a thing

Guess who still can't come up with titles!

Anywho, I didn't say this earlier but this is strictly my imagination. I highly, highly doubt this is anything like how skz are in real life, I'm just over here having fun.

Warnings for swearing and parental fighting.

So maybe you were kind of friends with minho now.

And maybe you thought his smile brought sunshine into your life.

And maybe you thought some other things about minho too, things you would never say to his face. Like how you often caught yourself looking at his lips when he talked, caught yourself wanting to run you hands through his hair until it was ruffled because you thought he was that much more beautiful when he looked like he didn't care.

And maybe you wondered if he thought that way about you too.

But you ignored it best you could. You had too much on your plate as it was. You couldn't let things get out of hand.

Or at least more than it already has been.

You and minho sat together at lunch.

The boys never really figured out how the two of you worked things out. They tried their best, but their incessant nagging fell on deaf ears. Changbin has had yet to go a day without claiming he was the reason for your sudden friendship, which was partly true.

But you'd never tell him that.

Oftentimes, changbin would have his arm wrapped around Felix as he spoke of the glorious reckoning brought on by his "gentle encouragement," as he often called it. You didn't have the heart to say otherwise.

During one of these boasting sessions you learned close to minho, whispering,

"Are those two going out or something?"

At this particular moment in time Felix was staring at changbin like the stars had fallen right in front of him, laughing while changbin practically burst with pride.

"Honestly," minho whispered back, "I don't even know anymore." Grinning at you, minho called out to changbin and Felix. "so how long have you two been together?"

Changbin froze mid-sentence as felix turned crimson, his freckles a constellation in a galaxy of red. You barely managed to control your laughter as changbin shot you a glare.

Unable to control yourselves, you and minho fell into uncontrollable laughter.

Scowling, changbin shot back, "look who's talking! If anyone's a couple here it's you two." He tried to pull off a cocky smile but failed, clearly still flustered. Now it was your turn to blush.

Minho threw his head back, cackling. His arm snaked around you as he said, "what? We didn't tell you?"

You spun at him so quickly your neck snapped. You gaped, resembling a very confused fish. Minho tapped your leg and leaned in close, whispering "play along."

You swallowed and nodded, choking out a laugh.

Minho turned to changbin saying, "sorry about that. I guess someone wasn't ready to tell them yet, huh babe?" Still flustered you nodded yet again, struggling to keep up the act.

Changbin squinted, suspicious. "Sure you are. There's no chance in hell you guys are together." Minho smirked, and if you weren't still in shock you might have slapped him.

"Uh, yeah we are," Minho replied confidently. Changbin wasn't convinced. "Then what's the story? Who confessed first." You swallowed.

"I did," you said shakily. "It all happened so fast. One moment we hated each other's guts and the next we were-"

Changbin scoffed. "Could you be more unbelievable? Come on, y/n. You can do better than that." You glanced at Minho, unsure what to do. You weren't used to feeling like this, fluttery and excited. You liked being in control. Right now, you weren't. Minho was.

You made eye contact. Something boiled under the surface. Minho looked like at you like you were everything and nothing at once.

And then he kissed you.

It was just...right. It was long enough to mean something, but short enough to hint at something more. It was sweet as honey and as bright as the sun. Your lips could stay like this forever. And then it was over.

Changbin gaped as you reddened and minho chuckled. You'd both managed to grab everyone's attention with the unexpected display.

"That proof enough for you, changbin?" Minho said, that same delicious smirk slipping across his features once again.

Changbin didn't respond.

What. The fuck. Just happened.

The rest of lunch went by in a blur. Minho was oblivious to any discomfort you may have had, and shrugged the action off without a second thought. You, on the other hand, were far less nonchalant.

Why? The question echoed, your confusion growing with every reverb inside your mind. What did it mean? Did it mean anything at all? Part of you wasn't surprised. Minho wasn't known for deep, intimate connections to say the least. This was just a game to him. But he kissed you. Like honest to God, mouth-to-mouth kissed you. That's got to mean something, right?

