#i ended up at a big watch party in bowling green and not a single person was selling shirts!!! i should have gotten my own ahead of time.

[elvenking42]

Kiiiind of sad that I didn't go through the effort of buying myself a tacky eclipse shirt. I really should have, it was one of my favorite things I've done all year 🥺

[sailorhyunjinz]

~𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 ~

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 ; hyunjin x fem!reader, SMUT!! childhood!bestfriends, in vino veritas, sex under influence, summer!au, uni!au, drunken confession, (not really) mutual pining, explicit language, piv, unprotected sex (once again, a bad example! don’t forget the raincap in the storm), riding, kinda vanilla sex, uuuh,,, corruption kink if you squint, orgasm (m/f), cum, muffled moaning? (that is not the correct term but lets go with that)

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 ; 2.8 k 

𝘙𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 ; ye ye thank u anon!! <3

𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦 ; lmao i know he has dark hair in the picture but just imagine that he’s blonde aight also damnit wtf happened to that edge of the header picture aaah,,, im no editor u guys- also once again, the fucking title has nothing to do with the story, i just felt like it

holy shit now i understand why i dont write vanilla sex or like slow stuff,,, because it pains me with cringe- or maybe i get flustered,,, 

29. “Maybe I would like you better if you took off your clothes” ; The 1975 - If you’re too shy (Let me know)

𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥.

𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 18.

Hwang Hyunjin.

You liked him in every type of way. You even liked the way his name rolled of your tongue like some kind of sweet mantra. You would have confessed if only he wasn’t your childhood best friend. 

“y/n! ready to parteeey?” he yelled across the crosswalk, holding up a slightly dirty tan canvas bag, the bottles of cold liquor clinking against each other as he moved, the green man lighting up on the red stoplight. His high platform sneakers moved swiftly against the white striped concrete, making his way over to you and stretching out his arms, catching you in an embrace when he finally crossed the road.

“i see you brought drinks even if it’s only a casual sleepover” you chuckled, patting him on the back as you pulled away, walking towards the direction of your house in the scorching summer evening. 

“of course, who said you couldn’t have a party with two people?” he answered back, slightly embarrassed by the way the bottles hit each other, causing other pedistrians to turn their heads. You shrugged your shoulders, looking at him as you walked closeby his side, admiring his profile and the way his blonde long locks were pushed behinds his ears, exposing his cute studded earrings. He turned his head, gazing at you to which you quickly diverted your eyes towards the ground below your feet, hearing Hyunjin giggle from your antics. 

“how’s your mom? she doing good?” he asked after walking a couple of meters, holding the bag in one hand and his phone in the other one. 

“yeah! but why do you ask? you literally messaged her yesterday” you smiled to which Hyunjin hummed, pouting and shrugging. 

“because she’s like my best friend,,, duh?” he chuckled, poking you playfully at the side of your tummy causing you to flinch away, you being rather ticklish. 

“hey! you can’t just make my mom your bestie, tsk,, stealing away my mom like that” you said, laughing in between words and noticing that the two of you were soon standing infront of your house door, the kitchen and living room window radiating warm yellow light and a silhouette moving behind the dark curtains. You retreived the keys that were in the pockets of your shorts, something you threw on quickly to go meet Hyunjin even though he knew the way to your house. It was just an excuse to be with him a bit longer. 

You put the keys in the lock, jumbling around as Hyunjin looked at you with glossy dark brown eyes, holding the bag with two hands in front of his knees. The door opened and the light shined on you, illuminating the front yard that was getting dark as the sun was setting. The two of you stepped in, removing your shoes and hearing Hyunjin place the bag down on the cold tile flooring moments before your mother walked out of the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn. 

“Oh hello Hyunjin! How’s school?” She asked, placing 3 pieces of popcorn in her mouth and chewing, her jaw moving from side to side. 

“Uni is going great, stressful but y/n helps me,,, kinda” he chuckled, scratching the back of his head and looking down at the ground, you playfully hitting him on his upper arm. Your mom smiled at the two of you.

“Don’t stay up too late!” she yelled as she made her way to the living room where your dad was lounging on the sofa with a cold beer in his hands, watching a game of football. 

“We won’t mom!” you yelled back, grabbing Hyunjin’s bag and waving your hand, signaling for him to follow you to your bedroom. He tiptoed carefully, not wanting to knock something down even though he’s slept over at yours well over a thousand times since your early childhood but still, it was in Hyunjin’s nature to be gentle and timid at first glance, another reason as to why you liked him so much. 

Your bedroom was nothing out of the ordinary. White walls filled with various trinkets, family photos decorating them. Your bed was big enough to fit two but you had a sleeping bag in the corner of the room from just how often Hyunjin would crash at your place. There was not much more besides a cluttered desk, your single bed and a carpet along with a white drawer and a mirror. You plopped down on the bed, feeling the soft material against your exposed calfs. Hyunjin knew what to do, grabbing and unfolding the sleeping bag before emptying the contents of his beige bag, multiple bottles of beer and cider along with a small bottle of pure vodka.

“Why the fuck did you bring vodka? You know my parents are gonna kill me if they find this in my room” you sneered, rolling your eyes at the boy that was sitting on the bedroom floor, mischievously looking up at you. 

“y/n you’re in uni, what are they gonna do? ground you?” you shook your head. 

“Yeah? or kick me out of the house” you persisted, tilting your head as Hyunjin looked around the room in search for a bottle opener. 

“Says the girl that puked behind a slide” he laughed to which you kicked him, causing him to fall over and you getting the final laugh. 

“I’m gonna go grab some snacks and a bottle opener since you’re too weak to open them” you tsked, heading towards the door and turning the doorknob.

“ppft,,, too weak” you heard Hyunjin complain as you exited the room, small steps making their way to the kitchen. You flipped the light switch, the grey lamp hanging from the ceiling, you witnessing the messy dishes from dinner earlier. You opened the dark brown cabinet where you usually stored your snacks, grabbing two packets of crisps and rummaging through the smaller cabinet that was home for the multitude of kitchen supplies your dad and mom like to collect. You found one, decorated with some picture of a sea, probably from one of dads business trips you thought, closing the cabinets and turning off the light, stepping back to your bedroom. 

“Here” you said, throwing the metal opener towards the blonde boy that was mindlessly scrolling on his phone, lying sprawled out on the carpet. Hyunjin dramatically clutched his stomach, acting as if he’s been hit with a boulder to which you scoffed, sitting down next to him on the floor and opening the first bag of crisps and being once again disappointed by the air to chip ratio. 

Hyunjin opened two bottles of beer, handing one over to you which you happily received, putting the slightly cold edge against your hot lips and drinking the bitter liquid, feeling it burn a bit in your throat but soothe it in this summers heat. Your face contorted into disgust, looking on the rather dodgy blue lable that was peeling a bit on the edges. You looked over to Hyunjin that was making a similar expression to yours, his nose sqrunching in that cute manner it always did. 

“aren’t we both like,,, too easily influenced?” he said quietly as you stood up, retrieving your computer to put on a movie. You nodded, giggling when you sat back down and placed the computer on the floor, typing something on your computer and pointing towards the screen.

“this one or,,,, this one?” you said to which Hyunjin pointed at the latter, knowing he would pick the animated movie, him being childish as he is. 

An hour passed and at this point the two of you were tipsy, multiple bottles making their presence known by standing beside you, all emptied to the last drop. The alcohol was flushing Hyunjin’s cheeks, tinging them with a light red along with the tips of his ears, your hearts thumping from how dangerously close his hand was to yours. You were starting to get tired, probably drowsy from the alcohol you thought as you layed down to which Hyunjin reacted, patting his lap.

“Put your head here, why put it on the floor?” he chuckled, his words slurring slightly. You froze, comtemplating on whether or not you should do it or if your heart could even manage being in contact with him. You cleared your throat, trying to get back to your senses. He was your childhood best friend for fuck sake. Shyly you put your head on his thigh, still watching the movie and trying to focus on what was happening on the screen but being completely lost in your own lewd thoughts, wondering how his soft lips would feel brushing up against yours, ctaching you in a hasty kiss. You sighed as the end credits rolled, seeing Hyunjin’s angular face reflecting on the screen and his gaze catching yours on the reflective monitor. Both of you burst out in laughter, the substances intoxicaing you into a laughing fit. You sat up again, pushing him by the shoulder and causing him to fall over with his arms stretched out to the sides, you falling closely to him and using his forearm as a headrest. 

“y/n, have you ever liked me?”

You gulped. Was it that apparent? You shook your head, mumbling a quiet “no” to which Hyunjin giggled, his chest heaving up and down. He messed with his blonde hair, pushing it back and furrowing his eyesbrows before relaxing his facial features, closing his eyes softly.

“i like you but maybe i would like you better if you took off your clothes”

You choked on your own spit, sitting up and patting yourself on the chest. It was unlike Hyunjin to speak this bluntly, especially about such suggesstive topics. He laughed at your reaction, acting as if he hadn’t just made you choke with only his words. After the initial shock set in you decided to play smart, if he was being oblivious so would you. You looked back at the blonde boy that still had his eyes closed, smirking and with a tone interlaced with pure erotic connotations you said;

“yeah? and if I did take off my clothes, what would you do?” you giggled back at him, feeling a warm flash of heat zap through your body and ultimately landing in your dripping core. Hyunjin’s eyes sprung open, the corners of his mouth curling upwards into a exuberant smirk. A million thoughts ran through Hyunjin’s mind. Should he continue the little game he had started or end it all now in order to save your friendship? But maybe ruining your friendship was exactly what he needed or more like what you needed.

The tall boy sat up, pulling you by your wrist and quickly pursing his cherry red lips, clashing them against the surface of your gently chapped pout. You thought you melted right then and there, taking in the scent of the boy you never invisioned yourself kissing but here you were, your lips pressed up against his. He grabbed your hand, encasing yours in his and feeling the warmth radiating from your nervous state. With a slight tilt of the head, Hyunjin could reach deeper inside your mouth, tracing his tongue over yours and pursing his lips causing a smooching sound to escape. Your felt his hot breath stroking your heated cheek, sending shivers down your spine. 

“a-are you ok, y/n? I’m s-sorry!” he said, pulling away and hiccuping after finishing his sentence. You shook your head, giggling which caught Hyunjin by surprise. You were ecstatic. 

“please kiss me Hyunjin, i’ve been wanting you so bad” you mumbled, Hyunjin’s jaw clenching in confusion. 

“me? i want you!” he said, laughing at your seriousness causing you to crack a smile, pushing him down on the floor and slamming the computer shut, the background track of the movie disappering. Now only the sound of the loud TV downstairs was heard along with your lips pecking Hyunjin’s. You hovered above the boy, your hands on either side of him. You felt your wet cunt aching for him, you wanted him inside of you and it seemed like you weren’t the only excited one, Hyunjin’s bulge growing bigger with every caress of his body. Your hands snaked down to the zipper of his ripped jeans, with a steady hand unzipping and unbuttoning, wanting to free him from his clothed prison that was keeping you from him. 

“Eager or something?” Hyunjin tsked, trailing kisses along your jawline and neck. You didn’t answer his stupid question. Of course you were eager, this was what you had dreamed of for years. This was what played out in every single wet dream you ever had. This was what occupied your mind when nothing else mattered. It was him. Hwang Hyunjin. 

Hyunjin bucked his hips upwards, granting you the honor to pull down his pants and boxers in a brisk motion which you happily took. His cock sprung free, leaking with precum embarrassingly enough causing you to snicker. Could the sight of his best friend make him this horny? You quickly moved aside from Hyunjin’s figure in order to free yourself from your shorts and white lace panties. The blonde boy was in a dilemma. He liked you,,, a lot, but you were his best friend. Was it worth risking a friendship for sex and maybe even something else?

Your answer was yes. Yes if it was Hyunjin. 

You straddled Hyunjin’s thigh, balancing on your knees and placing your hands firmly on his hard abdomen, positioning your hungry hole above his dick, the slit being decorated with a shining pearl of precum. Hyunjin’s eyes were closed in anticipation, his hands trying to grab onto the carpet on the floor, clawing at the material.

“you good? ready?” you asked in worry, thinking maybe he was uncomfortable. 

Hyunjin shook his head in agreement. He was nervous. If he opened his eyes he could cum by just the lewd sight of your pussy about to swallow his dick whole. He was adorable being this shy, always acting innocent but not really living up to that standard, at least not in this moment. You slowly sink down on his erect cock, Hyunjin letting out a hiss at the same time you gasped, slapping a hand over your mouth in order to not be too loud. The boy was stretching you out to the brink of completion, it was impossible to bottom out from the sheer size of his throbbing cock. Hyunjin turned his head side to side, his cheek coming in contact with the cold floor. He looked in pain, his forehead furrowing but he reassured you that it felt good, maybe even too good. Your gently bounced up and down his cock, with each thrust earning another groan from the panting boy. Seeing him lost in pleasure made your core burn with arousal, needing to chase your impending orgasm. The boy slowly opened his eyes, peeking at you rocking backwards and forwards on his cock, biting your lip and tracing your hands along his abdomen underneath his shirt. 

“d-does it feel good?” he asked in a dazed voice, striking a half smile as he moved his hands to your waist, simply resting them there. You nodded, lulling your head backwards, your tits bouncing underneath the fabric of your oversized t-shirt, hardened nipples poking through. Hyunjin drooled at the sight and the sensations. He had longed for this just as much as you had. Hyunjin’s hands trailed up your shirt, wrapping his hands around your boobs and harshly kneading them, the pads of his thumb gliding over your nipples. You shuddered, clenching around his cock, Hyunjin’s eyes shut tightly and his toes curling from the sensation of balancing on a pinnacle, tumbling into his orgasm. He couldn’t control his words, whispering your name out like a mantra along with the words “i love you”. Those were words you didn’t hear him say often. 

The feeling of his hot cum oozing between your velvety walls got you holding onto Hyunjin’s shirt for life, his hand gently placed over your parted lips that continusly spilled with whimpers and pleas. You looked at Hyunjin with lost eyes, your pace slowling down as you rode out your orgasm, thighs shaking involuntarily, giving up beneath you. Hyunjin lifted slightly by your hips, you pulling off him and with a thud rolled over on your back, laying next to him on the floor. The room filled with heavy breathing, sweaty bodies trying to find composure after the rather interesting orgasm. All your thoughts were in once big mush, hindering you from forming a sentence. 

“What now?” Hyunjin said in a sleepy manner, rolling over to his side and hugging you awkwardly. You didn’t know. All you knew that you wanted him. You were hoping he would become yours. More than once. 

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part I

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.7k Warnings: dubious consent (because of alcohol), just copious amounts of sex, oral, squirting, 69ing, college shenanigans, obnoxious frat boys, terrible fashion choices A/N: At long last, here we have the beginning. Massive thanks to @pleasantanathema and @whats-her-quirk​ who have been cheering for me since I told them I wanted to right a “little college AU” for a “little collab” June and I have been planning for a while. Also, I don’t know where I’d be without Lauren’s fraternity knowledge, so extra thanks for that, babe. I hope everyone has as much fun with this fic as I did.

God, you hate frat boys. 

Their sense of entitlement, all their fucking house pride. Brother this, brother that. It's annoying. Add in the factors of being an athlete on top of it, and they're downright insufferable. 

So it makes absolutely no sense that you're at a fucking Pi Kappa Alpha party. 

Your friend, Hitch, dragged you here (naturally), and it wasn't like you could really object considering she's the only real friend you have on campus. You study together and switch off between dorms to watch movies and bitch about classes. She's the complete opposite of you in many different ways, but you soul-bonded over biology and that was that. 

Unfortunately, Hitch decided she would leave you to your own devices almost immediately, opting to skip over to a game of beer pong and flirt with a boy in her statistics class. You have no idea why considering he has a fucking bowl cut, but she's been talking about him for weeks now. 

The party is filled with loud music and too many people with red solo cups. There's no way they're all of age, so you're already paranoid that the cops are gonna raid the place, but there's nothing you can do besides leave. It's a tempting thought. 

Before you can, though, there's an uproar in the kitchen, and curiosity gets the best of you. Moving from your place against the wall, you make your way over to peek in and see what's going on. A large group of frat boys, what you think are sorority girls, and whoever else wants to join are raising their cups to cheer. An especially loud voice rings out above the rest, "One win down, eleven more to go!" 

Claps and supportive shouts are nearly deafening. 

"I think we can do it! Do you think we can do it?" 

More cheers, more hollers. 

"Let's hear it for UC lacrosse!" 

You have to cover your ears this time. Should have known this party was to celebrate the win earlier that day. 

When the crowd parts, you see the ringleader, Erwin Smith who is very well-known on campus for three reasons: he will talk your ear off about history if given the chance, he's irritatingly gorgeous, and he will fuck any pretty girl with a pulse. 

Again—you fucking hate frat boys. 

To ease your bad mood and possibly encourage you to have some semblance of a good time, you shuffle further into the kitchen to grab a drink. You feel a little exposed, not dressed like many of the other girls who are either in rompers or the classic sorority chick outfit (giant college shirts that cover their shorts). You are in a crop top, torn shorts, and a floral cardigan. Not your best outfit, not your worst. 

There's no way you're touching any of the pre-poured cups or the jungle juice, opting for an unopened can of mediocre beer. 

You feel someone approach you from behind, glance over your shoulder to see nothing but a broad chest covered by a fucking hawaiian shirt. 

Craning your neck, you're met with another familiar face, one Mike Zacharias known as 1) Erwin's best friend, 2) one of the tallest guys on campus, and 3) the best lacrosse player on the team. 

You haven't spoken a single word to him but that doesn't stop him from grinning at you, flipping shaggy hair from his face, and chanting a low, "Shotgun, shotgun, shotgun!" 

"Are you god damn joking me?" You ask with a raised eyebrow. 

"Hell no!" 

"I have shotgunned a beer literally once in my life, and at least half of it ended up on my shirt."

"That's alright," Mike's smile shrinks to a smirk. "We're all about getting chicks wet in Pike." 

Face falling, you scoff, "Yeah, okay, I'm leaving." 

You sidestep him, cracking open the beer, but he follows close behind you. It makes a little bit of fear spike in your gut—everyone knows the horror stories that accompany many fraternities—but you're mostly just annoyed. 

"Hey, what's your name again?"

Again. As if you've actually formally met before.

"Why do you care?" 

Mike does not hesitate when he answers, "'Cause you look like you're having a shit time here, and I'd like to change that."

You roll your eyes, let your head loll over your shoulder to look at him again. If you're being honest with yourself, he's kind of extremely hot with his undercut and flippy hair, not to mention the stubble that's grown out just enough to make you think thoughts for a split second.  

"A noble cause," you quip. "Truly." 

He chuckles, watching too closely as you take a sip of your beer. 

"So? Name?"

After too big of a swallow, you answer him, and light green eyes brighten a little. 

"Oh, you're Hitch's friend, right?" 

Of course that would be your only identifier on campus. Hitch is insanely pretty and very outgoing. It makes sense that people just know you as her tag-along. 

It doesn't stop you from feeling slightly offended, though. 

"Yeah, and you're Erwin's friend, right?" 

"Among other things," he snorts. "Mike Zacharias." He holds out a massive hand that you eye before taking, figure you shouldn't be too much of a bitch and make a bad impression on the most highly regarded frat at the college.  

"I know who you are, dude. Not many people don't."

"Aw, flatterer." 

That grin is back on his face, lopsided and far too charming, and you definitely need to get away from him before you down a couple more beers. 

"Freshman?" He pries, and somehow you wind up at the staircase, leaning against the wall and praying he'll just stand beside you instead of caging you in. 

He does, and you let out a breath of relief. 

"Sophomore."

His eyebrows shoot up for a second. "Fuck, you've made it through a whole year flying under my radar?" 

You give him a wholly unimpressed look. "Wow, you really know what to say to a girl, don't you?" 

"That came off as shitty, sorry. I just mean, like, you're super cute. Feel like I would have committed you to memory if I'd seen you."

Your face heats up probably more than it ever has in your life, but you still snap, "We haven't had a single class together, I never go to your games, and this is the first Pike party I've been to."

Mike nods. "Ah, that explains it. Just haven't given anyone a chance to notice you." 

"Sure, let's go with that."

Another several sips. You hiss at the taste, and Mike laughs. 

"Can't handle beer?"

"Can't handle shitty beer."

"Ouch. Want me to grab you something else?"

He really doesn't seem to understand the warnings all girls have heard over the years. That, or he just doesn't care. You don't know him well enough to pass that kind of judgement.

"Uh, no. I always make my own drinks at parties."

"That's understandable." Except it isn't. He doesn't have a clue. 

"Well, you can go grab one, and I'll just finish this one for you. Don't want it to go to waste."

It's your turn to smirk now. "That desperate to swap spit, Zacharias?" 

"Like this?" He laughs through his nose. "Nah. But I can think of other ways."

"We've been talking for literally two minutes."

"I'm perfectly capable of making decisions in two minutes."

"Not any good ones obviously."

Tilting his head, Mike thinks out loud, "Can't tell if that's an insult aimed at me or yourself." 

"Take it however you want. I don't really care."

His eyes glint with amusement. There's no way you're escaping this any time soon. 

Long, thick fingers close around the top of your can, and he gently tugs it out of your hand then keeps those eyes locked with yours as he takes a sip. 

"Gross." You try to keep the teasing tone from your voice. 

"Just go get another drink."

You actually listen, mostly to get away from him but also because you could go for something easier to stomach. 

A game of King's Cup is going on in the kitchen, a five obviously being drawn because everyone suddenly pantomimes holding a steering wheel. It's surprisingly fun to watch, so you post up next to the counter after mixing orange and pineapple juice with rum. 

"Four's whores!"

"Categories! Different beers!"

"Seven heaven!" 

"Ayyy, waterfall!" 

You shake your head as everyone drinks for way too long. Some people are already swaying in circles where they're sitting. Others are simply red-faced. 

"Wanna play?"

"Jesus! You came outta nowhere."

Mike looks too smug for your liking, but doesn't say anything, just crushes the empty can in his hand and throws it into the trashcan next to the back door, all gooseneck and perfect arch. 

"Let me guess—you're reigning champ at beer pong."

"Nah," he waves you off. "That's Erwin and Nile. King's Cup however…"

"King's Cup isn't even a competition. It's just flipping cards and getting fucked up." 

"Well, yeah, but it's still fun."

You let out a heavy sigh, eyes still trained on the game going on, then concede, "Once this one is over, I'll play. Just to get you off my back." And because he won't have the chance to talk to you for the duration of the game. 

"Excellent."

You manage to finish your drink by the time the round ends, have to rush to make another as Mike strides over to the table and steals the two seats that have been vacated. They're right across from each other. You don't know if you'd prefer that or just sitting next to him so he can't stare at you.

Sauntering over, you plop down and place your drink in front of you. The guy to your right is quick to introduce himself with hooded eyes and a self-assured smile. You give him basically the same treatment that you've been giving Mike, making him pout and turn away as a freckled girl deals out the cards. 

It's fast paced, and you find yourself drinking more than you'd planned. Mike picks you as his buddy (of course), and the guy next to you makes everyone drink for nearly thirty seconds straight when he pulls an ace. 

Still, you find yourself laughing as people scream and curse. You catch eyes with Mike often, and as you finish your second drink, he begins looking very attractive. More attractive than before. So attractive that you allow him to pour your third cup. 

"If you roofied this, I'm gonna be real upset with you," you tell him just before taking a sip. He added more rum than you did, but that doesn't surprise you. 

"Hey, one of Pike's virtues is being a gentleman."

As soon as he says it, about seven people around the table shout, "Pi Kappa Alpha!" like some kind of sports team, and you roll your eyes so hard it hurts. 

You're drunk after this game. And, then you make another drink and get plastered. Meandering around the rest of the party, bodies begin to blur together, the music fades in and out, and you barely know what you're saying to Mike anymore as he follows you close behind in the same state. For every drink you've had, he's had two, and now he's walking around with a cup full of jungle juice nodding at his brothers, smiling at all the girls who look at him.

His room is downstairs unlike most of the others, right at the end of the hallway. It makes it far too easy to end up inside, but as soon as the door closes and his huge hands find your hips, your world disappears entirely. 

*

The first thing you feel when you wake up is a nauseating pounding in your head. The second is a very large body behind you. 

God dammit, you think, trying to recall the events of the night before. 

Pi Kappa Alpha. Hitch left you, so you hung out with… Mike Zacharias? From the lacrosse team? 

Frowning, you try to look over your shoulder, but all you can really see is a head of hair. However, you can feel the coarseness of his beard against your bare shoulder, and that's enough to solidify that it is indeed Mike behind you. 

Shifting some brings more of your physical state to your attention—your naked chest under the blanket, the way your legs are pressed together, your pussy between your thighs… swollen? Jesus, what did he do to you last night? You can also feel something dry and crusty on your stomach which is both disgusting and relieving. At least he had enough sense to pull out. 

Luckily, his arm isn't wrapped around you which makes it much easier to sit up on your elbow. It takes you a while to locate your clothes around the room from where you are, and even then, all you can find are your shorts, shoes, and bra. You peer around, trying not to groan at the headache threatening to make you black the fuck out all over again, but that pounding as well as the nauseating churning of your stomach is making it difficult. 

You slide out of the bed, basically crawling to the little pile of discarded clothes. As you fumble with fastening your bra, you glance around one more time in search of your shirt and cardigan, but it’s no use. What you do see, however, is the obnoxious Hawaiian shirt  Mike had been wearing the night before, and well… You’d rather not leave the Pike house topless, so…

Snatching it off the floor, you slip your arms through the giant sleeves and somehow manage to button up about half of it. Then, you’re flying out the door, desperate to be in your own dorm, curled over your own toilet, in your own clothes. 

Oh, thank god his room wasn’t upstairs, you praise, trying to remember the way to the front door. There are numerous bodies and tipped over cups to navigate through, and you cringe at the various odors that assault your senses. 

You see the door from across the room, so close and getting closer as you try not to trip over anything, but as you pass the kitchen, you hear a smooth, familiar voice greet, “Good morning,” in a smug way. 

Erwin is leaning against a counter, smirking over a steaming cup of coffee. He’s wearing only sweatpants, his hair is a little mussed, and for a split second, you understand why he pulls so many girls. 

Still, you roll your eyes and continue moving—a classic DNE situation, but the frat boy doesn’t seem to get the message, instead calling out, “Nice shirt!”

“Fuck off, Smith,” is the only thing you utter before leaving, slamming the door behind you. 

*

Mike easily catches the frisbee that spins directly at his face then quickly throws it back to try and catch Nile off guard. It works, and the brunet curses and has to go running after the flying disc. 

A few girls watching from the nearby fountain clap and yell his name, wriggling fingers in a wave as if he can actually see that far away. Mike gives one wave of his own hand then turns back to the grass where Nile is jogging back to his place.

“You did that on purpose, you asshole!” He spits.

Mike shrugs his shoulders, yells back, “Get better at frisbee, and you won’t have this problem!”

Nile throws the plastic so hard that it flies off toward the fountain, making all those girls scream and dive for cover. 

“Yeah, I’m not getting that,” Mike shakes his head. Nile drags his fingers down his angular face before setting off on yet another trek, apologizing profusely then standing around to flirt like usual.

Blowing hair out of his face, Mike considers joining his brother, but before he can, he sees a familiar figure turning on the sidewalk, about to pass the fountain and head toward Hartley Hall. 

His feet are moving before he really registers it, glad his long legs can carry him quickly even at a walk. Mike calls out when he’s a couple yards away, and you turn to him, eyes growing wide before you start to move faster. 

He can just barely make out the words, “Nope. Not doing this,” and chuckles, catching up the rest of the way.

“Hey, chill, I just wanna talk.”

You turn to look at him, head tilted up, squinting against the sun, and Mike has never been more thankful for his height because you look so god damn cute all small and irritated with him. 

“What is there to talk about? I don’t even remember anything.”

“Yeah, neither do I,” he says, lacing fingers together behind his head. “Shame.”

“Whatever.”

Mike tries and fails to hide a snort, nods at Nile as you both pass him and the gaggle of girls surrounding him. Mike has no doubt his friend will get at least one phone number out of it, if not all of them. 

“Did you at least have a good time before you blacked out?” He ventures.

You shrug your shoulders, hitch your backpack up a little higher. “Maybe. But, if I was just around you the whole time, probably not.”

“Aw, come on! What did I ever do to you?”

“You need a list?”

Mike nods. “Would probably help.”

“For brevity's sake, I’ll just say that you started the night trying to get a literal stranger to shotgun a beer and ended the night fucking said stranger and… Not holding back, apparently.” Mike frowns, about to ask what you mean by that, but you elaborate before he can. Voice dropping, you question, “Do you have any idea how fucking sore I’ve been for the last few days? What the fuck do you even have hidden in those stupid shorts?”

“I’d be happy to show you again.” He grins sideways, and when you shoot him a venomous look, he figures it’s time to change the subject. “Anyway, I may have done that and more, but you’re the thief.”

“Excuse me?”

Mike tries to sound nonchalant as he accuses, “Stole my shirt and everything." Honestly, he's a little upset that he didn’t actually get to see you wearing it. 

“I—”

“That’s my favorite shirt, you know?”

You laugh. Finally. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“That shirt is fucking heinous, okay? You’re lucky I didn’t burn it.”

“Does that mean I can have it back?”

You make a little noise in your throat, something between a grumble and a growl, but you check your phone and tell him, “Fine. My next class isn’t for another couple of hours, so just…Follow me.”

It takes immense effort to not skip to your dorm like a little kid, but Mike is excited. He’s not gonna try anything weird, but just seeing your space? He’ll be able to get a better feel for you. So far, all he knows is that you live and breathe sarcasm and can’t handle your liquor well. It’s enough to get him a little more than interested, but it’s not enough to go off of.

The two of you gain a few looks as you make your way through the shared study space of the dormitory, heads turning, eyebrows raising in recognition. No one should be all that surprised; it’s not like Mike and Erwin haven’t frequented a lot of these rooms. 

You lead him down a hallway, and Mike looks at all the little dry-erase intro boards hanging outside of every door. He’s a little surprised to see that the one by yours isn’t blank. Your name is written in bubble letters, surrounded by little hearts, and when you catch him looking at it, you’re quick to tell him, “Hitch.”

“Ah. Of course.”

He follows you inside, staying by the door to not invade too much of your space, but he doesn’t even try to be subtle as he looks around the small room. Pennant for the college hung up over a cork bulletin board that’s a mess of photos and sticky notes. Cluttered desk with just enough of it cleared to fit a laptop. Tiny succulents on the window sill. Double bed covered in a quilt. And there, in the open closet, Mike catches sight of his shirt—pastel pink and littered with palm trees. 

After dropping your backpack on your bed, you step over to the hanging clothes and grab it, muttering, “Ridiculous,” as you hand it over.

Mike laughs as he slings it over his shoulder. “You know what’ll make you hate it even more?” You quirk an eyebrow, probably doubting that anything could, but your entire face falls when he informs you, “I have matching shorts to go with it.”

“No you do not.”

“Definitely do.”

“That should be a crime. You should be arrested.”

He chuckles, has a retort on the tip of his tongue, but something catches his eye—a bookshelf tucked away in the corner by your bed overflowing with novels and knick-knacks. Mike sees a particularly thick paperback, recognizing the black background and small desert picture on the spine.

“Bro!” He walks over, plants a hand in the middle of your mattress, and reaches for it. “Is this fucking Dune?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“This is, like, my favorite book, dude.”

“Seriously?” You sound just as disbelieving as you do disinterested. 

Mike begins flipping through it, scanning over highlighted passages as he nods. “I have the whole series back home, but I only brought this one and Messiah with me to college.”

He straightens up but keeps a knee on the edge of the bed, and you plop down to sit on it, watching him closely as he continues to look over the notes scribbled in the margins. 

“I had to read it in high school," you tell him. "Then my cousin gave me a lot of the books after I talked with him about it one time. I haven’t gotten around to reading them, though.”

“You really should,” Mike urges. “I mean, I know you probably have a shit ton of reading for classes, but if you ever get the chance, you should at least read the next two.”

“You some kind of closet nerd, Zacharias?”

“Kinda,” he admits, putting the book back on the shelf only to grab a worn copy of Fellowship of the Ring. “I mean, Erwin and a few others are well aware, but I don’t really broadcast it.”

“Not good for the cool guy image?” 

“Nah, people are just more interested in other things,” he mumbles, eyes fixed on the tiny print.

“Mike Zacharias,” his gaze flicks to you as you laugh quietly. “Lacrosse god and big fucking geek.”

He closes the book and uses it to lightly hit you on the top of the head with it. You half-heartedly smack him right in his abs only to push against the muscle harder and ask, “Jesus Christ, what do you have under there?”

“You know, that’s the second time you’ve asked what I have under my clothes,” he points out, a little too satisfied. “Better watch out, or I’m gonna start getting ideas.”

You huff, but your hand is definitely still on his stomach, unmoving but warm through his shirt. Mike told himself he wouldn’t do anything weird once he got here, but you’re already on the bed and touching him, and he’d kind of really like to have this particular experience while sober, so he very slowly takes your wrist and moves it away. 

It makes you look up at him, a question dancing in your eyes as your lips part. Mike makes sure his own stare conveys everything he’s thinking, wishes he could just transplant his thoughts into your brain so that he can put you a little more at ease around him. 

You’re onto him, though, tugging your hand from his grip and blinking a few times. He figures you’re about to point to the door and tell him to take his fucking Hawaiian shirt and leave. 

Instead, you pull on the fabric covering his ribs so that he loses his balance and has to catch himself before crashing into you. It puts his face level with yours, and you take the opportunity to kiss him—hard, desperate, and a little confused judging by the way you’re frowning. 

Mike grunts, holding himself up with the arm on the side of your hips then uses the other to slide under the thigh closest to him and pull you further onto the bed. He’s straddling you in no time, up on his knees so that he doesn’t crush you. 

Hearing the sound of shoes hitting the ground, he tugs his shirt off over his head, and then he’s curling over you again. Your mouths grow slick with spit. He slides his tongue past your lips, and you arch into him, fingers tangling in his hair. Mike pushes you back down so that he can strip you down to your bra and panties then takes the time to rid himself of his shoes and shorts.

“Oh, fuck,” he hears you breathe, and when he glances up at you, he finds you staring at what he knows is an intimidatingly large bulge under his boxer briefs. “It makes sense now—the soreness.”

Mike chuckles, slots his forearms on either side of your head and mutters, “Yeah, sorry about that.”

You lick his lips and he bites yours, bodies clashing together as he grinds himself against your covered pussy. Eventually Mike is able to snake a hand down your body, making sure to brush over your ribs so that you squirm beneath him. Fuck, he already loves the way you squirm. And, when he moves your panties to the side and teases your little hole, already wet just from making out, Mike discovers that he loves the way you moan too. 

He’s slow as he pushes a finger in, groaning when you clench around it. Pumping it in and out, he gently works you open and wonders if he was courteous enough to do this the other night. He hopes he was. 

You spread your legs for him, start bucking into his hand, especially when he hits that special spot inside you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fu—” You grab his face, bringing it close to yours again so that you can muffle curses against his lips. 

When Mike adds a second finger, your jaw drops, and you start to tremble. 

“Too much?” He asks.

You shake your head, stutter a breathy, “N-no. Just—ah—slow. Go slow.”

He moves to suck on your neck, promising, “I will.”

Mike waits until you’re dripping into his palm and spread about as widely as you can be underneath him. Then, and only then does he shimmy out of his underwear and question, “Condom?”

“Bookshelf,” you huff. “In the jewelry box.”

When he opens it, a little ballerina spins, and Mike has to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. “That’s twisted.”

“Shut up.”

He grabs one of the gold packages and tears it open, then rolls the latex over his cock and discards the wrapper somewhere. 

Mike only gives you his tip first, sits right inside your entrance so that you can squeeze him and get used to the feeling before he pushes in any more. You barely shift your hips back and forth, like an experiment. It’s just enough for Mike to see slick coating the end of the condom, and he nearly starts drooling.

He presses in a little more, appreciates the way your eyes roll into the back of your head, then adds one more inch.

“Jesus Christ.” Your breaths are coming in short gasps, words slurring together. He’s not even halfway in, and you’re already fucked out. 

Your cunt is spasming around him, and Mike tries to get you to relax more by lightly rubbing your clit with the pad of his thumb. 

You leak around him, pussy slowly but surely opening up a little more so that he can slide in further. He gives a few shallow thrusts that make you whine, then reaches up to grab one of your pillows which only sends him deeper. 

“God dam—”

Mike lifts you and shoves the pillow under your hips, smiles in a way he’s pretty sure you hate, then jokes, “Better to fuck you with, my dear.”

“In...sufferable…” The annoyed tone is lost when you cry out. Mike buries himself as far as he can without hurting you. He isn’t quite balls deep, but you feel so fucking good that he doesn’t even mind. 

Starting a steady rhythm that has every upthrust dragging over your g-spot, Mike watches through foggy eyes as your mouth opens and closes, chest rising with stuttering breaths before you exhale and moan. He dips his thumb between your folds to gather a little bit of slick and return it to your clit. The circular motion makes you arch again, and Mike abandons the little bud for just a moment so that he can unclasp your bra and pull it off. The sight of your tits bouncing in time with his thrusts almost does him in, but he holds back, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to gather himself.

You’re just clamping around him so perfectly, pussy drooling and creaming on his cock, and Mike is not a quickshot, but for you—

He pulls out all at once, flips you so that you’re on hands and knees, then spreads you open to lick into you from behind. 

“Holy—” 

Mike’s cock is throbbing where it bobs against his stomach, but he can ignore it for the most part, focused on eating you out, sucking at your messy lips then dragging the flat of his tongue over your hole. He moves his face back and forth, wants to leave his mark on you in the form of stubble burn between your legs. 

“Mike, Mike, fuck, please.”

He’s positive you can’t actually hear him when he teases, “Please what?” right into the crevice of your ass. 

You growl, push against him, and swallow enough pride to beg, “Please fuck me.”

Biting his lip, Mike straightens up enough to watch his fingers disappear into your pussy. One, two, then a third that makes your messy entrance stretch for him. He lowers his face again, feather light licks around your sensitive hole, and when he twists his wrist so that he can tap on your spot, you come immediately. 

A mixture of slick and squirt drips from your cunt and soaks into your quilt. Mike pushes more out as he continues to finger fuck you, humming at the way your arms give out and you fall against the mattress. 

This is the perfect position for him. He replaces his wet fingers with his cock and ruts into you quickly, chasing after his own impending orgasm. Pretty little whimpers fall from your lips, fuck drunk as you babble, “Oh, god, Mike, Mike, fuck…”

He’s gripping your hips too tightly, pulling you back against him, shoving his cock deeper and deeper until he finally comes with a shudder and a low groan. 

Mike pants for a few seconds, then leans down to press a few kisses to your spine, but instead of the usual happy sighs he gets from most girls, you just roll your shoulders and mutter, “Stop that.”

He does, then pulls out, takes a second to stare at your pussy—worked open from his size and still dripping. It would make a very pretty picture, but Mike wouldn’t dare try that with you. 

You roll onto your back, a huff of air leaving your lungs as you scrub a hand over your face then tilt your head to him. It looks like you have something to say, but you just chew on your bottom lip, eyes moving from Mike to the door.

And, he can take a hint. You don’t have to say it. 

With a self-deprecating snort, he pulls the condom off, tying it then tossing it into the trashcan by your bed. 

“Yeah, okay,” he nods. “Let me just…” Mike tugs his clothes back on, kindly tosses you your top so that you can cover yourself like you obviously want to. 

He makes sure to grab the Hawaiian shirt that brought him here in the first place, tossing it over his shoulder then striding to the door. 

Chancing one more glance at you, you force a smile and try to pad his bruised ego. “Don’t worry, it was good. You were good. It’s just not gonna happen again.”

Mike fights a smirk, raises a hand in a wave, then steps out.

Not gonna happen again, he chuckles to himself. Yeah, right.

