#what the fuck my absolute disappointment as i sat in my car repeating my confusion over and over for 1+ minutes

[threadmonster]

I think a (potentially) generation defining thing is how you feel about the phasing out of internal optical/DVD/CD (however you say it) readers in laptops.

I do not want to have to buy an extra external device that has to be plugged in. That (in my opinion) is way more inconvenient than a laptop that's heavier.

I have plenty of physical media I still want to enjoy! (I also want to collect more before things disappear.) I already own them!! so, I'm sorry, the only way I'm experiencing it digitally is if I can rip it or if I download it by other means.

[sin-of-jess]

Sub!Yayorozu x Dom Male reader car sex pls

A drive in theater was a rarity nowadays in Japan, but there was a deal going on that cut the price in half if you were a licensed hero. Yoyorozu had heard from friends about the movie, and the two of us were disappointed when we were almost halfway into the film and it hadn't been able to keep our attention.

Her face was in my neck, kissing and biting just under my jaw as my hands roamed her body freely. The front seats were pulled all the way up and angled down, once giving us space to watch the film unobstructed and now giving us room to mess around. I push her away and lean away from her, "Expose your chest to me Momo," I tell her. I only called her that when we were being dirty, and I was ready to make her get absolutely filthy.

Even in the dark I can see her cheeks flush as she pulls her v-neck shirt up higher on her chest. "Someone might see me!"

"Then give them a show while you do it," I tell her, crossing my arms and waiting. She glances around, the only people around were paying attention to the movie in their own vehicles. She slowly pulls the shirt down, her bra popping out. "I want to see how hard your nipples are." I tell her.

She bites her bottom lip as she gives it a moment, then nods her head. She releases the front clasp and lets the natural heaviness of her breasts expose her. As I figured her nipples are hard and I lean forward just enough to let my fingertips swirl around her left nipple. The area around her nipples tighten as they grow even harder at my touch.

"Give me your panties," I order next, and she's less hesitant than before to shimmy the tiny pink pair of panties off her hips and pull them out from her skirt. When she hands them to me I can already feel that they're damp, and I enjoy how she squirms as I bring them to my face and let the smell of her waft around me. "Does exposing yourself to me like this make you wet Momo?"

She looks away from me bashfully, "A little..."

I use her panties to swat her leg, "What was that?"

She realizes her mistake, "A little bit, S-Sir..."

"Why don't you show me how horny you are? Lift up your skirt and let me see your pussy." I tell her, tossing her panties back in forth in my hands. Again she looks out the windows before she settles in her seat and pulls her skirt up to expose part of her slit. "Spread your legs, baby,"

She opens her legs painfully slow, the petals of her pussy slowly opening up to expose the juices that have collected within them. She's biting her lip again, her eyes on everything around us.

"Turn around," I command. Confusion pops onto her face, but she cautiously turns around and keeps her body low to the seat. I grab her by the elbows and lift her up, pushing her chest out and into view of anyone who was to look into the car.

"Y-Y/N, someone could see me!" She says, panic in her voice. I flip her skirt over her ass so I can watch as I run my fingers through her pussy folds, collecting the juices before climbing over her to rub the liquid onto her nipple.

I repeat the action with her other nipple, twisting and pulling on her wet nipples and enjoying the moans she lets out. "Do you think they'll whip their cock out and watch you while we do it?" I move back to continue playing with her pussy, releasing my cock at the same time as I continue to tease her with my words. "I bet they'll stare at your bouncing tits while I fuck you into submission."

"Y/N!" She shouts out, shocked and secretly aroused at my taunts.

I spank her ass, "Did I say you could speak?" She shakes her head. "Good girl," I tell her as I rub the spot I had slapped. When my fingers find her pussy again her back arches. "Look at how desperate you are, Momo," I continue, lining myself up with where I know her hole is. When I thrust my entire member in her she moans loudly. "Ahh, are you trying to draw attention to yourself?"

"N-no... I just-ah! Wasn't expecting it," She moans out softly. She's so tight around me, and watching her get worked up had made a big effect on me as well. I reach around, easily finding her engorged clit and putting pressure while I circled it. My body is pushing into hers, causing her breasts to be pushed up against the glass as she tries to grab at anything around her.

I grab her by the back of her neck, pushing her face into the glass more as I speed up my thrusts and my fingers. I can tell she's about to cum, so I lean in to whisper in her ear, "Cum on my fucking cock," I tell her, pounding into her hard enough that the car is starting to shake. She's far too gone to care, incoherent garble coming from her as I tear her pussy up.

Her moans had been soft, but the moment her pussy clenched up in orgasm she lets out a squeal. A few pumps later and I follow suit, groaning into her ear as I fill her with my seed. When my cock starts to soften I pull her back with me to sit down. Her back is against my chest and I've got full access to her body. My hand hadn't left her pussy and I shove a finger inside of her and slowly push the cum deeper inside her while my free hand lazily sat on her chest.

"Y/n..." She weakly moans out, her sensitive pussy convulsing around my finger as I gently fuck her with it.

"You're such a pretty little slut, Momo,"

[harrylilies]

The Royal Series | Pt. I

The Royal Series Masterlist

I posted this series in 2018 but in late 2019, my blog got hacked and I lost all my work. This is me reposting the written chapters of The Royal Series after crying to my husband after I lost it along with all my writing on here. Enjoy. x

It had been long since you had let your hair down for a night.

You longed for a lowkey life, although you knew that the royal protocols you had been following since you were a child were far too embedded in you – yet, you knew how to have your fun.

You found fun in your trips to get milk and cheese yourself, in the strolls you went on in the early morning, when you attended a friend’s wedding, when your oldest brother wasn’t Prince William who was close in line, but a protective brother whom you teased for being old, when your ginger brother, Harry, patted you on the back and helped you with the plans that would make your grandma, the Queen, not necessarily pleased, when you danced with your best friend, and,

when you listened to music; which explained where you were that moment.

The arena was lit, some people who passed by you walking past you without a care, probably thinking that a princess in a Harry Styles concert in Los Angeles was too far-fetched, while others stood stunned.

In your defence, you looked unsuspicious in your black merch hoodie and black jeans, your best friend, Farrah – whom you met at university –, beside you in a casual attire as well, but the two bulky men walking behind you and close in black suits and wireless earbuds did little to conceal you.

Reaching your seats, you grinned at your best friend as you sat. From your peripheral, you saw your two private guards looking around, standing in the aisle beside Farrah’s seat.

“Hey,” you grabbed their attention, pointing with your thumb behind your back at the empty seats, “Would you please sit?”

“Your Highness w-”

"Please, it's a command. Sit here, enjoy the show." You told the two guards who intently looked at you before giving a reluctant nod.

In your balcony seat, your eyes then fell on the stage in anticipation.

"Your Highness," You heard someone beside you, making you look.

A brunet man, no older than 32, stood with a polite and kind smile.

You smiled. "Are you Jeffery?" He nodded, beginning to politely bow his head a tad. You offered your hand with a wide grin, "Thank you for giving me seats in such a short notice, I’m really sorry for any inconvenience."

"Oh no, it really is a pleasure, your Highness." Jeff tipped is head.

"Just Y/N." You smiled, glancing at the stage as the opening act were saying their goodbyes. "He's coming out now, isn't he?"

"Yeah, yeah, he is. Have you been a fan for long?" Jeff asked as you both stood alongside each other, looking at the stage.

"Quite long actually. Since One Direction," You giggled, shrugging, "Always wanted to attend one of their concerts but only now have I been able to do so. Harry has a lovely voice. I have the album on a lot." You laughed, letting Jeff in on your secret, “But hey, keep that between us.” You joked.

Jeff chuckled, "Who would've guessed that the Princess of the United Kingdom is a Harry Styles fan?"

“Trust me, you’d be surprised.” Farrah said, joining in as the three of you laughed.

“I’ll be right there with the rest of the crew,” Jeff pointed at a different place where people from the crew stood, almost all of them looking at you. At you looking at them, they all turned in embarrassment which made you chuckle to yourself before looking at Jeff who had a bashful smile, “Sorry about that. It’s exciting.”

“It’s exciting for me, too.” You assured him.

“Well, please call me or have anyone to do so if you need anything, your H-” you gave him a look, “Y/N.”

“Thank you, Jeffrey.”

“No problem, Y/N.”

The lights flickered off, your heart fluttering in excitement as you stood up, beginning to cheer with the fans.

The notes of Ever Since New York started playing before the lights were on, making you finally see the man you had flown out to see.

In a blue floral suit, Harry stood with his guitar before he began singing, Farrah recording you as you dramatically sang along.

With every song, you and Farrah let loose; dancing together and screaming the lyrics, vibing with Harry and his band. Hell, you caught one of your guards bob his head to Only Angel before his colleague swatted his arm.

It didn't take long for more people to notice the presence of the English Princess and her famous best friend, some phones and flashes being directed your way but experiencing the excitement and utter euphoria of it all, you chose to ignore the attention.

You were captivated to say the least by his performance, posting stories to your private Instagram account, isthataladybug, of a 102 follower.

You knew that he was a cheeky person who enjoyed a nice chat, so him walking around with his mic and talking to fans wasn’t of any surprise, yet, you didn’t predict him addressing you.

"I would just like to greet someone incredibly special here tonight," Harry said through the mic as he wandered on stage before looking your way, "Hi!" He grinned, waving at you. "All well?"

With a grin and flushed cheeks, you nodded and gave him thumbs up.

With a dimpled smile, Harry tipped his head and gave you a curtesy which sent everyone in a frenzy and you and Farrah to laugh.

Farrah nudged you, making you turn to look at her. "We're meeting him, right?"

You shrugged, "Jeff said we will. Said Harry would have his head if we didn’t.”

To say you were disappointed when Harry said his goodbyes after finishing the setlist would be an understatement, although the fact that you were meeting him seemed to brighten you up a tad.

Backstage was chaotic.

Everyone was running around, wanting to be on their best behaviours and look like it for when the Princess came in, every person telling the other that Jeff was on his way to get you and your best friend and that in just a few, they would be seeing the Princess of the United Kingdom in the flesh.

Harry was no better, pacing around the room, making sure he looked decent and collected. Running his fingers through his hair, he turned to look at his band, “How do I look?”

“Like you’re not going to pass out in any second.” Sarah said sarcastically.

"Fuck, I'm so nervous." Harry laughed, wiping his sweaty palms on his suit trousers.

"So am I. Who would've thought that I'm going to meet the Princess of the United Kingdom? Someone better film this." Clare said before letting out a breath as the band stood in the dressing room.

"I-" Adam was cut off by a knock on the door.

They looked at each other with wide eyes before Harry cleared his throat, standing straighter. "Come in!"

Jeff came inside first, his figure hiding yours before he walked further inside and you and Farrah were then seen. The grin on your face was contagious.

Lined, with Harry at the end, you began to shake hands with the band.

"You were absolutely amazing!" You said as you shook their hands, one by one before reaching Harry.

Neither of you knew that the other was about to pass out from the nerves and excitement as you both smiled at each other.

"Thank you for the show. You're as good live as the studio version, if not better." You said.

Blushing at the comment, Harry softly shook your hand. "It's my honour, your Highness."

"Y/N," you corrected him, your hand still in his. "Just Y/N."

"Y/N," Harry repeated with a charming smile. "An honour, Y/N."

Being this close to him, you noticed how emerald Harry's eyes were. Raspberry pink lips and blushing cheeks, he was a sight for sore eyes.

It was cliché, anyone from the outside would say so, but have a 23-year-old Princess meet a 23-year-old artist whom she had been listening to for years and try not to make it cliché; hell, cliché or not, it was a meeting for the stories.

Farrah clearing her throat was what brought you out of your trance, making you remove your hand from Harry's.

"Well, we were actually going out for a drink if you want to join? Is that okay for you?" Sarah asked, “Oh my God, I just asked the Princess to grab a drink with us, I’m so sorry, your Highness.”

“Hey, no, no,” you quickly shook your head, “It’s fine,” you glanced at the guards and your best friend who gave you a nod, "I’d love to join if you’re all okay with Farrah and I joining. We wouldn’t want to interrupt any band-bonding time."

"Of course!" Harry grinned. "We're more than okay."

Telling you the lowkey bar – that served “amazing fries and boneless chicken wings” as Adam said – they were driving to, you exchanged “see you later’s” before you separated ways.

Right as you sat in the car, Farrah turned to face you, “What was that?”

In confusion, you looked at her, “What was what?”

“You and Harry fucking Styles! What was that?” She laughed excitedly, “Please make it happen.”

“Make what happen? You’re a lunatic!”

“You just pulled a Nicholas Sparks back there; ogling at each other, holding hands like yes, Mr. Darcy, I’d let you wed me.” She said dramatically, putting the back of her hand against her forehead.

“First of all, never do this again,” you cringed jokingly, “Second of all, what’s wrong with you? I have a conversation with a lad and suddenly I should get married to him?”

“He’s not just any lad, don’t discredit him like that.”

“Why don’t you go out with him then, Miss Farrah?” You teased her.

“Because I’m Muslim and it won’t work out, you know with our fa-”

“I was kidding.”

“I wasn’t when I said you pulled a Nicholas Sparks.”

“I should’ve brought Emma instead of you.” You let out a sigh.

“Imagine if she could’ve joined though. It would’ve been Emma and I against you.” Farrah poked your arm.

“You’re unbelievable.”

Arriving at the bar, you and Farrah entered, finding that it wasn’t at all crowded but quite the opposite. Very few people were inside, all seeming to mind their business as they ate and drank, a jukebox playing music to add to the atmosphere of the place.

Among the people, your eyes fell on the band you were meeting, Harry instantly standing and waving at you with a grin.

They had left you seats, although you knew your guards were going to stand as your shadows.

Sitting on the opposite seat from Harry, you were seated beside Sarah, the “discreet” excited expression she gave to Mitch not going unnoticed but you only smiled to yourself instead of commenting.

“This was your second show, wasn’t it?” You asked, all of them nodding and replying with confirmation, “Any idea what this tour will have for you?”

“So many headaches,” Hélène replied in her French accent with a chuckle, “So, so many headaches.”

“Brighten up,” Clare nudged the photographer jokingly, “It’s only the second night.”

“I feel like this tour would be a milestone in all of our lives,” Adam replied, seeming to avoid eye contact with you before he looked at his bandmates, “Literally all of us.”

“A-Are you okay?” Farrah asked him, causing Adam’s posture to relax as he laughed.

“I just don’t know if I should look at you,” he said as he looked at you, “What if it’s disrespectful? Illegal?”

“Oh my God, no,” you laughed as you shook your head, “I’m sitting at a bar in Los Angeles with you, Adam, that’s not exactly a Trooping the Colour.”

“When we first heard you were attending,” Harry began, “We all just sort of,” his eyes widened before he laughed, “You know what?” He turned to look at Adam, “That’s a milestone right there.”

“You speak too highly of me,” you rolled your eyes jokingly, “What about all of you? That album, tonight, you should give yourself more credit.”

“Makes sense that people love you so much.” Mitch said with a small smile.

“Not everyone loves her, excuse you,” Farrah joked, raising her hand up.

“Ah, bullshit.” You rolled your eyes, “You love me the most.”

“No?”

“That’s denial.”

Conversations seemed to flow naturally among everyone at the table, laughter being heard as well as a few claps from how hard one of you would be laughing.

It wasn’t until you realised that you hadn’t drank anything that you stood up, “I’m going to grab something to drink. Does anyone want anything?”

A chorus of “thank you’s” was heard, you fully knowing that they probably hadn’t bothered to even ask you to get them anything because of your title.

“I’ll bring these fries and wings for all of us you told me about.” You pointed at Adam.

“I’ll join you.” Harry said, standing from his place and approaching you before the both of you walked towards the bar.

“Sorry if they make you uncomfortable.” You mumbled to Harry as you both sat on stools.

“Who?”

“Sid and Andrew, the guards,” you replied, “They’re the sweetest actually.” You smiled at the men who stood at a safe distance away from you but nearby, both of them tipping their heads at you before they began looking around.

“No, of course not,” Harry shook his head, “I thought you’d have more with you honestly.”

You waved off, “No, two are enough. Daddy wanted me to walk around with 6 but,” you laughed, “God, no.”

Harry smiled before his smile turned into a smirk, “Did you just say Daddy?”

“Ye-Gross, stop! That’s my father!” You groaned, stuffing your face in your hands as Harry laughed, “How old are you, Styles? 14?”

“And a half actually.”

“Ha, ha.” You tried to stifle your smile as you looked up at him, “It’s Mummy and Daddy for us, excuse you.”

“It’s cute.” Harry smiled timidly.

“It was until you commented.” You teased him, giving him a shrug.

“I apologise, your Highness. Please, don’t behead me.” Dramatically, Harry put a hand to his heart.

“I’ll think about it.” You put both hands on the counter gracefully, placing one above the other as you turned away from him before the both of you laughed.

Neither of you had noticed that you hadn’t ordered yet, only remembering when the bartender came over to take your order.

After ordering, you were both quiet, listening to the music that sounded in the place, you swaying slightly in your seat as you looked around.

"Are you not scared?"

You turned to look at Harry, “Excuse me?”

“Are you not scared?” He repeated.

"Of what?” You asked.

"Being seen in here. The rumours. I mean my rumours I can take care of but royal rumours?" Harry shrugged.

“Why? Are you scared?” The tiny smirk that was your lips were drawn into didn’t go unnoticed by Harry, feeling his lips lift into one of his own just at the sight of yours.

Harry took a moment to drink you up; the vibe you gave off was nothing he imagined. The dainty, soft princess he saw on the screen ever since he was young wasn't who sat in front of him.

In front of him was a confident woman, fearless and ready to seize whatever risk thrown at her. A woman who refused to have her identity shaped up and formed by her family and what the world was trying to limit her to, all for a title.

That's why with a thumping heart and an amused smile, Harry replied; "No, Princess. I'm not scared."

[sh1tbird-shantytown]

You’re Dead, Hargrove

on ao3 also 

Steve had cried when Billy had fallen. Had sobbed as he stood helplessly by Robin’s side while one minute Billy had been caressed by El’s hand and the next he was seemingly dead on the ground. Steve had collapsed to his knees and Robin had almost stumbled to join him. He’d gone back to his vacant home again eventually. He’d finally accepted it and he’d gotten a job. Tried to forget about everything for a while even if he knew he’d never forget it. The monsters, the screams, Billy’s lifeless crystal pools before Max herself closed her own brothers eyes. Then, a month later, he’d gotten a call with the yell of Max’s voice. 

“He’s alive!” she yelled into his ear. And then in a whisper with a rage he couldn’t quite describe, “He’s fucking alive!”

“Who?” Steve asked, only a little confused. He had a hunch. 

“Billy! He’s alive!” Steve froze up, shoulders locked and eyes unblinking. “He’s in the hospital. Has been. Apparently he was just transferred back. They called the house and asked for Neil but he wasn’t here. So they told me instead. I may have yelled at them a little. But he’s at the hospital and no one else would probably take me right now. So, can you come get me?”

Steve took a moment to catch up and Max seemingly allowed it, “I— yeah, yeah. I’ll be there in a few,” he agreed. She thanked him and hung up her end of the line. 

He stood there clutching the plastic yellow kitchen telephone for a moment though. He’d hoped. He had laid awake for hours and hours with the dwindling hope that there was any chance. He knew Max had too, had called him a few nights when the house got too quiet. And the room across from hers held too many shadows. 

They’d never had a funeral. Neil Hargrove didn’t want to waste money on a casket. He’d taken that as a sign. Because funerals were a send away to the deceased right? Without one there was a bit of a halt in flow. Now, it was a lot of Neil Hargrove not wanting to waste money and the fact that the government supposedly didn’t want to give back the body. But still, Steve kept going with the coals of Billy’s survival. He was so relieved now that his limbs lost function with the way excitement rumbled in his bones. 

On his way to the Hargrove-Mayfield residence he thought to himself more. He knew that Billy would be different. After that? Steve wasn’t that naive to not think of these things. But he wanted to get along with Billy. He wasn’t going to miss this second chance. They’d both messed it up the last time. But maybe they’d be able to start something of a friendship. Call it a guess that Billy might not have many of those. 

Max brought a bright blue backpack with her when she tossed herself in the passenger seat, “Hey! So,” she buckled when he simply pointed at it over her shoulder and put the gear in reverse. “So,” she started again, “I kinda haven’t told anyone else. But I will once I see how he is,” she spoke unsurely of herself. He smiled kindly and she relaxed into the seat a little. 

“That’s a good idea, Mad Max,” he nodded as he tried to keep his jittery hands straight on the steering wheel. “We should make sure he’s better prepared for visitors. I think just us going in for now is fine. We shouldn’t bombard him.”

“Right,” she agreed, “That’s what I was thinking.” He glanced over and saw the biggest smile he thought he’d ever seen on her. He removed one shaky hand and put a fist out midair. She stared a moment and then pressed her own wobbling fist against his own. They shared a bubbly laugh while they could. 

...

Well, the room wasn’t warm. Neither was Billy by the looks of the goosebumps on his arms. But his face was pink and healthier than the last time they’d seen him. Max stood ahead of him in the doorway. All three of them had a sort of staring match. 

Until Steve spoke, that is, “Hey, Billy,” it came out as more of a whisper as he waved at the man choppily. But Billy looked at him tearily and smiled. 

“Hey, Harrington,” he looked back at his sister, “Maxine. It’s good to see ya.” His voice sounded dry and a little cracked in a few places. Like aged porcelain. He looked a bit like it too. He had thin scars that sprouted all over his skin. White and pink pale wisps that peaked out of the thin white T-shirt. There were black and blue threads that held some of the longer cuts. His hair was buzzed but it had grown to about an inch sized fuzz around his skull. 

Max rushed forward and halted right beside his bedside, “Can I hug you? Please?” her knees bent a little at the final request. Billy’s eyes were wide and reflective as he nodded. She threw her arms open but moved slowly. They clung to each other and ‘I’m sorry’s’ were tossed back and forth relentlessly. Repeated over and over again by both of them. They stayed huddled on the edge of the bed so Steve allowed himself in with silent steps. He hovered in the middle space of the doorway and the end of Billy’s hospital bed as he stared out the window respectively letting them have their reunion.

“So, Harrington,” he heard suddenly, “What’s been up since I left?” Steve looked at the two again. Max sat in the empty and partially dusty chair closest to Billy’s bedside. Her hair brightened in the sunlight that peaked through the mostly opened blinds. Billy had a pleased smile when Steve looked at him. And then he noticed the little dots contrasted against Billy’s paled skin. 

“I never realized you had freckles,” Steve answered instead. Then he jolted a little at the realization that he’d said it out loud. “I mean, cause, you know, they look...nice,” he stuttered. “They’re a good look.”

Billy smirked at his dumbfounded fumbling, “Thanks, Harrington.” His own pink ears didn’t go unnoticed. 

Steve sighed in relief silently and nodded, “Steve. You can call me Steve.”

Billy tilted his head much like an innocent bird, “Alright, Steve,” he said casually. “Missed you too,” he added after a blank moment. 

Steve eyebrows came together in his confusion, “Really?”

Billy grinned a little dopily, “Yeah.”

The room grew warmer. 

...

Steve hadn’t expected the drastic change. Sure, Billy still made his sarcastic comments and jokes. But, they were produced with a foreign sort of care. Steve found himself a little dumbfounded a couple times when Billy called him nicknames with no joking aim to his voice. 

“What’s this, Princess?” he asked when Steve handed over a folded brown paper bag. Something began to boil in Steve’s tummy and chest. 

“A puzzle,” he answered, “300 pieces,” he smiled widely. Billy raised one eyebrow and opened the bag noisily. He pulled out the box and admired the picture. It was something out of a calendar, the lineup of top model muscle cars. Silvers and golds and blues and reds and greens. “I just thought it looked cool,” Steve shrugged. He truly, definitely, absolutely hadn’t noticed the Camaro right dab in the middle. Nope. 

Billy chuckled and set it in his lap, “Well thanks,” he smiled toothily. “Welcome back, have a seat,” he gestured to the seat that Max had sat in the last time they had visited. 

Steve nodded and did as requested, “Max had homework to do so she told me to come visit alone. Hope that’s okay,” he gripped the arms of the chair and slid it so he could face Billy better. 

Something fell from Billy’s expression, eyes turned down in disappointment, “You didn’t have to come if you didn’t want to. I’d prefer you to actually want to be here instead, actually.” Blatant honesty was another thing Billy had taken up, or maybe he just enhanced it with all the help from the therapist that came in on Wednesday’s.  

Steve crossed his legs and kept his hands around the arm rests with furrowed brows, “What are you talking about? I was already coming, she just couldn’t make it this time around. I want to be here, Bill. Kinda want to retry the whole friend thing if you don’t mind actually,” he looked off to Billy’s shoulder. 

Billy looked surprised at that, “Wait,” he lifted his arms a little, “You want to be friends with me?” he asked. 

Steve looked back at him and smiled, “Well yeah,” he tuned, “I think we could both use a buddy.” He flapped his ebows out a little as if to nudge him goofily. 

Billy’s lips twisted, “I will not be referred to as a ‘buddy’ thank you very much,” he grumbled. 

Steve only laughed as he wrapped an arm wound himself comfortably and leaned back, “Yeah, yeah.” 

Billy opened his mouth and then closed it again before looking at Steve and opening it again, “I had my third session with Dr. Eros today.” The therapist. 

Steve looked on interestedly, “How’d it go?”

Billy relaxed more in himself, “we talked about you actually.”

Something fluttered in his abdomen nervously, “Me?”

Billy nodded, “He said,” Billy looked down and then back up again, “And I agreed, that I should apologize for how I treated you.” He seemed to be struggling for words so Steve silently let him find his footing. “You just wanted to finish high school and I just assumed you were a sucky person because of all the bullshit Tommy Hagan cranked out.”

