#like a dad going out for milk and cigarettes and never returning

[canisonicscrewyou]

Creating a dedicated space for me and my mutuals and everyone else to occasionally say one(1) thing in the group chat and otherwise stare at everyone in an unsettling manner.

[beautifulmadnesss]

"Gravity Happens" The Summer I Turned Pretty Imagine Fisher!Reader

Summary: Suzannah's cancer from the perspective of her youngest child and only daughter.

warning: death and loss

I figured it out first, being the pessimist, I immediately noticed when my mom's energy started fading again. One night after picking me up from a party when I was drunk, I confessed my fears to Conrad. He's the realist, so he didn't immediately believe it, but after paying closer attention, he saw the same things I did. Neither of us talked about it after that. We both just drank a lot and shared cigarettes in the quiet of the night. Jere was the last to figure it out. I think it's because he was always the optimist, just like our mom. Immediately, he wanted to confront her about it, just yelling it out at dinner one night.

"How could you not tell us the cancer is back?" He accused.

"What?" Belly and Steven asked at the same time.

"Kids, let's go into the living room okay?" My mom responded gently. The four of us got up and moved into the living room, while the Conklin's made their way upstairs.

I was already very tipsy, something I had learned to cover well, but tonight there was no hiding it as I snapped. "You can't leave. It's not fair. I hate you. We are all falling apart because we are just kids and we can't carry everyones fucking secrets. It's suffocating. You were so mad at dad for making us lie about his girlfriend and you're doing the exact same thing. Except you just want to lie to us and then just disappear one day. You are so selfish. Did you ever stop to think how we would feel? How it would feel for us?"

"Stop." Jeremiah warned, stepping towards me while Conrad wrapped an arm around our mom.

"No, I'm so tired of all this bullshit. Did you ever think how we would feel when one morning you just didn't wake up? When we went in to check on you and found you dead?" She flinched, but it felt so good to finally just explode that I couldn't stop as the tears burned my cheeks. "Then we would be all alone with a deadbeat dad and no one else. No one to take perfect little Jeremiah to his practices, no one to to sit up worrying about Conrad when he stays out all night with some girl and no one to-" My throat closed up, but I tried again, "No one to-" It was like my entire body gave up at once. My voice broke, my knees buckled, and I fell to the floor sobbing. 

My mom was holding me within seconds and soon after both of my brothers joined in. We were all just holding each other and crying together. She knew I hadn’t meant any of the things I had said in the same way she never held onto anything I said to her when we were fighting when I was younger. I always got so angry when I was hurt or scared. Now, I was all of the above. My mom was dying of cancer. Thirty seconds ago I was overflowing with emotion and now I just felt numb. I don’t even really know what I was going to say. There were so many things I had looked forward to doing with my mom. Things I would never get to do. 

“We need you.” I cried. 

“I’m right here, sunshine. I’m right here.” She said, squeezing us tighter.

We stayed like that for a while, none of us saying anything else, just quietly crying and holding each other tightly. My mom was the first to break the silence, kissing each of us on the tops of our heads and then declaring "that's enough, crying for now. We are going to do our best to enjoy the time we have left together." She stood and moved toward the kitchen before turning back to us. "Who wants to make some waffles?" She smiled, one that none of us returned, but we did follow her into the kitchen.

She started pulling out the ingredients while softly humming a cheery tune. I took the middle stool while each of my brothers sat on either side of me.

"Jere, will you get the eggs, milk, and butter from the fridge?" She asked, setting the dry ingredients onto the counter.

"Sure, mom." He gave her a small smile in return

"As for you two, you can choose to sit there and sulk or you can help us make some delicious waffles." Conrad and I shared a look before getting up and helping get the rest of the materials together.

The motions felt empty. Our Saturday mornings as kids were always filled with tantalizing smells, warmth, and laughter. Now, it felt like all I could think about was every moment with her could be our last. All I wanted to do was curl up in bed with a drink and make everything else go away.

I felt the powdery substance coat my face and spun around to see my mom and Jeremiah laughing, each with a hand covered in flour.

"Seriously?" Conrad spoke up, voicing my thoughts.

"What's the matter? Scared of a little competition?" My mom teased with a mischievous smile.

Conrad reacted first, diving for the eggs and handing one to me, but not before Jeremiah hit me in the face with even more flour. I quickly retaliated by launching an egg that landed with a satisfying crack, spilling goopy yellow onto his mop of hair. Conrad threw an egg at my mom that connected with her shoulder as she attempted to put the island between the two of them. I think Jeremiah found the sink first, coating all of us with streams of cold water, which only made the flour that my mom dumped on all three of us stick like glue. In just a few minutes we had created a disaster in the kitchen, but it was once again full of laughter and warmth.

That was how we spent our last week at the summer home and the following two months after that. Conrad and I both drank less, but we still spent most nights smoking on the porch together. Eventually, the quiet days spent in her bed outweighed the days of laughter. She was so small and weak that we were scared to touch her, but she never lost her joy. One night, she got a burst of energy so we made popcorn and brought the mattresses into the living room to make a giant bed where we cuddled together watching her favorite movie. She slept on the couch while the three of us shared the giant bed. My mom fell asleep first and the three of us stayed up a little longer, just watching her sleep, no evidence of pain on her face for the first time in weeks.

I woke up first the next morning and I just knew.

"Mommy?" I whispered, my voice cracking and the tears already dripping onto her face as I tried to gently shake her. "Mommy please. I'm not ready yet." I begged, my movements becoming more forceful. "I'm really sorry. I'll be better I promise, just please please wake up" My voice rose to a scream at the end. The sobs shook my entire body as I desperately called out to my favorite person in the entire world even though I knew she was already gone.

I wasn't sure which of my brothers was holding me, but he led us both out of the living room and onto the porch. He held me against his chest and gently ran his fingers through my hair. I could feel him sobbing with me. Eventually I heard the door close and we both looked up to see Conrad with puffy eyes and tears on his face.

"I called the funeral home, dad, and Laurel." He said, his voice sounding as if the phone calls had take all the energy he had. "We're going to be okay." He said as he sat down on the other side of me and wrapped an arm around both of us. Despite knowing this was coming for months, it didn't feel like she was really gone. The only thing that made it feel real was the tangible darkness without the joy of Suzanna Fisher, the light of our world.

[mr-buffosaur]

When i was young

When i was a young strapping lad i went out into town the virgin megastore in darling harbour, i wasn't sure why at the time, but i knew in time. I would know.

I took the monorail from some point in the city to darling harbour. And i remember there was a man on there with a balding head saying, they dont milk them like they use to. I laughed.

Once in the virgin megastore, i said loudly because i was a brash young lad,where is the virgins. Then a man came up to me and said i was the virgin so i left. I walked for a fair bit of time, and i ended up at some pub, a guy in there said something and i spun around and left.

I think i headed home after that not sure really,

That was the day my mum told my friend sooty that i was an enigma and good old sooty heard it differently and he never spoke to my mum again. A few years later he told me about what my mum had said. I said what she really said and that he miss heard her. He cryed.

That day coincidentally, i got so drunk i had an accident and my dad came to pick me up, but he left me there because he didn't want a drunk son, so sooty wanted to return me to my mum, and apologise to her, as he wrote a letter as an anonymous tip, im not sure why though. We walked from our mate al's house to mine, in about a days time,but your see us kids back then where more fun and free spirited, we just did those things. Not like today's kids, who sit at home and play with their mashedpotao and wine. We smoked cigarettes. And drank coffee. These kids with their prime will never no the bliss. My pal al had rose tattoo's first album, so we would go to his house alot.

He would always tell us how he stole it from a shop because they had some records out the front, we all thought about dobing him in, but never did. Would of been funny. Once that record was on his turn table we would sit and listen, it was that good. His speakers were loud the fun was had. Once sooty brought over a Metallica record and did it suck, later on everyone and their dads became Metallica fans. I still never understood why. They were always kinda strange people. But i did like the sandman song. I use to play it in my car, and that car was Australian made. They don't make them here anymore. Nothing is.

Once all my friends went to manly to swim. But al, sooty and i got very high and climbed a hill and found a stone kangaroo statue, it was up there just looking out over the beach, we where in awe. We made up storys of how it got their, like some monster turned it to stone. In reality some guy build it a very long time ago and its just been there ever since, if you are ever in manly you should pay a visit to the kangaroo.

In high school, we had a party on the school oval. Our old mate duncan drove, since he wanted to show of his car, but we didn't have batteries for our cassette player radio thing, since we spent all our money on beer and stuff. So we used his car to listen to music,but it must of killed the battery or something. So when school came on Monday the car was still there, and our principal was so pissed he peed on the car. Danny was in big trouble. Never saw him again. Im not sure why, but it could of been the time al and i called the cops and said he had drugs or a gun or something, maybe it something more funny but i had forgotten. Actually it was the night we had the party. Maybe he couldn't move the car because he got arrested. But there are more important things to think about. Like that time sooty, al and i went to blacktown because there were some cool shops there, and we went into newsagent because al wanted a magazine or something but i realised i didn't want to spend money so i grabbed a magazine, i think it was a motorbike one or something and left and the guy saw me and came out, so i told him i was blind and got lost, he let me off easy but i had to pay, but the thing is, if i was blind why was i buying a magazine.

Anyway enough reminiscing time for me. I need to milk the lawn and mow the cow

Bye 👋

[jungkussyficrecs]

Convenience 1 - JJK

Summary: Jungkook has a crush on the girl who works at the convenience store.

Wordcount: 5.4K

Warnings: None so far. Maybe a lil awkwardness?

Chapter 2

a/n: this is my new series Convenience. I hope you enjoy. The plan right now is to make this a long series, so I hope you're in for the long haul.

Masterlist

The local convenience store wasn’t necessarily a dream job, but it does pay the bills, well, most of them. 

After a few years of working there, the patterns of people start to become more obvious. Old couples always come in early to buy coffee and ask when you are going off to college even though you’re well past being fresh out of high school. 

Then, there are the post-work rushes when a bunch of middle-aged adults come in to buy a quick meal. 

Lastly, and possibly the worst group, are the late nighters. The most notable majority during that time are the handsy teenagers who are full of giggles as they come in to buy a box of condoms or cigarettes. They’re discovering new things, and they think they’re the coolest people in the world while doing it. 

Occasionally there are interesting people who pop up and brighten (or worsen) the work day. You’ve started mentally taking down their information from what you can observe when these new people walk in the door. Last week for example: female, bright pink hair, age unknown since her face was obscured by her mask and hat, cool shoes, bought cookies, and didn’t say anything.

There are also a few regulars who you’ve come to know. Like the hot dad and his daughter who come in before school to buy coffee for him and milk for her. Aera, the sweet six year old with pigtails, always sits perched on her dad’s hip while he pays and makes small talk. 

It was the third time they came in that Aera had finally removed her face from her dad’s neck and asked your name.

Since that initial inquiry, you and Aera have become pretty good friends if you do say so yourself. Every morning when she comes in, you ask if there’s anything exciting happening at school. When the day before you heard about something exciting, you always make sure to ask how it went. 

Aera is one of the few customers who make your day brighter. There are other regulars who come in, but none of them excite you as much as the light up sneakered girl who talks about her teachers at school like they hung the stars in the sky. 

Well, there is one exception to that statement. The boy who comes in almost everyday, and then would sometimes disappear for weeks or months at a time, and then he’d return to his everyday schedule like nothing ever happened. He always walked through the doors in baggy and mostly black clothes with his face completely covered by various hats and masks. The times he comes in are different than any of the other groups, always later mornings, right after Aera and her dad. You always assumed he was on his way to work, but without being able to see his face, it's possible he could be a college student.

He is another regular who never says anything, but the way he carries himself is what intrigues you the most. He walks in, and there’s this power to the way that he walks. If he wore suits, you would probably assume he is a CEO.

The more he comes in, the more you study him. You’ve observed him so much that you’ve noticed how he uses his left hand when he pays. He keeps his right hand tucked deep in his pocket while he uses his card to pay for his items. 

His black card.

He’s an interesting guy to say the least.

.   .   .

Another morning standing behind the counter is when he talks to you for the first time. 

Ringing above the door signals his arrival, and he walks toward the back of the store to the drink coolers. 

This morning is different from every other morning. Normally, he seems to know exactly what he wants, like he’s been thinking about it before he even came in, and he’s in and out of the store in under five minutes. This time, he walks through every aisle looking at each shelf seemingly trying to find something. Typically his purchases include only food and drinks, but  this time he takes his time browsing, and it seems like he can’t find whatever he’s looking for. 

He pauses at the end of an aisle and seems to compose himself for a moment. You watch as his shoulders have a deliberate rise and fall–he takes a deep breath before turning on his heel and walking directly toward you. Even while he is turned to face you and walking straight toward you, his face is still hidden. The mysterious man places his items, two bottles of water and a bottle of iced coffee, on the counter; then keeps his head turned down and quietly asks,

‘Do you sell any bowls?’

You’re stunned for a moment. 

First of all: his voice. A low timbre with a hint of satoori that you’re unable to pinpoint due to his mumbling. It sends goosebumps all over your arms. That is a damn sexy voice. Second: his questions surprises you. Bowls? Why does he want bowls? After a moment of thinking you let him know,

‘We sell paper bowls. They’re over by the paper plates and ramyeon.’ You respond nicely. Does your voice sound as nice to him as his does to you? That’s definitely not possible.

‘Thanks,’ He says quietly and then turns away from the counter toward the aisle you specified. He walks quickly over before picking up a pack to inspect them, and then he brings them to the counter with the rest of his items.

The conversation was too short for your liking; this man had been sparking your interest for months, and clearly he isn’t much of a talker, so the best way to fix that is to try talking to him,

‘You know, normally people buy food to put in those bowls, not just the bowls’ You say as you’re grabbing his items to scan and bag.

Why did you say that? That’s the dumbest thing you ever could have said to Sexy Voice. You’re fully prepared for him to ignore you and hoping he will. Who asks such stupid questions. But he surprises you when he lets out a low chuckle (even his laugh is sexy) before continuing,

‘My dog is out in the car and thirsty.’ He informs; there’s a hint of amusement in his voice, so maybe he doesn't think you’re a complete idiot.

‘That will be 7,000 won. What kind of dog do you have?’ Asking seems like the appropriate and least embarrassing course of action in order to get his mind off of your previous question.

He pauses for a moment as if contemplating whether or not he should tell you. He puts his card into the reader before answering,

‘Bam is a doberman. He’s very handsome.’ You can hear the smile in his voice while he’s talking about his dog.

Sexy Voice loves dogs. Noted.

‘Oh! I love big dogs. They’re so much fun!’ You exclaim, reminded of your old family dog.

‘Yeah they are. I love taking him on walks, but he’s really thirsty today so I stopped for water.’ He pauses and his head seems to start to rise for a moment before he digs his hand into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. He takes a wad of cash and drops it in the tip jar, and while he’s doing that, you see a flash of ink on his hand but it disappears quickly, 

‘Have a nice day’ he mumbles before collecting his drinks and bowls and speed walking out the door.

As the doors are closing behind him, you yell out,

‘Have a nice day!’

And then he’s gone.

.   .   .

Meanwhile, Jungkook is sitting in his car unwrapping the bowls and pouring some water in one to give Bam a drink of water. 

He can’t stop thinking about you. Everyday he comes into the convenience store, and you’re always there. He’s never shown his face, afraid you’re going to recognize him.

But today he talked to you, and you treated him like a normal person. Your voice has his heart beating out of his chest; he’s never felt so normal before. Normally other girls try to pretend they don’t know who he is, but it’s pretty easy to tell they’re faking. But you, you don’t know what he looks like, and you didn’t react to his voice. 

All those months of looking at you from outside the convenience store and then covering up once he goes inside are finally starting to seem a little less crazy.

Surely, if you knew who he was, you would have recognized his voice when he talked to you. Jungkook can’t contain his excitement, 

‘Bam! Bam-ie, Appa talked to the pretty girl today. Isn’t that exciting?I know, I know here’s your water.’ He says–Bam doesn’t seem particularly interested in Jungkook’s crush on the convenience store cashier. Maybe it's because he’s a dog, but maybe it’s because he knows his Appa will never make a move.

.   .   .

Walking into the new Hybe building after taking Bam home, Jungkook has a renewed sense of energy to his step. He feels on top of the world after just having a small conversation with the girl who has been piqueing his interest for a while now. Immediately after exiting the elevator, he’s being rushed into a makeup chair to start getting ready,

‘You’re late.’ Miyoung, one of the hair stylists, chastises.

‘Sorry, noona,’ Jungkook replies cheekily, ‘Bamie took a long walk today.’

‘You could at least have the decency to look apologetic.’ She tsks while beginning to flat iron parts of his hair. He notices a quick glance of her eyes to the drink in his hand–it has the name of the convenience store on it, ‘You seem to have had time to go to your favorite place today.’

‘Ah Bam was thirsty after our walk, so I stopped for some water.’ Jungkook desperately tries to evade what he knows is coming.

‘Oh well Bam must be thirsty a lot if you go there so often. Maybe you should start keeping water with you?’ Miyoung prods.

To many of the staff who Jungkook interacts with often, Jungkook’s convenience store obsession is no secret. He always avidly attempts to play it off, but everyone tries to speculate about his frequent trips.

‘Maybe I should, but I’m awfully forgetful.’ Jungkook tries to move on to the next topic, ‘Oh, I don’t like the smell of this perfu-’

‘Jungkookah just ask her out already, we’re sick of you wasting time and money at the convenience store while pining over some girl.’ Namjoon pipes up from the makeup chair next to him.

‘She isn’t just some-,’ He realizes his mistake and clears his throat, ‘I’m not ‘pining’ after a girl hyung.’ 

‘So you admit there’s a girl?’ That annoying, knowing smile is sitting on Namjoon's face as he teases the maknae.

…

Jungkook had been reluctant to share his thoughts on convenience store girl with his hyungs, but one drunken night had led to loose lips on his part. 

He spilled to his hyungs how he goes everyday to see the pretty girl who works there. His hyungs had watched as a pink tint took over his cheeks while he rambled about how kind and pretty you were. Jungkook had never been in a serious relationship, and he’d never really pursued anyone past his highschool crushes, so the other members were seeing a new side of their maknae

…

‘Ooh Jungkookie’s getting angry. Namjoonie be careful. You can’t insult his girl.’ Hoseok teases from the chair on the other side of Namjoon.

‘Hyungs, she’s not my girl. And there’s no girl, I just need things from the convenience store sometimes.’ Jungkook says tiredly.

‘Sometimes, Kookah? You go every day.’ Hobi continues to tease because he finds his dongsaeng’s grievances amusing.

If it were anyone else Jungkook would be way more annoyed, but the bright smile on Hobi’s face makes the teasing a little easier,

‘I just,’ he pauses trying to find something to defend himself, ‘I need stuff’ he mumbles, a slight pout forming on his lips.

Hobi breaks out into that full-body, contagious laughter, knowing Jungkoook can’t defend himself in this situation, Hoseok decides to keep poking fun at him,

‘Did you talk to her yet, Jungkookie? Or are you still at the stalking phase in your relationship?’ Hoseok asks, finding it hard to contain his laughter at Jungkook’s expense.

Rolling his eyes as he walks away Jungkook mutters,

‘Very funny Hobi hyung.’ 

His cheeks are turning red, and any words he could say to try and deny his hyungs would be fruitless as his embarrassment materializes on his face. Since his makeup is done, he walks to the couch against the back wall where Jimin is laying down and napping. Since he’s sleeping he won’t be able to tease Jungkook anymore than the others already have. Just as his butt meets the cushion, Jimin cracks an eye open. A cheeky smirk takes over his previously parted lips, 

‘How’s convenience store girl, Jungkookie?’

Jungkook throws his head back against the couch and groans loud enough to have the whole dressing room snickering at his expense. He decides to tease Jimin right back, mostly because he’s the only hyung who will let him get away with it. He leans over, and drops his weight onto Jimin. After the older of the two lets out a grunt and some kind of insult about Jungkook’s weight, Jungkook whispers against Jimin’s ear,

‘Hyung, I don’t think you have any room to talk when all you do is drool over Taehyungie-hyung.’ Jungkook says quietly.

‘Yah! Get off me you brat.’ He shoves Jungkook away and shoots him a glare, ‘That’s no way to talk to your hyung.’ He pouts

‘That’s no way to talk to your dongsaeng,’ Jungkook quips back.

Jimin shoots him a tired look for a moment, 

‘You’re lucky you’re cute or else I’d have kicked you out of the group a long time ago.’ Jimin mutters.

‘You’d miss me too much, hyungie.’ Jungkook retorts cutely.

Jimin sighs and stands up. Just as he’s walking through the doorway he turns back, 

‘Hey Jungkook-ah’ he calls.

Jungkooks responds with a raised eyebrow and a questioning glance in his direction.

Jimin continues, 

‘I’m thinking of going to the convenience store later. Wanna come? Or is three times in one day too much for your heart to handle?’ He asks cheekily.

Jungkook turns bright red and calls back, ‘It would only be the second time today hyung!’

But his attempt is pointless. Jimin has already walked down the hallway, and the only response is the sound of Jimin’s twinkling laughter bouncing off of the hallway walls.

Jungkook sits on the couch with his head tipped back and eyes closed as he thinks through all of the routes to take when it comes to his options with you.

He can keep going to the convenience store and barely talking to you, and his hyungs would keep teasing him.

He can stop going to the convenience store altogether, and try to forget about you

Or he can finally ask you out.

Jungkook mulls over his options for a few moments before he ultimately decides what he wants to do. Option two was definitely out of the question. 

Jungkook had previously thought about giving up on his routine of daily convenience store trips, but their recent concerts in the states showed him that he really enjoyed seeing you every day, even if it is for only a moment.

He sighs and lets sleep take over. He’s going to rest for now. He’ll make a decision later.

…

You’re about to close out your shift late at night. Today you’re working a double since your landlord had increased rent recently, and money was getting a little tight. The owners of the convenience store had always been relatively fair with pay, but the unexpected increase has definitely taken you, and your bank account, by surprise. There are most likely going to be a lot of double shifts in your future. Luckily, it worked out kind of awkwardly where you work in the morning, have a break for a few hours mid-day, and then you work again later at night. The only thing you requested was not working the overnight shifts, and luckily the owners have been very willing since you work for them so much. You’ve been applying to other places, but without a degree, the job search has been a little disappointing.

Today has been a drag ever since Sexy Voice came in. No customer could’ve topped the excitement of him finally talking to you after months of just admiring him. You couldn’t help but to daydream and think about what he looks like. Surely, he has to be attractive to go with his voice; there’s no possible way for his voice and face to not match up. You also can’t help but to think about what he’s really like when he lets his guard down. You can already tell that he’s shy and a little reserved, but maybe he loosens up when you get to know him. 

The bell above the door jingles, abruptly ending your daydreaming about the mysterious man who has been capturing your attention. Almost as if by fate, you glance up to see Sexy Voice walking to the back of the store, toward the drink coolers where he always goes first. He’s wearing different clothes, but they’re just as baggy, and his signature bucket hat and mask are covering his face. You can instantly recognize him by the downward tilt of his head, and the way he walks through the store–like he owns it. 

He pauses in front of the drink coolers, and he raises his head to look through the soda options. That’s when you realize–he isn’t wearing a mask. You can’t really see his face since his back is turned toward you, and he’s still wearing a large bucket hat, but the sides of his jaw are a little visible from this angle. He keeps staring at the fridges, but then, he unexpectedly starts to turn around. You quickly avert your eyes; as much as you want to see what he looks like, you can’t be caught ogling at him. So, you turn to the side and start to occupy yourself with something, but you keep your attention on him from your peripherals. Instead of browsing the aisles like you thought he would, he continues to walk straight to the counter. He stops right in front of the register and clears his throat quietly to grab your attention, and you turn to him while trying to mentally prepare yourself to see him for the first time. 

Jawline. That’s the first, and kind of the only, thing you can see about him. His head is still turned downward, and the bucket hat he’s wearing covers his eyes completely. You can see the pretty curve of his nose and the sharp jawline he’s sporting. He has clear skin with a nice golden tone to it. He’s definitely not super tan, but he certainly isn’t pale. 

You can see his hands fidgeting in front of him. His sleeves are long and covering the majority of his hands, but your earlier observation was right– there is a little tattoo on his middle finger. He’s still kind of far away and you’re tired, so you can’t make out what it is, but Sexy Voice having tattoos, a sharp jawline, and a nice face from what you can see? You’ve decided that his face definitely matches the attractiveness of his voice, and you haven’t even seen all of him yet.

‘Hi,’ he says quietly.

You’re surprised to say the least. Until this morning he had barely spoken to you, and now he’s initiating conversation without asking you a store related question.

‘Hi,’ you say back, ‘How’s your day been?’ You smile to let him know he isn’t bothering you in the slightest. 

‘It’s been okay,’ he pauses and takes a deep breath, ‘So- uh, I know we don’t know each other that well, and you don’t even really know me, but uh I was just wondering if I could- uh h-have your number?’ He stutters out his question, gradually getting quieter as he reaches the end. You just blink at him for a moment.

‘Are you serious?’ you ask him. Sexy Voice, who you’ve been admiring for a while, wants your number? He must be joking or pulling a prank.

‘Uh yeah?’ He replies and you can hear the hesitation in his next statement, ‘I mean you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just,’ he pauses for a moment, ‘yeah.’ 

You let out a little laugh at his stumbling before replying, ‘Ok’

He freezes, and you laugh again at his nervousness, ‘Really?’ he asks, hands pausing in their wringing. 

‘You sound surprised,’ you muse. He’s cute. His nervousness is showing, and you’re hoping that it means he’s genuine.

‘Well you just don’t really know me so I didn’t know if you’d want to give me your number because it can be scary you know?’ He’s rambling again at your response. It’s rare that girls remain so calm and collected around him. Normally they’re either screaming, crying, or ignoring him so your response is a change of pace from his normal interactions with girls.

‘Well, I would like to know your name before I give you my number,’ you pause, contemplating continuing your teasing, ‘and maybe I could get a look at your eyes before then too?’ You finish with a light laugh.

Embarrassment colors Jungkook’s cheeks when he remembers that he’s asking for your number without ever telling you his name.

‘Oh, yeah. Uh, I’m Jungkook.’ He finishes telling you his name and then he slowly moves his gaze from the floor to you. 

You’re shocked by his gorgeous eyes. They’re so big and bright, and they pull together his handsome face really well.

‘It’s nice to see you again, Jungkook,’ you say as you reach for a scrap of paper and write down your phone number on it, ‘I’m __’

He finally knows your name, and it suits you perfectly. He rips the paper with your number on it in half right after you hand it to him, and you panic for a moment thinking he was actually joking with you. But then he surprises you when he reaches across the counter and grabs the pen you had used. He hunches over slightly and starts scribbling something on the paper. Jungkook takes a little longer than you think writing a phone number normally takes, and then he reaches for your hand and puts the piece of paper in it. He holds on to your hand for a moment as the two of you make eye contact before he drops your hand suddenly and averts his gaze back toward his shoes. 

‘I’ll talk to you later?’ He asks and you can hear the hopeful tone in his voice.

‘Yeah’ you hum, ‘I’ll talk to you later, Jungkook.’ You smile.

Jungkook hopes you can’t see the redness of his ears at the way you say his name,

‘Yeah, I’ll see you later __’ he mumbles before he gives a quick jerk of his head that you think is supposed to be some form of nod. Then he turns and walks out of the convenience store. The confident walk he usually does has turned into a kind of shy shuffle. He turns back once more when he’s standing in the opened door, and you get to see his bright eyes and big smile with his scrunched up nose before he’s gone, and the door is closing loudly behind him. The lingering jingle of the bells over the door are the only remnants of his presence.

You glance down at the paper that he gave you before he left. You uncrumple it to see his number written at the very top, but below that is a beautiful sketch of a butterfly. How he drew a detailed little butterfly in such a short time, you’re unsure. But you know that you want to hold on to it. Quickly you take the scrap of paper and place it in the back of your phone case to make sure that it doesn’t get lost before you can text him.

…

After finally finishing your shift after the eventful day, you’re walking through the door of your apartment and thinking about Jungkook. How can someone so sweet and handsome even exist let alone want your number?

You’re setting your bag down by the door and walking toward your bedroom when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. 

You glance down to see that it’s from an unknown number, and the angle that you’ve lifted your phone at hasn’t unlocked it with Face ID, so the message is still hidden. You throw your phone down on the bed and start to get ready to go to sleep–the message can wait.

Once you’ve showered and gotten dressed in pajamas, you crawl under the covers. Picking up your phone to check on your notifications from when you were working, the message from the unknown number catches your attention.