You stayed quiet, frustration bubbling up within you. He can't do that. He can't fucking do that to you! You didn't know if what he'd done made you want to hurt him or fall more in love.

Fuck.

You were whipped.

If anyone noticed your discomfort, they didn't let on. The rest of the period was full of questions and teasing, most of which minho handled. You played along to the best of your ability, but by the end you found yourself both exhausted and angry.

You sighed with relief when the bell marking the end of lunch rang. You packed up whilst Minho waited as nowadays you often walked to class together.

You didn't make eye contact.

"Holy shit, they actually bought that?" Minho laughed, incredulous. "Fucking idiots, I thought they would have seen right through it."

You didn't respond.

Minho kept rambling. It would be cute if you didn't want to punch him so badly. "I mean, you weren't much help," he laughed, hitting you on the arm.

You didn't laugh back.

"Ya, what's wrong?" Minho asked, finally noticing your silence. Nervousness bubbled within him. You scowled.

"Goddammit y/n. are we doing this shit again?" Minho said, running his hands through his hair. Your jaw clenched and your knuckles turned white.

"You don't get to do that." You said quietly, trying to keep your anger under control.

"I'm sorry, what?"

You turned to him, eyes on fire. "You don't get to do that shit."

Minho rolled his eyes. "Come on y/n, it was just a game. Did you see changbin's face? It was hilarious!"

"Yeah," you shot back. "Maybe to you it was! But that shit's supposed to mean something! It's not just-"

Minho cut you off. "Who said it didn't mean anything?" Your heart leapt into your throat.

"And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." Minho sighed. "It doesn't mean anything. Look, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, i should have asked if you were chill with it first. I won't do it again, okay?"

You nodded stiffly. "Thank you." Since when does minho say sorry?

The rest of the day went without event. You stayed late planning to cram for a test you had the next morning, even though by the time you got home there would be hell to pay. You sat in the library with a fresh cup of coffee in hand, prepared to dive into the wonder that was European history when an unusually obnoxious disturbance in the force stole your attention.

A disturbance named jisung.

He set his belongings down with a thump, takeout bag in hand. You glared at him. Jisung ignored you and began shoveling noodles into his mouth.

"So," he said around a mouthful of food. "That thing at lunch."

You raised an eyebrow. "What about it?"

He frowned. "was it real?"

"Hell, no," you replied, not liking the turn this conversation was making. "That was all him. Trust me."

jisung nodded. “but you want it to be.”

“again, hell no,” you repeated, praying to whatever god there was you weren't blushing like an idiot.

you were.

“wow, minho wasn't kidding,” jisung chuckled. “you are a shitty liar.” you wanted to shoot back a witty retort. unfortunately, all you could think was, he talks about me?

“fuck off,” you said, arms folded and scowl (barely) set in place. “i wouldn't go out with him if we were the last living beings on earth.”

“mmmhmmmmmmm,” was the only reply you garnered. “so are you gonna ask him out or what?”

you fought the urge to punch this kid in his stupid mouth.

“nothing's. going. to happen.” you growled, all out of patience. “now leave me the hell alone so i can study.”

jisung shrugged, unbothered. “whatever you say. i'll leave you alone if you admit you like him and promise me you'll doing something about it. beyond meaningless pining.” damn, he really thinks i'm that shallow?

you threw your head back and sighed dramatically, gathering the attention of several nearby studyers. “fine! i have a crush on lee minho and i promise to make a move sometime in the future.”

“near future?” jisung prodded.

“get lost.”

jisung saluted you with mock sincerity as he scuttled away, leaving you to your studies. once he was gone you glanced at the time.

shit.

you were really gonna be late.

after cramming for what felt like forever, you packed up, checked out, and prayed you wouldn't get murdered for getting back so late. you caught a bus and practically sprinted the rest of the way home. the sun had set on the ride back, and your heart sank with it, knowing how absolutely fucked you were. a pit formed in the bottom of your stomach as you saw the front door ajar.

you paused, and the pit in your stomach turned into a raging storm. you could here raised voices, the sound of something shattering against a wall.

this was bad.

this was really bad.