“You know, I already forgive you,” Steve assured. Although, Billy didn’t look any bit assured at all.

“No, Steve,” he sat up and swiveled around to his feet dangled off and he could look directly at him, “You don’t need to say that. I was bad. I was,” he grew teary, “I pushed everyone good away. Anyone that was nice to me and that was horrible. So, for me, if you really do forgive me. Help remind me that I can’t push you away. You can’t forgive me that easily. That’s not how it works.”

“Seems to me that you’ve ingrained that into your own head just fine by now,” Steve smiled forlornly. 

Billy pressed his lips together, “Please, I need something earned.” Steve watched as Billy slowly got up to his feet and traveled over to the chair beside him.

“Alright, Bill, whatever you wish.”

Billy nodded determinedly, brows creased, “Thank you.” 

“Now let’s get to that puzzle,” he untangled himself and leaned forward. “I suck at them so hopefully you’ll be a bit better.” Billy snorted quietly and Steve found himself gazing and stupefied by the surprisingly adorable sound. Steve took the box to distract himself by opening it. 

“My reflexes and muscle endurance is still shit,” Billy watched Steve’s hands. “But I’ll try, Pretty Boy.” He called Steve that the most. 

They worked on the puzzle for three hours. They got distracted multiple times and had to stop when a nurse wandered in occasionally to check vitals and blood pressure or give Billy his food. They had finished and cheered half heartedly to celebrate when Billy laid back in his mattress with a long sigh. A content one. 

“Man, you know what I could really use?” he asked with his eyes closed and his long eyelashes shadowing his cheeks. 

“What’s that?” Steve stretched his back and shoulders. 

Billy stayed still, “A smoothie.”

Steve lowered his arms and stared at Billy’s, for once, peaceful face, “Really?”

Billy nodded, “Hell yeah. I love them, I do miss the Orange Julius’ they had in Cali.”

Steve shook his head, “There’s one in just the next county over,” he disagreed, “Oh, and there’s a smoothie bar that just opened actually,” he added offhandedly. He didn’t mention the one in the mall. 

Billy chuckled in a sarcastic manner, “Some people don’t like it when you’re trying to be happy, Steve.”

Steve leaned forward again to focus, “What do you mean by that?”

Billy simply opened one eye and said, “You gonna go get me a smoothie or what? Maybe it’ll be easier to down than the flavorless burgers they have here.” 

Steve shook his head, “I doubt that.” But he gave Billy a considerate hug goodbye anyway. 

...

Steve had only been gone forty minutes. But apparently that was enough time for Neil Hargrove to finally hear about his son’s arrangement in the hospital. Why Max had insisted that he didn’t know was beyond Steve’s knowledge. But he also knew that Max was smart and most likely had her good reasons. So when he heard from the nurse that he had arrived and was in the room with Billy, he ran. Ignoring her requests to slow down and not bringing the smoothies into the room. The door hit the wall when it opened and he had to act fast to keep the smoothies from tipping over and onto the floor. 

He hadn’t even had time to look up when he heard, “Oh!” and a harsh laugh. “That's why you kept looking at the door instead of at me? Thought someone was coming to save you from this?” The man sounded dangerous but Steve almost laughed when he looked up. The handlebar mustache and rectangular face. He wasn’t surprised. The man looked like the type and Steve had his own expertise when it came to reading people. Billy’s glassy and unemotional eyes were what really made the difference though. Billy had started to portray his emotions, now they were all blocked off. It was scary.

“Shut up and get away from him.” Steve hadn’t even realized he said it. But he did feel the adrenaline rush that came with the disastrous rage that surfaced. Neil’s face morphed from cruel amusement to fury in just one second. Billy’s transformed to horror. Steve felt his stomach twist but he gathered enough of a hold to offer a shaky smile to the familiar blue eyes. 

“Steve—“

“You have some nerve to speak to me that way,” Neil spoke quietly. Steve wavered for only a moment. He had faced worse monsters than the senior Hargrove. Hell, he’d faced one Hargrove already. Of course, he still wished he had his bat or Max in this round too. 

“I have more reason than nerve,” Steve spouted back and relaxed his shoulders forcefully. 

Neil looked out the door and when Steve blinked he was faced with a smiling man, “Why don’t we speak outside, boy?”

“No— Da— Sir,” Billy shifted in his spot but Steve had already turned on his heel after setting the drink tray down on an empty seat. Neil Hargrove’s footsteps followed him all the way outside and even to his car. When he heard the tempo of them speed up he ran again. Opened his trunk and took out the bat. 

“What the fuck is that?” the man roared. Steve disregarded him and gripped the hilt just like he did when he was preparing himself for a demodog. The parking lot wasn’t very empty but there was space and no one out to witness firsthand what was about to happen. 

Steve taunted the bat and held it low, “You come near me?” He nodded to the blood rusted nailed bat, “You get hit.” Neil looked frightened before he shifted to unbothered. There was a glint in his eyes. Something broken between scared and doubtful. 

“You don’t have the guts, kid,” he spoke. Steve already assumed that Neil wouldn’t be one to back down from a fight; too egotistical. 

“Oh yeah?” Steve waved the bat back and forth like a golfer before taking a swing. He made easy eye contact with the tense man, “Try me.” Neil took a step back and straightened his posture. Steve was still taller. 

“What do you want?” he asked. “Want me to stop bullying my pathetic son, eh?” he perceived unconcern. 

“Almost spot on,” Steve smiled wickedly and tightened his hold as his anger and annoyance grew uncontainable, “I want you to fuck off.” He stepped closer when Neil opened his mouth, “I have connections in this town. And I have ways to take you out in just a measly hour at any given notice. So, you leave him alone or you leave this town. Because if I see a hair out of place on him by your hand?” They were nose to nose and the tip of the closest nails were poking Neil’s chest stingingly. “You’re dead, Hargrove.” He pushed the man back with a force that made him hiss in pain when the nails dug in. Steve smiled unkindly and backed away slowly until Neil took the hint. 

Max arrived with Susan not too long after Steve had returned to Billy. He’d calmed Billy down as much as possible and then shoved a lukewarm blueberry and vanilla smoothie into his palm to cease the questions. 

Steve stayed silent through any inquisitives for most of his visit. 

...

“Max said Neil left town,” Billy opened with when Steve walked through the doorway. 

“Ran off where?” Steve asked without looking. He removed his backpack and sat in the accustomed chair as he unzipped it. 

Billy sounded on edge and relieved all at once, “No one knows, but he left two hundred in cash and his car is gone along with a forth of the house.”

Steve snorted, “Figures.” Billy grunted in what Steve supposed was agreement. 

“Did you have anything to do with this?” Billy went on as he took the paper diner cup filled with milkshake. 

“Yeah, I sneak your weekly smoothies and milkshakes in all by myself. You’re welcome,” Steve deflected. 

“Steve.” He sighed and looked at Billy. Billy looked determined and unbridled and Steve was done with side stepping. 

“I threatened him with my bat,” he said and fiddled with the straw in his own treat. 

“Why?” Billy asked curiously, not exactly what Steve had expected as the response. Maybe more of a, ‘why the hell are you interfering, Harrington?’ sort of thing.  

“Uh,” he squinted as he pondered how to answer. “Well, he’s an asshole, he hurt you, and I hate him. So I think that’s enough of a reason,” he nodded to himself and took a sip of vanilla ice cream. Billy hesitated and then did the same but didn’t take his eyes away from Steve’s. 

“Are you two having, like, a full conversation like this?” Max barged in unapologetically. “‘Cause you’re not saying anything and it’s creepy

Billy spoke before Steve could, “I got him to answer.”

Max sat by his feet on the end of the bed and swung her legs, “Care to restate?”

Billy rolled his eyes fondly as Steve watched them with his jaw lowered, “It was the bat.”

Max smirked, “I knew it. What did you say to him to shake him up so bad?” Steve settled himself with the knowledge that he'd managed to remove another monster from Hawkins as he formed an appropriate response. That he technically did the right thing, and he didn’t actually end up hurting anyone. 

“That’s just for him and I to know I think,” he deflected quietly. “And he’s gone now, so all that matters is getting Billy back on his feet.”

Billy’s eyes grew dewy but he smiled freely, “Okay,” his voice cracked with emotion. Max scowled but didn’t push it. Instead, she took off her bag and picked out a comic that Steve didn’t recognize. 

“Here,” she shoved it into Billy’s hand, “It’s a new one Dustin gave me.” When a tear fell and Billy brushed it away, no one mentioned it. At least not right away. When Max went to get a drink downstairs Steve scooted closer. 

“You know you’re not alone, right?” he looked down and grasped Billy's hand with both of his own. “You have me and Max. We’ll be here every day, Bill,” Steve swore. “No, need to waste your tears over that asshole.”

“I just never thought it would happen,” his cheeks were wet. “I mean, I don’t have either of my parents left.”

Steve’s eyebrows scrunched, “And you don’t need them.”

“But I do, Steve!” Billy’s hand shook even between Steve’s own. “What am I supposed to do? My mother’s somewhere off in Washington state and my father is a piece of shit that won’t even try to change.”

Steve leaned in and spoke quietly, “Both of them don’t deserve you. You’re so strong, Billy. You went up against an interdimensional monster and won. You’ve grown and you’re working on yourself, allowing yourself into therapy and getting actual help.” Billy’s lips quivered and more tears fell. “You’re so much better than them, Bill, better than them put together. So much better.” Billy pawed away the wires and Steve was halfway on the bed as he held him. 

His shoulder was drenched by the time Max returned. But Billy had a new light to his demeanor. And that was way more important. 

...

Max stopped Steve before they exited the doors to the parking lot, “We should tell the others.”

Steve stared at her, a little boggled, “Uh, okay. We can do that, yeah,” he nodded. 

“Tonight,” she looked up at him stonily. She acted like her brother more than most would think since they weren’t biologically related. Unbudging. 

“Max,” he looked at his watch, “It’s six, they’ll all be having dinner with their families.”

She laughed a little, not in an amused way either, “At least they get that luxury even if we don’t.”

“Max—“ he began warningly. 

“You don’t have to hide it, Steve,” she put her hands on her hips, “We know that your parents are practically nonexistent. They’re never around in the first place and Joyce had to drive you home from the hospital after Starcourt. And you were here for most of the week.” He sighed tiredly. He couldn’t disagree with her, no one ever disagreed with Max and won easily. 

“Don’t get too worked up over it, Mad Max,” he patted her shoulder fraternally. She looked unimpressed in return. “How about we get some KFC and you, me, and your mom can have our own little dinner.”

She smiled and he felt something release itself from the back of his mind, “Let’s go then!”

…

He may have gone a little overboard, there was lots of fried chicken and lots of mashed potatoes in his and Max’s possession as they walked into the house. Susan was reading on the small sofa as muted baseball illuminated the television box. 

“Steve bought dinner, Mama!” Max greeted loudly as she kicked off her shoes and joined her mother.

Steve laughed to himself, “Hope you don’t mind, Ma’am,” he set a bag of food beside Max’s on the table. Susan had gotten a lot more independent in just a few days. Had gone out for dinner with Claudia Henderson, made very good friends with her. Had a job in a boutique in town and everything. Max started spending more time with her now too.

“Oh, it’s just fine,” she waved his nerves off and opened a bag, “Thank you, and take a seat, Hun.” He did just that and Max went to get plates and silverware from the kitchen. Susan looked at him as she opened the containers, “How is he?” she asked earnestly. 

“He’s doing even better since you last visited,” he responded as he eyed the condensation bubbles on a lid move, “Much better actually. His motor skills are improving and he’s laughing more. We went outside the other day and watched the birds. The fresh air improved his mood a ton,” Steve smiled at the memory.

“That’s wonderful,” Susan smiled as she listened to him. “I’m glad he’s got a friend like you.”

Steve’s cheeks darkened a little, “He’s a nice friend to have.”

Susan nodded a bit distractedly and then she sat up straighter, “Oh! I’ve started re-doing his bedroom. I patched up the walls,” they both winced at that, “Repainted. All the works,” her smile was hesitant. Like she had a podium to prove too. 

“Can I see it?” Steve pointed to the hallway without looking away from her. 

She stood up, delighted, “Yes, yes,” she led him down and to a partially chipped door. She opened it and let the door swing by itself with a push. The walls were a pale blue and Billy’s bed stood lowly against the wall with white blankets and pillows. There weren’t any posters or personal belongings. Susan seemed to notice his own observations. “I only kept Neil,” she spoke his name with disgust, “From turning it into his own at home office by suggesting a guest room. I used this to cope guess,” she admitted shamefully. 

Steve shrugged and looked at the bed again, sunken lower in the middle edge, “Better than I did. I didn’t leave my bed for weeks,” he looked back at her. 

She smiled sadly and patted his shoulder, “Let’s get back. Max has most likely stopped waiting for us by now. I have a hunch it took so long just so I could finally speak to you about him. She’s not very good with words,” she whispered to him with a small smile.” They stopped at the end of the hallway to see Max scooping potato into her mouth unmannerly. “Billy never was either,” she finished.  

...

Billy was staring at his lap the next time Steve entered. His eyes were wide and moist, there wasn’t anything surprised in them though. The man looked like his worst fear had just come true. 

Steve set down his bag and shuffled close, “What’s wrong?” Billy held up a postcard displaying ‘Hawkins’ in green, cursive writing. 

“It’s from my father, he’s back,” Billy didn’t even look up as he held the card to Steve’s chest. He took it from Billy’s trembling hand and read the back. Billy recited for him though, “‘Your boyfriend can’t keep me away.’” Steve stared at Billy and dropped his hand with the card clenched in his fist. “Charming right?” Billy’s eyes were hollow, somehow more broken looking than any of the times they’d talked. And they had exchanged many stories, Steve had lost count of the amount of times Billy had cried. This was something old. 

“I’ll find him again,” Steve promised, “This time I won’t let him off so easy.” He kept the hostility he felt away from Billy’s eyes. Didn’t want Billy to have to worry so much about it. 

“There’s only one place you can find these types of postcards, Hawkins is usually printed in red. Must be symbolic.” Steve stood up, ready to head out the door as he developed a plan. But he stopped. Billy was looking at him, eyes wide and moist again. The sunlight shun and Billy looked like that of an angel. Steve leaned down and wrapped him up in his arms. “I’ll get him out of here, Bill. I promise this time.” It was the first time Billy pulled him in back. So Steve stayed a moment, not rushing anything even though his mind was half with Billy and half running downstairs to the pay phone. 

When Billy was the one to let go, Steve stepped back. “Good luck,” he heard just as he reached the doorway. 

He turned around and smiled, preserving, “Thanks!” Like he wasn’t going to go and quite possibly kill Billy’s father. Maybe just severely maim. But Billy’s lips lifted at the corners and his eyes looked more structured, so Steve left with a prominent smile. 

He went downstairs to the pay phone and took it off the hook to place in the crook of his neck as he pulled quarters out of his pockets. He dialed. It rang and rang and then there was a connection. 

“Hello?” he heard. 

Steve took a breath and then dived, “It’s Steve. And I need you to listen to what I have to say. Clear your schedule for the day.”

He sighed, “What is it now?”

“I’m hunting down Hargrove and I need your assistance.”

“Steve, you know he’s in the hosp—“

“Not that one.”

It was quiet for a long time, “You at the hospital?”

“Yep.”

“Have any clue where the bastard is?”

“Yep.” He looked down at the postcard still in his hand, “Meet me at the Roadwood in Marion.”

“I’ll be there, kid,” Hopper cut the line. And Steve went to the car. 

...

The desk lady looked very uninterested in Steve as he walked up to the counter, “I’m here to see Neil Hargrove,” he smiled casually and leaned a little against the counter. “Is he here?”

The lady’s gum popped and she leaned forward, searching out a paper with her pencil, “Room 5,” she stated and leaned back again. 

Steve’s smile tightened, “Thanks,” he nodded and left back out the door. Stopped by his car to get the weapon. And when he got to the door he knocked and then stood out of the way of the little peephole. The door opened a moment later revealing Hargrove’s pinched and confused, ugly, face. “I thought I told you to leave.”

Neil looked over a bit bewildered and then he scowled, “And then I realized that it’d be idiotic to listen to some teenager.”

Steve continued to look unimpressed, “I’m twenty.”

“Same thing.”

 Steve took his bat out from behind his back, “I suggest you get in the room and wait for my friend to get here. Then we’ll deal with you.” 

Neil hesitated and Steve rose the bat up threateningly before the man bolted into the room. Forgetting to shut the door. Steve followed him in after spotting Hopper’s truck and waving a signal to him. Inside, Neil had gathered the bedsheets like he was going to capture some sort of animal. 

“Now,” Steve began like the good conversationalist he was, “Either you leave today or I deal with you personally.”

Hopper appeared behind him in the doorway, “The walls are soundproof,” he closed the door. “Too many noise complaints, brought business down,” he was beside Steve with a roll of duct tape around his wrist and a crowbar in his hand, “Installed much better stuff.” 

Neil backed up to the opposite wall, “This is illegal.”

“And you abuse your son,” Hopper snapped, “So make your decision because our job is to protect this town. And you’re one of the things we get rid of. And that’s either the county border or the ground. Figure that shit out on your own. I don’t play nice with people like you.”

Steve smirked humorlessly, “I warned you,” he mused. 

Neil glanced at his suitcase and held his hands up, eyes shifty, “I’ll leave, I’ll leave!” Steve looked at Hopper and was met with the same expression, doubt. And it was further rooted when they both spotted the small pistol badly hidden under a wrinkled shirt. 

Steve leveled his bat out and stepped forward, “No you’re not.” He rushed Neil, whacked his leg and got the bat stuck before it ripped out due to the bulky man falling to the ground. He gave a yelp of agony and blood dripped into the carpet slowly. He started crawling to his suitcase but Steve brought the bat down on his back. Neil kept going between the moments Steve checked on Hopper who was standing and watching, crowbar at the ready if needed. When Steve looked back at Neil again he was reaching for the gun. Neil had just gotten it in his grasp when he rose the bat in the air and slammed it down on his head. 

Steve stepped back again and sighed, “Now you’re really dead, Hargrove.” 

Hopper took him. Backed the truck up and covered him with a tarp. Steve didn’t ask where. Didn’t need to know. 

But, just so you know, they never did see Neil Hargrove again. 

...

Billy didn’t ask either, not exactly. Steve just walked back in, hair wet from a shower and completely different clothes. He watched him sit down, eyes wide and Steve nodded while he scratched under his jaw through a yawn. But that was it, no great breakout. No yelling, no thanking, nothing about it. 

“So,” Steve propped his elbow on top of the arm of the chair and then his chin in his hand, “Any plans for when you get out?”

Billy shrugged and his face was less solemn, “I’m not sure, I’ll probably move out of town. Everyone here thinks I’m dead anyway.”

Steve’s eyes widened, “Uh—“ he grasped the arm and leaned forward, “Max wanted to tell the Party. Did she tell you that? I barely stopped her last night.”

Billy didn’t show anything towards recognition, “She what?”  

Steve sat back in the chair again, shoulders sagged tiredly, “We were thinking of letting the others know you’re alive.”

Billy brought a hand up slowly and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Steve.”

“I know,” he put his hands up and bit his tongue as tears surfaced. He was really going to miss Billy Hargrove, wasn’t he? “You’ll probably want to go all the way to,” Steve waved a hand around thoughtfully, “Like, France or something. At least there are no monsters there.”

Billy’s eyes were a little lost and far away, “I can’t speak french.”

Steve looked up quick and then laughed, running a hand through his hair, “New York?”

Billy shrugged, “Probably not...” Billy hiccuped through a shaky breath, “How about you?”

“I’m not smart enough to do any of that,” Steve picked at a loose thread. “I was considering Colorado. Maybe get a degree in teaching art? My aunt always said I had a bit of a talent when it came to a canvas.” He shrugged to himself and looked up to Billy. Fond, glittery eyed Hargrove. 

“That’s great,” he whispered and pulled the thin hospital blanket up to his chest. “I’m tired, do you mind shutting the blinds?”

Steve got up and traveled around the room blocking off all the light, “I’ll stay a little longer, ‘kay?” 

Billy stared at him for a very long moment, half laying down with his blanket clutched. Steve stayed still with his hands around the stick to close the blinds and looked right back. And then Billy cried. 

Steve rushed forward, “Hey, hey, hey,” he sat on the side of the bed and eased Billy against him. “It’s okay,” he rubbed Billy’s back as he sobbed. Each raspy intake of breath like a nail in Steve’s chest. “It’s alright, Billy. You’re going to be okay.”

“I don’t have anywhere to go.”

Steve pressed his head against Billy’s, “Susan will take you in. She’s been working on your old bedroom.” He didn’t mention how it was originally Susan’s grief distraction project for a guest room. 

“Really?” Billy said through harsh breaths. Steve nodded against his shoulder. “Sorry,” Billy mumbled into his shoulder, “Guess I just,” he paused and went a little limper, “I guess I just didn’t like hearing that you would be so far away in the,” he put his hands up in some mock, grand gesture, “Foreseeable future we’ve thought up.”

Steve sat back a little so he could see some of Billy and take hold of his hand, “I promised I wouldn’t leave you alone, didn’t I?”

“Huh?” Billy’s arms tightened around him and little and Steve melted like chocolate left in the sun.

“We could leave town together,” Steve offered instead, “We could get an apartment or something in some other small town or a city somewhere.” Billy’s breathing slowly eased back to soft hiccups of intakes as Steve rocked them side to side. Billy let him, let him help in the ways he knew how. 

Steve felt a kiss to his cheek, “Colorado sounds nice.” And even if it seemed far away and near inconsiderable, they allowed themselves to hope. To dream something up. Together.

[generalfoolish]

Feel The Heat

Part Three: Architect

Rating: 18+ (minors take a hike)

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, implied drinking and driving (hey! don't do this!), some making out, mentions of sex but no actual sex, and some trauma reflection.

Word count: 3k

Pairing: Frankie “Fish” Morales x OC Juniper Collins

Summary: Idiocy continues. June and Frankie have a date, and a sleepover.

A/N: Hey babes! Sorry for this one in advance. She's not my best. She's also a hundred percent filler. We love her because she's necessary, though. I know it's a little shorter, but I have finals and a million other ideas keeping me from putting the work in. Also, I kind of like where I left it. Feel free to yell at me. Enjoy, anyway 💕

Masterlist | Part Two | Part Four

June took another sip of the wine, she had nearly drained the bottle; and she didn’t even want to know what number beer Frankie was on, but it was good. They had been propped up in the restaurant for long enough that the waiter stopped coming over.

“So what’s Fish about? I’m dying to know.” She asked brazenly, her cheeks tinged pink from the wine, and though her lipstick was long gone, her lips were stained red.

“Ah, I was wondering if you were gonna ask. It’s...not interesting.” He finally said, and they both laughed. “I like to fish, and the spot I go to has a bunch of catfish. I’ve been that way since forever, and in basics the name just stuck. Catfish, that is. The guys shortened it later to just Fish, which is...unfortunate.” June leaned forward on her elbows, and listened. She realized she was in trouble. This man could make anything sound interesting.

“Why’d they need to shorten it? Catfish is pretty easy to say.” She mused, more to herself than him. He took a sip of his beer.

“It was in spec ops, and it was just a mouth full during the shit.” He told her, glancing down. She took the hint.

“Do you eat catfish? I don’t really like it.” She admitted.

“What? No, that can’t be right. It’s great.” He laughed, and took another sip.

“Yeah, great if you love eating a muddy bottom-feeder.” She retorted, rolling her eyes.

“You like shellfish? Lobster? Because, I got news for you.” He said, smirking, and she laughed.

“Can you cook it?”

“Of course, I can.” He scoffed.

“Then I guess you’ll just have to cook some for me.” She teased lightly, the alcohol swimming in her mind.

“No way.” He said flatly. Her face fell, and he continued. “You want to eat it, you gotta catch it first.” She grimaced and shook her head.

“Not so much for fishing.” She explained, dropping her eyes from his gaze.

“What do you do then? Besides, follow my every movement.” He added playfully and she laughed.

“I took up gardening recently.” She reminded him, tilting her wine cup towards him. Samantha wasn’t too far off, he was pretty great.

“It’s a little late in the season, to start.” He told her gently. She squared her shoulders before letting them fall.

“Yeah. I had this great plan, until I thought about it at all. Day drinking has gotten me into more difficult spots though.” She huffed out a laugh. “See, there’s this grumpy farmer I wanted to impress. I wanted to...well, it sounds stupid now, but I wanted to prove that I wasn’t just a pretty face. I was going to bring you something I had grown.” She laughed, and wiped her eyes. “I didn’t think about growing seasons, or the fact that it takes a miserably long time for anything to actually grow.” He laughed with her easily, and she smiled.

“I can’t wait to see what you grow, and I hope you’ll consider me when you have to give most of it away so it doesn’t spoil.” He chuckled, but she could tell he was being earnest.

“I also write.” She blurted out. She was looking to change the subject before it got too deep, before they could get tangled in the implications, and the first thing that came to mind was something she hadn’t told anyone. Ever. The only person who knew she wrote was her publicist, and even she knew June under her pseudonym. She flushed, and tried to backpedal. “I mean it’s not a big deal. It’s really just like not a big deal at all.” He studied her face carefully, before speaking.

“Sounds like not a big deal,” He repeated, each word weighted. “But, if you ever want to tell me about it, I would love to hear.” He smiled and leveled his gaze at hers. She felt incredibly stupid for even bringing it up, but he had managed to give her a graceful out. She wondered if she shouldn’t tell him. She had no idea if this was even a date anymore, and she wanted the weight off her chest. She squared her shoulders again.

“Okay, you drug it out of me,” she laughed, and downed her glass. “I am a published author and no one in my real life knows.” She didn’t follow up. Her words hung in the air, heavy and bloated, before he cleared his throat.