From: Unknown

Hi __  It’s Jungkook. I hope you made it home safe :)

You’re surprised for a moment; you didn’t expect him to text you so quickly considering how shy he’d been when he was asking for your number. You quickly add him as a contact before messaging him back.

To: Jungkook🦋

Hi Jungkook! I just made it home a little bit ago. Hope you made it home safe too :)

From: Jungkook🦋

That’s good

How was your day?

He’s awkward just like you expected, but it’s cute. He’s definitely introverted, but you’re hoping that once he gets to know you more, he’ll be more calm. You already got to see a little bit of his confidence and calmness when he was writing his number and the butterfly for you.

To: Jungkook🦋

It was good. 

Long. 

How was yours? 

I think it’s only fair that I know what you do for work when you get to see mine everyday.

From: Jungkook🦋

I work in the entertainment industry.

Just boring stuff mostly

To: Jungkook🦋

Oh so you get to work with idols and actors?

From: Jungkook🦋

Something like that haha

Do you only work at the convenience store?

OH

Not that there’s anything wrong with that

Because there isn’t

Just curious

To: Jungkook🦋

Don’t worry about it :)

And no

I’m just working in the convenience store while I try to figure out what I want to do with my life

Haha

From: Jungkook🦋

There’s nothing wrong with the convenience store, __

I didn’t mean to make you feel bad about it

To: Jungkook🦋

You didn’t

Don’t worry 

If I didn’t work at the convenience store I wouldn’t have met you :)

From: Jungkook🦋

Oh

Yeah

I’m glad you work there too

Oh

That came out wrong

To: Jungkook🦋

I think I know what you meant

You and Jungkook continue texting back and forth, and while you’re doing that, you decide to look him up on instagram. You’d been wanting to look him up while he was coming into the convenience store, but you didn’t know his name until today.

Typing in ‘Jungkook’ in the search bar, the first person that pops up is a verified account, and you immediately scroll past it. But as you keep searching through the pages on instagram, you can’t find any that seem to be the Jungkook who comes to the convenience store everyday.

Out of curiosity, you scroll back to the top of the names and click on the verified Jungkook account. 

Jungkook of BTS is what the bio says, and as you scroll through the pictures of him you start to realize this is your convenience store boy, but it’s a different side of him. You can understand why he would want to keep this a secret. His almost 40 million instagram followers probably bring him a lot of unwanted attention when he’s trying to do daily things like go to a convenience store. You switch back to your messages where Jungkook is telling you about some of his favorite games.

To: Jungkook🦋

Jungkook…

From: Jungkook🦋

Oh is it too much video game talk?

I’m sorry

I just really like them

To: Jungkook🦋

It’s not about the video games

Why didn’t you tell me you’re an idol?

Across Seoul in his dorm bedroom Jungkook is freaking out. He isn’t sure how long he thought he could hide it from you but he was going to try to talk to you normally. He’s panicking and he doesn’t know how to fix it. So, in an impulse decision, he calls you.

‘Uh, hello?’

‘__, listen. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you who I am really, but–’ He starts to explain but you cut him off,

‘Jungkook, I don’t care that you’re an idol. I just, I guess I’m just curious why you didn’t tell me?’ You ask, trying to talk quietly so he doesn’t think you’re upset with him.

‘I guess I just wanted you to get to know Jeon Jungkook, not the idol Jungkook of BTS.’ He mutters quietly. Jungkook can’t help but think he’s ruined his chance with you by trying to lie about what he does.

‘Jungkook, I want to get to know who you are. That includes idol Jungkook. What you do isn’t gonna change my opinion of you, it just means that I can watch videos of you on youtube now.’ You laugh, attempting to ease the tension.

‘No! You can’t watch those, they’re so embarrassing.’ He whines.

‘I can and you can stop me, Kookah.’ You were having too much fun teasing him that you didn’t realize you let the nickname slip. The two of you had been texting for hours up until the phone call, and you felt like you had known him for years, ‘Sorry–I didn’t mean to-’

‘No, it’s fine. That’s what all the people close to me call me, and you can too.’ Just like every time Jungkook says something remotely flirty, or something that insinuates anything more than friendship, he starts the sentence confidently and then slowly trails off as he finishes, like he’s overthinking the whole time he’s talking.

‘Oh, so I’m close to you now?’ You tease.

Jungkook almost drops his phone as he feels his heart taking a flying leap to his stomach. He’s new to actually trying to pursue someone on a more than sexual basis. He’d had a girlfriend in high school right after they debuted, but that wasn’t anything remotely serious. It was shy glances across the cafeteria and maybe holding hands in the hallway. 

He’d been introduced to a few of his hyungs friends, but things had been only a friends with benefits situation since he wasn’t looking to be in a relationship in the early stages of their career.  

But as he approaches the nine year anniversary of being in BTS, Jungkook can’t help but start to think about the other things that come with getting older, like marriage and starting a family. All of those things never sounded like a possibility to Jungkook. Sure, he’s still fairly young, but he can’t help but to wonder. He’s not sure that you’re the person he’ll settle down with in the future, but he can’t help but to try.

‘Yeah, I think I’d like that.’ Junkook responds, smiling from ear to ear.

‘Me too, Kookah’ You respond and then let out a yawn.

‘Oh, you’re tired. I should let you get to sleep.’ Jungkook says disappointedly.

‘I am really tired, but I wish I could keep talking to you.’ You tell him, but not before yawning again.

‘I wish I could talk to you all night too, __’ Jungkook responds quietly, ‘But I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘Yeah,’ you pause to yawn again, ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘Goodnight __’ Jungkook says, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

‘Goodnight.’ You say before hanging up the phone. As you plug in your phone and close your eyes to go to sleep, your head is full of thoughts of the bright-eyed boy you’ve been admiring for months.

[missymurphy1985]

The Strip Club - Cillian Murphy X Female OC

A/N - Set in 2010, and I've used fictional names for his wife/children

A night out with his brother and closest friends doesn't end the way Cillian expects it to.

Warning - Smut

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @cilleveryone

"I'm really not up for this Pad, can't we just go for a beer at the Anchor instead?" Cillian complained to his younger brother.

"You haven't been out with us in months, Dermot has had this all planned out for ages Cill, come on!" He rolled his eyes, knowing he couldn't get out of it, no matter what he said. Pulling his boots on, the two of them left the house, getting into the waiting taxi outside.

Walking into the strip club via the VIP entrance at the back, Cillian kept his head low and his brother and friends close around him so as not to be seen. Last thing he needed was photos in the press of him coming here!

"We're here for The Secret Show? Booked under Padraig Murphy?" Paddy told the bouncer, who checked everyone's ID and led them through a curtained off section at the back of the club. No cameras, no members of the public, completely private.

The boys sat around the stage area, a waitress coming over to take their drinks order. Once she returned with them, the lights dimmed and the music from the movie Burlesque began to play through the speakers. A single spotlight on a stool on the stage.

Cillian could feel his cheeks burning, he genuinely had never felt so uncomfortable in his life. He'd never been to a place like this, had always avoided them like the plague. The idea of a stripper had never appealed to him. Someone he'd never met, stripping to her underwear to please him and his drunk friends and even more cringe-worthy, his little brother, was not something he was remotely interested in.

The dancer came out, swaying her hips as she walked to the stool. Perching herself on it, legs crossed. Dressed in a black corset, short black skirt, fishnet stockings, black stiletto heels, and a black masquerade mask covering the top half of her face. Her long, silky brown hair flowing loosely down her back.

She was beautiful, there was no mistaking it. Cillian spotted Paddy nudging Dermot and whispering something in his ear and rolled his eyes. Probably something incredibly inappropriate about the young girl in front of them. He couldn't help feel sorry for her - lecherous old men creeping all over her as she danced for them, throwing money at her like she was a cheap prostitute...

The routine began. Cillian remained stoic, arms folded across his chest while the other lads cheered, louder each time an item of clothing was sexily removed from her lithe body. Her heels had been kicked off, her stockings slowly moving down her thighs, he couldn't watch any more. Standing, he made his way over to the bar to order another Guinness.

"I'd have thought you'd be over there enjoying the show with your friends?" A familiar voice from behind the bar startled him.

"Kate?"

"Long time no see," she smiled.

"Wow! Last person I expected to bump into tonight, how are you?"

"I'm okay, I see you're doing pretty well too." He nodded, his latest film, Inception, had been a box office smash. Professionally, at least, he could say he was doing well.

"Yeah, I guess so." His head lowered slightly, as Kate placed his pint in front of him.

"You guess? You okay?"

"What? Oh yeah, yeah I'm fine. Although, no disrespect? Kinda wish I was anywhere but here right now!" He chuckled. Kate smirked.

"I get off in 20minutes, fancy a walk?"

"You know what, I'll take you up on that Kate. I'll meet you outside?"

"Deal."

Thirty minutes later, after Cillian had made his excuses to his brother, he was smoking a cigarette walking along the canal with Kate at his side.

"Did you travel the world like you planned after school?" He asked, stubbing the cigarette out on the floor.

"I did, a full year of travelling before I went to university."

"Where did you go?" She told him about Australia, backpacking across Vietnam and Thailand, before heading to California for three months on a work visa.

"It was amazing. Truly wonderful. I met some great people over there. But all good things must come to an end, right?" She looked at him, and quickly looked away.

"I couldn't stand in the way of you living your dream Kate, you know that. We ended on grand terms though, right?" She linked her arm through his and squeezed it.

"We did. Promised we'd stay in touch though didn't we..."

"Yeah, I admit that was my fault. Tanya wasn't overly keen on you was she?" His ex wife. Or soon to be ex, anyway.

"I'm sorry about what happened Cill. Are you okay?"

"I'm getting there, you know? If she'd rather fuck her friend's husband instead of her own, then so be it," he smiled as much as he could.

"Well if it's any consolation, she's clearly lost her mind." She squeezed his arm again, and he found himself moving it so it was wrapped over her shoulders. He could feel her shivering and pulled her a little tighter against him.

They approached a small apartment block around 100yards further down the canal, and Kate dug her keys out of her handbag.

"Thanks for walking me home. It was good to see you again," she smiled, unhooking herself from him.

"Maybe I could - " he was interrupted by the door opening, and a younger girl stood in the doorway with a toddler in her arms.

"I'm so sorry Kate, I gave her Calpol an hour ago but I couldn't get her to settle..."

"Hey it's okay, I'll take her now. Get yourself home sis, I'll see you tomorrow yeah?" The young girl nodded, before nodding at Cillian and heading off down the street.

"Liane grew up!" Cillian laughed. The last time he'd seen her she'd still been in primary school. "And who's this little one?" He reached for the toddlers hand, grinning when she took his little finger and squeezed it.

"This is my daughter, Lily."

"Well Lily, you've certainly got your mama's eyes, haven't you?" Cillian glanced quickly at Kate's left hand.

"Her Dad isn't around Cill, I'm not married." He bent his head down. Busted.

"Then am I allowed in for a coffee at least?"

"If you don't mind sharing me with a teething baby, then yes, you can come in!" Kate led him through and fetched the teething granules from the cupboard and a teething ring from the freezer. Cillian offered to take Lily while she prepped a cup of warm milk for her.

Seeing him bounce her on his arm made her smile.

"Reminds me of Jack and Niamh when they were teething. Had to be moving around, constantly needed distraction. You okay if I take her a walk around after? See if I still have the magic touch?"

Kate nodded, and took her back to give her the nurofen, teething granules, followed by her sippy cup of warm milk. Once she'd finished, Cillian offered his arms out for her. She reached up for him, surprising Kate as she normally shied away from strangers, and off they went around the apartment. She watched from a distance as he took her around, showing her the ornaments on the window ledge, her reflection in the mirror, bouncing her up and down as she giggled lightly.

After around fifteen minutes, he made his way over to the radio in the kitchen, fiddling with the buttons before he found the station he was looking for. Soft, gentle classical music played through the speakers. He turned the volume down so it was barely audible, and leaned Lily into his shoulder, rocking her side to side gently. She nuzzled into his neck, Kate watching, smiling, as her baby's eyes grew heavier. She could feel past feelings coming back as she watched them. As much as she'd pretended losing him when he left University to pursue his acting career was fine and she had gotten over it, she never had. And now, bumping into him again all these years later, those feelings were coming back with some force.

Lily was snoring gently in his arms now, and Kate gently took her from him. Taking her into a small room at the back of the apartment. Coming out ten minutes later and closing the door as quietly as possible.

"I'd say you still have it Cill," she laughed, switching the baby monitor on in the corner of the living room where he sat on the sofa, two glasses of red wine in front of him. "You read my mind."

She sat next to him, clinking her glass with his.

"Did you meet her Dad while you were travelling?" He asked, after taking a sip.

"Yeah.. he erm.. he died not long ago. Cancer."

"Shit I'm sorry... Oh Kate that's awful..."

"No it's okay.. it was just a brief fling you know, we weren't together or anything. But it's sad for her. She'll never have that father figure. Just me and her against the world now." She felt his fingers brush her hair out of her face and gently down her cheek. Turning to him, she put her glass down on the table and turned to face him. He placed his down too, and moved closer.

Their faces centimetres apart, she could feel his warm breath against her own.

"I should probably go..."

"Again?" She whispered. She didn't want him to leave her again, as much as he had no intention of actually leaving. Their lips met, a kiss that was fifteen years overdue.

"I haven't spent a day not thinking about you, Kate..." He smiled, pulling away.

"You mean that, or are you just looking to get your end away?"

"Which is why I'm going to kiss you now, and go home. But I want to see you again. If I can?"

"And what if I don't want you to go home..." She kissed him again, this time straddling her legs over his thighs on the sofa. Even if this was a one night stand for him, she needed him, and he wasn't getting away this time.

"Then I'm not going home." His hips rose to meet hers, gyrating over his erection under his jeans, both of them removing each others clothes in record time until they were left in just their underwear.

"My god, you're incredible... Let me taste you..." He flipped her onto her back on the sofa, spreading her legs and placing gentle kisses along the inside of her thighs. His fingers teasing against her underwear, softly caressing her mound, before sliding a finger inside and groaning at how wet she was already.

"Cillian please...." She almost whimpered underneath him, her hips squirming against his lips and fingers. He pulled her underwear down her legs, and unceremoniously threw them across the room before moving his lips to her open slit, drawing his tongue slowly up and down her folds. Her hand flew to her mouth, stifling the cry of ecstacy within it so as not to wake Lily.

"You need to be quiet, you're not going to want me to stop once I've started Kate..." He smirked, before attacking her clit with his mouth, drawing it between his lips, rolling his tongue over it, increasing the pressure. His fingers pressing into her thighs, surely leaving bruises, as his mouth worked magic on her, her hips rocking against him.

"Oh god... That's so good, please don't stop..." Her words coming out in breathy little moans as her orgasm built quickly. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him where she needed him. Two fingers suddenly entered her, making her gasp as they found the small bundle of nerves deep inside her, pushing and rubbing against it hard, matching his motions against her clit. Suddenly his mouth was off her, his fingers pumping into her, the palm of his hand pressed against her clit now as he moved his body up, his lips now pressed to hers. The taste of herself on him turned her on further, and she could feel herself letting go.

"Cum for me..." He whispered in her ear, sending her over the edge with a small cry into his shoulder, her body writhing against him. His fingers removed, replaced with his now solid cock as it pushed inside her quickly, picking up the same pace his hands were, hard and fast thrusts as he hooked her leg up under his elbow, forcing himself deeper.

Her nails scraped over his shoulders as she buried her face into his neck, frantic thrusts against each other, fifteen years of buried feelings coming out of them with a force that took her breath away.

"Yes... God yes..." Her moans into his neck drove him wild, her walls contracting around him pushing him closer. He could feel another orgasm building inside her, and angled his thrusts to hit that magical spot inside her perfectly.

"I'm so close Kate... So fucking close, you feel so good around me..."

"Cum inside me Cillian, please..." He grunted against her ear, nibbling on it gently as his hips pounded into her relentlessly now. Reaching his high, he flooded her, spilling inside her with a deep groan into her neck, sending her into her second orgasm, her legs wrapping tightly around his back pulling him even deeper inside her as she felt his cock pulsate, emptying into her.

He rested his forehead against hers, both of them panting, smiles forming as they looked into each others eyes.

"You're on the pill, right?" He chuckled, coming back to his senses.

"No." He lifted his head quickly.

"What?" She started to giggle, grinning at him.

"I'm on the coil, you're fine, don't worry!" He rested his head back into her neck, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Good to hear. I think three kids between us is enough for now, don't you?"

"What do you mean, for now?"

"I made the biggest mistake of my life leaving you Kate, I'm not planning on doing it again," his lips gently kissed the side of her neck, running the tip of his nose along her jawline softly.

He pulled out of her with a groan, taking her hand and leading her into her bedroom - he'd clocked which one it was earlier that evening.

Kate smiled watching him grow hard again, knowing not much sleeping was going to be done once they got in there...

[filmflowersbangtan]

Dead of Night (preview)

pairing: gang member!jungkook x reader

genre: angst, fluff 

warnings: swearing | drug mention | gangs | in the full story, there will be violence, blood, fighting, threatening 

preview word count: 4k

you meet jungkook in a diner in the early morning where it’s just the two of you in the entire place. An interesting relationship ensues, and you find out he’s not who you thought he was. He’s a prominent member of the city’s most powerful gang, surrounded by danger and trouble. But you still want him.

--

author’s note: I sincerely apologize for being gone for so long and for not updating any of my fics. To everyone waiting on IMSWY pt. ii: I am so sorry for taking so long with it. It’s still in my WIPs, and I haven’t given up on it yet, but it is on the back burner right now since I have many other ideas bubbling up that I absolutely have to write or else they will probably internally set me aflame (lol). 

I will be deleting many of my fics soon. I will be keeping “Unbound,” “I Must Still Want You,” “Heartbreaker with a Heart of Gold,” and “Lonely Planets.” Everything else I will be deleting because I have no desire to finish working on them or I simply do not like them anymore and can’t see them going anywhere.

I also will probably not be writing anymore series. Everything will most likely be one shot because every time I start a series, I get too overwhelmed with the idea of updating parts and finishing them that I just end up postponing them for too long and leaving too many people who have been looking forward to them disappointed. I do want to say that I have been going through So Much since I last posted Lonely Planets pt. ii and IMSWY, but I am in a so so so much better place now. That’s why I’m even writing this story now.

This will be a oneshot. It will not be a series. It will be very long. I am almost finished with it, but I am posting this preview just to see if you all would like to continue reading it.

Thank you all. I appreciate all the feedback and the follows and the reblogs so, so much. The feedback and the reblogs of Heartbreaker with a Heart of Gold is what really motivated me to write this one. I hope you all enjoy it. 😊

--

Being alone was like an addiction. It was fulfilling and appealing and…well, lonely. 

Two in the morning diner stops during the weekdays had become routine. The place was completely empty save for a waitress and a cook and maybe a tired trucker. You tucked yourself in a booth in the back. The vinyl seats were cracked and uncomfortable, the lighting was stark and washed everything raw. But it was comforting. Sleep was evasive and your apartment was barely unpacked, boxes stacked haphazardly in the dining area and the mattress on the living room floor. It was your idea to move to this vast city far away from home. This city swallowed everything in its incessant noise. Nocturnal and teeming with cars and neon lights. It never rested and the two of you had that in common. You took solace in that. 

The air was thick with bacon grease and bitter black coffee. Every morning you had waffles and orange juice. The refills were free and the waffles were the exact same circumference as the plate underneath it. Time was stagnant here. The city pressed against the plate glass windows, but the reflections from inside barred its entry. If you looked out, you simply stared directly at yourself. Maybe there was some kind of metaphor in that. 

The night shift waitress, Bethany, set your plate of steaming waffles on the table as well as a glass syrup dispenser. She knew you by name and you thanked her for the food. She smiled sweetly and left you be. 

The door chimed, denoting the entry of another patron. You didn’t look up. Bethany greeted the person in her cheerful customer service voice. You knew she didn’t actually sound like that. Once, you glimpsed her smoking a cigarette by the dumpster at the back of the diner arguing with her boyfriend on her cell phone. She had a tired voice. You wondered if she was lonely, too.

As you ate, Bethany took the patron’s order. From where you sat, his voice was a mumble. “You got it!” Bethany said before breezing away.

You glanced up from your food at the patron. Hair dyed blond, dark brown at the roots. He had a gentle face and a mouth made for smiling or furtively suppressing them. Tattoos were stippled on his arm all the way down to his knuckles. He was staring down at his phone, his fingers were slender and embellished with many silver rings. He was impossibly handsome. A paragon of beauty. 

And he looked up. Right at you. Why was it at that moment you happened to notice him, he decided to notice you, too?

Your scalp prickled with hot embarrassment. You immediately averted your eyes back to your waffles. There was only a bite remaining. Good. You could finish, get your check, pay, and leave.

Boldly, you chanced another glimpse. He did, too. This time, a smile, broad and lovely, stretched across his face. It was endearing and intimate and you had never felt so seen. It was exhilarating. A small smile crept onto your mouth. You couldn’t help it. His smile was contagious. 

This was how the following hour went. Weighted glances and secret smiles from across the room. He received his food, and he picked up his plate and mug of coffee and…was he coming this way?

You watched him, eyes wide, as he sauntered over to your booth and set his items on your table. “May I sit?” he said. His voice was the perfect match to his face. Smooth, sonorous, soft. Crushed velvet. 

Jerkily, like you had never done it before, you nodded. He sat. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” you replied. 

“I’m Jungkook.”

You told him your name. He repeated it once, twice, thrice. Like he enjoyed the feel of it in his mouth, rolling it around like a piece of hard candy he didn’t want to dissolve on his tongue just yet. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He reached his hand over the table. You smiled and shook it. 

His plate was piled with pancakes and sausages and scrambled eggs. He dug in. In between bites, he asked, “So what brings you here at this time of night?” “I have trouble sleeping. And you?” Your chest was tight with the awkwardness of it all, but he appeared to be perfectly at ease. 

“I’m just a night owl. Or I’m a vampire.” He shrugged nonchalantly as he continued eating.

Surprisingly, laughter bubbled from you until you couldn’t help the giggles that shook you. How long had it been since you had a conversation with anyone? Your store had been a drought for the past month, only a couple of people coming in a day. You didn’t call home because your parents would ask how you’ve been, and that topic lit a fire in your skull. Bethany was just a waitress doing her job. And Nora was always busy. It was refreshing to have someone sit with you. Talk with you. Want to be near you. 

His eyes danced at the sound of your laughter. It was an innocuous expression, boyish in how pure it was. 

You covered your mouth with your hands to mask the laughter. And he gently grabbed your wrist and removed them. “I like your laugh.”

Butterflies unfurled their wings in your stomach and fluttered in a frantic cluster. He resumed his meal as if nothing happened. “So what do you do?”

You cleared your throat. “I own a used book and record store downtown. It’s small and kind of hidden from the street, but it’s there.” You chuckled nervously. You were proud of that store, but you might have to close it down soon and return to your hometown with your tail tucked in between your legs if the revenue continued as it did. 

His eyebrows shot up. “Wow. That’s super cool. I like records. Books, not so much. Where is it located?”

You told him the address. “By that bodega on the corner.”

“The one that sells the really good blue raspberry shaved ice?”

You snapped your fingers. “That’s the one.”

“I’ll definitely have to stop by.” 

This was how the next few hours went. Talking about everything and nothing. He had lived in the city his entire life, worked as a freelance artist, had an apartment not too far away. Plates had been swept away by Bethany long ago. Refills poured, drained, and poured again.

And then, “Do you maybe want to get out of here? Kick it at my place?” Jungkook asked. His expression was open and genuine. 

You didn’t know if that was a good idea. But talking to him was stimulating and you didn’t want it to end. 

He noticed your hesitation. “Turn you location on your phone, I’ll even give you my address so you can send it to your friends. Anything to make you feel comfortable.”

He was right. He didn’t live that far. It was barely past five o’ clock in the morning, the city was still awake, billboards alight. The buildings towered, dark against the predawn blue of the sky. The apartment building was modest and typical of the city. Clean and affordable but just expensive enough to be appealing to a specific demographic of college students and those with decent enough jobs. His apartment was on the third floor and was charming with brick walls and high ceilings. There was a bookshelf packed with vinyl records, even more in milk crates. A record player in pristine condition sat on an end table beside an armchair. 

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Jungkook said, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on a hook beside the front door. 

“You said you liked records,” you replied, browsing his collection. 

“I did.”

“This isn’t liking records. This is a goddamn treasure trove.” You pushed your hair behind your ear, eager to move it from your face. “Bowie, Billie Holiday, Bob Dylan, Prince. You even have a rare version of Hendrix’s Electric Ladyland. With the naked women! This is incredible.” 

He laughed. “I see you are a woman of taste.” 

“If only my dad could see this. I’m afraid to touch anything.” 

“I’m sure you don’t have clumsy hands with records. Since you have a record store and all.”

You laughed. “I appreciate the trust.”

“So what would you like to listen to?”

You mulled it over, taking your time examining the sleeves of the records. Then you found one.

He smiled when you showed him the cover art. “Perfect.” 

Frank Ocean’s Blond. A modern classic. Perfect for the liminal hour of five AM. 

Jungkook slipped it from its sleeve, fingers on the slim rounded edges of the record. He carefully settled it on the turntable, placed the needle on the disc, and played the album. There was the classic crackle of vinyl, and then the first track emanated. It was a phantasm of sound, rich and ethereal. Light but weighted. The song was the deep blue of the sky before the sun decided to pull itself above the horizon and emblazon the sky with its myriad of colors. It was the perfect song for this liquid moment that felt like a dream. This beautiful stranger standing before you with his incredible collection. 

And then you were in Jungkook’s arms, slowly swaying to the music. You smiled up at him and him down at you. 

The album continued on in the living room, serenading to no one. You and Jungkook had moved to the bedroom, lounging on the bed. The horizon blushed peach, casting the room in half-light. You both lay on your backs, him with an arm slung casually behind his head, you with your hands folded delicately on your stomach. 

“Thank you for paying for my meal today,” you said to him meekly. 

He smiled. “Thank you for the great conversation. And having an amazing taste in music.” 

You laughed. “What made you come sit with me anyway?”

That was when he looked at you, his mouth still slung in a smile, but his eyes sincere. “Because you’re beautiful.”

Your cheeks went hot and you giggled nervously, covering it with your hands. He rolled over and carefully removed them, his eyes on yours. For a brief moment, time was still. Your breath caught in your throat. He was so close. His lips were so close. Your noses were just barely brushing. His voice was husky when he said, “I like your laugh.”

And then he kissed you. 

In the living room, Frank Ocean sang about nights and new beginnings. 

In the bedroom, you and Jungkook were breathless. Hands on thighs. Hands in hair. Teeth on collarbones. It was a innocent hunger, one that never got too peckish. He was careful with you, didn’t dare to remove your clothes. “I like you,” he breathed into your neck. You gasped at the sensation. 

You kissed until you both eventually succumbed to sleep, the morning sun pouring drowsy golden light across the room.

It was well into the afternoon when you woke to the sound of a shower running. The room was unfamiliar. Definitely not your barren apartment with the boxes strewn about the place. And you definitely weren’t on your living room mattress tangled amongst its waves of sheets. The bed you were in was the most comfortable you’ve ever experienced. Brick walls, plants, beautiful abstract canvas paintings leaning against the wall. Then you remembered. 

The diner. The vinyl collection. The sunrise. The kiss. 

Jungkook. 

He was in the shower and you were fully dressed and the night had to have been a dream. But it wasn’t. Reality settled back onto your shoulders in agonizing waves. You were hours late opening the store. But oh, you wanted to burrow into these soft, sweet-smelling sheets and dissolve into nothing. Eventually you got up. 

The door to the bathroom was open. You thought about telling him you were leaving, but instead, you drew your name and number into the mirror steam and went home to shower and change yourself.

An entire week went by and he never called. He didn’t return to the diner, either. It hurt. Every time you lay on your side, willing yourself to sleep, the phantom feeling of his hands and lips barreled you at such an unwelcome rush you would gasp. None of it was real. You had to keep telling yourself that. None of it was real. 

Life went back to normal. Jungkook was a fleeting daydream that sifted in and out of your thoughts. The store still barely got any customers, except for the same two or three crate diggers who visited like ghosts. And then Nora, your best friend, breezed through the door. She was a city girl through and through. Large sunglasses, the omnipresent iced coffee, the expensive wardrobe curated specifically for being in front of a camera. She was partly why you moved here. The two of you were from the same hometown, and she had escaped first to chase the tail of a fashion designer career. 

“Move here!” she had said during a phone call. “You’ll love it. You’re super hipster and this city eats that shit up! And you can open up that record and book store you always dreamed of.” 