you pushed through the door and rushed upstairs, ignoring the shouts of your mom as she watched you disappear. throwing your books on your bed, you searched the floor urgently, checking every room. “shit, shit, shit, where are they?!” you panicked, slamming doors and shoving miscellaneous objects out of the way. you heard sniffles coming from a closet. you pulled the door open and fell to your knees.

a little boy and a girl looked up at you, a mess of snot and tears on their faces.

they launched themselves into your arms as you bit back tears of your own. “shhhhhhhhh, it's okay,” you whispered, voice breaking. “i'm here now, ya? they're not going to hurt us, okay? mommy and daddy are just a little bit upset right now.” the two children pushed closer to you, burying themselves into the only safe space they had left.

“they were so loud,” the girl mumbled into your chest. “and daddy was really angry. he-he yelled at us,” she collapsed into tears and you began to shake. the voices below you crescendoed, and bits and pieces of the conversation floated through the air vents.

freeing an arm, you shoved a box on top of it. screw fire hazards. picking up the both of them, you carried them to your room and set them down on your bed.

“it's time to go to sleep, okay?” you said, shutting the light off as both children slipped under the covers, looking up at you with tearful eyes. you sighed.

“do you want me to lay with you?”

your siblings nodded solemnly.

as you squeezed under the covers in a bed certainly not made for three, the tears you were holding back silently slipped out, but you brushed them away before either child could see. you laid in silence for mere moments before someone started shaking your shoulder. rolling over, you saw your brother.

“y/n? do mommy and daddy still love us?”

you wanted to say yes. you wanted so badly to be true. but as you opened your mouth, you couldn't help thinking, if they loved us, wouldn't they have stopped doing this a long time ago?

“don't worry about it, love,” you replied instead, ruffling his hair. “that's a tomorrow question.”

you didn't realize he was already asleep.

[moonstruckbucky]

Once Upon an Us (2/?)

Summary: When your childhood best friend asks you to be her Maid of Honor in her wedding, you’re thrilled. When she confesses that your ex is the best man, you’re suddenly not so sure about this.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: A boatload of angst, some nasty words, Bucky and reader are both mean, fluff, and some good old smut

Notes: Appreciate the feedback, likes, and reblogs from chapter 1! Onto chapter 2!

Series Masterlist

chapter two.

You hated airports. The smell, the business of them, the fact that you felt dirtier and dirtier walking through one despite taking a shower earlier that morning. Logan Airport was no different, except walking out into the streets of Boston, suitcase trailing behind you, felt like taking a breath of fresh air. It felt like coming home. And in all actuality, you were home.

Nat and Steve were waiting for you just after baggage claim, and, in true Natasha fashion, she made a spectacle out of running to you and nearly knocking you off your feet.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” she squealed, releasing you only to smack your arm. You made a noise of indignance, which she ignored. “It’s been too damn long, you bitch!”

Laughing, you kissed her cheek with an obnoxious mwah. “Missed you too, gorgeous. Hey Steve!”

“Y/N,” he said with an adoring smile, stealing you from Nat to hug you tightly. “You look good. She’s right though, it’s been way too long.”

“Well, you know me. Workaholic,” you joked with a shrug. The knowing look Steve and Nat exchanged didn’t go unnoticed by you, but you opted to let it go. No doubt you’d get to rehash those lovely details later.

The ride to Steve and Nat’s beautiful Marblehead home was filled with endless chatter. Mostly it was courtesy of Nat, who filled you in on everything you’d missed since moving to the West Coast. Sam met a girl who didn’t mind his clinginess, Clint finally popped the question to his long-time girlfriend Laura, and Wanda and Vision moved in together. Everyone’s life was moving on all at once, and the thought of that, of everyone moving on without you, caused a dull ache in your heart.

You also took notice of the fact that Natasha purposely left out any mention of your ex in her list of your friends who had major life events happen. Heaven knew you weren’t about to open up that can of worms and ask.

Unfortunately, Nat could also read you like an open book, and she turned in her seat to raise a perfectly tweezed eyebrow at you.

