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honeytea8 · 4 years

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✨✨La Squadra Boyfriend Headcanons✨✨

[Alexa, play Boyfriend by Big Time Rush]

Guys, I spend an ungodly amount of time thinking about La Squadra, so here are some bf headcanons for the sexiest group of assassins in Naples. No one asked but I am bringing it straight to your dash anyway! (under the cut for length lmao)

I’m going to start with Prosciutto, who has recently fallen on my radar pretty heavy!

He’s a good and decent boyfriend, if not a busy one. Not that he doesn’t care about the relationship, but most of his energy was going to Passione things before you waltzed in and so he’ll struggle a bit between his work responsibilities and maintaining his relationship with you, but only in the beginning.

If you are also a part of Passione, it’s a hell of a lot easier to manage.

I see Prosciutto as the gift-giving type: lingerie, sweets, perfume, designers, etc. His salary isn’t the best, but he manages it as well as he can just to accommodate you!

I just can’t get the idea out of my head that Pro was raised by a strict mama, that’s why he can be a bit of a stickler sometimes. He’ll catch you still lounging in bed at nine am, and be like “Why are you still in bed? Get dressed, we’re going out.” Dude!

I’m sorry to say, but Prosciutto is absolutely the ‘lecturing’ type. (He lectured someone in nearly every scene in the anime, Formaggio once and Pesci numerously and Bucci too)

He will lecture you when you make mistakes, especially because as his s/o, he has high expectations for you and believes you’re capable of so much more. It’s never, ever out of hate. He loves you, and that’s why he chides you a bit lol.

This does not negate the fact that he doesn't mind when you lean on him for support. He likes when you count on him, because he always comes through especially for you!

Depending on whether you’re in the mafia or not, I totally see him sparring with you, or working out with you in an effort to make you tough. Prosciutto wants you to be able to defend yourself, just in case. If you complain, he’ll tell you, “Better safe than sorry, tesoro”.

Prosciutto will respect you, period.

A good listener, goddamn! He’s up there with Risotto when it comes to who listens to their s/o more! If you have an issue, he’ll hear you out and offer advice if you want it. If you give him advice, he’ll take it into serious consideration. He’s honestly a good partner, can’t stress that enough.

Finally, sex with Pro is an entire event. Romantic dinner, candles lit, wine, the whole nine yards before he gives you nine inches of something else :) (I’m kidding!! Lmao, kinda).

But as I said, Prosciutto is quite deliberate, and a bit of a perfectionist. He knows what to do and how to do it, you can trust him.

Ghiaccio is next only because he’s my favorite.

The ice gremlin is probably the most interesting (and hilarious) boyfriend out of the bunch (I say this with only a tidbit of bias). He isn’t funny himself, but funny shit just happens to him.

Because of this, he will use you as a soundboard when everyone else refuses to listen to him. He’s got a lot to say, so be prepared for his TEDtalks. LMAO!

It will take some perception on your part to notice when he actually expects a response from you, and other times he’s just ranting to get his point out.

He will correct your grammar when you text, but barely notices when he makes a similar mistake (his brain moves in mph). Please use the proper names like Venezia, Italia, Roma and Napoli when talking to this man; save yourself from the headache.

When it comes to dates, please have mercy on him, he’s a textbook over-thinker! You’ll just have to plan something simple at home for you both to enjoy.

He isn’t incapable of planning dates, but he’ll want everything to be so absolutely perfect for his s/o and will throw a fit when it ultimately isn’t.

Contrary to popular belief, I think that Ghiaccio is a pretty attentive partner. He’s super intelligent and I think a part of it stems from his innate ability to read people (I’m referencing the part in the anime where he deduced what Giorno and Mista had come to look for, while going off very little information).

The more time he spends with you, the better he gets at it.

His form of affection will be shown through the amount of time you both spend together. When it comes to sex or anything related to that, be gentle and slow as Ghiaccio will likely be a flustered mess.

As he becomes more comfortable and confident, he will be bolder and just ask out right if you’ll suck him off tonight or not. The man appreciates directness, so don’t bother being coy. “You want me to give you head? Cool, lay down a towel or something.” is what he’ll probably say.

Very practical 👌🏾👌🏾

Melone, good lord, he’s kind of perfect.

A bit of a doting boyfriend here and there—very much concerned about your health. Expect him to ask if you’ve eaten, or taken your multivitamin. How are your bowel movements? LMAO

It can become a bit much, but he really genuinely cares. He’s not asking to be intrusive or nasty! If he was, you’d know. 🤣

But I seriously consider Melone to be the one (at least among La Squadra) who is way, way invested in his relationships. He will know every little detail about you; will ask you lots of questions and expects you to ask him just as many.

This may be annoying to some, but this dude will definitely bring up your horoscope in an argument. He’ll be like “I honestly can’t fathom why you’re being this way, though it’s to be expected from a libra.”

Peg this bitch so he can shut up.

Melone is also touchy as hell, but not in a clingy way. He loves touching, and just to tag onto the headcanon about his partial blindness, I want to say that he’s so touchy because that’s how he ‘sees’ you best.

Just know that half the time, he isn’t touching you to be lecherous, even if he genuinely does like the feel of your skin under his fingertips. Melone will even encourage you to touch him back.

Rub his thigh or back and he’ll be simping.

He is obsessed with your legs, and will paint your toes if you let him.

LOVES PDA! Melone will also tongue-kiss you in public if you let him!

Notice how I keep saying ‘if you let him’. Give him an inch and he’ll press you for a mile, so if there are boundaries you would like to establish, please do, cuz he sure as hell won’t, just saying!

When it comes to sex, Melone is a dick and coochie sensei. Oral is his favorite thing to do, probably enjoys giving more than receiving to be honest. I’d say he’s pretty much mastered sex for what it is.

That being said, if he’s ever talking out of his neck, just invite him to put his mouth to better use. He’ll even thank you for your gracious request.

Formaggio is next 💀

According to my JoJo compatriots from discord, he’s like the Optimus Prime of fuckboi’s so let’s ride that wave for a bit! LMAO

I hope it doesn’t come as a surprise that Formaggio is pretty shameless. He will send you a dick pic on Sunday morning before church and have the audacity to say “Just wanted to bless you real quick”.

@autumn-kouhai mentioned him giving his s/o sickly sweet pet names and I just have to agree.

Expect to be hit upside the head with: baby-boo, sugar plum, honey bunches, sweetums. I can imagine them becoming really ridiculous too like “the last piece of red velvet cake” or “cheddar bae biscuits from Red Lobster”

His catch phrase is “Got nudes?”

Send them, and he won’t be afraid to reply with something equally sexy.

Be warned though, he will stockpile whatever you send him and then be careless with his phone. If you don’t mind Illuso’s snoopy ass seeing your nudes then by all means, have at it. Otherwise, send them through snapchat, so they disappear later.

As far as La Squadra boyfriends go, he’s the most fun! Y’all don’t even go anywhere because man’s is broke. BUT, Formaggio knows how to have a good time without any need to spend money (my kind of dude tbh) you guys just crank up the tunes, dance, and get lit until the neighbors complain.

Formi is also the CEO of jokes/memes, and will have you in absolute tears almost always! I literally tell my friends that funny guys are so dangerous, don’t sleep on them! They will make you laugh until your panties drop, it’s magic, I swear. Formaggio has that same energy.

No matter how bad of a day his s/o is having, rest assured, he will draw the biggest laugh out of you.

Besides his fuckboi tendencies, his most redeeming quality is the fact that he’s super cool and fun to hang with. You’ll literally have a good time, always, because his energy is right! Very good vibes around this man, I swear! It’ll be exactly like dating your best friend, because essentially, he will be your bestie.

Formi has many moments of tenderness that aren’t sexually charged too—moments where the jokes stop and he’ll just rub your back or feet, this is usually when you aren’t feeling well and need some quiet.

However, Formaggio won’t let you mope all day, he’ll pull out the big guns and call you his “sweetie baby” and when you try to resist he’ll say “What, I’m just tryna show you some love.”

He’s a good dude lmao I’d date a guy like him irl 😭

Pesci stans wya??! Let’s get into this baby boy.

Pesci is boyfriend material, idgaf what anyone says.

He is pretty much the least problematic to be with among all of La Squadra, even more so than Risotto (don’t argue with me).

Pesci is hyper aware of your likes and dislikes and will literally go out of his way to make sure that you’re well and okay.

Arguments are basically nonexistent and if they occur it ain’t coming from his side.

I also think that Pesci has a lot of empathy, so when you’re going through something, he’s right there in the thick of it with you. If you’ve seen that meme that goes ‘when my gf is on her period it’s UterUS’ lmao that’s Pesci’s energy 100%.

Sometimes, he’s more of a lover and not a fight, that is perfectly okay!

However, if someone tries up his s/o, say farewell to Mr. Niceguy. He will defend your honor to his dying breath. And with you in his corner, trust me, he’s not going down.

A romantic at heart, Pesci will plan little date trips like picnics in the park or boat trips to Capri, actually, I’d like to point out that he excels in the art of date planning. If you’re the adventurous type, he’ll plan outings where you both will be more active, like biking through the city or renting a mop-ed and going sight-seeing.

Because Pesci has a sensitive stomach, he’s very much considerate of what you both put in your bodies. If you have dietary restrictions or allergies, this guy knows all about it and will cater to you perfectly.

A true gentleman through and through, he will never force himself on you, ever. In fact, he really doesn’t like engaging in anything sexual when you’re drunk or high, sorry if you’re into that!

Pesci is the kind of guy who keeps up with your favorite shows.

If ya’ll have similar taste in media or literature, he will immerse himself in it so that he can relate to you all the more.

If there’s anyone who will entertain anime-related discourse, no matter how nonsensical, it’s Pesci. And he isn’t just putting up with it, he’s actively engaging in the conversation so you are always heard and validated.

He’s an A+ boyfriend, that’s all I gotta say! Haters can stay mad :)

Goddamn Illuso... idk man.

I really feel like you have to have thick/tough skin to handle this guy, for various reasons.

The first being that Illuso can be a bit mean at first. He’ll push your buttons on purpose just to see what’ll make you tick. Will tease the living heck out of you, always, kind of a bully lmao but not to the extreme, it’s just his brand of humor—and the thing is, he won’t be mad when you dish it right back, so it’s cool.

Secondly, Illuso has big dick energy!!

I mean rightfully so, because he is indeed packing! But my word, he ain’t humble about it at all!

He is not above making jokes about ‘splitting you in half’. In fact all of his jokes have hidden, dirty undertones!

His affection is shown through speech mostly. Illuso will drop subtle innuendos and provocations, half to see you flustered and half because he wants you to know how much he wants you.

Illuso isn’t incredibly vocal about his feelings outside of ‘I’m tryna hit that thang’ but you won’t doubt that he loves you because Illuso doesn’t waste his own time.

If he’s spending his time with you, you can rest assured that it’s because he wants to.

Illuso is a voyeur and you’ll just have to understand/accept that and move on.

He loves watching you and will even creep over to your place through the mirror world just to hang or watch you do chores. Loves to surprise you and give you jump scares lmao it’ll make you a tad paranoid but it’s also fun.

Illuso is prone to random bouts of sweetness; it’s very sporadic, very touch-and-go.

One day, you’ll wake up to chocolates on your dresser or new shoes, lingerie, or makeup if you wear it. I imagine that if you’re low on funds, he will even help you buy your groceries that week.

It’ll surprise the hell out of you, but that’s just how Illuso is. He enjoys keeping you on your toes!

He’s prideful and smug as hell, so he will definitely expect a thank you, because even if he does it out of the kindness in his heart, he also wants to hear that you appreciate him

Same goes for the bedroom scene. Illuso loves making you vocal, it’s his favorite thing in the world, so he’ll make a game out of doing the things that get the biggest reaction out of you. Like I said, it's that big dick energy at work here, smh.

Sorbet and Gelato in a polyamorous relationship with you? Let’s get it!

We don’t get anything substantial about these two except that Sorbet follows the money, so these are all personal headcanons for how I see and write them.

Here’s the juice: when it comes to you as their s/o, these two are possessive as hell. You are theirs and that’s that on that! 😭 Don’t ask questions, just go with it.

Sorbet is the chill one of the duo. He can be a bit smug at times, but he’s mostly a laid back dude who doesn’t get bothered by much.

When it comes to you, Sorbet likes to spend quality time with you more than anything, and will ask you to cook for him at your place so he ain’t gotta spend money. Oh? Did I not mention that I kinda think of him as a cheapskate? Lmao cuz I do.

Sorbet will come by your place just to steal your coupons from the mail then head out; you’re not using ‘em so why should he let them go to waste?

Gelato is the complete opposite; personality wise, I headcanon him as a mix between Melone and Formaggio lmao

But it’s not as crazy as it sounds, he’s cute and outspoken like Melone, while maintaining a free-spirit like Formaggio. One quality that I like is that he’s quite devoted to you and Sorbet. If anyone crosses either of you, goodluck to them!

I like to think Gelato’s also just really boujee and high maintenance. He loves to pamper and be pampered. You and him tag-team Sorbet’s wallet and go on spa dates together at his expense (not that he ever really stood a chance)

While Sorbet is cool with just being in the same room as you, Gelato loves hugging/cuddling with you and Sorbet—will definitely fight for the middle spot between the two of you on the couch during movie nights.

He baby, so let him have it lol

In the bedroom, I would salute anyone with the guts to take the two of them on. They both lay down that work, period.

Sorbet gets his kicks from teasing and edging you (his sadistic side comes out a bit), while Gelato loves when you give him extra TLC. To put it short, they know how to take care of you, so there are no issues there.

Last but not least, Mr. Risotto Nero himself.

Man, idc on the lowest of keys, he seems a little bit like a grandpa to me

The type to sit at home and do crosswords, has a bird feeder in his yard and plays old Italian hits while washing the dishes. It’s very domestic 💀 (I find it cute, whatever!)

As a boyfriend, I can’t imagine him suddenly being spontaneous or outgoing unless you drag him out of his home/comfort zone.

Be patient with Mr. Nero, and he can come to surprise you

After a while, it won’t be just you dragging him out and about; one day he’ll ask you to come over and you’ll be greeted with a nice, traditional, homemade meal

Pay attention and you will notice him watching your face to see if you like his cooking 🥺

After seeing his fight with Doppio, I must admit that Risotto is very, very observant, almost scarily so.

I can totally picture him pointing out random things about his s/o that even they don’t know

One night, Risotto may come up to you and say “I talked to your neighbor about the dog, they’ll keep it inside now.” And you’re just staring like 😳 how did he know the barking was keeping you up at night????

He’s sweet, and will take good care of you as a boyfriend should.

Very good listener, won’t talk as much but will hang on to your every word, I promise. He could even recite it to you verbatim.

He’s a big dude, that ain’t news, so expect to be swallowed up in hugs and sometimes even picked up (as a tall girl myself, I simp!!!)

Gives A1 piggyback rides, lol

ALSO RISOTTO IS HUMBLE ASF!

Big dick energy, but on low volume 👏🏾 after all, he doesn’t need to do much talking, because a night with him is more than enough!

Listen babe, you better stretch, do some squats, and prep in whatever way you can before Mr. Nero gives you that work. 🤐

Lowkey a freak, but it’s well hidden behind his ‘quiet giant’ exterior

So, who are y'all dating? Personally, I’m going for Formaggio and Pesci hehe

#jojo #jojo’s bizarre adventure #vento aureo #la squadra #prosciutto #illuso #formaggio #melone #risotto nero #pesci #ghiaccio #gelato and sorbet #la squadra esecuzioni #la squadra di esecuzione #jojo headcanons #la squadra x reader #jojo part 5

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carryon-countdown · 3 years

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MLM/Trans Rep Issues: a conversation

Hello everyone!

As was announced to the public in this post, we’ve noticed some voices of discontent from mlm/trans people in this fandom. We’ve spent the past week talking to many mlm/trans people in this fandom, to listen to what has likely been hurting them/making them uncomfortable. Our goal here was to educate ourselves on views that we’d been overlooking and to have a conversation about how to move forward.

We’re glad to say that every person who reached out to us was very patient and informative, so now we’re able to share what we’ve learned with our followers and the rest of the fandom. What makes everything a bit more complicated, however, is that it became clear quite quickly that not every mlm/trans person experiences these issues the same way. Most people we talked to had their very own way of viewing things, and we, as admins, think that each individual view had something valuable to say. There’s not a very clear right or wrong here, so we’re going to ask everyone not to approach these issues like there’s a definitive right or wrong.

What we’re going to do instead is explain the different views, in hope that it will educate many of you who’d had a blindspot to these issues. And then it’ll be up to each individual person to self-reflect and decide what you think is important. Once again, there doesn’t seem to be a definitive right or wrong, so we think the best we can do is make sure everyone has as much information to make their own choices with.

Fetishizing

One of the main issues that was brought to our attention is the fetishisation of mlm ships (in this fandom’s case mainly snowbaz). Some people we talked to said they came across this quite a lot, others felt like it happened here and there, and others said it happened so little that they had never been able to come up with an example of this within the fandom. So that already gives everyone an idea of what we mean by people seeming to have very different experiences.

What it means to use a ship for fetishisation is that you interact with the ship in a way that is purely focussed on the “hotness”/aesthetic of the ship, instead of focussing on the actual dynamic of this ship. This turns the ship into something more like an object of your fantasies, instead of seeing it as a representation of something real.

Everyone we talked to agreed that fetisising is wrong/hurtful. There were, however, more divided opinions on where the lines lie between content that is and isn’t rooted in fetishisation. Some views are more quickly to label a piece of smut that’s just straight up porn, with a strong focus on the “sexiness” of it all, as a piece rooted in fetishisation, while others think it’s more okay to have smut like this because wanting to celebrate a ship that you love having a bit of sexy-time can definitely come from a place of loving the ship for who they are rather than a objectifying sexual fantasy standpoint.

This shows that the whole concept of judging whether a piece of fan content is fetishising the ship isn’t something that’s just black and white. Something that is easier to judge, though, is yourself and where your love for the ship/certain pieces of content comes from.

We do thus strongly encourage you to take a look at yourself and the way you interact with the ships and content in this fandom. It’s good to ask yourself what your intentions are when creating/sharing any content relating to these ships, and to question whether you might be fetishising. We hope everyone will refrain from engaging with this ship from a fetisising standpoint. It’s often not something that happens to intent harm, but it is something that makes people who are actually represented within the ship highly uncomfortable and upset. It’s not a form of support to any sexuality/type of relationship that might be represented in the ship.

(Note: please don’t instantly write off the idea that you might be fetishising because you, for example, aren’t even attracted to men, because that doesn’t necessarily mean you can’t look at a mlm ship in an objectifying way. Please, just, absolutely everyone, take an honest look at your view towards the ships in this fandom, and try to see if there’s instances where you are fetishising these ships.)

Genderbending

Genderbending/genderswap was the other main topic of the conversations we’ve had with mlm/trans people. Genderbending is simply put: changing the genders from one or more of the characters present in your work, to a gender that’s not their canon gender. In our fandom we mostly see this trope used on snowbaz, thus having them become fem!snowbaz.

A big critique for genderbending is that, very often, with genderbending the appearance/physical features of the character is what changes, and thus “that changes the gender”, which is a way of viewing gender that completely excludes the experience of trans/nb people. In the case of snowbaz, this means that Simon and Baz remain the same, but suddenly they have boobs and more feminine features, so that must mean they’re now women. While really, if you want to represent snowbaz with more feminine features, it doesn’t instantly have to mean that they’re now women, and being a woman doesn’t mean you need any kind of feminine features. It basically treats sex and gender the same, when they’re not. Genderbending also often treats gender like it’s binary, which it isn’t. For a bunch of the trans people we talked to, this is something that they consider quite harmful, not only to themselves but also to the way it inspires you to look at the concept of gender.

Besides that, there are times where genderbending gets used to explore a certain concept, such as: having one of the characters able to become pregnant, when really you can also avoid using genderbending here by using a trans headcanon/au for such a thing. The idea that the only way for you to explore these concepts with a mlm ship is having them turn into cis women comes across as both excluding the mlm and trans experience. So there are trans people who prefer if you use a trans au or trans headcanon instead of genderbending in these cases (here it is also preferred that you then have a trans person look at your work before you post it!). With this we do also want to note that not necessarily everyone trans person we spoke to experience trans au/hcs as something positive, and actually actively avoid them.

Now that we’ve spoken about the views against genderbending, there are still other trans people we talked to who don’t have an issue with genderbending. Their views on it with snowbaz are that when you have a ship that canonically consists of two cis men, it makes sense that people would have them be cis women when applying genderbending. (Also, not always everyone makes them cis women when doing a genderbend). The people that didn’t see an issue with genderbending generally came from the standpoint that people’s intentions behind genderbending are completely innocent and not done with the thought in mind that sex=gender, and that is enough for them to not feel hurt by it.

A thing that was also brought up here is that genderbending in this fandom is often used by wlw people to find a way to represent/express themselves in a fandom they love. The people who are in favor of genderbending see this as a very valid reason to keep genderbending around. If it has a positive influence on someone, and isn’t done with the idea in mind that sex and gender are the same, they don’t see why genderbending should be seen as a bad thing.

With this we also want to note that not all wlw are the biggest fan of genderbending. There’s definitely plenty that use fem!snowbaz as a way to see themselves represented, and for them it’s a very positive thing. There are, however, also wlw around who’ve spoken up against it. They see turning a mlm into a wlw ship by genderbending as a very objectifying way to look at a wlw couple. They don’t consider a mlm that now looks like wlw actual wlw representation. They often feel like it comes across very feishising and it makes them uncomfortable. So saying that it’s something positive for all wlw in this fandom is definitely an incorrect way of looking at it, but it is still also a positive thing for quite a number of them.

This shows how polarising the concept of genderbending is, and it’s really not in our interest to tell you what side to pick. We hope that you take in these views and use them to educate yourself on the topic. We hope you put in the effort to understand the different takes on it and then decide where you land. We want to at least make sure that your decisions around genderbending don’t come from a place of ignorance.

We also want to ask everyone to always tag genderbending if you do decide to post anything with genderbending. This way the people who are really hurt by it can at least avoid having to see it by blacklisting it.

This about sums up what we’ve been talking about with the people who reached out to us. We really hope everyone will use this to open their minds to different views on these topics. Since everyone's opinions on these topics seem influenced by personal views and experiences, we really cannot ask you to decide for others what’s right and wrong, and so we ask you to reflect on yourself and your own views instead.

We really want to thank @nonbaznary, @krisrix and others who will remain anonymous for taking part in this conversation! You were all super helpful and patient!

Both @nonbaznary and @krisrix told us that they were open to talk to people who still have questions surrounding these topics. Both of them represent different views, and thus will be able to give you different answers. (Please, if you decide to contact them, be kind to them and actually make an effort to listen to them. They’ve been nothing but helpful in all of this. Treat them well, this is something that can take a lot of energy out of a person)

@nonbaznary also mentioned that if anyone is ever looking for a trans person to look at your work before you post it, they’d be open to doing that for you, so you can contact them for that as well.

We hope that the actions that were taken here will help everyone feel a little more at home in this fandom, even though the solution is such a vague one.

Much love, The admins of the Carry On Countdown of 2020

#carry on countdown #coc 2020 #carry on #carry on fandom #simon snow series #snowbaz #discourse

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stutterfly · 5 years

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Swipe Right 01 | Context Switch | JJK (M)

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader, brot7 x friendship

Genre: E2L, fluff, angst [later on], humor, [eventual] smut, PersonalTrainer!Jungkook, fuckboy!Jungkook, Nerd!Jungkook, Nerd/IT!Reader

Word Count: 12.8K

Fic Summary: Jungkook wasn’t always like this. Or maybe he was and you don’t want to admit that he had you fooled. You quickly discover he has a lot more to offer than exchanging pleasantries and awkward small talk. In fact, he never seems to shut up.

For the better part of a year, he’s held your irritation hostage, never passing up an opportunity to deliver savage one-liners at your expense. When he discovers you’re on Tinder, he turns up the brattiness factor and intentionally seeks you out. Who knows? Maybe if you gave him a chance he could charm the pants right off of you. Then again, maybe he’s just a fuckboy.

Tags: Fuckboy Jungkook, like cannot stress enough Fuckboy Jungkook but gets soft later, dirty jokes, talk nerdy to me, PUNS, friendship feels, sexual tension, Jin being bad at copying Mario’s accent, Namjoon being bad at accents

CW: panic attacks, filthy language, this whole chapter is setup so like nothing too bad i dont think???

Series: Activate your SIMCard Fic: Swipe Right (1/?- Ongoing) Do not repost. masterlist // next chapter

(A/N: This is part of my “Activate Your SIMcard” series. Each member of BTS has their own AU in which IT/TechSupport/NerdReader gets dating help/advice and ends up falling in love with them instead. As with a dating sim, the same characters are utilized--same professions, similar scenario placement-- but different interactions/pathways lead to different romances. ~Anyway here’s the Jungkook route.~ The Namjoon route, “Love Bytes” is currently in the works.)

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Nerves wrack your stomach as you make your way down the hall, clinging to the man beside you. His strides seem gigantic next to yours and you find yourself struggling to keep up with him. “Stop walking so fast, Namjoon.”

The man laughs, but slows his pace just enough to allow you to walk side-by-side. “Sorry. I’m just excited for you to meet them.”

Digging your fingernails into the flesh of his elbow, you swallow hard. It’s been a couple months since the young English professor stumbled into your life holding the pieces of some very expensive, very shattered college property. State of the art technology, brand new, busted in less than a week of his arrival. He’d get the biggest chew-out of his life if he presented it to your boss, and you were too sympathetic to let that happen.

While you’d willingly paid for the whole thing out of pocket to cover for the newbie, it had definitely put a strain on your finances and what little social life you had. Within a week he’d worked up a repayment plan than spanned the course of a year. He even started buying you a coffee every Friday as an apology for how long it was going to take.

After a few months of bonding over kung-fu movies, life before Namjoon’s friendship seemed like a distant past, a hazy dream. It was natural that your new bestie wanted to grow your pitiful social circle. But there was a reason you didn’t let people get close to you. The fact that Namjoon had slipped past your defenses so fast made him an anomaly worth dissecting for scientific discovery.

Just the thought of having to now socialize with people you don’t know has your temperature boiling and your head spinning.

He attempts to tug his elbow away from you, and you stumble forward, keeping your death grip on him. “I know, but talking to people isn’t exactly my strong suit. Are you sure it’s best I meet all six at once?”

“You’ve already met Jimin,” he begins, clawing at your hand with long, veiny fingers until you release your hold on him, “but he’s not coming tonight, so don’t worry... you can relax a little.”

Your face twists into a sour grimace as you try to sputter out a response. “I-Pfft. I mean. Jimin’s a model. His face is on billboards and shit. Like… how is that supposed to not be intimidating?”

“Jimin is the world’s biggest sweetheart,” he laughs, shoving his hands into his pockets as you continue down the hallway. “You don’t have anything to be afraid of. I have a feeling you two will get along fine once you stop being so shy.”

You huff and tick your jaw a few times before wringing your hands together. Maybe.

“Anyway. Taehyung is out of town on business, but you can meet him another time. He’s kind of quiet when meeting new people too. Hoseok and Yoongi texted they might be a little late. It’ll just be Jin and Jungkook you’re meeting now. And it’ll be just the four of us for a bit.”

A deep breath escapes you as you hook your elbow with his. “Okay. I just… I’m nervous.”

He stops at the door at the end of the hall and looks down at you. “Give them a chance. If you’re still feeling bad in an hour, then we’ll leave, and I’ll hang out with y’all separately from now on. Deal?”

You eye his extended palm peeking out from beneath the crook of your twined elbows before a smile creeps across your face. You shake his hand. He always knows what to say. “Deal.”

As Namjoon knocks, you leave the comfort of his side, realizing how your anxious clinging might be mistaken for a romantic gesture. You begin to shrink back, trying to hide in his shadow before the door opens. You’re about halfway there when a young, well-built man appears, prominent leg muscles bulging from beneath his basketball shorts as he props the door open with his foot. There’s a cup of instant noodles in his hands, and you’re pretty sure at least half of its contents are dangling from his mouth.

The scent of garlic and rosemary drifts into your nostrils, and you freeze as you cower behind Namjoon, realizing how long it’s been since you last had a decent home-cooked meal. You were promised free food so maybe it won't be so bad after all.

“Ah, Namjoon,” he greets and gestures with his head towards the domicile. “Come in--Oh!”

He chokes a chunk of noodles back into the paper cup as he notices your figure standing behind the tall man.

“Jungkook, this is Y/N,” Namjoon says, stepping to the side and pushing you out into the light of the apartment “I told you she was coming tonight, remember?”

Jungkook’s dark brown eyes widen and he pumps a fist into his chest a few times as he tries to get the remnants of spicy noodles dislodged from the back of his throat. Namjoon sent a bunch of texts this week making sure it was cool to bring someone to hangout night since he’d made a friend at work and wanted everyone to meet them. The way the texts were worded definitely didn’t give any indication that the friend he was bringing tonight was a woman. Maybe they did. Maybe he should have read more of them.

The muscular man before you holds the remaining food in his cheeks and waves bashfully with two fingers as he swallows. "Jungkook," he mumbles, as if the name itself is introduction enough and all but sprints from the room.

Seconds later, a new voice shrieks out from the other room. “What are you doing eating that?! Dinner will be ready soon! Jungkookie if you don’t put that down--!”

A dull smacking sound accompanies the clattering of silverware and plates. You swallow hard, trying to think about anything other than the way the young man had rushed out of the room at just the sight of you. Maybe you’re just that ugly.

“Hey! I’ll eat! I’ll eat! I promise!” Jungkook cries out. His voice drops an octave. “Namjoon is here.” Their conversation becomes indiscernible, but you can’t shake the feeling that you are definitely the subject of their quiet discussion.

You throw a worried glance in Namjoon's direction. "Did I do something wrong?" your voice is hushed as you work your sneakers off, trying to hold in the crazy amount of anxiety that threatens to unscrew the top of your head and send your brain exploding into the ceiling.

Namjoon shakes his head, unbothered by his friend’s odd behavior. "Honestly, I texted him a bunch this week to make sure it was cool and I got one-word replies so I'm wondering if he even read them." He bites his lip and spares a glance back at you, knowing he probably should have kept that to himself.

"Oh," your heart sinks into your stomach and threatens to fall out your butt as you straighten your spine. "If that's the case, should I... leave?"

"Leaf?!" A bright green piece of lettuce is thrust into your face. "How about a whole salad? You can't go before you try it! It's unbe-leaf-able."

You blink in rapid succession, trying to stifle a laugh at the cackle emanating from the man whose bony fingers are holding the lettuce. It sounds like a... windshield wiper? A giggle slips out, stronger than your will to keep it tucked behind your lips, and it only seems to make the grin on his face stretch impossibly wider. Heavy shoulders rise and fall with his laughter, causing the bright pink apron across his chest to wrinkle.

Namjoon groans. "This is--"

"Now do you smell that delicious flavor in the air? Because this just a taste of what you will find at my amazing restaurant 'Heart and Seoul'," he announces, cutting off the man beside you as he clutches the lettuce to his chest with eyes closed. "Where I give you a piece of my heart and soul... Some refer to me as Worldwide Handsome, others call me the God of Cookery. Some call me an angel and believe I fell from heaven." He bows with a flourish and takes your hand in his. "But you can call me..." He finally looks at you, a dark smoulder in his features that sets your cheeks on fire. "Later?"

He seals your fate with a gentle kiss to the back of your hand. Your jaw, which has been hanging open for some time, finally decides to snap itself shut.

"This is Seokjin, and he's going back into the kitchen to finish making dinner." Namjoon is already ushering his friend back towards the kitchen and chiding him as you purse your lips together to hide the smile spreading across your face. Did you just stumble into some alternate universe where all of the men you meet are ridiculously good-looking?

"It's nice to meet you, Seokjin," you call after them before letting your eyes wander around the room.