She wasn’t wrong. You loved this city but this city seemed to not love you back. Now, she pushed her sunglasses up into her hair and set her iced coffee on the counter top before you. You were sitting behind the register, feet up and reading a book when she had come in. You looked up from the paperback in your hands. “And what have I done to deserve your presence, Your Highness?”

“Good morning, dork! We’re going to a party.”

You kicked your feet down. Slipped a bookmark in the book and closed it. And you simply said, “No.”

She blinked, her smile stiff. “Why not?” 

“You know I have to open this place every single morning. I can’t go to a party and get drunk and miss another opening.”

“Stop making this store your entire life.”

“It is my entire life.”

“Well, live another one. Just for one night.” She clasped her hands together and actually pouted. “Please.”

You sighed. “You don’t have anyone else to go with?”

She perked up and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Oh, I do. I just want you to go with me. I want you to have fun for once. All you’ve done since you been here was work.”

Every single dollar and penny from your savings went to this store. It was your lifelong dream. And Nora—lovely, naïve Nora—had never needed to work for anything a day in her life. She meant well. She was never intentionally ignorant. But that didn’t make it any less frustrating. 

She also didn’t know of your time with Jungkook. It was embarrassing that he never called. It angered you that he called you beautiful and said he liked you only for it all to be false. Thank goodness you didn’t have sex with him. 

“I’ll have fun once I’m a millionaire or something,” you said to Nora.

She huffed. “I can find you someone to cover the shop for the night. You won’t even have to pay them. Please just come with me.”

“No. What if they steal something.”

She stared at you flatly. “Do you really think any of my friends—my friends—would steal? Let alone steal any of this stuff? No offense.” 

“Why do you want me to go so badly?”

“I already said. Fun. You know, music, drinks, guys.” She sang the last word and accompanied it with a little shimmy. 

“I have plenty of music and I can buy my own drinks.”

She slammed her hand against the counter top, startling you. “Stop being fucking difficult and come have some fun with me.”

So, grudgingly, you went. Albeit late because you didn’t trust anyone else to close the shop for you, but you went nonetheless. Nora did your makeup. Just glitter eyeshadow and a little eyeliner because you insisted you didn’t want much. And she picked out your outfit—a black lace bra, a crop top cardigan, and a pair of white shorts. 

“Because I can’t dress myself?” you grumbled, sliding on the clothes. 

“Exactly that. You dress too…hipster-y. You need to be hot for tonight.” 

You hadn’t worn that bra since you dated Namjoon. He was pretentious and arrogant and such a city boy it made you lightheaded. You met when he waltzed into the store shortly after you moved here. He smiled at you and you practically melted. The books were what he came for. He bought a Russian classic novel and at checkout, he discussed with you the allegory of sharing fruit in literature. He was eloquent and intelligent and so damn gorgeous you fell for him in that same moment. He scribbled his number on the receipt and told you to keep it. 

The relationship lasted for four months. He suggested you move into his high rise apartment downtown with him. It was a modern edifice, all glass and steel and money. He was the wealthiest person you had ever met in your life. And, stupidly, you were in love. 

And then you saw his text messages with some unfairly beautiful girl he followed on social media about how good she looked in his bed . He said he was lonely, that you worked too much, what else was he supposed to do? Needless to say, you left him. And you hadn’t seen him since. 

Now, Nora said to you, “And don’t think about wearing those fucking platform boots.”

“Why not?” you said, frowning. “They’re cute.”

“They look ridiculous. Like those boots that one goth girl from that cartoon you like wore.” 

You grinned, mischievous. “That’s exactly why I bought them.”

To Nora’s dismay, you wore the fucking platform boots. 

The party was in an underground venue. It wasn’t all red wine and an elaborate excuse to brag about money, like the gatherings Namjoon liked, it was edgy. A live band played pop punk on a stage, the lights in the place were dim save for the spotlights and the white Christmas lights behind the bar. Greasy pizza and liquor and neon lights. You brushed elbows with someone smoking a joint, and you were pretty sure someone was doing coke in the bathroom. 

Nora pulled you to the bar where she ordered herself a cocktail and you a craft beer. She knew you so well. 

There were so many people here. You mentally kicked yourself for not bringing flyers for your store. 

And then you saw him. Nora was talking your ear off about how hot the frontman for the band was and you almost choked on your beer. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you spat.

Nora blinked rapidly. “What? What happened?”

“This is why you brought me here. You cunt.” You didn’t mean to call her that. It wasn’t a word worn with frequent use in your vocabulary. In fact, you hated the word. But it was deserved in this situation. 

Namjoon. He was standing near the stage with a craft beer of his own in his hand, bobbing his head to the music. He didn’t like places like this. They were tacky to him. He didn’t even listen to this genre of music. What the hell was he doing here? 

The girl standing next to him turned to him and smiled. She was wearing lipstick as red as murder and her bob was so black it reflected the lights with an envious luster. She had a septum piercing, the two silver balls glittering in the low light like two tiny stars. That’s when it clicked. He was here because of her. She was that unfairly beautiful girl in his text messages. Your skin felt incandescent. 

“He had to see how hot you are. I thought you would enjoy shoving that in his face.” Lovely, naïve Nora. You wanted to slap her. 

You stood from the bar stool and set your craft beer on the bar. “I’m leaving now.”

Her face was slack with regret. Before she could form an apology, you turned and walked away. 

You were a few moments from the door when you heard your name. It wasn’t Nora. You stopped and your breath hitched. Your turned slowly, preparing to see Namjoon with that girl by his side but instead—

“Jungkook?”

His hair was black now and almost as shiny as that girl’s bob. It hung past his ears in gentle waves. He stood there in a baggy black shirt and jeans, his thumbs tucked into the front pockets. Silver bracelets draped from both wrists. In this lighting, he looked ethereal. Infernal. This couldn’t be the same man you shared a chimerical morning with. He looked like he had been created by the darkness of the city’s nights. 

Maybe it was just the hair. 

“Hi,” he said in the same way he did when he sat your table at the diner. It could’ve been mistaken as sheepishness, but his eyes were not meek. Besides the hair, you couldn’t figure out what was so different about him. 

Breathlessly, you said, “Hi.”

“You look nice.” 

Over his shoulder, you noticed Namjoon go to the bar. Nora scowled at him. He smiled amicably at her and his mouth moved, saying something. She froze, and her eyes immediately darted to you. Namjoon turned and saw you. And he started your way. 

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asked.

You should’ve ran out of the venue. There were a million other things you should’ve done, but instead you grabbed Jungkook and kissed him. 

Initially, he went rigid with shock, but he melted into the kiss. You felt him smile against your mouth. “Miss me that much?”

You pulled away. “I did not.” A glance over his shoulder and Namjoon was gone. You audibly exhaled. 

“What happened?” 

You ran a hand over your face. “Ex.”

“Ah,” he said. “Is that why you were leaving?”

“Yes. And now I’m going. Goodbye.” You whirled around, shoulders tense with embarrassment and headed for the stairs. 

“Wait.” He caught up to you on the stairs. “Can I go with?” There were small white string lights strung in the stairwell and the glow reflected in his eyes. They were so brown. 

“Don’t you have friends to be with?” Your phone buzzed in your back pocket with an incoming text message. Most likely your own friend dying to know who the guy you just kissed was. You ignored it. 

“They’ll be fine.” He grinned. 

“Okay,” you said, feeling yourself smile as well.

There was no destination, but you ended up at a park, sitting beside each other on a swing set. Your feet dragged in the wood chips as you pushed yourself back and forth slowly. He looked up at the night sky and sighed. “Do you want to know why I hadn’t called?”

You just looked at him. 

“This may sound like a corny excuse, but… I was afraid of what you would think of me.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated before saying, “If we continued seeing each other, you would eventually find out that I’m not a freelance artist. I do paint, but that’s not what I do.”

You could feel your heartbeat gradually speeding its pace. “What do you do?” His eyes fell down to his hands. He turned them over, studying the lines in his palms. His hair slipped over his eyes. He was a portrait of affliction. “I’m a Lost Boy.”

You didn’t understand. He noticed your silence and looked up at you. “The Lost Boys. This city is practically run by them.” He corrected himself, “Ran by us.” He stopped, closed his eyes, and sighed. “I’m in a gang.”

Your voice was a whisper. “What?”  

He quickly added, “If you no longer want to associate with me, I understand. They’re—we’re—dangerous. I mean, even if you haven’t heard of us, you know us. The leather jackets, the vandalism, the fights. That venue is owned by us. The drugs at that event were supplied by us. That band playing is in our pockets. My apartment is paid by dirty money.” He laughed quietly to himself then, almost pityingly. 

The night air around you was thick with your own dread. “Is being around you dangerous?” You hadn’t meant for your voice to sound so small.

“I won’t hurt you, if that’s what you’re asking.” You could hear the unsaid “but” in his tone. 

“But what?” you prompted.

He chewed on his lip. A dimple in his left cheek appeared. “I won’t hurt you, but I can’t promise your safety. If you do decide to be around me.”

--

[platypanthewriter]

Pillow

Harringrove April prompt 28, Pillow.  Billy fixes some things, for Max. (It’s another short one omg guys praise me)

Billy got home a little drunk, spreading his hands occasionally when his boots hit nothing, stumbling on the sidewalk.  He thought—maybe—he could crawl in through his window, his dad would be asleep—but the closer he walked, the higher up it got, and he stopped, squinting.  

Better sleep in the car, he decided, fumbling the keys out of his pocket, and he walked over to the curb, only to see the back seat lit up with a flashlight already, the light flashing off the dash and the rearview mirror.  He stalked over like a jungle cat only to see Max curled up with her walkie-talkie, the flashlight hanging in her hand, lighting up wet tears on her cheeks.

It took like ten flicks of his lighter to light his cigarette, and he wondered if he was drunker than he thought, leaning against the car, listening to her on the walkie-talkie through the open windows of his Camaro.  

“I was gonna say something,��� she said shakily.  “I can’t—I can’t take him anymore, and she—my mom knew, she grabbed my shoulder, just trembling, you know?  She knows if I fight him he’ll hurt me, or her, I can’t—”

She took a long, shuddery breath, and she must have clicked the button, because then it was a boy’s voice.  “Don’t make him mad—”

“You don’t know what it’s like living with somebody like Neil,” she said, flatly.  “You don’t know, okay, don’t tell me—” she cleared her throat, and then clicked it again, and the boy came on.

“—don’t know, I don’t, but don’t let him hurt you—”

“There’s nothing I can do to stop him,” she said, dryly.  “He keeps saying he’d never hit us, you know?  He tells me this.  He pushes me up against the wall, he says ‘I’d never hit you or your mom,’ and you know what I hear?”

“...what?” came the other voice, a whisper.

“I hear he can’t hardly stop thinking about it,” said Max, laughing like she was trying not to cry, and Billy stared up at the skies, smoking his cigarette, listening to her try to sleep, curled in the tiny back of his Camaro, her head against the molded vinyl instead of a pillow.

He watched the stars, thinking. 

 When he figured it was light enough the next morning, he pushed himself to his feet, shoving himself upright against the car door and staggering a little.  He winced as he stretched, feeling like he was a hundred and ten.  He walked around and dropped into the driver’s seat, listening to Max’s muffled yell with satisfaction.

“Billy,” she whispered, scrambling to the other side of the car.

“How bad you wanna get out of here,” he asked, glancing at her in the rearview mirror as he tapped his pack of cigarettes, frowned into it, and lit the last one.  “You okay with shit like dishes?  Laundry?”

“...I can do my own laundry,” she whispered warily, glaring at him.  

“You gonna pick up your own shit?” he asked her, raising his eyebrows.

“...won’t pick up yours,” she shot back, and he couldn’t help grinning, a little.  

 He skipped school and visited a realtor that day.  He had to hit the bank and show her the money he’d been saving for a deposit on an apartment in southern California, but she let him in a few places, and two days later, he hauled Max in the car after school even though she was trying to go to the arcade.  He grabbed her friends for good measure.  “Come on, you little titsuckers, we’re moving out,” he told them, and one of them called Harrington to come and help, with his bigger car.

He mostly ignored Billy—he talked Susan down, though, when Billy and Max stomped in and announced they were blowing this shithole, and she started to cry—and he grabbed Billy’s stereo from the kids, and he was careful.  

It was perfectly obvious the big shit wasn’t gonna fit in either of their cars, and Billy was packing boxes of Max’s clothes in Steve Harrington’s car when Steve told the kids to haul the furniture out, too.

“We can’t fit that,” Billy told him.  “He’ll be home in a couple hours, we can’t fit it anyway—”

Steve glanced at him, but told them to haul everything out, and of course they listened to Harrington, instead of leaving Billy’s bed where it was.  Steve snapped under Billy’s nose and pointed to the passenger seat, and Billy got in, because Steve was right about one thing only, and that was that his Camaro trunk was the size of a small cat, and he’d waste more gas than he’d manage to haul belongings.

Halfway through town, he stopped, and even though it was nowhere near Neil’s office, it wasn’t where Billy told him to go, and his heart nearly stopped with the engine.  But all Steve did was hand him the keys, his eyes tired, and climb out.

“Don’t crash my car,” he said, as Billy stared at him.  “...go unload,” he added, when Billy glared at the keys, still bewildered, and then he walked off, and Billy decided to take advantage of some good luck for once, and take Harrington up on his offer.  He drove over and got the car unloaded—and rethought the number of stairs he’d accepted—and then drove back to find the kids and Harrington loading up a U-Haul truck.  Billy stopped his borrowed car right in the road, staring again, until some asshole honked, and then pulled up and parked, trying to figure out what was going on.  

“We’ve got nearly everything,” Harrington told him.  “Check around and see what we missed.”

Billy nodded, wandering into the house to find his room stripped, and Susan crying.  “I went to the bank,” she said, sniffling, and held out a wad of cash.  “You tell me if you need anything,” she sobbed, “—you—you tell me,” she dropped her voice to a whisper, grabbing his hands, and pressing them around what looked like a roll of hundred dollar bills.

“I will find a place soon,” she said, setting her jaw.  “Keep yourselves safe until then?”

“...what,” Billy said, and she bit her lips together, swallowing hard.  

“...stay safe, both of you,” she said.  “Billy, I pulled out the records I know you like, they’re in a crate on the table.”

He stared at the money in his hands, and she pushed the crate into his arms, and maneuvered him out the door.

 When they got most of the furniture up the stairs of Billy and Max’s place, the kids were horrified there was only one bedroom, and Billy just shoved Max’s bed into it, and waved them and their boxes inside.

“No, it’s fine,” Max breathed, unsteadily, as Will—kids kept showing up, and Billy honestly wasn’t sure whether one was giving him a different name every time, or whether he was the same kid—offered to paint designs on her walls.  “It’s—it’s good, it’s amazing.”

The one she’d talked to the night she’d decided wedging herself in the back seat of his car was a more relaxing night than any with Neil was there, and Billy remembered trying to kick his ass, and tried to grab all the heavier boxes from him, and the kid watched him, as tiredly as Billy felt.  

Once they were basically moved in—with no food, or cleaning supplies, but moved, anyway—Harrington ordered everyone pizza from the payphone on the corner, and left to return the U-Haul, and Billy watched him go, wondering how the hell his life would balance that all out.  Maybe he’d get flattened in a freak accident.  Maybe somebody would drop a cow on him from a plane.

Harrington returned and brought food—milk, apples, sandwich stuff, cereal, and TV dinners he stuck in the avocado-colored fridge that looked older than Max—and Billy tried to give him the money Susan had given him, but Harrington shoved it back, rolling his eyes.  “Didn’t do this for you, Hargrove,” he said, wrinkling his nose, and then frowning over at Max.  “...but this is a...good thing, you’re doing.  Lemme know if I can help.”

Billy wished furiously, his eyes burning for a long second, that anyone would have helped if he’d been alone, and then rubbed his face.  He took a slow breath.  “Yeah,” he said, smirking.  “I know it’s not for me.”

“No, I didn’t—that’s not quite—” Steve said, groaning.  “I didn’t know you...were the kinda person who’d wanna help Max.  I...thought you were...not like that.  I wanna help the kind of brother who’d do all this.”

“...she’s not my sister,” Billy said, out of habit, watching Max laugh at everything her friends said, out of sheer relief.  A girl had shown up, and Max was half collapsed on her, giggling, with tears rolling down her pink cheeks.

“Even more so, then,” Harrington said.  “You’re trying to do the right thing.  I’m...I’m glad to help.  I don’t need your money.”

Billy nodded, his eyes burning again, and he blinked rapidly, sniffling hard, and rubbing his nose.  

 Everybody stuck around until Billy chased them out, and then it was Max, Billy, and Steve Harrington, who’d done so much Billy didn’t dare tell him to go home.  Max curled up on the couch, mumbling sleepily after a day of hauling furniture up stairs, and Billy dug around in her boxes until he found the bedding.  Steve came in and helped him make the bed, and then went out and walked Max in, muttering angrily until she flopped across the bed with a groan of delight.

“...she was sleeping in the back of my Camaro,” Billy told Steve, watching her lazily kick one shoe in the air as she hugged an armful of comforter.  “Head wedged up against the vinyl, to get herself far as possible from...Neil.”  Steve nodded, glancing over, and Billy laughed, scrabbling at his hair, and looking around at the boxes to be unpacked, and the shit piled everywhere.  “...now she has a pillow, at least,” he whispered, forcing a laugh.  

Steve reached over and squeezed his shoulder.  “Let’s find yours,” he said, frowning around, and rolling up his sleeves.

[checkurwindow]

i’m so scared

Book: Open Heart

Warnings: It’s a lot longer than my usual fic and much angstier, but hope you enjoy it!

Rating: Teen for light swearing.

Pairing: Ethan x F!MC

Word count: 5200+ I KNOW!! It’s the single longest piece of writing I’ve ever written.

Author’s note: I’m actually really proud of this fic so please reblog and let me know what you thought of it! Here’s my masterlist for more content! I wrote a sequel to this fic too!

One

That’s how old she was when her father left. Her mother knew that he was never going to stay, but that didn’t stop her from breaking down every night for 3 months when she thought her beloved daughter had fallen asleep, when instead she lay awake, wondering what could have happened to make her mother hide her sadness every day, only letting her walls come down when she thought nobody was watching. 

She didn’t understand much beyond that, just knowing that her dear old dad had left for a pack of cigarettes and milk, but left behind only a stack of legal papers on the counter while her mother had gone off to work, desperate to give her little girl the best life she could.

Two

The number of people in her family. She and her mom, her mom and her. It was just the two of them, or at least that’s what her mother told her every time she asked. She was fine with that, she loved her mother with all her little heart. She didn’t need anybody else.

Her mom had found a job in Providence, a job that could support both of them, and an apartment that had a reasonable rent. She was scared at first, moving to a “big city”, but her mom assured her that it was a kingdom, and she was the princess. 

Three

That was the number of bracelets she had gotten for her fifth birthday. She and her mom had been walking downtown, running some errands, when they walked past a jewelry store and saw the set of three bracelets in the store window.

She had asked her mom if she could have them, even resorting to using her best puppy dog eyes in an attempt to persuade her. 

Her mom had told her that they were too expensive, and they didn’t have enough money to buy them. She was disappointed, sulking the rest of the way home.

3 weeks later, her mom returned to the jewelry store, spending almost a month's worth of her salary to buy that special set of bracelets for her daughter. She was beyond excited when she woke up on her birthday and saw that bright pink box next to her bed.

She started showing off those prized possessions of hers to all her friends at school. One was gold with a diamond charm, the other was silver with a ruby charm. The last was bronze with a deep sapphire charm. The bronze one was her favourite, even after Derek Reagan said it was ugly. She told Derek that he was ugly. 

Four

That was the grade she was in when she met him.

It was a usual Monday, she was rushing through some unfinished homework when Mr Kingston, her teacher entered, accompanied by a boy who looked just a little taller than her. 

Turns out it was a new student, transferring from another school that had just closed down. He was wearing a blue button-down, a big difference from the rest of the boys in her class whose t-shirts were either dinosaurs, or cars, or superheroes. He introduced himself as Ethan Jonah Ramsey while the rest of the class stared blankly at him, before returning to their own friends. Mr Kingston assigned him to the seat next to her.

“Hi, Eefen Jonah!” She waved excitedly at him as he sat down next to her.

“My name is Ethan, Jonah is my middle name,” he corrected.

She made a small ‘o’ with her mouth, thinking for a short while before responding, “I prefer Eef,” she smiled, making him blush slightly.

She took a container out of her bag, opening it to reveal large apple slices. She took one in each hand, careful not to let them slip as she turned back towards him, offering the slice in her left hand.

He slowly took one and smiled, “thanks,” he said when he noticed the set of sparkly jewelry on her wrist, “I like your bracelets.”

Five

That’s how many people were in her friend group by middle school.

First, there was Jackie Varma. She thought Jackie was a little mean when she first met her, she always picked fights with everyone. But she soon learned that she was only mean to people she didn’t like, and she even called Derek stupid when he was mean to her. She asked Jackie if she wanted to have lunch with her after that.

Next was Sienna Trinh. She was nice to everyone, and her first friend at school. She always shared her food, usually sweet treats, with everyone in class, even when Jackie was convinced they were poisonous, she never stopped radiating her positivity.

Bryce Lahela was a flirt. And rightfully so, as every girl in her class had a crush on him. Every girl except her. Bryce was convinced he knew the reason why, and voiced his opinion every chance he got, “She doesn’t have a crush on me because she’s in love with Ramsey, that’s the only reason.”

She would always blush when he said that, which was often seeing how he and Jackie bickered daily about it. Yes, she and Ethan had been best friends since fourth grade. Yet that was all they were. Best friends, never venturing out of that sacred zone. 

And then there was Ramsey himself. He had gotten tall, very tall. He was easily the tallest of the group, while she was one of the shortest, barely taller than Sienna. He was a bit gangly and awkward, sometimes very quiet as well, but he was her best friend. 

Six

That was the day of the month Ethan was born.

He was turning fifteen, and begged his dad for money instead of his usual books. His dad thought it was strange, as reading had quickly become one of his favorite pastimes, but waved it off as typical teenager behaviour. 

A couple days before, she had lost her treasured bracelets. She had taken them off during art class, careful not to spill paint and ruined her favourite set of jewelry. She had rushed off after class because she wanted to get the cafeteria pizza while it was still fresh and hot for all her friends, and accidentally left the bracelets behind. When she came back to get them after lunch, however, they were gone. She cried for the first time in what felt like forever. 

Ethan’s dad had done what he had asked of him, giving him cash for his birthday. Upon receiving his present, he rushed up to his room and took his box of savings out from the top of his closet, almost falling off the chair he was climbing to get them. 

He hurriedly counted up all his money, adding to the amount he had been saving, ecstatic when he realised he had a little more than what he needed. He quickly ran out, wallet in hand, barely able to tell his dad that he was going out as he sprinted out the front door.

He finally made it to the jewelry store that, after much research, he knew carried the same set of bracelets as the ones his best friend had lost. The attendant asked what a young man like himself was doing buying such an expensive set of jewelry, teasing about if using all his hard-earned cash by doing extra chores was really worth it for a girl. 

He smiled widely, heart racing from the sprint over, but nodded rapidly, forking over the money he had planned to use to buy a new set of books. When he got home, he put the shiny new bracelets in a box, doing his best to wrap them in bright red wrapping paper, her favourite colour. 

At school the next day, he got in early and slipped the box into her desk drawer before she arrived. 

“Eef,” that’s what she called him when something big was happening, “you won’t believe what I found!” she squealed to him after class.

She told him all about the bracelets she found at her desk, while he smiled and nodded, telling her he was happy for her. Jackie made eye contact with him and gave him a knowing look, his eyes darting around the room when he realised, but she didn’t say a word about it after that. 

Seven

The number of med schools she applied to. They all applied to med schools. 

She applied to Harvard, Yale, Stanford, Princeton, Brown, NYU, and Johns Hopkins.

She was accepted to all of them, which was more than impressive. Her mother had never been prouder of her. 

Ethan never told her, but he applied to the same schools as her, all seven. He got into all of them except Harvard, so hoped to every powerful being up beyond the night sky that she wouldn’t accept their invitation. He wasn’t ready to lose her, not yet, maybe not ever. 

After spending countless coffee-fueled nights sorting through and weighing the pros and cons of each school, she finally decided on Johns Hopkins. Ethan did too, after he determined that they had the best professors there. At least, that’s what he told her when she asked how he decided.

Sienna, one of her closer friends in the group, was her shoulder to cry on if Ethan wasn’t around, which was rare but had happened a couple times throughout the years. Sienna decided to go to Princeton, along with her boyfriend, Wayne, or was it Dwayne? Nobody really knew as he never bothered to show up most of the time when they reluctantly invited him per Sienna’s request.

The rest of their friend group split up, each going to a different med school. They made a pact one drunken night the summer before they all headed out to med schools all across the country. 

They promised to meet up every chance they could, even if it meant driving in the middle of the night through storm and snow. Jackie insisted it was way too cheesy when Sienna half sobbed, half stated it while they sat on Bryce’s rooftop, bottles of alcohol and snacks surrounding them, but in the end, the tears made Jackie agree. 

Ethan helped her pack for college, something she assured him she could easily do herself but he insisted anyway. He helped move her things into her dorm, something he hadn’t yet done for himself but he didn’t care. They met her roommate, Grace Young, who upon first seeing them, mistakenly assumed they were dating. She quickly corrected Grace, properly introducing Ethan as her best friend. 

Eight 

That’s the number of years it took for Ethan to realise he was in love with her. 

Why it had taken him so long, he didn’t have a single clue. He should’ve realised it sooner, but now he couldn’t not see it. Ethan was completely sure he was mind-blowingly in love with her.

Why hadn’t he noticed the first day he met her, when she immediately shared her apple slices with him, making him feel welcome and accepted unlike most of the class. Sure, he had figured out long ago that she was beautiful, but he never thought it was love. 

Why hadn’t he noticed it all through middle school, when Bryce mercilessly teased the both of them about it. “Damn,” he thought, “I hate it when Bryce is right.”

And why had he not realised it in high school, when he spent all his savings he earned over countless summers to replace the bracelets that she lost? When instead of bullying her, Derek Reagan started flirting with her, which made Ethan so angry when he saw it happen, but ecstatic when she turned him down in front of the whole school, citing all the times he had bullied and picked on her. Friends don’t do that for each other. But she was more than just a friend, wasn’t she? 

Ethan should’ve known when he followed her 370 miles away from their hometown just to be at the same med school as her. Sure, it was a great school, but that wasn’t the reason he was there. He was there for her. You don’t just do that for a friend you like or even have a crush on. No, he loved her. 

It was quite ridiculous, really. How had she gotten him wrapped around her finger, and without him even realising for so many years? Ethan knew he was helpless to her charms, he would do anything she wanted him to do, he would’ve followed her to the ends of the earth if she had asked. 

But did she know? That was the thought that circled around his head during sleepless nights as he tossed and turned in his bed. Did she know how weak she made him? How helpless he was when it came to anything that had to do with her? 

He quickly decided that she couldn’t have known. She wouldn’t have let him spend all his birthday money and savings on her, let him follow her to med school, let him torture himself all these years if she knew it was all for her. 

Nine

That’s how many apartment listings she had to choose from. 

She sat in the coffee shop near the hospital reading over the listings. Now that they had started their residency, Grace had been matched with another hospital and moved in with fellow interns there. 

This one was too expensive, that one would be too loud. She had no idea which one to choose. And to add to her troubles, she had no roommate. There was no way she could find a reasonable place in downtown Boston without a roommate, it was impossible.

That’s when Ethan walked through the door, his hair combed to perfection as usual. 

“Ethan, thank god you’re here. Come help me pick out an apartment,” she pleaded, showing him pictures of all the listings.

He shrugged his jacket off as he sat down next to her, inhaling the comforting scent of hers he had grown to love over all these years that wafted through the air. 

“This one looks nice,” he pointed to one of the listings, “barely a block away from the hospital, great lighting, tons of restaurants around, and the rent would be affordable for two people.” 

“I know, it’s perfect but I can’t afford it,” Ethan frowned and looked up at her in confusion.

She let out a defeated sigh, “I haven’t found a roommate yet, and there’s no way I can afford that place all on my own,” she admitted and turned back to the other listings in search of a cheaper place, the frown still evident on her face.

“I’ll be your roommate,” he mentally cursed himself the second those words escaped from his mouth. He had just offered to be roommates with his best friend that he just happened to be hopelessly in love with. What could possibly go wrong? 