*

You don't understand how this keeps happening, how you keep ending up in bed with Mike fucking Zacharias. 

This time you had gone to the disgusting bar right off campus, got one whole drink in your system before the familiar trio walked in. They were all in khakis and pastels—Erwin in blue, Nile in yellow, Mike in pink. Again. 

You actually slammed your head down on the bartop because despite how basic he looked in his light polo, Mike was still hot. 

Is still hot. 

Back at the Pi Kappa Alpha house, you're a mess of limbs on his bed. You take immense pleasure in tugging his shirt off, and once his arms are free again, he's lifting the hem of your little skirt and mouthing over your thong. 

You're more than tipsy after a couple more drinks but nowhere near as drunk as you were the first night. It hadn't taken much convincing from Erwin for you and Hitch to play pool with them, and when Mike had come up behind you to help you line up your shot, you knew you were a goner. 

While he's busy between your legs, you take off your shirt and bra. Green eyes flick up as soon as you toss both articles on to the floor, and without any hesitation, Mike reaches up to grope your tits. 

He's clumsy and distracted as he tongues over the warmth pooling in your underwear, squeezing plump flesh and pinching your nipple so that you whine and push your hips further into his face. 

Mike groans, just as drunk if not more so. He's messy as he kisses your thighs, nearly rips your thong when he pulls it off of you. 

His tongue feels good, too fucking good as he laves over your entrance, soothing an ache that isn't quite there anymore but definitely was a few days ago. 

"Taste so fucking good," he grumbles, slurping and sucking and making you squeeze your thighs around his head. 

"Okay," you pant. "Okay, okay." You grab him by the hair and lift his head from you, stomach flipping at the sight of the bottom half of his face absolutely covered in slick. 

God dammit, why is he so sexy? 

Your mouth waters, and the thought of possibly giving him head this time crosses your mind. You're just inebriated enough to stay relaxed, didn't drink to the point of throwing up, and he has gone down on you the last two times so... 

Lizard brain taking over, you sit up, tell him to flip over, then start making your way down his body. 

Mike grabs you before you can turn to face him, fingers digging into your thighs and pulling you down to sit on his face. 

"Fucking—I'm trying to blow you, for Christ's sake."

He moves his head just enough to tell you, "So? You can do that while I do this."

And, he's not wrong. It just means that you're gonna get distracted. 

For a while, all you can really do is control your breathing and undulate on top of him, but eventually you fall to your elbows and lick up his shaft from base to tip. 

Mike really does have a nice cock—a beautiful cock—bigger than you've ever taken in terms of both length and girth, and veiny in the perfect way. Even his balls make your pussy throb, large and round, the right just slightly bigger than the left and now dripping with saliva as you lower your mouth further and further onto his cock. 

The feeling of his tongue buried in your cunt is making you delirious, eyes rolling, muscles going slack as you gurgle around the tip hitting the back of your throat. 

Mike groans into you, his legs starting to shake, and you assume in your half aware state that he's trying to not just skull fuck you into oblivion. 

You know you're making a mess, both on his face and on his cock. The fingertips that have been holding you open shift, one of them slipping into your clenching hole, and your hips begin to move on their own volition, riding what he'll give you while moving your tongue back and forth. 

You've only taken about half of him, doubt you can take any more. He's hot and heavy in your mouth, and when you pull off to breathe, you can taste pre cum on the back of your tongue. 

It triggers something in you, makes you raise up and clumsily turn around so that you can work him inside of you. 

Mike groans a long, "Fuuuck," and immediately starts thrusting upward. 

You're lucky you're as wet as you are, but the burn that comes with getting so stretched out still makes you hiss. You brace yourself on his broad chest, feeling the dampness of sweat forming a sheen on him, and your own body starts to feel too hot. 

You had wanted to ride him to feel in control of the situation for once, but you quickly realize it's not gonna happen, Mike gripping your hips and moving you how he sees fit. 

He's raw this time, a thought that should scare you, but he feels so good even through the discomfort. Every vein and ridge hits all the sweet spots inside of you, the flared head of his cock smooth as it presses just where you need it to. 

You're squirting again—he just seems to be able to fuck it out of you. It's not the high you're looking for, but the release in pressure still feels divine. 

Mike seems to enjoy it too because he looks down at where you're connected, swears at the way you gush on his cock, then starts swiping fingers over your clit so quickly it almost hurts. 

More fluid leaks from you, and Mike breathes a low, "Come on, baby, come on, 'm gonna fuck you dry tonight." 

Hearing him talk like that—his hand rubbing over your overstimulated clit, his thick cock threatening to split you in two—causes heat to travel up your legs and down your arms until it settles in your stomach and floods you. 

You cry out, stars and tears behind your eyes as Mike keeps going, taking everything he can from you until he's laying in a huge wet spot in his bed. 

He lifts you just in time to shoot cum upward on your chest, white splattering then dripping down in strands to pool on his stomach. 

You stare down at him, mouth hanging open and find him looking up at you with the same expression. 

It's hands down the best sex you've ever had, but you're not about to tell him that. Instead, you dismount him like the fucking horse he is and stand on weak legs, actually have to lean on the bed for support. 

"Just stay the night." His voice is deep and full of gravel. It's entirely too hot. 

"Absolutely not." You shake your head, grab your shirt and his boxers then ask, "Where's the nearest bathroom?" 

"Down the hall on the right, but you don't have to sneak out the window or anything. Just use the front door if you're tryin’ to run away."

You can't help but snort. Stupid. "I'm not trying to escape, dummy. I just need to pee." 

"Oh. Right."

You slip out of the room, hoping it's late enough for everyone to be asleep, but you have no such luck as the door to the bathroom opens and fucking Erwin steps out. 

He hums, looking you over for a moment as his lips lift on one side. 

"Don't say anything," you grit through your teeth. 

He holds his hands up in surrender, chuckles, acting all innocent. "Wasn't going to."

You squint, not believing him for a second, then move around him to get to the bathroom. Before you can shut the door, you hear him mutter, "Another one bites the dust," and consider running out and strangling him.

*

"Please please please come with me to this game," Hitch begs, her hands clasped together, imploring eyes wide and doe-like. 

"No. You have plenty of other friends to go with. You don't need me there."

"But, I want you to be there. It's gonna be such a good match. Rival schools and all that."

You roll your eyes. "Hitch, in all the time you've known me, have you ever seen me give a single fuck about sports?" 

"No, but you'll finally get to see Mike and Erwin and Nile play."

"All the more reason not to go."

"Do you not like them or something? Why wouldn't you like them? Everybody likes them!" 

She doesn't know, and you don't want her to. She had been too caught up with that Marlowe kid at the party, then was kept busy playing pool with Nile to see you and Mike slip out of the bar together. 

It's the only secret you've ever wanted to keep from her. You will take it to the grave. 

"I just… I just don't, okay? I get a… Sleazy vibe from all of them."

You really don't. Not exactly. You're not a big fan of the 'fuck-every-chick-on-capus' mentality, but most college boys think like that. Only difference is these three can actually achieve it. 

Hitch crosses her arms over her chest and gives you a look you've seen on your mother's face many times, usually when she has a point to prove. 

"You know I'm just gonna keep bothering you until you come to one, so why not just get it outta the way?" 

And, there's that point. 

"Ugh." You know she's right, and you really can't put up with this all semester. "Fine, but I'm gonna bitch the entire time."

Hitch squeals and claps, bouncing where she stands. "Yes! Wouldn't have it any other way."

You dress in school colors, put your hair up so that it won't be on your neck as the sun beats down, then take Hitch's little hatchback to the field. You try to talk her into sitting toward the back of the crowd that's gathered on the bleachers, but she just pulls you to the front without acknowledging your request. 

Even with the helmets, you can easily make out who's who, mostly because of their size. Mike and Erwin are doing some kind of pregame ritual where they hit their sticks together, shout something, and chest bump. It's the most alpha thing you've ever fucking seen and makes you question why you ever thought screwing one of them was a good idea. 

To be fair, you never really did think it was a good idea. It just kind of happened. Three times. 

But, it needs to stop. 

You repeat that thought to yourself as you watch Mike sprint across the field and launch the ball into the goal several times. You repeat it as he dances around his opponents with ease, quick footwork until he can throw them off. You repeat it as he stands on the sidelines and takes his helmet off to shake out sweaty hair and squirt water into his mouth. 

And, none of it really helps. Mike is pretty incredible on the field, especially with Erwin and Nile backing him up. Everyone in the stands is screaming, yelling their names and chanting. It's a little contagious, you have to admit. You get as far as clapping but refuse to actually cheer. 

At some point, Erwin jogs over to the bleachers and waves his arms for everyone to get louder, and they sure do. Even through his helmet, you can see his sparkling white smile, and your own lips curl up as you shake your head at him. Unbelievable. He has all these people at his beck and call. 

Erwin has to get back on the field, though, fueled by the crowd like the other nine players. They end up pulling ahead of the other team and finishing the game eleven to seven. 

Naturally, Erwin announces a party at the Pike house, and naturally, Hitch drags you to it. 

This one is even bigger than the last. It offends every one of your senses—too loud, alcohol permeating the air, bad drinks, worse dancing, and strangers rubbing against you as you pass them. 

You give up on your beer before you’re even halfway through with it, just set the can on one of the counters and start milling around. You’d rather be anywhere else but here. Your head hurts from the game earlier, baking in the sun and not drinking enough water. Should’ve taken an Advil… And some Benadryl. Hitch wouldn’t have been able to bring you here if you’d been unconscious. 

All of the lacrosse team is there, flanked with guys who won’t stop slapping them on their backs and girls who won’t stop batting their eyes and squeezing their biceps. It’s comical, really, the fairweather trend. There’s no way this would be happening if they’d lost their last three games. Instead, the team would be getting harassed and pestered, not so subtle comments about practicing more and replacing members. You’ve seen it all before. 

Leaning against a wall, you watch it all unfold. It’s probably the most entertaining thing at the party other than the group of sorority girls dancing on a table. Things are getting out of hand already, and you would prefer not be here for the aftermath, but just as you're about to leave, Mike breaks away from the group and strides over to you.

“Hey, didn’t expect to see you.” He takes a sip from his cup, smiling around the rim.

You use your usual excuse: “Hitch,” and he nods. 

“Right. Did you watch the game today?”

Crossing your arms, you mumble a, “Yes,” that Mike can’t hear but can definitely see.

He beams then asks, “You gonna tell me I played well? ‘Cause I did.” He’s all cocksure and giddy, and it makes your body run hot in a few different ways.

“I don’t think you need anyone else fawning over you,” you say with a condescending laugh.

“You mean you don’t want me to flex for you?”

“I’m leaving. Right now." When you push past him a little too roughly, it causes him to drop his cup, and your shirt is suddenly plastered to your chest and stomach. The white isn’t discolored, which leads you to believe, “Fuck, is this just straight vodka?”

“No, Christ,” he cringes at your wet state, looking genuinely apologetic. “It’s just water. Sorry.”

You scrunch your top up to wring it out, wondering what he’s doing drinking water instead of liquor, but you’re not about to pick on him for staying hydrated. 

“It’s fine. I was about to leave anyway.”

He’s quick to stop you with a, “No, don’t. Just… change into one of my shirts or something."

Narrowing your eyes, you contemplate how many ways this can go wrong, how much you should not allow this, and even go as far as accusing, "You're just trying to get me in your room again."

"You wanna stay in a wet shirt?" Not really. "Come on."

He jerks his head toward the hallway, and you end up following him, grumbling the whole time because you swear to God if you end up on your back for him again, you're going to be very upset with yourself. 

Mike beelines it for his dresser as soon as you're in the room, much quieter than the rager outside. He digs around in it, flipping all the way to the bottom then pulls out a heather gray tee. 

"It'll probably still be a little big, but it's from high school, so you shouldn't drown in it."

He tosses it to you then, to your surprise, turns back to the wall to give you the privacy to change. You eye him the whole time, peeling off your top as well as your bra since it soaked through. His shirt still covers your little shorts, and you assume you look a lot like one of those sorority girls, but it's good enough, has that super soft feeling from being worn too much. 

"Thanks. You can, uh… You can turn around now."

Mike looks over his shoulder, like he's making sure you're decent, then turns around fully. 

"I was trying to get outta there anyway. Spilling a drink on you was a good excuse."

You open your mouth, choking on a scoff, then ask, "Did you do that on purpose?" 

"No! It really was an accident. I'm glad it was just water, but I still feel bad."

You're squinting at him, but now you're curious about something else.

"Why'd you wanna get away from the party?" 

Sighing, Mike shows a tired smile. "Honestly, I'm still worn out from the game. I'm already sore and covered in these god damn bruises. I just wanna relax."

"If you're covered in bruises, I can't imagine how the other team feels. You smacked the shit outta some of 'em."

"So, you were watching."

"I may have glanced up once or twice," you lie. "Anyway, why don't you just hide out in here?" 

He shrugs his shoulders. "Erwin insisted I show my face, and I didn't want him to give me shit about being a recluse."

You can relate. It's why Hitch drags you everywhere. You wouldn't even leave your dorm for classes if you didn't have to. 

Still. "Dude. You're definitely not a recluse. You're fucking everywhere. All the time."

"So? I can get tired too."

He's got a point. 

"Can we just chill in here for a while?" He asks you. 

"Why do you need me to chill? You basically just said you needed a break from social interaction."

"Yeah, but not all social interaction," he corrects with a small grin. "Please? I've got movies and video games, Zelda and shit."

Again, the contemplation kicks in, all the pros and cons. You know very well what this can (will) lead to, but you also want to escape the party. And, if Hitch whines about you leaving, you can tell her you were there the whole time. Not like it's a lie. 

"Fine, but I have some stipulations."

"Oh, do you?" 

"I do."

Mike waves a hand for you to go on. "Let's hear 'em then."

Holding up one finger, you tell him, "You have to let me snoop around your room—" he laughs. You lift another finger, "—and we are not, under any circumstances, having sex."

"Deal." 

You tilt your head, taken aback at how quick he is to agree. "Wait, seriously?" 

"Seriously. Go ahead. I'll pull up Hulu."

You hum, still suspicious, but start making your rounds, taking in photos from what you assume to be the high school soccer team he played on, then a fishing trip with Erwin, a middle-aged couple with a dog, and some pinned up tickets to sporting events he's attended. 

He has a bookshelf against a wall, textbooks at eye level, but the top and bottom shelves are filled with sci-fi and fantasy novels that make you smile. His TV is fairly large, big enough to see the picture from his bed which is also sizable and draped with a plush comforter. The last thing that catches your eye is his closet, halfway open and full of jerseys and Polos. A few different pairs of shoes sit at the bottom, but pushed all the way in the corner are a few boxes of fucking Magic the Gathering cards. 

"Oh, man. You really are a closet nerd. Like, literally."

"Huh?" Mike looks over at where you're kneeling, realizes what you're looking at and actually sounds self-conscious when he admits, "Yeah, uh, I wasn't joking the other day." 

"I've never played—too technical for me—but my friends in high school did."

"There are baseball cards back there too if that makes me any cooler."

"It doesn't," you say bluntly before straightening up and reaching to shut the door to his room. Plopping down on the floor next to him (where he was smart enough to sit), you add, "But even I can admit it's kind of endearing."

"Oh yeah?" He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, that stupid lopsided grin on his too-handsome face. 

"Don't get cocky, Zacharias." 

"You wouldn't let me if I wanted to."

Both of you agree to a Batman movie, and you make yourself comfortable, kicking your sandals off and leaning against the bed behind you. You're a little too aware of Mike's body beside yours, but you're able to ignore it for the most part, keeping a few inches between your arms and legs. Of course, he still brushes against you when the movie ends and he takes the time to stretch. His shoulders roll, making his shirt strain over his back, and when he holds his arms out, linked at his fingers, you can't help but take a quick look at his bulging biceps. 

"Fuck, I'm gonna feel like garbage tomorrow," he complains. You can see the bruises littering his arms, some of them thick lines while others are almost perfectly circular from where he was hit with the end of a lacrosse stick. 

"You have any classes?" You ask. 

"Just my ten o'clock and three o'clock."

You make a noise of acknowledgement then fall silent. You're not sure how to hold a conversation with him that isn't sarcastic or snippy since you haven't actually done a lot of talking in the first place. 

"Sucks," is all you can come up with. 

"It's alright. I've probably dealt with worse."

"Probably?" 

"Well, nothing really comes to mind, but I'm sure I have."

You should get going. It's late, and you have a nine AM tomorrow. Plus, the longer you sit next to Mike, the more ideas pop up in your head. Dirty ideas. Ideas that will leave you disappointed in yourself. 

"Well, I'm gonna head back. This has been…" You're unsure of what word to use, don't want to get his hopes up by saying 'fun'. 

Mike figures you out and offers, "Tolerable?" 

"Yeah, we can go with that. I'll get your shirt back to you sometime soon."

Mike chuckles and gets to his feet. "Just whenever you can." He grabs your wet top from the ground and holds it out to you, then reaches for the door as you slip on your sandals. 

You feel him close behind you, close enough for his chest to push against your back when you straighten up. His arm is pressing into your side, hand curled around the knob and twisting it, but he's unable to open the door as you let your head fall against it. 

"God dammit." 

"Hm?" You can tell he's leaning down because his breath falls just over your ear. 

"I said we weren't—"

He cuts you off, "But, you want to."

He's too hot and too smooth, and you can’t stop yourself from turning around and breathing, "Yeah, I want to." 

It's different tonight. Mike takes his time undressing you, kissing and sucking your neck, your collarbone, your nipples that pebble against his tongue. It's unnerving even as you squirm and moan. 

He eats you out lazily, flattening his tongue against your folds then dipping into your slit so that he can slip into your twitching hole. 

When he adds a finger, you immediately grind down on it, silently begging him to work you open enough to take his cock, but he doesn't move any faster, apparently content to just drive you insane. 

You're nearly begging by the time he turns you on your side and moves to lay behind you, hiking your leg up and pushing most of his length inside of you in one faultless motion that makes you choke and sob his name. 

That stretch is back, delicious as it is painful as he splits you open. His thrusts are the same slow pace, cock dragging against gummy walls as he drapes an arm over you to toy with your swollen clit. 

It takes you both longer than usual to come, but when you do, your whole body trembles against him, and you have to suck in several deep breaths until you feel like your lungs start actually filling with air. 

Mike paints your back with warm cum, groaning right in your ear as he rubs against you, his cock sliding easily up and down your skin and making more of a mess. 

That unnerving feeling blooms in your chest again, crawls up into your throat. 

Tonight had been too casual, too natural. The way you hung out and watched a movie was already a little strange. Him fucking you from behind, holding you tight against his body, was too tender. And, now, after he leaves to grab a wet towel and uses it to clean your back, you find yourself searching for words again only to come up with passionate—intimate. 

And, words like that scare you.

[ n e x t ]

[vivian24l]

DamiraeWeek2021

Day One: Family/In-laws

The Second Wayne Reunion

Damian tapped his fingers against the wheel.

“Anxious?” asked Raven.

“You know how last year turned out. I was surprised Father agreed to another reunion this year.”

One year ago, Dick had come up with the idea of having a family reunion. He had invited the whole Wayne family together under one roof once again. The results of the party didn’t end so well. Dick clearly wanted to make the reunions annual, because he once again invited everyone.

Damian took another left. They had to drive across Gotham to reach Wayne Manor. After getting married, he and Raven bought a stretch of land on the other side of Gotham. Together they designed their house and hired people to build it.

Damian let out a sigh. “That bastard, Grayson.”

“Language,” said Raven.

He glanced at the rear view mirror. Their daughter, Rashida, was asleep in the back. Although, she could be pretending. Rashida is an intelligent child, more mature than her actual age. However, she does tend to do dangerous things.

They pulled up at Wayne Manor at long last. Rashida woke up instantly.

“We're here!” she announced. The five year old got out of their car immediately to stretch her legs.

“Rae! Watch this!” shouted Mar’i. She flew up into the sky while Rae watched from the ground. Mar’i shot a green starbolt at a low cloud. The cloud lit up in green light before evaporating into thin air.

“Impressive,” commented Rae. She joined her cousin in the air. The two girls turned the clouds green and purple.

Sitting in deck chairs, Raven and Koriand’r watched the kids flying around.

“Did you teach her that?” questioned Raven.

Kori let out a laugh. “Of course not, Mar’i and Jacob discovered it. Speaking of Jacob, where is he?”

It was Raven’s turn to laugh. “I saw him with Jackson, they were building something out of Legos. How do you not know what your son is doing?”

“I’ve been very busy lately,” Kori defended herself.

“Hey sisters! Mind if I join you?” Stephanie didn’t wait for an answer, she took a seat in a chair across from Kori. “Cass and Babs will be here with the food in a few minutes.”

“Is Valkyrie joining us this year?” asked Kori.

“She sure is! Val better not drop out last minute,” said the blonde. “I can’t believe Dick allowed her to skip last year. I mean, like seriously? This is a family reunion and therefore Val can not be missing out.”

“She was on a mission,” said Raven. “Then again, you can’t blame her, this family can be quite a handful.”

“Makes me wonder how we are able to put up with them,” joked Stephanie.

-

“How’s the cooking going?” asked Raven.

Damian turned around to face his wife. “Fairly well,” he answered.

Raven nodded. She took in the scene. Pots and pans were on the stove. A large bowl of lettuce sat on the counter. Nearby stood a container of tofu, waiting to be opened.

“Where’s Richard? I thought he’d be cooking as well,” said Raven.

Damian let out a “tt”. He stirred the soup inside a large pot. “Grayson left an hour ago, he said something about napkins.”

“You do know that not everyone here is vegetarian, correct?” questioned Raven as she noticed that there wasn’t a single speck of meat in any of the dishes.

“I also know that they will have to pay for making me cook a meal for twenty people.”

“21, actually,” corrected Raven. “Valkyrie’s running late.”

“And there I thought she would skip like last year.”

Raven grabbed a spare apron. “I suppose it’s up to me to save everyone from eating tofu turkey tonight.”

“How heroic.”

-

“Mother? Father?” called Rashida.

“We’re in the kitchen, ibna,” answered Damian.

“What are you making?” Rashida stood on the tip of her toes and watched as Raven mixed together the stuffing for the turkey.

“Dinner. Would you like to help, love?” asked Raven.

“Actually I can not,” said Rashida.

“And why is that?”

“Mar’i and I are in need of some pots. We’re going to make popcorn the old fashioned way! But instead of making a fire, we’ll be heating it with our powers,” explained Rashida..

“Is anyone supervising you?” asked Damian.

“Of course, Uncle Jason’s helping us.” Rashida pulled a large pot out of the cabinet. “This will do perfectly,” she said. “Good luck on your cooking!”

“Should I be concerned that Jason is overseeing their popcorn-making?” asked Damian.

“You should have some faith in him,” said Raven.

-

“I think we’re done here,” said Raven.

Damian nodded. “This should be enough food for the whole family, including leftovers for everyone to take home.”

They have made a total of twelve different dishes, two-thirds of which are plant-based. Raven have also made five different types of pastries for dessert.

They left the kitchen to join the rest of the family in the living room. Selina was reading a book to her grandchildren. Rashida, however, was not with her cousins, she was throwing knives with her uncle. They took turns throwing from different positions, each time getting bullseye on the target board.

“Why couldn’t our daughter have some non-violent interests,” sighed Raven.

Damian smiled. “She’s the granddaughter of the first Batman and Trigon, and great granddaughter of Ra’s Al Ghul. And I should add that her adoptive grandfather also happens to be Superman. So I would say that throwing a few knives is perfectly fine.”

“I just want her to have a childhood full of peace and innocence, unlike ours,” Raven murmured.

“She is habibti, she is.” Damian held his wife close. They seated themselves on the couch and silently watched the scene before them.

The peace in the room could not be contained for long. Dick burst through the door holding a large bag.

“Guess what I got?” he sang.

Rashida didn’t even spare her uncle a glance. “A bag full of games,” she answered.

“Uh, yeah. Great guess, Rae,” stuttered Dick. It still intrigued him how she knew what was inside. Well she is her parents’ daughter.

Dick laid out the contents on the table. There was a wide variety of games from classic card games to Twister.

The doorbell rang as soon as he took out the last game.

“That must be Val!” Kori rose to answer the door.

A minute later, the said woman arrived in the room. She could’ve been a younger version of Cassandra, except her features are more sharp. The youngest of the Wayne siblings, Valkyrie was adopted at the age of thirteen. That was ten years ago.

She came just like her oldest adoptive brother, holding a large bag. All the kids, including Rashida, ran over to see what was inside.

“Alright, settle down first,” Valkyrie said. She pulled out four colorfully wrapped boxes and handed one to each of the kids.

Mar’i opened her box and gasped in surprise. “Thank you so much Aunt Val! They’re beautiful.” The twelve year old has received silver bracelets, similar to her mother’s, but with detailed markings on them.

When Jackson opened his box, his jaw dropped. Inside was a Build-Your-Own 3-Dimensional Holographic Projector. “Thank you Aunt Val!” said the eight year old.

Jacob’s gift was eight limited edition action figurines. “How did you-? How is this-?” The boy was so shocked to see eight expensive figurines, that were probably worth a hundred dollars each, in front of him.

“I have my ways, little one,” answered Valkyrie.

“Thank you so much,” he said, giving Valkyrie a big hug.

“Your welcome, and please I’d like some personal space.”

Rashida slowly opened her box. Inside was a white cloak. The fabric was quite unusual. It was soft, stretchy, thin, and light. Yet the fabric also felt strong, and sturdy. The bright ruby glowed in the golden clasp. Unlike Raven’s cloak, this one had sleeves. The hems and cuffs of the cloak were embroidered with intricate designs. Rashida slipped on the cloak, it fitted perfectly. “Thank you, Aunt Valkyrie,” said the five year old.

“There are no gifts for your siblings? Wow, how kind of you,” spoke up Jason.

Valkyrie smiled. “Of course not, only ones for the kids,” she pulled out two more boxes, “and the parents.”

Selina and Bruce gave her their thanks then  proceeded to open their gift. Silent received a full set of cat themed jewelry, while Bruce received a grey tie.

“I actually needed a new tie,” he said.

[maybedefinitely404]

Day 27: Intrulogical (TW)

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 27 - Your eyes match your soulmate’s hair color. If they dye their hair, your eyes change colors.

TRIGGER WARNINGS!!!!! Attempted rape (by unnamed OC), drugging, implied underage drinking (though none is actually seen), emetophobia/vomiting, Halloween, alcohol, characters being tipsy/drunk, parties. Happy/satisfying ending.

Word count: 4.7k

Logan lived his life based on routine. In a world of constant change, it felt comforting to always know what his next step was. His mornings always started the same; wake up at seven o’clock sharp, sneak to the dorm bathroom in an attempt to not wake his essentially nocturnal roommate, and brush his teeth. Wet the toothbrush, pea sized amount of toothpaste, wet the brush again, and start on the left side of his mouth. Brush for exactly two minutes, wash face, and then attempt to calm down the bedhead. He’d sneak back into the room, change silently, and then make his way to the shared kitchen to make cereal for breakfast. The only variable in his routine was which fruit he’d eat along with his Cheerios. Then he’d triple check that all of his homework was packed properly, and head off to his morning class.

Except today.

For someone who rarely got distracted from his normal routine, he was surprisingly still as he glared, shocked, into his reflection. Water still dripped off his face and all over the counter, but he couldn’t tear his attention from it. Because his normally dark brown eyes were now neon green.

“Are you kidding me?!” He yelled before he could stop himself, storming back into their room and dropping back onto his bed.

“What’s’it?” Virgil mumbled, lifting his exhausted face from where they’d been smooshed into the pillows. Logan spun his face up towards the top bunk, jaw clenched, and gestured towards his eyes.

“I have a presentation today!” Logan continued, looking away from Virgil’s failed attempt to cover a smile, “And I look ridiculous! No one will take me seriously!”

“Just in time for Halloween, I guess. They just look like contacts.”

“Hallow-” Logan sprung to his desk to look at his calendar accusingly, groaning when he realized it was in fact the thirty first. “Ugh, I have a paper due tomorrow!”

“Don’t tell me you’re backing out of the party now, Lo. I already promised people I’d go, and I’m not going alone.”

“I won’t back out of the party,” Logan grumbled, crossing his arms. Virgil gave a satisfied hum, flopping back into his comforter. When he spoke again, his voice was muffled.

“Out of all people, I’m surprised you forgot.”

“So sue me, if a frivolous game of promiscuous dress up comes after passing my classes in the list of importance.” 

The emo snorted. “What’s your costume gonna be?”

“I am not wearing a costume!” Logan’s voice was almost offended.

“You already look like a traffic light. Might as well complete the look.” 

Logan grumbled angrily, marching back toward the bathroom to finish getting ready. “I’m not wearing a costume. I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Aw, c’mon, Lo. For me?”

That stopped Logan in his tracks. He spun around and took a careful breath, glaring down his overly pleased roommate. “Fine. Just for you.” 

Virgil gave another satisfied hum, before squinting his eyes at Logan scrutinizingly. “I wonder if your eyes glow in the dark. Can you imagine if the prof turns the lights off for a presentation and-”

“UUUGGHHH!” Logan yowled as he slammed the bathroom door shut, shaking his head at Virgil’s snickers. 

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

They were meeting up at the party at the end of classes (right about when Virgil tended to wake up), so Logan headed there directly after his final class, just as the evening sun was fading behind the horizon. It was already packed with people already picking the snack and drinks table bare, a lopsided sign that said ‘21+ only’ forgotten near an empty beer box. If Logan were to assume correctly, the sign was only there to assuage the conscience of whoever was hosting tonight, and not actually to stop the underage drinking. Even if he was above legal drinking age, he still didn’t experience many of the positives of drinking, so he grabbed a can of iced tea and stood next to a wall to wait for Virgil.

It hadn’t been a full five minutes before a man sidled up to him, sipping from a half empty beer bottle and watching Logan with a careful eye. He didn’t spare so much as a glance in return, barely acknowledging the newcomer’s presence.

“What’s a wallflower like you doing at a rager like this?” He drawled with an almost audible impish smile.

“If this is considered a rager, I’d hate to see what a calm party looks like.”

“Aw, we just haven’t gotten started yet! We’re fueling up for when the moon comes out. And you haven’t answered my question, flower.”

“I’m simply waiting for a friend.”

“Oh, and does this friend have a name?” He purred. 

Frustrated, Logan turned to the man, and promptly froze. Looking down at him with pitch black eyes was a person in a costume he couldn’t recognize; a black and white striped suit that looked like he’d raked it through dust, and a mold green tie. The stubble on his face could have been his own five o’clock shadow or makeup, but it only functioned to make him look far hotter than what was fair. What was most shocking though, and Logan was baffled that he’d missed it in the initial approach, was the mop of electric-shock-straight neon green hair on his head. 

“He- I don’t-”

“Didn’t take you for the type to get flustered,” The man snorted, taking another sip. “What do you have? Aw, iced tea? And not even spiked? A crime.”

How did he not see Logan’s eyes? The hair was the exact same color; Logan would know. He’d spend the whole day watching his reflection, hoping that his soulmate would have some mercy and dye their hair back to its original color. Neon green was not exactly the most subtle color, and he had not missed the snickers or silent glances from his classmates and professors all day. So the question remained, why wasn’t this guy saying anything?

“I don’t drink. I tend to just become lethargic when I do.” He answered instead, gripping his can a little tighter. It took far too much effort to keep his voice from straining. 

“Fair enough. I’m not pressuring you to drink, no worries. At least we’ll have one sober mind at this party tonight.” The taller man winked at him, flashing him that stupidly stunning smile again. 

But then it occurred to Logan as he kept searching the man’s dark eyes desperately. His eyes were too dark, almost pitch black, while Logan’s hair was several shades lighter. So... there was no way they were soulmates. Just as quickly as the hope had exploded in his stomach, it dissipated, leaving him feeling more exhausted than usual. Stupid feelings.

“Logan, there you are!” An unusually loud voice called through his stupor and he spun around to see Virgil’s fanged smile. In the back of his mind, he remembered watching Virgil putting together his elaborate vampire costume over the last few weeks, but he’d never seen the full thing put together until now. “Ah, and Remus found you. Scram, Beetlejuice.”

Remus, apparently, didn’t seem at all offended by the jab. Instead, he seemed to smile wider. “Nice to see you too, emo. Is that any way to treat the host of the party?”

To Logan’s surprise, Virgil smiled too. “Oh, shut up. You’re going to give Logan a heart attack.”

“I’m sure he’s fine, Dracula. Why don’t you go get a drink, and I’ll keep him company?”

“Nuh uh. No way. Not leaving him with you any longer than I have already.” With that, Virgil hooked his arm through Logan’s and led him back to the drink table. 

“Remember, Virgil, drinks are only for the big kids!”

“I’m older than you are!” He flipped the bird over Logan’s shoulder to the host, earning a barked laugh in response. “He never lets me forget I’m a whole three inches shorter than him.”

“You know the host of the party?”

Virgil hummed in response, pouring himself a cup of punch that reeked of alcohol. “How else would I get invited? We were in English together in third year, and I haven’t been able to shake him since. He’s like a leech.”

“You seem friendly with him.”

The elder froze, solo cup barely touching his lips as he looked over Logan slowly. “Everything okay? You’re not usually this… quiet.” They could both tell it wasn’t the word he’d wanted to use.

For a brief moment, Logan considered telling Virgil about his brief flair of hope, about how for a single second he’d felt nothing but relief and desire and elation, and how it had been ripped away from him just as quickly. But then he realized that, no, Virgil didn’t need that to bring down the mood of the first party he’d attended in a year, since his anxiety had flared. If it still bothered him after the party, he’d bring it up. That was unlikely, though. Logan was especially gifted in the art of repression.

“I’m just a tad out of my element. Nothing to worry about,” he responded with a smile. Virgil didn’t fall for it, if the way he watched Logan as he sipped his drink was anything to go off of, but he did them both the favor of not pushing it. For now. 

“I thought I told you to wear a costume,” Virgil gasped as he drained the cup, immediately refilling it from the same bowl.  

“I did.” Logan gestured towards the single piece of paper taped to his white shirt. It took Virgil a moment to squint through the darkening light to make-out the black sharpie, reading allowed.

“‘Error 404, Costume Not Found.’ That does not count, Logan!” He laughed nonetheless, just as a deep bass filled the house. Apparently, the party had begun. He didn’t have a good argument for Virgil’s accusation, since he technically thought it very much did count, but arguing with the other was a waste of time. The two men were equally matched in the stubbornness department.  

The lights disappeared for a good few seconds before the house was illuminated in strobe lights, and the music’s volume exploded. Virgil laughed giddily; apparently his plan to get buzzed before the party could give him anxiety was intentional.

“They do, ya know.” 

Logan looked at him in confusion, and shouted over the roaring music. “What?”

“Your eyes! They do glow in the dark!”

“Shut up!” 

“You look like a glowstick!” He began to giggle wildly, leaning on Logan for support. 

“No more drinks for a good half hour, Virge,” Logan chided gently, replacing his solo cup with a water bottle from the table. Virgil whined but plucked out his vampire fangs so he could drink from the small spout easier. 

“Let’s dance,” Virgil said, grabbing Logan’s arm and leading him into the crowd.

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

Logan guessed it was well past midnight when Virgil tugged on his arm for the third time, leaning close to his ear and shouting that he had to go to the bathroom.

“Again?!” Logan called back at the vampire’s back. There was no malice in his words, not when he knew Virgil had been anxious to go to this party and he tended to drink more water when he was anxious. It was just all coming back for revenge now. 

To Logan’s delight, the excitement of the party had started to push out the event from earlier. His mood was no longer dampened by the let down of what he thought was meeting his soulmate, and he could finally enjoy the one event he allowed himself to go to this semester. School was important, but he allowed this for Virgil. He hadn’t expected himself to have a good time as well. 

It wasn’t even a minute after Virgil had left that there was a loud shout and Logan was jostled harshly to the side, the front of his shirt immediately soaking red from the cup of punch spilled on him. His own drink clattered to the floor.

“Shit, babe, I’m so sorry!” A man Logan didn’t recognize started to pat at his chest with a handful of tissues, an action that for some reason caused the smaller man to cringe.

“No worries. It was bound to happen eventually. Perhaps a white shirt wasn’t my smartest idea,” He responded sharply, taking the tissues from the other and dabbing himself off to the best of his abilities. Slightly relieved that he now had a valid reason, he ripped off his poor attempt at a costume and crumpled up the soaking wet paper in the hand not trying in vain to dry himself. Despite Logan obviously being uninterested, the taller man stayed where he was, watching Logan’s actions with fierce intensity. His lip curled as his eyes trailed down the now nearly see-through shirt.

“If you wanted, I could get that shirt off of you. Fool around, give it some time to dry?”

“I’m so flattered,” Logan deadpanned, “But no thanks.”

“Aw, too bad,” The man cooed, shrugging. His demeanor did a full one-eighty, his predatory gaze replaced with innocence, “Was worth a try. Let me at least get you a new drink, since I ruined your other one.”

“That’s not necessary-”

“I insist.” He laid a hand on Logan’s shoulder, causing a tingling cold to spread through his whole body. The smaller man barely contained a shudder as the man gave him another wolf like grin before disappearing into the crowd towards the drinks table.

Logan was hoping he’d forgotten, and just wouldn’t come back, but the man reappeared in moments, popping open a pink lemonade and handing it to him.

“Saw your other drink was non-alcoholic, so I got the only other one left.”

“Uhm…” Logan looked critically at the can, his alarm bells flaring. But… he’d seen the man open it, right? So it’s not as if he could have done something to it. Perhaps this guy really did have the right intentions, just an iffy way of showing them. “Thank you.” 

He took a sip as the man smiled with too much teeth. “So, are you here alone?”

“No,” Logan responded a little less coolly, “I’m here with a friend. He just went to the bathroom.” Another sip.

“Oh, that’s fun! Are you guys in the same year?”

“Yes. We are both fourth years.” The man was acting kinder, and Logan was starting to consider that perhaps their initial meeting had been a misunderstanding on his part. Maybe he had just wanted to help out, but Logan, being cynical as always, had assumed the worst. Wasn’t that just like him, though? Always so quick to conclusions, ruining good things before they have a chance to happen. Trying to chase away his annoyance with himself and the bitter taste it had left on his tongue, he took a longer swig of the can.

“Hey, me too! I’m an English major, what about you?”

“Business with an astronomy minor.”

“That sounds difficult. How many semester hours are you clocking at right now?”

“I… uhm…” And for the life of him, he couldn’t remember. It was a high number, he knew for sure. He shook his head. “Fifteen, sixteen? Maybe seventeen?”

The man whistled. “Damn, impressive. Remind me of your name, again?”

Had he told him in the first place? “Logan.”

“And what brings a studious man such as yourself to a party like this?”

“My- My friend.” Logan couldn’t help shake his head again, hoping the fog in his mind would scatter. That’s what he got, staying out this late when his sleep schedule was usually so precise. “He doesn’t like… parties. So he asked…” He blinked hard a couple times, finding himself swaying on his feet. “He asked me…”

“Hey, are you okay?” The man placed his hand on his arm in an ironclad grip, holding him steady, “Logan, can you hear me?”

“Yeah, I… Dizzy,” He murmured, reaching up blearily and grabbing onto him. 

“Are you dehydrated? Maybe you should drink some more.”

What were the symptoms of dehydration again? Dizziness, check. Fatigue, check. Confusion, check. Thirst? Yeah, he could drink something, but he’d been drinking all night, so why…

The can dropped from his hand, the second one tonight, and he tried weakly to pull away. Instead of letting him go, the man pulled him closer, wrapping an arm bruisingly tight around his waist. 

“You… you drugged-”

“You don’t look so good, Logan. Let’s get you upstairs so you can lie down, yeah?”

“No, I don’t…” He was unable to escape, barely able to keep his feet under him, as the man started dragging him to the stairs. Where the hell is Virgil? Logan could feel tears pricking his eyes as his breathing hitched, and for the first time in years, he felt real panic. This couldn’t be happening. This isn’t-

“Let him the fuck go!”