“Not gonna ask about You-Know-Who?” she teased, though there was a serious note in her voice.

You pressed your lips into a thin line and shrugged. “I can if you want me to, but knowing you, if you had wanted me to know, you would’ve included him in that list of yours.”

She gave you a look, as if you were that transparent, and you sighed. “Fine. How is Bucky?”

“He’s good.”

You rolled your eyes and pinned her with an unamused look. “Really? That’s it? You pester me about asking after him and all you’ve got to say is ‘he’s good’?”

“S’not a lie,” she reminded with a shrug. But the chewing of her teeth on her bottom lip belied her nonchalance. “He’s...Bucky.”

You scoffed lightly. “So he hasn’t changed in six years. Good to know.”

“Y/N.”

“Natasha.”

“You promised you’d try!” she whined.

“Oh I will try,” you argued, crossing your arms. “But he better have made the same promise. Otherwise your wedding might be a funeral.”

It was relatively quiet for the rest of the ride, broken only by Nat tossing out brainstorming ideas for the wedding. The real work, you knew, would begin once you were settled in their guest bedroom.

Nat didn’t disappoint, as almost as soon as your suitcase for the next week had been unpacked and shoved under the guest bed she dropped a heavy box onto the bed beside you.

“Jesus, Nat,” you exclaimed as you sat up. You flipped the lid on the box, revealing the piles of photos, notebooks, wedding invitation ideas, and who knew what else inside. “Wedding fever much?”

“Hey, a girl only gets married once,” she argued. At your raised eyebrows she added, “Usually. Besides, you know I’ve been planning for this my whole life.”

She was correct. Despite her sometimes surly appearance, a term you lovingly reminded her was a “resting bitch face”, Nat was a hopeless romantic at heart. From the age of 10 she’d been planning her dream wedding, and while her ideas changed as she got older from an elegant princess wedding to something a little more conservative and intimate, her obsession with weddings never wavered.

Thus, she accumulated quite a lot of wedding shit over the years.

Nat sat on the bed, the box between you, and began digging through it. She dumped a stack of magazines onto the bedspread, followed by a folder titled “Invitation Ideas”, and finally settled on her homemade scrapbook. You smiled a little at the memory of designing it with her. Printing out wedding dress inspiration, hairstyles, makeup ideas. It was all contained in that scrapbook, which Nat opened with a flourish.

“Remember when we first started this thing and we both wanted to have a joint wedding?” she teased, a sparkle in her eye. You rolled your eyes and nodded.

“Yeah. And then they came out with that movie Bride Wars and we promptly decided a joint wedding was a terrible idea.” The two of you laughed, the memory replaying clear as day in your mind’s eye.

“Oh dear, where was my mind when I printed this atrocity out?” Her manicured finger pointed to a photo of a dress with a mile-wide poofy skirt.

“I think you recently tried to channel your Little Mermaid. Isn’t that kind of the style she wore?” you said with a giggle.

Nat groaned. “Probably. God, I hated that stage.”

“Au contraire, I think you loved it.” She scrunched her nose and you laughed again. “Okay, okay, I think first things first, the invitations. Have you thought about how many people?”

“Not too big. Maybe fifty at the most. I like the smaller weddings now.”

“Wow, you really have grown up.” You faked wiping a tear from your eye, cackling when Nat pressed her hand to your face and pushed you backwards.

“Hey, you guys sound like you’re having way too much fun in here,” came Steve’s voice as he poked his head into the doorway. You and Nat traded a look and scoffed, giggling right after. Rolling his eyes, Steve shoved his hands in his pockets. “I ordered a couple pizzas. Figured it was better than cooking. You’ll get a first-class meal tomorrow night, okay?”

“Gonna hold you to that, Rogers,” you threatened, pointing a finger at him.

“Have I ever disappointed you?”

“Hmm. No. Not yet.”

“Well then, don’t count on it happening ever.”

“Uh huh. Okay, I’m starving. Why don’t we take these invitation samples and go discuss this with your future husband, yeah? That way I can make sure Steve keeps his filthy mitts off my pineapple pizza.”

Chapter One / Chapter Three