His regrets immediately ceased to exist when her face lit up, full of delight. She threw her arms around him gratefully, hugging him as tightly as she could, and he knew every single moment would be worth it for her, “thank you so much, Eef!”

Ten 

That’s the number of times he had tried to tell her. 

The first time was when she came home after a bad day. It was pouring rain outside, and she had walked in completely drenched and in a mess of tears. After many attempts on Ethan’s part to try to get her to tell him what was wrong, he eventually gave up and stuck to comforting her instead. As she cried, soaking his clothes with not only her tears but the rain her clothes and hair had absorbed on the way in, he wanted nothing more than to tell her how much he loved her.

Then there was the time she convinced him to bake a cake together on their day off. He had accidentally gotten cake batter on her nose, and she laughed as she smeared some of it across his face, which resulted in a war using their leftover ingredients still on the counter. He never thought she was more beautiful than she was right there, and was tempted to risk it all. But he never did.

The third time was over the phone, he had gone home but she was still at Edenbrook, filling in patient charts when he received a call from her.

“Hey, Ethan.”

“Hey, what’s the call for?”

Her voice was momentarily shaky on the other end, it made his heart rate go up significantly, “I just wanted to tell you...hi,” was what she said after a long pause. 

“You called just to say hi?” he laughed.

“Yeah. I gotta go now, bye,” she hung up before he had a chance to respond.

The next time was when they watched a movie. “Maybe a romantic movie would help,” he thought to himself as he loaded up The Fault In Our Stars. He was wrong. The movie only made her cry again, and he couldn’t bring himself to tell her then. 

The next time, he was determined to finally do it. He stopped by the florist on the way home, picking up a bouquet of her favourite flowers, bougainvilleas. He even rehearsed the exact words he was going to say when he professed his love to her while walking back. But he opened the door only to be met with her wearing a stunning blue sundress that left him was speechless. Only she had that effect on him. 

The sixth time was in the middle of the night, around 1 am. Ethan couldn’t sleep, his head was clouded with thoughts of her and her alone. He convinced himself he was going to tell her. Yes, he was going to march into her room and tell her. He got up to tell her, but instead heard her throwing up when he approached the door. He spent the rest of the night comforting her and making sure she was okay. 

Then he decided he couldn’t do it himself. He called up Sienna, who had long since figured out who Ethan was in love with. Sienna actually laughed when he had asked her to tell her on his behalf. She thought it was a joke. When she realised he was being serious, her lighthearted behavior dissolved, instead, she firmly told him that he had to do it himself, and promptly hung up the phone. 

Eighth time’s the charm, right? Wrong. He thought of writing a letter, “it’s easier this way,” he thought. All he had to do was write his feelings down on a piece of paper and hand her the letter, easy. He then realised that it was far too impersonal. He knew her, hell, he spent more than half his life with her. And that’s why he knew that if he ever did it, she’d want to hear it in person from him directly.

Then he tried to tell her as they walked back from Edenbrook after a long shift. It was a typical Boston day, and Ethan decided there was no time like the present to tell her. He had every intention to tell her, he really did. But she received an important phone call that she needed to take just as he was about to open his mouth. 

Finally, he decided that he had had enough. He wasn’t going to let anything come between his plans to tell her the truth for a second longer than he needed to. He planned a delightful picnic for the both of them. They headed to a nearby park that she loved on a cool but sunny day, it was a perfect day. And that was what stopped him from telling her this time. 

They were having so much fun, what if by telling her the truth, he ruined the day. What if he ruined their entire friendship, years worth of time spent together wasted and down the drain all because he was so selfish? What if she didn’t reciprocate his feelings, and that was the last good memory of her that he had? He gave up trying to tell her after that.

Eleven

That’s how many times she tried to tell him. 

The first time was immediately after she found out. It was a shocking discovery, and she was lost as to what to do with the new information. It didn’t exactly help that it had been an awful day. On her way back to the apartment, it started to rain heavily. A terrible end to a terrible day, really. When she finally made it indoors, she instantly fell into his arms. She knew she could’ve told him there, but she didn’t. 

She decided that they needed to be doing something more fun and lighthearted, so she suggested baking, and was surprised when he actually agreed. But seeing him there, covered in cake batter, who knows how much flour, and grinning at her, she wanted to keep this memory.

After feeling guilty for not telling him that day, she called him while taking a break from charts.

“Hey, Ethan,” she said, building herself up to finally tell him.

“Hey, what’s the call for?” 

Her voice quivered, the nerves building up, “I just wanted to tell you,” she decided it was too much, she’d tell him another time, “...hi.”

‘You called just to say hi?” she heard his laugh on the other end.

She closed her eyes tightly, embarrassed, “yeah. I gotta go now, bye,” she hung up as quickly as she could.

The next time she tried to tell him was during movie night, but the bastard just had to pick The Fault In Our Stars. Since when did Ethan even start voluntarily watching romantic movies anyway? And he couldn’t have picked any other movie. She spent a good part of the rest of the night cursing the tears that choked back all the words she wanted to say. 

Then she was going to tell him when he got back to the apartment. She spent so long in the bathroom practicing what she was going to say to him in the mirror. Time and time again, pacing in her favourite blue sundress to calm her nerves as she recited the words back to herself. But then he showed up with a bouquet of her favorite flowers. He had always been so sweet like that to her. She really didn’t deserve him, and she hated herself for not telling her then. 

At 1 in the morning, she felt sick to her stomach, and rushed into her bathroom. She threw up all of her dinner from hours before, no doubt looking awful while doing so. Then Ethan showed up and spent the entire night comforting her. She knew she could’ve ended her own torture right then and there, and she was planning to. Up until she fell asleep on his shoulder. 

Maybe she didn’t have to be the one to tell him? And so she drove an hour back to Providence to see her mom, seeking advice. There must’ve been a better way to tell him, a way that wouldn’t be putting her through so much agony. Her mom only hugged her tightly. She told her that she was the only one who could make the decision to tell him and wished her the best of luck.

She sat at her desk and attempted to write a letter, but how could you write someone a letter to tell them about such a subject? There was no way words on a piece of paper could explain how she felt. It wasn’t fair to Ethan, it had to be done in person.

And then there was the time they were walking back home from the hospital. She would’ve told him there, she should’ve told him there, but she didn’t. Instead, she received a phone call. She knew exactly what the call would be about even before she tapped the ‘answer’ icon.

The next was the time he set up a picnic for the both of them. It was a perfect day, it was the perfect time to tell him, but that was the moment she realised she loved him. She just wasn’t willing to stain the moment she realised she loved her best friend with her horrible news. 

Finally, there was the time she actually told him the truth. It was cold, but she asked him to go up to the rooftop with her. He agreed, and they made their way up to the empty rooftop garden. They stood in silence as they looked out at the city around them, the city lights glittering like diamonds in the dark, or shooting stars in the night sky. Ethan tried to tell her first.

“I love—”

“Ethan, I’m dying.” 

Twelve 

That’s how many months are in a year. That’s how many inches are in a foot. That’s how many signs there are in the zodiac. That’s how many days of Christmas there are.

That wasn’t how many malignant tumours she had, Ethan refused to believe it. 

Well, as he soon learned, that there were most likely more than 12 tumours in the person he grew up with, the person he loves, the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, the person who had much less than a lifetime to live. There were twelve tumours over a month ago, and she hadn’t told him.

He was so caught up in his own feelings that he didn’t know his best friend had stage 4 pancreatic cancer. It was needless to say he felt like absolute shit. She had end-stage cancer and he, a doctor, couldn’t do a single fucking thing about it. 

He waited until he was out of her sight before he let all his emotions out, he asked her if she could go back in the apartment and leave him on the roof to process what had happened, she did. 

He knew all about pancreatic cancer, he knew that the symptoms usually don’t show up until it was too late,  he knew that it would’ve already spread all across her body. Yet, it didn’t stop him from completely breaking down after she went back down. 

He sobbed, he sobbed until all the tears were gone, then he shouted, he shouted at the night sky, shouting at every being up there, screaming at them, asking how they could possibly curse the most perfect person in the world with an untreatable tumour. 

Once he was done, once his tear ducts were dry and his throat was hoarse, he returned to the apartment, his eyes red and his throat sore. He quietly crept into her room, seeing those teary eyes of hers that broke his heart, that made every cell in his body hurt and scream. He wordlessly climbed into her bed and wrapped his arms around her. That was how they spent the rest of the night, him silently holding her in his arms, not willing to ever let go. 

She fell asleep fast, she was tired, she was always tired nowadays. He was the opposite, his mind racing. He spent the entire night hating himself for not realising sooner, for missing all the clues. All the clues that were right in front of his face this whole time. 

He remembered the first time he tried to tell her when she came home upset, was that when she learned the news? He thought about how she reacted to the movie they watched, he finally realised why she was crying so much more. Then there was the night she threw up, he cursed himself for missing that. It had been so obvious. But he hated himself the most for not spending all his time with her when he had the chance. 

Now as he sat in the hospital room, his head in his hands as she slept soundly, all he could do was wait. Wait for the cancer to take her from her friends, her family, from him. That’s all he could do now, wait. Ethan had been in the hospital for a week now, she’d wanted to be at Edenbrook so that he could see her during his breaks, but he hadn’t worked since the day he found out. 

He only went back to their apartment to take a shower every now and then, and even then he sprinted to and fro. They didn’t know when her time would be up, it could be hours, days, weeks, or even months. And he had to be around when she ran out of time, he would hate himself even more if he wasn’t. 

He had called all of their friends, and they all took turns showing up at her room to see her. Bryce showed up with a gigantic stuffed teddy bear that didn’t fail to make her laugh. Jackie came with a million stories about her horrible intern, attendings, and patients alike. Sienna came in everyday bearing fresh home-cooked food for her. 

His dad and her mom showed up most days too, providing words of encouragement for not only her, but him as well. They both figured out one way or another how he felt about her, and they knew how hard it was for him. 

Ethan was always at the hospital, but limited the time he spent in her room. He couldn’t stand being at her bedside, watching her groan and moan in pain as he was completely fine. Everything just felt too real for him. 

“Doctor Ramsey, she’s asking for you,” a nurse said. He looked up and nodded. His feet felt heavy, like they were made of bricks as he approached her room. He pushed the door open, and his heart dropped at the sight before him.

She was staring back at him, her eyes hadn’t changed a single bit. The rest of her didn’t share the same fate as her eyes. She was thinner, her face pale and gaunt, she looked exhausted. The hospital gown looked as if it was wearing her, and not the other way around. And despite all of that, she was still beautiful in his eyes. 

“Hi,” she said in a whispered tone.

He pressed his lips together, choking back the tears that were beginning to form. He couldn’t handle this.

“You look awful,” she teased, which earned a pitiful laugh from him as he wiped the sides of his eyes where tears were moments away from falling. 

She moved to one side of the hospital bed to make room for him. He hesitated for a moment, afraid that he would hurt her some way, but he eventually laid down beside her. Her frail frame clung to him, and he felt the dreadfully familiar feeling of her tears staining his shirt. 

“I’m so scared, Eef,” her use of the enchanting nickname she gave him that he wholeheartedly loved made the tears fall from his eyes as he closed them tightly, holding back a sob.   

He didn’t know what to say, he couldn’t find the right words, so he just hugged her as tightly as he could without hurting her and pressed his lips against her forehead. After all, what were you supposed to say to someone whose life you would trade your own with when they’re dying? 

Was he supposed to lie and say “everything’s going to be okay”? He wouldn’t, he couldn’t bring himself to lie to her any longer after all the wasted time he spent lying about his true feelings. No, he would hold her. He would hold her and love her until he couldn’t love her anymore.

[blankdblank]

Brother Dearest Pt 26

Six notepads full of notes with a stack of typed notes for the subjects were bound up with ample notes you had taken from the countless textbooks you had powered through the week before to try and keep up with the advanced math course you weren’t certain of how you would fare. Trying to over prep so that maybe your Professor might take you seriously, even going so far as to pick up even more advanced math form textbooks from a trunk upstairs that Victor had found for you. Catching onto your doubts the brothers sat up with you on your sleepless nights guiding you through the process of the equations and formulas that in their rainy and winter seasons at home they mastered on their own.

Self taught in so many of their own subjects and languages, taking great pride at how hard you were working. Not a month past having to deal with your first voting season back home being abruptly cut short as a technicality barred unwed women to vote and even with James named as your fiancé and Eddie as former guardian you were turned away. One low blow after another, refused the vote you dealt with a man you nearly hurled off your front stoop demanding to meet the owner of the house wanting to sell something. An hour he spent on the stoop after you slammed the door in his face and neighbors told him that the men were inside and they weren’t going to speak to him after he’d made you angry.

So around you they sat wishing they could do more other than say they would take you to vote the hell out of the next year. Even just small matters of schools and town hall meetings you were silenced until you were married with certain common items in shops refused to women as well and no doubt would have to scrape for any fair chance in the male dominated courses. Sleeplessly however between Victor’s readying of the roast to slowly cook on low you changed to head to Mass. Eagerly the Father hoped that supper would come sooner as he had been boasting on the exclusive invite.

Using a diagram from a book you lined up the table luring smirks from Eddie and James who peeked in at you. Dawn strolled in with a vase in one hand she settled in the center of the table with a selection of short purple and orange flowers from the bushes out back she fluffed up a bit saying, “Best I could do.”

Smiling at her you said, “They’re lovely.”

Looking you over she said, “Up for some liquid courage?”

Shaking your head you said, “With my metal control alcohol and pain medicines wear off within moments in my bloodstream.”

“Oh,”

“Feel free to have a nip if you like.”

Curiously she asked as Victor and James came to set rolls on the table with butter and the salt and pepper shakers, “What else can you two do?” They smirked looking at her adding, “I know what they can do, to a degree. People in town said you were, a bit, odd, but they never clarified. And you can talk to animals and trees…”

Victor said, “Well, we have healing abilities, like hers but without the metal. On top of the talking my nails grow and Jimmy has bone claws.”

Dawn asked, “Bone-?”

James made a fist with his claws extending drawing her closer and accepting his offer to poke at his claws with clear flecks of iron imbedded in them. “They used to be all bone but Jaqi found a way to leech iron from our blood into our bones to make them stronger. Used to be so easy to break our bones when we fought.”

She looked to Victor who said, “Oh, we’re also really strong and really fast compared to others. Much easier with the iron bones, and since it’s our own iron our bodies created our bodies don’t try to get rid of it.” Releasing his hand she moved to Victor who extended his nails making her brow inch up and him chuckle, “I know, not as impressive, but if I grow them long enough I can snap them off and throw them really far.”

Loud and clear the doorbell rang and Eddie said, “I’ll get it.” Watching as Victor retracted his claws and Dawn went to help you finish readying the tea set.

Dawn patted your hand saying, “You’ll do lovely.” Teddy began to fuss in his playpen and she hurried over, “Oh, does someone need a changing?”

Nipping at your lip you hovered the tea tray into the tea room and centered it onto the table adjusting the tea cups before straightening up and brushing your hands over your skirt. Behind you James came up untying your apron planting a kiss onto your cheek, whispering to you sweetly, “I love you, breathe Darling.”

Steps echoed and a quick kiss was stolen in a glance back at him before his winking step back to put your apron up in the kitchen. Victor came out content that the food was staying warm in the oven for the drinks before dinner. Warm greetings came after a quick tour of the main floor including the library earning a whistle from the impressed Priest. Into the tea room he strode smiling taking in the details and looked to you ask you asked, “Would you care for some tea?”

Father Thomas replied, “No, however I would take a nip of brandy, if you have it.”

Eddie flashed you a wink hurrying to the bar having stocked it and broke out the glasses, of which he poured himself a bourbon and a gin for Victor. Dawn smiled returning with Teddy on her hip to sit beside Eddie who took his son to cuddle with on his lap granting her hold of the tea you poured out for her. James hummed as the Father sampled his brandy, “I’ll take a cup, Darling.” Smiling at you lovingly as you poured it making sure to brush your fingers in accepting it. Your tea was next and after adding a pair of sugar cubes to your tea you gracefully held stepping to your seat beside James once lowered into signaled the crossing of your ankles tilting your knees to lay against is thigh. A single sip however had your mind tapping James’ to ask, “How is the tea?”

James, “Not bad. Fairly strong.”

“I think it needs something.”

“Perhaps honey?”

“Honey is so expensive here. The sugar was absurd enough.”

“I will write to Dot back home for some of her uncle’s honey.”

Pleasant conversation lasted through to the bottom of your cups signaling your move to the dining room where Father Thomas accepted a glass of milk from Dawn to go with the meal you helped Victor and James bring to the table. “Bunny and Dawn, you have outdone yourselves, truly.”

Subtle shakes of heads at Victor and James had you both smiling at him in return while you poured yourself some milk as well after bringing James his juice he had asked for. Eddie kept his bourbon to sip on and Dawn fed Teddy in his high chair. Pleasantly the meal continued, pausing for Dawn to take Teddy to sleep in his nursery, rejoining in time for some pie that you skipped on, helped by Eddie to clear the table and brew up some more tea for yourself and James. Victor finishing his own second slice of pie watched as you came back to share a bowl of ice cream with James to go with the one you brought Dawn.

Dinner had come early leaving tons of time for cards, which downstairs Victor and James lit up cigars while the Priest indulged on his weekly cigarette to a cup of coffee he had asked for that you gladly filled his formerly ignored teacup with. Their game came in your friendly match against Dawn in pool while Eddie played Dealer to the card game. A subtle glance to the window in the back yard helped you ease open the window to air out the basement aided by a fan in the corner you kept spinning without having to turn it on. The ventilation pleasing Dawn as well, who you shared hushed giggles and conversation with in French about the guys and their moneyless chipped game to simply help the Priest keep track of who had won each round. The phone ringing upstairs had you going up to answer the call sending you back down to lock eyes with the Priest whose brows were raised, “Father, that was Dennis Tilby on the line, his dad’s taken a turn.”

Instantly he popped up saying, “Right, well, thank you for the lovely time.”

Putting his cigarette out in the ash tray beside him nodding his head to Victor and Eddie as James said, “I’ll show you up.”

Passing you Father Thomas said with a pat of a hand on your arm, “You have worked wonders on this place. Haven’t had a home cooked meal like that in a good while, quite a kindness.” He patted Dawn’s as well adding, “Should last me well through the night and into the morrow.”

Exhaling sharply when he was out of sight you sat down on a stool against the wall making Victor smirk gathering the cups he downed and stacked to carry along with the put out cigars and cigarette saying, “I’ll put the ash tray outside. You did wonderful.”

Lifting your hands you tried to take the cups he eased out of your reach, “I’ll-,”

“Take a load off. Quite a meal.” Your head tilted and he smiled wider, “I don’t want credit. Women like you can cook like that, that’s something, we know how to cook like that and aren’t pro’s, just sad. I would rather be the man behind the curtain Miss Oz.” he passed you two and went upstairs while you sat stealing a glance at Dawn who was racking up the balls again for the next person who would play.

Rapidly the fan you hovered around the room cleared the smoke out amusing Dawn who put up the cards and chips then joined you when you had set the fan down and closed the window again. Together you went up the steps shutting the lights off as you did finding James on his way from locking up the front doors. “That went swimmingly.” Once at your side he lifted you up in his arms, “And you, my Darling, off your feet.”

Victor, out of the kitchen said, “Cups are rinsed, plates too, and the dishes are soaking so you guys go to bed.”

Dawn, “You cooked.”

Victor said, “And I clean as well. Eddie’s got work early and he needs you, Olive and Pepper are outside handling their business so I have some time. Jimmy, off to bed.”

The younger brother chuckled obliging the order to take you upstairs, help you wash up, change and lay out for another of his snuggle followed full body rub downs. Victor grinned returning your finger wave on the path to the stairs truly glad he helped blow your first dinner guest away hopefully helping to boost your confidence at being a hostess in your own home for future guests.

“You’re both absurd.” You said in a nightgown on the bed while he rubbed your feet looking to you adoringly. “Making dinner, giving us credit, then he washes up alone.”

James, “We love you, you hosted marvelously.”

“There was something about the tea.”

“It was great tea, might just be the sugar, you haven’t tried it with regular sugar. I’ll fetch some tomorrow and we can test it out.”

You sighed saying, “It shouldn’t be this hard. Just tea.”

He chuckled again, “Sugar was rationed, right? Through the war and before?” You nodded and he said, “Could just be an old batch, or could be a stronger grain in the cubes to make it stick, or some syrup. Trust me, you have un-cubed sugar no one will fault you for it. The service alone you gave was perfect, you will find your groove for it, and when you are at school all day and hosting dinner parties to a meal like that we’ve prepped for you no one could hold a candle to you.”

“But, that’s cheating.”

He chuckled, “You really think any of those hoity toity ladies who thumbed their noses up at Portia doesn’t have a maid or cook at home to prep their meals for them? Moving up takes impressions and impressions take team work. You helped serve and clear the tea, serve the dinner it’s only fair me and Vic clear up after you had to air out the basement. We can cut back if it bothers you.”

You shook your head, “I don’t mind you smoking, I just don’t want it lingering, ruins wallpaper. We just put it up.”

He chuckled saying, “I get that. And we will keep it away from Teddy, Squishy’s genes or not, smoky room is no place for a baby.”

“Thank you. Nobody says anything but I’ve read up about lungs, Steve had asthma, I thought maybe I could find something someday to help him. I got tangled up in reading about house fires and smoke inhalation and tobacco isn’t that different when inhaled. It has to do something. Our lungs heal, or I might push you to quit-,”

“If it makes you uncomfortable I will.” Your lips parted and he said, “Think on it, if you want me to, I will, and we will ban smoking from the house.”

“You give me too much power sometimes.”

That had him smirking and humming back, “Nowhere close to enough, Darling.”

“Do I have anything I do you want me to stop?”

“Not a thing.” He wet his lips moving his hands to over your ankle asking, “Though Vic was wondering why you didn’t want any of the pie?”

“I think it was the tea, or the sugar. Something about it mixed with the sauce, which was amazing, but when I smelled the pie I just knew it would taste bitter when I ate it.”

Lowly he chuckled and said, “Good, then I can calm him down saying you will have some at lunch.”

In a giggle you replied, “I didn’t mean to upset him.”

“You didn’t. Just was worried you might have been overly anxious about our guest enjoying himself.” He looked you over, “We’ll find your stride.”

You nodded and said, “What sort of college starts on a Tuesday?”

He chuckled saying, “The sort that doesn’t know what’s coming for it.”

A knock at your door announced Victor’s peek through it to ask, “Up for guests?”

James nodded, “Didn’t think it’d take you this long to show up.”

Behind his back he held something wrapped up crossing the room making you say, “I knew you couldn’t resist hiding something from me.”

The pair of them smirked at you playfully and Victor said once seated by James on the bed, “Not much flair to offer for students, we were left to belts in our day. However we are not sending you out Pipsqueak with a belt.” Onto your lap he set the box you smirked as he said, “Not the flashiest, but it’s one of a kind.”

Pulling back the wrapping paper you lifted the top of the box and smiled at the carpet bag styled purse with a red based pattern and leather accents and handles at the top. James, “More of a purse but you can fit your notepads in it, maybe a book or two so you won’t lose your loose papers.”

“Come here,” you said setting it down making them smile as Victor came closer accepting your first tight sniffle filled hug. “You didn’t have to do this, you’ve spent so much on me already.”

James, “Says who?” You pulled back in his own scoot forward setting your leg down again to fold you into a tight hug, “Not nearly enough, Darling. You deserve so much more.”

Victor, “And you just watch those ladies show up with carpet bags in a week. All hideous and out of fashion no doubt compared to yours. No one compares.”

James planted a kiss on your lips sweetly and pulled back to rub your leg again, “We’re all here for you, Darling. Anything you need let us know.”

“What about what you two need?”

Victor, “We need you to succeed.”

James, “And be safe and happy.”

“You two still need something.”

James, “You’re already giving us everything we could ever want.”

.

A short sleeved peach blouse tucked into a black skirt was joined by your black heels and a cardigan you added on your way out of the kitchen. Eddie also was on his way out and James joined Victor in pecking Teddy’s forehead around where you had mid hug to Dawn who wished you luck. James had your bag and Victor said, “Deep breath, let’s get you to school.” Out the front door you walked petting Whiskers, Olive and Pepper on the way, each of them curious about why today seemed different than other times you had left. The doors were shut behind you and down the steps you found your way to the station.

From bustling train car and out of the station two hands remained on your back keeping other men stealing glances your way far away from trying to approach you. Even on the third time out there the ride seemed so familiar already, just half an hour still you took the ride to relax exiting in the sun rising. Not far from there the school was surrounded already by lines of students heading for the big opening. With a peck on your cheek James said outside the front gates, “We’ll be here to walk you back.”

“You are not walking around all day.”

Victor chuckled, “We have plans. To keep busy, promise.” With a nod you stepped out to pass through the gates joining the others on foot, those mainly men while the females rode in lines of cars with bikes no doubt to keep them mobile on the campus from their dorms. The brothers watching on until you were out of sight sighed and turned to head back again planning on taking Olive and Pepper for a walk to the nearest park.

Curious glances your way in breaking off came at a quickening of your pace to pass between two stopped cars to the next walkway leading to the main entrance of Barnard. Seeing you walking a few ladies chose to be let out here and walk themselves, mainly those not moving into the dorms choosing to seem more independent as you did. Poised and walking alone one more opening ceremony came for those absurdly early like you, the Professors split allowing you through. Hall after hall each turn found you outside your first class, against the wall you stood waiting with fingers fixed on the handles of your bag. Soft taps echoed announcing your arriving Professor who smiled and unlocked her door allowing you and the trio of young ladies lined up behind you straightening up as well to claim your seats.

Off to the side of the far wall in the final two rows of seating you walked inspecting the few titles on the shelves against the wall and the odd poster every few feet on the wall to claim the second seat in. On top of your lap your bag settled and in crossing your ankles one of your notepads and a pen was added to the desk along with the textbook for this class out of the few books not able to fit in your bag left on the side of your desk. Steadily more students began to trickle in and elegantly in cursive across the board the Professor wrote her name and the title of her first lesson.

Right away she delved her opening speech saying, “Welcome Ladies, to the start of your higher education. For the first task,” she held a stack of papers and passed it to the woman in front of you, “Take one of these and pass it back,” doing the same in each row, “This is a contract, of basic requirements for this class. Weekly there will be a quiz, bi-weekly there will be a paper due. Between those there will be expected visits to museums that I would like you to take full advantage of and pay attention because there will be a paper due on the exhibit you choose as well, I will be expecting ticket stubs to prove that you have gone with your papers.” Following along on the page she said, “You are allowed two absences in my course before I start reducing points on each test and quiz after your third absence. I expect a B average, if you dip below a B then you are granted one test to try and lift your grade up before I will remove you from my course myself. This is just one semester Ladies, rise to the challenge or have yourself traded to Miss Margen’s course which is far less stringent.”

For a history course it was rather strict and you couldn’t help but smirk internally in listening to the list go on with details of what heading she expected on each paper that you copied down in your notes. Following the lesson along when she actually began the start of her year, unknown to you while you continued to focus on your notes her eyes kept shifting to you, the only woman to not look up except for when she wrote on the board. It was an old habit to focus on the work and not draw attention to yourself like you did back in high school. Already having asked four other students questions that turned into mini debates crumbling as they couldn’t give her the book proof she was expecting.

“You, second seat back, your opinions on the gold rush?” Her eyes fixed on yours when you glanced up had her looking you over as you shifted your pen between your fingers.

“In what aspect? The travel, those who took it up, the effects on the spread of cities West and South, or the changes to clothing and social standards shifting from Colonial to a Rural environment. Unless you mean the effects of medicine limitations and the effects it had on the lives and funeral industry until the railroad was settled and granted a modicum of ease in stabilizing town populations?” Her brow inched up and you said, “Economically it was a risk, but fools who dream big change the world. Case in point there is hardly any patch of land in this country that hasn’t been explored or attempted to have been settled in. Even if the territory is eventually found inhospitable to human life. In full the Gold Rush sparked a rise in several aspects, both positive and those increasing in less noble topics.”

“Such as?”

“Crime, for one, and the beginning of the discovery of the profiteering of the funeral business.”

In a scoff she asked, “And just what experience would you have of the profiteering of the funeral business?”

Looking at her flatly you replied, “I buried both of my parents before I was thirteen,” her smirk dimmed as you added, “Then I lost my brother in the war. Every cent my mother had saved up went to paying off her funeral and we still owed hundreds. My brother was buried easier because the military paid for it. You shouldn’t have to go down in a plane to not bankrupt your family who wants to lay you to rest.”

