#is that double black denim my dude

[bodybeyondstories]

Growth Notes - Sky's the Limit

Dwayne doesn't like house calls, but he will put away his therapist hat for a weekend to visit Sky, an old flame who's been through some big changes. Meeting his ex's new partner on the way, he realizes this syndrome may be having some weird knock-on effects.

Other stories in this series: Omar | Trevor

MaleTF // ass growth // dick growth // growth // size difference

---

The only other occupant of the nondescript gas station convenience store was a girl behind the counter with jet black hair pulled into a ponytail in the back of a trucker hat. She glanced at me with mild interest as I walked in, her gaze a halo of lavender-gold eyeshadow framed with expertly sharp wings, resting in my direction just long enough to hold space for one, and only one, question.

“This is the third to last stop of the 84 bus line, right? Near the mountain access road?”

“Probably…?” she offered, softening the blow of nonchalance by shifting the intonation at the last minute and following it up with a half smile that could possibly be read as encouraging.

“Cool, great, thanks,” I said, turning awkwardly to busy my eyes with something as hers settled back on the phone that lay flat on the counter.

I double checked the text from Arun earlier that day. They had indeed said to take the 84 bus line almost all the way to the end, out to the boonies where the loosely defined mountain roads start appearing and they had said to meet them at the Come Again convenience store with the half-lit neon sign. So here I was, my phone barely in service, adjusting my backpack every few minutes and looking at random knick knacks hoping I was in the right place. Next to the gag nametags (they did have a Dwayne, which I appreciated) were what looked like self-produced postcards and flipbooks of the local cryptid sightings, large shadowy figures out of focus and out of range in the forest. This was normal paraphernalia in spots like these, but they had become more common as more men had become afflicted with this ‘macro syndrome.’ And in my line of work, they actually provide useful data. Maybe there’s a higher proportion of cases in the area, maybe they’re just drawn here because a protected forest may provide safer havens and more privacy than more highly populated spots. In one, someone was silhouetted by the sunset, leaning against what looked like a juvenile oak, with a massive hand wrapped halfway around the trunk, naked except for the tattered remains of denim shorts hanging off their waist. In another, blurrier one taken at night, a figure is turned toward the camera with what might be surprise, their body language leaning more strongly towards flight than fight, their half crouch and wide hips registering a familiarity that I could almost place. Could it be…

“Dwayne!” I was snapped back to reality by a jarring slap against my shoulder, throwing me off balance and almost sending me toppling into the display. “Oh, I’m so sorry, dude. Forget my own strength sometimes,” the figure continued with a chuckle.

The voice I recognized, and as I got my bearings I could confirm that it was indeed Arun’s beaming smile and signature thick mustache over pouty, full lips. I had met them a couple times but mainly knew them through social media. They were the partner of my ex boyfriend, Sky, and they were picking me up to take me deeper into the mountains to the cabin they shared. For months, Sky had been trying to convince me to come up for a weekend getaway out of town, and I had finally relented, figuring I could call it a writing retreat and maybe get some work done. Worried I would get lost on my own, Arun was to be my chauffeur from the very fringe of town to the house somewhere in the woods, and now here they were, in the flesh. Golden yellow beanie matched by glittery gold eyeliner, contrasting with a bulky work jacket and noticeably oversized pants. It didn’t seem Arun’s style from what I remembered, but they were in the mountains now, and I guessed they had to look the part. They also seemed much wider than the figure that I had maintained in my mind’s eye, enveloping me in a big bear hug that threatened to lift me off the ground.

“So good to see you,” they said. “And sorry for being late, my supply runs always take longer than I expect and I was counting on the bus being delayed per usual. Hope you weren’t waiting too long.”

“Nah, he just got here,” said the attendant with renewed interest. “We’ve been chattin’ it up. How’s my dearest Sky?”

“A handful, as always,” said Arun with a friendly nudge into my side, one I was ready for this time. “I see you’ve met Lacy,” they said to me. “Our next door neighbor.”

“By next door they mean like five miles,” Lacy said to me. “By the way, thanks again for the help with our roof. Sasha is making Sky one of her famous sweet potato pies. Finished the big brick oven just to scale it up.”

“Oh he loves those, he’ll be so happy,” said Arun, clapping his hands together in delight.

“The roof? Are you and Sky into contracting these days?” I offered, trying to ingratiate myself into the conversation. 

“Not exactly,” said Arun. “Sasha has all the know how, but Sky is…pretty useful for big projects.”

“Both of you are, you’re a dream team! You should go into business.”

“Hmmm, we’ll see,” said Arun with a nervous laugh. “Still dealing with a lot of adjustments on the property.” 

—

Once Lacy and Arun had eventually finished shooting the shit, Arun ushered me out of the convenience store and into a pickup truck parked out front. It looked only several years old, with a decent amount of rust around the edges and mud sprayed along the side, albeit with some newer looking reinforcements around the body. “You should see the chassis,” Arun mentioned. “Got it reinforced by a guy who works with monster trucks, the suspension on this thing is phenomenal.”

It was another hour of driving before we would reach the cabin, for a while on the county road that the bus dropped me off on, then some less than well maintained backroads through the woods. It was scenic to say the least, as we climbed slowly up into the foothills, late afternoon sun lighting up the autumn-toned valley in the distance and casting auspicious shadows over some small, sleepy town. The trees had reached that point where they painted waves of reds, oranges, and golds across the landscape and had just started to let go of their leaves as if cut neatly by the chill that sharpened the air. I had regretted putting this trip off for so long, but it looked like I had accidentally picked the right time in the season to pop in. On top of that, Arun was an eager conversationalist, filling the space between us with the very prominent, and very endearing, lisp that ran under his soft voice.

“Sorry if I’m talking your ear off,” they said, their eyes scanning the winding curves ahead of us. “It’s just we never get visitors out here. And Sky is such a homebody, he’s always so nervous about leaving the property or venturing out any farther than Lacy and Sasha’s. I’m hoping to drag him out somewhere while the weather’s still nice. Need to get the truck upgraded again before that. Always adjusting for that l’il dude,” they laughed. “But in the meantime, we have you!” They patted my leg in appreciation, smothering my thigh. I couldn’t help but notice their hands were huge. While the left was steering, the right was nimbly working the gear shift, but I didn’t think they could both fit together on the wheel, which looked dwarfed by just a few fingers. I didn’t remember noticing that in the past, but I had only met them in passing a few times.

“So it seems like you two are doing pretty well,” I said. “Not that I was concerned or anything, it’s just I work with a lot of folks who have Sky’s condition and it can really strain relationships.”

“Well that’s one way to put it,” said Arun, their eyes lilting briefly among the clouds, “but yeah, we’re doing great! We’re really making it work, adjusting to his needs, growing through it all. Pun intended.” Their bright smile in my direction.

Not that I was concerned about how my ex was doing for any nefarious reasons. I was genuinely happy to see things going so well with Arun. When Sky and I had ended things years ago, it had been amicable. I was drowning in grad school and he was trying to get his art career off the ground, and we just couldn’t find a way to fit the pieces together. We decided to take a ‘break’ that ended up lasting indefinitely, but we kept in touch. Of course I missed him, I still miss him. When things were going well, it was like sparks flying, and when they weren’t…they weren’t. When Arun came into the picture, it seemed like they provided the grounding force in Sky’s life that he really needed, and I was happy to see it. So when Sky first texted me about his diagnosis, I immediately began to worry about things potentially falling apart.

I try to be careful around the ethics of providing any sort of unofficial counseling, especially for a condition that so little is still known about, but I cared about him, so of course I talked through the changes with him, what to expect, connections to resources and support groups. I also just enjoyed having an excuse to reconnect. We had drifted apart for years and I got to become reacquainted with the life he had built. And like always, some things have a knack for staying the same.

“You know how much he enjoyed being a l’il guy,” Arun reminisced.

“Yeah, he was always really good at being 5’6”.”

“So good at being 5’6”!” We both laughed. “And I mean he’s still a l’il guy. He’s my l’il guy. Just…in some ways and not others.”

I had known some of the highlights of Sky’s growth based on our previous conversations, but Arun used our time together to fill me in on their more in depth story.

“There was kind of the predictable denial phase,” they said. “Sky kept downplaying things or mentioning how his posture was really improving through yoga or he was just gaining some weight, but I was like no, you’re definitely bigger. Like all around. This one time we were out with some friends singing karaoke and the seat of his pants just blew out right there on stage. And by then none of his clothes reached down near his ankles anymore so it was hard to keep denying it. He was pretty embarrassed about it.”

“Did he finish the–”

“Of course he finished the song,” Arun sighed with an exasperated roll of their eyes.

Sky had reached out to me shortly after being diagnosed, when, according to him, he suddenly found himself rising slightly above Arun’s six foot frame. Judging by the text conversations between me and Sky, Arun seemed to think it was cool but their partner was acutely annoyed. 

“For a while it was neat because we could kinda split a wardrobe,” Arun said. “But Sky’s not a fan of my fashion sense. He kept wanting to adjust things or buy me things that were actually just for him. Then eventually, well…he was starting to stretch out even my roomier stuff. So we start getting creative, adjusting things, sewing new pieces. There are some great resources out there for how to size up your wardrobe. But also, after a while, he just wasn’t really going out as much. I think our friends were a little weird about it, you must know how people can get freaked out, but he didn’t want to address it directly. Just poured himself deeper into work.”

“Yeah, I remember him mentioning that,” I said. “Focusing more on his studio work.”

“Mmhm! Well eventually we had to move the studio into my place, since his old apartment was kind of a hovel. Not that I was complaining. It was getting past time for us to at least experiment with cohabitation. We were practically already there. And I had someone to clean the tops of the shelves. And the door frames. And the air vents…”

“I remember feeling too cozy in Sky’s old place,” I laughed. “But when did you move out here? I haven’t heard much from him in a while, he kind of disappeared.”

“Hmm, maybe after the third or fourth renovation? Sometimes he would kind of get…stuck moving around the house, and got pretty self-conscious about it. In the city, you only have so much room to make room, ya know, and I think he started feeling pretty cramped. One time the door frame caught around his hips and I had to shove him through. But then it just crumbled around him. Plaster everywhere, it was a whole thing.”

“...Huh.”

“I thought it was hilarious but he seemed pretty upset about. Which I get. I was planning on overhauling that entire part of the house anyways, but we figured we could officially move in together somewhere new. And get some space from all the hustle and bustle and attention. I make enough to support us and I can work from anywhere, so we were flexible, and my former boss was trying to get rid of this property out in the middle of nowhere. It was fate!”

After winding along some side road of a side road, we rolled onto a patch of gravel that looked like it served as a makeshift parking lot, pulling up next to a shiny new 4x4 utility vehicle. The cabin was on the other side of a clearing, and turned out to be much more than the glorified shack that I had pictured in my head. Arun hadn’t mentioned much about what they do for work, beyond the fact that it’s some sort of cushy consulting gig that lets them work from the comfort of what looked to be a two-story glamping experience that apparently they could afford. It was a picturesque, stately log cabin that looked like it was designed to catch the soft light of the setting sun, partially covered in vines and partially under construction. What looked to be the newest addition was a big sliding barn door along the side that ran most of the way to the roof, capped by a small balcony with a handful of houseplants and late season herbs.

I hopped out of the truck, stretching my arms over my head to elicit some satisfying pops from my back and shoulders, taking in my surroundings. The ground was a carpet of partially decomposed leaf litter and humus, a colorful expanse marked by strangely shaped depressions spaced evenly across the scene.

Arun had taken off his jacket and begun to unload the storage totes, crates, and bags full of stuff, as well as what looked like some carpentry and construction materials, that over-filled the truck bed. With this haul, one would think we were preparing for societal collapse and had to hunker down until the summer months. I was impressed by how effortlessly they seemed to be throwing things around, balancing a stack of crates in one hand as they hoisted some two by fours in the other. But I was blown away by the image of Arun in a tank top. They were a wall of muscle across their chest and back, pecs, traps, and lats bunching and flexing visibly as they moved. They looked like a career bodybuilder, exploding with striated, pumped musculature, the straps of their tank top holding on for dear life across the shelf of pecs. But attached to their boulder shoulders was what confirmed my initial suspicions: their arms were massive. Not just a crescendo of muscularity like the rest of their body, but disproportionately extensive. In the few times we had met, I didn’t remember them looking like they had the strength and wingspan to lift their truck and start benching it like a toy.

“Like I said, we’re always adjusting, growing through it all,” said Arun, acknowledging the fact that I was dumb staring. “Can you grab this one?” they asked, pushing a crate towards me. “I think it’s just produce, shouldn’t be too heavy.” 

I was only mildly offended as I lugged my single crate full of wholesale groceries, watching their wide lats and massive traps hold several times any weight that I could ever hope to move, as they half-walked, half-waddled towards the cabin, dropping off the first load near a cellar entrance. On the way, we passed by a spiral staircase in the middle of the clearing that led to seemingly nowhere. Just a wooden platform with some plain railings about twenty feet off the ground. We got everything unloaded after one more trip, not that I was all that much help, but Arun still showed their appreciation with a hefty pat on the back. Thankfully, they remembered to hold back this time and not send me careening into the side of the house.

“Hey, babe!” Arun called, using their dinner plate sized hands as a makeshift megaphone. “I’m back. Lacy sends her love.” They moved toward the wooden structure, muttering “He’s probably taking a nap” as they lumbered up the steps. 

Not knowing what else to do, I figured I might as well start moseying up with Arun, since even though they looked like they were going nowhere, they seemed like they knew where they were going. But I was caught off guard by the slight drop of my foot into another one of those weird depressions in the leaf litter. I studied it again for a few seconds, the shape of it right on the tip of my tongue, brought forward in my mind by the sound of leaves and twigs crunching en masse, the light periodic thump against the ground getting closer and closer behind me. It was like a really, really big…footprint.

“Finally,” bellowed a familiar voice. “You’re home.”

I turned, with disbelief and intense recognition, to see Sky coming around the corner of the cabin, rubbing sleep out of his eye and stretching his arms wide with a deep, satisfying yawn, letting one hand casually graze the vines training off the balcony as he made his way over to Arun.

My eyes went through the checklist of my usual mental image of Sky. His hair was an undercut with a messy bun on top and dyed its usual lavender, though the roots had really grown out. His nails were painted a charcoal gray, fiddling with the straps of a tight fitting tank top cropped right below his nipples. The curves of his hips swished back and forth with all too familiar gait that said he was excited but didn’t want to reveal that too strongly, under a short skirt that looked to be made of large pieces of fabric sewn together with some skill, elastic run through for a waistband. It was just what I expected to see from Sky chilling out in some cabin in the woods. I just hadn’t been planning on him being almost as tall as the cabin itself.

Suddenly the platform, with Arun waiting patiently for their beau, made a lot more sense. Sky crossed the space between them with a handful of steps, walking up to the platform where Arun was just above eye level. They leaned down to place their huge hands on either side of Sky’s face, giving him a series of tender kisses wherever they could reach.

“Hey, bug. You get into trouble without me?” Arun asked. 

Sky nuzzled his face into Arun’s slabs of pectoral muscle, but with the size difference it looked like him shoving his large head against Arun’s entire torso. “I really missed you. You know I get nervous without you. It can be scary out here alone. And also…” he bit his lip and tightened his grip on the railing, threatening to crush the wood in his hands without even trying, before Arun shot him a stern look that said that accident had already occurred in the past. “And also,” Sky continued, “I need that–”

“I know, I know,” Arun cooed, holding Sky’s head against their chest with those massive arms. “But look, we have a guest!” He swept a hand towards me, watching this surreal dynamic from the ground.

“Oh! Dwayne, it’s so good to see you,” exclaimed Sky, realizing, as he stepped closer to me, that I was right at the height of his prodigious package tenuously wrapped in what looked like some sort of makeshift jockstrap. His cheeks blushed as he tried to cover his manhood and still failed with both hands. I remember him being decently hung but it seemed like his junk really took off faster than the rest of him. “Sorry, it’s usually just me and Arun,” he said, crouching down for an awkward hug. Quickly realizing his chest was too broad to even attempt, I settled on wrapping my arms around his neck, my face brushing against the familiar expanse of warm stubble along his cheek. He smelled just like I remembered. Instead of breaking the embrace, I felt the ground leave my feet and with a whoosh of air and suddenly I was up on the platform with Arun before I fully realized what had happened.

“Sometimes it’s easier to talk this way,” said Arun, noticing my slight disorientation, “but you gotta warn people dude, remember?”

In my line of work, I felt like I had seen it all, but it was immediately obvious that Sky was one of the more extreme cases, which explained the inconsistent behavior and strange disappearance months ago. In the event that someone grows past a certain threshold, they’re deemed a significant risk to civil society, whether through infrastructural damage or social disruption, and some health agency comes and picks them up for ‘further treatment’, though it’s never been clear what that means. We’re technically supposed to report the risk of this happening, but I’m not a snitch. And besides, sometimes things get too hot and they take an extended vacation or just…disappear into the woods.

I’d known Sky had the syndrome since he was first diagnosed, and of course we’d spoken about his developments over time, but it was still surreal standing on that platform and getting a good look at him in the flesh. He was still the same, shy, anxious twink but it was like someone clicked the Scale function and started scrolling up. He had the exact same mannerisms as we caught up about life, just magnified, leaning his elbows on the platform and resting his chin in his palms as he gazed intently at me with those big, deep brown, thoughtful pools of his eyes. Things hadn’t worked out between us, but it had been an amicable split, and there was still some mutual attraction there. This was complicated by the realization that, like his dick, his perky bubble butt that I used to be obsessed with had ballooned cartoonishly with his growing body, two planets defying gravity and threatening to take out whoever’s in the path of the swish of his hips. As he bent down to pick up our things and bring them in the cabin, I could have passed out into Arun’s strong embrace right then and there.

Arun worked their magic with a grill and a camp stove, whipping up a feast in the waning hours of daylight. “I was thinking ramen!” they exclaimed, as if they weren’t already stirring the noodles around what could only be described as a cauldron. Sky sat cross legged with an entire platter spread across a tabletop in his lap, practically inhaling a meal that could’ve fed a family of five.

“It’s kind of hard for me to cook,” he said, with an apologetic squint in his eyes. “But we’re working on some bigger equipment, right?”

“One project of many,” said Arun, with sage-like grace. “But I like taking care of you,” they said, with a loving pat to Sky’s round buns covering the ground. I wondered how much of Arun’s day to day just consisted of keeping Sky content, in more ways than one. But they seemed genuinely happy keeping their partner satisfied, leaning against one expansive hip as they ate from their own plate.

As dusk progressed to night, we hung out by the fire. Sky laid on his side with his massive head on Arun’s lap, hips forming a small hill in the darkness. He gave the appearance of trying to cuddle up as close as possible to his partner, even though they were comically mismatched for the task. Nonetheless, Arun gave lazy caresses along Sky’s ears and cheeks, interspersed with a kiss here and there.

“When I was in town, I passed by that new club, Bamboo,” said Arun. “Have you been?”

“Ugh I don’t get out anymore,” I said. “But I heard they have sufficiently messy circuit parties.”

“Sufficiently messy is our thing, we should go sometime!”

“You remember what happened last time,” said Sky, stifling a yawn.

“Yeah, yeah, but anything is possible with some good ol’ fashioned communication and planning,” said Arun, showing an impressive dedication to steadfast optimism. “But maybe somewhere less crowded. Like the beach?”

“Hmm,” he perked up. “Maybe,” earning an approving peck from his partner.

—

The interior of the cabin had been majorly renovated to remove most of the second floor, leaving a single multi use sitting room + office space + bedroom in a cozy loft with a private balcony. This weekend, it was a guest room for yours truly, though according to Arun I was their first guest in this place. “First of many,” they hoped. It overlooked the open space of the rest of the house, which was dominated by an expansive bed covered in a sea of sheets, blankets, and quilts. Sky, who apparently still insisted on being little spoon, looked adorable curled up against Arun, completely dwarfing him except for those huge arms wrapped snugly around his chest.

I fell asleep thinking about the beach. Sky and I had loved taking trips there when we were together. He always seemed at peace with the lapping of the waves, toes dug into the warm sand, salt flecked wind coming off the water. I just loved seeing his bubble butt in a wet speedo. And of course, seeing him happy.

I dreamt of waking up on a lazy afternoon during one of our beach days, my sun kissed skin touching an open book whose words I couldn’t make out. I turned to my left, expecting to see Sky but only seeing an empty towel. Over here, said his disembodied voice, but my head on a swivel, I couldn’t seem to find him. No, over here, again. Looking out to the sea, I could just discern his figure out in the water, walking slowly in toward the shore. The sun hanging low in the sky, his silhouette only gradually seemed to be getting closer, but did seem to be growing much, much bigger. As his body emerged from the water and I could make out more of his features, I saw that he was naked, pendulous dick swinging down towards his knees, the globes of his ass eclipsing the Sun as it fell slowly to the horizon and he rose higher and higher in the sky. As he reached the shore, I could feel his foot falls reverberating across the beach. I missed you, he bellowed, taking up my entire field of vision, one gargantuan hand reaching down and–

I woke in the early morning, coming back to reality with the aftershocks of the dream still bouncing around my head. Strangely, I could still feel the reverberation of the foot falls on the beach, realizing it was something along the outside wall. I ignored it for a bit, hoping to catch some more sleep, before an especially strong vibration shook the bed.

“Ooo, be careful. I don’t want to wake Dwayne,” I heard Sky outside, trying to whisper.

Bleary eyed, I rolled out of bed, stumbling to the balcony. Looking down, Sky was crouched on all fours, bracing himself against the wall with one hand. He was naked, his massive bubble butt arched behind him as he rocked slowly back and forth. My half-asleep mind thought he was just doing stretches, but I caught myself before announcing my presence and reassuring him that I was already awake. His soft moans sounded unmistakably familiar, the exact sound he used to make when I would…oh.

Arun’s head was completely enveloped in Sky’s ass cheeks as, I now assumed, they were eating him out for breakfast. I could only see their ripped torso and muscle butt, also totally nude, coordinating their entire body for an olympic size rim job. Their arms were covered in a sheen of sweat as their hands gripped the underside of each cheek, sinking into Sky’s jiggly booty, and occasionally giving him an energetic slap (full strength this time).

“Are you ready?” Sky whispered, then an unintelligible, muffled response from Arun deep in his cheeks.

I was about to tip toe back inside to give them some privacy when I noticed what Sky was waiting on. I don’t think I had fully registered the appendage attached to Arun’s crotch because I didn’t know what to make of it, but I quickly realized why they had worn such baggy pants yesterday. Their dick looked like it could rival Sky’s leaking monster oozing a puddle of precum on the ground. As I watched, it had progressed past the semi hard log resting against Arun’s shins, appearing to inflate as it grew and grew, crawling along the ground before, miraculously, lifting itself into the air several feet in front of Arun.

“Almost there,” said Arun, after pulling their head out of Sky’s cheeks, taking thirsty gulps of air. They started to take deep, intentional breaths, their face contorting in concentration as their monster cock reached full hardness, pulsing and twitching against Sky’s taint. “You ready?” they asked, waddling backwards to position their heavy dick at Sky’s waiting hole.

“Please, it’s been so long,” said Sky.

“It’s been like two days,” chuckled Arun, before plunging their unbelievable tool into their partner, eliciting a deep moan of pleasure from Sky. If they had had any more concern about waking their guest, it was long gone, lost in the grunts and groans of what sounded like mind blowing wake up sex. Arun settled into a rhythm of powerful thrusts, using their monstrously long arms to move Sky up and down their pole, Sky moving in tandem as he rocked back and forth on his partner’s dick. Sky’s own massive member slapped against the bottom of his sternum with a wet thwack as his beach ball sized nuts distended toward the ground. He settled into an even deeper arch as Arun apparently hit the spot, both of them building toward monumental orgasm. As Sky painted the wall with what must have been gallons of cum, Arun seemed to do the same to his insides, jizz leaking out of Sky’s hole as Arun continued pumping in orgasmic bliss.

Sky cooed as Arun slowly pulled out, taking small steps back in order to reveal foot after foot of unimaginable dick to the morning air. I was still having trouble mentally processing the image. Sky having become a literal giant I think I had successfully wrapped my head around, that wasn’t my first rodeo, but for some reason my brain rejected the unreality of what looked like several feet of schlong extending from Arun’s crotch. Sky shivered as Arun’s massive head popped out of his hole, Arun’s dick audibly slamming against the ground as they leaned back in to rest their head on Sky’s gargantuan booty, breathing heavy with exhaustion. Sky leaned his head back with a final post-coital aftershock of pleasure, sighing deeply into the morning mist and letting his eyes dance in the swirls and eddies, before landing on me, frozen in rapt fascination.

“Oh! Uh. G’morning,” he said, cheeks red as the sunrise.

[ashtrayfloors]

My Ancestral Homeland, Southeastern Wisconsin

Once upon a January night, I drank all the whiskey in Kenosha and almost punched three dudes.

The evening began with me donning babe-layers, black denim jacket layered in patches (Punk’s Not Dead, We Just Smell That Way) over hoodie over t-shirt, tight pants, boots; the weather was cold as shit but I wasn’t gonna wear a heavy winter coat, cos you can’t dance in a heavy winter coat. Then a slick of red lipstick, and off I went. South down Highway 32 to Kenowhere, snow falling fast from the sky and the wind blowing it across the road in swirls, me shouting ragged-voiced along with Naked Raygun: what poor gods we do make. I grabbed Beagan, and we headed to Hattrix. Hattrix is one of the focal points of the punk scene in Kenosha; it has been for years, even back when it was called The Cavern. I’d never been there before, despite the fact that I’ve been going to punk shows in Kenosha for half my life.

Hattrix is still sorta like a cave, with walls made to look like red rock, and it was chilly, damp, voices echoed and bounced through the near-empty bar. Not many people showed up, the weather was bitter-wind and snow, but there were some of us true believers there. Punx from colder climes are way more hardcore than our cousins from warmer lands, cos we have to brave polar vortexes and snow-covered streets to go out to the show. The crowd was small, but most of the people there were rad as fuck. Most of the people there, I wanted to hug or high-five - not counting those three dudes I almost punched. I got my first drink, doublewhiskeycoke (with ice, sorry), and the bartender was an old friend of mine, so he poured the double more like a triple. First drink all sweaty in my hand, a few sips in, I was feeling good, and shitty dude number one walked up to us. He squeezed Beagan’s breasts by way of greeting. He’s someone we’ve both known for years; he’s a gay guy and he thinks it’s okay to grope women and people he perceives as women because when he does it, it’s not ‘sexual.’ Unwanted touching is assault, dude, whether you mean it in a sexual way or not; I’ve tried to tell him that and he’s never listened, and I was not gonna put up with it that night. You grope my best friend and I’ll fucking drop you. Beagan grimace-smiled and backed away, someone else he knew entered the bar, and he walked away to talk to them before I had the opportunity to break his nose. I sipped some whiskey’n’coke, said ‘hey’ to some familiar faces, was about to go watch the first musician, then some punk rock fuckboy spotted my Against Me! button and made a transmisogynistic comment about Laura Jane Grace, and yeah, I wanted to break his nose, too, but instead, I said: “You’re just jealous cos she’s into girls, and you know you could never get a woman as hot or talented as she is, cis or trans.” I hadn’t even been there an hour, hell, I wasn’t even drunk yet, and I’d already wanted to fight twice, ugh. Bartender, gimme another triple-double, I’m gonna go listen to the music.

On the stage stood a solo kid from Chicago, with the ubiquitous midwest punk look: silly hairdo (half-shaved, floppy, mint green) half-hidden under a black Carhartt stocking cap, plaid flannel shirt, dirty black jeans, scuffed black steel-toe boots. They were super cute, and though I only caught the last few songs of their set, I loved the music: stripped-down, plugged-in yet kinda folky-punk, Billy Bragg-style; raw and open-hearted. I’ve become disillusioned with folkpunk as A Thing, but when I first heard folkpunk I said it was more punk than straight-up punk and I still have a deep love for us solo punx (cos I’m one of ‘em): when we get up there on stage, whether we play electric or acoustic, whether we play guitar or accordion or a fucking pickle-tub drum, it’s just us and our instruments and our voices and our hearts that we’ve made into jackets and if we fuck up everyone hears it cos we don’t have a band to back us up or distract from us and we are so vulnerable and so brave and we do it because we have to, we so need to play music that we’ll do it even without a band.

Between bands, another drink, I started feeling the whiskey and it was good, good to be whiskey-drunk, fuel and grease loosening my limbs. Going outside to smoke, collars up against the wind and hands cupped around flickering flames. Inside, talking to old familiars and new faces. I talked with the solo mint-haired punk, told them I liked their music; we talked about Chicago, turned out they live in one of the neighborhoods I used to live in. Then there was the third dude who came close to having my fist in his face - another guy I’ve known forever. He’s a decent dude when he’s sober, but when he’s fucked up he gets stupid, and that night he was drunk and on some kind of pill-high; he tried to hit on both me and Beagan and didn’t back off even when we told him we weren’t interested, and I was getting annoyed. He was saved from my wrath cos he got distracted by another old friend of ours, and he stumbled away.

The second band, I couldn’t get into. The frontman was trying so hard to be a funny, cool rockstar, and the music wasn’t my bag, so I concentrated on drinking. More rounds of drinks, rounds and round and round, more cigarettes. Then Republicans on Welfare. They were great, reminiscent of all my old favorite Kenocore bands but not totally derivative. Good, raging hardcore with a side of garage-y punk. I danced up front for most of their set, and the pit (such as it was, there were too few people for it to truly be a pit) was mostly made up of girls. A couple dudes bounced in and out, but most of the time it was us girls slamming, skanking, pogoing.  I’d run to where Beagan sat, have a sip of my drink, run back up, dance, fist in the air. I picked up the words to choruses on the fly and shouted along. Toward the end of their set, they did a blistering cover of “Blank Generation” and then I really shouted along. I love anytime a band covers that song; it was written, what, like 40 years ago and is forever the perfect anthem for anyone disaffected. I was sayin’ “let me outta here” before I was even born… It’s such a gamble when you get a face. Everything was great, the gals in the pit were so welcoming, though none of them knew me. “I love your jacket,” they said, or, “your hair kicks ass,” and we threw our arms around each other and did high-kicks like some kind of punk rock chorus line. But then, this one girl who’d been standing in the back came up near the stage to take some pictures, and she started giving me death glares. She looked at me like she thought I was trying to get with one of the band members, like she thought I had my eye on the same fella she did. I wanted to reassure her that wasn’t the case, that I was there to sing, to slam, to sweat the winter blues away. I wanted to say: “Honey, we can both do so much better than any of these boys. Let’s forget them, join forces, and smash the patriarchy.” I couldn’t shout all that over the noise from the PA, so I smiled at her, hoping that would convey my message, but that made her glare harder. It bummed me out, so, for the last couple songs of the Repubs’ set, I returned to Beagan and my booze.

When the music ended, we stayed on a while longer, drank more, stood outside smoking more cigarettes. I was drunk enough by that point that the biting wind didn’t faze me at all. I talked with this cute punk kid (mussed-up hair, striped shirt, Army-issue jacket covered in patches). He flirted with me, all: “I haven’t seen you around here before.” “Well,” I said, “I’ve never been to this bar before, but I’ve been coming to punk shows in Kenosha since 1998.” He said: “Uh, I wasn’t going to punk shows back then. I was eight.” We talked about music; I scoped the patches on his jacket and nodded at the bands I know and like. I was curious about his backpatch: “Who’s that one for?” -“Mouth Sewn Shut.” I didn’t know who that was, he told me it was the singer from Toxic Narcotic, I got stoked cos I used to love Toxic Narcotic and I didn’t even know he had a more recent band. We talked about where we were from, where we’d lived. I said I was born in Lansing, Michigan, and he said: “Oh, the Crucifucks are from Lansing. Did you ever see them back then?” -“Dude, how old do you think I am? I know I’m older than you are, but fuck. The Crucifucks broke up when I was, like, six!” He blushed and said: “I didn’t mean you were old, I’m sorry, I just, I didn’t know when they broke up, I wasn’t thinking about that!” I told him it was cool, I knew he didn’t mean anything by it.