Paintings line the walls and photos sit on the bookshelf in the corner. As you approach the shelf to get a closer look, you realize those aren't books, but video games. There must be hundreds. Don't people use cloud storage for most of their games now? Your eyes curiously scan the photos on the top shelf. The man who had introduced himself as Jungkook is in all of them. There's another man in a couple that you don't recognize, but his gaze is piercing and cold when he's not smiling. You're able to pick Jimin and Namjoon out in a few, but it feels like looking at a family photo. Everyone seems so close; it makes you envious.

You lick your lips and can't help but admire the collection of video games underneath. You crouch to get a better look at the ones lining the bottom shelf. You're surprised to see there are games for all types of consoles: PS4, XboxOne, Switch, WiiU, Nintendo DS, SuperNintendo, PlaystationVita, PC... The list keeps going. Jealousy spikes your gut as you note a Mass Effect "SSV Normandy" ship figurine on the shelf above your head. You eye it with wonder and pride as your memories flood with the hours you spent playing the trilogy. Your fingers reach out to brush against the raised letters on the side of the ship.

"Have you played Mass Effect?" a quiet voice asks from behind you.

You jump in place and spin on the balls of your feet in a fluid motion that nearly sends you careening into the basketball shorts in front of you. Surprised by how close Jungkook is standing, you gasp and stumble back into the bookshelf, causing it to wobble and bring some of the frames filled with photos tumbling down onto your head. You wait for the impact but it never comes.

As you look up, Jungkook has several frames balanced on his arms and between his fingers, carefully maneuvering them away from you and back onto the shelf. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you! Namjoon told me you liked video games too and I saw you looking at the Normandy and I thought maybe you've played it. Ah, I'm sorry."

It's hard to miss the crestfallen way he rubs the back of his neck and stares at the floor once he places all the photos back on the shelf. You're still in shock that he caught everything before it smacked you in the head, but you force yourself to respond anyway. "No, it's okay. I'm just a jumpy person. It's my fault. I'm just glad I didn't break anything. I'm... asari? Get it? 'Cause like, I'm sorry... but also hot blue alien chicks, am I right?"

He smiles wide and laughs softly as he offers to help you up. As you take hold of his hand, you're quickly thrust to your feet with an ease you weren’t quite expecting. You steady yourself by reaching out to grip his arm, a movement you reverse the moment you feel the firm muscles beneath his t-shirt.

"Thanks," you mumble. Feeling his hand tense around yours, you take it back and twiddle your fingers. "So what decisions did you make? Renegade or Paragon? Rachni Queen? Samara's mission? Quarian and Geth dispute? Genophage?" You pause only to take a breath. "If you let Wrex die, we can't be friends."

He blinks at you a few times before breaking into a relaxed smile. “Of course not. What kind of monster do you think I am?”

You allow a relieved sigh to pass your lips. Maybe this wouldn’t be so painful after all.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You must have made a good impression that night. It’s been nearly a month and Namjoon’s friends have started pulling you into their group texts and Saturday night plans. This had been fine by you since you rarely had anything going on. Honestly it was kind of nice to be included.

While you still don’t exactly know everyone, you feel fairly comfortable talking with your new friends. Seokjin is absolutely hilarious. He’s so full of himself that his cockiness rides the line between charming and annoying; it’s hard to decide which aspect overwhelms his personality more. But you know that you find him irrefutably, irritatingly attractive because of it.

Jungkook is still polite and rather gentlemanly towards you. Your conversation about Mass Effect was enough to tide over any residual awkwardness regarding your initial meeting. He’s just a muscular, nerdy introvert who seems genuinely nice. However, Namjoon insists that Jungkook is still hiding a louder, brattier side when you’re around. He’s got this theory that since you’re a friend of a friend, Jungkook is holding back his usual antics for some reason. The harmless little crush you’ve developed on him has you secretly holding out hope that it’s because he wants to ask you to be his girlfriend. You’ve considered asking Jin what he thinks, but that man has no tact and honestly you’re afraid he’d just ask Jungkook with you standing right there.

Hoseok is a ball of smiling energy, one who has been begging you to visit his dance studio. It’s hard to say no, but you’ve managed for this long because of the very real possibility that you won’t be able to do anything but stare at the dazzling way he moves. He seems to take pride in his ability to make others feel good and absolutely beams when he’s the cause of his friends’ happiness. You can easily see yourself talking to him without Namjoon around to act as a buffer, which is amazing for someone with your level of social anxiety.

Yoongi is quiet, but when he speaks his words are sharp with purpose. Some people might mistake that for coldness, but you can tell he has good intentions and a soft heart underneath. His pointed remarks in the group interrogations have poked fun at you, but never in a condescending or cruel manner. And it’s certainly not in the way you see him absolutely roast the others. Maybe he’s taking it easy on you.

Jimin is still so beautiful to look at it devastates you, leaving a flustered, stuttering mess behind every time he leaves. Now that he’s become aware of the effect he has on you, he’s been testing the waters of your friendship with some teasing that borderlines flirtation. But you have a feeling he’s just screwing with you because he finds it funny to see you squirm. You’re hoping to build the confidence to dish it back some day.

Taehyung has been a little standoff-ish, but Namjoon had already warned you about that. You wonder if it’s because he’s a hundred times richer than you’ll ever be. Despite seeming like he’s in a different social class, he still seems deeply fond of his friends, and relatively down-to-earth. He’s a bit quirky, but he’s an artist, so you expect that kind of thing.

Namjoon says that he’s known almost all of them since college, so he’s been able to absorb most of the discomfort associated with meeting new people. He’s sweet, and more relatable than you originally would have thought for an English professor. He’s kind of like a pillar that you never knew your life had been missing. And now that he’s got your back, you can’t go back.

The smell of coffee pervades the air as you skim an article on your phone regarding the latest Halloween skins for Overwatch. You’re supposed to be meeting Namjoon here but Seokjin, and Jimin showed up and have been chatting about their plans for the weekend. Apparently they throw a Halloween party every year and it’s Jimin’s turn to host. Seokjin is supposedly in charge of planning the decorations due to his love for theatrics and has been discussing the possibility of a haunted house walkthrough. You smile at the thought of Seokjin popping out of the shadows to drop fake spiderwebs on people. It sounds like the kind of thing he’d get off to.

Namjoon flops down on the couch next to you. “You’re coming, right?”

You’re broken from your thoughts as you scroll further down the page. “E-Excuse me?”

“The Halloween party. You coming?”

You look up from your phone, feeling everyone’s eyes on you. “I mean… I don’t want to intrude on your group thing.”

“You’re not intruding!” Jimin, Jin, and Namjoon’s voices all stack upon each other and you’re taken aback by the sound.

Jin frantically scrambles to make you feel included. “Y/N, we just assumed you were coming. Of course you’re invited! You can help me get everything set up for the scary walkthrough. Please come.”

“Don’t give her work to do that you should have already figured out,” Jimin hisses before sending a warm smile your way. “I’ll text you the address later. It’s a costume party so make sure to dress up!”

Your bottom lip unconsciously protrudes in a pout as you pass a discouraging look Namjoon’s way. “What are you going as?”

He gives you a heartfelt, dimpled smile. “Sherlock Holmes,” he says with the worst british accent you’ve ever heard in your life. “World’s greatest detective.” He drops his accent and starts gushing. “The tweed suit is fairly iconic and most people will recognize the costume so I think it’s a safe option. Originally, I was going to go as Judge Di but Jimin kept telling me no one would get it. It would take some research to really get a feel for how he’d dress, but I’d be willing to put in the work.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Judge Dee? Like…. Judge... Ju...dy?” you trail off in confusion, immediately regretting your decision to ask.

Jimin throws his hands up as if this is the proof he’s needed to convince his friend that he’s wrong. “You see? I told you no one knows who that is.”

“Judge---! Really?!” Namjoon looks like he’s about to go off, but he shakes his head and sighs. “You know what? It’s okay. I look really good in a tweed suit. That’s all that matters.” He finished his statement by gesturing towards his chest.

You can’t help but laugh. “You’re such a dork.” You turn your attention to the others and raise your eyebrows at them. “What about you two?”

Jimin drags his teeth over his lip and shyly smiles. “I’m going as Iron Man. Tae’s been helping me build my costume for a while now.”

“Jungkookie and I are going as Luigi and Mario,” Jin proudly states he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees while tenting his fingers. “I’m Mario, of course, since everyone knows he’s the best.”

You roll your eyes. “Sounds like you, Seokjin.”

“What will you come as?” he questions with a smirk, cocking a mischievous eyebrow at you.

“Well...” you hesitate, knowing that most costume shops will be sold out of anything interesting or slutty; at this point your options are limited unless you want to be a Crayola shit brown crayon. “I’m not sure yet,” you mumble, scratching your cheek sheepishly. “I only found out just now so I don’t have anything ready. I usually go over Jennie’s place, hand out candy in my pajamas and watch scary movies, so I don’t know if I should bail on her like that.”

Solid excuse. Great job, brain. Really. Can I sound like more of a loser?

“She can come too,” Jimin offers with a thoughtful tilt of his head and a warm smile. “It’s a very open party. Lots of people will be coming and going, so it’s no trouble if you want to invite more of your other friends, if that makes you comfortable.”

Other friends. Like you have more than this group and Jennie. You’re going to just pretend like you didn’t hear that part. You can already hear her shrieking at you to say you’ll be there. She loves dressing up and would be more than happy to exchange a night of handing out candy for a night of partying. You suppose you can always get some vampire teeth and dab some fake blood on your mouth, but it feels like a cop-out. It’s a solid back-up plan at the very least.

“Okay. I’ll think about it,” you murmur with a fleeting look of panic directed at Namjoon.

He offers a sympathetic smile and pats your shoulder. “It’s okay if you don’t come. I’m just saying there will be free food.”

Your spine straightens and you perk up.

“Free food?” The words on you’re about to utter spill from a different source. A chin drops into the space between Namjoon’s shoulder and yours. Jungkook’s hair is still wet, but thankfully it’s not long enough to brush against your skin. The soft, sweet, almost floral scent of his body wash wafts into your nose as you turn your head to look at him. You surmise he’s come directly from work if he’s showering in the late afternoon. You internally swat the butterflies playing with your ribcage, trying to remember how to act normal.

Jungkook smiles sweetly, his eyes nearly closing with how high his cheekbones have risen. “Where is this food?”

“At the Halloween party,” Namjoon comments with a dismissing wave of his hand. “I was just telling Y/N that she’ll miss out if she doesn’t come.”

Jungkook raises his eyebrows and drops his smile as his surprised stare pierces your periphery. “Oh, you’re not coming?”

“I was thinking about it.” You immediately feel the need to defend yourself. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

“So don’t wear--” Jungkook catches himself before the word anything comes out. “A costume,” he finishes simply, straightening his spine and clearing his throat. “I mean we can make an exception. No one’s gonna kick you out.”

A devilish grin spreads across Seokjin’s features. “I’m sure I can help you find a pink dress and crown if you’d like to be our lovely Princess Peach. We can give each other items.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen at his friend and Jin stares back with anticipation, waiting for him to make the mushroom joke he clearly set him up for. Jungkook purses his lips and quietly regards you. As the moment passes, Jin’s brow furrows and he crosses his arms in a huff, wishing that he’d said it instead. It’s been too long since you’ve blushed for his liking.

“Maybe I’ll show up in a leotard, spiked collar, and fishnets as Bowsette instead.” You nearly snort at your own joke.

Jungkook and Jin spill their surprise over one another.

“Whaa? Really?” Jin’s mouth hangs open, the image already permanently searing its way into his brain.

“You what?” Jungkook clamps his hands over the edge of the couch, hulking figure looming over you.

While Jimin and Namjoon are both oblivious what a Bowsette is, the words “spiked collar and fishnets” have certainly grabbed their attention as well.

You blink a few times, realizing how serious everyone has become as you sputter out a nervous laugh. “Kidding, guys. Kidding.”

Jin tuts in disappointment, slinking back into his chair. Jimin simply smiles. Namjoon breathes a relieved sigh. Jungkook starts walking away, distracted by the signage on the counter promoting a cinnamon chocolate chip milkshake.

“Besides, I’m more of a…” A lightbulb flicks on in your head and the thought comes spilling out your mouth before you can process it. “Oh, I have a cosplay from the gaming convention I went to a year ago. Maybe I can wear that.”

All three men lean forward, suddenly very interested in the concept of you using a cosplay as a Halloween costume. Jungkook’s head snaps in your direction just as he extends his hand to give his money to the cashier, but he drops it prematurely, sending coins scattering across the counter.

The sound causes all of you to look over at him and he quickly turns back to the cashier. She raises her eyebrows at him as he scrambles to recover all of the money for her. His ears turn bright red from the attention and you can’t help but put yourself in his shoes, cringing at the embarrassment coursing through your veins at the thought of swapping places.

Spinning back to face the others, you find Jin and Jimin on the edge of their seats, staring at you. Namjoon blinks at you and tilts his head expectantly. “You were saying?” he prods. “Something about an anime costume?”

Suddenly you’re embarrassed for yourself rather than Jungkook. “Don’t be weird, Joonie. It’s just a Princess Zelda cosplay.” You scratch your cheek in contemplation, murmuring, “Actually, I don’t even know if it still fits since I’ve gained some weight since then.”

Namjoon pats your shoulder assuringly. “Ah you’re fine. Don’t worry too much about it, ok?”

“He’s right. Just bring your smile, cutie,” Jimin says encouragingly.

You blush at the nickname and grin in response. He said it innocently enough, but you get the feeling that you reacted exactly as he had hoped because he exchanges a smug smirk with Seokjin. “See? Bring that.”

“Ah, you guys are embarrassing me,” you mumble, diving back into the article on your phone. “I’ll talk to Jennie about it later.”

Jungkook listens carefully as he tongues his cheek and waits for his drink to arrive at the counter. Are you really going to show up in that? He pulls out his phone and starts skimming amazon. There’s no way he can pass up the opportunity, regardless of what’s at stake.

A familiar veiny hand sets the drink down on the counter, and he outstretches his palm. “Service was good, yeah?”

Jungkook looks up from the checkout page and locks eyes with Yoongi. He scoops a large portion of whipped cream from beneath the lid and pops it in his mouth thoughtfully, smacking his lips as he washes it down with a sip through his straw. Yoongi raises his eyebrows at him expectantly, but remains silent.

“Hmm, I’ve had better. Maybe if I had some more whipped cream?” Jungkook suggests as he tilts his cup forward and gives it the tiniest shake, shit-eating grin strewn across his features.

Unblinking, Yoongi squirts a puff of cream into the top of the container before loudly setting the can on the counter. Satisfied, Jungkook reaches into his pocket and fishes out some money for a generous tip. “See this is why you’re my favorite barista. You always make it just how I like it.”

Yoongi forces a smile as he stuffs the cash into the half-filled tip jar. “The Java Stop values your patronage, customer.”

He catches a glimpse of Jungkook’s phone screen before the younger man snatches it from the counter and walks away. What the hell is he up to?

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You curse your past self for choosing Zelda’s outfit from Twilight Princess rather than Breath of the Wild; style over comfort rarely is a good choice, but it’s a choice you often repeat without forethought. It’s tighter than you remember, and not just because there’s a corset sewn into the chestpiece. As you sit in the passenger’s seat of Jennie’s Civic, you fidget with the hem of your dress. Without taking her eyes off the road, she reaches over and slaps your hand.

“Stop it. You look great.”

You rub the back of your wrist and pout, knowing it does nothing to change her mind. You eye her tattered dress, wishing you could pull off something so slutty with the same confidence she does. White contacts make her look even more ethereal than she normally does. Natural waves and curls poke out from beneath the bent witch’s hat atop her head and you can’t help but admire her beauty.

“I look like a nerd,” you say, feeling shittier the longer you compare yourself to her. It’s not her fault. You’re just insecure and wish that you could be more like her rather than the you that you are.

“You are a nerd,” she laughs. “What’s wrong with that?”

You smile. “Nothing, I guess. I don’t know why I’m so worried about it. It’s not like I’m gonna be getting laid any time soon. This costume solidifies it.” Negativity is something you’re used to dosing yourself with, but you know it’s an action you need to work at correcting.

“Hey if no one wants to fuck you in a Zelda costume, do they even deserve to fuck you?” Jennie asks, wagging her pointer at the ceiling as if scolding some invisible source above. “I don’t fucking think so.” She tuts for a second. “So speaking of… Which ones are off limits?”

You scoff and stiffen in your seat, trying to play dumb. “What? What’s off limits?”

“Y/N,” she starts in an accusatory tone. “I’m sure there will be lots of hot people there, but I’m talking about seven hot people in particular. Now if they came up to me and said ‘hey Jennie you so fine you wanna suck all seven of our dicks?’ I’d be like hell yeah I’ma suck all seven dicks. Get in a circle and let me at ‘em.”

You smack your hand to your forehead, wishing you could purge that image from your brain.

“Now I’m just saying in this hypothetical situation that I would never turn down going down on any of them if they asked. Unless I remembered that one time you told me you were crushing, maybe, just maybe I wouldn’t suck that particular dick.”

“We’re about to go see these people. I don’t want to be thinking about this while sipping my drinks across from Seokjin. That man can smell fear, shame, and insecurity,” you mumble, looking out the window at the trees lining the side of the road.

“So that’s why we get it out now before we get there. Can’t possibly slip out if you’ve already got it out of your system,” she explains with a confident smirk.

You cross your arms and give yourself a moment to truly think about the seven men. You certainly find all of them attractive, but crossing that line might make things weird. But maybe, hypothetically… “I don’t know… They’re all pretty hot in their own way…”

“You’ve got to be attracted to one more than the others,” she prods. “Come on, Y/N. Which one does it for you?”

Your tongue clicks against the roof of your mouth before you sigh. “I guess…” You subconsciously lick your lips and give it a few seconds before the memory of falling picture frames surfaces in your mind. An embarrassed smile flickers across your face as you give your quiet, honest answer. “J-Jeon… Jungkook.”

“The young one!” Her mouth falls open. She drums her fingers against the steering wheel excitedly and spares a delightful, yet surprised look at you for a fraction of a second before her eyes return to the road. “Really? I never would have guessed. But I haven’t talked to him much honestly. Doesn’t he work at that nerdy-looking gym you almost joined? What was it, Iron Kingdom? You could always sign up for personal training. Ya know, get some one-on-one time with those muscles...”

“He’ll think I’m dumb for not knowing how to do anything,” you mumble. “Besides that’s not why.”

You shake your head and pause to start counting the list on your fingers. “Okay so he’s got muscles, a cute laugh, he likes video games, he literally always smells so fucking good, he has a great smile, he’s nice, and like he’s so mature for his age. I’m so surprised.”

“I mean from the few times I’ve seen him, I thought for sure he’d be a tool and a major shithead,” she admits.

“I know, but seriously don’t judge a book by its cover. He’s been so chill and respectful and has made me feel so welcome over the last few weeks. None of that fuckboy shit you’d expect to get with younger guys like, he doesn’t talk over me, no mansplaining, he looks me in the eyes and not at my tits, and listens when I say something, even if it’s just me talking about my day.” You pause, registering the words you just said. “Wow, the bar is really low, isn’t it?”

“Sad, but true.” She nods, glancing at the GPS on the dashboard. It’s says you’re nearly there, but it’s kind of further out from the city than you’d both been expecting.

She laughs, mulling over everything you’ve said. “He seems kinda shy. You probably need to make the first move. Maybe you should tell him you have a big fat crush on him. Tell him you wanna hold his hand. Do you think he’d blush? I bet he would. I bet he has a cute flustered face. You should totally do it.”

Recalling the way his ears turned red at the cafe causes you to purse your lips, but the action can’t hide the smile curling at the corners of your mouth. So you have a little crush on Jungkook. Who wouldn’t? He’s practically flawless and totally swoon-worthy. Your heart races as you imagine his reaction to your outfit. Would he be taken aback by how good you look as one of the hottest, most iconic female characters in gaming history? He’s a huge geek so you know there’s a possibility that he could appreciate it. Sweaty fingers work their way down your wig, carefully smoothing out any loose strands. You hope he does.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Walking into Jimin’s place feels like entering a mansion. He told you that he lives with two other people from the same modeling agency, but you didn’t realize how big the place would be. Seokjin’s ability to gather this many decorations and display them with such attention to ambiance is certainly a feat worthy of praise. You find yourself lost in the orange and yellow lights that border each doorway and drape along the walls. Their soft glow is comforting as you walk down the dim hallway, exploring the house just enough to find the table filled with fruits and snacks.

Jungkook is nowhere to be seen and you find yourself breathing a sigh of relief as you sip punch out of a red plastic cup, filling a plate with an excessive amount of strawberries, peaches, and other sweet fruits. Contrary to your previous belief that admission would mean freedom from the thoughts swirling in your brain, uttering the words out loud has made you paranoid that everyone now knows about your secret crush. You’re hoping that drinking will remove the worry from your brain, so you do your best to down the liquid fast and refill your cup.

Jennie immediately hit it off with one of Jimin’s roommates moments after walking in. You’re envious because holy fuck that guy is tall and jacked, and he’s wearing a Captain America outfit. Jennie is about to make out with Captain America and you’re gulping down spiked punch from a little plastic cup. You appreciate being able to silently agree to split, but know that you have each other’s back if either of you were to suddenly express interest in leaving, even if Captain America is balls deep.

She’s an extrovert. She loves socializing. Tossing a strawberry into your mouth, you eye the table of snacks again. You don’t. You love food. Food or sex would be a tough toss-up for you depending on the menu, and in this situation food definitely wins. There’s a buffet table of appetizers looping around the room and into the kitchen. It doesn’t get much better than this, especially knowing it was catered by Seokjin’s restaurant.

You remove a glove and tuck it beneath your armpit as you stuff your face full of sweet treats and survey the amount of people on the dance-floor. There are a good amount of people here --some with ludicrous costumes-- and it makes you feel better about being able to blend in.

You had arrived fashionably late only because Jennie may have passed the house a few times, thinking this place couldn't possibly be it. A hand skates around the periphery of your vision and you frown as it attempts to surreptitiously claim a peach slice from your plate. Following the hand to its owner, you find a smile quickly claiming your mouth in place of the previous sour grimace.

"There's plenty of peaches left over there," you say, pointing to the table of snacks beside you.

"Mmm," Namjoon hums as he pockets the fruit in his cheek. "But this pile is better. I can deduce that you've already picked out the best pieces, Zelda."

You look him over from head to toe, examining the details of his tweed suit. You hate to admit he's looking dapper as fuck in this outfit. Despite often wearing three-piece suits to work, you rarely have time to stop and really appreciate just how flattering they are on his frame. Your eyes settle on the dark brown silk carefully knotted around his neck. "Don't you get sick of wearing ties?"

His eyes widen and he blinks at you as if you'd just told him that he sat in some gum. "Do you think I should have gone with the bow-tie? I spent hours weighing the pros and cons to both and which would be more quintessential to the whole ensemble. Did I make the wrong choice?"

You open your mouth to respond, meaning to allay his concerns and tell him that he looks fine, but he interrupts rather quickly. "You know what, don't say anything. I brought the bow-tie as a backup. It's upstairs in the guest bedroom. I'll go put it on."

You grab his arm just as he's about to leave, noting the plate full of chicken wings precariously balanced on one hand. "Namjoon. Chill. Your tie looks fine. I was only asking because I would strangle myself if I wore one all the time. Now gimme some of that chicken."

His eyes dart from you to the plate in his hand and his anxiety seems to visibly melt away, replaced with a soft smile. "I'm overthinking again, huh?"

The words have never come easier than they do now. "No shit, Sherlock."

At that he offers a laugh. "How about a trade? I share the wings for access to the princess's treasury of peaches."

"Deal," you agree with a smirk, wiggling your eyebrows up and down. "Wanna people-watch with me?"

He nods enthusiastically as he tosses a handful of fresh fruit directly from your plate into his mouth. "I was gonna wander aimlessly and socialize but this sounds way better."

"Glad we're on the same page," you murmur into the chicken wing at your lips, sucking the sauce off of it and scanning the room for any particular eye-catching costumes.

The flash of red, flowing satin catches your eye. Is someone wearing a bathrobe? Seriously? The taste of hot buffalo sauce causes your lips to tingle as you note the soft, fuzzy edges of the robe. It looks comfy, actually.

You elbow Namjoon in the ribs, directing his attention to the slender, black-haired figure gliding across the room. Namjoon opens his mouth as if to identify the stranger, but the flourish of the robe beats him to it. As the material spins, you catch a glimpse of tan skin peeking out from the chest, long legs exposed as he reaches for the sash at his waist.

The silk billows as it comes undone, cascading to the floor like a river of crimson. There's no mistaking it. You're now staring at the nearly nude, half-painted body of Kim Taehyung. You can't help the way you jaw drops open at the sight of so much skin being flaunted seemingly without a care in the world. Namjoon's hand flies up to cover your eyes, as if he's going to spare you the sight you've already taken in. Now that you've seen Taehyung in a thong, there's no going back.

Sauce-covered fingers pry his away from your eyes just in time to meet the piercing gaze of the man across the room. Is it mirth or anger that graces his features? It's hard to tell with a paintbrush trapped in the box his teeth make. He takes lazy strides across the room as you struggle to keep your eyes off the unforgiving fabric outlining every last curve of his dick. It's not until he's closer that you notice the thin belts crossing his hips, which appear to be holding six tubes of paint, three strapped to each side like gun-holsters. You have to admit they frame his crotch rather nicely.

It takes every ounce of willpower you possess to keep your eyes trained on his face. He carefully takes the paintbrush out from between his teeth and extends it to you. "Draw something pretty on me, Y/N. You too, Joon. Tonight I'm a human canvas on display for the universe."

Your eyebrow quirks as you exchange a look with Namjoon and set your plate down. "You know people are just going to draw a bunch of dicks on you, right?"

He scoffs, waving off your concerns. "Don't be so negative. I will have a beautiful mural by the end of the night. Mark my words."

"I think you're putting too much trust in the goodness of human nature," Namjoon comments, his lips pressing together in an attempt to hide the amused grin that is quickly spreading across his features.

Taehyung cocks his head to the side and leans forward with a lopsided grin. You're afraid he's about to get even closer and whisper some dirty secret into your ear. Instead he asks in a breathy, low tone, "Princess Zelda wouldn't draw such dirty things on me, would she?"

Twirling the thick handle of the paintbrush between your fingers, your eyes dip to the paints secured at his waist. His eyes chase the trail yours make down his side and his delight splits his mouth into a goofy grin. "Oh. Help yourself." He gestures to the colors available with a sweep of his hands just above his hips. "Feel free to use your fingers instead.” He pauses when your mouth falls open slightly. “You know, to paint... Just be careful what you grab, Princess," he jokes.

Removing your other glove with your teeth, you drape them over your shoulder and reach out for the tube of yellow paint, trying to hide the way your hand trembles. He looks down and smiles as the cold paint touches his skin. Before long you have the faint shape of 3 triangles at the center of his chest.

“How fitting,” he murmurs, offering an amused hum as you fill in the last triangle with a glob of yellow that threatens to run down his torso.

“Oops, sorry,” you apologize, moving to tap the brush against the excess, but he grabs your wrist before the bristles can make contact with his skin again.

“That’s alright. Let it do what it does. I like it like this,” he says, watching the clump of paint slowly slide down his midriff. “Besides I’m sure someone else can use it.”

“Like Sherlock!” you suggest, holding the paintbrush out for your companion.

Namjoon takes it begrudgingly and uses the excess yellow to draw a small smiley face beside the triforce symbol.

“Cute,” Taehyung laughs as he takes the paintbrush back from Namjoon. “I love it. Thanks guys.”

Just as he turns to find his next artist, a long object bars his path, pressing against his chest just above the collarbone. You follow the shape of the bar to its owner, revealing a grinning Hoseok clad in an officer’s uniform.

“That’s a bold choice Taehyungie,” he says, securing the faux nightstick into a loop at his waist. “Just make sure you keep that thing on…” He gestures to the small bit of material at Taehyung’s crotch and holds up a pair of handcuffs with his index finger before continuing, “or I’ll have to arrest you for indecent exposure.”

“Impersonating an officer is a crime, you know,” Namjoon says, even as he’s reaching out to touch the shiny metal. “Wait. Where did you get these? Are they real?”

You squint at the device in Namjoon’s hands, looking for the safety release latch like the cheap pair you bought to use with your ex. You don’t see it. That can only mean that these are the kind where losing the keys would have real consequences. But you’re not about to out yourself as the kinky freak you are, so you bring your nearly forgotten drink to your lips and guzzle what’s left in the cup.

As the empty plastic hits the table, your eyes happen to trail across the room and land on a crowd of people gathering around a very impressive, fully-lit Iron Man costume. Jimin seems to be soaking the attention up as the crowd grows ever larger. The massive room has begun to diminish in size, and it’s as though the once comforting lights are now wilting and closing in on you, threatening to strangle the air from your lungs. The adrenalin spiking your veins is telling you it’s time to seek the comfort of open space and solitude. Fast.

You duck beneath Namjoon and Hoseok’s arms, carefully sidestepping around Taehyung to avoid brushing against the wet paint on his skin. “I’m gonna get some air. Try not to get cuffed, Sherlock,” you manage to joke with a smile before turning on your heels and booking it from the room.

If anyone responds to your joke or even acknowledges your exit at all, it’s lost on your ears. Sweat beads on the back of your neck as you hastily attempt to make your way down the hall. If you can just get outside, you can breathe. You’ll be fine. You know it.

Warm bodies clutter the path to your freedom and you can’t help but feel more and more breathless by the never-ending apologies spewing from your mouth as you squeeze past each blockade. You don’t feel like yourself, even as you speak. Taking in sharp, greedy breaths like this isn’t helping. Why is this place so devoid of oxygen? Your body moves on autopilot, seeing the faces of the people you pass, but not feeling their eyes on you.

You float out of the front door, your head as light as a feather, but your eyelids feel like they’ve been anchored. You’re positive you’re about to gracefully glide down the front steps, legs becoming amorphous blobs beneath you that will surely allow you to fly. Just as you’re leaning into the momentum of gravity, two pairs of hands steady your shoulders and criss-cross around your midriff.

“Deep breaths,” Jennie’s voice briefly cuts through the ringing in your ears.

“Do you need to sit down?” The other voice spills into your eardrum as a rushed whisper, one that’s dripping with concern.

Huh? You work on steadying your breathing instead of trying to answer.

“What did she drink?” the familiar voice asks Jennie, the brief flicker of panic quashed by the evenness of his tone. “How much has she had?”

“Relax, Yoongi. Not even our lightweight champion gets drunk that fast,” Jennie reassures him as they help you seat yourself on the top step. “Are you familiar with panic attacks?”

Yoongi rubs the back of his neck and nods silently, backing up to give you some space.

“Jennie. I’m fine now. Thank you,” you mumble, shaking your head and regaining your sense of self. “I’m glad you have my back.”

“Of course. I saw you in the hall and I just knew.”

You jump when you meet the gaze of her white, eerie contacts, which causes both her and Yoongi to laugh. You look up at Yoongi. He shoves his hands into his pockets, long flowing shirt obscuring any flesh poking out from beneath it.

“Hey, you’re not dressed up,” you blurt, realizing he’s sporting a very goth, natural Yoongi look.

He scoffs before bending at the waist and baring his teeth. A single vampire fang is affixed to one of his canines.

You tilt your head like a dog hearing a strange noise. “What, only one fang?”

“Just as dangerous, princess,” he warns with a smirk, standing up straight.

You swear you see a wink, but then again maybe you’re imagining it. You have been known to exaggerate things in your head. Still your stomach somersaults and you focus your attention on Jennie. “I’m okay. I think I’m gonna chill out here for a bit. Get back in there and dance with… god what was his name? Jackson? Jae-beom?”

“Jin-young,” she corrects before biting her lip and glancing back towards the house.