“Why would you share that with me?” The confusion was apparent on his face, and it wasn’t what she was expecting. He looked incredibly touched at the gesture, as if she had just given him access to her most intimate secrets. She paused, and realized dumbly that she had. She had absolutely just revealed to him what might be her darkest secret; and as tame as it was, it was hers.

“I don’t really know.” She said flatly. She felt odd though, as she didn’t regret it. In fact, she felt relieved. “It feels good though.” She assured him.

“What have you published?”

“A half dozen novels about cowboys.” She told him, lamely.

“Cowboys?” He asked with a smile dancing on his lips.

“Cowboys.” She repeated with her own coy smile. “It’s a series, and it is not popular. But, I love it, actually.” She continued, a little bashful. “I lost money the first few years, but sales are actually picking up. I’ll never make my living that way, but I love it just the same.” Her cheeks were blazing hot, and  she finished in a whisper. He nodded, feeling that much closer to her.

The waiter came over to tell them that they should leave, and the pair laughed at how long they’d been sitting and talking. June was disappointed to bring the night to a close, but knew she had class in the morning. Frankie walked her to her car, and leaned heavily against it.

“You going to be alright to drive home?” She asked, watching him sway slightly.

“No.” He told her flatly, a chuckle following. “I’ll get a cab.” She rolled her eyes.

“How old are you? Get in, I’ll take you home.” She told him, pulling him around to the passenger side. He fought her a little.

“I’m out of the way, I don’t want you to have to back track.”

“Fine, we can go back to mine, and in the morning I’ll drop you by your truck. This is on my way.” The proposition was out in the world before she considered it. The words were hanging between them before she had a chance to worry the details out. It seemed simple enough, but the implications went deeper than she was ready to admit. Her worries were confirmed when she heard him suck in a sharp breath.

“I’d hate to impose…” He trailed, but she was already unlocking her car and shoving him in.

~~~

“Of course, I’ll take the couch, you’re my guest.” She told him, huffing in finality. He crossed his arms. Frankie had only barely agreed to the sleepover; he wasn’t getting bullied in the sleeping arrangement.

“No way. I’m not letting you sleep on the couch in your own home.”

“The couch is comfy, though. I slept there last night.”

“All the more reason you should get a proper night’s rest in your bed.” They glared at each other, and Frankie won. Or, so he thought.

“Fine. We’ll both sleep on the couch.” His laugh was sharp and loud, ripped out without warning. He wasn’t sure if it was the booze, but everything June had said had warmed his insides.

“That’s reasonable.” He agreed, and without thinking too much about the movement, he pulled her to the couch with him. He had meant for it to be smooth, and maybe a little romantic. Instead, it was messy and tangled, but when she landed face to face with him it was hard to argue his methods. He felt her breath on his lips, and he leaned forward, testing the waters, and skimmed his lips against hers. She responded in kind, pressing her lips to his with more urgency.

Frankie shifted June so that he was seated and she was straddling him. He pushed back into her kiss, and deepened it slightly. He ran his tongue against her lips, and when she parted them, he slipped his tongue in, tasting and exploring inside her mouth. He licked under her tongue, sucking it slightly, and managed to pull a soft moan from her. He pulled back for air, and noted how her pupils were blown black with lust, her bright eyes darkened. He wondered for a second if his own were so dark, and then she was on him again. She kissed and licked down his jaw and neck, before focusing on his ear. She nibbled the lobe, licked and sucked the sensitive skin around it.

When she pulled away, he almost whined at the loss. She was panting a little, and already swinging her leg off of him. He frowned at her movements, but didn't stop them. She sat heavily beside him, and pecked his cheek.

"Not that I don't want to continue...I just don't think it's a great idea. We've both been drinking, and it's a school night." The realization hit her like a brick wall. "Crap! Frankie! Do you need to get home to Liv?" He chuckled in response, which let her calm down a bit.

“No, she’s at a friend’s house tonight.” June breathed a sigh of relief, and Frankie felt his lips tug up. “Thanks for checking, though.” She nodded, and he just waited, not sure what she wanted next. He hoped it was more than making out. She cleared her throat and faced him, and he felt his smile fall. She looked too serious for anything light., and he braced for impact.

“The way I see it, Frankie, is we have two options here. One, we go upstairs, and I fuck you out of my system.” He inhaled sharply, and swallowed heavily. He could have laughed, if he wasn’t so shocked. “Option two, I go upstairs, alone, and tomorrow I take you to your truck. After that, maybe we can have another dinner...or maybe I’ll go fishing with you.” He did chuckle at her scrunched up face, this time. He considered her options for a moment.

“Why not a third, where both options play out?” He was teasing, mostly. Mostly, he assured himself.

“Well, that doesn’t work for me. I have had too many option three relationships take a nosedive, and I want to give this a chance. But, if you’re not interested in seeing where we could go, then let’s get on with the fun part.” He studied her face, etching every crinkle and freckle to memory. It was so intimate, he realized, being this close without touching. He wanted to take her upstairs. He didn’t really want to even take her upstairs, the couch was fine. She had been burning him since they had met, and he had had every opportunity to reach out and extinguish it. He hadn’t, and he knew why. He knew they could have something here. He had just spent hours with her, and he was already missing her presence. It wasn’t a choice he had to think hard about. He wanted to see her again. But, he wanted her tonight.

He leaned in and kissed her lips gently, pulling away before it could turn into anything more.

“Option two, please.” He noticed her eyes light up, but restrained himself. He could just kiss her all night, if she’d let him. He watched her leave the couch and disappear into another room. He took the opportunity to steady his breathing, and hopefully, calm himself down. She returned with an armful of blankets and pillows. He took them from her, and she stepped away, putting more distance between them than necessary.

“I have some old pajama shorts and a t-shirt from an ex, if you would like something more comfy to sleep in.” She offered, tossing a thumb behind her. He nodded as he made up the couch, not watching her disappear upstairs. She came back quickly and handed them off. He tried not to imagine who had left these behind, which option they had picked.

“Goodnight, Frankie. Kitchen is that way if you need water or anything. Bathroom is there, and I apologize for not having more sleepover supplies, it’s been...awhile.” She apologized, laughing. He waved her off.

“Goodnight, Ms. Collins. Sweet dreams.” He watched her retreat slowly upstairs before turning back to the couch. He was in trouble.

~~~

June tossed for a few hours before relenting. She’d never get to sleep otherwise, she told herself as she slipped her hand beneath her cotton shorts. No, she was too worked up, she reasoned as she made contact with her clit. She came hard in only a few minutes, thinking about how hard Frankie had been against her on the couch. She had been frantic, trying to slow them down, for her own sake. She was already falling hard for him; she didn’t need amazing sex to be the last nail in her coffin. She felt like she knew him, intimately, already. It was ridiculous, she kept reminding herself. It was someone who she had only met less than a week ago. She shouldn’t have invited him into her house. She didn’t need to see him in the morning light to confirm her fears. She had moaned his name into her pillow as she came; no, she knew just what she was in for.

She groaned as she remembered what she had said. “Fuck you out of my system?” She whispered again in the dark, cringing. Who was she? She didn’t talk like that. She taught six year olds. She tried to breathe deeply, and not go into a full-blown panic attack. How had she never gotten any better at flirting? She was grown, she could hook up and still have a relationship.

June squeezed her eyes shut against the memories threatening to crowd her, and reasoned she had made the better choice. They had been drinking, and it was too convenient. Hopefully, he didn’t think she was a psycho for inviting him over, making out with him hard, and then turning him down cold. Well, not cold, but lukewarm. She groaned again. Why was she acting like a teenager? She never fretted like this. Her mom’s cold words flashed in her mind, and she shuddered against them, willing them away. Too late, she thought about Terry.

Terrance, the one who had convinced her to move away from everyone. The one who had promised her everything, and then left her empty. The one who had no kind words or touches for her. The one who had left the taste of rust in her mouth.

She blinked against the tears, and tried to think about Frankie downstairs instead. All she could remember was the gruffness at the farmer’s market, the harsh words at the school, the disappointment in his eyes at dinner, and the coldness after she had turned down sex. She hugged herself tighter and tried to think about the soft touches he had given, the tender kiss, the personal stories, and the deep laugh she was falling in love with.

