#a thing he knew about when he bought the fucking tickets and said he'd go!!

[hauntedfalcon]

I'm going fucking inSANE no one FUCKING listens to me and I get to fucking SUFFER for it

[theythinkimsuchagoodboy]

God, it'd had taken forever to get there, Friday night. You were finally going to see the band you'd been waiting two years to see. When they announced the show months earlier you'd set an alarm to get tickets right when they went on sale. You didn't think they'd sell out, but why take the chance. You got two tickets thinking you'd be able to find someone to go with you, but all your friends were busy and you knew your boyfriend didn't like the band, but maybe he'd go with you so you didn't have to go by yourself, which wouldn't have been too bad, but you'd already bought the tickets, so…

Finally, finally, finally it was Friday. You'd heard good things about the opener, but your boyfriend was late getting out of work, he said, but his breath smelled like whiskey when he got home. You were antsy because you wanted to get there, but you knew he was doing you a favor, he kept reminding you, how could you forget, so you didn't push it, and by the time you got there the opening band was already done. Oh well, you'll catch them next time maybe. Your boyfriend started bitching as soon as you got there. The floor was sticky and the place smelled like beer and it was packed. He was out of place with his Oxford button down and slacks and boat shoes, but it was nice he came with you. When he went to get drinks you made eye contact with a guy standing a bit over and he looked you over and you knew it and fuck, why did you like that? He was older and you let him look and you looked him over, too, didn't you and he was scruffy, sort of, but not dirty, you could tell he was clean, stable, but god he looked good and he was enjoying looking at you and you didn't mind a bit did you? and then your boyfriend came back, clueless. You grabbed your boyfriend's hand and pulled him closer to the stage, looking over your shoulder once at that man and he watched you go with a smirk.

And then the lights fell and everyone roared and the crowd moved forward as one. Your boyfriend's been on his phone texting since you left the apartment and he still is, even while your favorite band is right there, so close. Why can't he enjoy it? And you look around to see that man is standing right behind you, the one from before. He's right there behind you. You can't be sure, but you think he's pressing into you more than is necessary despite the crowd pushing forward. Your boyfriend doesn't notice anything, text text text, and you think you feel a hand on your ass, but maybe it's someone holding a phone, you can't tell, but you think maybe you want it to be a hand, his hand, and you'd never tell anyone would you, but you do. You hope it's his hand. and then there's that brushing again, is that a hand? No. It could be anythi- no, that's definitely a hand on your ass and you think it must be that man's hand. The crowd is all crushed in and this hot guy is definitely grabbing your ass with your boyfriend standing right there. And after the third song your boyrfriend says, let's go I've got a work emergency and you say you can't go, you just can't and he pouts and you can't believe he's trying to make you leave so you tell him it's OK, you'll get a cab home and he leaves and you don't think there was a work emergency. Recently he's been hinting he wants to maybe have an open thing, but you haven't really talked about it. And you turn to watch your boyfriend leave and see the man is there and he watches you watch your boyfriend and he makes eye contact and takes your hand and you let him for some reason.

He's pulling you out of the crowd while the band plays your second favorite song from your second favorite album and you can see your boyfriend a few people ahead, but he's glued to his phone, doesn't give a shit about the band, is not going to look back, but the man is pulling you faster and you're basically right behind him holding hands with a stranger, how would you explain this, huh? Your boyfriend goes to the bathroom and the man leads you right by him out into the lobby and out into the night where it's muggy, it needs a rain, and you turn left out the door and then another quick left into an alley.

A few yards into the alley, you're in the shadow and you can see people on the sidewalk and cars on the street and they can't see you at all which is good because suddenly he's on you, that man, pushing you against the brick, and you can just make out the base of another song you like, and he's biting your ear, his hands all over you, and up your shirt and unhooking your bra and playing with your tits and rubbing down your thighs and holding you tight against him, but not kissing for some reason. Your hands are pulling him into you and he's bigger than you, sturdier, and you're mind is mush, just a blur, of what the fuck are you doing and as he sucks on your neck, your cheek pressed against the bricks, you see your boyfriend walk by the alley talking on the phone and that was the first time you moaned for this stranger.

And he turns you around and pushes you against the wall, not meanly, not roughly, but not gentle. You wouldn't have liked gentle. Your boyfriend is gentle. And the man unbuttons your jeans and pulls them down your thighs with your underwear and you feel his hand cup your pussy sliding up your slit to your clit. You're so wet he whispers in your ear and you moan again. He pulls your pants down further and gets down behind you, spreading your legs and eating you out from behind with your jeans around your ankles, his thumb on your clit as his tongue goes in your pussy and in your ass, fuck, that feels good. And then he's standing behind you again. His jeans are rough on your objectively perfect ass. It's really quite something, your ass. Just perfect. He pushes your head into the brick wall, still warm from the day, while he opens his pants and takes his dick out and then he's pushing into you. He's big, but not huge. Maybe about the same as your boyfriend maybe a little bigger. You'd have to taste it to know. You'd have to put it into your mouth to know for sure who was bigger. But it feels big and it feels good and your phone's ringing now. You know who it is. You know who is calling.

But you don't care. You're getting fucked hard outside a concert you've wanted to see for years. He's grunting now the man. Fucking you hard. In and out. Your face and hips pressed against the brick. Your phone stops ringing and starts again almost immediately. That dumb apple ring. The man's grunting is getting louder. His breath more ragged, yours too. You come. It's been a while. Not the best orgasm of your life, but the most unexpected, and one of the fastest. And you're whispering fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me when you come again, or you think you're whispering. You're not shouting it, but it's not a whisper. And he's gonna come in your pussy. You didn't realize that until now. But now you know. As your boyfriend calls, a stranger is going to come inside you. You don't even let your boyfriend come inside you. And then he does. The man finishes with another grunt. A low moan as you feel him spurt inside you once, again, again. The phone rings again. And he leans against you for a second catching his breath. Then pulls away, turns you around and pushes you to your knees. He slaps you once sharply, fast, but not too hard, just enough to get your attention. You notice the ring on his finger for the first time and you almost come again.

He puts his fingers in your mouth and you suck them, you can't help it, you need to. You suck his fingers and look up at him. You reach up and take his fingers out of your mouth and take his dick in your hand, sticky and wet with the both of you. You put it in your mouth and it starts to harden immediately. You always loved how it felt when a dick got harder in your mouth. You're sucking him up and down, bobbing on his cock, trying to keep eye contact. One of your hands reaches between your legs to your sloppy, soaked pussy. You push two fingers inside and pull some of his come out to rub on your clit. Your other hand goes up your shirt to brush against your nipple. Soon you're moaning on his cock. You're really going for it this time. You don't know if it's the best blowjob he's ever gotten (it is), but it's the best blowjob you've ever given. You come again and then he floods your mouth. You look up at him and spit it out on the ground because fuck him you don't owe him anything. He smirks and shakes his head. Your phone's ringing again.

Then he steps back and buttons up his pants. He reaches down to help you up and then pulls your pants up part of the way up so he can fish in your pockets for your phone. He grabs it, silences it, holds it up to your face to unlock while you watch him dumb. He texts a number you don't recognize, deletes the text, ands hands your phone back with a smile. It's a sheepish smile. Thankful, but smug. Kind of like he knows you got as much out of it as he did. (You did.) The smile is grateful, hopeful, but like he did a good job. What a good boy he is for making you come on his cock while your boyfriend called. This smug stranger. And then he leads you back into the show where he stands behind you pressed tight into you the rest of the night, his hand around your middle pulling you into him. Later on, in bed when you're rubbing yourself about the whole night while your boyfriend snores quietly next to you you realize the stranger had texted himself from your phone and could text you whenever he wanted. Which he did, now and then, and sometimes you responded didn't you.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I gave my sister's concert ticket to her ex boyfriend and make her pay for it? NSFW warning

I (24 cis female) and my younger sister (19 cis female) have tickets for a concert we both really like. Sister and i have been saving up for a while as tickets are a little pricey where we live. I bought the tickets in my name but my sister paid half for hers. we have two cars in the family. One for my dad (50s cis male) and one for us for college. Last weekend my sister asked if she could borrow my car for a few days as she was going to be in the next city over for a party with her friends and boyfriend. I said sure because I knew I would be at home all weekend. i got a call on sunday morning from my sister's boyfriend (21 cis male) saying that I needed to come and pick her up because he was done with her. apparently over that weekend not only had she driven the car off of the road and had just left it there (nobody was injured, thank god) but had also hooked up with her boyfriend's best friend (20 cis male). Dad and i went to pick her up and she looked so proud of herself. When i asked her about what she had done she just said "well you did worse than me at this age. i should be able to have some fun. it's not like i completely wrecked the car." like zero fucking remorse whatsoever. getting the car towed and checked out cost more than i would like to admit. we're without a car for a good few weeks. my sister refused to even pay for some of the repairs because "it's not technically my car., you bought it." she had been blasting her ex on social media too, making memes and tiktoks poking fun at him. I told her if that wa.s the attitude she wanted to have, then the concert ticket "wasn't technically hers either" because i bought the tickets. i reached out to her boyfriend to check on him as we had been close before this and he was not doing well. I asked him if he wanted to come to the concert with me to try and cheer him up and take his mind off of things bc I know he was a fan too. he sounded really excited and told me he'd get back to me. well my sister found out that I was going to give her ticket to her ex and she lost her shit. she started screaming and crying that i was her sister and i should take her side and support her no matter what. she told me she never judged me when i contracted an STI last year and never went to my boyfriend telling him about it or offering him support. I told her she was being a bitch and she needs to grow up, and that she can reimburse me for the full ticket if she is that bothered about it. I sent a cashapp request for the full price of the ticket multiple times but she has since blocked me on the app and is refusing to talk to me. WIBTA if i do give him the ticket?

What are these acronyms?

[captainimprobable]

Huntlow: "I've got my suit, we have a full tank of gas, and you look beautiful."

(Hope things get easier soon.)

Willow could tell that something was very wrong, because Hunter had been quiet for at least three minutes straight. She loved her boyfriend with everything she had, but, more importantly, she knew him. And after three years of dating, she was quite aware of the fact that Hunter liked to talk. The topic of conversation varied greatly; depending on the hour it could be anything from a one sided debate on the mechanics of the Cosmic Frontier ships to a rant about how gorgeous his girlfriend was. (Willow was rather partial to the second, but she was happy to listen to anything he had to say, really.) So when Hunter went quiet in the living room, she exited the bathroom mildly concerned that he'd passed out at the computer where she'd left him. "Hunter?" she asked as she walked across the room. Hunter didn't respond, but he did turn his chair around to slowly face her with a look of great shame on his face. "I'm so sorry Willow," he said, nervously biting his thumbnail, "I, uh, I kind of fucked up." Willow smiled reassuringly and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure it's not as bad as you're making it seem, babe."

In addition to being a certified yapper, Hunter also happened to be extremely hard on himself. Hunter flinched. "No, it's actually bad this time," he assured her. "You know those plane tickets we got? The ones for Tuesday?" "The tickets to get to Connecticut?" "Yeah..." Willow started to feel a great sense of unease in the pit of her stomach. "What happened?"

Hunter took a deep breath and then finally blurted it out: "We don't actually have tickets for Tuesday. I'm so sorry." Willow blinked at him, not quite certain she was hearing this right. "What...what do you mean?" "I mean, I just got an email confirming our tickets to Connecticut....for Friday. And yes, before you ask, I looked up literally every single airline in existence for seats on any plane for Tuesday. Or Wednesday, or Thursday, or even Monday." Willow closed her eyes and backed up a few feet until she was sitting on the couch. "Shit. How...?"

Hunter stood up, dawdling in the middle of the room like he wasn't sure whether he was allowed to join Willow on the couch or not. "It's my fault. I was distracted when I bought the tickets back in May, and I must have clicked the wrong day, and now-" "-And now we're going to miss our best friends' wedding," Willow finished.

"I'm so sorry, I feel awful, I didn't do it on purpose, I-"

"I know," Willow said gently, "I don't blame you. It's just...what are we gonna do? Not being there is not an option." "Yeah, I know, which is why I got a kind of....crazy idea." There was suddenly a mischievous glint in Hunter's eye, and in spite of herself and in spite of the situation, Willow found herself smiling. Whatever Hunter was going to say next was sure to be at best helpful and at least entertaining. Hunter smiled back at her, and Willow was not surprised to feel the butterflies in her stomach. Even after all these years, she still felt them all the time. "What if we drove there?" Willow let that sit in the air for a second before saying "As in, road trip across the country? In four days?" "I mean, we've done crazier things, and besides, this is Luz and Amity. I know you'd do anything for them, and I sure as hell would too. So..."

"Hmmm. When would we leave?" Hunter's grin got even bigger. "I was thinking...maybe now?" "Now???" Hunter shrugged. "Why not? I've got my suit, we have a full tank of gas, and you look beautiful." Willow giggled. "What does me looking beautiful have to do with anything?" "Nothing, really, but I've only told you like two times today, which definitely wasn't enough." God, Willow loved this man. "Okay." "Okay?" Willow stood up and stretched before walking over to her boyfriend and giving him a kiss. "Let's do this," she said, "Think you can handle being stuck in a car with me for four days?" Hunter snorted. "As if being stuck with you for four days isn't, like, the best thing that could ever possibly happen to me? Come on, Willow, you know me better than that." Willow laughed again and got on her tiptoes to ruffle Hunter's hair. "I love you," she said, as if he didn't know, as if she could ever, in any universe, pretend she was anything other than deeply in love with him. "I love you too," he said, "Now let's get our butts to Connecticut." ~ (I CANNOT THANK YOU FOR THIS ENOUGH ANON! This is the first time I've been able to write in MONTHS, ty ty ty!!! <3)

[camaro-and-smokes]

August

Part 6: Boyfriend

Warnings: no warnings apply Rating: Explicit Characters: Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington Tags for this chapter: Fluff, All the feels, lemons

See Chapter 1 post for links to other chapters >> Read on AO3 >>

::::::::::

Boyfriend.

Billy had never been called that before. Sure, he'd been called a friend, but never a boyfriend. The word with the boy-part in it had a whole different tone. It was more than just a friend, something special, something that had to be earned. Billy didn't really know what he had done to deserve it, but he was happy that he was Steve's boyfriend.

It still didn't quite fit his mouth to call Steve that either, but as he quietly repeated it while laying on his bed one July night, it started to hit home.

What he had with Steve might turn out to be serious. God, he wanted it to be that so bad. Steve was everything he wanted.

Steve saw through his bullshit, told him to calm down, asked what was really going on, and then helped him to sort it out. Steve listened, and comforted when shit hit the fan with Neil, and treated his wounds so gently, without any pity. Steve got his jokes, sometimes he was a bit dim, and didn't get it when he was flirted with – in a kinda cute way though – and was always, always telling him how much he liked him and liked being with him.

Steve peppered him with silly favours, made him his favourite sandwiches when he was over, bought his favourite snacks for their dates, and had learned quickly what kind of films he liked so they watched a lot of horror, sci-fi and action films together.

Then there were the not so silly favours. His own cue stick, which wasn't any cheap one but a good brand. A silver ear ring. Tickets to a Def Leppard concert in Indianapolis, rides included. Billy didn't necessarily like Def that much, but Steve wanted them to go, so he tagged along. And that night had been fun. His own drawer in Steve's dresser in case he needed it for 'socks or something, if you stay the night'. Running his fingers through his hair when they cuddled on the bed after having sex. A promise to help him to move away from Cherry Lane on the spot if he just said the word.

And then the sex - now that was a whole another thing. So slow that snails probably mated faster, but it was oh so good just because of it. Steve's soft lips and gentle hands on his skin, wanting to learn every inch of him, keeping him on the edge as long as possible, always making sure he felt good, even if they had it a bit rougher. No matter how much they had it, Billy could never have enough of it. Steve was definitely one of the best fucks he'd ever had.

No. Steve wasn't a fuck at all. He was more. Steve was his...lover.

Billy choked at the thought, and pulled the pillow under his head to bury his face into it. He suddenly realized that he didn't have to hope for anything.

Steve already was his, what they had already was more serious than anything before. Steve just hadn't used words to say it, for he knew that he didn't trust words. So, Steve had said it the way he knew he'd listen, and allowed him to connect the dots at his own pace.

The phone on Steve's night stand started ringing, waking him up. "Mhmm," he groaned to the phone. "Uh, hey. It's me. Did I wake you?" Billy said. "Yeah...But it's ok, I have a day off." "I remember. I just wanted to call you because..." Steve opened his eyes. "Because what?" "Uh...well, I realized something. And I feel stupid for not realizing it before." "Billy, you're making me worried." "It's nothing you need to be worried about. I think. Umm...Can I come over sooner than what we talked about?" "Uh, sure. Well, mom might still be around, but I do have friends over all the time, so it's not a problem if you're ok with it." "Can I come now?" "Sure."

Billy parked on the Harrington's driveway next to Steve's mom's car. He bit his nail as he pondered the possibility of having to meet Steve's mom. It would happen anyway at some point, and so it should, but now... Billy's train of thought was interrupted as the front door opened, and the woman in question walked out. Billy sighed and got out of the car. Better get this over with. Mrs. Harrington offered her hand to Billy hastily. "Hi! You must be Billy, nice to meet you. Sorry, I'm a bit late already, Steve's in the kitchen, just go ahead." And as soon as she appeared she was gone.

"Your mom was a...whirlwind," Billy said as he walked to the kitchen where Steve was having breakfast. Steve chuckled. "Yeah, that's her. Do you want something to eat?" Billy put his hands into his jacket pockets and shook his head. "No, thanks, I don't really feel like eating." Steve frowned at Billy for a while as he chewed his food. "Ok. What's up?" Billy sat by the table across Steve. "Can't I just come and see my boyfriend first thing in the morning?" Steve blushed and smiled a wide smile. "Sure you can. Just, let me finish this. We can then go and take a better look, ok?"