Beagan and I went back to her apartment, stayed up until four a.m. drinking and talking. Five hours of fitful sleep later, I found my way back north. A week or so before, I’d been feeling bleak about where I was living, that old feeling that comes on when I’m unhappy with my life, like Maybe life would be better elsewhere. Maybe I should move back to a bigger city, or leave the midwest for good. What’s that one pop punk song about hating your hometown but knowing you’ll never escape it? That’s how I’d felt a week before. But that Saturday morning, driving up Highway 32, on the icy roads, along the frozen lake, I felt a deep and abiding love for southeastern Wisconsin. I thought about Highway 32, that road I’ve spent more of my time on than any other road in the world, and how I want a stick&poke tattoo of the highway sign, and how I’d like to write a whole mini-zine about that road. I thought about Kenocore, and how I’ve been thinking of writing a zine-book about the history of Kenocore for over a decade now. I thought about a conversation Beagan and I’d had the night before. We were talking about someone we knew from Kenosha who moved to Chicago several years ago and now says he’s from Chicago, as though all his years in southeastern Wisconsin never happened. “Why be ashamed of where you come from?” she asked. “I agree,” I said. “Besides, it’s more impressive when someone from a little town or mid-sized city like Racine or Kenosha does something cool. Why pretend you’re from Chicago? There are a million cool people in Chicago, but not so many in Kenosha.” I thought about the previous night’s show, and how, to paraphrase World/Inferno, the kids do still sing and dance, drink and fuck, smash it up. It’s my homeland.

—Jessie Lynn McMains, originally appeared in Reckless Chants #21 (autumn 2014), in slightly different form

[that-one-rat-in-the-cupboard]

Blue=Sally Face/Sal

Pink=Lyra/Lizzy

White=Claire(interviewer)

Orange=Larry

Green=Travis

Red=Jake/Sal's cellmate I made up

Italicized=Past

_______________________

The Interview

[Exclusive Cut]

_______________________

You spoke with a great fondness about your friend, Ashley. I understand that you two were very close. You even considered her one of your best friends, along with Larry Johnson and Todd Morrison, is that true?

…Yes…

Have you seen this?

Claire shows Sal a newspaper. Part of one of the articles is circled in red ink: ‘Prosecutor will call Ashely Cambell to testify against The Sally Face Killer.’ A single tear from Sal falls on the paper. Sal crushes the paper.

Many people are curious, was there anything more between you and Ashley? A romantic relationship, perhaps?

No. Ash was just a close friend. I was interested in someone else…

And who would that be? Could you tell us about them?

Lyra Roxley…We always called her Lizzy.

Last I heard you haven’t mentioned anyone by that name in any police interviews.

She wasn’t around enough for it to matter.

Did she know about the supposed cult? Or about the ‘bologna incident’, as you referred to it?

…Yes. She knew. She knew everything. She left all that to Todd, Larry, Ash, and me, though. We would tell her about it, but she never actually tried investigating it herself.

Can you tell me more about her? When did you two meet? How did you meet? What was she like?

We met in junior year of high school…

“Fuck! I’m gonna be late!”

She was always breaking one rule or another. Whether it was speeding through the school halls on rollerblades or not following the dress code, she seemed to break every rule there was aside from blowing up the school within her first week. I think about the moment we met every day…

“Woah-shit!”

Travis had tripped her while she was rollerblading through the halls. She crashed right into me. I remember watching her flip off Travis before making sure I was alright. I didn’t hear anything she said at first, it was all a blur, and not because she had just crashed into me.

“Hellooo! Dude, you good?”

Her eyes were black, not a really dark brown, straight black. Her hair was unruly, had a mind of its own and moved however it wanted, even if she was sitting still. She had naturally blonde hair, but she dyed the back black and bleached the front. She always had two raccoon tails on either side of her fac-

I’m sorry, raccoon tails?

They weren’t real raccoon tails. She dyed lines of black into large sections of hair next to her face. She always called them raccoon tails and I picked up on the habit.

Ah, I see. Go on.

Right. She wore these big, round, wire-framed glasses that made her eyes look bigger than they should’ve, but in a cute way. She had a couple of piercings; a septum nose ring with spikes on it, a lip ring on each side of her bottom lip with spikes on them, and a double eyebrow piercing. She always had bags under her eyes, but her energy never matched them.

“Woah, dude. What happened here?”

“I couldn’t sleep so I turned my room into one big booby trap and now I can’t move… Wanna spend the next three hours trying to disarm it so I don’t blow up the apartments?”

She always dressed up for anything, even if she was just staying home. Her entire wardrobe was just black and red. Maybe a few denim jackets or vests, but they were mainly covered in patches she made or metal spikes she painted. All her pants were ripped and I don’t think I ever saw her in a shirt that didn’t have at least one hole in it. No matter what she wore, she always had this one light grey beanie on. For some reason, everyone in our little friend group wanted to steal it. No one ever could.

Larry peaked over the armrest of his couch, staring intently into the kitchen to make sure Lyra had her back turned before he executed the perfect plan. He signaled to Sally, who was waiting in his doorway for said signal, and the blue-haired boy immediately left the room, walking right to the kitchen.

“Hey, Lizzy?”

“Yeah, Sally Face?”

“Can you grab me a glass? Larry always puts them too high for me to reach to fuck with me.”

“Hehe, sure.”

As Lyra turned her back to reach into the cabinet and grab the glass, Sal signaled to Larry. Instantly, Larry leaped out from the behind the couch and raced over to Lyra, snatching the beanie off of her head…only for another one to be pinned to her hair underneath. She whipped around and faced Larry, pointing an accusing finger at him with a bright, ecstatic expression on her face.

“HA! I knew it! You can’t beat me Lar-Bar!”

Did you ever find out why she wore it?

…

Sal?

She was strong, too. Not physically. More like mentally. Some of the things she told me from her childhood…I still don’t understand how she survived it all. I can’t count the number of times she was beaten up by Travis and his gang. Yet, somehow, every time she just got back up and went on with her day. Larry always said she was a different person during the fights. I never believed him. Not until I witnessed one of the fights myself…

“Hey, freak! Why don’t you run on back to hell and leave us all alone!”

“Dude, I’m just standing here. Am I not allowed to just stand?”

“You got a problem, freak?”

“Yes, several. Would you like me to list off the mental ones or the physical ones first?”

“Lizzy, just leave it be. He won’t-”

“I got this, Sal. Don’t worry about me.”

“Hey! Are you even listening to me!?”

“Didn’t you just say you wanted me to leave you alone? Geeze, dude. Get your priorities straight.”

“Why, you-!”

Lyra wasn’t expecting the first hit, but that didn’t stop her from staying on her feet. Her hand slowly rose to her nose, feeling just beneath it as the blood began to flow. She pulled her hand away and started at the blood on her fingers. Then her eyes met Travis’ and a sinister smile grew on her chapped lips.

“You wanna dance, pretty boy? Let’s fuckin’ dance.”

So, you’re claiming she enjoyed the fights? That, perhaps, she sought them out on purpose?

She never sought them out on purpose, but if it seemed like one was about to start, she wouldn’t do anything to stop it. She definitely enjoyed them, though. She would smile and laugh like a maniac during them. At first, other people would laugh at her, too, mocking her. But the longer the fights went on, the more people realized that she wasn’t laughing to ease her nerves or act all confident. No, she was laughing because she liked it.

Liked what?

The pain. During the fights, she would lick the blood off her face, didn’t matter if it was her’s or the other person’s. She reveled in the fights. She didn’t even seem to notice there was ever a crowd. I’m pretty sure that from her perspective, it was just her and her opponent.

What did she do if someone else got into a fight?

Depends on who it was. If it was people she didn’t know or didn’t care for, she didn’t bother joining or even crowding around it like the other kids did. If it was one of her friends, like Ash, Todd, Larry, or me, she’d go batshit if she had to.

She was defensive of all of you?

Yes. Very.

Do you know why?

No. She always avoided the question when any of us asked. We tried telling her not to worry about us, that we can hold our own, but she always said-

“No…Not against this…”

-and we never knew what she meant. She was always quiet when she said it. It felt like the air around us dropped to freezing and like we were being suffocated. She always left shortly after those interactions, making up an excuse she knew we wouldn’t believe, but we knew better than to ask. The suffocating feeling and the cold would go away a few seconds after she left.

Can you tell me more about your relationship with her?

I guess. There’s not much to talk about. We became friends in junior year and remained friends for a few years. She had told me she loved me on the night of the…incident.

Lyra couldn’t stop biting her nails, picking away at the black polish. She had been video chatting with a friend from her old town when she told them about her years-long crush on Sal. They had convinced her to confess to him, and so she threw on her skates, kissed her dogs and cats goodbye, and started towards Addison Apartments. However, in her excitement to finally confess, she never thought about how she would confess. That resulted in her stalling for a long time, going so slow on her skates that the sun had fully set and the moon had taken over the sky. Still, before she knew it, she was on the sidewalk leading up to Addison Apartments. Sal was standing in the doorway, eyes wide and horrified as he stared at her, blood on his clothes and the weapon in hand.

Sal…?

You didn’t respond?

How could I? I didn’t have time to explain to her. The police were nearly there. She ran once she realized where the sirens were headed.

If all she said was your name, how do you know she was going to confess?

Um…she dropped a note when she ran. I had just enough time to look down at my feet where it had fallen and read it before I was arrested.

What did it say?

I don’t remember all of it, but I do remember one line. ‘I swear on my life and the River Styx, you are my Sun, and I am Icarus’.

Where is she now? Do you know?

…

Sal?

…

Mr. Fisher, can you answer the question? Where is sh-

She’s dead.

…

…Are we done here? I believe I have a trial to get to.

Yes. We are done here.

——————

So…

What, Jake?

How did it actually go down?

How did what actually go down?

That girl you talked about in the interview. How did she really confess.

How do you know about that?

They aired it after your trial. Todney convinced the guards to let us watch it. So, what really happened that night.

If you saw the interview, then why are you asking?

Because you lied.

…

Don’t try denying it. You said she wasn’t prepared to see you when she left, but she somehow had a love letter with her that she just so happened to drop at your feet even though she was at the very end of the sidewalk?

…

I doubt she’s dead, either. You hesitated before saying that, but not in a ‘I don’t want to face this again’ way. You hesitated in a ‘fuck, I need to think of a lie fast’ way. So tell me. What really happened that night?

…

Come on, Sally. We’re alone in our cell and I’ve got a life sentence. No guards, no cameras, no one to spill this to the news. So tell me. What happened?

…She didn’t confess to me that night. She knew what I was going to do and was trying to stop me in time. She was going to do it herself but she was too late. She tried to stay with me, but I wouldn’t let her stay. I told her to run. To leave me and never look back. That’s when she hugged me and said the Icarus thing.

So you guys already knew you liked each other before then? Were you like, partners in crime or something?

Heh, funny you say that. We used to have this thing we’d say all the time, just us. One of us would say-

“Partners in crime-”

And then the other would say-

“And trouble til the end!”

That’s adorable. It makes me want to throw up. So, if she didn’t confess that night, when did she?

That’s a bit of a long story…

And we got nothing but time.

You won’t believe me.

Who has up to this point?

…It happened during the last week of our senior year of high school. It was her, Larry, and me all in Larry’s room. We were hanging out for a while, but we were all very tense about finals and having to study and what we were going to do after school was over, there was just a lot of stress and nowhere for it to go. Larry had tried stealing her beanie again…

“Come on, dude! We don’t care if your hair is all messed up, just let me see!”

We had all been drinking, especially Larry, so we were all a bit more on edge than we would have been otherwise, and I think that’s why things ended up the way they did…

“Larry, stop! You don’t do this shit to Sal!”

“This is just your hair! Why won’t you let anyone see!?”

“Larry, dude, chill ou-”

“No! Since the moment we met her she’s been hiding it from us! What if it’s something to do with that stupid cult? What if she’s got a mic under there or some shit!?”

“Larry! You can’t just accuse her of-”

“You can’t just defend her because you’re in love with her!”

“Larry!”

“I don’t care! I’m done with this cult shit! I’m done with all of it! I’m getting to the bottom of it and if that means outing Lizzy as a spy, then damnit I will!”

“Larry, wait-!”

“Dude, stop!”

Lyra wasn’t quick enough to dodge, and the next thing everyone knew, her beanie was in Larry’s hand. The lights flickered and the CD that had once been playing music began spewing static. Larry’s feet were glued to the floor as he looked around frantically. The small bit of sun peeking through the curtains was washed out by swirling dark figures. Sal began to panic and backed into a corner as the figures engulfed Lyra. Larry stared on in horror, immediately sobering up as he saw the shadowy figures swirl around her. It was only when one zipped past him toward her that he was knocked out of his shock and started frantically stumbling backward, tripping over an empty canvas and joining Sal in the corner. Just as fast as it had started, it ended. The lights flickered on, the shadows dispersed, and there was Lyra, all the same…almost. Shadows shifted and danced over her head and behind her. The ones over her eyes wrapped around her head and resembled bandages. The ones over her mouth formed an ‘X’. The ones over her ears looked like scribbles you may see in a notebook. The ones on her back looked like four sets of wings, two smaller sets under the biggest ones and the smallest set right above the big ones. There was also a long, whip-like tail that trailed from behind her.

Woah, woah, woah. I thought that demon dude was a guy. And you said there was only one of him!

There is. If you let me finish the story it’ll make sense. Hopefully.

Okay, okay, fine. Keep going with your little fairytale.

Everyone was frozen in place, all out of fear. Lyra knew this was bound to happen, she just hoped it never would.

“L…Lizzy?”

She couldn’t say a word. So instead she jumped up from her spot on the floor and ran. Larry tried going after her, but when he left his room and saw a completely empty living room, and no doors left open that Lyra could have ran through, he started to panic.

“Fuck, man. This isn’t good. What do we do!? She just disappeared!”

“I-I don’t know! Where do you think she would’ve gone?”

“She always said Wendigo Lake calmed her down when she was stressed. Said she liked to swim there when it was nighttime.”

“It’s still light out, but it will be getting dark soon. You go check there and I’ll check the apartments. I doubt she left town.”

“Oh god, what have I done? Why couldn’t I have just left her alone!?”

“Worry about that later, Larry. We need to find her first and make sure she’s okay.”

“Right. Find her first…I hope that’s soon…”

We looked for her for hours, but couldn’t find her. We were so tired by the end of it that we just ended up crashing in Larry’s room together, hoping we’d find her the next day. Larry was out the moment his head hit the bed, but I couldn’t sleep. I was too worried about Lizzy. I needed to know where she went, if she was okay. I ended up going outside for a breath of fresh air. I was out there for maybe five minutes before I heard crying coming from the tree house Larry and I hung out in all the time. So I climbed up into it and…

“Lizzy?”

“Ah! S-Sally! I-I-fuck! You can’t see me like-I-I need to-”

“Don’t leave! …Please, don’t leave.”

“But…aren’t you mad? Don’t you want me to leave? I look like…him after all…”

“I don’t care about that right now. I just want to make sure you’re okay…”

“...”

“Lizzie?”

“I’m okay, Sally. Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Um, do you mind if I sit next to you?”

“It was your’s and Larry’s treehouse before I came along. Do whatever you like.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“...”

“...”

“I’m sorry…For what happened earlier.”

“What?”

“You know, the flickering lights and the CD static?”

“Oh, that…”

“Yeah…that…”

“What was that?”

“...The beanie I wear has a sealing and protection combination rune embroidered on the inside of it. As long as I’m wearing it, it hides the…shadowy parts of me…That’s what happens when it’s taken off unexpectedly…”

“...”

“I know you want to ask me, Sal. It’s okay. You can ask.”

“Are…are you related to the Red Eyed Demon?”

“Yes.”

“...”

“I’m his daughter. I was conceived after he became the demon. The cult had offered him one of their women so he could have an heir. When I was born with no physical signs of being a demon, he abandoned me and killed my mother. He didn’t care what happened to me, so the cultists shoved me into the arms of another cultist, a man named Taylor. He became my adoptive father and left the cult not even a few months later. We were on the run most of my life, but we didn’t have a choice… He died a week before I moved here. He had made the beanie for me when I turned ten and started to develop the shadows. I only had to wear it in public. When we were alone, I could have it off as much as I wanted. He made sure that I wouldn’t be ashamed of the shadows, but he also made sure I understood where I inherited them from, and why I had to hide them…”

“So…Your father is…the Red Eyed Demon.”

“...”

“...”

“...It was amazing knowing you, Sally. I’ll miss you a lot.”

“W-what? What are you talking about, you’re leaving?”

“Huh? No. I just…you don’t want to be around me anymore, right? I’m directly related to the very thing you have been trying to take down since you moved here four years ago! There’s no way you’d want to be around me anymore! …right?”

“Lizzy, I love you. You obviously don’t want your father to take over the earth. If you did you would have killed me and Larry and Ash and Todd and anyone trying to stop him by now. I trust you, Lizzy. You’ve stayed with us and believed us since you met us. Do you know how liberating it was to finally have someone believe us without needing proof? Though, now I get why you didn’t need any proof…”

“You love me?”

“Uh…ah, yeah. I did say that, didn’t I?”

“...”

“I understand if you don’t like me back. I mean, who in their right mind would?”

“...”

“It’s not like I’m like Larry. Muscular, handsome, normal…”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“Say something, damnit.”

“I love you, too.”

“...”

“Can I kiss you?”

“...Yes.”

So, this demon dude you keep talking about, that you want to kill, not only has a daughter, but you fell in love with said daughter?

In my defense, I didn’t know she was his daughter until after I realized I loved her.

Still, dating the daughter of a demon you want to kill is probably the biggest ‘fuck you’ you could give to the universe.

Maybe, but all I cared about at the time was finishing school. The cult had kind of gone to the background of my mind for the time being.

Hm…Question.

Shoot.

Why are you suddenly so willing to talk about this chick when you haven’t mentioned her at all til the interview?

I was just sentenced to death row. I’ve got nothing to lose. No one but the people that were there for it believe me. I doubt anyone will believe this, even if you tell anyone.

You don’t know that.

Do you believe me?

…

Exactly.

————————

[levi-supreme]

Sorry, I was multitasking. He/him and no nickname in particular for the Earl Grey and chocolate bon bon anon. No pressure :)

Characters: Levi x male!reader

Prompts: Levi [Earl Grey] and arcade date [chocolate bon bon]

A/N: Hi anon! Wow, my first ever character x male reader request!! Thank you for trusting me with this, and I really hope you like this! :-) it's my first time writing for a male reader, so I hope you can forgive me too if I made any mistakes or inaccuracies!!!!

Although this is for a male reader, I wrote this with a gender neutral reader in mind, so I hope everyone can enjoy this! Also, Levi and you are in the dating phase, so you two are still trying to have fun and getting to know each other better. And, there will be some swearing and also usage of nicknames like 'bro' and 'dude'.

Also, I have no idea how arcades are like in other countries oops, so I'm basing it on arcades where I live!!

Rei’s 600 Follower Event: Date-A-Boyfriend (Closed)

Making your way to the shopping mall where Levi told you to meet, you saw him slouching against one of the pillars, looking at his watch. Levi was dressed casually; a black hoodie, ripped jeans, and a pair of Air Jordans. Even in such casual clothing, Levi looked good. Levi's slightly messy hair gave him a really boyish and cool look too.

"Yo, 'sup Levi," you called out, waving when Levi turned to look at you. Levi eyed you up and down. You chose to wear a simple white t-shirt with skinny jeans, your favourite pair of Converse high cut sneakers, and you brought along a denim jacket as well.

"Looking good," Levi nodded, giving you a high five and a slight shoulder bump. You felt your cheeks heat up at the slight contact, pretending to arrange your hair to hide your flush.

"So, where to first?" Levi asked as you both headed into the shopping mall.

"Hmm, do you wanna go to the arcade? I think I still have some leftover credits in my card—" you dug around your wallet and fished out a blue coloured membership card.

"Yeah, sure. I could do with some games," Levi nodded, telling you to lead the way. Once you two reached the arcade, you quickly tapped your membership card on the card reader, and was pleased to find that you still had about $50 value inside. Music from the games were blaring, children were excited to see their parents catch something for them with the claw machine, couples were taking cute photos together at the sticker print booths, and groups of friends tried their hands on games like Mario Kart.

"So, what do you wanna play? Basketball, Dance Dance Revolution, or... The House of the Dead?" Looking around, the basketball machine was unoccupied. Levi gestured towards the direction of the basketball machine.

"Wanna play some ball? The two booths are empty anyway." You smiled and walked over, tapping your card on the card reader of both machines.

"Loser has to treat the winner to dessert." You flexed your wrists as the music chimed.

"Deal."

Pressing the '2P' button, the first round began. You each had 45 seconds to score as many points as you can by shooting the balls through the hoops. Levi was surprisingly good at basketball, he shot majority of the 3-point balls accurately, and he won by a landslide. Starting the second round, you both still had 45 seconds to score as many points as you can, but during the last 20 seconds, the hoops started to move left and right. Once more, Levi won the round with a score of 56-34.

"Dude, you sure you're not cheating?" You joked as Levi cracked his knuckles.

"Tch. I played Forward for my high school's basketball team." Levi smirked as he prepared for the final round.

"Ooh. Nice. I was in my high school's basketball team too, but I'm usually on the bench." You laughed out as the last round started. For the last round, you both only had 30 seconds to score, and during the last 10 seconds, scores were doubled. Once more, Levi won with a score of 49-30.

"Guess I earned myself a free dessert," Levi looked at you smugly as you grabbed the tickets being dispensed from the machine. The game of basketball was fun, and you looked at the empty Dance Dance Revolution machine. You tapped Levi's shoulder, pointing to the machine.

"Hey, up for some DDR?"

"You bet your ass I am, bro." Levi smirked as you both made your way over to the machine. Tapping your card on the reader, the both of you pressed the start button and chose the two player mode. Levi gave you the honours to choose the first out of three songs.

"I'm not bragging, but I'm hell good at this," you looked at Levi before starting slow, choosing a slow but popular dance track.

"Starting easy with 'Butterfly', huh?" You merely shrugged as the familiar introduction started playing. Both Levi and you scored a full combo, but your score was higher as you had more 'perfects' than he did. You grinned and told Levi to choose the second track. After some contemplation, Levi chose a slower song.

"Tired already, bro?" You joked. 'So in Love' was a groovy song, but it was slower than the previous track, but it had more notes. "Watch me, I'm gonna get more perfects than you." Levi retorted and you shrugged, thinking if you should lose a few notes to let Levi beat you.

In the end, Levi did get more perfects than you, and his score beat you by a slight margin. You wondered if Levi could tell that you let him win on purpose. Yet, Levi didn't show any signs of realising. You decided to go ahead and choose a fun challenging song for the last stage.

"Beethoven's Virus? Are you fucking shitting me?" Levi frowned as you selected the last song. Beethoven's Virus was one of the fastest and most challenging songs in the game. You knew it was difficult, but you wanted to have fun with Levi. Furthermore, Levi's overall score was leading and you wanted an opportunity to perhaps screw up and let Levi win.

"Come on, bro, let's have fun since it's the final stage," you gave Levi a playful punch on the shoulder. Levi gave you a shy grin and told you to focus in the screen. You could feel your face threatening to split into a smile, and you quickly willed yourself to focus on the last stage and not how handsome Levi looked.

At last, the final scores were announced, and Levi did win the final stage. Again, you wondered if Levi could tell you let him win on purpose. However, Levi looked happy as he quickly combed his now damp fringe.

"Looks like I'm getting another free dessert." Levi smiled as he reached his hand out towards you. Holding the tickets in one hand, you took Levi's hand with your other, feeling your heart threatening to burst at the contact.

"What would you like then? Smoothies, ice cream, waffles and chicken?" You smiled as you both left the arcade hand in hand. Levi remained silent, stopping by the mall's directory.

"Up for a movie? We can get some popcorn too." Levi's hand tightened around yours as he gave you a small smile. You nodded your head enthusiastically and followed behind Levi, grabbing his hand a little tighter as well.

Squeallllllll I hope you all like this one, especially to the anon who requested for this!! Thank you so much for trusting me to write this, and I hope you enjoyed it!

And just in case some of you are not sure of the games I've mentioned, the clips of the DDR game play are in the hyperlinks of the song titles ^^ my favourite thing to play in the arcade is definitely DDR lol, my dancer reputation is at stake whenever I play this xD this is an example of how crazy the hardest level can get HAHAHA. I am not at this level lol. Also if you do not know what DDR is....

Tagging: @levi-lover  @ack3rlady  @hashaneeee  @roralore  @imkumichan  @kristinecharmm  @notgoodforlife  @jean-prettyboy-kirschtein  @sweet-assh0le  @hannie2kay  @ack3rlevi  @levislovingwife  @galactict3a  @hauntedhousecat  @sckerman  @thesimpsstuff  @ackermandick  @greenfurret  @evas-leslas  @jayteacups  @nelapanela94  @postwarlevi @levisbrat25

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Rei’s 600 Follower Event: Date-A-Boyfriend (Closed)

Rei’s 600 Follower Event: Date-A-Boyfriend master list | Rei’s Springtime Event grand master list

Event tag list | Rei’s tag list

[book-of-baba-fett]

Illicit Affairs - Chapter 11

Previous Chapter

Series Summary: After being stranded together on a deserted planet, Captain Rex is forced to confront his own feelings for a Jedi General - is it just simply attraction or something more? Caught between duty and desire, they both must decide what’s most important to them. Rex’s responsibility to his brothers and to the Republic, or her and a life he never thought of for himself. And her faith in the Jedi order, which seems to crumble more as the war rages on.

Rating: M (no smut in this chapter but a lot of references to/series is E - 18+)

Chapter Summary: A night out gives a reprieve from the stresses of the war, even if Rex and Talia struggle to keep their relationship out of the spotlight.

Warnings: Alcohol, language, references to PIV sex, Oral Sex. One dude is a major creep at a bar, but gets what's coming. Some making out, feeling up (under the influence but there’s a consent check)

A/N: Putting more notes at the end for space but just want to thank my beloved @galacticgraffiti as always for being the best beta reader in the world. I owe you my firstborn for this. Or any other alternative. Also thanks to @djarrex for the jaig eyes dividers! Comments/Replies/Reblogs so SO appreciated 🖤

Ao3 Link

Series Masterlist

Mando'a Key:

Shabuir - fucker

19 BBY

The traffic on Coruscant was thick at this time of night; the clubs were just opening, leaving the entertainment districts of the ecumenopolis thriving. Talia had her own issues with living on such a dense, inorganic world but she had to admit the level of energy fed her in a way she knew other places couldn’t. There were echoes of billions of beings bouncing off every metal surface from the high towers of the upper levels through every tiny, winding alley of the lower levels. And on nights like this it was stronger – it was the weekend, and as she stepped out of her cab outside 79’s, she was greeted with the blurred yet excited hum of bar hopping sentients around her.

Talia dusted off her outfit, double checking the latch of her lightsaber to her belt loop; she figured this time she could go out without worrying about the threat of bounty hunters, but she now knew to be more careful. She had forgone her usual robes for the evening, deciding to wear an outfit she had used in one of her recent undercover missions: skinny, black denim pants that rose high on her waist, meeting a black lace bustier bodysuit that in all honesty could be worn alone as lingerie. Anakin had teased her endlessly while he waited for her to get ready, trying to get her to say out loud why she was trying to look so nice. Talia just rolled her eyes; she knew he knew about Rex, but she didn’t want to give Anakin the satisfaction of admitting it.

Anakin followed her out of the cab, tussling his hair with his hand as he scanned the landing pad. Talia was happy he had accepted Rex’s invitation; she had never seen him so solitary at the Temple like he had been after Ahsoka left. In all honesty, she was used to him not being around; she didn’t know where he usually spent his time on leave, but the fact that she could hear him at his workbench through all hours of the day and night was different enough for her. When she suggested the idea to Rex, she figured a night out with his men was a good way for him to destress, considering how much time they all spent together and being the same age. Forming a group and going out also worked to her own selfish advantages - if more people were around, it gave a good excuse to be in public with Rex.

Talia couldn’t hold back the grin hat spread on her lips as she remembered the last night and the morning at the hotel; being able to spend so much time with Rex in an environment where they didn’t have to be nervous about getting caught was so freeing, and she wished it could be like that all the time. But, like all things, it ended, and they had to report to base that morning, with many stolen glances and smirks tossed in the other’s direction as they passed in briefings or the hall. She almost hadn’t come tonight, wanting to give Rex the time with his brothers before their leave was about to end, but she was easily persuaded by Rex dropping to his knees and doing his best to convince her before they checked out of the hotel.

Talia and Anakin were meeting Rex and a few other boys from Torrent company before they would head into the club. Last night over dinner, Talia had broached the subject with Rex about how many of his brothers knew about them.

“Fives is the one who figured it out,” Rex had said, twirling pasta with his fork. He pursed his lips and continued, “He mentioned a bet with Jesse, from when we were on the island-“

“Of course,” Talia groaned, taking a gulp of wine.

“But I think we’re fine, because Jesse probably told Kix who I can bet knocked some sense into those two and prevented it from spreading further.”

“Good to know,” Talia nodded, setting her glass down on the table. She dabbed her mouth with a napkin and frowned slightly, “What about Cody?”

Rex chewed the food in his mouth, his brows furrowed as he swallowed, pursing his lips, then sighing, “I can’t tell him; he’s technically my superior and it puts him in a complicated situation.”

Talia had left it at that. She felt bad that Rex couldn’t share it with his best friend but understood why. She hadn’t explicitly told anyone herself; Zahara had asked questions after Talia and Rex had left her apartment after spending the night together, and Agastya was the most insightful non-Jedi she had ever met. Sometimes she wondered what it would have been like if her Master had still been alive; would she have noticed something had changed with Talia? But she was gone, and with her the person who could figure Talia out the most.

Anakin and Talia stepped towards the glowing neon entrance of 79’s, groups of clones hanging outside with liquor bottles, jovially singing tunes in Mando’a. A familiar, steady warmth settled over Talia and her head flipped to her right at a group of clones disembarking a cab.

Fives, Jesse, Tup, and Kix were all dressed for a normal night out; the lower halves of their bodies still armored while their chests were covered only by their undersuits. Rex on the other hand stood out - instead of his usual plastoid, he donned his black officer’s uniform, forgoing the cap that usually went along with it. Talia’s heart leapt at the sight of him as he shook his head laughing at something Jesse said. There was something about how she was so drawn to him, how she technically saw his face hundreds of times a day and still his was the only one that sent mynocks off in her stomach. The uniform hugged tightly to the broad muscles of his chest, his biceps practically bulging through the seams. His head turned forward and his steps faltered for a moment as he made eye contact with Talia, his eyes roving up and down her body as his lips curved.

Talia smirked to herself; so, she had done a good job with the outfit.

She stepped forward to say ‘hi’ when arm wrapped around her shoulder, twirling her towards the entrance as Fives grinned down at her. Before she could protest, Jesse appeared at her other side, sandwiching her between the two troopers with leering smiles.

“Tal, you’re going out with the Five-oh-first tonight; are you ready to have some fun?” Fives winked down at her.

“Why do I feel like your kind of fun involves trouble?”

“The best always does,” Jesse added as they entered the cantina. It wasn’t overly packed yet, but the bar stools were nearly full, as bodies of officers, armored troopers, and scattered civvies littered the dance floor. Fives and Jesse guided Talia and the stragglers of the group to a large, round booth on the lower level. Jesse slid in first, and Fives gestured for Talia to follow before he slid in himself, once again caging her between the two men. Rex sat at the opposite side of the table, his jaw slightly clenching in annoyance as he shot Jesse and Fives a warning glance.

“Fives and I are testing out a theory,” Jesse whispered into Talia’s ear. “We’re trying to see how long he can handle us flirting with you before he says anything.” Talia just giggled, shooting Rex a smirk before turning her head to face Jesse.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Talia teased, unable to keep her expression straight as Jesse fixed her with a face that clearly said not to bullshit him. She just shook her head and whispered back, “Are you trying to give him an aneurysm?”

Before Jesse could respond a server droid rolled over, carrying a single drink, and dropping it in front of Talia’s space on the table. Before she could question it, out of the corner of her eyes she caught a wave from a grinning and obviously intoxicated Commander Thorn. His curly hair was loose around his flushed face, empty glasses filling the standing table he was at with Fox, who had his head buried in his hands. Fox straightened himself out and grabbed Thorn, who was swaying where he stood, by the scruff of his neck and guided him towards the exit.