It was no use, she decided. Mid-spiral, she wasn’t good enough for anyone. She was glad she hadn’t invited him up. She was glad she wouldn’t be used by another man. She would drop him off in the morning, and then that would be that. If she didn’t start loving herself, no one would.

~~~

Frankie stretched against the soft material as light started trickling in through the blinds. He could hear the birds outside, and he whistled softly in tune. He folded the bedding, and padded to the kitchen.

After looking around a bit, he settled on coffee and pancakes. He had noticed the canned tomatoes in the cupboard, and made a note to ask June if they were the ones she had bought from him. He got busy mixing the pancakes together while the coffee brewed. He hadn’t slept so good in years. He had expected a sore back, at least, but that damn couch was probably better than his lumpy old mattress. He cut some berries up, while the pancakes were frying, and smiled as he heard June walk in.

“Morning!” He greeted, cheerfully. She winced, and he let a small chuckle out. “Sorry, uhm, coffee’s ready.” She nodded, but didn’t say anything else. He turned back to the oven, wondering if she just wasn’t a morning person. He noticed she felt colder this morning, and hoped it was because she was hungover.

“You were right about the couch, super comfortable.” He told her as she settled in at the counter. She only nodded, which he barely caught. He turned to face her, one hand on his hip and the other holding the spatula.

“Everything okay?” She nodded again, and he frowned. Something was definitely wrong, but if she wasn’t telling him what could he do. He made her a plate of pancakes and berries, and made one for himself. He sat down beside her, and she ate in silence. In fact, she didn’t say anything to him until they made it back to his truck.

“Have a nice day.” She had mumbled, her lips tight. He gaped a bit before getting out, and slamming the door a little harder than he had meant to. He got into his truck as she sped off, and he slammed the door.

“What the fuck was that?” He asked the steering wheel.

“Whatever,” He said, tightly, throwing the truck into drive.

[johnismyreason]

Hell on Earth (one) // KOH!TomHolland x Human!Reader

Summary: Tom, Prince of Hell and only heir to the throne, is sent to Earth by his parents as a punishment. He ends up in an odd city full of the worst humans, except one, who, despite not knowing who he truly is, decides to help him.

I have this idea since this summer and I was way too lazy and busy to put it down. This is going to be a series so if you want to be tagged for next chapters, you can send it in the ask box, and also tell me what you thought of it ! I really hope you’ll enjoy it my loves :) 

oh ! also this is my thousandth post ! Thank you so much for following me and enjoying my work, it means the world to me ! 

Warnings: sort of panick attack, cursing, bad English bc I’m French and other mistakes.

/////////////////////////////////////

“Wait... What do you mean I’m banned ?” Tom huffed, not believing what he just heard. 

His voice resonated in the gigantic throne room where his parents, the King and Queen of Hell were sat, holding hands. The room was cold, just like every other room in this castle, even though outside the weather was hot, dry, almost stifling. 

“Tom, we asked you multiple time to take your responsibilities as the future King of Hell, and instead you kept partying, having fun, hanging out with the wrong people.” explained his father “You’re not a child anymore” Tom’s heart was beating so fast making his breath was heavy. 

The young prince was known for his love for partying, being carefree and for never taking his responsibilities. Tom was the sole heir to the throne, so he knew he wouldn’t be in competition with anyone else. However he saw that as an opportunity to do whatever he wanted, more than a heavy burden to save the honour of his family. 

He looked at his father and his mother alternately, trying to process. Tom finally stoped his sight on his mother who was as disappointed as his father. Normally, she always takes his defence, try to smooth the King’s fury, but not this time. 

“Mother...” whispered Tom full of despair, looking for help, but she only looked down, hiding her sad eyes. “Father, you can’t ban me forever ! Who’s going to be the next King ?” 

“I’m not banning you forever, my son” the King rose from his throne and walked slowly towards Tom. “I know Hell must have a King or Queen no matter what. I am banning you until the moment you are responsible, respectable and grown enough to become King.” 

“That makes no sense !” Tom exclaimed flying his hands up and looking at the ceiling. “I am responsible, respectable and grown ! I am the result of the education you taught me my whole life and-”

“You don’t speak to me like that, Thomas !” cut the King when Tom started raising his voice. “You are in no position to say anything.” Tom pinched his lips to stop him from yelling again and breathed with his nostrils. His father was now right in front of him, standing tall. “You leave immediately.” 

“Immediately ?! But... But where to ? How am I gonna live ?” 

“Earth” simply responded the King. Tom puffed the breath he didn’t he was holding, his arms getting heavier. 

“Earth ?” he repeated. His father nodded his head. “Dad...” the king flinched hearing this name. It wasn’t forbidden just... unusual. “I can’t go to Earth.” Tom’s eyes are dangerously filling with tears but he knows that letting them fall won’t change anything. “Please give me another chance, I’ll do anything-”

“You will do as I said. You will go to Earth. End of discussion.” The King turned his back to Tom and walked back to his throne next to his wife who was now slightly crying. Tom ran to his mother, fell on his knees and took her hands in his, begging her to do something. 

“Mother please, don’t let me go, I promise I will behave, I’ll be the King you’re waiting for, you’re wanting me to be. P-please...” Tom was no longer holding his tears back. The Queen withdrew her hands sharply from Tom's grasp. 

“Tom, you will go to Earth as the King ordered. You will be able to come back when you are ready to take his place.” The Queen of Hell stood up and forced Tom to do the same. They faced for a few seconds trying to speak without words. The Queen was disappointed, angry and sad to see that her son was not the young King she hoped for to see, but instead was this childish, selfish and reckless prince only interested in loosing himself in every creature and drugs he could find at parties. His mother embraced him, holding him as close as she can before he leaves. After all, he’s still her only child.

“Don’t ever disappoint me like that, Tom” she whispered in his ear. Tom shivered in her arms, felling guilty to cause her this much pain. “Find a reason to be wise. This is Hell, a kingdom. Not anarchy. I will miss you my love” she sobbed and Tom buried his face in the crook of her neck, like he used to when his heart was aching as a child. 

“Mom, please don’t let me go...” his whimpers muffled in his mother’s hair. She pulled back and took Tom’s face in her hands to look at him one last time. 

“Find her” she softly smiled. Tom looked confused at the Queen, before feeling an odd warmth in his chest. 

Looking down at it, he saw a red light consuming him rapidly spreading across his body. He stepped back and hit his chest trying to take this light off of him. He knew what it meant. He saw multiple times people getting banned from Hell. Traitors, fallen demons, even his uncle. The light was taking his whole body, there was nothing Tom could have done to stop it. He raised his frightened eyes to his parents who looked at him without any emotion, when he vanished in a flash of light dust. 

///////////////////////////////

Tom doesn’t really know how he ended up in a refrigerator but as soon as he felt the cold on his skin he bursted out of it, earning little surprised screams and confused looks from the people in the grocery store. Tom looked around before heading out running. He stopped in the middle of the road when he heard a car honking at him and stoping right before him. 

“Get out of here asshole !” screamed the driver. Tom, whom was really not accustomed to be talked like that, stretched out his hand to use his power to torture the man. But, nothing happened. 

“My powers...” he mumbled. 

“What the hell are you doing, you fucking freak ?! I said get out of here !” and almost without warning, the driver hit the gas, giving Tom just the time to push himself on the side. 

He ran to the boardwalk and started walking fast, his head turning in all directions to find an issue to this nightmare. He heard people complaining about him and his weird behaviour but he couldn’t care less. He was alone, on Earth and literally powerless. He’s used to people being around him but they were always at his mercy. The noise, the heat, he knew all about it, but what he was experiencing right now was really not as delightful as the screams of sinners begging for the torture to stop. That was music to his ear. Not this mess that sounded like the worst carnival ever. He kept walking without knowing where to, his heart beating so fast and hard against his chest. Dripping in sweat, his muscles tensed, all your senses on alert, Tom thought he was going to die. 

“Sir ?!” a sweet but worried voice took him out of his invading thoughts. It seemed like the young lady owning this chanting voice was trying to call him a few times already. “Sir, do you hear me ? Are you okay ?” she was holding his shoulders to steady him. Tom’s eyes stared at her and all of her features. She was strangely reassuring and familiar, and she gave off a light that normally would have scared him away. She kept holding his gaze until she had an answer from Tom. 

“U-uh y-yeah, yeah...” Tom stuttered. “I’m fine”

“You really don’t seem fine” she questioned, her hands still on his shoulders but her grip loosened, since Tom calmed down a little. 

“I’m just... lost” he replied. 

“Oh. Do you leave around ?” 

“Not really, no.” Tom chuckled. 

“Then, how did you end up here ?” she frowned and let her hands fall to her side, and Tom immediately missed the protecting weight of her delicate hands on his body. 

“I-I... don’t know ?” 

“You don’t know ? But- oooh, I get it” she nodded her hand side to side with a cheeky smile “partied too much uh ?” the lady chuckled. 

“Is that so obvious ?” Tom jumped on the opportunity to escape from the irrational yet real reason on why he looked like an lost elephant in the middle of the Antarctic. 

“Well... yeah.” she chuckled shrugging her shoulders. Her laugh made Tom reaching another level of calm and let himself smile back at her. “Can I help you in any way ?”

Tom couldn’t believe it. He’s been on Earth for twenty minutes and already seen the worst of it and humans, even though he lived where all the worst people end up in the after life. But she, with soft words and light hands, has managed to lower the level of absolute nightmare to bearable. 

“Um...” Tom thought of how he could tell her that he didn’t know anyone, didn’t have a place to live and couldn’t tell her where he was coming from. “No, I’m gonna be alright” he shrugged, scrunching his nose. 

“Are you sure ?” she asked surprised. “You looked pretty panicked and disoriented just a few seconds ago, I don’t want anything bad to happen to you”. Tom’s heart skipped a bit. She didn’t know him and yet she worried about him. If only she knew who he was, she would never care about me so much, thought Tom. 

“Don’t worry I got it” the curly boy responded nicely. 

“Ok... well, if you need anything, I work at the bakery down the street, at Patty’s. Don’t hesitate to come visit me.” She smiled so brightly, the light in her shone stronger, calling Tom to embrace it. 

“Thank you, this is very... nice.” Nice ? What is nice ? Tom only knew pettiness in his kingdom. 

“You’re welcome ! And don’t worry, this city looks like Hell but it’s really not that bad” she giggled. The prince rose his brows and smiled slightly at her warning. Tell me about Hell. “Well, um... bye.” she waved a little at him – and he held back the urging desire to take it in his to place a delicate kiss on it – and walked passed him, turning her head back for a final look.  

Tom sighed heavily thinking that nobody will help him anymore and that he had to find a place to sleep at least for tonight. He wandered the whole day around the city of... London ? At least that’s what he heard from other people. Why this place, though ? Who chose it for him ? Is it his father ? His mother ? A random counsellor ? The fallen prince had no answer but approximately a thousand questions. 

The sun was setting down, illuminating the London’s sky with a bright pink and purple light. People were either going home or going out to party. I could use a party, thought Tom. But he shook this idea out of his brain. He was on Earth for this exact reason. I could use a bed, actually. Without noticing it, Tom went back to the square he met... Satan, I don’t even know her name ! He thought of going to that bakery and ask her for help. Maybe she knows where he can sleep tonight. Maybe she can invite him to her place. Maybe... maybe he should not bother her with his problems. Ugh ! Tom grunted in despair and cursed his parents for the deep shit he’s in. His head turned around when he heard giggles and high heels tapping the pavement. A group of girlfriends was heading to a bar to celebrate someone’s birthday. They were pretty. Tom’s feet took the lead, and walked him towards the same bar, where music – awful music he thought – was blasting. He hesitated to go inside and then thought a drink wouldn't hurt him. He has already drunk far worse than the poor human drinks. One glass, that's all. And Tom walked into the bar, his heart racing with excitement.

///////////////////////////////////

That was one drink too much. When Tom slowly emerged from his sleep, his head was banging like crazy. He squeezed his eyes open, blinded by light coming directly on his face, his hand before his sight. He then only realised where he was. Laid on a bed, his head resting on a soft pillow, under a warm blanket... naked... next to a girl, naked too... oh, actually two girls. Tom rose out from the bed. With a pillow to cover him, the party boy looked for his clothes that were spread on the floor, and put them back. That looks too familiar. He then tried to proceed to get out of the bedroom but tripped on one of the girl’s high heels.

“Damn it !” he grunted, waking up... Stacey ? 

“Uhmm Tom ? What are you doing ?” she mumbled coming out of her dreams. 

“I... go. Bye.” He opened the door and motioned out. 

“Wait ! When are we meeting again ?” she asked dropping herself with the blanket, leaving her friend fully naked. “We had a lot of fun last night” she walked closer to him, lingering a finger on his chest and biting her lip. She’s pretty. 

“Never.” He took her wrist out of his chest and said “Look, Stacey-”

“Chloe” she corrected shooting him with her eyes. 

“Shit, I knew it.” he said between his teeth. “Look, Chloe, we had fun, yes, but uhh, you see, we won’t do it again.” 

“Why ?” she looked disappointed 

“You’re not my best shot in bed. ‘Didn’t blow my mind. So, yeah... Bye !” and just like that, Tom steeped out of the appartement under a rain of insults from the now very angry girl. It always made him laugh. Playing with girls, taking what he wants from them and never apologise. 

But now what ? Back to the starting point, Tom was a wandering soul in London. His head was killing him from all of the alcohol he had. It shouldn’t be hurting him this much. Human’s beverages were poor and weak. He never understood why alcoholic sinners were so addicted to this. It’s not even good ! His feet were dragging him through the wakening city and he felt his stomach growled. 

“How the hell did I end up here again ?” Tom mumbled scratching his scalp. He was back on the square his life saver left him yesterday. It’s maybe a sign, thought Tom. A sign ? What sign ? Tom didn’t have much more time to think before his stomach screamed for food. “Guess I don’t have any other choice” he sighed and began to walk towards the bakery. 

When he arrived, the prince of Hell, discovered a bright colour painted shop, with a few tables and a window full of pastries, sandwiches and cakes. His mouth watering at the sight, he could have smashed the window and eaten it all. 

“You ? Hi !” said a melodic voice. Tom snapped his head up to look at you. What an angel.

“Hi... You remember me ?” asked Tom 

“I do, yeah ! Um, how are you doing ?” you smiled 

“Perfect !” responded enthusiastically Tom, his hands behind his back. 

“Yeah ?”

“No, I lied.” he admitted immediately, taking you by surprise. You blinked a few times not knowing what to say. “I’m in deep shit actually” 

“Umm, wow, ok... so how can I help you ?”

“First, can I know your name ?”

You shook your head lightly realizing that indeed, you never told each other’s names “Oh yeah, I’m Y/N. You ?”

“My name’s Tom, prin- just Tom” he cut himself from using the old and vanished way of presenting himself.

“Ok, just Tom,” you giggled trying to relax, “what’s next ?”

“Next, could you offer me something to eat and drink and seat with me so I can expose you my, uhh, situation”. That was bold of him to ask you to give you food when you were still strangers to each other.

But you didn’t hesitate “Sure ! What would you like ?” You demanded with the biggest smile. How is it possible to be so nice ?

“The tuna sandwich please ?” What ? I don’t even like tuna ! It’s because of that smile...

“Great ! Have a seat and I’ll join you right away” you both nodded at each other and Tom chose a table that was the farrest from the counter. While waiting for you, he fought of how he could tell you that he’s actually the Prince of Hell, whom was banned by his parents to teach him a lesson, and didn’t know why he ended up here, in London, but however he still needs a place to live for a few days, or weeks, or month... or years. Tom let out a deep breath and played with his fingers.

This is gonna be easy. Right ?

_______________________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @theamuz @shayminisshiny @lovewolfspirit @mybabyboytony @justamessandahalf @kenzieee000 @maybemona​ @bailey8211 @smallheathgangsters @skymoonandstardust​ @fangirlfree @geesquariid @tcf1​ @mycomealongpond11 @osterfieldnholland​ @seutarose @sailingintothenight​ @peterbparkerth @hollanddolanfangirl

[radiorenjun]

Rain Rituals || Z.CL

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x Reader

Genre: Comedy, fluff

Summary: Chenle's high school life was more than tedious to say the least. That is when he caught you screaming under the rain.

Warning: fluff. Comedy. Mentions of detention. Second hand embarrassment. Cliché

Wordcount: 2.8K (it's short)

A/n: please ignore my terrible editing skills and happy birthday Chenle!

Chenle was just a simple rich high school boy who, like any other student, just wants to get school and exams over with as soon as possible. He was bored of waking up everyday only for the same exact thing to happen over and over again.

Wake up. Eat. Go to school. Endure hell for 6 hours straight. Go home. Eat. Study. Sleep.

Repeat.

It was boring to say the least. Chenle wanted something to spice up his life, anything to make life more worth living. He wasn’t one to pay attention to whatever’s happening around him, he just wasn’t interested. But one faithful day, a chaotic social hazard of a Chemistry classmate of his decided to change that. Well, technically, the situation was unexpected and absolutely ludicrous for the young boy’s mind to comprehend.

It was a cold, raining evening. Chenle was just getting out of basketball practice, sweat trickling down his forehead as he slung his backpack over his shoulder. Chenle was just on his way to the parking lot, fumbling with the car keys in his hand, his uniform blazer draped over his head to prevent him from getting even more wet than he already is. 

A loud scream pierced the quiet atmosphere, causing Chenle to flinch at the sudden sound. His head rapidly turned to see where the scream had come from before his eyes squinted at a blurry figure standing in the middle of the school garden. 

‘What the fuck?’

Curiosity kills the cat, as they say.

Chenle went closer to the figure who let out another alarming scream, his brows furrowed in confusion as the figure became clearer and clearer with every step. The soles of his new Air Jordan’s making soft sounds as they made contact with the puddles that formed on the ground.

He leaned his head to the side when he was close enough to see the figure clearly. His eyes widened to see none other than you, the class clown of his grade. Also known as ‘That Girl Beside Me Who Wrote Three Pages Worth Of A Test Answer To Spite The Teacher’.

You were quite infamous for your extroverted demeanor. Making friends and cracking jokes left and right as if it was as simple as breathing air. Joking around and riling up teachers as if they were your closest friends.

To Chenle, you were quite peculiar.

But the sight before him was more than odd. You were standing soaking wet in the rain with your arms stretched out, your hair sticking to your forehead as you leaned your head up as if you were doing some kind of satanic ritual or religious sacrifice. 

You let out another scream before groaning in frustration. “Jesus Christ!” you cursed out, kicking a puddle with your shoes as if it would do anything to make your frustrations go away.

Chenle just stood awkwardly not far behind you as he watched you throw a mini tantrum for whatever reason, his pupils dilating in concern with a frown on his lips. ‘This is just sad and embarrassing,’ he thought with a shake of his head.

The second hand embarrassment Chenle felt as he watched you push your wet hair back, letting the raindrops hit your face was almost as extravagant as the time when he watched his seniors attempt to flirt with one of his classmates.

 A part of him wanted to just leave before someone (or you) catches him staring at you with a look of disappointment and sympathy. But another part of him was interested to see what you were whining on about in the middle of a heavy rain at 4:57 PM in the evening when you could be doing all this nonsense in the comforts of your own home like a normal person.

“God dammit!” you cursed once again. “Why the fuck am I single!?” 

Chenle’s frown deepened when he heard those words exit your mouth. ‘Seriously?’ he thought with a click of his tongue, ‘she’s screaming out here like a lunatic all because she’s single?’ 

“Come on! Being single is a choice, right? I didn’t choose to be the only single one in all of my friend groups, so why the fuck am I single?” You rambled, letting out a loud groan afterwards. Chenle shook his head in disappointment, he wanted to walk away instead of looking at whatever you were doing. But yet again, he was far too entertained to even look away.

“Oh God.” you clasped your hands together, intertwining your fingers and shutting your eyes tighty. “ If you can hear me up there. If you can hear me screaming my lungs out like a lunatic. Please, oh please, give me a fucking boyfriend! I think I deserved that much for being good for all my life, right?”  You paused at the last part, opening an eye as if to rethink your words before you shut them tight again. “Well for the most part of it, anyways!” you added.

Chenle couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight, his arms crossing as he let out a soft laugh. ‘This is just getting really sad, I almost feel bad for her.’ he thought before looking down at his Apple Watch, eyes widened at what time it was. He turned to make a run to his car, pulling out his car keys to unlock it.

As Chenle dried himself off with the spare towel he usually keeps in the compartment box of his car, he made a mental note to himself to bring this up to you the next time he sees you. He’s sure that your reaction to him having blackmail is just going to be absolutely satisfying.

You were sitting in your desk, listening to your friend ramble about the things she did with her significant other after school the other day. A small sad smile forming on your lips as you try to listen to her conversation without feeling too sad about your pathetic, almost nonexistent, love life. 

But yet again, it’s been a couple of days since you threw a tantrum at the school garden. Cursing at the sky and rain to give you a boyfriend. Only for the principal to come up to you to tell you to go home and get some rest, her expression filled with worry and concern. She probably thought you had your screws loose. And honestly, you couldn’t blame her.

You screamed till the boys at the basketball team had already gone home, your parents scolding you for being out so late in the rain. You spent two days in bed with a fever, worrying if anyone saw you acting like a delusional maniac for two hours straight. But you were relieved to see that it’s been a while since your little outburst and nobody had brought up the topic of you screaming and yelling in the middle of the rain.

Not even the janitors.

That is until you had your Chemistry class. 

Your desk mate, who was none other than the infamous Chinese rich boy, Chenle came up to you with a grin spread across his face. You had never spoken to Chenle before, mostly because he was quite cute and you didn’t know what to say to someone so adorable and quiet.

You were just minding your own business, jotting down notes that your friend lent you because you couldn’t make it to school last class because of said fever. “Hey,” Chenle greeted, nodding at you as he placed his bag on his chair. You look up in surprise, eyes widening slightly at the fact that Chenle was actually talking to you and starting a conversation with you.

“Hi?” your throat was dry as your mind went blank, trying to use your extrovert powers to desperately try to come up with something to keep the conversation going. “What’s up?” you added, looking down at your notebook as you continued jotting down notes. Chenle sat on his chair, staring at you with a suspicious smirk spread across his lips.

“Can I ask you something?”

You hummed a small ‘yes’ under your breath, eyes scanning your notes.

“You have to answer it truthfully, though.”

You replied with another small hum, nodding slightly.

“Were you that girl screaming like a lunatic in the middle of the rain the other day?” he asked with a casual hum. His words made your hand stop writing, your eyes going wide as you felt your heart almost stop beating. ‘Shit. Oh god. Oh Dear God, no. You can’t do this to me,’ you thought with a nervous bite of your lip. 

You attempted to shrug it off casually, keeping an emotionless expression as you continued writing on your notebook. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you responded, feeling your heartbeat nervously against your chest. Chenle’s smirk widened at the way you gulped nervously and avoided eye contact when he brought it up.

“You sure? I’m pretty sure I saw you kicking and stomping puddles the other day, cursing and what-not,” Chenle taunted, watching as your hand weakened their grip on your pen. You cleared your throat, “again, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Really? You sure you weren’t the girl who screamed ‘Dear God, give me a damn boyfriend already?!’ in the middle of the school garden like some kind of deranged maniac?”

“You saw that?!” you gasped, your head shooting up to glare at him with wide eyes. You then cupped your mouth when you realised you accidentally gave yourself away. Chenle let out a laugh, pointing a finger at your reaction. “Called it! So you were the girl doing a satanic ritual the other day!” he exclaimed, an amused smile playing at his lips.

You frowned, rolling your eyes as you looked back down at your paper. “Shut up, Zhong Chenle,” you grumbled with a small pout on your lips. “Come on, Y/n. What the hell happened to make you go all bat-shit crazy like that? I mean, not gonna lie it was quite amusing, you should definitely do it again,” he chuckled, leaning his chin against his hand, his elbow propped up on his desk.

You gave an exasperated sigh, looking up at him with a tired expression. “God I wished I took a video of it. Sadly, my phone ran out of battery at that time,” he added with an innocent smile. “You done? I get it, I publicly embarrassed myself. Is there anything you would like to add to that?” Your lips twitched in annoyance when Chenle took a moment to actually think of an answer.

“Give me a minute,” he hummed.

“That was a rhetorical question,” you frowned.

“I publicly embarrass myself on a daily basis, Chenle. What do you want from me?” you let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head at the boy. “Threatening to spread the information isn’t going to embarrass me that much. I’ve done worse things,” you added, finishing the last few words of your notes. 

“No shit, you walked into the boys bathroom to hide from some guy.” Chenle exclaimed with a laugh. “Survival is a reasonable explanation. I still wanted to live, you know! I’ll have you know I only got two weeks of detention for it,” you closed your notebook with a huff, getting up from your seat.

“And was your little tantrum under the rain another part of your survival instincts?” Chenle provoked, causing you to clench your teeth. “I don’t think doing a religious sacrifice on a rainy school day can be called survival, Y/n. Especially whining about how single you are,” he snorted against his palm.

You flushed in embarrassment, turning your body away as you grabbed the notes you borrowed from your classmate. “Shut up. I should’ve performed a demonic ritual to wipe you off of the face of the earth instead,” you spat back, walking away from your shared desk to head on over to your classmate’s.

“It still won’t get you a boyfriend, though.” Was the last words Chenle said to you before you walked away.

It was safe to say you had to apologize to your friend for crumpling their notes.

“I still can’t believe screaming like a lunatic under the rain actually works,” you shuddered, sipping your hot cocoa with a traumatized expression. It’s been almost a year since then. You graduated high school, now you’re in your first year of college.

It was honestly a surprising journey but a couple months after your little tantrum, you manage to find yourself an actual boyfriend, who you now share a flat with. It’s all just ironic really, you screaming under the rain like a deranged psycho was supposed to be something to laugh at in the near future.

But now, the story became even more laughable when the world decided to drop your boyfriend right in front of you not too soon afterwards. Even though you didn’t get along very well at first, it was still pretty worth it, if you say so.

“You still can’t believe what, babe?” you heard your boyfriend call out from the kitchen, the sound of his spoon stirring inside one of your ceramic mugs hitting the air. You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head as you scrolled through your old picture file on your laptop. Pictures you and your friends took before you all graduated high school to capture your last moments with each other.

“Remember the day I screamed and cursed at the sky because I was tired of being single?” you laughed, remembering the moment as if it happened only yesterday. There was a small pause before a loud dolphin-like laugh pierced your ears. “Oh my god, that was so iconic!” he exclaimed, tapping the spoon against the edge of the mug.

“Right? God it was so embarrassing! I finally stopped when I realised the principal was going home. Damn, thank god I didn’t get detention,” you joked, opening a picture of you and your boyfriend laughing and smiling under the heavy rain. “I’m still pissed off that I didn’t record it, it could’ve pinpoint the day I decided to talk to you,” Chenle chuckled, coming out of the kitchen with a mug of his own.

“Shut up, I know for a fact you’re never going to let it go if you actually did record it,” you stuck your tongue out teasingly, scooting over to the edge of the couch to make room for him to sit. “Indeed, it could’ve gone viral, you know. I could post it on Tik Tok or Youtube with the caption ‘Girl Screams At How Single She Is Not Knowing That Her Future Boyfriend Is Standing Right Behind Her, Recording Her For Epic Black Mail!’” Chenle grinned, emphasizing his words with his hand.

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up, I hate you,” you huffed, pushing the laptop closer to the two of you so he could see. “What are you looking at by the way?” he asked, leaning over to see your screen clearly as he sipped his beverage. “Old photos from high school, you were way more annoying then,” you commented, giggling.

“I’m not annoying now?” he raised his brow at you, making you grin. “You still are, don’t worry. Just slightly less than back when we started dating,” you pinched his cheek gingerly causing him to chuckle. “That means I’m not doing my job as a good boyfriend,” he pouted, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Chenle, no.” You shook your head at him.

“Chenle, yes.” He nodded with a cheeky grin.

“I’m breaking up with you,” you deadpanned, turning away from him to continue scrolling. “Sure you would,” he said sarcastically, wrapping an arm around you lovingly. “You love me too much to even think about breaking up,” he said, grabbing your cheeks in both of his palms, turning your head to make you look at him. He pressed your cheeks together, making your lips pucker up for him to press a loving kiss against them.

“Remind me why I like you so much?” you mumbled against his lips before he pulled away. He hummed, thinking it over for a moment. “I’m just too damn amazing. Plus, a clown like yourself deserves someone to over-clown you,” he giggled. “I prefer the term ‘rival’ because over-clowning  isn’t a thing but go off, I guess.” you let out a soft laugh, nuzzling your nose against his.

“Maybe you should do what I did and start screaming at the rain to make us rich,” you suggested.

“Y/n, no. You’re not funny.”

[sunfloweradoring]

the one where five become four

masterlist

Hey everyone! I just wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone that has been following my writing recently, it’s absolutely insane to think nearly 300 people have read a couple of them! It means the world to me, so thank you <3 K xxx