Steve closed the door to his room after after him. "I could get used to seeing you in my bed in the..." "I'd like that too," Billy said, and pinned Steve against the door. Steve leaned forward for a kiss, but Billy pulled his head back, smiling. Steve raised an eyebrow, but caught on, and let Billy do the work. Billy leaned to Steve, and gave him a light kiss, just a brush of lips. He did it again, and on the third time he gently parted Steve's lips with his tongue. Steve returned the favour, making chills run in Billy's back. "I realized something last night," Billy whispered as he looked Steve in the eyes just few inches apart. "What?" "That you're serious with me. With us." Steve looked at Billy, and smiled. "Yes. Yes I am." "And because you knew I wouldn't want words, you showed me." "Yes I did." They looked at each other for a while, both smiling. "Will you run, if I say that I care for you more than I've ever cared for anyone before?" Steve said quietly. Billy shook his head. "I trust you." Steve couldn't hold back any more. He wrapped his arms around Billy and kissed him, hard. The kiss was messy, full of emotion, and he pushed Billy towards his bed, making them fall on it when they reached it, and making both of them giggle as they bounced on it.

They continued kissing, and soon clothes started flying on the floor, both of them wanting to get rid of them as fast as possible. ”I'm sorry but this isn't going to be slow. I just can't, I need you so bad,” Steve whispered into Billy's mouth while kissing. ”I need you too,” Billy replied. ”Just get the lube.”

”Ride me, baby,” Steve said when he got himself ready. ”I want to see your eyes.” Billy straddled on Steve's lap, slowly easing himself on Steve's hardness. ”I will never get enough of you, Billy,” Steve said panting while he set the pace he wanted Billy to move by holding his hips with his hands. ”I'll always yearn for more, and that's everything.”

The feeling of Steve inside him, hitting the sweet spot on each thrust, and his words were too much. Billy couldn't hold back tears. Steve stopped Billy. ”Is everything alright?” he asked worried with a concerned expression on his face. He took Billy's chin into his hands and brushed the tears away from his face with his thumb. ”Everything is better than alright, Steve,” Billy whispered, and leaned to kiss him. “I...” Billy tried to speak between the sobs. “I think... I think I love you,” he whispered almost inaudibly.

A swarm of butterflies got lose on Steve's stomach, spreading all over him, making his skin ripple on goose flesh. Emotions got the better of him, and he felt alive for the first time, ever. “Billy, I love you too. You're everything I've ever wanted,” he whispered back, tears falling on his cheeks.

Billy smiled the wide smile that made Steve feel weak, and kissed Steve. The kiss was a whole different kind than the ones they'd had before the confessions. It was all fire, and passion – and love.

Steve's tears made it taste salty, but Billy didn't care. He was Steve's, and Steve was his, and it was everything.

Now they were even more hungry for each other, and when Billy came, Steve held him tightly against him, making himself follow him soon. They remained still for a long while in the aftermath, Billy panting and leaning his forehead on Steve's shoulder, Steve taking deep breaths, leaning his head on Billy's chest, holding him tight.

“Don't you fucking hurt me,” Billy whispered. “I won't. Ever,” Steve replied. “You can trust me.”

[howdoyousleep3]

Self care story of the day:

"I said I didn't want to! You know I hate those damn dinners. Besides, I was gonna make plans with Sam."

James gritted his teeth as he followed Steve towards the front of the house as the younger man got ready to head out to class. "I don't like 'em any more than you, but it's always easier with you there."

"Easier for you, maybe."

"C'mon, Stevie-doll, please? I promise I won't leave you alone this time. I got you a new suit and everything! You owe it to me to let me show you off in it at least once."

Steve instantly froze, hardly even breathing. Slowly--so, so slowly--he turned his head to look at his lover, blue eyes flat and cold. "I...owe you?"

James pulled up short, brows crinkling at the expression on Steve's face. "I just meant--,"

"Listen to me very closely, James Barnes," Steve's voice was so quiet, but the anger in it made James take a small step backwards, "I don't owe you a goddamm thing. Not my time, not my energy, and certainly not to be your arm candy in a setting where I hear nothing but backhanded compliments and snide remarks about being a gold-digger, just because you spent some money on a suit."

Steve turned around fully, body vibrating with fury. "You pursued me. You courted me. Everything you've ever bought me has been of your own volition. I never asked for any of it, didn't even want most of it. And if you think you can use your gifts to me as a source of obligation to make me do things or say things or go places, you can have every single fucking one of them back!"

James had no time to respond as Steve spun on his heel and slammed the door on his way out. He could only stand there, gaping like a fish, struck speechless by the anger and tears he'd seen in Steve's eyes.

"Shit," he pressed the heels of his hands to his forehead, slumping against the wall, "shit. Shit. Shit!"

The only thing he want to do was chase down his lover and swear up and down that he was right and James was wrong, that Steve didn't owe him a fucking thing and he knew he was blessed and humbled every day that Steve chose to keep James in his life.

But he couldn't. Steve needed time and space, and James needed a serious overhaul of his priorities.

Fuck the business dinner. His relationship was on the line.

-

Over the next several hours, James had to catch himself, time and again. He kept finding himself perusing website after website, filling virtual carts full of clothing, electronics, dinner reservations, plane tickets...all manner of band-aid purchases that would do nothing but aggravate the situation. He tried not to be too hard on himself about it; it was pretty much the only thing he knew how to do. All his previous relationships where hinged on money as much as mutual attraction. They all loved to be spoiled by him, and he thought nothing of it.

But not Steve.

Not his angry, prideful, stubborn, loyal, fierce, independent, beautiful Stevie-baby.

No.

Steve fought every single thing that James bought him, 'thank you's spoken through gritted teeth and more embarrassment than happiness staining his cheeks pink.

One of the few times Steve had actually welcomed a gift was when James picked him up from work with a tiny burst of wildflowers clutched in his fist. When Steve asked about them, James could only shrug as he handed them over and say, "They reminded me of your tattoo."

-

When James knew that Steve's classes were pretty much over for the day, as much as he wanted to go pick him up, he merely sent him a text:

I really want to talk this through with you. Please come home. I love you.

And then collapsed on the couch, drawing what comfort he could from Jenny as she leapt into his lap.

No response came to his text, but forty minutes after he sent it, the sound of the key in the lock had him tensing tight enough that Jenny left her perch and chose to curl up beside him instead.

Steve looked horrible as he slunk into the living room; eyes red and puffy, hair tangled from anxious fingers, face pale and raw from wiping away tears...James felt his heart break.

"Welcome home," he said softly, still not moving.

Steve nodded absently and trudged over to the chair on the other side of the room, falling into it hard enough to make it slide back a few inches. Pinning James with a flat stare, he waved a limp hand. "Let's talk."

-

Hours passed with apologies, raised voices, more tears, more anger, more sadness...until promises were made, forgiveness was granted, and gratitude was given.

Sleep was a long time coming, both men feeling too much like open wounds to hold each other close, but to afraid of the empty night to be too far apart.

But they did eventually drift off, and when they awoke they were wrapped as tightly as ever in each other's arms.

They were gonna be okay.

[astorytotellyourfriends]

enemies to lovers + Luke/Bobby *heavy breathing*

brought to you by the third to last photo in taylor kare's latest instagram post and also miss you like hell by nightly (thank u @where-you-go for always indulging me with perfect lukebobby songs)

-x-

Luke doesn't even know what he's doing here. If Alex or Reggie knew what he was doing, they'd be so pissed. They'd tell him he should know better, that he's only going to make things worse; as if Luke doesn't know that already.

He's not acting in his own best interest or with any sort of common sense. He's never had any common sense when it comes to Bobby so honestly, nobody should expect anything different.

It's his own stupid fault that he even found out about Bobby's show in the first place. If Luke would just block Bobby on Instagram then this never would've happened. Deep down, he knows that even if he did block Bobby, he'd still torture himself every once in a while by looking up Bobby's account anyway.

But maybe it's not just his fault. Maybe it's Bobby's fault too, at least partially, for posting more now than he ever did before. A year ago, Bobby's Instagram was practically bare. Now it's like he's selling himself, his brand, and it's all a fucking lie.

Luke just wishes the lie didn't look so fucking good. Maybe he wouldn't be so mad. Maybe he wouldn't have bought an impulse ticket to Bobby's show tonight and maybe he wouldn't be skulking around in the back of the club, waiting for Bobby to take the stage.

Maybe Luke would be at home doing something productive with his time, like fueling his anger at Bobby into a song or two. Maybe a whole album. Maybe Alex and Reggie wouldn't notice.

The lights in the club go dim and the crowd starts cheering, which does absolutely nothing to settle Luke's churning stomach. He told himself that he'd stay as far away from the stage as possible. He doesn't want Bobby to know he's here; he doesn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he still gets under his skin.

Bobby's not allowed to know things about him anymore.

Luke hates that the first thought that comes to mind when Bobby takes the stage is fuck, he looks good. He shakes his head, tearing his eyes away from the stage as he resists the urge to get closer. The set hasn't even started yet and he's already losing his goddamn nerve.

He manages to stay still through the set, not even lifting his hands to clap when songs end. Everyone else around him cheers, clearly enjoying Bobby's music and the show he's putting on, but Luke just glares daggers at him from the back of the club.

"Thanks," Bobby says, huffing a laugh into the microphone. Luke bristles at the sound of it, hating the way the sound of it tugs at his chest. "I've got one more and, uhh, I have a new song that I was thinking of playing…"

The crowd voices their interest with a number of cheers and Luke feels a lump form in his throat. Bobby glances around as he wraps his hand around the microphone stand, and for a moment Luke thinks that maybe he's spotted him. His heart skips a beat and he feels the urge to run, but then Bobby speaks again.

"It's, umm," he swallows hard, "it's about someone I… someone I lost. It's called Miss You Like Hell."

As soon as the song starts, Luke's seething. It would be so much easier to feel good about hating Bobby if he was a shitty musician on top of everything else.

Drove by your old apartment

Looking for a way to start it over again

Cuz you’ve been stuck in my head

Luke doesn't want to like this song. He wants to hate it, he wants to hate Bobby with every fibre of his being. He does hate Bobby, that's not going to change. He had his chance to apologize and he didn't take it.

Tried to open up about it

Called a friend to clear my conscience

They said there’s nothing, nothing

It feels like the walls are closing in on Luke. The crowd seems to disappear around him; it's only him and Bobby in the room.

I miss you like hell

I don’t know what to do about it

Bobby doesn't even know he's here. There's no way he knows. Luke is being so careful, he's kept to the shadows, he doesn't want Bobby to know he's here. He feels the urge to leave, but it's coupled with the desperate desire to rush the stage and force Bobby to say these things to his face.

There's no way this song isn't about him and Luke knows it, but he wants to hear it from Bobby himself.

Before the song ends, Luke finds his feet moving forward of their own accord. He dodges people left and right, maneuvering through the crowd until he's barely two feet from the stage.

He's staring Bobby down the entire time, which means he sees it the exact moment that Bobby notices him. It's like he's seen a ghost.

Bobby stammers through his goodbye, forcing a smile when he thanks the crowd, but it's obvious he's rattled. Good, Luke thinks to himself. He keeps staring Bobby down even as Bobby exits the stage, throwing one last look over his shoulder at Luke before he disappears backstage.

Luke practically runs through the club to get out as fast as he can, not caring one bit about anyone he knocks into in his rush. As soon as he makes it out the front, he hightails it into the alley beside the club in search of the stage door.

He doesn't have a plan. His mind is blank apart from a constant loop of Bobby. He can't let him get away. He needs Bobby to explain himself, even if he has to force it out of him.

The stage door swings open just before Luke reaches it, causing him to stumble to a stop. When Bobby appears through it a moment later, Luke honestly thinks that he's hallucinating at first. There's no way it's going to be this easy.

"What are you doing here?" Bobby asks, his voice hoarse and breathless.

"I…" Luke starts, finding it hard to breathe. He hadn't realized how out of breath he was until this moment, and he curses himself for it. He doesn't want to show any weakness right now. "I just--"

"I didn't--" Bobby falters, turning away from Luke like he can't hold himself together if he's looking at him. "You weren't supposed to be here."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Luke snaps.

"What are you doing here?" Bobby asks again, sounding stronger this time. Far more angry than before.

"It's a free country," Luke says as he crosses his arms. He keeps staring at Bobby and slowly starts to feel his resolve crack. "I bought a ticket at the door," he adds lamely.

Bobby mimics Luke, wrapping his arms around himself, and huffs. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you here?" Bobby shouts.

"I don't know!" Luke shouts back. "Why did you write that song?"

"No, you--" Bobby groans loudly. "You don't get to ask me that."

"Why not?"

"Because you don't get to dictate what I write songs about!"

"I do when they're clearly about me!" Luke yells. "What the fuck, Bobby?!"

"You weren't supposed to hear it!"

"Too fucking late!"

"I didn't know you were--" Bobby groans again. "If I'd known you-- I wouldn't--"

Luke scoffs. "What, you'd go back to pretending you never gave a shit about me?"

"That's not--"

"You don't get to play the victim, Bobby," Luke says as he approaches Bobby. "You're the one who left."

"Don't you think I know that?" Bobby answers angrily as he moves closer to Luke. "It's all my fault. I fucking know it, okay?"

Luke laughs bitterly. "Is this you taking responsibility?"

"Fuck you."

"Fuck you!" Luke gives Bobby a hard shove, but Bobby gets right back in Luke's face.

"Don't fucking push me," he growls.

"Or what?"

They're so close together that when Bobby breathes out, Luke feels his breath. His heartbeat is pounding in his ears as they stare each other down, anger radiating off of both of them. He hasn't been this close to Bobby in months and it reminds Luke of so many things all at once, but he fights to hang onto his anger.

In the end, it's Bobby who breaks first. He crashes his mouth against Luke's as he throws his arms around him, tangling one hand in Luke's hair with a grip so tight it hurts.

Luke whimpers into Bobby's mouth but latches on in an instant, kissing him hard as he digs his fingers into Bobby's back deep enough to leave bruises.

Even if nothing else about their former relationship worked, this was always something they could agree on.

filled prompts

[farfromsugafanfic]

Sutures - Chapter Four: Urge

Genre: Soulmates AU, Idiots to Lovers, slight Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Yoongi/Named Reader

Warnings (chapter specific): mentions of hickeys, Sumi’s ex is a dick, making out, heavy petting, smut lead up, smut themes

Synopsis: “A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it.” –Jean de la Fontaine

There was only one thing you and Min Yoongi had in common that night. You were both brokenhearted. You only intended to be together for one night, but when you both end up in the hospital the next day you discover that you are soulmates. It could kill you to be apart. As you and Yoongi attempt to sever the bond between you, will another be formed?

Notes: This was originally written and completed on Wattpad between 2018 and the beginning of 2020. I’ll be slowly posting the chapters here. I may make a tag list depending on if enough people want to follow along with updates. Leave me some feedback if you would like added to a tag list.

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You hugged Kitty to your chest and made your way to the kitchen. You heard the rustling of pots and pans and Jimin's laughter. Even though you'd only known Jimin for under two days, his laughter quickly become one of your favorite sounds, something that never made you smile. However, most of the time you weren't horrendously hungover. 

"Morning," you said, trying to muster a small smile, even though your head was pounding. 

Three of the seven boys who lived in the dorm turned to look at you. Yoongi was already sat at the table, scrolling through his phone, a bowl of fruit in front of him. Hoseok was in the kitchen and Jimin sat on the opposite end of the table from Yoongi, his legs swinging freely. You smiled at how close the boys were and how comfortable they were with each other. It made you feel even worse for intruding in on the bond. 

"Good morning," the boys said, nearly in unison. 

"Jimin," you said. "Did you put Kitty in the box to come here?"

Jimin shook his head, glancing down to the stuffed cat you held in your arms. 

"No, I put him in the donation pile as you wanted." 

"Huh," you said, holding Kitty out in front of you and smiling at her fondly. "Well, I'm glad she found her way here anyway." 

Jimin smiled at you, his eyes some mixture of happiness for you and worry. 

"Did we get internet back?"

The boys exchanged glances and nodded. 

You looked over to Yoongi, who was now looking up from his phone. His dark eyes were boring straight into you, and you suspected he already knew what you were going to ask. 

"Did you find out who got the shoes?"

The room fell silent, except for the tap which Hoseok accidentally left on as he had looked up at you. You didn't know who it could possibly be that would elicit such a response, but Yoongi's face softened as he stood. 

"Park Minki."

You blinked in disbelief, wondering if the hangover had somehow messed with your hearing. Yoongi's eyes were softer, the softest they had been in the seventy two hours you'd known him.

"My ex?" you choked out. 

Yoongi nodded.

---

You took a deep breath as you stood in front of the full length mirror and strategically placed the scarf around your neck. The bruises weren't as prominent as the day before, but you feared Minki would still notice them. The rest of your outfit was quite simple, a pair of jeans and a nice top. You wore your hair down, hoping it too would help hide Yoongi's marks on your neck. 

When you'd broken up with Minki, you'd thought you'd never have to see the boy again. While you still loved him, you knew seeing him again would hurt you, but you wanted to handle this yourself. For whatever reason bought the shoes, you knew it couldn't be settled with money. He wanted to see you again, wanted you to see him again. 

While you normally would just forget the shoes, Yoongi's reputation was on the line. And yours for that matter. You may not be an idol, but the fact you were connected to one, could be enough to destroy you.

"Do you really want to look that good for your ex?" Yoongi said, entering your bedroom with a soft knock on your open door. He was dressed wearing just a simple sweatshirt and jeans, a snapback covering his dyed hair and a mask pulled down under his chin. 

"What? Jealous?" you smirked, giving up on arranging the scarf and turning to face him. 

"No," he said. "I just thought you didn't care what he thought anymore." He walked closer to you, the faint smell of his cologne tickling your nose. His fingers reached up and moved the scarf so it that it covered the half of a hickey that was still partially visible. "Obviously, you do."

He stepped away from you the scent of him still lingering in his place. You were almost disappointed when he stepped away, wishing you could fall asleep in his scent.

"I'm sorry you have to come," you said. "And miss out on work."

"I can work when we get back," he said. "Besides, it would be a whole lot worse for both of us if I didn't come." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a mask. "Wear this, if we run into any paparazzi it will be harder for them to identify you."

You nodded, looping the mask around your ears and pulling it up over your mouth. Yoongi pulled his up and nodded to you, asking if you were ready. 

You nodded in affirmation, but you felt the butterflies in your stomach. You didn't think you would ever be ready.