“I don’t think we have to try that hard,” Jesse mumbled, tilting his head across the table at Rex whose eyes were narrowed at Thorn as the drunk commander two finger saluted Talia goodbye.

“How the hell do you already have a drink?” Fives exclaimed irately, flipping his head from Thorn back to Talia. She shrugged in response, taking a sip of the beer; it wasn’t her usual choice, but a free drink was a free drink.

“One of the few perks of being a woman,” she answered as all the men at the booth stared at her. She made a point to make eye contact with Rex as she continued, “Men like to spend their money on drinks; especially if it’s a chance to impress a pretty girl.”

Fives snorted leaning back in the booth, “You seem pretty sure of yourself.”

“It’s just a fact,” Talia shrugged, earning an eye roll from Fives. “I bet I could go a whole night without spending a credit on a drink.”

“I’ll take that bet,” Fives grinned. “If I win, you cover my tab.”

“You’re on,” Talia laughed.

“OK, but you have to actually try and drink; no staying sober and trying to claim you won.”

“That’s fair,” Talia held her hand out and Fives shook it.

“Say goodbye to your credits then,” Fives said with a wink, only to be cut off by Tup joining the booth with a tray of shots and beer.

“First round is on me!” Tup said as he handed a shot over to Talia, who raised it in a cheer to Fives before pouring it back. Fives cursed but had a smile on his face as he took his own shot. Wincing from the cheap liquor, Talia’s eyes opened to Rex sitting across from her, squeezed between Anakin and Kix. His eyebrows raised at her as he grabbed a beer and dragged it to his lips, his eyes flicking to the fruity drink she got - courtesy of Thorn. Talia smiled at him and raised her drink at him before Fives launched into a story.

At first Talia felt a bit intrusive, joining the clones at their booth, as if their time to unwind should have been something they should experience on their own; but the longer she sat the more she felt as if she strangely belonged right there. Maybe it was the rock of Rex’s comforting presence, or the friendly small talk from Tup, the loud arguments between Fives and Jesse, or Kix rolling his eyes at the latter two. She had never had a family in the traditional sense, but this was the truest form of the clones being brothers that she had been able to witness. Sure, she saw them on the field of battle, their loyalty and trust in one another unwavering, but here they were teasing and joking, sitting around their table, and knowing each other inside and out. She even saw how Anakin fit in; he wasn’t one of them by blood per se, but the amount of time they had spent together had molded into him, making him anticipate their comments or even fire back with his own remarks when the moment arose. A lazy smirk rested on his face as he relaxed in the booth, a sense of ease taking over his aura. It struck Talia how…normal this was. There was no war here, they could be any other group of friends hanging out in a bar. She hadn’t known how much she had craved some simple interaction like this.

Much to Fives chagrin, Talia seemed to be doing fine in their bet; the others at the table would conveniently forget that she couldn’t order anything herself and would grab her something with their drinks. But the free drinks meant she was feeling a little tipsy, her laughter getting a little louder and a residual rosy tint lingering on her cheeks. Rex’s eyes would flick in her direction frequently, the gold in his irises flashing whenever a smile lit up his face. Talia smiled to herself, knowing Rex had probably wanted to sit closer to her, but being across the booth meant she could have a little fun.

“So, you mentioned you and Fives were testing out a theory?” Talia leaned back and questioned Jesse. Jesse arched a brow at Fives, who turned his attention at the mention of his name, then smirked at Talia.

“Well, we just wondered how long our good Captain can keep his composure if we start flirting with you,” Jesse said with a wink, his arm resting on the booth behind Talia’s head. Talia raised her brows at the movement but didn’t correct it. Not wanting to be outdone, Fives signaled out a server droid and ordered another round.

“What, are you helping me out in this bet now?” Talia quipped at Fives as the droid rolled away.

“What were your words earlier? Something about how men like the chance to impress pretty girls?” Fives grinned down at her, angling his body to face Talia in the booth.

“You both seem so sure of yourself,” Talia responded, throwing Fives’ earlier words back at him.

“Well, we really don’t have to try that hard,” Jesse explained. At Talia’s indignant expression he continued in a low voice, “Look, we’ve barely even talked to you and he already looks like he’s going to explode.”

Jesse had a point there, because Rex’s grip on his glass had grown noticeably tighter, and his eyes were darting between Fives and Jesse, as he frowned at the two of them. His gaze did seem to soften as he met Talia’s stare, only for a warning glare to flash again as Fives tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Yep, we’re gonna have some fun tonight,” Fives grinned.

It didn’t take long for the bar to become livelier, more clones and civilians filling 79’s practically by the minute. Talia separated from the group momentarily to greet a few of her own men, but they weren’t staying late that night due to an early training session on the base tomorrow. They did all make her promise to comm if she needed anything, citing how ‘those boys from the 501st might be a little too much for her’. Storm seemed particularly tense about the scenario, but Talia knew he just had a little protective streak for her after all theyhad been through together. As Talia stood by the music holodisplay, searching for a song to play in the bar, she grinned to herself as she remembered him leaving a few minutes ago, stopping by Torrent’s table on the way out and obviously giving a lecture to make sure she got home safe. Swiping through the display, she did enjoy her few moments of solitude before joining the boys again, but then that was interrupted by a natborn man approaching her.

“Hey there, doll, how’s your night going?” Talia couldn’t help but internally gag, not just from his cheesy words but also from the scent of liquor wafting off the man. If he had not been so intoxicated, he might have been handsome, but his out of focus gaze and lopsided grin accompanied by the sheen on his face wasn’t doing him any favors.

“Doing just fine,” Talia answered a bit abruptly, focusing on the screen in front of her. She hoped if she seemed uninterested enough, the man would simply move on, but her hopes were dashed as he leaned against the wall next to her.

“So, what’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?” he slurred and Talia couldn’t hold back the eyeroll this time; seriously, where did this guy get his lines?

“Having a night out with friends,” she answered, her eyes darting back to her booth with its occupants who were all engrossed in their own conversation.

“Well, if you’re in need of some better company, me and the boys have some room,” he slurred, tilting his head back at a nearby table of natborn men, all watching the interaction and nudging each other.

“No thanks, I’m good, have a good night though,” Talia replied bluntly, finally selecting a song she was happy with. As she entered her credits the man lingered, hovering slightly closer to her.

“Hey, what’s that you got there?” he asked, nodding at the lightsaber attached to her belt loop. “Are you a Jedi?”

“Very astute of you, yes,” Talia answered through gritted teeth, her patience wearing a bit thin. She turned away from the counter, irritation flaming even more through her as the man followed. She was about to turn around to bid him off officially, when his hand planted on her ass and squeezed.

“You know, I’ve always wondered what it would be like to fuck a Jedi,” he slurred in her ear as Talia tensed up. Cold drenching her spine, she shoved away from the man. She turned on him and her temper flared at how smug he looked, with his group of friends cheering him on from their table.

“I think it’s time for you to leave,” a voice gritted behind Talia. Rex gently pushed Talia to his side as he stepped up to the man, a look of muted rage burning in his eyes. The man forced a laugh, but hesitation flickered on his face as he glanced at Rex; they were about the same height, but Rex’s general size, even without his armor, was still threatening enough. The man glanced back at his friends, who were now raptly watching the scene in front of them. He forced another lopsided grin and stepped toward Rex.

“I’d like to see what some guy who came out of a tube is going to do about it,” the man sneered. “What, are you afraid I’ll ruin your own chances for the night? Do they even make you like real men?”

Rex’s jaw worked, a warning flashing in his eyes as his fists clenched. The tables around them stood silent, eyes darting between the men in the interaction. It was mostly clones, apart from the man’s friends, and the tension rising was thick enough to cut with a lightsaber. Talia made eye contact with Commander Wolffe who stood a few tables over, already setting his drink down, a cool anger radiating off him.

“Rex,” Talia whispered, pressing her hand into his chest, “It’s not worth it.”

His jaw still tight, Rex glanced down at Talia, back at the man, then back at Talia again before nodding and turning around. The man huffed out a laugh, acting as if he had accomplished something.

He grinned at his friends, raising his arms out in a taunt, “Whatever; can’t believe I almost wasted my time on some clone’s whore-“

CRACK

Rex’s fist slammed into the man’s nose, blood dripping down his face as he swore. A couple of his friends bolted out of the booth, beelining towards Rex when Wolffe intercepted them, grabbing them both by their necklines and tossing them to the ground. A loud cheer from the clones around them broke out as Wolffe ordered the rest of the man’s friends out of 79’s; they all quickly obliged, one of them coming to assist the man whimpering beside Rex’s feet. Talia gripped Rex’s arm, dragging him to the nearest bar.

“Hey, two upper levels, on the rocks, and a cup of ice please,” She ordered from the bartender as Rex hissed next to her, flexing his hand. Talia gripped his wrist gently, happy to notice his knuckles were only slightly red.

“You alright?” Rex asked, scanning her face.

“’Course I am, he was just an asshole,” she waved Rex off. When he frowned, she smiled reassuringly, “You popped up before anything could happen.”

“Yeah, sorry, I know you can handle yourself. I just really didn’t like the way he was talking to you, and when he touched you-“

“Rex,” Talia soothed as the bartender came back with their cocktails. “The help was more than appreciated.”

She slid the glass of ice to Rex, motioning for him to rest his knuckle against it; Rex shook his head but listened to her request as Talia handed him his drink. He frowned at it, lifting it up and swirling the contents.

“A cocktail?” He asked, raising a brow at her. Talia smiled and held her own up, clinking the glass to his.

“A whiskey cocktail; you’ll like it,” she assured him. Rex took a sip and licked his lips, nodding at Talia before taking another. “A little thank you for coming to my rescue.”

“I seem to remember you thanking me in other ways before,” Rex smirked snidely at her.

Talia’s cheeks grew hot as she smirked down at her drink, “I don’t think you want me on my knees in the middle of the bar for all your brothers to see.”

“Might put some of them in their place, show them you’re mine,” Rex said simply, full of his own assurance with a corner of his mouth lifting. Talia’s stomach tightened, her heart beating a little quicker.

“Sorry if I’ve been a little too flirty tonight, I know the guys are trying to give you some shit.”

“No really, it’s fine. I know you don’t mean anything by it,” Rex assured, taking a sip as he glanced around the bar. “Fives does push it, though.”

Talia laughed, leaning on the counter to beam at him, a slight ache in her cheeks for how she couldn’t stop grinning at him, “You seem pretty sure of yourself.”

“None of them get that smile in return,” Rex continued, smirking at her, and taking another sip from the glass. Placing it back on the counter, he licked his lips of the residual liquor, eyeing Talia deviously and said, “They all can look at you, but they’ll never be able to taste every inch of you like I have.”

Talia crossed her legs, leaning against the bar and bending her head to try and hide the flustered grin spreading in her face. Rex’s fingers tapped her chin, making her look into his dark eyes. She glanced around for a second, making sure no wandering eye could notice the blatant flirtation, the low lights of the bar providing a veil with a deceiving air of secrecy in the crowded room. She didn’t think Rex had had that much to drink, but there was an extra charm in his demeanor, something about his aura lingering around her in an intoxicating presence far stronger than any liquor the bar carried.

“You have a way with words,” Talia ventured conversationally, as if there wasn’t a mini heartbeat pulsing between her legs. “Tell me; is this how you usually spend your nights here? Flirting with the first girl to buy you a drink?”

“Only the pretty blondes in black.”

Talia slapped his forearm, shaking her head and biting her lower lip. “And what do you do then, sneak them back to the barracks?”

“Oh, the night is too young to head back, besides, I don’t just take any girl to my room; what kind of man do you think I am?” Rex taunted. The smirk plastered on his face faded into the usual warmth, soft gaze he was known for, leaning his head in ever so slightly so he could whisper, “You really look amazing tonight.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Captain,” she replied, her eyes roving over his officer’s uniform. “You should wear this more often; your ass looks great in those pants.”

Rex choked slightly on his drink as Talia grinned innocently at him. He shook his head out, eyes wide as he rubbed the back of his head. “I hope this isn’t how you address all your uniformed officers.”

“No, just the pretty blondes in black,” Talia retorted, calling to his earlier words. It was hard to be sure in the lowlight, but Talia was sure Rex’s flush deepened; his lips kept that curve, the lines around his eyes crinkled as his smile reached his eyes. As strobes of light bounced around them, reflecting the harsh angles of his face, Talia couldn’t help but be struck by him. She could close her eyes and see every contour of his face, the rugged and handsome visage forming a lopsided smirk with gleaming, golden eyes always so soft whenever they faced her. She could, for a second, imagine she was any other person, not a Jedi, but just a normal girl on a night out, soaking in the company and attention of her lover. She wasn’t one for dancing, but what she would give for Rex to hold her in his arms as they swayed back and forth under the strobing lights of the cantina, to be able to have more than just secret moments and flirtatious remarks murmured low enough so they couldn’t be overheard over the pulsing base. But that wasn’t something they could have.

Rex’s brows furrowed and he straightened, as if he had read every thought in Talia’s head through the smallest of hints her face may have betrayed.

“We should probably get back to the group.”

Talia nodded, gathering her drink, and turning around; she could only hope no one around them cared about what was probably a longer conversation than usual for a general and a captain not under her command. A gleam of white caught her eye, and when she glanced over, her steps slowed for a moment as she could have sworn she saw the brows of Commander Wolffe furrow just the slightest bit, but she assured herself it was just his usual demeanor, or that he was just squinting under an errant ray of light. Quelling the questioning feeling that had minutely creeped in, she slid into the booth beside Tup, Rex following shortly after, his thigh pressing against hers as they crowded on the bench. Jesse was in the middle of telling a story involving a Devaronian, a Nikto, and a Twi’lek walking into a bar when Fives cut him off.

“Wait; who paid for those drinks?” Fives demanded, his eyes flicking between the glasses in front of Rex and Talia. Talia furrowed her brow, confused as to why Fives was asking when her eyes widened and her mouth fell open.

“FUCK!” She exclaimed, putting her head in her hands as Fives burst out laughing.

“I knew you would slip up!” he bellowed from across the table, the rest of the group laughing along with him. Rex shot a sheepish grin at Talia, wordlessly apologizing which she waved off. Fives signaled to a nearby server, winking at Talia as he ordered “Hey, a round of jet juice here, put it on my tab.”

“Oh, soorani ni’jagyc,” Talia rolled her eyes and fired back, only to narrow her eyes at the strange reaction of the clones around her. Rex had tensed, Tup was awkwardly shuffling his hands, but Kix, Jesse, and Fives all seemed to be holding in laughter. Talia’s eyes met Anakin’s gaze who merely shrugged.

“Uh, do you know what you said?” Rex forced a cough and glanced down at her, a grin threatening to peak on his lips.

“It means ‘fuck off’, right?” Talia questioned, but was able to read the atmosphere enough to put two and two together that she was incorrect.

“Uh, well… some of us might use it in that sense,” Tup offered, apparently trying to be helpful, but there was a slight edge in his tone.

“What did I say then?” Talia asked, her voice pitching high as she suddenly felt mortified that she might have said something offensive without realizing.

Fives glanced at Rex, almost as if asking for permission, before he chuckled and informed Talia, “It means, ‘suck my dick’.”

Talia blushed furiously red, putting her head in her hands as her muffled words could be heard, “Oh no, Church used to say it all the time and he’s the one who told me the meaning; I’ve said that to so many people.”

“For what it’s worth, your pronunciation was pretty good,” Rex offered, holding back a smirk as he took a sip from his drink. Talia shot him a glare, but couldn’t stop herself from smiling at her own blunder. Shaking her head, she perked up at the sight of a familiar figure approaching.

“Agastya!” Talia exclaimed at the sight of the approach of her Chalactan friend, waving from her seat in the booth to greet her, while catching Jesse nudging Kix out of the corner of her eye. Agastya beamed sweetly at her, tucking a long strand of hair behind her ears as she eyed the table, looking for a place to join. Talia gestured to Rex to scooch in so her friend could join them, but didn’t need to when Jesse stood from his spot at the end of the booth, freeing up a spot for Agastya to sit right next to Kix. As Jesse stepped away, he had a smirk on his face, giving Talia a low thumbs up as he stepped in the direction of the fresher. Kix immediately struck up a conversation with Agastya as she sat down, and soon Talia forgot that she had been the one to invite her to join in the first place.

It was a loud and busy night now, and Rex had to admit, he was enjoying himself. He didn’t dislike the bar scene, but he usually found it a bit ostentatious for his own tastes. But tonight, after he had a few of those cocktails Talia had ordered and sat back in the booth with his brothers, he was fonder of it. Their booth had accidentally become a center of activity during the night, with various troops from other battalions coming over to talk at different times. By now though it was fairly clear apart from him, Anakin, Tup and Fives, and the latter three were engrossed in a conversation that was muted to Rex’s ears.

Talia was off on the dance floor, being twirled by Jesse who had pressured her to join him as Kix and Agastya danced near them. Rex smirked to himself when Talia glanced at him with a grimace but broke into laughter as Jesse clumsily dipped her. Talia was admittedly swaying on her feet a bit, and the lingering pinkness on her cheeks hinted that the alcohol might be hitting her a bit. But he didn’t think he had ever seen her in such a state of jovialness, even when it was just the two of them. Her smile across the room was like a beacon, the light beaming straight at him and swelling in his chest. He couldn’t ignore the slight residue of bitterness in him when he wished that he could be out there with her, without a regard for anyone else in the crowded cantina.

A glass clinked to his and Rex was pulled away from his thoughts as Wolffe sat on the edge of the booth next to him, and gave Rex a small nod with a slightly taunting tone as he greeted, “How’s your night going, Rex’ika?”

Rex rolled his eyes but greeted his brother all the time, being long used to the joke of being the younger brother to the CC’s, even though he was a generation one just like them. Despite the slight taunts he gave occasionally, Rex liked Wolffe; he was a tactful commander who probably cared more about the men under his command than any other officer did, even if he was more reserved about it. The two of them chatted a bit, but Rex could feel the awkwardness lingering in the air, something unsaid from Wolffe. He assumed it was about Ahsoka, knowing that Wolffe had been the one to make the arrest on her before she was proven innocent, and that because of Wolffe’s close friendship with Master Plo, he too saw a side of Ahsoka that the average clone might not have seen. Still, it was nice to be with his brother; sometimes, when more of the CC’s were planetside at the same time, they would get together, and Rex often joined by association. It provided a relief for them all - being in command provided many difficulties that even all the training on Kamino couldn’t foresee, and sometimes talking to others who had been in his position was helpful. Even if they didn’t use explicit words, or go into detail of what was troubling them, the company of others who understood them was solace enough.

Rex’s eyes flicked back to Talia, no longer dancing, but standing by the bar with Jesse, Kix, and Agastya. The lights from the cantina were glowing on her skin, her smile spread wide on her face and Rex couldn’t tear his eyes away. She really looked so intoxicatingly sexy tonight; when he had first seen her entering the club, there had been a part of him that wanted to take her away and spend the night at a nearby hotel again, wanting to soak up every little moment with her that he could have.

“You’re staring,” Wolffe’s voice cut across Rex’s thoughts, making him fumble for his drink.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rex responded tersely, taking a gulp. Wolffe huffed softly, drinking from his own glass, his eyes burning a hole in the side of Rex’s face as he tried to hide any telltale expression.

“Please, if that little interaction with that shabuir earlier wasn’t enough of a hint, you too fucking each other with your eyes at the bar was definitely enough.” Wolffe snorted. He had a smirk on his face, but it fell at Rex’s glare. Rex clenched the glass he was holding; how could he have been so careless to think no one would notice anything? Was he too relaxed with the few who already knew?

“For what it’s worth,” Wolffe started, obviously sensing the debacle whirring in Rex’s head, “this isn’t the first time I’ve seen a clone and a Jedi get close.”

“What?” Rex asked, pausing from his own troubling thoughts.

“Have you ever seen the way Bly acts around General Secura?” Wolffe continued with a snort. Rex frowned, but he did remember the way the two acted on Maridun, so long ago. How Bly was always just one step behind the General, the simple check-ins he would have with her. Rex had simply assumed they were close, surely there was nothing more going on between them like what Wolffe was implying now – but the look Wolffe was fixing him with was enough to give Rex pause.

“That’s interesting, but there’s nothing less than professional between me and Tal- General Riva,” Rex stated bluntly. Wolffe just raised his eyebrows doubtingly at Rex, the unspoken words written across his face enough to show how little he believed him. They sat in silence, the loud music mingled with the raucous laughter of clones reverbing around them in the cantina as their brothers sought refuge from the war with booze and each other.

The lights were blurring in Talia’s eyes slightly; as she stood still she could see their swirling lines around her as they tracked in her vision. The liquor in her glass had no burn to it, and she poured it back like water on a hot day as she leaned against the bar next to Tup. Fives and Jesse stood on his other side, nudging each other, their eyes scanning the crowd around them. Talia giggled to herself and took another sip of her drink as she watched them, only for her eyes to meet Tup’s.

“You sure you should have another?” the clone asked, a slight concern filling his tone mingling with a slight teasing voice as he spoke to her; among all the clones in their group tonight Tup was a bit more reserved around Talia, but his friendship with Fives had rubbed off him enough that he had a playful edge.

“I’m fine,” Talia said, waving him off, even though her words blurred together the slightest bit. She fixed Tup with an inquisitive glance as he shook his head at her, the skin around his eyes crinkling as he silently laughed at her. Over his shoulder, Talia caught a pretty, lilac skinned Twi’lek woman staring in their direction, her gaze particularly lingering on Tup. Talia grinned, and addressed the trooper, “You have an admirer.”

Tup’s brows furrowed, and when Talia tilted her chin in the direction of the Twi’lek, who snapped her gaze away from them once Tup looked over, he offered Talia a sheepish grin, “I doubt it, sir.”

“Oh, come on; you’re a catch!” Talia exclaimed, slapping his shoulder. Tup shook his head, but his eyes still tracked to the attractive woman. Talia pushed herself straight and faced Tup. “Take your hair down.”

“What?”

“Trust me; pull your hair out of the bun, then flip it over your head,” Talia gestured enthusiastically with her hands until Tup listened to her, loose curls draping along his shoulders. “Great, now flip if back; you look great! Now go talk to her!”

Tup fixed Talia with another confused look, but shrugged, drank the rest of his beer, and walked over to the Twi’11lek woman, whose face lit up at his approach. Talia smirked to herself, turning around at the bar to signal a refill from the bartender who cleared Tup’s empty glass.

“We have a problem,” a voice called into her ear as the figure of Fives pressed into her side.

“Yeah, you’ve helped everyone but us get some tonight,” Jesse accused as he slid onto her other side. His chin tilted back to their booth where Kix and Agastya were engrossed in a conversation, completely oblivious to everything around them.

“I haven’t done more than just…nudge some things in the right direction.” Talia snorted as the bartender slid her latest drink across the counter. “And what do you need; for me to hold your hand?”

“Definitely not, but a little support would be nice,” Fives teased, winking at Talia as she rolled her eyes.

“Especially when you help out all our friends except for us,” Jesse mumbled, faux bitterness lacing his tone, a bitterness that didn’t reach his eyes as he smiled at the woman settling into the seat next to him.

“I think you’re just fine on your own,” Talia laughed as Jesse raised his eyebrows to her, before he turned and ordered a round for him and the new woman, leaving Fives and Talia to talk on their own.

“What about me then?” Fives asked tauntingly, lifting his glass to his lips as his eyes sparkled at Talia. “Not going to give me a hand then?”

“And why should I?”

“Well,” Fives started, his eyes flicking to where Kix and Agastya sat, “I didn’t know if Zahara was planning on showing up at all...”

“She had an event at the senate,” Talia answered, but frowned at Fives, “And I don’t think she’d be so keen on showing up after someone said they’d call her but never did.”

“Things just got away from me, that’s all.” Fives rubbed the back of his head as he explained bashfully. At Talia’s continued icy gaze, his hands gestured wildly as he continued explaining indignantly, “Hey, you got kidnapped and we had to rescue you; I think that counts as a pretty good excuse.”

Rolling her eyes Talia admonished him, “Never tell a girl you’ll call unless you’re sure you will; it makes things unnecessarily complicated.”

“I really didn’t mean to be a jerk,” Fives assured, slightly deflated as he fixed Talia with a sincere glance.

“I know you didn’t,” Talia sighed, but she smiled softly at him. Fives’s lighthearted demeanor returned as the two settled into watching the wide variety of people filling the bar, tossing out commentaries as they observed some of the shinies attempting to flirt. Fives also lobbed a few teasing remarks Talia’s way when a particularly confident one tried to share his own war stories with her, only to be humbled when he realized he was talking with a Jedi.

Talia glanced over to the booth where their friends had gathered, along with a few other clones who had joined in. A group of women were now with them; Talia assumed they had to work with the GAR in some capacity judging by their familiarity with the men. One who caught her eye in particular was gorgeous, with long copper hair and ivory skin in a strappy black dress. Talia’s gut twisted as the woman slid next to Rex in the booth, smiling at him with an unbridled familiarity.

“Hey, who’s that girl, talking to Rex?” Talia asked Fives, trying to mask the interested curiosity in her voice.

Fives peeked back at the booth and answered offhandedly, “Oh, that’s Savi, she and Rex used to be a thing.”

“Oh,” Talia responded flatly as Savi shot Rex a dazzling smile, resting a manicured hand on his shoulder pad. Rex addressed her politely, answering whatever she said to him; Talia had to hold down a fit of bile as Savi threw her head back laughing at whatever Rex had said.

Fives head snapped to Talia at her low tone. “It was nothing serious.”

“Sure but, look at her,” Talia exhaled, taking a gulp of the drink in her hand, “She’s stunning.”

Talia couldn’t hold back her free hand levitating toward her face, her fingers skimming the pale line of the scar that ran from her inner line diagonally over her nose. At Fives’s pitying, yet exasperated glance, her hand snapped back to her side.

“Are you kidding me Tal?” Fives asked disbelievingly, “You can’t be jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Talia mumbled, “I just…haven’t seen how Rex acts with a woman he used to be involved with before and I’m not sure I like it.”

“Newsflash; that’s called being jealous,” Fives snorted, but looked at her softly as Talia worried her bottom lip in between her teeth. Fives nudged her in the ribs, making Talia tear her eyes away from Savi shamelessly batting her lashes at Rex.“Tal, you have nothing to worry about. One; you’re hot as hell.”

It was Talia’s turn to nudge Fives as he grinned down at her, his teasing tone fading as he assured her, “Two, have you seen the way Rex looks at you? I’m half convinced he thinks the stars shine out of your ass.”

“Sometimes I catch him with that look,” Talia answered, unable to hide the curve of the giddy smile breaking on her lips. But still, that small seed of doubt knotted in her gut. It might be foolish - she had never felt like she needed to worry about Rex’s interest in her since they got involved, but seeing him with another woman spurred on a whole level of self-doubt she never knew she had. Before, her anxiety always centered around her own abilities as a Jedi or a leader; now she was worried she wasn’t enough in her love life?

Seeing that she was still on edge, Fives continued his efforts to bolster her confidence, “Look, all you need to do is walk over there, and Rex will forget any other girl exists.”

“It’s not that simple,” Talia sighed as Fives rolled his eyes dramatically. “Really, I can’t make a scene or make anything super obvious, we aren’t exactly flaunting our relationship here. But..”

Fives raised his brows at Talia as she fixed him with a smirk, slowly finishing the remnants of her drink and suggested, “I could always just make him jealous.”

Fives’ brows cinched then his mouth formed and ‘oh’ as he understood the direction Talia was hinting. He shook his head abruptly, “Absolutely not, you are on your own here; it was fun earlier, but that was before Rex broke a guy’s nose for you. And I happen to like my face the way it looks.”

“That was only because that creep felt up my ass and you wouldn’t do that.”

“No, ‘cause I already have,” Fives retorted with a devilish smirk, straightening up just in time to dodge an attempted slap to his arm from Talia. Her eyes shooting daggers at Fives, she reached out to grab the drink from his hand and gulp it down as he protested. Her gaze fell on a group of shinies, one whose attempted flirtation she had previously waved off, standing around a table not far from them that was conveniently in the line of sight of their group’s booth.

“Whatever, I think I can make this work on my own,” Talia said as she swallowed the liquor, launching a two-finger salute at Fives as she strutted over to the table, the shinies nudging each other with eyes as round as saucers as she added a little sway to her hips and approached.

Rex could barely hear anything over the music in the cantina; had it been getting louder through the night or was that just a result of 79’s growing more crowded? He had no idea what Savi was even saying to him as she updated him on her life since he had last seen her, but he had stopped asking her to repeat herself when she took his not hearing as an excuse to press herself so close to him that she was practically on his lap. He had no issue with her and couldn’t really fault her for thinking he was a safe bet to flirt with, but he couldn’t easily brush her off and say he was seeing someone without raising more questions. Something akin to bitterness brewed in his gut as he had lost sight of Talia a few minutes ago. Savi was angled next to him and blocked out much of the bar. So, he just sipped his drink and nodded along to her, occasionally cracking a small smile if he felt it fit her body language; something he must have been reading too well as she rested her hand on his shoulder.

Fives slid into the seat on the end opposite of Rex, a full drink in hand and a weary yet amused look on his face. Rex shot him a curious glance, to which Fives just replied by shrugging and tilting his head to the side. Brows narrowed, Rex followed the direction of Fives’s motion. What he saw turned his gut and made him clench the empty glass in his hand.

Some trooper Rex didn’t know was looking at Talia like he was clearly trying to undress her with his eyes, and while it irritated Rex, the part that truly grated under his skin was the way Talia batted her eyelashes and twirled her hair as she laughed at something the clone said. Was it just a strobe light hitting her face, or was there are gleam in her eyes as they flicked in his direction, just to flit back to the shiny before she angled herself against the table, pushing out her chest out a bit more, something that worked to its desired effect as the trooper’s eyes immediately tracked to her breasts rounding over the cups of the shirt she was wearing.

One quick glance around the booth proved that Rex was not the only one who had noticed the interaction. Jesse, Kix, and Tup all seemed to try and focus their attention on their own drinks, their eyes still flitting over to Talia’s blatant flirtations as the table grew silent.

“What’s going on?” Savi broke the silence, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the faces of the men around her. Her eyes followed their glances to where Talia stood and a grin broke out on her face, “OK, whose girl is that?”

Rex coughed out, quickly recovering to ask “What do you mean?”

“She has zero interest in the guy she’s talking to,” Savi stated matter of fact. “And she keeps looking over this way, so obviously someone over here isn’t giving her enough attention.”

Rex’s eyes darted back to Talia’s face, now catching how stiff the smirk on her lips seemed to be, how false everything about her movements and body language was.

“’Scuse me,” Rex muttered to Savi, starting to push himself out of the booth. Her eyes widened but she moved for Rex as his steps propelled him to Talia. He gripped Talia’s arm lightly, tugging her to the dance floor.

“Excuse me, I was in the middle of a conversation with-“ Talia started with a false indignancy , only to falter off at the end.

“Wow, can’t even remember his name?” Rex teased as he guided Talia away.

“Well, we hadn’t really gotten that far,” Talia mumbled, shooting Rex a glare, “You seemed pretty comfortable though.”

“Oh, so is that’s what that was all about then?” Rex asked, only to earn a steely glare and pursed lips from Talia.

“Wait, where are we going?”

“I’m taking you for a dance,” Rex answered, smirking down at her, “I’ve seen enough of my brothers occupying your time tonight and it’s my turn.”

“Are you sure?” Talia asked tentatively as her heart skipped a beat; a sort of giddiness filling her mixed with apprehension. “It’s pretty public.”

“You were dancing with Jesse earlier,” Rex pointed out as he nudged their way through the floor, stopping at a spot where they could fit. He took her hand in his and stepped close to her, his eyes melting into hers as he nearly pleaded“Please, give me this moment.”

Fuck, maybe it was the alcohol coursing through her veins, or the way his honeyed gaze took her in, or the way his voice lowly rumbled under the pounding bass, but in that moment, she would have done anything he asked of her. Her hand clasping around his, Talia stepped closer to him, much clumsier than intended as she slipped on the remnants of some spilled drink on the dancefloor beneath her feet.

“Woah there,” Rex said as his free hand gripped her waist to steady her. “How drunk are you?”

“I’m not drunk.” Talia said, only to earn a doubting glance. “Not that drunk.”