“Go. Hottie McYoungie won’t wait forever,” you tease and point your thumb over at the man hovering above you. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine with toothless over here.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes at the nickname but nods at Jennie. The answer seems to be satisfactory and she gifts you with a tight hug. “Text me if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay. Love you. Now go get laid.” You whisper to her before playfully pushing her back. Before you know it she’s scrambling up the steps and slips back inside, tattered dress swinging wildly with the sway of her hips, revealing just enough of her fishnet-clad thighs to draw Yoongi’s attention. There’s a fraction of a second where he wets his lips as he watches her go, but it’s gone in the blink of an eye. You don’t have time to tease because his dark eyes fall to you.

“Is there anything I can do?” His face is stoic but you can hear the sincerity in his tone.

“Wanna take a walk with me? I’d like to keep away from the big crowd.”

“I know the perfect place,” he says, hopping down from the steps and offering you his hand.

You take it with a smile and rise to your feet, carefully moving down the steps as you dust off your butt. The night air is a bit chilly and you start to work your gloves back up your arms to fight the goosebumps forming there.

That’s when you hear it. You want to misread the sound for a flute, recorder, oboe, or even someone’s radio, but you know those are all incorrect assumptions. It’s an ocarina: an ocarina playing a crude rendition of the opening to ‘Gas Pedal.’

Turning slowly, nothing can prepare you for the sight before you. Jungkook stands on the top step of the porch dressed in a green cap and tunic, tan leggings, and the ugliest dark brown boots you’ve ever seen in your life. He’s got the ocarina nestled between his lips, slowly descending each step with a roll of his hips that accentuates the definition of muscles behind the thin material hugging the shape of his legs.

Your eyes are wide, mouth falling open in surprise. “Jungkook?”

As he jumps down the last step he stops the tune and cups the ocarina in his hands, bowing slightly. “Princess.”

“What are you doing?” you ask, biting back the intimidated voice in your head that’s telling you you’re being picked on.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he asks in a low tone, a crooked smile crossing his features as he takes a few tempered steps towards you.

You swallow. How are you supposed to answer that? You take a deep breath, trying to drive off the urge to run as he advances on you. Yoongi takes a few steps back and folds an arm over his torso, cupping his elbow as he brings a knuckle to rest against his mouth with intrigue. He couldn’t hold out for one more day? Should I step in? He brings his weight to the front of his foot, ready to diffuse the situation.

“It looks like you’re trying to fuck with me.” You stand your ground, clasping your gloved fingers and calmly resting them against your dress in true Zelda fashion.

Yoongi’s weight shifts back, retracting the step he had taken. A direct accusation isn’t exactly something he would have expected from you, but he finds himself pleased nonetheless. He certainly chose a difficult target this time.

Jungkook gets close enough that you can see the tick of his jaw and the part of his lips as he drags his eyes across your form, settling on the cleavage created by your corset. “Some of those words were right.” He pauses, leaning to whisper against the shell of your ear. “Can you guess which ones, Princess?”

Heat consumes your face as his posture straightens. He doesn’t budge past the space he’s already claimed as his, but he doesn’t move forward again to invade yours. He watches, basking in the full on show your face puts on for his own entertainment. First comes the confusion, next realization, and then shame.

It’s hard to tell if he’s coming onto you or picking on you. You swallow, throat growing drier by the second. “You knew I was coming as Zelda. Weren’t you coming as something else?”

He throws his head back enough to feign exasperation while keeping his eyes trained on you. “Come on. You don’t like my costume?”

Instead of giving you time to answer, he brings the ocarina back to his lips and blows an obnoxious amount of air through the hollow space inside, producing a piercing rendition of ‘Talk Dirty to Me.’

Your shoulders raise as you inhale, suppressing the irritation bubbling within your belly. You wince, turning your head as a particularly shrill note escapes the instrument. Yoongi’s expression sours as he plugs both ears with his fingers.

Jungkook immediately stops playing and offers a sheepish grin. “Oops. I learned that one for you. Maybe I need more practice. Do you want to help me?” He briefly pauses to wet his lips, presenting the ocarina to you. “I can show you how to blow.”

You grind your teeth as your jaw ticks back and forth a few times before answering, “No thanks.”

Yoongi silently tents his fingers over his forehead and tries to massage the secondhand embarrassment from his skull. This is a trainwreck waiting to explode and at this point there’s no looking away.

Jungkook raises his eyebrows at you as he stuffs the ocarina into a small brown pouch hanging from the flimsy belt at his waist. “Ah. Sorry, Princess. I don’t mean to insult you. You’ve probably already mastered the art. Hah. Maybe you could show me a thing or two?”

Unable to form a proper response, your lips purse as the wheels in your head spin. Say something clever. Think of a comeback. Something. Come on. But here you stand, mind blanking for even the simplest of clapbacks. You’re having trouble coming to terms with the fact that your innocent little crush on the once “sweet” Kookie has come crumbling down with his facade, leaving your chest aching with the humiliation of your naivety.

He looks you over, admiring the artistry in the gown you’ve lovingly crafted. For a moment he’s lost in the embroidery stitched into the sash swaying in the breeze of a chilly October night. “I love your…” he trails off, eyes darting across your shape to capture every last detail of your attire.

He pays special mind to the gems adorned at your hips, and the heavy-looking chain belt which links the sash to your dress. He marvels over the color and velvet texture chosen for the purple corset at your torso. The sheer attention to detail and craftsmanship in your costume stuns him into silence for half a second.

His eyes reach the perky mounds of flesh peeking over the top of the corset. Miraculously his voice resurfaces. “...costume.”

The way his dark eyes linger on your chest isn’t lost on you. Your cheeks burn in the cool air, despite the goosebumps littering your arms. You cross your arms over your chest, higher than you normally would to combat his lurid gaze. The green hat atop his head folds over itself as he cocks to one side. Dark, hungry eyes snap to yours, voicelessly pouting at your blockade. For a split second a guilty excitement pulses through you, but you’ll be damned if you’re the cause of an obviously already inflated ego.

“You never said what you think of mine,” he prods. His eyebrows wiggle up and down as he slowly runs his hands along his torso, as if feeling himself up is going to sway your opinion.

You tell yourself not to fall for it, that he’s playing you for a fool right now. Still, your jaw is tight as your eyes helplessly follow the flow of his fingers down his body. His pinky purposefully catches on the flimsy pleather strap acting as the belt at his waist. An impish grin spreads across his face as he notes the way your chest stutters out the breath you’d unknowingly held. Satisfied, his hands continue their languid journey down his body. Your eyes are glued to the way he traces the contours of his thighs.

Finally his fingers dig into the meat of his those muscles and you feel the need to look away before answering. “I hate it.”

He sighs. “Hate is a strong word. Are you sure that’s how you really feel? Why don’t you look at me when you say that?”

Strengthening your resolve, you force your eyes back to his smug face. Stupid doesn’t even begin to cover how you’re feeling at this point. Biting back tears, you swallow hard and do your best to remain composed. Here he stands, a crooked smile amplifying the air of arrogance surrounding him. He’s playing you. He’s been playing you this whole time hasn’t he?

“I don’t even know who you really are, do I?” your voice cracks, only adding to your humiliation.

“I’m the bad guy. Duh.” With that he cackles as he pulls the ocarina from his pouch, proceeding to play the melody from ‘Bad Guy.’

You spin on your heels and storm past Yoongi, the blood rushing through your ears in a distraught rage, drowning out the bitter sound of the notes. A pang of guilt strikes the half-assed vampire as he stares at his friend. “One more day. You couldn’t make one more day?”

Jungkook shrugs, making his way back up the stairs. “If you see Hobi, tell him I’ll have his money tomorrow.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Dragging your hands across your face, you keep your gaze cast towards the ground.

How fucking idiotic, how self-absorbed have you been to assume that he’s been nice because he likes you and not because he was playing some game with you? He's probably just been waiting for an opportunity like this and you fell right into his trap. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

A hand clamps down on your shoulder and you spin, ready to deck the person you assume to be Jungkook. Yoongi's eyebrows raise as you stand poised to punch. He ducks to the side just in time. As you realize your mistake, it's too late. The momentum brings you forward.

His arms come up around you in a soft embrace, one that you're quick to return. "It's just me," he mumbles, kneading his thumb against your back. "...Sorry."

You bury your face into his shoulder, allowing the tiara to slip from your head and hit the soft ground with a dull thud. Why is he apologizing? He didn't do anything wrong. You want to tell him that, but any sound you make might bring about a slew of tears you've been holding back. Instead you just squeeze your arms around him even tighter.

He awkwardly pats your back a few times, not quite knowing what to do with the hug that's lasting longer than anticipated. Sensing his discomfort, you pull away and adjust your wig as you offer an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry."

A figure approaches, bending down to pick up the forgotten adornment. Out of the corner of your eye you see him rub the dirt off the tiara. Jin carefully places it on your head. "A princess should have a crown."

You look him over, noting the giant overalls, red newsboy cap and hideous fake mustache. You can't help but laugh as he forces a hard blink and puckers his lips, alternating lifting sides of his mouth so the mustache comically tweaks itself in a seesaw motion. "I like your costume," you manage between giggles.

He grins back, donning an over-the-top Italian accent. "I a-like-a yours too! A beautiful costume for a beautiful a-woman."

"Please stop," Yoongi groans.

Jin ignores him, fiddling with the corner of his mustache. "I don't-a know where my brother went. I think he's a-scared of the haunted mansion."

You roll your eyes at the joke. That's right. Jungkook was supposed to be Luigi. "He's busy playing a dick for the night."

A look of realization washes over him and he nods, puffing out air through overly inflated cheeks. "Hmm. You know what might-a make you feel better? Helping me scare-a the pants off of people!"

He folds his elbow and holds it out for you, tempting you to lace yours around it. Channeling your bruised ego and hurt feelings into scaring people for fun? That might just work. You feed your elbow through the crook in his. "Zelda and Mario working together."

Jin laughs. "The dream-a team!" He makes a motion to skip towards the outer entrance to the basement that he's dressed up with spiderwebs and a large, hand-made sign that says "MARIO'S GHOST HOUSE." Beside the entrance is a giant blown-up decoration of King Boo, its pink tongue flapping in the breeze.

As you're tugged in the direction of his creation, he stops abruptly. "Oh, we haven't had that many people though. So we have to make the few that come through count!"

Yoongi's eyes light up. "Hey. I’ve got an idea. I’ll get you a the best customer. But you have to really scare him. I promise it will make your night."

Puzzled, you furrow your brows and tilt your head. “Okay…?”

Jin grins like a maniac as Yoongi makes his way towards the front of the house. “Come on. I’ll show you the best spots to hide.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

About twenty minutes have passed since Yoongi left in search of his promised customer. Only a few people have wandered in. You have to admit it’s therapeutic to watch people scream and jump when you bang on the false walls within the maze Jin has somehow constructed in this basement. Watching people run up the final stairs to safety leaves you with a feeling of satisfaction, always giving Jin a prideful high-five before returning to the beginning to await more guests.

“Ah! My-a new-a guests!” you hear Jin enthusiastically greet the latest people to stop at the entrance. “Are you a-ready to have fun?”

There’s some hushed whispering that you can’t quite make out from your hiding place within the set.

“Don’t be such a pussy,” Yoongi chides loudly. “Seokjin made this. Do you really think it’s that scary?”

“P-Pussy?” Hoseok stares wide-eyed at his friend and scoffs. “Don’t be rude. I just know Seokjin. It will be worse than whatever I think”

Is that Hobi? You were kind of hoping Yoongi would get Jungkook to walk through. Knowing what you do now though, you have no doubt that Jungkook would be unphased by something like this. All you can hear in your head is the echo of his obnoxious laughter and a pang of hurt slices through your heart. God, you’re so stupid.

Yoongi points to the Boo’s tongue flapping in the wind. “It will be like that, probably. It’s silly to be so afraid.”

Hoseok bounces from foot to foot in uncertainty. Even a police uniform can’t steel his spine or guarantee safety. “Why should I do this to myself?”

Yoongi sighs. “I’ll help you look at new places and… help you move. I’ll even be your roommate if the rent is too high.��

Hoseok is beaming. How long has he been asking for help searching? Jin looks from one man to the other, hiding the subtle smile beneath his mustache. He knew Hoseok wouldn’t go in so easily, that something had to be offered up, but he really didn’t expect Yoongi to go so far.

Hoseok points at Jin. “You’re my witness. I go through this and he’s my roommate.”

“If the rent is too high only,” Yoongi tries to reason, but it’s too late. Hoseok has heard what he wants to hear. He grabs his friend and marches into the depths of the basement.

Immediately you bang the walls on their journey down, feeling Jin rush past you to set up for the next scare. Hobi screams. “Never mind! Never mind!”

Yoongi scoffs, dragging his friend forward. “Come on, officer.”

You listen for their footsteps as you circle the walls behind the maze. Hobi’s frantic yelling breaks through the room, slipping into loud curses. You pull your glove up and wait, peeking through the hole you’re hoping he’ll get close enough to. Even shrouded in shadows, Yoongi’s form peeks out from around the corner.

“Don’t think about the dark,” Yoongi says, slowly shuffling towards the wall with Hoseok crouched behind him, using him as a shield from any more scares. “Think about how you bet Jungkook he couldn’t stop himself from trying to get in Y/N’s pants, not even for one month.”

You freeze. Yoongi knows you can hear him, right? He has to know.

“Think about how well he was doing. You would have been cleaning his house tomorrow. Maid Hobi, bound by servitude.”

“I know…” Hoseok groans. “It would have been awful. He’s so messy! I wouldn’t even be getting paid! What was I thinking?”

“But instead, he bet you a month’s rent that he could,” Yoongi continues loudly. “He blew it tonight for the chance to dress up as Link and tease Zelda. He only had one more day.”

“He’s a dumbass,” Hobi comments with a nod, turning to look at the ceiling and making sure nothing is going to drop down on him.

You swallow, taking in the revelation Yoongi has just bestowed upon you. All this time you had spent thinking Jungkook was a sweet gentleman was actually due to Hoseok making a bet with him? You would rather have known Jungkook was a dick straight up because now the innocent, harmless crush you have on him feels so dirty and foul that you wish you could swipe it from existence.

It’s Jungkook’s fault. He lied. He pretended. You know this. But still you can’t help but partially blame Hobi for the bitter taste in your mouth. As Yoongi passes, you reach out, letting your fingers swipe down Hobi’s forearm and retract through the hole in the wall as he lets out a high-pitched scream.

“Hoseok, get off.” Yoongi tries to push away the man climbing onto his back.

“Something grabbed me! Something grabbed me!” Hoseok wraps his legs around Yoongi’s waist and huddles close to his neck pointing. “Over there! It grabbed me from over there!”

“Let’s keep moving, then.”

“No! No more! I’m standing right here until the sun comes up.”

“How is it standing if your feet aren’t touching the ground? I won’t carry you all night,” Yoongi says, adjusting his stance to compensate for the weight on his back.

“You will, too,” he pouts.

Jin helps you position a furry spider decoration above them, slowly dangling it lower until it finally hits Hoseok’s shoulder. The wail that escapes this grown ass man almost makes you feel bad. Almost. He swats the creature into darkness as he spurs Yoongi on by digging his heels into his belly. “Get me out of here! Please!”

Jin’s shoulders move up and down with the sound of his laughter as he slaps your hand in victory. Scaring Hobi made you feel a little better at least.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

The party has died down quite a bit and at this point Jimin has been passing you far too many drinks as he and Namjoon regale you with tales from college. Namjoon is clearly feeling toasty, laughing like a dork at every memory Jimin brings up. Apparently they were roommates and Jimin has a liberal arts degree from four years of being undecided.

Your head lolls around to rest on Namjoon’s shoulder, your backs pressed against the bottom of the couch as Jimin sits cross-legged in sweats and a t-shirt on the floor before you, his costume laying discarded beside him. He’s spinning his latest story of how Namjoon had accidentally thrown up on some girl he really liked. Yoongi silently lays on the couch behind you, smirking with his eyes closed. You can’t tell if he’s sleeping or just relaxing as you struggle to stand, using Namjoon’s shoulder as leverage to prop yourself up.

“Bathroom?” you ask distractedly, searching the room like a door will appear if you look hard enough.

Jimin smiles pointing at the doorway across the room. “Go out that door, take a left down the hall. It’ll be on your right.”

Your head dips a bit as you try to take in the directions. Namjoon looks up at you as you stumble forward, clearly off-balance. “Do you need some help, geeksquad?”

“I’m fine,” you mumble, hating the nickname he’s given you from work. “I’ll be right back. Don’t drink my drink.” You narrow your eyes at Jimin and he blinks at you in surprise, like you’ve accused him of such a heinous, unthinkable crime.

Rounding the corner, you pass a grinning Taehyung being led upstairs by a cute girl in a red beret, black and white striped shirt, and miniskirt with suspenders. Art hoe? Mime? It’s hard to tell what her costume might be. While his skin is covered in a beautiful mess of colors, your tri-force symbol still stands untouched at the center of his chest. You smile as you watch him climb the steps, clearly distracted. But as his back is revealed, your eyes widen at the sight of a mural of painted dicks. Well. At least he can’t see them.

You walk down the hall for what feels like an eternity, passing a few closed doors on either side. Maybe you should try one? Knocking on the one closest to you once, the door swings in and you lose your balance, not expecting it to open.

“What took you so long? I almost came without you.” The voice is pouty and low, somewhat familiar. He gasps when he realizes you’re not the person he’s been waiting for.

You stumble forward, falling to your knees and catching the bed frame before your face smacks into the wood. As graceful as you can manage, you pull yourself up. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to! I didn’t realize it was open and I was just looking for the---” The will to speak leaves you as soon as you see him.

A very sweaty, very naked Jungkook crosses his arms and he leans back expectantly, smushing the pillows behind him into the headboard. Your eyes take in the pleased expression on his face, quickly scanning the muscles of his folded arms, his chiseled abs, his bulging legs. The pointy green hat he had been wearing earlier tents across his sculpted hips and pelvis, thankfully obscuring any shape hidden beneath it.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again tonight,” he says, licking his lips as he watches your form tremble, practically falling apart in front of him before adding, “...Princess.”

A devilish grin overtakes him at the sight of you spinning around a little too fast, staggering towards the door and holding onto the frame for dear life. “I hoped I wouldn’t see you again tonight.”

“I can’t say it isn’t a nice surprise. You don’t have to leave,” he coaxes. “Do you wanna see my Master Sword?”

“Grow up!” You make sure to slam the door shut behind you. You hate him so fucking much it hurts.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

“Jennie, how could I be so wrong about him?” you sigh, dropping your forehead against the kitchen table. It’s been three weeks since you’ve talked to him, but it’s still the only thing you can think about.

Jennie takes a sip from her beer. “Sweetie, you’re not good at reading liars. Maybe you should look at some dating apps. You could get good read quick.”

“But I don’t wanna,” you whine into the coated wood. “Why can’t people just be nice?”

“Because. People suck. Come on, Y/N. Jungkook ain’t worth the headache. Drink with me. I’ll show you how Tinder works. It’s not so bad.”

When you don’t say anything, she tugs your chair across the floor, dragging your form close to hers and setting her phone down on the table. You peek out at the screen as you raise your head and rest it on a lazy elbow.

“Swipe right on the hotties. Swipe left on the fuckboys and losers. Jungkook? He’s a swipe left. But look at all these good ones on here. These are all swipe righties.”

You nod as she goes through a few profiles and begin downloading the app on your phone. Maybe she’s onto something.

#jungkook smut #bts smut #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you

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solecize · 4 years

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EIGHTEEN FOREVER - PT 1.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. it all starts off when the bad boy greaser with a heart of gold, wong yukhei, almost runs you over with his beat up chevy on your way to school. your love story is immortalized through pen and paper, midnight ink and bloodstained envelopes spanning months on end. the sixties are a time of freedom and heartbreak—the time of your life. 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. lucas x reader 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄. period au (1960s) / high school au / slice of life / fluff / angst 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. mature language, alcohol use, violence, drug use, light sexual references, mentions of death, themes of war, implied toxic family relationships, probably some historical inaccuracy but only if u squint 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 7.3k 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. not proofread, as usual <3 all of the poems do not belong to me. in addition, smoking is normalized in this fic, in addition to slight tinges of sexism. i do not support either, but the elements were added due to the time period.

for the one with the pretty eyes:⠀ ⠀ 555-968-84 ⠀ ⠀ call me. ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ (in the blue chevy in front of you)

on your side of town, graduating high school was as rare as a teenage male walking around with clean knuckles and hair that wasn’t slicked back with thick pomade. you were proud of yourself for making it this far, while all of your other friends dropped out early and had babies or began to work full time. books weren’t for everyone and not everybody could afford it. college was a long shot for most of the graduating class, or at least the ones from your neighbourhood.

“who are ya taking to prom, huh?” kunhang was relentless in sticking his nose all up in your business, bothering you for weeks on end about your date. he began kicking the passenger’s side from the backseat to annoy you further and you flipped him off with a growl.

sicheng watched the two of you with a snort, muttering something about you two being geeks and proceeded to kill the engine of the car, once finding a suitable spot at the drive in.

you rolled your eyes. “why do you keep assuming that i’m even going? why’re you going?” kunhang was your only friend who was going to be graduating at your side.

“because i can. i think that’s more than enough of a reason.”

just a fraction of the kids you knew from your neighbourhood attended prom, most preferring to hit the watering holes to party with fake ids rather than stand under hot lights and drink bland punch. then again, only a fraction of those kids had the privilege of being able to go. however, the event was a waste of time, if anyone asked you.

“i have other things to worry about,” you retorted. “like exams.”

you carried a lot of pride on your shoulders. you were the only child in your household to make in this far in academics, with your mom long gone in the cooler behind bars and your father leaving this world when you were young. your older sister lived the glamorous housewife life and barely spoke to you, turning her nose up at the family that she left behind for fortune. it was just you and your older brother fending for yourselves in that tiny house that was always empty, with you constantly out and your brother always working out of state for his truck driving job.

“it’ll be a gas, c’mon,” kunhang began to pout. “i’ll even let you dance with me.” between the girls that nearly broke their necks whipping around to get a good look at him in the school hallways, you doubted he would be able to.

pretending to gag, you replied. “ew, no.” you laughed and exited the mustang to avoid him swatting at your arm.

the clementine sky was just about dipping into the horizon, brightening the small lot with warmth and comfort. chatter and laughter wafted in the air, along with cigarette smoke and the hug of youth. june’s summer beast was just about creeping in, as other attendees pulled up in miniskirts and wife beaters to beat the heat to a pulp. it was the perfect evening for a crappy movie and an ice cold coca cola.

sicheng teased, “i’m surprised you’re even making it out of that hellhole with a diploma, much less going to the prom.” he poked kunhang’s side and the other male yelped, pulling him into a headlock as the three of you walked. you rolled your eyes.

weaving through the crowd of people making their way back to their cars, you were heading towards the concession area with the boys. as always, sicheng insisted on arriving just a little bit later because he liked being parked far away from the screen.

you were lost in the thoughts of buttery popcorn and a cream soda when you stopped in your tracks, frozen. sicheng and kunhang noticed this, having just released each other in their psuedo fight, and looked at you strangely. you wanted to facepalm yourself.

you exclaimed, “aw, fuck, we’re a whole buncha idiots. we forgot!”

the two boys looked horrified, as they slowly realized what you all had done. immediately, your group scurried back to sicheng’s mustang and tried to avoid shoving into people. the outing had just begun and the last thing you needed was kunhang’s hothead smacking into someone’s jaw.

“chenle! chenle, you good, buddy?”

upon closer inspection, you could hear the sounds of thumping up against the inside of the mustang. sicheng nearly fell over when he reached for the trunk, heaving it up to reveal the red-faced younger male. he dramatically gasped for air and you couldn’t help but giggle at him.

sicheng’s body folded and doubled over, as he tried to catch his breath in laughter. “holy shit! dude, you fucking idiot!”

“me?” kunhang was wiping tears from his eyes, body rumbling with his snickering. “who’s idea was it to bring the kid?”

you loved having chenle around, your younger wisecrack of a neighbour who often tagged along with the three of you. he was an absolute ball of sunshine. unfortunately, being the youngest meant being the butt of everyone’s jokes.

obviously, the boys meant no harm, but you were the one with the softest heart between all of them and was far more gentle towards him. “aw, we’re really sorry, chenle,” you managed to sputter out between your laughter.

“why do i always end up going in the trunk?” chenle frowned, shoulders drooping. “and i ain’t a kid!”

and of course, chenle and kunhang began shoving each other, albeit playfully at the very least. you sighed and came to the conclusion that you were friends with a bunch of goddamn zoo animals and that you needed some female friends. they stopped when you yelled at them to knock it off.

sicheng replied, “sorry, buddy. you’re the smallest one, so you luck out.” of course, it would never be him because it was his car, even though he was the bright one who suggested hiding one of you in the trunk to avoid paying for an extra ticket.

“can we just get our popcorn now?” chenle had officially given up, though his pout stained his face.

you all murmured in agreement, though everyone shared the same shit eating grins for accidentally abandoning chenle in the trunk of the mustang. he continued to claim that he was suffocating the entire time, as you lost yourself in the daydream of a refreshing drink from the concession stand amid the intense humidity.

then, kunhang called your name and that’s when you realize you’d walked ahead when everyone else stayed behind.

the three boys were inspecting something on the windshield of the mustang. sicheng remained neutral, so you figured it couldn’t have been a scratch or crack or something. you jogged over to peer over at what they were all looking at.

“when did someone leave this. . . .?” sicheng trailed off, trying to remember if he saw any figures approach in car. it must have been right after they initially left.

it was a piece of lined paper, likely torn out of a notebook and tucked underneath one of the wipers. the handwriting was clear and you cocked an eyebrow. pretty eyes?

“wow, someone left a note for me,” kunhang grinned.

chenle cleared this throat, looking elsewhere. “uh, actually, i don’t think it’s for you, man.”

you followed his eyes, realizing that he spotted the said blue chevy. a handful of guys lounged around the back of the pickup, some you even recognized from school and others you just knew. there was the former football team linebacker, yangyang. your once upon a time lab partner, xiaojun. even your older brother’s best friend, kun. there was ten, who worked at the ice cream shop that you frequented.

then, there was the one who was looking straight at you.

everyone knew yukhei, but nobody really knew him. he had a shield of mystery in between himself and the rest of the world, only truly with the same four guys at all times. that’s how you saw him as, anyway. otherwise, to the rest of your town, he was the bad boy with a heart of gold, the boy with witty retorts and the brightest smile that you’d probably ever laid eyes on. something seemed so off about the way he portrayed himself to everyone else, though.

of course, to the rest of the girls at your school, he was the top candidate on everyone’s list for a prom date. you knew that enough, from the explicit whispers from girls that you overheard in the middle of class. everyone wanted him.

that’s why, if he hadn’t locked eyes with you, there was no way in hell you’d believe that yukhei wrote that note for you.

the idea scared you and you weren’t thrilled by the possibility of having wong yukhei. that’s why you immediately crumpled up the notes and tossed it to the side. he watched your every move as you did so.

after all, yukhei nearly ran you over the week before and he clearly could not remember your name.

the week before.

“are you out of your goddamn mind?!”

so, you were a little sleep deprived. you’d been up until the early morning hours finishing an essay worth a chunk of your grade, which shouldn’t have taken so long if it weren’t for the fact that you had to deal with the constant distractions that were your friends. at some point, chenle and sicheng dropped by and decided to make you cookies in the kitchen to cheer you on as you reached the end of the school year—obviously, that escalated into a disaster. you spent a few hours cleaning before you could finally kick the two knuckleheads out of your home.

that morning, you literally rolled out of bed onto the floor when you woke up. this was upon realizing that you slept through your alarm clock for school, snoozing off into the deepest sleep of your life after finishing your assignment. that’s how you found yourself sprinting from street light to street light, hoping to at least make it before the end of second period.

then, there was the baby blue chevy pickup speeding in like lightning from your left. you honestly should have heard it from a mile away, with the gurgle and sputter of an engine humming the disgusting tune louder than anything else on the street. however, you were too lost in the daze of fatigue and trying to remember if you packed yourself a lunch.

you noticed the truck a little too late, as it was a few away from you before you yelped and attempted to hop away, but ended up landing straight on your bottom. the impact nearly knocked the wind out of you and you braced yourself for the crash. thankfully, the driver had enough sense to come to a screeching halt, just about to touch you. this is when you yelled at the male behind the wheel.

the features of his handsome face knitted together. “aw, shit, shit shit—are you alright?” he yelled.

it took half a second to process what just happened, ignoring the stinging ache oozing in your backside. you took a sharp inhale and everything exploded like a volcano. shooting right up in a sitting position, you were met with the eyes of wong yukhei.

“do i look alright?” you snapped and he opened his mouth to reply, but you didn’t let him get even a word out. “you almost killed me, running that stop sign! i’m freakin’ exhausted, probably got three hours of sleep and i had to deal with my brother’s idiot cat almost clawing my eyes out on my way out! i’ve been running for forever and my legs ache like hell and i have to go to work straight after school! and. . .and, worst of fucking all, i’m late for school!”

yukhei simply blinked, staring back at your state, with dark crescent moons slapped underneath your eyes and your chest heaving for air. you were, in all simpleness, a mess. he smiled slightly, running a hand through his precisely twirled up, slicked up hair. you narrowed your eyes at his response.

he simply replied, “you wanna hop in?”

“i—what?”

“c’mon sweets, i’m sorry. i fucked up, at least let me give you a ride to school,” yukhei said, unbuckling his seatbelt. he began to exit his vehicle, gliding over to you and extended his hand. a smile remained on his lips and your head started to spin.

that was definitely not the response you expected. the only reason you went off on him so harshly was because you were used to dealing with the idiot hoods from your block, who seemed like they were raised without a lick of manners in the very few braincells in their heads. as a woman, you knew that you were going to automatically be treated lightly and built strong walls for that very reason. to have yukhei respond with such quietude was foreign to you and you felt a weight drop at the pit of your stomach for your reaction.

reluctantly, you grabbed his hand and he helped heave you up. you stumbled slightly once you rose a little too fast and you instinctively grabbed for leverage, which happened to be a handful of his leather jacket. yukhei didn’t seem to mind, though, which astounded you because other guys like sicheng and kunhang carried their leathers like their pride and joy, with even the slightest crinkle driving them mad. you apologized regardless.

yukhei attempted to steady you, both hands on either side of your shoulders. “s’okay, no worries. you kinda took a hard fall there.”

you gulped down the ball forming in your throat, trying to look anywhere but into his deep brown eyes. these were the same eyes that girls cursed for tearing into their hearts and bringing on permanent cracks. the same eyes that girls cried over in the washrooms at school. school. you were late for school.

“um, yeah, let’s. . .let’s just go.” you’d been counting time in your head since leaving your front door and knew exactly what time it was, but you still pulled up your sleeve to glance at your watch. anything to avoid looking into his eyes.

something must have creeped in under your skin and taken control of your muscles because you were not the type of person to get into a stranger’s car. alright, wong yukhei was no stranger, but he had a reputation that you were well aware of. it was just as bad. or maybe it really just because you were—

“—late for school again, but i guess i’m used to it and you’re not,” yukhei had been saying, but you were zoned out and had just opened the car door.

it seemed to had only occurred to you then, but you sometimes forgot that yukhei still went to your school. he had a distinct group of friends that he spent time with, all of which had dropped out quite some time ago. he never really struck you as the academic type and as far as you could remember, you never ran into him in the hallways or in class. the only reminders of his existence in the place were the indecent fantasies written about him on the inside of the girls’ bathroom stalls.