A voice distinctly not Virgil’s shouted over the music, and Logan didn’t even dare hope it’s directed at the man still clutching him. His luck would never be that good. But through his blurry vision, a pin striped blob with a mess of green hair breaks through the crowd, marching distinctly up to them. 

“He came here with me.” Logan could just make out the stronger man’s words through his dizzied state. “He just had a bit too much to drink. I’m going to let him lay down.”

“Like hell you are. Give him to me.” 

“How dare you-”

“Logan. Doesn’t. Drink. And I know who he came here with.” Remus snarled, edging towards the duo threateningly, “Now let go of him before I break your fucking jaw.”

With almost as much physical relief as emotional, the man finally released his painful hold on Logan and shoved his way through the crowd, the distant shouts of inconvenienced partygoers near the door the only signal that he’d completely left. 

For all his effort, Logan couldn’t hold himself up and collapsed. At first the feeling of strong arms picking him up bridal style caused him to panic and he lashed out, feebly hitting the chest of whoever was holding him. Realizing they were now walking up the stairs, the same place the other man had been pulling him, caused his breath to hitch in his throat.

“Woah there, Lo. You’re okay. It’s just me, it’s Remus, okay? Take a deep breath, just relax. I won’t hurt you.”

For some reason that Logan couldn’t fathom, the words calmed him down. Somewhere, Logan acknowledged that even though Virgil had known Remus for a while, Logan had only talked to him for a total of five minutes, and he probably shouldn’t trust an essential stranger when he’s like this. He’s just too tired to fight though, no matter how his adrenaline is pumping. 

“V’rg’l,” Logan whimpered, clutching Remus' shirt with all the strength of a wet leaf, “W’nt h’m.”

“I’ll get Virgil as soon as you’re safe, okay? Don’t worry,” Remus’ soothing voice rumbled through Logan from where he was pressed to the taller’s chest, making his eyelids flutter. His arms felt like over boiled pasta and his stomach was doing flips, but Remus’ voice broke through the fog he was in and settled him in a way he hadn’t felt before. Maybe it was the drugs.

“We’re at the top of the stairs now, okay? I’ll take you to my room, since it’s the only one with a lock. So we know there won’t be any horny college kids in there, making a mess of my sheets. Gotta unlock it without dropping you, hold on, and… A HAH! Got it. You want the light on or off?”

Logan couldn’t compute the question, much less make a choice. He made a sound that was slightly reminiscent of a stalled car engine, letting his head loll towards the lump that he assumed was a bed.

“Let’s compromise.” With all the care in the world, Logan was placed onto the sheets and gently rolled onto his side, a heavy comforter pulled up to his shoulders. Remus shifted away and a dim light flashed through his eyelids, enough to notice but definitely not enough to hurt his throbbing head. A table lamp, probably.

“No falling asleep on me, okay? You need to stay awake. I don’t know what that fucker gave you. I’m texting Virgil now, he’ll be here soon. Just keep your eyes open.”

Logan opened his eyes despite his overwhelming urge to sleep, and was immediately assaulted by a swirl of colors as the world tilted. An explosion of nausea tilted him forward and he pushed himself up on his elbows.

“‘m g’nna-” He didn’t have to finish his sentence before there was a plastic garbage can under his cheek and he heaved, throwing up the remnants of dinner and all he drank that evening. He didn’t even have the energy to be embarrassed as he flopped back down onto his side, squeezing his eyes shut again.

“Oh, Logan,” Remus whispered. 

There was a pounding on the door and Logan didn’t even have the energy to flinch from the violent sound. Remus stood quickly and unlocked it, barely opening it before someone barreled into the room, the newcomer gasping for breath.

“What the fuck happened?!” Virgil screamed, dropping on his knees next to the bed, hand reaching up to lay on Logan’s cheek.

“He got roofied by some motherfucker I haven’t seen before. I caught him in the stairwell before anything happened.” Remus was still standing by the open door. The music was flowing in louder now, and Virgil’s raged shouting wasn’t helping his headache at all.

“I’m going to fucking kill whoever did this. I’ll fucking kill him!”

“Virgil, you’re real hot when you’re pissed, but calm the hell down. Yelling won’t help Logan.”

“You’re… shit, you’re right. Okay. I’m fine. I’m fine.”

“Watch him. Keep him on his side, bin’s to your left if he has to hurl again. I’m cutting this shit show.”

Logan finally cracked his eyes open as the door shut, Virgil leaning backwards to lock it. When he turned back and saw his friend’s eyes open, he almost wept.

“I’m so sorry Lo, I shouldn’t have asked you to come.”

“‘s okay.”

“No, no it’s not. I got distracted talking to someone, but I should have come back sooner. You could’ve… You could’ve been…”

“Not y’r fa’lt,” Logan mumbled, reaching over blindly to try and find Virgil’s hand. The other must have sensed his intentions and gripped onto the flailing limb, interlocking their fingers. 

“You better not be blaming yourself.”

Technically, he was. He should have been more careful, shouldn’t have taken a drink from a stranger, should have noticed something was off the moment his mind started to fade. Never in his life would he say that this kind of situation was the victim’s fault but… he couldn’t help it when it came to himself. He’d always been self critical that way. Bringing this up to Virgil would be a death wish, though, and an argument he certainly did not have the energy for right now. 

The music cut off downstairs and Logan sighed in relief, nearly smiling at Remus’ shout for everyone to get out of his house. For someone he’d met once, he was protective, that was for sure. 

Virgil didn’t force him to talk. They both just enjoyed the silence for a while, the only sound being the occasional shout from downstairs and Virgil’s sniffles. Logan couldn’t exactly blame him; he’d cry too if he had the brainpower. He didn’t though, which was the problem, so he allowed his hand to be held and allowed himself to get lost in the feeling of a thumb brushing over his knuckles.

There was a quiet knock on the door and Virgil reached over to unlock it, allowing Remus to walk back in. “Sorry that took so long. Wanted to double check that anyone using someone else as a crutch was black out drunk, not drugged. Here, sit him up.”

Virgil shifted so he was behind Logan and pulled him up against him, holding him steady as Remus lifted a glass of water to his lips. “You have to be thirsty. Do your best to keep this down, Lo.” Suddenly realizing how thirsty he actually was, Logan downed half the glass before Remus pulled it away. “Not so much, you’ll get sick.” There was a clink as the glass was placed on the bed side table. “We need to take him to the hospital. I don’t know how much whatever the fucker gave him.”

“I’m too drunk to drive,” Virgil said, gently lowering Logan back onto his side.

“I didn’t drink that much, but I’m not safe either. You got a friend who can take us?”

“Yeah,” The shorter mumbled as he shakily typed in his phone password, “I’m going to call Patton, just a second.” He moved to the furthest corner of the small room and the conversation faded into the background. At least Virgil was talking… that meant Patton picked up, right? 

“Shitty way to end a pretty spectacular holiday,” Remus stated as he sat back on his spot, letting a hand rest on Logan’s leg.

“‘m s’rry.” 

“Ah, shit, that’s not what I meant. I’m mad for you, not at you. Ya know,” As he spoke, he reached up and did something to his eyes, almost picking at them, “Halloween’s the only valid holiday in my book. Christmas is too overrated, Easter is senseless, Thanksgiving? No thanks, I don’t glorify genocide. But Halloween? I get to dress slutty or spooky or fucking ridiculous, and no one can give me two shits about it. I get to throw ragers and stab gourds into faces and buy discount candy until I’m fifty percent chocolate. I mean, I dyed my hair green for it, paid extra for the glow in the dark shit, and all I got were compliments.”

His hands had returned to his lap and he was fiddling with something. Logan tried to make out what it was, but it just looked like black plastic. Tiny, flexible pieces of black plastic. That Remus had pulled from his eyes.

They were colored contacts.

“I guess I do kind of blame Roman for getting me into Beetlejuice, but it is one of his least favorite musicals, so it’s also a bit of a ‘fuck you’ to him-”

“R’mus,” He breathed, and even that faint call was enough to snap Remus back to him. The taller man turned to him immediately, and Logan forgot how to breathe. 

Because his eyes were brown, and in the dim light of the single lamp, they absolutely shone. 

His eyes were the same brown as Logan’s hair, and Logan’s eyes became that offensive green around the same time as Remus dyed his for the costume, and that’s all the confirmation Logan needed to push himself up onto the hands and lunge forward to kiss him. The effort is strenuous and the lurch almost makes him heave again, but oh Lord, he just found his soulmate and it’s actually him and-

“Woah, woah woah woah. Hold on there, cowboy.” Remus gently pushes him back down before their lips can meet, “You are very drugged right now. I am not kissing you drugged. Sober, hell yes. But not like this.”

“Y’re my-”

“Soulmate. I know. I kind of figured when I saw your eyes. But I figured… I might as well get you to like me before I dropped that kind of bombshell. Although… I was hoping that would be accomplished by basic flirting, but then the party started getting out of hand, so I was always busy with-”

“Patton’s on his way,” Virgil spoke up, joining the two on the bed. “You okay, Lo?”

“He figured it out,” Remus said softly, letting a hand card through Logan’s hair. 

“I was wondering how long that would take.”

Logan gave a weak smile, his own fear and adrenaline starting wear off slightly. He was safe here, and he felt like he wasn’t going to be let out of sight for a while. 

“Drink some more water, wallflower,” Remus whispered, helping him sit up, “We’ll take care of you.” 

[snapplejaxs]

Locked The Door Behind Him

Dean Winchester x reader  SUMMARY: Dean accidentally wakes the reader, trying to sneak out of her apartment. smut, fluff // 3k wc. 

*a/n - (y/f/n) = your friend’s name 

♡︎  •  ♡︎  •  ♡︎  •  ♡︎   •  ♡︎

The loud sound of Bucky's picture frame hitting the wooden floor shakes you out of sleep. You open your eyes to a dark apartment and a dim light reflecting from the half pulled curtains. You blink, trying to adjust to the sudden awaking, but your eyes are heavy and your thoughts are confusing. You give in to the drowsy and shut your eyes. You didn’t need to get up and investigate the noise. You can recognize that sound in your sleep. Literally. You know it's that old photo of your departed dog because it's always falling off your nightstand. You keep making a mental note to upgrade the frame to something new and sturdy but it seems like the least important thing to do during your busy day. But tonight, the damn thing sounds like an old civil war cannon it's so loud.

“Shit.” You hear Dean whisper to himself.

Your consciousness returns. Along with a shudder up your spine. You lay perfectly still and keep your eyes closed. You can't see him, not in the dark anyway, but you know he's looking at you. The room got dead silent when Buck's frame fell. You imagine him pausing in one spot, watching you to see if you move. It's what you would do if you were in his position of trying to sneak out of some stranger's apartment at 4am after a bar hookup.

When you don’t respond to the loud slam, Dean continues dressing. You hear the quiet sound of denim sliding over skin. You picture him balancing on one of his, surprisingly smooth and hairless, legs while trying to get his jeans on as silent as possible.

God, this is not how one night stands are supposed to go. You were meant to thank him for the great time, made sure he got in his car safely, lock up your apartment, and then go to sleep. Not fall unconscious next to some man you don’t know. Sure, you might have just fucked him but that doesn't mean you know him.

What if he's stealing your expensive jewelry? Or digging around in your drawers for panties to take home because he's some weirdo, like that guy from that episode of SVU you saw the other night. That woman got murdered by her hookup. Maybe you should get up. Dean could be in your kitchen looking for the biggest knife right now.

Peeking an eye open, you look and see Dean’s silhouette thrashing around inside his t-shirt looking for armholes. There's no knife or panties in his hand. You feel a little better at that. You open both your eyes to try and see better in the dark light. But still, you barely see him.

Your apartment got pretty dark at night. And you made sure you turn off all the lights before you left to meet up with (y/f/n) to go drinking. You didn't plan on tonight going the way it did, bringing a man back to your place and all. You just wanted to put on a little tight dress and enjoy your weekend off with your best friend.

But then you saw Dean.

Or more like, Dean saw you. You and (y/f/n) were on stage, in the middle of tipsy karaoke when they started poking at your ribs and signaling at the bar. You looked over and saw Dean. Turned around in his chair, eyes glued to yours, and nursing a bottle of beer. He stared at you like you were a Super Bowl game. Like if he turned away for just a second, he’d miss something he didn’t want to miss.

When he brought his beer down from his mouth, he gave you a toothless smile and a wink. Ho-lee-fuck was it the hottest wink you have ever seen. He never took his eyes off you as you stood on stage singing off-key. He licked his lips while looking straight at you. He made you feel nervous. An entire room full of people and just one person made you feel nervous.

When the song ended, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. Of course, (y/f/n) whispered nothing but the dirtiest advice in your ear. 

'You’re a single and sexy adult.'  'You make your own rules.’   'It's been months, and you need to get back out there.'

And then there was the one that sold you.

‘It’s just one night.’

You bought all the naughty advice from your friend. Took a shot for good luck, And approached the winking stranger. You thought he was sexy from across the bar with stage lights burning in your eyes, but nothing compared to when you stood face to perfect face with him. He had gorgeous green eyes, flawless freckly skin, and a flirty smile. He introduced himself in a gravelly old movie narrator voice.

"Dean."

You couldn’t believe he was an actual person speaking to you in a small town bar and not some actor on TV. Dean unmistakably had a face for the cameras. But he told you he worked a regular nine to five and was just in town on business.

(y/f/n) made an excuse to leave and you stayed behind for a few drinks with Dean. The two of you drank and flirted for about an hour, before talking turned into a public makeout session in a secluded booth near the bathroom. There was some under the table leg touching and lots of tongues. Things got so heated that the bartender had to hit the table and tell the two of you to, 'take it to Motel-6.'

Not ready to say goodnight, you boldly suggested an after party back at your place. And Dean wasted no time. He grabbed your hand and dragged you to his car.

The kissing only intensified when the two of you were alone. His hands massaged at your knee. Then crept up to squeeze at your thigh. When you felt his hand crawl up your leg even further, you didn't argue. Instead, you found yourself spreading your legs to welcome him under your dress. He rubbed the outside of your panties until you were damp and swollen. It felt damn good. But you needed more than his soft little circles. His hand went lower, sliding over your clothed opening. You moaned into his mouth, and wrapped your hand around his neck, stroking his soft hair. His finger slipped inside your panties. You gasped and broke the kiss.

"Dean, my place." You remind him.

He nodded. "Which way?"

"S-swain." His finger roamed up and down your swollen lips. "Take Swain un-, until Courtland Ave." You reached down and guided his finger inside of you. You felt his thick fingers stretch you. "Just don't stop."

Dean started his car. A loud rumble came to life. His headlights lit up the parking lot. It excited you. Hearing his car, seeing the lights, it all made you realize how real it was. You were really leaving a bar with a man who didn't even know your last name. He knew nothing about your job, your family, your breakup a few months ago - nothing. And yet, he was knuckle deep inside of you.

You heard the wet sounds as he slid them out and rubbed your wetness all around you. He teased at your clit with his slow circles and then sped up his movements. After a few minutes of his little pattern, he dipped back into you again. You purposely clenched down on him. Dean curled his finger and went faster.

"Shit." You threw your head back against his seat and cried out. "Fuck." You held his wrist. You could have cared less about keeping quiet or cool, your body was on fire. You had never done anything like that in your life. You got fingered by a guy after you shakily gave him directions to your apartment. The same apartment you were about to fuck him as soon as you got there. So scandalous and out of character for a working girl like you.

Dean suddenly stopped his thrusting. You felt his hands pull away from you and it made your eyes open. You look around confused about why he stopped. You were so close.

"Is this it?" Dean asked nodding towards your building.

"Yes." You panted. "You can park here. It's fine." It was your turn to grab and pull. You yanked Dean out of his car, into your building, through the elevator, and into your apartment - kissing and grinding the whole way through.

The thought of fucking a stranger made you so eager to hop in bed that the lights were the last thing on your mind. No, 'take your shoes off' or 'get comfortable.' You kept everything the way it was as the two of you tangled each other and raced to get undressed while walking towards your bed.

You kicked off your pumps and slid your drenched panties down to toss away in the darkness and sat on your bed to watch Dean's shadow outline drop his pants and boxers. You had no idea what to do next.

"I've never done this before." You confessed. There was a small pause.

"I know." He snorts. "Do you want to stop?"

"No."

Dean stepped back to roll on a condom. You didn't even notice he had one in his hand or saw where it came from. This might have been your first one night stand, but something told you he knew his way around these pretty well. You laid back and let him take the lead. And he did.

Once he was secured, Dean hovered above you. He dipped down and placed a single kiss on your lips. Re-positioned himself. Then kissed you again as he slowly pressed himself down on top of you. He balanced on his elbows and deepened the kiss with a lip bite. You invited him in. His tongue was warm and active. He rolled himself into you, his tip hitting you just right as his mouth explored yours.

He slowly slid himself inside, inch by thick inch. He was big, and your body knew it. There was some natural resistance. Dean brought a hand down to massage you, his way of saying 'relax' without speaking words. Dean kept massaging until he was able to keep pushing through. It was a painful stretch, but at the same time felt good. Feelings you haven't felt in months.

Once he was fully in, he pulled away from you to breathe. “You okay?” He whispered. His voice was close. You liked that he was so close, it sent shivers down your spine.

You responded with a nod, then remembered he couldn’t see you in the dark, so you hummed out, “mmhm.”

Without another word, Dean reattached his lips to yours to continue where he stopped. His hands floated up and down at your sides, then rested at your waist to hold. He pulled out almost entirely, only to slide himself back in with more ease. You whined into his mouth. You wanted to scream, but he wouldn't let go of your lips. He felt good sliding in and out of you. He was hard and warm.

Dean continued rocking, nice and slow. His hands left your hips and found yours in the dark. He laced his fingers into yours and held them as he kissed you. You wanted to feel more. You wrapped your legs around the middle of his waist and pressed him in even further. Trying to give him the hint.

Dean pulled his knees up and picked up his movement by only a little. He slid your hands up as far above your head as they could go and you used the opportunity to lift your hips to push yourself against him.

"More," you spoke against his lips. "Please. More."

Dean let go of your hands and wrapped around your lifted waist and hosted you up with him as he sat on his knees. You gripped his shoulders and threw your head back to cry at the ceiling. He felt so much deeper in you. Dean attached his lips to your exposed neck. He wrapped an arm around your bare waist and pulled you close. You placed your legs to his sides and straddled him, starting your own rhythm as you rode him.

Dean separated from your neck and hissed into the darkness. You wrapped a hand around his neck and squeezed, choking him. He cursed in the darkness and you felt his arms hug you tighter, he liked what he was feeling. You rode faster. He felt so good. Each stroke made you crave for the next, deeper and harder.

The room filled with your in-sync heavy breathing and moans. You dropped your head down, in an attempt to look at him in the dark, but met his lips. You let go of his neck and dug your nails into his back, scratching and pinching. He grunted inside your mouth.

You smelt the cologne melt off his sweaty body that rubbed against your layer of sweat. You were high off of him. Your clit rubbed up against him in just the right way. You could feel your body building an orgasm from deep within you, and slowly rising up. You pushed away from Dean.

"A..ah...aah..." You sing into the air. "Dean," you squealed out at the intensity of your orgasm traveling throughout your body. You fell limp on his shoulder and let heat and pleasure overcome you. “Holy fuck.” Escaped your lips in a whisper as ecstasy ripped through you in waves. Dean pecked kisses at your shoulder.

After your twitching stopped, Dean carefully lowered you down on your back and planted himself back on top of you. He kissed your jaw, your neck, your shoulder, and moved down to take one of your nipples into his mouth.

"Hmm." You arched up. He sucked and nibbled, starting a slow thrusting pace. He pulled off one nipple and moved to kiss and suck the other. His hand rested on your waist and held you gently as he started speeding up. You hugged his sweaty back, lazy running your fingers through his hair as he chased his own release.

"Dean." You turned your head towards him and his lips collided with your swollen lips, that he loved to kiss so much.

Dean's hips stilled. He drew his lips away and let out a shaky breath. He buried his head on your shoulder as he jolted, and bucked into you. No words came from his mouth but breathless grunts, whipped against your neck, before a sigh of relief.

He came.

He kisses your shoulder once more. You feel a wet residue as he lifts his head to find your lips. Dean kissed you a lot. You didn't expect that from him.

You weren't expecting some rough hookup, but you weren’t expecting him to be so tender either. He was a tall guy with a deep manly voice. So where did the vanilla come from? Dean didn’t fuck you like you were the chick at the bar he just winked at and fingered in the car. His touches were soft, his kisses were sweet. He even held your hand at one point. Was it you? Did you put out the vanilla vibe? Not that it bothered you. You weren’t complaining because it was still good sex. Amazing sex.

Even after he finished in his condom, he kept a slow pace of thrusting. Like he couldn't get enough of you. It made you feel good. Not just physically but mentally and emotionally good. You’ve been in actual relationships with men and no one fucked you like Dean Winchester.

When he finally stopped shuddering, he rolled off of you. Not far. You felt his hot arm next to yours. Still physically touching you.

It was silent. But a good silent. A bittersweet silent. A silent you were gonna miss when Dean was gone. And the silent is still there. And more lonely.

"You sure you've never done this before?" Dean laughed in the dark.

"Haha." You chuckled. "I'm sure." You could have attempted to joke back to him, but you didn't want to hear whatever he had to say in return. You knew this wasn't his first time. Not with the way he acted. Dean was too comfortable with a stranger's body. He came prepared for it. There had to be other girls. You weren't his first and you aren't gonna be his last. As soon as he leaves here. He'll be in another town. At another bar. Winking at another girl. And you'll still be here. In the silent.

Your stomach started to hurt. But you're 99% sure it's from the stretching Dean gave you. You rolled over to the side, looking for some type of relief. your arm stopped touching Dean's. he said nothing. made no attempt to get up and leave. He just laid there. the two of you did. That must have been when you fell asleep.

You didn’t remember falling asleep. But obviously, you did. Because here you lay now. Pretending to be asleep while watching Dean tiptoes around your studio in the dark, holding his breath, and collecting his clothes one after the other like an arcade game. It’s late. Maybe you should just tell him to stay for the night? Would he if you asked?

Abruptly his cell phone starts ringing.

You slam your eyes close when you hear Dean’s feet patting across the floor. His ringer shuts off and the room instantly falls quiet. You don’t have to see to know Dean is, once again, stuck in place and staring at you for any type of movement.

With your eyes still closed, you reposition yourself and tuck further into your blanket with a sleepy sigh into your pillow. Just to sprinkle a little Meryl Streep into your fake sleep performance. He must buy your act because you hear the wooden floor creak as he starts to walk again.

You peek an eye open to see where he is. You catch Dean slowly pulling the front door open with one hand and holding his heavy boots in the other. He slides out of your apartment, reaching around the door to lock it behind him, before closing it little by little. He was gone just like that. Your apartment falls silent.

_________________________

Likes, re-blogs, and feedback are encouraged.  Plagiarism is not. Please don’t. ♡ 

[keanureevesisbae]

Mister Cavill, your dog is kinda fat - Chapter 1

Summary: Veterinarian Olivia Tran has zero time for bullshit. After becoming a mom at age twenty three, the one thing she wants is a good life for her daughter Vanessa. Her ex didn’t want anything to do with her nor the baby and she decided that man are officially banned out of her life. But then she meets Henry Cavill at her clinic and her ban slowly starts to crumble apart. Henry on the other hand is looking for one thing: a family. And when he meets Olivia Tran, he finds just that.

Henry Cavill x Olivia Tran (ofc)

Warnings: None

Wordcount: 2.4k

A/N: The beginnings of a new fic! It’s kind of a build up, so there isn’t a lot of Henry Cavill inthis chapter, but the next one is from his pov and more than 4.5k. I hope you like this new story 🤗

Masterlist // Next chapter

For fuck’s sake, I can still smell the fluids from those anal glands I have been popping all day. Even when you wear gloves every single time, that penetrating smell will just stay with you.

After a long day at the clinic, I can finally call it a day. Of course, I’m on call tonight, but other than that, I can relax now. Working as a vet has always been a dream of mine and now, at the ripe age of twenty nine, I have managed to become doctor Olivia Tran, one of the loved veterinarians here.

‘See you tomorrow, Belle,’ I yell to my best friend and other veterinarian at this clinic.

‘You on call tonight?’ Belle asks.

‘I am.’

‘If you need to go, I can’t watch Vanessa tonight,’ she tells me, while she is checking the ears of a pug, who seems to have severe breathing problems from the looks of it. ‘I have a date.’

‘No worries,’ I say to her with a smile. ‘I probably don’t need to go anyways. Hasn’t happened in the past months, so I highly doubt that something will change tonight. Please let me know how your date went tomorrow.’

Belle, the gorgeous brunette with legs for days and blue eyes as big as Rapunzel, flashes me a bright smile. ‘Of course, dear. Give Vanessa a big kiss for me, will you?’

‘Will do.’ I walk out of the clinic, give a sweet Jack Russell a scratch behind his ear and check my watch. I have twenty minutes before I have to pick up Vanessa, but it’s a fifteen minute walk if I hurry and if I just stroll around, it’s twenty minutes. Can I manage to buy myself some cookies or should I wait after I picked her up?

I think I would have a very happy six year old if I waited with the cookies after I picked her up from school.

I bury my hands in the pockets of my coat. Yesterday it was official: the summer has passed and autumn is here. I always love it when I see the green leaves slowly turning orange or brown and cover the pavement with a blanket of crunchy leaves. It’s Vanessa’s favorite season as well, but that’s mostly because it’s her birthday on November 12th.

I never planned on becoming a mother at twenty three. I never really gave it a big thought, the idea of having kids. In the far far far future I might’ve become one, but I always thought I had more cool aunt potential.

The day I found out I was pregnant, I was scared, but since I was in a pretty serious relationship with Wesley for almost three years, the man I thought I’d end up marrying, I figured we would make this work. We would marry, have this kid and live happily ever after, maybe even have a few more.

But Wesley broke up with me when I told him about the pregnancy and that I was going to keep the baby. I went to my parents for comfort, thinking that they and my two brothers would be supportive of this. We got through the time that I was partying all night, getting tattoos and smoked some weed out of my window. I mean, we would be able to handle this right?

But my parents kicked me out when I told them I was pregnant and I was going to keep the baby. ‘But what about your degree?’ I can still hear my mother say those words, but what was maybe the worst thing, was seeing my brothers turning their backs to me. Their literal backs towards me. ‘You worked so hard and you just got a job as a vet,’ my mom began to yell.

To be fair, I was their only hope. My brothers dropped out of high school and are now sort of working in construction, but they can hardly finish a job ever. My mother never worked  a day in her life and my father was a lawyer. I told them that I could work something out, with a bit of help of them, but my mother just pushed me out of their house and told me to never bother them again, if I was going to have a kid out of wedlock.

So I had to do it by myself. I had to find a place for me and the baby to stay, but thankfully Belle was already working at the vet and decided that I needed a bit of help. I could stay with her, even after the baby was born. Belle went with me to the ultrasounds and when I went into labor, she was right there with me.

Belle is Vanessa’s one and only aunt and my best friend. When you get pregnant and not only your boyfriend leaves, your family disappears out of your life, you also notice how many people despise you. My friends from college all of the sudden seemed to have fallen off the earth and never checked in with me.

Now I have a happy six year old, a nice home for the two of us and a baby sitter Belle, who is becoming less and less available, since she has discovered the world of Tinder, because she wants a boyfriend.

I hear the bell ring when I step onto the schoolyard. It doesn’t take long before I see my daughter running towards me. Her baby blue coat is hanging open, her backpack in her hand and a rolled paper in the other. She insisted on wearing her boots to school today, but leave it to her to cover them in mud.

Entirely.

I catch her when she jumps in my arms. ‘I missed you, my lovely lady,’ I say to her.

Vanessa peppers my face with kisses, something she always does when I pick her up from school. I brush the hairs out of her face, including the sweet bangs that she insisted on having. Originally she wanted the same haircut as me from when I was the same age as her, but since I have severe traumas of the bowl cut, I had to spare her that and opt for some sweet thin bangs.

‘Mommy,’ she says, ‘I missed you a lot.’

‘Well, you want to go to the store, so we can buy some cookies?’ I ask her. ‘And maybe tonight we can order a pizza.’

‘Yes, yes, yes!’ She gives me a tight hug.

Sometimes I doubt my parenting skills, especially when I look around the schoolyard. I watch those mothers who are housewives, with very handsome husbands and kids that always look formidable and put together and probably only eat fatty snacks on their birthdays. Sometimes I wished I had that: a husband, a man that Vanessa could look up to.

I figured that when my ex Wesley couldn’t provide that, my brothers and father would step in and treat my daughter like they treated me: a princess.

Now I have to do that myself.

It can be tiring, being both the mother and the father for Vanessa, but if I could turn back time, I’d do it all over again.

With Vanessa’s tiny hand in mine, we walk towards the store, to buy some cookies that I desperately craved the entire day I was at work.

Vanessa looks a lot like me. She’s basically my clone. People often stop us, simply to tell us that Vanessa is like a miniature version of me. I always like compliments about my daughter. I mean, she is my world.

When we arrive at home, I help her change into something more comfy. ‘Mommy, can we please have a pajama night?’ Vanessa asks, while I help her out of her dress.

‘It’s four in the afternoon,’ I say, knowing exactly what she wants. ‘You want to wait two hours before you wear your pajamas?’

Vanessa shakes her head. ‘No, I want to wear my pjs now.’ Her bright smile nearly lights up the room. I watch her nose scrunch up as the corners of her mouth curl up, the only trait that she inherited from her biological father. ‘Are you going to wear yours too?’

I don’t have anywhere to go and besides, after all popping all those anal glands today, I desperately want to get out of these clothes. ‘Yes, sweetie, I’m going to wear mine too, but first I’m going to take a shower.’

‘No bath, mommy? Because I like baths.’ Her dark brown eyes start to gleam with enthusiasm. ‘Please, mommy, please.’ She pouts, knowing damn well I can’t say no to that.

≫≫≪≪

The second Vanessa is in bed, I have some time for myself. I love every second we get to spend together, but it’s nice to have a breather every now and then. I stare at my arms, to see how Vanessa has colored in my tattoos. She’s obsessed with them and when she’s in school, she sometimes tries to draw them on her own arms by memory, sometimes even drawing on others when they want to. A few weeks ago, her teacher asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up. ‘Well, I want to be two things,’ Vanessa told her. ‘Like my mommy I want to be a vet, because I love animals, but I also want to draw tattoos on people.’

I sit up straight, looking at the drawing she made me today in school. She always makes drawings for me, but they are always the same. She draws a house, with me in it and herself. And outside she draws a dog and a man, with suitcases and moving boxes next to them. ‘Because,’ she explains every single time, ‘one day you meet a nice man who has a dog and he can become my new daddy. A daddy that does want me.’

Belle didn’t agree on me telling Vanessa her real dad didn’t want her, but I figured she needed to know the truth. Her biological father is a low life that disappeared into thin air and didn’t want to be involved in her life.

Vanessa understood, to the extent that was possible, but she really wants a dad, preferably one with a dog. Though she keeps pushing me, I can’t start dating again. Vanessa is the most important person in the world and men simply don’t fit into this—in my head—perfect picture. Vanessa is my life and men are big fat losers, so I don’t need them. I don’t want them, because the chance of them getting tired of maybe me, maybe Vanessa and leaving, is something I can’t risk.

Vanessa already lost her real father, what if a man that becomes really important to her, leaves too?

At around eleven I drag myself to bed, placing my work phone beside me. I hate being on call, but like I told Belle, I didn’t have a call in months, so I think I’m good.

I’m dreaming about Keanu Reeves (the only man on earth that I’d break my no man ban for) and how he takes me out on a lovely date, has Vanessa on his lap and helps her to cut her food, when the phone starts to ring.

‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ I mutter, before I click on my nightlight. It’s three in the fucking morning. I don’t want this. ‘Animal Clinic Westside, doctor Olivia Tran, how may I help you?’ I say when I pick up the phone.

‘Hello, I’m terribly sorry for calling at this hour, but my dog is vomiting and I see some blood in it.’ Oh, poor man, he sounds so panicked. ‘He collapsed and is breathing really heavily and I don’t know what to do.’

I sit up straight in bed and rub my eyes, as I try to be as alert as I can on this early morning. ‘Sir, it’s okay. Did your dog eat anything out of the ordinary today?’

‘Not that I know of.’

‘You think it’s possible for you to come to the clinic? I’d like to see the dog.’

‘Of course, of course.’ The man on the other side of the line has such a lovely and deep voice. He could become a voice actor or a narrator like Morgan Freeman. If liquid gold had a voice, it would sound like this.

‘I hope it’s not too much to ask, but could you take some of the vomit with you? Especially the part with some blood. I’d like to check it.’

‘I’ll bring it with me, of course.’

‘What kind of breed is your dog, sir?’ I ask, while writing it all down on a piece of paper.

‘An American Akita. His name is Kal.’

I don’t think he ever went to our clinic, I think to myself.

‘I’ll be at the clinic in about forty minutes, mister…’ I say, hoping that this man will say his name.

‘Cavill,’ he quickly says. ‘And I can be at the clinic in about an hour.’

That name does sound kind of familiar though, but I could’ve sworn that this man isn’t in our database. Maybe I went to college with him or to high school?

After we hang up the phone, I quickly get out of bed. I opt for a pair of tight fitted black leggings and an oversized sweater (after I put on a bra, because who knows mister Cavill is handsome and my nipples don’t want to keep that a secret) and I slip on some white sneakers. I put my hair into a bun. I freeze when I’m moisturizing my face.

I kind of forgot I had a daughter. I don’t like the idea of bringing Vanessa with me, especially since it’s three in the morning and she’s asleep, but then I realize that tomorrow it’s Saturday. Plenty of time for her to catch up on her sleep and plenty of time for me to feel less guilty about dragging her out of her dreams.

‘Sweetie,’ I whisper, when I gently wake her up. ‘Mommy has to go to the clinic, but you can’t stay at aunt Belle tonight, so you’re going with me to work.’

Vanessa was a groggy mess when I nudged her awake, but when she realizes she can go with me to work, her eyes light up. ‘Really?’

‘Yes, someone has a sick doggy, that needs to be taken care of.’

She gets up out of her bed and I help her with her socks, though she is perfectly capable of doing so herself. ‘You’re gonna save a doggy?’ Vanessa asks.

‘I’m going to try.’

I hand her a thick vest and while she puts it on, she says: ‘You’re a hero, mommy.’

With a smile on my face, I softly pinch her cheek. ‘I guess I am.’

Taglist: @thelastsock​ // @flhorah​ // @sausagefest1996​ // @laufeysodinson​ // @xxxkatxo​ // @memoriesat30​ // @henrythickcavill​ // @crimsonrae​ // @henryobsessed // @madbaddic7ed​ // @summersong69​

[nite-shay]

His Hero Part 4 (Kirishima Eijirou x Reader)

A/N: I don’t know if I’m completely happy about this chapter. I’m trying to get better with witting panic/anxiety/non-humor, so hopefully, next time, it’ll be a little better. Also, sorry for the long time off and just sporadic posting. Works been hell, but now that we’ll hopefully *grain of salt* were getting more people hired, I’ll have more motivation and time to write 

Warnings: Panic/anxiety , references to sex and/or sexual acts (nothing descriptive but suggestive) so I guess 18+? IDK how this works :/ If yer too young, offended by sex , sexual acts, sexual reference or don’t know where babies come from, please don’t read.

Word count: 3K 

Other then that, please enjoy! :D  

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

*****

Kirishima didn’t protest when Fat sent him home for the day. 

‘Go home. Clear your head. Call me if you need anything.’ 

Honestly, he barely heard his mentor’s words. He just sat there staring at the screen. Watching, pausing, rewinding, and watching again. Over and over again. It wasn’t until Fat picked him up and carried him to the door, did he finally get the memo.

Yeah... he didn’t need to be here right now...

The trip home was nothing but a blur, and honestly, he remembered nothing about it. His body was on autopilot as his mind tried to wrap the possibility that he might have a kid. 

A kid… A son… Your son… His son? But… How? Err… Wait! 

Ok, he knows the ‘how’ of how kids are made. 

Better phrasing, how could this have happened!? He was always careful with anyone he was with! Err, not that was a really long list or anything. Typically, he was only intimate with someone he’s known for a while, and when he was, he’d use a condom, or they were on the pill. 

Oh fuck. How could he have let this happen!?!?

Calm down. Calm down. 

Maybe he was just overthinking everything? It could just be a coincidence. Sure, he and the kid have some similarity, but hey, there’s like, billions of people on the planet! So some are bound to look alike! That doesn’t necessarily mean they’re related, right? Total chance! That’s it! It’s that stuff we learned in school. Static? No, that’s not right; that was in science. The other thing was in math...Statistics! Yeah, that’s it!

So what if the kid has red eyes? His best bud Katsuki does too! 

The sharp teeth? Look no further than his gym bro Tetsu! Hell, depending on the quirk, it can be a super common trait!

The quirk being exactly like his... well, ok, that was… odd. And yeah, he hasn’t run into any with his quirk specifically, but, big but, it doesn’t mean there isn’t someone out there with his quirk! 

Or maybe it’s not his quirk! Maybe its a similar one! Really, really, reeeealllly similar.

Total coincidence! Anyone can have those traits!

He just… happens to have all of them… just like the kid… whose mother he just happened to have slept with… around six years ago… 

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!

The room suddenly felt like it was closing in on him. The air got thinner, making it harder for him to breathe. He jumped off the couch and started pacing. He’s had issues with anxiety for years, and one thing he did learn, when he got like this, he needed to move.

Breath and walk. Breath and walk. Breath and….wait! The kid can’t be more than five! He slept with you six years ago! Ha! The time doesn’t match up! So he can’t be his kid!

His legs felt like jello as the waves of panic finally came to a halt, and took a deep, much-needed deep breath.

He wasn’t a father.

This was a good thing. A great thing!

He doesn’t have a kid. The time frame didn’t add up. He was in the clear.

He should feel happy. Relief. Ecstatic!

So why did he feel like he just got punched in the gut? 

He sighed as he made his way to his fridge in search of something to calm his nerves. Beer isn’t his typical drink of choice, but he was glad he kept a few on hand in moments like this. Since he was single and didn’t have a roommate, his place was the place of choice for ‘bro’s night.’ 

Though sometimes, there was nothing like a cold one to just chill after a long hard day.

He grabbed one of the glass bottles by the neck, activated his quirk, and flicked the lid off with his thumb. Cool little party trick he learned a few years back. 

As he tilted the drink back, he took a long hard swallow and let his mind wander. The beer of choice today was one Katsuki preferred. It was good, smooth going down, and less alcohol content. Which was fine. Ochaco, even after giving birth, still couldn’t stand the smell of alcohol. Pregnancy wasn’t a subject Kirishima knew a lot about, but he knew enough to respect it. 

He’d seen her hauling ass many adays to the toilet of the slightest whiff of something she didn’t like.

Then the cravings came along, which prompted a few late-night trips to the store by Katsuki or himself if his bro was at work. 

He chuckled as he thought about the few times Katsuki had said something to piss her off and sent him over to the redhead’s place for the night. Only to call him back a little while later in tears because of mood swings. 

Towards the end was rough, though. She’d been put on bed rest and was in a lot of pain. Katsuki took fewer shifts during that time to stay home and help ease her in any way he could. 

Damn, she went through all that for, what almost a year? Maybe not quite a year, but it had to be close. 

Was it nine or maybe ten months?

His brain came to a screeching halt, mid-swallow as he started calculating.

Beer spewed out of his mouth and nose as he tried to breathe and swallow at the same time. 

The nine months adds almost a year! *Cough* Meaning the kid’s age would make sense! *Cough Cough*

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! It can’t be true, can it? He… He’d used protection… hadn’t he?

His mind raced as he thought back to that night six years ago.