“Just drunk enough to flirt with some shinies then?” Rex leaned into her to say as the music kicked up, his tone lacking any anger and containing only the barest hint of teasing. The dancefloor wasn’t exactly ideal for a conversation, but the music switched to a slightly slower tune and there were so many people buffering around them it was almost a veil of privacy. “All because I was having a conversation with another woman.”

“Looked like you were doing more than talking,” Talia huffed. “Fives said you and her used to be…together.”

“Leave it to Fives to embellish things,” Rex muttered under his breath, then addressed Talia softly. “I told you about her; we hooked up a few times early in the war, but it ended quickly and that was it.”

“You don’t wish it was more?” Talia asked, only for Rex’s brows to furrow at her. She exhaled, glancing to the side, watching a couple grinning and laughing at each other as they swayed together only feet away. “It could have been easier. You wouldn’t have to hide or lie to your brothers about who you were seeing. Someone like her could give you more.”

“Talia,” Rex soothingly murmured, calling her attention back to his face, his eyes locked on her own. “I wouldn’t trade this for anything.”

“Are you sure? I mean, she’s also really pretty and I’m sure she’s a much better dancer than I am and-“

Her intoxicated, insecure ramblings were cut off by Rex’s lips silencing the words trying to pour out of her mouth. For a moment her eyes widened in shock, surprised that he would risk this in a public space like this, but she couldn’t help but melt into it, tasting the residual whiskey on his lips as her tongue swept across them. Her hands clasped around his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin against her palms as he held her close. And then, as quick as it began, a wolf whistle sounded near them, and their lips separated.

Rex’s head snapped to the side to glare at the booth of his brothers, trying to judge which one of them had ruined the moment, but the glare created by the strobe lights made it almost impossible to see their faces. Turning back to Talia, he could just make out the dark tint on her cheeks, the way she was biting her lower lip, and how her eyes seemed to shine each time a strobe light moved over them. She released her lip, a cloud of doubt seeming to shadow her expression when Rex interrupted her again.

“I couldn’t want anyone else now that I’ve had you,” he said simply, lowering his head so he could speak lowly and still be heard. “When I see you, it’s like no one else exists. You’re so strong, and smart, and sexy-“

Talia smacked his chest, shaking her head shyly before he caught her hand, caressing his thumb over the smooth skin of her palm.

“I mean it, all of it. I- I really care for you,” Rex said, another word really on the tip of his tongue. But something held him back, maybe because he didn’t want to say it while she was drunk, or while they were surrounded by other people, and maybe because it was something that would have felt so foreign coming from his lips. But in the otherwise dim room, strobe lights bounced different colors along them, casting reflections of blue, green, purple, and red to the beat of the music, Rex’s hand pressed into Talia’s lower back, keeping her close as he swayed with her, his forehead bending down to meet hers. For a moment, they could almost pretend to be any other couple in the room, just basking in each other, away from the war, away from the regulations and codes that said everything they were doing was wrong. Come tomorrow it would be back to professional small talk and stolen glances in hallways, but for now, they could have this moment.

Rex didn’t know how Fives and Talia got that bad.

He knew after dancing, Fives had ordered more shots for the table, and Talia had had a couple after saying she was the one paying for them anyway. But they had to have had more, because they were both barely able to sit upright in the booth, huddled into each other and speaking in what he assumed they thought were whispers but were really just slurred exclamations.

“What are you talking about he’s totally checking me out,” Fives garbled indignantly, his hand gesturing to a corner of the bar where a Twi’lek male sat.

“Just ‘cause you’ve been staring at him,” Talia slurred back, her hand reaching for the glass in front of her that Rex had filled with water moments ago. Anakin sat to Rex’s left; his lips pressed tightly together as he tried to hold in his laughter at the scene in front of him; Rex knew Anakin would not let Talia hear the end of this. In all honesty, Rex was surprised Anakin had stayed out this late; most of the bar was beginning to clear out. But he caught his General fiddling with his comm a few times, and figured he was waiting for a certain senator to be free of her commitments from the event she had to attend tonight. Kix and Agastya were long gone, and Jesse had wandered away with a Zeltron woman a few minutes ago.

“Shit, he probably hasn’t come over here ‘cause he thinks we’re together,” Fives said abruptly. He pressed himself up and shoved Talia sideways in the booth, so she was pressed closer to Rex. “Give me some space, I need to get laid.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen tonight, Fives,” Rex said as his arm rested behind where Talia leaned back. “With how much you’ve had to drink I don’t think your dick will work the way you want it to.”

“You worry about your own dick,” Fives half shouted as Talia giggled.

“He doesn’t have anything to worry about there…” She snorted only to earn a gagging motion by Fives and Anakin shaking his head out.

“OK, I think it’s time we got you back to the Temple,” Rex announced quickly, straightening up in his seat.

“I can’t go back like this!” Talia exclaimed, her eyes rounding as much as they could in her intoxication.

“She has a bit of a point there,” Anakin snorted.

“I can’t exactly sneak her into the barracks like this either,” Rex replied more quietly, his mind flashing with the image of trying to smuggle an intoxicated Jedi into the barracks.

Anakin pursed his lips in thought as his eyes dashed between Rex and Talia, the latter of whom was barely keeping her eyes open as she leaned against the back of the booth. Anakin pulled his comm out and began to type a message.

“I can’t believe you,” Talia mumbled nervously while they rode the lift up the building, the nightlife of the Coruscant skyline blurring behind them. She was slightly more sober now, thanks to some street food she had begged to get as they walked out of 79’s, but she still swayed in her steps and clung to Rex for balance. “I can’t go to a senator’s place like this.”

“It’s alright, Padmé doesn’t mind,” Anakin spoke up, sounding a bit tired but still with enough energy to gloat. Talia glared back at him, but something still wasn’t adding up in her head.

“What do you have on Senator Amidala that she’d let a drunk Jedi crash at her place for the night?” Talia asked.

“Rex didn’t tell you?” Anakin seemed genuinely surprised as he glanced over at Rex, who just shrugged in response as Talia looked up at him arching her brow questioningly.

“Tell me what?”

Before either man could answer, the lift slowed, and its doors opened to the sleek yet lavish penthouse suite belonging to Senator Amidala. Talia had met the senator a few times, and had always liked her; she didn’t have a fondness for politicians in general but felt like the young senator from Naboo was one who truly tried to serve the best interest of the people. The Senator looked ready to retire for the evening, something that made guilt and embarrassment brew in Talia’s stomach as Padmé practically glided toward them, all perfection even in the simple, light robes she was wearing.

“Talia, it’s so nice to see you,” Padmé greeted, a genuine smile gracing her lips as Talia felt inwardly mortified at the current circumstances. Fuck, what had Anakin told her? Hell, she was still confused as to why Anakin reached out to Padmé in the first place as a resort for a place to stay. She knew he had known her for a long time, and when he first came to the Temple it was almost annoying how often he managed to work the then-Queen into conversations, always bringing something up about her. It was even strange now how Anakin’s presence seemed more at ease than she had ever felt it at the Temple. In fact it was somehow stronger, something about him lingering in the air, mingling with the bright aura that accompanied Padmé, something Talia associated with the feeling of someone most at home.

` Wait a minute.

Talia’s eyes darted to Anakin who seemed completely oblivious to the thousands of questions running through her head, but instead of addressing any of them, she returned her attention to Padmé to attempt to act more socially adept than she was feeling in the moment.“Thank you for your kind hospitality, Senator.”

“Please, call me Padmé,” she grinned back, taking Talia’s hands in hers. “The guest room is over here, if you’ll follow me.”

Talia glanced back at Rex with wide eyes for a moment, but followed Padmé’s lead through the apartment. They entered a bedroom, more comfortable looking than any room Talia had ever been in before. A large window curved on the wall, with city lights beaming through the shutters cascading over a large double bed with a plush comforter and more pillows than was probably necessary. Laid flat on the bed was a simple, pale blue silk nightgown.

“I figured you would need something more comfortable to sleep in,” Padmé stated as Talia picked it up, running the shiny, smooth fabric between her fingers. Padmé’s eyes narrowed as she watched Talia lift the fabric, “Sorry if that was an overstep, if you would prefer something else-“

“Oh no, it’s lovely, it’s nicer than anything I own,” Talia cut off the senator, smiling politely as her words were honest. She couldn’t imagine people sleeping in something so fancy, it seemed too nice to just wear to bed.

“Then it’s yours now,” Padmé replied. Before Talia could protest, she waved her off, still smiling that sweet smile, “I insist. And please, make yourself at home. If you need anything at all, you can call C-3PO and he’ll help you.”

“Thanks, you really don’t need to do all of..this,” Talia gestured at the room.

“It’s no trouble, really,” Padmé insisted. “Anakin’s always spoken so highly of you.”

Talia had to resist the urge to snort. While she didn’t necessarily think the senator was lying, she could tell she was embellishing the truth out of politeness. Padmé bid Talia goodnight, and Talia could tell the senator had a few unasked questions of her own for the Jedi. Talia also knew she had her own to ask as well. But there was some sort of understanding in the moment, that some things were better left unsaid.

Talia took advantage of the hospitality provided by the lovely senator, sampling the many different skincare products left in the equally pristine bathroom. The lingering alcohol buzzing in her system made her exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to be in bed, but she couldn’t help but pose in front of the mirror with the silky fabric of the nightgown clinging to her curves. With a yawn, she opened the door back up to the room, surprised to see Rex in the room, shirtless with just a slightly tight pair of soft grey pants on, which she assumed Padmé must have influenced Anakin to lend out. He was folding his officer’s clothing neatly on a lounge chair, next to Talia’s own clothes that he must have picked up from where she discarded them on the floor.

“You’re staying too?” Talia asked, cursing herself a little for stating the obvious. Rex was already nodding as he turned around, his gaze stopping as he caught Talia leaning against the doorway, his eyes roving over her body in the dress before his lips curved as he answered her.

“Unless, of course, you want me to leave?” Rex asked, the low timber of his voice teasing as he stepped towards her.

“I guess it’s fine if you stay,” Talia offered, her back pressed against the doorframe as Rex approached her. Talia couldn’t help the way her eyes dipped down his body, taking in the taut muscles of his abs to the bulge pressing against the fabric of the grey sweats he was wearing.

“Good to hear,” Rex halted in front of her, his hands landing on her waist, scrunching the fabrics of the slip beneath his fingers. He traced a hand up her side, bringing it to fiddle with the thin strap holding the dress up. “This is nice.”

“Oh, you like it?” Talia asked, moving her hand to meet his, guiding it to pull down the strap he was toying with, freeing her breast from the silky cover. Rex inhaled softly, his eyes darkening as they took her in. “I think you would like me better without it.”

“Mesh’la, you could be wearing an outfit made out of flimsi and still be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he said, a mixture of want and adoration in his heady voice. His head dipped down and his lips met hers, his body pressing into hers against the doorframe. Talia clasped her hand on his shoulders, her nails dragging along his skin. She moaned into his mouth as his hand cupped her breast, the calloused skin of his palm teasing her nipple, her body even more sensitive than usual, and craving his touch in her state.

“Is this okay?” Rex pulled back and asked, his eyes searching hers, “You’re not too drunk?”

“You know damn well I would be like this when sober,” Talia retorted, leaning back up to take another kiss.

Rex hummed gently in thought, then smirked down at her. “In that case…”

He grabbed Talia by her waist, her legs wrapping around his hips as he pressed her into the wall, his lips finding a sensitive spot on her neck that always seemed to set her skin ablaze. She sighed into his touch, angling her neck so he could have better access to her. Her hips grinded against him, his half-hard cock rubbing against her core as she groaned. Rex straightened up, carrying her with him as he strolled to the bed, gently tossing her onto the well-made covers where she landed with a yelp. Talia almost felt a little bad for ruining something made-up so beautiful.

Almost.

—

Next Chapter

Additional notes: Thank you all for being so patient with me on this update; turns out a burned hand and stressful work schedule will take away a lot of the time I want for writing! I will say this is the last of the 'fluffy' chapters, but I wanted to give them a little more time together before the war gets back into it's full swing. I got such a mood booster recently on tiktok cause I saw people posting about this? Including a girl who had her BOYFRIEND read it??? Love you all, thank you for the support.

Taglist(dm or fill out the form in my bio if you want to be added): @djarrex @canesjedi31 @justanothersadperson93 @paige6768 @saltywintersoldat @clonecyaree @dinner-djarin @whore4rex @raven--queen @swlover2187 @collectoroffics @pinkiemme @fivesarctrooper @ashotofspotchka @galacticgraffiti @thesithformerlyknownaskenobi @stankferrik @nyravioppri @pinkiemme @fivesarctrooper @twistedstitcher27 @frietiemeloen @galacticgraffiti @a-c-lee @ashotofspotchka @itsagrimm @rexandechosandwich @stankferrik @mavendeb @nyravioppri @immortalhdx

[tiny-maus-boots]

Queen of Hearts pt 14

A/N: thank you as always to @chloes-yellow-cup for being my bestie and still doing all the things i hate to do. and a big thanks to @kimmania for your constant encouragement and supply of Legos. i love you awesome nerds. 

14.

“Hit me with your best shot…”

Aubrey’s long arm stretched out along the back of the dark leather of the modern style sofa she was settled on. For the most part she could tune out the dry croak from the desk, but…

“Why don’t you hit me with your best shot.”

This was the sixth time in an hour that she was hearing the song. She was going to have to remind Lilly to remove it from the jukebox after tonight.

“Hit me with your best shot…”

The rough warble across from her died down and she thought for a moment that the singer had finally drifted off asleep. Aubrey’s head turned to the screen that showed a live feed of the cameras around The Dirty Bird. Movement flickered though them as Stacie and the Doc walked between the tables and around the bar toward the back office. She turned her head to check on the figure standing but slumped over her desk only to find dark blue eyes watching and waiting for her attention. The small woman raised herself to her elbows from her slouch and belted out just as the door opened.

“FIRE AWAAAAYYYYY!!! Pew pew pew.”

Aubrey sighed as Detective Mitchell’s finger guns gave out on the click of her tongue and she collapsed back over the desk to cradle a half empty bottle of grappa, ass up where she stood. Stacie’s wide eyes panned slowly toward her, body bouncing lightly with barely restrained glee.

“Oh my God….” Chloe took one look at the Detective and pinned Aubrey with a glare. “How drunk is she?”

The blonde raised a shoulder as she considered. “She’s been worse.”

“Doc. Doooooocccc….I hurt. Right. Here.” Beca raised a hand and brought it back to point at her butt. Her finger wavered as she tried to locate the exact spot which caused the most pain and then pointed for emphasis with a little too much enthusiasm. “Right. OW. Here. OWIE.”

Stacie eased onto the sofa and settled in comfortably in Aubrey’s lap to watch Doc Beale work. The redhead moved behind Beca and settled her bag on the desk. She took a great steadying breath before wrestling away the grappa from the prone detective and snapping on a pair of gloves. Aubrey admired the way Doc Beale efficiently and deftly managed to get Beca’s jeans over her hips and halfway down her legs with practiced ease. Beca seemed to admire it too because she stirred enough to look blearily over her shoulder with a smile.

“If you wanted to check out my assetsssss Doc, you didn’t have to wait til I got stabbeded in it. Right. There. Ow.”

“Yes, I see. Please stop poking the wound in your ass cheek. How even….?”

“I was tailing my guy. My big fish. Fishy fishy fishy. That’s a fun word to say.” Chloe muttered something Aubrey couldn’t hear over Stacie’s soft chuckling. “I heard that! Plenty of people would be DE-FUCKING-lighted to spend their date night starin’ at a little of this action.”

Aubrey bit her lip to keep the laugh from breaking free as the detective wiggled her ass unmindful of the tight skinny jeans trapping her legs and toppled into a slide nearly off the desk before Chloe managed to grab and right her teetering form.

“Head down, ass up. Now tell me again how you managed to get stabbed in the butt cheek with glass?”

“You said that like you’re used to giving that order. I might be down for that, just be gentle with me.”

Beca gave her a leer that the doctor promptly ignored as she prepped her tools.

“Detective, remember that I have some very sharp instruments here that I am excellent with.”

Beca gave her a dubious look but obediently turned and bent over the desk again so the other woman could examine the wound. Chloe was utterly focused on the task of cleaning and debriding the punctures in a circular pattern. Aubrey had been sure it was going to require at least a few stitches from what she saw before she called for real medical help.

“I told you. I was following the big fish.”

“And you followed him into a bar I’m guessing.”

“Right, rule numero dos of detectivering. Don’t stick out like a sore thumb.”

Chloe blinked and looked up from her work to focus on Beca. “What’s numero uno?”

“That’s not a real number, Doc.”

“Solid rebuttal.”

“Did…did you just make pun of my rump? Oh my God I’m in love. I’d get down on one knee right now and propose. Except you’re feeling up my butt right now and that’s kinda nice.”

The doctor’s bright blue eyes narrowed and she jabbed the needle into the hunk of flesh she had just grabbed in preparation for the injection. She depressed the plunger quickly as her patient yelped and attempted to squirm away.

“HEATHEN! Oh God. I’m dying. Help. I’m dying, Dr. Kevorkian is killing me….my vision…I can’t see.”

“Open your eyes, idiot. That was just an antibiotic booster. Have you had a tetanus shot recently?”

“Pretend I said whatever answer will prevent you from being a literal pain in my ass.”

It was too much for Stacie and she turned her head to bury her laughter in Aubrey’s neck. The blonde tightened her grip on her fiancée and enjoyed a satisfying laugh at the detective’s expense. She hadn’t known what she’d find when she had gotten Beca’s distress call. They had all been on high alert since coming back to Los Angeles, trying to close ranks as best they could without being obvious about it. She had been waiting for an attack to come and her first thought when she had gotten the call was that it had finally begun. Each moment waiting in her office while Lilly retrieved the Detective from her hiding place in an abandoned warehouse building down at the port had been like a stone on her chest. She had needed this humor to ease the cold grip of fear on her heart.

Aubrey’s line of business didn’t lend itself to close relationships with members of law enforcement, at least not for long. What she and the Detective had was something altogether different than any of the other criminal-cop business agreements she had formed during her career. Beca was someone she trusted at her side, more…trusted at her back. The idea that someone would try to take her out was sobering and her laughter faded. Stacie sensed the change in her and cupped Aubrey’s face gently to bring their foreheads together. Words weren’t necessary for Stacie to understand what she was thinking and feeling. The blonde took a deep breath and straightened her spine. One hand came up to adjust and smooth her tie. If it had started…she wanted to know who was coming for her people.

“So, who’s the fish?”

Beca lifted her head from the desk and struggled to focus on Aubrey. It took her a few seconds to process the question. She seemed to have forgotten the conversation while Chloe worked silently to finish working on her wound.

“A security guard. He’s got bad taste in bars and also what I would loosely refer to as ladies.”

She couldn’t imagine where a security guard would fit in with Alice’s plans and frowned. Maybe this wasn’t about her. Beca had other cases she was working, maybe this was just another Tuesday night for the cop.

“A security guard? Sounds kind of small time for you.”

Denim blue eyes flashed to hers, some of the haze of alcohol burned away by intensity of her drive. The small brunette’s lips quirked into a smirk. Aubrey was suddenly very sure that nothing Beca did was small time or without a very good reason.

“It only takes a small stone in the right place to make a rockslide.”

Chloe slowed her movements as she finished her work. Something about what Beca said must have been interesting to the doctor because she kept her attention on the detective while she cleaned up the trash and peeled her gloves off to toss in the black plastic trash bag left there for that purpose. Aubrey guessed she was re-evaluating her previous estimations of the foul mouthed, perpetually smug, woman.

“You’re not wrong, Bec. So, what’s this small stone guarding?”

“Not what. Where. Dude works at the port.” She grunted and stood gingerly with a backward glance at her own butt. “Hm. Nice, think chicks will dig the scar?”

If Chloe had been considering there may be more to Beca than outrageous flirtation it was only a brief passing fantasy. She sighed and rolled her eyes then glared at Aubrey.

“18, Aubrey.” It was almost enough to make her face split into a grin and she had to turn her chuckle into a soft cough. Chloe tied up the bag and dropped it in the trashcan sure that it would be disposed of carefully. It wasn’t the first time she’d had to patch one of them up, they knew the drill by now. “You owe me so big.”

“I’m good for it. So, Detective, what about this dock rat?”

Beca stopped checking herself out long enough to pull her pants up and wink at Chloe before answering. Doc pretended not to notice but Aubrey could see her watching Beca from the corner of her eye while she played around with the tools in her bag.

“When I figure how he connects to Richie Rich, I’ll let you know.”

Stacie’s body tensed in her arms and Aubrey glanced at her curiously. Her girl chewed her lower lip in thought, a habit that Aubrey found adorable. “Something on your mind, Stace?”

“It’s probably nothing. Just something Edith said about someone I went to prom with. His dad got him a job down at the docks.” Stacie shrugged it off but Aubrey could tell she was still chewing on it. “Probably just coincidence.”

Aubrey and Beca exchanged a look. After a lifetime of double crosses and plot twists, neither of them believed in coincidences. The detective dug around in her pocket for her phone. She wasn’t quite sober yet but a hell of a lot steadier than a few moments ago. Aubrey snatched the phone easily out of the air when it was tossed her way and glanced at the screen.

It was a video and she angled it so Stacie could see too. Her fiancée pressed play and sighed. Beca could be heard in the background giving a lot of very specific direction to the two women practically fucking on a pool table in a disgusting looking rathole of a bar. Aubrey was pretty sure the women were hookers and the corner of her mouth quirked in amusement. Stacie took the phone out of her hand turned it to face back to the detective.

“Really Beca?”

“I thought it was pretty good for my directorial debut. But your gutter brain is making you miss the real show.”

Aubrey took the phone back and focused on the whole scene. Behind the women in a shadowed booth two men were clearly having an animated discussion. One was further into the shadow than the other but his gestures were strong and decisive. She watched as the other, younger seeming, man’s gestures became conciliatory and submissive the longer the conversation went on. In the foreground a flurry of noise and activity caused the camera to shake and wildly as if it were being swung around. There were glimpses of rough faces and snatches of shouts and curses. At one point there was a good stretch of scuffed flooring where she assumed Beca had been crawling away from the obvious brawl happening around her.

The camera came up again in time to catch the men leaving their booth in a hurry. Each of them caught in the neon blue glow from beer signs on the walls. Stacie snatched the phone out of her hand and hit pause. Long legs dropped down to the floor from the sofa and she stood in shock.

“Bree…this is Senator Grant. The guy he’s with is his son Kodie, we went to high school...Jesus Christ…”

“You know him?”

“Weston stole his money.”

They looked at each other then turned twin green-eyed gazes on Detective Mitchell. The small woman’s brow was furrowed in thought, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she worried it.

“The kid is on the videos.”

Mitchell didn’t have to say which videos, they all knew. Even Doc Beale. Stacie looked away from them, uncomfortable with the knowledge that she had been in some of those videos. Aubrey let out a long settling breath and stood. She gently took the phone from Stacie’s shaking hand and brought it to lips to brush a soft kiss over Stacie’s wrist. It gave her a wan smile but it was something. Stacie would be okay. Aubrey looked down at the phone and watched the video again. And again. And once more. She studied every gesture, every twitch of posture, every unconscious expression she could make out.

“I want the kid. He’s the weak link.”

Beca grunted and limped around the desk to grab her keys and helmet, ready to go back to work with a hole in her ass nearly as big as the one in her pants. It wasn’t going to happen that way and Aubrey reached out to snag both items from the sidebar and hand them to Stacie who easily placed them on a shelf far too high for Detective Mitchell to reach without finding a stand on.

“White she devil.”

“Sorry, Bec. Can’t have you half-assing anything.”

She didn’t like it and Aubrey could tell but Beca sighed and grunted. “Solid burn.”

Aubrey gave her a quick grin then turned to eye the Doctor who was watching them all curiously. Her gaze met Aubrey’s and a brow went up. Honestly, she almost felt a little bad about needing to have the Doc take Beca somewhere safe. She didn’t ask, she didn’t need to. Chloe knew what she was thinking and started to shake her head no until Beca tried to drag a chair over to the get her stuff.

“I really hate you, Aubrey Posen.”

“No, you don’t, Doc.”

“You WILL be making a very large donation to St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital.”

“Absolutely.”

“And vacation for my office girls. Two weeks!”

“I’ll buy the plane tickets myself.”

“And if she pisses me off just once I will trank her and leave her on a park bench.”

The last was a bluff but Aubrey treated the threat seriously. “Understood. Anything else?”

“….I’ll think of something!” Aubrey bit back another grin and nodded seriously. She slipped her hands into her pockets as the doctor steeled herself mentally to take on Beca. “Come one Detective, as much as this pains me to say…you’re coming home with me.”

Beca dropped the helmet she had finally just retrieved on the ground and left it like discarded trash to limp over to Chloe. “Okay.”

“God…you’re so easy.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, Doc.”

Chloe gave her a final glare and slung the detective’s arms over her shoulder to help her limp out of the office. Stacie settled the length of her body along Aubrey’s back, hands coming up to finger the buttons of her vest.

“How well do you know this Kodie, joker?”

Stacie hmmm thoughtfully. “Not as well as I did in high school. Edith told me he got caught up in some trouble recently. I think I know how we can get to him though.”

“How?”

“He likes cocaine and paying for his um let’s call them dates. I had Happy make some calls for you.”

The smile came to her face easily and she leaned into Stacie’s embrace. This wasn’t anything like what her mom and dad had. Her mother had never been this involved in what her father did for work. She had kept as distant from it as she could, turning her nose up at the family that protected them, running from the darkness of the business. Stacie would never do that to her. She knew it all way down to the bottom of soul. Aubrey turned in her arms and brought their heads together.

“You got more cards up your sleeve than a Vegas croupier, you know that?”

“Hmm. I learned from the best.”

Aubrey closed the distance, her brushing softly over Stacie’s. There were a lot of words she could say about how she felt about the woman in her arms. She could probably write pages on it, but words didn’t matter half as much as action did. She was going to marry this woman and spend her life giving her the best of everything. They were going to be happy and she didn’t care who she had to kill to make it happen.

“Let me take you home?”

“Aubrey…in your arms? I’m already there.”

[yespolkadotkitty]

i think it’s fair to say that i’ve fallen far too in love with your zach one shots — not only do you capture his persona so well, it genuinely feels like i’m watching an episode of brothers & sisters

also, your ricky one shot was also so so so good!! you have no idea how grateful we all are that you pluck these characters from obscurity and portray their defining characteristics so accurately while also adding the loveliest fluffiest fluff of all time

i was wondering if you would consider writing a jealous!zach one shot? ngl, the (mutual) pining mixed with jealousy trope is my guilty pleasure and i feel like jealous zach would be 11/10

anyway, just wanted to say you’re fucking amazing and i adore your writing — i hope you’re having a great day!!

THANK YOU FOR THIS LOVELY ASK

(NB: Ok I know this is not Zach but it COULD be. It’s the right year. There are SO FEW pics of Zach so let’s just go with it).

Words: 1700 ~ Warnings: jealousy, pining, angst, fluff, one awesome kiss

Pairing: Zach Wellison x gn!reader

************

YOU: Is it wrong to be attracted to the super in my building?

BFF: Why would it be wrong? Use it to curry favour! Get stuff fixed faster! What is he/she like?

YOU: Tall. Tanned. Dark blond. Has a tattoo - military maybe? Sexiest voice ever.

BFF: If you don’t get him, I will.

You set your phone down and smiled.

Maybe I should say something.

Zach had been the building super of your apartment block for the last three months. He was a massive improvement on the last guy, who spent his days playing Zelda and smoking weed and very occasionally getting off his ass to fix stuff.

He’d been to your place - conveniently next door to his, he had a live-in type gig - four times. The garbage disposal, the leaky faucet, the faucet again, and then the window.

Notes could be left in his mailbox downstairs by tenants who needed assistance. He always responded the same day, the next day at the very latest, and he always tried to arrange a time with the occupant that suited them.

He’d gotten all greasy and wet fixing the faucet, his plaid button-down clinging to him, and eventually he’d stripped it off, revealing a tattoo you hadn’t been brave enough to try and examine properly, and some serious biceps.

Next time I see him, you promise yourself.

BFF: Btw, what’s happening with the dude at no 16?

YOU: Nothing.

You’d engaged in a mild flirtation with the well-built guy across the hall. Sometimes he got your mail in his box by mistake and he dropped it off, but lately he hadn’t engaged with you, and you began to think he was just being friendly.

The next day, before you could properly think of what to write down for Zach, the washing machine that came with your place started to leak. You noticed when trying to take your clothes out of it.

“Crap!”

Rather than put a note in his box, you knocked on Zach’s door.

He opened it after a minute, surprise sketched on his handsome face, hair ruffled, sweat beading at the neck of his t-shirt. Past him, you could see weight lifting equipment on the floor, along with a small speaker playing 70s rock.

“Fleetwood Mac?” You ask, smiling. “They’re my favourite.”

“No kidding?” A smile tipped up one corner of his mouth. “So... “ His brown eyes met yours, warm, concerned. “Are you okay?”

“I hate to bother you directly, but my washer’s busted - leaking.”

“It’s no bother.” He glanced behind him. “Give me five, okay? I’ll be right there.”

“Thanks so much, Zach.”

He nods and closes the door. You’re about to turn back to your apartment when Well Built Guy - Damon, you think his name is - comes out of his own apartment.

“Hey,” he greets you.

“Oh, hey. How are you?”

He pushes a hand through his short, black hair. His single earring glints in the daylight; gives him a pleasingly piratical look. “I’m good. How are you?”

“Yeah, good - thanks.” You move again.

“Wait.” He takes a step closer in the small hall. “I was wondering if you - if you wanted to get coffee sometime? This place two blocks over does an amazing dark roast.”

“Oh, well-”

You’re cut off when Zach’s door swings open. He’s changed into a clean shirt, a forest-green henley, and he carries a faded red toolbox. His gaze darts between you and Damon, wary, and for a second, his mouth turns down.

As quickly as you see it, it’s gone.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he mutters, to you. “Can I go in?”

“I’ll let you in, Zach.” You turn your attention to Damon.”Catch you later?”

“Sure, sweet thing.”

He’s called you the nickname before but it’s never chafed until today.

Zach doesn’t react as you come to the door and let him in.

“Thanks for coming by so quickly.”

He doesn’t look at you. “You didn’t have to cut your time with your boyfriend short.” He sets his toolbox down by the washer and kneels, unbothered by the pool of water that begins to leech into the pale denim of his jeans.

“He isn’t my boyfriend.”

Zach sets about exploring the washer. “Okay.”

“He isn’t.” You stuff your hands in your pockets. “You want some coffee?”

For the first time, he looks up at you, and the expression in his honey-brown eyes is scraped bare, and then he looks away and the connection is lost. “Sure. Thanks. Black, one sugar.”

You busy yourself, just a few feet away - your kitchen is not big by any stretch of the imagination.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks.” He’s absorbed, only his waist and ass sticking out from the drum of the washer.

You potter off to do some work.

An half hour later, Zach knocks on the door of your tiny office - the only other “room” of your studio aside from the bathroom. 

“All fixed.”

“Thank you so much, Zach.”

He swipes the back of his hand over his forehead, leaving a smear of grease. “No problem.”

“You’ve got a-” You reach up, every nerve on end, wanting to touch him.

A knock sounds at your door.

Dammit.

“Sorry,” you mutter.

You swing the door open and Damon is there with two coffees.

“I was on my way back from the office,” he says. “I thought you might like to - oh, the super’s still there. Not fixed yet, pal?”

Damon says it innocuously but you see Zach’s shoulders tense.

“Nope, all good.” He rubs the palms of his hands together in a “that’s done” gesture. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“... Place next door is this amazing Italian,” Damon is saying, oblivious. “It’s pretty pricey but I’d love to take you there.”

Zach pushes between you and out of the door, but you see the crestfallen set of his shoulders as he goes.

The door swings shut behind him and you turn back to Damon, resigned to see this conversation out, and to make it clear that he’s kind, but you aren’t interested.

*******

That evening, you take the stairs down to the communal gym in your building. Well. Gym is stretching it. There’s one ancient rowing machine, one treadmill, a barbell that has seen much better days, and a CRT TV that only shows Judge Judy. But, you don’t have to pay for it, so it beats a gym contract elsewhere in the city.