Clearing her throat she got back to the lesson while you glanced down again to delve back into taking notes ignoring what you knew to be pitying stares had you glanced around to the other ladies trying to remain calm at their own open wounds of those lost in the war. Right back to the same pattern of calling students out the lesson continued and you were nearly forgotten when class was called and you all stood to head to your next class. One by one you passed her the signed contracts and with a soft grin from you she accepted yours, stealing a glance in your turn away to read your signature at the bottom parting her lips recognizing your name. Hushed comments of support came from your fellow students in the hall who split heading to their own classes while you hurried to get there to have a choice on your seat.

Italian came next and near to the front you sat across the hall from your Latin class. The middle aged Professor straightening a pin in her nest of a bun littered with hints of grey matching the color of her dress and shoes flashed you a grin watching you sit in the second row along the wall then turned to erase part of what was written on the board. Not quite as strict, but no less dedicated to ensuring each student gave their all gave the instruction that for the second semester there would be no speaking in English at all.

A sentiment copied by the Latin Professor in the class right after this one who seemed to enjoy getting to be friendly with his students right away. “Miss Pear, I was intrigued to hear you were taking my course. Might I ask why?”

Looking up from your notes you had copied from a rule in pronunciation he had given you caught his grin tugging wider as you answered, “One of the last books my Dad gave me was a dictionary on Latin. My high school didn’t allow females in their Latin course.”

“And what a shame that is,” he said turning to his board to write another tip out. “One of the main things you have to know is that we won’t just be learning how to read and write it but how to speak it, how to breathe some life into what some deem a dead language.” All class he tried to build up some passion in each of his students and by his challenging grin it seemed you were added to the list of students harder to break out of their focused shell.

Pt 27

[hamonsurveysoverdrive]

Porous

Have you ever experienced an earthquake? Nope. Has anyone ever tried stealing your boyfriend/girlfriend away? Probably? If you were in the hospital, do you think any of your exes would come see you? Drew probably would. Would you rather read an entire encyclopedia or an entire dictionary? Encyclopedia. Do you think you could have a relationship with the last person you texted? We are in a relationship. Do you sleep with your closet door open or closed? Open. Do you know your social security by heart? Yes. Have you ever kissed someone you weren’t in a relationship with? Yes. Who do you hang around with at school? N/a Would you enjoy sharing a bed with someone every night? If it was Justin, yes. What do you have in common with the last person you kissed? We're both intelligent, impatient, and funny. What were you doing an hour ago? Napping lol Are you doing anything important tomorrow? Not particularly. Have you taken any illegal drugs lately? No. Do you like your phone? Yeah. Would you move out your house if you could right now? Yes. Can you whistle? No. When is the last time you slept in someone else’s bed? Saturday. Do you like being called baby? Only by Justin. Would you rather drink orange juice or milk? OJ. Do you hate when people interrupt your sleep? Of course. Have you ever slept in the same bed of the opposite sex? Yes. When shopping at a grocery store, do you return the cart? Yes. Do you think you would survive in the wilderness if you were abandoned there? Probably not. Are there any movies in theaters that you want to see? Not until Mortal Kombat comes out. Do you miss the way things used to be between you and someone else? No. If you had a child at the age you’re at now, do you think you’d be a good parent? I already have kids. Is there someone in the world you wish would just disappear completely? Nah. Honestly, if your boyfriend/girlfriend went through your phone right now, would they get mad? No. Do you eat your Oreos with milk? I barely even eat Oreos and I never drink milk. Have you ever wished upon a star? Yes. Do you think French kissing is gross? lol No, but I think the term "French kissing" is gross What is the last thing someone bought for you? Cigarettes. Do you like to be out with friends or stay at home? Depends on the day. When was the last time you ate one of your favourite foods? Idk. Are you hungry? Craving any food in particular? I'm in the middle of eating right now. Is there anyone you have issues with atm? If so, have you talked to them about it? Nah. Are you wearing make-up? What brand(s)? No. Are you wearing perfume? What kind? No. The last male you spoke to…is he attractive? It's my dad, so not to me lol Is there a dictionary on your bookshelf? No. Anyone else in the room besides you? No. Do you have any pet names for the person you love/like? We just call each other babe. What was the last thing you bought for yourself? Perfume. Do you/did you go to any after school clubs? No. Is there anything bothering you, that you haven’t told anyone about? I don't think so. Do you like wearing the opposite sex’s clothes? Sometimes, but not habitually.

[nancythebisexualslutwheeler]

Reddie Tutor!AU

So what if we do a tutor!Eddie AU, where everything is #normal, it’s just shitty, normal HS. So Eddie is a junior and he’s on the track team and he’s little but his speed makes up for it.

He’s smart as hell, for real. In all AP classes and honors. I mean in math they only offer AP Calc as the highest option- which is what you need to pass twelfth grade. It’s not hard, even though it’s AP, the school just needed the extra funding. In Derry, everyone needed extra money.

So he’s smart and does track and that’s about all his mom allows him to do. She barely allows track, but the insurance money from his dad’s death is running out and words like scouts and scholarships made their mark. She never left the house of course, so it was nice for him to be able to have something to himself. It had taken a lot of convincing, but finally it was his. And then his principal who’d wanted him to apply to their student council and run for class president and more things that Eddie’s mother wouldn’t allow him to do, asks him to be a tutor. He will need to dedicate one afternoon after school and his Saturday mornings. He only has two friends, Bev and Ben, who are dating each other, so no one is too worried about him. Not all the time at least. (That’s mean. They’re good friends, he’s just bitter.)

He accepts the job without even asking who he’s tutoring. Mainly because tutoring means they’d have to have a chance of passing the class. Richie Tozier does not have a chance in hell at passing the class.

Cue mean girls style montage... let me tell you about Richie Tozier. He’s a dick. He’s cocky and rude and dirty and he’s 19 and this will be his second go at his senior year. So no, he has no chance of passing.

He can’t very well say no after he’s said yes so on Wednesday afternoon, he’s in the library, in the back corner, to avoid being seen caught dead with the loser, when Richie shows up.

Yadayada when Richie sees him he has a field day.

But eventually the two find an uneasy relationship.

So I’m here for when:

***

Richie gets a D on his first test because it’s not an F!!!! And he pats Eddie so hard on the shoulder he’s sure he’ll have a bruise.

***

One day Richie is staring at Eddie. His legs more precisely.

“What are you wearing?”

“Track shorts,” he holds a leg out. It’s obvious. They’re purple.

Richie rolls his eyes,

“No shit.”

“Why?”

“Practice after this.”

He nods...

“Um, what kind of-“

“Track.”

“Oh no shit.”

“You run?”

He snorts,

“I only run from cops.”

                                             ***

  “Hey I can’t meet on Saturday this week.”  

“Why?” Richie demands. He looks a bit frantic, their test is on Monday. But Eddie also knows it probably has to do with the way Richie put his hand on Eddie’s leg as he drove them home. Eddie had reassured him with a small smile, but he figured the older boy still needed validation.

“I’ve got a meet.”

Richie raises an eyebrow,

“Yeah,” Eddie itches the back of his head.

“Where?”

“Gravesville.”

“Oh.”

“I have one on Friday night too though. Here.”

And Richie makes some dumb excuse about being busy and yet on. Friday night he’s out there. Well, at the bottom of the bleachers right before the fence and he watches Eddie and smokes a cigarette.

And Eddie is so shook and ends up running over to him after like wtf? And Richie’s wearing a leather JACKET and they lean against the fence and chat and Richie lights a cigarette and Eddie can’t take his eyes off of his mouth and then Richie offers him some and Eddie’s like ... ahhh.. but then does and chokes and Richie’s like alright my innocent bon bon, none for you.

                                                          ***

Then Richie starts bringing them coffee on Saturday’s. He’s got a new job. He always makes Eddie’s coffee perfectly. Like he’s memorized it or something. A hazelnut vanilla latte with less oat milk (he’s lactose intolerant) than espresso and three sugars. Sue him, he likes his coffee sweet.

Richie is vegan. Eddie about falls over when he starts talking about the environment and passionately. The mistreatment of people of color comes up and the fact those words just came out of stoner Richie Tozier’s  mouth is making him rethink everything he knew about the world.

                                                           ***

Richie fucking lifts weights which wouldn’t be a problem if he arms weren’t so fucking buff.

                                                       ***

Okay the thing is Eddie knows he shouldn’t like Richie, but’s he’s just so damn attractive that it’s hard. His dark hair and beaming blue eyes and ridiculous glasses that happen to work for him. He has a goddamn hoop nose ring and he’s always biting at his chapped lips. He has a chest tattoo (Eddie has only seen what pokes out of the too tight, stretched out necks of his t shirts. He wears assorted band tees or white T-shirts that ride up when he stretches his arms over his head and shoves off the treasure trail that Eddie wants to lick.

So anyway the first time Richie takes off the flannel he’s wearing over a T-shirt, Eddie balks at the artfully decorated tree on his arm. It’s an elegant oak tree with autumn leaves adorning the branches. It’s... exquisite, and before Eddie can help himself, he’s reaching out to touch it. He stops himself before he does and when he looks up, Richie is smiling at him. He offers his arm and Eddie traces the tree,

“It's beautiful.”

“Well thanks Eddie spaghetti,” he says.

Eddie realizes he’s still touching his arm and quickly pulls away.

                                                      ***

It only takes a few times of mentioning his mom before Richie asks. Richie is trying to offer to drive him home after a study session runs late and it’s dark.

“You’re not walking home.”

“It’s fine, I promise.”

“You scared of my driving skills?” Richie swings his keys around his index finger.

“No, I mean yes, of course, but my mom’ll flip.”

“You say that a lot. What’s her deal?”

Eddie pales,

“Nothing. Just overprotective.”

They head to the door, Richie still insisting on a ride, and when they step out into the chilly fall air, Eddie wraps his windbreaker around himself tighter and then Richie offers again, knowingly.

“You have to drop me off around the corner.”

Richie looks at him curiously and then nods,

“Of course. Can’t have mom seeing you with big bad huh?”

“Yeah, you’re not meeting the parents material, huh?”

“That’s what they tell me,” he shrugs, “As long as they let me sneak into their bedroom.”

Eddie makes a face. Girl’s rooms.

***

One Saturday Richie doesn’t show up. He thought they were over this, Richie ditching. He hadn’t even texted. So Eddie is annoyed. No pissed. Because it’s 8am and Richie isn’t even there to give him a coffee. So he calls because he’s fuming.

Richie sounds like shit,

“Hello? Eddie? Wait. What day is it? Fuck. Eddie I am so sorry. I’m sick as fuck.”

Speaking of which, Eddie doesn’t remember seeing him in class on Thursday.

“You couldn’t call? Text?”

“Bro, I’ve been in bed for days. I’m about to die of dehydration, my parents are out of town and I can barely manage to get out of bed to pee so no, I couldn’t text.”

Eddie pauses. Hesitates. He does it to be nice. That’s all.

“What’s your address? I can bring you a few things.”

“That’s unnecessary.”

“I’m not, I’m not taking a no for an answer.”

Eddie buys too much but he can’t stop himself. About three kinds of cold and flu meds, Tylenol, cough syrup, OJ and sprite and saltines. A couple of magazines. He’s pathetic.

Richie answers the door looking like death and Eddie is Lowkey in love because he looks like a muffin. (A very sick muffin) but a muffin nevertheless.

                                                         ***

Richie returns the favor by inviting Eddie over for a movie and pizza night. He thinks about it because they’re not friends. But Richie seems sincere and he did take care of Richie. He’d changed his bed sheets and everything. They haven’t mentioned it.

So Richie’s house is nice and he has a thirteen year old sister who is way cooler than Eddie was at 13. Anyway Richie orders pizza and he orders Eddie a regular pizza but he wants to try Richie’s because it looks good. And he does and it’s good and Richie just grins and turns on some dumb Netflix movie.

They absolutely do not cuddle, but Eddie sits a touch closer than he needs to and Richie’s arm ends up draped behind him on the couch and it’s nice and goddammit, Eddie is gay for Richie Tozier.

                                                      ***

Richie never seems to tire of him, or make any move to stop their tutoring sessions even when he gets a B on their latest test.

                                                   ***

One day it’s raining and Richie is sitting across from him and parts of his white shirt are see through. And his chest is hairy and Eddie is in to it.

                                               ***

Richie’s birthday comes and goes and Eddie brings him a single German chocolate cupcake complete in a container and everything.

Richie doesn’t stop absolutely beaming. He eats the whole thing and fawns over Eddie.

“It was so good. Best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth,” he says with a wink.

“Richie,” he complains.

“Scouts honor,” he salutes, “the very best.”

“Gross!”

                                                       ***

So idk what happens but somehow they’re alone together, maybe in like a bedroom. Richie’s got his big hands open in his lap, palm up, and Eddie is firmly pressed against him and Eddie nudges Richie,

“You’re a lot cooler than I thought you’d be.”

“Aww, you too Eddie spaghetti.”

“Puh-lease fuck off.”

“Never.”

Eddie nudges him,

“Promise?”

Richie looks down at him then,

“Promise.”

Eddie stares at him and licks his lips.

Richie leans down slowly, giving Eddie plenty of time to move away. He doesn’t.

[jacquelinep21]

(I wrote this email to my grandmother, aunt, and uncle last week and felt pretty good with how it turned out so decided to publish it here.) 

Friday, May 1st, 2020

Coucou !

I’ve been wanting to write you for a while now, I even started a draft and wrote about ¾’s of it, had to stop to make dinner, and then never finished it. Maybe I was overthinking how I wanted to get the writing perfect when I should’ve just sent something to say hello, give you an update, and check-in that all was well with you. Mieux vaut tard que jamais.

How to describe everything and nothing that has happened since mid-March? Both on a personal level and on a “what’s the situation in France” level?

Personally, I’ve been cooking, both familiar recipes, and trying new ones such as Chickpea Curry, Mushroom-Stuffed Eggplant, One-Pan Wine Braised Chicken with Artichoke Hearts, Shakshuka, Spanish Tortilla, Roasted Red Pepper Cheese Toast, Peanut Butter Chile Sauce drizzled over broccoli and rice, Butternut Squash & Shallot Hash w/Poached Eggs, and a couple others. Let me admit, some were successes, others...will have to be adjusted and reattempted. Not to mention there are days when not having a dishwasher gets to be exhausting.

I still have multiple school projects that I have been working on, both group and individual. My classes were already supposed to end mid-April even before this all started, so it didn’t change much and most classes didn’t have any online classes, as the projects were more important and already put in place. I have three more to turn in before grades are due mid-May, and now the first part of my thesis is due one month later, at the end of June. Productivity has been difficult, as there are days that I feel like I need to do things for me, rather than sitting on my computer switching between reading the news and trying to do school work, but I’ve gotten a little better at it. My job, checking guests into apartments, and working in the office, is obviously non-existent, and likely will be until at least September, but because of the government's chômage partiel or temporary/partial unemployment of over 10 million people in France, I’m still getting 90% of my salary, which I am very thankful for.

What I have been doing for pleasure these days is listening to podcasts, my favorite being Spilled Milk, which I discovered in September when I was doing the grape harvest, a comedy show about food recorded in Seattle. I was taking a photograph or two a day with my dad’s 1984 Minolta 35mm film camera but ran out of film and can’t find a viable way to get more. I’ve been reading every day, finished two books so far, and have started a third. We’ve been watching movies and TV shows, such as Breaking Bad, the Jason Bourne trilogies, Charade, Star Wars, and others I’ve put off watching until now. Something I never thought I would do was a virtual dance/fitness classes but they have been a great source of dopamine and just physical movement. There are also weekly video chats with either Benjamin or I’s friends, which has been especially nice when we can reunite multiple time zones all in one call. My friend that works at Politico’s audio department asked if I’d be interested in recording an audio-diary twice a week as part of a project they’re working on of different people’s experiences during lockdown so I’ve been contributing to that (though not sure what’s become of the project so far). The most coincidental thing that has happened to me during confinement is changing the channel on the TV maybe the second week into the lockdown, as the Prime Minister’s press conference was ending (otherwise we hardly ever watch the TV), to a different channel only to see someone that looked vaguely familiar, and then see the street we live on. We soon figured out the people across the street we had seen filming once or twice were making a documentary on the lockdown. I contacted them after we finished watching the episode and they asked if I was interested in being interviewed. So that happened, haha. I don’t believe it’s possible to stream the episode outside of Europe so I’ve included the video here, it’s in English.

There are of course the daily musings outside the window to see what the neighbors across the street are doing or what is happening on the street below. Avenue de Saint-Ouen has calmed since this all began but it still is busier than I would’ve expected, both with cars and people, not resembling photos you may have seen of an eerily empty Paris. Sundays are the exception, when I can almost clearly hear what someone is saying on their balcony across the way, where the joggers' loud steps hitting the pavement echoes as they try to reach home before their 10am curfew, and the church bells ring telling us the time. The typical characters I can see on their balconies every day include the bald man that drinks his cup of coffee while smoking his morning cigarette, the retired man on the top floor that tends to his potted herbs that dangle over the balcony railing, or his neighbors that have two young boys that run back and forth. The weather has been clearer than any Parisian spring I’ve seen and the temperatures even got to the high 70’s last week but have now dropped and the clouds are back. We are allowed to walk for up to one hour within a 1km radius of our address, as long as we have a form, now available to download on our phones, filled out, otherwise there can be fines, though I have only seen police officers stop people twice.

So what is the situation in France right now? As of Thursday night, 24,376 people have died from Covid-19 in France, 26,283 people are currently hospitalized (551 less than the day before) and 4,019 are in the ICU (188 less than the day before). On May 11th, the lockdown will be lifted to a certain extent, but many restrictions will still be in place. Starting May 7th each département, kind of like a county, will either be classified red or green, depending on multiple factors, and this can change the severity of the rules after May 11th. Preschools, elementary schools, and daycares can reopen, on a voluntary basis by each family, so those in need that cannot do online learning and depend on the meals can return to school under certain hygiene measures. Public transportation will increase slightly but not back to the normal frequency, masks will be obligatory, every other seat must be left empty, employeurs are encouraged the adjust hours of employees that have to return to work to avoid rush hour, and that those not commuting to and from work should avoid public transportation during these hours. We will be able to leave the house without filling out a form, as long as it’s less than 100km from our address. Farther than this (62 miles) we will need to have a legitimate reason, such as professional or imperative family needs. No meetings, private or public, of more than ten people. Individual sports any time of day (currently in Paris jogging isn’t permitted between 10am and 7pm) but no team sports. Libraries and small museums may reopen while abiding by hygiene procedures. Parks may reopen but if considered dangerous, such as in Paris, they may remain closed. Most businesses can reopen, except restaurants, bars, cafés, large museums, movie theaters, concert venues, or theaters, while controlling the number of people in the business and customers may be turned away if they aren’t wearing a mask. Farmers markets may reopen as well. Malls may or may not reopen, depending on their size. Working from home is still strongly encouraged. The government hopes to test 700,000 people a week, though who can get tested isn’t clear. If you test positive you must self isolate for 14 days either at your residence or an allocated hotel, and teams of people will attempt to get in contact with those who may have been infected by said persons to get tested. An app is also in development to track this but is also highly controversial and will have to be voted on by parliament. Masks will be distributed by employeurs, by schools, to nonprofits for those in need, social action centers, and La Poste has set up a website where they can be bought, the government paying for part of the costs. The second phase in which things could change is June 2nd.

Voilà, I think that’s everything. I would love to hear from you when you can write back. Miss you and thinking of you.

Love,

Melissa

P.S. Some recent Articles/Blogs/Newsletters/Podcasts that are Paris related:

David Lebovitz's May 2020 Newsletter

When Cookies Fly and Other Tales of Staying Entertained During Quarantine

Lettre Recommandé: Notes from France by Lauren Collins

Podcast: Documenting confinement in Paris, checking in with the French psyche, May Day history (interview with the couple making the documentary that I was featured in briefly among other interesting things.)

The New Paris Podcast: Paris in Confinement

The Earful Tower Podcast: What does Paris look like in lockdown? (he has recorded several episodes about what has been going on, this is just a more recent one, light-hearted)

The Street That Still Offers Paris Hope

Denuded of Tourists, Paris Reveals Its Old Beating Heart

France 24's English Coverage of the France Lockdown (a great news outlet in English with a more French perspective of whats going on in France with articles and videos)

[hiromisuzukimicrojournal]

A Longer Trip Back Home

...

✽

Hey, have a cigarette?

She always asks me if I have a cigarette when she has emptied the last box. Of course I do not have it, she knows. My mother spends all her wages on cigarettes. My mother, a waitress at a café in the center of a suburban residential area at the edge of the world. In the afternoon, the café is filled with ladies. They are housewives coming from elegant houses at the edge of the world, killing time. Mother and the ladies play mah-jongg every Wednesday at the café, in the center of the town, where the smoke of cigarettes wafts stronger than the scent of coffee.

You must go straight home and study, Mother says, as a mother would.

I always stop by a used record store on my way home from high school. Music is the heart of my mind. Today, my favorite tune, “Running Away,” is playing in the store. The Raincoats’ version, not Sly & The Family Stone’s, which is actually called “Runnin’ Away.” I sing to the music.

Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!

The vinyl collector is smiling wryly.

Delightful tune, but ironical lyrics, he says. I have a 30-year fixed-rate mortgage. I wonder how many more years I have to work. I want to sell this store and get away to San Francisco, the heart of the world. Why? You can see the ocean from the top of the hill. That is all.

His 11-year-old son, strangely mature, enters the conversation while listening near the cash register.

How about your boyfriend? No lover? If you are not in love yet, it is too late. But dad is too young for an affair.

The boy’s eyes twinkle with curiosity. There is a big Himalayan cedar in the back of the record store, and sometimes an owl appears on a branch. When I am staying in the store, forgetting time, I hear the owl tu–whit tu–whoo. A small river flows at the root of the cedar, and there is a small old church on the marsh.

When I was a child, a wedding was held by the side of this river. I was a bridesmaid, and the cedar was decorated like a Christmas tree. The guests carried an enormous red sea bream into the kitchen in preparation for the ceremony. My mother and the vinyl collector’s wife poached the eggs to a beautiful golden colour and boiled four dozen white asparagus as a side dish. On a Swedish glass dish in bas‐relief with dandelions, the butter slowly melted beside the radishes.

Yes. It was spring.

Someone knocked on the door of the kitchen. Ladies in aprons looked around. They thought the knock was the prank of a spring storm. But it was the bridegroom. He rushed to the kitchen sink and turned the tap to gulp down some water. An old woman named Eliza shouted to him from her house across the way.

Too late! The bride has gone somewhere! She is a wayward girl!

Too far! It took a million hours on a bus from Shibuya station! he joked, spouting water from his inflated mouth and soaking his bow tie. He was a chipmunk that came to this marsh on a gondola of chicory leaves.

The bride was beautiful. She was clinging to the cedar, and as she reached out to the star ornaments shining on the branches of the tree, a warm wind teased the hem of her champagne dress. Guests grew excited, little by little. The sky was getting dark. I was crouching alone on the bank of the river at dusk. The chipmunk ran away from the banquet and gave me a leftover chicory leaf like a tiny boat. The boat left my hand. The boat drifted on the river, far away.

Where does this river come from?　I questioned the bridegroom.

A mountain? I do not know. Ha! he answered.

Where does this river go to?

The river reflected the sunset. The chicory boat was floating freely on the water.

The sea? Ah, Tokyo Bay, the Pacific? Ha! Ha!

Tokyo Bay? Little did I know a small river in my small town flows into the infinite ocean. I had never seen the sea.

A girl in a swimsuit with a yellow floral pattern is swimming in a murky pool. Someone beckons her, seduces her. She becomes a little fish and approaches him trembling with fear. No. The girl dives in the ocean for the first time. Not the pool. A blowfish hides at the bottom of the sea. White round blowfish like clouds shine in the sunlight breaking through the faint waves. The blowfish has poison. She keeps swimming in pursuit of poison. A blowfish with white belly inflated does not move. Is he dead? As he opens his eyes slowly, he laughs, showing his teeth.

All of us have a place in history. Mine is in the clouds, he says *[1].

Dad! she cries with joy. Her father died a drunk at fifty years of age. Everyone says it was a slow-motion suicide. No. Certainly, he lives his life at the bottom of the sea, or as the shadow of a cloud floating on the surface of the ocean. There is a Japanese proverb: control poison with poison. Her father was fighting the evil in his mind with his own poison. She remembers his rounded back. Late at night, or on a Sunday afternoon, he headed to his desk with a bottle of Johnnie Walker and read the collection of poems. She cannot remember the titles of foreign books. The poems were written in English or French. The girl begins to swim toward the sun. Petals scattering from her swimsuit shine in the water. Like cherry blossoms dancing in a cloudy sky.

The memory of the wedding at the root of the Himalayan cedar raised for me the riddle of a small river in my small town. I decided to explore the headsprings and the destination of this flow. I bought a 1950s map of Tokyo at Jimbōchō. At the ward office, I found historical documents about Shibuya Ward. The map showed that the source of river was a marsh under the church. One more place. I found a pond on the site of an old mansion, the place I always see on my way to school. No one seemed to live there, and unmanaged trees grew thick behind the high wall. The map said Davies House. Once a British trading merchant lived here. Mr. Davies sold his mansion and returned home in the 1980s. During the Edo period, in the 1600s, it was a pleasure garden called Oyama-en. The garden was not a place for children to play. There were no merry-go-rounds, roller coasters or kiosks selling gelato. It was the place where poets gathered, in the gazebo at the pond. Intellectuals enjoyed tea and spent time meditating.

The gate of the abandoned mansion had been closed for about 40 years. One fine Sunday, I found out that the site of the mansion was open to Shibuya residents, but only for the day. The garden was already full of people strolling with flowers in their hands. The petals shine with droplets, because the night before was rainy. The faces of people are shining with curiosity. Not only the vines of feral trees but also the ferns are crawling at my feet. I have difficulty walking. In the deep green woods, a lacquered bridge is painted a particularly bright shade of red. I stand on the bridge. Under it, spring water bubbles in a dry pond.

A chipmunk of about 12 centimeters fills his cheeks with buds and jumps off the zelkova tree. The chipmunk is eating mock strawberries growing around the pond.

This is cute Fraisier de Duchesne. Mock Strawberry is also called poison strawberry, but it is not poisonous. Try it. Ha! the chipmunk says to me proudly and plays in the pond using the red fruit as a beach ball. The bright red strawberry slips through his fingers and is swallowed by invisible swirls on the water. It disappears into the drain of the pond. There is a river, a culvert, beyond the drain. It was buried in concrete beneath the Metropolitan Area when the Olympics were held in Tokyo in 1964.

Fraisier de Duchesne left itself to the water. Sunlight melted into the Kōhone-River. The water was warm. Kōhone Flowers–East Asian yellow water-lilies–surrounding the river were swaying gently in the wind. Leaves were floating on the surface. Fraisier de Duchesne came out of the darkness in the groundwater and bathed in the sunlight on a leaf. A little boy and his father held hands and passed by Fraisier de Duchesne. They were singing a song.

A small river in spring is flowing smoothly *[2]  

To violets and milk-vetch flowers on the shore

While flowering gently in beautiful colour

Bloom please, bloom, While whispering

Fraisier de Duchesne, pretty in red, has no poison and knows nothing about poison. It will leave itself to the stream of water and time as ever.    

I am standing on Inari-Bridge near the Shibuya Station. All rivers leading to this bridge are culverts. Buildings are towering on both sides of the bridge, a forest of department stores, restaurants, brothels. Shibuya River flows under the bridge. I can see the water with my eyes. The river passes through the downtown. Various people come and go. Various voices are confused with various languages. The clear stream has revived on the Shibuya River before the Tokyo Olympics in 2020. I am moved by the truth that there is a sea called Tokyo Bay, if I will swim about 6.8 kilometers from here. The orange colour of the sun floating on the Shibuya River is the same as it on the nameless small river in my small town. The murmur of a stream whispers.

Shall we run away to the ocean?      

I have forever heard it. The music was played repeatedly on a late-night program on the radio. Maybe it is a melody signaling that a passenger ship is leaving port but is not suitable for departure. Colourful flags on the mast are fluttering in the blue sky. On the surface of the sea, reversed flags shimmer like stained glass. Their shadows are waving to the pulse of engines. I recall that this was my favorite song while looking at the port far away. On my way home, on the bus, I am listening to “Runnin’ Away” on my mobile phone. Sly & The Family Stone’s version, not The Raincoats’, which is anyway called “Running Away.”

San Francisco is too far. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!  

Murmuring aloud, I can see from the window that the huge rain cloud chases the bus. The cloud seems to be as high as Montmartre. The front window of the bus is sprayed with heavy rain and becomes completely white. Lightning and the sudden shower cut off my music. The bus has no choice but to stop at the station square. The smell of rain invades. I hear footsteps of seasonal changes. I know that I was pretending not to notice the change of seasons. A mother and child in the seat across the aisle are talking.