It was Izuku’s birthday and his girlfriend, future wife Melissa, rented out a small private Terence at a hotel to celebrate. It was small, maybe fifteen people max: just some friends, family, and a few colleges of the green-haired hero.

He was having a few drinks while chatting with Denki and Hanta when he first saw you. That was when he first saw you… You were chatting with your Melissa and Izuku, and damn… he couldn’t stop staring at you. You were so beautiful, and the way you tried to hide your angelic smile every time you laughed made his heart skip a beat. 

Eventually, his two friends figured out just what or who had caught his attention. Which brought on a relentless amount of teasing. It took about twenty minutes, a few beers, and an angry blonde for him to finally make his way over to you.

Katsuki, at some point, approached his childhood friend, then proceeded to yell at him for some reason or another. Even on his birthday, the guy couldn��t catch a break. Now that he thought about it, it was over something All Might related. Something about a suit and which version was from what era? You were looking rather uncomfortable (Melissa was used to this) at the aggressive (mainly Katsuki) debate. That’s where he came in. With the help of Ochaco and Melissa, he finally got the two distracted enough to send them to opposite corners of the party. 

And then, he was left all alone with you.

He was so nervous that he even stumbled through his own name. Luckily, he played off his nervousness by making light of his two friends. To his surprise, you took his jokes in stride and even had a few comebacks of your own. 

The two of you must have talked for over an hour! Just one conversation after another. He’d never met anyone like you before. You were just so loving, kind, and just… wow!

Then things start to get a little fuzzy.

He remembered talking, drinking, joking, more talking, and more drinking. 

A weird memory of a drunk Denki yelling, “I swear to drunk I’m not God!” before face planting into the punch bowl. 

Then while everyone’s attention was on Denki, the two of you snuck away and back to his room. 

A makeout session on the elevator leads to the two of you missing his floor and shocking an elderly housekeeping lady. That was embarrassing but didn’t seem to stop the two of you.

Then things get really, really blurry, but somehow the two of you made it back to his room without any other incidents. 

While the rest of his memories were bits and pieces, but he… did remember the most of the ‘activates,’ and it’d been consensual, and yeah… he’d definitely used protection! That much he remembered!

The next thing he knew, it was the next morning, where he woke up alone, with a hangover, and felt better than he had in awhile. 

Too bad that feeling didn’t get to last. His phone rang not long after he woke up. It’d been work, a villain was causing trouble, and they needed him asap. 

He showered, dressed, grabbed his stuff, and left. 

Then… he’d gotten hurt… bad…

Ended up in the hospital for nearly a week. 

After he got out, he, well, had an interesting voicemail and charge on his credit card.

He blushed hard as he remembered the hotel’s message regarding the ‘damages’ done to the room. In particular, the ones done to the sheets and headboard. They even sent him pictures!

Damn, he couldn’t believe he lost control of his quirk like that. He hadn’t done that since… well, since his ‘first time.’ That was so embarrassing. Thankfully, he didn’t think he’d hurt you in the process. Of all the pictures and list of damages, blood-stained sheets weren’t listed. Maybe that’s why he never worked up the courage to reach out to you. Even if he didn’t hurt you, he might have scared you...

Wait….

He lost control of his quirk.

Oh… OH SHIT! Realization dawned on him.

Even if he had put a condom on, his quirk might have damaged it!

Then that means… there is a chance he's the father of your son!

FFFFFUCCCCKK!!!!

But wait.

If he really was your son… why haven’t you contacted him?

His footsteps slowed until he came to a standstill.

You would have told him if he was, wouldn’t you?

Granted, the two of you never exchanged numbers, and we’ll it’s not like he did much to reach out to you either, but… You would have known he’s friends with Izuku, so you knew a way to contact him. 

Two-way street, buddy. He internally lashed himself.

Between racking his brain and scolding himself, he didn’t hear the knock on his door until the visitor started pounding. 

“Oi! Shifty hair! Answer the damn door!” A loud, brash voice that could only belong to one person yelled through the abused door.

Katsuki? Why was he here?

Kirishima hurried over to the door before the blonde got too impatient and blew it down… again. He took a deep breath and put on his brightest and cheerful grin before opening the door to greet his grumpy best friend. 

“Oh hey, Bakubro, what’s up?” 

“Don’t bro me! Why the hell am I getting called from your boss to check up on you?” He growled.

“Fat called you?” That was a surprise. 

“Yeah, he did. Had to switch my patrol around and everything.” He brushed past the redhead, letting himself in. Kirishima sighed as he shut the door behind them. 

“I’m really sorry about that. Not sure wh-”

“Don’t start that bullshit with me.” Those fierce red eyes locked on to him. “And drop that fake ass smile. Always hated when you did that shit.” He mutters.

Damn, Fat just had to go and call him of all people. 

If it’d been anyone else, anyone at all, he could play this off. A bright grin, crack a joke or two, maybe a few reassuring words, and he could send them on their way. 

But not him.  No, not Katsuki. Most people wouldn’t in a million years think the aggressive blonde could show anything other than anger. And yeah, the guy was rough around the edges, and he wasn’t the best with words. But nonetheless, here he was. 

And sometimes, that’s all that mattered.

Fuck. 

“So why am I here?” Katsuki wasn’t backing down, so Kirishima took a deep breath.

“What did Fat tell you?” While his smile didn’t waver, he felt his stomach belly flop to the floor. 

“Bastard would spill it, just said you’d need me right and to get over here. Now what the fuck is going on?” While he still sounded angry, there was an underline concern in his tone that most people tend to miss. 

Who would have known that would be the thing to make him crack? Well, obviously, Fatgum knew, hence why he sent the blonde over. The great explosive hero was one of the few people that could blow a hole right through his hardened armor. 

Both figuratively and literally.

With tears in his eyes, he dropped his bright grin and let the damn of emotion bust. He explained everything that had happened. The robbery, the hospital, you, your son, the night he first met you, the security footage, everything! Hell, he was sure he went into a little too much detail when he described you and that night.

The blonde just stood there shell shocked as he tried to absorb the word vomit hurled at him. 

“S-so, yeah… I might… have a…” he couldn’t finish. He just let the silence hang between them. 

“You… dumbass.” He sighed quietly, running his hand through his hair before looking him right in the eyes. While his best friend was known far and wide to have a temper, when shit got real, it was eerie how calm and focused he was. “Are you sure he’s your?”

“I-I don’t know. I mean-”

“Have you talked to the mother?”

“N-No!” 

“Have you talked to anyone about this?” He pressed. “Does anyone else think you’re the father?”

“No! Well, Fat might, but that’s cause he was with me when I put the piece together. But I haven’t told or asked anyone else about this. Honestly, other than the mother, I don’t even know who else to go-” The redhead piped up. Something flashed in his friend’s eyes, and for a moment, he looked like he was ready to commit murder. Fuck was he made? He hadn’t come to him about this yet!? Of course, he was! He was finding this out because his boss called him, not because he had called him! Some friend he is... “I was totally going to call you about this! I swear! You’re my best friend. This just happened so suddenly!”

“I know you would, Ei. Chill.” The blonde’s features soften for a second, soothing the redhead some. But he could tell Katsuki was trying to keep his temper in check. “I’m not mad at you but, I’ll ask again. Does anyone else know about this?”

“Honestly, I have no idea. I only found out about this today, and I haven’t had any contact with (Y/N) since the other day and well at Izuku’s birthday party.”

“Ok. Stay here for a bit. You need to calm down. We need more information first. If he isn’t your kid, you’re losing your shit for nothing. And if he is... well,” He paused, “Cross that bridge when you come to it.” He pushed the hero towards the couch and made him sit down. “I need to make a phone call.” 

Kirishima blinked as his best friend made his way towards his front door. “NOW SIT THERE. SHUT UP AND CALM DOWN!”

*SLAM*

This was a new level of anger for the blonde. He couldn’t stand seeing the redhead like this. He felt even worse, leaving him alone like this. The damn guy lived off socialization with others, so for him to be facing this alone. 

Yeah... it really pissed him off.

The blonde stomped his way back to his apartment, which was just a few doors down. He did need to make a phone call; he hadn’t been lying. But it was a call, that big, dense red rock didn’t need to hear. 

Fuck. He couldn’t believe this. Did shitty hair really have a kid? 

Katsuki made his way inside his home. The home he shared with not only his wife but his newborn daughter. 

Fuck. He has a kid… and he never even knew. 

As he made his way through the foyer and into the living room, something caught his eye. Something black, orange, green, and tiny laid on top of a basket of unfolded laundry. It was the custom design onesie Momo had gotten for their daughter as a baby shower gift. The custom design was made to look like his hero costume. While he scoffed at the thing initially, he made sure that she wore home from the hospital. 

Well, tried. About halfway through the hospital parking lot, she decided now was the best time to need a diaper and outfit change. 

Little brat. He smirked.

If you’d ask him a few years ago what he thought of kids, he would have brushed it off, not really caring about it. His hero career was his focus. He needed no had to be number one. 

But now that he has a little one of his own, he realized there was more to life than being number one. Was he still going to do it? You bet your ass, but now that he has his wife and his child that climb to the top well, he couldn’t dream of making it there without them. 

He couldn’t imagine a world without her. Let alone a world where he didn’t realize she existed.

He whipped out his phone and thumbed through his contacts.

Especially if someone knew about them. 

He took a deep breath and hit send.  

Someone close to not only the kid but himself. 

And still not tell him.

He knows. There’s no way in hell that precipitative little shit doesn’t know!

One ring. Two rings. Three rings.

“K-Kacchan. This is a surprise. You never call. Is everything-” Katsuki cut him off. 

“We need to talk. Now.” 

****

Links: Part 1,  Part 2 ,  Part 3, Part 4

Thanks for the read! If you want see the other stuff I’ve done, click the link bellow!

MasterList

Tags: @hot-pocket01 ,  @simpforeveryone , @remember-happy-things 

[bentforkent]

to the moon and to saturn - chapter two

spencer reid x fem!reader

navigation and summary

there is a version of this story featuring my oc sara on my wattpad and ao3!

word count: 3,559

content warnings: alcohol mentions

previous chapter | next chapter 

betty 

spencer has a recurring dream about her. in this dream, it’s y/n’s 18th birthday. his brain doesn’t know what she looks like past age seven, so dream-y/n has her youthful face on an adult body. her eyes crinkle at the edges when she smiles. she’s holding a birthday cake that’s covered in lit candles. there’s no indication that spencer baked the pink, sloppily-frosted cake, but in his dream, he knows he did. 

she holds the cake out towards him. “make a wish, spencer,” she says, her voice sounding far away and warbled. “it’s not my birthday, love,” he insists, swiping some of the frosting and brushing it across her cheek.

she grins and sets the cake down on the round table in front of her. “sure, but i want to share mine with you.” she pulls out a box, gift wrapped in bright yellow paper with a large blue bow on top. he always wakes up before he can ever open it. 

 he gets this dream once a month without fail. it’s pathetic, he thinks. he hasn’t even seen y/n in twenty years. he’s doesn’t even know her, to be frank. and yet he thinks about her constantly. he---and his therapist, of course---chalk this up to the abandonment he felt when she never came back. she didn’t even say goodbye. spencer thinks about this often, wondering if it was his fault. he wonders if any or all of the horrible things he’s been through have been his fault. his sick brain tells him yes, yes they are. 

 often, when spencer thinks of y/n, he imagines her in some incredible life. a spy, maybe. he knows it’s unlikely that she’s a princess or bank robber now, but he doesn’t put it past her. he doesn’t have enough memories of her, so every play-pretend game they played as children supplements what he knows about her, creating at least some whole adult person for him to fantasize about. she’s become almost a fictional character in the movie of his life. he wishes that they weren’t estranged, wishes that he could know the real y/n instead of whatever caricature of her he’s created. even if she actually was a bank robber. he just wants to know.

wait. he just wants to know. 

spencer is lounged on his couch, cardigan long tossed aside, tie long undone. he’s been home from work for a few hours now, an easy paperwork day cutting his day short. he takes half of a second to make his decision, then pulls out his phone.

 ------

“i need you to look someone up for me,” y/n says nonchalantly, flicking through a cheesy magazine. they’re laying on penelope’s bed, tv in the other room playing a rerun episode of “the office” just loud enough for them to hear. penelope has one hand in a bowl of popcorn, and one on her laptop scrolling mindlessly through some geeky website y/n can’t comprehend.

 y/n had seen spencer that evening on her way to penelope’s house. at least she thought she did. y/n was stopped at a red light, staring straight ahead at the crosswalk before her. living in a decently populated city, there were always fun characters crossing the street, and while y/n had once been in awe of the medley of people living in dc, she’d become used to it, and stopped paying attention. at red lights, she usually takes time to relax, letting her eyes glaze over before the switch to green and the restart of traffic. but before she could check out for her 15 seconds of a mental break, she saw a long haired figure hunched over a book, crossing the street directly in front of her car. 

granted, y/n hasn’t seen spencer in twenty years. she has no clue what he looks like nowadays, but everything from his ray bradbury book to his lanky frame to his beat up converse was familiar. her eyes clung to him, desperate to catch a glimpse of his face, but it never came. and y/n felt like she was going crazy. of all the places in the world, there’s no way that spencer reid’s life path had taken him all the way from nevada to the exact same city she lived in. 

but she didn’t have to wonder, or anxiously await the next time she saw the man by chance, because her best friend was a techy genius and no one could hide from her. y/n decided then, at that red light, that she’d ask penelope to find spencer, something she couldn’t even picture herself wanting just thirty seconds earlier.

y/n’s attempt at casually bringing the topic up is futile, because a.) penelope garcia is a very nosy woman, and b.)....penelope garcia is a very nosy woman. in all of the best ways. “who?” she inquires excitedly, halting all motion that could distract her from this very important conversation. 

“it’s kind of a long story,” y/n says, closing her magazine and sitting up. she crosses her legs, a seating pose that indicates that she’s devoting everything to explaining this to penelope. “so, when i was really little, there was this boy…” 

and the suspense is killing penelope. y/n’s launched into this whole story about blanket forts, and being young, and blah blah blah whatever, but she’s not giving up her male protagonist’s name. penelope has her hands poised at her keyboard, ready to give y/n a location, occupation, and criminal record in less than 30 seconds, but she just needs to know his name. y/n talks, and talks, and talks, and penelope, as the good friend and listener she is, doesn’t interrupt once except to ask a question. 

(“so your mom was sleeping with his dad?”

 “yes! my own mother! i know, right?”)

y/n’s oblivious to the fact that penelope is on the edge of her seat, hanging on her every single word, just waiting, waiting, agonizingly waiting for a name. 

“once, i even put jell-o down a girl’s shirt for this kid,” y/n laughs. “it was cherry flavored, i’ll never forget. my first badass moment.” she stops her story with a shared chuckle, and a silence settles over the two women for a moment. 

“so, did you want me to find this prince charming, or…” penelope waggles her fingers over her keyboard as to emphasize her point.

“oh! yeah! his name is-----” 

penelope’s phone rings, and they let out a frustrated groan in unison. y/n flops back into her laying down position, knowing that when penelope’s phone rings, it almost never bodes well for wine nights.

 ----------

“garcia!” spencer greets as soon as she answers.

“as much as i’m excited to hear from my favorite doctor-profiler-boy-genius, i wonder to what do i owe this pleasure?” penelope glances over at y/n, who has already found her way back into her cosmopolitan magazine. 

 “hey, i was wondering if you could look someone up for me. i know technically it’s not ethical but---”

 “do you have a name for me, wonder boy?” penelope asks. she’s not waiting a second longer for him to spill, lest she gets trapped in yet another long-winded backstory. 

 “uh, yeah. y/n y/l/n. she---,” spencer speaks, and is immediately transferred to hold, with a short and excited “wait!” from garcia. sure, she feels bad for cutting him off twice now during the short span of their phone call, but this? this is major. 

 “y/n, tell me his name is spencer reid,” penelope says, voice coming out rushed and full of eagerness. 

 y/n’s eyes go wide. penelope was really good at her job. she got his name just from her little jell-o story? “yeah, it is, pen!” y/n laughs. “what’s he up to these days?”

 penelope covers the receiver of her phone even though spencer was on hold and couldn’t hear her anyways. “he’s on the phone with me! we work together! we’re like, super close! y/n!” penelope is emphasizing her words with crazy hand gestures, the clinking of her bracelets serving as enthusiastic punctuation.

y/n doesn’t really know how to respond to this information. “he’s FBI?” she asks, stupidly. 

“that is so far beyond the point!” penelope exclaims. “he’s the guy i was texting you about earlier today, the one i wanted to set you up with!”

y/n, with a big goofy grin on her face, tosses a piece of popcorn at her head, watching as it gets stuck in one of her ponytails. “take him off of hold, penny!” excitement courses through her veins. she had seen him earlier. what are the odds?

spencer paces anxiously in his apartment. she’d dead. y/n is dead, and garcia’s trying to find the best way to tell him. that’s why she put him on hold, he knows. there’s a crackle in the phone, and garcia’s voice rings through the speaker. “spencer?” she asks, making sure he’s still on the line. there’s giggling on her end, pulling him to the conclusion that whatever garcia was about to say, at least y/n’s not dead.

 “yeah, garcia?” spencer says, too on edge to say more than a few words at a time. 

 “i’ve got probably a million and one things to tell you about a certain y/n y/l/n,” garcia says, voice mischievous. on her end, there’s a squawk of protest followed by some shuffling. 

spencer waits patiently, and then garcia’s voice is back. “i’ve got her right here with me, actually.” 

 spencer, overwhelmed with nerves, hangs up immediately. 

 “he hung up!” penelope screams, and the two women burst into laughter. penelope’s hunched over at her laptop, cackling.

“i can’t believe he hung up,” y/n says through her fit of giggles.

“you have to come to our work get-together this weekend and see him, y/n. spencer’s hosting!” penelope says.

“he clearly doesn’t want to talk to me,” y/n says jokingly, and they laugh again. not at the boy, but at the scenario. “also, no! no ‘get-togethers.’ you know i don’t do parties.”

 ------

 y/n’s on her way to the party. it took all of 15 seconds for penelope to convince her to be her plus-one. all she had to do is say the words “casual” and “wine” and y/n was in. she tried to ignore the fact that it would just be penelope’s coworkers, one of them being her estranged best friend, and her. at spencer’s apartment, nonetheless. it was bound to be awkward, but y/n tried to focus less on that and more on how excited penelope was to introduce her to spencer. re-introduce her, rather. 

 penelope offered to drive y/n to alleviate some of her nerves, and y/n accepted graciously. neither one of them had talked about spencer since the phone call, except for penelope casually mentioning that spencer hadn’t brought up y/n to her at work at all. they’d all spent the week in limbo, then. the drive to spencer’s apartment is generally silent, penelope jumping in with words of affirmation every so often, if not to calm y/n then just to make her laugh. y/n’s leg bounces as she looks out of the window of penelope’s car. 

when they arrive, after penelope’s parked, she turns to y/n. “y/n. you are colorful, beautiful, perfect, and every other nice word i can think of. everything will be fine. but if, by some odd, unpredictable chance, everything is not fine, say the word and we will be out of there faster than you can say ‘penny.’” y/n pulls her into a tight hug, and penelope can feel her heart beating.

“what if he just tells me to, like, fuck off?” y/n murmurs.

“reid would never. he could never,” penelope says. with that reassurance, they get out of her car and head up to the party.

 -------

y/n stares at spencer’s front door as penelope knocks. the paint on it is chipping, she notes. spencer swings open the door and hoots erupt through the apartment. 

“garcia’s here!”

“hey, garcia!”

“babygirl!”

everyone’s calling for her, so she snakes past spencer and into his home with a pat on his chest. he’s stuck in the doorway and y/n’s stuck in the hall. neither of them know what to say to each other, so they’re sticking to intense eye contact and nervous foot shuffling. y/n’s here, at his apartment. he’s shocked. she’s real, she’s here, and here is his apartment.

 “you look the same,” they say at the same time, and then, at the absurdity of the situation, they laugh together. y/n, feeling empowered by the diffusion of the tension, wraps her arms around him in a hug. he’s broad, she notes. he hugs her tightly, holding on a second too long as compensation for the fact that he’d never know when their last hug had been their last. 

 “come in, come in,” spencer says. as he’s ushering her inside, hand against her lower back, he speaks again. y/n’s acutely aware of his coworkers eyes on her, but she’s distracted by his voice. “did you know that we begin to forget childhood memories while we’re in childhood still? younger children remember 60 percent of early life events, and that goes down by 20 percent in just a year or two.” 

 “hmm, so it’s weird that you remember me, then?” y/n teases as he hands her a glass of white wine.

“well, i don’t, really,” he admits, and y/n hums in agreement against the rim of her drink. 

penelope calls y/n over to where she’s sitting and introduces her to the team. y/n takes notes. penelope never really combines her work and her play, telling y/n it’s to keep her safe, so y/n revels in this insight into her best friend’s life.

 jj, the pretty blonde, seems to be the glue of the group, y/n judges. emily’s guarded, but fun, and y/n sees a lot of herself in her. derek is penelope’s favorite, y/n knows, and it’s not hard to figure out why. he’s attractive, but more than that, he’s charismatic and intelligent. y/n can’t get a good read on hotch, but she likes him well enough. rossi’s her favorite, though, his laidback, cool demeanor just mysterious enough to pique her curiosity. y/n greets everyone with a warm hello and a short introduction, and finds her place at penelope’s side.

she’s out of place for sure, but the team tries their hardest to include her. they’ve got great chemistry as a group, and y/n wins their favor when she cracks a dry joke that gets everyone laughing. she can feel spencer’s eyes on her the whole night, but she doesn’t indulge him by looking back. she’s too nervous. he keeps her glass filled all night, a gracious host, and when she thanks him each time he gives her a shaky smile. he’s nervous too, she realizes.

 when people start filtering out, y/n realizes she’d hardly spoken to spencer all night, save for some light small talk with others. she’d really like to get him alone, but she doesn’t want to overstep. spencer looks at her intently when she stands to leave with garcia. he wants to get her alone, but he doesn’t want to overstep. be bold, spencer, he thinks. it’s just y/n. but it’s not just y/n anymore. they aren’t kids anymore, blindly bonded to one another out of convenience. there’s nothing tying them together anymore except for some flimsy memories, and this scares spencer. y/n’s also insanely beautiful. this adds to his nerves. it’s not too often he has a pretty girl in his apartment alone.

 “you can stay longer if you want, y/n. i’ll drive you home,” spencer says, his words surprising even himself. his eyebrows furrow and y/n wants to smooth the crease in his forehead with her thumb. 

“okay,” she says softly, turning to penelope. “i’ll see you tomorrow, pen?” they embrace, and penelope says her bright goodbyes. when she leaves, y/n leans against the closed front door, staring at spencer expectantly. 

“do you want another drink?” he asks her, unsure of what to do with his hands. 

“no, i think i’m sufficiently tipsy-adjacent,” y/n jokes, placing her hands decidedly on spencer’s shoulders. “i think you and i should talk.” 

“yeah,” spencer replies, his amber eyes searching hers. “we can sit outside.” he leads her to his balcony, and takes a seat on his outdoor couch. 

“it looks like it might rain,” y/n says lamely, sitting next to him, close enough for their thighs to touch.

“did you know women are more likely to give a man their phone number on a sunny day rather than a cloudy one? there’s only a 14% success rate when it’s rainy, as opposed to a 22% success rate when the sun’s out.”

“that’s interesting, spencer. were you planning on asking for my number?” y/n asks jokingly. spencer flushes at the question, stammering a defense. “just kidding. you sure do know a lot of stuff, don’t you?”

“sure,” he says with a bite of his lip. “i have three phds. what i don’t know, though, is where you went when you left vegas. or why you left vegas. or…”

“or why i didn’t tell you i was leaving?” y/n finishes for him. he gives a small nod, embarrassed to admit how much it affected him, and y/n frowns. she lays the palm of her hand against his face, rubbing her thumb against his cheekbone. spencer’s taken aback by the affectionate action, but leans into her touch anyways. y/n holds that position for a minute, surveying his features. she’s not ready to tell him the story, honestly. it’s humiliating. save from the fact that her mom essentially ruined his parents’ marriage; she didn’t know the nature of spencer’s relationship with his father now. for all she knows, it’d done a complete 180 in the past 20 years, and she’d ruin everything with her anecdote. no, she couldn’t risk this. spencer looked too pretty under the moonlight, was too nice to her tonight.

“would you be mad if i didn’t want to talk about that yet?” she asks, tracing her finger down the bridge of his nose. spencer feels a little relieved by this. he’s prepared for that conversation to be a heavy one, prepared for her to say she left because of him. because he wasn’t good enough for her. he doesn’t think he can handle that confirmation tonight, so he welcomes the change in subject. 

“can we just...start over?” spencer says.

 y/n nods. “hi, i’m y/n,” she holds her hand out to shake, finally removing it from against his face. spencer takes it with a small smile. 

“i’m spencer,” he replies. they sit in silence for a while, watching the stars. the moment is long, but it feels like they’re suspended in time. like the cars and people underneath them have come to a standstill. spencer reckons y/n’s always had that effect on him, but the hustle of the city disappearing around him makes it much more pronounced.  spencer steals a quick glance at her. she looks so serene. he wonders if she’s thinking as much as he is, or if she’s simply appreciating the city sounds and night air. 

“are you thinking as much as i am?” y/n pipes up, breaking the silence. 

spencer shakes his head incredulously with a chuckle. “you took the words right out of my mouth.” 

y/n turns to face him, pulling her knees to her chest. “tell me a story. like you used to.” when spencer’s gaze meets hers, y/n’s hand moves to tuck a piece of his hair behind his ear, the movement nearly involuntary. there’s a low rumble of thunder, but it sounds far away. 

“okay,” spencer says, neither one of them breaking eye contact. he remembers her eyes being much more vibrant, but he likes the true hue better. and whenever she thought of him, y/n had always imagined glasses, like when he was a child, but being able to see his face clearly is so much better. 

“actually,” y/n starts. she finishes her statement by pressing her lips against spencer’s firmly. he threads his hands through her hair and pulls her closer to him, letting out a soft moan. the kiss is passionate, but not lustful. it’s gentle and full of energy. y/n nips at spencer’s bottom lip. he tastes like sangria. his hand travels to the side of her face, thumb rubbing against her cheek slowly. he kisses her like she's oxygen and he’s never had a breath of fresh air in his life. 

after a minute, y/n pulls away slowly, resting her forehead on his. “okay, now you can tell me a story.” 

spencer presses another chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth. “how do you expect me to remember anything right now?” 

y/n grins, pulling away from their intimate position and turning to face the stars. “i can wait. i’ve got all night.” 

[chocoluckchipz]

The Other You - 21

Read it on A03, FF.net, WattPad

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Whatever alcohol was present in her system evaporated alongside Chat Noir’s mask dissolving from his face. The moment the last bit of electric green disappeared, Marinette froze. 

It couldn’t be true. 

Chat Noir…

Chat Noir was Adrien?

Her Chaton was Adrien Agreste?

She stumbled back, barely able to breathe. A shiver ran down her spine as her body moved on its own, her hands covering her mouth in disbelief. 

Because this… this didn’t make any sense!

Her eyes must be deceiving her. 

Adrien couldn’t be Chat Noir! 

Chat Noir couldn’t be Adrien Agreste!

That was impossible!

It shouldn’t…

He watched her for what felt like an eternity. Her head spun, cold spreading to her very core. Adrien looked away, turning around. She couldn’t move, her body gripped by an invisible force. He called for his transformation and walked to the balcony’s door. Marinette couldn’t utter a single sound. Chat vanished into the night, but she continued to stand in her place barely breathing. 

Chat Noir was Adrien Agreste!

Chat Freaking Noir was…

Chat…

Something pinched her cheek, the pain bringing her out of the trance.

“Are you alright?” Tikki hovered at her eye level, her eyes big and blue and filled with worry.

“No,” Marinette whispered, sinking to the floor. Her body trembling, she clutched her hands together. “Chat is Adrien. Did you see, Tikki? Chat Noir is Adrien Agreste.”

“Yes. I saw that.” 

“Chat… is Adrien…” 

Chat Noir’s words that confused the heck out of her just a few moments ago suddenly made a whole lot of sense. She couldn’t remember everything he’d let out, but there was one bit that popped right at the top of her mind.

 The truth, Marinette, is that you are the one who doesn’t love me.

 Her heart tightened, breathing shallow and quick. 

That wasn’t true! 

She loved Chat! She loved him with her whole heart. 

Adrien? Gosh! If the last few weeks could prove anything it was that Marinette was still very much unable to resist him. Falling in love with Adrien must be in her genes or something, and she wasn’t talking solely about physical attraction. She loved his soul, his character, his kind heart. She loved the person he was, not just his looks. Otherwise, there would be no need to cut him off as cruelly and unequivocally as she'd done in order to stay faithful to Chat Noir.   

Her vision blurred. Marinette swallowed the lump in her throat, her gaze falling onto the dining table. The candles burned low in the middle alongside a cheese platter, a bowl of grapes, and a bottle of wine with two glasses set by each place setting. He was a horrible cook, but he’d tried his best to prepare at least something for her when she was too busy partying to do it herself. 

Her stomach dropped, every muscle in her body numbing. He'd given her a place to live basically for free when officially they were still enemies. He’d instituted a curfew and opened a cafeteria at work to keep her alive and healthy. Marinette closed her eyes, swallowing her pride. Sooner or later she had to admit it. 

He did it solely for her.

When she wasn’t taking care of herself, Adrien used whatever power he had to keep her nourished and rested to help her recover her sanity and health… all while they were still at odds with one another.

 I should've been smarter than to help you again as soon as I saw you struggling. But, no! I just had to rush in with my help, all while you despised me so much you couldn’t even stand to be in the same room with me for more than five minutes!

 The beating of her heart echoed in her ears, images of Adrien popping in front of her eyes. 

Adrien trying his best to be friendly and help her at work. Adrien apologizing for his mistakes and going above and beyond to earn her forgiveness. Adrien smiling and laughing with her. Their easy conversations in the last few weeks. His eagerness and his sincerity in trying to win her friendship again. The comfort of his company. Subtle glances she hadn't missed. The fire they ignited in the pit of her stomach. The hurt that filled his eyes at her outburst at the after-party.

Marinette curled in on herself, wrapping her hands around her head. A pitiful moan escaped her lips. It all made sense now. 

 I’ve tried so hard for you to like me.

 Was this why he shied away after the reveal? Was this why he doubted her feelings? Was this why he refused to kiss her? Because she claimed to love him in the mask while pushing away his civilian self?

 Stupid, brainless, and pathetic because despite knowing everything, knowing you hated me and knowing you’d never forgive me… I still managed to fall in love with you. 

 Her eyes snapped open. She stood hastily, catching herself on a nearby chair when her feet fumbled underneath her. “I have to go to him.”

Tikki zoomed to her face. “Marinette, no. Please, don’t rush into anything. It never ends well when you do that.”

“But, Tikki, I have to. He’s my partner and he’s hurting. I hurt him. I have to go—” 

“He’s your partner who is also Adrien. And Adrien would expect you to answer his question the next time you see him. Are you ready to give him an answer now?”

“What question?”

“Can you look Adrien in the eyes and tell him that you love him without the slightest doubt? Can you trust him with your heart again?”

She was about to scream ‘Yes!’ She had forgiven him. She was certainly attracted to him. She enjoyed his company and loved the man he had become. 

Was it enough, though, for the kind of love she knew he wanted? 

Could she look at him and tell him she loved all of him with all of his faults and with their history? More importantly, could she trust him enough to open her heart and give him a chance? Because the “can’t fully trust you” bit Marinette threw at Adrien back at the after-party wasn’t as baseless as it seemed. She might have forgiven him, she might have been falling in love with him, but building back the trust they once shared required time that simply hadn’t passed yet.

Was she ready for the kind of commitment Adrien wanted and deserved?

Marinette couldn’t say. She wasn’t sure. Making that choice at this moment terrified her. 

“You have to be careful with this,” Tikki said, gently cuddling her holder’s cheek. “There’s a lot at stake. His heart is at stake. Yours too. Please. I don’t want you two getting hurt anymore. I'm not sure either of you can handle any more of the heartache, and we both know that when you act on an impulse, you tend to overreact and say or do things you don’t mean. So, please, Marinette. Don’t rush. Calm down. Think about it and, only when you’re absolutely certain in your decision, act.”

Shaking, Marinette closed her eyes, weaving her arms around her torso. “I have to talk to him, Tikki.”

“And you will. But take some time to figure out your feelings first. This might be a life-changing decision for both of you. Please, don't take it lightly. Don't act recklessly when it’s someone’s heart on the line.”

Marinette looked at Tikki, but images of others stood before her eyes. Alya. Nino. Adrien. Perhaps, even her own parents. Who knew how many more. All the times she hurt those she loved, acting impulsively, without thinking, following her temper, trying to prove herself right or achieve what she wanted, turning a blind eye to the needs and desires of others. She really had become like Gabriel Agreste, and she didn't like it. 

Unlike Gabriel, though, she still had the time and a chance to change. Innately, she was a good person and meant well; her heart was sure of it. But Tikki was right. Good intentions could and would turn horribly wrong if executed poorly. That much Marinette had learned quite well recently. And after a few insanely busy months of work, fresh off the rollercoaster of emotions that was this day and still somewhat tipsy after the party, Marinette was not in a state to think clearly right now. No matter how much she hated the idea, it would be better indeed for Marinette to resist her urge to go after him. She had to handle this carefully. This wasn’t a game.

“You need to recover, both physically and emotionally first.” Tikki continued on. “Pass your ESMOD exam. Isn’t it the day after tomorrow?”

Marinette nodded. “This Friday. I still need to read some of the material.”

“Then, focus on that for now. Afterwards, you’ll have a clear mind and the whole weekend to think before you have to see Adrien at work on Monday. That should be enough time to at least get an idea of how you want to move forward.”

“Perhaps, you’re right,” Marinette responded barely audibly, absentmindedly sitting at the table. Pulling one of the candles to herself, she cradled it in her palms. The flame fluttered on the candle’s wick, claiming her gaze and attention as the two men she now knew to be one merged together in her mind. 

It wasn’t just Adrien anymore who went behind her back and betrayed her trust, daring to compromise her biggest dream, even if with the best of intentions. 

No. 

That man was now also Chat Noir. 

But it also wasn’t just Chat Noir with whom she’d fought akumas for a decade, who comforted her when she was hurting, who was her best friend and always, always understood and supported her. It wasn’t just her Chaton anymore with whom she could trust her life without a doubt. It wasn’t just her partner anymore who had been proving his love for her daily for years. Who had died multiple times, protecting her!

It was also Adrien. 

Marinette closed her eyes, breathing in deeply. She needed time to come to terms with this, to find sense, to fully grasp the truth she wanted so badly but turned out to be more than she could handle at the moment.

“You should go to bed,” Tikki said, blowing out the candles in the middle of the table. “It’s past midnight already.”

“I should,” Marinette echoed and picked up the still lit candle in front of her. The flame flickered, dancing around. Beautiful. Warm and life-giving, yet so extremely dangerous at the same time. It called and mesmerized. Were she to answer its call, she would be burned. Was she ready to answer Adrien, knowing that her answer could burn them both should she be too careless?

She was too tired to know the answer herself. 

With a single breath, Marinette extinguished the flame and followed Tikki to her bedroom.

***

The sun peeked over the horizon. Marinette groaned under her covers, shifting onto her stomach. Hugging her pillow, she buried her face into it, hiding her eyes, red and puffy from hours upon hours of tossing and turning and quietly crying in between, from the light. None of the tricks she knew had helped her fall asleep. The blissful oblivion of a dreamland felt farther away with each passing moment as a single thought hammered at her mind relentlessly.

She had to talk to him. 

Yes, she had agreed that it was better for her to stay away until she was calmer, sober, and sure of her feelings and desires. She had to act carefully as not to hurt him again but… Wouldn't he take her silence for an answer? Wouldn't her not reaching out tell Adrien that she wanted neither him nor what they had between themselves back in her life? She didn't want him to think that. She hated the idea.

“Tikki?” Marinette murmured into the silence of her room. 

The kwami hummed and raised her head from the pillow beside her. 

“I was thinking. Maybe I can send him a message? Just to tell him that I need time to think? You know, so he isn't left in the dark and doesn't start assuming things?”

“A message?” Tikki blinked sleepily at her.

Marinette propped herself on her arms, her mind clearer than at any point of the last few days. “Yes. A key to a good relationship is communication, right? So I think we should start to communicate. I don't want him to think I’m giving up and moving on. I want him to know I’m taking this seriously, and I just need time to figure things out. Or something like that.”

Tikki’s smile was gentle and loving, as she flew closer to Marinette. “That’s a great idea. You can transform and leave him a message on his communicator. Plagg will let him know.”

A hint of hope filling her chest, Marinette cradled Tikki in her palms, nuzzling her little face. “I don't want to mess this up again. I love him.”

“Something tells me you will do just fine this time around. Now, transform and leave him a message. You’ll need to catch at least some sleep if you want to pass that exam.”

“Right.” Marinette got out of bed. The array of colours in the sky outside her window were breathtaking. A new day. Another chance. She wouldn't mess this one up. She would take into account her every mistake and do much better this time around. And she would start it with a message to her Chaton, a few words that hopefully would make him feel better.

Determination in her eyes, Marinette never turned away from the rising sun as she commanded, “Tikki, spots on!”

***

Thursday, Marinette buried herself under the reading materials needed to pass her exam. She struggled to keep her concentration, Adrien being constantly on her mind. Friday, she did a quick review in the morning and headed to ESMOD in the afternoon. The lucky charm Adrien gave her was the only object apart from a water bottle on her desk during the examination. Upon exiting the building afterwards, he was the first person she wanted to tell that it was easier than she’d expected, that after years of experience she knew her stuff, and if there were a few questions she didn’t know, Marinette doubted the holes in her fashion history knowledge would greatly impact her final marks. Unfortunately, she wasn’t ready to face him yet. She texted the next best person.

 Marinette: All done. I should know the results in a few days, but I’m feeling pretty confident about this.

Alya: Congrats, girl! I’m sure you passed with flying colours and I expect a party when you get your diploma. 

Marinette: LOL Of course. We’ll invite half of Paris and make lots of noise about it.

Alya: Don’t know about half of Paris, but Nino, me and Adrien better be there. You two did start talking again, didn’t you? And I mean not just business-related topics.

Marinette: It’s a bit complicated at the moment.

Alya: Complicated enough to exclude the man who requested and paid for your ESMOD exam?

 Marinette stilled, looking at her cell phone in confusion. Was she too exhausted after her test to read properly or were her eyes deceiving her? 

 Marinette: What are you talking about?

Marinette: Weren’t you the one to get me an exam through some of your contacts? 

Marinette: And what payment?

Alya: I did snoop around and found out that in your case only your direct supervisor could request the exam you needed under the “obtaining extra qualifications” program. There was also a hefty fee to go along. I told Nino. Nino mentioned it to Adrien. What magic Adrien performed I don’t know, but a few days later he texted me with the information to pass to you. 

 Marinette reread Alya’s messages at least three times before sitting down on a nearby bench. 

Was there anything good in her life recently that Adrien wasn’t involved in? 

Because it seemed that without him, she’d be in a whole different place right now. Her success, her promising future, her wellbeing, her health, perhaps even her very life—she owed that all to Adrien. 

 Alya: Plus, he brings the best wine and cheese. You simply must invite him!

 Marinette gripped her phone, debating. Telling Alya the truth was out of the question. Avoiding the subject it was, then.

 Marinette: Let’s wait for the results first. 

Marinette: About to go underground. Ttyl

Alya: Love you, girl. And let me know as soon as you get those results so I can start planning.

Marinette: Of course. <3

 Her cellphone back in her purse, Marinette descended into the Metro station. The trip back to the apartment didn’t take long. Adrien haunted her thoughts the whole way. 