“you sure you’re okay, y/n? it is y/n, right?” yukehi glanced over at you from the driver's seat, roaring life back into the pickup with the turn of his key.

you thought you heard incorrectly, but then he repeated it. yukhei actually knew your name and it wasn't just because he was this popular boy that all the girls went after, but you were in shock be ause you'd never even exchanged words before as far as you knew. he seemed to read your mind and gave you a look that read "surprised you, didn't i?" with the raise of a single eyebrow.

yukhei continued as a further explanation,“i sat behind you in history class last year before i transferred out of it.”

clipping in your seatbelt, all you could reply with was, “yeah.” your eyes darted over to the way he mindlessly gripped the steering wheel with one hand, with a beautiful swirl of reds and blues staining his otherwise immaculate knuckles. he let the other one hang loose out of the window. “you promise to drive safe?”

a goosebump inducing grin, one bright enough to outshine a sun, stretched across his lips. “yeah, cross my heart.” yukhei said this, even as booked beyond the speed limit. you didn’t say anything. “to be fair, sweets, you weren’t exactly lookin’ out when you were sprinting earlier.”

you awkwardly twirled the ends of your hair hanging down your shoulder, but tried to keep an annoyed expression. “i was counting on drivers following road signs, yukhei.”

he smiled even wider. “ah, so you do know my name.”

that was a pretty ridiculous thought, there was no way that he wasn’t just teasing. yukhei had to be even just the slightest bit self-aware enough to see the way he’s flanked by girls at school. he was popular, enough so that quiet kids like yourself who never talked to him knew him. besides, you all lived in a town where everybody knew everybody and chances are, their kids come to know their kids and so on. nobody escaped the little bubble and routine that you all settled in.

something tugged at your heartstrings, though, at the way yukhei lit up.

“what’s the story behind those bruises?” you finally said, cocking your head to the side.

“hmm?” yukhei murmured, as the sight of your school building came into sight. “oh. just a badge of loyalty. you know how it is.”

unfortunately, you did know. around here, boys seemed to travel in packs and each one had each other’s backs to the grave. some found it silly, but there was an air of unspoken understanding.

“some kids from the south side give y’all trouble?”

if you had to guess, you would have probably gone with the reason being yukhei’s hothead of a best friend, yangyang. there was one particularly bad outburst last month, when you and kunhang went to the diner after school, only to be interrupted by a fight erupting between yangyang and some rich kid from the south. of course, the prep had his boys with him to back him up and bring the fight outside, prompting yukhei and xiaojun to get involved automatically. you had watched in amusement from the other side of the window with your strawberry milkshake, as yukhei beat a guy up against his own car.

“not me, my little sister. that shit don’t ever sit right with me, runnin’ their mouths on an innocent girl like her.” something in your brain clicked and you remembered that yukhei had a kid sister, only because she was in chenle’s grade and he used to have the biggest crush on her. “it’s just the two of us and our grandpa, so i feel extra responsible for her.”

that was the way your brother used to be with you, when he turned legal just before your mom got sent behind bars. you’d always have appreciation for him and in turn, you gained a new wave of respect for yukhei.

“what’s the story behind ms. honour roll being late to school?” it took you a second to realize that he was talking about you and you snorted.

you replied, “i’m surprised you asked. if i were you, i’d be scared of me going off on another rampage.”

“yeah, i’d bet you’d really get mad the second time. maybe even beat me up?” yukhei smirked, making sure you were paying attention to the fact that he’d obeyed the next stop sign they crossed paths with. you rolled your eyes.

“you’d end up just like one of them roman emperors,” you mused, watching a trace of confusion emerge on his handsome features. “c’mon, that’s from like the second week of our history class.”

yukhei merely shrugged. “i was too distracted.”

“distracted? by what, the teacher’s droning voice?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“nah, this real pretty girl that sat in front of me. so much so that i had to transfer out because i would have probably flunked out.”

before you knew it, he pulled into the parking lot of the school. before being able to announce the arrival, you’d already nearly ripped off your seatbelt and zipped out of the car, yelling a thanks as you scurried off with a deep rouge tinting your cheeks. there was still ten minutes left before the end of second period. yukhei only chuckled, watching you.

dear yukhei,

remember that first night at the drive-in? honestly, i thought you were a real fox. someone i had no chance with. the fact that you gave me a chance scared the hell out of me. you know how many restless nights i had, tossing and turning because i wanted to know why you chose me? out of the girls in the world, you made me feel like a goddamn diamond in a pile of dirt. i’ll never forget that. i’ll never forget the way you made me feel that summer, the first and last one we spent together.

love, your sweets.

after ignoring yukhei at the drive-in, you were positive that was going to be the last you heard from him. however, he still plagued your thoughts like a ghost. you had no idea why, but you knew that it scared you. it was the day after and you arrived to school early, trudging to your locker with a yawn. you thought your eyes were deceiving you, when you pulled open the door to be met with a note flying out of a random crook.

here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

and, to a lightning shock to the middle of your chest, you looked over to your side to find yukhei. he leaned against a wall of lockers, not even pretending to listen to the two girls talking to him. he was looking straight at you and smiled. you let out an exasperated scoff, wondering if you were dreaming.

you’d received a few more of these love poems before you decided to take matters into your own hands. or, really, it was chenle who forced you to do so. you didn’t dare confide in either sicheng or kunhang about your new admirer. there was no doubt that they’d turn their lip up at the idea of love poems, would probably go on and call yukhei some emasculating name. they also knew of yukhei’s reputation and were a tad over protective.

alright, a “tad” was an understatement. kunhang was furious when he realized yukhei was trying to make a pass at you at the movies and sicheng had to shove him back into the car to prevent a fight. it also seemed that it was so that he could find a different parking spot, away from yukhei and his friends.

although he began courting you from a safe distance, yukhei was not one for subtlety. you noticed that right off the bat when he boldly gave you his number in front of all your friends. the poems in your locker was another thing, as he was always just around the corner to ensure that you knew they were from him.

she walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies; and all that’s best of dark and bright meet in her aspect and her eyes; thus mellowed to that tender light which heaven to gaudy day denies.

the latest of them, discovering the folded up note in your locker once again, had particularly swept you off your feet.

“what if he’s like this with every other girl?” you began to worry, fiddling with the phone cord in your hand.

you were seated in your living room one tuesday night, crossed legged on the ugly floral couch with a joint in between your lips. sicheng and kunhang left just minute prior, leaving you with chenle. he was watching television in your dad’s old armchair, in an identical position as you. neither of you were in the mood to go out, having being burned out by final exams. meanwhile, chenle made your house his second home when he couldn’t get a foot in his own door without his parents yelling at him for any reason they could find.

chenle snorted. “if wong yukhei wrote love poems to every girl he’s been with, i’m pretty sure we would’ve all heard by know.” he took a drag out of his joint. “besides, he only has eyes for you, even when he has other broads hangin’ off of him. everyone’s been noticin’ that the girls’ve been backin’ off of him lately, too.”

at this point, you were no longer scared of the idea of wong yukhei. in fact, it excited you. maybe it was the marijuana doing its usual duty, but you had a sudden surge of energy flowing through your veins.

reaching into the back pocket of your capris, you uncrumpled the first piece of paper that started it all. you hadn’t thrown out the note from the drive-in after all, recovering it just before sicheng insisted that you guys were to move. letting go on the deep breath that was imprisoned in your throat for what seemed like an hour, you slowly began to dial in the number.

“hello?” a familiar deep voice rumbled.

“hi,” you managed to squeak out and you gave chenle the middle finger when you caught him snickering. “i’m looking for yukhei.”

you could practically hear the smile in his voice. “this is him. who’s calling?”

“um, y/n.” you wedged the phone in between the side of your cheek and your shoulder, unconsciously beginning twirling a loose strand of hair.

there was a pause on the other line and you weren’t sure what to make of it, possibly disbelief. “oh. hi, sweets.” yukhei chuckled. “i see you’ve decided to give me a chance.”

“does this mean the notes are gonna stop?” you teased, but deep inside, you were hoping the answer was going to be a no.

he simply replied, “’course not. unless you say the word.” there was some fiddling on the other end and you could’ve sworn you heard the sound of a lighter. “when are you free?”

“you askin’ me out, yukhei?” you giggled and chenle rolled his eyes at you, throwing a pillow in your direction. you covered the phone with one hand, telling him to fuck off, before sweetly bringing it back up to your ear.

“how’s friday?” the male exhaled a little loudly—was he smoking, too? you wanted to feel a little bit powerful, so you convinced yourself that it was out of nerves.

you responded a little bit too quickly. “yes. friday sounds good.” swallowing down the realization, you proceeded to give him your address.

“good,” yukhei repeated after you, slowly drawing out the word like molasses. “i’ll pick you up at eight. see you then, sweets.”

the call ended and you sat as still as a statue. closing your eyes, you lost yourself in the daze of smoke and the thought of yukhei. were your ears ringing? the faint hum and static of the television faded out, as you leaned back into the couch with a stupid smile playing at the corners of your lips.

someone cleared their throat. you cracked one eye open and lo and behold, chenle was looking at you like you were a lunatic. in that split second, your face dropped back into annoyance and you hurled the nearest cushion in his direction.

“hey!”

“what?” you snapped.

chenle continued his earlier snickering. “guess that went well, then, huh? i told ya so.”

you put out the joint in front of you and proceeded to bury your face into your hands. your state of disbelief felt permanent, like you were stained with the thoughts of wong yukhei forever. without a word of warning, you began to screech uncontrollably and the younger male nearly jumped out of his seat.

“ahh!! what the fuck, y/n?!” chenle heaved, holding his hand on his heart like he’d been shot. he accidentally knocked over the bag of pretzels that he’d been munching on, spilling it all over the carpet. normally, you would have freaked out over the mess, but you were too entranced in the fact that you had a date with the most handsome boy in school.

that’s when chenle knew you were either: possessed or completely smitten.

the grin on your face was so wide that it hurt, but you blocked out the pain. “we have a date!” with that, you nearly jumped onto the armchair and hauled chenle in a bone crushing hug that left him without any oxygen.

“can’t. . .breathe. . .” he was blue in the face at this point, struggling to even get his words out.

you giggled and released him, patting his cheek as he did so. chenle gasped dramatically for air, coughing as he did so. he shot you a glare.

“so, when’s the day of this stupid date?” he grumbled, settling back into his spot and began picking up his mess.

returning to the couch, you said, “friday. he said he’s going to pick me up.” you once saw that chevy of his as the devil machine, but now, you were swooning at the thought of it pulling up in front of your house.

“friday?” chenle’s eyebrows suddenly reached his hairline.

you gave him a questioning look. “yeah, it’s a little soon, but—”

“no, no,” he shook his head. “it’s not that. uhh, don’t you remember what’s happening on friday?”

you began to search your brain for any important dates, like a test or a birthday that you should’ve jotted down. “huh?” you came up empty and tilted your head slightly to the side.

“that’s prom night, stupid.”

if you hadn’t been hit with a ton of bricks before, this was an entire goddamn building raining down on you. wong yukhei had not only chased you with love poems and asked you out on a date, but he had asked you out to prom. this was really happening.

you didn’t give a damn about prom night, but you knew what it meant to other girls and it seemed like you just won a year long race between the class of seniors itching to get their hands on yukhei.

he wasn’t the only reason for your disbelief, but it was also the fact that you managed to get roped into attending prom anyway, after months of complaining about it. you groaned, lying down on the couch. this meant you had to go out and buy a freakin’ dress.

my love,

there are two times in my life when i was left absolutely breathless. the first time was when i first met you and i mean really met you. i always knew you in my heart. we were about fifteen when you moved to this town, this town that i’d grown to resent all of my life. i associated these streets with violence and hatred and i wanted nothing more to get away as fast as possible. i was hanging out with ten, loitering at the ice cream place, while i waited for his shift to end. that’s when you came in and you asked me about what flavour was best. i had a crush on you ever since that day, but could never seem to work up the courage to approach you first. yeah, i’m a fucking idiot, i know. i had those other girls following me around, but i could never quite shake off that feeling of, well, you. i’d never felt so damn. . .shy? when a girl made me feel that way, i knew you were special.

the second time was on prom night.

"ah, ah, don’t open that yet.”

you pouted and put the note back in its place, nestled in between the dozen of peonys. they were the colour of the sunset, a soft peach that brought butterflies to your insides. when yukhei had arrived to your front door with these, you nearly gasped out loud because they were so stunning.

the colour was identical to the sky above, as the clouds faded into one another and touches of navy loomed at the base of the point where the land met the heavens. yukhei’s windows were rolled all the way down and you let the wind penetrate against your being, caressing the locks of your curled hair. you’d applied an absurd amount of hairspray to keep it that way, so you weren’t concerned about the wind ruining the style.

yukhei glanced over to your side. “you can open it at the end of the night. promise.” the more you saw him smile, the more charming it became each time.

when the two of you pulled into the school parking lot, you immediately spotted kunhang and his scratched plymouth. he was leaning against the hood, sweet talking his date, some girl named meixiu that you didn’t know. probably an underclassman, you had no idea. he waved at you and probably just you, as you failed to miss the way his upper lip slightly twitched when yukhei exited his vehicle.

kunhang was the only person you guys were meeting, since both of your friend groups consisted of drop outs. you gave a polite wave to meixiu and gave kunhang a quick side hug. meanwhile, he and yukhei exchanged curt nods, as the parking lot began to reek of testosterone from the stares between the two alone.

“nice threads,” meixiu broke the silence, peering at your dress.

thankfully, you rummaged far enough into the last of your sister’s things that she left behind before moving out and came out with something decent. it was a boatneck satin dress with an empire waist and went down to just above your ankles. under the glare of the sunset, its baby blue hue contrasted beautifully. definitely pretty and saved you money and time. considering your lack of female friends, it would have been a real pain in the ass to have to drag either sicheng or chenle to a boutique.

“thank you,” you smiled at meixiu.

when you opened the door to greet yukhei, he had looked like someone just slapped him. he looked absolutely stunned and began drinking in the way you had dressed up, like an angel appeared in front of him and breathed the word of god. you were just as stunned when you were met with his put together appearance. you always had a soft spot for a tuff leather jacket and calloused hands, but seeing yukhei in a tuxedo made you rethink your preferences.

“wow,” the two of you had sputtered out at the same time and after a pause, began to laugh together.

meanwhile, kunhang merely blinked at your appearance. “turns out you’re a woman after all.” he yelped when you smacked his arm for that comment. “what? just because you walk around in a miniskirt doesn’t mean you’re a lady—” you hit him again.

“a pretty damn fine one at that,” yukhei snaked an arm around your waist and you relaxed slightly. “ready to head in?”

that baby blue dress. the way you lost yourself in the music on the dancefloor without a care in the world. my god, i wish i could capture that memory in my mind forever. i was still so goddamn shy and the only way i could express my feelings was through letters. some things never change, huh?

yours truly, yukhei.

the rest of your night was just as you imagined it would turn out. some lame music, bad refreshments, and glares from literally every girl on the dancefloor when they saw who you arrived with. all eyes were on the two of you when you walked in through the doors, though you knew it was partly out of curiosity to see who wong yukhei would bring to prom.

suddenly, you were beginning to be treated different. guys you’d never spoken to for four years cornered you into conversations that you had no interest in. girls complimented your dress and not in the way meixiu did, but like panthers sneaking up to stalk their prey. you nearly finished the contents of yukhei’s hidden flask out of annoyance.

“easy there, sweets,” he said, eyes wide when you slipped him his almost empty flask.

you laughed a bit. “sorry. i’m just slowly starting to get tired.”

“sleepy?” he asked, brushing a stray curl of hair out of your face.

the two of you were leaning on a wall, silently bopping your heads to the tune of the bluesy guitar playing throughout the school gymnasium. yukhei, you discovered, was a really good dancer. although shy at first, the majority of your night was spent on the dancefloor. you were sure you picked up on a few of his moves, even. you teased him about it on your way to the back, after he declared that he was parched.

“no, not that kind of tired. i mean, like—” you gave a quick side glance to a group of girls to your left that had been glaring in your direction all night,“—tired of that.”

it wasn’t as though you were overly concerned with the other girls, but it was really starting to get on your nerves.

“then, let’s get out of here?”

sure, the night was still young, but something twinkled in yukhei’s eyes and you knew that the date was far from over. you looked over at the crowd, not being able to find kunhang. he’d live if you didn’t tell him a goodbye. you shrugged and tapped your nails against your clutch.

“get out here, where?” you asked reluctantly, wincing as you did so. the last thing you wanted to do in that moment was make an assumption, but you also wanted to set clear boundaries before the night went on.

yukhei raised his eyebrows. “i mean, like, we could go grab a burger or somethin’. i’m starving.” he chuckled, but you smiled at his response.

“alright. i’m good with that.”

you didn’t even notice yukhei grabbing your head and lacing your fingers with his own—it just felt so natural. he gently led you back to the main entrance and you couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles ever so slightly flexed underneath his suit and the way he styled his hair into perfect swirls with gel and the crystal clear confidence in his eyes and—

“oh, ho, so you ended up working up the nerve to ask y/n out after all?” there was no mistake about it, that voice belonged to your old history teacher. it was the voice you heard in your nightmares, after all. “gimme some skin, yukhei!”

the old man sat in front of the entrance, where the tickets had been checked at the beginning of the night. presumably to catch any drunk teenagers stumbling out of the gymnasium, he was the only chaperone outside of the main floor.

you furrowed your eyebrows together. yukhei awkwardly shook hands with the teacher. then, you remembered what yukhei had told you before when he gave you a ride to school. your lips parted slightly.

“you stole away one of my favourite students, you know that, ms. y/n?” he continued.

turning to yukhei, whose ears began to transform into a brilliant bubblegum colour, you said, “you weren’t joking about that?”

“why would i be joking?” yukhei chuckled.

you paused and shrugged. “i dunno. i thought it was just one of them cheesy things guys say. like you were just trying to make me swoon or somethin’.”

“what? aw, c’mon, sweets, i can do better than that!” yukhei exclaimed and poked your side, causing you to giggle and yelp.

your old history teacher rolled your eyes at the two of you. “just go on, go home!” he began shooing the two of you away like some puppies.

yukhei continued leading you out of the building, only until you stopped in the middle of the parking lot when you heard a familiar song. it was unmistakable, you would have recognized the record from miles away. he froze, noticing the way you had done the same.

“are you alright?” he stepped forward, reaching out to touch your arm.

you felt a little silly, but you said it anyway. “they’re playing my favourite song. you think we could. . .?” you trailed off, hoping he would agree.

there wasn’t a guy you knew that absolutely detested the beach boys. sicheng whined like he was in pain every time you put one of their records one. you had to basically hide all of their music from your brother, taking them away from the main living room shelf in fear that he would eventually trash them one day. yukhei pressed his lips together, listening to the song—clearly he was no exception.

“you’re into these fools, too?” he teased.

yukhei began stripping himself of his suit jacket, placing it over your shoulders and you immediately revelled in the warmth and faint scent of his cologne on the fabric. the night had fully set in and a dull chill kissed your bare skin. under the moonlight, the man looked immaculate.

you scoffed. “they have good music!” and that they did, but it was something about the group that made you sway in place and felt like you were high on love.

“why don’t we just dance here?”

the parking lot was empty save for the two of you and the countless of cars. even the streets were dead silent and the only sounds in the air were the beach boys telling you to not worry and the soft rustling of the leaves. then, there was yukhei. his same damn charming smirk that seemed to have already captured your heart, but was not nearly as powerful as the thoughts he spilled out into words for you on paper.

you automatically wrapped your arms around his neck and his hands found a place on your waist, like the two of you had done this millions of time before in another life.

dear y/n,

you are the stars.

yukhei.

#neowritingsnet #neowriters #nct-writers #nct fic #lucas x reader #nct au #nct imagine #wayv imagines #lucas imagine #yukhei x reader #wayv x reader #wayv fanfic #nct scenarios #kpop fanfic #kpop au #— EIGHTEEN FOREVER .#i had to repost ughh

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alias-b · 3 years

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sins of my youth. 020

Billy Hargrove x OC! Evie Fenny~ Also posted to my AO3

Summary: It was common knowledge that Billy Hargrove hated Hawkins. Hated Cherry Lane. Even loathed the strange girl next door. Evie Fenny wasn’t too fond of the chaotic Cali transfer either. An awful high school tradition sparks a chain of events that changes everything, ultimately bringing two frayed souls together.

A/N: Hello everyone. Thanks for clicking in to read. Billy and Evie continue to explore their new relationship together. Max's fourteenth birthday party marks a change for the teens, reminding them that danger isn't too far off. TW: Neil being Neil. Mentions of abuse. Something close to an almost assault/abduction off screen near the end. Light mentions of Pica & fatphobia. Sexual themes

***My tag list is wide open, just shoot me a msg to join it! Chat with me about the chapter if you have the time! Enjoy! xoxo

Chapter 20: Rose Tint My World

“Hold still, I’ll poke your eye again.”

“I can’t breathe, you’re killing me.” Came a sniffled whine.

“Such a baby. You asked.”

“I said I was curious after you put the gunk on my nails!”

“That gunk was a great color on you. You whine just like your big brother.” Carol had Max’s face clamped in her grip as she applied mascara. “Don’t blink, you'll smear it.”

“Evie, she’s killing me,” Max lamented aloud. “This is not worth it.” Evie just laughed, setting a bowl of pretzels aside. Carol flicked a mirror up to let Max see her handiwork. “Whoa...It’s not terrible.” She gruffed in a mumble, tilting her head to see each angle. "Kinda like Madonna."

“I’ll take it.” Carol stole some M&Ms from another dish as they shared a spot on Heather’s fuzzy carpet. A movie rolled on in the corner TV.

Max about howled when Heather came in from the bathroom, face covered in green.

“Monster!”

“It’s a face-mask!” Heather planted her hands on her hips, prompting more laughter. “You’ll be more into them once your body really changes.”

“Girls are way scarier than boys.” Max poked at her blushed cheek which had Carol smacking her hand away. Evie was draped across the bottom of the bed in her robe and nightie, half-watching the TV. “Can you do a zombie make-up?”

Carol gave a snort.

“I can do anything. kid.”

“Eves, you want another piece of pizza?” Heather crossed with the box.

“I’m so full.” Evie shook her head.

“You had like one piece.”

“I ate a big lunch. And lots of pretzels.” Evie snatched the pretzel bowl again for good measure. Truthfully, her appetite had been up and down lately. Mostly down. What with the pangs in her stomach that always passed and… “You sound like my mother.”

“She was...extra peppy at the salon today. My mom and I got our monthly trim.”

“Probably some guy she’s seeing, it’ll pass and another will come. Men are like Kleenex to her. Soft, strong, and disposable.” Evie shrugged to pluck up a magazine.

“Hey,” Max began as Carol fussed over her, “so I didn’t want to make a thing of it, but my mom keeps insisting. My birthday party is coming. She and Neil saved so I could have it just at the roller rink and...they said I could invite whoever I wanted. But, I can’t ask the guys to come. So I figured I’d ask El. She’s really cool. But, maybe if you guys wanted to come? You can bring boys and pretend you’re not even at my party if it’s not your thing. I just-”

“Max, we’d love to come.” Heather piped up first. “Evie and I rule the rink too.”

“I look very cute in skates,” Carol agreed with a twitching smirk. “I'm in. I’ll bring Tommy, he sucks and he’ll fall down a bunch. We'll pretend we ran into each other so your stepdad can get the stick out of his ass.”

“Billy has to go too cause Neil says it’s a family event.” Max turned to Evie. “I think he’d be happier with you there.”

“I think Billy and I both are fine being there for you. I had my fourteenth at the rink too. It’ll be fun.” Evie beamed, legs up to sway idly. “Plus we haven’t met the Chief’s kid. She’s home-schooled, right?”

“Yeah, she might be joining us in school next year.” Max stayed still for Carol’s brush. “Depends. She was uh...adopted under weird circumstances. You’ll like her. I taught her how to do that felting thing because of you and she made this funny one of her dad.”

“I’ll bet Hopper loved that.” Evie winked.

“He’s kind of a babe in like a scruffy, rugged way,” Carol remarked. "Strong mountain man type."

“Ew. He’s so old.” Max reeled back to laugh.

“I’m just saying! I like a man in uniform. He rocks the khaki.”

“The moms in town do eat him up.” Heather shrugged, joining Evie on the bed with a handful of candy. “We all have our strange crushes. I like high cheek-bones. Guys with a little Bowie. Evie? You got one?”

“Gia Carangi even if she isn’t modeling any more, I love her face.” Evie was flicking pages without looking. Howls from the TV went ignored through the chatter.

“I called that. Fenny being into ladies. Try Iman.” Carol winked which earned her a look as if she hadn’t planted a kiss on Evie in a fit of rage.

“People say Billy’s pretty like a girl.” Max had added which got the other girls giggling.

“I like this one, we’re so keeping her.” Carol got up to root for a bag of chips, popping them open. “Like the zombie face better?”

“I still look too pretty.” Max appeared more goth than zombie.

“You are pretty. Deal with it. We redheads stick together.” Carol stole Evie’s magazine. “Let us know when the party is, we’ll be there.”

Max looked at the three older girls squished together on Heather’s bed. Chattering and supporting. Happy to have her around.

A bright smile touched her face for the first time since Neil Hargrove walked into her home.

** ** **

Most days, all it felt like was floating. Floating through her house. Through Hawkins. Up and down streets. Through school. A stunning illusion she pulled like wool over her dark eyes.

A woman in rippling silks walking endless halls toward a great, cherry red door at the end, but the door gets farther away and she's thrilled to continue on even still. Feather wings glittering to unfold from her back because heaven's light is beyond the door. Crystalline eyes with their hold. Waiting for her. The sky awaits her with caressing clouds. Opulent gold sun rays and twinkling stars when the world lies down.

Evie knew she was too big for her wings most days. Too heavy to leave the Earth.

Knew in her beating heart of hearts that was the first thing people think when they see her. This magnificent soul with drive and neon and talent reduced to a single shrewd glance. And they don't think twice until she's something vaguely sexual. Something marketable you can package and process and sell to the last drop.

Easier to stomach something uncomely if you can slide into it ruthlessly to rut. They always come like animals, wailing as a banshee would to get off better than they ever will in their small lives. They eat it up. Cover it in sweat and regret and blame.

These things that hang as little weights on her heartstrings swinging back and forth. They make her not want to attempt extending those wings to fly. Fear of heads shaking in judgement. Fear of looking uglier. More foolish for even trying. Poor thing.

All because of one glance that couldn't be bothered to see worth in another human life. Sometimes Evie wanted to be skinny not because of beauty, but because she'd get a privilege pass to exist in this world.

They think she shouldn't dress the way she does. She's probably lazy and self loathing because of added pounds. She has no real aspirations or means to achieve them. Those eyes that watch her eat. That shift away before they decide on another seat because the one open next to her just isn't right. They glare because of the extra room she might take up. Even sharing a few cordial words with fat girls seemed to be a task.

Evie always notices and does the polite thing pretending she doesn't. She knows what her body looks like, no need to point out the obvious.

Strange, how these snap judgements, these eyes that don't look twice; can villainize a body utterly. A body. Flesh, bone, and muscle. We're all made in heaven's image. All destined for paths we seek to control. Superiority should have been an illusion. But no, too much or too little, your worth dips low. Fetishes and internalized hatred for things that were shaped and colored differently. Blame.

But, some days, when the wind soars just right...just strong enough...Evie can spread and illuminate. See the births and deaths of a million stars. Drop the little weights to feel the winds between her fingers. In her curls. In her wings. Feel her feet leave the floor for just a few fleeting seconds.

The fleeting seconds of soaring always seem so worth it against a world of unsightly aches. Against snap judgements she can toss back to live in a flower petal haze.

Evie tried hard to live in those moments when they flashed into her. Spotlights. Butterflies delicately landing on her flesh to open and close their stained glass wings for kisses. Evie felt crushed utterly in the most decadent way.

Billy's soft lips on her neck to get lost in the pulse. Deft fingers that would push up her clothing as he moved in her. Eyes that wanted to see her. All of her. The prayers he could whisper against heating skin.

A lot could be said about him. But, Billy was always happy to see her and that alone was air spinning into gold. His eyes would light up. Lips twitching. She could hear the single beat that his heart skipped. Even if they didn't speak, they felt this awareness for each other in the vicinity. Truly magic.

Those eyes. That love of a face. Always staring pointedly to read her up and down. Always plucking the weights from her heart by listening. Always unafraid to touch her. Evie hoped she returned that. She really did.

Fleeting seconds began to linger between them. Seeping slow and saccharine as fresh pouring honey.

Sneaking away on walks while he let her hold his hand. Flirtation against school lockers that ended in several 'just one more' kisses. Double dates to the movies with Tommy and Carol. Sitting separately to make out.

Driving up near Lover’s Lake to kiss in a parked Camaro while the sun laid itself down to sleep. Fumbling playfully to undress and explore. Watching the construction of a coming mall with Slurpees from the gas station. Tongues and lips colored all artificial cherry and strawberry.

Evie would stretch her wings completely. Let Billy admire them until the world was all satin rose-tinted. She could forget her urges and worries and insecurities. All together. This was fine.

She was fine. More then fine.

He so liked to admire her wings. Pleasure crushed in as she moaned. Let his fingers explore contours and notches untouched before. Billy would take those prayers on his lips and drape them over her body. Spell them between fleshy thighs. Pulling more fleeting seconds for himself too.

They could roll around under sheets and not worry about anything else. Have conversations that always felt silly and wonderful and weighted because they both mattered to someone so ardently. That alone was an ocean both could sink into.

Something beautiful to behold. The real vision behind the great red door. Your soul mattering.

Evie was in a bubble with Billy Hargrove. A stupid, dopey look on her face when Mona settled dinner down one evening. Steam rising from a huge pot.

“Going out later?” Evie began to create sound or she'd be lost. "You colored your hair brown again."

“Needed another change. Ah, I'm going out just with Karen and Claudia. Dessert and wine night. I asked Susan but that poor thing keeps standing me up. Did you finish Max’s gift for her party?” Mona scooped up huge portions in a bowl that Evie would only be prodding at.

“Yeah, it’s set. Turned out perfect. She’s not much for jewelry but I think a personalized tie dye shirt will be fun. Might look cool while skateboarding. I also have that goody bag of sweets for her to fill up on we made.” Evie reminded herself to pick up her spoon. Took a few bites.

“You’re not scarfing it down like usual, you love my crawfish soup.”

“It’s delicious, I just had a big lunch.” A lie. Evie pressed herself to eat quicker, tearing a piece of fresh bread to chew. Thing was, she wanted to eat. She wanted to eat so badly despite the sickness welling inside her. The heavy ache made it a task. Mona eyed her daughter there. “My stomach's in knots a lot, just school stuff.”

“Well, you are a senior.” Mona pushed her own soup around. “I haven’t been around as much as I’d like to be. Just the salon and I met-”

“I get it.” Evie’s lips spread in a flash, not wanting her mother to finish that sentence. “I’m with friends a lot and I keep busy with my music and the cat. I even wrote a new song.”

“That’s two this week, you. Strumming along blissfully.” Mona gushed. “Whatever has you all creative and dewy, chase it.” Silverware clicked around and Evie stared at her dish. A broader smile crossed.

"I will."

“What’s it called?”

“Ocean Eyes.”

Evie could be pretty transparent in the early stages of a relationship.

These short weeks in with Billy. Lyrics flooded free. Sometimes he liked to watch her write and strum when they hung out. Trips to the lounge where she worked other nights got him a full show, but not of her original stuff. Songs marched forth.

“Ocean Eyes.”

“Cupid and Psyche.”

“Honey Stardust.”

“Neon-Tinted Hearts.”

Rock. Pop. Lush and obscene with her glowing heartstrings. She wrote them for Fredrick too when they got together.

“Doll Joints.”

“Lollipop Lolita.”

“Prince Charming.”

After dinner, Evie stole a notebook filled with her every sinful lyrical confession of her time with Fredrick Bowers. Burnt it in an empty pot out back until Billy wandered out the back steps of his place. Asking her if she was trying to set the neighborhood on fire.

“How can I help?” He’d snarked while the sky went all pretty peach fuzz. Evie just laughed and never explained what she’d burnt or why it felt this cathartic to watch the smoke rise toward a falling sun. She figured maybe this was the day she'd stop eating foreign and sharp objects. She could do it. She was happier. Lighter. It had to stop.

It had to. She couldn't think about this haze shattering, it hurt too deep.

Billy used the flame to light his cigarette comically and kissed her before inhaling the smoke.

“Can we take a drive? Or walk if you’re low on gas?”

“Let’s walk, I got some cash doing my odd jobs for the damn neighbors, but I need it to last a bit longer with Max’s birthday. Got her this new board she was too chickenshit to beg our parents for.”