We left our umbrella in grandma’s home, but it will clear up soon.

They are looking at brand new shoes they just bought at the department store. Desert boots which are made of suede. I wonder if they are trying to transport themselves by supernatural force to a desert planet 900 light years from the earth. There is no sea on the other side of the moon. I am thinking of the sea.

Yes. Summer will come soon.

✽

image: hiromi suzuki

…

*Quotations:

[1] The Tokyo-Montana Express, 1980 A collection of short stories by Richard Brautigan

[2] Small River in Spring, 1912 A song for schoolchildren Lyrics: Tatsuyuki Takano Music: Teiichi Okano (Translation: hiromi suzuki) Takano had his residence near the Kōhone-River (Yoyogi 3-chōme Shibuya-Ward, Tokyo) when he wrote the lyrics of Small River in Spring. At that time, Kōhone-River was running as a stream that supplied water to the fields, and joined the Shibuya River.

…

✽  ✽  ✽

A Longer Trip Back Home

© short fiction by hiromi suzuki

published in 3:AM Magazine (February 11, 2020)

 …

 via 3:AM Magazine

✽

I am grateful to have been given this opportunity by Mark de Silva, the Fiction Editor for 3:AM Magazine.

…

[long-bodyswap]

The Relic

Benjamin Michael Monahan, a 37-year-old general contractor, arrived home after a particularly bad day at work at a new construction site. Ben, a big man, stands 6’2” and weighs a solid 200 pounds. He has a burly, muscular body covered in fine brown hair.

He started to tap a cigarette from a pack stashed in his shirt pocket when his son announced dinner was ready.

Ben stared at his 12-year-old son, Brad, a perpetual challenge to a man who sets much store by physical and mental toughness. He surveyed the boy, trying to not make his disapproval too evident.

A skinny kid, Brad stood about 5’3”, weighed only about 100 pounds. He makes good grades, but sometimes Ben wished Brad didn’t lean so far to the nerdy side. He felt some pride in his son’s intelligence, but he knew the kid might have an easier time if he didn’t spent so much time at the books.

He slid the cigarette back into the almost empty pack.

For the moment, Ben only wanted to feel his stomach and put his hard day behind him. After dinner, maybe he could kick back, enjoy a smoke and watch some television.

Brad only wanted to forget the horrible day at school. Not a day goes by without his being picked on by older and bigger kids.

Ben saw that Brad had prepared a meal of chicken and potatoes. He appreciated that Brad didn’t shirk the household duties. Still, he sometimes felt a lingering sense that maybe he shouldn’t push all the domestic duties off on his son.

But, with just the two of them, and with Ben often getting home late from work, Brad preparing meals made perfect sense.

As they eat, Ben noticed Brad kept putting down his fork and picking up an odd piece of jewelry. The object looks like a stone amulet tied around a leather thong.

“What’s that?” Ben asked.

“Oh, it’s an old Indian artifact,” Brad said. “I have to do a report on it for school.”

Ben nodded and reached for his can of beer.

Brad, drinking from a glass of milk, looked toward his dad. “I wish I didn’t have to bother with school. I hate school.”

Ben felt a surge of irritation. He couldn’t help but feel a little upset that Brad has no idea how tough the real world is.

“If you knew what it was like to work a hard job, you’d be thankful for school.”

“Never,” Brad said fervently.

“You just don't know what it is like,” Ben said. “School's a breeze."

“But Dad, I...”

“I don't want to hear any more, Brad,” Ben barked in anger. “Just shut up and eat your dinner.”

“OK...” Brad began, but quickly returned to his basic complaint. “But the kids, Dad, they all pick on me. Just because I'm so short and I have to write a report on this stupid Indian artifact...”

“They pick on you because you have to write a report?” Ben had almost tuned out his son’s whining complaints.

“No, not because of that,” Brad said. I'll bet no one picks on you Dad. You’re such a big, strong guy!”

Ben pushed back his plate and removed a cigarette from the pack. He lit up. "You need to toughen up, Brad," he said after taking his first puff.

“Dad, I'm still a kid...I'm trying...I mean look at this stupid artifact thing...what can I write about it?”

Ben puffed furiously on the cigarette. "That should be the least of your problems,” his voice sounded a little harsh. “Wait until you have to get a job. Then you'll miss writing your little school reports."

Brad picked up the artifact again. “ At least if I were you and had a job I wouldn't have to write stupid reports...”

"You should have to work a job every day like I do," Ben said. He reached and grasped one end of the artifact. "I'd love to have your life again."

At that point, father and son feel a sharp, static shock.

“WHOA Dad...” Brad sounded excited. “Did you feel that?”

“What the hell was that?” Ben asked. He stared at the artifact held in their hands.

“Maybe it was this stupid artifact, Dad,” Brad said. “You think?”

“It's just some old relic, Brad,” Ben said. He kept puffing on his cigarette.

“You sure, Dad? Cause that felt really weird...”

Ben grunted in disgust. “To be honest, I'd think your school could teach you something more important,” he said in a tone of aggravation.

“Like what Dad?”

“Like...what you'll need to know in the real world.”

“What kind of things, Dad?”

“Jesus, Brad! You've got a lot to learn. Take my word for it.” His cigarette is failing to calm him down. That static shock did leave him jittery, he realized.

“Why do you need to smoke, Dad?” Brad asked, changing the topic.

“Uh...I just need it... to relax. It helps me unwind,” Ben said. He didn’t know why he had trouble giving an answer. But, after enjoying his supper after a long day, there was nothing he enjoyed more than puffing on a cigarette or, better yet, a cigar.

He took a long drag and noticed that he isn't exhaling it.

However, when Brad responded with another question, the smoke Ben inhaled is jetting out of his son’s nose and nostrils.

Brad doesn’t notice it at first, but Ben stared hard at his son, watching the smoke drift and thin.

“How does it help you to relax Dad?”

"It just does..." He shook his head, confused. He felt very strange and light-headed. Ben took another drag from his cigarette. He inhaled as normal and again the smoke jetted from his son’s nose and mouth when Brad spoke again, demanding more information on his dad’s need to smoke. Brad still doesn't notice until Ben brings the odd observation to his son’s attention.

“Let’s try a little test,” Ben suggested.

“Are you feeling all right, Dad?”

"No...I mean...what's going on?" Ben saw his son staring intently at him and at the drifting smoke currents.

“What do you mean, Dad?”

Ben rubbed his eyes. "Something's not right," he muttered.

“What’s not right? Why do you keep staring at me in that weird way Dad?”

"How are you feeling, Brad?" Ben asked. He tried to regulate his breathing and slow his racing heartbeat.

“I'm good...only...I don't know...there's like a weird feeling in my chest...doesn't hurt...it's just...I dunno...weird.”

Ben took another puff.

“What is so weird about you smoking a cigarette, Dad?” Brad asked, as the smoke jets out of his nose and mouth. Somehow, he still does not notice the exhalations of smoke.

"The smoke...that's impossible. Brad, don't you see?"

“What...that you smoke...that's not impossible, Dad.” Brad giggled. “Stop fooling with me, Dad, come on...”

Ben leaped up from the table. More smoke streamed from Brad’s mouth and nostrils. "How are you doing that?"

“Doing what, Dad?”

"Maybe I need to lie down..."

“What’s wrong, Dad?” Brad sounded suddenly fearful.

"I feel so...so light...and weak," Ben said.

“Why don't you sit down and finish your smoke, Dad? I’ll clear the table.”

Ben rubbed his eyes again. "Yeah...that might help." He left the kitchen and took a seat in his chair in the living room.

“Feeling better now, Dad?” Brad called from the kitchen.

“I'm not sure. Are you feeling ok now?” He lit up a new cigarette, but his hands are a little unsteady.

“Yeah, of course Dad, I feel...” Now, finally, Brad realized that he is exhaling smoke from his nose and mouth. “I feel!? DAD?!

“I'm ....I'm...” Brad raced from the kitchen into the living room. “Look at me, Dad!”

Brad opened his eyes and looked. His first thought is that he is somehow looking into a mirror.

He is looking at himself.

"Brad?"

“DAD?” He blew smoke out his nose and mouth. “But how? I mean, I don't smoke. You always told me not to…”

Ben felt very dizzy. “What's happened?”

At that moment, the cigarette that was in Ben’s hand appears in his son’s hand. Brad almost involuntarily brought it up to his mouth with his arm — to his mouth!

Brad inhaled. DAD?! I'm...I'm...I'm smoking your cigarette!”

Ben is getting more disoriented as he watch himself from...

“Where am I? Brad!"

His voice! It sounded like Brad's.

“Dad? What is… what 's happ—“ His voice cracked much lower “—ening to me?”

Ben heard his own voice. "Brad, something's happened...to us..."

“Dad! Where’s your beard?”

Ben raised his hand to touch a smooth cheek. "No!"

Brad continued to smoke the cigarette naturally like he has been doing so for years.

Ben ran into the kitchen, to the table, and grabbed the artifact. "It did this to us!"

Ben stared.

"Dad, everything...is bigger!" Brad exclaimed. “Dad, I itch all over! Make it stop!”

At the same time, he continued dragging on the cigarette like it was natural for him to do so.

Ben fumbled with the artifact. His hands…they’re not his big hands. "Did you do something! Think! Brad, what did you do to us?"

“It’s not my fault!” Brad began to cry in his still developing 37-year-old body.

"I sure as hell didn't cause this!" But Ben’s normally loud voice is higher.

As Brad raised his hands to his mouth to continue smoking his dad’s...now his own...cigarette, he felt his beard against his hands.

“Dad! My face. It has got hair all over it...I have a beard! Just like…just like you.”

Ben watched his big hands move across his...or rather his son’s...beard.

In dismay, he ran his hands over his face. “It's so smooth,” he whispered. And, he noticed, he had to look up when he watched Brad touch his beard.

“Daddy, why am I so big?” Brad began to sob. “Make it stop! Please, daddy, do something.”

Ben felt only panic. “Oh fuck! Calm down,” Ben said savagely in his squeaky voice. “Just don't cry.”

Between sobs, his new huge body shook. “I can’t help it,” Brad wailed. “Look at me! I'm...I'm... you!”

Now that his son had voiced the undeniable truth of the situation, Ben almost felt like crying. "And I...I...I'm you!" Ben said. “I have got to have a cigarette.” He ran to the table and took one from his pack.

His small hands trembled as he attempted to light up.

“Are you all right, Dad?”

Brad, in his huge, adult body, continued sobbing.

"Do I look okay! Jesus! What are we going to do?" Ben hated the high-pitched sound of his son’s voice producing the words he spoke.

“Don't yell at me, Dad! Please! I didn't do anything.”

“You had to do something, Brad. Think back. We've got to figure this out."

Ben felt almost afraid to look down at his body. It's so scrawny and under-developed. Hands still shaking, he took a drag on the cigarette he had managed to light. He began to cough violently. He continued coughing for a long time.

His son watched concerned as his father coughed.

“What…the hell?” Ben cried in a strangled voice. He hadn’t expected that. His new 12-year-old lungs were certainly not ready for that.

“I figured it out, Dad. You can't smoke in my body...you'll get busted.”

At the same time, Brad grabbed the cigarette from his father’s hand, put it to his mouth, inhaled deeply and let out a satisfying exhale. “AHHHHHHHHHHH!”

“Cool,” Brad said. “I can smoke now.”

"Stop that!" Ben ordered. "What are you doing!"

“But Dad...I'm...like...YOU now,” Brad said in a husky, excited voice. “And you smoke, right? Well, I kind of like smoking, too!”

"You're not really me, Brad,” Ben said. “Stop fooling around."

“Sorry,” Brad said. “But can I can smoke some more...it feels really good to me.”

"Stop!" Ben said as he watched Brad, now in his former adult body, take deep puffs.

“Why Dad? It's no fair!”

Ben, in a rage, stepped forward and grabbed Brad’s arm and tried to pull it down. The immediate failure caused him to quickly realize he is too weak to even budge his son’s arm.

“What are you doing, Dad?” Brad asked. “You wanna wrestle or something?”

“What?” Ben asked. “No…”

“I thought you wanted to wrestle with me.”

“No, I don’t,” Ben said as calmly as he could manage. “You may be in my body, but I'm still in charge.”

“ I always let you win, remember?” Brad asked, laughing hard afterwards.

"Brad, take this seriously," Ben pleaded.

“Okay.” Brad took a deep inhale from his cigarette. He began to feel much more comfortable with the cigarette, and he began to thoroughly enjoy the sensation.

Ben tried to grab his son’s arm again, with both hands this time.

“Dad, I thought you said I had to be serious and that you didn't want to wrestle,” Brad said.

“What?” Ben began to back away as his son, now in Ben’s former adult body, advanced on him.

“I'm just doing what you told me.” He made a deep inhalation on his cigarette. “ JEEZ!”

"Put that damn cigarette down!”

“Oh, but Dad!” Brad said. “It's so cool and it feels so good and it tastes so good. Come on. You never let me have any fun.”

"This isn't a time for fun,” Ben insisted. “Where's that artifact?"

“I think you left it in the kitchen,” Brad said.

"Get it! We need to study it!"

“All right, Dad,” Brad said. “Hey, Dad. I'm thirsty. Can I have something to drink when I'm in the kitchen?”

"Sure." Ben answered. He wanted to have a good look at that artifact. There had to be a way to get him back into his adult body.

In the kitchen, Brad reached into the fridge and absent-mindedly pulled out a can of beer, opened it and started drinking it.

Almost as an afterthought, he realized how good it tasted.

“Here's the artifact, Dad,” Brad said, returning to the living room and giving the object to his father. He began to notice now how silly his dad looked in his old body.

“Brad! Put that beer back!”

“Beer? But I don't drink...WHOA...I got a ...got a ...can of beer...and I was drinking it,” Brad said. “Hmmm, it tastes real good. Dad, can I have a little more? Please?”

“No!” Ben exclaimed.

“Jeez! I can't smoke and I can't have a beer when I'm you,” Brad argued. “Why can you do all those things when you were in your adult body?”

“Because it was my adult body,” Ben replied. “You're still only 12 years old!”

“Yeah, but I’ll be 13 next month,” Brad said. “Dad, don't I have like an adult body? Your body?”

“Yes,” Ben admitted uneasily. “But we need to change that. That weird artifact you brought home must be the key. Where did the school get it?”

“Some of my buddies in the Boy Scouts said they found it on a camping trip near the old Indian burial grounds.”

“Your buds!” Ben screamed. “I thought a teacher gave it to you!”

Brad became evasive. “Ahhh, well, you see Dad... uhhhh..”

“You shouldn't mess with things like that!” Ben shouted in an angry tone.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” To Ben’s dismay, he had to watch his son, now in his huge adult body, begin to sob again. “I didn't find it...and you are saying like this is all my fault.”

“Will you quit crying?” Ben begged. “When will you grow up!”

“I'm only a kid, Dad, and I'm scared. It was cool for a little while to be you, but I don't know all the stuff you do about building stuff...”

Ben watched in horror as his huge, manly body became convulsed with Brad’s frantic sobbing.

“Look...sorry...we don't have to worry about any of that yet,” Ben promised. “We'll get this all cleared up before then!

“When, Dad? I gotta go to school tomorrow?” Brad said. “Unless…” His body convulsed with laughter instead of sobs. “Hey Dad. Can you go to school for me? That would be awesome! You would be like the smartest kid in the class! Come on!”

Ben’s eyes widened. “I am not going back to junior high!”

Brad, not having heard, continued gleefully. “I can call in sick and hang around the house and watch cable all day. So cool!”

“It isn’t going to happen!” Ben insisted.

“Oh, come on, Dad. For one day! Please?”

“No! Aren't you listening to me! I've got to go to work...not go to school.”

Brad grinned. “Dad, how are you gonna do your work in my body?” Brad wanted to know. “ I mean you are kinda scrawny...that’s what you tell me.”

“That's why we need to know more about the artifact,” Ben said, increasingly desperate to keep Brad focused on the immediate problem. “How did you mean to research it?”

“Get online and search the Internet to find out what all that weird writing means that's on it...see on the sides...”

Ben turned over the amulet and stared at some weird symbols. He slapped his forehead in frustration. “Why didn't you mention that earlier?”

“Dad, everything got kinda weird and stuff before...well you know...”

“Maybe we should log online and start looking up sites about that weird Indian relic?” Ben suggested, staring up, unable to shake his awe at his own huge body now occupied so awkwardly by his 12-year-old son.

He took the chair in front of the computer, but found it alarming to notice how large the chair now seemed. He knew that the former adjustments he had made to his seat were high enough to keep his feet from touching the carpet.

And, at the same time, he felt Brad’s huge body leaning in against the back of the chair, reminding him yet again of the drastic change.

He didn’t like the reminder.

He stared at the screen, his mind almost a blank, trying to think of the best way to conduct a search.

”Hey Dad...did you find anything yet...I wanna look...” His son’s excited tone sounded strange being produced with his former adult, husky voice.

“What is that damn thing called anyway? I don't know what to type in the search engine.” Ben hated the shrill sound of his higher voice.

“Uhhh...try Indian artifacts Dad...”

He typed in the suggestion and got several thousand hits. "We've got to narrow down the search!" Ben said in exasperation.

“How we gonna do that huh?”

"I don't know." His voice sounded tired, and he felt a strong craving for another cigarette.

But he didn't need another coughing fit.

“Dad come on... I wanna find out how this stupid thing works...”

"That's what I'm trying to do!" Ben slammed his small fingers down in frustration against the keyboard.

“Jeez chill Dad...You don't wanna break the PC...”

"Ok. ok. Maybe...Brad, do you know the Indian tribe this thing comes from?”

“Uhhh…I think so....maybe....Pete told me when he gave me this thing...”

"Yeah?" Ben craned his neck back and looked up. He felt a tremor of shock to see his huge former body standing, looming practically, behind him. "Think, dammit. What tribe?"

“OK OK don't yell at me Dad...I'm trying my best...I'm scared too you know…”

Ben tried to soften his attitude. "Sorry, I know. But I got the worse part of this deal, believe me!"

“You?” Brad’s voice boomed. “Look at me!”

“But, dammit, I'm only a kid!” Ben protested.

“And I got a beard...and all this hair...and...and....” The words all merged, yet again, into fearful sobbing.

Brad needed several moments to stop sobbing and speak again. “And I'm scared because I don't know how to be a man...”

“But you're an adult! And you may have to start acting like it. You need to quit crying and focus! Okay?" Ben’s squeaky voice sounded, at least to his ears, neither in charge or reassuring.

Sniffling, Brad tried to smile. “Okay, okay, Dad...I'll try.” He blew his nose and smiled.

“All right. What did Pete tell you about the relic?”

“That these Indians helped the first Pilgrims. It’s something with an A... I'm trying to remember...”

“Brad!” Ben shouted shrilly, instantly regretting the irritation in his voice.

“Algonquins!” Brad exclaimed. “That’s it! The Algonquin tribe.”

Ben quickly typed the tribe’s name into the computer and waited for the search to yield results.

“What's it say, Dad? What's it say, huh?”

“Let me look,” Ben snapped as he felt Brad crowd him with his huge, muscular body. "I can do this."

“Okay, jeez!” Brad said.

Ben groaned. “It says there are 15,900 results! We can't wade through all that.”

“What are we gonna do, Dad?” Brad asked. He leaned forward, pressing the front of his huge adult body against his dad’s scrawny back.

“How about some air?” Ben complained.

But, as he pushed his chair back from the keyboard, he turned and saw Brad fumbling with the artifact in his big, beefy hands.

“Be careful with that!” Ben ordered. He made a grab for it.

“Nuh-uh,” Brad said, and he laughed a hearty laugh. He jerked the artifact far out of his father’s current reach. “Don't worry, Dad. I’m a whiz at juggling.” Ben, irritated by his son’s antics, leaped and grabbed for the artifact. He managed to tap the artifact, which knocked the relic out of Brad’s hands.

“Dad!” Brad shrieked. “Get it!”

Ben reached, but his arms proved too short. The relic dropped toward the floor. At the last second, Brad shouted “I got it!” and hurled his 6'2" body on the floor. The relic landed on his back.

“Ouch!” Brad cried out.

Ben felt his small body trembling. “Dammit, Brad!” Ben shouted. “Be more careful.”

He reached down and plucked the relic off his son’s back.

“But it didn't break, Dad...jeez I told you I had it covered.” Brad began to giggle.

“That may be the only way to switch us back,” Ben yelled. “You've got to be more responsible.”

“I'll try, Dad. I am sorry if I get a little...I know sometimes I'm...uhhh...”

"What?"

“I know sometimes I'm a jerk...okay...but I'm just a kid...cut me some slack, Dad,” Brad complained.

“I cut you slack all the time, Brad,” Ben said in a cross tone.

“Yeah, right,” Brad said with a husky tone of sarcasm. “You are always on me about toughening up.”

"Listen, you get away with a lot more than I did when I was your age!" Ben shouted.

Brad laughed. “Well, now you are my age again!”

Ben didn’t want to think of that fact. He stared at the computer screen. "Maybe we ought to get a good night's rest,” he said. “Work fresh on this problem. Or maybe, God, maybe it will just reverse overnight."

“But Dad...I mean...what about school tomorrow? I can't...you can't...”

Ben knows his son is right, but his mind feels so fuzzy he can barely concentrate.

“Oh, come on, Dad, just a little longer? I'm not tired at all...what's wrong with you?”

Ben realized that, normally, it would be past his son’s bedtime.

"Well, I had a hard day at work, and I guess this whole situation is freaking me out."

“You’re freaked?” Brad said in the husky voice that kept Ben so off balance. Brad laughed. “Have you had a good look at me, Dad?”

Ben swallowed. “Yeah, believe me, I am very aware of the situation.”

Brad giggled. “Yeah, I guess so. I mean my Dad is 12 years old now.” He giggled more. “This is just so weird.”

Ben yawned and stretched his arms. They look so skinny over his head.

“What’s the matter, Dad?”

"Let's just get a little rest. We can wake up early and start again.”

“Do I have to go to bed, Dad? I'm not tired. Really!”

Ben felt that he is getting more tired just having the argument. "Yes! You do!"

Ben logged off the computer. He stood and walked toward his room.

“Shoot, Dad, you never let me have any fun! It's not fair,” Brad complained as he lumbered down the hall behind his much shorter father.

Ben heard his son’s big feet padding heavily across the floor behind him. He walked into his bedroom and stopped in some dismay as he sized up the huge king-sized bed in his room.

He heard Brad walk on toward his room.

But, only an instant later, he heard his son’s booming voice calling for him.

Ben rushed to his son’s room. "Yeah? What’s wrong?”

“Dad, I think I'm gonna have a problem sleeping in this bed.” Brad sat on the edge of the twin bed. They heard the box springs groan under his weight.

Ben groaned. "Ok. Maybe we ought to switch rooms. Will that work?"

Brad’s face showed his excitement. “You mean I can sleep in your room? That is way cool, Dad.”

"Well, it makes sense. I guess that bed would be a bit cramped for you now."

Brad got a running start and raced down the hall. “This is gonna be so cool!”

Ben heard the sound of his 200-pound-son leaping up and down on his bed.

“Uh, try not to break the bed, ok son?" Ben asked, looking in on the incredulous scene.

Brad stopped, got off the bed. He looked extremely red-faced. “Sorry, Dad. I got carried away.”

Ben yawned again. "Just get some sleep. Okay?" He felt wearier with each passing moment.

“I'll try, Dad.” He paused, turned and gave his dad a crushing good night hug.

"Sleep well," Ben managed to say when his son released him from the monstrous bear hug. He turned and walked away, still amazed at the strength in his son’s hug.

“You too, Dad. See you in the morning.”

Ben closed the door behind him and stared at his son’s small bed. Actually, as he looked closer, the bed looked rather large now.

A short distance down the hall, Brad closed his door and realized that he is now in his Dad's private domain. His Dad’s bedroom always used to be the only part of the house off limits to Brad.

Brad sat on the edge of his father’s huge king-sized bed. The mattress even felt different from the one in his bedroom.

The novelty of everything made Brad more than a little eager to go "exploring.”

At the same time, just down the hall, Ben looked around at the boyish surroundings of his son’s room. He saw that Brad had a few posters on the wall. He sighed as he slipped off his shirt. Unfortunately, he looked up and found his new reflection in the mirror on the back of the door.

"Damn!” Ben said aloud in his boyish voice. “I'm so scrawny."

907

Brad, on the other hand, found his new body anything but skinny.

He walked over to the mirror on the back of his Dad’s door and took off his dad’s flannel shirt. He left his dad’s T-shirt in place for the moment.

Standing, gazing at the mirror, Brad marveled at all the hair on his new body. He liked the look of the well-defined pecs pressing against the tight T-shirt.

“Whoa! I am a real man!” Brad said. “Cool!”

In the other room, Ben’s reaction to finding himself trapped in his son’s undeveloped body turned out to be much more subdued. He stared at his reflection. His chest looked smooth and completely devoid of hair.

“Hell, I don't even have much of a chest,” Ben whispered aloud.

At the same time, Brad slipped off his T-shirt to fully see his pecs, his abs...his biceps...

"I’m Superman!” Brad exclaimed and began to laugh again. He slid his hands over the hair covering his massive chest.

“This feels so weird. It…” Brad couldn’t help giggling…”tickles.”

Down the hall, in his son’s room, still transfixed with the reflection in the mirror, Ben dared to unbutton his jeans and let them slide down to his ankles.

••••

In his former room, his son, now in Ben’s body, is also doing almost the very same.

Brad saw that he is wearing gray boxer briefs that show off his dad’s — well, now his own — very nice package.”

In his son’s room, Ben has stripped down and is wearing only a pair of white briefs, but there's no outline in them at all.

••••

Meanwhile, Brad is rummaging around his Dad’s room, opening drawers and looking inside the closet. Inside the closet, he made a discovery that excited him.

“Whoa! Dad's leather jacket. So cool. And it probably fits me now!”

Brad slipped the leather jacket onto his huge frame. In the next instant, he dared to tug down his boxer briefs. He looked at himself in the mirror, staring at his huge body dressed in only the leather jacket and the tight boxer briefs.

“I look so cool!” Brad exclaimed.

••••

“I look pathetic,” Ben said to himself as he stared in a mirror. "Oh my God!" His voice is panicky as he realized there's only a little fuzz growing on his crotch.

••••

Brad stood at the mirror and took down the front of his boxer briefs to reveal his father’s — now his — 7" soft cock surrounded by a nest of thick bristly dark pubes.

“WHOOOOOA!” Brad exclaimed.

He hasn’t really seen his dad's cock lately, and now he can even reach down and touch it.

••••

Meantime, Ben pulled down the cotton briefs and stood naked in front of the mirror in Brad’s room. He felt like crying as he stared at the thin, tiny dick.

••••

“Wow! It's so— so—“ Brad struggled for words as he reached down and cupped his cock in one hand. “Big!”

He continued exploring his father’s room, wearing just his Dad’s leather jacket. “My leather jacket now,” Brad said and laughed.

••••

This is the biggest shock yet for Ben. He’s always felt really proud of his endowment. Now, it's all gone. Or might as well be.

But, as he stared down at it, he watched it get hard. It's still little more than a tiny prick, though.

He always knew that Brad appeared to be slow at developing, but he never guessed the kid was, well, still very much a kid.

••••

Brad found himself fond of the feeling as his new, big dick flopped around as he went from drawer to drawer in his father’s room until I come across his Dad’s humidor.

He opened the humidor and smelled the rich scent.

He picked up a cigar and held it in his hand.

It’s the first time he has ever held one before.

It’s nice and big and thick

“Wow! Dad’s cigars! Cool!”

He brought it up to his nose and sniffed it once very briefly and pulled it away again.

Then, more slowly, he put it back to his nose and took a very deep whiff. “Oh, that smells really, really good,” Brad said.

The smell even added to his gradual arousal — a fact that had escaped his attention at first as his cock became semi-hard.

“I wonder…” Brad said aloud, reasoning with a theory that had entered his mind. “Like, I'm my dad now, and my Dad smokes. It would be so cool if I could smoke one of his cigars.”

He tried to remember where his Dad keeps his lighter.

He walked to the dresser. Best he could remember, his Dad kept the lighter and the thing to cut the ends of the cigars on top of the dresser.

••••

Meanwhile, Ben has climbed into his son’s twin bed. He never bothered putting on any clothes, and for some reason, he can't pull the covers up yet. He is still too absorbed in noticing his new body.