word count: 2.7k

The boys had been on tour for a matter of months now; I couldn’t actually remember the last time I physically saw Harry. However, what got me through the lonely nights and long hours we couldn’t speak to each other was the knowledge I had - knowing he was doing what he loved and enjoyed above all else. There was only a few weeks of tour to go before they would all be home and with the people who loved them.

Everyone seemed just that little bit extra excited at this tour break because Zayn was to be getting married in this interlude. Perrie had kindly asked me to be a part of the wedding party, meaning me (along with many others of her close friends) had been beavering away back home, rigorously planning away from the wedding that seemed to be speeding towards us faster than we could process.

It made me so happy to see her so looking forward to the marriage - it was evident how she felt about him; and I couldn’t help but think about what it would be like for my own wedding. This year would be mine and Harry’s fifth together, and it only encouraged the small flame of excitement within me. Of course we’d spoken about marriage and the future we could have together, but he was yet to pop the question. I knew that it was definitely something I could do myself, but there was something in me that really wanted it to be Harry that asked me to be his wife - for the rest of our lives. 

I didn’t mind though, I was beyond happy where we were in our relationship currently. I felt so lucky to be a part of his hectic life and I loved to hear all the tour stories each time we got to sneak in a phone call or text. 

He really was the love of my life.

I couldn’t contain the smile that was threatening to come across my lips as I dialled Harry’s number and patiently listened to the dialling tone.

“Hello, love.” Harry’s gravely tone greeted me. Almost instantly, a frown took over my features as I pulled the phone away from my ear to quickly inspect the time. I’d been careful to leave my call late enough in the day to avoid waking him; yet his voice sounded like I’d done just that.

“Hiya, baby.” I gently responded. “Did I wake you up? I thought it was the afternoon or something there?” I questioned, leaning my body back against the pillows of our bed, my right hand absentmindedly stroking over his side of the bed as I spoke. There was a brief amount of shuffling on the other side of the phone before he spoke again.

“Y-yeah, it’s like three or something.” He replied. Now I was a little concerned. It really wasn’t like Harry at all to be so blunt on our phone calls - especially after so many weeks apart. Perhaps he was just feeling the distance particularly hard today, or recording hadn’t quite gone as smoothly as hoped. 

“You alright, Haz?” I was careful to keep my voice soft and smooth to prevent him from detecting my concern. 

“One sec,” Harry quickly replied before I heard his voice again, this time, though, at a distance from the phone. “Mate, I’m on the phone,” There was a muffled response from whoever ‘mate’ was. “No, I don’t wanna keep talking about it. We’re all in the same boat, here, I think we’ve talked about it enough for one day, don’t you think?” There was a brief moment of silence before: “You still there?”  I hummed in response, now completely confused as to what was taking place on his side of the the phone. 

“Baby...” My voice was met with a loud huff.

“Zayn’s thinking of taking a break.” He suddenly said. “He said he’s feeling too pressured and wants to go home for a week before coming back and continuing the tour.” Whatever I was expecting to be wrong, it certainly wasn’t anything like that.

“What?”

“He said we’ve been doing this almost nonstop for years and that he needs time to go home and breathe.”

“Oh my god.” I muttered, hand pushing the hair from my face. “Have you guys been talking about it all day? Is that what you just said?”

“Yeah; he just announced it at breakfast this morning and then just kinda shut himself in his room. He missed all the recording we were meant to be doing today. I don’t even know if he’s gonna come to the show tonight.”

“What are the others saying about it?” 

“Liam and Niall seem to having some sort of existential crisis about it. But honestly I’ve never seen Louis so angry before in my life.” As he spoke his words seemed to become more and more strained. 

“And you?” I spoke after he finished.

“What about me?”

“How do you feel about it?” His sniffles told me all I really needed to know but he did speak up after a minute.

“God I feel so conflicted.” His tone was a mixture of frustration, sadness and pure disappointment. I didn’t speak, allowing him time to continue. “This is like... the best thing that’s ever happened to me; this opportunity to go around doing things I love in different parts of the world, meeting fans, you know? And yeah, of course I understand the pressure he’s going on about; we’ve been putting out an album basically every year since X-Factor, but at the same time, it doesn’t feel like a chore - it’s something I want to do. It’s something we all want to do!” Pause. “Well, I thought we all wanted to do it.” He added quietly. I really felt at a loss for words. I’d never heard Harry sound so manic before and I worried what would come of this new situation. 

“Are you coming home?” I asked.

“N-no. Well, at least, I don’t think we are. I think it’s just him.” Another silence came over the phone. I really didn’t know what to say to him that would make it any better. “Baby...” Harry trailed off.

“Yeah?”

“Can you come? I just... I just really need you here right now.” I could hear him feverishly fighting back tears.

“Do you want me to come?”

“Yeah...” It almost sounded like a child, desperately calling for the comfort of his mother.

“Of course I can, my love. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

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

I managed to get a late night flight out that same day, getting me in the next day, early morning for his timezone. The hours on the plane seemed to pass at a snail’s pace; I couldn’t contact Harry; I couldn’t see if there was any news about anything for that period of time - only fuelling my anxiety at the situation. 

Finally, though, the plane landed and I was able to get into the airport, through immigration and retrieve my bag without too much delay. My knee nervously bounced against the floor of the car the entire ride towards the hotel. Harry had already notified the reception that I was to be arriving, so they gave me a key to the room without trouble. I almost ran to the lift, pressing the button about four times; as if it somehow sped up the process. 

I scanned the numbers on the walls next to the doors as I made my way down the corridor; I was pretty sure that this entire floor was dedicated to the boys and their extensive team, but I wasn’t about to waste time knocking on a million different doors. As I came closer to the end of the corridor I could hear shouting from inside room 803. I quickly glanced down at my phone, open on the text Harry had sent me with the information for the hotel.

‘Mine is 803, they should give you a key but I’ll leave it open for you xxx’

I huffed out a breath, pulling my small suitcase to a stop as I reached out for the door-handle. Before I could pull it, however, the door swung open and a red faced Niall was stood in front of me. 

Since 2011 Niall had become one of my best friends. A part from Harry (obviously) he was the one I was closest to in the band. We shared many things and I’d often been the one he called for advice on girls, or even held him (in a purely platonic way, of course) as he cried about his most recent heartbreak. He’d also been my shoulder to cry on in the times Harry and I experienced a particularly tough fight and was always willing to help both of us out in any way he could. His surprise to be met with me was evident in the way he spoke my name.

“Hey.” He cleared his throat, rubbing his palm roughly against his face. “I guess you’ve heard, then?” He asked, stepping to the side to allow me to enter the room, seeming to have forgotten about his departure of the space.

“Yeah.” I nodded in sympathy, reaching out to rub a soothing hand up and down his arm. 

“I just can’t fucking believe he could do this.” Harry came into my view as Niall spoke, his eyes red rimmed. 

“He’s just stressed, I’m sure he’ll come round. Just let him go home for a few days and cool off.” I suggested, walking towards Harry to pull him into a hug. 

“Let him go home?” Niall repeated.

“She doesn’t know, Niall. She’s just got here.” Harry speaks, voice croaky. 

“Don’t know what?” I asked, keeping my arms around Harry’s middle as I pulled away enough to look up at him. 

“He’s gone.”

“Gone?” I spoke Niall’s words again, looking between the two men in the room in utter confusion. “What do you mean he’s gone?” Harry pulled away, taking my hand to lead me towards the sofa in the room as Niall pushed the door closed and followed us. Harry and I sat, legs touching, on the sofa as Niall sunk down into the chair opposite. 

“Well you know that I said he just made the announcement at breakfast yesterday?” Harry asked, leaning back in the cushions, arm slung over the back of the furniture behind me. I nodded, urging him to continue. “He just stayed in his room pretty much all of yesterday; he spoke to Lou before the rest of us left for the show, he didn’t come, even though he said he would.”

“He was gone by the time we got back.” Niall finished. 

“Oh my god.” I breathed, my head falling into my hands. “Well what the hell does that mean?” 

“We don’t know.” Harry replied. Both men looked in a right state; I wouldn’t be surprised if they told me neither of them had a wink of sleep last night. Both of their hair, usually pretty immaculate, was now roughly sticking out every which way as if they’d been pulling and pushing at it in frustration. 

“Has any of his family said anything?” I asked. “Perrie?”

They shook their heads in reply, looking down sorrowfully. Suddenly the door was pushed open and one of their body guards walked in. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” He started, shooting me an acknowledging nod. “There’s been some... developments.”

“What developments?” Niall asked.

“I think you should just come into Liam’s room, there’s a meeting.” He said, refusing to say anything and standing to the side of the door, watching the three of us. 

“I’ll stay here.” I offered, watching Harry and Niall get up.

“No, come.” Harry said, holding his hand out. I took it, following him as he pulled me towards him, his hand at the small of my back as we were led by Niall out of the room. Collectively we muttered a ‘thanks’ to the man holding the door open as we went to the room three doors down.

“One sec,” I said, feeling my phone vibrate in my back pocket. “I’ll meet you in there.” I slipped it out, giving them an encouraging smile and nod before answering it - not looking at who the caller was. “Hello?” I was answered by someone crying out my name. “Perrie?” Harry stopped, reaching out and grabbing Niall’s arm to stop him continuing into the room as they both spun around to watch me.

“It’s Z-Zayn.” She continued to cry.

“What’s happened? Has he made it home?” I asked, exchanging a worried look with Harry. As I spoke, Louis, Liam and their tour manager emerged from the room, all standing and watching me.

“What’s going on?” Liam whispered. Niall quickly explained.

“He just texted me. He said he’s back in London, but he said that was it. He wasn’t going back. The band is over for him. And so are we!” She hiccuped between each sentence, her explanation laced with sobs. My heart seemed to come to a juddering holt at her words.

“The band’s over? What do you mean? You’re over?”

“He’s called off the wedding!” 

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

I sat in Liam’s room next to Harry as their tour manager explained the situation. “So he’s quit?” Louis asked after what felt like an eternity of silence between the seven of us. It was evident in his ton and body language it was taking every fibre in his body not to rage.

“What the fuck?” Niall cried, face falling into his palms. His shoulders were shaking, showing us that his tears were falling. Liam moved to sit on the arm of his chair, pulling him into a hug, but it was clear he himself was fighting tears. 

“And he’s broken up with Perrie?” Liam confirmed, looking between me and their manager. We both nodded. 

I was absolutely stunned. I didn’t know what was going on. The last twenty four hours and been a rollercoaster, a whirlwind, going from one thing to the next in what felt like a flash.  

“Christ... I can’t believe this.” Louis said. It hadn’t gone unnoticed to me that Harry remained silent. I turned my head to look at him; he seemed to be in a sense of shock. I gently squeezed the hand that was in mine. 

“Haz...” I prodded quietly, my other hand rubbing up and down his thigh gently.

“Can we go?” He croaked, averting eye contact. 

“Um... I think we’ll be right back.” I spoke up, standing and waiting for Harry to follow. The other seemed to have an unspoken understanding; all feeling this sense of numbness and loss. We made our way back to Harry’s room in silence. I pushed the door shut behind us, watching cautiously as Harry went straight to the bed and almost fell onto it, his gaze staring up at the ceiling. I slowly approached him, laying beside him without a word. Both of his hands were sort of cupped around his mouth, eyes welling with tears. 

“Come here, baby.” I whispered, pulling his body into mine as he let out a choked sob. His head rested on my chest as I wrapped him in my arms. Soon more sobs escaped his mouth, morphing into an almost continuous cry as his body shook. “Shhh, my love, it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay. Just let it out.” I spoke gently into his hair as I kissed the back of his head. With each passing moment my heart was breaking more and more. Never had I seen him like this and it saddened me to no end. 

About half an hour had gone passed where he had uttered no words or sounds. “Thank you,” His voice was hoarse and muffled into my jumper.

“What for, my darling?”

“For coming, for being here. For just... being you.” He whimpered. I sniffled, a couple of my own tears falling from my eyes.

“Of course.” I replied, squeezing him gently. “Of course.” 

Neither of us knew what was going to follow this day; would the band continue? Would this be the end of the road for all of them? All I did know was that as long as Harry and I were together, we could weather any storm thrown our way, because we loved each other, supported each other, unconditionally. 

[wingsofkpop]

Hiraeth - I.IV: Danced of the Damned

pairing(s):  Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre:  Supernatual!AU, Dark Magic!AU, heavy Angst, slight Fluff, eventual Smut

warning(s): Mature language, mentions of death, hints of traumatic experiences, blood, etc. 

word count: 5k

synopsis:  How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

chapter directory

You don’t know exactly what you were expecting to find in the archives of the Town Hall. Maybe a couple old files holding the ancestral information of Moon Dye or a couple ancient photographs where the faces are too blurred and rotted to recognize. Even the finding of a mere rusted pocket watch would have crossed your mind—not a thick registry stuffed full of unthinkable truths. 

In your defense, you just happened to stumble upon the records in the dank, dusty basement where the town’s archives stay. It was hidden in a secret compartment behind chalky boxes of cold cases that were forgotten a long, long time ago—how else were you to satiate your curiosity? Inside the mess of cobwebs and dust, there sat the information that would both make and break your sanity. 

And maybe if Jaebeom hadn’t approached you in that alleyway and confirmed your suspicions… your mind would have been able to come up with some sort of rationalization. 

“Look, I wanted to tell you so many times…” You can’t bring yourself to meet Mark’s gaze, finding more interest in swirling the contents of your untouched tea. Through the corner of your eye, however, you can see your companion feverishly shaking his head, “But knowing about me would put you in danger, (Y/N)... I couldn’t do that to you.” 

“That wasn’t your choice to make, Mark.” 

“I know that, but—fucking hell.” Mark buries his face in his palms, still rocking back and forth, “It shouldn’t be like this… God, I never wanted this—” 

“And you think I did?” You hiss, uncaring about the pure venom in your tone. “How the fuck am I supposed to process all of this? That vampires and werewolves and witches and probably goddamn pixies exist? That my best friend has magical powers and talks to the dead?” 

“I don’t—” Mark timidly shrugs, “talk to the dead…” 

“Well, at least there’s that much.” A heavy sigh passes from your lips, expelling barely any tension from your aching chest. You toy with the handle of your teacup before finally gathering the willpower to meet Mark’s eyes. His irises are wild and filled with all kinds of emotion, you immediately notice. Probably a mere reflection of your own. 

As much as you want to stay angry at your best friend—you physically can’t. No matter how many times your head and your heart go back and forth. Mark lied to you. Mark has been lying to you all this time. But something inside of you won’t let your eyes see past the genuine remorse and hurt written along his face. 

He’s still your best friend. 

Mark sighs, “What do you want me to do, (Y/N)?...” 

“I want you to tell me the truth—the whole truth.”

“I can’t do that,—” 

“I at least deserve that much, don’t you think?” Mark withers beneath your murmur, dragging a hand down his face with a frustrated breath. After another moment of silence that seems to stretch on for hours, Mark grabs a nearby bottle of bourbon, pours himself a glass and finally nods. 

“If I tell you everything, there’s no going back… Are you sure you’re okay with that?” 

“Not really, but I don’t have that choice anymore.” You hum. “I need to know.” 

Mark nods again. “Where do you want me to start?” 

“At the very beginning.” 

The way Mark throws back the alcohol sparks uneasiness in your gut, but not as much as the gloomy darkness that overtakes his gruff tone. 

“The main story begins with the first ever vampires that came into existence, known as the Prime Two…” Mark moves to pour himself another drink, but changes his mind and ends up drinking straight from the bottle. You wonder whether you should ask for a sip as well. 

“But you know them already… as Im Jaebeom and Park Jinyoung.” 

  ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ 

Youngjae releases a content breath as he steps into the warmth of the bookstore, effectively escaping the post-rain chill of the outside. He shakes the remaining coolness from his hands before heading toward the front counter, where Bambam is stationed flipping through a high-end fashion magazine. Youngjae fights the urge to roll his eyes. 

“Bam?” 

Bambam looks up at Youngjae’s voice. “Hey, man. What’s going on?” 

“I need your help.” Youngjae surveys the area of the store, checking down aisles and around corners for any signs of life. The racing of his heart somewhat slows at the lack of other customers, allowing him to turn back to the cashier and continue, “The coven is in danger. Nayeon-noona is dead.” 

“I heard about that. I’m so sorry, hyung.” Bambam nods his head, “What can I do?”

“Are you able to see an account of everyone who steps foot in this town? Visitors included?” 

“Yeah, I know some guys who can get whatever information you need. You feel like taking a trip up to the police station?” 

Youngjae hums in response, waiting patiently for Bambam to lock up the register. He watches the younger throw on his coat before meeting him behind the counter. With Bambam in tow, Youngjae leaves the comfort of the shop. After Bambam locks the door, the two continue through the cold in the direction of the police station. Youngjae again checks his surroundings, feeling more than just the chill of the air. 

“Did you… find what killed her?” 

“What?” 

Bambam repeats again a little louder. “Nayeon. Do you know what killed her?” 

“A hunter and another witch.” Youngjae explains, “We have records of them murdering countless covens before coming to Moon Dye.” 

“I may not know everything about this supernatural stuff, but don’t hunters hunt vampires...?”

“We’re not sure why either of them are specifically targeting witches.” Youngjae shudders, pulling his coat tighter around his shoulders. “I just hope we can find them before…” 

“Hey.” Bambam halts Youngjae’s pace with a hand on his arm. “We’re gonna find these douchebags and make sure they don’t hurt anyone else.” 

Youngjae weakly smiles. “Thanks, Bam.” 

“C’mon. I’m freezing my ass off.” Youngjae follows Bambam’s wishes and continues down the street, feeling less and less paranoid knowing the younger is by his side. Instead, Youngjae’s mind thinks back to your sudden entrance only mere minutes ago.

Youngjae wanted to stay at the mausoleum and help Mark deescalate the situation, but the older insisted that he continue the search. He can’t help but remember the betrayal across your features—the way you looked at him and Mark as if they were aliens. 

“Why did you give (Y/N) Mayor Bhuwakul’s old diary?” The question escapes Youngjae’s lips before he can stop himself. His inquiry visibly takes Bambam off guard, manifesting in the form of confusion along his features, before shifting to realization. 

“Because she deserves to know.” 

“But what about Mark-hyung? You know what this will do to him, right? To him and (Y/N)?” 

Bambam shakes his head. “I know Mark cares about (Y/N), and (Y/N) cares about Mark.” He peers at Youngjae through the corner of his eye and shrugs, “That’s not gonna change just because she knows the truth, hyung. I doubt that will ever change.” 

Youngjae doesn’t respond, keeping his eyes trained on the moving pavements at his feet. He knows Bambam is right, and knows both Mark and (Y/N), but something in his gut doesn’t feel right—like a sense that something is coming. 

Something bad… Something really, really bad. 

  ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ 

“So you’re telling me that not only are there vampires almost a thousand years old running around without a care in the world, but you’re also the leader of the town witch coven who protects Moon Dye from supernatural threats?” Mark nods at your recount, holding back a smile at the cute furrow in your eyebrows. “You realize how absolutely unreal that sounds? Right?” 

“You said you wanted the truth.” 

“I’m only slightly regretting that decision now.” You sigh, smoothing a hand over your scalp. Mark notices a stray hair fall across your forehead at your movement. He’s not sure whether it’s the light buzz radiating throughout his veins or the way your eyes seem to glitter in the sunlight, but his mind has to warn his hands to remain glued to the table. Still, Mark can’t help but feel disappointed as you brush the strand away. 

You shrug your shoulders, “How… How do you do it?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Like…” Mark carefully watches your expression, noticing the slight tremor in your tone as you trail on. “How do you… do magic…?” 

“Well, there’s a bunch of ways.” He explains, “Spells. Potions. Channeling objects. Control of the elements. Some witches can even see events from the past, present or future.” 

“So you don’t wave around wands and ride on broomsticks?” 

The first genuine laugh leaves Mark’s lips for the first time tonight. “No. Though Youngjae did try to enchant his car to fly one time.” 

“Where does it come from? The magic?” 

“It’s dependent on the witch, and the type of craft they practice.” 

Not desiring to scare you off, Mark chooses to show a more modest example. He focuses his attention onto your cup, still full of now cold tea, and murmurs a quick incantation beneath his breath. Your entire body flinches as the glass lifts at least six inches off the table, enough to hover at the level of your eyes. After a couple seconds, Mark lowers the cup back into its original place. When he meets your gaze, he expects to see fear embedded beneath your irises, but it’s the opposite: 

You seem fascinated. 

“I usually practice Traditional Magic, so I use the Earth and other natural elements to amplify my magic.” Mark says, “Most witches are born with their own powers, but that’s not always the case. 

“Youngjae—take him as an example—is a Siphoner. In order to generate magic, he has to absorb it from other things, be it objects or people.” 

“So he… siphons magic?” 

Mark smiles. “Exactly. You’re catching on pretty quick.” 

“I wouldn’t go that far.” You shake your head, curiously peering down at the stationary teacup before returning your attention back to Mark. “When I read through that book in the archives, I saw something about Lycanthropes… Does that mean what I think it means?” 

“Werewolves.” He states matter of factly.

“They exist too then?” 

“You remember Kim Yugyeom? Bambam’s best friend?” 

You nod. 

Mark nods too. “He’s the second in command of Moon Dye’s pack. I don’t think you’ve met the new Alpha, Bang Chan.” 

“I’ve heard the name from some of my kids.” Mark can practically feel the exhaustion from your sigh. He debates the idea of reaching across the table to take your hand in his—the loneliness of your fingers spurring him on even more. Before Mark can make up his mind, you’re already withdrawing your limbs and hiding them in the comforts of your lap. 

“I just—I’m just having a hard time processing all of this.” 

Mark shakes his head, “It’s a lot to take in, (Y/N).”

“I know, but—” You pause to lift your head, furrowing your eyebrows in his direction with the beginnings of a scowl overtaking your lips. “I’m still pissed that you kept this whole other world a secret from me. I mean, for fucksakes, Mark, you’re my best friend.” 

“I’m—I was protecting you. Knowing this stuff exists doesn’t come without consequence, (Y/N).” 

“Stop saying that, oh my god—” Mark waits as you bury your face in your palms, deeply breathing through the divots of your laced fingers. After maybe a minute of silence, you raise your head and murmur, “What is it about me knowing that puts me in danger? I was nearly killed by that vampire without knowing shit.” 

A wince overtakes Mark’s features. “It’s complicated…” 

“I’m so sick of everyone using that excuse.” You hiss, “You don’t keep something like this from me, especially the fact that you’re—” 

“Do you know how Nayeon died?” Mark can see how his sudden question takes you off guard by the widening of your eyes and pursing of your lips. You take a few moments to collect yourself, right your expression, before answering: 

“She was… killed by an animal.” 

Mark shakes his head again. “No. Nayeon was murdered by a supernatural vampire hunter and another witch.” 

You blink. “B-But… was she a—?” 

“She was a witch—an innocent witch that never provoked, nor hurt anyone.” Mark leans forward until the edge of the table presses harshly against his ribs. The uncomfort does little to garner his attention—too focused on speaking to you with his desperate eyes. “This world—my world is dark, (Y/N). The creatures in my world are even darker, including me.” 

He pretends not to catch the brief wave of unease that washes over your face. 

“Right now, there are two fucking crazies in town out to kill me and my people.” Mark gulps at the stone long formed at the back of his throat. “If I lose anyone else, I—” Unable to finish his sentence, Mark shifts his focus. “I just need you to understand, (Y/N). Please.” 

“Mark—” Tremors shoot through his veins as your fingers latch around his wrist—the warmth of your touch sobering the last remnants of his mind. He has to hold back tears at the pure sympathy that resonates from your bright irises. “I understand, okay?” 

He nods, not trusting the quality of his voice. 

You softly squeeze his arm. “No more secrets though… Promise me.” 

“(Y/N)—” 

“Promise me.”   

Mark knows he shouldn’t, but the way you’re looking at him—so calm, yet so determined—the way you always look at him… He can’t do anything but give in. 

“I promise.” He murmurs, placing a hand over your own with a weak smile. “No more secrets.” 

You nod approvingly, offering up a smile of your own. Your lips part again, as if to ask another question, when a knock sounds from the door. Mark almost verbally protests when you pull away, but holds back his annoyance to answer the unexpected visitor with a silent sigh. However, he can’t hold back his scowl at the sight of Jinyoung on his doorstep. 

“Mark. It’s good to see you.” 

“What the hell are you doing here?” 

“I apologize for my sudden visit, but I needed to talk to you about—” Jinyoung’s voice trails off, which Mark quickly realizes is because of your known presence. He watches, with narrowed eyes, as you and Jinyoung exchange an array of glances before he turns back to Mark. 

He shakes his head. “I didn’t realize you had company. I’ll come back—” 

“She knows.” An uneasy feeling erupts in Mark’s gut at the weak expression that crosses over Jinyoung’s face. He doesn’t like how Jinyoung looks at you again, nor the blank stare you offer the vampire in response. 

Jinyoung nods. “I see…” 

“What did you—?” Mark’s phone rings before he can finish his question, temporarily relieving him from the atmosphere of awkwardness and irritation. He steps aside to allow Jinyoung the space to enter while pulling his phone from his pocket. His eyes remain fixated on the interaction between both you and Jinyoung as he answers the call, lifting the device up to his ear. 

“Please tell me you and Bam found something.” 

“It’s not much, but we at least found a lead.” Mark breathes a sigh of relief at Youngjae’s answer. As to include both you and Jinyoung into the conversation, he turns Youngjae on speaker phone, avoiding the curious glint in your gaze.  

“There’s no record in the police database of any suspicious visitors entering town within the last few months, so we’re sure they probably got into Moon Dye undetected, or at least not on city file.” 

“How does that help us?” 

“You need to let me finish, hyung.” Mark can practically hear Youngjae roll his eyes over the line. “We may not have records, but some of Bam’s friends were able to look into the cameras stationed around the border of the road that leads into town. They caught footage of a bus dropping off two young women, who were then picked up by a 2018 BMW M6. We tried to track the license plate number, but the registration is private.” 

Jinyoung murmurs with a nod, “So someone who lives here in town brought them in. It’s possible we may be dealing with more than just a hunter and a witch.” 

“I don’t think so.” Youngjae disagrees, “The tracking spell would have picked up on every accomplice involved in Nayeon-noona’s murder.” 

Mark feels sick at the slight grimace that pulls across your features. He knows you're playing strong by the way you quickly mask your discomfort. 

“Anyway, we were only able to track the vehicle as far as Poison Square. But we do have the faces of the two young women that got off of the bus.” 

“That’s something then.” Mark sighs, sharing a wary glance with Jinyoung. “What do they look like?” 

“Both are probably somewhere in their early- to mid-twenties, have dyed blonde hair and are relatively around the same height.” 

Jinyoung shakes his head. “That could be anyone. Can you be more specific?” 

“The one woman has three distinguishing beauty marks: One on the bridge of her nose, another above her upper lips, and a third near the corner of her mouth.” 

“Shouldn’t the hunter have something on them? Like a mark?” 

“We wouldn’t be able to see the hunter’s mark.” Jinyoung shuts down Mark’s inquiry with a frown, “It’s only visible to other hun—” 

“This mark… Is it a tattoo, by any chance?...” Mark nearly flinches at your sudden question—Jinyoung almost doing the same. The latter resurrects from the surprise before releasing a hesitant answer: 

“Well, I’ve never seen it myself, but… yes.” 

“Oh my fucking god…” The pure shock that overtakes your face sends warning bells chiming through Mark’s mind. He sets the phone on the table before dropping to his knees in front of your sitting form, immediately noticing the trembling of your hands. Worst case scenarios play through his thoughts like creepy puppet shows, but he pushes them away to focus on you. 

“What is it?” 

When you meet his gaze, your eyes are wild with a blend of shock  and fright. Mark feels even sicker than before, and not because of the alcohol. 

You gulp. Not once. But twice. 

“I… I know who Nayeon’s killers are.” 

  ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“Please, just let me go…” Jihyo sobs, hot tears beginning to spill down her burning cheeks. The rope around her wrists chafes uncomfortably at her skin, eating away at what little dignity remains in her heart. “I really don’t understand what you want from me…” 

Momo releases a huff—the sight and sound mirroring a dragon blowing smoke through his nostrils. Jihyo watches through terrified eyes as Momo paces across the living room floor, feverishly shaking her head and mumbling incoherencies underneath her breath. The fear continues to grow when Momo stomps to where Jihyo is frozen stiff on the sofa. 

“How many fucking times do I have to repeat myself?” Momo growls, shoving her tattooed arm in Jihyo’s face. “You see this mark, then you’re a hunter. It’s not rocket science.” 

Jihyo weakly shakes her head. “You’re sick, Momo… Th-This whole thing about vampires and witches and hunters doesn’t exist…” 

It’s a lie—Jihyo knows in her heart that a part of her, a very stupid part of her, believes every little detail that has left Momo’s lips. Some of it makes too much sense not to be true: The sudden animal attacks. The mysterious disappearances. The unexplained instances she’s had ever since she moved to Moon Dye Bay. 

“I told you that—”�� 

Momo’s voice cuts out at the sound of a slamming door. For a moment, hope swirls through Jihyo’s gut, thinking that either Sana or (Y/N) must have come to her rescue, but the burst vanishes at the sight of Mina stepping into view—Jihyo’s fear instead skyrockets. 

Momo said she’s a witch. 