He did so much good for her. As Chat Noir and as Adrien. And he didn’t seem to expect anything in return. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be doing it all behind her back. 

A few months ago Marinette would have assumed Adrien was helping her only because he didn’t think she could handle it herself, but she couldn’t say that anymore. Not when she knew Adrien and Chat Noir were one and the same. Marinette knew too well how much Chat respected her and her abilities. He helped her in battles, but he never did her job for her. He always acknowledged her competence, openly admitting that out of the two of them, she was the one best fitted for Ladybug’s role with all the skills and responsibility it demanded. 

Similarly, Adrien didn’t design or sew her collection for her. She did. He just hired her an assistant and made sure she was physically and mentally capable of doing the work herself. Adrien might have gotten her that exam, but she was the one who studied and took it. His help didn’t diminish her achievements and the more Marinette thought about it, the more grateful she felt, shame for the way she treated him in return overwhelming her at the same time. 

She had to make it right! And she had to find a way to do so quickly.

Entering the apartment, Marinette glanced in the kitchen’s direction in confusion. The light was on. Hesitantly, she entered the room but it was empty. Her sight fell to the table. A white envelope and two small boxes rested on its surface, accompanied by a small bag and a note. She picked up the note first, her heart quickening its pace. She knew that handwriting.

 I put some grapes for Duusu in the fridge for the first few days. He prefers the green, sweet variety in case you need to buy more.

 Marinette reached for the bag, finding nothing but good quality silk cut in pieces inside with another note indicating those were for Nooroo. Next, she opened one of the boxes. An electric orb erupted in front of her, a peacock kwami appearing in the middle. 

“Duusu?”

“At your service, My Guardian.” The kwami bowed.

Marinette reached for the second box, the butterfly kwami soon joining them.

“We missed you so much,” Tikki cried, flying in for a group hug with her long-missing friends. “I’m so happy you both are safe.”

She gave the kwamis a few moments to themselves. Once the initial emotions subsided, Marinette reached forward and pulled them all to her chest.

“Welcome back, guys,” she whispered. “We’ve missed you. Let’s get you into the Miracle Box. I’m sure all of your friends can’t wait to see you again.”

She quickly put both miraculouses into their slots in the Miracle Box, sending everyone and Tikki to the kwamis’ space to celebrate. Once alone, Marinette went back to the dining room. Her eyes focused on the only object left on the table she hadn’t touched yet—the letter. 

There was only one person who could’ve delivered Nooroo and Duusu. The letter must also be from him. She reached for it, jerking her hand back almost immediately. Marinette bit her lip, trying to touch the letter again. A shiver ran down her back. She withdrew again. A few moments and a couple of other failed attempts later, Marinette jumped to her feet and paced the room. Her breathing shallow, she tried to calm down and muster the courage.   

What was in it?

What did he write?

Did he curse her name?

Was he leaving a door open for her?

Why was she so terrified of reading it?

“You can do it. You can do it. You can do it, Marinette!” she chanted before snatching the envelope off the table and opening it before she could overthink it again.

 Good evening, Marinette.

I apologize for the intrusion. I know you said you needed time to think and I respect that and will wait no matter how long it takes. However, I promised to deliver Nooroo and Duusu to you and this was the only way I could think of doing so safely and without us meeting. There are also a few things I owe to tell you. That night, you asked me for the whole truth, but I delivered only some of it. A letter seems like the most appropriate method for the rest.

Before, though, I want to apologize for my outburst. My actions and words that night were unacceptable and I said things that I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry for hurting you, and I know I can't fix anything now, but I wanted you to know that despite what it may have sounded like, I don't blame you for anything. Shit happens. We all make mistakes. Some are just impossible to fix and I could never blame you for not trusting me because of my own actions.

Now, the whole truth you wanted. I won’t discuss my identity in depth. There is really not much to it. My name is Adrien Agreste. I received the Black Cat miraculous when I was fourteen and have been Chat Noir ever since. 

My father. I found out that he was Hawkmoth when I visited the mansion for those sketches you needed. I stumbled upon the butterfly miraculous in one of the drawers in his desk. Nooroo then told me about the peacock miraculous my father kept in his safe, and that Nathalie, my father’s assistant, used to be Mayura. I didn’t know either of those things before that evening, and I wish I’d never found out, but knowing my father, I was hardly surprised. 

Lastly, Felix. My cousin, Felix Graham de Vanily, lives in London and is a skilled designer, but he wasn’t the one who was assisting you these past few months. The truth is—I couldn’t find a qualified assistant for you in time, so I figured I could use Nooroo’s power to make up for my incompetence. Long story short, I akumatized myself into ‘Felix’ so I could use his skills to help you. I hope you can forgive me for that. I swear, if I could have found you a real assistant in the time frame I had, I would’ve, but it wasn't happening and time was pressing and I didn’t know what else to do. I’m sorry. And I’m sorry for the mess ‘Felix’ was. Unfortunately, being an akuma, I couldn’t control my actions and words, and I know I made you uncomfortable far too many times as ‘Felix’. I’m sorry about that. ‘Felix’ won’t be returning so you don’t have to worry about him anymore. The HR department will find you a new assistant soon. 

I guess that’s it. That’s all of my secrets, the whole truth. 

I dare, though, to ask you for a favour. I know as a Guardian, it’s your duty to gather all of the miraculouses back into the Miracle Box, but I beg you to allow me to keep Plagg. He’s been by my side for most of my life. He’s my best friend, the only family I still have. I can’t give him up. Not yet. I know there will be a point in time where I’d have to, but if I may, I’d like to hold onto him for now. I can keep you updated on his whereabouts at any given time, so you’ll be able to claim him if the need ever arises, but I’d really appreciate it if you can grant us some more time together.

One more thing, I’m sorry for what happened on that terrace. I never meant to push you to cheat on your “boyfriend”. I only wanted you to like me. I wanted you to see potential in me, so that when I revealed my identity later, you wouldn't reject me straight away. I didn't plan to kiss you. I just wanted to spend some time with you and got caught up in the moment. And I’m so, so sorry for that. I just can’t seem to think straight when it comes to you. And I don’t know if this matters anymore, but for what it’s worth, I avoided kissing you as Chat Noir not because I didn’t love you, Marinette, but because I knew you’d hate to kiss Adrien. I couldn’t do that to you. I couldn’t let you kiss the person you hate just because he had a mask on his face. 

I’m sorry if my feelings have been too much of a nuisance. I would completely understand if you decide to move on, and if that is the case, I won’t be bothering you anymore. Adrien won’t be coming back to Gabriel. Chat Noir will vanish as well. I love you too much to keep hurting you, and it seems that’s the only thing I do every time I get close. 

Please, forgive me. I never meant any harm. Thank you for everything you’ve given me. I’ll treasure every memory with you forever.

Adrien.

P.S. Good luck with your ESMOD exam. You'll do great!

P.P.S. Just thought I’d mention that you can stay at the apartment for as long as you need. I don’t use it anyway, and I don’t think I’ll be using it any time soon. When you decide to move out, leave the keys on a table and tape a note to the window, facing the writing outside. I’ll see it eventually.

 Tears pooling in her eyes, Marinette couldn’t look away. 

That idiot!

He did what? 

Doesn’t he know how dangerous—

No! It couldn’t be true! Could it?

She rushed back to the Miracle Box and took out Nooroo’s miraculous. 

“Tell me this isn’t true,” she demanded, as soon as the kwami appeared. “Tell me Adrien didn’t akumatize himself daily for months.”

 His mouth slightly ajar, Nooroo stared at her wide-eyed for a few moments before guiltily bowing his head. “He did.” 

Marinette groaned, facepalming. “How stupid could he get? Doesn’t he know how dangerous it is? There is a reason there are always two people involved in akumatazation. He could’ve easily lost control and endangered all of us.”

“Master Adrien knew the danger,” Nooroo shyly added. “That’s why he asked Plagg to keep him in line.”

“Plagg? Plagg is a kwami. How could he keep an akuma in line?”

“Master Adrien used a very fragile object for the akuma to infect, something that Plagg could easily break when needed.”

She quirked an eyebrow. That was actually very clever. “What object?”

“Your picture.”

Marinette stilled, silently staring at Nooroo for a full half-minute before uttering, “My picture?”

The kwami nodded. “Master Adrien said that because his goal was to help you, it only made sense to use your picture. In a way, he was also counting on it to keep his akumatized self from seeking other goals which, honestly, wouldn’t be an issue anyway because Plagg could de-akumatize him at a moment’s notice if he’d strayed to something different.”

Marinette sat on her bed. "By tearing up the object, in this case, a picture, right?"

“Yes.” Nooroo smiled. “Plagg had lots of fun doing that. I suspect that’s the only reason he agreed to the whole ordeal in the first place.”

“To rip up some paper?”

“Not exactly.” Nooroo chuckled. “You see, as expected, Master Adrien as an akuma didn’t want to leave your side, trying to help you with everything he could. However, he had other responsibilities, so he couldn’t afford to do that. After a few days of failing to control his ‘help Marinette’ urges, Master Adrien allowed Plagg to do whatever it took to get him out of the room and de-akumatize him at an appointed time.” Nooroo grinned. “Plagg tried different approaches and soon discovered that Master Adrien is very ticklish. Since then, all he had to do was to start tickling him and when Master Adrien couldn’t take it anymore, he’d leave the room to get rid of the annoyance. Once in a hallway, though, Plagg would tear up the picture and Master Adrien would be de-akumatized.”

Marinette couldn’t help a snicker, a lopsided smile sneaking onto her lips. 

This. 

This actually explained so much. Like why ‘Felix’ was so overbearingly helpful with everything. Obsessively, even. Or why he would never warn her that he was leaving, instead vanishing without as much as a goodbye. Or why he seemed to always be extremely uncomfortable right before disappearing. After a while, Marinette had just assumed he had some kind of a health issue and since it wasn't her place to pry, she'd decided ‘Felix’ would tell her when and if he wanted to. The real reason behind his strange behaviour was way too hilarious for her not to laugh. 

Who would’ve thought that it wasn’t some secret disease but a pesky kwami tickling his idiot of a wielder to get him out of the room?

The space filled with giggles, her eyes with tears, Marinette laughed. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to see the process of his de-akumatization! Adrien probably looked so adorable after being forced to release the butterfly and drop the transformation. Dishevelled, disoriented, and lost like a kitten. A moment later, he’d be sporting a kicked puppy look, glaring and pouting at his smug kwami, yet unable to do anything because he was the one to ask for it. That would’ve been quite a sight to behold.

“He’s such a dummy,” she giggled. “What was he thinking?” 

It was a rhetorical question, one Marinette didn’t expect an answer to, so when Nooroo gave her one, she froze.

“He was thinking of you. Master Adrien was always thinking of helping you, akuma or not. I just gave him the means to do what he wanted.”

Unable to look away, Marinette stared at Nooroo for a short while before dropping her eyes to her hands, clenched together in her lap. “Why? He didn’t know I was Ladybug when he started helping me. I was just a girl who hurt him. Who considered him an enemy for years and wanted nothing to do with him. Why would he go to such lengths to help me?” 

“I might have an answer to that,” Tikki said, flying closer. “Do you remember how the Black Cat’s miraculous wielder is chosen, Marinette?”

Her eyebrows knit in a frown, as Marinette tried to recall Master Fu's lessons. Ladybugs were chosen based on their ability to think outside the box and see things differently. People called it "creativity" but it was so much more than that.  

Black Cats were chosen… 

Her heart quickened its pace, eyes widening a fraction. 

Black Cats were chosen based on the purity of their hearts. It didn’t mean they were perfect and never made mistakes, but it took a really strong and immeasurably kind person to contain the destruction that Plagg embodied. 

With a groan, Marinette fell on her bed face up. She closed her eyes, letting memories flood her mind. She’d fallen in love with Adrien because of his kindness. She’d fallen for Chat because of his loyalty. The man she was getting to know these last few months was still just as kind and loyal, going beyond his abilities to help an estranged and bitter girl who had hated him for years. 

Her eyes filled with tears. How blind and stupid and completely unreasonable she was. How far gone in her resentment she must have been to doubt his intentions. She knew Adrien. She knew how kind and innocent and loving he was. Then why? What happened to her to get them here?

Most importantly, would he ever forgive her?

Because she loved that man. She loved him so much it hurt. 

“I have my answer, Tikki,” Marinette whispered into the silence of the room. 

“You do?”

“Yes. I love him, and I know I can trust him. All of him. With my life.”

“How about your heart?”

Marinette propped herself on her elbows and looked at Tikki, a smile gracing her lips. “Absolutely.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am. I know it won’t be a smooth ride and we’ll need to figure stuff out and work on it, but if he’ll have me, I’m more than willing to give us another chance and will do whatever it takes to make us work.”

Tikki smiled, leaning against Marinette’s cheek and snuggling. “Good. I’m glad you’ve made a decision you’re happy with.”

“We should go see him now. He’s been waiting long enough.”

Tikki closed her eyes and concentrated on something for a few moments before smiling apologetically at Marinette. "Plagg isn't in the ring, meaning Adrien isn't transformed.”

“You can feel him? Can you tell me where to find him?”

Tikki shook her head. “I can only feel Chat Noir’s energy. That’s how you can locate him with Ladybug’s yo-yo. But unless Adrien transformed, I wouldn't be able to pick up anything. Built-in identity protection.”

“Then maybe I can…” 

Oh, crap.

She didn’t have his contact information. They exchanged neither phone numbers nor emails because at first she didn’t want anything to do with him, and later it never came up. Adrien was always available at the office should she need him. Chat visited her daily and she could contact him through their communicators when he was transformed. Marinette could probably ask Alya or Nino for his number, but she didn’t really want to involve them. Alya was sure to pry and Marinette didn’t want to answer any questions before she and Adrien had a chance to talk. Plus, talking face to face would probably be the best option in their situation. 

‘Okay, then. We can get his number from the office tomo—” Marinette groaned, closing her eyes. “It's Friday. The office is closed until next week.”

“I can let you know if I sense Chat Noir if you want.”

“Thanks, Tikki. That’ll be great. And if not then I guess, we’re getting his number on Monday.”

Tikki placed a tiny kiss on Marinette’s cheek. “I’m proud of you, Marinette. You’ve grown so much.”

Marinette snuggled the kwami close. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Of course you could have,” Tikki smiled. “After all, you’re Ladybug. You can do anything you set your mind to.”

“Only if I have my partner by my side,” Marinette added. “There’s a reason our miraculouses are the only ones that come in a pair, isn’t there, Tikki?”

The kwami let a smile split her mouth as she nodded. “There absolutely is.” 

Unlike the previous nights, today Marinette slept soundly. Her mind made up, she dreamed of how their meeting would go, what she’d say, how Adrien would react. Would he forgive her? Would he finally kiss her now that there were no more secrets between them and he knew she didn’t hate him?

***

The morning brought more pleasant surprises—an email from Sofia Tentazione, a representative for Muï Muï, a fashion house Marinette loved probably just as much as Gabriel. She’d met Sofia at Gabriel’s afterparty and they exchanged contacts, but Marinette had never expected to hear from her. And yet, now she was staring at an email in which Sofia was asking if Marinette would be available to come in for an interview with their head designer in Milan next Wednesday. At the bottom of the email, the postscript stated that as long as Marinette showed up to that interview, she was guaranteed a job at Muï Muï. Apparently, the head designer hadn’t been so impressed with someone’s work in a long time and didn’t even bother hiding his intentions to scout Marinette for himself. The interview was supposedly scheduled only to comply with the house’s hiring process.

“Tikki, am I still asleep?”

“I can check.” Tikki nonchalantly flew closer with a wide grin on her face.

Marinette jerked away, glaring at the kwami. “No, thank you. I know the way you check. I had a bruise for a week last time you checked.”

"You were definitely awake at that time."

“And I’m perfectly awake right now. No pinching required.”

“Why did you ask for it then?”

“I didn’t. I’m just shocked. I have a job offer from Muï Muï! Can you believe it?”

“That’s great,” Tikki smiled, before turning serious. “Will you take it?”

Of course! 

Why would Tikki even ask? Isn’t it why Marinette almost killed herself trying to get the collection done? To get a good job offer from someone so amazing in her situation was nothing short of a miracle.

Why wouldn’t she take it?

Yet something nagged at her. She hesitated. 

“I… I don’t know. I mean, this is a great opportunity, and this is what I wanted, but… I’d have to move to Milan.”

“And leave Adrien behind,” Tikki added.

Marinette bit her lip, every nerve ending in her body tingling. Tikki was right. Adrien wouldn’t move for her. She had no right to even ask that of him. He had a job and his father’s company to take care of in Paris. He couldn’t just abandon it all and move to a different country only to see if they could make it work. 

If he wanted to see if they could work in the first place. 

The truth hit her hard. All the happy fantasies she’d dreamt up last night disappearing, replaced by fear and guilt. Why would he even want her after the way she treated him? Adrien wasn’t a fool. Why would he risk it when all she did was hurt him? In fact, he wouldn’t. He said it himself in that letter—despite still loving her, he was willing to step away because he couldn’t bear to hurt her anymore. 

Her heart ached. Even in this, he was thinking of her first. Was he even real? She certainly didn’t deserve his love. Perhaps this job offer was her answer then. She’d move away and it’d be easier for both of them to get over each other and find happiness with someone else.

She swallowed back the lump in her throat, a low tremor running down her spine. Funny. This situation resembled their first argument so much—she had to choose between him and her career then, too. Only now that amazing job offer in Milan wasn’t nearly as appealing to her as an uncertain chance with a man who might not even want her at this point. 

“Another huge decision to make?” Tikki asked.

“Seems so.”

Tikki flew up, hovering right at Marinette's eye level. "I'm sure you'll make the right decision, Marinette. Just think what will make you happier in the long run."

Marinette chuckled sadly. “So basically, the old cliché ‘Follow Your Heart, Marinette’?”

Tikki nodded. “Yes. Old, cliché, and very true. Look deep into your heart and listen to what it has to tell you. That’s the best thing you can do.”

And that was what Marinette did. She shut her phone off, signed out of her social media and email accounts, and took long walks at the local park, thinking, reflecting, and trying to see what it was she really wanted. It took her almost two days, but Sunday evening Marinette was confident she had found her answer. She turned her laptop back on, and replied to Sofia, agreeing to the interview. 

Then, she took a sheet of paper and wrote a letter to Adrien. She wasn’t sure she could face him right now, but she had to tell him what was in her heart. A letter it was.

Monday morning, Marinette came by Adrien’s office to drop off said letter only to be told that M Agreste wouldn’t be back there any time soon if at all. Luckily, on her way out she ran into his family lawyer who let it slip that he was to meet with Adrien in a few hours at an undisclosed location. Not seeing a better choice, Marinette gave the man her letter and asked if he could pass it to Adrien. Then, she arranged a week off for herself and returned to the apartment. 

With her heart and her future at stake, there was nothing she could handle doing for the next two days but packing her belongings and waiting for Adrien’s response to her letter. 

Next >

[agustdomain]

Ventana

Synopsis: Your favorite window seat and silence were unexpected allies in the love that grew between you and your neighbor. 

Word count: 6k (a baby considering my other works but I love it just the same)

Genre: neighbor!au, boynextdoor!au, fluff, nothing too grand but it is something light-hearted. 

Warnings: Some language. Teeth-rottening sweetness, really. 

Pairing: Jisung x Reader, ft. Chenle, Jaemin and Jeno!

Author’s Note: Hey friends! This is a short and sweet dessert to hold you over for the main course coming up! I missed my dreamies so I wanted to write something for them. But I can’t wait for your thoughts on my chris work coming up. I have lots planned for the summer so brace yourselves! ~Angelo

The sun was heartless on this beautiful summer day. The window you lounged beside had been your absolute favorite spot in said house since your family moved in when you were younger . Most summers growing up, it was hard for your sisters to convince you to move from that little window seat. The summers were solely yours- that was, until Jisung started staining them.

Looking back on it, all of your favorite memories of Jisung were bathed in summer glow.

Your first memory was when you were eight years old. Mid-June, perched on your window seat and reading through the Goosebumps books you owned one by one. Your mom had forced you and your sisters to go introduce yourselves to his family next door. You were brief with him, but he was super quiet and only stared at you wide-eyed and with nothing to say.

Back then he didn’t have glasses yet. He was a short, lanky boy with a bowl cut, peeking at you from his second story window almost every single day that summer. It made you smile behind the pages, the first time in a long time distracted from the words filling your mind. After the first time you noticed, however,  you ignored him for the rest of that summer. You didn’t even pay him mind when his curtains would obviously dance whenever he thought you were going to catch him watching you.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Your second memory was when you were twelve.

Your oldest sister Chaeryeong- 13 and a fire in her blood like mom-adamantly insisted that you and your younger sister join her for the school dance. If Chae was one thing, it was persuasive. You wouldn’t have gone, after all, if she wasn’t going to use her saved up allowance money to buy you a new DS game. 

Besides, you had been wanting to wear your new summer dress for a while now. And it wasn’t going to hurt to see your friends one last time before the school year ended. 

Yuna, the youngest and 11 at the time, complained the entire car ride there. Chae knew the exact words to shut her up, sharing a look with you from the passenger seat before dramatically drawing out, “I just remembered who’s going to be there!”

Yuna narrowed her eyes at the headrest before her, causing you to stifle a laugh.

“That’s right! Ryu told me that Chenle was coming tonight!”

Yuna glared at you as you tried and failed to stop smiling. “Shut up,” She crossed her arms defiantly, “I don’t care if he’s going.”

You all knew perfectly well that Yuna was sporting major heart eyes for the boy who had recently moved in down the street with his family. Even your mom was hiding behind her smile in the driver seat.

“Leave her alone,” She said, though her tone suggested her scolding wasn’t serious. Chae’s methods worked though, as Yuna was silent the rest of the ride there, fiddling with her dress and hair. 

Inside the small gymnasium, you quickly wondered if a DS game was worth the stifling and humid air. The lights were flashing green and blue, and the air still smelled like sneakers and basketballs. And sweat. 

“Chae!” Yuna whined as your eldest sister forgot all about you two at the sight of her best friends. “She drives me crazy!”

“Tell me about it,” You told her, your eyes scanning the dark room. You couldn’t spot any of your friends, but you didn’t really want to walk through your sweaty peers. “I’m starting to wonder if a DS game was worth this!”

Yuna looked over at you, face shocked. “You’re getting a game out of this?”

Eventually, you and your sister got comfortable on the bleachers, playing hand games to pass the time. Soon, you got bored and quiet as you observed your classmates around you. For some reason, the darkness and loud music gave them the excuse to act like they were adults. 

“Do you see Jeno over there? He’s dancing so close to Ryujin! I didn’t even think that was allowed,” Yuna whispered, face flushed from the heat of the room. How was a school dance a good idea in May?

“Look,” You pointed at the chaperone beelining toward them, “They’re about to get yelled at.” You both broke into fits of laughter as your school’s P.E. teacher wiggled his arms dramatically, Ryujin quickly scattering away as Jeno tried to talk down his coach.

“Chae would get in so much trouble with mom if she did that,” Yuna shivered at the thought.

“She’s smarter than Ryu, though.”

“Is she, though?”

“Fair point.”

Then, something strange happened. One moment, you two were gossiping more than you should have been, the next there were two boys in front of you. 

Zhong Chenle was awkward and his haircut was one he usually hid under a beanie. Tonight, it was slicked back with gel, a red bowtie bright somehow in the dark room. But not as bright as his smile. Beside him was the neighbor who always liked to quietly watch you from his bedroom window, Park Jisung. 

Jisung was always quiet, even in class. Never speaking up unless prompted to by Mr. Harris. Yet, he was still one of Mr. Harris’ favorites. He was about the same height as Chenle back then, his presence less vibrant. Yet, you still noticed him. 

“You’re Y/N,” Chenle pointed a finger at you, then trailed it over to your sister, “And Yuna, right?”

Yuna gawked up at him, utterly floored by the presence of her crush. Not to mention, the fact that he was talking to her. Elbowing her, you smiled.

“Yes, that’s us.”

“I’m Chenle,” He reached his hand out to shake yours, always keeping that bright smile. His hand lingered on your sister’s, and you were slightly worried she was going to pass out. “This here is Jisung. I’m sure you’ve met him before.”

You nodded slightly, feeling his eyes on you. “We’re neighbors. And in the same class.”

“We just noticed you were sitting all alone and realized that hey, we’re the life of the party, and if we bring the party to you,” Chenle tapped his chin before shouting, “You won’t feel so alone anymore!”

You blinked at him. “Uhhhh-” Your eyes trailed to Jisung behind him then, his mouth urgently mouthing something to you as he frantically and subtly pointed at something. You realized what he was mouthing at the same time Chenle stuttered while talking to Yuna. 

He likes her, he mouthed at you. 

Smiling mischievously, you stretched your arms out like a cat waking up from a nap, “Yeah, I’m feeling pretty tired actually.”

“Me too,” Jisung mocked your fake yawn, taking a seat beside you. 

With a smile you could barely hide, you said, “But Yuna loves to dance. I always catch her dancing to Jesse McCartney late at night when she thinks we’re all asleep.”

“Y/N! Why would you-” Yuna, who looked mortified, quickly grew quiet when Chenle’s face brightened.

“I love Jesse McCartney,” Chenle’s smile was kind, sweet. As he and Yuna shared a moment, you realized that your sister’s dream was unravelling before you. All she needed was a chance. 

Soon, it was just you and Jisung. The silence was awkward, but you didn’t mind as you daydreamed about the new game you were going to get. Should you get Nintendogs? Everyone talks about it these days.

“He hasn’t stopped talking about her since the day I met him,” Jisung talked so quietly, you almost missed it. But something about his voice, as quiet as it was, you would still hear even if you were miles apart. Okay, that was dramatic but it was crazy you heard him in the first place.

“Same goes for Yuna. She wouldn’t move from the porch since the day he moved in.”

Jisung cracked a smile. “I always wondered why she would be out there all day.”

You played with the hem of your dress, side-eyeing the boy beside him. For the first time, you realized just how cute his face was. Shaking the thought away, you rose to your feet and hopped down each bleacher before reaching the bottom. Looking up at Jisung, you missed how he never stopped looking at you. “I heard there’s some leftover cookies. We gotta find them. You in?”

“As long as they’re not raisin or oatmeal.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Your third memory? You were fifteen and going through a romantic and contemporary book phase. Why was that special? Well, it meant that window seats weren’t romantic enough anymore and you needed the outdoors to immerse you in the experiences of Jane Austen. 

Chae had a secret boyfriend now- not so secret since your mom knew just about everything courtesy of Yuna’s big mouth, but Chae thought she was being sly. Now that she had a part-time job, her bribery with you was bigger and better, and free money had always been your biggest weakness. 

Which is why you were always stuck third-wheeling when you went to the park. Chae ignored your huffs and puffs as she cooed and kissed her boyfriend Renjun. Beneath the trees, as Darcy drew you in and the sounds of swings creaking became your background music, you could forget about the gross PDA your sister never spared you from. 

That was, until one day Chae got smacked in the face with a basketball. 

“What the f-” Renjun jumped to his feet as Chae held her nose, blood pouring from behind her hand. 

Your eyes were wide, book forgotten as you crouched near her. As you rummaged through your bag, then hers, a shaky voice gathered your attention.

“I-I’m so sorry. It banked off the headboard and went flying!” Eyes trailing up the Nike shoes, the red basketball shorts, the shirt too big for the boy before you, Jisung held his hands up in surrender as his face drowned in sweat and worry. 

“You think that makes it okay?” Renjun snapped, picking up the basketball then chucking it at Jisung. Jisung, unprepared, coughed at the impact with his chest. 

“Hey!” another boy, one you think was named Jaemin, appeared behind Jisung. Narrowing his eyes he said, “Watch it, Ren. It was just an accident.”

“He made my girlfriend bleed. You think I give a shit?”

“Oh, take a chill pill,” Your words came out cruel, but frankly Renjun was being more dramatic than Chae at this point. Renjun regarded you with disbelief, then barely concealed disgust before he noticed Jisung jogging away from them. “Hey! Hey where do you think you’re-”

Jaemin stepped in front of Renjun, his face stern. “I’m not going to tell you again to calm down.” As they began to argue, you pulled Chae’s hair from her face. “You okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine. It just won’t stop bleeding.”

White flashed beside your face, and the both of you looked up. Trailing up the thin arm, your eyes found a bent over Jisung  holding a tissue out for her to take. His face, beyond embarrassed. Yet, he still bravely ignored the fuming boyfriend who was in the middle of being scolded. 

“I really am sorry.”

“I know, Jisung. I am too. For, you know,” Chae laughed, taking the tissue and standing up, shaking her head at Renjun before walking away to take care of herself. Jisung lingered, long after Renjun cursed at him and stormed after her, even after Jaemin retrieved the basketball and told him the others were waiting. 

Gathering you and Chae’s belongings, you practically bumped into him as you rose to your feet. “Oh, you’re still here,” his face falling made you backtrack quickly, “What I meant was, are you okay?”

A laugh broke from him, startling you. You had never heard him laugh. “I just hurt your sister and you’re asking if I’m okay?”

You shrugged one shoulder. “Well, I know how it feels to be singled out. Renjun had no right to treat you that way. Just between us, Chae should’ve dumped him a long time ago.” You started to walk away. Just as you took a few steps, you looked back at Jisung. 

Sweat lining his hair, face flushed from shame or from basketball you didn’t know. For the first time, you found yourself really looking at him. Seeing not just a neighbor you hardly know, but a boy whose laugh you wouldn’t mind hearing again. 

“Thanks again… Jisung.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Your fourth memory was when you were seventeen and Yuna fulfilled the prophecy of her and Chenle’s fated love. 

With their love came a bond of association with none other than Jisung. 

From one day to the next, Jisung became the young boy you caught glimpses of from your favorite window seat to sitting straight-backed on the sofa in your living room, just as silent as always.

Jisung didn’t suit your old-styled living room. He was bigger than this library haven. He was an entire book series, the longer you looked at him. A complete mystery except to those who opened him up.

When Yuna, Chenle, and Jisung casually chattered throughout the movie playing on the television, you found yourself re-reading the same paragraph of your current read over and over. 

Giving up in frustration, you peeked out from the top of the book just as Jisung quietly laughed at the comedy playing in the background. He had a nice laugh, one that softened his features. Now, he wore these round glasses that made him look super cute. 

Something funny happened in the movie again because Jisung smiled. You liked how he looked, like life was easy. He must’ve sensed your creepy staring because he looked over at you. Quickly,  you retreated back behind your book- but not before shooting him what you hoped was a charming smile. You think it was, because he shifted in his seat and quickly looked away.

As you flipped through your book, you wondered if this was the first time someone made you feel like your favorite fictional characters did. Maybe you understood how a real-life Augustus Waters would be.

When you were eighteen, you and Jisung had become good friends, so much that you forgot about all those hidden moments. Looking back on it, you couldn’t figure out who was responsible for one of the greatest people to fall into your life. Was it Chenle, for being best friends with Jisung all these years? Was it Yuna for finally working up the courage to confess her love to Chenle? Or was it you, for not being afraid to get to know him?

Every morning your senior year, Chenle honked his obnoxious car horn and waited for you and Yuna to come out. Jisung was waiting outside the car, always holding open the backdoor for you like he was your driver or something. 

Routinely, the two of you laughed over internet memes or showed each other a priceless YouTube video you watched the night before. When the two of you were too excited to wait, random midnight texts would spam each other’s phones, making the other smile too widely for a simple friendship.

He was a lot more eccentric than you thought he would be, and you loved that about him. Rambling about the anime he was watching, the latest song he learned how to play on his guitar made you smile whenever he spoke, or the endless thoughts in his mind that make him want to bust out his sketchbook and express “the wild concoctions of his mind”- his words, not yours. Anything he said, really, was like hearing your favorite song. 

You remembered telling him an embarrassing secret, that you always wanted to re-enact the scene from You Belong With Me since you two were neighbors. In the moment he hadn’t said anything, but that night, he had texted you to go to your favorite window seat, and when you did he was holding up a paper to his window. In big block leaders, he had written HI Y/N. I MISS YOU. Next to it, was a pretty good drawing of a cartoon version of himself waving at you. 

You didn’t know he could draw well.

It wasn’t long before you realized he wasn’t just a neighbor, or a friend. He wasn’t the love interest that you rolled your eyes at in your romance novels, or even Augustus Waters. He was the boy who was unafraid to be himself with you, and it made you feel like you could take on the world.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Here you were now, looking back on all those fond memories of him and smiling to yourself. The two of you had come a long way, and it never occurred to you that Jisung would become a significant part of your life. One you never want to depart from.

It was a couple of weeks before graduation. After many hours of working up the courage, you found yourself quietly knocking on Jisung’s front door. His mom answered, never failing at shooting you knowing looks and sneaky smiles. 

Once Jisung appeared, he sat with you on his front porch. He never lost that quietness about him all these years, but what you gained is an attachment to it. You found yourself edging closer, constantly aching to be near. Your eyes trailed to your window, the one that lent your your first ever glimpses at the boy beside you. Oh, how far you’d come. 

His face was more mature and slimmer now, hair shorter and styled more. His clothes were more intentional, preppy one day and street the next. That was the great thing about him- he wasn’t someone you could pinpoint. Maybe that’s why with one flicker of a gaze, he could knock the breath from your lungs. 

You had come over to tell him how you feel. 

Why were you choking instead?

He was fiddling with the bracelet Chenle had bought him for one of his childhood birthdays. Bright colors, worn around the edges. You’d never seen him without it, now that you look back on it. You focused on that as you tried to calm your nerves. Think of something, anything. Maybe how the bracelet is quite similar to its owner. Jisung, a mix of all these colors that somehow become beautiful together. 

“Everything okay?” He asked casually, eyes trained ahead. 

“Yup.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Because you usually don’t do this. The last time you came to my house, you were just dropping off the textbook I left over at yours. You never come to visit.” Ouch. You hadn’t realized. You were too worried about looking like a stalker. When had you become the one peeping from the window instead of him?

“I just, uh, I missed you.” You wanted to cringe, not missing the shock that ran through Jisung’s face. He coughed audibly before adjusting in his seat, using a random stick to pick the rocks out of the bottom of his shoes and tossing them one by one.

“That’s cool,” He said, and now he was hiding his face. Great. In that next moment, he turned your world onto its side. “I heard Jaemin asked you out today.”

Like a video buffering, every prepared sentence you had went out the window. Blinking, you shook your head before stuttering, “Uh, yeah. Yeah, he did.” Tell him you’re not interested in Jaemin. Tell him.

“You two make a lovely couple.” Was that bitterness? Sarcasm? Was that… sincere? What was that supposed to mean?

“I think you’re misunderstanding,” You laughed forcibly, and you realized quickly it was a mistake as he regarded you with zero amusement. 

“He’s been wanting to date you since that day I made Chaeryeong’s nose bleed.”

Your face scrunched up, scoffing as you said, “I don’t even remember him being there.”

“That’s new. Most people don’t forget Jaemin’s presence.”

A moment, one breath of nerves, before you jumped. “I remember you that day.”

As you bravely looked him in the eye, you saw it in his face. You saw the understanding dawn on him, like a fishing line tugging. Jisung was never one for words. You read the message clear on his face, felt him comfortably relax as his body edged closer to you. 

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

On your eighteenth birthday, right in the middle of summer, Yuna was whispering your name in the darkness of your bedroom. 

“Y/N! Wake up!”

“I wasn’t sleeping.”

“Then why did you ignore me?”

“You tell me.” You complained when she smacked your leg before silently following her out into the dark hallway. “What’s up?”

“I know we already sang you happy birthday an hour ago, but there’s one last surprise I forgot to tell you about.”

“You’re lucky I was awake.”

She led you into the living room, where the moon offered seldom light from the windows facing Jisung’s house. Except, your eyes found a piece of paper resting on the window seat. 

Looking at your sister, you quietly walked over to the seat and picked it up. Flipping it over, your heart fooled you into thinking it was the middle of the day, the sun kissing your skin and your favorite book in your lap. It was a feeling of complete and utter bliss. 

It was a sketch drawing split into four pictures. The first picture is of a younger you, face focused and legs crossed, sun bathing you in light. Your hair was messy, your face amused, and you were sporting your favorite orange spaghetti strap you used to wear way too much when you were little. 

The second picture is you a little older now, face frustrated and fingers gripping your DS tightly. You didn’t remember ever playing the DS on the window seat. 

The third photo was one that looked most like you, curled up uncomfortably in the window seat as you took a nap. The last time you did that was at the beginning of high school, and you vowed to never do it again after waking with your entire body stiff. You still wore that same green hoodie.

The last photo is of you sitting on the middle school bleachers, that very summer dress you loved for years drawn perfectly. There are other people, a crowd that’s parted with you in the center of the drawing. Everyone else is drawn as shaded shadows, a glow and beauty to you that you never even noticed. You were smiling directly ahead, and you wonder if he pictured himself as the object of your affections. 

With a big smile, you perched yourself on the window seat, your hand spread on the window as you looked toward his bedroom window. You knew before you even saw him that Jisung would be waiting. His head in his hand, eyes hooded and drowsy. They widened as he spotted you.

Holding the gift to your heart, you blew him a kiss and hoped your expression conveyed how much you loved this present. His small smile was one of understanding. 

His silence always told you everything you needed to know.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

About a month later, it was the night before Jisung’s flight- the night before he moved and left for university. You were in bed, long after saying your goodbyes and wallowing in sadness. Heart heavy, you couldn’t sleep, not now, not when Jisung was so close yet so far. You weren’t going to cry, not because you didn’t want to but because it was ridiculous to act like he was gone already. 

All this time and you never told him how you felt. 

Shutting your thoughts off, you threw your blanket aside and left your room, pulling on your shoes and quietly leaving out the front door, heading toward the outside of your favorite side of the house. Surprisingly, his window was completely open, so you tried to whisper-shout his name to get his attention. Nothing happened. 

You huffed, looking around before spotting an old bouncy ball you and your sisters used to throw at each other when you were young. Taking a moment, you aimed the ball before chucking it at the window. It missed, bouncing off the windowsill and miraculously down on your side of the fence between your houses. Picking it up again, you aimed once more before chucking it as hard as you could. 

At that same moment, Jisung popped out from his window with a confused look. You covered your mouth and cursed loudly as the ball smacked him right in the face, his glasses flying off as his body fell back out of view.

“Jisung! Oh my gosh, Jisung!” You hissed, worried out of your mind. After a few beats, a highly unamused Jisung peeked out of the window. “I’m so sorry!”

Jisung rubbed at his face before pushing his glasses up his nose and nodding. “I guess I deserved that. ‘Sall good. What’s up?”

“I want to talk to you!”

“I’m kinda panicking right now. Not even close to finished packing and my flight is in a couple hours.”

“I can help!” You called, looking around before saying, “Please! Before I get caught out here!”

He stared at you for a moment, face too serious for your taste, before he nodded and called quietly, “Back door.”

It was weird, sneaking through Jisung’s dark house. Even weirder, how aggressive your heart was beating in your chest as he clasped your hand tightly to lead you up the stairs. In the safety of his room, you felt vulnerable. 

You had never been on the other side at night. This was the other perspective, the room he used to peek at you from, the one that housed the boy whose silence you’d grown to love. It was invasive. 

“Yeah, uh, it’s a mess right now.” You turned to him quietly, sweat building at your lower back. All you could was nod as you tried to find the courage. 

This boy had been this close to you since you were eight years old. Feet away. Even though you knew his silence, you were still trying to figure out how to break it. You got too comfortable and too attached to it. Too attached to him. 

Seeing how bare his room looked filled you with an unbearable sadness. What was life going to be like without him living next door? Not to mention hundreds of miles were going to be between you. Luck was on your side that he was going to a university only three hours away. Three hours too many, it seemed, since Jisung was struggling to meet your eyes. 

“Your room’s great.”

“Thanks.”