When you push through the door, Zach is on the treadmill, earphones in. He’s wearing a sleeveless vest and your gaze is drawn to his intricate tattoo - an eagle perched on a world, an anchor hugging the globe. Marines.

Wow, you think - wow.

Sweat trickles down the back of his neck, and his thick, dark gold hair curls around his nape.

Now or never.

You walk over to the treadmill and drop your gym bag to announce your presence.

Zach turns, does a double take, and then presses a button on the treadmill to slow it down. He pulls his earphones out.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Zach.”

Curiosity flits across his features. “Something you need?”

You swallow. He looks so good, his pale gold skin slick with clean sweat, his breath coming in soft pants, his chest rising and falling, lean muscles delineated by the clinging vest.

“No. I mean, yes.”

“And you can’t get the guy at 16 to help?” he snarks.

You step back.

“Sorry,” Zach says, immediately. “I just…”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you assure Zach.

Above his head, on the TV, Judge Judy silently reprimands a woman with six face piercings.

“He could be. Guy like him. Good job. He’d take you to fancy Italian places.”

You curl your hand around the arm of the treadmill. “Maybe I don’t want to go to fancy Italian places.”

Zach huffs out a breath, but you have his interest.

“Maybe I’d just like to hang out with you.”

Suspicion narrows his eyes. “Why?”

“Maybe I like you? Did you consider that? Maybe, for some bizarre reason, I think you’re nice and attractive?” you wave your arms, frustrated.

Zach folds his arms across his chest, pursing his lips. “I used to be a Marine, but I had to resign my commission because I got hit hard with PTSD. I lived on the street for two years.”

You hold his gaze as he speaks. 

“Why are you telling me this?”

But then you know. He’s telling you so you’ll turn tail and go back to Damon, with his suits and fancy haircut and ability to take you out for $100 dinners.

He expects you to turn him down.

Because that’s what happens. What has happened and what he thinks will happen now.

Zach firms his lips and shakes his head slightly.

“Just go,” he says, so softly, mistaking your silence for pity, rather than resolve.

“No.” Instead, you lean up on your toes and touch your lips to his.

He starts, and then holds perfectly still. You break the kiss, and look up into his face, and he’s gazing at you like you hung the moon and all the stars.

“I like you, Zach,” you whisper. “And I don’t care if our first date is a picnic in the park.”

He blinks, turning away from you for a second, and then he ducks under the arm of the treadmill, and he’s so close that you breath catches. 

“I’ve thought about this,” he murmurs, and then he cups your face in his hands and kisses you like he means it, lips and teeth and tongue, and it’s everything.

You spear your fingers into his hair and breathe him in, press yourself against the hard wall of his chest, sigh his name against his lips.

“I gotta shower,” he says, with clear reluctance, his voice half an octave lower, unsteady from a kiss that has rocked both your worlds. “Then, let’s see about that picnic.”

**********

Zach Pit & permanent taglist: @mrschiltoncat @astroboots @songsformonkeys @biblioworm @aeryntheofficial @thirstworldproblemss @wheresarizona @pedropascalito @knittingqueen13 @alwaysbethewest @agirllovespancakes @f0rever15elf @heatherbel @frannyzooey @lannister-slings-and-arrows @sarahjkl82-blog @thedazeinmylife @holographic-carmen @idreamofboobear @fromthedeskoftheraven @disgruntledspacedad @chicken-nugget-puta @miulola @nelba @alienprincesspoop @tardisfangurl @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @mylonelylittleappreciation @filthybookworm @absurdthirst @thestrawberry-thief @lilangeldevil006 @marydjarin @jedi-mando @havenforafrazzledmind @myoxisbroken @10-96dispatcher @stormtrooperofficerbrowneyes @mrsparknuts @roxypeanut

[methoxyethane]

Someone had been creeping up on Lance’s high scores lately.

Lance had been going to this arcade since he was ten years old, back when all the best games were just being installed like Ms. Pac-Man and Galaga. Now half the games had changed but Lance’s favorites were still around, and he had been working on beating his own high scores for the last seven years - as well as mastering every new game that came in.

Lance was so familiar with this arcade, his home turf, that he even knew all of the regulars by face, and most by name. So when a new guy started looming around and a new set of initials started climbing their way up the leaderboard, it was easy to connect one dot with two.

The guy he suspected was here now, focused on a game of Afterburner, leaning over the game just enough to make his red leather jacket ride up so Lance could see the shape of his ass in tight black denim. Not that Lance typically spent a whole lot of time looking at dude’s asses, but. When perfection was in front of you, it warranted notice.

Speaking of perfection, this guy was totally making Afterburner his bitch. Lance watched him from behind, annihilating enemy ships and smoothly flying through the skies, dodging enemy fire without so much as skimming the ground as it flipped upside down and back again.

“You’re pretty good,” Lance said after a while, leaning up against the arcade machine to get his attention. “You’re KKS, right?”

The newcomer - KKS - nodded. “Keith Kogane-Shirogane,” he said, eyes not peeling away from the screen as he blew a dismissive bubble of pink gum out of his mouth.

Lance whistled. “Quite a mouthful. Mind if I just call you Keith?”

“If you feel the need to talk to me,” was Keith’s clipped reply.

Lance grinned to himself. He wanted to be annoyed at this guy's dismissive attitude, but instead all Lance could think was that that eyeliner looked really cute on him. Made him look like some kind of hard rock punk kitten. Even his standoffish vibe was kind of working for Lance.

Did he dare try to pick up a dude at his regular hangout spot, though? Did he want everyone in the arcade to know he liked men?

“What about you?” Keith asked through his bubblegum. “You got a name, or are you just some kind of creep?”

Yeah, fuck it. If anyone noticed him hitting on Keithy-kitten here and didn’t like it, they could just fuck right off. This was Miami, baby, and anything rolled in the City of Magic. “I’m Lance,” he said, still torn between watching the Afterbuner game Keith was wrecking and Keith’s face as he did it. “Also known as ‘LEM.’”

“I figured,” Keith said, and Lance watched as he divebombed into the ground to take out his last two lives and finish up the game. “If you were anyone else, you wouldn’t be strutting around like you own the place.”

He punched in his initials and finally turned to regard Lance, eyes flickering up and down Lance to give him a good once-over. “So tell me what’s up, Lance? Just come over here to ruin my concentration?”

“You were doing just fine even with me here,” Lance said easily. “I was just wondering if you wanted to play doubles with me. You know, partner up for a few rounds.”

Keith’s bubblegum snapped as he considered, before he shrugged. “If you got the quarters.”

Lance grinned. They went for Pac-Man first, Lance paying for Keith’s game as they both started up on opposite ends of the screen. And if one of them individually was good the two of them together were phenomenal, blasting through levels at top speed and racking up points like they were nothing.

Lance bumped his hips against Keith’s multiple times while they were playing, using the loading screens between levels to flirt with Keith and generally brush against him as much as possible.

They switched over to Galaga after a while, but multiplayer on this game was just taking turns. It left Lance with more time to concentrate on flirting with Keith, testing the limits of what the other gamer would put up with in terms of Lance’s bad pick up lines. Keith didn’t talk much, still chewing absently on his gum as he annihilated his turn at the game, but he didn’t tell Lance to fuck off and sometimes he’d lightly kick at him or bump his hip against Lance’s, which Lance was fairly confident to be his way of flirting back.

“You know, most guys would probably throw the game so I can get my turn faster. If they were trying this hard to impress me.” Keith mentioned idly, leaning against the machine as he waited for his turn.

“How’s that supposed to impress you?” Lance said back, taking his eyes off the game long enough to glance at Keith. “You want someone who will lay down at your feet, or someone you can actually play with?”

Keith smirked, and it looked like Lance had passed whatever test he was playing at. So Lance made his move, abandoning the game mid-level to turn to Keith and ask, “So what does it take for a guy to get your phone number, then?”

Keith stared at him for a long second, considering. Then, he pointed to the wall behind the counter, declaring, “I’ve had my eye on that pink hippo on the wall. Win it for me, and I’ll go out with you.”

Lance’s eyes widened. The hippo on the wall was no joke - the thing was massive, a cheerful pink plush monster with huge smiling jaws, and it cost 3,000 tickets to win.

They’d already earned a few tickets just from goofing off all night. And Lance still had a stash of tickets of his own just from coming here so often, which meant…

Lance nodded firmly. “I’ll win it for you before this place closes tonight.”

A thick black eyebrow raised. “You think you can do it all in one night?” He said, genuinely interested for the first time all night.

“I can’t let you get away, can I?” Lance grinned at him. “I won’t get a chance like this again.”

Keith smiled, leaning himself against the wall. “Well then. I gotta see this.”

It did in fact, take all night. Lance started with skeeball, because it was a fast way to wrack up tickets with his perfect aim. Keith even had the decency to look impressed as Lance scored bullseye after bullseye, until his arms got tired and his aim started to falter.

Other than that his best two games were Duck Hunt and Donkey Kong, and a few hours straining his eyes on each and he finally had the tickets he needed. He slammed them down on the counter fifteen minutes before closing time, pointing to the hippo on the wall with a grin that bordered on feral.

And then the best part happened. Lance handed the stuffed animal off to Keith, who took it iot his arms with wide eyes and a slight bush tinging his cheeks.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you actually got it for me,” he said, actual human emotion in his voice for the first time all night. “It’s so cute…” he rubbed his face against the doll’s, smiling happily as he declared, “And so much softer than he looks. I thought it would be cheap for sure but this is actually a really nice plush.”

He stopped cuddling the doll to blink up at Lance, his blush fully overtaking his face. “I suppose this means I owe you a date.”

“If you have the time,” Lance said casually, fully enjoying everything he learned about Keith as they got to know each other. He knew the guy was cute, but he hadn’t expected THIS level of adorable.

Keith used the free hand not currently cradling an oversized plush to flip his hair off his neck. “You can start by walking me home.”

Offering his arm, Lance escalated his date out of the arcade. “After you, my lovely.

Behind them, the guy at the ticket counter rolled his eyes. No one noticed.

—

[xnchxntmxnt]

HEY it's me here for the event <33

So fandoms is just Sk8 the infinity, and if you're doing yoi then that too but otherwise just the one is fine also I'd preferably like a dude

So that's the outift im SORRY it's all black but i wore it recently and i rlly liked it so it's the first thing that came to mind

Totally unrelated to the event but this is the pair of shoes I'm wearing in that outfit and I'm in Love with them probably my fav pair shoes

So uh yea these ^ shoes with black pants, a white tshirt with a printed tie tucked into the pants, and a black denim jacket over top. Also a black knitted belt. I always wear those bracelets and like, a normal watch.

Ah personailty. I'm that generally nice guy that noone rlly has any beef with but who's not like, one of the popular kids uk? Not very talkative but that's only around new people. In contrast, I'm probably the most talkative one within my friend group lol.

I LOVE reading I've loved it ever since i was a toddler. I don't have a fav genre, as a kid i would read literally anything, from encyclopdias to kids books to classics to even this one big book about herbal medicine that i read for some reason? I don't even remember what was in it but it was rlly cool.

I have a system where my tbr list doubles as my book ranking list. My highest ranked books tend to be those that make me cry a Lot. So books like The Song Of Achilles, aaddtsotu, No 6, Circe, A Thousand Boy Kisses.

I'm a hoe for animation, and I don't watch live action movies/series alot. When i was younger it was disney pixar etc and now I watch anime. I still love disney pixar movies tho, and im always down to watch a classic like Mulan or newer movies like Luca or Encanto (three of my favourite films of all time btw). I prefer animation to live action because it has this sense of wonder and fantasy and excitement that you can't replicate with live action, and that's what i rlly enjoy abt it.

I loove music, i play the uke guitar and piano, tho I'm not Amazing at any of them. My fav artist is Taylor Swift. I don't support Celebrity Stan culture and I don't follow her life too intensely, i just find out stuff by filtration from my mutuals/friends lol. That being said, i think Taylor is so incredibly talented and her music never ever fails to make me feel a whole slew of emotions.

I also have adhd and it messes w my life in some ways, makes it more interesting in other ways. I Cannot hold a topic I go on multiple tangents, i have the short term memory capacity of a spoon, i cannot sit still and am always fidgeting , I'm hypersensitive to sudden sounds, but im also unable to function in total silence. School was weird cuz I'd never be able to pay attention in class or while studying normally but sometimes I'd hyperfixate on my studies for hours on end and so I'd do fairly well anyway.

I'm bisexual grayro! I'm aromantic in the sense that I don't feel romantic attraction, but i still wanna be in a romantic relationship someday (btw I am taking this event date as romantic not platonic). I'm also into boys girls and anything else, although i have a preference for guys.

I love being alone and left to do my own thing, but i hate feeling lonely or isolated. Which is smn my friends understand, so we don't talk a whole lot, but whenever we do it's so refreshing and the love between us is so palpable uk?

I watch documentaries in my free time! I especially love ones about history, which is one of my favourite subjects. I'm not TOO interested in war history, although its important and just as significant. I'm more interested in the development of society through the ages and the small quiet revolutions that made the world what we know today.

UHHHH that got longer than i meant it to but yea!! This was so fun thank u :)) hope u had fun reading all that!

i just have to say i was gonna text u this but i just. i love listening to people ramble like this its so fun because i love when people just. talk. especially about themselves. all these cool little things i now know about you i just. yes. i love it i love all of this its such a cool thing to me

ramble over. thANK YOU FOR SINGING WITH ME AT THIS <333 i did not even have to think about this matchup i got about halfway through ur submission before i was like lol i have the perfect idea

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡... 𝐑𝐄𝐊𝐈 𝐊𝐘𝐀𝐍

kjgbkjdbg suit for him <3

the tie disappears after about 5 minutes he HATES ties. anyway

little different than others: you guys didn't actually meet here

you two had kinda been seeing each other for a little while but nothing was super formal or official

but you wanted to bring him because 1) you found out his friend was gonna be there too 2) gave you a chance to vibe a while yknow?

so reki's your plus one going into this

dude was SO nervous he was calling langa in a panic trying to figure out how to style his hair and what he was supposed to be wearing and all this other stuff

poor dude

but hey, he showed up, he looks great, its awesome

you told him beforehand that you were going in early bc music setup n stuff

he decided to come around the time everyone else was supposed to be there & just come by himself

hung out w langa and his girlfriend until yours truly makes their entrance

oh boy this dude was AWESTRUCK when it was music time

i've got this idea in my brain that like. i od a song then we do a song? said song is lover

he was vibing w the music for a while yk and then you started singing

lets just say dude went as red as his hair

he gives me the vibes that he'd have a thing for musicians or just people that can sing well

so like every gay panic siren was going off in his head when he heard you sing

finally music stuff was done

time to eat

before you could even get to the table reki ZOOMS over to you and is geeking out

incomprehensible rambling

he's just !!!!!

but overall he's just like ,NGNMJBHDGJNH BLUE THAT WAS SO GOOD

expect to be almost trampled in a hug

he will hug you

<333

so anyway you go through dinner

congrats you officially met langa + his girlfriend koi (who also participated in this lol)

however

ur probably halfway through a conversation and reki hears a song that he likes and makes u dance w him

he's never been one for social standards anyway he doesn't care if it seems rude its only langa

and he wouldn't care

he knows he wouldn't

so now ur cute redhead is pulling you onto the dance floor

he cannot dance but its okay!! he's trying. just vibe with him and let him spin you and spin him and he'll be smiling and laughing at you all night

that's all I've got but he's whipped for u and know that either that night or soon after u two make it official he had so much fun w you that he probably asked you night-of or the day after

[canary3d-obsessed]

Shen Wei Serving Lewks, Part 7

(Masterpost)

Look 30

Swamp coat...no wait, hang on.

Upon close inspection, this is not Swamp Coat, but a different loose trench coat in Swamp color. What the fuck, Shen Wei! Borrow one of your boyfriend’s coats again, pretty please?

Both times this tunic/coat outfit has appeared on Shen Wei, Zhao Yunlan was wearing this gorgeous tailored denim number, with perfectly fitted shoulders and a nipped in waist. Sigh.

Anyway, Swamp Coat 2.0 is nicer than 1.0, and Shen Wei is wearing it with a with an immaculate super-casual loose white tunic with a band collar, so he looks beautiful even though this ensemble is decidedly meh. 

As Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan get closer, Shen Wei’s wardrobe becomes looser and more casual, which is probably good for his psyche so...okay. 

In addition to layers of loose fabric, this look features a checkered nosebleed hanky and the angriest face he has ever turned on Zhao Yunlan. 

Along with definitely not kissing

(More behind the cut!)

And definitely not having a massive grope session like the last time Shen Wei got between Zhao Yunlan’s knees on this lab table.

Once the anger passes, however, this is a very good look for making out in a taxi with a boy who has excellent taste in coats. 

Bonus Look 2: ZY’s Turn to Be Angry

This look belongs to Zhao Yunlan, who is wearing a single soft layer with a wide exposed neck so he can have an intense argument and hand touching with Shen Wei. This is Zhao Yunlan’s at home look, without the extra layer (vest or jacket, in a tough fabric) he always wears except when he’s alone with Shen Wei.

Shen Wei is like, no it’s fine honey, slicing my arm open is just a thing I do so I can eventually die spectacularly.  Also I drained my life force for you, don’t make a big deal of it you know I hate when you make a big deal of things. 

For once Zhao Yunlan gets to be the overprotective, upset partner in the relationship and also maybe the big spoon for a change. In keeping with his personality, he expresses himself explosively... 

...while Shen Wei quietly leaks out emotions like the black smoke leaking from his wrist.

This is Zhao Yunlan without his armor, his swagger, his smile; this might be the only time he is as vulnerable with Shen Wei as Shen Wei (always) is with him. 

Look 31

Shen Wei wears his blue double-breasted wedding crasher suit to begin his long, long relationship with this pillar.

This look features chains, more chains, and long conversations with ridiculous smoke effects. 

Bonus Look 3 - ZY Rescue Trench

Now THAT is a trench coat. Do you hear me, Shen Wei's Swamp Coats?

Hilariously, we are meant to believe this superbly fitted coat with its itty bitty waist and this perfectly sized gun belt are what Zhao Yunlan took off of this schlubby guard. Zhao Yunlan DOES have magic powers! 

This is a good outfit for convincing your lover to give up his relationship with a malevolent pillar and come home with you. 

Did I hastily photoshop Smoke Dude out of that rescue picture? I did.

Is this just a gratuitous picture of freshly-unchained Shen Wei looking upset and Zhao Yunlan comforting him? It is. Shout out to all the H/C fans!

Look 32

This look is a grey suit with a white grid pattern, and striped red and blue accent fabric on the pocket and under the collar.  This was briefly featured way back in the trauma cake arc. Here Shen Wei is also wearing a fresh cravat in grey tones. 

Shen Wei had been wearing a narrower range of outfits lately because he doesn't have enough drawers at Zhao Yunlan's place, so he must have made a brief stop at his apartment to get some more things. 

At home with Zhao Yunlan, Shen Wei wears this look with a bare face and neck, chilling in his white shirt with the collar stiffeners. I'm going to call them that forever; you can't stop me.  Note how the shirt has darts (the vertical seams from his shoulder blades to his waist) so that it fits perfectly across the back.

This is a good look for lovingly preparing fresh fruit for your candy-addicted beloved and then watching him while he sleeps. 

Shen Wei’s ass is now chainless, alas, but these trousers are doing yeoman’s werk work.  

While Zhao Yunlan sleeps, Shen Wei takes the opportunity to check up on his special pendant necklace that he bought at a bong shop when he was in college.

Back in the full ensemble, Shen Wei is ready to have a haberdashery throwdown with his jerkass father-in-law, who normally has serious game in a plum coat and patterned vest.  

Today Pop Zhao has unexpectedly said “fuck it” and worn a brown sweater and beige trench. 

Don’t encourage Shen Wei’s boring taste in coats, Pop Zhao!

After easily winning the best-dressed award at tea, Shen Wei accessorizes his look with cheekbones that could cut glass, and his best “oops, busted” face when Zhao Yunlan sees him hanging out with the parent ZY hates so much that he has the same job and facial hair as him.

That leads to a wonderfully layered interaction, in which Shen Wei just kind of stands in front of Zhao Yunlan refusing to engage with his need for control, while Zhao Yunlan roasts Shen Wei for being untrustworthy...and then offers him a ride back to the office.

Guardian is so good at capturing the constantly-fluctuating state of a deep relationship, in which you can be fighting on one level and totally fine on another level; where you’re going to have a donnybrook with your lover but first you’re going to get a decent meal into them. 

Skipping!

We’re skipping over the increasingly bloody tee-shirt ensemble that appears in the final episodes. That look says, “anti-gay narrative tropes suck.” 

Instead, check out this beauty that Shen Wei wore for one poorly-lit scene early in the show. This is the only time he wears a fully-matched 3-piece suit and he SLAYS in it. And then puts it in mothballs forever. 

I guess when you’re wearing an outfit the first time your sweetheart breaks into your apartment and disorganizes your panty drawer, you only want to wear it for the most special occasions after that. 

Look 33

After a bunch of unnecessary yet compellingly-acted death, Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan meet up outside of time and space in a Windows 95 screensaver.  

[That is a Gen X joke. OP is old.] 

Shen Wei’s look for this meeting is the same one he wore the day they met in the modern world - the double-breasted 10-button vest, with arm garters and now also (SIGH) tears in his eyes. Instead of that, here is an infinite loop of Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan talking over dinner in their kitchen, because screw Episode 40. 

Look 34

Exiting the screensaver, Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan fall out into the AU of your choice, because they realize that they left the wormhole together last time so it shouldn’t be too difficult to leave it together this time. They can just hold hands while they leave, for fuck’s sake. 

In the AU of your choice they get married in these beautiful suits, as seen in Bazaar magazine. 

Shen Wei’s look here features tousled hair and the glasses-free look he prefers when he’s with his true love. This is the first black suit we’ve seen him in, and he’s doing fine work in it, particularly with the gold bola thingy he’s wearing at the collar.  Zhao Yunlan is so hot here that only Shen Wei dares to touch him.

Look 35

For the beach party they throw for their AU friends and neighbors a month after the wedding, (also courtesy of Bazaar’s photoshoot) Shen Wei chooses this short-legged suit with white canvas shoes, a lovely display of calf and a sprinkling of leg hair. 

This look says, I love you forever and I'm pretty sure I can give you a spinal adjustment using only my leg muscles. 

Shen Wei has replaced his bong-shop pendant with a tasteful diamond bar necklace, which was an apology gift from Zhao Yunlan after ZY intentionally accidentally set fire to Swamp Coats 1 through 4. 

Near his heart Shen Wei is wearing a tie pin (sans tie) that’s made out of a lollipop stick. 

Preview

The next post features Shen Wei’s cosplay looks including Black Robe Envoy and Ye Zun! 

[hargrove-mayfields]

A Password And A Promise

💕 Happy Valentine's Day!!! You guys are all my Valentines, thank you, thank you, thank you so much for all the positive reception! 💕

It’s day five of the week of love and today’s prompt that I chose was Snuggling for Warmth!! Read here or on ao3 at ej_writer !

Word Count: 3,649

Rating: T

First winter in the Midwest, and Billy’s been out in the snow for hours on end.

He’d like to say that he has no idea why he’s doing this, but he does. Chief Hopper asked him to.

As if his record wasn’t already bad enough, with the fights and the vandalism and all the other bad things he’d done since his arrival in Hawkins, he just had to go and get himself a DUI charge.

He’d been speeding off to some middle schoolers house, schnockered after a party to pick his sister up when he got pulled over. He’d begged the chief to let him off easy, promised he’d never pick up another bottle if it meant that the DUI didn’t make it on file.

And the chief, he understood that. He’d been the one to ask Billy a few questions when he was admitted to the hospital in mid-November and a nurse, recognizing the signs of abuse, asked him to come check it out. Despite Billy’s best efforts, the Hopper’d wormed it out of him that his father had been the one to land him there.

So when he made his plea, it didn’t take much convincing to get him to help him out.

Still, he couldn’t justifiably let Billy walk away unpunished for driving drunk, especially being that, with the new legislation Indiana was rolling out, he was now way under the age limit. To compromise, he opted to make him do community service instead.

Had Billy known how that would turn out for him, he might’ve rather just taken the beating for the DUI than doing three hours of shoveling sidewalks. A kick to the ribs or a punch to the jaw probably would’ve hurt less than the ache in his bones, feeling more and more like they were made out of heavy lead, or the sting of the cold air on his fingers and on his face.

For as many years as he had lived in California, he’d never seen snow stick to the ground for more than a few minutes, if at all, and he’d definitely never had to wear more than a jacket to protect himself from cold weather.

Now, having underestimated just how cold snow could actually get, he was freezing his ass off. He didn’t even have a stupid pair of gloves or anything, mouthing but a layer of thin denim to protect him from the record low temperatures.

Just because the universe hated him, the beating down snow wouldn’t slow down either. Not only were his clothes getting soaked completely through, his jacket a sopping mess and his boots more like rain barrels than shoes, but basically every time he cleared a sidewalk off, it'd be covered again before he reached the end.

Under all that snow, it was icy as all hell too, getting more so by the minute. Biker boots weren’t designed to walk on ice, and apparently nobody around these parts was decent enough to even sprinkle out a little ice melt before a storm, so more than a few times, he’d hit an icy patch and wipe the hell out. Thanks to a combination of the sun going down so early and the bitter freezing temperatures, there was nobody around to watch his feet go out from under him, but it still hurt like a son of a bitch.

He was worn down the bone by the time he finally reached Loch Nora, the first place where he could catch a damn break. Everyone up in that little neighborhood was rich enough to pay their lawn boys to scrape and salt the sidewalks for them, and didn't need some scraggly teenager avoiding a criminal record to do it for them.

Without doing any work it got even colder, and he was pretty sure he was going to get hypothermia and keel over in some hoity-toity’s lawn. His hair was frozen, his lungs burned from the cold air leaving him unable to catch his breath, and his teeth were chattering. He thought that shit only happened in the cartoons.

Billy's starting to realize that when Hopper had told him five hours, he probably hadn’t meant all at once. But nobody told him that the weather could be like this, he thought he would just be able to get it all out of the way now, when he could be certain there even was snow to shovel and no Boy Scouts giving him a run for his money.

Too bad he’d probably freeze to death before he finished.

But before that can happen, he’s intercepted by the double doors at 8253 swinging open, nearly jumping out of his skin when the wind catches it and hits it off the side of the house.

Were it literally anybody else shouting to him from their stoop, he’d have just kept walking. But the boy who lived in the mansion at 8253 was none other than Steve Harrington, who called out to him over the wind, “Billy? What the shit are you doin’ out here, man?”

Steve Harrington, who had apologized first for Billy kicking his ass, and started hanging out with him before the scars even healed. He apparently had the superpower to make friends with absolutely anybody, even difficult bullies who made every effort to keep him from doing exactly that.

Don’t get him wrong, being buddy-buddy with Steve Harrington was definitely something he was interested in, but he wasn’t a fan of the way he pretended absolutely nothing was wrong after they fought. He’d concussed him, had to be drugged before he’d stop beating him, and Steve still was the first to reach out.

There had to be some sort of a catch to that kindness, and Billy just wasn’t looking to get too attached.

And yet, Billy stopped for him, when he called out, so maybe it wouldn’t have been entirely truthful to say that he was particularly bothered by Steve’s persistence. If you pressed him hard enough, he might even admit he thought it was kind of endearing.

“Just doing my civic duty, Harrington.” He could kick himself for how weak his voice sounds.

“It’s below zero, Billy. Why don’t you come in?” There’s something like concern in the way he says it, and it makes Billy want to walk away.

“I’ll pass.”

But Steve’s not having it, puts a hand on his hip. “I think the fuck you won’t. Get in here man.”

Billy might be stubborn, but Steve won’t take no for an answer. He knows when he’s lost, so he shoves the handle of the snow shovel towards Steve, who rolls his eyes and takes it, leaves it lean beside the door, and shoulders past Steve into his mansion, instantly feeling like he was melting in the dry warmth that radiated from the house.

Steve shuts the door behind them and hangs his scarf on a coat rack by the door. His boots and coat follow, and he makes Billy do the same. They both grimace at the puddle of water that spills out of Billy’s boot when it tips over.

“Jesus dude, how long were you out there?”

Billy shrugs, winces at the movement of sore shoulders, and lies. He wouldn’t want Steve to make a fuss if he knew. “Dunno. Lost track of the time.”

“Wait here, I’ll be right back.” Steve plods up carpeted steps, leaving Billy to stand awkwardly on the door mat so he doesn’t drip all over the hardwood floors.

He takes the moment alone to take in his surroundings.

The Harringtons were more than well off, everybody knew that, but being inside of their house, their goddamned mansion, is nothing like Billy expected.

Just from where he’s standing at the door, he can see a living room furnished with big plush couches and a TV in an entertainment center the size of the whole wall. Across from it is the entrance to a dining room with more chairs than a family of three needed at a long table, chandelier overhead.

There were potted plants in every corner and paintings and family photos hung on every wall. Knick-knacks, probably all ordered from some magazine like his own step mom would day dream about shopping from, adorned every last unaided surface, from the huge console record player to every side table and wall shelf.

The longer he looked though, the more Billy noticed all the little things, like cobwebs in the high corners, and dust built up on the wax fruit, the 1979 time stamp on the most recent of their family photos. It wasn’t hard to piece together that this place was just a set.

Suddenly the obnoxiously high ceilings and the fancy decorations felt a lot less like grandeur, and a lot more suffocating. Billy felt bad knowing Steve was here all the time by himself, the sole pretender playing this part of the perfect family.

But then he’s brought out of his reflections by Steve hurrying back down the steps with a neatly folded stack of clothes in hand that he’s shoving towards him.

“The hell are these?”

“A change of clothes.” Billy just looks at him, scrunching his nose at the suggestion, and still won’t take them. “Dude you’re soaked to the bone, you’ll never get warm if you don’t get outta those clothes.”

Billy smirks, raises an eyebrow, but he takes the clothes.

Steve, realizing he could’ve worded that a little better blushes, just the faintest dusting of pink on his pale cheeks. “Shut up man. Bathroom’s down the hall to the right.”

Even the Harrington’s bathroom is the pinnacle of wealthy interior design. Not only is the room as big as Billy’s entire living room, but it’s just as overly designed as the rest of the house.

The walls are black and gold, marbled in the most gaudy flaunting of money Billy’d ever seen. A huge clawfoot tub was settled in the counter, framed by beige tile counters. There was a mirror surrounded by lights right above the sink that spanned almost the entire wall. It felt like something straight out of a magazine. Hell, it probably was.

Even the bathroom in this place makes Billy feel out of place, the luxury of it all so much unlike what he was used to.

It’s warm in the bathroom, the shut door and the smaller space collecting keeping the heat in, and it makes his clothes start to feel gross on his skin, way too cold in contrast. He swallows his pride and looks at what Steve gave him to change into.

There’s two shirts, a henley and a drug rug, a pair of fleece pajama pants, and some fuzzy hospital socks with the grips on the bottom.

Before he puts his shirt on, he notices there’s bruises on his shoulders, on his back and his elbows, from the many times the ice had sent his feet out from under him, but honestly, it gives him this strange sense of pride, knowing he put them there himself.

He was more than used to marks on his skin, put there by an angry father and his rage, so it was a welcome change to know he’d just gotten these ones just from being clumsy. He almost didn’t want to cover them up, but another shiver ran up his spine, causing goose pimples to pop up all over his body, and he elected to slip the two shirts Steve had picked for him over his head, just to keep himself from freezing.

Wearing Steve’s clothes makes him look soft in every way that was not like him. Without his usual denim and leather, he just looked like the boring version of himself. No longer the stereotypical image of high school bad boy he tries so hard for, he just plain old Billy.

He likes it. A lot. Stares at himself in that huge mirror for longer than is probably considered normal before deciding he should leave the bathroom.

Back in the living room, there’s a huge glass protected fireplace on the far wall, in front of which Steve’s on his knees currently trying, and failing, to start a fire up in. At home, all Billy had was a dinky plug in fireplace that stank like hot dust, but he knew how to start a fire regardless.

He’d been there when his father burnt all of his mother’s things she’d left behind.

“You need a starter.”