---

You entered the cafe first. You spotted Minki almost immediately, he was seated at a table near the middle, you could see the shoes placed on the table. You already felt a twinge of embarrassment, knowing he'd displayed them so publicly.

You pulled down the mask and sat down across from him. His mouth widened into a smirk when you sat down, something you used to love about him, but now it just felt like he was mocking you.

"You look nice," he said.

"Thanks," you said, trying not to meet his gaze.

You noticed Yoongi walk past you and sit at a table behind Minki's view, but facing you. You met his eyes momentarily but didn't want Minki to see your wandering gaze. Minki had a temper occasionally, and while he had never hurt you, you feared he wouldn't hesitate to hurt Yoongi. And even though you and Yoongi weren't exactly friends, you still didn't want him to get hurt because of you.     

"So, why'd you leave the shoes at the bar?" Minki asked. 

"Does that really matter, Minki? They're mine, I just want them back."

"You fucked him? Didn't you?" 

You clenched your fists and looked at the black pumps sitting on the table. You sighed and tried to collect your thoughts. 

"How'd you know they were mine?"

"You don't think I wouldn't recognize the shoes I bought you for your birthday last year?" The smirk was on his face again, like a mosquito that you wanted to kill, but that was just out of your reach. "I picked them out especially for you, remember?"

You did remember. How he told you that he went to multiple shoes, trying to find the perfect shoes. Settling on a pair of black pumps. "Simple, like you," he'd said when he gave them to you. 

"Now that we've broken up, they're mine now? Since I paid for them?"

You wanted to bang your fists down on the table and scream at him until he was as scared of you as you were of him. You wanted to swat the smirk from his face. You wanted to point out all the things you'd bought him. All the baseball game tickets. The T-shirt he wore. Half the down payment on his car. 

"I don't care," you said. "Do whatever you want with them. I just want to leave."

Minki softened then. He'd seen you break down multiple times before, he knew the signs. The way you hid your face. The way you tried to curl yourself into a ball, no matter where you were.

"He's here, isn't here?" your ex asked. "You're not mine to protect anymore." His hand cupped the fabric of your knee. You felt shivers run down your spine as tears pricked at your eyes.

You noticed his eyes wandering down to your neck and where the scarf had moved aside. There was no sense in trying to deny what the scarf revealed.

"Huh," he said. "You never let me do that." 

"I never was yours to protect," you said, your eyes red and tear stained, trying to ignore his last comment. You reached down and moved his hand from your knee. You felt his palm beneath your fingertips and the sensation ran through your body. You felt his hands on you again, your body grew warm, but not in the pleasant way. You needed to get out. Without any more thought, you grabbed your things and ran from the cafe.

---

Yoongi's body stiffened as he watched Minki's hand grab your knee. He wanted to push Minki away from you, shield you from ever having to feel the other boy's touch again. He saw the way your cheek's flushed, although not in the cute way. He saw as you tried to shift away, he could feel your discomfort. 

Your scarf had slipped slightly, revealing part of one of the bruises. Yoongi knew the other boy saw based on the way he shifted forward.

"Huh, you never let me do that," the other boy said. 

Yoongi's jaw stiffened. Part of him wanted to rip him apart for bringing attention to something that you obviously hadn't wanted Minki to see, but there was a small buzzing inside of him. One night and you allowed him to do something you'd never allowed your previous boyfriend to do for years. He repressed the pride as you tearfully ran out the door. 

Yoongi waited a moment to get up and follow you, not wanting to draw too much attention. He made eye contact with Minki as he walked past, pulling down his mask momentarily, but pulling it back up as he walked through the door of the cafe. 

---

You curled yourself into the car seat, pulling your legs into your stomach and hiding your face against the car door. You put on your seatbelt, knowing Yoongi would follow you out. 

Yoongi opened the car door a minute or so later, greeting the driver as he did so and telling him to take both of you back to the dorm. He pulled down his mask and put on his seatbelt. 

"Why do you let him talk to you like that?" Yoongi asked. 

You scoffed, trying to hide your tears. The last thing you wanted was Yoongi to see your tears, you felt like if you allowed yourself to cry in front of him, it would somehow strengthen the bond. Yoongi was so strong and allowing him to see your weakness terrified you.

"He's my ex for a reason, okay?" 

"Well, we still need to get the shoes back somehow. You sure money won't work with him?"

"He just wants to humiliate me," you said, choking slightly on the words. "Do we really need to get them back? I mean, they're just shoes. How much harm could really be done?"

Yoongi's eyes widened and his form stiffened. 

"You really don't realize, do you?" He looked out the window in slight disbelief before turning back to you. "I guess, this explains how you didn't recognize me."

"Yoongi..."

"Even just the rumors of what happened between us could destroy both of us," he said. "My fans need someone they can trust and look up to. Most of them don't even know I'm not with Jihee anymore. They know about the soulmate thing, but we only used that to find you. We're going to deny it later, anyway." 

"You didn't have to sleep with me then," you said. "If you would've just pushed me off your lap, none of this would've happened."

"If you wouldn't have fallen in my lap, none of this would've happened." 

You sighed, silence ensuing. The road noise the only sound. Even the driver was silent from behind the partition. 

"Sumi..." Yoongi said, his hand suddenly coming to rest just above your knee. His fingertips digging into the fabric of your jeans. His touch was warm, but instead of overheating as you did with Minki's touch, your temperature matched his. 

"What?" you asked, but your question was soon answered as you felt heat rise in your stomach. Suddenly, Yoongi appeared less like the image obsessed jerk of a few minutes ago and looked more like the man you met at the bar three days ago. 

You unhooked your seatbelt and straddled Yoongi's lap, your hands coming up to cup his cheeks as his ran up to play with your hair. Your lips connected and nearly immediately his tongue slipped between yours. 

Yoongi's hat--which you hadn't paid much attention to before--suddenly was in your way. You ripped it off, exposing his messy hair. It was obvious he hadn't styled it before putting on the snapback, but you liked it better that way, it allowed your fingers to tangle in his hair. 

"The windows?" you asked, falling back onto the seat as Yoongi unhooked his seatbelt and hovered over you.

"They're tinted," he said, grabbing hold of your scarf and pulled it over your head. It landed somewhere on the floor of the car, out of sight. "Don't worry, no one will see." 

He leaned down and latched onto your lips once again. His hands wandering under the hem of your shirt, causing it to ride up slightly. You splayed your fingers against his firm chest, causing him to stop momentarily. 

"What?" he asked. 

"I think...I think this is what the doctor was talking about..." you said. "I think we need to stop." 

Despite your words, your hands slipped underneath his sweatshirt, feeling the warm skin beneath. You wanted to feel that skin against you, but before you could pull it over his head, he surprised you, by pulling up your shirt, exposing your stomach. 

"I'll do it lower this time," he said, his voice raspy and lower than normal. "So you don't have to worry about hiding them." His lips latched onto the skin of your stomach, causing you to release a small moan as you ran your fingers from his hairline and down to the nape of his neck. 

"Yoongi..."

"Why'd you have to wear that perfume for him? It drives me crazy." 

He curved his two index fingers into the belt loop of your jeans and tugged slightly, not to pull them down, but rather to tease you. 

"You're for my eyes only."

"Yoongi," you said. "We need to stop." 

Yoongi pulled away, a sheepish look crossing his face. He pulled down your shirt and sat back in the seat. 

You, too, sat back up, trying to catch your breath. Your heart was racing, partially from the thoughts of the feel of his lips, but you were scared. You felt so out of control, something had taken you over entirely. It wasn't a secret that you were attracted to Yoongi, you did willingly sleep with him, but the urges pulled you together, even when you least wanted it. 

"That was...that was...weird..." 

Yoongi nodded in agreement, reaching down and retrieving your scarf. You did the same with his hat and you exchanged the items. 

You watched out the window as the car pulled into the driveway of the dorm. You glanced back over at Yoongi, noticing a bit of your lipstick managed to cling to his bottom lip. You chuckled slightly before reaching over and using your thumb to wipe it from his lip. 

He watched you, not making any movement to stop you, but your gaze shifted downward, not able to meet his eyes. 

"Lipstick," you said. 

The driver opened the door and the two of you walked back into the dorm.

---

Jihee (9:02 am): Good morning handsome :)

Jihee (11:15 am): I heard about the shoe business. You always use to complain about having to take off mine.

Jihee (11:17 am): You should tell her to be more careful though. :)

Jihee (1:20 pm): Babe...please just respond to me...

Jihee (1:21 pm): You're making me seem desperate.

Jihee (4:45 pm): Her picture's out there now, you know? Some guy saying she cheated with you.

Jihee (5:00 pm): She doesn't look like the type to cheat.

Jihee (6:34 pm): The more I think about it...the less she seems like your type. Especially for a rebound.

Jihee (7:00 pm): You could do much better if you wanted to Oppa. She's kind of pretty and all, but don't you think she's a little simple?

Yoongi (7:02 pm): Whatever this is, is between us. Leave her out of it. 

[jjmaybanksbaby]

enamel pins, school dances and summer movie nights

or: alternatively, i hate everybody but you

pairing: kiara carrera x rafe cameron (platonic)

warning: cursing, underage drinking, some fighting, rafe cameron being sappy because that deserves a tw of its own

word count: 7.2k words

MASTERLIST

"I’m so glad that they’re still doing this. Keep calm. Carry on," Kiara said to the boys as she stuffed the change from their tickets back into her wallet.

It would have been an understatement to say that JJ and Pope hadn’t been eager to attend the outdoor movie night hosted by the Island Club. In fact, they'd spend thirty minutes listing all the things they would rather do when Kiara proposed the idea. She'd let them grumble about going for the better part of an hour since she knew there was no way the pogues would let her go to something on Figure Eight alone. Pogues always had each other's backs, always. Kiara figured the least she could do was pay their entry fee. Plus, she knew JJ and Pope didn't exactly have extra cash laying around for movie nights.

She would have dragged all three of the boys with her but John B hadn't been back to the chateau all day. Since the cell towers were still down thanks to the hurricane, she could only guess where he was.

"Welcome to the summer movie series. All proceeds go to...." The announcer's voice boomed over the loudspeakers as Kiara lead the boys to an empty space in the middle of the crowd.

"Back to OBX life. You know? Aren’t you guys glad that I made you come?" She really didn't have to ask, she was already sure of their answer.

"Ecstatic," Pope responded, his tone clearly lacking enthusiasm.

"My couch was pretty comfy, I’ll be honest," JJ echoed.

"We’re out of the green zone, man," Pope leaned over, commenting to JJ, out of earshot of Kiara. She didn't know about Topper's boat and Pope wasn't really interesting in bringing her in as another accessory to the crime.

"Dude, tranquilo, okay?" JJ whispered back.

"We're in the middle of Kooklandia. This is the last place I wanted to be."

"Shut up, Pope," JJ snapped, his wide eyes with warning. This was Kiara's thing, they weren't gonna let the Shakespearesque fued between Kooks and Pogues ruin her fun.

-

"Hey, uh…can I get two Pepsis, pleases?" Kiara asked the employee currently manning the snack bar.

"Sure," he replied.

Kiara slide the money for the sodas across the counter and took the cold drinks, watching Rafe slowly approaching from out of the corner of her eye.

"Hey, Kie," Rafe said. Kie felt her pulse spike at a nickname he'd originally given her. "Hey, what’s up? How are you?"

"I’m fine," she replied, intentionally angling her body away from him, her gaze resting anywhere but on him. For someone whose presence she uses to be able to relax in, now the sight of Rafe put her on edge.

"Good, good. Um...Tell your boy that we know what he did." Rafe held her stare and Kiara couldn't stop her lip from curling up in contempt.

"Sorry, what boy are you talking about?"

"Uh, he’ll know." Rafe smiled as if this conversation was bringing him some wicked sense of pleasure.

Rafe opened his mouth as to say something else but Kiara turned away from him. "Bye," he called to her as she walked away.

"Douche," Kiara said, loud enough that she was sure he would still hear her. She threw a glance over her shoulder, feeling Rafe's eyes still watching her.

-

Kiara handed Pope a Pepsi. "Just saw Rafe, and he said, and I quote, 'Tell your boy that we know what he did.' What is that?" She finished, handing JJ the second soda.

"Um...Where is he?" JJ asked back.

"Right there." Pope and JJ's heads turned around to look with her.

"Great the whole death squad," Pope said.

JJ grabbed the top of Pope's head, knocking his snapback off as he forced it forward. "Don’t stare, bro," JJ paused. "Just warning you, bro. If they corner me, I’m coming out swinging, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," Pope agreed.

"Slice and dicin’. I’m on edge right now, okay? If that doesn’t work, I got this right here." JJ held up his worn backpack.

Fucking hell, Kiara thought. He brought the gun.

"Yeah, yeah. So, we just gotta stay in the group. They can’t come get us if we’re in the group," Pope remarked.

"Like a school of fish.”

"Stay in the school. Can’t leave the school. Stay in school," Pope repeated to himself.

"I’m sorry JJ…" Kiara interrupted. "Please tell me that you did not bring a gun here. JJ, there are kids."

"No Kie! I didn’t bring the gun. Everything’s fine, okay?" JJ assured, his frantic tone betraying him.

"Oh wow, thank you. That’s really convincing. I love that JJ." Kiara looked from JJ to Pope, trying to assess what kind of trouble they’d caused now. "Founding principle, you guys. No secrets amongst Pogues. What is Rafe talking about?"

Pope leaned it, bringing his face closer to Kiara's. "Kie, it might go down tonight."

"What does that mean?" Their vagueness was making Kiara extra suspicious. "'Might go down tonight.' What did y’all do?"

The boys look at each other, neither of supplying any answers to Kiara's questioning.

"Deny, deny, deny," JJ said quietly to Pope under his breath.

The opening score of The Addams Family cracked through the weathered speakers forcing an end to the conversation. A memory popped into Kiara’s head before she had time to stop it. This was Sarah Cameron’s favorite movie. Sarah used to mouth the lines along with the actors every time they watched it together.

There were a lot of glamorous parts of being best friends with the Kook-queen Sarah Cameron. When they walked down the shiny hallways of the Kook Academy literally arm-in-arm peoples' heads turned and watched them go by. All the mean girls with their once snarky remarks were suddenly complimenting Kiara's "unique style," begging her to tell them where she bought her clothes. (In truth, most of it was actaully thrifted since that was much more eco-friendly.) Plus there was the way Sarah swiped her Daddy's black card without a second thought. Kiara’s family lived on Figure Eight, they were a part of the Island Club but they would never have the kind of east coast old money the Cameron's had.

It wasn’t something Kiara usually minded. The whole money thing. Kiara never saw herself as less than because she didn’t wear a watch that cost as much as college tuition on her wrist. But it was more than that: Kiara never really saw herself as much of a Kook to begin. She didn’t want that lifestyle. She never had. It was her parents who pushed it on her. Her mom had grown up under the crystal chandeliers and ever-watchful eyes. She’d debuted into Outer Banks high society at the age of seventeen like every Kook at that age still did. An action which Kiara scoffed at. Her mom was fully prepared to be another success story of the ring-before-spring pipeline, returning to the Outer Banks after four years of college with an MRS degree and a husband who would be balding by his early forties.

But in a Hollywood-worthy meet-cute that involved one drunk sorority girl and her vodka-induced need for pancakes, Mike Carrera stumbled into Anna's life.

Mike Carrera was the opposite of Anna in every way that counted. His whole life had been hard work and grit, fighting for the things that were rightfully his and taking them when people still refused to hand them over. He had a pipe dream of owning his own restaurant, a borderline fantasy that he was dead-set on making sure came true. Anna loved him and he loved her right back. They eloped to Vegas the week after graduation even though own Anna’s mother was halfway through planning the wedding. They bought cheap rings and a second-hand dress since they were still living paycheck to paycheck. Though the bright lights of Vegas had made the impromptu wedding seem a bit more glamorous than it really was, they both knew deep down their love was the real thing. They promised each other till death do us part and meant it.

When Anna found out she was pregnant, she talked Mike into going back to the Outer Bank. Anna swore up and down the move was only so her parents could help with the baby. They'd live on the cut, work for what they deserved and be happy. Then Anna's parents bought them a house on Figure Eight as a wedding gift and Sunday dinners at the Island club became protocol. Anna slipped back into her life as a Kook and brought Mike with her. When the restaurant turned into the tourist hot spot, the zeros in their bank accounts started growing. The Carrera's got rich but their money could never compete with the trust-fond generational wealth of their fellow Kooks.

The Outer Banks only had one elementary school. All the kids on the island were thrown together at an age where no one yet realized the lines between the haves and have nots. Fifth grade was when it got messy. Every fall the class size heading to the Kildare County Middle School dropped by half when all the Kooks transferred to St. Andrews “Kook” Academy. A breeding ground for Ivy-league-bound eighteen-year-olds who lived with the cushions of their parents' bank accounts.

Kiara begged her parents not to make her go to the Kook Academy. She would have rather died than leave her best friends, Bea and Joey, who were both Pogues and staying at KDMS. She didn't realize that middle school would rip the three of them apart. By eighth grade, Kiara had her new friends. Pope Heyward, John B. and JJ Maybank, but he still went by Junior back then. Even if they were bothered by Kiara's status as half-Kook, in the same way Bea and Joey had been, they never showed it.

Mike and Anna didn't see the need to send Kiara to St. Andrews if she didn't want to go but as high school inched closed with every year, the whispers about the Kook in public school grew louder. The summer before freshman year, her parents offered her a deal - though it was hardly a fair one in Kiara's mind. She could either stay at Kildare County High School but she'd have to work in the restaurant in her free time or she could go to St. Andrews with complete freedom for a year. Kiara knew her parents wanted her to transfer so she caved and agreed to a year at St. Andrews to make them happy. Anna prayed her daughter would find her people at St. Andrews and that one year would turn into four but Kiara knew she had already found her people and was counting down the days till she could go back to them. It was only when Sarah Cameron decided the new girl might be cool that Kiara stopped marking each passing day with a big red x.

-

There was less than a week left in their Christmas break and Kiara was seated across from Sarah at the Cameron's dining room table bent over her practice problems for Mr. Harrings' freshman science. He infamously gave out the hardest pop quiz of the year the first day back after break and Kiara's grade couldn't take her failing it.