You sat in his desk chair as his bluetooth speaker played some band called MAD. Back when you had some classes together, he liked to make you laugh from across the room as he used to pretend to be the drummer of the band. You watched him as he quietly packed the large suitcase on the floor. His T-shirt sleeves were rolled up around his biceps, sporting his favorite sweats.

This was the Jisung she always knew and yet he wasn’t. 

He had somehow taken up all the space in her heart. 

The only time she had the heart to confess was the night before he moved away. 

A moment. Feeling nauseated, you braced yourself with a deep breath and opened your mouth to speak. Just as the words flew from your lips like skydivers racing to the ground, Jisung spoke as well. 

“I think I’m in love with you.”

“I can get you a drink if you’re thirsty.”

You both froze, his body twisting to look at you as you took up extra curiosity in the pencil box on his desk. 

“You what?” He gasped.

“I’m good. I drank some water before bed.” Did you just answer him? Squinting at the pencil box, you pushed it back and forth across the wood.

“Y/N.” You couldn’t look at him, eyes swimming suddenly in a wave of emotions. You heard his feet approach you before he was crouching down and slowly spinning the chair to face him. Like a child, you squeezed your eyes shut. 

Did he really ask you if you wanted something to drink? Just as you confessed your love for him?

“Y/N?” Your eyes were open but you couldn’t look at him. His head mimicked yours, tricking you into looking at him. You still couldn’t look him in the eye, opting for his chin. “Will you please look at me?”

Meeting his gaze, silence fell over you. One that you knew very well. The same silence that you originally thought separated you, but had brought you together over time. The silence he met you with when he first moved in, the silence behind two windows. It was in the silence that you realized just how important he was to you. 

With the easiest smile that Jisung solely owned, he told you how he felt.

“I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you. Even before the times I watched you from the window like a creep. The day we moved in and your mom, your sisters and you came to welcome us, actually, was probably love. Even though I was eight, it was love for what I knew it to be. Yuna was little, she was shy and hiding behind your mom. Chaeryeong was giving me a no-nonsense look, as if she thought I was going to be trouble. But you…”

He swallowed, suddenly nervous. Your hand moved of its own accord, shyly resting on his shoulder. Taking a breath of bravery, he continued.

“You were my fairy,” He laughed to himself, “Back then, my mom used to read me a lot of fantasy books. All of my favorites had to do with fairies. Because they were both magical and beautiful, and that’s what I thought fantasy should be. And when I saw you? I thought fairies actually existed at that moment.”

“I would say you’re my Peter Pan, but him and Tinkerbell don’t end up together.”

He smiled, his hands taking yours in his own before he looked up into your eyes once more. “You’re better than Tinkerbell. Even better than Fawn.”

“You know the other fairy names?”

“What can I say? I loved Pixie Hollow.”

“I was more of a Club Penguin girl.”

“Who wasn’t?” 

And because you couldn’t wait any longer, you pushed back the seat and crouched down in front of him as well, just so you were nearly eye level. He was quiet, his silence showing his understanding of what this all meant. 

“Jisung?” You whispered, arms sliding around his neck. 

“Mhm?”

“Is it alright if I kiss you?”

“You’re more than welcome.”

This time, when the silence fell around them, it was to declare your love. His lips were cold, soft, but shy. You took the lead and he followed, his hands unsure but gaining confidence as he hugged you to him. 

When you pulled away, every single book you loved was reflected in his gaze. 

That was the thing about guys like Jisung. They reminded you of the worlds you visited but wiped the slate clean at the same time, proving you had your own story to tell. 

Was there ever going to be another novel that would make you feel like you did in this moment?

“I think I’ll have something to drink now.”

He stood, a smile pulling at his lips. As he approached the door, he looked back at you and mirrored you from moments before. “I’m in love with you too.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Jisung was fifteen when he realized how the circle of people you trust has to be few and far between. What was sad was he realized this because of his good friends. 

“That wasn’t a foul, asshole, that was a clean steal,” Jeno stood with the basketball tucked under one arm, the other pointing accusingly as Chenle argued with him. Chenle, who was irritable from the sun and from relationship problems with Yuna, wasn’t backing down. 

“It was dirty and you know it,” Jeno barked.

Jaemin clapped once and held out his hands to Jeno, exclaiming, “Okay guys, that’s enough. This is fun, remember? Shouldn’t be whining and complaining about one shot. He gets the point, Jeno, cool?”

Jeno rolled his eyes before checking the ball to Chenle, grumbling, “Whatever.”

As Jaemin went on defense for Jisung, he surprised everyone by his random questions to lighten the mood. Soon, they were back to joking and messing around with one another. Jeno even gave props for Chenle at one point when he stole the ball. 

“Did you hear Jeno and Ryujin broke up? Again?” Jaemin snickered, watching Jisung closely as he waited for a chance to juke him. Bouncing the ball behind his back, then between his legs, Jisung watched him having played him plenty of times before. If anyone knew his tricks, it was Jisung. 

“Sorry to hear that, man,” Chenle said.

Jeno waved his hand. “It’s whatever. Not surprised she’s done with my ass. I forgot it was her birthday. Again.”

Jisung shook his head, and Chenle said, “Dang, then it really is your fault.”

“Never said it wasn’t,” Jeno snapped, breaking out of Chenle’s defense and finding an opening for the pass. Jeno proceeded to pull off an effortless hook shot. 

“Besides, he has his eyes set on someone new already,” Jaemin teased, always something dark hidden in the brightness of his irises.

Jeno glared at him. “Oh yeah? And you’re so innocent right? Why are you putting me on blast?”

“I know I’m not an angel. You just pretend you are and I think it’s hilarious” Jaemin grinned proudly, checking the ball with Jisung before quickly taking a three point shot, sinking it perfectly. “What about you, Jisung? Any apple of your eye?”

“Oh, he’s more sprung than I am with Yuna,” Chenle cackled, silenced by themurderous look from Jisung. Jisung was never one to be vocal about his personal feelings.

Why? Because he hated that look of curiosity forming on Jaemin’s face. 

“Oh? And who has my little friend’s heart?”

“None of your business,” Jisung grumbled, causing Jaemin’s head to fall back as he laughed. Jisung took the opportunity to steal the ball, sprinting for his side of the court. Jeno was too fast, quick on defense. 

“Come on, Ji. I promise I won’t judge,” Jaemin poked. He knew Jaemin all too well, his friend being well known for stealing his friends’ girls from right under their noses. It was all a game to him. 

He refused to give in. 

After five minutes of being murdered on the court, Jisung was hot and seething. His head wasn’t on straight, his thoughts unclear. It didn’t help that you were in clear view from this position, lounging beneath a tree and reading to your heart’s desire.

It was fate that the girl of his dreams was here the day he was pestered to let his friends know of your existence. 

As he prepared for the three pointer, getting a look at Jaemin’s stupid smug face, he was struck with a moment of peace. Because if he didn't have a chance with you, Jaemin sure didn’t. And that right there filled him with a joy he couldn’t understand.

“You see Y/N over there?” He motioned with his head, all the boys glancing at you before finding him again. Jaemin narrowed his eyes at the boy. 

Jisung dribbled the ball, his heart swelling with pride as he confessed, “That’s the girl I’m going to marry someday.” As he watched the ball soar, he realized that was the first time he had ever expressed just how deep his love for you goes. Maybe you didn’t see him, maybe you never would, but for him you were all that he needed. 

His moment of sentiment ended as the ball smashed into the headboard, flying in the direction of the topic of conversation, his heart plummeting in fear. 

His thoughts of marriage, of you, of his fears, they all faded as he ran toward you. Seeing the blood on your sister’s face, he realized you may never fall for him the way he had for you.

“What the f-”

“I-I’m so sorry. It banked off the headboard and went flying!”

[alias-b]

sins of my youth. 020

Billy Hargrove x OC! Evie Fenny~ Also posted to my AO3

Summary: It was common knowledge that Billy Hargrove hated Hawkins. Hated Cherry Lane. Even loathed the strange girl next door. Evie Fenny wasn’t too fond of the chaotic Cali transfer either. An awful high school tradition sparks a chain of events that changes everything, ultimately bringing two frayed souls together.

A/N: Hello everyone. Thanks for clicking in to read. Billy and Evie continue to explore their new relationship together. Max's fourteenth birthday party marks a change for the teens, reminding them that danger isn't too far off. TW: Neil being Neil. Mentions of abuse. Something close to an almost assault/abduction off screen near the end. Light mentions of Pica & fatphobia. Sexual themes

***My tag list is wide open, just shoot me a msg to join it! Chat with me about the chapter if you have the time! Enjoy! xoxo 

Chapter 20: Rose Tint My World

  “Hold still, I’ll poke your eye again.”

   “I can’t breathe, you’re killing me.” Came a sniffled whine.

   “Such a baby. You asked.”

   “I said I was curious after you put the gunk on my nails!”

   “That gunk was a great color on you. You whine just like your big brother.” Carol had Max’s face clamped in her grip as she applied mascara. “Don’t blink, you'll smear it.”

   “Evie, she’s killing me,” Max lamented aloud. “This is not worth it.” Evie just laughed, setting a bowl of pretzels aside. Carol flicked a mirror up to let Max see her handiwork. “Whoa...It’s not terrible.” She gruffed in a mumble, tilting her head to see each angle. "Kinda like Madonna."

   “I’ll take it.” Carol stole some M&Ms from another dish as they shared a spot on Heather’s fuzzy carpet. A movie rolled on in the corner TV.

   Max about howled when Heather came in from the bathroom, face covered in green.

   “Monster!”

   “It’s a face-mask!” Heather planted her hands on her hips, prompting more laughter. “You’ll be more into them once your body really changes.”

   “Girls are way scarier than boys.” Max poked at her blushed cheek which had Carol smacking her hand away. Evie was draped across the bottom of the bed in her robe and nightie, half-watching the TV. “Can you do a zombie make-up?”

   Carol gave a snort.

   “I can do anything. kid.”

   “Eves, you want another piece of pizza?” Heather crossed with the box.

   “I’m so full.” Evie shook her head.

   “You had like one piece.”

   “I ate a big lunch. And lots of pretzels.” Evie snatched the pretzel bowl again for good measure. Truthfully, her appetite had been up and down lately. Mostly down. What with the pangs in her stomach that always passed and… “You sound like my mother.”

   “She was...extra peppy at the salon today. My mom and I got our monthly trim.”

   “Probably some guy she’s seeing, it’ll pass and another will come. Men are like Kleenex to her. Soft, strong, and disposable.” Evie shrugged to pluck up a magazine.

   “Hey,” Max began as Carol fussed over her, “so I didn’t want to make a thing of it, but my mom keeps insisting. My birthday party is coming. She and Neil saved so I could have it just at the roller rink and...they said I could invite whoever I wanted. But, I can’t ask the guys to come. So I figured I’d ask El. She’s really cool. But, maybe if you guys wanted to come? You can bring boys and pretend you’re not even at my party if it’s not your thing. I just-”

   “Max, we’d love to come.” Heather piped up first. “Evie and I rule the rink too.”

   “I look very cute in skates,” Carol agreed with a twitching smirk. “I'm in. I’ll bring Tommy, he sucks and he’ll fall down a bunch. We'll pretend we ran into each other so your stepdad can get the stick out of his ass.”

   “Billy has to go too cause Neil says it’s a family event.” Max turned to Evie. “I think he’d be happier with you there.”

   “I think Billy and I both are fine being there for you. I had my fourteenth at the rink too. It’ll be fun.” Evie beamed, legs up to sway idly. “Plus we haven’t met the Chief’s kid. She’s home-schooled, right?”

   “Yeah, she might be joining us in school next year.” Max stayed still for Carol’s brush. “Depends. She was uh...adopted under weird circumstances. You’ll like her. I taught her how to do that felting thing because of you and she made this funny one of her dad.”

   “I’ll bet Hopper loved that.” Evie winked. 

   “He’s kind of a babe in like a scruffy, rugged way,” Carol remarked. "Strong mountain man type."

   “Ew. He’s so old.” Max reeled back to laugh.

   “I’m just saying! I like a man in uniform. He rocks the khaki.” 

   “The moms in town do eat him up.” Heather shrugged, joining Evie on the bed with a handful of candy. “We all have our strange crushes. I like high cheek-bones. Guys with a little Bowie. Evie? You got one?”

   “Gia Carangi even if she isn’t modeling any more, I love her face.” Evie was flicking pages without looking. Howls from the TV went ignored through the chatter.

   “I called that. Fenny being into ladies. Try Iman.” Carol winked which earned her a look as if she hadn’t planted a kiss on Evie in a fit of rage.

   “People say Billy’s pretty like a girl.” Max had added which got the other girls giggling. 

   “I like this one, we’re so keeping her.” Carol got up to root for a bag of chips, popping them open. “Like the zombie face better?”

   “I still look too pretty.” Max appeared more goth than zombie.

   “You are pretty. Deal with it. We redheads stick together.” Carol stole Evie’s magazine. “Let us know when the party is, we’ll be there.”

   Max looked at the three older girls squished together on Heather’s bed. Chattering and supporting. Happy to have her around.

   A bright smile touched her face for the first time since Neil Hargrove walked into her home. 

** ** ** 

   Most days, all it felt like was floating. Floating through her house. Through Hawkins. Up and down streets. Through school. A stunning illusion she pulled like wool over her dark eyes.

   A woman in rippling silks walking endless halls toward a great, cherry red door at the end, but the door gets farther away and she's thrilled to continue on even still. Feather wings glittering to unfold from her back because heaven's light is beyond the door. Crystalline eyes with their hold. Waiting for her. The sky awaits her with caressing clouds. Opulent gold sun rays and twinkling stars when the world lies down.

   Evie knew she was too big for her wings most days. Too heavy to leave the Earth.

   Knew in her beating heart of hearts that was the first thing people think when they see her. This magnificent soul with drive and neon and talent reduced to a single shrewd glance. And they don't think twice until she's something vaguely sexual. Something marketable you can package and process and sell to the last drop.

   Easier to stomach something uncomely if you can slide into it ruthlessly to rut. They always come like animals, wailing as a banshee would to get off better than they ever will in their small lives. They eat it up. Cover it in sweat and regret and blame.

   These things that hang as little weights on her heartstrings swinging back and forth. They make her not want to attempt extending those wings to fly. Fear of heads shaking in judgement. Fear of looking uglier. More foolish for even trying. Poor thing.

   All because of one glance that couldn't be bothered to see worth in another human life. Sometimes Evie wanted to be skinny not because of beauty, but because she'd get a privilege pass to exist in this world.

   They think she shouldn't dress the way she does. She's probably lazy and self loathing because of added pounds. She has no real aspirations or means to achieve them. Those eyes that watch her eat. That shift away before they decide on another seat because the one open next to her just isn't right. They glare because of the extra room she might take up. Even sharing a few cordial words with fat girls seemed to be a task.

   Evie always notices and does the polite thing pretending she doesn't. She knows what her body looks like, no need to point out the obvious.

   Strange, how these snap judgements, these eyes that don't look twice; can villainize a body utterly. A body. Flesh, bone, and muscle. We're all made in heaven's image. All destined for paths we seek to control. Superiority should have been an illusion. But no, too much or too little, your worth dips low. Fetishes and internalized hatred for things that were shaped and colored differently. Blame.

   But, some days, when the wind soars just right...just strong enough...Evie can spread and illuminate. See the births and deaths of a million stars. Drop the little weights to feel the winds between her fingers. In her curls. In her wings. Feel her feet leave the floor for just a few fleeting seconds.

   The fleeting seconds of soaring always seem so worth it against a world of unsightly aches. Against snap judgements she can toss back to live in a flower petal haze.

   Evie tried hard to live in those moments when they flashed into her. Spotlights. Butterflies delicately landing on her flesh to open and close their stained glass wings for kisses. Evie felt crushed utterly in the most decadent way.

   Billy's soft lips on her neck to get lost in the pulse. Deft fingers that would push up her clothing as he moved in her. Eyes that wanted to see her. All of her. The prayers he could whisper against heating skin.

   A lot could be said about him. But, Billy was always happy to see her and that alone was air spinning into gold. His eyes would light up. Lips twitching. She could hear the single beat that his heart skipped. Even if they didn't speak, they felt this awareness for each other in the vicinity. Truly magic.

   Those eyes. That love of a face. Always staring pointedly to read her up and down. Always plucking the weights from her heart by listening. Always unafraid to touch her. Evie hoped she returned that. She really did.

   Fleeting seconds began to linger between them. Seeping slow and saccharine as fresh pouring honey.

   Sneaking away on walks while he let her hold his hand. Flirtation against school lockers that ended in several 'just one more' kisses. Double dates to the movies with Tommy and Carol. Sitting separately to make out.

   Driving up near Lover’s Lake to kiss in a parked Camaro while the sun laid itself down to sleep. Fumbling playfully to undress and explore. Watching the construction of a coming mall with Slurpees from the gas station. Tongues and lips colored all artificial cherry and strawberry.

   Evie would stretch her wings completely. Let Billy admire them until the world was all satin rose-tinted. She could forget her urges and worries and insecurities. All together. This was fine.

   She was fine. More then fine.

   He so liked to admire her wings. Pleasure crushed in as she moaned. Let his fingers explore contours and notches untouched before. Billy would take those prayers on his lips and drape them over her body. Spell them between fleshy thighs. Pulling more fleeting seconds for himself too.

   They could roll around under sheets and not worry about anything else. Have conversations that always felt silly and wonderful and weighted because they both mattered to someone so ardently. That alone was an ocean both could sink into.

   Something beautiful to behold. The real vision behind the great red door. Your soul mattering.

   Evie was in a bubble with Billy Hargrove. A stupid, dopey look on her face when Mona settled dinner down one evening. Steam rising from a huge pot.

   “Going out later?” Evie began to create sound or she'd be lost. "You colored your hair brown again."

   “Needed another change. Ah, I'm going out just with Karen and Claudia. Dessert and wine night. I asked Susan but that poor thing keeps standing me up. Did you finish Max’s gift for her party?” Mona scooped up huge portions in a bowl that Evie would only be prodding at.

   “Yeah, it’s set. Turned out perfect. She’s not much for jewelry but I think a personalized tie dye shirt will be fun. Might look cool while skateboarding. I also have that goody bag of sweets for her to fill up on we made.” Evie reminded herself to pick up her spoon. Took a few bites.

   “You’re not scarfing it down like usual, you love my crawfish soup.”

   “It’s delicious, I just had a big lunch.” A lie. Evie pressed herself to eat quicker, tearing a piece of fresh bread to chew. Thing was, she wanted to eat. She wanted to eat so badly despite the sickness welling inside her. The heavy ache made it a task. Mona eyed her daughter there. “My stomach's in knots a lot, just school stuff.” 

   “Well, you are a senior.” Mona pushed her own soup around. “I haven’t been around as much as I’d like to be. Just the salon and I met-”

   “I get it.” Evie’s lips spread in a flash, not wanting her mother to finish that sentence. “I’m with friends a lot and I keep busy with my music and the cat. I even wrote a new song.”

   “That’s two this week, you. Strumming along blissfully.” Mona gushed. “Whatever has you all creative and dewy, chase it.” Silverware clicked around and Evie stared at her dish. A broader smile crossed.

   "I will."

   “What’s it called?”

   “Ocean Eyes.” 

   Evie could be pretty transparent in the early stages of a relationship.

   These short weeks in with Billy. Lyrics flooded free. Sometimes he liked to watch her write and strum when they hung out. Trips to the lounge where she worked other nights got him a full show, but not of her original stuff. Songs marched forth.

   “Ocean Eyes.”

   “Cupid and Psyche.”

   “Honey Stardust.”

   “Neon-Tinted Hearts.”

   Rock. Pop. Lush and obscene with her glowing heartstrings. She wrote them for Fredrick too when they got together.

   “Doll Joints.”

   “Lollipop Lolita.”

   “Prince Charming.”

   After dinner, Evie stole a notebook filled with her every sinful lyrical confession of her time with Fredrick Bowers. Burnt it in an empty pot out back until Billy wandered out the back steps of his place. Asking her if she was trying to set the neighborhood on fire.

   “How can I help?” He’d snarked while the sky went all pretty peach fuzz. Evie just laughed and never explained what she’d burnt or why it felt this cathartic to watch the smoke rise toward a falling sun. She figured maybe this was the day she'd stop eating foreign and sharp objects. She could do it. She was happier. Lighter. It had to stop.

   It had to. She couldn't think about this haze shattering, it hurt too deep.

   Billy used the flame to light his cigarette comically and kissed her before inhaling the smoke. 

   “Can we take a drive? Or walk if you’re low on gas?”

   “Let’s walk, I got some cash doing my odd jobs for the damn neighbors, but I need it to last a bit longer with Max’s birthday. Got her this new board she was too chickenshit to beg our parents for.”

   “Aren’t you a darling big brother?” Evie crossed her arms to follow him when the flame dwindled low. They went around the house to the front, started down the street. “Iris has some hours for me that next Saturday night.”

   “You going to tell your mom about the secret job thing?” Billy inhaled and let smoke billow up into the afternoon light. They walked along Cherry Lane. Not touching. Counting steps while their shadows cast and the streetlights came up. A brisk night loomed, spring begging to creep through the month of March. 

   “I figured I could this summer. Around graduation. Just say I got something bigger since I’m eighteen and Iris can get me steadier hours. Gigs day or night. Maybe I’ll get to host a couple more drag shows. I miss those damn girls, the funniest performers know. I'll just let my mom down easy about the receptionist thing, hopefully she’s fine with it. Make it sound like I took initiative cause I'm a big girl.” 

   “And your grand singer plans?” He liked to ask about her and hang upon the syllables.

   “Still up in the air. I’m taking the year off to work and write. Try for a talent agent or manager. I can record maybe...try to get airtime. There’s this contest thing, they do it every year and the winners always do well. But, I’m honestly too afraid to ask my mom about it just yet. I’m saving though here and there.” Evie beamed. “You? Summer and on.”

   She was clearly asking if he was sticking around for summer. 

   “Odd lawn, house, and car jobs are getting me by. This whole street is a mess and the moms in town like to watch me work."

   "Yikes." 

   "It means better pay and tips. I’m taking Heather up on her lifeguard offer this summer. I'll save up, Dad's already going to be asking for rent when I graduate."

   "Shit."

   "Yeah. Don’t wanna bank on that mall they’re opening with all the other little shits trying to get jobs first.” Billy leaned back to let the cooler air kiss his face, sighing before he tossed his smoke out. 

   Evie came to the end of the street near the forest, swayed around a streetlamp like she was in an old Hollywood flick. Dreaming long and endless. Sometimes she worried so often that she wasn't living. Just dreaming it all away. Maybe a center line was possible.

   Maybe she'd be able to soar over it all.

   Billy waited for her to swing back around it before he pressed into her for a slow, lingering kiss. Even better, maybe they both were sharing a dream. Making it of something stronger.

   “So, how am I doing?” He joked lighter. Evie gripped the lamp to stay level, head tilting. “Two weeks in, almost three. This whole situation.”

   “Situation.” Evie mused, slyly hiding half her face behind the lamp to hum. The shadowy starlet of a femme fatale she loved to watch on television with her mother. Glinting. Dangerous. "This whole situation?" She lingered to sigh it even slower.

   "You and me." He'd sounded out, drawing nearer. "Us..." Evangeline, always the playful nymph, flitted off playfully. Spinning the other way to walk along so Billy came to her side easily.

   “I think you’re doing fine." She tapped her chin. "What about me? Evaluate my performance.” 

   “Ah. In a sea of slithery tadpoles, you’re a goddamn firecracker.” He’d laughed and Evie followed, covering her lips with one hand.

   “I don’t know how any of that correlates or makes sense, but I’ll take it.”

   “Neither do I. Just made it up to see you do that. The scrunchy thing you do when you’re too happy or upset with me.” Billy’s nose crinkled as he grinned there. Evie came up to peck his freckles.

   “You’re a total sap, Hargrove.” Evie continued, hands clasped behind her back before she inhaled the air. “Let’s hit that mini mart nearby. I’m craving a Dr. Pepper. Buy you a soda. It’s my turn.”

   “No, it isn’t. You’re just being too nice again,” Billy remarked, feet shifting slower as they crossed the street. “I can’t take you fancy places.”

   “I don’t need to go to fancy places, I just like hanging out with you wherever.” Evie turned her head to see him. “We’re both poor, we make due. Summer will be better. We can just work and...figure this out. I like it right now though, so don’t worry because I know how you shiver in those boots.”

   She pondered it.

   “Do you like it?” Evie offered quieter, earning Billy’s eyes searching her expression. Lip twitching, he tossed his arm around her. Brought Evie taut into his frame with an easier grin so they could keep walking toward the whirling, illuminated sign in the distance.

   “Yeah, I like it.” He decided. “I like you plenty. What's not to like, Evangeline?” His free hand gestured out and Evie beamed to point at that darling face. Her Eros. Encouraging her wings to unfold without pressure.

   "Wow, you're getting better and better at that." A beat. "Making me blush without rolling my eyes."

   "Please, Angel, your knees quiver every time I hit you with this smile. You might as well toss off the panties for me." For good measure, he flashed it and Evie hid from his absolute burning charm. Cheeks felt that fire bloom and billow.

    A car hurried past them. Sweeping budding flowers and loose leaves about. Delicate, they danced. Trees wobbled back and forth to the wind picking up. Evie stayed looking away to smile that time. Knew this wind would carry her easily.

   "Did you have a best friend back in California?" She moved her arm around his back as they went. 

   "I don't know. Guess I had a few in orbit."

   "Am I your best friend here?" She piped back up and Billy slowed to glance, chuckling.

   "I thought you and I were avoiding labels."

   "It's different." Came the protest.

   "No, it isn't." He paused. "Heather's your best friend."

   "Yeah, but I figured I could have more than one. Perfectly carved places for each." Evie shifted in front of him, hands smoothing up Billy's shoulders to clasp fingers round his neck. Blue eyes glittered to search.

   "You trying to push some admission outta me, Fenny?"

   Lashes batted with all the innocence they could hold.

   "Just admit it, Hargrove," she pulled him down for a lip lock, pecking his jaw and cheeks until he broke to laugh and hold her at bay. One brow lifted. "It'll be our dirty little secret."

   "Fine. Only cause you twisted my arm about it and it gets you hot. You are my very," he palmed her bottom to make her gasp in one motion, "very best friend. Happy?" Billy stole a kiss when she was still dumbfounded, molding their frames together.

   "Maybe I am." Evie sighed, sounding too raw and honest about it. She came out to see his eyes there. Tried to read them. Billy blinked to say something else.

   “So, you're already thinking about graduation and summer, huh? Moving quick.”

   “I’m optimistic is all. It’s a rare thing with me so I'm just enjoying it. I’m not used to happy and good.” Evie got cheeky to hide anything else, winking over her shoulder before she went inside the tiny store.

   Fluorescent lights washed out too many colorful packages. They picked cold cans of soda and bright yellow packs of Jujyfruit candies to curb a sweet craving. Billy gripped the paper bag in one fist and Evie snatched his free hand when they got outside.

   “C’mon!” She picked up the pace. “Let’s catch the bus to the other side of town.”

   “Billy Hargrove doesn’t take the bus. It’s all full.” He’d complained, still rushing after her to the stop.

   “Try something new.” Evie was giggling, tugging at him to get on.

   With the bus full of residents leaving work, they took some standing room with a group up front. Fingers curled into the handles above, swaying closer together due to the rocking and crowding. A hard turn sent Evie into Billy’s chest, her hand sprang out over his shoulder to catch the bar just above his head.

   “Trying to jump my bones in public, little Miss Fenny?” He feigned a look of awe, brows lifting playfully. His free arm slipped around the small of Evie’s back, bracing her there into his marble frame. “You know how much easier it is if you just ask, Angel?”

   Evie wanted to scoff. Wanted to scrunch that annoyed look she was known for. Wanted to send him to the floor and kiss him for miles and miles. But, she just stood there in the dim, flickering bus lights. Watched his expression relax. Not really breathing until she reminded herself. 

   Billy seemed to remember as well. At the back and forth shifting of the vehicle, they squished together. Forcing looks away to see the path again. Billy pushed his thigh further between her legs. Both of them idly rubbing together now. Evie felt the heat crawl up her cheeks, lungs tremoring. Billy’s fist holding the bag shifting a little lower on her back, firm and scalding hot. 

   She peered up at his jawline. Looked away. Felt Billy’s eyes wander back after before he flickered elsewhere. Denim pushed against denim. Billy hitched this breath as if he might whimper. Swallowed it down. Hips swaying back and forth and back again. A thumb pushed deftly into her back. Evie shifting in, lips parting. Trembling as Billy turned his head to see her centimeters from him. 

   “This is our stop.” She’d said in his ear. Leaning flush into him to pull the cord down. Billy inhaled the amber. Brushed his nose into her own while she came back out.

   “Don’t wanna stop.” His freckles looked especially glowy outlined in a rare blush. The bus skidded and Evie veered back with some amusement. Brown eyes casting Billy up and down before she skipped off in a hurry, leaving him to chase her because he’d always chase her. Bag still wrinkled around Billy’s fist, he caught up with her. Under the streetlamps surrounded by dancing moths. 

   “We near Lover’s Lake?”

   “Yeah, the park nearby. Figured some loitering would do us good.” Evie stepped across the grass and sand. Listened to the dark structures creak. “C’mon. I love the swings.” 

   She plopped back into one, legs kicking some before Billy joined her. He cracked one can of soda to offer it, feet shifting over the sand to sway closer together. Chains creaking. 

   They clicked drinks and guzzled fizz before Evie snagged the candy out. Stealing a few chewy pieces. The bright box got passed back and forth during a comfortable silence. Billy watched Evie as she observed the moon there. 

   “Do you know any constellations?” She’d asked quieter, forcing him out of the daze. Curls caught the illumination with stars dotting her dark eyes. 

   “Not really.” He took the candy back as she swallowed a piece.

   “You see that crooked line? Those four little guys, they call that...Salem’s Lot. And...” Evie touched her lips, pointing again. “Those two bright boys there. Called Shawshank. Oh, and that one-”

   “These are Stephen King references.” He pushed her.

   “No, I’m very smart and they’re real-life constellations. Listen and learn, Billy boy.”

   “So, are you gonna call that grouping, The Shining or The Overlook?” He pointed to a cluster and Evie snickered.

   “Obviously that’s Carrietta White’s Constellation. Duh. Cause it looks like a rain of blood.” Evie snorted and Billy joined her, heads pressing together as they giggled like school children.

   “You know she wears a crushed red velvet dress in the book? Not pink as seen in the movie.” Billy stretched out, finishing his soda.

   “You know she’s fat in the book, too?” Evie winked at him, eyed the trash, and tried to toss her can at it. Missing badly, it smacked the rim and fell in the sand with a clatter. “Damn it!” Billy laughed at her louder.

   “Don’t try for a career on the court, Evie.” He watched her pout as she plucked it up to throw it away properly. “Now, watch the master work.” He aimed as she sat down. One deft hand reeled back and launched it only to have Evie’s palm smack it easily the other direction. Almost falling out of her seat cackling, she got the candy pushed into her arm before he gawked and went to get it.

   “Oh,” she kept up without air, “I thought you were the master? You should have seen your face!”

   “Yeah, yeah.” He grumbled, dunking it in the can with an echoing clank. For some cheery consolation, she offered the rest of the box to him. Tiny candy pieces fell into his palm before he pushed them all into his mouth at once, eyes lifting to the sky again. Billy made a face and turned to go to push her swing. “Gimme another constellation.”

   “Hmm.” Evie held the chains, began to swing properly at his coaxing. Felt like they were in a secret garden together. Water rippling against the air distantly. Cold chill not bothering either of them. “Those two stars. The little one and the big guy. See?”

   Billy gripped the chains, keeping her swing up against him to follow the gaze

   “That’s Neverland. Second star to the right and straight on till morning.” She snickered again as Billy pushed her forward. “Bet I can beat you there. I’ll jump from the swing.”

   “You’re on.” Billy stole the seat next to her, both of them pumping higher. Curls fluttering. Laughing. Happy because they were together and that mattered.

   “I’m going to overthrow Pan and Hook. Become the most fantastic Lost Girl with a siren song to command the island and you’ll write your stories.”

   “Think so?” Billy pushed himself higher. Actually thought he might fly with Evie there.

   “Yes! You’ll tell the greatest stories ever heard through the land and they’ll echo back down here to be loved too.” She proclaimed that. Not having heard Billy’s stories, but believing what was in his heart. 

   Time slowed. Wild laughter crackled toward the sky. Utter sparks as they jumped together and collided to roll around the sand. Evie was still alight with joy under him, hair splayed everywhere as Billy snapped up to check her over, hovering. Evie’s giggling tapered off against the night air. She stared up at him. Framed in twinkling stars. He said something she didn’t catch.

   “You have beautiful eyes,” Evie sounded out slower, lost in the endless crystalline blue. “Did you mean it?”

   “Mean, what?”

   “What you said when we were lying in bed together. You said I was the best thing about this place. People never say things like that. Not to girls like me. I believed it when you said it though and it was easy too.” Evie skimmed her fingers over his jacket. Watched Billy’s eyes flicker to recall that moment and the clouds he floated upon like lily-pads in a pond.

   Billy swept down. Planted a hot kiss that was all lips. Swelled her mouth when he pulled out. He left Evie fluttered and came to her ear.

   “That was a yes.” He pushed up, eyes too sly. “By the way.” Evie took a hand when he offered one and got pulled to her feet, bodies stumbling together. They tried to brush the sand off fabric. 

   “Do you think about that night? The dance, I mean. Not...the sex. Well, I guess it’s okay to think about the sex actually.” She blushed there when Billy’s lip quirked. His fingers still wrapped around her wrist. “Before all that went down with Brock. It was-”

   “Not terrible.” He finished.

   “Not at all. The first part of the night, sometimes I wish we could go back and-”

   “Rewrite it.” Billy looked around, giving Evie a tug. He pulled her up on the metal roundabout, painted red and blue that was chipping away. “Hold on.” Another smile had curled as he braced to get it spinning.

   “Billy!” Evie jerked to hold tight to the bars. Hair flying up. Curls coiled out. Fire billowing gracefully. “What are you doing!”

   “Turning back the clock,” he charged and jumped on with her, wobbling to hold something, "to redo it.” Evie grabbed for his coat. Fisting the fabric when they locked eyes. Wind rushed in a thrill with memories tumbling together and apart. 

   Her wings sprang forth.

   Billy made Evie the still point to his turning world. For just a moment. Knew, if anything, that meeting her was something truly important. An unseen force that would twist his heart forever.

   Spinning round and round. He recalled the metallic confetti dancing and the way the music pulsed. The carousel began to slow, both teens holding the bars and each other to say level.

   Slower, Evie pecked a kiss upon his lips to mirror the first. Unable to come out far, Billy was already closing the distance for the second. Trying to pay her back with a thousand sweet kisses. 

   Cheers rang and fireworks burst. She remembered it all too. How dizzy and still the world seemed to be. How it hushed for her too sweetly. Billy’s hands on her face, cradling delicately to angle the second kiss a little deeper. They felt the metal clink to stillness under them and inched back out.

   “I want to go home with you,” Evie said the words she wished she had that night. Huge dark eyes glittering. She found his lips again. Not worried about air or what the future held for them. Lost on a rosy haze and perfectly fine for these stolen fleeting seconds. “Can we go?” Billy searched her, thumb sweeping a circle into her jaw. He smiled fully.

   “Only if we can take the bus again.”

** ** ** ** 

   “Happy Birthday!” Evie gushed, offering a gift to a small pile. Max had her arms around her before she’d gotten a chance to turn. One hand shifted to the shorter girl’s back. Music whirled with a campy light show, made the horribly patterned carpets glow. “Carol and Heather are on their way in. Tommy’s around but he won’t hang near the table.”

   “Neil’s going to be late. Work stuff.” This explained why Max’s smile was so bright. Evie nudged her chin, head cocking. “You brought your own skates.”

   “I know it’s dorky, but they’re my babies.” Evie gestured to the red skates swung over one shoulder. “Evie Fenny doesn’t rent her skates.”

   “That’s El, come meet her,” Max pulled Evie off after she got one wave at Susan behind the table setting up. “Billy’s grabbing stuff from the car. He drove us.” 

   El Hopper was a tiny thing. Almost like a little bird compared to Hopper’s hulking frame behind her. She peered around and seemed at instant ease upon seeing Max.

   “El, this is my neighbor, Evie," Max introduced them, "she’s cool.”

   El made this gesture like she had a needle and poked at her hand.

   “Yes!” Max got it, tugging Evie’s arm. “She taught me the felting thing.”

   “Hope the sharp objects weren’t a bother in your house, Chief Hopper.” Evie perked up at Jim with a sheepish expression. “I should have asked you, I know it might seem a little dangerous.”

   He actually laughed at that. If only she knew the danger these kids had gotten into prior.

   “Believe me, crafts are a welcomed change.”

   “El, nice to meet you. I’m Evie. Max talks about you all the time.” Evie held out her hand and the young girl looked shocked. “Good things.”

   A slower smile crossed. She took Evie’s hand to shake it. Awkward about her navigation but trying to take everything in. Clearly never been to a party like this one. Kids of various ages circled the floor on skates. Laughing. Holding hands. 

   “Max...talks about you too. I like your hair.” El mirrored. Peered to Hopper with a pleased expression he matched. She offered Max a wrapped gift. Evie grinned and touched her curls, pulled up into two high, rounded buns.

   “C’mon, let me show you the table they’re setting up.” Max took El’s wrist to usher her off.

   “Are you...staying to skate?” Evie turned to the Chief.

   “El’s, ah, not used to crowds. She came from some unfortunate circumstances. I’d like to stay close. First party. Maybe I’m hovering.” He pushed his hands into his pockets. Not in uniform. Evie beamed a little.

   “She’s young, you’re worried. It’s sweet, actually. You’re just being a good dad.” The smile seemed to dither in her eyes. Even when Jack was married to Mona, he wasn't always around. Work and trips kept him busy, but he stayed to close to Evie the moment he arrived home with his little gifts and endless stories. “Don’t come running over if she falls, we got her.”

   “Yeah, uh, if you could keep an eye on El when you see her around. That would mean a lot to me. I know you babysat the Henderson kid. El doesn’t need a babysitter, she’s just… This is new for her.” Jim gestured. Digging for a smoke he couldn’t have in the immediate area. 

   “Heather, Carol, and I will keep an eye out.”

   “Carol?” He chuckled. “Perkins?”

   “Oh, yeah, we made up. Funny thing.”

   “Almost as funny as you hanging out with the Hargrove boy through winter.” He quirked his brow.

   “What can I say, Chief...” Evie shrugged. “I’m...branching out.”

   As if on cue, Billy paced in a side door. Bag clutched under one arm. He caught Evie’s glance instantly. Both of them locked in and back out on cue. Blue eyes shifted up and down because she was wearing his denim jacket over a little lacy, floral top tucked into her jeans.

   Neil would arrive and they had an act to keep up. Ignoring each other.

   “I’ll sit far." Jim offered. "Pretend I’m not here.”

   She about cackled, lost in thought still.

   “I’ll just pretend you’re my real dad,” Evie winced at herself, saw him pause with some subtle awe, “oof, I’m not sure where that came from. Ouch. Okay. Walking away now. Sorry, Chief.”

   “Evie.” He eased a gentle hand toward her. “What I said. If there’s...anything going on. You can talk to me. On or off the record.”

   “Yeap. Right. I’m okay. I’m...I’m gonna...skate. Yeah. Sorry. Oh, my…” Evie whirled to hurry off, cringing all the way to the table. “I think I just had a mental break.”

   “What?” Heather had chuckled.

   “Nothing. Time to skate?” Came Evie’s begging. Agreement followed.

   Hopper made himself scarce with a cigarette and plate of cheese fries in the corner. Billy plopped himself into a chair behind the decorated table, looking disinterested. Not catching Evie’s eyes while she sat with the girls to put her skates on. Just watched Susan set out plates for pizza and cake. 