“What is going on here?” Mina demands, her tone stern and expression cold. Momo only smiles in response. 

“Sister!” She skips over to the newcomer, delicately taking Mina’s hands into her own. The act actually surprises Jihyo, not expecting the supposed, rather sadistic hunter to be capable of such affection. “Jihyo can see my mark! She’s a hunter just like me, sister!” 

Mina immediately tears her hands away, glaring at her sister with such bewilderment and venom. “Are you out of your damn mind!?” 

“Wh-What do you mean?” 

“Jihyo cannot be involved in any of this!” Goosebumps rise over Jihyo’s skin at the hidden darkness beneath Mina’s words. Her eyes glance toward the hallway, wondering the success rate of being able to reach the front door without alerting either sister. “Do you not remember what happened last time you tried to train another hunter?” 

“Things will be different this time. I am stronger now—we are stronger.” “You don’t know that for sure.” 

“Think of how easy it will be to take out the rest of Tuan’s coven with another hunter on our side, sister.” Momo persists, striking more panic through Jihyo’s already stocked body. Against her better judgement, Jihyo tries to escape her rope bindings… and unsurprisingly, fails. 

Mina shakes her head furiously. “Tuan and his witches have sided with one of The Prime brothers. We can’t risk killing another member without putting our own lives in danger—”

“All the more reason to take on another hunter.” Jihyo shrinks in on herself as Momo grabs Mina’s hand and leads her to her prisoner on the couch. “Please, sister. Think about what those witches did to us—about mother and father.” 

Silence, save for the hum of rushing blood in Jihyo’s ears, hangs in the air, thick like a pool of humid fog. Like Momo, Jihyo carefully watches Mina’s expression, searching for any features that may determine the underlyings of her fate. 

“So many lives we’ve already taken for mother and father.” Mina pulls her hand free from Momo’s and shakes her head. The rope seems to dig harder into her wrists—as does the terror in her chest when Mina murmurs her next words: 

“When will it ever be enough for you, sister?…” Jihyo’s gaze remains transfixed on Mina as she makes her way back through the kitchen, pausing to offer the bound woman an apologetic glance. “I’m so sorry you were brought into this… but I’m even more sorry that you’ll have to die because of it…” 

Whatever remaining hope inside Jihyo snaps as Mina throws her one last pitiful smile before rushing out the apartment—leaving Jihyo to the mercy of her deranged sister. 

  ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Jinyoung closely watches how your fingers seem to cling to Mark’s hands as you think over your words, almost as if his mere touch is enough to keep your mind grounded. And though he’d never admit it aloud… Jinyoung feels envy that Mark is the one who’s comforting you. 

“Mina and Momo are friends of Sana from when they were in high school.” You explain, peering between both Mark and Jinyoung’s curious expressions. Though Jinyoung notices how your gaze seems to avoid his seeking eyes. “I don’t know anything about them beside the fact they’re foster sisters, and they had a pretty shitty time in the system.” 

“Then how are you so sure it’s them?” Youngjae inquires, still over the phone. “And how did you know about the hunter’s mark?” 

You pause, and based on your expression, Jinyoung would guess you’re almost reluctant to answer his questions. He moves to soothe your uneasiness, but Mark beats him to it: 

“We have to know, (Y/N)... It’s important.” 

Jinyoung’s jealousy expands at the intimate glance you and Mark share. 

After another moment of quiet and a heavy sigh, you finally speak, “The other day, I heard Jihyo comment on a tattoo that Momo had—but there was no tattoo. Neither Sana nor I saw one, so I just thought Jihyo was imagining things until…” 

“Until now.” Jinyoung finishes. He inhales an unsteady gust of air, carding his fingers through his styled hair, and shakes his head with a solemn expression, “(Y/N)... For Jihyo to be able to see Momo’s hunter mark would mean she’s a—”

“We have to warn the others.” Mark interrupts Jinyoung, suddenly rising to his feet. “Youngjae, give a call to Lia, Jisung and Minho and tell them to get their asses over here as soon as possible.” 

“Already done, hyung. I couldn’t reach Minho, but I left several voicemails and dozens of texts.” 

“I’ll start on that linking spell we talked about. This ends tonight.” Mark lifts his phone from the tabletop, readying his thumb to tap the end call button. “Get here safe, okay?” 

Youngjae hums. “Fifteen minutes. Maybe ten.” 

“See you soon, Youngjae.” No sooner had Mark ended the call does your voice sound: 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? ‘This ends tonight’?” 

Mark shakes his head. “(Y/N)—” 

“No. I want to know what that means.” You abruptly rise, sending your chair sliding across the wood floor with a shriek. Jinyoung waits for Mark to come up with an answer, secretly enjoying the obvious discomfort amongst his features, before answering himself after maybe a minute of radio silence: 

Jinyoung places a hand on your shoulder. “It means we do what we have to do to keep everyone safe. Including you and the town.” 

“But you won’t… kill them? Right? I mean, there’s-there’s other ways that don’t have to end with anyone dead, right…?”

“I don’t know.” Jinyoung murmurs honestly, “If they’re willing to talk, then maybe. But if it comes down to it—” 

“Please, don’t…” His heart practically breaks at the shakiness of your tone. “Just—do anything you have to, but don’t kill them…” 

Mark raises an eyebrow with a scowl, “They’ve killed dozens of innocent people, (Y/N). If anything, they deserve to die.” 

“Maybe…” You shake your head. “But killing them would make you no better than them.” 

Jinyoung feels as if you just punched him in the gut with your words. He has to let go of your shoulder to reach back and support his weight against the table, suddenly dizzy and light-headed.

“We’ll…” Mark sighs, “We’ll try our best, okay?” 

You nod before wiping your palms against the side of your jeans. 

As you and Mark engage in another round of small talk, Jinyoung tries to settle the nauseous feeling in his gut and focus on anything other than the fragrant waft of your scent. He knows he would never hurt you—his self control is too grand to allow anything like that—but the lack of human blood is beginning to affect him again. For the worse. 

Usually Jinyoung is able to hold his own with only a couple droplets of animal blood every few days or so. However, his strength and other abilities have long depleted since he began this strict diet, and while he may not be anywhere near desiccation—Jinyoung is certainly hungry. And weak. Very, very weak. 

He just hopes he will be able to withstand the upcoming battle. 

“But I want to help!” 

“And the answer is no fucking way. Absolutely not.” Jinyoung returns to reality just in time to see Mark shake his head indignantly toward your seething figure. Since then, he notices the two of you have moved to a nearby lectern, where Mark is currently flipping through a large grimoire.

“I can help, I mean—Mina and Momo know me and I swear I can—” 

“It’s not fucking happening.” Mark growls, slamming the book shut and leering down at you with a sneer. Jinyoung catches how your face doesn’t falter in the slightest at his angered expression. 

With a single finger, you poke Mark’s chest. “I’m not just going to sit back and watch while you and your damn wizard gang go and play hocus pocus with a pair of killers.” 

“It’s too dangerous—!” 

“Do I look like I fucking care!? Didn’t think so!” 

Jinyoung steps in, making sure to keep his tone calm so as to not infuriate you anymore. “Mark is right, (Y/N). I’m sorry—but you’d only be a liability for us to keep track of.” 

Your expression hardens. “A liability—? Are you serious?” 

Mark doesn’t spare a second glance in your direction and instead turns to Jinyoung. He points toward the countertop behind the vampire, “Can you grab the bowl that’s there? The one from yesterday’s ritual?” 

“So that’s it then?” Jinyoung  grabs the silver bowl filled with dried blood and the charm bracelet as you continue to rant, and hands it to Mark. The witch immediately dips two fingers into the crimson liquid, closes his eyes and begins to murmur a hushed incantation. 

You shove at his shoulder. “Mark? Are you kidding me?” 

“(Y/N), please—” Jinyoung steers you away from the witch, forcing himself to keep strong underneath your icy stare. “It’s for your own good…” 

With a clenched jaw and sparkling eyes, you shake your head. For a moment, Jinyoung hopes you’ll simply turn on your heel and leave the tense atmosphere of the mausoleum, but as always—you surprise him. 

“You know, I let your and Mark’s lying about everything slide because I wanted to move past it—for a fresh start.” You lean closer until Jinyoung can practically taste your minty breath on the tip of his tongue. “But you two are still treating me like some sort of princess that needs to be protected.

“And you know what, Jinyoung?” Your hiss strikes something deep inside Jinyoung’s soul—something even he can’t place. “I’m no princess. And I don’t need to be protected. You’ll do best to get that shit through your head.” 

Neither Jinyoung nor Mark try to stop you as you stomp out the door. 

Jinyoung bites his lip before turning to Mark. “Are we… doing the right thing?” 

“I don’t know.” Mark replies, and for once, Jinyoung can relate to the lost tinge in his tone. 

“I really don’t fucking know.” 

[buckthegrump]

Charcoal Drawings - 23

Summary: You are an art student and are forced to take a life drawing class which will include nude modeling. One little problem, the model is super fucking hot.

Word Count: 1587

Warnings: Fluff, minor angst, smutty smut smut lol, unprotected sex wrap it before you tap it, oral m!receiving 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F! Reader

A/n: still not great at writing smut but once again, that didn’t stop me

Y/n bounced her leg unable to control herself. Why was she so nervous it’s not like there was any doubt that he liked her. He’d told her as much many times. And she knew they got along, hell, he agreed to watch Twilight and High School Musical in the same night then pretended to enjoy both movies.

It had taken some careful planning on her part to get away from her friends without raising suspicion. Although she was really glad that they were only going on one date in secret, any more and her heart might have exploded from sheer terror (mostly of what Carol and Natasha would do to her once they found out she lied to them).

Y/n watched as Bucky’s car pulled up to the side of the road where the bus bench was where she was sitting. He stopped the car and she got in.

“You ready for our second date?” Bucky asked.

“Second?” She smirked at him. “What are you counting as our first?”

“When we went to lunch?” He asked she shook her head no. “How about -”

“If you’re about to say the night we had sex that it also a no. The first one the word friend was said too much in reference to us, the second, was not a date. And you didn’t kiss me goodbye either time so.”

“I seem to remember kissing you quite a bit that night,” he teased.

“Doesn’t count,” Y/n turned to look out the windshield.

“Oh, it doesn’t?”

“Nope,” she said popping the p.

“Interesting,” he muttered. “Just so you know,” he said a bit louder, “I’m really excited for tonight.”

“Me too.”

He continued to drive until they were in front of a roller skating rink. Y/n looked at him and raised an eyebrow. Bucky winked at her and got out of the car, she followed suit not long after.

After getting their skates and putting them on, they made their way to the rink. Y/n was more graceful than Bucky, who had fallen about seven times in the span of five feet. Y/n laughed at him every time and Bucky jokingly glared at her every time, sending her back into a fit of giggles.

They skated around, well Y/n skated Bucky hung onto the wall as he shuffled his way around the rink. They kept at it for about a few songs before Y/n dragged Bucky to a table.

“I can keep going!” He insisted.

“Bucky,” Y/n chuckled, “You fell while you were still holding on to the wall, which is a very impressive talent. I didn’t know you had that much talent.”

Bucky frowned. “You sound like Sam.”

“But you like me more than you like Sam right?” Y/n gave him her best puppy eyes.

Bucky looked at her across the table and then smiled at her. “Absolutely.”

“Good, because that would’ve been so awkward if you hadn’t.”

“I’m gonna go get some food, what do you want?”

“Ooo, one of those soft pretzels.” She propped her chin up on her hand and watched him slide out of the booth. “Maybe take off your skates before you die trying to get to the concession stand.”

Bucky shot a sideways glance at her but bent over to take off his skates. It wasn’t long before he came back with the food and drinks. They sat and talked as they ate. Mostly about things that they didn’t know about each other, but the subject of their friends came up a few times and they complained to each other about the roasting they continuously got.

After they finished eating Y/n convinced Bucky to go back out into the rink. He was glued to the wall again as Y/n lapped him a few times before slowing down next to him to help him. He even let go fo the wall for almost an entire lap, still needing to use the wall as a way to turn.

Y/n could tell that Bucky was getting tired so she suggested that they head out much to Bucky’s disappointment, that is until she pointed out that she didn’t mention anything about going their separate ways.

Which is how they ended up at Bucky’s place. They were talking, again. They were in Bucky’s room because Y/n demanded to see it so she could snoop around. His bed was pressed up against a corner of the room and there was a desk and chair on the other side. Bucky was lying on his bed looking up at the ceiling while Y/n was sitting at his desk not so subtlely looking through his stuff.

She came across a sketch pad.

“What’s this?” She asked and he turned to look at what she was talking about.

He shrugged. “I bought it on a whim, I don’t really know what the plan was or what I’m going to do with it.”

Y/n looked at his current position with a sparkle in her eye that Bucky clearly saw.

“What?” He asked.

“I mean,” she shrugged, the mischievous gleam still about her, “I kind of wanna draw you.”

“So draw me,” he challenged.

“You’re wearing too many clothes.” He quickly stripped and laid back down on the bed. “I’m a little sad that I didn’t get to draw you in the state that you were in during class.”

“Are you trying to kill me?” He asked with a crooked smile.

Y/n winked at him and watched as his hand slowly traveled down to his cock, eyes never leaving hers. He stroked it a few times until he was fully erect.

Hand still wrapped around himself he raised an eyebrow. “Should I keep going?”

“No,” she answered simply. “But don’t lose it.”

“Jesus,” he groaned.

Y/n began to draw him, while he lay there. Every once in a while he would reach back down to keep himself hard.

“You’ve ruined modeling for me,” he muttered at one point.

“Are you saying you’ll never model again?” She pouted.

“I’ll model for you,” he answered earning a grin from her. 

She was only a quarter way finished when Bucky started moaning uncontrollably slowly chipping away at her resolve. She set down the sketch pad and pencil she was using and walked over to him.

His eyes were closed until she settled on the bed in between his legs, then his eyes flew open.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Do you want me to stop?” Y/n asked her mouth dangerously close to his tip.

He barely took a moment to think about it. “No.”

She smiled before placing a kiss on the head of his dick. She wrapped her lips around him and he let out a staggered breath. She swirled her tongue around him a few times before taking him deeper in her mouth.

“Fuck,” he whimpered, she moaned at the sound. One of his hands found her hair. “Y/n, please.”

Y/n took the rest of him continuing to bob her head up and down. Now both of his hands were in her hair and he was repeating her name like it was a prayer. He muttered something about being close and she was about to double down on her efforts when he pulled her off him.

She looked at him confused and he pulled her up to kiss her.

“You don’t wanna finish?” She asked as they kissed.

“Oh, I plan to,” he said smugly. 

“You do?” She pulled away. Y/n lined his cock up with her entrance and slid on to him. She rolled her hips slowly teasing the man below her.

“Ok, now I know you're trying to kill me,” he said.  Y/n chuckled and picked up her pace, Bucky gripped her hips and dug his fingers into her.

Y/n leaned over and started trailing kissed from his collar bone up his neck before finding his lips again. Using her fingers she rubbed circles into her clit nearing her orgasm. Bucky started matching her bounces with thrusts of his own at an unrelenting pace until they were both coming.

Once they’d ridden out their highs she collapsed on the bed next to him.

Bucky was panting when he asked, “Does this count as a date?”

Y/n giggled into the pillow. “There’s been no goodnight kiss.”

“Do you want to leave?” He asked wide-eyed.

“No,” she whispered, “do you want me to leave?”

He rolled over to face her. “No, I want you to stay.”

“Ok,” she grinned and snuggled into the bed. “Goodnight then.”

Bucky placed a kick kiss to her lips. “Goodnight.”

~

“Hey, Bucky!” Sam called bursting into Bucky’s room the next morning before either Bucky or Y/n had a chance to react. They jolted awake not quite sure what was happening until the door opened. They were still naked in bed, no longer covered by the sheets because someone threw them off in the middle of the night. “Oh my god!”

Sam covered his eyes with his hands. 

“Get out of here!” Bucky bellowed grabbing something from his nightstand to throw at Sam.

“My eyes!!!” Sam complained as he walked out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

Bucky dropped his head back onto the pillow, Y/n still snuggled into his side was giggling.

“Guess we don’t need to worry about telling our friends,” she said and Bucky joined her in her laughter.

[doctor243]

The End of the World

So this is an new IronWidow story that I am still putting together. I was just gonna do it as a one-shot but BOOM suddenly I had 5000+ words so why stop now, I thought lol. Let me know what you think^^

Summary: “This is how the world ends. Not with a bang, but with a......” or How I feel Endgame should have been written.

Pairing: Tony Stark x Natasha Romanoff

Chapter 1: Irony

Irony was a terrible thing.

The world was in a terrible state. Everyone had lost somebody, the economy had tanked, and the world was basically in a state of confusion and disarray. Questions that no one could answer were flooding the world, like “Why is there no more electricity in my city?”

Because the people needed to maintain the power plants were snapped away.

“Why is the highway jammed with cars?”

Because the drivers got snapped away.

“Why are half the buildings in New York razed to the ground?”

Because there are three airports in the vicinity of Manhattan and half of the pilots flying planes in the air space got snapped away.

“Why is my mother gone?”

Because…

Tony looked out the window of the common area, eyes soaking in the dishevelled state of the city. He nursed his glass of whiskey as he watched the dark clouds roll their way into his line of sight.

Because we failed.

He closed his eyes tightly with a sigh and a lone tear slid down his cheek. A stabbing pain shot through his heart as he remembered Pepper’s smile – tender, teasing and truthful. Then he nearly collapsed when he remembered being told how she had died when a car had smashed into her when the driver had been snapped away. She left only their two year-old Morgan as her legacy, who was now sleeping soundly in bed.

Because I failed.

“Why is the whiskey gone?”

Tony turned around, hastily wiping the tear from his cheek, finding Natasha glaring at the empty bottles by the liquor cabinet as if they had committed a personal offense against her. He smiled tiredly.

“It was gone before I got here,” he replied, deliberately taking a sip from his glass.

She cocked an eyebrow at him in amusement, smirking as though she was about to come back with a witty comment. But she didn’t. She just looked at him and he could see that underneath her casualness and humour, the same pain and exhaustion that haunted him haunted her too. She felt the same disappointment and resignation that he did, and she had come to the living room for the same reason as him. He stepped towards the liquor cabinet, placing his glass down on a table.

“You know what?” He asked, suddenly. “It’s not even a good time for whiskey. It’s raining – it’s perfect for hot chocolate.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow at him questioningly. He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed that fiery look. Her willingness to challenge anyone and anything they said; her refusal to be intimidated by super-intellect and super-strength. In the two years that Cap had whisked away the Rogues and been on the run, Tony had been angry. He had been absolutely livid. But he still knew that their absence left a hole in the fabric of the Avengers, a missing part of its soul.  

“Hot chocolate?” Natasha repeated.

“Yes,” he answered decidedly. “Hot chocolate,” he pulled out a bottle of Irish Cream, “and a pot of gold.”

Natasha smiled in agreement. “I’ll start on the hot chocolate,” she turned to the kitchen.

“No,” Tony said, looking out of the window, where the rain pelted down like bullets from Thanos’ ships and the thunder shouted angrily after the flashes of lightning. “I’ll get the hot chocolate. You build the blanket fort.”

This time both eyebrows were raised at him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was rather proud of himself, and he made a mental note to elicit that response from her as often as possible. “A blanket fort?” She asked incredulously. “Tony how many drinks did you have before I got here?”

“I’ve never built a blanket fort before,” he pointedly ignored her, pushing her in the direction of the couches. “Then again, I never did have a childhood or friends growing up.” It wasn’t a statement aimed at garnering sympathy, just a fact.

“And you think I did?” She asked again, almost offended.

“You’ve definitely built more makeshift covers in the wild than I have,” he replied methodically, putting the kettle on and pulling out the cocoa. “Spare blankets in the drawers.”

Nat sighed in resignation as she pulled out the twenty blankets that Tony referred to and got to work. She didn’t think it’d take this much effort just to get a fucking drink.

In the end, she was definitely very proud of herself. She’d utilised the couch cushions and the chairs to produce what seemed more like a blanket tent.

“Now that is a masterpiece,” Tony approached with two mugs of steaming Irish Hot Chocolate, clearly impressed. “Let’s do this.”

Once they were inside and comfortably situated, Natasha took a sip and groaned in pleasure. “Holy shit, Stark,” she hastily took another mouthful. “This has got to be the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“Well, there’s more where that came from,” Tony sipped with a smile. “I’m just impressed you found a lantern to bring in here.”

“You were taking so long I had the time to go to Cap’s storeroom,” she rolled her eyes.

Tony snorted. “Remember when he would go down there and do weekly checks on his field pack? As if we were going to send him into the woods at any moment?”

Natasha laughed fondly. “The stuff in there was from World War II!” She took another sip. “Still acting like he was in boot camp.”

They sat there in their fortress of blankets and memories, taking turns to refill their drinks of comfort, and reminiscing about days gone by. At one point they added vodka-laced whipped cream which, surprisingly, Tony made from scratch.

Time was an obscure construct for them, and at a certain point, when all the bottles (how many were there again?) of Bailey’s and all the cocoa had been expanded, Tony closed his eyes and sighed. They were both past the point of inebriation, but hadn’t that been the point?

“Irony is a bitch,” he whispered.

“What’d you mean?” Nat asked. They were both on their backs, staring at the ceiling of sheets and the lantern turned off.

“How long has it been?” he asked quietly.

“Since what?” Natasha mumbled.

“Since you guys killed Thanos?” he answered.

Natasha was silent for a little bit, sobering slightly. “6 months,” she replied finally.

Tony wished to God that he had been there, but he had just returned from Titan with Nebula. He had been too dehydrated, malnourished, and emotionally incapacitated from hearing the news about Pepper’s premature departure.

“Everybody lost somebody,” he finally explained. “It wasn’t just 50 percent of the world. Other people died too in the aftermath.”

“I know,” Natasha turned to look at him.

“Everything’s gone to shit,” he gritted out. “And yet…” he reached to his Arc Reactor and squeezed it, as though it were some kind of comfort. “And yet the irony is, he was right,” he wheezed out.

Natasha sat up. Even in her state, she knew she had to hear this, whether to agree or disagree.

“I lost Peter, Pepper and Happy,” he choked out. “But the world is slowly healing, world governments are putting selfish agendas aside and actually working together, and pollution has gone down exponentially. World peace and world hunger pretty much solved.” His body shook at every word he forced out.

“Tony…” Natasha placed a hand on his shoulder, and as she stared into his tear-filled eyes, she knew he didn’t believe himself.  

“Was the price worth it?” Tony was sobbing at this point. “Was he actually right?”

Natasha sighed and slipped her arms around his head and pulled him into an embrace, which he immediately returned, crying unabashedly. She knew that he knew the answer; he just needed to hear it from someone else.

“Of course not,” she whispered soothingly. “Nothing is worth losing lives for.” Tony sobbed even harder at this. “Not one,” she continued. “And certainly not half of all lives.” He never loosened his grip, and eventually Natasha started humming a song he’d never heard before. “We don’t trade lives, Tony,” she said at one point. They stayed that way for a while, him breathing in her scent while she played with his hair and hummed. He always knew that she’d been the heart of the team, helping to centre the strongest heads and to be the voice of unity. She’d turned the team into a family, and he lost that when she left with Steve.

“Let’s leave New York,” he said suddenly.

Natasha pulled away to look at him in the eyes. “What?” There was that eyebrow of question again.

“Let’s leave this building and go somewhere else,” he looked at her with determination from his red, wet eyes. “I have some property in Georgia, by the lake. And we can build a cabin. You can have your own room, and Morgan can be away from all the carnage in this city.”

“Tony, we have responsibilities to carry out,” she argued.

“Which we will be able to carry out with a change of environment,” he replied. This seemed like a better and better idea with each passing minute. “Cap will stay in New York and we’ll be able to contact our foreign friends when I build the hologram communicators into the cabin. C’mon Nat, I need to take Morgan to a place she doesn’t have to witness pain and suffering on a daily basis, and I can’t watch her alone. I can barely take care of myself.”

She thought about it silently, but the breaking in his voice took the strength out of her denial. The truth was that she needed a change as well, and the constant reminders of failures in her everyday life did not help. She needed time to heal. They needed to heal.

“Okay,” she whispered, returning to hugging him. He pulled her closer in response, clearly satisfied with her answer. Where do you turn when there’s nowhere left to go? What do you do when you’ve lost everything? “Okay,” she repeated.

Let me know what you think guys^^

Next Chapter: Here

Masterlist: Here

Tags: @littlemsstark3000​ @katebishopofearth​ @black-ironwidow​ @ironwidow​ @ironwidoww​ @natashastarkotp​ @ironwidow10​ @natashastark3000​ @latinatasharomanoff​ @616tonesnat​ @natashastarkov​ @generationmemes​ @queeenpersephone​

[lookatallthosefreckles]

Where’s The Romantic Music?

When you were born, you had a 'tattoo' (technically it's a birthmark, but tattoo sounds cooler) with your soulmate's last name on it. Cas had always liked tracing the loopy lines of the 'W' in 'Winchester' as a kid, loving the ups and downs of the cursive that was imprinted on his lower back.

Sam had loved the straight, sharp lines of 'Novak', the word written on the back of his neck.

Neither of them really liked the word all that much when they got introduced to their college room mate.

"Hey," Sam said with a smile, holding out his hand to the blue-eyed man he was to be rooming with. "I'm Sam Winchester."

Cas almost dropped his bag.

"Is everything alright?" Sam asked, his eyebrows scrunching together in concern.

"Casti.... Castiel Novak," Cas choked out.

The two men looked at each other in alarm.

According to literally anything that has romance, when you met your soulmate, you were supposed to feel  something. There were supposed to be fireworks, sparks of some kind, possibly red hearts floating in the air. You were supposed to fall in love with every little thing.

But all Cas felt was surprise.

And maybe a little bit of disappointment. How on earth was he supposed to fall in love with this giant? Cas was 6"1 (A/N: im going off a Pinterest thing thing thing I saw a looong time ago for his height so possibly  not the best source), and he had to crane his neck  to be able to see Sam's eyes.

"Oh," Sam said, feeling incredibly awkward. According to his brother's chick-flick movies (that he swore  he did not own), there was supposed to be romantic music playing in the background. Sam was supposed to just have rushed here from the air port, or maybe the hospital, thinking that he'd never love someone again- and then he meets his soulmate.

In reality, Sam had just spilled his coffee on his top layer of flannels, took the shirt off, and (much to the surprise of the rest of the people at Starbucks) walked away with the other 4+ layers still on his body. He'd bumped into a door (maybe he was the clumsy side of the pairing?), gotten his car pooped on by a bird, and run here to meet his room mate.

Not exactly the starting of an incredible love story.

"Uh," Cas repiled.

"I guess, we should, uh..." Sam gestured to the door of the dorm room, his keys jingling.

"Yeah. Yup."

Sam swallowed, and tried to fit his key into the lock.

It was, evidently, the wrong key.

He tried a few more, swearing each time another one didn't work, while Cas stood behind him awkwardly.

"Uh," Cas started, stepping forward when the fifth key didn't work. "Maybe I should try?"

"Oh, yeah." Sam backed away from the door, feeling stupid.

Cas unlocked the dorm easily and stepped inside, tossing his bags on one of the beds.

Sam sat down on the second bed, and they stayed like that. About six feet apart (A/N: mm good the boys are practicing social distancing), both of them silent.

Just all-around awkward.

After a few minutes, Cas cleared his throat. "Do... Do you wanna... I mean, we should probably go out on a date, right?" He winced. Wow, he really knew how to ask someone out, huh?

"Oh, yeah," Sam answered. "Probably. Do you... I mean, I know a bar that's open tonight."

"Yup. Okay. See you... tonight. Yeah."

And they saw each other that night. And, you know, every other second of that first day. Because they were fucking room mates.

Cas honestly just wanted to die right there.

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

Cas had drunk a lot of alcohol.

The 'date' (aka two people sitting at a table and repeatedly ordering drinks) had been the most awkward two hours of both guy's lives. So, to make up for it, the had both gotten drunk.

Cas was definitely more drunk (he was pretty lightweight), but whatever.

While they were walking up their hallway, Cas tripped on a fold of the rug that was sticking up. Sam caught him. It wasn't romantic, like you would expect from your soulmate; there was no pausing as they both realized how close their lips were- it wasn't even the kind of catch just before you kissed the bride at a wedding -, no blush heating their cheeks. Sam just sorta... grabbed Cas's arm.

Sam pulled him up. "Thanks," Cas muttered.

"No worries."

When they got to their door, Cas searched his pockets for the key. "Shit," he grumbled. "Must've left it in the room. Sorry."

"Uh, it's fine," Sam coughed. "My, uh... my brother knows how to pick locks? I'll just ask him if he can come over."

"No, we shouldn't bother him," Cas rushed. "It's like twelve,"

"Honestly, it's fine," Sam laughed. "I'm not sure he actually does  sleep. He texts me from like twelve to three am every night without fail. He'll be fine with it."

"Okay," Cas conceded, still unsure.

Sam took out his phone and searched through the contacts. The phone hadn't even finished the first ring when he said, "Yeah, hey, Dean."

Silence for a moment.

"Me and my room mate are sort of locked out of our dorm." A moment of silence on Sam's part. "Why are we out at- Dean, we're in college!  Of course  we're out late! I-" he paused. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. I know,  Dean! God," He muttered. "Could you just get over here? We need you to pick the lock." He waited for his brother's response. "Thanks. See you soon."

He hung up and sighed. "Dean can be such a jerk  sometimes," he rolled his eyes, and Cas laughed. "What?" Sam asked, confused.

"It just sounds like me and my brother," Cas explained.

"You and your... wait, you have a brother?" Sam's mind whirled.

"Yeah. Why?" Sam didn't respond, and just then a man with blond hair came strolling down the hallway.

"This the dude, Sammy?" the guy asked, nodding at Cas.

"No, Dean, this is actually the guy who just murdered my room mate," Sam responded, sounding exasperated. "Yes, this is my room mate."

"'Sammy'?" Cas repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Dean laughed. "Alright, alright," he addressed 'Sammy', then looked at Cas. "What's your name?"