“Aren’t you a darling big brother?” Evie crossed her arms to follow him when the flame dwindled low. They went around the house to the front, started down the street. “Iris has some hours for me that next Saturday night.”

“You going to tell your mom about the secret job thing?” Billy inhaled and let smoke billow up into the afternoon light. They walked along Cherry Lane. Not touching. Counting steps while their shadows cast and the streetlights came up. A brisk night loomed, spring begging to creep through the month of March.

“I figured I could this summer. Around graduation. Just say I got something bigger since I’m eighteen and Iris can get me steadier hours. Gigs day or night. Maybe I’ll get to host a couple more drag shows. I miss those damn girls, the funniest performers know. I'll just let my mom down easy about the receptionist thing, hopefully she’s fine with it. Make it sound like I took initiative cause I'm a big girl.”

“And your grand singer plans?” He liked to ask about her and hang upon the syllables.

“Still up in the air. I’m taking the year off to work and write. Try for a talent agent or manager. I can record maybe...try to get airtime. There’s this contest thing, they do it every year and the winners always do well. But, I’m honestly too afraid to ask my mom about it just yet. I’m saving though here and there.” Evie beamed. “You? Summer and on.”

She was clearly asking if he was sticking around for summer.

“Odd lawn, house, and car jobs are getting me by. This whole street is a mess and the moms in town like to watch me work."

"Yikes."

"It means better pay and tips. I’m taking Heather up on her lifeguard offer this summer. I'll save up, Dad's already going to be asking for rent when I graduate."

"Shit."

"Yeah. Don’t wanna bank on that mall they’re opening with all the other little shits trying to get jobs first.” Billy leaned back to let the cooler air kiss his face, sighing before he tossed his smoke out.

Evie came to the end of the street near the forest, swayed around a streetlamp like she was in an old Hollywood flick. Dreaming long and endless. Sometimes she worried so often that she wasn't living. Just dreaming it all away. Maybe a center line was possible.

Maybe she'd be able to soar over it all.

Billy waited for her to swing back around it before he pressed into her for a slow, lingering kiss. Even better, maybe they both were sharing a dream. Making it of something stronger.

“So, how am I doing?” He joked lighter. Evie gripped the lamp to stay level, head tilting. “Two weeks in, almost three. This whole situation.”

“Situation.” Evie mused, slyly hiding half her face behind the lamp to hum. The shadowy starlet of a femme fatale she loved to watch on television with her mother. Glinting. Dangerous. "This whole situation?" She lingered to sigh it even slower.

"You and me." He'd sounded out, drawing nearer. "Us..." Evangeline, always the playful nymph, flitted off playfully. Spinning the other way to walk along so Billy came to her side easily.

“I think you’re doing fine." She tapped her chin. "What about me? Evaluate my performance.”

“Ah. In a sea of slithery tadpoles, you’re a goddamn firecracker.” He’d laughed and Evie followed, covering her lips with one hand.

“I don’t know how any of that correlates or makes sense, but I’ll take it.”

“Neither do I. Just made it up to see you do that. The scrunchy thing you do when you’re too happy or upset with me.” Billy’s nose crinkled as he grinned there. Evie came up to peck his freckles.

“You’re a total sap, Hargrove.” Evie continued, hands clasped behind her back before she inhaled the air. “Let’s hit that mini mart nearby. I’m craving a Dr. Pepper. Buy you a soda. It’s my turn.”

“No, it isn’t. You’re just being too nice again,” Billy remarked, feet shifting slower as they crossed the street. “I can’t take you fancy places.”

“I don’t need to go to fancy places, I just like hanging out with you wherever.” Evie turned her head to see him. “We’re both poor, we make due. Summer will be better. We can just work and...figure this out. I like it right now though, so don’t worry because I know how you shiver in those boots.”

She pondered it.

“Do you like it?” Evie offered quieter, earning Billy’s eyes searching her expression. Lip twitching, he tossed his arm around her. Brought Evie taut into his frame with an easier grin so they could keep walking toward the whirling, illuminated sign in the distance.

“Yeah, I like it.” He decided. “I like you plenty. What's not to like, Evangeline?” His free hand gestured out and Evie beamed to point at that darling face. Her Eros. Encouraging her wings to unfold without pressure.

"Wow, you're getting better and better at that." A beat. "Making me blush without rolling my eyes."

"Please, Angel, your knees quiver every time I hit you with this smile. You might as well toss off the panties for me." For good measure, he flashed it and Evie hid from his absolute burning charm. Cheeks felt that fire bloom and billow.

A car hurried past them. Sweeping budding flowers and loose leaves about. Delicate, they danced. Trees wobbled back and forth to the wind picking up. Evie stayed looking away to smile that time. Knew this wind would carry her easily.

"Did you have a best friend back in California?" She moved her arm around his back as they went.

"I don't know. Guess I had a few in orbit."

"Am I your best friend here?" She piped back up and Billy slowed to glance, chuckling.

"I thought you and I were avoiding labels."

"It's different." Came the protest.

"No, it isn't." He paused. "Heather's your best friend."

"Yeah, but I figured I could have more than one. Perfectly carved places for each." Evie shifted in front of him, hands smoothing up Billy's shoulders to clasp fingers round his neck. Blue eyes glittered to search.

"You trying to push some admission outta me, Fenny?"

Lashes batted with all the innocence they could hold.

"Just admit it, Hargrove," she pulled him down for a lip lock, pecking his jaw and cheeks until he broke to laugh and hold her at bay. One brow lifted. "It'll be our dirty little secret."

"Fine. Only cause you twisted my arm about it and it gets you hot. You are my very," he palmed her bottom to make her gasp in one motion, "very best friend. Happy?" Billy stole a kiss when she was still dumbfounded, molding their frames together.

"Maybe I am." Evie sighed, sounding too raw and honest about it. She came out to see his eyes there. Tried to read them. Billy blinked to say something else.

“So, you're already thinking about graduation and summer, huh? Moving quick.”

“I’m optimistic is all. It’s a rare thing with me so I'm just enjoying it. I’m not used to happy and good.” Evie got cheeky to hide anything else, winking over her shoulder before she went inside the tiny store.

Fluorescent lights washed out too many colorful packages. They picked cold cans of soda and bright yellow packs of Jujyfruit candies to curb a sweet craving. Billy gripped the paper bag in one fist and Evie snatched his free hand when they got outside.

“C’mon!” She picked up the pace. “Let’s catch the bus to the other side of town.”

“Billy Hargrove doesn’t take the bus. It’s all full.” He’d complained, still rushing after her to the stop.

“Try something new.” Evie was giggling, tugging at him to get on.

With the bus full of residents leaving work, they took some standing room with a group up front. Fingers curled into the handles above, swaying closer together due to the rocking and crowding. A hard turn sent Evie into Billy’s chest, her hand sprang out over his shoulder to catch the bar just above his head.

“Trying to jump my bones in public, little Miss Fenny?” He feigned a look of awe, brows lifting playfully. His free arm slipped around the small of Evie’s back, bracing her there into his marble frame. “You know how much easier it is if you just ask, Angel?”

Evie wanted to scoff. Wanted to scrunch that annoyed look she was known for. Wanted to send him to the floor and kiss him for miles and miles. But, she just stood there in the dim, flickering bus lights. Watched his expression relax. Not really breathing until she reminded herself.

Billy seemed to remember as well. At the back and forth shifting of the vehicle, they squished together. Forcing looks away to see the path again. Billy pushed his thigh further between her legs. Both of them idly rubbing together now. Evie felt the heat crawl up her cheeks, lungs tremoring. Billy’s fist holding the bag shifting a little lower on her back, firm and scalding hot.

She peered up at his jawline. Looked away. Felt Billy’s eyes wander back after before he flickered elsewhere. Denim pushed against denim. Billy hitched this breath as if he might whimper. Swallowed it down. Hips swaying back and forth and back again. A thumb pushed deftly into her back. Evie shifting in, lips parting. Trembling as Billy turned his head to see her centimeters from him.

“This is our stop.” She’d said in his ear. Leaning flush into him to pull the cord down. Billy inhaled the amber. Brushed his nose into her own while she came back out.

“Don’t wanna stop.” His freckles looked especially glowy outlined in a rare blush. The bus skidded and Evie veered back with some amusement. Brown eyes casting Billy up and down before she skipped off in a hurry, leaving him to chase her because he’d always chase her. Bag still wrinkled around Billy’s fist, he caught up with her. Under the streetlamps surrounded by dancing moths.

“We near Lover’s Lake?”

“Yeah, the park nearby. Figured some loitering would do us good.” Evie stepped across the grass and sand. Listened to the dark structures creak. “C’mon. I love the swings.”

She plopped back into one, legs kicking some before Billy joined her. He cracked one can of soda to offer it, feet shifting over the sand to sway closer together. Chains creaking.

They clicked drinks and guzzled fizz before Evie snagged the candy out. Stealing a few chewy pieces. The bright box got passed back and forth during a comfortable silence. Billy watched Evie as she observed the moon there.

“Do you know any constellations?” She’d asked quieter, forcing him out of the daze. Curls caught the illumination with stars dotting her dark eyes.

“Not really.” He took the candy back as she swallowed a piece.

“You see that crooked line? Those four little guys, they call that...Salem’s Lot. And...” Evie touched her lips, pointing again. “Those two bright boys there. Called Shawshank. Oh, and that one-”

“These are Stephen King references.” He pushed her.

“No, I’m very smart and they’re real-life constellations. Listen and learn, Billy boy.”

“So, are you gonna call that grouping, The Shining or The Overlook?” He pointed to a cluster and Evie snickered.

“Obviously that’s Carrietta White’s Constellation. Duh. Cause it looks like a rain of blood.” Evie snorted and Billy joined her, heads pressing together as they giggled like school children.

“You know she wears a crushed red velvet dress in the book? Not pink as seen in the movie.” Billy stretched out, finishing his soda.

“You know she’s fat in the book, too?” Evie winked at him, eyed the trash, and tried to toss her can at it. Missing badly, it smacked the rim and fell in the sand with a clatter. “Damn it!” Billy laughed at her louder.

“Don’t try for a career on the court, Evie.” He watched her pout as she plucked it up to throw it away properly. “Now, watch the master work.” He aimed as she sat down. One deft hand reeled back and launched it only to have Evie’s palm smack it easily the other direction. Almost falling out of her seat cackling, she got the candy pushed into her arm before he gawked and went to get it.

“Oh,” she kept up without air, “I thought you were the master? You should have seen your face!”

“Yeah, yeah.” He grumbled, dunking it in the can with an echoing clank. For some cheery consolation, she offered the rest of the box to him. Tiny candy pieces fell into his palm before he pushed them all into his mouth at once, eyes lifting to the sky again. Billy made a face and turned to go to push her swing. “Gimme another constellation.”

“Hmm.” Evie held the chains, began to swing properly at his coaxing. Felt like they were in a secret garden together. Water rippling against the air distantly. Cold chill not bothering either of them. “Those two stars. The little one and the big guy. See?”

Billy gripped the chains, keeping her swing up against him to follow the gaze

“That’s Neverland. Second star to the right and straight on till morning.” She snickered again as Billy pushed her forward. “Bet I can beat you there. I’ll jump from the swing.”

“You’re on.” Billy stole the seat next to her, both of them pumping higher. Curls fluttering. Laughing. Happy because they were together and that mattered.

“I’m going to overthrow Pan and Hook. Become the most fantastic Lost Girl with a siren song to command the island and you’ll write your stories.”

“Think so?” Billy pushed himself higher. Actually thought he might fly with Evie there.

“Yes! You’ll tell the greatest stories ever heard through the land and they’ll echo back down here to be loved too.” She proclaimed that. Not having heard Billy’s stories, but believing what was in his heart.

Time slowed. Wild laughter crackled toward the sky. Utter sparks as they jumped together and collided to roll around the sand. Evie was still alight with joy under him, hair splayed everywhere as Billy snapped up to check her over, hovering. Evie’s giggling tapered off against the night air. She stared up at him. Framed in twinkling stars. He said something she didn’t catch.

“You have beautiful eyes,” Evie sounded out slower, lost in the endless crystalline blue. “Did you mean it?”

“Mean, what?”

“What you said when we were lying in bed together. You said I was the best thing about this place. People never say things like that. Not to girls like me. I believed it when you said it though and it was easy too.” Evie skimmed her fingers over his jacket. Watched Billy’s eyes flicker to recall that moment and the clouds he floated upon like lily-pads in a pond.

Billy swept down. Planted a hot kiss that was all lips. Swelled her mouth when he pulled out. He left Evie fluttered and came to her ear.

“That was a yes.” He pushed up, eyes too sly. “By the way.” Evie took a hand when he offered one and got pulled to her feet, bodies stumbling together. They tried to brush the sand off fabric.

“Do you think about that night? The dance, I mean. Not...the sex. Well, I guess it’s okay to think about the sex actually.” She blushed there when Billy’s lip quirked. His fingers still wrapped around her wrist. “Before all that went down with Brock. It was-”

“Not terrible.” He finished.

“Not at all. The first part of the night, sometimes I wish we could go back and-”

“Rewrite it.” Billy looked around, giving Evie a tug. He pulled her up on the metal roundabout, painted red and blue that was chipping away. “Hold on.” Another smile had curled as he braced to get it spinning.

“Billy!” Evie jerked to hold tight to the bars. Hair flying up. Curls coiled out. Fire billowing gracefully. “What are you doing!”

“Turning back the clock,” he charged and jumped on with her, wobbling to hold something, "to redo it.” Evie grabbed for his coat. Fisting the fabric when they locked eyes. Wind rushed in a thrill with memories tumbling together and apart.

Her wings sprang forth.

Billy made Evie the still point to his turning world. For just a moment. Knew, if anything, that meeting her was something truly important. An unseen force that would twist his heart forever.

Spinning round and round. He recalled the metallic confetti dancing and the way the music pulsed. The carousel began to slow, both teens holding the bars and each other to say level.

Slower, Evie pecked a kiss upon his lips to mirror the first. Unable to come out far, Billy was already closing the distance for the second. Trying to pay her back with a thousand sweet kisses.

Cheers rang and fireworks burst. She remembered it all too. How dizzy and still the world seemed to be. How it hushed for her too sweetly. Billy’s hands on her face, cradling delicately to angle the second kiss a little deeper. They felt the metal clink to stillness under them and inched back out.

“I want to go home with you,” Evie said the words she wished she had that night. Huge dark eyes glittering. She found his lips again. Not worried about air or what the future held for them. Lost on a rosy haze and perfectly fine for these stolen fleeting seconds. “Can we go?” Billy searched her, thumb sweeping a circle into her jaw. He smiled fully.

“Only if we can take the bus again.”

** ** ** **

“Happy Birthday!” Evie gushed, offering a gift to a small pile. Max had her arms around her before she’d gotten a chance to turn. One hand shifted to the shorter girl’s back. Music whirled with a campy light show, made the horribly patterned carpets glow. “Carol and Heather are on their way in. Tommy’s around but he won’t hang near the table.”

“Neil’s going to be late. Work stuff.” This explained why Max’s smile was so bright. Evie nudged her chin, head cocking. “You brought your own skates.”

“I know it’s dorky, but they’re my babies.” Evie gestured to the red skates swung over one shoulder. “Evie Fenny doesn’t rent her skates.”

“That’s El, come meet her,” Max pulled Evie off after she got one wave at Susan behind the table setting up. “Billy’s grabbing stuff from the car. He drove us.”

El Hopper was a tiny thing. Almost like a little bird compared to Hopper’s hulking frame behind her. She peered around and seemed at instant ease upon seeing Max.

“El, this is my neighbor, Evie," Max introduced them, "she’s cool.”

El made this gesture like she had a needle and poked at her hand.

“Yes!” Max got it, tugging Evie’s arm. “She taught me the felting thing.”

“Hope the sharp objects weren’t a bother in your house, Chief Hopper.” Evie perked up at Jim with a sheepish expression. “I should have asked you, I know it might seem a little dangerous.”

He actually laughed at that. If only she knew the danger these kids had gotten into prior.

“Believe me, crafts are a welcomed change.”

“El, nice to meet you. I’m Evie. Max talks about you all the time.” Evie held out her hand and the young girl looked shocked. “Good things.”

A slower smile crossed. She took Evie’s hand to shake it. Awkward about her navigation but trying to take everything in. Clearly never been to a party like this one. Kids of various ages circled the floor on skates. Laughing. Holding hands.

“Max...talks about you too. I like your hair.” El mirrored. Peered to Hopper with a pleased expression he matched. She offered Max a wrapped gift. Evie grinned and touched her curls, pulled up into two high, rounded buns.

“C’mon, let me show you the table they’re setting up.” Max took El’s wrist to usher her off.

“Are you...staying to skate?” Evie turned to the Chief.

“El’s, ah, not used to crowds. She came from some unfortunate circumstances. I’d like to stay close. First party. Maybe I’m hovering.” He pushed his hands into his pockets. Not in uniform. Evie beamed a little.

“She’s young, you’re worried. It’s sweet, actually. You’re just being a good dad.” The smile seemed to dither in her eyes. Even when Jack was married to Mona, he wasn't always around. Work and trips kept him busy, but he stayed to close to Evie the moment he arrived home with his little gifts and endless stories. “Don’t come running over if she falls, we got her.”

“Yeah, uh, if you could keep an eye on El when you see her around. That would mean a lot to me. I know you babysat the Henderson kid. El doesn’t need a babysitter, she’s just… This is new for her.” Jim gestured. Digging for a smoke he couldn’t have in the immediate area.

“Heather, Carol, and I will keep an eye out.”

“Carol?” He chuckled. “Perkins?”

“Oh, yeah, we made up. Funny thing.”

“Almost as funny as you hanging out with the Hargrove boy through winter.” He quirked his brow.

“What can I say, Chief...” Evie shrugged. “I’m...branching out.”

As if on cue, Billy paced in a side door. Bag clutched under one arm. He caught Evie’s glance instantly. Both of them locked in and back out on cue. Blue eyes shifted up and down because she was wearing his denim jacket over a little lacy, floral top tucked into her jeans.

Neil would arrive and they had an act to keep up. Ignoring each other.

“I’ll sit far." Jim offered. "Pretend I’m not here.”

She about cackled, lost in thought still.

“I’ll just pretend you’re my real dad,” Evie winced at herself, saw him pause with some subtle awe, “oof, I’m not sure where that came from. Ouch. Okay. Walking away now. Sorry, Chief.”

“Evie.” He eased a gentle hand toward her. “What I said. If there’s...anything going on. You can talk to me. On or off the record.”

“Yeap. Right. I’m okay. I’m...I’m gonna...skate. Yeah. Sorry. Oh, my…” Evie whirled to hurry off, cringing all the way to the table. “I think I just had a mental break.”

“What?” Heather had chuckled.

“Nothing. Time to skate?” Came Evie’s begging. Agreement followed.

Hopper made himself scarce with a cigarette and plate of cheese fries in the corner. Billy plopped himself into a chair behind the decorated table, looking disinterested. Not catching Evie’s eyes while she sat with the girls to put her skates on. Just watched Susan set out plates for pizza and cake.

Evie went out with Heather first for a lap, both of them giggling and pulling little stunts to show off for Tommy who was on the ground as Carol pulled at him. Max jumped over his leg, cackling before she tried to get El to come out with them.

“Kinda reminds me of us. They’re too cute.” Heather quipped, whirling to skate backward. They joined the younger girls, hoping to get El relaxed and away from the wall she seemed to cling to. Every turn, Evie shot Billy a look. Got his lips quirking before he ruefully was peering away.

“Do you want to skate, Billy?” Susan had asked after a beat, weary of the music already. Bit of a glittery disco mess. That same dreamy rose haze in the air.

“About as much as I want to give my old man a sponge bath, Susan.” Billy frowned for effect and dropped it when she actually laughed at him. It was an easier thing for them to talk without Neil’s shadow.

“Well, the offer is open if you want to.” Susan thought to tell him Evie looked beautiful today when she caught him staring at her for the third time but decided not to be obvious. Not yet.

“You’re supposed to tell me I’m being inappropriate and I’m going to send your only daughter down with me.” He recited easily.

“I was your age once, Billy, I know how to laugh still.” Susan seemed surprised at the revelation herself. Slowly, she took a seat next to him. Not leaving another chair as a buffer like she usually did. “It might not be so bad. Her following you, you know, after this. When she’s older. She still looks up to you.”

It became clear what Susan was asking him. Max would resent her one day down the line. For the choices she made. The things she couldn’t stop no matter how hard she tried. Maybe Billy and Max didn’t always get along, but he’d be a safer place for her than whatever was leftover in that house. Susan would always be under Neil Hargrove, but she could ensure her daughter would not be. One day.

Billy leaned forward on his elbows, palms rubbing. He felt for his ring and remembered it was hidden under Evie’s dipping sweetheart neckline. He didn’t say anything, but met Susan’s eyes.

“Evie’s been a good friend to her.” Susan crossed her legs and sat back to watch the girls laugh. Slowly easing into the conversation. El wobbled, holding hands with Max and Evie to gain some speed. Heather was trying to help Carol steady poor Tommy. “Don’t you think so?”

“I haven’t noticed.” Billy turned his head aside.

“She’s very pretty. Kind. That’s all I’m saying. She and her mother, they’re nice neighbors to have on Cherry.”

“Jesus, Susan, why don’t you date them both?” Billy shot up to go to the snack counter. Susan ghosted this smile after him, hands clasping. “Cheese fries. Jalapenos...Extra jalapenos.” He got his plate and turned to see Chief Hopper’s cigarette glow red. “You got any more of those? My pack is out and they don't have a machine in this joint.”

Jim just eyed him.

“I’m legal.” Billy puffed before a stick flicked across the table. “Camels. Unfiltered. Disgusting. Are you a flannel hobo of some kind with those?”

The Chief gawked at him.

“Don’t you smoke Reds? Baby’s first cigarette.”

Billy matched him. Offended.

“I’m smoking with the big boys, Hop. You should try it.”

“You in a place to complain, kid?” Jim reached to take it back before Billy swiped, lighting up to puff.

“No, sir.” His lighter snapped shut. “You unable to cut the cord or is dressing like a lumberjack to hang out at a 70s roller disco a hobby?”

“Haven’t seen you down at the station in a while. Few months, in fact. Turning over a new leaf this year?” Jim remarked instead, leaning forward on his elbows.

“Aw. You miss me or something? Your boys finally get tired of chasing me down? Or trying to.” Billy gave this comedic pout, head turning to eye Evie again. Graceful swan that she was out there. His jacket hanging off her shoulders, exposing that neck. Little wisps of curls swayed about from her space buns decorated with matching glittery star barrettes, loose hair framing her face. Brown eyes flicked up and he snatched his gaze away. “Guess I found something else to get into that isn’t trouble. You guys bore me down there, I like to be amused.”

“The real crime-stopper, boredom. Color me impressed and shocked.” Jim seemed to like that, eyes rolling. Billy puffed and swept a piece of tobacco from his mouth. “I guess whatever you’re doing, keep it up.” He watched Billy crunch on some salty jalapenos, plucking five gooey fries at once to swallow them down. Almost starved.

“I intend to.” Billy flicked his greasy fingers to his brow. “Chief.”

“William.”

Billy mumbled as he went off, finishing the smoke to flick it out a back door. Eyes shifting to watch the girls plus poor Tommy. El was already better than him.

“Man, I’m dying out here. Help me. I’ll tag you in.” Tommy scrambled up the sidewall and clung, out of breath. Freckles all dewy.

“You wanted to be a good boyfriend,” Billy cackled for good measure, "that'll teach you."

“Feed me a fry,” Tommy begged over the barrier.

“Fuck out of here, they’re mine. My dad will show soon so you can disappear to a corner and get your own damn fries.” To make it a point, Billy stood there and fed himself.

Behind Tommy, Max skidded and fell with Evie barely catching her. Both girls had gone down in a fit of giggling.

“We’re fine, go on!” Max waved to Heather and El ahead of them. Carol came to steal Tommy back as Billy craned to see his step-sister.

“You alright?” Evie was picking her up when Max’s shirt slipped closer to her pale shoulder, flashing a burst of purple there the size of a softball. “Oh, my god.” It slipped out before she could stop it.

“That’s-!” Max cut herself off and fixed her shirt. Spring was creeping and all she donned was long-sleeved and frumpy. Dressing almost like Susan. “I fell, you know, on my board.” Evie tried to give her the dignity of a look that said she believed it. Must have cracked. “Evie, it’s nothing. Don’t worry. Please.”

Dressing like Susan. Sounding like Billy.

“Max, my house is-”

“I know, but don’t… Don’t say anything. Not to Billy or my mom, ah… Neil’s here.” Max put her head down and skated around Evie to go away.

There was something particularly helpless about watching a young girl flee obediently to her monster. Evie wondered if this was what she looked like to Billy headed to Fredrick's place.

Small. Scared. Lost.

Neil Hargrove started with words. Lots of horrible words that whittled Max down to a hard pit. Then pushing. Then some grabbing. Then shoving. Into walls mostly.

The hit didn’t bruise Max. It was more of a swipe to make her go to her room for talking back. Whatever that meant to Neil. But, he was drunk and he caught her jaw with an open palm. That stayed red for the day until she snuck a pack of frozen peas, not wanting Susan or Billy to know.

But, the swipe sent her into the dining room table. Left the violet petals bursting under her skin. Evie lost the urge to skate and came out. Saw Billy’s eyes again and paused to help Heather usher El out for food.

“You’re a natural.” Evie complimented which earned a full smile. El opened her mouth to speak before Billy appeared in front of them.

“They’re making us sing.” He cocked his head, peering at El. “You’re the one with the funny name, aren’t you?”

“Jane. But,” she seemed to have trouble staring at him for more than three extended seconds and pointed to her chest, “El.” Red crept across her cheeks. Billy towered over her, cocking a wider grin to play up the fact that she was all blushy for a pretty older boy.

“El?” He raised one brow. “What’s the L stand for?”

“Ignore him.” Heather pulled the younger girl around Billy as he chuckled, pausing to see Evie. Her colorless expression.

“You okay?” He said it hard with a furrowed brow.

“Fine.” She tried to make it sound cold but it came out near silent. Head turned down as she flitted around him to join the party.

Neil, stiff and stoic, pressing his lips like he was at the damn DMV. Susan plastered a broader grin to dote on him after his long day, lingering close to his side as they set out pizza and readied the cake.

It was all so routine. Like getting your shots.

Pizza. Sing. Candles. Wish. Cake. Gifts. Thank you.

Billy and Evie took the farthest seats from each other. Played a game of glance and ignore that they’d made up on the spot. They both were either losing or winning.

“Strange,” Neil remarked as he pulled Max aside for another slice. “You and the high school girls.”

“Oh, I invited El too, she’s my age. I didn’t want to leave Evie out and the girls...they’re nice to me.”

“They don’t dress like nice girls.”

Heather and Carol both donned perfectly normal tees and jeans. Nothing would suffice for Neil Hargrove. Max shifted her cake around. No longer hungry for it.

“Maybe we’ll talk about the type of girl you should hang around at a later time. The Fenny girl is nice enough, even if her shirt is a little too...low. Dresses kinda tight. Bit of an odd one. She’s different. Her friends, well...I’m just not sure, Maxine.”

“Yes, sir.” She looked at her birthday cake like it was infested with worms. Carefully forced a bite and set it aside.

Max hung around. Smiled and thanked everyone after each birthday present. Even hugged Neil only cause he opened his arms at her. She said bye to El then Heather. Carol seemed to be turning in as well so Tommy went out back to get the car.

As the party went on and dwindled, Evie caught Billy’s eyes gesturing to the rental counter. He slipped around the corner into the many shelves and Evie turned back to see Max and Susan at the table. Neil seated in a chair not helping them clean up, eyes elsewhere. Casually, she skated around and got her arm snatched. A gasp snuffed against a pair of lips. Kisses hidden away from the world.

“Paid the kid a few coins and a threat to leave for ten minutes."

Music vibrated the shelves. Evie put her arms around Billy.

“I still have skates on.”

“Even better. I might have a thing for girls in red skates.” Billy was all hands, holding Evie steady. Pulling one leg around his hip. Pushing denim into denim. Hot friction might have done her in any other day.

“We are not hooking up with all the smelly rental skates.” Evie laughed into his lips, still pecking back and peering over her shoulder. She paused to see his eyes. Wanted to blurt what she’d seen on Max’s body. Even to Billy now, it felt wrong. So, she said something else.

“Hey, we should…keep an eye on your sister, you know. It’s her birthday. She’s...She needs her big brother.”

Billy huffed into her neck.

“Fine, fine, but you’ll regret not taking the adventure on here.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Evie shifted. “My feet hurt and we can make-out in my bed later.” She kissed his neck. “I’ll do that thing you like if you promise you went easy on the product down there.”

“Only dotted the gold crown. Scout’s honor.” Billy winked and she rolled her eyes. He peered out first. “Give it a second then follow.”

“Wait.” Evie thumbed her red lipstick from his mouth. “Now, shoo.” Billy licked his lips and snuck out. She waited a moment. Let the happy butterflies land in her stomach then followed. Pausing, her skates came off for more comfortable tennis shoes.

“Evangeline, do you need a ride home with us later?” Neil had asked.

“No, thank you, I was getting a ride with Carol now.” She smiled and looked for red hair to say her goodbyes. “Where’d Max go?” Evie collected her coat and Susan paused to peer around.

“She was here a second ago. Neil?” Hands dropped a stack of plates into the trash.

“Probably went to the bathroom.” He shrugged, squinting at all the moving lights that were making his head pound. “Billy, go find your sister.”

Billy seemed to notice the look on Evie’s face and feel the same chill before he hurried off without fighting. Susan looked through the sea of kids and teens meandering as Evie passed her to check the ajar side door.

"Max!" The one flickering light at the exit made her skin crawl. A cry echoed distantly followed by a dull crash in the dark. Like a bag of trash hitting the dumpster.

Evie dropped her skates to follow the hollowed-out sound. Exhaust swept up her nose and tires gave a harsh wail, horns sounding while a faraway car disappeared around a row of trees to get to the main street with the rest.

“Max!” Evie charged out. Heart painfully thudding within her ribs.

“Evie?” Carol heard her and footsteps echoed around the building.

“Max!” Evie was near tears now. A shift in some fallen trash bags made her pause when two sneakers appeared around the side of the dumpster. This odd scratching sound left her lips. Evie threw herself over the tiny body there, turned Max’s limp frame over.

Her shirt collar was ripped open where someone grabbed her. Or tried to. Dragging then dropping her when she put up a fight. Bleeding scrapes and dirt scuffed all over her pale freckled skin from the rough tumble. Carol got to them first and pulled off her sweater to cover Max’s torso while Evie gathered her up.

“Help!” Carol called because Evie couldn’t. More bodies arrived. Tommy. Susan. Billy. Neil.

“Neil, she won’t wake up.” Susan pulled her daughter out of Evie’s arms, shaking her. Moans filtered out, but nothing else. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. I saw...a car. It was too dark. I just found her here on the ground. Someone tried to...” Evie wheezed out and never finished, gesturing aimlessly.

“Susan, give Maxine to Billy. She needs a hospital.” Neil swept down as Billy urged his sister’s tiny body away. This hard. flamed expression on his face as if he wasn't really here.

Max looked broken. Not real. A doll left under the bed for too long without love or cherished stories to comfort it. Evie felt the knees of her jeans soak through from the wet pavement. Too many words hit the air and Evie’s eyes dropped to where that harsh car had gone to.

Evangeline wondered what kind of monster would grab up a little girl and throw her out into the trash.