   Evie went out with Heather first for a lap, both of them giggling and pulling little stunts to show off for Tommy who was on the ground as Carol pulled at him. Max jumped over his leg, cackling before she tried to get El to come out with them. 

   “Kinda reminds me of us. They’re too cute.” Heather quipped, whirling to skate backward. They joined the younger girls, hoping to get El relaxed and away from the wall she seemed to cling to. Every turn, Evie shot Billy a look. Got his lips quirking before he ruefully was peering away. 

   “Do you want to skate, Billy?” Susan had asked after a beat, weary of the music already. Bit of a glittery disco mess. That same dreamy rose haze in the air.

   “About as much as I want to give my old man a sponge bath, Susan.” Billy frowned for effect and dropped it when she actually laughed at him. It was an easier thing for them to talk without Neil’s shadow. 

   “Well, the offer is open if you want to.” Susan thought to tell him Evie looked beautiful today when she caught him staring at her for the third time but decided not to be obvious. Not yet. 

   “You’re supposed to tell me I’m being inappropriate and I’m going to send your only daughter down with me.” He recited easily.

   “I was your age once, Billy, I know how to laugh still.” Susan seemed surprised at the revelation herself. Slowly, she took a seat next to him. Not leaving another chair as a buffer like she usually did. “It might not be so bad. Her following you, you know, after this. When she’s older. She still looks up to you.”

   It became clear what Susan was asking him. Max would resent her one day down the line. For the choices she made. The things she couldn’t stop no matter how hard she tried. Maybe Billy and Max didn’t always get along, but he’d be a safer place for her than whatever was leftover in that house. Susan would always be under Neil Hargrove, but she could ensure her daughter would not be. One day.

   Billy leaned forward on his elbows, palms rubbing. He felt for his ring and remembered it was hidden under Evie’s dipping sweetheart neckline. He didn’t say anything, but met Susan’s eyes.

   “Evie’s been a good friend to her.” Susan crossed her legs and sat back to watch the girls laugh. Slowly easing into the conversation. El wobbled, holding hands with Max and Evie to gain some speed. Heather was trying to help Carol steady poor Tommy. “Don’t you think so?”

   “I haven’t noticed.” Billy turned his head aside.

   “She’s very pretty. Kind. That’s all I’m saying. She and her mother, they’re nice neighbors to have on Cherry.”

   “Jesus, Susan, why don’t you date them both?” Billy shot up to go to the snack counter. Susan ghosted this smile after him, hands clasping. “Cheese fries. Jalapenos...Extra jalapenos.” He got his plate and turned to see Chief Hopper’s cigarette glow red. “You got any more of those? My pack is out and they don't have a machine in this joint.”

   Jim just eyed him.

   “I’m legal.” Billy puffed before a stick flicked across the table. “Camels. Unfiltered. Disgusting. Are you a flannel hobo of some kind with those?”

   The Chief gawked at him.

   “Don’t you smoke Reds? Baby’s first cigarette.”

   Billy matched him. Offended.

   “I’m smoking with the big boys, Hop. You should try it.”

   “You in a place to complain, kid?” Jim reached to take it back before Billy swiped, lighting up to puff. 

   “No, sir.” His lighter snapped shut. “You unable to cut the cord or is dressing like a lumberjack to hang out at a 70s roller disco a hobby?”

   “Haven’t seen you down at the station in a while. Few months, in fact. Turning over a new leaf this year?” Jim remarked instead, leaning forward on his elbows.

   “Aw. You miss me or something? Your boys finally get tired of chasing me down? Or trying to.” Billy gave this comedic pout, head turning to eye Evie again. Graceful swan that she was out there. His jacket hanging off her shoulders, exposing that neck. Little wisps of curls swayed about from her space buns decorated with matching glittery star barrettes, loose hair framing her face. Brown eyes flicked up and he snatched his gaze away. “Guess I found something else to get into that isn’t trouble. You guys bore me down there, I like to be amused.”

   “The real crime-stopper, boredom. Color me impressed and shocked.” Jim seemed to like that, eyes rolling. Billy puffed and swept a piece of tobacco from his mouth. “I guess whatever you’re doing, keep it up.” He watched Billy crunch on some salty jalapenos, plucking five gooey fries at once to swallow them down. Almost starved.

   “I intend to.” Billy flicked his greasy fingers to his brow. “Chief.”

   “William.” 

   Billy mumbled as he went off, finishing the smoke to flick it out a back door. Eyes shifting to watch the girls plus poor Tommy. El was already better than him.

   “Man, I’m dying out here. Help me. I’ll tag you in.” Tommy scrambled up the sidewall and clung, out of breath. Freckles all dewy.

   “You wanted to be a good boyfriend,” Billy cackled for good measure, "that'll teach you."

   “Feed me a fry,” Tommy begged over the barrier.

   “Fuck out of here, they’re mine. My dad will show soon so you can disappear to a corner and get your own damn fries.” To make it a point, Billy stood there and fed himself.

   Behind Tommy, Max skidded and fell with Evie barely catching her. Both girls had gone down in a fit of giggling.

   “We’re fine, go on!” Max waved to Heather and El ahead of them. Carol came to steal Tommy back as Billy craned to see his step-sister.

   “You alright?” Evie was picking her up when Max’s shirt slipped closer to her pale shoulder, flashing a burst of purple there the size of a softball. “Oh, my god.” It slipped out before she could stop it.

   “That’s-!” Max cut herself off and fixed her shirt. Spring was creeping and all she donned was long-sleeved and frumpy. Dressing almost like Susan. “I fell, you know, on my board.” Evie tried to give her the dignity of a look that said she believed it. Must have cracked. “Evie, it’s nothing. Don’t worry. Please.”

   Dressing like Susan. Sounding like Billy.

   “Max, my house is-”

   “I know, but don’t… Don’t say anything. Not to Billy or my mom, ah… Neil’s here.” Max put her head down and skated around Evie to go away. 

   There was something particularly helpless about watching a young girl flee obediently to her monster. Evie wondered if this was what she looked like to Billy headed to Fredrick's place.

   Small. Scared. Lost.

   Neil Hargrove started with words. Lots of horrible words that whittled Max down to a hard pit. Then pushing. Then some grabbing. Then shoving. Into walls mostly.

   The hit didn’t bruise Max. It was more of a swipe to make her go to her room for talking back. Whatever that meant to Neil. But, he was drunk and he caught her jaw with an open palm. That stayed red for the day until she snuck a pack of frozen peas, not wanting Susan or Billy to know.

   But, the swipe sent her into the dining room table. Left the violet petals bursting under her skin. Evie lost the urge to skate and came out. Saw Billy’s eyes again and paused to help Heather usher El out for food. 

   “You’re a natural.” Evie complimented which earned a full smile. El opened her mouth to speak before Billy appeared in front of them.

   “They’re making us sing.” He cocked his head, peering at El. “You’re the one with the funny name, aren’t you?”

   “Jane. But,” she seemed to have trouble staring at him for more than three extended seconds and pointed to her chest, “El.” Red crept across her cheeks. Billy towered over her, cocking a wider grin to play up the fact that she was all blushy for a pretty older boy.

   “El?” He raised one brow. “What’s the L stand for?”

   “Ignore him.” Heather pulled the younger girl around Billy as he chuckled, pausing to see Evie. Her colorless expression.

   “You okay?” He said it hard with a furrowed brow.

   “Fine.” She tried to make it sound cold but it came out near silent. Head turned down as she flitted around him to join the party.

   Neil, stiff and stoic, pressing his lips like he was at the damn DMV. Susan plastered a broader grin to dote on him after his long day, lingering close to his side as they set out pizza and readied the cake.

   It was all so routine. Like getting your shots. 

   Pizza. Sing. Candles. Wish. Cake. Gifts. Thank you.

   Billy and Evie took the farthest seats from each other. Played a game of glance and ignore that they’d made up on the spot. They both were either losing or winning.

   “Strange,” Neil remarked as he pulled Max aside for another slice. “You and the high school girls.”

   “Oh, I invited El too, she’s my age. I didn’t want to leave Evie out and the girls...they’re nice to me.”

   “They don’t dress like nice girls.”

   Heather and Carol both donned perfectly normal tees and jeans. Nothing would suffice for Neil Hargrove. Max shifted her cake around. No longer hungry for it.

   “Maybe we’ll talk about the type of girl you should hang around at a later time. The Fenny girl is nice enough, even if her shirt is a little too...low. Dresses kinda tight. Bit of an odd one. She’s different. Her friends, well...I’m just not sure, Maxine.”

   “Yes, sir.” She looked at her birthday cake like it was infested with worms. Carefully forced a bite and set it aside. 

   Max hung around. Smiled and thanked everyone after each birthday present. Even hugged Neil only cause he opened his arms at her. She said bye to El then Heather. Carol seemed to be turning in as well so Tommy went out back to get the car. 

   As the party went on and dwindled, Evie caught Billy’s eyes gesturing to the rental counter. He slipped around the corner into the many shelves and Evie turned back to see Max and Susan at the table. Neil seated in a chair not helping them clean up, eyes elsewhere. Casually, she skated around and got her arm snatched. A gasp snuffed against a pair of lips. Kisses hidden away from the world. 

   “Paid the kid a few coins and a threat to leave for ten minutes."

   Music vibrated the shelves. Evie put her arms around Billy.

   “I still have skates on.”

   “Even better. I might have a thing for girls in red skates.” Billy was all hands, holding Evie steady. Pulling one leg around his hip. Pushing denim into denim. Hot friction might have done her in any other day.

   “We are not hooking up with all the smelly rental skates.” Evie laughed into his lips, still pecking back and peering over her shoulder. She paused to see his eyes. Wanted to blurt what she’d seen on Max’s body. Even to Billy now, it felt wrong. So, she said something else.

   “Hey, we should…keep an eye on your sister, you know. It’s her birthday. She’s...She needs her big brother.”

   Billy huffed into her neck.

   “Fine, fine, but you’ll regret not taking the adventure on here.”

   “Yeah, I’m sure.” Evie shifted. “My feet hurt and we can make-out in my bed later.” She kissed his neck. “I’ll do that thing you like if you promise you went easy on the product down there.”

   “Only dotted the gold crown. Scout’s honor.” Billy winked and she rolled her eyes. He peered out first. “Give it a second then follow.”

   “Wait.” Evie thumbed her red lipstick from his mouth. “Now, shoo.” Billy licked his lips and snuck out. She waited a moment. Let the happy butterflies land in her stomach then followed. Pausing, her skates came off for more comfortable tennis shoes.

   “Evangeline, do you need a ride home with us later?” Neil had asked. 

   “No, thank you, I was getting a ride with Carol now.” She smiled and looked for red hair to say her goodbyes. “Where’d Max go?” Evie collected her coat and Susan paused to peer around.

   “She was here a second ago. Neil?” Hands dropped a stack of plates into the trash.

   “Probably went to the bathroom.” He shrugged, squinting at all the moving lights that were making his head pound. “Billy, go find your sister.” 

   Billy seemed to notice the look on Evie’s face and feel the same chill before he hurried off without fighting. Susan looked through the sea of kids and teens meandering as Evie passed her to check the ajar side door. 

   "Max!" The one flickering light at the exit made her skin crawl. A cry echoed distantly followed by a dull crash in the dark. Like a bag of trash hitting the dumpster.

   Evie dropped her skates to follow the hollowed-out sound. Exhaust swept up her nose and tires gave a harsh wail, horns sounding while a faraway car disappeared around a row of trees to get to the main street with the rest. 

   “Max!” Evie charged out. Heart painfully thudding within her ribs. 

   “Evie?” Carol heard her and footsteps echoed around the building.

   “Max!” Evie was near tears now. A shift in some fallen trash bags made her pause when two sneakers appeared around the side of the dumpster. This odd scratching sound left her lips. Evie threw herself over the tiny body there, turned Max’s limp frame over. 

   Her shirt collar was ripped open where someone grabbed her. Or tried to. Dragging then dropping her when she put up a fight. Bleeding scrapes and dirt scuffed all over her pale freckled skin from the rough tumble. Carol got to them first and pulled off her sweater to cover Max’s torso while Evie gathered her up. 

   “Help!” Carol called because Evie couldn’t. More bodies arrived. Tommy. Susan. Billy. Neil. 

   “Neil, she won’t wake up.” Susan pulled her daughter out of Evie’s arms, shaking her. Moans filtered out, but nothing else. “What happened?”

   “I don’t know. I saw...a car. It was too dark. I just found her here on the ground. Someone tried to...” Evie wheezed out and never finished, gesturing aimlessly. 

   “Susan, give Maxine to Billy. She needs a hospital.” Neil swept down as Billy urged his sister’s tiny body away. This hard. flamed expression on his face as if he wasn't really here.

   Max looked broken. Not real. A doll left under the bed for too long without love or cherished stories to comfort it. Evie felt the knees of her jeans soak through from the wet pavement. Too many words hit the air and Evie’s eyes dropped to where that harsh car had gone to.

   Evangeline wondered what kind of monster would grab up a little girl and throw her out into the trash.

   And why the world bore so many of that same design.

~~~~~

Mad Max :( Her story line is gonna start to push toward the front here and there with Evie's in pieces. Thanks again for following the fic, I really appreciate it! Please please leave some words if you enjoy the fic. XOXO Taglist open

TAGLIST:: @80sbxtch​ @nottherightseason @alagalaska @alongcamedolly @kellyk-chan @10blurredsmoke10 @charmed-asylum @unmistakablyunknown @lukespatterson @arkhamasylumpatient-blog1

[insomniac-dot-ink]

The Long Bus Ride

Genre: supernatural horror

Words: 5.6k

Summary: When her late night bus stops in the middle of a rolling fog cloud Frieda starts to worry. Then she starts seeing words being written in the condensation on her window and she truly gets unnerved.

A group of strangers must now try to get through the night as something seems to be outside.

content warning: body horror

---------

The bus was mostly empty that evening. That was typical with rising fares and the fact most people would have tried to be home hours ago. It was too early for the late night party crowd and too late for the normal working crowd.

The bus driver was a big guy named Ted, I knew him by his portly size and baby-smooth clean shaven face. He had youthful thick brown hair grown a little long probably for vanity’s sake and a large pot belly that sagged over the shiny tight black belt around his waist.

He always nodded at me when I got on and always stopped for people when they were running to catch the 431. He wasn’t always on time like the other bus driver-- Nory, but he also honked his horn a little less than him too.

I flashed my bus pass at Ted that evening with our usual nod and a lingering achy bitterness settling in my core. Deirdre’s daughter had come to visit again that afternoon and there was always too much nasty energy in the house on those days. I liked to keep things neat, both personally and professionally. I kept my purse organized into tiny pockets and my clothes sorted in bins by season and I never mentioned anything personal at my job.

Everything had its place, but it was harder to be politely indifferent to the household when they were throwing barbed words at each and asking my opinion. It bothered me to have to be anything other than “day nurse Frieda” to them. It blurred our relationship when they turned to me and said “tell my mother she needs to finalize her will” and so on.

Of course, Deirdre should and did need to finalize her will, but expressing that broke far too many boundaries in a messy way. 

I was ready to be home an hour ago by the time I walked to the bus stop with the sun already carefully nestled behind the city skyline. The purple of a gloomy summer night was heavy across the horizon and I didn’t even both to check my phone watch. I knew my Friday night was almost already over.

My feet ached as I turned to walk down the aisle of the 431 bus headed to Oakland. My chin was sinking toward my chest like a balloon tug insistently downward by a toddler. An older man sat near the front.

He was a skinny, wiry man with a thick mustache and clothes with spots of what I hoped was motor oil on his patterned button-up and workman pants. He wore heavy boots and watched me with small eyes under enormous eyebrows that could have probably watched me as well for the sheer size of them. He had no bags or anything with him and he sat like there was a drill sergeant ready to bark at him if he so much as slouched a little.

No one else sat in the seats near the front designated for the elderly and pregnant. The seats themselves were blue and yellow with party designs on them like you might see at a tacky bowling alley. It was an older bus that hadn’t even been upgraded to “green” standards yet and rumbled like a thunder storm wherever it went.

In the middle seats was a mother and child. She was a middle-aged black woman with long beaded braids tied back in a ponytail and wore a bright pink shirt and a slouchy pair of comfortable looking jeans. Her daughter looked around 9 or 10 and had her hair pulled back in a tight bun at the top of her head. She wore a hoodie over what looked like leggings and carried a sports bag with her.

The mother was probably picking her up from something like ballet practice. The daughter was leaning on the mom while she absently stroked her head and looked out the window. Something about the easy intimacy of it made me look away quickly.

One seat up and across from the mother and daughter was a gently snoring man. He had a wild beard, knit cap, and fingerless gloves. I could tell by the smell alone that he was homeless and had probably been sleeping on the bus for hours now. However, I had smelled worse and his jacket and jeans weren’t as grungy or disheveled as they could have been.

Two other people sat in the back, but luckily neither of them had claimed the final spot in the corner of the bus near the window. A young woman was one chair ahead of my seat, a short white girl who looked around college age. I wrinkled my nose at her because she was holding a paper cup with what I assumed was coffee and her hands were shaking.

She had on a long skirt with mud splotches at the bottom and a pale blue shirt with a mustard stain on the front. Her long auburn hair was tied back into a ratty knot at the back of her neck. She had on huge glasses dangerously close to the edge of her nose and she was staring out the window with the look of someone trying to count the yellow street lines and failing.

Across from her in the other corner of the bus was a high-school aged looking young man with a huge bag blocking the seat next to him. He was Asian with ink-black hair that he had spiked, and wore all black with dark ripped jeans and a band t-shirt. His ears were covered by silver earrings draped over the lobes like angry criss-crossing Christmas decorations.

He had a tattoo of what appeared to be a wing on his neck and smeared eyeliner around his indifferent gaze. He was wearing small earbuds and listening to something with an audible thrumming base.

I ignored both the messy girl and the punk boy as I took my seat and got out my book for the forty minute ride home. It was another pirate romance story-- which my sister recommended because she assumed she knew my taste. The action scenes were fine, but the actual tension between the main couple was blase at best.

I had to make sure no one sat behind me during my bus rides home though because I didn’t need anyone looking over my shoulder and finding the words “he touched my wet throbbing womanhood.” To say the least, the erotic parts of the novels were not that good either.

It was better than scrolling my phone right then though. I hated work emails more than I hated mud trailed onto the carpet in my house or slow-walkers on the sidewalk.

I peeked out the windows sometimes to get a look at the city as the street lights and building lights and headlights erupted one by one in a pale cascade. We were getting closer to the Oakland Bay bridge and the lights threaded along the beams like spiderwebs of frantic energy all captured and blooming at once. I had an affection for the city despite being trapped there.

I hadn’t actually come to California to be a geriatric nurse again. I already spent ten years working as one in Louisiana when an old college friend had called me up and asked if I wanted to join his startup. It sounded like a fairy tale: join an up and coming tech company and watch as you get boosted past “middle class” into something glamorous and decadent. Kitt knew me and knew I was good with people and offered to let me run the PR department.

Of course, I hadn’t joined for the money or the fact I was that interested in PR. I had been working in a nursing home for almost a decade by then and it had started to wear on me. I liked listening to people, especially people who were made of stories, and the job had originally suited me fine. But there was this… shadow over it all that started to eat at me.

A shadow of loss, of empty words, empty places where a sharp mind used to be, empty reassurances that meant nothing, brief glimpses of grief so intense that it split people in two. That shadow loomed larger and larger the longer I stayed. It chased me as my favorite grandma’s hands started to shake and my favorite patient stopped being able to play piano. I saw it in how some of them stopped meeting my eyes when the months dragged on and their time was coming. I saw in the way they stopped remembering my name or their own.

No. I didn’t want to work as an elderly care nurse any longer.

Of course, I was also 33 and single, and a change sounded good. So I moved all the way across the country, got the smallest apartment I had ever lived in, and dared to be a little bold. I wore brighter colors, spoke out more in meetings, cooked spicier foods, I went on dates with women for the first time.

But all good things come to an end. Most startups don’t make it, no matter how many twitter algorithms you try to “hack.”

I looked out the window and ignored my phone as it buzzed. There were other reasons I didn’t check my phone on the bus as well. Cynthia still wanted to meet now and then-- to see if we could make it work after all. I ignored the buzz.

I was lost to the erotic adventures of a very loud and very incompetent heroine when I heard a soft gasp come from in front of me. I usually had a rule of ignoring everyone else on public transport, but there was something about the sharp surprised sound that made me look up.

We were on the bridge now and it was damp and dark out. I blinked a couple times as I noticed a thick cloud seeming to descend. Fog was all but normal in San Francisco so I decided to go back to reading my book.

A small murmur passed between the daughter and mother in the middle of the bus, “it’s alright…” 

I looked up again and the cloud was quickly eating up the view and making the road ahead look shrouded and strange. Cars around us had already turned on their headlights and I could almost feel the bus slowing down as visibility ahead quickly disappeared.

I wrinkled my brow. I didn’t know much about weather, but we usually only saw fog like this in the mornings. I looked to the other side of the road and noticed that I didn’t see any cars coming toward us.

“Look mom,” I heard a small voice say and the little girl was pointing out toward the ocean. I tried to look out the window and make out the sea too, but only saw that same thick white. It was dense and shapeless around us and the bus was slowing down further.

“Where are the lights?” I snapped my head around and the punk kid had taken his earbuds out. His face was even more stony than before and his eyes were narrowed toward where the bridge would be. 

I set my jaw as I realized I didn’t see any of the glowing yellow lights that should be at least breaking through parts of the fog. Even worse, I checked ahead of us and behind, I had never known the Oakland bridge to ever be empty.

There were no more cars on either side of us.

I gulped. The bus was almost at a standstill.

“Hey!” The messy college girl holding the coffee called up from the back. “What’s going on?”

“Yeah, what’s the meaning of this? We’ve all got places to be.” The working class man stood up at the front.

Ted the driver didn’t turn around and there was something about his figure that sat wrong.

“Where the fuck are the lights?” The punk kid was standing up now and craning his neck to look outside.

“Excuse me, sir, is there a problem?” The mother had dragged her daughter into her lap and the little girl was looking directly out the window at something with the utmost focus.

I shifted uncomfortably in place and watched the scene unfold. Something cold was trailing down my spine. I liked to keep things neat, and this felt like it was about to pick up my wardrobe and dump it outside onto my muddy lawn.

A couple voices kept demanding to know why we had stopped, and the homeless man somehow kept dozing. “Ooh,” the little girl touched the window and suddenly my eyes were drawn back to my own window.

The fog was dense to the point of nothingness, and beyond the fog seemed to be an even thicker night. I furrowed my brow and drew back into myself. Condensation was gathering on the other side of the window-- the type you might see when your warm breath touches glass.

A thin layer of white was spreading across the window and then I saw what the young girl was “oohing” at.

“Everyone, step back from the windows.” I heard myself saying, reasonably, in as a controlled manner as I could.

Little droplets had now formed on the other side of the glass and the white haze was thick and tangible. That’s not why I jumped back though. A perfectly formed fingerprint was pressed into the condensation there. A clear oval that was dragging down, down, down the window and creating one long, straight line.

There was nothing behind that finger. There was no body or hand or anything attached at all. Only the imprint that was meticulously drawing downward.

“What the fuck?!” The punk kid scrambled back from his window as well.

“What’s going on?” The college student said in a panic as more little finger tips pressed against the glass. Hands, but not hands. My heart squeezed in my chest and a flurry of possibilities went through my head: I was in a coma, I was asleep, I was asleep in a coma. I was dead.

I was dead and hell is a bus ride.

“Ah!” I jerked my head around again and saw the old man in heavy work pants standing by the front with his mouth wide and eyes as round as silver dollars. He was staring at the bus driver in the way one stares at their parents declaring a divorce.

“Ted…” I muttered and forced myself forward. I wrapped my hands around the bus poles with each step and the metal was almost freezing at each touch. I stumbled across the long space.

“Mommy, what is it?” The window next to the little ballerina was absolutely covered in those floating strokes carefully applied by invisible fingers. They were drawing spirals and zig-zags and something that I dearly hoped wasn’t a letter of the alphabet.

I made my way past the sleeping homeless man who still managed not to wake and all the way to the front of the bus where the old man was staring at Ted.

“He’s-He’s--” He stuttered at me and fell back against a metal pole next to the door. 

“It’s alright, I’m a nurse.” I took a deep steadying breath. I had seen corpses plenty of times in my life and I knew how to keep myself focused on the tasks in front of me. Ted was slumped over and unmoving.

I reached for his arm first and picked up his limp wrist. I exhaled the second I reached his pulse and felt a faint thrum there. His skin was clammy and far too cold, but he was breathing. “Don’t look at the eyes.” The old man grabbed my shoulder. “Don’t look!”

I was never very good at averting my eyes when facing car crashes or jump scares in horror movies. He had a pulse. I needed to check for head injuries. I glanced at his face. Something was dripping down his cheeks in a steady flow.

I reached and tipped his chin up. I swallowed my scream before it could escape. His eyes were gummed shut with something black and bubbling. It was like tar that held both of his eyelids clamped closed and water was leaking out of the seams.

Droplets beaded down his cheeks and when I let his head fall again it leaked like rain down upon his lap. I stopped myself from heaving at the sight and looked downward. His foot was still on the gas, but we weren’t moving forward.

“Let’s go.” I ushered the old man away from Ted’s body. Something told me we shouldn’t touch it or be too close to it. We retreated back toward the other seats.

“E,” the little girl was tracing a letter in the condensation. Something outside was writing the letter E and then another letter next to it. “N.”

I walked down the center of the bus in a daze and the others looked at me. The disheveled college student stumbled toward us. “Is the driver alright?” I just shook my head and couldn’t find the words to explain that one of us was surely dreaming up a nightmare. 

The punk kid was sitting in the center of the back seats clutching his bag to his chest and his earbuds were back in.

“Little girl.” A voice barked. I turned and suddenly I noticed that the homeless man had sat up and his clear blue eyes were darting around the space frantically. “Don’t touch the windows.” His voice was deep and smoke-beaten. “Again, again, again.” He repeated, “Don’t touch. Again.”

I looked back to the shapes being drawn in the window panes. 

They were impossibly strange, but no sounds came from the drag of their fingers. In fact, I didn’t pick up any noises from the city at all: no honking, no sirens, no hums of life. I groped for the right words to try to make sense of this.

“Little girl!” The homeless man said sharply and he looked toward the closest window. “Don’t.” “Sheryl…” Her mother warned, but the little girl, Sheryl, kept tracing the letters the Things were drawing.

I watched in a trance, “T.” She said softly. “E.” I was watching the tip of her finger move when I caught the first glimpse.

My whole body froze like a jolt of ice pouring down my spine. Just beyond the invisible hand was a face submerged in the fog-- faint and shifting. It was hard to make out, but two black eyes drooped like runny eggs down it’s sunken cheeks and a mouth grotesquely frozen in a scream took shape for just a moment.

I grabbed for the mother, “everyone!” I found the energy to fill my words with urgency, “get away from the windows!” They all looked to me and I mustered every bit of my authority, “NOW!”

Reluctant shuffling followed. “Wait!” Sheryl protested as her mom picked her up and carried her to the center of the bus. “Wait!” She repeated, “it wasn’t finished.”

The fingers outside became more frantic as we retreated into the center of the bus as far away from the windows as we could get. They clawed and dragged and I could make out more and more faces, some with three fingers and some with seven. Faint outlines of the hands and faces morphed and danced just out in the darkness.

They never stood still or seemed to stop shifting and twisting as if unnaturally alive.

A shudder went through the small group as we huddled together like penguins being accosted by the arctic breeze. The punk boy was the last to reach us as he clung to his huge bag and entered the loose circle we created.

The old man was shifty-eyed and looked the most on edge. I kept an eye on him, as well as the homeless man who was hunched over into himself. “Again,” he muttered to himself. “Again.” The moments after we gathered were long and strained before anyone dared to speak and break the ghastly immense silence. “Something was wrong with the driver,” the old man finally announced as he looked to the fingers, “something is wrong here.” “Very wrong.” The college student echoed.

“Duh,” The pink kid said back with his teeth clenched.

“Perhaps it will be over soon.” I added softly, mostly speaking to myself.

“What’s everyone’s names?” I looked up as the homeless man finally broke himself upright again.

“What? Why?” The old man practically growled.

“Everyone here has got to have a name.” The homeless man’s blue eyes were still frantic and traveling faster than I thought they should back and forth across the space. “Got to have a name.”

“How do we know that will--” “Angela.” The mother spoke up. “And this is Sheryl. Have you seen this before?” She looked to him as if he must often see buses descend into hell before.

“I’m Rick.” He said without hesitating, “Angela, Sheryl,” he pointed to the college student as if to pose a question.

“Laura.” She said softly. Her hands were still shaking, but probably for different reasons now.

“Angela, Sheryl, Laura,” Rick almost sang and then prompted the old man to speak.

“I’m Drew.” The old man said hesitantly after a moment.

“And I’m Frieda.” I added as the punk kid spoke as well.

“I’m Jinu.” 

A silence spread and I didnt know what I expected to happen from swapping names with a group of strangers. Sheryl was frowning deeply. She whispered, “We shouldn’t have left where they can see us.”

That made me look back to the people I was stuck with and I opened my mouth to ask Sheryl if she was alright.

Bring

We jumped as one when a sudden and angry sound crackled and shook the space. 

Bring, bring

It was like the sound of an old phone back from the 90s. A classic, angry noise that ate up the whole area with its loud buzzing undertone.

Bring!

I felt my pocket and felt something vibrating there.

“It’s our phones…” Jinu said in a hush.

My phone was ringing. And I knew we were being hailed.

Bring, bring, bring

I felt sick.

Laura was the first to dig out her phone from her bright yellow purse and hold it in her hands.

Bring, bring

The iphone vibrated and almost shook its way out of her hands. It’s screen was completely black and something, something was making it ring. “What’s,” I couldn’t contain the question any longer. “What’s causing this?” No one answered me. Drew took out his phone next, a first generation android it looked like with a cracked screen that was just as black as the last one. Slowly, everyone except for Rick, extracted our phones and watched as they made the same cry together over and over again: bring, bring, bring, bring, bring.

I stared into the shiny black surface of mine. It was perfectly smooth and almost… too dark. A dark I had never seen before and reflected nothing back. It felt like it was eating the light up.

“Maybe,” Laura spoke up. “Maybe we could call the police.”

“It’s a little late for that honey.” Angela said with a forlorn sigh.

“Why are they ringing?” I asked dumbly.

“We shouldn’t answer.” Jinu growled and tossed his phone all the way to the other side of the bus.

Rick nodded, “Do. Not. Answer.” “But…” I frowned deeply. “We can’t stay here.” “We can’t answer either.” Rick said in his same husky, withered tone. Drew nodded and threw his phone away, I followed suit mostly to stop looking at the shiny blackness of the screen. Angela seemed to almost break hers as she chucked it away as well, and Laura was the last one. She gripped it tightly and looked up.

“What do you think those are?” She finally voiced our fears and looked back to the fingers and morphed faces. “Are they… are they what’s calling us?” I shrugged, “does it matter?” I glared, “we can’t risk it. Throw it away.” “What happened to the driver?” Laura whispered and I just shook my head. She threw her phone away.

We all looked at each other carefully, and then we waited.

--------

Time ticked by with an anonymous meaningless face. On some level I think most of us expected to wake up soon, or for the sun to rise or to have God yelled “pranked!” from somewhere up in the sky. At least, that’s what I was waiting for.

The bus was still, just as cold and faceless as before, immobile as it had ever been. Alone in the middle of the bridge and alone in no place at all. I had a switch knife I carried around that I now held in my clenched fists and the world stood still.

Empty, except for the constant, unending sound of the phones: bring, bring, bring. They chorused and buzzed on the other side of the bus as we huddled in the center. It was endless. People did what they could to distract themselves from their impossible voices. 

Jinu put his headphones back in and turned them all the way up. Laura covered her ears with both hands and rocked back and forth in a ball. Rick gazed unseeingly up at the ceiling with a deep frown on his face. Drew was drawing something on his palm as if doing math equations on his skin.

I distracted myself by talking to the mother and daughter. “You want to be a prima ballerina when you grow up?” I asked softly as I watched Sheryl’s small face. Angela was still stroking her daughter’s head and holding her close as the minutes ticked by.

Bring, bring

“I want to dance in The Swan Lake,” she said factually. “I’m not good enough yet, but I will be.” I beamed. “I believe you.”

Bring, bring

“What do you do?” Angela asked and there was something forced about it.

“Nurse.” I said simply. “Though I came here for an app startup of all things.” 

“Oh?”

Bring, bring, bring I wasn’t usually one for idle-chit-chat, but a damp coldness was working its way through my chest. I had already noticed that Laura was shivering fiercely.

“Yeah, we were going to change the world or something he said,” I rolled my eyes, “but it didn’t turn out that way of course.”

“What kind of app was it?” Sheryl was still looking to her window, but she seemed present enough. 

“Oh, a ride sharing one. It was supposed to be a public minded service called ‘Democracy Bus.’ It was meant to help people get to the polls on voting days for free or get to civil rally's or debate parties,” I shook my head. “It never got off the ground.” Angela opened her mouth to respond, but seemed to be drained of some force within her.

Bring, bring

“That settles it.” Drew stood up with a hardened look on his face. “If I run I might make it to the other side of the bridge in a few minutes.” He nodded, “we were more than halfway to the other side by the time we stopped.”

We openly stared at the old man. Jinu took his headphones out, and Laura uncurled herself. Rick kept looking at the ceiling.

Bring, bring, bring

My mouth became a hard line, “We don’t want to let any of those things in here…” I whispered.

Drew dusted himself off, “I only need someone to pull the door open for a second. And beside,” his lips curled up, “we can’t exactly stay here and starve.” My skin prickled and I didn’t mention the fact I hadn’t felt hungry since the moment we stopped. I hadn’t felt thirsty either, or anything at all. Just cold. And damp.

“We’re not going out there.” Angela hissed first. “It’s too much of a risk.” She held her daughter tighter to her.

“Does anyone else have any ideas then?” Drew seethed. We were quiet.

Bring, bring

“Maybe we should answer one.” Laura said again, “just to see what happens.” She cocked her head to the side, “maybe they’ll let us go.”

“That sounds like an even worse idea than his.” Jinu said flatly.

“Don’t. Answer. The. Phones.” Rick finally joined the conversation and haltingly declared.

“Why not?” Drew narrowed his eyes icily, “What do you know?” Rick looked back up to the ceiling and set his jaw. Drew took a menacing step toward him, “What does he know?!”

“Oh,” Sheryl pointed, “Look. They’re trying again... E.” I looked up just in time to see the fingers all in one motion write the letter “E” over and over again on each window. I swallowed thickly. “We should all cover our eyes.” I announced, “We need to wait this out.”

Bring, bring, bring! Drew shook his head. “We just gotta open the door for a moment. I’ll go get help.” Angela looked like she was ready to pounce on him. “I told you! It’s too risky, there’s children aboard.”

“A child who keeps trying to communicate with them!”

The fingers were now writing “N” over and over again on every surface of the windows that there were. “N” She read softly.

“Guys,” I repeated and my voice rose, “I think we should cover our eyes.” “T,” Sheryl muttered and I dove for her first.

“Cover your eyes!” I screeched and slapped a hand over her gaze so that she couldn’t read it anymore.

Bring, bring!

“This is crazy!” Jinu started stumbling backward away from the group.

“Don’t leave us!” I reached for him as well.

“No!” Rick shouted, “I told you not to!”

I turned just on time to see Laura crawling toward her phone. She pressed on the screen with one finger and brought it to her face, “hello?” “E.” Sheryl said as my fingers slipped and the whole world came crashing down around us.

“Get back! Get away from her!” Rick pushed the three of us he could reach toward the back of the bus. Jinu let out a wordless scream and Drew reached for Laura.

“Young lady?” Laura’s face was completely contorted as she stood up. Her mouth opened in a grotesque snarl as her jaw jutted out awkwardly to the side. Her eyes were lifeless and started to leak drips of water down her cheeks.

She moved all at once-- like strings were unevenly tied to her knees. She took one jerky, tin step forward and then another.

“Drew,” I hissed and reached for him. “Get back.” “She’s so young,” he muttered. “She’s so young. Can you hear me?” The water was running down Laura’s cheeks like a faucet now and I couldn’t look away as her eyes sunk into their sockets. The white disappeared first into some unseen blackness. I pulled Drew back with all my physical strength and Laura took another step forward.

Could we fight her? Could we fight these things?

I took my knife out and slashed the air in front of us as she took her unpleasant, rigid steps forward. Her eyes had all but sunken into her head and her hanging mouth was now dripping water that smelled of something like mold and damp earth.

“Stay back,” I hissed and slashed the air again. “I’ll kill you.” To my surprise she turned. She faced one of the windows, the one that Sheryl has been sitting at only hours before back in the sunlight world. She touched the glass tentatively and the fingers repeated their last letter over and over again. Sheryl said a final ringing letter, “R.” ENTER.

I hugged myself and held my breath, bracing for the worst.

The windows did not break open though and the distorted faces did not slither inward. Laura got up onto the seat and started pressing into the window. Her eyes were completely gone and her ears and mouth and eyes were all steadily running over with streams of water.

It was wrong. It was hard to watch as she hands pressed gradually through the glass in an impossible manner.

It was a slow and painful process as she joined the mist. Hands grabbed her and pulled at her, her hair came loose and fell down her shoulders, and one of the people beside me started sobbing.

“It’s taking her…”

Someone started humming, Jinu I think. It was a sad and reluctant song that carried soberingly through the space. He hummed a funeral march just as she was tugged through the window and off into the white expanse with no name.

Our phones stopped ringing all at once and the fog began to lift as if in a dream. The next procession was mechanical and done in complete silence. We picked up our cracked phones and returned to our seats.

I didn’t know what compelled us, but I knew it had to be done. I knew we had to return to our exact same spots.

I took my seat at the back of the bus with my head bowed downward and Jinu sat across from me with his eyes focused on the skyline. Angela and Sheryl sat close and fixed in place. Rick went back to sleep. Drew sat closest to the driver and watched Ted sit up again.

Lights appeared beside us. Sounds of cars and bikers and voices reappeared. Headlights blinked on the other side of the road. Ted started the engine again. And we drove.

The bus rumbled onward through the beautiful dark night and city.

The only sign that we had ever been trapped in some place beyond here was the fact that my face was wet with tears and that there was an empty seat in front of me. I couldn’t remember her name though.

I looked down at my phone and I had 127 missed calls from “UNKNOWN” and a very brief text message from the same number. All it read was “again” and “enter.”

I closed my eyes and figured maybe it was time to move back home.

[dutten-does-the-fanfic]

I Want You Here With Me (Is It Too Much to Ask for Something Great) Epilogue

Title:  I Want You Here With Me (Is It Too Much to Ask for Something Great) ch. 14 of 14 (ch. 1)     Pairing: Isak Valtersen/Even Bech Næsheim     Word count: 3427 Warnings: Language

AO3

Summary:  The one where it’s been two years since Isak last saw or spoke with Even, and no one knows that Isak ever knew Even at all

Epilogue

“And we’re here on the red-carpet tonight, live for the premiere of Even Bech Næsheim’s new movie, ‘Yellow Curtains: All the Different Universes’. And here is the man himself!”

The interviewer is wearing a sparkly dress and is waving for Even to come closer, even as he’d already been instructed that this was the woman he was supposed to talk to.

“Good evening,” he grins into the horribly big microphone she’s struggling to hold up.

It’s loud – a lot of people having shown up for the grand return of Even Bech Næsheim, and Even has to lean close to the microphone and the lady.

“It’s so exciting to have you back and to be here tonight! A lot of people have been looking forward to this moment.”

Even nods. “Yeah, I’ve been waiting for this moment too, so I get it. It’s really awesome. I never get used to this feeling.”

“Now, fans have been speculating about the plot of this movie ever since the title dropped. Can you tell us what to expect?”

“I saw that! They were talking about how it could be about time travelling.”

She looks at him expectantly.

“It isn’t, but, hey, that’s another movie idea, right?”

“How about something else, then?”

“Um,” Even hesitates, scratching at his neck. “I don’t know? I mean, I want for people to watch the movie with an open mind so that they can be swept away by the story as much as possible and allow them their own interpretations and why a story like that is important to them.”

“So it’s an emotional movie?”

Even laughs. “I don’t know about that. I’ll probably cry, but that’s because it’s a story very dear to me, close to my heart, you know. I don’t want to make anyone cry.”

She grins. “I’m not so sure about that. Your track record says differently, Mr. Næsheim.”

Even laughs. “That’s true. But I think if this movie does make anyone cry, hopefully it’ll be a different kind of crying than that.”

“So it’s actually a happy film?” she attempts, but Even doesn’t bite.

“Can’t tell you that,” he winks, laughing when she rolls her eyes at him good-naturedly.

“Well, there’s certainly been a lot of hype about this movie. It’s one of the only movies this year with a trailer that revealed absolutely nothing about the plot, did you know that?”

“I did!” Even grins. “I’ve been made aware of it, repeatedly, by a lot of people online.”

“I can’t imagine it went over well.”

“Well, at least they’re looking forward to finally finding out what it’s about.”

“I think a lot of people are excited – look at everyone here! It’s quiet a grand return you’ve made!”

“It’s a little overwhelming, isn’t it?” Even grins shyly. “But a lot of them were involved in the making of the movie.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” she chides, which is true enough, because a lot of people had shown an interest in Even’s movies before his ‘break’.

She doesn’t ask about that, though, either by human decency or because someone briefed her, but they both know that some of the hype is due to a lot of old gossip resurfacing.

“But it is a very long cast-list. And it’s such a diverse cast as well,” she prompts, giving the microphone back to him.

“It is,” Even agrees. “I don’t want to spoil the movie too much, but there was a big need for so many people to be involved. And they all did so wonderfully, I’m so proud of them.”

“A lot of them are meeting for the first time tonight,” she points out. “How is that possible?”

“Different filming schedules?” Even laughs. “I don’t know. Well, I do know, but I can’t say.”

“You’re really not giving anything away tonight,” she laughs.

“You, on the other hand, are grilling me relentlessly.”

“It’s my job!” she protests lightly. “You said earlier that it’s a story that’s close to your heart, what did you mean by that?”

“Oh, uh –“ Even lets out a breathy laugh, his voice going a little thick. “Well, first of all, it’s a way for me to support and celebrate the equality act. And, uh, the story in itself – it’s actually about something my husband said to me when we were young. It ended up being a real comfort to me the years we were apart.”

Her stance goes a little softer at that. “So this is really a story to him?”

Even laughs. “All of my films have been to Isak, this will just be the first one where no one will be able to doubt it.”

She tilts her head. “Oh? Oh – speak of the devil, look who’s joining us!”

“Baby!” Even laughs, voice barely audible as he turns around to catch Isak around his middle as he walks past. “Halla.”

Isak grins up at him shortly before he turns his attention towards the woman. “Hello.”

“Hi,” she smiles back at him. “We were just talking about you.”

“Oh?”

“Good things only,” Even promises, but the look Isak gives him reveals he isn’t completely buying it.

“Sentimental things,” the interviewer corrects. “Your husband has been very stingy with the details of this film.”

“Right?” Isak exaggerates. “I haven’t gotten a single word about it out of him yet.”

She scrounges up her nose. “Are you telling me you don’t know what tonight entails, either?”

Isak shakes his head. “He’s refused to tell me. He’s just been bouncing around the house, seconds away from telling me because he’s so excited, and then he’ll snap his mouth shut and walk away so he doesn’t give in to the temptation. He won’t even give me a hint.”

“You’ll know if I give you a hint, though!” Even protests, but Isak’s focus doesn’t waver from the woman except to roll his eyes. “Besides, I promise you’ll like it.”

“Shut up,” Isak demands, not able to hide away the utterly smitten look on his face even as he manages to pull off a faux-serious expression. “I’ll love it,” he corrects him, much to Even’s amusement.

“I love you,” Even tells him. The golden band on his finger catches the light when he runs his fingers through Isak’s hair gently.

Isak doesn’t manage to hide his smile this time around.

OOOOO

[On a black background, two quotes are typed out:

“According to ‘M’ theory, ours is not the only universe. Instead, ‘M’ theory predicts that a great many universes were created out of nothing.” – Stephen Hawking

“As scientists, we track down all promising leads, and there’s reason to suspect that our universe may be one of many – a single bubble in a huge bubble bath of other universes.” – Brian Greene]

[The opening shot is a blue sky, just a hint of pink and yellow from the start of a sunset. In the background the ocean quietly lapping against the shore is just audible.]

“It’s a funny thing, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“The universe. Like, how big it is.”

“You mean the universe that’s infinite for an infinite amount of times?”

“Shut up,” he laughs. “I mean that it holds so many possibilities within itself, you know?”

“How so?”

“Like – for every possible action, there’s a universe out there where the opposite happened. Or one where just something different happened. Or one where it never got far enough to get to that point.”

“Parallel universes.”

“Exactly!”

“Why are you thinking about that?”

“Don’t you ever think about that?”

“Not really.”

“Oh.”

“What were you thinking about it for?”

“I was… I was thinking about the people I’m the closest to. I was thinking about you and me.”

[A handheld camera showing off an apartment; the bed is unmade, blue-striped bed sheets tousled and with indents in the pillows from two people having just left the bed. The curtains are a dark blue that manage to hold the sunlight out, but in another room the morning sun is coloring the kitchen in a warm, golden light, accentuating the mess of half-finished coffee cups, cereal bowls in the sink, and a blue hoodie slung over the back of a chair.]

“What have we got to do with parallel universes?”

“Just – how big everything is. Like, everything that can happen is going to happen. Not only going to, it is happening. And I just – I’d like to think that there are universes out there where everything could be different, but we’d still be the same, you know? Where I still feel the same as I do right now, here, with you.”

[The same apartment, but this time tiny details are different, changing the over-all appearance. The curtains in the bedroom are yellow, meaning the entire room is lit up. There are two glasses of orange juice instead of coffee. The hoodie is grey. The image flickers, the hoodie changes into a t-shirt with a printed picture of Jesus on the crucifix just visible. There are scrambled eggs instead of cereal. The kitchen chair is pushed neatly against the table. The curtains are black so the sunlight hasn’t disturbed their sleep, you can just make out two people still in bed.]

“So there’s a universe where we meet when we’re still in high school?”

[A boy is sitting in a school’s cafeteria with his friends, picking apart his lunch. When he looks up, he sees a boy sitting at the opposite end of the room. Their eyes meet. The boy hurries to look away, but the other boy keeps looking.

In a different place, two people bump into each other in the most cliché high school-setting possible; in front of the lockers. They both drop their books on the floor, and when they look up, their eyes meet and time seemingly stops. The next couple of shots are the same two people walking together, first in school, then clearly on their way home, then in the dark, walking away from a party. There are awkward, fumbled first kisses and shy looks and feeling like you’re flying higher than a bird and then crashing down with a hundred miles an hour until the two manage to find their way back to each other again.]

“Exactly! Or one where we’re at university.”

[A boy with thick-rimmed glasses is sitting on one of the rows, notebooks laid out fastidiously, one of them already opened so he can take notes. Then another boy crashes into the room, obviously seconds away from being late, a little out of breath. He throws himself onto the closest seat that isn’t occupied, the one next to the boy.

“I’m not late, am I?”

“Close. How can you be late, already? It’s the first day.”

The guy grins widely, leans in like he’s about to tell the boy a secret. “I guess you’ll have to get to know me to find out.”]

“Or one where we meet when we’re kids?”

[There’s a child, sitting on the curb of the playground, crying over a cut on their knee. It’s not bad, but it must look scary to a three-year-old, especially one who isn’t being comforted. At least not until another child walks past, sees the kid, stops and starts talking until the sniffling stops. The next couple of clips are artistically shot, with the sun creating lens flares and discoloring the pictures, giving off the warm, nostalgic feeling people get when thinking back on happy moments.]

“I like that one. That there’s a life where I don’t know what it’s like to be without you. That’s a nice thought.”

“Do I take good care of you in that one, do you think?”

“You take care of me in every universe, doofus.”

“In every single one?”

[All the different universes with the first meetings between two people.]

“Well – I suppose there must be a universe where we never meet.”

[Cross-shot of two pictures depicting very different locations, the first one set in a rural area, the other in the city. It switches to new contrasting locations, flying faster than the eye can make out anything other than how unalike they are to each other.]

“That’s the saddest one.”

“Nah.”

“You don’t think so?” the disbelief evident in his voice.

“No. The saddest one is the one where we do meet. We just don’t notice when it happens.”

[Following a group of people, all shot waist down. They’re walking down the street clearly messing around, when they pass by another group of people. Two hands slide by each other, an inch of space left between them. They keep walking, not even turning around.]

“That’s the saddest one,” he continues. “The one where we don’t even get the chance to become a ‘could’ve been’ because the universe decided to label us as an ‘almost’ instead.”

[Lots of ‘almost’s exists. Turning the corner at just the wrong time. Looking right first instead of left when crossing the street. Suddenly deciding to not try the new coffee shop anyway, not when the old one is closer and familiar.]

“Do you think… do you think there’s a universe where I don’t hurt you?”

[Screaming fights. Being forgetful about the other person and leaving them behind. A boy watching another boy kissing a girl as they slow dance at prom. A devastated look on a boy’s face as he’s told everything between them had been fake.]

“I mean… theoretically, yes. But it also means there’s a universe where I don’t hurt you. One where we don’t hurt each other.”

[Silently hurting. Introducing your childhood best friend to your new boyfriend. Leaving with no explanation.]

“But I do know one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“That there isn’t a universe out there –“

[Playful kisses. timid handholding. two boys smoking weed as they sit on a windowsill. Quiet moments in bed.]

“– where this –“

[Tickle fights. Screaming their hearts and lungs out at concerts. Desperate kisses like the world is about to end.]

“– where we –“

[Smitten looks that reveal how the other person is their entire world. Faces being lit up when they see each other. Their head resting on the other person’s shoulder as they fall asleep on the bus. Kissing underwater in a swimming pool.]

“– aren’t worth it.”

[Black screen. Even’s voice sounds in Norwegian whilst the white text is in English]

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t give you any of those universes. I’m sorry that we were ready for the universe before the universe was ready for us.”

[Nights at the bar with a row of empty shot glasses, another being poured already. Two different locations in the world, so far apart from each other. Stuffy meeting rooms. Lawyers handing over divorce papers only to receive absolutely devastated looks in response.]

“I’m not sorry that I met you.”

[The picture Even took of the flowers for Isak shows up, followed by a shot of the street where Even had kissed Isak for the first time. It’s taken during the night, the streetlamps giving off a warm, yellow light. Isak and Even have been animated in, the cartoonish-outline contrasting the background and drawing the eye towards them.]

“I’m not sorry that I fell in love with you.”

[A clip plays of Isak; young-looking and floofy haired, looking down, but his face is split into the widest smile possible and he looks happy as he shyly glances up at Even behind the camera.]

“I’m not sorry that I married you. That I got to love you.”

[Isak’s leaned back against Even who in turn is leaning up against the railing at the cabin, the sunset is coloring the both of them golden. Isak turns around so he can hug Even tightly.]

“I’m not sorry that we didn’t give up fighting when it would’ve been so much easier to let each other go.”

[A handheld camera filming a computer screen, showing the original article that first posted the rumor about a marriage certificate, and then later posting the certificate itself. An overhead shot of Isak and Even lying in bed, Even sleeping and Isak keeping an eye on him. Voiceover in Norwegian:

“Are you going to ask for a divorce after this? A real one this time?”

“No. I’m not going to do that. I don’t want to do that.”]

“I’m not sorry that I get to call you ‘home’.”

[It switches between pictures of a bed with blue-striped bed sheets, science textbooks with a camera balanced on top, clothes strewn messily across the floor, messy bed hair, and sparkling eyes when given a cup of tea. The sound of a door opening and closing is added in, Isak calling out in a voiceover as shoes tumbling onto the floor and a coat being removed scratches the audio, “Baby, er du hjemme?”]

“I’m not sorry that I get to love you.”

[Even bounds onto the bed, startling Isak who is lying on his stomach, sorting through his notes for class.

“Hva faen –“ Isak starts, but doesn’t get further before the hand Even isn’t using to hold the camera is on his side, digging in until Isak’s squirmed onto his back and Even can straddle him to keep him in place. “Why are you filming me?”

“I just need to film your reaction when I tell you something,” Even tells him, chortling at the suspicious look that immediately falls on Isak’s face.

“What.”

Even’s hand appears in frame again, cupping Isak’s cheek. “Jeg elsker deg.”

“Oh my god!” Isak laughs, batting Even’s hand away so he can hide his face behind his hands. It does little to nothing to cover up how brightly he’s smiling. “You absolute sap, you.”

He gives up on hiding away, instead pushing his hips up so Even tumbles onto his side on the bed. Isak leaning in to kiss him is just visible in the corner of the frame. “Turn the camera off, Ev.”

Even hums, the sound of lips smacking audible as the camera keeps rolling. He pulls back so he can film Isak again.

Isak, who isn’t even paying attention to the camera anymore, is instead clearly only seeing Even, looking impossibly soft as he does so. One hand moves up to smooth his thumb across Even’s jaw line.

“Jeg elsker deg også.”]

“I don’t care about the other universes. About whether or not the Even gets the Isak. I don’t care if there’s an Even who didn’t leave”

[The old apartment shot from inside the entrance to the building. A taxi is visible, the car door being shut audible before it drives off.]

“I care about you, about this Isak that I get to come home to, that I get to share my life with, that I get to love. This Isak, who loves me back, who wants to come home to me, who wants to share his life with me.”

[The scene shows one of the Movie Night-nights, the entire gang already set up in the living room, a spot left for Even on the couch next to Isak on the side that Eskild isn’t already occupying.

Isak is the one who sees him first, groaning exaggeratedly when he notices the camera. “Why?” he drags out.

Magnus looks around frantically to see what Isak is talking about. When his eyes land on Even they go unnaturally wide as he gasps. “Am I seriously being filmed by Even Bech Næsheim right now?”

“Shut up,” Isak moans, sinking deeper into the couch, but he’s laughing silently.

“It’s such an honor,” Magnus continues, reaching a hand out for Even to shake. “Seriously, man, I’m, like, your biggest fan.”

“Is this planned?” Mahdi asks.

“I’m leaving all of you,” Isak says when Even starts to enthusiastically shake Magnus’ hand, finally laughing out loud when Jonas hits him with one of the decorative pillows Eva had picked out.]

“I don’t care if the universe is ready or not for us anymore. If it is, that’s great. But if it isn’t –“

[Isak tilting his chin up stubbornly for Even to lean down and kiss him. Even smiling and talking excitedly as he tells Isak about an idea for a script, frowning when he notices Isak holding the camera before his face breaks out in the biggest smile possible and he pulls Isak into his arms. Lying in bed, Isak asleep on top of Even’s chest, Even leaning in to kiss his temple carefully as to not wake him up.]

“– then I’ll make it.”

[Three words appear against the black background, bold and a contrasting yellow.]

ALT ER LOVE

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Where the Crop Circles Grow ch.5

Summary: When things get out of hand at the Pines’ family farm, Ford asks an old college buddy to assist investigating anomalies and Stan hires a farmhand. Who knew asking for help would actually get you somewhere?

For @lemonfodrizzleart. Part of her Farmer AU and featuring her OC, Jackie Asante.

Ao3 link here.

ch.4 - ch.6