Steve jumps, apparently having not noticed Billy coming into the room. “What, like gas?”

“Jesus Christ, no, not like gas. We're inside, doofus.” He has to laugh at Steve’s incompetence, but he offers his help. “You have any of those bricks?”

“These?” Steve opens a drawer beside the fireplace full of fire starters, and Billy realizes this is just another piece of the set. He’d be the first person to actually use this fireplace in years, if anyone even ever had before him.

“Yeah, those.” He confirms, but Steve just sits there, doesn’t know what to do with it. “Just put it under the wood and light it.”

“Huh.” Steve looks at the fire he made, seemingly a little surprised that it worked, brushes his hands on his pants and turns to Billy. He looks him up and down, taking in how he looked in the change of clothes and grins as he says, “You look cozy.”

Billy, trying to make up for the way his heart starts pounding from the observation, bites back, “And you look like a gracious host who’s going to make me a hot coffee.”

Steve looks like he thinks for a second before he asks, “Would you settle for hot cocoa?”

“I don’t care, long as it’s warm.”

Billy waits until Steve disappears around the corner into the kitchen before he sits down cross legged on the floor in front of the fire place.

The warmth of the fire radiates over him in a way that brings feeling back to his body, is almost soothing.

When he was little, he could remember having bonfires on cool summer nights out back of their first house in California. The lick of the flames against wood, the way the bright tendrils of fire would dance used to be so calming. He’d always fall asleep outside in a canvas lawn chair, and wake up the next morning tucked into his bed.

But the heat is too much, makes his skin itch, burning from the inside out in a way that wasn’t so pleasant.

He remembers his father, drunk off his ass, dragging him out to that same fire pit by his arm, leaving welts on soft skin, forcing him to watch as he burned every memory they had of his mother. Every picture, every possession, every shred of clothing, burnt to ash until there was nothing left but her voice on the other end of a telephone, and even that stopped after a little while.

He doesn’t notice Steve come back from the kitchen, he’s too caught up in the flames, curling up around the wood and leaving burnt destruction in its wake.

Too entranced by the fire warming him up and freezing him over at the same time. The brightness of it leaves black and pink spots on his vision from how intensely he’d been staring.

“I didn’t have any marshmallows so I-” Steve stops talking when he sees Billy, sees that he’s crying, sitting stock still and just, staring into the fire place. “Oh.”

Billy startles from the sound of his voice, blinks too fast, trying to chase away the splotches of light burnt into his eyes. The action forces him to realize there are tears wetting cheeks, which he wipes at a little too aggressive with his sleeve, hoping Steve won’t say anything.

And he doesn’t, he just reaches down and hands him a mug, not letting go until Billy's got both hands on it and he’s sure he won’t drop it. Billy hadn’t noticed himself shaking until he saw the way the cocoa rippled in the red mug.

Steve clears his throat, trying to think of the right thing to say. “You still cold?”

“No shit. I was out there for three hours.” It’s harsh, overcompensating for sure.

Steve nods, but points out his inconsistency. “I thought you lost track of time?”

“My brain thawed out and I remembered.” He mumbles. It makes Steve laughs, and Billy’s heart feels like it could burst.

“Well, I have some extra blankets and stuff, if you’re still cold.” Steve offers, and Billy nods in response, as if to say that that sounded nice without out actually having to admit anything.

But Steve doesn’t make any moves to go get it, just stands there shuffling his feet and looking down into his cocoa. Billy can already tell he’s going to say something that he doesn’t want to hear.

Before Steve can embarrass him, Billy asks impatient, “You gonna go get it or you gonna let me freeze?”

“Right. Yeah.” Steve bends down and sets his mug down on the lip of the fireplace and pads off to some storage closet somewhere in the mansion. Billy rolls his eyes and promptly moves it to the coffee table to keep the ceramic from heating up and burning him when he picked it up next.

Initially, Billy thinks nothing of it when Steve comes back with only one blanket. It seems perfectly reasonable to him that Steve, who had been in this well heated house presumably all day, just isn’t cold.

But when he sits back down he’s close enough that their knees bump where they’re crossed, and he spreads just the one blanket out across the both of them.

Thank god for the fact that there was already a flush on his cheeks from the fire, because Billy definitely would’ve been blushing like a little schoolgirl at that.

They don’t talk about anything, because there’s nothing too talk about. It’s a comfortable silence that settles between them, broken up only by the crackling and popping of the fire.

But after a while with nothing to distract him, to keep him aware that this was Steve’s house, Steve’s Persian rug underneath him, Steve himself sitting next to him, Billy drifts back to smoke filled lungs straining with the effort of screaming for his mom, to the fist in his hair forcing him to watch.

Steve notices in an instant, those blue eyes going dull, his nostrils flaring and his jaw clenching, and the way his nails dig into his palms.

He sets his mug back down on the coffee table behind them, and gets up on his knees. He wraps the blanket they’d been sharing around Billy’s shoulders, and then his arms, linking his fingers together so he’s hugging Billy.

Except the slightest fluttering of his eyelashes, Billy shows no signs of a reaction. Steve takes that as his motivation to keep trying, and puts a hand on the back of his neck, says, “Hey, Billy.”

It makes his breath hitch, coming out in a cut off sigh. Billy asks, a little monotonous, “What’re you doin’?”

“Keeping you warm.”

Billy appreciates him not bringing up what’s obviously happening, but his head’s only partly coming back to him, and all he has the capacity to come up with as a response is, “Oh.”

Steve squeezes him a little tighter, his face pressing against his shoulder, to get him through the rest of it, to bring him back to earth.

It’s a while before he gets anything else from Billy. Long enough that he has to move so he doesn’t kill his knees sitting up on them, and he ends up with them thrown over top of Billy’s, so they can be as close as possible.

Because Billy wasn’t exactly back there anymore, but he wasn’t quite here either. He could hear Steve, feel his arm around his shoulders, his knuckles rubbing absently up his arm, he just couldn’t reach him yet.

When he gets back in his own head, he takes a moment to figure out where he is, and once he’s got it, he hooks his hands under Steve’s thighs, pulls him the rest of the way into his lap.

He doesn’t think about boundaries, about the fact that he should be more cautious, he just leans forward, presses their foreheads together and says, barely above a whisper, “Thank you.”

“Yeah. Anything for you.” Steve’s got a smile on his face, warm and genuine and blissful, and Billy can’t help the one that forms on his to match.

That’s where they stay until morning comes around. Billy just didn’t have the energy to get up and go home so late, and Steve didn’t have the heart to make him.

He got the throw pillows down off the couch, and they went to sleep the way they were, wrapped up in each other by the fire, well after it burns out and the last of the wood is gone.

Billy wakes up stiff from sleeping on the floor, but he couldn’t have been in any place more comfortable than Steve’s arms.

What Steve had done for him was practically unheard of. It was everything he was supposed to do, inviting someone in when they were cold, helping them out when they were feeling bad, but he’d never had that before. Not from anyone.

He’d hold the memory of Steve, holding him by the fire, equal parts concerned about getting him warm and getting him out of his head, in his heart forever.

That’s what he’s thinking about when he falls back asleep with a smile on his face, how this was just the start of making so many more memories to chase out the old.

Maybe Hawkins and it’s shitty winters wouldn’t be so bad, if he could spend them all like this.

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter ten: dave, frank, and cliff

Cliff guided her by the hand into the tiny club: once again, it was early enough that they had plenty of time to congregate on the side of the room, alone, and out of earshot of the others. Sam held onto the yellow tulip he had given her with two fingers and she brought the petals to her nose for a whiff of that fresh smell.

“I didn't know if you wanted a bouquet again,” he confessed with a shrug.

“It's okay,” she told him as she held the flower close to her chest. “Sometimes one is good.” She took another whiff from those smooth yellow petals, as smooth as a tapestry of silk.

“Do you wanna dance again later tonight?” she asked him.

“Yes, please,” he replied; he took his hat off and ran his fingers through his smooth dark hair. “We did a square dance last time—let's do a little bit of slow ballroom dancing, too.”

He then wagged his finger at her.

“I have something else to give you,” he said, and he ducked past her to the bar at the far side of the room. She watched him with her hands still up to her chest so she could smell the tulip some more. He strode around Lars, who had taken his seat at the bar with a shot of vodka, and he ducked out of sight for a moment. She could only see part of his back; he rose up and stuck his hand behind his back before he returned to her.

“What'chu got for me?” she asked him once he came within earshot.

“Close your eyes and stick out your arm,” he told her. She did just that with her left arm and she felt something brush against her skin.

“Okay,” he said. She opened her eyes and she spotted a bracelet on her wrist made of braided strips of black leather and silver rings: she took a second look to find small sparkling rhinestones embedded within the braids. It was fastened together with a big round fancy silver button about the size of a nickel.

“This is something I found in the book shop,” he explained, “it was tucked between that copy of Siddhartha we found as well as a copy of Frankenstein. I just thought it was something you'd like.”

“I do!” she declared as she put one arm around him and held him close to her. She rested the side of her head against his chest. She closed her eyes and took in the soft sound of his heartbeat underneath his denim button up shirt. Sam kept the tulip near to her nose still.

Something fell over on the other side of the room and then a bunch of paper fell onto the floor. Sam opened her eyes but she kept her head pressed to his chest.

Dan shuffled through a bunch of paper on the floor: he had already slung his guitar over his shoulder, and he swung it upon his back so he could look for something. Sam lifted her gaze to the other side of the stage, where someone had moved the couch from backstage and put it up against the wall.

Dan picked up some paper and took something off the floor. He stood back up and strode over to the couch: he almost tripped over the cables on the side of the stage but he caught himself, albeit without unplugging anything. Scott skidded into the room right then.

“Hey!” he declared. Dan staggered forward and plopped down on the couch: the whole entire time, he never let go of his guitar. Indeed, once he took his seat on the cushions, he brought it forward and rested it upon his lap. He looked up at Scott as if nothing happened.

“What's all the hubbub, bub?” Scott asked him.

“Couldn't find my tuner,” he quipped as he picked up a little black box from the cushion next to him.

“Sure that's yours and not Alex and Eric's?”

“It's all of ours,” Dan pointed out, “yours, too.”

Sam looked up at Cliff, who gazed down at her: the light over their heads shone down on him so it looked as though a halo surrounded his head.

“Wanna take a walk?” he suggested. “It's going to be a long time before Legacy take to the stage again.”

“Yeah, let's,” she said. He doubled back to the bar to fetch his hat and to tell Lars where they were going. Once Cliff ran his finger across the wide brim of his hat, Sam put her sunglasses back on before they headed back outside. He held the door open for her and she slung the strap of her purse over her shoulder.

He hurried up next to her so they walked side by side on the narrow sidewalk.

The sun hung strong and high over the city in the vast clear blue sky. Up ahead of them, the street bustled with life, and yet they rounded the corner towards where Joey's car was parked. Joey himself had gone in through the back door; the two of them strode at a brisk pace past the puddle of barf in the storm drain. Sam thought about Alex, who had ducked out of there and into the shadows around the club, and she wondered if he was alright somewhere in there.

She turned her attention to the block ahead of them once they had cleared the piece of sidewalk and slowed to a stroll. A patch of green grass and a line of trees stood across the corner up ahead. The very sight of the green was enough for Sam to bring the tulip up to her nose again. She looked down at the bracelet Cliff had given her and a part of her felt as though he was spoiling her. Spoiling her even with what he had.

“Is that who I think it is?” he said out of the blue.

“Who?” she asked him. Cliff pointed up ahead and there was a man seated on the curb in front of the grass. He looked back at her with a twinkle in his eye.

“Come along,” he coaxed her. His long legs stretched enough that Sam fell behind him to the end of the sidewalk; however, he awaited her at the corner, and they crossed the little side street together. Once they came closer to him, Sam made out the sight of the helmet of bright orange curls upon his head: they sprawled down over his shoulders and halfway down his back. Despite it being a nice day, he wore a faded black leather jacket over ragged faded denim jeans with large gaping holes in the knees. A pair of ragged gloves hung out of his pocket.

“Dave!” Cliff called out once they reached the corner. The man lifted his head and frowned at first, but then he showed them a smile once they came closer to him. He was a skinny, scrawny man who looked as though he was awaiting a ride somewhere.

“Hey, Cliff,” he replied back to him in a broken voice; Sam picked up the smell of cigarettes on him as well as fried beans. “Wasn't expecting to see you here.”

“I'm seein' Anthrax and Legacy tonight with her,” Cliff explained. “This is my date, Samantha.”

“Or Sam as I go by,” she said as she lifted her sunglasses off of her face for a better look at him.

“Sam, this is my friend Dave Mustaine,” Cliff introduced her. He gazed up at her from the gutter: the sunlight shone about his crown of bright orange.

“You're from California,” he remarked at a fast clip.

“Yeah.” She paused for a few seconds. “How'd you know?”

“You're too friendly,” he said as he brought a hand over his brow to protect his eyes from the sun. “You're also lacking that high New York energy, too.”

“Everything is just a hustle and bustle around here,” she added.

“Right! And you're too laid back, too.” He gestured up at Cliff. “He and I used to be in Metallica together.”

She then gasped.

“Oh, so you're Dave!” she declared.

“The infamous Dave,” he corrected her.

“Well, what're you doin' here?” Cliff asked him.

“I'm homeless now, dude,” Dave replied, even with the nonchalant look on his face. “Been homeless, too, even after Megadeth doing a bit of touring for our first record. Right now, I'm just hanging out here in the Big Apple because of the whole thing with studio time. It's the whole waiting game and everything.”

“Oh, man, I'm really sorry to hear that,” Cliff confessed.

“Yeah, I hope I can get back to L.A to do the new album by the year's end. Even thought I've been sleeping on a girl's old couch, and biding my time, being here in New York has kind of given me a different perspective of everything.”

“That's—kind of why I moved out here,” Sam told him at a deliberate pace.

“Oh, yeah?” Dave showed her a little smile.

“Yeah. I came here because I just wanted to be here as a change of pace. I haven't had as many problems, though.”

“That's smart,” he declared. He then cleared his throat and stood to his feet. Much like Cliff, he towered over her, this long and lanky redheaded man wrapped in rags that barely clung onto his emaciated body.

“You know I only started Megadeth just to spite James and Lars, right?”

“He really did, too,” Cliff filled in for him. “I had nothing to do with it so—if you wanna know more about that.”

“But Cliff and I are still good friends, though,” Dave continued.

“Don't get mad, get even, I guess?” Sam chuckled.

“Yes, YES!” Dave shot out a hand to her for a high five, and she did it with her pinky finger given her hands were full with the tulip and her sunglasses.

“Well, at least you've got a couch to sleep on,” Cliff pointed out.

“Yeah, but I think she might kill me, though,” Dave confessed.

“Why?” Sam chuckled at that.

“I like another girl,” he said, still nonchalant. “I might have to break up with Ellen so I can go with Corinne.”

“Do what you gotta do, that's what I say, man,” Cliff encouraged him.

“I hope she can get me out to California because I wrote a couple of songs already for the new album. I need to be back out West soon here because—you know—”

“It'll save you,” Sam finished for him.

“It'll save me and also my bassist,” he pointed out. “He and I are both struggling right now.” Dave nodded at the flower and the bracelet.

“Did he give you those?” he asked her.

“Yes, he did.”

“I found the bracelet,” Cliff explained, “the tulip I picked on my way over here. Even with our doing better than—we were—I still think less is more.”

“One of you kids have the time right now?” Dave asked them.

“It's around lunchtime,” Sam replied. “That's all we know at the moment.”

“I might poke my head into the show tonight,” he told her with a raise of his eyebrow. “I also ask 'cause I haven't eaten all day, either. I'm also dying of thirst right now.”

“We can go back and get you a drink of water,” Sam suggested.

“As long as James and Lars don't see me,” he told her with a wave of his hand.

“Yeah, he's, uh—” Cliff cleared his throat. “—kind of a loaded subject with the two of them especially. At least, that's all I know. That's as far as I know.”

“Cliff only has hearsay,” Dave pointed out.

“Well, let's—get you something, though,” Sam insisted as she put her sunglasses back on, and Dave followed suit with his own. She started back down the sidewalk and even over the noise of the street, she could hear him tell Cliff, “I like this girl.”

She brought the tulip up to her nose once she reached the corner once again. The two young men stood on either side of her for a moment, and she led the way across the pavement, back to L'Amour.

“She came here with Joey,” Cliff told Dave at one point.

“Joey from Anthrax?” he said.

“Yeah. He's another one who's been sleeping on her couch, too, oddly enough.”

“We're just friends, though,” Sam pointed out with a quick turn around to face them. “I promise.”

“I hope you stay just friends,” Dave stifled a laugh.

“I'm not gonna kill him,” she scoffed. “If he finds someone at some point, I'll be happy for him.”

She returned to a straight position and continued on to the corner of the club. Frank and Scott congregated outside of the side door: the sun shone down upon the dark crowns of their heads such that it looked as though they wore little golden crowns.

“Oh, hey, Dave,” Scott greeted him, to which Dave brought a finger to his lips. “Oh, right, James and Lars,” he followed along. “And yeah, they're here right now.”

“Anyway, what brings you here?” Frank asked him as he shielded his eyes from the bright sun.

“I'm just dyin' of thirst right now,” Dave told him.

“Well, what brings you to New York?” Frank clarified.

“I'm staying with a girl until I can get my ass out to California to record a record,” Dave briskly said, the first time he showed any bit of emotion right in front of Sam. “I just want a drink of water for the time being, though.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah,” Frank replied with a nervous nod of his head. He ducked back inside of the club; meanwhile, Scott remained there on the sidewalk with his hands tucked into his jeans pockets.

“Quite the interesting little amalgamation we got here,” Dave remarked.

“Yeah, I'll say,” Scott added as he raised his thick dark eyebrows. “Buncha starving artists here.”

“In Sam's case, quite literally,” Cliff chimed in.

“I like artists,” Dave stated as he stuffed the gloves further into his jacket pocket. “You guys work harder than we do. At least, that's what I think, anyway.”

“Yeah, but you guys make inanimate objects make noises, though,” Sam pointed out.

“You make stuff out of nothing,” he insisted. A gust of wind made its way through the skyscrapers and his bright orange curls billowed over his head and shoulders.

Frank almost stumbled out of the club right then with a small clean glass of water in one hand. He gave it to Dave, who pushed his hair back with his free hand and looked on at him with a blank look on his face.

“Thank you—and don't sweat it, Frank,” he declared. Cliff then turned to Sam, again with a twinkle in his eye.

“Do you want anything?” he offered her.

“Not really, no,” she said as she adjusted the bracelet and shifted her weight right in her spot on the sidewalk. Dave meanwhile, had downed the whole drink of water in four large gulps.

“Want some more?” Frank offered him.

“Please. And I hope I can hang out around here without James and Lars seeing me.”

“We'll sneak you into the shadows if we've gotta,” Scott promised him.

Cliff then gestured for Sam to follow him away from there.

“Where you guys going?” Dave called after them.

“We're gonna take a walk,” Cliff replied. “Won't be long.”

He was quick to walk away from the spot on the sidewalk and he rested a single hand on Sam's shoulder as well. They strode away from the doorway and made their way towards the alleyway up ahead.

“I needed to get you away from there,” Cliff explained to her once they were far out of earshot. “Like I said, it's only hearsay to me. So I don't like how my brothers are fighting with each other.”

“That's—completely understandable,” Sam replied, slightly out of breath. “It's only hearsay with you? Really?”

“Yeah, I had no say in firing Dave,” he told her once they reached the street corner. “I'm still very good friends with him but it feels like I have to walk on eggshells most of the time when it comes to him, though. I can't really talk to anyone about it.”

“Have you tried to?” she asked him as they came to a stop. “The whole thing made me nervous.”

“Yeah, but every time I do, something always intervenes, though.”

“I kinda feel bad for Dave, too,” she confessed. “But he seems a little bit blunt, though.”

“That's just how he is,” Cliff explained. “And I would be, too, if I was thrown out like that and not given another chance to change my ways.”

“Was he really that bad when he got drunk?”

“Oh, yeah. It got fucking crazy at times. He got violent after he kicked back a few bottles. I remember one time he got drunk and he punched a big hole in the wall of the studio. The three of us get giggly and goofy when we've had a few. It was like oil and water. I wanted to give him another chance, and I still do, too, as much as I like Kirk and everything.”

“But you had no say in it, though,” she said.

“None at all. James just told me one morning, 'we made Dave go back home to L.A. and we're getting a new guitarist.'” She thought about Joey and the fact that he let himself drink a supple amount. She hoped that nothing would happen between him and Anthrax.

She peered around the block before them.

“By the way, did you see where Joey went off to?” she asked him.

“I didn't, no,” he confessed. “Why's that?”

“Well, 'cause he threw up when he and I got here,” she answered with a shrug of her shoulders.

“I hope they don't go through what happened to us,” Cliff confessed.

“I hope they don't, either,” she echoed.

“I'll be pissed if they do,” he added.

“I can see Joey and Dave getting together in a single act together,” she suggested. “That is, if it happens and Megadeth lose their hold.”

“They can call it 'Fired',” he laughed, and they crossed the street side by side to the opposite corner. Up ahead stood a stretch of more buildings as well as an entrance to the subway. He then turned his head to her.

“I have an idea,” he told her, and he took her by the hand. They hurried to the staircase in between the wrought iron fence. Unlike the other subway stations, this one smelled as though it had just been cleaned.

They reached the bottom of the staircase and the train stood at the platform.

“You wanna get on the train?” she laughed at him.

“No,” he said, and he guided her to a short corridor off to the right. On the right side of the hallway stood a broom closet.

“Right in here,” he coaxed her with a gesture to the door.

“What's in here?” she asked him.

“I wanna get close to you,” he said as he turned around to face her. “Like—much closer to you. Every kiss to you is one step closer to peeling it back.”

“You,” she sputtered, “wanna do that. In broad daylight.”

“We're not exactly in broad daylight,” he pointed out, “we'll be in a shadow. We'll be in a closet.”

“We're still in broad daylight!” she insisted. “Out in public!”

“Tell you what—I'll only let you touch me,” he said as he opened the closet door: there was barely room for the two of them in there. A metal rack filled up the entire back of the closet and a large yellow bucket and a mop took up an entire corner of the spot.

“I dunno, Cliff,” she admitted with a shrug and a little twirl of the tulip; and she thought about what she had told Joey before with her wishing to draw him.

“I just wanna be closer to you,” he confessed in a near whisper. “I don't wanna be like—weird or anything.”

“Oh, no, it's just—it's not very romantic.”

“We can make it romantic,” he pointed out. He reached for the tulip in her hands and he nestled it on the shelf of the rack, to which she chuckled at that.

“What do you have in your purse?”

“Uh, let's see...” She opened her purse and she spotted that photo of Frank and Charlie as children nestled on the side, right next to her wallet. Next to that was a little packet of spearmint gum.

“Here's something to make it smell better,” she said as she handed him the pack. He took a whiff and nodded.

“Oh, yeah.” He set it on the shelf and then returned to her. She looked past him and spotted a tall box that held an air conditioner in it at one point. He took his seat there and she squeezed in after him.

“Tight fit,” he said as she shut the door behind her: a small crack in between the door and the frame gave her just enough light to see what she was doing.

“Come closer to me,” she whispered.

“Only if you come closer to me,” he begged her. He kept himself seated on the box and she leaned in to him.

“So, do you want it below the belt, or—”

“Yeah, please,” he whispered to her as he opened his legs for her. “Nothin' fancy. But something to start us off with.”

In the dim light, she unfastened the button on his jeans and she reached down the front. The size of it. Even when inside of his jeans, her finger tips caressed over his silken skin. It felt like a big serpent, right inside of his pants.

“Wow,” she breathed.

“Yeah—I guess you could say I'm hung,” he said to her in a near whisper. “It does feel good, I'll say that. Those little fingers on me.”

“How 'bout my thumb?” she asked him as she stroked him with the pad of her thumb. He gasped at the feeling.

“Yes,” his voice broke. “God, Sam—you're a natural. With one hand no less!”

She knelt closer to him: the smell of the mint gum was faint and distant in comparison to the smell of his denim and his soft cologne, but she wanted to do it.

“I think I could do it with two,” she declared as she kept her voice down. In the dim light, she could see his Cheshire cat grin and the twinkle in his eye.

“If we were—in a bigger room,” he grunted, “like—your place.”

“Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't ya?” she teased him.

“I could give you sump'n to return the favor, too,” he retorted. He bowed his head and shuffled his feet at the feeling of her thumb and her two fingers on him. He then gaped at her.

“You okay?” she asked him, and he let out a soft groan.

“That's the spot,” he declared. “That's—the spot—and the best feeling.”

Sam was quick to take her hand out and he giggled at her.

“What?” she asked him with a smile on her face.

“I'm gonna have to change my panties now,” he said, and he couldn't resist the laughter.

“Your big boy panties,” she teased him. She stood to her feet and picked the gum and the tulip from the shelf. She put the gum back into her purse and she reached for Cliff's hand. He stood to his feet and adjusted the brim of his hat. Her breasts brushed against his stomach and he even had to bow his head from the ceiling.

“How do we get outta here?” he asked her as he held onto the brim of his hat with two fingers.

“You go first,” she told him.

“Oh, no, ladies first,” he insisted. She let out a sigh, rolled her eyes, and then giggled at him. She opened the closet door with her free hand and she stumbled out of there; he followed her and he almost dropped his hat on the clean tile floor. He caught it and put it back onto his head as the door swung closed behind him in one fell swoop. He then crossed his legs.

“Tell you what,” he started with a raise of his finger. “I'll run to the men's room and wash up—you go back to L'Amour and wait for me.”

“You sure?” she asked him as she twirled the tulip in her fingers: her hand was dry as a bone even though she made him come in his jeans.

“Positive. Go hang out with the gang and I'll catch up with you.” Cliff leaned into her neck and gave her a little kiss. The bristle over his lip brushed against her skin such that it tickled, and it brought a giggle out of her. He kept his legs together as he passed her and headed over to the men's room. Sam watched him go and then, once he was out of sight, she fetched up a dreamy sigh. But without another moment's hesitation, she surfaced from the subway and made her way back to the club.

Aurora, Zelda, and Marla showed up within the next hour, but she had no idea where Dave had disappeared to; Marla had put on a knit cap over her hair to hide it all away from onlookers. She also noticed that Cliff still hadn't showed up by the time the audience began gathering in front of them. A much bigger crowd that time.

The four girls stood at the back of the room and they watched Alex solo once again on that song “Alone in the Dark”. He stood still and kept the guitar pressed to his little tummy the whole entire time. Marla and Aurora both had stars in their eyes at the sight of him, but even though Sam kept her eye on him, she couldn't stop thinking about Cliff and Dave. Neither of them had arrived at the club still; she couldn't stop thinking about James and Lars, and the fact Scott and Frank felt like a pair of lynchpins. So much had happened without her looking, and there was so much that she still needed to know.

Meanwhile, Zetro did more straight up singing rather than that usual high shriek that caught everyone's attention. Legacy were tight and powerful on that second night, and Sam had hope for them. When Anthrax showed to the stage, she recalled what Charlie had said about Legacy and that there was another band called that. She wondered how that would work out as Joey stood in the middle of the stage with his head bowed over the head of the microphone.

His voice was more broken and he had a difficult time catching his breath. Indeed, they cut their set short by two songs because he couldn't hardly keep up with the other four guys behind him. Such a big crowd in front of them and yet he couldn't do it; everyone filed out of there as disappointed as Sam expected them to be.

“He didn't look too good,” she overheard Zelda say to Marla, who shook her head.

“I'm gonna go see if he's okay,” Sam told them as she adjusted the strap of her purse and tucked Cliff's tulip into her purse for safe keeping. “I did ride with him down here after all.”

“Okay—I will, too,” Marla said as she tugged down on her cap, and Sam strode across the floor to the backstage area.

“You wanna get something to eat?” Aurora offered Zelda as they fell out of earshot. Sam stepped over the cables on the floor and she leaned into the backstage area. No one there, and in fact the back door shut as soon as she knew what was happening there. She doubled back to the side doors and made her way to the street.

If nothing, she could take the subway back up to the Bronx, but it was getting late, and she knew she wouldn't return home until well into the night. The very thought of it exhausted her. She turned her head and she recognized Frank's car at the corner: he had rolled down the windows to take in the warm nigth air.

“Frankie!” she shouted as she sprinted down the sidewalk. In the darkness, she saw his silhouette turn in her direction. “Frankie!” He hesitated there to await her.

“Hey!” he called out to her. He leaned over the passenger seat: the orange glow of the street light washed over his handsome face.

“Do you know where Joey went?” she asked him, out of breath.

“Charlie and Marla just took him home,” he replied. “Poor guy had such a bad night.”

“Was he okay?”

“You know, he barfed this morning when you guys got here and then he knocked back another few drinks.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” she groaned and she bowed her head. She lifted her gaze and stared on at Frank in the dim light. “Well—I don't really feel like taking the subway, though.” She adjusted the strap of her purse yet again.

“That's right, you and him rode together here,” he recalled.

“Did they take his car?”

“Yeah, they did.”

“It's getting late, too. You could do it but it kinda sucks, though—it's been a long day, too. Yeah, hop on in. Besides, you and I live in the same building.”

Sam slid into the passenger seat next to him, and she placed her purse on the floor next to her ankle. They made their way up the street and caught the light green.

“It wasn't just Joey who had a bad night, though,” he started. “I don't know what was going on with the amps tonight.”

“You guys sounded good, though,” she pointed out. “Legacy sounded extra strong tonight.”

“Zetro's last night, you know. He told me he wanted to sing tonight, too, which was real cool, if you ask me! But I felt so naked up there. Myself, Scott, and also Danny, plus Eric, Alex, and Greg. Charlie couldn't hardly get the mic on his snare to work. Louie just went 'fuck it' and took it off, but it seemed to work for him, though. We all struggled tonight.”

They fell silent for a long time, that is until they reached the freeway entrance.

“So Cliff kissed you,” he muttered over the roar of the tires on the pavement. Sam gaped at him.

“Wait a minute, how'd you find that out?” she demanded.

“The last time I saw him, he had this twinkle in his eye and he smelled like fresh coffee,” he explained. “So I asked him about it.”

Sam shook her head. And she had been keeping it a secret this whole entire time!

She squinted her eyes and gaped at him. Frank looked back at her with a concerned look on his face.

“What's wrong?” he asked her.

“He told me to keep it a secret,” she explained. “I—I don't even know what to say right now.”

“Wow, what the fuck,” he muttered as he returned his attention to the parkway in front of them. “You should bring it up to him once you get home.”

“Yeah, I'll talk to him tonight,” she vowed to him.

“You should,” Frank replied, “Cliff is my friend but he needs to know that he went behind your back like that. I wouldn't really be okay with that if it were me. Heck, I'm not okay with it not being me. I'll give you the number to Jon and Marsha's house, too. They're staying with them.”

Within thirty minutes, they returned home to their building. Frank bode her good night with a hug and then she made her way back upstairs to her room. She set her purse down on the couch and she took out the tulip. Cliff never showed again and the secret was out. She didn't want to get mad at him, but she couldn't help it.

She darted into the kitchen and set the tulip down on the counter so she could dial the Zazulas' number. It was almost midnight and thus, as she brought the phone to her ear, she wondered if she would wake them.

“Hello?” She recognized his voice.

“Hi, Cliff,” she said in a flat tone.

“Oh, hi.” He hesitated.

“You told Frankie you kissed me?” she blurted out. Silence on his end.

“Uh—”

“Why'd you do that, Cliff?” she demanded and she folded a single arm across her chest.

“Because,” he started.

“Because why?” She could feel her face growing hot from frustration.

“Because I needed to tell someone,” he said. “I needed to tell someone close to me. I was gonna lose it otherwise if I didn't tell someone about it.”

“But you told me to keep it under the wraps, though!” she pointed out.

“Well, yeah.” He never raised his voice. “But I didn't know how I was gonna react to it, though. Believe me, Sam, if I would've, I could've. Both my hands on my brother's ashes.” Sam fumed as she kept the phone up to her ear. He also left her hanging in the club as well. The second night in a row, and he failed to be her date to the shows.

“I'm also sorry for not showing up, either,” he added when she didn't reply to him. “Dave needed a ride back to where he was staying and I needed to change my underwear, too. We had to make some calls and I finally got back to the Zazulas' house for a change, and at that point, the shows had already started...” As he spoke, she eased the expression on her face. Even though she kept her arm crossed over her chest, there was no way she could stay mad at him for this.