And why the world bore so many of that same design.

~~~~~

Mad Max :( Her story line is gonna start to push toward the front here and there with Evie's in pieces. Thanks again for following the fic, I really appreciate it! Please please leave some words if you enjoy the fic. XOXO Taglist open

TAGLIST:: @80sbxtch @nottherightseason @alagalaska @alongcamedolly @kellyk-chan @10blurredsmoke10 @charmed-asylum @unmistakablyunknown @lukespatterson @arkhamasylumpatient-blog1

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x oc #billy hargrove fanfic #stranger things #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x plus size oc #stranger things fanfiction #angel fenny #Billy x angel #somy #writing #mine

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chyrstis · 4 years

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OTP Questions Meme

Tagged by @faithchel and @shelliechen! You’re both awesome, and thank you! I’d also like to apologize for taking an eternity to think this over and fill it out, because that probably means I overthought every last question that popped up. XD The worst part is that I’m probably going to come back to this list later for a few other pairs, but that’s neither here nor there.

Tagging: @sharky-broshaw (I kind of want to subtly peer-pressure you into doing this for Audrey/Troy, by the way) @amistrio @shallow-gravy @ma-sulevin�� @geronimo-11 @guileandgall @teamhawkeye @jackalopestride @honesthearts @risenlucifer @fromathelastoveritaserum @raisinghellinotherworlds and @naromoreau ! But no obligation’s ever intended (and since this is a long one, doubly so this time around), and anyone else that’s interested you can totally snag this as a free tag. <3

It’s always tough to figure out which ship to focus on, but I’m going to have to focus on Hana/Sharky here. :D

Art by the lovely @nihildep!

DISAGREEMENTS

Who is more likely to raise their voice? Sharky’s naturally a loud talker, but it’s more likely to be Hana here.

Who threatens to leave but never actually does? Neither. Sharky’s got a person that actually seems to actively want him around, and Hana’s got someone determined to have her back no matter what, and for either of these two, they’d never try to threaten that. Even if annoyances ever reached a peak, Hana would head off to cool her head, and Sharky would do the same – while probably setting off a controlled fire if he's able to get away with it.

Who actually keeps their word and leaves? Neither!

Who trashes the house? They’re both accidental house trashers, with Sharky’s tendency to call her over to show off something cool really a 50/50 shot that disaster’s about to strike.

Do either of them get physical? Absolutely not. There’s a playful swat to the shoulder at times, and Hana’ll poke a finger in his chest, but never to harm.

How often do they argue/disagree? It’s pretty uncommon, with most spats having to do with concern over being separated (this is a pretty big sticking point with Sharky), and the dangers of the cult. Then it’s minor stuff that’s almost petty, like practical safety, needing a fire extinguisher whenever fire’s involved, and someone deciding not to wear a seatbelt.

Who is the first to apologize? Sharky. It’s a knee-jerk reflex for him, unfortunately, and Hana works like hell to make sure he doesn’t try to shoulder that responsibility every time.

(additional questions under the cut, but the sexy(?) ones are first if anyone wants to dodge them)

SEX

Who is on top? Neither are very picky, so while Hana may end up on top, they switch pretty frequently, and she loves having him up and over her too.

Who is on the bottom? See above!

Who has the strangest desires? I honestly want to say they’re both pretty run of the mill here, but aside from a particular *coughs* item of Sharky’s that’s about it.

Any kinks? Nothing too out there, really. And that’s the extent of detail I feel like going into at this moment. XD

Who’s dominant in bed? Sharky’s all too glad to let Hana have the reins if she wants them.

Is head ever in the equation? Absolutely.

If so, who is better at performing it? *waggles eyebrows* Let’s just say that Hana’s happy Sharky’s comments proved to be pretty legit. And the fact that he’s all too eager and glad to doesn’t hurt one bit.

Ever had sex in public? Not intentionally...? Sneaking around the bunker’s the worst they get up to, along with trying to see how discrete they can be in a tent. The answer? Not very. And there might’ve been a time up at Moonflower where a night spent watching the stars got a little friskier than intended. Neither complained much, though.

Who moans the most? Both, because they’re awful.

Who leaves the most marks? Sharky’ll leave plenty without thinking twice about it.

Who is the more experienced of the two? They’re fairly equal, but Hana might edge him out here by a sliver.

Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? Make love. They’re total saps, so no matter what there’ll always be a soft edge to any fucking taking place.

Rough or soft? Mostly soft, but sometimes quick and rough’s just what the doctor ordered.

How long do they usually last? It comes down to how long they have, where they’re at, and how desperate they’re feeling, so it’ll vary plenty. But when they want it to last, they try their hardest to.

Is protection used? Hana’s got an implant to cover their bases, but they try to use condoms whenever they can find them.

Does it ever get boring? No, Sharky’s up for anything as long as she’s happy, and Hana’s determined to make him feel good in as many ways as humanly possible, so it’s on.

Where is the strangest place they’d have sex? I actually thought for a long time it would be the damn boathouse at John’s ranch, because the singing bass being there amused me too much not to (and that’s entirely where the boathouse idea for I won’t ask for much came from), but they may just surprise me yet.

FAMILY

Do they plan on having children/or have children? Hana was on the fence about it for a while, worrying if she would even be a good influence to any kid she’d have (and always felt guilty that she gave her mother too much hell). But she grew more comfortable with the idea once she volunteered to babysit Carmina a couple of times, and after she and Sharky discussed it properly, making sure that nervous as they were, it was something they were actually on board with.

Sharky was much warmer to it at the start, but never knew if it’d be in the cards for him, and didn’t give it much thought until he caught Hana being adorable with Carmina too. But it stuck with him for a while until they sat down to talk it out.

If so, how many children do they want/have? They end up with a little girl that loves working in the explosives lab with her dad, named Gabby. Xena was their first pick, but Hana talked Sharky into going with Gabrielle instead, b/c she’s also a badass, and Xena Boshaw/Voy’s a little over the top. I’m actually thinking they might have a little boy as well, which was a bit of an epiphany the other night, but we’ll see where that leads!

(there’s also one another theoretical kid, but that involves Sir-Not-Appearing-In-This-Questionnaire, and maybe if I’m feeling ambitious later on, I’ll tackle this again for the three of them)

AFFECTION

Who likes to cuddle? Both! They’re constantly on the verge of cuddling before making it official, so the minute it happens, it’s an absolute free-for-all, taking all the comfort they can from having the other wrapped around them.

Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? Sharky.

Who struggles to keep their hands to themself? Sharky.

How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? It takes a lot for either to want to move, but Hana’s probably the first to say uncle, because after a while it’s like spooning an oven.

Who gives the most kisses? This might be pretty even as well, but Sharky loves giving her a small peck (and a bigger one if he can get away with it) whenever he’s coming and going, and it’s no surprise to Hana at all to be 100% focused on working only to have Sharky stop by and press a kiss to her hair.

What is their favourite non-sexual activity? Talking, and curling up for a movie marathon. They could seriously do that for hours on end, and if they can pull together a bunch for a theme, even better.

Where is their favourite place to cuddle? The room’s Hana’s renting out above the Eagle is likely the safest bet. Other than that, any place that’s able to give them more than five minutes of peace at a time.

How often do they get time to themselves? Not much as events keep on progressing, and things really amp up. But the moments that they can slip away, they always try to make count.

SLEEPING

Who snores? Sharky. Hana might a little from time to time, but it’s not common.

If both do, who snores the loudest? Sharky.

Do they share a bed or sleep separately? They totally share a bed. They’ll share a sleeping bag, the floor, damn near anything.

If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? While it might not always start off that way at first, they’re magnets, with one or the other curled up close before the night’s out.

What do they wear to bed? Before they’re together, just regular things, but together, it’ll vary wildly depending on safety level. If they had their way, nothing much at all.

Are either of them insomniacs? Once things kick off, Hana’s sleeping patterns come dangerously close to this, keeping her up later and later as time goes on. With Sharky close however, it’s easier to relax and ease off of the thoughts that keep her up and they’ll often try to talk as much as possible, easing any nerves he’s feeling too. If he notices her shifting around and struggling to nod off, he’ll hold her close and rub her back, her shoulders, anything until he’s sure she’s managed to fall asleep. And even if she isn’t, he’ll try to stay awake with her as long as possible.

Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? Nope! Hana would probably consider taking them if she had a prescription, though. Or if she could find any, but medicine’s pretty damn scarce.

Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? Someone’s getting wrapped up in the other, guaranteed.

Who wakes up with bed hair? Hana wins this, because she’s got more for one, and it’s infamously messy upon waking if she doesn’t tie it back.

Who wakes up first? It’s a toss up, but usually Hana, and it’ll be to check the radio or go over the maps she’s set on marking up.

Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? ‘Breakfast’ is oftentimes a pack of jerky or a snack bar, but Hana will try to surprise Sharky with them as soon as he’s awake, while he’ll try to hunt her down some coffee.

What is their favourite sleeping position? They’ll curl up next to each other, only to become a tangle as the night goes on. Or until someone’s got an arm or leg that’s fallen asleep.

Do they set an alarm each night? If they have a clock nearby, Hana will try and set one, and tries to limit smacking the snooze button to once or twice.

Can a television be found in their bedroom? In the bunker when they’re able to borrow one, they do. There’s nothing like being able to kick back with a movie, only to either fall asleep or get a little frisky during it.

Who has nightmares? Hana. They’re not persistent, but there’s a period of time where she’s unable to sleep through the night only to have that waiting for her.

Who has ridiculous dreams? Both, but Sharky wins this one.

Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? Both, but Sharky’s actually pushed her out of bed while resting before, and much as she’s teased him about it, he did warn her.

Who makes the bed? …Neither.

What time is bed time? Anytime they’re too dead on their feet to do anything else.

Any routines/rituals before bed? Nothing fancy, though if they have access to a shower, they’ll definitely try and use that to unwind.

Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? Hana, because leaving a warm cozy bed, with an even warmer, cozier person in it’s not easy at all.

WORK

Who is the busiest? Hana.

Who rakes in the highest income? Hana.

Are any of them unemployed? Sharky’s got spells where he is, but tries to find work when he can and when people will take him.

Who takes the most sick days? Sharky doesn’t get sick days with most of the jobs he takes, and Hana tries not to use hers a bunch, so that would probably go to her by default?

Who is more likely to turn up late to work? Sharky, probably due to accidentally sleeping through any alarm he’d set.

Who sucks up to their boss? …Hana. Not that she’s trying, but she really doesn’t want to make a bad impression on Whitehorse, and the moment he tells her to relax and ease off a little because she’s doing fine, she’s more than a little mortified.

What are their jobs? Junior Deputy and unofficially Local Pyro/Fire Enthusiast.

Who stresses the most? They both downplay the things that are stressing them, Sharky more so than her which isn’t great, but I think Hana’s more overt about it.

Do they enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? Sharky’s pretty enthusiastic about what he loves, and Hana’s happy enough to see what it’s like in her mother’s shoes, but it’s a lot to live up to, and she’s trying.

Are they financially stable? What with their current situation being as it is, they’re doing pretty okay for themselves.

HOME

Who does the washing? It’s a switch off! Though Hana takes point, and wonders how the hell Sharky always seems to run out of underwear so fast.

Who takes out the trash? They do it pretty regularly, but only after drawing straws for it.

Who does the ironing? *laughs* Hana hasn’t seen an iron since her last hotel stay, and any iron Sharky has has likely been repurposed for any of a number of his extracurricular activities.

Who does the cooking? They switch off even though they’re both pretty rowdy in the kitchen, but Sharky’s actually pretty good at cooking over fires, and she’s decent enough at reading the instructions on stuff before nuking them in the microwave, so it’s not a total disaster.

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? Sharky, Sharky, Sharky. Hana’s had some fun times with unattended cigarettes too, but she’s trying to do better, darn it.

Who is messier? It’s close, but Sharky.

Who leaves the toilet roll empty? Sharky. (Hana: :-/)

Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? Both of them are equally guilty.

Who forgets to flush the toilet? Let’s be real, Sharky would, but it’s a work in progress.

Who is the prankster around the house? Sharky gets the edge up on her, but Hana’s also a decent contender here.

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? Hana. She’ll feel for every pocket, thinking it’s the right one only to realize she’d left them in the very spot she swore she’d never forget. One time Sharky did have them, however, and sticking her hand in his pocket to check while he was teasing her about losing them shut him up pretty quickly.

Who mows the lawn? Honestly, neither. But if he did, she’d get in more than a little watching during it.

Who answers the telephone? Hana.

Who does the vacuuming? Either if they remember to do it.

Who does the groceries? It would’ve been Hana, mostly because while she could eat her weight in pizza, snack cakes, and burgers, it’d probably send her straight to an early grave if she wasn’t careful.

Who takes the longest to shower? Hana, and if she gets a hold of him, they’ll stay in there until the hot water runs out, easy.

MISCELLANEOUS

Is money a problem? No, not with the direction things end up heading.

How many cars do they own? Ideally Hana would have a motorcycle (she sold hers to help make the move easier), and possibly a car to go with that. Sharky would also have a very ancient and beat up sedan, but the poor thing didn’t survive the cult’s nonsense. Hell, it barely survived him.

Do they own their home or do they rent? I’m not sure if Sharky officially owns his house or just rents from Adelaide, but once they’re able to head out of the bunker, it’s all free real estate. Hana had an apartment, but that went up pretty quickly once things went south.

Do they live in the city or in the country? Country. Hana misses the city, but the change was sorely needed.

Do they enjoy their surroundings? Sharky’s lived there his whole life, and likes it well enough. Hana’s trying to get used to the quiet, and the smaller numbers of people she runs into, but it’s a needed change. The city was getting to her for a while, and having time and space to think and breathe was the way to go even if she did do it on impulse.

What’s their song? There’s definitely more than a few! And this isn’t all of them either.

The Trammps - Disco Inferno (I can’t not include this) Journey - Any Way You Want It Queens of the Stone Age - Make It Wit Chu Queen - Don’t Stop Me Now

What do they do when they’re away from each other? Miss the other terribly. Hana checks calls to see where there’s an area that might need her, and tries to stay busy just so her brain won’t go into overdrive. Sharky talks to Hurk and Adelaide (and Nick over at 8-bit), sneaks back up to Moonflower every now and then, tinkers with his flamethrower, and makes a boatload of explosives. There might be more than a little joyriding involved, but that’s entirely to go on a…testing run. He’s got to see if what he’s making actually works, right?

Where did they first meet? Right at Moonflower when Hana charged on in only to wonder what on earth this guy was doing, lighting everything in sight on fire with a smile a mile wide.

Who spends the most money when out shopping? Sharky, probably would’ve. Mostly because he’ll impulse shop like no one’s business, and grabs beer, handfuls of chips, jerky, lighter fluid, matches, etc.

Who’s more likely to flash their assets? Sharky. Mostly on accident because he’ll strip down at a second’s notice. Not that she’s complaining.

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over themselves? Hana loves the moments when he gets tongue-tied, and he gets an equal shot in whenever he aims a compliment at her. Now, Hana’s a bit more danger-prone in terms of actual mishaps (she’s fallen out of a window, almost driven off of a cliff, sprinted down a ravine, etc), but once it’s determined that everything’s fine, they both get in a solid laugh.

Any mental issues? Anxiety, depression, varying levels of ADHD, and a few others I haven’t nailed down directly.

Who’s terrified of bugs? Hana’s a bit, but it all comes down to which kind.

Who kills the spiders around the house? Hana would prefer Sharky did at times, but he’s got...’methods’ of doing so that might not be the best. Hairspray and a lighter, included.

Their favourite place? Watching the stars up at Moonflower, and the room above the Spread Eagle.

Who pays the bills? Hana’s got a more stable income, so she would’ve front-loaded it, and also remembered the deadlines, but Sharky would pony up the cash as soon as he has it.

Do they have any fears for their future? They both mainly live in the present, but much as she’d like to deny it, Hana’s terrified of Joseph being right. Of the end, of being wrong and being the one to doom them.

Sharky’s main fear that he tries to keep buried deep is being abandoned. Of losing his family and Hana during any point of this, and being the only one left on keep on going.

Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? Define fancy. Because Sharky’s ambushed her on the road with a bottle of home-brewed liquor, three packs of jerky, and a couple of snack cakes before, and Hana hardly gave him a chance to say something before she’d tackled him and kissed him all over.

But in all seriousness, Sharky would attempt it, and pair it with a movie he’s 99% sure she’s already seen and would be fine with watching again for the fiftieth time, and she’d love every second of it.

Who’s the tallest? Sharky.

Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? A little of H, and a little of S. They both love taking the chance when it’s possible. Even if Sharky’s shower has no business having two people in it.

Who wanders around in their underwear? Both, the only difference is that Hana tends to limit that to the times where it’s just the two of them one-on-one. Sharky’s nowhere near as restrained or self-conscious.

Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? Sharky beats her out by a sliver, but it’s always a joint effort, and Hana loves it.

What do they tease each other about? Anything’s really fair game between them since it never gets mean. He loves ragging on her about her cold hands (and holding them) and her driving. She loves poking at him about his need to boogie (and waits a solid minute before trying to join in), and how he can’t whisper to save his life. But the one time he joked about revoking her ‘Brian’ card due to drifting them straight into a ditch, she was not having. :’)

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? Hana, though it’s mostly to get him wearing anything other than his hoodie of choice some days. 1) it needs to be washed, and 2) it’ll fall apart at the rate he wearing it (and the things he’s dodging)

Who crushed first? Sharky. It took him very little time, but was one of those ‘Man, I think you’re neat, but we’re friends, and I’m not into you unless you’d be cool with me being into you. But...would you totally be cool with me being into you, because I’d love if it if you were’ type moments, and this was just his internal narrative for a long while.. He also strikes me as the kind of person that easily gets friend-crushes, so the flirting’s easy enough to downplay until someone actually shows interest and he fumbles through it even harder. Hurk’s also cornered him more than once on this subject and given him the talk, but not a single one’s been successful.

Hana is equally guilty of friend crushes, except she’s more than willing to cram herself into the denial corner for as long as possible, which leads to this simmering for an absurd amount of time.

Any alcohol or substance related problems? They both drink, Sharky more than her by far, but it’s still within semi-reasonable levels.

Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? Both of them together. It’s a joint effort, because no good round of karaoke’s possible without it!

Who swears the most? Sharky. It’s just flows right out of him without even trying.

#deputy hana #otp: hanarky #I'm critically soft for these two #all while they're stuck pining away like the fools they are in fic-land #but they'll get here #and I have a feeling I'm going to have to write some fluffy future-fic soon otherwise I don't think I'll be able to handle this much longer

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stilinskishit · 4 years

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Too Long (Teen Wolf Rewrite) - Chapter 19

**First couple of posts have a different title but I changed it because I didn’t like it :)**

Summary: Teen Wolf with a female main character alongside Scott and Stiles? Here it is. Ramie McCall is Scott’s twin sister and best friends with both her twin and Stiles. The trio’s friendship means the world to all three of them, so what happens when there are more than friend type of feelings present?

Tags: @multi-madison @purple286 @multifandxm353 @bralessandflawless @5secondsofmoxley @thesailbells @perrytheplatypus11

https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/

A/N: Sorry this chapter took me so long, but Motel California is my favorite episode and I really wanted to make this one good, I hope you enjoy!

You can read on Wattpad or AO3 if you prefer, so you know :) (I love reading your comments so feel free to comment here, on AO3 or Wattpad)

MASTERLIST

Chapter 19 - Motel California

Season 3, Episode 6

“I’ve seen worse,” Scott shrugged as Ramie hopped off the bus behind him. She looked up at the motel Coach had found for them to stay at overnight.

“Where could you have possibly seen worse?” Ramie scoffed, making a disgusted face towards the sketchy motel in front of them.

“Listen up,” Coach blew his whistle to get everyone’s attention. “This was the closest motel with the most amount of vacancies and the least amount of good judgement when it comes to accepting a bunch of degenerates like yourself. You’re pairing up, choose wisely.”

He held up a handful of keys and pairs started moving forward, grabbing a key from him.

“And I’ll have no sexual perversions perpetrated by you little deviants,” Coach continued as the keys got plucked from his hand. “Got that? Keep your dirty little hands to your dirty little selves.”

“Hear that Ramona?” Stiles said loudly, a smirk clear on his face while grabbing a key from Coach. “You’re gonna have to resist the temptation to put your hands all over me.”

Ramie made a loud gagging sound and looked at Coach, who had an expression on his face that she couldn’t read. She hoped it was dark enough that no one could notice the blush that was definitely evident on her cheeks.

“Oh, are you two hooligans finally together?” Coach asked, with something that looked like it could be a smile on his face.

“No!” Ramie said quickly, shaking her head. She could hear Scott chuckling behind her. “Stiles was just joking, I’m staying with Allison and Lydia.”

Coach looked between Ramie and Stiles, Ramie trying to look innocent and Stiles trying not to laugh at himself. Coach simply sighed and shook his head, handing the last key to Ramie, who brought it over to where Lydia and Allison were standing, still near the bus. She turned back to see Stiles grinning at her, still laughing at himself. She made a slicing motion across her throat at him, which just made him laugh harder. She turned her back to him so he couldn’t see her smile.

“Lyds, you coming?” Ramie asked as Allison walked towards her, but Lydia stood frozen, staring up at the motel.

“I don’t like this place,” Lydia muttered, an almost scared look in her eyes.

“I don��t think anyone in their right mind does,” Ramie scoffed.

“It’s just one night,” Allison reassured her. “It’ll be alright.”

Ramie turned, walking towards the motel and Allison followed, the sound of Lydia’s heels clicking behind them coming a second later. Their room was right next to Scott and Stiles’, who had left their door cracked open, probably to let some fresh air in, as the girls did the same, considering the rooms smelled like no one had been in there for years.

“I’m gonna go see if Scott has some extra sweatpants I can borrow,” Ramie told Lydia and Allison as the two sat down on the beds.

Allison said she was planning on showering and Lydia had gotten up, inspecting the room, so Ramie left them to go next door. She entered the room to find Scott and Stiles each laying on a bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“So I have four,” Stiles was saying.

“Four suspects?” Scott asked, propping himself up on his elbows to give a quick nod to Ramie as she entered the room.

“There were nine before,” Ramie said, sitting down on the bed next to Stiles, who was still laying back.

“Ten,” Stiles corrected, glancing over at Ramie as she crossed her legs underneath her.

“You had Derek on there twice, that doesn’t count,” Ramie shook her head. Stiles opened his mouth to argue but Scott cut him off.

“So who’s number one, Harris?”

“Just because he’s missing doesn’t mean he’s dead,” Stiles defended his choice.

“So if he’s not dead, our chemistry teacher is out secretly committing human sacrifices,” Scott said slowly, clearly not believing the theory.

“Yeah, I guess it sounded way better in my head,” Stiles shrugged.

“I told you,” Ramie said quietly, earning a sideways glare from Stiles.

“Well what if it’s someone else from the school?” Scott asked, narrowing his eyes at the ceiling in thought. “Remember Matt, we didn’t know he was killing people for awhile.”

“Excuse me, what?” Stiles said, sitting up from the bed and standing to look down at Scott. Ramie rolled her eyes, knowing exactly where this was going. “I… yes we did. I called that from day one, actually.”

“Yeah but we never seriously thought it was Matt,” Scott pushed up on his elbows again to look at Stiles.

“I was serious, I was quite serious,” Stiles said, glancing to Ramie and holding his hands out. “I was serious, wasn’t I Ramie?”

“He was serious,” Ramie confirmed, nodding at Scott.

“Who are the other three?” Scott asked, bringing the conversation back to where it started.

“Derek’s sister, Cora,” Stiles started.

“It’s not Cora,” Ramie insisted, which she had already told him on the bus.

“Listen,” Stiles put his hands up in frustration and looked towards Ramie. “Just because you have a weird crush on her doesn’t mean she isn’t the Darach.”

“You have a crush on Cora?” Scott’s eyes widened.

“No!” Ramie exclaimed, feeling her cheeks heat up. “I just defended her on the bus and Stiles now thinks I’m in love with her or something."

Scott laughed, shaking his head and Stiles shot glares at both of them.

“She is really pretty though,” Ramie said thoughtfully, looking up into the air. Scott let out a snort and Stiles let out a loud sigh.

“She’s Derek’s sister and no one knows anything about her, she’s a decent suspect,” Stiles continued, ignoring Ramie’s comment. “Next, your boss.”

“My boss?” Scott sat up fully, narrowing his eyes at Stiles.

“He doesn’t have a valid reason,” Ramie mumbled.

“I do have a valid reason,” Stiles shot a look at Ramie before continuing. “I don’t like the whole Obi-Wan thing he has going on, you know? It freaks me out.”

Scott gave Stiles a confused look.

“Oh god here we go,” Ramie muttered as Stiles’ eyes narrowed at Scott.

“Ohmygod, have you still not seen Star Wars?” Stiles looked at Scott in shock, who shrugged.

“I swear if we make it back alive I will watch the movie.”

“It just, it makes me crazy,” Stiles mumbled, rubbing his chin and sighing. Ramie let out a breath of air through her nose, which caused Scott to send her a small smile.

“Who’s left,” Scott interrupted Stiles’ angry mutters. Stiles was quiet for a second.

“Lydia,” he finally said, sitting back down on the bed next to Ramie.

“Lydia?” Ramie gave Stiles a shocked look. He hadn’t told her this theory on the bus.

“She was totally controlled by Peter and she had no idea,” Stiles said, defending his theory. Ramie opened her mouth to defend her friend, but she realized she had no good explanation as to why the Darach couldn’t be Lydia. Weird things had been happening around Lydia that no one could really explain, and Lydia seemed to act anything but completely normal lately. Ramie let out a big sigh, laying back on the bed. She heard two more sighs from Scott and Stiles, who fell back as well, Stiles arm flush to Ramie’s.

“Well I’m hungry,” Stiles said after a few minutes of silence. “I’m gonna go find a vending machine, anyone wanna come?”

Scott shook his head as Ramie got off the bed, following suit of Stiles.

“I should get back to Allison and Lydia,” Ramie said. “Scott do you have some extra sweatpants or a shirt I could wear to bed?”

“I didn’t bring any extra clothes,” Scott shrugged sheepishly.

“Amateur,” Stiles shook his head, walking over to the desk, where his bag had been placed on top. He dug through it a bit before chucking two items over his shoulder at Ramie, who thankfully, caught them both. She wasn’t sure she’d want to wear them after they touched the floor of this place. “I’m always prepared.”

“Thanks Stilinski,” Ramie gave Stiles a grin and left the room, nearly crashing into Lydia in the hallway.

“I’m going to get more towels, wanna come?” Lydia asked, as Ramie fell into step with her. As they climbed down the stairs Ramie saw Stiles leave he and Scott’s room and head towards the other set of stairs, which below had a vending machine.

“Get some clothes?” Lydia asked, eyeing the pile Ramie had in her arms. She snatched the sweatshirt before Ramie could even think, holding it up as they walked towards the motel office. It was one of Stiles’ lacrosse sweatshirts, with his name and number across the back.

“This doesn’t look like Scott’s,” Lydia raised an eyebrow at Ramie, who grabbed it back out of Lydia’s hands.

“Scott didn’t bring extra clothes,” Ramie countered, which earned a not so subtle eye roll from Lydia. They had made it to the office and Lydia asked the woman inside for three new towels while Ramie shivered, pulling Stiles’ sweatshirt over her head as a cold breeze passed by.

“What’s that?” Ramie heard Lydia ask the old woman. Ramie followed Lydia’s eyes to a number hanging on the wall of the office. 198.

“It’s kinda of… an inside thing for the motel. My husband insists on keeping it up,” the woman explained.

“What do you mean?” Lydia pressed on. Ramie kicked Lydia’s leg subtly in hopes she would drop the topic, because Ramie thought the old lady, and the whole motel was pretty creepy. Lydia ignored her.

“It’s a little bit morbid, to be honest,” the woman shrugged. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“Tell me,” Lydia said, at the same time Ramie shook her head.

“We’re not going to make the top of anyone’s list when it comes to customer satisfaction,” the woman said.

“Obviously,” Ramie mumbled, turning her back to the woman and leaning against the counter, looking out over the parking lot.

“But we are number one in California when it comes to one disturbing little detail. Since opening, more than any other motel in California, we have the most guest suicides.”

Ramie whipped her head back around, looking at the woman, who was just nodding.

“198?” Lydia mumbled.

“And counting.”

When Ramie and Lydia got back to their room, they explained what they learned to Allison, who was already freaked out. She said that Scott had come into their room and was acting really strange, then left suddenly once it seemed like he snapped out of some weird trance. Then suddenly, things got even weirder. Lydia then swore she heard two people committing suicide in the room next door, but when the three checked the room, it was empty, it looked like it was being renovated. Allison suggested they go ask the woman in the office, but she was nowhere to be found when they went back down. However, the number on the wall had changed, from 198 to 201.

“So does that mean there have been three more suicides?” Allison asked at they got back up to their room.

“Or three more are about to happen,” Lydia said, a terrified look on her face.

All three of them jumped when there was a loud banging on their door, someone knocking forcefully. Ramie held a finger up to her lips and crept over to the door, looking through the peep hole. She sighed loudly when she saw Stiles pacing back and forth, reaching up to knock again.

“What’s up,” Ramie asked as she opened the door. Stiles pushed past her and grabbed her arm, using his other hand to close the door behind her.

“Somethings wrong,” he said quickly, standing in front of her. Ramie’s back was to the door and she could see Lydia and Allison eyeing the two of them over Stiles’ shoulder. “Scotts acting strange and I just watched Boyd put his fist through a vending machine. I don’t like it here at all, we should leave.”

Stiles now had both hands on either side of Ramie’s arms, looking at her with a concerned look on his face. The way he was holding her felt strangely intimate, but Ramie pushed those thoughts away. Lydia cleared her throat and Stiles jumped, whipping around to face Lydia and Allison.

“Jesus,” he put a hand over his chest. “I didn’t know you guys were here.”

“Clearly,” Lydia smirked as Stiles took a few steps away from Ramie, straightening the zip up he was wearing. Stiles rubbed the back of his neck, a habit Ramie knew he did when he felt uncomfortable.

“Scott was weird with Allison also,” Ramie said, changing the topic back to what it had been.

“It’s the motel,” Lydia said immediately.

“They keep count of how many suicides they have here and put the number on the wall in the office,” Ramie told Stiles, whose face scrunched up in disgust.

“That’s fucked up,” he sat down in the desk chair, running a hand through his hair. Ramie pushed herself up onto the desk, sitting on it and dangling her legs down next to where Stiles sat.

“I’d say,” Ramie nodded. “And get this, when me and Lydia went down there earlier the number was 198. But just now when we went down it was 201."

“I don’t know what’s going on, but someone needs to learn how to do an exorcism before the werewolves go crazy and kill us,” Lydia said frantically, pulling a bible out of the drawer in the nightstand between the beds.

“Okay, hold on,” Stiles held up his hands, trying to relax Lydia. “What if it’s not just the hotel? The number in the office went up by 3 right?”

“You mean like three sacrifices,” Allison said, putting it together. Stiles nodded.

“Three werewolves?” Ramie asked.

“Scott, Isaac and Boyd,” Stiles confirmed. “Maybe we were meant to come here.”

“Exactly!” Lydia exclaimed. “So can we get the hell out of here now?”

“Hang on,” Stiles stood up, grabbing the Bible out of Lydia’s hand. He opened it up and pulled out something, it looked like a cut out newspaper clipping. Ramie got up, reading over his shoulder.

“Twenty-eight year old man hangs himself at the infamous Glen Capri Motel,” she read aloud. Stiles shook the bible over the bed and more newspaper clippings fell.

“All the clippings say room 217,” Lydia said. “That’s this room.”

“So if every room has a bible,” Allison said.

“There could be clippings in every room,” Lydia finished.

“That’s a beautiful thing, most places leave a mint on the pillow, this place leaves a record of all the horrible deaths that have occurred,” Stiles said. Ramie smacked his arm at his sarcasm.

“What if the room next door has one about the couple I heard,” Lydia said. All four of them looked towards the room next door. Stiles suddenly took off, running at the door, the three girls following behind him. When they reached the hallway Stiles was already at the door, pulling on the handle.

“It was not locked before,” Lydia said.

“We need to get Scott, Isaac and Boyd out of here,” Ramie said, as Stiles took off towards the stairs. However, everyone froze when the sound of a saw rang through the quiet night air. Stiles spun on his heel, a terrified look on his face.

“I’m not the only one hearing that am I?” Lydia asked, looking at the locked door.

“It sounds like someone turned the handsaw on,” Allison said.

“Handsaw?” Stiles asked, suddenly next to them again. “Move.”