"Castiel Novak," Cas felt flustered for absolutely no reason.

To be honest, it sucked.

"Novak?" Dean asked, surprised.

Sam watched carefully. "Cas, you said you had an older brother?"

Dean's face fell, but only for a second. Then he stitched a smile right back on and said, "Is his soulmate's last name Winchester?"

"Yeah," Cas was slowly realizing what Sam had already figured out. "But mine is, too."

Dean blinked. "Oh," he said. "So, you and Sammy are...?" he pointed at each of them with one finger, then pointed the fingers at each other.

"First of all, ew," Sam answered. "Second of all... no, I don't think so."

It took Dean a second to realize what this meant. He squinted at Cas, and shrugged. "Always thought I had a thing for blue eyes."

Cas gave Sam a once over. "My brother is really small," he said.

Sam paled. "Like... he's really young?"

"Oh, God, no," Cas laughed. "He's just..." Cas took his hand and held it up to the middle of his stomach, then made a patting motion.

"Oh," Sam swallowed.

"Heh," Dean smirked at his younger brother. "Looks like you'll have lots of excuses to pick him up and... ya' know," he pushed his two pointer fingers together again.

"Ew," Sam shivered. "Please, please  stop."

Cas smiled apologetically. "My brother is like that too. He'll want to..." he gestured to Dean, not wanting to do what the green-eyed man had done. "a lot."

Sam held his stomach. "Can you just please  get us into the room," he asked Dean.

Dean grinned. "'Course," he took out an old card from an arcade that was probably long since shut down, and edged it into the slant of the lock. He pushed it forwards a couple of times, and the door unlocked (A/N: that wasnt the best description of this but whatever). "There ya go," Dean announced, stepping back from the door.

"Thanks," Sam muttered.

Cas smiled at Dean, noticing for the first time that when the light caught his eyes just right, you could see flecks of gold in them. Then Cas looked at Dean's lips.

Cas rushed inside his dorm, blushing like crazy, trying to forget what he'd just thought of doing to that man. "Oh, God," he groaned, collapsing on his bed.

Completely forgetting that Dean was still right there.

"Oh, I can't wait  to find out what you just thought of," Dean said with a  mischievous smile. "Hopefully hands-on learning."

Cas covered his face with his hands.

Dean laughed and shut the door.

Good lord, that man was going to kill Castiel dead.

[breanime]

Priorities (Part Two)

So this originally was a request from @castletrash for some Billy angst, and it became one of my favorite and most popular oneshots. I’ve had quite a few requests for Billy’s side of the story, particularly from @anabella-baby, so ya go!

You can read the original story, that focuses on the Reader’s side of things, here.

*gif not mine*

There had been many challenges Billy Russo had faced in his lifetime, but trying to juggle his work and his relationship with you was proving to be one of the biggest challenges in his life. Anvil was busier than ever; Frank had finally agreed to take his place at Billy’s side at work, and they were getting jobs and new contracts every other day. That would have been fine with Billy, except now his work was starting to impede on his relationship with you, and that just wouldn’t work for him.

“You love Anvil more than you love me!” You had cried, your beautiful eyes flooded with tears. Billy had disappointed you—again—by being over an hour late to a date—again—and he had hurt you. Again. He was afraid that you hated him, you were so angry—and had every right to be—and you were crying and yelling. But even if you hated him, he hated himself even more. Your words cut right through him—“you love Anvil more than me”—and he nearly fell to his knees from the force of it. You thought, you really thought, that you weren’t the absolute most important part of his life, and it was his fault you felt that way.

He was in front of you in seconds, eyes wide and heart pounding. A few minutes ago, you’d been a volcano; angry and fiery, throwing things and breaking plates, and he’d stood quietly and let you. You deserved your rage. You were entitled to it. But this, you saying that Anvil was more important to him than you—that was just wrong. “Don’t…” His voice broke. “Don’t ever say that again. I love you more than anything, Y/N, more than life itself.” He stared into your eyes, memorizing each and every tear that was trailing down your cheeks. “I love you so much.” Carefully, he wiped a tear from your cheek. “I know it doesn’t feel like that right now, and that’s my fault, but it’s true, I love you so much, Y/N. Please, don’t… Please don’t say that again.” He swallowed, watching you watch him and wishing he could take your pain away. He knew better than anyone what it felt like to be abandoned. You didn’t deserve that.

You sniffled, a soft, sad sound that tore his heart in two. “But that’s how it feels.”

He nodded, still holding your face in his hand. “I know. I’m sorry.” Slowly, he bent down, giving you time to move or push him away if you wanted to. You stayed where you were. “I’ll do better, baby, I promise, just please… I love you.” He looked into your eyes and knew that you were the most precious thing in his life. He’d worked almost all of his adult life to get to where he was now, to get Anvil to the respected, prominent business it was now, but none of that was worth losing you. He hadn’t planned to fall in love with you, you had been the best surprise in his life, and now that you were here and he had you, he would do anything to keep you. He needed you. He loved you, and he hoped you loved him too.

“I love you, too,” you whispered, and Billy closed his eyes for a second, happily overwhelmed with those four simple words. You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, and Billy relaxed against you. This was where you belonged. This was where he belonged.

He picked you up, bridal-style, and carried you to the bedroom. “I love you,” he said again, mouth on your forehead, “I love you so much,” as he laid you down in the bed, “I’m so sorry, baby,” as he kissed you, long fingers undressing you, “Never again…” He kissed your cheeks, tasting tears and licking them away, holding you close to him and hoping you could feel how much he loved you, needed you.

You kissed him back, and Billy knew he was the luckiest man alive because he had you. He thanked his lucky stars for each touch, each caress, each sweet, sweet kiss that you allowed him, knowing he didn’t deserve you. He tried to put his feelings into his body, letting you know how much he needed you, how much he adored and loved you. How sorry he was. He kissed every inch of you, whispered into your mouth how much he loved you, touched and held you like the goddess you were. He wanted—needed to have you forgive him.

You forgave him.

The two of you came upon a routine after that, and Billy tried to follow it. It wasn’t easy sometimes, there were days that you two had plans that ended up getting cancelled because of complications from work, and he was still late to dates, but the lines of communication were open. He was actually starting to feel pretty good about things between the two of you. So much so, in fact, that whenever he got a second to himself, he’d close the door, get out his phone, and look up engagement rings. He knew, and he’d known for a while, that you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

He was down to two rings now, and he sat at his desk, looking between them as he waited for Frank. They had some business to handle, but once that was over, he’d have a lot more free time—time to spend with you. Time to get down on one knee. Frank came in a few minutes later, and Billy tucked his phone in his pocket and headed out the door. It was familiar, the work he had to do with Frank, and it was easy, nice even, to put himself on autopilot and go by instinct. They had some business that needed squaring away with the Albanian gang, and before he knew it, Billy found himself headed to Philly. The work was easy—and rewarding—and Billy was glad to see Frankie back in his element.

Billy stood back as Frank pounded some poor idiot’s face into the pavement, hands in his pockets. He was wearing his riot gear, dressed in all-black, watching Frank work with a mixture of pride and boredom. Satisfied that Frankie had everything under control (which he did), Billy dug into his pocket and took out his phone. He had several missed calls from you, and a few from his office. He looked over at Frank. “You good, brother? I need to call Y/N.”

Frank didn’t look up from his…project. “I’m fine,” he grunted, “tell her I said hi.”

Billy chuckled, clicking your name and putting the phone to his ear. He needed to hear your voice, and he was eager to see you. Your anniversary was coming up, and Billy had plans for you. He thought it’d be cliché to propose the day of your anniversary, but he wanted to start planting the seeds, get a feel for how you’d react. He was pretty sure you wanted to marry him almost as much as he wanted to marry you, but he thought it’d be a good idea to start putting the idea out there. He smiled when he heard your voice on the other end of the phone.

“Billy,” you gasped out, you sounded breathless, and not in the way he liked, “where are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he answered easily, “me and Frankie made some headway with the Albanians and now we’re on our way to Philly to do some negotiations—”

“Philly?” You repeated. “I… what about tonight?”

“Tonight?” He paused. He’d assumed you were just worried because it was late, and you hadn’t heard from him, but you sounded… more than confused…hurt, even. His eyes widened, and his whole body froze. Even Frank could tell something was in the air, he stopped, fist still in the air, and turned to Billy, eyebrow raised. Your anniversary. It was today. He was supposed to be in New York, with you, at this very moment. “Shit… I forgot. Baby, I’m—” Billy heard a noise—something like a shout—before the call ended. “Shit,” he said again, staring down at his phone.

“Everything okay?” Frank asked.

Billy shook his head. “No,” he answered, voice low. He looked over at Frank, heart pounding in his chest. “I fucked up.”

They hopped back in the car and sped back to New York. Billy, knowing it was futile, called you multiple times, but it went straight to voicemail. If he was a betting man, he’d bet that you broke your phone. You were probably pissed. You probably thought. His hands tightened around the wheel. God, you probably thought he didn’t care about you at all. You love Anvil more than you love me. Frankie tried to be positive, saying that he’d tell her it was all his fault and that she’d forgive him (Billy) at some point, but Billy wasn’t so sure. After he dropped Frank back at Anvil, he got in his car and went straight to your place. The two of you had decided to have two apartments, yours and his, in case anything ever went south with Anvil. He opened the door, holding his breath, and walked into the living room.

It was a mess. Your phone—or what was left of it, rather—was smashed up on the floor. He imagined you throwing your phone against the wall. The side table by the couch was flipped over, and everything that had been on it was scattered on the floor. He went to your room and checked under your bed, the bed he’d slept in with you, and saw that your overnight bag was gone.

“Shit.” He said again.

He went by the garage underneath your building to check for your car. It was gone. He knew you wouldn’t go to his place, so he called Karen.

He didn’t bother with a hello. “Is Y/N there?” He asked, running a hand through his hair.

“No,” she said back, “Frank’s here. He said he made you miss your anniversary, and I called her, but she didn’t answer.”

“She broke her phone,” Billy told her, “Threw it against the wall. She… If you see her, will you give me a call?”

Karen paused. “If she wants,” she hedged.

Billy closed his eyes. “Please. I won’t come over; I just need to know she’s safe.” He pictured your face, could practically feel the warmth of your tears on his fingertips. “Please.”

“Okay,” she sighed, “I’ll text you if she comes by. But if she doesn’t want to see you, I need you to stay away.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, lying easily, “Thanks.” He hung up. Unsure of what to do, and unable to keep still, Billy went to his place, just to be sure you weren’t there.

You weren’t.

He ended up at Curtis’ place. He was trying to keep it together, but he was panicking. He knew you were mad at him, probably enraged, actually, but he’d hoped you were being safe. If you were out driving and upset, you could get into an accident, you could get hurt. Curtis had made him a pot of coffee, knowing that Billy wasn’t planning on getting any sleep until he talked to you and was sure you were okay. He was on his third cup. “I’m gonna lose her,” he said, staring down at the warm beverage. He wished he was holding you instead.

“No you’re not,” Curtis said back, “She’s pissed right now, but she’ll be alright. She probably just needs some time to cool down.”

Billy shook his head. “She’s gonna leave me,” he sighed out, “I fucked up. I promised her I’d be better, I promised I’d be there for her and I wasn’t.” He looked up, blinking back tears. “I don’t know what to do, Curt.”

Curtis got up and patted Billy’s shoulder. “You hurt her, man,” he said, “but she loves you. Just give her time.” Billy nodded. He wanted to believe that, wanted to think that this was just another fight, that you needed a day to clear your head, but he knew better. This was it. He’d broken his promise, he’d made you think you were an afterthought, made you think you meant anything less to him than everything, and now you were gone.

You weren’t coming back. Billy looked up at Curtis and nodded. “Thanks, brother.”

Curtis gave him a soft smile. “I’m gonna head to bed, you need anything, just let me know.” He patted Billy’s shoulder again before standing up. “If you hear from Y/N, give me a holler.”

“Yeah, alright.” Billy heard him walk away, his footsteps uneven, and sat back on the couch. He stared over at the TV across from him and saw his reflection.

He hated himself.

The next morning, Curtis found him in the same place he’d left him. “Y/N called last night,” he reported, phone in his hand, “She said she was fine, and she just needed some time alone.” He handed to phone to Billy. “Here.”

Billy played the voicemail; it was short, the message Curtis had recited had been nearly word for word. Your voice sounded strained, and he knew you’d been crying. You said you were fine, but he knew you weren’t. And he knew why.

He left Curtis’ place and went to his own. There was an empty glass on his kitchen table. He flipped the table over and watched the glass shatter on the floor. He picked up a chair and threw it across the room, stalking over to the living room and giving it the same treatment. He moved silently, so pissed that he was calm. Billy knew the reason you’d left was him, he knew he was the cause of your hurt, and there was nothing he could do to take that pain away. No less than ten minutes later, his entire penthouse was in ruins, glass and furniture thrown all over the place. He stood in the middle of the wreckage, chest heaving, and felt just as empty as he did before.

So he went to Anvil and did it all over again in his office.

He sat on the floor, surrounded by scattered papers and busted furniture, his hand in his lap. Billy, in his cold, self-inflicted rage, had punched the wall a couple of times. Now his hand was bleeding and raw, pulsating with pain. It had been hours since Curtis had heard from you, and Billy was coming undone with every second that passed without having heard from you. He kept calling you, hoping that maybe you’d gotten a replacement phone, but it went straight to voicemail.

He ended up back at your place. He didn’t break anything—though he wanted to—instead, he sat on your bed, the same bed he’d spent the night in, the same bed he’d made love to you in, holding you and kissing you as he moved inside of you, head in his hands. He didn’t even look up when he heard the door open. He knew it wasn’t you. From the sound of the footsteps, it was probably Frank.

“Bill?” Frank’s rough voice sounded louder than usual in the empty apartment.

“Back here,” Billy called back. He heard Frank come in but didn’t look up. He hadn’t slept, but his guilt, shame, and pain kept him wide awake. “Hey, Frankie.”

“Hey… I saw the office. Curt went by your place and said it was even worse.”

“Yeah,” Billy said, “thought it would help. It didn’t.”

“I could’ve told you that,” Frank’s foot shifted, and Billy finally looked up at him. He looked about as bad as Billy felt. “This is on me. I’m sorry, Bill.”

“Nah,” Billy shook his head, “It’s not. This is my fault. I thought I had this all in order, thought I could have my cake and eat it, too.” He ran his bruised hand through his hair. “I should have paid more attention,” he sighed, “What we were doing was important, but… I should have known it was our anniversary, should have been there for her… This is on me, and me alone, Frank. There’s no one else to blame.” Frank looked away, and Billy knew he had something else to say. “What’s up, Frank?”

“Y/N called Karen. Eighteen minutes ago,” he said, anticipating Billy’s next question, “She said she’d be back in a few days, didn’t say back from where. She said she was safe, and that she was okay, and…”

Billy titled his head. “And what?”

“And she wanted Karen to tell you that it was over between you two,” he reported, his tone apologetic. “I’m sorry.”

Billy stood up then and punched the wall. Everything in his mind was white: empty, loud, and painful. He’d come in with the intention to just be in your space, planned to leave it all the way he’d found it, but now. You love Anvil more than you love me. Now it was over. He’d hurt you beyond repair, he’d hurt you so much that you didn’t even want to be in the same city as him, let alone talk to him. He heard Frankie’s voice “Bill, Bill, stop”, and felt his hands on his shoulders. He pushed him away, turning and stalking to the living room. Frank didn’t follow him. Billy grabbed things at random, a lamp here, a bottle of lotion there, and threw them as far as they would go. He was careful not to break anything he knew you cared about. When he grabbed your favorite mug, he just growled and put it back on the table. Everything else was fair game; he’d clean it up later, of course, but right now, he just needed to rage. The more he moved, the more things he crushed and broke, the more he felt everything that ever mattered to him slip out his hands. He screamed, a long, wordless cry, and punched another hole in the wall, welcoming the sharp pain that came with the action. He imagined punching himself, wished he could match the pain in his heart with something external, something physical. He deserved it. You didn’t.

You deserved better. He knew that. But he also knew that nothing was over, nothing was really over, until he spoke to you.

He whipped his phone out and dialed your number, heart pounding. “You got 24 hours to call me,” he said, his voice just an octave above a growl, “before I come and get you.” He closed his eyes, picturing your face. God, he missed you. He needed to be with you, needed to hold you and kiss you. He’d been planning to get down on his knees, and now he was adjusting that plan. He’d get down on his knees and beg. Billy Russo, begging. But you were worth it. “I love you.”

Later, after he’d nearly yelled himself hoarse, Billy found himself back at Anvil. He addressed his staff, telling them not to call or bother him for the next few days, and then went to the store. He bought drywall, paint, hammer, nails, screws, and new furniture. He spent the night cleaning up your apartment, taking a moment to call your phone company and order a new phone for you. He fixed what he could and replaced what he couldn’t, taking great care to be sure that he didn’t leave any glass or debris in your apartment. Billy sat down at the table, eyes heavy but unable to sleep. He looked down at his phone. Curtis and Frank had called to check in on him, and he knew they had tried to reach you as well. He called you again, closing his eyes when he was greeted by your voicemail.

“Please,” he began, feeling like the walls were closing in on him, “baby, please… I am so, so sorry that I forgot our anniversary. I’m an asshole, I know. I messed everything up. But please, baby, just tell me you’re okay, tell me you’re safe, please, I need to know you’re safe.” He took a breath, trying to calm himself down. He tasted tears in the back of his throat. “I… I fucked it all up. I knew I would.” He shook his head, hand shaking as he held the phone to his ear. “I knew I’d do something to…” He inhaled sharply. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Better than war, better than money, better than Anvil, and I should have made you feel like that, because it’s true. You make me so happy, and I…” He dragged his bruised hand over his face. Too little, too late. “God,” he sighed, opening his eyes and letting the first tear fall, “I made you feel unloved and alone and abandoned.” Billy hated himself in that moment more than he’d ever hated himself before. He’d done a lot of terrible shit in his life, made a lot of mistakes, but this… Doing this to you, hurting you, making you feel the way you probably felt now… This was the worst thing he’d ever done. “I am so, so sorry baby, I love you so much. I’m sorry. I know I don’t deserve you, and that I fucked everything up and that I probably…I probably lost you forever, but please… Call me back—or Frank or Karen or Curtis. Please…I love you.”

He spent the rest of the night at the table, head in his hands, waiting to hear from you. He ate a little, tried to sleep, but couldn’t do it. He watched the sun rise and felt empty at the sight of the daily miracle. He wanted to see you, wanted to wipe the tears from your face and hold you to him, wanted to beg your forgiveness and feel your lips against his. He wanted to see your smile. He wanted to hear your voice.

His wish was granted. His phone rang, and he didn’t recognize the number, but he knew who it was.

“Y/N—”

“I’m in Connecticut,” you said, voice all business, “I’m fine, I’m safe, I’m gonna stay here for a few days, and I don’t want to see you when I get back.” Then you hung up.

Billy stood up, redialing the number, knowing you wouldn’t pick up. He ran the number through his system, memorizing the name of the hotel. He knew exactly who to call. “Hey, it’s Russo. I need a favor.” He gave a few details before hanging up, grabbing his keys. His next call was to Frank. “I’m going to Connecticut,” he informed him, “I got a ride from Morales, I should be there in two hours.”

“Good luck, brother,” Frank said, “and just… Give her time.”

“Yeah,” Billy nodded, even though Frank couldn’t see him, “Yeah, I will.”

Morales was an old friend from Afghanistan and a gifted pilot, and he could tell as soon as he picked Billy up that he was in a bad place. Neither of them spoke the entire way there. Billy gave him a quick nod as he got into the rental car that was waiting for him and drove to your hotel.

He called you as he stood in front of your room—as a security consultant, it was almost too easy to get your room number and information from the front desk—but you didn’t answer. He was about to knock on the door when it swung open, and he came face to face with the love of his life.

He put the phone into his pocket as he stared at you. You looked so sad, so broken. His hands twitched at his side, the urge to hold you strong. “You said you didn’t want to see me when you got back, so… I came to see you.” He said simply.

You blinked. “You—how did you get here so fast?”

“Made a few calls, chartered a chopper to bring me here,” he answered. “Can I come in?”

Wordlessly, you stepped back, letting Billy come into the room. He looked around. So this is where you’d run away to. Where he’d forced you to go with his neglect. His eyes landed back to you, looking you over briefly. “You okay?” He asked. “Are—are you hurt? Are you safe?”

You nodded. “I’m fine.” You looked him up and down. He was still wearing his riot gear, and he wished he’d had the foresight to change before he came here. “When was the last time you slept?” You asked, still concerned for him.

“I haven’t slept since you left me.” He answered honestly, giving a one-shouldered shrug. “I trashed my office, broke everything in my apartment, called in all kinds of favors to track you down…”

“Well, here I am,” you plopped onto the bed and sighed, “Billy, I… I don’t even know what to say to you,” you looked up at, tears in your eyes, “you promised you’d do better,” your voice broke, “You lied to me.”

Billy dropped to his knees in front of you, just like he knew he would. “I know,” his eyes were shining, “I broke my promise and I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry, you deserve better than this, better from me.” He blinked back tears. He wanted to hold you, wanted to touch you, but he kept his distance.

“I do,” you agreed, your words coming out in a whimper that broke his heart. You wrapped your arms around yourself, and Billy knew it should be his arms holding you.

Billy reached out and put his hands on your knees. He was careful with his touch, if you tensed up, he’d remove them. But you didn’t. If anything, you leaned into it. “I’m so sorry, baby. Frank needed my help, and I thought I had time to help him and make it to dinner, but…” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I made a promise to you and I broke it. And if,” he ducked his head down before bringing it back up, eyes swimming in unshed tears, “if you have to leave me, I get it… I fucked up. I fucked up so many times and you were so patient, and I took advantage of that. I don’t deserve you. I never deserved you.” He took a shuddering breath, trying to keep himself together. “I love you so much, Y/N, and I’ll always love you, but… if you tell me that you never want to see me again…” The next words he spoke were hard, but he had to say them. He had to let you know that he would do anything for you, even if it broke his heart. “I’ll honor it.”

“I don’t want that,” you said, putting your hands over Billy’s on your knees, “but I can’t just forget and forgive. I can’t trust you. I love you, Billy, I love you so much, but you…” You took a deep breath. “…You put work ahead of me every time and I can’t take it anymore. I can’t live like that anymore.”

“I know,” he nodded, eyes never leaving yours, “I know, sweetheart.”

“I love you,” you whispered. And those three words were enough to make Billy’s heart stop. You still loved him.

“I love you, too,” he said. You moved, wiping a tear from the corner of his eyes, and the soft, simple gesture made him want to cry. But he needed to be strong for you. This wasn’t about him—he’d fucked up, he deserved to feel this way. You didn’t. You needed to heal, and if he needed to break to make that happen, then he would.

You took another breath, staring down at Billy. He could see in your eyes that what you were about to say wasn’t easy for you, and it wouldn’t be easy for him to hear. “I don’t want to lose you, but I can’t do this with you anymore, I can’t keep being a footnote in your life.” You leaned forward and placed both hands on either side of Billy’s face, eyes boring into his. “If I ask you to do something, will you do it?”

“I’d do anything for you,” he said with no hesitation.

“I need another few days here,” you said, “and I need you to go. I want all of your stuff out of my apartment by the time I get back.” Billy’s physically flinched, but he didn’t interrupt. “I think… I think I’m gonna need some time before I can be with you again, but if you’ll wait—”

“—of course I’ll wait,” Billy promised, nodding. He’d sleep at your doorstep if he had to. Any sense of pride went out of the door when it came to you, that was how much he loved you.

“—then maybe we can get back to where we were,” you finished, “because I really do love you, Billy.”

“I love you, too,” he said back.

You moved, tears falling down your pretty face, and pulled him towards you in a hug. He was shaking, and you kissed the side of his face. Billy closed his eyes, taking in your scent and the feel of you against him. He wanted to memorize this moment, wanting to keep this in his heart in case he… In case of the worse. The two of you stayed huddled up like that; half of you on the bed and the other half crouched on the floor with Billy, for almost an hour, no words passing between you, but plenty of things being said nonetheless. Neither of you were still crying by the time you separated. He had hope. You loved him, and he would give you as much time as you needed to come back to him. He’d be waiting.

You smiled weakly at Billy, running your hands through his thick, dark hair. The gesture nearly made him faint, he was so happily overwhelmed by the affectionate gesture. “I’ll see you in New York,” you said.

He smiled back. “See you in New York.”

The first thing Billy did when he got back was get all of his shit out of your apartment. If you wanted space, if you needed time away from him, then he would give it to you. It was hard, once it was all said and done, and there was no trace left of him, but it had to be done. Your phone had arrived, and he left it on your kitchen table. He wasn’t surprised when he got back to his place to find Frank there.

“I think I need to take a step back from Anvil,” Billy said, voice hollow. He’d had a rough day.

Frank nodded. “How about you get some rest, and I’ll call Curt and let him know you’re taking a break.”

“I don’t want to leave it all on him,” he said.

“You won’t. I’m with him. And I’m with you, Bill. Come on,” Frank opened the door and led Billy into the penthouse, “Between me and Curt,” he went on, “We’ll handle Anvil. You just worry about you.”

For the next few weeks, Billy kept himself busy getting his shit in order. He still worked at Anvil, of course, but he’d cut his hours down considerably, wanting to be more available and accessible to you. The paper even ran a short story on him and Anvil, and he smiled when he saw it. He loved you so much, not a day went by that he didn’t have to convince himself not to go to your job or apartment. He missed you like crazy, but he kept his promise and kept his distance like he said he would. But you hadn’t said anything about sending him a letter. He wrote you a quick note, and signed it with what was on his mind and in his heart: I’ll always wait for you. I love you. I miss you.

The day you called him back, the day you got the note, had been one of the best days of his life. Miraculously, you had said you wanted to see him, and he’d practically broke his neck rushing to you.

You were smiling when you opened the door, and Billy smiled back, feeling lighter than he had in weeks. “Hey,” you said simply, moving to let him through the door.

“Hey,” he said back.

“You’re right on time,” you said, referring to your brief phone call.

He grinned. He’d hoped you’d been timing him. He wanted to prove to you that he was better, he’d learned his lesson, and he’d never make the mistake of hurting you like that again. He’d do anything for you. “And I always will be,” he promised, “from now on.”

And he kept that promise. You didn’t want things to go back the way they were, not right away, and Billy respected that. So he wooed you all over again. He sent flowers to your place, brought you lunch and dinner on days he knew you were too busy to cook, called and texted you as much as he could, asking about your day and checking up on you. There were still days when work got in the way; it was inevitable, but Billy made sure to always let you know if he was going to be working late or come late to a date. And he always made up for it. The first time you made love since breaking up had been incredible, Billy had lost himself in your touch, grateful that he had you in his life again. He was perfectly fine with taking it slow, he liked the chance to get to make you fall in love with him again, liked the build-up. Every day he felt more and more confident that he was going to get you back, and every day he tried to show you that he loved you.

The day you asked about moving in together had been what he was waiting for—the sign that showed you were ready to be with him, really be with him, again. He knew you loved him, but he also knew that you were being careful, keeping your guard up in case he hurt you again. He didn’t blame you, but he tried to make you see that—despite everything—you could trust him. So when you started asking about the penthouse and spending more time there, he thought it was just because you wanted to be around him more, but it was also because you were trying to decide if you wanted to stay there. Apparently, you did.

“Would you… Would you want to move in together?” You asked. You were in bed, drinking a cup of coffee, wearing one of his hoodies and nothing else. “I mean… It wouldn’t have to happen right away or anything, you know…”

“Let’s start moving you in this weekend,” he said, grinning.

After that, Billy felt more than secure in his relationship with you. Every night, he went to sleep with you in his arms, and he woke up to your beautiful smile and soft lips every morning. Anvil was doing fine—better than fine, actually, with Billy, Frank, and Curtis at the helm, and his workload had become more manageable than ever before. He had you, and you loved him.

You were asleep, head on his chest, while Billy scrolled through his phone. He looked down at you, his angel, and thought back on those dark times—nearly a year ago now—when you left him. He couldn’t go through that again. He wouldn’t. He loved you more than he loved anything else in his life, more than wealth, more than prestige, more than Anvil—you were all he wanted in life. Anything else was just a bonus. He grinned, his face illuminated by the light of his phone. He found the ring. He made the decision.

This time, when he got down on his knees, it would be to ask you to be his wife, to be by his side for the rest of his life. And this time, when he promised you he’d love, honor, hold, and respect you for the rest of his life, he’d keep it. He wouldn’t dare break it, not even once.

This time, he had his priorities straight.