"What’s avocado’s number?” Sarah asked, looking up from her paper, her pen frozen in midair.

“What’s what?” said Kiara, thoroughly confused at Sarah’s question.

“You know,” Sarah paused, scanning Kiara’s face for any sign of understanding. “Avogadro’s number. Some kid in my class thought the dude’s name was avocado so we’ve been calling it avocado’s number since.”

“Ah, Avogadro’s number,” Kiara repeated, shifting her papers around until she found the one with all the formulas and constants written on it. “Six point zero two two one four zero seven six times ten to the twenty-second power.”

Sarah punched the numbers into her calculator. “Thanks, babes.”

“Of course.”

Rafe’s heavy footsteps carried through the Cameron’s massive house announcing his arrival home. He strolled into the room, a thick stack of papers in one hand and a garment bag draped over the opposite arm.

“Hey loser,” Sarah said, not inspired enough by her brother's presence to look up from her work.

“Hi Rafe,” Kiara echoed. "Where you been?"

"Being Ward's errand boy. I forgot the key to his office where I was supposed to drop off this contract so he's gonna kill me for that. But," Rafe paused digging into his pocket and pulling out a small velvet pouch. "Merry late Christmas," he finished, handing the bag to Kie. "I saw it and I thought you'd like it."

Kiara reached into the pouch pulling out a small enamel pin of the earth, shaped into a heart with the word "love" in silver written over it. Kie smoothed her thumb over the cold metal.

"You know since you're gonna save the planet and everything," Rafe added.

"Thank you. I love it!" Kiara jumped up from her chair, throwing her arms around his waist wrapping him a hug.

"No problem, Kie." Rafe said.

"Hey, I'm trying to save our planet too." Sarah pipped up.

"Shut up, Sarah," Rafe cracked. "I gave you your Christmas present last week."

Sarah stuck her tongue out at him, Rafe doing the same in return.

"What are you guys working on?" Rafe asked.

"Science," Kiara replied, reaching down to grab her backpack from underneath the table.

"Is that for Mr. Harrings' class?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it is," Kie said, half distracting by trying to decide which spot to put her new pin in.

"I think I might still have my old test from that class if you want them.”

Sarah's head snapped up at the offer. "No way."

"Sound any more surprised, Sarah. I was offering them to Kiara anyway, snob," Rafe shot back.

"I'll share," Kie assured her best friend.

Kiara followed Rafe up the grand staircase, flopping on Rafe's bed while he searched for his old work.

"Henry Spiegel was talking about taking you to a he formal in the locker room before we left for break," Rade relied from inside his closet.

"Isn't he the freshman who made varsity lacrosse?" Kiara asked back. She contemplated the idea of going to St. Andrews' Winter Formal with him. Henry was nice enough, plus he was pretty good-looking. She could stand going with him.

"I told him if I found out he'd asked you, I'd make sure he missed the next three games because of a black eye."

"Rafe."

"What? Do you really think I'm gonna let some dweeb with half a brain who only wants to get in your pants take my little sisters to formal?"

"Who am I supposed to take?” She shot back.

“I don’t know. Not him,” Rafe said, emerging, a small stack of papers in hand.

“You know Denny asked Sarah last week.”

“I know.”

Kiara paused, “You will you take?”

Rafe shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Maybe Ashely M. Seniors don’t really go to the actual dance.”

Kie took the pages of old test for Rafe’s outstretched arm and riffled through them. His name was scribbled on the top of each one in his messy handwriting.

Her eyes drifted up to the Duke basketball poster in the corner of Rafe’s room.

“When do you hear from them?” Kie asked.

“March,” said Rafe, his voice void of emotion.

“I know you’ll get in.”

"My dad'll make sure of it.” Rafe sat down on the bed next to Kiara.

“You don’t know that.”

“I found a card addressed to Ward from the Dean of Student last week thanking him for 'the generous donation from such a valued alumni.'”

Kie's head dropped to rest on Rafe’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well he’s a dick.” Rafe’s phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket, reading the text on the screen. “I gotta go. I told the boys we’d go hit at the Club tonight.”

“Thanks again for these.” Kie held up the papers. “And for the pin," she added.

“Mr. Harrings always includes the names of the scientists from the unit as bonus questions. Don’t forget to look those up,” Rafe said as he stood up from the bed. "See you around, Kie." He placed a small protective kiss on her forehead before he headed back downstairs.

-

"JJ?" Pope slapped JJ's shin to get his attention.

"What?" JJ whispered back over the sounds of the movie.

"I gotta take a piss.”

"Hold it."

"I can’t hold it. I drank too much soda."

"It’s too exposed. They’ll totally see us."

"I gotta go," Pope pleaded. He peered behind him to see Rafe, Topper, and Kelce still parked in the same spots at the back of the crowd. "They’re blocking the bathrooms," Pope added.

JJ looked around, thinking up a Plan B. "Alright. Come here. I know where.”

"Hey, where y’all going?" Kiara asked, turning her attention away from the movie.

"We gotta wring it out," JJ responded deadpan.

"What? You gonna hold it for each other," Kiara questioned, disgusted at the thought.

JJ shrugged off the comment and lead Pope through the crowd, the two of them ducking behind a large oak tree.

Kiara turned back to the movie playing on the giant screen, leaving the boys to their own devices. Besides, they wouldn't dare start something with all the people around. They were idiots but they knew better than that.

"Crap," Kiara cursed under her breath when Rafe trailed by Topper and Kelce brushed by her, heading in the same direction Pope and JJ had went. She watched their figures disappear behind the screen before she jumped up from her seat.

JJ's gun, the thought flew her mind.

She picked up his backpack with no intention to use it but better safe than sorry. Especially when it came to those Kooks in particular.

"Hey, kick his ass, Top!" Kiara heard Rafe yell as she rounded the corner.

Kiara felt a full-fledged panic run through her body as she took in the sight. Kelce had pinned JJ's arm behind his back and was Rafe pounded his fist into JJ’s face. A foot away, Pope was barely holding off Topper. Whatever Pope and JJ had done had obviously crossed a line.

Kiara ran in without another thought, swinging JJ's backpack in front of her. "Let go of him, Topper! Fascist asshole!" She screamed at him.

Topper grabbed the bag from her, ripping it out of Kiara's hand and throwing it aside. Kiara jumped on Topper's back, desperate to distract him.

"Hey listen, Pope," Topper yelled over the sounds of the movie. "All you gotta do is accept a little personal responsibility."

"Screw you, kook," Pope spit back.

Kiara felt arms wrap around her waist, yanking her off of Topper. The too-familiar scents of Rafe's cologne filled her nose and his breath was hot on her cheek.

She kicked her legs struggling against him, "Let go of me, Rafe."

"Stay out of this, Kiara," he warned, tossing her onto the ground. His gaze fixed on her for a second before turning away. Kiara swore she saw a look of guilt flash across Rafe's face, wordlessly apologizing for tossing her away so harshly but she didn’t have time to think about that while her boys were still in trouble.

"Kie! You okay?" Pope yelled, struggling against Topper who had wrapped his arm around Pope's neck.

"Come on, man. Just admit it," Topper shouted. "Admit you did it, bitch!"

JJ's backpack had conveniently landed close to where Kiara lay. She rolled over, pushing herself onto her knees and crawling over to the backpack. She riffled through it, her hand landing on the cold mental of the gun.

"You don't mess with me, Pogue! You hear me?" Topper continued. Kiara looked up at Topper's face which showed no signs of mercy. Meanwhile, Rafe's fist smashed into JJ's face again and again. The situation was getting worse by the second. “I'm gonna give you one chance. One chance, Pope. One chance. Come on! One!"

Kiara dropped the gun back into the backpack pulling out JJ's lighter instead, two Js craved onto the surface. She had to go big to stop Rafe, Topper and Kelce. Kiara crawled over to the edge of the sheet the movie was being projected off. Fuck, this has to work.

"Finish him off, Top!" Rafe directed.

Kie flicked on the lighter, the wind blowing out the flame the first few times. Her hands were shaking as she grabbed the edge of the sheet and held the blue flame up to it. The fire lit up her face as it took hold, spreading faster than she had expected. The crowd yelped, scrambling away as the orange flames climbed toward the sky.

"Guys! Fire!" Rafe yelled, taking in the sight.

"Get off of him!" Kie pushed Topper away from Pope who fell to the ground gasping for air. "Kelce, let go of JJ!"

"Let's get out of here," Rafe started, fleeing the scene. The other Kooks not far behind him.

"You good?" Kiara asked Pope helping him off the ground. "We're okay." She assured. Her heart was racing, her hands still shaking.

"You're a freakin' idiot," Pope responded.

"I saved your ass. Come on." Kiara threw her arm around Pope's shoulder, leading him away.

The sounds of the film continued to echo over the speakers as the sheet burned to ash behind them.

-

Kiara sat slumped against the wall of the St. Andrews hallway that lead into the cafeteria. The frill of her $200 dress fanned out around her. The dress, in her opinion, had been a colossal waste of money but had Sarah actually squealed when Kiara walked out of the fitting room in it. Kiara had tugged at the awkward way the skirt st on her hips but Sarah wouldn’t shut up about how perfectly the blue color fit the Winter Wonderland theme so Kiara bought it. Now, the sequins itching against her collarbone were just annoying her and Kiara couldn’t help scratching at them, making the already red marks on her skin even angrier. She was so fucked. Denny had pulled out a flash during pictures and somehow it kept ending up in Kiara's hands. The whole dance thing had Kiara incredibly anxious so she kept taking sips of the flash to keep her self busy. First during pictures, then during dinner, and in the limo on the way to the school. Now the flask was lying empty on the floor next to her and her nerves were no less settled.

She longed for her pogues so much the pain of missing them made her stomach hurt. Well, that or the alcohol. At that moment, she would have given anything to be back with them. Back with Pope and his overly nervous tendencies, back with John B. and his ideas that usually lead them into trouble, back with JJ and his flirtatious banter that left her blushing a lot more than she cared to admit. They were her family, where she belonged. Not in the gated communities of Figure Eight with mansions so big they had rooms no one entered for weeks. This whole year had been a mistake. She couldn't stand the fakeness of everybody and everything that came as a side effect to bank accounts with the kind of zeros that could seriously help if the 1% gave up being so selfish. Even Sarah's save-the-sea-turtles-with-men façade was fading away revealing another rich kid who didn’t give a shit about who she hurt. 

The doors of the cafeteria swung open, the bass of the DJ's music filling the previously silent hallway. Kiara looked up to find Rafe jogging down the hall to her.

"What are you doing out here?" He asked, sliding down the way to sit next to her.

"The room kept spinning and...uh...I thought I might throw up so I went to find a bathroom," Kiara answered.

"You know the bathrooms are on the other side of the school?"

Kiara giggled which turned into a little burb which made her giggle even more.

"Jesus, Kiara. How drunk are you?" Rafe picked up the flask from the ground. He could smell the alcohol on her breath without even getting closer over. “Who's is this?"

Kiara paused for a moment, trying to remember. "Denny's."

"Sarah's date, Denny?"

Kiara nodded her head.

"Fuck," Rafe muttered. "Okay, let's get you out of here before any of the chaperons see and write you up." He stood up and held out both hands to held Kiara to her feet too.

Kiara pulled herself, leaning against Rafe for stability. The doors swung open again and Rafe's date marched into the hallway.

"Ugh, thank God. There you are. This dance is so lame. C'mon, we're all going to Joey's."

"I'm not coming. I have to take my sister home. She's totally trashed."

The girl's eyes moved over Rafe's face, landing on Kiara. "No," she corrected. "You're my date. You have to come with me."

"Did you not just hear me? I'm taking my sister home," Rafe replied.

"Are you kidding me? She's not even your real sister. She's hardly even a real Kook. I bet she's just using Sarah and you for your family's money. Just look at her dress. It's the same one every other wannabe trying-to-hard freshman has on. Pathetic."

Rafe pulled Kiara closer into him, wrapping an arm around her shoulder protectively. "You can fucking leave," Rafe spit back. "I don't wanna hear you ever talk about my family like that again."

The girl rolled her eyes. "Whatever. I was gonna hook up with Brandan tonight anyway. He's way hotter than you." She spun on her, stalking off in the same direction she had come.

Kiara looked up at Rafe, her bottom lip shaking as tears welled in her eyes. "Are you mad at me?" She asked.

Rafe laughed. "Of course not, Kie. Ashley can go fuck herself. Or she can go fuck Brandan. I don't really care." He wiped away the tear that had slide down Kiara's cheek. "Let's go find Sarah so I can take you both home."

-

Sarah was sitting on her date's lap back inside the cafeteria turned South Pole for the night, laughing loud enough at Denny’s shitty jokes that it was throughly annoying everyone around her.

"Get up Sarah," Rafe commanded.

Sarah surprised at Rafe's sudden presence scrambled off her date's lap. Rafe reached down and grabbed a fistful of Denny's shirt. He cocked his arm back and swung his fist straight into Denny's nose which gave a definitive crack on impact. Sarah let out a gasp and rushed forward.

"What the fuck?" She screamed at Rafe, shoving him off her date.

"You're date's an ass. Kie's completed wasted thanks to him" he said to Sarah. "Let's go. I'm taking you both home."

Sarah glanced at Kiara, who was standing slightly behind Rafe feeling both embarrassed at how much she had drank and grateful for Rafe's protectiveness.

"But I wanna go to the afterparty," Sarah protested. "She has you." Sarah's eyes locked with Kiara and Kiara's heart sank. She could tell her "best friend" wasn't about to give up the rest of her night just because she was nervous and had drunk too much.

Kiara shifted awkwardly on her feet. Sarah could have a least pretended to be conflicted, considered missing the party for a second. God, Kiara missed the unwavering faithfulness of her pogues.

Kiara tugged on Rafe's hand and he glanced over his shoulder at her. "It's fine," she slurred. She really needed out of this itchy disaster of dress as soon as possible.

"You're a really great friend," Rafe said to Sarah.

"Whatever," Sarah replied, her voice almost mimicking the way Rafe's date had said the same words. "Let's go find some ice for your nose, Denny."

-

They had found the gold. It was fifty feet down a well under an ax-murders house no less but they'd fucking found it. John B's crazy plan had worked and all they needed to do was get the gold out, a job which had effectively been delegated to Pope. Of course, first they had to wait for John B to get back from his fishing trip with Ward Cameron, some twisted form of pseudo father-son bonding. What was it with men and finishing? Couldn’t they pick a sport that didn’t actively destroy the environment?

Pope sat atop the kitchen counter, a pencil tucked behind his ear, his mouth moving as he made silent calculations. JJ stood in the doorway of the chateau, dripping water from the hot tub onto the floor. Kiara had thrown off the couch cushions and was rifling through the desk draws, slamming each one with frustration when they didn't hold what she was looking for. Kiara noticed this morning that a pin was missing from her backpack. It didn’t seem like a big deal but with every passing second her panic escalated.

“What are you looking for, bro? I swear this house is like one of those Where’s Waldo? books.” JJ asked Kiara.

“Did you just make a reference to a book, JJ?” Pope chimed in from across the room.

“Just because I chose not to read, doesn’t mean I can’t Pope,” JJ replied.

“Both of you are idiots. It’s a picture book anyway, you don't read it. Can you help me find my pin, please? It's the one I've always had on my backpack. The earth, shaped like a heart," Kie explained.

"Right," Pope replied, sliding off the counter where he was sitting. “Why do you care about it so much anyway?”

“It was a gift."

“From who?”

“From someone at the Kook Academy.”

“Sarah?”

“No.”

“You had other friends there?” JJ mocked.

Kie hesitated. “Fine, it was actually from Rafe as a Christmas present.”

JJ and Pope automatically stopped and looked up at each other.

“Bro, please tell me this isn’t the same Rafe who almost beat Pope’s face in last week."

“It’s not about Rafe. It’s about the pin,” Kie said.

“That’s from Rafe,” Pope finished.

“You guys weren’t there. You don’t get it. Whatever," she huffed. “Don’t help me find it then.”

“No, please Kie. Enlighten us," the sarcasm dripped off JJ's voice.

“I said you don’t have to help,” Kie repeated.

“Hey Kiara,” Pope said, grabbing her wrist. He was always the first to tell when something was off with her.

Kiara shrugged him off, wiping away her tears with her tshirt hem before the other pogues saw them.

“There was just this time,” she started, still overturning books like the pin might have been under there. “At a dance. This senior called me a fake Kook. She said my dress looked tacky like I was trying way too hard to fit but I would never fit in because I’d always be a fucking Pogue. Which of course I don’t wanna be a Kook, I was just playing dress-up for the year to please my parents and it’s like she saw straight through. Rafe was there. Like an older brother. Told her to go fuck herself. That if she ever talked about me like that again, he’d tell the whole she had an std.” Kie paused to wipe her runny nose. “He was basically my family so when Sarah dropped me like I was nothing I was sure that meant Rafe didn’t think I was worth his time anymore too. I never reached out to him again and now he just looks at me the same way he looks at every other Pogue.”

Pope cleared his throat, clearly mildly uncomfortable with Kiara’s sudden expression of emotion. It was an almost unspoken rule among the four of them that they didn’t talk about Kie’s kook year. It had sucked, bottom line. She’d shown back up the summer after ninth grade and it was the four of them again just like middle school. No one had the guts to ask about anything that had happened that year so it never got brought up.

JJ couldn't stop himself from remembering what Rafe had said at Midsummers. Tell Kiara she looks pretty hot for a Pogue. Fucking jackass. If he'd been like a brother to Kie, of course he'd know just how to hit her where it hurt.

JJ clinched his fist, wishing security hadn't pulled him away before he'd gotten a chance to swing at Rafe that night. “I still hate him,” JJ announced. “The entire Cameron family thinks they're the shit because they eat from golden spoons or something."

"The expression is born with a silver spoon in their mouth but JJ's right. All Kook’s suck," Pope added.

-

Rafe had wrestled off Kiara's heels after she almost face-planted in the school parking lot on the way to Rafe's truck thanks to them. He'd gotten up her all the back to the Cameron's house and in the front door successfully without her throwing up. Rafe tried to get Kiara to walk up the stairs but she'd sat down on the bottom declaring she would just sleep there so Rafe had delicately thrown her over his shoulder and didn't put her down until he dropped her on Sarah's bed.