“I'm just... I'm sorry, Sam,” he pleaded. “I'm sorry for everything. You can break up with me and tell me to go fuck myself, I'd understand.”

She swallowed, and she kept her gaze fixated on the tulip on the counter next to her. There was also that bouquet on the coffee table in the next room. Those soft smooth bright yellow petals that beckoned a smile out of her.

“No, no,” she told him in a low voice. “It's okay. Things just—happened.”

“That's just all there is to it,” he replied in a near whisper. “Things just happen, and sometimes you need to tell people about it. Otherwise you get what's going on between James, Lars, and Dave at the moment.”

“You were really cute when we got to the closet, too,” she said, and she couldn't resist the smile on her face. “Dolling that little space up.”

“Well, you wanted it to be romantic,” he pointed out with a little chuckle to his voice.

“True. But it was just—it was cute to me.” She snickered at the thought.

“When do Stormtroopers go on tour?”

“About a month. It's only gonna be a handful of dates, but Frankie told me it'll be my first taste of the road life. And it's money for me and Marla especially.”

“Take all your clothes,” he suggested. “All of them. You never know what the place will be like. Also, be prepared to not sleep, either.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” she vowed, and she yawned.

“It's late,” he stated.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Enjoy your sleep while you can, too. Just every minute of it. So—don't stay up another minute later. Also, Sam?”

“Yeah?”

There was silence on his end.

“I love you,” he whispered, and she never moved. Her chest ached a bit: it took her a minute to realize she had been holding her breath that whole time.

“You there?” he asked her.

“Yeah.”

“You alright?” “Yeah.”

He snickered at her.

“I love you, too,” she whispered back at him as she picked up the tulip from the counter. She brought those yellow petals up to her nose: still smelled fresh.

“You have a good night,” he told her in a soft voice.

“Kiss the Zazulas good night for me,” she said, and that brought a laugh out of him, and they hung up at the same time.

[criticizing-blogger]

Fudge

Pairing: Dean x reader

Warning: cursing, gore

Word count: 3423

In a small, snowy town of Minnesota, a black Chevy impala drives into a motel parking lot and settles into an empty spot up front. Two men, brothers, stepped out. The driver was a shorter man with a crew cut style;  his hair a straight, dark blond, matching his smooth forehead to his strong cheekbones and chiseled jawline. His eyes were hues of a forest, an earthy green that revives grass from the harsh winter. His stature is short, a brown shirt covered with a black and red flannel and that covered by a brown, leather jacket as his pants were blue going over his brown boots.

The passenger was tall, taller than his brother. His hair was shaggy brown and long, shoulder length to be exact but brought wonders to his features. The man’s eyes were the softest of brown, infused with a deep green as if he held a forest inside them. He wore a blue and white flannel with a grey, denim jacket. Pants were a light blue and like the other man, they, too, covered his dark brown boots.

The two looked at each other before walking into the motel. The bell on the entrance door jingled signaling the employees that customers were walking in. A plump, ederly woman who stood behind the check-in counter smiled and greeted them. “Welcome. Bed for one?”

“N-no...we’re not….we’re not together.” The taller man of the two stuttered.

“It’s okay sweetie. No need to be ashamed. We don’t judge here.” .

“Yeah, no need to be ashamed, honey.” The short man spoke as he spanked the taller man, grinning in amusement.

He gave his brother a look of annoyance. She gave them 2 sets of keys and he grabbed one before walking off.

“He's something, isn't he?” He winked and walked away with his key. 

The brothers walk out of the building and towards their shared room. Walking in, the walls are a dark, plain green with brown wood trims and the flooring white carpet. By the door to the room was a mahogany desk with a small, black desk lamp on top, a painting of a forest hung above. A dresser, the same color as the desk, stood against the wall with a small green dining table and matching chairs beside it. Across the table on the other side of the room were two separate beds with an end table in between and a large lamp on top. On the far side of the room across the entryway stood a door to the small bathroom. 

The bathroom, on the other hand, consists of a small, white sink on a grained counter top, the sink cabinet matching the dresser. A white toilet sat on the black and white tile floor, towels neatly folded on a silver rack above.  And next to the toilet was an off colored white bathtub with a few unknowable light brown stains on the sides; white tiles stuck to the walls and a silver showerhead attached above.  The bathroom walls are beige.

Dean slams the door shut and drops his bag onto the bed closest to the entry. He rummages through the bag grabbing out a black and white suit and a gun. Sam does the same before walking into the bathroom to change as his brother changes in the main room.

 “Witnesses first?” Sam shouts.

“You can question witnesses,” Dean spoke, fully decked out in his suit as Sam was when he walked out of the bathroom. “I’ll check out the crime scene.” 

Both men tuck their guns into the back of their pants and the fake FBI badges in their front suit jacket pockets. The same routine they do in almost every case. With their feet covered by white socks with black dress shoes, guns and badges ready, they headed out the door and to the first crime scene.

The small parking lot of the only hardware store in town, had attracted plenty of locals who stood behind yellow tape and two police officers at each end keeping them in line. Police cars and ambulances swarmed the outside, officers questioning witnesses all the while the EMTs checked for injuries. Despite the lot being small, Sam and Dean were able to maneuver around everyone. They found the sheriff talking to the owner of the store. 

“Excuse us, sheriff.” Dean spoke causing the man to look up from his phone.

“Can I help you gentlemen?” he asked, putting his device away.

They pulled out their badges from their front pockets flipping them open. “I’m Agent Page and my partner here is Agent Young. Can we ask what happened here?”

The sheriff squints his eyes at the fake I.D.s and sighs. “According to crazy Doreen-” pointing a finger at an elderly lady with an annoyed officer watching her- “there were small men walking out of the store wearing bloody clothes and holding tools stolen from inside.”

“Mind if I check it out?” Dean asked. The sheriff gestured towards the store.

Sam stayed to talk to the man while Dean went inside to check out the scene. The first thing he noticed was splatters of blood over the walls and counter where the checkout counter is. He carefully leaned over the counter so as to not get blood on his suit or mess up evidence, his eyes roamed over the area to see a man dead, multiple stab wounds to the chest. He leaned back away from the counter to look over it. Smack dead in the middle of the blood splatter was a tiny handprint; as small as a child almost. Dean took out his cell and shot a picture and sent it to Sam.

Turning away he looked down at the floor for any further evidence. The blood hadn’t gone too far as most of it laid where the man is. Less clean up he supposed even though he knew it wasn’t the time to make jokes but does it anyways. Dean kept walking throughout the store. Nothing could be spotted on the floor. Even the shelves didn’t show signs of anything supernatural. They just looked ransacked. 

But something shiny caught the man’s attention from the corner of his eye. A bell. A small, gold bell. He walks towards then bends down to pick the object up. As it sat between his thumb and index finger, he slowly inspected the object. What the hell, he thought. Unfortunately he couldn't think further as his ears picked up the sound of footsteps coming up from behind. Dean quickly stood and turned only to let out a sigh of relief. It was just his brother.

“What did you find?” Sam asked, noticing Dean a little tense.

Dean opened his palm and showed him the bell. Sam’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He picked it up to inspect it. As it is just a bell, nothing more. He pockets it and starts to tell Dean what the elderly lady had said. “According to Doreen, when she was walking past the store, she saw little men walking out with sets of tools covered in blood, the same for their clothes. Apparently they were wearing red and green striped pointed hats that contained bells on top, the shirt and pants matched and the shoes were pointed upwards on the end of them, also with bells on top.”

Dean looked at him like he didn’t believe any of the words that just came out of his mouth. And he doesn’t believe Sam. “So dwarves? You’re saying dwarves. Like Santa’s little elves.”

“I-uh, I mean, I guess,” he shrugs as he rubs the back of his neck realizing the elderly woman might actually be crazy just as the sheriff said.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Does any other witness say anything actually useful?”

Sam shook his head. 

“So no one else saw elves? Not even Rudolph?” Dean sarcastically spoke, making it Sam’s turn to roll his eyes. “Come on, let's go.”

Dean sat in his car parked in front of a small house with the window rolled down talking, no, flirting to a woman while Sam sat inside a house talking to the family of the dead employee from the hardware store. The woman, Dean learned whose name is (y/n), was trying her hardest not to laugh at his failed attempt of flirting with her. Which, he was epically failing and miserably. 

“Okay dude. Look, you’re cute and all but you are literally the walking cliche of James Dean. I’m not interested.” she spoke before walking off just as Sam was coming out of the house having heard everything and chuckling. 

“That was awesome.” he states getting into the impala.

“Oh shut up,” spoke  Dean, annoyed, as he started the car and drove off. “What did they say?”

“According to the mother, nobody told her and her husband that their son is dead. The sheriff said that the guy, whose name was Greg, died sometime around six this morning. And despite it being several hours later, they never got a call.”

“Anything useful?”

“She said that Greg had been seeing little men for about three days and shrugged it off as drinking too much. It seriously sounds like elves.”

“Yeah, no. There is no such thing as elves.” Dean spoke, obviously still not believing Sam.

“Do you remember the case with the girl that was in a coma and her dad was reading her fairy tales?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, so?”

“What if this is something similar except the whole disney sugar coating? Like how the mice were turning into servants and how Cinderella was being abused by her stepmother except this time it's elves.” Sam explains.

“Unless they’re dwarves from Lord of the Rings, I’m not buying it.”

.    .    .    .

Seven in the morning rolled around when a bedside alarm goes off. A hand reaches out and slams the top of it shutting it off. Yawning, (y/n) pulls back the covers and swings her legs over the side of the bed and stretches. She gets up and walks out of the bedroom and into the bathroom to do her business. When finished, she walked back into her room changing into some black leggings with a red sweater and white socks. After changing she walked downstairs putting on her black boots lined with white fur and a dark red double lapel jacket. She grabbed her purse and keys and headed out the door.

The weather outside was freezing causing her to slightly shiver. The ground is covered with pure white snow. Her boots leave small prints in the snow from the front door to her vehicle. She quickly gets into her car and lets it run for a few minutes before turning the heat on and leaving. She was used to the cold weather as she has lived in Minnesota for most of her life so the snow didn’t bother her.

The first place she headed for was the small cafe in town where she had breakfast almost every morning. The owner, Mrs. Smith has lived here for all her life and the cafe was passed down generation to generation. (Y/n) has known her since she moved here with her parents when she was younger. Mrs. Smith used to babysit her when her parents had to work. They were close and still are to this very day. The cafe has changed interior multiple times over the years as to keep up with modern times. But the outside has never changed. 

By the time (y/n) has arrived and walked into the building, her usual breakfast consists of fried egg, bacon and cheese on a toasted bagel, a bowl of maple and brown sugar oatmeal with sliced bananas and black coffee, in her spot she claims as hers in the far corner of the building in the booth. It was her favorite spot as she could watch customers for inspiration for her writings.

While she ate and watched people come and go, two men in black suits came in, taking a seat a couple booths away from her. One of them, the same one she talked to, well, technically watched him fail at flirting with her yesterday, caught her eye. He puts on a charming smile fixing his jacket while he says something to the other guy, who seemed amused to see him fail again, and made his way over to the woman. 

He sits across from her. “Morning.”

“Morning, Agent.” she smiles, leaning back into her seat, waiting to watch him fail for the second time.

“I think there’s something wrong with my eyes. I just can’t seem to take them off of you.” 

She couldn’t help but snort while she took a sip of her hot coffee.

“Boy, that coffee looks hot. Just like,” Dean started before sheepishly saying, “hi.”

That caused her to raise her eyebrows. “Okay, now that was kind of adorable.”

Dean perked up. “So, did it work?”

She stood up, her breakfast finished. “Nope.” And with that, she walked out of the cafe with an amusing grin on her face. Dean’s mouth was open with shock. He’s never been rejected by a woman in years. Especially twice. He lets out a groan before closing his mouth and sitting at the same table Sam currently sat at. Sam was grinning letting out chuckles at his older brother’s failure.

“Oh shut up.” Dean told him as he grabbed a menu covering his red face of embarrassment while he looked for food. “So, what did you find from research last night?”

Sam who already knew what he wanted to eat pulled out his laptop from his computer bag and placed it in front of him. “According to Wikipedia, in Germanic mythology, a dwarf is a human-shaped, usually bearde, entity that dwells in mountains and in the earth and is variously associated with wisdom, smithing, mining, and crafting. But in this case, it's around Christmas time so instead of it being dwarves, we could be dealing with elves.”

Dean deadpanned and looked at the man across from him. “Please for the love of Chuck, you’re joking.”

Sam shook his head.

“I thought elves were supposed to be nice. Not all murdery.”

Sam shrugs. “I think at this point from all the shit we thought wasn’t possible, this goes along with it.”

“But why would elves start killing people and taking hammers and shovels and whatever else?” Dean spoke confused as hell. 

The only thing Sam could come up with is, well, he couldn’t come up with anything as they never went through something even remotely close to this. They didn’t have much to go on since they only talked to very few people and saw one crime scene. He already knew this odd case was gonna take more than a few days unlike most of the ones they have been on. 

“Sam sighed. “I don’t know. We need to look at the other scenes and see what happened there. Like the one lumber yard.” 

Before Dean could say anything, a waitress came up and asked them if they were ready to eat. Dean ordered a large, meaty breakfast, something likely to give you a heart attack if you ate enough of it while Sam got something small and healthy so he could keep his physique up. She wrote it all down, eyes widening when Dean spoke what he wanted and giving Sam a flirty smile as she took the meus from his hand, letting their fingers touch before letting them know she’ll be back with coffee and walks away with an extra sway of her hips. Dean watched her backside as she walked away till he couldn’t no more. He looked at his brother eyebrows raising up and down and smirking at him. “She’s hot.”

He just ignored Dean’s behavior as he was used to it. 

“Dude! You should go for her.” Dean states.

“No thanks.”

“Oh come on, you need to get laid. That’s probably why you’re so tense all the time.”

Sam looked at his brother with annoyance and rolled his eyes. “Last I checked, saving lives is more important than getting some.”

“If you won’t have her, I will,” Dean grins. “What happened at the lumber yard?”

Sam pulled up the local newspaper, called Morning News written on top in huge black letters, on his laptop. Everything that had happened over the last several days here covered a good part of the first page. On the left column showed rebuilding the bridge that connects the two surrounding towns as it was falling apart and unsafe to drive on. It didn’t give an estimate of how much it would cost to demolish it, which Sam knew was gonna be expensive, but to build another was gonna be much, much more. 

On the right column was a ten-year-old boy being awarded for selling the most chocolate in time for the holidays. He won a two hundred and fifty dollar gift card and got to leave school to go to any restaurant for lunch. He remembers middle school used to do that but he was never able to because of his father, John Winchester. He would’ve liked to do normal activities growing up, and still does, but with the line of work they do, he can only do so many normal things every other human gets to do. Otherwise, nothing of importance.

And on the bottom of the page showed the weather for the next seven, cold and snowy. No sun or warmth which of course is normal with it being winter. Before Sam could get off topic in his thoughts, he read the column of the murders until it told him to turn to page nine. The whole entire page, he notices, was covered about the murders of two men but three crime scenes. Sam didn’t bother reading the few paragraphs of the scene at the hardware store. Next, it showed what may have happened at the lumber yard which apparently happened first before the hardware store as the man who chopped wood there was found with an axe in the back of his head.

“So it says here a man, Finn Huckle, was found at three am two days hunched over the tree stump. His legs hacked and an axe stuck in the back of his head as his body laid over the tree stump he was using to shop wood. It looked like a regular murder accoring to the police until they saw Finn holding a pointy hat in his hand. It looked like he tried fighting back because he had skin under his nails. But when the lab tested it, the skin didn’t belong to anybody. Like whoever, or whatever, did this, doesn’t exist. However, at the last scene, at a children's park, in the sand box was a large, gaping hole with what they know is snow, surrounding the area.”

Dean took everything his brother said in. This was definitely something they haven’t dealt with, even heard of. But Sam says he thinks its elves seem to be making more sense, oddly to him, the more they learn what's happening in town. But why elves? Weren’t they supposed to be nice and make presents for good boys and girls? This case seems to be getting odder and odder. 

“Say it is elves, did they lose their mojo or something? Maybe they ran out of alcohol. I’d be all grumpy if I ran out of alcohol and had to deal with shit ton of kids.” Dean spoke gruffly.

Sam suddenly perked up, an idea as to why, if it is elves, acting dangerous. “What if they were hit with some potion making them angry?”

Dean furrowed his eyebrows as he thought. Okay, maybe it is Santa’s little helpers, or logically, it's not. This is definitely something new. Before they can confirm what they think, they would need to see the hole at the park. His thoughts were interrupted with the pretty waitress bringing their food. She gave Sam his first, again, giving him a flirty smile then gave the other man his food, looking at him. Dean winked at her as he gave her his world famous smile he uses on all the ladies causing her to scoff and roll her eyes before walking off. Sam laughed at Dean’s flabbergasted look on his face. “Rejected by two women in one day. Got to be a new record.”

Dean rolled his eyes and flipped Sam off before digging into his food, annoyed.

___________________________________________________

DEAN X READER TAGS:

@akshi8278

[rendezvousrenjun]

party 4-2 | l.jeno

↬  due to unfortunate circumstances, you and jeno have to pretend to date at a party, the only problem is that both of you have suppressed feelings for one another and can’t seem to admit it. 

fluff + angst | 5.5k words | beware! cussing, suggestive themes, mentions of cheating and drinking :(

(a/n: happy jeno day! this was originally a request with : fake dating + #5,6,&12, but i got quite carried away! Italic dialogue indicates flashback. hope you enjoy <3)

Jeno’s grip around the leather steering wheel tightened like the knot that built at the pit of his stomach. On his wrist was a watch that seemed to tick too slow, or too fast-- he really didn’t know. He did know that he was parked in front of your apartment complex. And before he was parked in front of your home, he had cleaned up the front seats so that there was enough space for you to move your feet around or place your bag down. He wasn’t necessarily messy, but in front of you he was always a klutz. 

He shifts around, checking his car mirrors and pressing the light on and off, pretending he was Batman sending a signal, before taking a deep breath. 

“I’m glad we were both hired, huh Jeno?” You had been sitting at the metal break room table, already dressed in your denim apron and matching hat. Tapping your foot excitedly, eyebrows raised at him as he got ready himself for your first shift together. He was tying up the loose ends of his apron behind him, smiling at you softly. “Turn around.” You got up to help him, impatiently excited to work at your new job as a barista. 

You gingerly took the denim around his waist, making sure you were gentle as you tied it in a secure knot. 

He vividly recollects how he had to look away from you, scared of his flushed ears making an appearance. It was a small gesture, but despite being friends with you for so long, every little thing you did made him fall for you even more. 

That was your first job. The both of you experienced it together.  And now Jeno and you were going to attend your first college party together too. 

Seeing your shadow peeking around the corner he was aware of your presence. It retreats in hesitation in and out of view, until it makes a clear decision to approach him. He counts in his head the number of steps you take until you’ve arrived in front of him. On the outside he’s composed, calm, refined but on the inside-- well. Don’t worry about it. 

“Yes??”

At the time, he was studying (more of using his phone to play a game) at the student library, which you knew you could find him at. He knew that you could find him here too. 

You swivel a seat from the side, dragging it to place it beside him. He closes the book he mindlessly pretended to be reading slowly, as if to absorb whatever context it may have had. 

“So Mark invited me to this party…” you start, mind zoning out slightly when Jeno’s gaze meets yours and you take notice of the eyelash under his glasses’ lens, “wait you have an eyelash.”

He closes his eyes and let's you sweep it off his cheek before continuing, “so Mark’s party… what about it?”

“Well,” the warmth of your fingertip leaves his face and he has to pretend like his heart isn't irregularly beating because of you, “you know I haven't been to like an actual, you know, party and I always hear crazy stories about getting your drink spiked and whatnot and I don't know if I wanna go alone, you catch my drift?”

“Mmm I kind of catch your drift, but also-- so you don't want to go to Mark's party anymore?”

“Not necessarily! I do want to go, it's just I don't want to go alone. I think it would be safer to go with someone.”

“Why don't you ask Ryujin to go with you? Then you guys could even get ready together, isn't that fun?” 

“That does sound fun… but..” 

“But what?”

You press your lips together, “I think I would feel safer going with you, I don't know.”

“All you had to do was ask directly bro.” He rolls his eyes at you jokingly, putting his stuff back into his backpack.

He knew you must've been excited. It was Mark who had asked you after all. And Mark Lee’s place was the designated party house known on campuses that weren’t even yours. 

So why was he anxious now? It’s just a party. A party where you two go together. It's not like you two were dating. 

He presses a button to turn the radio on, trying to zone out instead. 

The knock on his passenger seat window brings him out of his internal monologue. He unlocks the door. When you enter, so does the intoxicating smell of your perfume. 

“Jeno!!” you climb into the seat next to him, double checking if the door is locked. 

He lowers the volume a bit and turns the keys, moving his head to look at you. His heart twinges a bit at the sight of you. He wants to tell you you’re gorgeous, but he swallows his words before they could surpass his lips. 

“y/n!!” he says instead, “are you excited!?” To which you respond back by shaking your head vigorously. “Okay, let’s have fun.”

He starts up the car and glances at you again. “Wait y/n seat-belt.”

“Oh yea,” you pull on the strap a bit recklessly which causes it to jam, “just a second” you retract it back and try to pull it again but it stops, “this seat-belt is playing with me let me try it this again--” Jeno sighs and unbuckles his own. You look over to him as he reaches over your shoulder, causing your head to look up at an angle so he could fix it for you. The close proximity makes your stomach uneasy and you could feel the tips of his strands of hair light brush over your neck. When you hear the click, you face Jeno again, a smile creeping up your face out of nerves. He smiles back at you before finding his place back to the steering wheel. 

Funnily enough he’s less nervous now that you are actually with him, comfortable to be in your company. The night sky was a clear blue-black, like a large obsidian stone glazed over your heads. There was a thrill that came with being in Jeno’s roughed up car, memories upon memories laying in here. You roll the window down a bit to catch the light evening breeze, closing your eyes to feel it against your skin. 

“What if I do this move on the dance floor?” you open your eyes and start shaking your head vigorously, not matching with the rhythm of the song playing, your hands make micro-movements as if you were doing the robot, “don’t you think I’ll charm everyone there?” 

Jeno glances at you quick, his eyebrow perched a little higher in expectancy to see something graceful but instead he bursts out laughing, choking a bit at the sight of you, “you’re going to get us into an accident with those possessed moves I-” he continues to laugh, his chest heaving up and down as he tries to concentrate on the road, “that’s something Donghyuck would do.”

“You’re right my neck is getting sore,” you wrap your hand around it, “oh talking about Donghyuck, did you hear his story about that time he jumped off the roof at one of Mark’s parties?”

“No way Donghyuck doesn’t have the balls to do that-”

“Hey it was a Mark party, anything can happen. But I doubt it’s true.”

“Yea…” Jeno makes a right turn, “his bones would’ve been broken the next day in class, a little suspicious that he came in fine in my opinion. But then again, didn’t Hendery break Mark’s light fixture in the living room? Mark posted it on his story that one time remember?”

“That’s so wild dude… I hope nothing bad happens.”

“Same, I’m getting drained just thinking about it.” 

“But you know what? This is good! We should just experience a party like this at least once in our prime time aye Jeno?” You nudge him lightly on his thigh earning a “mmm” back.

Jeno changes the music station, forgetting he has an aux cord. Mark’s house in the hills is still miles away, numerous drugstores and fast food restaurants passing your car swiftly.

“Wait Jeno can I put this emergency sandwich in your car compartment?” The two of you are nearing a red light.

“Your what now?” he glances at you during the stop to find you  already opening it up, “oh gosh please dont forget it like the emergency cookies or the emergency juice box.” 

You shut the compartment, squishing down the bread so it fit. “But you still ate them didn’t you!? Like after five months when you were starving for a snack so they did have a purpose in the end!” 

You turn your head back to him and the bright light turns green, placing an ethereal glow upon you. He subconsciously begins to smile. 

“Okay you have a point, you have a point.”

You two are able to hear the house before you can even see it. You honestly believed parties like the ones Mark Lee hosts only existed in the movies. But they seem to also exist in the two-story rented house he and his roommate Yuta often rented for occasions like these. You always wondered how he learned such a skill, but that’s a secret he’ll never tell. 

As Jeno rolls up the hill’s parking lot, steering with the both of his palms in order to parallel park between the abundance of cars and others attending, the villa’s full picture comes into view. The house is decorated with out-of-style Christmas lights and is painted an awful bright green color, the grass on the front lawn artificial with fake red and purple plants poking out wherever people didn’t step. Such a huge estate turned into a fun house could only be the doing of its occupants and host. 

Once parked, Jeno clambers outside to open the door for you. “Do you need me to help you with your seatbelt again?”

“Damn Jeno, what a fine gentleman like you are, they don’t make em like you anymore.” you joke with him, laughing at his unamused face. He slams the car door back on you, the sound of you laughing muffling out as he starts walking to the entrance slowly.

“Hey!” he smiles to himself hearing your shoes clank with the cement to catch up to him. He turns his head to look back and your hand runs through his hair aggressively, messing up the overall shape molded from the gel. He sticks his tongue at you and enlarges his nostrils in false annoyance, not bothering to fix himself up anymore. 

The huge wooden doors are already wide open, red solo cups littered amongst the sides of it and a welcome mat that says “kool kids only” beneath your feet. You guys walk in and already there's a certain mood established within the vicinity. As if the world around you has been thrown into a slow motion montage of every party scene in coming-of-age movies. The light fixture has since been replaced to a disco ball, the walls splattering with neon lights which your eyes had to adjust to after a while. Jeno pats your arm and points out the huge stereo system against the broken window that allowed some air to be pushed in amongst all the sweaty bodies. People were already resting their arms against the staircase railings, despite it only being nine o’clock. The glitter and extravagance of it all was fresh and unlike any other party you have attended.

You make sure not to lose sight of Jeno as you guys move closer to the crowd. “Where do you think Mark is?” 

“Probably in the bathroom!” the music and people talking start to drown out your voices. Jeno starts to push through the crowd in order to get to the kitchen or dining room, struggling to not get stuck in between. You use your elbows as a way to distance yourself from people who are getting too close to your liking, but before you know it Jeno is no longer in arm’s reach. 

“Jeno!” you shimmy through the bodies making you a bit uncomfortable with how many people have already touched you while passing. He turns back to wait for you and when you finally make your way beside him he lightly lays his hand on your waist.

“Hey be careful where you’re going.” He doesn’t let go of you until you’ve cleared through the main hall. 

There’s an entire spread of food on the counters. How does anyone afford this much food? The takeout trays are layed out with serving spoons and paper plates have been carelessly placed in one corner, whereas the actual utensils are in the other. If there was one thing Jeno and you have heard about Mark’s parties aside from the crazy shit that goes down, it would be the food. 

Seeing it finally in front of you, the both of you let out a small gasp in sync. Huge smiles making their way to your lips. Jeno is already grabbing you two plates.

“Did you bring the ziplocs?” he hands you your plate while you two make your way to the first tray.

“It’s like you read my mind.” You reveal the ziploc bags in your handbag with a grin of confirmation. He holds them open for you as you begin to pour in the dry snacks first. “We’re like partners in crime right now.”

He wishes you were partners in general. 

“Well, well, well looks like you two are ripping me off! I caught you red handed!” Mark grabs a chip from the tray, cutting in between you and Jeno. “The look on your faces is priceless! Like you’ve been caught red-handed!” Mark starts going into a giggling frenzy indicating he’s a little tipsy. That and the smell off his clothes. “Aren’t my parties the best??” He points over to the bowl in the center, “have you tried the punch? Wait a second--”

His facial expression changes, scanning you both up and down as if he was playing a game of spot the difference. He points at the both of you repeatedly as the two of you stand there dumbfounded at what connection he made. 

“You” he points at Jeno, “and you” he points at you squinting his eyes hard, “why didn’t you tell me you guys are dating?”

Now he’s done it. Mark released the bomb that you and Jeno have not been able to discuss. The two of you flare up in red, ready to argue and instantly defend that that’s not what’s going on. Well, you were ready. Until both you and Jeno see your ex heading over your direction.

Jung Wooyoung.

Jeno will forever remember your ex boyfriend. The three of you had been good friends before you got together. He introduced you two, unknowing of what was going to happen amongst you guys. It was on a Monday night, where the coffee shop wasn’t as busy and that night both of your shifts had matched up. 

Wooyoung had pushed open the glass door instead of pulling it, yelling “Jeno!! That door was playing with my feelings!!” as soon as he entered. But Jeno wasn’t at the cash register. It was you. 

Wooyoung had heard about you of course. You were the cute girl who Jeno always talked about. He had seen your pictures with him on Instagram, but he didn’t know you were this beautiful in real life. 

“I’m gonna ask y/n out.” He had told Jeno after a couple weeks of the three of you hanging out more frequently. “It’s not like you like her right? You only told me you thought she was cute.”

Jeno didn’t know how to respond at that time. He didn’t want to ruin anything for the two of you. But he was sure Wooyoung already knew how he felt. How he has felt for you for a long time. 

“You don’t need to tell me, she’s her own person. She can make whatever decision she wants.”

Jeno remembered Wooyoung asking you out in front of everyone in that damn cafe. He remembered how bashful you got and how you had to cover your face in embarrassment. He tried getting over you then. No matter how much you two tried to include him when hanging out it always ended with him going home first. 

But then the fights came. He didn’t know if it was because you weren’t what Wooyoung totally pictured in his head, or if the two of you just weren’t as compatible as you thought. 

Safe to say, the break up was not pretty. 

You were late to your shift that day. Jeno had checked his watch a couple times within the hour. When you finally entered, you came in silence, not sparing him a glance, eyes glued to the floor all the way to the back. 

And he remembers. He remembers keeping an eye on how you were doing. You were desperately trying to tie your apron around your waist, but he could hear you sniffing despite your back facing him. He went back to making drinks, usually minding his own business when it came to your personal problems within your relationship with Wooyoung. But while making a drink he heard you crash to the floor and immediately checked the back to see you sobbing on the floor. Your apron never got tied. Your knees seemed as if they were being hammered down bit by bit, your body collapsing within itself. Your sobbing made his own heart breaking into pieces at the sight of yours being torn apart. 

He places his arms around your back, embracing you in a way where he didn’t see your face. He crouches so that he resembles a blanket wrapped around you. “What happened?” His voice is scared to speak. 

“Wooyoung” your voice is jagged and choked up, “h-he was in bed.” the more you wail, the more Jeno squeezes your back, the rhythm of his heartbeat pressed against you to calm you down. “With someone else--” 

Jeno couldn’t believe it. Wooyoung couldn’t do that. He refused to believe his good friend could ever cheat. How shitty, vile, disgusting. He can’t believe it. Not his Wooyoung.

Jeno doesn’t know that Wooyoung chased after you and saw you two on the floor. He observed the two of you holding each other. He snickered to himself, unbelieving. The answer was always in front of him all along. He left without a word or appearance. 

It hadn’t registered within your head that Wooyoung was within ten feet of you two again. 

“Well?” Mark’s voice raises in excitement, eyeing the two of you. You eye Jeno, searching his face for some sort of response, not knowing what to do in this moment. You’re stuck. 

Jeno finally looks down at your face, frozen and afraid of confrontation. Wooyoung is getting closer to the three of you. Fuck it. Jeno wraps his arm around your shoulder, causing you to defrost under his touch. “Sorry we didn’t tell you Mark.” Jeno smiles at him stiffly, then you wrap your arm around his waist. 

“Yes.” You say in strong confirmation. Wooyoung is now in ear-shot. “Jeno and I are together.” The word “together” falls out of your mouth effortlessly and proud. Wooyoung stops walking towards you guys. He stands around the corner diagonal to you and pretends to be absorbed in the punch Mark was talking about earlier. 

“Wow! Finally! I knew you guys were going to end up together eventually, I was hoping Jeno would eventually let you know how he feels.” Mark pats Jeno’s shoulder, the expression like a proud father, “well Ima go, see you lovebirds around.”