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

I hope you liked this! Let me know what you think of it, please! 

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[ouyang-zizhen]

A LingZhen Ranch AU OS

Yes, they still don’t have official titles because that’s how they’re named for now XD So, in this AU, City boy Jin Ling has to go lay low at his uncle Wei Wuxian’s ranch because his other uncle Jin GuangYao messed up and is now in prison, and being the heir of the infamous Jin Corp, the press was being heavy on him. Of course, Jin Ling doesn’t want to go on the countryside, but uncle Jiang Cheng didn’t leave him much of a choice. Farm boy ZiZhen, foster child of Wei Wuxian and Lan WangJi since he was thirteen years old, makes quite the impression on Jin Ling once he gets there. 

In this OS, their relationship is established, Jin Ling went back to the city after things calmed down, and ZiZhen visits him for the first time. Enjoy!

The city’s light tumbled through his half-closed eyelids. He could only watch in amazement wherever they went. The neons, the skyscrapers, despite the night being advanced, everything was so alight and alive. So different from where he came from. 

- Jin Ling! We need… we need to go see that movie! It looks good!

ZiZhen pointed to the giant billboard at the entrance of the nearest subway station. His words were slurred by a whole evening of them jumping from bar to bar, enjoying what he dubbed their “first official date in the big city”. Jin Ling had rolled his eyes, arguing that they’ve already had plenty of dates together, but he had to admit - albeit reluctantly - that his boyfriend’s looked too cute in his excitement to deny. After all, ZiZhen had only seen the city by day so far, so Jin Ling agreed to show him around the district that never sleeps. 

- ZiZhen, love. That’s a perfume ad. 

He looked confused for a few seconds before laughing at himself, and Jin Ling couldn’t help but smile and laugh too. 

By around midnight, they’ve been to four of Jin Ling’s top 10 favourite bars and restaurants, and, seeing ZiZhen’s state already, he realized he might have been a little too ambitious with his plans. Despite his height and muscle mass, his farm boy was a real light weight when it came to drinking. 

- Come on, he said, putting an arm around his waist, I think it’s time to go home. 

ZiZhen agreed, but not before pulling his boyfriend into a kiss that left Jin Ling breathless. When they parted, he put a hand on his chest, voice hoarse. 

- Okay, let me just call an Uber. 

While they waited outside, underneath the awning surrounding one of the many theaters in that area, ZiZhen pulled his boyfriend into a warm embrace, his chin resting on Jin Ling’s head. The latter hugged back and smiled when ZiZhen rubbed his cheek against his hair. Despite the people coming and going on the street, the world was somehow quiet around them. When he saw a couple being photographed by a third party on the sidewalk, a couple of meters from them, ZiZhen remembered the conversation with Jiang Cheng’s a few weeks prior. The shovel talk had gone much better than he expected, but some of what he said that day still puzzled him. “Do you know who he is, to the public?”, he had asked, and ZiZhen had to admit that, besides being the now young CEO of Jin Corp, he still had no idea who his boyfriend was to the rest of the world, especially not to the media. But he knew one thing for sure. 

- If I ever do something that makes you feel ashamed in public, you can break up with me!

Jin Ling pulled away and lifted his head up, absolute confusion written on his face.

- What?

- If you feel ashamed of me, ZiZhen repeated serenely, you can break up with me.

- Yes, that I heard, but where is this coming from? Why do you think I would break up with you? Why would I feel ashamed of you?

Jin Ling was now scowling, his tone irritated… and perhaps afraid? ZiZhen caressed his cheek and kissed the line that formed in between his eyebrows.

- Your uncle… When he gave me the shovel talk, he told me about your public status and -

- What did he tell you?!

Jin Ling’s whole body stiffen and he would have pushed away if ZiZhen didn’t hold him there. His boyfriend kept that same calm expression and smiled at him.

- He just asked if I knew about what the public thinks of you, and I just thought… If your public image is that important, I know I’m just a farm boy, and I don’t know that much about the city, so… if I ever do something that would taint your image in any way, you can leave. I love you, and I just want you to be happy, and - 

He got cut off by Jin Ling’s lips on his, pushing him against the pillar of the awning. 

- Idiot, he said tenderly when he pulled away, that’s not what Jiujiu meant.

Their Uber driver honked at them once, startling them. Before they climbed in, Jin Ling kissed him again.

- I’ll tell you another time. When I’m ready. And both of us are sober.

***

The car smelled like ice cream. That’s all ZiZhen could think about as they drove in silence through the city, Jin Ling’s hand in his. When they passed in front of the third board advertising yet another brand of ice cream, he turned to his boyfriend, startling him.

- I want gelato. 

Jin Ling raised an eyebrow at him.

- We can have some tomorrow.

- It’s already tomorrow, ZiZhen insisted. I want gelato. 

- The shops are probably all closed by now, Jin Ling scoffed, yet unable to completely hide his smile at his boyfriend’s eagerness.

- I know this place near 3rd avenue, it’s open 24/7, I can take you there if you want, offered the Uber driver. 

- Yes please!

- Wait!

Jin Ling turned to his boyfriend.

- If we wait until tomo - later today, I can bring you to the best gelato parlour in town. 

ZiZhen shook his head, imperturbable.

- I want gelato now. 

Seeing his boyfriend’s unmoved expression, ZiZhen closed the distance between them and softly kissed his cheek. 

- Please?

With a huff, Jin Ling turned to the driver and agreed to his suggestion, much to ZiZhen’s delight. 

The gelato parlour was empty save for two seemingly high customers eating their share at one of the tables, laughing at a joke they made five minutes prior. Behind the counter, the tired but welcoming smile of the employee has long turned into an annoyed pout. ZiZhen has been staring at the flavours for the past fifteen minutes now. Jin Ling was already on his second serving. 

- Come on, ZiZhen, just pick a flavour!

ZiZhen looked up, scandal written on his face. 

- No! This is my first time having gelato, and I want it to be the best experience I can ever… experience. 

Maybe, but you’re clearly not this poor girl’s first customer. Pick a flavour, and have yourself another serving if you want more. 

- It’s not that easy!

Jin Ling slowly exhaled through his nostrils, exchanging a look with the clerk. He apologetically shrugged, mouthing “I’m sorry”, before taking another spoonful of gelato. Another five minutes passed. He ordered another one. 

- Okay. I know what I’ll take, said ZiZhen.

- Fucking finally!

They sat down on the now empty chairs, ZiZhen carefully tasting the four different flavours in his extra large container. Jin Ling finished his and threw it in the trash can. 

- So, how does it taste, Master Chef? 

ZiZhen stared at his cup, spoon hanging between it and his mouth. He pouted.

- Disappointing. 

- I told you we should’ve waited to go to the other place. 

ZiZhen brought the spoon to his mouth and nodded.

- Can we still go tomorrow anyway?

Jin Ling smirked.

- You mean today?

ZiZhen lightly whacked his shoulder with his spoon and pulled his tongue at him, then quickly finished the rest of his gelato. After getting up, he pulled Jin Ling on his feet and held his hand, leaving a taste of coffee and caramel on his lips with a kiss. 

- Let’s go home?

Jin Ling nodded.

- Ya. We can walk from here, it’s not too far. 

They left the parlour, fingers intertwined.

***

Home was farther than Jin Ling anticipated. They had been walking, hand in hand, for half an hour, and still, no sign of his apartment building. While they started walking at the same pace, now, Jin Ling had slowed a few steps behind, while ZiZhen kept ahead. But there was no way he would tell his farm boy how much his feet hurt. He didn’t spend these months on his uncle’s ranch to complain about aching limbs so soon. Jin Ling didn’t get to finish his mental pep talk when ZiZhen stopped walking.

- Are you alright?

Jin Ling frowned.

- Of course I’m alright, what would make you think I’m not? 

ZiZhen looked at his boyfriend and smiled, understanding. 

- You’ve been digging your nails in my hand for at least five minutes. 

Jin Ling looked at their hands and loosened his grip, noticing the half-moon shape imprinted in ZiZhen’s skin. He kept his eyes on the ground, cheeks reddening. 

- I’m sorry. 

ZiZhen laughed, and pulled him closer. Jin Ling let out a scream of surprise when what he thought would be a hug became ZiZhen’s arms behind his back and knees, lifting him up from the ground. 

- Hey! Put me down! You’re still drunk!

- I’m not, and your feet hurt. 

- So?

ZiZhen laughed again.

- So, isn’t this more comfortable?

Jin Ling would have argued, but his pride left in a huff and he answered by weaving his arms around his neck, head dropping on his shoulder. The surprisingly steady rocking of the walk and the heat of ZiZhen’s body slowly lulled him to sleep. 

***

He was on his bed when he opened his eyes, ZiZhen curled behind him, Fairy at their feet. Jin Ling turned around, careful not to wake him up and softly kissed the tip of his nose.

- Fine, you deserve another round of gelato, he whispered. 

ZiZhen responded with an incomprehensible mumble and pulled him closer. Jin Ling laughed quietly and fell back asleep in the crook of his shoulder. 

It’s important to note that none of the OS I’ve been writing so far would exist without my amazing 2 am brainstorm partner @demonitized-cultivation​ (otherwise known as @mistress-jin-ling​). This one is no exception.

Huge thanks also to @eternalserenity​, for her many insights and contributions to these ideas also!

@bi-the-wei​, thank you for beta reading this with such enthusiasm!

@chi-zi​, hope you’ll enjoy this one!

[tizravenkatthing]

Spellbucks

A/N: So.... I’ve put this off long enough I think and I guess I should’ve been writing but oh well. This round it’s time for some Prinxiety! As per usual, please enjoy and I encourage constructive criticism if you have any for me.

Trigger Warnings: NIL

Pairings: Prinxiety (Again, just for this chapter)

Taglist: @peach-cake-slice, @peachflavoredcupcake, @no-i-dont-have-a-gender

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Spellbucks Cafe

Chapter 2: Storm’s a’brewin

A tinkle of the bell signaled a new customer had arrived to the little cafe. Patton was as bouncy as he always did, and he was delighted to receive the man who stepped through his doors.

“Roman, right? I’m glad you came back!” the bubbly manager exclaimed.

As Roman smiled awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck, Virgil turned his head to look at Patton and the man he was addressing, his attention drawn away from his homework at Patton’s loud, bubbly voice. As the two spoke, Virgil studied the man who Patton was talking to. They seemed quite friendly, though, Virgil was quite sure he didn’t recognize the man, nor seem him around before.

The man had deep emerald eyes, tan skin and his chocolate brown hair was half dyed to gold. And strangely enough, the man had looked to the side, at him, while talking to Patton and immediately turned his gaze away with a blush when he noticed Virgil looking back. That was definitely odd, did he catch a cold or something?

Meanwhile, Roman was freaking out. Not just normal freaking out but ‘extremely-gay-and-I-saw-my-crush-looking-at-me’ freaking out. Alarm bells were ringing in his mind as he faked his best smile as he talked to the cheerful Patton. He hoped he didn’t look weird. Was his smile crooked?? His hair our of place??? Why was his emo crush staring at him?!!?!?? Despite all his worries, he manages to sit himself, at the same spot he sat at last time, and picked up the menu. He couldn’t stop his turmoil of emotions as he chanced a glance sideways to the emo. By the time he had sat, the emo had got back to work on his papers. Using that chance, he feigned reading the menu as he took in the sight of the skinnier man. 

His hair was dyed purple and he wore a jacket that looked a patchwork of black and checkered purple which was halfheartedly stitched together. The eye shadow the emo sported was extremely dark, matching the color of his ripped jeans. The whole look was what he would usually call edgy or dull but for the person he was looking at, it all came together perfectly. He didn’t notice Patton approaching him as he observed the emo’s sharp jawline, his soft-looking hair, his delicate fingers....

“Roman?”

“AAH!!” Roman shrieked and then quickly covered his mouth a second later, drawing the attention of every patron in the cafe.

Roman’s face flushed red as mutters ensued and he got strange looks. Turning to Patton, he barely remembered to compose himself. 

“P-patton, I’m sorry, I was just... L-lost in thought.” Roman stuttered and gave Patton a sheepish grin. 

Patton raised a brow a him and looked at him in concern, “You sure you’re alright, Roman?”

“Y-yes. Absolutely. Perfectly fine, why wouldn’t I be??” He sputtered and rambled on, oooh, dear lord he was doomed.

Patton kept his expression of concern but pushed past it, “Right.... So, are you ready to order?”

Oh, shoot. He was so busy admiring his crush that he forgot to look at the menu! Roman quickly flipped through the menu in front of him and randomly pointed out a drink and a snack.

“U-uh, could I have these please?” He asked, trying his best to play off his panic.

Patton looked at him weird and he knew he must’ve pointed out something wrong. 

“Uhm... Sure. One Chill Pill and one Super Sugar Cake, coming up.” Patton repeated the order and Roman nodded. 

What was with the look, the order sounded totally normal. He looked down and observed his choices, only then did he see what was wrong. The Super Sugar Cake was filled with an extreme amount of sugar and sweet treats that even Roman couldn’t handle. It was stated that it induced hyper-activeness due to the high levels of sugar and was recommended for either extreme sweet tooths or those needed a large energy boost. And Roman didn’t look like he needed either. He had a healthy glow like he had slept like a baby and didn’t look the type to be extremely sweet toothed.

He cursed a little and scratched his head, gosh darn it, how was he going to survive that sugar bomb of a snack?! Beside him, Virgil had observed Roman and snickered softly at his panicked look. It was clear how the man hadn’t thought it through. He wondered though, what caused the guy to be so distracted to even forget to look at the menu?

Roman had heard the snicker, and without a second thought, whipped around and looked at Virgil, firing off an annoyed retort.

“What’re you laughing at, Hot Topic?”

They both froze, Virgil from the shock of being called hot and Roman from the realization that he had just got annoyed at his crush. Roman panicked, scrambling for something to say, his mind a mess of words of things to say and not to say, but Virgil beat him to it.

“So.... You’re telling me I’m attractive?” Virgil asked, surprising Roman.

“Huh? Uhm........” Roman looked like a deer caught in headlights, not sure what to do but slowly processing his words to form a reply. “......... Yes?”

Virgil’s cheeks flared with heat, going red as he now felt flustered and Roman was just in awe at how cute his crush was. Roman was known as a hopeless romantic among his friends, often times he didn’t think before he acted and for the better or worse, he did just that.

“Speaking of you, Hot Topic, I don’t think I caught your name?”

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

What started as a pursuit became a playful game of cat and mouse after a week of seeing each other at the cafe and talking, Virgil wasn’t so sure about dating Roman just yet though he loved to tease him. A lot. Roman had blurted out that he wanted to date him on the first day they spoke and that was a little weird for Virgil. No one had confessed to him before. Of course, he didn’t tell Roman his name even if he knew Roman’s (Well, the man told him without hesitation so could you blame him?). He had then dared Roman to try to get him to love him back. Just to see how far he’d go, and oh, try he did.

The second second was filled with roses and flirting, with Virgil deflecting and even putting down his attempts to get his number or his name. The third day, Roman had tried serenading Virgil with a song he had written and even more attempts at flirting. Obviously, Virgil deflected but decided that he would tease Roman, to try to get him to stop. The fourth, till seventh day, it was like a game between them. Roman would try to woo him and then he would then deflect it with teasing to try to make brunet blush or stutter, effectively halting the flirting and embarrassing comments for a time.

And by the seventh day, somehow he had quietly admitted to himself that, alright. Roman was adorable and also undeniably handsome. Like, did you see those dimples? And this gorgeous hair? His smile was somehow so cute?? And than his expressions, he loved it when he managed to make Roman blush, or annoyed. He didn’t want to admit defeat yet though, he wanted to keep playing their little game, buy himself time to think it through.

A tinkle of the bell and Virgil looked up to see who it was, the sight of the man he was thinking walking through the door making him smile. When Roman got close enough he leaned on his palm to look at him.

“So, Princey, what will it be today? A dramatic stage play? A poem? Oh, maybe a ring?” he teased.

Oddly, Roman didn’t react and just seemed..... Distant. He laughed at the joke but it was so much different from before... Like he had.... Given up?

“Oh.... Well, sorry to disappoint but I’ve got nothing today.” he said, looking away.

What was going on?? Did he hit his head or something? Virgil was almost scared to ask, scared he did something wrong to upset Roman. He leaned forward and looked Roman in the eye.

“Ro.. You alright? You’re not usually.... Like this.”

Roman just smiled and shrugged, quietly sitting in his seat and calling on Patton to order. They didn’t talk much, and it bothered Virgil. More than it should have. He spoke and tried to get Roman to talk but Roman only gave him short, almost curt, answers. He felt...... Weird. It hurt to see Roman like this. So..... Unlike the man he knew before. It was so strange, it was so odd, he didn’t know why but he felt deeply bothered. While Roman was looking off somewhere, distantly, he gripped his rippled purple shirt, near his heart. Something clenched at his heart but he didn’t know what feeling that was.

When Roman stood, Virgil was quick to catch him by the hand, somehow scared. “W-where.... Uh.... Where are you going...?” he asked, hesitant and at the same time confused. Why would he ask him that??!?!?

Roman just looked at him with the weirdest look, “To meet my partner...?” he said.

And Virgil was shaken, he flinched back and Roman just gave him one last look before walking towards the door. Virgil stared at the spot where Roman was sitting, a tight feeling in his chest. 

He had a... Partner?

What did that mean? A co-worker? A lover? A boyfriend? A girlfriend? Then what about him?? Was he just leading him on?!!?? He was consumed by rage and pushed his chair back, storming out of the cafe and ignoring the worried look Patton had. He slammed the door open and his eyes searched the street, quickly catching sight of his target across the street. He was walking, walking towards another man. A man. He saw red.

He dashed across the street, uncaring for all the stupid cars and trucks and traffic in his way. he paid no attention to the horns, he just dashed across the road like a mad bull. The man Roman was talking too looked terrified, pointing behind him and Roman turned his head to look. Virgil saw the fear in his eyes but it didn’t matter. He grabbed Roman by the collar and slammed him against the wall.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!?!?? AM I SOME KIND OF PLAY THING TO YOU???? SOME BOY TOY?!?? YOU LEAD ME ON AND NOW YOU ACT LIKE I’M SOME PEBBLE ON THE ROAD SIDE?!!?!??? HOW DARE YOU YOU SON OF A B-” He was cut off by a sudden wave of sadness that hit him like a tidal wave. 

Choking back a sob didn’t work for as long as he thought he could manage. He didn’t care, it hurt. It hurt so much...... Was this what it was like to love someone? The thought struck him and he quietly mulled it over as he cried. That.... That was it, wasn’t it? He didn’t want to admit that he fell so soon, he didn’t want to be some easy target. Hell, he rejected Roman’s dinner requests a hundred times by now because he didn’t know how he felt.......

So. This was love, huh.

He slid down and fell to his knees, his jacket having had slide down his shoulders and exposing how much he trembled. He was angry, and now he was sad... Sad and disappointed in Roman for not trying longer. But more than that, disappointed and upset in himself for denying his emotions and not grabbing the chance sooner. He felt warm arms wrap around him and he was surprised to find Roman hugging him tightly. He felt so safe in his arms that he cried more, hiccuping and gripping onto Roman’s shirt tightly as he did. Was it wrong to do this right in front of his boyfriend? It probably was but Virgil couldn’t stop himself.

Roman slowly petted and stroked his head, comforting Virgil with hushed whispers and coos. It felt so nice and calming that Virgil just poured his eyes out, taking in every feeling he could in that moment. It took a while but he managed to recompose himself, destroyed eye shadow and red nose aside. He looked up at Roman and he found it odd that Roman was smiling from ear to ear.

“..... Why are you smiling like that?” he asked hesitantly.

Roman seemed to just realize how much he was smiling and blushed as he covered it up. “Well.... I mean, this is the first time I’ve seen you chase after me than I after you, storm cloud.”

He blinks. So it was. “But it still doesn’t explain your dumb look, you big dork.” he retorted and Roman just grinned. A twinkle in his eye.

“Well, considering you were mad enough that you came after me.... Could I assume you feel the same way that I feel about you?”

He blinked. Once. Twice. Then once it registered he just flushed from head to toe and quickly covered his face with his hoodie, pulling the strings tight so the hoodie closed. “Y-you... Jerk!”

Roman just laughed as he shook his head, trying to coax him out from his jacket as he lifted him up, drawing a squeak of surprise from the emo.

“That wasn’t a no.” He said cheekily.

And Virgil was quiet for a few seconds, before responding. “It wasn’t. But.. What about your ‘partner’?”

Roman blinked and looked over to the intellect, the man next to him who had been silently observing the entire time just raising a brow. Looking back at Virgil, Roman grinned. 

“Yeah, he’s my partner. Partner in crime that is.” Roman said with a smile of triumph.

“.... Say what now?” 

Virgil was dumbfounded, but his expression turned into one of a mix of annoyance and embarrassment as he found himself carried back to the cafe by none other than Roman as he explained how he had confided in Logan, the intellect who Roman had walked up to, who also happened to be his friend by chance and another one of the cafe’s regulars, and had then hatched a plan to uncover Virgil’s feelings with Logan’s advice.

Virgil found himself utterly and undeniably exposed and defeated, pouting and sulking while Roman tried his best to comfort and get him to stop. Arriving back at his seat, Roman put Virgil down and grinned as the emo looked at him in annoyance. That, to Roman at least, was the most adorable thing. Alas, he needed to leave as he needed to attend to other matters for the day.

“So... I guess I’ll see you around next time?” Roman asked, a bit afraid his crush would go back to treating him how he used to. 

There was silence for a while as Virgil stared at him with his beautiful black eyes. His lovely voice then snapped Roman out of his daze and confused him. 

“Virgil.”

“What?”

The emo sighed, “My name is Virgil. Virgil Tempest. And you owe me dinner.”

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

Prologue, Ch 1 - [Next]

[john-wickening]

Worn Down

AN: OKAY! We’re back! I originally wrote this fic last night when I was having a bad depression day. So you can only imagine how I felt when Tumblr.hell decided completely delete my only copy... Bro I was straight up pissed. But fear not! I rewrote this from memory in like two hours (while feeling better today, hurray!), and I actually think it came out better the second time! (so SUCK IT, Tumblr/my depression!)

So here it is, new and improved. 

Prompt: The reader has a depressive episode. John and his dog try to help.

Tw: depression, implied suicidal ideation

Word Count: 1814

I hadn’t realized I had sighed until the dog lifted his head to look at me.

I patted him on the head reassuringly. Didn’t want him to worry. He rested his head back down onto my thigh though his big eyes continued to look up at me. I smiled but it felt hollow.

Everything I did these days felt hollow.

I pressed my face back into the pillow and breathed in deeply. It still smelled faintly of detergent, but mostly it smelled musty. I had slept a lot in the last few days and yet I was still tired. My body felt wrong somehow, like the sleep didn’t really count. I had woken up hours ago but I couldn’t even muster up the energy to get out of bed.

I knew John would be home in a few hours and I should get dinner ready and the house tidied up, but I just couldn’t. He had texted me twice asking me how my day was going, but I couldn’t answer him. I was letting him down, I didn’t want to lie to him too.

How could I tell him that I felt so miserable, so numb, after all the sacrifices he made for me? For us?

I didn’t want to worry him either, but that required me getting out of bed and I was literally incapable of it at the moment.

I was utterly a wretched partner. I don’t deserve any of this.

I was tucked up in the bed I shared with the man who loved me, a man who understood me better than anyone else in my entire life. Our house was gorgeous. The life John and I built together, while complicated, was lovely. To top it all off, I had the sweetest, most loving little dog curled up by my side.

The fact that I could look down at his little face and still feel this way is how I knew I didn’t deserve any of it. What kind of ungrateful monster could feel anything but joy right now? How could I be so ungrateful, so lazy, so unsupportive of the people who love me?

When Meatball noticed I was staring, he perked up and his tail started wagging lazily. His big puppy dog eyes stared curiously at me.

I had no idea why, but that’s what pushed me over the edge. The damn dog.

When you’re miserable, your tears are hotter than normal. Why is that? What makes them so hot? Is it the pain?

The tears felt like molten lead as they seared paths down my cheeks. My eyes stung. Meatball crawled into my lap and licked at them as they fell down my chin. I wanted to push him away, but couldn’t find the strength, so I wrapped my arms around him and let it all go.

I cried like a child. My sobs echoed through the empty house. I thought of John and everything he had done for me, the sacrifices he had made. How perfect everything was and how much of a horrible person I was for feeling this way.

I didn’t deserve him.

After some time, Meatball started whining and I let him go, but he wouldn’t move away. I pushed him out of my lap, but he remained firmly by my side.

I couldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t keep going like this.

I threw my head back into the pillows and cried myself to sleep.

 -*-*-*-*-*

 I wasn’t sure what woke me, but I found myself drifting groggily back into consciousness. The sun shone behind the trees and I wracked my cotton-wool brain to try to remember whether it was supposed to be setting or rising.

I felt the bed next to me shift and I turned my head to look at Meatball.

He was staring intently at the ajar bedroom door, his tail stock still. I wondered what he was hearing— then I heard the car door close.

John was home. Shit.

Nothing was done. Dinner wasn’t made, the dishes from yesterday still sat unwashed in the sink, and the house was a mess. I hadn’t showered in two days and my mouth tasted foul.

I had let him down again. I had ruined everything.

The door to the garage opened and my heart sunk into my stomach. My name fell from his lips as he entered the house.

I felt my eyes start to sting again as I laid back down. My face felt tight and swollen and my eyes felt watery and puffy. I knew the second he looked at me, he would know I’d been crying.

I couldn’t face him. I was too much of a coward. Breaking down in front of the dog was bad enough, but losing it in front of John was a nightmare. I had no right to have him worry over me. I wasn’t worth it. I flipped over and buried my face into the pillow. 

He called my name again and Meatball barked from his spot next to me. Belatedly, I realized with surprise that the dog had not run to greet John and instead had stayed rooted by my side.

That confused me.

John said my name a third time and gently opened the bedroom door.

I had been with John long enough to know that pretending to be asleep was stupid. He always knew when I was awake.

“Hi, John,” I mumbled into the pillow. I heard him cross the room and the mattress sank with his weight as he sat beside me. He placed his large hand on my back.

“Sorry dinner isn’t done.” I mumbled, my guilt eating me alive. “And the dishes are dirty. And the house is a mess.  I just… couldn’t.”

All I could think was I am a terrible partner.

 His warm hand traced my spine

“That’s alright,” He said as he traced some unknown pattern into the shirt I wore—his shirt.

“I can make dinner tonight,” It was absolutely the wrong thing to say to me. My guilt quadrupled.

“You’ve had such a long day and I was too lazy to do anything. I’m so sorry, John,” my voice was full of water by the end of the sentence. I can’t believe I’d let him down like this. A beat passed and I held my breath.

I realized I didn’t know what I wanted from him— his disappointment or his silence.

He heaved a deep sigh and removed his hand from my back. My heart twisted in a sickening, painful glee. Maybe he had finally realized that I was too fucked up to deal with and was going to leave.

You don’t deserve him, a voice in my head kept repeating.

His shoes came off with a thunk, followed by the clatter of his gun as he set it on the dresser. Then came his tie, and his belt.

The bed next to me sank with his weight as he got in. Meatball huffed when John moved him aside, but relented.

I stiffened involuntarily as he reached out and pulled me against his chest.

Why was he still here? How was he not absolutely disgusted with me?

Once I was nestled against his chest, he pressed a kiss into my tangled hair. “I love you,” he murmured against my temple and it absolutely broke my heart.

The dam crumbled.

I completely broke down. I clung to the front of his shirt and cried like a child. He was muttering something into my hair, but the blood rushing in my ears and the sound of his heartbeat under my cheek drowned it out.

We stayed like that for a long time, long enough for the room to get dark. Eventually, I just ran out of tears. We laid there for a little longer as I tried to reconcile how empty I felt.

As I pulled away slightly, I realized with horror that the front of his very expensive shirt was coated in my tears and snot. A zip of guilt shot through me.

“I’m so sorry about your shirt,” I croaked out as I wiped my eyes. His calloused hand reached up and cupped my cheek. His thumb swiped away an errant tear.

“This is the least disgusting thing on it, probably,” he deadpanned and I couldn’t help the watery chuckle that escaped my lips. He met my eyes and pressed a chaste kiss to my lips.

“Have you eaten today?” He asked when he pulled away. I couldn’t get my throat to work so I shook my head.

“I’ll make dinner.” His voice was soft but firm. “Come with me. You can rest on the couch while I cook.”

I was too tired and worn down to argue with him, so I nodded.

He got up. I sat up to follow him out of the room but was shocked when he stooped down and picked me up. He was actually going to carry me to the couch?

I was possibly the worst, least supportive partner in the entire world, and he was treating me like this anyway? It didn’t make any sense.

“John—,” I started to ask, but the words died in my throat when his deep brown eyes met mine. A strand of his hair had fallen into his face and was just barely skimming a fresh cut. Dark shadows rimmed his eyes and a faint bruise was just starting to blossom at his temple. Despite his clear exhaustion, his eyes were infinitely warm and clear and fixated on my own. I felt like I was looking at the sunset for the first time. He was absolutely breathtaking.

The corners of his lips quirked at what must have been my dumbstruck expression.

“Yes?” He asked. I suddenly felt ashamed at what I was about to say. My eyes dropped to his chest.

“I’m sorry I’m like this.” He frowned at me.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” I didn’t quite believe him, but I did feel a little bit lighter anyways.

“You don’t… have to put up with this. You don’t deserve this.” I mumbled into his chest as I worried at the top buttons of his shirt.

He shushed me and pressed a kiss to the top of my head.

When we reached the living room, he gently lowered me to the couch. He grabbed my favorite blanket and draped it over my legs.

He knelt down beside the couch and grabbed my hand and squeezed it. I squeezed back.

“We’re going to get through this.” He said, and pressed a kiss to my hand. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

I still felt hollow, but I believed him. If he could make this effort, maybe there was something to hope for.

“I love you, John” I said simply. His smile crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“I love you too.”