•••••

Brad looked over and saw the brass punch and the lighter his Dad used for his cigar smoking. His newfound enthusiasm wanes when he worries about his father’s reaction. “Dad is gonna kill me if I smoke his cigar,” Brad said. “But hey...it's like I'm kinda Dad now...so...”

He picked up the brass punch. “Now let’s see if I can remember how Dad does it...”

••••

Naked in his son’s bed, still trying to come to terms with his change, Ben is shaken by a horrible thought. What if the change is somehow one that keeps him stuck in Brad’s body? What guarantee do they even have that he might eventually regain an adult body?

The frightening prospect caused one immediate reaction as his tiny, thin dick became rock hard.

••••

Brad put the golden thing at the end of the cigar and pushed down. “Cool!” Brad said.

••••

Ben reached down very tentatively and touched the little dick. He felt it stiffen.

••••

Brad put the cigar in his mouth. He looked into the mirror, saw himself still wearing the leather jacket and with the cigar in his mouth. Around the cigar, he managed to form the word, “Wow!”

••••

Ben had forgotten how sensitive a young dick could be. The sensation burned through his nerve impulses.

•••••

Brad tried to pull off an imitation of his Dad using the lighter.

He used his thumb, just like he has seen his Dad do, and clicked it with his thumb to open and...

The Zippo opened up. “Ahh, got it,” he said triumphantly. Then he pushed against this wheel thing and the lighter ignited.

He brought the flame to the end of the cigar.

He started puffing furiously on the cigar.

The cigar started to burn.

With every delicious puff, his body responded.

His puffing became more steady, slower.

“Hmmmmmmmmmmmm,” Brad murmured. “This tastes so—“ Brad puffed furiously. “—So good.”

He puffed harder. “It feel so—“ Brad groaned. “What the…”

Brad looked down in shock at his penis. “It's— it's getting bigger,” he cried in alarm. “UGGhh. What's happening?”

The entire time, he kept puffing furiously on the cigar he had smuggled from his Dad’s humidor.

He slipped off the leather jacket.

••••

In his son’s room, Ben began slowly rubbing his tiny, hard dick. It felt hyper sensitive.

••••

Brad stretched out on the bed, cigar clamped in his bearded jaw.

“I've never…” Brad groaned. “Never felt this way before.”

He started touching the huge cock to make it go down again. “Oh yeah!” Brad moaned.

He continued puffing fiercely on the cigar.

He leaned back on the bed and pushed his head onto his pillow. "Oh God!" Brad moaned as he stroked.

His hand cupped around his 9" hard dick. It throbbed, pulsed, lengthened and thickened. In between puffs on the cigar, he managed to voice his confusion. “I’ve never felt like this!”

He rubbed his dick tentatively. Slowly at first. Then, after he realized it felt really good, he kept stroking as he continued to savor his cigar.

The bed springs squeaked as Brad threw himself into this new activity. With every puff he took, he made his new body more aroused. His cock felt so much harder. Almost instinctively, Brad started rubbing his dick harder and faster.

“UUGH UGGH PUFFFFF PUFFFFFFF ARGGGGHHHH!”

He panted heavily. “This is, oh God, this is so…” Brad puffed more heavily on his cigar. “It’s so…oh my…”

1532

His breath came in hard, ragged gasps. He felt his body constrict. Cum sprays all over his hairy chest — his hairy abs, his hairy hand...all the way up to his hairy pecs.

Brad felt shocked when he experienced the incredible release and saw his huge cock explode.

“No, oh no!” Brad exclaimed. “What did I do?”

He leaped off the bed and started pacing. “What have I done?” Brad cried.

With the cigar still clamped firmly in place between his jaws, Brad raced from his room and down the hall.

“Dad! Dad! Are you awake? Dad?”

Ben froze in shock as his burst into the room and found him with his little fist wrapped around his little prick.

Brad stared in confusion. “Dad? What are you doing?”

“Brad! What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m sorry, Dad.” He puffed on the cigar. “I— I think I wet my, I mean your, bed.”

At the same time, Brad looked down and noticed the little stiff dick on his former body. “Hey, Dad. My penis never got like that. How did you make that happen?”

"Calm down,” Ben commanded. “Uh, Brad, it's normal.”

Suddenly, Ben saw something else to seize his attention. “What the hell? That's one of my cigars!”

“Uh, yeah, well, Dad, you see, I thought that since I am you…”

“Put it out!” Ben yelled. He leaped out of bed, stark naked.

“But Dad. It tastes so good. I really like it.” Brad stopped suddenly. “DAD! You’re not wearing any pajamas!”

Ben rushed toward his son, but the difference in their sizes became more pronounced the closer he approached. His face is barely level with Brad’s chest.

He noticed the cum drops on his son’s hairy chest.

“Aren’t you cold, Dad, not wearing any PJs?”

"I don't wear PJs.” Ben said in a soft voice as he looked up with a dawning awareness at Brad’s hulking body.

“Oh, sorry Dad. I didn't know.” Brad looked down, again impressed by his Dad’s much smaller size. “But what about me? I think I wet the bed. Please, don’t get mad at me.”

To Ben’s dismay, Brad continued to puff on the cigar.

His little dick has shriveled back up.

"It wasn't wetting the bed,” Ben said. “Son, it's just something that happens to men. Jesus, I thought I had maybe another year before I had to discuss this."

Brad appeared stunned. “You mean like it's NORMAL? But it's wet and I couldn't stop…”

“Yeah, it's normal,” Ben explained. Clearly uncomfortable, he looked up at his son and asked, “Don't they teach you this in school any more?”

“What don't they teach us in school, Dad?

“Sex.”

Ben noticed that his former dick now on his son has started to get hard again. “I mean, well, it's part of sex,” Ben said awkwardly.

Brad swallowed hard, noticed that his dick had stiffened again.

“Uh, son, do you remember that you saw me pulling on my dick when you came in the room?”

“Yeah,” Brad answered, and then he took several puffs on his cigar.

Ben cannot help but notice that his son’s erection is at full mast.

“Umm, Brad, you really, really need to stop puffing on that thing,” Ben said, well aware of the effect his cigar could have on him.

“Why?” Brad asked. “Taste kind of good, Dad. I like it.” He puffed more as his dick got harder and longer still.

Ben, running out of options, tried to reach up and grab the cigar. In the process, he accidentally brushing against the firm dick hanging between his son’s huge legs.

“Oh, Dad, wow. That felt nice,” Brad said.

Ben swallowed hard. "I didn't mean to..."

“Could you rub it some more,” Brad asked. “It seemed to help earlier when…”

Ben licked his lips. "I don't...no, I shouldn't do that...."

“Oh, please Daddy,” Brad said, taking three quick, deep puffs on his cigar. “It kinda hurts and I don't know how to make it normal again.”

To his dismay, Ben noticed that his own little stiffie had returned.

“Hey, Dad. Look! My, uh, I mean your penis is getting longer too. Mine never did that. Why does that happen, Dad?

"Brad, uh, it's something that happens, well, because, well, when a man gets excited."

“You mean like happy?” Brad asked as he puffed vigorously on the cigar.”

“Sort of. Dammit, Brad. That cigar's not helping!”

“Why? I like it. Why do you not want me to smoke it?”

"Because, well, it's something that can cause you, well, it is sort of, at least it can be, arousing.”

“What does arousing mean, Dad?” Brad kept puffing despite his father’s protests.

"It means you get excited and, well, your cock gets hard."

“Like ours are now?” Brad wanted to know.

“Yeah,” Ben admitted.

“Cool,” Brad said.

His father reached up for the cigar, but instead bumped into his son. Brad’s huge erection bumped against Ben’s stomach.

“Oh, sorry,” Brad said. “Gee, it’s awfully sensitive, Dad.”

"I know," Ben said. He felt his own tiny nub straining. "Believe me, I know."

“How do you make it stop, Dad?”

"Well, like earlier, you can, well, you can stroke it, rub it, but maybe you should just stop smoking and try to think about something else."

Even as Ben told Brad to stop, he can't resist reaching down and touching his tiny dick.

Brad crowded closer. “Show me how to do that.”

“Damn,” Ben jerked his hand away. "I didn't mean to do that."

Ben puffed harder on his cigar and looked down between his father’s legs. Without warning, he reached out one of his big hands toward his former little dick now between his father’s legs.

“Please don't stop, Dad,” Brad said. “I like this, Dad.”

"Oh Christ!" Ben exclaimed as he felt Brad’s huge hand grasp his dick. "Let go," Ben cried out, his voice breaking.

“Sorry, Dad. Did that hurt? I was only doing what you were doing, Dad.”

Ben breathed deeply. “It is just very, very sensitive,” he tried again to explain.

“Okay,” Brad said. He yawned and stretched his massive body. “I think I'm tired, Dad.”

“Maybe you should get some sleep," Ben suggested quickly.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He took a few more puffs. “I am beat.”

"Why don't you put out that cigar?" Ben recommended in a friendly, reasonable voice.

“Okay,Dad,” Brad agreed. “It's almost done anyway. See? Jeez, I smoked a whole one of Dad's big cigars all by myself. Isn’t that cool?”

Ben looked up in surprise and realized that's true.

“What’s the matter, Dad?”

"Uh...nothing,” Ben said. "I guess I miss my cigars."

“You sure that’s all?”

“Yeah,” Ben said. He crawled beneath the covers on his son’s bed.

“I’m sorry that you can’t smoke, Dad. “But you know what happened when you tried to smoke earlier, right?”

"Yeah,” Ben admitted in a sad tone.

Brad lowered his body over his father, who looked so small in Brad’s bed. He hugged him really, really tight. Ben rose up and returned the hug, only as he did so, he brushed again against his son’s still semi-hard cock.

Brad moaned softly, still intoxicated by all the new physical feelings he has experienced in the last few hours.

“Good night, Dad,” Brad said. He turned out the light as he left the room.

Ben closed his eyes and hoped that morning might help them think of a way out of this unwelcome switch.

The next morning, after a fitful night of sleep interrupted by weird dreams, Ben awoke to his even weirder reality. The previous day, he had been a 37-year-old man, tall, muscular, holding down a tough job as a construction worker.

Now, he awoke in his son's small bed and found himself still trapped inside 12-year-old Brad's scrawny body.

The enormous physical change was driven home as he slipped out of bed. He walked across the floor to his son's dresser to find some clothes to cover his naked body.

A few moments later, still feeling very odd as he battled both sleepiness and his unfamiliarity with his new body, he stumbled into the kitchen.

He meant to make breakfast, but unexpected gaps kept opening up in his head. He shook his head, stared at the large kitchen range. He felt as if entire gaps of his brain had dissolved overnight.

Yet again, he stared, bewildered, at the stove as his son made a noisy entrance. Brad, wearing only boxer briefs, seated his big, bulky body in a chair at the table. He put one leg up on the table the same as he has seen his Dad do a million times.

At that time, he produced a pack of cigarettes and lit a cigarette while he waits for breakfast to be ready.

He inhaled deeply. "Are you okay, Dad?" Brad asked. "I am so hungry! When's breakfast gonna be ready, huh?"

Ben stirred the eggs in a skillet. "About ready...I think," he said.

Brad stretched and continued taking deep draws on his first cigarette of the day. "Great! I can't believe how hungry I am."

Ben, turning from the stove, looked over at his huge son and frowned. "Brad, put out the cigarette at the breakfast table."

"Why Dad?" Brad inhaled and sighed. "You always smoke at the table. And now I'm you, right?"

"No," Ben objected. "You're a man, no, that's not right. I mean you're a kid. It's not right."

Brad grinned and turned a patient gaze on Ben. "I've been a smoker since I was your age, son," he said, inhaling deeply. "I'm used to it."

Ben felt a chill run along his spine. "I'm not your son!" Ben said, particularly dismayed at the squeaky nature of his attempt to project his former commanding authority in his tone of voice.

Before he had long to dwell on this latest humiliation, Ben heard the knock at the back door.

"Yeah, I'm your son," Brad said and laughed. "Gee, you sure are acting funny this morning, Dad."

Brad noticed that his dad froze at the knock on the door. "Who's that, Dad?" Brad asked as he inhaled deeply at his cigarette.

"Shit! It's Jake." Ben said with a panicked edge to his voice.

Jake, as Brad well knew, happened to be a man his dad works with in construction.

"I forgot," Ben said. "Jake's driving me to work this week."

"Cool," Brad said, smoking deeply. "I like Mr. Connors, Dad. He's a cool guy."

"Brad, listen," Ben explained hurriedly. "I think it best we not tell people what's happened. So, you've got to pretend you're me. Okay?"

"But Dad. I— I'm not you, How am I gonna get away with that?"

"I'll just try to get rid of him," Ben said. He walked toward the door, but Brad's urgent voice gave him pause.

"Dad! What do you want me to say to him? I don't know what to do."

"Damn," Ben cursed. "He'll be expecting me, so you better get the door. Just wing it."

"But Dad! I don't know—"

They hear the knock at the door.

"Just get the door, Brad," Ben ordered.

"Okay," Brad said, and he opened the door. "Hey, Mr. Con— uhh, I mean Jake. How the hell are you today, man?"

"Hey, Ben," Jake said. "Not dressed yet, heh?"

Brad looked down and saw that he was still dressed only in his dad's underwear. "Uh, well, just taking it easy." he said.

"Fine by me," Jake said, "but we don't want to be late."

At the same time, Ben listened, amazed at how much Brad really sounds like him.

Jake Connors is a big man, but until now, Ben had never noticed his friend's size.

At the same time, Brad marveled at how much he sounded like his dad. He stopped trying to think about everything and just let his instincts take control. So far, the new method seemed to work for him.

He walks back to the table and sat down in his chair. He nodded his head toward his father and gave a wink when Jake wasn't looking.

"Hi there, Brad," Jake said as he sat down at the table across from Ben.

"Uh, Dad, uh, I mean Brad is fixing up some breakfast. You want something?" Brad asked.

"No thanks, Ben," Jake said. The big man laughed. "Besides, I think it is burning."

Brad glanced toward the stove. "Dad! Uh, I mean Brad. The eggs!"

Brad ran over to the stove, but he was too late. The eggs looked thoroughly charred.

"Serves you right, Ben, making the kid cook breakfast," Jake said.

"He promised he would, Mr Conn..., uh, I mean, Jake," Brad said, confusing even himself as he tried to fool his dad's best friend and causing Ben to wince in dismay.

To save himself from the awkward statement, Brad laughed and said, "I sure didn't want to disappoint the little squirt. Right, son?"

Ben felt a surge of irritation, but pushed down the feeling. "Right, Dad," he said.

"Well, good thing I'm early," Jake said. "We can stop and get something at a drive-through."

Jake looked at his friend. "We can even drop the boy off at school."

"Uh, yeah, well, I'm not dressed yet, Jake," Brad stammered. "And neither is Dad, uh, I mean Brad."

Jake looked confused. "You all right, Ben?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why do you ask?" Brad responded from his adult body.

Jakes took out his own pack of cigarettes. "I'll just have a smoke while you guys get ready," he said, looking strangely toward his friend and the guy's son.

Ben, forced to watch as the two big men in the kitchen both smoked cigarettes, felt an urgent longing.

"Son, we'd better get ready," Brad said as he inhaled deeply.

Ben tore his gaze away from Jake's cigarette.

"Yeah, we need to talk, son, uh, I mean, Dad."

"Yeah. Upstairs, young man." Brad, the cigarette clamped in his jaws, turned to Jake. "We''ll be back down in a sec, Jake."

Ben followed behind the huge body that used to be his own. Once upstairs, he faced Brad, who looked on the verge of panic.

"Dad! What are we gonna do? Jake, I mean Mr. Connors, he thinks I am you."

"Of course he does," Ben snapped.

Brad inhaled. The effect seemed to calm him.

"Look, we've got to play along with Jake, at least for now," Ben instructed his son.

"So, I'm Ben!" Brad said.

"No, dammit. I'm Ben," he responded to his son. "Well, for now, you're me, at least as far as Jake is concerned."

"Oh, yeah," Brad said and giggled. "I'm sorry. It's all so confusing, isn't it?"

"Brad, I need you to listen," Ben said in a serious tone. "When you get to work, think of some excuse. You'll need to get away from work. And then you can come to school and get me out of class."

"Okay," Brad said and nodded.

"Then we can come home and think of a way out of this mess," Ben said in a hopeful tone.

"All right, but what do I say when I get to the site, Dad?" Brad asked. "I don't know what to do. And I'm scared, Dad."

Ben frowned as Brad sniffled and looked on the verge of tears. "Just don't say much of anything," he said. "And make me a list. I don't even know what classes you're taking."

Brad took out a composition book and began to scribble the names and locations of all his classes.

"Don't be scared," Ben said again. "You can do this. Downstairs, you almost fooled me. You sounded just like me. How did you do that?"

Brad inhaled deeply. "How did I do what, Dad?"

Ben shook his head. "Just keep thinking you are me," he suggested. "It seems to have worked so far. Now I need to find some clothes out of your closet."

"Hey, Dad, what should I wear?" Brad asked.

Ben told his son where to find his work clothes and told him to go get changed into them. Left alone in his son's room, Ben stared into Brad's closet. "I can't believe I'm going back to junior high," he said. "Damn, I hate starting out the day with math class."

In his father's room, Brad found a Henley undershirt, waffle cotton, a blue and white plaid flannel shirt, jeans and size 12 work boots.

Back in Brad's room, Ben froze as he pulled on clothes. How had he known about math class starting out the day. He hadn't even glanced at the schedule his son had provided. "How did I know that?" Ben whispered.

He stepped into the hall. "Brad! What's your first class?"

Brad, staring at his huge body in the mirror, answered in a distracted voice. "Uh, I can't remember, Dad. Maybe history?"

"Is it, is it math?"

"Yeah, that's it," Brad called back. "Dad, can you do complex fractions? We have a test in that today."

Ben felt a little nervous. "Just trust your first instincts," he said, as much to himself as to his son. "I can't explain it, but I think if we just don't trip ourselves up by thinking too much, we can fool everyone."

Brad stepped into the hall. "So, how do I look, Dad?"

"Hey, Ben! Move your butt!" Jake yelled from downstairs.

Ben stared at what looked at first like his own reflection. "Uh, you look, well, I think you'll fool Jake."

"Now, man! What's taking you?" Jake called again.

"Cool your jets, man. We'll be right down. Christ." Brad said. He turned to his father. "Did I say that right, Dad?"

"You sounded perfect," Ben said. In fact, his son sounded so convincing in his body that Ben felt definitely disturbed. He wondered if he could do as good a job impersonating Brad.

"Do these clothes look right for me?" Ben asked. "Well, for you?"

Brad looked carefully at his father.

"Dad, that is so dorky!"

"Thanks a lot."

Brad grabbed a pack of cigarettes and threw them to his father. "Put them in your pocket. You might need 'em."

Ben considered opposing his son, but changed his mind. "Let's go, Brad."

He led the way downstairs.

On the lower step, he stopped. "Dad, I'm not sure," his brow wrinkled in concentration. "Can we pull this off?"

"Brad, remember what I said. Don't think. Just react."

Jake met them at the foot of the stairs. He slapped Brad on the back. "Let's go, man."

"I'm ready," Brad said, slapping the big man's back in response. He turned and grinned as he looked at his dad. "Come on, son, and don't forget your books!"

Ben grabbed his son's backpack stuffed with books.

He hoisted it over his shoulder, and shuddered as he realized how naturally that felt.

As they headed toward Jake's truck, Brad instinctively climbed into the back seat.

Jake stared. "What are you doing, man?"

"He's just kidding," Brad said quickly. "I'll ride in back, Dad."

"Ready to be chauffeured to the site, man?" Jake asked.

Brad laughed. "Yeah, we'll have to make a detour to the squirt's school."

"Let's hit it," Jake said, settling behind the wheel of his pick-up.

From the back seat, Ben stared at the two huge bodies of the men in the cab of the truck.

"We'll stop in at Mickey D's man for some food," Jake said.

Jakes turned his head and glanced into the back seat. "What do you want, little man?"

"I could use a cup of coffee...black."

"And I want a kid's meal and a chocolate milk, please," Brad said.

Jake looked at his friend's kid. "Coffee will stunt your growth, kid."

"We wouldn't want that," Brad said with a smirk.

Jake looked at his friend and co-worker. "What did you say, Ben?"

"Uh, Brad...Brad will want a kid's meal and a chocolate milk...I'm right...uhhhh...Brad?

Ben sighed. "Yeah, Dad."

"Well, I'll have black coffee and the sausage McMuffin," Jake said as he pulled into the neighborhood McDonald's.

Jake spoke into the box and ordered the food. He chuckled after placing the order. "You guys...that was a good one. Pulling my leg, huh?"

"Fucking A Man!" Brad said in his deep adult voice.

They picked up the food and Brad handed his father the chocolate milk and kid's meal.

Ben looked at the food and frowned. To make matters worse, he had to watch his son drinking the coffee that should have been his.

"HMMMMM, it'sreally good. Dad never lets me drink coffee."

Jake laughed loudly. "You can cut it out now, guys."

"What?" Brad asked. "Cut out what?"

"Pulling my leg, man."

Jake started the truck again and pulled out onto the road. "Next stop...school! Hey, Ben. Does your boy have any special girlfriend yet?"

"Her name is Darlene. She's in my, I mean, in his algebra class. And she wears a bra and everything."

Ben leaned forward and poked his son in the ribs.

Jake laughed. "Darlene sounds like trouble."

Jake laughed some more and glanced over at his friend. "Hey, Ben. Maybe we ought to take Brad with us over to the lounge on Route 80 some evening after work."

"What lounge? I can go some night? Really?"

Ben poked his father again.

"Ouch. Stop that, Dad, uh, I mean Brad."

Jake shook his head. "You sure that's just coffee, man?"

"Mother's milk to me, J Man."

Jake pulled the truck over to the curb. Ben looked out the window and saw a terrible large, bleak building.

"Looks like we're here," Jake said. "Give Darlene my regards, little man."

"Yeah," Brad said. "Tell her I said hi..."

Brad' voice trailed off when he saw his dad glaring at him with his funny, boyish face.

"Dad, uh, can I see you outside the truck?" Ben said.

"You mean now?"

"Yes, please."

"Okay," Brad said. He opened the door of the truck.

"Don't take all day," Jake whispered. "We need to move."

Outside the truck, Ben lowered his voice to a whisper. "I really need some of your cigarettes."

"Um, ok." Brad fished out the pack. "How many you want?"

"I just need something," Ben said, embarrassed by his shaky voice. "This is more scary than I thought."

"Here, Dad. You want four of them." He counted out four cigarettes. "There's 1-2-3 and...4."

"Ben, cut the apron strings, man!" Jake joked. "We've got to go, big guy."

"Hey, cut me some slack," Brad growled in a husky voice. "The kid has questions."

He winked at his Dad. "Did that sound convincing, Dad?"

Ben gulped. "Yeah, it did," he admitted.

"Questions," Jake shot back. "That's what school's for."

"You sounded perfect, Dad. I mean son, I mean Brad."

"Gee thanks, Dad!" A goofy grin covered Brad's face. "Oh, I almost forgot. When do you want me to spring ya from school?"

Ben glanced at the huge building. "As soon as you can."

"All right, but I got those houses down by the glade to frame. I don't know when I'll be done."

"Brad, forget the fucking houses," Ben said, his voice cracking. "Just fake it. Get sick. But get back here. Soon!"

"Ok! Ok! Chill out, Dad. Gee, I got it covered!

"Ben!" Jake called impatiently.

"What?" Brad said. "All right, I'm coming, man."

He winked down at his dad. "Bye bye, son! Have a good day at school."

Ben watched his son hoist his adult body back into the truck.

He felt his stomach is churning.

He walked slowly toward the front entrance of the school.

"It's not like I haven't been here before," he whispered to himself. Twenty years ago!"

Some big guys walk past. They positively loomed over Ben in his new, immature body. He noticed his mouth gaping, clamped his jaws closed and turned to continue on his way.

He collided with what, at first, he thought must be a wall.

"Watch here you're going, you little shit," a huge guy, a senior fullback type, growled as he stepped aside and walked past Ben.

"Watch it yourself!" Ben snapped without thinking.

The enormous male turned quickly. "Are you talking to me?"

Ben's mouth dropped open again as he realized what he had done.

"What the fuck did you say to me, runt?" The huge jock asked as he grabbed Ben by the waist and brought the little guy up to his eye level.

"You ran into me!" Ben said, beginning to get very mad at the ignorant punk.

His anger dissipates rapidly, however, as he felt himself lifted off his feet.

"Put me down!" Ben ordered.

The muscular jock grinned. "Ooooooh, the little man's got a big mouth. All right. You want down?"

The enormous athlete slammed the smaller guy down, hard, on the floor.

Ben, his breath knocked out of his lungs, lay there. He felt the pain rush through his small body.

"Is whittle Brad hurt?" The big jock mocked him. And, to Ben's surprise, the large tormentor apparently knew his son.

At the same time, Ben remembered similar scenes from his own high school years, but with one major difference. Back then, he had been the big guy! Not this...not some runt.

The powerful jock stepped on Ben's body on his way down the school corridor. The big guy's friends laugh and go out of their way to trample their leader's victim.

One of the guys looked down in disgust. "What a wuss!"

Ben watched the huge guys walk into the school. He found himself wishing he could be big like they are.

"Mr. Monahan!"

Ben whirled. Crap! He recognized Brad's assistant principal.

"Late for your class, aren't you, Monahan?"

"Yeah. I'm headed that way."

"Headed that way, what?" The authoritative principal asked.

"As fast as I can?" Ben ventured.

"Mr. Monahan, are you bucking for detention today or what?" The large man said. "I have a name and a salutation.

"Use them, please!"

"No," Ben objected. "I got attacked before I even got in the damn door."

"Profanity, too," the assistant principal chided. "I'm afraid I'm gonna have to send a note home to your father."

"That's a laugh," Ben muttered.

"Excuse me!"

"Nothing."

"Nothing...who?

Ben swallowed hard. "Nothing, sir."

The principal grinned. "Better. Much better."

Meanwhile, Ben's son and his co-worker Jake headed toward the construction site in Jake's truck.

"That boy's a little on the small side, ain't he, Ben?" Jake asked.

"I'm not so....I mean, well, hell, he's only 12, Mr. Con..., uhhh. Jake."

Brad is feeling nervous, and Jake noticed his friend's fidgeting.

"Yeah, but you and I were bigger than that at 12."

"Sure," Brad said. He clasped his hands in his lap.

"Something the matter, man?"

"I'm okay, just a little, I dunno. I feel kinda weird."

"Yeah?"

Jake pulled the truck onto the site. "Hell, there's that SOB Carruthers."

Brad doesn't recognize the root of his antsy behavior. His body is craving another cigarette.

"Yeah, Dad thinks he's a real jerk!

Jake turned his head toward Brad. "What?" Jake asked. "Oh no. He's headed this way."

Brad, silently, wishes that his Dad was present.

Jake rolled down the truck window.

"Connors, I need you and Monahan to make a run over to Smithville," Paul Carruthers said. "A delivery truck broke down over there, and I need those materials."

"Fuck you, Carruthers," Brad said. "Jake and me gotta finish framing those houses down by the lake."

"Wow!" Brad thought. "Did I just say that?"

Carruthers straightened his spine. "Monahan, I know that you think you've got the manager's blessing for everything, but this comes straight from his office. Now keep your butt in that truck and head to Smithville!"

Brad leaned over Jake, instinctively acting like Ben Monahan would. Jake stopped his friend. "We're going."

He rolled up the window. "Damn, Ben. You're gonna go too far some day!" Jake said. "This is better than framing houses anyway! It's a three hour round-trip road trip."

"Shit, man. He is a total, butt-kissing asshole!" Brad exclaimed.

In his thoughts, he excitedly marveled at the words coming out of his mouth. All the right phrases spilled out of his mouth.

"Yeah, you don't have to tell me," Jake said. "I'd like to really screw that asshole."

Jake noticed that his friend is still acting very nervous. Brad still can't put his finger on the reason for his jitters, as he's not used to the sensation of nicotene craving.

Jake helped out by producing his own cigarette and lighting up.

"I say we just take our sweet time," Jake announced. "We don't have anywhere to be anytime soon, right?"

"Fucking A, man!" Ben said. "Hey, Jake, can I have a cigarette?"

"Sure. But what happened to your pack? Forget it at the house?"

"I can! Gee, thanks." Brad said. "Oh, wait. My Dad. No, I mean, uhhh, Brad tossed me one on the way out. It's in my pocket

"Why you need to bum from me, then?" Jake asked in irritation.

Brad, not being at all familiar with the "etiquette" amongst smokers, made an awkward apology, sensing Jake's irritation.