Jeno starts to free you from his tender grip, but you keep his waist glued to you. He gets the message and moves in front of you and grabs the counter behind you so that Wooyoung is unable to see you from his back. Under his gaze the blush runs from your face to places unseen. After saying something as bold as that things are never going to be the same. After hearing what Mark said, every moment has become unrelentingly uneasy, but in a flustering, butterfly-inducing type of way. You stammer as you bring yourself close to Jeno’s ear, holding the nape of his neck to whisper, “thank you Jeno.”

His hot breath runs chills down your shoulders, “of course.”

“Is it okay if we pretend we’re together for the rest of the night? Play it safe?” 

Jeno takes a deep breath, you can tell he’s reluctant at first, before he breathes out in what resembles a soft sigh, “deal. Just make sure you remember to take back your emergency sandwich by tonight.”

Your laughter flourishes up into Jeno’s ear, your head moving back to your prior position. You lightly push his shoulder that doesn’t budge as he continues to adore you and silently laugh with you. 

Wooyoung walks away from the scene. 

You end up pushing Jeno’s shoulders so that he could lead the way. The two of you navigate a couch lodged in a corner in one of the living spaces upstairs. It was less chaotic than downstairs, but the couch still had oddly suspicious stains all over it, and people were still getting wasted. You plop him down onto the couch first, holding his shoulders, until he takes ahold of your forearm to take you down with him. 

Hours are spent talking about anything and everything, your head finding its way on Jeno’s shoulder as he takes out his phone to show you a game he started to play recently. When you talked, the bottom of your jaw tickled but he didn’t ask you to remove it. You press your nose into his shirt, your voice muffled, “do you smell that?”

“Smell what? The alcohol?”

“Yea, everyone is getting wasted, the smell is really pungent.” 

“Do you want to drink? I’m going to be driving so you can if you want.”

“I want to, but you know I shouldn’t, and you shouldn’t be letting me because remember last time I tried to and then..gosh.”

“Ohhh yea the banana--” you clamp his mouth shut with your palm and raise your hand to look at him seriously.

“That’s enough of that Lee Jeno.” 

He playfully protrudes his lips out so that he kisses the inside of your palm, making you retract it in surprise. He just laughs at you trying to wipe it off on his pants instead of your own. You look at him, an expression that is supposed to show how annoyed you are supposedly being there (spoiler: you just looked funny to him). 

After catching his breath from laughing at you he slips, “Man, I didn’t drink but why do I feel so drunk on you?” 

Realizing what he had said, suddenly both of you are silent, awkwardly glancing around the room fighting off the feelings that have been slowly seeping out bit by bit throughout the night. 

“Maybe I do need a drink” you mutter under your breath, fanning yourself. He takes the hand that you’re using to fan yourself, your palms now sweaty from the skin contact. 

“y/n, do you want to dance with me?”

And on that note, the two of you clumsily made your way downstairs. 

Jeno thought he would always be the second lead in your life. The one who never gets the girl no matter how much he likes her. But the thing was, he was fine with being your friend. He thought he could probably go his whole life without needing to be with you romantically because he cared more about you as a person in general. Whatever made you happy made him happy. But what if he made you happy? What would he do then?

Now that the two of you were busting it down on the dance floor, gracefully or not, he realized that tonight this was just a party for the two of you. A party for two. You take his hand and twirl him around in circles and he starts swaying his hips to the beat.

“Dammmnnnnn” you start hyping him up, “get intoooo itttt!” 

He’s so embarrassed but he’s enjoying himself, the humidity making you guys sweat and hair stick up in weird places. The two of you dance hip to hip, up grooving side to side with one another until you’re molded into one. 

He ends up holding you close to him, taking you by surprise. You giggle, not knowing what he was doing but his voice is low, “he’s coming.”

Your body stops moving. Reliving the devastation you had once felt without any closure. Jeno keeps you faced the opposite direction, safe in his arms. But you had enough. You were sick of hiding. It was time to get into control. You softly break away from Jeno and turn around to face Wooyoung for yourself.

He’s the same. 

“y/n. Jeno. what a surprise, you guys know Mark too?”

“Yea we do.” Jeno smiles at him, but you could tell it wasn’t sincere.

“How long has it been since we were all in the same room, huh?” Wooyoung keeps looking at the two of you. It made you mad for some reason. As if he was piercing remarks and judgements through his eyes. 

“I don’t really want to talk to you Wooyoung.” Wow. You haven’t said that name in so long.

“Ohhh I see what’s going on here” he gets closer to Jeno, the music starts swelling and the air has become unbelievably stuffy, “how’s my old friend Jeno?” he puts a hand on his shoulder and Jeno shrugs it off.

Wooyoung smirks to the side, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. He looks Jeno dead in the eyes glaring at him, “I fucking knew it. How you two were just gonna start seeing each other after I leave the picture, took a year or two but you did it Jeno,” he scoffs, “I knew something was up with you two since the beginning, I shouldn't have even asked. Look where the fuck you guys are now.” 

Jeno holds your hand to gently guide you behind him as Wooyoung inches closer to both of your faces. Wooyoung snickers again. 

“What are you?” he asks Jeno, his eyebrows knitted and face uncomfortably close to him. He pushes Jeno’s shoulder, “what are you?” he pushes Jeno’s shoulder with more force. Jeno does not budge, you squeeze his palm to remind him to stay calm. By now a crowd has formed at the sound of Wooyoung’s voice. “I said, what are you?”

You grab Wooyoung’s shoulder and press it firmly to the point it might have left a mark, “hey, enough.” He pushes your hand off of him like a lifeless bug. He laughs at you mockingly. 

“hEY, enOUgH,” he imitates your voice, “shut up you fucking whore.”

You don’t know what comes quicker, the word “whore” or Jeno socking Wooyoung’s face as it leaves his mouth. After Wooyoung’s on the floor, Jeno straddles him in order to fight him off. Wooyoung is the one who undercuts him this time, his knuckles cracking in the process. Jeno’s face is smoosed by Wooyoung’s other hand, making his nose start to bleed. Jeno hastily grabs the collar of Wooyoung’s shirt and lifts him to face him, about to throw another punch. 

“Jeno get off the floor. He’s not worth my time or yours.” 

Jeno’s fist shakes violently close to Wooyoung’s head for a couple more seconds before dropping it to get up and go to you. 

“I don’t need you, Wooyoung. I never did. I never will. Maybe learn how to respect yourself first before letting yourself go like this. Jeno, let’s go.” 

You grab ahold of Jeno’s hand and start walking out to the parking lot, but before you do, you turn on your heel just to flip him off one last time. It’s what your past self deserved. 

The moment you walk out and chilling night air hits your lungs, your body heaves and you release Jeno’s hand in order to place both of yours on your thighs. Your breath is shaky and you’re absolutely terrified, hot tears raining down your cheeks into every crevice. Jeno starts rubbing circles into the small of your back to comfort you, “I’m so proud of you.” His voice is like a warm blanket wrapped around you, soothing you like a cup of tea. He escorts you to the car after your tears come to a halt. On the car ride home, he had given you a spare shirt he had in the backseat you could wipe your tears and blow your nose in. He puts on music so that you aren’t embarrassed about it. The car ride home is always faster than the first one. Before you knew it, he was already parked in front of your apartment. He takes off his seatbelt so he could face you fully. 

“Do you feel better?” you could hear the concern delicately laced in his voice. 

“Why are you asking me?? How about you?? Are you okay?” you start hyperventilating, “man you shouldn't have gotten hurt!” You’re about to start crying again, gosh you were such a mess.

“Hey, hey, hey it’s okay.” He comes closer to you and tucks a strand of hair stuck to the dried tears on your face behind your ear. It calms you down. 

“Come inside Jeno, let me help you put ointment on the scratches.” 

Jeno has always been beautiful. Even when your ex-boyfriend smashed his face he was beautiful. But you’ve always treasured how beautiful he was on the inside the most. It was too scary to lose someone like him. Maybe that’s why you always fought back how you felt. But holding back how you felt wasn’t easy when he was in your bathroom and you were touching his face sweetly wiping the cuts and applying cat bandaids. “Are you okay.” you would weakly ask more as a reassurance that he was, indeed, okay and going to be okay rather than a question. He wished you took care of him like this forever. Made him come inside more. Let him hold your hand more. 

He always knew deep down that he was, and is, and probably will always be, so in love with you. 

Parting ways after the night was over was extremely difficult for some reason. He shakes your hand as you begin to close the door, not letting go and allowing your fingertips to slide off each other before finally parting. 

“Goodnight Jeno, drive safe.”

“Goodnight y/n, sleep safe.”

The door closes and you’re left cold and in the darkness staring at it as if it was Jeno. Your mind runs, but not as fast as your heart thinking about him and everything about him and what you two have been through over the years. Your hand is on the handle of your door now, certain he had already left. You're about to open it again, but loud knocks stream in onto the door, pounding into your eardrums. You swing it open with no hesitation. 

Jeno stands before you, his hair still messy, his jacket off from getting too hot at the villa, the cat band aids still fresh. His lips are parted and it seems like he’s as out of breath as you are. He’s staring at you like he’s seeing you for the first time and it makes your composure crumble.

“H-hey.” you finally make out.

“Hey.”

“I-i- forgot my emergency sandwich! that's why i opened the door-”

“I just want to see you.” 

His words scatter around your skin and into your insides, encompassing you. You take a moment to process this.

“I came back because I want to see you.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him really tight, catching him off guard for a bit until he reciprocates the hug ten fold. “You make me smile until my cheeks hurt. I want to see you by my side too.”

He pulls away for a second, “really?” you shake your head yes, “really? Are you being serious?” 

“Yes! I am being serious! Why would I lie!?” 

And if you were going to lie, Jeno presses his lips gently onto your smile before you could even try to. When he pulls away both of you stand in awe, the feeling too surreal. You pull him back in by the nape of his neck, intensely, as if to make sure this wasn’t just a dream. Your feet find themselves back tracking into the house, his shoes being kicked off as he closes the door behind you.

Safe to say, you had a party for two on your own. 

[honeym4rk]

station (jjh)

college! jaehyun x reader word count: 3.0k summary: four times you find yourself alone with jaehyun at a bus station.

There is comfort in the silence.

With every step you take, there is a crunch of fallen, juniper leaves at your feet. Your canvas tote bag is looped around your shoulder, your fingers clinging to the straps like it would shield you from the awkwardness of the current circumstances.

He’s got his hands hidden in the cavity of his hoodie. His knuckle cracking is sporadic, and you cringe at just how many times they’ve made an encore in the past two minutes.

You really should have begged Mark to tag along and leave the shindig so that this wouldn’t have happened- but alas, the boy was still hooked by the prospect of winning the next round of Mario Kart against Donghyuck. ‘It does some good to my self-esteem,’ he’d said. 

So here you are, sauntering bashfully to the bus stop with Jaehyun.

“So, uh- what bus are you taking?” You muster up the courage to speak up after a few minutes of painful reticence. 

“I’d have to take 922 or 153 from the opposite stop to get back to hall,” he sighs. It’s clear that he reciprocates the weird, distinctive tension here.

“And you?” He faces you with his raised eyebrows and you’re baffled by the sudden eye contact made. Your eyes dart elsewhere.

“Oh, I’m taking 922 from here.” You nod your head imperceptibly at the bus stop ahead of you.

A few metres away, there’s a zebra crossing, and you thank your lucky stars that you’re finally about to part ways. Oh, you’re sure Jaehyun is a nice person and all, but that doesn’t change the fact that the unspoken, kind enmity in the air is capable of being taut so hard around your neck that you asphyxiate. 

Ten more steps. Come on.

Five steps. 

Three steps.

“I’ll see you next ti-” 

Yet he doesn’t stop at the crossing. Instead, he continues his stride in tandem with yours towards the station. You stop in your tracks, slowly gesturing towards the beaconing street light with the hand you raised to bid adieu. 

“Aren’t you going to, you know..?” Eyes hinting at the yellow streaks of light, at the bus stop across the road, anywhere away from his own. Jaehyun notices your halt and follows suit.

“Well, I mean, Mark did ask me to see that you got home safe....”

You immediately wrack your brain for an appropriate response to his chivalry. It’s unclear how you should react; he really caught you by surprise. And from the way he’s gnawing at his inner lip and raising a hand to scratch the nape of his neck, you infer that he’s abashed too. All you manage is a small, “Oh,” as more silence ensues, before you start to blabber,

“No, no, thanks, Jaehyun, but it’s really fine, you don’t have to.”

His lips are taut into a firm, straight line and he lets out a surreptitious hum.

“Let me just wait ‘til you board your bus. Is that okay? It’s getting pretty late.”

You want to vehemently object. 

And you’re about to, but you let out a consenting “Yeah, alright.”

He’s invading your desiderated solace- yet something about his offer seems so genuine and saccharine that you comply out of curiosity. You’d heard things about Jaehyun around in school before, good things, especially seeing that he was well acquainted with your friends like Mark, but you’d never really encountered him until tonight, thanks to Donghyuck’s birthday celebration. Being a Linguistics student, fate hadn’t really presented many opportunities for him to meet someone majoring in Pharmacy. 

Therefore- you think to yourself- it wouldn’t be so bad. It’s unlikely that you’ll actually talk to him again, since you’ll probably never be within a radius of at least ten metres from him again. It’s alright, it’s okay. You decide to let him be a gentleman.

So you bask in the quietude shrouding the two of you, as you sit on the metal form, awaiting the arrival of a yearned 922. 

After all, there is the slightest hint of comfort in the silence.

There is also comfort in the familiarity.

You’re sure there’s a sense of déjà vu. It’s a similar scene to what had ensued a few weeks ago, at least, and you’re definitely surprised to be here again, with him . However, you’ve both abandoned the multi-layered cake of unease. It’s almost been completely devoured now. Fortunately.

Jaehyun’s chuckling relentlessly- nearly doubled over laughing- as you recount the earlier occurrences of the Friday night. 

“Yeah, no, but I’d give anything to see the look on Donghyuck’s face again.” His eyes crinkle into small crescents as he runs a hand through his silver hair.

“He looked so confident that it was going to work and I’d already told him otherwise, but I really don’t know what he expected.” 

Tonight, there had been an effort to study in Donghyuck’s apartment; considering the looming exam season. This purpose was indeed fulfilled, to some extent. 

Then Donghyuck, feeling rather ravenous, decided that he wanted to indulge in a quick and easy two-ingredient Oreo mug cake. The video tutorial truly looked too good to be true- you’d seen multiple YouTubers debunk the content-farm produced recipes. 

The wide-eyed boy was too desperate, however, as he credulously decided to fill his mug with crushed oreos and milk to the brim. He swore that it looked and sounded promising until a loud Pop! reverberated in the kitchen 30 seconds into heating.

Everyone gathered around to watch Donghyuck cry over his spilt milk, literally, as his appliance perpetually emitted smoke, its glass door burst open. Burnt mounds of moist black and white cookies were thrown at the white, metal walls of the microwave. Donghyuck fanned the plumes of smoke hastily.

“It looks like a volcano erupted.” Mark added, coughing, as he tried to swallow the chuckle bubbling at the back of his throat.

“Dude- I don’t want to say I told you so but,” You began to implore, before Donghyuck interjected.

“Maybe I should just try again, I think the microwave setting just wasn’t right.” 

And so he did- but to no avail.

The two of you approach the tiny station side by side, and you relish the warm, fuzzy feeling establishing in your stomach. Not quite butterflies, but maybe more like a tiny sprout popping out of the ground.

“To be fair, though, it didn’t taste half as bad as it looked.”

You snort. “Sure, because it’s literally sugar and milk with a dash of hidden carcinogens.” 

He lets out a low chortle. Jaehyun nails the bellowing dad laugh right down to a T, and some part of you finds this endearing.

A flash of bright light emerges as you look up from your feet. 922 has arrived and you’re rummaging through your bag for your bus card. 

“I feel like I left my card at Donghyuck’s, shit,”

The bus halts. 

“Here, use mine, I’ve got a spare.” Jaehyun offers without a second thought, pulling his card from the pocket of his denim jeans. 

“Go on, the bus driver’s waiting.”

You would have thought this through for a little while longer, but he was right. A scowl that said ‘Stop wasting my damn time,’ is plastered on the driver’s face, and it urges you to carefully pick the card slotted between his fingers. 

“Thanks so much- I’ll return it tomorrow, or something.” Your eyebrows furrow together and you clench your teeth together in a grimace.

“Yeah! Yeah, whenever. Good night, Y/N. Get home safe,”

“You too, thanks again!”

Boarding the bus hastily, you wave at him through the glass door as the bus sets off. He doesn’t leave until you’re out of sight.

You can’t help but grin as you examine the portrait on his student pass. He’s handsome, skin clear and glossy, hair parted such that there are a bunch of strands obstructing his forehead. It’s black in this image. You wonder how many colours it's been dyed. His dimples replicate the poked slime in the myriad of videos you’ve seen, and his cheekbones are incredibly prominent. 

It dawns on you that you don’t have his number, or follow him on Instagram, or have any means to contact him at all. You guess that you’ll have to fish something from Mark, but Jaehyun seems to beat you to it.

Unknown, [2340]: hey this is jaehyun lol hope you get back safe :-)

A sudden flash of the many possible outcomes this could entail breezes past your mind. You’re quite uncertain about how this will play out, and you unlock your phone to reply.

Y/N, [2341]: hii hahah thanks again! i can return your card tomorrow, just lmk where i can drop by

Jaehyun, [2341]: yeah sure, i think i’ll be cooped up in starbucks doing work w my friends lol 

Jaehyun, [2341]: u can join if ud like :o

There is comfort in the unknown.

There is comfort in the noise.

Your whole herd of boisterous friends are walking uphill from yet another study session at Donghyuck’s- there’s been quite a number of them since the first. You’re honestly amused by how many people can fit in his apartment. The study group has expanded from a mere four to a whopping seven people in total.

Thankfully, there haven’t been any microwave oven explosions since then, but you’ve had your good share of fun and company, and more importantly, productivity. 

The pack of young adults currently divulging the extensive, latest gossip and hall horror stories, you and Jaehyun stray further behind. You’re trying to listen in and pick apart information, but you’ve joined the conversation a bit too late for context. 

“Oh my god, Lia, you’re going to hate hearing this, but…” Jungwoo begins, his voice entering a decrescendo.

“But Jeno has a girlfriend? Yeah, I figured.” Lia wails. “I saw them together in the library the other day, being all cute and shit. My heart shattered .” She emphasises this by hitting Jungwoo’s shoulder out of pure frustration. 

“How long have they been together, though?” Ryujin quips, to which she gets a reply, but you try to drown out the rest of their conversation.

You tug at the arm of Jaehyun’s sweatshirt, and he leans closer to you as you query, “Who’s Jeno, again?”

“Cute dude that she keeps bumping into at hall, I think,” he mumbles. His words are semi-intelligible, because of the commotion right in front of you.

“Sorry? I didn’t catch that.” The infinite frequencies are hard to tune out, and it gets increasingly arduous to do so when Ryujin gasps.

“Oh shit, the bus is here!” Your friends are immediately ready to break into a sprint, but Jaehyun’s feet seem heavy as he continues to meander with you. 

“Jae, aren’t you coming? The next one’s in thirty minutes!” Jungwoo shouts as they begin to dash across the road.

“It’s fine, go on! I’m just a little lazy. See you!” Jaehyun dismisses him with the wave of his extended hand, and receives an incredulous look. The lame excuse confuses you, bamboozles you, but you wave goodbye to your friends anyway.

It’s been long since you’ve been caught alone here at the bus stop with Jaehyun- you usually head home with Mark every Friday. He’s not here, though. He’s crashed at Donghyuck’s for tonight.

“Uhm, what was that ?” You chuckle nervously, the little sprout in your belly magically reappearing. Truth be told, after the many lighthearted, late-night messages exchanged over the past few weeks, and after unravelling Jaehyun bit by bit, the sprout has grown into a pocket-sized garden. It brings its own butterflies, but you don’t quite have the audacity to admit this. There’s a different kind of trickiness lingering in the air tonight.

“Well, you know- Mark…and it’s- it’s getting late, kinda.” He’s timorous tonight. Under the luminescence of the bus station’s lamps, you see the pink tint land on the tips of his ears, something you’ve learnt happens when he’s rather shy. 

“I wanted to ask you something, too, though.”

“Okay, shoot.” You take a seat. He sits a modest distance away from you, cracking his knuckles instinctively.

“Well, I uhm, I’m not quite sure how you’ll react to this but,” he licks his lips.

“But?” You encourage him to carry on, staring as you await his continuation.

He looks as if he’s got the words at the tip of his tongue, the sea of sentences about to overflow from his mouth, and they’re spilling when he starts speaking again.

“Would you-” You listen intently, attempting to read his lips. However, he’s cut off by the booming wails of a velocious ambulance. You whip your head around to watch the vehicle pass by. 

Jaehyun breathes sharply, exhaling in frustration. The cries subside, so he tries again. 

“Y/N,” he clears his throat, and you face him once more.

“Yeah, sorry.”

“I was wondering if-” 

A fire truck zooms past the bus stop, and your attention is grabbed by the monotonous siren that raids your ears. Jaehyun notices your bus approaching, and he panics. The air-raid isn’t becoming distant; the truck’s obstructed by the imposing red-light flashing. There’s only so much time left to ask what he’s been dying to- and he can’t believe he’s getting cockblocked by the emergency services right now. 

You’re hearing Jaehyun spill a string of words but they’re incoherent- all you can seem to comprehend is the blaring repetitions that are relentless.

“What?!” You shout, fighting past the cacophony. “I can’t hear you!” You’re signing this to him, pointing to your ear and shaking your hand vigorously.

Your bus halts before you. Jaehyun’s in an absolute frenzy now. He doesn’t want to do this online. Something about hiding behind his screen sounds so ingenuine to him, and you’re already standing, shit, but he can’t win against the absolute pandemonium and doesn’t want to embarrass himself in front of the small crowd that’s alighted the bus, but he’s also not sure when he’ll get to talk to you in private like this again, 

So he clamours.

“Do You! Want To Go Out! With Me!” He’s cupping his large hands around his mouth, screaming into the makeshift amplifier with all his might, as you walk towards the front doors of the bus.

You look like a deer caught in headlights, eyes wide open in disbelief as you gawk at the boy who’s sheepishly glancing at everyone and using his hand to defend himself from their stares. The butterflies that have erupted in you are merciless.

And then you burst into a fit of laughter- Jaehyun curses the sirens for piercing through such a pleasant sound- and you nod profusely, one foot already boarding the bus.

The glass doors shut close, and you’re enthusiastically gesturing to your handphone, waving at him. The bus whizzes away.

He’s shell-shocked, and he’s unable to will his hands in drawing his phone from his pocket. The sudden series of vibrations brings him back to his senses.

Y/N (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝),[2257]: WAIT ask me again

Y/N (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝), [2257]: idk if i heard u right

Jaehyun, [2258]: k

Y/N (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝), [2258]: dude come back </3

Y/N (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝), [2258]: YES lol

Y/N (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝), [2257]: yeeeeeeees

It heavily hinders Jaehyun that night, but there is comfort in the noise.

There is comfort in the isolation.

It’s only the blinding fluorescent lights and the cool breeze presenting company at the bus stop- you’re grateful that the occasional cars speeding by are helping you break down the very last walls of tension between the two of you, if there are any.

Whoosh. 

“I really enjoyed today.” He smiles and steals a quick glance at you. You’re at a different bus stop now- a month later and you’re amazed that you’ve gone out with Jaehyun at least three times now.

You catch the slight twinkle in his eyes as he scoots a whole foot nearer towards you on the cool metal bench. The distance between the two of you is closing slowly yet your heart rate is augmenting. It’s accelerating now- faster than any of the rambunctious vehicles that race down the road, their engines revving dirtily.

Whoosh. A black BMW zooms past you both and you take the opportunity to reciprocate the cheeky glimpse.

“Me too.”

There’s fumbling of fingers and twiddling of your thumbs before you notice the sudden influx of light and buzzing and realise that your bus has arrived. Pure languish rushes through every vein in your body- you don’t want this night to end.

Jaehyun begins to stand and shoots a quizzical expression when you don’t follow suit. 

“Let’s wait for the next one,” you grin, your legs swinging back and forth as you continue to glue yourself on the elevated seat.

The sound of his chuckle envelopes you into a warm hug- it’s deep, and strong, yet soft at the same time- and then you’re pulled to your feet by your wrists before he embraces you with confident hesitation too.

“Is this- it’s okay, right?” He just wants to be sure.

“Yeah- very.” You breathe, and his boyish smell fills your lungs. There is difficulty in naming what scented cologne he’s used today; but you devote no more attention. You just wallow in the tangy, mellow fragrance that has permeated your senses.

He’s got his arms coiled around your waist, his palm extended to press your back closer to him. You’re playing with the sharp, freshly cut hairs on the back of his neck. You run your fingers through them and he dives his head further into the crook of your neck. Jaehyun’s muffled voice is tickling your shoulder-

“Your hair smells really nice.” The corners of your lips edge upwards into an unrelenting grin.

“Thank God.”

There is comfort in Jaehyun.

[illeee-girl]

La La(chimolala) Land Chapter Two: Over My Iced Vanilla Latte

jimin x reader genre: fluff, fluff, and more fluff word count: 1.5k warnings: none

[Inspired by La La Land]

Read on Wattpad

Read on Ao3

“I still don’t understand,” Jessenia says, stopping in between generous applications of mascara to shoot you a doubtful look. “You met some Korean tourist dude on the top of City Hall, just gave him a copy of Red Writer, and now you’re meeting him at a Starbucks to hear his feedback?”

You attempt to square your shoulders, though it doesn’t quite work. Your roommate—sweet as she is—can be a little intimidating. “That’s about the size of it.”

“That’s about the size of it,” she mocks. “Listen to yourself! You sound just like Sybil from Downton Abbey.”

“Life goal achieved, then.”

Jessenia lets out a heavy sigh. “I just can’t believe you literally handed a complete stranger a copy of your work. He could totally just steal it! Sell it to a film studio, or make a movie out of it himself—”

“That seems a little unlikely, seeing as how I’m unable to sell it to anyone.” She walks over to where you sit on your bed, completely interrupting her makeup routine. Now you know it’s serious. “Y/N. I’m only telling you this because I love you. Be careful. You don’t know squat about this guy.” “I do indeed! I’ve watched him walk away. He definitely does squats.” If you’d delivered that line in any other situation, Jessenia would have been doubled over in laughter. You always made her laugh. But this time, it didn’t have that effect. She sashayed over to her closet, digging through halter dresses and high heels. She had an audition that afternoon. “Don’t let some cute butt distract you from the reason you came to LA.” You suppress a laugh—but not a smile. “Jess,” you start, forcing yourself to be serious. “You’ve known me since college. You know I’ve never let anything—let alone anyone—distract me. This is just . . . I don’t know, Jess, it feels like a breakthrough. An outsider’s perspective will be helpful. Maybe he’ll give me an idea for something—something good—that’ll finally sell Red Writer.” “Maybe,” she responds, “though he sounds like just a himbo to me.” “We don’t know squat about him, remember?” She rolls her eyes, but smiles. “Even himbos can do squats, Y/N. Boy ever can they do them.” _________________________ The Metro ride downtown is longer than you remember—probably because you don’t have a manuscript to pour over to pass the time. Jimin has the only print copy of Red Writer. That fact—and Jessenia’s words—make you more than a little anxious. Sure, you’ve got soft copies backed up on your hard drive and files placed on approximately 5 USB drives—you’re not stupid—but him having the paper manuscript feels a little . . . strange. Out of place. Intimate, almost. No pantsuit this time. There’s no need for it. This isn’t a business meeting—at least, not technically. You opted for a pair of loose-fitting jeans, a pastel purple t-shirt, and a whitewashed denim jacket. It’s not a bad look on you. But when you walk down the Grand Park stairs and spot him through the fountain, you realize you’ve greatly underestimated the level of fashion called for in the situation. He’s in ripped, black jeans; a thin, white shirt that somehow looks both loose and form-fitting; and a silvery-gray leather jacket. And he’s wearing jewelry—a Harry Styles amount of jewelry. Stud earrings. A black Chanel necklace. Rings on almost every finger. Like before, you think: Who is this guy? He sees you across the way and waves. Too late to turn back and try to throw together a better outfit. You’re suddenly mindful of how bulky your denim jacket is, but why should it matter? You fit in with the crowd of Californians much better, while he sticks out like a sore thumb in that getup. A surprisingly sexy sore thumb. Never mind that. You’re the writer in this situation. You’re the one who’s created something amazing. He’s just the reader. Assert your dominance, Y/N.

“Hey,” he says as you approach. “Love the jacket.” “Thanks. Nice . . .” you trail off, gesturing at him awkwardly, not sure where to look. “Nice outfit.” “You don’t think it’s too much?” “You look like you should be riding horses down Rodeo Drive with Usher.” He puts a hand over his heart. “You have no idea how much of a compliment that is for me.” Enough chitchat. The sun is starting to get lower in the sky, and you don’t particularly want to have to ride the Metro home in the dark. Besides, you’re starting to look at him—like, really look at him. And you think—though you figure you’re probably mistaken—that he’s starting to look at you. “Want a drink?” He asks. “I’m buying.” “Too late in the day for caffeine,” you respond. You need to make this as fast as possible. “Then get a decaf, or a tea.” He opens the door to the Starbucks, leaving you no choice. Once you get your drinks, you pick a table back outside; the weather’s too nice to pass up the opportunity. Besides, whoever’s running that Starbucks chose to play mood music over the loudspeaker. Quite the departure from the ambient, helps-you-focus stuff they usually go for, you think. The current playlist, in the current situation, with the current company, will surely not foster productivity. “So, what comments do you have about Red Writer? Is Marianne too headstrong? Are the bandmates too stereotypical? Is it too early 2000s to appeal to a modern audience?” He holds up a hand. “Whoa, slow down. I have yet to touch my Americano.” You decide to be straight with him. “I don’t have time to prioritize coffee over work. Every second that passes, someone else gets closer to becoming a successful screenwriter, and I lag behind while they take my place at the writer’s table—” “Whoa there. Take a sip of that iced vanilla latte, and breathe.” You do as he says, but not without rolling your eyes. After a swig, you look down at your cup. You have to look somewhere. The setting sun’s starting to backlight his blonde hair. It’s as if nature’s purposefully trying to complement his beauty. “I loved it,” he says softly. You look up. He’s smiling, and it’s real. It’s genuine. He isn’t teasing. “You do?” “Are you kidding?” His dark eyes light up as he begins to recount the plot of your screenplay. “Nerdy college girl is a journalist by day, songwriter by night. Her best friend’s in a small band from the Valley, and she basically begs this friend to let her write their lyrics, so she can get experience points. The band absolutely takes off, and the girl gets tons of gigs as a lyricist for struggling performers who’ve recently signed with big labels—only to find out that her real dream is to sit in coffee shops and play the simple, acoustic music she writes herself, just to uplift and relax people.” It takes you a minute to register that he’s praising your work. You’d forgotten what that felt like. It’d been years since someone had given you positive feedback—outside of your close inner circle of family members and roommates, that is. Panel after panel of producers had taken one glance, said “no,” and put your manuscripts through the shredder. But no more. Someone not only liked what you’d written. He loved it. “I devoured it in one night. Couldn’t go to bed until I finished it.” “That’s how I felt when I read Pride and Prejudice for the first time!” “Nerd.” You choose to disregard that last little comment. Someone felt the same way about your work as you’d felt about Jane Austen’s. I’ve made it! “I just have one little criticism.” Uh oh. Here it came. “What’s that?” “Your description of the bandmates . . .  it’s not accurate at all.” _________________________ “So let me get this straight,” the manager of the Starbucks in Grand Park stared Park Jimin in the eye. “You’ll pay me how much to play this CD?” “You heard what I said,” responded the fashionable, blonde Korean man standing on the other side of the counter. “And I’ve got cash.” The manager shook his head, but acquiesced. “Okay, man. I’d be a fool not to do it, I guess. You know how much cannabis that kind of money can get me?” Jimin chose to ignore that last little bit. “One question, though. Why? What you’ve got written on here seems pretty standard. Chris Brown, Boyz II Men. . .” “It’s . . . none of your concern.” Jimin ran a hand through his hair, looking a little nervous. “But since you’re being so kind, I’ll tell you this much: it’s undoubtedly worth it.”