~~~~~~~~~~

Jackie was folding laundry on the porch to enjoy the nice weather. Soft, fluffy, warm towels made the farmhand feel proud of her work (the towels were kinda scratchy and stiff when she first came a month ago). Her eyes averted from her folding up ahead to her boss, who was chopping woods on an old tree stump.

His shirt was almost completely unbuttoned to help his sweaty body cool down. A golden chain just barely grazed his thick chest hair, showcased by the created V. His stance was strong and his arms tightened his muscles as he swung the axe down on a sorry piece of wood. Occasionally he had to bend over to place a new log on the tree stump, giving Jackie a very pleasant view through his jeans. After a few minutes of Stan’s show and of Jackie not getting anything done, her hands frozen on a towel in her lap, Stan stopped his work and turned away from the sun as he wiped his forehead dry of sparkling sweat; Jackie barely looked away in time and if it wasn’t for Stan’s eyesight adjusting to the lack of sunshine, he might have caught his admirer.

Fiddleford came out with a glass of sweet tea in his hand and breathed in the wonderful late-afternoon air. He noticed at once that something was slightly out of the ordinary, and one look at Jackie’s glossy eyes and Stan’s half-exposed body as he picked up the lumber told the Tennessian everything he needed to know. The second Stan entered the house to put the logs where they belonged, Fiddleford gently elbowed Jackie as he stood next to her rocking chair. “Well, kettle my corn, somebody’s in love.”

Jackie rolled her eyes and smiled smugly up at her friend. “Yeah, right. Stan’s just a cool guy. It’s not like I lie awake at night thinking about him.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Jackie laid on her back, staring up at the ceiling, tucked into her bed with one arm draped over her chest, and her eyes wide with energy. She could feel a rock being plunged into her stomach as it dawned on her that Fiddleford might have been right. “Uh, oh.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Stan was whittling a small piece of wood in his hands as he sat on the porch, rocking in his chair. The sounds of laughter made him glance up from his work and he smiled to see Jackie and Tate playing. It was a basic game of tag, but they were both laughing joyfully and Tate was grinning like it was the best day of his life. For a few minutes Jackie purposely went slow, but then she sped up, caught Tate in her arms, and plopped down on the ground to tickle his ribs. Tate squirmed and squealed as Jackie laughed alongside him, hers less force than the boy’s.

Stan smiled and watched them from the corner of his eye as he whistled a tiny tree; Tate seemed to enjoy the toy train he had made for him, so he was secretly working on tracks and trees and houses and people so the kid could build a village for the train to ride around. It was something entertaining for Stan to do in his free time and he knew it would make a good birthday gift or a present for the holidays. As he worked and watched Jackie play with Tate, his thoughts reverted back to his feelings for the farm-woman.

Was it wrong for him to be crazy for his employee? Probably, but who cares? They hardly had a boss-worker relationship; if anything it was a firm friendship that just came so easily it was like they had known each other for years. With Jackie, it was just so easy, but that didn’t mean it was predictable; Jackie was spontaneous, passionate, and different, everything Stan valued in a person. Not only was she a hard worker, but she was really smart, creative, the best cook he had ever met, and really really beautiful. Anyone would get a crush on her, so why should he? For the time, Stan was content that a woman as amazing as her would never have a crush on him, not in a million years, so with any luck his little crush on her will die and no one important will get their feelings hurt.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the middle of May Stan and Ford told Fiddleford and Jackie about a hoedown that took place at the end of May to mark the beginning of summer. It was hosted in a huge barn and everyone pitched in to help with the food and there was music and dancing and everyone had a great time; word on the street was that it even beat the Northwests’ annual fancy shindig. So the weak of the party Jackie was excused from work on the farm so she could spend more time in the kitchen, meaning Ford and Fiddleford had to pitch in and save their investigations on the unicorns for another time.

It wasn’t a fancy party, but people usually dressed up a little bit, almost like going to church. Ford went for his blue t-shirt with green flannel and clean jeans and he polished his black shoes that clicked on wood beautifully. Fiddleford went for a more casual army-green floral shirt, a favorite from back at Backupsmore, and he put Tate in a red short-sleeved button-up. Stan opted for clean jeans and a light-merlot button-up, but Jackie was perfectly happy to wear a plain white dress that went down to her knees and came with noodle straps. She decorated the outfits with black heels to match her curly hair, which she somehow managed to control without losing its breath-taking fullness.

Stan found himself staring for a creepy amount of time, but she was too busy trying to get her food together to notice. The Diablo was packed full with food so Stan and Jackie drove in that car while Ford, Fiddleford, and Tate rode in the newly repaired blue truck. The large barn sat a few yards from a huge lake and at the top of a hill, a smaller barn filled with hay to the side and a white fence establishing the boundaries of the property. Already the barn was busting with music and laughter and vehicles and even two horses stood outside the party. Stan and Ford helped Jackie with the food while Fiddleford held Tate’s hand and had his banjo over his shoulder, and they entered.

The newcomers awed at the hustle and bustle. On a stage a bass, an acoustic guitar, a cello, a harmonica, and some spoons were being played by some townsfolk. Many more were dancing in the wide open space care-free. Kids Tate’s age were holding hands and swinging, Toby Determined was doing a lonely tap-dance, that dweeb Durland was spinning a lady too fast and making her cross-eyed, and Ma and Pa from Dusk 2 Dawn were holding each other as they danced. Most people were doing a big group dance together, but some were over at the long tables filled with good food. 

Susan was stirring hot apple cider and spooning mugs full for people, Manly Dave had brought his family recipe of Cages Full of Meat, and there were platters and bowls filled with delicious ham, turkey, cobblers and pies of every berry and fruit that existed, green beans, collared greens, salad, macaroni salad, potato salad, sweet potatoes with marshmallows, fried okra, smoked ribs, smoked pork, boiled peanuts, jugs full of moonshine, and barrels full of taffy and candy. Jackie happily added her Lemon Meringue pie, grilled chicken, fried chicken, boiled potatoes, yeast rolls with cinnamon butter, cranberry sauce, spinach dip and crackers, and a huge pot filled with jambalaya made with Cajun sausage, onions, bell peppers, tomatoes, and rice. All that food could feed three New York Cities, let alone little Gravity Falls, but with all the dancing and activity going on the food was happily accepted and the night was off to a wonderful start.

Jackie happily chatted with Susan at the long tables while the men dispersed. Fiddleford was invited to play with the others on stage, Ford began to play chess with some of the old men in the back of the barn, and Stan happily took Tate out on the dancefloor and let him stand on his boots to lead.

The sun was soon gone but the night was lit up by not only the huge light fixtures in the barn, but the strings of lights on the walls, and rustic exposed lightbulbs at the door, and the little lights on the grass to highlight the walkway from the party to the rides home. Fireflies buzzed around as well; a few kids left the loud party to play among the bugs and let the flickering lights crawl into their outstretched hands.

As the moon got higher and higher into the sky, the part continued to be very enjoyable. While Tate was busy making quick friends with Tyler Cutebiker, Stan dragged his twin out on the dancefloor and made him dance. Fiddleford took a break from playing his banjo and somehow ended up dancing with Susan. Jackie happily danced alone by the tables and enjoyed the blissful music. As much fun as the party was, her energy was running out and she could do with some quiet. She decided to go outside and watch the kids play.

Out in the cool late-spring air Jackie breathed peacefully as she watched the children run around, but soon she wanted to be alone and explore her new surroundings. That smaller barn was a ways away, so she slipped into the shadows and ventured towards it. Jackie quietly slid the door open and smiled to find a single lantern hanging on the wall and the barn filled to the brim with blocks of hay. It smelled clean here and it was quiet and lovely, so Jackie made her way to a wall and sat on two blocks of hay, taking off her heels to rub her sore feet. No blisters, thank goodness, but standing and dancing for so long will make your feet ache.

In the silence and with nothing better to do, Jackie resumed her thought about Stan. Was it wrong for her to fall for her employer? Probably, but who cares? They hardly had a boss-worker relationship; if anything it was a firm friendship that just came so easily it was like they had known each other for years. Stan was just so easy to talk to, so comfortable to be around, but that didn’t mean he was predictable; Stan was spontaneous, passionate, and different, everything Jackie valued in a person. Not only was he a hard worker, but he was clever, considerate, a true-blue family man, and really really beautiful. Anyone would get a crush on Stanley Pines, so why should she? But Jackie could swallow that a man as amazing as him would never have a crush on her, not in a million years, so with any luck her little crush on him will die and no one important will get their feelings hurt.

The door opened slowly, still managing to make Jackie jump a little, but she smiled and relaxed at seeing Stan at the entrance.

He had been having a lot of fun at the party, but he had planned on dragging Jackie out to dance, having noticed that no one had danced with her (she must have danced with at least of one of handsome guys here and Stan just didn’t see it, there’s no way a girl that pretty had resorted to wall-hugging all night) and he planned to fix that, but he soon noticed that Jackie was nowhere to be found. Checking to make sure she didn’t get eaten by a mountain lion, Stan exited the big barn and watched the kids for a minute before guessing she was in the smaller barn away from the crowds and noise. He smiled when he saw he was correct and leaned against the doorway. “Hey, whatcha doin’ over here?”

Jackie shrugged casually. “Just needed some alone time.”

Stan nodded and drastically changed his plans to give her what she needed. He let his arm fall from the doorway and said, “Gotcha, okay, I’ll see you…”

“No,” Jackie said too quickly and felt herself go red with embarrassment. “I-I mean, I can be alone with you.” She quickly explained and then swallowed nervously. That didn’t make any sense, she wasn’t making any sense! But the way this guy made her feel didn’t make sense, either.

Stan saw her nervousness and smiled at it; the best dating advice Ma had ever given him was to never a date someone who wasn’t nervous around you; if they’re nervous that means they like you. He made a mental note to not put up too much of a brave front and then he entered the barn and closed the door behind him. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

Jackie smiled, not as nervous now, and watched as Stan plopped himself down on the hay-coated floor, resting an arm next to where Jackie sat. He popped his neck and yawned, comfortable and relaxed, one leg bent up and the other laying flat. He turned his head to look up at Jackie, resting his square jaw on his knuckles, and asked, “So whatcha thinkin’ about?”

Jackie leaned forward so her elbows her on her knees and one hand was just under her chin. “I was thinking how this has got to be one of the best parties I’ve ever been to.”

Stan snorted. “Really? Guess it ain’t so bad. I’ve never missed a single one. Great graduation celebration or a ‘welcome home’ event for college students. One year Ford n’ I snuck out n’ went over to the lake to swim, but Shermie caught us n’ tried to pull us out, but we dragged him in n’ we all got in trouble for it.” He chuckled.

Jackie giggled along with him and commented, “I’ve actually never been to a lake. I’ve visited a beach, but not a lake yet.”

“We’ll fix that.” Stan said. “The beach, though, huh? Always wanted to see one. Where else’ve you been?”

“Everywhere.” Jackie said. “I was a bit of a traveler before stopping here. Never been outside the country.”

“What was your favorite place?”

“New Orleans.” Jackie answered quickly. “They had the most delicious beignets and seafood and the jazz was beautiful, and the ocean was so beautiful. I really liked southern California, too, the beach was amazing and I made a lot of Hispanic friends there.”

“Any reason why you left?” Stan asked; with such good friends and great places, the farmer couldn’t help but wonder why didn’t she stay.

“Too busy and loud.” Jackie said. “I love the occasional crowds, but I wanted some place quieter and easier to find work, so that’s why I came up here.”

“Well, I’m glad you did.” Stan said earnestly, in such a deep, meaningful tone that it made Jackie’s face hot again and she looked away as she gently shook her head.

“You give me too much credit, Stan…”

“No, Jackie, I mean it.” Stan swallowed nervously, making his Adam’s apple bobble, and he went on with his eyes on the beautiful girl above him. “I’m not just butterin’ you up, I think you’re real pretty, n’ I mean it when I say you’re probably the best thing that ever happened to our place. Even without your killer cookin’ n’ extra help, I’m just really happy you’re around. I don’t know how I can make it up to you, but I’ll think of somethin’.” He had carefully worded his compliment so Jackie could take it as a friend making a friend feel good if that was all she wanted, but he had meant it as so much more and wanted it to be so much more, so it was all up to Jackie now.

She noticed the nervous look in his soft brown eyes and smiled. Was there a possibility, a teeny tiny possibility, that he liked her the same way she liked him. She could be dead wrong, she could lose everything she had worked for the last few weeks and everything she had grown to love. Goodbye, Dot. Goodbye, Tate. Goodbye Pines farm filled with some of the best people she had ever met. But she took a gamble, tried to ease her nerves as discreetly as possible, and she said quietly, “You could kiss me.”

Stan’s eyes grew to the size of dinner plates and his brown eyes sparkled adorably. Jackie bit her lip to keep from laughing at the look on his face, her heart relaxing and her nerves settling as she realized how much he wanted to kiss her. His grin was the last thing she saw before he stretched up and she leaned down and they met for a soft kiss.

The amount of sparks that flew only through lips touching was unbelievable. As a strong hand cupped Jackie’s cheek and a smaller hand landed on the back of Stan’s head, the kiss deepened and it only got better. Holy Moses, it was far better than anything Jackie could have imagined in her head, all those night daydreaming about this moment, and more, and it was better and full of more bliss than she thought it would be. She was putty at Stan’s touch, and as another arm wrapped around her waist and the kiss included it’s fair share of tongue, Jackie slid down from her little seat until she was sitting on the ground beside Stan.

Warm chuckles of pure joy leaked from their lips and for a while it was nothing more than hugs and kisses, but it was everything. Stan was blown away that such a beautiful woman wanted to hold him and kiss him, of all people, and he knew better than to question a good thing. His heart was roaring like a lion in his chest, his face was warm despite the goosebumps on his arms, and while he was beyond grateful for just a kiss he wondered if he was lucky enough for more.

They separated for air and Jackie rested her head on the cushion of Stan’s arm, his free hand on her knee. Stan’s cheeks and ears were rosy pink, his five o-clock shadow unable to hide how the girl in his arms made him feel. Jackie smiled at him, unable to believe she was so lucky, and put a hand over his heart to enjoy his heartbeat, but then she slowly unbuttoned his shirt a little to let his chest hair be showcased by a proud V. At the same time, Stan’s hand slowly went down her bent leg, closer and closer to her hip, pushing her white dress up. With a gleam in their eyes and one sure smirk, they both knew what they wanted.

(If you want smut, CLICK HERE! If you’re not comfortable with that, then keep reading.)

~~~~~~~~~~

There were still some stragglers at the party, mostly drunk men singing their hearts out, but Ford and Fiddleford were ready to go. Tate was asleep so Fiddleford gently tucked him in his car seat as Ford looked around for Jackie and Stan. It wasn’t a big deal to leave without them, they had brought two cars, but still. Curiosity had grasped his mind and he generally wondered where they were. Fiddleford cleared his throat and suggested, “Maybe we should go ahead home, Fordsie.”

“I suppose so,” Ford said casually and nodded in agreement. “But if they get arrested for trespassing, I’m not… SWEET LORD!” Ford put a six-fingered hand over his mouth to stop his screaming, but his other hand was pointing at the couple who had hoped they could emerge from the shadows undetected, but that clearly wasn’t going to work out.

They were covered in hay. Both Jackie’s long black hair and Stan’s brown mullet were frizzled and out of control, like someone had shaken their hair wildly. Or grabbed it tightly. Jackie’s white dress was missing, but she held Stan’s button up around herself tightly to preserve what little dignity she had left. Stan, shirtless, had a dopey grin on his face with hazy eyes, like he was sleepwalking. While Stan was oblivious to his twin’s scream, Jackie’s face was scarlet with embarrassment and she rubbed the back of her neck as she gritted her teeth.

Poor Ford was a mumbling mess. “B-B-B-But… you… you two… you… and you…”

Fiddleford patted his shoulder and instructed gently, “Stanford, get in the truck.”

“B-B-B-B-But…”

“I know, I know, just get in. Leave ‘em be.” Fiddleford guided his best friend into the car and even closed the door for him. While Ford buried his head in his hands to try to collect himself, Fiddleford gave the happy couple a thumbs up before entering his vehicle and heading home.

Jackie wanted to disappear and never reappear.

Stan, however, was far too busy repeating a single thought in his head to even register what was going on in front of him. “I’m gonna marry her.”

[gayenerd]

This is the interview with Adrienne that is teased in that Mankato punk blog I talked about awhile ago.

Green Day frontman's wife remembers Mankato

By Amanda Dyslin

The Free Press

July 01, 2009 04:38 pm

— Adrienne Nesser, living in Mankato in her early 20s, had a long-distance friendship and flirtation with a guy so interested in her, he and his band planned tours around Minnesota just so he could see her.

Green Day wasn’t famous at the time. In Adrienne’s own words, they were just another band she had seen a couple of times in the Cities.

They were both also seeing other people. But there was something pretty powerful that must have connected them over a distance of thousands of miles. There had to be. Otherwise, she never would have agreed to leave her home state of Minnesota to move to California to be with him.

Just weeks later, they were married July 2, 1994, Adrienne was pregnant with the couple’s first of two sons, and Green Day’s album “Dookie” became a household name. All of this seemed to happen over night.

Finding Adrienne and talking to her about all of this was a big part of our Campaign Green Day mission. (See accompanying story for background.) Today, we accomplish that goal as Adrienne talks to us about life in Mankato, including her favorite Pagliai’s pizza toppings, how quickly her life changed when she headed West, and also the big question we’ve been pursuing for weeks: Would Green Day ever come back to Mankato to play a show?

Free Press: Tell me a little bit about your college experience at Minnesota State University. Were you a studier? A partier? On the student senate?

Adrienne Armstrong: I was a transfer student to MSU. I was at the U of M for a few semesters, then Minneapolis Community College. I was dating my then boyfriend who lived in Mankato, so it seemed a good place to go to finish my degree.

I loved school, especially when I was in the more focused classes of my degree. And I was definitely a partier. I found it easy to balance both. I loved the What’s Up, and for the life of me can’t remember the name of the bar across from Pagliai’s that I absolutely loved. (Square Deal?)

I graduated in 1993, but I had turned in a paper after one of my classes ended, and the professor never posted the grade. I had to call the school to argue the fact. They finally sent my degree in 1996.

FP: Why sociology? What interested you about the subject and what career did you have in mind?

AA: I have always loved the dynamics of social groups, clicks and society classes. It’s what triggered my interest in social justice and being an activist. I really didn’t have any career in mind while going through college. Occasionally, I would think of getting a credential to teach, but it was always a fleeting idea.

FP: You seemed to have a ton of jobs while you were here. Your Mankato friends have listed Pier 1 Imports, the Piercing Pagonda, Pagliai’s and The Jungle among them. Am I missing any? Any favorites?

AA: I really only had a few jobs in Mankato. It was hard for me to find a job because I had dreadlocks and dressed kinda funky. So the first place that took a chance on me was The Jungle and the bowling alley. It was a trip. I really liked working there, and the bowlers warmed up to me.

I worked at Pagliai’s all through college, and that was super fun. I worked with lots of my friends and the pizza was awesome. I worked at Pier 1 after I graduated. I was a manager there. I loved that job. I was hired at the very beginning; we put the store together from the ground up. The people I worked with were fun, and I loved running the store. I remember unloading a truck full of merchandise with 70 below windchills. The whole town was shut down. Good times!

FP: Do you have any favorite moments in Mankato? Any night or event or time that really stands out for you when you think about your college years?

AA: My entire experience of living in Mankato was fantastic. I loved living there. It was a small town with such a heart. Camping in our friends T-PEE, the festivals in Sibley Park, tubing in the storm drains, biking, which seemed, at the time, the biggest hill to campus, and the really cool friends/people I hung out with.

FP: I read you met Billie Joe in 1990 at a show in Minneapolis. Had you heard his music before that show? How famous would you say Green Day was at the time?

AA: I met Green Day for the first time at a house party in Dinkytown. A friend of mine invited me to a party on the Fourth of July. So I went with my boyfriend at the time to check out the bands.

I saw a couple songs, then we left to watch fireworks. The next day they played The Varsity. I ended up going to that show, too. My friend, Erica, introduced me to the guys that day. I wouldn’t say they were famous.

I mean, I went to a lot of shows ... saw a lot of bands. They were just another band. This was the first time they played Minnesota.

FP: Was it difficult having a relationship long-distance when Billie Joe was on tour after you’d first met?

AA: Billie Joe and I were friends first. And never tried to be exclusive. I was in a dwindling relationship that was off and on. And I know he dated many other girls. We grew over time. After I graduated from college, I finalized the break-up with my longtime boyfriend and was single for almost a year. During that time, I saw Billie Joe a few times, but it wasn’t until I moved out to California that things solidified pretty quickly.

FP: I couldn’t get anyone to clear this up for me: Was it because of you that Green Day started coming to Mankato and playing shows? Or was Mankato a part of their early touring locations?

AA: Umm ... probably. : )

He booked a mini tour that started in Sioux Falls, S.D., and then came through Mankato, Minneapolis, to Beloit, Wis. So yes, to see me. Very Romantic ... .

FP: Talking to people around here now, it seems like the band was playing shows everywhere here in town: garages, basements and that show on a farm near St. Peter. Was it really like that? Or was it just a few shows that just sort of popped up when they happened to be here?

AA: Green Day always played anywhere, any time. So when they were in town as a band they would play garages, basements, street corners and even that farm on top of spools. Billie Joe came to Mankato a few times on his own for visits as well.

FP: Did you have any idea in the early days of your relationship that Green Day was going to hit the big time?

AA: I really didn’t think of it. I just knew that I loved the band and their music. They were so fun to watch live. ... But it wasn’t in my thoughts at all what their future held. I remember being with a friend in Minneapolis, and we were watching MTV, and their “Basket Case” video came on. It freaked us out. We were like “Oh My God, how crazy!! They are on TV!”

FP: A few people who knew you said your decision to move out West to marry Billie Joe happened quickly. It was like one minute you were here and then you were gone. Was that how you remember it, too? Were you scared?

AA: Billie Joe had asked me to move out to California and give us a try. I was Totally scared. But super excited. It was a new adventure, and I was ready. I had a big garage sale — sold as much as I could, including my favorite blue creepers, packed a mini U-Haul and drove out with my 15-year-old brother and my friend, Holly, who was already making the trip. I figured I’d give it the summer and see what happened.

FP: It seems as if shortly after you were married “Green Day” and “Dookie” became household names. What was that time like for you? Was it strange to suddenly be living the life of a celebrity? Is it still strange?

AA: I was out two weeks and Billie Joe asked me to marry him. It was crazy. But it was a crazy time for us — and I said yes. It was a whirlwind. I was pregnant, and his band was everywhere. It was completely overwhelming. We were just trying to navigate it all — it was a bumpy ride for sure. It took years for us to find our footing. ... But sometimes I think it was all those trials that made us stronger and brought us to where we are today.

FP: What’s your life like now?

AA: It feels pretty normal for me now. I am a mother of two amazing kids. So I am busy with school, sports and all their activities. And Billie Joe’s life keeps us busy. It’s never boring ... that’s for sure.

FP: What are your roles at Atomic Garden and Adeline Records? Does that keep you pretty busy?

AA: My friend and I are partners in Atomic Garden. She’s a very good friend who is amazing and patient. I work as much as I can when I am in town, and we do all the buying together. We have an incredible manager who does most of the day-to-day stuff. She allows us to live our lives and still have such a beautiful store. I don’t do anything with Adeline Records anymore. I worked the label for years when it first started. But I have moved on. : )

FP: Do you still keep in contact with anyone from the Mankato area?

AA: I keep in touch with a few people. But sadly lost touch with a lot of them.

FP: And now for the $65,000 question. What do you think our chances are of getting Green Day to come back to Mankato to play a show some time? Are small markets like ours pretty much out of the question at this point?

AA: I would love to imagine Green Day playing Mankato again. I don’t think it’s out of the question. They still play small clubs and stuff. They are still the same in that way — they will play anywhere. It’s more just the logistics of it all.

FP: How about you? Could we get you to come back some time? How about a big party catered by Pagliai’s?

AA: I would LOVE to get back to Mankato for a visit. So let’s keep in touch and make this happen! It’s been too long since I had a Pagliai’s pizza with onion, green olive and extra sauce. Cheryl Rueda made me the BEST pizzas!!!!!

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Photos

Adrienne Armstrong lives in California and co-owns Atomic Garden, an eco-friendly clothing store, with a friend.