Kiara closed her eye instantly and hummed softly, pleased with the comfortable spot she'd landed.

"No sleeping yet. You gotta drink some water first. Hold on."

Rafe dashed across the hall to his own room and grabbed the bottle of ibuprofen from his bathroom for Kiara in the morning. He also snatched the half-drunk water off his nightstand. It wasn't the best option but it was something.

"Okay, okay. Sit up," he said to Kiara, setting the water and medicine down on the bedside table.

Kiara grumbled but pushed herself upright until her back was against the headboard.

"I'm so happy you're my big bro," she said, reaching out her hand to tousle Rafe's hair. "It's always just been my mom and dad and me. And my turtle, Leo, before I lost him." Kiara felt tears wetting her cheeks again at the thought of her lost pet. "I just thought he might wanna play in the yard but then he ran off." The crying made Kiara hiccup which made her cry even more. "He ran off, Rafe. Turles aren't supposed to be fast.”

Rafe couldn't stop himself from laughing. "I didn't peg you as a sad drunk," he said, putting a hand on Kiara's shoulder to calm her down. "It's okay, Kie. I'm sure Leo is just fine."

Her sniffles stopped momentarily and she looked up at Rafe through her tear-soaked eyelashes. “You know no one ever called me Kie before you did. Now everyone does."

Rafe chuckled. "Alright, drink some water and you can sleep."

Kiara accepted the water bottle and pressed it to her lips, taking a swig. "You promise you're not mad at me? About Ashely and the dance?"

"I promise, Kie. I'd much rather make you sure you're okay."

"You're getting soft, Rafe," Kiara teased as she snuggled herself under the sheets.

"Never," he replied, reaching over and clicking off the lamp on the bedside table before he stood up. "Hollar if you think you're gonna throw up."

"Never," Kie repeated, giggling to herself as Rafe left the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

-

John B's face was plastered on wanted posters up and down the island. The entire county was looking for him, desperate to be the first to claim the twenty-five thousand dollar reward. The wholesome treasure hunt John B. has advertised to the Pogues at the beginning of the summer had gone way south, like equator-level south. None of them had eaten a decent meals in days, much less slept more than few hours. The whole thing was taking its toll but the stacks were too high for them to slip up now. They all knew the odds. John B's word would never stand against Ward's. They had to get him off the island.

JJ and Kiara pulled up the boatyard, the keys to the Phantom clutched so tightly in JJ's palm that they left little indentions. He'd emerged from his house, his jaw set and only held up the keys in response to Kiara asking how it went so she decided not to push him on it.

JJ shoved open the rusty metal door of the garage. "There she be. Hey, girl," he remarked. "1983 formula four-oh-two SR1." JJ pulled the sheet covering the boat off, the sunlight streaming in through the windows making the dust lingering in the air visible. "The Phantom," JJ announced proudly.

"Mmhm," Kie hummed.

"First boat to make the run to Bermuda in under sixteen hours, Kie," JJ paused. "Forty years old! Forty. And it's still the fastest thing that Kildare's ever seen."

"It's kind of a junker."

"Really?" JJ turned to her. "She's right there, Kie. She can hear you. Let's just put it this way. You would not be smokin' weed right now if she never existed, okay?"

"I just hope it runs," Kie replied.

"Oh, no, she'll run alright. She's faster than any of the cutters the boy in blue got."

The sounds of motorcycle engines roared from outside the garage.

"Pope. Finally," Kie exclaimed, jogging to meet him. Hopefully, the Outer Banks sun had burned off any weirdness still lingering from this morning, she prayed.

Rafe appeared from behind the boat and Kiara stopped suddenly, not expecting the sight of him.

"Hey, there. What's goin' on? JJ?" Rafe said and JJ also froze at the sound of the eldest Cameron's voice. "How you guys doin'?”

Barry whistled, announcing his own arrival. "Well, well...." The sounds of a gun cocking send the blood rushing to Kie's ears. JJ raised his hands in the air, backing up as Barry pushed the gun to his chest. "See, don't think I forgot about me and you on the side of the road. I'm here because I want my motheruckin' money."

Barry grabbed the side of JJ's face, shoving him to the ground. "JJ! JJ!" Kie screamed as Rafe pulled her back from the scene. "Rafe!" Kiara struggled against Rafe’s taller and stronger physique.

"That's what I'm here for, ain't it," Barry shouted lifting JJ's head up by his hair.

"It's not you we want, Kie. Alright, Where's John B?" Rafe asked.

"I don't know," she screamed back, her hand slapping Rafe's face on instinct.

"I really wish you didn't do that.”

"Look, I know what you did.” Kie’s voice wavered.

"What? What'd I do?" Rafe's face inched closer to hers.

"You murdered Peterkin."

Rafe's hand flew up to Kiara's throat, wrapping his fingers tight around it. Kiara's mouth fell open in a silent scream as she clawed at his hand. "Don't you ever say those fucking words again," Rafe warned.

"Rafe," Kiara pleaded. Eighteen months later and Kiara could tell Rafe didn’t have a single ounce of warmth left for her. The Rafe that had protected her from handsy freshman boys and made her drink water so her hangover wasn't as bad, the Rafe that had once held a deep sibling-like affection for her was gone, replaced by someone with pure blinding disdain for pogues of any kind.

"Understood? Do you understand? Where's John B? Where's John B?" Rafe asked again, his tone growing impatient

"I don't know," Kie yelled. Rafe’s hand was growing tighter around her throat with every word, forcing tears to her eyes. Fuck this. Rafe Cameron wasn’t about to be the thing that killed her. This rich, white asshole couldn’t get away with two murders.

"Where's John B? Huh?"

"I don't know! I don't know!"

Rafe's hand fell away from her throat suddenly. "Don't touch her," Kiara heard Pope screamed, his voice full of rage as he swung a metal pole into Rafe's back. The look on his face was something Kiara had never seen before from Pope. It sent a chill down her spine.

"Hey!" Barry yelled as he attempted to throw his gun to Rafe but it landed on the ground a few feet short.

"Kie! Kick it!" JJ hollered and the gun disappeared under the boat out of reach.

JJ picked up Barry slamming him into the boat. Pope's fist continued to connect with Rafe’s face. Again and again. Crap, he wasn’t stopping.

"Pope," Kie said. "Okay, Pope. Pope! Pope, that's good! Stop!"

JJ, having thrown Barry aside, moved to pull Pope off Rafe. "Hey, Pope! He's had enough, dude."

"He's good." Kie pleaded as Pope reached for a piece of plastic tubing, pulling it tight around Rafe's neck.

"Snap out of it, man. Snap out of it, dude!" JJ said.

"Pope!" Kie yelled again. "Pope, that's too much!"

"Stop, dude," JJ added. "Dude, cmon! Stop! Stop, dude!"

"Pope! Get off!" Kie desperately tried to make eye contact with him

"Let go! Come on!"

"Look at me!" Kie screamed in one final attempt to stop Pope from going to far. Rafe's face was already turning a concerning shade of red. If Pope crossed this line, Kiara feared there would be no coming back. She already had one fugitive to deal with, she didn’t want another.

Pope dropped the tubing, eyes wide with fear.

"Shit. Oh, shit." JJ said.

Rafe coughed from the floor, blood smeared down his chin.

"Okay, we gotta go. We gotta go." Kiara announced, hustling back the car. They had to get the boat ready for John B. They had to get him off the island. Her Pope-like organizational instincts kicked in protecting her from processing anything that had just happened. Letting her forget the look in Rafe’s eyes as his hand closed around her throat. Three o’clock at the dump. They had to stay on schedule. Three o’clock. Three o’clock. Three o’clock.

-

The single yellow heart Sarah had responded to Kiara's ‘Happy Birthday!’ text with stared back at her mockingly. She closed out of her messages, opening Instagram instead. Story after story showed the party she hadn't been invited to. A shaky video of everyone singing to Sarah, her face lit up by the glow of the candles. A bathroom selfie of all the girls who Kiara had through became her closest friends, their faces flushed red with joy. She clicked the side button of her iphone making the screen going black. Kiara couldn't stand to look at it all happening for another minute. She flopped backward on her bed opting to stare at the plain, white ceilings of her bedroom instead.

She should have been, standing by Sarah's side, smiling along with everyone in a tipsy haze of happiness, not watching it happen via Instagram. Kiara knew she wasn't doing anything productive by throwing herself a pity party but God, she was pissed. She wanted Sarah to know it too. She picked up her phone from where she'd dropped it next to her on the comforter.

The line rang twice before a voice answered the call.

“Kildare County Police, what’s the emergency?”

Kiara hesitated. Sarah was sure to figure out it was her who had ratted on the party and that would be social suicide enough. But Sarah really had brought this on herself. She should have invited to Kie to her fucking birthday.

“Hello? Anyone there?” The operator asked.

Kiara brought the phone back up to her ear. “Hi, I’d like to file a noise complaint, please. Two six six St. Margaret Street.”

“Yes, the Cameron’s house,” Kiara confirmed, wiping at her tear-stained cheeks and steading her voice as she relied the rest of the information to the operator.

Happy birthday to you, Sarah Cameron.

taglist! @surferkie

[happer08]

"Let Me Explain"

I was unbelievably excited for this date. Ian and I had been talking for months, and finally, we had decided it was time to go on an actual date. He finally had a day off in Chicago and was free to meet for dinner. I had spent the whole day making sure I would look perfect and that the date would be good.

It had started to rain on the walk to the restaurant we were meeting at, but there was nothing in the world that could stop how happy I was. I was practically skipping as I rounded the corner through the doorway of the restaurant. Scanning with a smile, I looked around at the bar to the left of the door since that's where Ian told me he'd be.

My smile and my stomach dropped as I saw him talking to a woman. They stood close, much closer than two people that had just met. He was laughing and smiling at her as she was doing the same. He leaned on the bar with his arms crossed as she reached out, putting her hand on his arm. He smiled and blushed, dropping his head looking at her hand.

Tears welled in my eyes as my heart sank. I knew there was no way he wanted to date me. I took a shallow breath, trying to push the tears away as Ian looked up to see me. He froze and pushed her hand away, I turned back toward the door moving toward the exit.

He called my name as I pushed the door back open. It was pouring, and between the rain and the traffic noise, I couldn't hear if he was still calling. I trudged back toward my apartment. My night and mood were ruined; the rain-soaked my clothes as I turned each corner till I got there.

I was freezing; my hands shook as I pushed my key into my door, unlocking my place. Pulling my phone out of my water-logged jeans, my screen was full of calls and messages from Ian. I didn't bother even looking as I undressed, standing in my kitchen. I tossed all of my soaked clothes into the washer before getting into the shower.

The shower was more to heat myself back up than anything else. I sat on the tile floor, pulling my legs to my chest as the hot water cascaded down on my skin. My tears mixed with the water, and by the time I got out, my skin was red and burning, and I was numb. I dried off, combed my hair before pulling on some sweats, a sports bra, and falling into bed, exhausted.

Thankfully I had the next day off of work as I woke up a few hours after I got home, wide awake at 2 am. Pulling on socks, I padded through my apartment toward my phone that was on the kitchen counter.

It was dead, I sighed, moving to plug it in, letting it charge a little as I opened the fridge illuminating the kitchen with the bluish glow. I grabbed a bottle of water and a few cheese sticks looking over as my phone lit up. It charged a little, leaving me to lean on the counter next to it to use it.

There were 15 texts from Ian and a few missed calls. I shook my head, starting to read through the messages.

"That wasn't what it looked like"

"She is someone I used to work with, and we ran into each other while I was waiting for you."

"Where did you go?"

"Come on; it's pouring. Let me come get you so I can explain."

"I'm sorry, please let me explain."

The rest of them consisted of him apologizing or asking where I was or if I was okay. I read all of them; then I listened to his voicemails; they were all the same content as his texts. His voice brought tears back into my eyes. I didn't respond or call back. I had nothing to say. Making my way back to my room, I took my water and laid in bed in the silent, dark room.

I drifted off the sleep at some point and woke up to the sun coming in from my windows. I sat up, rubbing my hands over my face before pulling my hair up and sighing.

Ian POV

I went home after driving around for a few hours, looking for her. She never answered any of my calls or texts, and as I walked into my apartment, I realized how bad I had messed up. I kept checking my phone as I showered and went to bed. I laid awake for hours, practically praying to fall asleep as I repeatedly checked for her to either respond or post something on social media. She never did. Eventually, I fell asleep and was woken up by my alarm. A few of the guys and I had scheduled batting practice at the field, so I got dressed and left doing everything I could not to think about the night before.

When I got to the field, I left my phone in my locker, heading out onto the field, hoping to take all my emotions out on the ball. I set my bats down and found Anthony, Nico, Patrick, and Zack, who was in town for a few days.

"Fellas," I walked up.

"Hey, how did last night go?" Nico asked.

I had told the whole team about the date with the girl of my dreams.

"I um don't want to talk about it."

"What did she stand you up?" Anthony joked.

"No, I screwed up" I put my hands on my hips, looking at him.

"What happened?" Zack asked.

"I was waiting for her, and I ran into Taylor, and she was kinda flirting, and I was trying to be polite, and she walked in at the wrong time; I haven't heard from her since."

All of the guys were silent, looking between the ground and me.

"I fucked up potentially the best thing that could happen to me," I sighed.

The guys were about to start giving advice when our hitting coach showed up, and we got started. While Anthony was batting, Nico came over and stood next to me. Since there were five of us, we had a lot of time just to stand around and talk.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I have no idea. I fucked up, and I have no idea what to do."

He was quiet as we watched Anthony launch a homer toward the center. I took a few deep breaths as Nico looked over at me.

"Have you even talked to her?"

I shook my head.

"I called, and I texted, trying to get her to hear me out, but she hasn't called or texted back. I don't blame her either; I want her to hear me out."

Nico nodded as Patrick walked over.

"Buy her a ticket to tonight's game," he said, stopping in front of us. "Make it somewhere you'll be able to see her, and then have security get her and explain yourself. If she shows up, it means she's willing to hear you out at least; if not, let her go" Patrick looked between us as Nico nodded a few times.

"The man has a point"

After batting practice, I went to the front office and bought a ticket for a few rows up from the on-deck circle.

pov change

"Hey, it's Ian. I know I'm the last guy you want to hear from but, I got you a ticket for tonight's game if you want to come. It's at the main entrance, and all you have to tell them is your name. I want to see you, and I want to have a chance to explain. I understand if you don't come, but I'd like it if you did"

I listened to his message twice from where I laid on my living room floor. I set my phone on my chest, sighing before looking at the clock. It was a night game, and it was already 4 o'clock. I forced myself to get up.

"You have to at least give him a chance," I whispered, heading for my bedroom. "If the explanation isn't good enough, at least you got a free baseball game." I chuckled sadly as I flicked the light on in my bathroom.

I washed my face, did some light makeup, and curled my unruly hair before pulling on a pair of black jeans, a real bra with a tank top. With the base of the outfit started, I walked to my closet. I knew it wasn't warm out, so instead of a jersey, I opted for a Cubs sweatshirt. I added my grey Vans before collecting my things.

I had an hour to get to the field as I got into a cab. I sighed, debating my choice as the cabbie pulled away from the curb. Resting my head back, I looked out the window, watching the city pass on the way to the stadium.

"You okay back there, honey?" The cabbie asked, breaking me out of the nothing box I had gone to in my head.

"Um yeah, I'm fine," I answered politely.

"Come on, you're going to the Cubs game; try and cheer up a little," He tried.

I offered a fake smile and was quiet the rest of the ride. I thanked him and paid as I got out, joining the crowds on the street filing toward the historic stadium. When I got to the main entrance, I found a lady that worked there and approached her with the same fake smile I used in the cab.

"Hi, I'm so sorry, one of the players left me a ticket, and I have no idea where to go to get it," I stated.

"Oh honey, come with me."

She put her hand on my shoulder, leading me back through a few entrances to the inside of the stadium.

"You must be the one," she said with a smile.

"Yes, ma'am," I said with a smile.

"Well, you are good to go," she handed me a ticket with my seat number on it. "If you wanna just head out that door right there, you'll be on the concourse, and you can find your seat from there," She said with a sweet smile.

"Thank you," I said politely, walking out the door she had pointed at.

I got a beer before using the numbers on my ticket to find my seat and settle in. The first pitch was only a few minutes away as I did what I could to prepare myself for seeing Ian again.

Ian POV

"Have you checked to see if she's here?" Nico asked as we stood next to each other in the dugout.

I shook my head, biting the inside of my cheeks.

"I don't want to. I think it's going to be bad either way."

Nico pat my back a few times before walking away. I took a few deep breaths before grabbing my glove and running out onto the field with the rest of the guys. I made sure I didn't look at the seat I'd gotten as I made my way out to centerfield, knowing I would be too far away to see her.

I was the third in the lineup that night, so no matter what happened, I would see her in the first. Pushing the thought of her out of my head, I focused on the inning at hand. All of the outs were on the infield, leaving the outfield just standing there.

We all ran back in, switching out gear as Joc headed to the box. I hid in the dugout while Joc singled to deep left. Kris was on deck, and I stayed in the dugout as long as I could before making my way to the on-deck circle. Pouring over my bat, I looked for any imperfections that could take me back into the dugout. It took some searching, but I found a crack in the barrel and headed back to grab a different bat. Nico came to stand next to me as I reached for one.

"She's here," He said.

I took a deep breath holding it in my chest for a second. Choosing not to respond, I headed back for the on-deck circle standing there as Kris got a single to left-center. My music hit, and I walked over to the batter's box, taking a deep breath before glancing at her seat.

We made eye contact; she held a beer and offered a half-smile at me as I set up with runners at the corners and no outs. I focused on the at-bat and took two pitches down the middle before stepping out and adjusting my gloves.

I took the next pitch deep, basketball out in right field. Rounding the bases, I kept my head down; as I crossed the plate, I tipped my helmet, then high-fived the guys as we ran back toward the dugout. I glanced up, seeing her clapping and smiling. She seemed happy, which was a massive weight off my chest. I walked through the dugout celebrating and putting my gear away before taking a seat on the bench; Nico and Patrick joined me.

"You talked to security yet?" Nico asked.