The three girls backed up as Stiles did, who then ran forward, slamming into the door, hard, which thankfully wasn’t too reliable, since it swung open. Ethan stood in the middle of the room, handsaw above his head, and began slowly bringing it down towards his stomach.

“Hey, Ethan, don’t!” Stiles yelled, running forward. He grabbed the saw, trying to pull it away from Ethan.

“Stiles!” Ramie shrieked, as the saw got dangerously close to him while he struggled with Ethan. She felt frozen, watching Stiles try to get the saw away from Ethan, while also not getting hurt himself. Suddenly the saw turned off and Ramie glanced over to Lydia, who had pulled the plug out from the wall, just as Stiles fell to the ground, his face landing inches away from the saw. Ethan stood up straight, putting out his claws. He immediately went for his stomach, trying to slice himself open. Ramie and Stiles both ran forward, attempting to pull Ethan’s arms away from his torso. Eventually Ethan fell sideways, his hand making contact with a space heater, which seemed to burn him back to reality.

“What the hell just happened,” Ethan stood up from the ground, looking confused and holding his hand where it was burnt. No one answered immediately and Ethan took off, out the door.

“Ethan, wait,” Stiles called, following him outside.

“I don’t know what happened, okay,” Ethan said as Stiles, Ramie, Allison and Lydia followed him down the stairs. “I don’t know how I got there or what I was doing.”

“You know you could be a bit more helpful,” Stiles stopped at the end of the stairs, the rest stopping behind him as Ethan turned to look at the other boy from a few feet away. “We just saved your life.”

“You probably shouldn’t have,” Ethan said, before turning and going back to his room.

“What the hell do we do now,” Lydia asked, throwing her hands up in defeat.

“Let’s go find Scott,” Allison said, nodding to Ramie. “You guys go find Boyd and Isaac, all we can do at this point is get them all out of here.”

Ramie and Allison first went to Scott and Stiles’ room, where Scott should’ve been, but couldn’t find him. They knocked on doors down the hallway, seeing if he was in anyone else’s room, and he was nowhere to be found. They accidentally knocked on Coach’s door as well, which turned into a ten minute lecture on them being out of bed and how they need to get to sleep. Thankfully, Lydia yelling to Ramie from a room on the other side of the motel got them away from Coach, since they promised to make sure everyone quieted down.

“What’s going on,” Ramie panted as she slowed from a run, meeting Lydia as she held the door open to Boyd and Isaac’s room. Allison had agreed to continue looking for Scott while Ramie checked to see what Lydia needed. Boyd stood in the middle of the room, soaking wet, next to Stiles, both of whom were staring at one of the beds.

“I tried to drown myself,” Boyd grimaced, gesturing to his soaking wet clothes. “These two saved me.”

“Heat snaps them out of it,” Stiles explained. “Ethan touched that heater, we used this flare to get Boyd out of the bath.”

“Isaac’s under the bed, which is why I called you here,” Lydia said.

“Under the bed?” Ramie questioned, and Lydia held up a hand, silencing her.

“He’s going through something weird too, but he’s hiding under the bed, terrified,” she explained. “We can’t get him to come out and we thought maybe you could.”

“His Dad,” Ramie murmured. Isaac was freaked out because of the abuse he endured from his Dad. Everyone in the room just stared at Ramie, unsure of what to say. She walked over to the bed, kneeling down in front of it.

“Be careful,” Stiles said, but Ramie waved him away. She leaned her head down, pulling up the bed skirt. Isaac was curled up under the bed, breathing heavily and visibly shaking. It looked like he was having a panic attack.

“I,” Ramie said, using her nickname for him in a quiet voice. “Isaac, are you okay?”

Isaac’s head whipped towards her, making eye contact only for a second before scooting backwards more, closer to the wall.

“It’s okay,” Ramie continued. “Everything’s alright, it’s just me, Ramie. Can you come out?”

Isaac stopped whimpering and looked Ramie in the eyes. For a second, she thought she had gotten through to him. Then suddenly, before anyone could even comprehend what was happening, Isaac shot forward, moving from under the bed and tackling Ramie, teeth bared. Ramie couldn’t process what was going on around her, she simply closed her eyes in fear. She trusted Isaac, basically with her life, for so long, and suddenly she was sure she was going to die at his hand. She heard commotion around her and suddenly Isaac wasn’t pining her down, but someone was trying to pull her up off the ground.

She opened her eyes to see Boyd pining Isaac to the wall across the room, Isaac holding a hand to his arm where Ramie assumed Boyd had put the flare to his skin, snapping him out of the trance. Ramie glanced up to see Lydia with her arms around her, looking her over to make sure she wasn’t hurt.

“I’m okay Lyds,” Ramie squeaked out. She didn’t expect her voice to sound so terrified. “It’s not his fault.”

Lydia started to say something but Ramie couldn’t hear a word, because Stiles began to yell.

“What the fuck is your problem?” He walked forward, pushing Boyd off of Isaac and holding Isaac against the wall himself. “You could’ve fucking killed her, you know that?”

“Stiles,” Ramie yelled, standing up quickly despite Lydia’s words of protest. Stiles either didn’t hear, or ignored her.

“You could’ve killed her!” Stiles repeated, still screaming in Isaac’s face. “If you ever come near her like that again I swear to god I’ll-“

“Stiles!” Ramie yelled again, louder this time. She grabbed his arm, puling him back from Isaac, who looked like he was about to burst into tears. “It’s not his fault.”

“He could’ve killed you,” Stiles said as tried to step towards Isaac again, but Ramie moved in front of him, putting herself between the two boys. She put both hands on either side of Stiles at his biceps. She waited until he looked at her, making eye contact. “I’m okay, Isaac didn’t mean to do anything wrong.”

Stiles nodded, but his jaw was clenched in a way that Ramie knew he was still extremely angry. Stiles and Isaac never really got along the best to begin with, and this definitely made things worse.

“Ramie, I’m sorry,” Isaac said quietly from behind her, and she watched as anger flashed over Stiles’ eyes again. She put a hand on his chest, holding him in place as she turned to Isaac.

“We’ll talk later,” Ramie gave the curly haired boy a small smile. He nodded glumly, looking between Ramie and Stiles. Ramie grabbed Stiles wrist, dragging him to the other side of the room with her. When she dropped his hand his arms immediately crossed over his chest, a glare never leaving his face as he stared at Isaac across the room.

“Pack up your things,” Ramie pointed at Boyd and Isaac. “We’re sleeping on the bus tonight, all of us.”

She was cut off by Allison suddenly running into the room.

“I still can’t find Scott anywhere,” she panted, looking worried. Lydia nodded, like she was thinking.

“Okay, we’ll go look for him, you two pack up and meet us at the bus in half an hour, if we haven’t found Scott by then you’ll have to help us look,” she told Isaac and Boyd, who nodded. Ramie grabbed Stiles’ hand, tugging him out of the room and away from Isaac before he had the chance to say or do anything else.

“It must be happening to him too,” Ramie said as she, Stiles, Lydia and Allison made their way down the stairs. Ramie realized she was still holding Stiles’ hand as she walked in front of Lydia and Allison, and quickly dropped it. She watched as Stiles’ eyes flicked to hers, then quickly looked away.

“There’s another flare on the bus, right?” Lydia asked as they made it to the bottom of the stairs. Ramie heard Stiles reply but didn’t comprehend anything he said. She was frozen at the bottom of the stairs, being the first to turn the corner and look out over the parking lot. She had found Scott, but it wasn’t good. The smell of gasoline filled the air as Scott stood in the middle of the lot, soaking wet, and holding the last flare in his hand. It sizzled in the quiet night air. Ramie was snapped out of her shock when Stiles slammed into the back of her, not seeing Scott.

“Raim, what are you,” Stiles started, but then followed her gaze. Scott was back to them, seeming to be staring at the ground, frozen in place.

“Scott,” Allison said, her voice cracking. She walked around to the front of him, the rest following her. Ramie felt like her throat was going to close up. She grabbed Stiles’ hand again, this time lacing her fingers through his. He glanced over at her before squeezing her hand.

“There’s no hope,” Scott croaked out, his voice sounding almost robotic. Ramie tried to say something but no words would come out. She noticed a can of gasoline a few feet away, confirming her thought that Scott was covered head to toe in the flammable liquid. She could feel her body begin to shake in panic, tears already falling down her cheeks.

“What do you mean Scott,” Allison said, tears falling down her face too. “There’s always hope.”

“Not for me,” Scott replied, not looking up at any of them. “Not for Derek.”

“Derek wasn’t your fault,” Ramie said, finally able to get words to come out of her mouth. “You know that Scott. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Every time I fight back it just gets worse, people keep getting hurt, people keep getting killed.”

“Scott, listen to me,” Stiles cut him off, stepping forward. His hand slowly dropped from Ramie’s as he moved closer to his friend. “This isn’t you. This is someone inside your head telling you to do this.”

“What if, what if it is just me,” Scott stammered. “What if doing this is actually the best thing I could do for everyone else?”

“Scott,” Ramie stepped forward too, not sure what to say.

“It all started that night,” Scott cut her off. “The night I got bitten. You guys remember the way it was before that? The three of us?”

Stiles and Ramie both nodded. Ramie looked to Stiles to try and figure out what they could do, but his eyes were locked on Scott, a tear falling down his cheek.

“We were nothing,” Scott said quietly. “We weren’t popular, we weren’t good at lacrosse. We never had boyfriends or girlfriends. We weren’t important. We were no one. Maybe I should just be no one again. No one at all.”

Ramie sucked in a breath as Scott slowly turned his hand to the side, moving it in a way that if he let go of the flare it would drop straight into the puddle of gasoline he was standing in.

“Scott just listen to me okay,” Stiles said, stepping forward. Ramie tried to grab at his arm and pull him back, but he was out of her reach. “You’re not no one, okay? You’re someone. Scott you’re my best friend, okay, and I need you.”

“I need you too,” Ramie said, nearly sobbing through her words as she stepped next to Stiles.

“Scott, you’re my brother, alright,” Stiles continued. He glanced at Ramie and down at the puddle of gasoline, and she immediately understood what Stiles was going to do. As he stepped forward, putting himself in the puddle of gasoline with Scott, Ramie sucked in a breath, biting her lip so hard that she could taste blood. Stiles slowly put a hand up, wrapping it around Scott’s hand that held the flare. “If you’re gonna do this then I think you’re going to just have to take me with you.”

Ramie let out a sob, putting a hand over her mouth. Lydia instantly moved closer to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. The three girls watched as Stiles slowly pulled the flare out of Scott’s hand, then chucked it behind him quickly, before Scott had the chance to do anything else. Ramie let out a sigh of relief, immediately running forward to tackle Scott in a hug. Before she got the chance, Lydia shrieked, running towards them as Stiles grabbed Scott and Ramie, pulling them both to the ground and out of the gasoline, just in time for the flare to be blown by the wind into the puddle, igniting it immediately.

“The darach,” Lydia yelled through the roar of the fire. Ramie sat up, scooting backwards with the her friends as Lydia yelled. When they made it a safe distance away from the fire they turned to Lydia, with a confused look. “The darach did this to you guys. I saw it.”

Isaac and Boyd met them at the bus just minutes after the fire died down. Allison and Lydia decided to go pack up all of their’s and Ramie’s stuff while Scott showered in their room, since Ramie didn’t want him being left alone again, but she wanted to talk to Isaac before Stiles had the chance to attempt to beat him up again. Stiles and Boyd got on the bus together to get ready to sleep while Ramie and Isaac stood outside, looking over the parking lot.

“Ramie, I cannot tell you how sorry I am,” Isaac said as soon as the bus door closed behind Stiles. Ramie held up her hand to quiet him.

“It’s okay Isaac, I’m not mad,” she said.

“Stiles is,” Isaac nodded towards the bus.

“He’s just… protective,” Ramie said, trying to find the right word.

“He cares about you a lot,” Isaac said sincerely. “Like I think he would actually kill me if I hurt you.”

“No he wouldn’t,” Ramie scoffed.

“I don’t know,” Isaac shrugged. “People do crazy things for the people they love.”

Ramie’s head whipped towards his, probably too fast. Her eyes were wide when his met hers, and a small smirk was on his mouth.

“What do you mean,” she said quickly, her eyes narrowing at the taller boy.

“I just mean he’s your best friend and he cares about you a lot,” Isaac shrugged, the small smile not leaving his face.

“Right,” Ramie nodded. “Yeah.”

Isaac let out a small noise that sounded like it could be a chuckle, and they were both quiet for minute.

“Isaac,” Ramie said quietly, getting his attention back. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I think you need to find a new anchor.”

Isaac’s eyes met hers and he nodded slightly, like he knew this was where the conversation was going.

“You will always have a place in my heart, and you know that,” Ramie said, grabbing his hand. “But you need to be able to control yourself without me there.”

“I know,” Isaac said quietly. “I’ve been trying.”

“Good,” Ramie nodded, squeezing his hand. “You’re stronger than you know.”

Isaac stepped forward, wrapping Ramie in a hug.

“Thank you,” he said.

Without speaking, Ramie knew that there was an understanding between the two of them. It sort of felt like a goodbye hug, like they were letting go of their past relationship, but also, it was the two of them moving into new territory. Friendship, but nothing more. Ramie knew she’d always have a soft spot for him, but not in the same way that she once had.

As she pulled away from the hug she looked up to see Stiles sending a glare at the two of them from the bus window. Ramie rolled her eyes and stepped back from Isaac, seeing Scott, Allison and Lydia making their way over.

“Guess it’s bedtime,” Isaac said, glancing up at Stiles in the window, who whipped his head around to pretend he wasn’t staring at the two of them. Ramie snorted, walking over to the bus and climbing in, moving towards the back and sliding in the seat next to Stiles.

“You know we stayed outside so we could have some privacy,” Ramie said quietly to Stiles as everyone else got on the bus, Allison tossing Ramie her purse as everyone tried to settle into a bus seat comfortably.

“I was making sure he didn’t try and kill you again,” Stiles put his hand up defensively.

“Sure,” Ramie nodded, getting up to move into the seat in front of Stiles so they could both lay down in their own seat.

“Wait,” Stiles grabbed her arm, pulling her back down. “Can we talk theories?”

“Stiles, I’m tired,” Ramie whined, trying to get up again. Stiles pulled her back down.

“You can lay down and I’ll play with your hair, like you used to make me,” Stiles gave her a soft smile. “You don’t have to talk, you can just listen.”

When they were younger, Ramie used to force Stiles to play with her hair, or scratch her back whenever they had sleepovers. She told him it was the only way she could fall asleep away from home, but really she just found it comforting. The habit turned into a regular thing that Stiles would do, usually when they had sleepovers, but as they got older he would sometimes run a hand through her hair as they watched a movie, or draw shapes on her back when she was napping in his room. A few times when Stiles was sick Ramie did the same thing for him. They never spoke about it, it was just something they would do. There were a lot of things like that between them.

Ramie sighed, slouching sideways and putting her head on the seat next to Stiles’ leg, stretching out to rest her feet on the seat on the other side of the aisle

“That can’t be comfortable,” Stiles looked at her contorted body, scrunching his nose. He patted a hand on his thigh and Ramie looked up, meeting his eyes. Part of her expected him to burst out laughing, like he was joking about her laying her head in his lap. But he simply smiled, patting his leg again. Ramie scooted up, putting her head onto Stiles lap and rearranged her body so she was laying sideways, the back of her head against his stomach. His hand immediately threaded through her hair, lightly pulling through small knots as he began to whisper all his theories on who the Darach was and what the alpha pack was up to. Ramie fell asleep so quickly she regretted it the next morning, because she would’ve done anything to stay awake all night with Stiles’s hands running through her hair and lightly across her back, drawing words she couldn’t comprehend.

#teen wolf rewrite #stiles stilinski fanfic #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles stilinski one shot #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski x OC #teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf one shot #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf #motel california #03x06 #isaac lahey #scott mccall #lydia martin

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not-the-cleavers · 4 years

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Target II - Chapter 5

I’m back with another chapter - still on alert for evacuation here but writing takes my mind off all the anxiety around this fire.

Underneath the chapter I have a little snippet of pure friendship that came up while writing this chapter!

Tags; @adrenaline-roulette and @amy-brooklyn99 - if you would like to be tagged just let me know

Pairing; Four x Eight (female reader) Fandom; 6 Underground Warnings; Swearing, smoking, drinking, reader kissing a girl (read that how you’d like in terms of sexuality), mentions of sexual acts (including non-consensual but only briefly I promise), mention of arousal and hinting at masturbation. Word count; 1.6k (total so far 7.9k)

Also I used an answer from this Ben Hardy interview in this chapter!

Summary; The team has moved onto their next target after dealing with Rovach Alimov, a war criminal named John Dough. Eight has just joined the team and is dying to show how much she deserves to be there

Catch up; Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

“You first, your number is lower than mine” I laughed. Four ran his hands through his hair again as a smile broke out across his face. “Alright I’ll start easy. What’s your favourite movie or movie series?” he asked. “Super easy! I love the Saw franchise” He laughed at my response “Hey I know that it’s not the best horror series but I love them” I said pushing his shoulder a bit. “If you could only listen to one song for the rest of your life, what would it be?” “Led Zeppelin ‘Thank You’ because it’s a beautiful love song, and everyone loves a beautiful love song.” “That’s kind of adorable” I sighed, why did he have to be so damn cute? “It’s super adorable I’ll have you know!” he laughed After a few easy questions surrounding hobbies, he blurted out “Tell me about your first kiss” “Not a question, but I’ll roll with it” I said gently mocking him “I was 14 at it was at a school camp a bunch of kids all entered our cabin and we played spin the bottle…” “Oh so a pretty boring story” Four interrupted “Will you let me finish? Mary King spun, and it landed on me, I thought she would just spin again, as were the rules laid out by the boys in the room, but instead she pulled me up and we kissed.” The look on Four’s face said it all. His mouth was slightly open and he looked like he was far off in thought. I waited patiently, sipping at my drink until he snapped out of it, finally he shook his head slightly and downed the last of the beer in his bottle before cracking open another one. “Tell me about your first kiss” I said lighting another cigarette, not giving him time to say anything in regards to my story. “Um, well, I was 15, down at the pub back home with some mates, drinking and smoking, being stupid kids really. In walked Ashley Reid, she was easily the prettiest girl in school and I had the biggest crush on her. We started dancing and having a good time and then all of a sudden she kissed me.” He said with a shrug, seemingly past the whole I kissed a girl thing. “What was your first sexual encounter?” he asked hesitantly, maybe testing the waters to see how I’d respond. But seeing as I’m a woman with zero shame I had no issue answering him. “Do you mean sex or messing around, those are two very different things.” “I guess just messing around” he shrugged. “I was 16 and I was at a high school party, I had been chatting with Scott Davis for quite some time and one thing led to another and I ended up giving him a blow job in the bathroom of this persons’ house.” I said sipping my drink, leaving out the fact I was blind drunk and he had basically taken advantage of me, I was trying to keep things as light as I could. “So…you’re not gay?” he asked, again very hesitantly “No” I laughed, ‘you have a shot with me’ I thought to myself. “Same question right back at you” “No, I’m not gay” he replied, laughing when he saw my pissed off expression. “You know what I meant” I half yelled, his laugher only making me angrier “You need to be specific love, and now you’ve lost a question” he patted my leg “Did ‘Jack and Jill’ ruin Adam Sandler’s career?” he asked, trying to calm me down by asking a pointless question. “Did he ever really have a good career?” I replied with a grimace, I couldn’t stand the guy. “Wait that’s not my next question!” I shouted, not about to lose another question to a technicality. “Good point, I guess you’re right there” he laughed. “Now you can ask the question you really wanted me to answer.” “Alright, have you ever done anything sexual in public?” I asked, slightly changing the question to catch him off guard. “Honestly, Ashley Reid when I was 15…” “C’mon don’t fuck with me, you can’t be serious” I slapped his bicep but his face told me he was in fact, being serious. “Yeah, after she kissed me we danced some more. When we got tired we sat down in a booth and she gave me a handy under the table. I had to run to the bathroom shortly afterwards and ditch my boxers. Went the rest of the night commando” he said jerking his head to the side slightly before taking another sip of his beer. Honestly was not expecting that response.

We kept going back and forth asking each other questions, going well and truly over the twenty question limit, but we were having fun. Our questions kept getting sexual and then easing back into being light hearted and funny and then back again, but as we got drunker the sexual questions became more heated. I could see Four was holding back so I piped up “I can see you have a question, I have no shame so go ahead and ask me” “Alright, do you have any kinks?” he asked, his eyes darkening slightly just waiting for my response. “Domination, tie me up and choke me…” I started rattling off a few things bound to get me hot and bothered while looking at my hands. I felt Four shift slightly to reposition himself on the bed next to me as I talked ‘am I turning him on?’ “Oh and I’m into pegging” I joked, which caused him to tense up. “Oh…” did he think that last comment was serious? I wonder how far I could take this, so I kept a straight face and asked him “what about you, what gets you going?” “Uhhh…” he scratched the back of his neck, seemingly considering whether or not to answer “You don’t have to say if you don’t want to” I told him, rubbing his arm. I didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable. “No it’s not that. I just haven’t really developed any kinks. I’m a pretty vanilla guy” he said shyly, his cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “Well there’s still time to work on that” I told him, trying to put his mind at ease. “How? I’m dead remember?” “There’s some people out there into that” I joked, causing us to collapse in a fit of laughter. My side felt like it was on fire but I didn’t care, I felt a complete sense of relaxation with Four that I had never felt with anyone else in my life. I found myself leaning against his chest, my body seemingly melting into his chiselled one. I had never noticed just how muscular he was, he was always wearing his hoodies, hiding his figure.

He eventually stopped laughing, and I felt his hand find its way under my chin, lifting it up so I was looking straight into his jade eyes. My eyes darted towards his lips right before those exact lips gently collided with mine. My hands flew up and my fingers knotted themselves into his blond locks. A slight moan escaped his lips. Without him breaking the kiss, he started to slide his leg underneath me and leant backwards so he ended up on his back. I rolled on top of him so that my chest was flush with his. His hands played at the hem of my hoodie, and I became acutely aware that I still had no shirt on underneath, but even with this sudden realisation, I didn’t stop him from snaking his hands underneath. The rough calloused skin on his hands felt unusually comforting against my hips. He only broke the kiss long enough for us to catch our breath and allowing me to steady myself above him, before crashing his lips back into mine. His urgency grew at the same rate as mine, and then I felt it, right against my thigh through both of our sweatpants, he was hard. His hands started to slowly travel up my back and I was loving every moment, that was until his hands made their way to my sides, causing one to land right on my healing bullet wound, causing me to jolt in pain breaking the kiss. “Fuck!” my eyes stung and the room felt like it was moving, I sat upright and moved myself off his lap. Four took a moment of realisation, before scurrying to check I was ok. “Shit Eight I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me” he said hurriedly, hiding his head in his hands, his face turning bright red in embarrassment. “Y/N” was my only response. “Sorry?” he lifted his head to search my face for some kind of clue. “That’s my name, I think we’re well beyond calling each other our numbers” I laughed weakly “Billy” he introduced himself “and I’m sorry, I crossed a line” he said sheepishly “Don’t be sorry, it’s just this fucking bullet wound. I was having the time of my life” I winked at him, causing his eyes to darken. “Look I, um, I think I should call it a night” Billy stammered. What the hell was he talking about? One quick look out the window confirmed that it was indeed late. “Holy shit, alright” I planted a quick kiss on his cheek “sleep well. Come see me again soon” I muttered. Within moments he was out the door, probably needing to go ‘take care’ of things.

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And that’s chapter 5! I promise there will be more about John Dough in the next chapter, and again I don’t know when it’ll be out but I’ll release it as soon as I can! I hope you enjoyed this little chapter all about Four and Eight getting to know one another, maybe a little more than they were expecting! I’d love to hear from you guys!!

Also huge props to @adrenaline-roulette for all her help and for this glorious moment when I realised I’m shit at 20 questions!

Also yes I forgot the term “straight people” and went with non bi, you are allowed to judge me for that - also before anyone asks, the best way to describe my sexuality is Bi or maybe Pan (I don’t fucking know honestly, everyone is attractive to me!)...Anywho...This post has gone on for long enough, enjoy and I’ll catch ya in the next chapter!

#ben hardy #ben hardy fic #ben jones #6 underground #6 underground fic #four x reader #four x eight #billy/four #four fic

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reddogf13 · 3 years

Text

Scarlet marks ch 1

Pennywise x Beverly

summery: who knew she would end up here? Beverly, having started her work in fashion as a young bright secretary under the older tom Rogan. now forced to sexually serve slimy old politicians under toms vicious grip for power and money. forced into following toms political flock to Derry. she runs into a familiar face, wearing a silver clown suit, out on a special hunt. (mainly smut

status: In progress

rated: M - fowl language, gore, and sex scenes ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

previous chap: None

next chap: Scarlet marks ch 2

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~ch:1 High roller~

Beverlys life had not been going well since she got involved with Tom Rogan. they first met in her secretary work under the LA fashion industry 8 years ago back in 1991. hardly an adult at just turning 18 to get herself into the business as a start. She should have seen the red flags in the older 33 year old Tom Rogan floating around her all the time. Looking back he was eerily similar in how her dad used to haunt her when ever she was in her apartment as a child. Tom was quick to fill her head with dreams of fame and fortune. False promises that he could help her break into the real fashion jobs.

She decided that they would be partners in their line of work. unbeknownst to her Tom had already decided for her back then. Her making wonderful dresses while he controlled both there finances and all the details in planning. This was the beginning of their downfall after Tom loved hogging all the spot light to the point he turned obsessed with showing off. Spending most their business money to lavishly “gain connections” in the fashion industry. It worked, or so he told her it did, gaining access to high profile party's to talk with great designers. Something that made her trust him more after he introduced her to such high people.

From then on he convinced her that he loved her. Taking her to fancy dates involving fancy shopping trips. Double dates with other designers she loved talking to. All these things he did to purposefully keep her in the dark with how much money they were truly hemorrhaging. Then the fancy dates stopped along with attending fancy party's. Bills started coming in claiming they were over due on payment. Tom brushing her off to not let her question the missing pieces he downplayed all the time. Soon their business started showing it wasn't doing as well as he told. He couldn't keep up in hiding the bills followed by money collectors on late payments anymore.

When ever she tried to investigate into how bad things were, he blamed her. Accusing her of not believing him when he said things were being handled. She was the one who had to give him more to keep things working. Purposefully hooking her deeper so that she had no way of leaving. Telling her he did so much to build her and how dare she try to go off on her own. How could she abandon him after everything, in fact, they should get married! It would improve their looks to the other designers and the customers buying from them.

“Who doesn't like a family run business! Customers eat those things up when buying made goods!” he claimed.

This was his idea of solving the growing debt they had. Customers would see this “family business” tag and product would fly off the shelf's. Which of course flopped hard despite how big and highlighted he made the tag line across everything. Beverly outright told him she had had enough of him. Demanding they get a divorce and go their separate ways. Tom wasn't about to allow that, showing his true face that night. How violent he could be when he was angry.

Leaving Beverly a bloody broken mess that had her quiet for a long time. Any sound she made had him taking out his anger on her. Doing so even when money collectors called. Then one day he suddenly stopped the attacks, that then allowed her to heal after so long. Turing sickeningly sweet toward her that made her blood run cold. A plot he came up with that she was in the dark of until fully healed.

A crooked grin spanning across his face when he spoke. “you're getting a new job baby girl.” sliding her a lavish meal they used to have on their fancy dates. “it'll make us a lot of money. Allows us to keep the house. You don't want us homeless, do you?” anger dripping through the last few words.

Beverlys stomach twisting into painful knots in fear of another violent beating. “... no...”

“good.” smiling softer when cutting into his steak. “you'll go out to a nearby hotel to meet some nice men. You'll do everything they say. If you don't, I wont be happy.” stabbing harshly into a piece of sliced stake. Snickering when Beverly jumped at the other end of the table. “eat fast and go make yourself look pretty. I'll go over the prices with you.” his voice coldly casual as if he was simply talking about the weather.

That's when her work of a prostitute started. In the beginning she tried so hard to escape Tom and the street life. Even getting arrested at one point, but Tom had high connections. Connections to politicians that treated her like she was his property. A dog being returned to its master after getting out of the yard. When she was returned to Tom, by the judge setting her free, she felt hopeless. When she had to serve that same judge and his buddy's at a house party, she was left broken. Giving up on fighting for freedom after so long.

Now it was the year 1999, Beverly had excitedly spent her 26th birthday a few weeks ago moving with Tom to a new house. Flying from LA all the way back to her home town of Derry. Following a bunch of politicians moving here to take over the place. Seeing Derry as a easy town to sweep up votes to grow new business under their belts. Also to keep prying eyes off their not so honest work. Her wondrous job earning enough for Tom to buy the fanciest house in the rich heights of the town. If it weren't for how and why they got it she'd find the place lovely.

Like usual Tom sent her out to work the street corners. Giving her a daily quota that she had to make if she wanted to be let back in the house. Withholding even the basics like food if she didn't make enough. Requiring her to be clever on finding a place to sleep, although it being really undignified. Convincing her clients to have her spend the night for more money. Possibly raiding the fridge as they slept if she didn't convince them to sexily eat some fruit with her.

The past couple of weeks hadn't been going as well in the money making. Leaving her to spend whole nights out on the street with no chance of following someone home. The clientele decreasing over time to the point she began to question why. Was she not that good, not enough money per person like in LA, or perhaps because word got around so fast in Derry? People weren't willing to take the risk of being caught and shamed across town. If it weren't for toms punishments she'd be thrilled at being ignored by the town.

She leaned against the cold brick wall behind her. Sighing out a breath of air that fogged up in the cold night air. It was reaching the point she'd have to find a place to sleep outside if somebody didn't pick her up. Shifting off the wall to walk around for a bit of warmth. Thinking about breaking into the Derry junk yard to sleep in an abandoned car. Passing down an alley lightly lit up by a street light at its end. Her pace nervously slowing at the feeling of being watched from the shadows.

Out of the corner of her eye a dark tall shape moved closer from the shadows. Turning to face the one moving closer her eyes locked with two golden glowing ones. Heart skipping a beat in recognizing them and who they belonged two. That horrifying clown from her child hood stepping from the dark to be highlighted by the yellow lamp a distance away. She stood her ground in facing him unafraid of what he could do to her. Honestly being eaten alive was better then what her job had her do.

Smiling at her for a moment before speaking. “hi-ya, Beverly.”

not in the mood to deal with him she asked boldly. “what do you want?”

“i want you.” he boldly answered back.

Taken aback she stared at him while her skin crawled at the idea of what he meant. Hoping it wasn't that she asked him another question. “what, to suffer? To eat me like you tried ages ago?”

“no, for a bit of fun.” stepping closer that drove her to step back nervously. “been watching you play with others. Decided I wanted to have a ride.”

“ha.” she nervously fake laughed. “if you didn't notice its my job, that means you gotta pay. You got money, clown?” anxiety building the longer she stayed around him. What if he was planning something sinister if she said no?

“i do.” his answer catching her off guard again.

“mm … doubt you have enough.” speaking the next line quickly. “i am not doing anything and I am going now.” walking off toward the alley exit.

His expression dropping its wide smile to frown for a brief moment before grinning again. “i can pay whatever price you ask. Follow whatever rules you give. You could go back home after me if you earn enough, correct?” his words bringing her to a stop to think it over a deep breath.

She was 2,000 short on being able to make it home. For basic sex it was usually around $200 or a little more for particular features. Did she really want to do it with that clown though? Was 2,000 considered enough to commit to that?

“ … $5,000 … you have to pay first before I do anything. No negotiating on that.” firm on her stance and willing to walk if he tried changing her mind on anything. Amazed she didn't die right then and there when he pulled out a huge wad of cash.

“holding it out for her to take. “here … take it.” smiling at her the whole time.

Snatching it from his hand in disbelief that this was happening. “... i need to count it. ...” stating as she went through the wad of hundreds without a fuss from him. Debating if she could back out still or not when going through the counting a few times. The whole $5,000 was there up front for her to take. Thinking back to why he even wanted to do this. It didn't appear to be for any sinister reasons or else why be so cooperative in dealing with her? “... okay. … what do you want to do?” lacking enthusiasm for the performance.”