Brad produced a cigarette from his own pack, flicked the zippo and lit it. He inhaled deeply.

"Oh, yeah." Brad exchaled. "This is so much better than school."

"That's it," Jake said. "Forget Carruthers. Let's just relax. We've got nowhere to be."

"So, Jake?" Brad inhaled deeply. "What do we gotta do when we get there?

"I guess just load the stuff up in my truck and head back here." Jake answered. "We've made trips like this before, big guy. Where's your head this morning?"

"I'm worried about, Dad," Brad said absently.

"Your dad?"

"Yeah." Brad took a deep draw.

"Ain't he in Florida?" Jake asked. "Nothing wrong is there?"

"No, my grandpa lives there. My Dad is..." Brad let his voice trail off. He realized he had screwed up in front of Jake.

"Uh, no. I mean Brad. Yeah, it's just the kid. Brad. I'm worried about Brad."

"Well, he does seem a little backward," Jake agreed. "Doesn't seem like a chip off the old block."

"I'm not backward," Brad said. "I mean, he's not backward. He's smarter than you are."

"Take it easy," Jake said. "I didn't mean he was stupid. He actually looks a little too smart for his own good. You know what we used to do to the dork kids, man."

"I'm not a....Uhhhhhh... he's not a dork, Jake. He is just a kid right now."

Jake frowned, but Brad continued. "And I'm gonna be just as big as my dad one day. You'll see."

Jake frowned again. "Are you feeling all right, man?"

Meanwhile, back at school, Ben entered his son's math class.

The teacher looked up from his desk. "Mr. Monahan. So, you decided to join us after all?"

Ben walked into the class, at least 10 minutes late.

He scanned for an empty seat and found one in the front of a row.

"Now that we're all assembled," the math teacher said. He is clearly annoyed that Ben is still getting settled.

Ben tried to restrain his movements. He turned his eyes to the front.

"Now, class, let's resume yesterday's lesson on complex fractions." The teacher's eyes narrowed as they focused on Ben.

"Mr. Monahan, up to the board," the teacher ordered.

"And solve the equation I've written there."

Ben felt everyone in the classroom turn their attention to him. For some reason, that caused his mind to almost go blank. He left his seat and, quite without any enthusiasm, walked toward the board.

"Well?" The teacher adopted a feigned tone of patience. "Are you waiting for an engraved invitation?"

His back turned to everyone in the room, Ben screwed his eyes closed. His hand reached out and the numbers started flowing.

"Wow," Ben thought to himself. "Brad's a really smart kid."

"Hmmm," the teacher said. "Well done, Mr. Monahan."

Ben stood sheepishly at the front of the class, beaming at hearing himself praised. But, he thought to himself, I didn't solve the problem. That was Brad. Brad's mind exerting itself and helping Ben function in this new body.

"Mr. Monahan, perhaps you should return to your seat now."

The class roared in laughter.

Ben, confused, shook his head. He felt very disoriented, almost as if he had lost himself for a moment.

He made his way back toward his desk.

[cal-puddies]

little toes || calum hood

return of the real smut. cigarette series. let’s hear those thoughts. :)

Cal’s brow furrows as he tries to put a new diaper on Flynn. The nurse lets out a noise of frustration, this was the third diaper change that he had failed. At least he could put her in the car seat just fine.

“I’m sorry princess, I’ll figure it out.” He coos as the nurse gently pushes him away.

The doctor walks in, pushing you in a wheelchair after an exam, just as the nurse hands the newborn to Cal to hold against his bare chest.

“Happy to report, momma is good to go home.” She smiles.

Flynn has been ready since day three but the doctors had been worried about you so they’d kept you both. You’d been a little more lethargic than they’d hoped.

“Alright!” Calum grins. “Finally get to take both of my girls home.”

“Did you figure out the diaper thing yet?” You smirk, getting up from the wheelchair.

“No.” The nurse says matter of factly before turning on her heel and leaving. She likes you, but she’s had enough of Calum.

The doctor leaves you and Cal alone with Flynn, you start to pack the things Cal had brought for you, while Cal holds the baby.

“The guys postponed the rest of tour. Ashton can’t wait to come meet her.” He smiles, kissing the top of her head.

You give him a soft smile. You loved Flynn, and you loved seeing Cal with her, but you felt distanced from her. You couldn’t breastfeed, your body wasn’t producing milk, which didn’t surprise your doctor or even the lactation specialist after reviewing your history. “He’s gonna be good with her.” You cross the room and kiss the back of her head. Calum holds the back of your neck and kisses your forehead. “I’m excited to go home. I want real food and whiskey and to sleep in our bed.” You whisper.

“I’m excited to take you home. Duke is excited to meet his new human.” You give him another tired smile. “You ok baby? Why don’t you hold her while I finish packing your stuff?”

He gently hands off the baby. “Are you gonna leave your shirt off?” You try to look innocent.

“Just for you baby.” He winks. You take a seat and hold Flynn where you can look at her. Cal knows to be worried by the look in your eye. The doctor had already addressed both of you about it and you asked Cal for a couple weeks, before you wanted to address it. He agreed, because he was going to be around every day, because the rest of the tour was postponed.

She starts to fuss, it’s a little cold in the room and she wasn’t swaddled because she was supposed to be cuddled to her daddy’s chest, so you pull her in and hold her against your chest. Cal relaxes a bit at the motion.

Duke was very curious about the newborn and more importantly, he was extremely gentle.

And then she was always in Cal’s arms, he’d hand her off to you if you wanted but he never assumed that’s what you wanted.

And that lasted until Ash came over to meet her. He brought Luke with him and they were both instantly in love. And they both came with way more baby things and tons more diapers too.

“She’s precious.” Ashton says, staring down at the little girl who’s the spitting image of her father.

“Hold her?” Cal asks his friends.

“I want to.” Ash volunteers first and Cal hands her over. You knew Ash wanted a family but this definitely solidified it. “Little Flynn… first 5sos baby.” He says quietly to her and everyone laughs. Cal looks at you and smiles, and pulls you close to sit next to him. She fusses a little but Ash rocks her and hums the same lullaby Calum had been since she was born. “I’m gonna be the best uncle to you.” He promises. He kisses the top of her head and hands her to Luke.

“Hi little Flynn.” He greets. “You look so much like your daddy.” He coos. “You’ll be pretty like your mama though.” He nuzzles his nose to hers and kisses her forehead. “I love her so much.” He says, looking at you and Cal.

Cal grins, “that’s how we felt.” He squeezes your knee.

“She’s so sweet.” Ashton says.

“She’s already got Cal wrapped around her tiny fingers.” You chuckle.

“It’s true. She’s my little princess, she so much as whimpers and I’m right there.”

You gently bump his shoulder with yours, “you’ve always been attentive like that.” You smirk.

He grins and shakes his head at you. “Stop it. They don’t need to hear that.” He presses his lips to yours.

Ash is there, holding her, six weeks later when you get back from a doctors appointment.

“Hey baby.” Calum greets you. “Everything good?” He asks. You hold up to prescription that your doctor had prescribed for the post partum depression everyone knew you were suffering from, but everyone was super supportive.

“Everything’s great.” You push up on your toes to kiss his cheek, and whisper, “got the all clear for sex too.” You wink at him as you pull away. “How was she?” You ask, kissing her cheek and rubbing her back while Ash holds her.

“She just woke up.” He explains.

“And I’m fixing her bottle.”  Cal says. “Why don’t you go take a nap? We can take care of Flynn. And you need the rest.”

When you wake up, an hour and a half later, your phone is blowing up. It’s all instagram notifications so you open Instagram and click on the first comment that mentions you. It takes you to post Cal made. It’s a few pictures. The first is of Flynn and Duke’s feet. The second is of you and Calum, smiling widely at each other, something Ash had taken, and the third is of the guys gathered around her, she’s in Ash’s arm and you can only see the top of her head and them smiling down at her.

Baby girl Hood, her little toes, her favorite cuddle buddy, her beautiful mum, and the reason 5sos postponed the rest of the tour. Thank you to everyone for their love and patience. So excited for my little family to grow together. He’d posted and tagged you.

You’d left it up to Cal, whether and when he wanted to announce it, it was bound to come out eventually. And it warmed your heart to see all the love. There were also tons of demands to see her face and know her name.

You put on pants and head back to the living room, the house was fairly quiet, but it always seemed to be even when the guys were over since Flynn came home.

“Hey beautiful.” Cal greets with a big smile on his face. You look around the room and notice there were a whole bunch of people over, the guys, Crys, Roy, Mitchy, and a few of the girls you didn’t know that well. Crys is holding Flynn, cooing at her. Cal pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you. “Should’ve let you know so many people were over.” He kisses your cheek. “But I figured we’d wear her out and then you and I could have a night, since she’ll sleep so well.” He grins into a kiss.

“Can I see her?” You ask, and Crys immediately agrees, bringing the little girl over to you. “Hi little princess.” You greet the baby. She smiles up at you and it’s the first time you can remember enjoying having her in your arms. You smile back at her. “Little Flynn. Baby girl Hood.” You whisper quietly to her.

Calum grins wide, “you saw it?”

“My phone was blowing up from it. It was so sweet Cal.”

“I know we talked about not posting pics of her face…”

“It’s perfect.” You grin and lean in to kiss him.

“Can I get you a drink baby?”

“I’d love one.” You nod.

Cal talks the majority of people into leaving around 6, leaving the three of you with just the guys and Crys.

Ash is holding Flynn, feeding her, which seems to be common these days.

“See you woulda been fine if she was yours.” Luke points out as Ash holds her to burp her.

“I’m glad she’s Cal’s. I don’t know if I’m ready for this full time.” He admits. “Someone mentioned food, I know you don’t expect us to eat baby formula as well.” He looks at you and Cal.

The two of you are practically in your own world, a small, quiet conversation, his hands are on you, and you’re grinning at him. You wish you could kiss him, but you don’t want it to be weird for your guests.

“They probably haven’t had more than a minute alone since she came home.” Ash mentions, rocking Flynn. “I mean he said she sleeps well, but they’re both exhausted.”

“Guess we could try giving them a night off one of these day.” Luke says. “Uncle Luke and and Uncle Ash to the rescue.” He gently grabs her little foot.

“We should probably figure out how to put her to bed first.” He mentions. “Hey guys, sorry to interrupt… but I think little one is ready for bed. And we’re hungry.”

“Hmm.. sorry Ash!” You say, sadly drawn from your conversation with Cal. “We did mention dinner.” Your stomach growls.

“I’ll take her to bed.” Cal stands and leans over to kiss you, slipping you tongue. You let out a little moan against his mouth and intertwine your fingers in his hair. He pulls away and grins at you, “later baby.” He whispers and presses his lips to your forehead. “Why don’t you guys figure out dinner?”

He goes to take Flynn from Ash but him and Luke insist on helping, and Michael excuses himself to go with.

You and Crys start talking about what to get for dinner until you hear the guys singing the lullaby Cal’s always humming to Flynn.

“Do you know this song?” You ask Crys.

“Cal’s never played it for you?” She asks.

“No. He’s been humming it since we brought her home.”

“It’s her lullaby, he wrote it for her.” She smiles.

“Why is Michael… like mad. It’s like he doesn’t want Cal to have a family.”

“He’s afraid Cal’s gonna want to be with his family more than Cal wants to be in the band. Listen, no one thought Cal would be the first one with a kid, and so far he clearly loves being a dad and I think that worries Mike.” She sighs. “He’s trying though. He knows Cal is so happy.”

“I don’t want him to go back on tour.” You whine a little.

“I think that’s a perfectly normal feeling but it’s 10 days and Southy and I will be here and we can be here” she taps the table, “at any time.”

“Thanks Crys.”

“What’d you pretty ladies decide?” Luke asks, he’s the first one back in but the other three are right behind him.

Cal sits and you cuddle against him, resting your head on his chest. He drapes his arm around you and kisses the top of your head. “You ok?” He whispers to you and you nod your head.

“We decided… Mike gets to decide.” Crys laughs.

He groans but pulls out his phone to pick something.

“I can send them home if you wanna get our night started. You look tired.” Cal whispers to you.

“Mmm mmm. It’s totally ok. I like having our friends around.”

“I was worried about you.” He admitted. “I shouldn’t have been. I should’ve known. It’s always taken you a little while to adjust when your life changes drastically.”

You furrow your brow, “D’you think I was just gonna leave you with Flynn?” You chuckle.

“It crossed my mind.” He gives you a soft smile. “You’re still my best girl.”

“I love you Cal… thanks for being so supportive.”

“Of course baby. Thank you for the cute baby.” He smirks.

Most everyone leaves by 9:45, Luke being the only one left and only because he was holding Flynn, feeding her again. But he burped her, changed her and put her back down without any help. And then he wished you both a goodnight.

“My love.” Cal says, watching you clean up the dining room. “Leave that. Let me take you to bed.”

“Why don’t you help me instead and you can talk dirty to me while we clean.” You wink.

He comes over and wraps his arms around you. “Or…” He kisses your neck, “We can go to bed… let me take care of you, and I’ll take care of this and Flynn in the morning.”

“Can you take care of me in the morning too?”

“Depends on what care you think you’ll need.” He smirks.

“More dick, probably.” You shrug.

“God baby… c’mon. Lemme take you to bed. Lemme get you naked, taste you, make you cum for me… don’t you miss cumming for me?” It’s gruff, and his breath is hot on your neck. His hands cup your breasts over your shirt. “Been too long for daddy too baby girl, know your wet, dying to have my tongue and fingers work you again.” His nose skims over your neck, teeth tug at your earlobe. “Baby girl…” He taunts, “you really gonna make me beg you for it?”

You turn your head to Calum and press your lips to his. “Fuck Calum.” You moan, turning your body fully toward him, “take me to bed.” His hands quickly find your thighs and he pulls you off your feet, carrying you to the bedroom. He easily turns off the lights while carrying you.

He sets you to your feet the second the door is closed and he pushes you against it. His lips press to yours and then move along your jaw, and you try desperately to get any friction you can. “Baby girl.” He groans at you. “Want daddy’s cock?” He pushes your leggings down.

“Uh-huh, please daddy.” You whimper. His fingers swipe through your wetness and he grins.

“Already soaked for daddy.” His lips push forcefully back to yours and he tugs your shirt over your head, followed by his. His fingers tweak your nipples and he massages your breasts before turning you around and pressing your front against the bedroom door.

“Yeah… daddy…” you whimper. You look over your shoulder and watch him drop to his knees, he pushes your legs a little further apart, and then his tongue is slicking through your folds.

He works a hickey into your thigh and then gently sinks his teeth into your ass cheek. “Daddy can’t stand this baby girl. Bed. Hands and knees.” You scramble to the bed and get into the position he’s asked for. “This ok sweet girl?”

“Mmhmm… perfect daddy.”

“God I love your sweet ass baby girl.” You feel the bed dip as Cal settles behind you, his hand gently smooths over your skin, and then he gives you exactly what you expect, and smacks your ass. You let out a moan, and Cal uses his fingers to gently rub around your lips, and he spreads them, “you are so wet, pretty girl, did I do this to you again? Of course I did. Daddy knows.” His hand comes down on your ass again. You let out a whimper and Cal chuckles. “You love this, dontcha baby?”

“Mmhmm.” You agree, enjoying the feel of his hand on your ass again.

“Missed this too. Missed your noises. Missed your lips… wasn’t expecting you to go for this tonight though.” He muses.

“I just miss your body against mine.” You say quietly.

“I’ll do better baby.” He promises. “For now though…” he doesn’t give you anymore warning; just slides in. He lets out a low groan as he does so. His pace starts slow and you drop your face to the pillows. “You ok?” Cal asks, working his rhythm up.

“I’m so fuckin good Cal… so… good.” You breathe. “Please don’t stop… harder.”

“You got it baby.” And he delivers, snapping his hips hard against yours, he reaches for your shoulder and pulls you up against his body. His lips start working against your neck, his hands are everywhere.

“Calum…” you moan.

“Oh fuck baby.” He groans, “when you moan like that…”

Cal pulls out and you whimper, “not done.”

Cal chuckles a little, “I know baby, me either.” He gets off the bed and reaches for you, pulling you against him and carrying you to the wall. “Needed to look at you.” He explains, hips resuming their old pace.

You keep one arm wrapped around his neck, fingers in his hair, the other is pinned to the wall, fingers intertwined with his. You press your forehead to Cal’s. He gently kisses you despite the hard, fast pace of his hips.

“That’s it… cum for me.” He coaxes, knowing you’re close without you having to say a word. He bites your lip and then kisses your bottom lip. “C’mon baby.” You grip his hair and drop your head against his shoulder, letting your teeth sink into his collarbone. “Fuck I love that feeling.” He groans. Cal’s not far behind you, quickly spilling his cum into you with a gruff moan in your ear. He gently pushes the two of you away of the wall so he can hold you. “Damn baby. I love you.” He says quietly, smoothing your hair and pressing his lips to your cheek.

“I love you too Cal.” You tighten your grip around him, and kiss his shoulder.

He sets you down and steps back, reaching to hold one of your hands. “Hot as ever.” He moans, bringing your hand to his lips so he can kiss your knuckles. His free hand goes between your thighs, pulling some of the mixed juices out with it. He holds his fingers to your lips and you gladly clean them. “So good for me.” His thumb gently pulls at your lip and he leans in to kiss you. “Wanna shower with me baby?” He mumbles against your lips.

“Absolutely.” You agree with a small grin.

Cal doesn’t wake you in the morning which is perfectly fine because you were against the wall in the shower and then begging him to use his tongue on you an hour later in bed. And he’d woken you up at 4 for one more slow, soft round before you curled back up together naked until Flynn woke up.

You pull one of his shirts on and a pair of panties and then go to the bedroom door to listen. Cal was talking and singing and all you heard were little sounds from Flynn, so you figured it must just be the two of them.

“Hey, there’s our beautiful mama.” He greets.

“Hey handsome.” You give Cal a quick kiss. “Hey little Hood.” You gently rub her little tummy.

“How ya doing this morning?” Cal smirks as he hands you a cup of coffee.

“Sore. Very sore.” You admit.

“Poor thing.”

“I know! Jeez, you’d think I got good dick last night.” You wink and take a sip of your coffee.

“You did get good dick last night and this morning… remember the dick that got ya pregnant.” He gently tugs the shirt to pull you closer for a kiss.

“Oh… hmm are we sure this little baby is yours? Could be Ash’s.” You shrug.

“That little girl could not be more mine.” He laughs.

“She’s so sweet.” You smile over at her, “and she’s definitely yours… look at these chubby lil cheeks.” You rub her little cheeks, “and all this black hair, just like daddy. Huh sweet love? Definitely daddy’s.”

Cal wraps his arms around your waist, his nose skims up your neck and his lips push just below your ear, “someone else is daddy’s too.” He whispers.

You turn your head and press your lips to his, “you're a mess.” You whisper against his lips.

“You’re the reason I’m a mess.” His lips drag along your jaw before he kisses your cheek.

Cals large hands wrap around your daughters feet, and the contrast is almost comical. He kisses her little feet. “Little toes here is about ready for a nap, mama. You wanna put her down and meet daddy back in our bedroom?”

“Yeah daddy. Sure.” You quirk an eyebrow at him.

He winks and then kisses your forehead. “Hey also, Mali and my mom will be getting here while I’m gone, just a couple days before i get back…. but they’ll be here.” He mentions.

“Ohh just the girls huh?”

“If I could change it, I would.” He chuckles. “Put our little one down and come see me.” He holds his fingers in a ‘v’ up to his mouth and flicks his tongue through it. “Bet that got you so wet.” He smirks.

tag list: @kaxseychill @musicsavedme-00 @que-serasara @abitloudforanaccousticset

cigarette || corona || rolling papers || black on black|| stuck || navy button down || a hotter touch || pancakes || the second thing || ours || losing you || little toes || holy water || date night || me, you and little hood || five years later

masterlist || ashton || calum || luke || michael

wanna be tagged? go here

[tonysttank]

safety | s.p. | part 2

a/n: hi everyone! Part 2 finally done. I do plan on updating this story at least once a week, possibly more if I am able to, so if you would like to be put on a taglist for this fic like and reblog this so I can add you and you wont miss a part J also this is currently set pre season 2, so keep that in mind.

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: brief mention of underage drinking, cussing

Read part 1 here: Part 1

Your name: submit What is this?

***

“love made the danger in you look like safety” –rupi kaur, milk and honey

  ***

Fangs, Sweet Pea, and Y/N went back into Fangs room to wait until the party started. Y/N carried in her overnight bag and set it next to the door. Sweet Pea eyed it suspiciously, wondering if Y/N and Fangs were more than just best friends, as they claimed to be. He definitely hoped not.

“So,” Y/N began, standing next to the door with her arms crossed as she looked at the two boys. “Tell me everything I need to know about the cliché town of Riverdale.” She said dramatically.

“Well, obviously you’re gonna be sticking with us and the rest of the Serpents.” Fangs told her, glancing at Sweet Pea. “We’ll take care of you and that way you won’t have anything to worry about, really.”

Sweet Pea nodded in agreeance with his friend. “The Southside stays pretty chill, unless there’s some shit going on between us and the Ghoulies.”

“The Ghoulies?” Y/N asked, a playful smile on her face.

“Yeah, that’s the rival gang here. They’re pretty nasty, and are deep into drug dealing so don’t get involved.” Fangs said, a look of distaste on his face.

“And what about school?” Y/N asked again, sitting on the bed with the two boys.

“Its trash,” Sweet Pea replied, rolling his eyes. “Don’t expect anything. The teachers don’t give a shit and neither do most of the students.” Y/N nodded in response, turning to look at him. She gave him a small smile, which he returned, and a blush crept onto her cheeks.

The three of them sat in Fangs’ bed talking, laughing, and telling stories. As they sat there happily Sweet Pea couldn’t help but steal a great number of glances at Y/N, her smile made him smile and feel warm inside. The way that this girl was making him feel after such an insanely short amount of time scared him, especially because he had no idea what she was thinking about him. He desperately hoped it was something good. Sweet Pea wasn’t the best with girls, despite what people may think. Sure, he flirted occasionally with girls at the Wyrm, and he definitely wasn’t a virgin, but he wasn’t the player everyone thought he was. Maybe it was because he was afraid of change and not the best when meeting new people, but he had definitely never had a girlfriend. As Sweet Pea looked at the gorgeous girl sitting in front of him with her legs crossed and her hand on Fangs’ shoulder as she laughed at something stupid he had just said, he felt a little hopeless. Y/N seemed perfect, and Sweet Pea definitely wasn’t. Not that it even mattered, they had only just met an hour ago, and for all he knew she could have a boyfriend back in Greendale.

Sweet Pea sighed, getting off the bed. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” He told Y/N and Fangs as he walked out of the room.

Fangs looked at Y/N with a knowing smile.

“What?” She asked, moving her head back because of the sly smile on his face.

“He likes you.” Fangs said simply and with a smirk.

“What do you mean?” Y/N asked, scrunching her eyebrows together, not understanding what he was implying.

“You didn’t see the way he looked at you in the living room when I introduced you guys?”

“Um, no?” Y/N laughed, her tone unsure.

“He fell in love with you right out there.”

“Fangs, what the fuck are you talking about? No, he didn’t. You’re just messing with me because you know I think he’s sexy as hell.” Y/N laughed.

“Okay, first of all, ew. Second of all, yes. I know SP better than anyone else.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Fangs. I don’t believe you.”

“You’ll seeeeeeeee” Fangs said, poking her arm.

***

It was a few hours later and the annual Fogarty Christmas party was in full swing. Toni had arrived, and she and Y/N clicked immediately. Fangs had spent the majority of the party taking his friend around and introducing her to his friends and family that she hadn’t met yet. Eventually, though, he left her with his Dad, and Y/N and Paul caught up, talking mainly about her family’s upcoming move to the Southside.

On the other side of the room, Fangs, Sweet Pea, and Toni stood in a corner with Red Solo cups in their hand.

“So, you guys love her, right?” Fangs anxiously asked his friends what they thought about Y/N. He had been dying to know what they thought of her since she arrived, and now that the three of them were alone it was the perfect opportunity.

“Duh, Fangs. She’s like you, but just with a vagina.” Toni laughed, glancing over at her new friend across the room. “She’s gonna fit in just fine around here, I think.”

“Thank God,” Fangs began, a sigh of relief falling from his mouth. “I was so worried you guys wouldn’t like her, and if that happened I don’t know what I would do.”

“What do you think of her, Sweets?” Toni asked, craning her neck to look up at the tall, dark haired Serpent with her eyebrow raised.

He hesitated for a minute, not knowing if he should tell his best friends that he was already majorly crushing on Y/N or if he should keep it to himself. His hesitation brought forth a series of snickers from his two friends, who both failed in trying to mask them by taking a sip of the alcoholic drinks they harbored in their cups. Sweet Pea rolled his eyes, getting somewhat defensive at their teasing nature.

“It’s okay if you like her.” Toni said, a small smile on her lips as she reached out and touched Sweet Pea’s leather clad arm.

“Who ever said anything about liking her?” Sweet Pea snapped back at her, a look of annoyance gracing his face. “I just met her like a few hours ago, so I don’t know why the fuck you guys are coming at me like I’m about to drop on one knee and marry the girl.”

“Okay, dude,” Fangs said, holding his hands up in surrender. “We were just messing with you. No need to get all hostile.”

Sweet Pea rolled his eyes, obviously he would not be telling anyone about his building feelings for Y/N, as his friends were too immature to take him seriously and not embarrass him. “Whatever, I’m going outside for a smoke.” He said, and stomped away.

“Yikes,” Toni said to Fangs.

“I mean,” Fangs began in response, “Obviously he likes her, or he wouldn’t have just acted like that.”

“I know, but you know how he is, especially with girls and shit.” The pink haired girl replied with a shrug. Fangs was quiet, sipping on his drink thoughtfully. “You think they’d be good together?” Toni asked again after a moment of silence.

Fangs looked at her. “Honestly, I’m not sure. They could either be really bad for each other or really good.”

“I suppose only time will tell.” Toni said before downing the rest of her drink. “Wanna go chill in your room?” She asked him as she tossed her cup into the trash can nearby.

Fangs nodded and the two of them weaved through the crowd of people until they finally made it into Fangs’ room.

***

Y/N had been talking to Fangs’ dad for quite some time now, and even though she loved Paul, she desperately wanted to go hang out with her new friends. She had noticed Sweet Pea walk out the front door a little while ago and just assumed that Toni and Fangs would be with him, so after excusing herself from Paul, she went in search of the trio. As she stepped outside, she took a deep breath, her lungs thanking her for the fresh air. She turned and looked to her left, only to be met with a sulky looking Sweet Pea with a cigarette hanging from his lips. She approached him slowly, shoving her hands in her pockets.

“Hey, I was wondering where you guys all went.” She said, a happy tone in her voice.

He looked over at her, taking a long drag from the cigarette in his mouth. “What are you talking about?” He said gruffly.

Y/N was taken aback slightly at his tone, since he had been so sweet to her up until this point. “Oh,” She started sheepishly. “I just thought Fangs and Toni were with you.”

He shook his head, “Don’t know where they are.”

Y/N looked at him for a minute before responding, “Are you okay?”

He immediately looked up at her with narrowed eyes, surprised at her question. Based on the way he was looking at her, Y/N immediately regretted prying.

“Sorry, I-I didn’t mean to pry.” She said nervously, taking a step back. “I’ll leave you alone now.”

Before she could turn around to leave, Sweet Pea grabbed her hand. Y/N looked up at his dark brown eyes, waiting for him to say something.

“I’m not okay.” He said lowly, dropping his cigarette and squishing it with his boot.

“Why?” Y/N replied breathlessly, the intense and unreadable look he was giving her making her palms sweat.

Sweet Pea didn’t respond instantly, instead he stared at this gorgeous girl in front of him, completely mesmerized by her.

“Sweet Pea?” Y/N asked again, drawing him out of his daze.

“I’m not okay because I just met you, but you’re making me feel a type of way I’ve never felt before. It’s fucking terrifying, but I don’t want the feeling to go away.” He said barely above a whisper, his eyes not meeting hers.

Y/N was surprised, thinking back to what Fangs had told her earlier. She didn’t know what to say, so she just blurted out the first thing that came to her mind. “Why does the way I make you feel scare you?” She asked, taking a step closer to the tall boy, their bodies touching now.

“Because I’ve known you for less than 12 hours, and I already know that I would fucking die for you, Y/N.”

His words made her suck in a breath, and she stared deeply into his eyes, relishing in the intimate moment they were sharing. She didn’t know how to express the feelings she was now drowning in, so she did the only thing she felt was right in the moment.

She kissed him.