I shook my head, watching Willson get a base hit. Patrick stood up, looking over at where she was sitting.

"She's still here, Ian; you gotta talk to security before she clears out" He sat back down. I got up, walking down the hall toward the head of the security desk, stopping in front of the desk.

"Hi, Ian," One of the guys said.

"Hey, I was wondering if you could do me a favor" I leaned on the desk.

"Name it"

"There's a girl I need you to get before the game ends and bring her to the clubhouse."

He nodded.

"Of course"

I gave him the information he needed then headed back to the dugout. I sat back down between Nico and Patrick.

"Got it taken care of," I sighed. "Do you think I should get her something to eat or anything?"

Patrick shrugged.

"She already has a beer, so it depends on what she likes for ballpark food."

"I know she likes pretzels and stuff."

Patrick nodded.

POV change

Settling in after the inning, I watched the other team bat as I took in the ballpark atmosphere. After two outs, a few people were walking up and down the aisle next to me; I moved to stand before I felt a hand on my shoulder.

He was wearing a locker room attendant shirt showing he worked for the organization.

I was confused.

"Ian sent these" he smiled, handing me a giant soft pretzel and a second beer.

"Oh, thank you," I smiled, taking them settling back in, getting looks from a few of the people sitting around me.

The next few innings were filled with baserunners for each; by the top of eight, the Cubs were up 8-2. I had finished my pretzel and both beers and had gotten a bottle of water, watching Patrick Wisdom walk up to the box. I moved as a few people filed in and out of the row before security appeared next to me.

"Ms.?" He asked.

"How can I help you?"

"Would you mind coming with me?" He asked.

I shook my head, knowing what this was about. Standing up, I moved out of the row, following the security guard up the stairs and through the stadium. He led me through the common areas before we took a few turns heading deeper into the stadium. The tunnels under were a maze; I had no idea how everyone didn't get lost. I made sure to follow close to security before we stopped near the clubhouse. There was a small couch with a tv in the hallway near the entrance.

"You can wait here; I'm sure you know who asked us to get you," he chuckled as I moved to sit down.

I nodded, smiling, setting my water at my feet.

"They should be down soon, and Ian knows you're here, and he'll come find you."

"Thank you"

"Do you need anything else, or do you need someone to stay?" He asked.

I shook my head with a smile.

"I'm fine, thank you."

"Have a good night," He said with a smile before walking away.

"You too"

I sat back on the couch watching the last few outs of the game and then watched the guys celebrate on their way off the field. It was a few minutes between when they got off the field and heard them come down the stairs and file into the club house. I listened to a few voices I recognized as I stared at the corner waiting for Ian to come around. I stood up, hearing his voice grabbing my water bottle. He came around the corner, looking at me.

"Hi," He said.

"Hey," I walked around toward him.

"Thanks for coming"

I nodded a few times.

"Look, I wanted to explain," He started.

I shook my head.

"I don't need you to explain anything, Ian. I took some time to think, and I don't know if we would have ever worked. With who you are and who I am, we have different lives, Ian."

He nodded.

"The first few weeks we talked, I started bragging about you," He explained. "To the guys in the clubhouse to Dakota and Zack to everyone, even my mom," he chuckled, leaning on the wall. "The guys started calling you the dream girl."

I chuckled, shaking my head.

"I don't know about that."

"I do" Ian looked up at me. "They were right."

I swallowed hard, looking at him.

"I understand why you think what you do and why you feel how you do. But I just want a second chance. I don't want to force your decision right now, so take a few days, a few weeks if you need, and I'll wait to hear from you. I want to have this conversation in person, so I'll text you my address and then wait for you to reach out; leave it all up to you since you know what I want."

I nodded a few times, taking a deep breath.

"Okay"

Ian nodded with me.

"Just take your time, okay."

"I'll see you soon, Ian" I smiled as I started to leave the tunnel.

"Do you need someone to walk you out, or do I need to get you a cab?" He called after me.

"No, I'm okay; I remember how to get out of here."

I kept walking till I got outside the stadium heading down Addison heading for my apartment. I walked for a few blocks thinking through everything Ian said and everything I had felt since I saw him with someone else. I called a cab and caught a ride home while my mind spun.

The next few days, Ian and I didn't tal. He sent me his address the night of the game, but we had no contact since then. My days were dull; I had gotten so used to his texts and his little check-ins, not having them felt weird.

It was four days without talking to Ian and at four in the morning when I made my decision. Getting up, I pulled on a pair of jeans with a sweatshirt, pulling on a pair of vans. I grabbed my phone and a bomber jacket on my way out the door. I found Ian's address and put it in the maps on my phone. His place wasn't far, but it was still a good walking distance, and as I climbed the stairs toward his place, I wasn't sure if I should have waited till a more appropriate time.

Licking my teeth, I knocked on his door then stepped back. It was a few minutes of me standing there when I started to debate coming back in a few hours. Just as I was about to walk away, the lock clicked, and the door swung open.

Ian stood on the other side in a pair of underwear and a t-shirt he just put on. His hair was a curly mess. I smiled as he blinked hard.

"Hey, you okay?" He asked.

"I made my choice," I breathed.

Ian nodded and stepped out of the doorway, silently inviting me in. I walked in, looking around at his place; it was just like I had imagined. Turning, I watched Ian close the door and take a few steps toward me, crossing his arms.

"The last few days have been weird. You are not checking in on me, making sure I'm taking care of myself."

Ian nodded.

"I've missed it, and I missed you a lot. I think I want to try and make this work."

"Do you want me to explain?" he asked.

I nodded slowly.

"She's a co-worker, she works on the field doing sideline stuff, she had a few too many and was flirting with me. I was trying to be polite, and you walked in at the wrong time."

I took a few steps forward, getting on my tippy toes. I put my hand on the side of Ian's face pushing my lips to his.

Ian grabbed my hips, pulling me against him, kissing back softly. His lips were soft and full; I kissed a few more times before settling back on my feet.

"Let's make it work," he said.

[kookix]

All works belong to me - © all rights reserved to @kookix. Please respect this and do not repost or translate any of my work. Thank you :)

Planning the perfect proposal was a dumb idea.

Or when you ruin his proposal.

Paring - Yoongi x reader

Genre - Extreme fluff

Warnings - Minor swearing

Word count - 1.2k

A/n - Anything underlined you can click on :)

Yoongi never felt the need to flash his relationship in other people's faces. He was quite content with it being his, he didn't need validation or a pat on the back from those who thought he was a quote on quote lucky guy. He just needed you, that being said at that moment you were approximately five thousand miles away from him - no more than a week ago you'd up and left to go visit your parents. And he'd be lying if he said that the video calls and text messages were enough for him. They weren't the same as having you right there with him, curled up in his arms with one of his loose fitted t-shirts hanging off your frame as he stared at you in adoration. It really wasn't the same…

Still, there was no way that he's was going call you and demand you come home - you deserved this alone time with your family. You hadn't seen them in person in nearly a year and there's no way Yoongi was going to take that away from you. He'd just have to wait, for now, he'd just suffer through a couple more yearning video calls and unsatisfying text messages.

One or two days had gone by since Yoongi had last - properly - spoken to you. He had been trying not to count them, especially since the days had been moving agonizingly slowly. Obviously, Yoongi's physical ability to function without you was fine, he didn't need you to breath, or exist per se...But, he did need you for one particular reason.

His proposal.

For months he'd had it all planned, right down to the tiniest detail, everything was perfect. Well...Was being the keyword here - his plan had gone up in flames the moment you had informed him of your surprise visit home. And unlike his plan, yours was a complete impulse, you hadn't even really thought it through before you left. All he knew was that the day you had come home and bought your plane ticket, you had this flare and determination rooted in your gaze. You didn't explain where it had come from and he hadn't asked. He'd just pulled on a tight smile as he listened to you practically burst with warmth as you spoke about seeing your little brother, mum and dad again 'for the first time in forever'.

It was unfortunate really. Even at this time, he was twiddling the engagement ring between his fingers; thinking about how he would propose when you got back. And he's definitely sure he doesn't have enough money to reschedule the non-refundable proposal he originally had planned. So the question was what would he do now?

"Ah, I don't know," he sighed, clearly frustrated. He took one more quick look at the ring placed between his fingers before he set it back in its velvet box. "How do I even find a better way to ask (y/n) to be my 'matrimonial' nap buddy?" he mumbled lowly to himself. "Nothing's going to beat the night in the glass dome," he flops back defeatedly on his sofa, covering his face as he does.

Buzz!

A small pout takes over his face - in contrast to its previous grimace - before he sits back up to glance at his buzzing phone. Oh, it was you, he noted once he picked it up, what perfect timing.

It didn't take more than two rings before you answered, the camera fumbled around in your grasp as - Yoongi could only assume - you were trying to get comfortable in a bean bag chair. "Yoonz, I've missed your face so much." You finally said once you were settled.

"Missed yours too, sweetheart, " he let out, huskily. Showing off one of his gummy smiles, only a little lazier than usual. "How's your visit?"

"It's good...," you hesitated. "Don't get me wrong I'm so happy to see my family and be back here, but…"

”But?"

"I don't know, I'm just not enjoying it as much without you." You confess, letting your teeth sink into your bottom lip. Oh, Yoongi really didn't expect that. "It's just I can't help but keep turning around to tell you something but, then I realise you're not here." You sigh, tucking some hair behind your ear. "I guess, I started to realize that I hate when I can't share things with you, I-I don't want life to be like that Yoongi." You paused. "I want to be able to share all my greatest moments with you, forever...so, Yoongi will-"

Wait- what was the going on here?! Were you proposing...?! Well, possibly you could be about to say something completely different but, the feeling Yoongi was getting in the pit if his stomach was telling him differently. His mind was reeling, more than one thing alerting it at a once. But, he's wasn't sure which one to focus on first; the deep swell in his chest or the fact that you might - potentially - be proposing to him!

"Will you-" Oh God you're stealing his proposal, why is he even surprised. "Marry me...?"

There's a long drawn out pause and Yoongi can see you, practically holding your breath as you wait patiently for him to answer. And he can also see your shoulders drop slightly when he doesn't immediately let out a giant 'yes!'. "Never mind, it's stupid-"

"No, it isn't," he stops you - and he knows if you were with him right now he would clasp your hand with so much loving intent you'd freaking melt. "Yes, I'll marry you, you idiot, I love you.' He beamed softly. " Oh, sweetheart no- don't cry," he tried to soothe you as your lip trembled and your eyes began to water.

Taking a few seconds you blinked excessively in an attempt to stop any tears."I-I'm sorry, I thought you were going to say no," you half-laughed through your teary state.

"I would never," he promised. "Even though you ruined my first proposal and stole my second one," Yoongi smirked, letting a wolfish grin play across his face. "Yep," he continued as your watery eyes started back at him in shock. "I had rented a glass dome for the night, with your favourite fake flowers, because I know you're allergic to the real ones, it was freaking beautiful!. Ah, I had so much planned." He shook his head in mock sorrow.

"Yoongi- I- fuck...I promise I'm going to make it up to you." You say, opening and closing your mouth a few more times. "I- gosh- I can't believe- wow-"

"Being my wife will be enough, " he cut you off. "plus I hadn't come up with a second proposal idea yet so you kind of...did me a favour, " Yoongi chuckled.

The words seemed so nonchalant coming from his mouth but, hearing him call you his wife that certainly hit you differently. "Oh God, I'm booking a flight home right now, I'll see you in 11 hours my husband to be!" You don't even wait for him to say goodbye before you're ending the call.

"See you in 11 hours, sweetheart," he whispers contentedly at the now blank screen of his phone.

A/n - Thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed. Even though this was written by a noob. 🤧💜

[funtimebunnyblog]

Diamante d’Italia: Chapter 1

After his Father "generously gave" the teenager a whopping amount of money Josuke finds himself vacationing in beautiful southern Italy.

However, being the trouble magnet he is, he ends up getting caught in Famiglia affairs.

Being so far from his home and his friends, Josuke needs to make some powerful allies to help him out of this mess...

(Chapter 1: Culture shock)

"--and remember to-"

"Yes Mom. I know." Josuke sighed into the phone, rolling his eyes. "I've got everything on me. You know I can protect myself."

They'd had this exact same phone conversation at every other airport he had called from so far. By now the teenager had memorized it all and knew exactly what his Mother was going to say.

Standing in the airport of Naples Italy wouldn't make a difference.

"Ok. But just be careful Josuke. Italy is so far from here." She said over the background clatter. "And you don't even know any Italian."

There was a crackle over the phone as she sighed, he could hear the sounds of dishes clinking in the background followed by running water.

He almost had to plug his other ear to drown out the loud voice on the intercom so he could hear her talking.

"...I know Tonio."

"That joke was horrible, Josuke."

If there wasn't the sound of dishes still being done, he would've been sure his Mother had hung up on him.

There were no words exchanged for at least a full 10 seconds and with each passing second the teenager tried harder and harder to contain every giggle that tried to escape his lips, waiting with baited breath on her reaction.

The teenager couldn't hold in his laughter anymore, wheezing a little as he leaned on the glass wall of the phonebooth.

"I know." He cackled. "But it's kinda true. Tonio told me so much about Italy! It can't be that bad here..."

A change of scenery would do him good. Especially after all he had been through in the past little while with all that serial killer mess.

He had been daydreaming about this trip, this place, but most importantly; the cuisine, for almost a month now.

After his Father so generously "gave" him his wallet upon departure of Morioh, Josuke Higashikata decided it was time for him to see some of the world.

It was definitely time for a vacation and what better place to visit than the country with food that made Okuyasu and him squabble over every single morsel cooked and served to them by Tonio.

He earned a punch to the shoulder however from Okuyasu after telling him the news. His friend wasn't spiteful however and laughed, telling him that he could finally have Tonio and his fine chef skills all to himself while he was away.

Neither of them had really looked at "normal" food that same way after tasting fine Italian food so he couldn't think of a better place to go for some rest and relaxation.

He had also heard that Italy held some beautiful sights.

Josuke promised to bring him home a shitload of souvenirs anyways. He was also considering getting something for Koichi and his Mom back home.

There was another crackle over the phone along with the running water in the background suddenly being turned off, making it a little easier to hear the woman as she spoke.

"If you say so..."

It also made it easier to hear the undeniable concern lacing her tone however.

"Say, what time is it over there anyways Mom?" He questioned, mostly out of curiosity, but also for the sake of taking his Mothers mind off of any worries she held for him.

"Just after 5." She answered with a hum, the sound of a plug being pulled and a draining sink accompanying it.

"Oh wow!" He blinked, peering out off the glass booth to squint at the overly large clock of the airport terminal. "It's only 10AM over here."

"If you're going to call home, please do it around this time Josuke." She told him, a laugh lacing her voice as she spoke. "I wouldn't appreciate being woken up by the phone at 3AM."

The Highschooler laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head. He should probably write that down just in case he forgot, the last thing he wanted was to be screamed at by his Mother over the phone for waking her up in the middle of the night.

"Right..." he murmured. "Anyways. I should probably go now Mom. I'll call you from a Hotel or something tomorrow."

"Ok Josuke."

He could hear her hesitation to let him go in her voice alone.

"I'll be fine. I love you Mom. Talk soon!"

"I love you too."

He hung up the phone at last, a small smile gracing his lips.

Gripping the handle of his luggage tightly, he stepped out of the booth with his head held high.

He was worried about his Mother too of course. She was going through a lot too, especially when she was still grieving for his Grandfather.

However, once he was in possession of his newly aquired money (not stolen! Where would you get that idea?) He had given her a good portion of it and told her to spend the time he was away getting her nails done or treating herself in anyway she saw fit. She needed this little break as much as he did.

"Time to find a cab."

☆☆☆

Easier said than done.

Here he was on a sidewalk, finally into the City after nearly 2 hours of waiting for an open taxi to take him from the airport to the city, his pompador all in a stressful ruffle over the whole ordeal.

His eyes darted back and forth between the outstretched hand of the driver and the meter on the dashboard.

"120 000 Lira?!" He squawked at the cab driver, his aquamarine eyes going wide in their sockets as the man held out his hand before him.

Josuke wasn't exactly a mathematician, but he knew enough to know that amount was absurd! "Th-there's gotta be some mistake, sir! You only drove me to the edge of the city."

This was highway robbery (no pun intended), there was no way it could've been that much!

The taxi driver had rolled his eyes at him and told him otherwise, demanding he pay up or he'd drag him straight to the Police Officers who were standing idle near the Cab on the streetcorner.

Josuke peered into his wallet with a sigh from where he sat on the curb. Damnit. He'd have to think twice about taking another cab. He only had so much money to blow, necessary expenses like food and hotelrooms were his main priority, and he still needed a ticket home to Japan when all of this was over.

He'd just have to settle for walking the entire time he was here.

He tucked his wallet away safely, flicking out a comb and began to straighten out the poof of hair he so adored. He'd have to put some more hairspray in it later if things kept going like this, good thing he packed 8 whole cans.

His Lunchhour.

He stood up, grabbing his suitcase once more and keeping it close to his side.

"Well... I guess it's time to find a hotel." He mused. His thoughts were interrupted however by a punctuating growl of his stomach. He hadn't eaten much on the plane at all and from the position of the overhead sun, he could tell it was noontime.

"Ooh." He breathed, a hand moving to his stomach in surprise. "I'm running on empty..."

However, maybe it was better to ask for directions.

He supposed a Hotel would have to wait. What he really needed right now was a restaurant.

From all the stories Tonio told him about Italian cuisine and the entire culture behind it, he was sure it wouldn't be too hard to find one of those around here.

"Um- excuse me--" he tried to grab the attention of a passing man. The guy kept on walking without even giving him a side glance.

Another man approached him from behind and Josuke turned, stepping in front of him somewhat to gain his attention.

"Er... oh! Sir! A moment please, I'm--"

There went another one, very much like the first.

"Excuse me sir, could you tell me--" he started again. The man stopped in his tracks, nearly bumping right into Josuke.

"Ey! What gives?!"

"Outta my way, bastardo!"

The Highschool student barely had a chance to blink before the guy was right in his face, a fierce scowl pulling on his face.

If looks could kill, Josuke would be getting murdered in that moment.

The man grunted and shoved him further out of his way, balling his fists and grumbling to himself, too low for Josuke to hear, but the teen knew it was all in fluent Italian.