“nothing much, just a round or two.”

“... you got a place you want to go? Or are we doing it in the alley?”

“don't have a place at the moment.” stepping personally close into Beverlys space.

“mm.” humming her displeasure at the whole situation she was in. “follow me. We can be over here where nobody driving by the alley can see us.” gesturing for him to follow over to a darkened spot. Rummaging through her pockets a lump formed in her throat. She swore she had some to spare, but apparently not. “you have a condom?”

“nope.”

“course you don't.” not afraid to up the price for him. “Raw rides cost extra.” thankfully almost all her clients went for the free condom route. Especially the big wigs not wanting to be black mailed with a prostitute pregnancy during a campaign.

not losing any of his smiling composure. “i can pay.”

“$50.” holding her hand out. a millisecond passing before the bill was in her hand. “okay.” sighing after checking the bill was real before putting it away in her jacket pocket. Shifting nervously when his white gloved hands reached down to undo her pants. It had been a long while since she was nervous about doing something like this. Moving her hands to start loosening his pants after she figured out how to past all the lacing. Both of them slipping each others pants down just enough to expose each other.

Beverly seeing the whole view of his set up that was far different that any other guy. A long scar like crease starting at his mid stomach going down to spread open below his hip line. A long black tendril twitching around dripping a slime off it. Her view not lasting long when he rubbed the tops of her hips. Gently pushing for her to shift positions.

“turn around.” he spoke softly to her.

Doing as she was told she turned around for him. Leaning her upper body onto the wall in nervous waiting. His hands rubbing along her hips to rubbing her inner thighs as he pressed himself against her. Carefully wrapping his arms around her hips and legs to pick her off the ground. Making the height difference more equal for him to slip in. his arms settling around her hips to hold her position up for the both of them. Gently shifting her closer against the wall in that she could lean more comfortably against it while sliding back onto his hips holding her up the rest of the way. Burying his face into the back of her neck to breath in her scent.

Beverlys body tensed at the strange sensation of a squirming organ slipping between her legs. Gliding in smoothly thanks to the slime coating across its length. Twisting inside the entire time he thrusted in picking up a rhythm. So far this wasn't as bad as she thought it was going to be. Expecting him to be really rough in what ever he did. That or mocking her for letting him do this. Some men loved narrating every action they did. Asking repeatedly if she liked this or that being the other annoyance. When no, she found them repulsive and rather they shut up and get everything over with.

Doing it this way wasn't the most comfortable, out in the open night. However everything else was comfortable at best to tolerable at worst. Shutting her eyes to focus on the pleasure he was nicely building in her. His length snugly rubbing along her walls in an even pace. The soft silk fabric kept the friction down while helping to keep her warm from the night air. Him leaning over along her back passing a lot of warmth over as a thick blanket would.

Opening her eyes off a vibration built at the base of her neck down along her back. Confused at first then she realized it was from him purring. The low gentle rumbles passing in waves creating a small smile on Beverlys face. She couldn't help finding it cute to hear such a sound from him. Then catching a sweet scent flowing off him heavier then before.

Sweet vanilla mixed with cinnamon was what her mind came up with. “Was it always there?” thinking to herself after taking a deep inhale of it.

Hands grabbing at the wall off the effects it had on her. Body relaxing more then she wanted that she felt like she was slipping down the wall. Unable to hold herself up the longer she breathed in that intoxicating scent surrounding her. Sensing this he pushed closer to the wall in pinning her up against it. Surrounding her further in the sweet scent along side burying her under his poofy silk outfit. Shifting his hips to start into a firmer pace hitting deeper spots then she'd ever experienced. Promoted to thrust faster when Beverly couldn't hold in her moans any longer. Panting as he did against her neck building warm moisture at the spot.

Her body was moving on its own in wanting him to do more. Managing to arch back into him to feel himself hit deeper. Moving his head from her neck to rest over her shoulder. Hearing more clearly the growling purrs between heated breaths. His hands moving from around her waist to grip her inner thighs in spreading them wider. Leaving Beverly a shivering limp mess from the overwhelming pleasure. It wasn't long when her body tensed in reaching is peak. Squeezing around his thrusting rod that swelled in her.

When he didn't release with her some part of her was disappointed. Turning into anger about how she was denied something. Further pressing back into him she tensed around him again. Hearing him let out a shivering growl that gathered himself to speak. “may I cum inside?” managing to ask.

A deep thought of Beverly answering “of fucking course!” finding his question ridiculous, however realizing that, that was extremely out of character for her. No way she should be so accepting of him cumming in her. She should have him pull out, but … “its extra.” she managed to groan out. Moaning by him pinning her hips hard against the wall to shove himself deep. Reaching as far as he could to explode deep inside. Filling her enough to leak a flow down onto the concrete. More of it spreading down her thighs to drip off her exposed skin.

That first release from him not feeling enough to her. Squeezing her legs together to put pressure on the swollen rod. Dragging out another thick wave from him to spill deep inside. Enjoying the sound of his cum puddling at the floor. Loving even more that so much was still inside her. Realization over these thoughts hitting her like a ton of bricks. Why was she so excited by that?! She should be worried about a possible pregnancy after he came like a fire hose. Shivering at him pulling free that allowed more cum to spill from her.

Those yelling thoughts quieted by him flipping her around to face him. Kissing her back into the wall with his length sliding back between her thighs. Her legs tensed around him to feel him squirm wildly. The member spreading its own slickness across her entrance dripping with the seed it just poured into her. Teasing her to build a wanting warmth for another load to fill her. The kissing alone no longer cutting it for her that had her hands going south. About to grab his shaft to push it in when he stopped her. Both her hands held by one of his between their chests. She whimpered in the kiss he had her in as his grinding was continued undisturbed.

It rubbed her in long strokes gliding back and forth. The slick ooze thoroughly coating her thighs squeezing painfully tight now. She wanted him so badly and he knew it too. Shifting his body to keep her pinned between him and the wall. Her legs unable to touch the ground when he wedged between them. Separating from the kiss he buried his face into her neck. Sharp teeth grazing the sensitive skin there causing her to shiver. The burning heat of her body worsening that she was heavily breathing great breaths to fog in the air.

speaking warmly into her neck.“is my Beverly hot?” his free hand moving up under her shirt. Gliding up across her skin to snap the shirt buttons free from under the fabric. She squirmed in wanting to do something too. He released her hands to wander him as his did to her. Massaging up her chest as she undid his pompom buttons. Gazing over the further view of his toned muscles covered by smooth white skin matching his face. Touching each other up moved him to press inward after such a longing grind. She let out a little surprised whimper that got a chuckle out of him.

His hands moving down to grip into her hips. Each thrust firm to penetrate deep without letting her slip an inch down the wall she was pinned against. Beverlys mind was clouded in a raging fire of wanting him, to even think of what he was doing. How he was coming into her again and again. Something in her liking it, wanting him to keep going, that she should submit to what ever he wanted. He could fill her until the sun rose or take her down to some bedding he would never let her leave. As long as he was there inside of her, nothing else would matter in her mind.

Clawing into his shoulders on one last burst of his thick cum warming her lower stomach. This one was only more noticeable because he pulled out to let everything pour freely to the ground. The warm thickness streaming down her quivering thighs. When he shifted away she grabbed onto him to not let him. Loosening the grip on his arms when her mind finally caught up to what had happened.

He carefully set her back down to hold her up until her legs stopped shaking. Both of them catching their breath where they stood. Adjusting their clothes into place with Beverly having a bit of trouble with the cum clinging so much. Thinking it gross, but nothing she could do about it in the moment. Redressed she heard him speak clearly again.

“how much?” he asked in referring to the thick liquid being able to ooze from her.

“oh, um ...” thinking it over. A part of her saying. “fuck me again like that and it'll be free every time.” shoving that down to calculate a clothes cleaning and plan B meds price. “$100.” she settled on.

He flipped out another hundred to hold out to her. Reaching out her shaking hand to quickly take it. Fixing up her outfit a bit more in preparation to head home.

“see you soon, Bev.” his smooth words raising the hairs on the back of her neck.

“soon?” she asked in looking toward him. Finding him to be gone by the time she looked back. “was that a promise?” she wondered. That part of her in the back of her mind excited for the next visit already.

She returned home just as Tom finished dinner. Having her wait on the porch as he counted the money to be sure she made the quota. Being allowed back in when he saw she passed the mark. Beverly rushed upstairs to shower. Took a few birth control pills as there was no way she was allowing herself to get pregnant from the clown. Washing the huge amount of cum out of her in the shower. Shivering after still being sensitive after the ride he gave. Her hands changing from scrubbing to trying to mimic the feeling of him squirming inside of her.

Thoroughly exhausted after a long hot shower and a quick cold one she dropped into bed.

#it 2017 #pennywise #beverly marsh #pennywise x beverly marsh

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mere-mortifer-writing · 5 years

Text

Dean Winchester/Reader ❧ Sweet Apology

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Dean Winchester/Reader; Dean Winchester/OFC Word count: 4874 | Chapter 1 of 3 Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content Tags: Fluff & Smut, a smidge of Angst; Misunderstandings; Porn with Feelings; Arguing; Reader has a crush on Dean Summary: The plan was to watch a movie in Dean's room, but without Sam to help her feel less awkward, it's no surprise that she ends up saying something stupid - and make Dean think she dislikes him, of all things, when she has a gigantic crush on the guy. They start yelling at each other, soon enough they're kissing, and then - well, Dean's bed gets put to good use. It kind of sucks, though, that as soon as they're done Dean puts his clothes back on leaves her like nothing happened. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am. Well, not really. He's just absolutely clueless. I swear, if these two don't open their mouths and talk...

Beta’d by @mostly-shawn and @aingealcethlenn - Thank you so much for the help <3

Read on Ao3 | Chapter Two coming soon

❧ Chapter One

So, to summarize: she’s eating Fruity Loops, in an underground bunker, at the same table as two certified living legends in the hunting community. The monster hunting community, may she remind you in case you lost the memo.

She is, apparently, very good at identifying and theoretically killing said monsters – although God forbid they ever ask her to join in on the action. She admires Sam and Dean for what they do, but she's fine staying behind the scenes: rummaging through old lore books and giving herself a headache is as far as she'll go. She has proven herself useful in multiple occasions, so no shame there.

Sam confessed to her, on the one memorable occasion when he had drunk enough to be tipsy, that he was more than happy she has to interest in hunting.

"It's my life and I love it", he said, "but it sucks all the ass and you shouldn't do it. Everyone fucking dies. If you got hurt I'd be sad about it for at least six months straight. I'd grow a beard and all." "What would Dean do?", she asked in morbid curiosity. "'Dunno, drink and throw every chair and lamp he sees on the ground, maybe? He does that a lot. Just - never hunt, okay?" "I'll do it for the sake of your poor furniture", she responded, and she never changed her mind.

Sorry, sometimes the crazy hits her all at once, and she needs to do a recap of the situation. Where was she? Oh, right: she was looking at Dean. (What else is new?)

Dean's sprawled on the wooden chair like a bored king, dead guy's robe at least two sizes too big on his broad shoulders. It's one of those rare instances where he slept well the night before, and he looks cozy and relaxed and roughly fifteen years younger than yesterday.

She's trying so hard not to openly stare at him that her cereal got all mushy in the meantime.

"Are you sure Jody can deal with this on her own?", Dean is saying, oblivious to her thoughts. "Seems to me like she's already got her hands full, with the girls and all."

On the other side of the table, Sam sips his coffee and nods. "Yeah, hopefully, it'll be just the one werewolf. I told Jody to call us if she finds out there's more going on."

"Hopefully there's not. Oh!" Dean slaps a celebratory hand on the table and grins. "That means we've got the day off! We could take advantage of that Netflix subscription we pay for." "Garth is paying – we're just leeching off of him. And I actually wanted to go for a run. Wanna come?" "Ugh." "Yeah, I thought so. You two can start without me, though. I'll join you later."

Oh, the mental image that double-meaning evokes! But it’s more of a private joke with herself that anything – she likes Sam, obviously, if only because she's a straight woman with functioning eyes, but she doesn't have a crush. He’s tall and kind, and objectively attractive but he’s not…

Her eyes fall on his brother's long fingers tapping on the table, his strong wrist peeking out of the robe’s sleeve, and she feels her stomach tie in knots.

He’s not Dean, alright?

She didn’t ask not to have eyes but for him, and yet here she is: all moon-eyed over his wrist, of all things.

Someone shoot her; it’d be a mercy killing at this point.

Dean turns to her, all bright-eyed in his good mood. "What do you say, movie marathon? We could stay in my room, get comfy on the bed." Well, now, that makes her legs clench tight together under the table. She knows she’ll have to answer very quickly because in a second she’ll start overthinking and find some excuse not to join Dean. In his bedroom, on his bed. Something she has never fantasized about, no sir. "Yes? Yeah, why not!", she exclaims, just a tad too loud. Oh my God, at least try to play it cool. Sam smirks from behind his cup, and she wonders for a moment if this "morning run" of his isn't just a ploy to leave her alone with his brother. Then Dean winks at her, and all other thoughts fly out of the window. "Awesome. Come on, I'll even let you choose the movie."

❧ ☙

"I'll let you choose, he says," she huffs to herself. Her reflection in the bathroom mirror looks back at her with mild panic in her eyes. "Like that's not agonizing or anything."

God, she just wishes Dean didn't make her so damn nervous. How long has she known the Winchesters for? A year? She's even living with them, she should be past all – she clenches her fists, trying to calm herself – this. And still, Dean makes her heady and rattled just by looking at her for too long. She needs to get a grip.

While she brushes her teeth and washes her face, she settles on Kill Bill – which a) she knows Dean hasn't seen in years and b) should hopefully keep her attention away from his closeness. On his bed. Where she will also be.

God help her.

She walks out of the bathroom up to Dean's room. He's already propping his laptop on a bunch of pillows at the foot of the bed, humming a Metallica song under his breath. His eyes shoot up to her when she arrives. "Hey! Did you choose the movie?", he says. He's still as carefree as she's ever seen him, but there's something in his voice that was missing during breakfast. A note of – weariness? Hope? She can't decipher it. "Don't tell Sammy I said, but I could sit through a chick–flick without bitching too much if you wanna watch one.” And if that isn’t proof he has a martyr complex... "Actually, I was thinking Kill Bill?" He beams up. "Oh hell yeah, haven't seen that one in ages." He finds the movie and hits play, settling down against the bed frame. She notices that he got rid of the robe and is now sitting in only a t–shirt and grey sweatpants. Oh please, no, she thinks, already feeling desperate. Fucking grey sweatpants, tight and revealing in all the right places, inviting her to look down, down...come on, just take a peek-

She gingerly sits down at the opposite end of the bed, eyes straight ahead. Despite the distance, she can smell Dean’s cologne (and what the fuck did he put cologne on for?), fresh and manly and very attractive – so much so that she forgets to focus on the film. She's acutely aware of his presence beside her – of the warmth radiating from him, of how little space and layers there are between their bodies. She also notices him glancing at her from time to time, even though her gaze stays fixed on the computer screen. Is she acting weird? Is that why he's looking at her? She's literally just sitting there, but maybe there's something on her face, or she's breathing too loud…that has never happened before, but who knows–

"I don't bite, you know?" She's almost startled by Dean's voice interrupting her manic line of thought. He's now openly watching her, the small smile on his lips a mix between tentative and reassuring. "You can come closer if you want to. You're almost off the bed." She laughs nervously – damn, way to put her on the spot. But he’s right: she’s all bunched up on the corner of the bed, shaky hands hidden under her legs. "I, uh, didn't want to make you uncomfortable, that's all." What the fuck does that even mean? One of Dean's eyebrows shot up his forehead, and his smile turns disbelieving. "Me? You're the one that looks like she has a gun pointed at her head." Her whole face heats up in embarrassment. He knows she's timid, and anyone who even glances in her direction knows she's head over heels for him – why does he have to put attention on it? "I'm just out of my depth here, you know I'm shy–" "Shy?" he interrupts her. "We've known each other for a year! And we both know you're not like this with Sam."

Also very true, much to her chagrin – Sam has this puppy-dog aura to himself that makes him look smaller and non-threatening, at least when he’s in the company of friends. Dean...Dean doesn’t seem to have an off-switch, he’s always very unapologetically himself. Even when he’s acting like a total dork, he fills the entire room with his presence.

The mortification of being called out like this is making her eyes water, and Dean's unfaltering eye contact is not helping. "It's different with Sam," she tries to explain. What can she say without giving too much of her feelings away? "Why? Have I done something bad to you?" he asks. “You’re always so – so skittish with me, it’s like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Dean has the most expressive eyes she has ever seen, and try as he might his feelings are always starkly clear on his face – like now, settling over the vibrant apple-green like an ugly shadow; disappointment and plain sadness. She really, really doesn't want to hurt him, and trips over her own thoughts in an attempt to say I'm not uncomfortable, I'm just in love and bad with feelings – but how to say it without spelling it out?

"It's nothing you've done,” she tries, “it's just – you."

Oh, God. That came out awfully wrong.

Dean scoffs, breaking the eye contact to look at everything in the room but her. "Yeah, I figured," he snickers, "Could have just said no to watching the movie, then, sweetheart. You shouldn't have to spend time with people you dislike." Dislike? She almost can't believe the irony of the situation. "Dean, I don't dislike you, that's not what I meant." "You just said you have a problem with me as a person! Listen,” – he passes a hand over his mouth, like he does when he needs a second to find the words – “Listen, I don’t know what you heard about me, okay? Sometimes hunters pass through here, and maybe you got wind of some rumours. I’m the first one to admit I can be a douchebag from time to time, but they don’t know me. Hell, half of them I don’t even consider friends! And I thought, you.. well, whatever. You can go back where you came from if living with me is so damn unpleasant! ” Well, ouch. That one hurt. She stands from the bed, raising her voice to hide how close she is to tears. They could have spent a nice day together, watching movies and eating popcorn from the same bowl or something, and then she had to go ahead and ruin everything. And he's being so stubborn, God, but what else is new? "Dean, what – rumours? You think this is about your reputation or something?” “I don’t know! You fucking tell me.” “Why do you wanna argue? You were in such a good mood two minutes ago-" "Yeah, I really was." He jumps off the bed and walks around it until he's face to face with her. "Excuse me if seeing you all – all scared of me kind of killed the mood!" "What? I'm not scared!" "Then why the fuck are you on the verge of tears right now?" "'Cause I'm sorry," she shouts to match his tone. He's standing so close; it's unfair how much it affects her. "I don’t find you scary, okay? I’m sorry I made you think that!" "Yeah, well, I’m sorry, too,” he shouts back. “Then why are we yelling?” “I have no idea!”

They both fall silent. Her mind is trying to process what the fuck just happened, why was she shouting in the first place when Dean is right there, not even five inches away – eyes bright and fiery because of the argument, the hard line of his mouth relaxing as his expression changes. He looks down at her lips. Her breath catches in her throat. She feels paralyzed by how intensely she wants him at that moment, stuck between throwing caution to the wind or fleeing before she makes a fool of herself. But Dean hasn’t moved away, has he? If anything he’s inching closer, and he's looking at her like, like he, too…

Dean leans in and kisses her, a soft sigh leaving his nose when their lips touch. He's so warm, is her first thought. Warm and big and solid against her, so much more substantial than in her fantasies – where he holds her just as tightly, kisses her just as deeply. Her hands tremble slightly as she goes to cup his face. God, it's happening for real. She bites on his full bottom lip with urgency, and he tugs her closer by the hips, pushing his tongue in her mouth. He’s not so much aggressive as he’s ardent, burning fast and bright on her skin like he hasn’t much time left – or like he’s waited too long, and he’s hell-bent on making himself unforgettable.

She isn’t sure she would like the pace, was he anyone else. But oh God, he’s not anyone else, he’s Dean – and she wants, she wants, she wants him and won’t make excuses for liking this. Teeth, bruises, too-sharp nails; warm breaths mixing with hers, his fingers digging in wherever she’s softer and warmer.

She passes a hand on the short hair at the nape of his neck, and she can feel goosebumps rise on his arms at the feeling. Dean gives her one last peck on the lips before hiding his face in the crook of her neck – he releases a shuddering sigh that makes her shiver, and nips at the skin behind her ear. His big hands settle on her legs, squeezing and palming the back of her thighs until she's raised to her tiptoes. "Hold on, baby," he says and picks her up from the ground. Wrapped around his waist, she can feel his erection pressing on her core – and she's never felt emptier and needier than right there with Dean, hard and panting, ready to fuck her against a wall. "Oh God," she moans, and desperately paws at Dean's shirt to get some skin–on–skin contact. He raises his face to watch her and chuckles at her efforts, grinding with more and more insistence against her. "I know, I know," he hums, "I gotcha." He smiles that boyish adorable grin he sometimes does, and she's overwhelmed by both the rush of affection for him and the desire pooling low in her belly.

She's about to say something undoubtedly stupid that would ruin everything – she has the three words already formed on her lips, but they turn into a gasp when Dean twists around and lets her fall on the mattress. The cold sheets underneath her give some clarity back. Not that she keeps it for long, with Dean crawling between her open thighs, hair all fucked up by her hands. He gives her a long caress from her knees up to her waist and smiles again. "Always wanted you in my bed." Is this actually happening?, she thinks, incredulous. "Wh–Yeah?" "Why do you you think I proposed we watch something here?" He winks at her. "Sam wasn't home...I dunno, I felt lucky today." "...and then we ended up yelling at each other a bunch", she adds. Dean huffs a laugh and leans down to kiss her, deep and long enough she forgets what they were even talking about. "Doesn't that just count as foreplay?" "I don't think so, no." Dean beams at her, eyes glinting with something dangerous. "No? How about this, then?", he says, and licks a hot strip on her neck before sucking a mark there. The sharp feeling of his teeth on her sensitive skin makes her back arch closer to his chest. "Or this?" One of his hands sneaks under her shirt, slow and teasing. Dean's fingers splay wide on her stomach on their way up, and she's never hated a piece of clothing more than her bra when it stops the contact. She wants everything off, wants to feel him really touch her. "Oh, fuck," she gasps. "Dean– Dean, take this off." He groans against her collarbone, voice low and rumbly, before leaning back on his knees. "Mmh, yeah. Yes, ma'am. Can you roll over?" The thought of Dean pressed long and wide along her back makes her toes curl, and she gladly turns around.

She realizes Uma Thurman is still swinging her katana on the computer screen, so she takes a second to close the laptop. There's the swishing of fabric behind her, probably Dean shimming out of his sweatpants and shirt while she can't see him. She goes to undress as well, but two warm hands on her hips stop her. "No, wait, I wanna do it," Dean says. “‘Kay?” Oh God, this man is gonna be the death of her. "Yes, please."

Dean scoots closer, his knees on either side of hers, erection pressed on the small of her back. He briefly hugs her to his chest while he leaves a kiss on her hair, squeezing a bit before he lets her go. She swallows back a whimper at the feeling – not because it brings any real pleasure, but because of Dean's unguarded desire behind the gesture. He’s slowed down the pace, maybe for her benefit, maybe for his own. God, she's there, with Dean. Unbelievable. She wants him so much she could cry.

Nuzzling her neck, he helps her take off her shirt, and then – faster, cause he's seductive, yes, but also earnest and enthusiastic – he unclasps her bra, and it falls on the bed. She gets why he asked her to turn around, conscious that her shyness would, at least at first, follow her even in bed: like this, she can't see him watching, and her instinct to hide from him is stifled. Not that she had nothing to worry about: Dean just sighs softly and cups her breasts in his hands, a smile splitting his face at how soft and hot her skin is.

Her leggings go next, tugged down roughly by herself, 'cause suddenly she really, really needs to be naked so he can touch her everywhere. She leans forward on the bed, face pressing on a pillow as she shimmies out of her pants. Dean huffs a laugh behind her. "These are very sexy," he comments, hooking his fingers on the edge of her underwear. Which is ridiculous, cause she has on the most boring pair of black undies ever produced. Goes to show with how little Dean is pleased. Instead of taking the last piece of offending clothing off, he slides two fingers up and down her folds, pushing in a little through the fabric. "So wet already," he says, “and I haven't even touched you yet." His voice has gone low and rumbly and that, coupled with his fingers, makes her that much wetter. “‘Cause I want you,” she mumbles in the pillow, stating the obvious. She rocks backs on his hand, inviting. “You know, I-” “Yeah, baby?” Oh God, he called me baby, she thinks a bit hysterically. She bites back the embarrassment and tries to find somewhere the courage to finish the sentence. “You know, I - I think of you when I touch myself.”

There it is, out in the open. Just how ridiculously attracted to him she is.

His movements stutter; when she angles her head so that she can see his face, she finds him already watching her with such intense, naked longing in his eyes, she has to feel proud. It’s getting to her head, feeling wanted like this. “What?” he asks, finally sliding off her underwear. He’s already naked, and as soon as the panties hit the mattress she pushes back until she’s flush with him – his erection is pressed in the cleft of her ass, getting smeared with her wetness when she starts undulating her hips. “What- fuck,” Dean tries again, distracted by what she’s doing. “Mmh, what do you think about?” God, she’s burning up, and she’s so damn empty without him inside of her. “I don’t know, uh - Your fingers?” Dean circles an arm around her and sneaks his hand down her belly until he can touch her clit, middle and forefinger forming slow circles in time with her hips. “Yes, yes like that, fuck,” she gasps. She decides, there and then, to tell him a secret.

“One time, one time we were at that diner together, Sam and Cas were there as well...And you had that red shirt on, and you must have spent some time on your hair, ‘cause it was – I don’t know, Dean, you were just so beautiful. I was sitting right in front of you. You were flirting with the waitress, and I thought, I thought ‘God, what if I took my shoe off, and slid my foot all the way up his leg and then, when he looks at me, confused, pretend I’m not doing anything?’ And I kept thinking about it, ‘cause you weren’t looking at me anyway. What if I made you hard, there in public, but you had to keep your face straight and not react? And then, what if you grasped my ankle under the table like a warning to stop, but you still pushed back to have more friction, blushing that pretty red when Sam asked you if were okay? And you know what, Dean?” She pauses a second, lost in the fantasy and the feeling of his hands on her. “I would have stopped without a word. I would have left you there, wouldn’t have even acknowledged what I was doing by glancing at you – I would have stood up, with you still hard in your jeans in that cute, family-friendly diner, and I would have said “Sorry, gotta powder my nose” or something just as stupid, to look even more annoyingly innocent – and then I would have gone to the bathroom. And waited for you to follow me, so you could fuck me in one of the stalls, my hand on your mouth to keep you quiet, hoping against hope that no one would come in, or hear us, or interrupt us before you could cum so deep inside me I would have felt you for days-”

Dean moves away from her, one hand to keep her still. “Okay, okay, that’s- that's enough for now." His free hand is at the base of his dick, squeezing a bit as he calms down. He’s breathing fast, lips bitten red and freckles standing out against the flush on his face. He is, quite possibly, the hottest thing she has ever seen. And she did that. “You little- I think I remember that day, fuck. That’s what you were thinking? Jesus.” He briefly rummages in the bedside drawer and comes back to the bed with a condom. “Is like this okay?” he asks, and helps her up from where she was sprawled on the bed. She considers whether or not her legs will hold her up in this position, and figures that after that spiel she deserves to be a bit of a pillow princess – Dean will hold her up if he needs to. With those strong, muscular arms of his. Mmh, God bless his biceps... So she hums “yes,” and hooks her feet around his calves to feel him closer.

She looks back at him as he goes in, and more than the feeling of Dean sliding into her, she'll never forget how his eyes flutter close in a pained frown, like it feels so good it hurts; like he’s somehow surprised by the pleasure. And then he moves, and her eyes just close on their own at the feeling. Everything’s just burning hot – Dean inside her, his hands touching everywhere on her body, his forehead pressed between her shoulders when he leans down. “‘Missed this,” he mumbles on her skin. “I always forget how good it is.”

Which would be, was this a different setting, an unwelcome reminder of how many women have been under him before her. Right now, with him groaning and moaning in her ear? She couldn’t care less.

The pace picks up - and, really, Dean’s a very proportionate man, and, in that position, he goes too deep for comfort. At a particularly hard thrust, she whimpers in pain. “You okay?” he asks, worried fingers moving the hair out of her face. “Yeah, ‘s okay. Just-” “I hurt you,” he interjects, and helps her up. “Get closer to the headboard? Alright, let’s try it like this.” On her knees, with her arms balancing her weight on the wall, the angle changes drastically. Dean slides back into her, this time pressed on her in a long line from shoulders to knees, and hooks his chin on her shoulder. “Better?”

“Way better,” she says, and smiles at his happy sigh.

There’s not much she could tell you about the rest, not without interrupting herself every two seconds by grinning and blushing. It just feels good. It feels amazing. Dean’s experience is evident in his every move, and he doesn’t let her forget for a second exactly who’s she with – in that too-hot bedroom with weapons decorating the wall, giving a memory foam mattress a run for its money. She says his name probably too many times, and some ridiculous praise comes out of her mouth once in a while, but Dean doesn’t seem to mind; he bites her neck too hard, at one point, and it hurts but she loves it, the proof that he has lost himself completely in her body. And Dean builds her up and up, with his voice and his fingers and his cock, until she shudders and cums around him.

She briefly loses sense of time, feeling only Dean thrusting into her faster and deeper and with a faltering rhythm – when she comes back to herself, he’s slipping out of her with a groaned “Jesus Christ.”

She lies down on her back, panting as she watches him throw away the condom in a small bin beside the bed. All those good chemicals that come with an orgasm are making her feel more naked than a simple lack of clothes – Dean turns back to her, and she has the impression that he can see right through her skin and bones; that all the feelings that surely will scare him off are sprawled out on the bed like heavy, uncomfortable blanket.

She feels both amazing and scrubbed raw at the same time. She really needs Dean to take her in his arm before she starts crying, which is becoming more and more probable by the second.

Instead, his attention falls on his phone, bleeping away on the bedside table. “Twelve messages?”, he says when he picks it up. They’re from Sam, which becomes obvious when he reads them instead of chucking the phone at the end of the bed; she watches him frown as he scrolls down. “Ugh, fuck. It’s Sam; Jody apparently needs back up after all. Five werewolves? Well, shit.”

She doesn’t say anything and busies herself by sliding under the blanket.

She doesn’t like to think of Jody in danger, but she likes even less where this is going. Dean is putting his boxers back on, and clean clothes from his drawer. Oh, wow, look at all that flannel. Does he have an endless supply or something? “I gotta go,” he explains. No shit, Sherlock. “Hey, it was awesome,” he tells her as he puts a belt on, nonchalant as if he was talking about a very good burger. “Just- awesome. Shit, I’m so late already, Sam’s gonna bitch all the way to Sioux Falls. See you in a few days?” She nods, a bit jaded by the sudden change in scenario – from one with Dean naked in bed with her to one where he’s leaving as if nothing happened – and he smiles and winks at her.

And then he’s gone.

Maybe she spends the next hour on the verge of tears, hugging his pillow and watching the rest of Kill Bill as a distraction, but that’s not really any of your business. She gets up, eventually, and puts her clothes back on even if the bunker is empty. She does what feels like a walk of shame back to her room and straight to her shower. She washes off, with her favourite lavender-scented soap, all the signs of the past few hours off of her skin. Like it was a random guy. Like it was just a one-off.

Thank you very much, ma’am, it has been fun while it lasted.

“I gotta go.”

Well, alright. Goodbye stranger, then.

❧ ☙

I hope you guys enjoyed it! I cherish every comment and reblog, feedback really motivates me to keep writing <3 I especially appreciate comments on characterization, I tried to keep Dean as IC as possible :) Let me know what you think!

Tags from @spnfanficpond‘s Tag List under the cut - apologies if I tagged someone who’s not interested in Dean/Reader’s by mistake!

If someone wants to be tagged in the next chapter, let me know <3

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