He held up his free hand in surrender, backing up and out of the way of the angry stranger.

"S-Sorry sir!" He practically squeaked. "I... I didn't mean to bother you!"

He rubbed his arm, a frown found its way to his face as he watched the furious mans back.

Sheesh. And here he thought he had been in a rough town back in Japan.

Maybe he should just start walking...

☆☆☆

He was starting to wish he took some language courses with Koichi in this years last term.

Or maybe he could've learned some basic words and stuff from Tonio, the man always seemed eager to share in the wonders of his culture after all.

Or maybe he could've not been an absolute dumbass and bought an Italian to English dictionary to use.

Or worse.

Josuke had been walking up and down the streets for nearly an hour, passing by buildings and signs galore, none of which he could read.

He was tempted to stop another stranger to ask what any of them meant, or even just plain ask where the nearest restaurant was, but he didn't want to get screamed at again.

Staring at the signs like a toddler who didn't know how to read but was trying made it all the worse.

"This is hopeless..." he grumbled, kicking at the sidewalk, sending a small stone bouncing down the white concrete.

He was actually contemplating calling his Mother again to ask her what he should do.

Maybe he could even call Tonio. Or Koichi. Or Okuyasu. Or his Nephew. Or fuck, ANYONE at this point.

Maybe he shouldn't have traveled alone and brought one of them along...

He had a feeling this was going to be a long day and he dug in his coat, whipping out his comb again. His pompadour was getting all ruffled again.

"Ei, tu."

He paused. Did someone... speak to him?

"Um... Hello?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "Did you say something?"

Frowning, he turned to locate the voice, finding himself facing an alleyway that lead off the street.

A figure stood there, leaned against the brick wall of a building, their eyes gleaming at him. There were others too, just two others, all of them looking at him.

The one closest to the alley entrance, a tall thinner male, looked him up and down, "Sei il ragazzo?" A question of some sort.

The one who spoke sported disheveled brown hair and clothes that were even more so, with strange sunken in eyes that seemed to hold a never ending stare. His two friends were not much different, they all had that same stare and it was locked firmly onto him.

Josuke frowned a little deeper, he didn't really understand what the man wad saying. Did he want something? Or maybe... was he trying to help him?

The Highschool student looked around before stepping into the alley, closing the distance between him and the group.

"Um... I'm sorry I don't understand." He flashed an awkward smile, looking between the three men hoping that someone could understand him or at least translate. "Can any of you help...?"

It sort of reminded Josuke of when he ate his Lunch at the neighborhood park back in Morioh.

The dogs that hung out around there would all approach him, then sit and watch, with their ears up and their backs straight, unblinking and expecting him to give them a piece of his sandwich.

He always thought it was a little creepy, but it was even creepier somehow to see it in a person.

The brown haired one pointed to the suitcase he held, "É questo?" That sounded like another question to him.

This was getting nowhere. He heaved out a sigh, throwing his hands up as he began to back away. "Sorry. I have no idea what you're saying... I-I really got to go."

The more he backed up, the more the blankness of stares seemed to disolve into... anger?

Yeah, suddenly these guys were looking pissed. All three of them were staring even more intensely into him, most especially the brown haired one.

"Prendetelo!" One of the others barked.

"Dacci le maledette droghe, cazzone!" The brunet man screeched and Josuke realized there was a fist coming for him. He stepped back quickly, the closed hand swooping loudly through the air, barely gracing his chest.

What was happening? Why were these men suddenly after him? Josuke barely had the time to consider the options of running away or trying to talk his way out of all of this mess before he was suddenly on the ground.

"Darlo a noi!"

They tried to pull the leather bag from his grasp and he pulled back harder, now full on clutching it to his chest as the fists now rained down on him.

Josuke couldn't even cry out. Everything was happening all at once. His thoughts were loud and his heartbeat was louder. The noise around him had gone to nothing but whitenoise. His only thought was to not let them take his suitcase.

And then... it all stopped. Just as quickly as it happened.

The teenager opened his eyes to find that all the kicking and punching had ceased on him. One of the men was on the ground and there was another person standing over them, yelling into his face.

But here he was. Defending a fucking stranger from a group of junkies.

Leone Abbacchio hated getting involved with common street fights. He hated it especially more when he was supposed to NOT be fighting someone today.

It was his day off after all. Bucciarati told him he could spend his time how he wanted it and he wanted some alone time.

All the Mafioso wanted to do was listen to his damn music and get some lunch when he noticed this damn idiot (obviously a tourist) trying to converse with the men.

'Just keep walking.' He tried to tell himself over and over, trying to pacify the unease building in him.

It wasn't his affair.

This was their problem.

He was a bystander.

He wasn't even in the alley.

He was on his way somewhere.

He shouldn't even give it a passing glance....

And then he watched the punk get knocked to the ground.

Now here he was, kicking the shit out of a damn dirty junkie.

Josuke winced at he the sound of a fist hitting hard against a nose, the crackle of bone filling his ears.

"FUCK OFF!"

One of the men who had been attacking him came up behind the silver haired figure and threw his arms around him in an attempt to pull him down.

Abbacchio didn't even flinch and hauled the man forward, bending so he came right over his head and smacked into the brunet who was holding the nose that was gushing with red blood.

He definitely owned up to his name then and there because to Josuke his gruff and booming voice was like the roar of a powerful Lion.

That was all it took. All three of them were clamoring to their feet and booking it down towards the other end of the alley.

It sort of reminded Josuke of that time he broke that seniors nose.

Thank God his hair was still ok though, after checking quickly he sighed in pure relief. That was truly what mattered to him, along with his luggage.

His eyes turned to his savior and he slowly got up from the hard ground, wincing as he did.

He was definitely going to hurt in the morning. He could already feel a bruise spotting on the center of his back.

"Th... Thank you." He spoke at last watching as the new stranger turned to face him at last. "I just wanted to ask for directions but I didn't know what they wanted..."

The duel coloured eyes of the man burned into him as he looked over him, making the high schooler start to sweat under the penetrating gaze.

"You... seem familiar." Abbacchio said at length. He had seen someone before with the same kinda face, he was sure of it. He squinted at the Highschool student as he wracked his brain for answers.

The teenager was sure of that. He was sure he would've remembered this man purely by the way he looked, let alone the strong and intimidating presence that radiated off him, if he had even glanced in his direction before.

Josuke blinked, his expression not unlike a deer staring into the headlights of an oncoming car.

"Um... we've never met before."

Abbacchio rolled his eyes. "Tch. No shit." He spat. "I've never seen you before either stronzo. You just seem kinda familiar."

Josuke winced slightly, averting his eyes to the ground lamely.

"Sorry."

He really hoped this guy could take a joke. He just got off the ground and didn't want to be thrown back down onto it.

He really was. For what exactly, he wasn't sure, but apologies always spilled from your lips in these kind of situations, regardless of whether you did something or not.

He broke off into an awkward laugh, shrugging as he struggled to meet the mans gaze. "I'm the only one I know who has such stylish hair like this so I don't know what would seem familiar to you."

"Whatever." The Goth finally said, shaking his head. "Judging by what just happened I can tell you're not from around here. You a tourist or something kid?"

Abbacchio folded his arms, looking him up and down again, making him painfully aware of more sweat beading on his neck.

This man was so hard to read to Josuke, kind of like his nephew in that way, he had no idea what the hell he was thinking.

"Oh sure am!" Josuke smiled brightly, a little more at ease. This guy was making some small talk with him, which was usually a step in a good direction.

A direction where he hoped he wouldn't get beat up and almost mugged again...

"I'm kinda on a vacation. I got some money and decided I wanted to see the world..." He rocked on his heels a little, studying the man before him just as much as he was him. "You live around here?"

"You could say that..." Abbacchio hummed, glancing back towards the street. "I don't exactly have a home but I live here."

"Oh!" Josuke had to refrain himself from covering his mouth after letting out that noise in surprise. He averted his gaze, absentmindedly scratching the back of his neck.

"Oh." He said, much softer this time, feeling very awkward. If only he had the ability to make the ground swallow him up. "I'm sorry...."

Leone offered no response.

"Do you like... have a place to sleep at least? Like at nights?"

"Yeah. I tend to move around a lot though." He answered vaguely. Best to keep all that extra information to himself. This brat didn't need to know the ins and outs of his life.

He nodded this time, because he did. He mostly slept at Bucciarati's house, whether upstairs in one of the guestrooms or on the mans couch downstairs.

Sometimes when out on missions, whether alone or with the others, he checked into a hotel (sometimes a Motel) and stayed there.

Other times he slept in the back of a van while on the road to or from said missions.

At least he wasn't drinking himself to death somewhere in the gutter anymore...

He turned his gaze back to Josuke who seemed a little more at ease hearing his words. He narrowed his eyes, "You're not.... in the Famiglia? Are you?"

Josuke blinked a few times. The.... what?

"Fam-eel-e-ah?"

That alone answered his question.

Who the hell other than a Mafioso sported a fucking pompadour?!

Raising one pointed eyebrow, he looked the kid over again. He never would've guessed he wasn't associated because he certainly dressed like a Mafioso.

What with that black coat adorned with those shiny golden hearts, not to mention the peace sign and the anchor as well, and that hair...

This twerp apparently...

Abbacchio huffed, waving a hand dismissively. "Nevermind. Just... watch yourself Kid. More importantly, watch your wallet."

Oh Christ! His wallet! He might've dropped it in that scuffle! Those bastards might've took it!

Josuke panicked, hands instinctively slapping his pockets in a frantic search. Ah! It was there! As soon as his hand found the bulge in his pocket, he let out a breath as relief washed over him like a warm tidalwave on the beach.

"Oh- yeah, yeah... of course." He breathed. "Th-Thanks for reminding me-" here he paused, his pale blue eyes blinking. "I never... got your name."

To his own surprise, Abbacchio complied.

"Abbacchio." He said. "Leone Abbacchio."

"Abbacchio..." Josuke tested the name out, bobbing his head as he idly scratched his chin. "Ha! Cool name. I'm Josuke Higashikata, I actually come from Japan."

The dawny eyed mans frown deepened as he contemplated telling him that his last name literally just meant "lambchop", a far cry from "cool" if you asked him, but he thought better of it.

Yeah. There was no way in Hell Abbacchio was going to try and take a crack at repeating that last name. He'd be there all day.

Just "Josuke" would have to do.

"Japan, huh?" He said aloud, more to himself than Josuke, stroking his chin in thought. "I hear the streets are much nicer there..."

The events of the past couple of months suddenly came flooding back all at once to Josuke. How he and his friends had been attacked left and right, going against all odds, all on a search to hunt down their towns serial killer.

The blaring siren of that Ambulance still haunted him in his sleep and he woke up in a cold sweat each time there came the sound of a head being popped each time it replayed in his head.

He laughed a little, forcing a smile on his face as a hand swept through his hair. "Yeah... you could say that."

Now desperate to change the subject, he decided to steer the conversation to something much lighter. Something that didn't make him remember a massacre.

Or a hand-fetishing serial killer getting his head squashed like a grape.

"You've... got quite the fashion sense." He commented, pointing to the mans open coat lined with laces and purple lipstick maybe a little rudely. "I like your eyeliner."

Leone hardly batted an eye (a well lined eye at that) at his words. If anything, he was surprised the kid didn't outright say anything like "ARE YOU A GOTH?!"

He was quite used to that one, even if the answer was yes it was still irritating.

Besides... that one little girl on the bus that time told him he looked pretty. And that was enough for him.

Or there was always the "Why are you wearing makeup? You're a MAN!"

Now that one always made him fucking furious. Just because he was "a man" didn't make any damn difference. Makeup was to make you look good so it was for everyone.

"Thanks." He huffed. Though his voice hadn't lost any of that gruffness, he truly was thankful for a genuine compliment. "I like your coat."

He wasn't quite like Koichi however. The silver haired teenager thst only came up to his hip wore his heart on his sleeve everywhere he went.

Josuke, very unlike Abbacchio who seemed indifferent to it all, blushed at the praise. His friends always told him he was very expressive and that was true.

When he was happy he walked with bounce in his step, when he was sad it all came out in tears and when he was angry... oh... he was told the sight wasn't very pretty.

"Ah, thanks. It's my school uniform, I really like it."

Here Abbacchios eyebrows shot right up, a frown twinging at the corners of his mouth. A school uniform? This kid must have been living some kind of high life, or maybe at least went to a pretty decent school, if this was just a plain old uniform.

He pursed his lips, the punk kind of reminded him of a stand-user. He had a hunch.

"I see..." he hummed, folding his arms across his chest. "You really are still just a kid then."

Bucciarati often said that stand-users (natural or otherwise) tended to gravitate towards one another. Like "strings of fate" or some cliché sounding shit.

But maybe it was possible. This kid wasn't a Mafioso... but he could very well have powers.

Like lightning striking, Josukes expression changed again. His eyebrows went together and his lips into a sort of a pout.

"I'm 16." He told the man, trying to sound as rough and tough at least as half as this stranger was (Abbacchio quirked an eyebrow, looking completely unfazed at his attempt however, probably because he just watched him get beat up). "Besides. I think I'm pretty mature..."

"I won't call you a kid if you don't call me an old man. Deal?"

This kid was starting to kinda sound like Mista. However if the punk started spewing shit about how the number 4 was unlucky, he would get as far away as possible.

He half chuckled (it was more of an exhale), coloured lips quirking somewhat into a smirk.

Josuke shrugged, uncrossing his arms as his lips pulled into a smirk of their own, cocking an eyebrow at the other.

"Hmm, depends. How old are you?" He questioned, almost playfully. The man must have been at least approaching his 30's but he wasn't sure.

"Well into my 20's." Abbacchio grunted, keeping his exact age number vague to the young teen. "But I've seen more shit than other people do in a lifetime."

For all he know he really could be an old man. He had white hair after all and certainly had the gruffness of an older man.

Maybe he was hiding some wrinkles under that makeup or something?

Only in his 20's? Jeeze... he believed that last part. Most especially when the dawny eyes suddenly locked onto his, staring at him with all seriousness.

"Listen to me, I don't really care what the Hell you do, but when you get out of school... stay away from the bad stuff. You hear me?"

Josuke swallowed, his mouth now felt way too dry, and he nodded to the man almost knowingly. He had been through some bads too... however, he couldn't help but wonder how much similarities there were between him and Abbacchio.

Leone huffed quietly, giving the kid one more solemn nod, before turning on his heel and quietly going on his way down the alley, out towards the street.

The teenager watched him go, feeling painfully out of place all of a sudden, like a puzzle piece that had been jammed into the wrong spot.

"Uh- hey!"

He didn't even realize that he had called out until Abbacchio halted in his tracks, turning to look at him with a deep frown.

Josuke fidgeted on the spot, stuffing his hands in his pockets to avoid fumbling with them out in the open and look somewhat composed under the older mans stare.

Once again, Leone Abbacchio found himself feeling surprised.

"Uhh..." he cleared his throat, trying to focus his thoughts clear enough to speak without stuttering.

"This might sound kinda weird but -uh... you wanna... like grab a coffee or something?" He smiled sheepishly at the man whose expression didn't change. "I mean, you just kinda saved my skin back there and you seem pretty cool. I don't have anybody traveling with me and... we could like... talk more? Ah- only if you don't mind!"

Ah, fuck it. He had already gone out of his way.

Normally when he was out and about and people were forced to interact with him in any way, shape or form, they tended to want to get as far away as possible, as quickly as possible.

Hell, he had people practically jump out of his way sometimes when he was just walking down the street.

Plus, he was getting hungry.

He nodded to Josuke.

Josuke was now jogging up to him, the man swore he saw stars in the teens eyes to match his bright smile.

Tonio definitely didn't tell him that part about Italy...

He wasn't even sure if he had even been that long here in Italy.

Josuke did his best to keep up, Abbacchios steps were long and deliberate making him quite fast for a man who was just taking a stroll, keeping just a little behind him to avoid bumping shoulders with the people on the streets.

Abbacchio started down the alley again, waving him to follow.

"Comrades, huh?" He laughed a little. "What? You in a gang or something?"

It was meant to be a joke. Something to get his newest companion to roll his eyes and give a half-hearted chuckle. Josuke felt his stomach become as heavy as a brick when Abbacchio swiveled his head to look at him, his white hair flinging slightly over his shoulder as he stared him in the face.

The teen wondered briefly if his new ally would suddenly beat him up like those dealers tried to do and he gulped, preparing to turn tail and run as fast as he could down the street.

The former policeman frowned deeply. Did this stronzo know nothing about the mean Italian streets? The Mafia? Of fucking course he was in a Gang, did he think he was just a streetwalking freak that kicked the shit out of druggies and junkies alike for fun?

Abbacchio leaned closer, his expression radiating all seriousness.

"S-Sorry..." he muttered somewhat lamely, his voice so quiet Abbacchio probably wouldn't have heard him if he weren't so close.

Any idiot would know the true meaning to that answer and Josuke didn't consider himself an idiot.

The man grunted in response and simply kept walking, no more was said as Josuke continued to followed him down the street to this supposed spot.

On the bright side of things... he now reminded him even more of his nephew Jotaro.

Even if it wasn't in a good way...

More importantly, he was finally going to get something to eat.

[xxkellsvixen19xx]

Forget Me Not Jim Mason x Reader 50 First Dates AU Pt 10 *Final Part*

@michael-langdon-appreciation

AFTER THE CHAOS of the birth scene, quiet finally descended. Everywhere except in Jon's brain. Well, his heart-that too was going a million miles an hour, and the reason was right there in his hands.

The doctor had left after giving them a wink and placing his finger against his lips. Medina had left.

Y/N had stepped into the shower, and the nurse had pushed him back into the chair beside the bed. Without so much as a "here you go” she’d placed the baby in his arms. Then she'd left the room, giving Jim no opportunity to do anything but sit there and stare at the tiny person he held cradled in his hands.

Honest truth? He was fucking scared to death. By a bundle of humanity the size of a bread loaf. The baby boy wiggled, and Jim pulled him closer, soft flannel pressing the side of his arm as he cradled the bundle. "Oh, man. This is…”

The kid's face was all scrunched up-no way to tell family resemblance to anyone when he looked like that. Jim glanced around the room to double-check he was alone then carefully laid the baby in his lap and loosened off the blanket.

It might be stupid, but he had to see. He wasn't looking for a distinguishing mark or anything, but... Jim wanted to count toes. And fingers. And look again at how perfectly human, and yet perfectly tiny the baby was.

Baby James complained loudly about being poked and prodded. His arms flared out, fists waving in the air, and Jim did his best to rewrap him. The trick eluded him, and things were a bit of a mess, but James settled down, his bright purple eyes seeming to stare straight through Jim.

"So. You're here."

Another thing that might be stupid, but it felt right to talk to the kid. Tell him...

"You know, your mom is pretty incredible. You have no idea what she just went through for you. Frankly, you probably don't want to know, but right off the bat, you picked a good one, kid. She's loved you with everything in her since she knew you were coming, and she wants nothing but the best for you."

The words stuck in his throat for a minute as that really, truly registered. How much Y/N loved James. The fact she'd said she loved Jim as well?

It wasn't as if there was a limit to love. Only so much to be doled out a little at a time before you had to hold back and save some for another day.

The baby lying in his lap was proof that love wasn't about what you could do, or where you’d come from. Love was a gift, and damn if emotion wasn’t welling up in a way that made Jim gasp at the sharpness of it cutting away the bloody edges inside.

Did it really matter if James was the result of his genes and Y/N's mixing? Or did it matter more that Jon would be called daddy? That he could be a father James looked up to-he'd teach his son to do all the fun things in life, and to deal with all the responsibilities, but most of all he could teach his son how to love unconditionally.

If it turned out Rick had started this life, and the courts decreed he had to be involved, Jim would find a way to make sure even that was somehow a positive experience. He'd protect James, like he would protect Y/N going forward. Not with fists and violence, but in a way that would make a difference in the end.

God, somehow, he would find away.

"So, here’s the deal. I'm your daddy. Well, I need to do some convincing to get your mom to marry me before it will be official, but whatever else happens, or however long that takes, you and me? We're the real deal. We're going to be having a lot of talks over the years. About doing chores you hate, and girls you like. And maybe we'll talk about cars or computers or whatever else comes along. But I'm going to be there for you. For you and your momma. And it doesn’t matter to me one bit if you’re someone else’s son, because you're mine, and I'm so damn thankful for you."

He had to wipe away a tear. "Not at all what I expected, but it's exactly what I needed-you coming into my life. And maybe we'll fight at times, or you'll get grounded-hell, I kind of expect you will if you're  anything like me-but no matter what, I'm your daddy. And that’s never going to change."

He'd been so intent on the pain that was leaving him in a rush he hadn’t noticed the shower had turned off.

The first thing that registered was the soft touch of hands slipping over his shoulders as Y/N draped herself up against his back. She touched her cheek to his, moisture connecting-his tears or hers? She snuck a hand around his torso and laid her fingers over his where he gently held James. "I love you, Jim. we'll find a way."

"We’ll make memories, good ones, and we'll find a way," he agreed.

He opened his arms and pulled them in close. Opened his heart and did the same. This wasn’t about his past, it was about his future. A grown-up, straight-up heart-and-brain decision to be there for the two people who mattered the most.

His lover.

And his son.

Five days later

THE TEST RESULTS came sealed in an envelope. One page, with all kinds of numbers and details at the bottom, but all Jim could see through his tears was the beginning.

The results of the paternity test are consistent with the alleged father Jim Mason being the biological father of the child James Mason Jr. The probability of paternity is greater than 99.9%.

Y/N took another box off the shelf, peeking inside briefly before abandoning it with the others. In the background, she heard the sounds of water splashing, and a momentary protest rang out as James squawked. Jim's answer came immediately, soft and reassuring as he soothed the baby.

It was one of the wonderful parts of being a family. Jim had taken over the nighttime bath routine, leaving her a few moments to accomplish something without the little one around.

Tonight she'd grown serious enough to venture into the storage room. She'd created a one-of-a-kind scrapbook to record James's milestones-crafted together from a hardcover book Medina had gifted her and some of her new artistic talent. The details were caught up, but now she wanted to compare it to what was recorded in her own baby book.

Only where was it?

She pulled the lid off yet another box, surprised to find the decorative book that used to sit beside her computer.

She'd used it for taking notes and jotting down recipes, and as she flipped through the pages realized she had stashed a backup of all her passwords.

Driven by curiosity, she tucked the book under her arm and headed down the hall, pausing in the door of the bathroom to watch her guys. Jim carefully washed James's hair chatting all the time about engines and torque, and other things that made her smile. The baby did nothing more than gurgle in response, but Jim didn't seem to care.

He must've sensed she was there, and he glanced over his shoulder momentarily, his smile ratcheting up a notch as he looked her over.

"Well, whatever you're doing I look forward to joining you later." He leered at her, his hands carefully guarding James as their son wiggled his limbs happily.

Y/N stuck out her tongue and twirled away, the short shorts and tight tank top she was wearing to beat the August heat clinging to her body with a slick of sweat.

She sat at the computer and went to her long-since-abandoned email account. Stared at the password sign-in and wondered if it was even worthwhile. She loved Jim, trusted him. That wasn’t even a question anymore. The only reason to look would be to satisfy her curiosity.

She really should go wash up the dinner dishes instead. Or clean up the mess she'd made with the new set of paints Jim had bought her to explore another artsy area that had caught her interest.

Curiosity won.

She checked the information in the flowery notebook, inserted the proper password, then hit enter. The entire screen bloomed with unread emails. She rolled her eyes and scrolled back through months’ worth of spam. It wasn't until she reached the previous October that there were some real emails for her, most of them containing information she had received after her accident. Information that had been duplicated and sent to her new account.

She knew the date she was looking for. By this time it wasn't a case of need to see it, but it was strangely comforting all the same that the email Jim had told her he had sent was there. She clicked it open and smiled, her heart filling with even more love as she read it through.

There was no room for sadness. No room for regrets that her accident had taken some of this from her.  No room for anger at the lies Rick had told, first in insisting they'd gotten back together and then his manipulation toward the end.

As the sounds of her laughing husband and a contented baby carried into the main room, Y/N had nothing inside but happiness. Filled to the top with love for two people, one of whom hadn’t even existed this time last year.

She paused to print out the note, though. Not to show to Jim, but to slip into the other memory book she’d started. The one where she’d pinned the picture he had taken immediately after their first official kiss. The book she'd taped the ticket stubs from their first movie. Pasted the PG sketch she'd done of him-the dirty one she had tucked elsewhere to keep it from anyone else's eyes.

The printout was a new memory of the truth and commitment he’d offered her, even before she'd known how much she was going to need him.

Jim stepped back into the living room, James in his arms. "Someone is ready for a cuddle." He lowered their baby into her embrace then stepped back only far enough to drape his arm around her shoulders as he leaned against her, their bodies close and intimate.

Scrubbed and clean, eyes drooping with sleep, James stared up at them both, little mouth opening wide with a yawn.

"He's so gorgeous." Y/N slipped a finger over his tiny lips, and he puckered, looking for something more.

"Of course he is. He's our kid." Jim reached over and tucked his finger into James’s tiny fist. Baby fingers barely reached around, but the kid hung on tight.

The soft touch of lips against her temple as Jim kissed her was the final blessing on the moment. Y/N tucked herself and James tighter into the embrace then looked up into the sincere gaze of her lover. The father of her child, in not just blood but all the more important ways.

"I love you, Jim Mason. Heart and soul."

His grin widened. "I love you too, and you'd better never forget it."

She laughed as he turned her to face the backyard where he'd planted so many flowers. The brilliant blue flower petals had faded, but the message remained.

As his arms circled both of them, Y/N leaned back and soaked in the wonder that was her life. The one full of memories with even more to be made in the future.

[cslupus]

Seeds

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Hello! It's Lupus. Here to put the chronic into the Chronicles. I don't own anything by C.S. Lewis but I believe he would smile on fanfiction and that he fully intended the reader to finish his world. I don't own anything by Tech N9ne. The italics are lyrics from his song "Einstein".

Christmas day. Topeka, KS. 2414 Se Colorado Street. Dale's house

"So, fucking Egypt, right? Yknow, I was there and damn it, I wanted to try some of that local hashish." John said this while gesturing with the hose of the hookah in his hand, half remembering to finally take a hit. He blew the next words in clouds, "It was back in late 2011 to early 2012 and they had that revolution, right? Well..." John paused to take a drink from his tall natty light and coughed. Scarlette sat inconspicuously at the end of the couch, a worn and gorilla taped hookah hose in hand as everyone listened to the man sitting cross-legged on the floor. She'd been at job Corp for a year and a half and was finally free to smoke. She was lit as fuck and did her best to follow along. He continued, "So I found some guys who put me in contact with a dealer. And this wasn't something like here in the states where you go to the place, take it home and, yknow. No, this dude led me and about 3 other guys to this fucking warehouse. There was literally this big ol' switch breaker, like 'Egor, flip the switch' style thing that they pull down to turn on this one bare bulb hanging over this circle of chairs. At this point I'm thinking, yknow. 'Yeah, I might die, but fuck it. Yolo. Let's see where this goes.' and besides, they already had my money. So we go and sit in these chairs and they break it out and we're passing it around when one of the guys there starts to speak. He said," John paused. The look in his eye had shifted to a sadder gaze. "He said he was with the Egyptian guard or military or whatever. I don't remember his rank, just that he gave orders. He told us his rank and he told us his job during the revolution. Keep in mind that this shit just happened, like, within a year of him telling this story. His job was to tell the armed soldiers guarding some building what to do. The protests were crazy and a few times, yknow, his men got nervous, and he got nervous. He finally ordered the men to fire into the air to scare the crowd back, and so they did and the crowd dispersed. Just a couple days later they were back, and after a bit he had his men fire in the air again and the crowd dispersed and backed up, but slower this time. And sure enough, a day and a half later, they're back. So he has them fire into the air again. But the crowd isn't dispersing. He's telling us about fucking hundreds of people calling his bluff and his superiors were putting pressure on him and then, for whatever reason, he looked ME in the eye, dead in the eye, and said 'So I ordered my men to fire into the crowd.' and the only thing I could think right then in that moment was 'I am so fucking high right now.'"

The room was quiet. This quiet was comically broken with the sound of someone sucking the last icy bit of fountain drink through a straw, and everyone suppressed their laughter until finally Scarlette let hers go. The rest of the room followed suit. The tension broke and Dale, the host, slid over to Scarlette and asked her to pass the Playstation controller. She handed it over and he proceeded to put on some YouTube. Music filled the spaces left by people trickling towards the kitchen where the liquor was.

If you got scratch nigga, get the fuck up Throw your hands up, if you hella fucked up Einstein, tech n9ne, two triple zip Crack a jaw, whip 'em all, if they wanna trip Ladies with the bar codes, meet me after this

Maybe you can show me, the meaning of abyss Everybody on the wall momma is a bzzz Had her at the budgetel stroking on my dzzz This ones for the psychos gang bangers and sluts Bumbs holding the pipe those college graduate fucks

Scarlette stepped out onto the front porch to smoke a cigarette.

As she untangled her ear buds, a second person came outside and lit a clove cigar.

"Sup, Eddie." Scarlette said. She looked at him and noticed his clean cut appearance and his absence of cornrows. "You look nice. Your hair is really short, though. Beard looks good."

"Thanks, clove?" he offered the little black pack over and she saw a lighter and a chillum in it with 3 black wrapped cigars and three little nugs of weed in the cellophane of a cigarette pack burned shut.

"Everything's coming in threes. Nah. I don't want one after that hash."

"Threes?"

"Three cloves. Three nugs. Three days."

"So it's true. You're going to London to live with your dad." replied Eddie.

"Yeah, got the ticket with my Job Corp. money."

"You went for culinary, right? Are you sure they'll take your certification in the U.K.?"

"There's plenty of places that pay under the table. Skill is skill and I have it. I'll start there." she said a little defensively. She didn't like to talk about her reasons for moving, but the truth was, she felt called. London was calling and she was going to answer. She just was.

"I wish you'd reconsider." Eddie said sadly. "Do you at least have some money left after the ticket? Probably just a couple hundred dollars. What if things don't go your way and you end up homeless?"

"I'm sorry, Eddie, but I'm..." she was cut off by a series of gunshots from a few blocks over. "No, seriously! Who the fuck gangbangs on Christmas?"

"Keep it classy, Topeka." Eddie replied. The put out their half smoked deathsticks with reluctance and headed back inside.

Kc mo roll Kc mo roll What do we say to haters off top Haters got beef they thinking we got We gon' get postal if it don't stop You can get ghost or you can get shot

Scarlet sat down on the sofa and looked at her novelty yo-yo/mp3 player she was given as a fare well gift from her Job Corp. friend, Sylvester.

"I wanted to, just, curate and give you the best techno and trap and dubstep playlist ever, but a bunch of shit went down at my house I had to deal with, so I ended up not having time and I was just going to give you the yoyo and let you put on whatever juggalo shit you wanted, but then my buddy gave me acid. While I was peaking, I suddenly decided to work on this list, so I'm just ripping songs off of YouTube based on how they made me trip and, if they didn't make me trip right, it was like there was this lion, this fucking golden ass lion, looking in at me through a door in my chest and it'd growl. I'd feel it growl. It was insane. But I did fill it for you. So, it's all techno. Pretty random. Glitch Mob, Timmy Trumpet, some Diplo. Give it a chance before you delete it all."

She didn't say anything but she'd been seeing a huge lion in her dreams climbing the rocks on top of Echo Cliffs as the sun's rays slanted beneath a great, black stormcloud. Then it would look at her and she'd realize something so shocking it would wake her up but she could never remember what shocked her awake. She rolled her ear buds around the yo-yo and put it back in her bag. She headed into the kitchen to find Eddie.

"No dude," Eddie said, red cup in hand "you should not learn how to crip walk. You shouldn't even say crip walk. Say C-walk. And don't do it."

"Man, I do not, for the life of me, understand why a dance should be off limits. I just don't." said Tommie. "Man, I don't give a fuck, I'm graduated! Oh damn, sup Scarlette!"

"Sup. Shit, I'm graduated, too." she said as she grabbed a cup.

"From Job Corp. Not the same. Come back when you been to college, then law school." Tommy said as he leaned forward and smiled arrogantly.

"Man, chill out you cocky motherfucker. You ain't passed the bar yet. You are not a lawyer yet. You're a juris doctorate having motherfucker. Let Scarlette have hers, man. It takes nothing from you." said Eddie.

Scarlette glared at Tommie and poured herself some soda. She didn't really feel like drinking tonight, not after her mom's drunken bullshit earlier. She was thinking about being home as little as possible until her flight. She had lots of people to visit and say goodbye to, so it felt doable.

London, U.K.

Tears flowed down her face as she picked through what was left of her belongings on the terrace outside her father's flat. Her father's girlfriend, Debra, didn't like Scarlette and exactly one week after Scarlette started her hotel job, Debra planted a chequebook in Scarlette's trunk and claimed it had been stolen. So, without a word, Loren took his daughters belongings and put them outside while she was at work. He'd never been a brave man.

Scarlette made her way down the water-stained concrete stairs, out through the courtyard, and on into the streets. She walked aimlessly, hungry but too cautious to spend anything. She thought of all the groceries she joyously bought for herself just days before. They'd all be eaten up by that treacherous bitch and her lapdog boyfriend. More tears came. She sat on a swing and cried as hard as she'd ever cried.

When she finally stopped, the world stopped with her. It was dead silent. No horns, no machines, no people. She heard herself breathing hard so she knew she wasn't deaf. Suddenly, a great shadow crawled slowly over her from behind. She looked up and saw the buildings, streets, everything, peeled up in a big wave and curling over her. She didn't understand. She didn't think. She ran.

She ducked between pedestrians, having to take great care to avoid them so they'd stop knocking her down. It was like they couldn't see her. She eventually found an alleyway and ran down it. She leaned against the wall to catch her breath. To her left she saw a window, with a man staring out at her, though it wasn't a man exactly. He had sharp features, a pointed beard and ears, and two small horns coming from his forehead. She began running again.

This happened over an over. She'd see something utterly impossible, run away, stop to rest, and see something else. A half man half horse, a dancing tree, a squirrel the size of a medium sized dog holding quill and parchment. She couldn't run anymore, but she pushed herself down a narrow corridor back to the street where she saw a boarding bus. She barely made it, almost payed the fare til she realized she still couldn't be seen, found a seat and hoped to not get sat on.

After sneaking onto busses for a while, she found herself near the center of the city. She realized how tired she was. Thoughts of food again tormented her, til she finally got off the bus to track down some fish and chips to steal. She walked with purpose and rounded a corner to come face to foot with a giant. She whimpered as she began running again.

She ran across a vacant lot and saw a tree sprout, grow big and robust, fill with apples, the split in two and decay right in her path. She tried to go around and felt her foot snared by an ancient prehensile root. She struggled as she found herself falling down a sinkhole. She felt dirt in her mouth as the Earth swallowed her and her screams. Roots scratched her face and arms. Soon she felt light through her eyelids and felt leaves along with branches. She was still falling. No matter how she tried, she couldn't keep hold of any branches. It was all she could do to cushion each collision with each ever larger branch. All too soon, she ran out of branches. She fell a whole story and a half and landed on a small boulder jutting from the flowing roots that gripped the ground with her shin taking all of her weight. She both felt and heard her bone snap and, with a wet pop, rip through the skin. She was on hands and knees. She didn't feel anything until she foolishly tried to stand. That's when the world spun out of control. She stumbled to the ground; the pain in her leg was so intense she could almost hear it. She vomited and collapsed into unconsciousness.

Not far from her, in the brush, waited a watching satyr. He nimbly negotiated through the tangled roots of the great old tree and picked up Scarlette's bag. He looked around where he saw objects from her bag fall with her and gathered what he hoped was everything. He briefly examined the contents. He picked up her phone, thinking it was a very dark mirror for scrying, and he almost let out a yelp when the screen lit up. He put it back and donned her purse with the strap across his chest, leaned down, and lifted Scarlette up in a dead man's carry. He was a simple satyr who only did simple magic, but he knew great magic when he saw it, and he knew the High King at Cair Paravel would want to make this his business.

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